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Toji's stood in the dim hallway, his tanned body bare from the waist up. Scars litter his flank in pale streaks. He never tells you about them. He never tells you about much at all, really. His secrecy only bolsters the magnetic pull he has on you. Not that he needs any help with that, you muse as you watch him pull on a tight dark tee. The fabric catches on the swell of his chest before sliding down over those carved ridges of abs. There's something about the way he moves; panther-like, unhurried, ready to pounce.
"You remember my boy’s comin’ over tonight, yeah?" he says, voice low. There’s a gravel to it this morning, like he’s halfway through a hangover or halfway to his next. He glances over his shoulder to you, and tugs the corner of his mouth up in a smile. "Shiu. Known him for years. You'll like him."
You take pause at that, eyebrow raised. "You want me to be here for that?"
When he first brought up having Shiu over, you assumed you’d make yourself scarce for the evening and give them their privacy. You don’t mind. When it comes to Toji’s job, whatever it is, you know it’s best not to ask and you don’t. You try not to look overly pleased at the prospect. Meeting someone from that closed-off world of his... it itches under your skin in a way you don’t want to scratch too hard at. What does a man like Toji do for work that he keeps so tight-lipped?
He turns fully, eyes on you now. "Course I do." He stalks forward a step, sets a hand at your hip. His other traces a line up your arm to your throat, thumb under your jaw. "What, you think I’m gonna have drinks with the guy and not show him the best thing I’ve got?".
You bite back a grin, and he sees it. The hand at your throat presses warm and possessive. "Wear that little black dress tonight, yeah? The one with the slit. Makes me wanna ruin your makeup every time I see you in it."
Warmth pools low in your stomach and flutters hot under your skin. You sip your coffee and roll your eyes with exaggerated boredom. "Guess I can play hostess. Make some snacks. Break out the fine china. Hell, I’ll sing and dance and everything. Anything for you and our guest, right?”
"Don’t tempt me," he laughs. Toji kisses you sharp and sudden, biting your lower lip before pulling away. Then he’s gone – wallet in his back pocket, keys in his hand, the scent of his cologne lingering. You stand there in his wake, thighs pressed together and heart thudding a little faster.
###
Morning sunlight had faded into the soft gold of early evening, stretching shadows across the kitchen tiles. Now the clock ticked toward seven, and the low hum of anticipation buzzed in your chest. You didn’t know much about Shiu, just his name, and a smirk in a blurry photo. Whatever they were in on, tonight you’d finally get a glimpse.
Your dress pulls tight across your hips, clinging to you like a second skin. Toji’s taste is specific. Primal. He likes when you look like something he'd have to break rules to touch. The slit rides up too high when you sit, so you perch on the couch’s edge, ankles crossed and wine glass in hand. You’ve glossed your lips generously, and your hair is pinned up with a few strands dangling loose by design.
The knock comes sharp and fast. Three short raps. Toji answers. No "come in." No warning. Just opens the door. Shiu stands there, and scans the room like he’s checking for exits. He’s tall, lean. Not as broad as Toji, but his body’s built in that same slick way. His white shirt is open at the throat, sleeves cuffed. His hair's neat, like he gives a shit, but there’s an edge to him. Something wolfish. With deft fingers, he tucks a cigarette behind his ear. He doesn’t smile when he sees you, just raises his brows a little.
Toji jerks his head. "Shiu. This’s her."
Shiu lets his eyes linger. He doesn't pretend not to. He drags that gaze over your legs, your neckline, your mouth – and you feel it. Heat blooms in your cheeks.
"Fucking hell," he says with a slow whistle as he slinks inside. "Didn’t think you had it in you, Toji."
Toji grins, savage. "I’m not all stab wounds and bad decisions."
Shiu blinks, catches himself. “Ah, where are my manners,” he mutters, low and smooth. “Apologies for addressing Toji first. Habit, you understand.”
He steps toward you with a charming sort of languor; a man who never has to rush to own a room. His eyes find yours, dark and glimmering with something more than polite interest. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you.” There's an edge of careful reverence to his voice. “You’re even more beautiful than Toji let on. Which is saying something, considering the mouth on him.”
He reaches for your hand without hesitation, bringing it gently it to his lips. The kiss is anything but chaste, it’s warm and laden with intention. His eyes don’t leave yours, and when his lips brush your skin, your heart kicks violently in your chest and sends a bolt of heat through you. He releases your hand slowly, fingers trailing a second too long. The coy smile on his face is gentlemanly, and completely unrepentant. Shiu slips out of his jacket and folds it over the arm of the loveseat like he owns the place. He settles in opposite your spot on the couch with a lazy, catlike sprawl.
"Hope you don't mind if I light up later," he says, already fishing for a lighter.
You raise your glass. "Only if you share."
Toji laughs again. "Careful with this one. She bites."
Shiu leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Good," he says, eyes locking on yours. "Wouldn’t be worth it if she didn’t."
###
The wine’s dark and cheap but rich in your mouth, its earthy flavour clinging to your tongue. You’re sat with one leg tucked under you. Your dress creeps up with every shift of your thighs, the hem daring itself higher. Beside you on the couch, elbow propped on the arm, Toji toys with his lighter. Flick-flick-flick. A little habit of his when he’s deep in thought. Shiu’s on the armchair, long legs splayed, and dangles his wineglass between two fingers as if he’ll will it into something stronger.
The talk’s easy but coarse, typical men raised on cracked pavement and late-night brawls. They don’t censor for your benefit, not Toji, not Shiu, and that’s what makes it all the more weirdly domestic. There's something wholesome in it, almost. Like when a plumber is over, and you watch your man joke with him over beers. Except the plumber wears a shoulder holster under his suit jacket, and your man’s got a locked box with bloodstains on the lid.
They’re mid-story now, something about a client, or a contact, or some dumb bastard with too much mouth and not enough sense. Toji snorts, deep and warm, and your toes curl a little at the sound. You giggle too, not even because it’s that funny, but because the wine’s got you light and there’s something magnetic in this little scene. You find yourself adrift. Your eyes flit between the two of them and the thoughts come uninvited, lush and fuzzy with merlot.
Toji's a kind of handsome that doesn't make sense on paper. Rough features. Crooked grin. That scar across his lip looks like it was earned in a fight he didn’t lose. His body’s all hard shapes. His presence has a weight to it, real and dense, like heat from a furnace. When he looks at you, it's like you’re stood too close to the flame; dangerous, but fuck if you don't lean in anyway.
Shiu though… he’s all slink and angles. A lean, dangerous kind of pretty, like a blade in low light. His shirt’s loose at the collar, one button too many undone, silver chain glinting at his throat like a little secret. His smirk’s thinner, more wicked. There’s a keenness in his eyes that makes your skin prickle, like he can read you when he doesn’t even try.
Sat there, you sway a little on the couch, wine heavy in your veins, cheeks flushed, thighs pressed tight—
"Hey, doll."
You stir from your reverie. Toji’s voice is gentle, but there’s an amused edge to it.
"You mind grabbin’ the bottle? Glasses are running a little dry."
You blink, and realise yours is halfway to empty. Across you, Shiu swirls the dregs of his wine idly. You’ve been sat there agog like a schoolgirl between two delinquents who know exactly what they look like. You set your glass down quickly and stand.
"Of course," you say.
As you walk off toward the kitchen, the air shifts. You feel them both watch, the weight of two gazes settling on your back. Not subtle. You know how the dress sits; just barely below your ass when you stand still. With every step it rides up, and the fabric moves like liquid as your hips sway soft and slow. You make no effort to hide it. Why would you?
Toji leans slightly on the couch, watching you disappear down the hall.
Shiu's head tilts, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek. "Bloody hell," he mutters, voice low enough not to carry, but rich with that dangerous mirth.
Toji’s already smirking. They clink glasses.
In the kitchen, you smile to yourself. Your heartbeat thuds fast beneath your ribs. The lighting in here is colder than in the lounge – more sterile, surgical. The stark white of the downlights cuts through the hazy wine heat that swirls round your head. The bottle's slick in your grip, label peeled a bit at the edge where condensation has clung and bled. You pop the cork with a quiet thup and grab the bottle. Your nails clink on the glass as you wrap your fingers around the neck.
###
Every step back down that hall feels heavier. You know they watched. Talked. They look up as you come back in. Toji’s mouth twitches. Shiu’s gaze is hooded, but fixed on you like a hawk that’s sighted a hare. You top up Toji’s glass first, then Shiu’s. His fingers brush yours as he takes it, and he gives you a sly look, teeth barely visible. His lips are pursed like he’s been holding back a line he’s dying to say. You pour your own last, nearly to the brim, then turn to slide back into your spot on the couch.
“Nah. C’mere.” Toji’s voice rings out like a gunshot.
You freeze mid-step. He looks at you with that cocky ease of his. With one hand already lifted, he flexes his fingers in a come here motion. You blink at him, lips parted – but he’s already reaching. He plants a palm right at your waist and tugs you in till you’re between his legs, and your knees nudge against the spread of his thighs.
“Toji, I—” you start, but the words barely form before he pulls again, stronger now, and guides you down into his lap to straddle his thigh. Your dress rides up dangerously, the silky stretch of your panties pressed flush to his hard, jean-clad muscle. You face forward, toward Shiu. Shiu, who hasn’t said a word but is now sipping his wine real slow, his eyes levelled right at you like a man settled in for the best bit of a film.
The heat between your legs pulses. The pressure of Toji’s thigh against your cunt is intense, especially after the wine, after the thoughts, after the way they’d both been undressing you with their eyes. You shift, slightly, trying to regain some modesty. Your hands come up to rest on Toji’s arms. He wraps them round you, slides his big palms slow like syrup down the curve of your waist, then lower, over the swell of your hips. He massages you through the dress, thumbs dipped in to trace the crease where thigh meets ass.
You hiss quiet under your breath, flustered, and glance quickly to Shiu. His mouth's parted now, barely, hovering the rim of the glass an inch from his lips.
You lean your head back and whisper into the side of Toji’s jaw. “Don’t get carried away,” you stammer, throat tight. “Toji… your mate’s right there!”
He laughs, deep and rich. His breath fans hot against your ear, and his fingers ease over your hips like you’re clay for him to grip and mould to shape. “Angel,” Toji murmurs, voice dipped in amusement. His lips brush just behind your earlobe. “No need to be shy.” Toji’s thumbs press in harder as he kneads at the base of your ass now, under Shiu’s watchful eye. "Shiu’s a good friend," he says. “A real good friend. He’s heard a lot about you.”
You stiffen. Your heart kicks fast. Dizzying swirls of arousal and humiliation coil round each other like snakes in your gut. You know he’s playing. You hope he’s playing. But the way his voice drips with pride, with possession, like you're a prize he’s lay out on the table – it makes your core throb and twitch around the bulk of his leg. Your whole body’s braced. A crackling tension jolts up your spine with every shift of Toji’s thigh beneath you. Shiu's eyes haven’t left you. His fingers are steepled under his chin as he takes in the spectacle. But you know better, it’s not just watching. That look is loaded, molten, barely held at bay by the thinnest thread of manners he’s clearly ready to snap.
Toji’s breath hums at your neck, warm and fucking smug. “You wanted to play hostess, aye?” he murmurs. His hand cups your jaw, fingers under your chin like you’re a goblet he’s about to drink from. Then he grins, wide and cocky. “So why don’t we entertain our guest, Mr. Kong?”
You try to twist slightly, murmur his name in protest, but your voice is soaked in wine and want, and all that comes out is a breathy half-sound that’s neither yes nor no – just needy.
He chuckles, low and rumbling, one of those sounds that reverberates in your chest more than your ears. One thick palm comes up to paw at your tits through the dress with rough, greedy squeezes. The fabric strains tight and your nipples harden beneath the thin black cloth. He rolls the weight of you in his palm, like he’s showing off, making sure Shiu sees it.
“Fuck…” Shiu mutters low, like he doesn’t mean to say it out loud.
Toji’s grin widens at your neck. His other hand has already slipped down, dragging your hem up slow, achingly slow, baring the smooth skin of your thighs inch by inch till the dress is bunched at your waist and your soaked little panties are on full display under the amber light.
“Christ, look at that.” Toji flicks his tongue across his teeth. “So fuckin’ wet already.” His finger hooks under the waistband, gives it a teasing tug. With a snap! it slaps back against your skin, making you jolt. The sting is nothing compared to the burst of hot, dizzying embarrassment and sheer fucking need that floods you.
A moan escapes your throat before you can even clamp it down.
Toji laughs. Full-bodied, pleased with himself like a bastard. “Aye. That’s it, angel. Let it out.”
The heat in your cunt near unbearable. The lace of your panties sticks between your lips as you ache and squirm on his thigh. Shiu leans back slightly. He slides his hand down the front of his thigh like it’s casual, but you catch the bulge strained under the cut of his slacks. His eyes greedily drink up the sight of you by the mouthful.
###
The air has gone thick. Your whole body prickles. The pulse that thrums between your legs makes you want to rub against them like a needy thing, and you hadn’t even made it to your second glass of wine. It’s all breath and heat and the burning gazes that set your skin ablaze from two angles. The thick muscle of Toji’s thigh flexes every time you rock against it, desperate for any friction to soothe your maddening desire. You pant now, small gasps caught in your throat, mouth half-open, flushed from cheek to chest. You know what you must look like—straddled across your man like a lap dancer mid-shift, tits heaving behind that clinging black dress, eyes glassy with wine and want.
Shiu watches you with a laser sighted focus, hand now palming himself slow and steady through his trousers. He murmurs under his breath, low and reverent. Toji ghosts his breath along your neck. He ventures one hand up along your dress, fingers hooking the halter at the base of your throat. With one sharp tug it gives way, the fabric drops and your tits bounce free into the cool evening air.
“Look at that,” he growls. “No bra, huh?”
You whimper, try to cover yourself, but he’s already got both hands full. His thumbs brush your nipples in wide, cruel circles, making them pebble tight and ache for more.
“Already planned on givin’ Shiu a little show tonight, did you?” he croons. His lips right at your ear now, biting it gently. “Wanted both our eyes on you, is that it?”.
“N-no,” you mewl, voice embarrassingly high and breathy.
Toji laughs. That cruel, wicked fucking laugh that says I know better. He rolls one nipple between thick fingers and gives it a tug that makes your back arch and your moan split the air.
"Your body's saying otherwise, sweetheart," Shiu says, voice thick like treacle. His hand is inside his waistband now. With lazy twists his wrist glides in a practiced rhythm, expression taut and hungry, eyes fixed to your face like he’s waiting for permission.
Your needful cunt’s soaked and leaks through the scrap of lace barely passing for panties.
Toji hums deep in his chest behind you, so close you feel it pass through you. “Why don’t you let him get a closer look, angel?”
You start to protest, or maybe ask what he means, but he’s already slid one hand down and tugged your panties aside. The air kisses your bare, slick folds and you gasp, thighs twitching. Your clit throbs at the sudden exposure. You don't know what’s more overwhelming – the cold air, or the heat of their eyes, both locked right there between your legs. Toji’s fingers rub slow little circles on your clit now, the pressure makes you shake and whimper like a goddamn mess. Then—just as you’re about to beg for more—he brings those wet fingers up and taps them at your lips.
"Open," he says. Just one word. Quiet. Expectant.
And you do.
You wrap your lips round his fingers and taste yourself on him, moaning softly as he pushes them past your tongue. You’re flushed, dizzy, and slack jawed as you look up through your lashes – right at Shiu. His breath stutters. His hand doesn’t slow. He’s looking at you like he’s committing the image to memory, and you—helpless and wide-eyed, propped up against Toji like a doll—can’t look away. You moan around Toji’s fingers in your mouth, coated with your own slick and need. His eyes are slitted, sharp with that glint he gets when he’s letting himself enjoy something too much; when the leash on his temper, his pride, his possessiveness slips just a little, just enough to show the fang underneath the smirk.
“The man’s starvin’,” he growls, voice hot against your ear. The words cut through the fog like a knife through butter. “You gonna give him a taste?”
You nod. Dumb, needy. You don’t even try to speak, just whine, eyes fluttering shut.
Toji chuckles deep in his chest. It rumbles through you. “You heard her,” he says, looking past your shoulder at Shiu. “She’s begging for it.”
Shiu’s already moving – no hesitation, no false modesty. He shifts forward like he’s been waiting his turn all night, and settles between your open thighs. His palms are big and hot as he grabs at the meat of your thighs. His fingers dig into the plush softness to spread you wider. He leans in close, the tips of his hair brushing your inner thighs, and the first kiss he lays is maddeningly chaste. Just a soft press of his lips, followed by another, and another—he traces the trembling skin, inching closer to your slick centre where you need him. You cant your hips toward him. Instinctive. Helpless. A wordless please. He nips you. A sharp little bite just above where you’re aching. You cry out, back arched and thighs twitching in his purposeful grip that says he’s taking his time and you’ll wait for it.
Toji’s grip on you tightens. “Watch yourself,” he warns, voice darker now. “I’m letting you taste, but don’t think for a fuckin’ second I’m letting go.”
And that’s the edge of it – Toji doesn’t share, not really. Even now, with Shiu knelt between your legs like he’s praying at some twisted altar, Toji’s got an arm wrapped round your ribs and your hips. His thigh is still pressed up between yours, staking his claim.
Shiu just smirks, lips ghosting over your skin. “Relax, mate,” he says low. A natural negotiator, he is – that much is obvious. “I’m not trying to steal her. Just making her sing for us.”
Then—oh, fuck.
His tongue drags a slow, deliberate stripe up the centre of you. Broad and flat, he starts low and pushes your slick up along your core until he lands, soft and heavy, at your swollen clit. Your thighs threaten to clamp shut round his head but his hands are already there; keeping you spread. He holds you wide, holds you open.
Toji growls again behind you, but this time it’s a sound of satisfaction. Of possessive pride. “That's it,” he murmurs, voice thick. His fingers creep under your dress to squeeze your waist like he’s grounding you. “Let him see what I get every night.”
You’re gone – your body thrums like a live wire, flushed head to toe. When your eyes flicker open, you lock gazes with Shiu, who looks up at you from between your thighs. Toji’s fingers slide free from your swollen lips with a wet pop, and you gasp in air like you’ve surfaced from underwater. Your whole body is a string pulled tight and vibrates with nerves and need. Shiu’s mouth is on you now in full. No more teasing, featherlight kisses. It’s hot and messy – the kind of focused, filthy hunger that’s more worship than lust; tongue flat and firm, he drags slow through your slick folds then flicks rapid over that aching knot of nerves until your thighs tremble like kicked scaffolding. You pant, keen, writhe obscenely on Toji’s lap. With each exhale a whimper is wrung out of you by the obscene heat between your legs. Your fingers scramble for purchase at Toji’s forearms and grip at whatever you can; desperate for more and less all at once.
Toji watches your head tip back, the way your mouth parts in a soft gasp as Shiu continues to work you with his tongue – and it stokes something hot and primal in his gut. With darkened eyes his jaw tightens, and the muscles in his arms flex with that restless edge that only comes when he feels something slipping too far from his grip. He’s not having it. Toji’s hold at your waist tightens, he grounds you with that brutal kind of tenderness only he has. His other hand snakes down between your legs to slide slick fingers into the wet mess Shiu’s made of you. You gasp again, back arched as they fill you – slow at first, then pumping, deliberate and deep like he’s trying to reel your attention back. You cry out. Your hips jerk helplessly between the two of them, but it’s Toji’s name that slips your lips next; breathy and broken just the way he likes it.
“Fuuuck, listen to you,” he groans. Thick with possession, his voice is hot at your ear. His free hand grips your jaw, tilting your head so he can see the tears that bead over your lashes. “Sound like a little slut begging to break.”
Your hips stutter as his fingers curl just right inside you and press into that place that makes your vision go blank at the edges.
“You feel that?” he growls, pumping faster. “Right there. That’s mine. Say it.”
You can’t say it. You’re too far gone. All you can do is nod and cry out with every stroke, your helpless sobs caught between moans.
His voice cracks into a rasp. “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he mutters. “Taking me like you were made for it.”
Shiu doesn’t stop. Not once. His tongue is a weapon, licking and sucking that swollen clit, moaning low like he’s drunk on you.
You shatter.
You break with a cry. Your hips jerk forward then lock still; thighs clenched, body rigid. Then—wetness. A rush you can’t stop, splashing against Shiu’s face. Your cheeks burn as hot tears slip down from the sheer overload of it. It’s ugly and real and fucking raw. Your voice is caught in your throat, choking out sounds that don’t have names. Toji holds you through it. He keeps his fingers inside, keeps whispering filth and praise and mine over and over at your ear. Shiu wipes his chin with the back of his hand, smirking.
Toji laughs, voice low and smug. “You see that?” he says, eyes locked with Shiu’s over your shoulder, his arm tight round your shuddering body. “That’s what it looks like when she breaks.”
###
Toji pulls his fingers out from you, wet with your spit and spend. Your legs tremble like you’ve weathered an earthquake and haven’t quite settled yet. The reek of wine and sex hangs like smoke in the air.
“Feeling good?” Shiu asks, voice slick with amusement. One brow is cocked as he slowly strokes the edge of your jaw with a knuckle. “You fucked out already?”
You try to speak, but your tongue’s heavy, lips parted around a gasp. All you can manage is a quiet, dazed noise; half-laugh, half-broken whine.
They both chuckle. Not cruelly, just knowing. A pair of wolves that know a rabbit’s still got one last sprint in it, barely.
“Not done just yet,” Toji mutters, voice right behind your ear, “it’s our turn now.”
Before you can react, he shifts. His powerful hands grip your waist and lift you as if you weigh nothing at all. You’re hoisted off his lap in one motion, world tilting. The next thing you know your stomach’s pressed over the broad armrest of the couch, dress bunched and riding up. Your back arches naturally under his grip, like your body remembers the posture even if your brain’s gone all haze and static. You feel his palm settle hard on your hip; grounding, commanding. His other hand lowers to wrap around his length and pump it languidly. You feel the slow, deliberate drag of his cock against your folds as he grinds the length along you but doesn’t push in. Yet. In front of you, Shiu kneels. Calm. Collected. The coiled contrast to Toji’s bristling tension. He cups your chin with one hand, thumb rough against your bottom lip.
“C’mon,” he says, pupils blown wide and glimmering. “Show me.”
You open instinctively, eager and obedient before you even know what you're doing. His thumb presses in and you lap at it, tongue slow and wet. You suck it soft and deep, meeting his hungry gaze. He watches you as if he's recording the moment with his eyes.
“Christ…” he mutters, shifting his weight. He runs his free hand through your hair, mussing it like you’re something soft and pretty; a mess he wants to touch more than tidy. “Toji’s got you well trained.”
You melt under his touch and lean into his hand like it anchors you. Heat blooms in your chest, buzzing guiltless and sweet.
Shiu grins, not at you now but over you. “Maybe next time, he’ll let me have a turn with that pussy, hm?” He’s looking past you, the real question not yours to answer. “What do you think?” he coos, teasing – as if he’s testing the waters of the room with a bare foot.
The words slice sharp. You can’t help it – you suck harder on his thumb, your lashes flutter, a moan catching in your throat.
Toji freezes behind you – a low, loaded tension bleeding into his grip. The fingers at your hip flex and dig in. The pressure between your thighs shifts with intention. There’s a heartbeat of silence, thick with power and bloodlust.
“Not fuckin’ likely,” Toji grits out.
Without another word, he thrusts forward. One sudden, brutal snap of his hips. Possessive. Final. A full-body claim. Your breath is punched out of you. Shiu’s thumb slips from between your lips. Your hands claw at the couch edge as your mouth opens in a silent scream.
Shiu just laughs low and slow and pulls back, watching from his knees with something like respect in his smirk. “Didn’t think so,” he muses.
Toji slides a hand up your spine, anchoring you in place. Without a word, his grip says it all:
Mine.
Toji’s hips grind into you with that slow, devastating rhythm that’s worse—far worse—than fast because it drags the pleasure out into something unbearable. Every stroke rolls deep, every inch of him presses into the sore, raw places inside you. It’s enough to make your whole body shake. He’s not just fucking you; he’s owning you, with every deliberate thrust. Your hips jerk forward with each motion, hands clambering for stability against the couch, knees barely holding out under the rhythm and his weight. Your mind’s gone soft around the edges, full of nothing but white noise and the skin-on-skin sound of your body being used, worshipped, and claimed. You can feel every ragged breath, every squeeze of Toji’s fingers on your hips from behind you. And then Shiu moves.
He slides his thumb from your lips, slow, dragging a glistening thread of spit that snaps mid-air like a whip crack.
“I’ve got something better for you,” he murmurs, tone low, like he’s letting you in on a secret.
He’s still knelt in front of you, one hand steady on your chin. His other trails down slowly across the front of his slacks to free his length. His eyes are half-lidded, watching you with a lazy intensity that makes your stomach flutter. Your lips part, already aching to be filled, but the position’s a mess – Toji's rolling deep behind you, and you’re braced awkwardly on the couch arm with your back arched into a crescent of want. You're trying to shift forward, to lean enough to take Shiu in, but every drag of Toji’s hips rocks you forward, then pulls you back.
It's obscene – the friction between one man's rhythm and the other's invitation. Shiu doesn’t seem bothered. No, he likes it. You can see it in the way he licks his teeth, slow and deliberate. His cock brushes your lips as you try to steady yourself enough to take him.He leans in, guiding himself with one hand. He rubs the flushed head slow over your mouth, watching the way you chase the contact with your tongue, with your eyes, desperation carved into every little motion. You try to take him, shifting your weight, mouth stretched open – but Toji’s thrust rocks you and you lose it again, lips only grazing instead of swallowing. A whimper escapes you.
“Patience, sweetheart,” Shiu says with a smirk. He runs his fingers through your hair again, gently now. “You look fucking divine like this.”
And then—finally—you sink your mouth onto him. Lips wide, your tongue drags under the weight of him as your breath stalls. The groan Shiu lets out is ragged, visceral. You feel it ripple down his spine through his fingertips in your hair.
“Fucking hell,” he moans. “Expected nothing less from Toji’s girl.”
Toji grunts behind you in response, a sharp thrust punctuating the sound. Your whole body jolts, every nerve frayed as you’re pinned between them. You don’t know where one of them ends and the other begins; just the overwhelming, beautiful ache of giving in. That feeling crescendos again. Like an ocean roiling up within you – it’s swelling, arching you in a breathless curve of overstimulation. Your whole body is feverish, caught in a rhythm dictated by the two men wrapped around you, in you, over you.
Toji’s thrusts have lost their earlier control. He's not gentle now, not even pretending to be. Each snap of his hips lands heavy, demanding, brutal in its precision. You clench around him involuntarily, every stroke sending shockwaves through you. Your tits sway helplessly beneath you, nipples raw and tingling from the caress of cool air on lingering sweat. Shiu meets Toji’s rhythm – his hand tight in your hair, holding. His expression is raw, wild; something feral simmers behind his blown pupils. His hips roll forward, smooth and relentless, his breath getting shorter by the second. You're stuffed, full. Stretched open and quivering, you’re unable to decide where the pressure’s worst—Toji’s length driving deep behind you or the hot, weighty throb of Shiu against your tongue. You moan, deep and guttural, and it shudders through both of them.
Toji’s hand sneaks round your hip again, quick and sure. He’s heard that sound before, he knows what it means. His thumb rolls circles against your clit, fast and tight, the perfect contrast to the wide, slamming thrusts that rock your whole frame. “That’s it,” he pants, voice all grit and need now. “That’s my girl. Squeeze me like that. You’re close, I fucking know it.”
And you are.
You are.
You nod, jerky and helpless. Tears threaten your vision. The heat is unbearable. White noise roars in your skull.
Like a band pulled taut too long, you snap.
Your body bucks forward, mouth wide in a silent cry. Your cunt pulses hard and rhythmic around Toji’s cock as he moans behind you, lost to the feeling. He thrusts deep once more, staying there. You feel him throb inside you, his jaw clenched as he groans through his finish. Shiu doesn’t miss a beat. His hand tightens in your hair, tilting your face up just enough, just so, that you meet his eyes as your vision swims. He breathes your name like it’s a secret, something private, and his body tenses. His face twists in a soundless snarl of pleasure as he lets go, and you feel it—feel him; the weight, the heat, the act of it. But it’s the look in his eyes that brands you, his gaze dark and reverent.You collapse between them in a shaking heap with parted lips, hair mussed, heart pounding. Like you’ve just been dragged out of a thunderstorm. The silence settles heavy, like smoke after fire.
###
The air is thick with the heat of bodies and the scent of sweat and satisfaction. The couch sags beneath the weight of three spent creatures, wrecked and sweat-slicked under the amber light. You’re in the middle, crushed soft between them. Your skin is flushed and your head still swimming in the infinity of after. Toji’s to your left. His breath has slowed now, though his chest still heaves once in a while like he can’t let the moment go just yet. His jeans are undone, halfway down his thighs; his hair a wild mess you can’t stop staring at. A man-shaped wrecking ball, stewing in the aftermath.
Shiu’s draped to your right, body all slack muscle and smugness. He’s got one leg hooked over the couch arm like he’s lounging in some high-rise penthouse and not in the middle of your crumpled living room with your wetness still drying on his chin. Then—finally—he reaches behind his ear. That damn cigarette. The same one he’s had stowed like a casual afterthought the entire night—he frees it triumphantly it now that the storm has passed. He plucks it out with slow precision, still smirking as he flips open a battered lighter. His thumb flicks with that cocky street magician flair of his. Click. Flame. He takes a drag, cheeks hollowing, and puffs out a little curl of smoke that ghosts above your heads like incense.
“You gonna make good on that promise to share?” you rasp, voice raw and husky, still breathless. You smile when you say it; that crooked, fucked-out grin you’ve never seen in the mirror but can feel when it blooms on your face.
Shiu chuckles, smoke curling from his lips. “Of course,” he says, taking another drag. Then he turns to you, fingers at your chin. His touch is surprisingly soft. “Open up, sweetheart.”
You part your lips and he leans in, hand cupped as he exhales slow into your mouth. The smoke rolls in, heavy and warm, menthol tingling on your tongue like burnt sugar. You hold it, then let it slip past your teeth in an exhale, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.
Ahem.
Toji’s cough, exaggerated as fuck, slices through the air. You jolt just a little, turning your head. Shiu’s already looking Toji’s way, that shit-eating smirk painted across his face.
“Don’t be mad, big fella,” Shiu drawls, tapping ash into a half-empty wine glass like it’s an ashtray. “It’s ladies first. I’ll shotgun it to you next, yeah?”
Toji gives Shiu a look like he’s two seconds from smashing the wine glass over his head. “Gimme that, smarmy bastard,” he mutters, lunging half-heartedly to snatch the cigarette from Shiu’s grip.
Shiu doesn’t resist. Just grins wider, hands up like he’s surrendering to the fuzz. Toji settles, cigarette now clamped between his fingers, his other arm slung behind your shoulders. His hand ruffles gently at your upper arm. It’s affectionate, idle, like he’s petting something precious but still half-feral. You feel it in your bones, that simple little motion. The way it tethers you right there. He leans his head sideways, nestling the crown of it into your temple, resting there like it’s his favourite spot in the whole damn world. Then he lifts the cigarette to his mouth, takes a long drag.
Silence. The faint scrape of breath through lungs. The way your heart's slowed into something steady but awake, like it’s still listening for the next move. You sit there, tangled in sweat and smoke and pressed between two men who couldn’t be more different – but right now, they feel like matching pieces in the same clandestine puzzle. Your lips still taste like sin, your body still aches with the ghost of their touch, and none of you speak.
And you’ve still got no fucking idea what the pair do for work.