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Summary
“What would it take to get just one bite from you, sweet thing?”
Minho leans forward, getting into Jisung’s personal space and tilting his head slightly to the side, baring his neck as much as he can in the public setting of the bar. The effect is immediate, Jisung’s pupils blowing wide as his gaze hovers over Minho’s carotid. His breath is heavy on the exhale, fanning over Minho’s face as he grips his glass tight enough that it looks on the verge of shattering.
When his eyes flick back to Minho’s, the red is swirling with interest. Minho pushes forward just a little further until his mouth is resting just by Jisung’s ear. He smiles to himself, a private thing, knowing he’s won their little pas de deux.
“You’d have to kill me, Han Jisung.”
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OR: Jisung wants that cookie so effing bad.