filthshotgun

[filthshotgun]

2Moons The Series ming/kit domestic pwp, vanilla with a dash of size kink of various types 1.2k

Kit's sweating and moaning and gasping for breath underneath him, wrists pinned to the bed, eyes half closed and practically rolled back in his head. He'd been so cute in the beginning, back when he was still insisting he was straight. He's still cute, but now sometimes he goes the extra mile of begging and whining for Ming's cock. That, Ming's decided, is the cutest.

"Kitty," he groans into Kit's ear, pushing in slow and deep to make him moan. "My little Kitten."

"Don't - d-don't call me that," Kit whines. "I'm not little." He's breathless, his voice hoarse. He says not to call him that but he shivers, blushes all down his perfect slight body, finds Ming's mouth with enough want and desperation to make it clear that he doesn't mean it and he doesn't want him to stop.

(They've had a lot of discussions regarding how smart it is to act all tsundere while being actively fucked. Something's been worked out, but mostly what Ming knows is that if Kit says they're done they're done. He's fine with that. It's always been true.)

"Kit Kat," Ming murmurs. He adjusts, pulling Kit's hips a little farther up his thighs so he can fuck him even deeper. He curves over, licking a stripe up Kit's throat as though tasting his pulse. "You taste so sweet. Like candy."

Kit's dick is small even erect and Ming loves it. He loves taking the whole thing in his mouth, stroking the length with his tongue and bringing Kit to the edge over and over and over until he's threatening to not only leave the room but also him. (He's always lying.)

Ming fucks hard into him and Kit's dick jerks as he cries out, knees practically by his ears. His cock, (his adorable cock - even though he hates it when Ming calls it his Sweet Little Friend), hard and flushed dark, smearing precum over the sloped convex plane of his lower stomach where he’s filled out a little with chocolate (courtesy of Ming) and rich food (also courtesy of Ming).

("I'm going to get fat," he'll say sometimes, shoveling food into his mouth. "Then you'll see."

Ming always just looks him up and down, from his bony ankles to his knees to his soft waist to his broad, stocky shoulders, to his curious fox eyes and expressive mouth and dimples so beautiful he almost wonders if he really is dating the moon.

"Shut up," Kit says every time, going pink from the tips of his ears all the way down past his collar. It doesn't matter if Ming says anything. The look on his face is enough. "I'm eating. You'll ruin my appetite.")

These days when Ming sneaks up behind him to fold him up in his arms Kit squawks but doesn't resist, instead settling surreptitiously back against Ming's chest and taking a deep quiet breath of relief that he probably doesn't think anyone notices. It's cute. Kit's cute. His body used to be so hard and unyielding under Ming's hands but he's gotten softer. Maybe it's just that he's more relaxed, but these days Ming can wake up his boyfriend with a series of increasingly obnoxious tummy raspberries whereas before there wasn't that much to raspberry. (Sometimes he gets two tones. Kit yells at him when he laughs triumphantly but he's easily quieted with kisses.)

"I'm so close," Kit moans, whines, his voice twisted with effort and ecstasy. "Ming, I - come on--"

Ming could almost come just from hearing Kit's voice like that, sex-drunk and desperate, but the fun isn't over yet.

"What do you say?" he asks, slowing his pace and pounding heavily into him.

"Fuck you," Kit gasps.

"Not quite. Try again."

"Ming, Ming I will - fuck - when this, I'm - Ming--"

"Ask nicely," Ming says, punctuating his words with a series of deep thrusts following the rhythm of his syllables.

"No," Kit hisses. A drop of sweat trickles down his forehead and into his hair. "Just let me come. Let me - oh god--" He sucks in a deep breath and writhes. "Lemme at least touch myself," he amends. He's already sounding humbled. He's feeling weak today. (Ming can't say he minds.)

Ming squeezes Kit's wrists in his hands. "What, you mean with these?"

"Asshole," Kit spits at him. His whole body clenches and for a second Ming's the one at his boyfriend's mercy.

"Such dirty words from such a beautiful mouth," Ming croons. He's close too, practically seeing stars as he pushes over and over and over into Kit's soft, warm, welcoming body. "What do you say?"

"Let go of my wrists I'm your senior." The words tumble out of Kit's mouth like marbles from a bowl. "Ming." (His name in Kit's is barely a breath and he's so close. He's so close.) "Stop teasing me, I'm--" Here it comes. "Please Ming, Ming, please just let me come I'm begging you--"

He doesn't always push Kit until he begs, tears shining at the corners of his eyes, but he does when he's been woken up with a boner poking him in the leg and Kit insisting resolutely that he's Fine he's just full of Nervous Energy as he reads his class notes over and over again with color in his cheeks and the attention span of an aroused jellyfish. (Ming had even asked him what class he was studying for and Kit didn't seem sure.)

Ming pulls out suddenly, (Kit whining weakly when he's left unexpectedly empty), letting his boyfriend fall flat on the bed and releasing Kit's wrists and straightening up and jerking his cock two, three more times to splatter cum over Kit's chest and throat.

"Asshole," Kit moans, "that's not what I asked for, you - that's - Ming--"

Kit's small cock sits on Ming's tongue, throbbing and salty-sweet, and he gives it a long, thorough suck like he's eating a brand new popsicle. Kit chokes, both hands tangling in Ming's hair as his hips kick upward involuntary.

He comes. Ming swallows, coddles his boyfriend through his release, marvels at how beautiful Kit is when he arches up like this with his sweet mouth open in a perfect oh.

Sometimes Kit says Ming's name when he comes. Today is sometimes, and Ming could be ready for round two in minutes just from Kit sobbing something in the shape of his name.

Kit just lies there for a while, splayed a little to keep from touching himself as he stares wall-eyed at the ceiling and tries, naked and beautiful, to catch his breath.

"What are you doing," he says after a bit. His voice is so broken, Ming's gonna get it later.

"Cleaning up after myself." Ming glances up from where he's hanging low over Kit's belly. "Why?"

"You've got cum on your nose," Kit says. "That's disgusting."

"I'm disgusting," Ming says back. He doesn't tend to the jizz on his face, instead opting to dip back down and continue the careful work of licking his own cum off of Kit's body.

"Well at least you're self aware," Kit grumbles. "You're the worst, you know that?"

"Mm. You love me."

"Shut up," Kit says, and Ming doesn't even have to look up to tell he's blushing.

[filthshotgun]

@saltyauntsuga - jikook domestic thing, pwp except with an expansive but not fully explored plot happening somewhere

“Hold on,” Jimin gasps into Jeongguk’s mouth, throat tight and whiny, shifting the way he’s straddling his hips so that their cocks are better aligned.

“Don’t you think I’ve waited long enough for you? Ow, owow, J-Jimin - hyung—”

“Don’t ‘hyung’ me,” Jimin growls, shoving Jeongguk back against the worn upholstery of the back seat as he grinds down, “you’re the one who took your time, I was just making sure everything was perfect. Not that you care about—”

“Later,” Jeongguk gasps, hips stuttering as he grips tight onto Jimin’s waist. His head bounces on the seat back when he lolls back with pleasure, but it opens up his throat to Jimin’s questionable intentions so it all evens out in the end. (It’s February, at least. He could stand to wear turtlenecks for the next few days, just something to cover up the bite marks with imperfectly perfect bruises in the shape of Jimin’s perfectly imperfect teeth.) “We can fight later, hyung, please—”

“Fuck,” Jimin gasps, cupping Jeongguk’s jaw in both hands to pull it forward, to kiss him hard. “Fuck you’re gorgeous. Our Jeonggukkie,” he whisper-sings into Jeongguk’s ear as he quickens his pace and drags Jeongguk’s arms to loop tight around his waist. “Heart-breaker.”

“Just because I proposed ten minutes before you were gonna doesn’t mean—”

“You’ll pay for this,” Jimin cuts him off. He slips one small strong hand between them to palm Jeongguk’s cock through his jeans. “You hear me?”

The words ring in Jeongguk’s ears and he knows each of them individually but putting them together is too hard, he doesn’t have enough oxygen in his brain to both listen to Jimin tease him and want Jimin this bad, this fucking bad. Not at the same time. Not right now. Instead he arches up in the kind of desperate way that used to embarrass him more than it does, arches up and tightens his arms even more around Jimin’s waist and gasps out, “Later, hyung, please - I just—”

“Baby,” Jimin moans, the familiar pet name rolling off his lips like orange honey. Teeth find the erratic thump of his pulse, skimming along his carotid artery and making him thrust up against Jimin’s cock just that much more desperately. “Baby,” Jimin says again, higher this time, sharper. “Fuck - f-fuck, I’m—”

“I love you,” Jeongguk says, and Jimin whimpers. “I’m so fucking psyched you said yes, like - I never expected you to even look at me and now—”

“Shut up, Jeon Jeongguk,” Jimin says, “I love you.”

“Make me,” Jeongguk says, or tries to say, and in response Jimin reaches up to knot his fingers in Jeongguk’s hair and pull him down, kissing him hot and messy the way both of them hated all the time except for times like this, when their blood boiled and Jimin’s tongue was either a holy virtue or a deadly sin and when they dry humped in the backseat of their mostly sensible hatchback—

“Come for me,” Jimin breathes, and Jeongguk obeys.

—

It’s three minutes before Jeongguk says,“I think I need you to drive home.”

Jimin grunts, face tucked into the hollow of Jeongguk’s collarbone. “Gimme five more minutes.”

[filthshotgun]

namjin, domestic au, kink negotiation unfinished but not abandoned

It had been ages. (Fine, not ages.) It had been two days and Namjoon had been missing Seokjin maybe more than he'd like to admit and he'd been bored and everyone was out of town so, okay, okay, maybe he read some stuff Jimin had recommended to him because god knew there was nothing else to do. Might as well subject himself to Jimin's questionable literary taste.

Seokjin left on Friday afternoon, hefting his carry-on as he stood on the curb of the drop-off zone at the airport. "Don't give me that look," he'd said, licking one thumb and attempting to fix one of Namjoon's persistent flyaways in vain. "It's not like I'm going to be gone forever. You're picking me up on Sunday, right?"

"Yeah," Namjoon had said, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jean jacket, hunched over in the chilly wind that sighed through the airport departures lane. "You really think I'd just leave you here?"

"Depends," his husband had said, pulling the handle out of his wheeled bag and spinning it somewhat cheekily on the pavement. "Is there an Overwatch tournament?"

"Okay you know what that was one time--"

"I love you," Seokjin interrupted, stepping forward and coming up just barely on the balls of his feet to press a quick chaste kiss to his temple. "Don't forget to pick me up on Sunday. And don't let Taehyung get you into anything too weird while I'm gone, all right?"

"I'll try to resist," Namjoon mumbled, trying not to be generally heart-warmed and failing spectacularly. (They'd met in high school, years ago, but there was always something just a little bit heart fluttering about Seokjin. Maybe it was his mouth. Maybe it was his eyes. Whatever, it was something, and Namjoon wasn't about to look a gift marriage in the relationship.) "Have a safe flight."

"I have no say in that," Seokjin sang over his shoulder as he headed toward the sliding automatic door leading into the airport.

"Die then," Namjoon shouted after him, opening the driver's side door. Seokjin just laughed and stumbled a little over the threshold, and then he was gone. He was gone, and Namjoon, despite his best efforts, was immediately in danger of being gotten into something weird.

It had been ages, (it had been days), and on Sunday evening when Seokjin tipped down to kiss him, gasping and sloppy, Namjoon just kept saying I missed you whenever he had the breath for it. Each time Seokjin would laugh, if a quick smiling exhale counted as a laugh, he'd laugh and say something like I missed you too or how are you so desperate? or jesus christ, baby, hold still.

It had only been a couple days but Namjoon felt hot and almost brittle under his skin like he'd been carrying around a lightning strike contained in his bones and baking him alive from the inside out. Seokjin's fingertips dragging over him were like a balm and a brand at the same time and when they slipped cautiously up his chest to thumb at Namjoon's nipples he moaned, twisting under the contact.

"Missed you," Seokjin sighed against the corner of his mouth, catching the quick desperate gasp Namjoon let out. "How was your weekend?"

"Lonely," Namjoon said back - and he tried to make himself sound annoyed, he really tried, but instead it just came out like a whine, thin and needy. "Stop being such a goddamn tease, I missed you."

Seokjin hooked an elbow under one of Namjoon's knees, pulling it up and spreading his thighs even farther apart. He took a second, sitting back on his heels on the mattress between Namjoon's legs, idly stroking the curve where Namjoon's hip met his thigh. "How much did you miss me?"

"I hate you."

"No you don't." Seokjin's hand slid easily from Namjoon's hip to the base of his cock, gently rubbing small circles into the impossibly soft skin of his balls. "You love me."

"I love you," Namjoon said, voice coming from some distant place that he strongly suspected he'd never seen. "Jesus, Jin--"

"How much did you miss me?" Seokjin's hand slipped farther down even as he hitched his elbow up, pulling Namjoon even more open with every tiny adjustment. "Tell me how much you missed me, baby."

"I missed you," Namjoon said again, fists clenching on the metal bars set into their headboard. "I - fuck, Jin--"

Seokjin crooked his fingers just a little bit, finding the right place at the right time. "You were saying?"

"I don't know what you want," Namjoon whined, rocking his hips up and then back, almost mindlessly seeking friction. "Jin this isn't fun if I don't know what you want--"

"It's a little bit fun," Seokjin shot back, grinning at him with a funny light in his eyes that looked a lot like wickedness. Namjoon glared at him for a few seconds and it was enough to sober him up. "Yeah, okay. I've just been thinking about you all weekend." He sank down again, kissing Namjoon gently (just the softest brush of lips) and pressing the first finger into him. "I've been thinking about doing this to you all weekend."

When Namjoon tried to say really? the first time he choked on it, air catching in his chest as Seokjin's lube-slick fingers started to push into him. "Really?" he asked after a second, coughing the word out and trying not to make too much of an idiot of himself.

Seokjin nipped at his neck, flexed his fingers to work him carefully through the stretch. (He was usually careful, except for when Namjoon didn't want him to be. Those were always good days followed by very stiff mornings.) "Really," he said, kissing the barely-there mark he'd left on Namjoon's throat. "You ready for me yet?"

"In a minute," Namjoon gasped, tipping his head back like an invitation. "Little more."

He was being selfish. He didn't need all that much more prep before being ready for Seokjin's dick, he just wanted it. He'd had a weekend alone with nothing but his own hand and the feeling of Seokjin's fingers deep inside him was practically addicting and so yeah, okay, all right, he was being selfish. But to be fair Seokjin had started it and Namjoon fully intended to finish.

"You just like it," Seokjin murmured, smiling to himself like he had a secret. "You just like being taken care of like this. Is that it? Do you just want me to touch you more?"

"Not just that." Namjoon arched and fought for breath as Seokjin worked in a third finger without warning. "That's - J-Jin, please--"

"I really wanna fuck you." Seokjin pushed forward just a little bit, and for the first time he seemed almost as desperate as Namjoon felt. "I missed you."

"Yeah," Namjoon said, pulling his knees back.

The room was warm and humid and their panting breath stood only to make it that much hotter, that much wetter. Seokjin hefted Namjoon's hips up his thighs, pulling him up until only his head and upper back still lay on the mattress, struggling for breath and sanity at the same time as he curved over Namjoon and pushed slowly into him.

"You needed it so bad," Seokjin groaned next to Namjoon's ear, shuddering as he sank in as far as he could go. "God, listen to you. You're so loud with my dick in you, baby."

"Shut up," Namjoon choked out - and Seokjin obeyed, closing his mouth and pulling back just to rock in again, slow and powerful at the same time.

It had been ages, (it had been days), and Seokjin filled him up so perfectly it was almost impossible to think, so he didn't. He let himself be fucked, let Seokjin use him as a means to an end, clung to Seokjin's broad shoulders and tried like hell to hold on.

"God," Seokjin hissed against his throat, almost mindless. "Baby--"

"Daddy," Namjoon gasped, and--

Seokjin had stopped cold. "What?" he said, in a strangely high-pitched voice. "Did you--? I mean, if this is - if you're into that we can, uh, we can talk, but like where did this--"

And so it came to pass that Namjoon called his husband daddy in bed and then lay there, cock still in his ass, and actually in real life said the words: "so you know Star Trek?"

[filthshotgun]

i'm glad to see that j-hope knows where the g spot is.

HOW ABOUT NO SIR!

[filthshotgun]

namkook established relationship, thigh riding, nipple play 1.7k~

The room was dark and hot and quiet - or rather it would be quiet, maybe, if things were different. They weren't different, they were exactly what they were, so when Jeongguk broke the throbbing silence it was with a high-pitched sob, muffled in the hem of his t-shirt that he'd stuffed in his mouth in a haphazard attempt at keeping himself at least a little bit quiet - but then Namjoon bit him again and he whined, he actually whined, he whined and arched and shuddered under Namjoon's hand.

Namjoon's lips whispered over the curve of Jeongguk's pectoral and god, his lips - before they'd ever kissed Jeongguk had been mesmerized by Namjoon's mouth, his tongue, his teeth, the way he smiled like an arrogant bastard and the way he smiled like he was the most bashful sweet boy in the world, the way he spit words out fast and quick and lyrical whenever he got excited about something. Before Jeongguk had even thought about it (about them) he'd see Namjoon on campus sometimes and track him, focus grabbed and held and indistractible.

He'd memorized the way Namjoon walked, both when he was alone with his thoughts (earbuds in and sunglasses on) and when he was in a group (long strides, center of gravity just over his hips). The way Namjoon smiled and what every individual smile meant. And his mouth...

"So good, baby," Namjoon murmured against Jeongguk's skin, voice hoarse and breath hot. (Jeongguk shuddered, bowing over, shakily burying his forehead in the hollow where Namjoon's should met his neck.) "You're so good. You doing okay?"

With his shirt in his mouth he couldn't speak, so he just nodded and gasped for breath, hips rocking to grind down against Namjoon's thigh. Namjoon groaned, pushing up against him to make the friction just that much hotter, looping one hand around Jeongguk's slim waist to drag him in even closer, finding Jeongguk's nipple again with tongue and teeth and god, that mouth.

Namjoon was still in his clothes, jeans and a sweater and mismatched socks, but Jeongguk had been waiting for his boyfriend to get home for hours and it had been so hard to keep all of his clothes on that in the end he didn't even try. When Namjoon got home it was to a Jeongguk wearing only one of his oversized white t-shirts and a black pair of boxer briefs that only just barely peeked out from under the hem of his shirt.

"Hi," Jeongguk had said, breathless and sliding to a stop in the hallway that opened into the living room. "Uh. You were gone for a while."

"It's how the whole having a job thing works," Namjoon said back, pausing just briefly as he shouldered out of his coat. "Oh. Okay. You are wearing underwear under that. It looked like you weren't."

"I don't have to," Jeongguk said, and briefly felt proud of himself for sounding seductive rather than shaken and needy before he figured out that maybe he actually did sound shaken and needy. (Fuck it, he decided quietly to himself.) "You need a pick me up?"

"I'm guessing you're not talking about caffeine or alcohol," Namjoon said back, hanging his coat up on one of the hooks in the entryway before finally struggling out of his shoes. "What about you? Do you want a pick me up?"

Jeongguk's heart thudded in his chest so hard he felt like it could almost set him off balance. "Depends," he said, trying to keep his thin, weak voice from sounding quite so desperate. "What kind of pick me up are you talking about?"

There was just something about it, when Namjoon got that one look on his face and advanced on Jeongguk like a wolf stalking a deer - there was something about it that made his joints loosen and his muscles relax so when Namjoon lifted him and dragged him back into their bedroom he just hung on.

"I'm heavy," Jeongguk had gasped, breath pushed out of him from his impact on the mattress when Namjoon set him down without ceremony. "You been working out?"

"Don't have to work out to ravish you," Namjoon said. Paused. "It'd probably help, though."

"Shut up, professor," Jeongguk said, pulling him down onto the bed, pulling him in to kiss him. "Missed you today."

"Missed you today," Namjoon echoed back, but in his voice - low and dark and rough as his mouth worked its way from his mouth, down his jaw, along the line of his throat. "Thought about getting you off all day."

Jeongguk lay on his back on their bed (their bed, it was their bed, sometimes Jeongguk couldn't stop pinching himself because this couldn't possibly be his reality), Namjoon's elbows bracketing his head, Namjoon's teeth on his skin, Namjoon's thick cock pressing against his leg. It felt like sin. (It felt like love.) "I'd like that," he breathed.

On Namjoon's thigh Jeongguk always felt small, delicate, something that Namjoon handled carefully. Lovingly. Namjoon rolled his hips in response every time Jeongguk thrust forward, up his thigh, precum leaving a stain of damp on his black boxer briefs. "You like that," Namjoon said, and it wasn't a question.

Jeongguk tried to speak but when he opened his mouth he just moaned instead, falling forward to support himself on the wall behind Namjoon's  head. "Hyung," he said finally, choking on the word as Namjoon gripped down hard on his hips and dragged the underside of Jeongguk's dick along his leg. "Hyung, I--"

"So chatty today," Namjoon said, voice obnoxiously and intoxicatingly sophisticated. Controlled. He didn't sound affected at all whereas Jeongguk was affected. He was so, so affected. "Hike your shirt up to your armpits and bite it." He grinned, and it was the one grin that turned Jeongguk into a puddle of desire every damn time. "It serves a dual purpose."

He didn't think to ask what Namjoon meant by a dual purpose until he already had the roll of t-shirt material in his mouth, muffling every sound he made, because Namjoon waited patiently for him to finish before pulling him inescapably close and laving his tongue over Jeongguk's nipple.

Jeongguk tried to say no even though he wanted it, he wanted it, he'd been wanting it so bad all day that he'd given in only thirty minutes before Namjoon was supposed to get home and spent every second of time he had left to wait to lay back against the pillows stacked up at the headboard of their bed with his shirt pushed up, watching himself brush his fingertips over and around his nipples until they were soft and dark and puffy, tender, needy. He'd watched himself in the mirrored doors of their shared wardrobe lining the opposite wall. He'd imagined that it was Namjoon watching him for a little while before he had to stop for fear he'd come too soon.

Jeongguk tried to say no but thanked god for the fabric between his teeth because what he meant was too much, he meant that's too much but too much was exactly what he wanted, (what he needed), and anyway Namjoon was using his teeth now and the only sound he could make was a high, desperate keening as his hips rocked and stuttered against Namjoon's firm thigh.

"So good, baby," Namjoon murmured against Jeongguk's skin, voice hoarse and breath hot. (Jeongguk shuddered, bowing over, shakily burying his forehead in the hollow where Namjoon's should met his neck.) "You're so good. You doing okay?"

With his shirt in his mouth he couldn't speak, so he just nodded and gasped for breath, hips rocking to grind down against Namjoon's thigh. Namjoon groaned, pushing up against him to make the friction just that much hotter, looping one hand around Jeongguk's slim waist to drag him in even closer, finding Jeongguk's nipple again with tongue and teeth and god, that mouth.

"Baby boy needed it all day," Namjoon mumbled into Jeongguk's skin, but he was almost laughing when he said it. "You miss me that much?"

Jeongguk shuddered again, (had he stopped shuddering all day?), hands finding Namjoon's shoulders, nails digging into the skin, and when Namjoon bit one nipple and tweaked the other with his hand it was too much, finally actually really too much, and Jeongguk tipped over the edge, coming hard, pulsing and gasping his way through the release.

When he came back to himself Namjoon was tipped back against the headboard, cradling Jeongguk lovingly against his chest and leaving soft, gentle kissing in his messy tangled hair. "You're cute," Namjoon said, and the puff of breath when he spoke ruffled Jeongguk's hair. "You were so desperate. I should stay late at work more often."

Jeongguk let out a little wordless whine of protest, wiggling a little to settle even closer against Namjoon's chest. "You're still wearing clothes."

"I know," Namjoon said, laughing a little. (The sound of it ran up Jeongguk's spine like a finger along a piano, the highest notes reverberating in his skull.) He nudged Jeongguk gently and nodded at something behind his head. "Look how ravished you are."

He glanced over his shoulder, and there they were. In the mirror Namjoon looked normal, casual, sitting back against the pillows with one knee kicked up and the sleeves of his sweater rolled up to his elbows. But then there was Jeongguk, wearing only a thin white t-shirt (pulled up to show his nipples - even from here he could see bruises starting to bloom on his chest) and black underwear and a fucked out expression. "I look like your whore," he said, words slurring in his mouth.

"Only if you want to."

"I want you to get off," Jeongguk said, turning back to look Namjoon in the face. Reached up to sleepily brush a strand of hair hanging in his face. "And I want you to use me to do it."

"Ohh," Namjoon said, rolling over to dump Jeongguk back onto the mattress. "It's one of those days. I'll get the lube."

[filthshotgun]

chansoo casual sex, size kink, bottom!ksoo wc 3.2k~

A year ago he knew he'd recognize this as a bad idea but here and now it didn't really strike him as that morally corrupt. He'd spent the last two days at the bottom of a metaphorical hole and fuck it, fuck it, he couldn't keep feeling so goddamn sorry for himself he had to do something, he had to change something, he needed to take a risk--

"You smell good," the guy from the gay bar mumbled into his hair, long arms snaking around him to rest broad palms on his hipbones. "Is this just the way you smell all the time? That's fucked up. You smell so fucking good."

"Just lucky I guess," Kyungsoo said in response, pushing back the crashing waves of shame enough to grind back against his thigh.

The guy from the gay bar was named Chanyeol, (or at least that's how he'd introduced himself half an hour ago, offering Kyungsoo a drink and a long, appraising look), and he was tall and broad and lanky. His legs were bowed in such a way that he walked with an unintentional swagger that had gone straight to Kyungsoo's dick when he met Chanyeol's eyes across the gay bar for the first time. It wasn't necessarily that Kyungsoo liked his men big, (which of course he did), and more because that face on that body with those hands and that mouth.

It wasn't a very good reason but Kyungsoo didn't care. He was too drunk (on alcohol, on endorphins, on pheromones, on grief) and all he wanted was to be destroyed. Invaded completely. Pulled open like a tangerine, each slice thin and translucent if held up to the light.

The elevator dinged, doors sighing open, and Kyungsoo barely needed to move because Chanyeol was so - he was just so powerful in a way that made Kyungsoo absolutely ache, so careful and strong and rough all at the same time.

"761," Chanyeol mumbled, eyes distracted as they made their way down the hotel corridor.

It was one of those high-end hotels, no hourly love motels here. Chanyeol had rolled up to the reception desk and laid down a credit card and asked for their nicest room, three bottles of cabernet, and privacy. Kyungsoo had just come for the ride, watching owlishly as money changed hands and Chanyeol cocked his head confidently and his adam's apple, the line of his throat, the way his carotid artery only barely trembled under his skin with each heartbeat.

"This is a rebound," Kyungsoo had said back in the bar. "Nothing more than that."

Chanyeol had been undeterred and now they were in front of a hotel room door, sliding the key card, stepping over the threshold--

"You want foreplay or what," Chanyeol breathed against Kyungsoo's throat, hands creeping down to tangle with the hem of his t-shirt, fingertips slipping up his waist and then dipping down again to slide under the waistband of his jeans, the elastic of his underwear. "Anything is fine with me."

"Yeah," Kyungsoo said, stupid and dazed as he reached back to loop his arms over Chanyeol's neck. (Chanyeol's lips on his neck, tongue, teeth.) "It - it's been a little while so some prep would be nice."

"I love how you're a human being," Chanyeol said a little while later. He was sitting at the edge of the huge soft bed with Kyungsoo standing shirtless between his thighs, running his hands over the soft planes and curves of Kyungsoo's body. His fingertips dragged on the skin, leaving pale stripes that flooded full of color in seconds, each one almost unbearably hot and almost unbearably heavy, gripping down on his hipbones.

"That's not a very reassuring statement," Kyungsoo said, but Chanyeol ran both thumbs over his nipples and he almost couldn't care. "You - what, are you some kind of, o-of alien?"

"You're just so human," Chanyeol murmured, dark eyes flickering up to bore into him. "You're so compact and sturdy and real--"

"So?"

"So I want to bend you in half and make you cry," Chanyeol said, deep voice going even deeper, needier, hands sliding up Kyungsoo's shoulders, throat, neck, tangling long fingers in Kyungsoo's grown out hair, dragging him down so that Chanyeol could catch his mouth.

Kyungsoo preferred not to show any weakness but he needed this so bad, so bad he could barely keep himself tied back even when Chanyeol wasn't doing a damn thing, but when Chanyeol licked territorially into his mouth he couldn't help but moan.

It felt instantaneous, like if he blinked he'd missed it, but somehow Kyungsoo ended up on his back (mattress bouncing under him) with Chanyeol hanging over him, just - just looking at him, eyes flickering as he worked his way across every square inch of skin.

For a second he felt just how sharp the chill of the air conditioner was against his skin, the fine hairs on his arms standing up as he shifted. Wrapped both arms loosely over his chest, stomach. "Don't look at me like that."

"Just trying to figure out how the fuck anyone would ever break up with you," Chanyeol groaned, corner of his mouth tweaking upward as he leaned in to press a kiss to the place just where Kyungsoo's jaw met his earlobe. "Doesn't make any sense."

"Sometimes straight guys just have to figure stuff out," Kyungsoo said. The words came out stuttered as he stretched and flexed under Chanyeol's careful attention. "Sometimes they take almost a year and end up falling for their coworker."

"Sometimes fuckers like me have the honor of comforting you." Chanyeol's too-big hands fumbled with the fly of Kyungsoo's jeans, pulling them open and down and dragging his briefs along with them. "If I wasn't into guys already I would be after I saw you. Fuck, you're pretty."

"I'm not pretty--"

"You're right," Chanyeol mumbled, lips dragging over Kyungsoo's skin as he worked his way downward. "Gorgeous. God I'd love to see you bounce on my cock." He laughed, the puff of breath and rumble of Chanyeol's rolling over the smooth plane of his lower stomach. "I'd love to hear what you sound like."

When Kyungsoo opened his mouth it was to protest, or talk back, or hell, just tell this Bizarro Babadook to shut up and fuck him. Instead he sucked in an irritable breath and then immediately released it in the shape of a desperate, wordless cry as Chanyeol sucked Kyungsoo's entire cock into his mouth.

"Oh my god," Kyungsoo gasped. Arched. Clung to the pillows stacked against the headboards. Dug his heels into the mattress to gain just enough leverage to grind up into Chanyeol's hot, perfect mouth. "Oh - oh my god--"

Chanyeol groaned around his dick, taking it perfectly, and the hum of it rattled Kyungsoo to his core. He could feel the pinpricks of sweat on his skin, couldn't make himself look away from the way Chanyeol took all of him every time, found himself curling up tighter and tighter and tighter--

"No," Kyungsoo choked out. "N-no, no, I don't wanna come already--"

It was agonizing, watching Chanyeol pull slowly off of him, watching Chanyeol watching him, making eye contact as he licked a bead of precum off the tip of his cock.

"You have to promise to finish me off," Kyungsoo added. "I don't appreciate--"

"I was sorta hoping I'd get to finish us both off at the same time," Chanyeol said, sitting back to unzip his jeans.

"My ex had a massive dick," Kyungsoo said back. (He tried not to roll his eyes.) "And he couldn't - um--"

"Quality over quantity," Chanyeol quipped, pulling the biggest dick Kyungsoo had ever seen out of his boxers. "I'm always good for a challenge."

"Oh," Kyungsoo said. It was a monster. Would that even fit? "Oh. Uh."

Concern flashed over Chanyeol's face as he looked up. "You okay?"

Kyungsoo thought about Chanyeol's dick. He thought about his ex's dick. He thought about mass displacement.

"I am great," Kyungsoo said.

--

He hadn't wanted to waste too much time on foreplay (he just wanted to get dicked, that's all he needed, he just needed to feel like he was worth something) but there he was anyway, whining and gasping breathlessly into Chanyeol's mouth as he ground down hard on his fingers. Chanyeol had been working him open for a while, but instead of getting bored with it like he usually did every new thing was hotter and better than the last and he couldn't quite manage to catch his breath.

His knees popped a little as he rocked backward, pushing back to fuck himself on Chanyeol's fingers. He'd looped both arms around the back of Chanyeol's neck a while ago and now could barely even imagine letting himself let go, hanging from him. "Please," Kyungsoo croaked, voice tight as Chanyeol moved inside him. "No more, please--"

But then he was gone and Kyungsoo was left empty and gasping, scrambling up to give Chanyeol his most pathetic look. "You told me to stop," Chanyeol said, in answer to Kyungsoo's wordless plea.

"I didn't," Kyungsoo gasped, "that's not - I just... I say stuff like that but I still want, um--"

"So you need, like... a safe word?"

"A what?"

Chanyeol laughed, but it was nervous. "Like you can say 'no' as much as you want but if you say something specific - like, I don't know, 'oatmeal' or something - that means No Actually, Stop. But could you... could you warn me?"

"I'm going to complain," Kyungsoo said, words tumbling out of him like marbles spilling from a bowl, taking shape in the air as an observation he'd never given much thought to before. "I'm going to act all overstimulated and stuff, and - and I will be but I won't want you to stop."

"So before," Chanyeol said mildly, sliding his lubed fingers back over the curve of Kyungsoo's ass. "When you said no more..."

"Way more," Kyungsoo sighed - then cried out, four of Chanyeol's fingers stretching him open. "Oh my god, oh, ohfuck--"

"Trying to decide how to fuck you," Chanyeol groaned against Kyungsoo's throat. "I like the idea of having you bounce on my cock."

"F-fuck, Chanyeol--"

"But then there's always laying you out like a buffet," Chanyeol said, nipping at the helix of Kyungsoo's ear. (His breath was hot, roaring. Kyungsoo shuddered and loved it.) "Putting your knees up by your ears and fucking you stupid."

Kyungsoo curled against Chanyeol's throat, clinging to his shoulders with both hands as Chanyeol dragged his fingertips over parts of him so sensitive Kyungsoo could swear he could feel the whorls of his fingerprints. "Whatever," he said. "Whatever you want. I just - I need--"

The world shifted, Chanyeol pushing up on his knees to dump Kyungsoo gently onto the mattress, limbs splayed out and head nearly tipping over the edge of the bed. Kyungsoo felt like he couldn't catch his breath. He was too hot, sweating, but Chanyeol's eyes on him (Chanyeol's hands on him) sent shivers up his spine and over his skin.

A laugh. Chanyeol curved over him, dipping down to murmur, "wanna get fucked?" in Kyungsoo's ear. He didn't have words for it, he didn't have words for anything, Chanyeol's big broad lean body was so close over him that heat seemed to pool between them. It was like a vacuum, the heat pulling both of them insistently closer and closer and closer into one another's orbit.

Kyungsoo reached up, looping his arms loosely around Chanyeol's neck, and made the kind of noise he'd be humiliated by in any other circumstance. (He'd never made that noise with his ex, although it was starting to become more and more obvious that it was because his ex had never done anything to warrant it.) "Yeah," he said, tongue thick in his mouth with need. It was almost a whine and he was embarrassed and frustrated and god, god, so motherfucking horny. "Please."

His vision flickered white, static and white noise and a funny sound that he belatedly realized was his own voice, cracking and breaking and crying out as Chanyeol breached him. Just the first push hurt enough (a hurt so bad and so thick that Kyungsoo never wanted it to stop) and then Chanyeol would rock back, push in, rock back, push in--

There was a brief pause, Chanyeol gasping for breath against Kyungsoo's throat as his grip clenched and shook on Kyungsoo's hipbones. "You - you're so tight, are you okay? Is this okay?"

No. Yes. Maybe? "Fuck me," Kyungsoo choked out, bracing himself.

It seemed to take forever for Chanyeol to bottom out. When their hips met Chanyeol let out a low, throaty groan and rolled his hips in the same sort of movement as settling into a soft mattress. His cock filled the whole world and Kyungsoo could barely think.

There was something strangely funny about it - Kyungsoo was so used to being stuck in his head all the time but now he was involuntarily grounded, existence tied to his body, brain doing very little actually thinking for the sake of being a containment unit for a whole armada of fireworks.

"You okay?" Chanyeol's breath whispering over the sweat on his skin. Chanyeol's lips just barely grazing his throat. "If you need a minute--"

"Gentle," Kyungsoo managed. He could feel every heartbeat as his pulse rolled through his body. He wondered if he'd wake up the next morning with bruises on his hips. (He wondered if he'd wake up the next morning with a broken back.) "Start - s-start slow--"

--

He'd never known exactly what kind of sex he'd always really needed. It hadn't occurred to him that there was any such thing, that there might be a way of getting fucked that satisfied every want and scratched every inch. He'd had pretty good sex before, (or he'd thought it had been pretty good at the time), but while there were some commonalities the thing itself was notably different.

Chanyeol pressed Kyungsoo's cheek down hard into the upholstered cushion of the hotel room sofa, one big hand cradling his head easily, the other keeping his hips in position, pounding hard into him. They'd started on the bed but it turned out that Chanyeol kinda had a thing for picking him up and carrying him around (cock still buried deep inside him) in order to fuck him up against the wall, bent over a table, and now against a couch.

Kyungsoo hadn't gotten off yet but he'd been so close, so fucking close, so close he could almost taste it, only for Chanyeol to drag him back from the edge with a hiss of, "you don't get to come yet," in his ear.

Getting fucked by Chanyeol scratched every single goddamn itch, and sometimes Kyungsoo had to rein himself back hard not to come just from the thrill of Chanyeol's voice in his ear.

A sudden emptiness took him by surprise and he gasped, whined, ground back tried to find Chanyeol's cock. "Wanna see your face when you come," Chanyeol said, pulling Kyungsoo up with both hands on his ribs only to flop down on the couch and drag Kyungsoo down to straddle his hips. "God, you're gorgeous. Look at you."

Kyungsoo looked down, sitting back on his heels as he fought for breath. Their cocks were aligned almost sweetly, Chanyeol's heavy against his stomach and Kyungsoo's laying alongside it. It was a mess of lube and precum. When he moved a hand loosely over them both Chanyeol groaned and rocked up into the sensation.

"You're pretty okay yourself," Kyungsoo managed, voice weak and cracking. "It's nice. You're nice. This is nice."

"Do you think flattery will get you anywhere?"

Kyungsoo looked at him, vision blurry but still twisted into a glare. "Yes," he said. "I do."

Chanyeol nodded, dark eyes almost wicked. "You got me there." (No, they were wicked. Nothing about Chanyeol wasn't wicked, and the recognition of that sent a shudder through Kyungsoo's body.) "I'm gonna have you sit on my dick and bounce you until you come?"

"What?" Kyungsoo felt like his voice was coming from a long way away, like someone in the next room over had made a recording and now was blasting it through the walls. "Until I--"

"So about a minute," Chanyeol said, hefting Kyungsoo's loose, fucked out body up by the armpits. The head of his cock rubbed against him, slipping in the mess of lube and precum between his legs, making his legs shake at just the thought of being so perfectly filled up again. "You ready?"

"No," Kyungsoo breathed. "Fuck me."

It was just as much a stretch as it had been the first time, Chanyeol dropping him unexpectedly, letting him sink down until Kyungsoo's ass sat flush against Chanyeol's sharp hips. His head buzzed, the breath caught in his throat, it took him way too long to realize that the sound he'd been hearing was Chanyeol's voice.

"You okay, baby?" Kyungsoo was lying prone against Chanyeol's chest, forehead pressed against the place where his shoulder met his neck. His voice rumbled, (a deep vibration that sank deep into Kyungsoo's body), his heartbeat was strong and steady, his too-broad hands gently rubbing the muscles in Kyungsoo's lower back. "Was that too fast?"

Words were too hard (hell, just breathing was too hard) so Kyungsoo settled for burying his sweat-streaked face against Chanyeol's neck, hooking both arms over the back of his neck, moaning, rolling his hips back--

"Fuck," Chanyeol groaned into Kyungsoo's hair. "Fuck, you're so--"

Words were too hard, they were way too hard - and so instead they moved together, Chanyeol's hands gripped tight around Kyungsoo's hips, lifting him over and over and over, fucking hard up into him. It almost didn't matter how good he was because his cock was so big no part of Kyungsoo was neglected, and when Kyungsoo came he came untouched, whining and gasping and writhing tight against Chanyeol's chest.

His orgasm almost seemed to set Chanyeol off too, and when he felt the jerk of Chanyeol's cock inside him he couldn't help but choke out Chanyeol's name, the sound bitten back and buried in Chanyeol's skin.

Chanyeol said something but it was breathless, gravelled, impossibly deep, and anyway Kyungsoo was distracted by the pulse and throb of every individual nerve in his body reacting all at once.

"Okay," he said, some indefinite time afterward, "I think I need you to pull out now."

"Yes sir," Chanyeol mumbled amiably into his hair, lifting him carefully so as to slide out. The sound was obscene, obscene in the kind of way that sent a jolt of electricity through Kyungsoo's body. "You okay?"

"I liked it when you called me baby."

"You can be my baby anytime."

Kyungsoo picked up his head to glare blearily into Chanyeol's face. "You're a rebound, you know. I'm down to fuck sometimes but that's probably it."

Chanyeol shrugged, tipping his head back and wrapping his stupid-long arms around Kyungsoo's (admittedly narrow) shoulders. "Better to have bounced you on my cock and lost than to never have bounced you on my cock at all."

"Shakespeare?"

"... I think I've been missing out big time."

[filthshotgun]

"Why are you always like this?"

Seokjin pulled away from Namjoon to speak - barely a millimeter, lips still brushing the skin. "When am I ever anything else?"

"... What?"

"You think about that," Seokjin mumbled, words slurred as he pressed another kiss to the soft, thin skin of Namjoon's inner thigh. "I'm busy."

The sounds Namjoon made were like peppered honey, all smooth sighs and quiet groans and the noise made when someone bites back a moan - but with brief moments of breathless whining thrown in from time to time. Seokjin nipped at the curve where Namjoon's leg met his hip, dragged the flat of his tongue over the bite, worked his way upwards in a lazy, careless zigzag. Namjoon shuddered.

"Yoongi could get back any time," Namjoon managed, his rough voice coming from somewhere above Seokjin's head. "This - we--"

"He'd text me to let me know. Scoot up on the pillows a little." Seokjin pushed Namjoon up the bed, settling on his knees between Namjoon's shins and tipping forward to bracket his waist with both hands planted on the bed. (God. He looked good enough to eat.) "Will you let hyung suck your dick?"

"Does hyung want to?" Namjoon said back. He was getting better at his poker face, but he still stuttered just a little, voice shaking. He still flushed pink on his neck, the tips of his ears. "I'm not opposed."

"I want to suck your dick," Seokjin said, dipping down to press open-mouthed kisses down Namjoon's chest, his diaphragm, his abdomen-- "It's not complicated. I want to taste you and put you in my mouth and feel you and stuff myself with you until I almost choke."

Namjoon bit his lip, letting out a tiny wordless whine of yes, please. "Hyung--"

He breathed in a quick gasp as Seokjin propped his dick up with one hand and curved down to leave gentle kitten licks over the head, tasting the precum on his tongue. It didn't taste like salted caramel but it always made Seokjin think of salted caramel - the dark, bitter kind of caramel (maybe even infused with lime; the darkest of dark chocolate; both) with the sting of sea salt to sharpen the swell. A complex bittersweet shot through with lightning, and Seokjin couldn't stop himself from sucking the whole tip gently into his mouth.

It was a strained, needy hiccup. Seokjin suckled at Namjoon's cock - like he was exploring, like he'd never tasted Namjoon before - almost absent-mindedly stroking the shaft with one thumb as his palm stayed steady at the base.

Seokjin forced himself to pull off, just for a second. "Do you want to come in hyung's mouth?" His voice was thick, saturated with arousal and saliva and Namjoon's precum.

Namjoon said something that sounded a little bit like a strained and desperate uh-huh, hips jumping involuntarily as Seokjin's breath sighed over his spit-slick cock.

Maybe some other time Seokjin would tease him, make him work for it, wear him down to the very last millimeter of his proverbial rough before finally allowing release, but he needed to feel Namjoon's thick cock glancing off the back of his throat. Needed to taste the complexities of Namjoon's cum. It had been too long, (days), and the only word Seokjin could think of that described how he felt was hunger.

Namjoon said something that sounded a little bit like a strained and desperate uh-huh and Seokjin moaned with relief, sinking down on Namjoon's dick to slick the entire length with saliva.

("Oh my god," Namjoon hissed to himself, arching his back and clinging to the pillows behind him.)

He was mouth-hungry. He needed to feel all of it, everything, he needed to suck and lick and swallow and god, god he needed to hear Namjoon enjoy every single second of it. He didn't do anything fancy. Fancy could happen later, after Namjoon had come hard down his throat for the first time in nearly a week, but right now what he needed was to suck Namjoon's dick until he got off.

Hands curled in his hair, fingers flexing as Namjoon's hips started rocking involuntarily up into Seokjin's mouth. Seokjin pulled back almost far enough to pull off before sucking Namjoon back in, hard, using the tip of his tongue to tease the throbbing vein running along the underside of Namjoon's cock.

Salt on his tongue, air catching in Namjoon's chest, hands tightening in his hair. Seokjin couldn't keep the moan out of his chest, his throat, his mouth-- "Hyung," Namjoon gasped, "hyung, I'm - I'm close--" --and Namjoon's cum flooded into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat so hot and so fast that he nearly choked, swallowing again and again and again before he could breathe again.

Seokjin sucked gently on Namjoon's cock as he came down from his orgasm, sighing and moaning and twisting. Kept Namjoon's dick in his mouth as it softened, stroking it just slightly with his tongue. "Can't," Namjoon managed finally, nudging at the top of Seokjin's head. "Too much."

"You haven't even been masturbating?" Seokjin pushed back up, settling his weight back on his heels. (His neck popped. Thank god.) "You can't have missed me that much."

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do," Namjoon sighed, languidly reaching forward to pull Seokjin down onto the bed next to him. "You're not my mom."

"I'm your hyung, though." Seokjin wriggled up close, sliding one hand down Namjoon's thigh as he murmured in his boyfriends ear. "You taste good."

"You haven't gotten off." Namjoon rolled over, joints loose with sex. "Can I help?"

Seokjin curved over, bringing his lips to the side of Namjoon's neck. "Ass up."

[filthshotgun]

A good way to figure out if Jongdae is awake or still asleep is to palm his dick, which Minseok didn't mind doing at all. It was stiff but soft - for a few seconds, anyway, when it started hardening again in response to Minseok's feather light touch.

He'd fully intended just to check whether or not Jongdae was awake, that was all, but now Jongdae sighed and stretched and rolled his hips sleepily up and against Minseok's hand and how was he supposed to just ignore that? It was unreasonable, expecting him to ignore the soft whining noise Jongdae breathed out as Minseok wrapped a hand around him, the way Jongdae's tongue flickered out to wet his lips as he arched just slightly off the bed. He couldn't, so he didn't. He dipped down to wake Jongdae up with a kiss instead.

It was an honest to god moan Minseok got out of him as Jongdae slowly rose past the surface of consciousness, sighed directly into his mouth so he could swallow it. Keep it. Bring it out on lonely nights to turn over and over in his hands, the memory of Jongdae's voice strangled and thick and gasping.

Outside there were ten inches of snow on the ground. Streets were closed. Thousands were out of power. Snow tires or chains were required on all roads. There were ten inches of snow outside, but inside Minseok was curled up warm against Jongdae's side, hanging over him, holding onto him. They couldn't get anywhere and even if they could there was nowhere to go, everything snowed over and everybody snowed in, so they slept in in the ethereal glow of a snow-covered world.

"Good morning," Jongdae sighed, voice creaking a little in his chest. "Time is it?"

"Dunno." Minseok kissed his jawline, his throat, nuzzling into the hollow where his neck met his shoulders and nipping at the cream bronzed skin. "We're not late for anything."

"That's - ah--" Jongdae rolled his hips, eyes fluttering closed. "Why are you being like this to me?"

"Because it snowed," Minseok said. "And we're naked. And I like you." He pushed up, swinging over to straddle Jongdae's hips, breath catching in his chest as he settled down against Jongdae's intoxicating heat. "I know we just had sex a couple hours ago--"

Jongdae's cock twitched between them. "So?" he asked, eyes going dark as he sat up slowly.

"So - so don't feel pressured--"

"I never feel pressured," Jongdae interrupted, twisting to dump Minseok on his back on the mattress and settle between his legs, hands bracketing Minseok's head. "Do you want me to fuck you? Cause I wanna fuck you."

"You're so greasy," Minseok said back, but his voice was shaking. "Y-yeah - yeah, I mean. I want to have sex."

It had only been a few hours since they'd woken up before sunrise when their alarms went off for work, only to find seven inches of snow outside. Minseok said he liked it and Jongdae had, of course, responded with: "want me to slip you seven inches of something else?"

("Hmm," Minseok had said in mock-thoughtful tones. "You know, I'd love that, but I'd be willing to settle for three." Jongdae had fucked him extra hard for that, and wouldn't let him come until he agreed that his dick was at least five inches.)

Jongdae had indeed slipped him [redacted] inches at that point, taking it slow, teasing, filling him up with lube and come, and when Jongdae slipped a hand between Minseok's thighs he swirled his fingers through the slick, still leaking slowly out of him even now.

He pushed in two fingers first and Minseok put up almost no resistance, groaning and sinking down onto his fingers. "You're still so wet, hyung." Jongdae's voice was soft, gentle. Like he wasn't about to fuck his boyfriend into the mattress. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were already prepped and lubed you. I could almost fuck you without even--"

"Do that," Minseok gasped, using his heels to pull Jongdae in as close as he could. "I'm - if it doesn't work the lube's right there, but--"

Jongdae pulled his fingers out, wiping them clean on Minseok's inner thigh before pushing his knees up (bringing his ass off the bed) and leaning down to kiss him. "I'll be careful," he murmured, and sank slowly down into Minseok's heat.

Minseok had seen bigger dicks than Jongdae's (not in person, unfortunately) but sometimes when he was being filled up so completely like this he couldn't even imagine how anything bigger would feel. He had to focus on his breathing and try not to put too much air into gasping and whining as Jongdae invaded him deep, forehead pressed to his clavicles as he fought for breath. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Minseok said. He was mostly okay. The slide was fine, but the stretch took a little getting used to. "Just - just gimme a minute--"

"Ten seconds," Jongdae groaned against him, teeth closing on Minseok's throat.

"Forty-five, Jongdae, come on--"

"Twenty seconds."

"Thirty, I can do thirty, o-oh, oh fuck--"

"It's been thirty seconds," Jongdae sighed, breath tight in his throat as he pulled almost all the way out and then slowly back in. "Want me to fuck you?"

"Yeah," Minseok said, and held on for dear life.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Minseok said, glaring at his throat in the mirror. "Just because we're snowed in today doesn't mean I can afford to go in to work tomorrow looked like I was savaged by an octopus."

"Temperatures are predicted to stay below freezing through Friday," Jongdae said, coming up behind him to wrap both arms in his rib cage and nuzzle behind his ear. "The snow's probably sticking around until Saturday at the earliest, and neither of us have chains or snow tires. We're stuck here." He kissed Minseok on the shoulder with a quick pop. "I'll go make some coffee."

"Wait--"

Jongdae skidded to a stop halfway out of the bathroom. "Yeah?"

"I'm topping later," Minseok said. "Mark my words."

Jongdae saluted. "You and I are on the same page, sir."

@youngnerdyandscreaming

[filthshotgun]

Jeongsuk kissed Jimin in the dark, under the quilts piled up on the bed in defense against the bitter cold. Jimin's skin was chilly against her lips so she kissed her again and again and again until heat rose in her cheeks. "I'm cold," Jeongsuk murmured, sliding over to tuck up tight against Jimin's hips.

"Oh," Jimin sighed back, a laugh in her voice. "You're cold? C'mere and let me warm you up then."

Jimin's small hands were like smooth stones fresh from the desert, holding onto a comforting, dry heat no matter the temperature outside, and when she slipped those delicate fingertips under the hem of Jeongsuk's t-shirt it was like being marked by ten perfect fingerprint brands. In the beginning Jeongsuk always resolved to say levelheaded, calm, tease Jimin just much as Jimin always managed to tease her, but Jimin was Jimin. Small. Rounded. Innocent, shy smiles and cherry-blossom pink blush in her cheeks when she was embarrassed, but above all much more experienced.

Jeongsuk always wanted to dominate Jimin and it never, ever worked out the way she intended. Jimin could act sweet, cute, oblivious - but that innocent mouth hid a skilled tongue, those doll hands held more strength than they looked as though they should.

"This is my shirt, isn't it?" Jimin's velvet voice purred over Jeongsuk's throat as she trailed her fingertips up Jeongsuk's ribs. "I can tell just by - ah." She cupped both of Jeongsuk's breasts in her palms, squeezing just very, very slightly. "You know my shirts are too small on you. You're gonna stretch it out."

"I'm not gonna stretch it out," Jeongsuk said - or tried to say, tripping over her words as Jimin dragged both thumbs over her nipples, over the taut jersey of the t-shirt. "A-ah - unnie--"

The heaviness of the quilt, the soft heat of their flannel sheets... the world was close in and muffled and Jeongsuk could hear every breath and rustle and swallow. She could hear it perfectly, how Jimin wet her lips with a flicker of her tongue, took a quick breath, curved in. Jimin's mouth opened, the quiet pop of her lips parting, to catch the bud of Jeongsuk's nipple between tongue and teeth.

It was a superpower, Jeongsuk was pretty goddamn sure, of which Jimin was the sole possessor - moving in all the right ways, setting her blood on fire with barely a word - bringing Jeongsuk to full, trembling attention in a matter of seconds. Jeongsuk moaned and Jimin bit her gently in response, saliva seeping through the fabric of her t-shirt.

Careful fingertips slipped down, dragging over Jeongsuk's stomach and disappearing under her elastic waistband of her sweat pants. "God," Jeongsuk gasped, canting almost helplessly against the slip and pressure of Jimin's fingers. "Unnie, yeah--"

She was wetter than she'd realized - when Jimin slipped down and into her the slick spilled and pooled on the skin of her inner thigh. She was hornier than she'd realized, trembling and moaning as Jimin slid her fingers forward and up to find the head of her clitoris. Jimin swung one leg over to straddle her thigh and hiked her shirt up to her armpits to frame the soft swell of her breasts.

"You're so pretty." Jimin's breath sighed gently over Jeongsuk's nipple and she had to bite her lip to keep from making a noise. "You're so fucking pretty."

Jeongsuk sucked in a shaking breath, gathering her strength for a retort, and Jimin slipped two fingers into her.

"That's not," she gasped, hiccuping, "th-that's not fair--"

"Life isn't fair," Jimin breathed back, voice singsong and delicate, then leaned down again to nip and suck at Jeongsuk's breasts.

Jeongsuk's first girlfriend (if she could even be called that - it had been a really weird relationship) had been awkward and inattentive and ultimately straight - what sex they had wasn't very good, but Jeongsuk hadn't had enough experience to judge. Then Jimin happened, and Jeongsuk's life changed forever.

Jimin, on top of not being even a little bit straight, was just really, really good. She was attentive. She picked up on tiny cues and kissed her the right way and didn't push her too hard to be ready for things and fuck, fuck, she knew exactly what she was doing.

"Unnie, fuck--" Heat was curling in the pit of her stomach and Jimin didn't stop, didn't slow down, Jeongsuk moaned and flexed and came, spilling over Jimin's fingers as she shook through her orgasm.

Jimin pulled her hand away slowly, gently. Curved up to kiss Jeongsuk long and hard deep. "Warm enough, baby?"

"Maybe," Jeongsuk sighed, rolling over to follow her girlfriend over the mattress. "I'd like to return the favor."

[filthshotgun]

She tastes almost bitter. (Next rule: eat more fruits and vegetables.) She tastes almost bitter, but Jimin's always liked things bitter. She drinks gin and tonic, grapefruit juice. She's good with bitter, and she's so, so good with the way Yoongi gasps and whimpers under her.

They're still in the Getting To Know You phase. Different things tried at different times. Quality control. Jimin drags the flat of her tongue up and over the place between Yoongi's legs and notes the bitter taste at the same time as she notes the stuttered sob of surprise and ecstasy Yoongi chokes out.

Yoongi's hands are twisted in the sheet, like she's afraid she'll pull Jimin's hair, and Jimin can't find it in herself to tell her she doesn't have to worry. The way Yoongi scrambles for purchase on the smooth weave is gratifying, to say the least. Jimin wants to settle between Yoongi's thighs and watch Yoongi fall apart one frenzied grasp at a time, and she probably could - but right now she needs something just slightly more immediate.

"Pull up your shirt," Jimin says, voice low and a little hoarse. She's got Yoongi on her tongue. On her lips. When she looks straight into Yoongi's eyes and kisses along her inner thigh each kiss pops with Yoongi's slick. "I wanna see your stomach."

This was part of the date. Jimin had texted Yoongi to meet her at a restaurant in the middle of downtown in a long oversized belted white t-shirt and shoes and nothing else. Yoongi had sat across the table from her glaring and obstinate while ordering the most expensive dishes off the menu, but she'd loved it. Jimin knew she'd loved it, had watched her enough to know when Yoongi's complaints were a token resistance designed to deflect vulnerability.

She's splayed out on the bed now, hips propped up on a few pillows, breath hiccuping in her chest as Jimin moves. She's pulling the hem of her t-shirt over the blades of her hip bones, the plane of her lower stomach, up and over her belly button.

"Higher," Jimin says. "I wanna see your breasts."

That gets her a rude look, but it also gets her the gasp and arch as the seams drag over Yoongi's nipples. They're sensitive from walking around in that rough cotton material and she has to bite her lip to keep back a moan.

Jimin nudges Yoongi's thighs even farther apart. "I want you to play with yourself," she says. "Think you can do that for me?"

"Yeah," Yoongi says, arching her back. Cupping her breasts in her hands. Sliding her thumbs over her nipples. "Y-yeah, I, I can. Yeah."

[filthshotgun]

"Hey! Hey. Oh - oh god, I just saw what time it is--"

"It's one in the morning," Seokjin mumbled into the phone. "The time is one. In the morning. I was asleep, Namjoon."

"Shit, I'm really sorry. I - I can call back tomorrow if you... no I'm really sorry I really have to talk to you, I'm sorry, I owe you like a million cups of coffee but hyung I just. Really have to talk to you."

Seokjin heaved a huge, deep sigh and rolled over onto his back, blinking sleepily up at the ceiling. "I'll hold you to that coffee thing. What's going on?"

"I took a pregnancy test and it was positive."

"Oh," Seokjin said.

"That's interesting," Seokjin said.

"Maybe it's just a fluke," Seokjin said.

"It's not," Namjoon said, sounding absolutely miserable and unbelievably embarrassed. "I took one of the pee stick ones last week when I was sick of feeling all weird--" Seokjin winced. "--and it was positive and I figured it was just some fucked up fluke so I went to Planned Parenthood and got a blood test and--"

Seokjin sat up in bed, suddenly far more awake then he'd been a minute ago. "How far along are you?"

There was a shuffling noise on the other end of the line, like Namjoon was flipping through a stack of papers. "... Twelve weeks."

"Twelve weeks," Seokjin echoed, slumping over and resting his face in one hand. It was one in the morning and Kim Namjoon had woken him up just to let him know that he was nearly out of the first trimester of a surprise pregnancy. "Do you know who--"

"Of course I know," Namjoon stuttered, not letting him finish. "Do I really strike you as the kind of person who sleeps around a lot."

"How honest do you want me to be?"

"Shut up. I have one fuckbuddy and that's it."

"Oh god--" Seokjin squeezed his eyes shut. "Are you seriously pregnant with Hobi's child?"

"What the fuck? Hobi isn't my fuckbuddy, what the hell are you--"

"Wishful thinking," Seokjin interrupted. "I was just hoping you weren't talking about Jiho." Silence on the line. "Yep. There it is. I'm going back to bed."

"I think I'm gonna keep it, hyung."

Seokjin fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn't know what to say because he had too much to say. It stung, how much he had to say. "Why?" he said, voice hoarse in a way he tried to play off as half-asleep.

"Ultrasound." Namjoon's voice was almost as hoarse as his own. "I don't know - maybe if it was just an embryo that'd be one thing but it's got like... like ears, you know? And little hands, it's ridiculous." He laughed, and it was the one laugh he let out when he knew he was being ridiculous. "I don't know. It's stupid. I don't know."

"You don't really sound like you don't know."

"I don't want to raise it with Jiho," Namjoon said suddenly. "I mean I don't want to, like, I don't think I wanna do it alone but Jiho and I aren't even kind of in love with each other, it's really just sex, and - and he's just not really parent material, you know?"

"I know," Seokjin said matter-of-factly. "I'm glad you know that too. So what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know," Namjoon said for what felt like the thousandth time. "I don't know, hyung. It's got fingers. It's the size of a lime. I've never - I gotta take care of it," Namjoon said. "This has never been in my plan like, like at all, ever, I've never even considered it, but - it's the size of a lime, hyung."

"So have you talked to Jiho about it?" Seokjin asked, not looking up to meet Namjoon's eyes as he pulled another piece of pizza out of the box.

"Yeah," Namjoon said, folding his legs under him. It had been almost a month since that late-night phone call and Namjoon had transitioned gradually from A Little Bit Chubbier Than Usual to obviously pregnant - Seokjin had barely noticed until one day he'd swung by Namjoon's apartment unannounced, only to have Namjoon open the front door in just loose flannel pajama pants and a thin over-sized sleep shirt draping gently over the curve of his belly. "He was kind of funny about it."

Seokjin shot Namjoon a sharp look. "Funny?"

"Like he was all freaked out but also really ready to like, take responsibility and stuff?" Namjoon waved vaguely with the remains of a slice of pizza. "Then I told him I'd rather he didn't and he was all 'oh, thank god.'"

"Funny," Seokjin said again.

"Yeah," Namjoon said. "Thanks for the pizza, by the way."

"Anything for my favorite knocked up manchild."

"Ow."

"Am I wrong?"

Namjoon rolled his eyes. "I never said you were wrong."

"I mean it, though." Seokjin bit his lips together at the look on Namjoon's face. "I mean. You know. Doing this by yourself is gonna be really hard, so if you need anything I'll try to be there for you."

There was a moment of silence. Namjoon set his crust down carefully on the plate resting on his lap. "Thanks," he said.

"This was a bad idea," Namjoon was saying, sitting at the food of his bed with his elbows on his knees and his head hanging from his shoulders. "What the fuck was I thinking?"

"You were thinking that your fetus was the size of a lime," Seokjin said back, working both thumbs up either side of Namjoon's backbone. "As far as I know you weren't thinking about much else. Maybe you were in the mood for a margarita."

"I'm almost seven months pregnant and you're seriously bringing up alcohol," Namjoon said, words clipped. "I can't believe you, you're so ow ow ow ow ow no don't stop, right there, fuck--"

Seokjin tried to ignore the moans of pleasure/pain Namjoon made, back arching as he whimpered and begged for more pressure. Over the last three months Namjoon had gotten progressively whinier, asking for more and more favors, calling him more and more frequently. It's not like he minded - he'd meant it when he'd said anything - but it was a lot harder than he'd expected.

Namjoon was reaching the point where he couldn't pretend he'd just gotten chubby, even under layers of baggy clothing. Last week they'd all gone out for brunch and Jimin had stared at him for the entire meal, only finally pulling Seokjin aside when they were standing in line at the cash register. "Is that on you?" he'd asked, nodding over at where Namjoon was staring forlornly at espresso machine behind the counter.

"Namjoon's paying for himself," Seokjin had said back, and then avoided Jimin's eyes for the rest of the day.

It would have been easier, maybe, if Namjoon would just tell people. But he was nervous and he kept putting it off and now Seokjin was the only person who knew officially, which meant every single one of their damn friends was convinced that Namjoon was somehow Seokjin's side piece despite him not even having a main piece to start with.

"My hands are getting tired," Seokjin said, pulling away. (It was only half true. They'd be getting tired in a minute but mostly what Seokjin couldn't do anymore was listen to Namjoon moan and trust himself not to do anything about it.) "Can I do anything else for you?"

"Get me laid," Namjoon said - then went quiet, mouth closing so quickly that his teeth clicked together.

"What, Jiho's not pulling his weight?"

"He kept getting all emotional," Namjoon said distantly. He was still facing away. Still slumped over.

Seokjin fell back against the headboard and tried to swallow as quietly as possible. "Like he actually does want to help with the baby?"

"... I kept getting all emotional."

"... Ah. So you want him to help with the baby?"

"No, it's not that. It's just..." Namjoon trailed off. Sighed. "I don't wanna have sex with somebody who's like, they're not - like he's not gonna be involved, you know? I don't want him to be involved," he added quickly, scooting back on the mattress until he was sitting against the pillows next to Seokjin. "I just don't... I don't know."

"You say that a lot," Seokjin said.

"Say what?"

"That you don't know." Seokjin shot him a Look. "You normally do know, but you don't about anything related to the pregnancy."

Namjoon made a face. "That's a weird word."

"Oh," Seokjin said, rolling his eyes. "I'm so sorry. What, should I refer to you as brooding? Like a hen? Maybe gravid. You find your gravidity complexing."

"Hyung. Stop."

"I'm not the one who got to knock you up," Sekjin said - and it was a snap. He bit out the words like he was angry, which didn't make any sense. "Sorry, I think I'm just tired. Ignore me."

"What do you mean 'got to'?"

When Seokjin looked up he expected to see Namjoon looking right back at him but instead his eyes were downturned, watching his fingers play idly with the pattern on his quilt. He looked a little blank but mostly he looked pink.

"We'd make a pretty cute baby," Seokjin said after a second. "You gotta admit. That kid would end up super gorgeous."

"Jiho's not bad to look at."

"I wouldn't know," Seokjin said, turning away. "I've never fucked him."

Silence for a bit. Namjoon didn't seem to move, and Seokjin started wondering if maybe he'd just dozed off.

"You gotta promise to forgive me," Namjoon said, shifting his weight.

Seokjin had only just started to say, "forgive you for what?" when Namjoon tipped over and kissed him gently at the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry," Namjoon said, looking stricken. "Sorry, that was a bad idea, I'm really sorry--"

"I wish you were pregnant with my baby," Seokjin blurted out, and when Namjoon moaned and climbed into his lap to straddle his hips he didn't do a single thing to stop it.

"It's yours if you want it," Namjoon said.

"I want it," Seokjin said.

[filthshotgun]

"Okay, look," Jeongguk says, flipping through What To Expect When You're Expecting to find what he was looking for before finally finding the right page and shoving it over so Jimin could see it. "Morning sickness is supposed to drastically decline in the second trimester."

"I'm going to punch you in the dick," Jimin says, voice reverberating hollowly in the toilet bowl, "if you don't shut the fuck up right now."

"It says it right--"

"Jeon Jeongguk!" Jimin pushes himself up off the toilet, eyes watering and cheeks practically green. "I swear to god, I swear to fucking god, I am fully fucking aware that all the books say I shouldn't be constantly vomiting my guts out by now but I still am and you are not the only one who's unhappy about it!"

Jeongguk bites his lips together and quietly closes the book. "So you're... um... still nauseated?"

Jimin groans. "I don't think I've got anything left to throw up. Gimme a minute."

"How's your back?"

"A war zone."

"I can rub it for you if you want."

Jimin lets out a high keening noise as he struggles to his feet. "I'm not gonna punch you in the dick anymore. Please god rub my back."

There are a few things to do before they can leave the bathroom (Jimin brushing his teeth, flushing the toilet, etc) but it's only a couple minutes before Jimin is crawling up onto their king size bed and slumping over uselessly. It's been a month or two since he could really lie flat on his stomach, but the hormones have made his hips even more flexible (if such a thing is even possible) so instead of lying down he folds his legs under him, spreads his knees, and leans forward.

Jeongguk feels like it's kind of inappropriate to pop a boner after Jimin's just spent the last ten minutes heaving in the bathroom, but also, fuck. Just... fuck. Jimin's always been hot and always will be hot but there's just something about this, the way he's a little bit helpless and sort of whiny and everyone who sees him knows he belongs to Jeongguk.

It's worse when Jeongguk smooths his thumbs up Jimin's back on either side of his spine and Jimin honest to god moans. It's a straight up sex moan, he sounds the same as he does when Jeongguk's eating him out, or working him open with his fingers, or sucking him off slow and gentle to get him as pliant as possible before fucking him into submission.

Maybe don't think about fucking him into submission while rubbing his back. That's just rude.

Jimin gasps out a noise even more sexual as Jeongguk moves up his back, says, "god, Jeongguk, harder," and things are indeed getting harder in all kinds of ways. Jeongguk had fallen in love with Jimin the short, lean, well-muscled dancer who sounded and looked almost exactly like sex - and yeah, getting pregnant was a joint decision that was agreed on by all parties, but Jeongguk hadn't expected it to be quite like this.

("Quite like what?" Taehyung had asked at the bar last Friday, when he and Jeongguk had stopped in for a beer after an incredibly long week at work.

"I don't know," Jeongguk had lied.)

The problem had finally become obvious right around the time Jimin started showing, belly popping out and forcing him out of his old jeans and into maternity leggings. It hadn't started as a particularly big problem but it had grown in tandeom with Jimin. The problem is this: Jeongguk wants to fuck Jimin absolutely stupid when he's pregnant. Jimin isn't lean at all anymore, small hands just starting to swell a little when he sleeps, belly expanding almost noticeably every damn day. Jeongguk had quietly been a little bit worried that he wouldn't find Jimin attractive for nine whole months, but instead the opposite has turned out to be true.

"I can feel your dick," Jimin sighs, laughing a little as his words are muffled by the quilt. "You're insatiable."

"And you," Jeongguk says, voice rough, "are fucking gorgeous."

Jimin straightens. Shrugs him off. Rolls over awkwardly so that he's half lying, half sitting against the pillows. "Y'know, I never would have pegged you as having a pregnancy kink."

Jeongguk tries not to laugh but he does anyway as he creeps up the bed. "Surprise? It's not my fault you're so goddamn fuckable."

"It's half your fault," Jimin says, then gasps as Jeongguk inches up between his legs, ducking down to nip at his throat. "This was kind of - ah - it was a joint venture. J-jeongguk--"

"We don't have to," Jeongguk groans against Jimin's skin. "You're just--"

"We have to," Jimin interrupts, fumbling with the hem of Jeongguk's white t-shirt to jerk it desperately up and over Jeongguk's head. "I need you."

[filthshotgun]

"Hyung we're gonna get caught--"

"Maybe," Taehyung said, wrapping his arms around Jeongguk's waist and curving in to nip him on the helix of his ear. "If you don't wanna--"

"Of course I wanna," Jeongguk sputtered, and staggered a little with the added mass and weight of his older, taller boyfriend clinging to him like a fully erect koala. (Wait. No. That sounds terrible.) "I just, like - if we get caught--"

"Then we'll die as we lived," Taehyung interrupted happily, bending around Jeongguk to scramble for the doorknob, "fucking the hell out of each other."

"That's not how we live."

"Hope springs eternal?" Tae kicked the door closed behind them with one heel, pulling Jeongguk in even tighter. His cock was at least four layers of clothing away from Jeongguk's skin, but somehow it still contrived to rub in between the cheeks of his ass. "I'll arrange to have our obituaries filled with revisionist history. Kim Taehyung," he said in his best news announcer voice, "lived in a cave and fucked Jeon Jeongguk ten thousand times a day, was an anomaly and should not be--"

"Hyung..."

“Dongsaeng,” Taehyung growled, voice deep in his chest and gravel in his throat as he gripped Jeongguk tight over the back of his neck, jerking his head back so when Taehyung spoke it was in low, rough tones against the soft, thin skin just under the curve of his jaw. “Do you want me to fuck you or not? Y’gotta tell me what you really want if you’re gonna act all hard to get.”

The air caught in Jeongguk’s throat. “Yeah,” he groaned, grinding his ass back hard against Taehyung’s dick. “Y-yeah, I want you to fuck me.”

“Here? Now?”

They might get caught. There wasn’t a lock on the door and while most of the cast and crew had gone home it might not have been all of them, and god knew what would happen if they were heard? Well, okay - they’d probably get kicked out of the university drama club, for starters.

They might get caught but they also might not be and the greenroom was dimly lit and quiet and Taehyung’s teeth were scraping down the artery in his throat and Jeongguk was aching (aching) to be filled up and destroyed.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk said again. “Here. Now. Hyung, please--”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute in your punk kid uniform,” Taehyung mumbled against the skin of Jeongguk’s throat. “You even got the plaid flannel shirt tied around your waist and everything. It’s awesome.”

“I’m not a punk, I’m just--”

“You’re a punk.” Taehyung pushed forward to bump Jeongguk off balance with his knees, nudging him forward by the backs of his legs. Jeongguk stumbled a little and landed knees down against the cushions of the old ratty couch that seemed to live in every greenroom the world over, Taehyung still holding his neck back. “S’not a bad thing. You’re cute. Makes me want to bend you over a table and fuck you while you still got those worn-out chucks on.”

“Hyung--”

Taehyung shoved him down so that he had to catch himself against the back of the couch with both hands. “You’re adorable,” he said, low voice soft and crooning as he rolled his hips forward against Jeongguk’s ass. “I wanna take your clothes off one by one. I wanna unwrap you like a present.” He pulled Jeongguk’s shirt up his back with his fingertips hooked under the hem, fingernails dragging slowly against the skin like it was an accident. “Y’look all tough, but you know what?”

“What?” Jeongguk arched up against Taehyung’s touch. “What do I know?”

“You’ve got a soft--” A kiss on his spine. “--gooey--” A kiss just a little farther up. “--center.” A kiss just under the base of his neck, and then Taehyung was pulling the collar up by his teeth as he scrambled to take Jeongguk’s shirt off. “I like the tough, but I think I like the soft gooey center more. It tastes better.”

“I don’t think - f-fuck--” Taehyung’s fingers slipped under the waistband of his jeans, under the elastic of Jeongguk’s boxer briefs, down and down and down and--

“Did you seriously--” Taehyung broke off, letting out a quick huff of smug laughter as his fingertips swirled through the lube Jeongguk had used to work himself open earlier. (In the bathroom, pressed up against the wall of the cubicle with the fingers of one hand clinging to the hook for balance and the fingers of the other sunk in deep as he struggled to neither moan nor come.) “You’re so fucking needy, you stretched yourself without me?

Jeongguk opened his mouth to speak but choked on his breath instead as Taehyung slipped two fingers inside of him, curving to massage him slowly, insistently. Taehyung’s fingers were thick and long and delicate, touching him gently and slowly and deep, god, it was so deep and still not deep enough.

“Hyung,” he gasped out, rocking his hips back, “hyung, please.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung moaned, pulled Jeongguk up by his waist to nip at his throat. “Fuck, Guk-ah--”

Jeongguk fumbled desperately at the fly of his jeans, finally unzipping them so Taehyung could help jerk them down along with his boxer briefs, pushing them down together in a single movement. Jeongguk was so hard his cock caught in the elastic at the same time as Taehyung dipped his hand down again to push two fingertips into him.

It was almost curious, experimental, careful - like he was trying not to spook a prey animal or something - and it wasn’t enough. Jeongguk fucked himself back onto Taehyung’s hand and whined as the pads of Taehyung’s fingers brushed over his prostate. “You’re so impatient.” Taehyung’s voice was thick as he pulled his hand out and away, struggling with his jeans. “You really want this, huh?”

“I need it,” Jeongguk gasped. A rustle of fabric and the thick head of Taehyung’s cock was slipping against him, catching the lube and smoothing easily over the flesh. “I need it, I - I need you, I prepped for you because I needed you so fucking bad.”

“I noticed.” Taehyung nuzzled at his neck and god, he was moving his cock so that it spiraled slowly around where Jeongguk needed it. “You’re so fuckin’ good. My little nervous punk boy. You still think we might get caught?”

“M-maybe,” Jeongguk gasped, arching to push his hips back. “Maybe, I dunno, maybe somebody’s still--”

“We can find out if there’s anyone still here. I just have to make you scream. Anybody in the theatre would come running.”

“Hyung!”

Taehyung laughed, deep and hoarse and hungry against Jeongguk’s ear. “You don’t want me to? How about we make it a competition? Y’wanna try that?”

“I bet you can’t,” Jeongguk gasped, rocked back along Taehyung’s cock, try to get it where he needed it. “Bet you can’t make me scream.”

Taehyung groaned. Nipped at his earlobe. Wrapped one long arm around his chest to keep him pinned and used his free hand to steady the base of his cock. “Bet I can,” he said.

He almost won within five seconds, pushing into Jeongguk slowly, so slowly Jeongguk could have fucking cried. It didn’t matter how well Jeongguk prepared himself: what toys he used, how many fingers he fit in, the type of lube he had on hand. It never mattered because Taehyung’s first thrust always, always stung with the girth and weight of his dick.

The arm around his chest tightened as Taehyung’s thrusts sped up, the fist loosely stroking his dick quickened to match the rhythm. Jeongguk could only ride it, clinging to Taehyung’s arm around his shoulders to try to keep his balance as well as he could under the constant onslaught.

“Y’gotta breathe, baby.” Taehyung’s words came out clipped, chopped up, each hard rut punching the breath out of him. “Even if you’re not gonna scream, you still gotta breathe.”

“No,” Jeongguk whined, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he could as the ridge of Taehyung’s dick dragged over his prostate, as Taehyung’s hand moved gently down to cup him almost protectively. “N-no, if I breathe I’ll just - o-oh my god, hyung--”

Taehyung pulled back so much he was almost out entirely - then pushed in again hard, blowing the breath out of Jeongguk one moment and forcing him to suck in a deep breath the next. He tried to hold it for all of half a second before Taehyung was slamming deep into him again, hand tightening over Jeongguk’s cock. He tried to hold it but it was too much and the next thrust had him crying out, knees nearly buckling as Taehyung fucked hard up into him. “H-- Tae, Tae, fuck, oh my god, please I - I can’t last like this please please please--”

“You’re doing so good,” Taehyung hissed into his throat, jerking him hard. “You’re doing so fucking good. Wanna feel you come around my cock, baby boy.”

Jeongguk moaned, the breath hiccuping in his throat. “I can’t,” he choked. “I c-can’t, I can’t keep quiet--”

Taehyung choked a little in the back of his throat and shifted his grip, pushing the meat of his thumb into Jeongguk’s mouth. “I know you don’t wanna get caught,” he groaned, voice rough and ruined. “Bite down on this and just fuckin’ come for me, baby.”

The scream gaining traction in his lungs felt like fire behind Taehyung’s palm and Jeongguk fought for breath, mewling desperately as Taehyung redoubled his efforts - fucking him hard, jerking him hard, biting down hard onto his shoulder--

Taehyung’s hand was almost good enough to muffle the sound Jeongguk let out when he came, crying and sobbing as he rutted helplessly into Taehyung’s hand, as Taehyung fucked him through it as he pulsed and throbbed and tried to breathe. “Fuck,” Taehyung moaned, stuttered, choked out. “F-fuck - come for me like that, baby boy - shit, shit I’m--”

Jeongguk whimpered as Taehyung pulled out, slammed in, thrust into him hard and rough with the force of his orgasm. Jeongguk was coming down from his own high and he was so - he was so fucking sensitive and aching and sore and Taehyung was fucking him through it, spilling cum deep inside him, dragging thick muffled cries out of his lungs.

Jeongguk’s knees had started buckling as he came but the force of Taehyung’s orgasm rocked him so off balance that he had to cling to Taehyung to keep from tumbling to the floor. Taehyung moaned against the back of his neck, hips stuttering as his orgasm started to cool. “You’re so fucking good, baby.” Taehyung nuzzled his shoulder, still sliding slowly in and out of Jeongguk’s ass. “You liked it?”

He opened his mouth to speak - but let out a whimper instead as Taehyung pulled out, tugged his boxers back up over his ass, moved him gently around so they could tip gently onto the couch alongside each other. “Yeah,” Jeongguk breathed, slinging one arm over Taehyung’s shoulders. “Yeah, that - that was really, really good. Thanks.”

“If you’re happy I’m happy.” Taehyung curled into him, voice wrecked and deep with the remnants of exertion and climax. Jeongguk pulled him close. Felt Taehyung’s breath on his throat. “Y’smell good.”

“I smell like you.”

“I smell good.”

Jeongguk laughed - tried to laugh, really, the air coming out of him in creaks and gasps - and bapped Taehyung weakly on the shoulder. “You do smell good. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Taehyung murmured, breathing soft kisses along the line of Jeongguk’s collar bones. “Now cuddle me.”

[filthshotgun]

they're in the sunflowers.

the blooms tower overhead but still let in the sun as they walk through the stalks, lupe pulling ruth along in the thick warm quiet. it smells like green out here, light green, life green, crisp. the only sounds are their footsteps, and the sunflowers rustling and creaking of the sunflowers in the wind.

ruth's hand is cool. her palms are rough, calloused - but what she lacks in fragility she makes up for in the gentle curve of her fingers. the way she touches things carefully, almost as though she doesn't think she deserves to touch them at all.

her hand is cool but her mouth is hot, and when lupe comes up short and pulls her in the sound she makes is thick with need and relief. it's not hard to push her down, pull her down - ruth is the one who's been needing this the most and so she lets herself fall, (to the leaf-covered ground between the flowers), gasping as lupe pins her down and kisses her.

when she says careful it's in a strangled voice, arching up as lupe mouths at her neck and struggles to open the buttons down the front of her shirt, but lupe is careful. she's always careful, deft hands doing what needs done, and now is no exception as ruth's shirt falls open and lupe's mouth slips down from ruth's throat to the swell of her breasts. she's always careful, slipping her fingertips under the soft pink lace of ruth's bra to tug the fabric cups downward.

it's the sound ruth makes that tips lupe off that this is exactly what she needed. she'd already decided to take things slow and drag it out and tease the living hell out of ruth, but when ruth moaned and rolled up and rocked her hips desperately against her thigh that was it.

ruth's breasts smell amazing, like milk and honey and something darker, too, (unfiltered maple syrup maybe, thick and woody and almost smoked); lupe drags the flat of her tongue slowly (slowly slowly) up from the edge of the lace over ruth's nipple to taste the salt and the sweet she knew she'd find there. the day's been hot and lupe can smell just how aroused ruth really is and it almost hurts - god, it hurts--

"i'm going to make you come," lupe groans, voice muffled by the soft plush of ruth's breasts. struggling with the fly of ruth's jeans (new, the denim creaking and stiff). "i'm going to make you come as many times as i can."

the noise ruth makes in response sounds like maybe orgasm #1 is already close at hand.

[filthshotgun]

"Is it recording?"

"Yeh, look - the little red light's blinking, it's recording--"

The screen's dark for a second before Taehyung's hand shifts away from the lens and Jeongguk can actually see what's going on. The camera's set up in the living room, facing the couch where Yoongi's sitting - slouched over a little like he usually is, legs folded under him and fingers laced together in his lap. He looks curious, in a sleepy sort of way... but then Yoongi usually looks sleepy so that's pretty much par for the course.

Taehyung shuffles back into view to stand next to the couch, where he waves awkwardly at the camera and clears his throat. "Um so, okay--" He coughs. "Jeongguk's birthday present, starring Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung, take one."

"We're only doing one take," Yoongi says. His voice is a little muffled by Taehyung's body between him and the mic, but Jeongguk can understand him just fine even through the shitty laptop speakers.

(Actually, come to think of it, maybe he should plug in a pair of headphones.)

"What if we fuck up, though?"

"That's kinda the point." Yoongi stands up, the soft green-blue of his skin reflecting the afternoon light, his little sensory antennae retracting a little like they do when he's nervous. He moves slowly, thoughtfully, reaching out to gently nudge Taehyung around to face him. "I, um--"

Taehyung laughs, (in the way he has - genuinely affectionate, delighted, non-judgmental), leaning forward to kiss Yoongi on the tip of his nose. "I'm gonna take off your pants, okay?"

The flush that blooms in Yoongi's cheeks is a dark, embarrassed turquoise. Jeongguk knows that in real life it's even more vibrant than it is on this low quality video recording and god, he misses it. Yoongi blushes whenever somebody says something even slightly suggestive, including in bed when Yoongi has someone's actual dick in his actual mouth.

"Okay," Yoongi says, low voice catching a little in his throat as Taehyung pulls him closer by his belt loops. Taehyung's hands are broad and tan against Yoongi's white shirt and when the button comes free he moves to push the jeans down with one hand while dragging the other gently up over Yoongi's waist. "Tae--"

"This is a present," Taehyung says. He sounds a little bit hoarse already, and his hand on Yoongi's soft waist tightens. "Don't hold back. We have to make sure he can hear you."

The hotel bed is too big and too cold and too empty but at least he's got the room to himself. His phone had dinged at him with a new email while he was in the shower and so he'd been in just a bathrobe when he flipped his laptop open, and now Yoongi's pulling Taehyung's t-shirt off over his head onscreen and Jeongguk's cock is asking for attention.

When Yoongi shoves Taehyung back down onto the couch cushions only Taehyung's shirt is missing - he's still wearing those loose jeans, boxer brief waistband peeking over the top. Yoongi's still wearing his t-shirt (thin, white, over-sized because he hates having his arms restricted) but Taehyung had made quick work of his pants so when Yoongi moans, straddles Taehyung on the couch, curves over to kiss him--

The camera's angled so that Jeongguk can't quite see everything, but he can still see how Yoongi's so slick he's glistening with it. His ass is in the air and Taehyung's hands are cupping the backs of his thighs, massaging the soft, pliant flesh as Yoongi kisses him. His hands creep up Yoongi's legs. Curve in, long fingers knowing what to do by muscle memory.

Yoongi doesn't really need to be worked open like Taehyung and Jeongguk do, (one of those benefits that don't really come up in a comparative anatomy course), but it's become part of the routine anyway. Jeongguk loves it, pushing his fingers into Yoongi, lubricant running down his hand as he moves. Taehyung loves it, loves spreading Yoongi as wide as he'll go and teasing him so much he's panting and crying before he gets what he needs. Yoongi especially loves it, ("What was that?" he'd breathed, one of the first nights they'd done anything, "when you... your hand, right, and then--"), even though sometimes he acts like he doesn't like anything.

Taehyung pushes in two fingers and Yoongi arches, grinding back onto Taehyung's hands as he moans. When he pulls back like that Jeongguk can just barely see the line of his cock, erect and stiff enough that his t-shirt drapes over it, and all Jeongguk wants is to be right there in the room with them so he can see everything.

Yoongi's moans turn into groans, his groans turn into strangled cries, his strangled cries turn into something that sounds almost like sobs as Taehyung sucks lilac bruises into his throat. Just the sound of Taehyung fingering Yoongi is obscene enough on its own even without Yoongi making any noise at all, but he's making a lot of noise and Jeongguk can't hold off. Getting the knot of his bathrobe undone takes longer than it should; Yoongi is struggling with Taehyung's jeans by the time Jeongguk gets the robe open.

"You gotta get up," Taehyung moans, voice cracking in the speakers. "If you wanna take my pants off, you have to--"

"Just down," Yoongi says. He leans back a little to yank Tae's jeans off his hips a few inches, then another few inches, then another, until Taehyung's cock is smearing precum on the plane of his lower stomach. "Too impatient."

"Fuck," Jeongguk breathes out. Jeongguk's trying to go slow, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the head of his dick, but the way Yoongi looks when he's steadying Taehyung's cock and sinking down--

The sound Yoongi makes as he slides down the length of Taehyung's dick is strangled and broken like it always is. He's elastic, not loose, and Jeongguk knows from personal experience just how tight and wet it is to fuck Yoongi. How much Yoongi cries out, scrambling and desperate for more. The way Yoongi's muscles clench and roll and shift as his body tries to adapt.

"Y'okay?" Taehyung says. Yoongi's finally flush against Taehyung's hips, bending forward to breathe weakly against his shoulder. "This good?"

"You're so - s-so hot," Yoongi moans, voice tight in his throat. He means it literally - two warm-blooded partners and one cold-blooded means that every time they fuck it's temperature play of a sort. "Gimme a second, I'm - yeah, this is good--"

"Y'want me to fuck you?"

"Y-yeah," Yoongi whines, and Jeongguk can't help but let out a tight moan in response to the keening arousal in Yoongi's voice. "Fuck me, Tae, please--"

Taehyung lifts Yoongi, both big hands on his ass (canting his hips forward so that Jeongguk can see the way Taehyung's cock looks dragging against Yoongi's slick hole), and at first each slide is slow as Yoongi mewls and shudders with the pressure. At first each slide is slow, but Taehyung speeds up gradually as Yoongi rolls with the rhythm - letting out progressively louder and louder moans as the pace increases.

"I - I learned a new word," Yoongi gasps out. (His hands are gripping so tight on Taehyung's shoulders that his knuckles are nearly white.)

"Oh," Taehyung groans in response. "Yeah, that's - fuck--"

Yoongi leans forward, and even from the viewpoint of the camera Jeongguk can see the flushed, wicked look on his face. "Oppa," he says.

Taehyung's hips stutter and Jeongguk chokes at the same time, gripping tight onto the base of his dick to keep his orgasm at bay. It had taken Yoongi a little time to get used to human civilization, to language that involved speech rather than subtle sighs and hue shifts, but he's been sly for months now. Telling jokes. Playing tricks on them. Lying like a pro. And, apparently, picking up on all of Taehyung's little secret kinks.

"Oppa," Yoongi's saying on the screen, rolling his hips slow. He's got Taehyung's jaw cradled in both hands, thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones. He curves in to slip a wet kiss into Taehyung's mouth as he fucks himself down onto Taehyung's cock. "You like that? Oppa?"

"Fuck," Taehyung moans, eyes fluttering closed. (His lips are shining from Yoongi's kiss, and Jeongguk can't help but think about Taehyung's mouth on his dick.) "Yoongi, Yoongi fuck--"

There are only a few seconds left until Jeongguk's orgasm - he can feel it curling tight in the pit of his stomach - and if the lilac flush of Yoongi's thin, perfectly smooth skin is any indication the same is true for him too. The sounds get wetter and more obscene. Yoongi opens his mouth to speak but Taehyung thrusts hard up into him and forces a wrecked cry out of his lungs.

It's Jeongguk's favorite, getting off at the same time as Yoongi. When they let go and shudder together, Yoongi swearing and sobbing and Jeongguk moaning so loud that he shoves his fist into his mouth to keep his next door neighbor from calling the reception desk with a noise complaint.

When Yoongi comes every muscle in his body tenses and flexes and rolls and releases; if you're fucking him it's like being on a goddamn sex rollercoaster, and Taehyung lasts an admirable 2.5 seconds before he's choking out a gasping moan and thrusting arrhythmically up into Yoongi.

All three of them take time to come down from the high - Yoongi splayed out over Taehyung's tan chest with his eyes closed and his mouth open, panting; Taehyung with his head tipped back against the couch cushions as he sweats and gasps; Jeongguk shuddering as the aftershocks roll through him.

"Did we get it?" Yoongi says. Jeongguk barely sees his mouth move.

"One shot," Taehyung manages in response. "One take." He picks his head up and stares straight into the camera, giving Jeongguk a long distance wink. "Happy birthday, baby. Come home soon."

[filthshotgun]

Kyungsoo peels the wrapper off the popsicle slowly. Carefully. Folding the ends under the fingers holding onto the stick before carefully licking whatever melted melona is left on his free hand.

Chanyeol’s been trying to ignore it. It’s stupid because Kyungsoo is his friend, (Kyungsoo isn’t his friend - he’s not doing any of this as a favor), Kyungsoo’s working, Kyungsoo’s out of his league. Kyungsoo is sitting on Chanyeol’s kitchen counter, face lit up only by the ancient amber of the streetlights outside the window, eating a melon popsicle almost as studiously as one might paint a masterpiece.

He has to bite it, right? If there’s any justice in the universe Kyungsoo bites his popsicles, especially the long ones, the ones he wraps those lips around to suck the ice from the edges—

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t bite it. He sucks it, (because of course he sucks it), melted ice cream shining on his lips and making him look for all the world like utter sin in the shape of a person. Chanyeol tightens his grip on the counter behind him and tries not to pay attention, even when Kyungsoo pulls the popsicle out of his mouth with a hollow pop and proceeds to clean the little drips of melted popsicle running down the sides with tiny little kitten licks.

There’s a second where Chanyeol thinks that maybe Kyungsoo doesn’t know. He might not know how he looks when he sucks at the tip of the popsicle. He might not know how he looks when he cleans the sides with his tongue, quick licks interspersed with long drags along the length. He might not know, right? It’s possible that he doesn’t know - but then Chanyeol remembers that this is Kyungsoo’s job. This is how he makes a living. Even if he doesn’t think consciously about it he’s probably practiced this in the mirror god knows how many times (calm down, Chanyeol) and now it’s just habit that makes his eyes flutter shut, pulls that little sigh from his lungs.

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol hears himself say. “I know you’ve probably got places to be. If you don’t want to stick around—”

“You kicking me out?” Kyungsoo’s eyes flicker up for a second, (pinning Chanyeol in place like a butterfly in a shadowbox), expressionless and slow as he licks his lips. “At least lemme finish the popsicle.”

“No,” Chanyeol says quickly. Too quickly, maybe. “I’m not kicking you out, you can hang out as long as you want, I just wanted to make sure that it’s okay - y’know - if you wanted to head out. Or whatever. You can sleep here if you want,” he added, “it’s really not that I’m kicking you out. Promise. Cross my heart.”

“So you want me to sleep over.” Kyungsoo leans back easily, propping up his weight on one hand as he slowly slides the popsicle in and then out of his mouth. “Do you really think I put out that easy?”

“No,” Chanyeol says, letting go of the counter before having to hold himself back from taking a step forward. “That’s not what I—”

“I’m just fucking with you,” Kyungsoo interrupts, laughing quietly around the popsicle. He bites it, finally, and Chanyeol can’t decide whether it’s a blessing or a curse. “I know what you mean. That’s cool of you, but I should probably sleep in my own bed or whatever.”

“I can drive you home.”

“It’s only nine.”

“I didn’t necessarily mean now...”

“You’re weird sometimes,” Kyungsoo says, sucking the last centimeter of popsicle off of the stick. “You know that? It’s kinda cute, but I don’t know why.” The popsicle stick goes in the trash and he’s licking the residue of it off his fingers. “It’s like you’re a worried puppy or something, but I can’t figure why you’re so nervous.”

“Because of you, usually.” Chanyeol laughs and shrugs and hates himself. “You’re kinda intimidating sometimes.”

Kyungsoo glares at him. “Are you shitting me? I’m like half your height—”

“You’re maybe six inches shorter than me.”

“—and half your weight—”

“Hey!”

“—and you could probably pick me up and throw me over your shoulder and—” Kyungsoo hesitates. “Or whatever. Point is, you being intimidated by me is incredibly stupid and you should get over it as soon as possible.”

“You’ve got a glare that could boil rocks,” Chanyeol counters. “Sometimes I can’t figure out if you’re going to kill me or kiss me.”

Kyungsoo cocked his head in a quick gesture of acknowledgment. “Yeah. I guess that’s fair. You could probably still crush me, though.”

“You’re assuming I want to.”

“Am not.” Kyungsoo tips forward a little, both hands holding onto the edge of the counter. He’s out of the light streaming in the kitchen window from the nighttime street, but still somehow Chanyeol can see his eyes in the dark. “You’re still a worried puppy. Harmless.”

Chanyeol pushes off of the counter without thinking about it, steps forward without realizing it, crowds up into Kyungsoo’s personal space and looms over him a little, one hand on the cabinet door behind Kyungsoo’s head. “Harmless?”

The look on Kyungsoo’s face, angled upward in the dark - it’s not fear. It’s darker than fear, something that makes him wet his lips and suck in a quick breath and lean back just slightly. “Relatively speaking,” he says, voice a little bit tighter than Chanyeol’s heard before. “I’m not scared of you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He knows he shouldn’t but he leans forward a little more, so that their faces are closer still. (Chanyeol can feel Kyungsoo’s breath on his throat, sweet and chilled from the popsicle.) “Not even a little?”

“No,” Kyungsoo says, but it’s more a breath than it’s really a word. “I’m not scared of you. Not even a little.”

“Your voice is shaking,” Chanyeol says.

“You’re an asshole,” Kyungsoo says.

“But you’re not scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Kyungsoo whispers. “Not even a little, and I can’t figure out why.” And then he pushes up. Forward.

It’s slow and gentle and timed so that Chanyeol can pull away but he doesn’t, he can’t, his breath is stuck in his chest and he’s so close to Kyungsoo he can smell something that reminds him of cedar, maybe something closer to fir, but whatever it is it’s thick and light at the same time, relaxing and tense and perfect.

“Good,” Chanyeol says. “I’m glad you’re not scared of me.”

When Kyungsoo kisses him (or is it that he kisses Kyungsoo?) it’s soft. Careful. Hell, it’d be almost chaste if not for the way Kyungsoo moans in the back of his throat (so quietly that it’s nearly silent) when their lips meet.

Chanyeol opens his mouth - to apologize, to make some kind of excuse, to ask Kyungsoo to please please please stay the night - but Kyungsoo’s lips part at the same time and their breaths tangle together and it’s too late, it’s too fucking late, Kyungsoo’s already reaching up to slide both hands over the back of his neck. Spreading his knees a little farther apart so that Chanyeol can slip in between his legs. Letting out another goddamn moan in the back of his throat as Chanyeol breaks down and bites his lower lip.

It’s been ages since Chanyeol’s kissed anyone (a real kiss, not a quick closed-mouth peck that felt more like obligation than affection) but Kyungsoo’s so goddamn easy to kiss that it feels almost like Chanyeol’s been kissing him for years. His lips are soft and smooth and still a little bit cold, still a little bit sweet. His tongue is cautious. When Chanyeol licks into his mouth he catches it, sucks lightly on the tip of Chanyeol’s tongue for just a second before letting it go.

He’s pretty sure he’s dreaming when Kyungsoo cants forward, one hand dragging down his chest, his stomach, palming his dick through his jeans. He’s hard, heart beat pulsing, and there’s no way this is real life - but Kyungsoo moans into his mouth again and Chanyeol’s knocked out of dreamspace and forced to accept that this is reality. This is reality, and Kyungsoo is stroking up and down the length in a slow, maddening rhythm.

[filthshotgun]

An unexpected benefit of going shopping for jeans with one's boyfriend, (Kyungsoo thought to himself dazedly in the deepest, darkest recesses of his head), was that one's dick has already spent quite some time being quietly stimulated, and so, when one's boyfriend sneaks into the changing room with one and drops on his knees in order to mouth desperately at one's dick through the thin fabric of one's boxer briefs, it really doesn't take much work at all in order to orgasm hard in a way that leaves glistening drops of cum on Park Chanyeol's wicked face.

epilogue: "That's the third store we've been banned from, we've got to stop this changing room blowjob shit."

sexy version:

It's intoxicating, the way Kyungsoo screws his eyes shut, bites his lower lip, clings to the hooks and arches up off the changing room partition, rutting as gently as he does mindlessly into Chanyeol's mouth; when he comes his efforts count for nothing because he can't keep back that hot, strangled moan (the moan that sounds like Chanyeol's name) as he surrenders to the heat and the wet and the intensity of Chanyeol’s mouth.