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Summary
Jisung frowns, blinking down at his chest. Resting against his skin is a foil packet. A condom.
A cold spike of dread shoots straight through Jisung’s stomach. He stares at it, his chest tightening. They haven’t used a condom since the very beginning of their relationship-- sharing everything, letting Minho fill him completely is sacred to them. It is the ultimate sign of trust, of ownership, of belonging. The thought of anything less feels almost like a wound.
Jisung’s head snaps back up, his eyes wide and panicked as he looks at the older man. “Min..?” Jisung asks, his voice trembling on the edge of panic. “What’s this?”