Archive of Our Own

Yoongi's chest was still heaving when he said: "I think it's time."

Namjoon opened his eyes. "For what?"

"To find another suitable dick."

He fisted a hand into Yoongi's dark locks and tugged harshly. Yoongi grunted, lifting his head off of Namjoon's chest and repositioned himself so they were looking at each other.

"You couldn’t have waited with that until my dick’s no longer up your ass?"

Yoongi had never been great at basking in the afterglow. Namjoon watched him sit up and regard the sticky mess he'd left on Namjoon's stomach. And on his own. Someone else would have wrinkled their nose in slight distaste whereas Yoongi looked like a cat that had gotten the cream, a glint in the eye, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. But at Namjoon's words, he huffed and patted Namjoon’s chest.

"It’s not a critique. I hate to say this but,” and here he sighed theatrically, “it's not you. It's me."

The moment Namjoon's soft cock slipped out of him with a slick noise, Yoongi gave a minute wince. Namjoon grabbed him by the waist and, in one swift motion, rolled them over so it was Namjoon who hovered over Yoongi's form now.

"It's not your fault that you don't have two dicks, Joonie."

Yoongi's face betrayed no emotion. If it weren't for the sweat on his brow or the ruddy cheeks, one might have assumed they hadn't just fucked and that Yoongi hadn’t let Namjoon raw him, casually leaking onto the bed sheets that needed to be changed anyway. As they came down from their high, Namjoon began to notice the sting from the claw marks Yoongi had left on his chest. They were starting to surface as red welts as Yoongi had almost drawn blood. (And yet he denied his likeness to felines.)

Namjoon stared at him.

"Don't act as if I'm the only one into it. I know you've gotten off to the thought of letting a stranger have me. Like I'm just a fuck toy that you own," Yoongi said, voice bored but gaze piercing through him.

What could he say? Guilty as charged, your Honor.

Namjoon sat back on his haunches and pressed one of Yoongi's knees into his chest. He ignored the resulting hiss in favour of inspecting Yoongi's ass, the glowing red heat his skin gave off. He let his fingertips brush against the marks.

"Want me to put aloe on that?"

Heavy-lidded eyes blinked at him lazily. Yoongi didn't answer in favour of allowing Namjoon to indulge in the moment. Until he reached out his arms.

Namjoon met him halfway.

Yoongi kissed him. "After the shower, yeah. Need to clean your come out of my ass." 

Namjoon scoffed and kissed him back, dipping into Yoongi's swollen mouth, tongue brushing against his upper teeth. Before Yoongi could complain, Namjoon already leaned back, satisfied at the shine on Yoongi's lips. "Love you too, hyung."

Yoongi hummed in response. 

***

“You’re distracted, hyung.”

Yoongi froze. He looked down at his hand and realized he’d been stirring his coffee for the better part if not for all of their conversation. Sheepish, he cleared his throat. “Sorry, Hoba. What were you saying?”

Hoseok sounded amused. “I was telling you about how the nail technician accidentally glued my fingers together but it’s fine. What’s going on?”

Yoongi leaned his head against the kitchen cupboard, phone in his hand. “Was up too long, I guess.”

“Didn’t you say Joonie’s snoring has gotten better?”

Yoongi snorted. “Yeah, but that’s not why I was up.” He continued to talk even over Hoseok’s teasing whistle. “No, I wasn’t up because we were fucking either, stop it.”

Hoseok broke out into high-pitched laughter. “That’s a first.”

He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his lukewarm coffee. Ugh, disappointing. “I was actually swiping through Jack’d and Grindr and trying not to throw up at all the things I had to witness with my own eyes.” 

Yoongi perked up at a crash in the background. “Hoba?”

More muffled sounds followed and then, slightly breathless, Hoseok asked: “Min Yoongi, why the fuck are you looking at gay dating apps?”

“We’re looking for someone to join us for a threesome.”

“Oh. Damn. Sometimes I forget that’s a thing.”

“What? Threesomes?”

Hoseok made a noise as if deep in thought. “Hook-ups with strangers.” Yoongi imagined how his perpetually smiling lips were pulled down now, wearing an expression of genuine aversion without even realising it. “I’m too ace for that shit. Or too sex-repulsed. I’m both. Anyway, tell me more. I can,” he fake-gagged, “take it.”

Yoongi patiently waited for Hoseok to be done with his little stageplay. He shrugged. “There’s nothing much to say. I wanna take two dicks at once and Joon’s fine with it.”

A pause. “Jesus, okay. But you’re so—”

“Don’t,” Yoongi warned.

“—tiny and Namjoon already has a monster cock. Have you been training your asshole, or what?”

Yoongi didn’t answer.

“Why did I even ask when I know that you own a dildo with a goddamn knot,” Hoseok deadpanned. “You know what? Live, laugh, love, I guess. Follow your dreams, hyung. Good luck finding someone. You’re both conventionally attractive, you shouldn’t have to look too long for a fitting… wait.”

Yoongi, who had been quietly laughing to himself, halted.

"Wait, I might know someone.”

Oh god, no. He groaned.

"Hoba, no.”

“Seriously, I know a guy!”

“You always say that and it's fine when it's about, I don't fucking know, someone wanting to buy our old TV but—”

“No, hyung, trust me on this,” Hoseok protested. “You know how I had to get a new dogsitter after the last one went to jail, and I swear you’d love him.”

Yoongi closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. “Uh-huh.”

“He’s hot!”

“He might not even be into men.”

Hoseok snorted on the other end of the line. “Please, I know someone’s good at sucking dick when I see them. Also, aren’t all the kids queer nowadays?” The genuine tone in his voice worried Yoongi.

As if speaking of the devil, Yoongi heard the unmistakable sound of a doorbell ringing on the other end of the line. Hoseok called out into his apartment.

”Jungkookie? You’re back? Yeah, yeah, just leave his leash by the door. Can you come here for a second? I have a question for you.”

Yoongi slapped his flat palm against the counter. “Jung Hoseok,” he hissed.

“Shh, hyung. Let me handle this.”

Tempted to hang up, Yoongi tried to remind himself of the reasons why he shouldn’t. One, because Hoba is your best friend and two, because, despite all, you love him. Three…

He couldn’t think of anything else.

“Everything alright, hyung?”

Holy shit, how old was this guy? He sounded way too young.

Like one of Pavlov’s puppies, Yoongi instantly smiled at Hoseok’s laugh. 

“Yes, everything’s fine. But I was wondering if you would potentially be interested in a threesome.” A pause. “Not with me, with a married couple I’m friends with. They’re both men.”

“Uh. ”

Hoseok wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “Let me show you a picture! You follow me on Instagram, right? Did you see the post I made about the aerial yoga workshop? Yeah, they’re that couple posing in the yoga sling.”

The front door opened and in strode his saviour. 

Yoongi stood from his chair and walked up to Namjoon, unceremoniously handing him his phone before Namjoon could even say hi or put his bag down, coat still on his shoulders. “Please take this. Thank you.”

He gave Namjoon’s arm a pat alongside his signature bracketed smile. Without another word he turned around and left Namjoon alone in the hallway. 

Namjoon tugged his scarf free from his neck and held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Namjoonie! Just right on time. Listen, I want you to meet someone.”

***

Settled on the couch, they had long abandoned the documentary streaming on their TV a while ago. Yoongi’s head lay on Namjoon’s shoulder, his legs thrown over his husband’s lap. Ghostly light illuminated their faces as Namjoon scrolled through a social media profile on his phone.

Just when Yoongi wanted to make a comment, a video on Jungkook’s Instagram profile started auto-playing. Namjoon had the volume turned low but Yoongi didn’t need the audio to process the visuals.

“Huh,” Yoongi said.

Namjoon ran his fingers through the hair at the back of Yoongi’s neck, hand settled on his nape. They continued to watch the clip where Jungkook sparred with another guy, delivering hit after hit in rapid succession. His dark hair fell into his eyes in sweaty strands and Yoongi couldn’t stop picturing the same image but in a different context. In the first sequence, Jungkook wore a tank that exposed his defined arms before the video cut straight to what must have been another training session since he now wore a regular shirt. 

However, Jungkook and his partner had switched sides, exposing a full sleeve tattoo.

“He looks good,” Namjoon commented.

He did. Yoongi squinted as the video looped, taking in Jungkook’s full body. Not only was he hot, he was cute too. A face mask concealed the lower half of his face but the slope of his nose made Yoongi want to bite it. Every time Jungkook finished another of the rapid-fire combinations, he gave a little vindictive shout, eyes gleaming in excitement. He couldn’t help but think Jungkook would be ambitious in bed.

Yoongi cursed under his breath.

Namjoon locked his phone and put it aside. He looked down at Yoongi’s face with a little knowing smile. “Why are you pouting?”

“I hate it when Hoseok’s right.”

Namjoon shrugged. “He’s known you for almost a decade. It’s cute how you still grumble about it.”

“I don’t grumble,” Yoongi grumbled. “As if you’re not into this.” He gestured towards Namjoon’s phone. “I’ve seen the type of porn you watch.”

“And here I thought you just know me so well because we’ve been married for five years.”

Yoongi shifted and pulled his legs from Namjoon’s lap, climbing on it instead. He threw his arms around Namjoon’s shoulders, rolling his hips forward, pressing their lower halves flush together. “Did you condition me into wanting to fuck you every time you bring that up, Namjoonie?”

Namjoon’s smile widened. Even after all this time the sight of his dimples still made Yoongi’s heart squeeze. Ugh. It didn’t help at all that Namjoon was wearing his glasses too. Glasses that he moved to take off as if they had all the time in the world and Yoongi didn’t want to be kissed right now.

Yoongi leaned forward but Namjoon easily kept him at distance with a hand at his sternum. “So, should we propose dinner?”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered back and forth between Namjoon’s eyes and lips. He squirmed in Namjoon’s lap, pressing his ass against Namjoon’s groin. “Sure.”

"But nothing too fancy. Something casual, so we can leave in case it should go wrong.”

“Namjoon.”

“Something lowkey and a little secluded so we can talk without having to watch what we’re saying. So you can tell him just exactly what you want.”

Yoongi pushed back against Namjoon’s hold. “He already knows it’s a threesome.”

Finally, Namjoon let up. Their breaths mingled with how close they were. Yoongi wanted to melt against his warmth, lean into it, nip at Namjoon’s jaw and lips. He closed his eyes, ready—

“So you can tell him that you’re so desperate to be stuffed with cock that one isn’t enough anymore.” Namjoon brushed his thumb over Yoongi’s cupid’s bow. “That the first time you pushed a toy into your sloppy hole when you were already being fucked you got so overwhelmed you cried.” 

Yoongi sneered. His breath caught in his throat when he went to deliver a biting answer but Namjoon pushed his thumb into his mouth and down on his tongue, effectively shutting him up. 

“Tell him that you need to be full so badly your husband has to finger you open in the middle of the day and put a plug inside of you so you can stop thinking about how empty you are.” 

Yoongi was hard in his sweatpants.

“I think Jungkookie would like to hear that, don’t you?”

“Fuck you,” he spat around Namjoon’s finger.

Namjoon withdrew his thumb, swiping the saliva on Yoongi’s cheek before placing a chaste kiss over the wet spot. He smiled. “Later, love.”

***

“So, you’re married.”

Yoongi glanced down. He didn’t wear his wedding ring thanks to his wire-barbed brain, its synapses shot ever since he was a young teenager. Taking the ring on and off whenever he washed his hands, and he did so often thanks to one of his oldest compulsions, had become a fucking bother. After the second time he forgot the ring in a public restroom, first at an airport, then at work, Yoongi came to realize he would sooner or later lose it if he kept this up. In the end, he pulled on his big boy pants and told Namjoon, avoiding his eyes during the whole conversation.

Across from them sat Jeon Jungkook, twenty-four, graduate student, gym rat. What Yoongi had failed to notice priorly were the piercings adorning his features. His right hand showed an assortment of tattoos, small symbols that Yoongi couldn’t make out considering Jungkook didn’t really keep his hands still. It made Yoongi want to take the coffee away from him. But if he started with that coddling shit now he knew that he definitely would not be able to take him seriously.

“Yeah,” Namjoon answered.

“Why?”

Yoongi choked on his drink. “ Why? ”

Jungkook shrugged. “Just wondering. Since you’re gay and marriage is pretty outdated anyway. Especially considering it supports a government that lowkey hates us.”

Yoongi swayed forward, feeling a little bit unhinged. “Are you trying to shit-talk my marriage right in front of me?”

Namjoon put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re married because we love each other,” he said as if he were talking to a child.

Jungkook pulled a face. “Okay.”

For fuck’s sake. “What about you, Jungkook-ah? Are you in a relationship?” Yoongi asked with an exaggerated smile.

“I wouldn’t be here if I were.”

Yoongi’s left eyelid was beginning to twitch. “I’m married and still want to fuck someone else.”

Jungkook’s smile was smug. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “But your husband’s doing it with you.”

If the cup of coffee Yoongi nursed were made from some eco-fucking-friendly compostable material, he’d have squished it by now. Alas, he’d have to throw the mug to the ground in order for the ceramic to break. “I can’t believe Hoseok thought we’d get along.”

“Actually, Hoseok hyung said I’d get on your nerves but that you’d like it no matter how much you acted like you didn’t.”

I’m going to strangle both of them, Yoongi thought. Without another comment, he shrugged the hand off his shoulder and turned to Namjoon. “Do you perhaps want to say something?”

The window next to their booth had fogged over. Outside, rain streamed down the streets, turning neon signs and headlights into glowing dots of colour. They were both wearing black, Yoongi in one of his many hoodies while Namjoon had opted for a skintight turtleneck. Every now and then during this late stage of their relationship, Yoongi would look over at Namjoon and see him as if for the first time. 

The irritation bled out of him.

“I like him.”

Nevermind. That backstabbing son of a–

Jungkook’s features lit up.

“You said you’re studying Entertainment?” Namjoon asked.

Jungkook nodded eagerly. “Yeah, but my focus is on music education.”

Namjoon met Yoongi’s stare. “He reminds me of someone I met at college.” The specific glint in his eyes was enough for Yoongi to get the hint. He tried to convey what he thought of Namjoon’s comparison with a glare but now that he had planted the idea in Yoongi’s head he couldn’t help but remember how often he’d been called a smartass during his early adult years. He resorted to grunting half-heartedly.

“Hyung studied sound engineering and I did literature and composition. We both work as producers now.”

Yoongi didn’t think it possible but Jungkook’s expression got even brighter. “That’s amazing,” he exhaled, clearly enthused. And with the bite and snark gone, Yoongi reconsidered the man in front of him, how an entire person with dreams and fears hid behind Jungkook’s outward appearance.

He kept his voice quiet. “It’s alright.”

Namjoon laughed, putting an arm loosely around Yoongi’s waist, a subtle display of affection. “Music is his whole life.”

When Yoongi averted his eyes from the fondness on Namjoon’s face he found Jungkook smiling at him too. For a reason he didn’t want to explore he could feel himself getting flustered, shoulders pulling up.

“Can we get back to why we are here?”

“Yes. Why are we here?” Namjoon said as if he didn’t know.

Yoongi leaned against the backrest and exhaled with a sigh. “Generally speaking, you’d be up for this?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I mean you’re both hot so yeah.”

“You know we’re older than you?”

“Yes, but you’re not that much older. Not so much that it would be creepy.” Suddenly, Jungkook tilted his head, eyebrows raised. “Is this about the age gap? Because I don’t think I could call you ‘daddy.’ I’m not really into that.”

“Neither of us wants to be called ‘daddy,’” Yoongi deadpanned.

“Speak for yourself.”

They both turned towards Namjoon who seemed to find their exchange rather funny.

“I’m kidding.”

“Uh-huh,” Yoongi said, slowly turning back to Jungkook while keeping his eyes on Namjoon still. “Anyway. No, it’s not about the age gap.” He took a deep breath, clearing his thoughts. He wasn’t embarrassed to speak so frankly about sex, at least not with Namjoon or his friends, but in front of Jungkook he did have to steel himself for a moment. “How big are you?”

Namjoon, with his hand still at the small of his back, dug his fingers into Yoongi’s muscles. Be nice, he imagined him saying.

“Wh-what?”

“Your dick, Jungkook-ah.”

If the light in the diner wasn’t betraying him, Yoongi could make out a dusting of pink on Jungkook’s cheeks. Now it was his turn to smile.

“Is that– is that really relevant?”

“You see,” Yoongi began. “Neither Namjoon nor I would usually care but we have a specific thing in mind for which–”

Namjoon cut in. “Hyung wants to get double-penetrated.”

“Oh.”

“And because I’m already above average we can’t have you be too well-endowed or hyung won’t be able to take us.”

Jungkook’s eyes were boring holes into Yoongi while Yoongi’s stare was fixed on a point behind him.

“Two. At the same time.”

Namjoon nodded.

“Oh, wow.” Jungkook paused, and then: “Wow. Okay. Cool.” Cool. “I can get behind that. But…” He directed the question at Namjoon, voice lowered. “He’s so…”

“If you say ‘small’ I will bite your dick off when it’s in my mouth,” Yoongi said.

“That is to say, it won’t be an issue. As long as you’re not packing in girth,” Namjoon translated.

“Uh.” Jungkook scratched at the back of his head. “I’m average? Maybe a bit longer. I can send you a pic if you want.”

Namjoon waved him off. “Longer is fine. And sure. You don’t have to, though.”

Jungkook nodded. He was rolling his bottom lip between his teeth which was extremely distracting. The ensuing silence wasn’t awkward but a sense of tension hung between them. Yoongi endured it for a few more seconds before he huffed.

“Jungkook-ah, take your time to think about it and if you’re still up for this you can get our numbers from Hoseok. We won’t be offended if you change your mind.” And looking at Namjoon he added: “I think I’m done with social interactions for this week.”

***

When the door opened, the greeting got stuck in Jungkook’s throat.

Namjoon was wearing a shirt with short sleeves.

He wasn’t sure where to settle his eyes. On the seemingly endless planes of uncovered skin, the prominent muscle of his upper arms, or the way the material of the shirt stretched across Namjoon’s tits. Fuck.

“Hi, Jungkook. Come in.”

There was no way in hell he didn’t know what he looked like. It almost made Jungkook angry.

He shuffled past the doorway and toed his shoes off. It was quiet in their apartment. The tension Jungkook became acutely aware of wasn’t eased by Namjoon just standing there, leaning against the wall as he watched Jungkook take off his jacket.

He straightened again, holding onto the strap of his bag. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to stay but just in case…”

Namjoon smiled, only one corner of his mouth lifting. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He sounded amused. “Pretty sure hyung won’t let you leave.” With his chin, he motioned for Jungkook to follow him after he pushed off the wall.

“Nervous?”

The lighting had been dimmed. From what Jungkook knew he had expected the married couple to be pretty well off, but damn. Considering the open space was filled with elegant design pieces, countered by supple accents like the lush giant rug his feet now hit… they must be fucking loaded.

Jungkook shrugged, still craning his neck left and right. “Not really. More excited. Where’s Yoongi hyung?”

Namjoon laughed softly.

Jungkook stopped surveying their apartment and looked at Namjoon. He tilted his head. “What?”

“Excited,” Namjoon repeated. His hair had been brushed back but a few strands framed his face. In the low light the sharpness of his jawline stood out, just like the set of his lips.

Jungkook gulped.

“Wouldn’t have been my answer but then you and I are a bit different.”

He frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Although Namjoon did not take a single step closer to Jungkook, the sole action of him crossing his arms had Jungkook feel cornered. “For one, I’m a little older than you.”

That again.

“I’ve been together with hyung long enough to know what he’s like out of, but especially in bed. With you? I don’t. But I do have an inkling.”

Jungkook’s nose itched. He wanted to scrunch it up but he willed his face to remain passive. The moment stretched, them staring at each other, only broken by Jungkook clearing his throat. “So, where is he?”

Namjoon pointed to a door down the hall. “Taking a shower. It’s an ensuite.”

Jungkook decided he didn’t have to wait for explicit permission. 

He pushed the door to the bedroom open, eyes immediately drawn to the steam escaping from the adjoined bathroom before he took in the rest of it. His eyes widened.

“Are you kidding me? That bed is huge!”

He promptly ran his fingers over the bedding.

“Thank you. It was expensive as fuck.”

Jungkook’s head whipped up.

“Yoongi hyung.”

His hair was still wet. A large black shirt hung onto his frame but what Jungkook certainly did not expect was to be confronted with so much leg at once. Yoongi wore only a pair of dark boxers. His gaze was unreadable. “I see you’ve made it.”

Jungkook couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was his hyung, yes, but—the pink of his flushed knees did nothing to soften the blow. At their first meeting he’d noticed Yoongi’s set of shoulders, obvious even against his larger (in every aspect, maybe?) husband, but now all Jungkook did think was… how delicate.

“If you keep staring at my legs like that I’ll just put my pants back on.”

He lifted his gaze like a deer caught in headlights. “Sorry.”

“Aw, hyung.” Namjoon moved, joining Yoongi, snaking an arm around his waist. “But they’re so pretty.” He leaned down to press a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek. Yoongi pulled a face. They looked so domestic, and yet—

Namjoon’s hand wandered to Yoongi’s lower belly, resting there. Yoongi tilted his head back and immediately Namjoon claimed his lips. Jungkook didn’t avert his eyes. 

“You haven’t kissed him yet, have you?” Yoongi asked.

Namjoon shook his head. It took Jungkook a second to realize Yoongi was talking about him. He became acutely aware of their positions, how he was standing across both of them, almost presented on a silver tablet.

“I was waiting for you.”

And then they turned towards Jungkook.

“Jungkook-ah.” Yoongi’s register fell naturally low. It carried through the room no matter how quietly he spoke. “Would you like a kiss hello?”

Jungkook didn’t even hesitate. Of course he wanted them to kiss him. He nodded vigorously. “Yeah.”

Namjoon kissed him first. One of his palms cupped Jungkook’s jaw and slightly tilted it up but when Jungkook closed his eyes only warm breath fanned across his face. He blinked them open again with a confused noise, met Namjoon’s delighted features. 

Jungkook rose to the challenge.

Namjoon went along with Jungkook’s bout of decisiveness, brushing their lips against each other, but it wasn’t what Jungkook wanted. He recalled the amused smile with which Namjoon had regarded him during both their meetings. His irritation came back with a vengeance, unnerved at the little game he had been made a part of without knowing. So he drew back with a huff. “Kiss me back like you mean it, hyung.” And then he nipped at Namjoon’s fat bottom lip, hoping to see it redden and glaze over with spit soon.

Namjoon laughed and Jungkook felt the vibrations against his lips. The next time Jungkook’s tongue darted out, he groaned when Namjoon claimed his mouth with force, self-assured in a way Jungkook could only pretend to be. Soon he struggled to keep up with what he had commanded Namjoon to do and when they parted, they did so with a wet pop. Or rather, only when Namjoon finally deemed him thoroughly kissed did he release Jungkook.

Jungkook tried to catch his breath.

Namjoon smiled at him. The hand at his jaw moved to pat his cheek a few times with barely concealed condescension.

“Good?”

Jungkook looked at Namjoon’s lips. They were a little swollen, a little wet. But his own face felt twice as hot as it had been before.

“Good,” he rasped.

Their attention was caught by movement at the side.

“Oh, no, no, don’t mind me. I’m fine just watching,” Yoongi said. He had climbed onto the bed, kneeling amidst the pillows near the headboard. He gestured vaguely towards Namjoon and Jungkook.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, then reached out a hand. “Wouldn’t want you to feel neglected.”

“I’m not feeling neglected. You look very hot. Eating Jungkook-ah’s face like that.”

Jungkook decided to ignore the comment and raised an eyebrow at Yoongi who was still sitting too far away. “I wanna kiss you too.”

Yoongi looked from Namjoon over to Jungkook. If Namjoon kissed like that… he wondered whether Yoongi would balance out his husband. But then Yoongi lifted his chin slightly, so small all alone at the top of the bed, and said: “Then come kiss me.”

So Jungkook did.

Maybe he had gotten the wrong impression. Because when Jungkook’s hand settled at Yoongi’s waist, Yoongi in turn slid one bold hand under his shirt, the other palming the side of his neck.

Yoongi opened up to him right away. He might have stuck to his disinterested demeanor at the diner but sheltered by the walls of their bedroom Jungkook had no doubt that Yoongi was into this, was into him. Because he licked into Jungkook’s mouth as if he had always been set out to do so, suck on his tongue, make it messy.

Yoongi’s eyes were dark when they eventually had to catch their breath.

“Is there something you don’t want to do?”

Jungkook turned back to Namjoon.

“Limits, places you don’t want to be touched?”

Jungkook shook his head. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something. What about you?”

Yoongi crawled closer to Namjoon, pulling at the strings of his sweatpants. He hovered over Jungkook’s waistband next, meeting his eyes.

“This is supposed to be pretty straightforward. You,” Yoongi said, and popped the button of Jungkook’s jeans, “fuck me. At any point you don’t want to anymore, for any reason, we stop. Condoms are a must.” The muscles on his stomach jumped when Yoongi splayed his fingers over his pelvis, fingertips grazing his briefs. The angle was a bit off, Yoongi having to bend his wrist to reach inside his pants, but then he was cupping Jungkook through the fabric where he was still mostly soft. His heart picked up its pace, a breath punched out of him when his cock gave a twitch at the almost possessive grip, instantly chubbing up. 

“Sensitive?” Yoongi muttered, the question not needing an answer. “Joonie here is a bit kinky. He likes it when people get off on pleasing him. So he sometimes tells me what to do. Doesn’t mean I’ll just do it, though.”

Jungkook found himself gazing at Namjoon once again who was watching them calmly.

Yoongi extracted his hand, lifting the elastic band of his briefs and letting it snap back into place. 

“And what do you like, hyung?” He sounded hoarse to his own ears. Yoongi was so close that he inhaled a hint of the products he must have used in the shower. Clean soap, a hint of sweetness. It made Jungkook want to tear the rest of the clothing off of him.

Yoongi blinked at him. His lips parted, ready to speak, but Namjoon beat him to it.

“Hyung really likes to suck cock. And I know that ever since you sent us that picture he’s been thinking about it.”

Yoongi froze; his fingertips stopped toying with Jungkook’s waistband. The ensuing silence felt endless. And then Yoongi sat back. “Take your pants off. Both of you. Now.”

Namjoon laughed. “Yessir.”

Still stuck on the information Namjoon just revealed, Jungkook quickly slipped out of his jeans. “I wouldn’t have known. You didn’t even react to it.”

“It was a dick pic, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi snapped at him. “What did you want us to say?”

He tried to go for a pout but couldn’t withhold his grin. Honestly, he didn’t even try. “I wanted my own pics in return.”

“You can just say you want to see our dicks.”

Jungkook perked up. “I thought that was a given!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, wearing a smirk of his own, when Namjoon grabbed Yoongi’s ankle and yanked. Yoongi slid forward, automatically falling back against the pillows, legs spreading.

“There you go,” Namjoon mused.

Eager, Jungkook turned to Yoongi, inching between his legs. “Can I, hyung?”

Yoongi answered without looking at him. He sounded nonchalant. “Yeah, whatever gets you to fuck me.”

“Don’t be so greedy, let him look at you first.”

Yoongi’s legs didn’t only look smooth. He shaves, Jungkook thought as he touched bare skin for the first time, or waxes. Did he wax his whole body? Would his hole be bare too, almost like in those gay porn videos where none of the actors were actually gay, whole body airbrushed, with no soft hairs around his rim to run his fingers through?

He hooked his thumbs under Yoongi’s briefs. Before he could look up for affirmation, Yoongi’s hands joined his, moving the briefs down.

He wondered whether it was true that Yoongi was greedy. Actually desperate. Had they been looking for someone for long? How long had they harboured this particular fantasy, getting off on it without ever acting it out? But Jungkook didn’t elaborate on his thoughts because the second he had pulled the briefs past slim knees, his eyes moved to Yoongi’s cock. Which lay between his thighs almost demurely, so different from the bite and bark Yoongi had offered earlier. He was half-hard and uncut, blushed glans peeking out from under his foreskin. Mesmerized, Jungkook moved to cup it, gingerly pulled the foreskin down his shaft, exposing the pink head. God, Namjoon had said Yoongi really wanted to suck his cock but he couldn’t help when memories of the last phantom ache along his jaw resurfaced, wanting to tongue along the frenulum, set thousands upon thousands of nerve endings ablaze until his hyung cried.

Would he cry?

“Hyung, you’re pretty.”

He felt rather than saw Yoongi inhale sharply. His upper body was still hidden under his black shirt.

Namjoon sat at Jungkook’s back. Not quite touching, but close enough for the added heat to begin to make Jungkook sweat.

“Show him your surprise, hyung.”

Jungkook glanced at Namjoon who placed a lube bottle beside them.

Red-cheeked, Yoongi’s gaze was trained between his own legs to where Jungkook was still touching him. For a second Jungkook thought Yoongi was preparing a comeback, a rebuke, but after another moment of hesitance he simply shifted his weight, turning onto his knees. 

He lifted his ass in the air and lowered himself onto his elbows. The shirt slid up Yoongi’s back like a waterfall, creasing at his nape. 

The action revealed so much skin at once that Jungkook started to touch before Yoongi had finished settling. How could he not, when his hyung had positioned himself like a gift ready to be unwrapped?

Jungkook loved being on his knees as much as he loved seeing his partners on theirs. He loved the slight humiliation that came with putting yourself on display like that, cock dangling between thighs, soft heavy balls, vulnerable. Eyes fixed straight ahead and waiting, waiting for whatever it would be, a brush as soft as a feather or mean taunting jabs instead. Whatever you want to do to me, do it.

He noticed the surprise.

"Oh, hyung," Jungkook breathed. Starry-eyed, he tapped against the base of the metal plug, watching the furled muscle clench around the bulb hidden inside of Yoongi. The sight shot straight down to his dick still uncomfortably confined in his briefs.

"Pull it out," Yoongi demanded over his shoulder.

Jungkook would do no such thing. Especially when the plug wasn’t simply a plug, no, not when Yoongi’s hole stretched around a heart-shaped crystal the coy colour of sakura. When Jungkook had come across similar toys while online shopping he had always waived them off as slightly tacky but now the appeal was undeniable. 

"Does it feel good?" He traced the heart, fingertip running over the metal until his digits were ghosting over Yoongi's perineum instead. Jungkook’s own asshole twitched in response and he wondered whether he had already managed to soak a stain of precome into his underwear.

"Jungkook-ah." A warning.

But he was not done yet. Gripping the plug, Jungkook began to pull while Yoongi's body did its best to relax. Utterly fascinated and really fucking turned on Jungkook kept pulling until Yoongi's rim was stretched around the widest part of the plug. He himself had never taken one as wide as this, wasn't as much of a size queen as his hyung apparently was—

Lube trickled past Yoongi's rim and Jungkook groaned. Fuck. "How is this not enough for you?" And then he let go.

Whatever snide remark Yoongi had ready at the tip of his tongue, he cut himself off with a broken noise as his hole eagerly sucked the plug back in.

The mattress moved. Namjoon shifted closer to him, speaking lowly into Jungkook’s ear.

"Hyung has been wearing it the whole day. He needed the prep if he wants to take us both." Jungkook's hands had fallen to the sheets. Namjoon reached out and scooped up the excess lube trickling down Yoongi’s perineum, wiped it on Yoongi's thigh. "Inhale."

Yoongi and Jungkook both took a deep breath.

"Exhale," Namjoon said and as the air rushed out of their lungs, Namjoon pulled the plug out of Yoongi in one smooth motion. Jungkook’s own pulse overshadowed the deliciously filthy noise.

Now it didn’t matter whatever defiant thing Yoongi snapped at them. Because they could see his reactions properly, how his muscles fluttered. Could see the glistening ruddy pink of his walls once he unclenched, leaving him gaping.

"Fuck," Jungkook whispered. His cock was throbbing at the head, a painfully tight sensation, and he hadn't even touched it once.

"Fuck," Yoongi echoed, "I–" He buried his face in the pillows, rubbing against them in an attempt to focus. "Get in me. Either of you. I don't care." Every nerve ending in his body felt exposed. He could swear that even the soft cotton sheets were suddenly rubbing his nipples raw. The pillowcase had dampened from his heavy breaths. "I–I need to come once to make it work." And then, in an inexplicable wave of emotions, he reached a hand back. "Joon," Yoongi croaked.

“You’re doing well, baby,” Namjoon’s voice immediately responded. He intertwined their fingers, grasping Yoongi’s hand tightly, rubbing across Yoongi’s lower back with the other one. “How do you want to come?”

Yoongi clung to his words, eyelids falling shut. 

“Jungkookie, I want to suck you off,” he blurted.

Jungkook nodded dumbly.

“And Joon can fuck me.”

Namjoon wound his arms around Yoongi’s torso, pulling him back onto his lap. Yoongi dug into the muscles of Namjoon’s thighs, hand wandering further back until it could reach for the cock pressing against the small of his back. “Lube. Gimme the lube,” Yoongi gasped, hooded eyes searching for Jungkook’s. “And get in front of me so I can blow you while he’s fucking me.”

Both holes stuffed. Useful little hyung.

Instead of passing on the lube, Jungkook popped the cap. “Let me.” He warmed it up like he would for himself when he was taking his time instead of jackrabbiting into a fleshlight at home for barely five minutes, nothing truly satisfying about it. He inched closer to the pair and Namjoon followed his movements like a hawk, eyes widening in surprise when his dripping hand didn’t go for Yoongi’s cock like he had expected.

“You are big, hyung,” Jungkook said in wonder, palm rubbing circles over Namjoon’s cockhead. Unlike Yoongi, Namjoon apparently did not leak profusely so Jungkook made sure to get him nice and wet, ready to sink into Yoongi all at once. 

Jungkook rose to his knees, suddenly needing to get a look at it and shit. His own filter flew out of the window. He didn’t think at all, struck cock-dumb, before he asked. “Would you fuck me sometime?”

Yoongi went still against him, his smaller frame trapped between their bodies. Jungkook was leaning over his shoulder so he didn’t see the expression on his face, light fluffy hair covering Yoongi’s eyes. He tried to recall his own words, tried to understand why Yoongi had fallen so silent—oh, fuck.

“I’m so sorry.” He was already scooting back, heart racing. They were married. They had only agreed to a one-time thing, nothing more. And he here went, running his mouth, asking for one of these married fucking men to fuck him?

But Yoongi cut him off with a growl.

“Shut up. Lay down.” He placed both palms on Jungkook’s chest, pushing him back. Jungkook’s mouth fell open but no sound came out. He could do nothing but watch a muscle in Yoongi’s jaw jump as he exhaled roughly through his nose. “Scoot up, Jungkook-ah. Now. ”

Jungkook did until he was reclining against pillows. “Hyung, I’m–”

“No, I said shut up.” He leaned down then, pink tongue darting out past his lips, and licked a single fat stripe over Jungkook’s cock. Behind him, Namjoon smiled. 

“Oh god,” Jungkook gasped “Hyung, what the–” One of his hands flew up, threading through Yoongi’s hair if only to ground himself. At his cursing Yoongi looked up at him through his lashes sharply as if he were about to sink his claws into his helpless prey. Yoongi grabbed his shaft and smacked the head of Jungkook’s cock against his outstretched tongue. Every harsh slap him further down until his entire focus rested on the man in front of him. If looks could kill, Yoongi would eat his heart in a marketplace.

“You’re cute, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi spoke through half a pout, teasing. A kiss to his slit, the tiniest hint of teeth. Jungkook writhed. ““But do you really think you could take him?” He gathered some spit before letting it drop to his cockhead, smearing it with a grip bordering on too tight. “Maybe you could make it fit. Come all over yourself before Joonie even really started fucking you.”

Somewhere at the back of his mind Jungkook registered Namjoon lining up behind Yoongi but it didn’t come to him as a fully-formed thought until Yoongi quite literally stopped talking. He opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to see what was happening—just in time to see Namjoon pull out. Jungkook’s ears burned at the obscene squelch of Namjoon’s cockhead smearing through the mess between Yoongi’s cheeks.

Namjoon watched Jungkook’s reaction closely when he bottomed out in a single thrust. Mouth still agape, Jungkook swallowed and came up on his elbows so he’d be closer, closer to Yoongi whose expression had gone slack, no trace of tension in the set of his full brows, his lips. As Namjoon pulled back and snapped his hips forward again, a choked noise tore itself free from Yoongi’s throat, a rush of cold air against the sticky-slick skin of Jungkook’s shaft.

Namjoon pressed a chaste kiss against Yoongi’s shoulder. “I’ll fuck you if you want, Jungkook-ah.”

Yoongi turned his face into the juncture between Jungkook’s pelvis and thigh as if seeking a place where he could hide, where he could anchor himself.

Jungkook’s brain caught up to the meaning of Namjoon’s words.

“Wh–What?” Sweat trickled down his nape.

“I said,” Namjoon met his eyes. “I can fuck you if you want. Rough and messy or slow and gentle. Make you cry a little. You would either way, wouldn’t you?”

At the same time as Yoongi let out his first moan, Jungkook slapped a shaky hand over his mouth, muffling one of his own. “ Shit .”

“It will hu–hurt,” Yoongi spoke thickly, swallowing a mouthful of spit. “But hyung’ll help you.” He didn’t sound nearly as confident as he did before Namjoon had started fucking him.

Jungkook’s heart was in his throat. He needed to—needed, needed something before he’d go insane. He went for his own cock so he could at least make sense of one thing, the way he shivered at their words with a surge of pleasure that stung, a hook sunken into him right at the base of his spine, but Yoongi chose that moment to return to the land of the living and brushed his hand away.

When Yoongi finally sunk his mouth down on Jungkook’s cock, Jungkook spluttered and bit down on his bottom lip. Yoongi almost didn’t have to move, not when Namjoon picked up the pace, jostling him from behind. With a grunt, Namjoon buried himself down to the hilt, grinding and making Yoongi garble out a muffled groan around the cock in his mouth.

Jungkook was startled when fingers dug into his thigh, expecting them to be Yoongi’s—but it was Namjoon who was gripping his flesh so hard there was no doubt it would leave a bruise, half-lidded stare directed right at him. The responding surge of heat was so abrupt, so harsh, a shiver shook his whole body. A tell-tale pressure started behind his eyes so Jungkook squeezed them shut, pulling at Yoongi’s hair enough to make it hurt. 

If they— if they could play with his head, he could too. He’d show them.

“Does—does it feel good, hyung? Him fucking you?” he rasped, watching Yoongi’s blushed lips wrap around his girth and go about halfway down, staying there under Jungkook’s hold.

Yoongi came off his cock for a breath but didn’t leave it long enough for the string of saliva connecting them to break. “Yes,” he panted. “He does.”

“Does it hurt?”

At his question Namjoon shifted and angled up. 

Jungkook didn’t expect Yoongi’s whine. It surged through him like a gut punch, liquor-laced despite there not being a single drop of alcohol in his blood.

“Always.” Yoongi forced the word through his teeth while Namjoon built up punishing a rhythm. By his reactions Namjoon must have hit his prostate, familiar with each other's bodies to a hair. He was struck speechless by the sight. 

“Always hurts.”

Just now he had been gasping when suddenly the spit on his cock was already dry and he pressed down on Yoongi’s plump bottom lip with a thumb, opening his mouth, soft force to which Yoongi responded beautifully. He cradled Yoongi’s jaw with the rest of his hand like his bones would break under the next gust of wind, like something precious, and when his thumb pushed down on Yoongi’s tongue, Yoongi lapped at it, not quite closing his lips around the digit but enough to create a suction.

Jungkook took a sharp inhale.

“Joon. Joon, fuck.” Yoongi started to babble around Jungkook’s finger. He eagerly met Namjoon’s thrusts until Namjoon draped himself all over Yoongi’s back, broad form swallowing their hyung’s. Spit-slick, Jungkook drew his thumb to the corner of Yoongi’s mouth, taking saliva with him. Before he realised what he was doing, he’d put his thumb to his own lips.

“Jungkook-ah.” Namjoon didn’t say anything else, just his name, staring at him like Jungkook was the last drop of water and Namjoon a parched man. He felt his throat bob when he swallowed around his finger. 

Namjoon watched him. Namjoon kept watching him even as he pressed his lips to Yoongi’s temple, bringing one of his arms forward to grab Yoongi’s hair and pull his face free from where he’d been muffling his noises, almost choking himself with the duvet.

“Baby, you close?”

Jungkook would have almost answered, would have said I am burning up and it feels like it even if no one’s touching me and please if Yoongi didn’t start nodding his head as much as he could with Namjoon’s grasp on his hair.

Namjoon huffed, sinking into Yoongi until their hips were flush, until Jungkook could only trace hazy lines instead of separate bodies. “That didn’t take much at all. Couldn’t even suck Jungkook properly. You’ll have to make it up to him, baby.” He ground his hips forward, little circular motions that had Yoongi writhe under him as if trying to get away.

But Namjoon held him in place.

“No, you wanted to come, you’ll come.”

“Ass—asshole.”

Namjoon laughed brightly albeit a bit strained. “So—eloquent.”

Yoongi shifted onto one elbow, his other hand free to sneak under his torso, straying further to wrap around his cock. “Fuck you,” he rasped. “ Eloquent. Who says shit like that?”

“Gukk-ah.” Laughter still etched into Namjoon’s voice, despite his heavy panting. “Pin his arms.”

Jungkook moved without thinking, pressing Yoongi down until his shoulders hit the mattress, his wrists restrained at the small of his back where Jungkook held them. He could tell how close Yoongi was, his own toes curling in anticipation.

Namjoon hummed. “Ah, fuck. Good boy.”

Jungkook lifted his head fast enough to give himself whiplash. But then Yoongi started scrambling, nails digging into Jungkook’s skin where he was restraining Yoongi’s wrists, flexing under his hold.

He thought maybe Yoongi would be loud when he came. A litany of curses spilling from his lips, a prayer, a total uncoming of seams.

Instead, Yoongi tensed between them, went stock-still, stopped breathing. Jungkook saw his lashlines grow wet while Namjoon kept up the unforgiving pace, leaving the skin of Yoongi’s ass red and bruised, kept fucking him, all until Yoongi spasmed with a strangled gasp, shaking apart. 

The only sign that Namjoon was struggling to stave off his own orgasm was the furrow between his brows.

When Namjoon slipped out of him, Jungkook almost reached for Namjoon’s swollen cock. But Yoongi’s wrists slid out of Jungkook’s sweaty grip. He collapsed on his front with a huff.

The silence was filled by their heavy breaths.

Eventually, Yoongi rolled onto his side, then his back, and kicked out a weak leg at Namjoon. “When I said I need to come,” his chest rose and fell under his breathing, still coming down from his orgasm, “I didn’t mean fuck me until I can’t move .”

Namjoon caught his ankle, rubbing a thumb against it, eyes sliding up the length of Yoongi’s body. Jungkook did the same, finding glistening spots on Yoongi’s tummy where his leaking cock had slapped against, most of his come landing on the sheets. His cock was already softening, a rosy mouthful, looking even smaller than before.

“You came good, though,” Namjoon remarked.

Yoongi grunted. “I need a minute.” He gazed up, Jungkook’s head hovering above his. Jungkook wanted to kiss him but didn’t dare to move yet. “You okay? Sorry about the blowjob, I’m usually better at it.” He glared at Namjoon.

Jungkook opened his mouth, then closed it. A hint of worry slipped into Yoongi’s expression. “Jungkook-ah?” He was halfway there to sitting up, Namjoon coming closer too, when Jungkook found his words again.

“That was,” he blurted, “the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He couldn’t even cringe at his own croaky voice. They stared at him.

Yoongi turned to the side, hiding his face, while Namjoon tried his hardest not to laugh.

“What?” Jungkook looked at them. “I swear!” He looked at Yoongi, realizing he was too holding back his laughter, just hiding it better. “Why are you laughing at me? I’m just being honest.”

“Ah, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon chuckled. He reached for him. “Come here, I want to kiss you.”

In Jungkook’s books that wasn’t a problem at all.

“You did really well,” Namjoon muttered against his lips and Jungkook gloated. He was sure he could do even better once they got going again.

“Stop hogging him. Also,” Yoongi said, “I’m sticky.”

With his hands on Namjoon’s chest, Jungkook turned his head so Namjoon was pressing kisses to his cheek instead. “I’ll get a towel.”

He was able to ignore the surprise on Yoongi’s face but not the gummy smile he suddenly broke into. Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat.

In the bathroom he grabbed a towel from one of the shelves, running one end under the sink. He caught his own eyes in the mirror and startled at the vision presented in front of him; Jungkook almost didn’t recognise himself in the harsh bathroom lighting, looking so fucked out, the flush on his cheeks reaching down to his chest.

He was on his way back to the bedroom when he heard a muffled he’s sweet and a responding hum, and of all the things tonight it was this that made Jungkook blush the hardest. He was still blushing when he forewent Yoongi reaching out for the towel, wanting to clean his hyung up himself.

“You’re making him pout, hyung,” Namjoon remarked, palm settling at the small of Jungkook’s back. He welcomed the touch, feeling comforted by it in this apartment that wasn’t his, sharing a bed with a couple who obviously knew each other in and out.

Yoongi’s hand still hung in the air and it seemed to be a conscious effort for him to reel it back in, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze. When Jungkook touched the towel to his belly, he sucked in a breath, stomach tensing, whispering: “Cold.”

“Sorry, hyung.” Jungkook wet his lips and when he lowered down Yoongi met him halfway, accepting the kiss like it was second nature. Yoongi’s fingers brushed against his jaw, straying down his throat, all the way down his chest. When he grazed one of his nipples, Jungkook jumped, pulling back from his lips but not from his touch.

Yoongi lifted an eyebrow, pause heavy.

He skimmed his thumb over Jungkook’s other nipple, staying there to roll the nub between two digits, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes when Jungkook’s exhales were reduced to breathy ah, ahs.

“Hyung,” he said, though he wasn’t sure whether he was pleading with him to stop or continue. One way or another, Yoongi didn’t stop.

Namjoon hooked his chin over Jungkook’s shoulder, a solid presence behind his back. Jungkook’s breath hitched in his throat and he would have turned to meet Namjoon if it weren’t for Yoongi’s unrelenting touch or the following pinch sending a spark of pain down his spine. He didn’t have to look to know he was growing fully hard again, his core squeezing around his insides.

Namjoon snaked his arms around Jungkook’s waist.

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi called out lowly. “Do you want to come?”

Jungkook nodded, not knowing whether to press back into Namjoon’s hold or forward when Yoongi’s tongue came to lave at the hollow of his throat.

“Can you come twice?” Namjoon asked, lowering one of his arms, sparing Jungkook’s cock and cupping his balls instead, starting to roll them between his fingers.

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook whimpered, head falling back onto Namjoon’s shoulder. Yoongi licked a stripe up his throat to the soft place behind his ear, finishing with a nip at Jungkook’s earlobe.

“That’s not an answer, darling.”

Finally, Namjoon wrapped a hand around his leaking length. Even without lube the pressure and heat, the knowledge that it was Namjoon touching him, was enough – and Jungkook needed to make a decision quickly. But he struck dumb, unable to conjure a single sentence.

Knuckles pushed against his taint, massaging the stretch of skin. Jungkook twitched, safely contained between Yoongi and Namjoon, wishing they would press even closer, push the air out of his lungs until Jungkook was but reduced to a tiny heap cradled in their hands.. He couldn’t tell who was touching him so close to his hole that were he all lubed up, they could just sink their fingers right into him. But they didn’t need to – even from the outside the pressure against his prostate sufficed to curl Jungkook’s toes, legs going numb. A kiss against the corner of his mouth, the sharpness of teeth against the swollen flesh of his lips, god, god—

He wrenched his eyes open. “Wait, wait, wait!”

They stopped immediately.

“Jungkook?”

He was panting, staring at his own cock. He was so hard. The times where he used to come too quickly, all eager and excited, were long over. Jungkook wasn’t the same first-year student who almost threw up from nerves the first time he had sex with a man but he still found himself quite embarrassed by how quickly Yoongi and Namjoon reduced him to nothing but whiny noises.

Slowly, his head had begun to clear again. He was still in Namjoon’s hold albeit a looser one, and his hand found Namjoon’s forearm, gripping it. Jungkook looked over his shoulder, meeting Namjoon’s eyes through his sweaty fringe. “I want to come when we’re fucking hyung.”

Namjoon hung onto Jungkook’s lips, attentively listening to what he had to say. A smile spread across his face. He turned darkened eyes to Yoongi. “You heard him, hyung.”

Yoongi leaned over to the bedside table, grabbing two condoms while Namjoon took off the one he’d used to fuck Yoongi.

“Still feeling loose?” Namjoon hummed, drawing Yoongi closer. Jungkook couldn’t see it from his point of view but he was pretty sure that Yoongi must be gaping still – from both the plug and Namjoon’s cock.

“Yeah.” Yoongi closed the distance between them until his lips were moving right against Namjoon’s while he spoke. He looped his arms around Namjoon’s neck before addressing Jungkook. “I guess we just… try.”

Jungkook nodded, watching Yoongi’s pale form fit against Namjoon’s. Yoongi was a grown man and yet Namjoon seemed to dwarf him in size. “And you’ve never done this before?”

Yoongi had put his head down on Namjoon’s shoulder. With his eyes half-lidded and his mouth pulled into a pout, he blinked at him, a feline through and through. He lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Only with toys.”

“Are you scared?”

Yoongi’s tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip. Jungkook followed the movement with his eyes. “You know, being married to this one,” he poked one of Namjoon’s tits, “you learn to love the pain.”

Namjoon wasn’t impressed. “You were already a masochist before I met you, hyung.”

Yoongi put his palm over Namjoon’s mouth, never looking away from Jungkook. “Ignore him. He just doesn’t like when his monster cock becomes the centre of attention.”

Jungkook let the giggles spill over. Oh, he liked them. Even if this ended up being a one-time thing only, he hoped he could keep them as his hyungs.

Namjoon gingerly picked Yoongi’s hand up and away. “Glad we talked about that.”

Yoongi slapped Namjoon’s thigh lightly. “Put the condom on. You too, Jungkook.”

“How do we do this?”

“I’ll lie down on my back,” Namjoon said, ripping the plastic wrapper, stroking himself back to full hardness before unrolling the condom. “So hyung can get on top of me and Jungkook, you’ll press in from behind.”

Yoongi had moved while Namjoon was still speaking, straddling his waist. He brushed Namjoon’s hand away, grabbing the bottle of lube to drizzle more of it onto Namjoon’s cock, spreading it down to the base. With his hand still wet, Yoongi reached back. 

Namjoon couldn’t see how Yoongi prodded at his hole, how he’d push out against his fingers to test the stretch of the tight ring of muscle Namjoon loved to tease with the tip of his tongue, feel it flutter like Yoongi’s breath when Namjoon ate him out. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to do the same to Jungkook. There was something deeply alluring to the idea of reducing the younger man to tears considering how beautifully he’d reacted when they both put their hands on him. For all the snark, Jungkook was just wanting to be good, useful, obviously so. 

Namjoon himself rarely felt submissive in bed, relishing in taking control that was given to him when the rest of his life was often hectic and capricious. It made him grateful for the steady presence of Yoongi as his husband, best friend and especially the ruthless critic when Namjoon needed it the most. They gave and took from each consistently, a balance that required so much work and conversations – resulting in fights and tears, especially in the early days of their relationship because they were so similar in their aspirations yet so different in how they felt and expressed themselves. The very night it became clear that there wasn’t anyone else in the world for him, Namjoon had asked Yoongi to marry him as soon as the realisation hit. And even though Yoongi had looked at him like he had finally gone and completely lost it, they both knew one day they’d get there.

In the end it had been Yoongi who proposed in the least spectacular way, painfully them, bringing Namjoon his coffee one morning, his hyung being awake before him the only sign of something strange going on, standing there and staring at him until Namjoon asked whether he had something on his face and Yoongi blurted, “Let’s get married, Joon-ah.”

Now, Yoongi rose to his knees and lined Namjoon’s cock up behind himself. Unable to watch how Yoongi teased the head against his own slick rim, Namjoon got a front-row seat to Jungkook’s expressions as Yoongi enjoyed the glide, letting the cockhead catch and catch against his hole before sinking down on Namjoon in a single descend of his hips.

Jungkook’s cheeks had stained a cherry lipgloss red. He wasn’t close enough. Namjoon clasped Yoongi’s waist, keeping him rooted against his pelvis. “Jungkook-ah, darling.”

Jungkook had to tear his eyes away from the sight of Yoongi taking cock with practised ease.

“Try and get a finger into hyung beside me.”

Yoongi levelled him with a look that Namjoon ignored, patting over Yoongi’s belly instead, spreading his fingers over the miles of soft and pale skin. Yoongi hadn’t spent an hour exfoliating and moisturizing his body for nothing and Namjoon loved when his hyung indulged in himself, the subtle and warm scent of macadamia and shea butter, just sweet enough to want to get his mouth all over Yoongi.

Jungkook straddled one of Namjoon’s legs, sidling up to Yoongi. “Hyung?”

Yoongi exhaled with a small stutter when Jungkook spread two fingers, rubbing at his taut rim from both sides. Even through the condom Namjoon could sense the touch, taking Yoongi’s length in his hand, tapping the tips of his fingers over the glans in quick succession, small smacks, stings of pleasure against Yoongi’s overstimulated and reddened skin.

“It’s alright, you can push in,” Yoongi said.

And Jungkook did. Namjoon worked to keep his eyes open when Yoongi only got tighter around his cock. For a second he wondered whether Yoongi would literally cut off the circulation in his dick but the further Jungkook wiggled his finger in, the more Yoongi relaxed, even though his face was scrunched in concentration. He twitched adorably at every mean sting against his cock until he started to shake from the strain, of holding himself up, of purposefully keeping himself from clenching. And yet–

“Another, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook leaned forward so he could see Yoongi’s face, frowning, a little worried pout. Namjoon wanted to kiss him.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind taking more time, the stretch must be a lot.” He tucked a strand of hair behind Yoongi’s ear with the hand that wasn’t occupied.

“Another,” Yoongi repeated, defiance sneaking into his voice.

“Baby.” Namjoon kept his eyes on the tense line of Yoongi’s lips, felt another fingertip intruding. When Yoongi’s lower lip began to wobble, he stopped Jungkook’s wrist from moving further. Jungkook looked at him, eyes wide and concerned.

“Baby,” he tried again, voice lowered. “Too much?”

When Yoongi opened his eyes, they were shiny. Namjoon tutted, running his hand through Yoongi’s hair.

“What is it?” he asked softly. Jungkook wrapped his free arm around Yoongi’s waist and Yoongi sought the touch almost desperately. Namjoon’s chest ached.

“I just want it to work,” Yoongi whispered.

Fucking hell. 

Namjoon cooed, cupping his cheek, brushing his thumb over Yoongi's face. He considered his pouty face, the pink colour to the tip of Yoongi's button nose, and knew he had to be honest. "It might not, especially at the first time. But we can try again."

The first tear spilled over. Yoongi's expression didn't change as it rolled down his face and gathered at his chin, the next tear following soon. He sniffled.

" Hyung ." Jungkook sounded devastated. He kissed Yoongi's cheek, his lips coming away shiny, his hold around Yoongi only tightening. "Please don't cry."

Namjoon didn't say anything but kept stroking Yoongi's face. It happened sometimes, the crying. An outlet for an overwhelmed system.

Yoongi sniffled again, pushing Namjoon's hand away and rubbing at his eyes. "Why," he said thickly, "you don't find me sexy like this?" He met Jungkook's eyes, his own a little swollen, red-rimmed.

Jungkook, much like a fish, opened and closed his mouth. "No, I–I am emotionally conflicted,” he croaked.

Namjoon saw how Yoongi fought back a smile.

"Seeing you cry makes me want to cry and you truly don't want that.”

"I somehow doubt you're an ugly crier."

Jungkook shrugged. "It's not about that. Once I start I can't stop. I cried for an hour over a picture of my dog yesterday."

This time Yoongi laughed too, albeit without sound. Jungkook smiled at him, all bunny teeth, all gorgeous.

"If it doesn't work, it doesn't. But we can still try?" The hesitance in Jungkook's voice was sweet, like he was cautious to test how much comfort Yoongi would allow him, a stranger, to provide when Yoongi was this vulnerable.

Though Namjoon would hardly call him a stranger at this point.

Yoongi searched Jungkook's features for a long time. He exhaled.

"Okay. You can put your fingers back in. I promise I won't cry again."

Namjoon gave Yoongi’s ass a light spank. "You can cry as much as you want."

When Yoongi stuck out his tongue at him, Namjoon spanked him again, raising an eyebrow. 

"Tell me if it's too much, hyung." Though the words were meant for Yoongi, Jungkook looked at Namjoon as if to say, you know him better than I do. 

 Jungkook went excruciatingly slow. By the time he lined himself up, they were sweating profusely. A bead of it rolled down the side of Jungkook’s face, entirely focused on the sight below where he was joining Namjoon in pressing against Yoongi’s rim, a hot trickle of lube dripping down his perineum as Yoongi pushed out, rim kissing Jungkook’s head wetly. His centre was so flushed and swollen around Namjoon’s dark cock it was impossible for Jungkook to recall anymore what his hole had looked when clenched snugly around the metal plug earlier.

Yoongi’s head fell back, eyes clenched shut. “Keep–keep going.”

When Jungkook’s cockhead popped into his hole, Yoongi hiccuped out a gasp.

“Shit. Shit, fucking shit. fuck,” he cursed.

“Go, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon said. He brushed his thumb over Yoongi’s bottom lip, his own head just edging on that delicious dizziness that only came with an exertion like this. Yoongi’s mouth fell open, greedily latching onto the digit, biting down when Jungkook pushed in further. It should have been impossible for him to do it so easily but they had used lube excessively, Yoongi’s insides seethingly hot and slick, sucking him right in. Yoongi kept trying to curse even around Namjoon’s thumb so he extracted it, ready to shush Yoongi, calm him, but he didn’t have to.

“Hyung, you’re so fucking tight, what the fuck,” Jungkook hissed. Yoongi’s mouth hung open as if he was waiting for anyone to stuff it full again whenever they seemed him deserving of it. Sitting up, Namjoon reached out and grasped Jungkook by the nape, pulling him forward.

“Open your eyes, Gukk-ah. Hyung’s been waiting for this for so long and we need to do well for him. Fuck him well, hm?”

A broken hyung fell from Jungkook’s lips, hips spasming forward, ripping a moan from Yoongi’s throat. Namjoon’s blood was boiling – it was working – and he barely resisted sliding his hand from Jungkook’s neck to his jaw when Yoongi tightened around them abruptly.

The strangled sound Jungkook let out mirrored Namjoon who, in a slip of control, scratched his nails down Yoongi’s back.

“Yoongi.” Namjoon gulped, pressed his lips against Yoongi’s neck, his pulse point, mouthing at it as if it was his – as if he were the owner of Yoongi’s heart rate too. Yoongi reacted by turning his face towards Namjoon’s, seeking out the familiarity, and Namjoon nosed his way up to his ear. “You gotta relax, baby.”

“Trying,” Yoongi croaked out. “What are you so fucking big for, Joon-ah?” he spat, quite literally, a drop of saliva clinging to his petal lips.

Namjoon snorted.

“If your cock was just–” Yoongi trailed off, Jungkook pushing in again. Yoongi choked on another moan, his back going ramrod straight before he scrambled in Namjoon’s lap, reaching a shaking hand back and tugging at Jungkook’s hair.

“If my cock was just, what?”

Yoongi didn’t answer.

“Because I’m not the one who begged to be stuffed with two cocks,” Namjoon said. “And neither is Jungkook.”

But he would. Namjoon barely needed to glance at Jungkook to catch the desperation in his stricken expression. But if it were Jungkook instead of Yoongi, Namjoon thought, Jungkook wouldn’t ever have to beg for what he wanted. Unlike Yoongi, who liked to run his mouth a little too much.

“Didn’t beg.”

“Uh-huh.”

When Namjoon popped the cap of the lube, Yoongi jumped at the sound. Before Yoongi could react, Namjoon already poured it between them. Yoongi hissed and instinctually squirmed away, yet Namjoon held him in place. Yoongi’s cock, the neglected little thing even if he had already come once, had turned just as flushed as Yoongi’s heated cheeks, and Namjoon took him in his hands, squeezed it with a tad too much force.

“You know who’s being so good for us?” he murmured against Yoongi’s skin, his own lips wet. He then glanced at Jungkook who was already looking at him. “Come here, darling.”

Jungkook swayed forward as if pulled by a string. He kissed Namjoon so sweetly and Namjoon took his time licking into Jungkook’s mouth. When he pulled back, Jungkook’s mouth was still parted. “Hold it,” Namjoon said. Jungkook nodded, so pretty with his glistening face, stray strands of his dark hair sticking to his face. Once the silence had built up enough anticipation, Namjoon gathered the saliva on his tongue and spat into Jungkook’s mouth. Despite his moan, Jungkook kept his lips parted.

Namjoon smiled. “Good boy.” He tapped his chin, gesturing for him to close his mouth. Yoongi openly stared at the exchange with glazed eyes, clinging to Namjoon. 

“And?” Namjoon turned to Yoongi. “Do you think you deserve to take his cock? Have you been good?”

A whine. It took Namjoon a second to realize the sound had come from Jungkook whose eyes were flitting between the couple.

“Maybe,” Namjoon started, gaze fixed on Jungkook, flat palm sneaking under Yoongi’s belly button. He grazed his nails against the skin at the base of his shaft before he shifted, lifting Yoongi’s cock away from his stomach with a single finger. “Maybe we should leave you empty.” When he let go, Yoongi’s cock slapped against his own skin. He did it again, relishing in the gasps of pain he pulled from Yoongi.

Yoongi’s answer came as a whisper. “No.”

Namjoon furrowed his brow. “No? No, what, baby?”

“I’ve been good.”

“I think someone who’s been good would say please .”

The seconds ticked by loudly. Seeing the struggle in Yoongi’s averted eyes made Namjoon want to devour him whole.

“Please,” Yoongi muttered.

Namjoon smiled. “Please what?”

“Please,” Yoongi’s throat clicked, tongue likely parched, “fuck me.”

He brushed the hair from Yoongi’s brow. “Start moving, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook did. With a bruising grip on Yoongi’s hips he pulled out minutely. Namjoon’s fingers moved down to Yoongi’s entrance, brushing against Jungkook’s length that twitched under his touch. When Jungkook slowly thrust in again, Yoongi’s rim spluttered as Jungkook pushed the air out of him.

Namjoon had been so careful not to let the heat get to his head but now he dropped his head, forehead meeting Yoongi’s shoulder as he controlled his breathing. Yoongi was always tight no matter how often they fucked, and while he opened up gorgeously he’d never been this stretched, this accommodating, had never been penetrated by two cocks at the same time so that Namjoon allowed himself just a second of reprieve while Jungkook’s hips kept moving.

“Jungkookie.” Namjoon watched Yoongi reach out and pat Jungkook’s hand, trying to tug him forward. “Jungkook.” He twisted in Namjoon’s lap as much as he could, wanting Jungkook closer but having no strength to ask.

But Jungkook was quick to catch on.

On his next thrust, Jungkook clashed their mouths together. It didn’t matter that the angle was awkward – one of Yoongi’s arms immediately went up and around Jungkook’s kneck, clamping onto him. Their kiss was uncoordinated, mouths gaping, unable to keep any noises in, unable to swallow each others’ sounds. Too overwhelmed to kiss and fuck Yoongi at the same time, Jungkook stopped, accidentally slipping out – but fumbling his way back into Yoongi’s hole, snugly squeezed in next to Namjoon. Namjoon let them have their moment until his self-restraint left him and he moved, cautiously, so cautiously he had to clench his teeth together.

And Yoongi? Yoongi could feel them in his throat.

He had never felt this full, this stuffed, this contained while wanting to burst out of his skin at the same time. Didn’t know where he started and where he ended anymore, pleading this moment would last forever though he could barely take it, limbs starting to shake like leaves in the wind.

“Baby,” he heard Namjoon. “Yoongi, you feel so—” With a grunt, he pushed up as Jungkook pulled back. They were fucking everywhere. Not a semblance of a rhythm whatsoever, but they didn’t need it when Yoongi’s prostate kept being abused so roughly that the pain made him dizzy, made him get so close to the edge and yet staved him off.

Someone’s knuckles brushed against his cheek. There was no ounce of self-composure left in him.

“Fuck, I’m close–I can’t–” Jungkook’s voice sounded thick as if he was close to crying, short puffs of breath hitting Yoongi’s shoulder. “Hyung,” he whimpered, muffled against Yoongi’s skin, sharp teeth leaving their imprint.

“Okay, Gukk-ah,” Namjoon panted. “You’re okay.”

“In me,” Yoongi babbled. “Come in me, don’t pull out, wanna feel it, wish w–we didn’t have the fucking condoms, oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck. Joon, harder, please.”

Hours could have passed – Yoongi’s sense of time was shredded to bits, his entire existence reduced to the sting of flesh slapping against flesh, skin sticking together, breathing in what Namjoon and Jungkook gave him. There was no way he could have seen his orgasm coming, not a single thought paid to his own cock against his stomach that had leaked an obscene amount of precome, Yoongi wanting it in his mouth, wanting their come in his mouth, swallow them down until they’d maybe, impossibly, feel what Yoongi was feeling right now—

He hiccuped, tears catching in his lashes, when Jungkook spasmed against his back. He cried out, spilling into the condom, coming so hard his vision spun. Yoongi felt him – could sense him twitch although his hole must have been rubbed so raw and oversensitive but he didn’t care – didn’t care about anything except—

Namjoon started to grunt with every rough shove of his hips, speed picking up with little to no restraint, any semblance of rhythm lost. 

“Fuck, Yoongi, baby. Come for us.”

And Yoongi did.

***

Someone was stroking his hair.

"Hyung."

He frowned and burrowed further into the bedding but pushed his head back into the touch. A light giggle floated through the air and Yoongi was weightless, made from feathers, cotton-soft, warm.

"Hyung, you can't fall asleep yet."

Yoongi peeled his eyes open.

"There you are." Namjoon smiled down at him, tracing his eyebrows with the tip of his finger. He wanted to stay here where the rhythm of his heart remained calm and steady, the rest of the world safely removed. But the longer he looked at Namjoon, the more he became aware of his body and the stickiness clinging to his skin, the ache between his cheeks.

Ah, he'd feel them for days.

"Jungkook?" he mumbled.

"Starting the shower."

Yoongi pouted. "Without me?"

His husband laughed. Yoongi captured the sound between his palms, brought it to his chest, draped it over himself like a blanket.

Namjoon kissed the crown of his head. "Come on, you can sleep after."

"I don't think I can walk."

As if summoned, Jungkook's head popped out of the bathroom. "Hyung! I can carry you."

Heavily leaning against Namjoon's form, Yoongi sat up. He shook his head. "Hyung's fine, I can do…" He trailed off when Jungkook walked into the bedroom completely naked. 

Yoongi's face warmed.

Of course Namjoon noticed. With a smirk he asked: "You think you can carry me too, Jungkook-ah?"

He spluttered. Well-distracted, Yoongi missed the opportunity to fend Jungkook off—who simply snaked his hands under Yoongi's thighs and hoisted him up like he weighed nothing.

Oh god, he thought. What if he could carry Joon?

The shower became slightly cramped with three adult men in it but once Yoongi resigned himself to not lifting a finger, they fared much better in the stall.

"Thank you," Jungkook said, looking between them, a hint of shyness returning.

Namjoon stopped lathering Yoongi up. He gripped Jungkook's chin gently, turning his head to face him. Yoongi watched Namjoon study Jungkook's features, the slope of his nose, rivulets running down his face and gathering on his protruding bottom lip.

Jungkook squirmed. "What?"

Namjoon shook his head. "Nothing." He kissed him chastely, ducking down to do the same to Yoongi, lingering in his space afterwards, eyes meeting for a long moment. He knew what Namjoon was thinking.

Melting into the mattress, surrounded by the scent of clean sheets, Yoongi closed his eyes.

Despite his tiredness, Yoongi was the last to fall asleep. With Namjoon's chest pressed to his back and Jungkook curled into his front, he whispered a wish for sweet dreams to visit them.