“My pulse, huh?” Minhyun breathes out. His voice is kind of raspy, as if it were stuck and dancing in his throat. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if he were too exasperated and exhausted to continue with the conversation, but the manner in which one of his hands comes up to snake around Seongwoo’s bicep tells a completely different story.
“Don’t lie to us,” Seongwoo croons. He’s practically growling against Minhyun’s lips, the expression on his face something that’s simultaneously both predatory and soft.
“We don’t have time for that,” Jonghyun adds, picking his words with a slight caution, although his lips curl up afterwards.
“Jonghyun’s right,” Seongwoo agrees. Minhyun doesn’t give him a response, or rather, his voice fades into his breath as he raises his chin and lets his eyes fall lidded. It’s a silent agreement all three of them have come to in that room, and it hangs over them like a veil, inhibiting any sort of reason they might hold about what they mean to each other; and instead, it’s all replaced with something else, something that invades their senses like the sweet sickly air of a twisted passion.
Seongwoo leans down, brushing his lips against the corner of Minhyun’s mouth, and he sucks, darting his tongue out and running it along Minhyun’s skin. Jonghyun strokes Minhyun’s hair, his own lids falling, letting Seongwoo take the reins -- for now. He rests his forehead against Minhyun’s temple, fingerpads grazing softly over the almost-coarse hair atop Minhyun’s head. If he raises his gaze, he can see the bob of Minhyun’s Adam’s apple as he swallows his breath, and his cheek turns away, allowing Seongwoo to continue his exploration.
Jonghyun sees the fingers that are around Seongwoo’s bicep twitch before Minhyun’s wrist falls, as if he’d given up on any sort of resistance for the time being. Seongwoo’s palm comes up to caress one side of Minhyun’s neck as he makes his way down, and soon he’s tugging at the lapels of his robe, scratching his fingernails into the dips of Minhyun’s bones and muscle -- Jonghyun has moved to hold one of Minhyun’s hands, stroking his fingertips softly over his palm. Minhyun grunts as Seongwoo finally allows himself to sink his teeth in -- he’d at last lost just slight of his control, but it doesn’t feel as if Minhyun is about to protest anytime soon.
So Jonghyun takes Minhyun’s palm, raising it up to his face, and he sees the lines on Minhyun’s hand -- his skin is a little dry, rough to the touch, yet it’s nonetheless warm, firm, possessed by a power that both Jonghyun and Seongwoo know very well.
Minhyun’s fingers curl in slightly, and Jonghyun slots his own fingers in the crevices of the slight webbing on Minhyun’s hand, linking their limbs together in an almost reassuring way. He bends Minhyun’s wrist and presses a kiss to the inside of it, skating his lips over the warm skin before coming to a stop right over where Minhyun’s pulse is. He sinks his teeth in just slightly, beginning to build the pressure of his bite.
Minhyun’s breath hitches, and his head whips around, staring at Jonghyun with a wild glint in his eyes. Jonghyun connects their gazes. “The pulse,” he begins, “it tells a lot about a person.” He kisses over the red indenting created by his teeth. “The basic: whether you’re alive or dead.” The sleeve on Minhyun’s robe had fallen to expose his forearm all the way to his elbow. Jonghyun runs a fingertip along the inside of Minhyun’s arm, coming to trace the blue-green of a vein, before his own tongue replaces his finger. The trail end of the slick path he draws is wet with a long kiss, and when he lifts his mouth, he sees the beginnings of a purple bloom. “The next step? How you feel.”
“I know this,” Minhyun states, his voice hushed. Seongwoo nuzzles into the crevice of his neck and chin.
“We know that you know this,” he says, swiping his tongue over his lips in an almost teasing manner. He sits up, weight balanced easily on Minhyun’s waist, hands coming to rest on the latter’s abdomen. “But do you understand it?”
“One-twenty-eight over eighty,” Jonghyun murmurs, against Minhyun’s skin, “excitement, or illness?” He brushes his lips and nose over and up Minhyun’s arm, and Minhyun’s head turns, watching Jonghyun’s face rise to meet his. Jonghyun leans forward, tilting his head slightly, lidding his eyes so he looks at Minhyun with his gaze angled downwards. A thread more, and their lips will touch -- their noses are already brushing against each other. “Eighty-eight over forty-two. A depression, or illness?” He presses forward, and their lips finally meet, although it’s not in much of a kiss -- not right now, anyways. “Which are you?” A hand slides down to Minhyun’s wrist and presses its thumb against where Jonghyun knows Minhyun’s pulse is. “Should you tell us, or should we find out?”
Minhyun retracts his face slightly, just so he can growl out his words, demeanor polarizing from the one he’d previously adorned. “If not for Seongwoo here, you would’ve been on the floor a long time ago.” He lets out a heavy breath, and the scent of vodka fills Jonghyun’s nostrils. Under any normal circumstance, he’d find the smell rather revolting, but this time around, it seems that the essence of the alcohol goes straight to his head -- it’s intoxicating. “Get off of me, Seongwoo,” Minhyun grumbles, words slurred slightly. A palm is placed on Seongwoo’s stomach, and with drunken strength, Minhyun manages to shove Seongwoo off of him, the latter tumbling off of the couch and onto the floor.
“Rude,” he sneers, but Minhyun’s too busy having pushed Jonghyun forcefully onto the floor with a hand on his shoulder. He seats himself on Jonghyun’s waist and runs his fingers over Jonghyun’s neck, down to his clavicle, stopping his movements and curling his fingers inwards.
There’s the whisper of a pair of lips next to Jonghyun’s ear the next moment. He feels the tickle of Minhyun’s hair brushing against his face. “You want to know what my answer is?” Minhyun whispers, his breath hot and mildly wet, and Jonghyun shivers slightly from the sensation.
“Shoot me,” Jonghyun responds, the smile audible in his voice. Seongwoo chuckles at his response -- shoot me, to all three of them, is a phrase that possesses more meanings than they each could count.
“I don’t have one,” Minhyun murmurs, before he lifts his head and cuts Jonghyun off in the middle of a breath as he smashes their lips together with a hot fervor, and Jonghyun finds himself gasping into Minhyun’s mouth, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The bitterness of alcohol is shockingly present -- maybe Jonghyun had disregarded the alcohol for the night, but then again, there’s Minhyun’s fists gripping into his shirt as he digs his mouth in desperate kisses, and Jonghyun finds himself desiring that taste in his sloppy reciprocation.
When Minhyun pulls back, there’s saliva dribbling from the corner of Jonghyun’s mouth, and he laps it up with a sweep of his tongue, pulling at Jonghyun’s lips with his teeth when their mouths meet again.
Jonghyun groans as Minhyun sucks on his tongue, the overwhelming sense of heat, scent of alcohol, and taste of a heady intemperance sifting through his brain, filling in the gaps of his conscious that he hadn’t been aware were there, and now his world has become hazed with sweet.
Minhyun lifts himself up several moments later, panting heavily. The grip of his fists on Jonghyun’s shirt loosen, and he brings up a hand to wipe at the corner of his mouth. Jonghyun is left pinned on the floor, gasping for breath, fingers digging into the carpet. He watches Seongwoo scoot forward and wrap a hand around the back of Minhyun’s head.
“You,” Seongwoo states, glaring directly at Minhyun, and Minhyun sucks in a breath, his lips curling into a strange smile -- one that appears as if it were forced onto his face. A similar one crawls its way onto Seongwoo’s expression; it’s as if the two had reached some mutual understanding. “That’s unacceptable,” Seongwoo sneers, his smirk evident as he yanks Minhyun closer to him by his hair. Seongwoo knocks their foreheads together, and Minhyun is toppled over, the back of his head hitting the seat of the couch.
“Is that for you to dictate?” Minhyun questions, breathily, and Seongwoo is the one to press their lips together. The action is much more soft than how Minhyun and Jonghyun had met, but it’s nowhere near chaste, nowhere near gentle and caressing with a type of love that’s bred out of what’s typical of romance stories. It’s a flame that Seongwoo hurls at him, and as Minhyun wraps his hand around the back of Seongwoo’s neck, pulling him in closer, the fire is thrown back.
Jonghyun flushes as he watches -- he’s never seen either of his housemates like this. He’s never been like this either, with an air of exaltation threading through him -- threading through Seongwoo and Minhyun too, and he’s suddenly aware of Minhyun’s awkward weight half atop him, half not. He sits up and presses himself against Minhyun’s side, his hands snaking towards the tie of his robe, and with deft fingers he pulls at the bow, allowing it to unravel and expose the bareness of Minhyun’s abdomen and chest.
Seongwoo notices his actions, and he pulls back, trailing an index finger down Minhyun’s face, neck, and chest, stopping only right above his heart. He taps his finger on Minhyun’s skin twice. “You might want to keep this safe,” he says, smirking, “or maybe Jonghyun and I might end up gouging it out.”
“Who said I even have one?” Minhyun whispers. He gazes at Seongwoo slyly. “Seongwoo. If you’re going to do this, you might as well do this.” A hand lifts up the front of Seongwoo’s shirt. His head turns, and Jonghyun finds Minhyun’s gaze on him. “You too.” His pupils have become even more dilated, the glimmer in them no less wild than it’d been several minutes ago.
“Pushy,” Seongwoo comments with snark, but he nonetheless obeys, lifting his shirt over the top of his head and shrugging it off. It’s tossed carelessly over the cushion of the couch. Jonghyun finds himself swiping his tongue over his lips as he takes in the folding of the muscles of his boyfriend’s back, shadows casted in a deft manner as he flexes back his shoulders carelessly.
“You too,” Minhyun reiterates, eyeing Jonghyun with an angled gaze -- it seems as if some of his control from his drunken stupor previously had returned, yet Jonghyun knows that’s not true, because Minhyun’s expression is just as wavering, just as swimming as Jonghyun’s vision feels at that moment. Minhyun leans slightly over, and Jonghyun suddenly feels a pair of palms pressing against his lower abdomen, sliding their way up, over the ridges of his muscles, past the corrugations created by his ribs, coming to rest on his pecs. Warm and rough -- the same skin he’d run his fingertips over earlier. There are forearms against his body, a pair of lips whispering in his ear -- You too. In a daze, his fingers curl around the hem of his shirt that’d been pushed all the way up his body, and he pulls the cotton up and over his head.
“And you,” he whispers, knocking his nose into Minhyun’s cheek as his fingers come up and grasp Minhyun’s robe, pushing it off his shoulders before he smooths his own palms up and down the planes of Minhyun’s arms, and he finds himself grasping Minhyun’s hand again, cradling it in his grip, before he leans forward and presses his lips to Minhyun’s shoulder.
“You’ve got quite a body, Minhyun,” Seongwoo comments, stroking his fingers through the hair right above Minhyun’s ear. His tone is still haughty, although there’s an undertone of appreciation to it. He leans forward, kissing the helix of one of Minhyun’s ears, before whispering, “Maybe even up to par with your brain.”
“That’s the most of a compliment you’ve ever paid me, Seongwoo,” Minhyun returns, as he leans his head back onto the seat of the couch, allowing his eyes to slip into a half-drowned state, almost the exact same plight he’d been in before, except this time, it seems he’s retained more of his senses as Seongwoo skates his lips down, pressing them to his collarbone and as Jonghyun flutters kisses up and down the span of his bicep.
His robe has piled to the ground beneath and behind him. Jonghyun lifts himself and raises a hand, letting it gently graze Minhyun’s cheek, pushing Minhyun’s face to meet his gaze. “Move,” he says, a thumb stroking over Minhyun’s cheekbone. “Seongwoo,” he adds, “get off of Minhyun for a moment.”
Seongwoo rolls off to the side, and Jonghyun climbs onto Minhyun’s lap. Minhyun allows himself to shift position and fall backwards onto the carpet with encouragement from Jonghyun’s palms, burning against his skin, and Jonghyun scoots himself backwards until he’s sitting on Minhyun’s knees. He snakes his fingertips underneath the waistband of Minhyun’s boxers. “For someone who seemed so reluctant, you’re sure excited,” he notes, a small smile climbing its way onto his lips. Minhyun sighs, letting his eyes flutter closed, the back of his hand thrown over his forehead -- maybe the strength in his fervor from previously had faded some, but it seems that the fervor itself is still there. Jonghyun places a palm over the rise in front of Minhyun’s boxers, palming him through the cotton, and he smiles as he hears Minhyun’s breath hitch unevenly, the tremble of his lips apparent.
Jonghyun isn’t much for teasing, though -- he hooks his fingers around the waistband the next moment, tugging Minhyun’s boxers over his hips, down to his thighs, letting loose his arousal. “What should I do,” he thinks out loud, “what would you like, Minhyun?”
“Whatever,” Minhyun hisses, running his palm down his face. He lifts his head slightly, looking Jonghyun in the eye, and repeats, “whatever.”
“So considerate,” Seongwoo croons, moving over so that he sits next to Minhyun’s head. His hands slide around his temples, down his cheeks, until they come to cradle Minhyun’s chin, fingertips playing a melody across his jaw. The next moment, he changes position, getting down onto his elbows and knees, before planting a kiss on the top of Minhyun’s head.
Jonghyun slides a palm onto Minhyun’s cock, stroking up and and down a few times. Minhyun’s stomach convulses, his skin rising up and down erratically for a moment, and his gasps are captured with Seongwoo’s lips on his. The fitting is a little awkward, noses bumping against chins, but it’s all lost in the air as Jonghyun leans forward, taking the head of Minhyun’s cock into his mouth. Seongwoo strokes Minhyun’s cheek as Jonghyun lets his lips sink, engulfing as much of Minhyun as he can until he feels the barest kick of his gag reflex. Saliva dribbles out of the corners of his lips at the stretch, and it some of it slips onto Minhyun’s cock as he begins to suck, bobbing his head up and down with the movement. He swirls his tongue around the head, lapping up the saltiness of Minhyun’s precome before digging the tip of his tongue into the slit. The action elicits a shaky gasp from Minhyun.
Seongwoo brushes away the hair over Minhyun’s forehead and temples, matted together with sweat, and Minhyun gazes up at him with his eyes narrowed, an almost calculating and suspicious expression donning his face, but it’s muddled with the uncontrollable lust coursing underneath his skin. Seongwoo leans down and peppers kisses all over him, but he rises the next moment, for he’d caught notice of something out of the corner of his eye.
Jonghyun strokes with his hand what his lips cannot reach. The graze of his teeth over the ridge of the head of Minhyun’s cock sends trembles through Minhyun body, and his fingers dig into the carpet beneath him. Jonghyun sinks down again, this time around willing his gag reflex to settle, until he feels the head of Minhyun's cock hit the back of his throat. He hums, and the vibrations that resound send an almost uncontrollable amount of pleasure up Minhyun’s spine. His hips voluntarily rise, but Jonghyun reaches out a palm and sets it on Minhyun’s lower stomach -- a command to keep still.
He flexes the muscles in his throat, allowing them to clench around Minhyun’s cock; Minhyun utters out a low groan, his chest heaving from the stimulation. Maybe his breaths are not quite distinguishable audibly, but the way his diaphragm rises and drops indicates his struggle.
Jonghyun lifts himself off several moments later, a wet pop resounding through the air as his lips leave the head of Minhyun’s cock, a thick string of saliva connecting them. He flicks out a tongue, breaking the string and licking over his own lips, spreading Minhyun’s salty and mildly bitter taste over his mouth. When he glances up, he notices Seongwoo hunched over Minhyun, one hand smoothing over Minhyun’s hair, the other one holding his gun.
“That’s not l-loaded, is it?” Minhyun hisses out his question, one eye of his squinted as he stares up at Seongwoo.
“What if it is?” Seongwoo quips, and he grazes the tip of the gun against Minhyun’s jaw, “What’s it to you?” The cold of the metal sends a shock through Minhyun’s body. It’s so polarizing, compared to the electrifying heat underneath his skin, and he shivers slightly.
Seongwoo, having noticed his reaction, smirks. “Should it matter?” he whispers, his lips hovering above Minhyun’s nose, “should it?” He traces the outline of Minhyun’s face with the gun, a finger braced on the trigger. Minhyun watches its path silently, all while Seongwoo is lowly humming, his eyes following his hand.
Jonghyun shakes his head, once again taking the head of Minhyun’s cock between his lips, and Minhyun gasps, digging his teeth into his bottom lip. The wetness of Jonghyun’s mouth, combined with the chilling sensation of Seongwoo running the gun up and down his cheek, makes his limbs twitch, and he grasps at the carpet, his hips shaking with the struggle to keep them down.
Jonghyun moves to plant kisses up and down the shaft, sometimes sinking his teeth in softly. When he rises, he wraps his hand around the base of Minhyun’s cock and begins to stroke slowly, letting the warmth of his palm mix with the slick of his saliva.
“G-God,” Minhyun hisses through his breath.
“I thought you didn’t believe in religion,” Seongwoo hums, pressing the body of the gun against Minhyun’s cheek, and Minhyun squeezes his eyes tightly closed.
“And I thought you were incapable of love,” Minhyun retorts, but his voice is cracked as Jonghyun digs a fingernail into the slit at the head of his cock.
“Who said this is love?” Seongwoo murmurs, but he nonetheless leans forward and kisses the corner of Minhyun’s lips, darting out his tongue briefly. The hand holding the gun presses the weapon against Minhyun’s cheek, tilting Minhyun’s head towards him, and Minhyun meets him in a kiss that’s slower, wetter, but nevertheless just as intoxicating, the mix of the bitter of alcohol and a sickly sweet lust sticky between their skirting tongues and swollen lips.
Minhyun hisses into Seongwoo’s mouth as Jonghyun’s stroking of his cock increases in both pressure and speed. The stuttering of his hips, the small jerky motions as a result of the tug-of-war between his control and his instinct, is becoming fractious, and Jonghyun can feel the trembling of Minhyun's thighs under a palm. Soon, the convulsions of his chest and stomach are nearing uncontrollable, and the pressing of the tip of the gun to his skin with a whispered, “Be still,” from Seongwoo does nothing to restrain his movements.
“Jonghyun,” Seongwoo hums, and Jonghyun looks up.
“Stop. Don’t let him come.”
“Right,” Jonghyun says, and he takes his hand away from Minhyun’s cock. Minhyun groans at the loss of contact, his chest heaving. Seongwoo sets down the gun and swipes away the sweat from Minhyun’s temples. But Minhyun pushes away his hands, and with the lessened weight on his knees, he’s able to sit up and lean over, reaching underneath the couch with an arm.
“What’re you doing?” Jonghyun begins, but Minhyun’s actions are more than enough of an explanation. He pulls something out from beneath the couch, and points it directly at Jonghyun.
Jonghyun raises his eyebrows, a surprised smile forming on his face, although he immediately relaxes it into something more of a casual grin. He sees the snaking of the blooms of blue, adorned with bits of green and yellow over the shiny metal body, gleaming in the hazed golden-dark of the room.
Minhyun lowers the gun, a sly smile slipping onto his lips. Both Seongwoo and Jonghyun watch intently as he crawls forward until he’s sitting directly in front of Jonghyun. A single finger is slipped underneath Jonghyun’s chin, tilting his head up, and Minhyun angles his own head to the side, as if studying Jonghyun’s mouth, before he leans forward and softly kisses him. Jonghyun’s eyelids fall, and he sees nothing but Minhyun’s nose for a moment, until Minhyun retracts himself -- Jonghyun catches that wild glint again, but this time, it’s a little different.
And then, there’s the press of cold metal against his lips. His eyes widen slightly, but Minhyun is studying him. “Jonghyun,” he whispers, and Jonghyun lets his mouth fall open, taking in the nozzle of the gun as easily as he’d taken in Minhyun’s cock. In the back, Seongwoo lets out a hushed noise -- a little shock at seeing his boyfriend engulf a gun in his mouth, but his breath is laced with arousal. Minhyun presses the gun farther down Jonghyun’s throat, only pausing when he senses movement behind him. There’s Seongwoo, having crawled over, and he comes up next to Jonghyun, reaching forward with a hand, holding onto Jonghyun’s head as another palm comes up to stroke his hair.
Jonghyun flicks his tongue around the barrel of the gun. He feels the bitter sourness of grease slip down his throat, and he swallows, but the taste rises back up in the form of slips of drool crawling out of the corners of his mouth. Seongwoo leans forward, lapping up those bits of saliva, sliding his tongue over Jonghyun’s chin, jaw, and cheek, and Jonghyun moans at the overwhelming throttle of sensations -- there’s the shocking chill of metal inside the heat of his mouth and throat, although having slowly dissipated into a strange warm-cold. There’s Seongwoo’s hot mouth licking his skin, peppering kisses, his palm there to support him, firm and unrelenting. But also, there’s the skating of Minhyun’s fingertips, moving down and pushing past the waistband of his pants to palm at his cock.
“Your mouth really does as much work as your head, doesn’t it?” Minhyun notes, the slightest of a smile in his voice, and Jonghyun’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows, unable to move his head with Seongwoo’s grip. He shudders violently as Minhyun’s roughened palm wraps around his cock and begins to stroke.
“He’s quite skilled, isn’t he,” Seongwoo comments, and he presses his lips to the column of Jonghyun’s throat, immediately biting his teeth in.
Jonghyun emits a garbled noise, his lips trembling around the girth of the gun. Minhyun flicks his thumb over the head of his cock, his breath uttering warm sighs over Jonghyun’s skin. Seongwoo’s mouth on his neck is unbearably hot, the sensation amplified with the sinking of his teeth. The pressure of Seongwoo’s jaw against Jonghyun’s neck is violent enough, laced with a tense desire, to draw the slightest of blood, and the pain is sparking against Jonghyun’s nerves, but it’s easily washed over as Minhyun catches his fingertips over the ridge of the head of his cock.
Jonghyun can’t even feel a trickle of his own blood sliding down the span of his neck, for his body has become numb with electrifying pleasure. Seongwoo presses his fingernail into the slight wound he’s made, and drops of the most enticing scarlet he’s ever seen pulse out of Jonghyun’s skin. He swirls his fingerpad in it and drags it down the column of Jonghyun’s throat so that a streak of red appears, before he leans forward and laps it away, drinking in the spark of the sharp taste of iron against his tongue. “Delicous,” he murmurs, nuzzled up against the crook of Jonghyun’s neck.
“Hnnn--” Jonghyun hums, blinking rapidly. It’s becoming mildly difficult for him to sit up, for his body is shaking uncontrollably. Minhyun applies slightly more pressure to the gun, and the cold metal presses against the back of Jonghyun’s throat. His lips tremble violently around its girth, because with the increased pace of Minhyun’s stroking and the flicks of his wrist, his sense of self is becoming more and more lost. Seongwoo places a palm on his chest, feeling its heaving in time with Minhyun’s movements.
“Don’t let him come,” Seongwoo says.
Minhyun smirks slightly. “Didn’t think I was planning to,” he replies, his words short and slightly breathy.
Jonghyun’s lips waver against the gun, even more saliva spilling out of his lips as he's just on the verge of choking. His breaths are becoming so rushed that they’re audible in the room, a slight whoosh and whistling as he inhales desperately through his nose. Another garbled noise vibrates throughout his throat, dissipating into a string of caged moans as Minhyun moves his hand to stroke and fondle his balls.
“He’s close,” Seongwoo says, and Minhyun immediately pauses his movements, retracting his hand. He tugs the gun out of Jonghyun’s lips, and Jonghyun immediately falls forward once the weapon is released from his mouth, his hands catching him as he pants, staring down at the carpet beneath him. The edges of his vision waver, but the intoxication in his conscious is enough to encourage him to turn back around and latch his lips onto Seongwoo’s, who fervently reciprocates his desperate kisses, a smile adorning his expression.
Jonghyun manages to topple him over, but when he pulls himself away and lifts himself back up, his gaze lands on something sitting on the coffee table a ways away -- the handle is a plastic white, the blade silver and slightly dull, but nonetheless sharp enough to have been used to peel an apple earlier. “Minhyun,” he rasps out, “the knife.”
“I see,” Minhyun responds, the edge of his voice lilting in an almost teasing way -- he’s naturally caught onto Jonghyun’s intent. “Revenge for just a little bite?”
Jonghyun smiles smugly, and his gaze turns back down to his boyfriend beneath him. Seongwoo frowns up at him slightly. “Maybe not revenge,” Jonghyun begins, and he trails a fingertip over Seongwoo’s lips, “but his little antic there got me thinking.”
“You’re going to cut me,” Seongwoo says blatantly. It’s less of a statement and more of a question. For a moment, a hint of alarm flickers over his gaze, but it’s immediately veiled by the darkening of his eyes as a result of the perpetually invasive lust. Jonghyun leans forward, hazing the hot of his palm over his boyfriend’s cheeks and forehead.
“You’ll be fine,” he coos, dipping the finger that’d been on Seongwoo’s lips into the corner of his mouth, “blood is nothing more than a casualty to you, isn’t it?”
“If you say so,” Seongwoo states. His gaze flits over to the shadow of Minhyun’s body leaning over him. “Don’t mar me too badly,” he jests, satirical mirth dancing over his lips, “Jonghyun prefers me to still remain handsome. And presumably you too, Minhyun.”
Minhyun scoffs at his response. Seongwoo appears to intend to speak more, but he is shushed by the press of a cold blade to his lips. “Your lips?” Minhyun hums, and he stares down at Seongwoo’s face as he pokes the tip of the knife just hardly into the plush of Seongwoo’s bottom lip. A small bead of red appears at the incision, and when Minhyun retracts the weapon, Jonghyun leans down and swipes his tongue over his boyfriend’s lip. “Your cheek?” He slides the sharp of the blade in a slice just a centimeter in length along the high of Seongwoo’s cheekbone. “Your temple?” Right along Seongwoo’s browbone, Minhyun draws a scarlet line parallel to his eyebrow. “Or maybe somewhere else?” He sets down the knife, instead pressing his fingerpad to the cut on Seongwoo’s cheek, watching as the pressure applied by his finger elicits more of that crimson -- a fine color, really, compared to the sallowness of Seongwoo’s skin. Its hue is bright enough that it reveals the strength of its originator, despite the dark circles beneath Seongwoo’s eyes and the slightly sunken way his skin wraps around his facial structure.
Seongwoo huffs, turning his head away, simultaneously exposing the cheek of his that’s cut. Jonghyun leans down, smearing the blood that’s dripped through already, as if he were painting rouge on Seongwoo’s cheeks. He laps up the markings, pressing into the wound with the tip of his tongue, and Seongwoo hisses suddenly at the sharp sensation. Jonghyun grins into his kiss as he places his lips against the cut, as if apologizing for the pain he’s inflicted, only to pucker his mouth and suck, the slightest of a whistling noise being emitted from between his teeth.
Minhyun threads his fingers through Seongwoo’s hair, leaning down to softly kiss at the slice above Seongwoo’s brow, and running the pad of his thumb lightly over the cut before he decides to lift his head. With care, he strokes his fingertips over Seongwoo’s forehead as his hand that grips the knife trails the tip of the blade past Seongwoo’s cheek and down to his neck, where the flat side of the silver is pressed gently against the column of his throat.
Seongwoo gasps, his chest lifting. The cold of the metal sends a shock through his body, and coupled with the notion that the weapon is against one of the most sensitive and vulnerable parts of his body, his nerves stand on end.
Minhyun slides two of his fingers underneath Seongwoo’s chin, lifting up his head and completely exposing his throat before he begins to trace drawings onto Seongwoo’s skin. “Don’t swallow,” he murmurs, when the blade touches Seongwoo’s Adam’s apple. Jonghyun chuckles softly at his comment. “That might be dangerous.” Minhyun shifts his position over as he runs the tip of the blade down into the dip between Seongwoo’s collarbones. Seongwoo audibly gulps, and even with Minhyun’s fingers having released his chin, his head is still thrown up, mouth gaping, the breaths he takes clammy and wet.
Jonghyun scoots forward onto Seongwoo’s stomach, placing a hand softly on his boyfriend’s cheek. “Seongwoo,” he says, calmly, and Seongwoo’s gaze flickers down to Jonghyun’s face, although his head is still angled in the same position. “You’re doing great,” Jonghyun praises with a not-so-sweet smile, and he moves back down to sit on Seongwoo’s thighs as Minhyun begins to pave a path down onto his pecs, flicking the blade against a nipple.
Seongwoo gasps, his hands twitching, toes curling and uncurling erratically. “Not so confident now, are we?” Minhyun whispers, leaning down and touching his lips to Seongwoo’s ear. His tone is teasing, and Seongwoo is about to scowl and retort back until he feels Jonghyun’s hot breath mouthing at his clothed dick.
At the press of Jonghyun’s lips, Seongwoo groans, nearly bucking his hips up. The combination of the cold blade, now dancing across his ribs, and Jonghyun’s torrid breath make him feel like his upper and lower halves are detaching with the splitting sensations of pleasure on each part of his body.
Jonghyun scoots back slightly, wrapping his fingers over the waistband of both Seongwoo’s sweatpants and his boxers, before pulling down the articles of clothing in one go. “Fuck,” Seongwoo hisses, at the sudden chilliness of the air skating across his heated erection, “Jesus fuck--”
Minhyun shushes him with the poking of the knife against his lips. He smirks. “I thought you didn’t believe in religion either,” he hums, a look of slightly crazed amusement flickering over his expression for a moment.
“A-And I thought you refused to admit you love me,” Seongwoo retorts, his voice hushed, thin, wispy, just the barest of a tremble in his tone.
“I never refused,” Minhyun replies, his lips quirking, “I simply told you to fuck off.” The next second, he leans down, sucking in one of Seongwoo’s nipples through his teeth just as Jonghyun presses his lips to the base of his cock.
Jonghyun almost laughs as he nuzzles against Seongwoo’s skin, his tongue darting out to lick a stripe up one of Seongwoo’s balls. His boyfriend’s hips buck up at the interaction, but Jonghyun’s hands sliding up the tops of his thighs are a silent reminder that he must remain still as well.
“You sure love using your mouth, don’t you, Jonghyun?” Seongwoo grits out through his teeth.
Jonghyun rolls his eyes at the commentary. His only type of a response is pressing a wet kiss to the base of Seongwoo’s cock, eliciting a drawn-out groan from Seongwoo and a sly smile from Minhyun.
Minhyun trails his lips to the other nipple with long sweeps of his tongue and rough kisses. At the center of Seongwoo’s chest, he sucks long and hard, and when he lifts his head, he sees the blooming of an angry red-purple, before he leans down once again and kisses over it, soothing the color and encouraging it to spread across the otherwise untainted expanse of Seongwoo’s skin.
“You’re a little impatient,” Jonghyun croons, when he notices the trembling of Seongwoo’s abdomen and legs from only the presses of his lips across the body of Seongwoo’s cock. “Even worse than Minhyun here.”
Seongwoo audibly clenches his jaw, before gasping out, a little angrily, “You’re just insane, Jonghyun.”
“If he’s this uncomfortable--” Minhyun begins. He’s tapping his fingertips across Seongwoo’s chest, letting them dance to some drunken and arrhythmic choreography, smiling in an almost unnaturally serene way. “--then should we--”
“I-I’m not uncomfortable,” Seongwoo utters out, but based upon the way his eyes are blown wide and the sweat beading at his temples from the simple feathery, barely-there trailing of Jonghyun’s fingerpads across the length of his cock, tells a completely different story: one of Seongwoo’s nerves being lit on fire from their ends, and even his previous drunken and delighted haze isn’t enough to smother the flame beneath his body.
Minhyun glazes over Seongwoo’s protest. “Shall we stop this teasing?” he asks, looking up at Jonghyun. Without even glancing at Seongwoo, he pushes the blade of the knife he holds against the plush of his lips, effectively silencing the man beneath him.
“Perhaps,” Jonghyun replies, and when his and Minhyun’s gazes connect, an understanding passes between them. He climbs off of Seongwoo’s thighs and crawls towards Minhyun, nudging him down onto his back easily with a firm palm on the center of his chest. “I have an idea,” he whispers against Minhyun’s lips, and Minhyun can feel the imprint of his smile. “You’ve got lube?”
Minhyun nods. “Get up for a moment,” he says, and Jonghyun complies, lifting a knee off of Minhyun’s waist. He watches Minhyun walk around the couch, disappearing from sight, only to return several seconds later with a packet held in one hand. With a lazy toss, it lands in Jonghyun’s palms. “You’re prepared,” Jonghyun comments, with a slight huff.
“I kind of have to be,” Minhyun mutters, rolling his eyes.
“Didn’t know sex was part of your job,” Seongwoo quips, having recovered from his trembling. He flips over onto his stomach, watching the other two men with a half-lidded gaze and a lazy gaping of his mouth.
Minhyun remains silent as Jonghyun sets the packet aside without a single word. Jonghyun pulls off both his sweatpants and his underwear, tossing them onto the couch cushions next to Seongwoo’s shirt; but both Seongwoo and Minhyun raise their eyebrows as they see Jonghyun stick his fingers between his lips. He connects his gaze with Minhyun, his eyes narrowing in an almost impish way, as if what he’s about to do will test Minhyun’s limits.
His tongue darts out, and his eyes close in bliss as he licks around each of his fingers carefully, completely engulfing a digit within his mouth only to pull it out with a wet pop! several seconds later, thin bits of saliva connecting his swollen lips with his hand. He pays it no heed, instead going to dip his tongue into the crevice of his webbing, allowing grazes of his teeth against the thinner skin before tonguing up the side of a second finger.
Minhyun’s breath hitches, and if he flits his eyes over, he sees Seongwoo’s attention enraptured, hair mussed and face slightly flushed.
And to both of their shocks, Jonghyun cracks a grin before he sets a hand behind him, leaning back and raising his knees, snaking his hand down past his abdomen, cock, and all the way down to his rim. He slips in a finger with no hesitation, and once it’s fully engulfed to the knuckle, he finally lets his eyes squeeze shut tightly, a hiss whistling through his lips.
“J-Jonghyun,” Minhyun stutters, about to reach forward, but Seongwoo holds out a hand, looking at Minhyun pointedly. So Minhyun sits back on his haunches, and watches Jonghyun pull his finger out of himself, leaving only the tip inside, before pushing it all the way back in. His head falls back, and the light catches on the outline of his face, painting the frame of his head in a muted gold. “Hhhh--” he sighs, abdomen beginning to rock as he thrusts his finger at a faster pace. Soon, there’s the press of a second fingerpad against his entrance, and Minhyun gulps as he sees Jonghyun’s hole swallow it up without any resistance. Jonghyun leans back even more, and at the slightly steeper angle, he’s able to move his hips, pressing them forward towards his hand. The rest of his fingers twitch as he begins to scissor the two inside him, spreading them and pushing them back together. There’s nothing but a punch of insurmountable lust inside Minhyun’s gut at that moment, his eyes concentrated on the puckering of skin, slightly darker than the rest of Jonghyun’s body, as it stretches to accommodate Jonghyun’s fingers.
When Jonghyun presses in a third, Seongwoo scoots forward, placing his hands on the inside of Jonghyun’s knees and pushing them farther apart. Jonghyun cracks an eye open at him. “S-Seongwoo,” he stutters out, his eyes impossibly glazed and oiled, voice more of a breath than anything else.
Remaining silent, Seongwoo places an index finger on Jonghyun’s rim, and a garbled moan falls from Jonghyun’s lips. “F-Four?” Minhyun asks, a slight amount of surprise lining the tone of his voice. “Are you--”
“Yes,” Jonghyun breathes out, “I’ll need it.”
Seongwoo smirks as he pushes in his index finger alongside Jonghyun’s own three, and Jonghyun’s eyes roll to the back of his head. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple, faced directly up to the ceiling, bobs erratically along with the uncontrollable rhythms of the waves of his chest created by his breathing.
With the first thrust of four, Jonghyun utters out a low and long groan, his jaw clenching and unclenching, lips trembling, because four is a stretch that’s unbearably painful. But at this point, that pain’s almost become indistinguishable for him -- it’s so overpowering that it numbs his body and instead weakens his limbs. His thighs shake violently, the position he holds only stable because of Seongwoo’s hand on his knee, and now Minhyun’s scooted over, holding apart his other leg for him. Even despite his control dwindling, he still thrusts his hips forward to meet the pushes of his and Seongwoo’s fingers, his ass rubbing against the carpet below him. “Stop,” he whispers, several seconds later, because the carpet is beginning to burn his skin, and he decides he’s been stretched enough.
Seongwoo and Minhyun continue to watch with curiosity and intent as they sit back. Jonghyun’s somehow become the ringleader in this, and the two other men wait for his dictation.
With the reach of an arm, Jonghyun brings the packet of lube up to his lips, tearing it open with his teeth. Still gripping the packet in his jaw, he gets on his hands and knees and crawls over to Minhyun, shifting his weight onto the latter’s thighs, and with bated breath Minhyun watches him, eyes never leaving his face, even when he falls backwards onto the carpet with a muffled thud. Jonghyun makes himself comfortable, and the only warning Minhyun receives besides Jonghyun squeezing the lube into his palm is the narrowing of his eyes in a confidently coy manner.
“O-Oh fuck,” Minhyun hisses, when he feels the alarming sensation of the combined hot of Jonghyun’s palm and the cold of the lube running along his cock, pumping up-down up-down, slowly, languidly, slicking him up from base to tip. His hips rise into Jonghyun’s hand, but Jonghyun’s touch is quickly lost a few seconds later.
However, it’s easily replaced with the press of Jonghyun’s rim against the head of Minhyun’s cock, and Minhyun lets out a small gasp, his fingers threading their way to grip onto Jonghyun’s hips and help align him. Jonghyun sinks down without another word, and he sharply sucks in breath as he slowly descends, only exhaling when he’s seated to the hilt. “S-Seongwoo,” he hisses, “f-finger me.”
Seongwoo almost laughs. Minhyun can hear the slight breathy surprise in his voice as he speaks. “Alright, Jonghyun.” He scoots forward, and Jonghyun lifts himself up, his thighs trembling slightly, until only the head of Minhyun’s cock remains inside him. Seongwoo slides his finger between Jonghyun’s rim and Minhyun’s dick, and Minhyun’s breath hitches at the additional touch. The next moment, Jonghyun shakily lets himself sink down again, until he’s finally seated on both Minhyun’s cock and Seongwoo’s finger.
“F-Fuck,” Minhyun stutters out, throwing his head back, as Jonghyun begins to rise again.
“Y-Yeah,” Jonghyun breathes out, his head lolling to the side, and he begins to gradually increase the pace of his movement. Soon, Seongwoo slips in a second finger, and Jonghyun chokes, nearly falling forward, because the stretch is borderline insane, and stars are beginning to fly at the edges of his vision, sparking with both an irrational pain and an electrifying pleasure. The way he’s digging his nails into Minhyun’s abdomen will leave markings for sure, but if that’s the expense of seeing and feeling Jonghyun on his cock, barely able to brace himself forward, his chest heaving with wet pants, eyes closed in a twisted lust, then it’s something Minhyun is willing to spend.
When Seongwoo prods a third finger, Jonghyun shakes his head. “You,” he half whispers, half hisses, looking over his shoulder at Seongwoo, and in that single word, it’s enough for Seongwoo to understand his meaning.
“...Both of us?” Seongwoo asks, frowning. “Uh--”
“Yes,” Jonghyun seethes, gritting his teeth, his voice a combination of anxiety, frustration, and desperation.
Seongwoo huffs with a slight smirk, and he spits into his palm, rubbing his hands together before he slicks up his cock, his breath hitching at the first direct contact his dick has had the whole evening. He climbs closer, settling on Minhyun’s thighs, and Jonghyun raises his hips so that only the head of Minhyun’s cock remains in him. Minhyun sees that the trembling in Jonghyun’s legs has grown even more distraught, and so he grips tighter onto Jonghyun’s hips in an attempt to steady him. Seongwoo presses the tip of his dick to Jonghyun’s rim, and both Jonghyun and Minhyun let out rushed breaths.
“Ready?” Seongwoo murmurs, bracing a hand on Jonghyun’s shoulder, and Jonghyun hangs his head as a way of nodding, before he presses himself down.
“Holy sh--” he hisses, “oh my god, oh my god--”
Seongwoo leans forward and buries his lips in the sweaty, glistening skin at the junction of Jonghyun’s neck and shoulder, both as a way of muffling his own groans and attempting to drain some of Jonghyun’s pain through the mouthing of his wet kisses and comforting nips of his teeth. Soon, the glide becomes easier, and Jonghyun’s breaths steady, although he’s still digging his teeth so intensely into his bottom lip that there’s the sharp tang of iron against his tongue when he purses his lips. His body feels like it’s being lit on fire from all ends -- it’s almost too hot, being held by two people like this, with Minhyun’s fingernails digging crescents into his hips and Seongwoo’s large palms snaking around the small of his waist. The sensation of being so absolutely full sends a dull ache throbbing in his lower abdomen, but it’s the comfortable kind of ache, the kind of ache that encourages him to move; and when he raises his hips, he nearly shouts out loud, but there are Seongwoo’s fingers prying at his lips, breaking his voice into a string of garbled choking noises.
“You’ll be okay, you’re doing f-fine--” Seongwoo stutters out, his breath heating Jonghyun’s ear, and Minhyun below him pants, chest rising up and down heavily, because the rubbing of Seongwoo’s cock alongside his and the clenching of Jonghyun around both of them is sending his senses into overdrive.
“Y-Yeah,” Jonghyun whispers, and Minhyun’s hands come up to rub on his thighs soothingly. He focuses on that roughened, but simultaneously soft sensation, as he begins to build a steadier pace of up and down. Seongwoo turns Jonghyun's head towards him with a palm on his cheek and kisses him as one of Minhyun’s hands detaches from Jonghyun's thigh and clutches onto one of his palms that’re braced on Minhyun’s chest.
The heat in Jonghyun’s stomach pools easily, and it quite quickly overrides the previous pain of being stretched so wide. His thighs quiver, muscles weakened, and soon his movements are awkward and faulty, so Seongwoo and Minhyun help stable him by moving their own hips. It’s not even much long later when he feels the coil in his lower abdomen sparking, pulling tighter and tighter as the heat from his movements and Minhyun and Seongwoo’s thrusts pool into his arousal. “I-I--” he stutters, head falling forward, fingernails digging painfully into Minhyun’s ribs. “Holy fuck--” He comes several seconds later, nearly falling forward on top of Minhyun if not for Seongwoo’s hands on his waist, squeezing his eyes shut as fireworks fly all over his vision, his orgasm wracking through his body. Ropes of white appear on his and Minhyun’s abdomens as he rides out on his high.
Minhyun groans, his head thrown back, because as Jonghyun comes, his insides clamp around both his and Seongwoo’s cocks -- the fit was extremely tight and extremely hot beforehand, but with Jonghyun pulsing around Minhyun now, his blood boils underneath his skin, and it’s unbearable. He comes as well, just several seconds later, his hands gripping into Jonghyun’s hips with an iron strength, creating indents that both know will bruise, and his stomach and chest convulse as he desperately tries to suck in breath.
Seongwoo pulls himself out with a grunt just as Minhyun and Jonghyun are beginning to recover. Gathering the last bit of his strength, Minhyun pushes Jonghyun, who had fallen on top of him, to the side, and Jonghyun rolls over, gripping his own hair with a hand as he tries to calm his breaths. Minhyun approaches Seongwoo, collapsing on top of the latter, and he sinks his teeth into the helix of Seongwoo’s ear as one of his hands comes to wrap around his cock.
“Oh--” Seongwoo goes, but it’s muffled as Minhyun smashes their lips together, strength now being fueled solely by his own desperation and desire to get Seongwoo off. Seongwoo pants damply into Minhyun’s mouth, his eyes blown wide, beads of sweat trailing down his temples, and Minhyun sucks on his tongue in time with his strokes. With a groan into Minhyun’s lips, Seongwoo comes a few seconds later, sticky and heated wet coating Minhyun’s fingers. The come is easily ignored, and Minhyun finally lets his hand rest, still gripped loosely around Seongwoo’s now flaccid cock. The two stare at each other, their lips still pressed, but not kissing, and the air they share is the exact same -- muddled and unbearably hot, but a kind of unbearable that’s oddly comforting. It’s only when Jonghyun achingly shifts over and grabs onto Minhyun’s wrist, tugging slightly, does Minhyun roll over, leaving Seongwoo staring up at the ceiling with the edges of his vision still wavering.
“You’ve got your answer, now?” Minhyun rasps, after a minute of silence.
“Not yet,” Seongwoo responds, his voice just as cracked and broken. Minhyun isn’t sure if he’s joking, for his tone indicated nothing of the sort.
“W-What a liar,” Jonghyun croaks, and if Minhyun shifts his head, he can see Jonghyun angling his gaze towards Seongwoo. There’s a quiet huff from Seongwoo, his lips barely managing to curl their way up into a halfway smile. He rolls over onto his side, facing Minhyun, and he snakes a hand over to grab onto one of his wrists. Jonghyun painstakingly scoots forward, the heaviness in his hips apparent, but nothing severe enough to hinder his intent, and slides his fingers over Minhyun’s other wrist.
“Your pulse,” he begins, and licks his lips, attempting to alleviate their dryness, “can say a lot about you.”
Minhyun’s gaze flickers to Seongwoo as Seongwoo brings his hand up to his mouth, and places the most fleeting of kisses on the back of Minhyun's hand, his eyes tilted downwards.
Jonghyun’s thumb runs over the inside of Minhyun’s wrist -- the feeling is slightly ticklish, but it fizzes into a numb warmth as he places pressure with his finger, right over where he knows Minhyun’s pulse is.
There’s silence in the room for almost half a minute, only interrupted in moments by the hazing of their breaths. When Jonghyun speaks, he finds his voice has lost a fair amount of its raspiness. “One-hundred-and-eight over seventy-two.” He shifts himself closer, and Minhyun watches him with a lidded gaze. The barest of his lips graze across Minhyun’s cheek, the breaths he exhales roll over the expanse of Minhyun’s skin. “Relaxation or satiation?”
And then, there’s Seongwoo’s hand running through his hair, a kiss placed above his brow. “Or neither? Or something more?”