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“Pssst. Sung-ah.” Chan’s fingers drum against the edge of the partition between them to get Jisung’s attention, his voice lowered to a whisper in the quiet of business class. “Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes.” It isn’t phrased as a question.
Jisung pulls his headphones off and lets them hang around his neck, pausing his movie to look at the other man. They are on their way back from their annual kink convention, flying half way around the world just to attend it. There’s a glint in Chan’s eye; horny— No. Hungry. Jisung can practically see his bloodstream fizzling like a livewire, his knee bouncing up and down in anticipation. He’s wearing leather pants on a long haul flight—clearly he was feeling more masochist than sadist this morning. Jacket removed, the cuts and bruises that litter his shoulders and collarbones—even his neck—from the various activities he participated in over the last four days are on full display. Honestly, his audaciousness astounds Jisung.
“Hyung.” Jisung chances a glance around the cabin. No one’s paying any attention to them but he still feels like he’s being watched. “Here? Really?”
Chan visibly deflates; his shoulders slump and he sticks his tongue in his cheek, but his knee continues to bounce, almost impatiently. “You can let Changbin tie your naked body up and rig you from the ceiling in a room full of fifty plus people, but you draw the line at being sucked off in a public bathroom?”
Crass language like this is mild in comparison to the kinky shit that Jisung is into—kinky shit that he was a very enthusiastic participant in just yesterday—and yet he can feel the flush rushing to his cheeks. Chan coos, reaching out and pinching Jisung’s cheek between two fingers. “Cute.”
Jisung tries to push Chan’s hand away, but Chan catches his wrist, holding it in a grip too secure for him to get out of. Just when he brings it to his mouth to what Jisung assumes is to playfully bite at his fingers, a firm palm lands on Chan’s shoulder.
Changbin, who is sat in the booth the other side of Chan—Jisung is extremely grateful Chan’s air miles not only got them into business, but somehow three middle aisle seats in a row—leans into Chan’s space, pulls his mask down over his chin and hisses into his ear, “God, you’re insatiable.” He meanly squeezes Chan’s shoulder, right over top a purpling bruise, earning a blissful shudder out of the oldest—definitely a masochist today. “The entire weekend not enough for you, hyung? Have you no shame?”
Chan turns to look over his shoulder, nose a breath’s width away from Changbin’s. Jisung doesn’t need to see the bratty smile tugging at Chan’s lips to know it’s there. “You know I don’t.”
Chuckling, Changbin skillfully avoids Chan’s greedy lips and meets Jisung’s eye. He doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow in question. Jisung’s dick is in disagreement with his brain, already at half-mast and defying the moral compass that he has dictated for himself. He, in what he thinks is subtle, crosses one leg over the other and shifts in his seat, but Chan’s beady eyes and Changbin’s knowing gaze catch him out. Jisung gulps, mouth suddenly feeling drier than the Sahara Desert and he shakes his head slowly, like he’s still trying to fully convince himself. Chan pouts, a pathetic whine escaping his lips, and Jisung is definitely not affected by it.
Hooking an arm around Chan’s shoulder, Changbin roughly grabs Chan’s chin, forcing the oldest to look at him again. “I’m sorry, am I not good enough for you?” He clicks his tongue. “Let go of Jisung, hyung.” Jisung’s wrist falls limply, colliding with the partition; a red mark blooming and merging with the leftover rope contusions. It doesn’t hurt, he’s experienced much worse, but he still thumbs over it in soothing circles.
Changbin's tone is low; dark, “follow me in five minutes.” Chan struggles against Changbin’s hold, but the red-hot flush flowing up his chest, up his neck and to the tips of his ears tells Jisung he’s not actually trying to escape. Changbin presses his lips against Chan’s cheekbone. Jisung doesn’t need to hear him to read his lips. “Slut.”
Jisung averts his gaze, suddenly feeling very hot under the collar, and tugs his hoodie down further over his crotch. He focuses on the blurry paused image of his in-seat TV screen and tries his best to tune out Chan’s gleeful giggles. In his peripheral vision, Changbin heaves himself up out of his seat and walks confidently down the aisle, the bathroom door in the distance opening and closing again as his bulky frame disappears.
Chan is clearly counting down the minutes. Every time Jisung side-eyes him—because he can’t help himself—Chan has his eyes glued to his phone screen, the leather of his pants pulling tight over his thigh with every bounce. The moment the clock ticks over, he all but launches himself out of his seat; any onlookers left to wonder if their fellow passenger is seconds away from an accident.
Finally alone with his thoughts—and his treacherous dick—Jisung lets out a shaky breath that he didn’t realise he was holding. He puts his headphones back on and pulls his sleeves over his hands. Pressing play on the movie, he reclines into his seat and crosses his arms tight to his chest, tucking his fists into his armpits. It doesn’t take long for him to become absorbed in the movie again—the Studio Ghibli picture that he’s seen more times than he can count but is still transfixed nonetheless.
That is until his phone buzzes from where it's trapped under his leg, shocking him and causing a delicious jolt that travels up his thigh and straight to his dick. He never thought he’d regret paying for inflight wifi.
Looking at the notification on his home screen, he swallows. Trying not to give into temptation, he goes to swipe it away, but his clammy thumbprint catches on the screen, his face ID activating and causing the group chat to open.
3-IN-1🧴💦⛓️🕳️
rope bunny 🐇💖🌷, rigger 🪢, the freak™
rigger 🪢 sent an image
ur missing out sungie
Jisung gasps, flipping his phone screen over immediately. He sinks lower into his seat until he’s almost horizontal, heart rate reaching worryingly high levels; all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut, lower lip tight between his teeth with his chin tipped up to the ceiling as he reaches out and blindly searches for the button of his partition, sighing in relief when it slowly rolls across and shuts him away from any prying eyes. Even so, he stills brings the phone close to his face, tilting it inwards so there's no possibility anyone can see.
The angle of the photo isn’t great—not professional in the slightest, amateur porn at most—but it’s still obscene.
Changbin’s ruddy cock head sits heavy on Chan’s wet tongue; a thin stream of salvia, or precum—or both—slides out the corner of his mouth. His eyes are half-lidded and glassy, pupils blown wide from beneath the feathering of dark lashes. His beanie sits askew on his head from the firm grip Changbin has on it; a stray curl peaks out from underneath.
Jisung’s dick twitches against its confines and without thinking, he presses the base of his palm to it to alleviate some of the pressure. His phone vibrates again, a notification pinging at the top of his screen and he swipes off of the now zoomed in focus of how well Changbin’s cock sits on Chan’s tongue.
rigger 🪢 sent a video
isn't he pretty
“Fuck.”
Jisung scrambles to unplug his headphones from the jack in the arm of his seat, jumping when the unpaused movie starts to sound out loud from the tinny speakers in the seat instead. He hits pause way too aggressively for a cheap tablet like screen and jams his headphones into his phone’s port; his horny, confused brain somehow doubting the safety of a bluetooth connection 40,000 ft in the air.
He presses play.
Jisung is immediately assaulted by imagery of Changbin’s cock fucking into the tight confines of Chan’s throat. The video blurs and focuses again, the camera struggling with the close proximity and yet, the audio is more than enough. The wet, squelching sound every time Changbin’s cock breaches Chan’s larynx, the gurgling of Chan’s choked moans as spit bubbles and pools in the corners of his mouth, then sliding down his chin. The camera pulls back and Changbin’s grunts become more audible. The beanie that once sat on Chan’s head is gone, Changbin’s fingers knotted into his blond curls instead.
“Look at the camera, Channie,” Changbin commands. Chan opens his eyes and hones in on the camera lens; tears cling to his lower lash line. “Show Jisungie what a good boy you are.”
Jisung squeezes his dick; he fidgets in his seat as the video cuts off abruptly and he presses play again, keeps replaying the twenty-odd seconds over and over again.
Another notification comes through.
rigger 🪢 sent a one time view only image
not letting you have this one for free
look at this messy pup
Jisung’s thumb moves faster than his brain can catch up, clicking the notification bar and then the little (1) icon, holding his thumb there so it doesn’t disappear too quickly—so he has time to savour it.
Rosy cheeks, strong nose and swollen lips glisten with painted ropes of cum; Chan’s mouth hangs slightly agape and his eyes are softly closed.
Jisung is too focused on the way that Changbin’s cum decorates Chan’s lips, and so he doesn’t see Changbin exiting the bathroom and walking back down the aisle, only noticing when he slumps back down into his seat with a huff.
Changbin places his feet flat on the floor, his legs spread wide and manly. He scans his eyes over Jisung’s body, fixes them in place on where his hand is on his crotch and smirks, meeting his eyes again. “Holding up okay, Sungie?”
Changbin’s hair is curling at his nape, a sheen of sweat coats his brow. He’s smug, all flushed cheeks and oozing bravado.
Before Jisung can answer, his phone buzzes in his hand again, and Changbin rolls his eyes, raising up slightly to fish his own phone out of his back pocket. “What has he done now…” He tuts. “Oh, that little…”
Jisung shudders out a deep breath and looks back at this phone screen, pinching closed the zoomed in photo and going back to the chat.
the freak™ sent 2 images
hehe 👅
The first photo is much like what Jisung was just looking at—a close up of Chan’s mouth. His lips are glossy like they’ve been wiped over, and the tip of his tongue rests against his lower lip, a small puddle of cum pooling in the centre.
The second photo is just as lewd as the last. A photo taken from above, Chan’s cock hangs limply against his thigh; his abs and chest covered in his own release.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
When Chan eventually reappears from the bathroom—notably, his beanie back on his head—he practically skips down the aisle. Changbin doesn’t get up to let him in so Chan climbs over him, giggling as Changbin slaps his ass and he falls back into his seat. When he looks over at Jisung, something visibly shifts within him. All it takes is a raise of his eyebrow for Jisung to pull his headphones off and move.
Jisung clambers into Chan’s lap, his sweats sliding against leather as he settles atop Chan’s thighs side saddle style. One of Chan’s hands finds Jisung’s waist, ruching his hoodie up so he can slide his palm round to the small of his back and pull him a little closer. He smiles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Jisung’s ear and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, pressing a kiss there. Jisung wrinkles his nose as Chan’s cooling, minty breath cascades over his face. Of course the sadomasochist brushed his teeth after sucking dick.
“Changed your mind?”
“Shuddup.” Jisung burrows himself into Chan’s neck, his fingers finding purchase in Chan’s tank top. He shakes with Chan’s responding laugh.
Cradling Jisung, Chan bends them forward, reaching under his seat to find his complimentary flight blanket. He sits back, Jisung easily going with him, and he slides them down further into the seat so that Jisung is laying against his chest.
“Bin-ah,” Chan calls, “can you—” Jisung hears the rustling of the packaging and feels the passing of air as Chan hands it to Changbin, Chan’s now free hand coming up to caress Jisung’s flank. Chan smells of stale plane air and sweat, mixed with the familiar cologne that still clings to his skin; the faintest underlayings of sex that is addictive, and has Jisung nuzzling in closer, wanting to bury himself underneath Chan’s skin. A thin blanket smelling of that stale plane air, just more concentrated, covers the both of them, Jisung’s head poking out of it.
Chan is warm, slightly sticky, and Jisung relishes in it—something that would be gross to any ordinary, vanilla person feeling like heaven to him.
Chan’s fingers trail downwards; they play with Jisung’s drawstrings, tugging them ever so slightly but not enough to pull them loose. The pads of his fingers trace over the length of him and Jisung jumps, his breath catching in his throat.
“Now, you’re gonna be nice and quiet for me, hm?” The oldest murmurs into his ear, and he licks over the shell of it—grazes his teeth over the tip. Jisung shivers and nods as much as his position will allow, his hips kicking up and trying to chase Chan’s fingers. Finally, Chan undoes the drawstrings, hooks two fingers into his waistbands and roughly pulls his sweats and boxers down under Jisung’s sack. The wet head of his dick rubs against the scratchy fabric of the blanket, the sensation sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.
A hand slides up his back, fingers tangling into the hairs at his nape and his head is wrenched backwards, Chan’s other hand appearing outside of the blanket and hovering under his mouth. “Spit.”
Jisung blinks up at Chan. He hollows his cheeks, presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth and rolls it around, collecting saliva on his tongue.
Changbin is nothing more than a hazy silhouette, but Jisung hears him loud and clear. “Bet he’s wet enough already, hyung.”
Chan hums, “he definitely is. He likes it wet though.” The grip on Jisung’s hair tightens and his head is jerked forward, the hand under his chin lightly smacks his cheek before hovering under again. “Jisung-ah. I said spit.”
Jisung drops his jaw, curling his tongue until a rindle of saliva falls out and hits Chan’s palm. It snaps and breaks, a small globule following behind it.
“Fucking hell,” Changbin curses and he turns in his seat to close his partition.
Chan smirks. He closes his hand into a fist and knocks a knuckle under Jisung’s chin, his teeth clacking together as his jaw snaps shut. The hand in his hair directs him back to Chan’s neck, and once settled, the grip relaxes into a more gentle hold. Chan worms his fist back beneath the blanket, and with the finesse of someone who has held spit in their hand on far too many occasions—and without giving Jisung any warning—Chan wraps his hand around him, squeezing before dragging up and down in one slow, long stroke. Jisung gasps into Chan’s neck and he squirms in his lap, his leg kicking out as he fights against fucking back into Chan’s fist—he knows better than to do that.
Chan’s thumb presses against Jisung’s frenulum before swiping over the head and pressing into the slit. “You’re right, Bin. He’s so wet.” Talking about him like he isn’t there always does a number on Jisung’s brain and he whines, a high-pitched sound thankfully muffled into the juncture between Chan’s neck and shoulder.
Chan rolls his palm over the head of Jisung’s cock, saturating it with the endless stream of pre-cum before he resumes stroking him. Rough callouses catching against sensitive skin cause a delicious friction that has Jisung keening, his back arching when he can no longer resist his urges and fucking back into Chan’s fist.
“Easy, baby.” Chan’s lips press against Jisung’s temple. “Be good.”
Jisung is hurtling towards the finish line much faster than he’d like, but is expected with how pent up he already was before Chan got his hands on him. Every upstroke has the knot in his abdomen pulling tighter, the downstroke twisting it further and threatening it to snap.
A woman’s voice cascades down the aisle, doppler effect meaning it gets louder and louder. Chan hushes him, slowing down his pace but not stopping. “We’ll be serving you your first meal in the next ten minutes— Oh! Is everything okay?”
Jisung daren’t look up, his eyes no doubt glazed over and fucked out. An involuntary whimper tumbles out of him and he swallows—he’s been dribbling into Chan’s neck. The hand in his hair moves to stroke over the top of his head.
“He’s fine,” Chan says, a polite smile in his tone.
“He just gets anxious on flights, that’s all,” Changbin continues.
“Okay… Well, let one of us know if you need anything.”
They both thank the flight attendant, her voice and footsteps fading out until Jisung can no longer hear her. His hackles fall, and he sinks deeper in Chan’s embrace. His relief is short-lived though, as the moment she is out of sight, Chan resumes his fast pace—Jisung’s oncoming orgasm even more impactful after the edging he’s endured.
“Dangerous game you’re playing, hyung,” Changbin mutters, and Chan just laughs, his fist picking up a brutal pace as he jerks Jisung to completion.
Chan’s breath coats Jisung’s ear as he whispers directly into it; commanding, domineering, “come.”
The knot snaps and Jisung climaxes, a fire flaming his lower belly as he releases into Chan’s first, coating his palm in ropes of hot cum. His muscles spasm, legs kicking out again and shaking as they stretch out. Changbin reaches across and catches Jisung’s ankle from where it has appeared from under the blanket, rubbing soothing circles into the tender flesh between his ankle bone and achilles heel. Chan strokes him through the come-down, letting Jisung fuck up into his fist in tiny, aborted thrusts.
A warm kiss is pressed to his temple. “You did so well, darling.” Chan’s thumb swipes over the head and his cock spurts one last meager amount of release, making Jisung mewl. “Welcome to the mile high club, baby.” The tongue-in-cheek comment has Jisung weakly slapping Chan’s chest and he pushes against Chan’s pecs to sit upright, swaying slightly and squinting his eyes as they try to adjust to the bright light of the cabin. Chan procures a wet-tissue from God-knows-where, swiftly cleaning Jisung up before tucking him back into his clothing. Three hands help to manhandle him across the seats and into Changbin’s lap instead, straddling one of his thighs.
Changbin kisses Jisung’s flushed cheek and holds him against his chest, hands soothing over his back and waist as he whispers words of praise for doing so well.
Chan’s movement out of the corner of Jisung's eye catches his attention and they both watch as he licks over his dirty hand, collecting Jisung’s release from his palm and in between his fingers on his tongue, before humming contentedly and swallowing, all while making direct eye contact with the both of them. Jisung’s dick makes a feeble attempt of stirring back to life.
That glint in his eye is back again—maybe it never left. “My turn now?”