I barely focused on what my hips were doing, so lost to the sensation of Joon being inside me, and watching his eyes as he alternated between watching me and where we were joined.
He moaned my name, along with a string of Korean that came out too guttural for me to understand, but I understood the sounds he made well enough.
That I had forgotten how this felt with him was unthinkable.
Self-preservation.
My pace began to falter as the inferno began to build in me. He started to move under me, no longer content to have me setting our pace. He gripped me and helped me to rise, and fall, even as he thrust upwards, driving me further, and harder to the point of oblivion for the third time that night.
“Ah, Joon,” I cried, uncaring at how loud I was, at how my breath sawed in and out of me in staccato pants. “Fuck, I’m–”
I tried to keep my eyes open, needing to see the look of desperation on his face. I was trying so hard to hold my release at bay, I didn’t want this to end, because I knew. I knew it wouldn’t happen again.
But he knew me too well.
“Come for me,jagiya,” he growled, jaw clenched. “This isn’t our last time. I belong to you.” He gasped, eyes nearly rolling back as I tightened around him as the first explosion of my orgasm tore through me.
I reached for him, and he reached back, holding onto me as shudders shook my body. He surged upwards, curling against me as he panted into my neck, and I felt him release inside me a moment later. He latched onto my throat, like I’d done to him, and together we rode the downwards momentum of our orgasm, grasping each other and holding on for dear life. Like there was no moment besides this one.
And that could be true. For now.
Chapter 48
Afterwards, we stayed wrapped around each other until our hearts had stopped racing, not wanting to let go.
Jihoon couldn’t seem to stop touching me, even in the small ways, like running his fingers up my arm, pressing his face to my shoulder, wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me across the bed to him. I could feel his smile as he pressed kisses to my neck, and it ignited something in my belly. A tiny, fluttering I barely recognised. Didn’t know if I could feel again.
Eventually, I insisted we shower. It wasn’t even a question that we share one. He hadn’t let me clean myself, despite my attempts to take the washcloth from him.
“I made the mess, I should clean it up,” he grinned down at me, holding the cloth out of my reach. “Let me take care of you, jagiya.”
So, I let him. I let him love me in all the ways he hadn’t been able to since that cold morning, so long ago, in an airport a long way from here.
Neither one of us seemed to want to sleep, because sleep meant saying goodbye to the night time hours where anything felt possible, unlike the cold light of day, where it was be harder to hide.
Instead, I lay on his chest, listening to his heart thump steadily beneath me, while he ran his fingers up and down my back in soothing motions.
He was still so beautiful to me. His body felt the same, even though there were new lines, new contours shaped in our years apart, and everything he had gone through to get to where we were now.
There were new scars, too. Little nicks, and cuts here and there. His hands were especially noticeable. More callused than they’d been before, but still warm and strong as. Safe.
He was unmistakably him. Just changed. I guess we both were.
We tried to fight it, but sleep came for both of us, and though I tried to deny it, I felt more at peace at that moment than I had in so long.
Which was why, when my watch gently woke me up a couple of hours later, my heart ached to look down at his sleeping form.
Because this would be goodbye. It always had been.
I dressed quickly, and quietly, having already packed my bag the night before.
I almost got away with it.
“Where are you going?” His sleepy voice made me turn, and whatever he saw on my face had him bolting upright in bed.
“You’re leaving?”
I nodded. “I have a flight to catch.”
