Archive of Our Own

Jaekwan’s eyes open to the dark sheen of skin; sweat-slick, trembling, glowing faintly under the infirmary’s shitty overheads. His hips are buried in something tight—wet—burning hot—and underneath him, Soleum is shaking.

He’s not moving.

That’s the first thing Jaekwan notices. He himself hasn’t moved, hasn’t thrust—his thighs are taut, frozen; breath locked tight in his chest—but Soleum is still grinding. Still working himself open in that filthy, frantic rhythm, legs spread too far apart, back arched up like he’s offering himself to a god that never learned the word no.

He’s face-down on the mattress—cheek pressed to the cot’s stained sheets, eyes unfocused, pupils blown out. His lips are red and bitten, spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth; one arm trapped beneath him, the other pawing uselessly at the edge of the bed like he’s searching for something to hold onto. His ass is bouncing with every grind, slick with sweat and lube and Jaekwan’s own come, smeared all the way down the backs of his thighs.

He’s writhing like he’s in heat.

And he’s trying to fuck himself. On Jaekwan’s cock. With Jaekwan holding perfectly still.

He makes a noise then—a sound too wet to be a whimper, too cracked to be a moan—and his body twitches, jerking in tiny, desperate movements. And between the flex of his thighs, Jaekwan sees it: Soleum’s tail, slick and shining, curling up between his legs. It twitches against Jaekwan’s lower belly; ticklish, soft; the fur damp with sweat and something else.

He’s trying to fuck himself with it.

Soleum’s pushing the tip of his tail alongside Jaekwan’s cock, trying to force it in—trying to double-stuff himself while he rocks in shallow, starving little thrusts. His hole clenches every time his tail slips past the rim and Jaekwan feels it—the pressure, the stretch, the pathetic pulse of slick muscle around both lengths. It’s obscene. It’s desperate. It’s making Jaekwan’s head spin.

He jerks—on reflex—grabs the tail at the base to stop the teasing friction.

Soleum screams.

It’s high-pitched, cracked raw down the middle, echoing off the infirmary walls like a sob torn from his ribs. His whole body spasms under Jaekwan; his thighs snap together; his cunt clamps down hard around Jaekwan’s cock and tail both—and he comes. Violently. Wetly. Shamefully.

His cock—still stiff and leaking from between his own thighs—spurts in twitchy pulses against the mattress. It paints his belly and the cot in thick, sticky ropes. His toes curl. His nails drag down the sheet, tearing it. His back arches like he’s trying to snap himself in half.

Jaekwan stares.

Soleum’s mouth is open, panting; his tongue’s out, wet and trembling, curled toward the sheets like he’s too fucked-out to close his mouth. A thin string of drool hangs from his lower lip to the bed. His ears twitch violently, folding back. His tail, still clutched in Jaekwan’s hand, quivers like it’s being electrocuted.

Jaekwan’s cock throbs inside him—shoved in balls-deep and now pulsing against Soleum’s fluttering heat, milked by every aftershock.

“Nnhh—ah—” Soleum gasps, breath stuttering out in tiny choked moans, his body wrung out but still moving, still greedy, still pushing back.

Jaekwan blinks hard. His fingers loosen, but Soleum whines—no—and rocks his hips again, this time just to feel the weight of Jaekwan's cock grind back against his overstimulated insides.

He’s ruined. Filthy. Slick all over. His thighs are trembling and his ass is painted with come—Choi’s, Jaekwan’s, his own, everything dripping down to his knees. His cunt is red, puffy, stretched wide, still fluttering around Jaekwan like it’s starving for more. He smells like salt and slick, like come and desperation and need.

And then he starts begging.

“Please—please, Jaekwan-ssi—need more, I—hah, I know I came, but I’m—still—hnnngh—” His voice breaks again; a full-body shudder rolls through him when Jaekwan shifts his hips, the tiniest movement.

“I need it,” Soleum moans. “I need you, please—don’t pull out, don’t stop—just—touch me, please—”

Jaekwan barely hears himself say it: “Are you—sure?”

Soleum shudders violently. Then grabs Jaekwan’s hand—the one still hovering uncertainly in the air—and drags it up to the base of his ear.

“Here,” he pants. “Touch here.”

Jaekwan strokes it. Cautiously, then firmer.

Soleum wails.

His cunt clamps like a vice. Jaekwan’s cock jerks in place. And Soleum—beautiful, broken, greedy—lets out the most obscene, high-pitched moan Jaekwan’s ever heard, hips rolling back in frantic little circles.

“Again,” he sobs. “Please, again, please again—fuck me—”

Jaekwan leans down.

He mouths at the ear now, letting his breath puff hot over the fur, tongue trailing slow and wet around the edge. He closes his lips around the base and sucks; gently, then with teeth.

Soleum screams again—one long, wrecked sound—and fucks himself back hard enough to knock Jaekwan’s breath out of his chest.

There’s no room for thought anymore. Just heat, and wet, and the rhythmic slap of flesh against slickened thighs. Just the overwhelming scent of sex and sweat and the filthy, obscene sounds Soleum makes every time Jaekwan moves. Mewling, whining, choking on his own breath.

He’s going to break him.

He’s already halfway there.

Jaekwan gives in—because how could he not?

Soleum’s cunt is slick and pulsing, his inner walls dragging on every vein like they want to carve him out and keep him there; he’s still twitching from his last orgasm, body flushed and glistening, but the way he moans—choked, high, pleading—says he isn’t close to done.

So Jaekwan fucks him.

Slow at first—because his thighs are still shaking, because his brain is sloshed with heat and afterglow—but every time he pulls out and sees Soleum’s cunt gape around nothing, red and raw and needful, his hips snap back in faster. Deeper. He can’t help it. Soleum’s voice is getting louder now, every thrust answered by a ragged sob, every sob threaded through with a ruined gasp of his name.

“Jae—Jaekwan-ssi, fuck—yes, right there, please, don’t stop, I need it, I—”

“I love you,” Jaekwan says—wrecked and raw, so sudden he doesn’t realize he’s spoken until Soleum whimpers beneath him, head turned sideways into the mattress like he’s trying to press the words deeper into his ear. “I love you,” he says again, louder this time, like it’s been building in his chest for hours or years or whole lifetimes.

Soleum makes a keening sound—sharp and unfiltered—and pushes back on him, cunt clenching like a heartbeat. “You—you do?” he says, voice trembling, disbelief shining wet and open in the edges of his tone. “I—fuck, Jaekwan-ssi—I love you too, I want you, I want you to keep me, please—”

Jaekwan’s hands tighten on his hips. He’s slamming in harder now, slick-slick-slap, hips hitting Soleum’s ass with wet sound, and all he can hear is the whimpering chorus of yesyesyes spilling from Soleum’s spit-slick mouth.

“I want to protect you,” Jaekwan grits out, cock twitching deep inside. “I want to—fuck, Soleum—I want to take you home. I want to keep you somewhere safe—away from the Bureau, from Disasters, from anything that could hurt you—”

Soleum moans like he’s in pain; or like he’s being healed. His fingers fist the sheets. His legs shake. His tail coils tight around Jaekwan’s wrist, dragging it down toward his inner thigh.

“I’m yours,” Soleum gasps. “I’m—fuck—I’m yours, you can have me, you can keep me, I’ll do anything, I want to—please, Jaekwan-ssi, don’t stop, don’t stop,—”

Jaekwan is panting now, face buried in the crook of Soleum’s shoulder, mouthing along the sweat-slick curve of his neck. Soleum smells like heat and tears and musk, like want made flesh, like the soft fur of his ears, crushed flat against the sheets with each thrust.

“I’m close,” Jaekwan breathes. “Soleum—I—fuck, are you—?”

“Together,” Soleum sobs. “Please come inside—please—I want to feel it, I want all of you, I’m ready, I—fuck, Jaekwan-ssi—don’t leave me empty,—”

Jaekwan doesn’t have the strength to stop.

He wraps both arms around Soleum’s waist, holds him tight, buries his cock to the base and stays there as his balls draw up, as his thighs seize, as the orgasm crashes over him like a collapsing roof—bright, white-hot, breath-stealing. He moans low and broken into Soleum’s nape and feels him clench and flutter around him—

—Soleum’s hole squeezes hard, a ripple of slick muscle milking him through it, and then he’s coming too, again, again, with a choked cry that cracks on the last syllable of Jaekwan’s name.

Come splashes hot over the mattress. Jaekwan feels it hit his own thighs; feels Soleum’s whole body shake, legs trembling like he’s going to collapse under the weight of it.

The room goes quiet.

For half a second—just half—Jaekwan thinks they’re done.

Then Soleum whines.

He’s still moving—grinding back on him, rocking his hips in small, desperate circles even as Jaekwan’s cock twitches in oversensitive protest. There’s come dripping from Soleum’s hole, a mess of slick and white frothing where they’re joined; it dribbles down his thighs, over the backs of his knees, soaking the cot beneath them. His thighs are slick with it. His belly is wet. He’s a disaster. A vision.

And he won’t stop.

“Ngh—Soleum—” Jaekwan hisses through his teeth, jerking back slightly—but Soleum follows, presses himself back with a sobbing gasp, still grinding. “I—it’s too much—I can’t,—”

“I need it,” Soleum whimpers. “I still—fuck, I still need you, please—don’t pull out, please, I can take it—please, Jaekwan-ssi—”

Jaekwan’s hands tremble on his hips.

It hurts. He’s too full, too spent—his cock feels like it’s wrapped in static, the overstimulation sending little sparks up his spine, prickling against his teeth—but Soleum’s begging is wet and helpless and beautiful, and he’s still soaked, still sucking Jaekwan in like his body doesn’t know what empty means. His cunt clenches again, a fluttering spasm, and Jaekwan chokes on a sob.

Then—

The door clicks.

Swings open.

Choi steps in, still rolling his sleeves, and freezes mid-stride. His expression flickers—blank, unreadable—and then slowly tightens with something sour.

“Oh,” Choi says flatly. “You started without me.”

Soleum’s ears twitch. He doesn’t stop grinding.

Jaekwan turns his head, barely able to lift it off Soleum’s back; his face is flushed, his mouth swollen, his eyes glassy from effort and release. “I—fuck—I didn’t—he—”

“You look lucid,” Choi says coolly, taking a step forward and eyeing the mess between Soleum’s legs with a gleam of interest. “I leave for ten minutes and you two decide to get all romantic on me?”

“Shut—up,” Jaekwan grits, voice fraying; he tries again to pull out, but Soleum’s cunt clenches down like a trap, and Jaekwan whines—a choked, desperate sound as his hips seize from the pain-pleasure overload.

“Still?” Choi laughs, stepping closer now. “God, Soleum—did you break him already?”

Soleum whines around a smile, mouth still open, spit and tears smearing across the mattress. “He’s so good,” he whispers. “Feels so good inside—please, let me keep him just a little longer—”

Choi clicks his tongue. “You are greedy, huh.”

He circles the bed like a predator; lazy, deliberate, his footsteps silent against the infirmary tile. His eyes drag slow over Soleum’s back—arched and trembling, sweat-slick and glistening; over Jaekwan’s hips, twitching as Soleum’s cunt tightens around him again with another fluttering pull. His expression is somewhere between amused and hungry.

“Look at you,” he drawls. “God, Jaekwan-ie—you came twice and you still can’t get him off properly?”

Jaekwan grits his teeth, sweat dripping down his temple. “Fuck—”

“You’d think,” Choi says, all sweetness, “but he looks unsatisfied.”

He stops behind them. Crouches; tilts his head to the side. Runs one hand down the soaked curve of Soleum’s lower back, and hums at the way he shivers. His tail flicks once—then droops. Pathetic. Wanton.

Choi’s grin widens.

He palms Jaekwan’s hip and leans in, breath hot against his ear. “Scoot over, Bronze. Let the experienced take care of the real jobs.”

And then he shoves.

Not hard enough to hurt—but sudden; sharp. Jaekwan stumbles, cock dragging free from Soleum’s cunt with a thick, wet sound, and he moans—loud, broken—hips jerking forward in search of friction that isn’t there.

Choi doesn’t let him recover.

He catches Soleum with both hands and flips him—effortless, smooth—one hand on his waist, the other fisting in his thigh to wrench him sideways. Soleum lands with his chest on the cot, cheek smeared against the soaked patch where his own come pooled from earlier; his legs hang over the edge, bent at the knees, ass raised and slick and dripping. He gasps, fingers digging into the mattress as Choi settles behind him.

“Fuck,” Choi says reverently, staring down at the mess. “You really are disgusting, huh.”

Soleum whimpers—half shame, half pride.

Choi grabs his hair and pushes. Not rough. Just enough to smear his cheek directly into the mess—into the translucent smear of his own come, still tacky on the cot.

“You like this?” Choi murmurs, voice low and dark. “All this mess just for you? You like leaking like this? Dripping for Jaekwan-ssi even now?”

Soleum lets out a choked little gasp.

“You shouldn’t be wasting it,” Choi scolds, sharp but amused. “If you’re gonna be greedy, you’d better clean up after yourself.”

His hand tightens in Soleum’s hair. He pushes again.

“Open.”

Soleum opens his mouth.

And Choi shoves him forward; lets him inhale the scent of himself, the thick, bitter smell of sex and sweat and come soaked into the fabric—and doesn’t stop until Soleum’s lips are pressed to the stain.

“Lick it up,” he says, and his voice is a razor dipped in sugar. “Come on, kitty. Clean it. Be a good boy and swallow every drop.”

Soleum moans.

And obeys.

He sticks his tongue out and licks—slow and shameful; his own come, gone cool on the cot, now slicking across his lips. He licks again, dragging his tongue flat over the spot like he’s starving, and Choi groans.

“God,” Choi says. “You’re such a filthy little thing. Didn’t I tell you before? You’re not human anymore—you’re a hole that begs to be filled. And now you’re licking your own mess like it’s cream off a saucer. Is that what you wanted? Hm?”

Soleum shudders.

Jaekwan’s still standing off to the side, breath still ragged, cock softening, his thighs shaking. “You’re—fucking—crazy,” he gets out.

“Mm,” Choi says, and finally starts undoing his pants. “I’m effective.”

He shoves them down—boxers and all—until his cock bobs free, thick and flushed and already hard. He kicks his pants off, then looks at Jaekwan pointedly.

“You too, Bronze. Off. You think we’re done just because you came twice?”

Jaekwan opens his mouth to argue.

Soleum turns his head, his tongue still out, lips wet and shining with his own slick. “Please,” he says. “I—I want both—again—I want both of you—please—”

That shuts Jaekwan up.

Choi kicks Jaekwan’s pants aside—one foot, easy; no ceremony—and then leans down to yank Soleum’s all the way off too, down his thighs, over his knees, past his ankles. The fabric’s soaked with slick and sweat, clinging damp to his skin; Choi peels it off like he’s undressing a gift he already knows by heart.

“Much better,” he murmurs. “Now I can see.”

And he stares.

At the curve of Soleum’s thighs—glossy, trembling, streaked with dried come and fresh slick. At his cunt, red and ruined, still twitching from the last orgasm, still shiny and stretched from Jaekwan’s cock. At the little pucker of his rim, winking slick and untouched. At the way his tail flicks and curls as if it can feel the weight of Choi’s gaze like a brand.

He lowers himself—fluid, practiced; drapes one arm under Soleum’s hips to tip him just right.

Then he buries his face between his thighs.

Soleum screams.

Choi moans.

It’s loud. Deliberate. Just for Jaekwan. He sucks messily at Soleum’s cunt, tongue lapping into the overfucked opening like he’s starving for it; wet, greedy, unrestrained. His nose presses into the cleft of him. His tongue works—not polite, not precise, just eager, just filthy; licking into every fold, every crease, every sensitive ridge inside that hot, fluttering heat.

He pulls back just long enough to say, breathless, “Mmnh—he’s leaking, Bronze—your come’s still dripping out of her. Should I leave it in or drink it up?”

Jaekwan stares—mute, sweating, flushed red from collarbone to scalp. His cock is twitching back to life already, too fast, too painful. “You’re c-crazy.”

Choi grins and dives back in.

He sucks Soleum’s cunt like it’s feeding him, like he’ll die if he doesn’t get every drop. His fingers dig into Soleum’s thighs, spreading him wider. His nose nuzzles low, dragging against that swollen, overstimulated little clit until Soleum’s hips jolt and his toes curl against the sheets.

“C-Choi—sunbae, please—fuck, I—too much, I can’t, I—I’m gonna come again,—”

“Mmhm,” Choi hums—then sucks harder.

And Soleum does. He comes with a sob—loud and sobbing and wrecked—his whole body shuddering under Choi’s mouth, thighs clenching helplessly around his head, cunt fluttering and leaking even more slick across Choi’s face.

Choi doesn’t stop.

He licks it all up.

He licks along the folds, through the come-slicked cleft, down the trembling insides of Soleum’s thighs where it’s run in rivulets—slow and indulgent, tongue wide and flat, savoring the taste like he’s cleaning the plate after a decadent meal. He licks until Soleum’s thighs are shiny with spit instead of slick; until Soleum’s legs give out and he collapses face-first into the bed, panting into his own wet patch, body limp and overstimmed and still leaking.

Choi pulls back with his lips shining and his grin feral. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand—slow, deliberate.

“See, Bronze?” he says sweetly. “That’s how you prep your hoobae for fucking. You can’t just shove it in.”

Jaekwan looks dazed.

Choi stands, stretches—his cock stiff and proud, already flushed and leaking—and steps forward to nudge Soleum’s knees apart again with one polished shoe.

“Now,” he says, voice dropping low, wicked. “Let me show you how it’s really done.”

And he lines himself up—cock gleaming, spit-slick and hungry—and thrusts in with a moan.

Choi doesn’t start rough.

He starts cruel.

One hand on Soleum’s hip, the other spreading his ass wider—wider than he’d had to before, thumbs digging into the soft curve of him, pressing his legs apart until his cunt is fully, shamelessly on display. Still twitching. Still gaping wet from Jaekwan’s come and Choi’s tongue both. Still drooling around the head of Choi’s cock where he’s just barely—barely—pushed in.

“Relax,” Choi says lightly. “You said you wanted it, didn’t you?”

Soleum nods—furious, shaking, tearful already. “Please—”

And Choi rocks his hips forward; slow, shallow, precise—barely two inches in, barely enough to catch.

Soleum whimpers, high and helpless.

Choi hums. Pulls out. Thrusts again, just barely nudging the swollen knot of his G-spot; just enough to make Soleum jolt, make his whole body seize in desperate anticipation—only to stop. Pull out. Grind just between the folds instead, dragging the slick head of his cock through the soaked cleft again and again until Soleum’s thighs are trembling and his voice has gone hoarse with pleading.

“You’re not even fucking him,” Jaekwan rasps. “You’re just—”

“Training him,” Choi says brightly. “Takes finesse, Bronze. You’ll understand one day.”

He slides in again—shallow, cruel; just enough to make Soleum feel it, not enough to let him have it. And then pulls out again, dragging his cock over Soleum’s clit with a firm, wet grind that makes the boy scream.

“Fuck—fuck, please—let me come, sunbae—please, it hurts—”

“It’s supposed to hurt,” Choi says, grinning; one hand now tracing down Soleum’s twitching back, trailing along the spine to where his tail lies slack and forgotten. “This is punishment for making such a mess earlier, isn’t it?”

He grabs the tail.

Soleum freezes.

Choi lifts it to his mouth; parts his lips and licks—slow, shameless, the soft fur dark with slick from earlier, still sticky where Soleum had tried to fuck himself open. He sucks the end of it into his mouth and moans, loud and theatrical.

“God,” he says, pulling back with spit on his chin. “You’re leaking everywhere, kitten. This whole tail smells like cock and slick. Were you really that desperate?”

Soleum chokes on a sob.

“Jaekwan-ie didn’t satisfy you?” Choi goes on, rubbing the tail now between his palms. “He came twice and still left you dripping, still left this poor little cunt hungry. Don’t worry—I’ll take care of you.”

And then he starts thrusting again.

Not hard. Still shallow. Still teasing.

But now he moves in rhythm—grinding into Soleum’s clit every third thrust, pulling back to drag against the swollen bundle until Soleum’s voice cracks with every wet slap of contact. His legs are trembling. His fists are clenched in the sheets. He’s so close, again and again, riding the edge in frantic little sobs—

“Choi—sunbae, I—please, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna—!”

And Choi grabs him.

Wraps one hand around Soleum’s cock—soaked, stiff, red at the tip—and squeezes.

Not rough. Firm.

Just enough to stop him. Just enough to deny him.

Soleum screams.

He thrashes.

Choi holds steady.

And when Soleum falls limp, sobbing into the mattress, drool smearing across the cot, Choi starts up again. Thrusts. Grinds. Edges him up and pulls him back down, hand around his cock like a collar.

Soleum starts begging.

“I’ll be good—please, I’ll do anything—please let me come—please let me—please—”

Choi presses a kiss to his lower back. Doesn’t stop thrusting.

“You will,” he says. “But not yet.”

Soleum’s cock twitches in Choi’s palm—angry red, swollen, slick with spit and pre-come, throbbing against his curled fingers with every aborted thrust. He’s panting into the sheets now, drooling from both ends; his mouth wet and open, his cunt clenched around nothing as Choi pulls out again, only to grind back in with maddening shallowness, dragging his cock head across the inner rim like it’s a game.

It is a game.

And Choi’s winning.

“Sunbae—sunbae please—I can’t, I can’t hold it, I—!”

“Mm, you can,” Choi says sweetly, biting the furred tip of Soleum’s tail; he sucks it into his mouth again, filthier this time, tongue dragging slow and wet up the length of it like it’s a popsicle soaked in slick. “You’re my good little hoobae, right? You can hold it until I say.”

Soleum wails.

His cock pulses again and Choi’s hand tightens like a vice.

Not enough to hurt. Enough to trap the orgasm in his body, a dam trembling on the edge of bursting, heat roiling in his belly with nowhere to go. His thighs shake. His cunt clenches open and empty, begging for friction. His entire body is trembling like a string pulled taut, vibrating on a note of please.

“Why so greedy?” Choi murmurs. “Already came twice and you’re still leaking for me. Still soaking my cock like it’s your job.”

“Please, please, I—I can’t,—”

“Oh, but you can,” Choi croons, thrusting in again—deep this time, just once, enough to brush close to his spot but not quite—then pulling back to slide along his folds again, cock head bumping his clit in quick, punishing flicks. Soleum bucks under him like a thing possessed.

“Please,” he gasps, “I’ll do anything—just let me come, please, sunbae, I need it—”

Choi slows.

Still inside him, buried shallow, not enough—never enough—and leans over him, lips brushing the curve of his twitching ear. His hand is still curled around Soleum’s cock, unmoving; his other still holding his tail like a leash.

“Alright,” he says. “Then answer a question for me.”

Soleum sobs. “Anything—”

“Which of your sunbaes fucks you better?”

Soleum stiffens.

Choi grins.

“Come on, kitty,” he whispers. “Which cock does your greedy little cunt like more? Jaekwan’s fat little slab? Or mine?”

He thrusts again—just one stroke, smooth and angled, rubbing right against Soleum’s G-spot like a secret Choi already knows. Soleum chokes.

“Tell me,” Choi says, mouth pressed behind his ear, “whose cock do you want to come on?”

Soleum’s voice cracks.

“Y-Yours, sunbae—fuck, it’s yours—it’s so good, it’s so deep, please, please, I’m so close, I—!”

Choi smiles.

“Good pet.”

And slams in.

All the way, one brutal thrust; no teasing now, no mercy, just one long, firm grind that shoves every inch of his cock into Soleum’s clutching, soaked heat—and something clicks. Choi groans as the head of his cock presses just right, hitting Soleum’s prostate and G-spot at once, angled so perfectly that Soleum goes rigid beneath him.

“AH—!”

He comes instantly.

No warning. No breath. Just a scream—cracked and raw and wet—as his body seizes around Choi, cunt pulsing so hard it ripples around him, cock spurting helplessly in Choi’s still-fisted hand. Come splashes across the sheets, over Choi’s knuckles, across his own stomach. His tail thrashes. His ears fold back.

He shakes.

He wails.

He breaks.

And Choi groans above him—deep and satisfied—as Soleum clutches around his cock, milking it like his body wants to keep it forever.

“That’s how it’s done,” Choi says, smug, sharp, breathless.

Soleum’s body doesn’t stop shaking.

Even after the scream rips out of him—after his orgasm pours hot and frantic between Choi’s fingers, streaking down his own thighs, soaking the bed beneath them—he keeps pulsing. Keeps fluttering around Choi’s cock like his cunt doesn’t understand it’s over. His voice has gone hoarse from it; his mouth still hanging open against the sheets, slick and red, tongue caught on the edge of a breath he hasn’t managed to finish.

His ears are limp. His tail twitches. His legs are spasming out of rhythm.

But Choi doesn’t stop. Of course not. He hasn’t come, has he?

And he doesn’t need to—not urgently, not like Jaekwan, who’s young and overeager and soft after two rounds and left standing on the sidelines watching like a kicked puppy—but Choi’s cock is still hard. Still buried deep. Still being milked by the most delicious, overworked, overstimulated cunt he’s ever had in his fucking life.

So he keeps fucking.

He pulls out—slow, savoring the suction—and slams back in with force that punches a sob from Soleum’s gut. And then again. Again. Every thrust is deep now, mean and efficient, hips snapping against the raw flush of Soleum’s ass with wet, brutal rhythm. There’s no tenderness left. No patience. Just the thick slap of skin and the squelch of slick and the unbearable, endless heat.

“Sunbae—please—” Soleum hiccups, voice thin and glassy.

“Already came, didn’t you?” Choi pants. “Now you’re just along for the ride.”

Choi can’t stop. He’s not even close.

He’s already come once today—eaten out their hoobae until he cried from it, made him lick his own mess off the sheets like a good little pet—and now he’s hard again, thick and hot and throbbing, but not twitchy the way Jaekwan had been; not frantic. Choi’s cock is steady, unrelenting; he’s old enough, experienced enough, to take his time. To grind Soleum down slowly, cruelly, until he’s crying and broken and begging to be fucked raw even as he leaks come from both ends.

So he keeps going.

One thrust; then another. Deep and firm; shallow and mean. His pace is brutal now, hips snapping against Soleum’s slick ass, cock dragging against every raw edge inside him—prostate, G-spot, rim of that trembling, fluttering cunt. The sounds are disgusting: squelching, slapping, wet and filthy. His cock’s completely coated; a thick sheen of lube, spit, and Jaekwan’s come still clinging to Soleum’s walls, every inch slicked down to the root.

Soleum is twitching.

His body won’t stop moving—legs trembling, arms limp, mouth open in a silent moan, his face still mashed into the wet patch of his own earlier orgasm. Choi fucked him until he came. And now he’s fucking him through it.

“You came already,” Choi pants against the back of his neck, voice thick with heat. “What’s this, then?”

Soleum sobs—his voice thin and high and humiliating. “I—can’t, sunbae, I—”

“You can,” Choi snarls.

He grabs both of Soleum’s wrists, pins them to the mattress above his head in a single smooth movement; folds his body like a fucking ragdoll and grinds his cock back in deep—deeper, angling to press the tip against that soft spot inside, right where prostate and wall meet, where it’s too much and not enough at once.

Soleum screams.

Come spurts from his cock again—dry, weak, just a dribble, a leftover twitch that spills uselessly across the bed. His eyes roll back. His mouth falls open. He’s not talking anymore; he’s mewling, whining like a kicked thing.

Choi’s cock is still hard.

He groans—low and ragged—and pulls out to the tip, watching the way Soleum’s cunt gapes for him; wet, red, ringed in slick, twitching like it misses him already. Then he slams back in, hard enough to jolt the bedframe against the wall. Soleum lets out a garbled, fucked-out noise, and drool spills down his chin onto the sheets.

“Look at you,” Choi growls, fucking into him again. “You want to come again?”

Soleum nods—frantic, mindless.

“Say it.”

“Please—sunbae, I—fuck—please fuck me, I want it—I need it—please, I wanna come again—”

“You just did,” Choi hisses. “Came all over yourself. Came in my mouth. Came on my cock. And you still want more?”

Soleum whimpers—yes, that’s all he can say now, a broken, teary chant of yesyesyesyesyes, muffled by the mattress, by his own tongue, by how far gone he is. Choi laughs—dark and triumphant—and shoves his legs higher, presses him open even wider; his cock hits everything like this, sliding so deep it feels like he’s splitting him in half, gliding right along the tight ridge of his prostate, dragging every slick nerve inside him into sharp, unbearable focus.

Soleum comes again.

He doesn’t even know it’s happening—just that he’s shaking, screaming, sobbing—again, another dry-spasming orgasm that seizes his whole body. His cunt clenches like it wants to swallow Choi whole; his cock twitches against his stomach, too sensitive, too red, still oozing across the mess he’s made of himself.

Choi doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t even slow down.

“Good fucking pet,” he groans. “Now give me one more.”

Meanwhile, Jaekwan’s still hard.

He’s flushed down to the chest, fists clenched at his sides, the ache between his legs gone from soreness to something worse: need. He’s watching Soleum fall apart; watching his hoobae's body twitch and fold under Choi’s hands, slick with sweat and spit and come, spread open and glowing, trembling with each sharp thrust as if he could break apart at any second—and he still hasn’t looked away.

He can’t.

Soleum’s crying openly now—tears slicking the sheets beneath his cheek, his mouth open and drooling, his cunt fluttering visibly every time Choi drives in, deeper, harder, grinding against his insides like he's trying to fuck through him.

“Sunbae—Choi-sunbae—please, I—I can’t—!”

“You can,” Choi growls, slams in again—enough to bounce Soleum’s whole body forward on the mattress, balls slapping against the cleft of his ass, cock dragging against his raw walls like it belongs there. “You just don’t know how to say it yet.”

Jaekwan steps forward.

“Choi, that’s—he’s—look at him, he’s not—” His voice cracks. “You’re going to break him.”

Choi doesn’t even turn his head. “I won’t.”

Soleum sobs again—louder, wrecked. His fingers claw at the bed; his spine arches, his mouth opens like he wants to scream something, and then—

He says it.

“Yes—yesyesyes—fuck, yes, sunbae—yes, I want it, I need it, don’t stop—please—!”

His voice tears open on it; wet and wild, that kind of pleading that sounds like it's being dragged out of his chest with teeth. His body clenches hard, cunt fluttering around Choi’s cock like it wants to suck him deeper, like it finally—finally—understands what he’s being fucked for.

Jaekwan stops in his tracks.

His cock twitches.

Choi laughs—low, dark, satisfied.

“There you go,” he purrs, slams in again, fucking Soleum down into the mattress with one fluid snap of his hips. “Say it again, pet. Louder.”

Soleum sobs. “Yes—”

“Louder.”

“Yesyesyes—!”

Choi moans.

“That’s it. Knew you could do it. Knew all you needed was the right cock in you. Isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes, sunbae—your cock, your cock feels so good—”

Jaekwan groans.

His hand is on his cock now, barely thinking, too dazed to process it, stroking himself with slow, tight jerks as he watches Soleum break apart under Choi—his body quaking, cunt clenching with every thrust, still leaking from the last orgasm, still begging for another.

“Bronze,” Choi calls over his shoulder, voice sweet and taunting, “this is how you fuck.”