#Taem was quiet bc he was scared theyd get caught but he's way more confident now that they won't and if they will then like no one cares

[katrinawritesthings]

Taemin / everyone; hat-trick; NC-17

harken back to the 3-2-1 music video Behind the Scenes stuff where Taemin was playing with his little Snapback and showing jinx his cool hat trick

also I know it's taem / everyone but Jinx does not get laid so if you were here for that I am sorry lmao

Taemin sighs slowly and gathers up his resolve. A hat trick. Three in one day. He can totally do it. He’s no baby loser boi. He just has to figure out who the most likely candidates are. As he’s thinking, heavy footsteps enter the room, soft rustles of a towel ruffling through wet hair. Well. Taemin smiles lazily to himself. Jonghyun’s easy enough.

Taemin wanders onto the music video set for the billionth time in his new outfit, only glancing up every now and again to see where he’s walking. Mostly he’s paying attention to his hat and his hand, and how to position his hand just right inside of his hat to flip it around and then back up again. He’s getting the hang of it and he has to say that he’s real proud of himself.

“Hey. Baby loser boi,” Taemin turns at Jinki's voice to see him following, leaning curiously to peep at his hand. Jinki nods his head at his hat. “What’re you doing, loser baby?” he asks. Taemin snorts.

“Nothing, Naruto Man,” he says, grinning when Jinki sighs and rolls his eyes.

“You gotta stop calling me that,” he says. “All of you.” Taemin reaches up to poke his headband.

“You gotta stop looking like Naruto first,” he says. Then he backs up a step and shakes his head so he can actually show Jinki what he’s doing. “You just–” he says, and does his little hat flip, back and forth, biting his lip when he does it perfect. “It’s not that hard,” he says honestly, glancing up. “You just gotta kinda whip it, see.” He does it again, faster, and then easily lets Jinki step forward and take it. “Just go fast,” he says, demonstrating with his hand. Jinki takes the hat, sticks one hand inside, adjusts it, and then holds it up, hunched over a little, smug little grin pushing his cheeks up.

“Baby loser boi has a weird shaped head,” he says in a tiny gremliny voice. He wiggles the hat up and down as he says it so it looks like the hat is the one saying it. Taemin can’t do anything but sigh fondly, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.

‘You’re so fucking weird, dude,” he says lovingly. Jinki grins, continuing to wiggle his hat.

“Thanks,” he says. He straightens up and hands it back. As Taemin takes it from him, he cocks a brow. “You know what, though, I bet you couldn’t do a real hat trick,” he says. Taemin frowns for a moment, confused– what he was doing was very much a real trick with a real hat– before realization dawns on him and he snorts.

“You mean, like, the sex thing?” he asks, chuckling softly. “Three in one day?”

“Yeah,” Jinki grins back. “Baby loser boi doesn’t have it in him.” He punches at Taemin’s stomach softly, just bopping him all over, just to tease. Taemin giggles as he swats Jinki's hands away.

“Bet I could,” he says defiantly. It’s not hard. There’s always horny people around. Jinki shakes his head fondly and leaves him to hop up to the music video set.

“Mmhmm,” he hums, in a way that sounds very much like he doesn’t actually agree. Taemin scrunches his lips, puts his hat on over his hair defiantly. He didn’t care five seconds ago but now he is absolutely, one hundred percent going to do this. Then he won’t be baby loser boi anymore but Jinki will still be Naruto Man. That’ll show him.

~

The next morning, Taemin honestly would have forgotten all about it had he not dreamed of fucking a snapback and woken up with a giant boner. As it is, he scrunches his whole face as he yawns into his hand, then flops his arms over his head. Keeping his eyes closed against the hallway light coming from the door that Jonghyun always leaves wide open, he sighs slowly and gathers up his resolve. A hat trick. Three in one day. He can totally do it. He’s no baby loser boi. He just has to figure out who the most likely candidates are.

As he’s thinking, heavy footsteps enter the room, soft rustles of a towel ruffling through wet hair. Well. Taemin smiles lazily to himself. Jonghyun’s easy enough.

“Taem. Hey.” Jonghyun’s hand jiggles his shoulder gently. Taemin groans in protest on principle, but doesn’t really mind much. Now it’s even easier. “Wakey wakey,” Jonghyun says. “We gotta be at that photoshoot later.” He starts to take his hand away, but Taemin sleepily reaches up and grabs his wrist. He tugs with all of his sleepy strength until he hears Jonghyun curse and stumble and then a heavy weight next to his head, like Jonghyun put his other hand down to steady himself. Then he opens his eyes.

“Jonghyunnie,” he says, smiling lazily up at his bandmate in the semidarkness. Jonghyun frowns down at him, annoyed, blonde hair damp, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Taemin smiles even wider, dick twitching hopefully under his covers.

“Don’t be a dick, Tae,” Jonghyun huffs. Taemin chuckles sleepily and lifts his other hand to slip around Jonghyun’s neck, to play with his wet undercut.

“How much time before we have to leave?” he asks, trailing his hand over to trace Jonghyun’s ear, to rub gently over his piercing holes. Jonghyun shivers like he always does whenever someone touches his lobes, shivers all the way down his spine and shakes his head just enough to get Taemin’s fingers, but not his whole hand, away.

“An hour, I think,” he says. Taemin celebrates internally. That’s plenty of time. He tugs on Jonghyun again, gets his hands on his waist and heaves him up and onto the bed so he’s on his knees above Taemin’s hips. He’s mildly impressed at how well he managed to do that while barely awake. Baby loser boi doesn’t have it in him his ass. Jonghyun curses again, struggling to steady himself, and lifts a hand to flick Taemin’s nose hard.

“Quit–”

“Ride me, Jonghyunnie,” Taemin murmurs. He pulls Jonghyun down flush to meet his body, rolls his hips up so Jonghyun can feel how hard he is. Whatever protestation Jonghyun had in his throat leaves and is replaced with a soft oh, a heavy breath. He shifts to get more comfortable on Taemin and leans his weight on both hands on either side of his head. His eyes are dark as his teeth press deep into his bottom lip.

“Condoms,” he says. Already his voice is breathy and low and Taemin chuckles fondly, reaching up to fumble on his headboard for the line of condoms he bought specifically so he could bang here at the Japanese dorm.

While he fumbles with those, Jonghyun fumbles with his towel, with Taemin’s blankets. When Jonghyun pulls his pajama pants down he doesn’t even have time to hiss at the material rubbing against his cock before Jonghyun is taking him in his hand and stroking him quickly. He grunts in the back of his throat, hips jerking up on impulse before he controls himself and starts up a rhythm, rolling them slowly. Eventually he gets one condom off and rips it open, then pushes it into Jonghyun’s hands so he can do the rest.

He reaches up to feel around his headboard for the lube he keeps around here too. Before he can find it Jonghyun has already pressed the condom to the tip of his dick and rolled it down and then followed it down, all the way down, with his mouth, soft and wet and warm. Taemin’s fingers grip the headboard hard, nails digging into the wood, as a loud noise leaves his throat. He was kind of into this before and planning on gradually easing himself into the mood, but now his whole body flashes with heat and his skin tingles all the way to his fingertips. He’s trying to fuck his cock back up into Jonghyun’s mouth when Jonghyun pulls off with a soft pop.

“Shut up,” he hisses, “the door’s not even fucking closed. Don’t be rude.”

“Fuck, Jonghyun,” Taemin growls in reply. He twists his free hand into Jonghyun’s hair to push him back down, to encourage him to suck him deep again. “You’re so good, fuck.” He forgot just how good Jonghyun was. He hasn’t fucked him in a while. With Jonghyun’s breathy chuckle in his ears he goes back to searching for his lube, fingers scrabbling weakly as Jonghyun sucks him back down, takes him all the way to the back of his perfect throat. When he finally grabs it he passes it down clumsily, smushes it against Jonghyun’s cheek with shaky hands. “Here here here,” he breathes, trying to both tug Jonghyun off of his cock and push him further down at the same time. Jonghyun pulls up just enough to glance at it, licks his lips and wipes spit off of his bottom lip with his thumb.

“Oh, that works too,” he mutters. He grabs the bottle and shifts up to his knees above Taemin’s dick. Before Taemin can even ask what he means by that, Jonghyun squirts a glob of lube into his hand, smears it over Taemin’s cock, and lines it right up to his asshole, shivering as he rubs the head over it slowly. Taemin’s eyes widen and his hands shoot to Jonghyun’s hips.

“Wait, fuck–don’t you–did you–fuck.” Jonghyun interrupts his half baked questions by sitting himself all the way down on Taemin’s cock, no prep or anything but still somehow so loose and relaxed. He wiggles himself on Taemin’s hips with a slack smile, his eyes closed, and he puts both hands on Taemin’s chest to steady himself. Taemin doesn’t even mind that his left hand is still all lubey on his shirt. He paps his hands weakly over Jonghyun’s hips and to his booty, feeling him up, holding him open and running his fingers over where his cock is buried deep inside of him.

“Did you get fucked last night or what,” he breathes jealously. He knows Jonghyun is used to taking dick but all of the times they’ve fucked he’s always had to finger himself at least a little bit to get ready. Jonghyun chuckles softly as he starts slowly riding Taemin’s cock, pulling himself up and then dropping back down at a lazy pace.

“I fucked myself, yeah,” he says. “I do it a lot more often now, ever since I realized you don’t wake up for anything at night.”

“Oh,” Taemin says. “Fuck.” That’s actually pretty hot. Jonghyun panting on his bed just on the other side of the room, whimpering and hissing as he pushes a thick dildo into himself in the darkness. “Fuck,” Taemin says again. His eyes slide shut as he tips his head back into the pillows and wraps an arm tight around Jonghyun’s waist. He finally remembers to start rolling his hips up to meet Jonghyun and they both bite back soft moans at the feeling.

Their fuck is slow and lazy; Taemin is too sleepy to really give it his all and he assumes that Jonghyun doesn’t want to get all sweaty again right after he just took a shower. They get to the nut part anyway, and it’s like a warm flow of lava that rolls through Taemin’s veins and sizzles under his skin. He groans through his teeth as he fills the condom, Jonghyun jerking himself off with quiet, shaky gasps of breath until he comes in white lines over Taemin’s stomach and a little bit on his shirt where he didn’t push it up far enough.

As he breathes slowly and plays little lines over Jonghyun’s skin and waits for his heart rate to go back to normal, Taemin dimly registers appreciation that Jonghyun is pulling the condom off and tying it into a little knot for him. He can never do it with his clumsy fingers, and especially not when he’s all hazy from an orgasm. After he feels Jonghyun lean over to drop it in the shared garbage bin between their beds he lifts a lazy hand to find Jonghyun’s neck and pulls him down for a sloppy kiss.

“How much time until I gotta be ready now?” he asks. Jonghyun snorts, kisses his mouth, the corner of his lips, his cheek, and then licks his cheek when Taemin whines about his lip spit. While Taemin is glaring at him and wiping his cheek Jonghyun checks the time.

“Not enough,” is the answer that he gives. He wiggles off of Taemin and stretches his arms over his head with a pleased squeak, then fluffs up Taemin’s hair and turns to his dresser to find some clothes. “Shower, kiddo,” he says. “I’ll make you breakfast while you’re in there.” Taemin laughs softly as he lurches into a sitting position and rubs his palms into his eyes.

“For what, a ‘thank you’ present?” he asks. Jonghyun snorts again and shakes his head before he pulls a shirt over it.

“So we won’t be late,” he says. “Don’t get cocky just because you got laid,” he adds. Then he pauses, and then a bright little smile pulls up his lips. “Hehe, cocky,” he says. “Cocky, like–get it?”

Both of them sit there in the dark room and giggle at each other until Taemin’s last minute alarm goes off and startles him into scuttling out of bed. In the shower as he soaps himself all up, he smiles to himself. One out of three down and he hasn’t even had breakfast.

~

His solo segment of the photoshoot done, Taemin leans against the little snack table in the back and watches Jinki do his poses in between scanning all of the staff to see if any of them would be a good number two. Not for the first time does he curse his dick’s inexplicable lust for women that can and will break him in half if he so much as looks at them hopefully. All of the ladies he wants to talk to are way too intimidating and would have no time for his boner bullshit. All of the other ones are probably nice enough but he hasn’t flirted with anyone in so long that he’s not confident that he would be able to do it without fucking up. A few of the guys around are hot also, but all of them are firmly blocked off by the closet door, which is a real shame.

He’s sucking absentmindedly on an orange wedge when Minho comes walking up to grab a snack himself. Taemin gives him an orange smile and a nod of the head.

“Hey,” he says through his wedge. Minho does that silent, breathy laugh of his as he gets to the table. He avoids all of the food and just leans back against it, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“Hey Tae,” he says back. He doesn’t say anything other than that so Taemin assumes he just wants to chill quietly like they do sometimes and goes back to searching for someone to frick. Every so often as he’s looked Jinki has caught his eye between camera flashes and thrown him a smile. They look innocent enough but Taemin knows. He can just tell. He can feel in his soul that Jinki is thinking baby loser boi at him.

He’s probably not, really, but Taemin likes to pretend he is to keep his focus on his goal.

His phone vibrates in his pocket then; he glances at it, pats his pocket lazily to confirm, and then just reaches to throw his orange slice away and grab another one. He's sucking on that when his phone vibrates again. He rolls his eyes at whoever’s texting him. Everyone knows he’s busy and he can’t check his phone during work. Every time he does that he forgets to put it back in his pocket and just leaves it somewhere to be lost forever.

Maybe that pretty light holder, Taemin thinks. She looks equal parts tough and easygoing. She’s also probably the only light holder, though, he thinks, scrunching his nose. They probably don’t have backups for that job in case the main one sneaks off to go fuck a model. Damn.

When his phone vibrates a third time Taemin huffs, reaching to pat his pocket again. He should put it on sil–

“Dude, check your fucking texts,” Minho mutters. He kicks Taemin’s ankle, too, but when Taemin glances at him he’s still blandly absorbed in his phone. Taemin snorts. Oh. It was Minho . Alright then. Wiggling his phone out of his pocket, he puts in his password and then opens up his texts to see what Minho had to tell him that he couldn’t say out loud.

From: Minjo 1:34pm

I’m stressed:(

From: Minjo 1:34pm

Wanna go fuck

From: Minjo 1:36pm

I looked around there’s an empty room down the hall from the bathrooms

“Oh,” Taemin says out loud. He bites back too big of a grin. Oh, fuck yeah. Here he was worrying about who his number two would be, and his number two just came right to him. He didn’t know why he didn’t think of this before, with how many times they’ve done this together. He grabs a third orange wedge and holds it in his mouth so he can use both hands to text back.

To: Minjo 1:38pm

ye sure we got like wat 25mins til th other 3 r dun??

From: Minjo 1:38pm

Why do you type like a twelve year old

To: Minjo 1:39pm

d u wanna get in my butt or wat

From: Minjo 1:40pm

Am I called minjo in your phone??? What the fuck??? Change that

To: Minjo 1:40pm

no

To: Minjo 1:42pm

quit tryin 2 tke my cell!!1!

To: Minjo 1:43pm

ur wastin time!!!

From: Minjo 1:43pm

You’re an awful gremlin let’s go fuck

Taemin grins wide even as Minho grabs his elbow in a grumpily hard grip and tugs him away from the table. Taking care to stuff his phone into his pocket, he wiggles his arm free and then just slings it casually around Minho's shoulder.

“I love and cherish you a lot,” he smiles. Minho rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“I know you’re just saying that to be obnoxious, but I also know that you really mean it, so.” He sighs with a shrug. Taemin grins smugly. That’s exactly the reaction he was going for.

He lets Minho carry him out of the main shooting room, passed their dressing room, passed the bathrooms, and into another room down the hall. Looking around, it looks like just another dressing room. Taemin hops up onto the makeup desk, back to the mirror, and smiles lazily at Minho as he peeps around the room for the light switch. When he pops on the dim orb lights above Taemin’s head and looks over, he catches sight of Taemin’s smirk and frowns.

“What?” he asks. Taemin smiles wider.

“How come I’m always the one you go to for dirty little quickies?” he asks. Minho blinks at him, then looks down to push his hair out of his face as he walks forward and pretends he's not avoiding the question.

“It’s not always you,” he says when he looks back up. Taemin cocks a brow, spreading his legs to let Minho stand between them and frown at him close up.

“No?” he asks. That’s a lie. Taemin knows. He knows when Minho and Jonghyun fuck, they take their time, because Jonghyun likes to flutter around in low swooping sweats after and pretend he’s not showing off the finger bruises and hickeys on his hips. He knows when Minho and Kibum fuck they take a while because he can hear them, quiet murmurs and heavy thuds through the wall in the dorm until a sudden shhhh, and then a long while later one of them stepping into the shower. Jinki and Minho haven’t fucked in a while, that’s true, but that’s because they were actually dating for a while and since they fell out of that they’ve been avoiding sex until they can make sure their emotions won’t go causing any problems.

But with Taemin?

“When we fuck it’s always like this,” he murmurs. Minho leans in to kiss him; then he hesitates. They both have lipgloss to make their lips look plush and kissable for the photos and they’re both tired of having their stylists sigh at them for messing it up. Taemin hooks his fingers in the hem of Minho's ugly car print shirt instead and ghosts his lips over his collarbones. “You always drag me off to some dark room so we can get each other off and then pretend like it never happened.”

“You never complained before,” Minho grumbles. One of his hands braces on the counter next to Taemin’s hip, and the other pushes up the hem of his shirt enough that he can get to the zipper of his shorts. Taemin shifts his hips forward to help him out, smiling against his skin and breathing deep. Of all of Minho's endless handsomeness it’s always his scent, the crisp smell of his skin and sweat barely noticeable under cologne and makeup, that gets Taemin hard.

“I’m not complaining,” he says. He trails his own hands down to Minho's shorts to feel up for his dick. “Just curious why I’m apparently your dirty little secret.” It’s kind of exciting, honestly. The other three never get to have this much fun during shoots.

“Well, it was because you were always quiet when we did,” Minho mutters. He gets his hand into Taemin’s shorts while Taemin chuckles into his chest. Oh. “And ‘cause you’re quiet after,” Minho adds. “You know the other three like to brag about sex but I get flustered about it. You don’t care.” He shrugs, and then he pulls Taemin’s cock out and strokes him a few times, and then Taemin stops caring. He guesses Minho was right about him.

He grips Minho's shirt, hissing softly and rolling his hips forward, before he remembers they still have to take pictures after this and just grips his bicep instead. Minho's pulls his hand back to spit into it before returning it to his cock. Taemin shivers, skin tingling all over, and brings one hand to pat his pockets for the lube he brought with him this morning. It’s not in his photoshoot outfit; it’s back in the dressing room in his skinnies thrown over his bag. He curses softly and just continues his quest into Minho's pants instead.

Minho is already fully hard in his hand, which is pretty impressive, considering all they’ve done is bicker and not kiss. He must be extra stressed. How he’s able to funnel any kind of stress or anxiety into sexual energy Taemin has no idea, but he at least he’s learned how to get him off quickly and get it all out of him. He tugs Minho closer, so he can close his legs around his hips, squeezing him just the way he likes, and spits into his own hand to ease the way.

A baby loser boi wouldn’t be so attentive and caring, a voice in the back of his head says, and he smothers his laugh in Minho's ugly shirt.

“What?” Minho hums. He fits his chin on Taemin’s head, his other hand holding him close by the waist, and his hand still jerks Taemin’s cock quick and tight. It would be hard for Taemin to give him an answer even if he had a good one; he shakes his head and slides his free hand down to push Minho's shorts down further.

“Nothing,” he breathes. He cups Minho's balls in his hand gentle, rubbing his thumb over them just the way he likes, and smirks when he hears him hiss. From there it’s simple, routine; they’ve done this enough times to have each other coming apart in minutes.

Minho is so close to him, the skin of his neck right in front of him in the darkness. He’s radiating warmth, smells so good, feels so big and heavy, like he’s a blanket covering Taemin, almost smothering him with his presence. Every flick of his steady wrist on Taemin’s cock makes Taemin suck in a sharp lungful of air. Taemin aches to bite Minho's neck, but he can’t; he aches to bite his own lips, but he shouldn’t. Instead he just chews on the insides of his cheeks, sucking them further and further in as the heat inside of him grows bigger and bigger.

Minho nuts first, which is unusual. Usually it’s Taemin first, but also usually Taemin hasn’t already nutted that day, so. It catches him off guard, makes him pull back and whisper curses as he fumbles to cover the head of Minho's cock, to get as much as possible on his hands instead of on their outfits.

That takes up so much of his concentration that he doesn't even notice the painful grip that Minho has on his waist. When he does notice it, he winces and says, "ow, dude." He never knew Minho had such a death grip. He's always been too orgasm loopy to notice it, he guesses. While Minho puts his hands on the counter on either side of Taemin’s hips instead, catching his breath, Taemin carefully holds his hands behind his back to look at them. Jizz drips down them and almost onto the floor before he twists them to stop it. "Gross," he mumbles this time.

"Here," Minho mumbles back. He pushes himself up straight (Taemin quickly moves his hands away so he doesn't get any on the back of his ugly shirt). Digging in his pocket, he pulls out a packet of tissues and hands one over. Taemin takes it gratefully, wiping his hands clean, and then accidentally rips it in half when Minho starts jerking him off again. He whispers another curse, heavier this time as his hips jerk up, and brings his hands back down to the counter to give himself something to hold onto.

Minho is smirking at him, so he rolls his eyes and then closes them, tilting his head to breathe out slow towards the ceiling. When he looks back down, he frowns because Minho isn't there anymore. But his hand is still on Taemin’s cock, which is even more confusing. Looking even further down, he's surprised to find Minho on his knees between his legs.

"Hey," he says, voice shaky, panic rising in him as Minho licks his lips. "Don't, hey, you're going to get–" Minho kisses the head of his cock, mouth so soft and pretty and red and sticky with lip gloss, so sticky his bottom lip takes longer to leave than the rest of his mouth. "You're going to get in trouble," Taemin whispers, breathless. "With– stylist, you're going to–"

"That's fine," Minho says, and then his mouth is around Taemin’s cock and the breath is catching in Taemin’s lungs.

This isn't fair, this isn't fair, this is so not fair. His hands twitch, jerk, want desperately to tangle into Minho’s perfectly styled hair, but they can't. He can't fuck his hips up in this position either. He can't even pull his own hair. All he can do is sit here and take it, sit here and slap his hands desperately on the counter while Minho bobs his head further and further down onto his cock.

It gets lost a lot in all of the hype around Taemin's lips, Jonghyun's a close second, but Minho really does have the perfect mouth for sucking cock. His lips a perfect circle, thick and soft but still able to stretch thin in the most gorgeous way, lip gloss making them glisten and leaving messy smudges all along the shaft of Taemin's cock. His jaw sharp but his cheeks soft, perfect when he sucks and hollows them out, perfect when he goes slack and takes Taemin far into the back of his throat. His eyelashes, short but still long enough to fan out pretty over his cheeks with his eyes closed. His short brown hair just long enough to fall perfectly messy over his forehead.

Taemin would be able to come just from watching Minho suck dick, so it's a miracle honestly that he lasts even a couple of minutes before he covers his mouth with his still sticky fingers to muffle his grunt as he finally releases into that perfect perfect mouth.

He leans far back on his hands after, relaxed, boneless, limp like a little noodle boi, eyes closed again as he smiles at the ceiling. This turned out so much better than he expected. A hand tugs at his shirt collar; he lets Minho pull him to sit up straight, and then leans forward until he's leaning against him, nuzzling his cheek into his neck and smirking as he curses and quickly tries to hold his weight.

Minho gets him steady after a moment, then pokes his sides, but Taemin is too lazy to be ticklish right now. He just fumbles between their bodies to put his dick away and then slides off of the counter, giving Minho a lazy hug. Minho hugs him back, of course, warm and snuggly and perfect.

"You're welcome," he mumbles into Minho’s ugly shirt. Minho's laugh rumbles in his chest and Taemin nestles closer until Minho gently pushes him away.

"You too, Taem," he says fondly. "Let's get back before they notice we're gone."

"Okie dokie," Taemin giggles, letting Minho wrap an arm around his shoulders and lead him first to the bathroom to clean up and then back out onto the set. He's extra bubbly now, and not just because he got his dick sucked.

Two down, one to go, and he has the whole rest of the day to do it. This should be a piece of cake.

~

It's not a piece of cake.

Or, rather, it's like a piece of cake that Taemin tried to make himself, by which he means, it's an absolute disaster with no usable results.

No one else at the photoshoot was interested. No one even noticed his attempts to flirt, except the one girl that did and just looked him up and down, rolled her eyes, and walked away. And then it's not like he was going to hook up with anyone at the restaurant they all hit after, or during the radio show when they barely showed up on time and then left as soon as it was over. He was hoping they could at least hit a club or something after that since they had the rest of the day free, but all three of their managers shot him down when he asked. Even manager Minho, and Taemin thought he was his favorite.

What's worse is that he thinks that Jonghyun did go out club hopping with Minho and they just got away with it by saying they were going to go find a convenience store really quick for some snacks. Taemin doesn't know what kind of convenience store involves selfies sent to the group chat of a dance floor and cute babes, but he does know that if all he had to do was lie then he wouldn't have asked the managers in the first place.

Now he's just here, at the dorm, alone, because he was too bummed about not finding a number three to want to go out to dinner with the other members and the managers and have to look at Jinki's smug ass face. At least he's here alone in the dorm for a while which means that he can spoil himself in the bathroom. He's already helped himself to one of Jonghyun's face masks and is very much appreciating his nice soft skin while he looks through all of the rest of the crap that they buy here in Japan every time they come and then forget to pack up and take home later. Maybe he is a sad little baby loser boi but at least he has cucumber–

"Oh– jesus, you're still in here?"

Taemin jumps as the bathroom door suddenly bangs open, knocking over half of the bottles and creams on the counter, Kibum watching all of them clatter into the sink or onto the floor.

"I'm not picking all of those up," he says. "Have you been in here this whole time?"

"Fuck you," is what Taemin decides to reply with. He can spend as long as he wants in the bathroom. He didn't even think he'd been in here for that long. "You guys already finished dinner?" He asks.

"Yeah, but then all of the old men wanted to go to a bar, but like, a boring one, and the other two wouldn't tell me what club they were at, so I came back here to shower."

"Hmm," Taemin says, and then Kibum invites himself inside without asking. Taemin kind of just lets him, stepping aside and scratching the back of his head awkwardly. He guesses he doesn't really have a right to kick Kibum out of here, either.

He also guesses, in a moment of dawning realization, that if Jonghyun and Minho are still at the clubs, and Jinki and the managers are out drinking, and Kibum is here, and he is here, then. Him and Kibum are both here. Together. Alone. He watches Kibum go back on what he said not even a minute ago and start picking up all of the bottles in the sink, putting them back nicely, and bites his lip.

It's still today. It would still count. Kibum likes him. Taemin annoys him, and Kibum says that he doesn't like him all the time, but he does. Taemin knows it. The two of them have fucked before. What's the worst that would happen if he asked? Kibum calls him a gremlin and makes him go away? Kibum does that to him all the time.

Besides, it's not like he's going to get another surprise extra last chance like this tonight. He has to take this one, legally, or else he will definitely be baby loser boi. Forever.

"Hey, do you want to fuck really quick?" Taemin asks. Just like that. No context or preamble or anything. Kibum doesn't need it.

Kibum does, however, stop where he's leaning close to the mirror, makeup remover wipe halfway to his face, and turn to look at Taemin.

Taemin smiles back hopefully, doing his best to look like a cute gremlin instead of an annoying gremlin. He doesn't think it works, because Kibum rolls his eyes and looks back to himself in the mirror.

"Why are you so goddamn horny today?" He asks, swiping the wipe over one eye. "First Jonghyun and you not knowing how to close a fucking door this morning, and then I know you and Minho snuck off during the photo shoot, and everyone saw how desperate you were to hook up with one of the staff." He pauses there to throw Taemin a quirked eyebrow in the mirror. Taemin scrunches his face at him. Rude. He doesn't need to be judged. Any more than he already is being. He doesn't need extra judgment just because he got shot down by a hot girl.

Kibum folds his makeup wipe in half and starts rubbing away his other eye. "Why do you want a hat trick so bad?" he asks.

And that actually gets Taemin to pouting. He wasn't that obvious, was he?

"Jinki told me I couldn't do it," he whines. "He told me I was baby loser boi."

"Oh my god." and now Kibum is laughing, choking on it almost, turning to shove Taemin's shoulder, all of his previous emotions replaced by surprise and joy. "I was joking, dude, are you serious?" And then, when Taemin puts his face in his hands, wallowing in the shame of his mistake, Kibum laughs even harder. God. Bad. Everything about this situation that Taemin has made for himself is bad now.

"I'm leaving," he says, turning to leave with his face still in his hands. "Goodbye don't talk to me–"

"No wait, come back," Kibum says quickly, through his laughter. He grabs Taemin's arm and tugs him back. "I'll fuck you," he says.

"Really?" Taemin asks, hopeful again. Like, really really? If he agrees to fuck then Taemin doesn't mind about being laughed at anymore. Kibum nods, shrugs, pushes his fingers through his hair, gosh he's so pretty sometimes.

"Yeah, sure," he says. "Jinki made like a hundred puns at dinner and I know he was doing it just to be annoying. This will get him back good enough for me."

God, Taemin loves how much being petty can really bring people together to do great things.

"You have condoms, right?" Kibum asks. "I wouldn't put my dick raw into your ass in a hundred years."

"Yeah I do give me a minute," Taemin says quickly, bolting happily out of the bathroom. He doesn't even care that Kibum just insulted his bootyhole. He makes extra sure to grab the lube, too, since apparently he's bottoming, and then scuttles back. When he skids into the bathroom he also kicks a bottle of perfume still on the floor, and he very easily ignores that in favor of bouncing on his toes and showing Kibum .

Kibum, already back to wiping his makeup off, gives him a quick once-over, eyebrows raised, and then nods his head towards the shower. "I need a minute," he says. "Get the water warm for me."

And Taemin almost blasts off into the stratosphere right there because not only is he getting his hat trick, he's also getting shower sex. Fuck yeah. Dreams do come true.

He cranks the water on hot, throws the lube and a condom square onto the shelf in there, and strips. He makes sure to do so in a way that is annoying and showy so Kibum has to notice him in the mirror, but not so obnoxious that he changes his mind. It's a very delicate balance that Taemin has perfected. When he's done, he checks the water, decides it's warm enough, and slips in, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

Since he's here, he shampoos his hair and slorps some conditioner through it, and from there it's easy. All he has to do is finger himself a little bit– he's no Jonghyun– and get into the mood. He grabs the lube, pops it open, and starts working on working himself open. It's a familiar enough feeling; he prefers topping because it's easier but he always does love the stretch, the pressure, the feeling of being so full. He thinks bottommy thoughts as he goes to really get himself all worked up: hips between his legs, hands on his butt, calling shotgun, fingers in his mouth....

The tiniest moan spills from his lips as that thought really gets to him. He puts two fingers into his mouth, sucking on them, leaning on the cold tile wall, rocking his hips back onto his fingers while his half chub immediately jumps up to massive hard-on.

"Hey, don't nut in there without me," Kibum calls.

"Hurry up," Taemin whines around his fingers.

Kibum takes his sweet time, so much so that when he finally does peel back the shower curtain and step in, Taemin is practically desperate, not that he’ll admit it. Kibum’s smirk says that he knows anyway.

Thankfully, he's nice enough to not make Taemin wait any longer, and all he says is a confident "hey" before one hand is on Taemin's hip and the other is tugging his hand away from his booty by the wrist. He pushes Taemin's chest fully up against the tile wall, so cold and hard compared to the soft kisses he drops onto his neck.

"Did Jinki bet you anything for this or is it just a pride thing?" he asks under Taemin's ear. Taemin, so focused on the big hand on his hip, the hard cock pressed against his butt, the snap of the lube bottle as Kibum slicks himself up, has to think really hard about what all of those words mean when they're all put together like that.

Kibum scoots him half a step forward and the tip of his cock brushes the wall, a full body shiver running down his spine.

"He," he manages, "he called me baby loser boi."

"So you’ve said," Kibum hums.

"I'm not baby loser boi," Taemin pouts.

"If you say so," Kibum says, and then, instead of letting Taemin reply, he lines his cock up to his asshole and pushes all the way in in one smooth, slow, perfect movement.

Taemin groans low in his throat the entire time.

When Kibum bottoms out, he hums happily, hooking his chin over Taemin's shoulder. Taemin can feel the smile against his jaw as he asks, "you good?"

Taemin isn't good in the sense that he feels so fucking perfect and he got himself so fucking worked up that he feels like he's about to explode already, but he is good in the way that he knows Kibum means, so, panting, trembling, he nods and rocks his hips back and says, "yes, yes, fuck me, come on.”

Kibum kisses his jaw, says, "good," and then straightens up, leans back, pulls his cock out, pushes it back in almost agonizingly slow.

And that, Taemin remembers suddenly, is the thing about fucking Kibum. How he has so much practice and control that he can almost drive Taemin up the wall. He can almost overwhelm him, almost make him absolutely lose it, and it's that same, consistent almost that makes Taemin sure that he's doing it on purpose. He knows Kibum could nut him out of his own brain in a heartbeat if he felt like it and knowing that gets him, without fail, every single time, shivering with anticipation that maybe Kibum will actually do it one day.

Not today, though. Today he goes slow, lazy, fucks in hard and deep and takes his time doing it. Taemin can't tell if it's because he's tired after a long day or because he wants to tease him but either way, if Taemin goes through another minute of this he'll be dangerously close to begging. It's just so good, the stretch, the push and the pull, the contrast of the cold wall and the hot water and Kibums warm skin, his hand smoothing up his back and cupping his jaw, thumb at the corner of his lips.

Taemin turns his head, just to try to suck Kibum's thumb into his mouth, and somehow manages to lose his balance at the same time. Kibum catches him, chuckling, teasing, as he whines about it. Taemin is both thankful and not thankful for that; sure he didn't fall and crack his head open on the tub, but now Kibum's hand, thumb included, are around his waist and that is way too far away from his mouth. He needs something in his mouth, on his mouth, something to play with, something to suck on, he needs, he needs–

"Kiss," he says, trying to turn around in Kibums arms. "Kiss, Kibummie, I want kiss, please–" and just like that, Kibum is pulling out and turning him around, though instead of leaning in, he pushes Taemin gently so he's touching the wall again. His back not used to the sharp cold of it, Taemin hisses, arching away, into Kibum's big hand that pushes him right back. He's smirking, too, the dickhead, and he doesn't do anything else other than wait for Taemin to calm down and relax against the tile.

Then, eyebrows raised, fingers styling Taemin's hair not out of his face but pulling it to hang in front of his eyes, he says, "You're always so baby when you bottom, Taem."

"Only when it's you fucking me," Taemin says, and then, to avoid dealing with the embarrassment of that blurted admittance, grabs Kibum’s face and presses their mouths together.

It's a very weird and awkward kiss until Kibum stops laughing into his mouth, and then it gets very warm and good.

So good that, as soon as Kibum grabs one of his thighs and hikes his leg up around his waist and starts fucking him again, it only takes Taemin another minute or two before he's gasping and shuddering through his third orgasm of the day.

He does his best to not go limp and instead clings harder to Kibum, letting him keep going, enjoying the aftershocks, the extra sensitivity, and moaning softly into his ear the way he likes the most. It does the trick; before long, Kibum's own orgasm hits and he's probably pressing bruises into Taemin's waist as he fills the condom.

Kibum always takes what feels like forever to come out of his orgasm brain, but eventually, after a while of Taemin petting all of the hairspray out of his wet hair, he sucks in a big breath against his neck and says, "Hey, when you're bragging about this to Jinki tomorrow, make sure you tell him I did it specifically to piss him off."

"Sure," Taemin laughs. That's fine. A favor for a favor. No problem.

"Good," Kibum says. He steps away and turns them both in a circle so Taemin is closer to the shower curtain. "Now get out of here," he says.

Taemin obeys without protest. Well, almost. He makes sure to reach around and cop a feel of Kibum's booty before he steps out of the shower.

Outside, dripping onto the bath mat, smirking at Kibum's indignant grumbling, Taemin lets the accomplishment fill up his entire body. Hell yeah. Fuck yeah. He did it.

He did it!! He did it he did it he got his hat trick! He does a little happy dance to himself right there in the middle of the bathroom, just because he's so overjoyed at actually pulling it off that he can't not. Hell fucking yeah. Baby loser boi his ass. He does have it in him and he is not a baby loser and Jinki– and Naruto Man– can suck his ass.

He looks around the bathroom, pushing his hand through his hair and looking for a towel, and then stops when his hand immediately feels gross and greasy. Looking at it with a grimace, he sees goopy white and remembers. Oh yeah, right. Conditioner.

"Hey let me back in," he says, pulling the shower curtain open and inviting himself in without waiting for Kibum to answer.

~

It's a variety show filming and then back home the next morning, and he doesn't wake up until Jonghyun wakes him up again, so Taemin doesn't have alone time private enough with Jinki to brag until they're sitting in the airport cafe waiting for their plane to board.

They're split between two tables; Kibum, Minho, and the managers at one, and Jinki, Jonghyun and Taemin at the other. Jonghyun is absorbed in his phone, headphones in, so as soon as Taemin gets his coffee and sits down, he leans obnoxiously against Jinki's shoulder and smiles very close to his cheek.

"Yes, baby loser boi?" Jinki asks mildly, not looking up from his own phone. He smirks as he says it, but this time, Taemin does too.

"Ah, but, see," Taemin says, leaning harder to really get his attention. "I am not. Baby loser boi. Factually. Scientifically proven."

"Yeah?" Jinki asks, raising his brows. "How do you figure that?"

"Because," Taemin says, "i did it."

And now Jinki finally looks away from his phone. Clicking it off, putting it in his pocket, and taking a sip of his drink, he turns to put his elbow on the table and face Taemin. Taemin faces him with his greatest accomplished smile. He is very proud of himself and he is not going to hide any of it.

"Did what?" Jinki asks. To reply, all Taemin does is tap the brim of his snapback. The same one that he was wearing two days ago, that he "forgot" to give back. Jinki glances up at it, then does a double-take, eyes going wide. His mouth pops open in a silent gasp before he all at once leans close and squints and whispers, "you did not."

"I did, though," Taemin says. And then he absolutely revels in the absolute befuddlement on Jinki's face. The confusion. The disbelief. The incredulity. He loves it.

"With who?" He demands, except he’s still talking in a low tone, so the severity of it is lessened very much. Again, Taemin chooses to point instead of reply out loud, and he watches as Jinki follows his finger around the little cafe to each of their members in turn. "Jonghyun barely counts, it's supposed to be a challenge, he would bend over for any– okay, yeah, Minho is fair– how the fuck did you get Kibum to--? Wait."

Jinki whips around with one of the sharpest frowns Taemin has ever seen on his face. "You were actively trying to get a hat trick yesterday and you fucked everyone in the band except me? Me? The one that knew what you were doing? The one that would have been the easiest to convince? Hello?"

"My dude, the entire point was to be petty," Taemin grins. "Why the fuck would I let you get in on it?" Jinki was never for a millisecond on his list of potential fuckees. No way would Taemin give him such a good time after he called him baby loser boi and said he had a weird shaped head. "Speaking of," he adds, remembering his promise to Kibum last night, "Kibum said he did it specifically because you were pissing him off at dinner."

Jinki whips back around to find Kibum and frown at him, though he does it so dramatically that Taemin is sure that he's just doing it to be funny. For a moment, he seems confused, but then a familiar look of realization dawns on his face and he just looks proud of himself instead, raising his eyebrows at their bandmate. Kibum senses his gaze and looks up, looks between the both of them, and then a knowing smirk pulls up his lips. He gives Jinki a delicate middle finger and then an even more delicate wave before he turns back to his own conversation and Jinki turns back to Taemin.

"Worth it, honestly," he says. Taemin snorts. Of course.

"Anyway," he says. "You have to admit that I'm not baby loser boi. You said I couldn't get a hat-trick and I did so clearly you were wrong." Jinki was wrong and Taemin was right and he deserves to have that acknowledged.

"Mmm, actually," Jinki hums. He pulls his phone out again and starts scrolling through it, despite Taemin's immediate releaning upon his shoulder. "I think my actual words were, ‘baby loser boi doesn't have it in him to get a hat-trick.’ Not that you can't get a hat-trick because you are baby loser boi. So you are still, technically, baby loser boi. However." He holds up one finger before Taemin can even do more than furrow his brows and open his mouth in outrage. He smiles at Taemin from the corner of his eye. "I will concede that I underestimated you and that baby loser boi does have it in him."

“Hrmgrmgh.” Taemin grumbles to himself, pulling away from Jinki's shoulder to slump over the table and press his cheek into the grubby plastic. He guesses. If that's as good as he's going to get. Then he's going to have to accept it. And just make sure the terms of his redemption are clearer next time. "Fine," he mumbles.

Then, looking at a stray strand of blond hair on the table, he smiles to himself and adds slyly, "Naruto man."

Jinki's sigh is, Taemin thinks, an even greater satisfaction than he was hoping for in the first place.