Chapter 3: Four's A Crowd
The steam in the shower room clung to everything, thick and heavy with the scent of body wash and sweat. It was supposed to be empty after a concert, just the residual heat of four exhausted bodies. Rosé stood frozen, her hand still on the locked door, the metallic click echoing in the humid space.
Through the shifting fog on the glass partition, the shapes were unmistakable. Lisa, taller, broader-shouldered, pinning a smaller, curvier figure against the tiles. Jennie. Her head was thrown back, mouth open in a silent cry Lisa was swallowing with a fierce kiss. The water poured over them, sluicing down the powerful muscles of Lisa’s back, over the incredible, impossible jut of her hips where a thick, rigid cock stretched taut between her and Jennie.
It was sliding in and out of Jennie’s pussy with a slow, deliberate rhythm. A raw, wet sound punctuated each thrust. Schlick. Schlick. Schlick.
Rosé couldn’t breathe. She should leave. Run. Pretend she’d seen nothing. But her feet were cemented to the wet floor. Her own body, exhausted from the stage, was now humming with a shocking, immediate current. She heard a soft, shaky inhale beside her. Jisoo. Her unnie had followed her in, stood now just behind her left shoulder, peering through another clear patch she’d wiped quickly on the glass.
Jisoo’s face was a mask of wide-eyed shock. But it wasn’t disgust. It was a stunned, captivated hunger. Her lips were parted, her breath coming in shallow puffs that fogged the glass anew.
Inside the stall, Lisa broke the kiss, panting against Jennie’s throat. “You gonna come for me again? Hmm? Gonna scream so loud the whole company hears?”
Jennie’s response was a choked sob, her nails scraping down Lisa’s wet back. “Y-yes… please, Lisa, faster…”
Lisa obeyed, her thrusts turning harder, faster, jackhammering into Jennie with a force that made her body slap against the tile. The wet sounds became sharper, more frantic. Jennie’s cries crescendoed, bouncing off the porcelain and tile. “Fuck! Right there! Don’t stop! Don’t you fucking stop!”
Rosé felt a tremble start deep in her core. She was soaking, and it wasn’t from the ambient steam. She could see the precise moment Jennie shattered. Her body arched, a bowstring pulled taut, and a ragged, broken scream tore from her that was half Lisa’s name. Lisa grunted, a low, guttural sound, and shoved deep, holding there, her own release obvious in the shudder that racked her frame.
The aftermath was a tableau of heaving chests and steaming water. Lisa, still inside Jennie, rested her forehead against her shoulder. Jennie’s eyes were closed, her face a mask of spent ecstasy.
Then Lisa’s head turned. Slowly. Her gaze, dark and satiated, found Rosé’s through the glass. She didn’t startle. She didn’t look ashamed. A slow, dangerous smile curved her wet lips. She looked past Rosé to Jisoo, acknowledging her presence with a slight, challenging lift of her chin.
Jennie’s eyes fluttered open, following Lisa’s gaze. She saw them. Horror, then a fierce, defiant glare flashed across her features. She didn’t try to cover herself. Instead, she leaned back against the tile, exposing herself fully to their stare, one hand coming up to cup Lisa’s jaw possessively.
“See something you like?” Jennie’s voice was hoarse, wrecked from screaming.
Rosé’s mouth was desert dry. She found her voice, a whisper. “We… we were looking for you. Management…”
“Fuck management,” Lisa said, her voice a low rumble. She pulled out of Jennie slowly, turning off the shower. The sudden silence was deafening. She grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her waist, leaving Jennie naked and glistening. She unlocked the stall door and pushed it open, stepping out into the main room. The steam billowed out around her like a cloak.
She stood before them, dripping, completely unashamed. The towel did little to hide the solid outline of her softening cock, or the raw, powerful energy she radiated. “You locked the door,” Lisa stated, looking at Rosé’s hand still on the latch. “You could have left. You didn’t.”
“I…” Rosé’s mind blanked. There was no excuse.
Jisoo stepped forward, her usual calm composure fractured. “What… what is this, Lisa? What are you?”
“I’m me.” Lisa’s smile was sharp. “And Jennie’s mine. That’s all that matters right now.”
Jennie emerged from the stall, wrapping a towel around herself. Her stance was defensive, protective of Lisa. “It’s not a joke. It’s not a phase. This is real.”
The air was thick with more than steam. It was charged with a secret now quadrupled in weight, and a pulsing, unspoken curiosity. Rosé’s eyes darted from Lisa’s defiant face to Jennie’s possessive one, then to Jisoo’s conflicted gaze. She saw the same stunned arousal she felt reflected in her unnie’s eyes.
“We need to talk,” Jisoo said finally, her voice firming. “Not here. The dorm. Now.”
The drive back to the dorm was silent, a vacuum of unasked questions. The usual post-concert chatter was dead. Rosé drove, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. Jisoo sat shotgun, staring out the window at the passing neon. Lisa and Jennie were in the back, a united front, their fingers interlaced on the seat between them.
Once inside the sanctuary of their shared living space, the tension snapped.
“Start talking,” Jisoo said, crossing her arms, leaning against the kitchen island. The leader, demanding an explanation.
Jennie tossed her bag on the sofa. “What’s to explain? You saw it. I’m with Lisa.”
“With her?” Jisoo’s voice rose. “Jennie, she has a… a…”
“A cock?” Lisa finished, leaning casually against the doorway. “Yeah. I do. And Jennie loves it. She loves taking it, screaming for it, coming on it. Got a problem with that?” The crude words were a weapon, meant to shock, to force acceptance through brutal honesty.
Rosé flinched, but a fresh, hot pulse between her legs betrayed her. She busied herself getting water, just to have something to do with her hands.
Jisoo blinked, thrown off balance. “You broke up with Taehyung for… for this?”
“I broke up with Taehyung because what I have with Lisa makes what I had with him feel like a fucking handshake,” Jennie shot back, her eyes blazing. “This is real. It’s messy and it’s insane and it could end us, but it’s the most real thing I’ve ever had.”
The raw conviction in her voice silenced Jisoo for a moment. She looked from Jennie to Lisa, then her eyes drifted to Rosé, who was watching, listening, her bottle of water forgotten.
“And you?” Jisoo asked Rosé softly. “You saw it too. What do you think?”
Rosé met Lisa’s gaze. That challenging, knowing look. She thought of the locked door. Of her own trembling hand. Of the image seared into her mind: Lisa fucking Jennie with a raw, masculine power that was somehow utterly Lisa.
“I think…” Rosé began, her voice quiet. “I think I wanted to see more.”
A beat of profound silence.
Then Lisa pushed off the doorway. She walked toward Rosé, each step measured. She stopped inches away, looking down at her. The proximity was overwhelming. Rosé could smell her shower-clean skin, see the faint traces of lipstick Jennie had left on her neck.
“You want to see more, Chaeyoung?” Lisa murmured, using her real name, stripping her of her stage persona. Her finger hooked under Rosé’s chin, tilting her face up. “Or do you want to feel more?”
Rosé’s breath hitched. She’d never been looked at like this—like she was prey, and salvation, all at once. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
Behind her, Jennie made a sound. Not of protest, but of understanding. “Lisa,” she said, and her tone was permission.
Jisoo watched, her arms uncrossing, falling to her sides. “This is crazy,” she whispered, but she didn’t move to stop it.
“It is,” Lisa agreed, her eyes still locked on Rosé’s. “But you’re still here, unnie. You’re watching.”
Lisa’s mouth crashed down on Rosé’s. It wasn’t gentle. It was a conquest, all tongue and teeth and desperate hunger. Rosé moaned, her body melting against Lisa’s, the water bottle dropping to the floor with a thud. Lisa’s hands cupped her ass, grinding their hips together. Rosé could feel her, hard again already, thick and insistent through the fabric of their clothes.
Jennie moved then. She came up behind Jisoo, wrapping her arms around her waist from behind, resting her chin on Jisoo’s shoulder. “You see how beautiful she is?” Jennie whispered into Jisoo’s ear, her eyes on Lisa devouring Rosé. “You’ve always seen it. Don’t lie.”
Jisoo trembled. She had. For years, a quiet, unexplored ache. She watched Lisa’s hand slide under Rosé’s shirt, pushing it up, exposing her lace-clad breasts. She watched Rosé gasp into Lisa’s mouth as her bra was undone, as Lisa’s calloused fingers pinched and rolled her nipples.
Lisa broke the kiss, turning Rosé around to face Jisoo and Jennie. Rosé’s shirt and bra hung open, her breasts bare, her eyes dazed with lust. “She’s beautiful,” Lisa growled, her hands on Rosé’s hips. “But she’s nervous. She needs her unnie.”
It was an invitation, a command. Jisoo looked into Rosé’s pleading eyes. All her reason, her caution, burned away by the inferno in the room. She stepped forward, closing the distance, and kissed Rosé softly, a stark contrast to Lisa’s assault. Rosé whimpered, her hands coming up to tangle in Jisoo’s hair.
Lisa guided them backward, toward the large, plush living room rug. She peeled Rosé’s clothes off, then her own, standing naked and fully erect before them. Jennie was already undressing Jisoo, her movements reverent, her lips tracing the skin she exposed.
They sank onto the rug in a tangle of limbs. Lisa lay back, pulling Rosé on top of her. “Ride me,” she said, her voice raw. “Take what you were watching.”
Rosé straddled her, her hand reaching down to guide Lisa’s thick cock to her entrance. She was wet, so wet, her arousal a slick, embarrassing heat. She sank down slowly, a low, guttural cry tearing from her throat as she was stretched, filled in a way she’d never imagined. “Oh my god… Lisa…”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Lisa grunted,