drunkewok - Tumblr blog

drunkewok · 2 days

Text

🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter VIII

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: jisung's intoxicated honesty pays off in that he finally gets what he's been craving so madly. but will it be so easy?

word count: 9.4k

warnings: unprotected sex; consensual sex under the influence; p in v; oral sex (m&f receiving); mxm anal sex; one tiny lil predator/prey moment but it's very hot; another fight bc these pirates thrive off drama

author's note: I'M SORRY FOR LAST WEEK'S CLIFFHANGER BUT THE CHAPTER WOULD'VE GOTTEN TOO LONG OKAY!! to make up for it, this is almost entirely smut lol (see why i couldn't add it?). mwah mwah I love you all who have been reading this and commenting religiously. you mean the world to me!

this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI

series masterlist // skzms masterlist

< chapter VII - chapter IX (coming: friday, may 3, 3pm CET) >

The breath Minho expels puffs against your neck, makes a shiver run down your spine. Jisung looks like a wet dream, a siren with sweet, kissable lips, soft brown hair, an impossibly tiny waist and soft, strong muscled shoulders.

You want him so bad you ache with it.

“Meet me back at the ship,” Minho growls out, want buried somewhere deep in his voice, and Jisung’s eyes widen, like he didn’t quite believe it would work. But he nods, and then Minho’s warmth leaves your back. You watch him walk out, Jisung’s hand still on your neck. Someone bumps into his back, and it jostles him out of his reverie, seems to remind him where you are. He drops his hand. The loss of both their touch makes you shiver with a desperate kind of loss.

Jisung’s achingly deep, lidded eyes slip down to your lips, and you watch his pink tongue dart out to wet his like it holds salvation.

“Not here,” you whisper. Your voice is high, desperate. You reach a hand out, drag your fingers over the back of his. He shivers. You see your want mirrored in him. He blinks erratically, like he’s coming out of a trance.

“Captain,” he mumbles, his voice thick and low and so, so sexy. You think the title may have never sounded better. Jisung’s eyebrows furrow, he pulls his hand out of your reach. Your heart drops.

“Captain, I kissed him,” he whispers, quietly, sorrowfully. Scared. “Minho. A couple weeks ago. We had a fight and emotions ran high, and I kissed him and I should’ve told you, and I’m so sorry.”

You’re frozen where you are, staring back at him, your face schooled into your usual impassivity, though there’s a dull pain in your chest. You hadn’t expected a confession like this. Not here, not now. Jisung takes your silence for disapproval.

“I’m sorry, captain, I understand if you no longer want this. You can just say the word. You can go back to the ship alone. But I needed you to know before we do this because …” he takes a deep breath, “because I’ve wanted this for too long to let something like this poison it.”

The kraken in your chest rankles, writhes. But it seems undecided, confused. You force yourself to ask the heavy question on the tip of your tongue.

“Do you just want to do this to get to him?”

Jisung actually reels back at that, his eyes wide in shock, body curled in on itself like the question physically hurt. He shakes his head vehemently, reaches a gentle hand closer, until it can wrap around your wrist.

“No! No, God, no, I … I’ve wanted you since I met you,” he mumbles, his eyes trained down, but flicking up, like he wants to look at you, but he doesn’t quite have the courage to. His hand slips from your wrist, down, until he can lace his fingers with yours so gently it takes your breath away. His breath hitches. “That’s the trouble – I can’t stop myself from being so greedy when it comes to you. Can’t stop myself from wanting you. Both of you.”

It’s insane, it’s mad, he’s so beautiful, his touch sets you on fire, it’s terrifying.

Abruptly, you get up and he stares up at you. You smile at him as best as you can, stretching out your hand to him.

“Let’s go then.”

He jumps up, laces his warm fingers with yours, lets you lead him through the tavern, past hazy faces, past two bodies intertwined against the wall leading to the toilets that look suspiciously like Hyunjin and Chan, though you can’t dwell on it now with Jisung between your fingertips.

When you stumble out the front door, the fragrant night air rushes into your lungs. It’s balmy, but the breeze is chilly. It clears your foggy head a little, but does nothing to quell the aching want in your belly.

You turn and meet Jisung’s eyes and something cracks, and before you can take another step to drag Jisung to the ship, he pulls you into the dark, shaded alley right next to the tavern. He’s strong, but his movements are gentle, dark eyes hazy as he pushes you against the wall, his hands skating up to cup your face.

“I can’t wait until we’re on the ship to do this,” he mumbles, hotly, sweetly, and leans in.

He kisses you, and it feels like all the blood in your body is replaced by honey, hot and sticky and sirupy-sweet. His lips are impossibly soft against yours, moving against yours with a barely contained hunger. There’s a tremble in his hand when he drags his thumb over your cheek. He drowns the last dregs of your self-control in his sticky sweetness.

Your lips part and your tongue searches for his, a broken moan shivering out of his throat when they touch, silky and hot, licking against yours like he wants to devour you. He wraps his arms around you, pulls you closer, unashamedly presses you against where he’s hard and straining with desire in his pants, like he wants you to know what you do to him. It makes a shiver of arousal rack through you, and you can no longer resist, allow your hand to slither under his shirt, over the soft, hot skin of his waist. You rake your nails down the soft swell of his abs, and he moans into your tongue. You want to eat up every single sound he makes.

He pulls back when he needs air, his nose still resting against yours, hot breath fanning over your lips.

“I need you,” you whisper and Jisung sighs brokenly, “back to the ship. Now.”

And he complies, grabs your hand, and you run, hand in hand, giggling, through the balmy night, down the dusty streets that are almost empty at this time of night, until your boots slither over the wet wood the quay and you have to slow down. He kisses you again once you’re in the safety of the ship, kisses you, smilingly as he clumsily walks you backwards down the hallway to your quarters.

He’s still kissing you, eagerly licking into your mouth, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist when he pushes open the door. You hear Minho suck in a breath. You turn your head. He’s standing in the middle of the room, the candlelight playing off his sharp cheekbones, painting his dangerous, feline eyes an even darker shade of brown until you think he’s staring into your soul. Jisung is still pressed up against you, presses a wet kiss against your jaw as he watches Minho, too.

His name falls from your lips like a wrecked plea just as Jisung reaches out a hand and there’s no hesitation in the way he takes the few steps it takes for him to get to you. His hands shake when he reaches for you, cradles your face in his trembling hands, fear and tension lingering underneath so much raw, aching desire it makes you dizzy. You breathe out, blink at him, try to tell him wordlessly what you can’t put into words, and he seems to understand. He sighs, lets his forehead fall against yours for just a second before he tips his face forward and kisses you while Jisung watches.

Jisung’s arm around you tightens when Minho shivers out a moan, pries your jaw open with his thumb, slips his tongue into your mouth in the way he knows makes you putty in his hands. When you arch your back into Minho’s touch and brush against Jisung’s hard cock that is still straining against your leg, his breathing goes heavy, his desire like a living thing between you.

Minho’s pupils are blown, when he pulls back, his eyebrows drawn together in a dark determination that you know is him keeping his lust in check, but when he fixes Jisung with these eyes, Jisung gulps.

Minho stares at him, eyes flitting over Jisung’s flushed face, his chest that’s rising and falling sharply, and then, in the blink of an eye, Minho takes a step back, bends down, grabs Jisung’s waist and throws him over his shoulder. Jisung yelps, his hands shooting out, trying to stabilise himself on Minho’s back, and the surprise makes him look so adorable you can’t help but chuckle, letting Minho grab your hand and drag you along into your bedroom. He throws Jisung onto the mattress unceremoniously, Jisung’s body bouncing on the mattress as he struggles to keep up, eyes wide and glued to Minho, who bends down and pulls Jisung’s boots down. The tent in Jisung’s pants is painfully obvious with every shift of his body. Minho looks like he wants to devour him.

Minho gets on the bed, crawls up to Jisung with a predatory look in his eyes and Jisung, half-heartedly, distractedly, scoots back, like he’s trying to escape, but his eyes are glued to Minho, a little moan falling from his lips when Minho wraps his hand around his ankle and drags him back down, pulls him right underneath his body.

“I told you to stop running from me,” Minho growls, and then he swoops down, kisses Jisung so hard the latter’s hips jump off the bed with a debauched moan. Jisung’s hands helplessly hover in the air between them, unsure of where he’s allowed to touch, until Minho grabs one of them and brings it to his waist. Jisung’s fingers dig into the fabric readily, tugging at it desperately as Minho all but devours him.

It sends an odd thrill through you, the image of Jisung underneath Minho. It’s like a maddeningly hot out-of-body experience to see Minho like this, but it’s also impossible to rip your eyes away from Jisung; overwhelmed and turned on and uncertain, pretty and desperate under Minho’s control.

You don’t know if it’s the absinthe, but there’s no shame about it when you crawl onto the bed, get close enough until you can hear the wet slide of their tongues, can see the twitch of Jisung’s fingers, hear Minho suck in a breath when Jisung tugs at his shirt harder. You’re so turned on it’s making you feel dizzy, an aching heat, an embarrassing wetness pooling between your legs. Like you’re bewitched, you lift your hand, trail it up Jisung’s strong arms, over his shoulder, until it’s ghosting over his clothed chest.

Jisung gasps into Minho’s mouth and Minho pulls back, grips his chin between his fingers, fixes him with a look that Jisung is barely able to reciprocate. He’s beautiful when he’s so far gone.

“What do you want, hm?” Minho murmurs, and Jisung keens, his fingers digging into the material of Minho’s shirt and tugging at it.

“Anything,” Jisung mumbles, “everything … you …”

He tries to surge back up to kiss Minho again, but Minho pushes him down, sends you a heated look, before he turns Jisung’s head to you, lets you mould your hand around the sharp line of Jisung’s jaw and drag him into another filthy kiss, one he moans into immediately, his own hand surging up to bury itself into your hair, pulling you closer to lick deeper and deeper. You think you could kiss him like this forever.

His nails rake over your scalp when Minho’s hands slide down his body, under Jisung’s shirt, raking up his abs, find his nipples. He chokes out a moan, spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth, and Minho chuckles darkly, pulls Jisung’s mouth from yours by the back of his hair and pulls his shirt over his head.

And despite how gone Jisung already seems, his eyes find yours immediately, gaze dipping down to your lips before he kisses you again, uses his newfound freedom to turn to you better, hands greedily sliding under your shirt, smoothing over the plush of your waist, kneading and dragging his blunt nails over every inch of skin, until his hand finds your tits, and he squeezes, his mouth opening in tandem, his kiss turning filthier and filthier as he rucks your shirt up. Spit is smeared all over your and his pretty peach lips when he pulls the fabric over your head, leaving you bare for his hands to explore.

When he kisses down your jaw, your eyes fall on Minho, towering over the two of you. His hungry eyes are trained on you, glued to your lips, raking down your naked bodies, following Jisung’s hand as he touches you, his own hand palming himself over his pants before he squeezes himself and instead busies himself with untying Jisung’s pants. He groans when Jisung’s cock springs free and smacks against his abdomen, red and hard and leaking from the tip. You can’t tear your eyes from it. It’s perfect.

“No underwear, filthy boy,” Minho growls lowly, and Jisung chuckles cheekily into the skin of your neck before he lets his head loll against the sheets.

“I like how it fee–“

He cuts himself off with a lewd moan when Minho scrapes his nails up the inside of his thighs and wraps his hand around his cock, pumps him a few times, squeezing another few drops of precum from Jisung’s cock. Your mouth damn near waters.

Minho must notice because before you know it, he has shifted his attention to you, leaning up and over you to press an open-mouthed kiss to your lips before peppering more down the column of your throat. He hums appreciatively, taking his time running his tongue over every inch of your skin until he reaches your breasts, sucking a deep red mark in the valley between them before latching his mouth onto your nipple and sucking so hard your back arches off the bed. Jisung next to you moans softly, one hand loosely wrapped around himself as he watches with hungry eyes.

“Always so fucking perfect,” Minho whispers, his tongue laving over your sensitive bud while his fingers are untying the strings on your pants with care, “so fucking perfect for me.”

He looks up at you through hooded eyes, and something in his eyes makes you ache. Your hand finds his hair, scraping your nails over his sensitive scalp in the way you know drives him mad, and his eyelids flutter beautifully. His eyes dart over to Jisung, and he smirks around you, rucks your pants down enough so he can bury his fingertips in your soaked folds, spreading the wetness around just shy of where you need him the most.

“So perfect for us, hm, Jisung?”

Jisung tightens his fist on his cock with a mewl and nods. He looks at you. A strand of his wavy brown hair is plastered to his forehead. You reach up to brush it away. He follows the action like he’s mesmerised.

“Our captain,” he mumbles, and Minho’s finger finally presses down on your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Jisung watches with rapt attention as you whimper, brows furrowing, eyes struggling to stay open, stay staring into Jisung’s own.

“Fuck,” Jisung whispers, and you smile. Jisung blinks.

“I need to feel you, Jisung, Jisungie,” you mumble, another moan clawing its way out of your throat when Minho rubs you just so, “I want you to fuck me. Please.”

Jisung’s jaw falls open needily, his hand tightening on himself. More precum pearls out of his pretty cock, drips down his shaft.

“Please, let me,” he whimpers, “God, I want it so bad– fuck, my captain … you sound so wet …”

And you do, Minho’s fingers having done a thorough job of spreading your slick all over your folds, but so does Jisung, the wet sound of his hand working over his cock mixing with the way your cunt squelches when Minho slides his fingers into you so lewd it makes your head spin. When Minho leans in and attaches his lips to your clit, you moan out pathetically loudly.

“Is that what you want, Jisung?” Minho mumbles, the vibrations of his lips against your clit making you mewl. “You want to fuck your captain?” You bury your fingers in his hair, tug so hard you know it must hurt. But you also know he loves it. He groans prettily, his breath coming out in short bursts, as he carefully, maddeningly slowly fucks one finger into you, then two, seemingly more to keep busy than to get either of you any closer to anything. It drives you crazy.

Jisung blushes a deep pink, the colour spreading down the sculpted swell of his chest.

“Want you to fuck me, too, Minho,” he mumbles, “couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Minho chuckles darkly. Jisung bats his eyelashes, twists his hand meanly on his cock and moans.

“You’re so fucking big, want to feel you inside of me so badly,” he slurs.

Minho reaches out, wraps his fingers around Jisung’s wrist and tugs his hand away from his cock, making Jisung mewl out at the loss, pouting at Minho. But the pout melts from his lips, dissolves into a hiccup and a moan, when Minho pulls his mouth away from you, wraps his hand around Jisung’s cock and suckles the head between his lips.

Minho’s hand is still between your legs, his fingers working you open as if his mouth isn’t busy swallowing Jisung down so hard his eyes roll into the back of his head with a choked moan. You watch Minho, watch how his eyes glint with something that can only be described as greed, his eyes on Jisung when he swallows around him, on you when he crooks his fingers, hips barely perceptibly rutting into the bed beneath him. Your breath catches in your throat. He’s getting off on this.

You make up your mind then, giving Minho a smirk as you gently pull his fingers from you. He glares at you and puts up a fight, but he goes pliant under your hands, moans prettily as soon as you get up, kick your pants and shoes off your body and smooth your palms over Minho’s back.

You hum softly, in response, fingers dipping underneath the fabric to trail over the sensitive skin of his back, over to the front, the muscles in his stomach jumping with every shudder of his body. He sinks his head further down, and Jisung chokes out a groan.

“I won’t– I won’t last,” Jisung whines, fingers threading into Minho’s hair in a desperate effort to ground himself. “B-been so long since … hnnng anyone has touched me … like this.”

“How?” you ask breathlessly, gaze glued to his writhing body, his rippling stomach. He chokes out another moan, one that sounds almost like a sob.

“Don’t make me say it …”

He sounds so wrecked, it makes you dizzy with want. Your hungry hands slide down over Minho’s clothed cock where it’s hot and leaking and so fucking tempting. You waste no time, palming him gently, but hard enough that his hips buck into your hand wantonly, like he usually only does when he’s extra needy. You slip past his waistband and take him into your palm. The fact that having both of you underneath him, having Jisung’s cock in his mouth is getting him that riled up, makes you feel insane.

Jisung’s hips jump off the bed, and he hiccups out another moan.

“Fuck, fuck,” he breathes out before the confession tumbles out of his mouth helplessly. “Like you care how I feel, like you want to make me feel good, like you care about me, oh god, Minho, I’m .. I’m gonna … like you l-love me …”

The last words peter out into a desperate sob, and you don’t think he’s even aware he said them when his body locks up and his hips stutter up, and he releases into Minho’s hot, ready mouth. Minho’s cock pulses into your hands, and he fucks into the tight fist you’re offering for him erratically as he swallows Jisung’s orgasm, and then he halts, groans, low and deep in his chest, and cums, spilling ropes of hot and sticky all over your fist and into his pants.

Jisung’s words echo in your head while you stroke Minho through his orgasm, when you pull your hand from him, wipe it on his pants, your guts swirling with warmth and apprehension. It’s not a word you use. It’s not a word you’ve dared to speak since you said, “I love you, too, Dad” for the last time. Never even said it to your mother again. And you know she knew. Until you couldn't anymore. It’s not a word you let yourself use, not even in your head, not even when you think of Minho, though you know, deeply, irrevocably, despite everything, despite how hard you try, that what you feel for him goes so far beyond physical.

And despite everything that happened to him, despite everything the world has done to him, the word had just … tumbled out of Jisung’s mouth.

You wonder what Minho feels – if his own sudden release had something to do with that one little word. You wonder if Minho could ever love you. Or … if he could love Jisung. Find in him something that you couldn’t provide him. The kraken, so blissfully, remarkably quiet so far, stirs uncomfortably in your chest. Your vision is tightening, and you’re wondering how you can somehow escape the oppressing heat of the room when Minho gets up. He turns to you cups your face in his hands, his eyes hazy and soft, a devastatingly handsome smirk on his face, before he rubs his nose against yours and kisses you, softly, sweetly. It’s easy to get lost in, to let yourself get lost in the way his thumbs brush your cheekbones, his tongue maps out every inch of your mouth, the taste of Jisung still on his lips.

Gently, he licks into your mouth, turns you around, guides you onto the bed, parting from you only long enough to pull off his shirt, shove down his soiled pants, and you can barely get a glimpse of his body, his beautiful, strong, familiar body, before he kisses you again, his hands reverently sliding over your skin. And then there’s a second pair of hands joining him, smoothing up your thigh, and a second pair of lips leaving open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder, and it’s hard to feel anything but warmth and heat and them.

“Let me taste you,” Jisung whispers into your skin, trailing his hot wet lips up your shoulder, up your neck and his breath is searingly hot on the shell of your ear. “You’re one orgasm down, we can’t have that. Let me taste you, please? I want it so bad.”

Minho hums in agreement.

“Let’s see how many times you can make her cum while I open you up.”

Twice, it turns out, is how often Jisung can make you cum with his tongue alone.

He’s a sinful sight, face flushed and messy with your slick, eyes half closed and glazed over as he rubs his tongue all over you with an enthusiasm you have never felt before. He’s messy, lapping up his own spit and your arousal from your pussy with fucked out little hums and moans, fucking his tongue inside of you so deeply, so deftly, you see stars. His technique is not so much technique as a desperation to make you feel good and to feel you everywhere, all at once, in turn, licking inside of you and massaging your clit and nipping at your inner thighs all at the same time, the vibrations of his moans from where Minho is steadily fucking his fingers into his hole driving you closer and closer to the edge.

He moans when you cum and grind against his face, mumbling expletives and fucked out pleas into you, dribbles precum into the sheets when you wrap your legs around his head and he can barely breathe as he steadily works you through your overstimulation and pulls the next one out of you with the help of his fingers buried deep inside you, rubbing the calloused pads of his fingers against your sweet spot. By the time you come down, you’re trembling, can barely think straight with pleasure and have to push him away before he goes for another.

Minho chuckles darkly, smoothes his palms over Jisung’s ass sweetly before giving it a spank. Jisung whimpers, keens into his touch. Minho’s eyes bore into yours.

“Good boy,” he praises Jisung as he stares at you and Jisung preens, smiles dazedly as ruts his ass back into Minho’s soft touches. “Are you ready to get your reward?”

Jisung moans, shakes his head.

“I … I wanna feel you … both,” he whines and Minho blinks twice, before he groans deeply, his hand shooting down to grab his own cock. Jisung, unaware of the effect he has, screws his eyes shut, blushes deeply. “’s so greedy, I know, but I’ve wanted you for so long, I need you both.”

His neediness, his openness, the way he stares at you with a deep blush and such big, needy, eyes when he finally blinks them open – it’s so new to you, so unlike the way you and Minho have been fucking, but it’s not bad. God, it’s not bad. It’s maddeningly, all-consumingly beautiful. Endearing. So hot it makes your stomach turn. Jisung, in all his naked, honeyed beauty, made you feel so warm, so trusted, so … entirely and unequivocally wanted.

You sit up, cup Jisung’s face, tuck a strand of errant hair behind his ear. You watch him blink at you with wide eyes, all innocence, and shock, before you pull him in for a kiss so tender it hurts you. He makes a high sound in the back of his throat, his lips going pliant against yours, letting you take what you need from him, as if you’re not trying to give him everything you could.

You can’t do it for long, the ache of your heart, the threat of the kraken too strong to withstand it when he kisses you back just as tenderly. A helpless little sigh, a press of his nose into your cheek, a soft hand on your thigh, and you pull back, peck his cheek sweetly. Minho is staring at you, his face utterly unreadable. You brush it off, turn around, get on all fours in front of Jisung.

Minho moans lowly, a noise so guttural you know he’s doing his best to try to keep it together, but he’s failing spectacularly.

Jisung scoots closer, breathes out a breathless string of praises as he places his hands on your waist, presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. Minho murmurs something you can barely make out, and then Jisung’s velvety, hard cock brushes against your thigh. Jisung’s arms come to cage you in, warm, soft chest folding over your back, his breath on your neck.

There’s no way for you to know what’s happening behind you, only Jisung’s breath and the small noises he makes to go by, and somehow that makes it all even hotter.

When Jisung tenses against your back, lets his head fall against your spine, all you can do is imagine what he must look like while Minho is sinking himself into him. His cock brushes against your skin again, and you’re dizzy with want.

“God, so fucking tight, Jisung,” Minho mumbles softly, brokenly, so familiarly, and Jisung whimpers. “So fucking good.”

An involuntary, frustrated whine fights its way out of your throat and Minho chuckles, but there’s barely any of his usual cockiness in it. He leans further into you, and it takes you a second to realise it’s his hand that guides Jisung’s cock until his head is pushing against your entrance, head almost breaching you, tantalisingly close to what you really want.

Jisung’s arms are shaking on either side of you, and he’s panting against your neck.

And then Minho slowly pushes all the way into Jisung and pushes him forwards, until Jisung’s cock finally slides into you, sinks into you inch by inch, and the noises it rips out of you and Jisung in tandem are filthy. Minho curses out weakly, digs his fingers into your skin where he’s holding onto you. You can feel his resolve crumbling with every second.

Jisung feels heavenly inside of you, filling you up perfectly, hot and thick to the brim, just a little bit of a stretch. But it’s nothing compared to when Minho starts fucking into him, rutting Jisung’s cock deep into you with every thrust. When Jisung bottoms out entirely, kisses your womb, your arms wobble, and you nearly fold into the sheets, but Jisung’s own shaky arm winds around your waist, holds you up and against him.

“Hm … don’t” he slurs, his breath punched out of him when Minho fucks into him hard, “wann’ feel you.”

So you try to stay upright, for him, but also for the slick, grounding slide of his chest against your back, the sweet noises he pants into your neck. His moans are melodic, divine, every hitch of his breath next to your ear makes you gush around him more.

Minho fucks Jisung harder, makes him mewl, his arm tightens around your waist, his fingers digging into your stomach, and it pulls you up enough for the head of Jisung’s cock to hit your womb over and over and over again, pleasure and pain mingling and shooting through your body until you can feel the tingling all the way in your toes.

Your body is so, so sensitive after your two previous orgasms, and it feels so, so good, and it’s all so much it makes your grip on reality slip, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You whimper out pathetically when the first tear falls, your cunt clenching around Jisung so hard he bucks into you with a hiccupped moan, cursing and moaning wildly. You hear Minho curse out behind you, and then his hands find your waist, holding you steady, holding you in place, and it only drives Jisung deeper and that’s it.

Your back arches, your head falls backwards onto Jisung’s shoulder, you sob, and you fall over the edge, gushing wetness around Jisung’s cock that’s still steadily being driven so deeply into you, you have trouble breathing. Tears are streaming down your cheeks and Jisung whimpers, moans, kisses your shoulders, does his best to hold on, to hold you, to fuck you through it.

As soon as he feels you go slack, he gently lets down so you can collapse onto the bed, pulls himself from your cunt and lets Minho pull him up against his chest. Jisung wraps his free hand around his own cock, and he only pumps twice before he cums with wail, ropes of his spend shooting over your ass and back, clenching around Minho so hard that he follows only a second later, grinding himself in deep with a string of curses and praises as he unloads into Jisung.

You’re boneless, barely aware of the sounds around you, the sticky mess on your back. Jisung collapses next to you with a huff, his hand reaching for yours as he catches his breath, fingers lacing into yours again, just like they did in the tavern, one of his rings cold against your overheating skin. You shiver. You distantly feel Minho wipe at your back, hear him say your name, before you’re tucked into the sheets, pulled into Jisung’s chest, before Minho’s warm, familiar, naked body slides under the sheets, wraps around your back. You fall asleep as soon as he does, with your face smushed into Jisung’s chest, where he’s already snoring next to you.

When Jisung returns to his and Felix’ cabin in the late afternoon of the following day, he half expects Felix to be there, already waiting to interrogate him on where he was last night, why he left with the captain, what on earth he was thinking – but their cabin is empty.

Everything is as he left it, Felix’s bed neat and pretty, his own unmade, sheets still crumpled how he left them before meeting the captain to go and get the maps decoded, a mere 24 hours earlier. 24 hours and so much has changed that he’s dizzy with it. The decoding of his uncle’s maps, the discovery of his murderous plot, one that would cost many people their life, the whole region its stability, the people any hope of changing governance. Finally, an opportunity for revenge, for the captain, but also for him, and for everyone else.

And then … the night.

He still doesn’t know what gave him the confidence to approach her, to touch her, to touch Minho, to open himself, lay himself bare at their feet, telling them how much he wanted them. He doesn’t know if it was the absinthe, or the way the captain’s hazy eyes were dragging over his face, how Minho kept sneaking him glances, gaze snagging on his body. And he hadn’t expected anything to come of it, if anything, he’d banked on them rejecting him,= and hopefully forgetting it ever happened.

But no, Minho had looked at it him with so much heat in his dark, predatory eyes that he nearly sank to his knees right there. And the captain – God, her fluttering eyelids, soft, hazy gazes, silky skin and plump, sweet lips.

He will never forget the way his heart was beating out of his chest when he kissed her for the first time, world hazy with that green drink and the smell of her, rosemary and seawater and sweet, sweet love. His captain, the strongest person he had ever met, all intelligent eyes and mind-numbingly soft yet filthily demanding lips and sinfully soft body that she used with such confidence, indulged him in with so much trust. And Minho, sex on legs, so scary it made him hard, with his surprisingly soft and caring and talented hands and his beautiful, huge fucking cock that made him cum so hard he saw stars.

Jisung isn’t one to sleep around. He doesn’t need to pretend that this isn’t what it is for him. He likes them; is drawn to them like he hasn’t been drawn to anyone before. And he’s long past wondering how he can feel that kind of attraction to both of them. How could he, when their bodies melted together like they did last night.

Through the porthole, he sees the sun where it’s starting to dip below the horizon, past the islands of the cove of Nassau, and realises that Felix probably needs help with dinner, painfully notices that he would’ve needed help with breakfast and lunch, too. He gets to his feet before he can start worrying about what he knows, makes his way to the kitchen, ambling along the hallways, and he can’t help but realise how good he feels. His body feels limber, warm, well taken care of, well fucked. He can’t tell if he wants to keep the feeling to himself or wants to scream it from the rooftops.

When he woke up that morning, it was to the captains body pressed against his back, her tits rubbing against his back, her hand trailing over his stomach, down past his happy trail until she took his half-hard cock into her hand and starting palming him, before she threw the sheets to the side and crawled between his legs. Minho had scooted over, pulled Jisung into a kiss that was beyond anything his wildest wet dreams could’ve conjured up, nipping at his bottom lip and swallowing his moans when the captain sank him into her hot, wet mouth. He had blown his load in record time, cumming much harder than he thought he would be able to after the night before, but the captain’s nails digging into his thighs, Minho’s fingers meanly twisting his sensitive nipples and the captain’s tongue working some kind of witchcraft on his cock made him fold easily.

But they didn’t seem to mind, the captain sliding up to kiss him with traces of his spend still on her tongue, whispering about how irresistible, how perfect he was, until he was dizzy. And then Minho dragged the captain back into the pillows, kissed her quick and dirty, much to Jisung’s cock’s delight, before he slid into her from behind, his cock tearing the most sinful, sigh from his captain’s lips. Minho fucked her lazily, slowly, indulgently, and Jisung had been unable to look away, his own cock already painfully hard again just from the beauty of them, intertwined, right in front of him. Jisung was helpless, followed blindly when captain breathed out his name like a prayer, dragging him closer. He pressed himself to her front, her soft skin sliding against his with every single one of Minho’s thrusts, and he had indulged, swallowing her moans with his mouth, his hand snaked between them to rub his cock against her clit, fingertips sliding down to rub where Minho was fucking into her until she came, creamy and wet, and all over both of them, so filthy and perfect that it pulled Jisung over the edge again, spilling all over her thighs and Minho’s cock when he pulled out and unloaded all over them.

Minho had gotten up without another word, left Jisung in bed with the captain, who calmly told him he was drawing them a bath when she noticed him fidget. And for an anxious second, Jisung had to fight with the knowledge that this was normal for them, that they did this often, they belonged together and he – was an intruder. He felt their tenderness, and he felt like they were all on the same page, but what if that was not what they thought after all. What if he was a temporary distraction, a one-night fling, something to spice things up, before they dropped him as soon as he left the room. But then the captain pulled him in with those same achingly solid, confident, and beautiful hands and kissed him lazily, willing him out of his head and right into her pliant warmth. And she kept kissing him, protesting so heartbreakingly in the back of her throat when he so much as slightly pulled back, and he could do nothing but succumb, lips trailing over skin, sucking bruises and laving tongues, until his lips were swollen and raw and his heart beating in his throat with the sheer magnitude of what he was feeling.

It was clear that whatever the captain and Minho had, was more than sex, whether they labelled it as such or not. They never said it, of course, but it was clear as day in the way they looked at each other, in the way Minho always checked in with her, in the way she touched him, pulled him close, almost like she needed his contact to survive.

He didn’t fully understand why they hesitated, when their love was so beautifully obvious to everyone around them, but he would give them time. He just hoped they would figure it out before they could shatter his own heart into a million pieces. But somewhere along the lines, Jisung seemed to have lost his own sense of self-preservation because he realised he would let them, just for the chance to have them like this, however long he could.

Jisung sends a tentative wave to some of his crew-mates in the living area as he passes, one they return lazily, passing a bottle of rum back and forth, presumably to nurse their way through the worst of their hangover.

The mess and the kitchen are suspiciously quiet as he makes his way in. Jisung assumed he would find Felix in the middle of prep, maybe peeling potatoes or cutting up some other vegetables, but when he opens the door, he is faced with four of his friends, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed in front of them.

Felix front and centre, his eyes furrowed into an expression of disapproval, Chan behind him, scowling in disappointment. Hyunjin was to the side, his head in his hands, as he observed Jisung without a smile. Seungmin sits on a stool, his iron glare boring into Jisung’s soul.

“Wha-,” Jisung asks, but his voice gives out. His heart thumps uncomfortably against his ribcage. He clears his throat, tries again.

“What is this?”

Felix’ frown doesn’t budge. It freaks Jisung out more than anything else. It feels wrong.

“This is an intervention,” he states, simply, and Jisung blinks stupidly. “For you. Because you slept with the captain.”

Jisung’s mouth falls open, ungracefully. The words, spoken like that, burn. He wants to correct him, wants to yell at him, tell him that it was so much more, so much more than just “sleeping together” and so much more than what Felix could ever know. But Felix continues before Jisung can even finish the thought.

“And don’t even try to lie about it, I saw you two leave last night.”

The fact that denial didn’t even enter his mind makes anxiety slam into Jisung like a freight train. Chan straightens up behind Felix, shifts his weight, before he finally explodes.

“I talked to you about this just the other day, Jisung. I came to you, in full trust, and I asked you why you kissed him.”

Jisung blanches. They’re all looking at him. He feels their disapproval like a punch in the gut.

“Yes, I told them, but only after you left with her last night. But the point is – I asked you not to pursue Minho, I told you that they have a thing going on, something that goes much deeper than we all probably know. And you said nothing would happen, and now what? You sleep with her?!”

Felix places a calming hand on Chan’s arm and he deflates. The pots are already boiling on the stove, Jisung notes. Seems like they planned this thoroughly. He feels like he might be sick.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Seungmin pipes up, getting to his feet slowly, calmly. His voice is as steady as ever. “Is this some kind of fucked up game you’re playing? Are you maybe still in your uncle’s pocket after all? Are you trying to take us down by destroying the foundation of our entire crew?”

Jisung makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a cough and an undignified squeal. It’s pathetic, and he hates himself for it so much he wants to throw up.

“Seungmin!” Hyunjin exclaims, and glares at the younger man. Seungmin just shrugs.

“Why beat around the bush?”

Hyunjin shakes his head and gets up, walks over to Jisung. Jisung notices how his eyes drag over his neck, and he suddenly feels very self-conscious, feels the drag of the captain’s lips against his skin still, feels his heartbeat in a bruise Minho sucked right below his jaw.

“Jisung, we don’t think you’re lying to us, okay?” Hyunjin reassures him, and he looks like he could be telling the truth, at least.

“But,” he continues, carefully, eyeing Jisung like he might explode any second. And he might. “you have to understand – we don’t know why else you would be … doing this. Going after the captain’s partner, then the captain herself. And now sleeping with her?! Do you have any idea what will happen when Minho finds out?!”

Hyunjin goes a little pale at the thought. He looks genuinely worried when he whispers the next words. “He’ll kill you.”

The implication, how wrong all of this is, finally pushes Jisung out of his stupor. He opens his mouth, tries to find the words, loses his courage. He wills his heartbeat back into his chest. Fixes his gaze on the floor.

“You … you don’t understand,” he mumbles lamely, and he hears Chan scoff. But Hyunjin steps closer, places a supportive hand on his shoulder.

“Try us. Maybe we can.”

“Hyunjin,” Felix says sharply, “we talked about this.”

But Hyunjin just fixes him with a glare before turning back to Jisung. Jisung feels suffocated under their eyes, the fading bites on his skin, the phantom of the pleasure still in his bones, it’s too much.

“I didn’t sleep with the captain,” he exclaims, and flinches, ”well, I did, but …”

“What the fuck?!” Chan barks, and Jisung flinches. He steels himself, and faces his angry face, all their angry, disbelieving faces. He lifts his hands defensively, hides behind them because he’s … scared, he realises.

“Let me finish. I did sleep with her, but I promise, it won’t be a problem, okay? Because … because,” it’s like the whole room is holding its breath waiting for him to drop the bomb. Then he realises it’s just him, and finally exhales. Shakily.

“… because Minho was there, too.”

Silence. Deafening silence.

Hyunjin takes a surprised step back, ogles him with wide eyes. Chan breathes out a quiet what?!, and even Seungmin looks shocked. “What do you mean Minho was there?” Felix asks, incredulous. Jisung blushes even harder. His face feels like it’s about to go up in flames. His chest like it will cave in. He thinks he might not make it through this conversation.

“Well, he was there. But not just … I mean, he was also … uhh … involved, so to speak …”

Everyone is still staring at him, so he just sighs loudly, throwing his arms up in defeat. Anxiety makes him stupid sometimes.

“We all fucked, okay? I fucked the captain, Minho fucked me, he fucked her, he sucked me off, I ate her out, …”

All four of them yell almost in unison, Chan trying to cover his ears, Seungmin squeezing his eyes shut.

“Well, fuck you! You asked!” he yells indignantly, irritation bubbling in his guts. This was really messing up his post-best-night-of-his-entire-life glow.

“You’re not fucking with us?” Felix asks, and Jisung shakes his head. Out in the living area they hear Minho’s loud voice yell something, and Hyunjin looks at Jisung, then at the door, and before he Jisung can stop him, he darts out. He returns moments later, dragging a confused, slightly irritated Minho behind him. When his eyes fall on Jisung, they do something that Jisung had never seen before. A softening, a glimmer of familiarity. It’s breathtaking. Jisung almost makes the mistake of smiling at him like a lovesick fool. But he catches himself.

“Minho, we need you to be honest with us. What did you do last night?” Felix asks, sombrely, but much softer than he was to Jisung. Jisung bristles, turns to Minho.

“They ambushed me to confront me about last night, and they refuse to believe what you were there,” he explains, and Minho’s face goes from confused, to angry, to stony. Then he slowly turns to Felix, nails him with a glare so utterly dark, Jisung doesn’t know how Felix can stand it. But he does.

“What did I tell you about speculating about the captain and my private life? And what did I say I would do to you if you told other people about your theory?”

If Felix is intimidated, he’s hiding it well. He tosses his head.

“We’ve all long known that something is going on between you and the captain, and your secret is safe with us. Nobody beyond this room knows, and none of them will learn of this conversation. We just want to make sure nobody is fucking with our captain.”

Minho stares at him for a little longer.

“Nobody beyond this room?”

Felix shakes his head.

“Nobody beyond this room knows what we’re talking to Jisung about, and nobody will know.”

Minho nods, freezes for a second, blinks. Then an almost eery, slightly evil smile stretches across his lips. Felix, to Jisung’s satisfaction, finally looks a little bit uncertain.

Minho half turns to Jisung, fixes him with a look that makes a shiver run down Jisung’s spine.

“In that case,” he muses, “Jisungie’s not lying. He was with me and the captain last night.”

Jisungie. Jisung’s heart skips a beat.

And before he knows what’s happening, Minho takes two steps towards him, easily tips his head up with his thumb and kisses Jisung, right there, right in front of them. Jisung’s eyes widen before they slip shut, and he melts into it. Minho licks into his mouth, practised, almost sweetly, and altogether way too filthily for the situation they find themselves in. Jisung knows it’s to punish them. He kisses him back dirtier. Minho smiles against his lips. He’s already aching with need all over again.

But Minho pulls back much too quickly, leaving Jisung dazed and sobering and blushing and entirely unable to meet anyone else’s eyes.

“That clear things up?” Minho asks, looking straight at them, sickeningly sweetly, his hand still cupping Jisung’s face. He doesn’t even wait for their response before he turns on his heels and stomps out of the kitchen. Jisung wishes he could just follow him, but he has to face the music.

“Jisung,” Hyunjin says softly, hesitantly comes closer again. He places his hands on his shoulders, but Jisung’s patience is at its limit. He brushes Hyunjin off, ignores the latter’s pained grimace.

“Why do you always assume I’m lying?” he asks, indignation thick in his voice. The faces looking back at him are surprised, Hyunjin just looks guilty.

“No matter what I do, you always think I’m trying to sell you out. Last time with Minho, now with this. Why are you so dead set on the fact that I’m going to betray you, when I have done nothing to make you think that?! I keep telling you that I’m on your side, I kill my uncle’s men right in front of you, I help the captain and Minho formulate a plan to take him down and then … I come back here and the first thought you have when I just … do what I want to do, is that I’m, somehow, trying to sell you out?! What the fuck?!”

He feels a familiar tightness in his chest and the way Chan avoids his eyes, the way Hyunjin grimaces at him, it only makes him angrier.

“Just say you don’t fucking trust me and be done with it. But that means what I do and who I fuck is none of your goddamn business.” And with those words, he turns around and stomps out of the room. Nobody even calls after him.

He pretends to be asleep later that night, when Felix turns in for the night. He’s later than usual, Jisung can tell from the position of the moon he’s been staring at for the last few hours as he has willed the warmth, the pleasure back into his body, where it had been displaced by cold shame. He hasn’t been very successful. He could’ve gone back to Minho and the captain, but he couldn’t bring himself to. If they rejected him now he might do something stupid. He still might, because the thought of them, together, as they always have been, happy and sweet and without him, as they always fucking have been, sends him spiralling into territory he would rather not go.

But now Felix is here, changing out of his clothes quietly. Jisung knows he’s late because Jisung wasn’t there to help with clean-up. He knows it’s petty, but he thinks it’s only fair.

When Felix has changed out of his clothes, he doesn’t climb up to his cot immediately, like he usually does. He wavers, before he gingerly sits on Jisung’s bed.

Jisung can’t swallow down the scoff he makes. Felix doesn’t take the bait. Jisung wishes he did. Anger would be easier.

“I think it’s because nobody around here has ever been as honest as you,” Felix finally murmurs. He sounds apologetic. He hesitates for a moment, as if to see if Jisung will interrupt him. But Jisung stays stubbornly silent.

“The likes of us usually don’t go around wearing our hearts on our sleeve like you do. Even when we’re on someone’s side, we play our cards close to our chest. Because you never know, you know? It takes a lot for us to trust someone. Because we all got fucked over one too many times by people we thought we could trust”

Jisung stays still, lets Felix’ words wash over him.

“But you …” Felix continues, and lets out a weak little laugh, “you walked in that first day, and you seemed to have already decided that you would trust us. You gave us your story and told us you’d be ready to turn against not just the governor, but your own family and … well, nobody else has ever just been like that. It almost felt … too good to be true.”

Jisung clamps his mouth shut. He doesn’t want to give Felix the satisfaction of arguing with him again. Not after everything else has been used against him.

“But that’s not your fault, is it,” Felix murmurs, and Jisung can’t help it any more. He turns around, sits up, stares at Felix. Puffy eyes and bruised neck and shame and all. Felix looks away, fixes his eyes on the floor. “I think it’s admirable. It’s … it’s why I like you so much. I’m pretty sure it’s why the captain likes you, and Minho, too. Scratch that, it’s why everyone has been so immediately taken with you. You are so easy to love, so easy to trust, we’re just all … hurt and jaded and in pain …”

“So am I, though …” Jisung mumbles and Felix huffs out a small, humourless laugh. He places his warm hand on Jisung’s leg. Jisung hates how much the touch soothes him. Felix gives him a sad little smile.

“Well, then you’re doing a hell of a job loving regardless.”

Jisung doesn’t entirely know what that means, but he doesn’t ask. After a beat of silence, Felix speaks again.

“What I’m trying to say is that we’re sorry, I’m sorry. The thing is, we do trust you, deep down, more than we would anyone else considering how long we’ve known you, and we love that you’re part of the crew because you added so much. Maybe that’s why the idea of you turning on us now is extra painful. It would shatter a lot of our trust, again, and, like I said, we’re already bad at that. Trusting people.”

He squeezes Jisung’s thigh one more time, before he gets up. Jisung misses it. Felix hesitates in front of his bed, fiddles with the hem of his pyjama shirt, avoiding Jisung’s eyes.

“Can I ask, though … If you didn’t sleep with the captain and Minho to break them apart, why did you sleep with them?”

Jisung stares at him, feels his face heat up. His chest aches where his heart is threatening to break.

“Because I wanted to,” he says quietly, eyes falling to the patchwork of his sheet, plucking at a stray piece of string.

“Do you … I mean, is it just fun or … do you like them?” Felix asks, and Jisung huffs out a humourless laugh.

“I really like them. Both of them. Like, way more than I should.”

Felix hums, but Jisung doesn’t dare look up. The silence he’s met with hurts. Feels portentous.

“Be careful, Jisung, with your heart,” Felix finally says. It’s small. Quiet. “When I say we’re bad at trust, I mean we can also be pretty bad at that kind of thing. Love. We don’t usually get to have that any more. We usually think we … don’t deserve it.”

Jisung feels his words like tiny little knives stabbing him in his chest. Outwardly he just nods and Felix looks at him, sighs, and turns to climb up to his cot.

“Okay, enough lecturing. I’m sorry, Jisung, I really am. And I trust you. I’m glad you found us.”

He already has one foot on the ladder when Jisung manages to breathe out his name.

“Felix?”

“Hm?”

“Can I have a hug?”

Felix chuckles, light and airy, and it makes some of the weight from Jisung’s heart dissolve into the night.

“Of course, silly,” he says and lunges onto Jisung’s bed, tackling him to the mattress. Jisung squeals, yells, pretends to shove Felix off, but the warm weight of him, his hair, soft and still smelling like plum pudding, it’s all he needs.

They wrestle and yell until Changbin slams his fist into the wall and yells at them to shut up.

< chapter VII - chapter IX (coming: friday, may 3, 3pm CET) >