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Summary
“It’s hot in the dorms, and we’re both guys, so it’s fine, right?” Jisung asked, his voice tilting into that bratty register that usually made Minho want to either strangle him or pin him against a wall. “If you’re so frustrated by it, then you can also wear less. Unless you’re too shy.”
The table went silent. Chan looked between the two of them. “Don’t do it, Jisung,” Chan warned softly. “You’re poking a sleeping tiger.”
Minho didn’t look at Chan. He kept his gaze locked on Jisung. Minho felt a familiar heat coil in his gut, a predatory instinct clicking into place.
He liked it when Jisung played games, but he loved it even more when he won them.
When Minho takes Jisung’s casual dare to "wear less" around the dorms a little too literally.