When they got home, Salin tossed his shirt onto the couch and leaned against the doorframe, watching as Jun-ho shut the door behind him, his brow furrowed.
— You're pissed, aren't you? — he asked, walking over slowly.
Jun-ho took off his jacket, unhurried. Didn't answer.
Salin stepped closer. Ran his fingers along Jun-ho's collar, tugging gently. Eyes locked.
— If I wanted one of those guys, I'd have left with them.
— I know. — Jun-ho murmured.
— But I didn't. — Salin said, before pulling him in by the collar and planting a kiss. Sweet, sharp, a little cocky. Then he rested his forehead against Jun-ho's. — I love you, dummy.
Jun-ho let out a muffled laugh. Rare sound.
— You're a menace. Why were you chatting with Alexandre?
— To mess with you.
He scoffed.
— You don't need to mess with me. I already want you all the time.
— It's not about wanting. It's about trust.
— Menace. — he muttered.
Salin laughed out loud.
