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Summary
“Open your mouth, Jeonginnie,” Chan says softly, so softly. His hips roll in Jeongin’s lap, and the movement brushes his clothed cock against Jeongin’s; both of them hiss at the contact. Chan’s hands are hot with borrowed blood where they cup Jeongin’s jaw again. He doesn’t know his own strength, Jeongin thinks dizzily, and does not know where the thought has come from; he could break Jeongin so easily. It might be better. Might be kinder.
The task falls to Chan to turn their eighth and final member.
xenagogue: one who conducts strangers; a guide.