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Summary
Minho closes the door behind himself, leaning on it as he takes in the sight. Chan is on the bed, arms restrained, tied above his head to the headboard. It brings his muscles to full attention, how they rhythmically flex and relax with every breath he takes. He’s wearing a muzzle, so the breaths are deep and steady, but as soon as he catches scent of an omega in the room, his head snaps forward, trying to see him with the awkward angle. His hips buck up too, cock heavy and red, hard. Waiting. It’s endearing, in a way, how he can’t control a physical reaction.
“Hey, Channie.”
Series
- Part 3 of minchan bingo
- Part 1 of channie bingo
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