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“Can I stay over tonight?” Ryeowook murmurs, his mouth just short of being pressed against Sungmin’s ear and his fingers wrapped around Sungmin’s arm. He gives it a not-so-subtle squeeze, relishing the bit of give before the solidity of muscle. For his part, Sungmin suddenly looks much more attentive. A stroke of good luck, because there’s no hiding Sungmin’s assets, and day in and day out… Everyone has their limits. Ryeowook’s in the mood to stretch his. He feels up for a challenge.

“Of course,” Sungmin says, a wicked gleam in his eyes. One blink and it’s gone, a disappearing mirage. But the oasis is real. Or, it will be, later.

When they finally get into the elevator, Ryeowook steps back, the first move. A signal. Sungmin presses only one button, and they stand side by side, his face not giving anything away yet. It’s only once they’re safely in his room that a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Ryeowook was so busy staring at Sungmin’s mouth that the pillow thwacking into his middle nearly knocks him to the floor. He gapes for a moment too long at Sungmin’s mischievous grin - long enough for a second hit to knock him back onto the bed.

“You dirty rat!” He half laughs, half yells, grabbing a weapon of his own and bouncing back up. Unfortunately for his pride, he only manages ineffectual hits when he doesn’t miss outright, hardly moving the stone wall that Sungmin is. Each one only seems to leave him open for a stronger counterattack that increases Sungmin’s delight in throwing him off balance. Ryeowook gets one knockback of a hit in - finally - before the pillow's pulled out of his hands and he's being shoved onto the bed again. He gets a lucky roll in, using the slide of fabric to escape, managing to get on top of Sungmin for one triumphant moment.

Or maybe it wasn’t luck. Maybe it's just experience talking, but he has a feeling Sungmin's going easy on him. Doesn't help much.

Normally, the thrill he gets at the thought of Sungmin's strength is fainter, more of a passing sensation. What he feels when Sungmin flips them over, pinning his wrists down, is no mild breeze. This, right now, this close, is a gust so strong that it could knock him down all over again. He still makes a squirming effort at escaping, even making some progress, but Sungmin's predatory smirk tells the full story. He's toying with Ryeowook. Not only that, but he sinks down, slowly pressing Ryeowook's earlobe between his teeth, humming contently as he pulls him back to the center of the bed.

Playtime is over.

It was unfair to begin with, and it doesn't get any less so when Sungmin shifts one knee from outside to between Ryeowook's to push them apart, the other following suit soon after, then spreading his thighs almost uncomfortably wider with his own. Pressed beneath his weight, firm, just soft enough for comfort, it's difficult for Ryeowook to work up any further desire to fight back. He gasps. One shift, one hard push has it gone entirely, his knees moving back towards his chest of their own accord to let Sungmin position himself more easily still, though they're fully clothed, and he falls prey to that commanding gaze, hypnotized.

Though he has no objection to skipping the preliminaries, he always forgets how easily the tables turn like this. It only happens with Sungmin, but he finds himself irresistibly giving in, playing this game, no matter that he was the one who asked. Every single word he usually has for these situations has fled his mind, leaving only a pleading "fuck me" in its place. He has to wonders if Sungmin read his thoughts when he leans in close and whispers in Ryeowook's ear, "When was the last time you were fucked?"

He stares, breathing already quickening, as he tries to pull together enough coherence to answer. Nothing but a breathy “I…” manages to come out of his mouth before Sungmin nudges his knee against him, gentle but insistent, and words fail him. How is it that he’s lost his composure so quickly?

Sungmin smirks. Nothing so simple should be that arousing.

"I'm sure it was recent enough. Let's change it to tonight," he says, running his mouth along the curve of Ryeowook's ear and down over his neck, making him shiver with so little, at least half anticipation. He doesn't get Sungmin often, but he's always left sated and sore and utterly wordless. If anything is worth the effort, it's giving Sungmin whatever he demands - and it's impossible to mistake it for anything but a demand.

In lieu of words, which have yet to return to him, Ryeowook nods and presses up against Sungmin. He can’t wait another second, but he also can’t move. Sungmin’s reading his mind again, letting him go only long enough to pull off his open button-up and t-shirt, all in one go. A complaint to speed things up is on the tip of of Ryeowook’s tongue, but it disappears when Sungmin’s shirt is added to the pile. He’s mesmerized by Sungmin’s arms, his shoulders, his chest.

“Aah!” Quicker than he can register, the bumpy ride he was suddenly flung onto is over and he’s been stripped bare. In contrast, Sungmin unzips without any hurry, hooks his thumbs into the elastic of his waistband, and pulls down, over one knee and then the other. He seems unaffected by the cold. Or much of anything, judging by the leisurely way he’s stroking his cock. Such a mouthwatering sight is enough to silence any protest Ryeowook might’ve made at being thrown around like a rag doll.

"I don't know if I have anything," Sungmin says, not breaking his stride. Between trying to process his words via gazing into his hooded eyes, Ryeowook sneaks a glance or two at his cock peeking through his fist as he moves. Fuck, if he has to wait another second, he might pass out. Or kill someone.

"Don't care," he groans. “Come on, hurry up, I want it now!”

Sungmin gives Ryeowook a look like his dinner is misbehaving on his plate. With a start, Ryeowook realizes what’s being asked- no, demanded of him. How could he have forgotten? “Please,” he breathes. “Please?”

“Hmmm. Are you sure you’re ready for me?” Sungmin asks, spitting into his hand before resuming. Ryeowook watches him stroke himself a few more times. His cock shines faintly with saliva and precome, and Ryeowook’s sure he’s never been more ready for anything. He's been practicing, breaking out the bigger ones among his collection in preparation, but now, he wants the real deal.

“Yes!” He groans, pulling his knees farther back from where they’d fallen forward while he was… distracted.

Without another word, Sungmin’s pushing into him after what feels like an eternity of waiting. Every nerve ending sings, high and powerful, stretched to their limits like he is. Sungmin licks his lips. Ryeowook stares at his plush mouth and thinks that it looks delicious. Not that he thinks much at all, for the most part, too focused on staying relaxed and the pleasure to come. And Sungmin no longer looks so unaffected, either - he's careful, watchful, but there’s a sense of urgency that wasn’t there before.

Sungmin moves within him with inexorable force, the magnetic pull of the earth itself seemingly harnessed in his motions. Not careless, like a battering ram, but a smooth wave, the tide washing in and back out, some strong pushes, others gentle taps. Whining, Ryeowook tries to squirm, though his arms pinned to his sides make that a fruitless venture from the start. If Sungmin did it just to show that he's completely in control, it was wildly successful. Ryeowook hadn't noticed that happening; still, he concedes it silently. A small price to pay for the wondrous sensation spreading through him.

His feet grow cold where they're now hanging over Sungmin's shoulders, though that, too, doesn't last long. The force intensifies, so the friction does, which in turn leaves him with a touch of discomfort, barely noticeable beneath the fire consuming him from the inside out. Around him, there's Sungmin's heat, panting, and his strong grip immobilizing him, and Ryeowook wants to ask for more, but he can't form a single coherent sound. All too easy to be enraptured by Sungmin above him, eyes falling closed, lips parted, getting almost close enough to kiss again and again as he moves within him.

Utter bliss. Pleasure drowns out his thoughts and his worries, leaving only feeling. All sense abandoned, Ryeowook gives Sungmin every single whimper and curse, every bit of straining for more, anything he wants, anything at all.

Sungmin’s mouthing at the base of his neck, slowing his thrusts to a matching slow pace, when the door opens with a gust of air. He doesn’t stop.

“O-oh, I didn’t… mean to…” Henry stutters, his eyes wide. “I can- get my tuner some- some other time. I'll just... go...” He points vaguely back over his shoulder towards the door, though he’s still staring. Not making any other motion in that direction.

“You’re staying.” Sungmin slows down only long enough to say that. A tug of war erupts in Ryeowook’s chest, broken by an earthquake rumbling out as a moan from the strength of Sungmin slamming into him. Relentless. When he can look again, Henry’s face holds confusion with a hint of something else. Hope? Desire? All Ryeowook knows is that he shouldn’t be going along with this. He’s sure of that. And yet, he is. And yet, he feels a bit like he’s going to explode on the spot.

“…I am?” Henry finally asks.

"Don't tell me you don't want any of this." Even without seeing his face, Sungmin’s smirk is clear, razor-sharp and visible from the tone of his voice alone. “Lock the door and get over here.”

Click. It’s a funny thing to watch in action, when Sungmin nails that tone of voice to make everything fall into place the way he wants. Funny’s probably the wrong word. Then again, words are a bit difficult right now. Later, Ryeowook’s sure he won’t know what took over him, or maybe that’ll be easier to think. Right now, he feels almost exaggerated when he lets his head fall back, gasping just once. He lets his lips remain parted as he turns his head to the side.

Henry looks enthralled as he takes a step forward.

While Ryeowook has his eyes closed again, involuntary though it may be, he can hear and feel everything just that bit more strongly. Quiet footsteps. Heat. The release of pressure along his arms, and the tension of Sungmin’s shoulders, for a few seconds. A pillow, where his hands have found it, taking the brunt of his overwhelm through being squished. Sungmin’s breath hitching, though it's so soft that he almost misses it.

As if by reflex, as soon as his eyes are open, Ryeowook grabs a handful of Henry’s shirt to tug him down for a kiss, closing them again. Could be more overwhelm than reflex, on second thought. But, fuck, everything is so good, and then Sungmin adjusts and it’s incredible. Ryeowook finds himself moaning into Henry’s mouth. It feels like the sheet moves beneath him. Then, the gradually increasing press of teeth into his bottom lip as he’s rocked backwards again makes it feel like the whole world is moving beneath him.

“Why do you still have clothes on?" Sungmin says, the order behind the question crystal clear in his rich tone. Though Ryeowook whines at the loss, it has Henry scrambling to pull his shirt over his head. The sight mollifies him.

Henry’s eyes flick down, back up, then over while he fumbles through undoing his belt buckle with shaky hands.

"Tempting, isn't it?" Sungmin says, tracing his thumb over Ryeowook's bottom lip. "Ryeowook is amazing with his tongue. Do you want his mouth?"

As any good host should, Sungmin made sure their unexpected guest was nonetheless well taken care of. It should bother him, but here, like this, Sungmin offering him up so casually sends a shockwave through him. Especially offering him up to Henry. He curses some more, sure that he’s going to wake up at any moment.

Good thing Sungmin knows by now that Ryeowook doesn’t hold back his grievances when he has them. He can’t remember a single instance where Sungmin has ignored one; for all that Sungmin takes charge as easily as breathing, he’s very accommodating.

It’s too much. Sungmin’s stopped entirely, as though waiting for an answer, and that’s unbearable. Nothing proves far more difficult than everything at once. Ryeowook finds he can’t look. He’s even tempted to hide his face in his hands, but he pushes away the impulse.

“Is it okay?” Henry asks. For years now, Ryeowook hasn’t thought of himself as particularly shy in bed, but it seems to have returned with a vengeance. He nods twice and hopes that’s good enough.

He wants. God, how he wants, so badly his mouth almost waters with it. He whines when Sungmin pulls out completely, but Sungmin leans in and strokes him just a couple of times.

"Roll over," Sungmin whispers, and Ryeowook has to will his limbs to work. They’re uncooperative, taut with desire. Shyness has left the building.

"Get on the bed, Henry," Ryeowook murmurs, his eyelids feeling strangely heavy as he lets Sungmin scoot him aside to make room so Henry can sit against the headboard. Something… has stuffed his head with cotton. Or one of those noise machines. He can’t place it, but he’s already placed his hands on Henry’s thighs and taken his first tentative lick just below the head of his cock. The soft noise he gets in response makes him want more. So much more.

No longer hesitant, or even sure why he was in the first place, he licks a full, strong stripe from base to tip, savoring the shaky inhale that sharpens when he closes his lips over the head. His elbows dig into the mattress, his knees not faring much better where Sungmin repositioned him while he was preoccupied, but he’s not moving for anything.

Behind him, he hears the sound of Sungmin spitting into his hand again. Just a little bit more makes it a whole lot better, he's reminded when the warmth of Sungmin's hips rest against him for a moment before he pulls back. Before he knows it, he finds himself moaning around Henry's cock, starting an answering cascade of appreciative sounds and praise. Henry’s fingers slide through his hair. If the previous proceedings merely reached bliss, the flood of sight and sound and taste and texture bombarding him outright brings him to heaven.

Sungmin has a hidden core of pure evil. That’s the only possible explanation for why Ryeowook has gained the press of Sungmin’s stomach against him, something solid to push against up to the middle of his back, at the cost of Sungmin slowing to a crawl. With a whine that’ll have to suffice as a plea for more, words only sure to prolong the battle, Ryeowook pours his frustration into sucking harder. That must be why Henry’s fingers go from gently carding through his hair to yanking on a handful. Ryeowook jolts, a sharp jab of pleasure flooding him. He barely hears Henry’s breathy apology over his own groan.

"Kinky," laughs Sungmin. If he wasn’t busy at the moment, Ryeowook would tell him to shut up, that it’s not like he knew either. Still, there’re much more pleasant uses for his mouth right now. This isn’t the kind of situation that comes around as often as opportunities to snipe at Sungmin by far. None of that matters because Sungmin’s once again using all that marvelous strength, slamming into him, making little almost desperate sounds and it’s all too much. Ryeowook goes still, all thought gone, his entire being overtaken by the peak of pleasure for long, stretched-out seconds.

When he comes back down, he finds that Sungmin comes just in time with a low moan. Too much longer and he would’ve been painfully oversensitive and unhappy. No longer having to balance himself against the motion, Ryeowook takes a few moments to catch his breath before returning to the task at hand, switching to slow, lazy swipes of his tongue before taking Henry’s cock into his mouth once more.

Focusing on this and this alone, he wraps his fingers around the shaft, stroking in tandem with the bobbing of his head. With a gasp, Henry pulls his hair again, but much more gently, the pressure spread out, making it an enjoyable sensation even now. Ryeowook refuses to give up, though his body insists that lying down would be a great idea right now. It’s a point of pride, almost. Satisfaction - he gives it and he gets it.

A rhythm starts up in his head. Trying it on, he finds it too slow when he’s going for fast, though he enjoys Henry’s frustrated whine. With a chuckle, he finds another one, picking a different beat at random for a quick, hard press of his tongue. Henry’s panting grows stronger, sharper, his hips straining up the tiniest bit, an “ah!” mixed in with breaths that sound almost like words. The top of the mountain is within reach.

Beneath his touch, Ryeowook can feel the trembling of strained muscles, shortly followed by wonderfully strained sounds. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” He usually hears that word in a very different tone. This time, it’s the opposite of disaster. He takes it in greedily, though not much can be said for the taste, promising himself that a more thorough and wide-ranging exploration with his mouth will come in the future if it’s within his power. Henry’s fingers let go of their grip on Ryeowook’s hair, allowing him to pull back, watch Henry’s legs wobble as his knees unbend. His thigh seems like a great resting place and it’s the closest comfortable spot, so down Ryeowook goes.

There’s nothing said for a while, only breaths and ticks and the slightest sounds of sliding fabric. He counts exactly one hundred and twenty ticks before he gets restless and turns over. Laying on his back is a little uncomfortable, so he turns again, rolling onto his side. Still, he wants more.

“That was fun. What’s next?”

Sungmin doesn’t stir. It’s almost funny, the way he lies there like a lump. Lucky, too, because Ryeowook knows he’d hop on if a second round was offered, but that would bring so many regrets tomorrow.

“We should… probably clean up?” Henry suggests, not making a single motion in any direction either. Ryeowook whines, no longer needy but displeased.

"That's it? Come on, I can go again!"

"I did all the work," Sungmin grumbles into the pillow, reaching just far enough to shove at Ryeowook’s leg. Ryeowook huffs, then looks up at Henry from his nest on his thigh, part confident, part hopeful.

"Fine. You're up for another round, aren't you, Henry?"

“Um,” Henry says, visibly swallowing. “Uh. I mean. It’s just…”

Ryeowook sits up to nudge Henry back towards the headboard with a chest on his hand, silencing him with a kiss. It’s more effective than he could’ve imagined. Henry’s hand is gentle where it cups his jaw, but surprisingly steady, and he finds his lips parting, their tongues sliding against each other. He definitely didn’t initiate that. Lack of interest is not an issue. He’s in his element.

"Relax, you won't have to do anything," Ryeowook says when he’s just barely pulled away, his voice pitched low. Lower than he expected. It’s almost like following a half-remembered dream, scooting back, sinking down again. He swallows Henry down without much trouble, since he's only mostly hard right now.

"But I- ah!- didn't really- do anything before, either," Henry says, sounding embarrassed. Since he’s missing the point, Ryeowook feels perfectly justified in swatting at his side before resuming, sucking loose and sloppy to get him as slick as possible. Mmmm.

Where Sungmin was a challenge, Henry is, fortunately, right within his usual limits. Ryeowook’s nice and relaxed, and they’re both now ready for action, courtesy of a little more strain on his jaw. Not what he’d consider much of a hardship. Neither is bracing himself on Henry’s shoulders as he sinks down onto his cock. It’s difficult to get his calves to do what they’re supposed to; he’s still a little wobbly from his first orgasm, though it didn’t become apparent until he tried to use those muscles.

Just a little bit, not as bad, breathe through it, almost- there, fuck, fuck, it’s so good. He finds himself taking fast, deep breaths, like cut-off gasps, almost a full sound. Not quite aligned with each roll of his hips, though close to it. When he leans forward, it’s more difficult but somehow better, in no small part because it puts him within reach for Henry to press sucking kisses down his neck and along his shoulder, slide grasping hands down the length of his back to get a firm hold on his ass. Seemingly, whatever’s in reach. Ryeowook inhales pleasure and exhales profanity proportional to its intensity. Beneath his hands, Henry’s shoulders twitch, nearly slipping out of his hold.

“Ow! Not so hard,” Henry whines. Somewhere behind his arm, Sungmin’s laughter emerges, unrepentant. “Ah! Much better.” Seems he’s willing to play along nonetheless. It inspires a greedy sort of envy in Ryeowook.

“I thought you were too tired?” He says archly, right before putting more strength into his hips ruins the tone with his involuntary “oh!”

“Too tired to handle you,” Sungmin shoots back. “There’s a difference.”

“You’re so- hngh- mean to me,” Ryeowook says, not meaning a word of it.

“Is that right?” Sungmin says, popping up in front of him. He can see Sungmin’s fist moving over himself, and it makes him regret thinking about tomorrow at all for a moment. Then, Sungmin’s mouth is covering his, opening him up. The slightest touch of Sungmin’s tongue to his has Ryeowook being the one to do some coaxing. He’s much happier with something to suck on, flooded with sensation, and slows down to keep his balance, to not lose any of it.

He’s jolted upwards. Henry’s hard breathing filters into his awareness. When he lets Sungmin go, he sees that Henry’s hands had left him to put one on each side of himself on the mattress. That’s just enough leverage to allow for the short, jerky thrusts that have nonetheless thoroughly grabbed Ryeowook’s attention. He hisses his approval.

A murmur is all he can hear when Sungmin presses his mouth to Henry’s ear. Ryeowook can’t make out Sungmin’s smooth, too-low words, though the nip to Henry’s ear is much clearer. With a steady grip on the hair on the back of his head, Sungmin turns Henry to face him. He looks dazed, not quite all there. Ryeowook watches, enraptured, as Sungmin takes Henry's lip between his teeth. Gentle, at first, before engulfing him in a flurry of biting kisses that leave his lips deliciously red, making Ryeowook want another taste. God, he wants to do that too. But then, he also wouldn't mind watching Henry succumb to Sungmin's unrelenting force for approximately forever.

The pressure builds inside him. He sees his chance. He takes.

“Our Ryeowook.” Sungmin chuckles from behind him. How does he move so fast when he was worn out so recently? “Insatiable. Think you could take us both at once?” He taunts Ryeowook in a low, honeyed voice. As if in support of the notion, Henry’s hands find their way back to his ass, moving him in lieu of having the leverage to thrust anymore.

“Nooooo,” Ryeowook practically moans, breaking away from the kiss to protest. He knows his limits, has a very good handle on what he likes by now, and almost hates Sungmin for always putting impossible images in his head. Maybe he would hate him, for a second or two, if it wasn’t for Sungmin mouthing at the small of his back, in a sort of patrol along his lower back above where Henry’s hands rest, flowing with the waves of their motion.

“You look so good like this. Are you sure?” Sungmin’s chuckles fade quickly, replaced by a content hum that follows his tongue up along Ryeowook’s spine, while Henry’s grip on his ass tightens.

“Your imagination is so good and that’s what you use it for?” Ryeowook means for that to sound more insulting than sultry, but he’s getting close and words are losing their appeal. There’re faint, nearly evenly-spaced thumps against his lower back.

“That’s right,” Sungmin replies, confident through his breathing growing increasingly ragged. There’s no follow-up to that. He groans into the space between Ryeowook’s shoulderblades, then rests what’s probably his forehead right below the back of Ryeowook’s neck.

“You’re sweaty, get off me,” Ryeowook says.

“You weren’t complaining about it before,” Sungmin grumbles, moving around to the side. He watches them both intently.

“What about me?” Henry chimes in after a surprisingly long time of not jumping into their conversation.

“You’re fine,” Ryeowook says, nearly out of breath. It’s possible he slightly overestimated his stamina. Just a matter of a little break, he’s sure of it, so he slows down to the slightest rocking of his hips. He takes the opportunity lean in close, close enough to trail kisses along Henry’s jaw, up the side of his neck, pausing to let his teeth scrape the shell of Henry's ear. When he pulls back to find the same angle from earlier, he sees that Sungmin’s slowed down his own strokes to match his languid pace, all hooded eyes and that damned smirk, mocking him without making a single sound. Don’t you dare, he thinks.

He’s only under Sungmin’s spell when he’s under him. After that, it’s back to business as usual - insofar as this could be called usual. Not so much. But it is fun. Not content with only speeding up, he also lifts himself higher and comes back down harder, just to prove that he can.

Fuck!” Turns out that’s working for him.

Henry’s hands leave him once more. They must be at his sides now because those same short thrusts meet Ryeowook’s descent right on time. If Ryeowook’s grip on his shoulders is hurting him, he doesn’t voice any such thing. There’s nothing but exertion, climbing together towards the peak, the sounds of labored breathing at three different rates and volumes mixing haphazardly.

One hitch of silence. One loud puff of air. Ryeowook looks over to see Sungmin’s face going slack in relaxation, a couple of stray messy splatters slowly sliding down his abdomen. It’s not that Ryeowook actually wants to lick it off, but the idea of that level of debauchery has its appeal. But he doesn’t need Sungmin’s goading to drive him onwards - if he ever did.

He lets his awareness of Sungmin drop in priority, faintly registering the sliding sounds of him wiping his hand on the sheet somewhere, probably the side of the bed, then the fwoomp of him reclaiming his resting place. He’s probably hogging the biggest pillow again. Doesn’t matter. The muscles in Ryeowook’s thighs are starting to burn, but he’s so close, he’s so close, he can’t stop now.

“Fu-uck! Ah-!” Henry cries out, and it’s better than Ryeowook ever imagined, the sounds and the sight of his mouth falling open and his eyes squeezed shut. It’s so good, and the added pressure and motion inside him hit him just right and he falls over the edge too. Pure, thoughtless bliss is his.

He uses the last of his strength to unjoin them, every bit of him protesting as he flops back onto the bed, coming down from his high. “I’m exhausted,” he says, panting.

“You’re the one who wanted to go again,” Sungmin mutters from his pillow perch, sounding mostly asleep already. Henry says something with a lot of hard consonants and not a lot of precision that Ryeowook’s way too worn out to try to process. He doesn’t even know what language that was. Despite the rough texture, it still makes him smile that Henry’s considerate enough to wipe him down. It’s ten times better when the smile’s returned. Sleep sounds really good right now, though.

Painstakingly slowly, Ryeowook gets himself right side up on the bed, already making halfhearted mental adjustments in his supplement regimen. He hopes he remembers tomorrow.

“…Can I be in the middle next time?” Henry says. Ryeowook laughs into his side. Joining in with drowsy chuckling, Sungmin pulls them both closer to him, throwing the sheets over them.

"That can be arranged."

Chapter Text

For a couple of seconds after he wakes up, Henry doesn’t know where he is. His thoughts jumble together - the bed’s too small, the curtains are the wrong color, he doesn’t have a bookcase there - until he remembers just whose bed he fell asleep in last night.

A glance at the bedside clock, big and a little old-fashioned, tells him it’s already past eight-thirty. He turns over to see Ryeowook propped up on one elbow, smiling at him knowingly with sleep-hooded eyes. In the sliver of light peeking in through the curtains, he’s positively radiant.

Scooting closer, his gaze soon turns sultry; he leans down for the briefest kiss. “Hi,” he says before ghosting his lips along Henry’s jaw.

Fuck, is he awake now.

“Today’s the big day, you know,” Ryeowook continues, biting his own bottom lip and releasing it so, so slowly. It takes a bit for his words to register, but when it happens, Henry’s eyes widen.

“It is?! Really?” Now he’s tense all over with excitement. A mild lingering ache is all he finds when he tries to stretch without moving much. He’s ready. He’s so ready, and very much done waiting.

With a laugh, Ryeowook strokes his hair, pushing his bangs back and letting them fall forward a couple of times. “Mhmmm.” As he swoops in for another kiss, his fingers move with purpose down his chest, over his abdomen, until suddenly, he’s stroking two fingers over Henry’s shaft, soon adding his thumb to jerk him with a loose grip, pairing every other round with a quick, light press of his lips. “You took my biggest toy with no problem last night,” he adds, and Henry can feel the heat of the blush that steals over his cheeks at this.

To be honest, last night had been intense. Ryeowook had kept control of the toy, changing the speed and pressure at which he pushed it inside Henry even more often than he’d changed which nipple he was attacking with his mouth, driving them both into a frenzy until, leaving the toy pressed deep inside, he’d climbed on top and rode him to their mutual satisfaction.

Intense might be an understatement. But, well...

It’ll all be worth it. See, Sungmin had steadfastly refused to let him have anything more than a kiss until he completed this training regimen, wanting to let the anticipation build up until he could think of nothing else. The way he said it, combined with Ryeowook’s obvious eagerness that Henry’s seen firsthand, spoke to how good it could be.

“Then, you will be ready for me,” Sungmin had said, his thumb tracing over Henry’s bottom lip. “Until then.” Sungmin left him with one searing kiss, his tongue gliding expertly along the edges of Henry’s, breaking their dance for a passionate open-mouthed liplock or a quick nip of his lower lip again and again, leaving his head spinning, grounded only by Sungmin’s firm grip on his neck.

He’s not in love, but he sure as hell felt his knees go weak from lust right then.

A bite to his collarbone snaps him out of his reverie. He inhales sharply, accidentally digging his nails into the skin near Ryeowook’s shoulderblade. He didn’t even realized he’d moved. Ryeowook just looks pleased, though.

“I’m under strict orders not to let you come before Sungmin-hyung fucks you,” he tells Henry quietly, looking up at him, his expression soft with the intimacy of a shared secret, his gaze growing hot with obvious hunger as he lets the words hang in the air. “But, you know...” He strokes with his whole hand now, squeezing tight but moving so slow that it’s sheer torture. “That doesn’t mean I can’t get you close a few times while I’m having fun with you.”

Overwhelmed with the pleasure of both Ryeowook’s touch and restriction, Henry can’t help but whimper. Anticipation builds low in his belly. Fully awake now, he can only clutch fistfuls of the sheet, as terrified that a single word or move out of place will bring the whole plan crashing down as he is excited to push at the bounds of what he’s allowed.

Calling it off does not once cross his mind.

Not when Ryeowook’s teeth scrape along his neck, the pressure just right to leave him panting and unable to think; not when the other man coaxes him into the shower with the promise of sucking him once he’s cleaned well, keeping his word to the very brink of orgasm, leaving Henry trembling all over from stopping just short of the point of no return as well as the effort it takes to not push himself over the edge for several minutes after; and certainly not when that sharp, heavy gaze watches him carry out the next order of stretching himself out one more time as a precaution, the fingers of his free hand interlaced with cooler ones to bolster his self-control.

As a reward, he’s drowned in slow open-mouthed kisses, breathy praise and “it’s gonna be so good” and “god, I can’t wait to see” spilling out between.

They had to keep shushing each other when they snuck out of the shower back to Ryeowook’s room, but soon, they fall quiet. Ryeowook scrubs Henry’s hair dry with the towel around his neck, commenting in his unabashed way on how strange it is to see his hair not dyed, but of course, it looks good on him.

At ten AM sharp comes a knock on the door. This is it! He springs up, every trace of lethargy evaporated by the knowledge, the sweet anticipation of what’s next.

Craving thrums under his skin, pulling the string of tension so tight that he’s on the verge of snapping. He watches, waits, hungers.

After the door is closed and audibly locked behind him, Sungmin grins, and his smile is all the sunshine the room needs, really. He holds up what he brought - a fresh bottle of lube, the plastic seal still on it, and what he promised is his softest rope. His hair is still damp at the ends, soaking small spots into the shoulders of his t-shirt. He tends to wake up earlier, so it’s no surprise that he looks well-fed and ready to go.

“Good morning!” He says cutely. “Are you ready?”

Henry takes one deep, steadying breath before letting both towels on him drop to the floor once he stands up. “Yes,” he says as steadily as he can manage, his mind getting foggier still with lust. Every part of this was custom-designed for him, with no small amount of help and tempting suggestions from both these exquisite men, who have wrested an entire morning and afternoon free alongside him to make it happen.

Is he ready? He couldn’t be more ready. But he has to make sure he looks and sounds it.

Sungmin, especially, will accept no less than that.

Henry swallows hard. “I’m ready,” he affirms, only a little breathless. He holds out his wrists together, the heels of his palms facing each other but not touching. The soft, sensual texture of the rope falls cool against his flushed skin. He bites the corner of his lip, willing his breath steady as he takes in Sungmin’s furrowed brow of concentration, his plush mouth half pursed, the smooth, tempting line of his neck so close yet completely out of reach. A shiver runs through him when the knot is finished.

After another couple of seconds, the bit of rope left loose at the end is tied into a pretty little bow that faces him. “Cute,” Ryeowook teases, but it hardly registers. Tense with expectation, Henry drops to his knees before he’s realized that he followed the flick of Sungmin’s gaze to the floor, then back to him, meeting his eyes with pure shoulders-back, chin-up confidence that he’s in charge.

Serve and please and give me and want swirl around inside him to form a heady mixture. Unzipping the tight jeans he wore by special request, Sungmin pulls his cock out, holding it expectantly in a loose grip.

For a moment, Henry wishes he’d gotten to practice this, too. Still, the scent is clean with a hint of musk, and when he follows it almost automatically, his mouth stretching open around the head, the sensation of the shape on his tongue as he moves back and forth itself is enough to drive him to distraction all on its own. He revels in Sungmin’s panting, goes as far as he can until he bumps up against his fingers, darting out his tongue to gather the taste he can’t get enough of from there too. Nothing else exists, only the tang of Sungmin’s precome, the whispered curses above him, and mapping every vein and ridge with his tongue as he lets himself fall into a trance. Over and over, back and forth. Lighter, stronger, again, more, again. Relishing the growing tension in his jaw.

Sungmin cradles Henry’s cheek in his palm, warm and unobtrusive right until he removes it to give the lightest tap where he held only a moment ago. It’s so gentle that there’s no pain; instead, every nerve lights up so pleasurably that he whimpers when the sensation somehow shoots right to his dick.

God, how he aches with need! It’s almost unbearable.

When Sungmin pushes him off, Henry whines with the loss. Which is really embarrassing, but even that feeling is somehow subsumed into arousal.

“Get on the bed,” Sungmin says, pointing with his chin. Henry does.

Ryeowook scoots farther up towards the headboard to give him room, a towel still resting over his lap. That’s strange. Is he having second thoughts? Hard to tell when he won’t meet Henry’s eyes. Still, unless he says something, there’s no choice but to let it go for now. With a few adjustments, Henry gets comfortable enough on his knees and elbows on the bed, his forearms balancing out the pressure points, his fingertips brushing Ryeowook’s towel. He lets his head fall forward, tries not to think too much.

But, the towel... Why? He tugs on it as best he can; Ryeowook doesn’t stop him, at least. Each pull also tugs the rope over his skin, a delicious reminder that gets him more willing to push every time he feels it. “Don’t hide now,” he teases, hoping that’ll lighten the mood.

Long fingers come into view, pulling the rough fabric aside at last. Ryeowook brings his thighs closer together, though, the whole of him the very picture of shyness.

It takes more energy than Henry expects to lift his head up, and he’s briefly distracted by Sungmin in all his glory, stepping past the pile of his clothes. But right after that, before the fog pulls him under once more, he does manage to ask, “Is something wrong?”

Ryeowook vehemently shakes his head, but doesn’t move.

Before Henry can ask again, a just-right bite into his side has him gasping, a perfect line of them continuing down to his waist, his hipbone, the bottom curve of his ass, right above where it meets his thigh, his abrupt moan bringing a low, sensuous chuckle from Sungmin that somehow only deepens his hold over him. Once, and only once, Ryeowook had tried to explain this, how Sungmin had a way of hypnotizing you without trying so that all you wanted to do was please him, but Henry couldn’t make sense of it until now. Experiencing it for himself was wholly different than seeing its effects on Ryeowook, after all.

But he had no idea that “Oh god, just fuck me already” was going to tumble out of his mouth in English until it happened; his hazy mind barely made the connection, and he let his head hang all the way down while his face positively burned with mortification. Which didn’t less his arousal, but enhanced it this time, too, oddly enough. Whatever it is that’s happening to him, he’s liking it way too much.

“Hm. You sound pretty ready to me,” is all Sungmin says, his idle touch disappearing, taking his grounding warmth with him. But it’s okay, because Ryeowook is stroking his hair now, alternating with the occasional quick rub to one shoulder or the other.

Relax, Henry tells himself. He loosens his muscles slowly and consciously, starting with his shoulders and moving down.

“Good, relax,” Ryeowook murmurs. “Just like that. Good job.” Any sounds behind him are faint by comparison, so it’s a momentary surprise when Sungmin's cock presses up against him, cool and slick on his burning skin.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Sungmin says, his voice strong and steady. “Are you ready?”

Henry takes a deep breath in, out. In, out. Re-relaxes as far as he can without falling down. “I’m ready.”

Ryeowook rubs up and down his back with steady pressure as he’s trying to take in Sungmin’s girth, telling him, “Stay relaxed. You can do this. You’re doing so well.” Henry’s starting to feel unsteady leaning on his elbows, the texture of the rope binding his wrists together at once soothing and erotic. He wouldn’t trust anyone else to do this, but Sungmin is thoroughly worthy of such trust.

Showing why, Sungmin pushes in at a pace so slow it would be annoying in any other circumstance, with short, frequent stops throughout. Henry barely catches his breath with each one, though; the faint hum of pleasure is starting up in harmony, growing steadily with each passing moment.

An eternity later, Sungmin bottoms out in him, an extended pause; the twinge from his cock twitching inside is overshadowed by how good even that barely-there movement feels. Henry squeezes experimentally and it just about knocks the wind out of him. He’s been keyed up so much, so many times today, that he’s sure it’s not going to take much more, judging by how his whole body sings.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, I don’t know how long I can last-“ Henry’s warning is cut off by a gasp when Sungmin rocks the slightest bit, the motion pressing hard on every nerve ending at once. Wow, does he get it now.

Ryeowook takes a short detour, leaving his sight to watch like he said he would. He lets out a pleased noise as Sungmin tries a couple of cautious experimental strokes, murmuring something unintelligible. In the pause that Sungmin takes to adjust, Ryeowook returns to his previous spot sitting against the headboard. He curls in on himself; Henry would worry about it if he was capable of anything so complex.

The second round stretch is somewhat tough when Sungmin’s thrusts start in earnest, easy though his pace may be. Yet it’s enough to dampen Henry’s overwhelming excitement, to the point that he feels more coherent for it. He looks up at Ryeowook from under his lashes, more from the effort he has to exert to do that much than any purposeful attempt at getting what he wants, though he can’t deny that’s a part of it, too. The well-muscled thighs before him only spread slowly, hesitantly. “Hyung,” he says, voice low and tone pitch-perfect needy to get the older man to spoil him, “don’t make me wait any longer. Please?”

Ryeowook scoffs, but he’s wearing a smile when he says, “Like I can say no to you.” He can and does, quite regularly, but Henry’s not about to argue, instead letting his mouth fall the slightest bit further open.

It works all too well. Ryeowook’s eyes are riveted to his lips when he runs his tongue over them. With a low groan, he scoots his visibly unsteady legs into position so that Henry can finally take him into his mouth. He finds it relaxing how easy it is, sucking hard with no qualms about it, only wanting to please and taste.

Just as quickly, Ryeowook pulls back, slipping out with an audible pop as he shrinks in on himself, staying out of reach. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I feel weird,” he says quietly, his voice choked with shame.

“Why? I like that you fit in my mouth,” Henry tries as a guess - very honestly, at that. Still just a guess, though. He closes his eyes, as much to give Ryeowook a moment to compose himself as to revel in the power that Sungmin’s bringing to bear. One small shift of the angle of Sungmin’s hips where they lay softwarm against his skin has him keening, forgetting any sense of inhibition about making too much noise. Focusing on staying upright - and trying and failing to keep his cursing quiet - waiting is no issue when he’s getting fucked so damn good that he’s not sure he can say anything else anymore.

Maybe seconds later, Ryeowook gives him a soft “okay” and gets back into position. Henry dives back in with a moan, the two contrasting sensations, active and passive, taste and feel, coiling tight inside him as he’s wound higher and higher and filled up and it’s all so good.

All too soon, it’s almost a disappointment when his mouth is flooded with the sharp, bitter taste he was after, except that he’s so proud of himself, he did so well, yes. Then his mouth is empty again. He runs his tongue over his teeth, chasing the feeling, and looks up, hopeful to the point of heartache for the praise he thought was coming.

Except that, not looking at all like he’s just come, Ryeowook hides his face in his hands, his arms noticeably tense where he holds them close to his body. “Sorry, I- I don’t usually-“

The slow thrusts Sungmin was tormenting him with speeding up again, outright pounding into him now, means Henry can’t figure out what Ryeowook’s trying to say. There’s no space for thought, only gulping down air as though there isn’t enough in the room. He manages to rub the top of Ryeowook’s knee with the back of his fingers for a second, any more far beyond his capabilities. He wants more and doesn’t know if he can take it but he wants it so bad that he’s on the verge of begging.

“I don’t get blown a lot,” Ryeowook says at last, drawing Henry away from the impulse in the process. He’s stopped hiding his face, but he’s still looking off to the side, the tops of his ears bright pink.

“Our Ryeowookie did a very good job. Isn’t that right, Henry-ya?”

“Uh-huuuuh. Yeah,” Henry manages to answer. “Ohfuckyeah,” he says under his breath shortly after, slammed with more of Sungmin’s strength. Everything’s going hazy to the point that he nearly didn’t know what he was agreeing to, the mild bitter aftertaste lingering on his tongue a grounding contrast. He savors it as he’s rocked forward again, and again, and again. He’s barely got the strength to press a sucking kiss to where Ryeowook’s left his inner thigh within reach to show him some sort of affection and understanding, to rest his forehead just below that same spot so he can keep a connection to comfort and familiarity before he breaks apart under the pleasurable onslaught.

“So he deserves to enjoy his reward. And he did, hmm?” Sungmin’s gentle words nonetheless leave no room for argument.

Gentle fingers stroke over the back of Henry’s head. He’s held, wanted here, wanted by both of them. Could give in to the too-much sensation and it’d be okay. “Please,” he croaks, teetering on the edge. He has no idea what language he used, or if it matters. Above all else, he knows without knowing that they understand his plea.

The bedframe groans with the force of Sungmin’s thrusts, squeaks out a counterpoint to his gasps and bitten-off curses and his bruising grip on Henry’s hips. Nothing else in the world exists, only these, and Ryeowook’s feather-light touch along his shoulders and back, and the pressure building, higher and impossibly higher.

A shudder overtakes his entire body as the tension snaps. He moans, low and long, coming harder than he ever could’ve imagined, every single thought wiped from his mind as his peak stretches out in endless time.

As he’s barely coming down off the high, the arc of it only starting its descent, he can feel every pulse of Sungmin inside him, the combination of the sensations and sharp gasp and exhale and the groan of his release burned indelibly into his mind. His cock gives a half-hearted twitch in defiance of how both of them are spent.

Henry’s legs give out beneath him. He’s too exhausted for his euphoric babbling to reach above a whisper, glad to be bereft of touch for the many seconds that pass before he regains his bearings.

When he does, he sees Sungmin flopped down against the wall next to him, his hair lying limp with sweat. Though he looks quite drained, he does remember to undo the rope, sliding it off like it was nothing and bundling it with practiced ease. Is there anything he’s not good at?

Clearly, the answer is no. Sungmin is incredible.

“Fuck, that was good,” is all Henry can manage to say. No sooner does he realize how raw his throat feels than Ryeowook holds an open water bottle up to his lips. His small smile as he tips it just enough for Henry to get one swallow’s worth down is stunningly beautiful. Everything feels so good right now, but, like, emotionally. Parts of his body that he’s never felt before are exhausted and strained. He’s so tired but so fucking happy, he could burst with it. “Hyungs are the best,” he manages with a somewhat steadier voice. He smiles too. Then chuckles. Then he can’t stop his joyful laughter for a few seconds. “Oh my god. Fuck. Wow!”

Sungmin hums contentedly next to him and doesn’t move the slightest bit.

Beside the bed, Ryeowook sits on the floor, one leg outstretched, the other bent. He takes a drink from the same bottle and it’s mesmerizing. He twists the cap back on and not watching isn’t an option, the memory of weeks of his touch impossible to erase. The seeds of craving are already planted, and it’ll be agony to bear.

“We’re going to miss you,” Ryeowook says, his tone at once proud and wistful, reaching up to press a soft kiss to Henry’s lips.

“Mm,” Sungmin agrees, rolling over to peck his forehead once Ryeowook pulls away. His eyes fall closed, tension seeping out of him; it’s frankly ridiculous how handsome he looks like that. Not being overwhelmed by adoration after that is unthinkable, really.

Henry needs more - more touch, more comfort, more of both of them. After all, he’ll need enough to last him two months and change while he’s off filming. So he tugs on Ryeowook’s arm until the older man laughs and stands up. Since he’s not taking the hint, Henry tugs on his wrist next, until finally, he squeezes onto the bed, pressed up against Henry’s side that’s now no longer cold, though Sungmin remains a wonderful furnace on the opposite side.

This is the life. Pleasant exhaustion overtaking his entire body, Henry wriggles further down the bed so he can be surrounded by their warmth for a little bit longer, for every minute he can take until the sun sets and their evening work leads them away once more.