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feelin' malicious, heard you like it vicious

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Jinyoung set the ground rules a long time ago, and the only thing that’s changed is the amount of toys they’ve steadily added to the game as they got to know each other’s intimacy better. It was simple math, really: they’re all more competitive than it should be healthy if we’re being honest, and Jinyoung has a thing for sharing his baby around, seeing him at the mercy of everyone else, while still controlling everything from the sidelines. And Jaebeom… yeah, Jaebeom probably gets the most out of it every time.

It’s still hard to understand sometimes, how he can enjoy it so much. Pain is supposed to be bad, to be undesirable and a warning to stop whatever is happening, but Jaebeom opens up to it, feels it course through his spine and comes harder because of it, asking for more even as tears of exhaustion run down his face. He’s greedy for it, never satisfied, begging until shame is all he has left.

They enjoy being on the other side almost as much as he enjoys receiving it, making bets among themselves on who will be the first one to make him cry, who will break him this time. And that’s how Jinyoung came up with the rules.

He sounded almost smug, a grin threatening to light his face up as he told them they could do anything they wanted to Jaebeom, have a go at him as far as he could and wanted to take it, and whoever could make him come would be rewarded for it.

Jaebeom sat next to him, fidgeting a little and looking down with more shyness than usual, his heart hammering fast and heavy in his chest. It always felt a bit embarrassing outside of a scene.

Today Jinyoung makes Jaebeom strip in front of all of them, his forced composure betrayed by the pink in his cheeks as he hears at least three different people sucking in their breath at the sight of him baring his skin.

“On your knees, baby.” says Jinyoung, a bit softer as he looks at him. He’s always nicer at the beginning, as he gets himself into the headspace, giving him the last moments of mercy.

Jaebeom tries to hide his swallowing and fails, tries to hide himself from the six people looking at him like a prey animal ready to be pounced on and fails. His hands demurely cross in front of him: if you didn’t know him you could almost say that he’s afraid.

They know better though; they know the excitement dancing behind his eyes, they know that, if anything, he’s dying of anticipation to start.

“You will only get to touch his nipples today, okay?” Jinyoung continues, already taking his place on a chair slightly separated from the group. “Try anything else and you’re disqualified for the day, make him come and I’ll let you sit on his face.”

The excited “Oooh” probably came from Youngjae, but it could’ve been anyone, really: Jaebeom’s nipples are, for lack of better words, delicious. They’re big, bigger than anyone else’s in the room, and slightly puffy at the smallest touch, and they’ve gotten so sensitive since he got them pierced.

(It was probably the best day of their lives, or a high contender for it, when they saw the metal peaking from the irritated flesh for the first time. Jinyoung told them he’d held his hand as if his life depended on it, baring his teeth and groaning in pain for the first one, and just whining weakly as the second needle went in. He’d always had a thing for piercings, after all.)

Jaebeom’s chest is rising and falling faster now, the effort to stay still visible in the iron grip he has on his own hands. He looks like he wants to say something, and Jinyoung, always the first to notice these things, asks him. “Do you want something, Beommie?”

He closes his eyes at the pet name, trying his best to keep his voice steady. “Can I… can I have the handcuffs? Please,” he adds, all formal and ready to be nice and respectful the way Jinyoung likes it.

Everyone definitely likes to see Jaebeom tied up, so nobody is going to object to it today. Jinyoung gets the handcuffs –they’re one of the oldest toys they have, cold metal ready to bite. He almost drapes himself over Jaebeom’s back, reaching for his wrists and bringing them together behind him.

(They all think it’s cute, how he is all big shoulders and a big back but his wrists are bony, small, almost delicate. It makes for easier holding when necessary, too.)

Jaebeom holds his breath as he feels the handcuffs tightening, his freedom of movement gone with the metallic sound. He likes it, though. A lot.

And Jinyoung is not done; leave it to him to always bring a bit more. He raises Jaebeom’s chin from behind, his hand firm as he forces him to look at everyone in front of him. It’s embarrassing, but thankfully it doesn’t last long. He sees the black blindfold and gratefully closes his eyes, steadying himself for the darkness. Once the fabric is tied strong and secure, he feels Jinyoung’s presence leaving him and he’s left alone, the memory of everyone’s hungry stares still burning in his mind. He keeps his head high: the blindfold was one of the things that took him the longest to get used to, the defenselessness and disorientation that comes with it turning from exciting into simply frightening, but the more he used it the more he enjoyed the freedom that it brought, the escape that it could be from overthinking even in these intimate moments and letting him just open up and take everything in.

He doesn’t know how long everyone stays this way, just drinking in the view in front of them, but when Jinyoung asks the final question: “Color, baby?” he replies easily. He’s ready, damnit, he’s been ready ever since Jinyoung told him what he had in mind earlier that day.

“Green.”

Jackson is the first one to give it a try, kneeling in front of Jaebeom’s naked body and reaching for his nipples slowly, almost carefully. Understanding and accepting this group dynamic took him the longest, mostly because sex for him has always been soft, sweet and almost careful; a far cry from what Jaebeom was telling him. He still likes to be nice with him to this day, to ease him into the game, to be the one to hold him as the rest of them tear him apart. And Jaebeom is okay with it too, a little smile and a content sigh escaping him as he recognises Jackson’s hands on his chest.

Jackson toys with him for a good five minutes, going from an almost caressing touch to lightly pinching, and it’s enough to have him gasping and arching into him the more he feels. Jaebeom’s cock is paying attention now: thanks to the piercings every feeling is heightened, amplified, turning what could’ve been sugary sweet into a sharp call to attention to prelude what’s to come tonight.

Jaebeom begins to slowly slip into a blur of touch and can’t help to jump a little when he suddenly feels Jackson’s tongue on him. The snickering –endeared, but still snickering- coming from the youngest ones brings him back to reality, reminds him that he’s being watched: there’s a performance tonight and he has the central stage for everyone to see.

He bites his bottom lip and tries to control his breathing, not ready yet to let go and show them how affected he is by now. He might have accepted his kinks, he might have made peace with the fact that he likes this and it’s okay, but it still takes him some time to properly relax and bare his most vulnerable side. He has his pride, damnit.

Jackson, however, keeps going, decided to at least make him react. He alternates between licking and softly biting, his hand entertaining itself with the other nipple and twisting it a bit to be rewarded with a gasp.

“Jackson… do that again.” he whispers, the desire itching under his skin now, his hands aching to touch himself more.

From somewhere on his left, Jinyoung tuts, like a strict teacher scolding a naughty child. Jaebeom freezes for the shortest second: he forgot he has to be polite now. He repeats the question, this time formally and adding a “hyung” after Jackson’s name for good measure. And he almost huffs out a laugh when he hears Jackson’s delighted gasp in response, his smile obvious even if he can’t see it.

“What do you mean, Jaebeom-ah? Do this again?” he says, this time twisting both nipples at the same time. Jaebeom lets a soft moan out this time, his mouth hanging open and a shiver running down his back; the first curls of pain mixing in with the pleasure.

Jackson plays with him a bit more, until his nipples are glistening with saliva and his dick is beginning to strain. Jaebeom almost complains when he feels him leaving, the cozy feeling leaving him almost immediately as the warmth disappears. He whines as he feels Jackson’s lips on his own, just a soft peak, that has him trying to pursue them when he pulls back way too soon.

Jackson might’ve just disqualified himself, but the warm and happy feeling budding in Jaebeom’s chest and showing in his satisfied expression is all the prize he needs.

Bambam and Yugyeom go next, both of them too excited to hold themselves back any longer, basking in the power they hold for these few minutes; the power to do anything they want to their Jaebeom hyung. They like to go together, to share him, to keep him on his toes and make him jump at the unexpected touch. They try hard to keep their giggles and cooing in, but it’s hard when he looks just so cute and vulnerable, all rosy skin and warm flesh for them to play with.

The first thing they do is ask for Jinyoung’s permission to move him from the harsh floor to the bed, and he must be feeling especially kind today, because a few seconds later Jaebeom feels him kneeling behind him. He stays still even as the restraints are removed, his hands held together until he’s allowed to move, because he wants to show them how obedient he can be, how he can be good. Hands on each side help him stand up, his knees grateful for the break they finally get. They maneuver him onto the bed, his body pliant and boneless for them to move around as they want. Even in total darkness he feels safe, surrounded by them, completely at their will.

Jinyoung lifts his hands up and he allows him to restrain him again, this time high over his head. Jaebeom adjusts a bit to the new position and then relaxes, trying his best to fight the sudden instinct to curl into himself and cover his now fully exposed body.

“Are you ready, Jaebeommie?” says Yugyeom from somewhere above him, an endeared tone in his voice. Jaebeom only nods, trying to ground himself and control the suddenly faster beating of his heart. He already saw what they were preparing before the scene started, and it’s probably the most embarrassing for him, and the anticipation is already burning steady and warm in his chest.

Bambam flicks his lighter on and lights a fat red candle, setting it aside waiting for the wax to melt. Jaebeom hears every movement as he strains his ears now that his eyes are blocked, and he’s so focused on the sound that when he first feels the ice cube touching his chest he jumps, a surprised gasp inevitable. Yugyeom, his fingers on his other nipple as cold as the ice, huffs a laugh and speaks in an entertained mumble. “Stay still for us.” he says, slowly moving the chip of ice in circles over one nipple and pinching the other with unforgiving force. Jaebeom only replies with a muted groan, the cold turning into pain that blooms in twin spots on his chest. Yugyeom has two ice cubes now –how are the kid’s hands not freezing at this point? He always had a higher pain tolerance than the rest, Jaebeom manages to think in a haze –and the ache is only getting worse the longer he moves them around. Jaebeom’s nipples are completely hard now, rivulets of water melting and running down his body to be absorbed by the sheets.

When Yugyeom steps back Jaebeom barely notices, the sensation slowly coming back to him. The cold doesn’t numb him for long, but when it’s gone from searingly cold to a pleasant tingle spreading towards his limbs, the first drops of wax fall on him.

He doesn’t scream out, but he’s close. The shock of the hot wax is always new; no matter how many times he’s been subjected to it he’s always surprised by how much that first moment hurts. The pain subsides rapidly, a ghost of heat on his skin, but the fact that it’s still cold from Yugyeom’s previous treatment makes it worse, the confusing burning and freezing sensations sending alarms into his brain and making him struggle against the handcuffs almost without realizing.

Yugyeom quickly sits on his legs to prevent him from moving around, and Bambam shushes him, his arousal almost exuding from his skin. The first round of wax had been short, just some quick drops on one side, but now he places a warm hand on his chest and holds Jaebeom down, feeling his heartbeat hammering under the skin. Then he turns the candle and holds it steady, a stream of red splashing down and covering the already abused nipple almost immediately. Jaebeom is barely aware of a long, pained whine coming from himself, the heat searing like white hot needles on his already sensitive skin. Bambam keeps going, unforgiving, his hand an anchor on him as the wax starts to cool down. Yugyeoms voice comes from far away and he doesn’t really try to understand what he’s saying, something about how much he seems to be enjoying this. His cock is fully hard now, twiching a little when Bambam drops the last droplets of molten wax on him.

For a few seconds the only sound in the room is Jaebeom’s laboured breathing and the clinking of the handcuffs as he tries to move and fails. He’s almost forgotten how the cold of the ice felt like, but Yugyeom is quick to remind him, softly moving the cubes all over his nipples again, over the hardening wax, the reddening skin. The contrast of the feeling is so strong that Jaebeom starts struggling almost immediately again, pleading to Yugyeom, to Bambam, to Jinyoung, to anyone, please. Yugyeom’s hands come to a halt. “What color?” he says, almost worried for a second. Jaebeom breathes in shakily, and replies “Green” almost immediately. The cold has gone from uncomfortable to painful again, and Jaebeom has to make a real effort to stay still, planting his feet on the bed and hopelessly trying to get some friction on his now painfully hard dick, his arms shaking.

When he gets relief from the cold, however, it’s only for Bambam to come back, and somehow the pain is worse this time when he already knows what’s coming. He feels each drop as they make contact, pained moans leaving his mouth and his teeth gritted with the effort.

When they finally decide to have mercy on him, his dick is flushed and leaking, and he’s almost desperate for anyone to touch him.

And he’s barely halfway through.

He can feel Yugyeom’s hard dick on his thigh as he kneels next to him, the sudden desire and knowledge that it’s his own suffering that is turning him own hitting him out of nowhere. His guts churn with it, and he’s completely ready to beg to be touched when he hears Bambam’s voice, heavy and aroused. “You were really strong today, Jaebeommie.” His dick only feels harder when his words hit him, and he moans once again.

“You should see yourself right now.” says Jinyoung once he’s alone on the bed. “Just beautiful. Do you want to give up, Beommie?” His voice is mocking and cold, almost sneering in the way he looks down on him.

Jaebeom forces himself to breathe in, Jinyoung’s tone adding fire to his arousal.

“I wouldn’t want to leave anyone hanging, would I?” he replies, and he’s surprised to hear how wrecked his voice sounds. He must’ve been screaming more than he realized, he thinks.

“Let’s see how much more you can take, shall we?” comes Jinyoung’s response, his own arousal masked by the dominating persona he loves to embody so much. He stands up again and cleans the cooled wax from his skin with almost clinical detachment, his hands barely twitching when Jaebeom whines at the contact and tries to move towards his voice and his touch.

Everyone’s eyes are fixed on the angry red dotting Jaebeom’s skin, his nipples looking sore even from a distance, his labored breathing as he tries to keep himself together. Someone is definitely touching himself as he watches, probably more than one of them.

Youngjae is the next one to step towards the bed, hiding the nipple clamps in his hands even if he knows Jaebeom can’t see him. Their bite alone is strong, and they have both a chain connecting them for easy pulling and screws to worsen it. And it might have been enough by itself, but Jaebeom’s piercings ensure that the sensation is heightened, the pinch turning pleasure into pain into pleasure. Youngjae uses them often these days, his most sadistic side coming out every time he gets to pull on them, going further and further until Jaebeom is begging for mercy every time.

“Jaebeommie?” he asks, softly.

“Hm?” he replies, moving his head to face the source of the voice.

“Deep breath for me, okay?”

Youngjae’s deft fingers find Jaebeom’s right nipple quickly, pinching it upwards with enough strength to rip an urgent moan from him as he arches up. The feeling of the clamp when it’s attached sends him stumbling close to the edge of panic from the first moment, the pain traveling down his spine and all the way to his limbs and making his dick twitch. He feels Youngjae’s hands on him, grounding him, shushing soothingly as one hand travels lower and lower while still completely ignoring his now definitely leaking member.

“Youngjae, do I need to repeat myself, now?” Jinyoung’s insufferably smug voice has both of them gasping, and Jaebeom whines in disappointment as the contact right away. Youngjae doesn’t waste any more time and he repeats the treatment to his left nipple, a smile involuntarily appearing on his face as he sees Jaebeom’s immediate response.

The clamps hurt in a way nothing has hurt so far, the pressure impossible to ignore and making Jaebeom pull on the handcuffs more strongly. His breathing is fast and shallow, a moan stuck in his throat on every exhale. He doesn’t even notice that he’s planted his feet on the mattress and he’s trying to hump up until Youngjae’s giggle reaches him, asking “Are you trying to get your legs tied down too, baby? Stay still.”

After what seems to be ages Jaebeom simply gives in to the feeling, slumps back into the bed and lets the pain and the almost unbearable pressure of his dick take control of his thoughts. He feels raw, his nerves screaming in alarm on every heartbeat, barely aware of the desperate little sounds he’s letting past his parted lips. He feels himself close to coming, the pressure building up slowly but constantly, and he presses his thighs together with stubbornness.

He will make it to the end of Jinyoung’s game, he refuses to lose at this point.

Youngjae, of course, notices this, and moves to tighten the screws some more. Jaebeom throws his head back with a soundless moan, gasping and giving in to begging for a second time when he feels his fingers on him, more moans spilling from his lips when he doesn’t stop.

“Are you going to help me win, Jaebeommie?” he says, honey sweet but with enough spice in it to have him keening as he shakes his head weakly. He’s past words at this point, but the message comes across just as clearly.

“Is that so?” continues Youngjae, a dangerous tone slipping into his voice. He grabs the chain from Jaebeom’s chest, giving it a yank that it’s past gentle and caring and directly into mean. Jaebeom’s reaction is shocked, gasping shakily and high even as he feels his own precum dropping on his stomach.

In the background, somewhere, Bambam comes at the sight, his eyes locked onto the scene in front of him but one hand holding himself on Yugyeom’s thigh, unable to stop himself from moaning loudly.

Youngjae keeps his grip tight on the chain, reveling on Jaebeom’s tense muscles and pained expression, his other hand ghosting around the reddened, abused skin delicately. When he lets go of it it’s only because he feels Mark’s presence next to him, demanding his turn without saying anything.

Mark is… Mark is intense, to say the least. He isn’t very vocal, he just takes and demands and hurts without betraying his own arousal, building it up and up no matter how much Jaebeom begs every time. He’s always unexpected, always surprising, always imposing.

Jaebeom loves it.

He feels a final feathery touch on his nipples as Youngjae removes the clamps delicately, an apologetic caress that comes exactly on the right time. He can’t help the whimpering breath that escapes him, trapped between wanting the kind touch to stay and anticipating what is yet to come. He shifts minutely on his back, his arms already burning steadily from the position he’s forced into, feeling the handcuffs scraping raw against his overly sensitive skin. His cock is leaking, probably, still standing proud and a constant blur of arousal in his lower half.

One left.

He takes a grounding deep breath in, aware of how Mark is waiting for him to be ready. They know him so well at this point, they know his rhythm and his needs and his limits and how much he loves to be pushed beyond them.

The first ghost of Mark’s fingers on him already breaks the delicate balance he’d built in the last seconds, immediately arching into the touch and breathing out a shaky moan that would’ve been embarrassing in a less compromising situation

I’m not going to make it through him, aren’t I.

Jaebeom tries to press his thighs closed, tries to hump upwards, tries to get something, anything on his dick. The relief is kept sadistically out of reach, though, as he feels a second pair of hands prying his legs open, holding them apart against the bed with definitely more strength than it would be needed.

“No, no, Jinyoungie, let me-“ he moans pathetically, knowing all too well who is holding him.

His begging is cut short by a sharp slap to his thigh, the sudden sting cutting into the already red-hot haze of his pain. “Am I going to have to tie your legs down, too?” Jinyoung snickers, voice seemingly unaffected by everything that’s been happening in front of him. “Take it, or I’ll stop being nice.”

Jaebeom’s overwhelmed brain can only respond with another tiny whine, all too aware of Mark’s hands still softly touching his nipples, the echo of Jinyoung’s slap, his voice and how it veered into cruel, how is he so composed after all of this, how does he do it and the need to be touched before he explodes and how everything hurts and it’s so good and that’s when he feels Jinyoung moving away right as Mark attaches the first little electrode to his left nipple.

Once he thought himself beyond begging, beyond submitting to them, beyond trying to appeal to their mercy.

Right now he tries to do everything at once.

Because Mark likes using the electrodes, the little fucker, and they fucking hurt and God he’s already so past the edge and he’s going to break and-

He’s barely aware of his own stream of babbling as Mark, seemingly unaffected, adjusts the second electrode on his right nipple; but if he could remove himself from the pulsing bruise of pain and arousal that his body is right now he could see how half of his audience are more than ready to come from the sight, drinking on every plea and every pained whimper.

Jinyoungie pleasepleaseplease I can’t do it I can’t I can’t please

His Jinyoungie must be in a truly good mood today, because he doesn’t punish him for forgetting to speak formally, electing to simply muffle his desperate begging with his fingers. Jaebeom chokes involuntarily, focusing his entire might on not biting down.

A beat passes, Jaebeom’s nerves betraying him as he tenses, not ready for what’s to come in the slightest. He can feel both Jinyoung’s and Mark’s presence hovering above him even if he can’t see them, and he tries to steel himself with a breath that sounds more shaky than he would’ve wanted. Every heartbeat lights his senses up with pain. Time seems to stretch, to last forever and nothing at the same time, Jaebeom’s entire being tethering between resisting and just giving in. He can distantly feel feel Jinyoung’s hand in his hair, carding through the sweaty strands so gently that he almost cries.

And then everything is the pain, and the bite, and he doesn’t know how long it lasts, he doesn’t know if he’s crying or moaning, he doesn’t know if he came, and everything hurts and Jinyoung is still filling his mouth with his fingers and he can feel them on his tongue and Mark isn’t touching him anymore and the hand in his hair and the unforgiving electricity that has been going on forever and he just needs to come everything is on fire and he can’t hold it he’s trying he has been trying for so long he still wants to win this game but it’s so much and then he’s coming and it’s over.

He’s not gone, he’s still dimly aware of the electrodes being removed in the twin blooms of pain on his chest and the ache in this dick has been replaced by pure bliss and oh shit he probably came and Jinyoung has forgotten his role for a split second and he’s petting his hair and Jaebeom just leans into it with the little strength he has left and he can hear Mark’s satisfied little chuckle somewhere in the vicinity and then he remembers what the rules are today and what just happened and he can’t help it and he moans, needy, through Jinyoung’s fingers still almost down his throat.

He feels completely spent, his body like a rag spread thin and torn apart, but he still doesn’t complain when he feels the heavy weight of Mark on top of him, sitting on his still painfully sensitive chest, the sound of his hand slick on his cock a prelude of what’s yet to come.

“He’s insatiable, isn’t he?” Mark’s voice is thick with arousal, low and amused and turned on all at once, and Jaebeom moans again in response, too exhausted to do anything else. He does let out a little complaining noise when he feels Jinyoung leaving his side again, his fingers leaving a messy trail of saliva down his chin, but the stern “Be good now” that he receives in response is enough to shut him up, for now.

“Can I take the blindfold off?” Mark asks, his fingers already gripping the fabric greedily. Jaebeom, still a bit spacey in the haze of his orgasm, takes a second and then nods, his lips slightly parted and trying to follow the sound with his head.

The blindfold, Mark notices, is damp with Jaebeom’s tears, shed in the hidden darkness behind the fabric. When he removes it Jaebeom keeps his eyes closed for a moment, half scared of facing the light. When he does open them they shine with more unshed tears, tears he wasn’t even aware of existing, blinked away in a split moment of shyness.

“Hey,” smiles Mark, the tension breaking even in the middle of the scene. “I won.”

Jaebeom can’t help but snort softly, even as he’s still trying to get used to the light in the room and blinking a lot.

“Kind of easier when four people went before you, don’t you think?” he teases, his voice scratchy and rough with use.

Mark barely reacts to the jab, easily slipping back into his role as he supports himself on one of Jaebeom’s arms, still tense and tied up to the headboard, and grips a handful of his hair with his other hand.

Jaebeom’s eyes dart around him quickly, looking at Bambam and Yugyeom holding each other, Jackson in a near corner, Youngjae who seems to want to eat the scene in front of him right up. And Jinyoung. Every seems to have come except Jinyoung, his stare still hard and his eyes set, his arousal visible while he doesn’t make any effort to touch himself.

A painful grip in the back of his head brings his view back to Mark, his hungry eyes and his cock right in front of his face. Without being told, Jaebeom opens his mouth as wide as the position he’s in will let him, his tongue resting sweetly on his bottom lip. He’s good, and good boys don’t need to be told what to do, do they?

He barely has time to take a deep breath before Mark is taking advantage of the scene laid in front of him and guiding his eager mouth to his length. Jaebeom doesn’t choke at all, as usual, relaxing his throat as much as possible and letting Mark take, and take, and go further until he’s flush against his face.

When Mark is close he’s ruthless, forgetting kindness in favor of chasing his own orgasm. And this is his prize, after all. Jaebeom soon needs to focus on trying to breathe in the split seconds where Mark lets him, relaxing his mouth and his neck and just giving himself to be used by him, the practically constant moans muffled in his throat the only indication that he’s feeling it at all. He refuses to close his eyes, no matter how much they prickle, how fast the tears come back and soon are spilling down the sides of his face, Mark’s hand in his hair strong and unforgiving and his grunts betraying how close he is.

Jaebeom knows him well. He knows when he’s about to come, he tries to get ready, but still he’s not fully ready when Mark comes down his throat, holding him still by the hair, his eyes closed and a whine high in his throat. He tries his best to swallow as everything feels brighter and a dim roar in his ears reminds him that he should breathe, but fuck it feels so good , his entire body pulsing in a heartbeat as he splutters around trying to swallow Mark’s cum.

Mark releases Jaebeom softly, letting his head fall back on the bed and gasping at the sight of him struggling and failing to swallow everything. He cleans the droplets spilling from his lips, feeding them back to him with a finger softer than everything he’s done to him today. Jaebeom breathes deeply, a ragged sound in the back of his throat and he sucks Mark’s finger clean.

For a long, elastic moment the only sound in the room is heavy breathing, from Mark as he carefully gets off Jaebeom’s chest and goes to look for his underwear wherever it might be, from Jaebeom’s chest still rising irregularly as he forces himself to calm down and will his already newly interested hard-on, from Jinyoung as he finally lets his control snap and swiftly walks towards the bed.

Jaebeom lazily looks at Jinyoung, who is peeling the last of his clothes off, and musters a half-cocky grin on his face.

“Here to finish me off?” he says, trying his best to raise a single eyebrow and make his tone generally insufferable.

“You know, you would look more convincing if you didn’t half Mark’s load still on your face,” comments Jinyoung with a fake scandalized tilt of his head. “You look debauched, hyung.”

Ah, so it’s hyung again.  Jinyoung loves to play the mean, ruthless character, he amps it up and lives for it, but sometimes he just wants to be soft. Like today, it seems.

Jaebeom can’t help but beam up at him, the damp strands of his hair splayed all over the sheets and sticking to his forehead. His arms are shaking with exhaustion, his own cum is drying up on his stomach, his nipples are so sore that they’re still steadily radiating pulses of pain all the way down his spine, he’s annoyingly and painfully hard after getting choked and pushed around, and his throat feels thick and raw just like his wrists, but he feels so good right now. He can see Jinyoung melt on top of him, an endeared little giggle making his way out.

“If I don’t need to be formal with you anymore, can you get the handcuffs off?” he says next, because suddenly he’s burning with the need to touch, to hold, to reach.

Jinyoung hums in amusement, even as he’s reaching for the keys on the nightstand. “I thought you wanted them in the first place, though?” he says, a smile betraying his endearment.

Jaebeom just hums back, too gone and fuzzy to think of the next witty remark. When the handcuffs click open he takes a few seconds to stretch his fingers around, to roll his arms a bit, to make sure he still feels everything. Jinyoung catches his hands with one of his own, enveloping them easily and softly rubbing the angry red marks on his wrists. Jaebeom closes his eyes for a second and lets himself be pampered, but it doesn’t last long.  

“Are you going to help me come, hyung?” asks Jinyoung, setting his hands down. The question is a real one, giving him the option to stop if he wants to. But Jaebeom is hard again, and Jinyoung is hard again, and they can hear stirring noises from the rest of them around them, clearly agreeing with the proposal.

(They always fake retching sounds and disgusted looks when they get soft in public, but there’s something about these moments of soft intimacy that gets them, the fact that they would allow each other to be shared, the fact that their relationship is so close that they can all do this together. But yes, a spectacle always sounds like a good idea. Yugyeom thinks he could totally come again with a little time.)

So Jaebeom just uses his hands, his hands that look so small and delicate trying to hold both their cocks together, as Jinyoung burrows on his side and pets his hair and maybe even kisses his red, abused nipples softly, keeping it sweet and nice without any teeth this time and sucking on the piercings, their moans mixing together and rising and harmonizing until their cum is glistening all over Jaebeom’s hands and he’s lying back, fully spent, his chest rising up and down as he comes down.

(Yugyeom wasn’t the only one who totally came again.)

The first moments after they gradually come back to their senses always are a bit of a flurry, the grossness of the cum drying on diverse surfaces suddenly becoming an issue, tissues and showers being asked for all around. But first they all move towards the bed where Jinyoung and Jaebeom lie together, making space for each other and giggling airily when it becomes apparent that even king beds are not, in fact, created with seven grown men cuddling on them in mind.

Nevertheless, everyone gets a chaste kiss, some caressing, a gentle touch. The games are fun, and they go all out in them, and they have fun, but this is the moment they crave the most every time. The moment when they can forget formalities and life and just enjoy each other’s closeness for a minute.

The moment ends and the atmosphere is promptly shattered as Jackson makes a comment on sweaty skin, and with along Bambam and Yugyeom starts a quick rock – paper – scissors game to see who gets to use the bathtub first. They run off, giggling, and soon Youngjae and Mark follow them with groans as they disentangle themselves from the pile of limbs on the bed.

Jinyoung remains a bit longer, knowing too well just how much Jaebeom loves this final moment, the care and the love being laid down on him while he’s still gone enough to not feel embarrassed by it. He drops some more soft kisses on his face, on the two moles on his chest, and even steals a few more on his still overwhelmed nipples, giggling when it gets him a weak smack on the head.

Jaebeom feels light, floaty, full. In a few minutes he’ll start whining about cleanliness and the clothes strewn across the floor, and he’ll spend the following few days making remarks on his poor sore nips to any poor soul who has to listen to him, but right now, he’s exactly where he wants to be. He holds Jinyoung close to him, refusing to let him move at all, smiling when he huffs in annoyance.

They stay still for a while, until their breathing has synchronized, until they almost inadvertently drift off into sleep.