SATURDAY, 9AM — HOUR 1
"Hyung,” Taehyung asks, trying not to sound as put-out as he feels, which is very. “Why are we here?”
“Because it’s Saturday date time, and it’s my turn to pick,” Namjoon says from below him, panting as he thrusts. It sounds like it’s costing him a lot of effort.
Taehyung pauses to think. “Allow me to rephrase for clarity,” he says. “Why are we here? Or maybe: why are we here? No? Why are—”
He’s rudely interrupted when Namjoon sits up, the giant rubber ball that’s been heaving up and down from his chest thudding with a sad, loud thwack onto the floor beside them. Taehyung raises his eyebrows now that Namjoon is at eye level with him where he’s belly-flopped on the utility bench.
“Taehyung, baby,” Namjoon says sweetly. Taehyung preens. He loves being called baby. “Kindly get down from there and start paying attention to this very expensive yoga class I paid for.”
Taehyung deflates. Groans. Moans. Concedes. He cannot believe Namjoon would be this nefarious. You think you know someone, and then they trick you into agreeing to 9am hot yoga for your weekly date activity, the activity that’s supposed to keep romance thriving in a healthy, loving relationship.
“The things I do for you,” he grumbles as he lets himself roll, limp-limbed, off the bench. When he bumps into something pointy and hard, he blinks. That’s not the shape of Namjoon. He would recognize his boy anywhere.
His eyes travel from the bubblegum pink shoe that’s currently wedged into his belly, to a distinctively shapely ankle, up a pair of long, perfectly smooth legs and the hem of a pair of shorts that flare out so much that he’s pretty sure he can see the shadow of the right ball—
“Excuse me,” a voice says. “Eyes up here, thank you very much.”
The voice belongs to a man. A man with veritable eighties shoulders, a mildly irritated look in his eyes like Taehyung’s an errant piece of slightly sticky trash he just stepped in, and lips — fat, beestung lips. In other words, the first truly hot thing that Taehyung has encountered in this so-called hot yoga class. Q.E.-motherfucking-D.
“Are you drooling?” the man asks. He removes his foot from Taehyung’s abdomen. “Hey, is your buddy okay?” This is directed at Namjoon, who is also staring at this god among men like he’s ready to start going to church.
“He’s not my buddy,” Namjoon says vaguely, and the man makes a face.
“He’s my boyfriend,” Namjoon finishes, and the man’s frown deepens. Uh-oh.
Then he rolls his eyes, says, “Well, all the more you should stop him from rolling on the floor, like an animal, then,” and walks away.
The back of his shirt says INSTRUCTOR: KIM SEOKJIN.
“You are kinda spilling,” Namjoon informs Taehyung.
“Can you blame me?” Taehyung mutters. Namjoon reaches out to use his thumb to wipe away the slick of spit at the corner of his mouth. “Unfortunately, no,” he admits. “Who is that guy?”
“I mean, it said right there on his shirt. He’s INSTRUCTOR: KIM SEOKJIN. In capital letters.”
“I’ve never seen him here before. I would have noticed, trust me.”
"Honestly if you’d told me about him sooner, I would have been more than happy to accompany you.”
“Hey!” Namjoon protests. “Whatever happened to supporting each other’s hobbies?”
“I’m very supportive,” Taehyung insists. Then, “Can we go get some waffles to eat now? And maybe see if this guy has an Instagram page or something?”
“We’re here to do yoga,” Namjoon protests, though it sounds weak even to his ears.
“You’re here to do yoga,” Taehyung corrects. “I’m here because you fucked a promise out of me to come with you, remember?”
LAST FRIDAY, 10 PM — INTERLUDE
“Hyung,” Taehyung moans. “I wanna come.”
“Fuck,” Namjoon pants, “Yeah, baby? You want to? What will you do for hyung?”
“Please,” Taehyung gasps, shimmying his way down Namjoon’s cock in a slow, dirty grind. It drags out so much more this way, and he loves it, loves Namjoon’s wet mouth against his ear and his warm hands cupping his ass. “I’ll do anything, fuck, I just wanna come.”
“Taehyung-ah,” and here Namjoon demonstrates how far out he’s truly thought about his plan by sitting Taehyung right down on him and not letting him move, “you don’t get to come unless you say yes to what I’m about to ask you.”
“Wha—?” Taehyung squirms, trying to lift himself up to fuck back on his boyfriend’s fat cock as said boyfriend does his darnedest to keep him still. This is an abrupt turn from Namjoon’s usual dirty talk, which mostly consists of him calling Taehyung baby until he busts his nut (it’s highly effective). “What the fuck, hyung,” he whines, “let me move,” and when he clenches, hard, Namjoon almost gives in.
“Will you be good for me, baby,” Namjoon pants, hands gripping Taehyung in place so tightly he’s sure to bruise later on. He lifts Taehyung up until just the tip of his cock is inside and holds him there, then slowly inches him back down, and lifts him up again just as Taehuyng’s whines get louder. Namjoon has a ridiculously big dick, so this is torturous, making Taehyung’s eyelashes flutter with the strain. “Say yes and I’ll let you come.”
“This is supremely unfair,” Taehyung complains. “I’m in a compromised position.” To prove his point, he pushes down, but Namjoon is surprisingly a lot stronger than he looks, and he doesn’t get very far.
“Do you want to come or not,” Namjoon asks, swiveling his hips so that his cock is worked just the tiniest bit back into Taehyung. It’s nowhere near enough.
“Fucking hell, fine,” Taehyung hisses. There are tears in his eyes and he just wants to come so bad , and deep down he knows Namjoon wouldn’t ask for anything unreasonable. Anyway, a small part of him thinks this is kind of hot, actually, Namjoon controlling him like he’s a helpless doll, maneuvering him however he liked on his dick. “Yes, yes, just fuck me already!”
“Whatever you want, baby,” Namjoon says, and lets go so that Taehyung can sink down onto his entire length just as he thrusts up at the same time. It takes literally five seconds, and then Taehyung is spilling all over their bellies and Namjoon is groaning into Taehyung’s neck as he comes inside him.
The aftershocks of his orgasm ripple through Taehyung, and he feels like he’s floating on a cloud of warm air. He can feel Namjoon trying to slip out so he clamps down, squeezing gently until Namjoon groans a little, and murmurs, “Stay inside for a bit.”
“Oh,” Namjoon says, more than happy to comply. He settles back against the headboard and holds Taehyung in his lap. They make out lazily, and when his fingers drift to where they’re still joined, he can feel his own sticky wetness leaking out around Taehyung’s soft rim. “Mhm,” Taehyung whispers, and his hips jerk a little. “Sensitive.”
“Sorry,” Namjoon says, but he doesn’t move his hand away. He continues rubbing, not really thinking about it, just enjoying the feeling of being close to the love his life, and he almost wouldn’t have noticed what was happening until the tip of his finger slips in beside his cock, tight and wet, and Taehyung whimpers.
“Babe,” Namjoon says, questioning, but also in utter, delighted disbelief. He looks down between them. Taehyung’s more than halfway hard again.
“Yeah?” Taehyung quirks an eyebrow at him, and tosses his head back, sweaty and radiant. He rolls his hips a little, and Namjoon gasps.
“You’re unbelievable,” he says.
“You literally started it by sticking a finger up my butt,” Taehyung says, which—he’s not wrong.
“I love you,” Namjoon says, “and your butt.” Slowly, he wriggles his entire finger in. “You wanna ride me?”
Taehyung nods, too overcome to say anything, and when Namjoon adds another finger and crooks them just so, he’s pretty sure he blacks out with pleasure for the next twenty minutes.
Afterwards, when they’re lying in bed and Namjoon is running a damp cloth over both their bodies, Taehyung asks, “Oh, by the way. What was it that you blackmailed me for my orgasm?”
Namjoon pauses. “Firstly, you must understand it was the only way I could have gotten you to agree,” he says, and Taehyung goes a little pale. “Secondly, it’s my choice for date night next week. Or date morning, rather. We’re doing hot yoga, baby.”
“Wow. I'm seriously reconsidering if that orgasm was worth it,” Taehyung says finally, eyeing his soft cock sadly.
“That is super hurtful,” Namjoon says, flicking him on the arm.
“Just kidding. Probably. I think the second one preemptively made up for it. Your fingers are magic.”
Which is how they end up, almost exactly one week later, here.
SATURDAY, 11AM — HOUR 3
In the end, Namjoon agrees to ditch the yoga mat for online espionage. He is too damn amenable these days, but he’s always been for Taehyung, he supposes. Plus, it’s rare that they both have their eye on the same person. For some reason, even though they’re obviously attracted to each other, they never find the same people hot. Until now.
At home, crouched in front of Namjoon’s laptop, they learn that Seokjin doesn’t have an Instagram, but he does have a YouTube page. A very active one.
“Oh my god,” Namjoon breathes out. The thumbnails that populate his page are not overly risqué (“He can’t risk getting demonetized,” Taehyung informs him sagely), but they do highlight Seokjin’s finest features: a close-up of his triceps, his hands perched on an absurdly trim waist, a smoochy kiss-face (what yoga move involves that?). Taehyung is not even looking at what the videos are about — he simply clicks on the first one that’s about thighs or something and suddenly the screen is filled with Seokjin in all his lean-limbed, smooth-skinned glory.
He’s not mean at all in the video. In fact, he smiles a lot, which is disconcerting, considering how he’d looked at Taehyung like he was a dirty sock and somehow made Taehyung kind of love it. He’s in a relatively tame pair of pastel pink leggings, except that said leggings are extremely well-fitting, and leave almost nothing to the imagination. He’s also shirtless.
“That’s unnecessary,” Namjoon points out. It’s a video on leg exercises, after all. No chesticles involved.
Taehyung clicks play. Seokjin runs through the exercises he’s going to do casually, and then does them. Nothing crazy or complicated. Then he sinks into a pose and arches his arms over his head and okay, Taehyung understands why he’s shirtless now. The muscles in his back move under his skin like oil rippling through water, and Taehyung cannot look away from the single line of sweat that’s making its way down his spine and into the divot of his lower back.
“So that definitely was necessary,” Taehyung says when the video is over. “Also, I’m hard and I don’t know how to feel about it.”
Namjoon coughs. “I mean, same.”
They look at each other appraisingly.
They should have stopped there, should have just dealt with their boners like normal couples do. Instead they click on a video with an admittedly clickbaity title — 5 YOGA MOVES THAT CAN SPICE UP YOUR SEX LIFE — and proceed to spend ten minutes in an increasingly horny silence as Seokjin cycles through ludicrous poses, ending with something called a plow pose — which, the joke makes itself, but the joke’s also on them, because by the end of it Taehyung’s hand has wandered over to Namjoon’s crotch and Namjoon is spreading his legs for him.
Taehyung turns his head to the side to get a better angle. He squints. “You know, I think he could reach his own dick he wanted to,” he says. He squeezes Namjoon’s, as if to make a point.
“Tae, I’ll never be bendy enough to do that,” Namjoon says. He pulls his boyfriend closer, hips already pressing forward eagerly.
“Good thing you don’t have to suck your own cock when you have me to do it for you,” Taehyung says, and leans over Namjoon’s lap.
“Oh, god,” Namjoon moans. His hands land in Taehyung’s hair and his eyes slip close. Taehyung’s tongue is magic, working its way up and down his length, swirling at the very top, just the way he likes it. He means business.
It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time for Namjoon to come, spurting white all over Taehyung’s lips as he pulls off at the very last moment. He always liked it messy.
“C’mon,” Namjoon says, tugging impatiently at Taehyung’s pants to get his cock out. It’s already hard and leaking, and Taehyung doesn’t say anything, just drops his head onto Namjoon’s shoulder and whines, needy and soft, as Namjoon jerks him off.
Taehyung comes all over Namjoon’s hand, and it’s silent for a while, until a tinny voice says from their laptop, “And that’s it for this video, everyone. Thanks for coming!”
“Fuck,” they both groan in unison.
SATURDAY, 1PM — HOUR 5
If pushed, Taehyung will not admit to their being late to lunch with Yoongi and Jimin because they had been too busy getting off to Seokjin’s workout videos.
“I thought yoga ended at 11,” Yoongi complains when they’re finally all there, some sweatier than others. “How the hell are you guys late?”
“Um,” Taehyung says. His resolve is weakening with every second Yoongi looks at him with the void that is his gaze.
“We got sidetracked,” Namjoon says.
Yoongi says, bitingly, knowingly, “Heathens.”
Jimin just raises his hand to fist-bump Taehyung. He knows every sordid little detail, of course. Best friend privileges, though Taehyung doesn’t think anyone else would agree with the term “privileges.”
“I’m so happy your relationship is thriving,” Jimin says. “Emotionally, mentally, sexually.”
Yoongi grimaces, the exact same way Namjoon swears Yoongi’s granddad had grimaced, back when they were kids and he thought they were being utterly stupid but also impossibly cute. “Jimin-ah, stop enabling them.”
“Don’t sulk, hyung,” Jimin says. “Here, open up.” He brings a spoonful of rice to Yoongi, who dutifully opens up. Wonders will never cease.
Lunch is great and fairly typical of their weekly meals, except this time the four of them are meeting all together for the first time in a month because Yoongi had been in Daegu visiting family. Taehyung is just about to launch into another story when Yoongi says, “Okay, fun-time with Yoongi is over. You guys have to scoot.”
“Wait, why can’t we stay?” Taehyung protests.
“Because we’re meeting an old friend of mine in, like, ten minutes,” Yoongi says matter-of-factly. “Not my fault you guys were late! He just moved to Seoul and wanted to catch up.”
Taehyung: “I still don’t see why we can’t stay! I love making friends.”
Namjoon: “Hyung, you didn’t even bother switching locations to meet another friend?”
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Why should I? I’m just trying to be energy-efficient here,” he says completely shamelessly. “Anyway, I don’t think you guys would be that interested. You don’t have much in common. All we do is talk about fishing and weird old man stuff.”
“Hyung, don’t call yourself an old man,” Taehyung cries. “You’re still pretty!”
“I know,” Yoongi says.
“Yoongi-hyung is really selling Seokjin-hyung short here,” Jimin interjects. “I met him when I went to Daegu and he’s a riot.”
Taehyung frowns. That name...what if...no, it couldn’t be...
“Say, hyung,” he asks, sounding super casual. “What did you say your friend’s name was again? Seokjin?” Next to him, he can see Namjoon’s eyes widening. Sometimes he could be so slow.
“Yeah. Kim Seokjin.” Yoongi narrows his eyes. “What.”
“What does he, uh, do for a living?”
“He ran his family’s strawberry farm,” Yoongi says, and Taehyung hears the past tense, “but now he’s a yoga instructor. Again, I ask: what.”
“Oh my god,” Namjoon blurts out. “Your Seokjin is our Seokjin.”
“Okay, hold on,” Taehyung says. “We need visual evidence. Hyung, do you have a photo of him or something?”
“No, because I don’t keep photos of my friends on my phone,” Yoongi grumbles. (“Just me,” Jimin says with a wink, and everyone smirks when Yoongi blushes.) “But he has a YouTube channel where he—to be honest, I don’t know. I’ve never watched it. I presume he does yoga. Here.”
He taps on his phone and turns the screen to Taehyung and Namjoon. It’s a familiar video. They watched it two hours ago. This time they actually catch the title — TEN EXERCISES FOR THOTTY THIGHS 🦵🔥😈— and somehow it’s even worse (if by worse you mean disgustingly hot).
Taehyung screams a little.
“Okay, it’s definitely him,” Namjoon says, with a dry gulp. Quickly, he pushes the phone back to Yoongi so he doesn’t get a weird Pavlovian boner and prays Yoongi doesn’t ask too many questions.
“What the fuck,” Yoongi says. “He’s only been in the city for, like, three days. Please don’t tell me you two seduced him or something—”
“Us, seduce him?” Taehyung shrieks. “Have you seen Seokjin?”
Yoongi looks at him dead-eyed. “Yes, obviously.”
“He’s a perfectly normal human being. Except he’s also a giant idiot.”
Namjoon gapes. “Normal?"
Taehyung whispers, “Hyung, he’s so hot.” Everyone, perhaps wisely, ignores him.
"Okay, I don’t have time for this. He’s going to be here in like three minutes. Did you guys fuck or not?”
“What! No! We just ogled him from the sidelines like two creeps!”
"That’s kind of beneath you, Taetae,” Jimin says, patting his hand.
“Shut up, Chim, I know,” Taehyung groans. “I’m like 90% sure I saw his balls, which is honestly so serendipitous I should have just gone for it, but it was too late.”
Yoongi stares at Namjoon. “How are you okay with this?”
Namjoon shrugs. “I’d want to see Seokjin’s balls, too.”
“But fate has given us a second chance!” Taehyung continues. “Hyung, you have to introduce us.”
“No,” Yoongi says.
“No,” Yoongi says again.
Yoongi pauses to think. “You know what, I don’t actually have a good reason. It’s not like he’s a bad person or anything, and you two are...you two. I think I just don’t want to, because if I facilitate this...attempt at an orgy, I will have to hear about it for the rest of my years from all three of you, and that’s just not how I want to live my life.” He sits back, quietly satisfied.
“Now that’s hot,” Jimin says, and Taehyung snatches his hand back, betrayed.
“Three people is not an orgy,” Namjoon supplies. “It’s a throuple, a triad, a trio if you have no decency, or if you want to be all metaphorically religious about it, a triptych.”
“You forgot threesome,” Taehyung says helpfully.
Yoongi exhales loudly through his nose. “Goodbye!”
“This is not the end of it,” Taehyung vows.
And it isn't. Because they’re utter morons, they linger outside the cafe, trying not to look too suspicious. It’s worth it when they finally lay eyes on Kim Seokjin again. Outside of the highly specific setting of a hot yoga class, he looks, if possible, even more phenomenal. Longish hair swooped back from his forehead, plump lips juicy with some kind of lip balm, broad shoulders stretching out the back of his white top. On the front of his t-shirt is a cartoon drawing of a whale. Namjoon sighs dreamily.
“We have to meet him,” he says finally, after they see Seokjin go in and greet Yoongi by punching him in the arm. Amazingly, Yoongi does not retaliate, just winces and even offers a smile.
“Don’t worry, I’m on it,” Taehyung says, typing furiously on his phone. “Chim’s got our backs. He loves love.”
“You mean he loves hearing gross stories about our sex life,” Namjoon corrects.
“Sure,” Taehyung concedes. “Now let’s go home and plot. We have a big fish to reel in.”
SATURDAY, 4PM — HOUR 8
(At some point in the up-to-now hypothetical discussion of what they would like to do to Seokjin, Taehyung turned to Namjoon and said in an uncharacteristically serious tone, “Hyung, would we really do this? Do you want to? It’s fun for me now, but I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”
Namjoon smiled. They’d talked about this at length when it first came up in college, when Taehyung admitted, teary-eyed and blubbering, that he sometimes entertained...thoughts...of their hot next-door neighbor, not that he would ever do anything, he just got all shy and flustered around him and then felt awful about it because didn’t that mean he didn’t love Namjoon enough? And Namjoon had to sit him down and tell him that that just meant Taehyung had a lot of love to give, and that it was fine with him as long as they talked about it first. In the end, Taehyung had never taken up Namjoon on his offer to open up their relationship that way, probably because he’d never felt the need to take it past flirting with anyone else that intrigued him. In the end, he always came back to Namjoon.
So, now, with Seokjin, it felt different — was different — because Namjoon was clearly interested too. “I’m having fun,” he said. “And I’m curious to see where this goes, to be honest. He’s really, really hot.” He tilted his head and looked his boyfriend up and down, contemplative. “I would love to see him wreck you. I would let him.”
Taehyung shivered, speechless and more than a little turned on.)
At exactly 4:01PM, just as they’ve given up hope, Taehyung’s phone pings. He sits upright. “I got a text from Jimin,” he says. “He says he’s going to help us live our truth even if it means disobeying Yoongi-hyung. He gave us an address. They’re having dinner there at eight; Jimin made the reservations—for five.”
“So does that mean…” Namjoon says.
“Yes,” Taehyung says. “We need to get hot, now.”
SATURDAY, 8PM — HOUR 12
“Getting hot” involves, basically, throwing on their sluttiest outfits — black leather pants with a thigh garter attached and a billowy, silk shirt for Taehyung; a sleeveless muscle tee and tight white pants for Namjoon — and a handful of glitter over everything. It’s a little over-the-top for the quiet, home-style restaurant Yoongi’s booked for dinner, but at least they have a private booth so nobody stares at them too much.
The funny thing is, they get there before Yoongi, Seokjin, and Jimin do. So when Yoongi walks in, he is, to say the least, not expecting to see Taehyung and Namjoon there with their hands in their laps and too-big smiles on their faces. Smiles that painfully say “Please forgive us and go along with our plans.”
“What,” he says, which is not helpful.
Seokjin doesn’t say anything, just eyes them with curiosity. There’s no recognition in his gaze, though, which Taehyung doesn’t know if it’s a good or bad thing. It’s certainly not very flattering, he sniffs.
“Taehyungie! Namjoon-hyung,” Jimin says, flopping down onto an empty seat beside them. “You guys got here early!”
“Jimin,” Yoongi says, and Taehyung has never heard a single word sound so much like an omen before.
“Hyung, the more the merrier,” Jimin says valiantly, turning around to pout at his boyfriend. “I thought Seokjin-hyung might like to make some new friends too.”
Seokjin doesn’t object, just smiles mildly at Yoongi, who after a staring match with Jimin, and an intensely annoyed glare for Taehyung and Namjoon each, sighs.
“Fine. Please don't make me regret this. This is Taehyung and Namjoon,” Yoongi says. “My two idiot friends. And this is Seokjin, my other idiot friend.”
Seokjin turns to them and gives them a perfectly polite smile. “Nice to meet you both.” His smile widens. "I like the glitter."
Oh my god, Taehyung thinks. Seokjin really doesn’t remember them. How embarrassing. But maybe it’s better this way; they can start afresh, without the sight of the shadow of Seokjin’s ballsack tainting their burgeoning relationship.
Sometime in the middle of dinner, Seokjin’s YouTube channel is brought up. Namjoon’s hand clamps down on Taehyung’s thigh and he tries not to fidget too much. They don’t say anything, obviously because they aren’t supposed to have known about Seokjin before this dinner, but then Seokjin offers up, entirely of his own accord, “Yeah, I figured out quickly that if I take off my shirt in my videos, the views go up, like, an average of 30%. Which is honestly worth flashing a nip or two for.”
(Quietly, by the side, Jimin: “A nip or two? Where is the uncertainty coming from?”)
“Wow, that’s a great way to maximize profit,” Namjoon says. “Nips going once, twice, cha-ching!” It’s a supremely odd thing to say. Everyone turns to look at him like they think it’s a supremely odd thing to say.
Except for Seokjin, who slaps his hand onto his thigh empathically and produces a very loud sound that Taehyung will later realize is laughter. “A man after my own heart,” he says, still snorting. “You are exactly right, sir.” And then he shoots finger guns at Namjoon and winks. It’s all very cheesy.
Oh, no. Taehyung actually likes him now. And from the half-bashful, half-constipated look on Namjoon’s face, so does he.
Two hours and three pitchers of soju later, everyone is kind of sloshed and Taehyung has slyly touched Seokjin’s arm at least seven times. He thinks he’s making it pretty obvious but perhaps it’s also slightly confusing because Namjoon has an arm slung around the back of his chair and reaches over to pat his thigh occasionally. They hadn’t said they were boyfriends, but Yoongi has always said they exude a very obvious couple energy, whatever that means.
Taehyung thinks maybe it’s time for Namjoon to get some action with Seokjin. His boyfriend doesn’t do this — flirt with other people who are not him —very often, but Taehyung can tell when he likes someone, and he definitely likes Seokjin. There’s only one way to get Namjoon to loosen up enough, though. Luckily, Taehyung has got that covered.
“We should go to the club,” Jimin announces suddenly. (Well, that’s not entirely true. Taehyung texted him one minute ago thusly: Jiminie, tell everyone we going 2 to the club.) Surprisingly, before the masterminds of this whole enterprise can chorus their agreement, Seokjin says, “I’m so down.”
Yoongi looks each of them in the eye and then throws his hands in the air. “Absolutely nothing is going as I planned today, so why change now. Half of us aren’t even dressed appropriately, but sure.”
Namjoon grins, unaware of Taehyung’s plotting. “Hyung, the important thing is that the other half of us are,” and really, Taehyung thinks, that is just impeccable logic.
SUNDAY, 12AM — HOUR 16
It’s 12AM and Taehyung is nicely tipsy, and even happier because now he doesn’t have to continue drinking anymore to feel good. He’s alone, which is not as nice; he has to find his friends. And his boyfriend. And Seokjin, who is not his boyfriend but also, he thinks, definitely not his friend. He doesn’t know what he is yet, and honestly he can’t wait to find out.
When he stumbles back onto the dance floor, he sees Yoongi sitting by himself on a high table, sipping at a gin and tonic, staring intently at something in the crowd. Taehyung plops down next to him and is about to ask where Jimin is when he follows Yoongi’s line of sight and sees what he’s looking at.
Ah. Jimin always loved to dance, and Yoongi, it seems, is perfectly content watching him. “Pretty Jiminie,” Taehyung murmurs. His best friend is so talented; Jimin is in the middle of the dance floor, the beads on his shirt making him glitter like a snake in sunlight, moving rhythmically and in total control over his own body. It’s honestly quite something.
Yoongi glances over at him. “He is pretty, but that’s not the word I’d use to describe him right now,” he says dryly.
“How lecherous,” Taehyung teases.
“Fuck off, I know Jimin tells you everything,” Yoongi grumbles. “Go and find Namjoon and Seokjin. They’re out there somewhere and probably missing you.”
“What, both of them?” Taehyung laughs.
“Yeah,” Yoongi says simply, and levels a significant look at him. Taehyung thinks this is the closest he will get to a blessing, so he’ll take it.
“Thanks, hyung,” he says, smooches a wet, shy kiss on Yoongi’s forehead before he can protest, and flees.
Through the throngs of people, he finds them eventually. What he sees is a pleasant surprise, and that in itself, pleasantly surprises him.
Taehyung dances with more enthusiasm than talent, but he wouldn’t say he’s an untalented dancer. Back in the day he and Jimin used to bust out the moves all the time, and then he got spiritually married to Namjoon, and boring. Just kidding. He doesn’t think the spiritually married life made him boring, just happier. Anyway. Namjoon is kind of the opposite. He can dance — he can follow a beat, and move his limbs in a fairly coordinated manner — but it always takes Taehyung the better part of a night, or a scandalous number of promises as to what Taehyung will do to him in bed afterward, for Namjoon to loosen up enough to actually give his ass even the slightest shimmy.
So the first thing Taehyung wants to know when he sees Namjoon and Seokjin getting it down some earsplitting EDM blaring over the speakers is how the hell Seokjin managed to convince Namjoon to groove. Taehyung suspects it’s because Seokjin is moving in a completely unhinged way, whipping his arms and tossing his head like an absolute terror, and this display has tricked Namjoon into thinking that he has to chaperone their dear companion lest he elbow someone in the face.
Then Taehyung gets closer, and he sees Namjoon laughing, grabbing Seokjin’s wrists to spin him around, and he wonders if maybe the trick all along had been to make dancing a silly thing, instead of a sexy thing.
Seokjin is a genius. He’s never seen Namjoon that carefree in a club before. Taehyung could kiss him, honestly. He could kiss the both of them.
With that little realization in mind, he slips in next to them and says, “Hey, boys.”
“Tae!” Namjoon cries. “Baby.”
"Hey, lover,” Taehyung says, giving Namjoon a quick, filthy kiss before turning to face Seokjin. “Hey, handsome.” He licks his lips, which are probably wet and shiny with spit, and stares at Seokjin until he looks away.
"I’m gonna go find Yoongi,” Seokjin demurs, taking a step back, which, no, that is the opposite of what Taehyung’s little display was meant to achieve. “Leave you two to it.”
“No, stay,” Taehyung says, hooking his foot behind Seokjin’s calf to tug him forward. Guess he just has to be more direct, then. Seokjin stumbles and puts out a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder for balance, blinking. “Trust me, you’re better off leaving Yoongi-hyung and Jimin to it.” He does something vulgar with his mouth, and Seokjin honks with laughter.
It’s a thoroughly surprising and ghastly sound, and Taehyung is, once again, delighted. Beside him, Namjoon is giggling too. Seokjin rolls his eyes but doesn’t take his hand off Taehyung’s shoulder.
In fact, he thumbs at the base of Taehyung’s neck, just a soft, searching pressure, until Taehyung arches his neck to give him better access. From beneath his lashes he can see Seokjin’s gaze darken. Ooh, Taehyung likes this. He likes this a lot. Smoothly, he turns to face Seokjin and presses back against Namjoon until he feels his boyfriend’s arms circle around his waist. Namjoon’s head rests on his shoulder, right next to where Seokjin’s hand is, and Taehyung can’t see from this angle, but he’s pretty sure he can feel Namjoon drop a kiss onto Seokjin’s knuckles. Ugh, he’s such a romantic.
A set of slower, jazzy songs come on, with just enough of a deep bass that Taehyung can throw his head back and move his hips the best way he knows how: messily, but enthusiastically. From how close Namjoon is plastered to his back, and the weight of Seokjin’s gaze on him, he thinks it’s working. Everything feels good, from the pulsing of the lights to the pulsing of blood through his veins and the incipient possibility of something unspooling between the three of them. Fuck, now he’s starting to sound like Namjoon. He laughs a little at that, and when Seokjin leans in to ask what’s so funny, he giggles and says directly into his ear, “This is just really hot. And I like you. We like you.”
“Oh, do you?” Seokjin asks, an indulgent smile curving his lips up.
Taehyung nods. “Mm. And we’ll prove it.”
For a second he wonders if he’s promising too much, the booze in his system making him overly forthright and foolish, but Namjoon squeezes his hip and adds, “Our apartment’s not far, if you wanted to hang out for a bit.”
Seokjin’s eyes flash in the half-darkness. He looks thoroughly intrigued. “Sure,” he says, and he’s the one who turns to lead them off the dance floor.
SUNDAY, 2AM — HOUR 18
When they stumble out of the club, Namjoon suggests they walk back to their place. It’s close enough, forty minutes if they stroll, and it’ll give them time to clear the alcohol buzz from their heads.
They walk in near silence for a bit, Taehyung breaking the quiet to point out pinpricks in the sky and come up with elaborate backstories for these metropolitan constellations. Namjoon says, “You know we can’t see any real stars, babe, the light pollution’s too bad,” and Seokjin adds, “But it’s nice sometimes to pretend. What’s the harm, in this very moment?”
Namjoon looks like he’s about to protest, but there’s something in the assured tilt of Seokjin’s head, and the way he has his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his jeans, as if he simply would brook no argument, that has Namjoon subsiding with a rueful half-smile and a mumbled, “I guess you’re right.”
Taehyung thinks, maybe Namjoon should be the one getting wrecked by Seokjin.
“So how did you two meet? What’s the story?” Seokjin asks after a while, kicking at some rocks as they follow the path down the length of the river.
“Should I tell it, or do you want to?” Taehyung asks, bumping shoulders with Namjoon.
“You go,” Namjoon says. “I know you like to.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Taehyung says. “It was the year 2012. We were in college. Namjoon signed up for an art class to fulfill a requirement and had no idea it involved nude life drawing. Enter me: enthusiastic model. I think I made eye contact with Namjoon and then suddenly he was fountaining all over his work station.”
Seokjin’s eyebrows furrowed worriedly. “Fountaining…?”
“Giant. Anime. Nosebleed,” Taehyung says in delight, clapping his hands together. It’s a fond memory for him. Not so much for Namjoon, who’d subsequently failed the class. Not for the nosebleed, but for his admittedly botched attempts at depicting the form of the human body. “I went up to him with paper towels and he pushed me away and got blood all over my chest. I think he forgot I was still totally naked at this point.”
“So it was love at first sight?” Seokjin teases.
“No,” Namjoon interjects. “I apologized to him the next day. And then we didn’t speak for like two weeks until we bumped into each other at a furry party.”
“We bonded over atheism—”
“I wouldn’t say bonded,” Taehyung interjects. “You were so annoyingly anti-theistic.”
“And you loved playing Devil’s advocate—or, God’s advocate, rather, even though you weren’t even—”
“Anyway,” Taehyung says loudly, with a grand gesture for silence. “It was a party for furries on campus. Very low-key, as you know, since society isn’t exactly open to that sort of thing. We had a heated debate over the pros and cons of organized religion—never reached an agreement on that, by the way—and then we had extremely heated sex in an empty bedroom, and ta-da! We’ve been together since then. Modern love, baby.”
At this point, people normally look slightly perturbed, or concerned, and ask if they really got together over fursonas and existential debates over the existence of God. But Seokjin just looks at them with an unreadable expression in his eyes and says, “So you two have been together for, what, seven years?”
“Yeah,” Taehyung says, and grins at Namjoon.
“That’s lovely,” Seokjin says. “You two are great together.”
“We are ridiculous,” Namjoon points out. “That was a ridiculous story.”
Seokjin smiles. “And is that so bad? If it’s true?”
“How are you so wise,” Taehyung breathes.
“Your brain chemistry alters on a cellular level once you hit thirty,” Seokjin says very seriously. “You can never go back.”
Taehyung and Namjoon both squeak: “You’re thirty?”
Seokjin’s grin this time is more than a little smug and very, very sexy. “Just don’t ask me how long I’ve been thirty.”
SUNDAY, 3AM — HOUR 19
By the time they get back to the apartment, they’ve more or less sobered up. Okay, well, maybe “sober” is generous, Taehyung thinks as he watches Namjoon kick off one shoe and try to untie the laces of the other shoe with his toes. He’s about to go over and help him when he hears an exasperated sigh and sees Seokjin kneeling on the floor to help work the shoe off Namjoon’s foot.
He’s not so drunk that he misses the way Seokjin’s hand lingers on the curve of Namjoon’s calf, the way he squeezes, once, before letting go.
“Thanks,” Namjoon mumbles, before shuffling to the couch and flopping onto it belly-first.
“Water?” Taehyung asks Seokjin.
“That would be great, thanks,” Seokjin says, going over to sit on the armchair opposite Namjoon. There’s plenty of space on the couch, Taehyung notices.
He gets them all water and sits down next to Namjoon. “Up, babe,” he murmurs, ruffling Namjoon’s hair. He hears Seokjin clear his throat behind him before he takes a sip of water. Namjoon groans melodramatically and whines when Taehyung tugs a little more sharply on his hair. “C’mon, don’t be a big baby. You need water.”
“You’re the baby,” Namjoon grumbles nonsensically, but he gets vertical and slurps loudly from the cup Taehyung hands him. Then he collapses his chin onto Taehyung’s shoulder and wraps his arms around him from behind. His cheek is hot against Taehyung’s, and the solid weight of his chest against his back comforting. It would be so easy to relax into Namjoon, but Taehyung has a plan and he means to execute it.
Seokjin is staring like he knows he should look away but doesn’t want to, which coincidentally is exactly what he’s doing right now. As Namjoon, who is hideously touchy after a few drinks, snuffles against Taehyung’s neck, Taehyung watches Seokjin cross his legs, uncross them, and cross them again. He’s holding his cup very precisely.
Taehyung is pretty sure his boyfriend is sober enough to realize what he’s doing, and to realize that it is also something that Taehyung is doing, because one of his hands, splayed across Taehyung’s belly, starts to wander underneath his shirt, hot and smooth against Taehyung’s skin. Namjoon opens his mouth and licks a long stripe up Taehyung’s neck, which in any other context would be disgusting, but in this one is just super fucking hot.
It is so obvious, Taehyung thinks, the way Namjoon is acting, the way he is parting his own legs, the way Seokjin, if he were a Normal Friend with Normal Friend Intentions, would be hightailing it out of here by now, but he’s still there, rooted to his seat, staring. Taehyung thinks they’re all the same page, or at least in the vicinity of the same chapter, but the problem is that Seokjin is just sitting there, not doing anything.
The tension is unbearable. Taehyung cannot be the only one who’s feeling it, as palpable as the slow red thudding of his heart and his head and, if he’s being completely honest, his dick. He hasn’t touched anyone or touched himself and he’s already to go. He just needs to get Seokjin over here.
Someone do something, he wants to scream. Nobody does anything. Namjoon stares at Seokjin and Seokjin stares at Namjoon.
Fuck it, Taehyung thinks. He wriggles out of Namjoon’s grip and gets on all fours on the floor.
“Hyung,” he says, looking at Seokjin. “Help me stretch.”
“What?” Seokjin blinks, looking flustered.
“My legs are really sore,” Taehyung says. “Help me?”
“Um, okay,” Seokjin says with a quick glance at Namjoon, who’s looking at them through heavy-lidded eyes. He doesn’t seem all that upset that Taehyung isn’t up there with him anymore. “Where does it hurt?”
“Hips,” Taehyung says. He’s not lying; they are sore from a whole night of dancing.
“Right,” Seokjin says. “You’ll want to get onto your—um, back, then.”
Taehyung rolls over easily. Blinks up through his fringe at Seokjin, who’s kneeling on the right beside his face. “Now what?”
“Bring your right leg up, first,” Seokjin says. “Knee touching your chin, if you can.”
Obediently, Taehyung lifts his knee to his chest, keeping the other leg straightened out. There’s a nice ache, and it’s even better when Seokjin places a hand on his shin and his other arm across Taehyung’s chest and pushes down.
It’s an utterly innocent thing, really, but there’s something about the way Seokjin is looking at him, leaning down closer than he needs to, the warm weight of his hands on his already overheated body, and the delicious burn of deepening the stretch that makes Taehyung release a small, whimpering sound.
Seokjin freezes. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Taehyung says, a touch breathless. “Feels nice. The other leg?”
“Right,” Seokjin says, and lets go.
This time when Taehyung touches his left leg to his chest, it’s hard for Seokjin to reach over to help. He’s trying to lean across when Namjoon says, “Hyung, that looks hard. You should try from the front.”
Okay, Namjoon is definitely on board. Taehyung catches his eye over Seokjin’s shoulder and winks. Namjoon just smiles.
“The...front?” Seokjin asks carefully. Namjoon nods, and jerks his head towards the space between Taehyung’s legs.
This is the most flustered Taehyung’s ever seen him and he’s frankly delighted; he suspects it’s in part due to Namjoon watching them silently from the couch, watching as Seokjin puts his hands all over his boyfriend.
Slowly, Seokjin shuffles his way to where Namjoon indicated. Taehyung moves his right leg out wider so there’s more space, and plants his left foot gently against Seokjin’s sternum. He has to resist the urge to simply wrap both legs around Seokjin’s waist and tug him forward. Careful, careful. He doesn’t want to spook Seokjin.
Beneath his foot, Taehyung can feel the slow in-and-out of Seokjin’s breath. He doesn’t think he’s imagining how it speeds up when Seokjin clamps one hand down on his leg and presses forward. Taehyung closes his eyes and exhales, tries to relax his body, and lets Seokjin bend him in half.
He opens them again when he feels Seokjin’s hand skim up his leg to wrap around his thigh. Seokjin is right on top of him, so close that his chest is touching Taehyung’s knee and he has his other hand planted flat on the ground next to Taehyung’s head for balance. The firm grip around his thigh tightens, dangerously close to where Taehyung can feel himself growing half-hard, and he wonders if Seokjin knows, wonders if the lightest brush of his finger on the inside juncture is on purpose.
“Feels good?” Seokjin murmurs, eyes fixed on Taehyung.
“Yeah,” Taehyung says, and it comes out more like a breath than a coherent word.
“Good,” Seokjin says, and presses down harder. Taehyung gasps, unable to stop himself, overwhelmed by how small he feels caged in by Seokjin, how hot and hard Seokjin’s body feels against his, and oh shit, is that Seokjin’s knee bumping up against his ass, he must know what he’s doing, his hand is so close to Taehyung’s cock—
Namjoon clears his throat, and Seokjin jumps like he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He retreats immediately, and Taehyung almost whines out loud at the sudden loss of contact. Seokjin sits back on his heels, wary, while Taehyung stays sprawled on the ground. He lets his legs fall open and just hopes his boner isn’t super obvious. He doesn’t think he needs it to make his point anymore.
“Hyung,” Namjoon says, standing up, and for a split second Taehyung worries that he’d read the signs all wrong and that Namjoon is actually pissed. He sees Namjoon’s eyes flick downwards—and Taehyung notices that Seokjin’s pants are looking at little tight, too. Then Namjoon says, “Give me a go, too?”
From behind Seokjin’s head, Taehyung mouths fuck yes at Namjoon. His boyfriend ignores him, but when he settles down on the floor beside them, he runs his hand through Taehyung’s hair and lets him rub against his palm.
Seokjin stares. Finally, he says, “How do you want it?”
Namjoon, the devious little bastard, says, in a totally casual tone of voice, “I’ve always needed help mastering the downward dog.”
“Oh my god,” Taehyung whispers, but he doesn’t think anyone hears him.
“Oh, really?” Seokjin says conversationally. “That’s a classic.”
“Mhm,” Namjoon says. “I have tight quads, so it’s always been hard.”
“Well, get into position then. Let’s see what we’re working with.”
Patiently, Seokjin adjusts Namjoon. He touches Taehyung’s boyfriend differently. Where his grip had been straightforward and hard on Taehyung’s body, just the way he liked it, with Namjoon it’s a gentle press to the shoulder, a light nudge to the hip. Namjoon moves where he’s bid and doesn’t complain. It doesn’t seem like much — Taehyung wonders if this could possibly be as good for him as it had been for Taehyung, but then he looks closer and realizes that his boyfriend is trembling. And when Seokjin trails the tip of his finger up the entire length of Namjoon’s leg to rest just beneath the curve of his ass, Namjoon gives a full-body shiver.
Taehyung had thought it was never with enough to actually be satisfying, and it’s only now that he’s realizing that’s kind of the point.
“Hyung,” Namjoon says at last, voice faltering only just the slightest. He shifts on the balls of his feet, testing the stretch of his thighs. “Am I doing good?” Taehyung swears he can see Namjoon arching his back minutely, sticking his ass up in the air.
“Almost there, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin murmurs. “Just have to—adjust your stance. Here.” And then he steps behind Namjoon, one leg in between where Namjoon has his feet planted on the floor and uses his thigh to nudge his legs apart.
Namjoon’s right leg buckles slightly, and Seokjin immediately reaches out with a hand to steady him. Only that leaves his hand firmly on Namjoon’s ass. His thigh is still pressed right up against where Taehyung’s pretty sure Namjoon’s balls are. Abruptly, he realizes that he’s so hard, if either of them looked over now, they would be able to see his erection tenting his pants.
But Seokjin is totally focused on Namjoon, and Namjoon frankly seems to be using up all his brain power to stop from pushing his ass back into Seokjin’s hand like Taehyung knows he wants to. Slowly, his mouth dry, Taehyung watches as Seokjin moves, unmistakably, to cup Namjoon’s ass in both of his hands.
Okay. Touching someone’s butt like that, even if it’s through their pants, is definitely a line that you have to knowingly cross. And Seokjin’s just crossed it. Definitively. No more games now. Namjoon doesn’t say anything, just lets out a breathy gasp.
“Fuck,” Taehyung says, as Seokjin spreads Namjoon wider.
Then Seokjin turns to Taehyung. He looks directly at Taehyung’s hard-on and smirks. Then, in a more serious voice, he asks, “Is this really okay?” and they all know what he’s referring to. Namjoon says, “Yes,” and Taehyung says, “We like you, hyung.”
“Okay, then,” Seokjin says softly. When he makes eye contact with Taehyung, a slow smile spreads across Seokjin’s face, and he winks.
And then Seokjin raises a hand and slaps Namjoon on the ass.
Namjoon makes a frankly undignified sound. Taehyung gasps, and is instantly at least 20% harder. He’s pretty sure he instinctively thrusts up into the air, which is embarrassing.
“You need to concentrate harder on keeping your form,” Seokjin tells Namjoon as if he hadn’t just spanked him, as if he isn’t, right this second, rubbing his thumbs precariously close to Namjoon’s hole through his pants. “Don’t get distracted. Just focus on your body.”
“R-right,” Namjoon says. He’s shivering a little, head hanging low as he tries to plant his feet back flat on the ground. The long line of his legs is wonderful to look at, the shifting of his muscles obvious underneath his pants.
Gone is the shy, unsure Seokjin who’d looked at them wide-eyed and asked if they were high school sweethearts. Taehyung thinks: now this is INSTRUCTOR: KIM SEOKJIN. Fuck. Yes.
“You think you can take another?” Seokjin asks, in a tone of voice that feels like he’s asking for a push-up rather than a spank.
“Y-yeah,” Namjoon says.
“Good boy,” Seokjin says calmly, and Taehyung’s mouth drops open just as Seokjin delivers another hard slap. Namjoon’s entire body jerks forward, and he has to visibly wrangle it back into place.
Seokjin barely gives him time to rest before he’s saying, “Now, just five more, okay?” and going for it without even waiting for Namjoon to say yes.
“You’re doing so well, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin says serenely, after he’s done and Namjoon’s whole body is quivering. “Do you want hyung to give you a massage? We can’t have you cramping up now, can we.”
“Right,” Namjoon replies, voice breathy. “Can I get up now?”
“Yeah, why don’t you take off your pants and lie down on the couch,” Seokjin says with a friendly pat to Namjoon’s bum, as if he hadn’t spent the last ten minutes spanking him. He sounds so calm, Taehyung would be convinced he was unaffected, except for the very distinct bulge in his pants as he steps away from Namjoon and sits down.
“Taehyung,” he says, and Taehyung jerks at the sound of his name. He’d almost forgotten he was a part of whatever this was, too. Now a twin lick of fear and desire runs down his spine when he locks eyes with Seokjin. “Come sit by Namjoon.”
Taehyung gets up from the floor and collapses onto the couch, legs spread wide, mouth dropping open, waiting for instructions. And then Seokjin sits himself directly on top of Namjoon’s thighs, crotch nestled dangerously close to his ass, and presses his thumbs into the small of Namjoon’s back. Namjoon’s groan is instantaneous, as Seokjin works his way up his back and then down, kneading his cheeks — which Taehyung can see from where his underwear’s ridden up is faintly red — and pressing down on his upper thighs.
“Fuck,” Namjoon breathes out, and then, “fuck,” more empathically, when Seokjin palms his back, leans forward, and rolls his hips purposefully against Namjoon’s ass.
“Oh, hyung,” Taehyung says in delight. He leans back against the arm of the couch, unable to decide where to look first: Seokjin rhythmically grinding against Namjoon, or Namjoon open-mouthed and dazed with pleasure, a wet spot forming on the sofa where he’s drooled a bit.
Both of them look up at the same time, and fuck if that isn’t hot: his two hyungs, writhing against each other, hot and heavy. He reaches for his cock, too impatient to wait for either of them to touch him, but he’s barely finished a stroke before Seokjin makes a disapproving noise. “Don’t touch yourself,” he says. When Taehyung whines, he adds, “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving you in the lurch.” He looks down at Namjoon, who is starting to hump down on the sofa.
“I think you should help Taetae out,” Seokjin suggests. “Taehyung, take off your pants. And underwear. Let hyung see you, yeah?”
Taehyung has never shucked his clothes faster. By the time his underwear comes off and his cock springs out, Namjoon has gone hazy-eyed with desire and Seokjin is looking at him very intently. “Come here and let Namjoon suck you,” he orders, one hand on the back of Namjoon’s neck and the other on the couch by the side of his head, leverage for the way he’s leaning over Namjoon and slowly, slowly, keeping his hips moving forward. Taehyung scrambles forward, then pauses. “Wait—should I,” he says, suddenly oddly shy. “Get lube? From the bedroom?”
Seokjin laughs. Straight up just laughs at him. “Someone’s presumptuous,” he says. “You looking to get fucked tonight, Tae?” He has his head cocked insouciantly, like he could stay in this position all day while watching Taehyung and Namjoon squirm, and Taehyung frankly has no shame, so he says, “Yeah, definitely. Please, hyung. Want Namjoonie-hyung to fuck me. Want you to fuck me too.” For a split second, he falters. Looks at Namjoon, who is looking at him. “Hyung—” he starts, and they all know he’s not talking to Seokjin.
“It’s okay, baby,” Namjoon says, licking his lips. “You think you can take the both of us? Want me to stretch you out for Seokjin-hyung?”
“Jesus, yeah,” Taehyung hisses, gripping the base of his cock as it jerks involuntarily.
“Blasphemous,” Seokjin says, but it’s entirely affectionate. “Go get the lube, then. I’ll take care of Namjoonie here in the meantime.” He pauses. “Condoms?”
“We don’t use them,” Namjoon mumbles.
“No, of course not. I meant, for me—”
“We’re good if you’re clean,” Taehyung interrupts. “Right, hyung?”
Namjoon nods blearily.
Seokjin looks startled, then, improbably, his face turns a light shade of pink. “I’m clean,” he finally says. Taehyung doesn’t say anything, but he smiles and runs off to get the lube. He really does know how to pick them.
When he returns, bottle in hand, he almost drops it on the floor. In the twenty seconds he’d been gone, the rest of Namjoon's clothes have come off. So have Seokjin’s. He’s rubbing the head of his cock, shiny with precum, in between Namjoon’s ass almost idly, like he’s got all day, while Namjoon has his head buried in his arms, shoulders shaking.
“Oh my god,” Taehyung says, watching the long, pale expanse of Seokjin’s thighs flexing against Namjoon’s tanned skin, and the rude, filthy jut of his flushed cock appearing and disappearing from between his cheeks. “Is this how massages normally go?”
Seokjin raises an eyebrow, takes a hold of his dick, and slaps it against Namjoon’s ass a few times. It’s loud and obscene and has Taehyung scurrying over and practically throwing the lube at him. “You complaining?” Seokjin asks, and Taehyung says, “Only that neither of you have touched me yet.”
“We can fix that,” Seokjin says, and gets up. Namjoon lifts his head and says, “Wanna fuck you, baby.”
“That’s more like it,” Taehyung grins. He gets onto the couch and pulls Namjoon in for a kiss until his boyfriend is moaning into his mouth, and then turns around and arches his back. “C’mon, I’m ready.”
Namjoon and Seokjin both look vaguely scandalized. “Fingers first,” Namjoon says. Taehyung rolls his eyes. Okay, so he’s a little impatient, but he also likes it to hurt a little, and Namjoon knows that. He’s about to protest when Namjoon adds, “Hyung, help me?” and Taehyung can’t help but make a noise.
“Of course,” Seokjin says, and uncaps the bottle to squeeze a giant dollop of lube straight onto Taehyung’s ass. It’s cold, and Taehyung yelps, but then Seokjin is running a finger up and down his rim, and then he feels another finger, which must belong to Namjoon, and oh god, he’s in heaven.
“In me, please,” he says, trying not to whine.
“So polite,” Seokjin laughs, and then slides two fingers in. “And so ready for it. Ah, Taehyung, I can feel you sucking me in.”
“Yeah, I want it,” Taehyung says, and he’s definitely whining now. “Namjoon—” He’s cut off when he feels more pressure, and another finger sink into him, a thickness he’s familiar with, and then they both move at the same time.
He groans, loving the fullness of three fingers and the knowledge that Namjoon and Seokjin can probably feel each other inside him, slick and wet and rough all over. They’re awfully quiet, though, until Namjoon gasps. He turns around and sees Seokjin with a hand around Namjoon’s dick, lube making everything glossy and messy, slowly jerking him off. On every upstroke Seokjin’s thumb digs into the head of Namjoon’s cock, just the way he likes it. Taehyung can’t decide what’s hotter, the obscene girth of Namjoon’s dick in Seokjin’s fine-boned fingers, or the utterly nonchalant look on Seokjin’s face as Namjoon falls apart in front of him.
“Hey, fuck me now,” Taehyung rasps, when their fingers slow and Namjoon tenses up, gasping. “Hyung, don’t you dare come before you fuck me.”
“You’re such a brat,” Namjoon says, but then Seokjin is drawing his fingers out and pulling his cheeks apart. Taehyung can feel his face burning at how his asshole is just on display for the two of them, wondering if they’re both looking at the way he’s clenching around Namjoon’s finger, eager to be filled up even more. “Go on,” Seokjin says, thumb rubbing idly where Namjoon’s finger meets Taehyung’s pucker. “He wants your cock, Namjoon-ah. Look how hungry he is for it, the little slut.”
There’s a loud groan, and it takes Taehyung two seconds to realize that he was the one who’d made the sound, and then it’s all he can do to bury his face in his arms and hide. Namjoon doesn’t really say mean things to him in bed, and he’d never asked, but it’s always something he’s thought about, and to have Seokjin say it so casually, so dismissively, while he’s lying ass up and vulnerable with the two of them just looking, cocks hot against the backs of his thighs—
He is a slut for it, after all.
“Yes,” Taehyung says, blindly reaching back to grasp Namjoon’s cock. His fingers brush against Seokjin’s, and that makes it even better. “Hyung, please fuck me.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Namjoon breathes. “You gonna suck me in, baby? I wanna fill you up so bad. Will you be good and let me?” He positions himself on top of Taehyung and rubs his wet cock against Taehyung’s hole, slapping it against where he still has one finger stroking gently inside. He pulls his finger out and pushes forward even more, so hard that the tip of his cock catches against Taehyung’s rim, almost entering him but not quite.
“Yeah, hyung, get inside me,” Taehyung gasps, hips jerking backwards involuntarily. “Wanna feel you inside, want you to split me open, c’mon—” The end of his sentence tapers off into a whimper as Namjoon slowly, slowly, pushes in. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t let go of his breath until Namjoon’s in all the way, hips flush against Taehyung’s ass. Namjoon gives an experimental thrust, and Taehyung cries out.
“Hold on,” Seokjin says. He’d been quiet while all this was happening, but now Taehyung turns to him and sees that’s moved to sit next to them. He has one hand around his cock, and before Taehyung can comment about how he would like to be fucked, please, and fast, he’s moved forward and oh, shit, Taehyung’s mouth opens almost automatically, tongue out and eyes pleading.
Seokjin laughs even as he holds his dick the barest inch away from Taehyung’s tongue. He wants to scoot forward, but something tells him if he does Seokjin will be displeased. “Eager, aren’t you,” Seokjin says, and then he gives Namjoon a look that Taehyung cannot decipher. Namjoon snaps his hips, hard, and Taehyung is so surprised he jolts forward, and his lips brush against the head of Seokjin’s cock. Before he can close his mouth around it, Namjoon is pulling him back and ramming into him again; he can feel his boyfriend’s grip on his ass and his cock throbbing inside him, and Taehyung wants to collapse on his elbows and let him fuck him silly.
But he also wants Seokjin in his mouth. And by the high, questioning arch of Seokjin’s eyebrow, the only way he’s going to get it is by letting Namjoon fuck him onto Seokjin’s cock.
Taehyung stays on all fours and obediently stretches his mouth wide.
Namjoon builds up to a steady pace, the sound of his balls slapping against the back of his ass with every thrust, driving Taehyung forward so that he manages to get his lips and tongue on Seokjin’s cock for the briefest of moments before he’s being jerked back again. It’s not enough. Taehyung’s pretty sure he’s drooling, he wants his mouth to be stuffed full so bad.
“Please,” he finally says, when a particularly hard thrust allows him to wrap his lips around the entirety of Seokjin’s head for a good few seconds. “Seokjin-hyung, I need your—ah, I want it—”
“Use your words, baby,” Seokjin says. “What do you want?”
“Want your cock in my mouth,” Taehyung whines. “Want you two to fuck me from both ends.”
“So needy,” Seokjin coos, but he obligingly shuffles forward and feeds his cock into Taehyung’s mouth. It’s almost embarrassing how eagerly Taehyung latches on to it, coating the head with his saliva and making sure he’s covering every inch of the shaft with his lips. He’s so focused on the cock in front of him, he cries out in surprise when Namjoon resumes driving into him, and then he’s choking on Seokjin’s dick from the force of Namjoon’s thrusts, and he stops thinking for a while.
His entire face is wet from spit and lube and precum and he’s never felt better, his mouth and hole being used by two cocks chasing their own pleasure. Taehyung doesn’t even recognize the slow, languid build of pleasure until he’s mouthing mindlessly at Seokjin’s dick and reaching with one clumsy hand for his own cock. And then someone — probably Seokjin — slaps his hand away and says, “Don’t come, Taehyung. Can you do that for us, baby? Can you hold it in while Namjoonie here finishes inside you?”
Taehyung moans. He wants to come, is right on the edge of it, but he wants to be good even more, wants to milk Namjoon’s cock and be a good boy so he nods and clenches down, holds it while his boyfriend pulls his ass cheeks further apart, angles in deeper, and humps into him. It takes all of his concentration to not come, to focus on squeezing Namjoon’s cock even tighter into his heat, until he hears Namjoon say, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” and then he can feel Namjoon’s warmth spilling inside him as he bears down on him, hips twitching to fuck his cum deeper inside of him.
When Namjoon pulls out, panting, Taehyung can feel his cum trickling down his inner thigh. It’s utterly dirty and so fucking hot, especially when Namjoon uses a finger to collect it and shove it back into his hole. Taehyung whines then, tries to sit back down on Namjoon’s finger, but it’s gone as quickly as it entered him. When he looks askance at his boyfriend, Namjoon just smiles and licks his finger clean. “Love you, babe,” he says, and Taehyung can’t really stay mad at him after that.
“My turn,” Seokjin says, and then Taehyung is being manhandled, flipped onto his back with Seokjin crowding him from the top. “How’re you feeling, Tae?”
“Like I need to get fucked, hyung,” Taehyung says petulantly. He gets two fingers circling his rim for that, and then without warning Seokjin is pushing in, curling his fingers, hitting his prostate immediately.
Taehyung groans, but he’s cut off when Seokjin sticks another two fingers into his mouth.
“Love how you’re drooling for me, baby,” Seokjin says, his cock grinding wet and slow against Taehyung’s. “You made such a mess the first time I saw you, too, looking at me so dumbstruck on the floor.”
“Wait, what—” Taehyung manages to get out before Seokjin’s pushing his fingers in even deeper. Next to them, Namjoon groans. “You knew? You recognized us from hot yoga?”
"Yup,” Seokjin says, popping the ‘p’ triumphantly. “Please. As if I could forget.”
Namjoon makes a vaguely mortified noise. “You lied!” he accuses, but he doesn’t sound that offended.
Seokjin says, “This was before I realized you two were trying to trap me in a threesome, and then after that I was just waiting for the right time.”
“‘Trap’ makes it sound so sleazy,” Namjoon says.
“So did it work?” Taehyung asks, garbled. He licks at Seokjin’s fingers playfully.
“What do you think?” Seokjin asks, and thrusts into Taehyung in one clean slide.
Taehyung would wail if he didn’t get the breath knocked out of him. Seokjin is big inside of him, stretching him wide, and he starts slow, fucking into him painfully slow and deep, until Taehyung’s head is lolling to the side and he feels too boneless to even try to fuck back down onto Seokjin’s dick.
“Fuck, you feel good,” Seokjin pants, grinding forward with his entire body. “So tight, Taehyung-ah. Feel so hot around my cock.”
“Hyung,” Taehyung whines around the fingers still in his mouth. Seokjin pulls them out then and wraps his wet hand around Taehyung’s cock, ignoring the small shriek that comes from Taehyung when he tightens his grip and strokes him. “Hyung, please, faster. Harder. Need it.”
“Namjoon, are you hearing him?” Seokjin asks, ignoring Taehyung’s pleas. “Your boyfriend wants me to fuck him faster, harder. Why don’t you jerk him off while I give him what he needs, hmm?”
“Yeah,” Namjoon breathes out, and then his hand is replacing Seokjin’s around Taehyung’s cock and he’s pulling his hand up and down his length, the friction of his palm against Taehyung’s sensitive skin too much to bear. “Fuck, baby, you’re doing so good. You were made to be fucked, yeah? Fucked sloppy with cum—”
“I can see Namjoonie’s cum on my dick,” Seokjin says, and Taehyung feels him press against his rim with a finger even as he continues thrusting in him. “Can feel it on my cock and all over inside you. You’re so dirty, Taehyung-ah. Our dirty boy.” He lifts Taehyung’s hips a little and the next thrust finds his prostate. Taehyung spasms, gasping.
“Yes, yes, fuck,” Taehyung sobs. He’s so ridiculously close, has been close since Seokjin helped him into a fucking hip stretch, and Seokjin’s right, he can feel Namjoon’s cum inside him too, lubing up Seokjin’s dick, and it’s too hot, his whole body is too hot, he wants to fucking come, he’s going to—
“Namjoon, get your hand off his dick,” Seokjin says sharply, and then the delicious pressure on his cock is abruptly gone and Taehyung does wail this time. Namjoon’s hand is still around his dick but he’s holding it in a loose circle, and Taehyung can’t do anything but try to piston his hips upwards into it but it’s not working. He tries to fuck himself back onto Seokjin’s dick, but Seokjin says, “Don’t fucking move,” and he stops, quivering. He thinks he’s crying. “No, no, please,” he cries. “Hyung.”
“I want you to beg,” Seokjin says, both hands grasping his inner thighs and spreading them apart so he can thrust in harder, smoother, rolling his hips so deep until he’s hitting Taehyung’s prostate every single time. “Beg if you really think you deserve to come, Taehyung-ah.”
“I wanna come,” Taehyung sobs, as Namjoon mouths at his nipple and holds his cock loosely in one hand. It’s too much. “Please, please, I’m already begging, hyung, please—”
“You love getting fucked this much?” Seokjin asks, punctuating his question with a particularly hard thrust; it shoves Taehyung so far up the couch his head hits the side of the arm. Taehyung nods; he can feel tears gathering in the corner of his eyes, and his whole body is on fire — Namjoon’s mouth, wet and warm on his chest, the light roughness of his palm around his dick, putting nowhere near enough pressure on it, and of course, Seokjin’s cock inside him, hitting that sweet spot again and again, while he writhes in pleasure that is both too much and not enough.
“Yes,” he says, and he thinks it sounds more like a gasp than anything coherent. “Yes, please, I’m just—a b-baby, a slut who wants to get fucked, hyung, please, let me come. I just wanna—”
“Since you’re asking so prettily,” Seokjin says, and then suddenly Namjoon’s hand is tightening on his cock and Seokjin is pressing him even wider open, and Taehyung’s eyes are rolling back in his head from how fucking good it feels.
Something soft meets his lips and—oh, Namjoon’s kissing him, licking inside his mouth and biting his lip, while he works his hand on Taehyung’s cock and Seokjin fucks into him, thighs smacking against his ass with every thrust.
“I’m gonna come,” Taehyung gasps, eyes scrunching shut.
“Look at us,” Seokjin commands, and when Taehyung blinks, they’re both staring at him, Namjoon sideways as he presses a kiss onto his belly, Seokjin with a piercing, intense gaze as he grinds his hips, once, twice—
Taehyung convulses when he comes, shuddering on Seokjin’s cock and jerking in Namjoon’s arms. He hears Seokjin hiss out a curse as he squeezes around him, but he’s too far gone to care, the pleasure rolling through him in waves as white spills onto his belly and all over Namjoon’s hand.
“Good boy,” Seokjin says, still languidly working his cock inside Taehyung. “You came so well for us, Taehyung-ah. Felt so good feeling you clench around me.” He’s still hard, and Taehyung whimpers, oversensitive.
“Hyung, you haven’t...” he says, pouting.
“Mhm,” Seokjin says as he gently pulls out of Taehyung. He rubs the heavy head of his cock across Taehyung’s rim, and honestly if he didn’t feel so damn raw Taehyung would have let Seokjin continue fucking him. “Are you gonna do something about that, then?”
There’s a challenging but indulgent look in his eyes as his gaze flickers from Taehyung to where Namjoon is casually licking Taehyung’s belly clean. Namjoon pauses, looking at Seokjin with his shoulders gently rising up and down and his chest flushed all the way down to his thick, lube-shiny cock, and says, “We’ll suck you off, hyung. The both of us.”
Namjoon doesn’t wait for Seokjin to agree before he sinks easily onto his knees.
Seokjin hesitates. “You sure?” He reaches out a hand to cup Namjoon’s jaw, his thumb pushing gently against his bottom lip, this gentleness incongruous with the insistent bob of his hard cock between his legs.
“Me too,” Taehyung says, rolling off the couch in an untidy heap before settling on his heels. “C’mon. Stand up. Want you to come on my face.”
“Hey, you have to share,” Namjoon grumbles, elbowing his boyfriend.
Seokjin starts laughing so hard he has to clutch his belly. “Don’t worry,” he finally says, wiping at his eyes. “There’s plenty to go around.”
He stands up, strokes his cock lazily. Taehyung can’t take his eyes off it, slip and slide of Seokjin’s fingers around his length mesmerizing. “Who’s first?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Me,” Namjoon says, and leans in to fit the entire head of Seokjin’s cock in his mouth. He sucks at the top, hollowing his cheeks, while Taehyung licks up and down the remainder of Seokjin’s length that he can’t reach. When Namjoon pulls off, his plump lips are slick with spit and precum, and he doesn’t give Seokjin time to react before he’s going back in, opening up so that he can fit almost all of Seokjin’s length down his throat. Taehyung noses at Seokjin’s balls, swirling his tongue around them and sucking at them when Seokjin hisses out a string of curses.
Taehyung’s always known his boyfriend was a bit of a cock slut, to be honest; he just rarely gets to play the role since Taehyung himself is even whinier about it. He’s glad that Seokjin is here now — he can take care of the both of them.
It doesn’t take long for Seokjin to come. He doesn’t warn them, and the fact that he just expects them to take his load reignites something hot in Taehyung’s belly. They only know he’s about to when he grunts and the hands in their hair tighten; and then Taehyung sees the length of Namjoon’s throat working as he swallows. Namjoon pulls off at the last minute, gasping, eyes closed, and Taehyung thinks this is the hottest thing he’s ever seen: the last ropes of Seokjin’s cum landing on his boyfriend’s fat, red lips and pink tongue, and then Seokjin’s cock, still swollen and leaking the last remnants of white, smearing it all over his cheeks, pushing some of it back into his mouth. Namjoon looks totally blissed out, eyes glazed as he licks Seokjin’s cock clean obediently and sucks on the tip until Seokjin gently retracts it.
“Fuck,” Seokjin says, using a thumb to wipe the edge of Namjoon’s mouth clean. Namjoon chases after it, lips closing around the digit, and Taehyung thinks he’s never seen his boyfriend this fucked-out before. “You two are amazing.”
“Likewise,” Taehyung says, with a wet kiss to the tip of Seokjin’s dick. He gives it an experimental suck, and Seokjin whines, the most needy he’s sounded the whole night. Taehyung smiles, and Seokjin, flustered, pulls him off with a firm but gentle hand in his hair. “Don’t be bad,” he warns. Taehyung files this information away for later. Today Seokjin ran the show, but he’s determined to make him fall apart sooner or later. Wouldn’t that be a sight.
“I’m gonna get us some towels,” Namjoon says. He stands up and stretches, then shuffles into the bathroom.
“That was so good,” Taehyung sighs happily, crawling onto the couch to lean against Seokjin’s shoulder. He feels him tense momentarily, and wonders if Seokjin is opposed to post-coital cuddling, but then Seokjin relaxes and brings his arm up around him.
“Yeah,” Seokjin agrees. “Thank you for inviting me over.”
Taehyung smacks Seokjin on the chest. “You just had your dick in me and you came all over my boyfriend’s face — which was blisteringly hot, by the way. Do not talk like you’re my dad’s middle-aged friend.”
That gets a rueful laugh from Seokjin. Namjoon comes back and wipes all of them down, even gets the spot of cum dotted on Seokjin’s forehead (none of them can figure out whose it is or how it got there, which they find pretty funny).
“Our bed’s big enough for three,” Namjoon says when Seokjin starts fidgeting in a way like he’s trying to seem totally casual but is failing.
“Oh,” Seokjin says neutrally. “Hm. Cool, that’s cool So, uh, should I—?”
“Yeah, hyung,” Taehyung says, rolling his eyes. “Stay.”
“Brat,” Seokjin tsks, but he’s smiling.
SUNDAY, 8AM — HOUR 24
When Taehyung opens his eyes, Seokjin trying to leave.
He hasn’t noticed that Taehyung’s awake yet, is sitting up shirtless and staring at Namjoon, who is lightly snoring with half his face smushed into his pillow, with a soft, serious expression.
Suddenly, Taehyung can’t breathe. When Seokjin turns his gaze on him, he squeezes his eyes shut and pretends to still be asleep. He can feel Seokjin looking at him but can’t see his expression, can’t tell if it’s as achy and sweet as the way he’d looked at Namjoon, but then he feels a hand in his hair and the barest pressure as Seokjin sweeps his fringe back from his forehead, and Taehyung makes up his mind.
Seokjin gets up to leave and Taehyung reaches out to grab his wrist.
“Fuck!” Seokjin yelps.
"Sorry,” Taehyung whispers, peeking out from beneath his blanket cocoon. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You should go back to sleep,” Seokjin says, though he makes no attempt to free himself from Taehyung’s grasp. “I’m just gonna head out.”
“Why?” Taehyung frowns.
“Um,” Seokjin hedges. Taehyung has never seen Seokjin hedge before, and although they’ve only known each other for twenty-four hours, he gets the feeling that Seokjin is not the hedging type. “It’s the day after? I thought this was just proper one-night stand etiquette.”
“Is this a one-night stand?”
“Well technically it’s morning, now,” Seokjin says inanely.
Taehyung raises his eyebrows and tugs. Seokjin lets himself fall back down closer to him. “Do you want it to be a one-night stand?”
“What I want doesn’t really matter, does it,” Seokjin says snippily. Taehyung can tell he’s uncomfortable, but he’s also turned around to face him now and doesn’t complain when Taehyung rests his head on his thigh to look up at him. “This is three-person situation and I’m only one vote.”
“I think you know what my vote is,” Taehyung says.
“Taehyung, I have no idea what you’re asking,” Seokjin says, and he sounds worn-out and, possibly, improbably, just a little unsure. “I don’t know what you two want—I don’t know what I want. I—simply do not know.”
“Stay and we can figure it out together,” Namjoon says, and they both startle. Taehyung hadn’t notice Namjoon rouse. Namjoon sits up, leans down to kiss Taehyung on the cheek, one hand coming to rest on his waist, then looks at Seokjin and asks, very calmly, “May I?”
Seokjin is wide-eyed and wondrous. Taehyung, still lying down between the two of them, presses a damp kiss into the crook of Seokjin’s knee. “Say yes, hyung,” he whispers against his skin.
“Yes,” Seokjin says, sounding a little breathless. Taehyung looks up just in time to see Namjoon lean forward, grip Seokjin’s chin in one hand, and kiss him on the mouth.
Taehyung’s heart is beating wildly in his chest, and he isn’t even the one having the living daylights kissed out of him by one Kim Namjoon. Seokjin’s hands come up to rest on Namjoon’s shoulders, and he gasps when Namjoon bites down on his lower lip, the hand on his jaw coaxing his mouth open wider. It’s sticky and wet and loud and Taehyung can’t stop staring up at their tongues and lips moving together. He snakes a hand down his briefs to cup himself.
When he makes a sound, they break apart, and turn to look down at him.
“Oh?” Namjoon says, raising a brow. “Is baby feeling left out?” His eyes follow Taehyung’s hand under the covers, and he laughs.
Taehyung blushes, and moves to take his hand out, but Namjoon stays him with his own hand.
“Don’t stop on our account,” he says lightly. “I would love to watch.”
“Wait,” Seokjin says, before Taehyung can continue (because, obviously, he was going to continue). “Before we proceed to have what I’m confident will be an excellent morning fuck, I need to know what’s happening. What are we doing here? Are you guys in an open relationship?”
“No,” they both say immediately. Seokjin’s face falls.
“But that doesn’t mean we can’t—that we don’t—” Taehyung struggles to articulate what he’s trying to say. He and Namjoon don’t do this. They’ve never fucked other people, together or separately, but Seokjin is different. They both want Seokjin—together. Only together.
“We’re not open in the sense that we don’t sleep around with other people outside of our relationship,” Namjoon says carefully. “But that wouldn’t be an issue, would it, if you were part of our relationship.”
He lets that sink in a little, before he continues, “You don’t have to say yes or anything right now, obviously. But…if you’re interested in this—in us—we could start by going on a date.” He shrugs, looking almost shy.
Seokjin looks flummoxed. It’s a new Seokjin expression, one that Taehyung has never seen before. He tucks it away for safekeeping; his collection of Seokjin facts is growing fast, and he finds he likes that. After a good five seconds, Seokjin says, “Well. This has been an extremely backward courtship, but I suppose it makes for a good story.”
“I’ll show you a good story,” Taehyung says, and shimmies out of his underwear.
Namjoon bursts out laughing. Taehyung pouts. “It’s bad form to laugh at your boyfriend’s seduction attempt,” he says.
“I won’t laugh,” Seokjin says, and leans down to kiss Taehyung’s pout away. It makes Taehyung’s breath hitch, the soft press of Seokjin’s lips against his, oddly tender in contrast to the rough fucking he'd given him last night. Gently, Seokjin moves his mouth against his own, tongue flicking out to lick across the seam of Taehyung’s lips, and he just melts.
“Not bad for a first kiss,” Taehyung says when they pull apart, breathless and trying not to show it.
Somehow, from the way Namjoon and Seokjin share a glance and start giggling, he doesn’t think he’s succeeded. He’s always worn his heart on his face, after all.
SATURDAY, 9AM — HOUR ∞
“Hyung,” Taehyung asks, trying not to sound as put-out as he feels, which is not very, if he’s being entirely honest. Old habits just die hard. “Why are we here?”
“Because it’s Saturday, and on Saturdays we do hot yoga,” Namjoon says from next to him, as his entire body trembles with the effort of maintaining a plank position. It sounds like it’s costing him a lot of effort.
"And because after this,” Seokjin says, from where he’s standing in front of them in obscenely tight yoga pants and a sleeveless top, “we’re going to go home and really relax those muscles you’ve worked so hard for this fine morning.”
“You know,” Taehyung says. “I can’t decide if I like your shorts better, or these tights. They leave very little to the imagination, but I quite enjoyed the salacious possibility of an accidental peek with the shorts.”
“You see my balls every day,” Seokjin says, exasperated. “Pay attention! Your form is terrible! You’re being very bad, Taehyung-ah.”
Taehyung stares at him until he gets it.
“Oh, you minx,” Seokjin laughs.
“It’s why you like me,” Taehyung says coyly.
“Can we please focus on the class,” Namjoon says. “Stop flirting! It’s unfair to those of us who’re actually doing the exercises!”
“Feeling left out?” Seokjin coos. “Don’t worry, Namjoon-ah, the next pose will require some hands-on guidance, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“What’s the next—oh,” Namjoon almost chokes when the instructor up front folds into a downward dog position. Taehyung cackles when he sees his boyfriend’s face go blotchy and red as his other boyfriend positions himself behind Namjoon and places a hand on his lower hip.
“This is wrong,” Namjoon whispers with a note of desperation in his voice. “I'll never be able to do yoga without popping a boner again. Stop touching me so sexily!”
Seokjin laughs and slaps Namjoon’s flank gently. “No dice, baby. Like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”
And Taehyung, who hates exercising with the passion of an undying sun, will never stop asking his boyfriends why they torture themselves like this every Saturday. But then again, he thinks as he looks at Namjoon flushing pretty under Seokjin's hands, maybe he already has his answer.