NEED TO KNOW

hooked up on the feeling

He runs his tongue over his lips and tastes sweet chocolate. Minho's eyes observe the action.

"Just looking at you," he answers. His hand comes down to rub at his knee instead. "Can't I just do that?"

"Never said you couldn't," Jisung giggles breathily. He holds out his cup wordlessly, to which Minho takes it and sets it onto the coffee table for him. From there, he could slip his now free hands underneath the blanket so he could trace over the ridges of Minho's knuckles and the callouses on his palm.

"You're just pretty," Minho says casually as he lets his fingers slip into Jisung's. "Can't I look at what's mine?"

Jisung peers at Minho through his lashes. A nice rush of heat settles atop of his cheek and he smiles, pressing Minho's hand against his leg.

"Am I yours?" He drags out, aiming to tease, yet Jisung knows the answer to that question all too well.

"Every part of you," Minho answers without hesitation. "Mine."

Jisung chuckles. He throws his head back up and stares up at the popcorn ceiling. The hand in his separates itself and settles back on his leg.

"Okay, so, why are you looking at me like you have something you want to say then?"

"What makes you think that?"

"I don't know, Min," Jisung cocks a brow at the other and smiles again, a flash of teeth apparently doing it all to attract Minho. Something about the grip on his thigh shifts, fingertips properly digging into the meat of his skin.

Minho narrows his eyes the slightest bit, unimpressed. "I don't know what you're trying to say."

"Oh, don't give me that!" Jisung frowns. He wraps himself around Minho's arm and presses his cheek to his shoulder. "I'm just. Hm. You still amuse me. You're very mysterious, you know."

"Mysterious?"

Jisung barks out a laugh. "Honestly, yes," he hums, and then, he slowly averts his eyes to the coffee table. There's a bunch of snacks, opened and empty, and his lukewarm cocoa still remains where the other had set it down. And closest to Minho, almost at the corner of the table.

A handgun— a sleek black Beretta, casually lies on the table. It's a favorite of Minho's, the handle practically engraved to rest against Minho's fingers just right. He had figured out it's the same with all of his weapons, in fact. It's all because they had become greatly involved with his daily life.

Jisung feels like it's almost a crime to stare at it for over five seconds. At the sight, his chest caves in and his mind goes fuzzy at the edges. Heart rate escalates just as quickly as the thoughts that spill into his mind. He's sure Minho could feel as he tenses the slightest bit.

And what really really does it all to instill that ounce of fear in him, thrill rather—

Is that he is never ever informed of the firearm being loaded or not. Whether its stock is full, ready to be emptied, or if it truly is just there because Minho likes to bring his toys around.

But there isn't a use for any toy if you aren't able to play with it, right?

A heavy hand carding through his hair snaps him out of his trance. He tilts his head up to meet Minho's eyes, letting a sheepish grin line his lips.