Room 417

University group dorm - khaos, moxie, sumei

This is my apology for the furnace room sorry chat 💔

Room 417

The dorm room smelled like vanilla body spray, weed residue, and sex that never quite got cleaned up. It was small—two narrow beds shoved against opposite walls, a third mattress on the floor that no one ever bothered making—and yet somehow all three of them fit inside it most nights.

Khaos was sprawled across his bed like he owned the gravity in the room, long legs hanging off the edge, one black sock still on. He was shirtless, scrolling X with a bored smirk, occasionally flicking ash from his joint onto the carpet because “the RA never checks anyway.” At 23 he was already jaded in that effortless, handsome way that made people forgive him for being an asshole.

Moxie sat cross-legged on the floor mattress, tiny makeup mirror balanced on one knee, painting his left ring finger electric violet while humming some hyper-pop remix. His nails were always long, always sharp, always clicking against everything—phone screens, Khaos’s zipper, Sumei’s jaw when he wanted the smaller boy to look up at him. He wore a cropped baby-pink hoodie that said “Princess” in rhinestones and nothing else below the waist except a black thong that disappeared between his cheeks.

And then there was Sumei.

Tiny, barely five-foot-three, drowning in an oversized hoodie that used to belong to Khaos. He was curled against Moxie’s thigh right now, cheek pressed to bare skin, eyes half-closed while Moxie absentmindedly stroked his hair like he was petting a kitten. Sumei’s smile was permanent—soft, eager, heartbreakingly sincere. He still called them his best friends. He still believed it.

“Khay,” Sumei mumbled, nuzzling closer, “you’re so warm.”

Khaos didn’t even look up from his phone. “That’s because you’re a fucking space heater, baby mouse. Move.”

But he didn’t push him away.

Moxie giggled, high and musical. “Aww, my little sugar plum doesn’t wanna move, does he?” He tapped one long nail under Sumei’s chin, tilting his face up. “Look at those pretty eyes. You’re so good for Mommy tonight, aren’t you, baby boy?”

Sumei flushed bright pink, nodding fast. “Y-yes, Mox… I—I tried to be quiet in class today like you said.”

“Good boy,” Moxie purred, leaning down to kiss the tip of Sumei’s nose. “Such a good little doll.”

Khaos snorted. “You’re gonna make him cry again if you keep babying him like that.”

“I like when he cries,” Moxie said sweetly, dragging a nail lightly down Sumei’s throat. “Makes his lashes all spiky. Very chic.”

Sumei giggled—nervous, pleased, completely missing the mockery. “You guys are so funny…”

Khaos finally tossed his phone aside and sat up, elbows on his knees, staring down at the two of them like a lion deciding which gazelle looked tastiest.

“Strip him.”

Moxie’s eyes lit up. “Yes sir.”

Sumei blinked, confused but already reaching for the hem of his hoodie because that was what good boys did when Khaos used that tone.

“Wait—” Sumei started, voice small, “I didn’t… I mean, I thought we were just gonna watch a movie tonight?”

Khaos’s grin was all teeth. “We are. You’re the popcorn.”

Moxie laughed delightedly and yanked the hoodie over Sumei’s head in one smooth motion, leaving the smaller boy in nothing but pale blue briefs that were already tenting. Sumei’s arms automatically came up to cover his chest—habit, embarrassment—even though they’d both seen him naked a hundred times.

“Hands down, princess,” Moxie cooed, prying Sumei’s wrists away and pinning them gently behind his back with one hand. The other slid into the front of those briefs, cupping him possessively. “There we go. Look how hard our little toy already is. You love when we play with you, don’t you, baby?”

Sumei whimpered, nodding, eyes glassy. “Y-yeah… love it… love you guys…”

Khaos stood up, towering over both of them. He reached down, grabbed Sumei by the hair—not hard enough to hurt (yet), just enough to remind him who was steering—and pulled his head back so he had to look up.

“You gonna be a good hole tonight?” Khaos asked, voice lazy, almost sweet. “Or do I have to remind you how loud you scream when I don’t go slow?”

Sumei’s lip trembled. He tried to smile through it. “I’ll—I’ll be good, Khay. Promise.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Khaos shoved his sweatpants down just enough to free himself—thick, already half-hard, heavy in his hand. He tapped the head against Sumei’s cheek once, twice, leaving a faint wet smear.

“Open.”

Sumei did, instantly, tongue out like he’d been trained. And he had.

Moxie watched with hungry eyes, still slowly stroking Sumei under the briefs. “Look at him, Khay. So eager. Our perfect little cocksleeve.”

Khaos didn’t answer—just pushed in, slow at first, letting Sumei adjust, then deeper until the boy’s throat fluttered and his eyes watered. Sumei gagged softly but didn’t pull away. He never did.

Moxie leaned in, kissing along Sumei’s jaw while he was stuffed full. “That’s it, sugar. Take him so pretty for me. You’re doing so good.”

Khaos pulled out just long enough for Sumei to gasp in a breath, then slid back in, deeper this time. “Fuck, he’s still so tight back here,” he muttered, almost impressed. “Thought we’d have ruined him by now.”

“Some toys are just built different,” Moxie singsonged. He tugged Sumei’s briefs down and off, leaving him completely bare. Then he pushed two long-nailed fingers into the boy’s mouth alongside Khaos’s cock—stretching his lips wider, making him drool.

Sumei moaned around both of them, hips jerking helplessly. Tears slipped down his cheeks, but the smile never quite left his face.

Khaos fucked his throat for another minute before pulling out completely, leaving Sumei coughing and gasping, chin shiny.

“Bed,” Khaos said, short and sharp.

Moxie scooped Sumei up like he weighed nothing—which he practically didn’t—and carried him the three steps to Khaos’s bed, laying him out on his back. Sumei’s legs fell open automatically, trembling.

Moxie climbed on top first, straddling Sumei’s hips, grinding down so their cocks slid together. “Gonna open you up nice and slow, okay, baby boy? Mommy’s got you.”

He reached for the lube on the nightstand—strawberry-flavored, because Moxie liked when Sumei tasted sweet—and slicked his fingers. One, then two, then three, curling until Sumei arched and cried out, nails digging into Moxie’s thighs.

“Shhh, princess,” Moxie whispered, kissing his tears. “You’re taking it so well. Such a good little slut for us.”

Khaos watched for a moment, stroking himself lazily, then moved behind Moxie. He didn’t ask—just lined up and pushed into Moxie in one long, rough thrust.

Moxie gasped, head falling forward, long nails scratching down Sumei’s chest. “Fuck—yes—use me too, daddy—”

Khaos fucked Moxie hard, each thrust shoving Moxie deeper into Sumei, turning the three of them into one obscene chain. Sumei was crying openly now, overwhelmed, babbling “Khay—Mox—please—love you—love you—”

He came untouched, spilling between their bodies, whole body shaking.

Moxie laughed breathlessly. “Aw, baby came already. So sensitive.”

Khaos didn’t slow down. “He’s not done.”

He pulled out of Moxie, grabbed Sumei’s ankles, folded him in half until his knees hit his shoulders, and sank in with one brutal thrust.

Sumei screamed—high, broken, beautiful.

Khaos fucked him like he was mad at him. Like he hated him. Like he loved that he could do this whenever he wanted.

Moxie knelt beside them, stroking Sumei’s hair, kissing his temple, whispering filth. “You’re perfect, baby. Taking him so deep. Gonna let him breed you again? Gonna let Mommy watch while he fills you up?”

Sumei could only sob and nod.

When Khaos finally came, it was with a low curse, grinding in as deep as he could, holding Sumei’s hips so tight there’d be bruises tomorrow.

Moxie came a second later, painting Sumei’s stomach while he jerked himself off.

They collapsed in a sweaty pile—Khaos on his back, Moxie curled against his side, Sumei tucked between them like a stuffed animal, still trembling, still leaking, still smiling through the tears.

“Love you guys,” Sumei whispered, voice wrecked. “You’re… you’re my best friends.”

Moxie kissed his forehead. “We know, sugar plum. We know.”

Khaos just snorted softly, already reaching for his phone again.

“Someone get him a towel before he cries on my sheets.”

!Morning After, Room 417 – February 17, 2026!

Sunlight sliced through the half-closed blinds in thin, dusty stripes. The room still reeked of last night—strawberry lube, sweat, and the faint chemical sweetness of Moxie’s overnight face mask that had dried crusty on his pillow. Khaos woke first, like always, already hard against the small of Sumei’s back where the tiny boy was spooned between them. Moxie was draped half over Sumei’s front, one long violet nail tracing lazy circles around a still-darkening nipple.

Sumei stirred when Khaos shifted, letting out a small, sleepy whimper. His lashes were clumped from dried tears, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and shiny. He blinked up at the ceiling for a second before the ache between his legs registered. His whole body tensed.

Khaos didn’t wait for permission. He rolled Sumei onto his stomach in one smooth motion, knee nudging the smaller boy’s thighs apart. “Morning wood special,” he muttered, voice gravelly with sleep. “Open up, mouse.”

Sumei’s breath hitched. He curled inward instinctively, hands flying back to cover himself. “W-wait—Khay, no, please—”

Khaos froze mid-reach for the lube bottle. His eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

Moxie propped himself on one elbow, glitter-dusted cheek smushed against his palm, watching with sleepy interest. “What’s wrong, sugar plum? Still sleepy?”

Sumei shook his head fast, voice tiny and cracking. “It… it still hurts. Like, really hurts. I—I can’t. Not yet. Please?”

The room went quiet except for the low hum of the mini-fridge.

Khaos stared down at him for a long beat. Then he laughed—short, sharp, annoyed. “You’re kidding. After all that whining and ‘love you guys’ last night, now you’re tapping out?”

“I’m not—I just—” Sumei’s eyes were already glassy again, lip trembling. “It stings when I move. I tried to be good, I swear, but—”

“Jesus Christ.” Khaos sat back on his heels, running a hand through his messy black hair. “Fine. Whatever. Mouth it is, then.” He grabbed a fistful of Sumei’s hair and tugged him up onto his knees. “C’mon. You can still be useful.”

Sumei nodded quickly, eager to please despite the wince when he shifted. “Okay—okay, Khay. I can do that. I promise.”

Moxie clicked his tongue softly, sliding off the bed with catlike grace. “Hold on, daddy. Let Mommy check first.” He moved behind Sumei, gentle but firm, pushing the smaller boy forward onto his hands and knees so his ass was presented. Moxie knelt, long nails parting soft cheeks with practiced care.

Sumei whimpered at the exposure, face burning, but he stayed still like a good boy.

Moxie’s breath caught. “Oh… baby.”

Khaos glanced over, impatient. “What?”

Moxie tilted his head, studying. One finger ghosted along the rim—careful, almost tender—before he pulled back with a small frown. “There’s a little tear. Not bad, but… yeah. Red and puffy. No wonder our princess is crying about it.”

Sumei’s shoulders hunched. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shut up,” Khaos snapped, but the edge had dulled slightly. He exhaled through his nose, glaring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. “Fucking delicate little thing.”

Moxie made a soft sympathetic noise and leaned in, pressing the lightest kiss to the small of Sumei’s back. “Poor baby. We went a little too hard on you last night, didn’t we?” He stroked down Sumei’s spine in long, soothing lines. “Mommy’s sorry, sugar. We’ll be nicer today. Promise.”

Sumei sniffled, still on all fours, looking back over his shoulder with those big, watery eyes. “You’re not mad?”

Khaos rolled his eyes so hard it was audible. “I’m always mad. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna rip you in half.” He flopped back against the headboard, legs spread, cock still jutting up against his stomach. “Get over here and suck it like a good toy. Slow. No teeth. And if you gag too loud I’m taping your mouth shut.”

Sumei scrambled forward immediately, relief flooding his face. “Thank you, Khay,” he mumbled, already settling between long thighs. He wrapped small hands around the base—barely able to close his fingers—and leaned in, tongue flicking shyly at the tip first.

Moxie watched with a fond little smile, then crawled up beside them. He cupped Sumei’s cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “There’s our sweet boy. So good for us even when it hurts.” He leaned down and kissed Sumei’s temple, then murmured against his ear, “Make him feel nice and slow, okay? Mommy’s gonna play with your pretty little nipples while you work. Gentle. No more ouchies today.”

Sumei hummed around the head of Khaos’s cock—muffled agreement—and started to bob, careful and earnest, cheeks hollowing.

Khaos let his head tip back against the wall, one hand resting lazily on the back of Sumei’s head. Not forcing. Not yet. “That’s it,” he muttered. “Finally doing something right.”

Moxie’s long nails skimmed over Sumei’s chest, circling pink nipples until they pebbled, then pinching just enough to make the smaller boy moan around the thick length in his mouth.

The morning stretched lazy and quiet after that—only the wet sounds of Sumei’s mouth, Moxie’s soft cooing, and the occasional low groan from Khaos.

No one said anything about the tiny tear.

No one needed to.

Sumei was still smiling around his best friends’ cock when he finally swallowed, eyes shining with desperate, misplaced adoration.