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    Summary

    "Yes, coach," Minho tossed back. "What should I do?"

    "Ten squats to start," Jisung smirked, eyeing the older man’s legs with clear intent.

    "And what are squats good for?" the man grumbled, starting the exercises anyway. All the while, as the trainer cheerfully counted, he didn’t take his eyes off Minho’s thighs.

    "Oh, I could show you," Jisung huffed with a sly grin.

    Minho had just wanted to box at the new gym. No extra training, no diet, just the punching bag and sparring. But due to the club’s strict rules, he was assigned a personal trainer — the two-faced Han Jisung, who on the street looked like a kitten he could stuff in his pocket, but in the gym turned into a machine draining Minho of his last scraps of energy… and probably sanity.

    Language:
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