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Summary
“Too much—” Chan gasps softly. His hands find purchase in holding onto Minho’s shoulders, fingers flexing into the material of his jacket. He’s overwhelmed. He’s overwhelmed and he’s about to collapse if Minho doesn’t speed up the process, legs trembling as he struggles to hold himself up, leaning more of his weight onto the other who accepts it gratefully, a strong arm wrapping around his waist—Minho’s so strong, always so strong, able to pick him up and drop him whenever he wants to, Chan loves how small he feels under Minho. “S’too much, please—I, I can’t think hyung—please.”
or; winter bleeds into passion.