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Summary
Felix made a broken little sound when Minho’s hand slid into his hair.
“Jesus Christ,” Chan muttered, almost impressed.
Felix pulled away just enough to breathe. His lips were swollen pink, eyes glassy and unfocused.
“You—you’re a good kisser,” he said.
Minho laughed, a light, near-giggle that nobody but Felix would’ve ever been able to pull out of him.
“Surprised?”
“A little,” Felix admitted.
Then he kissed him again before Minho could respond.
HELPPPPPP WHY DOES MY SMUT ALWAYS TURN INTO EMOTIONAL CATHARSIS???
Series
- Part 2 of Anonymous One-Shots by Yours Truly
