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Summary
“Hyung,” he says breathily, his hands going to Matthew’s lithe waist, looking down at him—the older wearing a sly, instigating look on his face. “Why are you—What are you—?”
“We have absolutely nothing in our dorm,” he says with a drawl, laying his head against Gunwook’s chest. “And I need my breakfast. I like to have coffee in the morning. How do you like your coffee, Gunwook-ah? I like mine with sugar and cream. I like a lot of cream,” he says, his eyes glassy and demure, flicking up to Gunwook’s.
His mouth goes dry, propped open like a fish. Matthew smiles.