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When Jaemin agreed to smoke Mark and Donghyuck out a few hours ago, he wasn’t really expecting this.
“Mark,” Donghyuck whines, long and sweet, voice slightly muffled through the thin apartment walls but still loud enough to pierce straight through Jaemin’s chest and pin him to his bed, sweaty and disbelieving. The headboard slams against the wall in response, settling into a rhythmic thud-thud-thud that makes Jaemin wince. They’re going at it so enthusiastically that Jaemin’s sort of worried that they’re going to slam a hole in the wall and see Jaemin sitting in his bed listening to them, red-faced and hard in his threadbare limited edition My Melody pajama pants.
Jaemin likes to think he’s a pretty simple guy. He’s put up with a lot. He’s heard all manner of things since he moved in last year because landlords in this city seem to believe that cardboard, painted-over roach corpses, and broken dreams are the perfect building blocks for a loving home. He’s just got a few problems. Problems that he can’t deal with no matter how hard he tries.
Problem one is five feet something of long, slender leg and bratty disposition and is currently getting railed so aggressively against their shared bedroom wall that Jaemin’s getting dick-delusional enough to wonder if it’s on purpose.
Donghyuck Lee is probably the prettiest, pettiest, most infuriating person that Jaemin’s ever met, and the gorgeous stretch of his legs in those tiny gym shorts that he’s so fond of wearing to take out the trash or pick up delivery should be illegal. It’s not good for Jaemin’s heart. His cardiovascular system is still recovering from his caffeine addiction in undergrad, and the trip of his pulse every time Donghyuck rucks up his shorts to reveal even more smooth thigh while he’s leaning against his door talking to Jaemin can’t be good for him.
Problem two is the boyfriend. Mark Lee. Just as pretty, just as infuriating, and, privately, probably at least a little petty or he wouldn’t be able to match Donghyuck so well. He just doesn’t show it—he’s always a total sweetheart with Jaemin, reeling him in by the scruff of his neck for bro hugs in the hall and ruffling his hair like an unruly cat. He asks about Jaemin’s shitty job and listens like he actually cares, big eyes sparkling attentively while Jaemin rambles about the deal that he couldn’t close with a client that he hates. He doesn’t seem to take offense to the way Jaemin stares at Donghyuck, but he seems equally oblivious to the way that Jaemin looks at him too.
Problem three, which is Jaemin’s most immediate concern, is that said problems are fucking so loudly next door that Jaemin’s exercising every last bit of self-control not to yank down his pants and get off to the way Donghyuck's voice breaks while Mark pounds him out. At least, that’s what Jaemin imagines they’re doing. Mark’s penchant for over-narrating how good Donghyuck’s ass looks mixes with his overactive imagination to produce an image of Donghyuck squirming face-down in bed while Mark kneels over him and thrusts into him, head thrown back with pleasure, biceps gleaming with sweat.
So maybe he’s thought about it before. He’s long since made peace with his attraction to the couple—he’s liked them since the day he moved in and they greeted him with warm smiles and freshly baked welcome cookies; he’s just never had to confront the reality of them together like this. A steady buzz of arousal has been building in his chest ever since Mark leaned over the fire escape and stuck a joint between his lips a few hours ago, knuckles lingering at his chin, but it’s not just the free weed. He’s been hard for so long that if he gave in and touched himself, he’d probably come all over himself after one stroke like a fucking teenager. The Double Lee Effect, apparently.
“Mmm, fuck, harder,” Donghyuck moans, and he sounds even closer now, so close that Jaemin can hear everything from the hitch in his breath to the steady clap of Mark’s hips meeting his ass, the sloppy sound ridiculously clear in the otherwise still night. Not for the first time, Jaemin curses whoever decided that their apartment walls be made from the architectural equivalent of spit and tissue paper.
Jaemin’s been over at their place enough times to know that their bedrooms are mirror images of each other. Their beds are both placed against the center of the wall, so their headboards are lined up with each other, separated by a few scant inches. When Donghyuck had first seen his bedroom setup, he’d said something cute about sharing the same dreams since they slept with their heads so close to each other, while Jaemin had smiled stiffly and tried not to think about all the times he’d fucked someone senseless against that very wall.
Jaemin breathes out harshly through his nose. He’s so hard that if he lets himself think about it, really think about it, all the remaining blood powering his basic body functions is going to rush to his dick and he’s really going to die. 24-year-old Korean male found alone in overpriced apartment, cause of death: unbearable horniness. Right on cue, Donghyuck wails again, breaking off into an unsteady gasp when the headboard bangs against the wall. Someone’s palm slams into the wall next and Jaemin jumps, heart leaping into his throat and hand jolting away from where it’s been creeping towards his waistband.
They have to know that Jaemin can hear them. There’s simply no way. They’d said goodnight just two hours ago, waving cutely like a couple out of a catalog as Jaemin climbed off his fire escape and ducked through his window. He always gets a little worked up when he smokes, but he’d been planning to wash off the smell of weed and jack off in the shower before he passed out like usual, not lie paralyzed in bed wondering what the fuck Mark's doing with his hips to make Donghyuck scream like that. The high’s long since faded away, leaving only the churning clench of arousal and a sluggish numbness.
They sound so good together. Mark’s staccato grunts mix perfectly with Donghyuck’s legato moans, voices curling so sinfully around each other that it’s like they were made to fuck, like they were put on this earth to roll around in bed together and drive Jaemin insane. He lowers his hand back to his stomach, swallowing and running his fingers teasingly along his waistband, shivering at the light touch. He’s always hypersensitive after he smokes, skin tingling with every brush of his shirt against his nipples, every sensation magnified tenfold through the warm, lingering haze.
It's a bad idea. He shouldn’t get off to his friends having a private moment, even if they seem dead set on making it as public as possible, even if he’s already come to the thought of them both separately and together more times than he can count. Donghyuck’s moans are getting desperate now, high, sharp sounds that keep cutting off abruptly, and Jaemin would think he’s close and the torture’s almost over except he’s already sounded like that three different times.
Mark must edge him so well, shoving into his sloppy hole and taking him right to the edge, holding him on the brink of orgasm with a tight hand around his pretty cock or a harsh command in his ear. Donghyuck probably likes that kind of thing. For all his playfulness, he likes being kept in place, likes pushing Jaemin’s buttons until he shuts him down, likes being forced to behave. Forced to be good. Jaemin could do that for him, but Mark probably does it better. On rare occasions, Mark says something low in his ear and Donghyuck’s entire demeanor shifts, back straightening and eyes turning attentively to Jaemin, sinking into compliance. Jaemin doesn’t know if he wants to hold that kind of power over Donghyuck or if he wants Mark to lead him around with a few words like that.
Jaemin curls a hand around his dick, running his thumb over the side and biting back a sharp hiss. He gives himself a few loose strokes, spreading his precome over his dick until the slide of skin on skin is hot and slick, the quiet, obscene sound drowned out by the loud curse that Mark lets out next door. Donghyuck lets out another moan right next to his ear, and if Jaemin closes his eyes, he can pretend that he’s the one fucking into Donghyuck’s tight heat, making him sound like he’s dying, like he’s meeting God. He fucks his fist harder, groaning quietly as he runs a hand over his chest, thumb dragging over a nipple. God. They’ve been going at it for over an hour now. Donghyuck must be so loose, so slick, so hot around his cock, so stretched and easy that Jaemin could just shove inside him and fill him up, could just...
Jaemin finds himself standing outside their door ringing the doorbell before he even knows where he is. At least he’s had the forethought to tuck his dick under his waistband so he’s not standing there tenting his pants and slurring out something ridiculous like if you’re going to put on a show at least let me watch.
It’s a couple of minutes before Mark opens the door in a tight white shirt and a pair of low-hanging sweatpants with the tie sloppily done. His dark hair is mussed to hell and the high points of his cheekbones and ears are flushed a pretty red. It’s obvious what he’s been doing. The sweatpants are a little long on him, tight around his thighs and pooling slightly at his ankles, and it’s even more obvious who he’s been doing.
“Hey?” Mark prompts, eyebrows raised, and Jaemin realizes he’s just been standing there silently in the dark hallway, staring like the ax murderer that Chenle calls him when he finds him lounging in his house after work with the lights off.
“Hey,” Jaemin says. His voice sounds like gravel and clearing his throat doesn’t help. He hopes that Mark reads the scrape in his throat as irritation and not barely concealed arousal. “Can you guys keep it down? It’s pretty late.” He throws in a pleasant, nonthreatening smile for good measure, but from the way Mark flushes hotly, it must not be very convincing.
“Oh, shit,” Mark fumbles, scratching the back of his neck. His shirt rides up with the motion to reveal a fresh, reddening mark bruising the pale skin just above the sharp cut of his hip bone. Jaemin clenches his fist so hard that the knuckles crack. “Sorry, man. We didn’t realize.” He laughs quietly. “Donghyuck’s, uh… loud. You know how it is. Haha.”
I do not know how it is, Jaemin thinks, half-delirious. “Ha,” he echoes dryly, feeling like he’s dying.
Why did he come here? Mark has to be fucking with him. There’s no way he doesn’t know how loud they’re being. Twenty minutes ago he’d told Donghyuck he wanted to make him scream and praised him loudly when he succeeded, the words dripping through the wall right into Jaemin’s ears. Zero volume control. Every time Jaemin’s had someone over, hell, every time he’s even gotten off, he’s been hyperaware of every squeak of the mattress and every gasp of breath, pumping one of his playlists through his bass-boosted speakers so the sounds don’t carry.
Mark starts rubbing the curve of his neck. Jaemin can’t tell if he’s starting to feel uncomfortable or if he somehow strained his neck from fucking Donghyuck. Maybe Donghyuck sat on his face, twisted his hands in that goddamn undercut and rode that handsome mouth into oblivion. Jaemin can picture it so easily: the graceful arch of Donghyuck’s back, the pink flash of Mark’s tongue, Mark’s strong hands around his waist, holding him in place. In this position, Mark’s biceps look unfairly good, his shirt sleeves stretching over the muscle. Jaemin spots Mark at the gym when he lifts, and he knows exactly what those arms feel like when they're sweaty and tense and trembling, how those strong, broad shoulders taper down to a taut waist.
He doesn’t realize he’s staring again until his eyes flick back to Mark’s face. Mark’s eyes have darkened considerably, and he’s looking at Jaemin like he’s trying to figure something out, the thoughtful slant to his mouth doing strange things to Jaemin’s stomach.
“Do you…” Mark pauses, sticking his tongue in his cheek, a habit he’s picked up from Donghyuck in the past few months. He braces an arm against the doorway, leaning slowly into Jaemin’s space. “Do you wanna come in?”
“…Hm?” Jaemin’s hands are burning up where they’re clenched in the loose fabric of his pants. There’s no way. No fucking way.
Mark raises his eyebrows, the uncertainty twisting his mouth giving way to a knowing smile. “Donghyuck likes you, you know.”
Jaemin swallows. Fuck. Mark’s not as oblivious as he seems. Fuck, fuck. Donghyuck likes him. Fuck. But he has to be clear: it’s both of them, for him. “And you?”
Mark looks surprised by the question. Maybe he’s still a little oblivious. All wide, blinking eyes when he could just say the word and Jaemin would shove him down and ride him right there in the doorway. “Me? ‘Course I like you, man. We both do.”
We, Jaemin thinks, dizzy. We. He swallows, struggling to gather his thoughts, heart starting to beat out a low, furious tempo. His gaze dips helplessly to Mark’s mouth, the swollen swell of his bottom lip, and Mark leans closer, hand dropping from where it’s braced against the doorway to curl around Jaemin’s forearm. He pulls lightly, questioning, and when Jaemin doesn't resist, he exhales softly and kisses him.
It's much sweeter than Jaemin expects, all soft touches and tentative presses of tongue until Jaemin wraps a hand around the back of his neck, scratching through the short hair at the base of his neck and licking hotly into his mouth, nipping sharply at his bottom lip. Mark groans quietly into his mouth and fists a hand in the front of his shirt, deepening the kiss instantly, kissing Jaemin so all-consumingly that he’s aware of nothing but the hot, endless slide of lips and tongue and teeth and skin, kissed so thoroughly that he barely notices when Mark tugs him inside and pins him against the door, curling a hand in his hair to tilt his head to the side and mouth hotly over his pulse.
The kisses grow deeper, dirtier, spit sliding over their chins as Mark slots a thigh between his legs, pulling him down into a slow grind. Jaemin makes a low noise and Mark pulls away, mouth slick and freshly bruised, eyes half-shuttered. Jaemin tracks the sweep of his tongue over his lips like a hawk, chest rising and falling quickly.
“Shit,” Mark curses, hoarse and breathless, and Jaemin tilts his head back against the door, pleased when Mark’s eyes dip to the bob of his throat as he swallows.
“Shit,” Jaemin agrees, and the nerves finally start to melt away, a smile tugging at his mouth when Mark rakes a hand through his messy hair. He’s looking at him so hungrily that he makes Jaemin feel small, a strange, unfamiliar feeling, but he’s unsurprised to find that he likes it. He’d probably like anything that Mark does to him.
“Babe,” Donghyuck calls, voice ringing suddenly through the apartment like a petulant bell, and Jaemin startles so hard that he knocks his head against the door, tensing all over until Mark cups a soothing hand around the back of his neck. “What’s taking so long? Is it that bitch from 402 again? Tell her to fuck off already.”
“Nah,” Mark calls back, a smirk creeping over his face. He pulls Jaemin away from the front door, leading him towards the bedroom with a reassuring squeeze of his hand and sticking his head through the cracked door. “You’ll like this.” Then he’s ushering Jaemin inside before Donghyuck can respond, shutting the door behind them with a conclusive click.
If Jaemin thought Mark was a mess when he opened the door, Donghyuck is an absolute disaster. A beautiful, surprised disaster, mouth rounded out in a perfect, pouty O as he scrambles to sit up, pulling his knees together. He’s flushed and naked, slickness visible between his thighs, flashes of shiny pink glinting in the dim light and drawing all the blood away from Jaemin's brain, tan skin scattered with moles and bruises alike. His dark hair is stuck damply to his temples, the back fluffy from where it’s been rubbing against the pillows, and Jaemin wants to get his hands in that tangled mess and pull.
“You’re beautiful,” Jaemin manages, shattering the frozen air, transfixed by the sticky smears on Donghyuck’s belly. His focus snaps back to his face when he hums, shock shifting into something dangerous and sultry at the breathless note in Jaemin’s voice.
“Mark,” Donghyuck purrs, but his eyes are on Jaemin, gaze so intense that it feels like he called his name instead. “You brought me a present.”
“I think he brought himself,” Mark says. He comes to stand behind Jaemin, a firm line of heat pressed up against his back, and pulls Jaemin’s shirt up slowly, knuckles brushing over his abdomen. Donghyuck’s stare burns into every inch of bare skin revealed, and Jaemin feels a bit like a toy on display, tensing his muscles to give him something to look at. Mark pulls his shirt fully off, flicking a thumb over his nipples before sliding his palm back down over his stomach, tracing his waistband teasingly.
Mark makes a little sound of surprise that’s too endearing for the tension coiling thickly in the air. “No underwear, baby?”
Donghyuck whistles from the bed, and Jaemin doesn’t know where to look, gaze ping-ponging between Mark’s hand as it slides under his waistband and Donghyuck’s legs as he spreads them slowly. Donghyuck tilts his head and crooks his finger and Jaemin follows as if magnetized, crawling up the bed until he’s braced over Donghyuck, hands shaking on either side of his head. Mark slides onto the sheets next to them, pressing a gentle but firm hand to Jaemin’s back until he’s leaning all the way down, mouth a breath away from Donghyuck’s.
Donghyuck tips his head back, evading Jaemin’s kiss with a small smirk. He already looks fucked out, eyes half-lidded and blown black, the curl of his mouth lax and easy but that familiar spark in his gaze, the resistance that Donghyuck always likes to make a show of putting on before he lets someone put him in his place.
“Do you want me?” Donghyuck asks, voice like warm honey pouring over his skin.
“Yes,” Jaemin says, leaning in, but Donghyuck avoids him again, turning his head to the side.
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
“You’re gorgeous.”
“Do you want to fuck me?”
“Yes,” Jaemin says helplessly, eyes fixed on the glazy pink curve of Donghyuck’s smug mouth. He’s hypnotized by the way his smile widens before he remembers where he is, who he’s with, and he turns towards Mark to check if his answer’s okay, but Donghyuck grabs him by the jaw in a flash, holding him in place so he has no choice but to meet his gaze.
Jaemin’s fucked a lot of people but none of them have ever looked at him like this, so heavy and intense that it’s like they’re already fucking, pressed messily into the sheets and swallowing each other’s moans.
“Good,” Donghyuck says. Then he smiles softly, the sudden sweetness stirring Jaemin’s heart all over again, just as deadly as the first time he saw it. “You have to kiss me first,” he instructs, tilting his chin up and shutting his eyes, and Jaemin finally closes the distance between them to seal his mouth over that beckoning smile, sliding his tongue hotly against Donghyuck’s and drawing a soft whimper from his throat.
Jaemin knows the rest of the night is going to be a mess because it’s immediately desperate; Donghyuck’s lips are slick and eager against his, and his breaths stutter shakily when Jaemin pulls back to suck kisses down his neck, licking over the dip of his throat. Donghyuck twists a hand in his hair and tugs, and Jaemin groans into the curve of his shoulder, drawing a matching sound from Mark beside them. Jaemin scrapes his teeth over Donghyuck’s shoulder and Donghyuck whines sharply, arching to press their chests together, so responsive that it’s headying.
“You’re loud,” Jaemin says conversationally, matter-of-fact in the way that he knows drives Donghyuck insane as if he’s not one wrong move from coming in his pants like a virgin.
“You like it,” Donghyuck says boldly, cupping him through his pants, and Jaemin crumples against him with a curse, grinding into the hot press of his palm.
“He likes showing off,” Mark says with a snort, and when Jaemin checks on him, he’s sprawled on his side next to them, hand pumping slowly under his sweatpants in time with the strokes of Donghyuck’s palm, cheeks flushed a soft red as he watches Jaemin’s hips twitch up into Donghyuck’s hold.
“Only for the right audience,” Donghyuck mutters.
Mark looks so good and Donghyuck’s hand feels so sweet that it takes Jaemin a moment to process their words, and when he does, he whips his head back to find Donghyuck smirking at him again, blinking coyly.
“You knew,” he accuses. “You knew I could hear you.”
“We can hear you too, you know,” Donghyuck says shamelessly. “Ah, ah,” he whines, pitching his voice high in imitation of the last person Jaemin had brought home, fluttering his eyelashes. “Jaemin, please, faster.” He throws his head back, the whites of his eyes showing as he pretends to orgasm, hand drawing so tightly around Jaemin’s clothed cock that he bucks helplessly into his grip. “Sounds like fun,” he says, pleased with his little act, and Jaemin grits his teeth and kisses him again, pushing his legs further apart so he can grind up against him, dragging his length against his soft cock.
Donghyuck wraps his legs around him with a quiet noise and kisses him back happily, clever tongue curling against his, and by the time Jaemin pulls back, he’s fully hard again, cockhead flushed and shiny. Jaemin grinds down against him more slowly, forehead pressed to Donghyuck’s to watch the way his mouth falls open around a gasp as Jaemin presses him into the mattress, larger frame pinning him flat.
“Pretty,” Mark mumbles, and Jaemin doesn’t realize he’s talking about him until he reaches over and guides him away from Donghyuck’s mouth, kissing him until he’s dazed and panting, hand trailing absently over Donghyuck’s waist. Jaemin doesn’t want Donghyuck to feel left out, slipping his fingers between his legs, but he freezes up when he feels a warm, sticky slickness at his entrance, pulling away from Mark with great effort to stare blankly at the opaque streaks of come leaking slowly from Donghyuck’s hole. Jaemin pushes two fingers inside, ribs constricting, and Donghyuck’s so relaxed, so fucked-open that he spreads them easily, rubbing over his walls with a low curse. He withdraws his fingers and offers them to Donghyuck in a daze, watching intently as he accepts them readily into his mouth, lapping over his knuckles and sucking them clean.
“Fuck,” Jaemin says intelligently. He slides down the bed, burying his face between Donghyuck’s legs without preamble, too worked up to tease, licking up the pearly streaks on his inner thighs and dragging the flat of his tongue over his fluttering hole. Donghyuck gasps sharply and Mark sinks a hand in his hair, holding Jaemin in place as he watches him lap up his come, waves of pleasure rebounding between them as Jaemin fucks his tongue inside, Donghyuck chokes on a sob, and Mark tightens his grip.
Jaemin doesn’t know how long he eats Donghyuck out for, tasting the traces of Mark fucking him open mixed with Donghyuck’s own musk all while Donghyuck twitches and thrashes and moans in his grip. He licks him open until he’s rutting weakly against his mouth, lips parted in an endless moan when Jaemin finally pulls back to gasp for breath. Before he can rub the back of his hand over the mess on his face, Mark’s there, using his thumb to wipe away the mix of spit, lube, and come from the corners of his mouth. Jaemin’s so dazed that he drags his tongue over the pad of his finger too, letting Mark push down on his bottom lip and drag a slick trail down his chin.
“Shit,” Mark groans appreciatively, cupping Jaemin’s face and lifting his chin. “Look at you. So pretty like this.” Jaemin groans helplessly, a noise that he’s never heard himself make before, and Mark clicks his tongue, the sharp sound sending a pulse of arousal through Jaemin. “You like that, huh? You should see yourself, baby. Look so good down there. Like you belong there.”
“Yeah,” Donghyuck sighs dreamily, and he reaches down to pull Jaemin back up, drawing him into another kiss, plush and sweet, both of them tasting like Mark. He can sense Mark shuffling around next to them, and before long, there’s a hand pressed firmly to his side as Mark slots himself against his back, a mirror of their earlier position. This time, Mark tongues over the curve of his neck and curls his hand loosely around the base of his cock, stroking him a few times before guiding him forward until he’s lined up with Donghyuck’s hole, the press of hot skin against his cock splitting his head in two, skin and bone peeled back as he starts to breach. Then he’s pushing the rest of the way in, Donghyuck so stretched out that his entrance gives easily as Mark guides him deeper, the pleasure white-hot and choking and everywhere.
Jaemin can’t help the sound that’s wrenched out of him, loud and guttural, the combination of Donghyuck’s tight heat and Mark’s rough hand so overwhelming that he has to fist both hands in the sheets to stop himself from coming. Donghyuck’s hand finds his in the messy sheets, clenching over his knuckles so tightly that he feels the bones grinding together, watching Jaemin with a dazed, open look on his face.
“Come on,” Mark coaxes, hand sliding away to wrap firmly over his hip, squeezing lightly, and Jaemin pulls out, slides in, and loses control.
Donghyuck’s unbearably tight and hot around him and Jaemin snaps into him in a hard, fast rhythm, each thrust shoving him further up the mattress until he’s in danger of colliding with the headboard.
“Yes,” Donghyuck gasps, hand clenching spasmodically, cock twitching restlessly against his belly, “y-yes, ah, ah, more, Jaemin—!”
He sounds so gorgeous falling apart under him, because of him, so much clearer than before as he throws his head back and lets Jaemin know just how good he’s fucking him. He squeezes around him and Jaemin reflexively fucks into him so hard that he sobs, scrabbling helplessly at his side and clutching Mark’s arm for support.
“Just like that, princess, c’mon,” Mark rambles grittily in his ear, free hand roaming over Jaemin’s chest, the low rasp of his voice mixing with the high whine that Donghyuck lets out when Jaemin angles his hips and slams into a new spot, the nickname doing something fatal and irreversible to his insides. “So good for him, baby, so good for us, so fuckin’ hot, so…”
Mark curls over Jaemin like he’s trying to meld the three of them into one sweaty, writhing mass, grinding harshly against Jaemin’s ass, an immovable pressure that he can’t push back against, and in a hot, delirious flash, he imagines Mark fucking into him like this, that big, thick cock spearing him open and rocking him into Donghyuck, each drag of his hips forcing him deeper into his boyfriend, feedback loop of desire.
Jaemin buries his face in the curve of Donghyuck’s shoulder, panting into the damp skin as Mark’s slick chest sticks to his back. They build up a steady rhythm like that, Mark guiding them closer, harder, deeper, an unrelenting wall against Jaemin’s back every time he pulls back and pushes in. Donghyuck’s making so much noise that Jaemin’s lizard brain is wondering how loud he’d get with two cocks splitting him open when Mark pulls him back up, moving him so easily that Jaemin flushes hotly.
“Look,” he says simply, hand at the back of Jaemin’s neck tilting his head down, and his hips pick up speed as he watches the way his cock disappears into Donghyuck’s hole, everything glistening and sloppy and wet, the sound of Jaemin’s dick sliding through Mark’s mess and his own spit deafening in the hot room.
It devolves quickly from there. Jaemin’s rhythm falters when Mark starts sucking bruising kisses into his neck and playing with his nipples, the uneven pace of his hand echoing Jaemin’s own, just as insatiable as the man arching his back and whimpering under Jaemin.
“You’re so— fucking— loud,” Jaemin pants, punctuating each word with a slam of his hips, and Donghyuck positively wails as Jaemin gets a hand under the curve of his spine to hold him in place, grinding deep.
“We’ll get another neighbor complaining and it won’t be the hot one this time,” Mark says, immediately ignoring his own warning when his dick slides between Jaemin’s cheeks and he smothers a painful-sounding groan in his hair.
“Shut the fuck up,” Donghyuck tries to say, but Jaemin wraps a hand around his throat and snaps into him harder so it sounds more like shut the fu-uh-uh-uh-uhh. Donghyuck levels him with a weak glare that quickly dissolves into a hazy, glazed-over stare when Jaemin gets his other hand around his drooling cock and starts stroking him in time with his thrusts.
Mark hums thoughtfully, the vibration against the skin behind Jaemin’s ear sending goosebumps blooming in its wake. “How about...” he trails off, dropping a kiss on the top of Jaemin’s spine and pulling back. He shuffles up the bed and straddles Donghyuck’s chest, grinning at Jaemin over his shoulder boyishly before leaning down to feed his cock into Donghyuck’s waiting mouth, thumb stroking over his cheekbone in a quick display of tenderness.
“Good boy,” Mark says, groaning lowly as he starts to move his hips, and something in Jaemin audibly snaps. He slams into Donghyuck at the same time that Mark fucks into his mouth, hand tangled in his hair to keep him still, and he sounds even more obscene this way: mouth stuffed full of cock, moans muffled, the sloppy sound of him gagging helplessly twisting through the air when Mark and Jaemin thrust in at the same time.
Jaemin’s way past close, hips moving blindly as he chases his own pleasure, tugging at Donghyuck’s cock until he's batting him away with an inaudible protest, pulling off Mark to gasp for breath, lips shiny and swollen. Mark rubs his cock over his cheek, dragging a slick, shiny trail over his moles and cursing when Donghyuck presses a soft kiss to the shaft.
“Wanna… wanna ride you,” Donghyuck pants, voice wrecked to hell, eyes hazy but still managing to pin Jaemin down with that intense, expectant stare, that characteristic self-assuredness that secretly makes Jaemin want to give him whatever he wants whenever he wants it.
“Okay,” Jaemin says, brain leaking out of his ears, his grasp on the English language fleeing him as Donghyuck licks his lips like he can’t wait to get on top.
“God, yeah,” Mark agrees, and then there’s some more fumbling as they rearrange themselves.
“Do this often?” Jaemin jokes, voice weak to his own ears, eyes fixed on the endless splay of Donghyuck’s legs as he braces himself over Jaemin.
“You’re the first, Minjae,” Donghyuck says sweetly, shooting Jaemin a small smirk as he settles over his hips.
“Told you we liked you,” Mark says, pulling him down, and, yeah, alright, that’s enough thinking for the foreseeable future.
Mark ends up sitting against the headboard, Jaemin between his legs with his back to his chest, pressing a firm, possessive hand over Jaemin’s stomach as Donghyuck sinks down inch by unbearable inch, sheathing himself impossibly deeper this time. All three of them groan in tandem when Donghyuck gets himself all the way down, the first roll of his hips pushing Jaemin back against Mark’s cock. Mark’s fingers brush over the spot where Jaemin and his boyfriend are joined, teasing at the stretched rim and rubbing over Jaemin’s shaft when Donghyuck rises slowly, the doubled sensation filling his mind with white static, a distant roar in his ears as Mark spits out some choice words.
Jaemin’s seriously going insane. Like this, he’s pinned between the couple with nowhere to go, head falling back against Mark’s shoulder as Donghyuck rides and Mark grinds up against the small of his back, murmuring low compliments as he watches Donghyuck bounce on his dick like he was meant to take it. Donghyuck moves his hips like sin personified, thighs trembling only when Jaemin slides his hands over them to spread them further, tightening his grip on the plush skin until the skin dimples and Donghyuck starts to squirm, clenching down. Mark’s holding him so tightly that Jaemin can do little more than jerk his hips up minutely to meet Donghyuck’s movements, wrapping his hand around his cock to give him something to fuck into.
They’re all so high off of each other that it’s impossible to drag it out. He doesn’t want it to end but it’s so good, too good, an endless collision of hands and mouths and skin and skin, sensation sparking from head to toe, body reduced to pure, mindless want. Jaemin curls his hand over Mark’s where it keeps stroking over his chest, pinning himself down, and Mark comes without warning, spilling hotly over his back, pressed so tightly against him that Jaemin feel every tremor that wracks through him. He grinds against him through the aftershocks, and Jaemin flushes hotly at the warm feeling of his come slicking over his skin.
Donghyuck does something skillful with his hips and it’s a long, mindless moment before Jaemin comes back to earth and realizes that Mark’s rubbing his come slowly into his ass as he fucks desperately up into Donghyuck, thumb dragging over the skin in warm, wet circles. Donghyuck leans down to kiss Mark, the slick sound of their mouths meeting by his ear sending another bolt of arousal through him, ribs constricting as his orgasm looms closer and closer.
“Shit, fuck,” Jaemin blurts, and he needs to come now, feels it creeping up so fast that he can taste it, the bitter, burning edge of his release hot on his tongue, but he wants Donghyuck to come first, so he locks his hands blindly around his waist and braces his feet against the mattress so he can fuck up into him in harsh, desperate jerks, no finesse, so close that his vision is splintering at the edges and he can barely focus on the pretty sight of Donghyuck bouncing and whimpering weakly in his lap. Jaemin snaps his hips up again and Donghyuck comes spectacularly, shaking all over but surprisingly quiet, a single long, high sound leaking through his teeth as he clenches around Jaemin and collapses against his chest.
Jaemin gasps out his own sound and keeps slamming up into him, every muscle drawing tighter and tighter as Mark smoothes a hand over his hip, barely managing to keep his grip from the relentless pace that he’s set.
“Come on,” Mark murmurs, low, relaxed voice going straight to his dick, everything blurring through a dizzy, metallic haze, mind gone utterly clear like glass. “Pretty baby, pretty Jaeminie, so good for us, so perfect. C’mon, keep goin’, princess, come for us. Give our Hyuckie what he wants, hm?”
It’s too much at once. Mark rubs a lone finger over his dry hole, slick with someone’s come, and Donghyuck cries out when he snaps into him, overstimulated and shivery. Jaemin stares unseeing at Donghyuck’s parted mouth, fucking into him once, twice, three times before he’s finally coming, endless and scorching, grinding into Donghyuck’s tight heat and dragging it out, his groans mixing with Donghyuck’s sigh of pleasure and Mark’s snarl of triumph.
For a long moment they’re a pile of sticky, twitching limbs, chests heaving as they slowly return to earth. Mark doesn’t complain despite the combined weight plastered to his chest, so Jaemin rolls Donghyuck carefully to the side, wrapping an arm around him when he instantly curls into him and throws a long, tan leg over him so he can’t move.
Mark slips away and returns with a warm, damp towel, cleaning the two of them up as they catch their breath. Donghyuck’s already half-dead to the world, nosing sleepily into Jaemin’s neck when Mark slides into the bed next to them, pressing a kiss to Jaemin’s shoulder blade.
Everything’s so warm and hazy and sweet that Jaemin’s loath to ruin the atmosphere, but he opens his mouth and tries anyway. “I should—”
“You’re welcome to stay,” Mark interrupts, smiling at him, gaze soft and open. “Look. Hyuckie’s already knocked out.”
As one, they turn to look at the man clinging tightly to Jaemin, limbs wrapped around him and mouth half-open to let out small, puffing breaths. Jaemin’s overcome with a wave of fondness, the warm, bubbly feeling at odds with what they’ve just done, and when he looks up, Mark’s watching him knowingly. “Sleep,” he urges, eyes still managing to sparkle in the dim light, and Jaemin caves so fast that it’d be embarrassing if Mark hadn’t just seen every last inch of him, laid out and bare.
“Alright,” Jaemin agrees, and Mark’s answering smile is so brilliant that he almost wants to look away. Instead, he offers him a small smile in return. He’s on the brink of saying something too real when Donghyuck stirs.
“Wanna watch Markie fuck you next time,” he mumbles, half-conscious. His words are barely understandable, slurred into Jaemin’s throat, but the suggestion alone is enough to make Jaemin go hot all over.
Mark hums, stroking gently over Jaemin’s ruffled hair. “Good idea, babe.”
“Good idea,” Jaemin echoes blankly. His dick hurts. His heart aches even more, curled up between the two like he belongs there. “…Next time.”