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Summary
"Drink, Jisung."
That tone. Minho's voice has gone low and unhurried, the same way it sounds in the dark of their bedroom when Jisung is on his knees and begging, when Minho's fingers are tangled in his hair, and his breath is hot against Jisung's ear. Jisung feels his throat go dry for reasons that have nothing to do with the gochujang in the stew.
He drinks.
Or, Minho knows exactly what Jisung can handle, and then some. Because Minho always pushes him beyond his limits, that sadistic fuck.