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Summary
"I'm your instructor," Minho hums, his hand on Jisung's back carefully tugging his shirt out from his jeans waistband, to then brush his fingertips along bare skin. "This is highly inappropriate for our kind of relationship."
"But..." Jisung doesn't know what he wants to say, really. He just wants Minho to keep touching him, keep looking at him.
"But," Minho answers in an echo, smirking as he leans close, whispering against Jisung's ear. "You're magnetic. I don't want to keep my hands off of you."
Minho teaches a dance class that Jisung joins. Things happen.
