Fics like not like that

"Shorts, Minho." "Shorts?" "Shorts." Minho looked over his shoulder. For a second he thought Chan meant he should put more clothes on. Get covered, end this, stop making a fucking scene. Then he caught the way Chan was looking at him, the almost smile, the little lift of his chin, and understood that he was bringing dinner back again. Minho grabbed the first sweatshirt his hand found and threw it. It hit Chan in the chest and dropped into his lap. Chan looked at it, left it there and stood up. Minho had sat on the end of his own bed without thinking. That left Chan standing right in front of him, close enough that Minho had to lift his chin to keep looking at his face. He hated how much attention he was giving Minho now, after putting the phone away, and the fact that this was what Minho had been trying to get since they walked through the door. Minho hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts, watching Chan watch him and trying to hold on to the smile. "Why do you want me to look at you that bad?"

Fics like not like that

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