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It’s nearing midnight and their dorm is alight with the sound of loud squealing, feet pounding against the wooden floors and doors slamming shut almost too violently. Nobody seems to mind it, not even manager Dohyun who’s holed himself up in the kitchen with Subin; he throws the same sunny look over his shoulder whenever somebody skids too close to their chairs, going back to talking to Subin like Sejun didn’t just nearly crash into them for the third time in ten minutes. They’ve been there for over an hour, saw Seungsik make noodles (that they refused, saying they had dinner while they were out earlier; Seungsik shrugged without thinking it was weird) and then hand-feed the boys waiting in line behind him until the small pot was empty and he was still somewhat hungry.
Now Hanse’s made it his life mission to chase Sejun around, hands curled into menacing claws as he wriggles his fingers at the older man. It makes Sejun laugh and squeak out something about being very ticklish and then he’s off again, sprinting across the room to avoid being caught. Seungwoo steps in and for a moment it looks like he’s there to help Sejun, up until he grabs him by the waist and hauls him in his lap, holding his hands down to let Hanse tickle him to his heart’s content.
A very visibly disgruntled Byungchan pokes his head into the living space only a few moments after Sejun starts screaming. His hair is sticking up on one side of his head and he doesn’t use any honorifics with Sejun and his perpetrators, but nobody seems to notice his little slip-up.
“Byungchannie, help! I’m going to be all black and blue tomorrow!” As if to prove his point, Hanse sticks one finger right under Sejun’s ribs, making him yelp and cover his sides when Seungwoo lets his hands slide out of his grasp. Byungchan gives them an unimpressed look, turning back towards his room and closing the door behind him.
Hanse walks away from the couch, quickly losing interest in his little game with Sejun. Silence washes over their corner of the living room, but it’s only temporary.
“Sejun bruises really easily,” Seungwoo offers as an explanation. Seungsik’s gaze trails down Sejun’s body, stopping at his waist as if he can already see the marks left by Hanse’s mean little fingers through the shirt he’s wearing. And then his eyes slip down—on accident, he swears—to Sejun’s thighs, the part that’s not covered by his shorts. The skin there is unblemished save for a dark spot just to the side of Sejun’s knee, something he probably got during dance practice. They all end up with bruised knees after working on their choreos, and there’s the coffee table that loves to poke at their legs when they least expect it as well.
It takes Seungsik a moment to go back to looking at their faces. Seungwoo’s lips stretch into a knowing smirk while the tips of Sejun’s ears turn the barest of pinks and Seungsik wants to ask them what’s going on, feels as if there’s a joke he’s missed the punchline to. Dohyun chooses that exact moment to get up, chair dragging against the floor with a loud noise and Seungsik inadvertently turns his attention towards him, forgetting all about the men on the couch. He gets up to walk their manager to the door and completely misses Seungwoo’s hand creeping down Sejun’s side to rest on his thigh, squeezing the muscle briefly as Sejun bites on his lip to stifle a noise.
———
The hustle and bustle of their meeting room does a very good job of keeping Seungsik away from any thoughts regarding their next comeback. Somehow it’s nice, avoiding the stress without him having to make a conscious effort to do so, but the downside is that he can’t really hear himself think at all.
He’s supposed to wait until it’s his turn to put on his stage outfit and wait for the coordi-noona to turn him each and every way and make sure that his pants fit and are the correct length, that his shirt is tucked in and will stay that way even through their dance routine and that there’s exactly five extra holes on his belt for the string of pearls they’ll attach later. There’s not enough people around today and they’re getting looked at in pairs, which suits some of them just fine: Subin’s in the seat next to him, dozing lightly with his arms crossed over his chest, looking every bit the baby he stopped being years ago. Seungsik resists the urge to reach over and poke his cheek.
The relative calm of the room is disrupted when the door bangs against the wall. Subin jerks awake next to him, a confused expression on his face until he spots Chan looking sheepish as he enters the room with Byungchan in tow and he turns his face into the cushion under his head once he figures out that nothing bad happened. Except Hanse’s already walked over to their spot, bending at the waist until he’s level with Subin’s face, talking to him in his baby voice and telling him they need to get their clothes tailored and checked together.
Eventually, he manages to drag Subin away, leaving Seungsik alone on the couch. That means he’ll be the last one to go in but he doesn’t have a problem with that, appreciating the extra time he gets to try and gather his thoughts; there’s another round of practice after they’re done with the fitting and Seungsik has to go back to the studio to record the backing vocals portion of their track. It’s a lot of work and he’d never complain about having to do it, but he hasn’t slept well lately and everything seems to catch up to him.
With Subin gone and the room seemingly quieter all of a sudden, resting his eyes doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. He shifts over towards the end of the couch, adopting Subin’s position from earlier and feeling his eyelids grow heavier almost immediately. He knows the coordi-noonas will wake him up if they need him so he doesn’t worry about sleeping through the fitting session, and it’s with that in mind that Seungsik slips into a light slumber, the tense lines around his face relaxing almost immediately.
Seungsik doesn’t know how much time has passed since the beginning of his little nap, but it couldn’t have been that long. He hears a few voices somewhere to his right, one of them clearly belonging to Seungwoo while the others are softer, a bit higher. He wants to get up and ask if it’s his turn to go in but with nobody shaking him awake he figures he should be good for a few more minutes. Seungsik shifts minutely and tries to zone out their chatter, but he can’t.
Overhearing them has to be an accident, evidenced by the fact that they’re talking in hushed whispers. Subin’s trying his best not to laugh while Seungwoo teases Sejun about hurting the coordi-noona’s feelings, having to go in a second time while they’ll be on their way to dinner. It’s all harmless talk, because they won’t leave Sejun behind—he’ll probably end up walking into the dressing room with Seungsik, who still needs to see if his stage clothes need any adjustments—but seeing him whine playfully and slap their hands away is always amusing.
He sighs to himself and gets up, wincing when his back cracks loudly. The three men are gathered around a table and Seungwoo’s the only one facing him, lips stretching into a smile when he sees Seungsik approach. He slides into the chair next to him and rubs at the skin under his eyes, feeling the tightness there release just a little bit.
It doesn’t take him long to catch up to what they were talking about. “Sejunnie needs to go in again because the pants they got him the first time don’t fit. Can’t get them past his thighs.” Seungwoo has this weird gleam in his eye when he says it and Sejun whines, turning away from Subin when his hands dive under the table to presumably poke at his legs. Seungsik’s guilty of letting his eyes fall down to Sejun’s waist, where his knee pokes up from behind the table and his thigh is on glorious display, a long line of thick muscle that makes Seungsik blink owlishly at it.
Eventually, he tears his gaze away from Sejun, feeling a bit unmoored and hot. It’s not the first time he’s noticed Sejun’s thighs, not with them living under the same roof (and sometimes room) for this long, and he can admit that Sejun’s legs are on the sturdier side—not that there’s anything wrong with that, but he’s definitely noticed it. For lack of anything else to do, he scratches his head and looks at Seungwoo only to see him sporting the biggest smirk; it’s gone as soon as it appeared, leaving Seungsik even more confused. He doesn’t pay attention to Subin going back to sit in his chair properly and gets up again, mumbling something about needing to go to the bathroom.
———
A while later everything comes to a screeching halt. Five of them are gathered into the living room after practice, waiting for their dinner to be delivered. Seungwoo’s still puttering away in the bathroom and Chan went on the balcony to call his parents, with the rest of them sprawled on top of the couch or sitting on the floor. Byungchan doesn’t seem to pay any attention to the shrieking trio just to his right, too engrossed in his phone to notice Sejun kicking his legs up at whatever Subin’s showing him on his own device.
It’s good that no-one seems to spot the way Seungsik’s mouth hangs open, quite literally, and how his fingers get so lax he almost drops the water bottle he’s holding when the shorts Sejun’s wearing ride up. Seungsik catches shaky glimpses of the dark bruises that adorn Sejun’s thighs, striking and evident in their reddish-purple coloring. They follow the shape of a clawed hand on the outside of his leg while the ones on the inside of his thigh vary in size and also placement, smaller speckles clustered around an impressive bite. Unexpectedly, Subin’s hand comes down—a sharp smack to Sejun’s thigh that makes him yowl playfully, all three of them laughing at his antics; though Seungsik doesn’t fail to notice how his hand stays there even after Sejun’s scream dies out, replaced by a dimpled smile that stretches his lips wide.
He doesn’t like what he sees, and then he doesn’t like the way his stomach churns at this easy display of closeness between them. Jealousy has no place in their group, not after all the years they’ve spent getting to know each other inside out and learning how to breathe in sync. Seungsik would scoff at himself if Chan didn’t choose that exact moment to step back into their common living space, blissfully oblivious to the turmoil inside Seungsik’s mind or the scene he just missed.
Afterwards, Seungsik still ends up squeezing his legs reflexively whenever Sejun as much as twitches, as if the bruises line the insides of his own thighs instead. Sejun gets up when the doorbell rings and his shorts fall all the way down to his knees, covering the incriminating marks even though the damage has been done. Their shape and color and position is already burned into the back of Seungsik’s eyelids, a violet star chart embedded into the creaminess of his skin. They’ll stay there for the next few days, until Seungsik manages to forget about it, but then the image will resurface whenever the younger man wears the same pair of shorts, probably during practice or at their dorms again. He sneaks a glance at Byungchan, busy poking Hanse’s side to get him to give up his spot on the couch and wonders how the others haven’t noticed.
He shuts his eyes and makes a note to talk to them later.
———
Seungsik can almost convince himself that the reason he enters Seungwoo’s room late one Thursday night is because he has to talk to him as Victon’s current leader. Nothing to do with the fact that he’s convinced there’s something going on between him and Sejun, and not Subin like he initially thought. Somehow, that makes the ugly feeling in his chest lessen but not disappear, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen next but he knows they at least need to talk, before any more people figure it out. He trusts their members not to do anything extreme, at least not outwardly, but he can’t say that their cohesiveness as a group won’t be tested; though for all Seungsik knows, maybe everybody else is aware of it and he’s the only one left in the dark.
He pauses outside Seungwoo’s door, scratching his head. Despite Sejun doing the farthest thing from flaunting his body around their dorm, they do see each other in various stages of undress pretty often (it’s how Seungsik can confirm that there are no marks decorating Sejun’s upper body, something he’s grateful for—though he’s really trying to pretend that he’s not interested in that, like he doesn’t want to see what Sejun would look like wearing those bruises like a collar around his neck, bite marks littered under his collarbone and across his broad shoulders; he’s a filthy bad liar), and it’s honestly a surprise nobody’s made a comment about it whenever Sejun wears his shorts or when he walks out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around him. Seungsik’s paid more attention to that than he’d like to admit.
In hindsight, he knows he should’ve knocked. Instead, he puts his hand on the doorknob and turns it, half expecting the door to be locked but he ends up tripping into the room rather gracelessly, one step away from falling on his face. The sight that greets him doesn’t surprise him, not after he expected them to be up to something even more nefarious. He’s seen Sejun slip away from the kitchen only minutes after Seungwoo left, and he wouldn’t have suspected anything if it wasn’t for Sejun heading in the opposite direction of his shared room.
Sejun doesn’t jump when Seungsik stumbles into Seungwoo’s room. The lights are on, so bright he can easily make out the two figures on Seungwoo’s bed, Sejun sitting in the older man’s lap with Seungwoo’s hands resting on his thighs. Standing there feels awkward and Seungsik wants to leave immediately, but he’s rooted to the spot. He needs to tell them to be more careful—or to outright stop, that grim part of him supplies unhelpfully, even if he doesn’t think he has a say in what they choose to do as long as this doesn’t bother anybody else. And apart from him, it seems like their other bandmates are either happily oblivious or they’ve just accepted it.
His throat feels raw when he tries to speak, and Seungsik wets his lips and runs his hand through his hair, opening his mouth to speak.
Seungwoo beats him to it though. “They’re so plush, Seungsik-ah,” he whisper-talks, as if that’s a perfectly good explanation for what’s going on, as if Seungsik asked. He punctuates his words with a squeeze to one of Sejun’s thighs and Sejun moans, almost on command. Seungsik can’t see through the material of the leggings sticking to Sejun’s skin but he’s pretty sure Seungwoo just dug his fingers into old bruises, did so on purpose just to rile him up. And it works, because Seungsik’s nostrils flare and his hands ball up into fists at his side; he thinks Seungwoo doesn’t see it but his eyes dart down for the briefest of seconds and then his mouth curls into that infuriating smile he wears when he’s particularly proud of something.
It makes the weird monster inside Seungsik rear its head again, feeling like Seungwoo’s mocking him and dangling Sejun like this in front of him because he knows Seungsik won’t reach out and take. Sejun himself is oddly quiet, unfazed despite Seungsik walking in on them. He glances at the younger man and notices that his eyes are lidded, entire face flushed a pretty shade of pink and Seungsik’s insides twist—but not from bitterness this time.
Seungwoo ends up beckoning him closer. “Sit with us, Seungsikkie.” He pats the mattress between Sejun’s thighs and that finally gets a reaction out of him, an aborted noise that doesn’t quite sound like a protest.
He doesn’t intend to do it, but Seungsik’s legs carry him over nonetheless. It feels surreal, like he’s not in full control of his body when he approaches the bed, one knee in between Sejun’s own before he even realizes it. Up close, the rise and fall of Sejun’s chest is urgent, like he can’t get enough air into his lungs, and his fingers twitch aimlessly without anything to hold on to. Seungwoo’s silent behind him, just watching Seungsik with sharp, clear eyes, a stark contrast to Sejun’s heavy gaze or Seungsik’s hungry leer.
Sejun starts squirming between them, pushing his hips up into nothing as Seungsik rests his knee on the mattress. It makes the muscles in his thighs shift attractively, swelling under the lycra blend as he twists without even being touched, wanton and brash. Seungwoo hums under his breath, the sound apparently calming Sejun; he lays back down on the bed and settles on watching Seungsik, big glassy eyes boring into him until he feels like he’s the one pinned down between the two men, laid out for them to see.
His mouth runs dry when he looks back down, the swell of Sejun’s cock visible where his shirt doesn’t quite cover his crotch. Seungsik wants to look away, especially when it clicks that Sejun likes this, having somebody watch, or having Seungsik himself there—something that makes him feel hot all over, spine tingling at the thought that all of this was on purpose, for him, a clumsy attempt to make Seungsik notice, spur him into action and mess with his head until he snaps.
Without any sort of prompting, Seungsik hooks his fingers into Sejun’s waistband to tug it down. Above him, Seungwoo’s lips pull into a smirk, one that he hides into Sejun’s hair as he whispers something that doesn’t quite reach Seungsik; Sejun shudders but he raises his hips up obediently and then sits back down once the elastic is past his ass, letting Seungsik lift each of his legs as he undresses him.
Getting Sejun’s leggings off is a bit of an ordeal; Seungsik enjoys it more than he should when he finally peels the material off his thighs, spit pooling under his tongue as more and more of Sejun’s skin is revealed, mottled green and yellow and purple. Sejun’s not wearing anything under his leggings, just keeps the hem of his shirt down with trembling hands as Seungsik undresses him. His stomach churns and his cock stirs in his pants as the leggings get caught around Sejun’s ankles and he makes a tiny sound of impatience, one that’s got Seungwoo shushing him gently. That just adds more fuel to the fire burning quietly inside Seungsik, heat licking at the base of his spine when Seungwoo cups Sejun’s jaw and smooths his thumb over the corner of his mouth as well, turning his cheek into his chest.
Seungwoo’s other hand tugs the collar of Sejun’s shirt down and aside, revealing part of his shoulder and the curved wing of his collarbone. Seungsik’s hands feel laden where they’re still gripping Sejun’s thighs uselessly, eyes glued to the contrast between Sejun’s dark shirt and his skin.
“Do you want Seungsik-ah to kiss you here?” He noses into Sejun’s hair as he speaks, punctuating his words with a light tap of his index finger just under Sejun’s collarbone.
It takes Sejun a moment to answer, nodding his head at first before unclenching his jaw to talk. “Yes, yeah.” He sounds winded already, chest juddering with shallow breaths that don’t seem to fill up his lungs the way they’re supposed to.
Seungwoo turns towards Seungsik this time, the hand he had on Sejun curling into his shirt instead. He pulls Seungsik closer, makes him crowd Sejun against his chest as he slips the sleeve of Sejun’s shirt down his arm. Back bent, the angle feels uncomfortable on his spine when Seungsik dips his head to kiss along the muscle lining Sejun’s shoulder, a series of dry presses of lips trailing towards the base of his throat. He thinks he can see Sejun's pulse flutter when he nuzzles along the thick tendon in his neck, heartbeat hummingbird quick just under his skin; it makes him want to open his mouth wider, graze his teeth down the column of Sejun's throat, ready to bite. And Seungsik doesn't doubt the fact that Sejun would look even better with a few bruises ringed around his neck, guts burning at the thought of being the one who put them there, all under Seungwoo's watchful eye.
His clothed knee brushes against the soft skin of Sejun’s inner thigh when he shifts forward. Sejun surges up, almost knocking his head into Seungwoo’s with how jumpy he is and Seungsik’s got a quick apology on the tip of his tongue before it’s his turn to be shushed. He should be angry at the hand that comes up to tangle in his hair and press his head down firmly, lips molded to the side of Sejun’s neck, but a thready sigh coming from the man under him makes him forget everything.
“He’s got a sensitive neck, Sik-ah, and he bruises so prettily there too…” he muses, talking as if Sejun’s not right there between them. Seungsik has half a mind to ask if they’ve tried it before, if Seungwoo’s sunk his teeth into Sejun’s throat and then watched the bruises blossom and bloom right under his eyes. Instead, he noses down Sejun’s throat, from just under the knob of his jaw to the dip between his clavicles, keeping his mouth open so his breath washes heavy and hot over Sejun’s flesh, sucking gently on a few patches of skin when he thinks he can get away with it.
True to Seungwoo’s word, Sejun melts into him with a whiny noise and then thrashes almost violently, pushing his chest up towards Seungsik as his breath catches in his throat. Seungwoo laughs quietly and then turns Sejun’s head towards him for a kiss, one that Seungsik can’t see but that he hears perfectly; the slick sound of their lips connecting and then parting, Sejun’s shaky exhale that turns into a whine when Seungwoo snakes his hand down his body, petting his hip bone and grabbing his cock with loose fingers.
Seungsik wants to look so badly; he ignores the pang between his own legs as he rests his forehead on Sejun’s shoulder, trapping the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He’s seen Sejun naked before and caught a glimpse of his half-hard dick earlier, but it feels different to stare with intent, watch as Seungwoo jacks him off lazily. The tip of Sejun’s dick looks slick under the light in the room and Seungwoo taps his index finger against his pisshole a few times, lets the precome bubble there before stretching it between his digit and Sejun’s cock and smears it down his shaft when the thin strand breaks.
He instructs Seungsik to grab the lube from his bedside table, a bottle with labeling so discrete he mistakes it for hand cream at first. They all get a moment to breathe while Seungsik hands it over and Seungwoo pops the cap open, slicking his hand deliberately and pulling Sejun back towards him. He goes willingly and Seungsik has a few seconds to appreciate the picture they paint, Sejun half-naked and flushed and sweaty in Seungwoo’s lap, legs spread and cock laying on his hip while Seungwoo doesn’t even have a hair out of place. It makes him wonder what he might look like compared to them, suddenly aware of the way his shirt sticks to his back while his pants are tented obscenely.
Seungwoo wraps his long fingers around the base of Sejun's cock securely this time, holding it upright as it drips steadily onto his belly. He pushes Sejun’s shirt up, just enough so the hem won’t get sticky with precome, and moves his other palm right over Sejun’s ribs, pressing down into the space between them in tune with a song only he can hear. Seungsik puts his hands back on Sejun’s thighs and shivers when he chances a look up at him, seeing that his eyes are completely glazed over again, tongue lolling out of his mouth to lick his lips as if he wants to talk. Instead, he shifts his thighs under Seungsik and then makes a keening sound that goes straight to his cock, spreading his legs lazily to accommodate Seungsik between them better. One of his hands creeps down and he grips the underside of his thigh, tugging on the skin until Seungsik can just see the shadowed furl of his hole nestled between his cheeks. He assumes Seungsik wants to fuck him and the room starts spinning for Seungsik when he makes that connection, letting his head fall forward with a groan as he grasps at Sejun’s legs with trembling fingers.
“Ah, Sejunnie… Seungsikkie-hyung just wants to use your thighs, baby. Think you can let him do that?”
If Sejun gives Seungwoo a verbal response, it goes completely unnoticed by Seungsik. He feels hot all over, barely managing to breathe through his nose at the implication that he’s there to be more than just a spectator. He only realizes that the grip he has on Sejun tightens because the man jerks under him, so hard Seungsik’s arms shake with it as well; he barely manages to unclench his fingers, too turned on to think straight. There’s a band around his chest that’s getting tighter by the minute and his vision narrows down to a single point, a beauty mark just on the inside of Sejun’s leg, bordered by a blue-green bruise.
Seungwoo clicks open the bottle of lube again, letting the liquid pool in his hand and slathering it over the inside of Sejun’s thighs deliberately. Seungsik has it in him to wince in sympathy when Sejun gasps, mouth opening around the silent sound before he bites down on his thick bottom lip. Belatedly, it dawns to Seungsik that he’s about to fuck Sejun’s thighs before getting to kiss him, although he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to do that. He chooses to sit up on his knees and busy himself with his pants and underwear, bunching both around his thighs as he takes himself in hand, wishing Seungwoo hadn’t thrown the lube somewhere behind him.
A shaky hand reaches out and touches his hip while Seungsik contemplates leaning over the men in front of him to look for the bottle. It startles him, especially when he looks down and sees that it’s Sejun staring at him from under his lashes, eyes a bit clearer than they were before. He holds his other palm in front of him, hovering over Seungsik’s cock, angled just the right way for Seungsik to see that he’s slicked it up. He gives a tiny nod and that’s all Sejun needs before he curls his fingers around Seungsik’s length, prompting a hiss from him at the initial contact.
His touch is light and unsure, unfamiliar with what Seungsik likes when he gets off, but all the more exciting for that exact reason. Sejun looks up at him and his lips part automatically as he works his fist over Seungsik’s cock, gaining enough courage to squeeze the base on the downstroke after a while. Seungsik makes an appreciative noise at that, longing to fuck his hips up into Sejun’s touch and maybe knock his hand closer to his plush mouth, feverishly thinking about getting Sejun to suck him off until his chin is dripping with spit.
Seungwoo stops them both, grabbing Sejun’s wrist and pulling him off Seungsik gently. He presses a kiss to Sejun’s sweaty temple and then positions him in his lap again, finally making a sound when Sejun’s ass rubs against his crotch. Seungsik would snort and comment on that if he were in a different state of mind but he can still feel the phantom sensation of Sejun’s fingers on him and he’s shaking again when Seungwoo helps Sejun lift his leg up, tugging Seungsik closer.
The underside of his knee fits perfectly over Seungsik’s shoulder; it’s not exactly what he had in mind, but Seungsik doesn’t think to complain. He makes a sound deep in his chest at the first graze of his cock against Sejun’s thigh, shivering as he drags his shaft along the column of muscle. Sejun makes a noise as well, legs twitching feebly, and Seungwoo goes back to touching his cock, fingers tight around the root as Seungsik begins to move. He slips and his dick barely touches anything for a few frustrating moments, eyebrows furrowing when he can’t seem to set a rhythm. It happens again, and then again, and it’s enough to make Seungsik snarl at nothing in particular, face twisting into something that’s got Sejun gasping under him.
He pauses for a moment, changes angles. Holds Sejun’s leg up with a hand on his knee and the other wrapped around his thigh, nails digging into unmarred skin and old bruises alike. It still barely brings him any relief to rut his cock up along the soft inside of Sejun’s leg, hips aching where he’s trying to align himself to Sejun’s body properly, but he knows that he’ll eventually come like this, no matter how uncomfortable the position is for him. Seungwoo interrupts him with a soft hand on his forearm and Seungsik’s ready to growl at him for breaking up his already pathetic rhythm until he sees Seungwoo trying to close Sejun’s legs, slipping it off Seungsik’s shoulder and into the crook of his arm, bringing his knees together and trapping Seungsik’s cock between them. A full body shiver goes through Sejun at that, one that Seungsik feels all too well where he’s pressed up against him so intimately; he wets his lips and goes back to thrusting into the glossy seam of Sejun’s thighs with shaky motions, balance upset, watching his cockhead disappear between his bruised thighs from a new angle. Nearing orgasm, Seungsik can only think about covering the marks left by Seungwoo with his own, letting his come splatter over Sejun’s skin to hide them, completely forgetting about Seungwoo helping with this, offering Sejun on a silver platter for him to pluck and fuck.
The thought makes him feel dirty as much as it turns him on and he squeezes Sejun harder, until the bone in his knee creaks under his palm and the pressure around his cock increases, impossibly tight and just on the edge of pain. He doesn’t pay attention to the noises coming from Sejun, whimpers that barely filter up him through the sound of his own harsh breathing and the blood rushing in his ears, but Seungsik throws his head back when he comes, catching a glimpse of Sejun’s flushed neck, his rosy cheeks and sweat-matted hair before he closes his eyes and groans low in his throat, hips stuttering where he’s still slowly fucking between his legs.
Looking down while catching his breath was a mistake; Seungsik chokes on nothing as he notes the mess he’s made of Sejun, pink raised lines where his nails dragged along the skin of his knees and a few reddened spots peeking through the come spilled on his thighs. Some of it made it onto Sejun’s stomach but most is splashed across Seungwoo’s knuckles where they’re still circling Sejun’s cock and embarrassment fills Seungsik in place of the arousal he felt before. He quickly tucks himself back into his pants, thankful for not having to deal with any cleanup, and only manages to nearly fall off the bed once before going back to sitting between Sejun’s legs.
Seungwoo doesn’t seem bothered by it; he moves his fingers so they’re fanned around Sejun’s length instead of just his base, peeking at Seungsik over Sejun’s shoulder. There’s a whine building up behind Sejun’s teeth and Seungwoo kisses his cheek, voice low when he speaks into Sejun’s ear. Seungsik doesn’t hear it but he goes with it when Seungwoo grabs his hand with his come-streaked fingers, trembles when Seungwoo guides him towards Sejun’s leaky cock.
The angle is awkward. His nails catch on Seungwoo’s palm whenever they get out of sync and Seungwoo’s fingers are too long, wrapping around the girth of Sejun’s cock almost entirely. But the way Sejun’s covering his face and whimpering quietly, chest hitching whenever they both squeeze him just right makes it all worth it. Precome drips down their knuckles in a steady stream, Sejun’s cock so fucking wet Seungsik wonders if he ever needed any lube in the first place. From time to time his hips snap up and it messes up their rhythm, keeps happening more and more as Sejun gets closer to his tipping point, growing louder, curling his fists into the sheets to ground himself. Seungwoo just laughs mutely and lets Seungsik stroke him while he rubs the pad of his thumb over Sejun’s tip, free hand slipping between his legs to toy with the skin behind his balls, pressing down just once. It’s enough to make Sejun go rigid, back arching prettily as he comes into the palm Seungwoo has cupped over his tip, praise pouring out of his mouth in a steady stream that makes Seungsik blush, spine tingling again. He feels a bit out of place watching this—like he’s intruding on a moment not meant for his eyes and he averts his gaze, wondering if it’s weird to just get up and leave.
Seungwoo saves him from having to do anything. Sejun’s sprawling in his lap again, completely boneless by the looks of it. His cock is still half-hard and he shudders when he passes his palm over his own length, trying to close his legs and shield it from view.
“Help me clean him up?” Seungwoo’s voice breaks him out of his staring contest with Sejun’s dick and Seungsik nods, getting up to look for a towel. He doesn’t find one but Seungwoo points him towards a shirt hanging off the back of his chair and there’s a pack of wet wipes on the desk that he grabs as well, returning to the bed once he has both items. He puts the wet wipes next to Sejun’s knee and grabs a couple for himself, parting Sejun’s thighs with a gentle hand. He feels responsible for the mess he left there, already tacky and uncomfortably sticky, and he does his best to be careful while cleaning Sejun up, mindful of the bruises littering his skin.
When they’re both done, the room falls silent again. Sejun seems to have dozed off at some point and Seungwoo lays his shirt over his crotch to cover him up. Seungsik feels that he should go and let Seungwoo get some sleep as well, air out the room or something, but he knows they still have to talk about what happened. Preferably when Sejun is awake as well.
He’s brought back to the present when Seungwoo starts talking. “This was my idea, you know.” He speaks softly, so as to not wake Sejun up, and his voice is calm but there’s a defensive note to it. “He told me he wanted you, and I thought it would be a good idea to tease you—both of you—like this,” his fingers comb through Sejun’s hair as he speaks, lifting up the limp strands before smoothing them back down.
Seungsik’s heart swells in his chest. He recognizes this as Seungwoo trying to protect Sejun and he feels bad for the way he stormed in, knowing he had to look thunderous when he first entered their room. Seungsik doesn’t know if it’s because he’s tired or if his orgasm took the edge off his feelings and left him more mellow, but he finds it in him to joke about it.
“I thought it was Subin that did it,” he scratches his neck sheepishly as Seungwoo chuckles. “That would’ve been a different conversation.”
In the end, he leaves Seungwoo’s room and enters his own, doing his best to not wake Chan up. He grabs a change of clothes and heads towards the bathroom to shower, ready to put the entire day behind him—though he knows that tomorrow he’ll have to face it all again, as well as figure out what to do with the fact that Sejun wants him and that he’s also involved with Seungwoo. Thoughts swirl around in his head as Seungsik sits under the spray and he almost lets himself fall down that rabbit hole; an easy trap leading him down a path of sleeplessness that he’d rather not take.
Exiting the shower, he resists the urge to shake his head and spray water all over the bathroom. The mirror is fogged up and Seungsik can just make out the shape of his body, a featureless blob that stares back at him with unseeing eyes. He puts his sleep clothes on, drops his dirty shirt into the hamper and exits the bathroom as quietly as he’s entered it.
The range hood lights are on in the kitchen when he gets back. Hanse’s leaning against the table, deep in thought, glass of water next to him. His phone chimes but he pays it no mind, only looking up when Seungsik walks into view.
“Busy night, hyung? Don’t stay up late,” he sounds far off and distant and there’s no way he knows what Seungsik got up to earlier, but it still makes a shiver go down his spine. He just hums in agreement and hurries towards his room, eager to get some sleep, leaving Hanse alone to do whatever it is that he does in the middle of the night.