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Everything has to be perfect.

From the ambient temperature to the placement of the easels circling the center of the room, from the natural lighting that shines through the ceiling-high windows to the height of the stage.

Every single detail has to be perfect.

Jungkook stands at the entrance, perfectionist gaze scouring the room for anything that can be misplaced, for a single detail that can be out of line. He can’t afford a mistake; it’s his first day and he desperately needs to make a good impression, to prove that he’s fit to teach this class. It’s hard enough to get a job when fresh out of school, and the fact that he was hired is almost a miracle in itself. Employment in the world of arts is difficult to find, and he blindly applied for the job, thick portfolio in hand and heart on his sleeve, not even expecting a response.

For some unknown reason, most likely a mistake, he likes to believe, Jungkook was hired. Maybe it’s his extensive experience in tutoring, or maybe it’s because the school was desperate to find a replacement teacher. Either way, Jungkook won’t fret on it for too long, taking this incredible, hard-to-believe opportunity to make a name for himself in the workforce.

Jungkook anxiously eyes the clock, biting down on his nails as he makes his way to his desk, looking through his class binder again.

The models should be arriving in ten minutes.

The two men are regulars. The previous teacher must be fond of them considering they participated in a good majority of his teachings. They seem to be a pair, never working without the other. That’s interesting enough, will make for one hell of a session.

Park Jimin and Min Yoongi.

He can’t help but wonder what they look like, just how good they must be for the past instructor to hire them so regularly.

Jungkook is eager to meet them, that’s for sure. As much as his anxiety’s beating him down to a pulp, there’s also excitement fluttering in his belly, fingertips electrified, ready to get to it. He was never a proper teacher before, but his years as a tutor always felt so fulfilling. Jungkook enjoys helping others and watching them blossom under his care; always knew he was meant to be a teacher, and that’s why this job is so important to him.

He takes his phone out of his pocket to check himself out, wipes the stress-induced sweat off his eyebrow and places his parted hair as best as he can. Jungkook isn’t really one to groom himself, usually just rolls out of bed and lives with whatever mess of a hairdo he wakes up with.

His roommate and good friend Seokjin made sure that he’d be as presentable as he possibly could for his big day, though. Almost screamed at him when Jungkook said he’d wear his nicest pair of track pants. The man’s a fashionista, or whatever the term is, Jungkook isn’t really sure. Seokjin’s also got a hard head, but he won’t tell him that.

Jungkook’s outfit is in its usual palette, an all-black, very basic fit. Long-sleeved shirt tucked in the nicest slacks he owns, the ones he wore to graduation, or maybe it was some school dance, he can’t remember. He’s more of a sportswear type of guy, oversized hoodies, sweatpants, and whatever else his limbs can literally drown in, but this job means he’ll have to invest in clothes that don’t seem to belong to someone twice his size.

Jungkook enjoys being comfortable, that’s it. Skin-tight shirts and narrow pants aren’t his thing, the complete opposite of comfy, all cramped up, leaving him no space to move. He doesn’t dare take a deep breath with this shirt on, scared that it’ll rip at the chest or around his arms.

He feels constricted, wants nothing more but to change out of this crap, but he sucks it up for the sake of good looks. No student will take a sweatpants-wearing teacher seriously, Seokjin assured him of that. He also told him is ass looks spectacular in these pants, which definitely helped Jungkook step past the threshold of their apartment a bit more confidently.

Do it for the ass. Not the first time Jungkook tells himself that.

He double-checks the temperature, again, makes sure that the room the models will change in is clean and has the two robes he carefully picked for them, even some water bottles and tasty snacks if need be.

Another stroll around the open space to be absolutely certain that everything is placed according to his detailed plan, another glance towards the wall clock that’s taunting him from where it’s perched up.

Two minutes left.

Will they arrive on time? Are they tardy? But most importantly… will they take him seriously?

Jungkook just freezes in the middle of the room, again, unsure what he should check. Time ticks by too quickly, and it’s a little overwhelming for someone as anxious as himself. He knows very well that he’s done everything right, that it’s pointless to check and check as he did countless times already.

But he just has to. An incessant itch at the back of his mind.

A loud knock at the door snaps him out of his restless thoughts. Jungkook takes a deep breath, slowly turning around and making his way towards the set of double doors, trembling hand curling around the knob. It’s cold against his heated palm.

When Jungkook opens the door and blinks at the duo that stands there, he’s hit with a wave of warmth. It spreads to his flushed cheeks and down his weakened legs, doesn’t really help the fact that he’s already sweaty.

He’s also pretty sure his heart stopped for a second or two. Maybe three, his head feels light.

The smile that was wide on his lips just seconds ago shrinks down to a slight part as he openly stares at the pair. The two men are very attractive, to say the least, and Jungkook’s poor little gay heart’s doing somersaults in his chest.

With a quick, observant scan—one of his many talents—he notices they’re both similar and yet different, the same height and hair color but with distinct features. One has a thicker built, beautiful plump lips and an intriguing gaze as the other’s a little on the thinner side but still broad, has a cute button nose and catlike eyes full of mischief.

“Hi,” Jungkook mumbles out after clearing his throat. “Welcome,” he says a little louder, moving out of the doorway and motioning for them to step in. Jungkook scans them up and down again, just taking as many details as he can in as he does with everything, frowning a little when he notes that the beanie-wearing one’s clutching onto the other’s pinky finger. Just the pinky.

Are they… a thing? A couple? Jungkook's inquisitive mind never sleeps. Doesn’t matter, snap out of it, he tells himself. “I’m Jungkook, the new teacher. It’s nice to meet you!” He wears the brightest smile he can muster amidst his lingering gay panic.

“Hey,” the one with enticing lips says, a faint smirk that in no way helps the stammer in Jungkook’s chest. Voice light but also raspy, Jungkook wants to hear more of it. “I’m Jimin. Likewise.” He extends his free hand forward and Jungkook shakes it, hoping he doesn’t feel how clammy they are. There’s a press of cool metal inside his palm.

“And I’m Yoongi, nice to meet you too,” the other one adds, also reaching out to shake his hand, but staying at a distance. His cheeks are a little rosy, Jungkook notices. This one has larger hands, longer fingers than the other, but still pretty delicate. Jimin’s hands were rough, a strong grip that definitely surprised Jungkook at first, but this guy’s a bit on the gentler side. He seems a bit shy.

Jimin looks like he stepped out of Jungkook’s wardrobe, monochrome from head to toe except for the fact he actually has style, sporting a leather jacket and tight jeans hugging his strong legs. There’s heavy silver jewelry decorating his ears and fingers, a little excessive for Jungkook’s taste, but it fits him well. Glimmers pretty against his tan skin. Jungkook certainly likes the black cap, thinks he should get one for himself.

Yoongi wears something a little more along the lines of comfortable, a black beanie paired with an oversized black and white striped sweater, skinny jeans but his are ripped at the knee. He’s cute, floats a little in the shirt that’s easily twice his size, sleeves stopping just before the tips of his fingers.

They give off very different vibes but are both really hot in their own way, and Jungkook has to remind himself time didn’t stop and he’s just been staring at these guys for longer than socially acceptable. He clears his throat, licks his dry lips. “Well, class starts in ten minutes, so you can go to the room over there to—”

“Yeah, we know, no worries,” Jimin interrupts, winking at him. His chunky leather boots are already taking him there, the hit of their sole on the hardwood floor echoing loudly in Jungkook’s head. “Not our first time here. We’ll change and then we can chat, yeah?”

Both Jungkook’s anxiousness and embarrassment translate through his faint laughter. ”Yeah, sure, absolutely—go ahead.”

“Be right back,” Yoongi mumbles before turning around, hooking his arm under Jimin’s.

Jungkook stares at the door, and it’s only when it closes behind them that his shoulders relax. He didn’t notice he was squaring them, body straight like a plank. Every single muscle tense and clenched.

If he’s to be honest, he doesn’t really know what to think. Which is rare for him. His brain usually always has something to think about.

He decides it’s best to distract himself instead of trying to make sense of the static in his head, flipping through his binder for the hundredth time to get the gears going again. He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt, wiping the sweat off his brow. Is it too hot in the room, or is it just him? He checks the thermostat, again, wonders if he set it too high by accident, but it’s fixed at the recommended temperature.

But it’s so warm in here.

The door of the changing room abruptly blasts open behind him, and Jungkook jumps up and gasps, hand clutching his chest.

“Sorry about that.” Jimin scratches the back of his head, an apologetic look on his face. But Jungkook’s not really looking at his face, wide eyes glued to something else entirely.

That something else being a pair of fluffy ears twitching on top of Jimin’s head.

Jungkook stares at them, eyes round and blinking quickly, trying to figure out if they are real or if it’s just his obsessed mind playing tricks on him. The longer he glares, the more he’s positive that they are, in fact, real, all long and soft fur perking out of his slightly disheveled hair that looks just as silky.

Shit.

His panicked gaze flicks to Yoongi, to confirm the crazed theory taking over his mind. He almost drops dead then and there when he realizes he’s right. Yoongi also has some triangular ears poking through straight strands of hair. They’re a little smoother than Jimin’s, smaller but still very there.

Not only is the pair attractive beyond fucking comprehension, but they’re also hybrids.

Jungkook has a little thing for hybrids.

He tries not to look too shocked, swallowing it all down with difficulty. Small drops of sweat trickle between his shoulder blades and down his back, he’s burning up. Jungkook wipes his hands on his pants mechanically for the billionth time that afternoon.

He doesn’t want to look startled by the fact that they’re hybrids, doesn’t want them to think he has something against them, because he really doesn’t. Quite the opposite. It’s just rare that he ever crosses one, they’re pretty rare in the suburbs, usually all clustered up in the big cities where they’re most accepted and included. But then again, this place isn’t far from the city, maybe a fifteen-minute drive away.

Jungkook never really thought he’d meet a hybrid, let alone work with one, so to be faced with two when most of his encounters with them were kept within his little fantasy world is incredibly overwhelming to say the least.

He really hates that he has this fixation, but he can’t help it. They’re just so… so… irresistible. There’s this thing about them, Jungkook can’t really explain it, but it makes him so fucking weak.

“Are you, uhm,” Jungkook clears his throat, anxiously brushing his bangs back and ruining the hairdo Seokjin worked at least twenty minutes on, “alright? The robes comfortable? Is it hot enough? I set up a heater on the stage if ever—”

“Hey, relax,” Yoongi laughs, a pretty little sound that tickles the small of Jungkook’s back with shivers, “everything’s perfect. You’re more prepared than the last teach’, that’s for sure.” The more he talks, the more his cheeks flush. He hides a little behind Jimin, sticks close to him.

“Oh? I mean—Really?”

“Yeah,” Jimin adds, bare feet sliding towards Jungkook desk, “he’s a great guy, a crazy artsy mind, but super lazy. Can see you’re not, though.” Jimin flips through his meticulously-organized class binder, a little curl in his plump lips, and Jungkook’s heart lurches in his chest.

“Ah, uh, if you could, like, not touch that—“

“The snacks are a nice touch,” Yoongi interrupts before nibbling his bottom lip, the slight curve turning a deeper shade of pink. It plops out of the hold when he smiles again, full of sweetness, looking up at him through fluttering lashes. “Thanks, sweetie.”

Jungkook almost chokes at the pet name. Now it’s definitely too warm in the room.

“Are you sure the temperature’s alright?” He asks, voice small as he flaps the front of his damp shirt. He’s glad the only clothes he owns are black, makes it less obvious he sweats like a pig when he’s crazy nervous.

Pretty guys make him crazy nervous. And also planning things, but right now, it’s most definitely the pretty guys. He’s not even mad they’re messing up his organized desk, that says a lot. Anyone else, he’d be barking at.

The students should be arriving anytime soon, Jungkook notices as his gaze flicks over to the clock, and a wave of nerves are crashing onto his fragile confidence once more.

“Perfect, really,” Yoongi assures him, following behind Jimin, fingers brushing against the small of his back. The touch is delicate, just a graze. He seems to always have a hand on Jimin. Jungkook can’t help but wonder why. “Nice and warm.”

“Are you feeling a little hot, Mr. Jeon?” Jimin turns to face him, a hint of tease bleeding through his narrowed eyes.

Mr. Jeon. For fuck’s sake.

How many times did he think of a stupid porn scenario that started with those exact words? And they’re coming from Jimin, a fucking mind-blowingly attractive hybrid, out of all people. He hates himself for being such a pervert. If his mind’s not over-thinking something, it’s most definitely in the gutter.

“Uh, no— I mean, yeah, maybe wearing long sleeves wasn’t the best idea,” Jungkook mutters, laughing nervously. “I’ll be fine though, as soon as class starts, the nerves’ll calm down.”

“Aw, he’s nervous,” Yoongi says, almost to himself, distractedly playing with his robe’s wrap like a… like a cat. “Cute.”

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. Before he can say anything, as if he even had something to say, Jimin speaks up. “So I’m guessing you’ll follow the previous teacher’s class plan? Worked well.”

“Yeah, um, yeah.” If he was to be honest, he tweaked it a bit, actually, a lot, but if the models are comfortable with said plan, then he won’t be the one to go against it. He just wants everything to go smoothly, for the models and students to be content. If they say that it works well, then he’ll trust his word. Changes can come later, he’s got a full half of a semester. “Same exact thing.”

“Good. Makes it easy for us,” Jimin replies with a warm smile that reaches his crescent eyes. “We know the drill, teach’. Don’t be nervous, you’ll be fine.” He smiles to himself at that, and Jungkook just stares at the curve. “Do your job, and we’ll do ours. Simple as that.”

They’re sitting on his desk now, and Jimin’s looking up at the decorated ceiling, thick neck stretched out. His robe’s collar slid down his shoulder a little, exposing his collarbone and the top of what seems to be a toned chest. Yoongi’s still playing around with the wrap, eyebrows furrowed deep as the silken fabric slips between his pretty fingers.

Jungkook ashamedly lets his gaze travel down, tries to be subtle about it, meeting with the skin of Yoongi’s thigh. The robe’s barely tied, pretty loose around his smaller waist with the constant pull of his fingers. It’s just enough to hide his stomach and crotch. The slit meets the top of his milky thigh, and Jungkook catches a glimpse of Yoongi’s tail, the tip of it curling around said thigh. He has to tear his gaze away, heart beating way too fast.

A tail. A fucking tail. It’s not that he didn’t know hybrids have those, but never did he see one with his own two eyes, always just in pictures or videos. Moving on its own, a captivating extension of their body. Jungkook’s hands itch to grab it, fingers digging in his own crossed arms to soothe the need jolting through them.

He tries to spot Jimin’s, to no avail; the man’s robe is securely tied around his hips, thighs pressed together tightly. They look strong. Jungkook swallows hard, slipping his sweaty hands inside the pockets of his slacks.

He’s not imagining them crushing his head. Nope. “Yeah… simple as that.”

Jungkook mentally curses, really wants to slap the nasty out of himself. He was the one to apply for this job, this gesture class which he knew used nude models, and yet he’s fucking flustered over just seeing bits and pieces of exposed skin. In a couple of minutes, he’ll have to intently observe their bodies completely naked, and not only that but also sketch them out, look over his student’s drawings of them. Copies upon copies of those same naked bodies over and over again.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, stops just when the fabric of his shirt feels close to ripping, and the classroom’s door opens behind him.

Yoongi gives him a thumbs up, and Jimin just stares.

He kind of wants to throw up.

Jungkook places himself next to the pair, standing the straightest he’s ever stood in his life as the students nonchalantly walk in, some chatting, some yawning or sipping on some cardboard cups. He smiles a little, nodding at the ones who acknowledge his presence, greeting the few who address him.

They look a little confused, the majority doing a double-take when their eyes meet his. Jungkook guesses they weren’t notified they’d have a new teacher from now on, or maybe they weren’t expecting someone as young as him, and it surely doesn’t diminish his stress.

When they’re all sitting, shoving their phones in their pockets or bags, headphones off their ears and hanging around their necks, takeout coffees at the base of their easels, Jungkook moves to the center of the room, sporting a smile he practiced at least a thousand times in his bathroom mirror the night before. His memorized speech is playing over and over in his head, and it takes him a couple of seconds before he can even bring himself to breathe in.

“Hello, everyone! My name is Jeon Jungkook, and I will be your teacher for this class during the rest of the semester.”

He continues the little introduction he prepared last minute, trying his best not to look too nervous and easily approachable. The students don’t really seem to care, mouths shut and eyes tired. Jungkook’s more than fine with that. The only thing that’s troubling him is the intent stare he feels across the room, Jimin’s dark eyes following his every movement, the ghost of a smirk on his plump lips. He feels watched.

Yoongi, on the other hand, has his eyes fixed on Jimin, fingers stroking the longer hair at the nape of his neck.

“I want this to be a fun and refreshing learning experience for all of you. Don’t be afraid to come to me if you have any questions, or any ideas—”

“I have a question.”

Jungkook’s eyes light up, looking for the person who spoke up. The student has their hand raised, but just a bit. “Yes?”

“How old are you? You look pretty young to be a teacher.”

“Ah,” Jungkook breathes out a laugh, nods. “I was expecting that question. I’m 25, and yes, I’m pretty young to be teaching, but I think my experience and determination is what got me here. Better than an old grumpy guy, no?”

A couple of students chuckle, and he feels so anxious he thinks he’ll faint right at that moment, but he swallows the last of his nerves down. The atmosphere’s everything but tense, the students seem at ease, so there’s no reason for him to freak out over them questioning his age. He does have a bit of a baby face. It’s only normal.

“Well then, if there aren’t any more questions, let’s get to it. The class will go as it used to, but if you think some things should be changed, I’m all ears.” No one speaks up, the twenty-or-so pairs of eyes just staring back at him. “Alright, then.” He glances back at the models who are patiently waiting, fingers intertwined. “Jimin, Yoongi, if you would please.”

“Of course, Mr. Jeon. Great introduction, by the way, never heard an art teacher talk so damn much,” Jimin jokes, loud enough for everyone to hear. A good part of the class laughs at that, and heat rushes to Jungkook’s cheeks.

Jimin speaks so confidently, walking across the room like he owns the place, takes so much space with just his presence. Some of the students stare at both him and Yoongi with heart eyes and Jungkook’s sure that he looks no different. He really hopes his cheeks aren’t too flushed, his mind’s already imagining, against his will, many, many scenarios that have nothing to do with the class. He has no control over those, they kind of just happen.

“Well done, Mr. Jeon,” Yoongi hushes, just for him to hear, the hint of a smile on his pouty lips.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, just takes a deep breath as they step up on the small stage, hands already gravitating towards their robe’s wrap. He tries not to stare too much, just stays near the platform to take their robes when they’ll be rid of them. But they take their time, looking at each other when undoing the loose knots. Their chemistry is palpable, sparking between them, and Jungkook finds himself swallowing hard, swimming in the heated tension they exude.

When their robes drop, so does Jungkook’s heart.

He finally sees Jimin’s tail. It’s shorter than Yoongi’s but thick with longer fur.

“Mr. Jeon,” Yoongi whispers, pulling him out of his head turned foggy. “The robes.”

He’s trying not to admire every single detail of their perfect bodies, of every beautiful curve and line they harbor, but it’s so hard. Visually, they’re both striking, sculpted by the gods, and Jungkook finally understands why the previous teacher was so fond of them. They’re different enough to make it interesting, a nice contrast of soft and hard, lean and thick. Different and yet similar, complimenting one another perfectly.

Too good to be true. Jungkook feels like he has to pinch himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming.

“Oh, yeah—” Jungkook takes the robes out of their hands and folds them hastily, gaze dropping to the floor. He feels hot all over, and he wishes he’d brought a t-shirt to change because the small of his back is downright soaked. Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s his nerves or the longing interest simmering in his veins.

“Thank you, Mr. Jeon.” Jimin’s voice is low, a slight rasp webbed within his words, and it sends shivers up Jungkook’s spine. “Enjoy the show.”

This is most definitely going to be the most challenging day of Jungkook’s life.

He sits down behind his own easel, hyping himself up as he plucks his favorite, perfectly sharpened pencil out of its case. Eyes fixed on the blank page in front of him. He’s reluctant to glance to the side, to what stands behind the protective cover of his easel, knows his mind’s going to wander to places it really shouldn’t be in this setting. He has to remind himself that he’s on the job, that he really needs this job. It helps to ground him a little, head momentarily out of the lustful clouds hazing his mind.

“First pose,” Jungkook calls out, clearing his throat.

He keeps it professional. They run through a couple of short poses, about thirty to forty seconds each, and Jungkook stays focused. He observes the lines, the curves, the bumps and the edges, lets his hand easily recreate the shapes presented in front of him. For a moment, he disconnects, fingers moving on their own, getting warmed up. It’s nice to be drawing again, he’s been focused on painting for weeks now.

But when the poses get longer, when he has to add more to the drawing, to take in more of the details that taunt him, he connects back.

More precisely, his eyes meet Jimin’s, all dark and heavy, and from then on, he’s a complete mess. Because right after that, his widened gaze locks with Yoongi’s, and there’s something in those eyes of his, something he can’t pinpoint but that somehow twists deep inside his groin. Jungkook’s weak, so fucking weak to the two men who are obviously staring back at him, and he can’t do anything but do the same, throat tight and fingers clenched.

If he’d hold the pencil any tighter, it’d probably break.

Jimin and Yoongi are enthralling, hypnotizing. Jungkook could watch them for hours on end. Examining every detail of their figure, all the crooks and bumps, letting his hand glide across the surface of his canvas as it would on their skin, trying to capture the essence of their lines, their enticing body language.

They’re both so confident on that stage, a deadly duo, effortlessly switching between poses, sometimes individually and sometimes touching each other, leaning against one another’s bodies.

Yoongi’s a bit shy, but he blossoms under Jimin’s silent encouragement, tries harder poses with a pink flush spreading on his cheeks. And Jimin seems completely absorbed by him, watches intently as he flourishes. At times, their positions are on the threshold of erotic, and Jungkook strongly considered throwing himself out of the window at least once or twice.

The only thing that keeps him sane is the timer of his phone that beeps whenever they have to switch poses. Somehow, it keeps his mind from drifting too far, like a warning that this isn’t the right time, isn’t the right place to acknowledge the deep heat simmering in the pit of his stomach.

It’s really hard to ignore it, but Jungkook’s nothing short of determined, and he makes it through the majority of their poses, focusing on what he’s paid to do and not the fact that there are two incredibly attractive hybrids pressed up against one another right in front of him. If he focuses hard enough, he’s sure he can do it, no matter how much of a pervert he is.

And then, as if the world is trying to make it even harder for him, really tormenting him right to the fucking bone, he notices a shift. It’s almost imperceptible, but Jungkook’s eyes were always very observant, and it’s only at that moment that he despises himself for it.

Jimin’s hard. Like, his dick. It’s hard.

His eyes linger on it for a second, and he knows this isn’t rare, that this often happens in these classes, but right now it’s everything but appreciated.

Then back to his sketch, strong eyebrows deeply furrowed, fingers tightly clutching onto his pencil for dear life. His lines are too dark, his pressure too strong but he can’t help it, the tool now his only means to grounding. His heartbeat’s hammering inside his warm chest, mind desperately trying to focus on the task at hand and not the lust that’s on the verge of overruling his thoughts. He feels a single bead of sweat trickle down his forehead and he wipes it off hastily before looking back at the pair who are still holding their graceful pose.

As much as the sight of Jimin’s erection makes him consider too many things at once, there’s something else that catches his attention.

There’s definitely a connection between the two, with how fondly they look at each other, how Yoongi’s fingers are always touching or just barely grazing against Jimin’s skin, always chasing after contact. How Jimin’s arms wrap around Yoongi’s body almost protectively, how he intently watches his every move. Often, their fingers are intertwined, limbs slotting together, lips exploring crooks and lines, bodies showing signs of evident arousal.

Like perked up nipples, goosebumps scattering over their skin, parted lips or, now, a hard-on.

Jungkook forces his gaze away to look at the minutes ticking down on his phone. Air is a little harder to breathe, now. He didn’t notice his entire body was clenched, he’s kind of sore. “Five minutes left!” The words came out a little shaky, he hopes no one noticed.

He sets his pencil down and stands up, walks around the class to give a few pointers, to get back into focus. He can’t be thinking about the two too much, so he distracts himself with drawings of them instead, that disconnect coming back and making it easier for him to actually breathe.

Jungkook’s glad to see some students aren’t afraid to ask questions, and he answers them eagerly. The class is pretty talented, and everyone seems very concentrated on their task. Jungkook couldn’t be happier.

“Do you guys need a break?” Jungkook mumbles as he inches closer to the stage, not quite looking at them. “Water? Anything?”

“Nah, we’re good,” Yoongi replies, and Jungkook has to look up, wants to witness the smile he knows is curling up the small corners of his lips. Yoongi’s always smiling, just seems so fond of everything around him, and it never fails to incite a stutter in Jungkook’s heartbeat.

“Hybrids have great stamina, y’know,” Jimin states, not a twitch in his lips, but eyes full of meaning that Jungkook can’t really decipher in the moment.

And Jungkook isn’t sure what to reply to that, doesn’t know if the comment should be taken with the hint of tease he feels laced within it. So he just walks away, sits back down on his chair, and hopes he’ll have the strength to carry through the rest of the class without popping a boner.



“See? Went perfectly fine,” Yoongi says casually, holding onto Jimin’s helping hand as he steps down the stage. The last of his students are exiting the room, and it pulls a weight off his shoulders. Glad that’s over.

Their hands stay locked together, fingers intertwining, and Jungkook catches himself staring. Surely, they have to be dating to be so comfortable around another, to have such intense chemistry.

Their sex life has to be fucking incredible. Jungkook can only imagine.

The pair is still very naked, and very casually chatting it up, black satin robes forgotten on the corner of the stage. Jungkook barely perceives their words, feels completely spent after such an intense session of trying not to stare at the coarse hair on Jimin’s pubis, the way it climbs its way up to his belly button, or Yoongi’s dark pink nipples, the soft flush that seems permanent on his chest and cheeks.

He’s lost inside his own nasty thoughts for a short moment, recalling all of the wondrous details he discovered earlier, from the scar on Jimin’s hip to the freckles on Yoongi’s nose, from the nick in Jimin’s right ear to Yoongi’s recently shaved armpits. He’d delve deeper if it wasn’t for someone snapping his fingers right in front of his face.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh? Sorry, what?”

“Drinks?” Jimin asks, and he looks like he’s repeated the word a couple of times now.

Jungkook frowns, really wishes he would have focused on the conversation instead of his rampant thoughts. “What drinks? You’re thirsty?”

Yoongi snorts. “You certainly are—”

“We asked if you wanted to grab some drinks later?” Jimin interrupts, hand resting on his sharp hip.

Jungkook squints at Yoongi, unsure if he heard him right, but then brings his attention back to Jimin and the question that weighs heavy in his belly.

“Drinks,” Jungkook repeats as if trying to confirm it for himself, “so like… alcohol? At a bar?”

“Yeah, alcohol, and yes, at a bar.” There’s something along the lines of mocking in Jimin’s tone, but Jungkook’s not affected by it, just shocked by the proposition. “That’s where people usually go for drinks. Unless you want to go clubbing? But clubs aren’t too great for chatting.”

They want to… chat? About what? Why? Jungkook’s mind turns into a rambling mess, and he desperately tries to make a sentence out of the words that pop out from the chaos.

“I, uh—yeah, bar, definitely, for drinks—later tonight.” Jungkook nods, tries to act casual, but knows he really isn’t with how Yoongi’s trying to keep himself from laughing, lips pressed together. “Yep. I do that. Drink at bars.”

“Alright… what time works best for you?” Jimin shifts his weight to his other hip, and Jungkook notices a dangle between his legs, and it takes all the strength left in his body not to look down.

“Anytime,” Jungkook replies a little too quickly, sure that his heart could fail any time soon with how quickly it’s hammering in his chest, on the verge of bursting through his ribcage. “Any time works.”

“Cool,” Jimin nods, hands slipping behind Yoongi’s back to wrap around his waist, “well, we have to head back home and discuss a couple of things, so how about we meet at the pub downtown at eight? The cool one with the big neon sign. Sound good to you?”

Jungkook has no clue what pub he’s referring to, but he certainly acts like he does. Google exists for a reason.

“Yeah, eight, fine with me—eight is great.” Jungkook mentally slaps himself about three times, hates how he’s so flustered when this certainly isn’t the first time he’s been asked out for drinks. He settles on the sole reason that these are butt naked hybrids making such an invite that, for some reason, makes him even more nervous than he was earlier. As if that’s even possible.

We have to head back home and discuss certain things.

What certain things? Why did he say that? Why did he have to specify that? Jungkook’s brain feels like it’s about to explode with how intensely he’s analyzing every possible meaning of those ten words that will surely haunt him for the rest of the day.

“Well, see you then, Mr. Jeon.” Yoongi smirks, walking past him, shoulders just barely brushing against one another.

“Wear something sexy,” Jimin says, voice deeper than usual, latching onto his gaze with an intensity that’s almost unsettling.

Jungkook’s mind is, once more, sparked into chaos.



Jungkook stands in the midst of a sea of clothing, wearing nothing but a pair of old basketball shorts, on the verge of ripping his own hair out as he tries to come up with an outfit that can be considered anything along the lines of sexy.

And yet all he has are oversized clothes of all kinds, from t-shirts to hoodies to sweaters and whatever else is in his extensive collection of comfortable attire.

Nothing even close to sexy. He’s doomed.

He sniffs, at least he smells good. Maybe that could make up for it. Jungkook’s all cleaned up, put extra care into it, not that he’s expecting anything to happen. But just in case. You never know.

He’s ready to get fucked, yeah, but certainly not to seduce. There are steps to follow here, and he’s only ready for the final one.

Just as he‘s about to give up, there’s a knock at his door. “It’s a mess in here.”

“Like I care,” Seokjin says through the door before swinging it open. “Oh. Damn, you good there, bud?” He walks inside slowly, staring down at the black piles with his hands raised defensively.

“I’m supposed to wear something sexy tonight, but as you probably know, I own nothing that’s fucking sexy.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Seokjin sighs, shaking his head. Suddenly he’s not so weary of possible fabric monsters and just pitiful of the desperate, grown ass man on the brink of frustrated tears. “You’re so lucky to have me in your life.”

“Am I? Am I really?” Jungkook purses his lips, tries to look like he’s considering it long and hard but then bursting into laughter with the deadpan expression on his friend’s face.

“I could just leave instead of turning you into a walking sex symbol, if you’d prefer that.”

“Wait, no, Jin, I need this—” his voice cracks into something along the lines of desperate, all whiny and high-pitched as he pounces forward to grab his arm, pulling him deeper into the pools of clothing covering the floor. “I’m nothing without you. I’m just a sweatpants-wearing dumb gay loser, I need your wise advice and incredible taste in fashion. Please.”

“Ugh, you really do know how to talk to me.” Seokjin pulls his arm out of Jungkook’s frantic hold but smiles, sighing loudly as he scans the room and the piles of nothing but black fabric around them.

His smile fades pretty quickly.

“Yeah uh, we’re not gonna find anything here. Your wardrobe’s absolute shit. How do you even get out of the house wearing this crap?” Jungkook almost feels hurt, tired eyes glaring at him, but keeps his mouth shut. This can almost be considered merciful, coming from Seokjin. He has a sharp tongue when it comes to insulting Jungkook’s wardrobe. “Come to my room, I should have some old clothes that’d fit you.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you—” Jungkook chants, knowing very well Seokjin hates sharing his clothes, following him out of the room and into his own.

“What’s happening, anyway? Why do you have to look sexy?” Seokjin asks, pushing hangers to the side. The sound makes Jungkook wince. “This is the first time I see you actually want to try and look nice. Usually, I have to like, force you. You went to a club wearing some fucking track pants once, remember?”

“Uh, well,” Jungkook swallows, licks his lips. “I have a date, kinda? Not sure what it is, to be honest.”

“A date? Kook, last time you had a date, I’m pretty sure you walked out still wearing your pajamas.” Seokjin turns to face him, a deep frown set between his strong eyebrows. “Oh no.”

“What?” Jungkook blinks, can feel Seokjin’s judgment piercing right through his head.

“You’ve got that nasty look in your eye. The hell did you do—” Seokjin gasps, eyes widening when it hits him. “Wait a minute, don’t tell me—”

Seokjin knows of his little fixation. Unfortunately for him, he stumbled upon Jungkook’s knotted dildo collection trying to find his cell phone plug, and not only that but he also walked in on Jungkook jacking off to hybrid porn at least three or four times now. The poor man.

Jungkook nods slowly, looking down at his feet as heats flares through his cheeks. “Yep.”

“Oh you nasty fucker.”



Jungkook sighs as he tries to tuck his dress shirt back in his uncooperative slacks, already regrets letting Seokjin dress him up. He’s definitely overdressed, but he looks sexy, or at least his roommate convinced him of that.

He looks up at the neon sign over of his head, really hopes that this is the pub Jimin was referring to. Not many bars in the area, certainly not any with this big of a sign, so there’s a high chance it is.

Jungkook catches his reflection in the bar’s front window, and he has to admit he does look better than how he usually presents himself. Though the annoyance at the lack of mobility is starting to overpower the slight boost of confidence. His black dress shirt is too tight, and so are his matching slacks. They’re hugging his limbs so tightly that the curve of muscle is visible beneath the thin fabric. The shoes he’s wearing hurt his feet, some leather derbies he last wore at his high school graduation.

But, at least, he looks good, something along the lines of sexy. He repeats that in his head like a mantra, hopes it’ll distract him from the bitterness bleeding at the back of his mind. Jungkook just really hopes this outfit will work in his favor. Prepping your ass for nothing is always so disappointing.

Again, he’s not expecting anything, could find another way to make his effort worth it, but something’s telling him that there’s an underlying interest hidden behind the invitation.

But maybe that’s just the horny talking.

When he walks in the bar, he’s hit with a wave of different sounds, of different smells. A loud buzz of chatter, glasses clinking, chairs moving and faint lounge slash pop slash jazzy music. It’s too warm, the air thick with perfumes who don’t go well with each other, but it’s not packed in the way that makes Jungkook’s skin crawl. He’s really not a fan of crowds.

It doesn’t take too long for him to spot the two men that invited him there. They’re sitting at a table in the far corner of the room, distanced from the other groups and the lone drinkers at the bar. He walks there hastily, head tilted down and gaze looking anywhere but back at them. Their eyes are just too intense for him right now.

“Hey,” he mutters when he’s finally out of the maze of tables, standing next to theirs, hand already placed on the only free chair’s back. There’s a lot of people glancing at him, and it doesn’t help the anxiousness building up inside his stomach. Why are they looking? Is there something on his cheek? In his hair?

“Oh, Mr. Jeon, you made it.” Yoongi smiles as he rests his chin on the back of his hand. Still graceful, even off stage. His skin is glowing in the dim light, high cheekbones and tip of his nose sparkling with every slight shift of his face. He’s wearing a beanie, unfortunately hiding his cute little cat ears. Well, Jungkook thinks he’s a cat. A half-cat. A cat hybrid. He’s not sure which term is correct. “I’m glad.”

“We were wondering if you stood us up,” Jimin says as he leans back, elbow resting on the back of Yoongi’s chair, fingers playing with the other man’s hair. His pecs stretch the fabric of his thin white shirt and Jungkook tries not to stare. Glances away from the two evident shadows poking through.

Contrary to Yoongi, his ears are out, seemingly relaxed. Jungkook’s still not used to them, and he latches onto the sight a little too long for it to be unnoticed. Better than staring at his nipples.

“Sorry I’m late, not from this neighborhood.” Jungkook slides his jacket off his shoulders and hangs it on a hook on the wall beside him, next to two other coats. He recognizes Jimin’s leather jacket. “I got a little lost. And you can call me Jungkook.”

“You look nice, Jungkook.” Jimin stares him down, from the top of his head until he has to move sideways to scan down the length of his legs, then back up. “Sexy.” There’s something cocky in his face, like a 'just like I asked', and Jungkook’s cheeks feel hot.

He’s not really used to such straightforward compliments, but he isn’t surprised. Jimin oozes confidence, he probably always speaks his mind, doesn’t even think about it. “I, uh—thank you. You two also look… good.”

“Just good?” Yoongi says, voice a little quiet. There’s a curl in his lips, and Jungkook stares at them for a second, how pretty and pink they are.

“Ha, well,” Jungkook clears his throat and sits down, already fearing how this night’s going to turn out. He just knows he’ll mess up. Seokjin always said he was quite the awkward kid. Actually, everyone did. “No, more than good. I lack the words.”

“What do you want to drink?” Jimin asks, and Jungkook notices they’re already two glasses down.

He looks for a menu, but there’s none in sight. “Any beer will do.”

“Ale, lager, stout? Amber, blond, dark?” Jimin shoots back to back, not a twitch in his calm traits. Jungkook wonders how he does that. How he can just stay deadpan and still pin him down.

“I see you know your beers,” Jungkook answers, voice a little shaky. Jimin’s intimidating, to say the least. The kind that makes your skin tingle, pulls the breath right out of your lungs. Yoongi’s presence is comforting enough, he’s sweeter in the way he stares at Jungkook, though he still makes his chest feel tight.

In his defense, a lot of things make Jungkook’s chest feel tight. He’s an anxious mess. Pretty good at acting like he isn’t, though. Well, he sure hopes so.

“I know a lot of things, but Yoongi’s the smart one here.” Yoongi rolls his eyes at that and hits his shoulder playfully, but his cheeks flush a soft shade of pink. Jungkook wonders if they feel a little warm, how soft they are. Wonders if Jimin covers them in kisses. “Anyway, Yoongi’s grand intellect aside,” he gets another hit for that, “gotta be more precise.”

Jungkook squares his shoulders a little, and he’s not sure why exactly, but he sticks to it. “I’m not picky, surprise me.”

Jimin raises a single eyebrow and motions for the waiter not too far from them. “Two pints of your best dark malt, one strawberry Caipirinha. Thank you.” He offers the waiter a warm smile and his gaze quickly gravitates back towards Jungkook, with the same intensity they always seem to harbor. Dark and fucking devastating.

“So,” Yoongi starts, leaning forward on the table, “how was the class?”

“It went fine, better than I thought,” Jungkook answers honestly. Except for the constant gay panic, he thinks. “Think I won’t be fired on the spot.”

“And how was… the show?” Jimin adds. There’s a shift in Yoongi’s arm, underneath the table.

Jungkook swallows. “The show?”

“Us.” And there’s that thing in Yoongi’s eyes again, that mischief, that hint of tease that forces a deep breath out of Jungkook’s lungs. He’s so… charming. Drawing Jungkook in effortlessly. He looks kind of shy, but at the same time, really not. “We’re the show.”

“Oh, right,” Jungkook clears his throat for what feels like the hundredth time, looks down at his knotted fingers as he easily recalls the class, just how stupidly entranced he was by them. Again, it gets hot a little too quickly, and he regrets his choice of attire. He should’ve gone with the plain black t-shirt. Curse that damn Seokjin and his over-the-top gene. “Uhm, I mean—well—it was certainly, hm—”

Jimin smirks. “Use your words, sweetie.”

“What—”

The waiter interrupts him, standing in his line of vision as he sets the glasses down on the table, one by one. Jungkook just stares at the bubbles almost spilling over the glass’ edge.

He then instinctively pulls his wallet out of his pocket, but Jimin puts his hand up. “I got it.”

“Thank you.” Jungkook’s not one to speak against that. Money’s tight these days.

“Our pleasure, pretty boy,” Yoongi purrs, and it takes a good couple of seconds for Jungkook to swallow that down, to process the pet names that casually cross the man’s lips. Does he call anyone like that? Or is he—

Jungkook dismisses the thought. He knows better than to jump to conclusions. Yoongi probably calls everyone pet names. He’s a flirt, it’s obvious. They both are. But in very different ways.

They all grab their respective drinks and clink them, cheering to a successful class, and the many to come. All smiles, friendly and hopeful even though there’s a deep heat simmering in the pit of Jungkook’s stomach, a tension building up in his chest.

Maybe it's the ambiance or the drinks in hand that make Jungkook a bit more relaxed, but they swerve into a long, casual conversation that surprisingly flows quite naturally.

Jungkook learns a lot of things as minutes tick by too quickly; how Jimin has gone through a plethora of part-time jobs, sometimes teaching angry teenagers kickboxing, sometimes coaching volleyball, only modeling nude for extra pocket money.

Yoongi is actually a full-time model, has appeared in a bunch of magazines, and he too models nude when cash is tight but also because it lets him express himself in a way fashion magazines can't. He says it's kind of liberating, and Jimin agrees.

Liberating, huh.

Jungkook tries to keep a straight face when Jimin chugs those beers like they don’t even affect him, when Yoongi sucks on the strawberries that float on top of his rosy drink whilst staring at him dead in the eye.

He tries really hard.

Jungkook also tries not to sound like he’s boasting when he shares the basics about himself, how he just zoomed through school and was top of his class, tutored on weekends and even did volunteering to make his resume extra notable.

He realizes he’s kind of boring, compared to these two. They’re full of crazy anecdotes, movie-worthy adventures, and unexpected meetings. Jungkook wants to be like that, too. Wants to live a little.

"A real good boy, huh?" Jimin comments, and Jungkook doesn’t reply to that, only downs the rest of his glass.

And then the subject of Yoongi and Jimin’s relationship inevitably comes into play, and Jungkook’s surprised to learn they’re just friends. But it’s weird, it’s hard to believe when they’re so close, so intimate. The gentle caresses, the fond eyes and impossible chemistry they share doesn’t add up to mere friendship.

Probably fuckfriends. There’s no other way. Jungkook doesn’t voice his doubt, just nods and smiles.

The more time ticks by, the more alcohol flows through his bloodstream, the closer he gets to them. Knee just grazing against Jimin’s, hand inches from Yoongi’s on top of the table. He’s not sure how that happened, but he relinquishes in the faint warmth emanating from the man’s body, the smell of pine trees clinging to his skin. Yoongi’s lips are even prettier up close. They look really soft, almost impossibly so, he notes.

He won’t question it. It’s better that way, the last thing he needs is to over analyze this, too. For now, he’ll just go with the flow of it. He doesn’t mind proximity, actually enjoys it. And he’ll never complain about getting closer to pretty boys. It’s definitely the last thing he’d ever do. He’s gay to the bone.

But the easy flow they’ve been cruising on comes to an abrupt halt when Jimin’s hand rests on his thigh. When the tip of Yoongi’s fingers stroke along the length of his.

Jungkook looks down, then at Yoongi’s hand. He blinks.

Don’t question it. Don’t question it. Don’t question it.

It’s now that he realizes he’s tipsy, and his face feels all hot, and Yoongi’s lips look too fucking kissable. Jimin’s intense gaze isn’t helping the molten lava coursing through his veins, and it’s all a mess now, just a big heated chaos spreading too quickly through his limbs, echoing and aching right in his pants. Jimin’s hand is warm and heavy, feels like it could burn Jungkook’s already heated skin. Yoongi’s gentle caress is featherlight and fucking titillating, hair rising on his arms.

He was always so easy to stir. Overwhelmed by the slightest touch. Not his fault he’s so sensitive.

Jungkook wants to breathe—he can't—not in this tight shirt, not with the weight of Jimin's hand, of Yoongi's steady stare. Jungkook really hopes he's not imagining this, wishes that this is real and palpable and that these two guys want to fuck him just as bad as he wants to fuck them.

It eats at him, the need to feel more, bleeding through his brain, to have all four of their hands touching, exploring every inch of his skin. He swallows it down with some more beer. He can’t remember how many it’s been. Five, six, seven? Jungkook’s just grateful he’s a heavyweight. He wants to be alert, wants to remember all of this. He politely refuses when Jimin offers another beer.

“Jungkook, I have to ask,” Jimin starts. His voice low, gravelly, scattering goosebumps all across the nape of Jungkook’s neck. He really wants to hear it moan and groan. “Have you met a lot of hybrids before?”

Jungkook notices a shift in Yoongi’s arm, but he doesn’t dare to look. He shakes his head. “No. You two are the first, actually.”

“And what do you think of hybrids?”

Alarms blare inside Jungkook’s head, and he swallows hard as he tries not to blurt out the first thing that comes to his lust-hazed mind. “I, uh, I like hybrids—well, like I’d like anyone—I guess.”

“Really? Nothing more?” Jimin pushes, and Jungkook knows this is a trap, it’s obvious with the glint in Yoongi’s eyes, with the smirk he’s not even trying to hide.

“Well, maybe a little more,” he admits, throat feeling tight. “Hybrids are just—you have this vibe y’know? So... captivating.”

“Really, hm?” Jimin grins before taking a long, slow sip of his beer. Jungkook wants to lick the drop that trickles down his impossibly plump bottom lip right off. Maybe suck on it a little, too. Bets he tastes good.

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods, noticing that the pair isn’t reacting badly to his statement, quite the opposite. He’s not sure he can properly translate hybrid body language well, but Jimin’s ears are perked up a little, unmoving. Has to mean a certain interest, right? Or curiosity, at least? He definitely has to look this shit up when he gets home. “Just so… intense. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s a feeling, y’know?”

“Oh, we know,” Yoongi answers for the both of them, and Jimin’s thick fingers tighten around the muscle of Jungkook’s thigh. He can’t help but clench.

And that’s when Jungkook lets it out. His last drink suddenly hits him and he has no filter, just a loose tongue and unrestrained thoughts. There’s no use in hiding it when they obviously know. They’re into him, for sure. They’re touching him, for fuck’s sake. Jungkook’s not the most confident of all, but he’s no idiot.

“Y’know, earlier I was thinking, “man, I wish I could get like, uh, a private session”, I don’t know—a time where I could really go at it, yeah? You two are really incredible.” The truth easily rolls off his tongue with the beer flooding his system, with the feverish buzz clouding his mind. He’s not really sure what he’s saying, but he’s saying it anyway. “Every single student was fucking hypnotized by you. Never seen that before—nude models come and go, but you two, damn, unforgettable.”

“Is that so?” The two look at each other. Jimin cocks his head to the side, and Jungkook really wants to take a whiff of his hair. He keeps getting distracted, the more he looks, the more he slips, the mellow feeling in his veins urging him to drown in that silky brown hair, to nuzzle those fluffy ears. And then he spots his neck, so thick, all tense muscle and veins and scratchy skin. Jungkook’s gone, he wants, wants, wants. “A private session.”

“A private session,” Yoongi repeats, letting the words hang between them.

“Hm?” Jungkook blinks, unsure what’s going on. He’s not really listening.

The two are just looking at each other, communicating with their eyes or whatever. Speaking of, Yoongi has such pretty eyes. Long, soft eyelashes. Jungkook’s not sure if he’s seeing right, but it looks like there’s a little shadow around the edge of it, maybe some eyeliner or eyeshadow or who knows what, he lacks the knowledge—but damn, it’s hot. He wants to see it smudged, wants to do it himself.

Jimin smirks. “Why not?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi drawls, the hint of a smile spreading on his lips as he looks back at Jungkook, “why not?”

Jungkook freezes in place as the pair stare at him. He’s brought back to the present, out of his filthy, impulsive thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“I’m fine with it,” Jimin shrugs and his hand feels even heavier now, almost crushing. Jungkook wants—he wants it around his neck, he wants it pulling on his hair, around his— “I’d love that, actually.”

Yoongi’s hand slides up his forearm, so gentle it scatters goosebumps all over Jungkook’s body. Fingers so long, the things they could do to him, the sweet spots they could reach. “So am I.”

Jungkook’s gaze flicks between the two, he’s still so confused, doesn’t want to assume anything, and the buzz of booze really isn’t helping his case. He’s pretty sure he heard glimpses of their short exchange, but he doesn’t want to believe it. “With what?”

“A private session. Just the three of us.”

There it is. Jungkook’s jaw hangs, heart beating so hard he’s sure it’ll fail. “Oh.

Yoongi hums, looks a little excited, biting down a smile. “After this?”

“After this,” Jimin nods.

“Where?” Jungkook’s brain kickstarts again, puts one plus one together. “The classroom?” They both nod. “But we’re not allowed there at this time. School’s closed—”

“You have the keys, no?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise. He hates how he’s considering it. How he’s considering losing the job he’s been dreaming of to have a private sketching session with two men he just met. Two fucking gorgeous men, though. The pros are already outweighing the cons. “I do have the keys.”

“Previous teacher told us he used to go there all the time, even late hours,” Yoongi states casually, drawing warm circles in Jungkook’s skin. Everything’s so warm.

His eyes widen, not a hundred percent sure he should believe them, but honestly, he doesn’t really give a shit right now. They could be lying out of their asses, he’ll still gobble it up. He’s just that whipped, and also really fucking horny. “He did?”

“Yep.” Jimin’s hand slips a little higher. Jungkook wants to scream.

He swallows the doubt and the little saliva left in his dry mouth and nods. He’s acting out of pure idiocy right now, and as much as it feels wrong, it also feels very right.

He did say he wanted to live a little, no?

But maybe that’s just his dick talking. “Okay. Let’s go.”



“We’ll do like in a normal class, hm?” Jimin speaks softly, lifting Yoongi’s chin up with his fingers. “A couple of short poses, then longer ones.” He then turns, gaze even darker, if that’s even possible. It pins Jungkook to his seat. “That sound good to you, Mr. Jeon?

“Y-Yes,” Jungkook mutters, hand clutching onto his pencil much too tightly. “Sounds great.”

Jimin nods once and Yoongi slowly undoes the wrap of his robe, obeying the man’s silent command. The fabric slides off his fair shoulders and onto the floor, dark silk pooling around his feet, a puddle of charcoal gloss. Yoongi’s gaze holds onto Jimin’s, as if enraptured by his fierce eyes, fingers delicately stroking the inside of his strong forearms.

Jimin whispers something to him, but Jungkook can’t quite catch it, thoughts a buzzing mess inside of his head. It’s near silent in the room, but his mind and heartbeat are the loudest they’ve ever been.

He’s just staring. Trying to breathe. Process it all.

To Jungkook’s surprise, Jimin leaves the stage. He steps down from the small platform as Yoongi places himself on his knees, arms extended over his head. He let one of his hands fall, a graceful pose which Jungkook is quick to start sketching, trying his best to stay concentrated with the intimidating presence looming closer.

There’s something about Jimin, his aura imposing. Jungkook always finds himself short of breath when he approaches. Jimin’s every action is heavy with intent, every word carefully thought-out. Planned, calculated.

Jungkook’s mind is jumping to conclusions already, or perhaps he’s expecting this private session to end in a certain way. He’s a bit sobered up, not riding on that alcohol-fed lust from earlier, thinking a little straighter. So right now, he’s just left with tainted hope.

But maybe he shouldn’t hope for anything. Maybe this is nothing more than a private sketching session. Maybe he’s downright delusional for thinking it could lead to anything else.

Just a bunch of maybes and he can’t settle on one.

He shivers and takes a deep breath, blinks away his rampant thoughts and focuses on what’s happening before him, the curves of Yoongi’s body and the replica on his sketchbook. This is what he asked for, right? A private session to draw them. This is what he wanted.

And Jungkook does want. He wants too many different things right now, and none of them include drawing.

But why isn’t Jimin on that stage?

His hand works fast, just sketching the general form of his body, the main curves and lines. The side of his hand gliding across the canvas, sound reassuring, comforting. For a moment, he’s actually concentrated, gaze following Yoongi’s movement, how he easily shifts from one pose to another, all the more beautiful. Jungkook’s entranced by him, by the grace and beauty before him, wants to fill his page with just him and only him over and over again. Capture every detail, the essence of his bewitching presence.

He’s taken back to a memory not too old, when he was sitting in a classroom not much unlike this one, a determined student. But this moment’s very different, a completely contrasting mood overtaking the entirety of the vast room and Jungkook’s mind.

Tension is thick in the air. Jungkook could grab a fistful of it, can taste it on the tip of his tongue.

Moonlight shines through the high windows, casting shadows in just the right places, enhancing the sharp features of Yoongi’s face, intensifying the soft curves of his body. The light reflects beautifully against his paler skin, almost glimmering like untainted snow in the sunlight. Taut, lean muscle poking through it, stunning lines that Jungkook’s hand is eager to trace.

Yoongi is attractive in a very ethereal way, a natural, enthralling sensuality in his every move, in every instinctive shift of his limbs. He’s slender yet sharp, a captivatingly gorgeous blend of contrasting features. Milky skin and charcoal hair, soft pink lips and long black tail curling around his waist.

Of course he’s a model. His face should be plastered on every magazine cover, body on every billboard out there. Yoongi is irresistible. He’s so incredibly aware of his body, of every little detail, down to the angle of his fingers and part of his lips.

Jungkook snaps out of his awe as Jimin circles around him, steps light and measured.

Like a, dare he say it, predator.

The heated tension around Jungkook grows, heartbeat quickening in his chest, sweat pearling over his eyebrow. He can feel Jimin’s gaze burning the back of his head, the weight of it pressing down on his shoulders.

His concentration falters already, overwhelmed by Yoongi’s poses growing more erotic by the minute, laying on his back with his limbs spread out, soft cock laying atop his stretched stomach. Neck extended and exposing all the dainty bones and tense muscles, a web of veins decorating the surface.

The sudden, unexpected touch of Jimin’s fingertips just barely grazing along the width of his shoulders gets him all rigid and worked up, the heat of it bleeding through Jungkook’s thin shirt. Jimin traces a straight line across, takes his time with it. Jungkook can physically feel his presence, can hear his regular, stable breathing.

Jungkook’s hand stills. He takes another long, drawn-out breath.

He’s sure he can do it, he really is. His hand starts moving again, abandoning his mess of a page to start anew with Yoongi’s next pose. But then Jimin’s hand explores a little higher, makes it really hard for him not to close his eyes and just feel. The back of his fingers is tracing the length of Jungkook’s neck—a very sensitive spot of his—and then the line of his clenched jaw. Jungkook has to stifle a moan.

Whether it’s the choking tension pulsing around him or the very intense infatuation he has for these two men, he simply can’t swallow down the lust simmering deep in the pit of his stomach. It’s impossible to ignore, beckoning him to act, to do something.

He’s silently begging, waiting for Jimin to do so. For Yoongi to say something, anything. He can’t bring himself to do it, stunned in place, words caught in his throat.

But then Jimin’s hand slides over Jungkook’s chest, firm and warm, and Jungkook has to close his eyes. He can feel Jimin’s hard chest pressed against the top of his shoulders, can feel his warmth wrap around him. He’s nothing but feeling, all that solid and hot, entire being swallowed by Jimin’s crushing proximity.

“Pencil steady, teacher,” Jimin whispers next to him, locks of hair tickling Jungkook’s cheekbone. A thousand tiny sparks spread down his spine and straight to his groin. “He’s such a pretty kitty, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Jungkook whispers back, eyes fluttering open again. “He really is.”

“Have you ever considered modeling nude, Mr. Jeon?” Jungkook inhales sharply. He gets so fucking weak when they call him that. “You have such a strong body.” Jimin squeezes Jungkook’s chest a little, pulling yet another short breath out of him. “I can feel it under my fingertips. Hard lines.”

“I, no, I—” Jungkook swallows, entire body bursting into flames. “Never considered.”

Jimin clicks his tongue, shakes his head a bit, and Jungkook wants to turn around and just kiss the guy, but he’s still frozen in place. “Such a shame. I bet a lot of people would love to see you nude. And draw you, of course.” Jimin’s hand palms lower, pressing hard against Jungkook’s taut stomach. “So hard. Such deep lines, I’m sure.”

Jungkook’s panicked gaze glances down at Jimin’s hand, then his own crotch. Shit. His tight pants are even tighter now, bulge stretching the fabric to its limit. When he looks back up, Yoongi’s on all fours, back arched beautifully, ass in the air. He’s facing Jungkook, half-lidded gaze glued to him, long black tail slinking from side to side.

What a fucking view that is. Jungkook forgets to breathe.

“The sketch, Mr. Jeon.” Jungkook can feel Jimin’s smile against his ear. The warm breath that gets him squirming. “Focus.”

“I really don’t think I can,” Jungkook meekly admits, shaking his head. His eyes are fixed on the movement of Yoongi’s tail, the faint twitch in his flattened ears. It’s still hard to believe that he’s in this room with two hybrids, one naked on a stage and the other pressed up against him and feeling him up all over, quite literally his biggest fantasy coming to life.

Curse his fixation on hybrids. They render him weak. He never openly admitted his preference, but it’s now obvious with how easily stirred he is by them, by their bewitching presence and charm. He’s never been this much of a fucking mess.

“Can I ask you a… personal question?” Jimin asks, and Jungkook can only nod as a response, words dying in his throat. “Have you ever fucked a hybrid before?”

Jungkook chokes, coughing loudly as Jimin brushes the side of his hip, stopping right over his waistband. “I, no,” he mumbles, out of breath, “god—I wish.” His eyes are fixed on Yoongi, on his little ears and long, long tail. There’s so much he wants to do right now, but he doesn’t know where to start, overwhelmed from head to toe. He wants to touch it. Touch all of him. “Can I ask… you? A personal question?”

Jimin’s fingers dig down on his waist. Jungkook clenches. “Yes, darling?”

“What are… you?” He feels like he’s choking. He wants to choke. “Yoongi’s a cat... but what about you?”

“A big, bad wolf.”

Predator.

“Oh.”

Jungkook hears a cute little chuckle coming from the stage. His vision’s blurred, he can barely make out the shape of Yoongi looking back at them. “Can never take you seriously when you say that.”

Jimin growls. Jimin literally fucking growls right against Jungkook’s ear and the next second there’s a strong tremor shaking through his entire body. “Shush, kitty. I’ll eat you whole.”

“Oh, Jimin.” There’s something in Yoongi’s voice, it’s tainted by lust, all breathy and downright filthy. “Y’know how turned on I get when you talk dirty.”

Jungkook blinks. He’s desperately trying to process it all. Eyes just staring, taking it all in. Jimin’s hand keeps moving, always so heavy and hot, but never going below the belt. Just skimming right over it, taunting him.

One question pops inside his head. For some reason, he just has to know. “Did you do this with the other teacher, too?” His voice is so small it’s almost pathetic.

“No, he was a voyeur,” Jimin states casually. “Just wanted to watch Yoongi and I fuck and draw it. He said we were very inspiring.”

Ah.” Jungkook nods too quickly, eyebrows furrowed deep as Yoongi moves again, on his back, long fingers squeezing around the tip of his now hard cock. It’s big and pink, the same shade as his nipples. Jungkook licks his lip. “And you're... fine with that?” It’s hard to speak when all he can focus on is the drag of Yoongi’s hand, the stutter of his hips.

“I don't know if you noticed, sweetheart, but we’re kinda into this whole exhibitionist thing.” And with that, Jimin’s hand finally crosses the line of his belt, teasing along the clenched muscle of Jungkook’s thigh, always just grazing, barely there. The hint of a touch that drives Jungkook wild. He doesn’t understand how it feels so heavy. "Are you a bit of a voyeur too?"

"Well,” Jungkook swallows, unsure if he wants to expose himself like that, but pushed by the weight on his leg, by the sight in front of him. There’s a small moan crossing Yoongi’s parted, spit-slicked lips. He’s stroking himself properly, twisting his wrist at the leaking tip, back arching off the platform. Jungkook is downright hypnotized. “Yeah, but... I'd rather participate."

"I was hoping you'd say that.” Jimin’s hands are off, and a plea hangs on the tip of Jungkook’s tongue. “Pants, down."

“Wait, what?” Jungkook chokes, turning his head to glare at him.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow at him. “I thought you said you’d rather participate?”

“I, well, I mean, I didn’t think you meant now—“

“Really, Jungkook? You thought we’d come back here and you’d just sketch us like that? When you’re so obviously into us, and us into you?”

“I… I don’t know, yeah, maybe—” The look on Jimin’s face is something along the lines of unimpressed. "Just pants?" Jungkook whispers, throat feeling tight, groin heavy and hot.

"Just pants, baby,” Jimin says, voice warm and low, lips just a couple of inches from his. “We're in no rush. Nice and slow, hm? Got all night."

The word barely crosses his lips. “Okay.”

Jungkook unbuttons his slacks and slides his thumbs under the waistband, lifting his hips up to pull them down. He feels Jimin’s soft, plump lips press against his neck and he exhales a load of tension out, melting with the embrace that he’s been dying to feel for the past hours. They’re just like he imagined, plush and silky beyond comprehension. Jungkook hastily kicks his pants off, legs spread, hard bulge in his underwear exposed.

“You smell good,” Jimin whispers in his ear before nibbling on his lobe. “So good.” Jimin grabs a fistful of his hair and makes him look forward, where Yoongi is currently one finger deep in his ass. Cheeks flushed red, eyes rolled back. Holy fucking—“You know, hybrids have very sensitive noses. We can smell things normal humans can’t. Strong emotions, like fear, anger... arousal.”

“Oh—really?”

“I smelled arousal on you ‘soon as we stepped out of that changing room.” Jungkook’s heart drops. “And during the class. And at the bar. But right now, you reek of sex. Thick and hot.” Jungkook’s fucking lost now. Pretty sure he’s close to passing out. This whole hybrid talk, this thing he researched but never thought he’d actually witness. Scents and slick and knots and marks and Jungkook can’t breathe again. “Such a strong scent for a human, makes my mouth water.”

Shit, Jimin, I—“

“Wish you could smell what I smell.” His words are hard liquor, smooth and fiery, and Jungkook just keeps drinking, swallows it all up eagerly. “Yoongi’s so sweet. Kind of sweetness that takes over your mind—wraps around you and leaves you wanting more. And he tastes even better.”

Jungkook doesn’t even know what to reply, ceding to the man’s words, to the sight of Yoongi fingering himself like that, for them to see, for them to watch, small whines and moans rolling off his cute pink tongue.

“You really like hybrids, hm?” Jimin asks, but it’s more of a statement.

“Well, yeah, I really fucking do—”

Jimin hums, pleased. “Got a thing for ‘em? A kink?

“I, sorry if that’s offensive or I don’t know but—yeah.”

“None taken. Hybrids are very… enthralling beings. So mysterious, hm? Intense.” There’s something in Jimin’s voice, almost mocking, and Jungkook feels shameful, but somehow it’s nice. Like he wants Jimin to shame him. The first time he’s ever thought about something like that. “You watched hybrid porn before?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Ha, yeah, pretty much the only thing I watch.”

“So you know that there are some who self-lubricate, hm?” Just the thought of it makes his cock twitch. “And some with… knots? You familiar with the term?”

Jungkook swallows, mind taken to a specific drawer in his bedroom. There’s a small, wet patch seeping through his underwear. “Very familiar.”

Jimin’s hand presses hard against Jungkook’s bulge, and he immediately jolts, can’t help but push up against his warm hand, chasing after the touch he’s been craving so hard it hurt. Jimin’s hands are magical, he’s sure. “Yoongi, baby, show us your ass.”

Yoongi obeys, turning around so his ass is on full display. He spreads his cheeks apart, and Jungkook catches something glistening in the moonlight. Liquid, trickling out of his hole.

“Ever wondered what slick tastes like, Jungkook?”

God, every day of his life. “Fuck. Yes,” he stops to swallow hard, blinking quickly, “so bad—”

“You should go and try it out.”

“I—what?

“Look at him, he’s spread for you, leaking slick.” He can’t believe he’s this hard, never felt so fucking aroused in his life, cock feels like it’s going to burst, and Jimin’s hand is so firm, so insistent. “He wants it, Jungkook. Wants you.”

“Mr. Jeon, please—” Yoongi purrs from the stage, fingers spreading his ass even more. “Come taste your kitty.”

A series of curses roll off his tongue, and Jimin chuckles against his neck, lips pressing soft kisses against the damp surface.

"Is this a dream? Please tell me this isn't a dream."

"Does this," Jimin starts before slipping his fingers under his briefs and around Jungkook's pulsing cock, just barely squeezing below the head, "feel like a dream?"

Jungkook's breath hitches and he looks down at the hand tightly curled around his length now out of the constricting fabric, breath taken right out of his lungs as he watches Jimin's thumb brush over the pearl of precum. "Fuck—I mean, yeah, kinda too good to be true—"

The firm pressure of Jimin’s hands tightening around his dick is very real, and so is Yoongi on that stage, very real and very aroused, slick trickling down his balls and thigh. Jungkook takes a deep breath and it burns through his lungs.

“Are you sure? I—do you want this?”

“Oh, we do, Mr. Jeon.” Jimin licks the hint of sweat off his neck and Jungkook just melts. He lets his head fall back, hisses when Jimin picks up a rhythm around his cock, squeezing so tight it’s just on the threshold of painful, but still oh so good. “Yoongi, keep on stretching that ass. He’s thick.”

“Fuck, okay, yeah—” he exhales as Jimin kisses more of his neck, licking along the line of his jaw, nibbling the sensitive skin. Jungkook’s squirming in his seat, legs spreading further and hips pushing up, fucking into that tight, heavy hold. He has to let his doubt go and just enjoy the moment. Body and mind abdicating to the touch, the view, both fucking glorious.

“You gonna keep him waiting?” Jimin rasps. “Poor little kitty, look at him.”

And Jungkook does look, gaze half-lidded and hazed by lust, latching onto the curve of Yoongi’s ass, the sheen of both sweat and slick veiling his pretty skin. “I just—your hand, fuck, too good.”

Jimin lets go at that and Jungkook properly whines, frown set deep between his thick eyebrows as he watches his aching cock twitch from the lack of touch. He wants to beg, but Jimin’s already one step away.

“Go on, then.” Jimin’s smirking, motioning towards the stage.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook pulls his underwear down his legs and then peels his damp body off the chair, weak legs dragging him forward, where Yoongi’s waiting for him, ass on show. His hands ache, settling on either cheek as he spreads him apart. He’s lost in the moment, swimming in this warm buzz carrying through his veins, kneeling behind Yoongi. His fingers reach to his shirt and he unbuttons it hastily, throws it without care to the side. It’s too fucking hot in this room.

“Fuck.” Jungkook keeps staring for a moment, admires the pretty ring of muscle, rubbing his thumb against the edge. He inhales sharply when a gush of slick trickles on his finger, Yoongi’s mewls echoing loudly inside his head. It’s fucking surreal, and he’s beyond amazed, processing it all slowly, how there’s an actual hybrid leaking slick on his hand right now.

And Jimin was right. There’s a hint of sweetness. Jungkook licks his lips and leans forward, pushing his tongue out.

Yoongi’s reaction is immediate, and it sparks the reaction Jungkook witnessed so many times on his laptop’s screen. More of that slick, and he just drowns in it, plunges his tongue in the sticky warmth.

He lets go, really lets go, grunting against Yoongi’s asshole as he licks him clean over and over again. Jungkook pushes his tongue in and pulls it out, rolls the tip around the rim and licks a fat stripe over it. Teasing and pulling the sweetest moans and groans out of Yoongi. Yoongi’s squirming, tail tense and straight, curling just at the tip and Jungkook has to grab it, has to tug on it a little.

Yoongi yelps and his ass clenches, another gush of slick seeping out.

Oh.

“His tail is very sensitive,” Jimin says behind him. Jungkook looks back, notices that he’s holding onto a bunch of blankets.

“What’s—“ he clears his throat, “that?”

“Blankets,” Jimin chuckles, stating the obvious. “Let’s make this a bit more comfortable.”

“Where'd you find those?” Jungkook asks, lips shining with slick.

“Not the first time Yoongi and I fuck here. We’ve got a stash.” Jimin stares at them, raises his eyebrows. “Up, you two.”

Jungkook’s a little dazed as Jimin places the covers, wiping the stickiness off his face with the back of his hand.

When Jimin finishes, he leaves again. He sits down where Jungkook was sitting earlier, crossing his arms over his chest. Jungkook cocks his head to the side. Is he not going to participate?

“Go on, now.”

There are fingers curling around his arm, and when Jungkook turns around, he meets Yoongi’s face. His skin glows in the moonlight, and he looks unreal like this, up close and yet flawless, dark eyes latching onto his.

Yoongi pulls him into a kiss, and it’s nothing delicate or soft. It’s sloppy, sticky with spit and slick. Jungkook moans into Yoongi’s mouth, Yoongi’s moaning and breathing hot in his mouth and Jungkook swallows it down, chases after all of it, hands touching every inch of his impossibly soft skin. Chest, arms, stomach, hips, it’s all like silk, Jungkook wants to touch it all, wants to taste it all.

His hands slide down Yoongi’s back, large hands cupping his ass fully, digging into the soft flesh. Jungkook grunts, pulling Yoongi closer with the hold, hard cocks pressing against one another. He feels Yoongi’s tail brush against his arm and a strong shiver courses through his body.

His gaze drops down at the little space between them, and it’s only then that he realizes Yoongi’s cock is actually big, longer than his, and Jungkook’s mouth waters at the sight.

Without thinking, Jungkook drops to his knees, hastily wraps his lips around the stiff head. Yoongi hisses, long fingers clenching hard around handfuls of Jungkook’s dark locks. It’s big for Jungkook’s small mouth, but his hand wraps nice and tight around it, and he gives a few good tugs, loves the breathy sounds it pulls out of Yoongi.

“Fuck, Mr. Jeon—”

“Taste so good, kitty,” Jungkook mumbles before licking the tip. Yoongi’s hold tightens at that, hips pushing forward a little. Jungkook’s not the best at this, and he chokes easily, pulling his head back to breathe. “Cock’s big—“ Jungkook also knows he’s not the best at dirty talk, usually evades it, but right now he wants it nasty, wants it fucking dirty, and he just lets whatever crosses his mind roll off his tongue. “Want it inside me.”

“Oh?”

The sound came both from Yoongi and Jimin.

“You want me to fuck you?” Yoongi says, voice low, sweat-pearled chest heaving with every deep breath. He’s stroking Jungkook’s forehead, brushing the hair up with his thumb.

Jungkook just nods. He doesn’t know why, but he feels a little embarrassed, cheeks hot.

“Plot twist.” And that comes from Jimin on the side.

Jungkook turns to glare at him, but it’s quite the opposite that happens. His eyes widen when he takes in the sight of Jimin sitting on the chair, bottom half naked and spread, strong thighs clenched, cock in hand. Jungkook’s head feels light, and he stares at every little bit of him, as if he didn’t see it clearly enough this morning. All that scruff and muscle, the staggering lines of his legs and hips. Set so deep, like he’s sculpted.

Shit. Jungkook wants to choke on his dick, wants his nose to brush against that dark hair.

“Yeah, I want you to fuck me. Both of you.”

“At the same time?” Jimin asks, languid in the way he strokes himself. There’s something glinting in his eyes, dark and burning.

Jungkook chokes on air, body flaring with the mental image he gets. “Well, shit, I mean, maybe—just want you both inside me. One at a time… for now.” And then he looks up at Yoongi, swallows the embarrassment and whatever else that’s clogging his throat, “and I want to fuck you.”

“Damn, baby,” Yoongi smirks, caressing Jungkook’s eyebrow with the pad of his thumb. “You want a lot of things, huh?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Jungkook springs up, presses his body against Yoongi. He curls his fingers around Yoongi’s wrist and guides his hand behind him. “What are you—“

“Get your fingers wet,” Jungkook whispers against his lips. Yoongi nods and holds onto his gaze, steady. Jungkook follows his movement with his hand, presses down on Yoongi’s knuckles so he slips deeper inside of himself. Yoongi moans softly, head tilting up and Jungkook licks his pretty lips bitten red.

And after a couple of thrusts, Jungkook pulls Yoongi’s hand away. He seems to catch on, hand moving on his own without Jungkook having to guide it, hovering behind him until the tips tease his asscheeks. Jungkook inhales sharply when Yoongi slides them between, wet fingers just barely grazing against his entrance.

“Did you…” Yoongi starts, quirking an eyebrow. Jungkook nods, short of breath as one finger easily slips inside of him. God, it’s so long, and Jungkook’s legs feel weak.

“Was hoping it’d turn out—fuck—like this,“ he grunts when Yoongi tentatively presses a second finger against the rim, pushing his hips forward. The rub of his cock on Yoongi’s is beyond staggering with two digits opening him up, deep inside his ass, two long and thin fingers that clearly know what they’re doing.

“Did you, now?”

Jungkook whines and lets his head fall on Yoongi’s shoulder, entire body tensing up as he picks up a quicker rhythm. Yoongi’s fingering him properly, and Jungkook’s weak, so fucking weak, he’s been wanting this for who knows how long.

And his hands also wander lower, fingers exploring the warm and wet spot between Yoongi’s soft asscheeks, teasing at the hole. Yoongi’s fingers stop inside of him, shaky breaths crossing his lips as Jungkook pushes two fingers in, easy with the slide of slick. The angle’s weird, and Jungkook’s eager, so one of his hands pulls Yoongi’s leg up and around his hip.

Then it’s all good, he can fuck deeper, and he opens his legs up, pushes his ass out so Yoongi has better access too, and it’s so fucking hot. All desperate, clingy hands and the slide of sweaty skin against skin, grunts and moans filling the heated space they’re swimming in. Both of them just fingering each other like that, for Jimin to watch.

Fuck.

That’s neither of them, the sound a little further, and Jungkook wants to look, but he’s lost in the feeling of those fingers pushing inside of him, on the limits of rough, of the tight muscle clenching around his own, so wet and hot, of the dry rub of their cocks together—

He doesn’t have to look, because next thing he knows, Jimin’s stepping right in his field of view.

There’s a pull against is hand, fingers slipping out with a loud squelch. It all happens too quickly for his disoriented mind, but Yoongi’s moaning so loud next to his ear, and Jimin’s hand is tight around his wrist, bringing his hand up.

Jimin licks Jungkook’s slick-coated fingers, intense gaze holding onto Jungkook’s. There’s movement, Yoongi’s body jerking forward every second or so, and it takes a couple of seconds for Jungkook to realize Jimin’s fucking him.

“Oh fuck—“ Jimin’s sucking on his fingers nice and hard, plump lips wrapped around them and Jungkook's overwhelmed by too many things at once, head floating in the fucking clouds.

“Jimin, for fuck’s sake,” Yoongi grunts, head thrown back on the man’s shoulder. His fingers slip out of Jungkook and he would whine about it, but he’s too entranced by what’s going on in front of him, by Yoongi fucking losing it as Jimin fucks him slow but hard, pulling out haltingly and slamming back in. “Fuck, fuck—“

Jimin pulls off of Jungkook’s now spit-coated fingers. “Jungkook, go in.”

He blinks. “What do you mean, go in—”

“Fuck him. He can take it.”

“I—how? Already?”

“Yeah, already. First, condom. Some right there.” He points with his chin at a small pile on the floor next to them, and Jungkook reaches for one with shaky hands. He hastily rips it open and rolls it down his length, pumps himself a couple of times to make sure it’s secured. “And then—”

In one swift movement, Jimin picks Yoongi up, all muscles clenched and firm and fuck he’s so strong. Jungkook stares in awe, gaze flicking down to Yoongi’s stretched out legs, his heavy cock leaking precome, his hole full of Jimin’s dick.

“Help me, will you?”

Jungkook moves mechanically, presses his body against Yoongi’s as his hard cock catches on Jimin’s, the slight graze bleeding warmth right into his groin. His mind’s a bewildered mess, he can feel the slick still leaking out of Yoongi, trickling down both his and Jimin’s lengths. There’s just so much of it, and Jungkook never really thought it’d be like this, just this constant flow, so ready to be fucked and filled.

And Jungkook doesn’t think, not with Jimin’s stare turning his blood into molten lava, not with the pleas hanging off Yoongi’s tongue. He lets his hands skim along the inside of Yoongi’s tainted thighs, anchoring right below Jimin’s, and pushes his cock in.

The feeling is beyond anything he’s ever felt before, cock so wet and warm, so tight inside Yoongi’s ass and pressing against Jimin’s firm cock. Every inch he pushes in makes him wants to whine, but any trace of air just hisses through his clenched teeth.

“I’m gonna, fucking—fuck—gonna break,” Yoongi curses, eyebrows furrowed deep, hand reaching back to clutch onto Jimin’s disheveled hair. The man’s biting down on his shoulder, so hard the skin turns red, and Jungkook almost loses it when he realizes Jimin has fangs.

Fucking fangs. How didn’t he notice those before?

Jimin picks up a rhythm, and Jungkook tries to follow even though his entire body is shaking. Yoongi yelps and moves with a particularly hard thrust, flops over to Jungkook’s shoulder instead, fingers digging down in his burning shoulders. Like he’s holding onto dear life as both of them just fuck up into him incessantly, a constant rhythm that has him groaning loudly right in Jungkook’s ear.

And then Jungkook’s licking over the mark left on Yoongi’s shoulder, he can feel the ridges of Jimin’s teeth and fangs in the skin. He sucks a bruise right beside it, holds onto Jimin’s heady stare even though just the sight of him sends his mind into frenzy.

Jimin is too hot to be fucking real, all tense muscle and sweet-sheened skin, jaw clenched and tongue poking out to lick his full lips. His hips roll like they were made to do so, slow thrusts turning into sharp hits, from torturous to merciless and back to gentle in seconds. Jungkook can only wonder what it’s like to be fucked like that. He hopes he’ll find out soon.

Jimin’s hand travels up Yoongi’s spine until it meets his hair, and there he grabs a handful of it, pulling just enough for Jungkook to see his face.

“Let’s switch it up,” he drawls, slowing down, “said you wanted to get fucked by him, hm?”

Jungkook eagerly nods, and Yoongi’s just blinking slowly, clearly taking a breather when the torture of both cocks comes to a halt inside of him. The stretch has to be fucking glorious, it translates easily within Yoongi’s face, all blissed out and numb. Jungkook can only imagine.

“Up,” Jimin commands, and Jungkook follows.

One shift and he’s off their dicks, slick trickling down on them. “Fucking hell, what a way to start,” Yoongi chuckles as he shakes his head, settling back on his trembling legs with both their help.

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy being stretched out by two cocks right off the bat,” Jimin teases, smacks his ass.

Yoongi glares at him, but it quickly turns into a smirk. And then he’s turning towards Jungkook, gentle hands caressing his damp chest, thumb just catching onto his nipple. Jungkook squirms, tries not to look too overwhelmed even though just that has him stifling whines.

“How do you wanna do this, baby? Wanna ride me? Doggy?”

“Could we start with, uhm, the basic? Just to get me… started… you know?”

Yoongi cocks his head to the side, smiles sweetly. “Are you still embarrassed, Jungkook?”

He lets out a dry laugh and looks away, but then there are fingers pulling his chin forward, and he has to follow. Yoongi looks too good up close, flawless skin and pretty eyes, and the gentle caress on his face in no way calms down the racing beat of his heart. “Well, kinda…”

“It’s adorable,” Yoongi coos, fingers pushing on his chest. “Come on, lay down.”

Jimin just stands to the side as Jungkook kneels on the ground, lays on his back, swallowing hard when Yoongi places himself between his legs. As much as Yoongi’s ass felt like heaven, as beautiful as he was unraveling on top of his dick like that, Jungkook much prefers seeing him there, hovering over him. He looks even broader like this, and Jungkook’s hands can’t help but trace the faint line of his chest, squeeze the muscle in his shoulders. His hands itch to just touch and touch.

“Comfy?” Yoongi asks, propping Jungkook’s head up on a bundled blanket. Before straightening, he leaves a faint kiss on his neck, then one on his collarbone.

Jungkook shudders a breath out. “Yeah.”

“Alright, lemme get a condom on.”

Jimin hands him one before joining them on the floor, sitting not too far. If Jungkook stretched far enough, he could probably graze his fingertips against his calf.

He openly watches as Yoongi rolls the condom down his long, veiny cock, legs unconsciously clenching when he shifts a little closer, one hand naturally going behind Jungkook’s thigh to push it back.

“Wanna stretch a little for me?”

Jungkook nods, swallows down the embarrassment. There was always something about being watched like that, someone staring at his ass before fucking into it. Made him hot in the cheeks. He spreads his legs a little more, brings them up, heat flaring in his chest.

“That’s good, yeah,” Yoongi whispers, gaze still latching onto Jungkook’s hole, eyelids drooping. He teases it a bit with his fingers, makes Jungkook seize up and bite his lip hard.

“Stretch him out for me, hm?” Jimin says to the side, smirking.

“Yes, sir.”

Right after that, there’s a slight stretch, and Jungkook’s eyes are already rolling back. His fingers dig in his own thighs as he pulls them farther, properly spreading his legs open, any trace of embarrassment dissipating into thin air with the slow burn opening him up. The drag is so unbelievably slow, and thank god because Yoongi’s cock is big inside of him, no matter how much he prepped himself beforehand, no matter the fingers that teased him earlier.

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses, dropping down to cage Jungkook between his arms, lips exploring the crook of his neck.

Jungkook moans out loud now, doesn’t hold anything back as Yoongi’s cock finally bottoms out, long and pulsing deep inside. He halts when hips meet ass, lets Jungkook get used to it, nibbling at the thin skin under his ear.

“Good?”

Jungkook nods. He can’t talk right now.

It’s all slow and drawled-out at first, so controlled, covers Jungkook’s body in gooseflesh and sweat. His arms wrap around Yoongi’s neck, pulling his head close until their noses are just brushing, latching onto the other’s gaze. They stay like that for a bit, lips parted and exchanging air in the little space between them, just giving in to the delicious drag of Yoongi’s cock, the other’s warm presence and nothing else. Skin against skin, just that.

Jungkook clenches and Yoongi’s hips snap back in response, forces a yelp out of his throat. Then it’s faster, a little harder, and Jungkook’s all numb yet full of feeling, entire body tense and burning up under Yoongi’s weight.

“Harder.”

Both their heads snap to the side, looking back at Jimin. He’s leaning back on his hands, cock softer, resting on his thick thigh. Just watching.

“Come on,” he insists, and Yoongi’s reaction is immediate.

One sharp thrust sends Jungkook’s mind into pure tumult, hitting particularly deep. He clenches again, unconsciously, and Yoongi’s kind of losing it, biting at Jungkook’s neck, sharp teeth breaking the skin. Jungkook scratches down Yoongi’s back, reaches to cup his ass and pull him closer with every thrust, wants to feel his cock as far as it can possibly go.

Yoongi catches Jungkook’s bottom lip between his own, sucks on it for a bit as his thrusts slow down. They’re both breathing heavily, the air around them thick and hot, sweat trickling down Yoongi’s forehead and neck, landing on Jungkook’s shining chest.

“Yoongi, push yourself up a bit.”

He does, holds himself up on his arms as Jimin scoots closer. “Go on.”

The view is absolutely stunning, Yoongi’s body wet and clenched, chest flushed with a pretty shade of pink. Jungkook wants to reach up and lick the sweat off, but Jimin’s moving closer and closer, up until his lips are just over Jungkook’s arm.

He blinks at him for a second before Jimin’s tongue pokes out, before it licks along the veins in Jungkook’s bulging bicep. Jungkook shudders, but his attention is taken by something else, by the roll of Yoongi’s hips, the slide of his cock rubbing against just the right spot inside of him. He’s properly melting, gaze flicking between the two men incessantly, wanting to catch every little glimpse of them. It’s too much, two guys is too much, and yet it’s also just enough.

But then it’s hard not to look at Jimin, his plump lips ghosting over his nipple. Jungkook clenches, it gets him a hard thrust, and then he’s a mess of moans and whines as Jimin licks over the perked bud, sucks on it until it stings. One of Jungkook’s hands reaches for Jimin’s hair, grazing against the relaxed ears poking out. He caresses them a little, staring in awe at how they twitch against his touch, so soft and fluffy.

It’s still so unreal.

“Y’like them?” Jimin whispers against his skin, the warm air tickling his sensitive nipple.

“Yeah,” Jungkook swallows, traces along its edge. Only then does he notice that Yoongi’s barely fucking him anymore, kind of just staring at the two. “Wanna touch yours too.” Yoongi leans down a little, enough for Jungkook to reach out and also stroke his. He hums, a little drunk on the feeling, runs his thumb through the short hairs. “So soft.”

The moment is broken when Jimin suddenly plunges his teeth into Jungkook’s skin, pulling a sharp yelp out of him. Then Yoongi’s fucking him again and his mind’s a mess once more, the fog resurfacing in overwhelming waves, all that built up lust snapping back into place.

“Bet you thought about being marked a lot, huh?” Jimin teases, licking over the bite.

Jungkook winces, but he nods hastily, because he came to just the thought so many times before. “Fuck, yeah, a lot—”

“Can I bite you some more, then?” Jimin asks, though it’s obvious he knows the answer.

Jungkook swallows hard. “Please.”

His wish is granted, Jimin bites right next to the previous mark at the same time as Yoongi thrusts back in. The pain and pleasure mix into one overwhelmingly powerful hit of sensations, Jungkook’s entire body shuddering, clenching, too many things all at once. His fingers lose themselves in the two men’s locks, tugging on them just enough to ground himself, to feel like he’s still got some sort of control over his own body.

Jimin lets go of his skin after a couple more bruises, properly scattered over Jungkook’s chest. Looking down at it just heightens it all, how Jimin’s trace is embedded within his skin, will be for days to come. Maybe weeks. It’s overcoming, the fact that he’s actually marked, and it’s got his cock leaking, heavy drops collecting on his taut stomach.

Jimin moves up, demanding mouth finding Yoongi’s neck now, licking along its length. Jungkook just watches, blinking slowly.

“You close to coming, baby?” Jimin whispers in Yoongi's ear, loud enough for Jungkook to hear. Yoongi’s head falls down, a deep crease settled between his eyebrows. He nods, broken breaths parting his pretty pink lips. “Need a little help?”

Before he can even say anything, Jimin’s arm disappears behind Yoongi, and the man on top of him breaks down into a mess of low grunts and breathless whines. He fucks harder into Jungkook, a little unsteady, an erratic rhythm. But it’s good, so good nonetheless, his thrusts falling along the lines of desperate, just chasing after that release, stirred on by whatever Jimin’s doing behind him.

Then Jimin bites him hard. Right at the crook between his shoulder and neck. And Yoongi loses it.

One last hard thrust and he’s milking it out, a cascade of groans and moans rolling off his hanging tongue. Yoongi’s completely absent, entranced by all that pleasure crashing down, unfolding on top of him, shaking arms barely able to hold himself up anymore. And Jungkook can only marvel at the sight, palming across his stomach and up his chest, rubbing at the skin covered in little bumps.

“Jimin, fucking hell—”

When he’s back down from the high, he slips out of Jungkook. He takes a second to breathe, huffs out a couple of curses before snapping back to the real world. The emptiness makes Jungkook want to whine, but he’s distracted by another want, constantly just wanting more and more, tongue poking out to lick his lips. “C’mere,” he tells Yoongi, wrapping a hand around his waist to pull him closer.

“Hm?” Yoongi follows though he looks confused, straddles Jungkook’s torso until his cock is inches away from his face. “What are you thinking, baby?

Jimin’s just behind him, kissing over the fresh bruise on his neck. Yoongi stretches it a bit, gives him better access and exhales a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut.

They spring back open when Jimin moves. “Fuck—”

Jungkook pulls the condom off and throws it to the side, doesn’t think twice before lapping at the cum on the tip of Yoongi’s swollen cock. There’s a loud hiss and a strong grip in his hair, but he keeps going, even though the hold is trying to pull him back. He fights against it, keeps on sucking Yoongi’s cock clean because it’s obvious he’s very much so into it, because Jimin still has his fingers deep inside his ass. Jungkook can hear it all, the wet drag, the shifts and twists. Yoongi’s entire body is shaking, moans turning into whines

“Okay, fuck, stop, I need a damn break—”

“Good,” Jimin grunts, “‘cause I can’t fucking handle it anymore.”

And then next thing he knows, Yoongi’s off of him and he’s being flipped on his stomach. Jungkook’s cheek presses hard against the makeshift pillow under him, holding himself up on his elbows and knees. Heavy hands press down on the small of his back, and he arches it easily, pushes his ass out as much as he can. Yoongi didn’t go too far, one of his hands grazing over Jungkook’s spine, tracing around the nearby muscle. And that’s really good, because he needs them both right now, couldn’t deal with one having their hands off of him.

“Look at you,” Jimin groans, spreading his ass. Jungkook’s cheeks flush bright red, hands balling up into fists next to his face. “All stretched out for my cock. So fucking pretty.”

“Get to it, babe. I’m sure he’s just dying to come,” Yoongi purrs, stroking the hair at the nape of Jungkook’s neck. “You wanna come, baby? Wanna come with a dick in your ass?”

He nods, fingers clenching around the blanket underneath him. How are they so calm saying stuff like that, Jungkook feels like he’s about to have a heart attack with how fucking hot it sounds.

“With a knot up your ass?” Jimin corrects, and Jungkook’s heart stops for a solid second.

Not even a second to think, Jimin’s already pushing his cock in. It’s thicker, stretches him out even more, and Jungkook’s mouth falls open, breathing hard against damp fabric with the burn overcoming him once more, making every muscle in his body clench. He just takes it, bends his back farther, digs his face in the crook of his elbow. Giving in to nothing but the feeling, not only the stretch but Yoongi’s wandering hands, brushing against his chest, stomach, and ultimately wrapping around his cock.

He’s burning, wildfire spreading through his limbs, sweat pearling over every inch of his skin. Jungkook moans and mewls, finds himself short of breath when the base of Jimin’s cock presses hard against his ass. He can feel the hair at its base, his cock doesn’t hit as deep as Yoongi but with the angle he hits, it rubs right against his prostate when he drags it back out. Jungkook feels it all too well, every single inch sliding against his walls, makes him moan almost pitifully against the blanket under him.

A rough snap of hips and he’s biting the blanket instead, then the grip around his cock tightens and it’s nothing but a mess, a strong tremor coursing through his body. He’s already too close, beyond overwhelmed in all definitions of the term. It builds and builds, coils up in his groin and he lets these two men go at it, abdicates to their touch, the constant tease on his body until it breaks.

“So fucking tight,” Jimin groans, fingers digging in his ass so hard it’ll surely mark, “pretty ass sucks me right in.”

“He feels good, hm?” Yoongi comments to the side, and his hand just keeps teasing Jungkook’s leaking cock, the pad of his thumb circling around the swollen tip. Jungkook’s hips instinctively buck into the grasp, and Jimin follows with his movement, only makes it all the more intense. It climbs, reaches dangerous heights, too fast for him to register it all, choking in a mesmerizing way.

Jimin’s hands travel up, over Jungkook’s stomach until they’re high enough to pull him back. Jungkook helps even though he can barely think, pushes himself up to follow, wants to feel Jimin’s skin against his own. It’s so hot and wet, chest pressing on his back, and when he glances down to look at Yoongi’s long, pretty fingers working him up too nice to be true, Jimin’s hands also come into view, both rubbing over his sensitive nipples.

It’s almost instant. Jungkook’s entire body clenches as it hits him, as his climax ravages his mind. He moans, practically yells all of it out, body turning limp as he lets the men do it for him, pull every little bit of pleasure out of him, cock still buried deep in his ass as it courses through his entire body like molten lava, as Yoongi’s hand never quite quits, only takes until the last drop of cum trickles down his hand.

Jungkook falls back down, breathing heavy and broken, eyes fluttering shut as he drowns in all that post-orgasm drowsiness, tongue poking out to wet his dry lips. It’s indescribable, like he was just hit by a truck but in a very good way, entire body spent and mind swimming in a pool of pure euphoria.

And then he feels it. The swell.

“Wait, fuck—”

Jimin’s hands still on his ass. “You okay? Too much? Want me to pull out?”

Jungkook vigorously shakes his head, that’s the last thing he wants. “No, no, I just—fuck, holy shit—it’s actually happening—”

“First knot is always unbelievable,” Yoongi chuckles beside him, gently stroking his hair. “Tells us if it’s painful, hm?”

“No, it’s good,” Jungkook’s eyes roll back when it gets thicker, pushing right up against his sensitive prostate, “fuck it’s so fucking good.”

“Got ourselves a little knot slut huh?” Jimin groans, fingers digging down. “First time and he’s loving it.”

Jungkook reaches back to touch the base of Jimin’s cock in awe. He feels the swell under his fingertips, wishes he could see how much it’s stretching him out. “Fuck, holy shit—my ass, actually knotted, fuck—so thick, so big, Jimin—”

Jimin hisses, spreading Jungkook’s ass, brushing his thumb against the stretched ring of muscle. Jungkook’s panting against the blankets, damp bangs poking his eyes but he doesn’t care, couldn’t care less with the delicious burn in between his legs, with the indescribable feeling overcoming his body and mind. Jimin’s thick knot is pulsing inside of him, and it’s nothing like his knot dildos, not even the inflatable ones. It’s real and hot and locking them in place.

“Is it—shit—is it still growing?” Jungkook groans, head up in the clouds with the staggering stretch. He's drooling against the blanket, can barely keep his eyes open, focused on nothing but the growing swell inside his ass.

“Just a bit more,” Jimin says, voice even lower. It sounds like a growl and resonates deep in Jungkook’s groin.

“You’re doing good,” Yoongi whispers, brushing his bangs back. “So good.”

They stay like that for a bit, until his ass is stretched to its limit, Jimin’s hands massaging the small of his back, Yoongi leaving a trail of soft kisses down his shoulder and arm.

“Still good?” Jimin checks, voice a little broken, too raspy to be fine. Jungkook wonders what he looks like right now, how affected he is to sound like that. Rough facade torn down to pure lust.

“Real fucking good,” Jungkook mutters back, nothing but feeling, swimming in the warm daze and the stretch in his ass. It’s just nothing like he’s ever felt before, way better than he would have thought, and the fact that he’s actually locked in place with Jimin know only makes it all the more intense. He wishes there was no condom, wishes he could’ve been filled and plugged with cum, but he doesn’t voice it out. Keeps the nasty for himself.

“Let’s lay down,” Yoongi suggests, sliding down on his side. “Who knows for how long you two are gonna be stuck like that.”

“Well, I could try to pull out—”

“Don’t you dare,” Jungkook snaps, twisting his neck to look back at him. And he was right, Jimin looks much different than earlier, hair a mess and eyebrows furrowed tight, strong body tense and covered in sweat. His once too-intense gaze now foggy, just staring down at his knot like it's the eighth wonder of the world. Jungkook almost forgets what he was going to say, lost in the sight of a disheveled and enthralled Jimin. “M’first knot, want it all.”

Jimin chuckles, raises his hands in defense. “Fine, fine.”

The change in positions is a little awkward, but they manage to lay down on their side, Jimin spooning Jungkook, strong arms wrapped around his waist. Jungkook is facing Yoongi, and the man slides closer until there’s barely any space between their heated bodies, wraps his leg around his hip. The room is silent save for the sounds of their soft breaths, the slight shifts of skin against fabric.

Jungkook just hums, exhausted but in a very blissful way, relinquishing in the warmth all around him, the two now very familiar bodies pressing against his own. He could stay like this forever, really wants to, with a thick knot in his ass and a pretty boy caressing his face.

“Will we be seeing you next class, Mr. Jeon?” Yoongi whispers, fingertips grazing across the line of his jaw, down his neck.

Jungkook nods slowly. No doubt about that. “Yeah, fuck—absolutely.”

He can feel Jimin smile against his shoulder. “We hoped you’d say that, Mr. Jeon.”