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Summary
“Sto—”
A damp palm clapped over Jisung’s mouth before he could finish speaking, snuffing his voice out mid-syllable. The unrestrained force shoved his lips back against his blunt front teeth, sending a sharp jolt of pain searing through his nervous system. Sticky, metallic warmth bloomed across Jisung’s tongue—faintly sweet, just as sacred as it had been at his first communion.
“Shh, ‘s okay,” the stranger—no, Minho—whispered into the shell of Jisung’s ear, his breath warm against the sensitive cartilage. Minho shifted his weight, using his muscular build to hold Jisung still as he explained in a soft, coaxing tone, “just making you feel good, yeah? I’m not gonna hurt you, Sungie.”
Or, Jisung’s weirdly distant roommate invites him for drinks.