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Summary
“I don’t care if it was the stylists or not, Keonho,” Seonghyeon told him, voice sweet. His hands found the zipper of Keonho's hoodie, pulling it down until his entire torso was exposed. Keonho shivered immediately when his skin met the conditioned air of the room, but he was certain it was more due to Seonghyeon’s gaze roaming over his every inch. “You had everything on display.”
“I’m sorry,” Keonho told him, because he didn’t know what the right thing to say was. Maybe there simply wasn’t anything placating enough—Seonghyeon was territorial to a fault.
Or, Keonho had looked awfully hot during their LA photoshoot. Seonghyeon was beyond eager to get his mouth on him.
