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Summary
Minho's gaze dips to the bed, the scattered blood bags. Too many and all empty. “Jisung…”
“Nothing is helping,” Jisung cries. He clings to Minho's wrist and yanks him closer, almost knocking Minho off his balance. Jisung would like it, though. Feeling Minho's weight on him, his cool skin flushed against him. “It's my—it's my heat, hyung.”
or jisung's heat hits before his mating run ceremony
