Work Header

Moth to Flame

Chapter Text

Feverish hands stroke against your back, grip your waist. They’re pushing you to the wall, pulling you deeper into the embrace of the firm body leaning over you. Of the man suckling at your mouth with incredibly soft lips. You recognize these sensations all at once—drunkenly almost, like you’d only just come to. The slick heat of his tongue on yours, tasting sickly sweet, the fine strands of hair you have clutched in your fist, tugging his head forward so needily. The smell of alcohol and sweat mixing with fresh night air. Through the fog of your mind, past the comparatively sharp awareness of your jeans being unbuttoned, you only vaguely remember why you’re here. The brick wall you’re being shoved into belongs to the club you were just inside, the music pulsating through your bones with every drop of the bass. That’s right, you affirm to yourself hazily, gasping as your partner grinds down on your thigh, drawing attention to the sizeable bulge in his pants. You agreed to go outside with a very handsome man while dancing. That’s where you are.

The few seconds he takes to pull away from your mouth and slide an eager hand down the front of your trousers gives you the chance to try and connect your scattered recollection with the present. God, you must have had more to drink tonight than you thought. Beautiful as this man is—dark cherry hair pushed up off his forehead and parted to the side, wide eyes like black glass that reflects the neon lights above you in a way eerily inhuman—you are immediately taken with the thought that this definitely is not the same person you followed outside. You can’t actually recall who you followed outside. It stops mattering when you feel long fingers slide across your clit with shocking precision through your panties, beckoning forward as his mouth reclaims purchase in the crook of your neck, sucking down with a scrape of his teeth. A high-pitched note leaves your throat, hips rising to match his strokes.

You must have been out here making out for longer than you realize, because it hardly takes any time for him to wind you up until you’re breathless, panting, body arching into the insistent pressure of his fingers weaving figure eights against your despairingly clothed core.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into the skin just beneath your jaw, pressing placating kisses there between words. You like his voice quite a lot, you decide, but not nearly as much as you’re enjoying his fingers. “I’ll make it quick.”

You giggle, confused but not any less horny as the sound turns into sighs and moans and you become caught up in chasing your bliss.

“I’ll try not to make it hurt.” He adds, groans, like he’s frustrated, and you feel his hardness on your leg again, rocking in time with your squirming.

He’s not making any sense, but you can’t care when you’re so close and the strange beautiful man is tickling your face with his hair, licking hot, tantalizing stripes across your flesh. He finally, god finally, slips past your panties into where you need his fingers, sliding home with a noise downright sinful in its wetness, earning a guttural moan from the both of you. Palm grinding against your swollen nub, he starts to forcibly seek out the spongy bundle of nerves from the inside like a man possessed. Pleasure swells behind your eyelids and you keen, humping his hand in heightened desperation as the pads of his fingertips pull forward inside you. You almost miss the growing pressure on your throat as it borders on painful, but it is nowhere near your list of priorities as your high blossoms and you’re nearly there--


Jungkook! Fuck!”

The head at your neck is wrenched away violently, accompanied by an animalistic growl torn from his throat and mirrored by the pathetic whine escaping your lips when the interruption means he stops finger-fucking your sopping center. You try to shudder upwards, try to garner some kind of friction, but his body above you prevents it.

Tae, not now, I’m—“ Your partner sounds as fucked-up as you are, exasperated and needy as he addresses the deeper voice.

“It’s Namjoon—we have to go!”

The shocked pause is nearly tangible in the air, even as your heavy breathing fills the space between the three of you. You manage to snag a peek at the intrusive man standing behind your partner when you roll your hips pointedly. Messy blonde hair reaching down his neck, blue eyes so dark and intense they might well be purple. Ah! You recognize those eyes, actually. He’s the one you left the club with. There he is. How did you end up with cherry boy?...


“Ah. No. Tomorrow. Yes, now.

“What about her?” His fingers twitch inside your throbbing cunt at what you think is your mention and you thrust towards it again, releasing his hair to tug at his arm with a breathless gasp. You wish your mouth wasn’t so difficult to operate right now or else you’d beg for your denied release, head lolling backwards, eyes threatening to spin in your head. Dimly, you think he’s still talking. “I haven’t even—we haven’t—I can’t just leave her like this.”

“Take her with, we can clean up after.”

He hesitates. “Jin won’t—“

“Jin won’t have to worry about a damn thing, but we have to get out of here. Jimin’s got the car already.”  


You nod your agreement, but almost cry out when his next act is to remove his hand from you entirely, fingertips trailing sticky arousal. You would try and complain, but suddenly your feet are no longer on the ground and the world tilts, centered around something strong and firm circled about your waist. Dizzy and unfocused, you consider vomit but you somehow manage to hang on. The universe seems to be moving around you, now, the beat of the club fading and replaced by the slap of shoes pounding concrete, something digging into your stomach as you bounce on top of it. An assessment of your new situation allows you to deduce that cherry must have thrown you up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and is currently hauling ass across the parking lot, weaving down alleyways at speeds that might be impressive if you weren’t so discombobulated.

Your compatriot slows his pace and you recognize the sound of tires on gravel. You suddenly notice that the streetlight above just barely illuminates his backside, revealing the delicious curvature previously hidden in shadows. Round, muscular, leading into a pair of thighs so temptingly thick you’re nearly lost in the thought of biting into them. You can’t resist raising your arm drunkenly and smacking his bottom, jaw dropping in awe when your hand bounces smartly away. Ass made of steel. The body underneath you groans, vibrating through your chest by way of his back.

“Just—you get in first,” he says to the other man, voice strangled. You rear back and slap his ass again, vindictive at your fading orgasm and spurred on by its apparent effect on him. An answering sharp pain explodes across your rear, currently hoisted up in the air, and you hiccup a surprised breath at the sensation. You squirm and huff piteously as heat replaces the sting, spreading down your legs straight to your forgotten core. “Cut that out. I’ll—shit—I guess we’ll just put her in the middle.”

You hear a car door click open and there’s another new voice, high-pitched and melodious, complaining from what you can discern is probably the front seat. Hopefully it’s another beautiful man. You seem to be hitting the jackpot on those.

“Ah, seriously, Jungkook, you aren’t really gonna bring that in the car—“

The deeper voiced blonde interrupts. “She’s wiped, it’s fine, she won’t run—“

Your world spins again, as you’re let down from cherry’s shoulder and parcelled into the backseat of a nice-smelling vehicle like a fragile package, another set of wide, tanned hands gently handling you as the first boy passes your limp body over. You’d apologize for not helping, but your body is not responding at the speeds necessary to be of any real assistance. You settle for smiling dazedly at the redhead.

“I’m not worried about her running, Tae, she smells—seriously, she smells so much, I can’t believe you—“

“Well, if I’d had time—“ Cherry is arguing with the driver as his frame takes up your vision, moving your legs so he can sit beside you, the blonde pulling your back to his chest. You’re glad they’re in the car with you, in the backseat, feeling a faint satisfaction when the younger one shuts the door. This means you can stop moving for a while, maybe even do something about the wet throbbing between your legs. “I didn’t get to—“

“—even expect me to be able to fucking concentrate with that in the backseat—“

“Drive.” When the blonde speaks again, above their bickering, you can feel it more than hear it. The vibration is weirdly comforting. Absently, you shift to press more of you towards him, nearly missing the warm exhale that tickles your ear when you do.

“—even have a taste, it’s not fair to—“


“There’s a whole club full of them--”

“—oh, yeah, no, let’s just leave her there brainless and so fucking wet, I’m sure that would go swimmingly—“

Jimin he’s in, for fuck’s sake, drive.”

The car shudders into motion, the newer voice becoming a grumbling under his breath as it pulls away. You cast a look over at the person in the driver’s seat and are pleasantly surprised to find it is indeed another attractive man, with wide, dark eyes and dirty blonde hair, who glances at you while he reverses. His tongue slips out to wet plush lips, turning forcefully away like someone abstaining from a cardinal sin.

There’s hair sweeping against your cheek, and you move your head automatically to allow the lips at your neck to resume their path downwards unhindered, purring your contentment.

“We’ll take care of it before Jin even gets home,” the blonde behind you reassures absentmindedly, the depth of his voice sending chills down your spine as his mouth brushes your skin with every word. “JK gets his present, I’ll clean up after—it’ll all work out.”

“Wait a minute. This was the ‘surprise’, Taehyung, are you kidding me?”

“It’s his birthday. I didn’t see you getting him anything.”

“No, Tae, you’re right, I didn’t sneak past our borders for a birthday gift. How fucking silly of me.” The driver’s voice gets noticeably more pouty and whiny as he complains.

“Namjoon shouldn’t have been out tonight anyways, everything else went perfectly and it won’t even be a problem so long as you just keep driving.”

“If Namjoon or Jin finds out, it’s your ass, okay? I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Movement catches your attention, distracting from the confusing argument. The redhead to your front is scooting hesitantly forward, a hand alighting gently on your thigh, dark eyes searching yours for any sign of resistance. He doesn’t find it. Immediately, you’re spreading that leg further into his palm, hoping beyond all hope that being in the car and not moving means you can resume where you left off.

“She’s so sweet. So soft,” he murmurs. “You really did a good job with this one, Tae.”
“My best work.” The mouth at your neck opens further, pressing a wide kiss to your skin. You mewl, shuddering at the hot wetness of his tongue lapping at you. “It’s too bad you didn’t really get anywhere with her before we had to leave.”

The man in front of you licks his lips, as though nervous, gaze roaming down your body like someone starved. “Yet.” He corrects huskily.

“Yet.” His companion echoes, his eagerness turning the tone into a question.

“Not in the car.” The voice from the front seems exasperated but warning, and increasingly far-away as cherry advances further, his breath warming your cheek and his hand trailing up to the front of your jeans, which have been left undone. “Jungkook, no blood or spunk in the car. Jin will actually murder me.”

Another hand hurriedly, clumsily, joins his as it slides back into your panties, snaking around your midsection. Two sets of curious fingers sample the wetness between your thighs, slipping across each other as they stroke past your folds, and two throats echo your whimper with deep groans.

Fuck she’s soaked,” is exhaled into your hair with a rich baritone that makes you shiver.

The redhead leans closer, and you seek out his lips with yours, your back curving towards the blonde who takes to peppering sweet kisses and kitten licks up and down as much of your spine as he can reach. He trails teasing paths through your heat, circling his partner’s fingers, teasing at your entrance. The familiar taste of cherry’s tongue, the firmness of his fingers massaging your clit again, has you whining into his mouth, one hand seeking stability by clutching the arm behind you and the other wrapped around the arm in front of you, seeking, wordlessly begging, for him to allow you to cum this time.

“Just a taste.” His dark eyes have closed, as if it’s too painful to look at you, nuzzling against your mouth and jawline while you kiss what you can reach with sloppy lips. His breath is heavy when he grunts quietly under his breath, shuddering. “I’m so fucking hungry.”

“Jungkook.” The driver’s warning is sharp, but ignored.

“Ah, she smells so good. She has to taste amazing. You’ll share, won’t you? Kookie?” Wandering fingers slide easily to your entrance and press inside, filling you again with one luxurious push, as cherry continues to rub your clit. The blonde’s other hand is pulling your leg wider so that the man in front of you can move even closer, sandwiching his hand between your bodies. The hand on your leg sneaks up past your shirt hem to grab at a breast. He’s pinching and rolling at the nipple so precisely underneath your bra as you gasp and sigh, your torso wriggling in time with the spikes of delicious pleasure. “Just a little bit? Just before you have the rest?”

“Both of you knock it off.”

It’s so wet and so hot, so slick. Teeth at your shoulder and jaw, tongues scalding paths across your flesh as you gyrate helplessly between a hand that fucks you lazily upwards and another that strokes against your sensitive button almost too firmly like he intends to break you. Murmurs and groans flood your ears, along with the lewd noises of your eager sex and you are just breaching the first waves of pleasure once more, stars coiling behind your eyes, obeying hushed, breathless encouragement.

For the second time this evening, the redheaded boy is forcibly pulled away from you, even as he growls in protest and you sob. You look up to meet the eyes of the driver as he leans over the seat and you dimly realize the car has stopped moving. You hadn’t even noticed. He’s grabbed the front of the boy’s shirt, the handful of the fabric holding him back with obvious strength in his veined hands.  


The man scowls, even as his nostrils flare, obviously trying to keep his gaze from roaming. Under his judgmental scrutiny, you roll helplessly towards the fingers still inside you, still pumping into you at their cruel, steady pace, enough to keep you here but not enough to bring you home. The pink of his tongue makes another appearance as he licks his lips again, distracting you with sudden thoughts of how soft they must be and how good they’d feel against your skin.


His eyebrows raise. He nods slowly, pointedly and you copy the motion, utterly bewitched by the roadside lights sparkling in his eyes. They’re claiming your vision, swirling and pulling you down, down with him. Your grip on the men either side of you loosens as you follow his voice somewhere far from here. Oddly, the sensation is somewhat familiar.

“Jimin, come on,” the deep voice behind you pleads quietly, echoing in your ears. “You don’t have to—“

“We’ll be good—“ Cherry adds with a whine. His voice seems to be coming to you from the stars; so distant and so glittery. He continues, but you can’t decipher it. It’s like background music and you can’t pick apart the notes of it.

“Sleep.” The driver repeats, ignoring them. You blink. Once. Twice. The pleasure fades and simmers out in an instant, replaced by a warm sensation like being covered by a heavy blanket. The world above you wavers and coils in on itself.

And then, you obey.