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Summary
“Give me a kiss before you get all messy,” Jisung says, leaning into his space. Minho only grunts, angling his face away so that Jisung’s lips land on his cheek.
“Food’s on the table,” he tells Jisung gruffly as he begins to shift, and Jisung’s stomach sinks. Not because Minho is transforming into a supernatural creature, figure contorting and bones snapping into place, no. He’s used to that.
What he isn’t used to is Minho being upset with him.
Fuck.
(or: A glimpse into the life of a brooding werecat, his devoted lover, and the blood they spill every full moon.)
