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Summary
Chan smiles that wicked smirk of his, lifting his arms lazily above his head. The shirt moves with him, black mesh creating new patterns upon the defined lines of his chest. Jeongin’s sure he’s drooling by now.
“Why, Innie?” he coos, again with that mocking voice. “Like what you see?”
Jeongin rubs a hand over his red, swollen lips. “It’s the most useless top in existence.”
Chan laughs in response, leaning a little, flicking his fingers on Jeongin’s nose.
“Yeah. Just like you.”(OR)
Bang Chan and his useless top(s).
