Chapter Text
V.
Everyone was so quick to bully Jisung for his little blunder.
Well… bully might be too negative of a word.
How about heckling?
Still a bit too harsh…
How about, an embarrassing amount of spazzing and dad-level proudness when everyone found out how the baby of the group has finally flowered. (Blame the odd choice of word on Jeno who’d just finished marathoning all 8 seasons of Game of Thrones in a week.)
“You’ve flowered!!” Mark mimicked Jeno’s archaic vocabulary and congratulated the red-as-a-beet Jisung, patting his back so harshly the kid began to choke.
Oh, also, they did all this mess of congratulating Jisung for something that he must’ve dread with all his heart (i.e., getting caught masturbating) while still in a state of being semi undressed. Imagine his confusion. Embarrassment, melding in with an odd sense of arousal. The exact same feeling that Renjun’s been experiencing for the last few months but amped to the nth degree.
Jisung looked like he was nearly in tears from being so overwhelmed and Renjun started to feel bad.
He’d been hanging at the back, finding it unnecessary to go over and give the kid an over the top congratulation. But after seeing how Jisung had started to sniffle out his suffocating anxiety from the way that his friends were treating him (because yes, the root of it all was positive. But the execution was anything but), Renjun decided to take a more active role in taming this insanity.
“Stop bullying the child,” he tutted, dispersing the small group of people that were crowding around Jisung with necessary shoves on shoulders and face, if the person was too insistent on not moving (cough, Donghyuk, cough).
Renjun has just solved perhaps half of his problem and yet, Jisung looked at him like he was seeing a ghost. Honestly, with how disheveled he looked (comparable to those people who would find themselves passing out on a subway bench from drinking one too many bottles of alcohol), he couldn’t really fault Jisung for doing so.
“H,– hyung, I’m,–”
Renjun hand waved his stuttering with a chuckle, “oh, come on. You haven’t called me hyung since ten thousand years ago. Don’t start now.”
They were the only people left in the metaphorical ring. He had to thank Jaemin for that, this partner in crime of his, for helping him in clearing out the pit by holding back everyone else. They shared a brief, knowing nod, capped by a fleeting wink given to him by Jaemin as a way to encourage him to take center stage. On the stage that was Chenle’s mom’s very expensive Persian rug. Him and Jisung, trapped in a tardy game of cat and mouse where the mouse is severely wounded and the cat was only toying with it.
Jisung looked at him with confusion in his eyes. Should I be afraid? He must be thinking. Should I run away?
But then Renjun gave him a crooked smile. Something that teetered dangerously between being kind, and being pants-wettingly crazy.
Jisung’s eyes glinted, then. His breathing caught at the back of his throat, and his lips began to tremble. Surely, because he was conflicted in finding the right words that would fit with how he was feeling then. Stop didn’t sound right. Don’t didn’t sound right either. But he still had too much pride to accept Renjun’s advancement that he was stunned into silence.
Should I run to him?
Feeling, again, merciful, Renjun took the burden of having to decide from Jisung’s shaking fingers and draped it on himself with much glee.
He pounced on Jisung. Usually, such behaviour wouldn’t even make a scratch on the younger’s demeanor, what with him being a complete head taller than Renjun and what not.
But on that night, Renjun (finally) managed to bring him down. Toppled over onto the floor like a house of cards in the middle of a wind storm. Effortless. Meant to be.
“Don’t say anything,” he whispered. Renjun gently tucked away the messy bangs that would’ve obscured the way Jisung was looking at him. Looking at them. Everyone, who now joined Jaemin as spectators to things that were about to unfold beyond their eyes.
A feast. A delicious feast.
No one wanted to miss even a single bite out of it.
Not even the centerpiece himself.
“Let me make you feel good, alright?”
(Oh, did I tell you that Renjun stepped up to save Jisung?
Because he didn’t. He never planned for such a thing.
He’s too selfish for that.)
(Renjun only wished to ease Jisung into this lifestyle that yes, he himself was a stranger up till a few seconds ago, but has treated him so deliciously he wanted Jisung’s induction to be the most comfortable.)
He fiddled with the waistband of Jisung’s sweats, grinning when he felt the firmness straining valiantly against the comfy material. Renjun gave his nose a playful boop when Jisung responded to his teasing squeezes with a guilty frown.
“I’m sorry,– I didn’t mean to,–”
“This?” Renjun asked, nonchalantly pulling his pants down his thighs so that there was one less layer that separated Jisung from the promise of a great time, “I would actually be more offended if you don’t have a raging boner by this point.”
Renjun was just about to rid him of his underwear when Jisung stopped him in his tracks. He gripped Renjun tight around his wrists, whose fingers had begun to form hooks around the hem of his pesky boxer.
“They are watching,” he hissed. His voice was reduced to nothing more but a thin whistle, like the start of a boiling kettle. He also looked as if he was going to boil over. Scrunched nose, red rimmed eyes. Renjun wondered, did he also look like this at the start?
If so, he understood why Jaemin didn’t stop pushing him until he was at his very limit, kept on going until everything fell apart around them by the seams.
Because it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. Renjun wanted to do nothing more but to hold him closer. To be held by Jisung while everyone else watches. The very pinnacle of their lifelong bond.
“As you watched us,” Renjun reminded him. When Jisung reacted to it even more negatively by blubbering out a string of near intelligible apologies, Renjun reassured him with a little laugh, “we didn’t hate it, Jisung. We’re not mad at you for doing what you did. Do you understand that?”
Jisung blinked at him a few times and Renjun could see the gears turning inside his head. His eyes then shifted around. From Renjun’s face, to the congregation of spectators that were piled on Chenle’s sofa, awaiting the start of the show with bated breath, then back to him again.
“So, this is not a punishment?” He hushed.
Renjun laughed at that. “No!” He said as he gave Jisung’s cheek a calming stroke. His fingers made a wide arc around his face, caressing the edges, smiling when the younger shuddered as his nails tickled the shell of his ears, before stopping at the tip of his shapely chin. Renjun pinched it, softly, of course, and tilted it upward, just a little bit. Just enough that it exposed the beautiful, uniform skin of Jisung’s neck that wouldn’t stay uniform for that much longer.
“Never, dear. We’ll never punish you.”
He ran his thumb over the enticing natural pout of Jisung’s lower lip. It must’ve been such a foreign sensation for the younger, that he shuddered from that alone. The adorable, defeated whine that subsequently slipped out of his plump, chapped lips sounded so wonderful that Renjun just had to help himself for the first bite.
Jisung tensed under his kiss, and the way he scrunched his eyes so tightly shut was absolutely adorable.
He even flinched, when Renjun finally pulled his underwear just that little bit lower and got ahold of his very easily excitable length. Going from half firm to completely rigid with just a gentle thrumming of his fingers.
Renjun gave their spectators a faux-annoyed shrug. ‘Youth, am I right?’
He motioned at Donghyuk to throw him the lube that was lying in one of the sofa’s ditches and was lucky enough to execute a cool maneuver of catching the thing with only his left hand.
Jisung was looking up at him in awe. Renjun fully suspected that he wouldn’t have been doing so if the tube had hit him squarely on the face.
But as it didn’t, Renjun easily rode on the wave of coolness and gave the boy a quick wink, “do you want me to take off your pants?”
Jisung furiously shook his head at that. “I’d like to keep it on please.”
“You sure?” Renjun cooed, drawing out his teasing kisses on the cut of Jisung’s jaw until he heard another one of those thin, reluctant sighs from his bitten lips, “it’ll get dirty, you know?”
As if to demonstrate, Renjun deliberately dropped a few dollops of lube onto Jisung’s sweatpants. Spreading around the slick, sticky substance all around its waistband while his fingers were languidly giving the younger’s upper thighs some teasing massages.
Jisung frowned, deep in contemplation. The way his hips jerked when Renjun’s fingertips grazed against his pubes made it seem as if he was about to give in to Renjun’s temptation. But then he was reminded of the exhebitionist nature of his situation when Jeno suddenly gave out one of his dad-sneezes and Jisung wilted away once more.
“That’s ok,” he pleaded in a whisper, “please don’t take it off.”
“Alright,” was Renjun’s response (only given after he finished giving Jeno a death glare, of course). In a gentle fashion that was maybe too gentle that it bordered on being cruel, Renjun wrapped his fingers around the base of Jisung’s dick. He gave it a slow stroke, using the stillness of the air as a pace for how he treated it because the last thing he wanted was to excite Jisung too much, or to accidentally cut their game short by losing the constraint he had around the terrible need to ruin Jisung beyond all comprehension.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was a damn difficult task.
Because he was so sensitive. So easily made to flinch and gasp and whine and sob with nothing more but a measly, slow-tempo stroking of his slicked cock.
His back arched minutely when Renjun rubbed his tip with his thumb. His fingers were lodged deeply into the forest of his curly hair when Renjun pressed his index fingers, firmer than whatever he did before, on his way down its length, dragging with it a trail of freshly squeezed lube and precome that dribbled freely from its slit. And Jisung moaned, finally, when Renjun gave his cock a quick servicing with his mouth. A lick up, a quick suck, and a little kiss.
Just that, and he moaned. Distorted and muffled by his palms that pressed tightly over his mouth, yes, but still so clear and so undeniably aroused that it enacted similar noises from the direction of the spectator bench.
The air was charged with so much potential, as if a little spark was all it would take for lightning to strike.
And so he struck the first match to get it going.
“Kiddo?” Renjun whispered as he gave Jisung’s blushing ears a soft nibble, “is it okay if everyone comes a little bit closer?”
Renjun heard another groan coming from the direction of the sofa, and he had to raise his hand in a silent gesture that screamed the word ‘wait’.
A spark is a spark. But do it uncaringly and he could accidentally create an uncontrollable forest fire that would burn everything down to the ground. Dead, severed, and no longer recognisable. Something he couldn’t risk when it comes to his relationship with and the personal comfort of Jisung himself.
Jisung hesitated for a little while. Only the while it took for Renjun to run his hands underneath his chest, enveloping him in a warm hug that felt both comforting and erotic all at the same time.
Just as Renjun had finished completely pressing their bodies together. Arms, chest, stomach, legs, tangling between and around each other’s, Jisung gave out his answer in a whisper. Soft, but very, very sure.
“Yes.”
Renjun believed that that one worded answer was enough fuel to prompt the rest of the gang to enter the warp zone. Because soon enough, Renjun felt hands on his shoulders. Fingers coiling tight around his waist, and on Jisung’s too.
At that sensation, he flinched, and immediately clung to Renjun in his panicked state. “You didn’t say they’re going to touch me,” he whispered, seemingly when he felt hands caressing him up the length of his legs because Renjun felt them widening underneath his weight, and Jisung wouldn’t have done so unprompted.
“Do you want them to stop?” Renjun probed, soothing him with fingers raking along his hairline to smooth out the flyaway hairs that were sticking to his damp forehead. The rest of the gang must’ve heard his words, as their movements were immediately halted. “I can tell them to stop if this is too much for you.”
He did so because a. Renjun is not as cruel as Jaemin and b. He knows what answer Jisung would tell him and so a little bit of kindness as a mean to coax it out of his rosy lips was just decadence on his part.
Still, it must’ve been difficult for him to admit. His face bloomed into a shade of deep red, and he bit his lips so hard it took them quite a while to return to its rosy colour after he let them go from the cage of his teeth.
“I don’t mind them,” he finally said. Right on time too, as Chenle suddenly popped up over his face to give his nose a quick peck. Jisung’s words were riddled with a light giggle when he spoke next. “I don’t mind you.”
“What about me?? Do you mind me?” Jeno asked from the other side, while busy continuing to try and pull off the socks from Jisung’s feet.
“I don’t mind anyone!” Jisung exclaimed out loud in a revelatory moment worthy of the history books. This jittery kid, always awkward and anxious, for him to be able to look at Renjun who was straddling him half naked with bright eyes and an equally bright smile?
It was a sexual miracle.
“Alright. Buckle up, kiddo,” Renjun exclaimed with a grin. He gave Jisung a joyful kiss as a way to reward him for managing to crack through his nervous shell before pushing himself away from the kid, returning to his previous position in which he was straddling Jisung’s lap. He felt something twitch underneath the heat of his core when he inadvertently had to wiggle himself around to find the perfect starting position. When he looked up at Jisung for some… well, confirmation, the kid was busy trying to hide his blushing face from the assault of kisses that Chenle and Mark were raining down on him. Their gazes met, though, for a brief moment in between the curtain of his fingers.
Thankfully, that was more than enough of a moment to get a very simple, very clear message across.
It’s going to be a wild ride ahead.
_
When Jisung first entered him, it happened oh so easily that when they had to stop, it was because Renjun didn’t want the youngster to finish too early.
“You’re so sensitive.” Jaemin hummed from his post at the other end of the scene. He was helping Renjun out by pinning Jisung’s wrists up and over his head so he would be forced to stop using his palms to cover his pretty face at the slightest of embarrassments. “This couldn’t be your first time, right?”
Renjun would’ve believed if Jisung were to say of course not. Because the guy’s hot, alright? He might be the personification of anxiety itself, but it wasn’t hard to imagine him in any sexual situation because mans yes hot.
Which was why, when Jisung gave his answer in a form of flustered, embarrassed, jittery and blushy silence, everyone (regardless of how far they were at getting busy with their respective partners) was riddled with the strong case of the awwwwww!!!
“So I’m your first?” Renjun cooed, delving down on him with a rain of pecks on his cheeks and temple and only stopping when Jisung let out a childish whine of annoyance. He giggled at that. “I hope you won’t regret it.” Renjun said it mainly as a joke. Mainly, as a way to alleviate whatever tension was cultivated from being in such a momentous moment that yes, shouldn’t have been that big of a deal in the first place, but still…
Behind every joke, there’s always that little bit of truth, right?
Jisung, the sweet boy that he is, seemed to notice the truth.
Because he then tilted his head to the side, just enough that he could then capture the corner of Renjun’s lips in a quick peck of his own. From the way he looked at Renjun when their gazes finally aligned, he could tell that if he had any control of the movements of his arms, Jisung would’ve held him then. He would’ve put his palms over Renjun’s cheek as he reassured his best friend with an answer to end all answers.
But, as Jaemin still had them firmly under his grips, Jisung had to be content with just a little, warm smile on his lips. Not that that was anymore less than whatever was described earlier, mind you.
“Never,” he said. In such gentleness that even Jaemin melted to a pile of metaphorical goo because of that.
Jisung, in a much awaited moment of breakthrough, utilised the slackening of Jaemin’s fingers and finally took control of his situation by flipping it right side up. Literally. When he, in turn, gripped Renjun by his waist and glued him to the carpet, instead of the other way around.
Renjun wanted to praise him for his take-charge attitude, maybe coddle him a little bit and share a friendly giggle, or something cute like that. But words, or maybe more aptly, his sanity, was thrown out of the window when the realisation that their little darling Park Jisung was driving himself, pleasuring himself deep within his core, hit Renjun right on his funny bone.
Renjun’s resolve to look in control in the eyes of Jisung took a heavy beating with each of his clumsy movements. Clumsy, yet earnest. As no matter how hard he tried to act tough, Jisung, at the end of the day, was always going to be the sweetest.
Jisung was so sweet, in fact, that he even took the time to pause in the middle of their, for the lack of better word, fucking, to ask if Renjun was alright.
“Am I hurting you?” His exact wordings, delivered in a trembling hush that teetered on the edge of being a sensual sigh but not yet so.
Renjun smiled at that, bright and proud if not a little doozy. He gave the boy a giddy peck on his forehead before he arched his body, angling his hips in such a way that he could then take even more of Jisung’s length into him. “I’m easy,” he moaned when he managed to sheath Jisung completely down to his hilt. The sound melded together with Jisung’s low groans when Renjun began to move, essentially fucking himself on the length as a way to terribly hint at Jisung that he’s allowed to take him all that more roughly. “I’m so easy, kiddo. Just focus on feeling good, alright?”
As if vultures summoned in by a pile of rancid meat (that’s an unfortunate metaphor…) As if moths that were drawn in by a roaring bonfire, the rest of the gang converged on them, ready to assist with their handy fingers and greedy mouths.
Jisung yelped when a hand gripped him tight around his waist, but he didn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop moving, in fact, despite the sudden intrusion because as it turns out, that intrusion was helping him by way of guiding his movements into something more precise. A little less desperate and a bit more focused, to be exact.
For Renjun, trapped underneath it all as a test socket that would audibly signal if the new set of movements and angles are a resounding hit, the little experiment felt insanely good. Having his pleasure points pounded on, gyrated against in an array of wild and unpredictable ways? Unprecedented.
But still, he gave those mysterious hands a hasty slap as he huffed (with much struggle), “let him find his own style.”
“But… but I want,– I want you to feel good too.” Jisung stuttered, blindly reaching back in hopes of regaining his hold on his very own sexual encounter training wheel. It was swiftly denied when the culprit(s) put his search to a stop with a peck on either side of his cheeks.
“I guess you have your point,” Donghyuk purred, trailing his fingers through the purplish, blushy splotches that stained the sides of Renjun’s neck. “It’ll be confusing if everyone here fucks the same way, huh?” It pulled a frustrated whine out of him, which was quickly reciprocated by something similar coming from Jisung himself, as another set of fingers mimicked Donghyuk’s journey with their own.
“Besides, as this hyung said himself, he’s easy.” Jaemin, the devil in flesh, creeped up behind Jisung’s right shoulder and gave the pristine skin its first marking. A dusty red splotch courtesy to his efficient nibbling.
“Why are you appropriating my words,–“
“Fuck him anyway you want, kid.” Jaemin cut Renjun right on his bud, petrified him to an expression of sheer horror when he took both his and Jisung’s palm to curl tightly around his erection. “He will come for you no matter what you do.” Trained fingers acting as guide to the trembling set as they both stroked him to full firmness for the third time in a span of less than two hours.
To say that he was oversensitive was an understatement. Electricity itself ran through his veins, burning it to a point of no return when with just a little push, Jisung fully understood the situation they were in, internalised the roles that each of them were given on that particular night, the extent of Renjun’s shameful existence, and used it to both their benefits.
As they say, be careful what you wish for. Because god dammit did Jisung take charge. He snapped his hips forward and pinned Renjun’s hips onto the surface of the carpet, before he then proceeded to ensure that Renjun would walk out of this encounter with a friction burn on his ass.
It didn’t take long for things to thicken. The air around them, their movements, the noises… Jisung’s groans, growing more and more strained and desperate as the clock ticks closer to dawn, echoed so near to Renjun’s ears that it vibrated his slacked arms back to life. He looped it around Jisung’s back, somehow then naked from all the tearing and groping of the phantom hands, and pulled him closer into a tight hug.
“You can do it,” he whispered, with much struggle, “don’t hold back. It’s okay.”
“But,–” Jisung sounded like he had something lodged at the back of his throat when he spoke next. The terribly dire need to come, perhaps? He managed to cough it out before he continued on his chivalrous reasoning, though. “But you haven’t… I haven’t made you,–”
Renjun gave out a tiny laugh before he locked Jisung in to him with an easy loop of his legs. “Don’t worry about that too much,“ he said, pressing his heels onto the back of Jisung’s thigh, leaving him not much freedom of movement except of going forward, “you’ll have plenty of chances to do so later, kiddo.”
The simple admittance, the little permission given by Renjun for Jisung to stop struggling and just enjoy himself on his first sexual experience seemed to be what he really needed to hear. As it didn’t take long afterwards for him to start unravelling by his seams. He buried his face deep within the nook of Renjun’s neck, breath hitching into a fever pitch as his movements grew into a bright crescendo that peaked with the sweet sound of his moans.
It was a beautiful experience. His touches, his warmth, his voice, his cock, still firm and twitching excitedly inside him long after it’d spilled its fill, all beautiful. Which was why Renjun didn’t understand why Jisung was apologising through all that.
“Hey, hey, look at me,” Renjun hushed at him, cradling his flushed face and focusing Jisung’s drunken gaze by giving his cheek a series of quick, soft pats. “You did well. You did well, Jisung.”
“Really?” He asked, grinning and frowning and intoxicated by all the good chemicals that he must now be drowning neck deep in. “Did you have a great time with me?”
Renjun was just about to answer with an affirmative when Jisung was pulled unceremoniously away from him. The robbery was accompanied by giggles (courtesy to the culprit), protesting whines (courtesy of Renjun and Jisung), and a lewd popping noise that were so bright it almost sounded comical (courtesy to when they finally got disconnected).
Renjun was just about to chide Donghyuk (the culprit. Of course) for being so inconsiderate with his partner-sharing-etiquettes, when he was also quickly pulled in the opposite direction and instantly plunged into another scene of his own.
The clock ticked away, and the sky grew lighter.
Chenle’s mom’s rug has seen better days, that was clear. But, isn’t being covered by naked skin that dripped sweat onto its firm bristles a better way to serve your years than to be trampled under dusty soles of indoor slippers?
Renjun’s fingernails dug between the tightly packed column of the rug’s woolen strands as he was being ridden by… by whoever wished to do him at that moment. Forgive him, he’s lost count through the haze of riding, being ridden, sucking, and being sucked. Perhaps all, at the same time.
He was being pulled around the space, like a poseable sex doll that everyone can use at their heart’s content. But then, also, sometimes, he was able to pull people on top of him, over him, causing things to meld together into a nebulous cloud of intense arousal and intimacy so thick that words, terms, that he usually would find so hard to admit, flowed easily out of him with just the merest of prompting.
Mark (of course), was the one who opened the dam to a whole cache of love bombs. The fact that at that moment he had three people pleasing him to the tiniest turns of his whims might lend a hand to the fact, but Renjun digressed.
“Don’t stop, love,” he would mutter. “Love you, love you so much, baby, that was fucking magical.” And everyone else quickly picked up on that. Noticing right away how natural the word felt around their lips. How much sweeter their kisses felt when the others sighed into it as the others rained down the proof of their love in something much more tangible than just countless acts of kindness.
It also served as somewhat of a buffer to Renjun’s thinning psyche, preventing it from snapping raw from how often he was yanked upward and forced to fall in increasing intensity. The precious breather moments between peaks of sexual releases was abraded to nearly nothing as Renjun was kept on a high state of arousal throughout, only prevented from completely frying off the synapses to his brain by the occasional gentle brushes of someone’s hand caressing his dampened face, or kind whispering that shushed him down from the terrifying heights that he’d been allowed to fly to.
(Because if he passed out then the fun stops, right?) (Although the idea of still being fucked past his loss of consciousness was a filthy thought that he couldn’t stop shuddering over.)
If he hadn’t experienced it himself, Renjun would’ve thought the concept of coming for more than five times in less than two hours is impossible. And yet, there he was. Having his third, eye-rolling-ly intense dry orgasm to the forceful coaxing of whoever’s fingers that found their way inside his scorched hole.
(That one time, it was Jisung’s.
The smile on his face after he’d successfully paid his dues and made Renjun come with his hands was so brightly triumphant that in the brief moment of clarity where the blinding fog of arousal parted from beyond his eyes, Renjun managed to hone in on him with a hug. “That was wonderful, baby,” he hoarsely whispered as he gave the younger’s hair a prideful ruffle.)
His brain had gone to such an unprecedented space of sexual fugue that it took Renjun a few moments to realise that, for the first time in nearly half an hour or so, he was alone on the floor.
Not propped up on top of Jeno’s lap, not lying sideways sandwiched by Donghyuk and Chenle, nothing.
Just him, on his back, on the plush surface of the carpet, panting.
Panting?
Renjun was so far gone that his bodily response was the one to rouse his brain from the mini slumber he just fell into. Pleasure rolled through him for the umpteenth amount that night yet it was different.
Different enough that it bothered Renjun to open his heavy eyes to investigate.
Jaemin.
Jaemin was moving over him, within him, for the first time that night.
He took a laborious peek onto the spot where they were connected and the sight, lewd from how raw the skin of his nether region had become yet still, very oddly intimate at the same time, managed to pull another hoarse moan from Renjun’s utterly violated neck.
“Sorry, love.” There it is again, “I guess my pride tells me I have to be the one to close your show.”
“We can do… tomorrow,–“ he groaned, words jumbling up with many pieces missing as Renjun was busy trying to push Jaemin away from him. It was a pitiful effort. So easily extinguished with a hand that didn’t even have to try to pin Renjun’s wrists up and away from their measly pittering on Jaemin’s chest.
“It’s already tomorrow,” Jaemin whispered, as he ground himself deep and so terribly precise within his oversensitive hole.
Renjun didn’t know what else he could give to Jaemin in return. His voice was spent. His tears had dried up. His body couldn’t even reciprocate on Jaemin’s considerably tame movements, only able to lie there powerless and limp, occasionally twitching out of voluntary control when Jaemin was cruel enough to stroke him on his most sensitive spots. Which meant that it happened a lot.
“Can you give me one more?” He asked. Rhetorically. Because the next thing Renjun knew was Jaemin suddenly dragging his hips forward and easily slinging Renjun’s legs over his shoulders so he could then fuck him on the position that, through numerous trial and error, would guarantee a finish to the both of them by the end of it.
“No… no,– Jaemin… please. I can’t,–!” His protests were cut short with a gasp. Because like ghosts, arms began to creep onto his body from Renjun’s periphery. Everyone else, roused up from their respective early dawn naps by Renjun’s amplifying moans, slowly moved closer to them and joined Jaemin in becoming this… nebulous, intense cloud of indiscernible lump of squirming limbs with only one goal in their minds.
Make him come.
Fingers on his arms, fingers on his torso, fingers kneading and palming and massaging his and Jaemin’s flesh, so much so that they would have begun to meld together into one being if the universe allows them to do so.
On the halfway point of their upward journey, Jaemin bit him on the nook of his neck. Hard enough, and his skin battered enough, to draw blood. He tasted it when Jaemin captured his lips on an uncharacteristically desperate kiss. Could it be? Renjun found himself thinking, that he hasn’t come once during the night? “One more, Renjun. For me,” he whispered in a shaky, needy tone. “Please. Please?”
Easy for him to beg. Easy for Renjun too, to accept his request with a frantic nod. But hard for him to make the journey up as things had grown to be too much for him long before the finish goal even appeared on the horizon.
His body burned. In a blaze of mind boggling arousal and also physically, from the way his muscles were contracting in response to Jaemin’s assaults. It was a delicious sensation, for the first hundredth time. But then, the fire finally grew hot enough to scorch past his buffering barrier and burned him right on his core.
“It hurts,–!” He wailed through gritted teeth when, in the heat of the moment, Jaemin grabbed him by his cock. Soft and limp and could only twitch pitifully even when Jaemin gave it a firm stroke.
“No it doesn’t.” Jaemin growled, “feel it, baby. I’m making you feel good.” With a simple nod of his head, he got four sets of hands to pin Renjun to the ground. One for each of his limbs, and an extra hand to press down on his neck. Soft enough that it was delectable but hard enough that he’d begun to draw his breaths in desperate gasps.
Renjun found himself internally thanking Jaemin for the restrictions, because he would’ve kicked him on his face and broke his nose when His movements picked up into a break neck speed. The sprint for the finish line. “Come on Renjun, love.” He huffed his encouragement in increasingly garbled speech. “Come on. One more,– For me… baby. One more for me.”
And he did.
He tipped over. He gave Jaemin his one more.
Someway, somehow, he did. Perhaps it was the fingers, pinching his nipples raw. Perhaps it was the teeth nibbling his swollen bottom lips or perhaps the fingers that were rubbing the sensitive spot of his dick. But whatever it was, he slipped over and fell. Gasps hitching up into thin, high sobbing as he felt his inner muscles fluttering helplessly around Jaemin who just wouldn’t stop intruding him. “Fuuuuck… fuck me,– I’m cominggg…,– fuck me!” he began to mindlessly babble as his orgasm rolled over him like a wall. It was nothing like he’d experienced before, turning the memory of his usual orgasms into something puny and insignificant as this. This one.
This ball giant of an explosion detonated from deep within his core and burned him like an eternal fire.
The sensation of his contractions combined with the sight of him, back arched so lewdly, eyes squeezed shut in an expression that had completely crossed the border from pleasure to pain, fingers grabbing and clawing so mindlessly into the flesh of whoever was closest to him that he drew blood… they must’ve been too much for Jaemin to take because he finally, thankfully, came. Ending Renjun’s torture with one final pounding before shuddering to a stop deep within him. “I got you, baby.” His whispers were peppered by the beautiful sound of his strained moans. “I got you.”
Renjun was already wrung so dry by that point that nothing was released out of him on the final time he came during the early morning. Only broken screams, that were muffled by probably three sets of palms latching over his mouth while numerous more worked overtime to pin his convulsing limbs down on the floor. They were nothing more but a heap of boneless jelly by the time he was done. By the time that Jaemin had taken him into his embrace, calmly rocked and shushed in the single most kindest moment that Jaemin had shown to him in the history of them ever being together.
To be fair, Renjun was sobbing out quite severely so Jaemin might only be acting that way as he was terrified of what the others would do to him if he treated him in a blaze manner, but Renjun couldn’t care less.
He was being held, oh so carefully. Sore limbs caressed softly to tenderness and locked joints warmed up by delightful massages while sweet words flowed into his subconscious through low whispers in his ears.
Renjun weakly whined in protest when he got picked off from the ground. He just wanted to sleep, god dammit. Be it on the itchy surface of the Persian rug or on the neck-aching surface of the sofa, so be it. “Where are we going?” He whined into the nook of Jaemin’s arm.
“To a bed, love,” Jaemin shushed him in return.
In his half-awake state only lucid due to the residual adrenaline still coursing in his blood from the last fuckery he partaken in, Renjun took it that they were going to take him to a bed to continue. So, in panic, he began to trash his limb in an effort to free himself from Jaemin’s hold. “No more! God, Jaemin… please. I can’t take any more,–“ Or at least that was what he aimed for. In his exhaustion, it amounted to little more but wimpy patterings.
“Renjun,–“ Jaemin mercifully stopped his flailing arm with an easy hug. “We’re done for today, alright?” He reassured him by nuzzling his nose against Renjun’s temple. His words were riddled with giggles when he spoke next. “We’re going to bed to sleep, ok?”
“M,– my clothes?” Renjun tried to crane his neck away, remembering that his pajama pants were still lying forgotten inside the kitchen sink.
But he was prevented from doing so with a hand placed softly on his cheek, smoothing out his sweat drenched hair while keeping it cradled against Jaemin’s chest. “The kids are taking care of it,” Jeno chimed in, apparating to his left.
He ended up back inside the room where he started. The first floor guest bedroom where not three hours ago he was sleeping soundly on. To imagine that his world could shift so drastically since then… Renjun didn’t really want to think about it. He didn’t think that he could anyways, even if he wanted to. Because the moment his warm cheeks pressed against the coolness of the pillowcase’s soft fabric, he was a goner. But weirdly, he couldn’t sleep yet. No matter how much his body was screaming for him to rest, he just couldn’t get his brain to completely shut off until he knew that everyone had joined him in his little, cozy nest.
(Jaemin was laughing throughout the time when Renjun whined and babbled for ‘everyone to return to me’. Giggles riddled his words of reassurance and consolation while he kept Renjun soothed with his gentle caresses. Yeah, alright. He might look real embarrassing when he hugged and coddled and kissed the rest of the gang as they made their way to the bed, but Renjun was so far gone inside this weird, matronly mindset of togetherness that he couldn’t care less.)
(Besides, the way they returned his hugs and kisses with an equally sweet affectation of pecks on his cheeks and ruffles of his hair felt so good on his exhausted hard that Renjun just took Jaemin’s gigglings in stride.)
Little by little, everyone else piled onto the objectively small queen sized bed in the middle of the room, squeezing their limbs into the last of any free space like a pack of sardines. Usually, this would lead to an annoying bitch-slap contest for who gets to have more room. But that morning, maybe because they were too exhausted to care, maybe because they were already too sleepy after staying up for nearly the entire night, maybe, because they no longer have to hide their desire of wanting to be and loving the sensation of being held by people they care the most, that everyone stopped… caring?
In the calm, bubbly silence, helped by the young morning sun and the childish, inquisitive nature that came easy in the cusp of sleep, all the weird, funny oddities that resulted from their wild acts of debauchery finally came to light.
Donghyuk was the only one who ended up being butt naked, somehow. Chenle was wearing Jisung’s top and Jisung was wearing Chenle’s pajama pants. Mark managed to put his tee front side back and inside out, while Renjun finally realised that there was a gigantic hole at the back of his shirt. Jeno’s glasses were significantly bent in an awkward angle, and while Jaemin was quietly laughing at how weird it looked perching on his shapely nose, Jeno pointed out that he had a hickey spot in the middle of his forehead, out of all places.
Giggles rippled through the over-capacitated bed, creaking a few coils in the process, which were quickly counteracted with a few insistent hushes.
Because tell tale sounds of a day being started seeped past the cracks underneath the guest room’s thick bedroom door. Sinks creaking, water running, silverwares tinkling as Chenle’s housekeepers must’ve started preparing for breakfast on the surface where, once again, unsanitary things had gone down on it not even two hours ago.
They have to stay quiet to not get caught.
But… easier said than done, right?
“We have to do this again soon,” Donghyuk hummed, which was quickly cut short by Renjun’s grunt.
“Not until I fully recover from yall’s horny ass.”
“So like, two days?” Chenle piped up from the edge of the bed.
“Two weeks, more like~” Jeno yawned out his protest.
“No, but seriously if I find out that I have an STI because someone here is a ten-timing, no-condom-wearing slut, that person has to pay for my treatments.” Renjun cut the silence with a serious PSA, capped by a snort coming from his right.
“If you have an STI then everyone else here will have an STI too.” Jaemin said, before then shrugging his shoulders when Jisung popped his head up from his pillow and stared at him with shock. “We’re all in this together, right? Maybe we should make an insurance pool for when something like that ever happens.”
“Or better yet,” Jisung chimed, “let’s just keep it in the polycule!”
“Alright who taught the child that,” Donghyuk groaned in faux annoyance, “Chenle?”
“Hey! I don’t even know what that means!”
Pittering laughter rippled through the bed, slowly coming to a calm stop by hushes of low sighs.
“God, I love you guys so much, you know that?” Mark, the sweetheart that he is, lost the game of ‘who would be the first to spew some tacky shit?’ that, to be fair, no one else but Renjun was playing. He casted his arms as far as he could and pulled everyone in into a tight hug. Suffocated they might be, icky-ed they might be, but nobody said a thing but endeared coos and whisperings of ‘love you too’s.
Everything should’ve ended there. They should be able to sleep then, waking up at two in the afternoon to the non stop chiding of Chenle’s mother, perhaps.
But then…
They heard a scream…
Coming from the direction of the living room.
Nearly instantly, Donghyuk let out a horrified gasp as he shot up to his butt with his palms both slapped tightly over his mouth.
“I forgot my underwear…”
Chaos sort of broke out in the small guest room but it was something Renjun and Jaemin decided to not partake in.
Only managing to give out a little shrug, Renjun burrowed his face deeper into the light throw blanket that Jaemin draped over both their shoulders.
“I guess I have to thank you,” with the panicked whispers of the rest of the gang acting as a weirdly comforting white noise machine, Renjun sighed his exhaustion into the fluff of his pillow, “tonight was fun.”
Jaemin gave his hair one last brush, resting his arm over Renjun’s shoulders before he then pulled the latter closer into a loose cuddle, “won’t be possible without your cooperation, love.”
He guessed that, at the end of the day, the storm did come. Scrambling up his friendship, where he stood in the group dynamic.
But storms aren’t inherently bad, are they?
Then, warm and cozied up under the swathe of blankets and the warmth, the sounds, the liveliness of his friends, the storm that Renjun’d always feared amounted to nothing more but a light pattering of rain against his bedroom window.
Before sleep claimed him, a thought flitted through the foggy haze of his brain.
So he guessed this was what he would do if he was found out by his friends…
Instigate a seven-way orgy of his dreams.
How wonderfully wicked.