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Summary
He’d let Minho keep him as his dirty little secret forever, but he can’t shake the image of them mated, the itch in his teeth. It’s pervasive, wheedling into his mind until he can’t sleep, can’t see straight. Lying in his bed all alone, staring at the ceiling while he fists his cock raw, the orange-peel texture morphing into Minho’s fleeting lips, his sharp tongue. Squeezing his own knot until he cums dry—almost painfully—because it’s been too many times, he doesn’t have a drop left in him, but he can’t stop imagining he’s in their bed, not his, and the ache persists.
Chan and Minho have spent years at each other’s throats—publicly rivals, privately tangled in something neither will name. When a campus dispute gives Minho the perfect excuse to summon Chan, their usual power struggle takes a turn.