Archive of Our Own

It’s Jisung’s idea, because of course it is. 

They’re all relaxing at Chan and Jeongin’s after weeks of promotions, taking advantage of an evening to themselves. Chan is stretched out on the big perpendicular couch with Jeongin’s head in his lap, Felix and Jisung snuggled together next to him. Seungmin is sharing one of the large, squashy armchairs with Changbin but pretending like he isn’t, even though his legs are thrown across Changbin’s thighs and Changbin is petting him absently on the back of the head as he scrolls through his phone. Hyunjin is tucked in a mountain of pillows in the other armchair next to them, and Minho is sprawled in a beanbag opposite Chan, lazy and indulgent. 

They’re all relaxed, mellow. Enjoying a job well done. 

Then Jisung sighs, looks around at them all, and says, 

“This is boring. Let’s play a game.” 

“It isn’t boring, jagi, you’re just not used to having nothing to do,” Minho says gently from his beanbag.

Jisung sniffs. “Still. Let’s do something.” His eyes brighten, a devilish little spark. “Let’s play truth or dare.” 

Chan chuckles, playing absently with a loose lock of Jeongin’s hair. “Really?” 

Jisung pouts. “Hyung. Really. Amuse me.” 

“Amuse yourself, hyung,” Jeongin mumbles. When he speaks, the vibrations of his throat tingle pleasantly against the top of Chan’s thigh. He strokes a hand through Jeongin’s hair again, luxuriating in the feel of it. 

Jisung scowls at him. “Fine, I will. There’s apps for these things - I’m going to find one.”

It occurs to Chan that he should probably head Jisung off before he starts too much trouble. But Jeongin is sleepy in his lap, and Felix is warm and soft against his side, and he feels pliant enough that it probably doesn’t matter too much. Jisung’s just working out his nervous energy - he’ll get distracted soon.

For a few minutes, they’re all quiet, absorbed in their own phones or halfway to dozing. 

Then, Jisung makes a triumphant sound. “Got one.” 

He taps a few more times on his screen, then declares, “Channie-hyung.” 

Oh god. 

Chan clears his throat. “Yes, baby?” 

Jisung levels an evil grin at him. “When was the last time you jerked off?” 

Chan splutters, his hand stilling in Jeongin’s hair. Changbin barks out a laugh and Hyunjin makes a dramatic Ooooo sound, twisting around to study Chan. 

“I - you - what?” Chan manages to get out. 

“It’s a truth question, hyung,” Jisung insists. “You have to answer.” He squints at his phone. “Technically, it says ‘when was the last time you masturbated’, but I’m not saying it like that. Feels too weird.” 

“There’s no way that’s actually a question, Hannie,” Felix says lazily. 

He makes a grab for Jisung’s phone. Jisung squawks and bats him away, but entwined as they are, it’s easy for Felix to get an arm around his neck and pin him down, snatching at the phone with his free hand. 

Resigned to their squabbling, Chan shifts to give them room on the couch. Jeongin squirms his head around in Chan’s lap to stare at them, raising an eyebrow. 

Finally emerging with Jisung’s phone, Felix frowns down at the screen, but then his expression changes to one of surprised amusement. 

“You put it on Extra Spicy? What even is this app, baby?” 

Jisung sniffs and snatches his phone back. “It’s one of the question categories. I wanted to see what the options were.” 

He twists around in Felix’s half-headlock until he can stare at Chan again. 

“Come on, hyung,” he wheedles. “Play with me.”

Chan feels his ears start to glow red, little prickles of heat dancing across his skin. In his lap, Jeongin is staring up at him, his lips parted. When he looks around, the others are watching him too, and they all look at least slightly interested. 

Fuck. He’s never been able to say no to them. 

“Uh… maybe last week? Last Friday?” he answers. He’s blushing terribly - he can feel it on his face. Changbin gives him a teasing wolf-whistle and Jisung grins triumphantly. 

Felix raises an eyebrow. “Really? That long?” 

“Yeah, well, we’ve been busy.” Chan looks down, flustered, and is immediately met with Jeongin’s dark eyes. 

“Was I home, hyung?” Jeongin murmurs. 

Chan flushes harder. “No. You were out.” 

“Hmm.” Jeongin’s eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. “Pity.” 

“Innie, baby, don’t torture him,” Hyunjin says, but he’s a little too gleeful to properly sell the reprimand. “This is good, Sungie, I’ve changed my mind. Keep going.” 

There’s a murmur of agreement around the room. Minho has sat up in his beanbag, and Seungmin has stopped poking at Changbin’s biceps to tilt his head towards Jisung in interest. 

Jisung cackles. “Alright. Hyung, it’s your turn. You answered, so you get to pick someone to go next.”

Oh god. 

Is this a terrible idea? Maybe. They’ve all seen each other in varying stages of nakedness over the last few weeks - the product of Felix finally breaking the tension that’s been threaded through their group for months by slamming his bucket of popcorn down on one of their movie nights and declaring, This is stupid. Who wants to make out? 

As it turns out, all of them did. 

But even so, it’s a far cry to go from quick, heated kisses and the occasional handjob in between recording demos to… whatever this is. 

Hyunjin takes over, sensing his hesitation. 

“I’ll go next, Jisungie. He’s too nice to throw someone under the bus.” 

Chan shoots him a grateful look, but Hyunjin raises an eyebrow at him. 

“You can make it up to me later, hyung,” he croons. 

Chan blushes and nods. 

He’s still a little hesitant. But Hyunjin has volunteered - and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about what the other questions are. If Jisung has put the app on Extra Spicy, ridiculous as it sounds, he might learn a thing or two about his members. About what they like to do. What they like having done to them. 

He swallows hard, but eagerness is starting to overtake the nerves. 

“Truth or dare, Hyunjinnie?” Jisung singsongs, his thumb hovering menacingly over his phone.

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but despite his bravado, he’s clearly a little flustered, fidgeting with the edge of a cushion. “Truth, I guess.” 

Jisung taps the screen and grins. “Have you ever worn lingerie to bed? I’m gonna assume that means sex bed, not bed bed. Although either is fine.” He slides his eyes teasingly up and down Hyunjin’s body. 

Hyunjin turns bright red. “I -” 

“Yes,” Changbin says from his armchair. 

Hyunjin screeches and leans over to smack Changbin on the arm, even as the room dissolves into laughter. Chan can’t help joining in - the indignant look on Hyunjin’s face is priceless, almost enough to mellow the spike of interest that thrums through him at Changbin’s answer. 

Changbin’s laughing too, catching Hyunjin’s hand mid-strike to kiss the back of his knuckles. 

“Sorry, baby,” he says earnestly. “But it’s truth or dare, you know. You have to be honest.” 

Hyunjin pulls his hand back and swats him again, but he’s smiling grudgingly too. 

“What kind of lingerie, Hyunjinnie?” Felix asks, interested. 

Hyunjin rearranges himself primly back into his pile of pillows. “That wasn’t the question, Felix.”

Felix pouts and looks over to Changbin, who winks at him. 

“We’ll talk later, Lix,” he says. 

Hyunjin hisses at him again, but his grudging smile has widened into a sheepish grin. 

“Good to know, Hyunjin-ah,” Minho murmurs. 

“Oh god.” Hyunjin covers his face with one hand. “Please, someone, go next.” 

“You can pick, baby, since you had a turn,” Jisung answers. “Make it fair.” 

Hyunjin lowers his hand, a devilish grin spreading over his face.

“Changbinnie-hyung,” he says smugly. “Since you’re so keen to participate, you go next.” 

Changbin sighs and pets Hyunjin’s arm where it’s resting on the side of his chair. “Alright, honey. Truth, too, I guess.”

Jisung taps his phone and snickers. “What’s the easiest way to make you come?”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Felix says, perking up. Jeongin, too, has turned his head in Chan’s lap to focus on Changbin, interested. Chan traces a fingertip over the delicate curve of his ear and gets a shiver in response. He grins. 

Meanwhile, Changbin bites his bottom lip. “What does it mean? Like, fastest? Or what I like the most, or…” 

“Let’s go with what you like the most,” Jisung decides. “Something that if we do it, it’d make you crazy.” 

Changbin digs his heels into the carpet to force himself further into his chair, like he’s trying to bury himself among the cushions. He looks flustered at having all their attention on him, a pale pink  flush spreading from his cheeks down to his throat. But there’s something else in his expression too - something solid, anticipatory. 

He’s thought of something already. Chan can tell. And while he’s never previously thought of asking Changbin such a question himself, suddenly, he needs to know the answer to it. 

“Come on, hyung,” Hyunjin coos. “You said we have to answer.” 

Changbin shoots him a narrow-eyed look and finally exhales. 

“Plug,” he mumbles. 

Fucking hell. 

Jisung’s eyes widen, and Jeongin makes a soft little sound. 

Hyunjin leans in, eager. “What was that, hyung?” 

Changbin swats at him, but he speaks again, clearer. 

“Use a plug,” he says. “While you’re - while you’re sucking me.” 

“Oh, Changbinnie,” Minho says softly, reverently. “We’re going to talk about this later, honey.” 

Changbin’s cheeks are glowing.  

“Felix!” he says loudly, diverting. “You go next.” 

Felix runs the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip. “I don’t know, hyung, I’d rather hear more about you.” 

His voice has sunk even lower than normal, a rough rumble that strokes over Chan’s senses. The intensity in his face is enough to make Chan’s knees feel weak and Felix isn’t even looking at him - he’s focused on Changbin, on the spots of pink still visible on his cheeks. 

Changbin shoots Felix a pleading look, and Felix relents. 

“Oh, alright. I’ll go with dare, since none of you have yet.” 

Jisung makes a victorious sound. “Knew I could count on you, baby. Let’s get things interesting.” 

He taps the screen a few times, and his smile widens into a smirk. 

“Oh, Lix,” he says. “You’re gonna have to kneel down for this one, baby.” 

Jeongin barks out a laugh, scrabbling up from Chan’s lap. “What?” 

Jisung turns the screen around so they can all read. 

Undo the pants of the person next to you without using your hands. 

Chan doesn’t know whether to laugh or whimper. 

Next to him, Jeongin has made it into a fully seated position and is leaning forward, eyes intent. 

“How does it mean?” 

“With my mouth, Iyennie,” Felix answers, somehow perfectly relaxed. “With my teeth. I can do it. It doesn’t look hard. Stand up, Sungie.”  

There’s a series of shuffles as Felix peels himself from Jisung’s lap and Jisung stands up in front of them all, grinning and bright red. He smooths his palms down his pants, removing the wrinkles, and Chan’s heart squeezes in fondness even as darker, hungrier emotions thrash beneath the surface. 

Around him, he can see the others scrambling to watch too - Hyunjin has propped another pillow behind his head to give himself a better vantage point, and Seungmin has cocked his head towards Felix like a wolf sizing up a meal. 

Once everyone’s settled, Felix casts a glance around the room. Even from a slight distance, Chan can see the smirk in his eyes. 

“Everyone comfortable?” 

“Get on with it, hyung.” Jeongin sounds intent, hungry. 

Felix chuckles. 

And then, in front of all of them, he sinks down to his knees before Jisung. 

Chan’s cock has already started to fill out in interest just from the single movement. He refuses to be embarrassed about how easily his members can rile him up - it’s not irrational, it’s just proof he has common sense. But then Felix takes it one step further - of course he does. He always does. 

He links his slim fingers behind his back and parts his lips, so that just the tip of his tongue peeks out. 

“Come on, Sungie,” he says softly. “Let me see.” 

Chan makes a sound he has never, ever heard himself make before. Felix shoots him a sideways smirk before focusing back up on Jisung, his dark eyes wide and innocent. 

Jisung places a hand over his face with a muffled groan, but widens his stance slightly. At this height, Felix’s eyes are just about level with Jisung’s lower stomach. And his mouth is level with… 

Another completely involuntary sound bubbles up within Chan. He stifles it as best he can, but he fears he’s not very successful. 

Everyone seems to hold their breath as Felix leans in, nuzzles lightly at the fabric over Jisung’s crotch with the tip of his nose. He works his way up and down for a while, long enough that Jisung starts to squirm against him, dropping the hand that’s covering his face. 

“Lix,” Jisung whispers, breathless. “Don’t tease.” 

“I’m just strategising, baby,” Felix answers. He would be the picture of innocence were it not for the smile he’s pressing into Jisung’s upper thigh. “You try doing this with no hands.” 

Jisung makes a little whimpering sound. 

Felix seems to take even longer, then - drawing it out into a show, a performance. Chan knows Felix likes to tease, but every time, he’s struck anew by how good he is at it. The entire room is rapt, bated breath. He can feel their attention like electricity, currents entwined. Connected to every single one of Felix’s movements like he’s a conductor. Or a lightning storm. 

An agonising minute passes by. 

And then, finally, Felix pinches Jisung’s zipper between his teeth and starts to draw it down. 

In the hungry silence of the room, the rasp of the metal is loud enough to echo like a gunshot. Behind him, Chan hears someone - maybe Changbin - hiss a breath. 

 Felix makes it all the way to the bottom before Jisung makes another sound - a little whine. The noise makes Felix grin, and Chan watches, his mouth dry, as Felix nuzzles his nose into the gap he’s created in Jisung’s pants. 

Jisung rocks forward with a squeak. 

“Lix.” 

Felix pulls back, smugness oozing from him. “Too easy, baby.” 

The words seem to break some kind of spell. Chan closes his mouth - when had he opened it? - and senses the other members shaking themselves out of their reveries too, coming back down to earth. The animal part of his brain wants Felix to go further - to undress Jisung fully, maybe, while they all watch - but Jisung’s clearly flustered by all the attention on him and he drops back onto the couch, loudly clearing his throat.

“Alright. Alright. Next! Someone go next!” 

His voice is a little higher than normal, flustered. It’s so fucking cute. 

“Minho-hyung,” Felix says, lazy and relaxed as he rises from his knees and sinks back onto the couch. “You go next.” 

Across from them, Minho gives him a slow, knowing smile. 

“Alright, Yongbokkie. Dare as well.” 

Jisung taps the screen, his cheeks still tinged red. Then, his eyes widen. 

“Oh my god.” 

Oh no. 

Something worse than Felix and Jisung’s little strip tease is coming, Chan can feel it. His nerves worsen further when Jisung looks first to Minho and then to turns to him, as if evaluating something. 

He’s proven right a moment later when Jisung turns his phone around and they all get to read the words, stark and bright against the screen like a brand or a condemnation.  

Give the player opposite you a lap dance.

Fuck. 

Chan looks helplessly across to Minho. 

Minho’s face is carefully blank, but Chan knows him well enough to see the calculations going on below the surface. He’s thinking it through, analysing his options. 

He’s strategising, but he certainly doesn’t look opposed to the idea. 

Chan doesn’t know whether that makes him excited or terrified. 

Finally, Minho clicks his tongue and stands up from his beanbag. 

“Alright. No one can say Yongbokkie did his dare and I didn’t. Someone put some music on, though - I’m not doing this with just you all breathing all over us.” 

Jisung crows in excitement, even as Seungmin raises a surprised eyebrow. Jeongin shifts to give Chan more room on the couch, and Felix and Jisung both wriggle their way to the edge for a better view as well. As Minho approaches Chan, Changbin taps the screen of his phone, grinning, and the chords of something low and bass-heavy fill the room, dark and sweet and sultry. 

And before Chan can get enough of a grip on himself to even attempt to be normal about this, Minho sinks into his lap and puts his palms on Chan’s shoulders. 

The touch of his skin shocks like a brand, hot and sudden. Chan feels closed-in, tethered. He feels like he’s at Minho’s mercy. 

He looks up and into Minho’s dark eyes, and the smirk he finds there nearly makes him groan.

Minho seems to sense his dilemma. He grins down at Chan, then takes Chan’s wrists and lightly guides his hands until they’re resting on Minho’s waist. 

“Just hold on, hyung, alright?” he whispers. The words are a soft echo - just between the two of them. 

Chan nods. He’s staring up at Minho’s mouth - he can’t help it. Minho’s bottom lip is slightly swollen, shiny-red. Chan wants to bite it. 

As the chords of music swell around them, Minho starts to move. 

He starts with slow, small movements, but even that’s enough to have Chan hissing with sensation. Minho’s skin is hot under his palms, even through his T-shirt, and the way he’s sitting stretches the fabric of his pants over his thighs in a way that’s truly obscene. 

Minho’s teasing him, but he’s also a dancer, so he’s following the beat perfectly, circling his hips and shifting his shoulders and spine along to the rhythm. Chan feels his heartbeat start to pick up, matching the pace of the song. Right on the first bass drop, Minho grinds forward and down for the first time, and the instant friction against Chan’s cock startles a moan out of him. His fingers dig into Minho’s waist, helpless. 

“Fuck,” he hears someone whisper. “Hyung’s so good at this.” 

This close, Minho’s answering grin is almost blinding. 

He circles his hips again, teasing pressure against Chan’s cock. Chan swallows, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, what to do with his body. Years of idol training, of learning how to move both in the spotlight and out, and all it takes is Minho in his lap for him to lose any sense of coordination he might have had. 

But his stillness makes Minho pout, lower lip sticking out, even fuller and more tempting than usual. 

“Come on, hyung,” he whispers. “Show me you want it. Give me something to work with.” 

“Minho,” Chan grinds out, distantly aware that his voice has dropped lower than he’s ever heard before. “Baby, please.” 

It’s not really an answer, but Minho still winks at him. “That’s better.”

The song swells into the second chorus, and Minho grinds his hips forwards, backwards. He’s - he’s riding Chan, or at least it feels like he is, and they haven’t done this together yet, but suddenly Chan is desperate to find a room with a bed. Hell, he’ll let Minho take his pants off right here if he wants to. His heartbeat is rising in his ears, a steady thump-thump of desperation, and every movement of Minho’s hips pushes him nearer to the edge. 

Minho is grinding harder in his lap now, circling his hips like he has something to prove. Both of Chan’s hands have somehow ended up on Minho’s ass - when did that happen? - and he’s holding on for dear life, bruising fingerprints into Minho’s skin. Distantly, Chan registers the chords of the song fading away, and someone’s voice commenting dryly that the song’s over, hyungs, but he can’t force his fingers to unlock. 

Minho’s rhythm has started to quicken, his breath coming in short little pants. When Chan squeezes his ass, desperate, he groans - a tiny sound, barely more than a breath of air. 

“Hyung.” 

“I know.” Chan’s a little breathless himself. “I know, baby.” 

A sharp clap startles them both out of their reverie. Minho freezes in Chan’s lap and Chan jerks his gaze to the side, finding Jeongin grinning at them like a demon.

“That’s time, hyungs,” he teases. “Someone else’s turn now.” 

Almost without his permission, Chan feels his fingers dig harder into Minho’s ass in silent protest. Minho makes another quiet, low sound and rocks forward slightly, and Jeongin raises an eyebrow. 

“Come on, hyung,” he says lazily. “You’ll ruin Jisung-hyung’s game if you get too distracted.”

He leans heavily into the emphasis of the last word, still grinning, and Chan blushes. But as Minho stills in his lap again, he notices that for all his teasing, Jeongin is a little flushed too, and there’s a definite bulge at the front of his pants. A quick glance around the room confirms that the other members are watching them avidly too - Changbin has leaned forward in his armchair, one hand gripping Seungmin’s thigh hard. Next to them, Hyunjin has his legs spread in a position that would look relaxed were it not for the fact that his hand is resting over his crotch, the heel of his palm pressing down. On the other side of the couch, Jisung has a death grip on Felix’s arm, and Felix is looking at them like he wants to eat them. 

Their attention - their want - is as gratifying as it is taunting. They want Minho to go further, Chan can tell. But at the same time, Jisung’s still holding his phone, and the idea of it - of what else might be in store - has Chan reluctantly pulling his hands back. 

“Fine,” he exhales. “Who’s next?”

Minho makes a low grumbling sound, but he climbs off Chan’s lap. As he rises, Chan sees the outline of his cock through his sweatpants, and for a moment, he nearly yanks Minho back down to trace that outline with his tongue. He just barely manages to cling to his self control, and Minho flops back into his beanbag. 

“Fine.” Minho echoes, and the smile he levels at Seungmin is all pointed teeth and menace. “You go next, Kim Seungmin. Make sure to give us something good.” 

Seungmin purses his lips at Minho like he’s going to stick his tongue out, but seems to think better of it at the last minute. He shrugs. 

“Alright. Dare, Jisungie.” 

Jisung grins and taps the phone. Then, immediately, he claps a hand to his mouth. 

“Holy shit.” 

“What?” Seungmin’s expression morphs into something approaching alarm. “What is it?”

Jisung lowers his hand and opens his mouth. Closes it again. Shakes his head. A slightly crazed grin spreads over his face. 

“Give the person who took the previous turn a massage.”

He leans into the emphasis of massage in a way that makes Chan’s mouth go dry. Shock and amusement and eagerness spiral through him, dizzying in their intensity. 

All around the room, there’s a round of crowing that makes Minho and Seungmin both glare, and Chan would be intimidated were it not for the laugh that bubbles up inside him at how identical the expressions are. 

“An actual massage?” Seungmin asks. It’s clear he’s trying to sound unaffected, but his eyes keep darting to Minho, curled in his beanbag. 

“However you want to touch hyung, Seungminnie,” Jisung teases. 

Seungmin hisses a breath through clenched teeth. 

“Too scared to touch me, Kim Seungmin?” Minho murmurs. Seungmin jerks his gaze up to Minho’s, and Chan watches, breathless, as their eyes lock and hold. The moment thickens, lengthens. Chan’s heartbeat swells in his ears, a counterpoint to the breathing of his members around him. He knows them all well enough to hear the anticipation - the eagerness - in the sound. 

Seungmin breaks the silence first. “I’m not scared of you. Lie down, hyung,” 

“Fuck yes,” Chan hears Felix mumble next to him. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had, Jisungie.” 

Jisung preens. Minho grudgingly rises out of his beanbag and sprawls on his stomach on the carpet, propping his head on his crossed arms. 

“Get on with it, Seungminnie,” he says. 

Seungmin clicks his tongue, but there’s something else in his expression - something careful, calculating. It’s the sort of look that sends simultaneous pangs of want and warning through Chan. 

Seungmin’s planning something. He can feel it. 

Seungmin approaches Minho, lying on the carpet, and without any ceremony, he straddles Minho’s waist, perching himself right in the dip of Minho’s lower back. 

Minho grunts under his slight weight. “Not very relaxing so far.” 

“Shhh, hyung,” Seungmin mutters. “Stay still.” 

Minho’s shoulders shift like he might turn over and reprimand Seungmin for the cheek, but before he can, Seungmin places his palms on Minho’s biceps and presses down. His fingers dig in, first gently, then hard enough that Chan can see the indents in the firm lines of muscle. 

Whatever Minho was about to snap at Seungmin turns into a low, rough, approving groan. 

Chan’s sitting at just the right angle to catch Seungmin’s answering smile. 

Seungmin takes his time, moving his hands in unhurried sweeps over Minho’s back and arms. Chan feels some of the anticipatory tension threading through his body lessen as the minutes drip by. Seungmin is touching Minho, but he’s not really touching him - at least not in the way the glint in his eye had seemed to suggest. 

Only once does Seungmin stray from relatively safe territory - to grip the back of Minho’s neck hard with his palm, long fingers digging in on either side of his throat. 

Minho chuffs a surprised breath, squirming, but Seungmin’s fingers just dig in harder. He looks up - not to Chan, but strangely, to Felix. The two of them share a look so loaded with meaning that it makes Chan’s mouth go dry. 

He doesn’t want to know what that look means, but he also desperately does. 

Seungmin releases Minho suddenly and shifts his weight backwards, moving to straddle Minho’s thighs. His hands drop down, and Chan nearly swallows his tongue as Seungmin’s thin, pale fingers dig sudden and hard into Minho’s ass. 

Minho jolts forward with a hiss. “Kim Seungmin.”

“Part of the massage, hyung,” Seungmin responds in a murmur. 

He flexes his fingers, presses down. He’s pushing hard enough that Minho is moving slightly with the movement. Not far, or fast - he can’t get anywhere with Seungmin’s weight on his legs - but enough that his hips are moving in a tiny, barely-there drag against the carpet. 

Oh. Oh. 

Seungmin presses and pulls for a minute that feels like both a second and an eternity. Then, he’s shifting again, rising up onto his knees. 

“Turn over, hyung,” he murmurs. “Massages should be full-body.”

Minho peeks out from his crossed arms, and Chan nearly groans. For all Minho’s supposed aloofness, his cheeks are bright red, a light sheen of sweat visible along the side of his throat. When he turns over, Chan can’t help looking down - and sure enough, his cock is filling out further, visible through his pants. Chan’s jaw aches. 

Seungmin, surprisingly, doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he settles himself on Minho’s thighs and resumes his slow process of stroking over his skin. 

His hands follow Minho’s arms, digging lightly into his wrists, his biceps, his shoulders. It’s clear that he actually is massaging him, at least a little - Chan wonders if he’s taken lessons from Felix in their time living together. But Seungmin is never one to let an opportunity pass him by, and as Chan watches, the path of his fingers changes, dragging over Minho’s chest. His palms, then his thumbs, circle lazily over Minho’s nipples through his shirt - once, twice, three times. 

Beneath him, Minho’s started to squirm. 

“Seungminnie.” 

“Hmmm?” Seungmin doesn’t look up, attention focused on his own hands where they’re still touching Minho over his clothes. 

Minho reddens - indignation and something else, something more urgent. 

“Seungmin,” he says, sharper. “This isn’t - you’re not -” 

“I’m massaging you, hyung,” Seungmin says levelly. “I’m following my dare.” 

“Right.” Minho’s voice is dry, a little raspy. 

Seungmin’s hands slide further down - over Minho’s ribs, his stomach. When he reaches the waistband of Minho’s pants, he pauses, adjusting to grip Minho’s hips. His thumbs slide carefully under Minho’s clothes - first stroking up, then down. He dips below Minho’s waistband, following the delicate skin just inside the dip of his hipbone. 

Beneath him, Minho makes a tiny, stifled little groan. Chan hears Felix mumble a soft curse. 

Seungmin leans down, seemingly to inspect where his hands are, but Chan’s sitting just close enough to hear his whisper. 

“So needy, hyung. First you have to ride Chan-hyung and then you have to lie still while I touch you in front of everyone, but you can’t get off? You must be dying.” 

Minho’s answer should have been acidic, but instead, it comes out a little desperate. 

“Fuck you, Kim Seungmin.” 

“Hmmm,” Seungmin smirks. “Not yet.”

And with that, he pulls back, shaking his fringe away from his eyes. 

“I’m done,” he declares. “Dare’s finished.” 

He climbs off Minho and dusts his hands off casually, dropping back into the armchair he’s been sharing with Changbin. Minho stays on the floor for a bare moment, biting his lip, and Jisung makes an incredulous sound. 

“You’re hard, hyung.” His voice is low, raspy. Eager. 

Minho shoots him a sideways glare. 

“You go next, Jisungie,” he says by way of an answer. 

Jisung pouts. His cheeks are flushed, his lower lip rosy-red from where he’d been biting on it. He keeps looking down to Minho’s chest, and then at Seungmin’s fingers. 

Finally, he gets a grip on himself and taps his phone screen again. His eyes widen. 

After a beat, he says, 

“I picked truth. It’s, uh… what’s my favourite sex act to receive?”

Chan perks up, his interest redirected. Minho, too, sits up abruptly. 

Jisung bites his lip, looking torn. “I-” 

“Don’t say blowjob, Hannie,” Hyunjin says lazily. “That’s too easy.” 

Jisung reddens further, his eyes bright. “I wasn’t going to. Actually, it’s… it’s being eaten out.” 

Oh. 

Jisung has been eaten out? 

Jisung has been eaten out and it’s his favourite thing to do? 

Chan’s never done that before - never had it done to him, either. Not for lack of desire - living and working in this group, he’d have to be stupid not to think about it, not to want it. He’s seen Changbin’s ass in tight leather, seen Hyunjin’s hips move. He’s felt Minho’s fingers curve in just a little too close when he grabs Chan’s ass on stage.

Yeah, he’s thought about it. 

But Jisung has done it. Done it, and likes it - enough to have him pink and squirming as they all stare at him, mouths open and eyes hungry. 

They’re all thinking about it now, Chan can tell. Flipping Jisung over and tugging his pants off and seeing what kinds of sounds he makes when his favourite thing is done to him. 

“Jisungie, jagi-ah,” Minho rasps. “Why don’t you ask for it?” 

So Minho hasn’t done it to him either. That probably means that none of them have. 

A sharp, bitter pang of possessiveness jolts through Chan, startling in its intensity. Even though he knows they’ve all been hooking up only a few weeks, and that almost none of them were virgins before they started, the idea of Jisung with anyone else is a sour tang in his mouth. 

Jisung is theirs. They all belong to each other. 

Before the jealousy can turn too thick, Chan manages to get a handle on his rationality - register that Jisung is glowing even redder, biting his lip. He’s so fucking cute. Chan feels like he’s going insane.

 “It’s not exactly the sort of thing you ask for straight away, hyung,” Jisung whines, defensive. “And I didn’t know if you - if you’d all want to -” 

He breaks off. 

“Jisungie,” Changbin says seriously. “I want you to listen to me very carefully. Next time we’re in the studio, we’re doing that. You’re going to bend over the desk for me and tell me exactly how you want it, and then I’m going to fuck you like that.” 

Chan inhales a sharp breath, hears Felix and Hyunjin both moan. 

Jisung relaxes under the intensity of Changbin’s stare, softening and submissive. “You mean - just you and me?” 

Changbin doesn’t even glance at the rest of them. He holds Jisung’s gaze. 

“I don’t care who else is there. They can watch, if they want. Have you afterwards. But I’m having you first.” 

Fuck. 

Jisung swallows, nods meekly. “Yes, hyung.” 

“Good.” Changbin doesn’t blink. His eyes drop down to Jisung’s phone. “Who’s next, baby?” 

Jisung flounders, clearly caught off guard. His eyes bounce around the room, finally landing on Jeongin, curled up on the couch. 

“Innie,” he manages. “It’s your turn.” 

Jeongin doesn’t miss a beat. “Truth.” 

Another tap of the screen. Jisung swallows. 

“Where is your favourite place to be touched?” 

God. 

Jeongin pulls his lip between his teeth, considering. With every question, Chan feels himself dissolve further into the urgent heat swelling within him, but this question is also genuinely intriguing. He thinks back to his times with Jeongin in their apartment - times when it was just the two of them. Times when Jeongin melted underneath him, called him Channie-hyung in this soft, shivering, needy little voice. 

Chan swallows hard.

He thinks he knows Jeongin’s answer, but he’s curious to see if he’s correct.

“Aside from the obvious…” Jeongin trails off. He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “Back of the neck. Kisses, touches - anything.” 

A tiny thrill of victory spikes through Chan. He remembers the first time he’d discovered that spot. The way he’d pressed a kiss to it while Jeongin was cutting vegetables for dinner, intending nothing more than a simple peck of affection. 

The way Jeongin had sagged against the countertop and fucking whimpered at the touch of Chan’s mouth. 

Chan grits his teeth. Before he can help himself, he rolls his palm against his clothed dick, once, twice. 

Fuck. He’s so hard that the barely-there pressure feels electric, sudden. Shattering. 

“Like a puppy, Innie?” Felix murmurs. “Like Seungminnie.” His dark eyes dart to Seungmin, sharp, teasing. Seungmin makes a low, rough sound.  

“Felix.” 

“What, Minnie?” Felix croons. 

Seungmin’s eyes lock with Felix’s across the room. 

“Careful.” 

Felix pulls his lower lip between his teeth. 

“What if I don’t want to be?” he murmurs. 

There isn’t enough fucking air in this room. Chan grinds his hand down again, again. He can feel himself leaking into his underwear - feel the atmosphere thickening around him. He doesn’t know whether this was the intended consequence of Jisung’s game or not, but fuck it - he’s only human. 

Minho notices first. 

“Oh, hyung,” he whispers. Gently, affectionately mocking. “So easy. Insatiable.” 

Chan can’t help the whimper that squeaks out of him.

But before he can dissolve too far into the feeling, a harsh click of Felix’s tongue makes him startle. He jerks his gaze to the side and finds Felix staring across the couch at him. The scant distance between them vibrates under the heat of his gaze.

“We’re still playing, hyung.” The dancer’s voice is a whisper, a reprimand, a croon. “Don’t get distracted.”

Chan fights to still his movements, hyper-aware of the force of Felix’s dark eyes. He feels like he’s burning up, dissolving, disappearing. He feels like he’s on the edge of a cliff and like he’s already fallen.

There’s only one answer, though. There always has been. 

“Alright, baby.” The words come out rough - a little strangled. 

From the armchairs opposite them, Changbin exhales, a long, slow sound. 

“So good for Yongbokkie, hyung,” he murmurs. “Are you always like this with him?” 

Yes. 

He doesn’t even have to say it. They all know it. He’s putty in Felix’s hands - in all of their hands. 

“Hyunjin-hyung,” Jeongin says. “Your turn.” 

The redirection brings some of Chan’s awareness back. He regains enough of himself to see that Hyunjin is blushing, excited - anticipatory. 

“Dare, Jisungie,” he says in a rasp. From the beanbag next to him, Minho traces a slow, proprietary hand down Hyunjin’s arm. 

Jisung taps his screen again, then immediately coos. His eyes are sparkling. 

“This one suits you, Hyunjinnie. Model an outfit you’ve worn to bed.” 

Fucking hell. 

Chan darts a glance around the room and knows immediately that they’re all thinking the same thing. 

Have you ever worn lingerie to bed? 

Yes. 

Hyunjin squirms in his pile of pillows. 

“Jisungie,” he whines.

“You don’t have to, honey,” Chan hurries to reassure him, some of the syrupy-slow feeling in his blood dissipating in the face of Hyunjin’s nerves. “Not if you don’t want to. It’s just a game.” 

“You do -” Felix begins, obviously teasing, but Chan clicks his tongue at him and he subsides, grinning. 

Hyunjin looks around the room, staring at them all in turn. His throat works as he swallows. 

Finally, softly, he says, 

“No, it’s alright. I want to. Just… don’t laugh, alright?” 

Chan nearly laughs at that - the absurdity that any of them could see Hyunjin in lingerie and do anything other than get on their knees before him. 

Hyunjin rises to his feet, smoothing the wrinkles in his pants with a slightly shaky hand. 

“You need to go home, baby?” Jisung asks, looking eager. 

On the armchair, Chan sees Changbin smirk. 

Oh. 

Hyunjin shakes his head. “Give me two minutes.” 

He leans over and grabs his bag, then disappears down the hallway to the bathroom. 

He isn’t - he couldn’t - 

“He has something now?” Jisung demands. “He brought it with him? Did he know I was going to ask this?”

Changbin shakes his head, places a finger to his own lips. “Shush, baby. Don’t make him self-conscious.” 

Chan feels light-headed. Hyunjin is changing into lingerie in his bathroom. Lingerie that he has apparently worn to bed before. Lingerie that Changbin knows about, which means they’ve probably - 

He fights to get a grip on his thoughts, breathless. Distantly, he notices that his fingers are shaking. 

Down the hallway, there’s the creak of a door opening. The sound feels like something between a victory march and a death knell. 

Soft footsteps pad down the hallway. Then, Hyunjin appears at the entrance to the living room again, and Chan forgets how to do anything other than gape. 

Hyunjin is wearing garters. 

Black garters tied with little bows, attached with thin ribbons to a pair of black lace panties. The fabric is delicate, elegant - it looks expensive. It clings to every dip and curve of Hyunjin’s body - the muscle of his thighs, the line of his hipbone, the curve of his cock, half-hard and filling out even more the longer they stare at him. He’s taken his shirt off too, leaving nothing to distract from the lace and silk. The dim light teases along the ridges and valleys of his chest and stomach, outlining the muscle in soft shadow.

Chan is going to die. He can feel it in his bones. 

“You just… had this? In your bag?” Seungmin speaks first, strangled. He sounds a little like he’s on the edge of insanity. Chan knows exactly how he feels. 

Hyunjin toes nervously at one of the cushions strewn along the carpet, and Chan nearly groans at the juxtaposition of shyness against black lace and silk. His cock is hard enough to hurt and none of the members have even touched him yet. His tongue feels thick in his mouth. His head is swimming.  

“Yes,” Hyunjin whispers. “I like having it with me, sometimes.” 

“God,” Jisung blurts out. “Jagi, baby, can I touch? Please?” 

Hyunjin darts a glance at him and smiles at the urgency on his face. But then, the expression melts into something more devilish. 

“No, Sungie,” he murmurs. “That wasn’t part of the question. Just look, ok?” 

Jisung whimpers. Over it, Minho rasps, 

“Oh, Jinnie. Good boy.” 

Jisung rounds on Minho, betrayed. “Hyung!” 

Minho drops his eyes pointedly to Jisung’s phone. “Ask the next question, jagi. This was your idea. Maybe later there’ll be a touching one for you.” 

Jisung makes a strangled sound halfway between a moan and a yowl of protest. But, grudgingly, he flops back into his seat. 

“Fine. Who’s next, Hyunjinnie?” 

Hyunjin draws on Chan’s white cotton bathrobe and sits back down in his armchair, evaluating them all. Chan is trying desperately not to think about the fact that Hyunjin is wearing his clothes and lace and nothing else when Hyunjin’s gaze alights on him, and he grins. 

“Since Chan-hyung was the only one nice enough to stick up for me, he can go next,” he says.

Chan groans. 

Jisung stabs his thumb at his phone, still pouting slightly, but then his eyes widen. His face cycles through a series of emotions - surprise, betrayal, eagerness. He puts a hand over his mouth and speaks through his fingers, voice garbled and eyes bright. 

“Give the person who played the previous turn a hickey.” 

Fuck. 

Chan looks helplessly over to Hyunjin, all black lace and smokey eyes and sex. 

For a moment, just the idea of it is enough to drag him to the edge. 

“It should be on his thigh,” Felix says in the background. He’s grinning, leaning forward in his seat. “On the inside. We’re all thinking it.” 

Chan is either going to murder Felix or thank him on his fucking knees. 

Hyunjin makes a little sound - almost a whimper. But he’s holding Chan’s gaze, steady. 

Chan manages to convince his mouth to work, mostly through sheer force of will. 

“Jinnie, are you - is that -” 

Hyunjin nods. He leans back in his armchair, inviting. 

“Come here, hyungie.”

Chan stands on shaky legs and crosses the room, dropping to his knees in front of Hyunjin. Hyunjin stares down at him, his eyes bright. 

Fuck, he’s so beautiful. They all are. Sometimes Chan’s chest hurts with how beautiful they are. 

He reaches a hand up, distantly noting that his fingers are trembling slightly. 

Because - again. He’s kissed Hyunjin, touched him. But he hasn’t knelt on the floor at his feet and bitten him on the fucking inner thigh in front of everyone before. 

Adrenaline and nerves sing through him. But somehow, it feels right that so many firsts are happening tonight as a group. It’s right that they’re exploring like this, all together. As they should be. 

He doesn’t even have to touch Hyunjin before the dancer is spreading his legs, pale thighs appearing through the split in his dressing gown. 

Chan refuses to look higher, to see the black lace that Hyunjin is still wearing. If he does, he’ll either lose his nerve or lose control completely, and neither of those things are what he wants. 

He places a careful palm on Hyunjin’s thigh. The moment he touches Hyunjin’s skin, the dancer croons out a soft little sound, his legs widening even further. 

“Hyung,” he whimpers.

Distantly, Chan registers Felix mumbling a curse behind him, and Seungmin taking a long, audible inhale. 

The sounds spike through his brain, through his bloodstream, adding to the slow buzz of insistent urgency. 

He leans in and presses his mouth to the inside of Hyunjin’s thigh. 

He’d aimed to bite low - somewhere safe. But Hyunjin’s legs are spread wide enough that he misjudged the distance, and now his cheek is perilously close to the fall of Hyunjin’s cotton robe, still covering his dick. 

Hyunjin gasps out another sound above him, and Chan feels the muscles in his leg flex. But that’s all he’s aware of - every other sense has been taken over by the texture, the taste of Hyunjin’s skin. A faint hint of salt - sweat, probably - but below that, there’s a sweetness that vibrates across his tastebuds and makes his blood burn. He can smell Hyunjin’s body wash, so much more intense this close, and for a moment, he’s convinced he’s going to dissolve into the feeling and never return. 

Belatedly, he remembers that he has a job to do here, and he focuses on taking a gentle bite, working the skin around with his teeth until he can feel the heat against his tongue. Hyunjin squirms and swears against him, and Chan gets his other hand on Hyunjin’s opposite leg to hold him still. He’s working here, and he’s already close to losing control - if Hyunjin closes his thighs around Chan’s head in all his wriggling around, Chan will not be held responsible for his actions. 

After a minute has gone by, Chan pulls back slightly, and is satisfied to see a patch of purple-blue already blossoming where his mouth had been. The indents of his teeth are still obvious, pressed into the delicate skin. Fuck. 

Helplessly, he leans back in and presses a kiss to the mark. 

Hyunjin whimpers, his thighs flexing under Chan’s palms. “Hyungie. Fuck.” 

Chan smiles against the mark, kisses it again. 

He rises from his knees and turns around to see everyone staring at him, mouths open. Speechless.

Minho clears his throat first. “Points for effort, hyung. No one can say you’re not committed.” 

His voice comes out a little raspy. When Chan looks over to him, he notices with something like surprise that there are indents in his bottom lip - like he’d been biting it hard. 

He looks around and sees similar expressions on all of their faces. Hunger, eagerness. A thrill shoots through him. 

They’re all feeling it too. 

Behind him, Hyunjin closes his legs and exhales a shaky breath. 

“Whose turn is it next, hyung?” Jisung asks eagerly. 

Chan squeezes his eyes shut. 

Part of him wants to do away with the game now - to sink back down to his knees and see if Hyunjin’s sounds would change if he bit him harder, higher up. See if he’d stay all blushing and shy, or if he’d like to have an audience to Chan touching him properly. 

But they’re getting closer to the end, he can feel it. And some part of him likes this feeling - tugging closer to the edge with every challenge, but then dragging back. Learning, watching. Waiting, wanting. A constant swing of curiosity and need.

“Felix,” he says. “You go next.” 

Jeongin makes a murmured sound of approval, and Jisung grabs eagerly for his phone.

Felix pulls his lower lip between his teeth, taunting. 

“Careful what you start, hyung,” he murmurs. “But alright. Truth, Jisungie. I’ve already done my dare.” 

Jisung taps the screen and grins. 

“What’s the most recent thing you saw in porn that you want to try yourself?” 

Felix sniffs, mockingly affronted. “I don’t watch porn, Sungie. I’m above such dirty things.” 

Jeongin scoffs, and Seungmin raises an eyebrow. “Sure, Lix. What were those sounds coming from your room last night, then?”

Felix makes a strangled sound and takes a swipe at Seungmin, who leans away, grinning. Hyunjin cackles in glee, and Chan can’t help laughing along. 

The amusement takes some of the heat out of the moment, softening the sharp-edged need swimming through him at the lingering taste of Hyunjin’s skin on his tongue. But grudgingly, Felix sinks back into his chair, and Chan’s interest piques again. 

Felix bites his lip. Then - 

“Bondage.” 

“Fuck,” Hyunjin whispers. “On you? Or on someone else?” 

Felix darts a glance around the room, evaluating. He shrugs. 

“Either. Both.” His voice is low, rough. “Whatever anyone wants to try.” 

Chan sinks into the idea, helpless. Felix’s pretty, pale wrists wrapped up in black rope. Pinned over his head. His legs apart, bound so that he can’t squirm away. 

He knows Felix is sensitive on his inner thighs - even more so than Hyunjin. Whenever Chan touches him there, he wriggles too much for Chan to get a good grip. But tied down, kept still - he wouldn’t be able to squirm away. Chan could touch him however he liked. The thought of it makes his fingers ache.

 And then - more. Felix tying careful knots around Chan’s own wrists, his ankles. The kinds of things he might do once Chan was held down. 

He looks around the room, pictures it with all of them. Beside him, Jeongin is leaning forward, interested. Absently, his long fingers trace down, following Chan’s elbow, his forearm. His wrists. 

Jeongin pauses there, his fingers wrapped around Chan’s wrists. He’s not even looking at Chan, his gaze fixed intently on Felix. But Chan can feel the weight of his attention. His intent.

“Sounds good, hyung?” he murmurs then. Quiet enough for just the two of them. “Lix-hyung and I both could, if you like.” 

Both of them - both of them - 

Chan whimpers. He can’t help it. The side of Jeongin’s mouth lifts in a grin, and he darts a glance at Chan. His eyes go first to Chan’s flushed cheeks, then his chest, then his hands, crossed over his lap. His smirk widens. 

“You’re really hard, hyung,” he murmurs. 

Chan nods, helpless. 

Of course he’s hard.

“That’s good,” Jeongin murmurs. “Good to know.” 

Fuck, his maknae is a maelstrom. A tornado. Something powerful, all-consuming. Inevitable. 

As if sensing the direction of Chan’s thoughts, Jeongin’s thumb strokes over the inside of his wrists once, twice. Then, he releases him. Chan misses the weight of his grip immediately. 

“Who’s next, Felix-hyung?” Jeongin asks, loud enough for them all.

Felix darts a glance around the room. “Uh… Changbin-hyung, I guess. You go next.” 

Changbin jerks like he’s been shaken out of some kind of trance. 

“What? Oh. Dare, I think? I went truth last time.” 

He’s flustered, clearly distracted. Clearly thinking of exactly the same things Chan was. Chan wonders if Changbin was picturing tying Felix down, or vice versa. He swallows hard. 

Beside him, Jisung yelps in excitement. 

“Oh, hell yes.” He turns his phone around so all of them can read the screen. 

Kiss the person who played the previous turn against the wall.

Felix’s eyes widen. “Oh my god.” 

Changbin shifts Seungmin’s legs to the side and stands up immediately, eyes intent. “Come here, Bokkie. Right now.” 

Felix whimpers, but he rises obediently. He approaches Changbin, only stopping when there’s a scant few inches of space between them. Changbin glances back at Jisung. 

“How long for?” 

Jisung shakes his head. His expression is excited, eager. “No guidelines. As long as you like, I guess.” 

Felix groans a little at that. Changbin grins, a devilish spark in his eyes. He turns back to Felix, and Chan watches, mouth dry, as he practically sizes Felix up, evaluating. 

Felix shifts under his gaze, looking nervous. “If you can’t lift me, it’s fine, I -” 

Changbin smiles at that. 

“Come on, Lix,” he says lightly. “Be serious.” 

And then he’s bending down and grabbing the backs of Felix’s thighs, and Felix squawks as Changbin straightens, lifting him effortlessly up. 

The sight is enough on its own to send another desperate thrum of interest through Chan’s body, but when Changbin turns and slams Felix into the wall with enough force to rattle the pictures, he can’t help the sound that leaves him. 

Felix makes a strangled groan as well, his heels digging into Changbin’s lower spine. Changbin’s biceps flex as he adjusts his grip, and around the room, Chan hears at least three different people mumble curses. 

“Hyung,” Felix babbles. “Kiss, kiss, kiss. Now.” 

Changbin grins and leans in. 

The kiss is firm and deep, like Changbin’s sinking straight into it. Felix is whimpering into Changbin’s mouth, squirming against him and grabbing at his shoulders and back with slim fingers, but Changbin doesn’t even seem to notice the movements. He kisses Felix again, harder, and at the angle Chan is sitting, he has a perfect, devastating view of Changbin’s tongue swiping across Felix’s lip and into his mouth. 

It feels like it lasts forever. It feels like it lasts no time at all. But when Changbin’s hips start to roll forward and Felix’s whimpers change into murmurs of yes, hyung, like that, please, Minho clears his throat sharply and startles them back down to earth. 

“Alright, that’s enough. Coming isn’t part of the game.” 

Changbin pulls back almost immediately, and Felix moans in protest, grabbing at his shoulders. 

“Hyung. I’m close, I’m close, please…” 

“You can wait, Yongbokkie.” Minho cuts him off, not unkindly. “We all are. Have to finish the game, don’t we?” 

“You finish the game,” Felix gasps. “God, please, I’m so close -” 

Changbin wavers, weakening in the face of Felix’s pleading. He starts to roll his hips again, grinding into Felix where he’s still pressed up against the wall. Felix’s moans start to turn high-pitched, whiny - but over the top of them, Seungmin hisses a breath. He rises from his chair and grabs Changbin hard by the back of the neck, fingers digging in. 

“Both of you,” he hisses. “Be good.” 

Changbin reels back like he’s been burned. Felix slides down the wall to stand on unsteady feet, whimpering. 

Fuck. That’s the second time tonight Seungmin has done that same specific movement. 

Chan wants to know what it feels like. He needs to know. 

Felix and Changbin are both hard, panting. Chan needs this fucking game to be over right now and he needs this game to go on forever. 

“We’re getting close, hyung,” Jisung whispers at his side. Like he knows. 

Chan looks to his side and finds him red-faced, biting his lip. He’s done his pants back up since Felix unzipped them at the start of the game, but the effort does nothing to conceal the fact that he’s hard too, pressing firm against the zipper. 

Chan’s cock throbs between his legs. 

“Seungmin, you’re going next, you asshole,” Changbin grinds out from where he’s wedged himself back into the armchair. “I can’t believe you stopped us, fuck.” 

Felix nods fervently from where he’s reclaimed his spot on the couch. He’s sitting with his legs spread, the bulge of his cock hard and obvious through his pants. But his palms are flat against the couch - waiting. Like they all are.

Seungmin smiles serenely, calm despite the fact that he’s back to sitting half in Changbin’s lap. 

“Truth,” he murmurs. “I’ve done my dare. And I stopped you because the game’s not finished, hyung. Don’t spoil Jisungie’s fun.” 

Changbin grumbles something else, flushed and indignant, but Jisung preens and taps his phone again.

“What’s a non-sexual thing that your partner does that turns you on?”

Jeongin raises an eyebrow. “Non-sexual? That’s not very specific.” 

Jisung frowns. “I guess it’s just, like, not kissing you or touching you. Something they do normally. We’ll go with that, at least. Come on, Seungminnie. Pick someone sexy.” He tilts his head expectantly at Seungmin and raises a teasing eyebrow. “It can be about me, don’t worry. We all know how irresistibly attracted you are to me.” 

Seungmin gives him one of his trademark blank, mellow looks that somehow still promises extreme violence, but then his mouth twists into a small smile. His eyes shift - to Felix. 

“Lix.” 

Felix looks startled. “Me?” 

Seungmin nods once. He’s doing an admirable job of hiding it, but Chan knows him well enough to sense that he’s flustered. Not a lot, but enough. The sudden shift in his demeanour is as surprising as it is intriguing. 

“Your eyes,” Seungmin says, just the barest hint of a catch in his voice. “When you’re on stage, and you look right into the camera. Sometimes you look like you want to kill someone. You look really intense, and, uh -” he breaks off, as if becoming aware of what he’s saying. “It makes you look good, is all.” 

He burrows back into the armchair, as if physically shaking off their attention. 

Felix opens his mouth, closes it again. The side of his mouth kicks up into a little smirk. 

“I can look at you like I want to kill you, Minnie, if you want.” 

Seungmin flushes. “Shut up.”

“Nah.” Felix is warming to his topic now, and his face is serious enough that Chan can tell he isn’t teasing. “Seriously. Like this?” 

He rises and approaches Seungmin in his armchair. Seungmin burrows further backwards a little desperately, but Changbin loops an arm around his shoulders and holds him still. Changbin’s smiling too - always happy to aid Felix in one of his schemes. Possibly even more so with the memory of Seungmin reeling them both back from the edge still simmering within him.

Chan can’t help the mingled surge of amusement and slight pity that overtakes him. 

Payback’s a bitch, Minnie.

Chan knows the instant Felix takes on his stage persona. His shoulders relax, his head lifts, his entire gait changes. He doesn’t walk so much as slink up to Seungmin, leaning in to brace his hand on the chair armrest. Close enough that Seungmin can’t look away from his face - close enough that they share breath. 

Seungmin stops struggling, somehow looking both tortured and entranced. When Felix leans closer, Seungmin’s lips part, and he makes a tiny, barely audible sound.

“Like this, Seungminnie?” Felix croons. It’s soft enough not to shatter the tension, but loud enough that they can all hear it. Loud enough that they’re all drawn in. 

Seungmin’s chin dips - the smallest of nods. 

“Ah,” Felix whispers. “This isn’t how I look when I want to kill someone. This is how I look when I want to fuck someone, baby.” 

Seungmin hisses out a breath. “Felix.” 

And the next moment, Felix has closed the gap, and they’re kissing. 

Fuck, they’re so pretty. 

Chan leans forward, hypnotised, watching the way Felix flicks his tongue out almost immediately, tracing Seungmin’s bottom lip and making him whimper. The kiss quickly turns heated, intense - maybe because they’ve been living together and know each other well, or maybe because they’re all so worked up from Jisung’s little game. Maybe both. But within moments, Felix is climbing into Seungmin’s lap, one of his knees shoved between Seungmin’s thigh and the armrest and the other pressed hard against Changbin’s leg. The armchair definitely isn’t big enough for the three of them, but none of them seem to care - Seungmin is making quiet, broken-off little sounds into Felix’s mouth, and Felix has one hand laced through Seungmin’s hair, the other gripping Changbin’s forearm. Changbin is watching them both, eyes dark and hungry. 

Chan wonders how he’s staying so still, especially with the memory of his own dare hanging between them. Seeing Felix like that - seeing Seungmin lose his composure - 

But as soon as the thought enters his head, the leash on Changbin’s control snaps. 

Changbin gets a hand between them and reels Felix back by the throat, ignoring his moan of protest. Then, as they all watch, his hand slides up to Felix’s chin, and he effortlessly turns Felix’s head to the side and kisses him hard.

Oh god. 

Chan watches, tortured, as Changbin holds Felix by the throat and practically devours him. Felix’s protest has dissolved into encouraging moans, and one of his hands shifts to lace through Changbin’s hair, pulling him in. His other hand stays resting on Seungmin’s shoulder, fingers digging in hard enough that the knuckles are white. The three of them, linked together. 

A quick glance around the room confirms that the rest of the group are just as rapt as Chan is. Everyone is fixated on the scene, on the gleam of Felix’s hair, on the way Seungmin’s fingers dig into Felix’s spine, on the grip Changbin has on Seungmin’s shoulder with his free hand. Jisung has started to roll a hand over the crotch of his pants, whimpering, and even Jeongin is breathing hard, leaning forward on the couch, his eyes locked and intent. 

On the armchair, Felix pulls back for air, gasping a little, and Changbin immediately pivots to biting his throat, teeth sinking in over the delicate curve of skin between his neck and shoulder. 

“Oh god,” Felix whimpers. “Are we - are we done playing? Please say we’re done.” 

This time, Seungmin looks torn. He’s watching them both with an intent that looks like hunger - like he’s starving. Felix is spread out in his lap, Changbin panting next to them, and fuck, Chan couldn’t have his restraint in a million fucking years. 

But then, somehow, Minho picks up where Seungmin falters. The pair of them, drawing this out as long as they can. Tormenting them all. 

“We’re not done. Stop, Lix. Seungminnie’s right - we have to finish the game.”

Right at that moment, Changbin sucks hard on the jut of Felix’s throat, turning his groan into more of a whine. 

“Minho-hyung.” 

The groan seems to do something to Seungmin, still pinned beneath Felix. His eyes darken and his fingers slide to the small of Felix’s back, dipping a mere inch below his waistband. Felix arches his back with an encouraging moan. 

“Don’t make me come over there, Yongbokkie,” Minho rasps. “We’re close. We can’t quit now.”

Can’t they? Chan’s given into the urge to palm his cock again, hard and aching through his sweatpants. But then Seungmin pulls back and rasps You have a turn then, hyung, and Jisung looks down at his phone screen and gasps, and Chan claws the fracturing pieces of his restraint back together with shaky fingers. 

“It’s truth, right, hyung?” Jisung asks, and there’s an edge of urgency to his voice that makes the question sound more like a demand. “It’s definitely truth. You already did your dare.” 

“Sure, Jisungie,” Minho exhales. He’s still fixed on Felix, perched on Seungmin’s lap and panting into his neck, but their urgent movements have stilled, and Minho looks mollified. 

Jisung swallows. His eyes are sparkling. 

“Have you ever begged during sex?” 

Seungmin barks out a laugh, and Felix splutters, spinning around in Seungmin’s lap. Minho jerks his gaze over to Jisung, his eyes sharp. 

“Is that really the question, jagi?” he asks, his voice dark and honey-sweet. Dangerous. 

Jisung squirms a little, cheeks red. 

“It is,” he insists. He turns his phone around so that they can all read, and - fuck. 

There’s a fishhook in Chan’s gut, pulling towards Minho. He doesn’t even know what he hopes the answer will be. Minho is famously unruffled - always calm, always in control. Always the one taking them apart. They haven’t done a lot in the past few weeks, but Chan knows what Minho’s voice sounds like when he’s giving commands. 

It’s hot. It’s so fucking hot. 

He’s never, ever thought about hearing it any other way. But now…

There’s a long, agonising pause. Chan notes with something like surprise that Minho’s ears are flushed bright red - indignation, or embarrassment, or something else. In the silence of the room, the click Minho’s throat makes as he swallows is louder than a groan. 

Finally, grudgingly, he says, “Yes. Once. Under extreme duress.” 

Chan’s cock throbs in his pants, and he can’t help the moan that falls from his lips. At his side, Felix curses, and Jeongin hisses a sharp breath. 

“What kind of duress?” Hyunjin presses. 

Minho makes a muffled sound halfway between a snarl and a groan. 

A quick glance around the room confirms that all of the members look just as eager, just as entranced as Chan is. 

Not with any of them, then. 

A situation that needs to be rectified immediately, Chan feels. 

Minho exhales. “It was… he used a vibrator on me. And that is all the fucking detail you’re getting, Jinnie, so help me god.” 

He shakes his head, as if dispelling the memory, and Hyunjin croons in disappointment. Images flood Chan’s mind, searing, overwhelming. Minho on his back with his legs spread. Hard, flushed. Begging. 

“Hyung…” Jisung whines, halfway to a protest, but Minho cuts him off. 

“Your turn, honey,” he rasps. “Take your dare.” 

His cheeks are redder than Chan’s ever seen them. He looks flustered, worked up. Desperate. 

Chan is ordering a vibrator the second everyone leaves tonight. 

Jisung pouts, glassy-eyed with his own imaginings, but he relents and taps his phone. His eyes widen, and his hand drops. 

“Oh.”

 Chan waits, but he doesn’t say anything further. 

Urgency starts to well inside him. Jisung looks up, not to him, but to Jeongin. When the maknae meets his eyes, Jisung’s lips part, but no sound comes out. He just stares and stares and stares. 

Finally, Jeongin reaches for his phone. 

“Show me, hyung.” 

He flips the screen around to read it, then exhales a short, sharp breath that sounds like it’s been punched out of him. 

After a pause, he reads out, 

“Let the player to your left spank you ten times.” 

Jeongin’s eyes go back to Jisung, then to the scant few inches of space between them. The fingers of his free hand flex once, as if shaking off a tremor. 

“I will if you will, hyung,” he murmurs. 

Jisung reddens even further. His ears are practically glowing. 

Minho speaks up, looking a little worried. 

“Jisungie -” 

“Yes,” Jisung interrupts. “Yes, Innie, you can.” He pauses, swallows. Attempts a weak laugh. “We have to finish the game.” 

It doesn’t feel like a fucking game anymore, Chan nearly says. But the words choke off in his throat. And when Felix shifts off the couch to give them more room, and tugs Chan down to the carpet with him - when Jisung squirms around and gets on his hands and knees on the couch cushions like he’s done it before - when Jeongin kneels behind him and braces a palm on Jisung’s lower back like he’s done it before - 

Chan can’t help the sound that leaves him. Distantly, he feels Felix place his hand on his thigh and dig his fingers in. 

“Watch, hyung.” His voice is rich, smoky. Excited. 

Chan watches, entranced, tortured, dying, as Jeongin’s hand rises. 

Falls. 

The crack it makes as it lands echoes through the room. 

Jisung jerks forward with a whine. “Innie.” 

Their maknae’s name melts from his lips like spun sugar. Chan wants to kiss it out of his mouth. He wants to kiss Jeongin for making Jisung sound like this. 

“Count for me, hyung,” Jeongin says levelly, and Chan nearly fucking whimpers. 

Beneath him, Jisung makes a strangled sound. But his head dips, and his answer is meek, obedient. 

“One.” 

“Good.” Jeongin strokes his back once, twice. Then, his hand rises again. 

The crack as his palm comes down feels like something divine. 

Jisung whimpers. “Two.” 

Jeongin spanks him again. Again. Again. 

Jisung keeps counting, sweetly pliant even as his voice starts to rise higher and his stifled sounds turn into moans. By the time Jeongin gets to the ninth strike, Jisung has sunk down to his elbows, ass in the air, panting into the couch cushions. 

“Fuck. Innie, fuck. Nine. Baby, please -” 

“One more, hyung,” Jeongin cuts him off. “You can take one more, can’t you?” 

Jisung nods several times, his shoulders heaving. “Yes, yes, baby, just - quickly, please, I’m going to come if we don’t stop soon, please -” 

Jeongin’s eyes spark, and Chan nearly swears out loud. Jeongin opens his mouth, but Minho beats him to it.

“You could come from this, honey?” he asks, and the words are too intense to be a question. They’re a demand - something urgent, visceral. Chan can feel the intensity vibrating off Minho in waves. “Just from this?” 

Jisung nods again, burying his face in the cushions. Only the tip of his ear is visible, bright red with embarrassment and heat. 

“Yes,” he groans. 

Jeongin’s mouth twists - hunger, or something close to it. 

His hand cracks down one final time. 

Jisung jerks forward with a whimpered curse and stays there, grinding helplessly against the cushions. For a moment, Jeongin lets him, pressing down with his palm against the small of Jisung’s back to encourage him to move faster, harder. But when Jisung starts to stammer out curses, Jeongin seems to shake himself, and his grip shifts, lightning-fast, to Jisung’s hip. 

“Hyung,” he says sharply. “Hyung, it’s my turn. It’s my turn and then we’re done.” 

Jisung whines into his crossed arms, short and choked. 

“Innie, please.”

Jeongin pulls his hip, dragging him back up onto his knees. Jisung makes a strangled sound of protest at the loss of friction.

“What’s my dare, hyung?” Jeongin insists. His fingers are tight around Jisung’s hips, knuckles white and unforgiving. 

“Innie,” Jisung gasps. “Innie, fucking - kiss me.” 

Jeongin’s smirk widens into a grin that’s almost terrifying. Without hesitation, he uses his grip on Jisung’s hips to flip him around, pressing him down on the couch. Jisung yelps, and Jeongin surges between his spread legs and swallows the sound down in a hard, savage kiss. 

The action is like a dam breaking. A fuse igniting. 

Jisung locks his legs around Jeongin’s hips with an approving groan, crushing him in tighter. Behind him, Chan registers Hyunjin’s voice demanding for someone to touch me right now before I fucking die, shortly followed by an answering moan from Changbin. There’s a startled yelp blurring into a groan from Seungmin followed by a dark laugh that sounds suspiciously like Minho. 

A hand lands on his thigh and squeezes hard. Chan looks up and gets a split-second to register the hunger in Felix’s eyes before the dancer pounces on him. 

He knocks Chan flat on his back on the carpet, crawling up to straddle his hips and brace his palms on either side of Chan’s shoulders. The sudden influx of sensation is overwhelming, overpowering - Chan’s mouth drops open in a gasp and Felix immediately seizes on the opportunity, claiming his mouth in a rough kiss. Chan grabs desperately for any part of Felix he can reach - his waist, his arms, lacing through his hair. He kisses back as quickly as he can, so turned on he feels like he’ll die with it. His heart is like beating wings, all the pent-up desire and urgency from playing Jisung’s game releasing in a wave.

Felix parts Chan’s lips with his tongue, flicking the tip over Chan’s tongue, his teeth. The kiss is messy, graceless, aggressive - exactly what Chan wants. What he needs. 

Felix only pulls back when he and Chan are both gasping, fighting to take a breath. His hands move to brace on Chan’s chest, taking handfuls of his pecs and squeezing hard as he starts to rock his hips back and down. 

“Fucking hell,” he mumbles, the words barely coherent. “Channie-hyung, Jisungie has the best ideas. The best. You and Hyunjinnie - you and Minho-hyung -” 

Chan grabs Felix’s hips to guide his movements, breathless. “I know. I know, baby.” 

“Do you?” Felix demands, sliding his hands up Chan’s throat to tip his head to the side. He leans in, sharp canines closing in a bite to Chan’s neck that has him whimpering, bucking up into the next roll of Felix’s hips. 

Felix’s next words are so low, they sound like they’re being dragged out of him. 

“I would do anything to watch that again. I want Minho-hyung to make you come just by grinding on you, hyungie. I want you to bite Hyunjinnie so many times that he fucking cries. I want you to come home with me and Seungminnie and tie us to the fucking bed, baby, god -” 

His words grow rougher, a ground-out babble of filth and hunger. He rocks his hips faster, harder, grinding his ass against Chan’s cock. Even through both of their clothes, the friction is overwhelming, and after what feels like hours of watching his members kiss and touch around him, Chan refuses to be embarrassed about how close he is to the edge. He grips Felix’s waist hard, guiding his movements as much as he’s able. 

“Lix,” he manages. “Don’t stop.” 

Felix nods, breathless. His cheeks are bright red, his forehead and throat lightly sheened with sweat. A strand of his hair is caught on his lips, fluttering in time with his panted breaths. 

It’s so much. It’s never enough. 

Chan surges up and flips Felix around before he can help it, slamming him down on his back on the carpet. Felix fucking whimpers, grabbing at his shoulders with shaky hands. 

Behind him, Chan hears Hyunjin whine, a choked, broken sound. He jerks his gaze up and sees Changbin kneeling between Hyunjin’s spread legs. He’s parted the white cotton robe, and Hyunjin is spread out like a feast on his armchair, endless miles of smooth, flushed skin. Changbin’s gotten Hyunjin’s panties down and is stroking his cock, his other palm gripping Hyunjin’s thigh. His thumb is digging in right where the imprint of Chan’s bite is still blooming purple-blue on his skin. 

Next to them, Seungmin is braced on all fours with his pants around his knees amidst the remnants of Minho’s pile of cushions, Minho kneeling behind him. Seungmin is whimpering into a pillow, his knuckles white with tension against the fabric. Minho has a one hand between his legs, stroking him fast and mean, and the other pressing between his cheeks. Not inside, but just enough to tease. To torment. 

“Naughty puppy,” Chan hears Minho croon. “Should show you what you get for being a fucking tease.” 

“Hyung,” Seungmin whimpers. “Hyung, hyung, I’m sorry, please, I-” 

“Jeonginnie,” Jisung’s whine cuts through his pleading. Chan jerks his gaze over, sees Jisung’s legs locked around Jeongin’s hips, both of their pants down just enough for the maknae’s long fingers to wrap around their cocks. 

They’re all together. They’re all consumed by each other, as they always have been, as they always will be. 

Chan looks back down at Felix, spread flushed and needy beneath him. A fallen angel. 

Or a demon. 

“Make me come, hyungie,” Felix rasps. “Please.”

Chan braces himself on one hand, lifts himself just enough to get his fingers in Felix’s waistband and tug down to free his cock. It springs free immediately, flushed and hard and slick at the tip. 

Chan tugs his own waistband down. Wraps his fingers around them both, and finally, finally, starts stroking the way he needs. After so long waiting, the pleasure is dizzying. A deep-burning ache of gratification, of desperation sated.

Felix squirms and swears underneath him, writhing with every flick of Chan’s wrist. His sounds merge perfectly with Seungmin’s whimpers, Jisung’s moans, Hyunjin’s curses - puzzle pieces locking together, one by one. 

“Hyung,” Felix pleads. “Close.”

Chan nods, breathless. “Me too, baby.” 

Behind them, slick sounds echo as Changbin dips his head and takes Hyunjin’s cock in his mouth. Hyunjin stammers out praises and curses, tangling with Seungmin’s sobs as Minho digs a cruel finger into the sensitive spot just below the head of his dick. 

“Minho-hyung. Please, please -” 

“Come on, puppy, you can beg me better than that.” 

On the couch - Jisung’s moans, Jeongin’s growls. 

“Jeonginnie, faster, god, I need it, please -” 

“So pretty, hyung. You wanna come? You really need it that bad?”

“Yes, yes, please, please -”

A cacophony of desire. All their desperation released in a torrent, with Chan at the centre of it all. 

And beneath him - 

“On me.” Felix’s shaking hands push his own shirt up, baring his pale stomach, the lines of his ribs. “Come on me, baby, please.” 

Fuck. 

Without his permission, Chan’s hand clenches hard. His hips rock hard into his own fist once, twice. 

Felix makes a broken, agonised sound and his hips jerk, and suddenly, there’s wet warmth painting Chan’s fingers, his wrist. 

That’s all it takes. 

Chan closes his eyes as the torrent surges over his head, pleasure tearing through him in a wave. He drives his hips hard into the circle of his own fingers, drawing out the orgasm as long as he can while Felix squirms and sobs underneath him. Around him, Changbin’s groans speed up, a staccato beat, and Jeongin moans and Minho hisses and it’s everything, everywhere, always. 

When Chan finally comes down, it’s to the sight of his own release smeared sticky across Felix’s belly. He rubs his thumb through it, entranced, and Felix wriggles. 

“Tickles,” he mumbles, a dazed protest. His face is still slack with pleasure, lips swollen and eyes bright.

Chan grins. 

He rolls off Felix to prop himself against the couch, and immediately, Jeongin leans down and tips his chin up into a kiss. His tongue slides in, tasting, claiming. The sweetness wraps through the lingering arousal, mellowing it into something warm and soft. 

When Jeongin pulls away, Chan blinks his eyes open, dazed. 

In the background, Chan registers the other members kissing and touching around him. Jisung hauls Felix up into a kiss, Seungmin clambers back into Changbin’s lap, Minho tips his head to bite Hyunjin on his other thigh. 

All of them, closing the circle. 

Eventually, they relax properly. Changbin settles back in his armchair, one hand still gripping Seungmin’s bare leg. Felix dots kisses down the column of Jisung’s throat, sleepily affectionate, then blows another kiss at Changbin and Hyunjin across the room.

Minho studies them all in turn, a proprietary hand on Hyunjin’s bare thigh. Then, his mouth spreads in a slow, teasing smile.

“So,” he says softly. “Who wants to play another round?”