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They’re all sitting on the couch, watching a drama Hyunjin has roped them into one by one until they’re all interested enough to spend their Saturday night catching up on it. It’s almost too normal, the way they’re all sitting around in the dark, grasping blankets and cushions and reclining on each other.
All except one.
Chan is kneeling on the floor by the middle of the couch, knee pads securely fastened, protecting him from the hour he’s been on the ground already. His cheek is pressed to the cushion, resting right next to Changbin’s thigh. As he shifts, the metal on his collar clinks against the attached leash. A soft but distinguishable sound.
The leash hangs between the link in Chan’s collar and Changbin’s loose fist. No one pays him any mind, too wrapped up in the show to care, and that's just how he likes it. Cared for by being ignored. By being left alone and floating, on stand-by for anything they might need.
As if listening in on his thoughts, Chan feels eyes shift to him. He doesn't look up, doesn't want to ruin the surprise of who's about to ask for him. He hopes someone will ask for him. He can't wait to help, to be used—
“Can I pet your dog?” Minho is the one who speaks, clearly directing his question to Changbin.
“Sure," Changbin answers, "but be careful, he might bite.”
Chan would never. He would never bite, not if they didn’t ask for it.
… Okay, there was one time but he was so far gone he barely even registered it, too lost in the headspace to really care at the moment. He’d gotten a scolding for it, sure, but he still feels the urge sometimes. Right now, it’s at the forefront of his mind. No biting. No bites.
A hand that must be Minho’s lands on the top of his head, mussing up the curls with a rough movement. Chan leans into it, relishing the harshness, especially as the fingers thread through his messy locks and pull, forcing his head up and back in order to meet Minho's eyes properly. The collar clinks with the movement.
It’s so good already, Chan whines. He opens his mouth on instinct, tongue lolling out, desperate to have something in it. His hips move back and forth, shaking the tail plug in his ass in a poor imitation of what a real dog would do.
“Oh,” Minho coos at him, “poor, needy puppy.”
“Maybe he wants a kitty to play with,” Seungmin offers.
Chan’s eyebrows knit together in a silent plea. He catches the look Minho gives Seungmin a few seats down, narrowed eyes in his direction, but he ignores their tension in favor of whining again. Whenever Minho dons his kitten collar, it always feels like a rare treat. He and Minho overlap in their play so little, he cherishes every moment, and the mere mention of it has him wishing it were happening right now.
What he gets instead is Minho shifting forward, second hand sliding over Chan’s face. He cups Chan’s jawline and easily slides his thumb into his mouth with the grip. Chan’s breath leaves him in a rush, feeling the pressure on his tongue as Minho presses into it, keeping his jaw open. Minho knows exactly how to touch him, they all do, but they all have such different ways of going about it that it feels like a gift to have this. To have them, all of them.
“What does the puppy want?” Minho asks lowly. Their eyes meet, dark pupils matching in their intensity.
Even if he wanted to break the rule of ‘dogs don’t speak’, his jaw is still being held open rendering him unable to say anything, so he resorts to shifting his gaze over Minho’s face. Anything you want, he wants to say. He is theirs. Their puppy. Their plaything.
“I can do anything, right? That's what you always ask for, isn't it?”
God, he’s so glad they know him so well. He loves them, he loves them, he loves him—
The thumb on his tongue retreats, hand sliding off his jaw. The grip on his hair lessens but doesn’t fade, and Chan watches with growing desperation as Minho loosens the drawstring on his pants and sets about shifting them off enough to get his soft dick out. Chan’s mouth waters at the sight.
“Come on, pup. Use that pretty mouth.”
The guiding hand in his hair is unnecessary; Chan almost throws himself forward in his eagerness to please. His lips find the smooth skin easily and he takes Minho into his mouth, suckling on him lightly. Minho gives a slow exhale, relaxing into Chan's gentle rhythm. He doesn't move much but the collar still sounds in the relative quiet, like a bell signaling just how good, how obedient, how owned Chan can be.
It's almost meditative, the way he settles into it. The feeling of Minho's cock slowly filling his mouth, getting harder as Chan falls deeper into a cozy headspace which leaves him buzzing. He’s so glad, so grateful to be useful. For anything they might need. For this especially.
"Oh, fuck," Minho sighs out, "good boy. Good dog."
The compliment pulls him away from floating, his eyes flying open and brows furrowing. When he looks upward, he spots Minho's face drawn up in pleasure. He's so handsome, Chan thinks.
And there, right next to him, he spots Felix. The younger man's cheek is laid on Minho's shoulder and he seems to be enjoying the view. The wide, earnest look set in Felix's fond expression makes Chan's eyes shut briefly, the feeling of being watched so blatantly washing over him. He loves this. The shame it brings is only dulled by the knowledge that they won't judge him. That none of them ever have, none of them ever will.
Another hand slides into his hair, overlapping with Minho’s. The muffled noise that accompanies it makes Chan look again, towards the pair of them kissing, Felix’s hand tangling into his curls. Then, pressure, pushing him further onto Minho’s cock, making the tip of it brush the back of Chan’s throat. He can tell it’s Felix’s doing by the way Minho whimpers, breaking the kiss and tightening his grip on Chan’s hair.
Chan gags, feels his saliva spilling over and running down Minho’s skin, wetting his pants where they’re barely pulled out of the way. Tears spring to Chan’s eyes, making his view of them swim. He can tap out if he needs to, has a signal for it— but he doesn’t want to. This isn’t nearly enough to make him reconsider and they both know that— Felix especially. They know Chan’s limits so well that the second Minho arches his back, shifting marginally deeper into Chan’s mouth, the pressure on the back of his head disappears. He takes the opportunity to pull back, coming up for air and sniffling past the wetness in his eyes.
When he looks up, chest heaving, he meets Minho’s lidded eyes.
“Okay?” Felix asks.
Chan swallows, feels the ghost ache in his throat, and nods. For good measure, he puts up his hand, one finger up. The sign to keep going, green, I’m okay, please continue. He tries to pair it with his widest eyes, pleading. Please continue.
“Come back here, pup.” Minho reaches towards him, pulling him back in gently. “Show me how good you are with that mouth and make me come.”
He can. He wants to, so much.
Minho’s cock is already a mess of spit, so when Chan reaches up to grip his base and stroke up, his movements are made easier. He can feel eyes on him as he moves in to suckle the head of Minho’s dick, but he doesn’t look away to see who his audience is. His focus is Minho, only Minho. He has to be good for him.
He falls into the rhythm easily, taking in more of Minho’s cock with every bob of his head until he feels the head of it graze the back of his throat. The ache returns, a welcome pain, and Minho moans, hips shifting up. Chan gags again, feels the hand in his hair tighten, encouraging him to keep going.
It’s all so slick, the sound of it almost drowning out the show still playing behind him. His face feels wet, spit gathering on his cheeks and dripping down his chin, running in rivulets to his collar.
“Oh, fuck,” Minho groans, deep and rumbling. His back arches, hips giving a stilted thrust and Chan whimpers and whines when he feels the first drops of cum hit his tongue. He redoubles his efforts, making soft, needy noises as he bobs up and down, hand following his mouth. It’s like heaven, the proof of his hard work filling his mouth. He made Minho feel good. He made Minho come.
He doesn’t stop, even when Minho shivers and curls in on himself, likely oversensitive. Doesn’t stop until Minho pulls him off with a harsh tug on his hair, making him whine again. Cum spills over his bottom lip and down his chin where he wasn’t quick enough to close his mouth. He meets Minho’s eyes, eyebrows drawn up. Sees the flush on his ears and neck.
“Good dog,” Minho says, his other hand cupping his chin and wiping off the few stray drops of cum. “Swallow. Come on. Show me how good you are.”
Chan swallows without second thought, feeling it coat his throat. Without being asked, he licks Minho’s thumb clean, too, his mouth overwhelmed with the raw taste of Minho. The smile it gets him is fond. Proud. Hits him square in the chest, makes him feel like he’s floating. Like he’s done well.
Minho pats his cheek lightly. “You did good.”
Chan sighs heavily at the confirmation, smile forming on his face. He basks in the compliment, the reassurance that he’s been useful. That he helped.
The glow doesn’t last for long, though. Jisung pipes up, tapping Changbin’s arm and demanding plaintively, “Can I have a turn with him?”
They don’t always agree on when they get a turn, discussions and rock-paper-scissors fights often breaking out to decide an order. For a second, Chan expects there to be a rebuttal, almost sees the fight in Changbin’s face, but he’s surprised when, instead of asserting a turn, Changbin simply shrugs and untangles his hand from the leash.
“Go ahead,” he encourages, handing the leash over, and Jisung’s eyes light up. He turns his attention to Chan, tugging on the leash lightly.
“Come on, puppy,” Jisung says as he makes Chan crawl over on all fours to the end of the couch. He taps the space next to him lightly. “Up here.”
Chan sets his hands on the couch but doesn’t get to lift his knees before he’s being manhandled onto the leather by Jisung’s impatient hands. He gets rearranged, kneeling on all fours facing the other six with Jisung settled on the couch behind him.
Someone makes a displeased noise.
“What?” Jisung asks.
It’s Jeongin who made the noise, and he looks a little less than thrilled. “Come on, you know there’s no dogs on the couch.”
Hyunjin hooks his chin over Jeongin’s shoulder, studying the scene developing across the way from them. “Hey, it can be good!” He locks eyes with Chan. “Right, puppy?”
All Chan can do is nod jerkily, quick to acquiesce. He wants to be good. He can be good enough to stay on the couch.
Hands find his hips as Jisung says, “Yeah, let’s take pity on my knees while I use it.”
Jeongin makes another noise. “Fine, but you’re cleaning its mess.”
Chan can tell Jisung is rolling his eyes when he answers, “Sure, whatever.”
Seungmin, who knows Jisung will not clean up any mess Chan makes, sighs and reaches over for the towel they’ve set aside for this. He helps set it up under Chan, lifting his hands and knees with a gentle touch, as one would a real dog.
“He’s good,” Seungmin declares once he’s done, and a second later, Chan feels a firm grip digging into his ass, spreading his cheeks apart. He clenches out of instinct, feels the plug shift inside him.
“Look at that,” Jisung murmurs, tugging on the plug lightly. “What a pretty tail.”
Chan wiggles his hips in response, hears Jisung’s laugh echoed by a few others down the couch. It’s nice to be the center of their attention like this, but he also feels his face heating up at the knowledge they’re all going to watch. It always gets to him, whenever they have him like this. He loves the thrill of it, the weight of their eyes on him.
Another tug almost loosens the plug, makes him choke on his breath. And then he feels it slide out, slow, almost gentle. He’s left clenching around nothing, missing the feeling of being filled already.
He doesn’t have to wait for long. The click of the cap of a bottle of lube is all he hears before he feels a finger slide in, cold on his heated skin, but wet, easy. It barely feels like anything after having the plug inside for so long but at least it’s something.
“Stretched yourself already, huh? What a slutty little puppy.” Jisung quickly moves in with a second finger, the stretch of it still not enough. He wiggles his hips again, needing more, only to feel the grip on his hip tighten, the leather leash in Jisung’s grip digging into his skin. “Puppy. Stop.”
It’s a simple command. One that has Chan stilling immediately, breath lodged in his chest. Jisung slides in a third finger and Chan shakes with the effort to keep still. He only thrusts in a few times, not enough to properly stretch Chan, but he’s loose enough from earlier prepping that it doesn’t matter when Jisung’s impatience wins out and he’s pulling away a moment later. The blunt head of Jisung’s cock presses against him, and he wills himself to relax into it.
When Jisung slides in, he exhales out a moan. Chan bites his tongue, whining barely contained by it. He loves this. Loves the stretch, loves being filled and used by any of them. By all of them. Loves it all even more when Jisung doesn’t give him a chance to breathe or acclimate before he’s moving his hips, slowly building a rhythm. It sets Chan’s stomach on fire, the dull pleasure of it. His head is fuzzy with the weight of the collar, the sound of it clinking in time with Jisung’s thrusts. There’s a hint of pressure around his neck from where the leash is still being held against his hip, the tension of it pulled over his back. If he hangs his head forward, he can feel it cutting off his breath, pressing on his veins.
It’s bliss.
His tongue lolls out as he pants, too lost in the headspace to care. Saliva gathers on his bottom lip, dripping down in big globs, running down his chin, and staining the towel. For one delirious second, he’s glad Seungmin had the foresight— and then Jisung wraps his arms around Chan’s chest and lifts him up, pressing them together, chest to back.
The change in angle makes him moan loudly, head lolling forward again before Jisung threads his hand through his hair and pulls it back up. Like this, he can’t ignore their looks. The show on the TV goes unwatched as they look at him hungrily, fascinated. He sees Changbin dig the heel of his hand into the noticeable line of his cock, sees Felix leaning into his space to cover Changbin’s hand with his, pressing down harder. He sees Hyunjin nudging his nose into Jeongin’s space, looking for a kiss Jeongin easily gives. They fall into each other, lost to the world.
Minho lays in the middle of them all, unmoved, his expression a syrupy sort of enjoyment. His lidded eyes are too sweet, slow and sated from Chan’s work. He looks like he’s not planning on going again but Chan knows by now that he’ll likely get another orgasm before the night is out, one Chan would love to be involved in.
Just like Minho watches, Seungmin does, too. He’s the closest to Chan, gaze heavy and searing, burning into him intensely.
Jisung moans into Chan’s neck, the sound of skin on skin muted somewhat by the fact that he’s still wearing most of his clothes. Chan gasps a greedy breath, blinking past the fog of pleasure when he feels the lightest of touches on his cock. He jerks in Jisung’s arms, meeting Seungmin’s eyes.
The tip of Seungmin’s index finger rests on the head of Chan’s cock, the touch so light he barely feels it, but it makes him realize just how desperate he is. He’s been hard for what feels like hours, isn’t sure when his cock had started filling up despite himself, but it’s now taken a backseat to everyone else’s pleasure. Minho’s, Jisung’s, everyone watching them. They’re what matters.
He clenches down on Jisung’s cock, shaking when Seungmin runs his finger down again. Jisung and Chan gasp out twin groans, a shockwave of pleasure making their rhythm falter.
“Hm.” Seungmin intones over the sound of them all, the moans and gasps and distant pressing of lips. “Puppy’s leaking. I think he likes being used like this.”
“He really does,” Minho all but purrs in response.
Chan whines, closing his eyes and throwing his head back on Jisung’s shoulder. He can feel Jisung getting sloppy, pleasure overtaking him, heedless of Chan’s growing desperation. Somewhere along the way, he hears Hyunjin keening, high and desperate, Changbin cursing under his breath.
He knows Jisung is gonna come the second he starts talking. It’s a special thing he does right at the end, barely coherent enough, but still enough to affect Chan with the way Jisung breathes in his ear. “Fuck, fuck, you— you’re so h-hot, puppy. You’re so good, so good, love it when I can use you like th-this. ‘M gonna fill you up so good, so much, you’re gonna make me co—”
Jisung breaks off with a high whine, hips stuttering as Chan feels him shake. He comes with his face pressed into Chan’s neck, leaving Chan’s chest heaving when he stills. He feels— full, stuffed with Jisung’s cum and his cock. His own cock is throbbing with need now, heat filling his limbs.
The arms around his chest lessen their hold. Chan falls back onto all fours, crying out when he feels the collar pull at his neck. Jisung gives a broken noise when Chan clenches around his softening dick. When he relaxes, Jisung pulls out, leaving him empty once more. He feels the cum and lube leak out of him, and he resists the urge to reach behind him and push it all back in.
The air around him shifts, something occurring over his head that he’s too far gone to care about or parse. Jisung’s presence behind him retreats and settles down. A tug at the collar brings him back to the moment, pulling him forwards. He opens his eyes, unaware that he’d closed them, and spies Seungmin gripping the leash, hands tangled in his lap.
“Puppy,” Seungmin calls to him, makes him look up to meet his eyes. Seungmin’s hungry gaze has settled, turning softer. He pats his lap gently. “Come here.”
Another light tug has Chan moving slowly on shaking limbs, swinging his leg over to straddle Seungmin’s lap. He makes a mess where he drags over the fabric of his pants but Seungmin says nothing of it, simply shifts around enough to get his cock out.
Beside them, the deafening sounds of rustling fabric, then the wet sounds of something more, another chorus of moans. Chan turns on instinct, curiosity piqued, but he barely gets a glance when Seungmin pulls the leash, hard. It makes Chan’s head spin, gasping as he turns back to Seungmin. When he’s sure he has Chan’s full attention, he gives a wispy smile.
“Make me come.” It’s so simple. Something so Seungmin. And before he can really register the words, he’s already moving, scooting up to line Seungmin’s cock up and sinking down to the hilt without a second thought. He relishes Seungmin’s moan, the knowledge that he’s making him feel good, that they’re both feeling good. And then he’s bouncing on Seungmin’s cock with a single purpose, moving quickly.
“That’s it,” Seungmin breathes out. “Just like that.”
The link in his collar clinks loudly in the space, eyes closing as he works. When Seungmin groans, he feels a tug on the leash, making his movements stutter. Another tug sets him off again, redoubling his efforts to follow Seungmin’s command. Chan’s thighs burn and his stomach coils with pleasure, chasing the few wisps of it with each hurried movement.
Seungmin gives another groan, a hand landing on Chan’s aching thigh. “Good boy. Doing so w-well. Good puppy.”
He loses himself in it, in trying to make Seungmin come. In following his order. His body is on autopilot, given a command and needing to follow through. He floats through it, the simple need of obedience circling through his head, fogging his conscience.
A single word breaks through it all. “Puppy.”
He doesn’t stop, still moving when he opens his eyes, panting. His tongue almost lolls out, doglike, but before he can continue, a hand wraps around his cock, makes his brows knit together. He meets Seungmin’s gaze with wild eyes, keening and whimpering at the touch. When Seungmin strokes up and down firmly, Chan slams down on him, grinding in circles as he shakes.
Another slow, deliberate stroke. “Think you’ve been good enough?”
He bobs his head in big, quick nods. He’s been good. He’s been good. But—
Chan tilts his head, questioning. His hips move again, a quick twitch.
“You want to come, don’t you?”
Chan nods again, still hesitant.
“It’s okay, puppy. I want to see it. Go ahead.”
He starts moving again, ignoring the twinge in his thighs. Chan can feel the tears prick at the corners of his eyes, shivering when Seungmin’s grip tightens.
It doesn’t even take him three thrusts before he can feel his orgasm approaching. Now that he’s been given permission to come, it’s like it all hits him at once. The stretch of Seungmin in him, the wet sound of lube and Jisung’s cum as he moves, the way he can still taste hints of Minho on his tongue. A distant moan rings out, one Chan vaguely recognizes as Changbin’s, raising his temperature further.
When it starts, it’s like a crashing wave. He moans, moans, feels his orgasm cresting over him, making his toes curl— and then he comes, yelling out with the feeling of it. He throws his head back, the tears in his eyes spilling over with how good it feels, how intense. He shivers as he grinds on Seungmin’s cock, still throbbing inside him, wishing he could make him come, too. He wants it so much, wants Seungmin to feel this good—
His chest is heaving, head blank in the aftermath of pleasure. His thighs ache like never before, hips still moving as he tries so hard to make Seungmin come. A brush against his prostate makes him yell out again, too sensitive for it to feel good. He curls in on himself, movements ceasing. He feels the tears in his eyes well up again, wanting to be good, to follow Seungmin’s command— but being unable to.
Seungmin’s gentle hands land on his back, curling Chan into his chest fully as he’s hugged tightly. It makes him feel small, being held like this. Makes him feel like he’s being cared for. Seungmin’s warm body against him, his soft shirt, his slowing breaths.
“It’s okay, puppy.” Seungmin’s hands rub over his back, calming. “I told you it was okay to come. You did so well.”
Chan whines lightly, shifting again, highlighting the fact that he can’t do as Seungmin says. He feels Seungmin shake his head.
“You wanna make me come?”
Chan nods, whimpering lightly. Pleading.
“Okay, puppy. I’ll help you make me come.”
In a less gentle movement, Seungmin’s hands slide down to Chan’s thighs, digging under his knees, and turning him to the side. Chan lands on the towel gracelessly and Seungmin is quick to press back into him, fucking into him in hurried strokes. He feels it, the twinge of overstimulation that’s almost painful, but he shivers past it, focuses on clenching around Seungmin with what little strength he has left.
“Good boy,” Seungmin pants in English, the words slurring together, “good boy, good boy, good boy—”
Chan whimpers loudly, clenching again and again, drawing Seungmin into his body until Seungmin’s hips are stuttering and he’s groaning, grinding into Chan’s ass as he comes.
That feeling of completeness fills Chan. He helped Seungmin come, can feel the proof of it in him, overflowing and dripping down his skin. It makes him feel so good, so useful. He’s fuzzy around the edges with it, the pleasure of a job well done.
“Good boy,” Seungmin says one last time, voice breathless. He drops a kiss onto Chan’s shoulder and pulls out carefully. Chan stares at the ceiling, mind blank, and sees Jisung pass his tail plug to Seungmin, who presses it back into him gently. Chan shivers again, relaxing gradually.
He barely gets a moment’s breath when movement by his side catches his attention. When he looks, he meets Felix’s mischievous eyes, heads level as Felix kneels on the floor by him.
Before Chan can tilt his head in question, Felix’s fingers find his chin, tilting his head up and to the side. Chan goes easily, overtaken with affection when Felix presses their lips together, closed mouth not dulling his intensity. After another second, he feels Felix’s lips coaxing his mouth open, a request he acquiesces to easily. He parts his lips, feels Felix following suit, and then something warm washes over his tongue, making Chan realize what’s happening. Felix is pushing Changbin’s cum into Chan’s mouth, the taste of him dulled by the taste of Felix’s saliva yet still overwhelming. Chan slumps into it, feels a mess of spit and cum leak out of the corner of his mouth.
It’s over far too soon, Felix pulling back when he’s transferred the goods. His intense look doesn’t fade, though. “Don’t swallow it yet, puppy.”
Chan does as he’s told, watching as Felix stands and pushes his sweatpants down, taking out his cock. He’s so visibly hard, so red, Chan wonders if anyone’s touched him yet. If he was waiting for this moment, saving it all for this.
Felix strokes himself once, hissing at the feeling. Chan wants to taste him so badly.
“Can you get on your knees?” Felix asks.
He doesn’t need to be told twice, sliding onto the floor with shaky, eager limbs.
Felix smiles at him when he’s settled, cupping his chin softly. He tilts Chan’s chin up and slips his thumb over his lips. “Open up.”
Chan parts his lips, cum and spit pooled in the back of his mouth. The hand on his chin slips into his hair, holding on gently. Felix works his other hand over his cock quickly, letting out deep, breathy grunts.
It takes no time at all, Felix apparently too pent up to make it last. The hand in Chan’s hair tightens, pulling him forward until he feels the head of Felix’s cock on his tongue. Chan dutifully closes his lips over him and swirls his tongue, letting Felix thrust into his mouth shallowly as he comes, filling Chan’s mouth to the brim.
“Fuck,” Felix growls in English, “fuck, just like that, puppy. Fuck.”
The taste of Felix mixes with the taste of Changbin so intoxicatingly Chan can’t help but groan. More cum leaks out of his mouth and he can’t bring himself to care as it drips onto his chin, his neck, his chest.
Felix exhales, movements slowing to a stop. The hand in his hair relaxes but stays tangled. Felix blinks down at him adoringly as he pulls out, closing Chan’s mouth gently. “Can you swallow?”
Chan does so without a second thought. The smile on Felix’s face is blinding.
“Good boy!” His hand moves to ruffle Chan’s hair, as if he’s petting a real dog. Chan leans into the touch, chest swelling with affection.
The credits play out on screen as Felix’s hands swipe over his skin, attempting to clean the mess on Chan’s face and neck. He only succeeds in making it worse, but Chan appreciates the effort anyway.
It’s Minho who grabs the dirty towel, finding a clean corner to help with the mess. Chan sways on his knees at Minho’s touch, catching himself on the cushion with a deep exhale. He meets Minho’s fond eyes.
“We’re all done. You can speak now.” Minho tells him. “Are you doing okay?”
Chan nods, forcing his throat to work past the raspiness and cum coating it. “Yeah.” He sounds wrecked even to his own ears. “‘M doing perfect. Thank you.”
Minho smiles small. He drops the towel on the floor and unclips Chan’s leash from his collar but makes no move to unbuckle the thick leather. “Go cuddle your dongsaengs.” He gestures to the end of the couch where Hyunjin and Jeongin are lying on each other, a blanket thrown over them. They look sated, happy, lips red and kiss-swollen.
Chan goes.
Hyunjin welcomes him with open arms, pulling him into them easily. Jeongin huffs but says nothing, clearly tired out. They drape the blanket over him, warming him up, but it’s the kisses that Hyunjin drops onto his lips and cheeks that make him feel even warmer. Jeongin even sneaks a kiss in between Hyunjin’s onslaught of affection, a lingering, closed mouth thing.
He knows that soon, one of them (likely Felix, who loves his afterglow cuddles), will come fetch him to bathe with him, knows that he’ll be wrapped in a towel and dragged to cuddle another of them (likely Changbin, or Jisung, or both of them if they want to fall off the bed in the middle of the night) until he falls asleep. But, for now, he lets himself be held and appreciated by Hyunjin and Jeongin, feeling his head clear bit by bit. The pieces of himself come back to him, slotting into place carefully.
Chan sighs, sated. Peaceful. Happy. Loved.