jimin wakes up slowly, warm and a little sweaty beneath taehyung’s impressive collection of blankets and the two bodies beside him. he stretches all the way down to his toes, his back letting out an impressive crack.
“gross, hyung,” jungkook mutters, surfacing from their mess of pillows with rumpled hair and a sleep-crease down the side of his face. he dips down to press his lips to jimin’s forehead, slumping half on top of him like a weighted blanket. “morning.”
“mm, good morning, baby.” jimin mumbles the words against jungkook’s cheek, and then blows a raspberry for good measure. taehyung presses closer from behind, flopping a leg over jimin’s hip, sporting an impressive half-chub in his boxers. jimin reaches a hand back to tangle his fingers in taehyung’s curls, sighing at the soft press of lips against his shoulder. “hi, taehyungie.”
taehyung snuggles closer, still very much half-asleep. jungkook huffs out a laugh and reaches over jimin to squeeze lightly at taehyung’s hip. jimin lets himself melt into the safety and warmth of their hold, fingers twisting in the thin fabric of jungkook’s t-shirt. there’s some shifting, and jungkook lifts himself up to kiss taehyung over jimin’s head. taehyung hums, hand twitching against jimin’s side, cock twitching against jimin’s ass.
jimin smiles sleepily into the pillow, reaching back to guide taehyung’s hips forward in a slow, gentle grind. he feels taehyung’s chest rise sharply, hears his breath stutter as he breaks away from jungkook to ask, “you sure, j’min-ah?”
the question only makes him surer. “yeah, baby,” he whispers, safe and warm between the two of them. they always ask, even when jimin initiates. they always make sure. “but if you wanna go any farther than this you’re gonna have to let me roll over so jungkookie can reach you.”
taehyung hums his affirmative and buries his face in the nape of jimin’s neck, hips rolling slow and firm against the swell of jimin’s ass. it’s nice to be close like this, sandwiched between the two of them in a cluster of limbs. he feels a little dazed, a little nebulous, his own body molding against the curves of theirs—taehyung’s hand on his hip, jungkook’s fingers tracing his jaw.
“can i kiss you?” jungkook asks, because even though the answer is almost always a resounding yes, there are some days where certain touches make jimin feel like his bones are rattling beneath his skin, mind buzzing and chest tight—and while today is clearly not one of those days, he still asks, and jimin loves him. jimin loves him—the both of them—so much it feels like the entire world isn’t big enough to contain it.
“yes,” jimin says, tilting his head up to meet jungkook halfway.
jimin hums into the kiss, warmth spreading all the way down to the tips of his toes. he feels safe and content in the knowledge that he’s being kissed just for the sake of kissing, that this is enough—that he is enough.
taehyung’s hips kick forward the second jimin’s mouth opens beneath jungkook’s, jostling them both. “sorry,” he breathes, fingers tightening their hold on jimin’s hip, and jungkook laughs against jimin’s lips. warm, warm, warm. “you’re both so pretty.”
jungkook reaches over jimin to brush his fingers through taehyung’s curls, lips smushed against jimin’s cheek, and jimin has one hand on taehyung’s lower back and the other pressed to jungkook’s chest. they’re all connected, tangled together with threaded fingers and invisible red strings. jungkook tugs lightly at taehyung’s hair and taehyung gasps, his cock now fully hard and firm against the curve of jimin’s ass.
“don’t tease,” he whines, pressing his face into jimin’s bedhead.
jungkook pouts exaggeratedly at him. “but you’re so cute when you’re flustered.”
“i’m cute all the time,” taehyung says, voice muffled by the hair in his mouth, “be nice to me.”
jungkook responds by poking him in the side, and taehyung yelps indignantly, jerking away and leaving jimin’s entire back open to the air-conditioned cold of their bedroom. he huffs loudly, reaching back blindly for taehyung and smacking insistently at the arm he finds. “come back.”
“tell jungkookie to apologize,” taehyung says, and jungkook snickers.
jimin pokes jungkook in the chest. “apologize. i’m suffering because of your inability to behave.”
“oh, we can’t have that.”
“brat,” jimin mutters, smacking a wet kiss to jungkook’s eye that leaves him sputtering. “taehyungie-baby, c’mere.” he flops onto his back and lets his arm fall across the expanse of bed between them. taehyung dutifully rolls into his rightful place against jimin’s side, curling up with a leg hiked up over jimin’s waist. he’s very much still hard, lips pushed out in the prettiest, sleepiest pout. jimin coos, dusting his nose and chubby cheeks with dew-drop kisses, palm flat against the small of taehyung’s back. “you wanna keep going?”
taehyung hums and resumes the slow roll of his hips, this time against jimin’s thigh. he sticks his tongue out at jungkook and laughs, bright and happy, at the affronted look he receives in return.
“you’re lucky you’re hot,” jungkook mutters, slumping against jimin’s other side.
it’s unclear who he’s speaking to—probably the both of them, honestly—but taehyung scoffs anyway. “you’re the one who started it!”
“real mature, hyung.”
jimin traces a finger down taehyung’s crack and presses, effectively cutting off any rebuttal and replacing it with a gorgeous gasp. jimin doesn’t often enjoy being on the receiving end of these sort of touches, but giving them? being the reason behind those pretty little noises, the jerk of taehyung’s hips, the hunger in jungkook’s gaze?
yeah. jimin likes that.
jungkook reaches out to brush his thumb across taehyung’s bottom lip, smiling when taehyung’s mouth falls open at the touch. “pretty hyung,” he murmurs, before dropping a kiss to jimin’s chest. “both of you. love you so much.”
“mmm, love you,” taehyung sighs, fingers twisting in the fabric of jimin’s t-shirt. he drags his cock against jimin’s leg, lips forming the prettiest o. “feels good. thank you, jiminie.”
“of course, baby,” jimin says softly, dipping down for a kiss, “anything for you.”
jungkook lets his hand fall against taehyung’s ass, kneading, massaging, guiding the roll of his hips. he and jimin watch together in awe as taehyung slowly falls apart, moaning low and sweet, honey dripping from his lips. he’s always beautiful, mesmerizing, even, but there’s something so otherworldly about the way he looks when he’s hurtling towards the edge.
“hyung,” jungkook murmurs, “hyung, are you getting close?” taehyung nods because he’s always so sensitive in the morning, forehead knocking against jimin’s shoulder. jungkook smiles indulgently, kisses jimin’s cheek, asks, “do you mind if i take over?”
jimin hums, fingers trailing through taehyung’s hair. “not at all.”
jungkook blows a soft raspberry against jimin’s lips. “is it okay if i get my mouth on him? or d’you want us covered?”
he asks it so simply, like it’s no big deal—and to jungkook, to taehyung, it really, genuinely isn’t. jimin knows with complete certainty that they’ll be perfectly happy to go along with whatever he decides. they love him so wholly, unconditionally and without any reservations.
they love him because of, not in spite of.
“he’ll finish quicker if you blow him,” jimin says with a shrug, smiling when taehyung’s breath hitches, “and then we can go back to sleep for a little while before breakfast.”
“sounds good, hyung,” jungkook says, before promptly crawling over jimin and pushing taehyung onto his back. taehyung goes easily with a small oof, back arching. jimin scooches back a little and rolls onto his side in order to get the best view possible—because while watching doesn’t always do much for him, he loves to see the way taehyung and jungkook move in tandem, pushing and pulling like a wave against the shore. sometimes, he’ll get hard and rub one off while they do their thing, but right now—right now, jimin is sleepy. he snuggles a little deeper into their comforter and sighs, content.
jungkook shoves taehyung’s sleep shirt up, immediately descending on his perfect belly with a flurry of kisses. taehyung’s breathy laughter floats through the air like fairy dust, blanketing jimin in warmth and happiness.
“you’re so beautiful, hyung,” jungkook says, voice reverent. he trails his fingers down taehyung’s tummy, thumbs pressing into the dips above his hip bones. he uses his grip to drag the waistband of taehyung’s boxers down until his cock springs free, flushed and dripping and impossibly pretty. jimin feels fairly indifferent about dicks in general, but he thinks that taehyung’s is beautiful—mostly because of the wonderful human it's attached to.
in one swift movement, jungkook’s got taehyung most of the way in his mouth, hands firm against his waist to keep him from jerking upwards. “god,” taehyung manages, voice raspy and raw, “fuck. god, you feel so—” he cuts himself off with a lewd moan, eyes rolling back as jungkook takes him deeper. “oh god. oh fuck. jungkookie—”
without thinking, jimin reaches out to trace a finger down taehyung’s forearm. he watches delightedly as taehyung shivers and turns his desperate gaze on jimin. he props himself up on one elbow and leans over taehyung, drops his other hand in jungkook’s hair—sees the aftermath of jungkook’s happy hum clear as day on taehyung’s face.
“look so pretty,” jimin murmurs, dipping down to kiss the cupid’s bow of taehyung’s lip. “love you both so much.”
“love you,” taehyung gasps, eyes scrunching shut, “love you, love jungkookie. jimin-ah. jimin. m’gonna—m’about to—”
jimin hushes him and nods, murmuring his thanks as he peppers sweet kisses across taehyung’s forehead. they always make sure to warn him before they finish, because jimin’s got a bit of a complicated relationship with being directly involved in someone’s orgasm. sometimes—like right now—it’s nice, intimate. a way to be close. other times, it makes his skin crawl, puts him outside his own body, makes his stomach flip up into his chest.
it all depends—it always depends, and jimin never knows what he’s okay with until the moment is upon him. it’s frustrating and occasionally downright upsetting, because what he wants can change from one second to the next depending on the smallest detail.
but taehyung and jungkook have never been anything less than perfectly patient, wonderfully understanding. they’ve never made him feel difficult, never blamed him for changing his mind or stopping something that’s already well in motion. they check and then they check again, careful to make sure he’s comfortable and enjoying himself every step of the way. they warn him and ask for express permission before doing anything he might not be expecting.
(jimin thinks that might actually be a thing for them—asking permission, that is. he thinks maybe one time he’ll toy around with saying no just for the sake of saying no.)
taehyung cums with a silent cry, back arching prettily off the bed. jungkook swallows it all, rubbing soothingly at taehyung’s thighs, hips, waist as he floats back down to earth. he straightens up and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, laughing when jimin crinkles his nose.
“cute,” he says, and jimin rolls his eyes, drops a kiss to taehyung’s sweaty forehead.
“j’minie,” taehyung murmurs, hand grappling in the sheets until their fingers intertwine. “jungkookie’s still hard.”
jungkook flushes and ducks his head. he busies himself with pulling taehyung’s boxers up, says, “i’m okay, hyungs, really.”
“go ahead and finish, baby,” jimin says, making sure to keep his voice gentle because he knows just how easily jungkook melts under this specific tone. for all his bratty bravado, he just wants to be taken care of—and jimin absolutely loves to take care of his baby. “what do you want? d’you want to cum on taehyung’s tummy?”
jungkook’s cock twitches in his boxers.
“mm,” taehyung hums, already halfway dozing. he leans into jimin’s hand, the one that’s playing with his hair, says, “please, jungkookie? want it.”
“you two are going to kill me,” jungkook says, voice strained, “like, actually kill me.”
“you already sucked my soul out through my dick,” taehyung mumbles, head lolling lazily, “you’d deserve it. now go get the sex towel.”
the sex towel is a specific, baby pink towel designated strictly for—well, sex purposes. jimin is very particular about body fluids in the bed, which is cool because so is jungkook. the only difference is that jungkook’s a-okay with cum in general as long as it's contained—to mouths, condoms, far away from their clean sheets and clothes—while jimin just thinks it's sort of gross.
they watch as jungkook clambers off the bed and waddles into the bathroom, dick bobbing as he goes. taehyung purses his lips for a kiss, says, “one more before you exit the blast zone, please.”
jimin snorts right into taehyung’s mouth, which makes taehyung giggle, which leaves jungkook shaking his head at them in amusement when he returns. “you guys are weird.”
“blast zone,” jimin repeats in a whisper, which sets the both of them off into another peal of laughter.
jungkook climbs back onto the bed, tapping taehyung on the waist until he lifts his hips and jungkook can slide the towel beneath him. jimin rolls away, leaving what he deems to be a safe amount of space between them.
“we should invest in goggles,” taehyung murmurs, yawning. he runs a hand down his chest and jungkook traces the movement hungrily.
“cum goggles?” jimin asks, intrigued.
“yeah,” taehyung nods, “just in case.”
jungkook makes an affronted noise. “i don’t cum that much. none of us do.”
“you hit me in the eye literally last week.”
“that’s the distance, not the volume—”
“you’re the one who made it about volume, not me.”
jungkook shoves his boxers down and gets a hand on himself as they continue to bicker, because arguing is like a weird form of foreplay for the two of them. taehyung’s fingers trace intricate patterns across jungkook’s thighs where he’s straddling taehyung’s waist, boxers shoved down at the waistband and bunched up at his legs.
pretty, jimin thinks. they’re both so pretty.
he’s starting to feel a little warm beneath the covers, his body reacting to the stimuli in front of him—jungkook bucking into his own fist, eyes rolled back, taehyung’s voice low and gentle, now praising instead of teasing. jimin’s half hard in his sweatpants by the time he hears taehyung murmur, “that’s it, baby. come for hyung,” and watches as jungkook paints taehyung’s tummy white.
it passes soon enough, replaced by something soft and decadent—almost like he’s gooey at his center, melty and warm at the sight of taehyung propped up on his elbows to meet jungkook in a gentle kiss, belly creasing cutely between them. jungkook presses closer, tattooed hands cupping taehyung’s chubby cheeks, nothing but the wet sound of their kiss and the heaviness of their breath permeating through the room like a summer breeze.
they separate with a final, close-mouthed kiss, and jungkook gets to work carefully cleaning taehyung up, making sure every last bit of mess is transferred to the towel. he presses a kiss to taehyung’s forehead and sends a brilliant smile jimin’s way.
“let me stick this in the hamper and we can go back to sleep.”
“wash your hands,” taehyung reminds him sleepily, tugging his shirt down and curling onto his side.
“i know, i know.”
he shuffles off, and taehyung’s gaze falls on jimin. “i didn’t touch anything,” he says, “but i can still wash my hands if you need me to.”
there are days that jimin would absolutely need him to. sometimes, jimin can’t touch them until they’ve showered, can’t get back in the bed til the sheets are completely changed, even if nothing got on them. sometimes he can’t even be in the same room as them until they’re done, all because his head is just. not in the right place to be involved.
sometimes, sex is not a sweet morning intimacy or a late-night desperation, a way to blow off steam or get a little playful. sometimes, sex is anxiety-inducing, a cause for discomfort and panic.
jimin gave up on trying to put himself in a box a long time ago. the textbook definition of asexuality doesn’t fit him, and that fact alone stopped him from identifying as such for entire years of his life. his attitude towards sex changes daily, and even though he feels positive towards it most of the time, even if he often enjoys having it himself, it’s still not all the time. he’s had past partners give him shit for being too finicky, for changing his mind too often, for being okay with something one day and not okay with it the next.
he’s never had that issue with taehyung and jungkook. they understand, because they understand him. they take him for everything he is, everything he isn’t, everything in between—and they love him fiercely for all of it.
“s’okay,” jimin says softly, smiling. warm. i know you’re clean. c’mere.”
taehyung happily wiggles closer, fitting himself like molded clay against jimin’s side. he throws an arm over jimin’s waist and nuzzles into his neck, humming sweetly when jimin starts to play with his hair.
jungkook returns less than thirty seconds later, hands freshly washed and smelling of lavender. he wiggles his fingers at jimin and proudly announces, “all clean!” before flopping on top of them. jimin smells the minty toothpaste on his breath and smiles, tilting his chin up for a kiss. jungkook beams back at him, eyes crinkling, and presses their lips together with a happy sigh.
when they break apart, jungkook rolls over taehyung to settle on his other side, a leg thrown haphazardly across both of his boyfriends. taehyung lets out an annoyed little growl, already most of the way asleep, and jimin coos, pets his hair.
“is jungkookie being mean to you again?” he asks, sugar-sweet, and taehyung nods pitifully. “my poor baby.”
jungkook gasps, betrayed. “asshole!”
taehyung flips him off and curls up tighter against jimin’s chest, mumbles, “jimin-ah, i think kookie should make us breakfast in bed.”
“absolutely not. you’ve been ganging up on me all morning.”
“only because you deserve it.”
“i do not! i’m so nice to you all the time!”
jimin laces his fingers with jungkook’s. he squeezes back but it doesn’t deter the bickering—if anything, he just needles taehyung more. their voices are a familiar cadence, the rhythm of jimin’s own heartbeat played back to him on a loop. he listens to them and sinks back into their mass of pillows, feeling warm, warm, warm.