#minchantober

Jeongin leaned forward suddenly from the sofa, his expression unreadable. He reached out and patted Chan’s head, almost sweet. “Not surprised, honestly. This is exactly the kind of thing I’d expect you to like, hyung.”

Chan whimpered again, half-muffled against Minho’s shirt.

Seungmin’s grin was sharp in the dim light as he tugged Jeongin easily into his lap, arms looping casually around the maknae’s waist. His gaze fixed on Chan, amused and predatory. “Well,” he drawled, voice carrying over the hum of the TV, “we’re all here to help now by giving you our full attention, aren’t we?” He leaned back against the sofa, Jeongin squirming in his lap. “So don’t stop on our account.”

Chan’s entire body shuddered at the words, torn between the mortifying heat in his cheeks and the aching, pulsing pleasure low in his gut. His hips jerked helplessly in Minho’s grip, another strangled moan slipping free, too wrecked to fight it anymore.

Minho tightened his arm around Chan’s waist, his other hand still snugly wrapped around his cock beneath the blanket. He wasn’t stroking, not yet. Just holding, squeezing gently every time Chan’s hips twitched forward, keeping him right on the edge of madness.

“You hear that, love?” Minho whispered against his ear, soft enough for only him, though everyone could see the way Chan shivered. “They don’t mind. They’re even encouraging you.” Chan whimpered brokenly, trying to hide his face deeper in Minho’s chest.

Minho didn’t let him. He hooked two fingers beneath Chan’s chin and tilted his face back up, making him face the room. Chan’s eyes were glassy, half-lidded, lips bitten raw. His curls stuck damply to his forehead, sweat beading at his temple.

“Look at you,” Minho murmured with a smirk. “Already falling apart just because they’re watching.”

Chan whined, a sound so high and sweet it made Felix’s cheeks flush deeper against Jisung’s shoulder. His hips bucked helplessly into Minho’s fist, unable to stop himself anymore.

The slap of his cock against Minho’s palm, the faint wet squelch of precum-slick fabric — the sounds weren’t subtle. The TV played on, forgotten, but the living room was filled with the quiet intensity of Chan’s moans and the rhythm of his rocking hips.

Hyunjin licked his lips unconsciously, Changbin shifting beside him in the bean bag. Seungmin’s smirk hadn’t wavered, though his hand had crept lower on Jeongin’s thigh.

Chan’s toes curled against the carpet, his nails digging into Minho’s thigh so hard it had to hurt. His eyes rolled back for a moment, another broken sob slipping free as his body trembled with need.

“You’re gonna cum like this, aren’t you?” Minho teased loud enough for them to hear, stroking him just enough to make his back arch. “In front of all of them.”

“Min, please-” Chan choked, his voice shaking with both shame and want.

And that’s when Jisung’s small voice broke the tension, soft but clear in the thick air. “Minho hyung?” He shifted in Felix’s lap, his dark eyes wide but curious. “Can we see?” The room went even quieter, the weight of the question settling like heat. All eyes flicked from Jisung to Minho, waiting for the answer.

Chan’s whimper at the suggestion was shameless, his whole body shuddering in Minho’s arms. Minho chuckled low against Chan’s ear, his hand still stroking languidly under the blanket. “Did you hear that, baby? Jisung wants to see.”

Chan’s breath hitched, his face burning hot as he buried himself deeper in Minho’s chest. “N-no—”

Minho’s hand squeezed around his cock, making him jolt and cry out. “No?” he whispered with mock surprise. “Funny, because your body doesn’t agree. The mere idea makes you harder.”

Chan whined, nails raking against Minho’s thigh, his hips rutting helplessly into his fist. His voice was ruined, breathless and broken. “I-I can’t—”

Minho’s smirk deepened. He raised his voice just enough for the room to hear, eyes never leaving Chan’s flushed face. “What do you think, love? Do you want them to see you? Not only listen to you whine?”

Chan shook his head, stammering, “I-no-I… I shouldn’t—”

Minho pinched his tip, making him choke on a moan. “Shouldn’t, maybe. But do you want it?”

Chan’s whole body trembled, sweat dripping down his temple, his lip bitten red. His hips bucked once, twice, before the words tumbled out of him in a broken sob. “…yes.”

The room seemed to pulse with heat at the admission. “Good boy,” Minho purred, kissing his temple. He looked up at the others over Chan’s shoulder, his smirk wicked. “You heard him. He wants it. Be gentle or the show's over.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, then Jisung slid off Felix’s lap, kneeling on the floor before them. His hands shook slightly as he tugged the blanket down, exposing Chan’s swollen cock, red and dripping.

Chan whimpered, twisting in Minho’s hold, but Minho only held him steady, whispering, “Don’t hide now. They deserve to see how pretty you are like this.” Minho smiled, brushing his fingers over the flushed head. Chan’s entire body jolted, a sharp cry spilling from him as he nearly doubled over.

Felix was right behind, slipping down next to Jisung. “You’re beautiful like this, hyung,” he whispered, his freckles lit by the TV glow.

On the bean bag, Hyunjin’s chuckle was low and hungry. “Guess our leader’s not as composed as he wants everyone to think.” Changbin hummed in agreement, his sharp gaze never leaving Chan’s flushed face as he shifted forward.

Even Jeongin leaned closer from the sofa, curiosity burning in his eyes, while Seungmin’s smirk only grew, his fingers still tracing idle circles on Jeongin’s thigh.

Chan was surrounded, trembling in Minho’s arms, his cock twitching as Minho's hand wandered further down, circling his fingers against his hole. His voice cracked on a desperate sob, shame and pleasure twisting tight in his stomach. “Min-oh god, Minho~”

Minho’s smirk widened. “That’s it, baby. Lix, Jisung, pull down his pants properly so you can see.”

Jisung’s hands trembled as he tugged Chan's sweats lower, Felix helping to peel the fabric down his thighs. The cool air hit Chan's overheated skin, and he let out a strangled moan.

Chan twisted in Minho's hold, pleasure written all over his flushed face, but Minho's grip around his waist was iron. He kept him still, forcing him to stay open and vulnerable in front of their friends. “There he is,” Minho purred, curling his hand tighter around the base. “My loud, messy boy. Look at how hard you get just from them watching.”

Chan's eyes rolled back as Minho stroked him slowly, dragging slick down his shaft until his thighs trembled. The lewd squelch of it filled the room.

“God, hyung,” Jeongin whispered, eyes wide as he leaned closer, Seungmin’s hands on his own thighs burning.

Minho's smirk was wicked. “That’s it, baby. Don’t hold back. Show them how good I make you feel.”

Chan's whole body shook, sweat dripping down his temples, his nails clawing at Minho's thigh until the skin was bruised.

The others couldn’t look away. Hyunjin had gone still, biting his lower lip, while Changbin’s eyes darkened as he shifted forward in the bean bag. Jeongin leaned over the arm of the sofa, curiosity blazing, Seungmin’s smirk never faltering as his hand now rested on the obvious bulge in Jeongin’s lap. Jisung and Felix couldn't stop staring either.

Chan's toes curled hard against the carpet, his thighs shaking violently. His face was contorted in pure ecstasy, mouth wide open as loud, shameless moans spilled out one after another. “M-Minho-ahh, I-”

“You’re gonna come,” Minho whispered against his ear, his strokes tightening, faster now. “Let them see how pretty you are when you break for me.”

Chan wailed, head snapping back against Minho's shoulder, and then he came violently, thick ropes spilling across his stomach. His entire body convulsed, eyes rolling back, mouth open on a cry that echoed through the dorm.

Minho held him tight, riding out every pulse of his release, keeping him grounded as he shook and shook in his lap. When Chan finally sagged, boneless and trembling, Minho pressed a kiss to his damp temple. “Good boy,” he murmured proudly, loud enough for the room. His eyes lifted and he couldn't deny the kick it gave him to see their closest friends watching with wide, hungry eyes. It was easy to tell the effects it had on them seeing their leader like this and Minho couldn't hide the satisfied little smirk tugging at his lips.

He reached for the tissues on the table and cleaned Chan up gently, tucking him back in and kissing the back of his neck. Chan curled up in his arms, almost shyly meeting the others’ eyes. And what he saw in them told him he'd never have to try and be quiet with Minho in here ever again.

“Well, the show's over,” Minho chuckled and got up, picking Chan up into his arms with a soft grunt. “I’ll go take care of him…you go take care of what this did to you all,” he smirked, ignoring the half-hearted protests. Minho laughed and carried Chan to his room.

The sound of running water soon filled the quiet as Minho turned on the taps, steam curling up in soft waves. When the bath was ready, he helped Chan inside before slipping in behind him, pulling the older boy back against his chest.

Chan let out a long, shaky sigh as the heat enveloped him, the remaining tension bleeding slowly out of his muscles. Minho reached for the shampoo, working it carefully through Chan’s curls in slow, soothing circles. Chan’s eyes fluttered shut, his head tilting back slightly as Minho massaged his scalp, rinsing the lather with gentle fingers. “That’s it,” Minho murmured against his ear, his voice calm and steady. “You did so well today. I’m proud of you.”

Chan flushed, his cheeks warmed by more than just the steam. He turned his head slightly, pressing a shy kiss to Minho’s jaw. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice small, fragile in the safety of Minho’s arms. “For taking care of me.”

Minho’s hands didn’t stop their work, gliding over Chan’s chest and shoulders, rinsing away soap before wrapping his arms fully around him again. “Always,” he answered simply, pressing his lips to the damp curls at the crown of Chan’s head.

When they were clean and warm, Minho helped him out of the bath, drying him off with a towel before leading him to bed. The sheets were cool against their skin as Minho pulled him close, wrapping himself around Chan like a shield. Chan burrowed instantly into the embrace, his face pressed to Minho’s collarbone, his breathing already slowing.

Minho brushed a thumb across his cheek, watching the last of the day’s strain melt away. “Sleep well, my sweet boy,” he whispered against his temple. “I’ve got you.” And with that, Chan let himself drift off, safe and cherished in Minho’s arms.

PART ONE | PART THREE

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