Work Text:
When Namjoon and Hoseok take the elevator down to the garage, the limousine is already parked and waiting. Inside, Jungkook is waiting too, primped and flawless like always, probably already pouring himself a glass of wine like it’s his car.
Their driver stands beside the car, and when he sees them approaching, he bows and reaches for the door. He holds it open for them, and they each offer polite greetings as they slip into the back -- Hoseok first, then Namjoon. Sure enough, Jungkook is already seated inside, glass of wine in his hand and open bottle sitting on the mini bar. He grins as the door snaps closed behind them. The partition is already rolled up.
“See you got started without us,” Hoseok jokes, gesturing to the open bottle. He slides across the long leather seats, a little closer to Jungkook.
Jungkook takes a sip of his drink, eyes smiling. “I got bored waiting. You took so long to get ready.”
He’s not wrong. Namjoon and Hoseok are on their way to some kind of industry party to mingle with important recording executives and investors -- the kind of people who can make or break careers, even those of established artists like them -- so they’re dressed to the nines in designer suits and silk ties, pressed and fitted. Their company even sent staff to style their hair, slicked back and professional and so unlike their usual appearances.
Jungkook is dressed up too -- a pretty silk button-up and slacks that hug his thighs, with shining silver jewelry around his neck and wrists. Namjoon watches Hoseok admiring them as he moves even closer to Jungkook, reaching for his wrist to run a thumb over the back of his hand. It’s a little fast for that, Namjoon thinks. The car hasn’t even left the garage yet. But then, Namjoon supposes, Jungkook always has that kind of effect on them -- rushed, heated, too much energy and no way to contain it.
Namjoon watches Hoseok’s hand slide up Jungkook’s arm, over his shoulder, and watches Jungkook take another sip of his wine as Hoseok leans in close. The limo moves then, a subtle feeling of drifting, barely perceptible through the expertise of their driver. There’s a sound, a muffled laugh, but Namjoon ignores it. He reaches across Hoseok for a wine glass from the bar, then gestures at the bottle. “Hope, pass the wine?”
Hoseok obliges, reaching out to grasp the bottle and pass it over his lap to Namjoon’s waiting hand. No one comments that Namjoon has already slipped into using Hoseok’s stage name -- already in character. But Jungkook takes his cue to down the last of his wine, and places the glass carefully back into a rack above the bar. When he looks up, Hoseok is already staring at him, hungry. They wait until Namjoon pours his glass, and sets the bottle back into a slot on the bar with a quiet thunk. Then, they move.
Jungkook’s knees hit the floor of the limo and Hoseok’s spread to make room.
Namjoon crosses his legs and watches Jungkook work, fingers delicately undoing Hoseok’s designer belt and slacks. He’s practiced and self-assured, even as he smiles coyly up at Hoseok. Namjoon hides his own smirk behind a sip of his wine. Jungkook knows his angles, knows the ways they both like to see him. The way he bites his lower lip, staring up through his eyelashes to make his eyes look even bigger -- it’s a show just for Hoseok
A deft hand reaches under the waistband of Hoseok’s underwear, and a second later, Jungkook has his fingers wrapped around Hoseok’s cock. He moves slowly, squeezing gently on each stroke, urging Hoseok to hardness even though he’s halfway there on his own. Hoseok sighs, sinking back into the soft leather seat, and lifts a hand to rest on the back of Jungkook’s neck.
“You’ve been waiting for it, haven’t you, babe?” Hoseok purrs.
Jungkook grins up at him. “Have I?” It’s a game, one they play every time. Like the stage names and the careful distance.
Hoseok’s smirk turns sharp. He loves to play along. “Oh, I know you have. You’re always so thirsty for it.” He licks his lips, drops his hand to pet his thumb along Jungkook’s cheek. “Why don’t you take a taste, hm?”
There’s a moment of hesitation, of Jungkook staring up at Hoseok with big eyes that say I’ll do anything you want and a grin that says if you can make me. So Hoseok tightens his fingers around the back of Jungkook’s neck, and pulls him forward. Namjoon sees the strain in Jungkook’s neck, the hint of resistance -- because that’s exactly what Hoseok wants. Then he gives, and leans forward to press his lips against the head of Hoseok’s cock.
Hoseok relaxes, a deep sigh and a little shudder along his spine. “That’s it,” he urges. “We all know you want it.”
Jungkook doesn’t answer. He pulls back again -- just enough to hook his fingers under Hoseok’s waistband and pull his underwear down a little further. Then he wraps one hand around the base and presses another kiss to the tip.
Namjoon watches him close his eyes, then part his lips. He tilts his head as he moves, slowly opening his mouth to take a little more, until his lips are sealed around the head and Hoseok’s groaning deep in his chest. He knows what Hoseok’s feeling right now -- Jungkook’s hot, wet mouth, and his skilled tongue licking across sensitive skin, caressing all the spots he knows will drive Hoseok wild. Namjoon sees Jungkook hollow his cheeks, and like clockwork, Hoseok moans again, fingers digging into Jungkook’s neck.
He pulls off with a soft pop, and there’s a bit of spit connecting his lips to Hoseok’s dick. It makes something twist in Namjoon’s gut. But he’s patient, he can wait his turn. He lifts his wine glass to his lips and takes another drink.
Then Jungkook dives back in, this time taking Hoseok deeper, until his lips meet his own fingers still wrapped around Hoseok’s cock. He stays there for just a moment too long, letting Hoseok feel it, letting the anticipation build. Then he pulls up, nice and slow, cheeks hollowing again. There’s a slurping sound, wet and disgusting, and Namjoon would hate it if it didn’t turn him on so much.
Jungkook keeps going until he pulls all the way off. Then he strokes once, twice, twisting his wrist as he does to smear his spit all over Hoseok’s cock, to make the glide a little smoother. “You were right,” he teases, leaning down to press another kiss to the wet tip. “I did want a taste.”
There’s a beat before it sinks in -- then Hoseok laughs, already breathless. “God, you’re something.”
“I know,” Jungkook says, all cocky self-assurance.
He must know, because it’s been how many months of this? How many times he’s had the two of them at his mercy? And they keep calling him back. Namjoon wonders if he realizes just how significant that is. But then Jungkook pulls back a little more, leaning away from Hoseok and turning his attention to Namjoon.
“Are you watching, RM?” Jungkook asks, even as he turns to meet Namjoon’s heavy gaze.
Their eyes lock and Namjoon watches Jungkook take a deep breath, chest expanding and jaw falling. He looks dazed, star-struck like he always does, like the first night they met. Namjoon knows this is the show just for him.
“I’m watching,” he says. He takes one more, long drink. Then he reaches out to set his empty glass in the slot on the bar beside Jungkook’s -- to show Jungkook that yes, he has Namjoon’s full attention now, and he’d better use it.
Jungkook’s grin gets a little wider, a little more confident. He turns back to Hoseok, and Namjoon watches him brace himself for whatever Jungkook is about to do to him.
It starts with a bit more teasing -- Jungkook leans in to lick a long, hot stripe up the length of Hoseok’s cock. Then he drags his tongue around the head, eyes locked onto Hoseok’s, and he moans when he finally takes Hoseok back into his mouth.
Hoseok hisses, and Namjoon imagines his toes curling in his expensive shoes, straining against the leather. “God, Jungkook, you’re so good at this.”
Jungkook doesn’t answer, just lowers his head and moans again. The car lurches around a corner just then, and Jungkook goes a little too far -- chokes and pulls back to cough, then goes right back down. Hoseok barely has time to react.
“He is good at this, isn’t he?” Namjoon agrees, still watching. His eyes drift down over Jungkook’s body, across his curved back, his thin waist, to where his pants are stretched tight over his ass and thighs.
Jungkook does something when he lowers himself again that has Hoseok hissing, craning his head back to rest against the seat. Namjoon watches the fingers in Jungkook’s hair tighten, not pulling, just holding on. Namjoon licks his lips.
“Can we rearrange?” he asks, reaching out to rest his palm on Jungkook’s ass, just to touch.
Jungkook hums and pulls off Hoseok’s cock, despite the noise of complaint from Hoseok. He glances over his shoulder, devilish grin on his lips. “How do you want me, RM?” he teases, and pushes back into Namjoon’s hand.
Namjoon grins back. “Come here,” he says, hooking his fingers around Jungkook’s hip and guiding him up.
The seats in the back of the limo are like benches, stretching the length of the car on one side, where Hoseok sits and Jungkook kneels between his legs, and curving around to the back where Namjoon sits, facing them and the front of the car. But despite the comfort, there’s not quite enough room on the floor for Namjoon to do what he wants.
So he tugs at Jungkook’s hips, and pulls him up until he’s settling himself on the soft leather seat between Hoseok and Namjoon.
“That’s much better,” Namjoon sighs, admiring the view of Jungkook stretched out in front of him like this. His head is still in Hoseok’s lap, but now he’s laying spread out, one leg curled under him and the other hanging off the seat, giving Namjoon the perfect view of the way his slacks hug his curves.
He wants to touch again, and doesn’t resist the urge. His hands are on Jungkook’s hips a moment later, sliding up his sides to feel the way his waist dips, then back down. He reaches underneath Jungkook, searching for the buckle of his belt, and Jungkook raises himself up to give Namjoon more room.
A few moments later, Namjoon is tugging Jungkook’s pants down. They’re tight, and there’s not much room in the car to move like this, but he manages to pull Jungkook’s slacks over his ass, partway down his thighs, and then he freezes when he sees what Jungkook’s wearing under his dressy slacks.. Namjoon stares for a long moment, then he whistles.
Jungkook glances over his shoulder, grinning back at Namjoon and shaking his ass. “Like it?” he asks.
“Love it,” Namjoon tells him, genuinely. He can’t tear his eyes away.
Jungkook’s wearing a jock strap -- there’s just an elastic band around his hips and the hint of two more around his thighs, barely visible where Namjoon’s pulled his slacks down just enough. He looks good, like a framed picture, dressed up nice just for them to see.
Namjoon drags his palms over the swell of Jungkook’s ass, admiring how pretty he looks with his back arched like this. Then digs his fingers in and squeezes. He pulls up and out, watches the way Jungkook’s flesh gives under his hands, and feels that rush he always has when he sees Jungkook like this, spread out and waiting for them.
“You always look so pretty for us,” he says, and drags one thumb down between Jungkook’s cheeks, over the little hole there. He’s waxed and pristine -- in preparation for this, because Jungkook knows how much Namjoon likes it. But then, Namjoon thinks as he leans down, Jungkook likes this plenty too.
Unlike Jungkook, Namjoon doesn’t tease. He just goes for it, presses his face between Jungkook’s cheeks and drags his tongue across his hole without a bit of preamble. Jungkook gasps, jerking underneath Namjoon’s touch.
“Fuck,” he curses, leaning into Hoseok’s thigh. “Warn a guy.”
Namjoon says nothing, just swirls his tongue around Jungkook’s rim and sucks. He feels Jungkook shudder under his hands, feels him press back against Namjoon’s touch, silently asking for more. Namjoon gives it to him, pressing his tongue in and squeezing the meat of his ass harder. There’s a small noise, a little gasping sigh, and Jungkook tilting forward to rest his cheek against Hoseok’s thigh while Namjoon tastes him -- the lube he used to prep himself before they arrived, and beneath it, the subtle taste of Jungkook’s favorite soap.
But the taste isn’t why Namjoon loves this. It’s the way Jungkook shivers when Namjoon touches just right. The way a small flick of his tongue can make Jungkook tremble, thighs shaking. It’s the way Jungkook sounds so sweet, broken gasps tumbling from his lips. It’s the power of knowing all the right ways to touch him after all the time they’ve spent together, and the thrill of using it.
When Namjoon finally pulls back to breathe, he can see Jungkook’s hand still holding Hoseok’s dick, but he’s stopped stroking. He’s stopped doing anything but pressing back onto Namjoon’s tongue, and now he’s laying still, panting against Hoseok’s thigh, just waiting for Namjoon to touch him again.
Namjoon grins, and leans down again to press another kiss to Jungkook. He wriggles back against Namjoon’s lips, and Namjoon rewards him with something more. He slides two fingers inside, hooks them down to press just where he knows Jungkook loves, and Jungkook whines.
That’s apparently the line for Hoseok. Even as Namjoon licks across Jungkook’s rim again, massages his fingers and strokes Jungkook from the inside, he hears Hoseok scoff, hears the leather seat creak as he shifts his body weight. They all know what comes next.
“You’re not done here, baby,” Hoseok scolds, hooking his fingers underneath Jungkook’s chin to tilt his head back. Jungkook follows, but when his eyes meet Hoseok’s they’re dazed, heavy-lidded. “Is Namjoon too good at that? Did he make you forget you have a job to do?”
Jungkook swallows, then shakes his head. “Sorry, sir,” he croaks, voice cracking.
Hoseok frowns at him. “Then you’d better make it up to me.” He pets Jungkook's hair, and when Jungkook nods his head and leans forward again, Hoseok smiles. "Good boy.”
Jungkook just whines. His eyes slip closed as he lowers his lips around Hoseok again, and he moans when Namjoon pushes his fingers in deeper.
"That's it," Hoseok tells him. "That's it."
All of Jungkook’s smug confidence is gone, replaced with a restless desperation. He moans around Hoseok’s cock, stroking the base as he bobs his head, flicks his tongue and pulls out all his tricks. But he’s distracted, sloppy now. He pushes back against Namjoon fingers, and then squeezes a bit too hard around Hoseok’s cock when Namjoon touches him just right.
Namjoon savors it, and he knows Hoseok does too. He loves this just as much as Jungkook’s practiced precision. Seeing him fall apart between the two of them, it’s something that never gets old.
“You’re so pretty like this,” Hoseok says, brushing Jungkook’s sweaty bangs from his forehead. The car turns around a corner, and Jungkook leans into the turn and into Hoseok’s hand. Hoseok smiles down at him, pleased. “So pretty.”
Namjoon can’t see Jungkook’s face, but he’s been in Hoseok’s position enough times to imagine it -- Jungkook’s wide, teary eyes, his flushed cheeks, his hair damp and sticking to his face, and his swollen lips stretched around Hoseok’s cock. He thrusts his fingers a little harder into Jungkook, and receives a muffled moan in reward.
Hoseok smiles sweetly down at Jungkook, fingertips slipping down to trace around Jungkook’s lips. “You’re gonna make me come, babe,” he sighs, and Jungkook moans again.
He speeds the movements of his hand, sucks a little harder, filling the car with sloppy, wet noises. And now, Hoseok’s joining in -- his breathing picks up, louder and faster, and his quiet grunts and gasps start coming out of time. It’s music to Namjoon’s ears. The desperation in the car builds along with the sounds, a tension in the air that tightens along with their muscles, straining for the end. Until --
“Fuck, babe, I’m coming, fuck --” Hoseok curses, and a second later, Jungkook is pulling back, staring up at Hoseok with his mouth open and his tongue hanging out. Hoseok curses again, replacing Jungkook’s hand on his cock with his own. He strokes fast and desperate, groans deep in his throat, and then Namjoon watches him bite his lip and come on Jungkook’s face.
Namjoon twists his fingers inside Jungkook, and Jungkook moans too, loud and clear with his mouth still hanging open. Hoseok lets out a long, heavy breath, letting his jaw fall open too as he keeps stroking himself through his orgasm. The car comes to a stop again, and Jungkook uses the momentum to lean closer to Hoseok, taking the tip of his cock back into his mouth so his next shots of come land on his tongue instead. From the sound he makes, Namjoon knows he hasn’t closed his lips around Hoseok -- giving Hoseok a perfect view of his come in Jungkook’s mouth.
Hoseok shudders, gives himself one last stroke, and then he collapses back against the seat, chest heaving, eyes never leaving Jungkook’s face. There’s a long moment of stillness, of heavy breathing. No one moves.
The car rolls forward again, and Jungkook wobbles a little before he picks himself up. Namjoon pulls his fingers from Jungkook, and he sits fully upright. He turns to look at Namjoon over his shoulder, and Namjoon can see what he was showing Hoseok -- his mouth open, tongue hanging out, and a pretty pool of Hoseok’s come on display. The corners of his lips quirk up in a smile, pleased with himself and whatever expression he sees on Namjoon’s face. Then he turns back to Hoseok and tilts his head, so Hoseok can see the apple of his throat bob when he swallows.
“You’re so hot,” Hoseok gasps out.
Jungkook just lowers his head, swallows one more time for show, and grins. “I know,” he says.
Hoseok laughs. “You brat,” he teases. “So sure of yourself. But you’re only halfway done, aren’t you?” His eyes flick up to meet Namjoon’s over Jungkook’s body, and Namjoon can see the way Hoseok’s eyes darken again -- he’s looking forward to what comes next just as much as Namjoon. Maybe as much as Jungkook, from the way Jungkook shudders at those words, grin dropping from his face and jaw falling open.
“Aw, he wants it,” Hoseok coos, eyes dropping back to Jungkook’s face. He holds out his arms. “Come here, baby.”
Jungkook crawls towards him, lips still parted, eyes hungry. He leans towards Hoseok, and for a breathless second, Namjoon thinks he’s going to try for a kiss. But he seems to catch himself, and turns around to settle with his back against Hoseok’s chest, head resting on Hoseok’s shoulder.
The picture they make is a little awkward -- Jungkook is so much broader than Hoseok. But the way Hoseok’s arms wrap around Jungkook’s chest, the way he tilts his head to rest his cheek against Jungkook’s hair and squeezes him tight, the way they both look up at Namjoon, between Jungkook’s legs -- it’s a lot to take in. And maybe it has Namjoon holding his breath as he moves closer. When he reaches out to run a hand over Jungkook’s thigh, his touch is almost reverent.
He feels something lurch in his chest that has nothing to do with the moving car they’re in -- he swallows it down so he can speak. “These are still in the way,” he says, and imagines that his voice is rough from arousal, and nothing else.
Jungkook grins up at him. “Do something about it, then,” he teases, and lifts his legs to make it easier for Namjoon to tug his slacks the rest of the way off.
Namjoon doesn’t scold him for that, just does what they both want and pulls his pants down, tossing them somewhere beside him on the floor. When he looks down at Jungkook again -- legs still spread, hard cock trapped beneath his underwear, and the elastic of the straps digging into his thighs -- he thinks he could come just like this, jerking himself off staring down at Jungkook.
He doesn’t really want that, though. He wants what he always wants: to feel Jungkook surrounding him, those strong thighs wrapped around his hips, the way his body trembles with each thrust.
He forces himself to look away from Jungkook, and down at his own pants as he undoes his pants. He leaves them on, just undoes the fly and pulls his cock free, but just that small touch has him wincing -- the first attention his dick has gotten this whole drive. Then he cranes his neck and spits on his own dick, strokes himself to smear it across his skin.
Their gazes burn into him, and when he looks up, he sees both Hoseok and Jungkook watching him with rapt attention.
“You ready for it?” he asks even as he shifts closer, lining himself up between Jungkook’s legs. He looks down again before either of them can answer, rubs the head of his dick against Jungkook’s hole -- more to tease himself than to tease Jungkook. But he only pushes forward when he hears Jungkook whine, and feels him tighten his legs around Namjoon’s hips to pull him closer.
He hears Jungkook suck in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t look away -- Namjoon wants to watch every moment as he sinks into Jungkook. The feeling is overwhelming, warm and tight, but the sight of it is what really sets Namjoon off. The way Jungkook’s body stretches around him, slowly gives to take him deeper and deeper. Namjoon will never get tired of watching it.
Each thrust is slow, pushing in just a bit further each time, until he’s finally fully seated, hips flush against Jungkook’s, and Jungkook is panting already.
“Fuck,” Jungkook curses, arching his body and tossing his head back against Hoseok’s shoulder. “You’re so big,” he sighs, eyes squeezed shut. “Every time, I --”
“You take it so well every time,” Namjoon tells him, dragging his fingers over Jungkook’s chest, over the tense muscles of his stomach, hooking into the waistband of Jungkook’s jock strap.
Jungkook shudders at the touch, but he relaxes a bit, even tilts his hips up to take Namjoon deeper, to press into Namjoon’s hand. He’s hard under the thin fabric, and Namjoon can see a wet spot near his head. He grins, but he’s careful not to touch. Jungkook will have to wait for that.
Instead, he rocks his hips forward, making Jungkook spread his legs wider. He curses under his breath again, and Namjoon savors it, and the way he digs his fingertips into the leather of the seat beneath him.
Namjoon starts a slow rhythm, shallow thrusts that keep him deep inside. Jungkook tosses his head, letting out soft noises with every movement Namjoon makes. He sounds so pretty, Namjoon just wants to lean down and --
The limo hits a stop a little harder than usual, and the three of them rock together. The sudden movement causes Namjoon to thrust a little deeper, grinding into Jungkook instead, and the sound Jungkook makes then is worth the awkward shift off-balance. It’s higher, fast and cut off like it was ripped out of him, and Namjoon wants to hear it again.
He moves with the motion of the car when it starts again, letting it rock him into Jungkook, and then speeds up his pace. He hits harder, fucking Jungkook into Hoseok’s arms, until Jungkook is scrambling for something to hold onto, tossing his arms out at his sides and writhing in Hoseok’s lap.
“You’re so good,” Namjoon tells him, his own grip tightening on Jungkook’s hips. A glance out the window tells him they don’t have much of the drive left, but Namjoon isn’t going to last much longer either way. Not with the way Jungkook is moving, the way he pushes back into each of Namjoon’s thrusts.
Jungkook whines between them, writhing where he’s splayed out on the leather seats. His dress clothes are wrinkled and sticking to his sweaty skin, and it only adds to the pretty picture he makes. Namjoon wishes he could take a picture, save it for later when he and Hoseok are alone and missing Jungkook again. He wants to save every moment so he can keep this, even when their arrangement is over.
He can see it in Hoseok too, in the delicate way Hoseok traces his fingertips over Jungkook’s lower lip. Jungkook drops his jaw obediently, letting his eyes slip closed and turning his head towards Hoseok’s hand. He’s so responsive, Namjoon thinks. He knows he’ll never get tired of watching Jungkook like this.
When Hoseok presses his fingers inside, Jungkook closes his lips around them and moans. His eyes slide closed and his cheeks hollow, and the sight of it sends a thrill straight through Namjoon’s stomach. His thrusts falter, falling out of rhythm, and suddenly his orgasm is right there.
“Jungkook,” he gasps, leans forward over his body until he’s resting his sweaty forehead against Jungkook’s, breathing the same hot, sticky air. Jungkook reaches up like he wants to thread his fingers through Namjoon’s hair, but he seems to remember himself at the last second -- he can’t touch like that, can’t mess up Namjoon’s styled hair any more than it already is. He drops his hand to his side and digs his nails into his own thigh instead.
Namjoon gasps out a breath against Jungkook’s lips, against Hoseok’s knuckles, and then he’s coming. He squeezes his eyes shut, hips rolling with small, broken thrusts, coming as deep as he can into Jungkook’s body. And Jungkook just takes it, like he always does. He sighs along with Namjoon like it’s giving him pleasure too, and Namjoon lets himself think that maybe it’s true.
When it ends, he falls forward, a heavy weight resting against Jungkook, breathing hot on his neck. Jungkook doesn’t complain, just reaches up to pet along Namjoon’s back until his breathing calms. No one speaks until Namjoon finally moves, sitting upright again and brushing his sweaty bangs back away from his face, trying to save his styled hair.
He looks down at the two of them, where Hoseok holds Jungkook close to him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other still caressing his face, wiping the spit from his lips. There’s a fondness in his chest, a spreading warmth. They look so good, and they look like this for him.
“You did so well, babe,” Hoseok coos in Jungkook’s ear. “Made RM feel so good, didn’t you?”
Jungkook whines, rolling his head to the side so he can look up at Namjoon, still kneeling between his legs.
“You deserve something too, right?” Hoseok continues. He reaches around Jungkook’s middle to slide one palm down Jungkook’s stomach. Namjoon watches enraptured as Jungkook’s cut muscles flutter under his touch. Until Hoseok slides his hand under the waistband of his underwear and wraps his fingers around Jungkook’s cock, and every muscle in his body tenses.
“He does,” Namjoon agrees, and reaches down between Jungkook’s legs. He presses his fingers back inside, feeling how wet he is -- from Namjoon’s own come, he thinks with a rush.
Jungkook’s whole body goes slack when they touch him. He gasps as Hoseok strokes him, hand moving so slow, just to tease a little longer. Hoseok rubs his palm across the head of Jungkook’s dick and Jungkook hisses, arching up into it, moving against Namjoon’s fingers too. Namjoon presses deeper then, curling his fingers up to massage in gentle circles, and Jungkook lets out a long, shaking breath.
“Feeling good?” he asks, leaning closer. He wants to see it, all the small ways Jungkook falls apart between the two of them.
Jungkook nods a little desperately, grinding his hips down into Namjoon’s hand and then up into Hoseok’s. The three of them have settled into a rhythm now, touching and being touched. Jungkook’s noises grow louder and louder again, Namjoon and Hoseok playing him like an instrument.
Namjoon shifts his angle, and suddenly Jungkook’s eyes fly open. They dart around the ceiling of the limo, until they finally settle, locking onto Namjoon’s eyes. Namjoon feels that hit him in the chest, the way Jungkook’s wild eyes fix on him, like he’s some kind of grounding to latch onto. He leans in further, drawn into Jungkook like a moth to a flame, and he can’t look away either. They’re a breath away, so close that Namjoon could just tilt his head and --
His eyes flick down to Jungkook’s lips, still red and swollen, shiny with spit and parted around his heavy breaths. He wants it, so badly, and when he looks back up at Jungkook, he tells himself that Jungkook wants it too.
“Hyung,” Jungkook starts, and Namjoon thinks he knows what Jungkook is going to ask. He knows what his answer will be. He braces himself, leaning forward even closer, twisting his fingers to thrust deeper into Jungkook because he wants to make Jungkook feel so good, as good as he makes Namjoon feel. “Hyung,” he gasps again, and Namjoon can almost hear his next words -- but then the moment is shattered.
His whole body tenses, breath catching in his throat -- then he’s coming all over his shirt. He gasps for air, deep heavy breaths that leave his chest heaving, and still, Hoseok and Namjoon keep touching him, stroking and guiding him through it. They touch him until he stops coming, until he squirms away from them and whines at how sensitive he is. Only then do they let him go, pull their hands away and let him catch his breath.
Namjoon pulls his fingers out, slowly and carefully while Jungkook is still coming down. They’re wet with come and lube, and he doesn’t think about it before he wipes them on Jungkook’s shirt -- it’s already wrinkled and wet with sweat and come, a little more won’t hurt much.
He looks up at catches Jungkook’s gaze, staring up at him with hooded eyes, still breathing hard with his lips parted. His face is flushed and his lips are swollen, his sweaty hair brushed haphazardly from his face. He looks the picture of debauchery, and Namjoon loves it. He wishes again, and not for the last time, that he could take a photo to save for later. But he knows without asking that Jungkook would never say yes -- what happens between them is only for places like this, locked within the tinted windows and locked doors of this car.
As if on cue, the limo pulls to a stop, jolting them all a little where they sit. When Namjoon glances out the window, he can see they’re parked in the garage beneath the company building -- there’s other limos here, and other people dressed in clothes that cost more than even Namjoon makes in a year. He snorts at them, but knows they’re exactly who he’ll be sucking up to in a few minutes.
When Namjoon looks back at Hoseok, he sees that Hoseok’s already fixed his clothes, dabbed the sweat from his face with a tissue from a box beneath the bar, and straightened his hair. Looking at him now, Namjoon wouldn’t be able to tell he’d gotten blown on the drive here if he hadn’t seen it himself.
Namjoon pulls out a tissue and dabs at his own face, trying to clean as much of his sweat as he can without messing his hair or makeup any more. His shirt is damp and sticking to his skin, but his jacket feels dry and he’s counting on that covering him, at least until his shirt dries. From the corner of his eye, he sees Jungkook sitting up, reaching for his slacks to pull them on again. Namjoon doesn’t watch, as much as he wants to. They don’t have much time left.
“How do I look, Hoseok?” Namjoon asks, straightening his suit jacket.
Hoseok gives him a once over, then reaches out to brush a few stray hairs from his face. “Good,” he says with a smile. “Not like you just got fucked in the limo on the way here.”
Jungkook huffs a laugh beside them, and Namjoon just smiles. “Perfect, that’s all I was going for.”
Hoseok inches toward the door, and Namjoon follows, but they pause before they leave. Namjoon glances over his shoulder, and sees that Jungkook has shifted further down the seat -- away from the door, where someone won’t accidentally spot him.
He’s smiling at them, but Namjoon can tell it’s different. His own partition rolled up now that their time together is almost over. Namjoon doesn’t like it.
Namjoon moves further into the limo, closer to Jungkook, so he can lean in to kiss him on the lips, and Hoseok follows suit a moment later.
“See you at the after-party, babe,” Hoseok tells him, and plants another quick kiss on his cheek. Namjoon squeezes his hand.
“I’ll be there,” Jungkook tells him with a grin.
Hoseok turns to open the door, and the two of them step out of the car. Namjoon doesn’t look back.