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Shotaro is an all-around positive thinker, so he’s a no-go for this kind of situation. If Anton does X sets of warm-ups, then choreo, then freestyle, he’ll be magically depussified by dinnertime and no later. Nothing bad can happen if you’re performing, not ever. This is the gospel truth. Wonbin is too much of a hypochondriac and will confidently say that spontaneous genital reconfiguration is a symptom of an awful disease Anton’s never heard of and he’ll be dead within five to ten minutes. Sohee is a pragmatist, so not an awful option, but he’s Sohee, ungenerous and loud-mouthed. If Anton wants the entire hotel to know about what’s in his pants, Sohee is his guy.
His manager-hyungs aren’t around and WebMD is hopeless and the idea of calling anyone from back home is awful: I know I’m famous and I haven’t called in months but what we really need to catch up on more than anything is the state of affairs between my thighs. It’s basically a border skirmish. Please send medical advice and don’t ask for Park Wonbin’s number, he’s totally asexual and actually considering moonlighting as a monk. Also, he’s taken by numerous erotic passions: the thrum of a guitar string, the rub of leather pants, the carnal ache of hunger.
So it’s not a matter of choice, of picking a favourite hyung, but rather desperation. Eunseok is always there. He’s there when Anton wakes up with a creeping sense of absence, cradling his dongsaeng and acting like a mild-to-severe pervert from the beginning, and he watches half-asleep as Anton shoves one hand down his boxers to confirm his suspicions.
“Don’t look, though,” Anton says.
The bathroom light is too clinical and Eunseok is too impersonal, nerdily red-flagged and always laughing at the wrong moment, for Anton to calm down completely. He nervously squeezes his core as Eunseok sits on the edge of the bathtub rubbing his own knees back and forth, waiting for something.
“So you want me to look without looking?”
Anton nods. “Exactly.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Eunseok says. Anton hooks a thumb in-between his sharp hip and his underwear. “Come on. It’s not a big deal, is it?”
“Says you. You’ve still got your…” He glances down at Eunseok’s pyjamas. “...Look for a second, just a second, and tell me that I’m not dreaming.”
He drops his boxers to the floor, collapsing at bony ankles and a nick from shaving.
“You’re not dreaming,” Eunseok says.
“Then what do I do?” he asks, scrambling to lift up his boxers again. “I mean, can I go to the hospital about this? Can it wait until we get back to Korea? Or maybe I should go to the pharmacy and see if they have any pills, or…”
Eunseok shrugs. “It happened to Wonbin.”
“What?!” Wonbin with a magically occurring pussy is about as stupid as Anton having one — pretty, elusive Wonbin-hyung, always appearing in somebody’s fantasy. It’s dumb for a different reason but Anton can’t figure out how. “Nobody ever told me. I’m twenty, and I did Sex Ed, but you’re always keeping these secrets from me. I can’t stand it.”
“You can’t even say the word dick.”
“I obviously can.”
“Say it, then.”
“This is beneath my intellect,” Anton insists. “Anyway, what did he do?”
“Nice answer or real answer?”
“Is the nice answer true as well?”
Eunseok stands up and rubs Anton’s head like a puppy. “Both answers involve Sungchan.”
“Tell me the truth, hyung.”
“Sungchan says, ‘Pussy be gone,’ waves his magic wand, and suddenly Wonbin is bedicked again.” Eunseok brushes a strand of hair behind Anton’s ear. “Or maybe we took turns with him, nice and slow —”
“Oh my God, shut up!”
“Chanyoungie, I promise it’s no big deal. And we don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” he said. “It can just be me if you like, but Sungchan likes to take care of people. Unfortunately that’s his whole feed-the-world-hold-hands-and-sing-Good-Samaritan shtick, but really I think it’s because he’s worse than me. Whatever. He’s a good witch.”
“Is that really it?” Anton asks, voice quiet. “Because I always promised myself I’d — with somebody intellectually stimulating.”
“I can remember the names of all the LoL champions.”
The bathroom tiles don’t budge to swallow Anton up and no matter how many times Eunseok manhandles him, he doesn’t wake up. Eunseok smiles unevenly. It could always be a fever dream.
It’s not as if Anton has never shared a bed before, understood its unspoken rules of limb-tangling and maintaining bodily autonomy in the midst of clingy hyungs, but considering Eunseok’s tendency to cling onto him like a koala and not let go, he can’t maintain these boundaries very well. It’s the sweatiest part of being an idol, worse than hours of dance practices where he’s the only one left lagging behind, to be overwhelmed by somebody else’s body heat and random pokes from unidentified appendages. Eunseok calls off their trip out to get frozen yoghurt, much to Anton’s chagrin — what, can boys with pussies no longer eat froyo? But the point is moot. Eunseok will say he’s doing this for Anton’s benefit regardless, including switching on the TV and making Anton suffer through countless episodes of Arcane to 'take his mind off things' before Sungchan finally shows up from the gym. He’s sticky all over and his hair is all over the place, artfully messy.
“This show sucks,” Anton says, grabbing the remote and turning the screen off with obvious relief.
“Why are you making him watch this, Eunseok?”
“I don’t know. It’s good. And what else is there on Netflix, anyway?”
“Lots of stuff,” Anton says.
Sungchan dumps his gym bag on the floor. “You said Wonbin’s hair caught on fire. Where is he?”
“Getting froyo with Shotaro and Sohee.”
“With his hair not on fire?”
Eunseok grins cheekily. “It was code.”
“Code for what?” Sungchan turns his head to the side. “What? Is this some kind of weird MZ prank? I’m sorry I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy, but…”
“You know. Code Pink.”
Anton covers his face in embarrassment. There’s no way. There’s absolutely no way. He’s losing his virginity and his dick’s on vacation and his two hyungs, handsome as they are, are talking about him like he’s not even there.
“...Uh-huh.” Sungchan looks round-cheeked and innocent. “And what’s that?”
“Code You-Know-What. Code Lady. Code Princess. Code Park Wonbin. Code —” Eunseok rolls his eyes. “OK, if you’re going to act dumb about it, I’ll screw Chanyoung myself.”
“Hey,” Anton says, pushing Eunseok off. “This is a group project.”
“Eunseok, that’s not cool at all,” Sungchan says. “Chanyoung is right. A group project. Because we’re a team.” He sits on the edge of the bed and touches Anton’s sensitive foot. “Well, when did it happen? Did it hurt?"
“No,” Anton says, “And this morning; it was just there.”
“Your feet are so soft,” Sungchan says. Whatever he’s doing, laying it on thick, appears to Anton as a strange method against Eunseok’s more brusque attempts at seduction. The immediate skinship, the constant contact, the odd voice he puts on — has he done this before? It feels familiar but Anton chooses to let that thought go die somewhere else. “I would’ve come quicker if I had known.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Anton says quickly.
“I can get Eunseok to leave.”
“I didn’t have to tell you anything,” Eunseok replies.
“Say the word and he’s gone, Chanyoungie.”
“Same for Sungchan,” Eunseok says, touching Anton’s face. He pressed a small kiss to Anton’s jaw.
“OK,” Anton says robotically. “Maybe…You both…Should be here. For moral support or, you know, stuff.”
“Got it,” Sungchan says, running a finger up Anton’s athletic shin. “Stuff.”
Between the two of them, Anton figures at least one will give him what he needs — not sex, but to be treated well, to be considered attentively. Eunseok’s greasy but might be the only hyung who has breached their homoerotic containment and screwed around with everyone, male and female, in the outside world. Sungchan’s sweet, very practiced and measured, with an impulse to protect and serve. He’s a true soldier, a good and loyal countryman, with nice arms. Anton’s legs get all jittery because he’s been stroked from both sides, Eunseok’s hand on his right thigh and Sungchan massaging his left leg.
Soon Anton reaches boiling point and lets Eunseok kiss him, wet and with more teeth than probably necessary. It never occurs to Anton that bravado and the mirage of confidence get you a lot further than people think. Sungchan draws up close and kisses the side of Anton’s mouth, vying for space and annexing Anton’s tongue from Eunseok.
“OK,” Anton says. Sungchan faces him from the left and Eunseok from the right. “OK, that was nice. Am I cured now?”
“Uh,” Sungchan says.
“Don’t you want to at least cum?” Eunseok asks.
Anton doesn’t think he can get any hotter. “I don’t know if I can,” he says. “Isn’t it difficult for girls to…You know…” Eunseok’s hand flutters over his stomach, across the worn fabric of his briefs. “...Hm.”
“No,” Sungchan says. “It’s very easy to make you cum...Chanyoungie’s a girl now?”
“Shut up. I mean. No, but.”
Eunseok’s thumb is — there, where the pulse feels a lot different than usual. A more central pulse, connected to the nerves in his stomach, all over the place, livewire, the raw tangle of it. Beneath his old t-shirt, his underwear, there is something new, untouched. Not that much of the old stuff was touched either. Does it take this to be liked? To change something hardwired into his DNA? Eunseok’s thumb feels very nice, hard but not oppressive.
“No, Chanyoung’s not a girl,” Eunseok says.
“He looks a bit like Chaeryeong-sunbaenim.”
“Oh,” Eunseok says, sliding his hand up the loose leg of Chanyoung’s boxers, still looking at Sungchan. “I kind of see it?” He glances at Chanyoung, then back again, fingers stroking Chanyoung’s thigh. “Mm, yeah.”
“Do you want to wear make-up?” Sungchan asks.
“I do wear makeup,” Anton says. “Don’t be stupid, hyung, it doesn’t suit you.”
“Cute,” Eunseok says.
“So cute,” Sungchan agrees.
Eunseok’s hand gets too close, too intimate, and Anton’s stomach wrenches back and forth. He doubles over at the mere impression of Eunseok’s forefinger on his — whatever part that is. Labia, maybe. The hair there is light and feathery. “Ah,” Anton says, chewing his lip, “that’s so —”
Sungchan snakes his hand up the other leg, touching Eunseok’s hand.
“Oh my God,” Anton says, bright red. “Why are you both — oh — be careful.”
Eunseok licks the shell of Anton’s ear. His hair smells clean and his skin is very fresh, but nevertheless he’s got this sheen about him. Sungchan licks the other ear, kisses down his jaw, until their lips meet. Their hands are both there, beneath his underwear, and suddenly he realises how sticky it is down there from the noise of it. He thinks it’s Sungchan’s index finger that spreads him apart and gives the faintest warning of pressure before he says, “Is it OK, Chanyoungie?”
“Yeah,” Anton says, nodding. Never had a handjob, let alone anything more, but Sungchan is there, fingering him, gentle and non-presumptive. The sensation is a little rough and unpleasant, but then Eunseok’s thumb is going elsewhere, above Sungchan’s large palm, to manipulate a small spot that feels like he’s grabbing a nerve and tugging it, its pleasant electric sting.
“Feels nice,” Sungchan says, “inside.”
“Hm?” Anton says, body cold and hot.
“I actually figured it out this time,” Eunseok says to Sungchan. He manipulates that spot again and this time Anton’s mewling like a cat. “Will you show me it again, Anton?”
“Ah…In a second, in a bit,” Anton says, breathing through his nose. “I like it now, it feels nice, both of you…Be patient with me.”
Sungchan sucks a shape into Anton’s neck. “We can be patient,” he says.
But eventually the fabric gets chafing and Anton’s as sick of it as anyone, so he throws the briefs across the room — and then he shuts his legs, clams up a little, because that’s what feels the most natural. He can’t help it. It’s not a wound or an injury but it’s something with a direct line to his heart, to his brain, connected by a roadmap of veins that are pumping blood downwards and making it hot and sticky and new, totally new.
Neither of them finger very well. Anton can tell that much; it’s nice but it’s fumbling, inconsiderate, and despite Sungchan’s sweetness he’s as clueless as Eunseok. Both of them look down between his legs like it’s some kind of glorious fountain, wilder than anything they’ve seen before (even if they’ve seen the exact same thing on Wonbin and never felt the need to share it), and adore it, pet it. Through joint efforts of Sungchan’s fingers softly massaging the inside and Eunseok rubbing, sometimes accurately, at the top of his lips, Anton starts to chew on the inside of his cheek. It’s going somewhere and it’s hurting but it feels nice, so hot, burning up, and it feels like nothing he’s felt before. A weird and out-of-body orgasm, but good. No complaints. It feels internal and obviously he’s looking down for something, but the liquid that spills out is clear, almost indetectable.
“It’s really nice,” Eunseok says, cupping it.
“It is Chanyoungie’s.”
“Is it? Or is it magic?”
“It’s attached to Chanyoungie, so it’s cute.”
“You think?” Anton says quietly, panting a little. “OK…Whatever.”
They nod at the same time. Creepy, like twins.
“Which one of us?” Eunseok asks.
Sungchan elbows him and says, “What Eunseok means to say but he clearly was raised with no manners…Which one of us should make love to you?”
“‘Make love,’” Eunseok repeats. “Fuck.”
Anton blushes. “I don’t know,” he says, touching both of their shoulders. “Kiss.”
“Us?” Now Eunseok’s blushing, right up to his ears. “Right,” he continues. “Kiss Sungchan.”
Sungchan kisses first. He’s not aggressive but clearly there’s an imbalance there between the two of them, even though Eunseok’s technically older. Watching Eunseok be like that in front of Sungchan — quiet, red-cheeked — is eye-opening. It makes Anton consider new angles and possibilities and dynamics that he’ll forget by tomorrow. He sees their tongues come together, wet and catching the light, and Sungchan’s hand on Eunseok’s neck, holding him in position.
Anton tugs on Sungchan, bringing him close. Because he’s Sungchan. Jeong Sungchan. Everybody likes him. Reality TV show babe. Born in Bumfuckville, NCity but doing a lot better where he belongs — apparently between his dongsaeng’s thighs, closely observed by his best friend. Eventually it’s hard to keep up a conversation while experiencing a thousand new feelings. Sungchan’s dick…Well, he’s seen it before in the shower, once or twice, no pressure. But now it’s really hard and it’s red at the tip and because he’s tall it’s stupid, probably too big.
“I can make it better,” Sungchan says, leaning down to kiss Anton’s thigh.
“What if it doesn’t go away?” Anton mutters.
“This…” Sungchan says, jerking himself off. No condom. Hopefully Anton’s insides are still the same or got screwed up like scrambled eggs or whatever, because he’s so confident about not getting pregnant that it doesn’t even cross his mind that Sungchan is going to be inside him like that or what that means on a spiritual level. “We’ll keep it a secret, promise.”
“I do want to go back.”
“I know you do, and you will.”
Anton’s mouth is a perfect circle. It doesn’t hurt as much as he was expecting, but there’s still punching, pressing forwards. Sungchan goes so slow and kisses his tears, ever the doting hyung, but it starts to ease up and feel good after a few minutes once the clouds open and he figures out how to avoid eye contact with Eunseok. For some reason that weird hyung has no issue jerking off on the corner of the bed and it’s honestly flattering — the only issue is Eunseok’s self-esteem, which may take a critical hit later. For now he’s unbothered by the image problems this has and Anton is loath to bring them up later. But it feels right that it’s Sungchan. Anton wraps his arms around Sungchan’s broad shoulders and wants to say something but can’t.
“Keep it a secret?”
“Mm, yeah. We all changed a lot. This is another kind of change,” Sungchan said, breathing deep, in and out, equal pressure, nothing too rough. His hips are doing something sparkly and magic. “Antonie,” he says. Not Chanyoung. “Am I…?”
“Yeah,” he says.
“Oh, wow,” Sungchan says, smiling big and froggish. “So cute, Antonie.” Then, just to prove he can, Sungchan says, “I love you,” in English. Because it’s him, Anton lets it go, and mostly he’s focused on the fact that he’s got that feeling stirring up inside him again and the rhythmic clenching is too much to bear. Sungchan bites into his collarbone, not hard enough to bruise, when he cums, legs shaking.
“Wow,” Eunseok is saying. “Oi, you, Sungchan.”
Sungchan rolls off of Anton, heavy, and casts his eyes up at Eunseok.
“Lazy bastard,” Sungchan says. “Can’t even jerk yourself off?”
“No. Would rather you do it.”
Anton figures he should say something but doesn’t. Sungchan and Eunseok act as if they’ve never kissed before but this is totally fine — touching, exploring, pretending like they were the same person split into two, jerking off. There’s Shotaro looking after Wonbin and Sohee enjoying his hyung privileges with Anton but this is a completely separate world, isolated in its own precious bell jar. For a while he’d been worried about what role Wonbin had played in all of this, his beautiful yet charmless witchcraft, but now it's by-the-by, it's cool.
And they’ve done it before, naturally. Even if Anton didn’t know about all the prerequisites, the implications of Park Wonbin between their two skinny bodies, it’s obvious enough from Sungchan’s hand on Eunseok’s dick and vice versa, no thought given to how it appears on the outside. What awful bag of tricks did they pick up from NCT? Is that how things go down over there? Spread out over so many people, surely bonds get tight and tangled and you end up with these two who can’t kiss but, hey, sure, you can touch my dick, does that make you feel any better? The absolute eradication of normality. Anton rests his head on the pillow, closing his eyes, still a little orgasmic and twitchy.
Eunseok starts to stroke Anton’s thigh again. “Are you asleep?”
“No,” Anton says.
“Good,” Eunseok replies. His grey pair of underwear is on the floor, a pile of threadbare fabric and strange holes. Idol budget isn’t cutting it, apparently. “Just rest up a sec, recharge.”
“Recharge?”
Sungchan’s hand covers Eunseok’s and makes it look tiny. “I need a minute too.”
“A minute?” Eunseok laughs.
“Unlike you, I’ve read the tantric sex manual —”
“No, you haven’t.”
“...And I don’t waste all my energy between my knuckles.”
“That’s disgusting,” Eunseok says. “No, you waste it between mine.”
“You never jerk me off, Eunseokkie, you just put on nasty porn and expect me to do all the hard work.”
Anton rubs his eyes. “You two are so immature.”
“Says you,” Eunseok says, resting his pointy chin on Anton’s thigh, breath ghosting over his pussy. “So I’m not sorry.” He kisses a line from his chin to the slight cleft between his thigh and labia. “Chanyoungie, aren’t we too mean to you? Always telling you what to do?”
Anton can’t breathe very well, so he just nods.
“Tell your hyungs what you want,” he whispers, tasting a bead of sweat.
Anton wonders if it’s the pussy talking or the mid-virginity confidence or the dawning realisation that Sungchan and Eunseok come as a package deal, but all he says is, “Both.” Eunseok grabs a handful of thigh, squeezes it in excitement, and Sungchan’s smile is so toothy and innocent you’d think he was getting a puppy.
“Both of us?” Eunseok asks, kissing the soft patch of hair above. “Does Wonbin still use that hair oil?”
With a three-person pinky promise and Wonbin’s organic coconut hair oil, Sungchan really steps up the hair-petting and the cooing and the obsessiveness, clinging onto him and holding him comfortably still. Eunseok’s always detached, leaving when the situation gets too personal or too embarrassing, but now Anton is the one who can’t look him in the eye as he melts a lump of coconut oil between two hands. He has the coldest hands of them all — not to mention his pokey little freezing feet in bed — so it takes a while before he says something banal about making sure the door is locked. Then Eunseok says, “Wonbin —”
“Please,” Anton mutters.
“Nevermind,” he says. “It feels kind of weird at first, but you’ll like it.”
Anton knows exactly what it feels like. Once before, when he was probably bored of the usual routine, he’d tried it himself while jerking off. One finger and it felt really dry and boring, nothing to write about, so he gave up and never tried again. Because Eunseok has small, deft hands and they’re slippery with oil, it’s different but still the same — all the nerves are still present, not rearranged in the mix-up, and they’re alive.
Sungchan holds him, kisses his cheek, strokes his chest, but he spends most of his time looking directly at Eunseok.
Two fingers and Anton’s knees are knocking together and there’s a powerful ache in his stomach like nothing before. A strong, ugly ache. Sungchan notices his twitchiness and mistakes it for discomfort.
“Are you OK?” he says, bottom lip dragging on Anton’s ear.
“It feels,” he breathes, “funny, but…” Eunseok bends his finger and Anton’s spine curves, avoiding it and leaning into it in equal measure. “Oh my God, Eunseok-hyung, be careful, it’s too…”
“Sensitive?” Eunseok asks.
But he must be joking, Anton concludes, because there’s not much sensitivity in the way he suddenly gets pressed between the two of them. “You’re like the filling,” Eunseok says, head slung over the right shoulder. He pokes Anton’s belly button. Sungchan tucks himself on the left side. “You can be jam or butter.”
Back against Sungchan’s torso, ab-to-ab with Eunseok, there’s little room to breathe or do much at all other than accept it, take it, and like it, because this is how things should be. Anton figures he spends way too much time — twenty years, even — considering the consequences and the ramifications of his actions. The endless cycle of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis. He wants to be like everyone else and just take things as they come, even if Eunseok smells like Wonbin and that makes Anton worry if Sungchan is thinking of Wonbin too and how you can have a threesome but that fourth rogue element manages to spark inside of everyone like potassium on water. The positions are inherently decided anyway. Anal sex immediately proceeding kissing with tongue for the first time sounds like a bad porno.
Sungchan spends a little time adjusting and being conscious of Eunseok also, but overall taking his time on Anton. For five minutes nobody speaks. It feels more intense and dull at the same time. Eunseok is crawling all over him and there’s just noise, pure noise, of mouths and clinking teeth and oil and pre-cum and slippery muscles.
“Oh my,” Sungchan says.
“Oh my,” Eunseok repeats.
“Ah, oh…” Anton covers his mouth with his hand, panting hard through his fingers. “Oh my God, can you…It’s both…Both of them…” Eunseok juts into him, stabs hard. “Feels so good, so nice...”
“It’s a really cute one,” Eunseok says.
Anton peers down. It’s not his body. “I wish you’d like me for me,” he replies, moaning.
Sungchan says, “I don’t think there’s anyone we like more.”
Eunseok says, “Better than sticking our dicks in crazy.”
Anton seizes up and Sungchan sucks his neck all the way through it, reaching for his hand to give it a supportive squeeze. This one’s all over the place, a sudden untangling of his nerves like he has no control over his bottom half from the two-sided pressure. Eunseok bites into his clavicle hard.
“Can you feel it…” Anton asks. “Sungchan inside me…?”
Eunseok grits his teeth. “I’m gonna cum,” he says. “Don’t say that, Chanyoungie, I’ll cum.”
Sungchan is reaching around all their bodies to press on Eunseok’s back. Freakishly in-sync as always, they cum at almost exactly the same time — a sudden clench and both of them collapse and crush Anton between skinny arms and muscular arms, Eunseok’s biting mouth and Sungchan’s kissing lips. The internal sensation is like nothing else. Without putting too fine a point on it, it's a rapid ejection into unknown territories, high-speed rail. Or maybe Sungchan's cum is in his ass and Eunseok's is in his cunt and there isn't much else to say on the matter.
He can’t move and doesn’t want to. Eunseok starts to snore and suddenly Anton is freaked out by the cool, congealing wetness and his own emotions getting too big. He’s known Sungchan likes him for a while, at least in front of the camera, and it was always easy to brush off the doting and skinship. Eunseok avoids everyone like the plague so it’s no big deal; keep it simple, stupid. But Sungchan is —
— asleep, smelling good. The others will get back soon. Anton wriggles, elicits an unintentional moan from Sungchan who’s done too much already, fuck tantra and multiple orgasms, and Eunseok presses him back down and says, “Keep still so I can feel you both.”
He doesn’t want to move anyway, dreamy in-between the two of them, suddenly able to relax.
***
It’s gone by the morning. His dick is brand new with a white gleam to it, like in cartoons. Eunseok crept into bed with him during the night and wakes up around the same time again, yawning into Anton’s neck.
“You know,” Eunseok says, “Sungchan really likes you.”
Unsure of where to place that sentiment, Anton decides to file it away for another day. Maybe he’ll take Shotaro’s advice for once and pretend that nothing bad can happen if you’re on stage.
Wonbin cries out from the bathroom, whining right down the hallway, "Who's been stealing my hair oil again?!"