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“And you’re sure you don’t want to join, right?” Taeyong is asking, his hand loosely curled around Doyoung’s wrist, wide eyes sparkling.
Doyoung swallows. “No, no. I’m good.” He tries to be subtle when he slips his wrist out of Taeyong’s grip. “Someone has to man the camera, remember?”
“That’s what tripods are for, hyung,” Donghyuck says as he enters the room. He’s wearing one of Johnny’s shirts, hem hanging all the way down to his thighs. It’s so long that it doesn’t even look like he’s wearing anything underneath it. Maybe he isn’t.
“We need a tripod?” Johnny’s voice calls out from the hallway. His head pops in the doorway a second later, wet hair hanging over his eyes. “Doyoungie changed his mind?”
Doyoung laughs. He might sound hysterical—he certainly feels it. “I didn’t, but thanks for asking. Again.” He sits down on Johnny’s bed, opposite Donghyuck’s, where they’ll all be soon enough. The phone—his own—in his hand feels heavy, nerves buzzing all over.
When he looks up, Donghyuck is watching him. He’s splayed sideways across Johnny’s bed like he owns it, leaning back on his elbows with his legs wide open. Doyoung pointedly focuses his gaze on Donghyuck’s face. He has that look in his eyes, the kind where he’s seconds away from saying something that will send Doyoung chasing after him. He doesn’t voice his thoughts, though, only cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow.
“What?” Doyoung asks, tone a touch too defensive. His voice sounds tinny in his head.
Donghyuck shrugs, big t-shirt sliding off a shoulder. “I’m just thinking.” He rolls his neck, his head falling back with a barely audible sigh leaving his lips. Doyoung follows the line of his neck, how the muscles in his neck and shoulders shift with each rotation. “Thinking about how horny I am.” When he lifts his head back up he’s grinning, looking Doyoung straight in the eyes. “Thinking about how the 10th floor hyungs are gonna love this.”
Taeyong laughs at that, excitement visible in the shake of his shoulders, clicking his phone off and setting it down to come over to where Donghyuck is sitting. He settles in the vee where Donghyuck’s legs are open, letting a hand rest high on one of his thighs. Doyoung watches Taeyong’s thumb rub back and forth right under the fabric of Donghyuck’s short, short shorts. “I hope they watch it together.”
“Hell yeah.” Johnny walks in with just a towel around his hips and one around his head, drying off his damp hair. Doyoung shamelessly follows a water droplet’s travel from Johnny’s neck to the hollow of his collarbone, watches another’s slow descent as it runs down every defined ridge of his abs until it pools in his bellybutton. “They can finally put the fucking FIFA down and watch something worthwhile on that big TV in the living room.”
“They’ll probably end up watching it on their own, too,” Taeyong says excitedly, tapping that wandering hand on Donghyuck’s thigh. His fingers spread out when he stops, hand settling even higher than before.
“My money’s on Jaehyun and Jungwoo sharing Airpods then jerking it on their own beds like the great roomies they are,” Donghyuck chimes in.
“I’m pretty sure Mark’s gonna come in his pants trying not to think about it when he has to room with the manager,” Johnny adds.
“What do you think, Doyoung?” Taeyong asks, a little mean even though he’s smiling. “Who do you think’ll like it the most?”
Doyoung bites his tongue. There will be 9 people with access to the video once it’s done. Only 9 people will be allowed to watch something that would ruin them if it were to ever get beyond their hands. Something that’s going to ruin him when he watches it by himself in the dark of his room, blankets over his head as he bites down on a pillow so that Taeyong won’t be able to hear him through their thin walls and know. Know that he’s just a door away watching it over and over. He clears his throat before answering. “Don’t know. Maybe Yuta.”
Johnny laughs. “Guaranteed he’s gonna wake Taeil up by playing through the speakers.”
Doyoung carefully doesn’t bring up the unmentioned, the fact that they’ll all also be able to watch it whenever they want. Or how he’s the only one here who’s going to be doing any watching while it’s actually happening. He can feel Johnny, Taeyong, and Donghyuck’s gazes piercing through him, waiting for him to look up from the phone but he pretends that he’s looking at something. He feels his ears heating up, knows they’re probably red and saying everything he isn’t.
The thing is—filming this was sort of Doyoung’s idea. He’d brought it up when they were having a 5th floor family dinner, topic of the evening centered on their lack of privacy and freedom. Johnny was talking about how he felt overexposed lately, like fans had an all-access pass to their entire lives. Doyoung agreed with him but couldn’t help bringing up the fact that fans didn’t actually know everything. It was a tongue in cheek comment, mostly said just to disagree with Johnny, but Donghyuck zeroed in on him and pressed to know more.
“What don’t they know?” Donghyuck had asked, chin propped on his fist. “I think they know everything. Even what we’re having for dinner right now.”
Doyoung had rolled his eyes. “Because you sent pictures to bubble.” He chewed on his bottom lip before blurting the rest of it out, catching himself mid-sentence and turning it into something quieter so the dorm auntie wouldn’t hear. “They don’t know, like, our sex lives.”
“Why do you sound like that?” Taeyong asked, less than a second after Doyoung finished speaking.
Doyoung had cut his eyes over to Taeyong. “Like what?”
“Like you’ve been thinking about the fans thinking about our sex lives.” Donghyuck answered for Taeyong, just as quickly. “That look on your face! You want them to think about it.”
Doyoung would be lying if he said he's never spared a thought to it. Sometimes when he's on bubble he thinks about how easy it would be to accidentally upload something scandalous from his hidden folder. A few wrong clicks and anything could be out in the open. He thinks about the messages that would flood in, the different reactions, the headlines that would fill the front page. He would never—but. He's thought about it.
The thoughts of his career getting ruined in seconds usually shake him out of those fantasies, but sometimes he wonders.
There would be no point in lying, he supposed. Their random dinner discussions hardly held any weight outside of the dorm. “You could say that I’ve thought about things.”
“Things?” Taeyong prodded.
Donghyuck banged his fists on the table twice before chanting, “tell us! Tell us!”
“What exactly have you been thinking about, Doyoung? Recording an exclusive video for the fans? A tasteful clip? Maybe some pictures?” Johnny questioned. He folded his arms on the table and leaned in conspiratorially. “Or are you just going to keep everything locked away and hope it doesn’t get leaked?”
Taeyong and Donghyuck both crowed in delight at that, clapping like Johnny had Doyoung all figured out.
“Doyoung wants you to turn it into a JCC, Johnny,” Taeyong said, delighted. He hadn’t stopped smiling since he saw the first sign of embarrassment creeping in from the raise of Doyoung’s eyebrows.
Donghyuck giggled, waving his hands around. “No, he wants it on IGTV.”
Doyoung had crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, letting the guys make fun of him and get their laughs in, but he saw past that. He saw how their eyes lit up; curiosity piqued. The danger of it all made it thrilling. How often did they get to do things they shouldn’t and feel guilt-free about it? Rarely, if ever. Being under thousands of watchful eyes made them do strange things, sometimes. They’re performers, so why not perform?
If just the idea of doing something so outrageous and bizarre was enough to get them going like this at dinner, Doyoung could only imagine what it would be like to do it.
“I mean, what if we did, though?” Johnny had proposed. He’d been quieter than the other two, like he had thought about it while they were still laughing at Doyoung. “Recorded something just for the fun of it. Lock it away in Doyoung’s hidden folder of secrets after. We could even surprise the 10th floor while we’re at it, especially after what they did last week.”
And that—that had sparked a lot more conversation.
Somehow it all led to where they are now, in Johnny and Donghyuck’s room minutes away from doing something they shouldn’t.
“Anyway,” Johnny claps his hands together. “I say we get this show on the road.”
Donghyuck drops from his elbows to his back, groaning as he stretches his arms out over his head. Doyoung watches his lithe body elongate. “Finally.”
“Wait, hold up, I’m not doing any work,” Taeyong taps Donghyuck’s arm, elbowing at him until he moves enough for Taeyong to flop on the bed. “I’m the eye candy. Doyoung knows my best angles, right Doyoungie?”
Doyoung knows what Taeyong looks like very well. He’s very familiar with the knobs of Taeyong’s joints and the fluid curves of Taeyong’s body when he’s in motion.
“I can be eye candy, too” Donghyuck whines. He gets on his hands and knees to hover above where Taeyong’s laying and stretches out like a cat, back arching in a way that doesn’t seem humanly possible. His short, short shorts ride high, the plush curves of his ass on display. “Right, Doyoungie-hyung? Who do you think is prettier?”
“Both of you,” Doyoung manages to make himself say.
Johnny walks over to the edge of the bed, landing a hand on Donghyuck’s ass with a light smack. “And I get the best view.” He looks at Donghyuck, then Taeyong, and finally lands on Doyoung. Doyoung’s stomach swoops and he looks down at the phone in his hand. The screen is still black, showing his own sheepish reflection.
Doyoung’s hands are shaking, but he doesn’t think he’s nervous. He’s excited, nerves turned into liquid molten swirling in his gut, the anticipation moving him to the edge of Johnny’s bed so that he can be ready to move as soon as they start. He’ll have to be quiet once the recording starts in order to hold up the illusion they want to maintain. It’s supposed to come out like a fan’s dream POV, watching in on the three of them with unlimited access.
“Any last-minute requests, director?” Johnny asks Doyoung. Taeyong and Donghyuck are also looking at him from their spots on the bed.
“No,” Doyoung scratches at the back of his neck. Their sudden attention on him is polarizing when he’s been so focused on watching them move around. “Uh, just, you know. Do it like how we talked about. Put on a show.”
“We won’t disappoint you, director.” Taeyong smiles at him. There’s none of that teasing meanness from earlier, only a fond look Doyoung’s seen on his face a million times.
Well. Now or never.
He raises one hand and counts down out loud from five, putting a finger down with each number.
Doyoung presses record.
For the first few minutes, it's like he's watching it happen from outside his body. He's holding the camera—tilting it this and that way when needed, holding it steady when not, trying to get all of their limbs in the widescreen—but it's a subconscious action, his full attention on Donghyuck, Johnny, and Taeyong in real life and not the screen.
He watches with rapt attention as they undress each other. Donghyuck flings that stupidly large shirt off as soon as he can get his hands on it. Taeyong only budges his hips up just the tiniest bit so that Donghyuck and Johnny have to manhandle him to get his underwear off. Johnny wastes no time getting fully naked, towel thrown somewhere to the side, half-hard dick already hanging heavily between his thighs. An awful, strange curl of jealousy thrums through him as he watches how easily their hands roam over each other, no need for them to stop and awkwardly figure out who’s doing what. If he were someone who thought about this often, he’d imagine them just as they are in front of him. Familiar and tender.
That low-level liquid desire that was swirling in his gut only intensifies with every minute, looking to boil over. He’s jealous, he’s excited, he’s enraptured. The first kiss between Taeyong and Donghyuck makes his breath hitch. They kiss like they have to, skipping chasteness and going right to open mouths, fevered nips, the wet slide of their tongues visible on camera. From behind, Johnny kisses at the back of Donghyuck’s neck, a big palm firm around the base of his neck, the other trailing along his ribs.
Doyoung doesn’t know where to keep his eyes, darting all over, stopping to watch the travel of Donghyuck’s palm down Taeyong’s chest, then watching Taeyong fist a hand into Donghyuck’s hair. He can’t help but stare at how Donghyuck and Johnny are both palming at Taeyong’s cock, hands overlapping in a slow drag.
Doyoung wonders what they’ll do next. There’s no way Johnny will fit on the bed with the two of them, and Taeyong said he wasn’t budging. He watches them make out for a while when it clicks—Donghyuck in the middle. He can picture it already, Johnny fucking into him while he sucks on Taeyong’s cock, full on both ends, getting used by his hyungs.
It looks like Johnny can’t wait, because he peels himself off of Donghyuck’s back to reach around for the lube he dropped on the bed earlier. For the first time, the camera gets addressed.
“You wanna see me finger him?” Johnny waves the bottle of lube in the air. Doyoung balks, doesn’t know if he’s supposed to answer. Johnny decides for him, though, continuing on. “He loves this.” Doyoung glances at the phone screen. In the frame is Johnny spreading Donghyuck open with one hand, his other hand moving towards his hole, fingers already wet with lube as he traces them in a circle. He starts with one finger and he’s so gentle. Donghyuck is already busy at the other end, making soft sounds around Taeyong’s cock, loud enough to be heard from where the camera is. “I wish you could feel how tight he is.”
“He’s really good at this, too,” Taeyong says. He’s talking to the camera, Doyoung realizes. So, he turns the camera to Taeyong, sidles closer to where Donghyuck is letting Taeyong push up into his mouth, taking him in deep with ease. He trains the camera on Donghyuck's mouth, zooms in on the way his lips stretch around Taeyong's cock, sucking him in greedily, so well. Doyoung pans up slowly, makes sure to capture Taeyong’s body with as steady of a hand as he can. Taeyong's pretty like a doll, propped up on some pillows like he doesn't have a care in the world. Doyoung thinks he's ready to look at him directly by the time the camera reaches his face, but nothing could've prepared him for the flushed red of his cheeks, his hungry gaze, the almost imperceptible open-close of his mouth with every curl of Donghyuck's tongue around him. “So pretty. Everyone deserves to see this.”
“What should I do now?” Johnny asks the camera, getting Doyoung’s attention again. “Should I fuck him raw?” He pauses, like he’s actually waiting for an answer. In Doyoung’s head he says yes, and he feels himself nodding, an uncontrollable reaction. The camera now shows three of Johnny’s fingers deep in Donghyuck’s hole. Johnny laughs, like the question he asked would only be answered by an idiot. “Nah, you know we can’t do that.” Johnny laughs to himself again, reaching for a condom off to the side.
Right. Doyoung knows that. He was just caught up in the moment, thinking from a viewer’s standpoint. They would want to see Donghyuck get fucked bare. They would want Doyoung to get the shot right after Johnny pulls out, to see Donghyuck’s hole red and used, come leaking out of him and pooling down his crack. They won’t get that, though.
Doyoung's heart is hammering in his chest. He has to remind himself every time they do it—they're not talking to him. They're not. But when all three of them are like this, moaning over the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin while pausing to stare directly at him, the camera the only barrier between them, it's hard not to think otherwise. It's even harder when they don't stop with their commentary, filthy whispers reaching Doyoung's ear and shooting down straight to his dick. He feels hazardous, like watching this has all his wires exposed in the rain.
From somewhere above, Taeyong laughs. Doyoung almost forgot he was there, too focused on the way Johnny’s fingers keep sliding into Donghyuck, how the wet trails of lube can be seen so clearly on the screen. When he looks at Taeyong, he’s already watching him, his eyes half-lidded as his bony hands pinch his own nipples. His bottom lip is shiny, slick with saliva, and Doyoung wonders when the last time he got kissed was. Johnny should be kissing him right now. He doesn’t know how he almost forgot about Taeyong when he looks like this.
He steps back again to get them all in frame again. This, he knows, will get replayed. Donghyuck's mouth is full, but Johnny is rocking him back, pulling him down on his cock by his hips. Doyoung can see when Johnny slides home and nails Donghyuck's prostate because he pops off of Taeyong with a soft cry, eyes fluttering shut. He tries to put his mouth back on Taeyong but can't quite do it, reaching out to stroke him with a faltering hand instead. Taeyong only curls a hand behind his ear, whispering to him, telling him he's doing good, doing his best. Donghyuck, always a people pleaser, gets back into it, even though Doyoung can see it’s difficult for him to refocus his efforts. He mouths at the head of Taeyong’s cock, and Doyoung sees how Johnny pulls out until only the head of his cock is holding him open, waiting for Donghyuck to suck—and when he does Johnny fucks back into him, balls deep.
It’s a continuous rhythm, the three of them, seemingly never-ending. Doyoung captures it all, unable to look away. The throb of his dick in his sweats is an afterthought, secondary to what’s in front of him. After a while, minutes or hours, Taeyong starts whining, thighs twitching as he gets close. On screen, Doyoung can see him tap the side of Donghyuck’s head and he lifts off, resting his head on Taeyong’s hip, watching him while he strokes him to completion. Doyoung makes sure to move in closer to catch Taeyong at his climax, the way he curls into himself with an almost inaudible moan. He comes all over his stomach and Doyoung watches matching smiles appear on Donghyuck and Johnny’s faces.
He barely has a moment to register the looks on their faces before Donghyuck is lapping wetly at the mess on Taeyong’s belly. Taeyong doesn’t move, completely still for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Donghyuck makes a sound, beckoning Doyoung to move closer with the camera. When Doyoung is close enough Donghyuck opens his mouth, showing what he cleaned off of Taeyong. It’s obscene. It’s filthy. And Doyoung can’t control himself when he reaches forward, movement aborted when he catches himself.
“Do it,” he hears Johnny say. “Doyoung. Do it.” He glances up at Johnny, and his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t think that Johnny meant to say his name. He didn’t think that he’d be on camera at all, even if only his hand. Then again, it’s not like Doyoung can think right now, body autopiloted by how hard his dick is, no blood left in his brain to make structured decisions. So he does what he wants to—slips two fingers in Donghyuck’s mouth, presses down on his tongue and allows his eyes to slip shut when the flat of Donghyuck’s tongue pushes back against the pressure of his fingers, saliva mixing with come. He tries his best to stifle a moan, so it won’t be heard on camera when Donghyuck sucks on his fingers slowly, drawing them in until he’s three knuckles deep.
“Ah, I’m jealous,” he hears Taeyong say. Doyoung’s torn. He can only use one hand, the other one gripping pathetically at the camera, probably filming nothing but the damn ceiling. But he wants to give Taeyong what he wants, wants it to be on record that he’ll do it for him, let it be shown to anyone who watches that he’ll do whatever it takes to satisfy him.
Donghyuck pops off of his fingers to croon, “don’t cry, hyung, we can share.” Is Doyoung crying? He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Only knows that he feels like he’s being stretched at the seams, pulled in every direction all at once. It’s why he wanted to be behind the camera. He told himself that it was to have some control of the situation, but that’s a goal long lost. Maybe it’s for something else, like sparing himself from seeing how desperate he is.
Taeyong contorts his body, shifting around so that his head is next to Donghyuck’s. He looks up at the camera, at Doyoung, from under his lids before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the pad of Doyoung’s thumb before taking it into his mouth. He nips at it gently before drawing it in, dragging his tongue around Doyoung’s thumb and sucking on it. Belatedly, Doyoung remembers to straighten out the camera so he can see both of their faces pressed next to each other, the wet slide of their mouths getting filmed in HD as they suck on Doyoung’s fingers like sweet candy.
“Look at that,” Johnny says, “Whoever said NCT can’t get in sync hasn’t seen this yet.” He’s still fucking into Donghyuck, a lazier pace now, but like it’s only to hold off from coming.
He gets behind Johnny, angles the camera so that it can catch Johnny’s cock disappearing in and out of Donghyuck’s hole, tiptoeing quietly so that the sounds of lube squelching can be heard loud and clear on playback. He’s transfixed, mesmerized by the steady rhythm Johnny’s keeping—faster now that the camera is back on him—stunned by the power in the pistoning of his hips. Every time he bottoms out Donghyuck makes the softest punched out sounds, sweet little whines that ring like melodies in Doyoung’s ears.
"You're doing great," Taeyong murmurs, petting Donghyuck’s hair, "everyone watching is so proud of you. Taking it like a champ. So talented, our ace."
Donghyuck moans against the skin of Taeyong’s hip, eyes fluttering shut when Johnny fucks into him particularly deep. Doyoung wonders what it’ll be like to watch this part back, if he’d imagine himself in Donghyuck’s space, or in Johnny’s position.
Johnny really picks up the pace, moving hard and deep, reaching a hand around to stroke Donghyuck in time with his thrusts. A director’s dream, they both come at the same time, slumping over Taeyong’s lax body, breathing heavy.
There’s silence. A satisfactory completion that smells distinctly of sex drifting through the air.
It almost pains him to press stop. To be burdened with the task of ending it so that their silent afterglow won’t be recorded. Only he gets to watch them like this, sated and languid. Maybe only he deserves the privilege.
He almost expects it to feel like the other shoe has dropped. The gravity of the situation probably should be sinking in—the fact that he filmed his group members, the people he lives with, having sex—but he doesn’t feel fundamentally different. The only thing that really registers is how he’s the only one hard now. The only one sitting over on Johnny’s bed, fully clothed with his dick straining in his pants.
He doesn’t think he’s ever been this quiet for this long around the members before. He just doesn’t know what to say.
“Oh,” Taeyong says, rolling his head to where Doyoung is sitting. “We almost forgot about you, Doyoungie.”
“We didn’t forget,” Johnny throws a hand cloth over for Taeyong. “We were just catching our breath.” He winks at Doyoung. Doyoung’s dick twitches.
“We can take care of you, hyung.” Donghyuck seems to be fully recovered, propped back up on his elbows like he was earlier and staring directly at the tent in Doyoung’s sweatpants. “You don’t even have to be on camera.”
Doyoung considers the situation.
“Actually,” Doyoung says, picking his phone back up. “Could we get the tripod out?”