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The Gentlemen

Chapter Text

You wake up with a pounding headache, faint whispers of a nightmare with long shadows and wounded glares, a familiar face wracked with hurt.

Your heart thuds sickly in your chest as you fumble for the phone on your nightstand, wincing at the sharp light of the screen. Earlier than you would have liked, but you need reassurance of the conversation you’d had the night before.

Not the one in the rec room - you still grimace at the thought of how badly you handled it - but the text conversation held much later, one that had eased your worries then. You hoped it could still provide that relief now that guilt was pooling up inside you again.

When starting the show, you’d been given everybody’s phone numbers but hadn’t really needed to use them. So late last night it had come as a shock to you when your phone buzzed, lighting up with Kim Namjoon on the screen.

Part of you had been worried that he was going to yell at you or be crying on the other end. Biting at your nail, you’d let it go through to voicemail. Less than a minute after your screen went dark again, leaving you in shadow, regret had seized you, and you’d rushed to pull up his contact, sending a text. You look over it now.

> namjoon?

| Are you mad at me?

> what?? no, i thought u were mad at me : (
I tried to call to apologise. I crossed a line and made things weird.
> nonono u dont have to apologise!! i reacted v badly
> and i dont want u to think that it means i dont like u
> i was just surprised

| *surprised
| Sorry. That wasn't helpful.
| But I do want to apologise.
| Irrelevant of how I feel, there was no reason for me to spring it on you now. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.


| ...Please say something

> oh sorry! i was waiting for u to finish
> but like... lets be real this is a very weird situation for all of us
> i dont think theres a protocol for how we r meant to be dealing w it you know?
> so dont sweat it
> pls dont feel bad

| Okay.
| Thank you.

> i could come down and suck ur dick if it would cheer u up?
> if u want o.o


> namjoon?
> are you there?

| You can't just spring that on me! I have to go deal with something...

> oh? so sad ur doing it alone :<
> ill get u sometime this week namjoonie dw
> goodnight xxxx

| Goodnight xx
| And please don't feel guilty! Let's call it even. If you need me tomorrow, I'll probably be going for a walk outside again. It's sunny until Thursday but raining all weekend so I want to enjoy it while I can.

> for someone whos meant to be jacking off rn ur sure doing a lot of talking o.0

He hadn’t replied after that, so instead you send him a quick good morning text now before getting up out of bed.

When you get ready and go downstairs, anxiety easing once more, you see that true to his word, Namjoon’s outside walking again.

If any of the other guys know it’s your fault, they don’t say anything, Yoongi silently smiling in greeting from where he sits at the kitchen bench, hunched over a cup of coffee like it’s a lifeline, scrolling on his phone.

“Morning,” you say with a yawn, gravitating towards the still-steaming electric jug. Past Yoongi, the sight you’re greeted by in the adjacent lounge area gives you pause.

Completely unawares to your entrance, several figures gather around the coffee table, where Hoseok is sitting with eyes closed and mouth hung open, moaning pornographically at the hands that expertly dig into him, massaging his muscles.

Behind him, Taehyung’s dressed in nothing but black boxers and a rosy silk robe, brows furrowed in focus and lips twitching with satisfaction as he rolls his thumbs between Hoseok’s shoulder blades, kneading out the tension.

Yoongi sighs. “They’ve been doing it for over an hour. Hoseok’s only the second person to get a go and Seokjin and I are still waiting. Taehyung just finished Jungkook, that’s why he looks dead.”

True to word, Jungkook’s body is splayed out on the couch beside the action, boneless like a corpse, eyes lidded and hair in a tangled nest. Yoongi calls out to him to confirm he’s still alive, receiving a wordless grunt in response.

“He’s fine,” Yoongi decides. “Do you want a go? Lady of the house, I bet you could skip the line.”

“I think I’d rather check how long it takes Jungkook to recover. I can’t be out of commission for the whole day.”

Yoongi hums thoughtfully, finishing off his coffee. “I guess Jungkook can now that he’s done his prompt. Not really much else for him to do except wait to see if he’s staying or not.” He bites his lip for a minute, jaw working as he mulls it over. “Do you have any thoughts so far? About who’s maybe going, who’s definitely staying?”

You shrug. “Seems pointless to consider before you guys have all finished, you know? Either way the decision is going to suck. I’d rather just enjoy myself for now.”

Yoongi pauses while a moaned curse fills the room, Taehyung’s elbow now running down Hoseok’s spine as he bends over, hands splayed on the table to keep himself steady. The older man huffs out a laugh at their antics. “Hoseok really doesn’t seem bothered, huh? I don’t think I’ve seen him trying to put the moves on you once.”

You grin, side-eying him. “What; have you been watching me? But no, he hasn’t, really. I’m glad to see them comfortable to be here, you know? This could have easily been so awkward for all of us.”

Yoongi hums in thought, nodding eventually. “That’s true. It’s a good bunch of guys they’ve managed to pick.”

“You included,” you add with a nudge to his shoulder. “You aren’t going to whip it out in the middle of the kitchen and get your turn over and done with?”

“Are you wanting me to?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow in contained surprise. “But no; I’m still mulling mine over. Seeing what the others do, what you like. I’m patient.” You stare at him, eyes searching for any signs of deception, but he seems genuine. He turns to you with a droll look and jerks his chin towards the lounge. “Taehyungie on the other hand looks like he’s warming up for the main event.”

“Does he now?” you murmur under your breath, looking over to the lounge area, where Hoseok has replaced Jungkook for most boneless contestant, spread-eagle on the carpet and sighing happily. Seokjin’s now under Taehyung’s grasp, lips not stopping for a second as he instructs Taehyung on where exactly to press and how hard. Taehyung, however, has his eyes on you, and a bolt of shock runs through you when your gazes connect.

“Come on over,” Taehyung calls out with an inviting smile. “Seokjin-hyung is almost finished.”

“Hey, you brat, you only just sta-ow!”

Jin jumps like he’s been shocked, rubbing at the base of his neck with an expression like a wounded puppy.

“There,” Taehyung announces firmly, “finished. Y/n, come over!”

Yoongi pushes you closer with a fond shove. “Go get ‘em, tiger. Preferably in a different location to me.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” you quip in a singsong voice.

“Oh, when it comes to it, I won’t be the one begging,” he answers casually.

You falter, open-mouthed, but Yoongi has already turned back to his phone, the faintest hint of a smirk still tugging at his lips.

Going over to the couches, you step over Hoseok’s splayed-out limbs and throw Jin an apologetic smile. The oldest contestant joins Jungkook on the couch, chatting in a low murmur with the blissed-out boy.

Taehyung waves for you to sit down on the coffee table, and you do, eying up the collection of suspicious and rather wet-looking bottles just beside you.

“Pick your poison,” Taehyung chimes when he sees your dubious glance. “Massage oils. There’s lavender, jasmine, eucalytpus and spearmint, almond oil, calendula and coconut oil - that one doubles up as lube - and jojoba oil.”

You blink, feeling overwhelmed. “Uh… What did the others use?”

“Hoseok got almond oil, Seokjin had the jojoba one, and Jungkook asked for the lubey one.”

“Of course he did,” you murmur. “I’ll have the jasmine one, if that’s okay?”

Though Taehyung seems a little disappointed at your choice, he wipes the oil on his hands off on his pants, leaving glossy smears on the soft black fabric, and reaches for the appropriate bottle. He’s dressed comfortably, just loose black cotton pants and an equally baggy tee, faded green. The thick curls of his hair still hang in his eyes, but it doesn’t seem to bother him as he cracks the lid of the bottle, pouring a generous amount of thin oil in his palm. “You’ll have to take your shirt off,” he points out, capping the bottle again.

You frown, looking over at the other guys around the room. “They didn’t take their shirts off.”

“Hoseok pushes down his sleeves, Jungkook did actually take off his shirt, he just put it back on once he was done, and Seokjin’s- Seokjin had a speedy massage.”

“Speedy, my ass,” Seokjin complains from on the couch, jostling the black-haired boy who’s fallen asleep on his shoulder.

Ignoring him, Taehyung warms the oil between his hands slowly. The sight of glistening skin, thick drops running down his forearms where he’d poured a bit too much, and the lidded look in his eyes has you obeying, and you awkwardly slip out of your shirt, balling it up and holding the fabric in your lap.

Taehyung hums in approval, stepping up behind you and nudging you into position with the backs of his hands, knuckles pressing against the bare skin of your shoulders. You feel awkward, sitting in the middle of a room of guys in your bra, but you suppose it’s probably good practice considering the show you’re on. At least you still had-

“Could you push the straps down?” Taehyung’s voice asks lowly from behind you, already slipping into a sensual drawl, the one he must be used to putting on for clients. “We’ll start with a shoulder massage.”

Great. With an unsteady breath, you shuffle them down one at a time, jumping when warm, slippery hands rest on your bare skin.

“Relax,” he coos, and the more he speaks the more you forget your surroundings, the other people there. “Can you close your eyes for me?” You nod, not trusting your voice. After your eyes have slipped shut, you hear him again, his voice like an anchor in a black, hazy ocean. “Take a big breath in for me. Good, and exhale. That’s it.”

Somewhere to your right, Jin pipes up. “I didn’t get this special treatment,” he points out with a petulant whine.

As his hands run up and down your upper arms and shoulders, spreading the oil, Taehyung doesn’t miss a beat. “If you don’t shut up, Seokjin-hyung,” he responds in that same sweet and husky tone, “the only treatment you’ll be getting is medical.”

Jin huffs, but leaves it at that, murmuring something you can’t quite pick up. As you shiver at the feeling of Taehyung’s smooth hands on you, dipping in front to lightly coat your collarbones and sternum, you hear what’s undoubtedly the muffled groan of Jungkook waking up. After that, a thud, an oof and three sets of footsteps patter away into the distance.

From further away, another voice, this time Yoongi. “I’m assuming I won’t be getting my massage, then?”

“Another time,” Taehyung calls out, the slightest hint of irritation. “You guys aren’t even paying me.”

The ceramic scrape of a coffee mug being placed in the sink and Yoongi leaves too, the only sound in the room Taehyung’s rich voice, smooth and velvety in your ear.

“Anyways, where were we?”

You crack a smile, eyes still closed. “I’ll give you another week’s accommodation here if you give me a good massage. Is that payment enough?”

He hums at that, almost like a purr. Slowly, you feel the gliding swoops of his fingers begin to slow, spots of pressure as his thumbs begin to deftly seek out any tension. “Is that so?” As his fingers dig in to the taut muscle just behind your shoulders, you feel yourself sigh, mouth falling slack. “I have to say, the coffee table isn’t the best place for a massage. I’d be able to give a better service if we relocate-”

You fight a moan as he targets a spot just to the right of your upper spine, pleasure rushing through your body at such a simple touch. “If you take your hands off me for a fucking second I’m kicking you out right now.” Though your voice is lofty with relaxation, the threat is there, and Taehyung presses deeper, triggering a cut-off moan that falls from your lips unbidden.

“Noted,” he says simply. “Eyes still closed?” At your subtle nod, he continues. “I want you to picture a meadow. Green grass, gentle sun. You can smell the flowers that bloom around you, carried by a gentle wind.”

With every word, and the nimble circling of his thumbs easing the knots of tension, you feel yourself unravelling. No longer is the floral perfume from the oil, but instead from petals of every colour, rising up between blades of soft grass. No longer is the cool moving air on your skin from the air conditioner, but a natural breeze that lifts your spirits. Through it all, his hands and his voice encompass you in a cocoon of bliss, head lolled back with the depth of it.

“It’s just the two of us in the meadow. We’re alone here. No responsibilities or deadlines or worries. We can be at peace.” You gasp, core clenching as his hands lift slightly, sliding over your oiled skin to wrap around your neck. But instead of applying pressure to your throat, his fingers find the nape of your neck, stimulating the muscles at the base of your scalp before they snake upwards through your hair, bold circles and decisive lines that have you sinking deeper into a blissful abyss, textured grass of the meadow in your mind morphing into soft sheets, the sun a warm blanket and Taehyung’s hands on yours not in your hair but drifting lower, lower…

You let out a strangled moan when you realise his hands moving downwards isn’t just in your dream, but in delicious reality.

“Shall we take this off?” his honeyed voice questions in a murmur, and it takes your fuzzy mind a moment or two to connect his voice to the feeling of a finger tugging at the strap of your bra where it meets the cup, his knuckles brushing against the swell of your breast.

Unable to form words, you nod breathlessly, eyes still clenched shut in pleasure.

Rather than remove it completely, Taehyung pushes the cups down, exposing you to the cool air. You hiss at the feeling on your peaked nipples, panting as his hands sweep down, pressing the flesh on either side of your breasts and cupping them in his hands. He must have stepped forward at some point, because you become aware of the way your back is tucked against his front, head at the level of his lower chest, and a distinctly recognisable hardness pressed to the middle of your spine.

The knowledge that he’s getting off on this awakes your nerves even more, and when you feel his fingers come in, rolling your nipples just hard enough to feel, it’s electric. You moan, sucking in gasps of air, his hands rising and falling with every shallow breath.

When Taehyung speaks again, his voice has changed; a little darker, fuller. “But you don’t want to be in a meadow, do you? I bet you wish you were splayed out on a bed, feeling my hands all over you, touching you, teasing you, fucking you. Because my hands aren’t the only thing you want, hm?” Your mouth never closes, an unending stream of moans and whimpers filling the air as he grinds himself slightly against you, hands slowly building up more pressure until he’s kneading your breasts and tugging roughly at your sensitive peaks. You realise now why he stepped forward; you’re pinned between him and his hands, writhing but unable to shake off the intense pleasure, though you wouldn’t want to. He keeps you close as he bends down, hooking a leg over the coffee table so that he’s sitting behind you, slipping his arms under yours to continue flicking and scraping your nipples, a new sensation of his teeth on your right earlobe joining the fray. You rock your hips, unable to find an angle that gives you any friction.

“You’re such a dirty girl,” Taehyung purrs in your ear, evoking a throaty groan in response. “Look at you, grinding at the table. I bet your pussy feels neglected, hm? Must be so wet for me and yet I won’t touch it. I’ll make you cum from this alone, make you soak your panties just from my hands on your perfect tits, how about that?”

“Please,” you whimper, feeling a high begin to build inside you, but one deeper than you’ve ever felt before, coming from a new source.

Taehyung’s fingers speed up, merciless as they wreck you, your nipples on fire even as they sing out in pleasure. He growls in satisfaction as you pant out his name. “That’s it. You filthy little thing; getting off to this. Are you going to cum for us?”

You suck in a breath, brows furrowing. Us? As your climax draws unbearably close, you force your eyes open, keening when a cool gaze greets you, the lazy smile and unruffled appearance of Jimin, watching you from the couch.

The sight of him, so calm and collected, fully dressed in his usual formal attire compared to your half-naked debauchery, sends you over the edge unable to break his gaze as your thighs shoot together like you’ve been shocked, trembling with the force of your orgasm, Taehyung’s fingers not letting up as he purrs sweet nothings into your ear, flooding your body with inescapable pleasure.

Jimin watches you intently as you fall apart in front of him, one leg crossed over the other and champagne silk shirt making his eyes seem even blacker in comparison. Though you’d been on camera the past two times you’d engaged in anything sexual, his gaze on you makes you cum harder than you ever have before, his unique quality of making you feel studied, analysed for every minute reaction.

Once you finally come down from your high, thighs shaking as they grind together and core throbbing, Taehyung takes your weight, letting you lean back against him. You tremble as he uncaps the bottle again, this time pouring a glossy streak directly on top of your breasts, the feeling of the cool liquid on your heated skin making you whimper and look down. Finally breaking Jimin’s gaze, you watch Taehyung’s hands collect the oil, massaging it gently over the tender skin, shushing you softly when you hiss and jump in oversensitivity.

As you gasp for air, the rest of your energy leaves you. Your head lolls back over Taehyung’s shoulder weakly, and you sigh as he presses a single soft kiss, right at the base of your neck, past your collarbone.

“Show’s over,” he says in a low tone, the melodious flow replaced by his usual voice. It takes you a moment of confusion to realise that he isn’t talking to you, but to Jimin.

You watch bleary-eyed as the blue-haired man stands up, smoothing out his pants before he steps up to the two of you. You go still in anticipation of him touching you, his eyes heavy as they run up and down your half-naked figure.

A single hand reaches out, fingers laden with silver, and you swear you don’t even breathe. Rather than your breasts or your face, however, his fingers find your throat, tightening just slightly as he watches you intently, head cocked to the side.

You can feel the cold metal of his rings digging into your throat, and when he applies enough pressure to restrict your airflow slightly, you let out a thin whimper, hips rocking against the table.

With a cat-like grin, he takes his hand away quicker than it came, stepping back. “Thought so,” he surmises with a lilt of satisfaction. His eyes lift up past you, to Taehyung. “Good show.”

Before your mind catches up to what just happened, he’s gone, the creak of the stairs the only sign that he was ever there.

You try to catch your breath, sitting up as your vision blurs for a moment, still feeling blissed out from the massage and orgasm. “Holy shit,” you make out, “what the fuck just happened?”

Taehyung gets up off the table but reaches a hand out to steady you, still slippery with oil on your shoulder. “A good show, apparently,” he quips, “though if you let me take you upstairs I can give you an even better one.”

Your hair must be a mess, your panties are sticking to you uncomfortably with the evidence of your orgasm, and your bra is still shoved halfway down your chest, but you take one look at the need in his eyes and the tent in his pants and you’re nodding. “Please, Tae. I need you.”

His eyes fall shut for a moment, like he’s savouring the comment, before he opens them again and fixes them on you. “Let’s go clean you up. And then we can make an even bigger mess.” He grabs the coconut oil, the one that he’d proudly declared had doubled as lube, and flicks you a wink.

Still with shaky legs, you slip your bra back on properly, wincing at the fabric over your sensitive nippes, and hastily slip on your shirt as you follow him up. “My bathroom?” you offer, knowing full well it would be bigger than his.

In front of you, making his way to the foot of the stairs, Taehyung pauses. “…Yeah,” he answers after a moment, “I think that counts.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, but let it slide, content to watch the outline of his ass in the thin cotton as he climbs the stairs. At the top, he turns right and makes his way to your room, opening the door with a bounce in his step.

Once inside, he beelines for the bathroom and curses lowly under his breath in awe. “This is huge,” he gushes. “A shower and a tub?” You watch in bemusement as he whirls around with a boxy grin on his face. “Can we have a bath, Y/n? With bubbles?”

His innocent glee combined with the fact that he was still rock hard in his pants makes you laugh. “Okay, sure, we can do that.” You make your way to the jacuzzi, but just as you’re reaching for the faucet, Taehyung stops you with a tug on your shirt.

“Not now,” he whines. “We haven’t had fun yet. C’mere.”

You let his grip on your shirt pull you back to him, enough momentum for him to dip his head and join his mouth to yours, the hand that grabbed at your shirt snaking around your waist to hold you close, your still-sensitive chest pressed against his. He kisses much like his massage; thorough, not holding back. His tongue runs over the seam of your lips hungrily, making you gasp, and he takes your parted lips as an invitation to devour you further, your head rocking back and force slightly with the depth of his motions. His free hand finds your hair again, winding it in his hand, tugging just enough to draw a moan from you, grinding against the hardness in pants.

“Taehyung,” you gasp as his teeth find your lower lip, nipping teasingly. “Please, I need you.”

He hums against you, licking into your mouth hungrily for one, two, three more moments before he pulls back, chest heaving. His eyes are like two points of black fire, burning into you from behind curls of hair, and the desire in his gaze has you breathless. “I’m gonna make you feel good,” he promises, ducking down to steal one last chaste kiss before he releases you, stepping away to grab a towel from the rack. It’s the same thick white kind of an expensive hotel’s, and he shakes it out, laying it on the floor. Grabbing another one but leaving it folded, he places it at the head of the towel, the side closest to the bathtub. “Let’s get these clothes off,” he guides with a husky voice.

You let him undress you, urgent but not rushed, placing every article of clothing on top of the vanity. You stand, breath hitching as he unhooks your bra, crowning each reddened nipple with a soft, reverent kiss. He kneels to undo the button of your jeans, sliding them and your panties down so smoothly that you don’t have time to be self-conscious before you’re naked. His fingers wind into yours, pulling you down and helping you lie down on your back. Your head is resting on the folded towel, and the feeling of the slightly rough fibres against your back, butt, and calves has you shivering.

“You just relax,” Taehyung murmurs from above you, running a comforting hand up and down your thigh as he kneels and uncaps the bottle of oil with one hand. You bite your lip, looking down your body to where he settles between your legs, spreading them. “Fuck, look at your perfect little pussy,” he swears. “So wet. Should we make it even wetter?”

You swallow and nod, gasping when he turns the bottle upside down, and a stream of glossy oil, slightly thicker than the other one, stripes across your lower abdomen in a broad arc. Taehyung looks so in his element as he caps the bottle and sets it beside him, palms flat as he collects the oil and spreads it, tongue peeking out of his lips in focus.

Due to being in the state of unbelievably turned on, even the feeling of his fingers slipping down the creases of your thighs has your muscles jumping, a jump as he skims past your core.

“Shh,” he soothes, voice dipping back into that sensual chant, “I’ve got you. Just relax. You can close your eyes if you want.”

But you shake your head. For now, you want to look up at him knelt between your legs, the shine of his elegant hands soaked in oils as they run over your inner thighs, stomach and mons pubis, avoiding where he knows you need him most. “It’s not fair,” you mumble, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. “I’m naked, and you’re still fully dressed.”

He scoffs softly, barely more than a puff of air, but pulls back to lift his shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly away. One of the more tanned men in the house, he’s a bronzed god, hard chest and soft stomach, biceps flexing with every nimble movement as his hands return to your quickly heating body. “Better?”

“Better,” you answer with a pleased smile, eyes roaming over the smooth lines and shallow curves, the dusky brown of his nipples and the trail of baby hairs that lead below his bellybutton to the waistband of his pants, the elastic worn enough to hang low on his hips.

You let out a throaty sound of dissatisfaction as he continues to pass around your dripping core, rocking your hips up with a pout. “Tae,” you whine, spreading your legs further apart. “Don’t tease.”

“But you look so beautiful when you’re needy,” Taehyung retorts with a smirk.

Just as you’re about to protest, though, you feel a single finger slip down between your folds, rubbing against your clit. You moan openly at the sudden pleasure.

“Oh that’s it, you’re so gorgeous,” the masseuse praises, his own chest hitching just from watching your reactions.

You groan, rocking your hips at that single finger as it simply runs straight up and down at a glacial pace.

“So needy, petal,” he gushes, voice velveteen, “was the orgasm I gave you downstairs not good enough, hm?”

You pout. “It was good, Tae.”

“Then why does my baby still want more?”

You pant, staring at him with pleading eyes. You don’t know what he wants to hear, all you can think of is his finger lazily running up and down your core and the smirk on his face.

That same smirk widens into a grin, not boxy like usual, but darker, slightly asymmetrical. “Maybe you’re just greedy, petal. Are you greedy, baby?”

You whine, legs tightening on either side of his waist. “I’m greedy, Tae, please just give it to me.”

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, leaning over you to capture your mouth again, hot and needy as you finally feel his finger circling your entrance before plunging in in one slick thrust, curling inside you so that you moan into his mouth, keening underneath the pressure of his body on yours.

“Tae, fuck!” you cry as he pulls out to slip a second finger in, immediately crooking and curling them inside you like he’s giving you a massage from inside. The thought has you shuddering, letting his mouth, his lips, his tongue swallow your moans of pleasure.

The sounds of his fingers as they fuck into you fill the room, and there’s no way of telling what is oil and what is your own arousal, wetter between your legs than you’ve ever been before.

Expertly, his thumb finds your clit at the same time that he moves up to three fingers inside of you, and you cry out at the added sensation, falling apart under his trained touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” Taehyung pants in between passionate kisses, licking the inside of your mouth like it’s oxygen. “I wanna feel you cum for me again, petal, can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” you make out, voice breaking as his fingers speed up. You can’t stop moving, hips rolling and back trying to arch even as his body cages you down to the floor, mouth slack as he takes what he wants from your body, surrendered willingly.

He’s so skilled with the hand between your legs that you don’t realise he still has one free until you feel fingers close around one of your raw nipples, rolling the bud mercilessly. You scream into his mouth as you cum, vocal cords vibrating violently, vision whiting and body convulsing, pitched to heights as his hands speeds up impossibly, stroking at your g-spot and rubbing your clit. “That’s it, you’re so perfect, give it to me, Y/n.”

You cry out again as his mouth leaves yours and instead ducks lower to nip at your neck, sucking a single point of colour at the base of your throat. Mouth now uncovered, your moans spill out unbidden, raising in pitch as the warm coil of pleasure turns sharp, your nerves overstimulated. “Fuh-fuck, too much,” you sob, weak hands pushing at his until he pulls out.

As you fight to catch your breath, still shivering with aftershocks, Taehyung sits up, hands running smoothly up and down your sides, one slick with oil and one slick with you, though your mind is too heavy with pleasure to work out which is which.

“You did so well, deep breaths, baby,” he guides in a voice like honey. It anchors you, brings your vision back and your mind back into your body. You blink, dazed, and stare up at him with an exhausted but satisfied smile. “There she is,” he chimes warmly, eyes appraising you like he’s proud of you. “Do you think you can cum one more time for me, petal? You’re doing so well.”

You let out a breathy. “Fuck. I don’t-”

“I can just clean you up and help you to bed if you don’t want to. I can take care of myself. You don’t have to.”

You bite your lip, gathering the energy it takes to lift your head off the towel, looking down to see him palming at his crotch just enough to relieve the pressure. Though you’re sure he wouldn’t hold it against you if you took him up on the offer, you can’t deny that you want to be the one to make him cum, not his own hand.

“No, I want to go again,” you decide, voice still quiet as your heart rate returns to normal. “But I’m still so sensitive.”

He hums in thought. “We have options. It didn’t say in your limit sheets that you were opposed to anal.” Your breath hitches and you find yourself nodding, wanting to feel him inside you so desperately. “Good? Okay then, petal, I’m going to need you to turn over so I can get you ready for me, yeah?”

He helps you up, guiding you onto your knees, facing away from him and gripping the edge of the bathtub for support.

“Is this okay?” he checks one last time, and you nod, arching your back in response. Taehyung chuckles, punctuated by the sound of a cap clicking open. “So you are my greedy girl.”

If there was a reply in your head, it dissolves the moment you feel a cold liquid running down your cheeks, cooling your heated core. You sigh, folding your arms on the edge of the bathtub and resting your head, eyes closing as the pressure of a single finger circles your ass, tight muscles fluttering at the contact.

“Relax for me,” the masseuse coos as he breaches you, sinking in easily with the aid of the oil even as you clench around the intrusion.

There’s something different about the pleasure like this. It feels deeper, primal, dirty as he slowly fucks into you, the tip of his finger crooking inside to ease your muscles.

You only realise that your hips are moving when he lays a forearm on your lower back, stilling you. You groan in frustration, but it just makes him laugh, pulling out of you to press in two fingers instead.

“Two orgasms and baby still wants more,” he muses, speeding up his fingers to make you whimper, moans catching in your throat with every thrust.

“Fuck, yes, I need you now, Tae,” you babble in a reedy voice, back arched under the pressure of his arm holding you steady. The room is filled with the smell of sex, but it’s lifted by the floral tones of the oils he’s used, and it makes your head spin, dizzy with arousal.

He pulls out his fingers, smacking your ass lightly. You wait with baited breath as he shucks his pants, letting them pool on the floor around his knees. You crane your head back to look at him, but he’s already pressing his head to your entrance, pausing to pour some more oil over his length before he’s snapping his hips and fucking into you, bottoming out on a single thrust.

The breath is punched out of your lungs, and your hands scramble to hold you steady against the edge of the bathtub as you cry out brokenly. “So full,” you moan, toes curling.

Taehyung lets out a throaty growl as he stays sheathed in you for a moment, grinding his hips against your ass as you adjust. “Oh, fuck,” he curses lowly. “So good, baby.”

After another moment, you feel him shift inside you, like he’s adjusting his stance. Reflexively, you grip onto the side of the bathtub, moments before he pulls out swiftly and thrusts back inside you, your whole body jerking with the force of it.

You let out a long moan, voice jumping every time his hips meet yours, shallow but quick strokes that have you drooling. With every slide of his cock inside you, so unbelievably slick with the excess massage oil, you feel yourself being fucked dumb, incoherent.

“Tae, Tae, yes, god, hngh, please Tae,” you chant thoughtlessly as he fills you over and over again.

His growls of response and the slap of skin-on-skin surrounds you, flooding your senses.

“I’m not gonna last long,” he warns, but you feel your own high building inside you, only needing a little more to send you over.

“Cum inside me,” you gasp, “please, fuck.”

He moans at that, not a low growl but a keening moan that’s followed by him speeding up inside you, a hand finding your clit and stroking roughly over it with four fingers, desperate.

Your third orgasm hits you like a train, rendering your whole body boneless as he chases his high, cursing when you begin to clench around him. Unlike the other two times, you don’t moan or cry out. Instead, the pleasure is so blinding that a single sound doesn’t come out at all, your eyes rolling in your head and your limbs going slack.

He spills inside you moments later, hands sliding up to massage your breasts as ropes of cum paint your insides.

When the two of you come down and he pulls out of you, you can’t feel your legs. He cleans you up with a towel soaked in warm water, but you’re so far gone that you barely feel it, content to let him manipulate your body, eventually picking you up, your vision swirling as the next thing you feel is a mattress below you and a blanket above. You mumble something, not even knowing what, and let the smooth motions of a hand rubbing your back soothe you into sleep.