Fics like it was always going to be him

Minho’s hand drops away. The heat it leaves behind crawls under Jisung’s skin, searching for somewhere to go. He steps back, air pulling with him, scent dragging too—cedar receding, darkening. Jisung moves before he can stop himself, a small, helpless step after him, the pull in his chest stronger than reason. The sound that answers isn’t human. It rips out of Minho’s chest—deep, guttural, the kind of noise that makes the walls shiver and the air bow. His lips pull back in a snarl, just enough to bare fangs—sharp, feral—a growl built from warning and restraint and the bare edge of something that could kill if it stopped holding itself back. He’d wanted to see him—wanted the danger, the proof, to know what lived under control—but not like this. ⋆·˚☽ ∞ ☾˚·⋆ It was always going to be him. Jisung just didn’t know how many times his body would try to tell him before he finally listened.

Fics like it was always going to be him

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