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Summary
“He made the prettiest sounds,” Chan murmurs, leaning forward to mouth at the back of Jisung’s neck. “Little gasps every time I went deep. Like he couldn’t believe how good it felt.”
Jisung whimpers, the image burning behind his eyelids. Minho, Minho, Minho.
“Are you jealous, baby?” Chan asks, voice dropping lower, nastier. “Or does it turn you on?”
It's both. Always both.
or
Jisung is sick in the head about his best friend's older brother.