[Super Junior] Veni Vidi Vici (2/3), NC-17, Smut, Kibum/everyone (+various)
Veni Vidi Vici - (2/3)
Super Junior (M), Kibum/everyone, (Yesung/Ryeowook, Siwon/Hankyung/Heechul), NC-17, 2680 words
Super Junior being slutty and boozed-up at the Super Show II afterparty. Kibum came. He saw. He conquered had a lot of a sex.
(1/3)
Veni Vidi Vici - (2/3)
by meiface
"Fuck," swears Yesung and stumbles against the couch, landing in Kibum's lap.
Kibum jumps and swears himself, knocking his hat off his head. "Jesus," he says, but he's not even close to angry. Because Yesung is scrabbling across his lap in a blur of white, dragging friction across his cock, and then Ryeowook is pinning him to the couch right next to Kibum.
"Ryeowook," Yesung protests, but the look in Ryeowook's eyes is determined.
Kibum watches as Ryeowook leans in over Yesung, holding him still with hands on his shoulders, and bends his head to kiss him. He watches as Yesung's head rolls back and his mouth falls open under Ryeowook's. He smiles a little, secretly pleased. He's always known Ryeowook had another side to him, one fans and even the other members tended to underestimate. But Kibum knew him better than that.
Ryeowook kisses Yesung until they're both gasping, until Yesung's nails are digging into Ryeowook's back. Then Kibum sticks an arm between them, casually, and pulls Ryeowook back.
"Hey," he says nonchalantly.
Ryeowook glares at him a moment, before his expression melts into one of surprise. "Kibum!" he exclaims, brightening. His mouth is red.
Yesung groans something into his arms that might be a fuck you. Kibum grins.
"Long time no see," he says and wraps his hand around Ryeowook's wrist. He runs his tongue over his teeth at the tousled look Ryeowook is sporting - short hair rumpled, skin glistening with sweat. His clothes are nothing loud or obscene, which has never been his style anyway, but there is enough black to make Kibum a little hot. Ryeowook has always had a hidden side, he remembers, as his smile turns more into a smirk.
"I know! I've missed you. How are you?" Ryeowook smiles at him, warm, and doesn't resist when Kibum slides his hand around the back of his neck and tugs him down. His smile only turns a little more intimate.
"Oh my god," Yesung says, closing his eyes as Kibum kisses Ryeowook, tasting Yesung in the hint of smoke and tobacco in the crevices of Ryeowook's mouth.
Yesung slaps a hand over his forehead in disbelief. "Fuck you, Kibum. You can't make it back for the concert, but you make it back for this?"
Kibum ignores him in favor of spreading his legs and pulling Ryeowook closer, deepening the kiss. His tongue delves farther, exploring flavors of alcohol under the taste of Yesung. He still needs much, much more alcohol in his system. The night is young, even if he's come late. But this is a start.
Ryeowook's moan is slightly breathy as he slides his hands over Kibum's shoulders. He settles a knee on the couch between Kibum's thighs and Kibum sighs, pleased, letting his own hands drop to Ryeowook's ass. "Better than alcohol, hyung," he murmurs, teeth catching on his lower lip.
He's not sure how long they're there, kissing, stroking - a warm hand pressed against the length of Ryeowook's arousal through his pants. Ryeowook is squirming against Kibum and rubbing deliciously against his arousal when a hand drops by his head, holding a glass of something swirling golden even in the dim lighting. "Hey asshole," says Yesung from above him, standing behind the couch. He sounds irritated, but when Kibum twists his head around to look at him, he's grinning, dark hair falling into his eyes. "Trade you."
Kibum takes the glass and sips experimentally. Whiskey. And some damn good whiskey, if he knows his alcohol.
"Tell you what, hyung," he says, shifting until Ryeowook is seated beside him and he is free to stretch up and hook an arm around Yesung's neck. He's not much for moving tonight - everyone can come to him. "Tell me if you think this is a fair trade." His eyes droop to half-mast as he takes a swig of whiskey and pulls Yesung the rest of the way down for a kiss.
The alcohol burns against his tongue, down his throat, and spills out of the corners of his mouth as their mouths meet. It's a messy kiss, hot, and a little competitive. His arm is bent at a strange angle and he can feel drops of whiskey racing down his chin, down his throat. Kibum loves it, and god, now he's so hard it almost hurts.
Yesung nips at his lips, challengingly. Kibum's never been one to back down.
He kisses back harder, forcing his tongue deeper, licking - and nearly chokes when he feels Ryeowook's hands on him, palming his crotch and pressing down.
Fuck, Kibum thinks, a moan rising unbidden in his throat. Fuck, is he glad to be back in Korea.
***
Three drinks later and after watching Ryeowook nearly come into Yesung's hand, Kibum thinks he's going to go out of his mind with want. He's so hard he can barely form a coherent sentence. Fuck. He wonders if he should've taken Ryeowook's offer to join him and Yesung out back but - no. No, it's early yet and Kibum's barely seen the rest of the members. He doesn't want to disappear into the dark yet, even for a quick fuck.
Besides, he's waiting for someone in particular.
His eyes wander through the crowd, glittering and dark at the same time, shadows highlighted by a glint of jewelry, a flash of neon. He's looking for someone familiar, easily recognizable: not strangers in the night but someone he remembers having, tucked close to his heart. A smile he used to kiss, that was just for him...
By the bar, he sees Henry with his flock of girls. Sungmin's still there too, but now he's wrapped around Shindong, literally. His legs are hooked up around Shindong's waist, his arms locked around his neck, and they are sucking face like there's no tomorrow. Kibum lets his eyes rest momentarily on the strip of skin revealed by the way Sungmin's shirt has hitched up - pale in the darkness - but then his gaze flickers away.
The bodies on the dance floor are all writhing against one another, skin-on-skin contact to the pulse of the beat. Kibum downs the rest of his rum and coke and ends up clutching the glass in a white-knuckled grip as his gaze, at last, falls to a rest.
There's a couple wrapped up around each other on the edge of the dance floor.
It's easy to spot the bright orange-red hair, but it takes a moment for him to realize who it is. Heechul hasn't gone back to his old hair. No, this time it's Eunhyuk with fire in his hair. This time, it's Eunhyuk that Donghae's pressed up against, intimate, laughing.
Jealousy burns low and hot. Kibum feels anger flash through him in a rush and his cock leaps of its own accord, straining against his jeans.
Donghae and Eunhyuk.
Of course. He should've expected it.
He wants to slam someone against a wall - he's not sure which of them, but his hold on his glass tightens dangerously.
Eunhyuk's hands are tucked in Donghae's back pockets, casually, and Donghae's bent too close. His mouth grazes Eunhyuk's ear, their chests aligned, their hips slinking against one another. There's a curve of a smile on Donghae's lips that Kibum can see even across the dance floor. He's kissed that smile too many times to forget it; it's like there's a spotlight on Donghae, that Kibum can see only him, even in the rolling crowd.
Donghae's hips flex, liquid, and Eunhyuk grins.
Kibum presses the heel of his palm to his crotch and swears. He is going to fucking kill someone, or maybe just grab Donghae and push him up against the nearest vertical surface and kiss him until he forgets how to speak, fuck him until he's boneless and begging for it. He wants wet eyes and a swollen mouth, gasping and panting his name, fingers digging into his back as he slams into his hyung - fuck, Kibum wants to mark him. Leave bite marks all over him. Stake his claim.
He slams his glass down on the nearby table, ready to push himself to his feet and get over to Donghae and Eunhyuk, limping or not. As he rises, a hand grips the back of his wifebeater and yanks him back down.
Kibum lets out an angry breath in surprise, tilting his head back to meet Heechul's darkly amused eyes.
"Running away again?" he purrs, as his hand slides along the back of Kibum's neck toward the front, over his collarbone. "But you've only just come back, Kibummie."
"Hyung," Kibum grunts, still annoyed. His blood still feels hot under his skin. He still wants to put his fist through something.
Heechul hums and pulls away. He rounds the end of the couch to sit next to Kibum, a glass of clear liquid in one hand, his trademark smirk on his face. "Someone looks a little jealous."
Kibum doesn't respond, but can't help glaring in the direction of the dance floor.
"They're just putting on a show, baby," Heechul tells him consolingly. He grabs Kibum's chin and turns it toward him, their lips brushing in sudden contact. "We can put on a show, too, if you want his attention." His lips move against Kibum's, warm and slightly damp with alcohol. His breath tastes like tequila and lime.
There's a pause the length of one, two heartbeats.
Why not, Kibum thinks darkly, and kisses him savagely.
Heechul's tongue snakes its way into his mouth, flickering over his teeth, and Kibum's body jolts. He is too much on edge already, a long night of teasing that culminated into anger. There is no art to this kiss, only urgent, angry need and frustration. His hand finds purchase on Heechul's upper thigh, gripping hard through the black denim as he shifts and hitches his hyung's leg over his lap. He moans as Heechul's knee slides across his crotch.
"Mm, just like that."
Heechul's voice is wicked and velvet smooth, like dark chocolate. Kibum sinks into it, drawing Heechul's lower lip between his teeth, and slowly becomes aware of a sensation of cold liquid trickling over his throat.
"What the hell," he mutters into Heechul's mouth.
There is laughter, sharp and flashing danger signs at Kibum. It never bodes well if Heechul is that amused, he's learned over the years. His fears are realized as Heechul dips his head to lap at Kibum's neck and he realizes, shit, Heechul has just dumped the remainder of his drink over Kibum's neck and collarbone.
But his protests die in his throat as Heechul's tongue curls, hot, over the wet patch of skin. His mouth goes completely dry as drops of tequila race down his chest and Heechul follows them with his mouth, stopping only when he encounters the edge of Kibum's wifebeater.
Heechul bares his teeth, scrapes them roughly across Kibum's skin.
He arches. "Hyung."
"Hyung," someone echoes, as Heechul traces laughter into Kibum's throat with his tongue. "Hyung." The voice is insistent, petulant, and familiar.
Kibum isn't paying attention, thrusting up into Heechul.
"Be a good boy and bring me two more tequila shots," Heechul orders lazily, as his fingers work deftly between his and Kibum's body, unbuttoning buttons and grasping the tab of Kibum's zipper.
He spends an excruciatingly long few minutes easing the zipper down, smirking.
"Get on with it," Kibum hisses between his teeth.
"Patience," Heechul sings at him, and then Siwon is back, stumbling and drunk, handing Heechul two shots and spilling them half over Kibum in the process. He flinches as a stream of cold liquid splashes down his cheek.
Heechul clucks his tongue. "You made a mess, Siwonnie. You should clean that up."
Kibum is pretty sure he lost control of the situation as soon as he heard Heechul's voice curling into his ear. He can only gape now, a shocked breath stalling in his throat, as Siwon suddenly leans down over the back of the couch and breathes heavy and warm against his face. "Hi Kibum," he murmurs happily. And then Heechul dumps one of the shots over Kibum's bared stomach as Siwon laps at the tequila stain on his cheek.
The simultaneous shock of cold and streak of hot against his skin makes Kibum shudder involuntarily. He swears. And then swears again when Heechul puts his hand on Kibum's cock, a warm weight through the thin fabric of his boxers.
"You fucking tease," Kibum bites out. Heechul laughs.
Siwon kisses him sloppily and wet, more eagerness than skill, as Heechul shifts down the length of his body and bends his head to lick tequila off Kibum's abdomen.
His muscles quiver with how tightly he's clenching them. "Hyung," he pants. This isn't fair. It isn't fair that he's suddenly undone, and so efficiently too. He's forgotten how quick Heechul is to act and how adept he is at achieving his ends when he has purpose.
And he most certainly has purpose now, holding down Kibum's stuttering hips in those thin hands of his, moving his tongue over Kibum's lower stomach, trailing back up tease his bellybutton.
"Don't you need some salt?"
It takes all of his will to flutter his eyes open and stare up at Hankyung, who is standing at the end of the couch with a bemused smile on his face. He is holding a cup of limes in one hand and - Kibum wants to snort but he's hard-pressed to be anything other than painfully aroused - a salt-shaker in the other.
"You're late," Heechul tells him, propping his chin on Kibum's hip. He fingers Kibum through his boxers again and Kibum nearly bites through Siwon's lip.
Siwon pulls back and gives him a reproachful look, but then distracts himself by mouthing at Kibum's neck. "D'you feel good, Kibummie?" he mumbles happily, damply. He reaches around to slide a large palm up under his ruched-up wifebeater, skating over Kibum's chest.
Kibum closes his eyes again and just groans.
The salt-shaker also becomes eminently less ridiculous when Kibum realizes they've unscrewed the cap and are pouring little lines of salt all over his bare skin. At some point everything becomes a haze of hot and cold, lust clouding his thoughts in the pulsing club lights, his erection throbbing to the beat of the bass. There are three mouths on him, lascivious and greedy, racing over his skin, chasing every drop of alcohol and setting every nerve on fire.
"Hey Kibummie," Heechul says and Kibum blinks dazedly at him in time to see Siwon and Hankyung meeting in a frantic, open-mouthed kiss.
Heechul's grinning again and Kibum gets that familiar sense of foreboding as his boxers are peeled off him and shoved with his shorts to his knees, where they catch against the couch. His cock springs free into the sweaty club air.
Kibum's moan is ragged and desperate when Heechul lowers his mouth. "One more body shot?" he whispers, just short of contact, flutters of air teasing at the crown.
"Hey Kibummie," he says again and winks when he meets Kibum's eyes. "Check out our audience." And then he wraps his mouth around Kibum's cock.
Kibum's gaze flies upward where he sees Siwon scrabbling at Hankyung's clothes, and Kangin bent over Eeteuk, and - through a gap in the crowd - Donghae's wide-eyed stare. He's still next to Eunhyuk but they are no longer pressed against each other, standing side-by-side instead, arms looped loosely around each other's waists. Eunhyuk is biting his lip with a concerned expression.
Donghae, on the other hand, looks a combination of flabbergasted and angry. Kibum can see it in his stance, in the set of his mouth. And, as Heechul tongues along the underside of his cock and Kibum's eyes fall closed again, he sees desire in Donghae's dark eyes.
Finally.
Donghae wants Kibum, but it's Heechul's mouth Kibum is straining into, Heechul's mouth he is arching and spilling himself into.
Maybe a little bit of fitting retribution, Kibum thinks righteously, because Kibum is an asshole.
(3/3)
--
Notes: Back in the U.S. in SF with a friend. Tired. Part 3 up when I finally get home on Fri.
Super Junior (M), Kibum/everyone, (Yesung/Ryeowook, Siwon/Hankyung/Heechul), NC-17, 2680 words
Super Junior being slutty and boozed-up at the Super Show II afterparty. Kibum came. He saw. He conquered had a lot of a sex.
(1/3)
Veni Vidi Vici - (2/3)
by meiface
"Fuck," swears Yesung and stumbles against the couch, landing in Kibum's lap.
Kibum jumps and swears himself, knocking his hat off his head. "Jesus," he says, but he's not even close to angry. Because Yesung is scrabbling across his lap in a blur of white, dragging friction across his cock, and then Ryeowook is pinning him to the couch right next to Kibum.
"Ryeowook," Yesung protests, but the look in Ryeowook's eyes is determined.
Kibum watches as Ryeowook leans in over Yesung, holding him still with hands on his shoulders, and bends his head to kiss him. He watches as Yesung's head rolls back and his mouth falls open under Ryeowook's. He smiles a little, secretly pleased. He's always known Ryeowook had another side to him, one fans and even the other members tended to underestimate. But Kibum knew him better than that.
Ryeowook kisses Yesung until they're both gasping, until Yesung's nails are digging into Ryeowook's back. Then Kibum sticks an arm between them, casually, and pulls Ryeowook back.
"Hey," he says nonchalantly.
Ryeowook glares at him a moment, before his expression melts into one of surprise. "Kibum!" he exclaims, brightening. His mouth is red.
Yesung groans something into his arms that might be a fuck you. Kibum grins.
"Long time no see," he says and wraps his hand around Ryeowook's wrist. He runs his tongue over his teeth at the tousled look Ryeowook is sporting - short hair rumpled, skin glistening with sweat. His clothes are nothing loud or obscene, which has never been his style anyway, but there is enough black to make Kibum a little hot. Ryeowook has always had a hidden side, he remembers, as his smile turns more into a smirk.
"I know! I've missed you. How are you?" Ryeowook smiles at him, warm, and doesn't resist when Kibum slides his hand around the back of his neck and tugs him down. His smile only turns a little more intimate.
"Oh my god," Yesung says, closing his eyes as Kibum kisses Ryeowook, tasting Yesung in the hint of smoke and tobacco in the crevices of Ryeowook's mouth.
Yesung slaps a hand over his forehead in disbelief. "Fuck you, Kibum. You can't make it back for the concert, but you make it back for this?"
Kibum ignores him in favor of spreading his legs and pulling Ryeowook closer, deepening the kiss. His tongue delves farther, exploring flavors of alcohol under the taste of Yesung. He still needs much, much more alcohol in his system. The night is young, even if he's come late. But this is a start.
Ryeowook's moan is slightly breathy as he slides his hands over Kibum's shoulders. He settles a knee on the couch between Kibum's thighs and Kibum sighs, pleased, letting his own hands drop to Ryeowook's ass. "Better than alcohol, hyung," he murmurs, teeth catching on his lower lip.
He's not sure how long they're there, kissing, stroking - a warm hand pressed against the length of Ryeowook's arousal through his pants. Ryeowook is squirming against Kibum and rubbing deliciously against his arousal when a hand drops by his head, holding a glass of something swirling golden even in the dim lighting. "Hey asshole," says Yesung from above him, standing behind the couch. He sounds irritated, but when Kibum twists his head around to look at him, he's grinning, dark hair falling into his eyes. "Trade you."
Kibum takes the glass and sips experimentally. Whiskey. And some damn good whiskey, if he knows his alcohol.
"Tell you what, hyung," he says, shifting until Ryeowook is seated beside him and he is free to stretch up and hook an arm around Yesung's neck. He's not much for moving tonight - everyone can come to him. "Tell me if you think this is a fair trade." His eyes droop to half-mast as he takes a swig of whiskey and pulls Yesung the rest of the way down for a kiss.
The alcohol burns against his tongue, down his throat, and spills out of the corners of his mouth as their mouths meet. It's a messy kiss, hot, and a little competitive. His arm is bent at a strange angle and he can feel drops of whiskey racing down his chin, down his throat. Kibum loves it, and god, now he's so hard it almost hurts.
Yesung nips at his lips, challengingly. Kibum's never been one to back down.
He kisses back harder, forcing his tongue deeper, licking - and nearly chokes when he feels Ryeowook's hands on him, palming his crotch and pressing down.
Fuck, Kibum thinks, a moan rising unbidden in his throat. Fuck, is he glad to be back in Korea.
***
Three drinks later and after watching Ryeowook nearly come into Yesung's hand, Kibum thinks he's going to go out of his mind with want. He's so hard he can barely form a coherent sentence. Fuck. He wonders if he should've taken Ryeowook's offer to join him and Yesung out back but - no. No, it's early yet and Kibum's barely seen the rest of the members. He doesn't want to disappear into the dark yet, even for a quick fuck.
Besides, he's waiting for someone in particular.
His eyes wander through the crowd, glittering and dark at the same time, shadows highlighted by a glint of jewelry, a flash of neon. He's looking for someone familiar, easily recognizable: not strangers in the night but someone he remembers having, tucked close to his heart. A smile he used to kiss, that was just for him...
By the bar, he sees Henry with his flock of girls. Sungmin's still there too, but now he's wrapped around Shindong, literally. His legs are hooked up around Shindong's waist, his arms locked around his neck, and they are sucking face like there's no tomorrow. Kibum lets his eyes rest momentarily on the strip of skin revealed by the way Sungmin's shirt has hitched up - pale in the darkness - but then his gaze flickers away.
The bodies on the dance floor are all writhing against one another, skin-on-skin contact to the pulse of the beat. Kibum downs the rest of his rum and coke and ends up clutching the glass in a white-knuckled grip as his gaze, at last, falls to a rest.
There's a couple wrapped up around each other on the edge of the dance floor.
It's easy to spot the bright orange-red hair, but it takes a moment for him to realize who it is. Heechul hasn't gone back to his old hair. No, this time it's Eunhyuk with fire in his hair. This time, it's Eunhyuk that Donghae's pressed up against, intimate, laughing.
Jealousy burns low and hot. Kibum feels anger flash through him in a rush and his cock leaps of its own accord, straining against his jeans.
Donghae and Eunhyuk.
Of course. He should've expected it.
He wants to slam someone against a wall - he's not sure which of them, but his hold on his glass tightens dangerously.
Eunhyuk's hands are tucked in Donghae's back pockets, casually, and Donghae's bent too close. His mouth grazes Eunhyuk's ear, their chests aligned, their hips slinking against one another. There's a curve of a smile on Donghae's lips that Kibum can see even across the dance floor. He's kissed that smile too many times to forget it; it's like there's a spotlight on Donghae, that Kibum can see only him, even in the rolling crowd.
Donghae's hips flex, liquid, and Eunhyuk grins.
Kibum presses the heel of his palm to his crotch and swears. He is going to fucking kill someone, or maybe just grab Donghae and push him up against the nearest vertical surface and kiss him until he forgets how to speak, fuck him until he's boneless and begging for it. He wants wet eyes and a swollen mouth, gasping and panting his name, fingers digging into his back as he slams into his hyung - fuck, Kibum wants to mark him. Leave bite marks all over him. Stake his claim.
He slams his glass down on the nearby table, ready to push himself to his feet and get over to Donghae and Eunhyuk, limping or not. As he rises, a hand grips the back of his wifebeater and yanks him back down.
Kibum lets out an angry breath in surprise, tilting his head back to meet Heechul's darkly amused eyes.
"Running away again?" he purrs, as his hand slides along the back of Kibum's neck toward the front, over his collarbone. "But you've only just come back, Kibummie."
"Hyung," Kibum grunts, still annoyed. His blood still feels hot under his skin. He still wants to put his fist through something.
Heechul hums and pulls away. He rounds the end of the couch to sit next to Kibum, a glass of clear liquid in one hand, his trademark smirk on his face. "Someone looks a little jealous."
Kibum doesn't respond, but can't help glaring in the direction of the dance floor.
"They're just putting on a show, baby," Heechul tells him consolingly. He grabs Kibum's chin and turns it toward him, their lips brushing in sudden contact. "We can put on a show, too, if you want his attention." His lips move against Kibum's, warm and slightly damp with alcohol. His breath tastes like tequila and lime.
There's a pause the length of one, two heartbeats.
Why not, Kibum thinks darkly, and kisses him savagely.
Heechul's tongue snakes its way into his mouth, flickering over his teeth, and Kibum's body jolts. He is too much on edge already, a long night of teasing that culminated into anger. There is no art to this kiss, only urgent, angry need and frustration. His hand finds purchase on Heechul's upper thigh, gripping hard through the black denim as he shifts and hitches his hyung's leg over his lap. He moans as Heechul's knee slides across his crotch.
"Mm, just like that."
Heechul's voice is wicked and velvet smooth, like dark chocolate. Kibum sinks into it, drawing Heechul's lower lip between his teeth, and slowly becomes aware of a sensation of cold liquid trickling over his throat.
"What the hell," he mutters into Heechul's mouth.
There is laughter, sharp and flashing danger signs at Kibum. It never bodes well if Heechul is that amused, he's learned over the years. His fears are realized as Heechul dips his head to lap at Kibum's neck and he realizes, shit, Heechul has just dumped the remainder of his drink over Kibum's neck and collarbone.
But his protests die in his throat as Heechul's tongue curls, hot, over the wet patch of skin. His mouth goes completely dry as drops of tequila race down his chest and Heechul follows them with his mouth, stopping only when he encounters the edge of Kibum's wifebeater.
Heechul bares his teeth, scrapes them roughly across Kibum's skin.
He arches. "Hyung."
"Hyung," someone echoes, as Heechul traces laughter into Kibum's throat with his tongue. "Hyung." The voice is insistent, petulant, and familiar.
Kibum isn't paying attention, thrusting up into Heechul.
"Be a good boy and bring me two more tequila shots," Heechul orders lazily, as his fingers work deftly between his and Kibum's body, unbuttoning buttons and grasping the tab of Kibum's zipper.
He spends an excruciatingly long few minutes easing the zipper down, smirking.
"Get on with it," Kibum hisses between his teeth.
"Patience," Heechul sings at him, and then Siwon is back, stumbling and drunk, handing Heechul two shots and spilling them half over Kibum in the process. He flinches as a stream of cold liquid splashes down his cheek.
Heechul clucks his tongue. "You made a mess, Siwonnie. You should clean that up."
Kibum is pretty sure he lost control of the situation as soon as he heard Heechul's voice curling into his ear. He can only gape now, a shocked breath stalling in his throat, as Siwon suddenly leans down over the back of the couch and breathes heavy and warm against his face. "Hi Kibum," he murmurs happily. And then Heechul dumps one of the shots over Kibum's bared stomach as Siwon laps at the tequila stain on his cheek.
The simultaneous shock of cold and streak of hot against his skin makes Kibum shudder involuntarily. He swears. And then swears again when Heechul puts his hand on Kibum's cock, a warm weight through the thin fabric of his boxers.
"You fucking tease," Kibum bites out. Heechul laughs.
Siwon kisses him sloppily and wet, more eagerness than skill, as Heechul shifts down the length of his body and bends his head to lick tequila off Kibum's abdomen.
His muscles quiver with how tightly he's clenching them. "Hyung," he pants. This isn't fair. It isn't fair that he's suddenly undone, and so efficiently too. He's forgotten how quick Heechul is to act and how adept he is at achieving his ends when he has purpose.
And he most certainly has purpose now, holding down Kibum's stuttering hips in those thin hands of his, moving his tongue over Kibum's lower stomach, trailing back up tease his bellybutton.
"Don't you need some salt?"
It takes all of his will to flutter his eyes open and stare up at Hankyung, who is standing at the end of the couch with a bemused smile on his face. He is holding a cup of limes in one hand and - Kibum wants to snort but he's hard-pressed to be anything other than painfully aroused - a salt-shaker in the other.
"You're late," Heechul tells him, propping his chin on Kibum's hip. He fingers Kibum through his boxers again and Kibum nearly bites through Siwon's lip.
Siwon pulls back and gives him a reproachful look, but then distracts himself by mouthing at Kibum's neck. "D'you feel good, Kibummie?" he mumbles happily, damply. He reaches around to slide a large palm up under his ruched-up wifebeater, skating over Kibum's chest.
Kibum closes his eyes again and just groans.
The salt-shaker also becomes eminently less ridiculous when Kibum realizes they've unscrewed the cap and are pouring little lines of salt all over his bare skin. At some point everything becomes a haze of hot and cold, lust clouding his thoughts in the pulsing club lights, his erection throbbing to the beat of the bass. There are three mouths on him, lascivious and greedy, racing over his skin, chasing every drop of alcohol and setting every nerve on fire.
"Hey Kibummie," Heechul says and Kibum blinks dazedly at him in time to see Siwon and Hankyung meeting in a frantic, open-mouthed kiss.
Heechul's grinning again and Kibum gets that familiar sense of foreboding as his boxers are peeled off him and shoved with his shorts to his knees, where they catch against the couch. His cock springs free into the sweaty club air.
Kibum's moan is ragged and desperate when Heechul lowers his mouth. "One more body shot?" he whispers, just short of contact, flutters of air teasing at the crown.
"Hey Kibummie," he says again and winks when he meets Kibum's eyes. "Check out our audience." And then he wraps his mouth around Kibum's cock.
Kibum's gaze flies upward where he sees Siwon scrabbling at Hankyung's clothes, and Kangin bent over Eeteuk, and - through a gap in the crowd - Donghae's wide-eyed stare. He's still next to Eunhyuk but they are no longer pressed against each other, standing side-by-side instead, arms looped loosely around each other's waists. Eunhyuk is biting his lip with a concerned expression.
Donghae, on the other hand, looks a combination of flabbergasted and angry. Kibum can see it in his stance, in the set of his mouth. And, as Heechul tongues along the underside of his cock and Kibum's eyes fall closed again, he sees desire in Donghae's dark eyes.
Finally.
Donghae wants Kibum, but it's Heechul's mouth Kibum is straining into, Heechul's mouth he is arching and spilling himself into.
Maybe a little bit of fitting retribution, Kibum thinks righteously, because Kibum is an asshole.
(3/3)
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Notes: Back in the U.S. in SF with a friend. Tired. Part 3 up when I finally get home on Fri.