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“Ah, hyung!” Everyone sitting at the table looks over at Jungkook when he speaks, all drawn in by the honorific said in their maknae’s voice and the fact that Jungkook hasn’t contributed much to the conversation this morning. “What happened to your back?”
The other members of the group follow Jungkook’s eyeline to find Namjoon pouring himself a drink, his back bare and facing towards them. Namjoon isn’t usually one to wander around the house shirtless, but he has been feeling himself lately, so such occasions have increased.
And Jimin also stole his t-shirt this morning, claiming he deserves it after the steamy night they shared together. With the house being so big – easy to get lost in – and Namjoon spending the night in Jimin's room, he really didn't have a lot of options.
“Huh, what?” Namjoon’s head jerks with confusion at Jungkook’s exclamation, the movement centred in his jaw. When he looks over at the table to find everyone staring at him, he turns his head and pushes his right shoulder forward, trying to get a look at his back. He misses the mark, unsurprisingly, and ends up spinning in a tiny circle. When he looks over at his boyfriends, he frowns, bewildered by the fact Seokjin is laughing at him. “What’s on my back?”
When he tries to look again, attempting to tilt his head back even further to get a look along his spine, and in the middle of his back, he hears Taehyung chuckle, seemingly at him. The sound lacks any malice, and the warm, deep tone gets louder after a few seconds. When Namjoon gives up trying to look at his back, sighing, he realises the younger man is now standing in front of him, holding up his phone.
“Here, hyung - turn around,” Taehyung smiles kindly at him, using a hand on his bare shoulder to guide him away, until Namjoon’s back is once again facing the other members. A camera shutter rings out, and then Taehyung is turning him back around and pushing his phone close to Namjoon’s face.
Grunting at the sudden movements, and flinching away slightly as the device is held close, Namjoon places his hands on either side of Taehyung’s, squinting at the phone screen.
It takes him a few seconds to register what he is seeing in the photo. When he does, his eyes widen (enough to get another cackle out of Jin) and he pushes the phone away, only to pull it straight back in.
Down his back is a vertical series of long, red slashes. There are two groups of them, a gap parting them along the dip of his spine, and there appears to be five on either side, with short, messy lines bracketing some of them. He looks like he has been mauled; the image does explain the faint soreness he has been feeling since he woke up this morning.
“Is that, oh my- Jimin!”
Jimin looks far too smug. He has his head resting in the palm of his hand, and is slouching against the dining table, with a small smile on his lips. His cheeks are flushed a pale pink, his whole face glowing, and he lets his features shift innocently when everyone turns to look at him. “Yes?”
“What did you do to my back?! When did you- how did you…”
Jimin grins mischievously, looking up from beneath his lashes in a manner so coquettish it screams trouble, and alerts everyone unaware of the night before that Jimin is behind the scratches on Namjoon’s back. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, Jimin is. (But tell him to sit and suddenly he’s a sweet little puppy.)
“Sorry, hyung.”
“You don’t sound very sorry, Jimin-ah,” Seokjin rolls his eyes as he chastises Jimin, but his weakness for the younger man shows in the glaring lack of earnest disapproval present in his tone.
“I am! I promise.” Jimin stands abruptly, his demeanour suddenly stand-offish. His chair scraping back as he does so has Seokjin momentarily concerned that Jimin is upset, about to storm off in a huff, but then his eyes zero in on the deliberate set of Jimin’s shoulders, and he is rolling his eyes before Jimin even makes it over to Namjoon.
For all that Namjoon is bigger than Jimin, the younger man carries himself better, his compact strength hidden beneath layers of kindness and beauty that create a natural, intimidating aura. Namjoon is known to fall victim to Park Jimin’s power, so it is to no one’s surprise that Namjoon freezes – his eyes wide with patent anticipation – the moment Jimin shuffles closer. No surprise, yet still slightly striking, considering how gentle Jimin looks like this. Bare feet padding softly against pale tiles, with Namjoon’s oversized t-shirt dwarfing his frame and hanging off of one shoulder.
One of them could argue that it doesn’t matter that Jimin is also wearing a pair of baggy pyjama bottoms, but that would be a lie. Because it definitely does matter. They are lucky Jimin’s thighs are currently hidden from their view, his enviable muscles hidden out of sight per Yoongi’s request.
“Ah, Namjoon, you look so pretty with my marks on you.” Jimin’s tone is deceivingly sweet as he talks, his words obscured by an unabashed smugness. Jimin crowds close suddenly, knocking his boyfriend against the kitchen side and pushing up on his tiptoes to hover his own face close to Namjoon’s. All Namjoon can see is lips. At least that’s all he feels capable of focusing on. They are pink and plump, glossy with borrowed lip balm. “I’m glad they stayed, telling everyone just how good you made me feel last night.”
In the background, someone asks, “Yah, why is he so shameless?” Namjoon has no idea who, nor does he care, locked in place by Jimin’s predatory stare, his feet planted firmly to the floor since Jimin first started stalking towards him. Jimin is shameless, yes, but it’s part of his charm - Namjoon is absolutely captivated by him, always has been.
“How do you feel about letting me make some more?”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Yoongi says, coming to Namjoon’s rescue by drawing Jimin’s eager attention towards him instead. Or maybe Yoongi is just being selfish, stealing Jimin away to have him all for himself, under the guise of allieviating Namjoon’s lustful suffering.
“Are you offering for me to mark you up instead, hyung?” Jimin asks, voice low, turning around to face the table and walk forward a few steps. With his hands behind his back and his head tilted to one side, anyone who doesn’t truly know Jimin would assume him to be the perfect picture of innocence. But the other BTS members know him for the scheming devil that he is. Namjoon has never met a succubus before, nor an incubus, but Jimin is what Namjoon could imagine them looking like in a human form.
“Considering the fact that one of those marks looks like it bled, I don’t think you should be marking anyone up, Jimin.”
Upon absorbing Hoseok’s words, Jimin swivels around to face Namjoon again, a look of panic on his face. Gone is any trace of mischief and desire, replaced with concern and guilt. He looks fretful all of a sudden, approaching Namjoon with his arms extended and his lips parted with worry. “Ah, hyung, does your back hurt? I really am sorry. Here, let me have a look.”
Rolling his eyes, Seokjin stands from his chair and approaches Jimin silently. As Jimin is inspecting Namjoon’s back, hovering his fingers over the damaged skin there, Seokjin wraps his arms around Jimin and uses the hold to tug the younger man close to his chest. Away from their wounded leader. “Relax, Jimin, we all know you didn’t mean to hurt Namjoon.”
“But-”
“We all get a bit lost in the moment, Jimin,” Namjoon tells him gently, turning around to face Jimin and sandwiching him in between the two taller men when he takes a step closer, “exhibit A, my back. I honestly don’t remember you scratching my back at all last night, and it definitely didn’t hurt when you did. Though, that may have just been the adrenaline.”
With a thoughtful hum, Seokjin glides his hands up Jimin’s torso and chest, up his elevated arms until they wrap around his hands. Pulling one towards himself, Seokjin turns Jimin’s hands to get a good look at Jimin’s nails. He finds them clean, long and healthy, looking like a natural french tip manicure. The growth on a couple of his fingers is uneven though – on both hands, it turns out – as it is longer in the very middle than it is on the edges, like perhaps Jimin forgot to file them before growing them out recently.
“To be on the safe side,” Hoseok says, in a tone so relaxed and wise that everyone in the room can immediately tell that it is forced, “maybe next time you have sex with one of us, you should let the other person tie your hands up, Jimin, just to avoid this happening again.”
“You just like the idea of tying him up,” Yoongi murmurs from beside him, amused and only slightly teasing, “admit that your suggestion has nothing to do with keeping any of us safe from Jimin’s claws.”
“Hey, they are not claws !”
In all honesty, when Hoseok suggested the other day that someone should tie Jimin up during sex, he had been subtly volunteering himself to be the one to do the honours. Sue him: the thought of his sexy boyfriend laid out all for him, like an eager and willing feast for him to cater to and enjoy, is his newfound weakness.
So it comes as a surprise, but not a disappointment, that Jimin doesn’t get tied up by Hoseok during a round of sex between just the two of them. No, instead, Hoseok finds himself, two days after the scratches appeared down Namjoon’s back, one of four men crowding around Jimin as they admire the contrast between the dark rope and Jimin’s flushed, pink skin. The effect of maroon ties versus salmon skin is stark, the difference leaving all of Jimin’s hyungs feeling weak-kneed (despite already kneeling) and embarrassed. Aroused.
“Ugh, why does he look so good in everything he wears?” Namjoon murmurs, sounding half curious, half randy, all exasperated. His head drops back, his gaze floating upwards to the ceiling in his plea for protection against the carnal image. “Gonna be the cause of my death. My tombstone will read: Death by Jimin's hotness.”
Whenever he gets particularly horny, Namjoon often begins to lose all coherency, completely separated from the astute genius the world admires. It is as amusing as it is stimulating, watching such a put together man lose himself at any glimpse of Jimin's skin.
There is nothing quite like being adored by Kim Namjoon. Nothing boosts the ego as effectively as leaving such a well-spoken, vocally opinionated man speechless.
It is one of Jimin’s favourite things to do.
Despite being the only one naked whilst the rest of them are fully clothed, Jimin looks perfectly at ease right now. His face is pressed against a pillow, his eyes hooded with desire, and his arms are pulled back behind his body. Wrists tied, legs spread, ass in the air. He looks so comfortable in his skin, and looks content enough that Yoongi had mistaken his peaceful demeanour for sleepiness when they first got him into position. But no, he just feels like this is exactly where he is meant to be.
They love this as much as he does, if not more. Jimin’s own enjoyment adds an extra layer for them all, though; it increases the sensuality of the situation that little bit more.
“This isn’t fair… hyungs…”
Jimin’s whining starts up after an excruciatingly long moment of silence. (Could have even been a mere two minutes. Or thirty seconds – for such a patient man in his day to day life, Jimin sure can be impatient when it comes to getting what he wants in the bedroom.) He doesn’t even care that the silent air is filled with longing and worshipping stares. He has been aching for an orgasm since Seokjin started prepping him, and it has been at least five minutes since he finished doing so.
“Hyungs, come oonnnn, want- ugh.” Jimin cuts himself off with a breathy sigh, pushing his face further into his pillow and squishing his cheek as a result. His body, after just a split second of buzzing with a sensual hunger, resettles itself peacefully. His voice a gentle hush, Jimin murmurs something unintelligible as he glances behind himself, looking at the others over his left shoulder with the strongest of innocent facades.
“You want Namjoon to fuck you? Is that what you want?” Hoseok asks, setting a teasing hand on the back of Jimin’s thigh, swiping slow arcs against the warm skin with his thumb. The muscles under his hand feel glorious, with no give when he squeezes, even when it should be enough to have the tan skin flashing white from the pressure. “Gonna make it up to him for what you did to him the other day? I think he deserves to fuck you without coming out looking like he fought a lion.”
“Even if it’s only a cub,” Seokjin snickers, smiling when Hoseok repeats his comment in that mean tone of his, further taunting Jimin.
“Yes! Namjoon hyung, please…”
“Please what, Jimin?” Namjoon smiles kindly as he gazes at Jimin, even though his boyfriend cannot see said smile. “What do you want me to do? What do you need from me?”
“Your cock, I need your cock. Please, let me have it.”
Jimin has only participated in sessions like this once, maybe twice, with Hoseok. But on none of those occasions has he ever reacted like this , so desperate for pleasure he would beg for it, willing to give up everything for just a taste . Hoseok only did a simple tie this time, just something that would protect them all from Jimin’s fearless claws, but not take too much time to set up or put any strain on Jimin’s limbs.
“You can have it, Jimin,” Yoongi assures him, combing gentle fingers through the thick strands of his hair, choosing to sit up against the headboard to rest comfortably, “Don’t worry. We didn’t tie you up just to punish you. We just want to keep everyone safe, yeah? So that you don’t hurt anyone by scratching them again. Aside from the ropes, Jimin, everything is the same as normal. You want cock,” Jimin nods hastily, even though Yoongi isn’t expecting a response, not even asking him a question, “then we’ll give you cock,”
A couple of them giggle at Jimin’s impassioned answer, stroking soft lines down his body to show they aren’t laughing in an effort to humiliate him. He doesn’t seem to care, though, arching his back and lifting his ass higher in the air, smirking to himself when he immediately feels a finger start prodding at his entrance. The touch is gentle, but the finger is thick and clumsy, and the idea that Namjoon couldn’t wait any longer when faced with the sight of him warms his heart. (And makes his cock twitch.)
“Namjoon,” Jimin whines, pushing him, encouraging, begging for him to act already, “don’t tease.” Namjoon pushes his finger in further, to the knuckle, in response, and fucks it in and out of Jimin slowly, counting with an irritating, “In, out,” just to have Jimin whine his name again.
“Ah, Namjoon, he said don’t tease,” Seokjin points out, tapping Namjoon’s arm with the back of his hand. ”Come on.”
Namjoon smiles – not maliciously, not teasingly, but with pure, unadulterated content and excitement – as he pulls his finger out of Jimin’s hole, gliding his hand across his right asscheek, giving it a squeeze before letting go completely. He shuffles back from Jimin as he starts undressing, getting caught with his arms up, his t-shirt trapping him as it catches on his head and tangles around his arms.
Sighing (endeared, but don’t tell anyone), Seokjin leans forward to help Namjoon untangle himself from his clothes, slapping his shoulder when the younger man continues to struggle, fidgeting unhelpfully. “Stay still,” Seokjin orders sharply, his expression instantly softening once Namjoon becomes still, allowing him to work quickly and efficiently. He tries to line his tone with an air of exasperation as he talks, but he doesn’t quite manage. Yoongi smiles at the shy fondness. “You’re infuriating – one of these days, I’m calling weaponised incompetence.”
“I don’t mean-”
“Up,” Seokjin interrupts, tapping Namjoon on the bum and gesturing for him to move off the bed for a moment. He helps Namjoon out of his shorts and boxers, then pushes him back onto the bed, laughing when he tumbles and collapses on his back on the mattress.
“Namjoon.” Namjoon’s head shoots in Yoongi’s direction when the other says his name, his eyes wide and fretful. “Jimin is waiting for you. Quit messing around.”
Not that he needs to, since Namjoon is up and crawling across the bed as soon as Yoongi speaks his name, but Jimin whines and nods, scruffing his hair up against the pillow. Yoongi doesn’t complain as his hand is jostled, simply waiting for Jimin to pause the action before continuing to pet his head softly.
It is clear, written across every centimetre of his body, that Namjoon is feeling a little out of sorts right now. His eyes are wide with a combination of different emotions, from surprise to veiled insecurity, and his pupils are blown wide with lust. Dilated as if to absorb as much of Jimin as possible, their only true light in this dark world. His cock stands tall, flushed and aching, begging to be inside of Jimin, to use Jimin to get himself off. But at the same time, he has the sweetest smile growing on his face, always enjoying the time he gets to spend with his boyfriends, whether the nature of their time together be work-related or sexual.
Shuffling up behind Jimin, kneeling, Namjoon moves cautiously. He moves with the slow carefulness he always employs around precious things, no matter their strength or fragility. (Jimin has both in vast capacities.) His hand settles on Jimin hips, curving around the hip bones with a speed that perfectly portrays the reverence he holds for the man before him.
A moan fights its way out of Namjoon’s throat as he enters Jimin for the first time in years (it’s been two and a half days, if that). He fucks into Jimin with short, jerky thrusts, practically pulling out further than he pushes in. His head drops back, his eyes ready to drift shut and just enjoy the opportunity, but a body crowding up behind hip prevents him from losing focus. An additional pair of hands wrap around Jimin’s hips, cradling Namjoon’s own and preventing them from dropping away, too lost in a daze as he is. A chest presses in close behind him, bare pecs moulding to his back as Seokjin leans in to whisper in his ear, “Come on, Namjoon, fuck him like you mean it.”
Jimin may be the one in the vulnerable position, may be the one with another man’s cock inside him, tied up to let four men do as they please with him, but Namjoon is the one Seokjin is teasing. The tone he uses glides down Namjoon’s spine like molten silver – much like his singing voice – and forges goosebumps along his arms and shoulders. His breath is warm against Namjoon’s ear, and his neck, unspoken words flitting around Namjoon’s head like buzzing bees. Unspoken at this moment, but never completely unsaid.
Namjoon can get a bit useless during sex, is the thing. He loses himself in his partner’s pleasure, every thrust performed with mindless passion, seeking more of his partners’ moans; every kiss is placed with the same yearning, so many missing their target, landing wherever his mouth drops, half-open; most of his orgasms coming in second to everyone else’s. (If he gets his way at least.)
He can get animalistic, too
The reason why he didn’t notice the scratches Jimin was making down his back the other day is because his human brain had drifted elsewhere, replaced by the hounding base instincts of a rutting dog. Driving into Jimin with an uncoordinated chaos, unaware of the things he was mumbling against Jimin’s neck in a whiny voice, consumed by the power of their coupling. Jimin hadn’t whined, nor begged, that night. No, instead he had goaded. His voice, high-pitched and breathy, had called Namjoon’s name teasingly, taunting him for the man (fool) he is. Soft and coquettish, Jimin had lured him in easily, a siren promising him safe travel. His beauty, his vigour, had driven Namjoon wild, leaving his mind blank as Jimin flashed his fangs and shred jagged lines down Namjoon’s back with his claws.
The injury had been painless, Namjoon high on adrenaline and carnal affection. Even in the aftermath, Namjoon had registered nothing but a faint ache, which had spread through his body like a balm to his fervid being, distracting him from the physical evidence of his night with Jimin.
As an, admittedly, big guy, it wasn’t often that Namjoon came out of a hookup looking more dishevelled than the classic messy hair and orgasm-happy (dopey) grin. His partners would mock him about bite marks on their inner thighs, bruises on their hips in the shape of his fingers, and a pleasant ache. But they never gave him anything to show off the way he did for them, even if he did so without consciously meaning to.
That is, until Namjoon slept with a fellow member of the band for the first time. (Jimin leaves a mean hickey. Just ask Jungkook.)
And now, in his current relationship, his forever relationship, Namjoon has everything he could ever want. He can pamper, be papered; can ruin, be ruined; can worship, be worshipped. It’s glorious.
So even after Namjoon was made aware of the mess Jimin made of his back, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything other than absolutely elated . Yoongi wouldn’t stop teasing him about the lovestruck grin he wore for the rest of the day.
“Namjoon!” Jimin’s gasp pulls Namjoon’s attention away from where his cock and Jimin’s hole meet. It is as he snaps out of his daze that Namjoon realises he has been fucking Jimin on autopilot for a little while, his soul and safety entrusted to four of the most important people in his life. He can still feel Seokjin’s strong body behind him, one hand still on Jimin;s hip, the other on Namjoon’s hip . His body rocks against Namjoon’s, the slight force behind the action all coming from the lower body. It takes him a moment, but Namjoon eventually figures out why. Seokjin refuses to relent, helping Namjoon to keep his rhythm of thrusting into Jimin with all the finesse of a sheltered virgin, and simultaneously fucking Jimin through Namjoon.
“Agh, Jimin-”
“You made him feel so good, Namjoon,” Seokjin whispers in the aforementioned man’s ear, his voice low and husky, tinged pink with praise. Namjoon thinks he is referring to the orgasm Jimin very clearly just had, but then he registers the little grunting noises he is making, the ones he makes when someones fucks him through an orgasm, then stays to have their fun with him. Which, oh- “You’re fucking him so good he came in five minutes,” Yoongi laughs at Seokjin’s words, but doesn’t reveal whether they are true or not, “I would let you fuck him through another orgasm but I think you need one yourself, don’t you? You went wild, baby, an uncivilised animal. You seem so well-spoken and smart, don’t you? But you’re just big and dumb, aren’t you? Such a big cock, but no sense of what to do with it when you put it in pretty boys like Jimin.” Jimin preens, his hole tightening around Namjoon at the praise, causing Namjoon’s hips to falter. Making Jimin practically wail at the loss. Seokjin laughs at the both of them, thoroughly amused.
Namjoon’s orgasm washes over him at the very next instance of his name falling from Jimin’s (plump, oh so plump, they deserve to be kissed) lips. The only thing keeping him up is Seokjin’s embrace, preventing him from collapsing forward onto Jimin’s back, leaving him trembling in place as pleasure sets his limbs alight. He feels weird, not being held by Jimin as he comes, but he also knows that the scratches down his back still aren’t fully healed, so it’s better to be on the safe side like this.
It takes some manoeuvring, but eventually Namjoon finds himself lying flat on the mattress, with his head propped up by a pillow and his body shadowed by Jimin’s own kneeling figure. Their lips meet in a languid kiss, slow but still messy – and a tad painful, what with the introduction of teeth – as Jimin’s core is working in overdrive to keep his body up now that it can’t rest limply against the mattress. Namjoon doesn’t want to put any unnecessary strain on Jimin, though, so as soon as they pull away from the kiss he tugs Jimin down on top of him, until they are lying chest to chest. Their noses bump.
Namjoon appreciates the pressure of Jimin’s body on top of his own.
The older three men give them a chance to bask in their afterglow together, pink-cheeked with damp foreheads and a dreamy look in their eyes.
And then Jimin is moaning sweetly against Namjoon’s cheek, then into his mouth. When he checks, he finds Yoongi kneeling behind Jimin, in between Namjoon’s legs. He’s naked, which they all love to see. The man bends to leave gentle kisses along Jimin’s shoulder blades, encasing tied-up hands in one of his own.
“You still want more, Jimin?” Yoongi asks, and Jimin’s enthusiastic consent is all he needs to hear before he takes to filling the spot Namjoon so recently vacated. Yoongi groans, long and beautifully unashamed, as he bottoms out, and from this angle Namjoon gets to see the expressions on both of their faces.
“Gorgeous,” Namjoon murmurs in awe, staring at them with no regard for his intensity, and having the gall to relish in the bashful looks that cross their faces. He goes to say more, goes to wax poetic about the two deities above him, only to be interrupted by Jimin smacking his lips against his. They devolve into tiny, thoughtless kisses, broken up by Jimin’s frequent pouting and pleading.
When Jimin first goads Yoongi to fuck him faster, Yoongi ignores him. He continues with his own preferred rhythm, soft and slow, but also deep and powerful. The second time Jimin begs, “More, hyung, please, more,” Yoongi laughs at him, laughs with Hoseok, and instead reaches around to stroke Jimin’s cock leisurely.
But the third time. The third time, Yoongi actually listens. He fucks into Jimin faster, letting go of the younger man’s cock to hold his hips instead. The speed of his thrusts increases but they don’t lose any power, so on the third or fourth thrust, Yoongi rocks Jimin’s body enough for Namjoon to flatten against the mattress, his upper body nudging up the bed a miniscule amount. (So. Fucking. Hot.)
Not usually one to overexert himself in the bedroom (a few of them like to leave that down to the dance line), Yoongi seems a little worse for wear. His bangs are visibly damp with sweat, clumped against his forehead, until Seokjin brushes them back with a snigger, cooling him slightly. His face is flushed and shiny, his words breathy.
“We should have tied you up ages ago, Jimin,” Yoongi says, fighting to keep his eyes open. “I could have avoided so many scratches if I just cuffed your hands. I know we never spoke about it – I never really thought about it too much, to be honest, because it didn’t exactly happen every time – but it is a bit of a problem.”
The others all agree, humming their assent, but Jimin doesn’t pout until he sees Namjoon nod in front of him.
“I don’t mean to, hyung.”
“We know, Jimin,” Yoongi assures, slowing the speed of his thrusts as he rubs a gentle, comforting hand up and down’s Jimin’s right side, cradling his waist, “We know. We know you don’t mean to hurt us. You just get so carried away, don’t you? It’s a bit of an ego boost, I won’t lie – we make you feel so good you forget what you’re doing, and all you want to do is have more of us.”
“Yes, yes,” Jimin agrees hastily, nodding emphatically, “I want all of you. Always want you. Hyung, please- inside, come on, please.”
Jimin’s plea takes on a desperate tone towards the end, tugging fiercely at Yoongi’s heartstrings, a man who hates to hear his boyfriends seriously call for something they want but fear they cannot have. (They deserve the world and more.)
“Jimin, ah-”
After Yoongi comes, he waits a moment before pulling out of Jimin slowly, looking down at his boyfriend’s dripping hole as he does. He goes to wipe up some of the cum that has spilt out, eager to push it back inside Jimin’s eager hole with his finger, but Hoseok’s hand on his forearm stops him from doing so. Yoongi looks up, his lips tilting down in the beginnings of a frown, and notices Hoseok opening his mouth to say something.
“Hobi-hyung next.”
Instead of saying what he was going to, before Jimin interrupted, Hoseok simply laughs as he strips off his comfortable clothes. Seokjin grunts and giggles when he gets a pair of boxers to the face, gawking dramatically, whereas Jimin shuffles to throw off the t-shirt that landed on his back. “Hyung,” he admonishes, which is cute, considering how blatant desperate Jimin is right now, and tied up in knots Hoseok put him in. “Just fuck me already. You’re too slow.”
Seokjin watches with mild interest as Hoseok grabs the lube from where the eldest man dropped it earlier. His fingers must brush Namjoon’s hips, because he shivers, but Seokjin ignores that in favour of focusing on what Hoseok is about to do. He knows the dancer has an inclination towards sex that is wet and messy, but surely two loads of cum is enough to provide him a smooth, easy glide inside Jimin.
Eyebrows rise on either side of Hoseok. (Yoongi and Seokjin, as stoic as they can pretend to be on camera, even for a laugh in front of their fans, struggle to control the expressiveness of their faces when in bed.) But instead of using the lube to slick his own cock, Hoseok jerks Jimin’s cock once, twice, leaving it a blushing red, already aroused from brushing against Namjoon’s with every breath the two of them take. (Already weeping from the way Yoongi teased him.)
Jimin complains, but Hoseok doesn't look like he cares. He wipes the excess lube off by rubbing his hand over Jimin’s thighs, between his legs. Then he collects some of Yoongi’s cum that is dripping out of Jimin and uses that to slick Jimin’s thighs too.
“Oh, good idea,” is Seokjin’s contribution as soon as he realises what Hoseok is intending to do, “that’s always a good time.”
Said ‘good idea’ happens to involve Hoseok ordering Jimin to clamp his legs together, involving a bit of shifting as he moves from his position straddling Namjoon to rest his knees in the V between his legs. With his hands gripping Jimin’s hips, Hoseok thrusts his hips forward to press his cock into the nonexistent gap between Jimin’s muscular thighs.
“Oh, yes!”
The sounds Jimin and Hoseok make mirror each other. Enthusiastic and erotic, the two men lose themselves, Hoseok chasing his own orgasm in a way that leaves Jimin fighting to feel any small nudge of friction, relying on the touch against his balls as Hoseok fuck his thighs. Jimin doesn’t appear to care, though, as vocal about his pleasure as he was with Namjoon and Yoongi. He does thrust back against Hoseok in a way he didn’t with the other two, his body betraying itself by revealing how much he longs to be filled again. Hoseok clearly has no intention of fucking him properly, but he will take whatever his boys are willing to give him.
(Full transparency, Taehyung had once woken up spooning him, pressing his morning erection against Jimin’s ass. This was years ago, way back before this had become a thing, so they had been too scared to look at each other or speak, but also reluctant to pull away from the pleasurable contact. In the end, Taehyung had humped him like Jimin was nothing to him but a pillow, and Jimin had muffled his sounds to avoid being overheard by the manager in the room next door. When Taehyung came, finally building up the courage to peer over at Jimin, he was surprised to find a dark stain on the front of Jimin’s grey shorts. Jimin couldn’t meet his eyes, but it was clear what he had done. They still don’t talk about that one morning six years ago, even after all these confessions.)
“Hurry up, Hoba, I don’t have all day, you know. This face doesn’t stay pretty by waiting.” Seokjin pokes fun from beside him, but his words are laced with a small amount of seriousness. Turning to him with a cheeky smile, Hoseok lets go of Jimin to pull Seokjin in for a kiss, only pulling away to watch his cum drip down Jimin’s thighs, making a mess on the sheets below.
Hoseok and Seokjin share another kiss as they trade places. Seokjin settles behind Jimin with the same confidence he had earlier, before devolving Jimin into a stuttering mess from just a little bit of prostate stimulation.
This time, Seokjin doesn’t push a finger inside Jimin. Instead, he places a hand on either side of Jimin’s ass to pull his cheeks apart, leaning down to lick a line over his hole, just one, as if only seeking to get a taste of those that have come before him (literally).
Maybe it’s because of how long they have been going for, or maybe it’s because of the uncomfortable ache of arousal following an orgasm starting to set in, or maybe it’s because his body is frustratedly chasing that second orgasm that Hoseok denied him of, but Jimin is much more frantic this time around.
Every thrust of Seokjin’s hips seems to shake something deep inside Jimin. His lips are parted permanently around an elongated moan, little hitches in his breathing jostling his chest against Namjoon’s, who is still lying beneath him like it’s where he belongs.
Pretty quickly, Seokjin realises he isn’t going to be able to draw this out the way he did earlier, can't just finger Jimin until he pleads for cock in that tantalising voice of his. No, not with how quick it becomes obvious that Jimin is crying, small sniffles echoing around the room as Jimin bites at Namjoon’s collarbones, small nibbles that disrupt his mindless begging.
Pausing briefly until Namjoon assures them all that Jimin is fine, confirming Jimin’s own answer, Seokjin pulls out of Jimin slowly. He pulls the other up on his knees by his shoulders, turning him until they are facing each other. Seokjin leans down, pleased to see Yoongi’s head pop up over Jimin’s shoulder as the other man embraces the crying sub. As soon as Jimin feels plump lips wrap around his cock, watching through blurry eyes as Seokjin sucks him into his mouth, he comes.
This second orgasm is just as good as the first, if not better, bordered with tears and a familiar ache of too much, more please, too much, wait, yes more. Jimin goes boneless in Yoongi’s arms, letting his boyfriends flit around him to work him free of the constraining rope. Soft fingers massage his arms, rubbing caring circles into the warm skin to ensure they maintain feeling
Happy to be catered to – for now – Jimin goes quietly and easily when someone guides him away from his mess. Strong arms, corded with thick muscle, lift him easily, cradling his body against a hard chest. Namjoon’s chest. Namjoon carries Jimin out of the room and into the bathroom, where he passes Jungkook on his way through the hall, having just come from where Namjoon is heading. The younger man raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, smirking as he pats Namjoon’s bicep and continues on his way, presumably off to gossip with Taehyung. A prepared bath is what Namjoon finds when he enters the bathroom, bubbly water with a pretty blue gradient. All of Jimin’s favourite products have been laid out, too, beside a pile of fabric Namjoon is pretty sure consists of other people’s clothes – yep, that’s Tahyung’s t-shirt, but oversized clothing is Jimin’s favourite when he doesn’t have anyone to impress.
And truly, he doesn’t have anyone to impress here, because they are all already smitten with him. He could tear them all to shreds and they would all say thank you after. Would just bring out the ropes a little sooner the next time. If Jimin chooses to grace them with a next time.
Whilst Namjoon goes about cleaning up Jimin, even washing his hair, Yoongi and Seokjin stay in the bedroom a little longer, just long enough for Yoongi to give Seokjin a mind-blowing orgasm. They then change the sheets on the bed together, making quick work of it with a spare set they find in the wardrobe. They then head down to the kitchen to prepare something for them all to snack on. (Jimin’s favourite of course, so get over here Jungkook, they have all the ingredients for tteokbokki.)
Entrusting Namjoon with the first stage of Jimin’s aftercare, Hoseok heads down the hall to his own room, returning with a small makeup bag his sister once lent him but never received back. He makes his way down to the dining room, where he sets up his little station. He pulls out two small bottles from the makeup bag, along with a nail file and a pair of clippers, not that he actually intends to use the latter item.
Bath over, Namjooon dresses Jimin and guides him downstairs to the dining room as he was instructed to earlier. Jimin seems surprised at what he finds, but a shy smile quickly spreads across his face. He hums happily as Namjoon guides him down to sit on his lap, in the chair opposite from Hoseok.
“Hand, Jimin,” looking down at Hoseok’s expectant hand, Jimin hesitates only a second before placing his own hand on top, palm up. Hoseok tuts, but smiles sweetly, turning Jimin’s hand over so that his nails are facing upwards. He makes quick work of filing the nails on both of Jimin’s hands, keeping the longer length but tidying them up. (And also making them slightly safer for scratching others with.)
“How do you feel about blue, Jimin? With a smiley on the pinkies.”
“Sounds great, hyung,” Jimin murmurs honestly, resting back against Namjoon with a content smile. “Bet you’re gonna make me so pretty.”
“You’re already the prettiest.”
From the kitchen, Yoongi watches the domestic sight with an endeared smile on his face, though his gaze catches on something on Namjoon’s collarbones. With a sigh, he looks back into the kitchen, quickly meeting eyes with Seokjin. “I think we’re going to have to gag him next time.”