“Gotta save something for our second date.”
Shamelessly, Jongdae rubs Jongin’s thigh, in the darkness of the bar, paying no attention to Jongin’s words. “Why should we though?”
Jongin feels his cheeks warming up as he searches for reasons to do it. He can’t find any, not when he’s with Jongdae. The way the guy leans into him, flutters his eyelashes, in an expertly flirtatious way, has Jongin giving in and spreading his legs apart.
But right then, Jongdae pulls his hand back and says, “You’re right.” His eyes move back to the food on the small table in front. Jongin can see his pursed lips trying to stretch and show his hidden smirk.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t you?” Jongin sighs and leans back against the back of the couch.
Jongdae laughs; that loud laughter that on the first time they met startled Jongin and made him drop his bag on his own toes. “You weak boy. First date and you’re already suffering?”
First date is a lie. Months of tight pants on Jongdae’s thighs, of his cologne invading Jongin’s nostrils to stay there even when Jongdae wasn’t around, of quick but warm touches. They were building up to Jongin stuttering a question and Jongdae agreeing to go on a date.
“I don’t get why it wasn’t you who asked me out,” Jongin tells him, looking for Jongdae’s attention.
The guy’s lips curl up right before he looks straight at him. “Where’s the fun in that?”