Chapter 26: The Joan Problem
The relief in Studio A was a tangible thing, a slackening in the air that seemed to soften the edges of the mirrors. For a few breaths, it seemed enough. They had a solution. The project was saved.
Then Jeonghan furrowed his eyebrows, a picture of sincere, petty concern. He cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the satisfied silence.“Okay, but hold on. What about our pairings with Joan?” He gestured loosely around the circle of boys. “I know everyone finds this sweet and all, and no offense Cheol—” he nodded toward the student president who was still wrapped around Joan, “—but I was looking forward to my pairing with her. Because let’s all admit, she’s a good fuck.”
He said it plainly, a clinical observation tossed into the center of the room.
A ripple of quiet agreement passed through them. Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck, a reluctant smile tugging at his mouth. DK looked at the floor, his ears turning pink. Joshua gave a small, thoughtful nod. Wonwoo, his old tensions with Joan long since resolved into a distant, mutual respect after his confession about Mingyu, simply tipped his chin in acknowledgment. Even the girls didn’t disagree; Ara pushed her glasses up, and Momo bit back what might have been a laugh.
Cheol didn’t take offense. He looked down at Joan, who had buried her face partially in his shoulder, the tips of her ears burning crimson. A slow, proud smirk spread across his face—the exact mirror of the one she’d worn earlier. His arm tightened around her. He didn’t say a word. He just let the statement hang, letting them all admire what was his.
Joan eventually lifted her head, the blush still high on her cheeks but her eyes sparkling with defiant amusement. “Well. We brainstormed our way out of one anatomical crisis. Guess we’d better solve this one too.”
The energy shifted from relief back into a focused, creative hum. Jihyo, having recovered somewhat, wrapped a towel around herself and rejoined the circle, her voice still a little thick but clear. “It’s not like Cheol is useless for us now,” she pointed out. “The problem was only… penetration. We can absolutely still take him in our mouths. Or our hands.”
“And he can still use his mouth and fingers on us,” Yerin added, her gentle voice finding a practical steadiness. “The intimacy isn’t gone. It’s just… redirected.”
Ara nodded. “The choreography for those interactions just needs tweaking, not scrapping. It could even be more interesting visually. Less predictable.”
On the boys’ side, the planning took a more logistical turn. Mingyu leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So Joan becomes the shared resource for vaginal sex. We need a rotation. A schedule.”
“Scheduled breaks, too,” Joshua chimed in smoothly, his mind already mapping a spreadsheet. “To preserve stamina. For all of us. We need to ensure everyone has a… viable load for the final act. It’s about peak performance timing.”
DK grinned, the sunshine breaking through again. “So we’re basically managing a adult film crew’s shooting schedule for a gangbang. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”
Jeonghan sighed dramatically. “The bureaucracy of sex is so unromantic.”
“Shut up, you love it,” Mingyu shot back. “You get to be on the spreadsheet.”
They bickered lightly, throwing out names and orders, trying to sequence themselves in a way that flowed with the planned emotional arcs of the performance. Joan listened, her mind working. The grand finale was still a nebulous cloud in their plans—the big, messy, climatic release meant to leave the audience breathless.
An idea, both absurd and perfectly logical, crystalized in her head. She spoke into a lull in the conversation. “For the grand finale,” she began, and all eyes snapped to her. “I’m the centerpiece, right? Cheol’s in me for most of it. So for the final thirty seconds, the true climax… what if Cheol pulls out of my pussy and enters my ass.” She felt the proprietary squeeze of Cheol’s hand on her hip at the mention of their private promise. “And someone else fills the… vacancy he left.”
The room considered it. It was starkly visual. A literal passing of the torch, or rather, the orifice.
It was Soomin who spoke next. She’d been quiet, observing with her new, calculating detachment. Now she leaned forward, her hair falling over one shoulder. “For the grand finale,” she said, her voice cool and clear, genuinely contributing. “Since she’s occupied front and back, every hole claimed… why don’t we all finish on her? Or towards her direction?” She gestured vaguely. “Not necessarily a bukkake, that’s crude. But as a final, collective release. The boys. The girls, if they can. A… culmination. All points converging on the nexus.”
A profound silence met her suggestion.
It wasn't crude. In the context of their artistic problem, it was breathtakingly elegant. The ultimate visualization of Joan’s centrality. The final, wet, gleaming proof of her role as the unifying force.
Jeonghan was the first to react. A slow, appreciated smile crept across his face. “Now that,” he purred, “is a finale.”
Cheol studied Soomin, his earlier hostility replaced by a grudging professional respect. “It’s bold.”
“It’ll stain the tatami mats permanently,” Wonwoo noted dryly, and a nervous chuckle fluttered through the group.
“It’s perfect,” Joshua concluded, his tone final. He looked at Joan. “Are you okay with that? Being the… target?”
Joan felt the weight of the proposition. It was vulnerable. It was extreme. It was, in a deeply strange way, an immense honor. She saw the acceptance in their faces, even the girls’. There was no malice in it now, only a commitment to the spectacle they were building together. She thought of being covered in them, marked by all of them, with Cheol anchored deeply inside her, claiming the most intimate part. A shiver that was only partly anxiety ran through her.
She met Soomin’s gaze and gave a small, firm nod. “Yeah,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m okay with it. Let’s give them a finale they’ll never forget.”
Soomin held her look for a second longer, then gave a single, sharp nod in return. “Good.”
The meeting of the minds was complete. The blueprint for the performance was no longer just about movements; it was about logistics, biology, and a shared, shocking vision. As they began to disperse, grabbing water bottles and towels, the atmosphere was no longer one of crisis, but of galvanized purpose.
Mingyu slung an arm around Joan’s shoulders, careful not to dislodge Cheol’s hold on her waist. “Shared resource, huh?” he teased, his voice low. “Better stock up on electrolytes, superstar.”
Joan elbowed him lightly, a laugh bubbling out of her. “You’re on the spreadsheet too, buddy. Don’t choke.”
Across the room, Wonwoo caught Mingyu’s eye and offered a faint, private smile. Mingyu’s arm tightened around Joan for just a moment before he went to join him, their easy camaraderie a quiet undercurrent to the larger drama.
Cheol pressed his lips to Joan’s temple, his voice a rough whisper meant only for her. “Mine,” he murmured, the word encompassing everything—the promise, the pride, the final, messy culmination they’d all just planned.
“Yours,” she whispered back, leaning into him. The studio, once a battleground, now felt like a war room. And they had just drafted their winning strategy.