“Oh, Joon,” I breathed, looking at the tiny seeds as they carried on an invisible breeze.
He reached for me, fingers brushing over my neck to gently cup the back of my head as he lay me down.
He kissed me slowly, sweetly, as if we had all the time in the world. The moment seemed to stretch beyond what it was, an unbroken line from that day in the Pisces lobby, to now.
When he pulled back to look down at where I lay beneath him, there was no trepidation left on his face, only something much more eventual. A kind of certainty that felt like the moment where you turned into the current instead of fighting against it, and now that I was in the waves, I wanted to be swept under.
Watching the way his chest moved with each breath made my own hitch, even as something deeper coiled low in my belly. I fidgeted under his stare, inadvertently rubbing my thighs together and drawing his attention, before his eyes flicked back up to mine.
“I can’t take my eyes off you,” he said darkly, any trace of gentleness gone.
“I don’t want you to” I said, breathless, reaching for the tie that held my robe closed. Almost faster than I could see, he grasped my hand, holding it in his and stilling my movement. Confused, I looked up at him. He ran his fingers over my wrist before guiding it onto the pillow above my head, holding it there.
“Let me,jagiya. I want to unwrap my birthday present.”
Holy hell.
“Your birthday was weeks ago,” I argued.
“I am a patient man. I remember the first time I found you wearing one of these,” he murmured, toying with the tie holding the white fabric together. “It drove me mad, even then, knowing you were naked underneath.”
He took my other hand, and placed it on the pillow above my head to join my other one. When he leaned down, his hips settled against mine. I gasped when I felt his hard length through the fabric separating us. Smirking, he looked down at me, holding both my hands above my head, gently but firmly.
“I’ll take care of you,jagiya.”
I knew he would.
He released my hands and straightened above me. As he did, he flexed, muscles bunching under smooth skin, making me itch to touch him. My fingers twitched, but I kept them where they were.
He looked down at me as if I was everything he’d ever wanted.
He reached for the tie on my robe, holding my eyes as he pulled it, slowly. The fabric sliding apart, displaying a line of skin that ran from my throat, between my breasts, down my navel, and to the tops of my thighs.
He drew in a sharp breath as his eyes travelled down that runway. He put his hands on me, just above my navel, and I twitched as his warm palms seemed to burn. His eyes slid up to meet mine and he licked his lips. I took in a shudderinginhale that shifted my robe further apart. I watched, fixated as he moved his palms upwards. His fingers dipped under the robe, until his hands met my breasts. He paused, holding me gently in his hands as the robe parted further, falling on either side, exposing me to his hungry gaze.
“Cheonsa,” he groaned, running his thumbs over my peaked nipples. I arched my back, breath leaving me in strained pants.
He cupped me in his hands, squeezing gently before lowering his mouth and nipping me gently, grinning up at me when I squeaked. Fascinated, I watched as he soothed the small hurts with his tongue, flicking me in maddening bursts that seemed to resonate deeper within my body, before taking one raised peak in his mouth and sucking gently.
I gasped, straining against the confines of his body, bucking my hips off the bed to collide with his. He released his mouth with one last, broad swipe of his tongue.
Jihoon looked at me with unrestrained longing, and lowered his hips onto mine, letting me know exactly what my body did to his.
“You are perfect,” he hissed, grinding against me with unrestrained abandon, drawing a long, drawn-out moan from me.
He lifted off me, and when I watched him put two fingers into his mouth, I almost expired, because in the next moment, he pulled them out and – holding my gaze – trailed his wet fingers down my abdomen. I squirmed, until he reached the part of me that ached for him the most. He slid his hand down the centre of me, pausing to trace soft circles before pushing his fingers inside, slowly, watching my face the entire time. There was no resistance, I was already so wet for him.
I threw my head back, mouth pulled wide in a wordless cry, my body bowing.
I moved my hips in time to his fingers, uncaring about the sounds I made, only seeing the look on his face. Desperation and restraint. From where he kneeled between my thighs, I felt him rocking, as if he couldn’t help himself.
He stroked his thumb over me in time to the thrust of his fingers, and it wasn’t long before I began to climb higher and higher, nerves pulled as tight as guitar strings, until – finally – I snapped, crying out and thrashing underneath him as starbursts of pleasure cascaded outwards, like the fading sparks of a firework.
I opened my eyes to see Jihoon staring down at me, panting as if our roles were reversed. I reached for him, but he surprised me, gently batting my hands away.
“Put your hands back on the pillow,cheonsa,” he growled.
I frowned but did as he said.
