Chapter 1: The Reunion
After 2 years of being apart, the group’s reunion is just electric. They haven’t seen each other in while since everyone’s gone busy with their respective careers. But no one was missing out tonight— it’s Joan’s 30th birthday— they all just had to be there. Joan was the only girl in the group. For some reason, she always found herself friends with boys. Girls just don’t seem to bond with her as well. The boys —Cheol, Jeonghan, Joshua, Jun, Wonwoo, DK, Mingyu— have already arrived. It was a simple gathering in Joan’s penthouse apartment.
Everyone is already drinking when DK casually asks, “Hey, where’s your boyfriend? Isn’t he coming?”
Joan shrugs, “We broke up.” Everyone turns to her— they all hated him for her. “It happened a while back— 6 months ago. I’m fine. You can drop the act. I know you guys hated him.” Joan chuckles.
Everyone gathers around in the living room. “Not that I want you guys together but, what happened? Who broke up with who?” Joshua asks.
“I did.” Joan answers. “Mark was just so dull...” She laughs shaking her head. “I just eventually got bored, you know? I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner but we had nothing in common. So it’s hard to get past liking each other to fall in love.” She sighs.
She sighed.
A beat of silence hung in the citrus-scented air, and then the dam broke.
“His laugh,” Jun said, without missing a beat, sipping his champagne. “It was this weird, honking sound. Like a startled goose.”
“The way he explained his boring finance job,” Mingyu added, shaking his head. “For forty minutes. I timed it. I aged.”
Jeonghan stretched languidly on the velvet couch, a sly smile playing on his lips. “He called burgundy ‘fancy red’. Unforgivable.”
The comments came faster, overlapping, each one sharper and more specific than the last. Joshua offered a quiet, “He always corrected your pronunciation of wine regions,” while Wonwoo simply murmured, “The statistical probability of him being your soulmate was always zero.”
Cheol hadn’t said anything, just watched Joan from his seat by the window, his intense gaze tracking her reaction. His broad shoulders were tense.
Joan’s laughter started as a low chuckle and built into a full, unabandoned sound that echoed off the marble. She clutched a throw pillow, tears of mirth in her sharp brown eyes. “Oh my god, you guys are brutal! I didn’t know you were taking notes.”
“We have a whole dossier,” Jeonghan purred. “For your protection.”
“Okay, okay,” Joan gasped, wiping a tear. “I have one!” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial stage whisper. The hum of the sound system seemed to fade. “Mark was so bad in bed, I mentally watched porn in my head to get off while at it.”
The explosion of sound was immediate. Mingyu spat his drink back into his glass, coughing. Jun howled, sliding off the arm of the couch. Joshua’s polite composure shattered into a stunned, then delighted laugh, his face flushing. Wonwoo let out a sharp, incredulous “Ha!” and pushed his glasses up his nose.
Jeonghan clapped his hands with glee. “Clinical! I love it.”
Only Cheol didn’t laugh. A muscle jumped in his jaw. His eyes, locked on Joan, held a storm—something between dark amusement and a fierce, protective heat that seemed to suck the oxygen from the space between them. Joan caught his look and her own smile faltered for a fraction of a second, the connection a live wire.
She broke it, sitting up and brushing imaginary dust from her shorts. “Okay, enough about the past. The present is my birthday, and the future…”
When the laughter dies down, Jeonghan asks, “But wait… seriously?” Joan laughs, “Yeah! At some point I was so desperate, I bought custom sexy dices!”
Cheol snorts, “Sexy dice? What is that?”
Joan stood up, a playful smirk on her lips. “I’ll show you.” She padded across the cool marble floor to a sleek dresser near the windows. The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white behind her. She rummaged in a drawer for a moment before returning, a pair of oversized black dice in her hand. She dropped them into Cheol’s waiting palm.
“Sexy dice,” she said, reclaiming her spot. “One die has a body part. The other has an… action.”
Cheol turned the cubes over in his broad hands, his fingers tracing the embossed words. His expression was unreadable, that usual stoic mask. Without a word, he leaned forward and rolled them across the low glass table.
They clattered, a sharp sound that cut through the music.Everyone watched.
They came to a stop. Cheol’s eyes scanned the faces. “‘Lick,’” he read, his deep voice flat. Then his gaze dropped to the second die. A beat. “‘Inner thigh.’” He looked up, his intense eyes finding Joan’s. The silence in the room was sudden and absolute, a vacuum. “What do you think, birthday girl? Wanna play?”
Joan’s laugh was too high, a nervous crack. “You’re crazy!” She snatched the dice from the table, her fingers brushing his. The contact sent a jolt up her arm.
Everyone was still silent. The air shifted, growing thicker, charged.Then Jeonghan broke it. “Are we really?” he drawled, twirling a strand of his honey-brown hair. “I mean, if everyone wants to play, and you allow it… then what’s the harm with a little fun?” He smiled, feline and knowing. “Might even benefit you. To feel good on your birthday.”
Joan looked around. Mingyu’s eyebrows were raised, but he was nodding slowly. Joshua’s polite reserve was gone, replaced by a dark, focused curiosity. Wonwoo watched, analytical, but his lips were parted. Jun just grinned, all feline mischief. And Cheol… Cheol stared, waiting.
“Wait, you guys are serious?” Joan’s voice shrank. “But we’re all friends. Wouldn’t it be awkward? Or won’t it ruin our friendship? I mean, I know I’m horn—”
“There’s our favorite overthinking princess,” Jun chuckled from the floor, cutting off her ramble.
Jeonghan made his way to her. He moved like water, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice a silken command. “We’re all good.” He guided her to sit in the middle of the open floor, the group forming a loose, intent circle around her. He took the dice from her limp hand. “We’re all consenting adults. And it’s your birthday.”
Joan looked at each face again. The humor was gone, replaced by something raw and hungry. It should have scared her. It ignited her. She sighed, a release of all that coiled-up, boring energy. “Fine.”
“That’s our girl.” Jeonghan stepped back, a conductor. “Now, Cheol. Like the dice said. Lick inner thigh.”
Cheol didn’t hesitate. He moved with that same deliberate, commanding presence he always had, but now it was focused entirely on her. He knelt on the marble before her, the hard lines of his body between her splayed knees. The others watched, breaths held.
His hands, large and warm, settled on her calves. He pushed her legs apart just a little wider, his thumbs stroking her skin. His gaze burned into hers, not asking permission anymore—claiming it. He leaned down, and Joan’s head fell back, a soft gasp escaping her lips.
He didn’t go straight for the target. He started at her knee, his mouth hot and wet through the fabric of her shorts. A slow, open-mouthed kiss. Then another, an inch higher on her thigh. His tongue swept a searing path along the sensitive skin. She could feel the shocking softness of his lips.
He moved higher, under the hem of her shorts now. His breath scalded her inner thigh, the most intimate proximity. Joan’s fingers clutched at nothing, then tangled in his short, dark hair. She didn’t pull, just held on.
He licked.
A firm, wet, deliberate stripe from mid-thigh up, a hair’s breadth from the dampening seam of her shorts. The sound was obscene in the quiet room. A groan ripped from Joan’s throat, low and helpless. Her hips twitched off the floor.
Cheol did it again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her skin, the salt and the scent of her arousal which was now unmistakable. His tongue curled, probed a little, before retreating. He pressed a final, sucking kiss to the throbbing spot, then pulled back, his own breathing ragged.
He looked up at her, his lips glistening. His eyes were black with lust. “Happy birthday, Joan,” he said, his voice rough.
The spell broke into a dozen different reactions. Jun whistled low. Mingyu let out a strained “Fuck.” Joshua adjusted himself subtly, his cheeks flushed. Wonwoo finally spoke, his analytical tone utterly shattered. “Well. That happened.”
Jeonghan beamed, the architect of chaos pleased. “Excellent form, Cheol. A nine for technique.” He picked up the dice again. “Now… whose turn is it?”
Joan slowly sat up, her body humming, every nerve ending alive. The fear was gone, burnt away by that single, devastating act. A daring, wild smile spread across her face. She looked at the dice in Jeonghan’ s hand, then at the circle of her friends—their faces now mirrors of open desire and anticipation.
“Roll them again,” she said, her voice husky and sure.
The energy in the room snapped from stunned to predatory. All hesitation was gone, burned away by the sight of Cheol on his knees and the raw sound Joan had made.
Jeonghan’s fingers had just curled around the black cubes when Mingyu leaned over and snatched them right from his grasp. “My turn,” he said, his voice thick. He didn’t wait for permission. He shook the dice once in his large fist and let them fly.
They bounced, a staccato rhythm on glass. The group leaned in as one.
“‘Fuck,’” Mingyu read, a slow grin spreading. His eyes flicked to the second die. “‘With Hand.’” He blew out a breath, looking at Joan. “Straight to the point.”
DK, who had been watching with dark, focused eyes, was palming himself lazily through his trousers. He spoke up, his voice a low, suggestive rumble just loud enough to cut through the pounding beat in everyone’s chest. “Wait… suck his fingers first. Get them nice and wet for her.”
A beat. Then, a ripple of nods. Jeonghan’s smile was a slash of approval. Joshua murmured, “Makes sense.” Wonwoo gave a single, sharp nod. Jun just licked his lips. Cheol, still kneeling near Joan’s feet, said nothing. His hand went to his own zipper. The metallic hiss was deafening. He freed himself, his cock already thick and heavy in his palm, and began stroking with a slow, relentless rhythm, his eyes never leaving Joan’s face.
The command was clear. The expectation, absolute.
Joan held Mingyu’s gaze. Her heart was a frantic bird against her ribs, but a deep, molten calm was spreading through her veins. This was it. The line was gone. She sat up on her elbows, her body arched.
“Okay,” she breathed.
Mingyu shifted closer, his knees brushing hers. He brought his right hand to her mouth, two fingers extended. They hovered at her lips. Joan opened for them, her tongue touching the pads of his fingers first, a tentative taste of salt and skin.
Then she took them in, sinking her mouth down to the knuckle.
A collective inhale swept the circle.
She swirled her tongue, a deliberate, wet caress around each digit. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard, her eyes locked on Mingyu’s as they widened. She could hear Cheol’s roughening breath, the slick sound of his fist on his cock. She worked Mingyu’s fingers, coating them thoroughly, a lewd, filthy preparation. When she finally released them with a soft pop, they glistened with her saliva.
“Good girl,” Mingyu rasped. His wet fingers didn’t hesitate. They trailed down her chin, her throat, over the pulse hammering there, and slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts and underwear in one practiced move.
He found her immediately—hot, swollen, and utterly soaked. A low groan punched out of him. “Fuck, Joan.”
His fingers pressed against her clit, a rough, perfect circle that made her back bow off the floor. Then one finger, then two, pushed inside her, deeper, crooking against a spot that made stars burst behind her eyelids.
“Yes—” she gasped, the word fracturing.
This wasn’t gentle. It was claiming. Mingyu fucked her with his hand, his wrist driving a relentless, piston rhythm. The wet, slapping sounds filled the space, mingling with her ragged cries and the choked noises from the men watching. He leaned over her, his other hand pinning her hip to the marble, holding her still for his thrusting fingers. She was completely exposed, split open on his hand, every intimate detail visible to the ring of hungry eyes.
Cheol watched, his own strokes matching Mingyu’s pace, his grip tight and angry on his shaft. A pearly drop beaded at his tip, smearing with each pass.
Jun was biting his own knuckle. Joshua’s polite facade was utterly destroyed, his lips parted, his chest heaving. Wonwoo had removed his glasses, his dark eyes burning. DK had his own cock fully out now, stroking in time.
Jeonghan looked blissful, a curator admiring perfect chaos.
The pleasure coiled, tight and terrifying, in Joan’s belly. It was too much—the invasion, the audience, the sheer debauchery of it. Her legs trembled. Mingyu felt it, felt her walls beginning to flutter and clamp around his fingers.
“Come for us, princess,” he grunted, adding a vicious twist of his thumb.
It shattered her. The orgasm ripped through her like a seizure, violent and unreserved. A broken scream tore from her throat, her body convulsing around his punishing hand. He worked her through it, milking every last spasm until she was a shuddering, oversensitive mess on the floor, gasping for air.
Slowly, Mingyu withdrew his fingers. They shone in the fairy light. He brought them to his own mouth, tasting her without breaking eye contact, and let out a hum of deep satisfaction.
The silence that followed was thick, spent, and buzzing with new, unsated potential.
Joan lay there, boneless, her shorts shoved down around her thighs, her skin sheened with sweat. She felt ruined. She felt fucking magnificent.
From his place by the window, Cheol finally spoke, his voice gravel and smoke. “Whose.”
He didn’t finish the question. He didn’t need to.
Jeonghan, reaching for the dice that had fallen to the floor, finished it for him, his purr slicing through the heavy air.
“Whose turn is next?”