Work Text:
Only the emergency lights are on in the KQ building. It is long past the time of night when all the staff go home. San wanders around on a livestream, filming like he is the main character of a first-person POV horror game. Their album comeback is close, but that only means their strenuous preparation is on hold until their similarly tiresome promotions’ period.
All of that to say, there’s no reason for San to be at work tonight. Except that Seonghwa and Mingi are at Paris Fashion Week. His apartment is empty, and he is lonely.
“I can feel someone watching me…” San says to his phone. He pans back and forth down the dark hallway, acting like he’s checking for monsters. Then, he bolts down the hall, breathing hard and barely containing his laugh.
“Ah, you! The CCTV!”
San feigns blowing out the security cameras before whipping around. He runs down another hall, glowing green in the gloom, then another.
“Oh!” he murmurs as he winds up in a small kitchenette. He breaks scene to grab a paper cup and fill it with water from the dispenser. He gulps it down, groaning.
“Stamina has been restored,” he says cutely, imitating a robot. He tosses his cup and continues his game.
Running, panting, dodging the glowing cameras. In the distance, one of the hallways is illuminated.
“There’s a light! It’s the exit—an escape!”
San dashes for it. But then, the light flickers and goes out completely, just as San happens to pass by the light switch.
“Dun, dun, the final boss…” he says to himself.
He sprints again, but his steps leaden. He fakes getting attacked and falls to his knees by the unseasonal Christmas tree. There concludes his game: You Have Died. Game Over.
“Hah, yes… Good job, good job… I am great at playing by myself, hm,” he responds to the comments on his livestream, chuckling.
San switches to his front camera. It’s dark, so he looks good despite not putting on any makeup today. He blow-dried his hair that morning at least. They had several meetings in the afternoon, and he didn’t want to just show up in a hat for once. There were also two boys he hadn’t seen since their last fanmeeting that he hoped to impress.
“Who wants to get dinner with me? Haidilao?” he asks his phone. He knows the answer will be a resounding ‘yes, yes, yes!’, but no one he can actually eat with will come. Still, he smiles at the camera. He lets his dimple come out to tell his fans he’s happy and alright.
“See you next time~! Ppyong~!” he vocalizes sweetly and ends the stream.
Sighing, he gets up off the floor and slides his phone into his pocket. Now that the building is silent again, the loneliness creeps back. He walks to the water dispenser, where he took a ‘stamina break’ during his horror game playthrough.
Behind him, a door slams. San freezes. No one should be here, but it could be a staff member who forgot something during the day. San follows the noise—everything you aren’t supposed to do in a horror movie. But this is real life, and he should be safe.
The door to the stairwell is ajar. When he peeks his head through, there’s no one above or below. In the gloom, he can’t see much. However, anyone coming in would naturally turn on the lights. San backs up from the door, fear settling in.
He quiets his steps as he returns to the break room. It’s barely a closet, but it feels like a good enough hiding spot. Plus, if anyone comes and asks what he’s doing, he can pretend he totally was not scared by a little sound in the dark building.
San closes the door, backs into the corner by the water dispenser, and crouches down.
“No one’s out there. You’re okay, you’re okay,” he intones to himself. He’s calming his breathing when a deep, muffled voice comes from right next to him.
“What are you doing?”
“Ack!” San yells, more high-pitched than he intended. He whips around, but only the cabinets are beside him. “Y-Yeosang…?”
“Yeah, can you let me out?” says the voice.
“What happened?” San notices the metal rod through the two handles of the vertical cabinets.
“He trapped me in here.”
“What—who?”
San slides the metal out. It’s their milk frother… He sets it on the counter above his head and opens the cabinet doors. Yeosang practically pours out of the cubbyhole, red-faced and too warm. He falls onto San, knocking them both back onto the linoleum.
Yeosang isn’t much of a hugger anymore, so San stays perfectly still as the former locks his arms and legs around him, nuzzling into his chest.
“Oh, thank god. I’m so happy to see you,” Yeosang sighs. “He locked me in here for a prank, and I swear he left and forgot about me. I don’t have my phone, so I couldn’t call for help.”
“Who?”
Yeosang props up onto his elbows, getting serious. “Who do you think? Jung Wooyoung!”
San stares up at Yeosang and brushes back his fluffy, white hair. Yeosang is also not wearing makeup today, other than a light spread of BB cream to conceal his skin’s blemishes. His birthmark still stands out, and San appreciates it with his fingers.
“Why would he do that?” San scowls. Wooyoung hasn’t played a prank like that on the members in years, not since they were practically children, running around the streets of South Korea trying to make it big in the industry. Now that they are older and more popular, with fans worldwide who love them, they’ve lost most of that whimsy.
“Because I said that,” Yeosang gazes down, and he suddenly realizes their compromising position. “I said that I would sneak over to your apartment tonight to keep you company… You know, since the others are gone.”
“So, he locked you in a cabinet and left,” San repeats, just to get the facts straight. Because the whole situation is starting to sound very not-straight.
“I don’t think he expected you to come back to work,” Yeosang says quietly. His eyes flicker up to San’s, lashes fluttering, and fuck, he looks so beautiful with this new hair. The white locks frame his round face, making him appear as an angel. “I mean, he’s probably at your place right now, waiting.”
San’s hands slide up Yeosang’s thighs, coming to rest at his hips. It’s still a polite location on this man who doesn’t always like to be touched. However, the spark in Yeosang’s big eyes says that he feels quite differently tonight.
“I guess he can wait a little longer,” San decides. His fingers drag up Yeosang’s shirt, landing on the bare skin of his waist. “Kiss me?”
Yeosang stares at him for barely a moment before he leans down. Their noses brush, and Yeosang presses his mouth firmly against San’s. San’s lips are a bit chapped and bitten from talking to himself for over half an hour on his livestream. However, Yeosang doesn’t seem to notice as he kisses deeper and deeper. San licks at the seam of Yeosang’s lips, and Yeosang parts them, allowing him in.
San groans as he tastes him. After the I-love-you relay during their Japanese fanmeeting and their forcibly PG social media challenges, San has been dying to kiss him again. But often, Yeosang is like a skittish wild animal, and San has to be patient to even approach him.
“Hold on. You must be so dehydrated,” San says suddenly, realizing where he is. “And hungry!”
Yeosang blinks blearily. His cheeks are already flushed. It’s hard to see in the low light, but the way his pupils swallow up his irises is so entrancing.
“I’m okay,” Yeosang says timidly. “I think I fell asleep in there for a little while. I don’t feel too hungry.”
San sits up, cradling Yeosang in his arms. Yeosang lands in San’s lap with a cute yelp.
“There’s no way you’re okay! Let’s get you fed and take you home. Then, I’m berating Wooyoung for doing that to you!”
“But, San-ah…” Yeosang says, gingerly sitting down. He rubs the front of his pants against San’s crotch and peers up, supplicant. “I want something else right now.”
In one motion, San stands and lifts Yeosang onto the counter. Paper cups clatter and roll to the floor. Yeosang’s head bumps into the wall behind him as San crashes their lips together. San’s heart is pounding. Seeing Yeosang this needy, seeing Yeosang actually want him, is making warmth pool in his core.
“Right now?” San asks, double-checking. He exhales hard against Yeosang’s mouth, their foreheads touching.
“Right now,” Yeosang repeats, hands diving for San’s jeans. He unbuttons and unzips him with a skill he shouldn’t have. Then, his larger hands are around San’s cock, and San’s mind blanks. His dick is still soft but rapidly coming to life, becoming stiffer and longer with each squeeze.
“Wait, the CCTV!” San jolts back from Yeosang’s lips.
Yeosang shakes his head, his grip on San’s dick tight. “Don’t you remember the one in here is broken? Someone stole the mochi you were keeping, and we still don’t know who it was.”
“Shit,” San groans, recalling. Then, Yeosang strokes down his hard cock, and he groans again—in a much different tenor. “Wow, we’re really gonna do it here?”
“Don’t act so virtuous. I know you and Wooyoung already have tons of times,” Yeosang pouts.
“If you wanted to join,” San begins. He pulls down Yeosang’s pants and underwear, and Yeosang shimmies on the counter to help him. “You could have just asked us.”
“Ask the happy couple if I can be a third? No way.” Yeosang unconsciously grips him harder.
“Shit, Sangie,” San moans. “You know we aren’t dating.”
“The whole world knows you’re dating! It’s only you two who don’t.”
“If we’re dating, then why am I here doing this with you?” San asks.
Yeosang pauses, and San takes the opportunity to drag Yeosang’s hips toward him. He exclaims as he slides down the counter. San’s cock drags against his erection. Any answer he could have given is promptly extracted from his brain. They are both so single-minded.
“Do you have lube on you?” San asks.
“I should have some in my backpack,” Yeosang says in a rush so his tongue won’t catch up to his embarrassment. “I don’t have any condoms, but you can do it raw.”
“I…” San has to stop for a second, flabbergasted. “Your bag is here, too?”
“Wooyoung kicked it somewhere before he left,” Yeosang says.
“He’s seriously—! He should be lucky I’m not Hongjoong.”
“Oh, there! It’s under the table.”
Sure enough, Yeosang’s familiar backpack is shoved into a corner, out of sight.
“I’ll grab it,” San says.
Lube procured, San turns to see Yeosang still perched on the counter. His butt is half off the surface, big cock angled up toward his stomach. His legs are bare, one bent with his foot on the countertop, the other swinging off the side. It’s so deeply arousing.
Wasting no time, San coats his fingers as he walks back. With his clean hand, he yanks Yeosang forward by the neck. The other goes right for his hole.
“Ah!” Yeosang gasps at San’s cold touch. Then, San’s finger enters, and Yeosang breathes hard through the adjustment.
“You’re really tight,” San says, his index finger only halfway in.
“It’s… been a while,” Yeosang pants.
“Like I said, you could have just asked.”
San slides the rest of the way in. Yeosang jolts, tightening around him. The webs of San’s fingers press against Yeosang’s ass, and San’s palm rests against his taint.
“I don’t want to,” Yeosang says, frowning.
San caresses inside Yeosang’s hole. “Because you like it better when I’m the one chasing you? You prefer it when we’re on stage so you can be the one to say no?”
Yeosang’s eyes widen. He’s so innocent sometimes that it’s easy to read the expressions on his face. It’s what San finds so cute about him. Despite his looks and talent, Yeosang remains this genuine and humble.
“How long has it been?” San asks. He slides a second finger in.
“Last month… after ACON, with Wooyoung,” Yeosang says through clenched teeth.
“Relax, baby,” San soothes, massaging Yeosang’s nape at the same time. “That performance… Wooyoung was really feeling himself. He topped you, then?”
“Yeah,” Yeosang admits quietly.
“I didn’t know that.”
“S-sorry.”
“No, don’t be,” San interjects. “Because he came to my room and fucked me, too, I was just surprised.”
“Th-then—ahh!”
San shoves a third digit in with the rest. Yeosang is tight enough to break his fingers.
“Then?” San teases.
“Then, you aren’t jealous?”
“Why would I be? He and I aren’t dating,” San frowns.
Yeosang’s eyebrows stitch together, but he says nothing. Sighing, he leans against the wall and pulls his thighs to his chest.
“I think I’m ready,” he says, presenting his hole for San.
Biting his lip, San stands, shoulders falling back. He slicks his cock with lube, never once asking why Yeosang keeps this stuff in his backpack when it has been a month since he last had sex.
San pushes his cock against Yeosang’s entrance. He watches carefully as he is sucked into the puffy tightness. Yeosang’s abs flex, and his cock pulses. He’s still hard, and that makes San happy. San gives Yeosang a few strokes as he bottoms out. Precum coats his palm, mixing with the lube already slathered over San’s dirty hand.
“Nngh… damn it, San…” Yeosang moans.
His head falls back, and San kisses down his neck as he fucks him slowly. San mouths at his Adam’s apple and licks into the hollow of his throat. Yeosang gags at the sensation, but he parts his lips to tell San to kiss him there, too. San surges up, capturing his mouth.
“Does it feel good?” San asks between kisses.
“So good,” Yeosang nods earnestly. He clings to San’s shoulders as their bodies rock together. He has been sitting on the counter for so long that his ass is going numb, but he doesn’t care. He grinds against San’s crotch, wanting more.
San leans back, smirking, before he thrusts in harder. The sounds of their fucking fill the small break room. It’s loud enough that neither hears the door open and close again. This time, the heavy lock falls into place, trapping three in this cramped space.
Yeosang’s gaze diverts behind San. His jaw falls slack in shock. Then, cold hands cover San’s eyes. San freezes, cock buried to the hilt inside Yeosang. They were caught. Literally with their pants off.
“Fuck, you two really came in here to have fun without me,” Wooyoung says in San’s ear.
“Listen, I—.”
“Shut up. I saw the tail end of your live—you saying you play well alone—and I drove here immediately.”
“Y-you just got here?”
“Yeah, why do you think I’m so fucking cold?” Wooyoung huffs. “It’s snowing outside.”
He lets go of San’s face, and San spins to see his expression. Wooyoung is frowning so deeply that lines etch into his forehead.
“You locked Yeosang in a cabinet,” San states.
“And? I was going to let him out eventually,” Wooyoung diverts petulantly, not mentioning that he most definitely forgot about it. He grabs San’s hips toward him, pulling him halfway out of Yeosang. He grinds against San’s butt. “Whatever, can I join?”
“He could have starved to death!” San yells, which is an exaggeration.
“We have to be back here tomorrow morning. There’s no way he would have starved,” Wooyoung says, rolling his eyes.
“You aren’t taking this seriously enough! If he had to pee, what was he supposed to do? And what if a staff member found him first—instead of us? What if a fan or a reporter saw him like that? It would make headlines for all the wrong reasons!”
Wooyoung stares at his feet. His hands drop from San’s hips. “Okay, okay, I get it. Stop yelling at me. I’m sorry, alright?”
“Tell that to Yeosang.”
Wooyoung glances at the boy spread open on the break room counter. “I’m sorry, Sangie.”
“It’s okay,” Yeosang says, reaching out to grab Wooyoung’s hand. “I know you would have come back eventually.”
“Don’t just forgive him so quickly,” San snaps, eyebrows lifting in exasperation. He squeezes one of Yeosang’s thighs because he cannot verbalize his frustration enough.
Wooyoung drops his gaze to the floor. “I am sorry, though. I just wanted…”
“What do I always say? Just talk to me if you have something on your mind,” San says.
“And what about you?” Wooyoung shouts back, eyes flashing. He glares at San, cheeks darkened with blush. “What do you want, San? We’ve been doing this for years already! I’m sick of feeling like this all the time! I don’t want to get mad at you for nothing. I don’t want to hurt Yeosang-ie! So, what is it? Do you want him or me? Both of us? No one at all?”
“Young-ah,” Yeosang gasps.
Wooyoung slams his hand on the counter, looking away. “Never mind. You two continue. I’m going home.”
“Wait.” San steps forward and grabs his hand. “Don’t go.”
Wooyoung goes rigid. Aren’t those the words he has always wanted to hear? San so effortlessly sounds like the protagonist of every romance drama ever.
Wooyoung turns, tamping down the hope from his heart. He focuses very hard to avoid gaping at San’s lube-slicked cock shining under the emergency lights. San did it—he stopped fucking Yeosang to talk to him? San’s pants are half-off, at his thighs, and Yeosang is still bare and sticky from the waist down. This whole situation is so ridiculous. Couldn’t Wooyoung have planned a better time to shout his confession in a rage? Even that was so not cool…
“I don’t know what I want, either,” San admits.
Okay, well. There it is. Wooyoung has to give himself some grace for lasting this long with his feelings. While he has known about San and Yeosang’s trysts—Wooyoung and Yeosang aren’t best friends for nothing—this is the first time he has seen them fucking for real. His pants feel tight, but his heart is hollow.
“Stop it. Don’t make that face yet,” San begs.
Wooyoung schools his features. He wipes the disappointment and takes a deep breath while San searches for the right words. Yeosang subtly pulls his shirt lower over himself.
“I like both of you more than I’ve ever liked anyone, and I don’t know what to do with that,” San confesses. He chews at his lip, guilt shadowing his expression. “I can’t choose, and I know it’s not right, but—.”
“What the fuck?” Wooyoung interrupts, scowling. His pulse begins anew, almost drowning out San’s words.
Yeosang sits up, unconsciously leaning toward the pair.
“No, I know it’s awful for me to—.”
Wooyoung grabs San’s biceps to force his gaze up. And shake him, for good measure. Wooyoung glances once at Yeosang, who nods.
“No, you idiot. Just choose both of us,” Wooyoung says forcefully.
“How would I—? I can’t marry both of you,” San says, baffled. He gapes between the two of them like a surfaced fish.
“You can’t marry either of us, anyway. We’re in Korea,” Wooyoung says logically.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be able to marry both of you anywhere. It’s unprecedented. Even the movies don’t—.”
“Then, we make history,” Wooyoung grins. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted to do?”
“Y-you mean it?” San asks, carefully studying their expressions. “You won’t get jealous of each other? You both also want to date…?”
Yeosang smiles encouragingly and squeezes San’s hand.
Meanwhile, Wooyoung scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “You think you’re so special that we would get jealous?”
“I don’t know. You almost killed Yeosang because you wanted to sleep over at mine instead,” San frowns.
“Shut up,” Wooyoung whines, groaning. He absolutely was that jealous. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”
“And now you are?” San raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Wooyoung beams, hopping on the balls of his feet. “I think I’m right where I need to be. So, bend over. I wanna fuck you.”
“Oh,” Yeosang breathes, covering his mouth.
“Youngie…” San complains.
“Don’t act like that!” Wooyoung says. “You fucked me two days ago. It’s my turn, now.”
“Not that! I don’t care about—.”
San chokes a little as Wooyoung grabs his waist. Wooyoung positions San between Yeosang’s parted legs again.
“Don’t we need to talk more?” San insists.
“No, that’s for the boring romance stories you read. You’re still hard, and I want to fuck you while you fuck Sangie.”
“This is crazy,” San bemoans.
“It’s okay,” Yeosang says. He has to grip the base of his dick as he watches Wooyoung manhandle the broader male.
Wooyoung reaches around to position San’s cock before Yeosang’s slippery hole. Wooyoung rolls his hips into San’s, pushing him back in.
Yeosang’s throat tenses, but he smiles at the two of them. Wooyoung stands behind San, with his chin on San’s wide shoulder. Yeosang has known his best friend for a decade. This is exactly the happiness he has always wished for Wooyoung.
“I know you love his craziness,” Yeosang teases, flicking San’s chest over his shirt.
San pouts with a frown. His eyes flare incredulously, but his lips make the littlest downward U-shape.
“I love you, too,” San tells him. Then, he looks behind. “I love both of you.”
Yeosang cannot help the happiness that shines across his face. He caresses San’s cheekbone.
Wooyoung’s forehead drops heavily onto San, interrupting the moment. “You’re both being way too lovey-dovey,” he protests.
Yeosang reads right through him. “Someone’s embarrassed,” he taunts.
“Shut it.” Wooyoung glares at him over San’s shoulder like a cat whose tail was pulled.
San reaches back to touch Wooyoung anywhere. “Okay, I won’t say any more,” he assures.
“Whatever,” Wooyoung huffs.
He shoves San down onto Yeosang and spreads San’s cheeks roughly. He’s a lot less careful as he prepares San using Yeosang’s lube. However, San is accustomed to this. The pair has messed around a lot over the years.
“I can’t believe you kept this on you,” Wooyoung says breathily, already two fingers deep in San.
“After last time at the hotel, it was rough with only lotion,” Yeosang whimpers. He closes his eyes as San angles into his prostate again.
“So, that’s why,” San groans.
“No condoms tonight?” Wooyoung asks.
“I’m starting to feel like Yeosang-ah forgot on purpose,” San says.
“N-no! I—!” Yeosang doesn’t have an excuse, but they all know how air-headed he tends to be.
Wooyoung takes out his cock. He’s so hard from watching San and Yeosang fit into each other. Precum beads his swollen tip, but he squirts more lube to be nice. Lining up with San’s slick hole, Wooyoung shoves in.
San moans sharply, and Yeosang’s thighs tighten around him.
“Ohh,” Wooyoung sighs. This is definitely worth his shitty confession. This and the innumerable years where he will get to confidently say San is his and Yeosang is his, and they are all each other’s… Heat bursts from Wooyoung’s chest and spreads to his extremities, warming up his winter-chilled skin.
Wooyoung cannot help himself. He fucks San hard and fast. San, trapped between Yeosang’s grip and Wooyoung’s pounding, can’t do anything but take it. San’s face lands on Yeosang’s chest. Yeosang bites his lip and strokes San’s hair. Over San’s arched back, he can see Wooyoung’s thick cock sliding in and out. He can feel the echoes of Wooyoung’s every thrust.
Wooyoung catches Yeosang staring. Smirking, he leans over San’s blissed-out body to give Yeosang a quick peck.
“Ah!” Yeosang jolts, shocked.
“It’s been a while,” Wooyoung says, regretfully.
Yeosang’s bottom lip juts out. “You can… kiss me more.”
Wooyoung grins. Copying San’s chivalry, he says, “I would love to.”
They share open-mouthed kisses over San’s head. For a while, San can only watch as he pants hot breaths into Yeosang’s sweater. Then, he lifts up onto his muscular arms to join.
The pair parts just enough to let San join the mix. Touching everywhere they can reach, they finally strip off their shirts to get as much skin contact as possible. San slides his hand down Yeosang’s full chest, and Wooyoung grabs both of San’s breasts.
They kiss as three, biting, licking, and sucking. Wooyoung kisses across San’s jawline to his ears as San tongues into Yeosang’s mouth. Then, Wooyoung returns, and Yeosang slides his tongue into the minuscule gap of San and Wooyoung’s lips.
“I’m gonna come,” San gasps. His back muscles flex, helpless to hold back.
Wooyoung spanks San’s bare ass and bites little marks along San’s exposed shoulderblades. “Go ahead, jagiya,” he coos.
The pet name breaks San’s restraint. He barely pulls out in time, spilling hot semen untouched. It shoots straight up Yeosang’s torso, to nearly his neck.
“Don’t waste it,” Wooyoung chastises, grimacing through how fucking tight San is squeezing his cock.
He tugs San’s dick downward. His touch leads a second spurt to coat Yeosang’s shaft and balls. Then, Wooyoung shoves San’s dick back inside Yeosang’s hole. He thrusts forcefully into San to push him in deeper.
“Youngie—fuck!” San cries. “Yeosangie, oh, my god!” He bites into Yeosang’s shoulder as he shudders, releasing everything he has into him.
Yeosang gasps, but he doesn’t dare move. He can feel every pulse inside of him.
Wooyoung smooths his hand down San’s spine. When San’s trembling subsides, Wooyoung pulls out. San’s cock slips out of Yeosang’s ass, and he rolls to the right, barely supporting himself with the cabinet. White cum slowly drips to the floor. San pants heavily like when he was running through the halls earlier, though that was exaggerated and this is real.
Wooyoung dips two fingers in the thick semen painting Yeosang’s chest and places them in Yeosang’s waiting mouth. Yeosang sucks around him, eyes fluttering shut. Wooyoung can tell Yeosang is close, with how pliant he has become, not complaining about what dirty thing Wooyoung is making him do.
He spreads Yeosang’s thighs. Removing his fingers, he drags the rest of San’s cum down into Yeosang’s hole. He slicks himself with San’s release and then smoothly slides inside.
They both moan. Yeosang feels different from San, and Wooyoung has to take a moment to adjust to the new sensations. Yeosang’s thighs wrap around him, tugging him in.
“Move, please,” he begs. Though Yeosang’s bangs are a mess, he looks insanely pretty like this.
Wooyoung nods, unsteady now. He braces himself on the countertop.
Before he can move, San pops his head through the space made by Wooyoung’s arm and Yeosang’s thigh and stomach. San takes Yeosang’s cock into his mouth. He licks up the conglomeration of Yeosang’s precum and his own cum.
Giggling, Wooyoung leans back to give San more room. He grabs Yeosang’s thighs like how those two fucked earlier. Like this, he has a much better view of San’s cheeks hollowing around Yeosang’s shaft. Yeosang’s abdomen flexes rhythmically as his orgasm nears, and his fingers curl into San’s dark hair.
Reaching up, Wooyoung rolls one of Yeosang’s nipples between his fingers. Yeosang arches into him with a cry.
Wooyoung knows just how good San’s mouth must feel sucking down his cock with a flat tongue and eager throat. He laces his fingers with Yeosang’s and shoves San’s head down until his nose is flush with Yeosang’s pelvis. San gags, throat expanding with effort.
Yeosang has the largest cock and fullest balls of the three of them, the length of it reaching his belly button and the bulk of his sack fitting comfortably in a palm. Wooyoung’s is the next in size, given his impressive girth. This all makes it that much better to watch San desperately swallow Yeosang to the back of his throat while his dick swings, softening and sated, between his legs.
“Ahh—!” Yeosang yells, high-pitched and hoarse in his normally deep voice.
Wooyoung keeps San’s head there as Yeosang ejaculates directly inside. Then, Wooyoung yanks San up by his hair. He firmly strokes Yeosang’s cock to coat San’s face with more and more cum. It splatters up San’s left cheek, nearly hitting his eye. San opens his mouth to catch some on his tongue. Wooyoung twists his fist up Yeosang’s length, from base to tip, in deeply oversensitive ministrations.
Finally, legs shaking and unable to take any more, Yeosang pushes Wooyoung’s hands away. San drops onto his knees, nearly landing in his own cum, the puddles that dripped out of Yeosang’s hole earlier.
San’s jaw drops, and he sticks out his semen-laden tongue to let Wooyoung use him. Wooyoung grabs both sides of San’s head and drives his cock in with a long groan. His hands and San’s face are all slippery with Yeosang’s thick fluids.
With effort, Yeosang sits onto his tender and numb ass. Cum and lube pool out of him onto the countertop. He draws Wooyoung’s waist to him and licks swirls over his erect nipple.
It only takes a few thrusts before Wooyoung comes so hard that San coughs and chokes.
With his last senses, Wooyoung quickly yanks out, but San is so eager for it that he chases him down. Wooyoung’s tailbone strikes the edge of the counter, and San presses his face back into Wooyoung’s crotch to deepthroat his pulsing cock. Wooyoung moans his name. Yeosang diverts Wooyoung’s mouth, kissing him through the orgasm that San sucks from his core.
When Wooyoung’s dick is soft and unable to release more, San stands—or, rather, hobbles upright. He collapses into the pair, and they welcome him into their arms.
Yeosang delicately holds San’s neck, squeezing lightly to show how much this meant to him. San kisses him in return, and Yeosang tastes all of their fluids. Wooyoung’s hand travels down San’s muscular back and squeezes his ass. He lethargically dips a few fingers inside his stretched hole as they exchange the flavors on their tongues.
It takes many, many water-dampened paper towels to clean up afterwards. Wooyoung keeps jokingly spinning San around to feign going for a second round, to which San will playfully smack his arm and Yeosang will giggle but tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. They are definitely fucking again once they get home.
“I’ll drive us back,” Wooyoung offers.
“Good, because I don’t think I can walk a hundred meters if I tried,” San sighs as he buttons up Yeosang’s pants for him. Wooyoung finds Yeosang’s sweater and pulls it over his head.
“Especially not if you have to carry Yeosang, too,” Wooyoung notes.
“Hey, I can walk,” Yeosang attests, but his heavy tongue slurs his words. He hops off the counter but nearly falls to his knees. San catches him with a hand under his chest.
“Okay, that’s enough of that. I’m going to get the car,” Wooyoung says, tugging his sweatshirt on.
“We’ll come with. It’s dark,” San says.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” Wooyoung replies.
Yeosang presses his lips together to keep from smiling.
“No, just… It is probably less suspicious if all three of us are together,” San excuses lamely.
“Sure, come on,” Wooyoung says with a smile, not buying it.
San secures an arm around Yeosang’s shoulders to keep him upright, and they follow Wooyoung out of the break room. They leave the door open to air it out. Their trash bag of evidence is tied and hidden in Yeosang’s backpack to be discarded elsewhere.
Down the dark hallways, San cannot help glancing around for anyone’s presence. Thankfully, they are alone, but it is eerily liminal. He didn’t feel this trepidation when he was streaming to his fans earlier.
It is strange to think that he felt so lonely when he could have relied on the two at his side now. He truly is a hypocrite for always telling Wooyoung and Yeosang to talk to him when he couldn’t do the same. He was terrified of hurting their feelings, never imagining that they would want the same as him.
They pass by the stairwell, but Wooyoung confidently continues past to the elevator dock.
“You didn’t come up the stairs?” San asks.
“No?” Wooyoung says, pressing the down button.
Goosebumps raise across San’s skin. The door to the stairs is firmly shut when, earlier, it was ajar. San is about to explain that there might be a ghost in the building when Wooyoung slaps his ass.
He leans into San’s ear. “Will you fuck me when we get home? In your big bed?” he whispers.
From the other side, Yeosang pouts. “Are you sharing secrets already?”
“No,” Wooyoung smirks, licking his lips. “There’s no way I’m leaving you out. I still haven’t felt your mouth tonight.”
They spend the next five nights consecutively at San’s place. When his housemates come back, any free bed or empty apartment will do. Though they have separately known each other for years, they haven’t known each other together like this before. They attempt every combination possible, savoring the unique savor of each other and the way they bloom when three are intertwined.
As for the ghost, well, San shouldn’t bite off more than he can chew, pretending he can handle a horror game of his own creation. Now, he has two boyfriends to keep him in check, two partners to spoil endlessly, two lovers who can kiss away his loneliness before he ever needs to ask. The ghost, whether it was real or not, is comfortably forgotten.