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The Art of Bluffing

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Chanyeol is kind of loud.


It’s not that he means to be, but his voice is low and robust and has just enough carrying power to be heard clearly over screaming jet engines.  It’s no different in the dorm.  His voice pierces the walls of his room and through each door, his throaty laughter echoing even when he tries his best to keep it down, his constant cheerful chatter akin to the bellowing of a bull.


Add that to the fact that Chanyeol and Kris do nothing so much as have (annoying, loud, verbally graphic) sex almost constantly, and it completes the formula that has just about eaten through Joonmyun’s last nerve.


Jongin is tucked under his arm, heavily asleep and drooling on the pillow, his face still flushed from their marathon session earlier.  Dance practice had been brutal and frustrating; as a result, Jongin had followed Joonmyun into his room at bedtime, shoved his ankles up around his ears and fucked him into oblivion.  That’s Jongin’s favorite method of stress relief, and Joonmyun isn’t going to complain.


The telltale thunk of Chanyeol’s bed begins on the other side of their shared wall, intruding on Joonmyun’s blank mind and instantly dispelling the post-coital calm that had settled over him.   Jongin twitches and smacks his lips sleepily but doesn’t wake up, and Joonmyun tries not to let the noise bother him.


He’s barely able to endure a minute of percussive noise, punctuated with low rumbles of speech muted by the wall, and only the warmth and comfortable weight of Jongin keeps him in bed.  After five minutes, however, his nerves are screaming with aggravation, and he carefully extricates himself from Jongin before retrieving his boxers from the top of the wardrobe.


He raises a hand to knock on Chanyeol’s door, but it’s not latched, and swings open on the first strike of his knuckles.  Kris is looking up and over his shoulder, Chanyeol’s legs slung over his elbows, and both of them are wide-eyed in surprise.  Kris grins when he sees Joonmyun framed by the doorway.


“Can we help you?” Kris says smugly, his hips moving gently against Chanyeol’s and drawing little muffled grunts from him.  Joonmyun stares firmly at the light on the bedside table, trying his best to ignore the fact that they’re fucking in front of him.  He opens his mouth to complain.


“Jesus, Joonmyun, have some manners and shut the door.” Chanyeol interrupts, his tone imitating Joonmyun’s voice, and Kris laughs unabashedly; Joonmyun had lectured Chanyeol with those same words only hours before.


He pushes it half-closed behind him, feeling like he’s shutting himself in a cage with two tigers.  He keeps his hand on the doorknob in case they go for the jugular.


“Is there any chance you can, um, keep it down?” Joonmyun rasps, his tone wavering slightly.  He flushes in embarrassment, and Kris’s hips piston forward particularly hard, making Chanyeol groan out a few choice curse words.


“What, you don’t want to join us?” Kris chuckles, pulling Chanyeol’s legs up so that his ankles lock around Kris’s neck.  Joonmyun gapes, all his discretion forgotten.


“I—what?—No.” He manages to stammer out, and Chanyeol giggles.


“Okay, then.  Goodnight.” Kris says pleasantly, as if for all the world he were commenting on the weather, and he grabs Chanyeol’s ankles—Joonmyun can’t help but notice the way Kris’s long hands splay against Chanyeol’s pale skin—and forces his legs up against his chest, folding him in half, his hips rolling smoothly.  Chanyeol yelps something half-intelligible.  Joonmyun is past trying not to stare anymore; he’s definitely looking at Kris’s ass and Chanyeol’s legs and listening to every whimper, and he hasn’t really realized it yet.


“But—” Joonmyun tries to interrupt, but he’s drowned out by a particularly loud yelp from Chanyeol.  “Can you please—” He tries again.


Harder!” Chanyeol moans, his hands appearing on Kris’s sharp hips to clutch and grab and pull him in deeper.  Joonmyun discovers that his mouth is hanging open, and closes it with a snap.


“Are you still here, Joonmyun?” Kris says in mock surprise, though he’s grinning down at Chanyeol.  “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do for you?”


Joonmyun had heard everything from Kyungsoo (and independently, Sehun), and he had been lying to himself ever since.  It was impossible to convince himself it wasn’t interesting to hear details of Kyungsoo with most of Kris’s hand inside him, or to imagine Sehun between them, flushed hot and panting as he writhed, worked over completely by two pairs of hands until he broke.  He knew Yixing had been with them too, but he hadn’t been forthcoming with the details; Joonmyun was free to imagine whatever he liked, which was supremely unhelpful in every way. 


It’s nothing, he tells himself.   He isn’t curious in the slightest.


But he is.  He’s thought about little else since the last time Kyungsoo had crawled into bed with him a week ago.  Kyungsoo hadn’t said a word about Kris and Chanyeol, had only rubbed a hand cool and slick with lube over Joonmyun’s dick and guided him in, but the only thing on Joonmyun’s mind was Kyungsoo, forced open wide by two cocks.


It took him an embarrassingly short time to come.  Kyungsoo had been miffed.


Joonmyun is staring, unable to speak, but his mind is playing images faster than he can keep up with them—images of himself in the middle, of Kris’s mouth on his own skin and Chanyeol inside him.  He glances down at the distended front of his boxers, annoyed by his own body’s duplicity.


“Joonmyun.” Chanyeol whispers.  The sound of his name in Chanyeol’s husky voice ultimately makes the decision for him, sends his precariously stacked inhibitions tumbling like cardboard boxes.  He pushes the door shut completely and crosses the room in what seems like a single step.


Kris looks up at him, a smile on his swollen lips, and Joonmyun freezes.  “So…there is something.” Kris says finally, his eyes glittering in the low light of the bedside lamp, and Chanyeol laughs softly.  “Why do you look nervous, Joonmyun?” He asks, more gently, and Joonmyun shrugs.


“I’m not nervous.” Joonmyun shrugs, but the distance he keeps and the wary eye he casts over the two of them give him away.  Kris shares a significant look with Chanyeol before slinging an arm around Joonmyun’s waist and pulling him in.  A hand skims up the back of his thigh, warm and gentle, to cup his ass, and Joonmyun swallows heavily.


“Whatever it is you want, I’m sure we can help.” Kris murmurs, tipping his head back to look Joonmyun full in the face, and Joonmyun reaches for him, his hand shaking.


His fingers grab Kris’s hair to pull his head back firmly to force their mouths together.  Kris’s lips are dry from exertion and panting breaths, but his tongue sweeps eagerly into Joonmyun’s mouth, in control without even trying; Joonmyun finds himself breathless, his little act of bravado punctured and deflated.


Kris breaks the kiss after a moment to brace a hand against Chanyeol’s hip and pull himself out.  Joonmyun sees the size of him, wet and shiny with lube, imagines Kyungsoo taking both of them at the same time, and suddenly quails.  I can’t do that!


“Relax.” Kris says softly, pulling Joonmyun in by the chin for another kiss.  “We won’t do anything you don’t want to.  Just tell us.”


“Okay.” Joonmyun says, planting a knee on the bed to steady himself.  His belly is simmering, warmth spreading through his body and making his skin itch with the need to be touched.  Chanyeol grabs Joonmyun’s hand and guides him into his lap.  The contact with Chanyeol’s hot skin makes his makes his dick throb almost painfully.


“That’s it.” Chanyeol murmurs reassuringly, pressing dry lips to Joonmyun’s throat and jawline.  “It’s okay, hyung.”


And Kris is there, warm hands on Joonmyun’s shoulders and mouth on the back of Joonmyun’s neck, and it’s just too fucking good.  The fact that he came an hour ago has no bearing on how his body is reacting, waves of gooseflesh rising along the tops of his thighs where Chanyeol’s hands pass over them.  He kisses Chanyeol finally, his hand tangling in the hair at the back of Chanyeol’s neck, delighted in the soft plushness of Chanyeol’s mouth as their tongues mesh and slide.


“You’re the last person we’d expected to have with us.” Kris murmurs, his lips and breath hot against Joonmyun’s ear.  A shiver judders down Joonmyun’s spine.  “We’re glad you’re here.”


“What changed your mind?” Chanyeol whispers.


Joonmyun’s brain is two steps behind, still deeply invested in his own startled disbelief, and he opens his mouth before he really knows what to say.  “Curious.” He manages thickly, past Chanyeol sucking gently on his lower lip.


“I can understand that.” Kris says thoughtfully, slipping two fingers inside the waistband of Joonmyun’s boxers and tracing the imprint of the elastic in his skin.  “Was it Kyungsoo?”


Joonmyun nods, helpless, leaning back against Kris and trying to keep himself together.  Chanyeol’s hands are tracing lazy patterns across his ribs, teasing the sensitive skin of his hips and finally pushing the fabric of Joonmyun’s boxers down his pale thighs.  Joonmyun watches with a sense of vagueness, hardly believing his own senses.


He’s brought back to earth almost instantly by Kris’s fingertips circling one of his nipples, the sensation like a shock from a bare wire.  Chanyeol’s hands rest high on his thighs, almost in the crease of his pelvis, suggestively close to the jutting hardness of his dick.  Joonmyun swallows dryly, at a loss for what to do or say, unable to articulate the desperate ache in his body.


“Can I?” Chanyeol asks curiously, running the pad of one finger up the top of Joonmyun’s cock.  He wraps his fingers around the length of it at Joonmyun’s nod, stroking his thumb over the tip and grinning at the shaky exhale that leaves Joonmyun’s parted lips.


Chanyeol leans back on his elbows, his hands still gripping the outside of Joonmyun’s thighs.  “Scoot forward.” Kris says in his ear, pressing his palm against Joonmyun’s lower back; confused, Joonmyun does as he’s told, until his cock brushes Chanyeol’s wet lips.  He makes a little sound of sudden understanding as Chanyeol guides him forward just a bit more.


Chanyeol’s tongue glides over the tip of Joonmyun’s cock before his lips part to slip around the crown.  A pucker of gooseflesh rises over his skin again in response to the heat.  He wonders if the angle hurts Chanyeol’s neck, but Chanyeol’s eyes are closed in concentration, and he tugs Joonmyun’s hips until his lips are tight around the base of his dick.


Kris’s hands settle over the tops of Chanyeol’s, pulling in opposition to one another, beginning a rocking motion that affords Joonmyun the most perfect view of his cock sliding past Chanyeol’s slick lips. 


Joonmyun is thrown completely off balance.  Every nerve in his body is straining to jam his cock down Chanyeol’s warm throat, to make him convulse and choke, but between the two of them, Joonmyun is only going as far as they want him to.  Kris’s hand spreads over his lower back, hot-palmed and sticky, and tips his hips forward gently.  Chanyeol leans back too, since the change in angle is much easier on his neck now.


The pad of a thumb rubs down the cleft of his ass to press flat against his still-sensitive hole, and Joonmyun lets out a squeak of surprise.  Kris chuckles, pulling Joonmyun open gently with one hand, the other hand teasing Joonmyun with fluttering pressure against his entrance.  A little tremor passes through Joonmyun’s body, accompanied by a tiny moan.


“Still sensitive?  We heard you with Jongin.  Is he any good?” Kris says, to an amused hum from Chanyeol that sends vibrations rocking through Joonmyun’s body.  With Joonmyun’s hips pitched forward like this, Kris can see the curve of Chanyeol’s chin and the redness of his lower lip, and above that, Joonmyun’s balls pulled tight against the thick hardness of his cock, all framed by Joonmyun’s stout thighs like marble pillars.  


He rubs his thumb against Joonmyun’s entrance a little harder, and Joonmyun lets out a word Kris has only heard him say once before.


Fuck, Kris.” He gasps.  “Please…”


“What do you want?” Kris says, moving his fingers away to trail from the base of Joonmyun’s cock all the way up the cleft of his ass.


“Inside.” Joonmyun moans weakly, bracing his hands against the headboard.  Kris swears under his breath.  Chanyeol wriggles and pushes Joonmyun’s hips back until his dick pops free of Chanyeol’s wet mouth, and his voice is rough when he speaks.


“Haven’t had your fill, hmm?” He says, wrapping his fingers around Joonmyun’s wet cock and stroking it slowly.  Joonmyun pitches forward without meaning to, his back arched, and Kris takes the opportunity, parting Joonmyun’s cheeks with his thumbs again to lick a long stripe up the cleft of his ass.


Joonmyun’s knuckles go white on the edge of the headboard, and his legs tremble violently on either side of Chanyeol’s head.  “Oh god.” He whimpers helplessly as the tip of Kris’s tongue teases his entrance.


“You know, I don’t even think I’ll need to prep him.” Kris remarks in a slightly muffled voice, and Joonmyun shivers and moans as Kris slips two lube-wet fingers in alongside his tongue.  “Still so fucking tight, though.”


“I bet he is.” Chanyeol smirks, his fingertips tracing light patterns into the backs of Joonmyun’s thighs.  "I wanna fuck him..."


“If he wants.” Kris says simply, pinching the skin of Chanyeol’s inner thigh with his free hand.  Joonmyun barely registers the exchange going on below him, too focused on the hot slide of Kris’s tongue around his entrance and the probe of those impossibly long fingers deep inside him.  Kris’s fingers crook downward mercilessly just as Chanyeol’s lips wrap around the head of Joonmyun’s dick again, and his body twitches, every nerve surging eagerly against the surface of his skin.


“Fuck.” Joonmyun repeats desperately, a little louder, his hips rocking back and forth helplessly between the two of them.  “Oh, fuck.”


Kris presses his fingers down even harder, relentlessly abusing that soft spot with his fingertips, and Joonmyun’s moan instantly sharpens into a whine.  “Oh god, I’m gonna—”


Chanyeol freezes, and Kris retracts his fingers slightly, taking the pressure off his prostate. Joonmyun’s hips jolt impatiently, begging for friction, but Chanyeol’s hands are set firmly against his waist, and there’s nothing he can do.  “I was close.” Joonmyun complains, squeezing his eyes shut.  “Please don’t stop.”


“Then…here, like this.” Kris pulls his fingers out and repositions Joonmyun on all fours on top of Chanyeol, both to give Chanyeol’s neck a break and for better access.  Joonmyun trembles in anticipation.  Chanyeol pulls him down for a reassuring kiss, and Joonmyun wheezes something inarticulate into Chanyeol’s parted lips as Kris drips lube down the crack of Joonmyun’s ass.


Kris pushes two fingers inside Joonmyun again, grinning at Chanyeol over Joonmyun’s shoulder as Joonmyun mashes his face against Chanyeol’s sternum, his lips open in a perfect O.  Little strangled noises catch in his throat on each panting breath, gasps that in turn match up perfectly with the smooth, rapid thrusts of Kris’s impossibly long fingers.


“Gonna—” Joonmyun wails helplessly, the word barely formed and sloppy as it leaves his lips.  His cheek is slicked with saliva from his open mouth, a strand of which connects him to Chanyeol’s chest, and Chanyeol wipes it away with a sweep of his thumb.  Joonmyun shakes dangerously, his hands tight and clawlike on Chanyeol’s biceps, and Kris angles the thrusts of his fingers just right—


Joonmyun comes, and comes, and comes, a half-stifled scream pouring from his mouth as he thrashes against Kris’s fingers buried deep inside him.  Joonmyun’s come spatters Chanyeol’s stomach and chest, warm and wet, and Kris keeps his fingers where they are, coaxing hypersensitive jolts out of him as Joonmyun collapses on top of Chanyeol, huffing like an exhausted animal.


His eyes are half-open, barely seeing, and Chanyeol brushes his hair out of his eyes and grins. Joonmyun’s body feels liquid, warm and soft, the sweat in his hair deliciously cool on his tingling scalp.  The warm sweep of Kris’s hand down Joonmyun’s spine sends another sensitive shiver through his body.


There you are.”


Joonmyun tries to sit up and flops back down pathetically as his muscles fail to respond, while Jongin closes the door behind him, taking the scene before him in through puffy eyes.  A smile curves his sleep-swollen lips.


“You should’ve woken me up if you wanted more.” He says casually to Joonmyun as he approaches the bed.  Chanyeol reaches a hand out, and Jongin swoops in to press his lips to Chanyeol’s cheek.  “Did you break him?”


“Don’t worry.” Joonmyun laughs breathlessly, struggling to sit up.  “They took care of me.”


“How long were you standing there?” Kris asks blankly, and Chanyeol snickers.


“Like, five minutes.” Jongin says with a grin, leaning in to kiss Kris’s cheek too.  “Any chance I can have him back?”


“You could both stay, but there’s not much room.” Chanyeol says as Jongin gathers Joonmyun up, where he sways on his feet, looking dazed.  Kris takes a t-shirt from the floor and wipes off the mess on Joonmyun’s stomach, and Chanyeol hands Joonmyun’s discarded boxers to Jongin.


“Don’t be too hard on him, now.” Kris jokes, patting Joonmyun’s ass.  Joonmyun giggles.


“You kidding?  I’m going to break him like a twig.” Jongin retorts pleasantly, and they all know he isn’t joking in the slightest.  “Come on, hyung.” He sings.  


Joonmyun’s nervous whimper can be heard clearly as Jongin steers them out of the room.


“As for you,” Kris says, shoving Chanyeol back on the bed, “I wasn’t quite done with you before we were interrupted.”


“Interrupted?” Chanyeol snorts.  “You invited him in.  Jesus, Kris, at this rate we’re going to fuck our way through the entire group.  Right now, I’d rather you just finish me off.”


“And if I don’t?” Kris retorts, pulling Chanyeol by his hips down the bed so that his legs automatically wrap around Kris’s waist.


“Then I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to hear Joonmyun screaming next door.”


Kris considers this for a moment.  “Works for me.” He says happily, and Chanyeol flings the bottle of lube at his face.


Nobody in the dorm sleeps worth a damn all night.