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They must all think he’s a fucking whore.
Taking a seat at the back of the company vehicle, as far from the driver as possible, Vernon buries his face in his palms—something he’s been doing with a fair degree of regularity since the incident.
It’s been a week, and the four of them—including Vernon—have been acting like nothing happened. They’re all busy, of course—the usual twenty-four-seven rollercoaster ride of dance practice, recording sessions, fan calls, promotional events, and photo shoots that make up the lives of the members of one of the most successful groups in the industry. So it’s not like there’s been time to casually sit down and have a friendly chat about how his three hyungs caught him with a hard-on in the shower and proceeded to jerk off all over his face.
The blood rises to his cheeks, making his face burn.
He squeezes his eyes shut as his mind flashes with scenes from the showers. It’s all a blur, of course; Seungcheol’s smouldering eyes, Mingyu’s face contorted with pleasure, Wonwoo’s short, throaty moans—not to mention, of course, their big dicks, all three of them swinging in front of his face…
Please, just cum all over me!
…and their cum, hot and wet against his skin, dripping down his face; thick and cloying in his mouth, sticking to his teeth and gums.
He bristles, covering his face with his palms. What must he have looked like as his hyungs stood over him, watching him kneeling skinny and naked on the floor of the showers, begging them to use him like a little bitch?
He can’t believe he said those things. And meant them! Oh god, what the fuck is wrong with him?—he’d meant them so badly.
Because it felt so fucking good.
He drags his fingers down his face, catching the somewhat concerned eye of the driver in the rear-view mirror as he looks up. He makes a half-arsed attempt at a smile but offers no explanation since, thankfully, there’s no one else in the car; drivers, unlike most other company employees, don’t ask questions.
He hazards a quick glance at his crotch once the driver has his eyes firmly back on the evening traffic flowing around them. He’s hard, of course, his dick straining uncomfortably against the stiff fabric of his jeans. It’s a bit concerning—low-key scary even—how often he’s been getting aroused since that day. It’s as if what happened had ticked something off inside him, flicked on some internal hell switch, and now neither his mind nor his body will leave him and his dick the fuck alone.
He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down even though he knows it’s not going to work.
Ugh.
When he arrives back at the dorms, he’s going to have to nip to the bathroom and beat out a quick one. Honestly, at this point, it feels like he spends half his time jerking off and the other half hiding his erections.
He just can’t stop thinking about them and the things they did to him. Mingyu’s beautiful lips seeking out his, Seungcheol’s firm hand gripping his jaw, and Wonwoo—Wonwoo’s incredible dick stuffing his throat full.
Wonwoo’s dick…
There’s something very wrong with him. His brain won’t allow him to think about anything but dicks. He should just admit it. He is a whore. There’s no other way to frame what he’s thinking and feeling; it’s the only explanation that makes sense.
And his hyungs all know it now. Know what he’s like and what he wants and how badly he wants it. Which makes everything so much worse.
He pulls down the front of his skull cap so it covers his eyes. If he can’t see the world, maybe the world won’t be able to see him and his dumb erection either.
The driver must think he’s a fucking weirdo, but, thankfully, it’s only a few more minutes’ drive before the car comes to a stop.
Deep breath. At least he’s back now and can just go bum around in his room. With any luck, Dino will be around; chatting to his roomie might help get his mind off things—once he’s taken care of that thing that is.
The door opens and the crisp winter air rushes in, its coolness against his skin providing a bit of sobering relief. As he gets out, he’s careful to hold his duffle bag in front of his body to shield the bulge in his jeans. Not that it’s that big—but still, better safe than sorry. There’s certainly no need for even more people to know he’s some sex-obsessed freak.
The hot air inside the well-heated building envelops him. The elevator doors close and he presses the button for the fifth floor. Finally alone and out of sight, he can no longer help it, grabbing his dick through the front of his jeans and giving it a rough squeeze. His dick responds, rock-hard as it is, throbbing painfully in its confinement, and yet that sensation, that pain, is just so good, like he’s going to burst any second.
All too soon, a soft ding signals his arrival on his floor of the dorm. Again, he strategically positions his bag in front of his body and exits the elevator. Thankfully, there’s no one in the corridor. However, as he slides the key card over the sensor and opens the door, the sound of laughter and clinking glass bottles drifts over from the common room—some of the guys are clearly having a good time.
For the first few seconds he just stands there, frozen halfway through the doorway as he listens out. It’s unmistakable; that’s Seungcheol’s voice. And those giggles? They belong to the version of Mingyu that’s had a beer or two.
He can feel the perspiration forming along the edge of his skull cap as he presses his eyes shut in frustration; to get to the bathroom, he has to pass by the open doorway to the common room.
Slipping inside and closing the door as quietly as he can, he tries to get a glimpse to see if they’re facing him. With any luck, they might be watching a film or some rubbish content on the flatscreen on the wall opposite.
What are they doing here, anyway? Wasn’t Mingyu supposed to be in Jeju for some photo shoot?
No use thinking about that now. He needs to make it to that bathroom. And that’s without being noticed by the very hyungs he’s been thinking about and masturbating over all week.
If he can just get off first, he might be able to face them without bursting into flames.
Or, better yet—make it to his bedroom unnoticed altogether. He could then do something constructive like hide under the bed or scream silently into the pillows.
Throat parched, he takes a deep, silent breath, pulls his cap down to his eyebrows, and—even though he resists the temptation to go all out and literally tiptoe (in case they do notice him)—sets off past the doorway.
A loud cheer emanating from the space within nearly makes him jump out of his skin.
Fuck.
Did they spot him?
He forces himself not to stop, but shoots a sideways glance at the common room.
Against all the odds, none of them are looking his way. Seungcheol and Mingyu are there, as expected, and so is Wonwoo. The three of them. His three hyungs and nobody else. Too busy cheering and joking to notice anything but each other, they remain completely oblivious to Vernon’s presence as he slips past.
Whew!
Once out of sight, he breaks into a half-sprint towards the bathroom.
Safe inside, he tears off his jacket and drops it along with his bag on the floor then leans against the closed door, flushed and panting. A drop of sweat trails down his right temple. He reaches up and, removing his skull cap, wipes the offending liquid off before running his hand through his hair.
Letting out a long, trembling breath, he swallows as his hands set to work unbuttoning his jeans, yanking them down along with his briefs down to his knees, setting his tormented dick free, free at last.
He grabs it firmly with his right hand, squeezing the engorged shaft, which reacts by stiffening even further as more blood rushes in.
He closes his eyes, biting on his lower lip as he savours the sensation of crushing his dick in his palm. When the feeling becomes near unbearable, he loosens his grip and starts tugging at it in a frenzied mix of impatience and irritation.
He looks down at his dick, all angrily red and throbbing, and all he can think of is the feeling—the weight—of Seungcheol and Mingyu and Wonwoo’s big, heavy dicks against the skin of his palms. It makes him squirm, it makes his skin bubble and squeak, and it makes his face burn with horny shame.
Through the door, he can faintly hear his hyungs excitedly prattling about god knows what. If only they knew that he was in here, a mere twenty feet away from them, thinking about them and their bodies and their dicks, jerking off to the thought of being used by them again.
He beats his meat and he’s so close, he can feel it, he should come any second. His mind is a jumbled mess of images of that day in the shower, images of his hyungs, his gorgeous hyungs.
If only he were hung and jacked and sexy like them.
He jerks even harder.
But he doesn’t come.
He’s been dying to jerk off all day, and yet, now that he finally has his dick out of his pants and in his hand, there’s just something off about being in here alone, with nothing but his deranged thoughts and clumsy right hand; it feels empty and dry—unsatisfying.
Biting his lower lip, he doubles down, jerking himself faster and faster, and yet…
…he won’t come.
Again and again… he’s close… gonna happen for sure this time… but again, no.
He staggers away from the bathroom door, dick still in his hand, and positions himself in front of the mirror, taking in his scrawny frame and the look of desperation in his eyes. His dick is already sore from all the frantic yanking and squeezing, and he’s increasingly aware that he’s going about this the wrong way, but all that he can think of is the need to get off.
“Oh, fuck this!” he tells his reflection in the mirror.
The cupboards. He rips open the one on the right of the mirror, and then the one on the left, hunting for something—anything—to lubricate his ailing dick. His eyes eventually settle on a purplish-black tube with Japanese written on it along with the words Sod Lotion in English. That sounds promising. Of course, he shouldn’t be stealing his roommates’ toiletries, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all that jazz, and he grabs the tube, pops the lid open, and squeezes out a generous amount of thick, transparent gel into his palm. The consistency is sticky and very soft, silky even; in a word, perfect.
He lathers his dick in the gooey jelly, the coolness of it a welcome balm for the poor, overstimulated body part. He squeezes out some more and rubs it on his balls and the lowest abs just above his dick, not caring how the gloopy stuff makes his pubes stick messily to his skin, because the feel of it is really good; with any luck, this should work. He closes his eyes, focusing his mind on the mental image that left the biggest impression on him the other day in the showers; Wonwoo’s massive dick lolloping in front of his face, thick and heavy, promising to slap him over his face and ram itself down his throat before spraying hot cum all over him.
Going more slowly this time—almost as if he were able to learn from past mistakes—he runs his fingers back and forth along the length of his dick, then gradually focuses in on rubbing the sensitive bundle of flesh at the base of the head while playing with his balls with his other hand.
He slides on to his knees on the floor in the bathroom like he did in the showers the week before, picturing himself naked in front of Wonwoo and his thick dick, and imagines what it would feel like not to just wait for it, not to just kneel there dumb and expectant, but to tell him what he wants, exactly how he wants it.
Oh, yeah, Wonwoo-hyung. Gimme that big dick.
His breathing is growing more rapid and more shallow by the minute.
Oh, fuck yeah, hyung. Stuff that enormous cock in my mouth.
And there it is—that rising sensation spreading from his dick to his torso and limbs as his whole body heats up in anticipation.
“Oh, Wonwoo-hyung. Use me. Use me as your little bitch boy.”
He’s close. So close…
“Agh, oh yeah, Wonwoo. Wonwoo-hyung, Wonwoo-hyung…”
Click.
It is at the precise moment he hears the door handle turn that he realises he never locked the fucking door, and as he turns to look, he meets the eyes of none other than his Wonwoo-hyung, standing in the doorway and regarding him with an expression of startled amusement.
“Oh, Vernon, I’m so sorry!” he says with impeccable politeness, adjusting the glasses on his nose. “I didn’t realise you were in here.”
Vernon, on the brink of death, hastily pulls his t-shirt down to cover his dick. How could he have been so fucking stupid?
“Don’t mind me! I’ll, uh, leave you to it,” Wonwoo says with a smile as he turns to leave.
Vernon nods. That’s a great idea.
“By the way”—Wonwoo turns in the doorway and cocks an eyebrow—“I’m sure I misheard, but were you saying my name by any chance?”
No. Oh god, no. Vernon shakes his head, eventually managing a weak, “Hyung, please…”
“Sorry, sorry!” Wonwoo says, raising a palm in apology. “None of my business, really.”
He closes the door behind him.
Vernon stares at the door for long moments, then looks down at the spectacle of his skinny legs kneeling on the bathroom floor, his jeans and briefs bundled around his ankles under his moronic ass.
Shit.
What the fuck just happened?
Wonwoo just walked in on him, jerking off on the floor, moaning his hyung’s name like an idiot.
No, not like an idiot; more like a horny, sex-starved loser.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
He should just yeet himself out the window right this moment and be done with it.
And that’s before he even realises that, at some point, he needs to exit this bathroom. And they—they’re out there.
Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Wonwoo. All three of them are out there in the common room, unlikely to head off to bed anytime soon; it’s only just gone nine p.m., and, for obvious reasons, he won’t be able to just sneak past unnoticed this time.
They’re probably talking about him right now. Wonwoo will obviously have told them what happened. That he was jerking off in the bathroom with the door unlocked. He can picture them perfectly, pissing themselves laughing as Wonwoo mimics him moaning his name.
Maybe he should just stay in the bathroom. Lock the door and sleep on the floor. Great idea, and clearly one that would solve all his problems.
He covers his face with his hands. He’d cry except his life is just a bit too comical.
There is a single upside to all this—a silver lining—and that is that his dick is no longer hard.
Yay.
He dazedly gets to his feet and pulls up his briefs and jeans. He goes over to the sink, then bends over and splashes water on his face. Grabbing the sides of the sink and looking in the mirror, he watches the water drip from his chin. One falls and a second one forms to take its place. A half-hearted attempt to sort out his hair meets with limited success so he puts his skull cap back on. The tube of Sod Lotion is lying open on the side of the sink, a bit of gel leaking out of the nozzle; he wipes it clean, closes the tube and puts it back in the cupboard.
He closes his eyes. He needs to think. Much as he’d like to, he can’t stay in this stupid bathroom forever; sooner or later, someone will come knocking.
If he can just make it to his bedroom, he won’t need to face up to his loser life for another ten or so hours.
He places his ear against the door. They’re still there, for sure, still chatting and drinking. However, they sound perfectly normal; he’s not sure what he was expecting—whispered plotting or unhinged cackling, maybe—but everything sounds exactly the way it did when he entered earlier. As if nothing had happened.
With a grimace, he opens the door a crack. When nothing explodes and no one invades the bathroom, he opens the door a tad further, peering cautiously out into the hallway. Craning his neck, he can sort of see obliquely into the common room, where the back of Seungcheol’s head is just barely visible. He seems to be relating a story, his animated voice and hand gestures discernible even at this distance.
He opens the door wide enough to slide out into the corridor.
Alright. This is it. He’s gonna make a line for his bedroom.
But the universe hates him.
He hasn’t even taken his third step when Mingyu’s voice rings out loud and cheerful, declaring to the other two that he’s popping to the bathroom, and Vernon hasn’t even had time to process when his hyung emerges from the room into the hallway and spots him, a surprised smile spreading across his face.
“Hey, Vernon!” he exclaims, eyes beaming as he swans over. “Oh, man. I didn’t know you were back.”
“Hey, man,” Vernon says, in the most casual dude-to-dude tone he’s ever produced. “Yeah, just got back. Kinda tired, to be honest.”
“Hey, guys,” Mingyu shouts back to the others as he lays a heavy arm across Vernon’s shoulders, nearly knocking him off balance. “Vernon’s here!”
“Yeah, about that. I was just about to head…” Vernon starts but gets cut off.
“We were talking about you just now,” Mingyu pronounces, voice softening, a whiff of beer on his breath.
Vernon stares at him in horror. “Oh?”
Mingyu bares his set of perfect white teeth in a big grin. “Yeah,” he confirms, the soft, amused huff under his breath filling his dongsaeng’s chest with mortified dread.
What have they been saying about him?
Mingyu frowns, his eyes losing their focus for a second before he turns to Vernon and pokes a playful finger at his collarbone. “You,” he utters with great conviction, “need a beer.”
Vernon tries to wriggle out of his hyung’s embrace, but he’s no match for the strength of Mingyu’s larger frame, and, before he knows it, he finds himself being dragged—carried almost—in through the doorway to the common room.
“Listen, I was gonna have an early…” he stammers, frantic to make his escape.
But it’s no use.
“Woo! It’s our boy Sollie!” Seungcheol erupts in a cheer fit for a football hooligan as he gets up from the couch and crashes into his two dongsaengs in a drunken embrace.
“Cheoli-hyung is a bit drunk already,” Mingyu giggles, seemingly unaware of his own non-trivial state of inebriation. Thankfully for Vernon, though, Mingyu is still steady enough on his feet to keep both of them from collapsing under the weight of Seungcheol’s onslaught.
Trapped between his two hyungs, Vernon seeks out the eyes of Wonwoo, who is sat on the couch, holding a glass of golden liquid and watching their antics with a faint smile on his face. When he catches Vernon looking at him, he brings an index finger to his lips, then gives him a wink and takes a sip of his drink.
“Guys, let the poor guy sit down at least,” he says firmly, yet stoically, as he places his tumbler on the table. “And get him a beer.”
At this point, alcohol is probably the best option. He chugs half the bottle in one go, the cool liquid washing down his throat as his hyungs cheer him on before settling back into the nonsensical back-and-forth they were engaged in before dragging Vernon in, Mingyu and Seungcheol increasingly boisterous, Wonwoo cool, calm and collected as always.
He watches them, on edge, waiting for an odd look, a pointed joke, or a snide remark, but nothing of the sort materialises. Wonwoo makes a point of toasting with him across the table on more than one occasion, sending reassuring smiles his way. Gradually, he accepts that Wonwoo probably hasn’t mentioned the incident earlier on. Before long, there’s a second bottle of beer in his hand, and then a third; his eyes are all fizzy and his limbs feel light and heavy at the same time. He laughs at their jokes, and even contributes the occasional bantering remark, and, honestly, this evening is turning out to be a lot less of a shit show than it could have been.
Hanging out with them like this, just four guys grabbing some beers and doing their bro thing, it seems inconceivable that only a short seven days ago they were feeling him up in the showers, shoving their dicks down his throat and coming in his face.
It was just a one-off. A freak incident.
They can all just keep up the act, pretend the whole thing never happened. Right?
And, just perhaps, by hanging out with them as he’s doing now, he can stop fantasising about them and go back to simply seeing them as his friends, his group mates, his hyungs.
It’s all for the best.
“Oh, what the fuck!”
Vernon looks up at the sudden commotion. Mingyu is giggling uncontrollably as he stares down in disbelief, the whole front of his tight white t-shirt soaked through with spilt beer. On the other side of him, Seungcheol is bent over with laughter, incoherent as he gesticulates at Mingyu and tries in vain to make words. Wonwoo is shaking his head, but even he can’t help snickering at the spectacle of his silly mates.
With a swift movement that belies his drunken state, Mingyu grabs the lower hem of his t-shirt and removes it, tossing it on the floor behind the couch.
The saliva in Vernon’s mouth evaporates.
Still laughing, Mingyu grabs a tissue and wipes the bare skin between his large, perfectly-formed pecs, the bronze-tan surface glistening with the moisture of the spilt drink. He sticks out his tongue as he struggles to concentrate on dabbing his chest, his well-defined abs tensing and rippling in response to his movements, while further down his jeans ride low on his hips, the silvery band of his designer briefs exposed invitingly.
He looks so fucking hot.
Vernon shifts uncomfortably on the couch, rearranging his legs in a way he hopes will at least partly conceal his growing arousal. He knows his cheeks are burning, and—what’s worse—Wonwoo has noticed, a raised eyebrow signalling his curiosity as his eyes travel between Vernon on the couch and Mingyu standing in between them.
When did everything go dead silent?
Mingyu, following the line of Wonwoo’s gaze, turns to make eye contact with Vernon, smiling at him, almost self-conscious, as if that were possible for someone that hot, then letting his hand trail down between his abs before coming to a rest by the string of his jeans.
“Like what you see?” It’s Wonwoo who articulates the question clearly on everyone’s mind, staring a petrified Vernon straight in the eye.
It would be really considerate of them if they could—at least sometimes—ask him questions that don’t rob him of the ability to speak.
When, as expected, he fails to produce an answer to the question, Mingyu giggles slightly, but it’s Seungcheol who speaks.
“How could he not?” he breathes, closing in on Mingyu and devouring him with his eyes. “You’ve been working out extra hard lately, huh?”
Mingyu preens with pleasure at the compliment, a broad grin on his face as he traces his fingers over his biceps and pecs and flexes for his hyung, who makes no attempt to disguise his thirsty approval and eagerly explores Mingyu’s large muscles with his hands.
“I’ve also been working on my legs, hyung,” Mingyu says, and, without hesitation, unbuttons his baggy jeans, letting them collapse around his ankles before toeing them out of the way impatiently, leaving him with nothing on but his designer briefs. His perfectly formed ass cheeks are right in front of Vernon’s face as he contracts his quads to show them off to Seungcheol who generously signals his admiration as he moves in closer to shamelessly fondle Mingyu’s magnificent body.
And Mingyu lets him, offering up one part of himself after another for Seungcheol to touch, leaving Vernon breathless and envious.
Imagine being that hot, that comfortable with your body.
“Touch him,” comes a whisper by his ear. He nearly falls off the couch; how the fuck did Wonwoo magically appear at his side like that?
“Go ahead,” Wonwoo carries on, his voice low and seductive. He then turns his gaze to Mingyu and runs a finger along the skin on his muscular thigh. “He loves being touched—and adored.” The last two words leave his mouth slow and heavy, plunging into Vernon’s mind as he stares at the perfect physique on offer in front of him.
He loves being touched.
His fingertips, trembling, make contact with the skin on the back of Mingyu’s thigh, trailing over the smooth contours of the muscles. He directs his hand upwards along the inner surface of his thigh until he reaches the soft fleshy area where it connects with the inviting curve of his firm bum cheek, split diagonally by the tight edge of his briefs digging into the plump flesh, a band of less tanned skin running along it.
Swallowing, he shoots Wonwoo a nervous glance, just to make sure he hasn’t got this wrong. His hyung is no longer touching Mingyu; instead, he’s observing Vernon closely, his habitual smirk playing over his lips. Without breathing a word, he gently takes hold of Vernon’s wrist and nudges his hand upwards onto Mingyu’s bum cheek, then presses it against it in such a way that Vernon is forced to open his hand and cup his ass so the cheek fills his palm.
So fucking hot.
Before he knows what he’s doing, he gives in to the urge to squeeze. His fingers sink into fabric and flesh deliciously, the interplay of soft surface tissue and firmer muscle underneath setting fire to his stomach.
“Aah!” Mingyu reacts with a surprised, drawn-out moan. Vernon, startled at what he’s done, looks up, but his hyung remains turned away from him, not even checking to see who is doing this to him, busily engaged as he is with Seungcheol, who is licking his neck and collarbone.
This feels illegal. Is he really allowed to just play with his hyung like this? Groping and squeezing his ass like it belonged to him?
Wonwoo winks at him, and then turns to Mingyu.
“Gyu-ya, I think young Vernon really likes your ass.”
Vernon, mouth open in shock, stares at Wonwoo before looking to check Mingyu’s reaction. The latter murmurs a low “Uh?” in response but otherwise doesn’t pay them much heed as Seungcheol is keeping his attention occupied by groping his large pecs and sucking intensely on his nipple.
“Gyu-ya,” Wonwoo repeats, adopting a slightly impatient tone.
Mingyu turns slightly towards them, looking at Wonwoo quizzically, drunk on Seungcheol’s adulation, clearly struggling to make out what his other hyung wants. Seungcheol reluctantly takes his lips off Mingyu but continues feeling him all over.
“Take off your briefs,” Wonwoo instructs. “They’re getting in the way.”
Mingyu blinks rapidly, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks, but he complies. He bends over, his beautiful legs bending as he slips the briefs down them, his long dick, at half mast, coming into view as he straightens up again.
“Fuck, yeah,” Seungcheol rasps. “That’s my beautiful boy.”
Vernon looks at each of them in turn. This is beyond anything he could have imagined even in his thirstiest fantasies; the three of them, all fully dressed, looking at and admiring Mingyu, standing completely naked in their midst. And Mingyu, basking and glowing in their attention, knows just how sexy and desirable he is. And out of his three admirers, Mingyu is looking at him.
“Now, be a good boy for Vernon,” Wonwoo directs, his earlier playful expression replaced by one of seasoned determination.
Mingyu doesn’t hesitate and gets on his knees in front of Vernon. His thick black hair cascades over his forehead, partly obscuring his dark eyes, glimmering with anticipation. His lips are parted, swollen from Seungcheol’s kisses, and there is a flush to his cheeks that has nothing to do with bashfulness. His bare shoulders and chest catch the light, outlining him in gold and accentuating the rise and fall of his immense pecs as his breaths come rapid and shallow, while further down his torso, the trail of his sculpted abs travel past his navel to where his shaved dick hangs, heavy and half-hard, between his powerful thighs.
And then he blinks, licks his lips, leaving his tongue perched suggestively between them, and tilts his head to one side.
“C’mon, Vernon,” Wonwoo murmurs. “He’s yours.”
His mind is buzzing. Sure, Mingyu and him kissed in the showers, and messed around with their two hyungs looking on, but this feels so different. Mingyu is offering himself up to him, naked, waiting for him to take charge and do with him what he wants.
If only he knew what he wanted…
He’s acutely aware of Wonwoo and Seungcheol, watching them, their every move. But his eyes remain glued on Mingyu, transfixed by his beauty.
His limbs are heavy with hesitation; what is he supposed to do with all this. (He’s just the dongsaeng, for christ’s sake!) And yet the blood coursing through his veins is screaming for him to reach out and take what’s on offer.
Fingers trembling, his hand reaches out through the thick, charged air separating them, making contact with the golden skin on Mingyu’s neck. The older boy reacts immediately, his lips finding the skin on Vernon’s forearm, just above the wrist. His breath is hot and his tongue is wet as he laps at him playfully, all the while gazing at Vernon with dark and hungry eyes.
“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Wonwoo murmurs, a hint of pride moistening his syllables.
Mingyu is gorgeous. He really is. But it’s not only that. He looks so pliable and submissive—so fucking slutty. It’s making his head spin.
He pulls him in, and Mingyu obliges by straddling him on the couch, his meaty thighs thick and firm against the sides of Vernon’s body. Mingyu’s heaving chest—so big—is level with his face and he doesn’t hold back, grabbing onto him, kneading the thick muscles that flex and shift in response, first hardening, then softening again.
“Ah, ah,” Mingyu moans softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You like my body?” he asks, the neediness of his tone sending Vernon’s brain into a riot of disbelief and longing.
He looks up at Mingyu, mesmerised by the questioning look in his dark eyes, awaiting his response with anticipation.
“Tell him, Vernon. He’s dying to hear you say it.”
Tell him? Why? It doesn’t make any sense. Why would Mingyu want—let alone need—his approval? His hyung is literally worshipped by fans the world over, and he knows it.
And yet Mingyu is waiting, eyebrows questioning, lips parted, breath shallow as he waits for Vernon to say something.
Unfreezing, he blushes furiously and blurts out, “Your body—it’s incredible, hyung.”
Mingyu’s body convulses in response to his words; his thighs tighten around Vernon’s sides, his chest heaves with a sharp intake of breath, and his eyelashes flutter.
He loves being adored.
Drunk on the effect his clumsy compliment is having on his gorgeous hyung, Vernon attacks his left nipple with his mouth. He sucks on it, cupping the huge pec around it with his hand. The larger boy throws his head back in response and arches his torso forward, laying one hand on Vernon’s head and another on the small of his back to pull them together even closer, as if to smother him between his massive man-tits.
He loses it, lets his tongue and teeth play over the delicious skin, taking in its hot flavour, feeling how it becomes all wet and sticky as his saliva spreads all over it. He sinks his teeth in, the friction of enamel on skin contrasting with the shifting layers of muscle underneath, and he laps at it like some unhinged animal—no longer caring to know what he’s doing.
Mingyu’s large hands slide down the sides of his body and slowly but surely ease Vernon’s t-shirt over his head, taking extra care not to slow him down. The skin on Vernon’s chest collides against Mingyu’s firm abdomen, their bodies converging.
And then there is a hand in his hair, arching his neck backwards, and Mingyu leans forward, eyes closed as he seeks out his mouth and their lips merge.
Time flows the wrong way, and Vernon is back on the floor in the shower, naked in among the din of running water all around, and there is nothing but Mingyu—delicious Mingyu—on his lips and in his mouth, their skin pressed together, Vernon’s hand groping for his long dick, feeling it, fondling it…
Until…
“Gyu-ya, didn’t I tell you he likes your ass?” Wonwoo’s voice is firm and signals a hint of impatience. The implied command is soft but non-negotiable.
Mingyu breaks out of the kiss, blinking woozily as he looks to his side at Wonwoo then back at Vernon. Then he lowers his eyes and slides off the couch, looking up at Vernon one more time before turning around, getting down on all fours and arching his back beautifully, exposing everything there is to expose.
Vernon’s pupils could not possibly dilate any further.
“It’s terrible of us to be corrupting you like this.” A near-whisper, but Vernon would be hard pressed to miss the tone of placid triumph in Wonwoo’s voice.
He takes in the stunning view of his hyung offering himself up to him so completely, then places a hand on either cheek and massages the flesh slowly, his fevered state of mind levelling up yet another notch as Mingyu reacts instantly, moaning softly as he arches his back further and presses himself into Vernon’s palms. He squishes the cheeks together and then apart, but throughout it all, his eyes are fixed on one spot only.
His hole.
He slides a finger in between and touches it, watching in wonder as it reacts. He lets his fingers play over the opening, pressing tentatively against it.
And Mingyu responds to every graze, every probe, his body curling from the stimulus, small incoherent sounds escaping his throat.
“Oh, fuck, Mingyu-ya,” comes Seungcheol’s voice. “You’re being such a good boy for Sollie.”
Vernon, startled, looks up to find his hyung standing at the edge of the table, watching him and Mingyu intently as he slowly takes a swig from his bottle of beer. He meets Vernon’s gaze and a corner of his mouth curls upwards in a smirk.
“Go ahead. Use him,” he says, gesturing at Mingyu with the bottle. He states it plainly—matter of fact. “Wonwoo and I use him all the time.”
“Hyung!” Mingyu whines, glancing back to check Vernon’s reaction—but he doesn’t stop pressing back into his hand.
Sensing Wonwoo shift by his side, Vernon turns around to find Wonwoo studying Mingyu with a flat, unreadable calm.
“It’s true,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off the boy on all fours. “He likes being used—such a little faggot.”
Mingyu whimpers, and his breaths come shallow and rapid, but he continues grinding into Vernon’s hand.
Vernon stares at Wonwoo, shocked at the soft steel in his voice. But he doesn’t get a chance to recover before Wonwoo turns to him.
“Would you like to fuck him?”
Swallowing, he looks back to Mingyu, who is still watching him with his mouth open, eyes unfocused.
“I—I can?” Vernon stammers, eyebrows raised as he meets Mingyu’s pleading gaze.
“Of course, you can.” It’s Wonwoo who replies, not Mingyu.
“Put your dick in him, Sollie,” Seungcheol says, “and let us watch.”
His dick. Mingyu spread out before him is without a doubt the hottest, most stunning sight he’s ever laid eyes on, yet the overload of visual information on offer is frying his brain so badly that it’s only in the very moment that Seungcheol utters the word “dick” that the needy desperation rushing through his veins and thrumming against his temples consolidates at the front of his jeans, pressing against the fabric and desperately wanting out.
He’s hard as fuck.
A bit of fumbling with his fly does the trick. As he pushes down his jeans and boxers, his dick bounces free. He doesn’t hesitate, grabs hold of either side of Mingyu’s ass and thrusts forward, letting the head of his dick rub against the skin, pushing in between the cheeks, dry-humping against Mingyu’s hole. Repositioning himself, he slides more of his length in between the cheeks, rubbing the shaft of his dick against Mingyu’s hole and pushing the cheeks in from the sides to squeeze tight around his dick.
“Whoa, steady there, tiger,” Seungcheol laughs. “You haven’t even lubed him up yet.”
Vernon halts and looks up in time to see Seungcheol toss an unidentified object over to Wonwoo, who catches it deftly.
Flustered, Vernon looks at the thing Wonwoo holds out to him. A shiny blue bottle—phallic in shape, of course—labelled Happy Puppy.
“Make him feel good,” Wonwoo says as Vernon’s fingers close around the bottle.
Popping the bottle open, he gives it a good squeeze, expecting something similar to the thick, gloopy Sod Lotion he found in the bathroom. He realises his mistake as a sticky gel liquid gushes out of the nozzle, but it’s too late. His right hand is completely smeared in the stuff, with a couple of driblets escaping, one landing on the floor and the other on Mingyu’s ass cheek.
It’s a fucking mess.
He looks up to see if his hyungs are laughing at him, but Seungcheol’s expression is one of intense curiosity, one hand rubbing the front of his jeans as he watches Vernon, and Wonwoo looks like Sherlock Holmes about to have one of his eureka moments.
He reaches down, hand sticky and dripping, and makes contact again with Mingyu’s inviting ass. He spreads the gel all over the skin, and—oh shit!—it makes feeling Mingyu up even more amazing. Not least because as he rubs his cheeks and probes in between them, Mingyu starts whimpering with impatience from feeling his luscious ass get slicked up good.
“Oh fuck, Vernon-ya…”
Vernon thrusts his first finger inside. His hole yields so easily, and inside is silky and warm. He lets his finger investigate, probing this way and that, past the ring muscles into the nebulous space beyond. He inserts a second finger, and a third, Mingyu’s hole tightening then accommodating his knuckles in response. He pushes further, sinking his fingers in.
His hand is knuckle-deep up Mingyu’s ass.
And Mingyu is whining.
Like a horny little bitch.
Wonwoo’s words echo in his mind. Such a little faggot.
“Fuck, yeah, Vernon,” Seungcheol rasps. “Give it to him.”
Yes.
He pulls out of him and lets his fingers play over his dick, letting the liquid—warm from Mingyu’s heat—spread over his shaft. Then he kneels behind Mingyu and presses against his slicked-up ass.
It feels so good. Stray memories flash through his mind of the countless times he’s jerked off horny and alone, thinking about exactly this—feeling his dick against his hyung’s ass, or just against the ass of another man in general for that matter.
He pushes in, and Mingyu’s ass envelops the head of his dick just as Mingyu lets out a protracted “aaagh”...
…and it’s so good, just too fucking good.
He can’t help it.
By the time he’s fully sunk inside Mingyu, his balls are already contracting and he’s convulsing and then—oh fuck!—the waves of his cum spurt into his hyung. Spasms of pleasure radiate from his dick to his limbs, his skin, his barely functioning brain only vaguely registering the sounds he’s making.
His lungs work overtime as he struggles to catch his breath, hands on Mingyu’s ass, his gradually softening dick still inside. Mingyu shifts underneath him, reaching back with one hand as Vernon slips out. Arching his muscular back, he looks over his shoulder, biting his lower lip as he holds his hand to his hole.
What the fuck just happened?
That was over way too quick. Oh, shit. Mingyu must think he’s a fucking loser.
“I—I didn’t mean to come so quickly,” he stutters, but then there is the touch of a hand reaching around the back of his neck.
“That was so hot,” Seungcheol whispers into his ear, touching a finger to his cheek as he does so. “You did so well.”
Vernon blinks at him, uncomprehending. That was hot? He did well? He tries to piece it together, but his leader doesn’t give him much time because, the next thing Vernon knows, Seungcheol is leaning in. His lips graze across the skin on Vernon’s jawbone and cheek, then by the corner of his mouth, and then, their lips are touching.
It’s a slow kiss. Soothing. A kiss that makes Vernon’s mind cloud over once more, transporting him out of his panic. His body is still tingling from the euphoric thunderclap of coming inside Mingyu. Seungcheol is holding him, soft but firm, his tongue exploring him gently, without haste. He tastes different from Mingyu—less sweet, more raw.
But it isn’t just the taste that’s different.
He kissed Mingyu; he is being kissed by Seungcheol.
The thought makes him melt—melt into the strong arms that are the only thing holding him upright at this point.
Seungcheol responds to his body going limp by grasping him more firmly, his jaw and tongue chasing after him as his head tilts backwards. And then the leader’s lips part from his, working their way onto his earlobe, breath hot in his ear.
“How do you feel, baby boy?”
Vernon hears himself moan in reply.
Hands trail down his body, along the sides of his ribs, his waist, and then they’re cupping his cheeks. Big, strong hands on his small cheeks. At the same time, he can feel other hands on him, removing his jeans and boxers, which had been hanging around his knees all this time.
“Such a sweet little ass you have, Sollie-ya,” Seungcheol says.
It tickles—the thick, strong finger brushing against the fine down between his cheeks, rubbing against his hole. It tickles and sends needy shivers up his spine, and suddenly he’s seized with an uncontrollable urge to be kissed again.
“Hyung,” he hears himself wail as he seeks out Seungcheol’s mouth again.
His hyung has him covered, sinking his tongue past his lips again and letting him suck on it hungrily as the thick finger starts pressing against him in that place he’s never been touched in before.
Seungcheol’s tongue is thick and firm, just like everything else about his hyung. He wants his hyung in his mouth like this forever while feeling him up all over. He doesn’t want it to stop.
He wants his hyung so bad.
Not quite sure how to articulate his base desire, he pauses the kiss just long enough to whine, “Hyung, please…” but the message seems to come across nevertheless, clearly evidenced as Seungcheol resumes kissing him, this time even more greedily.
“Fuck, yeah,” Mingyu says. “He’s so into you, hyung.”
“I think it’s time to lube our baby boy up,” Wonwoo observes.
At the sound of his other hyungs’ voices, Vernon stops sucking on his leader’s tongue and emerges from the kiss to groggily take in his surroundings. He hadn’t quite realised that he is full-on being carried at this point, his legs wrapped around Seungcheol’s hips. And Wonwoo is standing right next to them, reaching out to fondle a stray lock of hair sticking to Vernon’s forehead.
Seungcheol places him gently on his back on the couch, leaning in by his side, one arm still around Vernon’s shoulder, supporting him, while with the other he props up his leg.
The familiar pop of the Happy Puppy bottle is followed by the cool sensation of the liquid gel being smeared generously between his cheeks.
“There you go, hyung,” Wonwoo says. “You can work him now.”
The thick finger reappears between his cheeks, spreading the slippery substance around and onto his entrance.
Seungcheol’s whisper is hot against his ear. “I’m gonna prep you, baby boy,” he says. “Are you gonna be a good boy?”
He nods, and Seungcheol leans in to catch his surprised moan with his lips as the first finger slides inside.
It’s so intense. His muscles close in tightly around the intrusion, wrapping themselves around it, sending a raw sensation through regions inside him he’s never felt before, a sensation that becomes near-unbearable as Seungcheol starts exploring, making small circles with his fingertip against his insides.
“Fuck, yeah. Looks like he’s enjoying it,” Mingyu says, his voice coming from somewhere to Vernon’s side.
The second finger goes in. Vernon’s entire body convulses at the unexpected rise in pressure and a drawn-out whine escapes his lips. His lungs are working rapidly—oh fuck, he feels so stretched.
“Take it slow, hyung,” Wonwoo says.
The group leader concurs, leaving his two fingers buried motionless inside Vernon for long seconds. Then he slowly pulls them halfway out before thrusting them back in and builds towards a gentle rhythmic motion of running the two fingertips against Vernon’s insides.
The tension gradually eases as his body adjusts, and a warm glow spreads to the surrounding parts of his body.
Whimpering, his eyes come open to find them all watching him. Seungcheol is right by his face, looking him in the eye with tender intensity. Mingyu is to his left, kneeling naked on the other couch, touching himself as he looks on. And Wonwoo is sitting on the floor, one arm draped on the couch Vernon is lying on, his eyes fixed on what Seungcheol is doing to him.
All three of them, watching him, just like in the showers…
He doesn’t get further with that thought, because Seungcheol’s fingers move deeper inside him, and—out of nowhere—he feels his bladder fill with liquid fire, and his pelvis arches forward in an instinctive reflex to escape Seungcheol’s touch.
“H—hyung! Oh god, what the fuck?”
Seungcheol immediately desists, a soothing hush issuing reflexively from his lips.
“Oh shit! Was that his prostate?” Mingyu says, out of breath with curiosity.
The obvious answer to that question is left hanging, and instead, Wonwoo adds with a snicker, “Go easy on him, hyung. He just came, remember?”
Seungcheol, fingers still inside, rearranges his dongsaeng on the couch. “You ok there, baby boy?”
Vernon’s head is swimming. His insides feel tender, and yet his body is calling for more. And his group leader can apparently sense it, because he slowly starts moving his fingers again, just shy of that blazing spot, sending waves of pleasure through Vernon’s body that render him helpless to stop the pathetic little moans spilling from his lips.
“Just fuck him already, hyung,” Mingyu rasps. “Look at him. He’s dying to have your dick.”
Despite the haze in his head, Vernon manages a shocked glance at his youngest hyung.
“Is it true, Vernon?” Wonwoo interjects. “You gonna take Seungcheol-hyung’s dick like a good little pussyboy?”
Is this really happening? He looks at them in turn, eyes wide, breath hitching. Mingyu’s mouth hangs open, his tongue running along his upper lip as he watches with his dick is in his hand. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s expression is one of piqued interest, eyebrows raised in anticipation as he awaits Vernon’s reaction. Last but not least, Seungcheol is devouring him with his eyes.
It is happening.
His hyung is going to fuck him with Mingyu and Wonwoo watching.
He bites his lower lip—and then he gives the tiniest nod in the history of all nods.
Ding.
Seungcheol doesn’t wait, impatiently ridding himself of his clothes. Vernon looks on as his hyung’s body—thicker and meatier, paler and less sculpted than Mingyu’s—comes into view. And his body temperature rises at the sight of his big dick, pulsating in readiness.
His hyung is gonna put his dick inside him.
His grip is so firm, so strong, as he orients Vernon on the couch and lines up with his hips against his ass. Happy Puppy has magically reappeared in his deft hands, and Vernon watches spellbound as the dick hovering above him gets covered in the glossy substance then vanishes from his sight as his hyung positions it against his hole.
“Look at me, baby boy.”
He does as he’s told, and his vision starts to blur as his hyung presses inside, one millimetre at a time. It’s so hard it almost doesn’t make any sense. It didn’t feel that hard in his mouth when he sucked him off in the showers the week before, yet now it feels like an elongated rock pressing into him, stretching him out as it enters.
This is for real. He’s being fucked for the first time in his life. The pressure mounts, promising to fill him up, and he’s so ready.
Or so he thinks.
Out of nowhere, everything clenches tight and the pressure erupts into stabbing white fire.
“H—hurts—oh god!!”
It burns. His fingers dig into the couch.
“Hyung!”
He’s going to fucking explode.
“Ssshh, Sollie-ya,” Seungcheol whispers, his strong hand on Vernon’s cheek, his body warm and heavy on top of him.
“Hyung! P—please!” He’s breathing through his teeth, tears escaping from the corners of his eyes.
“Ssshh, listen to me,” Seungcheol instructs, calmly concerned. “Push against me, and focus on your breathing.”
Vernon closes his eyes and does as he’s told, taking raw breaths as deep into his stomach as he can. For long moments, the pain is unbearable, tearing through him—white-hot and relentless.
“Push against me; squeeze your little hole around me.”
Focusing on the muscles at the base of his body, he does exactly that, enveloping Seungcheol’s dick lodged unmoving within him. Gradually, he eases into longer and heavier breaths, and the fire begins to subside.
He opens his eyes to find Seungcheol watching him with rapt attention.
“Such a good boy.”
Oh fuck. He wants to be good for his hyung so bad.
Seungcheol pushes in again, taking it slow, advancing a bit at a time, making sure to pause at every whimper passing Vernon’s lips, yet slowly but surely filling him up.
“Aagh, hyung, oh fu—uck…”
“You’re doing so well, Vernon,” comes a voice—Wonwoo’s.
“Oh shit, look at him—his cute little ass taking that big dick,” Mingyu says.
Now firmly inside him, Seungcheol leans down to place a soft kiss on Vernon’s lips; then he rears back, places his hands on Vernon’s hips, pulls back slowly, and thrusts forward again, bottoming out with a groan.
“How does it feel, baby boy?”
It’s—strange. He’s sore, and tender, and it feels like he might pop any second, maybe he will die even, his insides torn to shreds by his leader’s rock-hard dick. He also really needs to pee. And yet it feels so perfect, like nothing makes more sense than for him to lie here small and naked and on display with his awesome hyung’s dick up his ass, filling him up like the little p…
He doesn’t allow himself to finish that thought.
“I—I’m good, hyung.”
With a smile, something like pride, Seungcheol pulls half his length out of Vernon’s body then pushes back in, and then again, and again, each thrust forcing a short moan out of Vernon’s lungs. He picks up pace, grabbing Vernon’s legs and pushing them further back to get a better angle.
The tension in Vernon’s body melts away, replaced with shivers of pleasure as his hyung uses him, uses his hole. The pace builds further, and the moist sounds of Seungcheol’s hips slapping against his ass echo around the room.
“Oh yeah, fuck his little boypussy, hyung!”
...his boypussy…
His mind is as blurry as his vision, the words being used registering only dimly through the thrusts assailing his body and mind. He strains to crane his neck; Mingyu is somewhere near, but he can’t see him. Instead, all he can see is Seungcheol towering over him, broad shoulders framing his large chest, already red and glowing with perspiration. Below, the dark cloud of his pubes intermittently comes into view, and Vernon finds himself wishing he could see the thick cock hammering him.
“Oh, fuck, seeing him like that makes me want to fuck him, too.”
He sees him. Mingyu has moved up close, just by Seungcheol’s side. His mouth hangs open, his tongue against his upper lip, and he strokes his long dick as he watches Seungcheol fuck him to bits.
“Yeah, hyung,” comes Wonwoo’s voice. “You should let Gyu-ya play at being top for a change.”
Seungcheol shifts, and switches to a slower, more determined rhythm. At the same time, he turns his head round to shoot Mingyu a wry smirk. “All yours,” he concedes, delivering a few more choice thrusts into Vernon before pulling out, leaving his dongsaeng feeling hollow and cold.
“Hyung!” is all Vernon can manage as Seungcheol moves aside, and Mingyu takes his place.
“What’s his pussy feel like, hyung?” Mingyu asks, licking his lips as he gazes at Vernon laid out before him.
“Nice and tight, unlike your seasoned old hole,” Seungcheol quips, not missing a beat.
Mingyu takes his eyes off Vernon long enough to swipe at Seungcheol.
Seungcheol ducks out of the way, giggling. “It’s not your fault, beautiful. Anyone who’s been fucked by Wonwoo as often as you have would be stretched out of shape, too.”
“Oh, piss off! It’s not like you don’t let Wonwoo-hyung fuck you, too,” Mingyu shoots back, rolling his eyes.
Seungcheol again doesn’t bat an eyelid, grinning unapologetically. “I was drunk, okay?”
“Cut it out, you two,” Wonwoo laughs. “You’re neglecting our poor dongsaeng.”
Turning his full attention back to Vernon, Mingyu looks at him playfully as lubes up his dick then guides the head between his ass cheeks. Once it’s in place, he grabs Vernon’s legs and starts pushing in.
“First you fucked me, and now I get to fuck you back,” he points out, his voice teasing and flirtatious.
His dick slides in, not as thick as Seungcheols, but longer, sharper. After the workout Seungcheol has just given him, Vernon would have thought taking Mingyu’s dick would be easy, but the feel of it is a hissing burn as it carves out an entirely different shape inside him.
“Oh, yeah, look at him squirm,” Seungcheol growls as he sidles up behind Mingyu, placing his hands on his hips and looking down at Vernon.
Mingyu takes it slow, fucking into Vernon with long thrusts, almost completely drawing his dick out each time before going for the next. His thrusts are methodical and precise, surgical almost, chasing the air out of Vernon’s lungs in stunted, surprised gasps. What’s more, he keeps readjusting, pushing Vernon’s legs further and further back as he tries different angles, all the while studying Vernon intently, as if he were—looking for something?
Oh fuck.
Vernon sees stars.
Mingyu has clearly found what he was looking for—that spot Seungcheol grazed against earlier and turned his insides to liquid fire. Now Mingyu’s dick is ramming against it, picking up pace, and every thrust sends lightning flashing up his spine while fireworks go off in his brain.
“What are you doing to the boy,” Wonwoo laughs, “to make him squeal like that?”
“This is how you do it, hyung,” Mingyu aims at Seungcheol. “If you want to make him happy, that is.”
“Pfft. Like you don’t scream like that, too, when I’m fucking you,” Seungcheol replies insouciantly, his voice further away now, followed by the sound of yet another bottle of beer being popped open.
Mingyu ignores him, but slows down, and Vernon feels his legs being hooked around his waist as the dick fucking into him switches to a mellower rhythm.
The break in intensity allows Vernon to regain some of his senses. Through his eyelashes, he can make out Mingyu’s silhouette towering above him, and behind it, another silhouette, Wonwoo’s, eyes on Vernon as he delivers soft kisses to Mingyu’s neck and shoulder.
“Is it my turn?”
Mingyu lets out a small laugh. “I think you should.”
Despite the haze, a small alarm goes off somewhere in Vernon’s brain. He relives the feel of Wonwoo’s dick as he sucked him off in the showers, the way it would barely fit in his mouth, the way he choked on the size of it—the thickness of it—as it pushed down his throat. If his dick did that to his throat, what’s it gonna do to his poor ass?
Seungcheol pulls up to Mingyu’s other side, beer in hand, stroking Mingyu’s ass absentmindedly while he studies Vernon.
“Wonwoo-ya, you think he can take you?” he muses, then takes a swig.
“Only one way to find out,” Wonwoo replies.
All of them, watching him.
“Hear that, baby boy?” Seungcheol takes another swig. “Wonwoo is gonna fuck you next.”
Vernon bites his lower lip as Mingyu unhooks his legs from his sides and pulls out of him. However, he maintains his grip on his legs, holding them up and leaving him exposed. And, he’s dimly aware, they are looking at him, inspecting him, down there.
“Get him on the floor.”
There is a loud rattling sound, furniture being moved. And then he’s being lifted off the couch to be placed on the fluffy rug that dominates the centre of the room.
“Just kneel here and bend over. Yeah, just like that.”
“There’s a good boy.”
His elbows rest on the rug before him, his back arched, ass in the air.
This is what he wanted, right? To be picked up and manhandled by his hot hyungs, for them to use and exploit him as they see fit—like a little bitch?
Is that what he is now?
He’s been thinking about it all week. Wonwoo’s dick. Wanting it. Wishing for the feel of it on him, in him. It’s just that he didn’t think his wish would be granted in quite this way—and so soon. And now that it’s happening…
You think he can take you?
The now-familiar feel of Happy Puppy spreads yet again between his cheeks and over his hole. Fingers—Wonwoo’s?—go inside him, probing and stretching him further. He finds himself leaning into it, craving to be fucked further, craving for the hollow carved out inside him to be filled up again.
“Look at his little boypussy getting all slicked up.”
He doesn’t look over his shoulder, doesn’t try to gauge what’s happening. He just breathes. And swallows.
Firm hands grip his hips.
“Oh god!”
He whimpers when he feels it press against his hole, even before Wonwoo starts entering him, and then his voice falters entirely as his hyung’s member reconfigures the space already stretched inside him. Fuck. He’s so much bigger than Seungcheol and Mingyu. And yet, it doesn’t so much hurt as make him feel like he’s swelling up from within to the point where he’s gonna be turned inside out.
The pressure is everywhere, radiating from his pelvis to his chest, his throat, his temples, squeezing the sweat from his pores and tears from out of the corners of his eyes—tears that have nothing to do with crying.
“Wow, he’s taking it so well!”
“Boy was made to take cock.”
Wonwoo pushes further and further into him, further than seems biologically possible. Vernon’s jaw hangs loose, his vision gone as his eyes roll up into their sockets.
Then there is the sensation of Wonwoo’s hips pressing against his ass cheeks as he bottoms out.
He’s so far inside him.
The thought makes his stomach glow and his skin shimmer.
Visions of his Wonwoo-hyung flash through his mind. The way he studied him in the showers, that amused look when he caught him jerking off in the bathroom, but also that quiet, cool intensity that makes Vernon crave his approval.
And now he’s inside him, filling him up with his big cock.
His thoughts from earlier return to him.
…what it would feel like to tell him what he wants…
“W—Wonwoo-hyung…”
Wonwoo, sheathed to the hilt, pauses. “What was that?”
…not to just kneel there dumb and expectant…
The words finally come.
“P—please! F—fuck me, hyung!”
There. He said it.
“I’ve got you,” Wonwoo replies gently.
The pace is slow as molasses to begin with, but even so his vision explodes, amorphous blotches swimming before his eyes as everything fades to white, and he’s floating on a cloud of delirious nervous signals.
“Agh, aaagh, fu—uck…”
Wonwoo builds up the tempo, fucking him ever harder, the girth of his dick crushing that blazing spot within him that sends him spiralling into a quivering mess of need as Wonwoo shreds his insides, splits him down the middle, and makes him feel whole.
It’s too much—too much.
“Oh yeah, you feel so fucking good on my cock,” Wonwoo growls as he finishes off a round of especially hard thrusts before shifting slightly, adjusting Vernon’s hips to position himself at a slightly lower angle, then switching to slower, longer thrusts.
The very next moment—as if on cue—he feels fingers in his hair, pulling his head back and forcing him to prop himself up. A thumb enters his mouth, and he sucks on it. Opening his eyes, he tries to focus but all he can discern is the thick dick hovering inches from his face.
He reaches for it without thinking, guiding it to replace the finger in his mouth, savouring its familiar shape and the taste as well as the satisfaction of knowing his group leader is fucking his face. His mouth envelops it sloppily, too far gone to actively serve as anything more than a passive receptacle to the hard dick pushing over his tongue into his throat.
“Oh, fuck, seeing you two spit-roast him like that is so hot!” Mingyu mewls approvingly.
The unfamiliar word rings between his ears and he intuitively grasps its meaning—they’ve got his naked flesh stringed between them like a piece of meat skewered by their big dicks—his body is their toy, their plaything, good for nothing but to be used on both ends for his hyungs’ satisfaction—as it should.
And there’s Mingyu’s dick, swinging by his cheek as he crowds in next to Seungcheol. Vernon lets the leader’s dick slide out of his mouth and grabs hold of Mingyu, feeling his length slide over his tongue towards the back of his throat until it won’t go further, then bobs his head on it with abandon.
“Fuck yeah,” Wonwoo exclaims. “Cum all over his face again. He loves that!”
As Mingyu leaves his mouth, Wonwoo picks up the pace again, fucking him ever harder. Stumbling back onto all fours, it is all Vernon can do to keep from collapsing on the floor as he gets hammered up the ass. Meanwhile, Seungcheol has his hand firmly on his jaw, tilting his face upwards to face him and Mingyu, slapping his face with their big dicks in between jerking themselves inches away from his nose and mouth. He opens his mouth, trying to lap at their dicks and they oblige, letting their heavy members come into contact with his upper lip and the top of his tongue in between jerking off.
He’s completely hard again, every thrust of Wonwoo’s delivering a fresh pulse of blood to his already throbbing dick.
“I can’t…” Seungcheol gasps, suddenly out of breath. He presses his dick against Vernon’s tongue, and then he comes, moaning repeatedly as he ejaculates straight into Vernon’s mouth, stray liquid littering his lips and chin.
Vernon takes in the sweet, raw taste of the hot liquid, feeling it stick to his gums and drip down his throat—relishing it to the point of ignoring the distant sound of a door opening and closing somewhere.
“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come, too,” Mingyu groans, the red throbbing head of his long hard dick capturing the entirety of what little focus Vernon still possesses.
“Fuck, yeah—gonna come—same time,” Wonwoo stutters, his grip on Vernon’s hips growing shaky as he delivers the final few desperate thrusts into him.
The knowledge that his hyung is about to cum inside him sends his untouched dick, dripping with precum, over the edge.
It all happens at the same time.
Vernon sees the white ropes of cum shooting out of Mingyu’s dick, splurting in his face. He feels it on his lips, his cheeks, his nose, and a stray strand jets across his eye onto his eyebrow and forehead, the sticky liquid getting in his eye and making it burn. But he doesn’t care; his own body is quivering and his balls are tightening as the pleasure rippling through his body blossoms into his second orgasm of the evening—
“Whoa?” someone’s voice—a familiar voice.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” Wonwoo growls as his dick pulsates with his release inside Vernon.
“What the fuck is going on?” Another familiar voice.
Vernon, blinded in one eye and still spasming with the final squirts of his own load spilling over the floor, looks up in the direction of the familiar voices.
It’s Seokmin. Standing in the doorway to the common room, eyes wide, mouth agape.
And right behind him is Dino. Matching his gobsmacked energy.
They are, of course, both staring at him. Naked on the floor like some dirty whore, with Wonwoo’s dick up his ass, his face dripping with Mingyu and Seungcheol's cum.
“Oh, uh–hi?” Seungcheol manages, looking at them sheepishly, as if wondering how to explain this.
Vernon feels Wonwoo pull out, then hears him clear his throat, but he doesn’t say anything.
“What the fuck is this!?” Seokmin demands, staring at Vernon for long moments, then scanning the faces of his stunned hyungs. He looks like he’s going to cry. Then he turns and runs down the hall.
Mingyu covers his dick with both hands.
“Dino, I…” Vernon starts, struggling to wipe the cum from his burning eye, but his voice breaks and falters.
“Damn it, Chwe Hansol—” Dino whispers, slowly separating every syllable of his roommate’s Korean name.
“—I never realised you were such a fucking whore.”