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The texts arrive two in succession as he’s scrolling Instagram: wanna help me with jk? followed by come to the bedroom. Hoseok unfolds from the couch and tucks his phone in the pocket of his sweats without a word to Namjoon, lounging across the room with a book in hand. The rare chance for relaxation and uninterrupted time gets spent one of a handful of ways in their household, but his favorite has to be this—early afternoon, no staff, dorm for the most part deserted. It won’t matter if there’s noise and no one will interrupt for a missed appointment. Namjoon glances at him, one brow lifted with the tiniest hint of acknowledging judgment, and he grins as he strolls off to their bedroom. Trained response starts an eager tingle at the base of his spine.
Jeongguk and Jimin have been missing for the better part of an hour; Hoseok is sure they haven’t spent it napping. He doesn’t knock on the closed door. Music hums faint and low on the other side. The handle turns under his fingers and he pauses to tease himself, anticipation humming in his stomach, before pushing it open. Afternoon light filtered through thick crème curtains turns the feast of bare, flushed skin in front of him gold. The scene is impossible to process for the first seconds while he drinks in his fill: Jimin seated in the desk chair, barefoot but otherwise fully clothed, his chin hooked over Jeongguk’s shoulder—Jeongguk, who is nude and shivering-limp and spread over his lap facing the door. Jimin’s lube-glistening cock rests unmoving inside him. Jeongguk’s chest heaves with uneven gasps beneath the one arm Jimin has wrapped tight around his midsection, support and restraint at the same time. His dick rests on his own thigh, plumply tempting, paused at the overwhelmed space between soft and erect. One of his legs splays over the arm of the chair to keep him wide open, the other hooked behind Jimin’s calf.
Because Jimin is ignoring the man sitting on his lap filled up with his cock in favor of reading a comic, which he elegantly dangles from his free hand where it’s propped on the chair arm. He’s almost finished. His thumb flips a page while he and Hoseok stare each other down with the shared tense pleasure of control. Jeongguk twitches at the sound but doesn’t speak, doesn’t lift his head. Spit tracks in a drying line across his jaw to darken Jimin’s sleeve. An hour, Hoseok thinks. He must be far-gone.
“How’s our toy doing, Jiminie?” he says.
“Very good,” he replies. Jeongguk tilts his head, bleary, one hand clenching in Jimin’s shirt. Jimin pushes his hips up with the pretense of stretching his legs but mostly jams himself deeper. Jeongguk’s expression shifts from mindless to desperate in an instant, as if the sensation of Jimin moving within him is a shock, as if he’s gotten so used to being full that it’s all he knows. “Perfect pretty cocksleeve, keeping me occupied while I read.”
Jeongguk breaks his eye contact with Hoseok as his mouth drops open around a choked groan, head lolling onto Jimin’s shoulder once more. Hoseok locks the door, settling into himself and the moment, the headspace he needs to catch up to these two. Jeongguk still hasn’t said a word but he’s close to subvocalizing: tiny aching noises that don’t make it out of his throat but saturate the quiet air. Jimin digs a thumb comfortingly between his ribs and flips another page. Hoseok approaches and skates his palm across Jeongguk’s throat, fitting his thumb on one side and fingers on the other at his collarbones. He closes his grip. Jeongguk moans. His gaze is a blood-burning mix of vacant but too-present; Hoseok wants to wreck him, fuck that last bit of resistance loose again. Jimin has him so far under, already, and that provokes equal measures jealousy and need. He’s allowed to do this.
“How long has he been sitting on your dick?” he asks. His fingers massage—gentle, threatening. Jeongguk’s pulse thuds quick and strong under his touch.
“Maybe a half hour,” Jimin responds. Hoseok hums and leans past Jeongguk to plant a firm kiss on his plush, inviting mouth—thank you, you’re the best. Jimin grins into it, character broken for a moment, and Hoseok smiles in turn. “Maybe more. I didn’t prep him much but he’s nice and easy, now.”
Hoseok keeps his hold on their boy’s throat as he reaches down to push a thumb against his perineum, putting pressure on the stretched rim of his hole. That earns him a reluctant whine, a flinch of thighs. He rubs firm one direction then the other, draws little circles, patient as Jeongguk comes around into his own skin again. As he settles into semi-alertness from the fog of submission, ass clenching and thighs flexing, sounds that are closer to words jumble up in his moth: Hobi, Jimin, too much, fuck. Jimin plants his heels for a few short bouncing thrusts that spread fresh slick along the length of him. Hoseok tugs once on his balls and Jimin lets out a filthy groan, jerks his hips hard.
“Ah,” Jeongguk bursts out. His voice is a croaking broken thing as he manages, “Please—“
“There we go, that’s it,” Hoseok murmurs. “It’s more fun this way, baby.”
He strokes the length of Jeongguk’s once-again stiff cock, presses it up against his stomach with the blade of his palm before flicking the head for good measure. The snap of sensation makes Jeongguk’s abs contract in sharp relief. Sweat glistens in the divots, in his belly-button, the stubble at the base of his shaft. Hoseok bends and runs the wet, soft flat of his tongue up the length. The taste fills his mouth with bitter salt. Jeongguk grinds onto Jimin, hole swallowing him to the base.
Jimin pouts and says, “I’m not done reading. Stop it.”
“I can’t,” Jeongguk groans, wriggling. Hoseok stands at full height to loom over them both and grips his neck tight. One hard slap to his inner thigh makes Jeongguk gasp, throat straining in his palm, then he goes limp. It’s instantaneous. Hoseok adores doing this: forcing him to resurface just to shove him under again, just to watch him lose his composure. Control.
“Hobi-hyung will give you something to do,” Jimin says. “Let me finish.”
In one smooth choreographed motion, Jimin bends him forward while Hoesok tugs him down. His flexibility lets him fold in half, raised leg dropping so he’s still seated on Jimin’s lap but the flat plane of his back stretches out between them. Jimin plants an elbow rudely in the thick muscle at the dip of his spine while Hoseok pushes sweatpants to midthigh. The maneuvering that follows is rough and simple: thumb forcing his mouth open, other hand guiding a dick in, grabbing the hair at the base of his neck and making a fist to hold him on it. Jimin has a half-manic, terribly fucking erotic smile on his face as he grinds his elbow in and flips another page.
“He makes a good table, too,” he says.
“Fuck,” Hoseok groans. “He’s being so good.”
Jeongguk gags. Saliva spills hot and ticklish from his mouth onto Hoseok’s balls. He works the shallowest thrusts, head of his dick in and out of the constricting heat of his throat, letting him breathe in bursts and choke between them. There are tears on his face, caught like diamonds in his eyelashes. Hoseok croons, stroking his cheek, devouring the suffering eager look in his damp-glazed eyes as he fucks his throat.
“The best,” he murmurs. “Letting us use your ass and your mouth, stuff you nice and full.”
Jimin closes the comic with a dull snap and tosses it onto the desk. Affectionate to them both, his fingers tangle with Hoseok’s in Jeongguk’s hair. He tugs and Hoseok releases his hold. Jimin draws Jeongguk off of his dick in a dragging slide of suction and pressing tongue that sparks in his guts. Once his mouth is clear Jeongguk begs, “Come, please, need to—“
Hoseok crams three fingers into his open mouth. The slick muscle of his tongue convulses under them with another flood of drool and a shocked reflexive swallow of the words left unsaid. Jimin gets both arms around his waist and stands, forcing him into the support of Hoseok’s waiting arms. Jeongguk’s voice cracks to one high jolting note mid-whine. The bed is two steps past them. Between their shared bruising grip Jeongguk flops like a tall, muscular rag doll, feet sliding for purchase as Jimin manhandles him. Hoseok sidesteps in time for Jimin to drop him onto the edge of the mattress, bent over, dick sliding free with a wet sound. Jeongguk’s hole clenches around nothing. His toes dig into the rug, knees bent. The entire crack of his ass glistens with lube.
“No, I don’t think you need to come,” Jimin says. He pats his ass once, twice. “In fact, I’m not sure why you’re begging. I thought we agreed I’d just use you however I wanted, make you my good little fuckdoll?”
“Oh, did you?” Hoseok asks.
He strips his shirt and pants off as Jimin does the same, Jeongguk looking over his shoulder at them both. He’s alert again but still dazed, still pliant. And as much as he’s begging, he hasn’t reached for himself. He knows better; he wants to be good. Hoseok’s gut clenches and his heart soars.
“He did agree,” Jimin says. “Unless he wants to safeword?”
“No,” Jeongguk mutters. He turns his red tear-streaked face and buries it in the covers, making fists in the sheets. The tension in his shoulders inches loose. He needs this as much as either of them.
“Good boy,” Hoseok says.
The fact that he isn’t looking makes it more of a shock—enough to startle an actual, hoarse scream out of him—when Hoseok steps up and shoves his face into the mattress at the same moment he forces his dick into the easy, hot grip of his hole. The last inch or two he slams forward, hipbones smacking into the meat of his ass loud and stinging. Jeongguk sobs out another helpless wail and kicks. Jimin slaps his thigh. His groan is more of a shout when Hoseok rolls his hips in a harsh, measured glide that pulls him out to the tip then sinks his whole length inside at once again. Jeongguk is sopping, dripping wet and loose from Jimin, but that first penetration must have burned, must have tugged and stretched. Hoseok likes knowing he can hurt him without hurting him. And no one but Jimin likes to go as mean as Hoseok, his eager panting and the slick sound of him jerking off providing accompaniment to their fucking. No one else but Jeongguk likes to take it this hard, either.
Jimin reaches between them and pushes a finger in alongside Hoseok’s cock. Jeongguk yanks at the sheets with a jaw-clenched shout. The first knuckle pushes against Hoseok’s slit as he works his hips in shallow thrusts, leaving room for Jimin to play as he so obviously desires.
“Slut,” Jimin praises as he works the finger side to side. The stretch is visible, slick taut skin squeezing in reflex. “Keep crying for it, come on. Scream.”
The second finger does it, paired with Hoseok clawing across the gorgeous sweaty expanse of his back. Jeongguk writhes, howls, tries to close his legs but Hoseok forces him tighter against the edge of the mattress so his feet slid out from under him. Jimin fucks his fingers in and out for a moment before sliding them open to either side of Hoseok’s dick in a v-shape. He grasps the divots of Jeongguk’s arched spine and begins fucking him with purpose once more, each slap of skin-to-skin sounding that much sloppier, that much wetter with the extra spread Jimin’s holding him at. The continual helpless gasping moans spilling out of Jeongguk at the slightest movement light a fire under Hoseok’s skin.
“How much more prep until he can fit both of us at the same time?”
Jeongguk clenches hard, crushing Jimin’s knuckles into his dick uncomfortably. Jimin makes a startled sound and both pause. Jeongguk grunts and shivers beneath them. His mouth is open against the sheets, eyes closed, fists lax as he gives over to them in full, with all of his will, all of him.
“Did you just come, baby?” Hoseok asks.
“No,” Jeongguk pants. “Close, so close, please. Please.”
Jimin eases his fingers out and crawls onto the mattress. Hoseok scratches from his curved hip across his thigh, his leg in passing. The dense muscle doesn’t give but his nails leave white streaks that fill in pink. Jimin flashes him a flirtatious smile then grips the underside of Jeongguk’s jaw with one hand, hair with the other. The forced eye contact is searing to watch. “Hobi’s going to use your hole until he comes, and you’re going to eat me until he’s done. Then I’m going to use it too. Don’t disappoint me.”
Jeongguk moans an agreement. Hoseok is treated to the sight of Jimin bending himself over, holding the thick, fat swell of his ass in both hands so their boy can fit his whole face between his cheeks. His melodic voice is so sweet when he groans: voluptuous, tender, pleased. Hoseok waits for Jeongguk to get good purchase, get his tongue working, while he slicks up the fingers on his left hand. Jimin made it sound like they’d finish up quick, but—but.
Hoseok pulls out and Jeongguk makes a startled, questioning sound. He fits three fingers to his hole and pushes, tips angled toward his prostate, loving the way he opens: hot and silken-soft inside, muscles relaxed as far in as his fingers reach. A good, solid hour of cockwarming and fucking has him as loose as possible. For a heady gloating moment, Hoseok embraces the knowledge that he’s allowed to do as much as he wants, allowed to spit on the puffy stretched rim of Jeongguk’s hole and push his pinky in, allowed to make him shake. The knuckles of his hand push on the edge of his hole: impossible but possible. He twists his wrist careful, shallow until Jeongguk takes that too in a burst of movement that sinks him a full inch deeper.
Jeongguk screams, muffled and garbled. His hips jerk as he flexes; Hoseok has to push to keep his clenching hole from forcing his hand out again. The suffocating squeeze around his palm eases after a moment of Jimin rocking his ass to and fro on Jeongguk’s tongue as a distraction. Hoseok strokes at the clinging heat surrounding his fingers with simple but thorough care, thumb pressed to the side of one cheek, massaging him from the inside with all the force he has in his fingers, palm, wrist. Long rubbing strokes, hard and harder pushes on the over-fucked, over-used, over-sensitive swell of his prostate. The gratification that warms him from throat to belly when Jeongguk comes all over himself a handful of seconds later, sobbing with the intensity, is one of the best feelings in his life.
“He’s not even licking, he’s just crying,” Jimin murmurs. “What are you doing?”
“Almost got the whole fist in him,” he says as he slides his hand out and replaces it with his dick.
Jimin groans and turns to push Jeongguk flat—to watch. Massaging his shoulders and half-smothering him in the sheets, he tortures and comfort Jeongguk with the same brand of affection while he watches Hoseok rail him. Jeongguk whines and whines from the base of his throat; he’s unbearably burning-slick and soft and used up. Hoseok grits his teeth, pounds him fast, hard, barely pulling out. His hand is sore enough to cramp where he grips his waist. That ache triggers the burst of orgasm while he’s buried to the base. He comes in four hard pulses that leave his ears ringing. Jimin waits with one hand on his hip and one on Jeongguk’s spine while he catches his breath.
Heart racing, echoes of pleasure aching in his spent muscles and liquid joints, he braces his thumb on his cock and withdraws. The pair of them appreciate the split second Jeongguk’s left gaping and empty, no attempt to clench, letting them see their handiwork. Hoseok shifts behind Jimin and strokes lube onto his sticky cock, leans against his taut back, guides him into that inviting, perfect hole. Jeongguk cries out weak but ever-eager, “Hyung—“
Hoseok bites at Jimin’s shoulder and throat, scratches his flexing stomach, come-slick cock nestled softening in the small of his back. The moment shifts to tender. Jimin strokes the welts on Jeongguk’s back and rubs his thighs. His thrusts are measured and steady, dragging low constant moans out of Jeongguk. When Jimin comes, he comes with a sigh, shaking in Hoseok’s arms. His hair has the aroma of floral shampoo and masculine sweat. He smells of home; the room stinks like their bodies and their fucking, also part of home. Jeongguk slaps at Jimin’s stationary hip with a frantic hiss.
He flops onto his side immediately after Jimin pulls out, limbs askew, sheets pinched between his teeth. One hand grasps his own half-hard and persistently dripping dick, quick jerks across the head and first inches with his eyes squeezed shut. Jimin whispers praise—good boy, our perfect comeslut, one more time—while he works two fingers into his sore stretched hole. He leaves them still as a makeshift plug while Jeongguk climaxes in meager spurts on his hand and thigh. Hoeseok hums and collapses to one side, drawing Jeongguk’s palm up to lick the slimy salt-bitter fluid off while Jimin cuddles up on the other. He tosses a leg across them both. Sweat slides and catches on stubbled leg-hair.
In the hall there are footsteps, then Namjoon wryly asking through the door, “Shall I start a bath?”
“Yeah. Thanks hyung,” Jeongguk croaks with his face mashed into the crook of Hoseok’s arm and his fingers absently kneading Jimin’s calf. He sounds drunk. Jimin grins and bites the round muscle of his shoulder. Hoseok ruffles his hair. Perfect afternoon.