Archive of Our Own ^beta

The last person Minho expected to betray him was Jeongin.

Although maybe he should have seen it coming. After all, he proudly took part in raising the little minx. Teaching him his ways, and all that.

Still, Jeongin’s acting skills had become truly award worthy.

He had looked so fucking innocent when he told Minho that his brother Yongbok wanted to see him, that Minho didn’t even think twice about it. Took the stairs two steps at a time, and didn’t bother to knock.

When Minho enters his brother’s room, however, it’s not Yongbok who is waiting for him.

“Minho! Glad you could make it!”, Chan says with that stupid, bright smirk that irks Minho just the wrong way. He knows this smirk, and none of the times Chan plastered it over his annoyingly attractive face had ended well for him.

His boyfriend is sitting in the middle of his brother’s room on the desk chair, one leg over the other, and fingers tapping against the armrest as if they were itching.

Even without the smirk, though, Minho would have known what was coming for him the second he saw Chan waiting. He’d annoyed the living shit out of his boyfriend for the better part of the last two weeks, and knew a punishment was coming.

Like, yeah, okay, maybe fucking Hyunjin in Chan’s studio and recording the whole thing over Chan’s already finished song went a tad too far.

But Minho didn’t know it would delete the audio file beneath it! He thought he was doing Chan a favour, honestly! Allowing him to listen to Hyunjin beg, and whine, and moan, and let out streams of ‘Your dick is the best in the world, hyung!’

(And okay, maybe, just a little bit, he wanted to show off and annoy Chan.)

Or when he replaced the sugar next to the coffee machine with salt. Chan had been screaming his name for the whole house to hear, and Minho hid inside the washing room for hours.

He swears he just had Chan’s best interest in mind. The man was consuming way too much coffee for his own good and way too much sugar as well. If it was a tiny bit hilarious at the same time, sue him for having fun.

Therefore, really, none of this is Minho’s fault.

Absolutely not.

Maybe just a teensy tiny little bit.

Either way, though, Minho knew he was due for a punishment. Up to this point, however, he’d managed to sneakily avoid being alone with Chan in a room – or even just around him long enough for the elder to get any ideas of publicly punishing him.

So honestly, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Chan resorted to drastic measures: Using their other boyfriends against Minho. Briefly, Minho’s eyes wander over the rest of the room. It’s vacant, the big gaming PC turned off by the desk, and the curtains drawn shut over the window. Only the small lamp on Yongbok’s desk is turned on, bathing the room in a soft glow. The bed is neatly made – and Chan is sitting right in front of it.

Facing it.

Minho’s heartrate slams upwards as if someone stepped on the gas and left him pressed into his seat, when he realizes what that means. His hands go clammy. This won’t end well for him. If Chan is facing towards the bed that probably means he’ll order Minho onto it, and that probably means that whatever he’ll make Minho do will be humiliating to the bone.

Absent-mindedly, Minho wonders where the fuck his brother, the actual occupant of this room, is.

“There’s nothing stopping me from turning around and leaving”, he utters the second he realizes he’s in trouble, voice raspier than he’d like, before he takes a moment to stare at Chan. Really taking in Chan’s look. He’s dressed as nicely as he only is when they’d have anything official going on – or a session.

And, well, the mere fact that Minho is still standing there, ogling his boyfriend in that delicious, dark dress shirt and soft black pants that tighten so nicely around his muscled thighs instead of doing what he announced to do, turning around and leaving, is proof of how fucking attractive it looks.

Maybe Minho’s just going to stay and stare a little bit longer. No harm done. He can leave anytime.

“Mh, I don’t think that’s what you want”, Chan drawls, cocking his head with a glint in his eyes that tells Minho he has something up his sleeve.

Generous, Minho decides to indulge him. He gives his boyfriend a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

Chan flashes something in his left hand, small, and round, and coloured an inconspicuous black with a big button in the middle. His fingers frame it perfectly. “Do you know what this is?”

“What, are you trying to entice me with a vibrating butt plug or something?”, Minho snorts. Obviously, this is a remote control. Minho just can’t quite think of anything Chan would use it for.

With a twitch of his lips, Chan finally leans back into the seat, revealing what’s behind him.

Revealing – Yongbok.

Minho’s little brother is kneeling next to Chan’s chair, naked, wrists tied to his ankles. The only thing he wears is a thick, black collar around his neck.

His flushed body and weeping cock let Minho know that Chan has already played quite a bit with him. Specks of red colour his skin, and little beads of precum have smeared around the length of his dick.

Yongbok’s eyes remain firmly planted to the ground, the pink dust on his cheeks telling Minho he’s incredibly embarrassed that his brother sees him like that.

He looks riled up and messy. Minho’s hands itch to reach out and touch him. He can almost taste Yongbok’s skin between his teeth when his brother looks like that.

“Now any ideas?”, Chan asks innocently. Too innocently. The temperature inside the room seems to drop as they stare at each other, as if Chan’s gaze was an icy mist slowly spreading over the ground.

A cold shudder runs through Minho when he sees the darkened look on Chan’s face. That can’t mean anything good. What has Chan done to Yongbok?

When Minho doesn’t answer, Chan lifts his chin, fingers curling tighter around the remote control until Minho can see his veins protrude. His voice is cold and level when he speaks.

“Watch.”

Chan’s thumb presses down on the button. Immediately, Yongbok seizes with a yell. Noise crackles through the air, static fills the room that makes Minho’s hairs stand up. All alongside a quiet whirring, quickly drowned out by the loud cries that spill from Yongbok’s mouth.

Minho freezes in shock. His limbs are locked into place as Minho’s blood runs cold. Can’t do anything but stare at his little brother in obvious pain.

When Chan lets go, Yongbok slumps forward, body sweaty and hair sticking to his forehead. He’s panting, sniffling quietly, and doesn’t dare to look at Minho’s face.

It takes Minho a moment or two to comprehend the situation. As if part of him refuses to understand what the fuck Chan is doing.

The second he does, he lurches forward. Minho is absolutely furious. His guts burn with anger, because how dare Chan, how dare Chan hurt his brother! He knew Chan was mad at him, but he’s starting to think he underestimated just how mad.

Keeping eye contact as Minho storms forward, Chan presses the button again. Yongbok screams, and Minho stops dead in his tracks, feet rooted in their spot, just inches away from Chan.

The room falls silent, save for Minho’s heavy breaths.

Minho shakes. The message is clear.

Move and I’ll hurt your brother.

“This is how it’s going to go today, Minho”, Chan drawls, playing lazily with the remote control in his hand. Tilted amusement lines his eyes, not even bothering to try to hide how much he enjoys Minho predicament.

His voice seems to rumble against Minho’s eardrums. “You either behave for me, do what I tell you to, and let me have my fun… or your cute little brother here…”, Chan uses his free hand to gently pat Yongbok’s sweaty hair atop his shaking head, “… will be the one paying the price for your disobedience.”

Gulping, Minho stares at Chan, body heaving with a mix of barely suppressed anger… and fear. How dare Chan touch his brother.

Minho doesn’t think he ever felt this angry, not since middle school, when Yongbok was teased for growing out his hair until he was crying and Minho punched one of the guys square across the face for it. Still, he’s frozen in spot, can’t do anything if he doesn’t want Yongbok to go through whatever-the-fuck-this-is again.

“What did you do to him?!”, he growls, fists balled, and eyes burning.

Shit, shit, shit.

He can’t cry, he can’t get too emotional, he needs to calm the fuck down!

Chan, the stupid bastard, smiles calmly. “Mh, you see, it was kind of hard to get my hands on you”, he explains with a drawl. His hand swings the remote control around vaguely. Minho watches it with tense eyes, as if Chan could press the button again at any moment. “You’re a bit… some would say skittish, but I would call it… elusive. Our sweet little Felix however…”

The hand grabs a sudden fistful of Yongbok’s hair, tugging his head up forcefully as Yongbok’s eyes screw shut with the sting and a pained gasp. “…is a little bit too trusting.” Chan’s lips pucker as he coos. “You really should have taught him not to be so naïve.”

When Chan’s gaze snaps to Minho, his eyes burn with the control and power he wields, raising his eyebrow at Minho with barely concealed hunger.

“S-sorry, hyung, I’m so sorry”, Yongbok utters, unable to move, unable to escape Chan. He shifts, but the ropes around his hands keep them firmly attached to his ankles, and there’s nothing he can do.

It tugs on Minho’s heartstrings. His stomach sinks at seeing his brother like this at the same time that warmth spreads in his guts. The air is cool and filled with static, as if the electricity was still zapping through the room.

Seething, Minho trembles all over. He knows what Chan is doing. Trying to make it sound as if this was Minho’s fucking fault. As if Yongbok was in this situation because of him. Minho wants to scream and claw Chan’s face off, but all he can do is stand there and watch. His heartbeat rings in his ears like a siren, while Chan chuckles. The fringe of his hair moves with it.

“It was so easy to tie him up with a few little promises of preparing a special surprise for his precious older brother”, Chan smirks, and Minho’s eyes search for Yongbok’s. They blink back at him, wide and rimmed wet, his adorable freckles all the more prominent with how flushed his skin is. The bleach-blond hair sticks to his face in some places, the rest of it still ruffled through Chan’s hand.

The reddened eyes do things to Minho he doesn’t want to admit. Something dark, and inappropriate, and the air around him suddenly becomes too hot.

Minho gulps.

Chan is using them against each other. Begrudgingly, Minho can admit that the cunning and evilness of his plan is impressive enough to be stupidly attractive. His heartbeat rises the longer he looks at the two of them. The picture they make.

Chan’s dark attire paired with that burning gaze, his hand on Yongbok’s kneeling form as if he was nothing more than a pretty, teary-eyed pet.

Sighing, Chan strokes over Felix’s head in a mockingly soothing gesture. “The poor thing didn’t even know what was happening until I activated the collar the first time.”

The grin on Chan’s face is malicious, bared teeth and darkened eyes, and Minho can’t breathe through the storm of feelings blowing up in his face as he imagines it. His innocent younger brother, looking up at Chan with wide trusting doe eyes as Chan steps back after putting on the collar – only for Chan to shock him with it.

Yongbok must have been sobbing. Must have looked so betrayed.

Minho is angry, and irrationally, insanely turned-on, and his heart is pounding so loud that it’s hard to think.

Shit. What does he do? How does he get out of this mess?

“So, Minho”, Chan continues, unfazed, “naturally, you can leave and let your little brother take the punishment you deserve in your stead. If that’s what you want to do – go. Leave your defenceless little brother in my hands.” His tongue darts out to lick over his lower lip, every word calculated, even as he smiles. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on our sweet Felix just because it’s not his fault. If anything, I’ll do him even harder. He’s such a weak toy, isn’t he? I bet he’ll look so damn sexy when I break him.”

Yongbok whimpers, terrified, and the sound pierces like a knife through Minho’s stomach. The desire to protect is so overwhelming that he almost makes the mistake to move, hands itching to reach out to his brother.

“Or”, Chan continues with a sly smile and a sharp nod to the floor, “you can get on your knees and put on a nice, humiliating show for the both of us. How does that sound?”

“Awful”, Minho rasps, body running hot and cold at the same time as Chan’s laughter rings through the room and vibrates over Minho’s skin. His thoughts and feelings clash into each other. He has a pretty good hunch about what Chan means by that, knows that it’ll probably end with him stuffed full of Chan’s dick and tears running down his face while Yongbok watches.

His eyes snap to his brother, who looks at him with big eyes. Minho’s head goes red. He can’t let Yongbok see him like this. He can’t! He’s the older one, the strong one, he just… can’t.

Minho’s fingernails dig into his palm until the leave little crescents in it.

But what is the alternative? Walking out of this room and letting Chan do God-knows-what to his brother? Minho is sure if he leaves, Chan will punish him twice as hard, just to get back at Minho.

His breath shakes.

Shit.

What does he do?

Chan cackles, breathless and amused. Like someone with so much power that he doesn’t have a care in the world. “My God, you should see your face. You look like a constipated cat. I mean, I knew this was a good plan, but I didn’t know how good it was. You really have no idea what to do, do you?”

Face blowing hot, Minho grits his teeth. He always tries to keep his cool, but there’s just something about Chan, about the things he says and does, that pushes all the right buttons to drive Minho absolutely insane. He’s so fucking angry, and horny, and defiant – but he’s also powerless to fight back.

“I’m giving you three more seconds to decide”, Chan tells him as he leans onto his knees, twirling the remote. “For every moment you need after that, your brother is gonna cry for me.”

Heart pounding in his chest, Minho’s thoughts are racing. For fucks sake, what does he do?

“Three.”

Minho feels frozen, tongue like lead in his mouth. He already knows what he’s going to choose, but he can’t say it, he can’t say it-

“Two.”

“Fuck!”, he exclaims, burying his face in his hands and pulling on his own hair. As if that could help him hide. As if that could help jump-start him into talking.

“One.”

Before Minho can even get another breath out, the whirring sound fills the room again, harsh and unforgiving, and only a moment later, Yongbok yells out. It sounds wretched and broken, torn forcefully from his throat. The sound rattles through Minho’s bones, shakes inside his skull, and Minho drops to his knees.

“Stop!”, he screams, “Stop, stop! I’ll do it, I’ll do it!”

The whirring stops.

The pounding in Minho’s chest does not.

His hands feel clammy, adrenaline racing through his body, as shivers run up and down his spine. The air feels thick, hot and cold at the same time, and Minho is light-headed.

When he looks up, he sees Chan staring down his nose at him with dark eyes. A sick satisfaction lies inside them. As if he’d been waiting for this moment way too long.

Slowly, it dawns to Minho just how riled up Chan truly is. This is not going to end well for him.

His fingers dig a bit deeper into his own skin.

When Chan speaks again, his voice is quieter. All his attention is on Minho now, and the power Chan has over him almost crushes him.

“So, Minho. Since I’m feeling generous, you’ll get one chance to apologize. You’ll still be punished, of course. I can’t let your shenanigans slide, right? But I might just be a little nicer about it… if you can convince me you mean it.” Chan leans back in his chair, one leg across the other, as Minho trembles on his knees before him.

A satisfied smile plays around his lips that makes Minho’s nose scrunch up.

He scoffs. Like hell is he going to apologize! He knows Chan, knows it won’t be done with a simple sorry. No. Chan will make Minho reiterate everything he’s done wrong and promise to never do it again over and over.

And Minho is not a liar (just a convenient truth-bender at times).

When he stays stubbornly silent, Chan sighs loudly, before he swings his leg back to stand up. “Alright. Don’t forget that you made me do this to you, then.”

Chan strides to him with two fast, heavy steps, almost casually gripping a fist full of Minho’s hair. And just keeps on walking towards the bed. The sudden movement tugs on Minho’s head, stings hot like fire as Minho’s body suddenly gets pulled to the side, and he cries out as his knees scramble over the floor to follow.

It effectively has him crawling, not quick enough to get his legs beneath his body and escape the pain at the same time. Before Minho can process it, he’s already kneeling before his brother’s bed.

Chan doesn’t let up, though. Keeps his fingers tight as he tugs upwards, forces Minho to rise. Grunting and squeezing his eyes shut against the sting, Minho has no choice but to be climb up the bed on all fours. With a final, sharp pull, Chan throws Minho flat on his tummy against the sheets.

They are soft beneath his cheek and palms, smell like fresh laundry and a little bit like Yongbok, and Minho grits his teeth as his fingers scrunch up the fabric.

“Stay”, Chan orders sternly, and Minho knows better than to move. He might be facing away from his brother now, but he doesn’t forget about the remote that controls Yongbok. Forced to act as a means to an end. Forced to watch Minho crawl by the feet of his boyfriend.

The air is suffocating, and Minho’s fingers seek for comfort in the soft bed sheets.

Not being able to see the two of them makes matters worse, somehow. He hears rustling as Chan sits back down, and knows both of them are watching him lie on the bed in the middle of the room. Can only imagine the look on Yongbok’s face. Does it turn him on? Or does it weird him out to see his brother submissive like that?

It’s so unusual for them, after all.

Minho is always the strong one, the one in control, and it’s a different kind of humiliating to be taken down a peg in front of his little brother.

“Clothes off, pet.” Chan’s voice is curt, a sliver of amusement tinging it too bright for how agitated Minho feels.

The next gulp feels too close to swallowing his pride.

Wordlessly, Minho sits up to strip out of his shirt, throwing it to the side. He doesn’t dare turn around. Can’t bear to look at Chan’s triumphant smirk that would heat him up all over. Instead, he stares at the wall of pictures above Yongbok’s bed, pictures of them, all eight of them in different combinations, laughing, fighting, posing.

Seeing them remind him unmistakably that Yongbok is watching him, his older brother, strip for the frat leader.

His fingers hook into the rim of his underwear, feeling a bit numb. He tries not to think as he pushes them down with his pants, tries not to imagine the way Yongbok is watching him get naked, treated like a fucking pet.

But most of all, he tries not to think about how his cock is already half-hard, tingling and aching for touch, broadcasting to anyone who cares that Minho is a fucking freak who for some reason gets off on being humiliated so badly.

His thoughts still run wild of course. He feels the eyes glide all over his naked skin, hanging on his ass, and the way his legs flex below it as he not very graciously struggles out of his pants. The clothes rustle in the silent room over his toneless grunts. It heats up his face even more, to know how clumsy he looks, hips shuffling uselessly as he tries not to stand up and take of his pants at the same time.

He kicks the clothes off the bed in an attempt to make his flailing look defiant, but when he does look back to meet Chan’s eyes, the other just grins.

Quickly, the embarrassment takes over again. The air is hot around Minho, too much saliva in his mouth. His eyes are fixed on Chan, so handsome even in the simple chair, one hand atop Felix’s head as if he was a dog sitting by his side. His face is evenly lit, and yet his jaw throws a shadow, dark and sharp.

“Turn.”

The tone in which Chan says it runs a shiver down Minho’s spine. Deep, confident, and absolute. He knows Minho is not dumb enough to disobey on such an easy command.

Look cast down, Minho faces them and folds his legs beneath himself. His hands ball into fists in front of his middle, lightly shielding his cock from view, teeth gritted.

But his mouth fills with saliva at the dopamine running through his body. He hates this as much as he loves it, and the worst part about it is that Chan knows exactly what it’s doing to him. Chan knows him inside and out, knows how to push his buttons and turn Minho’s brain into mush.

Minho sweats harder.

He hears Chan get up, glances at him beneath the black strands of his hair. Watches how Chan strides towards the side of the bed with slow steps, absolutely not intending to let this end too soon.

Minho’s heart accelerates with every fall of his polished shoes on the soft carpet floor, sinking in like they belong there. They spark some memories.

Even though Minho would never admit it in front of the others, he’s made a rather close acquaintance with them already. Chan only wears them indoors, and only for sessions. While he hasn’t forced Minho do something as disgusting as lick them, it’s not like he’s never stepped on Minho with them either.

Which, although Minho will deny this to his dying day, was one of the hottest things Chan has ever done.

Back then, Minho had been shaking against the cold tile floor, already forced deep into submission, the texture of the shoe’s profile digging into his back. Chan stood above him with a calculating look in his eyes, as he pushed him harder into the floor.

The mark had vanished after a couple of minutes, but Chan still has the picture in his phone.

Gulping, Minho wonders what Chan has in store for him this time.

The frat leader reaches towards Yongbok’s nightstand, rummaging around while Minho watches with bated breath. It’s where his brother keeps his toys. His lube, his ropes, every filthy little secret.

Minho knows them well enough. Half of the toys are probably things he gifted his brother – or at least used on him one way or another. Minho usually enjoys searching around in the nightstand for their sessions a great deal.

Not being the one picking things out, however, is scary enough to make Minho’s throat tie up. Chan takes his sweet time to sort through the arsenal of playthings, letting Minho quiver in his spot.

And Minho can’t do anything but wait which will be the weapon of Chan’s choice to thoroughly teach Minho a lesson.

When he’s straightens up, he looks satisfied. A bottle of lube and some dildo bounce onto the bed, before they roll towards Minho. The material is cool against his naked skin. But Minho’s eyes stay fixated on the third item – the paddle Chan puts onto the nightstand with a slow, deliberate thud. His hand lingers for a moment, fingers flexing around the handle, before they release.

A warning.

Minho gulps. It’s not the worst toy Chan could use to hurt him, but the mere fact that it’s there let’s Minho know he’s in for a spanking today, unless he’s on his absolute best behaviour.

And while he did kind of expect that – his eyes find Yongbok’s without his doing. Yongbok, who is still staring at the paddle with something Minho cannot quite read. His big eyes glisten slightly, body still heaving with softened pants, and he looks so beautiful and ethereal something deep inside Minho aches.

He needs to protect Yongbok. Needs to protect this innocent beauty. And the only way to do that is by whatever debauchery Chan has planned.

Heat simmers right beneath Minho’s skin, as if every vessel inside his body was pulsating with treacherous desire.

When he finally looks at Chan, the elder is smirking down on him with an expression that screams power. Minho shudders. Chan is so relaxed, so sure in his position, as Minho’s body tenses up more with every passing second.

The contrast makes it so delicious.

Chan is in control, and Minho is helpless. Chan is dressed nicely, standing, while Minho kneels there on the bed naked, waiting for his next command.

The air in the room is chill. It creeps up Minho’s arms and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Minho tries hard to pretend that is why the shivers on his body don’t seem to subside.

“So, pet”, Chan drawls, leaning into Minho’s space ever so slightly. Minho defiantly stays in place, but his breathing picks up regardless. Without his doing, he inhales the scent of Chan’s cologne mixed with something that’s so distinctly Chan that the combination never fails to make his head spin.

A hand weaves back into his hair, and Minho proudly only winces once before he neutralizes his expression. He doesn’t want Yongbok to see him like this. If Chan wants to punish him in front of his brother, at the very least, he won’t give Chan the satisfaction of humiliating himself with pathetic sounds or expressions.

With a practiced tug, Chan forces him to stare down at the lube and the dildo. A skin-toned monstrosity, unsettlingly realistic with the clean shaped, enlarged tip, and the veins that run down the sides.

Minho doesn’t recognize that one, which probably means it has been a gift of Jisung – a rather recent one, maybe.

On the very bottom, Minho finds the toy flaring into a level plain, a stand of sorts, that’ll allow the toy to stay upright. Minho chews the inside of his cheek. He has a sneaking suspicion what Chan is planning.

With the grip on his hair, Chan forces Minho to look upwards, towards him. “I want you to lean back, so your brother and I have a nice view of you working yourself open for us. Once you’re done, you’re gonna ride that thing.”

Hah. Of course.

Smirking, Minho gives Chan a lazy look. He knew it. “Look at you being so creative”, he says sarcastically.

Chan puckers his lips unimpressed, the dark, amused glint still glowing in his eyes. “Don’t underestimate the simple things, Minho. Make sure to spread your legs nice and wide like a good slut, hm?”

With these words, Chan lets his head fall and walks back towards his chair, settling down comfortably. Both him and Yongbok have an uninterrupted view onto the bed, staring.

Just.

Staring.

Waiting for Minho to move.

And Minho quickly realizes…

Shit.

Chan is right.

The task is simple, but effective. The mere fact that his brother is watching renders Minho absolutely frozen in spot. His insides feel like they are melting into lava, while at the same time, his limbs are in the clamour of an icy chill.

He’s supposed to… to prepare his hole in front of his brother?

Minho isn’t sure Felix has ever witnessed this before. It’s always been the other way around. Their whole life, Minho was the strong one, the protector. Fierce so Yongbok could be weak. His little brother has always adored him, always looked up to him as if Minho was utterly untouchable.

All of his life, Minho acted strong in front of Yongbok. Even when they were on a stupid trip through the forest, on their own, and both of them slipped down a wet hill. Minho’s shin had been bleeding harder than Yongbok’s knee, but he still carried his crying brother all the way home with a cheeky smile on his face, cracking jokes as he gritted his teeth through the pain.

Minho gulps heavily.

Now he’s supposed to toss all of that out of the window?

To allow Chan to humiliate him in front of the one person who was never supposed to see him like this?

His cheeks grow pink, and he stubbornly lowers his head in a try to hide. That only makes him stare at his hands, though, still shielding his hard cock away from the world.

Because somehow, that is even worse. That despite all of that, despite how much the thought of opening himself up in front of Yongbok makes him a little bit nauseous, he still likes it.

Minho can’t take his hands away from his cock and reveal it to the room.

Just… can’t. Can’t let them see. Because that would mean admitting that he’s hard beneath them, that he’s turned on by being rendered so powerless with such a stupid, clever plan.

“Come on, Minho. Get started. On your back, legs wide, finger your pretty hole open for me.” Chan’s voice is dripping with his own arousal, and a dangerous hit of impatience.

Minho starts sweating. His eyes fall to Yongbok again, who looks at him with an almost pleading expression. Biting his lip, Yongbok’s gaze flickers to Chan for a second, almost as if checking on the predator in the room. Saying, please hyung, don’t provoke him.

As if reading their thoughts, Chan casually gives a press to the button of the remote. Felix yells out, once, loud, sharp – the shocks gone a lot quicker than before. Minho’s heart seems to be torn apart in the war of feelings inside him.

This was a mere warning, a taste of what is to come.

If Minho doesn’t comply, Yongbok will pay the price for it. Throat tied up, Minho tries to calm his breathing.

He wants to pretend it’s not a big deal to reveal himself. To finger himself open while his little brother is watching, and pretend not to enjoy it.

But fuck, it is. It’s a huge fucking deal and Minho moves on stiff legs, until he manages to grab the bottle of lube with one hand, the other still firmly planted over his crotch.

Hiding the shameful truth beneath it. Minho’s head tingles as the bedsheets shift beneath him, their rustling quiet over his hard breathing. He licks his lips, clutching at the bottle as if holding on to a lifeline.

“Good”, Chan praises, and for some reason, that only makes Minho more ashamed. “Now lay down and spread your legs for us.”

For us. Not for me. For us.

So Yongbok can see, too.

Minho can’t breathe, let alone move. He’s frozen, one hand firmly on the bottle, the other squeezing his cock so hard it hurts, but even that doesn’t help to ground him.

“A-ahh!”

Yongbok’s broken scream rings through the room, and Minho’s eyes flicker to his brother, twitching with the electricity, straining against his binds with all his might. But he can’t get away. His muscles are taut, neck flexing beneath the collar, his beautiful red lips parted in a cry.

Sweat glistens all over his body, sparkling in the dim light of the room, sticks his hair to his forehead.

Minho’s breath is stuck in his throat. Like his lungs have forgotten how to expand. Seeing his brother hurt, writhing like this, triggers two emotions at the same time. Part of him aggressively wants to protect. Wants to punch Chan square in the face for hurting his little brother.

But the other, darker side of him is drunk on the sight.

On the fact that Yongbok is taken apart for him, that his brother’s pretty, innocent eyes are twisted shut with the shock, body straining and twisting in a way that has something sensual and alluring.

“Tick, tock, Minho. You don’t want poor Felix here to suffer further, right?”, Chan comments, but Minho hardly hears him over the rushing of his ears. He’s shaking while his insides are at war, body flooded with hormones that make everything feel warm and slow.

When the words register, the guilt that coldly spreads through Minho’s body makes him nauseous. At least it finally spurs him into movement.

He leans back, bringing his knees up to cover his body, and… staring at the ceiling helps a little. At the blank white above the bed, the little stars Yongbok put there, that let Minho forget the two other people in the room. He can do this.

It’s not like he’s never done this in front of Chan before. Chan loves watching, has ordered Minho to make himself come for his viewing pleasure often enough that Minho knows the drill. Afterwards, more often than not, Chan just gave him a deep, passionate kiss, thanked him – and left.

Without getting off.

Something about it always has Minho even more turned-on and unsettled. Like his pleasure is truly nothing but entertainment for Chan. Like him coming undone is just a nice little show, like Minho is the slave and Chan the master, at the same time that Chan is a servant and Minho the God he’s devoted to. Like merely watching Minho dissolve into pleasure is enough to satisfy him while somehow, it leaves Minho wanting.

This time, Minho plans to make it mechanical, when he pops open the cap of the lube. He’ll just get this punishment over with. He can do that. All he has to do is get himself open enough to somehow fit that big dildo inside.

And ignore the fact that his brother will be watching all of it.

Minho’s heart beats faster.

Fiddling with the bottle, Minho tries to guess the dildo’s size. Two fingers might be enough. He can do with a bit of stretch. Always likes it when Chan doesn’t prepare him quite as thoroughly, and it overwhelms him right off the bat.

Pointedly avoiding to look at Chan’s face, Minho crunches up a bit and squirts some lube onto two fingers. His hand lingers by his crotch for a moment, knowing he’ll have to spread his legs if he wants to reach his hole. All of his body tenses up, clenching around nothing at the mere thought, ashamed.

His toes curl, but Minho manages to shuffle his legs just wide enough to reach past his leaking cock and down to his entrance with his wet fingers. The first touch is cold, and utterly humiliating.

Chan chuckles. “Two? Already? Wow. You’re so easy, aren’t you? Bet one doesn’t even make you feel a stretch anymore.”

Face blowing red, Minho pauses. Chews on nothing as he tries to come up with a smart remark. “The sooner this is over, the better”, is what he ends up with.

It’s dissatisfying. He’s usually so witty, but something about the way Chan handles him in situations like these renders him… well. Out of his depth. A bit dumb.

“Sure, if that’s what lets you sleep at night”, Chan retorts. “And now come, spread your legs properly. I want to see it all. Unless you want me to make your brother sing for me again. He sounds so pretty, doesn’t he?”

Heating up all over, Minho’s fingers shake where they are paused pressing at his entrance. Even that little touch feels almost overbearing, electric, makes him needy for more.

With a deep, calculated breath, he shuffles his feet a bit further apart, blinking a couple of times before he gathers the courage to send Chan a questioning look. He can do this. He’ll do just enough to satisfy Chan. He’ll just get this over with.

Chan watches him with blown, hooded eyes. The desire inside them is palpable. It slams into Minho like a pulse of gravity. Traces up his exposed hole towards his body, and Minho can only imagine what a picture he must make. His skin so heated already, hair probably a mess.

“Spread them wider, baby, come on. You have such a nice ass, don’t you wanna put it on display for hyung?” The tone Chan uses sounds absolutely filthy, and the unexpected fondness in his words only gives Minho whiplash.

Caught in confusion, he obeys. Spreads his legs wider, until his feet are planted firmly apart, and Chan has a nice view of his hole and the two fingers still resting above it.

With a slow exhale, Chan leans forward, almost as if he wants to look closer, and Minho licks his lips nervously. The attention does something to him. “Now push them in. Slowly. Go real slow, baby.”

Teeth digging into his bottom lip, Minho does. Applies pressure until the furled skin gives way, and his fingers are engulfed by a sudden heat. The stretch is bordering on too much, just right to feel nice and full, but wet enough that it doesn’t hurt.

Minho bites his lip harder to stifle the moan that drags up his throat. He can’t break this easily. The mere thought of Chan hearing him moan as he stuffs his greedy ass with his own fingers makes every inch of him run hot, hole clenching down hard.

“Good job, pet, stretch yourself open for me”, Chan’s voice praises deeply, resonating in Minho’s guts.

Shoving his fingers a bit deeper, Minho tries to scissor them to his best ability, purposefully avoiding his prostate. He’s already so on edge, he doesn’t think he can control himself if he presses against it.

Still, the angle is terrible. There’s little control over how deep his fingers go, as Minho works himself open slowly and steadily. It is bound to happen – Minho brushes against his prostate. Immediately, the breath rushes out of him, thighs shaking as a flurry of sparks dances in his veins.

For a moment, he just stares at the ceiling, trying hard to level his breathing. Counts the little star stickers to distract himself from the fact that both of them have seen it. How easily affected he is by this situation.

Minho’s face grows so hot he feels like it’s going to explode. He hates it. Why does Chan have to be right? Why does he fall apart with something so simple?

Shaking, Minho pulls his two fingers out of himself. He doesn’t care if it’ll be too little preparation. He’ll rather have the stretch burn a bit than continue like this.

“Oh?”, Chan makes, and Minho presses his prickling eyes shut as if that could drown out his voice, “are you already done? I underestimated how eager you are to get fucked, baby.”

“’m not”, Minho protests breathlessly, even though Chan’s tone makes it obvious that he knows. He’s teasing Minho, pushing all his buttons.

And the worst thing about it is: It’s working.

Minho feels small. Dumb. Ashamed.

He doesn’t know what to do, helplessly tensing his thighs.

Chuckling quietly, Chan starts carding his hand through Yongbok’s hair. “It doesn’t matter. Sit up. I want to watch you sink down nicely onto that thick cock.”

Fuck. Minho’s whole body is at war. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to let them see him sit down on a dildo, it’s too embarrassing. But he also can’t let Yongbok suffer his punishment. Out of all the things Chan has punished him with, this must be the worst.

He moves sluggishly when he sits up, purposefully avoiding to look at either of them. Still, his eyes stray. Catch Yongbok staring at him.

Immediately, his brother looks caught, gaze darting down with rapid blinking. Both of them blush, and Minho never quite seems to lose the shake in his limbs as he reaches for the dildo. He sees Yongbok’s eyes straying towards it, head going even pinker.

And that’s when Minho thinks – this is his brother’s toy. Yongbok probably has used this before. Knows how it feels, knows what Minho is going to feel in a second. And Minho will know what Yongbok has felt.

He can’t help but imagine it. How Yongbok lay down on his bed, hands shaking with excitement, before he pushed that thing inside of him. Whining and begging someone who’s not even there to fuck him harder, faster.

Twisted curiosity wins out over the embarrassment as Minho tilts the bottle of lube, and squeezes some over the toy. It’s rather big. About as big as Chan, and Minho wonders what it’ll feel like to ride this.

The lube hits it wet and luscious, makes the tip of it glisten almost like a true cock smeared with precum.

“Put it in the middle of the bed”, Chan instructs, leaning onto his knees as if he just had to watch this more closely. His eyes are glowing. “God, you’re gonna look so hot sitting on it.”

Sheepish, Minho does as he’s told, trying not to let Chan know how much his words affect him. Praise, for some reason, hits him harder than the degradation. Minho just places the dildo onto its stand in the middle of the mattress before he lifts on his knees, right above it. The sheets rub against his shins, soft, too hot.

He has to reach behind himself to keep the toy in place, the other hand still atop his hard cock, as if that could preserve even just a little bit of dignity.

When the cold plastic nudges against his hole, Minho’s breath hitches. He can’t wait. He wants it inside. Wants to feel it stretch him. Even though he’d never admit it.

His heart pounds against his eardrums as he slowly lowers himself, a soft moan slipping out as his breath flutters.

“Shit, that’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good for me”, Chan says, palming one hand over his tented crotch.

The sight is so fucking hot that Minho feels all like the desperate thing Chan made him out to be. His muscles shake as he lets his weight pull him down. The dildo breaches him slowly, pushes his wet walls apart, the fat tip stretching him so much more than his fingers have.

“A-ah”, Minho moans brokenly, already dazed by how good it feels.

Minho’s legs tremble beneath him, still aching from his last dance training, and he rushes down quicker than he means to. The sudden intrusion of that whole fucking thing knocks the air from his lungs, and he shakes atop of it as the room starts spinning.

The dildo rests deep inside him, pressing at his walls unforgiving and unmoving.

Minho feels so full.

Sweat breaks out over his body as it’s trying to cope with the sensations slamming into him, the deep pressure that seems to spread through his guts, their eyes on him, and his aching cock that is begging Minho to finally move his hand, give himself just a little bit of stimulation.

Chan watches him closely. Every little twitch, every heaving breath, every overwhelmed flutter of Minho’s lids. He feels so unsettled already, and Chan has not even touched him.

“Mh, that’s it, pet”, Chan murmurs over his laboured breathing. “You look prettiest when you’re ruined.”

Minho chokes on his next inhale, humiliation crushing him. The worst part is how warm he feels from the praise, condescending as it is, the stark contrast between the two drowning him.

“Don’t you agree, Felix?”, Chan suddenly asks, tone light, gentle, and Minho-

Minho’s heart stops for a moment.

His eyes snap to his brother without meaning to, realizing Yongbok watches him. Not just that. He’s hard, the tip of his little cock glistening wet, and his eyes are burning as he watches his hyung tremble on the biggest dildo he’s ever used.

As soon as he’s caught, Yongbok goes a bright red, lowering his head to stare at the floor.

But only a second later, it snaps up again with a cry. Yongbok seizes. Chan has his chin propped up on one hand, looking at him with an amused smile on his face. “Why don’t you answer my question, baby?”

Yongbok is still shivering with the literal aftershocks of the collar, jaw stiff when he opens his mouth to speak through clenched teeth. “Yes, hyung. He’s-“, his voice breaks, deep, rough, but so vulnerable that Minho wants to punch Chan and break Yongbok down further at the same time.

But then Yongbok heavily looks at him again. The air stills.

“He’s pretty like this.”

Minho can’t breathe. Everything around him is thick and too warm, and his heart beats so fast it drowns out any other noise.

He tries to swallow the excess drool in his mouth, but his throat is tied up.

“That’s right”, Chan agrees, still in that calm, soft tone that doesn’t let on what he’s doing to the both of them. “Bet you never saw him like that before, hm, Felix? Pathetic and messy. Bet he always acted all strong and aloof. But look at him now. That’s what he really is. A little slut that talks big… but shuts up the second he’s filled. He’s just a shaking, needy mess now. Can you even move, Minho? Or are you too pathetic for that?”

Minho wants to tell Chan to shut up. Wants to say all kinds of things. But he can’t think, and his tongue won’t move. He’s doomed to sit there, filled as much as his body can take, and let Chan talk down on him like that.

In front of his brother.

Cold sweat clings to Minho’s body. He shivers again, and something inside him clicks.

As if finally, something new activates. As if the defensive walls around him slowly start to crumble. They don’t fall, not yet, because they never quite do until Chan tears them down with his raw hands – and Minho likes the feeling of that way too much to just hand himself over.

“You get it now, don’t you, Minho?”, says Chan, dark eyes focused on him. Always on him. Tracing every reaction, and every twitch of Minho’s fingers. “I’m in control of you. You do as I say, and you have no right to refuse.”

Another shudder wrecks Minho. His mouth is filled with too much saliva, and he swallows it down.

Then, slowly, shakily – he nods.

Chan doesn’t praise him for it. Doesn’t give him the good boy Minho will never admit he yearns to hear. He’ll have to earn that.

Shifting his weight in the chair, Chan cocks his head. A smirk runs over his face, detached but curious. “I think it’s time you show us what you’ve been hiding, baby. Hands on your thighs. And keep them there.”

Another shiver runs down Minho’s spine. His face feels too hot and cold at the same time, as if he was burning up while little pinpricks of ice dance over his skin. He can’t take his hands away.

It’s too humiliating. Yongbok will see that he’s hard, despite the situation, despite being in a submissive position. His little brother, who is supposed to look up at him. To only see him at his strongest.

But he also…

He also wants to be good. Wants to ruin himself for Chan.

Even if that means that his little brother will see that he’s a cockslut.

With a deep, shaking breath, Minho focuses on the sheets as he moves his hands. They land on his thighs, palms too hot against the sensitive skin there, and Minho’s fingers dig into his own legs, scared they’ll snap right back otherwise.

His cock rests heavy between his legs, so hard that it stands up proudly against his stomach. It twitches when Minho clenches around the toy inside himself and Minho hisses at the feeling.

He traces the little ridges in the blanket to distract himself from the overwhelming heat that fills his body. Shame and arousal run through him at the same time, making it impossible to think.

“Good boy”, Chan murmurs, finally, and Minho shudders.

He can’t look at Chan, but his tone is so warm, so proud, that it almost makes the humiliation worth it.

“See, you can do it if you want to”, Chan continues mockingly, and Minho risks a careful look upwards. Chan’s free hand is placed in Yongbok’s hair, carding through it. He’s leant back in the chair, legs open, allowing Minho a nice view of the outline of Chan’s cock still trapped inside his pants.

Minho will never admit that he almost drools looking at it. That his hole clenches around the toy that suddenly feels so inferior compared to how hot Chan’s dick would feel inside of him. That he wants to crawl over and settle on Chan’s lap, to ride him until both of them are a blissed-out mess.

Chan smirks at him as if he knew exactly what he’s thinking, and Minho’s eyes quickly settle back on the edge of the bed. “Now, pet. Put on a nice show, yes? Keep your hands right where they are and show me what those hips can do.”

Minho’s breath keeps shaking.

His eyes meet Yongbok’s for a moment and that’s a mistake. Big, brown eyes blink back at him, wide and innocent.

And it’s fucking hot – but it’s also his brother.

Minho can’t ride a cock in front of his brother.

He can’t.

Hecanthecanthecant.

Minho is still looking at him when Yongbok’s eyes suddenly scrunch up with a yell, body falling forward as much as his restraints allow him, limbs twitching with the electricity running through it.

Yongbok sobs when the shocks subside, eyes reddened when he looks at Minho again. Dark, twisted feelings suddenly spread throughout Minho’s stomach.

He’s angry. Angry at Chan who is hurting his little brother, who dares to lay a finger on what only Minho can ever touch.

But that’s not the only thing he feels. Yongbok… Yongbok looks so damn pretty.

When he cries.

When his face goes red, and his freckles become stronger. His lips hang open, wet and glistening, and inviting. He looks so pretty when he’s hurting.

“I don’t like repeating myself, Minho”, Chan says, voice vibrating through the room as the air thickens.

Minho’s whole body quivers.

When Minho still doesn’t move, another shock runs through Yongbok, seemingly even stronger than the last one. Yongbok’s body whips forward, shaking as he cries, this time for real. Thick tears run down his cheeks as he looks up again, begging with his eyes.

“Hy-yung, please, please, just do what he says, please”, Yongbok sobs, and Minho-

Minho can’t function.

Noise fills his head with the desperate need to punish whoever dares hurt his little brother, raging with the urge to protect him.

The knowledge that the only way to protect him is to do as Chan says is deafening. And beneath it all, a different sensation lingers. The arousal of seeing Yongbok’s innocent, pretty face stained with tears, eyes red, and lip quivering.

He’s always been such a pretty crier. When the tears collect in his lashes, thick and glistening, and his full lips are bitten raw from trying to hold it in.

Minho wants to keep him right there. Right on the edge, where he doesn’t realize Minho is doing it on purpose, but hurts for him all the same.

The guilt ties up his throat when he waits for a moment longer and is rewarded with another scream when Chan activates the collar. Shaking, Minho moves into action, but his limbs don’t feel like his own.

He heaves up, the sensations of that big thing moving inside of him snapping through him. He truly stretched himself enough for it to be not painful, but God, it fills him out so well. When Minho slowly rolls his hips, he feels the thick plastic deeper inside of him than anatomically possible, as if it would light up nerves right inside his core, and Minho couldn’t have stopped the breathy moan that fans from his lips if he tried.

The shame slams into him like a heatwave, right into his chest, into his lungs.

Chan does everything in his power to make it worse, of course. “That’s it, pet, make yourself feel good. So nice when you’re stuffed full, isn’t it? Come on, I know you like to ride it, show me how much. Let your precious brother see that you’re drooling for treatment like that.”

The words rise to Minho’s head like steam, clouding everything. He can’t think anymore, only feel, and what he feels is so overwhelming that he can’t even begin to dissect it. His body runs hot with arousal, he’s so horny that his hips move on their own, grind down harder onto that thing inside him that fills him up so well.

At the same time, he knows his brother is watching, and doesn’t want to allow himself to enjoy it. His hips stutter in their usually smooth grind, and Chan clicks his tongue.

“That’s so embarrassing, Minho. You said riding the dildo was simple, right? Mocked me for it. And now you can’t even do that?” With a swing of his legs, Chan gets up from the chair again, leaving Yongbok to watch them with wide eyes. He strides towards the bed, until he stands right beside Minho, and leans down to his ear.

“Pathetic. But what did I expect from such a disobedient, incapable pet? You always need your master to help, don’t you?” The hot breath fans over Minho’s neck, dangerous, gleaming, and Minho feels saliva gather in his mouth.

“S-stop calling me that”, he forces out. He tries to sound unnerved, but the breathlessness makes it sound weak.

“Why?”, Chan asks, grinning as he gestures to Yongbok. “Your brother might be the one wearing the collar. But you…”

Leaning towards him, Chan tips his chin up with two fingers. Warm fingers, too close to Minho’s throat. The grin on Chan’s face shows off his teeth. “You’re the one doing all the tricks at the simple press of a button. Pet.”

Minho whines, eyes screwing shut so hard that white dances in front of his eyes. When he blinks them open again, all he can see is Chan. His pale face against his dark hair and clothes, shadows framing his strong features.

As if to demonstrate, Chan glances to the lifted remote control in his hand. “You might think you’re successful when you try to pretend, but you’re so obvious, Minho. I know you love it. I know you can feel it deep inside you, know that you’re a greedy slut and can’t wait to make yourself come on it. So ride that cock like I know you want to.”

Tight fingers curl around Minho’s biceps, and force him down.

“Ch-channie”, he whimpers, but Chan doesn’t show any mercy. Roughly moves him back and forth, until the dildo grinds right against Minho’s prostate.

Murmurs into his ear like he’s trying to get his voice into Minho’s head.

“Come on, baby. Show me how sexy you look when you roll those hips. Just imagine you’re sitting in my lap, you can do that, right? You’re not completely useless, are you?”

Hiccupping, Minho blinks against the tears that come from the sheer overwhelmingness of the situation. He nods, fingernails digging into his thighs to ground him. The warm pressure of the hand on his arm helps, too, and Minho stares at the bedsheets as he starts moving.

As he tries to forget that his little brother is watching, and tries to really put on a show instead. He circles his hips, and throws his head back when that thing vibrates against his prostate. Minho’s mouth falls open with a broken breath.

All of his focus is on his task right now, and he does as Chan suggested: Imagines this is him, imagines it’s just the two of them, and he’s sitting in Chan’s lap, and Chan’s hands are on his hips. Not guiding him, just resting there as Minho moves atop him and drives both of them absolutely insane.

It feels incredible. It feels like someone turned Minho’s insides into molasses, like every nerve of his body lights up with the sweet pressure.

The hand on Minho’s shoulder disappears as Chan whispers a last “Good.”

It’s such a simple word, but it makes Minho shiver violently on the dildo, bracing his hands on his knees as he starts lifting his body up. And slams it back down. He groans loudly, eyes closed and nose clogged with the scent of sex and arousal. Then, he does it again.

Again.

Mindlessly chases the pleasure of being filled so thoroughly, of controlling every movement and yet not having a single ounce of power over his own body.

“Feels good, hm, baby?”, Chan asks once he’s back in his chair, lounging like a king in front of a feast. Minho can barely get his eyes open, swallows around the spit in his mouth.

“Y-yes, hyung, fuck, I-“

Minho doesn’t know how to end that sentence. It takes all his focus not to look at his little brother, not to think about how he’s watching him. But even with all his might, Minho also can’t stop himself from thinking about it.

His head starts spinning real hard, knowing that Yongbok sees him like this, out of breath, debauched, going dumb on a thick piece of plastic.

Breath hitching, Minho grinds down on it harder to smother every last thought in his head.

It works for a bit. Minho hears his own soft moans echo through the room, watches how the bulge in Chan’s pants seems to grow bigger the more he does, and moves on the dildo as if he was on a stage, putting on a show. He rolls his body in a way that he knows looks good, long waves down from his chest all the way to his hips. Lets his head fall back when the stimulation is just right and quickly gets closer to his release.

But of course, his thoughts stray again. Race back towards his little brother that always admired him, how he suddenly sees him like that – and immediately, Minho regrets every single one of the last few minutes where he just let himself go.

His body still rushes with the endorphins. They flood his body like a drug, every single vessel filled with a warm pulse. But Minho is so overwhelmed he can’t bring himself to move any more. He’s mortified. Shakes, as his body falls forward and he braces himself on his hands.

The dildo is long enough to stay inside him regardless, presses right against Minho’s sweet spot, and treacherous, torturous pleasure spreads deep in his guts until Minho can’t help but moan pathetically.

Through it all, Chan watches. How Minho ruins himself on a piece of plastic. How he loves it and hates it at the same time, just as he loves and hates the alternative of Yongbok being hurt in his stead.

Chan’s eyes are incredibly calculated as Minho starts to shake, as the carefully crafted stony exterior he carries aches and groans as it starts tumbling down.

Cold sweat clings to Minho’s skin, and his head feels as if it’s about to explode.

Still, Minho clearly hears it when Chan hums gently and speaks over his loud breathing.

“Did you know I had that one custom made?”, Chan asks, and nods to the dildo Minho is half-sitting on.

The words echo through the room for a moment.

Custom. Made.

Freezing, Minho’s breath shakes even harder with the immediate realization. His hole clenches down on the toy as if to confirm it, to test the ridges and size that felt way too familiar.

Grinning darkly, Chan leans forward. One of his eyebrows is cocked as his tongue wets his lower lip. Like a hungry animal preparing to sink its teeth into prey. “Exactly, baby. This one’s a one-to-one replica of my dick. Doesn’t it feel good? Now I can watch you ride my cock without lifting a finger.”

Shame flares inside Minho like a wildfire. It burns through him and consumes everything in its wake.

He doesn’t know why that makes it worse, but it does. To know that he is basically riding Chan’s cock while Chan is sitting over there, watching him do it. To know that Chan has a perfect view of how it wrecks him, without a chance to hide his face in Chan’s shoulder, or throw his head back to hide how good he truly feels.

To know that he’s gotten off on that dildo, drooling about how good it feels, all while Chan knew it was his, his cock that makes Minho feel so good.

To know that Yongbok has been witness to all of that.

Chan tears out brick after brick from the walls Minho has built around himself, the pride he holds so dearly to his heart. He tears it apart until Minho feels frail and vulnerable, shaken to his very core.

His hips stutter downward with a hitched sob, running another rush of pleasure all the way down to his toes. Minho feels almost nauseous as he rides the replica of Chan’s dick, while Chan watches him with burning eyes and fingers so firmly clawed around the armrest that his knuckles whiten out.

“Aw, is it too much?”, Chan asks, voice soft but with enough roughness to it that it makes the hairs on Minho’s neck stand up. “Do you finally feel punished, Minho? Do you finally regret what you did?”

There’s no way Minho can answer. His tongue wriggles around uselessly inside his mouth, as his mind searches through the sea of clashing hormones for words, something smart, something helpful to say.

He doesn’t find anything. His eyes burn so bad.

The next time he blinks, an overwhelmed tear runs down his cheek, and Minho quickly lowers his head as the embarrassment pulsates warmly with every heartbeat.

It’s as if his inner defences are shaking with them, and one more word from Chan lets them crash loudly.

“Apologize”, Chan orders, calm but firm.

Minho swallows around the big lump in his throat, down the burning heat that simmers in his stomach. “I-I… I’m sorry.”

It’s hardly audible, choked up as Minho desperately moves on the dildo inside him, completely out of instinct. Trying to make himself feel good when he feels so overwhelmed with everything. Endorphins rush his veins.

“Sorry for what?”, Chan prompts. Minho clenches around the intrusion inside of him, too big to form any clear thought.

Yongbok watches him with wide eyes. Probably shocked that Minho would ever apologize to someone like that. With a broken voice, and a shaking body, silent tears slowly dripping into the bedsheets.

Minho’s tongue moves as if that could alleviate the tightness in his throat. He’s not exactly sure what Chan will want to hear, but something deep inside him desperately wants to try. Wants to please. Chan just needed to uncover it.

“S-sorry for the thing with the salt”, Minho mumbles, heart thrumming with the desire to be praised for actually apologizing.

Chan isn’t that nice, though.

“And?”

“A-and for… for recording Hyunjin.”

Silence stretches through the room.

Still no praise. Something tugs inside Minho, makes him ache deeply, turned on and needy and itching. Chan only hums, thoughtful, as if it didn’t take him torturing Yongbok to make Minho say these things.

“Apologize for being such a handful, Minho. For being such a needy brat that you can’t just ask for rough treatment, but have to go out of your way to get under my skin until I push you down with force.”

Heat pulsates in Minho’s cheeks. They burn, and he is pretty sure he has chewed his lower lip raw. His eyes find Yongbok’s, who stares at him, in something like excitement, sick anticipation for Minho to humiliate himself further.

His brother’s face is just as flushed as Minho’s whole body feels, and Minho can hardly breathe.

The air around them is sticky, the atmosphere smothering.

Minho can’t stop his heart from hammering or his hands from digging into his thighs as he tries to rush it out. “Sorry for being such a-“

He breathes, deeply. It’s as if there’s something inside of him blocking the words, like a boulder Minho is hammering against uselessly. “Suchabrat”, he rushes out, and makes the mistake of looking at his younger brother.

The one who always looked up to him.

Yongbok is looking down on him now.

Minho closes his eyes.

“A needy brat”, Chan corrects. “And apologize to Felix as well. Tell him you’re sorry you’re such a dumb whore. Such a sorry excuse for a brother. That you just need to be punished and can’t communicate it, so he’s been the one to suffer the consequences of your actions.”

The words hit Minho like a brick in the face. He chokes on his next breath, heart hammering against his larynx as if trying to crush it.

“N-no, please, please, hyung, I c-can’t-“

Chan activates the collar. Yongbok cries through gritted teeth. Sobs when the whirring dies down.

Minho’s face burns. His cock is dripping precum onto the mattress and the knot inside Minho’s stomach coils tighter. He has no idea whether it’s his own humiliation or the way Yongbok’s muscles and blood vessels protruded when he strained against his bonds.

Tried to get away, only to fail, and fail, and fail again, helpless under Chan’s control.

Ashamed, Minho turns his head away.

“Say it.”

The order is inescapable, and Minho can’t breathe.

“H-hyung… hyung, please, just say it, please don’t make him hurt me more, please” Yongbok’s choked whimper fills the air, pleading, begging Minho, and Minho feels so, so, so fucking guilty for loving how it sounds. For biting his lip to stop his instincts to protect from taking over as he looks at Yongbok in pain.

Once more. Just once more.

The guilt drowns Minho alongside the all-encompassing arousal when Chan presses the button again and Yongbok cries brokenly. Fights the iron grip of ropes around him, until his throat is raw and he just quivers in his bonds. When it’s over, he’s sobbing, a string of pleas running out of his mouth, drool dripping down his bitten lips.

Chan leans onto his knees, eyes firmly trained on Minho with the hint of a smirk. His voice is as smooth as his satin shirt when he speaks.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Minho. I know you like this. I know you love seeing him like this. Are you going to come if I keep pressing that little button? Hm? If I push a little further? He sounds so sweet when he’s in agony, doesn’t he?”

Minho’s tongue barely moves. He can’t breathe. Think. Hear. “I-I-“

“It’s okay, baby, I know how much you love it. How fucked up you are when it comes to your brother.”

Every single one of Chan’s words feels like another icy stab into Minho’s gut. He’s getting light-headed, mind wiped of its thoughts, no weapons to protest.

Because he is, isn’t he? A little fucked up. Maybe a lot fucked up.

There’s just something about Yongbok. About having his younger brother so dependant on him, looking up at him with those big, tear-rimmed eyes, that gets Minho going.

He feels so, so sick for it, but that doesn’t change anything.

Minho shakes.

“So go ahead, Minho”, Chan orders, unimpressed by the way Minho quivers hard enough to make the bed shake with him. “Say sorry to Felix that you’re such a shitty older brother. Tell him that next time, you’ll fucking ask for a rough treatment when you’re getting greedy again.”

There’s too much saliva in Minho’s mouth. It hangs open, harsh pants falling over it, and he can’t think, he can’t hear his own thoughts, only hears the echo of Chan’s words.

“S-sorry for-“, Minho starts, and chokes. He chokes on his own words, as if his throat just closes up. Can barely breathe.

And then tears run down his face. Hot against his prickling skin, dripping down steadily. “being-“

He can’t say it. Can’t admit it.

Hates it and feels the arousal thrum in his veins regardless, clenches around the dildo in his ass that pushes so good against his prostate and feels so fucking ashamed it’s unbearable. “-such a sh-shitty brother.”

The words are smothered by how clogged up his voice sounds, but Minho hears them. Minho hears his own voice say them, and it’s weird to hear them, because he-

He knows he’s not, he knows Yongbok loves him, but at the same time-

He knows how fucked up he is. And he-

Maybe he really is shitty, he’s certainly not good for wanting to see his brother cry for him, so-

Hands cup his face.

Minho hasn’t even noticed Chan has gotten up, much less bridged the distance to him. Chan’s hands against his cheeks are warm and comforting, slightly calloused, but they hold him gently, as if Minho is the most precious flower vase he has ever held.

Minho’s heart stops beating as he blinks against the steady stream of tears.

Up at Chan’s face, at his dark, burning eyes staring Minho down, as he stands there tall and powerful. Looks down at Minho with a heat that includes a steady warmth. Something to hold on to. Something to catch every piece of him.

“Good boy.”

Minho shatters. He sobs, loud, and quivers inside Chan’s hold. “I’m sorry, hyung, I’m sorry for not asking for a punishment, I’m sorry!”

He hiccups pathetically while Chan watches him and slowly wipes away a few of the tears with his thumbs, cooing. “There you go. You just need me to wreck you sometimes. You’re doing so well. Hyung knows what you need. Gonna let me take control now, baby?”

Dazed and sobbing, Minho nods. He wants nothing more. He doesn’t want to think anymore, wants that storm of feelings inside of him to stop.

Chan’s hands glide down until one of them cups his neck, strong and possessive – and then, Chan leans towards him to capture Minho’s lips. It’s lazy and gentle, and Minho feels incredibly dumb for not being able to reciprocate the kiss properly, just hiccups pathetically into Chan’s mouth. But it also liquifies the heat inside of him into a steady stream of molasses that pulses through Minho’s veins.

When Chan’s tongue enters his mouth, Minho stops thinking altogether. His brain is wiped empty as Chan explores his mouth, tastes him thoroughly. At that moment, Minho only exists for Chan to plunder his lips, to take and take and take from him, and Minho will gladly go empty.

The hand not pulling on Minho’s neck has taken a hold of his shoulder. Chan is not rough, but certainly determined when he makes Minho move on the dildo again until he starts moaning through the tears into his mouth.

Filled to the brim as Chan kisses him senseless, dopamine shooting all the way into his brain. Everything tingles, bright and sweet.

Eventually, Chan gives a filthy lick over Minho’s cheek, licks up the salty tear tracks, before he leans away. “Such a helpless slut, hm?”, he says way too gently. “Feels so good to be filled up and useful, doesn’t it?”

Eyes blinking towards the blanket, Minho nods. The sheets are a mess beneath him, crumpled up and partially wet, from tears, or lube, or drool. Minho traces the patterns with a heavy gulp.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. Now get on your hands and knees. You’re gonna give our little Felix a nice show as retaliation, won’t you?”

Minho wants to say no. He wants to say no with a deep pulse inside his stomach, an instinct that’s grabbing onto Minho’s intestines, digs into them as if to stop him from moving.

But Chan has successfully overridden any of those instincts holding Minho back. Somehow made it make sense that Minho would let his brother see him like that.

It’s still terribly embarrassing to have Yongbok witness how the dildo glides out of him. How he winces when it does, because it feels so delicious to have it glide against his sensitive walls, how his thighs flex because he wishes he still had something inside of him.

Yet it’s also the right thing to do, isn’t it? He should make it up to Yongbok, and he shouldn’t want Yongbok to hurt any further, and-

Minho is confused and aroused, and his hard cock bobs against his stomach when Minho moves onto his hands and knees. He hisses at the sudden stimulation of his sensitive tip, as short as it was, and clenches harder around the cold breeze of the room that brushes against his wet hole.

Despite the chill, the air seems hot, filled with the artificial scent of lube that only intensifies when Chan settles on the mattress behind Minho and pops the bottle open again. The bed dips with his weight, and Minho feels so watched, so vulnerable, naked and on his hands and knees in the middle of the room.

His skin crawls with a litany of feelings, all of which make his nerves light up with want. He wants to run, he wants to escape – but he also wants to protect his little brother, who stares at him with parted lips and watery eyes.

He wants to be ruined, fully and thoroughly, he wants to be broken down into pieces so Chan can put him back together after.

His throat clenches around a quivering sound when Chan uses his fingers to push some more lube into Minho. They feel around ruthlessly, press against the sensitive walls, and Minho moans and gasps, overwhelmed, as his hips rut back. His ears whistle with the sharp sensations, arms shaking where they hold him up.

Soon enough, Chan’s fingers withdraw. His dry hand strokes over Minho’s back, a long, soothing gesture that feels so belittling that it does the opposite of calming Minho down.

“There you go, just wanted me to turn you into a thoughtless mess, didn’t you?”, Chan croons, as he grabs on the supple skin just above Minho’s hipbone, and bumps the tip of his cock against Minho’s entrance.

Minho shakes. He wants this so bad, ass clenching and hips pressing back so Chan will finally, finally slip inside – and at the same time he hates it, feels so ashamed and embarrassed that Yongbok is witnessing this.

His breath feels damp, panting, before it suddenly hitches when Chan starts to press inside.

Minho’s nails dig so hard into the bedding beneath him that his veins protrude, gritting his teeth to stop himself from reacting too much.

A douse of arousal washes over him when Chan groans as he shoves his thick cock inside. “Baby, God, feel so good…”

All Minho manages is a broken whimper in return, his focus reduced to the way Chan’s dick now lies flat and heavy against his prostate, how the sensation seems to run up his torso all the way into his head.

When Chan starts fucking him, Minho’s eyes roll back. His jaw slacks open with an aborted moan, but he doesn’t get time to collect his bearings before Chan sets a rhythm. Pumps his hips in and out harshly, fucks Minho so thoroughly that he feels it inside his guts.

“F-fuck”, he curses, gritting his teeth and screwing his eyes shut to somehow bear with the sensations without dissolving into a dumb mess in front of his little brother. The one who always admired Minho, the one that shouldn’t see him so slutty that he can’t stop moaning on his hyung’s dick.

He’s hanging onto his control by a thread, stretched taught and paper thin, but Minho clasps on tightly.

Chan above him sighs, only slightly out of breath despite the rough pace that renders Minho incoherent in seconds. A sharp pain blooms on Minho’s butt, the slap echoing through the room alongside Minho’s cry.

“Come on, pet. Break.”

Before Minho can understand the words, another slap meets his ass, even harsher, right at his sitting-spots. Another. Another. Another. Chan spanks him again and again, never ceasing his rhythm, until all of Minho’s butt-cheeks are littered in red, pulsating handprints.

And Minho does what Chan commanded.

His forearms give in with the sting, a cry punched out of him on the next thrust, and the levee breaks. As Chan’s cock rubs so deliciously good against his insides, Minho moans, cheek smushed against the sheets, fingers helplessly looking for purchase.

He doesn’t find any. Doesn’t need to, because Chan’s hands lie firm on his hips, pulling him back to meet his thrust and give Minho the nice, rough fucking he truly needed.

Punches moan after moan out of Minho’s defenceless body.

Something funny beats inside Minho’s heart when he thinks about how weird it is that Chan seemed to know. Seemed to understand, even before Minho himself did, that this is what he needs.

Either way Minho feels the pleasure accumulate inside his bloodstream with every sharp push of Chan’s cock into him. His insides clench, massage around the hot tip that pushes so overwhelmingly deep that Minho sees stars.

“H-hyung”, he whimpers thoughtlessly, and the fingers on his hips flex harder as Chan growls.

“Good boy, Minho, so good for me, my pretty pet”, he grits out between his teeth, grabbing a handful of supple flesh, and it sounds so raw and hot that Minho quivers. “Didn’t even need to hurt you today. Look at how well you’re behaving.”

Chan leans over him, then, covers him. The expensive satin of his dress shirt caresses Minho’s sweaty back, and it makes him feel so small, and filthy, and covered, that he whimpers.

Hot lips press against Minho’s spine as Chan slows his hips into a smoother rhythm, not as punishing, but somehow even more intense. Because now, Minho can truly feel every inch glide in and out, the ridges of the tip he is too familiar with at this point.

Chan sucks a couple of hickeys into his skin. He’s always possessive, loves marking all of them until there’s no mistaking that they are his.

And Minho keens with every single one as he melts into submission. Only once Minho’s neck feels like it is littered in tiny red bruises does Chan kiss up towards his ear, his hot breath fanning over it.

Minho shivers, and the pleasure flows through him like liquid sugar.

“I should use Felix more often, hm? Allows me to punish and reward you at the same time.”

Minho’s breath hitches, before another moan is punched out of him. The thought of fighting to protect Yongbok, of doing embarrassing, humiliating things because of it goes right to his cock.

But Chan isn’t done. The smile in his voice is audible, even as he lowers it into a whisper. “He sounds so sweet when he cries, doesn’t he? He’s still sitting there, Minho. Look.”

Slowly, Minho tilts his head, cheek rubbing against the bedsheets as he tries to catch a glimpse of his brother. Yongbok is staring at him, eyes heated, and starts to squirm as soon as their eyes meet. His cock is hard, but his hands are somewhere behind his back. A thin layer of sweat covers his body, the firm collar a stark contrast to his soft skin.

Everything about him looks utterly delectable, and dark heat rushes through Minho’s body.

“He still can’t escape, Minho”, Chan whispers into his ear. “Don’t you want to play with him a little?”

And then… Minho feels something hard and cool against his hand. A little piece of plastic.

He blinks at it.

The remote.

“Take it, pet. It’s okay”, Chan prompts as he grinds deep into Minho.

Entranced, Minho opens his hand until Chan can let the remote drop into it. Minho stops breathing. His heart pounds faster.

He holds the control now.

His eyes snap to Yongbok. Yongbok who looks at him with hopeful eyes.

Now that Minho has the remote, he doesn’t have to be shocked again.

Right?

Heart thundering in his ribcage, Minho looks back towards the remote. Licks over his already spit-slicked lips, as his body is rocked deep into the mattress by Chan’s steady movement.

Looks at Yongbok again.

Who blinks, shifts his weight with a sudden worry paling his face. “Hyung?”

Minho’s heartbeat seems to pulse in his fingertips, right against the button of the remote.

Yongbok does sound pretty when he cries.

“Hyung”, Yongbok whimpers again, this time more urgently. Because he knows his brother. Senses that something is wrong. “Hyung, please, you don’t have to, just… just…” His gulp is audible, even though his voice is almost gone on the next sentence.

“Please don’t hurt me?”

Guilt and anticipation swirl inside Minho’s gut. His head is swimming with the excitement, the power he holds, and-

He looks at Yongbok.

At his little brother, who stares at him with wide eyes, silently pleading. Looks up to him the way he always does, the way that kept driving Minho crazy the past few years, before he finally got Yongbok beneath him and fucked stupid on his cock.

And Yongbok sounds so pretty when he cries.

Trembling, Minho’s finger flexes. Just a little.

The give of the button is minor, but the reaction is instant. Yongbok cries out, high, panicked, slumps forward as all of his muscles tense with the electric current running through him.

Minho’s finger snaps back as if he was the one whose been shocked, and the whirring inside the air subsides. Yongbok pants, sobs, betrayed.

Minho’s heart keeps galloping. It pounds so fast against his ribcage at the thought of what he’s just done.

Across the room, Yongbok strains against his binds in panic as he grunts and sobs, but he can’t get anywhere. Every few seconds, his eyes stray to Minho, as if to check on him. Check if he’s going to do it again.

When Yongbok realizes the ropes truly don’t give, his whole body quivers in defeat. “Hyung, please, please!”, he sobs, and Minho’s so turned on by the sound that his skin tingles.

He presses the button again.

Yongbok seizes. This time, Minho is prepared for it. Holds the button down longer, watches with nauseating guilt as Yongbok shakes through the shock. When he releases his little brother, he slugs down, broken, mindlessly begging. “H-hyung, hyung, don… don’t, not again, stop, please!”

“So delicious when he pleads, isn’t he?”, Chan murmurs above him, and Yongbok closes his eyes with a wet sob. “And you get so tense, baby. So tight around my dick.”

All of Minho’s body is filled with heat. The slow and heavy kind, the one that smothers all rational thought. He stares at Chan, who looks a bit crazy with the way he looks at Minho down his nose, with the smirk that pulls at his lips, as he keeps fucking him.

Dopamine courses through Minho’s veins, makes him shake with desire.

“I’m close”, Chan says. “Gonna fill you up, hm? You want that?”

The thought of Chan’s hot cum flooding him makes Minho shiver, pressing his hips back harder against Chan’s as the older picks up his speed again.

“C-can I come, too?”, he asks. Slurs. His tongue doesn’t work properly anymore, but he doesn’t care.

Meanly, Chan laughs. “Of course not.”

He uses one hand to push Minho down by the neck, as the other grabs his ass. Holds him firmly in place. Quickly, Chan sets a merciless rhythm, pounding into Minho’s tight hole fast and steady.

“Just be a good pet and hold still while hyung gets himself off inside your hole. Won’t take long with how hot and tight you are. A perfect hole. Made for taking dick, hm?”

Chan’s tone is condescending, and Minho doesn’t dare protest.

Instead, he presses the button again. Listens to the surprised yell of his brother, and grimaces as his clashing emotions overwhelm him. Chan feels so good inside of him, so big, and hot, and right, that Minho has to use all his focus on trying not to come.

The way Chan moans above him, raw and unfiltered, makes the arousal thrum harder through Minho’s body. Chan’s long fingers dig tighter into his neck, and Minho revels in the feeling of light-headedness they cause, as Chan shoves his cock inside again, and again, and again.

By the time Chan’s movements become erratic, Minho’s body feels like a livewire. All tensed up and electric, every single inch of his body buzzing with pleasure that wants to collapse into fireworks. He wants to come so badly.

Chan’s nails dig into his hips as he groans, sharp and painful, and Minho is almost grateful for it, because he’s not sure he would have been able to hold off his own orgasm otherwise.

“Fuck, baby”, Chan curses as he releases inside of him. Spills hot ropes of cum into Minho’s abused hole, until Minho feels it nice and deep inside his guts.

It feels so arousing that Minho has to close his eyes and bite his lip with sharp teeth to keep from touching himself without permission. His cock aches, almost as if it was itching, tingling with the need to get off.

Chan’s hot breath spills over Minho’s spine when the older slumps down, catches himself on his hands besides Minho’s body, spent.

“Good boy”, he praises again in that deep, raspy voice, that makes Minho’s insides feel like molten lava.

Minho swallows the drool inside his mouth, all of his body tense. “Can I come now?”, he asks timidly, hand already twitching against the mattress to reach back and get himself off.

Soft palms stroke over Minho’s back, gentle and soothing, and Minho tenses.

“No, pet”, Chan says gently.

Minho’s stomach grows cold at the same time that his need climbs higher. Suddenly, Chan pulls out of him. The movement is so overwhelming that Minho’s breath stutters for a moment, body rocking forward, but he stays in his position.

Even as his hole is left clenching greedily around the cold air of the room.

“You won’t get off with your hand”, Chan drawls, as he casually gets off the bed as if he hadn’t just fucked Minho into oblivion.

Teeth gritting against the pressure in his head, Minho laments the word choice. He already pictures himself grinding against the bedsheets, or humping one of the pillows as his only way to get off.

The humiliation is almost too much to take.

Meanwhile, Chan strolls over towards Yongbok, who blinks up at the elder with wide eyes. Almost lovingly, Chan bends down to pick him up. One hand woven underneath Yongbok’s armpits, the other under his knees.

Since Yongbok’s wrists and ankles are tied together, the angle is stupidly awkward, and Yongbok yells in surprise as he’s suddenly swung into the air. With a piercing smirk, Chan walks them towards the bed and drops Yongbok on the bed where he bounces.

Chan’s eyes glide to Minho, voice lowered conspiratorially. “But good manners get rewarded.”

Minho’s breath bates. He swallows hard as he watches Chan arrange his helpless, poor brother until he lies on his back right next to Minho. His knees are forced to stay up, ankles right below his bum with the way they are tied to his hands.

The brothers make eye contact, and Yongbok presses his legs together firmly, insecure and vulnerable.

With a tilt of his head, Chan points Minho towards Yongbok. “Go ahead.”

Eyes wide open, Yongbok desperately shakes his head. “No, hyung, no, please, you don’t need to, you have the remote, you can just-“

Minho doesn’t hear the rest of Yongbok’s babbling. Instead, his eyes wander to his hand. It’s true. He still has the remote.

He looks at Yongbok again, all of his body vibrating with the need to get off. And if Chan wants him to fuck his little brother… if that’s the only way he’s going to come today, then…

Minho straightens from his position on the mattress until he can sit in front of Yongbok’s feet.

“Open your legs, Yongbok-ah.”

Minho’s voice is still scratchy, shakes with how pent-up he feels. For a moment, Yongbok pauses, before he squirms even harder. “No, no, hyung, you c-can’t, you-“

Minho presses the button.

He almost feels the current run through his own body with the way Yongbok’s chest heaves up right in front of him as the shock runs through him.

Quickly, Minho releases the button again, the arousal inside him condensing into a tight coil. His heart is galloping. He swallows hard. “Yongbok-ah. Don’t… don’t make me hurt you.”

Tears well up in Yongbok’s eyes at the words, the betrayal, the inescapable arousal that becomes evident when Yongbok does as he’s told and parts his shaking legs. His cock is swollen and leaking, lies against his stomach and drools precum onto it.

When Minho’s eyes rest on it, it twitches, and Minho doesn’t doubt that Yongbok is just as desperate as him. Especially when his eyes stray lower. To Yongbok’s hole. And of course, he finds it glistening and quivering around a thick, purple plug.

Yongbok keens when Minho’s fingers close around it, brushing against the exposed rim in the process, and start tugging. His head tosses from one side to the other, whimpering quiet pleas that mix into little moans when Minho grinds the toy back into the sensitive hole a couple of times, before he truly pulls.

And then it’s out.

And Yongbok’s open hole lies before him, waiting, inviting him with a clench, and Minho’s cock aches so hard he’s sure it’ll fall off if he doesn’t get it in there right now. His head is clouded with a single focus, a hunger that drives him insane.

He puts the remote aside, somewhere on the mattress where Chan grabs and pockets it as the eldest settles against the headrest to watch the show.

Then, Minho crawls closer. Grabs the base of his cock with one hand, as the other braces his body over his little brother, who shakes beneath him, more frenzied now that Minho towers over him.

Cages him in.

There’s truly no escape now.

Yongbok looks so pretty it hurts when he blinks up at Minho. The way his hair is messed up and his face is flushed and spotted, the way his freckles dust his reddened cheeks, the way his nipples have drawn into tight little buds that look like they are begging to be squeezed.

All Minho can think about is how good it’s going to feel to push into him. To see Yongbok’s mouth fall open with a moan, to fuck him stupid, to finally get some stimulation on his cock until he’s gotten off as well.

Minho’s head feels too hot.

His tip bumps against Yongbok’s rim, who squeaks in panic, thighs trembling.

“N-no, hyung, wait, I-, ah!”, his brother stammers, but Minho pushes inside regardless. Groans at how good it feels when the wet, hot hole of his little brother opens up for him so easily. Pats down his brother’s sides desperately with soothing fingers as Yongbok keeps sobbing and writhing.

“Sh, Yongbok, just a little bit, okay? Hyung just needs a little bit.”

His words feel wet, spoken as if in trance because it feels so good. The shame and guilt roar like a storm inside of him, but all of it is overshadowed by how right it feels to suddenly have high pressure everywhere around his dick.

“No!”

Yongbok wails as the tip stretches him, so tight around Minho’s cock that it’s virtually impossible to hold back. With a well-timed push, Minho bottoms out, dick deeply nestled inside Yongbok’s hole.

Their breaths hitch at the same time, and Yongbok’s following sob mixes with Minho’s moan. His legs quiver around Minho, almost as if he’s not sure whether he should try to force his older brother out – or spread them even wider.

Tears run down Yongbok’s face as his eyes move around the room, fluttering quickly, as if looking for an escape. His skin is soft beneath Minho’s fingertips. There’s no need to hold him in place, but Minho loves digging his fingers into Yongbok’s slender hips regardless.

Carefully, he pulls back – and then gives a nice, hard thrust back inside.

It’s astounding to watch what it does to his brother. Yongbok’s body quivers for a moment, eyes rolling back with a moan, before they settle somewhere in the general direction of Minho’s face.

“Mh, look how his eyes go empty”, Chan murmurs with a fond smile, carding Yongbok’s sweaty strands from his forehead.

Yongbok whimpers loudly, but Minho shushes him with hot, desperate words and kisses around his chest. Starts moving. Pulls out a little bit, and pushes back in immediately, as if he couldn’t bear to be outside of Yongbok for too long. He builds a slow, shaky rhythm, ass still clenching around the sore phantom sensation of Chan’s cock.

He’s a bit out of breath already, feels just as heady as Yongbok looks, and rushes out soothing sweet nothings.

“Just let your head go empty, baby, it’s okay. We know you can’t think when someone fucks you. It’s okay. Just let hyung… let hyung take care of you”, Minho murmurs, shakily snapping his hips forward again into another thrust.

“H-hyung, please- mh… ‘ts wrong, please, y-you can’t-“, Yongbok drawls, words mushed together, aborting the sentence whenever Minho pushes inside again.

His wanton moans fill the air, eyes blinking slowly as his brain goes numb. Minho can’t believe how easy it is to get Yongbok into this state, how visible it is when his thoughts black out. How he becomes a moaning, drooling fucktoy in no time, as soon as he’s hanging from one of their cocks.

Breathing out harshly, Minho pulls back a little and sets up a nice pace. It’s not rough, not overly fast, because he already feels like he won’t last a single second longer, but the grind feels mouth-wateringly good.

His little brother moans like a slut, little sounds punched out of him with every thrust, and Minho wants this moment to last forever.

Wants to etch it into his brain, or maybe bottle it, so he can live through it again and again.

Already, Minho is insanely pent up. He’s not going to last, and he whines knowing it, looks to Chan to confirm he has permission now.

Chan casually palms over his clothed cock, that has chubbed up again watching the two of them, and gives Minho a belittling smile. “So close already, baby? Mh, a bit pathetic, isn’t it?”

Licking his lips, Minho grabs onto his brother’s hips harder. “Y-yes, hyung.”

He won’t risk being mouthy right now. Not when he can practically taste his orgasm on his tongue.

“Mh”, Chan hums, and lets his head bump against the wall in the back. It shows off the tendrils on his neck as he looks at Minho down his nose. “There’s just one thing I really wanted to try.”

Minho can’t think. Has no idea what Chan means.

Not until the pain suddenly hits him. He feels more than hears the raw cry that’s tugged from his throat alongside Yongbok’s yelp, as an electric shock runs through both of them. It’s over as quickly as it came, but Minho pants, all of his body suddenly alive.

“The human body is a surprisingly good conductor, did you know?”

The next thrust into Yongbok’s body is almost punishingly hard as Minho’s head spins. Chan shocked him. Chan shocked him, too.

The pain of the electricity is delicious.

It adds on top of the pleasure, keeps Minho right there at the edge, and goes to his head. It’s not as bad as he assumed it would be based on Yongbok’s reactions.

But it does have its effect.

It feels controlling in a way no other pain Minho experienced ever has. Not the sharp sting of floggers, or slaps, not the deep thump some paddles have. Instead, it runs through his hole body like tiny hooks that tug on his cells, everywhere at once, like an invisible hand taking a hold of him.

Yongbok beneath him looks absolutely delirious, and Minho wonders how deep into submission the continuous shocks have pushed him. His little brother just moans helplessly, doesn’t even try to fuck himself harder on Minho’s cock anymore, just blinks up at him with half-open, teary eyes.

“Feels good, Yongbok-ah?”, Minho asks breathlessly, as he goes faster.

“S-so goooood, hyung, need- want… more, please, I c-can’t-“ Yongbok’s eyes roll back when suddenly, another wave of pain rushes through both of them.

Minho groans tightly, all of his body tense and ready to snap, as Chan tortures them with the remote while Minho tries to keep his rhythm through all of it. He can’t think. Runs completely on instinct as he pumps his hips forward, rushes closer to his orgasm.

The next time Chan presses the button, Minho doesn’t feel any pain. He’s too close, too deep inside the sea of pleasure to feel anything but a sudden height of sensation, another rush of dopamine. His whole body tenses from the electricity, involuntarily, and it makes Minho feel as if his climax ran through the entirety of it. Into every little nerve ending, from his head all the way down to his toes.

All of them light up in sparks, explode, as his head rushes with white noise. He barely hears his own broken moans as he presses as deep into Yongbok as he can go, rough, aborted thrusts. Hardly feels the way Yongbok clenches around him rapidly with a helpless whine, as he’s also swept away by all of the pleasure suddenly collapsing.

When Minho comes down, he’s incoherent. He feels completely out of his depth, and just tries to balance his weight atop Yongbok so he doesn’t crush his little brother.

His eyes blink into the younger’s face, who looks back with the same dazed look Minho thinks must be on his own face, and they breathe into each other’s mouths, just inches apart.

Minho doesn’t think.

Just closes the distance between them, and listens to the hammering of his heart as he kisses his little brother. Their lips move against each other sluggishly, neither of them really in the right mind to give it any sense of purpose, but they don’t need to.

The kiss makes Minho feel connected, not like he’s floating off somewhere into empty space, and that’s all he needs right now. He can’t think yet. Can only tangle their tongues, the taste so familiar, so comforting, that Minho sighs through his nose as he pushes deeper.

At some point, Yongbok’s hands sling around his neck, and their legs rub together. Yongbok’s thighs caress his own, warm skin on skin, soft and gentle and home.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Minho realizes Chan must have undone the binds.

His punishment is over.

He breaks the kiss to look for the older, despite the protesting sound Yongbok makes, but before he even has time to look, Chan’s gentle hand already strokes over his head.

Chan’s eyes are calm and fond, a stark contrast to the way he looked just minutes prior, and Minho feels something warm pulsate through him.

“Good job, Minho”, Chan praises softly, and never stops the petting. “Can you lie down next to Felix for me?”

Breathing hard, Minho nods. He still doesn’t quite think, just follows orders, but he has half a mind to pull out of Yongbok slowly. The youngest makes an uncomfortable noise regardless, and Minho apologetically strokes his waist to soothe him, before his wet cock finally falls free.

Obediently, Minho lies down beside Yongbok with a huff. The mattress below him is soft, gives in a bit beneath him, and Minho sinks into it with an exhausted sigh. He didn’t even realize how strung up his body felt. But now that it collapses, Minho wants to cry with how wrung out he is.

Chan kisses Yongbok onto the forehead, and does the same for Minho, before he settles between their legs, and starts cleaning them up.

Yongbok comes first.

For some stupid reason, Minho feels tears rim his eyes at being neglected as Chan runs a washcloth down his brother’s body with gentle murmurs.

Immediately, Chan’s free hand lands on Minho’s eyes. Covers them.

“Sh, baby, just give me a moment, you did so, so well, I promise I’m here.”

Minho hiccups softly, but nods against Chan’s palm. The darkness helps. Helps him drift a little longer, counting seconds inside his head to keep himself from overthinking anything.

Rustling fills the room, and Minho feels something soft move next to him – the blanket. Yongbok has been covered with it. He exhales slowly.

His turn.

Chan’s hand moves until it cups Minho’s cheek, and his thumb strokes over the protruding bone there. “Did so well for me, love. I love you so much.”

A hundred little butterflies flutter inside Minho’s stomach and up his throat. They block it and Minho can’t answer, but he knows Chan doesn’t expect him to. Not right now.

He closes his eyes and lets a few tears run down his cheeks, while Chan works at him, glides the damp cloth over some parts of his body while his warm hand strokes over others. It’s a bit embarrassing, but Minho forces himself to breathe through it.

The comfort that comes with it is worth it. How it slowly settles him down again.

Eventually, Chan puts the cloth away, and tucks him into the blanket, just like his brother. Minho feels a little more back inside his body once he’s covered, a little less ashamed and guilty and embarrassed. He looks up at Chan with something small and vulnerable inside him and clears his throat.

“I love you too”, he whispers.

The smile on Chan’s face is worth the embarrassment a thousand times over. With one hand braced next to Minho’s head, his boyfriend leans down for a long, deep kiss, a warm palm cupping his neck. Then, Chan nuzzles their noses together.

Minho snorts, and scrunches up his face with a protesting sound, as Chan giggles. They breathe into each other for a moment, before Chan gives him one last peck on the forehead, and settles on his arm next to him.

It’s a tight squeeze on the bed with all three of them, but Chan somehow manages to fit his body regardless.

“Did you have fun?”, he asks after a moment, soft eyes on both of them.

And suddenly, the insecurity hits. Minho chews his lip as the whole weight of guilt drops onto him, and his eyes snap to his brother.

He literally tortured Yongbok today. He knows that the younger likes it, has seen it often enough that he’s not absolutely crushed into pieces under his shame and guilt, but it momentarily takes his breath away.

Yongbok, surprisingly, reacts faster than Chan. Finds Minho’s hand beneath the blanket, and snatches it with his own. “So much fun”, he says with a squeeze and his brown eyes firmly smiling at Minho. “Channie-hyung let me try out the collar first. I really liked it. I’m fine, hyung, I promise, I loved it.”

Gulping hard, Minho can’t answer for a moment. But Yongbok looks at him with his big eyes, concern written into them, that Minho nods. “Okay”, he breathes.

Chan’s hand strokes through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. “How about you, love? I mean, it was a punishment, but did you enjoy it?”

Sheepish, Minho nods again. Licks over his lips as his mind speed-runs through everything that happened. “Mhm”, he rasps. “You’re… it’s pretty hot when you come up with plans like that.”

“It is, right?”, Yongbok agrees excitedly. “Fuck, I was so horny already before you came I wasn’t sure if I was going to last. And you should have seen your expression when he shocked me for the first time, hyung! The way you ran towards us, your eyes were burning, God, hyung-“

Chuckling, Chan pats Yongbok’s shoulder. “Don’t get worked up again, sunshine, your brother needs some rest.”

Yongbok pouts with a grumble that shouldn’t sound as cute as it does with his deep voice. It actually makes Minho laugh, too.

And suddenly – he just feels light. And relaxed. As if a weight had been taken off him. With a deep breath, he closes his eyes and sinks into the mattress.

He pulls Yongbok closer by their joint hands until the younger gets the hint and settles firmly into his side, head resting on Minho’s chest.

Where it belongs.

Chan coos at them. “I’ll let the two of you sleep for a bit, and I’ll check in on you in half an hour, okay?”

Suddenly tired, Minho nods into the crown of Yongbok’s hair. Chan chuckles quietly at how cute they look together, before his weight shifts over them, and expensive shoes resound against the floor.

Two steps. Three. Four.

“I love you! Sleep well!”, Chan sings by the door, to which both of them answer a mushed, tired version of “Love you, too.”

Then, the door clicks shut.

Minho’s breathing slowly levels out, incredibly comfortable with Yongbok tucked away by his shoulder.

Seconds pass by where it’s just them in the dimly lit room and the comfortable bed.

“Hyung?”, Yongbok says quietly against Minho’s chest.

“Mh?”

“Do you think Jeongin knows he has a punishment waiting for him?”

Abruptly, Minho’s chest heaves with a laugh, while Yongbok pats against it aggressively with a grumble, complaining about getting shaken.

“I don’t think so. But I’ll definitely make sure he won’t betray me again”, Minho says with a devious smirk.

Humming, Yongbok nuzzles back into Minho’s pecs. It’s quiet for a few breaths. Then: “Nah, he’ll definitely do it again.”

Grinning, Minho plants a kiss onto Yongbok’s head. Sighs happily, as he thinks about the seven people he loves most in the world.

“I sure hope so.”