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•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Everyone who visits the live house knows just how mysterious—and devastatingly sexy—the bartender of By the Beat is.
The way he handles drinks with effortless flair. The way his voice rolls like aged rum over velvet. The way he throws that pretty smile over his shoulder like it’s nothing. And those eyes? Dangerous. Hypnotic. A little tired, a little flirty. Utterly beautiful.
He’s eye candy in a glass. Garnished with charm. Served with just enough shadow to keep you guessing.
Some patrons whisper, He’s perfect boyfriend material...
Except his actual boyfriends would very much like a word with you.
At the door, Kaelix stood with his usual charming grin, arms loosely crossed over his chest. His jacket caught the light just so, his silver earrings glinting like tiny threats. He alternated his gaze between the bar and backstage, ever the vigilant guardian. Ever the quietly anxious boyfriend.
He narrowed his eyes. “...Is that fried rice again?”
He hummed—a casual observation. Until later that night—when all four of them were sharing dinner—and Zeal, radiant and oblivious, mentioned, mouth full of rice:
“Oh yeah, I left it out for like, three days before I fried it.”
A silence fell over the table. The kind that breaks sound barriers. Time itself stopped.
Kaelix nearly dropped his utensils in horror. “DARLING, how are you still alive?!”
Freo’s eye twitched. He set his bowl down with the quiet finality of someone about to commit manslaughter. “I thought microwaving coffee was the lowest culinary sin you could commit, but this—this is food-based nihilism, Zeal.”
Seible let out a tight, almost feral laugh. “Gin-chan, my love, my joy, my regret in the form of a man—this is how we die.”
Zeal blinked at them innocently, chopsticks still moving. “What? Nooo. I’m perfectly fine! Actually, when I switched brands and made the rice the normal way, I got the worst food poisoning of my life. Like, apocalyptic. I was sweating out demons. But I’m okay now!”
Freo froze. “Wait—that was from switching brands? Not the three-day-old rice?!”
Kaelix dropped his face into his hands. “This is where all your luck went—into surviving yourself.” He scoffed in disbelief.
Zeal just shrugged and popped another bite in his mouth like he wasn’t on culinary death row. “Life’s a gacha,baby” he said with a little wink.
The other three stared. Unblinking. Full of fear. Full of rage. Full of love, unfortunately.
Seible whispered, “We’re going to have to intervene, he is dead serious.”
Freo sighed like someone who’d been cursed in twelve different languages. “I’ll prepare the presentation.”
Kaelix leaned back in his chair, dead-eyed. “This week, we commit a noble crime... for the greater good. We can’t let him die yet.”
…
Later That Week
It was the end of a long stretch of shifts, and for once, Kaelix had asked Zeal to close the live house. Something about “needing extra time for mixing prep,” he’d said. Harmless enough.
Zeal didn’t question it. He rarely did when he was all tired and smug.
He trudged into the shared apartment just after midnight, loosening his tie with a dramatic groan. Still in his overcoat, fedora tipped low, he kicked off his boots and exhaled.
“Man, tonight was packed. I’m starving—”
Click.
The overhead lights snapped off. Only the warm flicker of lamps and candles remained.
Zeal paused mid-step. The room had transformed into something ominously cozy—suspiciously theatrical.
From the hallway, Kaelix stepped forward, arms folded, silhouette backlit like a final boss. His voice was honeyed. Threatening. “Welcome home, sugar. Hope you didn’t eat anything... expired tonight.”
Zeal squinted. “...What?”
A curtain fluttered.
Out popped Seible, grinning far too wide, clipboard in hand and a star sticker on his cheek. “Mr. Zeal Ginjoka,” he announced in his best courtroom drama voice, “You stand accused of culinary crimes, reckless endangerment, and making your boyfriends gag in ways not covered under cute tags.”
Zeal opened his mouth. “Wait, what—”
A shadow shifted in the corner. Freo emerged, legs crossed in a high-backed chair by the window, dressed entirely in black. One elbow rested on the armrest like a mob boss in a Netflix adaptation.
His voice was dangerously calm. “Take a seat. You’re on trial.”
Zeal took a cautious step back. “Oh. Oh no.”
…
Zeal blinked slowly from the chair in the middle of the candlelit room, the dim glow making everything feel a little too intimate for an impromptu courtroom.
“This feels illegal,” he said at last, arms crossed. “You know I live here too, right?”
Kaelix smirked where he leaned against the wall. “Not emotionally. Not until you refrigerate your rice properly.”
Freo sighed from his seat at the window, one leg over the other, dressed like a gothic judge. “This isn’t a trial, Zeal. It’s an intervention.”
Seible, holding a clipboard too big for his tiny hands, tilted his head dramatically. “A court-mandated boyfriendly intervention. For the safety of all parties involved, including your digestive tract.”
Zeal rolled his eyes. “You’re all acting like I’m a walking health hazard.”
“You are,” Kaelix said. “You left rice out for three days and then fried it with no shame.”
“I seasoned it first,” Zeal argued.
“You almost seasoned yourself into the grave, darling,” Seible said, flipping a page. “Not to mention the infamous coffee kettle.”
“That’s not even fair!” Zeal sat up straighter, offended. “I brew my coffee in a pot, store it in the fridge, then microwave a cup when I want it. It’s efficient. Not chaotic.”
Kaelix raised a brow. “Efficiently giving yourself stomach lining erosion.”
“Baby, if anything’s still surviving in that fridge, it deserves to be eaten,” Zeal declared.
“You’re literally Darwin-ing your own meals,” Freo said flatly.
“I’ve survived just fine!” Zeal threw his arms out. “Not even a single ER visit! I have the gut of a war god!”
Seible walked over and placed a gentle hand on Zeal’s shoulder. “Sweetheart. War gods don’t cry in the bathroom after eating something labeled ‘Might Be Chicken.’”
Zeal muttered something unintelligible in protest.
Freo stood, walking toward the kitchen. “We didn’t call this meeting just to scold you. We came with solutions.”
Kaelix picked up a neatly laminated chart from the counter and waved it like a scroll. “New rule. One of us cooks on rotation. You don’t eat unsupervised.”
Zeal recoiled. “I’m not a child.”
“Children have rules,” Freo said. “You? You’re a raccoon in a cocktail bar.”
Zeal slumped in the chair. “I can’t help it... Fresh food just tastes weird now. It’s too... new.”
Seible gasped. “Oh my god. “You’ve ruined your own mouth.”
Zeal squinted. “That sounds way dirtier than it is.”
Kaelix narrowed his eyes. “How can you not eat something fresh? What happens?”
Zeal fidgeted. “It’s not that serious. Just certain food . Too soft. Too clean. My body just goes ‘Nope. This is sus. This is how I die.’ And then my appetite evaporates.”
Seible tilted his head. “So what you're saying is... you need help easing back into food that isn't radioactive?”
Zeal nodded hesitantly. “...Yeah.”
A pause.
Seible’s grin turned absolutely impish. “Say no more.”
He scooped up a fresh bite of rice and veggies from the plate on the table. Then, with all the theatrics of a pop idol and all the menace of a gremlin, he leaned forward, lips parted.
“Say ‘ah~’”
Zeal froze. “Wait—no way you're actually—”
And then Seible kissed him. Well—technically, it was feeding. Their lips brushed, the bite passed between them, but Zeal made a startled noise halfway through like he just got hit with a spell.
“Mmph—! Wh—Seib!”
Seible sat back, licking his lips innocently. “Oh, look at that. You swallowed it just fine~”
Freo stared. Kaelix nearly dropped the chart.
Zeal, red-faced and stunned, coughed once. “That’s—! That’s illegal in at least three countries!”
Kaelix cleared his throat. “...Do it again.”
“Kaelix!”
“For science.”
“I’m gonna die,” Zeal whispered, gripping the chair like it would save him from their teasing.
Freo walked back over, holding a bowl of hot soup. “Eat first. Die later.”
Zeal looked up at them. Despite the mess and embarrassment they make him feel, his expression softened. “…You guys really want me to live, huh?”
Kaelix bent down to kiss his temple gently. “Yes, dumbass.”
Seible blew him a kiss from across the room. “We’re not letting our eye candy bartender boyfriend perish from lettuce trauma.”
Freo held out a spoon. “Open up... or Seible’s feeding you again.”
Zeal blinked, but somehow amused. “...Okay, I’ll eat, since you working so hard.”
But as he opened his mouth, Seible leaned forward again, eyes big and sparkling while Zeal baffled for the sec time.
“…Not from you, Seib—!”
…
While they were working on it, people said old habits die hard—and so did Zeal Ginjoka, that stubborn, beautiful disaster of a snake.
The very next day, Kaelix caught Zeal behind the bar, nibbling on a bagel that looked like it had been left out since the previous afternoon—dry, sad, and slightly fossilized.
“…Did you toast that?”
Zeal blinked innocently. “It’s naturally crispy.”
Kaelix raised a brow, unimpressed. “You’re naturally asking for a health violation.”
With a sigh, he plucked the bagel from Zeal’s hands and chucked it in the trash. Then, with no hesitation, he slid behind the bar and gently nudged Zeal out of his way.
“Close your eyes, you ridiculous bartender.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I said so,” Kaelix murmured, already crowding his space, “and because you trust me.”
That made Zeal grumble, but he complied—grudgingly. He barely got out a breath before Kaelix cupped his cheek and leaned in. Lips brushed lips—soft, coaxing, intentional.
Warm, buttered scrambled eggs passed from Kaelix’s mouth to his.
Zeal let out a surprised noise, muffled by the kiss, and Kaelix smirked as he swallowed it whole.
“There,” Kaelix said cheerfully, licking a thumb and tapping Zeal’s cheek. “Now you’ve eaten something edible. And I got to kiss you. Win-win.”
He strutted away like nothing happened, leaving a stunned Zeal standing alone behind the counter.
“…Okay,” Zeal muttered. “Rude. But effective.”
….
A few days later, at home, Freo caught Zeal dragging his feet through lunch—literally staring down a fresh, lovely plate like it had insulted his ancestors. He was eating, technically, but at the speed of erosion.
“Is it too fresh,” Freo asked, voice suspiciously neutral, “or are you just being fussy, big boy?”
Zeal stabbed a cherry tomato with needless force. “It’s fine.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I—”
Without a word, Freo picked up one of the cherry tomatoes, took a casual bite, and then—stone-faced—climbed onto Zeal’s lap.
Zeal’s whole body tensed. “Wait—no way you’re—”
Freo leaned in, eyes cool and unreadable. He guided the remaining half of the tomato between parted lips and brought it to Zeal’s.
Their noses almost touched.
Zeal’s breath hitched. He accepted the bite without thinking, cheeks darkening like dusk creeping across his skin.
“I—I—what the hell,” he stammered, voice embarrassingly high.
Freo sat back, calmly dusting imaginary lint from his pants. “It’s food. Stop being dramatic.”
“You fed me with your mouth!”
“And you liked it.”
Zeal stared at him, betrayed by the unmistakable flutter of his heart. “…God, you’re so smug.”
“I’m correct,” Freo replied with finality—but the smug little curl on his lips betrayed his quiet glee.
The real chaos arrived a week later, right in the middle of Zeal’s shift.
The live house buzzed with conversation, music vibrating from the back room. Zeal, sleeves rolled up and apron tied tight, was in full cocktail-shaker mode when Seible leaned across the bar, resting his chin in his hands.
“Gin-chan~ Did you eat today?”
Zeal hesitated. That face—the one he made when he was either about to lie or commit a minor crime—surfaced. “Uhh… kinda?”
Seible’s brow creased. “What does kinda mean?”
“I had coffee.”
“That’s not food,” Seible deadpanned. “Try again.”
Zeal looked away, scratching his cheek. “…I may have had some slightly crunchy, definitely gluten-free spaghetti.”
Seible looked like he was about to faint. “Gin-chan, your beautiful soul just wounded mine.”
The bar patrons nearby chuckled, watching them like it was a live drama.
““Uh-oh. Bartender’s in trouble again. The promoter’s about to go full lecture mode.” someone whispered.
“Shh, it’s cute,” said another. “I ship them.”
And then Seible, without shame, pulled a small rice ball from his bag, took a bite—then leaned across the bar, hand delicately tilting Zeal’s chin.
“Say ‘ah~’” he said, sultry and bright-eyed.
Zeal flinched, eyes darting to the crowd. “You wouldn’t—!”
“Oh, I would.”
And he did.
The handoff—warm rice transferred mouth-to-mouth—was ridiculously smooth. The crowd lost it.
“You’re adorable!” someone cheered.
“Now kiss again!”
“Is that on the secret menu?!”
Zeal flushed so hard he swore steam might come out of his ears. “SEIB.”
Seible just beamed like he’d won a trophy. “Now you have to eat fresh. Public accountability, baby.”
From the corner of the room, Kaelix groaned from his bouncer’s perch. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Freo, still at the soundboard, didn’t even look up. “Punishment games. For both of them.”
Zeal wiped his mouth with the back of his glove, trying in vain to reclaim his dignity—but his pink-stained cheeks betrayed him.
“You guys are insane.”
Seible leaned in again, voice low and syrupy. “And you love it.”
Zeal stared at him for a beat.
“…Unfortunately,” he admitted, lips twitching into a reluctant grin, “I really do.”
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
It was the weekend—and of course, as you'd expect, our silly lover boys had their own little ritual.
Zeal wasn’t bad at cooking. He was just… experimental. Bold. Occasionally bordering on culinary anarchy.
Still, he’d survived this long on his peculiar eating habits: refrigerated pot coffee, microwaved after three days; rice left out overnight then stir-fried; and a spice tolerance that defied science and common sense.
But his boyfriends had officially decided they were done pretending that was okay.
“I’m not saying you’re banned from the kitchen,” Freo began as he rolled up his sleeves, “but you’re banned from unsupervised fridge rice experiments.”
Zeal leaned against the counter with a lazy grin, shirt half-buttoned, hair clipped up messily by Kaelix. “But that’s the best kind. Builds character.”
“Builds bacteria,” Kaelix corrected, chopping sweet bell peppers with casual menace. “And then we get texts like ‘baby my stomach is making whale sounds again’ at 4 A.M.”
Seible twirled into view with a bowl of pre-mixed salad, voice lilting. “Honestly, it’s kinda impressive you’ve survived this long, Gin-chan~ You’re like the sexy cryptid of culinary abomination.”
“I’m perfectly alive,” Zeal said, unbothered. “And perfectly sexy. You just said it.”
“Debatable,” Freo muttered, side-eyeing the man like he was personally offended by the coffee pot still sitting in the fridge, labeled ‘Do Not Throw Out’.
They’d declared it a Group Cooking Day, not because Zeal couldn’t cook—but because they loved him. And they couldn’t handle another round of him eating Oreos with ramen seasoning sprinkled on top like some depraved garnish.
Kaelix made jerk chicken skewers—extra spicy, per Zeal’s request. Seible prepped a miso salad with tamago and seasoned rice. Freo, ever the detail freak, crafted a gluten-free mushroom pasta tossed in garlic oil, herbs, and a splash of lemon.
They’d made sure everything was safe: no fish, no gluten bombs, and not a raw onion in sight. (Kaelix didn’t even want to look at one.)
Zeal was allowed to cook—but only under observation. His contribution: roasted vegetables in chili oil and pan-seared tofu drizzled in a rum-laced glaze. Dangerous? Yes. Delicious? Also yes.
Then came the feeding.
Seible struck first.
“Open wide~” he purred, already leaning in with a bite of soft tamago rice held delicately between his lips.
Zeal, still stirring a sauce, tilted his head. “That my lunch or yours?”
Seible smirked, brushing a strand of hair back with practiced charm. “It’s ours.”
Their lips met halfway, and the eggy sweetness melted on his tongue like a secret.
Kaelix caught them mid-act and pointed a knife—playfully. “Hey! That’s unsanctioned mouth-to-mouth.”
“I dunno,” Zeal teased, licking his lips. “Tastes sanctioned to me.”
Minutes later, Kaelix brought over his skewers. “Alright, hotshot. Time to prove you’ve got a real spice tolerance.”
He took a bite first, then leaned in close, lips glistening from sauce. “You brave enough?”
Zeal met him halfway, eyes locked. The kiss hit like a firecracker—smoky, sweet, and distinctly Kaelix. Zeal’s eyes watered—not from love, but fire. “Holy—love. You’re trying to kill me.”
“I would never,” Kaelix said sweetly. “That’s Freo’s job.”
“I heard that,” Freo called from the stove, cool and composed.
Freo approached last, carrying his pasta like a divine offering. “This one,” he said, “is actually mild. Balanced. Safe for sensitive stomachs.”
“Are you calling me weak?” Zeal smirked.
“No,” Freo replied, unbothered. “I’m calling you dumb.”
He ate a bite first, then wiped his lips with a cloth napkin. “Now. Come here.”
Zeal leaned in, grinning—and Freo pressed their mouths together. The tang of lemon and garlic slipped onto Zeal’s tongue like a soft-spoken spell.
Zeal groaned. “That’s… really good.”
Freo pulled back, eyes half-lidded and just a little smug. “Told you.”
After lunch...
They collapsed in a sunlit sprawl on the bedroom floor, full and flushed and satisfied. Zeal, belly warm and heart fuller than usual, sighed contentedly. “I didn’t die. This is shocking.”
“We’re very proud,” Seible said, draping himself over Zeal like a weighted blanket. “He ate real food, everyone.”
Kaelix gave him a small head pat. “I’m putting this on the calendar.”
“You’re all dramatic,” Zeal muttered—secretly smiling.
Then Seible whispered something to Freo, who smirked—and before Zeal could protest, they were feeding him again. Seible popped a grape in his mouth, leaned in, and kissed him briefly.
Kaelix followed with a sweeter snack—dried fruit dipped in honey—stealing a kiss afterward.
Freo brought water to “cleanse the palate”, and if his fingers lingered a little long on Zeal’s jaw, no one said anything.
That night...
Back at work for their night event with VIP patrons, Zeal stood behind the bar as always—coat stylish, hat tilted, eyes glinting beneath the low, golden lights.
Then, without warning, Seible walked up mid-shift and fed him a small spoonful of jelly roll.
Mouth-to-mouth. In front of the crowd.
Zeal blinked. Licked his lips. A few patrons whistled.
“Aren’t they adorable?” someone cooed. “I love them.”
Kaelix leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching with fond exasperation. Freo just shook his head with a long-suffering sigh.
Zeal wiped his mouth with the back of his glove and turned to the audience with a wink.
“What can I say?” he purred, voice smooth like velvet over rum. “I’ve got a sweet tooth.”
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Funny thing about affection: Despite how blatant it often is, some new patrons just don’t know—not unless they see it for themselves. And the boys? They don’t usually let jealousy boil over. Not in public, not for just anyone. But that day...
They cracked.
It started with a wink.
Zeal was behind the bar, mixing drinks with the kind of grace that made it look like an art form. His gloved hands moved fluidly, voice low and honey-smooth, blending right into the hum of the club. Neon lights spilled soft color over leather seats and polished floors. Music pulsed up from the foundation like a heartbeat. A few patrons let their eyes linger too long—especially tonight.
“Hey, bartender,” came a sultry voice from the end of the bar. “What’s your name?”
Zeal didn’t look up right away. “Depends who’s asking.”
“I’m someone who likes danger,” the stranger replied, swirling a martini with manicured fingers. “And you look like trouble.”
That earned them a glance and one of Zeal’s signature lazy grins. His fedora tilted just enough to shadow his eyes. “Well, you’re in luck. I’m Zeal.”
“Of course you are,” they said, leaning in. “You look like a heartbreaker.”
He chuckled. “Only on special occasions.”
From across the club, Seible froze mid-bite of panna cotta.
“Hold the entire damn track,” he hissed, already rising from the couch, fire practically radiating off him.
Kaelix, sipping a mocktail with one leg crossed over the other, followed his gaze—and immediately scowled. “Who the hell is that?”
Freo closed his book with a soft snap. “Someone about to find out that flirting with Zeal is a full-contact sport.”
The patron had just started another flirty line when Seible arrived like a glitter bomb with a vengeance—sliding behind the bar and winding his arms around Zeal like he belonged there. (He did.)
“Hi hi~” he chimed, chin resting on Zeal’s shoulder. “You need help, baby?”
Zeal tilted his head slightly, amused. “Thought you were off duty.”
“I’m always on duty when someone’s making googly eyes at my man,” Seible said sweetly. Then flashed the stranger a grin that was 50% sugar, 50% fangs.
“Oh?” the patron raised a brow. “Didn’t realize he was taken.”
Seible’s grin widened. He leaned in closer, brushing lips against Zeal’s cheek before gently feeding him a mochi—mouth to mouth. “We’re sharing.”
Kaelix was next. He arrived with the kind of poise that made people instinctively clear a path.
“Looking for a drink?” he asked the patron, voice smooth but sharp. “Or were you hoping to get served a knuckle sandwich?”
“Kaelix,” Zeal said with a warning tone, half-laughing under his breath.
“I’m joking. Mostly.” Kaelix leaned in, brushed his thumb across Zeal’s lips, and then—slow as syrup—licked the corner of his mouth. “You missed a spot.”
“Flirting’s allowed, isn’t it?” the patron replied, clearly entertained. “He didn’t say no.”
“I’ll say no to getting blood on the tiles,” Freo muttered, gliding into the scene like it had been choreographed.
With practiced calm, he handed the patron a napkin, then turned to Zeal. “Open.”
Zeal blinked, confused, but obeyed. Freo placed a sugar-dusted grape between his lips and followed it with a kiss that felt more like ritual than impulse.
The patron just… stared.
“…So you’re all… together?”
“Yes,” Freo, Kaelix, and Seible said in eerie, perfect unison.
“And you feed him like that all the time?”
Seible smirked. “Only when he’s being good. Or bad. Or cute. Or breathing.”
Zeal chuckled, finally shaking his head. “Sorry, love. My dance card’s a little full these days.”
The patron laughed softly, lifting their drink and stepping back. “No offense, but that was the hottest rejection I’ve ever gotten.”
Once they were gone, the boys didn’t move away. They hovered around Zeal like bodyguards with benefits.
“You love stirring up trouble,” Kaelix muttered, poking his cheek.
Zeal shrugged, still smiling. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You existed,” Freo said flatly. “And that’s more than enough.”
Seible hopped up onto the bar with a grin, legs swinging. “I think we should feed him more. For safety reasons.”
Zeal spread his arms dramatically. “At your mercy, gentlemen.”
One by one, they took turns—offering him sweets, sips, and occasional kisses between bites.
The rest of the bar watched in stunned silence.
One customer whispered, “I thought this was a bar, not a boyfriend buffet.”
Another replied, “It’s performance art. Shut up and watch.”
Later, after the crowd had thinned and the lights dimmed just slightly, Zeal wiped down the counter with a little extra swing in his step.
Freo caught his eye. “You like being shown off, don’t you?”
Zeal’s grin turned smug. “Maybe. What can I say? I’m delicious.”
Seible leaned in, voice low. “Wanna prove it again after close?”
Kaelix laughed, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “He’ll eat anything but fresh fish and gluten—but yeah, go ahead. Test that theory.”
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
By now, patrons at BY THE BEAT no longer blink twice when a drink is slipped between lips instead of handed over politely.
Feeding Zeal had become so normal, it might as well be on the menu.
Some came for the music. Others, for the cocktails. But most—let’s be honest—came for the boyfriends ensemble show.
“Zeal, baby, open up~” Seible sang, leaning over the bar with a strawberry dipped in dark chocolate clutched delicately between his teeth, as if it were the most casual thing in the world.
Zeal blinked mid-shake, cocktail mixer in both gloved hands. “Right now?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t. I’m—mmph.”
Seible smushed the berry into his mouth anyway and followed it with a cheek kiss, humming contentedly. “That’s for breakfast.”
Zeal chewed and gave him a look. “Since when is chocolate a breakfast fruit?”
“Since I said so,” Seible winked. A few nearby patrons clapped.
At home, things weren’t any better. Or worse. Depending on who you asked.
They had a routine now.
Kaelix handled most breakfasts—always double-checking labels, squinting at expiration dates, sometimes interrogating packaging like it had personally wronged him.
“Can you believe this rice brand used to poison him?” Kaelix muttered once, stirring a pot like it owed him money. He was on a silent vendetta against Zeal’s tragic history of reckless cooking.
Freo, meanwhile, had become the stealth feeder. Elegant. Silent. Deadly.
Zeal would be sprawled across the couch, nose in a book, and suddenly there’d be Freo—holding out a spoonful of soup or a forkful of quinoa salad.
“Open,” Freo said, not unkindly but with quiet finality.
Zeal didn’t even question it anymore. He’d just open his mouth, blinking in slow confusion a second later. “...How did you even get here?”
“I’m always here when you need me,” Freo said with a small smirk, already disappearing into the next room like a specter of health.
Then there was Seible.
The chaos incarnate.
Whipped cream between his lips, daring Zeal to take it. Jello cubes squished into Zeal’s mouth while he tried to finish invoices. A popsicle slowly dragged across his bottom lip in the middle of July.
“You’re gonna make me choke one day,” Zeal muttered through gritted teeth.
“Only on love,” Seible giggled—before being smacked in the face with a pillow.
But it wasn’t just about food.
It was everything else. The way they hovered. Quiet, constant, protective.
Kaelix would refill his water glass without being asked. Freo scanned expiration dates on anything Zeal even glanced at in the fridge. Seible had downloaded three different meal tracking apps "just to keep an eye on things, teehee."
Zeal tried to protest. Tried being the operative word.
“I’m not helpless.”
Kaelix raised a perfectly unimpressed brow. “You once boiled eggs by pouring hot water into a plastic bag.”
“That was one time.”
“You left rice out for three days and still ate it like a sewer goblin.”
Zeal crossed his arms. “Okay, but I survived.”
“We’re not gambling with your gacha life anymore,” Freo said flatly.
It hit Zeal one night—quiet and sudden.
The bar was closed. The apartment still.
He had just stepped out of the shower, towel slung around his neck, silver hair dripping onto warm shoulders. His cheeks glowed faintly from the steam.
Kaelix was already in bed, scrolling rhythm game charts on his phone with a look of laser focus.
Freo sat nearby, sipping tea, book in hand. His reading glasses rested low on the bridge of his nose.
And Seible burst in from the kitchen with a little mochi pinched delicately between his lips.
“Bedtime snack for our favorite old man~” he cooed.
“I’m not that old,” Zeal grumbled, letting himself be fed without a second thought. “I’m just—hey, stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” Freo asked, tilting his head.
“Like I’m your tragic cooking mistake from a soft boy anime.”
“But you are,” Seible whispered, too sincerely.
Kaelix tugged him into bed by the waist with a smug grin. “You’re the rare drop in our ten-pull.”
Zeal huffed, glancing away. But before he could say another word, he was surrounded—arms around his waist, shoulders, back. Breath warm against his skin.
“You’re really never gonna let me live down that rice thing, huh?”
“Nope,” they said, perfectly synchronized.
And yet, tucked in the glow of their arms, cheeks burning, ears pink with embarrassment and love, Zeal finally whispered:
“You guys really do love me, huh?”
“Like crazy,” Freo murmured.
“Like rabid gremlins,” Seible added with a grin.
“Like your life depends on it,” Kaelix said softly.
Zeal laughed, short and breathy, heart thudding against three chests.
“…Aw shucks.”
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Extra: •••••••••♡•••••••••
It was already late into the night, and for some reason, the live house was packed—customers swooning over Zeal and his drinks. The attention had put him in an unrelenting work mode, snapping him into a stricter stance than usual.
“Just for today, no feeding,” Zeal warned the others, firmly tightening the line as he bustled behind the bar with practiced grace. He wasn’t angry—just hyper-focused, running on fumes and caffeine.
Seible and Kaelix, naturally, made a fuss about it. But Freo, with the calm confidence of a man who knew exactly what cards he held, played the voice of reason.
With a twist, of course.
By the time Zeal kicked off his boots around midnight, the weight of the last shift clung to him like smoke. His joints buzzed with overuse, his shoulders slouched, and he looked absolutely miserable. He rolled his shoulders with a grunt, tugged his cravat loose, and paused—
A warm, spicy aroma drifted in from the kitchen.
“Hm?”
“You’re finally home~,” came Seible’s voice, sing-song and suspiciously sweet.
Red flag number one.
“Welcome back, Zeal,” Kaelix chimed in from behind the bedroom door. “We made dinner.”
Zeal frowned, toeing into the hallway. “Dinner? At this hour? I can just eat in the morning, y’know…”
“That’s exactly the problem, baby,” Freo’s voice cut through from the living room, smooth as silk and cool as a foggy morning. He lounged like royalty, draped over the couch, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. “Your stomach isn’t made of steel. Coffee is not a meal.”
Zeal let out a weary exhale. “You got me.”
But the smile curling his lips gave away his surrender.
In the dining room, warm lights cast soft shadows across the space. Cutlery clinked gently, and three elegantly plated dishes waited on the table. His own was placed at the head—like bait. And he knew it was a trap. Because across from him were his three very attentive boyfriends.
Kaelix leaned in with a grin too wide to be innocent. Seible swung his legs, spoon in hand and that glint of mischief in his eyes. Freo drummed his fingers against the table, watching him with a calculating calm.
Zeal narrowed his eyes. “...You’re plotting something.”
Kaelix cupped his cheeks. “We’re plotting to keep you alive, love.”
Then came the feeding as usual.
It started innocently enough.
Seible leaned forward, offering a bite of grilled chicken glazed in sweet citrus sauce. Something light, comforting. Easy on the gut.
“Say ‘aah~,’” he teased, tapping the spoon to Zeal’s lips.
Zeal locked eyes with him and bit slowly. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Seible grinned. “Let it be known, I haven’t kissed you today. This is efficiency.”
Kaelix was next, scooping up a bit of garlic rice. “This one doesn’t smell like death. I even researched food safety storage methods!”
Zeal deadpanned. “You Googled it.”
“I Googled it for you, Zaddy~.”
And then there was Freo.
He said nothing at first. Just stood, walked around the chair like a wolf circling its prey, and leaned down until his breath ghosted against Zeal’s ear.
“Open.”
Zeal tilted his head, expecting sass—
Only to freeze as Freo pressed a sliver of food to his lips. Mouth to mouth. Slow. Deliberate. Reverent.
His breath caught. “Oh,” he whispered.
Kaelix chuckled beside him. “Freo just activated his final form.”
“You guys are seriously—mmmph—!”
Seible silenced him with another kiss-fed bite. Warm lips. Sweet glaze. A slow press of his knee sliding between Zeal’s thighs beneath the table.
“You’re the reason we’re like this,” Seible murmured, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re lucky we love you.”
Zeal groaned softly. “You’re all insane.”
Kaelix pushed hair from his face. “And yet, look how red you’re getting.”
“I’m not—blushing—”
“Want a mirror?” Freo offered smugly, his hands now massaging slow circles into Zeal’s shoulders. By the time dinner ended, the air had changed—charged with something unspoken. Laughter was louder, touches lingered longer. Zeal didn’t protest anymore. He leaned into it—flushed, breath warm, lips kissed, and limbs pliant.
…
Later that night…
It began with Seible crawling onto the bed first, straddling Zeal’s hips and brushing crumbs from his lips.
“Still hungry?”
“Please don’t,” Zeal half-laughed, half-gasped—
As Kaelix slid in behind him, nuzzling and kissing the nape of his neck.
“I swear I’m full—”
“Oh, but we’re not,” Freo said lowly, already undoing the first button of Zeal’s shirt.
Zeal’s breath hitched. Kaelix’s lips moved down his shoulder, trailing kisses that burned.
“You should blush more often,” he whispered. “You’re too cute like this.”
Seible traced lazy circles on Zeal’s stomach, leaning in close to kiss the corner of his mouth.
“We’re gonna take such good care of you, Gin-chan~.”
Zeal trembled—sensitive to their every touch, perhaps because he is more tired than usual. Kaelix’s lips nibbled at his ear, Seible’s fingers played with his chest while kissing him slowly. His voice got caught somewhere between a moan and denial.
Freo’s lips brushed against his wrist, his eyes deep and tender, grounding Zeal in the middle of it all.
Zeal trembled slightly, feeling their fingers trailing over his skin. Kaelix’s lips brushed along the shell of his ear, soft and slow, then nibbled gently, his breath hot as he whispered, “You work too hard. Let us make you forget.”
Seible’s smirk was wicked but warm as he kissed down Zeal’s chest, lingering over each button he undid. “You’re burning up, Gin-chan~,” he teased, tongue flicking playfully before tracing slow, lazy circles around Zeal’s nipple. Zeal gasped, back arching against the sheets.
Kaelix was behind him now, arms wrapped around his waist, hands tracing the dips of his hips with reverent care. “You feel so warm,” he murmured, fingers slipping lower, lips trailing kisses along Zeal’s shoulder blade, then lower still, until Zeal's breath hitched sharply.
Freo—calm, composed Freo—lowered himself beside them with a controlled grace, but his eyes burned with intensity. He reached for Zeal’s hand, kissed the inside of his wrist, then guided it gently to his own chest. “Feel that?” he whispered, voice velvet-smooth. “That’s how much you affect me.”
Zeal’s fingers curled, dazed. His voice caught somewhere between a moan and protest. “You guys are too much—”
Freo silenced him with a kiss, deep and slow, tilting Zeal’s chin as he dominated the space between them. No teasing, no games—just soft, fluid motion and the slide of tongue against tongue. Zeal melted into it, whimpering when Freo’s fingers slid into his hair.
Kaelix began to rock slightly behind him, hips brushing against Zeal’s in teasing rhythm, his mouth never stopping its exploration along Zeal’s neck. “Look at you… blushing all the way to your ears.”
“You should do that more often,” Seible whispered from below, his lips pressing a kiss just under Zeal’s ribs before trailing back up. “You’re adorable like this. Sweet. Desperate.”
Zeal squirmed, overwhelmed. The way Kaelix held him, the way Seible’s hands mapped his body like it was the only thing that mattered, the way Freo kissed him like a slow-burning prayer—it was dizzying.
He felt undone. Devoured. Cherished.
Their touches weren’t rushed; they were deliberate. Every fingertip, every kiss, every sigh drawn from Zeal was earned, cradled, and savored.
Kaelix murmured affirmations between kisses. “We’ve got you.”
Freo's voice anchored him: “Let go.”
Seible chuckled into his skin: “You’re the best meal we’ve had all week.”
Zeal writhed beneath them, breathless and flushed, his hands grabbing hold of whoever he could—Kaelix’s wrist, Seible’s hair, Freo’s collar—as if afraid he’d be swept away. Their names tumbled from his lips like mantras, low and urgent.
Zeal's breath hitched again, sharp and thin, as Kaelix’s hands slid beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. “Kae—wait—” he panted, but his hips lifted traitorously, chasing the warmth of those fingers.
“No waiting,” Kaelix murmured, licking up the line of Zeal’s neck, nipping at the pulse fluttering beneath the skin. “Not when you’re this wet already.”
Zeal bit down a moan as Kaelix’s fingers brushed over him—slick, teasing, tracing slow circles that had him twitching in Kaelix’s lap. He didn’t even remember when he got this hard, but gods, the three of them had been driving him crazy for over an hour now.
“Freo, he’s losing it,” Seible whispered, grinning as he leaned over to kiss Zeal’s thigh, then licked up the inside of it, eyes locked with his. “You want more, don’t you, Gin-chan?”
Zeal’s voice broke. “Y-yeah—”
Freo leaned in, lips brushing Zeal’s cheek, then sliding down to meet Kaelix’s fingers where they were stroking him slow and slick. Freo’s mouth was warm, deliberate. His tongue lapped at Zeal’s head, teasing the sensitive underside with soft, focused movements, while Kaelix held Zeal open with one arm, the other hand still working him with calculated pressure.
Seible moved up again, kissing Zeal's chest, then biting lightly at his nipple, making Zeal cry out. “So noisy,” he cooed, lips curved. “You really needed this, huh?”
Zeal bucked between them, hips jerking helplessly, his voice dissolving into half-sobbed moans. “Mm-ngh, please, please—!”
Kaelix chuckled low against Zeal’s ear. “Don’t worry, darling. We’ve got you.”
He shifted, sliding down Zeal’s back, kissing down the knobs of his spine, then lower. Freo paused to let him move, his hand replacing Kaelix’s for a moment—steady, firm, merciless in its rhythm. Zeal thrashed under the touch, only to feel Kaelix’s fingers parting him from behind, slick and teasing, circling but not quite pushing in yet.
“You want it here too, don’t you?” Kaelix whispered, breath hot on Zeal’s lower back. “Want to be filled up?”
Zeal’s thighs trembled. He could barely think. “Yes-, Kaelix, please—!”
Seible leaned down, licking up a bead of sweat that had gathered along Zeal’s collarbone. “So polite when you’re desperate~.” He kissed Zeal hard, teeth knocking a little, tongues tangling, messy and raw. Zeal groaned into it, melting.
Kaelix didn’t make him wait. He pushed a finger in, slow and careful, curling it just right. Zeal gasped again, back arching as the stretch hit, grounding himself against Freo’s chest.
“You’re taking me so well…” Kaelix murmured, adding another finger, scissoring slowly, watching the way Zeal’s body welcomed it with greedy need.
“Relax,” Freo said softly, thumb brushing Zeal’s lower lip as his fingers moved faster along Zeal’s cock. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Kaelix withdrew, and there was the faint sound of a condom being opened, lube slicking skin.
“Can I?” he asked, voice suddenly softer—seeking.
Zeal turned to look at him with glassy eyes. “Yes. Yes, Kaelix, please.”
Kaelix positioned himself, gripping Zeal’s hips gently as he began to push in, slow and deliberate. The stretch made Zeal whimper, forehead pressed to Seible’s shoulder now. Seible was kissing him again, slower now, fingers carding through his hair, grounding him as Kaelix filled him inch by inch.
Freo had backed off slightly, letting Zeal adjust, stroking himself with the same slow rhythm Kaelix was using to move. His gaze was dark, reverent. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered. “Completely undone.” Kaelix was moving now, slow thrusts that deepened as Zeal relaxed around him, his cries growing louder, more desperate. “Mm-ah, Kae—”
Seible grinned and reached for Zeal’s cock again, stroking him in time with Kaelix’s thrusts. “Let go for us,” he purred, “Come on, Zeal—let us see how pretty you get when you fall apart.”
Zeal didn’t last long. With a strangled cry, he came hard, spilling across Seible’s hand and his own stomach, his entire body shaking with the force of it. Kaelix cursed under his breath, fucking him through it before pulling out and finishing against Zeal’s back with a groan.
Seible wiped them both down with a smirk. “Still breathing, handsome?”
Zeal gave a shaky laugh, collapsing back into the pillows. “Barely…”
Freo crawled in beside him, kissing his temple. “That’s the idea.”
Kaelix lay on Zeal’s other side, arm slung over his waist. “You still with us, big guy?”
Zeal reached for their hands and laced his fingers with theirs. “Yeah. With you.”
The world was a haze of warmth and gentle touches, Zeal’s breath still unsteady as the aftershocks of Kaelix’s earlier rhythm pulsed through him. He’d slumped sideways into Kaelix’s chest, skin flushed and damp, sweat glistening at his temple. His shift had left him wrung out before this even started — emotionally tender, body aching in places he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying tension in.
And yet, in their arms, he was beginning to melt.
“You okay?” Kaelix murmured, brushing damp strands of silver hair out of Zeal’s face. His voice was soft, steady — the kind of voice someone could fall asleep to, if not for the subtle pulse of arousal still humming in the room.
Zeal gave the smallest nod. “Tired… but not done,” he mumbled, voice hoarse. “Just… don’t rush me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Freo said, already kneeling at Zeal’s side again. “You don’t need to move. We’ll take care of everything.”
Kaelix adjusted slightly, sitting back against the headboard and guiding Zeal with him. Zeal let himself be maneuvered, pliant in his arms, legs spread just enough to welcome Seible between them as Freo leaned in from the side, fingers ghosting along Zeal’s thigh.
Seible pressed a kiss just above Zeal’s navel. “Can we love on you a little more?” he asked, eyes shining. “Slow. Sweet. Just like this.”
Zeal nodded again. “Please…”
Freo’s fingers dipped low, brushing over Zeal’s entrance with a gentleness that made him shudder. He was already open, sensitive — Kaelix had seen to that — but Freo took his time anyway, sliding one slick finger in carefully, curling it just right.
Zeal gasped, hips twitching involuntarily.
Kaelix kissed the back of his neck, whispering low. “That’s it. Just feel.”
Seible's mouth joined next, planting kisses along the inside of Zeal’s thigh. Then higher. And higher. Until his lips were on Zeal’s length, half-hard and twitching from earlier. He didn’t take him in all at once — just used his tongue in soft, teasing licks, drawing slow circles around the head as Zeal whimpered softly into Kaelix’s collar.
“I got you,” Kaelix murmured again, hands rubbing slow circles into Zeal’s sides. “You don’t have to hold back.”
Freo added another finger, scissoring carefully, and Zeal moaned — quieter this time. The edge was softer, pleasure swelling not like a storm, but like a tide: deep, all-encompassing, but not drowning.
When Freo finally slid in — slow, measured, with a breathless sound of reverence — Kaelix was the one grounding Zeal through it. His hands stayed firm at Zeal’s waist, guiding him down gradually, letting him adjust.
“Okay?” Freo asked, voice cracking just a little with how tight Zeal felt around him.
Zeal exhaled shakily, gripping Kaelix’s arm. “Yeah. Just like that. Stay…”
Seible had shifted to straddle Zeal’s chest now, lowering himself with care. “Think you can give me your mouth, Zeal darling?” he asked, stroking Zeal’s jaw with affection. “You don’t have to go deep. Just… kiss it.”
Zeal opened his lips, and Seible groaned softly as he slid in partway, hips still, letting Zeal take him in his own time. Zeal sucked slow, unhurried — not messy or frantic, just… loving.
It was a rhythm of soft gasps and trembling sighs. Freo rocking slowly inside him, Kaelix whispering constant praise in his ear. Seible above, moaning quiet encouragements as Zeal’s mouth worked him over gently.
The whole thing felt less like fucking and more like… worship. Like each of them wanted to fill him with something deeper than just heat — with comfort. With love.
“Beautiful,” Freo breathed, speeding up just a little. “You feel so good. You're so good, Zeal.”
Kaelix kissed Zeal’s shoulder again, lips lingering. “Breathe, darling. You’re doing so well. You’re safe.”
It didn’t take long. Zeal’s body, worn out but eager to receive every bit of affection, began to tremble again. Freo shifted his angle, hitting that spot just right. Seible moaned above as Zeal’s mouth took him deeper for a moment.
Zeal whimpered around him, then gasped out as he came again — not as violently as before, but raw, honest, shaking in Kaelix’s arms.
Freo spilled inside him seconds later, voice breaking, while Seible came against Zeal’s tongue with a soft curse, fingers in his hair.
And then, quiet. Breathless, buzzing quiet.
Kaelix held Zeal close, arms wrapped securely around his chest as he kissed the top of his head. Seible slid off with a happy sigh, brushing Zeal’s hair back. Freo eased out carefully, then pressed his lips to Zeal’s lower back.
“Too much?” Kaelix asked softly.
Zeal shook his head, boneless and warm. “No. Perfect.”
They didn’t say much after that. Just cleaned him up gently, wiped him down, and crawled into the nest of blankets around him.
Kaelix spooned him from behind, chest to his back. Seible curled up against his front, nuzzling close. Freo slipped in between them, looping his fingers with Zeal’s.
In the quiet, someone whispered, “We’ll stay with you.” And Zeal, already drifting off, smiled faintly.
“I know.”
…
The room had gone quiet, save for the soft hum of the night outside the window and the lingering thrum of breathing — slow, steady, syncing up.
Zeal was nestled in the crook of Kaelix’s arm, legs tangled loosely in the sheet, body heavy and spent in the best possible way. Every inch of him ached, not painfully, but in that sweet, stretched-out kind of way that told him he’d been held, touched, adored. Cherished.
“You with us, Zeal?” Kaelix murmured against his temple, brushing his hair back gently.
Zeal made a noise somewhere between a hum and a sigh. “Mmm. Floating.”
Kaelix chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Good. Stay there a while.”
Across the bed, Seible had curled up, watching him with soft, sleepy eyes, his fingers lazily drawing circles over Zeal’s chest. “You looked so pretty like that,” he whispered, voice barely there. “Didn’t wanna let go.”
Zeal smiled weakly, too tired to tease. “You didn’t. That’s the point.”
A warm cloth pressed between his legs — gentle, careful. Freo had returned from the bathroom with towels and water, always the most practical after a long night. His eyes were focused, but his touch was impossibly tender.
“Sorry if this stings,” he said quietly. “You okay?”
“Mmhm,” Zeal murmured. “Feels nice. You’re warm, Freo.”
Kaelix helped shift him slightly so Freo could finish wiping him down, all without jostling or rushing. His fingers laced with Zeal’s during it, grounding him. Freo paused to kiss the inside of his knee, almost reverent.
Then, once Zeal was dry and freshly tucked into clean sheets, Freo climbed back in, sitting beside the bed just for a moment longer.
“You were incredible,” he said simply. “You gave us so much. Let us love you that much. Thank you.”
Zeal blinked slowly, heart twisting at the earnestness in his voice. “You didn’t take anything from me,” he murmured. “You… gave it back.”
Seible let out a quiet noise, scooting closer to press his face into Zeal’s neck. “I’m gonna cry. That’s not fair, Gin-chan.”
Kaelix snorted softly. “Too late. He’s already in his emotionally soft era.”
Zeal managed a tired chuckle. “Don’t ‘era’ me.”
They piled around him after that — Freo wrapping an arm around Zeal’s waist from behind, Kaelix resting a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat, Seible curled up like a cat over one of his thighs. Someone — Seible, probably — tucked a plush between their arms. A monkey plush, Zeal realized, from Kaelix’s collection. Familiar, silly and comforting. It smelled like his room. It smelled like all of them.
“…What time is it?” Zeal mumbled.
“Too late to care,” Kaelix answered, lips brushing his temple.
“You don’t have to get up today,” Freo added.
“I’ll make sure you don’t,” Seible declared.
Zeal exhaled long and slow. “Good. I’m not leaving.”
The bed creaked slightly as they shifted closer, arms overlapping. Skin on skin, heartbeat on heartbeat. Kaelix pulled the blanket higher over their shoulders. “You’re home, Zeal, with us and safer food too!”
Zeal rolled his eyes and smiled. “Whatever you say, my silly boys…”
He kissed each of their temples softly—gentle, grateful.
And decided, maybe...
He could give up questionable leftovers after all.
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