Renjun has learned not to wear pants around the house.
Well, not unless he can afford to have them literally ripped apart because Jeno is an animal and Jaemin likes to piss Renjun off. These days, Renjun finds himself completely forgoing the bottom half of his daily outfit and just wearing his underwear around underneath giant oversized shirts and sweaters. Sometimes, if he feels like being extra annoying, he brings out the silky lace and skirts, but he’s figured out that he should save that for really special occasions, particularly when he forgets to wash the dishes and needs a quick distraction.
All in all, it’s not a bad arrangement. It’s certainly easier and more convenient than anything else Renjun could have attempted with his schedule and general tendencies towards procrastination, and besides, Renjun’s never been too adept at the art of picking people up. That’s Jaemin’s forte, and this way Renjun gets to skip all the awkward small-talk and go straight to more important things.
Although sometimes, he wishes they didn’t skip quite so many parts.
“Shit,” Renjun gasps out in surprise when he feels a familiar pair of hands sliding up his thighs and settling on his ass. He’s sprawled across the living room floor on his stomach, Switch controller in hand and Mario Kart theme song blaring from the TV speakers—in other words, completely unsuspecting and an easy target. Not that Renjun is ever a very difficult target; he swears his dumb roommates are always in cahoots, working together just to mess with him. “Jeno.”
“Yeah?” Jeno hums noncommittally, as if he’s not pushing the hem of Renjun’s hoodie up and his underwear down.
Renjun sighs, subconsciously lifting his hips to help Jeno along even as he complains, “I’m playing Mario Kart.”
“And I’m horny,” Jeno counters easily, like they’re just stating the obvious. Maybe they are. “Chill, you don’t have to do anything, princess. Just keep looking pretty.”
That’s not the point here, and Jeno definitely knows it, that asshole. But still, Renjun deliberately doesn’t safeword out, and maybe it’s because he’s just really weak for that particular nickname. “You have the worst timing,” he grumbles, as Jeno grabs his waist and pulls until Renjun is forced to shift onto his knees, elbows propped up on the floor. His match is starting, but Renjun is a little distracted right now.
“That’s called doing it on purpose,” Jeno says, and Renjun can’t see his face but he just knows Jeno is smirking in that really annoyingly smug way that always makes Renjun want to punch him. Or kiss him. Or both.
He knows it’s coming, but he still can’t help how he jumps when Jeno’s index finger slides up his perineum, already slick with lube. Jeno clearly has an agenda today, one that Renjun would spend more time figuring out if he wasn’t so busy trying to dodge all the banana peels that Peach left behind (that fucking cheater, Renjun swears, he never gets anything good from the boxes—). This endeavor becomes exponentially more difficult when Jeno’s finger dips inside Renjun, sinking all the way up to his knuckle.
Renjun hisses, fumbling his controller. It’s hardly the first time they’ve ever done this, but Renjun still has to take a moment to adjust. Jeno’s hands are bigger than Renjun’s, and he’s also just a jackass who never gives Renjun any warning because he likes watching Renjun squirm.
“You’re loose,” Jeno notes casually, curving his finger with practiced ease and making Renjun whine when he finds that perfect spot within seconds. Maybe it’s magic or maybe Jeno’s just that good, but Renjun swears he’s never found his own prostate as effortlessly as Jeno seems to.
“Yeah, you can thank Nana for that,” Renjun huffs, trying his damned best to focus on his Kart and not the memory of Jaemin fingering him open just this morning while fucking Renjun’s slicked up thighs. He still doesn’t know how Jeno had managed to sleep through all that when they weren’t even being deliberately quiet.
“He does generally make my life easier,” Jeno agrees, pushing another finger into Renjun with little to no issue whatsoever. Renjun is finding it increasingly challenging to navigate Rainbow Road right now.
“Ah—that’s because—you’re both demons,” he manages, his voice an entire octave higher than normal as Jeno apparently deems him ready enough and pulls his fingers out.
Renjun doesn’t even have time to complain about the lack of anything in him before Jeno is knocking his knees apart and wrapping his hands around Renjun’s thighs. The blunt head of his cock is pushing into Renjun a second later, and it just about knocks all the air from Renjun’s lungs.
“You’re so fucking big, ugh,” Renjun groans, gripping his controller like a lifeline. He’s in last place now, but whatever, Renjun’s kind of busy getting fucked on his goddamn living room floor at the moment. “Can you—can you be more considerate about the rest of us plebeians?”
“I can’t believe you just used the word plebeians during sex.” Jeno leans over to kiss Renjun’s shoulder blade, the line of his abdomen pressed up against Renjun’s back. He’s still pushing in, insistent as ever, and Renjun is slowly starting to lose it. The stretch is so stupidly good, even the slight twinge of pain that spikes up his spine when Jeno shifts inside him feels so good that Renjun can’t help but moan.
“It’s Jeno, actually,” Jeno interjects, sounding so smug and it’s actually just unfairly attractive, Renjun’s so going to punch him later.
Jeno fucking finally bottoms out and then he stays there, abs flush against Renjun’s ass. Renjun whines into the air, beyond words right now because he’s just so full and it’s so perfect and so good and God, he swears he can feel every single ridge of Jeno’s cock inside him and it’s driving him certifiably insane. He wants to arch back into Jeno’s touch, buck his hips, do anything as long as it gets Jeno to fucking move.
“You missed the rocket start,” Jeno informs him idly, sounding amused. In retaliation, Renjun reaches back and pinches him, but then Jeno grips Renjun’s hip bone and switches his angle just a little, his cock grinding into Renjun’s prostate and abruptly Renjun no longer gives a flying fuck about the stupid game or the turtle taunting him on screen.
“Don’t care,” Renjun huffs out, dropping the controller and curling his fingers into the soft rug underneath him. Shit, they’re going to have to dry clean it. Again. “Just fuck me.”
“You’re so needy, princess,” Jeno teases, but by some miracle of God he actually listens to Renjun for once in his life and tightens his grip, dragging himself out of Renjun’s hole and then fucking back in with a sudden verocity that makes Renjun gasp, elbows giving out underneath him until his face is pressed into his forearms, only Jeno’s hold on his waist really keeping him from totally collapsing.
That’s how Jaemin finds them when he walks in a few moments later, Renjun moaning brokenly against his own skin, ass arched up in the air while Jeno pounds him into the floor. “Hello,” Jaemin greets cheerfully, like Renjun isn’t being split open on Jeno’s cock right in the middle of the living room. “I got takeout. The pizza place was closed, but Chenle said the Chinese food on the next block is pretty good.”
Personally, Renjun is in severe deficit of the appropriate mental capacity to care very much about Chenle’s opinion of the Chinese restaurant on the next block. It seems Jeno does not share his train of thought, because he’s slowing down a moment later, a frown in his voice when he says, “Did you get brown rice instead of white?”
“Yes,” Jaemin answers patiently, seemingly totally unbothered by the high whine that bubbles from Renjun’s throat when Jeno grinds up against his prostate.
“And did you stop at the grocery store to get the good hot mustard?” Jeno continues, and if Renjun’s arms didn’t feel like noodles right now, he’d literally launch himself at his idiot roommates and throttle them.
“Of course,” Jaemin insists, sounding offended that Jeno even had to ask.
“And the low sodium soy sauce?”
A pause. “Ah,” Jaemin says.
Jeno snorts, his pace now leisurely and unhurried, almost like he’s forgotten he’s even fucking Renjun. “You always forget.”
Jaemin audibly bristles. “Hey, I brought you food. You can either eat it or shut up.”
“That’s not what you said when I forgot to get the low sodium soy sauce—“
“Excuse me!” Renjun screeches, the frustration frothing in his chest finally reaching breaking point. He gestures manically at the TV screen, where poor Yoshi is sitting all alone in his unmoving kart. “I didn’t abandon Yoshi so you could discuss dinner with your dick inside me.”
“Aw, someone’s a little riled up,” Jaemin coos, wandering over to set the takeout boxes on the coffee table before taking a seat in front of Renjun, fingers winding into his chestnut hair. “Jeno, you made him abandon Yoshi, you monster.”
Jeno shrugs, completely unabashed. “It was easier than you’d think,” he admits, but he’s finally, finally moving properly again and Renjun could literally cry from relief. His eyes slip shut as he lets his body react, shoving his hips back in tandem with Jeno’s thrusts forward and he hears Jeno groan, something that sounds like Injunnie, squeezing Renjun’s thighs so hard that Renjun feels lightheaded.
His hand shifts between Renjun’s legs to wrap around Renjun’s own dick, his fingers so long and warm, wrist flicking expertly as Renjun chokes on his moans, hands scrabbling uselessly against the fur of the rug beneath him. Jeno’s next thrust feels particularly deliberate in its nature, his cockhead brushing right into Renjun’s prostate and it’s unexpectedly just enough for Renjun’s vision to white out, heat fizzling in his veins, crying out as he comes all over Jeno’s hand.
He hears Jeno curse when Renjun tightens reflexively around him, the sound deep and throaty, and it’s not all too surprising when he buries his cock deep and spills into Renjun only a few seconds later. Renjun slumps forward, allowing himself a moment to catch his breath and mourn for his poor Yoshi while Jeno pulls out.
When he finally musters the energy to look up, Jaemin is eating pork dumplings. All casual, right in front of Renjun, like he’s watching a highly entertaining movie. “Want one?” Jaemin offers, and in lieu of a verbal answer, Renjun just opens his mouth.
The dumpling is still warm as he chews on it, struggling himself upright with some difficulty. Jeno reappears with a damp towel and a baby blue plug in hand, handing both to Renjun, who takes them with a grimace.
He’s very aware of both of them watching him carefully as he cleans himself up. Renjun always insists on doing it himself, but ever since that one time he’d been too fucked out and drunk and nearly broke his ankle on the way to the bathroom, they’ve been extra cautious. Renjun winces as he fits the plug into himself—he’d usually just go take a shower, but those stir-fried noodles smell really good and whatever, it’s not like they’ve never seen him do this before.
Then he turns and smacks Jeno across the back of his head.
“Hey!” Jeno whines through a mouthful of carrot cake, looking wounded. “What was that for?”
“I was winning.” Renjun narrows his eyes, pointing at the TV screen where the Mario theme song is playing itself on an endless loop, poor Yoshi still trapped in his kart until Renjun presses A and returns himself to the home screen.
Jaemin snorts, not unkindly. “Were you?”
No, but that’s hardly the right point to focus on. “I regret ever moving in here with you two,” Renjun grumbles, precisely zero real bite in his voice as he reaches for a fork.
“Why?” Jaemin asks, arching an eyebrow in amusement. His voice drops half an octave, the look in his eyes turning sultry and smoldering as he purrs, “Don’t like being our little toy?”
Renjun chokes on the sip of water he’d unfortunately chosen to take right at that moment. Jeno pats his back helpfully, but his chest is vibrating with silent laughter. God, one day Renjun is actually going to asphyxiate because of them and then he’ll have to find some way to write the both of them out of his will.
“I’m not your toy,” Renjun protests hotly, his ears burning. Jaemin shrugs.
“But you like it when we call you that,” he reminds Renjun innocently, which is blasphemy of the highest order and Renjun could sue for libel and defamation, by the way, except for the fact that it’s also just true. And they know it, figured it out mere months after they’d started this whole arrangement that Renjun never comes faster than when he’s being used.
Oh, whatever. Renjun shovels noodles into his mouth and steadfastly ignores Jaemin’s cackling. He’s blushing, but what the hell is Renjun supposed to do about that when he’s roommates with demonspawn?
And if, when they’re done with dinner and bickering over what movie to put on for the night, Renjun sinks to his knees in front of the sofa and lets Jaemin fuck his throat, Jeno’s hand in his hair guiding his mouth down onto Jaemin’s cock, then that’s nobody’s business but Renjun’s, okay.
Fifteen minutes into the single most boring lecture that Renjun has ever attended in his entire life, Jaemin walks into his room.
He looks innocuous enough, whistling cheerily as he flops down onto Renjun’s bed. Renjun spares a second away from the monotonous droning of his professor’s voice through his laptop speakers, glancing over at Jaemin to see what he wants.
Every single alarm bell Renjun has in his arsenal of self-preservation tools starts ringing when he catches sight of the look on Jaemin’s face. His suspicions are further confirmed a moment later when Renjun lets his gaze trail down to Jaemin’s crotch and finds his dick making its presence very obvious in Jaemin’s grey sweatpants.
“Oh, no,” Renjun says automatically, pointing his pen defensively at Jaemin like it’s a weapon. “Go make Jeno suck you off. I’m in class.”
Jaemin arches an eyebrow, leaning over Renjun’s shoulder to observe the doodle of a rabbit and a puppy frolicking in a field of flowers that currently occupies the space where Renjun’s notes should be. “Jeno went to the library. And you’re being a very diligent student, clearly. Is that me and Jeno? It’s cute.”
Suddenly embarrassed, Renjun slams his notebook shut and turns to scowl at Jaemin. “No,” he lies. “And they’re fighting to the death. It’s not cute.”
“Sure,” Jaemin snorts, relaxing back onto Renjun’s bed with his hands behind his head. He looks like he belongs there. Then again, Jaemin somehow makes himself look like he belongs everywhere, even places he most definitely should not be.
Renjun sighs, eyeing the slide splashed across his screen, filled to the brim with words that mean absolutely nothing to him. The number at the bottom reads 2/61, a rather daunting indicator of where the rest of Renjun’s afternoon is headed if he decides not to do anything with it. “What do you want?” He asks Jaemin, who cocks his head and grins.
“Such a good toy,” he purrs teasingly, and white-hot fire sparks in Renjun’s stomach, his bloodstream burning. “Gonna roll over and let me play with you just like that?”
Renjun swallows hard, heartbeat ringing in his ears. The thing about Jaemin is that he’s so very good with his words; if Jeno is all action, rough hands and insistent touch and bruises blooming across Renjun’s pale skin in the shape of his fingers, then Jaemin is all talk, smooth as silk and sweet as honey, knowing exactly what to say to get Renjun right where he wants him.
“Ride me,” Jaemin cuts in, reaching over to grab the lube from Renjun’s nightstand. He pops the cap, wiggling the bottle at Renjun. The hem of his shirt has ridden up to his belly button, revealing smooth skin and a plane of hard muscle that sort of makes Renjun’s brain short-circuit. “C’mon, you know you want to.”
Well, yeah, but as if Renjun would ever admit that out loud. He settles for grumbling indiscriminately under his breath, crawling over to Jaemin and all but snatching the lube from his hand. He pretends not to notice Jaemin staring unashamedly as Renjun kicks his underwear off without preamble and gets one, two, three fingers inside himself. Renjun is usually kind of impatient when he’s doing this on his own, so he’s grabbing for the bottle again within seconds, yanking Jaemin’s sweatpants down and wrapping his slick fingers around Jaemin’s cock.
Jaemin coos at him, annoying as always. “Are you that eager to get on my dick?” He runs a hand up the side of Renjun’s abdomen, bunching the material of his T-shirt in his fist and dragging it up so Renjun can situate himself properly in Jaemin’s lap, thighs spread above Jaemin’s crotch. “Not like that, baby doll.”
Renjun feels the breath hitch in his throat. Jaemin just refuses to give him a break. “Then what?” He manages, crossing his arms huffily.
Jaemin grabs Renjun’s waist, turning him around so that he’s facing his laptop screen, back to Jaemin’s front. “Pay attention in class,” Jaemin tells him, devious and insufferable, and Renjun doesn’t get to come up with a witty reply before Jaemin’s cock is pushing into him.
Renjun shudders, his weight tilting forward as he braces his hands against Jaemin’s thighs. Jaemin’s palms skim up the bend of his spine, settling on Renjun’s hips as he fills Renjun up, going and going until Renjun is breathless, gasping, struggling valiantly to maintain his upright perch on Jaemin’s lap.
Despite Jaemin’s ostentatious concern for Renjun’s education, the way he guides Renjun down onto his cock, fucking Renjun open to the tune of the lecture slugging along in the background, is clear evidence to the contrary. Dizzily, Renjun recalls what Jaemin had mentioned a few minutes earlier, and tightens his hold on Jaemin’s thighs in preparation. “‘M gonna ride you,” he murmurs, feeling Jaemin’s dick twitch inside him at the words.
“Good boy,” Jaemin breathes out, his tone almost reverent as he lets his hands fall from Renjun’s sides, letting the brunette move as he wants. “You do whatever we tell you to, don’t you? You let Jeno fuck you open in the living room, you’re riding my cock in class—you’re really just a doll for us to use whenever we want, aren’t you?”
Renjun whines, his hips shoving themselves down greedily, Jaemin’s words making his entire body feel so warm, like he’s drowning in lava. Fucking Na Jaemin’s mouth, God, that thing should be illegal. “Nana.”
“Yes, baby doll?” Jaemin answers silkily, and Renjun stutters, his eyes squeezing shut as he rides down on Jaemin’s cock, the slick sounds of his ass slapping against the tops of Jaemin’s thighs almost obscene, making even more heat pool in Renjun’s stomach. “Keep going, you’re doing so good.”
Loathe as he is to admit it, the praise goes straight to Renjun’s head and he renews his efforts with vigour, bouncing on Jaemin’s lap, craving more. He can’t remember what his lecture is about by now, but whatever, if he fails this class he’ll just make Jaemin do extra credit for him. In fact, Renjun is so deep in concentration, focused wholly on his task, that he doesn’t even realize when the door to his room creaks open.
“Oh,” Jaemin purrs, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Hi, sexy. You’re home early.”
Jeno snorts, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “You’re in a good mood today,” he observes, eyes straying to where Renjun is straddling Jaemin’s lap, though his hips have now stilled in embarrassment.
Renjun wonders if he can somehow spontaneously combust into flames. Then, screw them, they’ll have to sweep up his ashes and Renjun is definitely coming back to haunt them.
“Can you blame me?” Jaemin smirks, his fingers stroking up the small of Renjun’s back. “Wanna come over and share?”
Jeno hums, and there’s that mischievous glimmer in his eyes that Renjun is all too familiar with, the one that tells him in no uncertain terms what kind of mood Jeno is in right now. “Well, I haven’t used him today yet,” he muses, totally shameless.
The whine that slips through Renjun’s lips is completely involuntary and extremely mortifying, but—fuck. The way they talk about him like he’s not even there, like he’s not sitting on Jaemin’s cock with his legs spread, it just does something to Renjun, makes his head swim, makes him feel like he’s drunk on nothing but Na Jaemin and Lee Jeno.
“Aw, look, he wants it too,” Jaemin coos, languidly rolling his hips up into Renjun just right and drawing a choked-off moan from the brunette’s mouth. Somehow through his glassy eyes, Renjun manages to watch Jeno tug his shirt over his head, revealing the tanned lines of his abs as he makes his way over to Renjun’s bed, and God, that’s so hot, Renjun thinks he might be drooling.
Jaemin wolf-whistles, and Jeno laughs, leaning over to flick Jaemin’s forehead before he shifts onto the bed in front of Renjun. Shit, his lecture is still playing. Suddenly, Renjun is really praying that he remembered to mute himself.
Jeno’s fingers move up to flutter across Renjun’s cheeks, cupping his chin. “You look so pretty split open on Nana’s dick, princess,” he murmurs, and Jesus fucking Christ Renjun swears if Jaemin taught Jeno how to talk like that, he’s moving to goddamn Antarctica and joining a waddle of penguins.
Almost unthinkingly, he reaches out for the fly of Jeno’s jeans while Jaemin grinds up into him lazily, which is just incredibly distracting and makes Renjun fumble with the zipper at least twice more than he normally would. He huffs in annoyance, finally getting it down as Jeno chuckles, his hand winding into Renjun’s curls.
It takes a little work and Renjun’s spine protests the whole time, but he manages to bend his head forward enough to take Jeno’s half-hard cock into his mouth without jostling Jaemin too much. Not that Jaemin seems to mind, either way; Renjun doesn’t even have to look back to know that Jaemin’s watching them, the fucking voyeur.
Jeno hardens so deliciously in Renjun’s mouth, heavy on Renjun’s tongue. Renjun laps at him, unable to help the eagerness seeping into his actions because he’s just so turned on and his roommates are so fucking hot, it’s really just deadly. He sucks Jeno down, letting his throat relax around his dick the way Renjun knows both of them love. Ever since he’d mostly trained his gag reflex out a few months ago, Renjun swears he’s been spending a lot more time on his knees.
It feels so natural when Jeno tightens his grip on Renjun’s hair and bucks his hips, fucking into Renjun’s throat and releasing a low moan. Renjun could tap out if he wanted to, but he thinks he might have to be actually clinically insane to stop now. He closes his eyes and lets Jeno do it, trying to time Jeno’s thrusts with the pace of his hips, grinding mindlessly down on Jaemin’s cock.
He feels Jaemin’s hands wandering, and only has half a second to wonder what he’s up to before Jaemin’s grasping Renjun by the waist and fucking up into him so hard that Renjun’s vision blurs. Jaemin doesn’t let up, dropping his hips and thrusting back up right as Jeno yanks Renjun’s head forward and oh God oh fuck Renjun can’t even think right now, doesn’t have the presence of mind to do anything other than whimper and just take it.
All he can feel is Jaemin squeezing his ass, using Renjun’s body as leverage to thrust up into him; Jeno’s fingers an insistent pressure on his scalp, forcing Renjun’s head still as Jeno fucks his throat. All he can hear is Jaemin murmuring filth, Jeno groaning, baby doll, princess, fuck, and above it all rises the low drone of Renjun’s goddamn General History or Art of the Renaissance or whatever the hell it is lecture.
His orgasm catches him off-guard, mostly because he’s just really fucking overwhelmed and doesn’t even know what he should be paying attention to. It’s a feeling Renjun likes more than he would ever admit to, especially where Jeno or Jaemin could hear him. But even so, it still takes him by surprise, the way his whole body seizes up, tense like a tightrope, before he’s moaning uncontrollably around Jeno’s cock, sheer pleasure licking at his insides as he comes without ever even touching his own dick.
Renjun goes boneless, his whole body trembling as he struggles to keep his weight on his elbows, his head tilted up for Jeno, his thighs spread for Jaemin; he wants them to keep going, keep using him even when he’s oversensitive, until he’s sobbing.
He doesn’t know what he looks like right now, but it must be a sight because Jeno is staring down at him, eyes all hooded and dark, something hungry burning in his expression. “You’re really just a toy for us, aren’t you?” He marvels, grinding his cockhead against the back of Renjun’s throat, and Renjun chokes, unable to help it, tears springing to his eyes on reflex alone. “You’re gonna lay here and take it as much as we want? Jaemin’s right, you are a doll.”
Jaemin laughs, sounding strained as he speeds up his pace, somehow managing to fuck Renjun even harder until Renjun’s just a mess, keening and shoving his hips down, wanting more even as his muscles start to ache, his rim sore from the stretch. “I’m always right, sexy,” Jaemin huffs out, breathlessly. “Fuck, baby doll, gonna make me come. You want that? Want me and Jen to fill you up?”
He’s so sensitive it hurts but God, it’s so fucking good and Renjun just nods, frantically, as best as he can with his mouth full of Jeno’s cock. He hears Jaemin groan and a moment later, warmth bleeds inside Renjun, liquid and sticky. Almost like they’d planned it, and maybe they did, those cahooting assholes, Jeno gives Renjun’s hair one final tug and then he’s coming down Renjun’s throat, carefully cupping the back of Renjun’s neck.
Renjun thinks he might have actually blacked out for a second, because a moment later he’s on his back with no idea how he got there and Jaemin is kneeling next to him with a towel in hand. Blearily, Renjun reaches out and takes it, vaguely registering the frown that colors Jaemin’s face at the action. “Thanks,” Renjun slurs, wincing when his voice comes out raw and wrecked.
“Want me to do it?” Jaemin offers, but Renjun shakes his head. That wasn’t part of their deal, and even though Renjun would like it, he doesn’t think it’s very fair to them.
“Where's Jeno?” Renjun croaks out, gingerly cleaning between his legs and grimacing when his body practically screams in protest. He’s going to be limping for a while, probably.
“Went to get you water.” Absently, Jaemin’s hand smooths over Renjun’s stomach, lightly tugging his shirt down. “You did good, baby doll.”
Against his better judgment, Renjun flushes pink, and quickly tries to mask it with a grumble, “Are you gonna call me that now?”
Jaemin’s lips quirk. “Why? Are you gonna get all hot and heavy whenever one of us says it? ‘Cause hell yeah.”
Renjun rolls his eyes, saved from the affront of actually answering that question (yes) by Jeno returning with a glass of water with a swirly straw sticking out of it. It’s only because Renjun is dead tired that he lets Jeno hold the glass for him, sucking quietly on the straw.
“You okay?” Jeno asks, eyeing the towel on the bed, which Jaemin takes and balls up, chucking it into the laundry bin across the room.
“‘M fine,” Renjun murmurs, exhaustion settling in behind his eyelids. His laptop is gone from the bed, set neatly on his desk with the cover down. He’s kind of grateful for that, actually. “You guys worry too much. I would’ve tapped out if I needed to.”
“With all due respect, princess, you never do anything that you need to,” Jeno points out, a slight smirk in his tone.
“In fact, most of the time you tend to stick it to the man and do the exact opposite,” Jaemin chimes in, sounding amused. Renjun decides not to dignify either of them with a response and instead closes his eyes, giving them a couple of choice fingers.
He very nearly manages to doze off before Jeno’s voice cuts through the peaceful silence like a hot knife in butter.
“By the way, don’t forget we’re supposed to go over to Mark’s place tonight.”
Every single bone in Renjun’s body practically shrivels up in horror and dies.