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Yuma trails behind Euijoo down the hallway of yet another hotel on their current tour circuit. He’s following so close that he bumps into Euijoo when Euijoo slows down to pull out his key card. Euijoo shoots him a look, but Yuma doesn’t apologize. He breathes down Euijoo’s neck as he opens his door, too close for Euijoo to stop him from slipping into the room behind him even if he wanted to. Yuma doesn’t know if he does or not, but he’s not chancing it.
They had the second half of the day off to settle in after one of their longer flights, and some of the guys went out shopping. Euijoo went. Fuma didn’t. Yuma thought that was interesting.
Yuma flops down on Euijoo’s bed and watches him change from the jeans and sweater he wore shopping into the worn sweats and t-shirt he often sleeps in. Euijoo pauses in the middle of the room, looking at Yuma, and for one heartstopping moment Yuma thinks that Euijoo is going to say something. Ask what Yuma is doing, demand to know why he’s in Euijoo’s room, getting up in his space, staring at him. He holds his breath, the delicious anticipation of getting the attention he’s been craving thrumming through him. But in the end Euijoo just circles the bed to lie down on the opposite side. He settles against the pillows, eyes fixed on his phone.
That won’t do. Yuma is sick of being ignored by Euijoo. It’s been over a week since Euijoo walked in on Yuma fucking Fuma. Over a week since Yuma watched Euijoo and Fuma stare into each other’s eyes and whisper sweet nothings. Over a week since the truth Yuma ignored for five months fucked him, quite literally, in the ass.
Over a week, and neither Fuma nor Euijoo has even had the decency to let Yuma down easy. He thought he might at least get a thank you.
Yuma rolls across the bed until he bumps into Euijoo with his back. He leans his weight onto Euijoo, craning his head backward to see if Euijoo is reacting, but he’s not. Yuma huffs and flips onto his other side, throwing a leg over Euijoo’s and digging his chin into Euijoo’s shoulder.
Euijoo’s eyes don’t move from his phone. His thumbs tap incessantly on the screen.
Yuma huffs again. He contemplates Euijoo for a moment before throwing caution to the wind and crawling through his arms, shoving himself between Euijoo and his phone.
Somehow it still takes a second for Euijoo’s eyes to actually focus on Yuma. His eyebrows climb up his face until they’re practically in his hairline. “Yes? Is there something you want?”
“Noooo,” Yuma says sweetly, even as indignation surges in his chest and clogs up his throat. As if Euijoo doesn’t know what Yuma wants.
There’s a long pause, both of them staring at each other without moving, before Yuma relents. “I’m surprised you aren’t in Fuma’s room.”
Euijoo tilts his head slightly. “Why would I be?”
The answer is so obvious Yuma doesn’t even know how to put it into words. Fuma and Euijoo didn't kick him out afterward—the opposite, really, which turned out to be worse. Yuma had laid there next to them, Fuma’s words looping in his head: “Always. I always have been,” until there was no shadow of a doubt in his mind that they didn’t need him.
For a while, Yuma managed to convince himself he was glad he got that last hurrah. He was glad he saw Euijoo prove himself more than capable of fucking Fuma better than Yuma so that he couldn’t delude himself anymore. He was glad for that last exquisite torture of Fuma crying out Yuma’s name as he got fucked, just like Yuma always secretly wanted. He was glad he got Euijoo to fuck him instead of fighting over Fuma’s honour or some stupid stereotypical alpha shit. Given the situation, what more could Yuma have asked for?
He wanted Fuma to be happy. He wanted to leave them to it. He gave them space, avoided them so he wouldn’t get in their way. But they just… let him, and that got under Yuma's skin. He didn’t like it at all.
Really, Yuma has always been selfish. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that he wants their attention more than he wants to let them be happy without him.
Euijoo has given up on waiting for Yuma’s answer and is looking at his stupid phone again, this time over Yuma's shoulder. Yuma could easily put himself in the way again, but Euijoo already proved that doing that won't get Yuma what he wants.
Instead, Yuma ducks his head to rub his cheek against Euijoo's neck. Euijoo stiffens for a second, and Yuma's stomach swoops in anticipation of being shoved away. But then Euijoo relaxes and stays still, letting Yuma scent him like it's no big deal. If anything, he tilts his head to give Yuma more space.
What the fuck. Yuma switches sides just to be annoying, wedging his face between Euijoo's shoulder and neck, but that fails to get him a reaction, too. Euijoo stays there, his scent mingling with Yuma's, until Yuma is the one overwhelmed by frustration. Why won't Euijoo do something? Tell Yuma to back off, or pull Yuma’s body against his own with sure hands the way he did when he fucked him, or kick him out, or shove him down and put him in his place. Something. Anything.
Yuma doesn't decide to do it. He just bites Euijoo's shoulder, a sharp nip through the thin fabric of Euijoo's shirt. Euijoo gasps and fists his hand in the back of Yuma's hair, yanking him away. Triumph surges through Yuma even as he whimpers at the sting of it, his own hand flying up to cover Euijoo's. He stops himself short of trying to pull Euijoo's hand away.
“Okay, fine,” Euijoo says. He's finally looking at Yuma, really looking at him. Yuma’s heart lurches into overdrive. “If you're not going to use your words, we'll do this a different way.”
“Do what?” Yuma asks, breathless.
Euijoo doesn't answer. He directs Yuma up and off the bed, settling a firm hand on the back of Yuma's neck and guiding him toward the hotel room door. Yuma lets him, a riot of butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Euijoo scruffing him like this makes him feel like he's a pup being dragged home by his mom because he misbehaved at the playground, but not in a bad way. It feels like too much of a win to be bad.
Euijoo marches him down the hallway. It quickly becomes clear he's taking Yuma to Fuma's room, but the reality of that doesn't sink in until they're actually there. Fuma opens the door with wide eyes, flicking from Yuma to Euijoo and back again. He doesn't exactly look happy to see them.
Yuma tries to slip out of Euijoo's grip, to turn around and get out of here. There's a reason Euijoo was the one he decided to harass. He can't even look directly at Fuma, let alone poke and prod at him the way he did all those times when Fuma let him see him unravel. Any response from Euijoo would have been fine, but Fuma shutting him down might actually break him.
Euijoo's fingernails dig into Yuma's neck, and he pushes Yuma into the room. Fuma backs up to give them space, still eyeing them warily. The door clicks shut behind them with finality.
“We have to work this out,” Euijoo says.
Neither Fuma nor Yuma respond. The fan in the room shuts off, leaving them in deafening silence. Fuma is looking at the floor now. Yuma wants to know what he's thinking so badly it hurts.
Euijoo sighs. “Fuma,” he says, “Yuma is being a needy little menace and refuses to use his words. Yuma, Fuma thinks you don't want to fuck him anymore. And I think that, if anything, you’re acting like this because you want him to fuck you. Am I right?”
Euijoo pushes Yuma to his knees at Fuma's feet before Yuma can answer, and then Yuma can't possibly say anything at all, because he's looking up and meeting Fuma's gaze and thinking of all the times he's imagined Fuma fucking him.
A rush of heat floods his body. Getting fucked isn’t what he was angling for right now. He doesn't even know what he wanted, other than maybe exactly this? Both of them looking at him?
“Euijoo, you didn't have to—” Fuma starts, but he's looking away from Yuma again, and Yuma doesn't like that.
“Euijoo’s right,” he blurts out. Fuma's eyes snap back to his face. “I want that.”
Euijoo is giving Fuma a look. “See? Why don't you give him what he wants?”
Fuma glances at Euijoo. “Now?”
Euijoo nods. “Yeah. Now.”
Euijoo’s hand falls away from Yuma's shoulder as he steps out of Yuma's field of vision. Yuma looks around, frowning. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere,” Euijoo says. He settles himself onto Fuma's bed in the spot Fuma clearly just abandoned, where the blankets are rumpled and Fuma's Switch lies next to the pillow. “I'm gonna sit right here and watch.”
Satisfaction settles in Yuma's chest at that, the thrill of it going straight to his already half-hard dick. When he focuses on Fuma again, he realizes Fuma has moved to close the distance left between them. He tucks two fingers under Yuma's chin, tilting his face up, and then lingers there, looking at Yuma with an expression so naked with desire that Yuma feels as though Fuma has already stripped him bare, too.
“Fuma-san,” he says, the word coming out airy.
“You really want me to fuck you?” Fuma asks.
“Yeah,” Yuma says, still breathless. He lets himself tip forward, nuzzling his face into the warmth of Fuma's crotch. He inhales deeply, head spinning with Fuma's scent. It's so good, Yuma never gets tired of it.
Fuma spreads his legs slightly, and Yuma takes the invitation, burrowing in further and licking at the soft fabric of Fuma's pants over the slight bulge of his cock. Fuma cradles the back of Yuma's head with both hands, holding him close. Yuma wonders if he could get Fuma to soak through his pants.
Yuma puts his hands on Fuma’s hips and walks him backward until he hits the bed and sits. It gives Yuma the leverage to press his face in harder, and Fuma's hands curl in Yuma's hair as he cants his hips up, rubbing himself against Yuma's face. Yuma groans in approval.
“Don't get distracted, Fuma hyung,” Euijoo says. “I really think you should fuck him.”
“Right,” Fuma says, but his voice is distant. His grip doesn't loosen and his hips don't still. Yuma doesn't care if he never stops doing exactly this. It's barely anything at all, but the knowledge that he can still make Fuma sound and act needy is such a welcome relief, a heady balm to the hurt Yuma's been nursing.
But it only takes another moment for Fuma to collect himself. “Right,” he says again, firmer this time. He pulls Yuma away, and Yuma makes a noise of protest. Fuma puts a comforting hand on Yuma's cheek, thumbing at Yuma's lower lip, and Yuma’s eyes slip closed. “I should.”
Fuma drags Yuma up to stand and then bends him over the side of the bed before Yuma can even process the change in position. He shoves Yuma down with a firm hand between his shoulder blades, his other hand trailing down Yuma's back and over his hips, teasing at his waistband for a moment before he yanks down his pants and underwear, exposing his skin to the cool air. Yuma shivers, his mouth hanging open as he pants his anticipation into the blankets.
Fuma's fingers slip into the crease of Yuma's ass, brushing over the sensitive skin there. Yuma burns with the need to have Fuma inside of him, his hands gripping the blankets as he tries to push himself into Fuma's touch. Fuma rewards him with the just tip of his finger dipping inside, and Yuma gasps.
Then Fuma's hand is gone. Yuma whimpers and squirms, craning his neck to look over his shoulder only to realize that Fuma is accepting a bottle of lube from Euijoo and slicking up his fingers.
“I've got you,” Fuma says, noticing Yuma looking. He circles wet fingers around Yuma's rim, and Yuma bites his lip. It's not quite the same as Fuma using his own slick, but Yuma can't bring himself to mind. “I'm gonna open you up so I can give you what you want, yeah?”
“Y-yeah,” Yuma says, head dropping down and voice stuttering when Fuma slides a finger inside of him.
“I'll make it feel so good for you,” Fuma says as he works his finger inside of Yuma. “Gonna take care of you, baby.”
“Please,” Yuma breathes, just as affected by Fuma's words as he is by his touch. “Please, yes, keep talking to me.”
“You’re so good, opening up so easy for me,” Fuma says immediately. “It feels good, doesn't it. You could take more already, you're such a good boy.”
Yuma groans his agreement, trying to shove himself back on Fuma's fingers, to get him to finger him harder. It feels just as good as the last time Fuma fingered him, thorough and relentless and gentle.
Except this time Fuma is going to be the one fucking him. Holy fuck. Fuma slides another finger inside Yuma, still murmuring praise as he does so, but it feels so good, the stretch burning just right, and Yuma doesn't want to wait. He wants Fuma's cock inside of him now.
“Fuck me, come on, Fuma-san,” Yuma begs. “That's good, feels so good, I can take it, I promise.”
“You're such a greedy little alpha,” Fuma says. He doesn't sound surprised, only approving. “I’ve barely touched you.”
“I need it,” Yuma whines. “Need you. Please. I'm good, right? I'll be good for you.”
Yuma is expecting Fuma to hold out, to make Yuma keep waiting until whenever Fuma decides he's ready, so it doesn't surprise him when Fuma pulls his fingers away. He whines again, another string of incoherent begging falling from his lips, only for it to be cut off by the realization that Fuma is, in fact, giving Yuma exactly what he asked for.
It's Euijoo who stops him at the last second, when Yuma can feel Fuma's cock pressing against him, so close to slipping inside. “Wait, no,” he says, and Fuma stops, pulling away. Yuma makes a noise that even he can tell is pathetic. “Turn him over. Fuck him on his back.”
There's a brief pause as Fuma and Yuma both process that before they move at the same time. Fuma takes a step back to give Yuma space to stand and kick his pants the rest of the way off. Yuma lies down on his back, spreading his legs in invitation for Fuma to crawl on top of him. Fuma is still wearing his clothes, his shirt askew and pants pushed down far enough to get his cock out. Only being half naked gives this an air of desperation that reminds Yuma of their most intense heat fucks.
But Fuma isn't in heat, and Yuma's not in rut. Yuma shouldn't have turned over so easily, because now Fuma can see his face, and Yuma can't hide anything that might be on it behind the easy excuse of hormones and horniness.
Yuma turns his face to the side to hopefully disguise it at least a little, his cheek pressed to the blankets. “C’mon,” he says, reaching for Fuma’s hips and tugging him blindly closer. “Please.”
“Make him look at you,” Euijoo orders, dashing Yuma's best laid plans. Fuma obeys—of course he obeys. His fingers grip either side of Yuma's chin to turn his face to look at Fuma.
Yuma could resist. He could close his eyes. But he doesn't. He lets his gaze meet Fuma's, his awareness of how weak he is for Fuma acute in this position. He claimed to want to take care of Fuma all of those times, and he did, but deep down he's always been the kind of alpha that's content to have an omega on top of him, to let them do whatever they want to him. Fuma's always taken it as his due. He's never made Yuma feel judged for it. Yuma loves him so fucking much for that.
Distantly, he knows this must have been Euijoo's plan, to make them look at each other and face what it is they've been doing together. He wonders if it's still punishment, the way it was when he made Fuma thank Yuma by name and Yuma felt so guilty for how much he liked it. Or is it something else, something about the way Fuma is looking back at Yuma that Yuma is supposed to understand?
Yuma loses his grasp on that thought, because Fuma is pressing inside of him. He's nowhere near the size of Euijoo, but he feels huge anyway. “Fuck, you feel good,” Yuma breathes. His hands slide up Fuma's back as he wraps his legs around Fuma's waist, tilting his hips up to get Fuma that little bit deeper inside of him. Fuma’s eyes are fixed on Yuma’s face, filled with an emotion Yuma doesn’t dare name. “You can fuck me hard, don't hold back.”
“Don't,” Euijoo says. Yuma groans, unable to turn his head and glare at Euijoo the way he wants to because Fuma hasn't let go of his face. “Stay still.”
Fuma stays buried deep inside Yuma, head dropping down for a second before he lifts it back up. It's obviously taking him effort to hold back, sweat beading at his temples.
“No, no,” Yuma whines, squirming and clenching around Fuma's cock to try and get some friction for both of them. He can feel Fuma's slick dripping all over him, and it's driving him crazy. “Don't listen to him.”
“Hold him still,” Euijoo says, and Fuma lets his weight settle on top of Yuma, pressing him down into the bed. Yuma keeps shifting underneath him anyway, and Fuma makes a low noise of frustration as he lets go of Yuma's chin so he can get a firm grip on his hips instead.
“Is this what you call being good for me?” Fuma asks through gritted teeth.
“Yes, what the fuck,” Yuma complains.
“Brat,” Fuma says, the harshness of his tone tempered by the amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.
Yuma whines wordlessly, unable to look away from the plush curve of Fuma's lips. He's trembling with the need for Fuma to fuck him—or maybe that's Fuma trembling with the effort it takes to hold himself and Yuma back. Yuma can't tell. They feel like one body shaking together, desperation whiting out everything else.
“Please,” Yuma begs, emotion building up in his chest with every second that passes with Fuma filling him up and holding him and looking at him. “Please, Fuma-kun. Fuma-kun, please, I need you. Fuma-kun. At least kiss me if you can't fuck me. Please kiss me?”
Fuma's eyes go wide, and he glances in Euijoo's direction. Something sick and ugly twists in Yuma's chest, and he bites his lip to stop a sob from slipping out. If this is the only way he’ll ever get Fuma, if it’s only going to be because Euijoo said so, then fine. Yuma would take it a million times over.
Yuma follows Fuma's gaze to Euijoo. “Euijoo-kun, can he? Please?”
Yuma barely gets a glimpse of Euijoo's face before Fuma's fingers are pressed into Yuma's cheeks, forcing Yuma to look at him again. “You want that?” he demands.
Yuma blinks, dazed. Fuma's grip loosens, fingers sliding down to rest lightly on Yuma's jaw. “Yeah? Why wouldn't I?”
“You never have before,” Fuma says, expression uncertain.
A laugh slips out of Yuma. “Yes, I did.”
“Then why… You said no when I asked you. Last time.”
Yuma laughs again, feeling hysterical. How could he have said yes after watching Fuma and Euijoo kiss like they were starving for it? How could he ever consider himself in the same league? It was all he could do to peel himself away, to let Fuma have what he’d been craving without Yuma in the middle.
But it didn't stop Yuma from wanting, and his carefully-built barriers have crumbled into nothing. “I wanted it too much,” he admits, meeting Fuma's gaze. “I always did.”
The moment stays suspended between them, both of them still shaking in the seconds before Fuma leans down and crushes their lips together. Yuma immediately moans into Fuma's mouth, hands scrabbling on Fuma's back as he kisses him hard.
Fuma's eyes are wild when he pulls back. “I wanted it, too,” he says, gasping the words like he can't hold them back anymore, like they've been trapped for a long time. “I want you so much, Yuma.”
Yuma has to swallow his heart down to speak. “You do? Not just Euijoo?”
Fuma's lips press an urgent trail from Yuma's lips across his jaw and down his neck, so hard Yuma can feel a hint of teeth. “Not just Euijoo,” Fuma says, low and intense against Yuma's skin before he bites Yuma for real, at the crook of Yuma's neck just below his scent glands.
Yuma cries out, the sharp pleasure-pain reverberating so intensely through his body that for a second he thinks he's coming, his neglected dick leaking where it's trapped between them. He feels intensely claimed, Fuma's cock inside him and his teeth digging in.
“Fuck,” Yuma breathes. “Fuck me, please. Please.”
Fuma doesn't wait for Euijoo's command. He moves inside Yuma slowly, a delicious drag of his cock out and then back in.
“Yes, yes, thank you,” Yuma breathes. He fumbles to get his hands on Fuma's face and drags him up to kiss him, pouring all the feelings he's been hiding away into the slide of their lips together. Fuma kisses back just as intently, emotions laden in every brush of his tongue against Yuma's, every stroke of his cock inside Yuma.
For the first time, the slow pace doesn't make Yuma feel the need to beg for more. Not yet. Right now he's content with this, with Fuma grinding gently into him, with pausing between each touch, with pulling back to look at each other before they kiss again.
Fuma presses their foreheads together, thumb brushing over Yuma's cheekbone. “Is this good, baby?” he asks. His voice is softer than Yuma’s ever heard it during sex, the question one Yuma never thought Fuma would feel the need to ask. “Am I making it good for you?”
Yuma presses another kiss to Fuma's lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “You always do.”
It's an echo of what Fuma told Euijoo last time, when Euijoo asked if Yuma was really good for Fuma and Fuma said always. Yuma didn't let himself think of it as anything more than being good at pretending to be Euijoo at the time, but now he does. Now he thinks that Fuma must have meant it just as sincerely as Yuma does.
It feels unbelievable that this is happening. As much as Yuma has lost himself in the bubble he and Fuma have created for themselves, he can't forget Euijoo's role in bringing them here. He not only let this moment happen, he orchestrated it. He could easily have shut Yuma down for good, and he didn't.
Yuma turns his head to see that Euijoo is watching them, one hand lazily palming his cock through his pants. He’s too far away. Yuma wants him closer, wants him inside the bubble with them.
“Euijoo-kun,” Yuma says, voice raspy with need. “C’mere.”
Euijoo hesitates, and Yuma reaches the hand he had on Fuma’s cheek toward him.
“Please,” he says. “Want you to kiss me, too.”
That spurs Euijoo into action, shifting onto his knees and threading his fingers with Yuma’s. He lets Yuma pull him in and then redirects Yuma’s arm above his head, pressing it into the bed.
Yuma whimpers. “Please, Euijoo-kun,” he begs. "Kiss me, c'mon, please."
Euijoo's kiss isn't as intense as Fuma's. It's a careful press of lips, softer than Yuma expected, matching the way Fuma's been fucking him. Euijoo's tongue teases along Yuma's top lip, and Yuma moans and opens up, licking into Euijoo's mouth.
"Fuck," Fuma breathes, his thrusts speeding up. Yuma groans, overwhelmed by getting what he wanted all along, Fuma moving inside him hard and fast. Yuma quickly loses the ability to concentrate on kissing, panting against Euijoo’s mouth as Euijoo takes over, kissing him wet and filthy, every movement pronounced to show off for Fuma. He sucks Yuma's lower lip into his mouth and scrapes his teeth over it, tugging hard. Yuma gasps and clenches around Fuma's cock, making Fuma groan and his hips stutter.
Euijoo lets Yuma’s lip slowly slip out from between his teeth. "Thought you’d like it if I bit you back,” he teases.
Yuma half laughs, half whimpers in response. “Do it again,” he demands.
Euijoo does, the pressure of his teeth filling Yuma’s chest with heady pleasure that spirals lower, pushing him to the edge. Fuma wraps a hand around Yuma’s dick, and Yuma’s whole body jerks, accidentally ripping his lip out from between Euijoo’s teeth.
“Oh, fuck.” Yuma meets Fuma’s thrusts with his hips, unsure if he’s trying to get more of Fuma’s cock inside him or more of his hand around his cock. “Fuck, it’s too much. I can’t, I can’t, I…”
“You can,” Fuma tells him, jerking his cock fast. “You can come for me, baby. I want to see it.”
There was never any hope of Yuma holding out. His orgasm crashes over him, his body turned to pure sensation, nothing left but all the places Fuma and Euijoo are touching him. He rides it for what feels like a long time. When he comes back to himself, it’s to the realization that Euijoo is licking Yuma’s cum from where some of it hit his chin. Yuma swears, more cum leaking from his cock as an aftershock ripples through him.
“So hot,” Euijoo murmurs. He kisses Yuma hard again, leaving traces of Yuma’s own taste on his tongue before sitting back to look at Fuma. “Isn’t he hot, Fuma hyung? Look at the mess he made. Are you going to make an even bigger mess of him?”
Fuma nods desperately, his cock still grinding deep inside Yuma. It’s a lot, almost too much, but then Fuma wraps his hand around Yuma’s knot and squeezes, and it slips into something sweet and molten up Yuma’s spine.
“Don’t stop, Fuma-kun,” Yuma breathes. He grabs Fuma's ass to use as leverage to meet Fuma’s shallow thrusts. “Use me.”
Fuma moans, his eyes screwing shut and then opening, focusing on Yuma’s face. “Yuma,” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” Yuma chokes out. “Say my name again.”
“Yuma,” Fuma repeats. “Yuma, baby, I—”
Fuma’s words are lost on a groan as he shakes on top of Yuma, a short burst of slick soaking Yuma’s ass and the bed underneath him. Yuma pulls his hand out of Euijoo’s grip so he can push himself up to kiss Fuma, arms wrapping around him and dragging him down as he does.
Yuma gets a little lost in kissing Fuma for a minute, but not so lost that he doesn't notice when Euijoo shifts next to them. Yuma opens his eyes in time to catch Euijoo rearranging himself so he can get a hand down his pants.
“Wait,” Yuma says. “Wait, let me suck you off.”
“You don't have to,” Euijoo says, stroking himself. “Won't last long.”
Fuma is already moving to let Yuma out from underneath him. “There's no use arguing with his oral fixation,” he tells Euijoo. “Trust me.”
Euijoo laughs, but he stops touching himself and moves back to where he was when this all started, propped against the pillows. He pushes his sweats and underwear down below his cock, hard and red against his belly, and raises an eyebrow at Yuma.
Yuma practically drools at the sight as he crawls up to him. He raises an eyebrow right back at Euijoo, then sucks him into his mouth. Euijoo moans, and Yuma matches it with his own, closing his eyes and relishing the way Euijoo's cock strains the corners of his mouth as he takes him deeper with every bob of his head.
“Fuck, you're good,” Euijoo says, threading the fingers of each hand through Yuma's hair in turn, petting him. “Got fucked so well and you still want to be filled up like this, huh?”
Yuma hums in agreement, looking up to realize that Fuma has settled in next to Euijoo and is watching Yuma too. Yuma moans, muffled around Euijoo's cock, and redoubles his efforts, wrapping a hand around the base of Euijoo's cock to jerk him off as he sucks him hard.
It’s not much longer before Euijoo swears under his breath, his hands tightening in Yuma's hair as he loses control, thrusting up into Yuma's mouth. Yuma chokes a little but doesn't pull back, determined to swallow every last drop of what Euijoo gives him.
“Jesus Christ,” Euijoo breathes when he's done. Yuma pulls off and looks up to meet Euijoo's gaze. Euijoo's expression is fond, his voice soft when he says, “Good boy.” He thumbs at the corner of Yuma's mouth, and Yuma chases his thumb with his tongue. Euijoo smiles, and Yuma smiles back at him, lulled into a moment of post-orgasm bliss before Euijoo says, “Are you ready to use your words now?”
Yuma makes an indignant noise. His words? Thirty seconds after making Euijoo come? How does Euijoo have enough brain to say that? Yuma hasn't even had enough time to process his sadness over Euijoo going soft instead of knotting. It's not fair.
“No,” Yuma says petulantly, crawling up to sit in Euijoo's lap and kiss him instead. Euijoo kisses back for a moment before he scruffs Yuma and yanks him away.
“See, Fuma hyung?” Euijoo says, turning his head to look at him. “This is what he was acting like. This is why I needed you to deal with him.”
“Kinda seems like it backfired,” Fuma observes. “He's still needy.”
“I'm right here,” Yuma says, wriggling in a half-hearted attempt to get out of Euijoo's grip. Surprisingly, he manages it, and he doesn't waste the opportunity to start kissing Euijoo's jaw and neck.
“Do you think you could fuck it out of him again?” Euijoo asks Fuma.
Fuma laughs. “Nah,” he says. “I like this view.”
“Great,” Euijoo says on a sigh. His hand is cradling the back of Yuma's head now, neither pushing him away nor pulling him closer. “I didn’t realize this would end with the two of you ganging up on me.”
“Well, what did you think was gonna happen?” Yuma says, unable to stop himself. He pulls back to look at Euijoo and immediately realizes his mistake when he sees the triumph on Euijoo's face.
“I'm glad you asked,” Euijoo says smugly. “I thought we would have a chance to talk about this relationship between the three of us.”
Relationship? There’s no way Yuma can have a conversation that contains the word relationship while half-naked in Euijoo’s lap. He shifts backward, ducking out from under Euijoo’s hand. “Can we clean up and get dressed before we do that?”
Yuma meant the question rhetorically, but Euijoo grabs him by the arm and forces him into stillness. He’s surprisingly strong when he wants to be. “No. You’ll run away before we can talk like last time.”
“I won’t,” Yuma says, even though he was already plotting how to do exactly that. He had enough vulnerability for one day when Fuma was fucking him.
Euijoo narrows his eyes. “You will.”
Fuma breaks into the conversation. “I thought you didn’t want me.”
Yuma snaps his head over to look at Fuma, whatever argument he was going to throw back at Euijoo dying in his throat. Fuma is looking at him, a distinctly uncomfortable expression on his face.
“I thought you only wanted the thrill of doing something you weren’t supposed to,” Fuma continues. “But you said you wanted me the whole time. Were you just saying that because I was fucking you, or did you mean it?”
Fuma makes a good show of it when he has to, but Yuma knows he hates talking about feelings just as much as Yuma does. That he’s doing it anyway… Yuma can’t resist this anymore. He has to meet Fuma halfway.
“I meant it,” Yuma says helplessly.
“Then come here,” Fuma says, holding his hands out to Yuma.
Yuma crawls into Fuma’s lap, burying his face in Fuma’s shoulder and breathing in his scent. Fuma’s hands are gentle on Yuma’s back, holding him close. “I’m sorry,” Yuma says into his shoulder. He pulls back to look at Fuma, worrying his lower lip for a second before forcing his next words out. “I just… thought you didn’t need me. I thought you’d be happy with Euijoo without me.”
Fuma shakes his head. “It’s not that I need you,” he says, making Yuma’s stomach flip. It must show on his face, because Fuma puts a comforting hand on his cheek. “It was never about that. Even that first time, I would have been fine. But you… you snuck up on me. I told you, baby. I want you. You, not just Euijoo.”
The words settle in Yuma’s chest in a way they didn’t before, when he was already overwhelmed by everything else. He can’t speak, too caught up in the way Fuma is looking at him.
“You would’ve known that if you’d seen him going out of his mind when you were avoiding us,” Euijoo says.
“I wasn’t,” Fuma protests.
“You were,” Euijoo says.
Fuma wrinkles his nose. “I was… maybe a little upset.”
“Exactly,” Euijoo says. “Don’t do that again, Yuma-kun.”
Yuma cringes. He hates the idea of Fuma sad because of him. “I won’t,” he says sincerely.
“Good,” Euijoo says. “Then we won’t have a problem.”
Fuma puts a hand on Euijoo’s shoulder and squeezes. “You can stand down, alpha,” he teases. “He already apologized.”
Yuma likes that Euijoo is being protective of Fuma, though. He honestly can’t believe Euijoo isn’t threatening Yuma with worse. “It’s okay, I deserve it,” he says. “But in my defence, I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”
Euijoo gives him a withering look. “Of course we wanted to talk to you. I thought I made it clear last time that you both belong to me. If that’s a problem, we should talk about it.”
Yuma stares at him. He thought Euijoo might let Yuma join him and Fuma sometimes, or maybe even that Fuma and Yuma could be together without him if they wanted. He wasn't expecting to be… Euijoo's. He has no idea when Euijoo thought he made that clear.
“Uh,” Yuma says, glancing from Euijoo to Fuma and back again. “Okay. No problem here.”
“Are you sure?” Euijoo asks.
Yuma’s heart is beating triple time. It’s starting to sink in that this is real, that he’s really getting everything he dreamed of and then some. “I’m sure,” he says. “But… how are you so fine with this?”
Euijoo shrugs. “I already told you. You’re both mine.”
Trust Euijoo to make something like that sound simple. Yuma can’t wrap his mind around it. “When did you decide that?”
“Probably as soon as I saw you fucking the guy I’ve been in love with for years,” Euijoo says dryly.
Yuma blinks in surprise. Since when does Euijoo just say how he feels like that? He must have said it to Fuma already, because Fuma’s expression when he looks at Euijoo isn’t one of surprise. It’s just… soft, so soft that it makes something in Yuma’s chest melt, too. He’d do anything to make sure Fuma gets to feel like that all the time.
Yuma isn’t so sappy that he’s going to let that one go, though. “No way,” he objects. “I saw your expression. You were pissed.”
Euijoo snorts. “Okay, fine. Maybe it took until I saw the way Fuma hyung was looking at you. I want him happy, too, you know.”
It’s so exactly the thought process that Yuma just had that he’s struck dumb by it. It makes Euijoo’s easy declaration suddenly make perfect sense. When it comes to Fuma, he and Euijoo are entirely on the same page.
“It would make me happy if we stopped talking so much and kissed a little more,” Fuma says. “Maybe took a shower together? Just some ideas that I have.”
Yuma exchanges a look with Euijoo, just long enough that Fuma has time to clock it and say, “Wait,” before Yuma and Euijoo pounce on him, peppering every inch of his exposed skin with kisses. Fuma laughs, squirming between them, pretending to push them away without actually putting any force behind it.
“Like this?” Euijoo teases, smacking a kiss behind Fuma’s ear. Yuma pushes Fuma’s shirt up, and Euijoo’s hand slides over Fuma’s abs and up to brush over a nipple. Fuma gasps, and Yuma kisses the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, his forehead, everywhere except his mouth.
“You two…” Fuma says, clearly trying to sound admonishing and coming out fond instead. Euijoo tickles Fuma's side, and Fuma laughs as he smacks Euijoo's hand. Yuma feels like he might float away on a cloud made of that sound.
“Sorry, you're right,” Euijoo says, even as he starts rubbing his cheek against Fuma's scent gland. “We should shower.”
“Just wanna point out that I wanted to do that first,” Yuma says, mirroring Euijoo on Fuma's other side. “But noooo.”
Fuma rolls his eyes. “Neither of you is acting like you want me to wash up.”
“Won't matter,” Euijoo says confidently.
“Not at all,” Yuma agrees. Fuma is going to smell like them for days.
Fuma lets them keep at it for another minute before he gently pushes them away. “Let's test your theory,” he says, slipping out from under Yuma and off the bed. He strips as he heads toward the bathroom, revealing rippling muscle as Euijoo and Yuma stare after him.
Yuma is about to follow when Euijoo puts a hand on his wrist. “Thank you,” he says quietly.
Yuma frowns at him. “For what?”
“For making me realize I was being stupid,” Euijoo says. “This is still terrifying and we shouldn’t be doing it, but…” He shrugs. “I don’t want to miss out because I’m scared anymore. I think this will be worth it.”
Yuma thinks about how easy it would have been for any one of them to be the one who let this slip away. Sex is simple, just dirty words and teasing hands. Confronting the feelings that make that sex so devastatingly hot is harder. There are a million reasons not to do it.
But they all care fiercely about taking care of each other, and they're all equally stubborn and foolish and a little bit insane. That's what makes Yuma think this might actually work. That’s what makes him willing to try.
“Yeah,” Yuma says. “I think it will be.”