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Kun’s skin feels like it’s on fire. If not for the heat inside the bedroom in itself, then for the furnace of a man beneath him.
He can’t find it in himself to be bothered, though. Because the sticky sheen of sweat and the violent flush of his skin are worth the sight of Xiaojun writhing against the bedsheets. Kun thinks he looks best like this, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut while he shakes and shivers from pleasure.
“Look at you,” he says, letting a taunting side of his voice bleed into his words. “It’s so easy to get you riled up, isn’t it? You’re just pathetic like that.” To prove his point, he flicks his wrist and curls his fingers where they rub against Xiaojun’s walls, letting them jab into his prostate with no mercy. It earns him a loud cry and a shudder, and he can’t help the swoop of arousal he feels in the pit of his stomach.
If you asked Kun from two months ago what he thought of the singer he’d been contracted to work with, he wouldn’t have said anything interesting. But that’s because to the outside eye, Xiaojun is just one word: charming.
He has a sweet smile that betrays his strong brows and sharp eyes. It’s easy to like him and his soft-spoken words, and the way he would genuinely get happy when Kun showed him samples he had laying around. Not only that, but he’s easy to work with as well. He respects Kun as a producer and doesn’t have that strange sense of superiority some other singers had when he worked with them.
In short, Kun-from-two-months-ago would have said something along the lines of “Oh, y’know, he’s pretty cool.”
But Kun from now… Kun from now would tell you a bit more. Kun from now would talk about how weirdly endearing Xiaojun’s true laugh is, about how scary he can get when he’s upset, about that one time Kun said some stupid shit and Xiaojun found it so funny the latte he’d been drinking came right out of his nose.
About how pretty he sounds when he’s moaning Kun’s name.
As a producer working with a multi-million seller artist, sleeping with said multi-million seller artist probably isn’t the smartest decision. But an all-nighter together led to one thing, and then to another, and then before Kun knew it he was sneaking into hotel rooms just to have Xiaojun beneath him.
And as much as he wants to say he’s ashamed of what he’s doing—hooking up with the person who contracted him is fucking stupid, he’s well aware—he can’t bring himself to do it.
Because Xiaojun is so damn pretty like this, and he can’t get enough of it.
“Open your eyes, Jun,” Kun says roughly. His grip tightens on Xiaojun’s hip in warning when he hesitates, and it works because not even a second later he’s blessed with hazel eyes. “So pretty. So good.”
Xiaojun bites his lip the way he usually does when he’s trying to be quiet, and Kun would find it endearing if he didn’t want to hear him moan so badly.
He doesn’t have to do anything else, though, because a light voice coming from across the room makes Xiaojun abandon his weak attempt at shutting up.
“Would look prettier with a cock inside him, though.”
If Kun-from-two-months-ago had known being contracted by Xiaojun’s agency meant spending hours in the studio with both him and his manager, who happens to be the menace that calls himself Ten, he wouldn’t have accepted the offer. In fact, he probably would have seen Ten’s stupid face, gone home to wash his eyes out with dish soap, and then called up an exorcist to banish all evil from his life.
While Xiaojun is all sweet-talk and softness, Ten is loud boasting and stupid ass jokes that get on everyone’s nerves and would make any sane person lose that sanity and want to rip their fucking heads off and—frankly, he doesn’t know why Xiaojun keeps him around.
Well. He gets it now.
Kind of.
Ten is… interesting. He’s changed a lot since Kun met him in their college days, and certainly for the better. He still knows how to get under his skin and make him feel like he’s about to burst his bubble, but at the same time, he isn’t all that bad.
And no, Kun-from-two-months-ago wouldn’t have said that even if he’d been paid a million dollars. But he likes to think he’s more mature now, knows how to deal with his shit. And the same goes for Ten. They’re two mature adults.
Which is why he tried his best to not look absolutely affronted when Xiaojun told him he also sleeps around with Ten. Keyword tried, because he doesn’t think he did a very good job if the way Xiaojun’s face fell was anything to go by.
The first thing that passed through his mind had been the realisation that his dick had been in the same place Ten’s had and he’d immediately been so disgusted with himself he almost threw up. Because Xiaojun isn’t a fucking object, he’s just as much an adult as they are and can make his own decisions, and whoever’s dick goes inside him is nobody’s business but his.
Alas, he’d swallowed down the bile and given Xiaojun a smile he hoped to be reassuring. They’d never been exclusive—that much he knew. It was an unspoken agreement that they were both free to fuck around with whoever they wanted. So it was fine that Xiaojun was sleeping with Ten, really.
The hard pill to swallow had been what came after.
“I’d love it if he watched you fuck me,” he’d said, so careless and soft that Kun’s mind had to reel back to process the words.
Xiaojun wouldn’t have minded if he’d said no. He isn’t that type of person, the ones who get upset because they don’t get what they want. But the truth is that Kun is so easily swayed by that smile and those eyes that he couldn’t find it in himself to be disgusted by the idea even if he tried.
So he agreed, because he’s a fucking dumbass.
The hardest part about this all is the realisation that crashed upon him that Ten is actually pretty fucking hot. Sexy even.
He’s sitting on the armchair in front of the bed, one leg over the other and fingers laced together like he isn’t at all affected by what’s going on in front of him. Kun knows it’s a lie because it’s impossible to see Xiaojun naked and moaning and not get aroused.
“Don’t you agree, Kun?”
Ten smiles wickedly, like he knows Kun is powerless in his presence.
“What do you think, baby?” he asks, trying to avoid having to directly answer Ten. “Do you want my cock?”
Xiaojun shivers and nods frantically. He’s got a death grip on the sheets, knuckles gone white from how hard he’s holding on. His chest goes up and down with the breaths he’s heaving, and his eyes are already half glazed-out.
“My fingers aren’t enough for you?”
He freezes and searches Kun’s face.
“N-no, that isn’t what I—!”
“Of course your fingers aren’t enough,” Ten scoffs.
And this is why Kun wants to rip his hair out. Irritation bubbles in his chest, though it borders closer to anger than anything else. Ten is downright annoying, like a middle schooler who just got into high school and wants to act like they’re the shit when really they’re just as irritating and boring as every other fucking high schooler out there and—
“Just get your pathetic dick inside him.”
Kun stops.
There’s something else rushing in his blood now. Which is confusing, to say the least. Because one second he feels like he’s about to pop a vessel because of Ten, and the next there’s this weird feeling that makes his skin tingle and his stomach drop.
Is it maybe… no. No with a capital n. No.
It is not arousal. Kun is a hundred percent sure he isn’t into this degradation shit Ten keeps using on Xiaojun. It’s not like he thinks he’s above that—because that would be kink-shaming and he isn’t that horrible of a person, come on—but he just doesn’t like it. He’s certain of this.
Well.
“Come on, Kun,” Ten says. He’s leaning forward on his chair, elbow on his knee and chin propped up on his palm. He smiles, and Kun briefly thinks the way his hair falls over his eyes is incriminatingly attractive before he catches himself. “I know you’re probably just as much of a cumslut as he is, but you gotta give the baby what he wants.”
And Kun just about loses his mind.
He’d think Xiaojun was too busy being fucked out to register anything around him, but when he looks down he sees the stupid smile on his face, one that says he knows Ten is dissecting him in ways he didn’t know possible.
A tiny part of him tries to fight it, and it’s this part that prompts him to bite his tongue (because he knows very well that if he opens his mouth the only thing that will come out is a moan). But it’s pointless, because his dick answers like some animal answering to their primal instincts, and it fucking twitches in his pants.
“Fuck,” he croaks.
Xiaojun giggles and Kun doesn’t really want to deal with another little shit, so he crooks his fingers up again and grips Xiaojun’s cock so hard it can only be painful. But for Xiaojun, the difference between pain and pleasure is but a fine, blurry line.
He loves them both.
“Oh my—Kun!” Xiaojun throws his head back, and Kun gets the sudden urge to lead down and lick the column of his throat, from his collarbones to the tip of his chin. He bites down under his jaw, painfully aware of Ten’s eyes on them.
In the back of his mind, he realises he’s trying to put on a show. For Ten.
He blushes. He blushes.
“You’re both so pretty,” Ten says, and the condescending tilt to his words is enough to set Kun’s nerves on fire. He basks in the approval. “But Kun, I thought I made myself clear.”
“What?” Kun grunts, and it’s meant to come out harsh and impatient, but even he isn’t deaf to how broken he sounds.
There’s a smile in Ten’s voice when he continues.
“I told you to fuck him. Put that dick to good use, if that’s even possible.”
Kun tears his gaze away from the man beneath him to glare at Ten. But his façade is weak and shatters the moment his eyes meet a piercing gaze that tells him he has no place defying.
His fingers shake when he slips them out of Xiaojun.
“I’m going to fuck you now, baby, is that okay?” he asks and distantly curses himself for letting the endearment slip. Xiaojun doesn’t seem to notice, but Ten bristles from where he sits on the chair.
“Yes, yes! Please, Kun, I need it. Need your cock.”
“I’ll give it to you.”
He flips Xiaojun over and helps him onto his hands in knees. His head hangs heavy between his shoulders and his breath shutters every time he exhales, and Kun presses a kiss to the back of his head, hoping it’s enough of a reassurance.
Ten stops him when he has the head of his cock pressed to Xiaojun’s entrance. His hands are shaking and there’s desperation clawing at his insides, and he defeatedly comes to the conclusion that this whole situation, from fucking Xiaojun to having Ten watch him do it, is much more of a turn-on than he’d initially thought it’d be.
“I want you two to face me,” Ten demands, and his voice leaves no space for arguing.
Kun manhandles Xiaojun into the position and revels in the string of whimpers he gets in return. He may have no control over Ten, but Xiaojun is still wrapped around his finger. He isn’t sure which is more arousing.
“There you go,” Ten giggles like he’s immensely happy over a slight change in position. “I wanted to see little Xiaojun’s face when he’s taking it from the back.”
“Ten,” Xiaojun moans, arching his back and pushing against the grip Kun has on his hips, just to egg him on.
“Can I fuck him now or does Your Majesty have another request?” Kun grits, trying to push down the blush slowly crawling up his neck. Judging by the look on Ten’s face, he fails.
“Kun, baby. Are you that desperate to follow my orders?”
Kun decides: fuck it. Maybe he is. Maybe Ten has an effect on him that he isn’t ready to admit yet. Maybe, just maybe, having Ten watch him fuck Xiaojun while ordering them both around does things to him that he will never speak of aloud.
“Look at the two of you!” Ten squeals when Kun’s shaking with the effort of holding himself up over Xiaojun’s body after possibly the most mind-boggling orgasm he’s ever had. “You look so fucking pretty, and I loved the show.”
Kun-from-two-months-ago can go fuck himself, because getting over his little—massive—hate for Ten just because pretty little Xiaojun asked him to was probably the smartest decision in his life.