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“God, you’re so fucking desperate, aren’t you?”
Jisung nodded, carmine lower lip trembling in utter desperation as he tongued the inside of his mouth, as his fingers curled atop the hardwood floor in a fruitless attempt to ground himself and stifle his growing arousal. A breathy punch of air escaped him as Minho threaded his fingers through his soft, blond tresses, tracing his crown.
"Yes, Sir."
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