
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2526071.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      방탄소년단_|_Bangtan_Boys_|_BTS
  Relationship:
      Jeon_Jeongguk_|_Jungkook/Kim_Taehyung_|_V/Park_Jimin
  Additional Tags:
      Rave_AU, Threesome_-_M/M/M
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-10-28 Words: 7390
****** Melt in Your Mouth (Not in Your Hands) ******
by mindheist
Summary
     What happens at a rave stays at a rave—except this one.
Notes
     “basically a really nc-17 rave au,” because jeongguk is a giant piece
     of shit and my only job on the internet is just to drag everyone to
     hell with me. en garde monsterplaza and nikkumeul
See the end of the work for more notes
Jimin has a mouthful of lukewarm water in the back of his throat when he sees
him in the crowd.
He seems to be dancing alone. Maybe he’s lost his friends. it’s strange that
Jimin even spotted him, the rave is packed to the brim—glowsticks smashed on
the floor, shirtless guys (like him—it’s fucking hot in here) with girls backed
up into their crotches, silk flower crowns scattered in pieces underfoot.
Jimin’s head throbs as the bass pounds through the venue, and every time the
lights flash he thinks he loses him, the boy’s head bobbing in the mass of
sweaty bodies.
He’s pretty. Dark eyes and dark hair. Sweat spiking his bangs.
The world spins under his feet. Jimin turns away, tipping more water into his
mouth and not even caring when some of it runs down his chin and slides down
his neck. It drips down his chest, and any lower Jimin doesn’t register the
sensation of. It’s been nearly three hours since he downed all those drinks,
but he still feels the alcohol trickling weakly through his system.
“Who goes to a rave sober,” Taehyung scoffed, pouring Jimin another shotglass
of bourbon.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” Jimin said, color high in cheeks after his
third. Maybe more. “I thought we were best buds, man. Testicles before
breasticles. Gay sex before dinner checks. Mutual masturbation before female
ovulation.”
“You’re done,” Taehyung replied, pouring himself one last shot and clinking
glasses with Jimin’s empty one. He was a little wobbly already, too. “His name
is Jeongguk, okay. He, him. No breasts in sight. And you’ll get to meet him, I
promise. He said we’d meet up there.”
But Jimin lost Taehyung in the crowd earlier. He can’t blame him. He’s been to
one of these with Seokjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok (Yoongi had rolled his eyes and
said “Raves are loud noises and large crowds, both of which I suffer from life-
threatening allergies to,” so it had just been the four of them), and even then
it was a tantamount challenge trying to stay together.
“I thought I lost you.”
The bench vibrates when Taehyung sits down with a thunk beside him. Sweat beads
on his temples and there’s body glitter rubbed onto his bare arms from the
people that pressed up against him.
“You did.”
Taehyung grins. “Good thing I found you again.” He holds out a hand. “Want
some?”
Jimin squints. There are two little white pills resting in his palm, unassuming
and innocuous.
“What is it?”
“Molly.”
“Nah.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Taehyung says. “Me neither.” He tosses the capsules
over his shoulder and Jimin watches them go, because if he’d known Taehyung was
going to do that then maybe he would have reconsidered. Oh well. He’s not too
hot about the idea of getting crossfaded at a rave, anyway.
“You going back?” he shouts into Taehyung’s ear.
“Yeah, in a sec. I lost Jeongguk and I need a breather.”
“Okay. Well, I’m going back in.”
He’s still there. Jimin picks himself up off the bench, leaving Taehyung his
overpriced water behind and knowing full well that someone is going to grab it
the second he loses track of it. Jimin feels himself being buffeted from all
sides by bodies when he melts into to the crowd, eyes trained on the boy with
hips that move like poison paradise.
He turns around. Jimin feels the music shake his bones. The boy gives him a
very long once over, sliding his eyes from Jimin’s face all the way down, at
least, to the hem of Jimin’s pants. if he were sober he’d be self-conscious.
He’s not usually scrutinized shirtless like this. But right now Jimin just
feels himself burning inside out, a dry parched flame licking under his skin.
It’s impossible not to move. The beat is infectious and Jimin dances in the way
he does best. His body brushes into boy’s in front of him, teasing and barely
there at first, the neon words EAT SLEEP EDM on his black tank top lit up
obnoxious shades of green pink yellow.
A circle of girls jostles Jimin from behind, bony elbows digging into his back.
He topples forward, staggering into the boy’s body and he’s sobered up enough
to be embarrassed, to start pulling away when he realizes there’s nowhere to
go.
The boy, eyes so dark they’re almost like pitch in his face, just smirks and
rolls against his body against Jimin’s and he nearly chokes because that is
definitely a thigh between his legs. He’s not averse at all to the feeling, he
quite enjoys it if he’s honest, but holy fuck, this is a guy. This is a guy
that Jimin finds hot as shit and it is not everyday Jimin will admit his desire
to bone any given dickbearer.
His arm comes snaking up of its own accord. Jimin passes it off as the need to
stay balanced, draping his wrist snugly over the boy’s shoulder, free hand
slung over the back of his own head as they grind up against each other. His
skin is slick with sweat, Jimin’s fingers scrabbling for purchase against the
slope of his shoulder blade, but Jimin is still buzzed enough not to care, and
he’s still buzzed enough to make bad decisions. Taehyung will be so jealous
when he knows what kind of ass Jimin metaphorically got, he thinks as he leans
forward experimentally. When the boy doesn’t visibly pull away Jimin closes the
last bit of distance and kisses him on the mouth.
He tastes of sweat and heat. Jimin’s made out with a guy before (Seokjin has
excellent oral units, he must say, it’s a shame he’s not sucking more dick),
but it’s never been so charged, desperate, a little challenging and angry,
almost. He pulls back, sucking the boy’s lip hard enough to bruise and
releasing only after he’s stretched its limit.
Jimin pants, eyes shut. Fuck. He’s getting dizzy again, he wants to sit down,
but he doesn’t want to leave this person who feels like syrup and sin under his
hands. Jimin has danced with girls and guys at clubs and raves but none have
ever had him feeling his alive, the itch under his skin impossible to scratch.
He blinks his eyes, strobe lights flashing into his face, thinking he’s going
to be met with that smoldering gaze again.
But instead, the boy has his head tipped back, pale column of his neck rippling
as he pants. Jimin would be lying if he said the sight didn’t go straight to
his crotch, the sheen of sweat on his skin glimmering under the harsh strobes.
But then he catches the sight of someone’s open mouth pressed onto the nape of
his neck, lips dragging upward, nose buried in the boy’s hair and.
Holy fuck, it’s Taehyung. It’s Taehyung and his eyes are closed, hands gripping
the boy’s waist. The realization slams into Jimin like a wave of drunkenness.
Shit, this must be Jeongguk. Taehyung isn’t into making out with strangers.
This is Jeon Jeongguk. This is Taehyung’s Jeon Jeongguk, who’s grinding his ass
back into Taehyung’s crotch as Jimin presses into Jeongguk’s, their hips
swinging in messy tandem.
Another flash of heat starts in Jimin’s cheeks and washes down in sticky trails
along his body when one of Taehyung’s arms comes up to latch around Jimin’s
neck, and he has to watch Jeongguk turn his head, lips parting, he has to watch
his best friend stick his tongue down same throat Jimin had been licking into
mere moments before. Jeongguk is so giving under Taehyung, opening up his mouth
obediently like he wants nothing more than Taehyung’s tongue in his mouth, hand
slung over his own shoulder and anchored around Taehyung’s neck.
This is all extremely fucking surreal for Jimin.
Taehyung is the one that has negative game between the two of them. Jimin is
the one with irresistible charm, girls and frankly boys blushing left and right
with every smile Jimin carelessly sends their way. Taehyung is cute, sure, but
the second he opens his mouth he only gets nervous smiles and nods followed by
quick getaways. How he picked up someone like this—this Jeon Jeongguk—is beyond
logical reason.
Fuck this. Jimin reaches forward with both hands, tugging Jeongguk away from
Taehyung’s mouth until he’s facing Jimin. He looks disoriented, punch-drunk,
lips red and kiss swollen but Jimin doesn’t wait for his expression to clear
before he kisses Jeongguk adamantly, fiercely. It turns into a implicit
competition to see who can kiss him more, kiss him harder, keep him longer;
Jimin has to admit that Taehyung has the upper hand here for once, at least in
terms of familiarity—every time Jimin has to pull away for a breath of hot,
sticky air, Jeongguk angles his head back naturally, on instinct, until
Taehyung’s mouth is on his again. Jimin always has to pull him away, a growing
smirk on Jeongguk’s face every time he does, as if he knows that Jimin will
always come back for more.
He’s not ready for what happens after they break apart for the last time.
Jeongguk shifts between their bodies, arms coming up to loop around Jimin’s
neck and he raises his eyebrows at the sudden give, but Jeongguk offers nothing
but a cryptic smile and pulls him forward until they're chest to chest, and
Jimin is nose to nose with Taehyung.
And Taehyung, of course, does not pass the chance up to plant one on Jimin, wet
and sloppy and tasting of bourbon. Jesus Christ, Jimin is kissing his best
friend. It’s actually not all that bad. Taehyung pulls back faster than
Jeongguk does, smiling over his boyfriend’s shoulder and dragging a thumb over
his puffy lower lip.
Jimin wishes quite ardently now that he popped the molly when he had the
chance.
 
The next morning sees Jimin with a low, buzzing headache in the base of his
neck, which is the best he could have hoped for.
Somewhere above the surface of sleep and wake, someone is humming pleasantly
under his breath, a soft, soothing tune that filters in through the holes of
Jimin’s drunken dreams. He rolls over with a groan. The bedsprings squeak
beneath him and he pulls the blankets up to his chin before issuing a pained
groan worthy of a wounded tiger.
“Morning, sunshine,” comes Taehyung’s voice, the humming stopping abruptly.
Jimin grunts, a puff of air from his nose. “How’re you feeling?”
Jimin cracks an eye open. Taehyung’s sitting as his desk in his pajamas, typing
away rapidly on a word document. When he doesn’t immediately answer, the
rhythmic sounds of the keyboard pause and Taehyung spins around in his rolling
chair to face Jimin. “Hey, bud. Y’all right?”
“I,” Jimin says hoarsely, squinting. Through sleep-smeared vision there seems
to be a delicate constellation of bruises dotting Taehyung’s neck and his
collarbones. He shuts his eye again and yawns. Taehyung must’ve fallen on the
stairs coming back again. Or tripped over the furniture. It wouldn’t be the
first time. “Yeah. Give me a second to come around.”
“All right.” The typing starts up again, the sound nearly lulling Jimin back
into a light doze when Taehyung asks,
“So you wanna explain why you were making out with my boyfriend back there?”
The words take a glorious, sun-lit moment to sink in before memories of last
night slam back into Jimin like a volleyball to the face. The rave. The music.
The molly in Taehyung’s hands, then flying over his shoulder. The boy in the
black tank top and leg-hugging pants. Jeon Jeongguk. Dancing with him. Kissing
him. Kissing Taehyung.
“OH, FUCK.”
“Morning, sunshine,” Taehyung repeats, more dryly this time.
“Look, I can explain.”
“You probably can,” Taehyung says, sounding unruffled. “But you’re not the
first one to come onto him like that.”
“I—wait, you’re not mad?”
“A little surprised, but no, not mad. Might’ve been if you tried dragging him
back to our room and fucking him without asking me first, but it was just
making out. We’ve talked about this. He’s okay with me doing it, I’m okay with
him doing it.” He gives a cheeky wink. “As long as he promises to like me the
most.”
“Ugh,” Jimin says, still feeling woozy. “We made out though.”
“Yeah, I’m still not sure how I feel about that,” Taehyung says gravely,
expression critical and pensive. “You’re not bad. You’ve got good lips. Seven
out of ten, might do again.”
“This is a really weird conversation right now.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung says, waving a hand over his shoulder, “go take a shower.”
 
The pros of this situation: Taehyung is chill with what happened, not weird
about their own impromptu lip-lock, and even jokes that they could do it again
if Jimin so pleased.
The cons of this situation: Jimin really, really wants to kiss Jeongguk again.
Feel his body against his again.
It doesn’t help that the nights when their suite is almost empty—Namjoon,
Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin at a fraternity event—Jimin come backs from the gym
and sees a tie draped over the the doorknob and, well, neither of them dial
down their volume. It isn’t their fault considering that until five minutes ago
the house had been vacant. Jimin has never actually heard Jeongguk’s speaking
voice but when Taehyung is fucking him into his mattress (hopefully, since he’s
top bunk and Jimin prays that they’re not on his), his voice is high, whines
and keens floating through the papery walls. They can be at it for hours, Jimin
doesn’t know what kind of fucking stamina both of them possess but every time
he’s sexiled, he ends up falling asleep on the couch. Sometimes he wakes up in
Seokjin’s bed if the hyungs are still sober enough to carry him when they get
back.
Tonight isn’t too different. At least, it doesn’t start differently. Jimin
returns from his shift at the peer advising office, tired and wrung out from
answering phones and listening to the scheduling woes of his fellow classmates.
The suite is dim, one lamp lit up in the corner of the room, and he checks the
calendar that hangs on the back of the door. It’s covered in dozens of colored
post-it flags with notes of who will be where on what days at what time, and
from what he gathers, half of the hyungs are at Alpha Phi Omega, the other half
turning the fuck up at Jin Hyosang’s house. Jimin just wants to eat a whole
lasagna and sleep. It’s been a long week.
He’s halfway to the kitchen when he hears them. Taehyung’s voice is always
louder, projecting further. Jimin takes a long, long breath through his nose.
He’s tired. This isn’t the first time this has happened. They just seem louder
than usual tonight, he thinks, trying not to let the sounds of Jeongguk’s
hoarse cries sink under his skin. Jimin opens the freezer and stands there so
long that the fridge rumbles to life, and as soon as he takes out a box of
microwaveable lasagna and closes the door, it feels too hot in the kitchen.
He stabs the buttons on the microwave with unnecessary force, glad for the low
hum of the appliance drowning out the sounds of sex. Even with the comforting
smell of tomato sauce and cheese wreathing around him, no matter how hard Jimin
tries, he can’t scrub the image of Jeongguk under him, Jeongguk pinned up
against the wall, Jeongguk pressing into him with dark eyes and cherry lips.
Taehyung is in shadows of all of them, fantastical images, the both of them
like bad decisions luring Jimin in.
Jimin has to shift from foot to foot to ignore the heat pooling in his abdomen.
The microwave dings, and he pulls the plastic bowl out of the microwave with
bare hands even though it’s blistering hot in his fingers. He just wants to
make it to Seokjin’s room, boot up his desktop and play three straight hours of
Maplestory until they’re done, desperation making him slam cupboards and
drawers in a quest for a pair of clean chopsticks. The bottom of the container
sears his skin when he balances it in one hand, cursing when he realizes that
he has to pass their room to get to Seokjin’s.
But he really doesn’t want to fall asleep in the living room again with nothing
but a jacket for a blanket.
It just happens. Jimin doesn’t mean for it to. He’s striding down the hallway
with all the intention of breezing past their room and into Seokjin’s next
door. Maybe it’s his enthusiasm. Maybe it happens because somewhere deep down
Jimin wanted an excuse to pause, but the rocking motions of his walk make one
of the metal chopsticks clatter to the floor.
The door is ajar.
No wonder he could hear them so clearly. Jimin bends down to pick it up and
somehow he just finds himself looking in.
Jeongguk is on his knees on the floor. His cheek, his entire body, is pressed
up against Taehyung’s closet, sweaty locks of hair clinging to the wood. One of
his wrists is pinned on the surface right beside his head, Taehyung’s hand
splayed over the back of Jeongguk’s as he thrusts into him from behind, face
buried in the junction between Jeongguk’s neck and shoulder.
Jimin’s brain screams at his feet to move. They don’t. Jeongguk spread his
thighs apart wider and Taehyung grunts, leaning forward, lips closing around
the red stud in Jeongguk’s earlobe. He pants, mewls, tipping his head back,
mouth hanging open.
Then his eyelids flutter open and he looks right at Jimin, who’s still standing
petrified in the crack of the doorway with huge eyes, like a child that’s just
witnessed a terrible secret.
Though in this case, he’s just the roommate that’s trying to will down his
goddamn boner.
A smile stretches across Jeongguk’s face, a mischievous, sly little grin, even
as Taehyung rocks harder and harder into him. It’s only there for a few
seconds—Jeongguk grunting, little cries slipping out from between his teeth and
lips with every slam of Taehyung’s hips—before Taehyung ruts into him one more
time.
Jeongguk’s eyes fall closed again as his whole body shudders, shaking apart as
he comes. The sound of his voice keening finally jolts Jimin back into reality.
He makes a mad dash into the room next door, heart pounding in his ears,
positively straining in his jeans.
“Fucking, fuck, fuck this,” Jimin curses, dropping his dinner on the corner of
Seokjin’s desk and banging into their bathroom. He locks the door behind
him—it’s a complicated process that involves jamming the knob with the end of a
toothbrush at a very exact angle, and right now, Jimin’s fingers are shaking so
hard he’s about to give up when he finally gets it to hold—and reaches into his
jeans.
He thinks of the way Jeongguk had looked at him just now, how it must feel to
have skin on skin contact with him. Taehyung’s voice swims into his mind, a
coaxing, soft come on, why don’t you join us? and it’s mortifying. Mortifying,
but completely gratifying, because Jimin comes so hard so fast that he has to
grip the counter for support.
Goddamn that Jeon Jeongguk.
 
If Jeongguk told Taehyung about it, then Taehyung acts no different around
Jimin in the following days. He knew Jimin was home, obviously; there’s a cup
of unopened boba with a straw lying across the plastic the next afternoon on
his desk with a note that reads, ㅋㅋㅋ sorry jiminie!! ♡♡
And it’s not that Jimin is mad—no, he’s not mad at either of them. They were
just banging like a couple of well-to-do boyfriends on a Friday night. He’s
simply supremely frustrated because there is no socially outlined way to ask
your best friend and your roommate for permission to make out with his
boyfriend again, preferably naked.
He doesn’t get a chance to gather any tactics. The next time Jeongguk comes
around is the middle of that week and Jimin runs into him when he’s coming out
of the bathroom. It’s the first time he’s ever seen Jeongguk up close, in
decent lighting, in a non-sexual situation. He’s in surprisingly normal attire,
as if Jimin can’t quite believe that Jeongguk actually wears clothing—a red-
black-white striped sweater that looks so fluffy he wants to curl a fist in a
it. Maybe rip it off. Fuck, get your mind out of the gutter, Park Jimin.
“Oh,” Jimin chokes eloquently.
“Hi,” Jeongguk says, extending a hand. His voice is deeper than Jimin
anticipated. “Sorry, we never actually got a chance to meet properly, right?
I’m Jeon Jeongguk.”
“Park Jimin,” Jimin says, taking Jeongguk’s hand slowly. It’s a little damp,
still, from the faucet. Nothing happens when their skin makes contact and Jimin
kicks himself for thinking that he’d receive a raging boner from touching
Jeongguk.
“Sorry we keep you up, you fall asleep so early,” Jeongguk says, breezing past
him as if they’re discussing something as bland and unimportant as the weather.
“You stay up with us sometime.”
Jeongguk hums something under his breath, not unlike Taehyung in the mornings,
as he turns the corner and disappears back into Taehyung’s room. They remain
oddly quiet; Jimin hadn’t even known Jeongguk was here. Huh. Perhaps they
actually do things like homework and study together, too. This is a miraculous
development.
But what the fuck. Jimin is still standing, rooted to the spot, in front of the
bathroom, because did Jeon Jeongguk just invite him to engage in sex.
With them.
A threesome?
No way.
Jimin looks over his shoulder. The bathroom is just across the hall from
Taehyung’s room and the door is, once again, ajar. There’s music playing, so he
can’t tell what Taehyung is saying, but he’s on his knees and sitting back on
his heels, waving a handful of notes around animatedly. Then he pouts, slumps,
drops his hands to his lap.
That’s when Jeongguk appears in the frame, in the space between the jamb and
the edge of the door, on all fours and he’s smiling, laughing as he tips his
head up to kiss Taehyung. Jimin shivers and slams the bathroom door behind
himself. This is the same Jeon Jeongguk that had grinded so filthily against
him at the rave, the same Jeon Jeongguk that he and Taehyung had competed to
see who could steal more kisses from, the same Jeon Jeongguk that Jimin had
accidentally seen being fucked hard and gotten off to.
The same Jeon Jeongguk that just invited him to a threesome with Taehyung, and
here he is on his hands and knees giving his boyfriend butterfly kisses.
Jimin sighs, the sound coming out more like a growl in the back of his throat,
at the suggestion. He shoves his pants down to his knees and braces a hand on
the wall. He’s in the bathroom for a while.
 
“I have a hypothetical question.”
“Have you hit a blunt yet?”
“I—what? No, Taehyung, what the fuck.”
“You have to open hypotheticals the right way, Jimin.”
Jimin heaves a sigh. “Hits blunt,” he prefaces wearily. “What is your opinion
on threesomes?”
Taehyung looks up slowly.
“That’s not a hits blunt kind of question.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Have you been talking to Jeongguk?”
“Uh, not really,” Jimin says.
“Funny, because he asked me the same exact question the other day,” Taehyung
says, looking back down at his work. Jimin watches intently as the cogs turn in
his head and then he’s blinking, lifting his head up again, and staring at
Jimin in wonder.
“Seriously?” he asks. Taehyung leans in, and Jimin fights the urge to lean
back. The glitter in Taehyung’s eyes is simultaneously promising and
terrifying. “You want to?”
“You’re not mad?”
“He wants to. You want to. I don’t mind, I can try it. What’s there to be mad
about?”
“I don’t know, he’s your boyfriend, so I thought…” Jimin gestures helplessly.
“Just because you fuck someone doesn’t mean you’re dating. Can you imagine the
chaos that would ensue if that were true? Sex is sex. It’s just good fun.”
“That is one of the most intellectual and sexually positive things you’ve ever
said,” Jimin finally says. “Are you sure? Are you sure. What am I allowed to
do? Oh my god, fuck, I haven’t fucked a guy in ages, I don—”
“Yes, I’m sure, and you will be fine. We’ll lead you,” Taehyung winks when
Jimin swallows audibly. “You’re allowed to do anything he says you’re allowed
to do. His body, not mine. You can kiss him if you want. We’ll see, you know?
I’ll run it by him. The only thing you’re not allowed to do,” Taehyung chides,
wagging a finger in front of Jimin’s nose, “is try making him fall in love with
you.”
 
 
Jimin is such a jittery bundle of nerves with anticipation that he can’t even
be worried about something like that.
Taehyung goes through the next several days like such a conversation had never
taken place. Jimin doesn’t see Jeongguk come around for any of them, and life
slips by ominously—a routine of school, work, and sleep cycling back around
like clockwork as Jimin waits on tenterhooks for an invitation that seemingly
has been forgotten.
He’s leaving the house for a rush party when it comes unannounced. Hoseok has
an arm slung around Jimin’s shoulders, jabbering away at Namjoon and Yoongi.
Seokjin’s hand rests on the doorknob, fiddling with it as he waits for a text
back from someone at the frat house.
“All right, let’s go,” he says, waving a hand. The other four of them jump off
the couch—rather, three of them do, then drag Yoongi up by the wrists—gathering
around the door for their shoes.
“Jeongguk,” Seokjin says, and Jimin’s laces get tangled up his own fingers at
the name. “Hey.”
“Hey hyung,” Jeongguk says. He comes to a stop on the doormat. “Are you guys
going out? Is Taehyung home?”
There’s a raucous round of whistling and cat-calling at the question. “Is
Taehyung home,” Hoseok yowls at the top of his lungs, and all of them sans
Jimin make the most embarrassing caricatures of sex right in the doorway. Jimin
drops his face into his hands when he sees Namjoon stick his tongue in his
cheek and make salt-shaker motions next to his mouth, but Jeongguk seems to
take it as all good humor and goes on,
“So he is?”
“Yeah, he’s home,” Seokjin says, the tamest of them all, jabbing a thumb over
his shoulder. “Hey, Taehyung! Your boyf—”
Taehyung comes barrelling down the hallway in a whirl of white and purple.
Jimin steps back when they collide, and then jumps when Namjoon’s voice snags
his attention.
“Hey, you coming?”
“I, uh—”
“Jimin promised he’d hang out with us tonight!” Taehyung cuts in, saving Jimin
another bucketful of embarrassment. “Pre-arranged, hyung, sorry. Can we borrow
him for the night?”
“Oh,” Namjoon says, raising his eyebrows. “Okay. What are you guys going to
do?”
“Have a lot of gay sex,” Taehyung says, beaming. Jimin chokes on a mouthful of
his own saliva and Jeongguk just scoffs where he’s standing with his arms
crossed, one of Taehyung’s slung over his shoulders. Namjoon just rolls his
eyes.
“Just don’t burn the house down, the three of you.” As if he’s one to talk.
“Aye-aye, cap,” Taehyung says, saluting him clumsily. The door clicks when it
locks automatically, and then silence. Jimin sucks his bottom lip between his
teeth and chews on it, wondering if he should toe his shoes off right now or
something, because—
Taehyung’s not waiting for any cues. Jimin, skittish since Jeongguk had showed
up at the door, startles when there’s a thud against the back of the door, the
calendar rattling on its hooks, when Taehyung slams Jeongguk up against it,
hands fisted in the collar of Jeongguk’s holey red-and-black sweater that shows
far more skin than it covers. Jeongguk is smiling, laughing a little even, when
Taehyung leans forward and kisses him hard.
The ground tilts under Jimin’s feet and he feels like he’s back at the rave
again, watching his best friend make out with his boyfriend. They’re hardly shy
about the fact they have an audience, and after a few moments of it, Taehyung
pulls away—but not before sucking Jeongguk’s tongue into his mouth and tugging
him along, releasing only when Jeongguk’s back lifts away from contact with the
door entirely.
“You try it,” Taehyung says, wiping his mouth on his back of his hand. He
beckons Jimin with a finger. “I’m going to put the blankets down on the floor
because I don’t think that bedframe is built for three.”
Jimin blushes hard at the reminder it’s going to be three of them, as if he
isn’t hyperaware of it enough already. He slides his gaze up to Jeongguk, who’s
still leaning heavily against the door. Little rogue post-it flags litter the
floor around his feet where he’d rubbed too hard against the calendar and the
rustling sounds of blankets fill the empty spaces in the silence.
“How about it,” Jeongguk finally says, holding out a hand like a white knight.
Jimin looks at it, then back up at his face. “Wanna give it another go?”
Jimin steps forward, knocking Jeongguk’s hand out of the way, and grabs
Jeongguk around the jaw with both hands to tug his face down to his own eye
level. It’s going to be Jimin’s personal mission tonight to wipe that
infuriating smirk off Jeongguk’s face, he thinks as their lips meet, make him
cry and shake like that time he’d accidentally seen him being fucked on his
knees. Jeongguk opens his mouth to Jimin easily, gasping into his lips, skin
burning hot under Jimin’s hands when he slides them down his neck, resting on
his chest. God, Jeongguk’s sweater is seriously more holes than fabric, Jimin
thinks, tangling his fingers playfully in the frayed woollen threads.
“Like what you see?”
Jimin slants his gaze back up to Jeongguk’s face, squinting. He says nothing,
instead holding Jeongguk’s jaw in one hand and kissing him roughly again.
Jeongguk licks into Jimin’s mouth, tonguing first at Jimin’s lower lip before
he slips in further. Jimin can barely control the groan that is trapped in the
back of his throat, bubbling up deep from where the heat is scorching low in
abdomen.
“Yo,” Taehyung says. “Are you two just going to suck face for rest of the
night? Come on.”
The dynamic between the three of them is strange. Jimin, for the life of him,
wants to make Jeongguk submit for once, get under his skin, watch that
maddening smile on his lips turn into an o when he moans. But Jeongguk does
anything Taehyung tells him, asks of him, without question. He breaks away from
Jimin first, sliding a hand down his bare arm, linking their fingers togethers
and tugging Jimin down the hallway in Taehyung’s wake.
Taehyung’s blankets are layered over Jimin’s on the floor, their mattresses
stripped bare. Jeongguk collapses on his back in a heap on the floor as
Taehyung locks the door, pulling his phone out from his pocket and setting it
on do not disturb. Jimin stands awkwardly until Taehyung turns around and
stares him in the face.
“Well, get down,” he says, gesturing as if this should be obvious.
“Is this going to be weird after,” Jimin asks in a low voice. Taehyung rolls
his eyes.
“Only if you make it weird. Now—down.”
Taehyung pushes him onto the floor gently, right next to Jeongguk, who rolls
onto his side and gives Jimin that same smile he’s been giving him since the
first day at the rave.
“Pick a word,” Taehyung says, cuffing Jimin on the shoulder lightly as he
climbs the ladder to his loft, reaching under his pillow and rummaging. “A
really random one.”
“Uh,” Jimin thinks wildly. “Chill.”
Taehyung looks down at him from his perch. “Chill,” he repeats. “You want your
safe word to be chill.”
“Yeah, sure. It’s fitting, right?”
“It’s better than yours, don’t talk, hyung,” Jeongguk says. Jimin stares at
him, and Jeongguk explains, “Taehyung’s safe is ‘I came out here to have sex
and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now’ because he says you can never
know what you might say in the heat of the moment.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jimin mutters. “What else don’t I know about you? I thought we
were dicks and sperm before forty weeks to term.”
Taehyung hops down from the ladder, tossing a strand of condom packets onto the
blankets, along with the fattest tube of KY Jelly Jimin has ever laid eyes on.
He ignores him, kneeling down and sitting back on his heels.
“Chill, right?” he confirms, that same conniving glint flashing in his eyes
again. “Jeongguk’s is nationwide. Let him go if he says that. Okay. Ready?”
Jimin nods. Then, suddenly, he feels himself being pulled backwards, two arms
snaking under his armpits and locking up, pinning him back against Taehyung’s
chest. His legs are stretched out slightly, still bent from sitting with his
legs crossed, and he huffs in surprise.
“Holy shit,” he breathes.
“I got you,” Taehyung promises. Jeongguk hasn’t even moved from where he’s
lying, cheek still nestled in the soft blankets, watching with amusement as
Taehyung anchors Jimin to his own body. After a moment, he pushes himself up,
then slinks on all fours up to Jimin, straightening his legs and pushing his
thighs apart.
“Fuck,” Jimin says, and Jeongguk is excruciatingly slow in his movements, as if
he knows just how much it has Jimin’s blood sizzling in his veins. He can feel
himself half hard in his pants already, and Jeongguk seems to sense it too,
pressing his entire hand on Jimin’s crotch and smiling wider when Jimin’s hips
jump under his touch. “Fuck, don’t do this, come on.”
But Jeongguk is enjoying this. Jimin can feel Taehyung’s hearbeat speeding up
against his back, can feel his erection through his pants on the curve of his
spine, and can’t even blame him. Jeongguk is still completely clothed, doing
nothing more than palming Jimin’s cock through his jeans and he’s almost
choking up with how aroused he is.
“Pants off,” Taehyung murmurs, right next to Jimin’s ear. “Suck him off.”
The clink of Jimin’s belt is loud, Jeongguk’s fingers working calmly at his
button and zipper. When he finally slides the pants and boxers all the way off,
Jeongguk too just sits back on his heels, admiring the way Jimin is standing at
full attention for him.
“Suck him off,” Taehyung commands again, voice low and husky. Jeongguk’s
fingers circle around Jimin’s cock—thick and hard and he groans at the contact.
Jeongguk pumps slowly first, then bends down until his mouth is hovering so
close to Jimin’s cock that the wet heat is tangible.
And then he breathes on it.
“Goddammit, you fucker!” Jimin shouts, writhing in Taehyung’s iron grip, his
tank top riding up his belly as Jeongguk laughs. “You little fucking—ahh,
fuck—”
Jeongguk goes down on him without hesitation, like he’s done this a million
times. Is this what Taehyung gets to see every other day, a head of dark hair
bobbing between his legs and rose-pink lips stretched around his cock? If yes,
Jimin can hardly blame them for banging every chance they get. He just wants to
grab Jeongguk’s head with his hands, force him down on his cock harder, but
Taehyung, as lanky as he may be, is a lot stronger when Jimin is unraveled this
far.
Jimin bucks his hips, and Jeongguk’s hands come up to pin his ass down to the
floor, shifting on his knees. Jimin’s breath comes in shallow pants now, and he
throws his head back, digging into Taehyung’s collarbone because he’s so close.
And then it’s gone, the heat is gone. Of course. Jimin can’t imagine either of
them letting him have this easy. He squirms when Jeongguk rocks back so he can
shimmy his own pants off. Jimin moans in relief when Jeongguk grabs his cock in
his fist again, and his lips are so close when he seems to get an idea and lets
Jimin’s cock slap back against his abdomen again.
“What are you doing?” Taehyung asks when Jeongguk reaches for the KY Jelly,
squeezing a dollop into his palm.
“I’m going to ride him,” Jeongguk says, standing up and shucking his underwear
off.
Jimin can’t humanly believe he has to watch Jeongguk fingerfuck himself.
Taehyung has the self-control of an iron bull for staying where he is because
there is literally nothing more Jimin wants to do right now than feel his cock
inside Jeongguk right now. He seems to know just how much Jimin suffers,
spreading his knees on the blankets, rocking on one, two, three fingers until
Jimin thinks tears are pricking the corners of his eyes with desire.
“You’re a fucking menace,” Taehyung says above Jimin’s head, voice more
strained now, and Jimin is inclined to agree. Jeongguk just snickers, climbing
over Jimin’s legs and straddling him. He leans forward and over Jimin’s head he
hears them kiss sloppily, and Jimin has full view of Jeongguk’s cock, pink and
thick and a little slick with lube. But then he crouches lower and kisses Jimin
too.
“Can’t leave anyone out,” he reasons, sitting back on Jimin’s thighs and
squeezing a generous amount onto Jimin’s cock, warm hand slicking him
thoroughly. Jeongguk works fast—he rolls the condom onto Jimin with practiced
speed, pushes Jimin’s tank top up his chest as far as it will go, then reaches
up to yank his sweater off over his head.
Jimin is so distracted by Jeongguk’s naked body that it isn’t until Jeongguk is
sinking down on his cock, a helpless whine spiraling out of his throat (and
Jimin thinks he’s won this round), that his hips quiver again. He forces
himself not to buck up too soon, and Jeongguk shifts slightly in his seat
before he rolls his hips.
It’s so much. Jimin is aware of everything—every sensation is magnified, the
rub of Jeongguk’s thighs against his sides, the shake of Taehyung’s fingers
against Jimin’s shoulders, the rasp of his own breath as he pants. Jeongguk
rides Jimin slow at first, then in earnest, one hand digging into his own hair,
another one cupped around Jimin’s bent knee for support.
“Fuck up into him,” Taehyung growls in Jimin’s ear. “Fuck him until he cries.”
Jimin obeys him, snapping his hips up mercilessly, and Jeongguk throws his head
back. There it is again, that sweaty column of neck that Jimin still can’t
touch. Jeongguk’s cock slaps against his belly as he rides him harder
faster—and Jimin’s orgasm is so close, so close again—
“Stop.”
If Jimin had free hands right now, he’d punch Taehyung in the face. That is,
until he remembers Taehyung is still sitting in full clothing. Right, fuck,
he’d almost forgotten. He releases Jimin, lifting him up until he can sit on
his own. Jeongguk whimpers when he’s jostled, Jimin’s cock still pulsing inside
him, and his arms come up to hug Jimin’s head for support.
“Didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?” Jimin can’t see it, but
the soft sounds of clothes falling to the floor behind him float into his ears
through the haze of sex. “Jimin, can you take him from behind?”
Jimin nods, licking his lips and helping Jeongguk pull off his cock.
“On all fours, love,” Taehyung croons. Jimin turns around on his knees, facing
Taehyung with Jeongguk on hands and knees between them. His hands roam across
Jeongguk’s ass, pink and flushed, before they latch onto the crests of his
pelvis. “Are you tired? I’ll stay on my heels so you don’t have to hold
yourself up so much.”
Taehyung flicks his head to let Jimin know to fuck back in, and the slide is
easier this time, Jeongguk stretched out and slick for him. He cries out in
earnest when Jimin thrusts in this time, but then his sharp, high voice is
suddenly muffled, and Jimin watches as Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed, his
hands gripping Jeongguk’s hair hard.
Push and pull, push and pull. Jeongguk is giving under Jimin’s hands and he
feels so triumphant, finally getting this boy to turn into putty under his
touch. He grunts when Jeongguk figures out how to suck Taehyung’s dick and ram
back onto Jimin’s cock with perfect rhythm, clenching hard around Jimin as if
he still is trying to get the last laugh in.
“Fuck,” Jimin grunts. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”
“Do it,” Taehyung says, breath heavy. “Come with me.”
Holy shit. Jimin pitches forward one more time, the husk of Taehyung’s voice
shooting down his spine like a flash of heat, and comes so hard that fireworks
spark across the inside of his eyelids. Taehyung’s moan intertwines with his
and it takes him several dizzying seconds to come back down to earth.
Jeongguk is falling into the sheets the by the time Jimin opens his eyes, hair
clinging to his temples. Jimin wants to fall down beside him, fucked out and
legs like jelly.
“Not yet, we’re not done here,” Taehyung says, though he looks like he can
hardly support himself either. He doesn’t, instead spreading Jeongguk’s legs
out wide enough for him and Jimin to fit snugly between them, and rests his
head on the inside of Jeongguk’s thigh. Several seconds pass where he simply
pants for breath, then cranes his head forward and licks a stripe up Jeongguk’s
cock.
Jimin settles down into the space beside Taehyung, sweaty, come-sticky bodies
sliding up against each other’s. Just as Taehyung’s mouth reaches the pink head
of Jeongguk’s cock, Jimin leans in and flattens his tongue on the underside of
it. Jeongguk fists a hand in their hair, pulling them closer so roughly that
Taehyung ends up tonguing the corner of Jimin’s mouth.
Taehyung finally gets Jeongguk to come as Jimin is sucking hickeys into
Jeongguk’s cock. In one moment Jeongguk is still writhing beneath their lips,
and in the next, he’s jerking his hips up, hoarse cries filling the narrow
spaces between them.
Jimin rolls over Jeongguk’s leg, army crawling back up to eye-level with him
and collapsing face-first in the soft cotton. Taehyung sits up between
Jeongguk’s legs, watching the rise and fall of his chest. His entire body
shudders with every inhale and every exhale and the blankets beside Jimin
rustle when Jeongguk’s fists loosen where they’re curled. A smile stretches
over Taehyung’s mouth as he drags an arm over his lips. Jimin pillows his cheek
on both his hands, folded over each other, closing his eyes and syncing the
slowing rhythm of Jeongguk’s breath to his own heartrate.
“What did you think?”
Jimin opens his eyes, exhaustion painting lazy shadows over his lashes.
Taehyung is stretched out stomach-down on Jeongguk’s chest, cheek resting on
his hands, mirroring Jimin. His bangs are dark where they’re matted with sweat.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” Jimin says, eyes sliding shut again. “Both of
you.”
 
“You washed your bedsheets?” Seokjin asks incredulously the next morning,
handing Jimin a warm basket of linens. “You once went commando for a week so
you wouldn’t have to do your own laundry and here you are, washing your sheets
of your own volition?”
“Yep,” Jimin says shortly, taking the sheets from him. “Thanks, hyung.”
“Taehyung I understand,” Seokjin continues, walking away and talking more to
himself than Jimin now. “But maybe at this point, I probably shouldn’t even
ask.”
“No,” Jimin says, grinning when he closes the door behind himself. he turns
around and drops the laundry basket at his feet, barely catching the tube of KY
Jelly Jeongguk chucks at his head. He’s on his knees, fastening the last bits
of an elaborate knot, Taehyung trussed up with his arms tied behind his back.
“No, you really, really shouldn’t.”
End Notes
     [http://santopauluspku.files.wordpress.com/2014/06/
     signcross.jpg?w=812]
     credits given where credits are due, title from 50 cent’s candy_shop.
     this fic is just a lot of useless gratuitous maknaeline body
     worship??? i’m going to heaven bc at this point not even hell wants
     me this was not supposed to turn into 7k words worth of porn omg what
     the actual fuck bye #hormonewar #makeitrain #economics
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