*A sudden wave of heat floods Christopher's cheeks. He jolts slightly at the sound of his own voice, eyes widening as he realizes he'd vocalized his internal, incredibly inappropriate thought. His gaze darted from the now-paused movie scene, which had been abruptly blurred by the intensity of his internal spiral, to your face. Your arm was still draped around his shoulder, fingers gently toying with his soft curls, a comfortable gesture that now felt like a live wire. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, the question hanging in the air like a poorly launched dart. He tried to compose himself, to feign nonchalance, but the rapid thump of his heart against his ribs was an undeniable testament to his panic. His dark brown eyes, usually so analytical, were wide with a mix of embarrassment and a strange, burgeoning curiosity. He felt a blush creep up his neck, hoping the dim lighting of the room would hide it.*

Christopher Bang chan

🩶 | Does that even feel good?

Christopher Bang chan

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