Work Text:
Though Yeosang isn't quite used to it yet, he thinks he likes being an early riser. The world is quieter now. Not in the way of the melancholy that permeates the hours past midnight, but in the hopeful blooming of a new day. The air is fresher too, he thinks as he stretches his arms above his head to work the sleep from his spine. There are less people around to breathe it into his space, and he appreciates that.
After taking advantage of the empty streets to jog to the park and back home again, he spends some time in their makeshift home gym, working his hard-earned muscles till they ache pleasantly and shine with a healthy sweat. He pants from the exertion, feeling satisfied with himself. His breath sounds deafening, jarring him a bit in the eerie still of morning. Yeosang has to admit he's glad the quiet will be over soon. Rising early is nice and all, but he misses the warmth of another person hanging off his shoulders or wrapped around his waist.
He traipses to the kitchen and rifles through the fridge, searching for something to satisfy his early morning hunger. There's a basket of strawberries hidden in a drawer, and they're ripe and red with flavor when he bites into one. He licks a stray trail of sugary sweetness from the corner of his mouth and decides on a strawberry smoothie, fortifying it with two scoops of his favorite protein powder for a little extra nutrition. It's vanilla flavored, and the unpleasant graininess usually presented by protein powder is blissfully absent when blended into a sweet, cold treat. He makes a bit of a mess when he forgets to affix the blender's lid properly, but it's an easy cleanup. Smoothies have always been easy. Cooking not so much, but all men have their weaknesses he supposes cheerfully. He pours his concoction of fruit, ice, and protein into a large cup and admires his handiwork. Wooyoung would be proud.
The smoothie has been reduced to pink dregs when Yeosang hears that someone is awake. He looks up to see a very smiley Yunho stumble into the living room, red-cheeked and ruffled. His face lights up when he sees Yeosang leaned against the counter. He makes his way over to the kitchen, nearly tripping a few times, and when he reaches Yeosang he practically falls on top of him, draping over his shoulders, nuzzling into his neck.
"Good morning," Yeosang murmurs. He sets his empty cup aside and lightly ruffles Yunho's soft hair. Yunho leans into it and giggles low in his throat. His breath sends the smell of alcohol into the air. "Yunho-yah, are you drunk?"
"J's a l'ttle bit," Yunho slurs. "Was up drinking with Jjongie. Kissed him a little. Took a nap. I feel good. You smell nice." He noses further into Yeosang's neck and nips at the bare skin. "Sweaty. You worked out?"
"I always do," Yeosang says, tilting his head back to give Yunho more room to work, but it seems Yunho has other ideas.
He drops to his knees and lets out a grunt. "Smell so good," he rumbles, but the words are muffled against the loose fabric of Yeosang's workout shorts. "Could just…" Yunho leans back and blinks, eyes wide and adoring, "eat you."
Yeosang opens his mouth to say something, but the words are lost to the morning air as Yunho presses his mouth, open and eager, to the shape of his covered pussy. It's not quite unexpected, Yunho has always been a clingy and affectionate drunk, even more so with the people he loves, but it's just enough on the right side of shocking that Yeosang can only gasp in surprise and clap a hand over his own mouth to muffle the noise.
A warm breath, a brave tongue, and the tease of teeth push into him. He's not had a shower since the previous morning, and by now is roughed up enough by time to be decently grimy. As Yunho wets the fabric of his shorts with the relish one saves for a particularly sweet bit of ice cream, Yeosang finds that he adores him all the more for being so enthusiastic about getting his tongue on the muck and grime. He can feel himself getting wet from the pressure on his clit, can feel his cheeks burning from the shame of enjoying it so much, but then Yunho muffles out a, "Fucking delicious," into the growing wet patch around his mouth, so he moves past caring about the sweat drying in the cracks and crevices of his skin and into simply enjoying it.
It's too early for words, so Yeosang doesn't bother with them. Instead, he braces himself against the counter and rests his head on the cabinets behind him, letting Yunho do as he pleases. It's soft and clumsy, addled by alcohol, but he wouldn't have it any other way.
One of Yunho's hands creeps over his leg, up beneath the hem of his shorts, looking for trouble.
"You didn't wear anything under these," Yunho mumbles absentmindedly, speaking into the warmth of Yeosang's pussy. "Good. Easier." He hooks his finger's on the waistband from the inside and yanks them down with no preamble, immediately sealing his mouth over the glistening wetness of Yeosang's hole. At the same time, he very awkwardly tries to toss the shorts off to the side. Yeosang assists him by quickly stepping out of them and kicking them off somewhere, impatient for Yunho to continue.
The counter isn't as comfortable to lean on now, but the sweet sensations of slick tongue on salted skin more than make up for it. There's no rhythm to it, no consistency, just a hungry mouth drinking him down, and the occasional brush of a nose over his clit that steals the shuddering breath from his lungs.
Yunho gets hungrier as time goes on. Still sloppy, still clumsy, but ravenous. Teeth bare into Yeosang's cunt, scraping over nerve endings, fraying them to breaking point. A finger, too, makes its way to join Yunho's mouth. His thumb dips into the tight, sopping heat from behind, thick and solid. Yeosang clenches around it with a quiet whimper and balls his hands into fists on the counter-top.
There's movement in a distant hallway. Yeosang's eyes snap upward to locate the source of it. Yunho stays buried inside him, paying it no mind. The movement is Jongho, who ambles in looking red in the ears and eyes, clearly having been drinking as well. Like Yunho, he doesn't waste any time. He carefully picks his way to the kitchen, mumbling a distracted good morning as he goes. Yeosang barely gets to choke out a greeting in return before Jongho's mouth is on his, smooth as butter, deep as the ocean, tasting of leftover spirits.
"My favorite breakfast," Jongho mumbles, almost absentmindedly, into Yeosang's mouth. He wraps one arm around his waist and squeezes. The position is slightly awkward, as Jongho has to keep himself situated to one side because Yunho is occupying quite a bit of space on the floor. By the way he groans into Yeosang's skin, he very obviously isn't wanting to move any time soon.
Jongho doesn't seem to mind this very much. In fact, he threads his free hand through Yunho's hair and pushes him in deeper, swallowing Yeosang's shocked whimper with another languid kiss.
"Shh, don't say anything," he mumbles. "Just relax."
Yeosang practically melts into Jongho's hold, no longer quite able to hold himself up. His thighs, once tense, go lax and limp, occasionally twitching when Yunho hits a particularly sensitive nerve. It's an easy thing to get lost in them, to lay back and take what they're giving him, no matter how much or how little. Jongho hums into his mouth, content as anything to just stand there and goad Yunho forward, and Yunho clumsily rearranges his hand so he can ease two fingers inside. He's both wet and loose enough at that point that the intrusion doesn't hurt at all. In fact, it barely feels like anything at first, that is until the fingers curl and he's made aware just how deep they've gotten.
Yeosang grinds downward, chasing more friction, more movement, more Yunho, but a tight hand grips his chin, and Jongho's voice, sounding like frayed silk in the early hour, breathes out a quiet, "Stay still. Take what you're given."
"B-but I want to come," Yeosang sniffles. An actual tear rolls down his cheek. Jongho noses it away and goes back to kissing him without a care in the world. Yunho, oblivious, crooks his fingers right over Yeosang's sweet spot and flicks his tongue lightly over his clit. Too lightly. Yeosang keens and bucks his hips again, growing ever more desperate.
"Oh hello," says a low voice from the living room. "What's happening here?"
Yeosang wrenches his face away from Jongho to pout at the newcomer. "Sannie," he warbles helplessly, putting all of his desperation into his voice, knowing how weak San is for him. "Sannie, they're being mean. Won't let me come."
"Oh, baby, that's not very nice of them, is it?" San coos. The sympathetic effect of it is a bit lost through his sleep-puffed face and tired voice, but Yeosang whines in agreement anyway.
"I'll make you come," says a voice from behind San. Yeosang blinks and tries to focus on who might be using it, but then Yunho's tongue laves fully over his clit, moving fast, and he's rendered dumb, mute, and blind to anything other than the feeling of it. He faintly hears San and the other person enter the kitchen. There's a quiet exchanging of kisses and snatches of whispered conversation.
"Go- couch- make him- 'll take care of-" And suddenly, horrifyingly, Yunho is gone.
"Whu-" Yeosang opens his eyes blearily to see Jongho taking Yunho's arm and hauling him off to the nearby couch. He watches as Yunho is pinned down by his hips, hears him groan aloud as Jongho buries himself between his legs, giving him the same treatment Yeosang was getting not two minutes earlier. Yeosang holds in a whine for them to come back and finish him. San gets to his knees without delay, cooing reassurances between soft, trailing kisses that he and Wooyoung will make him feel so good.
At the mention of Wooyoung's name, Yeosang glances around to find him already plastered to his side, mouthing at his neck. "Young-ah," he sighs happily, filtering off into a moan as San's tongue breaches his hole.
"Hi, Sang-ah," Wooyoung grins and nips at his hickey-riddled skin before slotting their mouths together in a warm kiss. "You smell nice," he grins into Yeosang's mouth. "Did you work out?"
"Young-ah, you said-" the words catch in Yeosang's throat at a flick of San's tongue, but he keeps going. "You said you'd make me come."
"I did say that," Wooyoung acknowledges. He hooks a hand beneath one of Yeosang's knees from behind, lifting his leg up and open to give San better access, nuzzling into the pit of Yeosang's arm as he does this. "You taste salty here," he mumbles. "You did work out."
"Young-ah, come on," Yeosang practically sobs. "You said you'd make me come, so make me come!"
"So whiny," Wooyoung mutters fondly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Here you go."
Yeosang tenses up with a cry as Wooyoung reaches down with his free hand and presses into his clit. The pads of his fingers are rough and calloused, unforgiving when they fall into a steady pace over him. His hips jerk forward, or is it away? He can't tell if he needs more or needs it all to stop, but he isn't about to make the choice himself.
Wooyoung hikes Yeosang's knee higher and presses it against the counter with his hip as an anchor. He uses his now unoccupied hand to grab at a fistful of Yeosang's hair and tilt his head backward. "This is the best breakfast," he purrs into his neck.
On the couch, Jongho sits up, chin drenched with Yunho, and says, grinning excitedly, "Hey, I said the same thing!" He isn't up for long however, because Yunho reaches out and shoves him back down with a desperate grunt.
Wooyoung laughs quietly into Yeosang's neck, unconsciously dropping his hand as he gazes distractedly at the way Yunho arches into Jongho's mouth with a cry. "They're drunk, huh," he snorts fondly.
Yeosang lets out a plaintive whine. "Drunk and mean," he huffs. "Now would you please-"
"Yeah, yeah," Wooyoung cuts him off with a kiss and a fond rolling of eyes, then reaches back down with the fingers not pulling at his hair, dragging them in firm, swift circles. Yeosang moans happily, breaking into a fucked-out smile as he grinds into them.
It's short work after that. Wooyoung's hand is deliciously calloused, his pace perfectly bruising, and Yeosang is so worked up already that it takes about ten seconds to tip him over the edge and into heaven. Wooyoung keeps moving non-stop as Yeosang tenses up and comes into San's mouth, drawing the air from his throat in high, thin, whining bursts.
Once again, there's movement in the living room. Yeosang tries to offer a good morning to the blurred shapes of Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and Mingi, but when it melts from between his teeth as a broken whimper, he doesn't try to save it. Words are so far off they may as well be on another planet, and Yeosang doesn't care enough to chase them into coherence right now. San is still leaned into his hole, tongue and all, while Wooyoung is hissing sweetness into his ear about how they're far from through with him.
A disembodied hand grips Yeosang's chin and tilts it into a pair of plush lips. They taste of leftover sleep and a rumbled hello. Mingi. Yeosang blinks several times until the freckled skin of Mingi's cheek and jaw come into focus, mumbling what he thinks is a proper acknowledgment,
"H' M'gi."
"Hi," Mingi says, sounding drowsy. "I'll be back for you later. Don't wear him out too much." He directs this at Wooyoung and San amiably before trooping off to the couch and settling himself comfortably on Yunho's face, rocking his hips into his willing mouth with a pleased grunt.
Yeosang jolts in shock as someone slaps him smartly on the chest, directly over a nipple. His senses are invaded with the softness of Seonghwa's scent and the softer feel of his kiss.
"You clean up my kitchen or I kill you, hm?" Seonghwa murmurs sweetly before pulling away, and Yeosang has to laugh through his fear because even the threat is said softly.
Somewhere in the background, the fridge slams shut, and Hongjoong bounces into Yeosang's line of sight, looking freshly risen and vibrant with color. His arms are full of various snacks and his eyes are slow-blinking and tired, but he looks happier than anything to be awake. Yeosang's heart blooms with love.
"Hyungie," he hums happily, leaning against Wooyoung's hold, toward the mass of warm light that is Hongjoong.
"Hi, baby," Hongjoong croons with a wide grin. He tiptoes around San and sinks his teeth into Yeosang's arm, giggling at the startle yelp it brings out of him. "Cutie." Hongjoong props himself up on his toes and catches Yeosang's lips in a long, languid kiss, dripping of filth and hunger. When he pulls back, they're both panting. Yeosang from all the fingers and tongues working their way through his nervous system, Hongjoong from pure, red-blooded desire.
"Seonghwa-yah, come on," Hongjoong says briskly, rearranging his snacks so he can take Seonghwa's sleeve and pull him toward an empty part of the couch. "You can worry about the kitchen later. If I don't get someone's fingers inside me in two seconds I am going to scream."
"Preach," says Mingi, grinning lazily from atop Yunho's face.
Yeosang laughs helplessly at his boyfriends' antics from where he's caged against the counter, feeling himself seize up as San's tongue flicks inside him, which sends him further into the pads of Wooyoung's fingers. Yeah, he thinks hazily as he shudders through the warmth of another orgasm, I'm definitely a morning person.