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“Hewwo! I will be youw suwgeon today!” Minhyuk says in a nauseatingly squeaky voice. He locks the door behind him and smiles like he’s just eaten a cat. He is a dog person, actually, all of them are, but sometimes Minhyuk likes to unironically pspsps at Changkyun and hold various objects and snacks over his head with even more nauseatingly squeaky ‘kitty, kitty, kitty!’ coming out of his filthy mouth.
Changkyun rolls his eyes. “Stop it,” he says in a stern manner. Hyungwon does nothing but raise one eyebrow into the folds on his forehead. In the same lax manner he puts it back in place and looks back down at his notes. He’s got shit scribbled in tiny messy handwriting, letters looking like numbers in equations, and numbers in equations looking like exorcist spells straight from the Bible.
Changkyun wouldn’t mind if they were. He desperately needs to use one on Minhyuk right this very second.
“What’s the mattew wiv you today?” Minhyuk continues, the same sunny shit-eating grin still plastered on his face, and takes the stethoscope wrapped around his neck.
Minhyuk is not a doctor. Sure, a failed medical student in the past, but that doesn’t give him the right to carry doctory things around the research institute. He is a biochemist working in the field of Making-And-Injecting-Various-Species-With-Newly-Invented-Drugs-And-Shit, and his job description includes mixing questionable substances from space in a way that doesn’t cause them to explode, and occasionally giggling at funky little bacterias on a Petri dish in the microscope, if those are present.
So, no, he does not, under any circumstances, need a fucking stethoscope in Hyungwon’s office.
“Stop it, Minhyuk, you sound dumb,” Changkyun scolds him again, and scolds him seriously, because he is not about to be spoken to like a lifeless gummy rat in his other boyfriend’s office.
Minhyuk scrunches his nose in mock endearment. “Aww, youw a squeawy one, awen’t you?” He approaches the brown desk occupied by a very busy Hyungwon in a chair and not-so-busy Changkyun on the table, and stands between his legs. Changkyun usually likes him between him legs – when they fuck, for example, or when they fuck, and when they fuck, and maybe even when they fuck, but under no excuse should this fading sweaty blushing imagery lay on top of the revolting reality, that is, Minhyuk babytalking.
There is also absolutely no reason for Changkyun to react to Minhyuk standing between his legs with a light tug in his belly. He is just standing. Between his legs. Like when they fuck. Which is not what they are doing now because Minhyuk inserts the earpieces with a clown-like surprise on his face and extends the chestpiece towards Changkyun. He presses it to his chest, like the name of the apparatus suggests.
Deadpan, Changkyun just stares at him. Minhyuk is very cleanly shaved today, which isn’t really hard for him to do because he’s practically got no hair, even on his scalp (but that’s just Changkyun being mean because he finds himself to be affected by the presence of someone else’s hips between his legs), but he can still appreciate the consideration.
When two seconds later Minhyuk shifts the stethoscope to his other pec, Changkyun inhales sharply.
“Hyungwon, make him stop,” he turns to the other man, trying to keep his voice as hard as possible, without a treacherous note of plea.
Hyungwon, that bastard, only raises his big beautiful eyes at Changkyun and blinks. “Is that iwwitating doctow bovewing you?” he pouts and takes one of Changkyun’s hands in his.
Not you too, not you too, he wails on the inside.
On the outside, he groans. “God fucking damn it,” he makes a move to jump off the desk, but Minhyuk shushes him and puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Stay put, I’m listening,” he says in his normal voice and frowns theatrically.
“Wow, a heartbeat, how fascinating, you’ve never heard one before or what?” Changkyun snaps, but by the cooing pout on Hyungwon’s face, he assumes it wasn’t snappy enough.
“What the diagnothis, doctow?” Hyungwon continues mocking in a creaky voice. Changkyun rolls his eyes so hard he sees the front of his brains.
Minhyuk’s face elongates, (pretty) eyes wide, lips pouty. A clown is what he is. “Can’t be!” He squeaks. “Nuwse, I fink…” Hyungwon bounces on his chair, neck craning towards the other man. His eyes are twinkling with theatrical excitement, like in some Legally Blonde musical. “I fink it’s,” then Minhyuk’s eyes narrow, and a sneaky mellow smile stretches his lips like butterscotch, “he’s got increased paranormal activity in his mesolimbic dopamine pathway, causing his myocardium and reproductive system to stir a little.”
Hyungwon gasps, bringing one hand to his mouth. “Doctor, this is unbelievable! What are the risks of tachycardia?”
Changkyun shifts uncomfortably. The cold from the metallic end of the stethoscope seeps through his shirt, stinging his chest. When Minhyuk leans in closer, moving the bell to another spot, Changkyun’s palms grow clammy at the proximity and fright of what the man can hear through his stupid equipment.
“Nurse…” Minhyuk exhales, airy notes of incredulity lacing his throat. Hyungwon nods fervently, eyes glassy, like he is starving to hear the pseudo-medical conclusion from the doctor. Fuck, Changkyun thinks, he nearly got caught in the fucking roleplay. “His sexuerotic needs have been stimulated,” he concludes and finally detaches the fucking stethoscope from Changkyun’s chest.
Changkyun scoffs. “What the fuck does that even mean?” He has a vague idea of what ‘sexuerotic needs’ means, it’s really fucking obvious if you’re not a chicken and have at least a bit of common sense, but he doesn’t want his boyfriends’ revoltingly smug faces to turn even more smug upon hearing him say the sacred word.
Hyungwon and Minhyuk exchange dramatically desperate glances, as if they were about to give Changkyun a deadly diagnosis. “Changkyun…” Hyungwon’s hand lets go of his palm and moves to rest on his thigh, dangerously, very dangerously close to his groin. Oh, no, you didn’t. “You...”
“Got...” Minhyuk latches.
“The horny,” Hyungwon whispers.
Deadpan, Changkyun stares. Stares for another few seconds. Minhyuk and Hyungwon stare back at him, glassy eyes and worms for brains.
“Right, I’m leaving,” he makes a move to jump off the table (again), but Minhyuk’s huge hand on his chest stops him (again), and Hyungwon’s fingers on his thigh dig into the fabric of his pants (for the first time for now). (‘For now’? Really, Changkyun?)
“You cannot leave, Mr Im, you are on quarantine until further notice,” Minhyuk states, serious.
Hyungwon frowns, like he is disappointed with Changkyun’s actions. “You don’t want to end up like my friends, do you?” His arched eyebrow quirks.
His friends are mummified mammals and bugs that have died from their unsuccessful experiments (sometimes humans, but shh). Hyungwon works in the morgue that isn’t technically a morgue because it’s a lab and stores a bunch of diseases and body parts, and all he does is investigate causes of death with a dumbly serious face and experiment further.
He is not a fucking nurse. A doctorate up his sleeve, sure, but not a nurse. He is an ex-forensic specialist who got fired from the police dep for mingling with the law, and is now a loser pathologist in the research lab. Kihyun does the alive, Hyungwon does the dead, and all they do is sit in the basement and pretend like their microscopic scans of actinic keratosis or whatever will help them solve the case of a boohoo-ed virus Minhyuk created in the lab above.
Useless, is what they both are.
And Changkyun really hates how disgustingly hot they both look in white lab coats.
“I came here to fuck.” That’s true. They always do it during their breaks or when the other two avoid doing work. He comes to one of their offices to fuck and then goes about his own extremely clever and crucially important engineering business afterwards. He doesn’t come here to get attacked with old Tumblr memes and get eaten by hungry vultures otherwise known as his boyfriends.
Minhyuk backs off. Backs off only to grab a pack of disposable gloves from the window sill behind him and take out a pair. Something slimy slides along Changkyun’s intestines. Minhyuk’s gaze is hard as he starts pulling white tight latex over one hand. “Shouldn’t you be examined first, Mr Im?”
The glove slaps around his wrist. The sharp sound cuts the first incision in Changkyun’s belly. He swallows.
“Penis, urethra, scrotum,” Hyungwon starts listing and stands up, immediately towering over Changkyun. He reaches for the pack too, takes out a glove and starts shoving one frail hand into it. This hand is no longer frail. “Testis, epididymis, vas deferens, seminal vesicle, ejaculatory duct, bulbourethral gland,” he wiggles his fingers as he pulls the latex to his wrist, “prostate,” he adds after a pause.
These words make him want to slash his dick in half and watch it get observed on a surgical table.
What the fuck, Changkyun?
“Aw, his widdle fwiend agwees!” Minhyuk suddenly squeals, another sunny grin stretching his lips. He bends towards Changkyun and gazes at his crotch.
“Please don’t babytalk to my dick,” Changkyun cuts. In juxtaposition to his words, his dick agrees and twitches.
“My, my, Dr Lee, I believe the patient has developed idiopathic craniofacial erythema, look at his face,” Hyungwon says. “Blushing so hard for no reason? You immediately need to get checked.”
Changkyun is about to start shaking. Oh, the humiliation of it all. With another eyebrow raise from Hyungwon, heat rushes to his face with double intensity, and when there is nothing left to heat up, it precipitates back down to his stomach. He is a fucking Bunsen burner, and the two men are his gas source.
“Cat got your tongue, Mr Im?” Hyungwon asks, amused. Changkyun’s face grows hard (harder than his boner), lasers shoot out from his eyes, his lips quiver with an unreleased growl.
“Shh, kitty, kitty,” Minhyuk croaks out, high-pitched, and coos. He comes to stand between Changkyun’s legs, humiliating endearment sizzling in his irises.
Well, fuck, he is so frustrated with himself. His dick is about to cut through the zipper.
“Have you brushed your teeth today?” Minhyuk asks and raises his chin, looking down at Changkyun from above and even abover than before. Hyungwon comes to stand next to him. He is the abovest in the height ladder.
“Obviously,” Changkyun grumbles.
“Open up,” Minhyuk commands, and Changkyun complies – what the fuck, Changkyun, shut your mouth!
Minhyuk’s bare hand grips his chin. Two gloved fingers push into his mouth cavity, lay on his tongue, and Changkyun nearly gags at the sudden intrusion. He tastes latex. He smells latex. Something balls in the depth of his throat.
“Mm, good, good,” Minhyuk mutters and studies him. Hyungwon’s gloved hand tugs his top lip up, revealing his sparkly pink gums. His second hand – Changkyun has no clue when he managed to pull a glove on it too – traces the corners of his mouth.
And then it slides along the top row of his teeth, his pretty (he knows his teeth are pretty) central incisors and down to his molars. His pointer finger pricks against his sharp canine.
“Gorgeous teefies you’ve got there, Mr Im,” Minhyuk coos and presses harder on his tongue. Changkyun gags with the softest, faintest ‘eh’.
Hyungwon lays his fingers on top of Minhyuk’s and lets go of his lip, forcing Changkyun to wrap around the digits in his mouth. Another gag clumps in his throat, but he stays still, watches the two men observe him.
He could bite their filthy, sexy hands off. He could watch them writhe in pain and spray-bleed onto the immaculate white office walls, he could cackle at their peasantry screams as they scutter around the room in panic, and he could definitely keep their useless cut off limbs as prized possession in memory of the day that Im Changkyun officially won. He could, but he won’t, because latex isn’t good for his stomach.
Instinctively, he starts sucking, softly, barely moving, only tightening his lips around the fingers and coating them in saliva. That’s four extremely long worms in his mouth, it’s getting hard to breathe, his jaws start to ache, and when he lightly gags again, Minhyuk hums.
“What do you reckon, Dr Chae?”
Hyungwon hums thoughtfully, and both of their hands push just a little bit further. Changkyun’s top lip touches someone’s knuckles, his throat contracts. “Excellent sucking functions,” Hyungwon concludes.
A whine that’s been harbouring in his stomach, finally escapes. Changkyun blinks out dews of tears.
The two men retract their fingers with cooing pouts, and when Changkyun’s mouth is finally free, all he tastes is latex, his taste buds swim in latex, his saliva is poisoned with latex, and he wants more of it.
Hyungwon’s and Minhyuk’s fingers are wet, glistening with spit, identically long and knuckly and, aaaaaaaaaaa.
Changkyun wants more.
His boyfriends wipe their hands on his lab coat. On Changkyun’s lab coat.
“Get undressed, Mr Im,” Minhyuk commands, and Changkyun starts trembling again. Frustrated, he jumps off the table, takes off his coat, balls it into one messy cloth and tosses it on the floor. Hyungwon raises his eyebrows. (Fuck off, Hyungwon).
Changkyun just barely resists a hmph and starts working on his belt, undoes the zipper – he almost hurts his boner – shoves the pants off his legs with his underwear and stands there, staring at the two men with some sort of challenge.
“The shirt too,” Hyungwon says. Changkyun pulls it over his head with the same frustration, and suddenly, he is naked in the middle of the white office room, pure daylight seeping inside though the white vertical blinds, his tanned exposed body the only splash of colour among the medical masses.
He bends down to help himself get rid of his shoes and step out of his clothes, remaining only in his Venom socks. He is still frustrated. Very.
He is frustrated because Hyungwon and Minhyuk are still standing there, fully clothed in white lab coats, glasses slipping off Hyungwon’s nose, tie tight around Minhyuk’s collar, and doing nothing, while Changkyun is threatening to eat his tongue. His tongue is threatening to eat itself.
Minhyuk steps forward, Changkyun takes a step back. His hips bump into the desk behind him. Minhyuk stands very close, towering over him in his dumb Oxford shoes, and Changkyun has to raise his head, and keep his eyes still, and his mouth still too. Minhyuk is blinking unevenly at him, but Changkyun doesn’t have time to snort when the other man grabs his dick by the base and holds it tight. In his latex-clad hand.
Changkyun inhales sharply, barely resists a gasp. He really liked those extensive dramatic medical shows back in the days, House M.D., Grey’s Anatomy, ER, and it might have developed into a fever daydream of some sort, like when he went to the doctor’s and felt strange churning in his gut at the smell of sanitary wipes and rubbing alcohol and disinfectants, like he wanted that shit to burn his skin off his fucking bones. So what! A weird little kink. He liked a little role-play and sex-filled crash courses on medical thingies (occasionally), but it wasn’t his fault he was good for nothing when it actually came to stuff like natural sciences.
He should’ve dated someone who found shit like mechatronics, computational fluid dynamics and electroencephalograms sexy.
Changkyun isn’t stupid. Changkyun can dirty-talk using maths and physics lingo. That is, unless he’s got a fucking hand around his pulsing dick.
Minhyuk tsks repeatedly and sighs. “Mr Im, I only wanted to take a look,” he says, and then his bare hand reaches for the buttons on his shirt. He undoes them slowly, but only undoes them, without pulling the sides apart. His grip on Changkyun’s dick is stable, latex ghostly white in contrast to his humiliatingly reddened skin.
Hyungwon, that bastard, only stands by Minhyuk’s side and studies Changkyun’s little friend like he sees it for the first time. Come on, he wants to wail, not a day goes by without either of you at the very least seeing my dick, but he can’t, because if he opens his mouth, all that will come out is an embarrassing plea for gummy worms between his teeth.
Fingers. He means fingers.
But if he doesn’t think about the word fingers, then he won’t physically want them as much, and Hyungwon’s hands just so happened to taste like marmalade for the most part. (Although that might be just a mix of flavoured lubes they have at home that won’t come off now matter how many times a day he washes his hands.)
As if in tune to his thoughts, Hyungwon raises one latex hand in front of his face and wiggles his fingers like some kind of villain who is about to press a big red button that clearly says DO NOT PRESS, but because Hyungwon is illiterate, he will press it anyways.
Or squeeze, in this given situation. He clutches Changkyun’s balls.
“Fuck!” Changkyun exclaims and immediately tries to seal his mouth shut, fitting his top row of teeth behind his bottom one, hoping it will make him look tough.
And, yeah, the big red button was a metaphor for his dick.
Hyungwon’s thumb brushes over tender wrinkled skin with a hum. “Cute,” he says pensively. Well, good thing Changkyun groomed well last night, if that’s the only thing he will get compliments on today. He kind of likes the way his boyfriend’s massive hands cover him almost completely, excluding the peeking red tip of his cock.
While Changkyun was musing about gummy worms and his painful erection, Minhyuk had already untied his tie, and was now single-handedly pulling his belt out of the loops. His bulge shamelessly stretches his mousy brown trousers, and Changkyun’s tongue quickly licks over his lips.
“Thought you were only observing, Minhyuk?” he asks but ends up panting out the question, the grip on his dick sucking out not only blood but also air out of his system.
Hyungwon carefully (how considerate of him) squeezes his balls. “It’s Dr Lee for you, Mr Im,” he says, raising his eyebrows.
Fi––
Fi-i-i-i––
Changkyun grunts.
Then suddenly, both of them let go of his organ, and Minhyuk grabs him by the hip and spins him around. Changkyun’s thighs dig into the desk, his dick hovers dangerously close over the wooden surface, and there is a slippery skinless hand on his left butt cheek.
“I’ll do it,” Minhyuk says, clearly referring to Hyungwon, and then Changkyun hears steps beside him. Hyungwon comes into his vision and stands across the table (it’s not a very wide table, they could easily reach each other, but Changkyun is kind of glued to the floor by a hand on his bum, and Hyungwon is not entertaining the idea of leaning in just a tad bit closer).
“Are you clean, Mr Im?” Minhyuk asks, and in tune to his words, a faint note of demand flashes in Hyungwon’s eyes. His hands are crossed in front of his chest, long white fingers tapping his long white forearms, and Changkyun can’t wait to find out if they respect him enough to change their gloves before touching him.
Fin––
Fing-g-g-g––
Despite the horrendous frustration, Changkyun just scoffs. “Obviously.”
Then Minhyuk unceremoniously pulls one of Hyungwon’s drawers open and takes out lubes and condoms. Changkyun may not see what’s going on – his eyes are glued to Hyungwon’s slightly crumpled shirt collar and the shy dip between his clavicles – but he knows what Minhyuk is doing because they are in the office room, and if they are in the office room, they don’t want to clean cum off every bloody surface in it.
Okay, maybe using ‘bloody’ was not a very good choice, but Changkyun is naked and a little cold and the inside of his bottom lip is about to bleed. Frustration.
He hears another glove being pulled out of the pack, he hears the latex slapping around Minhyuk’s wrist, he hears the bottle of lube popping open, he hears Minhyuk squeezing a little on his hand and rubbing it between his surgical fingers. Changkyun clenches in anticipation; he loves getting fingered, he loves the precision with which his boyfriends fuck into him, he loves the thin wiggly feeling inside him, like a tentacle losing its way in his rect––
Jesus fucking Christ, Changkyun. Way to kill a boner.
The first cold finger prods his entrance, the hand on his cheek spreads it just a little further, and Changkyun flinches forward, the sensation over the sensitive ring of muscles spreading bugs all over his nerves. He is about to be spread open real good, worked slick and red, perfect for his boyfriend’s perfect cocks, bent over the desk and fucked into oblivion, delirium and madness all at the same time.
Minhyuk’s thin fingertip pushes through without any resistance (granted, he already familiarised himself with oblivion, delirium and madness last night), but when it reaches the second phalange, where his fingers grow wider and curvier, Changkyun tenses. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, scratch it from the chin up, leaving white and pink lines like a rake, and then Minhyuk presses on his prostate. Straight on.
The hoarse moan Changkyun lets out is definitely not what Jesus died for on the cross two millennia ago.
There is something wickedly arousing about the realisation that Hyungwon and Minhyuk know him inside out, and not just metaphorically. He is pretty sure Changkyun could point on any patch of skin on his body, and Hyungwon would name exactly what organs and tissues hide underneath it with no hesitation. More than that, he will list all their functions with surgical precision, describe what they look like in full unnecessary details and probably compare them to some funky analogous anomaly a rat has.
Sometimes Changkyun wants to be cut open on a surgical table and fiddled with like a lifeless scientific experiment, but in a weird way (Is there even a non-weird way to explain this? his rotten brain supplies). He wants his insides coddled in his boyfriends’ hands, he wants his nerve system set aflame, and he definitely wants his dissected body parts exhibited in a science museum and admired with all his beauty.
This should not turn him on as much as it did, and yet it does, and Changkyun grunts in anticipation of another hit against the gland.
Except it doesn’t come. Minhyuk’s finger stills, and Hyungwon’s expression remains calm with just a slight note of judgement in his eyes.
“Your prostate is just fine, Mr Im,” Minhyuk says, and Changkyun’s blood boils.
He turns his head to the side in hopes of glaring at the other man with all his burning fury. “Were you really trying to examine me––”
He is cut off by a hand on his jaw forcing him to face forward again. Hyungwon’s face comes into his sight. “Stay still while Dr Lee is working,” he says, soft although stern, and the latex rubbing his chin is soft and cool and chewy.
Fingers, fingers, fingers, fingers, fingers, fingers, fingers––
Changkyun whines.
“Oh?” Minhyuk says, somewhat cheerful. His finger starts moving slowly again, only pushing against his walls and purposefully avoiding the pleasure gland like a plague.
Hyungwon raises his chin. That’s his observant stare. And with his duck-like lips and swollen lids behind fuckton-minus glasses and round-round nostrils he really shouldn’t look as hot as he does, but Changkyun can see rare bumps of stubble on his chin and a delicate wrinkle on his forehead, and he kind of whines again.
Kind of, because what comes out is a porridge of syllables that, if you focus hard enough, will at some point in time form the sacred word ‘fingers’.
“What does the patient want?” Minhyuk asks. Oh, he knows what he wants, he knows exactly what he wants because he fits his second finger in, but he is a hungry vulture that wants to eat Changkyun apart until he is nothing but a gooey mass of kinks.
He is about to swallow his motherfucking tongue.
“What’s bovvewing you, Mistew Im?” Minhyuk speak-whispers into his air, his voice clawing at Changkyun’s brain but his breath hot against the shell of his ear.
Changkyun looks at Hyungwon with hard eyes that are only hard because they are on the verge of pleading.
“Fingers,” he exhales, and when Minhyuk’s digits fit inside him to the knuckle, he holds back another whine.
Hyungwon smiles.
Dear Santa, thank you for letting me stay a slut as I am now. I’m not sure if it was your present, or God’s blessing, but I have two boyfriends that love me a lot and whom I love back just as much, if not more. For my next Christmas present, could you please make at least one of them a little uglier so I stop getting boners every time they breathe? Forever yours, Kyunnie.
Then Hyungwon pinches his bottom lip with his thumb and pointer fingers and tugs it down. He clicks his tongue softly. “Bitten to blood,” he says, almost a little disappointed.
Well, yeah, the inside of Changkyun’s mouth is all rough skin and meaty patches and bloody aftertaste, but it’s not his fault Sigmund Freud looked at him when he was a baby and deemed him psychosexually underdeveloped because he couldn’t separate from his milk bottle until his senior year in kindergarten.
It’s not his fault that when Hyungwon shoves two fingers into his mouth, Changkyun immediately swells with overwhelming gratitude. Finally. At last. Hallelujah. Thank you God. Thank you Santa.
He moans around the digits in his mouth, moans when the third finger breaches his rim, moans as he gets stimulated from both sides. When they had sex for the first time about a couple of years ago, Changkyun got spit-roasted, fucked by Minhyuk from behind, fucked by Hyungwon from the front. The next day they switched. The next-next day he can’t remember because he lost count, and for someone with two dissertations in physics-maths-whatever, losing count is not a usual occurrence. If they have been dating for an approximate of two years, that rounds to about seven hundred days, that comprises at least six hundred fifty days and nights of sex (they need rare days away from each other seeing as two of them are introverts), considering the range of two to six orgasms a session, that makes an average of three orgasms a day, that equates to one thousand nine hundred fifty (1,950) orgasms over the course of their three-way dating (more for the other two), if a man produces an average of 1.25 to 5.00 ml of semen per orgasm (Hyungwon counted the exact amount for each of them, and Changkyun just so steps over the 4.00 boundary), this means that since the start of their relationship, Changkyun has spent at least seven thousand eight hundred (7,800) milliletres of sperm on getting dicked down in whichever way it might be, then, in conclusion, ideally, Changkyun should be much better at lasting longer after such a ride, and yet here he is, almost ready to give out without erogenous stimulation.
Unless his tongue is considered one big erogenous zone.
“You’re incredibly needy, Mr Im,” Hyungwon says. The latex is bitter, Changkyun can probably taste the remnants of his own spit on his fingers, and this makes him bring his hands to Hyungwon’s wrist and clutch it for the life of him, keep it still so his hand won’t leave Changkyun’s mouth. He is leaking on the desk, the head of his cock red and glistening.
He practically plants himself onto the digits, sucks them good and diligent, even when his stomach jumps just ever so slightly when they touch the back of his throat, even as Minhyuk carelessly stretches his hole without really stimulating him. Or, well, it seems careless, but by the way Minhyuk breathing in his ear grows strained with every wet gulp of his ass, Changkyun knows what’s up. Are they planning on penetrating him both at the same time?
In the middle of their working shift?
On Hyungwon’s fucking office desk?
Without the pre-arranged use of Changkyun’s favourite King Cock Mega-Chubby Realistic Dildo with Ten Inch Girth that not even Minhyuk’s Mega-Gigantic Realistic hand can wrap around? No way in hell is he taking both of their own king cocks without The King Cock that has a tendency of making him cry every once in a while. It’s pretty fun when they do it, actually – nothing in the entire world makes his boyfriends spill mindless and heartful and spirited praises as when Minhyuk tries to line up next to Hyungwon already buried deep in Changkyun and fit in just right to fuck him shallow and short until they’re nothing but a collection of beige-coloured molecules spurting cum all over each other. Praises and double cocks – fun, office room in the middle of the corridor – not so much.
But Hyungwon is pushing down on his tongue after every hitching ‘eh’ Changkyun releases, and Minhyuk’s fingers go batshit in his bum, spreading and massaging and still leaving Changkyun unstimulated. He would like to speak out, but his jaws are loose around Hyungwon’s hand, and his tongue is exhausted with all the sucking he’s done. He is almost at peace. Almost.
“He’s good, Dr Chae,” Minhyuk says, voice hoarse and thick with arousal, and Changkyun delights in how much his ass affects Minhyuk’s entire physical equilibrium.
Hyungwon hums and slowly retrieves his fingers back despite Changkyun’s claws digging into his delicate wrist. He softly clicks his tongue and squeezes his cheeks with the other hand. Changkyun grunts but lets go, although not without biting the knuckles one last time. When the tips of Hyungwon’s fingers leave his mouth, a string of saliva connects them to his bottom lip and breaks onto his chin. God, they are spit-slick, glistening in the creeping white daylight and whiter than the white walls, and Hyungwon looks at them almost apathetically, so used to Changkyun teething on his hands pretty much every day (a couple of times a day) (and during the night) (it helps him sleep).
“You’re not gonna DP me, right?” Changkyun asks, voice even hoarser than Minhyuk’s, exhausted with all the finger-throating he’s been doing. His jaws refuse to slam shut; his jaws want a dick or two in his mouth right now.
Minhyuk pulls his fingers out as well and gives Changkyun’s butt cheek a hearty knead. “No, baby,” Minhyuk exhales, and Hyungwon just about quirks one eyebrow at the breaking of his character. “But you just look so,” he grunts and digs blunt fingertips into Changkyun’s flesh, making his breath hitch. Minhyuk eventually settles on, “welcoming,” and steps back with an encouraging pat on his bum.
Changkyun turns to face him, Minhyuk’s eyes fall on his erection, Hyungwon walks around the table, taking off his gloves on the way. There is a lot of useless moving and pacing, a lot of useless silences, a lot of useless staring and the absolute lack of action between actions, but then Hyungwon tosses the gloves on the floor and starts rapidly unbuttoning his shirt. Minhyuk toes the heels of his shoes and throws them off his feet, and snakes in Changkyun’s stomach slither once again at the sudden progression. Finally. Fucking finally. He won’t be the only one standing naked in the room like a fucking clown.
Hyungwon makes no move to shrug the lab coat off his shoulders, neither does Minhyuk. Perhaps he talked too soon.
“Change the gloves,” Hyungwon says and abruptly pulls Minhyuk’s pants down. Minhyuk tries not to hiss when the fabric slides over his hard-hard boner, still hidden under his boxers, and he masks the painful-painful urge to fuck right here and now behind simultaneous tugging of his gloves and clumsily stepping out of his trousers. Hyungwon does the same, a little more gracefully but just as frustrated.
Changkyun just leans against the desk and waits, face blank as if he isn’t about to wail at the prospect of receiving blue balls if he doesn’t get fucked right this very second (knowing his boyfriends, he won’t). He’s got many talents, but one of his best talents for sure is keeping his face as impenetrable as humanly possible. One time he even toyed around with his boyfriends when they were in the first stages of dating, pretending like he wasn’t affected by anything they did, and it got Minhyuk so frustrated he nearly cried, and Hyungwon just frowned at him and went on Google to search im rewlly hot why js my boyfirend not affcted by my presecnce. (Changkyun laughed then, and Minhyuk – jokingly – or not – threatened to throttle him if he did this ever again, and then Changkyun was edged until he sobbed, and Hyungwon and Minhyuk high-fived at the end of it. High-fived. Changkyun would like to point it out.)
Too bad this stunt doesn’t work anymore. Changkyun would like it very much if he didn’t get hard at the simple caress on his thigh or grew putty and baby or whatever with fingers in his mouth. He is not a baby. He is an engineer with a somewhat completed PhD research and lots of aspiration for the upcoming qualifying exams. He can build a motor from scratch. He can recite William Thompson’s works on thermodynamics in Victorian English and has read at least five books on quantum mechanics, although that’s not his field at all and he just likes reminding himself that deep inside, he is a carefully and wonderfully constructed work of atoms and their little -trons friends, and that his existence in itself is a miracle that defies God that he only believes in every once in a while anyway when needed. Changkyun is very clever. Can a baby relate to this?
Hyungwon sits on the other end of the desk, pantless and underwearless, gracefully takes off his glasses and beckons him closer. “Baby, come here,” he breathes out.
Changkyun almost whines.
Minhyuk wraps his arms around his waist and practically picks him up, nicely (though with a lot of effort) transferring him onto Hyungwon’s thighs. “Come on, baby,” he mumbles.
Changkyun properly whines.
Hyungwon’s boner is pressing into his lower back, leaving smudges of precum on his skin, and Minhyuk grabs a pack of disposable gloves again. Hyungwon finds a condom on the table, rips one square and tries to fit it on himself without pushing Changkyun off. He is so ready, he is so anticipating sitting tight and nice on his boyfriend’s dick, his hands grip his thighs, his teeth are back on his lower lip, and then Minhyuk takes out one glove and doesn’t put it on.
With a confused mm? Changkyun looks up at him, and Minhyuk stretches two latex fingers between his hands and brings it down. Towards Changkyun’s dick.
“You can hold it in for a bit, can‘t you, Mr Im?” he asks with a gentle curl of a smile.
Changkyun kind of just wants to whine and jerk himself off already to stop the torture, but he is also kind of really into being edged until he has tears in his eyes, so he just weakly nods and pitifully looks at his furiously blushing cock. Minhyuk mutters something along the lines of ‘good boy’, and ties the glove around the base of his dick. Tight. Hyungwon kisses the side of his neck, gliding his tongue along his jugular, wet, slimey, cool and velvety, and Changkyun really wants to smooch so-so badly right now.
“Just say stop when it’s too much,” Minhyuk mutters and kisses his nose. Changkyun snivels and lightly bounces on Hyungwon’s thighs, so frustrated again. Not stimulated, not kissed, and still not sitting on a dick.
“Shh, baby,” Hyungwon whispers, voice lower than normal, and kisses the shell of his ear. His gangly arms reach for the pack of gloves, take out two and hastily put them on right in front of Changkyun, and he watches the process with hungry interest and deadly anticipation, snakes coiling in his stomach again. He bounces like a capricious baby again.
Ah, fuck. Not the baby mode.
Minhyuk grabs him under armpits and lifts him just enough to slide him over Hyungwon’s dick, and Hyungwon grunts when Changkyun is pressed against his stomach like a bag of bricks. His balls just brush Hyungwon’s shaft, but even the simplest stimulations make him catch on fire. In some other life, Changkyun is a demon who is not afraid of fire and death by sex; in some other life he is The Sexy Monster inflicting aching erections on everyone who’s done him wrong in this life (including his boyfriends. Especially his boyfriends) and never letting them cum, like, ever, but for now he is just a mere mortal man named Im Changkyun, 30, Boston sweetheart, pan, encyclopaedic definition of a bottom, works full-time on a nerdy job alongside these miscreants that have never known the rage of flames of hell.
Just they wait. Just they wait until Changkyun sells his soul to the Devil and becomes the hellfire personified.
“Spread your legs,” Minhyuk says, and Changkyun obliges like the mere mortal he is. Oh, he is such a sight, he knows he is, so he allows himself a little moment of prideful glory when Minhyuk licks his lips in obvious thirst.
Changkyun only now registers the slick movement of Hyungwon’s gloved hand moving over his dick, coating it in lube.
Minhyuk lifts him up, Hyungwon grabs his own cock and guides it into Changkyun, and bless them monster dicks for being so nice and curvy, because when Changkyun gently slides down on it, it stays inside and presses against everything he ever needs to be pressed on. He moans, having missed the stretch since early morning. He’s gonna get fucked so good.
Except he just sits on the cock and does nothing, because neither Hyungwon nor Minhyuk do anything. Hyungwon’s slick hand is holding his balls, showing Minhyuk as much of their sexy position as possible, and Minhyuk just stares as he pulls new pairs of gloves over his hands.
“Be a good cock sleeve for Dr Chae for now, okay?” Minhyuk says, and before Changkyun can protest in his bratty fashion, Hyungwon’s latex fingers are shoving past his lips again, and Changkyun immediately shuts up. And whines. Because he can’t live a day without whining. It acts as a somewhat relief to his hard unapproachable exterior, meaning he can allow himself to stop being clever for just a second and instead act like a rightfully assigned twink at birth he was meant to be.
Says a lot about him, seeing as he is dating two other twinks that just so happened to have monster hands and sexy doctorate certificates on the walls of their offices. That is, they hold full and absolute power over Changkyun’s sapiosexual ass. That is, a sexy scientific word out of their mouths, and he is on his knees begging for their intelligent cocks.
His mind is a porridge.
Minhyuk tugs his underwear down at last. The stained fabric slides down his legs, and he steps out of it, and Changkyun spares a curious glance at his Spider-man socks, definitely stolen from Changkyun’s side of the closet. Hyungwon’s socks are white and boring, grey blotches from his new shoes staining around the knuckles. His cock is pressing against his walls in the most delicious way possible, and Changkyun’s whole motor functions shut down, like Microsoft software.
All that’s indicating that he is still alive is his spit-coated lips sloppily sucking around the fingers.
Maybe I am good at being baby, he briefly thinks and continues cockwarming like this is all he was born to do.
Minhyuk idly strokes his length with his left hand, hissing just slightly as he observes the way Changkyun’s perfect stretched rim clenches and unclenches around Hyungwon’s dick (he knows he has a perfect butthole), and Hyungwon fondly pats his tummy, swirled into a little roll after lunch.
It’s kinda cute when he reminds himself that they’re both still wearing their dumb lab coats.
This lasts for about five seconds, and then Minhyuk lets go of himself and grabs the lube bottle, pours generously over his entire hand and coats his fingers through the ring of fingers of his other hand, mimicking a wank. What a fucking idiot.
Then he brings his lubed-up hand to Changkyun’s hole and teases right where he connects with Hyungwon, where his skin is on fire and where he hugs him so nicely and so desperately, a sudden cold touch feels like a taser to his entire nervous system. He squeals in muffled surprise, but Hyungwon softy shushes into his ear. Fingers in his mouth slide in just a little bit deeper; Changkyun’s tongue massages the underside.
“Such a good boy you are, Mr Im,” Minhyuk exhales, and Hyungwon kisses his sucked in cheek, his jawline, his temple. Changkyun tries to curl down to see exactly what Minhyuk’s fingers are doing, but the more he moves, the harder Hyungwon’s dick presses inside him, and so he resorts to quietly whining at the sudden intrusion of cold slicked fingertips. “Do you mind if I keep Dr Chae’s member a company?”
Funny thing is, Minhyuk is extremely shy about dirty-talk. Hyungwon is ten times shyer about dirty-talk. Changkyun’s post-sex hobby includes gaggling at his boyfriends and screaming ‘COCK! DICK! BALLS!’ at the top of his lungs until they throw a pillow at him to shut him up or exile him to the couch in the living room. So, really, Minhyuk must be in a good ass mood today to be spitting words like ‘cock sleeve’ right into Changkyun’s face, and Changkyun really doesn’t want to destroy it for the other man.
Hyungwon is breathing harshly in his ear, his thighs tremble ever so slightly.
It’s definitely a bit of a stretch when Minhyuk’s forefinger slips into his hole––oh, oh, oh, it’s definitely a fucking stretch when it fits to his second phalange, it’s definitely a sore ass until the rest of the day, and Changkyun’s got four more hours of work to sit out.
“Just a second, baby,” Minhyuk coons sugarly sweet, and presses his finger tight-tight-tight against his walls until it’s a spark, and Changkyun is on fire again.
His legs jerk, his breath hitches with ceaseless whimpers, and all he does is clutch Hyungwon’s wrist and wait for Minhyuk to do it again, to slam his prostate like he doesn’t know how to treat a delicate bottom (which he knows all too well).
Changkyun clenches and flinches the more Minhyuk fingers him, he feels hot lead spreading from the very bottom of his belly to the rest of his limp body, but it refuses to flow into his tip and escape through there, and Changkyun sucks on Hyungwon’s fingers so desperately he’s pretty sure they have already swelled up from all this torture.
Behind him, Hyungwon groans quietly, through his nose and gritted teeth, and his frustration passes to Changkyun through crooked bones of his chest and sharp hips digging into Changkyun’s own. His glass-made skeleton is about to break, Changkyun feels it, and then years from now Minhyuk and him will lay flowers on the other man’s grave and still pick out tiny ivory splinters from his back. All that they will remember of Hyungwon is his Gollum-like spine and gawking eyes, his swirled naked body still haunting them in his own apartment and creeping around their bedroom, ceaselessly whispering into their sleeping faces, “my boner, my boner, my boner!” until Minhyuk and Changkyun wake up in cold sweat in the middle of the night, their own dicks flaccid and dry for the rest of their miserable monogamous lives.
Oh, God, if you are there, Changkyun pleads, just let Hyungwon fuck me already, I don’t want to lose him to errupted sex organs and epididymal hypertension.
No! No more Hyungwon-sounding medical terms in his head! No more Hyungworms for brains, no more stimulating Hyungwords on his tongue! No more!
One time, though, Hyungwon told them a story from his days back in forensics, about how one of their victims was tortured to death with never-ending erections until the guy couldn’t feel his organ anymore, and it lasted for days, no food, no water, just lube in his digestive system, and then he was strangled. Hyungwon was like, I couldn’t believe my eyes! His testicles were blue, like proper blue, like Facebook logo-blue! Oh, boy, I wished I kept the pictures, it was the most fascinating autopsy I’ve ever done in my career.
And he is the guy who did an autopsy on a guy that was surgically ravaged to store packets of cocaine in his stomach to safely cross the borders.
Hyungwon never told them if they ever caught the guy. The killer of the blue-balls lover, that is.
“Minhyuk,” and here Hyungwon finally shows his voice outside of Changkyun’s mind. He sounds like he is choking on a chicken foot. “He’s been my cocksleeve long enough, can we speed it up a little?”
And even in situations as desperate as this one, he is as polite as ever.
Minhyuk removes his fingers (Two? Two? Two?!) with a squelch, and Changkyun whimpers again, suddenly missing the pleasantly aching stretch and constant hit against his prostate. The latter probably the most.
“Not until I get inside him too. Spit-roasting?” Minhyuk mouths to Hyungwon, to which the other man just nods uselessly. Minhyuk wipes his fingers on his lab coat and takes a condom from the table. The bottle of lube is in the game once again, now generously coating Minhyuk’s latex-clad dick. Latex dicks, latex fingers, what is this, Changkyun’s heaven? Ha-ha. Lord save him.
“How are your legs?” Minhyuk asks, out of breath as he strokes himself almost relentlessly.
Unwillingly, Changkyun drags Hyungwon’s hand out of his mouth (it’s so wet and smells like wet latex and spit and it drips onto Changkyun’s chest like transparent slime oh god his boyfriend is melting like a gooey alien and will be a puddle of slick wiggling on his stomach like jello). “Can’t feel them,” he rasps out. Does his voice always sound so fucked out? Like he’s been deepthroating for hours and not infantly sucking on his boyfriend’s skinny wormy fingers?
“Cool,” is all Minhyuk says before grabbing Changkyun by the hips with his slick hands and lifting him off Hyungwon’s long cock. And that’s a lot of lifting to do, Changkyun would like to point out.
His knees give out as soon as his feet meet the floor, but Minhyuk holds him tight and strong (and where is he storing all this strength in his twinky body?) and spins him around. Hyungwon slides off the desk enough for his bum to balance on the edge and his feet stand firmly on the ground (fuck them long spider legs) and takes off the condom, still mindful enough to throw it in the bin by the table and not on the floor like Changkyun would do.
Without further ado, Changkyun bends down, grabs onto Hyungwon’s squished thighs for his fucking life, and pants over his hard-hard red leaking cock, so hard Hyungwon doesn’t even need to hold it. Minhyuk adjusts himself behind him, taps his butt cheeks, lubes him up again because he likes his babies slick and squelching (his words, not Changkyun’s), and presses into his hole.
He slides it with embarrassing ease and doesn’t hold himself back. Changkyun’s mouth opens in a moan and stays that way as he is pushed forward by the strength of Minhyuk’s thrust, and plants himself straight onto Hyungwon’s dick.
This is his favourite position, he can’t lie; pleasing his boyfriends at the same time when they’re both panting and fucking into him with all the desperation the male species possesses when they see something attractive. And Changkyun knows he is probably the most attractive thing ever, and Minhyuk and Hyungwon should feel grateful for a million people and worship him until the end of their sentence in hell.
Fuck, shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit––
Minhyuk slams into him dead-on, filling him up so good and so thick and so good and so good, and Changkyun doesn’t feel the ground beneath his feet. All there is to him is his royal ass and his royal mouth on Hyungwon’s cock, getting his boyfriend off with all the vigour his senseless being can give out.
It lies heavy and thick on his tongue, his jaw already aches from all the stretch he’s had, his tongue is numb and doesn’t process any taste, and his throat is nothing but a soft pillow for the head of Hyungwon’s dick to bump against. Changkyun bops his head, or maybe Hyungwon bops his head for him, or maybe it’s Minhyuk’s thrusts that orchestrate his every move, but everything is happening so fast he stops thinking.
For this blissful minute it takes his boyfriends to cum, his head is empty. No thoughts. Just pulsing on his lips and slapping of heavy balls against his ass. Hyungwon starts fucking his throat with shallow thrusts.
Minhyuk’s moan is a hoarse mewl, clawing out of his throat with the final slam into Changkyun. He tenses and buries himself inside, and suddenly the heat doubles in its intensity, and he knows Minhyuk is seeing white and red and pink, and his body almost gives out. Sometimes he cums with tears, when the three of them are in a particularly loving mood. Sometimes he bites onto something in the closest reach, usually Changkyun’s shoulder or Hyungwon’s cautiously offered palm, and he spasms the rest of his highway to heaven.
He releases a shaky-shaky half-whine, half-exhale when he orgasms, blunt fingers digging into Changkyun’s flesh as all of his insides clench.
Changkyun tries hard to tighten his throat, but then Hyungwon whimpers with a faint ‘Kyun’, and Changkyun relaxes instead and braces himself for the earthquake. That is, Hyungwon is a volcano, his, ahem, is lava (Did you just mentally clear your throat to censor the word ‘cum’?), and Changkyun’s entire balance is shaken when it comes.
Hyungwon usually cums with shuddering gasps and dumbly open mouth, his toes always curl and whatever limb there is that isn’t occupied with something else, he just kind of splays, like a starfish. Sometimes it’s just his fingers, and they cramp in a weak high-five until the orgasms washes off.
And right now, he cums with delicate gasps and little shivers in his thighs, and he unloads rather generously and endlessly into Changkyun’s mouth, but at least he isn’t pushing. No, Changkyun likes choking on whatever is offered to him to choke on, but he can barely hold himself on his legs at the moment, and he doesn’t feel like dying with a painful erection swinging between his thighs just yet. One day, maybe, when the time is right. This will serve an angsty and anticlimactic ending not only to his life, but to the readers of his memoires. And he jerked himself off one last time, sad and old without his late husbands, and accidentally suffered a heart attack from too good of a wank. Legend has it, he still roams around the ruins of his lab chanting ‘fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck’ as a commemoration to his young and beautiful potty-mouth self. It’s a captivating story with a tragic ending, but if he can’t get no satisfaction, then his hypothetical readers won’t get any either. Communism, a tooth for a tooth, etc.
Minhyuk pulls out, at the very long last. He pats Changkyun’s butt appreciatively and helps him up. A pitiful string of Hyungwon’s cum slides down his chin, and Minhyuk wipes it with his latex thumb and tastes it himself. He frowns only slightly, accustomed to Hyungwon’s salty crispy taste, like all the salty crisps he consumes on the daily instead of normal food.
Hyungwon comes to as well, stands up on weak legs, swallows like he’s just lost his mind and forgot who he is and why he is and when did Changkyun manage to get naked (about six thousand words ago, if he counted correctly).
Changkyun kind of doesn’t really understand what’s going on anymore, he doesn’t realise who he is and he doesn’t remember why his body aches all over, but he cares only a little because Hyungwon then grabs him under his jawline and brings him up for a kiss.
Oh, my god.
A kiss.
They’re kissing, at the very-very long last. Deliciously and not very deliciously all the same, wet and sloppy and diluting bits of Hyungwon’s cum on his tongue with their spit, and it’s exactly what he’s been needing all this time.
Changkyun whines with all the little soul he has left, somewhat bounces, somewhat snivels, and then he is being manhandled and directed towards the desk again, seated down – no, laid down, bum on the wooden surface, legs dangling and head just barely hovering over the other edge. Changkyun whines again, because it’s all he knows what to do.
“Shh, Mr Im,” Minhyuk gently hushes, untying the glove around his shaft. He forgot they were even doing that fucking surgeon-patient role-play. “We will take care of you,” Minhyuk murmurs, kissing the tip of his cock.
Changkyun tugs his chin down to see his boyfriends crowding between his legs like hungry hyenas. Their faces look so pretty next to his dick. That’s a champion dick, Changkyun briefly notes. Sounds like a good name for his memoires. He whines, somewhat inquiring.
“Let your doctors take care of you,” Hyungwon whispers and suddenly, his plump, delicious, rosy lips are kissing up his shaft, tracing vines of swollen veins and licking off precum. Minhyuk swipes his tongue over the tip, and everything is fire and hurts, and Changkyun wants to sob.
Teeth settle on his bottom lips again, raking hard as if with intentions to bite it off. Hyungwon, as the least squeamish of the two (imagine being squeamish when dating Changkyun, the squeaky-cleanest definition of a dirty bastard, what a sore loser Minhyuk is), moves to tease his balls, squeezing the last of Changkyun’s bodily functions out of him, and Changkyun whines and whines, his jerking thighs almost hit the men in the chins.
And like the dumb memes on Twitter, Minhyuk and Hyungwon’s latex hands theateningly reach for his face. He imagines that’s what little scared cats see when a scary stranger bends down to pet it in slow motions, and he is ready to brace whatever is it that’s coming, squeezes his eyes (Minhyuk’s tongue swirls just right over the slit, and Changkyun tenses in his stomach until the muscles cramp). What he gets instead is weary latex on his lips, and then – his finger-shaped angels are ready to take him to the pearly gates of heaven.
That is, four still-slick, long, rubber fingers slide into his mouth, Hyungwon’s wormy strings that still taste like Changkyun’s spit, Minhyuk’s curvy cords that taste like tasteless medical lube they stash in their offices. Changkyun sucks and bites, and they move in unison, their hands in his mouth, they press on his tongue and push to his throat to distract him from the torturously gentle blowjob they’re giving him.
Truth be told, just looking at their pretty faces is enough for Changkyun to explode right there and then, but he, unconscious or not, waits for it. For permission.
He is so tense that every muscle, tendon and tissue in his body aches.
“You can come now, baby,” Minhyuk mutters sugarly sweet, a curl of a smile playing in the corners of his lips as his mouth opens once again and playful pink tongue kitten-licks over one side of his tip.
“Be a good boy,” Hyungwon rasps and licks a fat stripe up his length, settling on the tip. His tongue darts fast and furious over Changkyun’s tip. Somewhere half-way, Minhyuk catches it.
The bastards manage to spice up their half-assed blowjob with half-hearted kissing.
Dear Santa, a voice that somehow sounds like the sane version of him, says, Thank you.
No, really, when Changkyun sees their tongues mixing his precum with their spit, playing with each other and his own cock in between, faces so pretty and delighted and only gently-gently flushed, he loses it.
He can’t control the shiver that overtakes his every limb, however many he might have, and he definitely can’t control the scarily high-pitched squeal that tumbles out of his throat, thankfully muted by the endless fingers in his mouth.
Changkyun cums good and long, each spurt accompanied with a jerk of his hips. With blurry eyes, he barely sees Hyungwon and Minhyuk still making out, his cum staining their lips and chins, and they lick it off and pass it between each other, and if Changkyun wasn’t already orgasming at this very moment, he would orgasm again.
No one had ever warned him about shit like that when he entered a polyamourous relationship. He thought this was all fairytales of unrealistic porn.
Yet here he is, crying from overdue orgasm, coming endlessly as his boyfriends eat him as if he were the best chocolate bar on the aisle. And Hyungwon doesn’t even like chocolate.
He squeals again when the sensitivity kicks in, and then Hyungwon and Minhyuk let go. Fingers retrieve from his numb mouth. With a shuddering exhale, he drops his head on the table. Does he even have a mouth? Is he even alive? Is this definitely reality and not just one of his fever dreams he frequently gets when watching the two men in their working element? Who knows? Not him. He is naked on the work desk in Hyungwon’s white immaculate office in the middle of the day, washed in sweat and cum and his own spit and creeping daylight, and that’s all there is to him. No head, thoughts empty. Dick aching.
He vaguely registers Minhyuk and Hyungwon taking off their latex gloves and fumbling with disregarded clothing. Shirts rustling, belts clanking, shoes tapping, and Changkyun is still trying to catch his breath.
He feels a shadow looming over him, and he carefully opens his eyes to face a fondly smiling Minhyuk. Changkyun is alive enough to start smiling back.
“How awe you feewin’, Mistew Im?”
Changkyun groans with all the desperation his partially recovered body can possess. He closes his eyes again. If he can’t see Minhyuk, then Minhyuk doesn’t exist. Minhyuk giggles.
“No, Minhyuk, no more,” he mutters, exhausted. He tries to curl upwards to get up, but Minhyuk’s now human and very warm hand on his chest pushes him back down.
“Calm down, you baby, let’s get your cleaned up.”
As if on cue, Hyungwon appears with a packet of antiseptic wipes like Mr. Proper, a white hero spoofing next to the object requiring most cleaning. In this context – Changkyun, sadly.
They pamper him even after sex, wiping him everywhere like overbearing parents, deaf and blind to Changkyun’s embarrassed whining. He has recovered enough to realise that he is, in fact, a working adult that can dress himself and go back to fixing labs like a good boy he is.
Fuck off, enough of this endearing shit, Im Changkyun.
He barely pulls a shirt over his shoulders when Minhyuk surges forward and starts smooching him on the nose, ignoring Changkyun’s immediate fight instincts. Paws in the face don’t work anymore, goddamnit.
Hyungwon ruffles his ruffled hair, puts a bottle of water next to him like a considerate gentleman he is, sits in his chair by his paperless desk, takes out all his papers from the paper-filled drawer, and lays them in front of him. His sexy glasses are back on his nose.
He turns to Changkyun.
“Do you wanna hear about how we detected excessive amounts of hydroxyacetanilide and chlordiazepoxide in our victim’s blood using the enzyme-linked immunosorbent assay and then found out he was not actually dead?”
It takes Changkyun all his willpower not to not gulp. He looks at the clock – he’s still got five minutes left of his break. Hyungwon seems really, really excited about his research.
Might as well.