“Hit me,” Jeongin says, pushing his empty glass towards Felix, who’s much closer to the half-full margarita pitcher on their table.
“What’s the magic word?” Felix sing-songs.
Jeongin has had two already, and he’s feeling a little giddy. Blinking his lashes, he makes his eyes as wide as possible and says, “Please?”
Felix gives a dramatic, full-body shiver. “Goddamn,” he says, snatching Jeongin’s glass up and refilling it. “Tell me you beg like that when Chan asks you too.”
Jeongin feels his cheeks flush hot. “Sometimes,” he says. He lifts his glass, taking a long drink, then eyes Felix over the top of the rim. “If I say it a certain way, he’ll do anything I ask.”
Felix’s eyes light up, and he sits forward, leaning close to Jeongin and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “Oh?” he says. “Such as?”
Jeongin covers his cheeks with his hands, his face burning. It’s so embarrassing, but… a part of him does want Felix to know.
“Just something I call him,” he mumbles.