Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jisung doesn’t think his posture has ever been so prim and perfect—or his dick ever so hard.

It shouldn’t be. This is humiliating, enough that it’s going to be borderline traumatic.

He’d tried to fish the intrusion out. He’d tried so hard. He swore to every god whose name he’s ever heard uttered that he would splurge and buy a proper dildo if he could just get the rubber-banded mass of pens and pencils out of his ass.

He’d searched his apartment high and low for anything vaguely phallic after he’d ascertained that yes, he wanted to get fucked and no, there were no cucumbers or carrots in his produce drawer. But—well, times are tough. He doesn’t have many possessions in his new apartment, but he does have a wealth of pens and pencils, and a rubber band ball.

He didn’t think his ass would… would suck it up inside him. He hadn’t been able to get a grip on it, the intrusion slipping past his fingertips every time. After a fair amount of time googling and reading Reddit threads, he had come to the difficult conclusion that his only option was to go to the emergency room and admit that he was a sexual deviant.

“Han Jisung,” calls a disinterested voice. Okay, he can be normal, it’s just a matter of shuffling up and—

The bundle inside of him jostles directly against his prostate and his knees quake. That’s the other problem. Not only is Jisung a sexual deviant who shoves random household items up his ass, he’s a sexual deviant who’s fucking turned on by it still.

It’s not because of the embarrassing situation—he’s not really getting off on the humiliation of it—it’s in spite of it. It feels good, at the end of the day, and that fact manages to be true despite the fact that he’s in the fucking emergency room and some poor nurse is going to have to fish a lubed-up bundle of office supplies out of his fucking ass.

He composes himself and makes to awkwardly shuffle towards the voice that had called him. He takes a deep breath and slides his eyes up to find the poor son of a bitch who’s going to have to deal with him and—

Oh, no. He’s hot. He had to get the fucking hottest nurse in the ER? What kind of sadistic Grey’s Anatomy plotline is this?

He looks harried. His hair has been swept off his forehead, but mostly in an attempt to keep his bangs out of his eyes. He’s tall and slender and—

And he’s going to be digging around in Jisung’s ass in a decidedly unsexy way.

He waits patiently for Jisung to waddle towards him, checking over the chart in his hands. “Up on the table, please,” he instructs. “My name is Kim Seungmin, I’ll be your nurse this evening. What seems to be the problem?”

He’d already admitted to the check-in nurse what the problem was. He had fumbled for words, something more elevated than I was horny and shoved something inadvisable up my ass about it. He’d instead said something about a foreign body in my rectum as if he hadn’t the slightest clue how that inconvenient foreign body had wound up there.

He has his hands clutched between his thighs, trying to stay still before the bundle inside of him rubs up against that delicious spot again. “I, um,” he starts, almost shaking. “Foreign body? In, uh. Rectum.”

“Hm,” Seungmin says, still staring at his chart. “And let me guess: you fell on it?”

His cheeks burn. He must hear that excuse all the time, but Jisung can’t even pretend. Seungmin makes it obvious that there’s no point lying to him. “No, um,” he says. “I just—I was horny.”

“So what’s up there?” he asks, already crossing the room to snap on latex gloves.

“Um,” Jisung says, resisting the urge to squirm. “I rubber-banded a bunch of pens and pencils together.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows fly up in alarm. “Sharpened?”

Please, Jisung isn’t that stupid. “They’re blunt! I put it in, um. Pointier side down.”

He heaves a sigh and squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. “Okay. Okay. I’m going to get this thing out of you before it punctures your rectum, but. Jesus. In the future remember two things for me: flared base and nothing remotely pointy.”

“Um, noted.”

“Alright,” Seungmin says, approaching the table. “I don’t want you to move around too much, okay? This thing could really hurt you. I’m going to help you onto your hands and knees, okay?”

Jisung doesn’t think his cheeks have ever burned more, and he’s still fucking hard. He could literally pierce his rectum, according to Seungmin, and he’s still hard despite that.

“But first,” Seungmin says. “I’m going to gently—gently—feel your abdomen to determine how deep the intrusion is.”

Jisung wants to die. He—he didn’t have to come, right? He could have just lived with a wad of pencils up his ass for the rest of forever, right?

“Lift your shirt up for me, okay?”

His shirt is the only thing blocking the fact that he’s almost grotesquely hard. God, Jesus. With shaking hands, he lifts the hem of his shirt about halfway up his torso. Seungmin’s eyes perfunctorily drag down to his crotch and then politely back up again.

“Relax,” he says, and his gloved hands gently press into Jisung’s stomach, right below his belly button.

It feels… incredible. Again, in spite of the burning shame he feels. Like, he nearly blacks out, he thinks. There are stars in his vision. Seungmin is close enough that he can smell the hint of cologne that still clings to him after what has undoubtedly been a long shift.

Jesus, this guy is just trying to do his job while Jisung is biting his lip to keep from whimpering in his ear.

“It’s not massive,” Seungmin murmurs, digging his fingers in and feeling the small bulge deep in Jisung’s abdomen. “Just tricky to get ahold of, huh?”

Jisung opens his mouth to speak, but all that exits his mouth is a shaky, breathy exhale, right against Seungmin’s ear.

“Right,” Seungmin says, pointedly ignoring the fact that Jisung is losing it, throbbing mere inches from Seungmin’s palm. He withdraws his hand. “I’m going to give you a quick sedative, as I’ll have to use a speculum to get enough space to work with.”

A speculum. Jisung knows that word, and he might fucking faint about it. Seungmin exits the room for a moment and returns with a cup of water and the largest fucking pill Jisung has ever seen. His hands are still trapped between his thighs, desperate, and Seungmin quirks an eyebrow before he places the pill on Jisung’s tongue for him and holds the paper cup to his lips.

“Once I get you on your hands and knees,” Seungmin informs him, “I’ll use a numbing gel on your anus, as well.”

He nods numbly, moving gently with Seungmin’s help and support to his hands and knees. He’d never been put in a hospital gown, probably because he could puncture his fucking rectum if he moves too much, apparently, and so Seungmin has to tug his sweatpants down for him—just down around his ass, so his hole is exposed.

God, he’s rock fucking hard.

There’s a few moments where there’s a lot of rustling, and then Seungmin says, “It’ll be a bit cold.”

And then his stupid hot nurse is rubbing numbing gel on his hole so he can fish out the stupid fucking thing Jisung had shoved up his own ass.

“It’ll take a few minutes to work,” Seungmin informs him flatly. Tears come to Jisung’s eyes, hot and shameful.

He tries very hard not to think about the fact that he’s ass up on an exam table, getting ready to get medically spread so his unrealistically attractive nurse can pull a foreign body from his rectum. He’s going to buy a dildo after this, he doesn’t care if it fucking bankrupts him.

There’s a lot of clinking and prepping behind him, but he presses his sweaty forehead to the paper beneath him and just waits for it to be over.

“Alright,” Seungmin says. “How are we doing? Can you feel this at all?” There’s some sort of pressure against his hole, but none of the usual electric pleasure and no discomfort.

“No,” he admits quietly.

“Alright,” Seungmin says. “There’ll likely be a bit of discomfort, and the speculum will be cold.”

Jisung can’t feel much of anything, just a coldness, a blunt pressure. And then—click. click. click. And he feels the spread. If he hadn’t been numbed, it’d probably hurt, but it’s probably also make him fucking crazy, too. It’d probably burn so good, and he stifles another little whimper at the thought.

“Okay, Jisung?” Seungmin asks.

“Fine,” he says, higher-pitched than usual.

“I’ll go a little wider,” he informs him, and he does. Jisung wants to grind his heel down against his cock, but that would be horribly weird, weirder and more traumatic than this entire situation already is.

There’s an ache, a dull burn. He wonders how wide he’s spread, if it’s comical or hot. He feels Seungmin’s fingers in his hole, fumbling around. And then—the pressure deep within him begins to recede. It travels up and up—and then it’s gone, and there’s a thud on the prep table behind him.

“Let me make sure there’s nothing else,” Seungmin murmurs, and his fingers prod around again. Jisung is fully trembling on the exam table, and he’s positive Seungmin can tell how turned on he is. By this, of all things. Therapy? Does he need therapy? Is that it?

Then, his fingers withdraw. The speculum clicks itself back down to normal size and slides out of him. Seungmin doesn’t tug his sweatpants back up. “Sit back up, please,” he says, meaning you can move again, I’m not doing that for you.

Jisung tugs his pants back up and, with quaking limbs, drags himself back to a normal sitting position. He’s empty. He’s hard. Seungmin is unreasonably hot, and the wet bundle of pens and pencils he’s just pulled from his ass is unceremoniously dumped onto a little metal tray.

“So,” Seungmin says, snapping his gloves off and throwing them in a biohazard bin. “You’re good. But, I don’t want you to become one of our ER regulars, okay?” he says seriously, and Jisung knows he’s tomato red. “So, you didn’t hear this from me, because a nurse would never tell you to fuck yourself with anything unsafe. But: if a dildo with a flared base is out of the budget right now, get yourself a flashlight. No batteries. Use it handle first and the head will act as a stopper against your hole. Alright? I’ve never had any issues with it.”

I’ve never had any issues with it. Has… has Seungmin fucked himself with a flashlight? And is admitting it to a patient? No, Jisung has to be reading into it. Or Seungmin has misspoken.

“O-okay,” Jisung says, squeezing his thighs together. He’s a little numb from the sedative but somehow still hard. “Um—how long until the sedative wears off?”

Surprisingly, Seungmin cocks a little smile. It’s like it slips out without him meaning, because in the next second, he’s smothering it. “A few hours or so. I would go home and rest, Jisung.”

He’s not going to do that. He’s going to fuck himself silly. He’s going to fuck himself halfway to Sunday, whether he can feel it or not. But he nods anyway, knowing that Seungmin sees right through him.

“Let me get your discharge paperwork,” he says, and wheels over to the computer. He types a bit, leaves the room for a few more moments. Jisung presses the heel of his hand down onto his bulge and—he’s numb. It doesn’t feel as intensely good as it usually would, and he whines. It’s going to be a rough few hours.

The doorknob turns, and he moves his hand away swiftly. “Right,” Seungmin says, passing the paperwork to Jisung. “Look at that all carefully, but you should be good to go. I’m serious about resting tonight, Jisung.”

He glances perfunctorily down at the paperwork; there’s a sticky note. With Seungmin’s name. A phone number. A cheeky little note: If you’d like a demonstration about safe penetration.

His eyes rip up to Seungmin’s; his face is fully impassive.

“Oh, dear,” he deadpans. “Who stuck that on there?”

And that’s how (once his ass has healed to Seungmin’s standards) he finds himself sitting on Seungmin’s couch, quaking in his (figurative) boots. Seungmin’s in the kitchen fixing him a drink, and he is trying very hard not to panic.

Because Seungmin is the hot ER nurse who barely 72 hours prior had fished a foreign body from his ass, and now he’s going to (safely) shove something less ridiculous back up there.

And Jisung is ridiculously excited about it.

“A screwdriver,” Seungmin announces, coming back into the living room. “I assumed you’d want something where you can’t taste the liquor, right?”

“Um—yeah, thanks…” he mumbles, quietly accepting the glass. Before he can bring it to his lips, Seungmin is descending on him, straddling his lap and facing him.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, as Jisung’s heart pounds. He brings a gentle hand up under his chin and tilts his head up. “I’m an expert. And I promise I won’t even use the word anus or rectum.”

“S-sorry, I’m just—”

“Shh,” he shushes, and guides the cup to Jisung’s lips. “Drink, you’ll feel better. You’re a nervous little thing, aren’t you?”

He drinks obediently; it just tastes like orange juice. He drains half of it and looks back up at Seungmin. “Sorry, just—I’ve never done—”

“I know, princess,” Seungmin says, just on the edge of condescension. “I’ll take care of you, I’ll make you feel good.” He looks down at Jisung’s half-full glass before prying it from his fingers. He downs the rest of it in a gulp and stretches to put the glass on the coffee table. “Just relax, okay?”

And his lips dip down to press against Jisung’s, deceptively gentle. From this angle, Seungmin has the appropriate leverage to lick into his mouth and swallow the answering groans, to grind his hips down into his lap and feel Jisung chub up against him.

It’s filthy, if deceptively soft, and Jisung is gasping by the time Seungmin finally pulls away. “Bedroom,” Seungmin says softly, unentangling Jisung’s fingers from his shirt. “Easier than on the couch, yeah?”

Jisung is pretty sure he only makes it to the bedroom because Seungmin is physically dragging him. He feels a bit distant from himself, a bit hazy. And it’s not the modest amount of liquor he’d consumed—it’s Seungmin, or perhaps what Seungmin has promised him.

He’s pressed down onto the bed; Seungmin runs a hand up the inside of his thigh, then over his clothed bulge. “This isn’t what you want, though, is it?” he asks, squeezing gently.

“No,” he whispers. And god, no, it isn’t. It feels fucking amazing but Jisung craves something different.

“Get undressed while I grab a few things,” Seungmin instructs, and his weight is gone from the bed. He squats on the ground, roots through the lower drawer of his nightstand while Jisung sheds clothes like he’s being paid.

Seungmin leaves the drawer open, but returns with nothing other than a large bottle of lube. “You know the position,” he says, teasing, and Jisung’s face flushes red again. But he does, he knows the supremely humiliating position Seungmin wants him in, and he rolls over onto his hands and knees, knocks himself down onto his elbows and raises his ass in the air. “Good,” he praises, and this time Jisung gets no warning before Seungmin is drizzling cold lube onto his hole. “What’s the biggest you’ve taken, Jisung?”

“God, uh—” he tries, but his brain is frazzled. “Like—8 inches?”

“Hm,” Seungmin hums. “How big do you wanna take?”

It’s something he doesn’t think about but in his most perverted fantasies. He wants—he wants to be split open, to feel it in his guts, to feel it the next morning. He wants inevitably more and more, and he’s disgustingly greedy for it.

A shudder runs up his spine; he suppresses a whine. “As much as you can give me,” he says in a whisper, and Seungmin’s hand curls possessively around his hip.

“Okay,” he says low, dangerous. “Let me know if you want to stop, or slow down, yeah? You want it to hurt a little, to burn?”

He chokes on his own spit. “Yeah,” he admits in a mumble. “I—yes, please.”

Seungmin presses a soft kiss to one of his cheeks. “So polite, aren’t you?”

He slips two fingers in straight off the bat, and Jisung presses his face down to the mattress, arches his back deep. It’s like a relief, the pressure of it, the fullness.

“Just need someone to take care of you, right, princess?” Seungmin asks. His voice is silky and velvety but no less teasing; he presses his ass back onto Seungmin’s fingers.

He’s making no special effort to brush against Jisung’s prostate, though of course he hits it—infuriatingly sporadically, lacking rhythm. The point of this isn’t to milk Jisung’s prostate, it’s to fill him, to stretch him to his limits—to borderline break him.

He goes up to three and then four fingers in shockingly quick succession. It burns and aches and takes Jisung’s breath away; Seungmin’s fingernails trail unforgivingly down his spine, grab handfuls of his ass.

And then his thumb nudges the edge of Jisung’s rim. “Please,” he mumbles like a prayer. He’s shaking like a leaf, and he wants Seungmin to force his way in, to carve a space for himself.

“Shh, needy little thing,” Seungmin croons back, but he sounds so adoring. “Relax, let me in.” His hand smooths up Jisung’s spine, pressing between his shoulder blades to anchor him firmly to the mattress.

His thumb slips in. There’s the aching bulge of his knuckles forcing past Jisung’s burning rim. And then—an intoxicating ease, as his rim relaxes again around Seungmin’s wrist.

Jisung babbles something incomprehensible even to himself, absolutely fucking beside himself. He has Seungmin’s entire hand wedged in his hole and he’s so not okay about it.

“Shh, pretty thing,” he soothes. “Do you feel good, princess?”

“Yes, Seungmin, I—god, you—”

“You’re gonna gape so pretty for me, beautiful,” he murmurs, flexing his hand. “Want me to cum in your pretty, gaping hole?”

Jisung is positive his hole gives a valiant clench around Seungmin’s wrist at the words, but he’s past coherency. He’s—he’s ruined, probably. Seungmin’s going to ruin his hole and he’s going to be so fucking pleased about it.

Seungmin’s fingers wiggle. “I can go a little deeper.”

Jisung is about to pass out. He’d take Seungmin up to the elbow if he could, and he’s too far gone to hold his whine back.

Gentle, Seungmin reminds him, “Words, gorgeous. You want me a little deeper or no?”

“Please,” he mumbles, mustering all available brain power for this task. “Please, as—as deep as you want. As deep as you can.”

“So perfect for me, baby,” he praises, and he wriggles his way slowly, agonizingly deeper. In all honesty, it’s probably barely another couple inches he wriggles in, but it feels enormous to Jisung. “You feel this?” he asks, and wiggles his fingers, deeper inside him than he’d think possible.

“Seungmin,” he groans, broken.

“Hush,” he says softly, and brings his other hand to the outside of Jisung’s stomach, presses his fingers in gently. “Gimme your hand, baby.”

Jisung does, and lets Seungmin press it into his abdomen, feel the way he’s absolutely annihilating his passage, and he moans loudly.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he says fondly, if a bit snarkily. “Need me to do this for you, yeah? I don’t want to see you in my ER again.”

Yeah, he thinks dazedly. He needs Seungmin. He needs Seungmin to punch a space deep within him, to fill him up.

“You wanna be fucked, baby?”

He does. The fullness is nice, the minute movements of Seungmin’s hand inside him, but—he’s greedy. He wants more. “Please, Seungmin,” he whispers. “Want your cock.”

He laughs. “Not mine, baby. Mine’s nowhere near big enough for you. That’s not what either of us want.”

He whines in confusion, cranes his neck around as Seungmin slowly and gently works his hand out of Jisung. He wipes it on a towel he’d brought in and returns to dig in the lower drawer of his nightstand.

“Roll onto your back, baby,” he tells him absently. Jisung does, feeling horribly empty and loose, and cranes his neck to see what Seungmin has.

He holds it up for Jisung to see, a wicked smile spread across his face.

A double-ended dildo. Massive, monstrous, deep purple. The thing has to be at least two feet, with bumps and ridges along its entire length. It’s as thick as Seungmin’s wrist at least, and Jisung’s mouth waters.

“Hang on,” Seungmin says, and lays it on the bed beside Jisung. From there, he strips his own clothes off. He straddles Jisung’s chest. He brings his hand around to his hole and—

There’s something protruding. Sometimes hard and silicone, and Seungmin lets out a fluttery little exhale. “Help me out, baby,” he purrs, crawling down Jisung’s chest. “Pull it out for me, yeah?”

It’s been inside him this whole time. Since well before Jisung had arrived. And he’s been fucking coherent.

He’s all but holding his breath as he grasps the ring at the base and tugs. It doesn’t budge at first; Seungmin’s hole is locked around it. He tugs a bit harder, and as it begins to breach his hole, he loses composure for the first time.

“Fuck,” he whines, and grips Jisung’s hair. He tilts his head back, presses desperate little kisses to his bared throat. “Oh my god, baby.” He groans and borderline sobs as Jisung slowly pulls it loose, breathing shaky exhales and ragged inhales against his skin.

He nuzzles against Jisung’s cheek, he licks into his mouth. It’s like a different Seungmin. When he pulls it loose, Seungmin lifts his head. His eyes are shining with tears, his pupils blown in the dim light of the room.

“Look,” he breathes, and Jisung holds the toy up so he can see.

It’s massive, and bulbous. The thickest bulb is at the base by the ring he’s holding, as wide around as his fist. It descends in a vaguely conical shape until the bulbs end up about the size of a chicken egg, and Jisung shudders.

“I’ll let you try it one day,” he promises, and tips his head down to kiss Jisung against, hungry.

“Seungmin,” he whines.

“Hush, Jisung,” he murmurs. “I know you’re empty. Let’s fix that, yeah?”

He doesn’t, though, not immediately. He takes the monstrous dildo and slaps half of it atop Jisung’s abdomen. It reaches just above his belly button, and he shudders.

And then Seungmin is lining it up and pressing it slowly into him. It’s not as thick as Seungmin’s fist had been but it is longer, and he’s panting and writhing by the time it’s fully situated. He’s so full that he parts his legs automatically, as if to accommodate the size of the thing. He almost can’t comprehend it, nearly feels like he can’t breathe.

“Feel, baby,” Seungmin says gently, nudging Jisung’s hand to his belly. He bears down a little and it’s there, the dildo, just beneath his fingertips. “You did that,” he reminds him in a coo, as if he hadn’t been the one stuffing it inside of Jisung. “You took it so well, beautiful.”

“Seungmin,” he says, and a tears slips down his cheek.

“I know,” he says, and swipes at the tear track left behind. “You’re good, right, princess?”

He’s so good it’s incomprehensible. He’s floating high above the clouds but also grounded by the settling fullness in his hole. “‘m so good, Seungminnie.”

“You are, baby,” Seungmin agrees, cradling his face adoringly. “Let me get settled and we can just rock together.”

Jisung watches as Seungmin grasps the other end of the dildo, slicks it in lube, and lines it up with his hole. He can’t see it entering him from this angle, straddling Jisung’s lap, but he can see his reaction as it breaches him. He’s surely gaping from what Jisung had just pulled from his hole, but he moans in utter satisfaction as he sinks back onto it.

When he does, when he fully settles in Jisung’s lap with the dildo buried inside of him, there’s a jutting of his abdomen, a little protrusion. It’s the tip of the dildo, Jisung realizes, and he groans.

Seungmin splays his own fingers over it, wide-eyed with lust and breathing heavily. “Jisung,” he says, pressing down on the bulge in his stomach. “Jisungie.”

There are a bare few inches of dildo connecting them; Seungmin collapses on his chest and mashes their lips together, needy, all traces of his composure now gone. “Come on, baby,” he urges, desperate. “Rock with me, I—god, I need this. Need you.”

They rut against each other, the dildo not doing much more than jostling inside of them—and it doesn’t need to. It’s deep, rubbing deliciously against the most hidden parts of them. In this position, their cocks rub together, and they’re both reduced to teary little messes, clutching at one another and babbling out incoherent, half-formed pleas.

Seungmin mouths along Jisung’s neck, sloppy and wet; Jisung cranes his head back to stare at the ceiling in uncomprehending bliss. “Want you to cum, Jisungie,” he murmurs, his tongue running along his neck. “Cum for me, sweet thing.”

There’s the deep-seated stretch that he can’t comprehend; there’s the dull achy throb. His eyes are open but he can’t see; he tenses and clenches and then shakes violently. Seungmin murmurs half-concocted praise to him through it, rutting more insistently down against him, grinding back against the dildo.

And then Seungmin goes limp atop him, stretching weakly to pet through his sweat-damp hair. “Good, baby,” he says, and his voice is wavering. “So good—so sweet for me.”

Seungmin works the dildo out of himself, shuddering and shaking and gasping. His legs falter as he tries to swing off of Jisung, and he nearly falls. He slides it out of Jisung, and he’s almost too gone to react. He whines and shivers, but that’s all.

“Come here,” he says, still sounding spent. “Come—I’ll take care of you. Let me take care of you.” He’s breathless, weak. He sounds like he needs someone to take care of him, but he insistently hauls Jisung to the bathroom.

He runs the bath—they’re both too shaky to stand in the shower—and braces Jisung against a wall, collapses to the floor. And he thumbs at his hole gently. Jisung knows he’s wide open, he can feel it.

“Turn around and look,” Seungmin says, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his knee.

The mirror’s behind him, and the sight he’s met with is absolutely wrecked. He’s ruffled and flushed, debauched. His hole is indeed gaping between his cheeks, and he whines at seeing himself like this.

“So pretty,” Seungmin murmurs dutifully, reverently, and he forces himself to his knees to lick gently into Jisung’s hole.

It’s so little but his rim is so sensitive that he nearly screams, his knees trembling.

“I know,” Seungmin soothes, stroking his hands down the backs of his thighs. “I know—sensitive, baby.”

He drags Jisung into the bath, making sure the water’s not too warm first. Honestly, it soothes the aching in his limbs, and Seungmin rubs his hands into the tops of Jisung’s thighs, massaging them. He’s still open, and sitting in Seungmin’s lap; the head of his cock rubs between his cheeks, catches at his sensitive hole, and he whines and squirms.

“I know, sweet thing,” Seungmin coos, recovered a little. He shifts his hips away from Jisung. “You wouldn’t even feel me anyway, you’re so open.”

It’s not meant to be a self-deprecating comment; Seungmin’s fairly average sized. But it’s meant to underscore how much Jisung had taken, and he finds himself shivering despite the warm water.

Seungmin cleans them of cum and lube. He drags Jisung from the tub and wraps him in a fluffy towel. He double-checks Jisung’s hole, inspects it. “You’re not too raw, baby,” he concludes. “Leave it alone until morning and you’ll be just fine.”

He nods tiredly, accepts the clothes that Seungmin silently passes him. Lets him towel-dry his hair until it’s wavy and shaggy. And he pulls Jisung down to his bed, files in behind him and locks their bodies together.

“You did so good, princess,” he praises softly, sounding exhausted and spent himself. His fingers drag lightly up and down Jisung’s chest, somehow possessive. “You wanna do it again sometime, hm?”

Seungmin has already staked his claim on him, as far as he’s concerned. He’d molded his insides, made him his inside and out. He wants more, he wants Seungmin.

But that’s not what he verbalizes. Instead, he shuts his eyes and mumbles, “It’s either that or you see me again in the ER with god-knows-what up my ass.”

Seungmin chuckles and nuzzles fondly into the back of his damp hair. “Then it’s my job as a medical professional to make sure you’re taken care of safely, yeah?” And he hooks a leg around Jisung’s hip, caging him in, molding him closer yet to his own body.

Seungmin likes his job, he reminds himself. It’s fulfilling and he likes it, he reminds himself as he’s handed another patient’s file despite the fact that his shift ended almost an hour ago.

He has a needy little kind-of boyfriend waiting for him in his apartment, too, probably glassy-eyed with pleasure at the unreasonably-sized toy Seungmin had had delivered today, and he’s not there. He’s helping—

Hwang Hyunjin, age 23. Presenting to the ER with—

Penile strangulation. Jesus fucking Christ.

Alright. Fine. What household object did he attempt to fuck, huh? An empty bottle? A bit of stray PVC pipe?

He enters the room and there’s an unreasonably attractive man sitting on the table, a blanket in his lap for modesty. As if Seungmin isn’t about to have to be up close and personal with his entire dick. If he’s this attractive, anyway, why is he fucking a random object with a hole instead of just going to a bar? Downloading a hookup app?

He doesn’t seem shy; he watches Seungmin enter with cool indifference. “My name is Kim Seungmin, I’ll be your nurse this evening,” he says. “What seems to be the problem, Hwang Hyunjin?” he asks, as if the words penile strangulation aren’t staring him in the face from his chart.

“Ah,” he says. “I fucked a Pringles can.”

He blinks. He—What? He’s familiar with the shape of the can. It’s—for lack of a better term—girthy, and long. How is he supposed to have gotten his cock stuck in that?

“And you’re… stuck?” he checks.

“Yeah,” he says placidly. “It was a pretty tight squeeze. Should have used more lube, probably.”

Or you shouldn’t be fucking inanimate objects in the first place. Still, he’s not quite sure he’s comprehending. He must be thinking of the wrong size tube. Or they make them smaller now. It’s not a snack he eats religiously.

“Alright,” he says slowly, a bit wary. “Let me check.”

And Hyunjin moves the blanket from his lap.

Seungmin wants to faint. There’s the can from his memory, nearly a foot long and at least three or four inches in diameter. And he can tell at a glance that Hyunjin is filling the diameter of the can—at the bottom of it protrudes the base of Hyunjin’s cock, a little bit swollen, as if pinched. As if the can is too small for him. Seungmin’s hole throbs.

But, no—he’s a professional first. He snaps gloves over his bare hands and wheels over to inspect. He grasps the can gently and pushes it aside to rub at where cock meets can. “Rate your pain from one to ten,” he instructs Hyunjin, trying to assess how much this thing is cutting off circulation.

“Like… a four?” he estimates. “Just kinda throbby.”

“Hm,” he assesses. “If I cut at the top, it should be simple enough to cut down the length of the can.”

Hyunjin cocks his head. “Dude,” he says. “Aren’t you gonna nick my tip? I don’t want you taking a scalpel to my cock.”

Seungmin thinks he understands, and the implications have him dizzy. “Sorry,” he says. “Can you indicate about where your penis ends?”

Hyunjin furrows his brow, confused, as if it’s obvious. “It’s pressed up against the top?” he says, like Seungmin should know that.

He’s—oh. His cock is filling up every square inch of this goddamn can. Oh, god.

Professional. He’s a professional. “Alright,” he says, calm and cool. “Let me go talk to a colleague and we’ll plot the best course of action, then. Please excuse me.”

And he does talk to a colleague, explaining the unusual situation—but he also texts Jisung, because he has a pretty important question at the forefront of his mind.

And that’s how Hyunjin ends up in Seungmin’s bed, his hands tied to the headboard and his legs splayed out. Seungmin has been taking his time prepping Jisung, sliding his hand in and out until he’s loose and sloppy and messy, an incredulous little puddle on his bed. Hyunjin is following their every move with lidded eyes, pulling on his restraints every so often but not really complaining.

And when Jisung is whiny and babbling and incoherent, Seungmin pulls him off the mattress and kisses him. He settles him so he’s straddling Hyunjin, his hands braced on his chest. Seungmin does the work, lines Hyunjin’s cock to Jisung’s hole and helps ease him down.

It’s—disrespectfully large. Hyunjin had probably been fucking a random household object because he couldn’t find anyone who wanted anything to do with his fucking monster cock. Enter Jisung and Seungmin, his saviors.

Despite Seungmin’s careful prep, it punches into Jisung. Seungmin is torn between pinning down Hyunjin’s hips and encouraging Jisung to continue his slow glide down.

“So good, Jisungie, so pretty,” he murmurs against his shoulder. “You’re taking him so well.”

Hyunjin loses composure, knowing he shouldn’t thrust into Jisung but unable to fully bear his instinct to do so. Seungmin keeps his hips firmly pinned just in case, lets Jisung adjust at his own pace.

And—”Seungminnie,” Jisung groans, a shudder racking his body as he sinks all the way into Hyunjin’s lap. It sends a surge of pride through his chest—at the end of it, despite everything, Jisung is saying his name.

“Do you feel good, baby?” he asks, and slides a hand around to Jisung’s stomach. He doesn’t even have to bear down to feel the intrusion, but he does, anyway, knowing it’ll make Hyunjin feel good.

And it does—he whimpers and rocks his hips, making pleading eyes at Seungmin.

Jisung is just grinding pathetic little circles on Hyunjin’s cock, unable to drag himself up and down for how much he’s trembling. And Hyunjin is slowly losing it, rocking his hips beneath Jisung.

Seungmin intervenes. “Princess,” he says gently, stroking Jisung’s belly. “I know you don’t like doing the work. What if we untie Hyunjin and let him fuck you?”

His breath catches in his throat; he’s probably imagining it. Then he’s nodding eagerly, his hands curled into adorable little fists atop Hyunjin’s chest.

“Gently,” Seungmin tells Hyunjin sternly, leaning over to untie his wrists. He rubs them shortly, making sure the blood is circulating properly, but Hyunjin is all too eager to grab onto Jisung’s hips.

“Obviously,” Hyunjin scoffs. “I’m not trying to kill the guy.” His long fingers curl around Jisung’s hips; he’s sniffling a little. “Hey,” he says, unexpectedly gently. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“It’s gonna,” Jisung says softly, sniffling again. ”I like it.”

Hyunjin blinks, processes this, then nods. “Alright,” he says. “Then… tell me if I should stop.”

“Don’t cum,” Seungmin instructs, running a hand through his hair as he begins the ordeal of pistoning his hips in and out of Jisung. “I didn’t prep my own hole for nothing.”

“He’s pretty tight,” Hyunjin grits, as if to say What happens, happens.

“Cum if you want,” Seungmin says, when Jisung whines at the idea. “But I’m getting your cock tonight, too.”

Hyunjin glances over at him. “Anything you want, gorgeous,” he says. Then he turns his attention back to Jisung, still hunched over Hyunjin’s torso. “And you, beautiful,” he says, sitting up and tugging Jisung against him, “just hold tight and let me fuck you.”

He works up a pace slowly, mouthing along Jisung’s shoulder and letting him grip his hair tight enough to hurt, probably. And then he seems to wear down the resistance, and his cock slides smoothly in and out of Jisung’s hole, his body opening up for him in a way that Seungmin has only imagined in wet dreams.

“You’re taking Hyunjinnie so well, baby,” Seungmin praises, stroking his hair where he’s slumped against Hyunjin’s body. “Does he feel good?”

Jisung is past words; he nods weakly against Hyunjin’s shoulder, his nails digging into his flesh. Hyunjin is also gripping him tightly, the sound of slapping and squelching prominent in the room.

Seungmin reaches to wrap his hand around Jisung’s cock, something he doesn’t usually bother doing. But he wants a turn with Hyunjin, and if that means being a little selfish and getting Jisung off quicker—well, he’ll make it up to him another time. He doesn’t even properly jerk him off, just hears his soft whine of protest and strokes his thumb up the shaft, along the sensitive head.

And he’s spilling with a strangled little cry, burying his teeth into Hyunjin’s shoulder to cope with it. “Stop,” Seungmin mutters, pinning Hyunjin’s hips down as he chases his own high, even as Jisung wilts.

Hyunjin whines, groans, but ultimately complies, though it obviously hurts him. He can’t have had much partnered sex, grotesquely big as his cock is, but they can train him up. For now, Seungmin scolds, “Hush, you’re a dildo stand-in currently.”

“I wanna keep him, Min,” Jisung mumbles as Seungmin hooks an arm around his waist and gently guides him off Hyunjin’s cock.

“Maybe,” Seungmin agrees, making eye contact with Hyunjin. He still looks crazed and desperate, a thin line of precum running down the unrealistic length of his dick. “If he fucks me well. You wanna watch, baby?”

Jisung nods, but he locks his arms around Seungmin’s waist first and nuzzles affectionately against his neck, clingy after his orgasm.

“Come kiss him while I tie him back up,” Seungmin says, and Hyunjin frowns. “Don’t,” he scolds. “I can fuck myself, thank you very much. Kiss Jisungie, he’s good at it.”

The kiss they share is filthy, dirty, more tongue than anything, but it serves to distract Hyunjin enough that Seungmin can resecure his wrists to the headboard without complaint. They keep kissing as Seungmin straddles his lap, lines up his ridiculous large cock, and lets it sink into him.

And—he had prepped. He’d let Jisung have at it, honestly, do whatever he wanted to Seungmin for the majority of the afternoon. He had his free reign of his extensive toy collection and he’d taken advantage.

Hyunjin is still painfully large. He hears Hyunjin’s stuttering breath as he sinks down, almost vibrating with the exertion to stay still, to be good. Jisung is more sedate now, saner, and he breaks to turn his head towards Seungmin, to press his right cheek to Hyunjin’s left, side by side as they watch.

“He’s pretty, right?” Jisung asks. “Takes it so well.”

Now, fully in Hyunjin’s lap, flushed and shuddering, he realizes the dilemma: he’d talked a big game. But Hyunjin’s cock is large, and he’s not positive he can properly fuck himself on it.

But by god, he’ll do it or die trying.

He braces his hands against Hyunjin’s chest, relishing the burning stretch, the overwhelming sensation of almost too much. He starts slowly, rocking in circles. Then he bounces in his lap. More and more and more.

And he’s no Olympic athlete. He can’t slam himself up and down the entire stupid length of Hyunjin’s cock. But it’s more than enough to get him—and Hyunjin—there.

Still, as he’s whining and going delirious, Hyunjin looks at him with dark eyes, letting Jisung suck a mark into his neck. And he rasps, “I could fuck you better if you’d let me. You want me to pin you down and make you take it.”

He writhes and shudders and—god, he does want that. Another time, another time—he has his pride to remember, too, and he and Hyunjin will get off just fine this way.

“Earn it,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut. “And maybe you can try next time.”

Hyunjin still valiantly attempts to fuck him on his own terms, despite his bound hands and lack of leverage. It lacks rhythm and finesse, but honestly, when you have as big a cock as Hyunjin, it doesn’t really matter. And, anyway, he and Jisung can help teach Hyunjin how to use his big cock—they have all the time in the world for that.

With their messy, desperate rutting and rocking, they’re both coming apart despite the lack of finesse. Hyunjin does first, but just barely. It’s while he’s gasping and rocking inside Seungmin that Seungmin finishes, too. His fingertips dig into Hyunjin’s side as he rides it out; Jisung’s hand comes out to stroke his hair gently.

He’s wobbly again, off-kilter, but he manages to reach out and undo Hyunjin’s restraints with trembling fingers, to rub gently at his wrists to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself tugging on them.

Jisung kisses what skin he can reach and helps ease him off of Hyunjin’s cock. His release is deep inside of him; he feels it trickle and trickle but it doesn’t drip out of his hole.

And Hyunjin seems to note how spent the two of them are and reaches out to steady Seungmin. “Wait here,” he says. “I’ll—towel?”

“Hall closet,” he says, dizzy and collapsing into Jisung’s arms. “The ratty ones, not the nice ones.”

Hyunjin returns with a nice towel, but Seungmin is too gone to care. It’ll wash—it’s just jizz and lube—and he’ll teach Hyunjin all that stuff later. For now, he wets it in the sink and washes the release off of both of them, and Jisung swoops in to kiss him as he does so. Hyunjin drops a soft kiss to Seungmin’s hair before he goes to chuck the towel on the bathroom floor—Seungmin always throws it straight in the laundry, but he’ll learn.

“Do you want to bathe?” Hyunjin asks once he returns, stroking his thumbs along Seungmin’s cheeks.

He does—he doesn’t. But he can’t verbalize that, so he just collapses against Hyunjin, hears Jisung’s giggle.

“It was good, Seungminnie, huh?” he checks, then looks up to Hyunjin, grinning. “Hyunjinnie was good.”

“There’s room for improvement,” he gripes, like his entire body hasn’t been reduced to jelly. “You’ll learn yet.”

Jisung’s stroking through his hair, and he tilts his head back just enough to peck his lips. But Seungmin wriggles out of Hyunjin’s hold to lay between them, to hold Jisung in his arms and have Hyunjin press along his spine.

“That means he likes you and you can stay, Hyunjinnie,” Jisung says, rubbing his nose fondly against Seungmin's.

“Good,” he rumbles, reaching across to muss Jisung’s hair fondly. And he seems to have caught on to Seungmin’s whole act, his whole thing; his lips sweep through his hair and he lets him have his little delusion. “I’ll let you train me however you’d like, Seungminnie.”

“Tomorrow,” he grumbles—his limbs are so, so heavy and he has two boys in his bed, caging him in. He’ll let the guard slip for now, he thinks as he nuzzles back against Hyunjin. Tomorrow—tomorrow it’ll be back, but he’s earned the vulnerability now, he thinks.

Chapter Text

Seungmin honestly doesn’t know why Jisung and Hyunjin still bother to pay rent at their own places when they stay at his every chance they get—whether he’s there or not.

Tonight, he has a fucking night shift, and yet Jisung had let himself in after he’d gotten off his shift at the café he cobbles together a living from, and Hyunjin had sauntered in while Seungmin was trying to find a pair of clean scrubs somewhere, anywhere.

They’re not boyfriends. They’re depraved sexual deviants who happen to be incredibly compatible and that’s it.

“So what?” Seungmin gripes, finally digging a scrub top from the absolute depths of his dresser. “You two are going to fuck in my bed while I’m working?”

Jisung and Hyunjin glance at each other, then turn back to Seungmin. “We’ll send you a video,” Hyunjin offers with a shrug. “And I’ll fuck you before you go to work, if you want.”

“No time,” he grumbles, because there really isn’t. It’s an ordeal, a whole thing, taking Hyunjin’s cock, there’s no time for such a thing. He has a twelve hour shift to work while he levels with the fact that his casual boytoys are fooling around on his clean sheets without him.

“Hey, wait,” Jisung says, grabbing him by his upper arm as he tries to steal out of the room. “If you really don’t want us to fuck while you’re gone, I mean, we could go back to my place. Or Hyunjinnie’s. Or we could even wait for you. Just… this is kind of our homebase, right?”

Seungmin considers Jisung, his shining, earnest eyes. He is fond of Jisung, boyfriend or not, and he’s not really upset by the fact that they’re absolutely going to fuck in his bed without him. He’s more frustrated that he can’t join them, that he has to go work a shift at the most inconvenient fucking time—overnight, when everyone is fucking.

So he softens a little, but it’s only because Jisung is very talented at puppy dog eyes. He folds like a card table and reaches out to stroke his fingers through Jisung’s hair. “You don’t have to do that, baby, really,” he says. “I’m just being dramatic. You two have fun, send me pictures, videos, whatever.” He leans down to kiss Jisung, uncharacteristically soft—it’s his fucking effect, despite the fact that he’s a fucking pervert—and whips around to Hyunjin. “If you break his hole in a nonsexy way,” he says, pointing a finger in his face threateningly, “I’ll kill you. I don’t want to see either of you in the ER. Aftercare.”

“Dude,” Hyunjin says, holding his hands up in surrender. “When have I ever failed at aftercare? And why are you nice to Jisung but not me?”

Seungmin glances over his shoulder at Jisung, his puffy cheeks and stupid, sparkling eyes. “Jisungie’s too cute, is why,” he gripes, snagging his jacket from the back of his desk chair. “I mean it—be safe,” he says threateningly once more, and then he’s out the door, concerned that if he stays longer the temptation to call out of his shift will be too great.

It’s a slow night… too slow. He, in theory, has plenty of time to watch the videos Hyunjin had texted him, even though he pointedly ignores the notification. It wouldn’t do to get annoyingly horny with eight hours of his shift left.

But his paperwork is done. Caught up. When was the last time that happened?

He’s sitting in one of the vacant chairs in the waiting room, watching the random soap opera on the shitty TV hung on the wall. It’s not professional, but there’s literally no one. No one at all. It’s a fucking Wednesday at midnight—no one has an emergency?

And with this thought, he jinxed it. He so fucking jinxed it.

At 12:02, a car pulls around up front, and two men exit while the driver pulls around to park. One is staggering and clutching his head, and the other stumbles under his weight—mostly, Seungmin thinks. It could just be a stumbling under the weight of the broader man, but the other man has… something wrong with him, he thinks.

He scrambles up to look somewhat more professional while the check-in nurse takes down names and other information. He slinks back to an empty exam room and the check-in nurse brings him a series of three charts.

“They’re filling out forms in the lobby,” she informs him, smacking her gum, “so no rush. But one they’re saying has a concussion, the other—uh—hurt his penis.”

Vague. Not very helpful. But he’s willing to bet he hadn’t fucked a Pringles can.

“They say there’s a third, too,” she continues. “Their friend, who drove them? Says he probably will say he’s fine, but, um. They’re. Concerned about his anus. His rectum.”

Solid friends. Or—more than friends?

The penis and the anus he can reckon in his mind. There’s a story there. The concussion, though—how the fuck did the third guy end up with a concussion? Did he walk in on them and bang his head, or what? 

A few more minutes and the check-in nurse brings their paperwork, hastily scrawled in. He only has paperwork for two of them—Concussion and Penis, but he has a mission to also help Anus out.

Concussion is named Bang Chan, aged 26. He flips to Penis’ paperwork and sees three words—helpfully added after the fact by the nurse—that make him wince, shut his legs: potential penile fracture. Good god. Poor Yang Jeongin, aged 22.

He goes out to the lobby and calls, as if there are any other patients, “Bang Chan, Yang Jeongin… and friend.”

Friend (aka Anus, apparently) is standing, not sitting—suspicious, as far as Seungmin is concerned. He stays standing as their ragged trio struggles to Seungmin’s exam room. Chan sits up on the exam table, looking a bit foggy, and Jeongin takes the chair, keeping his hands firmly in his lap, as if he still hurts. Anus is glaring daggers at him—oh, yeah, there’s definitely a story. And maybe it’s none of Seungmin’s business, but as a medical professional, he should be informed as much as he can be.

“Suspected concussion,” Seungmin says, once he’s introduced himself. He wheels over with a flashlight, checks his eyes. Has him follow his finger in front of his face. “What happened?”

“Uh,” he says, and his head snaps very unsubtly over to Jeongin and Anus. “Well, Minho—”

“No,” Anus (Minho) corrects immediately. “He fell,” he tells Seungmin. “Hit his head.”

He blinks. “On what?”

Minho stiffens. “Headboard,” he admits. And isn’t that suspicious?

Professional. Seungmin is so professional. “Well,” he says, wheeling away from Chan. “It looks to me that you might be concussed. I’m going to send you for a CT scan for a proper diagnosis.”

Another nurse swings by to take him, and that’s the easiest of his issues dealt with. “Alright, Jeongin,” Seungmin says, nodding to the table. He shakes his head firmly, hands still clutched in his lap. And yeah, if it is a penile fracture (Seungmin winces) that they’re dealing with, he must be hurting. “I have to do an examination,” he says pointedly, then turns to Minho. “Sorry, would you mind leaving the room?”

Minho scoffs. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, trust me.”

Seungmin is about to insist, but Jeongin sniffs and says quietly, “Hyung can stay.”

And who is he to deny the request of a patient? He helps Jeongin to the exam table and motions for him to… remove himself from his sweatpants. That’s not Seungmin’s job. Jeongin does, with shaking hands, and Minho stands in the corner, his ass probably hurting but looking pretty satisfied nonetheless. He must be thinking this is karma, Seungmin supposes.

“Tell me about what happened,” Senugmin requests, as he pulls on gloves.

Jeongin is soft—as can be expected from these sorts of things—but there’s nothing immediately alarming, even if he’s kind of shying away from Seungmin’s clinical gaze, his outstretching fingers.

His head snaps over to Minho. “Oh,” he says. “Um, well, I was… having sex.” He very pointedly omits with whom, although Seungmin has a guess. “I got—uh—excited. Too excited. Enthusiastic. And I tried to, like, ram it in? And the guy—the person—maybe wasn’t prepared very well, and um. Yeah.”

Seungmin has a mental image. “And did the penis bend? Was there any sort of noise? A pop, maybe?”

There’s a collective wince in the room, from both Minho and Jeongin. “I-I don’t think so?” he says. “No, like it bent, kind of, but I don’t know if there was a noise. There was, um—screaming. Lots of yelling.”

Seungmin nods and resists the urge to glance over his shoulder at Minho. He has Jeongin’s soft penis in his hand, and the kid’s face is tomato red. “Of course,” he notes. “I imagine it wasn’t very pleasurable for your partner, either.”

Minho scoffs from behind him.

“Oh!” Jeongin says. “Actually—”

“Shut up, Jeongin,” Minho hisses through his teeth. Seungmin does glance back this time, pretends to only just now make the connection, and nods knowingly at Minho.

“You first, Jeongin,” Seungmin insists, because—he literally already has the kid’s cock in his hand. “Now, did you lose your erection immediately when this happened?”

“Yeah,” he admits, quiet.

“Hm,” he notes. “So, honestly, based on what I’m seeing, I think you’ve just had a scare. I’m sure it hurt—that it still hurts—but I’m not seeing any bruising or other concerning symptoms. Now, we could order some scans to make sure, but if it is a penile fracture, it’ll require surgery to fix.”

Jeongin’s eyes widen at the mention of surgery on such a delicate area. “No, no—uhm, I think it’s probably fine. Just—sore.”

Seungmin glances at him, does one final inspection, and releases his penis. “Alright,” he says. “But if you have any trouble urinating or the pain worsens you should come back. You might experience an erection, or you might not. Regardless, I’d avoid touching your penis for a few days to allow it to heal. If you feel it’s healed but you have trouble getting an erection, feel free to come back.”

Jeongin’s cock is soft, so Seungmin can’t get an accurate feel for how big he is. It’s nothing special soft, but then again, neither is Hyunjin’s, really. Anyway, this is just a case of a strange injury of a sexual nature—Seungmin’s not going to be weird about it.

“Now,” Seungmin continues, as Jeongin delicately tucks himself back into his pants, “I will say that I would be concerned about your partner.” And he watches as Jeongin’s eyes instinctively flick over to Minho. “It takes a lot of force to cause a scare like that, and personally, I would want to make sure there was no bruising or tearing, especially if there’s significant discomfort.”

Jeongin is staring right at Minho, with the same amount of subtlety as a wrecking ball. And so Seungmin follows his gaze.

“Oh, alright!” he relents, throwing his hands up. “The doctor can look at my asshole, fine!”

“I’m a nurse, actually,” Seungmin says placidly, patting the table for Minho.

Minho doesn’t crawl up immediately. He looks over at Seungmin and hesitates. “Uh—hands and knees?”

He smothers an amused smile. “Just on your side facing the wall is fine. Or—you can face the other way, if you’d like a bit of privacy.”

“Like Innie hasn’t seen my hole a dozen times,” he scoffs under his breath, but he’s delicate when he crawls onto the table—he’s hurting.

“Can you rate your pain for me?” Seungmin asks calmly, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves and grabbing the lubricant just in case. “Just on a scale from one to ten?”

There’s silence for a few moments, then Minho gruffly responds, “A five.”

He hums in response—he gets the idea that Minho is the suffer in silence type, which means his pain might actually be a bit higher. “Alright. Would you say the pain is concentrated around your rectum, or does it extend to your perineum or testicles, as well?”

He can tell Minho is embarrassed by this—lying on his side on a metal fucking table, having a nurse who might be about to stick a finger up his ass use words like rectum and testicles. But Seungmin can hardly ask do your taint and balls hurt, too, or just your hole?

“I—rectum,” he says, trying to get away with using as few words as he can manage, it seems.

Jeongin isn’t. “But I—” he starts, and ignores the way Minho thrashes over his shoulder to glare at him. “I hit his—um, what is it? Perineum? I hit that, too. I think.”

Seungmin hums and wheels around so he’s nearly face-to-ass with Minho. There’s still a shine of lube smeared around his hole; Seungmin assumes they’d done the bare minimum to get dressed and headed over to the ER. It’s puffy and inflamed, angry, but nothing that couldn’t be explained away by normal, if a bit rough, intercourse.

“Did this happen at the beginning of the intercourse?” Seungmin asks, though he thinks he knows the answer. “Or in the middle of it?”

Silence. Minho doesn’t want to answer and Jeongin is probably trying to work out how to answer without using a verb like fucking.

He prompts, “I need to know if the inflammation I’m seeing could be from normal intercourse or not.”

“We’d been at it a while,” Minho grits out through his teeth.

“Alright,” Seungmin says neutrally, and slicks a finger in lube. “I’m going to inspect to see if I can see any tearing. It’ll be cold, alright?”

And when he barely drags his slicked, gloved finger across Minho’s hole, he bucks away like he’s burned him.

“Did I surprise you or does it hurt?” Seungmin asks.

“Surprised me,” he says stiffly, maintaining what little dignity remains.

Seungmin’s not sure he buys it, but he proceeds even more gently than he had been. “I’ll put just the tip of my finger inside,” he informs him, and for some reason this makes him snort with laughter.

Seungmin has seen this before, this incredulous release. A case of the giggles in what’s really a shitty situation. It’s an overflow of stress, a reaction to humiliation. And, yeah. Minho is bare-assed on an exam table with an ER nurse about to shove just the tip of his finger into his hole.

But Minho is laughing almost uncontrollably, enough so that Seungmin doesn’t feel comfortable proceeding. “Just the tip,” he repeats, breathless. “Jesus, that’s—that’s the entire reason we’re here.”

“Hyung,” Jeongin says uncertainly, warily.

But Minho’s still absolutely fucking losing it, almost howling with laughter. He twists around to face Seungmin, pointing in his face. “You look like you fuck men,” he says, as if he’s reasoning, and Seungmin tries not to balk. Like, yes, he does fuck men, but he’s never had a patient say it to his face. “This fucking asshole,” he says, all traces of laughter now gone. He jabs his thumb towards Jeongin. “He tries to fuck me after Channie does. And that’s fine, yeah? He’s got a nice cock and it means I can suck Channie off instead. And he’s back there saying just the tip, just the tip. And then just rams it forward like a fucking animal.”

Seungmin blinks. He has patients get too personal with him all the time, and he had been angling for a confession as to what had led to three separate patients with three separate injuries, but he hadn’t quite expected a spitroasting situation.

How the fuck had Chan gotten a concussion?

Wait—he’s kneeling, with his cock in Minho’s mouth. Jeongin fucks forward too hard, misses the hole or has just failed to reapply lube. He yells, Minho yells and maybe thrashes. Maybe Chan’s concerned that he’s going to get his cock bitten off. He flails back, and bangs his head on the headboard as he does, concussing himself.

It’s—it’s a comedy of fucking errors. It’s what would happen if the Three Stooges decided to venture into gay porn.

Seungmin so wishes he had been there, because it was probably the least sexy shit ever.

But he remains calm and composed, like the goddamn professional he is. “You mentioned you were having intercourse with Chan prior to this incident,” he says. “Was there lube reapplied? Is there a significant difference in size between Chan and Jeongin? Were you properly prepped?”

Minho looks borderline psychotic, crazed, like he’s kind of enjoying spilling his guts to Seungmin now, especially if it leaves Jeongin hiding his face in his hands in the corner. “They’re both pretty big,” he admits, grinning deviously. “But I wanted it to hurt. No extra lube.”

“Not hurt like this, I’ll bet,” Seungmin deadpans, and Minho fucking loses it again, howling with laughter.

“I—Jesus! Yeah, fine, man, just shove a finger up my ass and let me know if I need to refrain from shoving anything up there for a few days.”

And he flops back down on the exam table, perfectly docile, apparently having released all his hysteria in one fell swoop. Seungmin shrugs and returns his finger to press lightly against his entrance. “There’ll be a small pressure,” he informs him, and presses in up to the first knuckle. He doesn’t thrash away this time, though he does tense, like it hurts.

He continues inspecting in silence, and prods at his perineum, as well.

“Alright,” he says, pulling his gloves off. “There’s no tearing that I can see. It’s possible your perineum will experience light bruising given time, and increased tenderness and pain. But, really, you’re just inflamed and sore. It will likely last for a few days, so I would refrain from, in your words, shoving anything up there for the rest of the week. If the pain increases or worsens, or if you notice more pain, tenderness, or soreness upon the reintroduction of penetration, I would recommend coming back. And, in the future, I would beg you to keep in mind that when it comes to lubrication, there’s no such thing as too much.” Minho has rearranged himself and dragged himself not to sit, but back to standing. “I’m going to go see if I can’t fetch your friend so I can do your discharge paperwork altogether.”

He leaves Minho and Jeongin and goes to fetch Chan, along with the results of his scan. They return, Chan still a little dazed, to Minho and Jeongin in sullen silence, though they both soften when Chan enters.

“Channie, you okay?” Minho asks, grabbing him by the arm. “The mean nurse had to shove a finger up my butt, you missed it.”

Seungmin clears his throat—he resents being described as the mean nurse. He’s not mean! He’s professional, mostly. “Just the tip,” he reminds Minho, trying to refrain from smiling. Shockingly, Minho grins back at him. He clears his throat again, looking down at Chan’s scan. “So, this is a concussion,” he confirms, looking at Chan. He looks a bit out of it, still, but Minho and Jeongin are both listening intently, nodding along. “You’ll need to rest and avoid any strenuous activity for about a week, then reintroduce it gradually. This includes, but is not limited to: heavy lifting, exercise, and, uh. Sexual activity.”

Chan reacts with a nod; Jeongin stays red. Minho smirks. “Don’t you worry,” he tells Seungmin. “This entire ordeal has been unsexy enough that I think I won’t be able to get hard for about a week, anyway.”

“Perfect,” he says, noncommittal. “I’ll go finish up your discharge paperwork and you three can be on your way.”

He finishes it up and leaves the three of them in the exam room. It’s another round of sexual deviants entering the ER, nothing special. They seem pretty happy with one another, even if this experience may perhaps be a dark blotch on their relationship. And Seungmin is a professional—mostly—and so no matter how attractive they all are, it would be stupid of him to do what he’d done with Jisung or Hyunjin. He won’t.

And he doesn’t. He returns to the exam room and the three of them stop talking quickly, as if they’d been discussing Seungmin. He politely ignores this fact and passes out paperwork to the proper people.

“Remember to come back if there’s further discomfort,” he reminds them. “Otherwise, I would say you can resume normal activity—provided there’s no continued soreness—in about a week.”

Chan and Jeongin thank him and shuffle out with their heads hung. Minho follows them, and Seungmin also moves to see them out.

But Minho curls a hand around his upper arm, a bit more up close and personal than he typically allows his patients to get.

“A week, you said?” he asks, and Seungmin confirms with a nod, keeping cool. Minho has a devious look on his face. “And when the week is up, if I perhaps—if we perhaps—needed a demonstration on proper lubrication and penetration, could we contact you?”

It’s a strange way to be asked out—or asked to hook up—but it’s basically what he’d done to Jisung, he can acknowledge. He pointedly looks Minho up and down, and then returns his gaze to his eyes. “Well,” he says, “I’m all for preventative education. It’s, unfortunately, not part of my job description here, but I could be convinced to charitably give up some of my personal time,” he says, and pulls away from Minho to snag a sticky note and a pen from a nearby nurse’s station. “Let me give you my personal number.”

It’s a bit over a week later that Seungmin has to break from kissing Jisung within an inch of his life to answer the knock at his door. Jisung looks put out, slumping back into Hyunjin’s arms and pouting.

“How many guys do you meet from sexual mishaps at the ER, anyway?” he grumbles as Hyunjin strokes his hair soothingly.

“You were the first, believe it or not,” Seungmin says distractedly. “Don’t act like you’re not getting something out of this, too!”

Jisung’s not done pouting and probably won’t be until he gets fucked. “What, the guy who demonstrably can’t fuck and the guy who concussed himself?”

“Don’t forget the one with a bruised taint,” Hyunjin says, and Seungmin whips around, a threatening finger pointed their way.

“Alright, then, Pringles Can and Office Supply Dildo,” he tells them, and that shuts them up. What room do they have to poke fun, after all? If anything, Seungmin is the only sane and normal one here.

He throws the door open; Chan and Jeongin have predictably shoved Minho to the front, probably shy about fucking the hot nurse who has heard the tale of their sexual misadventures and also fondled Jeongin’s flaccid dick. Fair enough.

Minho, however, has gotten over all of this shyness, because Seungmin’s the dumb motherfucker who wants to fuck them despite their stupidity, or maybe because of it. He hasn’t worked out Seungmin’s exact deal yet.

His eyes do, however, immediately drag over to Jisung and Hyunjin on the couch. “Seems we’re pretty similar, after all,” he says, and walks in without waiting for Seungmin to invite him. He steps aside, nods for Chan and Jeongin to come in. They do—hesitantly.

“Not at all,” Seungmin disagrees, shutting the door behind them. “I keep those two out of the ER.” Nevermind that Minho and Chan and Jeongin seem to be dating or something, and Seungmin is definitely not dating Hyunjin or Jisung. But somehow he misses the chance to correct this assumption of Minho’s.

“That’s what we’re here for, right?” Minho asks, cocking a devious grin to the room at large.

Six people squished into Seungmin’s normal bed is not ideal, but they make it work. After the initial awkwardness of getting everyone into bed (Chan and Jeongin still seem a bit shy), it comes together astonishingly naturally.

Minho takes an immediate liking to Jisung—unfortunate, since Seungmin would bet all the money in his bank account that Jisung has no interest in fucking Minho, not when he has the personal human dildo of Hyunjin. But, hey, isn’t that why Seungmin bought the monstrously-sized double-ended dildo in his bedside drawer?

Chan, shockingly, ends up with Hyunjin, who might as well be the final boss for bottoms. But when Minho shoves him towards Hyunjin, he goes, and it’s so obvious who calls the shots in their relationship. Chan lets Hyunjin finger him open and switches between shyly smiling at Hyunjin and making really disgusting puppy eyes between Minho and Jeongin.

And—Jeongin. Seungmin has only seen Jeongin soft, of course, but now that he’s dripping and hard and has Seungmin under him, his shyness seems to vanish. He’s busy rutting their dripping cocks together, apparently appreciating the juxtaposition of them, the obvious size difference. Seungmin is a perfectly average and workable size, even if he doesn’t usually care about topping. Jeongin is—he’s not quite a Pringles can, but he does prove to grow big enough that Seungmin’s mouth waters.

He’s taking his fucking time—hasn’t even stretched Seungmin yet—whereas Hyunjin is literally already balls-deep in Chan. He’s sitting back in his lap, rammed onto his cock while Hyunjin grinds up into him, equally needy. Minho, for his part, is four fingers deep in Jisung, who seems too shy to beg him to go further.

“Put your whole fist up there,” Seungmin instructs as Jeongin scrapes his teeth along the delicate skin of his neck. “He can take it.”

“And what can you take?” Jeongin murmurs against his skin, ghosting his fingers down against Seungmin’s hole.

And—finally. It’s about fucking time. Seungmin makes a point of glancing down towards Jeongin, as if gauging the size of him. Then—“More than you have to give,” he says, honest. If he’s taken Hyunjin, then Jeongin is nothing.

It’s maybe insulting, but Jeongin’s lips curve against his in a smile. “You want more?”

“Do your worst,” Seungmin mumbles back, a little upset that Jeongin’s fingers are still dry and still not pressing inside his hole. To his side, Minho has his fist in Jisung, who’s writhing and moaning and panting—Seungmin is pleased to hear his own name interspersed in there, Jisung’s hand stretching across the mattress for him. He indulgently grabs at Jisung’s hand, letting him squeeze his fingers.

Jeongin’s looking up towards the other pair. “Channie hyung,” he says, even though both Chan and Hyunjin are pretty far away, both apparently lost in pleasure. But at Jeongin’s voice, Chan, at least, seems to come back to himself a little, whining and grinding in Hyunjin’s lap. “Come fuck Seungmin with me.”

And this Seungmin is interested in. Chan is much the same as Jeongin—big, much bigger than average, but nowhere near Hyunjin-sized. But taking him and Jeongin? Together? Seungmin is squirming with the anticipation of it.

Chan is wriggling, trying to look over his shoulder at Hyunjin and failing, because Hyunjin has his forehead pressed to it, groaning.

Jeongin looks from this over to Minho, still with a fist inside Jisung and bending down to take his cock into his mouth. “Minho can take him,” Jeongin tells Chan.

Minho doesn’t react at first; Jisung’s hand squeezes like a vice around Seungmin’s as he finally releases, arching into Minho’s month with a strangled cry. Minho surges up to kiss him, deep and filthy—Seungmin definitely sees the white of Jisung’s cum being passed into his mouth, and he presses down onto Jeongin’s fingers urgently, feeling strongly that he needs them inside.

Minho leans down to whisper something in Jisung’s ear, kisses him one more time, and crawls across the bed to Hyunjin. Chan is already working his way off, slowly and panting heavily.

Seungmin hears Minho mumble, “You’ll have to prep me,” but then Chan is being dragged over by Jeongin and Jisung is crawling his way to Seungmin. His fingers come through Seungmin’s hair and their lips meet. Seungmin is glad for the distraction, because he’s a bit upset that he hasn’t even been properly touched through this whole ordeal and—

Jisung’s tongue surges in his mouth, salty, bitter. He’s pressing his cum back into Seungmin’s mouth, what Minho had already passed to him.

He shouldn’t find it as unreasonably hot as he does, but he’s already unrestrainably horny, and he groans against Jisung’s lips and tugs him closer. He really does love kissing Jisung, he thinks, even not in whatever horny fog he’s trapped in. He’s taken to kissing Jisung casually, little pecks in greeting or in parting or when he finds him particularly cute, and Seungmin is warming up to Hyunjin in that regard. This is not a casual kiss—Seungmin is whining into his mouth and obediently swallowing what Jisung gives him. But he does keep kissing Jisung while Jeongin slides his unreasonably long fingers inside of him.

He opens easily, arching his back as Jeongin presses that spot inside of him. Jeongin, it seems, has grown tired of his own teasing and fills Seungmin as quickly as he can get away with; the second his hole relaxes around the next finger, Jeongin is pressing the next one in. It’s what Seungmin prefers, too, anyway, though he doubts Jeongin is aware of the fact.

And then, predictably, Jeongin’s knuckles are breaching his hole—he’s so deep. Jisung’s hand snakes down to press on Seungmin’s abdomen, feeling the bulge of Jeongin’s hand when he does, and there’s a moan that’s ripped from Seungmin at the sensation. He yanks Jisung back down to his lips, needing a distraction before he comes prematurely.

“Look at Minho and Hyunjin,” Jisung suggests, and Seungmin has to crane his neck back to do it, viewing them upside down. Minho is in Hyunjin’s lap facing him, hands braced on his shoulders and trying desperately to work himself up and down. But it’s a bit too much, more than he’s used to, and his head has fallen against Hyunjin’s shoulder.

And Seungmin can see everything from here, upside-down or no. He can see the way Minho’s hole stretches to accommodate Hyunjin’s entirely unreasonable size, and it’s just as hot as he would expect it to be.

And his hole is about to be stretched more than that, he thinks with glee. It might break him, but god, it’ll be worth it.

And then he’s reminded that he’s surrounded by idiots and, as such, he has to be the responsible one for the safety and health of his own hole.

“More lube,” he tells Jeongin in a murmur, as he flexes his hand inside Seungmin. “Before Channie presses in. And finger me a little when his cock is in me before you put yours in.”

Jeongin frowns. “You’re bossy.”

“And when you’re left to your own devices you and your boyfriends end up in the ER,” Seungmin snaps as Jisung strokes through his hair fondly.

“Okay, okay, yeah,” Jeongin assents in a mutter, unable to fight back in the face of such logic. “Are you good for Channie, then?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, because he fears if Jeongin keeps going he’ll cum, and there’s not a shot he’s going to let that happen before both of them are inside him.

Jeongin orchestrates the thing, and Seungmin allows him only to counteract the previous accusation of bossy. He directs Chan, who has been at his side and half-delirious from the ordeal of taking Hyunjin, to lay on his back, and then directs Seungmin to lay on top of him so they’re chest-to-chest. He kind of thinks Jisung will fuck off and go amuse himself with Hyunjin or Minho, who are both turning into kind of whiny messes at the head of the bed, but he stays right beside Seungmin, ever clingy. He holds his hand, he lays at Chan’s side and presses kisses to Seungmin’s shoulder and even drags himself over to kiss Chan—the dopey look on his face is cute, as he explains.

He lets Seungmin sit back on Chan’s cock himself and—he’s big. He stretches Seungmin in that familiar way that he loves, punches the air from his lungs. No, he’s not Hyunjin big, but who fucking is? But even after having Jeongin’s big-ass fist inside him, Chan is stretching him out, giving him the delicious burning ache that he craves.

And once he’s fully settled, Jeongin pushes between his shoulder blades until he’s laying fully down on Chan, chest-to-chest. He buries his face in the mattress beside Chan and Jisung plays with his hair while he kisses Chan and swallows his little moans and whines.

Seungmin wants to get fucked, not lay here while Chan’s cock just sitting inside him. He clenches around him as if that might entice him, but Chan only answers him with a low moan, which is mostly muffled by Jisung’s lips.

And then he feels Jeongin’s fingertips prodding at his rim. Dimly, Seungmin realizes that, in addition to the extra lube he’d squeezed directly in him before Chan had pressed in, he’s applied more to his fingers, as well. Cleanup will be hell, but his hole will (probably) recover.

“Relax,” he mumbles, and there’s pressure. “Let me in, Seungmin.”

He relaxes as much as he can, and based on Chan’s whine next to his ear, Jeongin presses on his cock to work his finger inside. It stretches, it burns, it feels like entirely too much, somehow, even if it doesn’t even come close to Hyunjin’s girth.

Seungmin loves it—he wants more.

He pushes back onto Chan’s cock, against Jeongin’s fingers, but his hand comes down between his shoulders again, stilling him. “Be patient,” he murmurs. He’s stroking his fingers along Chan’s cock, locked inside Seungmin, and Chan is affected, squirming and gripping Seungmin’s hips so tight they’re going to bruise. “Don’t cum yet, Channie,” Jeongin says. “Or—you can, but you’re not pulling out until I’m done. Be good for Seungminnie.”

It makes both of them groan, and Seungmin’s hand comes up to tangle in Chan’s hair. A hand slides along his waist and Jisung brings his lips behind his ear.

He lays there in the grounding feeling of Jeongin stretching them even more. He could glance up and see the visual that accompanies the whiny little moans that Hyunjin and Minho are making, but he likes being buried here beside Chan’s head, Jisung dragging his lips over his overheated skin.

Jeongin has squeezed in four fingers, pressed tightly between Chan’s cock and Seungmin’s walls. It’s not enough to easily fit Jeongin’s cock, but Seungmin doesn’t care. He wants the dizzying stretch, the burning pressure, he feels it as an acute need.

He doesn’t think Jeongin knows him well enough to recognize this (yet, he finds himself thinking with embarrassing certainty—because of course this will happen again, he’ll make sure of it), so maybe he’s just at last growing impatient himself. He slicks himself in yet more lube—maybe sensing that Seungmin will find it in him to scold him otherwise—and plasters himself to Seungmin’s back.

It’s hard for him to ease in. Seungmin’s rim sticks fast around Chan’s cock and Jeongin has to wriggle another finger in to make a gap big enough for the head of his cock to squeeze in. And then it’s a matter of forcing his way in as he gasps and moans and reaches to tangle his fingers with Seungmin’s, the ones still gripping Chan’s hair.

Jisung is enjoying the show, probably. The three of them are in various stages of undone. Chan has two men laying atop him, pinned to the mattress and forced to feel the intolerably slow slide of Jeongin’s cock as it forces its way into Seungmin. Seungmin is anchored by Chan’s hands on his hips and Jeongin’s weight on his back, unable to even wriggle, as trapped as Chan is.

And Jeongin is just trying desperately to get his dick wet, to squeeze it in Seungmin to the root.

When he manages it, he feels like he can’t breathe, and he doesn’t even think it’s because of Chan squeezing him, of Jeongin’s weight on top of him.

Jeongin exhales heavy against his ear, taking a second to collect himself. And then he’s grinding forward and whispering, maybe low enough that only Seungmin can hear it, “Did we finally find a way to make you tight?”

It affects him, and it’s definitely helped by the fact that he has two cocks in his hole right now. If there was ever a time he’d let someone’s words wash over him without repercussion, it would be right now.

But he’s Kim Seungmin, he’s not going to let that slide. “‘m always tight for Jinnie,” he gasps, grinding back. “Think you’re just too small for me.”

Jeongin growls, clamps his teeth in the delicate skin behind Seungmin’s ear, and pistons his hips back and forth, whether or not Seungmin is relaxed enough.

He’s incoherent. There’s nothing in his head; he thinks he might be so full of cock that there’s no room for thought anymore.

Jeongin has his skin clamped and his fingers over top of his own; Chan is shuddering beneath him and Jisung is cooing at the three of them, like this is something cute and precious and not incredibly depraved.

“Jeonginnie,” Chan is whining, wriggling underneath the two of them as best he can. Jeongin’s pace has picked up, Seungmin rapidly trying to adapt to Jeongin’s cock, to relax open enough to take him so he can slide in and out easier. “Jeonginnie, I’m gonna—gonna cum.”

“Told you you could, hyung,” Jeongin grunts, snapping his hips forward. “But you’re not pulling out. Make it good for Seungminnie.”

He exhales sharply; his nails dig into Seungmin’s hips and there’s a warmth spreading deep inside of him. Just a beat or two later, Hyunjin also lets out a sharp cry; it’s followed by rapid, slick sounds, an urging of his voice. “Cum for me Minho, so pretty, baby.”

Chan goes whiny and twitchy again, this time from the overstimulation of him and Jeongin rubbing cocks inside Seungmin.

“And what?” Jeongin asks, his voice low as he keeps rutting into Seungmin. “Are you gonna cum, too?”

Probably. His cock is pinned between his body and Chan’s, and although Jeongin is so deep that he’s not necessarily pinning his prostate, Seungmin is pretty sure he’s going to be able to get off on feeling so stretched, so depraved. He can’t articulate this to Jeongin, though—the only thing that exits his mouth is a needy, overwhelmed moan.

“So pretty, Min,” Jisung says happily, playing with his hair again. “You always look so pretty like this, drooling into the pillows.”

He slides the hand in Chan’s hair, the one that Jeongin is holding, away, in favor of stretching it towards Jisung so he’ll hold his hand. He’s overwhelmed and a little sentimental—sue him. He’s dimly aware of Hyunjin ushering Minho off the bed and towards the bathroom, of him extending an invitation to Jisung. “Sung, you coming?” he asks, but he sounds distant to Seungmin, like he has cotton in his ears.

“I’ll wait for Seungminnie,” Jisung says, and he hears the short smack of their lips together, before Hyunjin presumably escorts Minho to the shower. Seungmin takes the credit—he’d trained him well.

Jisung holds his hand as he falls apart, as the overwhelming fullness and slick slide of Jeongin in and out of his ruined hole sends him over an edge. He squeezes Jisung’s hand and his teeth find Chan’s shoulder; Jeongin doesn’t slow his pace at all.

Seungmin doesn’t love the unbearable twitchiness nor the borderline pain that comes with overstimulation, but from the way Jeongin is panting in his ear he must be close. He hangs on, clutches at Jisung as the pleasure from his orgasm fades and he’s left with something sharp and raw.

It’s another bare minute, maybe, of Jeongin humping against his ass. And then, finally, he’s pressing in, stretching Seungmin full again, and he releases inside of him. The motion of his hips have driven a lot of Chan’s cum out of him, but as he draws out, he presses what he can back inside, scooping the release from Chan’s balls and pressing it back into him.

Jisung gently helps Seungmin off; he’s gone boneless again, and he collapses against Jisung. He’s open, so open, and the cum that Jeongin had carefully pressed back into him runs down the backs of his thighs as soon as he’s propped up on his knees.

“Hyunjinnie will change the sheets,” Jisung notes wryly, as Jeongin falls on Chan and kisses him into the mattress.

“He does it wrong,” Seungmin mumbles against Jisung’s skin, although he knows already that he won’t have the energy to fix it himself.

“It’ll be alright,” Jisung soothes, and he reaches down to prod at Seungmin’s hole, his eyes widening when he realizes how much he’s gaping.

“Doesn’t he look pretty?” Jeongin is murmuring to Chan, wrapped around him possessively. “You did that, you and I.”

The shower is only really big enough to accommodate two, three if you squeeze, so once Minho and Hyunjin return, Jisung drags Seungmin for the bathroom, even if most everything has already dripped from his hole onto the sheets.

“My water bill’s gonna be crazy,” Seungmin gripes as Jisung draws a bath.

“You worry about the stupidest things,” Jisung says, though he looks entirely fond as he says it. “Come on, we’re just gonna soak while they change the sheets, then Channie and Jeonginnnie can come in here.”

Seungmin has a bit of cum smeared on his stomach, too, and Jisung diligently scrubs at it for him once they’re in the bath, as well as cleaning the dried release from his own stomach.

And then they just bask for a moment, in the warm water. Seungmin feels boneless, and he knows that Hyunjin coordinating the three other bozos to change the sheets will take a minimum of twenty minutes.

“Seungminnie?” Jisung asks in the warm water, curled against his chest.

“Mm?” he hums, knowing he’s going to pass the fuck out the moment he’s wrapped in clean sheets.

“I kind of really like Minho, I think,” he admits. “And—and Channie and Jeonginnie, of course, but really Minho.”

Okay? Why is he telling Seungmin? He can’t figure it out, his brain turned to pudding, so he hums again.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s nice.”

“I was worried you’d be upset.”

“Hm?” he wonders. “Why? I invited them.”

Jisung laughs a little, but it sounds mostly relieved, like he’d been nervous to tell Seungmin. “Oh, good,” he says, melting again against Seungmin. “I mean, maybe it was stupid of me to worry about, since there were six of us fucking around, anyway. But I still like you and Hyunjinnie the most, don’t worry.”

Him and Hyunjin? Why? Why does it matter? Why does he think Seungmin cares?

“You’re really nice, Seungminnie,” Jisung says, wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling against his neck.

“Don’t you just think that because I shove my fist up your hole and keep you from sending yourself to the emergency room again?” Seungmin mumbles, though he does enjoy Jisung’s weight against him, his warmth.

Jisung giggles. “No, it’s more than that,” he says, and then he grinds his ass on Seungmin’s lap. “You could still fuck me sometime. Anytime.”

He scoffs. “When you have Hyunjin? Please.”

Jisung pouts. “I still might like it. Maybe I want to feel you.”

Seungmin’s fingers encircle Jisung’s wrist, and he chuckles. “Okay, baby,” he says. “Maybe another time. I’m fucked out.”

“Okay,” Jisung murmurs, and he fists his hands in Seungmin’s hair and kisses him, deep and wanting, still grinding in his lap. Seungmin lets him, despite how sensitive he feels.

When they stumble back in the bedroom, Hyunjin and the others have managed to passably change the sheets, and Hyunjin has even grabbed spare washcloths (not the nice ones) for Jeongin and Chan to clean off.

Seungmin’s bed isn’t large enough for six, but they make it work through laying atop one another and squishing in. Vaguely, Seungmin realizes that he hadn’t actually invited any of them to stay over, especially not the newcomers.

But he has Jisung clinging to him still as he’s sprawled atop Hyunjin. On Jisung’s other side is Chan. Minho is laying on top of Chan, maybe to save space, and Jeongin lies at the far end of the bed. So they’re still clearly split down the middle—Chan and Minho and Jeongin versus Seungmin and Jisung and Hyunjin.

Except—Seungmin and Jisung and Hyunjin aren’t a unit, not like the other three are. They’re not boyfriends, even though Jisung and Hyunjin seem to spend every free moment at Seungmin’s place and even though they kiss a lot and even though they both seem very clingy with each other and with him.

Okay, it sounds like they’re boyfriends, but they really, really aren’t. Seungmin would know if he had two boyfriends. Hell—Chan and Minho and Jeongin are also sleeping in his bed, and he’d just had two of them up his ass, and they’re not all boyfriends. It’s just some weird, casual little thing. If they’re all so sexually compatible, why not?

But he sees Jisung stretch to kiss both Minho and Chan where he’s laying, even though he still clings to Seungmin and Hyunjin. Minho whines that Seungmin is too far away and he’s going to kiss him in the morning. Chan realizes belatedly and with distress that he also hadn’t kissed Seungmin—and Jeongin pops up and points out that he hadn’t, either.

And, yeah. It’s just sex. Kissing isn’t required. He hadn’t kissed Hyunjin. He does now, but that’s entirely irrelevant. He’d kissed Jisung, but only because Jisung is small and cute and whiny and all but begs to be kissed.

It’s no big deal, he thinks, but he agrees to kiss them all (in the morning) with a grumble. Because, honestly, if they’re spending the night, they might as well fool around in the morning, too.

And he knows he’s not boyfriends with Jisung—with any of them—because he’s imagining Jeongin pressing into him, fucking him to pretty tears. What kind of person would imagine his own boyfriend getting fucked by someone else? It’s ridiculous, it’s stupid. Yeah, they’re fuck buddies, and that’s how it’s going to stay.

Jisung stretches to kiss him goodnight, because he can. It’s soft and chaste and sweet. And then Hyunjin tilts his chin up to do the same. Jisung stretches to kiss Hyunjin.

No, it doesn’t mean anything—they’re just clingy, affectionate bastards.

Chapter Text

How has Seungmin’s place become the designated hang-out? He doesn’t even know when the fuckers had all had keys copied, but he comes home from work to Jeongin and Hyunjin just… chilling? On his couch?

Like, they could at least fuck, or something.

God, and they drag him places. Jisung or Jeongin (or both, each clutching a hand) will force him to a café in his precious downtime. They drink coffee and chatter idly and maybe also try to cop a feel under the table.

They show up at his work! And not with anything shoved up their asses and strangling their dicks, either! If Seungmin is absent or busy and forgets to bring lunch, Chan will show up with food in tow; Seungmin thanks him and scarfs it down in between patients. Hyunjin will pick him up from his shift. Which Seungmin doesn’t even need him to do? He walks to work. Hyunjin walks to pick him up. What’s the point in them walking in the cold together? But he shows up with hot chocolate most of the time, so Seungmin decides not to complain.

Minho works full-time but more regular hours than Seungmin. He uses Seungmin’s under-utilized kitchen to cook meals, typically catered around when Seungmin will come home. If he works overnight, he’ll prepare breakfast. If he has the day shift, it’s dinner. Once again, it heavily benefits Seungmin, so he doesn’t complain about it.

But he just has… five other people. Around his apartment. Like, basically all the time. And his apartment is not huge.

Nor is his bed built for six. They fuck in it, yeah (and elsewhere), but they also spend nearly every night there, even if Seungmin is working. And there’s only so many times he can experience an elbow to the ribs or hear the precarious creaking of the bed under their combined weight before he puts his foot down.

They chip in to buy a new, larger bed, which is not exactly what he’d meant. He’d meant more… you know… maybe they sleep elsewhere? Not spend the night?

But the new, larger bed also means that their regular orgies are easier to coordinate, so once again, Seungmin is left without a reason to complain…

It’s one of Seungmin’s precious off days, but it’s a regular day for everyone else. Minho and Chan have their full-time gigs and Hyunjin, Jisung, and Jeongin all have day shifts at their various retail jobs.

He gets to have alone time.

And normally, that means that he’d fuck himself silly and then maybe order takeout for sustenance, but Jisung and Chan had dragged him into the shower and they’re currently taking care of that need. Chan’s locked around his waist, buried into the nape of his neck. Jisung’s pressed against the wall facing Seungmin, and his and Chan’s bodies sandwich Seungmin and hold him up.

“You know,” Jisung says, almost conversational. Seungmin is near tears, clutching at his shoulders as Chan drags in and out of him. It had been slow at first, but that never seems to last long with Chan. He gets overwhelmed, sloppy—just how Seungmin likes it. “I dragged Channie hyung in here for me.”

Seungmin’s fingers are digging crescents into Jisung’s skin, and he nuzzles his face into his wet hair, unable to answer. Chan, too, is incoherent, gripping Seungmin’s hips tight enough to bruise and whining into his skin as he chases his release. He’ll apologize afterwards, sheepishly admit that he’d lost himself, but it’s not like Seungmin isn’t going to come from this, too—big dick privileges, and all that.

Jisung lifts his face and kisses his slack mouth, parted and panting from Chan. “So how’d you end up with Channie’s cock in you?”

Jisung. It had been Jisung. He’d shoved Chan under the water, firmly told him to wait, and scissored Seungmin open himself. And (uncharacteristically) Jisung had done all the work, twining around Seungmin and tugging Chan forward until he’d sunk into his hole.

“Your fault,” Seungmin manages to mumble. Jisung gently dislodges his hands from his shoulders and guides him to wrap around his neck instead, embracing him and drawing them even closer. Their cocks are touching now, Seungmin realizes, and he draws a shaky breath, trying to overcome the stars dancing across his closed eyelids. “Y-you—”

“I’ll be fine,” Jisung says, amused. Chan’s arms are locked around Seungmin’s waist from behind, Jisung’s from the front. Chan is rocking into him (or, no—rutting animalistically) and Jisung is grinding against his front, and it’s all a bit too much.

He squeezes his eyes shut against Jisung’s wet hair, feeling his knees buckle and hole tighten as he finishes, smearing between himself and Jisung. Chan lets out a truly pitiful whine against his skin as he, too, finishes, and Jisung extricates a hand to scratch at Chan’s hair fondly.

And then the curtain flings open and there stands Minho, looking annoyed and not because of Jeongin hanging off of him. “Are you done?” he asks. “You’re going to use up all the hot water.”

Despite his harsh tone, he’s pretty gentle when he maneuvers Chan out of the water, mumbling to remind him not to trip over the ledge.

Jisung kisses Seungmin quickly and washes him off. “Go lay in bed with Hyunjinnie,” he says. “I think he can sleep in a little more.”

“And you,” Minho says, blocking Jisung from getting out of the shower, “can spare another five minutes for a shower, right?”

Jisung hadn’t come, so Seungmin feels it’s only natural that he’ll stay with Jeongin and Minho, at least for a little. But still, his eyes shift over to Seungmin, like he’s torn. But that’s dumb, Seungmin is just going to pass out in bed again adjacent to Hyunjin, and Jisung has to get ready for work—sooner or later. He thinks his shift doesn’t start for a while, so he’s not really sure why he’d gotten up as early as he had.

Still, Seungmin quietly wraps himself in a towel and pads to his bedroom. Jisung doesn’t follow, the shower keeps running, and Seungmin supposes that that answers that question.

Hyunjin is wrapped in the sheets and on his stomach, cheek smooshed into the pillow. He’s dead asleep, even though Chan has apparently thrown an additional pillow at him in a bid to wake him up.

“Jin,” he says, rummaging through the dresser for a work shirt—because, oh yeah, the five of them also keep an annoying amount of clothes and things in Seungmin’s apartment. “Doesn’t your shift start at 8:00?”

“‘s fine,” he mumbles, sleepy. The bed is big enough that Seungmin can easily settle on the other side and not even have to touch Hyunjin, but when he does this, Hyunjin senses the weight shift on the mattress and lifts his head up. “C’mere, Seungminnie,” he requests, but before Seungmin can respond, he’s shuffling over on the mattress to wrap his arms and legs around Seungmin. It’s nice—he’s very warm, and Seungmin is a little cold from the shower—if a bit suffocating.

“Get off,” Seungmin gripes. “It’s, like, 7:30.”

“What are they gonna do, fire me?” he protests, nuzzling down into Seungmin’s neck.

“They might,” Chan returns, a warning. Seungmin glances up and he’s tying his tie, looking down disapprovingly at the bundle of them on the bed. He’s much more coherent and put together now, so much unlike what he’d been just a handful of minutes ago. Seungmin doesn’t know how he’d come and not immediately fallen into a heavy little puddle; it’s how Seungmin feels.

There’s bickering and back-and-forth before Chan actually tugs Hyunjin from the bed to prevent him from being late, and Seungmin is left alone. It’s a bit chilly, but he swaddles himself into the blanket and burrows down against the pillows and it’s alright, he thinks.

There’s commotion as Minho and Jeongin and Jisung exit the shower. Jeongin can’t find his jacket and Minho gripes that he’s too busy getting ready to help the kid. Chan is ready to go and apparently they all have to leave together, him and Minho and Hyunjin and Jeongin.

Seungmin doesn’t think he understands how Hyunjin had been looped into this. His shift means he has to leave at approximately the same time as the other three, but—they’re boyfriends, Chan and Minho and Jeongin. Hyunjin—and by extension Seungmin and Jisung—is just someone they fuck, so why do they care about waiting for him?

Jisung is trying to stay out of their way, since he has time until he has to be at his own job, and he ends up wrapping around Seungmin from behind. Neither of them had bothered to get dressed after their shower, and even though he’s soft, he rocks against Seungmin’s ass, grinding his hips down.

Seungmin scoffs. “What, you’re gonna fuck me?” It wouldn’t be hard, honestly. He’s still open from Chan; Jisung could just slide in and do it while Seungmin’s still tamped down by his half-sleep.

“I could,” Jisung pouts. “If I get hard again, can I?”

Seungmin considers it, humming drowsily. He’s never had Jisung fuck him, because, well—look at the other cocks in their little friends-with-benefits situationship. Jisung’s not small, but he’s no Hyunjin or Chan or Jeongin. Seungmin thinks he’d prefer Jisung’s fist, size-wise.

But when he tells him as much, Jisung goes pouty. “Yeah,” he mutters, sliding off of Seungmin, making distance between them. “Right.”

He… offended Jisung, somehow. Maybe it’s just that he really wants to fuck something, but if that’s the case, he knows Chan would let him. Or Minho. Hell, Hyunjin probably would.

But he’s weirdly obsessed with fucking Seungmin, or Seungmin fucking him, even if he only brings it up in the idyllic afterglow, when he has collapsed on top of Jeongin, starry-eyed from how well he’d been fucked. Then, he’ll softly peck at his collarbone and offer, “You know, I could fuck you once I recover a bit.” Or else, cheeks flushed and whining: “Seungminnie, you should fuck me.”

Seungmin thinks he’s being a bit childish, honestly. He doesn’t know what he wants, maybe, because why the fuck would he want Seungmin’s cock when he has Hyunjin at his beck and call? Or Chan, or Minho, or Jeongin? And the same goes for Seungmin—shouldn’t Jisung be able to recognize that?

Still, Seungmin has put up a wall between them, and Jisung slides off and rifles through drawers until he comes up with his work uniform. He ends up being ready in time to leave with the other five, even though his shift doesn’t start for another hour, at least.

Fine by Seungmin. He can curl up in his too-big, too-cold bed and sleep a while longer, make the most of his day off.

He should have known the morning’s fuck wouldn’t be enough. It had started with Jisung, but since he’s amassed more and more fuck buddies, it’s like his sex drive has ramped up to an extreme it’s never reached before. He’s horny pretty constantly when he doesn’t have any other distractions.

And that’s how he winds up with the double-ended dildo again, letting it carve out his insides, steal his breath away. It had been more than enough for him before, but he now he finds himself feeling a bit empty despite its disrespectful size.

Because maybe it could be Jeongin instead, moving torturously slow above him. Or maybe it’d be more satisfying if he and Jisung were sharing it, Jisung underneath him in tears and Seungmin pressing sadistically on the protruding bulge in his belly.

He himself is near tears, and presses down on the intrusion distorting his body, but it’s not as good as it could be. It’s not even as satisfying as the shower quickie he’d had this morning.

He takes a break, pausing his movements with the dildo, and stretches for his phone. His hole is stretched around the shaft and he leaves it there while he checks to see. Not that any of them would likely have sent him anything while they’re busy with work, but Hyunjin had once sent him a dick pic during his shift, so he’s hopeful. He’d been classically conditioned from one worktime dick pic to hope for one every time, which is a little pathetic.

There’s no dick pic, no sexy messages. Jisung hasn’t messaged him at all, which is unusual, but probably he’s just busy. There’s a despondent message from Jeongin (to their group chat, which Seungmin feels is deeply unnecessary) lamenting that he’d agreed to pick up an extra shift and he’ll be back late tonight. Hyunjin offered to pick him up, since he’s working a long shift. Chan messaged asking for takeout orders, offering to pick it up on his way home.

Home. Meaning Seungmin’s home. It fills him with vague irritation, and he flings his phone to the side without providing his takeout order.

He sits and merely revels in the full feeling in his ass, letting it ground him. He’s considering starting back up when there’s a knock at his front door, small and timid.

Probably it’s just someone leaving a package, or a door-to-door salesman. In any case, Seungmin is a bit occupied (read: has a massive dildo shoved up his ass), and therefore not exactly keen on getting up to answer the door. He ignores it.

He falls back into his little trance—the knock comes again, more insistently. And again. And again, until it’s nonstop.

Jesus fucking Christ. It has to be his landlord or somebody, to be so persistent. Had he forgotten to pay rent? Has he had noise complaints? Has his landlord figured out that he has five other people living here rent-free?

Fuck his entire life. He eases the dildo out of himself and leaves it on the sheets (I’ll get back to you, he mentally promises). He pulls his sweatpants, long discarded on the floor, up around his hips. He’d overheated in his hoodie a little, but if he’s a little sweaty, it’s fine.

He pads to the front door, ignoring the uncomfortable gape in his ass, the way his hole clenches trying to shut it, and glances out his peephole.

It’s—god, what’s his name? Some guy who lives in his building—Seungmin has chatted with him briefly in the mailroom after a shift, exhausted and in his scrubs and badge.

What the fuck does he want, and how is it so important that it interrupts Seungmin’s very important plans?

He cracks his door open the bare minimum to not be rude—he’s not poking his head out of the gap, but he’s also not inviting this guy in. “Yes?” he asks as he opens the door.

Yeah, he remembers this guy. He’d be hard to forget. Bleached blonde hair, a dusting of freckles across his nose. Thinking back, Seungmin’s not sure if he ever got his name, because surely he wouldn’t forget it if he had.

He’s… bouncy, uncomfortable. He’s shifting his weight between his legs constantly, looking everywhere but Seungmin’s face and—is he blushing?

“Um,” he starts, wringing his hands together, in front of his hips. “Sorry, this is so awkward, but—you’re a doctor, right?”

“A nurse,” Seungmin corrects, mentally sighing. This is what nobody tells you about working in a medical profession—everyone, even neighbors you barely know, come to you with their ailments and ask your opinion for free.

“Okay,” he says. “Oh, um, I’m Felix, by the way?”

Felix. Strange name. Foreign, but Seungmin probably could have guessed that. “Seungmin,” he returns, wondering what crazy rash Felix is about to show him.

“Y-yeah! Sorry, I know, like—I should probably just go to the ER, but I haven’t lived here very long, and I’m kind of scared of it… Like, that they’ll judge me…”

It’s definitely a gnarly rash. Or a toenail filled with gangrene. Something gross—Seungmin kind of wants to see, even if not in his own living room.

“Well,” Seungmin says, resigning himself to working on his day off and opening his door, “I don’t have all my equipment here and it isn’t exactly professional, but I can take a look at whatever you have going on.” If it turns out to be beyond his scope, he’ll send the guy to the ER, no harm done.

Felix shuffles in, still awkward. Seungmin is about to direct him to sit on his sofa and ask him the preliminary questions of What’s wrong? or What are your symptoms? when he notices that Felix’s hands are bundled in front of his hips. Specifically, in front of his cock. Like he’s hiding a boner.

Good god, what kind of porno life is Seungmin living?

He is a professional, even in this less-than-professional environment. “So, Felix,” he says, politely pretending not to have noticed his predicament. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Um,” he says, and his gaze automatically falls to his crotch. Subtle. “Well, so—it’s my day off, right? So I slept in, and then I went to the bathroom. I always take my vitamins first thing. But—I wanted to go back to sleep, so I didn’t turn the bathroom light on. And I, um. I think I took a different pill than I meant to.”

Seungmin is a professional, dammit, and he doesn’t laugh! He barely holds back a snicker, fighting to keep his face neutral. Besides the obviously bullshit, well-rehearsed story he’s fed Seungmin, he has… taken an erectile dysfunction pill. As a man in his early twenties. Not that men in their early twenties can’t suffer from ED, but… well, if he were used to taking it he wouldn’t have come crawling to Seungmin, would he?

Keeping a straight face as best he can manage, he asks, “And… did this pill happen to have been small and blue?”

Felix’s face erupts in red. “I, well, uh—it was an accident!”

Right. And everyone who Seungmin sees with foreign bodies up their rectum just fell on it. Still—what’s the problem here? All he has to do is jerk off once—or, a few times, maybe—and he’d be fine. Unless—

“Of course,” he says. “And then, has your erection lasted for four or more hours?” Because if this is priapism, he probably really does need to get to the emergency room—not to mention that he should be in quite a bit of pain. But he doesn’t seem to be in pain, only severely embarrassed.

“Oh, no,” Felix says. “Just—I, uh. Took care of it once. And it’s still here.”

Yeah. Isn’t that the point? Get harder, last longer—for some men, that can mean a reduced refractory period or the ability to go multiple rounds in sequence. That’s… not concerning.

“Right,” Seungmin says. “Are you… experiencing any pain?”

“Uh—define pain…”

“Discomfort with being aroused isn’t what I’m talking about,” Seungmin says point-blank.

“Then, uh—none.”

What the fuck? This guy has taken boner pills to jerk off, gotten off once, and then gotten concerned when his boner didn’t go away? Is he stupid?

Seungmin is a professional!! He’s not going to laugh in this idiot’s face. He miraculously keeps a straight face, folds his hands in front of his body, and says, “Some people experience a shortened refractory period after taking those kinds of drugs. You may find that your erection lasts through multiple orgasms. I would recommend you… keep going, alone or with a partner. It’s only necessary to present to the ER if your erection lasts for more than four hours.”

“Did you say with a partner?” Felix asks.

Seungmin blinks. “Yes,” he admits.

“What if I, uh, don’t have a partner?”

Had he just willfully ignored the other half of what Seungmin had said? And anyway, of course this guy doesn’t have a partner. He’s spending his day off taking fucking boner pills to jerk off, Jesus.

“Masturbation will work just as well.”

Felix hesitates, looks like he’s about to just give up and scurry back to his own apartment. But then he seems to brace himself and spits out, all at once, “So like it’s kind of hard for me to finish when I’m on my own sometimes? But I’m new here and I don’t know how to meet anyone and I’m really fucking pent up and desperate and like you’re pretty cute and wouldyoupossiblywanttohavesexwithme?”

Seriously, are the sexual deviants just coming to him now?

In a different circumstance, Seungmin would probably have no qualms about this. Felix is cute and probably a lot of fun. But—he’s seen the bulge of his erection, and it doesn’t make him feel weak in the knees. And he can’t just assume that Felix would like to share his disrespectfully large double-ended dildo. How is this going to work?

Then again, hadn’t his whole problem with his own masturbation been that he hadn’t had anyone to help? It feels better when someone else does it, so maybe he shouldn’t look the pretty pervert who’d fallen into his lap too closely in the mouth. It’s just sex, it’s really not that serious.

So he shrugs. “Yeah, sure,” he agrees. “I was in the middle of something when you knocked, anyway.”

So he leads Felix back to his bedroom, and his eyes widen first at the size of the bed. “Fucking hell—” And then his eyes seem to land on the purple double-ended dildo Seungmin had been using, and he reiterates, “Fucking hell! You—with that—?”

“Yeah,” he says, already shucking his hoodie, his sweatpants. “Wanna use it on me? Or—you can share it with me?” he offers.

But Felix looks uncertain, shifts his weight between his feet as he considers. “I mean, that’s a bit… much for me.” Fair enough, Seungmin can understand that. “I—can I just fuck you? I—condom?”

Seungmin’s gaze drops very pointedly to Felix’s bulge. It’s not small, but… he’s a little spoiled now. Will it be enough? Felix is probably desperate, he can recognize. He’s probably aroused to the verge of discomfort, his balls aching and his shaft throbbing. Maybe he lets Felix fuck him—with protection—just to ease his discomfort, and then they can get into what Seungmin wants to do. He’s charitable like that.

“If you want,” he says. “But I’m pretty open from this,” he adds, indicating the dildo.

“That’s fine, god,” Felix breathes, working to shuck his own clothes. “I—don’t have to prep you. That’s perfect.”

When he drops his sweatpants and his cock springs free, it’s angry and red, like he had indeed been trying to get himself off and failing. He’s about the same size as Seungmin, he’d suppose, but—there’s an intriguing curve to his cock. Seungmin usually goes for size and size alone, but he imagines the head of his cock dragging along his sensitive inner walls and can’t quite suppress a shudder.

He reaches for his bedside table to grab a condom, and in that time, Felix fully undresses and grabs Seungmin’s hips. He rocks against him; the head of his cock catches on his gaping hole, and Seungmin aims a swat back at him.

“Condom,” he reminds him. “If we were at the hospital, I’d have you tested, but I’m taking no risks.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Felix agrees breathily, taking the condom from Seungmin with shaky hands. “Hey, maybe if I get a test, we could—we could try it raw.”

“Yeah, sure,” Seungmin agrees—for the time being. Felix, however pretty, might not be worth his time or effort; he has no way of knowing yet.

Felix manages to slide the condom on and plunges into Seungmin immediately, knocking the air from his lungs. He’s far enough removed from the dildo that he feels Felix, who groans and plasters his chest to Seungmin’s back.

Felix’s hands are scrabbling at Seungmin’s chest; one of them comes back down to grip his hip as he starts rutting into Seungmin. It’s desperate and crazed and animalistic, but each thrust sends a jolt of pleasure up into Seungmin’s gut. It’s not the choking, suffocating fullness that he craves, but Felix is the exact right length to press to the root and grind perfectly against his prostate.

“Fuck,” Seungmin chokes out, not expecting to be this into it. He must have been really horny, he thinks.

“Feel so good,” Felix praises, breathless. His movements are unsteady, alternating between jackhammering into Seungmin and grinding against him. Something about the inconsistency makes him crazier, he thinks.

And—he’s always enjoyed the stretch, the fullness, the challenge of it all. Felix isn’t a challenge to take—he’d slid in easily, like he’d belonged there. Seungmin derives pleasure from his prostate, of course, but he’s always preferred to just be filled, to let the sensation drive him mad.

But this—Felix hitting his prostate without even trying, on every thrust—this has him melting and going slack in Felix’s arms. Felix fucks him harder and presses a hand in the middle of his back, forcing him to bow to the mattress with a pitiful whine.

“You wanted this so bad, didn’t you?” Felix growls, obviously overtaken by everything. By the pill, by his arousal, by the feeling of Seungmin’s hole around him. “Tried fucking yourself but it wasn’t enough, huh?”

There’s truth to that—his recent sexcapades have meant that he hasn’t masturbated much, and it’s not nearly as satisfying as the real deal. Not nearly as satisfying as Felix, his hot breath across Seungmin’s skin and pounding inside of him, inescapably. Seungmin whimpers and squirms, feeling himself approach that edge.

“Close, and just from your hole?” Felix’s voice has turned slightly mocking, but Seungmin finds it makes him burn more. “Don’t need me to touch your cock at all, huh?”

“No,” he agrees, scrabbling to grasp at the sheets, needing something to ground him. It’s no use; he crashes over the edge, his head spinning, as Felix fucks him through it. It’s… long, he thinks. He feels like he’s coming for a long time, squirting white across the corner of his bedsheets; a bit splashes onto his nightstand, and he tries to remember that he’s going to have to wipe that off.

He comes, and he finishes, but Felix keeps going, fucking him through the twitchy aftershocks.

And he keeps going. He hasn’t come.

Seungmin moans weakly and tries to pull away, needing a second to recover. He’ll—he’ll blow Felix or something, but this neverending pounding on his prostate is going to kill him.

When he tries crawling away, Felix pulls his hips back, grinding firmly against his prostate again and making his limbs all give out. “Where are you going?” he asks, tugging Seungmin to sit up, molding their bodies together again. “I wasn’t done with you.”

It forces a jolt through his spent body—there’s something exciting about Felix needing to keep going, even after Seungmin has finished. This isn’t about him, or something—hadn’t Felix said something about just a hole…? Or no, that wasn’t quite it, but close enough.

“Right,” he mumbles, head hanging. Felix’s hips have started to move in earnest again, a hand pressing flat against his stomach, pressing him back against Felix. “Keep going, I—” I don’t matter. Seungmin is a damn good nurse, this is—this is helping his patient to the extreme! Nevermind that his patient could do this on his own, isn’t it better with a partner?

Felix keeps him more or less upright as he keeps fucking him, and Seungmin lets his mind go foggy and abstract, unaware of anything except the electric, buzzy tingles Felix is giving him. And when Felix finally finishes, he rolls his hips against Seungmin’s ass, grabs a handful of his ass cheek just for the hell of it.

He presses Seungmin back down to the mattress, ass up, not that Seungmin is really in a condition to resist. He’s utterly pliant in a way that maybe he shouldn’t be with a practical stranger. Felix’s hands come to grope his ass and he hardly moves.

“Your hole won’t close,” he notes, squishing his ass cheeks together as if that might make it work.

“Mhmm,” Seungmin agrees, boneless. “Dildo—gaping. Not like your come is gonna drip out.” He kind of wishes Felix had been able to come inside him, that he had been able to try to keep it all in him. But there’s a reason why he tries to minimize how many decisions horny Seungmin can make.

Felix hums in response, and then hooks his thumbs in Seungmin’s hole, spreads him even wider, and spits inside. He shudders as he feels it slide down inside of him, and then Felix slides a few fingers in, prodding at his exposed walls.

“Try to keep that in, yeah?” Felix encourages.

“Need—plug,” he gasps, wiggling his hips at the feeling. He shouldn’t be this horny, not when he’s already come, but—goddammit. Felix. “Check the drawer in the nightstand.”

Felix presses a tender little kiss to the globe of his ass cheek, and then dives to dig through Seungmin’s assortment of sex toys, most of them grotesquely large.

“This one?” Felix offers, holding one up to Seungmin’s line of sight.

It’s one of his massive ones—he thinks he’d been wearing it the first time he’d had Jisung over. A ring at the end to help tug it free, but the ridiculous large graduated bulbs that will fill him well.

“Yes,” he says, not caring if he sounds whiny. That—that will feel wonderful. He’ll get the best of both worlds—his prostate pounded by Felix, then stretched unnaturally wide around the plug.

Felix tries to ease it in, but he seems a bit worried about hurting Seungmin. He has to reach back to help guide it in, moaning and twitching as he feels the bulbs increase in size.

“Holy shit,” Felix is mumbling. The plug is flush and he’s rubbing around the base, as if staggered that the entire thing fit inside Seungmin. “I could put my whole fist in you, couldn’t I?”

Seungmin chokes out a laugh, pressing his hand on his stomach to feel the dull intrusion, letting his hole uselessly clench around the plug. “I’ve had bigger fists than yours up there.”

The plug is going to keep him in some state of hazy stimulation, which is maybe for the best, because Felix is still hard.

When he moves Seungmin onto his back, he’s careful, like he might jostle the plug and hurt him. But Seungmin craves it, the achingly full feeling, and he feels his cock stir between his legs again. His legs are parted with how full he feels, and he’s sure his eyes are lidded as he looks up at Felix.

“It turns you on,” Felix realizes. “You—Jesus, my hot nurse neighbor is a fucking pervert.”

“My hot foreign neighbor is, too,” Seungmin pants, reaching down to palm his cock. “I don’t buy the excuse that you took that shit on accident, by the way.”

“It worked out for me, in the end,” Felix says cheerfully. “Come here.”

He pulls Seungmin into his lap to straddle him and wraps his shockingly small hand around both of their cocks. Seungmin shudders from the stimulation and lets his face fall into Felix’s blonde hair, inhaling his shampoo. Strawberry, he thinks.

“Come on, I’m not done yet,” Felix murmurs, stroking them off in long, unbearable pulls—Seungmin has a feeling he’s not going to get a break for a while yet.

He’s deep asleep, he and Felix tangled around each other. Only once they’d made a mess of his stomach and chest and he’d genuinely whined and pulled away from Felix’s ministrations had he stopped. Felix had helped him wipe off and swiped his cock teasingly against his sore, open hole. He was soft now but seemed no less exhausted for all his effort.

In fact, once they were clean and fell back into Seungmin’s bed—the sheets can be stripped later—Felix had teased at his hole again. “You’re open enough I could go in soft,” he’d said, nuzzling happily into the back of Seungmin’s neck.

“So do it,” he’d mumbled back.

Felix had, and now they’re a tangle of limbs. Felix has his lips in Seungmin’s hair, his now-hard cock in his ass, and they’re both deeply asleep.

Until Jisung bangs the door open, calling, “Seung—what the fuck?”

They both jolt awake, Felix so startled by the strange man in his neighbor’s apartment that he falls out of Seungmin, staggers back on the mattress.

“Who are you?” Jisung demands, hands on hips.

“I—” Felix tries, looking to Seungmin, who looks groggy but unconcerned. “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend!”

“Boyfriend?” Seungmin asks, squinting at Jisung. “No, that’s just Jisung.”

“Just—” Jisung starts, then squints at Seungmin. “What the fuck does that mean? We’re not boyfriends?”

“Boyfriends?” Seungmin asks, his eyes widening. No, absolutely not! He’d—he’d know if Jisung were his boyfriend! And, anyway—“If we’re boyfriends, by that same metric, am I not also Hyunjin’s boyfriend? Jeongin? Minho? Chan?”

Jisung sputters, like he can’t believe it. “I, well—yes, of course!”

No? There’s no way Seungmin just casually has five boyfriends. They—they fuck! That’s all!

And, well, they spend most nights. They kiss him an annoying amount. They have clothes in his dresser and food in his cupboards. They drag him out on what some may call dates.

He—He has five boyfriends. He has five boyfriends and he’s just randomly fucked a neighbor and—he scrabbles back against the headboard.

“No, I—” he protests. “We never said—”

“Sorry,” Felix says, trying to shrink himself. “Should I… go?”

“Don’t you dare,” Jisung threatens, blocking the doorway. “I’m—this is ridiculous. I’m calling the others. You know. The group chat that’s literally called boyfriends, Seungmin.”

“That’s—that’s because—” he tries. “Because it was Chan’s and Minho’s and Jeongin’s, and we were just added to it?”

“How fucking stupid are you?” Jisung asks, then sighs heavily and taps away on his phone. Seungmin sinks against his pillows and draws his knees to his chest. They’re—really, by all accounts, in everything but name, they’re dating. Seungmin is so, so stupid. And he—he might have fucked something up. Fuck.

Jisung has initiated a group call, and despite it being the middle of the afternoon, at least Chan and Minho answer. “Jisungie?” comes Chan’s voice. “I’m between meetings, is this important?”

“I took a smoke break,” says Minho’s voice.

“You don’t smoke, Min,” Chan reminds him.

“Don’t tell my boss that,” Minho snarks.

“Shut up,” Jisung says, frowning. “How long have we been dating? The six of us?”

“Couple months,” Minho says immediately.

“It was two months on the seventeenth,” Chan recalls, and Seungmin’s stomach sinks.

“Six of you?” Felix asks, looking to Seungmin. No, not looking—glaring. God, he’s the world’s biggest dumbass, isn’t he?

“I didn’t—” he says, grasping for more flimsy excuses. “We never said—”

“Seungmin didn’t know,” Jisung says shortly. “That we were all dating.”

“What is he, braindead?” Minho asks. “What the fuck have I been kissing him for every morning? Before he brushes his teeth, even!”

“I mean,” Chan says thoughtfully. “I guess we never, like, cemented it. Made it super official.”

“Please, can I leave?” Felix begs again.

“Who is that?” Minho asks warily. “Why does his voice sound familiar?”

“Oh, Jesus, I’m just—I’m a neighbor,” he says, already creeping on the floor and trying to gather his clothes. “Seriously, you’ll never hear from me again. I’ll move away. Please, god.”

There’s a few seconds’ pause, and then Chan’s voice says, cautious, “...Felix?”

Felix stiffens, pulling his pants over his hips, and creeps over to look at Jisung’s phone screen. And then his eyes widen comically. “Chris? Oh, god, Minho? You two—you’re dating my neighbor?”

“No fucking way,” Jisung groans.

“Jisung,” Chan says. “Seungmin. Why is Felix in your apartment shirtless?”

“Seungmin?” Jisung asks, and Seungmin curls into a ball.

“I’m sorry,” he says, hollow. “I—I really didn’t know.” And he doesn’t know how Chan and Minho know Felix, but that doesn’t really matter, at the end of the day. How does he make this right?

Minho breaks the tension, the awful dread settling heavy in Seungmin’s stomach. “Well, Yongbok,” he says. “Was Seungminnie too kinky for you?”

“Oh my god,” Felix says, walking away and covering his face with his hands, overcome.

“Sorry,” Jisung says, squinting his eyes at the phone. “How do you two know Seungmin’s neighbor?”

“He’s Australian,” Chan says, helpfully. “I’m Australian. You know.”

“I know him through Channie,” Minho says. “Australians.”

Chan heaves a sigh over the phone. “Listen, Sung,” he says. “I have a meeting coming up here. I think we all need to talk about this, but it’s going to have to wait for tonight. If Seungminnie didn’t know, he’s a little dense, sure, but we could have defined ourselves a little better. And Felix?”

“...Yeah?” he asks, quiet and sheepish.

“You fucked Seungminnie?”

“...Yeah.”

“Did you have fun?” Chan asks.

“...I don’t really want to answer that, Chris,” he admits, folding his arms over his chest.

“Listen, don’t get upset over it,” he says. “It happened, it’s in the past. I mean, Jisung and Seungmin and Hyunjin were one closed unit, and then we kind of merged, yeah? There can be room for more, casual or not. And Seungmin, don’t you sweat it, either, okay?”

A closed unit. Were he and Jisung and Hyunjin boyfriends before the other three had come in? Good god. Is Chan being nicer about this because it’s Felix, someone he apparently knows? Seungmin just feels sick.

“Hey, my boss should let me go after this meeting, okay? So I can be home soon and help try to sort this out,” Chan offers.

“Oh, good,” Minho says. “I can call a family emergency and have an excuse to come home. Hyunjinnie and Jeonginnie will be in late, but that’s alright for now.”

“Felix?” Chan says. “Text me a takeout order, I was gonna pick some up on the way home.”

“Chris, I’d rather just go home,” Felix admits, looking shaken.

“Not allowed!” he insists. “You have to be part of the discussion. Jisung, be nice to Felix, okay?”

“I’ll be home first,” Minho says. “Gonna go tell my boss I had a family emergency.” He sounds gleeful at the prospect.

Minho, as promised, is home in about thirty minutes, loosening his tie as he walks in the door. Seungmin is still naked in bed, too stricken and guilty to move. Felix had tugged on his hoodie, and Jisung had stalked out to the living room.

When Minho comes in, Felix is sitting at the kitchen table, unsure. Jisung is on the sofa, glaring at the wall. Seungmin has fallen against the headboard, still in shock.

“Hey, Yongbokkie,” Minho greets, like this is all normal. “Seungmin, quit being dramatic and get out here!” His eyes fall on Jisung on the couch, and he coos at him. “And you look really pouty, baby,” he says, obviously trying to make Jisung smile.

“Don’t,” he says, pulling away from Minho. “You can’t not be upset about this just because you know the guy Seungmin fucked!”

Felix winces.

“Yongbok’s harmless,” Minho promises. “And he wouldn’t have ever tried to fuck Seungminnie if he knew Seungmin had five boyfriends. Our dense little Seungminnie.”

Seungmin creeps out into the living room, in a hoodie that probably belongs to Jeongin and a pair of Chan’s shorts.

“Alright,” Minho sighs, once everyone’s gathered in the same space. “Obviously we need to wait for Hyunjinnie and Jeonginnie, but Channie should be on his way. Seungmin—yes, you’re a little stupid for not knowing we were dating, but Chan was right. We never officially said that we were dating, the six of us.”

“He should have known that we were dating,” Jisung protests. “The three of us!” Jisung, Hyunjin, Seungmin. Was… Were Seungmin and Jisung dating before Hyunjin, even? But if they were dating, why hadn’t Jisung said anything about the addition of Hyunjin? Why hadn’t Hyunjin protested Seungmin inviting Chan, Minho, and Jeongin?

“I should have,” Seungmin admits, sitting numbly in a recliner. Minho pulls Jisung onto his lap; Felix remains at the kitchen table but in sight. “But I didn’t. I just—we were fuck buddies, right?”

Tears spring to Jisung’s eyes and he looks away. “Hang on,” Minho chides. “You never clarified that you thought you were dating, right? You can’t expect Seungmin to know if you don’t ask, or if you don’t call him your boyfriend. We have a lot of sex, I can see where he got confused.”

“We do more than that!” Jisung insists.

“Of course,” Minho soothes. “Like I said, it was dense of him. But he’s not the only one to blame here.”

“Wait,” Seungmin says. “I mean, I like—I fucked Felix. And we’re all dating.”

Minho glances over at Felix, slumped guiltily at the table. “And—how did Felix end up in your apartment?”

“He, uh—” Seungmin says, glancing over his shoulder at the guy. He’s bright red again. “He had a mishap.”

Minho squints. “Something that you might need a nurse for? Something you might be embarrassed to go to the ER about?”

“...Yeah,” Seungmin admits, not daring to look at Felix’s reaction.

Minho nods in understanding. “We kind of thought it was a matter of time until you brought someone back home from the ER again. It seems to be the main way you meet boyfriends.”

They’d… talked about it. About Seungmin finding another sexual deviant at his job and bringing him home as the sixth boyfriend. Maybe as nothing more than a joke, but—here he is, in almost the exact position described.

Probably they just thought it’d be something they did together, rather than Seungmin going it alone.

“I’m sorry,” Seungmin insists again. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known—if I was less fucking stupid—”

“I kind of came on to Seungmin,” Felix interjects, looking up from the table. “It’s not like he—he went after me. I more went after him, and he agreed. It’s more my fault than his. He was prepared to be entirely professional about the… situation.”

Jisung breathes purposefully, inhale then exhale. And he looks at Seungmin, still locked in Minho’s arms. “I’m not upset, specifically, that you fucked Felix,” he determines. “And I’m not upset that you didn’t know we were dating, I guess. I mean, like… I was kind of shy, and uncertain, and it’s not like I specifically asked you to be my boyfriend. It was an assumption. And we—we all kind of took over your apartment without asking, then, huh? We should apologize for that,” he says, glancing back at Minho.

“I cook you dinner,” Minho protests. “I don’t apologize.” Jisung elbows him in the ribs. “Okay, I apologize slightly.”

“And I’m sorry about that, too,” Jisung says. “Maybe it wasn’t so annoying when it was just me, and then Hyunjin, but it’s still rude to just… assume.”

“It’s okay,” Seungmin murmurs. “I—complained in my head, but I think all the annoying stuff was outweighed by all the nice stuff.”

Jisung nods. “What I’m upset about,” he says, and his voice wavers. “You don’t want to fuck me. You don’t want me to fuck you. But Felix—who, in your head, is also not your boyfriend—did. You let him.”

It hits Seungmin straight in the chest. Jisung… does ask for that a lot. And Seungmin guesses he knows why, now. He… loves Seungmin. Wants to feel close to him in a different way. And he had let Felix, who he barely knows, do what Jisung has been begging to do.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately. “I could just—I could never figure out why you wanted that from me. Felix was—it was—there were—special circumstances…?”

Felix jumps in to help. “I might have taken boner pills and I might have felt like my balls were going to explode if I didn’t fuck something.” And then he rounds on Seungmin. “But why the fuck aren’t you fucking your fuck-buddy-slash-boyfriend?”

Minho snorts a laugh. “You haven’t seen Channie’s cock, huh? Or better yet—Hyunjinnie’s?”

Felix scowls. “No, but—look at him! He’s asking you to fuck him and you say no? Are you a monster?”

Seungmin does feel guilty, looking now at Jisung. It’s plain how much Jisung adores him—he’s known that since before this conversation—but he’d somehow mistakenly associated it with the sex rather than anything else. “I’m sorry, Sung,” Seungmin croaks. “I just—I wanted you to feel the best you could. I thought that you wouldn’t feel the best you could with me.”

“I don’t need a monster cock to be satisfied,” he protests, grumpy. “I just want to feel close to you.”

“Romantic,” Felix notes, not without a touch of irony.

Chan comes in at the tail end of this exchange, bags of take-out dangling from his arms. “Oh,” he says, seeing everyone look more or less okay. “Did Minho do a good job parenting, then?”

It was a long ass fucking shift, Seungmin thinks as he stalks home. It had been overnight, and it’s just now sunrise; he’d like to go home, take a shower, and pass out. It should be about the time that Chan and Minho are heading to work; everyone else’s shifts he can’t keep track of, so it’ll be a surprise who, if anyone, will stay at home with him.

He crawls in his apartment just as it looks like Chan and Minho—plus Hyunjin—are preparing to leave. “There you are, Seungminnie!” Chan says brightly, too bright for someone who has to go spend an entire day in an office. “Was work okay?”

“Hey,” Hyunjin says, wrapping around him immediately. “You have to spend time with me tonight, since you worked all night and I have to work all day.”

“Hey, dumbass,” Minho calls from the kitchen. From Minho (when it’s Seungmin he’s talking about), dumbass is basically a term of endearment. “Did you eat? I made breakfast because Jisung was whining about it.” Read: I made breakfast because Jisung offhand mentioned he was hungry and I decided I had to make a feast about it.

“Work was hell, I might consider sitting on your cock tonight if you ask nicely, and I scarfed down down half a donut between patients,” Seungmin answers, wrapping them into all one complete sentence.

“No boyfriend number seven yet?” Chan asks, reaching to kiss him gently, even though he’s just worked a sixteen-hour shift and hasn’t brushed his teeth or anything.

“I didn’t have any morons come in with cucumbers up their ass, or anything,” Seungmin says, and Minho shoves a plate in his hands, loaded with breakfast.

“Eat this,” he says, as if he couldn’t care less. “The last thing we need is for you to pass out from hunger with no one but The Kids around to take care of you.” Which confirms, more or less, that Jeongin, Felix, and Jisung don’t have work, at least not imminently.

Predictably, Hyunjin kisses all over his face, making him scrunch his face up in defense. “Bye, Seungminnie,” he says, finishing with a kiss to his lips.

Chan kisses him again, gentle and soft, and Minho kisses him once, and finishes it off with an ass grab that Seungmin doesn’t have the energy to protest.

He picks at the food on the plate Minho had given him briefly, before he steps in the bathroom to start the shower, to let the water heat up. He pokes his head in to the bedroom just to check. He’s half-expecting something depraved, but no—they’re all still asleep. The others must have taken care not to wake them, then.

Jeongin is wrapped around Felix from behind, holding him fast to his chest even deep asleep. Jisung, on Felix’s other side, has shifted away from them in his sleep, or else he was just snuggled with someone else. In the end, he doesn’t want to disturb them, either, so he slips off to take as quick a shower as he can.

It’s much more expedient than when he showers with someone else and his exhaustion means that he wants to get out and crawl into his warm bed with three of his boyfriends and sleep the morning away, at least. Sometimes after a shift he’s pent up and desperate, but not today.

He dries off and roots through their clothes until he finds a suitable sweatshirt—Hyunjin’s, he thinks. He gets in on the side closest to Jisung, who stirs when he senses Seungmin’s presence. “Hey,” he grumbles, automatically rolling towards him, on top of him. “You’re home.”

“Mhmm,” he hums in confirmation. He registers Jisung wrapping around him tighter and settling the blankets around them, but then he falls deep asleep.

When he wakes, it’s to Jisung whining in his ear, still clutching him tightly.

“Seung–Seungminnie,” he stammers, and Seungmin groans and rolls until he’s facing Jisung. Jeongin and Felix are both dressing hastily for their shifts, and Jisung is still in bed.

“Don’t you have work, baby?” he mumbles, still out of it.

“Not until this afternoon,” Jeongin says, bending over to offer him a kiss. “Fucked him once, didn’t know he was going to get all horny about it. Your problem, hyung. If I’m late one more time, I’m fired.”

“Finish what Felix started,” Jisung grumbles, glaring daggers at him.

Felix laughs and ruffles Jisung’s hair, then Seungmin’s. “Sorry, you looked too cute! At least we got you prepped for Seungminnie, huh?”

Had he somehow slept through Jeongin and Felix fucking Jisung? God, he’s exhausted. He reaches down to prod at Jisung’s hole; it’s slick and open and leaking far too much liquid to be only lube. “Calm down, baby,” he says, guiding Jisung to flip and fumbling with the front of his pants. “You gotta be still, though, I need to go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, Jisungie,” Felix teases, flicking him on the chin and cooing. “Seungminnie works hard to help delinquents like us, let him rest.” He kisses Jisung’s pouted lips, overly fond. They’d had a rocky start, but now Felix is disgustingly fond of Jisung, and Felix is one of Jisung’s favorite people to go to when he’s out of control horny.

“C’mere, Sung,” Seungmin murmurs, pressing Jisung against him and onto his half-hard cock in one fell swoop. It’s a bit messy for Seungmin to be all the way into, but it’s warm and wet and he can’t help a few indulgent, uncoordinated thrusts into his hole. He whines and presses back, but Seungmin holds his hips still. “No, baby, sleep.”

He settles back down, especially with Seungmin stroking his chest.

“Lix,” Jeongin says anxiously, “I can’t be late.”

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” he gripes. “Bye Sung, bye Min! See you tonight.” He drops kisses on each of their heads, and Jeongin does the same to their cheeks, and it’s only a few moments before they’re left in quiet solitude, just with each other. Jisung has quieted down and Seungmin already feels sleep dragging him back down.

“Missed you overnight, Min,” Jisung mumbles, sounding sleepy, as well.

“‘m sure you managed. The others took care of you.”

“Yeah,” he admits, rearranging Seungmin’s arms around him, nuzzling back against him. “But I still missed you, regardless. Glad you’re here.”

“Me too, baby,” he murmurs, and presses a kiss behind his ear. And then sleep drags him down yet again, his breathing and heartrate slowing, but somehow in tandem with Jisung’s.

“Hey, get a load of this,” says a nurse, tugging Seungmin into an unoccupied exam room. On the X-ray illuminator is something that looks like a gag from a movie.

It’s the lower half of someone’s body, certainly. And is that—

A fucking dumbbell?

It’s not one of the rinky dink ones, either. This is at least five pounds, one of the models where the end is so wide and blunt that Seungmin doesn’t even think it’s possible—

Oh, but it is, apparently. According to the X-ray before him.

The other end is, apparently, hanging out the guy’s ass, the shaft buried halfway up.

And, look, Seungmin shoves a lot of things up his and his boyfriends’ asses. He considers himself something of an expert, an artist, if you will.

But never, in his twenty-something years of existence and decade plus of sexual experimentation has he even considered something so utterly depraved—

He has to see this guy. He’s an expert at pulling unfortunate objects from unfortunate people’s orifices, and he’d just like to lend a professional hand, here. That’s all. No ulterior motive. Not like he wants to catch a glimpse of the absolute maniac who’d wound up with a dumbbell up his ass.

“I’d be willing to offer my professional opinion, of course,” Seungmin says, glancing over at his coworker.

“Exam Room F,” she says, already walking off. “Seo Changbin, his chart’s outside his door.”

Finally, something to break up the monotony of the night shift. It’s always the sex weirdos who come in on night shift. He snatches Seo Changbin’s chart and flips through it. It’s pretty basic stuff, given that he’s just in for, as his chart states, “foreign body inside rectum [dumbbell] [5 lbs].” He’s just a bit older than Seungmin—that tracks, it’s usually young idiots coming in with dumb sex injuries.

He knocks on the door to give a bit of warning before breezing inside. “Mr. Seo?” he greets, as if the patient isn’t in a hospital gown on his side. Since the gown is open in the back, he can see one end of the dumbbell protruding out the back of the gown, and he has to remind himself that this is not funny. The patient is probably very scared, humiliated. “My name is Kim Seungmin, I’ll be your nurse this evening.” He doesn’t antagonize him with the usual What brings you in today? question, because—it’s fucking obvious, huh?

The guy lets out a nervous, awkward laugh. “Would you buy it if I said I fell on it?”

“Not for a second,” Seungmin admits, turning back to his chart. He wheels around to face the guy, since it’s probably better bedside manner to explain what he’s going to do about the dumbbell in his ass face-to-face, and—mistake. Enormous mistake.

This guy is hot, what the fuck? How many hot guys are out having really unfortunate sex catastrophes? The hospital gown is one-size-fits-all and it barely contains his biceps. His hair is fluffy, mussed, his lips so pouty Seungmin wants to kiss him immediately.

He’s meeting this guy in an ER exam room with a dumbbell up his ass; imagine if he’d just seen him out the wild. How whipped would he be then?

He clears his throat, trying to dispel any unprofessional thoughts. “So, listen,” he says. “I saw the X-ray. The end of the dumbbell—it’s pretty thick. Did you try to dislodge it yourself?”

“Believe it or not, my first recourse wasn’t to come to the emergency room and have a really hot nurse try to finesse it out.”

Charming, even in this situation. Seungmin might be in love, and he embarrassingly thinks his face turns a bit pink. “What’s the lube situation like?” Seungmin asks.

“A lot of it,” he admits. “I wasn’t going to get that thing up there otherwise. But, um—it dried out a little. And I was kind of panicking and couldn’t get enough far enough up there to—to pull it out.”

“I’m going to examine you,” Seungmin says with a nod, wheeling around to don gloves and a mask, and then wheeling around to Changbin’s ass. It’s… almost comical, seeing the dumbbell protruding from between his ass cheeks. He’d thought his hole might gape a little from the sheer size of the thing inside him, but it’s shut again around the shaft. Tricky. “I’ll administer a mild sedative,” he determines—he doesn’t want to knock Changbin out and not be able to know if he’s tearing him deep inside, but he also doesn’t think this thing is getting out without a good deal of discomfort.

Changbin is quiet as Seungmin preps the needle and slips it under his skin. He checks over his chart while he waits for it to kick in, and Changbin stays silent staring at the drab wall.

“I feel it,” he says quietly. “Kinda hazy.”

“Alright,” Seungmin says. “Let me know if you experience any pain, alright? I’ll warn you before I start trying to pull, I’m just trying to see our situation for now.”

Changbin nods, facing away from Seungmin. “You know,” he says, as he hears Seungmin slick up his gloved fingers. “Usually, I make a guy buy me dinner first. But I really want this thing out of me, so what do you say I buy you dinner afterwards?”

That’s a first, a patient asking him out on his exam table. And he wants it, badly—but he needs to check with his boyfriends first. They make enough jokes about the elusive 7th emergency room boyfriend, so he thinks they’ll be amenable to the suggestion.

“Let me get this thing out of you and we can talk, alright?” he mumbles. “It’ll be cold, alright?”

The shaft of the thing isn’t very wide, and once Seungmin pushes his fingers past the initial ring of muscle, the hole opens up wide, propped up by the enormous size of the end of the dumbbell.

It’s an awkward 20 minutes of finagling, failing, almost giving up and referring him to surgery, and then finagling again, but at the end of it all, Seungmin is triumphantly hefting a lube-slick dumbbell and plopping it on the exam tray.

He examines Changbin again just to make sure he doesn’t see any perforations, and then snaps his gloves off and rolls to the computer.

Changbin clears his throat. “I promise I’m not, like, a sexual deviant.”

“Heard that one before,” Seungmin comments, keeping his tone light. “That’s what the sexual deviants always say.”

“Isn’t that kind of fun, though? I mean, we’ll have to lie to our grandkids about how we met, of course. But the least I can do for you is buy you dinner—or, breakfast, when you get off your shift.”

“Refrain from anal penetration of any kind for a couple of days,” Seungmin says, ignoring him for now. “You might experience tenderness and mild pain. If it gets more severe or you find penetration unbearable, you should come back and let me check you over again.”

Changbin blinks. “So if I ask for a private consultation, it’s a no, right?”

“One moment, please,” Seungmin says breezily, stepping out into the hallway with Changbin’s chart.

And he cycles through the list of boyfriends, starting with those most likely to be awake at this hour. Starting with Jisung, who picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, Seungminnie,” he says, sounding fully awake. “How’s work?”

“There is an incredibly sexy sexual freak in Exam Room F who keeps asking me out as I’m digging in his ass to get the dumbbell he shoved up there out. Please let me go on a date with him and maybe invite him over for the boyfriend swarm in a couple of days when his ass is healed.”

“Oh my god,” Jisung says, sounding excited. And then it sounds like he’s smacking someone. “Channie! We found sexual deviant boyfriend number seven! Hyunjinnie, wake up! Freakass boyfriend number seven time!”

“Oh, finally,” says Minho’s voice in the background. “You six are getting to be too vanilla for me.”

“Hang on,” Jisung says. “Did you say dumbbell?”

“Yes, love you, gotta run!” Seungmin says. “I’ll explain at home!”

And he hangs up the phone, ignoring the fact that all his boyfriends are all on board for Sexual Deviant Boyfriend Number Seven. As far as he’s concerned, he can’t tell his parents how he met any of his boyfriends at this point.

He returns back to Exam Room F with Changbin’s chart, sits back in his office chair, and wheels around to him. “Alright,” he says. “I’ve got your discharge paperwork all settled. I’d take it easy for a few hours; the sedative should wear off by then. If you don’t have a ride, I’d recommend you hang around and wait for it to wear off. Actually, I get off at seven; I’d say it’d wear off by then. Usually I’m starving when I finish a shift, too.”

Changbin blinks stupidly a few times, then grins broadly. “Great. I’ll buy, then, and you can forget that you saw inside my asshole for the next couple days. Then maybe I’ll let you look again, to jog your memory.”

Seungmin lets out a snorting laugh, covering his mouth on instinct. “That’s fucking gross, man.”

“You just pulled a dumbbell out of my ass,” Changbin says. “Let’s not pretend that I’m a blushing virgin, now.”

Seungmin wants to kiss him right here, right now, which is kind of fucking ridiculous, given the circumstances. And he’ll bring up the fact that he’s kind of a package deal—probably over breakfast, once his sedative has worn off and he’s had a chance to process that the guy he’d invited out for breakfast has already basically had his whole fist up his asshole.

Seungmin goes a bit overboard when he gets home from breakfast with Changbin, flops on top of Jeongin and waxes absolutely poetic about the hunky dumb beefcake who’d gotten a dumbbell stuck up his ass.

“You know,” Chan says, already dressed for work. He’d hung back to talk to Seungmin and now runs his fingers through his hair. “If you like him so much, why don’t you go on a real date with him? Then, if it goes well, bring him back here?”

Changbin had been a bit incredulous when Seungmin admitted that he already had six boyfriends, all acquired through ridiculous sex injuries. But he’d accepted it in the end with a shrug, said that he really liked Seungmin and he’d be down to meet his boyfriends—”contingent on the full recovery of my rectum.”

“No,” he mumbles. “Shouldn’t it be, like… all of us?”

“Don’t you think that’d be overwhelming?” Chan reasons. “Seven of us and one of him? You go and have a fun date with him and put him at ease and then we can throw him into all the craziness. If we like him, we’ll get to go on dates with him, too, anyway.”

“It’s my day to sleep in,” Hyunjin grumbles from the other side of Seungmin; he’s still atop Jeongin who has since fallen back asleep. “Can you two shut up? Seungmin, go on the date with the himbo and then we’ll fuck his brains out after.”

“Sorry, Hyunjinnie,” Chan says, stretching to ruffle his hair fondly, then pecking Seungmin on the lips again. “Sleep well, Seungminnie.”

It’s kind of weird going on a date with Changbin knowing that he has six boyfriends at home just kind of lying in wait. But he goes on the date and it’s so much fun. Changbin is only a little awkward about the entire scenario.

They walk around the boardwalk, they eat ice cream. They throw fish food to the fish and Seungmin considers forcing him to go on the Ferris wheel, but he seems pretty skittish about it, honestly.

And when they’re heading back to Seungmin’s apartment hand in hand (and swinging them obnoxiously between their bodies), Seungmin is kind of buzzing. He loves all of his boyfriends, of course, but Changbin’s a bit special in that he’d gone on a proper first date with him, rather than just, like… fucking.

Like, they’re absolutely still going to do that, but the ice cream and everything was fun, too.

And then Changbin shifts his eyes over to Seungmin and asks, cautious, “So… how much did you tell your boyfriends about me?”

Seungmin meets his eye and grins. “If you’re asking me if they know you got a dumbbell stuck up your ass, they absolutely do.”

“Oh, god,” Changbin says, already looking panicky.

“Hey, hey,” Seungmin says, trying to calm him. “They have no room to tease you. So, Jisung shoved some rubber-banded mass of office supplies up his ass. Hyunjin got his cock stuck in a Pringles can. Felix took boner pills and freaked out about them. Umm… Chan and Minho and Jeongin were just kind of a slapstick comedy, I think. Chan got concussed and Jeongin almost snapped his dick and Minho’s taint got bruised.”

Changbin blinks, trying to absorb all of this information. Then, predictably: “Did you say he got his dick stuck in a Pringles can?”

Seungmin grins so hard his cheeks ache. “Yep.”

“Like a…” And he mimes the rough size and diameter of a standard Pringles can.

“Yep, that’s the one,” Seungmin confirms. “He didn’t want me to cut the top out in case I nicked the head of his cock with my scalpel. He was filling it to the top.”

Changbin’s hand squeezes Seungmin’s and he looks weak in the knees. “What did you—what did you get me into?”

“I won’t let them hurt you,” Seungmin promises. “Not any more than you want them to, anyway.”

As they walk into the lobby, it kind of strikes Seungmin that he’ll have to share Changbin from here on out. Which is fine—he loves Changbin a lot and he knows that his boyfriends will, too—but he wants to be selfish for just a little while longer.

“One second,” he says, and drags Changbin into the mail room. He presses him up against one of the counters, hooks his thumbs in his belt loops, and brings their lips together, soft at first.

“You don’t want to share me?” Changbin mumbles, dragging Seungmin back towards his lips, his hand fisted in the front of his shirt.

“It’s not that,” he murmurs back, but Changbin’s kissing him, and there’s not much more he’s willing to break away to say. Changbin is soft but not exactly pliant. It feels a bit like he’s fighting Seungmin, challenging him. He’s wrinkling the front of his shirt and keeping him firmly pulled against his lips. It might be soft and lazy were it not for the layer of expectation undercutting it all, and Seungmin feels Changbin shudder against him. He pulls back enough to murmur, “They’ll probably eat you alive, and I want to make sure I get a chance with you first.”

Changbin lets out a nervous little laugh, releasing Seungmin to run a hand through his hair. “I’d let you fuck me right here, right now.”

Seungmin snorts in derision. “You don’t want me to fuck you, I promise. Maybe eventually, sure—but you’d better make a decision when you see everyone undressed.”

Changbin whimpers, wraps his hand around the back of Seungmin’s neck, and pulls him back tight to his lips. Seungmin obliges because Changbin is warm and soft and kissing him kind of sends butterflies through his tummy, just like he knew it would.

But only for a little, because he has to drag Changbin upstairs to run the boyfriend gauntlet.

They’re clasping hands as they run up the stairs, Seungmin half-dragging Changbin behind him and making him stumble rather than run.

The door’s unlocked and Seungmin barges in without any warning or announcing his interest; everyone’s scattered about the apartment. Felix and Hyunjin are cleaning up in the kitchen; Minho and Jeongin lounge on the couch. Jisung rummages through the fridge and Chan has paused in the entryway, apparently caught up in an email on his phone.

“Oh,” he says, glancing up. “Hi, I’m Chan.”

Changbin’s kind of gawking, looking around at the six boyfriends who are in turn staring him right back down.

“What the fuck?” Felix says, breaking the silence. “You definitely downplayed how hot he is, Seungminnie, no fair.”

“Who gets to fuck him?” Jeongin asks, sprawled across Minho’s lap, more platonic and annoying than strictly romantic.

“Jeongin, shut up,” Chan scolds. “Sorry, they’re a lot. I hope Seungmin warned you.” And he glares at Seungmin at the end, like he’s not wrapped around Changbin’s arm.

“I warned him that we met through your sexual deviancy,” Seungmin defends.

“A guy tries to fuck a Pringles can once and he’s labeled a sexual deviant forever,” Hyunjin laments dramatically, falling on top of Jisung.

“Are we talking or just getting straight into it?” Felix asks, already having abandoned the dishes he was scrubbing.

“Shouldn’t we talk?” Chan asks pointedly, glaring at Felix.

“Oh, um,” Changbin pipes in, clinging tight to Seungmin in the face of all the new people. “I, um, it might make me feel better to just get into it. Talking will just make me more nervous that I already am, I think.”

“No need to be nervous,” Seungmin assures him. “The only one who bites is Jeongin, sometimes.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” he retorts, letting Minho yank him off the couch. Jisung, Felix, and Hyunjin have already torn (or, in Hyunjin’s case, been dragged) for the bedroom. Minho and Jeongin go on ahead, and Chan shoots Changbin a sympathetic smile.

“If they’re too much,” Chan says, “just tell them to fuck off and they will.”

“No, they’re fun,” Seungmin protests, grinning at Changbin. With the addition of someone new, it all but guarantees that everyone’s attention and focus is going to go straight to them—so Seungmin predicts that Changbin will be fawned over. Overwhelmed, maybe, but in a good way.

When they walk into the bedroom, Seungmin’s arms still locked around Changbin, Changbin’s eyes widen at the expansive bed. It’s not really practical, and really leaves a very small amount of Seungmin’s bedroom free, but it’s necessary if they want seven people (and now eight, if they play their cards right) to sleep in one bed. Occasionally, a few people will go to Felix’s apartment; Chan has slept at his own apartment when he left work too late and a few others have done the same, but everyone is almost always here, at Seungmin’s. Eventually, maybe, they’ll try to get a lease at a larger place and pool their money.

Jisung and Felix have already gotten started, Felix kissing him into the mattress and Jisung holding on for dear life. Hyunjin has snatched Jeongin and Minho—or maybe they’d just fallen on him, because it doesn’t look like he has much control in the matter.

Seungmin is grateful they’re not all trying to swarm him, because he seems wigged out enough as is. “Come on,” he says, tugging Changbin onto a free piece of bed. “I’m not sharing you yet.”

“Not even with me?” Chan pouts.

Seungmin frowns and grips the front of Chan’s shirt, drags him to his lips. Chan goes willingly and he’s gentle as always. He’s cupping Seungmin’s face and smiling into the kiss like a lovestruck idiot, even as Seungmin bites at his lips and slips his tongue into his mouth. He knows exactly how Chan will react once he’s inside—whiny, uncontrolled, pitiful—but the exciting thing is that he doesn’t know how Changbin will react to someone fucking him. He’d been pretty lucid when he’d been in the exam room, but maybe the shock of the situation had done that to him.

Seungmin feels Changbin’s arm tighten on his forearm, and when he pulls away from Chan, his lips slick, Changbin is watching them with blown pupils.

“Did you kiss Seungmin already, baby?” Chan asks, smiling again. Leave it to him to get whipped over someone in the first few minutes.

Changbin nods, then breathes out a, “Yeah.” And before Chan can do anything, Changbin is reaching out for him. He goes willing, curling a hand in Changbin’s hair and tilting his head back to kiss him. It’s soft at first, gentle. Chan is treating Changbin with care, trying to set him at ease.

And then, to be a menace, Seungmin reaches down to grope Chan’s front, to work him up. It takes so little for him to slip and he lets himself go a little, letting his lips slide against Changbin’s wet and messy. There are little moans and whimpers—from both of them, to Seungmin’s pure joy—and they press fully against each other at Seungmin’s gentle coaxing.

And then they’re rubbing and grinding and groping. Chan’s hands come to Changbin’s hips to help guide his grinding, and Changbin grabs a handful of Chan’s ass to guide him, as well.

And then Seungmin registers that everyone is watching them. Minho is rubbing at the front of Jeongin’s sweatpants as they do; Felix is pushing Jisung’s head down onto his cock but pauses to watch the two of them kiss. Jisung surfaces, gagging and sputtering, and wraps needily around Felix at the first chance.

They’re both fully dressed, Chan and Changbin, and Seungmin can’t help but think it’d be more enjoyable to watch with fewer clothes. Chan’s closer, so he takes the liberty of pushing his T-shirt up, until he gets the message and flings it off.

Changbin’s fingers immediately come up to touch and feel, rubbing along his smooth skin, but Seungmin sneaks his fingers up the side of Changbin’s shirt and mumbles, “What if I want to see you, too?”

Changbin wiggles as he tries to help Seungmin in his endeavor of undressing him, and then his and Chan’s bare torsos are squished together temptingly.

Apparently Minho thinks so, for he abandons Jeongin and Hyunjin and crawls over, pulling Chan off by his hair. “You’re being selfish,” Minho says, though he sounds soft, and even dusts a kiss over Chan’s slick lips. “You should learn to share.”

And from there begins the swarming of Changbin. Felix sees Minho kiss Changbin and decides that it isn’t fair and races over to wait his turn.

There are at least four or five people surrounding Changbin, kissing him or mouthing at his skin or plucking his nipples. As Seungmin predicted, he seems overwhelmed, but in a good way. His eyes go blurry and he can’t seem to decide who to put his focus on.

There’s too many people around to be able to tell who gets his pants off first—they’re all in varying states of undress, ranging from shamelessly naked (Felix) to fully clothed, if a little rumpled (Minho). But somebody at last gets Changbin naked, and he squirms under their gaze, looks away.

They’re all at least average-sized, with a few notable outliers. Changbin, though, is well below average, a precious little mouthful, not even enough to truly wrap a fist around. Minho takes control of the situation, dragging Changbin back to his mouth and pressing a thigh between his legs and urging him to grind against him. Minho seems particularly affected by this, but he very politely refrains from teasing Changbin about it. Probably he wants to, and maybe he will later—if Changbin’s okay with it. For now, his self-consciousness is compounding, especially in front of so many new people, and his comfort is the most important thing.

“Who do you want to take, baby?” Minho breathes, urging Changbin to rock against him, flexing his thigh. “Anyone you want, anything.”

“Actually, no,” Seungmin says, inserting himself. “Not quite, because I’ve already decided that I get to prep you.”

Changbin shoots a smile Seungmin’s way, shy but breathtaking. “Yeah, okay, Seungminnie.”

“Okay,” Minho relents, glaring at Seungmin only a little. “Who is Seungminnie prepping you for? Can you take Hyunjinnie, you think?”

Hyunjin looks up at his name—Chan had been needily kissing him into the pillows. Changbin’s eyes drag over, too; Chan has just managed to shimmy down his pants to let their cocks drag together.

His eyes widen seeing Hyunjin’s dick laying half hard on his stomach. It’s a fair reaction, but his shock lasts only a few moments. “If you guys have taken it, I can, too,” he reasons.

The dumbbell was probably wider around, Seungmin thinks, though he knows well enough not to bring that up now. “Exactly,” he says instead, rubbing his thumbs into Changbin’s hipbones. “Roll over, let me prep you.”

They have multiple bottles of lube just for this, and Minho tosses him one as he pulls one out for himself and Jisung—and the double-ended dildo, a crowd favorite. Chan has been displaced from Hyunjin, taken over by Felix and Jeongin, and he comes to Seungmin, runs his hands up his sides. “Can I eat you out?” he begs. “And maybe fuck you after?”

“Yeah, Channie,” he mumbles, reaching back to scratch at his scalp. And then his attention goes back to Changbin, bent down on his elbows with his ass propped in the air. “You’ve had a fist up here before, right, Changbinnie?” he asks, rubbing over his tight entrance with a lube-slick finger.

There’s a shudder that vibrates his body, arches his back. “Just—my own,” he admits quietly.

“You have to show me sometime,” Seungmin says immediately, his fingers clenching into his own thigh. Chan is guiding his hips up, less gentle than he’d normally be—he needs this, needs Seungmin. He guides them up just enough to slide under and let Seungmin’s hips fall back onto his face, twining his arms around Seungmin’s thighs needily. The sensation of him pressing his tongue against Seungmin, lapping at him, and then thrusting it inside, has the potential to be a huge distraction, but Seungmin is going to stay so focused on taking care of Changbin!

Changbin’s hands are balled into fists atop the sheets as Seungmin slides three fingers in and out. He’s trembling just a little, and Seungmin thinks it’s from the anticipation. Still (after jolting from Chan’s tongue smoothing over his hole), he runs a hand up Changbin’s spine and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs back. “Just—get overwhelmed.”

Seungmin hums back, wiggles atop Chan, and surveys his other boyfriends. Minho is already working the enormous dildo into Jisung, telling him to stay still while he preps himself. Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin have managed a position where the three of them can rub their cocks together, Jeongin using both of his hands to keep them together. Felix has a hand tangled in Hyunjin’s hair, bringing their lips together.

“That’s not—a bad thing,” he says, gasping in the middle from the movements of Chan’s tongue. “What’s the biggest you’ve taken?”

Changbin makes some kind of noise—a chuckle that devolves into a moan, maybe, and he rests his forehead on his crossed forearms. “I—you know. What do you think?”

The dumbbell, obviously. He laughs fondly, leans forward to press an indulgent kiss to his ass cheek. When he does, he has to lift off Chan, who valiantly stretches off the bed to follow him.

“Other than that, I meant.”

“Nothing crazy. I just—I got the urge to try it.”

Seungmin presses a fourth finger in and Changbin seems to hold his breath, his fists clenching. “Hey, relax,” he says. “I’ll just let you get used to it a second.”

And he does, holding still and letting Chan pull him further back, burying his tongue as far as it will go. He lets those sensations take him over for a few moments, until Changbin goes wriggly and whiny and presses his hips back for Seungmin to keep going.

“Kn-knuckles are going in,” Seungmin warns him, panting and trying to move away from Chan’s tongue—he needs to focus, dammit! Chan relents, seeming to sense the situation; he returns to meek little licks.

It’s a stretch, but Seungmin keeps gently pushing, and Changbin’s hole eventually swallows him, his four fingers and knuckles. Changbin lets out a low moan, then a whimper, and wiggles his hips. His hole is tight, constricting, but Seungmin is in, at least.

“Can you give me more?” he mumbles, not lifting his face from the mattress. It makes Chan’s fingers curl harder into Seungmin’s thigh, his tongue moving more insistently. There’s a choked little moan from somewhere underneath him.

Seungmin keeps his cool, just barely. “Of course.” He slides his knuckle out, ignoring the little protest Changbin makes, and fits his thumb at his entrance. It’s fine until he gets to the knuckles again, but Changbin seems less lucid this time around, squirming and whining and pressing his hips back. Once his knuckles make it past the ring of muscle, it’s easy enough to slide in to the wrist.

Seungmin swats Chan away, moves away from him, because he’d kind of like to immortalize this moment, clear-headed. Hopefully, it’s an image he’ll be able to see again, his hand entirely buried in Changbin’s hole, but it feels momentous. He wiggles his fingers, starts trying to move in and out, but it’ll take a while for that, he thinks.

Chan comes to wrap around him from behind, still clingy, locking his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. Minho, murmuring to a glassy-eyed Jisung, tells him to look. The pace of Hyunjin’s hips increases as he looks on, to the point that Jeongin removes his hands, just in case.

“He’s being prepped for you,” Felix reminds him, cupping his jaw. “You don’t want to come too fast and ruin it, hm?”

Hyunjin whines and jerks his hips regardless, and Felix abandons him with a little kiss to his lips, crawling over to Changbin instead. He lays his side and cards his fingers through Changbin’s hair and kisses him deeply, luxuriously, not really minding that Changbin doesn’t have the presence of mind to kiss him back properly.

His hole relaxes a little, so that Seungmin is able to better move his hand. He goes gently, still, and Chan unhelpfully ruts against his ass, his cock catching on his slick hole.

It’s mostly quiet except for the quiet slick sound and the occasional pant or whine. Seungmin’s not harsh with it, but makes sure that Changbin’s hole is loose enough for Hyunjin before he eases it out, wiping the mess of lube across the back of Changbin’s thigh.

He’s trembling, shaking, and Seungmin strokes around his fluttering hole. It’s gaping and spasming around the emptiness, and Seungmin hooks his thumbs in to spit in his hole, for good measure.

“You want Hyunjinnie?” Felix asks, sounding adoring. “Come on, up you get.”

Jeongin has manhandled an already exhausted Hyunjin against the headboard, and now Felix helps Changbin in that direction, as well.

“Changbinnie,” Hyunjin whines, stretching out for him.

“Shh, hyung, be good and stay still,” Jeongin murmurs.

“Go slow, take your time,” Felix says cheerfully, rubbing along Changbin’s muscular arms.

“Seungminnie,” Chan whines in his ear, urgent. The rocking against his hips has picked up, and it seems that Chan is about at his limit.

“Go ahead,” Seungmin breathes, passing him the lube. “Don’t have to stretch me if you go slow.”

Minho drags Jisung to the front of Hyunjin and Changbin who, with the help of everyone else, is lowering himself onto Hyunjin’s cock, his back to Hyunjin’s chest.

Chan has already started fucking Seungmin by the time Changbin settles fully. He’s urged to lean back against him, Hyunjin’s eyes fluttering shut and grinding forward into his stuffed hole. His hand splays across Changbin’s muscular stomach—he has more padding than Seungmin or Jisung or even Minho, but there’s still the faintest outline of the bulge poking through his stomach.

Chan is rocking into Seungmin slow and deep, wrapped around him from behind as fully as he can manage. Seungmin hasn’t really let himself give in all the way to his pleasure yet, wanting to take care of Changbin, but with him fully settled on Hyunjin’s cock and appearing to be fine, he allows himself to drift in the little jolts that Chan’s thick cock sends through him.

Hyunjin is losing it, whining and burying his face in the crook of Changbin’s neck. “So tight…” he mumbles, almost delirious as he grinds upwards.

Changbin seems dazed and lost, probably clenching like crazy onto Hyunjin and wiggling in his lap.

And then Minho fully settles Jisung in front of him, the large dildo still hanging out of him, and Changbin’s glazed eyes drag down towards him.

“Can Jisungie suck your cock?” Minho asks point-blank. “He chokes on all of ours.” He’s already grabbed the other end of the dildo, working it into his own slick hole as he asks. Jisung is only his stomach, his face pressed into the mattress and his hips bucking backwards, and Minho is on his back behind him, propped on an elbow and hooking his legs around Jisung’s.

The statement is exactly Minho—toeing the line of humiliation but maybe excusably not. He’s testing the waters, maybe, seeing how Changbin reacts to such a statement.

Gone as he is, he nods immediately. “Y-yeah,” he assents, stammering as Hyunjin moves his hips under him.

“Go ahead, Sung,” Minho says, sitting up to stroke at whatever part of him he can reach—his ass, in this case, stretched obscenely around the dildo.

Seungmin can’t see Jisung’s mouth from his vantage point, but he’d seen Changbin’s cock. No way it fills Jisung’s mouth, prods at the back of his throat like even Seungmin’s or Felix’s does. No, probably it’s just a little nub that he can suck on to soothe himself from the sensation of the dildo. Maybe he can swirl his tongue around it. The thought of it (and of Changbin maybe squirming beneath him) makes Seungmin feel insane.

Once Minho ascertains that Jisung is okay, he flops backwards to work the dildo the rest of the way into himself. He’s right underneath Seungmin and seems finally ready to let himself go. He stretches for Seungmin, working his hips down and working the dildo in and out of his own hole as well as Jisung’s. His fingers clutch at Seungmin’s hair, dragging him down to his level—to his lips.

Neither one of them are really able to kiss well, gone as they are, but there’s something nice about just needing together, about experiencing pleasure in tandem with someone else. They’ve formed something of a line, from Hyunjin and Changbin down to Chan at the end—but Jeongin and Felix break this line, off in their own little world. Felix is straddling Jeongin’s lap and grinding down onto him, gripping his hair tight enough it’s a wonder he doesn’t pull a fistful of it out.

It’s a shame—Seungmin is mostly only able to focus on himself, and maybe Minho and Chan. But, hopefully, he’ll have plenty of chances later to watch Jisung suck Changbin’s cock, to see Felix tease Jeongin, to see Hyunjin lose it with Changbin clenched around his cock.

Still, he registers when Changbin comes. There’s a groan and he’s quickly pulling Jisung off his cock, letting him rest his cheek on the inside of his thigh instead. And then he slumps back against Hyunjin, who seems to be close, as well.

Seungmin clutches Minho and lets him sloppily lick at his teeth as he focuses on the pounding sensation in his hole. Chan has bent over his spine to press their skin together, clutching needily at his hips. He’s desperate enough that he reaches down to wrap his fist around Seungmin’s cock—it means that he’s close, but he doesn’t want to leave Seungmin hanging. Ordinarily, he’d swat his hand away, wanting to come from the being full and nothing else, but he allows it for now, blinking back overwhelmed tears.

Chan still finishes first, burying his face between Seungmin’s shoulders as he rides it out, fills him up.

He keeps his hand moving, though, and so when Seungmin comes—it’s Chan’s fault. It’s definitely Chan’s fault.

Minho is still underneath Seungmin, and when he comes, it sprays all over Minho—his face, his hair, there are even globs stuck in his eyelashes. “You fucking—” he threatens, but it comes out in a breathless whisper, because he’s close despite it all.

Seungmin does the safe thing and retreats to the safety of Chan’s arms, where he can be defended from Minho, at least.

“Oops,” Chan notes, wrapping his arms tight around Seungmin.

Taking stock of everything around him once his lucidity returns, it seems Jisung has shakily removed himself from the dildo, crawling up on top of Changbin and Hyunjin. Jeongin and Felix have finished, too, kissing each other into the mattress.

Minho finishes up his own chest, eyes screwed shut out of necessity, and Seungmin burrows closer to Chan, fearing what Minho will do when he comes back to himself. Someone had had the foresight to dump towels on the floor for clean-up purposes and he directs Chan to grab one and throw it at Minho.

He wipes the worst of it from his face, though his hair is a bit of a lost cause. “Kim Seungmin,” he threatens, propping himself up on one hand and pointing the other threateningly at his face.

“Uh… you have a bit…” he says, gesturing at his own hair to indicate the mess in Minho’s.

“Great, you can help me wash it out in the shower,” he says grimly.

Not a fucking chance Seungmin is getting in the shower. He’s going to sprawl on top of Changbin again and probably pass out. He’s not even messy—all his own release had sprayed over Minho, and Chan’s come is deep enough in his hole that it’s not dripping out anytime soon.

“I’ll go, Min,” Jisung offers already, whether for Minho’s benefit or Seungmin’s—maybe both, knowing him.

Jisung grabs him before he can protest; Jeongin and Felix traipse behind, holding hands and giggling, also both splattered with come.

And, free from any retaliation from Minho, Seungmin crawls forward. Both Hyunjin and Changbin are spent. Changbin is still in his lap, encircled by his arms. He offers a kiss to Hyunjin, then Changbin, and gently grips his arms to guide him off of Hyunjin’s lap.

“C’mon, you’ll hurt yourself staying on him,” Seungmin says gently—he’s being selfless. It’s not because he kind of wants Changbin to lay on top of him.

His hole dribbles come and he shudders, but he allows Seungmin to guide him without any real protest. While Seungmin tends to Changbin, Chan takes Hyunjin, wiping him down quickly and then dragging him down against his chest.

“Changbinnie,” Hyunjin murmurs, stretching his fingertips across the bed for him. Seungmin readjusts Changbin as best he can, and their fingers intertwine.

“‘m here,” he mumbles, though he sounds half-asleep against Seungmin’s skin. He can’t see from this vantage point but his hole has to be gaping, wide open—everyone is, after taking Hyunjin.

“Did you like it?” Seungmin asks, stroking his skin.

“Yeah, I—” he starts, then hesitates. “We could do it again sometime. If you want.”

Across the bed, Chan lets out a chuckle. “I’m pretty sure no one would have any problems with that, Bin,” he says.

They doze; Seungmin thinks Chan and Hyunjin are fully asleep by the time the other four shuffle back in. Minho’s hair is roughly towel-dried, and he slides in behind Seungmin automatically. His fingers come to his nipple and twist roughly, making him cry out—there’s the retaliation, at last.

“It was Channie’s fault,” he whines defensively.

“It was your come,” Minho returns. Changbin is dozing on Seungmin’s shoulder, sprawled diagonally across him, and Minho presses an indulgent kiss to his nose, his cheeks, his pouted lips. It’s the kind of softness he typically only bothers showing Felix and occasionally Jeongin, and it makes Changbin stir. “Go back to sleep,” he tells him gently, his tone a complete 180 from how he’d talked to Seungmin.

“Hey, Changbinnie,” Felix says from his other side, plastering across his back and squashing Seungmin more. “Can I fuck you next time? Please?”

“Hm?” he hums. “Yeah—sure.”

“Let him sleep, Lix,” Jeongin scolds, swatting at him. He’s squashed in Jisung’s arms, who already looks near sleep.

“I am now,” Felix says defensively, and rolls off Changbin in a huff.

There’s probably more to hammer out, to discuss, but not now, when everyone’s drifting to sleep and stuck in an afterglow. The promise of more, next time, later is enough for tonight, and Seungmin finds himself falling to sleep with Changbin’s weight atop him and Minho holding him gently, despite everything.

After working such a long shift, Seungmin doesn’t really want to do anything other than collapse in bed and sleep. Unfortunately, they’re in the process of moving, so he has to go home and listen to Minho tell him he’s wrapping bubble wrap around their glassware incorrectly.

WIth the eight of them, it’s not very hard to pack everything up, but there’s still a lot to do. Seungmin’s lease is up, and they’re moving somewhere further out of the city—but where there’s a bit more space for all of them. Chan will keep his apartment in the city, as will Felix for now, but their homebase will be the new place they’re moving.

He trudges in—late, because he hadn’t been able to leave his shift on time—and everybody else is already home. Most of their belongings are in boxes. People have been packing up their own apartments as their leases run up, although there are still a few people who haven’t had to do that just yet.

Everyone is suspiciously gathered around Jisung, amidst the boxed-up living room, and Seungmin automatically narrows his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“Just give it to him,” Hyunjin says impatiently, jutting his head towards Seungmin. “We’re moving at the end of the week, it doesn’t have to be on your one-year.”

Oh, god. Does Jisung know when their one-year anniversary was? Seungmin finds he has no idea—nevermind about any of the rest of them. Shouldn’t they just pick one anniversary to celebrate? Whenever Changbin had joined them maybe?

But, yeah, it should be about a year, now. He’s breaking lease a little early, and he’d just renewed his last one before Jisung had happened…

Fuck, he should buy a card or something.

Hastily, he insists, “No, no, you didn’t—are we doing anniversaries? Like, for everyone?”

“Jisungie just got you something small,” Chan insists. “Kind of ruins the surprise of the rest of ours, but…”

Seungmin sighs, deeply, heavily. He always feels like he’s one step behind in this stuff. He has seven fucking boyfriends, and he hadn’t known he was dating most of them until after the fact. How is he supposed to keep track of fucking anniversaries…?

Felix helpfully shoves Jisung towards Seungmin; he’s clutching a frame in his hands. It’s not from Seungmin’s walls—those are all taken down and stacked against the walls already, but he doesn’t recognize the frame.

“It’s stupid, but just—here,” Jisung says, thrusting it at him.

He raises an eyebrow at Jisung and flips the frame over.

Wait, he recognizes this. He stares at it closer, and then promptly bursts into laughter. “You framed—your fucking—discharge paperwork?” he howls, grinning stupidly and looking down at the familiar piece of paper. Sure enough, it’s listed with his basic information: Han Jisung, male, 09/14/2000, along with his primary complaint—foreign body lodged in rectum. Resolution: pt was given sedative and the foreign body was effectively removed. no further complications. And Seungmin’s digital signature brandishes the bottom of the page.

“Wall decor,” Jeongin says. “We, uh—kind of thought it’d be funny. All of us.”

Seungmin is still laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. “So you—am I getting all of your framed discharge paperwork?”

“Except Lix’s,” Changbin says. “Since he doesn’t have any.”

He looks dejected about it. “I should have gone to the ER while you were working,” he mutters despondently.

“We’ll just hang a framed photo of his cock,” Minho teases, and Felix actually perks up at the idea.

“We should!” Jisung agrees. “I mean—we’re all hanging embarrassing shit up! Seungmin and Felix need something, too.”

“We can work something out,” Seungmin says, though he has no intention of hanging a photo of any part of his body on the wall. He wraps his arms around Jisung, gives him a kiss that’s too tender for the implied depravity that’s written on the discharge paperwork.

And that’s that: they’ll find a spot in their new place to hang everyone’s up, preferably somewhere kind of private where guests don’t have to read about Hyunjin having his cock stuck in a Pringles can or Minho’s bruised taint.

It is really stupid, the way that Seungmin had amassed all of his boyfriends, but they’re all a little stupid, and they need the guidance of a medical professional to keep them from injuring themselves. It’s not like Seungmin doesn’t get anything out of it, either.