Archive of Our Own ^beta

The trouble of course, begins at dinner - to no one’s surprise.

They’re all seated around the table - all eight of them, princes with domains inherited by birthright. From a distance, it appears like any banquet with a long table abound with decadent dishes, the silverware and cutlery made of the finest materials, and there’s even an ensemble of the best musicians in the realm playing in the background.

It’s an arrangement they have once a month, where they would draw someone's name by lots and gather at the chosen prince’s palace for an evening of a seemingly delectable endless supply of food prepared by the most gifted cooks of the realm, often accompanied by the best wines, desserts and music.

A dinner party with all the princes, hardly a surprise to the untrained eye. What, of course, most of the realm don’t know, is what lies behind closed doors, without any other prying eyes.

The meat course has just been cleared, when Jongho starts to get restless. He takes a long glance at his dinner companions seated around him, each wearing varying expressions of boredness and fatigue thanks mainly to the abundant meal accompanied by the slow tempo of the musicians’ playing in the background. He’s twiddling his thumbs with some measure of impatience, and his attention soon turns to the one who’s sitting closest to him, in the chair right next to his.

Jongho gives Yeosang a onceover, not even bothering to conceal his wandering gaze traversing from head to toe, before coming up to pause at Yeosang’s legs. His posture, of course is without any flaws, him having gone through years of rigorous dance training which was only but a minute part of a prince’s upbringing and required education. Jongho’s gaze pauses on Yeosang’s side profile, something he distantly wishes he could capture in a painting. He just might, he thinks, some other time when he could have Yeosang seated in front of him for a few hours, splayed out on his comfortably large velvet loveseat. Preferably also if he was in varied states of undress.

His hand starts to wander before he starts to realize it, coming first to rest on Yeosang’s knee. Yeosang pays him no heed, of course, seemingly immersed in the piece that the musicians were currently strumming on their violins and harps. He’s swaying to the music, none the wiser as Jongho’s hand slowly moves up his knee to his thigh, pausing there for a moment. Jongho can feel taut muscle, the product of diligent, committed practice. Yeosang still doesn’t move, very much lost in the music. It must be a certain one which he enjoys, by how it’s captured his focus. Physical touch among the eight of them is also nothing new, and is also given out in plentitudes.

Jongho sucks in a breath, pondering his possible next course of action as his hand stays resting on Yeosang’s thigh, not moving. He could remove his hand, and trudge through the remainder of the dinner as though he was feeling nothing, or he could continue, knocking down a metaphorical stack of cards and possibly steering the evening into other terrains of perhaps a more carnal variety. He lets out an exhale after a moment, pressing his hand more firmly into Yeosang’s thigh. Jongho feels Yeosang squirm beneath his touch - his hand wandering higher up now, close to Yeosang’s inner thigh. It’s clear what Jongho has chosen. His expression remains flat, matching the lackadaisical mood of the dinner and the moderate tempo of the music.

From the corner of his eye, Jongho can detect Yeosang’s perceiving gaze on him, eyes wide in his face. Around them, conversation continues to flow among the others, but it’s largely empty, nothing of real weight. Some of them have gotten up to excuse themselves to the restroom, also wanting to freshen up before the dessert course is served. Jongho sways a little in his seat, shifting his gaze into the directions opposite of Yeosang to feign listening in to whatever it was the other princes were talking about. Wooyoung is making a thinly veiled joke about polishing his new swords which had just arrived from the blacksmith, while Hongjoong, the host for this evening, sits at the head of the table, beckoning over one of the waitstaff to top up their wine goblets. San, for some inexplicable reason, has decided to opt out of sitting at his chair, walking over to a pillar behind the dinner table to lean against it, legs spread out as his eyelids are on the verge of closing. Yunho is occupied with nestling his head against Mingi’s shoulder, the lip stain on his mouth looking suspiciously smudged and slightly out of place.

Jongho continues to caress Yeosang’s thigh, fingers brushing up and down the fabric there at a slow, unhurried pace. Yeosang leans to the side, his lips twitching into a strained smile as he tries to suppress his rather stunned expression. It’s not that Jongho was stingy with his touches, but rather it was where he was, in the open at their dinner table of all places. Yeosang’s eyes start to dart around between Jongho and the rest of the table, especially trying to focus on what Hongjoong was saying about a new trade route - except no one else was really paying attention, of course.

Yeosang’s breath audibly hitches when Jongho finds his way dangerously close to his groin, rubbing at the toned muscle there. Jongho at last turns slowly to face him, before turning back to also feign listening to Hongjoong continuing to wax on about trade routes and imported produce. Jongho then decides to take it up a notch, starting to massage Yeosang’s thigh, his fingers slowly wrapping around his leg to press there. Color begins to flood Yeosang’s fair face, cheeks turning pink as though he’d drunken down an entire goblet of wine all at one go.

“Jongho-ya,” Yeosang hisses under his breath. “What the hell are you up to?”

Jongho turns to Yeosang, gazing back at him wickedly as the corner of his mouth perks upward. “Nothing,” he hums, making no effort to remove his hand from Yeosang’s leg - he starts to move his hand more intently, relishing the strained noises that Yeosang was making next to him. By now, Yeosang’s reddening face along with his stressed expression have started to earn him some more pairs of perceiving eyes, especially Yunho who has always been particularly watchful to begin with.

“Quiet down,” Jongho murmurs, still unrestrained in his touches. “Unless, hyung, you want an audience?” he casts a sly gaze towards Yeosang, who’s biting down rather hard on his lower lip, his lip starting to swell a little. Yeosang can only let out a wordless whine in response, and Jongho’s already started his mental countdown, to see how long Yeosang can hold back, before he just can’t anymore.

He thinks he won’t be able to last even a few minutes. In that terse moment, it’s as though the music fades into the background, Yeosang’s usually sharpened focus now in danger of collapsing the more Jongho touches him, fingers dangerously close to the front of his pants. Yeosang stretches out his dominant hand towards the table, eyes fixed on the goblet in front of him as he attempts to shift his focus elsewhere to throw his mind off of Jongho’s intense touches. He barely manages to pick up the goblet with slightly shaky hands, as the waitstaff begin to serve their desserts, some small pastries and some heaping bowls of fruit. Yeosang lifts the cup to his mouth shakily, taking a sip of his wine, and that’s when Jongho’s hand shifts backwards to cup his ass.

Yeosang leans back forward towards the table, and when Jongho gives his ass a light squeeze, whatever little was left of Yeosang’s restraint falls to the ground, just as his grip on his goblet loosens, the cup crashing down to the floor with a deafening clang.

There’s the loud screech of a chair being shoved backwards as Yeosang gets up from his chair, freezing for a brief moment before he slings his leg over Jongho’s lap, body flush against the younger man as he tugs him in for a heated kiss, taking in a sharp inhale as he does. Jongho giggles softly against Yeosang’s lips as the last metaphorical walls of Yeosang’s restraint come tumbling down, Yeosang dizzy with desire as he kisses Jongho over and over, while Jongho’s hands wander down Yeosang’s shoulders, tugging down the ridiculously long red cape he had on draped over his black inner prince’s robes.

“Fucking hell,” Hongjoong curses audibly, setting down his goblet on the table with a loud thud. “You bastards couldn’t even wait at least until dessert was over?”

Yunho, meanwhile, is still keenly watching them, his head still comfortable on Mingi’s shoulder. He remarks with an incredulous snort, “Hyung, I think they’ve already started their dessert,” and he chuckles when he feels Mingi’s shoulders shake as he laughs uncontrollably too.

Hongjoong groans irritatedly as he gestures urgently to the waitstaff and the hired musicians who unfortunately were still standing around in the dining room to get them to clear out. They pick up quickly on Hongjoong’s stern gaze, and they shuffle out in an orderly line, the last one to leave making sure to close the door firmly and ensuring it was locked. The waitstaff themselves had some form of knowledge about what the princes would get up to, and knew when to make themselves sufficiently scarce.

Yeosang lets out a soft moan as he starts to grind his hips against Jongho, who has both hands copping a generous feel of his ass, in full view of whoever was watching. San, meanwhile, has a view from the back, able to see Yeosang get lost in Jongho’s wandering touches, desperately grinding against Jongho. He glances down at his exposed neckline, and then down to his pants, beginning to feel the fabric in the front straining as he starts to feel blood rush south. San shrugs to himself before he undoes his pants, touching himself lazily as he watches Yeosang and Jongho.

Wooyoung, meanwhile, appears unfazed. Usually, he would have a sharp jibe or two, but tonight the cogs in his mind are going off. He’s slouched in his chair next to Yeosang, glancing at them sideways before he looks at the still untouched desserts left on the table. His focus is won by the cherries in the fruit bowl, and he reaches out for one, picking it up delicately between his fingers. Wooyoung dangles the red fruit just over his mouth, body slouched back in the chair as he props his feet up onto the table, the tablecloth wrinkling beneath his shoes. His eyes are half lidded as he parts his mouth to place the fruit between his lips, sucking on the fruit for a moment, spit wetting the cherry before he bites down slowly, the juice staining his lips slightly. He swallows the fruit slowly, making sure he’s got eyes on him. By then, Yunho is also in Mingi’s lap, the two watching relaxedly, Mingi’s hand running up and down to caress Yunho’s back. They’re keen to watch first, rather than dive headfirst like Yeosang and Jongho.

There’s muffled voices outside the door, but no one makes any effort to stop whatever they were doing, before Seonghwa pushes through the doors, grumbling at the waitstaff who give him apologetic and genuinely flustered expressions. “Fuck, they’ve started, haven’t they,” he mutters under his breath as he dries his hands on the front of his pants. His brow furrows as he stands near to the front of the table where Hongjoong is seated, resting his hands on his hips.

Jongho has started to help Yeosang into a semi-state of undress, the only thing left on him now being his mesh top and his underwear, while Jongho’s red jacket has been likely cast aside somewhere in the dining room. When Seonghwa leans to the side, wondering where San was, he sniffs, gaze unmoved as he sees San still getting himself off to the sight of Jongho and Yeosang.

“It’s started, huh,” Seonghwa looks down at Hongjoong, tone dry as day. Hongjoong by then has evidently given up on attempting to maintain an image of decorum that their ranks demanded, resting his chin on his hand as he gazes around whatever was happening at the table. He only nods, gaze not leaving the table. He picks up a bunch of grapes, picking them out one by one as he continues to watch the other princes.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung rises slowly from his chair, each movement of his calculated and deliberate. There’s a slight sway of his hips as he strides towards Seonghwa, before placing himself brazenly into Seonghwa’s lap. “Hyung, play with me?” he asks, batting his eyelashes. Seonghwa knows, of course, that Wooyoung has always enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the game of winning over his other beloved princes. But Seonghwa as the eldest of them all, has a steely resolve, and he doesn’t even spare Wooyoung a single glance as he leans forward to pick up a cherry from the bowl in front of him, his abrupt movement nearly causing Wooyoung to fall off his lap.

“Seriously,” Wooyoung mutters with a pout, as he watches Seonghwa ignore him in favor of his dessert, “you’re no fun, hyung.” Seonghwa has the cherry pressed between his lips as he looks at Wooyoung, gaze hawklike. “Go disturb someone else, Wooyoung-ah,” he murmurs as he eats the cherry. Wooyoung sighs loudly, before swinging his leg over to get up from Seonghwa’s lap. He knows from experience that trying to prod at Seonghwa would not earn him his attention, so he flits about the room almost like a changeling, looking for someone else who might be more willing to entertain him.

“Let’s go there, Mingi-ya,” Yunho leans to whisper into Mingi’s ear. “Wanna have a better look.” They both get up from their seats, moving over to the vacant chair where Wooyoung was originally seated, Mingi wrapping his hands around Yunho’s waist as Yunho settles onto his lap. Yunho reaches over to caress Yeosang’s cheek, while Jongho’s lips leave kisses down Yeosang’s neck, Yeosang tilting his head slightly back. Jongho has one hand curled around Yeosang’s cock, working his hand up and down while he sucks marks into Jongho’s skin, Yeosang letting out soft moans.

“Yeosang-ah,” Yunho murmurs. “Come here,” his voice drops a register. Yeosang leans up to look at Yunho next to him. His lip stain, too, is smudged and his mesh top is askew, his shoulder bare. Yunho leans over, and Yeosang meets him in the middle to kiss him back. Yunho lets out a satisfied hum against his lips, while Mingi leans aside to undo Yunho’s pants too. Yeosang gasps softly when he feels Yunho’s teeth graze his lower lip, but he soon understands when he sees Mingi start to stroke Yunho off too.

“Sannie,” Wooyoung singsongs as he stretches out a hand. “Play with me?” he says with a smirk. San pauses to look up at Wooyoung who is glancing down at him, eagerness in his eyes. He raises a brow, before he’s up on his feet and with a quick motion he pushes Wooyoung into the pillar where he’d been leaning on earlier, gripping Wooyoung’s wrists with both hands to pin it above his head. Wooyoung giggles, pleased as he stretches out a leg to hook San in by the waist, tugging him close. San’s expression remains flat, eyes traversing down Wooyoung’s body as he tilts his gaze, before he lifts a knee to brush against the front of Wooyoung’s pants, not rushing as he does.

“San-ah,” Wooyoung gasps, sensitive to the touch, the material of his tapered pants leaving very little to the imagination. San ignores Wooyoung as he continues to brush his knee against Wooyoung’s groin, feeling him go hard. “San-ah,” Wooyoung’s voice turns into a plea, “W-want you inside m-me,” he chokes out when San presses harder against his crotch, cock straining in his pants.

San rubs his knee once more, before he turns to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, still seated at the head of the table, still watching. “What do you think, hyung? Do you think he deserves it?” San lowers his voice that it’s almost like a growl, not even sparing Wooyoung a glance. Wooyoung continues to whimper, but San continues to ignore him, waiting for the two oldest to respond.

“Hmm,” Hongjoong hums, his expression unmoved as he slides his hand over Seonghwa’s. “What do you think, Seonghwa-ya?”

Seonghwa’s lips contort into a warped, dark smirk as he scoffs coldly. “Let’s see if he can take it in the mouth first, then we’ll decide if he deserves to get fucked,” he hums.

Hongjoong snorts, leaning to glance at Seonghwa, asking wordlessly which of them would be the one to test Wooyoung. San, in the meantime, continues to wind Wooyoung up by leaning in to nip at the exposed patches of skin at his neckline, teeth grazing along tanned skin. Wooyoung whimpers into his mouth, frustrated at being unable to move while San touches him over his pants. Eventually, Hongjoong gets up from his chair, taking his time to make his way towards the pillar. Seonghwa remains content to be an observer for now, knowing he’d get his way with them eventually. Patience is no difficult feat for him, and he takes light sips of his wine, casting a slow glance over where Yunho and Yeosang continued to kiss, more messily now as Mingi and Jongho continue to use their hands to get them off.

“Let him down,” Hongjoong murmurs, standing by the pillar. San loosens his grip that was restraining Wooyoung, face softening as he massages Wooyoung’s wrists. “‘M okay, San-ah,” Wooyoung whispers. But that moment of brief tenderness is fleeting, as Hongjoong whispers, dropping his voice a register. “Kneel.”

Wooyoung swallows, and for a moment he’s tempted to defy Hongjoong, to run his mouth. But with both San and Hongjoong looking at him so intensely, he slowly lowers himself to get on his knees, pressing against the carpeted ground. In the corner, there’s the echo of soft laughter as Seonghwa chuckles, tossing another cherry into his mouth. “He can come to me if he behaves, Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa says from the sidelines, and Hongjoong looks back at him, nodding with a smirk.

“What are you waiting for?” Hongjoong snaps, gripping Wooyoung by the chin. Wooyoung swallows, and his hands reach out to touch the zip of Hongjoong’s trousers, tugging his pants down by the waistband. Wooyoung tugs out Hongjoong’s cock, licking his lips at the sight. He whimpers when he feels a hand curl into his hair, grip tight as he’s pulled in closer. He opens his mouth, lips wrapping around Hongjoong’s cock, feeling the weight in his mouth. San presses his fingers against Wooyoung’s cheek, a silent signal for him to hurry up. So Wooyoung does, taking it slow as he slides his tongue up and down, moaning against Hongjoong’s skin. Hongjoong’s grip lightens as Wooyoung sucks him off.

“San-ah,” Hongjoong grunts. “Let’s see if he can take both of us,” he gnaws down on his lower lip as Wooyoung’s eyes look up to meet his, wide in his face. San curses under his breath, and soon he’s undoing his pants too, freeing his cock that was now hard from when he was working himself up earlier.

“Don’t forget about Sannie, Wooyoung-ah,” Hongjoong murmurs, running a hand through his hair. Wooyoung pulls off from Hongjoong’s cock for a moment, making a damp pop noise before he takes San’s cock into his mouth, head sliding up and down. San’s a little bit bigger, and Wooyoung clamps his eyes shut when he feels San’s cock nearly hit the back of his throat.

“You can take it, Wooyoung-ah,” Hongjoong whispers as he leans in to press soft kisses to San’s temple while Wooyoung sucks him off. Seeing that Hongjoong was unattended to, San reaches over to stroke Hongjoong off, Hongjoong letting out a soft gasp when he feels San’s fingers wrap around his cock.

“S-shit, San-ah,” Hongjoong bites down harder on his lower lip, his words coming out broken as he feels San working him up with his hand, and watching Wooyoung suck cock below him. San removes his hand a moment to spit on it, before continuing to stroke Hongjoong off.

“Hyung,” San leans to the side, lifting Hongjoong’s chin with his finger as he smirks. “That feel good?” Hongjoong clamps his eyes shut, feeling his skin heat up. San then abruptly removes his hand, earning an irritated noise from Hongjoong. “You said you wanted him to take both of us, hyung,” San whispers, glancing down at Wooyoung, who pauses in the midst of licking circles around the tip of San’s cock.

Hongjoong laughs breathily, and he nods. Wooyoung pulls away again, a thread of spit on his tongue as he does. San shifts forward, and Wooyoung adjusts himself, opening his mouth wider as he licks at the tips of their cocks, tongue drawing bigger circles.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa grunts from where he’s seated, watching the three of them. “So he can take it.” Wooyoung finds it hard to take more of the both of them in his mouth at once, so he settles for alternating between touching with his hands, and using his mouth. It’s a messy, uncoordinated rhythm, but from the way they were tugging on his hair, he must be doing decently.

“Are you c-close, San-ah,” Hongjoong rasps, knowing he himself was about to come. San makes a low noise in his throat, unable to form words, his mind feeling like it was floating away. “We’ll fill your mouth up, baby,” Hongjoong murmurs. Wooyoung lets out a soft whine when he feels their cocks twitch in his mouth, filling his mouth.

“Fuck,” San grunts, taking in the sight of Wooyoung below them, hair a mess. Wooyoung sticks his tongue out, licking around in his mouth as though tasting their come before he swallows, making sure they could see.

“Holy fucking shit,” Hongjoong exhales when Wooyoung smirks, licking his lips clean of come.

“Can I go play with Seonghwa-hyung now?” Wooyoung says, voice a little bit hoarse from the strain of taking both of them in his mouth. Hongjoong nods, legs a bit shaky still. San takes him by the wrist, tugging him down onto one of the larger seats behind the dining table and pulling him close in favor of kissing him over and over.

Wooyoung gets up from where he was kneeling, a smug smirk on his face as he walks to Seonghwa, strutting proudly over as though he was about to claim some precious prize. He climbs onto Seonghwa’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck as he wears an expectant expression. Seonghwa decides to soften a little as he pulls a cherry from the bowl on the table, putting it into his mouth to bite off one half slowly, Wooyoung watching him with lips slightly parted. The other half of the cherry is pressed to Wooyoung’s lips, Wooyoung’s teeth lightly grazing Seonghwa’s fingertips as he takes it into his mouth. He chews on it slowly, swallowing it but opens his mouth to reveal the cherry stem.

Wooyoung tilts his neck sideways, Seonghwa still watching him keenly. Then Wooyoung moves the stem about in his mouth for a moment before he finally parts his lips, revealing a prettily knotted cherry stem.

Seonghwa lets out a breathy laugh. “Minx,” he murmurs, and he lifts Wooyoung up to make him sit on the table, Wooyoung giggling when he feels himself come into contact with the surface of the table. Seonghwa leans down, bracketing Wooyoung’s body between him as he catches Wooyoung’s mouth in a deep kiss, more hunger than tenderness. Wooyoung angles himself backwards, leaning down closer to the table as Seonghwa pushes him down further, his hands now wandering down Wooyoung’s body. Wooyoung’s fingers curl into Seonghwa’s shoulders, wanting to tug his jacket off. Seonghwa lets him, shaking off the heavy jacket to let it slide down to the ground.

“Want you, hyung,” Wooyoung whispers against Seonghwa’s lips. “Want you in me, please -”

Seonghwa pulls away for a moment to take in Wooyoung below him, arms and legs spread on the table for him. He raises a brow, acting like he was considering Wooyoung’s proposition before he bends down to search under the table, where whatever they needed was conveniently hidden beneath. He tugs out the basket, the muffled sound of plastic ripping, as he tosses a plastic bottle and condom packet next to Wooyoung on the table. The sound of the bottle of lube being uncapped is loud enough to catch the attention of the others, who pause what they’re doing. They watch as Seonghwa tugs Wooyoung’s pants down swiftly, Wooyoung’s tongue darting out as he smirks. Seonghwa kicks away Wooyoung’s pants and underwear on the ground, and instead of squeezing the lube onto his own hand, he grabs one of Wooyoung’s hands, lube coating his fingers.

“Open yourself up,” Seonghwa orders him, voice low. “Show us how you do it.”

Wooyoung blinks momentarily, before his lips curl upward as he giggles, tongue darting out again. He makes sure his fingers are coated sufficiently with the lube, before he spreads his legs apart, knees in the air. Wooyoung arches slightly off the table as he works one finger, and then one more into himself, hissing at the cold sensation of the lube.

“That’s it,” Seonghwa murmurs. “Fuck yourself with your fingers, Wooyoung-ah, you know you want to show us.”

Wooyoung thrusts his fingers slowly in and out, Seonghwa watching entranced as he hears the lewd squelching noises from Wooyoung’s fingers sliding in and out of his hole, working himself open. Seonghwa undoes the front of Wooyoung’s jacket, before lifting up Wooyoung’s black inner shirt until it’s bunched up at his collarbone. He wets his lips before leaning down to lick at Wooyoung’s nipples, feeling Wooyoung’s hand between them as he continues to work himself open.

“F-fuck, hyung,” Wooyoung moans, feeling the warmth of Seonghwa’s mouth on him. He arches into the touch, letting out soft, broken gasps at the sensation both from fingering himself and from Seonghwa’s tongue licking circles around his nipples.

By now, the dining room has gotten noisier, a chorus of moans echoing in the air. San and Hongjoong have come over to Seonghwa’s side of the table, Hongjoong tiptoeing to kiss the back of Seonghwa’s neck as he caresses his back, while San is leaving a trail of kisses over Wooyoung’s bare calf, up to his knee, leaning to the side to kiss his thigh.

Jongho has gotten inspired too, having moved himself and Yeosang to the table, opposite from where Seonghwa and Wooyoung were. The basket has been shoved outside so whoever needed to take from it, could do so.

“Hyung,” Jongho murmurs against the nape of Yeosang’s neck, bending Yeosang over the table. Yeosang barely stifles his moan when, after he hears Jongho moving about behind him to lube himself up and get a condom on, Jongho enters him with a slow thrust.

Yeosang’s head lolls to the side as Jongho’s cock slides in and out of him, slowly stretching him out too. “Uh-uh, hyung,” Jongho threads his fingers into Yeosang’s curls, making him turn to face the front. “Want you to watch them - watch Seonghwa-hyung and Wooyoung-hyung while I fuck you good, yeah,” he rasps as he thrusts sharply in and out of Yeosang.

Yeosang can barely keep his focus, the feeling of Jongho’s cock inside him clouding up his mind. “J-Jongho-ya,” Yeosang moans. “Faster,” he begs, so prettily that Jongho can’t find it in himself to be a brat and resist, so he speeds up his thrusts.

Mingi and Yunho have stilled for a while to rest at their spot in the chair, lazily watching whatever was happening on the table. Then, Yunho tugs Mingi in by the collar, sharp enough that Mingi’s ridiculously large hat falls off onto the ground, before he catches Mingi’s lips in a heated kiss, the sound of the others’ moans echoing around them. Yunho moans into Mingi’s mouth when he feels Mingi reach into his inner shirt, fingers tweaking a nipple.

“‘M ready,” Wooyoung leans to the side, tapping Seonghwa lightly on the shoulder. Hongjoong and San move away to stand on either side of them, watching as Seonghwa leans down to press a kiss to the corner of Wooyoung’s jaw before he shirks off his pants and underwear, then enters him with a hard thrust. Seonghwa has Wooyoung lying flat against the table, and he’s bent almost completely over to the front too.

Seonghwa lets out a sharp gasp when he feels fingers circle the rim of his hole, before sliding in. “Shh,” Hongjoong whispers against Seonghwa’s back. “I’ll make you feel real good, Seonghwa-ya. He fucks Seonghwa’s hole with his fingers, licking at his upper lip as he watches Seonghwa’s hips move more unsteadily as he tries to fuck into Wooyoung while Hongjoong fingers him.

“C’mere, San-hyung,” Jongho pauses mid thrust, hand pressing lightly into Yeosang’s back, Yeosang breathing heavily against the table. San walks over, eyes dark with desire as he gazes over their joined bodies. Jongho pulls out of Yeosang slowly, before Jongho gets himself onto the table, lying down. He taps on Yeosang’s ass, beckoning him to come up to get onto his lap. Yeosang spreads his legs, slowly lowering himself onto Jongho’s cock, biting down onto his lips. “You can suck San-hyung off, can you, Yeosang-hyung, while you bounce on my cock,” Jongho says breathily, lightly slapping Yeosang on the ass. Yeosang gulps, turning halfway to nod slowly at Jongho, who smirks at him. San takes a step closer, letting Yeosang take his cock into his mouth, while he starts to ride Jongho. Yeosang moans when he feels Jongho’s cock hit close to his prostate, while San hisses at the vibrations from Yeosang’s mouth around him, tightening the grip of his fingers in Yeosang’s hair.

The table starts to shake as they all move against it, bodies on bodies.

Wooyoung starts to let out louder, more drawn out moans, about to hit his limit. He taps lightly onto Seonghwa’s shoulder. “H-hyung, m-gonna - fucking come - oh shit -” he rasps as he wriggles beneath Seonghwa’s touch, cock spurting white onto their stomachs.

“H-hyung’s close too, f-fuck, Wooyoung - Hongjoong-ah, fuck, fucking hell-” he clenches tightly around Hongjoong’s cock as he chases his own orgasm, mouth biting down onto the junction of Wooyoung’s neck and shoulder as he comes, going boneless against Wooyoung who lets out breathless chuckles.

“Hongjoong-hyung,” Wooyoung murmurs. “Wanna come on me?”

Hongjoong curses under his breath before he slowly pulls out of Seonghwa, who flips over to lie on the table next to Wooyoung, tugging off the condom before Wooyoung reaches up to curl his fingers around Hongjoong’s cock, pumping him until he comes on Wooyoung’s chest. “Shit,” Hongjoong hisses, watching Wooyoung take a finger to dip onto his skin, sliding his finger into his mouth to lick the come off. Hongjoong then goes over to where Seonghwa is lying on the table, tugging him up to sit so they could make out lazily, hands on bare skin.

“Don’t leave us out of the fun, hyung,” Yunho chuckles lowly as he and Mingi walk over to join them at the table. Feeling himself in a flighty, good mood, Wooyoung gets on his knees on the table, tugging Mingi close so his back was flush against his chest, while Yunho faces Mingi, wrapping both their cocks in his hands, trying to pump them off at once. Wooyoung’s fingers travel down to caress Mingi’s chest, feeling his nipples and lightly tweaking them while Yunho gets them off.

Mingi lets out soft cries, by now so worked up from watching the rest of them, and from Yunho touching him that he comes with a broken cry, spilling onto Yunho’s hand while Wooyoung leans in, breath warm as he nips at his ear.

“Yunho -” Mingi rasps as he weakly reaches down to touch Yunho, the combined friction of their hands sending Yunho over the edge as he bends over to press his forehead against Mingi’s shoulder.

“That’s it, Yunho-ya,” Wooyoung murmurs, coaxing him through his orgasm. “That’s it, let go, baby.”

Yunho rests against Mingi, who pats at his back as his breathing starts to even out. Wooyoung wraps his arms around Mingi, lazily kissing him on his shoulder, on his cheek, wherever he could.

They’re startled by a strangled sound behind them, as Jongho, Yeosang and San let out low noises as they each come.

“The fuck,” Wooyoung furrows his brow. “Did they just all fucking come at the same time?”

Hongjoong parts from Seonghwa for a moment, Seonghwa’s hands still resting on his ass. “Eh? Did you all really?”

Jongho cackles as San helps Yeosang up off his lap, pulling him close for cuddles. “Fuck yeah, we did,” he licks at his lips, resting his hands on his stomach.

“Nah, that can’t be,” Mingi shakes his head, not moving from where he had Yunho in his arms, and Wooyoung’s arms round him.

“Whatever, hyungs, you don’t have to believe it if you don’t want to,” Jongho drawls with a yawn. “Fuck. I’m aching like crazy," he winces as he tries to stretch his limbs, feeling the strain.

“Nobody asked you to go nuts on my fucking table, Jongho-ya,” Hongjoong snaps at Jongho, before Seonghwa taps him on the cheek, calming him down with a kiss.

“Your poor table,” Wooyoung rests a hand against his forehead mockingly.

“Blame Jongho if anything,” Hongjoong snaps. “He started it.”

“And me, Yeosang-hyung and San-hyung managed to come at the same time, so, whatever. You all came anyways, so you've no reasons to complain,” Jongho says smugly.

There’s a series of murmurs and grumbles of aching limbs as they slowly help each other up, but then it turns to shocked gasps starting with Seonghwa when they look at the condition of Hongjoong’s table. But it turns into soft, content laughs as they help each other clean up, touches gentle and tender with some shared kisses between.

As Jongho follows Seonghwa around, arms wrapped around his back in a rare show of affection, being in a good mood, it really wasn’t too bad of an evening after all. And, he thinks to himself with a hollow chuckle, he can't help but wonder which of their palaces they might debauch next.