O'Knutzy Week Day 7: A happier (and smuttier) future. Characters belong to @lumosinlove, and thank you x3 to @oknutzy-week-2026 for organizing all of this year's wonderful works. It's such a treat every time!
TW for smut
Shower (C3)
Leo comes with a sharp cry and a moan that lingers somewhere low in his chest. It breaks over him like waves on the beach, the undertow that pulls him deeper and the gasping when he spills out the other side. Finn follows with his nose buried in the crease of Leo’s hip, wet mouth open and panting against his skin. Aftershocks spark hot and fast; he sucks a mark there, and a second. Licks at Leo’s inner thighs and the shivering mess of his lower belly, still jumping with each lave of his tongue. The hair on his thighs is soft under Finn’s hands, nearly invisible in its blondness. It’s coarser on his calves where they wrap around him while Leo tries (and fails) to catch his breath. The bedroom fan hums. Finn digs his fingertips into the thick, sun-flecked flesh joining the angles of Leo’s waist to the pert roundness of his ass. The tan line there that wraps around Leo, so fucking low, teases him—he licks that, too.
Finn loses himself in kissing his way up the rest of Leo’s body until it’s just them, in the memory of the pounding heat outside, tangled up in the kind of decadence he’s still getting used to. The drumming song in his head is only pleasure; it leaves his mouth slack when he nudges into the salt of Leo’s chest and lays all his weight down. His lips are numb. His jaw screams. Leo brings him closer when Finn gets at his throat with a touch of teeth and a puppylike snarl, and laughs, and all thought of soreness flees.
His phone pings with an all-too-familiar text tone. Leo’s fingertips press into his bare back. His knee hitches around Finn to keep him there, even as Finn raises his head to brush their noses together. Leo’s mouth is soft under his fingertips, and his eyes, blown black-blue. Finn makes himself look away to leave a kiss at his collarbone. “Your Lo’s calling.”
He feels Leo inhale, all sweet pleasure with the arch of his body against him. Finn would swear in front of any judge that that blush tastes like raspberries when he kisses each of Leo's cheeks. His brain sparks and fizzes at the thought of getting hard again this soon. It would hurt. He doesn’t care. Leo guides him up by the back of his hair until they’re eye-level again and—Finn never stood a chance—draws his thumb over the corner of Finn’s lips. “You gonna tell me what he wants?”
For one wild moment, Finn considers ignoring the text. They could go another round. Logan’s patient.
Hm. No, he’s not.
“As you wish,” Finn promises. That smile. Fucking Christ Almighty and the rest of them, too. He nestles himself between Leo’s thighs again (his hips this time, instead of his shoulders) and reaches blindly for their nightstand while grazing a few more pecks across the slight arc of his clavicle. He makes sure to mouth at Leo’s sensitive ears and the place one meets his neck, if only to keep him laughing like that. Once he’s sure Leo will survive a few seconds without being kissed, he props himself on his elbows with a groan and squints down at the screen. Leo’s clever hands slip down to hold his waist. The base part of his brain tells him those big paws could reach the whole way around. Sometimes, he thinks they should give it a shot.
"One new message from Logan Tob-oh-gan Trebamalay," he reads aloud, carding through the side of Leo’s sweaty hair where it halos him against blue cotton in the safe bracket of Finn’s forearms. “Forgot my keys. Outside.”
Leo snorts, covering his eyes with one hand. “God, Lo.”
A knock sounds at the front door. They lose themselves in giggling.
--
Logan is getting impatient.
They’re home. He checked their location twenty minutes ago, when he realized his house key was still in the bowl, and fifty-five seconds ago, when peering through the peephole gave him absolutely no clues.
The door swings open. Logan loses every thought skipping through his head like a seventy-car pileup.
“Well, hello,” Finn says, leaning his forearm on the doorway beside them. “No solicitors, please. Didn’t you see the sign?”
His hip is cocked, his bicep flexed, his abs right there for Logan to touch (he wouldn’t even have to reach far), but it’s none of that that draws Logan’s entire focus to a single pinpoint. It’s his mouth. Grinning and sharp-toothed and red. Red, red, and wet as a cherry when the thin skin first pops and leaves Finn to slurp the juice off his hand. It looks like it hurts. He could slip two fingers into the heat of Finn’s mouth and never feel a moment of friction.
Belatedly, Logan realizes Finn’s wearing Leo’s underwear. The hand not drumming along their doorframe with faux exasperation bunches the cotton and elastic over the jut of his hip.
Finn’s still sweaty. Fucking fuck.
Logan only catches a glimpse of the red hair trailing down below Finn’s navel when that hand twists in the front of his shirt and yanks him inside. His back slams the door shut behind them, and then it’s mouth and tongue and lips and mouth, hungry, nibbling at Logan between breaths hotter than the sidewalk outside. Finn licks past his teeth before Logan can beat him to it: salt, himself, and Leo. Logan’s head spins and spins. His dick throbs. He shoves both hands down the front of Finn’s—Leo’s—boxers and groans at the sticky dampness still clinging to him, swallowing down Finn’s hiss when he closes a hand around the mostly-soft length of him.
“Harzy…”
Finn’s shiver ricochets off Logan’s clinging hands. Logan can’t blame him. Leo’s demands are clear and precise even in just one word, and he nudges his nose to Finn’s cheek to kiss the corner of his smile before taking him by the hand to pull him down the hall.
The sight that greets him is—
“Fuck.”
It’s—yeah. Fuck. Logan’s brain supplies nothing else. Leo smiles up at him sweetly. The utter wreck of their bed hugs him close where he lounges, debauched, flushed from head to toe in pretty patterns with one hand propping his chin up from the pillows.
“Hi, Lo,” he says softly.
Logan hears himself make a suffering sort of noise. He looks at Finn, and with a wave of his hand only manages, “without me?”
The boxers slump dangerously low. Finn scratches the side of his nose. He still hasn’t looked away from Leo, and Logan can’t blame him. “Yeah, this was…” Finn blows out a breath. “Entirely my fault.”
“Without me?”
“We can go again,” Leo volunteers, always such a team player even when he’s looking at Finn like a goddamn lynx. Logan kind of wants those teeth to sink into his jugular, next. He has to press the heel of his palm against himself when Leo rolls languidly onto his back and flexes his ankles all the way to the end of the bed. All. The way. “Right, Harz?”
“Yeah,” Finn says immediately. “Yeah, please. Yes.”
Logan can’t think. Leo had come—on himself, he realizes, though most of the mess is gone. Finn had still been sticky, and Leo was still catching his breath, if the fading color on his face and chest said anything at all. Leo had come, and it was recent.
He doesn’t bother asking when. His pants hit the floor in a heap; he kicks his ankle free, already reaching for Leo across the short expanse of ruined sheets. Logan hears Finn curse behind him at the same time Leo cups his face in his palms and pulls him down for a deep, pleased kiss. Logan feels his chest hum and goes lax. His weight makes Leo smile, and an arm comes around his shoulders to flip them over.
“Off,” Leo requests, pushing his hands up under Logan’s shirt.
Logan’s eyes flutter shut when cool bedroom air bathes his chest. Leo’s hands are quick to follow, and his thigh slots between Logan’s so smoothly he’s already kissing the hiss from Logan’s mouth by the time it slips out. Logan grinds up against him, feeling the mattress dip when Finn joins them. He knots one hand in Leo’s mussed curls and flails the other out in Finn’s general direction. The backs of his fingers slap against skin and he hears Finn laugh, even through Leo’s low noise when he gives his hair a tug. There, there, there—
“Pull harder,” Leo mumbles into his mouth.
It quakes through Logan whip-fast. Leo’s not giving him much, but it’s everything and more. Logan can feel his quad flex and release in the smallest motions to help him along, to ease the way, to meet him where he’s at because Leo knows better than anyone how hard it is to rock against someone when you’re pinned down tight by a strong body and a loving mouth.
That thought alone gets Logan over the cusp of the first one. His hips buck; the glide smooths, and so does Leo’s grin.
“Fuck,” he grates out. “Merde, Le.”
“Keep going.” Breath, hot between them. What Finn must have done to him to keep Leo’s lips unswollen…Logan feels himself twitch, thighs clenching around Leo’s own.
He pulls back to catch his breath, though it does little when every bit of motion steals it anew. Finn’s already looking back when Logan finds him, idly splayed over the other half of the mattress like a lord or a prince of their tiny castle. Humor quirks his mouth. “Hot out there, huh?”
Logan whines.
“Pretty hot in here, too.” Finn thumbs over his cheekbone when the fireworks of Leo’s teeth on his neck make Logan groan. “Poor thing. You didn’t even get a warning.”
He’s going to come again. He can feel it, low in his belly, tingling up his legs. “What’d you—” Logan breaks to land a few desperate kisses over Leo’s mouth. “What’d you do? Tell me.”
Finn wets his lips, though he hardly needs to. Logan’s seen him like that before. It used to scour his insides with fervent envy, made worse by the rumors that dogged Finn’s reputation through their last years because he knew they were true. He’d seen half the girls, and knew about the rest. Logan had always been proud that his own name was never mentioned far behind.
Leo’s the lucky one, tonight and forever. As his second orgasm hits like a landslide, Logan’s never been less jealous in his life.
Finn pets his hair off his forehead and helps him through it with his mouth on Logan’s shoulder, his chest, the brush of a nipple, heightening the rush of Leo’s thigh pressed flush against him and his body covering Logan from top to bottom. A sigh whispers across the sweat just beading over Logan’s neck. Leo nuzzles up to the hinge of his jaw in unabashed contentment.
“He put my knees all the way up here.”
Logan shuts his eyes. The butter-thick accent is a cruelty and a blessing.
Leo sighs again, as if the memory is too good to trim down. “Didn’t get ‘em back for ages. Kept me spread open like a damn book.”
“So good…” Finn says into the crown of his head.
And isn’t that a picture.
Leo’s index finger trails across Logan’s collarbones; left, then right. Down his sternum, over his tattoo, tracing his v-line, all while avoiding his cock with tantalizing intention. Logan feels a little like he’s going to pass out if they don’t fucking do something soon—
Leo noses at his cheek and kisses his obvious delight into Logan’s upper lip. “Shower with me. Then it’s your turn.”
