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They've done this before.
A quiet night in Mirio and Nejire's apartment. Dinner, and a movie they never watch until the end, moving to the bedroom to make out on the king-sized bed. In his short months of dating the two of them, Tamaki has gotten used to this routine. It usually ends with him kissing them so much his jaw gets tired and his lips are red and puffy, and Mirio will tease him until Nejire points out that his look the same. Then they'll notice how late it is, and they'll lend Tamaki some pajamas and convince him to stay over, and maybe they'll snuggle and make out some more before finally going to sleep.
This time is different, though.
This time, there's something hotter cursing through Tamaki's veins. Hungrier. Clothes have stopped being part of the equation; they lie in a haphazard pile by the bed, and Tamaki isn't sure how many of them he's responsible for taking off, acting on instinct as he'd been with the distraction of Mirio's mouth on his and Nejire's soft skin beneath his hands. A blessed, brief period of time when his mind went hazy, his thoughts slow to catch up.
But they do catch up eventually, much to Tamaki's dismay. He's watching Mirio and Nejire when it happens, sitting by their side with flushed skin and ragged breathing. Mirio has just pulled Nejire onto his lap, and the movement looks so natural, like they've done it a thousand times before—the way Nejire slides forward without resistance until she's rubbing against Mirio, fingers threading through his hair to pull hard enough to bring out a raspy moan; the way Mirio's hands move down in return, digging into the skin of her ass so hard Nejire gasps and Tamaki is sure there'll be marks left behind.
They know each other's bodies, of course they do. It's not like Tamaki would expect any different when they'd been together for years before he became part of the romantic equation. Now, though, seeing them like this, a single thought creeps into his mind, sharp like a knife.
You're intruding.
It catches him by surprise, and Tamaki shifts slightly on his calves, suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin. It's been a while since he's had thoughts like this; not since the beginning, when he was still trying to process the sudden change in his status from friend to boyfriend in their relationship. That was before he got used to the kisses and lingering touches, before he realized that it wasn't a change he had to be scared of. They were just Mirio and Nejire, as they always had been; it was still easy to talk to them, to have fun with them. They had just chosen to share something else with him now, something more.
Back then, he'd thought the feeling of being in their way had gone away for good. Apparently, he was wrong.
"Tamaki? Hey, Tamaki?"
Mirio raises his voice slightly and Tamaki snaps out of his thoughts. At some point while he was zoning out, Nejire climbed down from Mirio's lap and is now sitting beside them, staring at Tamaki with a worried look that is mirrored on Mirio's face.
"Tamaki, what's wrong?" she asks.
Tamaki can feel his ears heating up.
See? Now you've killed the mood.
"Sorry," he says, unsure if he should reach for them or not to diffuse the awkward tension. He ends up doing nothing but twitching his fingers on his thighs. "You can, uh, keep going."
"Not until you tell us what's wrong," Mirio says, crossing his arms in what Tamaki knows is his I'm not budging pose. It's a sign that it'll be almost impossible to dodge his way out of this, but it doesn't stop Tamaki from trying.
"Nothing's wrong."
"Tamaki, you're forgetting we've been your best friends for years. We can tell when you're lying." Nejire takes his hand, rubbing soothing circles onto the skin with her thumb. "You know, if you want to wait to have sex, or if you don't want it at all, you can tell us."
Mirio's eyes widen as if he's just understood something and he nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, we can talk about it! We should have, actually—already talked about it, I mean, I guess things just got a little heated in the moment but—"
Tamaki pulls his hand back and shakes his head before Mirio can continue. They'd gotten it all wrong. "I do want to have sex."
They wait, looking at him expectantly, and another thought crosses his mind.
You need them, but they don't need you that way.
He tries to push it away the same way he pushes the words through his lips. "You've done this so many times before. No, I'm not a virgin, Mirio," he adds when Mirio opens his mouth. Mirio grimaces and mimics zipping his lips shut. "It's not that. But you two are perfect together, always have been. And seeing you just now, I thought you might realize you don't really… need me here. That you're enough for each other."
There's a moment of silence as they do nothing but stare at him, and Tamaki resists the urge to hide from the piercing weight of their gaze. He feels exposed, like he's naked more than just physically, with his heart left bare before them and all the dark and ugly insecurities on display.
Then Mirio huffs. "What do you mean we don't need you?" He doesn't sound angry but incredulous, as if the very idea of what Tamaki is saying is absurd. He leans forward to cup Tamaki's cheeks, and when he kisses Tamaki this time, instead of a burning fire it's like molten heat, slower but no less all-consuming. "Of course we need you."
"We need you more than you know." Nejire presses a kiss to his shoulder, and suddenly Mirio's lips are gone, and he's turning Tamaki around so they're kneeling with his back against Mirio's chest. Tamaki barely has time to try to stop the sound that makes it past his throat before Nejire is swallowing down the noise and speaking against his lips. "Hey, Tamaki, let us show you."
Trapped between Mirio and Nejire, there's no room for Tamaki to process anything other than the touches overloading his senses, and the treacherous whispers that try to make their way into his mind are blown away before they can truly take shape. Strong hands dig into his hips, pulling him back so he can't miss Mirio's hardening cock pressing against his ass.
"You're beautiful, Tamaki," Mirio says, mouthing hot and wet at the point where neck meets shoulder until Tamaki squirms. "So beautiful."
"We've always talked about it. Wanting to see you like this," Nejire adds, trailing kisses down Tamaki's jaw. She adds a little teeth, scraping gently and then more firmly when Tamaki whines, and even if he can't see her expression, he can feel her smile against his throat.
"D-Did you really?" he manages to ask.
"Hm-hmm," Nejire hums. Her hair tickles his chest as she moves lower. "Why don't you tell him, Mirio?"
Her tone is mischievous, and Tamaki has the nagging feeling that there's something he's missing here. Mirio chuckles, a huff of breath that Tamaki feels on the back of his neck, and he tries to twist around only to be stopped by Mirio's fingers tightening their hold on him.
Then Mirio starts talking, and oh— Oh. Tamaki understands Nejire's tone now.
Mirio has always been good at knowing what to say. Apparently, his skill extends to talking in bed as well—except where his words are usually polite, or friendly and sweet, the things Mirio whispers into Tamaki's ear are downright filthy . He spares no details about all the ways he's thought about fucking him, about everything he and Nejire have wished they could do to him, and him to them. His words paint vivid images in Tamaki's mind, ones that have him closing his eyes as need pools deep in his belly.
While Mirio talks, Nejire keeps moving lower, licking, biting, turning Tamaki into a writhing mess before she stops inches away from his aching cock.
"Look at her," Mirio tells him, and Tamaki does, eyes snapping open without a second thought.
Nejire's eyes are fixed on him, a glint in them like she'd been waiting for him to meet her gaze. There's a challenge there as she sticks her tongue out to lick him—just barely, not nearly enough—and Tamaki arches against Mirio's hold, using all of his willpower to keep his eyes from sliding shut.
Tamaki knows Nejire can be playful, has seen it so many times before when she's joking around with them and laughing at Mirio's antics. But he never thought he'd see her like this , flashing smiles between kitten licks as she grabs onto one of his thighs for purchase, clearly relishing in the way the muscle trembles under her fingers with each teasing movement. She holds his gaze through it all, making sure he's watching as she runs her tongue up the underside of his cock, humming in delight when she catches a drop of precum from the tip.
It's a sight Tamaki will never forget.
When Nejire closes her eyes, it's to finally take him fully in her mouth, and the way she moans around him has Tamaki thankful for Mirio's solid hold that keeps his knees from buckling beneath him.
"She's amazing, isn't she?" Mirio asks. One of his hands keeps holding Tamaki steady, but the other sneaks up his abs to his nipples.
Tamaki is able to stutter out a she is before Mirio scratches his nails over a hardened nub and his ability to form any coherent sentences goes out the window. The sounds that keep falling from his lips turn into moans and broken pleas; a pinch of Mirio's fingers, a twist of Nejire's tongue, and Tamaki can do nothing but chant fuck, more, yes, yes, please—
When Mirio's touch stops, leaving a sudden emptiness at Tamaki's back, he moans out a protest without words.
Mirio is pressed against him again in a blink, nudging Tamaki's legs slightly with his knees. "Shh, I'm back," he says, and then there's the sound of a bottle cap being opened. "Sorry, sweetheart, it'd be kinda hard to do the next part without this."
"Ah- fuck," Tamaki curses when Mirio's lube-covered finger circles his entrance. He doesn't push in at first, just pressing against Tamaki's hole, leaving him hot and slick and wanting. "Mirio, please," Tamaki pleads, too far gone to be embarrassed about how desperate he sounds.
"Eager, are we?" Mirio laughs, and Tamaki wants to tell him that there's nothing funny about them torturing him like this, but Nejire chooses that moment to focus on the sensitive head of his cock and all that comes out is another whine. "Alright, I got you. Let me know if I'm hurting you," Mirio says, and he waits until Tamaki has nodded in agreement before moving.
He's slow at first, a gentle touch that contrasts with the way his other hand goes back to playing with Tamaki's nipples until they're aching and red. It helps with the burn of the stretch, and before long Tamaki is squirming, torn between pushing back against Mirio's fingers or rocking forward into Nejire's mouth.
And all the while, Mirio doesn't stop talking, his voice strained like he's holding onto the edge of control, too. "You're so good for us, Tamaki. So pretty, taking my fingers so well," he pants, and twists his fingers to make Tamaki cry out. "That's it, baby, let us hear you."
Tamaki feels drunk—on Mirio and Nejire, on the overwhelming pleasure that sets alight every nerve on his body and makes him hyper aware of every place they touch. He couldn't overthink things even if he wanted to; his mind is lost to the feeling of being the center of their attention.
It doesn't take long for his orgasm to build, a rising tide spreading to the tips of his fingers—so, so close. He tenses, clutching at Nejire's silky hair. His release is just outside his reach when she pulls away, and as if on cue Mirio stills his movements and pulls out his fingers.
Tamaki shudders as the feeling subsides as fast as it came, leaving nothing but an aching emptiness behind.
"Why —" he begins to ask—whine—beg, he's not even sure what he means to say, still shaking from chasing the high when Nejire interrupts him with a forceful kiss.
"Tamaki," she gasps against his lips and reaches for his hand, guiding it between her legs. "Tamaki, touch me."
Tamaki sucks in a breath when he touches between her folds. She's dripping wet, slicking his hand and the inside of her thighs, making it easy to slide his fingers inside her until she's gripping his shoulders and canting her hips forward as if to pull him deeper. Any trace of the controlled actions from before are gone, replaced with a needy sort of abandon, and Tamaki finds a strange satisfaction in knowing that blowing him was enough to leave her like this.
"Tamaki," she says again, pressing their foreheads together as she rides his fingers, "I want you to fuck me. Can you? While Mirio fucks you, can we do that?"
Before the three of them started dating, Tamaki could only dream about hearing such a request. Now, he nods in earnest, lingering heat twisting in his gut when there's a sharp intake of breath from Mirio behind him. He'd been teasing Tamaki's hole with his fingers, never quite going back in, but now he pulls back completely to let Nejire and Tamaki move until Tamaki is lying between Nejire's spread legs.
In this brief moment of respite, Tamaki's head clears enough for him to hesitate. If they've thought so much about this, then what if he's not—
As if sensing his thoughts, Mirio's hands trail over Tamaki's sides, and he leans forward to press a kiss to Tamaki's nape, adding the slightest bit of teeth to make Tamaki shiver. Despite his cock pressing insistently against Tamaki's back, he doesn't do anything else, not yet—letting Tamaki take his time.
Tamaki shudders in a breath.
"Come here," Nejire whispers, pulling him in for a kiss and nudging him forward with her legs wrapped around his waist. "I want you."
"We want you," Mirio says, massaging reassuring circles into the skin of his waist.
After everything, how could Tamaki not believe them?
Nejire sighs and arches her back when he slides into her, and she's hot and wet and perfect around him. Then Mirio's hands tighten on his waist, lubed cock pressing into his hole, and it's all Tamaki can do not to come at the feeling of being so utterly filled.
He stills, breath coming out harshly through his mouth, and lets his head fall to Nejire's neck.
"Tamaki?" Mirio asks, a note of worry creeping into his voice.
Tamaki wills himself to nod despite the fog of pleasure clouding his mind. "'M 'kay," he mumbles, and pushes back slightly with his hips, hissing as the movement makes Nejire clench around him. "You can move, Mirio."
That's all the confirmation Mirio needs.
It might take some time—this is new for all of them, after all—but they find their rhythm, the push and pull that leaves the three of them gasping for air and their bodies slick with sweat. Tamaki's world narrows down to this—to the delicious drag of Nejire's walls against him; to Mirio's cock filling him so fully; to the swirling pleasure building and building in his gut, almost as overwhelming as being between both of them.
Somehow, he fits there, like it's where he was always meant to be.
When Mirio finds his prostate, Tamaki cries out at the white-hot pleasure that shoots through him. There's no slow, no gentle anymore; Mirio pounds into him with aimed precision, and every movement has Tamaki pushing deeper into Nejire, until her fingers are digging into his shoulders and she's chanting their names into Tamaki's ear.
He'd already been close, and it doesn't take much more to push him over the edge.
Tamaki comes with a cry that breaks off into a sob when Nejire clenches down on his cock, trembling beneath him with her own orgasm. He feels—everything, too much, and Mirio's fingers are certainly leaving marks on his hips and he's still fucking Tamaki with a fast, erratic pace, and Tamaki could ask him to stop but he doesn't want to, not when shocks of pain and pleasure go through his oversensitive body with every thrust.
Nejire raises a hand to his cheek. She wipes away the tears staining them, swallowing his cries with a kiss, and all Tamaki can do is cling to her until Mirio grunts and stills as he comes, cock twitching inside him.
All is quiet when it's over except for their accelerated breathing filling the air.
Mirio rolls to the side and Tamaki follows suit, disentangling himself from Nejire. They're all covered in sweat and sticky with cum, but when Tamaki lays down between them, it reminds him of all the other nights they ended up like this—clothed, usually, and definitely cleaner, but still happy and eager to stay close.
Sex was a new development in their relationship like the kisses had been once, but it was just something else Mirio and Nejire had chosen to share with him. Something they wanted him to be part of.
"Hey, Tamaki," Nejire says. When he turns to face her, she laces their fingers together. "We love you, you know that, right?"
The words he's heard so many times before shouldn't make his heart race, but it still somersaults rapidly inside his chest. "I know," he whispers, and the somersaults turn into a blooming warmth when Nejire smiles. Then there's an arm sneaking around his waist, and Tamaki can feel Mirio's smile when he presses a kiss to his shoulder, humming contently against his back.
Tamaki smiles, too, and snuggles closer to them.
Yeah, I know.