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Summary
"You can bite harder, little bug."
So Jisung did. Not much harder, but harder enough to leave marks. Once satisfied with his work, which he thought looked like the prettiest constellation ever, Jisung took his time kiss each bruises.
"Love your thighs, hyung. Love them so much."
He mumbled between another set of kisses, eyes closed.
"I know, sweetheart. You made that very clear in your little message."
Jisung is once again mortified. Swallowed in shame.
Or, Jisung has one too many vodka cranberry and tells his best friend he wants to fuck him.