Archive of Our Own ^beta

Yeosang is more comforted by the thought of belonging to Hongjoong and Seonghwa than he probably should be.

He loves the feeling of being cared for. Of the doting and possessive attention Seonghwa lavishes on him. The quiet and sharp eye of Hongjoong that always follows him around.

It’s been more than a year since that fateful night of Yeosang’s winter showcase. It didn’t take long after that for them to officially ask Yeosang to be their boyfriend. Sometimes he felt strange about dating a married couple, but Hongjoong and Seonghwa never let him feel less valued for it.

Wooyoung just says he should be grateful that he bagged not one but two sugar daddies to fund his post-grad art career.

As if his thoughts summoned him, Wooyoung rushes into Yeosang’s box-filled room, flopping unceremoniously on top of him. Yeosang feels the breath wheeze out of his chest.

“Yeosang, if I see another cardboard box I might just commit a crime.”

He pats Wooyoung’s head in sympathy. They had been roommates for four years now, the entirety of their uni years. Neither of them realized the sheer amount of stuff they had accumulated throughout that time.

Now that they were moving out, everyday was a new battle trying to sort through random knickknacks and mismatched utensils and the empty liquor bottles they had collected like trophies. Though, Yeosang didn’t really drink these days.

“Make me feel better,” Wooyoung whines. “How much do you still have left to pack?”

Yeosang laughs. “Not as much as you, probably.”

Wooyoung pokes his hip sharply, making him flinch slightly. “I said make me feel better , you traitor!”

“But best friends don’t lie to each other.” Yeosang rounds out his eyes as much as he can.

Wooyoung narrows his eyes. “Then when I ask you why you flinched when I poked you, you won’t lie?”

“That’s cheating!”

“Cheating is the art of life, Kang Yeosang.” Wooyoung nods, mockingly sage. Yeosang smacks his best friend's head with a pillow.

They laugh for a moment and Wooyoung shifts his head on Yeosang’s stomach to look up at him. “Seriously though, tell me all the details. I’m currently living vicariously through your sugar daddies.”

Yeosang rolls his eyes at the familiar conversation. “They’re my boyfriends, not my sugar daddies.”

“They constantly drive you around in their fancy cars with a chauffeur.”

“Hyungs get worried about me walking alone.” He counters.

“You’ve gotten more expensive gifts in the last year than you have in your entire life.”

“I get them gifts too!”

“They’ve literally been paying our rent since the first month you started dating.” Wooyoung volleys back.

“Hongjoong-hyung said he wanted me to focus on school.”

Wooyoung gives him a dry look. “You’re moving in with them after graduation.”

“Yes, a totally normal thing for a person to do with their boyfriends!” Yeosang side-eyes Wooyoung. “You act like you aren’t also moving in with San?”

Wooyoung dramatically gasps. “This isn’t about me! Besides, I won’t let myself get distracted. What happened to your hip?”

Wooyoung really was the most persistent person on the entire planet.

But the words bring a certain memory to the forefront of his mind. Yeosang recalls the night it happened.

Yeosang was leaning back against Seonghwa’s chest, legs spread as Hongjoong had fucked into him. He could barely think beyond the pleasure, but he recalled Seonghwa whispering things in his ear, pretty and good and mine .

He remembered Hongjoong kissing Seonghwa over his shoulder, hazily staring up at them as Hongjoong’s pace never faltered.

He also remembered Hongjoong dragging his hand up Yeosang’s chest to his neck. He did that a lot, cradled Yeosang’s neck in the palm of his hand, not to hurt but to feel. He thought that Hongjoong liked holding Yeosang’s life in his hand, shielding his most vulnerable spot from everything else in the world. Yeosang loved it too, the knowledge that Hongjoong could command the very blood in his veins. Loved when he would squeeze the sides just enough to make Yeosang go fuzzy around the edges.

That time, however, Hongjoong didn’t hold his neck as he usually would. He had softly traced his fingers along its column, gentleness in opposition to the harsh thrusts of his hips.

Yeosang turned his head to give Hongjoong better access, putting Seonghwa into his eyeline in the process. Seonghwa was watching the path of Hongjoong’s fingers with attention so rapt it made Yeosang bare his neck even further. Instinctively, like something deep within Yeosang knew he needed to show his capitulation.

“ Such a pretty doll ,” Hongjoong had whispered reverently. “ Showing his neck so sweetly for us .”

Seonghwa had hummed in agreement. “ We’ll get you a collar one day. ” He sounded out of breath at the thought. “ Wrap it around your pretty throat so everyone knows who you belong to. ”

Yeosang had whined at the words, thoughts tumbling over themselves as he tried to think. But it was impossible with the filthy words Seonghwa was still whispering in his ear, the unrelenting pace that Hongjoong had now picked up.

He couldn’t focus on anything else, just those words spinning around and around in his mind. Yeosang thought he already belonged to Hongjoong and Seonghwa in all the ways that mattered, but the thought of such a physical claim had sent him hurtling.

“You’re blushing!” The Wooyoung of the present snaps him out of his thoughts. “That means I’m so right.”

Yeosang huffed. “Let’s please stop talking about my sex life.”

“So it is about your sex life!” Wooyoung exclaims, triumphant.

Yeosang smacks him with the pillow again and Wooyoung cackles in delight.

Wooyoung finally drops it as they continue to bemoan all the packing they still have left to do. When they’re begrudgingly going through their kitchen cabinets together, Yeosang gets a message from Seonghwa.

Can I pick you up tonight, baby? it reads.

Yeosang feels butterflies gather in his stomach. He loves being Seonghwa’s baby, loves the way it makes him feel. He quickly texts back an affirmative and Seonghwa sends him a cute heart in return.

A few hours and one more packed kitchen box later, Yeosang finds himself waiting in his building’s lobby for Seonghwa’s town car to pull up. He had gotten ready with his boyfriends in mind, slipping on clothes that Seonghwa had bought for him. Doing his makeup a bit nicer than usual.

Seonghwa hadn’t actually told him what they’re doing tonight but, frankly, he doesn’t care. He trusts Seonghwa to take care of everything. Yeosang only hopes that Hongjoong will be able to join them too.

Usually Seonghwa will take him to one of his many clubs if it’s nighttime. Although Yeosang no longer works at Illusion , he sometimes misses the simple work and the friends he made there. He’s always happy to see the distinctive blue lights through Seonghwa’s tinted windows, remembering the hope he used to feel that he might catch a glimpse of his now-boyfriends going into work.

If Seonghwa takes him out during the day, he’ll usually have something more typically couple-y planned. Yeosang loves the days when Seonghwa will lead him to his favourite boutiques, dress Yeosang up all pretty just to unwrap him later.

On days that Yeosang is particularly lucky, Hongjoong will pick him up instead. They’ll spend hours together, going to art galleries and indie movies and upscale fashion houses. With how busy Hongjoong’s schedule tends to be, Yeosang is always grateful for any amount of time he can spend with the other man.

The days when all three of their schedules line up are the best. When Yeosang can press between Hongjoong and Seonghwa, free to follow along and let his mind wander away. He cherishes those days the most. Most days, Hongjoong will slip into bed behind Yeosang, long after he’s already curled into Seonghwa’s chest. He’ll attach himself to the two of them, leaving kisses on both of their brows in a time-perfected ritual.

If Yeosang catches a tang of something metallic in the air on those nights, he never mentions it.

It’s not that Yeosang is… unaware of what Hongjoong does for work. It’s that Seonghwa has told him not to worry about it too much. That it’s safer if he doesn’t know the details. Yeosang trusts him. Trusts them both.

Finally, the sleek black car pulls up in his building’s roundabout. A driver Yeosang has come to know quickly slips out to open the door for him. Yeosang slides in, making sure to thank the man on the way.

Seonghwa is already waiting for him with open arms and Yeosang doesn’t waste any time diving into them.

“Hi, baby.” Yeosang feels Seonghwa hiding his smile in his hair as the car purrs to life beneath them. Yeosang nuzzles further into Seonghwa’s neck.

He takes in the warmth of Seonghwa’s skin against his own, the feeling of Seonghwa’s arms caging him in. Yeosang feels so safe, like there’s no place he’d rather be. He tries to bury himself impossibly deeper.

Seonghwa lightly laughs from above him. “Clingy today?”

Yeosang hums into his neck, shifting so the length of his body is turned towards Seonghwa’s, open and blooming like a flower.

Seonghwa gently tugs at his hair, but Yeosang clings harder to his body, refusing to move from the comfortable spot he’s found for himself. Seonghwa pulls just a bit harder in response. “Let me see your pretty face, sweetheart.”

Yeosang goes easily this time, blood rushing to his cheeks.

Seonghwa takes his time looking, tracing his fingers lightly over Yeosang’s face. If he weren’t trapped in the depths of Seonghwa’s gaze, Yeosang might be concerned about the makeup he currently has on. As it stands, he can’t think past the singular repetition of moremoremore that’s bouncing around in his brain.

His fingers carve a path along the ridge of Yeosang’s brows, flutter across his eyelids, trail down his temple where he knows his birthmark lies. Further still, over the apples of his cheeks and the point of his nose, making Yeosang go slightly crosseyed for a second as he attempts to track the movement.

Seonghwa tuts. “Eyes on me.”

His eyes snap back up immediately, locking back onto Seonghwa’s own. Yeosang melts further into the touch when he sees the approval sparkling there.

When Seonghwa is satisfied that Yeosang won’t be moving his eyes again, his fingers continue their movements. Yeosang imagines that each place Seonghwa touches is being set aflame, blazed in a trail of gold. He wishes that if he looked in a mirror he’d be able to see all the places that Seonghwa has marked and claimed as his own.

Seonghwa’s fingers have moved down to his lips now. They ghost over his cupid’s bow, mindful not to smudge the lipgloss he had carefully applied earlier. Finally, Seonghwa cups his chin, lightly adjusting Yeosang so his face is tilted upwards.

Yeosang carefully keeps himself still, letting Seonghwa do as he pleases.

He must have done the right thing because after a few more charged seconds, Seonghwa softly smiles and leans in. Yeosang’s breath catches in his throat, despite how many times they’ve kissed over the past year. Everytime feels like the first.

Seonghwa keeps it chaste, brushing their lips together a few times with just enough pressure to leave Yeosang’s mouth pleasantly buzzing.

For a second, Yeosang doesn’t realize that Seonghwa has pulled back. He feels dazed, trapped in the private bubble Seonghwa has created for them.

Yeosang sees Seonghwa’s tongue flick out, wiping a bit of Yeosang’s lip gloss off his lip.

When Seonghwa is satisfied, he rearranges Yeosang so that he’s leaned up against him again. Seonghwa’s dark hair is tickling his nose and the seatbelt is digging into his shoulder, but Yeosang feels so warm and sated that he doesn’t particularly care.

Yeosang loses time like that, tucked safely under Seonghwa’s arm, letting him scratch over his scalp. He’s content to let his boyfriend lead their night.

Content to just be at Seonghwa’s side.

*

Seonghwa ends up taking him to a new boutique that had just opened. The store is closed just for them and Yeosang loses track of everything Seonghwa gives him to try on.

He’s just grateful that today was a day Seonghwa felt up to trying things on too.

Yeosang loves wearing the things Seonghwa (and Hongjoong, when he has the chance) pick out for him. Loves the feeling of their approving eyes as they watch him in the clothing they chose.

But, he also loves when he and Seonghwa take over the fitting rooms together. It makes Yeosang feel like a kid again, giggling and playing dressup in his mother’s too-big clothes. Of course, everything Seonghwa hands him is impeccably tailored and fits him perfectly. Somehow he seems to have an eerily accurate eye for what will fit Yeosang.

Currently, he’s wearing a baby blue shirt that’s fitted to his waist but flowy towards his shoulders. There’s a higher neckline than he’s used to with a fastening button at the back. Yeosang smooths his hands down the fabric, appreciating the way it complements his figure.

Seonghwa watches him with a fond smile. “Let me get that for you.” He says smoothly.

Yeosang watches through the mirror in front of them as Seonghwa reaches for the button at the back of the shirt. The feeling of the neckline tightening around his throat makes his breath hitch slightly, drawing Seonghwa’s attention.

“Too tight?” He meets Yeosang’s eyes through the mirror.

Yeosang’s brain has logged off. His awareness has narrowed completely to the sensation of the shirt’s collar around his neck, Seonghwa’s fingers holding it closed on his nape. Yeosang shakes his head, enough to respond to Seonghwa without dislodging his hand.

The other man gives him a considering look, watching his face, the way his breath hasn’t yet gone back to its normal pattern.

Seonghwa takes half a step forward so that his leg is slotted between Yeosang’s and splays his free hand over Yeosang’s stomach. The hand on the button tightens imperceptibly, just enough that Yeosang feels it.

His eyes immediately go glassy, knees buckling beneath him. Seonghwa’s eyes spark as he shifts Yeosang’s weight back against his own chest, stroking up and down his front soothingly.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” His voice is low and smooth, breath fanning over the shell of Yeosang’s ear. “So pretty for me.”

A tiny shiver zings down Yeosang’s spine as Seonghwa finally does the button. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or upset when his hand disappears and the shirt collar is back to a normal degree of tightness.

Yeosang lets the moment pass by as Seonghwa soothes over his arms one last time before handing him something else to try on.

The rest of the shopping trip passes in much the same way. Turns out, Seonghwa had brought him here to find a new outfit for a club event they would be going to later that night. Yeosang isn’t too worried about the last-minute notice. All he’ll have to do is sit with Seonghwa as he makes sure everything is running smoothly with his club and accept as many free drinks as his boyfriend will let him. If he’s good, Seonghwa will usually let him sit in his lap too.

Yeosang mostly runs through the night on autopilot, letting the familiar pump of the club’s bass wash over him when they arrive.

By the time they finally make it to the private section at the back, Seonghwa has been stopped no less than five times by different people who just had to talk to him at that very second. Yeosang mentally checked out after the third. He’s never been good at the socializing and schmoozing aspect of what Seonghwa does, much more content to sit pretty beside him and whisper jokes and observations in Seonghwa’s ear when the opportunity arises.

He’s noticed that Seonghwa seems much more at ease in his skin when Yeosang does. Likely imperceptible to an outsider, and even to Yeosang just over a year ago, but he’s learned to read Seonghwa. The almost unnoticeable twitch of his eyebrow when he’s annoyed or the way his eyes shift when he knows someone is lying to him.

Tonight, Yeosang is pleased that Seonghwa immediately pulls him into his lap, arranging him so that he’s securely tucked into Seonghwa’s shoulder. Yeosang internally fist bumps himself. It’ll be much easier to whisper his observations into Seonghwa’s ear like this.

At one point, Seonghwa moves the hand around his waist to wrap around the back of his neck.

Yeosang is instantly at attention after the earlier incident with the shirt collar. But all Seonghwa does is gently caress his nape, his attention completely on the man across the table from him. The man is saying something about a budget revision and reallocation of club assets, but all Yeosang hears is static in his head.

Suddenly, the fingers tighten on the back of his neck and Yeosang has no control over the way his body instantly melts. He feels the satisfied hum in Seonghwa’s chest more than he hears it.

The neon lights flash and flicker in front of his eyes, soft where they should be harsh. The hues of green and pink and blue trace dancing patterns on Seonghwa’s light blouse. He wishes there were a way to capture the hazy moment. Yeosang thinks Hongjoong would appreciate it.

He is simultaneously heedless and hyperaware of the fingers at his nape. Yeosang feels floaty, like Seonghwa’s hand is the only thing anchoring him to the ground—securing him so he doesn’t slip away into the clouds. 

At some indistinct point later the man talking accounting disappears and Seonghwa leans his face down so he’s occupying all of Yeosang’s vision. The fingers don’t let up.

“You okay?” Seonghwa gently questions.

Yeosang tries to speak, to say that he’s more than okay , that he’s never felt so safe and warm in his life, but all that comes out is a strangled sounding moan. He doesn’t even have the faculties to feel embarrassed over the noise right now.

“Such a sweet thing.” Seonghwa smiles, strokes over Yeosang’s thigh with his free hand. “Stay over tonight?”

Though Seonghwa phrased it as a question, they both know it really isn’t one. Yeosang has slept at Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s penthouse after every single one of their dates so far and he knows that this time won’t be any different. Especially with the way he’s feeling.

Yeosang can’t imagine being separated from Seonghwa for even a second right now, let alone a whole night.

So, he just nuzzles closer into his boyfriend’s neck in answer, words feeling like too much of a pointless struggle. Seonghwa laughs fondly.

Yeosang doesn’t keep track of who comes and goes after that, secure in the knowledge that he is taken care of. Throughout the next five people that rotate past their table, Seonghwa’s fingers lighten up incrementally. He does it slowly enough that Yeosang barely feels the change in pressure until it’s almost entirely gone. He whines in confusion, trying to bring back the feeling.

Seonghwa firmly taps his pointer finger once on his nape to settle him again. Yeosang isn’t entirely satisfied by the gentler grip, but his boyfriend begins tracing a gentle spiraling pattern that has him calming once more. This time, however, he doesn’t feel his awareness go fuzzy, he simply relaxes in Seonghwa’s arms.

The neon lights around them are as bright as before, but Yeosang can pick out other details this time. The reflection of impeccably dressed waiters in the black glossy booths, the condensation that drips down Seonghwa’s cocktail glass to pool on the table, the quick flash of paper bills exchanged a few tables over.

A man crosses Yeosang’s vision, respectfully bowing to Seonghwa before he’s dismissed. He must have zoned out for longer than he realized.

Seonghwa shifts to stretch as much as he can with Yeosang still occupying the space on his lap. His hand drifts upwards to scritch at Yeosang’s scalp, making him lean further into the touch.

“Ready to go home now?” Seonghwa asks into the space between them.

Yeosang nods, eyes fluttering shut as Seonghwa presses a lingering kiss to his forehead. He signals to a guard to the side who disappears, presumably to secure their exit.

Once Seonghwa gets the all-clear, he helps Yeosang to his feet, a little unsteady from the few hours they had been sitting there. With a securing hand on his back, Seonghwa guides him to the fresh air beyond the employee-only side door. The air is cool and crisp on Yeosang’s face, a stark difference from the thick air of the club.

The town car idles at the curb, one guard at attention, ready to open the door, while the other follows behind them. Seonghwa squeezes his waist and leans close to his ear. “I have a surprise for you inside the car.”

Yeosang glances over curiously, walking to the car just a tad quicker than he had been. The guard bows as they approach and opens the door.

Seonghwa makes sure he doesn’t hit his head as he climbs inside the car, but something stops Yeosang as he tries to shuffle over. His head instantly perks up, whipping around to the sight of Hongjoong occupying the spacious backseat. “Hyung! I thought you had work tonight!”

Yeosang throws himself into Hongjoong’s arms with little ceremony as Seonghwa climbs into the seat beside them. He hears the air rush out of Hongjoong’s chest at the impact, but Yeosang is too busy making himself as small as he can against his chest to care.

Hongjoong pats his head a few times, ruffles his hair. He laughs, rumbling against Yeosang’s head pressed to his chest. “Hello to you too.”

Over his head, Seonghwa gives Hongjoong a kiss in greeting. Seonghwa strokes down the back of Yeosang’s head, coming to a rest on the nape of his neck. “Baby, aren’t you going to properly greet your hyung?”

Yeosang immediately feels the haziness creeping back in at the position of Seonghwa’s hand and the gentle command in his syrupy sweet voice. He nods as best he can with Hongjoong’s chest pressed against his face and Seonghwa caging him from behind.

The pressure eases enough for him to lean up and into Hongjoong’s space. “Hi, Hongjoong-hyung.”

Hongjoong’s lips quirk at the corners, curling upwards. “Hello, darling.” His breath puffs over Yeosang’s lips, sending shivers racing down his spine. “Did our Hwa take care of you well today?”

It’s not even a question to Yeosang. “He always does.”

He gets an approving squeeze of his nape from Seonghwa before Hongjoong is leaning in to close the distance. The kiss is searing against Yeosang’s mouth, sending shockwaves scorching down his neck where Seonghwa’s fingers rest and spreading throughout the rest of his body. He clutches onto Hongjoong’s jacket, searching for a lifeline.

Minutes pass in a trance-like state, Yeosang’s world narrowed to nothing but his boyfriends on either side of him. Eventually, Seonghwa taps his neck again and Yeosang pulls back enough to catch his breath.

“My pretty boys,” Seonghwa comments from behind him. “Let’s go home.”

*

The rhythmic sounds of muffled slapping brings Yeosang back into awareness the next morning.

He’s groggy from the late night, eyes crusted at the corners. He’s not quite ready to be back in the land of the awake, so he rolls over in search of warmth and a few more minutes of sleep.

But, the noises don’t stop and Yeosang faintly realizes that the soft bed underneath him is rocking as well. As he comes into further awareness, he can make out the distinct sounds of Seonghwa’s breathy exhales and Hongjoong’s short moans.

As he rolls, he makes direct contact with someone’s shoulder. He’s still too sleepy to pull his eyes open and figure out who it belongs to. Instead, he burrows deeper into the warmth and a hand materializes from somewhere to scratch at his head.

Yeosang hums as he gets comfortable again, but now that he’s realized what’s going on above him, the sleepiness seems to slip away. He cracks one eye open, the other still smushed into the mystery shoulder. Yeosang takes in his surroundings, Seonghwa on his back and Hongjoong hovering closely above them both. The mystery shoulder must belong to Seonghwa then. He assumes the mystery hand in his hair does too.

Seonghwa’s eyes are closed and he still has his sleep shirt on. Hongjoong is settled between his legs and there’s a damp patch where Seonghwa’s cock must be leaking onto his stomach.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence for Yeosang to wake up to his boyfriends already fucking. Over the year and a half they’ve been together, he’s learned that the two of them never really stop and about eight-percent of their conversations are some kind of extended version of foreplay. Yeosang is always in awe of where they seem to find the seemingly unlimited reserves of energy for sex.

But, well, he’s not really one to talk. Since the day they met, Yeosang hasn’t been able to get enough of their hands on him either.

“Joong-ah,” Seonghwa whines.

And oh Seonghwa must have needed this more than Yeosang realized. He’s always so in control, quick with a commanding word and leading hand, the bright star that they orbit around. Guiding him and taking care of him at the center of Yeosang’s universe. He forgets that Seonghwa needs this too. They make up their own little constellation together, pushing and pulling and moving with the force of gravity.

Hongjoong strokes over Seonghwa’s face. “I’m here,” he whispers. He’s presumably bent over as close to Seonghwa as he can get without slipping out. “Our baby seems to finally be awake too.”

He looks over at Yeosang, cracking a smile in his direction. Yeosang instantly feels his cheeks heat, embarrassed at being caught staring.

Though he doesn’t have a chance to dwell on the embarrassment for too long when Seonghwa’s grip tightens in his hair at the words. Yeosang gets to watch as Seonghwa’s long eyelashes flutter and his bleary eyes are focussed on Yeosang.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs.

Yeosang doesn’t need to be told twice. He crawls up Seonghwa’s body, positioning himself so that he can lazily kiss against Seonghwa’s mouth while Hongjoong picks up his pace.

Once Seonghwa seems to be getting close, Yeosang shifts to kiss over the rest of his face instead, freeing Seonghwa up to let out a symphony of noises in his pleasure. Yeosang kisses his cheeks and forehead and eyelids, any place he can reach.

Seonghwa’s shirt has been rucked up at some point, likely Hongjoong trying to avoid staining it and the lecture that will inevitably follow when Seonghwa has a clear head again. Yeosang can see Hongjoong jerking him off, Seonghwa eventually spilling over his own stomach with a groan.

Yeosang is tugged back downwards to Seonghwa’s mouth, entangling their tongues in the contact that Seonghwa needs right now.

Hongjoong thrusts a few more times before pulling out when the oversensitivity becomes too much for Seonghwa. Yeosang hears the distinct noises of Hongjoong’s hand moving over his cock before he’s coming into the mess cooling on Seonghwa’s stomach too.

The air is still for a moment, the sound of Seonghwa and Yeosang trading kisses echoing in the space.

Hongjoong collapses beside them unceremoniously, jostling the bed. Seonghwa breaks the kiss, turning to presumably tell him off, but Hongjoong reclaims his mouth before Seonghwa can get out a word, Hongjoong whispering praises against his lips instead.

Yeosang admires the picture they make together, the pretty contrast of Hongjoong’s bleached hair with Seonghwa’s natural shade of pitch black. Hongjoong’s hand guides Seonghwa’s lips against his own and Yeosang settles back into his perch on Seonghwa’s shoulder to watch.

Yeosang’s eye catches on the pool of cum still laying innocently on Seonghwa’s stomach, below the hem of his rucked up shirt. He bites at his lip wondering if he should—

“You want a treat, doll?” Hongjoong’s voice is raspy.

Yeosang peers up at him. He should’ve known that nothing slips by Hongjoong’s keen eye. So, Yeosang just nods, grateful that he didn’t actually have to ask out loud.

His eyes quickly flick over to Seonghwa who snakes his hand back into Yeosang’s hair. “How could we say no to that cute face?” he says fondly.

Yeosang shuffles himself downwards so his face is level with Seonghwa’s stomach. Seonghwa’s hand remains in his hair, steadying him but not forcing him where to go.

Slowly, Yeosang leans down, dipping his tongue into the mess covering Seonghwa’s skin. It’s slightly tacky already and bitter to the taste, but neither of these things register in Yeosang’s mind. He’s focussed on his task, on getting Seonghwa as clean as he possibly can. Seonghwa hates being messy.

Yeosang feels the haze slip in around the edges of his awareness, single-mindedly focussed on collecting every last drop with his tongue. His tongue dips into the divots of Seonghwa’s abs and traces around his bully button.

He’s thorough in his exploration, receiving approving pats and scratches on his head as he does so. At one point, the bed dips underneath them, Yeosang betting that Hongjoong has gone to get a washcloth for when he’s done.

Yeosang is still trying to find any last traces of cum when Seonghwa gently tugs at his hair. “You did so well, baby.” His voice seems to echo and bounce around in Yeosang’s ears. “Such a good boy.”

Yeosang swallows hard, runs his tongue along his teeth. “Good morning, hyung.” He finally says.

Hongjoong chuckles as he rests at the edge of the bed with the damp cloth. “Definitely a good morning.”

Seonghwa reaches out to half-heartedly swat at his shoulder. Hongjoong lets him as he begins to wipe down the leftover saliva and sweat on Seonghwa’s abdomen. Seonghwa stretches his arms above his head. “Thanks, Joong. I’ll just quickly shower, though.”

Hongjoong nods like he had been expecting that. To be fair, Yeosang had too. One thing Seonghwa would never skip out on is cleanliness.

“Alright,” Hongjoong drops a kiss on Seonghwa’s forehead and stretches out a hand to Yeosang. “Can you come help me with breakfast, angel?”

Yeosang quickly grabs onto his hand, letting Hongjoong pull him to his feet and eagerly nodding. Hongjoong leaves a kiss on Yeosang’s forehead as he tugs him towards the door and Seonghwa disappears into the bathroom.

Yeosang “helping” with breakfast typically consists of Hongjoong directing him on how he’d like the table set while he does the actual cooking as he surreptitiously keeps the sharp utensils away from Yeosang’s reach. He’d like to say that it’s just his boyfriend’s overprotective tendencies, but Yeosang can admit that he’s banned from the kitchen for a reason. As precise as he is with a paintbrush, that same talent fails to transfer itself into a more practical setting.

Once he’s laid out three place settings in their proper spots, Yeosang jumps up to sit on the counter. Seonghwa would scold him, but ultimately let him stay after a pout or two so he thinks he’s safe for now. Something pops and sizzles from the pan in front of Hongjoong.

This is the first time he’s been alone with Hongjoong since his realization the day before and he kicks his feet, debating whether to bring it up.

“Hyung?” Yeosang questions. Hongjoong hums, showing he’s listening. “Can you try something, please?”

Hongjoong raises an eyebrow at him, but still switches the burner onto low and walks over to where Yeosang is perched on the counter. He spreads his legs a little, letting Hongjoong slide in between them and rest his hands on Yeosang’s thighs. The weight settles him.

Yeosang resolves himself and grabs Hongjoong’s right wrist. He gently guides it to rest over his heart, the thumpthumpthump coming a bit faster. Hongjoong watches him curiously, but lets Yeosang do as he pleases for now. Yeosang slowly slides Hongjoong’s hand upwards, slipping over his sternum and clavicles.

He brings it to a stop when Yeosang feels the weight press against his Adam’s apple, gently resting on the skin of his throat. Almost immediately, Yeosang’s breath catches. His hand is still gripped on Hongjoong’s wrist, but loose enough now that it’s more of an anchor for him than anything else.

Hongjoong gently strokes his fingers where they sit on the sides of his neck. Yeosang fights back the full body shiver that threatens to overtake him.

“You look so pretty like this.” Hongjoong says reverently, softly enough to not shatter the moment building around them. “Is this what you wanted?”

Yeosang nods, Hongjoong’s hand moving with the motion. He wants to say more but his thoughts are coming to him slower. Travelling through his brain as if caught in molasses. Hongjoong must sense this because he carefully slides his hand back downwards so it’s resting at the base of his throat instead.

“Do you–” he clears his throat. “Do you think Seonghwa-hyung was serious about what he said a few weeks ago?”

Hongjoong is moving his thumb in a sweeping motion that Yeosang can’t seem to pull his focus away from. “You’ll have to be more specific, angel.”

Yeosang darts his eyes away. Hongjoong is right to make him say it out loud, but he doesn’t want to. He can still hear the shower running from the direction of the bedroom. Yeosang takes a breath.

“Hyung said you would get me a collar.” He gets the words out in a breathless rush. They sit in the space between them and Yeosang finally pulls his gaze back to Hongjoong. His eyes are blazing, heated with something vast and unnameable. Yeosang feels like he’s at the precipice of a rollercoaster, preparing himself for the drop.

Hongjoong launches himself forward, licking and biting at Yeosang’s lips like he can’t decide what he wants to do more. “We’ll get you all the prettiest collars, baby. So many that you can wear a new one every day. Everyone will know exactly who you belong to.”

Yeosang can’t hold back his moan at the words. Hongjoong kisses over his jaw, moving downwards to latch his teeth onto the junction of Yeosang’s neck and shoulder. He leaves marks all the way down.

“Hyung I–” Yeosang stutters as Hongjoong bites down again. “Hyung, I want that so much .”

He’s half-hard in his sleep shorts already, not helped by the motion of Hongjoong’s free hand steadily climbing up his thigh.

“I’ll get the nicest collars for your pretty neck.” Hongjoong says into Yeosang’s skin. His tongue flicks out. “You can have anything you want.”

He moans again, clutching onto the fabric of Hongjoong’s shirt to keep himself from floating away. He wants that so much he can’t breathe with the desire. He wants Hongjoong and Seonghwa to pick out collars for him. For Hongjoong to fasten it around his neck as Seonghwa watches on with warmth and hunger waiting. He wants Seonghwa to tug him around by his most vulnerable place, secure in the knowledge that he’s protected.

He wants to trust these two men with all his defenses. Give them everything that he is and ever will be.

Yeosang vaguely notes harried footsteps in the background but his entire world has narrowed to the feeling of Hongjoong against him. He’s still kissing and biting and licking at every inch of skin he can get to. The footsteps are closer now as a tall figure appears in Yeosang’s peripherals.

“Kim Hongjoong, the meat is burning!”

*

Yeosang stares at the extensive wall of collars with barely restrained excitement.

It’s been a few weeks since the day in the kitchen with Hongjoong, the first day that all their schedules lined up during typical business hours. Yeosang has been kept busy with his final month of school, graduation approaching just around the corner. As an art major, he doesn’t have a formal exam period, but the final projects and defenses are coming at him fast and hard.

They’ve talked about it a lot since that day too. Yeosang has had many conversations with Hongjoong and Seonghwa both together and separately about what this will mean for them, the commitment that it solidifies.

When Yeosang thinks of being collared by his boyfriends, he sees it as a formalization of something that has always existed between them. The natural submission that he has always felt towards the other two. The way that Seonghwa has taken care of him since the day they met and the role of authority Hongjoong now occupies in his life.

Yeosang wants that commitment, a mirror of the marriage bands that Hongjoong and Seonghwa wear.

The three of them spent many late nights curled up around each other in bed with Yeosang’s laptop illuminating their faces as they scrolled through countless kink and collar sites. Yeosang hadn’t realized just how many options there were to choose from. Bulky ones made of leather meant for heavy play and metal O-rings for leash attachments and so many different locking options he couldn’t keep track of them all.

As informative as these sessions were, they also tended to leave Yeosang riled with too much pent up horniness to sleep afterwards. Not that any of them were complaining.

In between all of this, Wooyoung and Yeosang’s apartment continued to empty out. It’s almost sad, looking at the apartment they’ve shared for the last four years reduced to cardboard boxes and bubble-wrapped furniture. He feels bad leaving Wooyoung alone so often in the last month of their lease, but Wooyoung assures him that he and San have been more than happy to take advantage of the roommate-free space. Yeosang just hopes that the new tenants won’t know exactly how much their apartment has been christened this month.

Which leaves Yeosang, here, at a local adult shop staring at their collar section.

Yeosang hadn’t really known what he was expecting. Something dungeon-esque and reminiscent of that one American movie, maybe. Instead, they’re greeted with an upbeat chiming noise as they push open the door and a cashier with more visible piercings than skin who welcomes Seonghwa by name. She’s very friendly, letting them know that she’ll be around if they need any help or advice. Yeosang loves her nametag, “Iseul” written out in choppy lines and contrasted by a border of bright pink and yellow stickers.

The store is brightly lit and seemingly organized by what people might consider least to most scandalous. The front display sections off the rest of the store, lingerie and a few dildos mostly. Once you pass these displays, the store shows its true variety of kink gear. They seem to stock everything from paddles to benches to full kits.

When they pass by a neon green dildo shaped like a tentacle, Yeosang is suddenly glad Hongjoong had their security team wait outside today.

On their way to the back collar wall, Yeosang had spotted a fully assembled harness swing made out of the softest leather he had ever felt when his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He had blushed, quickly catching up to Hongjoong who had walked ahead of him. Yeosang didn’t want to turn back to see what Seonghwa thought of it.

Standing here, now, there were so many options it was slightly overwhelming.

Seonghwa presses against his back, resting his chin on Yeosang’s head. “Anything stand out, baby?”

Yeosang leans his weight backwards, trusting Seonghwa to hold him up. He scans the section again. They had already ordered him a bespoke day collar that would be discreet and comfortable enough wear daily. It’s a pretty and thin chain with a hex lock whose pendant should hang right at the hollow of his throat. They bought the pendant from a separate site, a custom charm of an interlocking sun, moon, and star. Yeosang can’t wait for it to arrive.

In the present, though, he can’t figure out what he wants. From all their research, they had collectively decided on something that wasn’t too clunky with an O-ring for Yeosang’s first. He just hadn’t realized how many collars would fit that specification.

Hongjoong seems to sense how overwhelmed Yeosang feels from where he’s standing at another rack a few feet away. “How about we all pick a few options and meet back to look at them together?” He suggests. Yeosang is amazed by the way that Hongjoong somehow always knows exactly what he needs.

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea.” Seonghwa nods against the top of Yeosang’s head. “I’ll set a five-minute timer to make it more fun.”

Once the timer is set they quickly disperse to different areas of the collar section. Yeosang giggles as he accidentally collides with Hongjoong around the two-minute mark as they attempt to switch sides. He’s grateful the shop seems to be deserted at this time of day.

He grabs a few things that look pretty to him. A simple one made of black leather, a thin band of stainless steel, and another leather one encrusted with gemstones just because the reflections caught his eye. Yeosang passes over collars patterned with stripes and thick chainmail ones and even one that’s pink and fuzzy with spikes. He blushes at a thick collar with PUPPY emblazoned across its front.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yeosang catches Seonghwa mischievously hip-checking Hongjoong out of the way to snag a pink collar right as his phone starts beeping with the end of the five-minute countdown.

“That’s foul play!” Hongjoong calls. “I saw it first.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Seonghwa deadpans.

Hongjoong turns in Yeosang’s direction where he’s walking over to the pair. “You saw that, right angel?”

He giggles again. “Sorry Hongjoong-hyung, I wasn’t looking.”

Seonghwa pulls Yeosang in by his waist, almost dropping a few of the collars in his hand in the process. “That’s my baby.” He smiles.

“Traitors, the both of you.” Hongjoong playfully rolls his eyes. “Alright, let’s pool our resources.”

They place all the collars on a nearby table in front of a mirror, presumably so patrons can try them on without having to go to the changerooms in the back. They end up with a selection of ten and shuffle them around so their picks will be mixed up.

Yeosang reaches into the pile and randomly pulls out a glossy red leather collar with a band of patterned cloth decorating the outside. The O-ring on it is smaller than he would have expected. He holds it up to his throat, picturing how it might look on him but not wanting to fasten it around his neck unless it was his collar.

The red stands out too much against his skin and clashes with his hair, too bold for what Yeosang typically tends to gravitate to. At the same time, he sees Seonghwa scrunch his nose in the mirror. They’re definitely on the same page for this one.

The next few collars go by in the same way, nothing particularly wrong with them, but wrong for Yeosang. He can’t seem to put his finger on what he doesn’t like about them and he feels frustration creep in.

Seonghwa holds him closer to his side. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll know when it feels right.”

Yeosang smiles up at him, grateful for the reassurance.

He tries the stainless steel one he chose next, but the coolness of the metal immediately feels too impersonal. He wants something warm, something that feels like the way his boyfriends embrace him. The next one Yeosang holds up is the gemstone encrusted one from earlier which gets a chuckle out of Hongjoong.

“At least we’ll never lose you,” he jokes and Seonghwa lightly pinches his side. Yeosang giggles and puts it in the no pile.

He dives into the few collars remaining in the pile again, his hand catching on a soft leather band. He pulls it out, eyes catching on the simple elegance of it. It’s white with matching white stitching framing it. There’s a locking roller buckle at the back with subtle notches that blend in with the rest of the leather. At the center is a silver heart shaped O-ring that Yeosang can’t seem to drag his eyes away from.

His breath catches as he brings it up in front of his neck.

“Oh, angel.” Hongjoong breathes out beside him.

Yeosang looks at him through the mirror. Hongjoong is fixed on the white band, eyes flicking over the pretty contrast it makes with the golden skin of his throat. Yeosang shifts his gaze to Seonghwa next. His hand has tightened around Yeosang’s waist and when they make eye contact, it burns him to his core.

For the first time that day, Yeosang unfurls the collar and presses it directly against his skin. It’s lined with something even softer than the leather, warm but still breathable. He can’t help but sigh at the feeling, at the way it looks on him in his reflection.

Yeosang doesn’t even need to look at the remaining collars in the pile to know .

“Hyungs,” he exhales. “Can I have this one, please?”

Hongjoong immediately pulls him flush to his body, fronts pressed up against each other, and grips his chin. Seonghwa plasters himself along Yeosang’s back from chest to thigh, circling his arms around his waist.

“Of course,” Hongjoong leans closer. “It’s almost as pretty as you are.”

Yeosang blushes as Seonghwa leans over his shoulder so that the three of them are almost sharing breath. “It’s so perfect on you, baby.” He kisses Yeosang’s cheek. Not to be outdone, Hongjoong kisses his other one.

“Thank you, hyungs.” Yeosang giggles, happy to be between them in this way, his new collar still in his hands.

Seonghwa squeezes his waist one more time before disentangling himself from the mess of limbs they’ve found themselves in. “Let’s go checkout.”

“What about all the other collars?” Yeosang asks, glancing helplessly at the messy pile of leather, metal, and plastic they left on the try-on table.

“You’re so sweet, aren’t you?” Seonghwa coos. “Iseul will take care of it once we leave.”

Yeosang nods, satisfied with the answer, as he goes back to admiring the collar. He can’t believe how soft the leather already is and the heart is just perfect for the look they had in mind.

Hongjoong uses a hand on his back to gently guide Yeosang towards the cash register. Iseul asks if they’ve found everything okay and Yeosang is too distracted to be embarrassed when Seonghwa mentions he’ll grab another bottle of lube since they’re running low.

He’s drawn out of his thoughts when Seonghwa carefully strokes over the nape of his neck. “Baby, Iseul’s going to need to scan the barcode.”

Seonghwa’s voice is gentle, as if he’s afraid to spook him. Yeosang can’t blame him, he really doesn’t want to let go of his collar right now. Especially to someone he doesn’t know, even as nice as Iseul seems.

“It’s alright, Seonghwa-ssi. I can tell which model it is from here, it’s such a beautiful but underrated piece.” Iseul taps a few things into the POS, glancing a few more times at the leather band to double-check. Yeosang is surprised when she turns towards him with a smile. “But, if it’s alright with you, I can show you how to properly care for the leather and give it a nice home.”

Yeosang considers the offer, comforted by Hongjoong’s hand moving on his back and Seonghwa’s hand still resting at his nape. While he doesn’t necessarily want to give the collar up yet, he does want to know how to best care for it. And Iseul’s been so nice, complimenting his choice while her words assure him that she won’t push if he doesn’t want her help.

So, Yeosang nods. “I would like that, thank you.”

He receives proud smiles from Hongjoong and Seonghwa for his answer as he tentatively hands Iseul the white band. She carefully keeps it in Yeosang’s vision as she lays it out on the counter between them and gives him clear instructions on cleaning and things to avoid. Iseul shows him some things she keeps under the counter, like microfibre cloths and leather moisturizers, and Yeosang tries to burn the images into his brain, pouting his lips in concentration.

“And finally,” Iseul slides an envelope onto the table, sealed with a bright pink sticker of a milk carton. “There’s full care instructions in here. I won’t just leave you out to dry.”

Yeosang sighs with relief as Iseul sends him a cheeky wink. She turns and digs around on the table behind her before gently placing her findings beside the collar still resting on the counter. It’s a beautifully engraved white box, discreet with only fancy swirling patterns to decorate it. When Iseul opens the lid, there’s a dark red crushed velvet cushion, indented perfectly to fit something circular.

“You can keep your collar here for now.” Iseul tells him. “It’ll be safe until you get home.”

Yeosang knows Iseul is just doing her job, but he’s touched at the thoughtfulness. Her numerous piercings catch the light as she smiles, reflecting off the box and counter between them. He gently places his collar in the circle of crushed velvet, watching as Iseul carefully closes the box and wraps a red ribbon around it.

His boyfriends have been oddly quiet around him and when Yeosang glances over he can see that they’re watching him fondly. Yeosang blushes at the intense attention.

Iseul finishes up by putting their items into another discreet black bag, winking at them as she throws in a microfibre cloth for Yeosang and a few other freebies. Seonghwa thanks her for her generosity but she just waves him off, turning to Hongjoong for the payment. They must be regulars here, Yeosang thinks with amusement.

Usually Seonghwa would take the bags before Yeosang could get to them, but today he must sense the need that Yeosang has to carry it himself. Instead, he takes Yeosang’s other hand and follows behind as Hongjoong guides them out. The bell on the door chimes as Iseul gives her own cheery goodbye, the guards waiting with the car exactly where they had left them.

Yeosang is impatient once they get into the car, waiting just long enough for Hongjoong to give the driver instructions to take them home before turning on him with big eyes.

Hongjoong takes one amused look at him before cupping his cheek. “Don’t give me those. We’ll put it on as soon as we get home.”

Yeosang sticks his bottom lip out, trying to win with the cuteness factor. His plan backfires because Hongjoong kisses him hard enough to put his pout away and leave him breathless.

Hongjoong pats his thigh and guides him to lean against Seonghwa who is ready to accept Yeosang into his arms. Yeosang wraps his own arms around the black bag, needing to protect it from imaginary threats.

The drive home is excruciating. The store they went to isn’t far from the penthouse, but with Seoul traffic it takes ten times longer than Yeosang thinks it should.

Seonghwa strokes through his hair soothingly and Hongjoong murmurs to him above Yeosang’s head. He’s too focussed on the bag and what lies inside of it to try to parse out the words right now.

The elevator ride seems to take even longer, Yeosang barely stopping himself from bouncing on his toes as he intently watches the floor numbers tick higher and higher. When Hongjoong finally gets the door unlocked, Yeosang pauses long enough to neatly place his shoes on the rack before bounding forwards to their bedroom.

He’s careful as he empties the bag, laying out the bottle of lube and the freebies Iseul gave them in an organized line on the dresser, making sure to put aside the baggy of three keys and the envelope of instructions. Next, he carefully slips out the white box and reverently places it on the bed. Finally, Yeosang neatly folds the bag along its creases and places it next to the items on the dresser. He runs a critical eye over them, making sure that everything is placed tidily so that Seonghwa will be proud of him.

When he’s sure everything is perfect, Yeosang forces himself to slowly walk back to the bed. Hongjoong and Seonghwa still haven’t appeared so they’re likely lingering outside to give him time to get settled. He deliberately doesn’t open the box, kneeling on the bed next to it instead and making sure the posture of his back is flawless, feet pressed together underneath him, and hands rested on his thighs like Hongjoong had taught him.

Yeosang hadn’t closed the door behind him, so he watches as Seonghwa rounds the corner of the hallway and walks towards the bedroom. Seonghwa smiles when he sees him and Yeosang tries not to peek up too obviously.

He keeps himself as still as possible as Seonghwa approaches him, gently caressing his hair and scratching behind his ear. He can’t help but lean into the touch, despite his resolve to be still and good. But Seonghwa doesn’t seem to mind as he looks around the room, taking in the neat line on the dresser and the box delicately placed beside Yeosang’s knee.

Yeosang keeps his eyes fixed on Seonghwa, but he feels hyperaware of Hongjoong’s presence in the doorway. As if he had a sixth sense for his position that he hadn’t known about until this moment.

“Waiting so pretty for us, baby. Such a good boy.” Yeosang instantly melts at the way Seonghwa’s voice is filled with the warmth and approval that he had been craving.

Seonghwa moves his hands downwards to cup his cheeks and Hongjoong finally pushes off the doorjamb to walk over to the pair. Yeosang looks up with rounded eyes, trying to silently plead for what his hyungs know he wants.

Hongjoong leans down to kiss his forehead before sliding past the two of them to the other side of the room. Yeosang whines as he realizes that Hongjoong has taken the box with him. His head is turned back by Seonghwa, holding him firm and making gentle shushing noises.

“You’re alright, sweetheart. He’s just going to test the keys while we talk, okay?”

His voice is soothing and Yeosang feels himself calm down. He trusts Hongjoong with his collar. He trusts Seonghwa when he says everything will be okay. He’s still vibrating with anticipation, but at least he can focus a bit better now.

“We’re gonna take this slow.” Seonghwa makes sure that Yeosang holds his eye contact. “You’ll just wear it for tonight, not doing anything too strenuous. Hongjoong and I will both have a key and you’ll keep one in your bag for emergencies only. Otherwise, only one of us will put it on or take it off, including switching to your day collar.”

Yeosang nods, not surprised by any of the information. They had discussed this all over the last week, but he’s also not surprised that Seonghwa wants to go over it again before he’s actually collared.

“You can wear it overnight for now, but you need to tell one of us right away if it gets uncomfortable or hard to breathe.” Seonghwa taps his cheek once. “Even if it’s only chafing you a little, tell us and we’ll figure it out together. Your health is always our first priority.”

Hongjoong finally walks back over. Yeosang knows he has the collar in his hand, but he wants to be good so badly. He uses every last vestige of will in his body to keep his eyes trained on Seonghwa. Seonghwa holds his eyes for a searing ten seconds that seem to stretch into an eternity. He suddenly smiles, breaking the tension. “Such a good boy for me.”

Yeosang releases a low sigh of relief as Hongjoong slides into the space Seonghwa had previously been occupying and gives him a considering look. “Can you repeat the rules for us, doll?”

“I’ll be careful while I wear my collar at first. Hongjoong-hyung and Seonghwa-hyung will keep the keys with them and I’ll have one for extreme situations only. An extreme situation is any time that my health is at risk or could potentially be put at risk.” Yeosang repeats, practiced from their many conversations. Hongjoong and Seonghwa look on in approval and Yeosang takes in a breath. “Only Hongjoong-hyung and Seonghwa-hyung will adjust my collar in any way, whether taking it off or putting it on.”

Yeosang swallows hard before the next bit, as necessary as he knows it is. His collar is perfect and it’s hard to admit that something unanticipated could happen. It’s why they had talked about this so much, getting Yeosang to see that his safety was more important than the collar and they would be committed to each other no matter what.

“If my collar makes me uncomfortable in any way I will tell Hongjoong-hyung and Seonghwa-hyung immediately. My health is hyungs’ first priority and I’m not being bad by prioritizing it.” He blinks a few times. “I belong to hyungs regardless of the collar’s presence as it serves as a physical reminder of our commitment.”

Yeosang looks between his boyfriends with wide eyes, hoping that he had remembered everything properly.

Surprisingly, Hongjoong cracks first, kissing his forehead and petting through his hair. “That’s perfect. I love you so much, angel.”

Seonghwa wraps his arms around Yeosang’s shoulder. “You did so well, remembered everything so well.” Yeosang nuzzles under Seonghwa’s chin, kneading his hands on his own thighs. “I think you’re ready now, baby.”

“Turn around.” Hongjoong’s tone leaves no room for argument. Not that Yeosang would want to argue.

Yeosang slowly shifts around so he’s kneeling in the opposite direction, back to his boyfriends. The position puts him directly facing the mirror above the dresser so he can still see what’s happening behind him.

Hongjoong lifts the collar from his side, slowly sliding the band around Yeosang’s neck. He feels the cool metal of the heart-shaped ring kiss his throat, the interior material running along his skin like water. Seonghwa intently watches the motion, keeping an eye on the mirror to keep track of Yeosang’s expressions.

His breath catches in his throat as the ends of the collar meet, tightening around him. Hongjoong tries the length on a few of the eyelets, figuring out which are too tight or loose. They settle on the second one, testing the give and resistance.

Yeosang feels hyperaware of every noise and movement in the room. Hongjoong and Seonghwa loom over him in the mirror, completely shielding his body from the now-closed doorway. The leather makes a low hissing noise as Hongjoong slides it through the buckle. The eyelet pops as the buckle’s tongue enters it for the first time.

Hongjoong gently adjusts the collar so the heart is centered. He slides his fingers underneath the band and Yeosang’s entire body shivers, gooseflesh spreading down his arms. Hongjoong checks that he can fit a finger under each part of the collar and looks to the side. Seonghwa takes the cue and does the same, double-checking Hongjoong’s work before nodding.

“How does that feel, baby?” Seonghwa asks.

Yeosang takes a moment to truly consider his answer. He can feel the collar wear it sits, the pressure constantly reminding him that it’s there. But it doesn’t feel restrictive and he takes a few deep breaths to double check. The resistance is a bit tighter as his chest expands, but in a good way. A way that makes him feel owned and cared for.

“Feels so good, hyungs.” His voice comes breathy and higher than normal.

Seonghwa nods in approval. “Your Hongjoong-hyung is going to lock it now.”

The words send a zing down his spine, anticipation twisting in his gut. Hongjoong takes the offered key from Seonghwa’s hand and brings it to the nape of his neck. Yeosang can’t see what he’s doing, but he can feel it. The smooth clink -ing of metal on metal as he fits the tongue's eyelet into the roller, the sharp click as he secures it in place, the rumbling as the short key slides into the opening. Finally, the snick as the key turns and the mechanism locks into place.

Almost immediately, the world around Yeosang goes muffled, narrowing to the rush of his breath, the slowing beat of his heart. Hongjoong and Seonghwa surround him on either side, whispering praises and words of love into his ears.

Yeosang watches the picture they make in the mirror as if from outside his body.

Sometime later, Yeosang shifts as he settles back into his bones.

“Hey sweetheart.” Hongjoong murmurs. “How do you feel?”

“I– so good, hyung. I feel like it was made for me.”

Seonghwa chuckles. “Do you feel up to a movie, maybe? We can cuddle and make some popcorn.”

That sounds nice to Yeosang. A night held close to his boyfriends, secure in his safety in their arms. In his belonging. He nods against Seonghwa’s chest.

“I’ll go get that started–” Hongjoong moves as if to detach himself from Yeosang’s back but Yeosang quickly snatches his wrist.

“Hyung don’t–” he cuts himself off. “Please, can we stay together?”

Hongjoong releases a breath and his arms re-tighten around Yeosang. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s all go together then.”

It’s kind of an awkward shuffle as they do their best to stick together on the way to the kitchen. Doorways are a struggle with three of them, but eventually Yeosang finds himself in a familiar position. He sits on the counter, Hongjoong between his legs as Seonghwa pulls out the things for the popcorn. Seonghwa had unceremoniously banned them both from the kitchen for the rest of the month after the meat incident last week.

Finally, they end up snuggled together on the coach under the largest blanket they own. Yeosang is seated sideways on Hongjoong’s lap, making himself as small as possible despite technically being taller than him. Seonghwa curls himself around them as the definite tallest of the trio, feeding Yeosang bites of popcorn.

Yeosang barely watches the new streaming romcom Hongjoong has queued up, instead enjoying the feeling of warmth and security in their little bubble.

With Hongjoong and Seonghwa surrounding him, collar heavy around his throat, and fuzzy sleepiness drifting on the edges of his awareness, Yeosang doesn’t know what else he could possibly want for.

He succumbs to sleep in the cocoon they’ve created, finally kept.

*

Luckily, Yeosang doesn’t need to leave the penthouse for the rest of the weekend. He responds to Wooyoung’s concerned messages with a few eggplant emojis which seems to quiet him. Temporarily, at least.

It’s not that he can’t go out, he just doesn’t want to take his collar off quite yet. It’s so new and he feels a strong attachment to it already.

Yeosang asks Seonghwa upwards of twenty times a day if he can check the delivery status of his day collar. Unfortunately, every time so far the In Transit message has blinked up at him sadly.

He’s spent the days mostly curled up with his boyfriends, Hongjoong having somehow maneuvered his schedule for a rare weekend off. But, much to Yeosang’s chagrin, he’s the one who has to work this time.

Finals wait for no man.

So, on Saturday afternoon he drags himself out of their bed and into the spare bedroom they had converted into Yeosang’s art studio. It had been one of the very first gifts he had been given after they became official, his boyfriends excitedly covering his eyes and surprising him with his own space.

He still has his canvas set up from the last time he had been working on this particular project here. It’s his final project for a senior course in alternative methods and Yeosang’s been putting it off all semester.

Subconsciously, Yeosang had thought he wouldn’t be able to concentrate with the collar on, too distracted and worked up. But oddly enough, he finds himself more productive than usual. The collar is a grounding presence, and he quickly finds his rhythm in the brushes and paints.

The sun gradually sets beyond the horizon of the large floor-to-ceiling window in the room. Hongjoong had told him once that they had picked it for that exact reason, to give him as much natural light as possible while he was working. He dabs a few more spots of yellow into a corner that was looking empty.

Seonghwa comes in to check on him a few times, asking about how his work is going and how the collar feels. He places a steaming mug of tea and a bowl of cut up fruit on the side table near him, telling Yeosang that he expects it to be finished by his next visit. Yeosang makes sure to take bites as he works.

The next time Seonghwa gently knocks and lets himself in, Yeosang is staring at his canvas with crossed arms.

“I think I just walked in on a fight.” Seonghwa playfully says. “Should I call for reinforcements?”

Yeosang breaks his staring contest with the painting to pout up at Seonghwa. His boyfriend just gives him an amused look before coming up behind Yeosang’s stool and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Yeosang gratefully leans back into Seonghwa’s chest.

“There’s something that’s not working and I can’t figure out what.” Yeosang explains at Seonghwa’s silent prompt. The assignment was to combine three untraditional techniques of creating they had worked with throughout the term onto one canvas or other project. He had worked with sand and knives and three-dimensional objects in this class, but nothing particularly spoke to him for this task.

He sighs, putting more of his weight onto Seonghwa, who steadily holds him up. “I’ve already used some dry materials and a different underpainting technique on this project, but I have no idea what my third one could be.”

Seonghwa hums in understanding as the two of them study the canvas for a few quiet minutes, only the sounds of their breathing filling up the space. Yeosang tries to match the rhythm of his breaths to Seonghwa’s.

The canvas is, so far, a swirling sea of warm colours. He wanted to go for the look of a desert, something vast with a sense of sublimity. It’s hard to achieve with a smaller canvas and he wishes now he had chosen something larger , something that would physically impose the scale he’s looking for.

But, he thinks of Hongjoong, who can terrify men even triple his size. Dominance fills all 172 centimeters of him, makes his presence command every room he walks into. Yeosang thinks of Seonghwa too, the quieter type of power he wields. The way just one soft-spoken word or angle of his eyebrow can have the same effect. The sublimity comes from the way they create potential.

Yeosang still has no idea how to transfer that feeling to his assignment, though.

Seonghwa soothingly strokes up and down his arms. “A few weeks ago you were talking to Hongjoong about a performance art piece you saw on campus. I don’t know much about art, but that would certainly grab attention.”

Of course. Art is about destruction as much as it is creation.

“Hyung, you’re a genius!” Yeosang springs out of his seat, dislodging Seonghwa’s hands and spinning around. “I have to destroy it! That’ll create the perfect effect of the sublime.” Something Hongjoong said a few months ago rings in his head. You have to take something apart to truly understand it. Destruction and creation work hand in hand.

Seonghwa looks bemused. “I’m not quite sure I’m following, but I’m happy to help.”

Yeosang throws his arms around Seonghwa’s waist, burrowing his head into the other man’s chest. “You help me more than you know.”

“Oh, my sweet baby.” Seonghwa leans down so his head is resting against Yeosang’s own, nuzzling it a few times. Yeosang feels the metal of his collar press into his skin as he’s held closer. “Do you feel up to going out tonight?”

Yeosang pulls back enough to see Seonghwa’s face. His hair is down right now, unstyled and sweeping over his forehead. “Where would we be going? I don’t want to take my collar off.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Seonghwa gently smiles. “I have to check on something at Illusion , you can wear your collar there if you’d like to.”

Yeosang immediately perks up at the mention of Illusion . He loves his former workplace and he doesn’t get to go there nearly enough lately. Seonghwa likes to be with him if he’s going to a club these days, which Yeosang doesn’t really blame him for. It just makes it hard to see his old friends at Illusion or go out with Wooyoung. But, they typically enjoy a game night in their apartment better anyways, so it’s not such a big deal to him.

“I’d like that a lot,” Yeosang nods eagerly and Seonghwa chuckles.

“Alright then. Hyung will dress you up so prettily.”

Yeosang’s eyes go wide as Seonghwa’s hand trails up his back and over his neck. “Thank you, hyung.”

*

They arrive at Illusion just a few hours later. Seonghwa had dressed him in a slightly sheer black tank top and a black pleated skirt that ended halfway up his thighs. He added chunky boots and some dark accessories.

He doesn’t typically wear skirts, but Seonghwa had encouraged him to branch out early on in their shopping trips. You never know what you’ll like until you try it , he would say. I’ll buy you whatever you like and you can wear it when you’re ready . He made it so simple for Yeosang and soon enough Seonghwa was dressing him in all sorts of things he had never considered before.

Yeosang had wondered why Seonghwa had kept the outfit entirely black until he looked in the mirror. The darkness of his outfit was broken up by the bright white of his collar, almost shining against his skin.

The effect was stark and the message was clear. Yeosang was taken.

Yunho greets them at the door as usual, this time adding an extra greeting for Hongjoong who currently has his arm wrapped around Yeosang’s waist, holding him tight to his side. They’re led to the typical partitioned VIP section, but Yeosang is surprised when Seonghwa gestures for Yunho to bring them upstairs instead. Seonghwa prefers to be on the floor most nights, in the booth that Yeosang has come to think of as his. They do come to this area occasionally, but Yeosang didn’t know that tonight was that kind of night. The kind of night where he wants to keep them tucked away.

At the top of the stairway is a balconied area that overlooks the writhing crowds and glowing lights of Illusion . It’s much more private and extremely exclusive, only a few tables scattered about with even fewer being occupied. Instead of booths, tables are surrounded by plush chairs and couches and sectioned off by curtains.

They’re brought to a table near the front of the section that Seonghwa usually chooses so he can watch over the club from above. There’s one loveseat and an armchair around a low glass table. Hongjoong guides him to the loveseat, sitting next to him and shifting his arm to pull Yeosang close around his shoulders instead. He’s absently grateful for the warmth since the tanktop leaves his shoulders bare and slightly cold.

Seonghwa stays standing as Yunho bows and moves a few steps out of earshot. “I’m going to have to go with Yunho for a bit.” Seonghwa explains. Yeosang feels like it’s probably more for his benefit than Hongjoong’s.

“You’ll be back soon?” Yeosang rounds out his eyes in a way he knows Seonghwa can’t resist.

“I’ll be back before you even know I’m gone.” Seonghwa drops a final kiss on his forehead and one to Hongjoong’s lips before disappearing behind yet another door with Yunho.

Yeosang snuggles further into Hongjoong’s side and turns his head on Hongjoong’s shoulder so he can stare at him. Not for any particular reason, he should just be allowed to admire his boyfriend sometimes.

Hongjoong tolerates the staring for a full two-minutes before he breaks. “What is it, doll?”

“I like looking at you.”

Hongjoong huffs a laugh. “I should be saying that to you.”

“We can stare at each other then.” Yeosang nods as solemnly as he can with his cheek still smushed into Hongjoong’s shoulder.

“Mm, is that what we’re doing tonight?” Hongjoong’s free hand starts a slow crawl up Yeosang’s thigh, stroking over the bare skin that his skirt doesn’t reach.

“We can do whatever you want, hyung.” Yeosang shivers as Hongjoong’s hand moves inward instead of upward. His thighs automatically spread the tiniest bit to give the other man better access.

Their usual bartender chooses that moment to appear with their drinks, apologizing for the delay. He politely averts his eyes when he notices their position and Yeosang quickly hides his face behind Hongjoong’s shoulder, letting his boyfriend watch the drinks being made instead. The bartender goes as quickly as he can, waiting for Hongjoong to dismiss him.

“Draw the curtains on your way out,” he says in lieu of a dismissal.

Yeosang stays quiet as the bartender bows and walks around the section to pull the curtains shut. They’re left enclosed in the space, lit only by a dim overhead and a flickering candle on the glass table. He can still feel the bass of the music pumping, but it’s become muffled as they’re sequestered in their own little pocked world.

“Hyungggg–” Yeosang dramatically groans once the curtain has been fully secured.

Hongjoong strokes a hand over his hair. “Don’t be embarrassed, doll. Everyone here already knows who you belong to.”

Yeosang shudders, pressing himself harder into Hongjoong’s side.

“How about you get my drink for me and we can pick up where we left off.”

Happy for the excuse to do something, Yeosang gets up to reach over to where the bartender left their drinks. He brings Hongjoong’s whiskey back with him, but leaves his own mocktail untouched. Hongjoong whistles through his teeth at the compromising angle the position has left him in, skirt riding up his thighs where he’s bent over the table.

“That’s dangerous, sweetheart.” Yeosang blushes and quickly makes his way back to Hongjoong’s side.

He goes to take his previous position, but Hongjoong tsks and gestures for where he wants him. Yeosang carefully rests one knee on the cushion before swinging his other leg over, straddling Hongjoong’s lap while still balancing his drink.

Hongjoong moves his hips so Yeosang is resting his full weight on his thighs and plucks the whiskey out of his hand, taking a lingering sip. “Want to try some?”

Yeosang eyes the glass warily. He’s never been one for hard liquors, especially straight and neat the way Hongjoong likes it. But, Hongjoong also rarely offers to share his expensive stuff, so Yeosang nods eagerly.

He goes for the glass, but Hongjoong moves it out of his reach.

“Come here, baby.” He says instead.

Yeosang is confused since Hongjoong just offered, but he’ll never deny kisses either. He leans further into Hongjoong’s space, tilting his head to properly kiss him when Hongjoong halts his motion with a hand on his chest. Yeosang watches as he takes a sip of the whiskey and slides his hand up to his face, tilting it so Yeosang is angled upwards.

Their lips meet, Yeosang automatically parting his to let Hongjoong in. When Hongjoong opens his lips, Yeosang feels a rush of liquid, almost panicking a bit before he tastes the smoke on his tongue. Hongjoong pulls away enough for Yeosang to close his mouth.

“Swallow.” It’s not a request.

The whiskey burns as it goes down, flaring in his chest and hitting his stomach. He watches as a stray bead of whiskey drips out of the corner of Hongjoong’s mouth and down his chin. He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but Yeosang leans in and licks it off, swallowing that down too.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong curses under his breath and harshly pulls him in by the nape of his neck.

Yeosang moans into the kiss, the taste of whiskey fresh in both of their mouths. The kiss is hot and wet, uncontrolled in opposition to the way Hongjoong usually kisses him. Yeosang feels messy and fuzzy around the edges as Hongjoong slides his hand to the front of Yeosang’s neck and hooks his fingers into his collar.

His breath catches, stuttering around the kiss as he gasps into Hongjoong’s mouth and grinds downwards.

“Hard already, sweet thing?” He murmurs against Yeosang’s lips.

“ Yes , I– hyung, please,” is all Yeosang can get out in his current state.

“You said whatever I wanted earlier, right?”

Yeosang doesn’t waste any time before nodding hopefully. “Whatever hyung wants.”

“What if hyung wants to fuck you? Right here.”

As concerned as he was earlier, Yeosang can’t imagine why now that they’re enclosed in their perfect little bubble. “Hyung– Hwa-hyung he–”

Yeosang cuts himself off around another moan as Hongjoong tugs on his collar again. “Oh? What did our Seonghwa do?” he asks with amusement.

“A surprise–” Yeosang can’t think around the way Hongjoong is still playing with his collar. “Surprise for hyung.”

“Why don’t you show me then, angel.”

Yeosang shakily grabs the whiskey from the hand that isn’t holding onto his collar and places it a little too hard on the table behind him. He grabs Hongjoong’s hand again and guides it down to the hem of his skirt, ushering it up, up, up.

He lets go of the hand once Hongjoong makes it to the underside of his ass, needing to hold on to not lose his balance. Hongjoong stops there for a moment, squeezing and kneading at the flesh before Yeosang is begging him to move further.

Yeosang feels the exact moment that Hongjoong finds it, his breath catching. Hongjoong presses against the plug and Yeosang shakes with the pleasure it brings.

“When did Hwa have the time to sneak this in, doll?” His voice is no longer unaffected, soft at the edges.

“Y-you were showering. Hyung told me to surprise you later.”

Hongjoong presses more firmly against the plug over the fabric of his underwear. “Well, I’ll just have to thank him later for the pretty present.”

Yeosang nods, grinding his hips. The angle is just off enough that it doesn’t give any relief to his aching cock, only pushing him further into Hongjoong’s unrelenting hand.

“ Please ,” Yeosang gasps out.

Hongjoong raises an eyebrow, grabs his ass. “My doll knows how to ask politely.”

Yeosang inhales, trying to find the right words. The right words that will make Hongjoong take mercy on him. “Can I– can I have hyung’s cock, please?”

“Did Hwa give you any lube, baby?” Hongjoong asks.

He takes a shuddery breath as he nods, reaching behind himself as Hongjoong keeps him steady. When he produces the packet from his boot, Hongjoong chuckles in amusement.

“Only Hwa.” He laughs. “Alright baby, why don’t you put that to good use and ride me like a good boy?”

Yeosang moans at the thought. He wants to be good for Hongjoong so badly, wants to show him how good he can make him feel. He shuffles himself backwards on Hongjoong’s thighs so he can reach the zipper of his slacks. As he pops the button, Hongjoong moves his panties aside to pull at the plug.

He tugs it out a few centimeters, before slamming it back in, over and over again. Yeosang groans at the stimulation, shuddering as his boyfriend continues to fuck him with the plug.

Hongjoong hums. “I gave you a task, angel.”

Yeosang realizes he’s been clutching Hongjoong’s shoulders and panting as he fucks in and out of his hole. He quickly gets back to task, pulling Hongjoong’s cock out of his boxers with a shaky hand.

He’s still clutching the lube packet so he strokes Hongjoong’s cock dry one time before letting go to open it up. His hands are quivering too much to get a solid rip, so Yeosang brings the foil up to his mouth in frustration and tears it open on his teeth. A little lube gets in his mouth, but it’s worth it for the hungry look that sparks in Hongjoong’s eyes.

Yeosang squeezes the lube onto Hongjoong’s cock, coating it with his hand as he pumps it a few times. Finally, Hongjoong takes the plug out completely with a pop and discards it somewhere on the floor. He’s sure Seonghwa will scold them for that later, but Yeosang doesn’t have a chance to worry before Hongjoong’s shoving two fingers into his hole.

“So wet for me, baby.” Hongjoong whispers into the space between them. Yeosang knows he means the generous amount of lube that Seonghwa had used on him earlier, but he also knows it’s true based on the way his cock has been straining and leaking this entire time. He’s suddenly grateful that Seonghwa dressed him in black.

Hongjoong slips in a third finger, but Yeosang is too desperate. Now that Hongjoong’s cock has been sufficiently coated, Yeosang makes his plea. “Hyung, I– I’m ready.”

The other man groans and nods, giving him silent permission.

Yeosang shuffles forward again and rises on his knees. He grips Hongjoong’s cock as his boyfriend slips his fingers out and holds his panties aside to help line him up. They both moan as Yeosang slips down onto his head. The slide down burns in the best way. His thighs are shaking and his breaths are coming fast when he finally bottoms out.

Yeosang sits there for a moment, letting his body adjust as his bare thighs rest against the fabric of Hongjoong’s slacks. The way that his skirt hides what’s going on from them, makes it ten times hotter, like something illicit, revealed only by the obscene bulge that Yeosang’s hard cock makes.

“Such a good boy,” Hongjoong says. He hooks a finger in the heart-shaped ring of Yeosang’s collar and pulls him closer. They trade heated kisses until Yeosang feels settled enough to experimentally grind down his hips. Hongjoong breaks the kiss with a groan and pats Yeosang’s thigh with his free hand.

He slowly lifts himself up on shaky thighs so that most of Hongjoong’s cock is exposed to the hot air, before dropping down again. He does it a few more times while finding his rhythm, adjusting his position so Hongjoong is angled towards his prostate. When he finally hits the angle just-right, Yeosang sees stars.

He starts bouncing in earnest, forcing himself to keep up a steady rhythm despite the way his legs feel like they’ll give out at any moment. They messily kiss as Yeosang moves, more tongue than anything else.

Hongjoong supports his pace with both hands on his thighs. Though he’s grateful for the help, Yeosang does take a moment to mourn the loss of Hongjoong’s hand on his collar before losing himself in the rhythm again.

His thighs are burning and there’s sweat dripping down his back, the thin tank top sticking to his skin. Yeosang feels Hongjoong moving in and out of him, dragging against his prostate on every bounce. He’s so achingly hard, leaking against the fabric of his panties where his cock is still trapped. The flame of the candle shudders as he moves, bathing the space in flickering orange light.

Yeosang pants against Hongjoong’s mouth, struggling to catch his breath. The burn aches so good, spreading through his body. He’s so caught up in the moment, that he doesn’t realize when the light momentarily changes as the curtains move enough to let another body in.

Hands slide around Yeosang’s shoulders and breath fans across his ear.

“Well isn’t this a pretty sight to come back to?” Seonghwa’s low voice comments. He grasps Yeosang’s jaw, tilts his head upwards. “Did Joong-ah like our little surprise, baby?”

Yeosang nods as best he can with Seonghwa’s grip on his jaw. He’s standing behind Yeosang, now taking his weight and making it a lot easier to keep up a steady rhythm. Seonghwa’s hold tightens.

“Words, sweetheart.”

He tries his best to think of what to say, of any word at all, but language seems to elude his consciousness. Especially as Seonghwa forces him to stare into his eyes with his tight grip, as he continues to move up and down on Hongjoong’s cock.

“Poor baby.” Seonghwa’s voice is saccharine as he shifts his grip to tap Yeosang’s lips twice with his thumb. “Too dumb to speak when he’s taking cock so well, hm?”

Hongjoong’s hands clench around his thighs. “He’s been so good for me.” His voice is low and breathless. “You always did give the best gifts, darling.”

“I do.” Seonghwa’s voice is smug. “I didn’t know if you would wait until we got home to unwrap it though.” The way his boyfriends are talking about him as if he’s just another present in their collection, sends electricity shooting down Yeosang’s spine and straight into his cock. Seonghwa’s free hand trails down Yeosang’s chest, splaying across his stomach.

Hongjoong grunts, presumably getting closer and closer to his peak. Seonghwa’s left hand is toying with his collar, tightening it and letting go in turns that make Yeosang’s blood sing, while his right travels, hiking up his tank top and sliding against his heated skin.

It doesn’t take long after that for Hongjoong to tense up, biting out a low warning before spilling inside him. Yeosang keeps riding until Seonghwa gentles him by stroking up and down his stomach. He slumps down in Hongjoong's lap as two sets of arms settle around him.

Yeosang feels the hot pulse of cum inside of him, the hands that sooth every inch of skin they can reach, the brush of Hongjoong’s lips against his forehead. Eventually, Seonghwa settles on the couch beside Hongjoong, maneuvering Yeosang into his own lap. The rush of cum down his thighs is vaguely uncomfortable as Hongjoong’s cock leaves him, but he doesn’t have it in him to mind right now.

One of Seonghwa’s hands moves downward to gently cup Yeosang’s cock through the layers of fabric. Yeosang had completely forgotten about his own pleasure through the haze, but the ache suddenly comes back tenfold now that Seonghwa has drawn attention back to it. He weakly hiccoughs into Seonghwa’s neck.

“Oh, this looks so uncomfortable,” Seonghwa gently coos. “Your hyung was so mean to you, wasn’t he?”

“Hey–” Hongjoong weakly protests, but Yeosang interrupts before he can continue.

“N-no,” he mumbles. “Wanted hyung to feel good.”

Seonghwa instantly softens. “Of course you did. Our good boy.” Yeosang melts at the words. “Your hyung should make you feel good now, though. Would you like that, baby?”

He does. He would really really like that. “Yes please.”

Hongjoong smiles at him. “I’ll take care of you.”

He moves downwards, angling himself to be at eye-level with Yeosang’s lower half, thankfully made easier by his elevated position on Seonghwa’s lap. When Hongjoong finally pulls his panties off and over his boots, the relief on his cock is stark as it springs free. Hongjoong doesn’t waste any time diving under his skirt, quickly taking Yeosang in his mouth as he’s wont to do.

Yeosang softly moans and cries into Seonghwa’s neck, the pleasure overwhelming after so long of neglecting it. Seonghwa strokes his hair, whispering words of praise into his skin. Telling him how well he’s doing, how he can let go now.

It only takes a few more minutes and a calculated tug at his collar by Seonghwa before Yeosang is coming hard enough that his vision blackens around the edges. The orgasm comes over him so quickly that Yeosang doesn’t have time to warn Hongjoong. He tries pulling at Hongjoong’s head to tell him that he doesn’t need to stay, but Hongjoong holds firm, working him through it with his tongue.

“It’s alright, baby.” Seonghwa shushes him, grabbing his wrists. “Let him make you feel good.”

Yeosang instantly melts against Seonghwa’s body, the protest draining out of him. Soon enough he’s wriggling at the overstimulation on his soft cock and Hongjoong pulls off. Yeosang immediately tries to pull him closer, forgetting that his hands are still being held by Seonghwa and whining when he remembers.

Hongjoong seems to know what he needs, though, and he leans in to kiss him softly. Their mouths move together slowly while Yeosang is still resting against Seonghwa’s chest and he feels himself become more grounded as time goes on.

When Seonghwa feels Yeosang is stable enough, he gestures for Hongjoong to grab a few napkins off of the table.

“Hyung,” Yeosang suddenly realizes the damp feeling of leaking cum on his lower half in a slight panic. “I think I ruined your pants.”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong exchange a look, laughing at his mournful tone. Seonghwa kisses the crown of his head. “Sweet thing.”

Yeosang doesn’t think the dry-cleaning bill will be sweet , or come unashamed, but he lets his boyfriends soothe him anyways, losing himself in the lulling words they whisper.

*

Yeosang is currently running on three hours of sleep, a weird herbal drink Seonghwa had made for him, and pure adrenaline.

He spent the last week perfecting the epiphany he had when Seonghwa visited his studio and now it was finally time to present it for critique. Yeosang finally emerged from the depths of newspapers, paint, and red tape with a product that he was proud to be showing to his peers and professors.

Throughout the week he had also presented all of his other final pieces, going through the motions of the cycle with ease after four years of it. This class is his last one and he can finally see graduation on the horizon.

Yeosang chats with a few friends on the way in, lugging his canvas with him and setting it up on the specialized stand he had also had to create. This stand had a large gap in it, enough to reveal a big red taped circle on the back of the canvas.

He had checked and double-checked (and triple-checked) the dimensions of what he had already painted, taking a knife to the woven-fabric of his already painted-on canvas. He had practiced breaking apart newspapers, enlisting Seonghwa to hold them while Hongjoong commented on his form from the couch. He had prepared as much as he possibly could and now all he could do was cross his fingers that everything went to plan.

Yeosang is the last presenter of the day, anxiously tapping his foot as two other students present before him. He can’t help but glance over to his canvas, making sure that the newspaper is seamless with the rest of the work.

He knows it is, had asked his boyfriends a million times if they could tell where the hole was, but he can’t help but run his eye over it again and again. The surprise is the anchoring force of this project.

Yeosang’s hand drifts up to his neck, seeking the comfort of his collar that he’s gotten used to lately. Instead, his hand catches on a necklace, one of Seonghwa’s with a pearl charm on it. His day collar still hadn’t been delivered (and he couldn’t exactly wear the obvious white one to class), but now Yeosang felt anxious to leave the house without something to anchor him. So, Hongjoong had suggested wearing some of their jewellery pieces in the meantime, treating them with the same protocol they would for their specially bought pieces.

Every day since then, Yeosang would raid one of his boyfriends’ jewellery collections, most often landing on some sort of tight necklace, but occasionally presenting a bracelet or sparkly set of earrings to Hongjoong, instead. True to his word, Hongjoong would take the proffered piece and bind it to Yeosang’s body with the same love and care he used for his collar. Even though these choices were regular, albeit expensive, pieces with no locks, Yeosang felt the click of one deep inside anyways.

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but he found comfort in carrying a piece of his boyfriends with him like this until his day collar arrived.

The class spends half an hour critiquing the second presenter, Yeosang tuning in long enough to give a few comments on her twisted metallic project and earn his participation grades. Finally, the professor thanks the girl at the front and calls Yeosang to the front.

He takes a deep breath and maneuvers his canvas to the centre of the space. “I based my final project on the concept of the sublime, mostly as defined by Kant, but pulling inspiration from other thinkers as well–”

Yeosang talks, going through the points he had endlessly rehearsed. He points out the techniques and finer details of what he had created, connecting it to the things they had learned during the term. The cool-toned flag in the middle of the vast warm desert gives the impression of something out of its depth, lost in the magnanimous natural force. But, someone must have left it there on purpose, as it stands straight up and unrelenting in the harsh climate.

Once he’s finished talking, Yeosang gathers his courage and circles around to the back of his displayed canvas, drawing some confused looks from the others in the room. He carefully aligns himself with the taped red circle, remembering everything Hongjoong had told him.

Yeosang draws his arm back and punches straight through the aligned newspaper, right where the small blue flag sits on the other side, upright no longer.

*

He feels giddy after class, everything going exactly to plan. He finished off on a high after basically destroying all his hard work and the critique period felt less painful than usual. As soon as he’s out into the warm summer light, he pulls up his group chat with boyfriends, rapidly sending off excited messages.

While his professor was a stoic man, Yeosang thought his voice was less stony than usual and his classmates congratulated him on the effort afterwards. The performance aspect had turned out even better than he had hoped, even drawing some surprised gasps. When he rounded the canvas again, the hole was punched almost perfectly, splintered so that the flag hung limply to the side. It magnified the effect he was going for and worked well with the closing segment he had prepared.

His phone buzzes with a string of heart emojis from Seonghwa and a few messages, I knew you would do perfectly. I’m so proud of you. Yeosang grins down at his phone as he makes his way in the direction of his apartment, probably looking a bit crazy.

He’s giddy by the time Hongjoong’s message comes through. I wish I could have seen the looks on their faces. Have fun with your friends tonight, angel.

Yeosang quickly snaps a selfie in a thumbs up pose and sends it through as he stops at a crosswalk. For his troubles he receives back a cute selfie of Seonghwa holding up a matching thumbs up in the backseat of a car, which Yeosang instantly saves. Not one to be left out, Hongjoong sends back a picture of his hand in the same pose, but taken from under his desk. Even with the slightly awkward angle, Yeosang zooms in on the details he can see. The veins protruding from the back of his hand and the excessive amount of rings make his mouth go dry. He only realizes that the light has turned green when a few other pedestrians hurry past him onto the crosswalk and Yeosang quickly closes his phone and restarts his walk home.

Wooyoung’s already waiting for him when he unlocks the door to their apartment, barely letting him take off his shoes before dragging Yeosang to the blanket on the floor that is currently serving as their couch.

Yeosang feels weirdly nostalgic as he takes in the space. It’s entirely empty of furniture now, something he hadn’t realized with the plenty of nights he’s been spending with his boyfriends lately. All that’s left is the boxes he and Wooyoung had painstakingly stacked against the walls, turning their shared space into a maze of cardboard. Yeosang knows his room looks much the same, though he’s leaving his second-hand bedroom set to the next tenants since he won’t need it anymore.

He debriefs Wooyoung on his final presentation, telling him all about the surprise he had caused in the seminar room. Excitedly, Wooyoung tells him about the culinary final he also had today in detail, going over everything from the precise ingredients he used to the exact critiques and praises his professors had given.

They find themselves laying side by side on the padded blanket, staring at the chipping popcorn ceiling.

Yeosang finally puts to words what he’s been feeling this entire time. “I’m gonna miss it here,” he says softly. “I’m gonna miss you .”

Wooyoung’s gaze stays fixed on the ceiling, which Yeosang is grateful for. “We’ll still see each other, Sangie.”

“I know,” he tries to articulate his thoughts. “I think I’m scared for everything to change. You’ve always been right around the corner when I’ve needed you.”

“So have you,” Wooyoung says. “We’ll just learn to be there for each other in a different way from now on.”

But, Yeosang thinks it’s a bit more than that. “I don’t want you to disappear. I don’t want to disappear on you, either.”

Wooyoung reaches out to take Yeosang’s hand, squeezing his palm. “I won’t ever let that happen.” He finally turns his head to face Yeosang. “I will annoy you ‘til the day we die, Kang Yeosang.”

Yeosang squeezes his hand back, turns his own head. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Wooyoung grins. “Now let’s make us look hot .”

Yeosang groans, but internally he thinks he’s happier than ever to have a best friend like Wooyoung.

*

A few hours, and a few piles of clothes, later finds San knocking at their door. Wooyoung eagerly answers the door while Yeosang sends his own boyfriends a fit check. The string of hearts he gets in return makes him grin.

Wooyoung drags him out the door and into San’s car, whining that they’re going to be late. They don’t have reservations, but Wooyoung is too excited for logic.

They pull up outside of a club in a nicer area of Seoul, deciding to splurge on the cover and drinks since the three of them were now officially done with university. A sort of last hurrah before their graduation ceremony over the weekend. Seonghwa had a beautiful bespoke midnight blue tuxedo made for him as a gift which, after having to get over the price tag of, Yeosang couldn’t wait to wear.

San drops them off, leaving them to wait in line while he finds a spot for the car. Wooyoung drags Yeosang into a few pictures, creating some truly artful Instagram stories while they wait.

“Ha!” Wooyoung suddenly exclaims, shoving his phone in Yeosang’s face. “Your sugar daddies already viewed it.”

Yeosang looks over incredulously, knowing neither of his boyfriends even have social media because of the security risks it would pose. “Neither of them have insta, Woo. I don’t even think Hongjoong-hyung knows what a story is.”

“But whenever we’re out, the same burner always views my stories within, like, ten seconds. The account doesn’t even follow me!”

Yeosang rolls his eyes. “It could literally be anyone. You know you’re popular on campus.”

“So true,” Wooyoung agrees. “But! The account never views my stuff if we’re not together. You’d think they’d at least know to make a realistic burner.”

Yeosang watches as Wooyoung scrolls through the empty account. No profile picture, following nobody, with six followers that all look like variations of the same generic porn bots.

“This person obviously doesn’t know how to use the app,” Yeosang tries to defend. “It looks like they don’t even know how to block the bots.”

“Exactly!” Wooyoung is triumphant. “How often do you check your story viewers?”

Yeosang is thrown off by the question. “I don’t know, I really only pay attention to the likes, I guess?”

Wooyoung nods like he had been expecting this. “Post literally anything right now, they’ll be the first viewer, I know it.”

“I don’t know, Woo. I’m sure it’s just a random account.”

“C’mon, Sangie!” Wooyoung needles. “It’s harmless! Just repost my story, I already tagged you.”

Yeosang can’t argue there, especially considering he was already planning on reposting Wooyoung’s story anyways. So, he navigates to their DM’s, adding a few emojis and reposting the selfie onto his own account.

Wooyoung snatches his phone, refreshing his page a few times while waiting for it to post. The line has moved forward a bit as they’ve been arguing and they’re almost halfway through now.

Once the story has successfully posted, Wooyoung holds out a whole thirty seconds before checking the viewer list.

“There it is!” Wooyoung is close to shouting. “Sangie, it’s the same account!”

With trepidation, Yeosang leans over Wooyoung’s shoulder to see. Sure enough, the exact same string of random numbers and letters is listed as the very first viewer of his story.

“Huh,” is all Yeosang can say.

Before he can think much more on it, San is slipping into line with them and asking, “Did I miss anything interesting?”

Yeosang cuts Wooyoung’s answer off with a firm no , taking his phone back and slipping it into his pocket. He’s not bothered by the thought that one (or both) of his boyfriends may be keeping tabs on him through social media. He already knows they keep tabs on him in… other ways that Yeosang doesn’t think too hard about.

In fact, Yeosang finds it quite endearing. That they care about him enough to badly cyber-stalk him. He probably shouldn’t blush at the thought, but if he does, it’s dark enough out that no one will ever know.

San’s easy enough to distract by asking him about how his own packing process is going, which starts him on a tangent on his messy roommates and how he hopes they don’t lose the deposit because of them. Soon enough, they’re at the front of the line scrambling for their IDs in their pockets.

The bouncer looks vaguely annoyed by their lack of preparation, but he waves Wooyoung and San through easily enough. Yeosang fiddles with the pearl charm on his necklace as he hands his own ID over. The bouncer looks between the card and Yeosang a few times, squinting in the dim lighting.

“This is you?” He asks, losing the annoyed look in his eye.

“Yes?” Yeosang answers, unsure. Even though he knows full well that’s his real ID, he’s of legal age, and he looks exactly like his picture, he can’t help but get nervous every time a bouncer questions him on it.

“Is there a problem?” Wooyoung asks from where he’s standing just inside the doorway. Yeosang appreciates the help, but he hopes his tone won’t get them kicked out for the night. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.

The bouncer gives one last hard look at Yeosang’s ID before handing it back to him. “Have a good night,” is all he says. As Yeosang slips his card back into his wallet, he vaguely notices the bouncer gesturing to the hostess waiting to take their cover before turning back to his next guest.

San makes it to the hostess first, telling her that he’ll cover for the three of them, like they had agreed on before. Yeosang will send him his portion later.

The hostess pleasantly smiles at the three of them, eyes lingering just a second too long on Yeosang. “That won’t be necessary, sir.” She tells San. “Please, go on through.”

San looks back at them in bewilderment, Wooyoung and Yeosang wearing matching expressions. The cover fee for this particular club is steep and they had been prepared to splurge as a special occasion. Wooyoung, by far the most adaptable of the group, just shrugs and drags San through the door, sending a bright “Thanks!” to the hostess over his shoulder.

Yeosang pauses for half a beat longer and he swears that between blinks her perfect customer-service smile turns strained. He quickly thanks her and hurries after his friends, wondering what exactly had just happened.

The three of them link arms as they navigate through the crowds, trying to find an empty table. They dodge trays of drinks and skirt around the dance floor to the dimmer area of tables to the side. Luck must be on their side tonight because they find an empty hightop, clear of people, drinks, and bags. Wooyoung quickly drops his grip on San, darting forward and expertly weaving through outstretched arms to claim the table before anyone else can.

Yeosang and San move slower, joining Wooyoung at the table a few minutes later after having to fight through a group of giggling girls.

When they finally make it to the table, Wooyoung doesn’t waste any time getting to business. “Rock, paper, scissors for who gets the first round?”

San throws rock while both Yeosang and Wooyoung throw scissors. San smiles triumphantly as he leans back in his seat. Yeosang really doesn’t want to navigate through the crowd again, so he tries to read the intention on Wooyoung’s face. His best friend wiggles his eyebrows and leans in closer.

“I’ll give you a hint,” he says over the music. “I’m doing paper next.”

Ugh, Yeosang hates when Wooyoung does this. It’s a toss up whether he’ll actually throw paper and he wants Yeosang to think he’ll do the opposite or if he’ll throw the opposite and wants Yeosang to think he’s not. Either way, it’s too much mental gymnastics for him.

Wooyoung counts them down and Yeosang throws out two fingers.

“Aww, Sangie!” Wooyoung exclaims while gently tapping Yeosang’s scissors with his closed fist. “You’re too trusting! Why do you always fall for that?”

Wooyoung is swinging his legs underneath the table, accidentally nailing Yeosang in the shin a few times, adding injury to insult. Yeosang shrugs, laughing along with the other two. “Okay, okay, I get it. What do you guys want?”

Yeosang taps their drink orders out in his notes app and warns them that he better not find them making out by the time he gets back. San looks sheepish but Wooyoung just salutes him with mischief in his eyes.

He slowly but steadily makes his way to the main bar of the club. The crowd shifts and presses in around him and Yeosang has to dodge more clumsy limbs that he’d like to. He thinks maybe he’s been a little spoiled by usually coming to places like this on Seonghwa’s arm, escorted and undisturbed through the throng.

When he makes it through the thickest part of the crowd, the bar is finally in his sight. The lights catch and dance off of the mirror that serves as the backing of the liquor wall and the bartenders hurry around. There’s something vaguely familiar about the scene, but he’s been to enough upscale clubs with Seonghwa that they all blur together.

Yeosang finds an empty spot at the bar, squeezing in between a few people who are chatting while they wait for their drinks. The counter is smooth against his elbows where he leans forward, made out of something dark that reflects the light, giving the effect that the neon glare is coming from within it.

A bartender slides over to him before he can even attempt to flag someone down. He’s probably only a few years older than Yeosang with a row of piercings studded in each ear. He has a pleasant smile in place, but like the hostess from earlier, there’s a slight edge to it.

“What’ll it be?” The man asks.

Yeosang shouts Wooyoung and San’s orders over the pulse of the music, but the bartender turns to grab bottles off the shelf before he can get out his own. It’s fine, he’ll just add another drink to the order once he gets back. But, strangely, the man places three glasses out on the mixing counter. Yeosang watches him work, accidentally catching the eye of another waiter off to the side who is also observing the bartender. Some pieces slowly start to click together in Yeosang’s mind as he thinks back on the events of the night.

Quicker than he can tell, the bartender is back and sliding the three drinks onto a tray in front of him. Yeosang shakes himself out of his thoughts, digging in his pocket for his wallet. “Thanks, I’ll do credit.”

The bartender shakes his head, giving Yeosang a more genuine smile. “It’s on the house tonight.”

Before Yeosang can process the words, the bartender is sliding away, already taking the next customer’s order. In a daze, Yeosang grabs the tray and makes his way back to the table, barely registering the trek through the crowd this time. Thankfully, Wooyoung and San aren’t making out—even though they’re definitely crowding each other’s space.

Wooyoung gulps down half of his cocktail as soon as Yeosang sets the tray down. But, San catches his confused expression. “Did something happen?” he asks.

 “Who do I need to fight?” Wooyoung’s head snaps over to Yeosang at the question and he slams his glass onto the table, harder than is strictly necessary. His tone is more excited than it probably should be.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Yeosang reassures. “The bartender just didn’t charge me.”

San looks relieved and Wooyoung cackles loud enough to be shrill over the music. “I love having hot friends!” He exclaims. San takes a long sip of his drink.

Yeosang fondly rolls his eyes. Wooyoung acts like he’s not usually the hot friend of the group, charming unsuspecting patrons into buying them rounds. Yeosang can tell Wooyoung’s not going to stop his crowing any time soon, so Yeosang shoos him and San off to the dance floor, telling them that he’ll hold down the table for a little while (and that San should dance off some of the alcohol before he drives them home, which neither of them can argue with).

Once they’re gone, Yeosang pulls all three drinks closer to himself, making sure to keep an eye on them as he pulls out his phone. It's a force of habit from many nights out with Wooyoung, but he has a feeling he won’t need to worry about that here.

He pulls up his texts with Seonghwa, sending a simple message, this club is one of yours, isn’t it hyung.

It’s barely a minute before Yeosang’s phone pings with a reply, I wanted you to have fun tonight. You tell me right away if they’re not treating you right, baby.

Yeosang feels something warm settle in his chest, right under where Seonghwa’s pearl charm is still resting. He smiles down at his phone, sending too many heart emojis back to his boyfriend.

He takes a sip of the final drink the bartender had made. The familiar taste of pear blooms over Yeosang’s tongue—the exact mocktail Seonghwa always orders for him.

When, a few minutes later, San comes to tap him in, Yeosang doesn’t fight the pull. He lets Wooyoung pull him into the crowd, knowing that even when they’re not there, his boyfriends always know how to take care of him.

*

The current speaker drones on from the podium onstage as Yeosang fights to stay awake. The thing they didn’t tell you about graduation ceremonies is that they were so long and so boring.

He tries his best to listen, he really does, but it’s hard when Presenter #5 is repeating the same things Presenter #3 said in a different order. We’re so proud of all our students, you’re going to go on to do great things, you will always keep these memories with you in your journey .

Yeosang fiddles with the chain necklace Hongjoong had put on him this morning since his day collar still hadn’t been delivered. He felt more jittery about it every day, but the nights he spent with his boyfriends and his perfect white collar were enough to soothe him for now.

After another few mindless speeches and a few awards, they finally call the first group of students to walk the stage.

Yeosang cheers loudly when San walks the stage, the first of their little group of three to shake hands with the dean. He spots Wooyoung a few rows ahead of him jumping and clapping with an enthusiasm that stands out from the people around him politely clapping.

He zones out for a bit as the rest of the C ’s walk the stage, scanning the auditorium for any familiar faces. Yeosang’s parents and sister made the trip out for the ceremony, but he can’t spot them among the hundreds of other families here. Hongjoong and Seonghwa should also be around somewhere. They texted earlier that they had made it to the large venue, but Yeosang hasn’t been able to check his phone since then to see where they’re sitting. He’s happy that they’re here, that they can share this moment with him.

After what feels like hours, the professor acting as the MC calls the J ’s to come forward. Yeosang pays attention long enough to cheer Wooyoung on as he accepts his diploma. Wooyoung throws a wink at the camera live-streaming the event and Yeosang whoops as he walks off.

Luckily, Yeosang is the next section up so he prepares to walk to the waiting area by the stage. He watches the fifteen or so people in front of him have their names called and shake hands with everyone on stage to the tune of the audience’s polite claps. When Yeosang is next in line, he holds onto Hongjoong’s necklace for strength, before carefully tucking it underneath his robe.

He hands his namecard to the MC as the girl in front of him walks the stage and he takes a deep breath, making sure that his cap is in place one last time.

“Kang Yeosang, BFA,” echoes from the speakers scattered around the venue.

Yeosang walks as confidently as he can, smiling and shaking hands as various admin congratulate him. He finally shakes hands with the dean, quickly posing for a photo before he’s walking again.

He’s descending the stairs and off the stage before he even knows it. For the long wait he had hyped himself up during, the entirety of his walk took less than thirty seconds. Yeosang feels slightly dazed as he walks around the end of the theatre and back to his section.

He somehow catches his sister's eye on the aisle who excitedly waves at him and gives him a thumbs up. Yeosang smiles back at her as he continues to his seat.

The rest of the ceremony drags on. Just when Yeosang is considering how rude it would be to get up and leave, the final student walks the stage. The dean gives a few closing remarks and then they’re free to move their tassels, officially graduated at last.

The dean tells them they’re free to leave and find their families now and Yeosang pulls out his phone, scrolling through the missed messages to try and figure out where his boyfriends are. He’s halfway through typing out a message when he’s suddenly tackled from behind.

“We did it!” comes Wooyoung’s enthusiastic screech from entirely too close to his ear.

Yeosang laughs, shifting around to be able to hug Wooyoung back.

Soon enough, San finds them and so do all three of their families. Wooyoung and San’s dads are embroiled in what looks like a very serious conversation, but they stop long enough to congratulate the three of them.

Yeosang’s mom ruffles what she can reach of Wooyoung’s hair under his cap as Wooyoung’s little brother begins to cling to Yeosang’s leg. There’s a bright flash coming from somewhere to his left, and Yeosang sees that it’s his sister with her large camera, capturing the moment.

“Don’t mind me,” she winks at him with a smile. “Just keep having fun.”

Yeosang giggles as San hooks an arm around him and drags him over to the circle of moms waiting to congratulate them. Wooyoung’s brother is somehow still attached to his leg.

There’s laughter and conversation all around him, graduates reuniting with their families on every side. Yeosang weirdly thinks he’s buzzing with energy, that is, until he realizes it’s just his phone ringing in his hand. Seonghwa-hyung , the contact reads.

Wooyoung nudges his side. “Go on,” he says knowingly. “I’ll distract them for you.”

Yeosang gives him a grateful grin as Wooyoung sweeps his little brother into his arms, tossing him a few times to shrieks of laughter. Yeosang takes the opportunity to slip out while everyone’s attention is focussed elsewhere.

“Hi hyung,” Yeosang bites his lip to restrain his grin as he answers the call.

“Hi baby,” it’s like he can almost hear the matching smile in Seonghwa’s voice. “Turn around for me?”

Yeosang can never deny Seonghwa anything, so he turns around. Standing a few meters away is his boyfriends, looking sharp and somehow unaffected under the summer sun. He immediately begins to power walk over, going as fast as he can without being impolite to the people around them.

When he gets close enough, Seonghwa holds out his arms and Yeosang wastes no time flinging himself into them. His cap gets a little awkwardly crushed against Seonghwa’s chest, but he doesn’t care.

After squeezing Seonghwa tightly, Yeosang extricates himself only to end up folding himself into Hongjoong. Hongjoong laughs at the maneuver and strokes up and down his back. When he’s held on for a bit too long, Yeosang pulls back again, this time grabbing one of each of their hands, not wanting to let go.

He grins up at them, excited that they get to share this moment together.

Seonghwa manages to sneak a quick kiss to his cheek. “Congratulations, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” Yeosang blushes. “Hyungs, I can’t believe you sat through that whole ceremony. I didn’t even think I would make it.”

Hongjoong laughs and squeezes his hand. “Trust me, we’d have sat through a lot worse for you, angel.”

Yeosang is saved from having to reply by a screech of his name coming from behind him. He turns to see that the culprit is Wooyoung, waving him down and making large gestures that suggest he should bring Hongjoong and Seonghwa with him. Yeosang’s mom smiles from Wooyoung’s side.

Yeosang turns back, shyly. “Would you like to meet them?”

He hadn’t really thought about it much before, but now Yeosang feels something kick in his chest. The thought of the two most important people in his life meeting the family that raised him. The thought of his family meeting the two people he has given himself over to.

“Of course we would, darling.” Seonghwa kisses his forehead. “Lead the way.”

So, Yeosang tugs them over by their connected hands, smile never once leaving his face.

*

The car door slams shut behind Hongjoong, encasing them in a buzzing sort of silence.

Yeosang’s family had somehow dragged the three of them out to a loud dinner with Wooyoung and San’s families as well. Hongjoong and Seonghwa were naturals, charming his parents while keeping Yeosang calm in the busy setting.

His sister seemed a little sceptical at first, but Hongjoong quickly won her over by showing interest in her photography.

His parents had reluctantly parted with them to make their way to the train station, giving him no less than ten hugs and five promises that he would keep in touch. It made him feel warm inside to see his mom give Hongjoong and Seonghwa the same treatment.

Now in the car, Yeosang snuggles into Seonghwa’s shoulder, kidnapping Hongjoong’s hand in the process.

“That was somehow more exhausting than the ceremony,” he says.

Seonghwa laughs. “They care about you a lot. So do we.”

Yeosang blushes and hides his face further in Seonghwa’s jacket.

“Are you up for just one more gift tonight?” Hongjoong asks. Yeosang immediately perks up, to their amusement.

“We were going to wait until we got home,” Seonghwa says. “But you’ve been so good tonight, I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Thank you, hyung.” Yeosang’s eyes shine as Hongjoong places a wrapped box on his lap. The wrapping paper is emblazoned with little bunnies hopping about, which makes Yeosang smile fondly.

He carefully pulls apart the paper, not wanting to destroy it in his haste. The box underneath is simple, black with a matching silk ribbon. Yeosang pulls it apart and lifts the lid.

He gasps, immediately feeling tears spring to his eyes.

“Oh,” he breathes out, reaching to touch the cool metal chain.

It’s his day collar, the one he’s been so desperate to receive, finally laid out in his lap. Yeosang reverently traces his finger over the hexlock and down the chain to reach the pendent. It’s an interlocking sun, moon, and star—custom made just for him.

Yeosang gently flips it over, unable to take his eyes away from the H&S engraved on the back.

“It was delivered this morning.” Hongjoong says, voice low and close to his ear. “Do you like it?”

Yeosang turns enough to tuck himself into Hongjoong’s arms in lieu of a response. He doesn’t even know how he’d begin to articulate his thoughts right now.

Hongjoong gently strokes over his hair and Yeosang blindly gropes behind him to draw Seonghwa into the embrace too. Seonghwa steadies the box in Yeosang’s lap with one hand while wrapping him up with the other. He feels so safe, so taken care of.

Seonghwa kisses the top of his head. “Would you like to wear it now?” he murmurs into Yeosang’s hair, as if reading his mind.

Yeosang nods as best he can into Hongjoong’s chest. “Yes, please.” His voice is thick and full of emotion—and a little muffled by the fabric of his boyfriend's dress shirt.

Seonghwa gently adjusts their position so Yeosang is sitting upright again, Hongjoong shuffled in close on his other side. Seonghwa reaches into the front of the suit he had bought Yeosang to draw out the chain that had been serving as his temporary discreet collar. He reaches around and unclasps the backing, tucking it away into his own pocket for safekeeping.

Yeosang’s neck suddenly feels so bare, but he wiggles with anticipation at what he knows is coming next.

Hongjoong takes the collar from its resting place, undoing the pieces of the hexlock with the thin key he produces. Yeosang doesn’t realize that his hands are trembling until Seonghwa takes them into his own, gently soothing over his knuckles. Yeosang squeezes back.

Hongjoong brings the thin chain up and around his neck. The pendant rests at the hollow of his throat, cool against his blazing skin. Seonghwa’s eyes flick over him, almost glowing in the lighting of the street lamps outside of the car windows.

“You’re so beautiful,” Seonghwa’s words seem almost unconscious. Full of meaning and pulled from the deepest part of him.

Yeosang is lost in the sensations, can’t articulate everything he wants to convey right now with language. So he squeezes Seonghwa’s hands once more, hoping he’ll get what Yeosang means. Seonghwa’s always so good at reading him, at knowing exactly what he’s feeling.

Hongjoong gently brushes back the hair on the back of Yeosang’s neck, connecting the two pieces of the lock. He feels the world around him go quiet when Hongjoong turns the final piece, clicking shut. The buzzing in his head stops, the rumble of the car feels distant beneath him, the traffic around them is silent.

The only thing that exists to him in that moment is Hongjoong and Seonghwa. His entire world narrowed to the two men on either side of him. His entire world is them.

“How do you feel, angel?” Hongjoong’s voice echoes and bounces in his mind.

Yeosang dredges up his knowledge of language from a far away place, knowing he needs to answer Hongjoong properly.

“Good, hyung.” He breathes out. “Closer please?”

Hongjoong hums and Seonghwa smiles brightly in front of him. Suddenly he’s surrounded on all sides, caged in their loving arms. Seonghwa guides him into a syrupy sweet and slow kiss, languidly moving like they have all the time in the world. Which, they really do.

He’s guided to Hongjoong next, sharing kisses and breaths with one another for a time that seems to stretch infinitely. Yeosang doesn’t keep track of much after that. He lets his mind go blank, trusting his boyfriends to steer him to where he should be.

Seonghwa pulls back minutes or days later, it’s all the same to Yeosang. With two fingers under his chin, Seonghwa keeps him steady. Hongjoong winds his arms around Yeosang’s waist and Yeosang feels like Hongjoong is single-handedly keeping him from floating away.

Yeosang sighs, letting himself be securely held. “Can I wear it forever, please?” He makes his eyes as big as he can, sticks his bottom lip out just enough.

“Forever’s a long time, doll.” Hongjoong whispers by his ear.

“I know.” Yeosang replies. “I’ll be yours forever.”

Finally saying the words out loud settles something within Yeosang he didn’t know he needed. It’s always been true, but there’s a weight to it now that he can’t describe. Something flashes in Seonghwa’s eyes, gone as quick as it came.

“My sweet baby. We’ll never let you go.” Seonghwa’s words hold a promise that Yeosang grasps onto and locks away in his chest. Hongjoong kisses the side of his neck as Yeosang settles further into their embrace. Seonghwa fondly taps his chin.

Yeosang could get used to this for forever. Forever is perfect to him.