Archive of Our Own ^beta

It all starts during the last game of Mox’s senior year.

Yuta actually tries to pay attention this time, he swears. He knows that this is important, at least to Mox, and he’s trying to be...Well. Nicer about it. Ever since their...encounter...a few weeks before, both of them have been trying to not get on each other’s nerves as much. It’s unspoken, but Yuta supposes it’s really the only thing that makes sense. So, Mox drives Yuta to his music lessons, and Yuta tries to learn about football, and they get each other off whenever the urge strikes (one memorable occasion involves Mox sneaking into the shower with Yuta and jerking him off so well that Yuta slips when his knees give out and he nearly gives himself a concussion).

Yuta...doesn’t know how to feel about all of it. On one hand, Mox is hot and good at getting Yuta off and, now that Yuta’s gotten to know him better, he finds he really likes spending time with Mox. On the other hand...well. That’s his stepbrother. It feels sick in the pit of his stomach, but sometimes it feels like that revulsion just makes it hotter. Sometimes, Yuta’s fine with it. Sometimes, he can’t look himself in the eye. Every time they do something, he feels shaky and a little ashamed afterwards, but it’s never enough to make him stop. Hell, he doesn’t think he could stop if he tried.

So, Yuta tries to pay attention to Mox’s last game. He manages through the first quarter, but somewhere around the middle of the second, his eyes start to glaze over. He hangs in as long as he can, but eventually, his attention snaps and he decides to pull the book he’s been reading out of his bag. It’s hard to focus with as loud as the crowd is around him, and the dimming light as it slips further and further towards sunset makes it difficult to see. Still, it’s something he can do to occupy his time, so he powers through.

At halftime, his mother leans over and says she’s running to the bathroom. Yuta hums absently and nods, squinting a little at the book in his lap. God, he should’ve worn his glasses. He barely notices her leave, and he doesn’t keep track of how long it’s been until the bleacher creaks next to him.

He doesn’t look up as he says, “Hey, could we grab food after this? I think that new Italian place—” He cuts himself off when he hears a low chuckle from next to him. He freezes, mouth pinching shut as he tells himself it’s not who he thinks it is.

“My, how forward of you, Wheeler.” Sure enough, the voice that responds is low and rich, rolled in a thick accent that makes Yuta’s knees weak. He grips his book so tight the pages wrinkle and takes a deep breath before slowly looking up.

Claudio looks good—no surprise there, since he always looks good. He’s wearing a stylish black pea coat and an easy smile, eyes twinkling in the stadium lights. He’s close enough that his thigh is pressed against Yuta’s knee, and Yuta can smell the rich, heady scent of his cologne. He’s looking at Yuta with amusement and a little expectancy, almost like he’s waiting for a dog to do a trick for him.

Yuta makes a choked off noise in the back of his throat, mouth flapping uselessly when he tries to talk. He can feel the blush burning across his cheekbones, and he fights against his instincts to maintain eye contact. Claudio has always felt larger than life, at least the few times they’ve interacted. He’s a year above Mox, but the two were close friends during high school. Yuta knows they keep in contact even though Claudio’s in college now—he knows they keep in very close contact because he’s heard them fucking in the room next to him in the middle of the night. Yuta’s had a crush on Claudio since he was 14 and hormonal, and it’s stuck around like an invisible presence for the past three years. It gets worse every time they interact.

Normally, Mox is there as a barrier. Claudio and Yuta don’t run in the same circles—they never did, even when attending the same school. Claudio was older and cooler, captain of the wrestling team and worldly and far smarter than Yuta could ever hope of being. Yuta’s honestly a little surprised Claudio even remembers his name. Being alone with him like this is sending Yuta even further on his back foot, floundering a little now that he doesn’t have Mox and his boisterousness to hide behind.

Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like Claudio is expecting a response to his joke, because he continues talking after a moment of looking at Yuta with an amused quirk to his lips. “I was wondering if you would like to come to my next dual meet. Jon is coming, and he thought you might enjoy it.” There’s a little lilt to his voice that Yuta can’t place, some tonality that hints at something Yuta can’t identify.

Yuta stares at him blankly. Claudio just waits patiently, hands folded in his lap, body half-turned towards Yuta. His thigh is warm even through the layers of their pants, solid and well-muscled. Yuta’s mouth runs dry just thinking about it. “Uh. Me?” He asks, certain he’s misheard. Nothing about this seems to click together properly in his brain—Claudio is inviting him to something because Mox suggested it? He blinks hard a few times.

Claudio’s smile grows, his lips pulling tight as he chuckles. “Yes, you. We can even get food afterwards, if you’d like.” He teases, leaning in to bump his shoulder against Yuta’s. Yuta feels like he’s stepped into an alternate universe because this kind of feels like he’s being flirted with and there’s absolutely zero chance that’s what’s happening here.

“Oh, um. Sure. I’ll catch a ride with Mox, I guess.” Yuta nods, speaking almost on autopilot. His brain feels like it’s swirling around a drain, dizzily circling lower and lower in his skull. He almost feels woozy, and the way Claudio’s eyes light up doesn’t help.

“Wonderful,” Claudio says as he stands, “I look forward to seeing you next Sunday.” He rests a large hand on Yuta’s shoulder, squeezing gently before he turns and leaves, weaving his way back over to the stairs splitting the bleachers. He doesn’t disappear into the crowd purely because he’s simply too large to do so, standing much taller than most of the people milling around him.

He’s still staring at Claudio’s receding back when his mother’s voice rings in his ears. “Was that Claudio?” She asks as she sits next to him, holding out a steaming styrofoam cup. Yuta takes it automatically and nods, still watching as Claudio reaches the top of the bleachers and heads towards the parking lot on the hill the stadium seats are built into. “What’d he want?” She asks. It’s clear from her voice that she’s almost concerned, as if talking to Mox’s friends is a reason to worry.

Yuta takes a sip of the drink before he answers. It’s hot cocoa, watery and sweet, so hot that he feels his tastebuds shrivel and burn immediately. “Uh, he invited me to watch some of the wrestling stuff his college is doing. Apparently Mox said he should.” He says, finally blinking back at his mother. She looks taken aback a little, eyes stunned and round.

“Oh,” Her voice is surprised and a little high, “How nice of him.” Yuta squints at her. He knows that, despite the relatively low amount of times they’ve met, she likes Claudio—at least better than Mox’s other friends—which makes sense, because he’s kind and polite and worlds apart from the usual dumbass fare Mox spends his time with. He wonders how much she knows about his and Mox’s relationship. He suspects not a lot.

To be fair, he doesn’t even know that much about their relationship despite the fact that he knows, in intimate detail, what Claudio likes to do to Mox in bed. Yuta knows they sleep together—pretty frequently, considering—and that they’ve been friends since Mox’s freshman year. He doesn’t know if they’re dating or anything, though. He thinks they probably aren’t, or that if they are, it’s open, considering that Mox is sleeping with Yuta; despite all his numerous flaws, he isn’t the kind to cheat.

Yuta takes another slow sip. “It’s next Sunday, so I’ll hitch a ride with Mox.” He almost dreads having to spend nearly two hours in a car with Mox, simply because he’s a fucking menace when there’s no escape, but it’ll be nice to get out into the world a little bit. Yuta will be the first to admit he’s a little bit of a shut-in, more focused on school and music than he is on socializing.

Yuta’s mom looks at him for a second. “Okay,” She says finally, “But I need you two to be safe. Keep an eye on him.” Her mouth pinches into a slight frown. He knows she cares about Mox, deeply, and that Mox’s recklessness bothers her more than she lets on. He nods and smiles.

“I’ll keep him in check.” He says, voice nearly lost in the way the crowd around them erupts as halftime ends. His mom smiles at him in thanks before turning to face the game, cheering when Mox runs on the field. Yuta turns back to his book.

He doesn’t read a single word.

“So why did you tell Claudio to invite me?”

Mox looks over from the driver’s seat. He’s got one hand on the wheel, the other resting across the back of Yuta’s seat. A half-smoked cigarette hangs from his mouth, lazily bleeding smoke out the window—which is only open at Yuta’s insistence. Mox shrugs and turns back to the road.

“Thought you’d enjoy it.” He says simply. Yuta narrows his eyes and waits. He knows there’s more to it than that—there has to be, this is Mox we’re talking about. After a moment, Mox sighs and rolls his eyes. “He mentioned wanting to get to know you a little better, and you’re all ass over teakettle for him, so it seemed obvious.” He ashes his cigarette out the window.

Yuta blinks hard. And again. “What.”

Mox looks at him again and laughs at whatever expression is on his face. “What part about that is confusing?” He asks, spinning the wheel to follow the curve in the road. The car shudders a little ominously. Mox’s car is quite the beater, old and rusted and well-used. Yuta knows that their parents have offered to buy him a newer—read, safer—ride, but for whatever reason, Mox always refuses.

“Claudio said he wants to get to know me better?” Yuta can’t keep the bewilderment out of his voice, staring out the windshield with wide eyes.

Mox huffs. “I know, I can’t believe it either. Who’d want to get to know you better?” He dodges the weak punch Yuta throws his way, snickering around the butt of his cigarette. Thankfully, the car doesn’t swerve with his movement, so Yuta’s heart is only in his throat due to the conversation at hand. He’s quiet for a moment.

“He really said that?” Yuta’s voice is small when he asks. He drops his gaze to his hands, picking at the cracked callus on his thumb. He fidgets as he waits for Mox’s answer, wondering if this is all some cruel prank.

After a long moment, Mox answers. “Yeah, Wheeler, he did. Said he liked hanging out with you last week.” He’s quiet, voice soft, and he sounds the most sincere Yuta has ever heard him. Yuta blinks. He didn’t think he made an impression—Claudio and Mox had plans during the week, but Yuta had his steel drum lesson and his mom has been on a kick of getting them to spend time together now that they’ve “bonded” (if only she knew), so she kicked them both out of the house with Claudio in tow. It was fun—spending time with Mox always is nowadays, and despite the nerves Yuta always feels around Claudio, he’s a genuinely interesting guy to be around.

“Oh.” Yuta breathes, nodding absently. He chews on the inside of his lip and stares at the road stretched out in front of them. His brain is running a million miles a minute, trying to process what’s happening. He can’t quite believe that Claudio seems to like him in some respect. Yuta’s...well, he’s not exactly the kind of guy that people like Claudio hang out with. He’s awkward and nerdy and far too involved with his own niche interests.

“Kid. You okay?” Mox’s voice finally registers in Yuta’s ears, snapping him out of his thoughts. It sounds like it’s not the first time he’s said it, his brow furrowed as he glances at Yuta. Yuta takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just—caught off guard, I guess.” He manages, shaking out some of the tension in his body. He slumps against the seat and tries to sprawl out a little, letting his body sit loose and comfortable—or, as loose and comfortable as he can manage in the cramped front seat. He tips his head against the headrest and takes another breath.

“When we first met, I tried to knock him out,” Mox says after a moment. Yuta’s brow furrows at the seeming non sequitur. He tilts his head to look at Mox, who’s looking at the road with a wry smile. He turns it on Yuta, eyes shining.

It takes Yuta a second to respond. “Why?” He asks, not sure what kind of answer he’s going to get. Knowing Mox, there could be any number of reasons, ranging from legitimate to ludicrous. This seems to land somewhere in the middle.

“I was really into him, but I didn’t realize that’s what it was, so I thought I just wanted to fight him. Took a swing at him and he pinned me to the wall. I got so hard I almost passed out.” Mox chuckles, flicking his burnt out cigarette out the window. He doesn’t reach for the pack sitting on the center console.

Yuta huffs out a laugh. Yeah, that sounds about right. He doesn’t really know why Mox is telling him this, or how he’s supposed to respond, so he just sits there awkwardly.

After a moment, Mox sighs. “Look, my point is, everyone’s nervous around Claudio in the beginning. Fucking look at the guy. He’s not the stereotypical popular meathead everyone expects, though. He doesn’t care about cliques or reputations or any of that bullshit. If he likes you, he likes you. Simple as that.” He shrugs, pointedly not looking at Yuta.

Yuta weighs it over in his head for a moment. “I just…” He mumbles the rest of his sentence under his breath, fidgeting with his fingers again.

Mox laughs, only a little unkindly. “Can’t hear you, kid. Try again.” He says, finally looking over. Yuta has to fight the urge to tell him to look at the road until he notices they’re stopped at a light.

Yuta squirms. “I just want him to like me.” He mutters, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Thankfully, Mox doesn’t laugh—he’s able to read Yuta shockingly easily, and he knows when to back off with the poking and prodding. Whether he does so remains to be seen for each interaction.

“Oh, he likes you, alright.” Mox cryptically mumbles under his breath. Yuta looks him over. He seems relaxed, body loose and easy like it always is. His hair is pulled into a curly ponytail, some already falling to frame his face. His tank top is threadbare and well loved, and his shorts are just short enough to reveal the pen drawing halfway up his thigh. He looks good, is the thing, and Yuta hates that.

“How ‘bout this. If you get too worked up over anything, just let me know and I’ll blow you in the bathroom.” Mox offers with a sleazy grin. Yuta’s answering squawk is only a little indignant.

Yuta doesn’t know if it’s possible to die from being too horny, but if it is, his life is about to end.

It’s not just watching sweaty men in singlets writhing around together—though, admittedly, that is a big part of it. It’s Mox sitting next to him, so close they’re pressed together from shoulder to wrist. Mox keeps whispering in his ear, mostly just running his mouth because he’s incapable of being quiet, but every now and then he has some actual insight into what they’re watching. Yuta’s never watched wrestling before—at least, not this kind of wrestling. He’s seen the stuff on TV, which he concedes is more alluring than he’d like to admit, but amateur wrestling is new to him. It doesn’t seem new to Mox, and Yuta credits that to having been friends with Claudio for so long.

Claudio’s match is about halfway through the day. His singlet is a deep maroon and mouth-wateringly tight. His top lip is pushed out, and Yuta sees it’s because of a black mouth guard when he spots Mox and Yuta and smiles at them. A thick green strap circles his ankle. Yuta watches as he takes his starting position across the mat from a tow-headed man with a few dark tattoos on his arm and hand. Yuta can’t keep his eyes off the tense line of Claudio’s arms as he brings them in front of him, nor the flex of his thighs as he hunkers down into a slight squat.

Yuta feels like he can’t catch his breath through the entire match. The first round feels like it passes quicker than that of the day’s other matches, nothing but a blur of tan, sweaty skin. Yuta knows he’s half hard, but he can’t focus on it, too caught up in the stretch of Claudio’s muscles beneath his flesh. Mox’s hand rests on his knee like a brand, fingers digging in deep around the edges of his kneecap.

The second round starts with Claudio’s opponent on his hands and knees, Claudio practically mounting him from behind. Yuta can’t hide the quick, sharp inhale he pulls, throat working against the compulsive flood of saliva from under his tongue. Mox chuckles directly into his ear, low and breathy, though he doesn’t say anything.

The match is over almost as soon as the round starts. After a quick moment of squirming and grappling, Claudio gets his opponent in a hold that involves folding the blonde nearly in half, one arm hooked under his thigh and the other around his neck. He grinds his knee deep into the man’s back, causing a wet gasp to fall from the blonde’s thick lips. Claudio shifts his weight and rolls him onto his back, shoulders pressed flat to the mat as he wriggles in Claudio’s grasp.

Claudio releases his grip and backs away as the referee calls the match, letting the man sprawl onto the mat. He’s grinning around his mouth guard, chest heaving underneath his singlet. Yuta can’t decide if he’d rather look at the solid weight of his pecs as he breathes or the heavy line of his cock through the lycra. He barely has time to take in the heady darkness in Claudio’s eyes as he looks at them before Mox is gripping his thigh and hissing, “Bathroom, now,” into Yuta’s ear. Yuta nods without looking away.

Mox all but drags him to the nearest bathroom, which is, blessedly, a unisex single-stall. He shoves Yuta inside and locks the door before shoving Yuta up against the sink. Yuta yelps as the porcelain digs into his back as Mox kisses him desperately. He likes to think he’s learned how to hold his own against Mox, that he knows how to give as good as he gets, but Mox is in rare form right now, overwhelming and overpowering. He shoves his tongue down Yuta’s throat and moans, digging his rough nails into the back of Yuta’s neck as he grips the sides of his throat.

Mox pulls back with a gasp once he can’t go without air for any longer, mouth hanging red and wet as he pants against Yuta’s mouth. His eyes are already glassy and wide, pupils blown so big that Yuta can barely see the pale blue of his iris. “Fuck, the cradle always gets me. And they started in referee position, too,” He moans, dragging the bulge of his cock against the dip of Yuta’s hip. Yuta grips his hips hard just to have something to hang onto. “He put me in a cradle, once,” He breathes, burying his face in Yuta’s neck, “And I think I saw God.” He sounds like he’s confessing something. His breath is wet and hot against Yuta’s pulse point, his nose cold and hard as he digs it into the line where Yuta’s beard meets his skin.

“Fuck.” Yuta wheezes, fingers flexing hard. The image that conjures in his mind is downright obscene. He knows how much Mox gets off on shit like that, on being hurt and held still and tossed around. Mox likes it rough, likes it dangerous, comes the hardest when he’s a little scared. Yuta’s a little too weak to really give him what he wants, but Claudio would have no such issue. Mox is flexible too, especially around his hips, and Yuta’s painfully curious about just how tight Claudio can fold him up. The position would leave him spread open at the legs, vulnerable and on display, ripe for the picking.

“Lemme suck your dick.” Mox groans, punctuating his words by digging his teeth into Yuta’s neck. He clamps down brutally, sucking hard, and Yuta is reminded of a dog sinking its teeth into something’s throat and shaking it until it stops moving. He groans, hips jumping forward, cock chafing against the inside of his boxers. He nods and grabs Mox by the shoulder.

Before he can even start to shove Mox down, he drops to his knees so fast there’s an audible thud. Mox is on him in an instant, pressing his face into Yuta’s crotch and inhaling hard. He rubs his face against Yuta’s erection and huffs, taking in deep, greedy mouthfuls of Yuta’s scent. He shoves Yuta’s jeans and underwear down in one go, letting his cock spring free. It slaps wetly against Yuta’s belly, exposed where Mox’s hands have shoved his shirt up to reveal his abs. Mox buries his face in Yuta’s pubes, groaning as he pants wet and warm against the base of Yuta’s dick.

Yuta shoves his fist into his mouth, biting down as Mox’s tongue slides up his length. Mox’s mouth is wet, slick with more saliva than Yuta thinks is typical. He slathers Yuta’s cock in spit, drooling against his skin as he presses sopping, loose kisses along Yuta’s shaft. Yuta doesn’t know how much time they have, but he suspects it isn’t long, so he grips Mox by the hair and pulls him towards the head of his cock.

Mox moans at the rough treatment, muffling the sound halfway through by stuffing Yuta’s cock into his mouth. He sinks down hard and fast, forcing past his gag reflex to pull Yuta’s cock into the tight clutch of his throat. Yuta makes a strangled noise and yanks on Mox’s hair as his arm twitches violently. He can feel Mox’s groan around the head of his cock.

It’s once again up to Yuta to move things along; Mox seems more than content to just sit there with Yuta’s cock down his throat until he suffocates, throat working as he swallows reflexively. He drags Mox up his dick before drawing him back down, hips pushing forward to meet the movement. Mox tries to moan, but the sound gets tangled up between his tonsils as Yuta bullies his way into Mox’s throat. Yuta doesn’t have to look to know how hard Mox is, but he does anyway. Mox’s dick is straining against his shorts, the shape obvious enough that Yuta can tell he’s not wearing anything underneath the thin cotton.

On instinct, Yuta tilts one of his boots up and presses the ball of his foot against Mox’s cock. A punched out sound rips its way out of Mox’s chest, gurgling and sudden. He humps his hips forward, dragging his dick against the rough treads. Yuta pushes down harder without thinking, giving Mox more friction and probably just a little bit of pain. Mox is whining, a high, animal sound that leaks around Yuta’s cock every time it slides from his throat.

“Fuck, you better get me off quick. We don’t wanna get caught.” Yuta bites out, forcing Mox down his cock again. Mox’s answering sob vibrates around Yuta’s cock, ripping free a groan of his own. Yuta feels like a man possessed, hips snapping roughly as he shoves Mox’s head down, spurred on by the choking burble of Mox’s throat. Tears run down Mox’s face, eyes red and unfocused as he stares up at Yuta. His face is getting flushed, deeper and deeper every time Yuta pushes him down and holds him there, throat rippling as he tries to breathe against Yuta’s stomach, nostrils flaring.

Yuta fucks his face frantically, trying to come as fast as he can. He’s learned over the past few weeks that he likes the risk of getting caught, likes having to be quiet and rushed and furtive. Part of him wishes this wasn’t how his first time in Mox’s mouth went, but a much larger portion of him is thrilled at being required to use Mox as a tool to get off quickly. He can feel his abs clenching, muscles drawing tighter and tighter as the knot in his pelvis winds. Eventually it snaps, forcing a wounded noise from his throat as he spills straight down Mox’s throat. Mox swallows it all, throat practically milking Yuta’s cock. He slumps against the sink, breathing hard, as he finally releases his grip on Mox’s hair. He moves his foot back onto solid ground, needing the support underneath his wobbly, weak legs.

Mox makes an unhappy noise, letting Yuta’s spent dick fall from his lips. “Fuck, I didn’t come.” He whines, hips working against nothing. He’s red-faced and tear-streaked, drool and snot covering the bottom half of his face. His voice is a rough, gravelly rasp that seems to scrape its way out of his throat, raw and aching. His hair is a mess, most of it pulled free from the hair tie barely hanging on. His erection is painfully obvious, tenting his shorts, and Yuta has no doubt that if they were a lighter color, he’d be seeing a wet spot. In short, it’s impossible to look at him and not know exactly what he’s been doing.

“Not my problem.” Yuta pants, hitching his jeans back around his hips. He scrubs a hand down his face and tips his head to look at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. His heart is jackrabbiting in his chest, beating so hard he can feel it in the hollow of his throat. Eventually, he’s able to push away from the sink, walking over to the door. He doesn’t leave, just rests against it, looking at Mox still kneeling on the floor.

“Hurry and clean yourself up. We have to get back.” He says, snickering at the dirty look Mox shoots him. He watches as Mox staggers to his feet, gripping the edge of the sink like it’s a lifeline. Mox splashes water on his face and dries it with a few paper towels before starting on his hair, grumbling all the while. He pulls out his hair tie and combs his fingers through, trying to tame the worst of his tangles. He quickly braids it, fingers trembling as he works the strands together. It isn’t anywhere near perfect—in fact, it’s barely passable—but it doesn’t take him long until it’s all gathered behind him, braid falling down the long line of his neck. He adjusts himself in his shorts until his hard-on is only a little obvious, which is probably the best he can manage while going commando. He turns to Yuta with a glare.

“Happy now?” He snaps, digging his nails into his palms. Yuta’s almost worried Mox is gonna take a swing at him, but he’s got a good enough read on him to think he’s safe. Probably. He grins back.

“Oh, I’m thrilled.” Yuta chirps, blowing Mox a mocking kiss. Mox’s face darkens as he takes a large step forward, brow furrowing as his mouth pinches. Yuta’s heart kicks in his chest as he opens the door quickly before stepping out into the hall. Thankfully it’s deserted, so it doesn’t matter that Mox follows him out hot on his heels.

“You’re lucky we’re in public and I don’t feel like getting kicked off campus by security,” Mox grumbles, digging a knuckle into the base of Yuta’s spine. Yuta squirms away, swatting Mox’s hand as he rolls his eyes.

They make their way back to the gymnasium, where Claudio is waiting by the door. He’s traded his singlet for a white v-neck and a pair of black jeans, both of which are pulled tight across the mass of his muscles. His gym bag is resting on the ground next to where he stands, leaning back against the wall. The fold of his arms across his chest pushes his pecs together and highlights the bulge of his biceps, his forearms corded with thick muscle. He’s grinning, eyes shining under the fluorescent lights.

“I see you two have been having fun.” He says, pushing himself off the wall. He bends to grab his bag, shoulders bunching under the thin fabric of his shirt. Yuta hasn’t been able to stop staring, but his wide eyes snap up to Claudio’s face as his words sink in.

“What do you mean?” He squeaks out, voice a little strangled. He clears his throat and tries to school his face into something a little less panicked, but if Claudio’s rich laugh is anything to go by, it doesn’t work.

When they reach each other, Claudio falls in line with them, Yuta sandwiched in the middle. Mox tosses an arm around his shoulders as Claudio leans in. “You act like I don’t know what Jon looks like when he’s been sucking cock.” He murmurs it like a secret, lips spread wide, eyes twinkling with mirth. Yuta shivers at the way his tongue curls around the word cock, at the way his accent forms the phonemes.

“Um.” Yuta trips over his own feet for a moment. “Look, I know it’s fucked up, but—” He’s just about to start rambling, to start rationalizing the sick coil in his stomach, but Claudio just laughs and squeezes the back of his neck. His hand is massive, fingers curling around the sides of Yuta’s throat.

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, häschen. I know just how alluring Jon can be.” His breath is hot against the shell of Yuta’s ear, and Yuta swears he can feel the curl of his lips against his skin. He wonders what the German word means; he wonders if it’s a good thing. The way Claudio says it implies that it is, but Yuta can’t get a good enough read on him to be sure. Being this close to him, Yuta can tell he hasn’t showered, his skin warm and tacky against Yuta’s. The smell is thick, curling through Yuta’s nose every time he breathes. He feels lightheaded.

Yuta nods numbly, tongue thick and unwieldy in his mouth. He lets Mox and Claudio’s conversation flow over him, his nerves shimmering every time Claudio brushes against him. He jolts when Mox slides his hand into his back pocket, but when he looks over, Mox just fixes him with a sleazy grin. Yuta can feel himself flushing red, ducking his head to hopefully hide it. Claudio’s hand is still on the nape of his neck, almost like he’s leading him.

Yuta nearly stumbles into Mox’s car, so wrapped up in the sheer sensations around him that he doesn’t notice them coming to a stop. Mox groans and tosses his head back, squinting at the sky. “You’re really not gonna give us a ride?” He asks, rolling his head on his shoulders to look at Claudio with cloying eyes.

Claudio chuckles. “You have your car to worry about, haustier. Just because it’s a piece of shit doesn’t mean people won’t mess with it.” He scruffs Mox, pulling him in until their foreheads and noses touch; the movement means Claudio has to hunch, and the strong curve of his back steals Yuta’s breath away. “Besides,” Claudio says, releasing Mox from his grip, “You know the way.” He pats Mox on the cheek twice—honestly, they’re more like pulled slaps—as he takes a step back.

Blinking a few times, Mox nods, swaying a little. He seems stunned, mouth open as he gulps down air. It’s fascinating to see someone else’s reaction to Claudio like this, to see someone else look as affected as Yuta feels. Mox fumbles with his keys until he gets the door unlocked, nearly dropping them in his stupor. Yuta starts to round the car towards the passenger side when Claudio catches him by the chin.

“I will see you at home, häschen.” He tugs lightly on Yuta’s chin, which pulls his lower lip away from his bottom teeth. Yuta sucks in a breath and swallows reflexively as saliva floods his mouth. For a second, he thinks Claudio might be about to kiss him, bent down just enough to get them at eye level with each other. He wants to look down at Claudio’s mouth, but it’s like he’s under a spell, unable to look away from the depths of his warm, dark eyes.

Drawing himself back to his full height, Claudio smiles. “Drive safe.” He points a finger at Mox, face stern. Mox grins and gives a sloppy salute, seemingly back to his usual smartass self. Yuta ducks into the car with a rushed goodbye to Claudio, taking a deep breath as he sinks into the seat. He stares at the dashboard as Mox drops his weight into the car.

“Is he always like that?” Yuta asks as they start to pull out of the parking lot. Mox has a possessive hand high on Yuta’s thigh, fingers digging into his inseam. Even though he just came no more than ten minutes ago, Yuta’s half-hard again, Mox’s knuckles just barely brushing his erection. Mox laughs.

“Wrestling always gets him in a mood.” Mox sighs happily. “He’s gonna have fun with you.” He looks at Yuta, teeth bared in a grin that feels more than a little like Yuta’s a hunk of meat in front of a wolf.

Yuta’s brow furrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He gulps, voice thinner than he’d like, quiet in the back of his throat. He sounds as uncertain as he feels, unmoored and shaky. Mox can’t be implying what Yuta thinks he’s implying. There’s no way. Right?

Mox pats his thigh twice. “You’ll find out soon enough,” is the only answer he gives before turning back to the road, letting Yuta simmer in his own thoughts for the rest of the drive.

Claudio’s apartment is nice, if a little cramped.

Yuta doesn’t know why, but he’s expecting something...different? More? It seems a little quaint, though that may just be because of the way Yuta has built Claudio up in his head. He and Mox arrive first, and he stands awkwardly outside of what he assumes is Claudio’s apartment while Mox smokes. It doesn’t take long for Claudio to arrive, but those few minutes feel like hours. Yuta’s eyes get very well acquainted with the scuffed toe of his boot.

Claudio unlocks the door and gestures for them to enter. Mox goes to do so, only to get stopped by a hand planted firmly on his chest. “Put the cigarette out.” Claudio’s voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. Mox rolls his eyes and makes a show of stamping it out, but Yuta doesn’t miss the slight tremble to his inhale. Yuta blinks hard at the wave of arousal that floods his body at Claudio’s tone. Claudio looks Mox over until he squirms. He nods once and removes his hand, replacing it on Mox’s back to usher him inside with a slight push that makes Mox stumble. He places the same hand on Yuta’s back, but it’s guiding, gentle, as he leads Yuta inside.

Mox flops onto the leather couch, limbs sprawling out as he sighs. Claudio rolls his eyes and shoves his feet off the couch before sitting next to him. He mutters something in German that Yuta doesn’t catch and likely wouldn’t understand, but Mox must be used to hearing it because he snorts in response and tosses his feet into Claudio’s lap. Yuta stands in the doorway uncertainly, shifting his weight from side to side. He doesn’t know what his place is here.

It doesn’t take long for Claudio to look at him with kind eyes. “Come, häschen, sit. Don’t mind Jon.” He says softly, adjusting his weight to make more room for Yuta. He walks over and gingerly sits down, incredibly aware of the way his body presses against Claudio’s in the slightly cramped space. The sofa isn’t terribly small, but Claudio is by no means a small man, and Mox has enough mass to him to take up space even without the way he’s spread out. Yuta’s lankiness doesn’t help either, the awkward length of his limbs making it hard to fold himself as small as he wants.

The hand that lands on Yuta’s knee is hot even through his jeans, and it startles a noise out of Yuta that sounds suspiciously like a squeak. Claudio smiles at him, thumb rubbing the ridge of his kneecap. “Relax,” He says gently, “There’s no need to be nervous.” His voice is so calming, so steady, that Yuta feels his body start to unspool a little. He nods and smiles back nervously.

Claudio reaches for the coffee table, picking up the remote and turning the TV on. He hands it off to Mox, who immediately starts flipping through channels. Yuta raises an eyebrow despite himself. “Bold choice, giving him the remote.” He says, flushing a little when Claudio laughs.

“He gets fidgety if he isn’t in control of it. You know how he is.” Claudio responds with a shrug. Yuta can’t keep his eyes off the way Claudio’s hand rests on Mox’s ankle, proprietary in the way his thumb circles the bone jutting from the inside of Mox’s leg. Yuta swallows thickly. He doesn’t know, not really; he doesn’t spend a lot of downtime around Mox, usually spending their time together running around town or getting each other off. He nods anyway.

Claudio starts chatting with Yuta, his quiet voice still strong over the sound of whatever dumb action movie Mox settles on. He carries most of the conversation without complaint, seemingly content to let Yuta find his footing. Yuta learns a lot about him: he moved to the States when he was fifteen because of his father’s work, so he’s been here for six years; he works at a local coffee shop during the week and volunteers his time at the campus library when he can; he speaks five languages (“Six, if you count wrestling,” he jokes, and Yuta laughs even though it isn’t funny); and his favorite color is green. Yuta offers what information about himself that he can whenever Claudio asks, but he can’t help but feel a little inadequate; he knows he isn’t exactly the most interesting guy. It’s through no fault of Claudio’s—he’s nothing but warm and welcoming and interested in Yuta, which is a head-trip in and of itself.

Yuta is painfully aware of the way Claudio’s hand slowly creeps higher and higher up Mox’s leg as they talk. It starts around Mox’s ankle before slowly drifting up to absently massage the curve of his calf, driving quiet noises out of Mox whenever he digs into a particularly sensitive spot. He caresses Mox’s knee much the same way he’s caressing Yuta’s, except Mox gets to feel skin on skin in a way Yuta finds himself craving. Before long, Claudio’s hand is curled around Mox’s thigh, fingers wrapping into the space between them. Mox spreads his legs, dropping one off the couch to give Claudio more room.

“You’re staring.” Claudio’s voice is amused and warm, his shoulder dipping down to bump against Yuta’s. Yuta jumps. He manages to tear his eyes away as he stammers out an apology, though it takes more effort than he’d like to admit. He can feel the blush burning across his cheeks, only half-hidden by his beard.

Claudio’s hand leaves his knee to gently catch him under the chin, tilting his ducked head up to meet Claudio’s eyes. “It’s okay, häschen. I know how easy it is to get lost in him.” He says, his smile growing fond. Yuta swallows hard.

“It’s—not just him.” Yuta whispers, cracked in half and aching. He wets his lips, hyper-aware of how Claudio’s dark eyes drop to track the movement. He can’t pull his eyes away from Claudio’s, even as Mox makes a punched out sound from next to them. Claudio breaks eye contact first, turning his head to look at Mox. Yuta follows him and promptly chokes on his tongue.

Mox is flushed red down to his chest, visible even through his thin white tank top. His eyes are half-lidded as he stares back at them, gaze flicking between Claudio and Yuta restlessly. The left leg of his shorts is shoved up, bunching around Claudio’s wrist. Claudio’s hand is firmly wrapped around Mox’s cock, pushing against the fabric of Mox’s shorts. Yuta stares so hard his eyes burn.

“Quiet, haustier. Yuta and I are talking.” Claudio scolds before turning back to Yuta. Mox whines, high and wounded in the back of his throat. The sound bleeds into a pained whimper as Claudio’s grip tightens. Claudio’s other hand once again pulls Yuta back to look at him, head tilted to the side just slightly. He looks assessing, like he’s trying to gauge Yuta’s reaction.

“Would you like to share him?” Claudio asks, careful and quiet. Yuta blinks at him a few times.

“What?” There’s no way Yuta is interpreting that right. Maybe he didn’t even hear Claudio right, his brain too busy skipping like a broken record at the visual in front of him. There’s no—what?

Claudio just smiles patiently. “He’s an awful lot for one person to handle,” His voice is a quiet murmur, almost like it’s just for Yuta, “And I can see you didn’t wear him out earlier. I can show you how to make him heel.” Mox moans, shuddery and choked, beside them. Claudio sounds eager, like this is something he greatly desires.

Yuta feels a little like he’s just run a marathon. He finds himself nodding, throat working hard as he gulps down the saliva filling his mouth. His eyes drift back to Mox, who has his head thrown back, but he doesn’t miss the way Claudio’s cautious smile blooms into a full blown grin. Yuta’s fingers itch, restless and burning in his lap. He wants to—to touch, to taste, to do something, but he feels locked in place.

“Can I kiss you?” Claudio’s voice is petal soft. Despite his calming tone, Yuta feels like someone’s holding a blowtorch to the back of his head as he registers the words. He’s nodding before he even realizes it, eyes locked on Claudio’s mouth as it curves into a gentler smile.

The hand on Yuta’s chin pulls him in, though it stops him just a scant few inches from Claudio’s face. His thumb comes up to gently trace Yuta’s bottom lip, pulling it away from his lower incisors. Yuta’s mouth hangs open as he pants, saliva pooling behind his teeth. He has to swallow hard to keep from drooling. “Beautiful,” Claudio murmurs, dragging the callus on his thumb across the chapped swell of Yuta’s lip.

Claudio’s lips are soft, plush and warm against Yuta’s. He doesn’t deepen the kiss immediately, just presses his mouth softly against Yuta’s like he’s trying to let Yuta get acclimated. Yuta’s heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his fingertips, fingers flexing in his lap as he breathes hard through his nose. After a moment, Claudio withdraws, but he’s back just as quickly, this time tracing his tongue across the seam of Yuta’s lips.

Yuta makes a breathless noise, lips falling open to let Claudio in. The older man carefully strokes his tongue along Yuta’s, humming at whatever taste he finds there. He licks the roof of Yuta’s mouth, startling a moan out of him. Claudio’s hand on his chin becomes a hand palming the back of Yuta’s head, angling him into whatever position Claudio deems fit. His other hand rests on Yuta’s thigh, a burning point of contact that seems to spread through Yuta’s entire body.

Yuta doesn’t know how long they kiss, but he breaks away when Mox lets out a loud groan from behind Claudio. He genuinely forgot Mox was even here, too wrapped up in the gentle way Claudio was taking him apart, one movement of his lips at a time. Yuta’s mouth feels hot, his panting breaths cool against the saliva coating his lips. His cheeks feel like they’ve been rubbed raw from Claudio’s stubble. He stares at Mox sightlessly for a second before his eyes focus.

Mox has his cock out, one hand wrapped around it as he watches. “Fuck, that’s a pretty picture,” Mox says with a grin, giving himself one slow stroke. His face looks just as flushed as Yuta’s feels, his pretty skin turned red as he breathes heavily.

The loud crack of skin against skin rings through the air, sharp and startling. Yuta stares at Claudio’s hand on Mox’s thigh, breath hitching when his hand moves to reveal a stinging pink handprint beginning to bloom against Mox’s pale skin. Mox jumps and moans like it’s been shocked out of him, cock twitching in his hand.

“Fuck, C,” Mox hisses, thighs flexing as he ruts against his hand. Claudio slaps his leg again, and this time, it sounds even louder, like he’s hit harder. Mox makes a beautiful noise, punched out and whimpered.

“Did I say you could touch?” Claudio asks, one brow raised in a graceful arch. Mox swallows hard, throat bobbing, as he slowly shakes his head. His hand stills but doesn’t release his cock. “He needs a firm hand. He needs rules, direction. You have to be strict with him if you hope to have him behave.” It takes a second for Yuta to realize Claudio is talking to him, too wrapped up in the way Claudio rubs his hand in large, soothing swipes across the reddened expanse of Mox’s plush thigh. He nods even though Claudio isn’t looking at him.

“Up, haustier.” Claudio snaps his fingers, sharp and clear in the tense air. Mox is moving almost before Claudio has finished speaking, legs moving clumsily as he clambers into Claudio’s lap, the older man shifting to rest against the back of the couch. Mox settles his weight, hands coming to rest on Claudio’s shoulders for balance. His gaze is glued to Claudio’s face, and it even looks like he’s making eye contact. Yuta’s fascinated. “Good dog,” Claudio practically purrs, circling his hands around Mox’s waist. His hands are so big they nearly touch, fingers spanning the narrow dip of Mox’s waist like it’s nothing. Yuta chokes on his own spit.

Fuck.

Mox’s hips are hitching in restless little movements, half-aborted like he’s trying to stay still but failing. He’s panting, chest heaving as he stares at Claudio. There’s a tense moment of silence as Claudio just looks at Mox, eyes scanning his face. “Shirt. Off.” Claudio finally says with a curt nod. Mox scrambles to obey, yanking off his tank top so quickly that Yuta’s certain he’s stretched out the hem. His chest is flushed red, nipples pebbled and hard in the cool air.

Claudio smooths his hands up Mox’s ribcage, feeling the rapid, uneven way it expands as Mox breathes. His hands look massive, even compared to Mox’s wide torso, his tan standing out against Mox’s pale skin. Yuta can’t stop staring at the hair on the back of his hand or the wrinkled knobs of his knuckles. Claudio has beautiful hands, large and dignified. Yuta wants to feel them on his own body. His own hands stay firmly in his lap.

Claudio thumbs across Mox’s nipples, a quick, broad pass that can’t feel like much at all, if anything. Mox still jolts like he’s been electrocuted, stomach spasming before he returns to his straight-backed posture. Claudio keeps it up, applying more and more pressure with each sweeping pass of his thumbs. Eventually, he releases his grip on Mox’s ribcage, bringing his fingers up to pinch the bud of Mox’s nipple between the side of his forefinger and the pad of his thumb.

Mox cries out, back bowing away from the sensation. The movement causes Claudio to tug sharply on his nipple, which shocks another loud noise from Mox’s mouth. Mox keeps leaning back like he’s trying to get it to hurt more, pulling against Claudio’s steady grip on his body. His right hand leaves Claudio’s shoulder to fist his cock, pulling it free from his shorts. He only gets two hasty strokes in before Claudio bats his hand away.

“Hands off. This is mine,” Claudio says matter of factly, replacing Mox’s hand with his own. Yuta can’t bite back the gasp that builds in his chest—Claudio’s hand is so large that Mox’s cock disappears in his grip. Yuta feels a stab of arousal so sharp it aches in the pit of his stomach. His own hand is significantly smaller, now that he has a point of reference—he can cover most of Mox’s length, but his girth is so considerable that Yuta’s fingers barely touch when he wraps them around Mox. Claudio has no such issue, completely enveloping Mox’s cock like it’s nothing.

The tendons on the back of Claudio’s hand flex as he tightens his grip, startling a loud, pained cry out of Mox. Yuta’s own cock aches in sympathy. Claudio gives one sharp tug, wrist snapping upwards as he jerks Mox’s cock hard, still maintaining the brutal grip. Mox convulses, choking on nothing as he tries to school his body back into his stiff posture.

“Is this what you want?” Claudio’s voice sounds almost dangerous, low and dark in his chest as he stares Mox down impassively. Mox can’t seem to decide on a response, too busy trying to still his hitching hips, alternating between pushing into Claudio’s grip and drawing away from it. He’s whining like an animal, sharp little noises that catch every time he pulls air into his lungs. His nostrils are flaring as he tries to control his breathing.

After a long moment, Claudio releases Mox’s cock. The tender flesh is an angry red, smeared with precome, veins more prominent than usual. His balls are drawn up tight against his body like they’re trying to retreat into him. Mox sobs, chest shuddering on a shaky exhale. He gets only a moment’s respite before Claudio smacks his cock with an open hand, causing it to slap against Mox’s tensed stomach. Yuta’s cock twitches so violently it hurts. “On the floor. Hands and knees.”

Mox slides off Claudio’s lap shakily, limbs moving awkwardly like he isn’t fully in control of them. He settles on his hands and knees, fingers curling against the carpet. He arches his back slightly, highlighting the curve of his spine and the swell of his ass underneath his thin shorts. Claudio kneels behind him, drawing Mox’s shorts down his long legs to pool around his knees. He smooths a large hand across Mox’s ass before drawing back, hitting Mox hard enough that he jolts forward.

“Pain settles him. It makes him pliant and obedient.” Claudio looks away from Mox to level his eyes on Yuta, his stern face cracking into a playful smile. “He can be a good dog when he wants to be.” His eyes twinkle, a low laugh bubbling in his chest when Mox whimpers. “Come, you can have his mouth,” Claudio says, gesturing toward Mox’s head.

Yuta gulps, hands shaking violently as he stands. He watches as Claudio reaches into one of the drawers of the coffee table, retrieving a half empty bottle of lube. He pops the cap and drizzles some on his hand, liberally slicking up two fingers. “Um.” Yuta makes an uncertain noise as Claudio’s fingers press against Mox’s hole.

Claudio looks up at him. “Yes?” He asks placidly. Yuta gets distracted watching the way Claudio’s fingers continue to pet Mox’s hole in gentle, almost teasing circles. Claudio’s cool composure is only belied by the jut of his cock against the zipper of his pants, and if Yuta looks hard enough, there may even be a slight tint to his strong cheeks.

“Can I watch?” Yuta rushes out, tongue clumsy and heavy in his mouth. He’s salivating, swallowing reflexively as spit starts to slide towards the back of his tongue. He almost misses Claudio’s pleased smile, too caught up in watching Mox’s hole clench around nothing.

“Of course, häschen. I assume you have experience in this area?” Claudio asks, shifting on his knees to allow Yuta more room to kneel next to him. Yuta practically crumples, falling to his knees like his strings have been cut. He can’t look away from how massive Claudio’s fingers look compared to Mox’s hole.

Yuta shrugs. “Kinda? Most of the time he does it himself.” He mumbles, face flushing further. He bites the inside of his lip and fights the urge to cower under Claudio’s curious gaze.

Claudio rumbles out a laugh. “He is very particular,” He allows, sounding almost painfully fond, “But this is still a good lesson to have. He does not require much preparation.” Yuta almost misses what Claudio says, hyper-focused on the slow slide of Claudio’s middle finger into Mox. He gets halfway down before he draws back to the tip, slowly fucking his finger into Mox in short strokes until he’s buried down to the knuckle. “He likes it to stretch and sting, and he gets impatient if you take too long getting him ready.” He must do something with his finger, because Mox jolts.

As if on cue, Mox makes a frustrated sound and pushes back against Claudio’s hand, swearing under his breath. Claudio doesn’t even blink, slapping Mox hard with his free hand. “I admit, pain is not a good deterrent for him, but it does get his attention.” Something about the way Claudio talks about Mox like he isn’t even there, like Mox truly is an unruly animal who can’t understand what his owner is saying, makes Yuta so hot under the collar that he feels his back prickling with sweat. He hesitates for a second before hastily pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it back onto the couch behind him. Claudio’s gaze raking across his torso appreciatively feels like a physical thing.

“Depending on the partner, I would usually use three or four fingers, but he knows how to take me like this.” Claudio pulls his finger out and replaces it with two, hooking them as he slides them in. Yuta watches the tendons in his wrist flex as he rolls his wrist forward, pushing with more force than before. It’s slower going with two fingers, and Claudio uses the entire time he works them in to start to stretch Mox, spreading his fingers against the tight clutch of muscle. Yuta’s fingers burn.

“Can I touch?” He asks, voice hushed and breathless. His fingers twitch and he clenches his hands into fists. Claudio laughs, warm and rich, pleased like Yuta’s just done a trick for him.

“He is ours to play with, häschen. Do what you like. He certainly won’t complain.” Claudio says it so confidently that Yuta’s mouth waters. He reaches in with a shaky hand, settling his palm against the curve of Mox’s ass. Carefully, he traces a finger around where Mox is stretched around Claudio’s fingers. He looks like he’s stretched around the same width as Yuta’s cock, and that makes Yuta so hard he nearly swoons. Mox’s hole is hot and tense, resisting when Yuta pushes with his fingertip. He keeps up the pressure until the tip slides in, Yuta’s finger pressed tight against Claudio’s. Mox moans, arms shaking under him.

Claudio starts to slowly withdraw his fingers, and Yuta finds himself following the motion. Together, they push back in, and Yuta feels Claudio curling his fingers to feel for Mox’s prostate. He finds it easily, chuckling when Mox twitches around them. “It’s fun to tease him, if he has the patience for it,” Claudio pets with his fingers again, “But today, we shouldn’t test him. I have plans.” Claudio pulls his fingers out, and Yuta hastily does so as well, his finger catching on Mox’s rim.

Yuta watches dumbly as Claudio unzips his pants and frees his cock. He is, quite frankly, massive. Claudio is a big guy, in every sense of the word, but his cock feels almost disproportionately large. He’s thick and long and veiny, uncut and flushed with blood. He slicks himself up perfunctorily, his foreskin sliding back as he does so. Yuta’s mouth waters. He presses the swollen head against Mox’s hole. “Breathe, haustier,” He cautions before he starts to push in.

It’s slow going. Mox whimpers the whole time, fingers clenching on the carpet so hard that Yuta’s knuckles hurt just watching. His thighs are hard lines of tension, trembling as Claudio slowly but steadily forces his way inside. Halfway down, Mox gasps wetly, arms collapsing under him. He crumples to his elbows, face mashed into the carpet, mouth hanging open. “Fuck, it’s too much, I can’t.” He whines, eyes scrunching shut.

“You can,” Claudio says, voice unaffected. He sounds like he’s talking about the weather, not shoving his massive cock into a barely stretched hole. Mox’s hole is an almost angry red, pulled taut like he’s about to rip. Yuta wishes his cock didn’t twitch at the thought.

Eventually, Claudio’s hips are flush with Mox’s, his fingers petting soothingly down the line of Mox’s spine. He shushes Mox like he’s calming a spooked animal, hand drawing down to pet his flank. “You’re okay, haustier. Just breathe.” He murmurs, voice soft and comforting.

Mox is still making wounded, animal noises, panting open-mouthed against the carpet. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, barely blinking as he draws in shuddered, shallow breaths. Yuta’s concern must show on his face because Claudio looks at him for a moment and says, “He’s fine. He always gets like this at first. Give him a minute to acclimate and he’ll be begging for it like a whore.” His mouth curls into a filthy smile. “Why don’t you distract him by giving him something to occupy his mouth,” Claudio offers amicably, nodding towards Mox’s head.

Yuta shuffles over on instinct, kneeling on either side of Mox’s head. He scratches the back of Mox’s scalp, trying to offer some modicum of comfort. Mox keens and pushes into his hand, grinding his face against the floor. He’s going to have carpet burn on his face later, and Yuta just knows he’s going to be listening to Mox complain about it for hours. He’d roll his eyes if he wasn’t so panicked.

He carefully lifts Mox’s head, cradling his chin in his hand. Mox blinks up at him, slow and sticky like he’s looking through molasses. The fucked-out, vacant look in Mox’s eyes shoots down Yuta’s spine like a shot of adrenaline.

“Pull his hair.” It isn’t exactly an order, more like a strongly worded suggestion, but Yuta thoughtlessly obeys anyway. He digs his hand into Mox’s hair and yanks him onto his hands and knees, startling a quiet noise out of Mox. His gaze sharpens just a little as he pants.

Yuta gropes for his button and zipper one-handed, unwilling to pull the other from Mox’s hair. He manages to get his cock out with minimal fumbling, nearly biting his tongue in half once he finally gets a hand around himself. It’s been no more than a few hours since he came down Mox’s throat in the bathroom, but he’s so hard it feels like he hasn’t come in weeks. He just holds himself in front of Mox’s face for a moment, lost in Mox’s dumb expression and the way he cranes against Yuta’s grip to try and get his mouth on him.

“Swiss,” Mox whines, eyes drooping further. Claudio nods, gripping Mox’s hip tight and drawing back before snapping his hips forward. It punches a moan out of Mox, his hips jerking. His mouth flaps for a second before he whines again, once again fighting to fuck his mouth onto Yuta’s cock. Yuta snaps back to attention and feeds Mox his cock, groaning at the wet heat that envelops him.

Mox’s mouth is sloppy and uncoordinated, tongue undulating in lazy waves against the underside of Yuta’s cock. Yuta presses in until he hits the back of Mox’s throat, unwilling to push Mox when he’s already seemingly at his limits. Mox’s eyes are barely open, hazy and unfocused as they rest on Yuta’s face. Yuta can’t stop staring, eyes burning from the need to blink. He’s loath to do so, unwilling to miss even a second of this. He slowly thrusts against Mox’s face, hissing when Mox’s teeth graze his shaft. He doesn’t hate the sensation, mostly because it shows how out of it Mox is, but he’d rather not get bitten.

“Teeth,” Yuta warns, ignoring how his dick twitches in Mox’s mouth. Mox makes a small noise, almost like he’s apologizing. The vibrations of his vocal chords rumble around Yuta’s dick and he chokes on his tongue at the feeling. Mox’s braid practically functions like a leash, allowing Yuta to use it to pull and push Mox on and off his cock. Every hard thrust from Claudio shoves Mox further forward, bumping Yuta’s cock into his throat. It’s easy to match Claudio’s pace, steady and measured as it is, the two of them making sure Mox is always filled from one or both ends.

Yuta finds his control wavering, and he starts to purposefully push himself into Mox’s throat. Mox groans and almost slumps, spine going loose. Claudio reaches down and catches Mox’s wrists in his hands, pulling on them until Mox’s wrists are crossed behind the small of his back. He sways on his knees, practically suspended between them, held up only by the cocks in him and the hands on him. He sinks further down Yuta’s cock until his face is buried in Yuta’s stomach, snuffling in deep breaths against Yuta’s pubic hair. Yuta can’t smell good, covered in sweat and unshowered for the past two days, but Mox has no compunctions about inhaling his scent like he wants to drown in it.

Claudio lets out quiet little grunts as he fucks Mox like a machine, voice low and ragged. The bastard isn’t even sweating, even as he pounds into Mox so hard that Yuta wonders if Mox’s ass will be red. Claudio’s eyes snap up from where he’d been staring at where he disappears into Mox, locking onto Yuta’s. He grins, just a little too sharp, and Yuta’s cock twitches and drools down Mox’s throat.

“How does he feel, häschen?” Claudio asks conversationally, not even the slightest waver in his voice.

“Fuck,” Yuta wheezes, nearly doubled over Mox’s head. His hips are jerking against Mox’s face, harried, uneven movements driven purely by the pleasure building in his stomach. Claudio laughs, a bright, joyous sound that settles over Yuta like a warm blanket.

“You can fuck him next. Or, you can come in his mouth. It’s up to you.” It almost sounds like Claudio is bargaining with him, like he’s somehow getting something out of the exchange. Hell, maybe he is; Yuta recalls Claudio saying something about having plans. Yuta’s so curious that it isn’t even that difficult to bring his hips to a stop.

Mox whines and shoves his face forward, trying to keep Yuta’s cock in his mouth. Yuta relents, unable to resist the tight, wet heat of Mox’s mouth. He pushes back in, lets Mox rest his forehead against his stomach. Mox’s eyes drift shut, sighing happily as he rubs his face against Yuta’s skin like a content housecat. Yuta’s cock is partway down Mox’s throat, just enough to cause him to breathe heavily through his nose, but Mox seems like he couldn’t care less.

Yuta wishes he had a view of Mox’s cock, curious to see just how much he’s leaking. Mox gets wet, precome practically dripping from his cock when he gets turned on enough. It’s to the point where Yuta, if he has the foresight and time to do so, will put down a towel. He’d feel bad about Claudio’s carpet if he had the braincells left to spare.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but Yuta just lets Mox rest against his stomach, lightly suckling Yuta’s cock like he’s trying to soothe himself. His hands are flexing restlessly behind his back, fingers scrabbling against Claudio’s wrist, accessible from where he’s holding Mox’s own wrists down. His hips jerk, erratic and rhythmless. Claudio has his free hand on Mox’s ass, spreading him open so he has a good view of Mox’s hole. He isn’t looking there, though; he’s staring right at Yuta.

Eventually, Claudio’s hips start to falter, his noises growing louder and more frequent. He comes with a groan, slowly grinding his hips deep against Mox as the muscle of his bicep flexes. After a moment to catch his breath, he pulls out, letting Mox crumple to the floor, unmoored. Mox chokes as the motion changes the angle of Yuta’s cock in his throat, and the rough squeeze of his throat when he gags is almost enough to make Yuta come. Yuta pulls out sharply, catching the ridge of his head on the back of Mox’s top teeth. The pain helps him back away from the edge, but he still needs to squeeze the base of his dick to help calm down.

They all just sit there for a minute, slowly coming down. Mox doesn’t so much as twitch, just lays in a heap on his front as he wheezes. Yuta pets a hand through his hair as he catches his breath, carefully freeing Mox’s hair tie and unwinding his ruined braid. Mox barely even acknowledges that he’s being touched. Claudio seems fine, resting back against the couch with barely even a deepened breath. At one point he pulls his shirt off, arms flexing as he undresses. Yuta can’t help but stare.

After a minute, Claudio looks at Yuta and smiles. “Do you want to fuck him?” He asks, sultry and low. Yuta squirms.

“Is he up for that?” He asks uncomfortably. Mox makes a noise that may be him mumbling something, but it’s too muffled into the carpet for Yuta to tell. Claudio laughs.

“He’s up for anything. He loves getting fucked when he’s like this.” Claudio sounds so fond, full of affection as he gazes down at Mox. Mox shifts for a moment, but it looks like he’s trying to move jello as he tries to move his arms. After a moment, he manages to raise an arm and gives Yuta a thumbs up. Yuta chokes on his laughter.

“Help me roll him over?” Yuta asks Claudio, looking down at Mox with his own affectionate look. Claudio helps him flop Mox onto his back, where his limbs sprawl out around him. He’s so hard he’s nearly purple, straining up to his stomach, and, sure enough, he’s wet enough that it shines in the light. There’s rug burn on his cheek, and his curls are tangled and ratty around his head. He cracks one eye open to blearily stare up at Yuta, mouth tugged into a lazy grin as he spreads his uncoordinated legs. Yuta wishes that didn’t do it for him.

Claudio pushes one of Mox’s legs to his chest, revealing his hole. Yuta stares as come slowly spills out in a lazy rush. He’s fucked-out and sloppy, but thankfully, Yuta has always had an appreciation for things well-loved. He’s practically gaping, so open that Yuta can sink three fingers in with basically no resistance. He quickly replaces them with his dick, too keyed up to bother with being careful. Mox is hot inside, so wet that Yuta feels it in his toes. It’s an easy, effortless glide to the base, so smooth there’s almost no friction. Yuta is used to Mox being tight around him, but having him loose and used like this is just as good—maybe even better, if only for the visual of Mox’s puffy hole leaking come around him.

Every thrust makes a filthy, wet noise that settles low in Yuta’s stomach. He had come down from the edge a little during their break, but it takes no time at all for the beginning of his orgasm to start licking at his heels. He chases it clumsily, hips snapping roughly against Mox despite how much he wants to be gentle. He doesn’t want to seriously hurt Mox, doesn’t want to cause any actual damage, but Mox doesn’t seem to give a shit if the way he’s whining into the crook of his elbow is anything to go by.

Mox gropes around for his dick, barely having the wherewithal to wrap his fingers around himself. He grinds his dick into his hand, not even able to stroke himself more than a few clumsy times before he gives up. He’s clenching around Yuta, but it feels almost like a barely-there flutter of muscles. God, now that Yuta’s had Mox like this, had him stretched out by another man’s cock, filled with another man’s come, he doesn’t think he’ll ever recover.

Mox’s arm falls away from his face and Yuta’s dick kicks inside him. Tears stream down his face as he hiccups out small, broken sobs. Yuta leans down and drags his tongue up Mox’s cheek, licking away his tears. He groans when he tastes them, salty and thin against his tastebuds. He’s so hard he could hammer nails, and that’s before Mox whimpers underneath him. He draws back to his full height.

Mox makes a hell of a picture. His face is flushed and tear-streaked, eyes red and wet and wide. His mouth hangs open and wet, his flesh pink and inviting. Yuta doesn’t even have to think about it before he’s got two fingers shoving into Mox’s mouth to pet the back of Mox’s tongue. He sinks so deep inside that he can feel Mox’s throat convulse when he gags around the intrusion. Yuta strokes the very back of his tongue again and Mox gags so hard Yuta’s almost worried he’s going to throw up.

It doesn’t take long for Yuta’s abs to start burning, both from the ferocity with which he’s fucking Mox and from the delicious build of his orgasm. It takes only a handful of clumsy, frantic strokes before he’s hunching over with a punched-out groan, hips jerking as he empties inside Mox. The second load of come makes Mox even wetter and an aftershock so intense it’s almost a second orgasm wracks its way through Yuta.

After a moment, Yuta manages to pull out, hissing at the wet drag against his oversensitive cock. He has to stare for a moment as come floods out of Mox, pooling underneath his ass. Yuta’s struck by the thought of leaning down and licking him clean, and his cock gives a feeble twitch. He doesn’t give into the urge, but what he does do is wrap his hand around Mox’s angry cock to give him a rough stroke. A thought tickles the back of Yuta’s brain and, on a hunch, he tightens his grip as far as he’s willing. It probably isn’t as hard as Claudio was gripping Mox earlier, but it’s definitely hard enough to hurt. Mox moans, cracked open and guttural, as his hips jerk uselessly. Yuta drags his hand up slowly, letting his nails scrape the side of Mox’s shaft. Mox shouts and comes, giving an uncoordinated thrust against Yuta’s fist. Yuta releases his grip and sits back on his haunches, panting heavily to try and regain his breath.

Yuta barely has time to breathe before Claudio is hauling him into a hard kiss with a hand on the back of his head. The way he kisses is proprietary, possessive, like he has every right to stake claim to Yuta’s mouth. A moan drags its way out of Yuta’s chest, startled and loud, as his hands hover in the air uselessly for a moment. They come to rest on Claudio’s sides, and the expanse of smooth skin and hard muscle bunching underneath Yuta’s fingertips as he breathes makes Yuta tremble. He’s so much bigger than Yuta, broad and imposing and all-encompassing. Yuta goes to pull away, desperate to breathe, but Claudio easily holds him in place for just long enough for Yuta’s lungs to ache.

Claudio’s smile is just a little too sharp, eyes dark and assessing. He cups Yuta’s cheek with one large hand, dragging the callused pad of his thumb across the line where Yuta’s beard meets his flushed cheek. “May I have you?” He asks quietly, staring deep into Yuta’s eyes.

“You already have me.” It comes out thoughtlessly, and Yuta barely has time to blush further before Claudio is laughing, head tossed back to bear the strong line of his throat. Yuta’s teeth ache. Claudio turns his gaze back to Yuta, eyes rich with such bare affection that Yuta’s breath catches in his throat.

“Let me rephrase: May I fuck you?” Claudio’s voice dips low, lower than Yuta thought possible, rumbling from deep within his broad chest. Yuta freezes. His eyes drop down on their own accord, and Yuta takes a moment to just stare at Claudio’s cock. Even hanging soft between his legs, he’s bigger than Yuta is hard.

Yuta can’t even begin to untangle the ball of nerves and arousal that settles low in the tangle of his intestines. “I’ve never…” He whispers, startled eyes flicking up to Claudio’s face. Claudio’s eyes widen in response, his lips twitching like he’s fighting a smile. He gently holds Yuta’s face with both hands, bringing him in close to rest their foreheads together.

“May I have the honor of being your first?” Claudio sounds eager, excited and bursting. Yuta nods before he’s finished speaking, hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. Even though he’s literally just come, he’s already starting to get hard again, and it’s probably the most painful boner of his life. He’s oversensitive and shivery and the pain curling in his stomach just makes it that much sweeter.

A very clumsy hand smacks into Yuta’s side, startling him so badly he almost headbutts Claudio in the nose. Claudio releases his face with a sharp laugh, and they both pull away to stare at Mox. He still looks out of it, eyes bleary and unfocused, breathing hard through his mouth. “Only if I c’n watch.” He slurs, mouth stretching into a lecherous grin. Yuta snorts so hard his chest hurts.

Claudio looks between them for a moment, gaze assessing and calculating. “Come. I will take you on my bed.” He says with a nod, an air of finality surrounding him. Take him, Jesus Christ. Yuta stumbles to his feet at Claudio’s behest, watching with a dry mouth as Claudio wipes away the come splattered on Mox’s stomach before heaving him over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Mox grunts and squirms, probably fighting just for the sake of fighting, but Claudio just straps him down with an arm across his hips and starts walking towards one of the doors off the living room. The muscles in his back look obscene, his arm bulging as he supports Mox’s wriggling weight easily.

Yuta follows helplessly, eyes trained on Claudio’s ass. His jeans, still open in the front, are starting to drift off his hips, and Yuta’s about 90% certain he’s wearing a jockstrap. He stands in the doorway of Claudio’s room as the man tosses Mox down onto the bed carelessly. Mox lands with a punched out oof, nearly bouncing off the edge of the mattress before he settles against the sheets.

The bed is neat. A thick duvet is pulled back to reveal soft sage green sheets tucked in with military precision. A pile of pillows crowds the headboard, and Mox grabs one to fluff under his head. He looks horribly pleased with himself, and the shit-eating grin on his face only grows as he watches Claudio strip efficiently. Yuta watches with wide eyes as his suspicions are confirmed; a white jock frames Claudio’s furred ass perfectly, the cup still pushed down to bunch underneath his heavy balls. His cock is starting to fill out again, and Yuta aches just looking at it. He can already feel the shape of tomorrow’s soreness.

Claudio looks back at Yuta with a gentle grin, walking over with careful, measured steps. He loops a finger in Yuta’s belt loop and pulls him close, cupping his hands around the narrow width of Yuta’s waist. Yuta feels small under Claudio’s grip, his hands rough and heavy against his skin. “Do you want my help, häschen?” Claudio asks gently, tipping his head to look Yuta in the eye.

Yuta doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but he nods anyway. He wants to follow Claudio’s lead, wants Claudio to take the reigns and make every decision for him. It’s partly due to Yuta’s inexperience in this realm, but it goes deeper than that, something more visceral pulling in the pit of his stomach at the idea of rolling over and handing Claudio his leash. He swallows with a thick tongue as Claudio slowly kneels down in front of him, folding his legs underneath him like this is a position he’s well acquainted with. Yuta gets lightheaded just looking at Claudio kneeling between his feet.

Claudio unlaces Yuta’s boots and helps him step out of them, taking off his socks and stuffing them neatly into the boots he sets by his door. He draws Yuta’s jeans off his hips, dragging them down his long legs. He places gentle kisses on each inch of revealed skin, his stubble catching against Yuta’s fine leg hair. His mouth is hot and sucking, his teeth sharp whenever he nips at Yuta’s skin. He folds Yuta’s pants once they’re off, and the motion is so practiced that Yuta can’t help but be fascinated. Claudio smiles up at him and places the gentlest of kisses against the leaking head of Yuta’s cock, still wet with the lingering traces of both his and Yuta’s come. Yuta’s dick jumps.

“Come,” Claudio stands slowly, holding out a hand to Yuta, “Let me take care of you.” Yuta nods, not trusting himself to speak. He takes Claudio’s hand and lets him lead the way to the bed even though it’s only a few steps away. Claudio kneels on the bed, drawing Yuta with him to rest on his back next to Mox.

“Typically, for your first time, I would take you on your front.” There’s that phrasing again—take him. “It’s easier that way,” Claudio continues, “But I would rather like to see your face.” His face blooms into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. Yuta shivers as Mox huffs out a laugh next to him. Mox plasters himself to Yuta’s side, tangling their legs together. He hooks his ankle around Yuta’s knee and draws it to the side, exposing Yuta that much more.

Claudio slowly presses Yuta’s leg to his chest, eyes dark as he drags them across the expanse of Yuta’s body. He stares at Yuta’s hole for a long moment and Yuta has to fight the urge to close his legs. Claudio licks his lips. “May I?” He asks, eyes darting up to Yuta’s face. Yuta nearly jumps at the pure heat he finds there, desire laid bare through his expanded pupils.

Once again, Yuta is clueless as to what Claudio is asking, and yet again, he nods regardless. It might be stupid, might be naive, but he trusts Claudio; after all, Mox trusts him. Normally, Yuta wouldn’t place that much importance on who Mox trusts—Mox certainly does not have the best track record—but Mox is trusting Claudio with Yuta, and he would like to think Mox likes him enough to care about his wellbeing. At the very least, Mox seems to care about Yuta’s pleasure.

Whatever Yuta’s expecting, it’s certainly not Claudio leaning down to press a wet kiss to his hole. Yuta jolts, thighs spasming as something that can only be described as a squeak escapes his mouth. Claudio sealing his mouth around Yuta’s hole and sucking is such a foreign feeling that Yuta’s brain can’t even begin to comprehend it, but his dick doesn’t care about his bewilderment, content to drool against his stomach.

Claudio doesn’t ease Yuta into it, doesn’t start slow to let him get acclimated. Instead, he devours Yuta like he’s a starving dog finally getting a bone, mouth demanding and ever-present. He licks in deep, forcing his tongue inside Yuta with a slick, slithery movement that makes Yuta’s toes curl. Having a tongue inside him feels worlds different from having his own fingers—and, on one occasion, Mox’s—inside him, hot and wet and slippery as it writhes against his walls. Claudio’s teeth get involved, scraping against Yuta’s rim in a move that makes his leg kick out reflexively. He can feel the beard burn in between his asscheeks, skin rubbed raw by Claudio’s stubble. He’s going to be feeling it for days, and the thought makes his dick twitch.

Yuta’s panting and writhing, and that’s before Claudio’s fingers make an appearance. He draws back, mouth and chin wet and red, as he slowly presses one large finger inside Yuta. He’s wet enough with saliva—practically drenched in it—that it slides in, but it’s nowhere near as smooth as it is with lube. He carefully crooks his fingers, searching for but a moment before he brushes against Yuta’s prostate. He grins, angular and predatory, at the way Yuta whimpers and twitches.

In this, Claudio lets Yuta adjust to the sensation of being filled. He waits until Yuta starts to wriggle impatiently, and then waits a moment longer, before withdrawing and returning with a second finger, wet with lube. He carefully pushes his way inside, the fit much tighter than Yuta is used to. His fingers feel massive, especially compared to how slim Yuta’s own are. He just fingerfucks Yuta for a moment, fingers tucked close together, but after a handful of gentle strokes, he spreads them as he draws out. The stretch doesn’t burn, but it’s incredibly noticeable, impossible to ignore as he tugs at Yuta’s rim with his fingertips.

Finger number three joins the first two after a few long, torturous minutes. This is where the burn kicks in, regardless of how much lube Claudio uses. Yuta’s breath catches as he’s stretched to the furthest point yet; it’s the most he’s ever been stretched, and the deepest the stretch has gone—he’s never been able to get a good angle on his own. He can’t keep quiet, making hitching little sounds every time he breathes out. He’s glad that Mox is holding him down in some way, glad that Claudio still has a grip on the back of his raised thigh, because he feels like he’s liable to float away otherwise.

The fourth finger is a shock that makes something unidentifiable shiver across Yuta’s nerve endings. He’s torn between desire and fear, and the fear honestly makes the desire sharper. He almost wants to be afraid. Claudio forces his pinkie inside, wet with enough lube that it slides in easier than the others, and Yuta feels like he’s being fucked open by a cock just from this. Claudio wiggles his fingers, drawing a choked noise from Yuta’s throat. He traces his thumb against Yuta’s rim idly, cocking his head as he considers the sight in front of him.

“I wonder if I could fit my whole fist inside you one day.” He says absently, gently stroking over Yuta’s prostate. Yuta convulses, body spasming so hard he nearly dislodges Claudio’s hand. Claudio presses him down onto the mattress with a laugh, his large hand spanning most of Yuta’s torso. Yuta’s thigh flops to the side without Claudio pinning it in place, and the change in angle makes some broken, warbling sound crack from Yuta’s chest.

Mox’s breath is hot against Yuta’s ear as he pants, “Yeah? Wanna be his pretty little sock puppet?” It’s so fucking stupid, cheesy and crass and idiotic, but Yuta moans and nods helplessly anyway. Claudio withdraws his fingers slowly, and Yuta can’t bite back his whine at the loss. He clenches around nothing, an empty ache settling low in the crook of his pelvis.

Claudio reaches over Yuta and grabs a pillow, lifting Yuta’s hips easily to shove it underneath him. Being manhandled so effortlessly makes Yuta’s cock kick against his stomach, the head dragging through the puddle of precome slowly amassing against his abs. Claudio settles back in the cradle of Yuta’s legs. He strokes his cock with a lubed hand, drawing himself to full hardness. It doesn’t take much—he was already most of the way there, just from fingering Yuta. Even against the backdrop of his large hand, Claudio’s cock looks huge, and Yuta finds himself wondering if it’ll even fit.

“Are you ready, häschen?” Claudio asks gently, slowly shuffling closer to Yuta. “We don’t have to do this,” He reassures, his smile gentling and easy. Yuta shudders at the idea of not getting what he wants, what he needs so deeply that his stomach hurts from it. He shakes his head—really, it’s more him thrashing his head side to side—as he whimpers loudly.

“No, no, I can take it, I can—” His voice breaks off, brittle and shattered, when the head of Claudio’s cock nudges against his hole. He clenches down involuntarily, a shiver tearing through his body. Mox shushes him gently, dragging a hand down Yuta’s chest.

“Don’t worry, he’ll make you feel good. You can take it.” Mox breathes, nuzzling into Yuta’s neck. He starts sucking a bruise there, dragging his teeth against Yuta’s tender skin. Yuta tips his head to the side to give Mox more access.

Claudio presses a little harder, testing the give of Yuta’s hole. “Breathe, häschen. Relax.” His voice isn’t a coo, but it’s close, something lilting and smooth. Yuta takes a deep breath and forces himself to relax, making every muscle in his body go loose and pliant. Claudio smiles. “Good, good. I am going to start now,” He cautions. Mox keeps working Yuta’s throat as Claudio slowly starts to push in.

To say it’s intense would be like saying lava is hot; it’s technically accurate, but it’s a vast understatement of the true intensity of the sensation. When the head breaches Yuta, he realizes all at once just how much this is going to be. He can barely breathe as the first inch sinks in, lungs aching with the ferocity with which he sucks in air.

Holy fuck.

Claudio slowly fucks his way inside, thrusting in half an inch before drawing back out. Yuta loses track of time, but he’s not quite sure if that means it takes an eternity or no time at all before Claudio’s hips are pressed tight against his ass. He feels like he’s been cracked in half and hollowed out; all the oxygen leaves Yuta like his body is trying to make room for Claudio.

Claudio waits patiently, rubbing his large palms up and down Yuta’s shaking thighs in slow, soothing passes. Yuta can feel the tension in Claudio’s thighs, can see the clench of his abs as his stomach expands with each deep breath he takes, and he can tell that Claudio is visibly holding himself back. Yuta can’t stop shaking, abs twitching helplessly as he gasps like a fish out of water. He feels like he’s out of his body, like he’s floating three feet above the bed; at the same time, he feels like someone’s tied a weight around his soul and tethered it to the pit of his stomach, right where the sensation is the strongest.

It takes a long, long while, but eventually, the burn in his stomach smooths into a pleasant ache, sparkling across his nerves. His hands flex uselessly above his head. He doesn’t know when he raised his arms, but at some point he must have, because they’re stretched above him, the knuckles of his clenched fists pressed against the headboard.

Mox shoves his face into the crook of Yuta’s armpit, taking a dragging, deep breath, like he’s trying to fill himself with the scent of Yuta’s sweat. His snuffling breaths tickle the sensitive skin, and it only gets worse when he opens his mouth and drags his tongue across Yuta’s armpit hair. Yuta squirms away from the sensation, but that just makes him more aware of where Claudio is forcing him open.

Yuta manages to nod at Claudio, eyes lidded and heavy. He feels drunk—or, at least, what he thinks being drunk would be like, head spinning and thick in his skull. He feels woozy. Claudio looks at him critically for a moment, eyes sharp and appraising, before he nods in return.

One moment, Yuta’s surrounded, trembling and overwhelmed, and the next moment he’s getting punched in the stomach with the true definition of what overwhelm actually is.

Claudio pulls his hips back slowly, dragging his cock out centimeter by centimeter. Yuta feels every goddamn millimeter, a cracked open wheeze puffing from his mouth. Mox scrapes his teeth against the tender skin of Yuta’s pit. The dual sensations make something crackle in Yuta’s brain, like he’s full of pop rocks. Claudio pushes in just as slowly, but it still punches the air from Yuta’s lungs as forcefully as if he’d been socked in the gut. He sets a careful pace, gently rocking his hips against Yuta’s. He doesn’t draw more than halfway out.

Eventually, once Yuta gets used to the sheer sensation of being fucked open by something as large as Claudio’s cock, he starts to get restless. He tries to push back against Claudio, but the larger man’s hands around his hips have him pinned down like a butterfly in a shadowbox. He makes a frustrated little noise that’s barely audible even to himself. Claudio seems to pick up on it regardless.

“What’s wrong?” Claudio asks, drawing to a stop. Yuta cries out, his pelvic floor spasming as he clenches tight around Claudio. He shakes his head restlessly, digging his nails into the solid wood of the headboard.

It takes him a moment to get his breath back, and even longer for him to be able to speak. All the while, Claudio stays still, hands massaging the sore muscles of Yuta’s hips. “Fuck, more,” Yuta whines, head tossed back against the pillow. He misses whatever expression flits across Claudio’s face, but he feels clocks the way his hands tighten brutally around his hipbones.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to—”

“Fucking move, I swear to god,” Yuta cries out, pushing against Claudio’s grip with everything he has. He barely budges. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Mox drags his tongue up his cheek, much like Yuta did to Mox earlier. Mox kisses Yuta, feeding him the taste of his own sweat and tears, before burying his face back into Yuta’s armpit.

The first hard, quick snap of Claudio’s hips makes Yuta scream, body jolting up the bed. He braces his hands against the headboard as Claudio sets about fucking him, putting every ounce of hard-earned muscle into each thrust. Yuta can feel Mox’s grin against his skin, can feel Mox grinding his hips against Yuta’s side as he grunts into Yuta’s armpit. Yuta’s barely cognizant of anything other than the sheer sensations running through him, of anything other than Claudio and Mox above him, around him, in him.

A hand gracelessly lands on Yuta’s stomach, just below his bellybutton. Claudio makes a punched out noise under his breath. Yuta turns his head and buries his nose in Mox’s messy curls with a questioning noise, too far gone to try and figure out how words work, let alone how to use them. Mox’s grin grows.

“You can see his cock.” Mox murmurs, digging his nose into Yuta’s skin. Yuta makes another confused noise before managing to crane his neck to peer down the line of his body. Claudio shoves Mox’s hand off of Yuta’s stomach and both of them gasp at what they see.

Below Yuta’s navel, next to where his dick lays, there’s a small, barely there bump every time Claudio’s hips push all the way forward. Yuta drops his hand onto his stomach, moaning as he feels the pressure build against his palm with every thrust. “Oh fuck,” He gasps, hips hitching. His cock jerks as he comes, splattering his spend across his skin.

Claudio groans, reaching with one hand to cover the bulge. He smears Yuta’s come into his skin, massaging the head of his cock from the outside. “Oh, you’re a delightful little fucktoy, aren’t you?” He laughs breathlessly, hips faltering slightly. He continues pumping into Yuta even as the smaller man whines and writhes under him as overstimulation takes over. Claudio comes with a grunt, burying himself deep as he fucks Yuta full of come. He stays inside even as he slumps forward, body falling to blanket Yuta’s. His breathing is labored by the extra weight, head swimming from the way Claudio’s scent—sweat and musk and sex and man—invades his nostrils. If he could get it up again already, he would.

Eventually, Claudio sits back on his haunches, breathing hard. His soft cock slips out, and Yuta whimpers at the feeling of come flooding out after him. His legs try to snap shut on instinct, but all that accomplishes is locking his knees around Claudio’s hips. Claudio chuckles and drags an affectionate hand down Yuta’s thigh.

“God, häschen, that was wonderful. I hope it was good for you?” Claudio sounds almost sheepish, unsure and questioning in a way Yuta’s never heard before. Mox snorts, face still buried in Yuta’s armpit.

“Holy shit,” Yuta breathes, gaping at the ceiling, “I can’t feel my arms.”

Claudio wheezes out a laugh, body bowing over with it. He straightens up and smiles brightly. “I’m glad it was up to your standards, häschen.” He jokes, tone jovial. Yuta laughs at the understatement.

“What does that mean?” Yuta asks curiously as Claudio slowly stands. His eyes track the older man as he walks out of the room, returning a moment later with a few damp washcloths in hand. He tosses one at Mox, who squawks when it lands wetly on his side. He carefully cleans Yuta up with another, gathering the come on his stomach in slow easy swipes. He’s gentle as he cleans Yuta’s hole, but Yuta still hisses as the fabric drags over his oversensitive flesh.

“What does what mean?” Claudio asks as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Häschen,” Yuta says, sure he’s butchered the pronunciation.

Claudio’s smile turns sheepish. “It means...not quite ‘small rabbit,’ but something similar. I cannot recall the exact word.” He shrugs a little helplessly.

Yuta blinks at him. “You’ve been calling me bunny this whole time?” He squawks indignantly. He grabs the washcloth Mox is using to clean himself out of Mox’s hand and throws it at Claudio, who easily swats it out of the air with a jubilant laugh.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, he calls me house animal,” Mox grumbles, rolling onto his back. His cock is hard against his thigh, but he seems unconcerned with it, content to lay there and watch.

Claudio tosses his third used washcloth at Mox. “You know it means pet, you ungrateful brat.” He huffs, slapping Mox on the thigh. Mox’s dick twitches against his thigh. “Just for that, you get to shower last.” He points sternly at Mox, who sticks his tongue out in retaliation.

Claudio points Yuta to the shower when he asks, and Yuta is pleased to see that there are towels already out. He gathers his clothes from where they’ve ended up and turns the water on, waiting tiredly for it to heat up. He enters the shower and groans as the hot water pounds against his shoulders, some of the remaining tension bleeding out of his body as he takes stock of himself. He’s aching and sore, hips stretched and tense. His lower back feels like it’s cramping, though it gets better when he digs his thumbs into his sacrum. Other than that, he feels good, loose-limbed and pliant.

He just stands there for a moment, staring at the wall in front of him. It all washes over him at once—that just happened. Someone else knows about him and Mox. He feels like a bucket of ice water was just dumped over him.

Someone else knows about him and Mox.

Something rises in his throat. It may be bile, or panic, or some unidentifiable third thing that lives underneath his breastbone. Yuta shudders, but this time, it’s not because he’s turned on; it’s because he’s sick. Claudio seems like a good enough guy, but all it takes is one bad argument with Mox and he could decide to ruin both their lives. Yuta knows Mox is being scouted by a few different colleges, and Yuta himself is already thinking about where he’s applying and what scholarships he’s going for. He can’t imagine any institution would react well to finding out a student—prospective or otherwise—has been fucking his stepbrother repeatedly.

Yuta knows that what he and Mox are doing is wrong. He feels it in the pit of his stomach. When they’re in the thick of it, there’s no thought of what’s right or what’s wrong or what’s responsible; there’s just acting and feeling. As soon as they’re finished, though, it all hits Yuta at once, like he’s being punched in the face with what he’s just done.

Up until now, it’s all been contained. It’s been a secret between him and Mox and whatever gods exist. Now, though, someone knows. Someone has entered their little bubble and popped it like a cyst. The panic is partly due to the danger of being found out, but there’s something else, something deeper. This is no longer his and Mox’s special thing. It feels like a loss, in some weird sense of the word.

Yuta doesn’t know how long he stands under the spray. He washes himself mechanically and towels off without focus, thinking entirely about his predicament. Is it even a predicament? For all he knows, Claudio already knew. Hell, Mox probably told him—god only knows that Mox can’t keep his big fucking mouth shut. Yuta feels cold and panicked as he hurriedly dresses and runs back into Claudio’s room.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

Claudio and Mox both look up from the easy conversation they were having. They both fall silent, eyes trained on Yuta. He wonders if he looks as frantic as he feels. He didn’t fully dry himself off, apparently; his shirt is sticking to his back. Maybe it’s just nervous sweat.

“You can’t tell anyone about me and Mox. You can’t—you can’t.” Yuta pants, clenching his hands into fists. He knows he has no chance at taking Claudio in a fight—the man is 6’5 for god’s sake, and he’s a wrestler to boot—but he’ll sure as hell try if it comes down to that.

Claudio holds his hands up placatingly. “Okay, I won’t. I promise.” He says softly, slowly rising off the bed. He stops in front of Yuta, resting his hands on his shoulders after a moment’s hesitation. Yuta looks at him defiantly. “Can I ask why you don’t want me to?” He asks, brow furrowed gently.

Yuta’s lower lip wobbles. “Because—” His voice cracks in half, and he clears his throat awkwardly. “Because he’s my brother.” The words are feeble and weak, and his face crumples as soon as he says them. He collapses against Claudio’s chest, hands scrabbling against his pecs. He can feel something bubbling up in the back of his throat. It’s not quite a noise, not yet, but it wants to be.

Quiet footsteps don’t register in Yuta’s ears, so he jumps when Mox’s hands gently land on his hips. Mox plasters himself to Yuta’s back, arms wrapping tightly around his torso. “Oh, baby,” Mox murmurs, burying his face in the back of Yuta’s neck. The dam breaks, and Yuta bursts into tears.