xxwhiskeyxx - Tumblr blog

xxwhiskeyxx · 1 day ago

Text

where want becomes wordless

The den hums with music and heat. Rain dances like sin, Dew whispers like fire, and Phantom watches from the shadows, aching and uncertain. But want has a gravity all it's own, and what starts with a drink becomes a ritual, pinned between sea and fire, until they're completely undone.

aka: baby's first body shot, 6.903 words of phantom getting wrecked on no one even takes their pants off

tags/warnings: soft exhibitionism/voyeurism, power exchange, heavy on the praise kink, sensoryoverload, love bites, pre-threesome, big triad energy, dancing is foreplay now, sweet shy phantom, grinding, dirty talk, alcohol, body shots, we worship each other here okay, dew is the menace of all time

they/them phantom with folds mentioned once

a/n: i may already be working on the continuation, if it's wanted. enjoy

AO3

The den is dim, soft lights glimmering against Rain’s skin. His own glow flickers to the music’s heavy rhythm - a current winding just beneath the surface. The beat pulses through the room, low and sultry, like something primal beneath the floorboards. It’s the kind of sound someone feels before they hear; a slow, rolling thrum.

The air is thick with heat and motion. Sweat, incense, and the ghost of something floral curl in the space between bodies. Shadows slip and swirl across the walls. Ghouls and Siblings drift close, then pull apart again, dancing in loops and half-formed patterns that never quite settle.

Rain dances between Swiss and Aurora, caught in a shared current. Aurora’s laughter bubbles just behind him, her small frame a flash of sharp hips and clever footwork. Swiss looms on the other side, fluid despite his size, matching Rain’s rhythm with slow, heavy ease that makes everything feel a little deeper.

But Rain’s in his own orbit.

His shirt clings and shifts with each motion, sweat blooming faintly where fabric kisses skin. He lifts a hand, dragging it over his chest, fingers wide - up across his shoulder and neck, tipping his head back into the touch. His eyes close. A small, unguarded smile flickers across his lips.

The hem of his shirt rises as he turns, flashing a sliver of stomach - that soft, luminous skin above his waistband. He rolls his hips through the beat, fluid and fearless, motion rippling through his ribs and into his spine.

Rain sinks deeper into the rhythm, the music humming in his chest, vibrating in time with his breath. He moves through it, not to it; hips rolling, arms sweeping above his head, sweat gleaming at the hollow of his throat.

Aurora spins away, laughter trailing like wind. Swiss shifts with her, leaving Rain briefly alone at the center of the floor.

He doesn’t notice.

Or maybe he does - and just doesn’t care.

He stretches, full-bodied and open, like a cat in sunlight. His head tips back, throat exposed, hair clinging to his jaw in damp strands. He rolls his shoulders, dragging his hands down his sides in time with the beat, fingers catching in the hem of his shirt - lifting, twisting, baring more skin.

And the light loves him for it.

It halos along his ribs, slips over the soft curve of his belly, glints on the sweat at his sternum and the ridges of his gill slits. Nothing about it is practiced; nothing performed.

He moves like a secret kept for too long - like he was made to feel.

From a couch near the edge of the room, Phantom watches.

They sit tucked in the corner, knees drawn close, fingers curled around an untouched drink. The music rolls through them - too loud to ignore, too low to hide from - and every bass pulse flutters in their chest. The den breathes heat and motion. Ghouls drift across the floor like smoke, laughter rising, bodies brushing. It’s beautiful - almost too much, if Phantom is honest.

But Rain -

Rain is something else entirely.

Phantom can’t look away. Their gaze tracks the twist of his hips, the shirt riding higher, the shimmer of sweat along his throat. Each time Rain moves, the room seems to bend toward him. Like he’s not dancing in the music, but summoning it.

Phantom swallows hard - chest tight, breath gone shallow.

They want, but don’t yet know how to reach for it.

A hand settles gently on their shoulder, and Phantom startles.

“Easy,” a warm, amused voice soothes from behind.

Dewdrop.

He rounds the couch and drops beside them, forearm draped casually along the back, gaze not yet following theirs. “Didn’t mean to spook you.”

Phantom shakes their head, wordless.

Dew hums. “So…who’s got you staring like that?” He scans the room theatrically. “Aurora? She’s a twirling menace type. Or - oh, don’t tell me - it’s Swiss, isn’t it? All that broad-shouldered broodiness?”

Phantom blinks, mouth parting to respond, but no sound comes.

Dew’s grin widens. “I’m teasing,” he murmurs. “I know exactly who you’re watching.” His gaze lands on Rain: still dancing, still radiant.

“You’ve got good taste,” he says, impressed.

Phantom doesn’t answer.

Their eyes stay locked on Rain: the roll of his hips, the sway of his spine, the soft arch of his neck. Each motion tightens and releases something deep in their chest.

It feels like hunger.

Dew shifts beside them without breaking the quiet. He watches, too, eyes sharp and thoughtful.

The couch dips slightly as he leans in, one steady hand settling on Phantom’s shoulder. “You want to touch him, don’t you?”

Phantom flinches. Caught. “I -”

“It's alright,” Dew says gently. “Wanting is natural.”

Rain spins, laughing now, arms lifting high, hair stuck to his cheek. He knows he’s being watched, and he moves like he wants to be consumed.

Dew glances sideways, something knowing in his gaze.

Phantom doesn’t realize how tight their grip has gotten until Dew gently eases the glass from their hand and sets it aside. “Easy,” he repeats, voice warm. “No one’s going to make you do anything. Just breathe.”

Phantom exhales shakily.

Together they watch, drawn into the orbit of Rain’s joy like moths to heat, too close to realize they’re already burning.

Dew watches Phantom a moment longer, then stands. He offers a hand, not insistent, just there.

“Come with me,” he says softly. “Let’s get a better view.”

Phantom hesitates. Their fingers twitch.

Dew waits, hand open - gaze steady.

After a breath, Phantom reaches out and takes it, grabbing their drink as they stand.

He leads them slowly across the edge of the room, weaving between lounging ghouls and nodding familiars, until the dance floor heat brushes their skin and the music pulses beneath their feet. Still outside the circle, but close enough now to feel it.

Rain spins ahead, shirt riding higher with each motion. He catches sight of them, Dew’s hand around Phantom’s, Phantom wide-eyed and glowing under the soft, flickering lights.

He smiles.

He doesn’t stop dancing, but his attention shifts subtly.

Dew draws Phantom closer, leaning in to be heard over the bass. “Still not drinking that?” he asks, nodding at the untouched glass in their hand.

Phantom glances down and shrugs. “Doesn’t really interest me, I guess.”

Dew’s grin turns slow and wicked.

“Oh, I’ve got something better,” he says, voice low and warm in their ear. “Ever taken a shot the right way?”

Phantom blinks. “What’s the right way?”

Dew chuckles, tipping his head toward Rain. “Off him,” he says. “I pour. You taste.”

Phantom flushes to the pointed tips of their ears. “Wait - you mean -”

“Mhmm.” Dew leans in, just a little closer. “Pretty little body. Smooth skin. Rain loves to be savored.”

Across the dance floor, Rain meets their gaze and tips his head, his smile curling slow at the corners.

Phantom swallows. Their hand tightens in Dew’s.

Dew raises an eyebrow. “What do you say, bug? Want your first drink to be something unforgettable?”

Phantom stares wide-eyed, heart hammering loud enough they’re sure someone else must hear it.

“I -” They blink. Try again. “I’ve never - no one’s ever asked me to…”

Dew tilts his head, grinning softer now. “That’s not a no.”

Phantom’s mouth opens, then closes. They swallow hard. “Would… would he even want that?”

“You haven’t noticed?” Dew murmurs, stepping aside. “He’s been dancing for you.”

Phantom’s turns, just in time to see Rain approaching.

He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t strut. Just glides, like the whole room parts for him.

Rain’s cheeks are flushed navy, luminescence pulsing rainbow-bright beneath his skin. His chest rises with each breath, eyes steady and warm. He stops just close enough to feel - the tremble, the want, the way Phantom stills like prey.

“Hi,” he says, smile soft.

Phantom’s breath hitches. “Hi.”

Rain’s gaze drops briefly to their hands, then back up. “I saw you watching.”

Phantom opens their mouth - nothing comes out.

Rain tilts his head, inviting without pressure. “Did you like what you saw?”

They nod a little too fast.

Dew hums behind them, pleased. “Shy,” he tells Rain. “But definitely interested.”

Rain chuckles. “That's sweet.” He steps in close, close enough that Phantom feels the humidity rolling off his skin. “Do you want to try something with us?”

Phantom’s breath stutters, but this time they manage it.

“…Yes.”

Dew smiles, clearly pleased. “Good.”

Dew keeps Phantom’s hand as Rain turns, guiding them through the den’s warmth and shadows. The couch waits in its quiet corner, dim and half-hidden, far enough from the heart of the party that the beat is felt more than heard.

Rain is unbuttoning his shirt as he walks, sweat-slick fabric parting with practiced ease. He doesn’t rush; he knows what he’s offering. Reaching the couch, he sinks onto it, lounging back like he was made to fit those cushions.

Dew would say that he was.

Rain stretches one arm across the backrest, the other trailing over his stomach. His ribs rise and fall in a slow, steady rhythm, light clinging to every curve.

His gaze returns to Phantom.

“Come closer.”

Phantom obeys without thinking, heart pounding. Dew follows, snagging a bottle of honey-gold liquor from the side table.

“Watch closely,” Dew murmurs, voice low and coaxing.

He uncaps the bottle and pours, slowly, letting liquor pool in the hollow above Rain’s sternum.

Rain doesn’t flinch. He closes his eyes and tips his head back slightly, lips parting with a quiet breath. He looks like something sacred - offered not for worship, but for devouring.

Dew crouches, steady hand sliding along Rain’s ribs, fingers splayed like he’s cupping something fragile. Phantom can’t miss how perfectly that hand settles between Rain’s gills.

“Look first,” he says softly, eyes flicking to Phantom. “Then tongue.”

He leans in.

Honey and spice rise first, edged with a sharp note that slices through the room’s heat. The liquor glows faintly where it rests on Rain’s chest.

Dew lowers his mouth to Rain’s skin. His lips brush just above the liquid, a breath ghosting over the damp surface. Rain shivers beneath him.

Then, slow and deliberate, Dew licks.

His tongue traces the curve of Rain’s sternum, warm and firm, following the glistening trail with practiced ease. He drinks with a low hum. Rain releases a soft, broken sigh. It’s more than sound, it’s sensation, torn from deep inside. His gills open ever so slightly with his breath, and the muscles beneath his skin ripple faintly under the heat of Dew’s mouth.

Dew pulls back only once the last drop is gone. He licks his lips, slow and smug, then glances toward Phantom, his eyes dark with something rich and inviting.

“See?” he murmurs. “Sweet. Sharp. Better when tasted slow.”

He offers the bottle next - less invitation, more promise - gleaming between his fingers.

“Want to try?”

Phantom doesn’t move.

They just stare - at Rain, stretched out and glistening where Dew’s tongue had passed; at the bottle in Dew’s hand, golden and gleaming; at the drops still catching light above Rain’s heart.

Their mouth dries. Fingers twitch.

They want - Lucifer, do they want - but nerves flutter wild in their chest, a thousand questions crowding their throat.

Their gaze turns to Dew. Then to Rain.

Finally they speak, soft and shaking: “Can I…?” Phantom swallows. “He’s your mate. I don’t want to cross a line. I don’t want to... you know."

Dew’s heat softens into something gentler. Maybe even proud.

“You’re sweet,” he murmurs. “Careful. That’s good.”

Rain opens his eyes, dark with pleasure, steady with trust.

“You’re not taking,” he says. “I’m offering.”

He lifts his hand, palm open, no pressure, just welcome.

“I want you to. If you want to.”

The world holds still for a breath.

Phantom steps forward, just one trembling shuffle, and reaches for the bottle. They turn it over in both hands, trying to mimic Dew, but their fingers shake too much. They hover above Rain’s chest, uncertain.

“I…” They barely whisper. “I don’t want to mess it up.”

Dew steps in, close behind. He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t smile. Just leans in, chest pressed to Phantom’s back, one arm curling around their waist - solid and grounding. Hot.

“Let me help,” he breathes at their ear. His other hand covers theirs, fingers steady and sure around the bottle.

“Start here,” he murmurs, tilting their hands until the liquor pours - a slow, gleaming ribbon. It lands in the hollow of Rain’s chest.

His lips part, lashes fluttering.

“Good,” Dew whispers. “Just like that.”

Phantom swallows, body easing into Dew’s hold as he guides them lower.

“Now look,” he murmurs. “Really look at him.”

Phantom does. How could they not? Rain lies beneath them, skin flushed and pulsing blue, throat bared in trust. Liquor glistens like melted sunlight. His expression is nothing but invitation.

“You won’t hurt him,” Dew murmurs. “Just touch. Gently. Here.”

He sets the bottle aside and guides Phantom’s other hand forward until their fingertips brush just below Rain’s ribs.

“Start low. Feel his breath. Let your hands tell him you’re here.”

Phantom’s touch trembles, but it lands. Rain exhales, soft and pleased.

Their hand stays where Dew placed it, resting just beneath Rain’s ribs, the skin there flushed and warm. Phantom’s breath stutters again… then steadies as Dew leans in close.

“You’re ready,” Dew murmurs, voice low and sure.

His hand finds their hair, fingers threading gently through the strands. Not pulling, just grounding.

“Eyes first,” he says, lips brushing their ear. “Let him feel you looking. Then tongue.”

Phantom leans in.

Dew’s fingers tighten slightly, just enough to be felt. The air shifts, the edge of a growl tucked low in his throat.

“Don’t touch his gills.”

The words are quiet, but they land with weight.

Phantom nods immediately, voice just a breath. “Of course.”

Rain stirs. One hand lifts, cool and sure, settling lightly on Dew’s elbow. Not pushing, just reminding. His fingers curl once, a silent pulse of reassurance.

He’s still Dew’s.

But tonight, he’s offering himself, and he wants to be touched.

Phantom lowers slowly, steadied by Dew’s hand in their hair and his arm cinched at their waist. The world narrows to Rain’s skin; salt-warm, sweat-slick, luminescence glowing in the low light.

And then - they lick.

The first touch is clumsy: a hesitant touch of tongue, barely a taste.

But then Rain sighs, a long, low, willing sound, and Phantom’s nerves start to settle.

They lick again, slower this time, chasing warmth and the faint bite of liquor down the shallow curve of his chest. Soft lips brush the center of his sternum. Rain arches, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

Dew’s hand tightens gently. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “That’s exactly it.”

Phantom pulls back just enough to breathe. Rain opens his eyes, and what they see there - desire, trust, pleasure, welcome - makes their knees go weak.

They don’t speak. They just look up at Dew, lips wet, lashes fluttering.

Dew smiles, slow and full of fire. “Told you,” he says. “Sweet, isn’t he?”

Phantom nods and leans back in.

Their breath ghosts over Rain’s skin, cooler than Dew’s. The contrast sends a shiver rippling down Rain’s chest to his spine.

Dew watches with quiet pride, hand steady in their hair, his body a furnace at their back. The contrast is stark, Dew’s heat blooming along Phantom’s back while Rain’s skin welcomes their cool touch like water holding starlight.

Rain’s fingers twitch against the cushions. He tips his head back, mouth parted, throat bared, breath a shade quicker.

Dew hums low, pleased, heat wrapping tighter around Phantom. “Feel that?” he murmurs. “He likes how you're tasting him.”

Phantom pulls back, face flushed despite their natural chill. Their fingertips tremble on Rain’s chest, feeling the fast, steady beat beneath.

Dew’s mouth is at their ear again. “Go on,” he urges, guiding them forward. “Give him more. He isn’t done being kissed.”

They lift their eyes to Rain’s.

“…Where?” they whisper. “Where do you want me?”

The question is quiet enough to drown in music, yet Rain hears. He blinks, dazed but focused, pupils wide. A hand lifts, slow and gentle, to cup Phantom’s cheek, thumb brushing their jaw.

“Anywhere,” he breathes. “But…”

His hand drifts down, tracing a slow line past his collarbone and sternum.

“Here.” His fingertip settles just above his waistband. “Taste me here.”

Dew exhales behind them, a single breath of spark and satisfaction. “Hear that, bug?” he murmurs, pressing closer. “He’s asking.”

His fingers tighten in their hair.

“Give it to him.”

Phantom swallows hard.

Their free hand trails after Rain’s, lingering where he pointed. Then they lean in, mouth lowering to the place he offered.

Rain’s muscles twitch under the touch, his body shifting in a slow, unguarded exhale. His head rolls against the cushion, curls tumbling loose, mouth parting on a sigh that flirts with a whimper. He doesn’t direct. Doesn’t move. He just gives; his trust, his breath, his body.

Phantom kisses just beneath his navel. Lips cool, barely a breath. Then they part, tongue slipping out to trace a trembling line above Rain’s waistband. He moans, quiet and helpless, legs shifting slightly beneath them.

“Just like that,” Dew purrs, voice thick with praise. “You’re doing so good, bug.”

He stays pressed to Phantom’s back, steady as a spine, hand firm in their hair. Every time they falter, he’s there; anchoring, whispering, coaxing.

“Feel how he melts for you?” Dew says. “That’s yours. He wants it.”

Rain’s breath catches as Phantom kisses lower, slower, tongue gliding over a fresh stretch of skin. Their cool mouth draws a deeper shiver, and Rain’s hips lift, chasing it. Phantom gasps, lips still against his skin, startled by Rain’s response, by the pleasure they’d earned.

“Give him more,” Dew whispers. “He can take it.”

Rain’s hand finds their wrist and holds it gently against his side. Not pushing, not pulling, just keeping them close.

“I like the way you touch me,” he says, voice loose with pleasure. “Don’t stop.”

Phantom nods, swallowing again. They kiss and lick across Rain’s belly, tasting yuzu, sweet grass, sea salt… and cardamom, unmistakably Dew.

Rain shudders. His fingers tighten gently around them, drawing Phantom’s focus up from where their mouth still lingers.

“Can I have a drink too?” he asks, voice thick with warmth, pleasure, and something hungry curled sweet at the edges.

Phantom blinks.

They lift their head slowly, lips wet, pupils blown wide. “A drink…?”

Rain’s smile deepens, just a little smug. “Mm-hm.”

Phantom’s brows pinch, brain fogged. “I - I don’t - have anything on me -”

Dew chuckles low behind them.

He leans in, lips brushing their ear. “He wants you, bug,” he murmurs. “Wants a shot off your pretty skin.”

Phantom’s breath catches - “Oh.”

Their cheeks burn with sudden heat, that delicious mixture of embarrassment and desire sparking all over again beneath their skin. They glance at Rain, who’s watching them with that same open, patient want.

“Is… is that okay?” Phantom whispers.

Rain hums, sitting up, fingers brushing over Phantom’s wrist. “It is,” he says gently. “But only if you’re okay with it.”

Dew’s hand slides down their back, steadying. “We won’t do anything you don’t want. But if you do want…” He kisses the hinge of their jaw, tongue flashing. “…he'd love to taste how sweet you are.”

Phantom's lashes flutter. “Yeah,” they whisper, and in a blink they're clambering onto the couch, sitting up on their knees. With fumbling fingers they tug the collar of their shirt aside, baring the smooth line of their neck and shoulder. Their cool skin glows faintly in the amber light.

Rain’s focuses on the exposed strip of dusky-lilac skin. He licks his lips slow and thoughtful, as if already tasting.

But it’s Dew who moves first.

He slips behind them again, hands gliding over their waist and chest, up to cradle their jaw. One hand tips their chin back, baring the long line of their throat; the other steadies their hips, his heat soaking into their cool body.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs at their ear. “But I can’t let Rain have all the fun now can I?”

Phantom lets out a breathy laugh, hips shifting.

Rain rises with fluid grace, retrieving the bottle. He steps close, close enough for Phantom to feel his heat, cooler than Dew’s yet warmer than the air.

“Hold still,” Rain says, tilting the bottle.

The liquor trickles down the slope of Phantom’s throat, a golden ribbon that slips over their collarbone and down the curve of their neck. The temperature of it stings at first, startling against their cooler skin, but then it’s gone, replaced by Rain’s mouth. He leans in fast, tongue tracing the spill, slow and deliberate. Every lap is reverent, sensual, a careful savoring of salt and sweetness and Phantom’s own clean taste beneath it.

Phantom shudders; knees dip, but Dew’s arms lock around them, holding them steady.

“Good?” Dew whispers, lips brushing their temple.

Phantom can only nod, eyes shut, head tipping to bare more skin.

Rain hums against their throat. “You taste better than I imagined.” He pulls back slowly, tongue flicking the last drop at their collarbone. Cool breath follows the damp trail, and Phantom sways, dazed.

Dew steadies them.

“Mmm,” Rain murmurs, licking his lips, eyes half-lidded. “I could drink off you forever.”

Phantom releases a soft, wordless sound - too overwhelmed for speech.

Behind them, Dew growls - hungry.

“My turn,” he says, voice rough with want.

Rain leans back, letting Dew take the lead, eyes lingering on the scene.

Dew waits a beat, hands still and firm at their hip and jaw. His grip shifts, firmer, commanding, and he tilts their head back further to bare more of their throat.

“Can I mark you?” he whispers.

Phantom’s eyes fly open, startled, but they nod. “Y - yes.”

That’s all he needs. He bends and licks a slow stripe up their neck, tongue hotter than Rain, hotter than the liquor, hotter than anything Phantom has ever felt.

Then he bites. Not cruel, not deep, just enough: a sharp press at the crook of their neck that sends a jolt through their whole body. Their knees buckle but Dew’s arm, iron-strong, keeps them upright against his heat.

Phantom gasps. Rain squeezes their hand.

Dew pulls back only to lave the mark with his tongue. “There,” he breathes. “Something to remember me by.”

Rain, still watching, smiles, slow and wicked. “So pretty when you shiver.”

Phantom is breathless - caught between them, skin glowing from touch. Their shirt clings to one shoulder, the other is bare and proudly marked. Violet flush blooms in their cheeks as their pulse pounds beneath Dew’s tongue.

Rain rises and crowds in, fingers brushing Dew’s jaw. Dew looks up, the bite mark on Phantom still fresh on his lips.

Rain leans forward and kisses him.

It’s not soft. It’s deep, hungry, open-mouthed - fire passing between them. Heat floods through Dew, pressed hard to Phantom. He groans into the kiss, hand tightening on Phantom’s waist.

Rain pulls back, eyes darker. “Still thirsty?” he asks, voice low.

Dew grins, tongue flicking over his lower lip. “Always.”

Rain turns to Phantom. “Hold still for me, sweetheart.”

Phantom exhales, thankful for Dew’s physical support. “Okay.”

Rain lifts the bottle, tipping it gently above Phantom’s shoulder. He artfully avoids the blooming mark, letting the liquor stream cool down the side of their neck, across their collarbone, and into the dip between their chest and half-draped shirt.

Phantom gasps, the chill of it shocking.

Then Dew’s mouth is on them again - hot, eager.

He traces Rain’s path exactly, tongue following the golden trail like it laid for him. He licks every drop from their damp skin, chasing fresh shivers down Phantom’s spine. His teeth graze their collarbone - just enough to pull another whimper from their heaving chest.

Rain watches, hand resting on Dew’s shoulder. “So good,” he murmurs. “Look at you - our pretty little altar.”

Phantom makes a high, helpless sound - overwhelmed and undone.

Dew smiles against their skin, then pulls back to see their face. Lips parted, breath shallow, eyes wide and glassy with heat; they look wrecked already, still nearly fully dressed.

“C’mere,” Dew murmurs, sliding his hand to their waist and guiding them gently to straddle his lap. Phantom goes easily, body moving faster than thought.

Dew’s solid thighs radiate heat. His hands bracket their back and the nape of their neck, holding them steady, framed in fire. Phantom shudders, forehead resting against Dew’s.

“I can’t -” they breathe. “I don’t think I can take much more.”

“You can,” Dew answers, voice molten. “You’re doing so well. We’ve got you.”

Rain reaches behind them, brushes hair from the back of Phantom’s neck. His touch is cool, so much cooler than Dew’s furnace. They gasp, arching into it.

Rain’s hands glide down their sides, over the soft fabric still clinging to their hips. “Let us taste you together,” he murmurs. “Be good for us.”

Dew’s lips roam Phantom’s throat, biting harder now, emboldened by the way they whimper and cling. Rain mirrors the motion with soft, cooling kisses just below their ear, soothing where Dew devours. They bracket Phantom with their mouths, a perfect push and pull, working in tandem to unravel them.

Phantom trembles.

Their hands press to Dew’s shoulders for balance, but they’re slipping, breath by breath, into the space carved just for them.

Dew growls again. “Feel that? They’re shaking for us.”

“I do,” Rain breathes, voice tender with awe. “So good for us.”

Phantom’s hips twitch in Dew’s lap, caught between pleasure and the ache of needing more. Every breath is shallow and stolen. Their fingers twist into Dew’s shirt like it’s the only thing anchoring them to the world.

Rain’s hands glide slow over their sides, reverent as they chart every inch - fabric and skin. Dew’s mouth trails lower: their collarbone, the hollow of their throat, following the path of Rain’s pour with teeth and tongue.

Dew grins against them, his teeth grazing skin. “Adorable,” he murmurs. “Didn’t know bugs could make such sweet little sounds.”

“Could steal them away,” Rain adds, kissing the nape of their neck. “Drag them into the dark and ruin them.” Phantom twitches.

He chuckles, his breath cool. “You like being talked about?”

Phantom nods, barely lifting their head. “Mmhm…” Phantom’s hips jerk in Dew’s lap, a desperate grind that leaves them gasping.

Rain smiles against their skin. “Oh, they do like that.”

Dew slides two fingers up their side. “Look at them...practically glowing.”

Phantom buries their face in Dew’s shoulder, keening, caught between presence and pure pleasure.

Then they shift - not away, but closer. Phantom lifts their head, flushed and glassy-eyed, pressing tighter to Dew’s shoulders and whispering, aching:

“Dew… let me - let me taste you.” It spills from them in a rush, unpolished and urgent, like it’s been trapped behind their teeth too long.

He grins, slow and sharp-edged. “Here?” he teases, voice warm and wicked. “In front of all these people?”

Heat floods Phantom’s cheeks, but they don’t pull back. They turn to Rain, eyes wide and shining. “Please,” they whisper. “Rain…may I have a drink?”

Rain melts.

He tips their chin up with two fingers, eyes glowing with pride and tenderness. “So sweet,” he hums. “Asking for what you want. That’s my good little buggy.”

Phantom leans into the praise like it’s touch, their whole body blooming with warmth beneath it.

Rain’s smile turns mischievous as he shifts toward Dew. Unhurried, his fingers slip behind Phantom and undo the remaining buttons of Dew’s shirt.

One.

Two.

Three.

The fabric parts slowly, revealing the golden stretch of Dew’s chest, already kissed by heat and sweat, flushed and waiting. Dew watches with his mouth curved lazily, hands still holding Phantom close.

“Undressing me in public, boys?” he teases, voice thick with amusement. “Should I be blushing?”

Rain meets his eyes with a smirk. Then he lifts the bottle, tips it with care. The liquor pours in a slow cascade down Dew’s chest. It flows down his sternum, catching in each ridge of muscle, sliding toward his stomach. The scent of it rises, honey-sweet, and Phantom watches, wide-eyed and hungry.

Rain threads a hand into Phantom's hair. “Go on,” he whispers, fingers curling gently. “Taste him. Just like you tasted me.”

Phantom leans in. Their tongue flicks out, cool and cautious, lapping at the topmost line of liquor. Dew hums low, pleased, his chest rising under their touch.

Rain’s hand stays firm, guiding their mouth lower. “Slower,” he murmurs, a thread of command. “Let him feel every part of you.”

Phantom obeys. They press their tongue flat, licking down the glimmering trail Rain left behind. The contrast is dizzying - Dew’s heat, the sting of the liquor, Rain’s cool fingers in their hair - and a quiet moan slips from their mouth against Dew’s skin.

“Sweet, right?” Rain breathes, lips brushing the shell of their ear. “He always is.”

Dew chuckles, his hands stroking their thighs. “Careful,” he says. “Keep doing that and I might ask for seconds.”

Phantom licks lower, slower, tongue chasing the last of the liquor to the base of Dew’s sternum. Their movements are unsure at first, but Rain’s hand keeps them steady, like he already knows where they’re meant to go.

Dew’s breath catches. “Fuck,” he mutters, soft and helpless. One hand slips from Phantom’s thigh to their waist, fingers curling there.

“You’re killing me, Phantom,” he rasps. “That mouth…”

Phantom moans against his skin, trembling with need. Behind them, Rain smiles, voice dark with affection.

“You like how he tastes, don’t you?”

Phantom nods, breath stuttering. “Yes,” they whisper. “So warm…”

Rain’s hand drifts from their neck down their spine, then slips beneath the hem of their shirt. Cool fingers glide over their lower back and curl across their ribs; reverent, slow.

“You've been so good,” he says gently.

Phantom shivers, pressing into his touch.

Dew’s hand slips beneath the fabric from the front, reaching around to meet Rain’s fingers, both of them stroking Phantom’s trembling torso together, one hot, one cool. Phantom gasps and arches, caught between them.

Dew kisses their temple, rumbling low, “What do you want, Phantom?”

Rain kisses the back of their neck. “Whatever you want, it's yours.”

Hands move in sync, stroking ribs and stomach, exploring soft skin under a shirt that suddenly feels far too heavy. Phantom whimpers, hips shifting, entirely undone.

“More?” Dew asks, lips at their cheek. “Or do we just keep tasting you until you fall apart in our hands?”

Phantom trembles, flushed, shirt half-off, breath ragged, pressed between Rain’s cool and Dew’s furnace heat. But they still manage to nod, yes - more.

Before anyone can move, a voice cuts through the music.

“Rainy! It’s our favorite song!” Cirrus calls from across the den, waving him over with a playful grin. Rain sighs affectionately.

He leans in, kissing Phantom’s shoulder. “One dance,” he murmurs. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Phantom whimpers, clinging to his wrist like they might melt without him.

Rain cups their cheek, thumb brushing under one eye. “Stay with Dew,” he whispers. “Be good.”

Then he’s gone, swallowed by the pulsing crowd, hips rolling to the beat, shirt still hanging open. Phantom watches, dazed and aching, still straddling Dew’s lap - shirt loose with liquor cooling on their tongue.

Dew chuckles behind them.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, tracing slow circles along their back. “All wound up with nowhere to go.”

He shifts just enough to settle Phantom more firmly in his lap, one hand sliding to their thigh, fingers pressing, reminding them who holds them now.

“Look at him,” Dew whispers at their ear. “Pretty little tide, all swaying hips and soft smiles. Bet you’d crawl into his arms the second he looks your way.”

Phantom nods weakly, head lolling against Dew’s shoulder even as their gaze follows Rain.

Dew hums. “You could have him. Both of us. I can keep you in my lap while he licks you open - his tongue’s real soft. Maybe I’ll even help, part your folds so he can suck you off.” He kisses their crown as they whimper. “Or maybe I’ll be greedy and stuff you so full you forget your name.”

Phantom shivers.

He grins, grip tightening. “Or maybe you want another taste of me. When he comes back, we’ll lay you out like something sacred - let him drink from you while I feed you mine. Would you like that? Wanna be our little altar?”

“Please,” Phantom gasps.

“Then be good. Sit pretty. Let everyone see how lucky we are.”

Dew eases back into the couch, arms snug around Phantom’s waist. The den pulses around them - warm bodies in motion, laughter spilling, and Rain dancing a few feet away. Every moment stretches tight with promise.

Dew rolls his hips in lazy circles - slow enough to torture, deep enough to tease - his cock a steady pressure between Phantom’s thighs. Just enough to show what's waiting. Phantom gasps, fingers digging into his arm.

“Mmm,” Dew purrs. “There’s that sound I like.”

His practiced hands keep one grip at their waist, the other tracing idle circles along their thigh; so close to too much, but still not nearly enough.

“Look at him,” Dew murmurs, nodding toward the floor.

Rain moves in bliss: hips swaying to the heavy beat, shirt barely clinging on, curls damp against his neck. He looks like the music lives in him.

“You see that?” Dew breathes. “That’s not sweetness, bug. That’s hunger. And when he comes back, he’s gonna take you apart, piece by piece - slow, like he owns you. And you’ll beg for more, won’t you?”

Tears prick at the edges of their eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming flood of sensation.

“I want it,” they whisper. “Please...don’t stop."

Phantom barely recognizes the creature they’ve become: flushed violet, hips grinding on Dew chasing his warmth, lips shiny with liquor and need. A shy little void who once hid in corners now writhes in full view, aching for a ghoul who dances like sin and another who whispers like fire.

The shock of that awareness only fuels the hunger clawing up their spine - because every shred of dignity they thought they’d guard has already been offered, and they want to give the rest, want Rain and Dew to take it, to carve delight into every place restraint used to live.

Dew rocks a bit harder and Phantom whimpers, giving in to their desperation.

“Bet you wanna bounce on it right now, don’t you?” Dew teases, voice thick with wicked affection. Phantom grinds down, chasing the friction he keeps teasing away.

“Yeah? You’d let me fuck you right here?” Dew’s voice drips with heat.

Phantom nods, teeth clenched, gripping his sides like he might vanish.

“What do you think Rain would do, huh?” Dew breathes, teeth grazing their jaw. “Watch from the corner and fist his cock real slow?”

Phantom moans, hips grinding helplessly.

Dew growls low, voice thicker. “Not a chance. He’d drop to his knees. Lick us both clean. Taste your slick right off the base of my cock.”

Phantom gasps, sharp and startled. Something clicks. Not shame, but want - burning and brutal and so much deeper than they were ready for.

The image Dew paints lodges hot behind their eyes: Rain’s mouth open, cheeks flushed, eyes black with hunger as he licks them both clean. Phantom feels it - in their stomach, in their thighs, in the way their breath catches like a trap just sprung.

They don’t even try to stop the next moan. It curls low in their throat, wrecked. Their hips twitch again, harder now, chasing friction like they need it, like they’ll die without more.

Dew chuckles darkly. “Oh, you liked that, too.”

Phantom nods without meaning to, a quick little motion. They’re past pretending now. The hunger’s real. They’d let Rain do it.

Would beg for it.

Would beg for both of them.

Another broken noise spills from Phantom. Dew kisses just beneath their ear, thrusts up in perfect rhythm.

“When he sees you like this - needy, dripping, riding my lap in the middle of the party - he’s gonna lose his fucking mind.”

He doesn’t relent. Moves in lazy circles, slow torture, a steady reminder. Phantom clings to him like they're drowning, fighting not to finish on the spot.

“That’s it,” Dew croons. “Barely holding it together.”

His palm drags up their chest, fingers splaying wide. His thumb strokes their racing pulse.

“All these people around,” he whispers, “and no one gets to touch you but me.”

Phantom whines, soft and high in their throat, but they can’t look away. Rain’s still out there, shirt now gone, dancing with Cirrus, sweat shimmering across his ribs like water over stone. Dew’s lips find the hinge of Phantom’s jaw: one kiss, two, then teeth dragging toward the hollow of their throat.

“You want him to see you like this, don’t you? Want him to come back and find you dripping, almost ruined.”

A tiny, jerky nod.

“Say it,” Dew rasps.

“I… want him to see.” The words break on Phantom’s tongue.

Dew’s breath catches. “Fuck. You're perfect.”

One hand cradles the back of their head, the other slides under the hem of their shirt, fingers resting at their waistband, a promise, or maybe a threat.

“You’ve been so good for us,” he murmurs. “Gonna take such good care of you. But not yet.”

His gaze tracks Rain, hunger flashing hard behind his lashes. “Not until he sees exactly what’s waiting.”

Music throbs; Dew’s hips roll slow; Phantom’s breath flutters. Dew noses along their cheek, voice a spine-scraping whisper.

“Bet you don’t even know who you’ll beg for first.” A sharp smile follows. “Don’t worry, though. You don't have to choose.”

Phantom squirms, trapped between too much and not enough. Dew’s fingers drum lightly on their waistband, patient. Phantom whines, eyes half-lidded, too dazed to notice the shift in the crowd.

But Dew notices, and his grin widens.

“Pretty thing,” he croons, poison-sweet, “still sitting so well in my lap. Soft and waiting to be torn apart.”

Another whimper; Phantom doesn’t yet understand why Dew’s tone has darkened.

“You’ll look gorgeous in our nest,” Dew whispers, fingers slipping a breath lower, earning a gasp. “Rain’s going to love how you beg. Think you can wait? He’d hate to miss you coming apart.”

Phantom moans, hips twitching, so close. Dew grins, all teeth, and looks to Rain.

The beat swells, thick with heat and hunger, the crowd parting on instinct. Rain finishes his dance with Cirrus, spins her into Aether's waiting arms. When he turns his head, he sees them.

Phantom, straddling Dew’s lap, hips rolling to the slow grind Dew sets. Cheek buried in Dew’s neck, mouth open, eyes shut, already lost.

Rain’s gaze goes black.

He moves, strides through the crowd. Bodies peel away on instinct, the room adjusting around him like he's something inevitable.

No hurry. He owns the distance.

Phantom, drowning in heat and Dew’s filthy whispers, doesn’t sense him coming. .

Dew does. He meets Rain’s eyes, flashes a fanged smirk, but never breaks rhythm. He leans to Phantom’s ear.

“Keep moving for me, sweetheart. Give him a show.”

Phantom whimpers, trembling - caught between edge and oblivion.

Then - cool fingers slide up their arm.

They jolt; eyes fly open.

Rain stands before them; bare-chested, curls dark and wet, fangs half-bared in something that isn’t quite a smile. Predatory stillness radiates off him, heavier than the bass rolling through the den.

Phantom’s breath stops.

Rain’s eyes burn molten; his chest still heaves, and a devilish smile hooks his lips - hungry, and aimed solely at them.

“Thought I’d leave you like this, bug?” he asks, voice low, syrup-dark.

Phantom gasps, caught between shy heat and raw want.

Rain brushes a kiss along their cheek, then ghosts his mouth to their ear. “You look like sin in his lap,” he murmurs. “Was that the plan? Make me watch you writhe for him?”

Dew nips Phantom’s neck, chuckling. “Told them you’d love it.”

Rain hums, gaze raking over flushed skin, trembling thighs, parted lips. He doesn’t touch - yet. Only the backs of his fingers drift along Phantom’s jaw; his thumb strokes the curve of their cheek. Phantom melts into it, breath hitching.

“So flushed,” Rain purrs, amused. “Still thirsty?”

Before they answer, his teeth find the shell of their ear and he nips, sharp. Phantom jolts, pressing harder into Dew.

Dew growls approval, hand locking at their waist. “Rain…”

Rain answers by pressing forward, body molding to Phantom’s, pinning them between his chill and Dew’s furnace. Then he tilts his head and claims Dew’s mouth; slow, deep, all tongue and possession. Heat blooms through Phantom, nowhere to flee.

Rain breaks the kiss with a satisfied curve of lips -

– but the song lunches, heavy rhythm giving way to something aggressive and electric. Ifrit’s doing, no doubt. There’s a thud of heavy bass, a chaotic guitar riff, and someone whoops too loudly on the other side of the room.

Rain winces like the sound offends his blood.

“Ugh. Ifrit’s taste is abysmal.”

Phantom releases a shaky laugh.

Dew snorts into their neck. “Love when he gets pissy about music.”

Rain arches a brow and kisses Phantom’s temple. “Let’s move someplace quieter.” Then softer, into their ear:

“Our nest has plenty of space.”

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