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springseasonie · 4 months

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Two worlds apart Pt. 2 | JJH (M)

Prince Jaehyun x maid fem reader, arranged marriage trope, forbidden love trope

Part 1.

Summary: reckless decisions always have a bittersweet ending.

Warnings: sexual content, some fluff, lots of angst, penetrative sex, oral (fem receiving), standing sex, unprotected, praising, possessive Jaehyun, pregnancy, he's a munch 🤭, angst, bittersweet ending, bridgerton esque, historically inaccurate, story takes place within a couple of weeks it's kinda fast ik I'm sorry

Word count: 17k

Song recs: promise by laufey, how does it make you feel by Victoria Monet

A/n: awkwardly laughs...hey guys its taken me too long to write this and it's not even that great but I'm satisfied so pls enjoy it sorry for the wait Ilya 🤍 feedback is love and appreciated as always 🤍🤍

Jaehyun was practically chasing Rose down the corridor as she walked fast trying to get away from him, shoes clicking on the shiny marble floor. "Rose, please-"

"I don't want to speak to you," she said, gripping her gown tighter as she pulled it from the floor as she walked.

Jaehyun quickly caught up to her, taking her arm in his hands. She quickly snatched it out of his grasp, giving him a nasty glare. Jaehyun had never been looked at that way, and she could tell by the way his face twisted into an offended expression. Rose had not only found out about him leaving her alone to be with you the night prior, but also about him sleeping with you. She knew what she was getting herself into, but she didn't know how draining it could be. It's only been a couple of days, but time is running out as each second passes.

"I said I don't want to speak to you. I don't even want to look at you," she spat, face still and cold as ice.

"Well I don't care what you want," the prince snapped. "I don't want this. I never asked for this."

"And you think I did." Her voice rang out through the halls, her anger bouncing off the stained glass windows. By this point, any and everyone in the castle knew very well about the details of Jaehyun's affair. "All I asked from you is to at least bed me before you went and live whatever fantasies you had with that wench-"

"Don't you dare call her that." Jaehyun's voice lowered as he stared down at the princess, a dangerous glint in his eyes. But Rose isn't known to be the kind of woman to back down. She's scared of no one, not even her parents.

Rose turned around, facing him fully in all his anger. His ears were red, jaw clenched as he stared down at her icy exterior. "Wench, whore, prostitute. Whatever she is, I do not care. If she shows signs of being with child in the next couple of months, you can expect her to be outside of my castle."

"This is my castle. You are on my land in my country and she will not be going anywhere," he declared, but all Rose did was laugh in his face.

"I am your princess, your queen, your wife. I will do as I please in these walls. All I want is an heir and we will be done with this nonsense," she says. Rose quickly turns and walks away, butler tailing her as she quickly removes herself from the situation.

All Jaehyun could do was let out an exasperated sigh in the middle of the hall. He knew she shouldn't go to you, but that's all he could think of. You were the only person who could comfort him at the moment, and he needed to see you, and so he will. So against his better judgment he trudged down the hall, butler following behind him closely to keep his pace.

"Prince, you mustn't act recklessly," his butler said, keeping a close eye on him.

"And why not," Jaehyun snaps, running down the marble staircase. "Rose hasn't even been here for 30 days and is already irking my nerves."

"My grace, I understand that you're angry now, but-"

The prince turned around, annoyed and jaw clenching at the conversation. "If I can't have anything else in this world, at least let me have my anger." Jaehyun knew that even after saying that, it would never happen. Nothing ever truly belonged to him. Everything belonged to the crown. The only thing that would ever be his was the air he breathed, but was that even his? He never felt like it, not when his mother and father have been telling him what and how to do anything since he was born.

Jaehyun knew his life would never truly be his. His family, his love, his legacy would never be his, but one thing he could say was that you were his. And you wanted to be his, and if either one of you wanted that, he would have to fight for it in any way that he could. Jaehyun was serious about loving you, he always has been. He would give up anything and everything to be by your side forever.

"My prince, your mother is very worried about you," his butler spoke. "She says you've been more careless than usual."

"Well that's the kind of thing that happens when you lie to your children." The two walked through the second largest corridor of the property towards the main kitchen. Jaehyun knew you'd be in there at this time. You had the same schedule almost everyday, not that he had memorized it (he definitely did).

Jaehyun barged into the kitchen, startling everyone, forcing them to turn to the door. Like always, the group of people, including yourself bowed or curtsey towards him and his butler.

"Your grace," everyone greeted in unison.

Jaehyun shot everyone a small smile, bowing slightly when his eyes caught you in the back of the room. You had been avoiding him since the night of the ball. Everything in him regretted what he did knowing that you didn't want to be his mistress. But unfortunately, he didn't feel completely guilty. You avoided his very obvious gaze, looking elsewhere in the room in an attempt to silently tell him to leave you be, but of course it did not work.

"Everyone step outside please," he said, a deep voice rushing through the room. The staff started to scurry, not wanting to face the prince's volatile anger. They could all tell that he was on edge, not in the right mind. You followed behind everyone, trying to hide, but Jaehyun is very perceptive.

"Except for you."

You looked up, his round deep brown eyes looking down at you cold, as if you were in trouble. And you were constantly running away from him anytime he was near. Jaehyun let the rest of the castle staff out, pulling you aside. His butler followed the staff, stepping out, but standing in front of the door making sure no one else came in.

His broad frame turned to you, folding his hands at his waist as he spoke. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

"You grace, I have not been avoiding you," you answer calmly. You were not in the mood to speak to him or anyone else for that matter. Having to work so closely with his wife has been mentally tormenting you enough, you didn't want to add more to the list.

"Y/N, you have been avoiding me since the ball," he said, squinting his eyes at your formal speech.

"I have not. I've been busy. I, too, have responsibilities," you retort.

Jaehyun sighed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He was about to become angry, and when he got angry, he had a tendency to yell. He did not want to yell at you however, so he had to reign his anger back.

"I know you have been avoiding me. Tell me why, and I will not take no for an answer."

You were taken back by his assertiveness. Jaehyun had ever spoken to you this way, almost as if he was demanding you to speak. You stared up at him, giving him a dry laugh before scoffing. He knew exactly why you were avoiding him, and anyone else of power for that matter.

"Don't you dare scoff at me. I am your king-"

"You are a prince. And you did not care when you abandoned your wife during a ball to bed me," you snapped.

"It was on a wall."

"Nevertheless," you continued, "you did the very thing I asked you not to do. I do not want to be your mistress. I do not want to be pregnant. If I cannot have all of you, I will not have you. Jaehyun, please understand that this is for the both of us."

"Y/N, I love you, and there is no one, especially you, who could make me stop." And he meant every word. Never in a million years would he ever let anyone talk to him the way you just did, but it didn't even register in his brain to be upset. Not when you stood there, food all over your apron, flour on your cute angry face.

You watched his hardened face begin to soften, realizing your words weren't getting through to him. He really did love you, and would be willing to do anything to keep you with him, and that scared you. Everyone knows how reckless and impulsive he is, and you did not want to be the reason for his impulsivity. With a heavy sigh, you shook your head as you looked at your feet.

"I'm scared," you confess.

"Of what?"

"If I am actually pregnant before the princess, I don't know what will become of me," you say.

"Nothing," he declared. "Nothing will become of you. I will protect you with my life, and I mean it."

"I don't need you to do that. What I need is space Jaehyun. I need you to give me as much space as we can get in this Castle." You watched his expression drop, sadness filling his eyes. He knew you were serious and didn't want to be apart from you for more than he could take, so for now he will agree, but not for long.

"Fine," he said, nodding. "I understand. But I need you to understand something also."

"And what is that?"

"I am your prince, and this is my castle." Jaehyun began to close the distance between the both of you, making you take steps back until you hit the counter. "You work for me, and any other royal under this roof, which means if I call for you, you must oblige."

"But Jaehyun, that's-"

"Do not question your prince." His body was dangerously close to yours, nose almost touching yours as he spoke. "You will do as I ask, understood?"

Jaehyun's lips ghosted above yours, trying so hard to not kiss you where you stood. His hands were folded behind his back as he breathed heavily. The tension was pressing on both of your chest, Jaehyun could feel your shaky breaths fanning on his face as you gulped. You could tell him a million times you didn't want him, but he knew that deep down, you wanted him. You needed him as much as he needed you.

He couldn't take the teasing anymore, eyes drooping as he stared down at your lips. Jaehyun didn't want to tell you, but he couldn't stop thinking about you since the night of the ball. Your body, your face, your voice. He didn't need to tell you though. Jaehyun is easy to read. The way he would stare at you when he caught a glimpse of you working, he would practically tear your clothes off with his eyes.

"I-I understand," you answered.

"Good. Now kiss me."

You locked your lips with his desperately, kissing him like your life depended on it. Jaehyun took his hands from behind his back, and placed them on your waist. Jaehyun pulled you close to him, mouth still on yours in a heated kiss. The feeling of your lips on his started to stir inside him, wanting to go further than just a kiss. He moved from your mouth to your jaw, kissing your face softly as you let your eyes flutter shut. Your hand moved to his cheek, cupping it softly.

"J-Jaehyun," you sigh softly.

That was almost enough to make him snap, but he held back and you could feel it in how hard he gripped your sides. "Just a little more Y/N. God, I've missed you so much." Jaehyun kisses down your neck, back to your face and on your lips. You moaned softly against his mouth, pushing him closer and closer to his limit. "You're killing me," he whined softly.

You missed his hands on you. You knew you wanted him all to yourself, and maybe you were being selfish at the moment indulging in his self destructive behaviors, but you needed him just one last time. You needed to feel his lips on yours, to know that he loves you and that he really did care.

"S-stop, we can't continue," you said against his lips. You were saying one thing, but your body told another story. You were leaning into him, holding him like you didn't want to let him go.

"Just a little more." He was now half hard under his pants. Jaehyun couldn't control himself when it came to you. You had so much power over him, and he secretly loved it.

"No, you have to go. Duties to tend to. And I have to tend to the kitchen."

Jaehyun finally let up, planting one more kiss before painfully pulling his entire body from you. You were the prettiest flustered mess he's ever seen. All he did was kiss you, but you were breathing heavily, blinking profusely. He couldn't help but stand there, smiling smugly to himself as he watched you attempt to gather yourself.

"I love you."

You looked up from your feet, Jaehyun's voice rattling you. There it was again, his sweet words coupled with his pretty face that always made your heart beat out your chest. You nodded, choosing to not respond to him.

"That was the last time Jaehyun. I mean it," you declared sternly.

He was still smiling to himself, nodding as you spoke. The both of you knew it wasn't going to be the last time, but he went along with what you said regardless.

"You agree, but you're not taking me seriously. I mean it Jaehyun," you repeated. "Now leave. We've been here for far too long."

"Of course, my lady. I will take my leave." He turned on his heels, walking towards the door. Before he left he turned to you, to say one more thing. "I will give you your space, but I want you to know that no matter what, I love you and will protect you at all cost."

"I understand," you sighed. "Now go, my prince."

You watched him walk out of the door, already feeling a longing for him. You knew it would probably be hard, but what you didn't know was that Jaehyun was going to make it near impossible.

Nothing between Jaehyun and Rose seemed to be getting better, and the staff in the castle are beginning to notice much more than before. Jaehyun leaves the castle a lot more often while Rose invites the women of the ton around more often. Being one of her main staff, you unfortunately had to be there with her and her constant complaints, like right now.

You poured everyone's tea, making it just like how they all requested it as they sat around you, conversing about things you never cared about. Jewels, food, parties, whatever it was rich people did. None of it mattered to you. It's not like you could ever love that kind of life, no matter how much you wanted to. You were merely a maid, an old one at that.

"So what exactly is it like being with the prince," Lady Clarke questioned, sipping her tea. Of course she wanted to know, all of the women wanted to know so they could gossip about it once they left.

"Well, it's.." Rose paused. She had nothing positive to say. Her and Jaehyun practically lived separate lives, separate bedrooms, separate staff; they were split but together. "It's a bit of a handful, but he's delightful."

You sensed the strain in her voice when complimenting him, along with her eyes being into your soul. You were the only one blocking her blessings, but it wasn't your fault. Being very aware of her resentment towards you for failing to end things with him the night of their ball, you constantly tried to remain as far from her as possible. However, Jaehyun insisted you help her on this day almost as if he was trying to torment her with your presence. You had no idea what he was thinking, but it couldn't be anything good.

"Your majesty, I'm sure you can give us more than that," Lady Webster chimed, making everyone laugh softly except for Rose.

You rolled your eyes watching the show in front of you. The ton's attempt at trying to be secretive about their body questions was annoying to you. You wanted very well to tune out of the conversation until you heard one thing.

"I heard there was a rumor of him having a mistress," another woman said.

Your ears piped along with Rose's body stiffening at the topic. She glanced at you quickly, going unnoticed by the other women but not by you. The glint of envy and anger in her eyes will never go away, not as long as her husband's heart remains with you. You knew she didn't want him to love her, but sometimes you wondered if she wasn't completely true in her intentions with him. Rose had always been used to being the center of attention, princess or not. It was strange for her not to be the center of his attention.

"Well, I know nothing of such a thing," Rose responded with a fake laugh.

The women of the ton laughed with her uncomfortably, giving each other worried glances. The room began to get stuffy, uncomfortable energy filling the space as they all went silent. You stood in the corner of the room, looking at the ground, because you knew you couldn't handle your facial expressions.

"W-well, it's only a rumor. I have no idea where it came from. It's most likely not true," she said.

"I mean, did you think it was true?" The princess's ice glare often scared whoever it landed on. She was beautiful and gracious, but never one to mess with. She wouldn't give you a second before out casting you.

"P-princess, of course I don't think it's true," the woman backtracked. "In fact, I think it's horrible. My grace having a mistress? Simply tasteless."

"I agree," Rose said, taking a sip of her tea. "Having a mistress is nothing new, but…" she looked at you, eyes meeting yours as she spoke. "Any woman who allows such things must be a whore, and I hate whores."

At this point, you were feeling a feeling you've never felt before. Was it guilt? Was it embarrassment? You didn't know, but your heart was beating out of your chest, anger rising the more she spoke.

"The prince is better than what some people think. He would never be so low to be in relations with a mere maid or commoner. He's too good for them."

Her words cut through your cool demeanor, a slight wince showing on your face as you kept your head down. You never wanted to admit it, but she was right. Jaehyun was way too good for you. The both of you were too different, which made it all the more difficult for him to leave you. Since the night of the ball, you couldn't stop thinking about what could become of you if you really were going to have a child. In a different universe, they would just force you to marry him. But here, you would be thrown out of the castle before he even knew about his illegitimate children. Suddenly, the call of your name snapped you out of your own head.

"Y/N, dear, will you take these to the kitchen? I feel our friends here are finished drinking," Rose said with her perfect, pretty, fake smile.

"Of course, you grace." Quickly, you grabbed everything, placing it on the tray on the table. Carefully you lifted the tray, making your way out the large bright room.

All you wanted on this trip to the Castle's kitchen was to make it there quickly and undisturbed. However, your secret lover had other plans. As if he planned it, Jaehyun, his butler, and one of their staff turned the corner, walking the opposite direction of you.

Once he caught a glimpse of you, his stone cold face warmed up a bit, a smirk tugging on his lips. You looked elsewhere trying to avoid eye contact. You said you needed space from him, so why does he have to be everywhere? And why do you want to go wherever he's going?

You walked a bit faster, trying to get past him and his staff when you tripped over your own feet. The cups on the tray rattled, porcelain threatening to tip over as you attempted to catch yourself and the metal tray.

"Bailey, please help her," Jaehyun said, motioning his arm to you. His butler did as he said, rushing to your aid. Bailey took the tray from your hands carefully, temporarily relieving you of the stress of carrying it.

"Hello," Jaehyun said to you, hands clasped behind his back.

"Your grace." You curtseyed, glancing up at him to see an amused look on his face.

"I sensed there was a lady who needed help so, here I am," he joked, but you remained serious. You knew why he came. It was simply to see you, to irk you, to speak to you. You already knew he wasn't going to take your words seriously but you didn't think he would disregard them in a couple of days.

The both of you stood silently, you were more awkward than him, until he spoke. "I need you to help me with something," he said, tilting his head to the side a bit.

"Yes, my grace, of course, but i-"

"Don't worry about Rose, I already sent someone else to help." Just at that moment, another maid walked past quickly going into the room with all the ladies.

You looked at him, eyes narrowing as he gave you that smug look you could never stand. If I call for you, you must oblige. You could curse him for those words, but unfortunately you weren't in private. "I understand your grace but-"

"I'm sorry," he chuckled dryly. Jaehyun took a small step closer to you followed by his guard, looking down at you with glossy eyes. He loves this "game" he thinks he's playing with you. The push and pull, tug of war. "Are you telling your prince no?"

"Your grace-"

"You know you shouldn't disobey your prince." Jaehyun spoke in a low, soft way, his tone gentle as he watched you. You were really trying to hold your own in this silent battle between you and him, but the way his tongue slips out against his lips, wetting them slightly is making your mind reel. He was so close, too close. You could hear his breathing and the way he looked at you made you feel like he was going to pounce on you. Unfortunately, you wanted him too.

Your heart was starting to Beat out of your chest, hands becoming clammy as you looked up at him. You gulped, pinching your lips together.

"So," he said, eyes darting to your lips. "You will come with me and help, yes?"

"Yes my grace."

"Good. At 6, Bailey will come get you, understood?"

"Yes my grace."

"Good. See you then."

Jaehyun crashed his lips onto yours, hands traveling all over your body, nothing but your slip keeping your skin from contact. His big hands groped every inch of you, arms wrapping around your body encasing you in his strength.

"Jaehyun, please slow down," you whine softly, eyes closed and brows furrowed as he kissed down your neck.

"I-I'm sorry I just really missed you," he said into your neck. Light of the sunset through the windows lit your face perfectly. "Get on the bed."

"You have to let go of me first."

Jaehyun gave you a small laugh, unwrapping his arms from around you. He watched you back away from him slowly, eyes never leaving your body as you laid on the bed. There you were, laying there just for him. Just like he wanted.

Jaehyun climbed on top of you, a small gasp leaving your lips when you felt the weight of his body on the bed. Jaehyun kissed you again, this time like his life depended on it. Your lips moved in harmony, the both of you in absolute bliss. When you kissed each other it felt like nothing else mattered, no one else mattered. Jaehyun wanted this forever, but you knew it could only be temporary.

Jaehyun kissed down your neck and along your collarbone softly, making your body rise in temperature. "You know," he said against your skin softly," you are doing a terrible job at keeping your distance from me."

"I had no choice," you sighed, fingers playing in his hair. "You sent your butler for me."

"Because I knew if I came, you would've refused." Jaehyun crawled down your body, watching you as you watched him. He took his right hand, grabbing the fabric that laid on your skin and pushing it up. The man chuckled, watching you shudder when the cool air hit your skin. His eyes darkened watching you try and close your legs, he opened them gripping your ankles firmly.

"Don't hide from me," he said softly. Jaehyun leaned down, face getting closer and closer between your legs. This was new, something you've never done before and you didn't know how to process it.

"W-what are you doing," you questioned, eyes wild with panic.

"I want to taste you." The breath from his lips was hitting your inner thigh. He watched you give him that look of complete bliss as he kissed the skin softly. "Will you allow me to?"

"Y-yes."

Jaehyun smiled against your skin, still looking into your eyes as he kissed your thighs again. Your breath hitch in your throat when you feel his soft lips on your swollen bud. He kisses it again, licking it softly as he watches your body twitch at the unfamiliar sensation. He wanted this for a long time, hands gripping the underside of your thighs holding your legs apart. Your soft sighs were like music to his ears, tongue still licking at you slowly as he allowed you to get more comfortable with the feeling.

"God," you sighed, hands reaching for his hair.

"Do you like it?" Jaehyun smiles to himself when you nod, wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking the bud of nerves softly. He feels your legs shake when the sensation shoots up your body.

Your fingers find themselves in his dark brown locks, eyes fluttering shut as he continues at a slow pace. Jaehyun gives you a slight pinch, making your body jump. You looked between your legs, his eyes dark with lust.

"Look at me," he said, voice deep. " Keep your eyes on me. I want you to think of this every time you see me."

Your body trembles, whines and whimpers, escaping your lips when Jaehyun goes all in on you. His tongue and lips move skillfully between your legs, the pleasure multiplying by a hundred. Jaehyun licked up your arousal, instantly becoming drunk off the taste of you. He needed this, he wanted this, to feel and be closer to you than ever before. To taste you, feel you, be lost in you.

Your brows furrowed, gulping at the way he flicked his tongue on your clit. His hands were still on your thighs, holding them so tight his fingertips were imprinted by now.

"J-Jaehyun, you feel so good," you whined softly. You pulled his hair making him look at you darkly. The way his tongue moved left you speechless, especially when the muscle made its way inside you, making your jaw drop slightly. "Oh God.."

He smirked to himself, tongue fucking you as he watched you lose yourself on the bed. If he could do this every day forever he would. Jaehyun's brows scrunched, feeling your hips move against his tongue. He watched your desperation rake all over your body, right hand no longer in his hair but on your nipples, pulling and twisting it. You tried hard to watch him, but you had no choice but to let your head fall back onto the bed taking in everything he was giving you.

Any other day, he would've stopped and made you look at him, but seeing you in absolute bliss, completely unable to control yourself was imprinted in his brain. "So pretty," he said, slurping your juices.

You felt Jaehyun take one hand off your leg, your head jolting up wondering if he was finished already. "D-don't stop yet," you whimpered softly.

"Don't worry my love," he cooed. Jaehyun took two fingers to your entrance, rubbing it slowly. You were so wet, fingertips glistening in the ray of sunshine that peeked through the stain glass. "You love me this much?"

You covered your face in embarrassment, knees coming together as your face heated up, but all he did was pull them apart. Jaehyun gently pulled your arms from your face, staring at you with a smile. "Don't hide from me," he whispered gently. Jaehyun took his hand back between your legs, circling his fingertips against your soaking entrance, sinking them inside of you. His face twisted in pleasure with your in unison, watching your eyes flutter shut once he gave you the stretch you needed. He pumped his fingers in you slowly, taking in your small whines.

Jaehyun watched as you reached for his other hand, holding your leg, taking it and pulling it towards your body, placing his rough palms on your breast.

"Touch me, please."

You have no idea the power you have over him. He's like putty in your hands at the moment, but you're so oblivious in how much he actually loves you, how much he wants to make you feel good. Jaehyun loves it when you whimper, when your voice cracks from the overwhelming amount of pleasure like just now.

He kept fingering you, squeezing and pinching your chest adding more pleasure. He couldn't get enough of the way you arched into his hand, grinded your body into his fingers. "That's it," he mumbled softly. "Keep going."

You were so wet, your arousal all over your inner thighs and his hands. Even the bed was wet, but neither you or Jaehyun had the chance to notice. Not when he was starting to speed up his fingers. You gulped, brows furrowing as you moaned softly.

"Jaehyun.."

Your eyes were now opened, vision flickering between his face and his hands. You loved that look he gave you. The gentle, but dominant expression on his face. As if his only purpose was to make you feel good. You would never tell him but you craved it. You craved his attention no matter how much you pushed him away. You craved that look in his eye when you felt like the only girl in the world.

"Doesn't it feel good," he mumbled, a small smile grazing his lips. He licked his lips, watching your body shiver under his touch, your cunt squeezing around his fingers. Jaehyun means down, nipple rolling between his fingers as he kisses you on your neck tenderly.

You nodded, hand cradling the back of his head as he kissed your skin. Jaehyun lifted his head, eyes darting straight to your lips. You missed each other softly as you moaned softly into his mouth. Kisses soon turned into lips touching, pants and whimpers filling the air as he worked his hand inside of you. The curl of his fingers left you gasping for air, back arching onto his chest.

"Jaehyun, please. I'm so close," you said, voice cracking into a whisper. Just at that moment, he pulled his fingers out of you, the high you desperately wanted to reach snatched away from you. "N-no," you whined.

"Don't worry, Y/N.."

You watched him, mouth gone dry, as he undressed himself. First, his shirt, then his shoes, then everything else. You laid watching him become bare in front of you. This is the most skin you've ever seen from him and surprisingly, you weren't that off put. You always knew he had a perfect body. He was fit, muscular everywhere. Arms, legs , chest, your eyes naturally stopped in his middle, making him grin.

"I love seeing you like this," he said, eyes glazing over your body as he climbed on top of you. Jaehyun spread your legs wider, chuckling softly when you jumped underneath him. He lines himself with you, rubbing his tip against your folds slowly as he watches you with lidded eyes."Do you want this as much as I do?"

Before you could even get out an answer, he pushed himself in you slowly, the feeling of you around him making him hiss. You let out a strangled whimper, head falling back onto the mattress. "Yes," you nodded. "I want this so much."

Jaehyun thrusted in you long and slow, not wanting to end this too quickly. He wanted to be wrapped up like this with you forever, skin on skin, listening to your heart beat, taking in every single breath. He was completely wrapped up in your body, scent, sound that he didn't hear knocking on the door. Not until you spoke.

"J-Jaehyun, someone's knocking," you said panicked but all he did was look down at you with a smile, continuing his pace.

"Don't worry about it," he said softly.

"Your majesty, there's someone here to see you," Bailey said from outside the door.

"Tell them I'm busy and I'll be out in a minute," he yelled back, hands still on your body. Turning his attention back to you, he notices the dress in your brows, giving away your worries.

"Stop worrying," he whispered, kissing you. "Just be quiet for me."

Jaehyun started thrusting in your faster, the crease in your brows depending as he went deep into you. You were a mess. You bit your lip hard, trying to keep yourself from making any unbecoming sounds after he told you to quiet, but Jaehyun had no idea how good you felt at the moment. Sweat collecting on your face, body as hot as a stove as he continued to drive himself into you.

Reaching up, you pulled him down to your body kissing him hard, his mouth collecting your moans to muffle them. His hips moved melodically, making you pull away from his lip and whimpers against his mouth. You opened your eyes to see him staring right at you, his pretty face glistening with sweat. Jaehyun rested his forehead against yours, eyes never leaving you as his thrust became more erratic.

"I love you so much," he groaned softly. He took one of your hands from his neck, placing it between the both of you. "Touch yourself, let yourself go for me darling."

"Jaehyun, oh God." His name fell from your mouth like water as you rubbed your clit along with his thrust. You pulsed around him, squeezing around his cock over and over and over again. And for some reason, despite your protest from the last time, you didn't want him to pull out.

You wanted him, all of him. You know how wrong it is, to have the children of a married man. The prince's bastard children. But in the moment it felt so good, so right. But you can't have that, not now, not ever.

You came hard around him, your choked moans erupting from your throat louder than you hoped. Jaehyun didn't seem to care, still thrusting into your sensitive hole. You were weak, unable to keep yourself quiet any longer. Your whines and whimpers filled the space, body still tangled in his.

"Tell me you love me," he said in your ear.

Your brain was so foggy, pleasure filling every thought in your mind. "I love you," you moaned breathlessly.

Jaehyun's orgasm crashed into him, the man pulling out of you just in time making sure to make the same mistake he did a week ago. He held onto you tight, grip so tight on your waist it stung. He tried to hold himself up, but he was so weak at the moment he crashed right on top of you. But you didn't mind. You basked in his warmth, your breaths matching his as the both of you came down from your highs.

A couple of beats of silence passed by before anyone spoke. "I love you Y/N," he said against your skin.

Lots of time has passed and you haven't heard from or spoken to Jaehyun. You've seen him in the halls of course, walking past or taking a peek out of the window. He looked good like always. Regal, handsome, yours. He wasn't yours though, he was Rose's. He was her's and despite telling yourself that it was never going to be you, you hated it.

You tried not to hate it, but it became increasingly difficult seeing them together, playing house when you knew they disliked each other so much. Working so closely with Rose and over hearing her chats with the ton didn't make it easier. She didn't care how badly she talked about anything in front of these women. Calling other maids names, being rude to you, sometimes lying to make her life as queen look better than it actually was.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn't rest on this night. You and the rest of the staff were running around the palace for the current ball taking place on the palace grounds. You wanted to focus so badly on your task but every time you see Jaehyun, you want to run to him. Good thing he gave you a note saying to meet him at 12. It was now 11:55, so you were on your way sneaking away from the party of nobles and royals.

You made haste quickly. No one would notice you were gone, guests were half way drunk, other maids had their hands full, guards watching the perimeter like hawks. You didn't see Jaehyun, assuming he was at the meeting spot. Rose was strangely away, but you thought nothing of it. Slipping past the crowd of people was like second nature. You walked into the palace and went straight up the stairs. Your footsteps were quiet as there was supposed to be no one there at the moment.

Your senses were heightened, not wanting to get caught in the empty hallway. But you noticed something strange. Rose's bedroom door was open. No one should've been there at the moment. You know who shouldn't check, every second away from Jaehyun means less and less time with him, despite wanting space. But you walked in against your better judgment.

And there she was. Rose stood on her balcony silently gazing out at the ocean right across from her. Her hair blew in the wind, adding much to her beard in the scene already. She looked… sad, content. Like she was lost in thoughts. It was unlike her, but you couldn't help. All you had to do was slip back out and get to Jaehyun as soon as-

"Don't leave so quickly," she said, making you jump. "I promise you'll have your time with him."

She spoke quietly and softly as if she didn't want anyone else to hear. You had no idea what she was going to do or say, but stayed put nonetheless. You felt the cool air from the ocean on your skin, making you shiver as Rose turned to face you. The only other source of light was the candle near the doorway lighting you up.

"I don't hate you," she said, hands folded to her front. "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting."

A few beats of silence passed before you spoke. "You have nothing to apologize for my grace."

You and her knew that was a lie. She'd been terrible to you since she found out about your relationship with the prince. You never expected her to apologize. Royals never apologize, feeling like they can say or do whatever because of their status.

"There's a lot of people relying on me. I'm sure you understand," she said softly. "My home country… everyday we are on the verge of war and I…"

"I, too, had someone."

Your breath hitched at her sudden confession, staring at the mix of longing and sadness in her eyes. Rose sighed, looking down at the ground as she swallowed hard. You never would've guessed she had any part of her life that wasn't shrouded by her responsibilities as a princess.

"What happened," you asked quietly.

"We were together, but…we knew it would never last." Rose released a shaky sigh, closing her eyes to try and stop herself from tearing up. "Everyday, I miss him."

"Did you love him?"

Rose opened her eyes, mouth parting slightly to answer, but all she did was keep quiet and nod. Her hands were still crossed, but she was squeezing them tightly trying not to get too emotional the moment.

"We were inseparable in that castle, just like you and Jaehyun. The both of you remind me of us so much, it makes me sad. My parents forbade me to marry a commoner and sent me here. I knew absolutely no one or anything about this place. Everyday I just want to be with him. When I see you and Jaehyun, I feel…. I don't know how I feel."

"I-I'm sorry," you say, making her scoff.

"Please do not pity me. I knew what my life would be as soon as I was out of the womb," she mumbled pointedly. "I just wish that he could be here, that's all. Even if I couldn't stay with him in the way that I wanted, I just wish he was near me."

"What's his name," you asked.

"John," she answered shortly. "He's a knight. Tall, strong, courageous."

You watched her soften when talking about him. If Jaehyun could tell people about the both of you, is this how he would be? You wondered if he would look as in love as Rose did at the moment. "Well, I'm sure John misses you also."

"I want him to miss me as much as I miss him, but the last time we saw each other…" Rose stopped talking, a frown on her lips as she recounted the memories of their last meeting. "I don't even know if he's a knight anymore."

"My grace, I'm sure whatever happened was not-"

"My parents - the king and queen - caught us Y/N," she said, a slight shadow of guilt slashing across her face.

You knew how serious this was, especially for a princess. Sleeping with a knight? If word got out, it would be the end of her. women were supposed to be angels, pure. For you, it didn't matter much, you were just a maid after all. But Rose knew what that could mean for her.

"I was too stupid to say no to his advances because I loved him so much and without thinking we… did something we weren't supposed to. It reminds me of you and Jaehyun."

You tilted your head not understanding her words. "I don't understand, my grace."

"Do you think people don't see the way you look at each other? The way his gaze lingers on you or how the two of you run off for minutes or hours at a time? I know you might think it's not that serious but once you're in deep, you can hardly tell when you should dig yourself out." Rose let out a frustrated sigh, groaning as her perfect princess stature melted away for a second. She rested her face in her hands, giving you a deep sigh. "What I'm trying to say is I barely know the both of you and I don't want you or him to end up like John and I. He watched me leave him for good because of a mistake we made together. Yes, I am jealous of you both but I am only a person."

"Princess, I understand. I-"

"No," she said sternly, taking a step towards you. "I know you think that because I told you this, you think you understand me but you don't. I am here in a place where I do not belong. I did not ask to be here. I am in a country that I know nothing about. I do not know the food, the customs, the people, let alone their royal family. I am here to prevent my home from being destroyed in a war. With you and Jaehyun running around, unable to bear a child, I cannot make sure that my country is safe. I cannot make sure that John is safe."

All her words hit you like a storm. You always understood that this marriage was hard for her, going from one place to another, but you never imagined that it would take this much of a toll on her. Rose always puts up a strong front, never allowing people to know or hear her weaknesses. Her reputation for being ice cold didn't just come from nowhere, but now you've seen a new side of her. You didn't know if it was caring or just pure panic. She was genuinely distraught about the possibility of not being able to have a child with the prince. And for the first time in a while, you felt for her. You pitied her.

"Princess," you called out, breaking the silence. "I fear the prince and I may have-"

"Enough." You turned around, startled, when seeing Jaehyun walking to the room. He grabbed your wrist, face lit with irritation. "I heard every word. Y/N, I need to speak to you now. Rose, I will speak to you later."

"Jaehyun–"

You didn't get much of a say in the matter as you dragged out of the room, the door slamming behind him. He pulled you down the hall in silence. His grip on your wrist tightened the faster he walked, both of your footsteps filling the silence. Jaehyun pulled you into the castle's library, which was very empty at the moment. The dust sparkled in the air, shining in the moonlight hiding behind the stained glass. It was dark, the only thing keeping you from bumping into a shelf was the tiny bit of light shining in the middle.

Jaehyun pulled you into an assortment of unorganized piles of books, moving through them like a maze as you tried your hardest to not trip over your own feet. He still hadn't said a word to you but you could tell he was furious. Jaehyun took you and pinned you against the shelf.

"What did I tell you?"

His voice was strangely calm, making you furrow your brows. You stared at him, analyzing his face. "Jaehyun, what are you talking about?"

"If I call for you, you must oblige," he said echoing his words from a while ago.

"Jaehyun, we were talking-"

"I don't care what you were doing. I don't want her putting strange thoughts in your head."

You scoffed, pushing his body away from yours. "She's not putting thoughts in my head. You seem to forget that I am my own person with my own thoughts."

"Y/N, I know you are your own person, but I worry that-"

"You worry what, hm? That I'll tell you we need time apart? That I'll end this for good and break your heart," you interrupt. You watch Jaehyun's exasperated expression fall flat.

"Well is that what you want? Do you want to end this and break my heart?"

"Goodness, Jaehyun, no I do not want to end this," you whined frustrated. "But we have not been careful. I tried to put up some kind of a wall between us but I love you too much."

"We have been careful Y/N. No one but my mother and Rose knows," he said, grabbing your hands, but you took them away from him.

"And do you think what happened in your office was us being careful? It was the day after your wedding and I could be pregnant right now," you said with a frown. "I will be thrown out of this castle and never see you again. Is that what you want?"

"I won't let that happen," he declared. Jaehyun sounded confident but he clearly lacked the resolve. It would happen whether he wanted it to or not. There wasn't much he could do but cherish his time with you and that's exactly what he was going to do.

"You know you can't do that. You know you have no control over that. This is a mess, all of this is-"

Jaehyun grabbed your face, kissed you hard, shutting you up. You stumbled, back hitting the bookshelf as he caressed your cheeks with his thumbs. You began to melt into his touch, letting your eyes shut as you kissed him back softly. Jaehyun pulled away slowly, watching you open your eyes to look at him.

"I don't want to fight anymore," he mumbled. "I'm sorry for everything. I just don't want to fight with you. I love you."

"I understand. Don't blame yourself." You looked at him with a slight pout, hurt filling your heart seeing him so distraught.

"It's my fault. All of this is my fault. If these really are my last moments with you, can we spend them doing something else instead." Jaehyun couldn't control himself, eyes flickering to your lips to your neck.

Jaehyun was clearly not in the right frame of mind and neither were you, so you obliged despite the little voice in your head telling you no. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him to you, kissing him deeply. Jaehyun followed your rhythm, arms wrapping around your waist. His lips molded with your naturally, sighing softly finally feeling the weight being lifted off his chest.

You slowly took your arms from around his neck, lips never parting as you began to remove his jacket. Jaehyun took his arms from around you and took the fabric off. You made your way to his waist, unbuttoning the tiny objects. Jaehyun smiled against your lips knowing you always struggled with his buttons.

"Allow me," he mumbled, removing your hands. Jaehyun unbuttoned his clothes with ease, lips still on yours the whole way through. You reached behind you removing your apron, letting it drop on the ground. Jaehyun pulled away from you, spinning your body around without saying a word. His fingers worked on the buttons, eyes boring into the back of your neck. The tension and the sound of fabric moving was enough to fill the silence. Once he finished, he pulled the dress off your shoulders gently, taking in the way his fingertips gilded against your skin.

Your breath hitched as you turned your head to face him. He stared at you with heavy lidded eyes, pupils dilated with lust. He kissed you, hands still on your dress. He pulled the sleeves off your arms, pushing it directly to the floor. Pulling away from him, you stepped out of the puddle of clothes. You turned to him, pulling his body to yours. Jaehyun placed his hands on your waist, squeezing it softly as he kissed your neck. You reached up sighing blissfully at the feeling of his lips on your skin and pulled the shirt off him, leaving his upper half completely bare.

Jaehyun shuddered under your touch, pulling away and watching you as you ran your hands down his chest. Your chest moved rapidly, heart racing being in this compromising position.

"You're so pretty," he whispered, kissing your forehead.

You didn't say anything, just simply stood there with begging eyes.

"What do you want me to do," he said, eyes darting all over your clothed body.

"Anything. Do anything to me."

Without being told twice, Jaehyun dropped to his knees in front of you. There was something so unnatural about seeing him on his knees. Jaehyun would never be on his knees for anyone or anything, his pride would never allow it. He's never begged or cried for anything in his life being a man of great power and influence. But you're different. He'd gladly beg and cry for you. He'd kiss your feet if you asked.

You watch him sink to his knees, gulping deeply as he looks up at you with an intense stare. The library is still fairly dark, but you can see him clearly. Something about him being on his knees for you made your mind race, making you grow hotter and hotter.

"I want to taste you Y/N," he said quietly. "Can I?"

You nodded, hands clinging to the only other clothing on your body. You pulled the undergarment up, exposing your body to the man below you. Jaehyun took your hips in his hands, fingertips tickling you as he ran them up and down your skin. Jaehyun pressed small intimate kisses on your thighs watching you through his long lashes. You were breathing heavily, so turned on by the feel of his lips on your legs.

Jaehyun continued to stare up at you as he nudged himself between your legs, licking your pussy softly. Your body jerked, the feeling sending a familiar sensation through your body. He licked again, digging his tongue into you slightly. Jaehyun smirked to himself when you spread your legs wider. He took his hand from your hips to your waist, caressing every inch of you while licking you over and over again.

Jaehyun's tongue moved skillfully, relishing in the sounds you let out above him. You tasted so good to him, he was definitely addicted and he knew it. He needed this all the time, to be under you, pleasuring you and making you feel good. He ate you out passionately, licking and sucking on every bit of you.

"W-wait, do that again," you moaned quietly.

"This?" Jaehyun wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking it. His brows furrowed feeling your legs trembling. The sight of you alone would make him cum, but he wouldn't mind that at all.

"God, yes," you whimpered. You pulled your slip up further, hands tightening on the fabric as you watched him with glassy eyes.

"You like it this much?" Without letting you answer, he sucked your clit hard. Jaehyun's cock jumped in his pants hearing your loud whine echo in the dark room. He took a hand off your waist, fingers trailing down your stomach right above your pussy. Jaehyun removed his mouth from your clit only to lift the hood with his thumb, staring at the swollen bud with a smug smile.

"I love this pretty clit," he muttered under his breath. Jaehyun took his other hand off your waist as he flicked his tongue on your clit, fingers creeping up your legs. It was all too much, every word, movement, breath. You were overstimulated like hell, but you enjoyed it.

You felt Jaehyun begin to rub your inner thigh gently, biting your lip softly. Jaehyun slowly pushed two fingers into your soaking core, making you gasp softly at the sudden feeling. Unconsciously, you began to move your hips in his mouth and fingers. Jaehyun furrowed his brows, fingers pumping in you trying to keep up your pace. He stopped flicking your clit, placing a soft kiss on the sensitive spot"And to think you thought you could stay away from me," he said, kissing your thighs. "Do you think you still can?"

"N-no," you stuttered, hips still grinding at a steady pace. Sweat glistened on your forehead, heavy breathing and soft whimpers flooding Jaehyun's ears and all he can think about is how wet, warm, and tight you are around his fingers.

Jaehyun swallows hard, his erection becoming painfully tight underneath his pants. But he can't get up just yet. You look beautiful from this view and he wishes he could be here all the time. He begins to like and suck your clit again, making you whine loudly.

"Cum for me. Cum on my tongue and fingers."

He kept sucking your clit, pumping his fingers in you faster than your pace. The squelching noises of your dripping cunt rang through his ears.

"I'm so close," you whined. You let go of your dress with one hand, reaching down to grab his hair. You pulled him closer to your body, leaning back onto the shelf. The smell of books and sex intoxicated your nose, senses at an all time high as you began to feel yourself come closer and closer.

Jaehyun felt you squeeze around his fingers, eyes stuck on your face as you came above him. Your breathy whimpers and furrowed brows turning him on even more. You let go of his hair, body shaking from the intense orgasm. Jaehyun stood up, fingers still inside you. He kissed you hard, the taste of yourself on his lips tongue exciting you. Jaemin pulls his fingers out of you, pulling away from your lips as he stuck them in his own mouth, sucking you cum and arousal off the digits.

"Jaehyun, don't do things like that," you say, heat creeping across your skin as you watch him.

Jaehyun chuckles to himself, your words moving through him like air. In a split second you, he forcefully turns you around so that you're pressed against the case. Your face smudged on the backs and fronts of books and his hands pulled up your dress, all in a silent swift motion.

"You need me," he said quietly but sternly in your ear.

You remained silent, unable to concentrate on giving an answer unbuttoning his pants. Jaehyun pulled his hard cock out, already leaking precum. Jaehyun grabs your hips, pulling them closer to him. Taking his cock in his hand, he lines himself with your entrance.

"You love me," he whispered, sinking himself into your body with ease. Your heart beats fast as your head falls back onto his shoulder, ass arching against him in the best way possible. Jaehyun's chest was pressed against your back, forcing you to feel his sporadic breathing as you squeezed around him.

"Don't ever try and run away from me," he says in a deep, low tone. Jaehyun thrust in you slowly and steadily, savoring every single second. "You said we needed a break, but here we are" – he kisses the back of your ear, his breathy moans making your heart flutter – "once again pressed against each other."

Jaehyun's words should've alarmed you. You should've wanted this to stop as soon as he opened his mouth, but every word he said was true. You can't stay away from him. You're not as strong as you thought you were and probably never will be. You shivered feeling his fingers pull down the thick strap of your slip, his lips kissing your shoulder softly.

"You like this don't you? The sneaking around, the sweet things I tell you, the sacrifices I'm willing to make." Jaehyun dings his fingers into your sides, pulling you closer to him as he thrust deeper and deeper into you. Your shaky breaths turn into moans, brows scrunched as you pressed your face against the shelf. "Say it. Say you like it."

"I-I like it," you moan breathlessly.

He begins to thrust in you faster, the rhythm in his hips making you close your eyes. "I love you so much," he says, lips brushing on the lip of your ear. The warmth from his body wrapped around you, allowing you to melt into his body. Your hands held onto the structure in front of you, fingers gripping onto whatever was left of the book covered shelves.

"Jaehyun, oh my God," you whimpered softly. Jaehyun thrusted into you harder, the movement making the old wooden case creak, the sound echoing in the room.

"You're stuck with me, my love. How does that make you feel," he groaned softly. Jaehyun wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing you even closer.

"So good.."

Jaehyun moved his hand towards the middle of your legs, fingers rubbing your clit at a steady pace. He moved this other hand off your waist, placing it on top of yours that was clinging to the shelf. Clasping your hands together, his head drops in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking the skin gently. Your hips moved with him, whines and groans filling the space.

"Jaehyun..shit.."

A dark chuckle rang in your ear, instantly turning you on even more. That was the first time you've ever sworn in front of him. You always kept up good manners whenever you were around him that he never even knew you swore in the first place. He took his hand off yours, turning your chin to face him. Jaehyun kissed you, hard and sloppy which was so out of the norm for him. He never did anything sloppy, not even the way he went down on you was sloppy.

"I'm about to cum," you whimpered on his lips.

"Hold on for me. I want us to cum together." His voice was deliciously raspy and deep as he pounded into you. You loved moments like this. The moments where your both were so wrapped in each other you forgot the kind of situation you were in. The moment where no one and anything else mattered.

He kept thrusting, his low grunts sending a wave of emotions through your body. That's when you felt your thoughts shift in the most surprising way possible. You wanted all of him. You needed all of him. "Cum in me. I..I need it."

Jaehyun didn't question you or have any doubts. All he did was kiss behind your ear, his soft raspy moans wrapping around you. You felt the muscles in your stomach get tight, your whine and whimpers getting higher in pitch.

"That's it Y/N, keep going just like that." Jaehyun held your waist tight, gripping you tight as you bounced on him meeting his movements. You reach back, hand on the back of his neck as you pull him to your mouth kissing him hard. And that's when the both of you feel it, both becoming undone in the intense wave of your orgasms. Loud moans and heavy breathing filled the empty space, the echo bouncing off the walls.

Tired and worn out, both of you stood there. In the silence of each other's heavy breathing, choosing not to speak about the fact that he came inside you once again. You just wanted to feel like it was real for a second, because if you really were pregnant, it would just mean that illusion would be broken. And now the possibility of it happening now or later was too near, but that wasn't on your mind. All that was on your mind was Jaehyun, how he looked, how he walked, how he talked. The both of you stayed this way for a little while longer, taking in each other, pretending that everything was okay and perfect.

But what neither of you knew was that things were about to get more complicated than either of you could've imagined.

Sick.

You feel sick.

It's not like you've never felt sick before, but you had no reason to to feel sick. You haven't drank, since you're not allowed to, all of the food was fine, you didn't have a fever, you didn't have any other sickness. But somehow you felt nauseous, your stomach turning and breath getting heavy. You had already used yourself from the rest of the kitchen And was now in a bathroom, kneeling in front of a toilet.

"This cannot be happening," you mumbled to yourself, clutching your abdomen. You felt your throat turn hot as you began to heave into the toilet. You committed hard, your entire body shaking as you gripped the bowl. The smell was putrid making your frown as you pushed yourself back into your feet.

Without thinking, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You looked like you always did, but something felt different. All the events that have taken place within the recent weeks plague your mind making your frown deeper. You were disappointed in yourself. Disappointed in how easy you let yourself be taken by him. Disappointed in how much you liked it. You felt remorseful for your future self because you had a feeling something wasn't right.

You shake the thoughts from your head and wash your mouth out diligently before stepping out of the bathroom. You opened the door walking out quickly only to slam into another hard surface. Completely disoriented, you stumble back not understanding what you could've walked into.

“Apologies, my lady. I did not see you coming.”

The voice made you freeze, your eyes widened as you looked back at him. You were silent, not realizing how truly startled you looked to him. It was almost as if he knew what you were thinking, what was happening. What was going to happen. The longer you stared, the more shaken you became. You really could be pregnant with the child of the man you're in love with, but why didn't you feel happy about it?

“I'm sorry, is everything alright,” Jaehyun questioned, giving you a look of concern. He reached out to place a hand on your shoulder but you moved away before he could touch you.

“I'm fine. Thank you, your grace.”

Jaehyun watched you in confusion when you gave him a slight bow, walking past him in a hurry. But he's a resilient man. He won't let you get away that easily. Jaehyun follows you, catching up to you when you grab the handle to the kitchen door. Jaehyun's rough hands wrap around your wrist, making you both freeze.

“Talk to me,” he says, brows knitted.

“What are you doing? We are in a hallway,” you whispered in annoyance.

“I'm not going to allow you to avoid me again. Tell me what's going on.” His tone was hard and stern, but his eyes were soft. His grip loosened as he stood there watching your expression soften into worry.

“I can not tell you until I'm sure,” you said looking at your feet. You looked at him, a small frown on the corner of his mouth.

“Do you not trust me?”

You sigh, pulling your wrist from his hand. “It is not you I don't trust, it is myself. Please let me figure all this out. I will tell you.”

Jaehyun gave you an unsure look, his eyes narrowing at your words.

“I promise,” you said, placing your hands on your heart. Just then, you heard footsteps, and immediately withdrew your sentimental look, straightening up in front of the prince. You folded your hands in front of yourself, looking at him emotionless. Just as you bow and come up, Rose walks down the hall, looking directly at you.

She walks up to the both of you, standing in the distance you created. “Great. I've been looking for you,” she said looking at Jaehyun, barely paying you any mind. “I figured you'd be nearby.”

“Has something happened,” he asked, raising a brow. He shot you a small glance, needing to look at you for some comfort.

“Yes it is about our standing with the public..” she took his arm, dragging him away from you with haste, but it relieved you. You wanted to be alone at the moment, not around anyone who knew what was going on, or around any drama. You were stressed and it wasn't going to get better with their problems being shoved in your face.

But now you were alone, not one else to distract you or purge the impending doom that plagued your mind. And that made you ever more sick.

White.

Clear.

Clean.

Those were all things you did not want to see, all signs of the thing you feared the most. You had no time to sit and cry and grovel, you had to act accordingly.

Breathe. Breathe.

But you can't breathe. You feel like the walls are closing in. The pretty sunlight shining through your small window is completely contrasting the metaphorical dark cloud hanging over your head. Everyone that knows you thinks you're calm and collected and can handle anything with ease. But this might be the one time you lose your mind.

You didn't even realize that tears were streaming down your face till you moved to wipe them, completely unaware of how long you've been standing there. There was no way you could have a child, let alone with the prince. The reality of never seeing or speaking to him again was definite and there was nothing you could do about it. But you had to suck it up and tell him anyway.

Wiping your face clear of tears, you leave your room, dusting the nonexistent dust from your dress. These next couple of days would likely be the last time you would ever wear it. You never really liked the outfit but grew used to it after a while.

Soon, you made it to the main hallway, walking through like normal. Walking up the stairs to the second floor, you feel yourself becoming nauseous the closer you get to Jaehyun's office. You can't tell if you're experiencing pregnancy symptoms or if you just aren't ready to tell him.

But you couldn't wait now. You were already in front of his office door by the time the thoughts in your brain were done racing. Your hand trembled as you raised it, hesitating to knock on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You heard shuffling behind the door, gulping at what was to come later. The door flung open, only for you to be faced with a very irritated Rose, Jaehyun sitting on the couch in the background. Your breath hitched, eyes going back and forth between the two of them. What were they doing? What were they talking about? Why should it matter, she was his wife and you weren't.

“You have impeccable timing, don't you,” Rose spoke, breaking the silence between the two of you. You glanced at Jaehyun who was looking at you past Rose. Your heart pumped watching a smile spread on his lips. It hurts.

Rose moved further into the room, her extravagant dress taking up so much space. You walked in, shutting the door behind you. Every nerve in your body prickled with suspense, every second rose spent glaring at you made you want to run away and hide. You weren't scared of her, but you were scared of her reaction.

“Why are you here,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest.

You needed to answer honestly. “I came to see Jaehyun.”

“His grace,'' Rose corrected, a scowl on her face. “in my presence, you will address him properly.”

“Rose, it's okay,” Jaehyun said, rising to his feet.

“No it's not. I don't care for whatever you two have. Around me, keep it at bay,” she argued, rolling her eyes.

You glanced at Jaehyun who was staring at your lips. It was obvious he wanted to kiss you, and you wanted to kiss him too. Jaehyun finally felt like the two of you were beginning to patch whatever issue you had, but he hadn't been alone with you since the day in the hall. As understanding of the situation that he is, he wishes you could just talk to him and not run and hide.

“I-I need to speak to him. Privately.”

Rose glared at you and then at Jaehyun, eyes shifting around the room. Your hands were sweating and trembling. This is not how you wanted this to go. You just wanted to tell Jaehyun and he tell Rose. Goodness, you felt like you were going to vomit again, the nerves now making you feel nauseous and weak.

“I'm not going to leave,”Rose declared.

Jaehyun groaned, pushing his hair back annoyed. “Rose, give us a moment-”

“No I will not. My husband and the woman he's sleeping with are constantly sneaking around and I won't stand for it anymore,” she said, voice becoming louder.

“I understand you dont like this but please, just respect what I have with her,” he said, getting loud with her.

“Don't you dare raise your voice at me,” she said. Rose then directed her attention to you, turning to you with an angry expression. “I'm done with you and him hiding things from me. Whatever you need to tell him, I'm sure you can say it in front of me.”

“Why do you insist on making things difficult,” Jaehyun said through gritted teeth. “You have told me many times you don't want to hear or see us together and now you're demanding we include you in private conversations.”

“Jaehyun, I don't need-”

“You keep quiet.” Rose took a step towards you, making Jaehyun's ears red from anger. “I don't want to hear a word from you. All you've done was mess up this damn marriage from the start-”

“You say that as if you wanted it,” Jaehyun interrupted.

The two went on for a while, leaving you standing at the door completely overwhelmed by all the screaming. Rose was upset. Jaehyun was angry. It was a screaming match all because of your presence. You shouldn't have come. You should've just went back to your room when you saw her open the door. But this had to come to an end.

Breathe. Breathe.

“I'm pregnant.”

Your soft voice stopped the arguing, both Jaehyun and Rose looking at you as if they heard you wrong.

“What,” he asked, gulping.

“I'm.. pregnant,” you repeat.

Rose said nothing, just walked to Jaehyun and slapped him. The sound echoed through the silent room. Time came to a standstill, the sound of heavy breathing echoing through the room. Adrenaline rushed through your veins, the desire to protect him not going past anything but a desire. His cheek was red as he stood there silently staring at the ground, taking in everything that just took place.

“I'm sorry,” he said after a few beats of silence.

She ignored him, turning to you. Rose took two steps in front of you and you closed your eyes. You knew she was going to hit you so all you could do was brace for impact. But too many seconds passed and you felt nothing, so you opened your eyes only to face a tearful woman.

“I want you out by the end of the week,” she said, voice shaking.

“She's not going anywhere.”

Both you and Rose turn to Jaehyun, your heart pumping so loud you're afraid it would come out of your chest.

“She cannot stay here. This is not up for debate,” Rose said calmly.

“She will stay. I forbid her from leaving.” Jaehyun was willing to start a war for you. He would do everything in his power to keep you from leaving the castle, pregnant or not.

Rose turned to him slowly, face twisting in anger and irritation. “You have made a mockery out of me too many times. I gave up everything to be here and the one thing I asked you not to do, you did anyway.”

“My grace, w-we didn't know this would happen,” you said almost in a whisper.

Rose turned to you, giving you a chuckle in disbelief. “Didn't know? How could you not know? You both are running around here fucking like rabbits when you think no one is watching, but you didn't know?”

That was the one truth you didn't want to bear. All those times you and Jaehyun snuck off in each other's company ended up with you sleeping with him. You knew it was a bad idea, every single time, but it felt so right. All those times he would look at you as if you were the only thing in the world with protecting, you were going to miss him.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered.

Rose scoffed, staring at you in disbelief. “Don't pretend that you care. Don't pretend that you didn't want this.”

“I didn't want this. I am not ready to be a mother.”

Jaehyun looked at you, his stoic expression beginning to crack the more you spoke. He wanted to take your hand and run. Just run far away from this castle, this life, everything. “You will stay until you birth our child,” he said.

“No she will not.” Rose raised her voice, “I'm sick of watching you two prance around here, living out your fairy tale love when I couldn't have mine.”

“And why should that be my fault,” Jaehyun snapped. “I'm sorry you couldn't stay with whoever you wanted back home. I'm sorry you were forced into this marriage. But..” Jaehyun looked at you and back at Rose, sorrow filling his heart realizing the difficult position he put you in. “I love her, and I refuse to let her go.”

“You are the most selfish man I've ever met,” she said, giving him a dry laugh. “We both know our fate but you refuse to change. I have tried everything to make this work despite not wanting to be here and you've run circles around this palace to avoid them.”

“I have sacrificed so much-”

“Sacrifice,” Rose interrupted, scoffing. “Do you know anything about sacrifice? I was forced to leave my home to prevent a war my parents started. The only man that has ever loved me is somewhere dead or alive and I do not know. I had to marry you against my will and have to have a child with you to maintain my status. This is the life I've always known, and you dare speak of sacrifices. I sacrifice my freedom, body, and sanity everyday. And you sacrifice what? Your feelings?”

Jaehyun stood there silent. There was nothing he could say because she was right. “I'm sorry for any chaos I've caused, but all I ask-”

“I'll go.” That was the first thing you've said in a while, making both of their heads turn. “I-ill go. I knew this would be my fate if it happened, so I'll leave.”

Jaehyun's heart dropped. It felt like his whole world was crashing and he could do nothing about it. “Y/N, please you don't have to-”

“Jaehyun, I will go. I have to go eventually. You know that,” you said almost in a whisper, voice cracking under the pressure that weighed on your chest. Tears pooled in the corner of your eyes, but you didn't let them see as you faced the floor.

“Be out by the end of the week.”

You looked up, brows furrowed in sadness at Rose’s nonchalant disposition. “I have no family. I need more than a week.”

“Then leave the country! Go on a voyage and explore other lands! Just be out of my castle!”

Rose left the room with a loud slam of the door. Jaehyun didn't even give a second after she left to pull you into his arms, hugging you tight as if you would leave him immediately. And in his arms is where you broke down, allowing yourself to cry. You cried for him, you cried for yourself, you cried for your soon to be child, you even cried for Rose. Your life was in disarray, and there was nothing you could do it about. Nothing Jaehyun could do about it.

“It's okay,” he said in a quiet soothing voice. Jaehyun stroked the back of your head softly, holding you tight.

You and him stood there for a while, holding each other in silence. It was strange, the way he just gave up and didn't fight for much longer, but there are some things you can't fight even if you try. After some time, you both calmed down. You wanted a distraction, needed a distraction.

“Jaehyun,” you breathed out.

He loosened his hold on you, letting you look up at him. Starry eyes, flushed face, pretty lips. You were his only dream in this world of nightmares. “I'm sorry Y/N. I'm sorry for all of this.”

“Never mind all of that,” you whispered, forcing a smile. You hoped he could see your sadness or feel the ping in your heart.

“If I had just… This is all my fault,” he repeated. Jaehyun swallowed hard, feeling your hand come in contact with his face, caressing his cheek softly. “I don't want you to leave.”

“You act as if I'm leaving immediately,” you laugh, trying to lighten the somber mood. “I'm still here, and we can make the most of it.”

“How?”

You didn't say a word. All you did was kiss him softly, and the rest of the day was history.

You decided to do what Rose suggested and leave the country. You didn't know what would await you out of the land and across the sea but you were ready for it. The one thing you weren't ready for was leaving Jaehyun. And he wasn't either. It was apparent by how he was basically clinging to you every second he could get, never letting you out of his sight.

Despite him being so close, you hadn't yet told him of your plan and today was the day you'd be leaving. It was early morning and you already had your things packed. You told him to come to your room at noon, and just like expected, he knocked on your door right on time.

You stood up from your bed, exhaling the breath you didn't know you were holding in before opening the door. And there he was, as regal as always. Jaehyun stood there, eyes unable to leave your body realizing you were wearing regular clothes. He's never seen you in anything but your maid outfit, and this just makes him fall for you more.

“Hello, my love,” he said, giving you a sad smile. “Today is the day I suppose.” Jaehyun walks in, eyes immediately going to your cases that are packed with your belongings. His heart hurts seeing the signs of your soon to be disappearance.

“Yes, and that is why I need you to sit and listen to me.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, raising a brow as he sat in your bed, waiting for you to speak. “what is it?”

“I am going away,” you said.

“Yes. I know this.”

You sighed, hands playing with the buttons on your dress. “On a ship Jaehyun.”

His face twisted into an emotion you couldn't place. Hurt. Nausea. Disbelief. Maybe it was none of those, maybe it was all, but you didn't know how to combat it. You didn't know what to say or think or do. All that you knew was that he didn't like what just came out of your mouth.

“Jaehyun,” you called out, trying to break the silence that stood between you. “Please say something.”

But he didn't. He sat there in silence wondering where everything went wrong, what he could've done differently, how he would have fought for you harder. He sat wondering if he would ever see you again, or if you would ever want to see him again. Jaehyun didn't have it in him to shed a tear, feeling himself slowly go numb right before you.

“Jaehyun,” you call again, voice shaking in fear. “I know this is sudden and last minute, but I'm making this decision for me…”

“I'm not mad,” he said quietly. “Just a bit shocked.”

“I'm… I'm sorry.” You sit a distance away from him on your bed, eyes staring at your hands.

“So this means I'll never see you again,” he mumbled, a permanent frown on his face.

You turn to him, brows for rowing in sadness. “You'll see me again.”

“When Y/N,” he sighed in frustration. “In another 10, 50 years? I can't wait that long. My heart won't allow it.”

“Well neither can mine,” you argue back, body now fully turned to him. “My heart can't allow myself to see you married and having children with another woman. I can't let myself see someone else live out the dream I so desperately wanted. I have to get away.”

“But… Why now? Why leave me now?” Jaehyun scooted closer to you, taking your hands in his.

“This isn't about you. This is about me.”

“What about us?”

“Jaehyun can't you see? there is no us,” you say. The look of shock and hurt slashed across his face, almost making you regret your words. “there could never be an “us.” That's why I must leave.”

“I'll go with you,” he says.

You let out a small laugh, the absurd statement amusing you at the difficult time. “Jaehyun, you cannot come with me.”

“Then what must I do to make sure that there is still an “us?” Should I renounce my role as the prince of this kingdom? Should I beg for you to stay?”

“No, no Jaehyun- stop this at once. Stand up!”

Jaehyun was now kneeling in front of you, eyes staring wildly into your eyes. He had so much emotion he barely knew what he was doing at this point. All his self respect ran from his body as soon as he walked into the room, he didn't care for titles or status, just you and him.

“If this won't work, then what will?”

You open your mouth, but then close it as you look at him. He didn't like this look. It was full of pity. You pitied him, and that's something he never wanted from you. He always wanted to look strong for you, but now that you were going to be gone in a couple of hours, he was desperate.

“I'm not staying no matter what you try,” you said, watching his hopeful expression deflate. “I will not grow a child under a roof where the man I love is with someone else and that woman would rather see my head on a stick.”

Jaehyun stood back up with a sigh, eyes never leaving your relaxed figure. If these were his last moments with you, he needed to make this count. Time was running out and he needed to make sure you left with only him on your mind. He needed to remember how your hands felt on his skin, how your lips felt on his. He wanted to be etched into every crevice of your mind 5 years from now.

“We don't have much time left and I don't want to argue with you,” he stated. “you want to leave, very well. But promise me we will see each other again.”

A surprise gasp escaped your lips. “Jaehyun, now you know-”

“Please, just promise me,” he said.

“I promise,” you said softly. “We will meet again. I promise. A year from now, maybe 50, we will see each other again.”

Jaehyun grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet. Before you could gauge the moment, his lips crashed onto yours, the taste to honey so familiar to you lingering on your tongue. “Never forget me,” he said against your lips. He held onto your clothes tight, pulling your body closer to his.

“One last time,” he said softly.

You swallowed hard, eyes fluttering open. “I don't have much time left.”

Jaehyun gave you a soft smile, his gaze remaining as gentle as ever. “Don't worry about that. Just worry about me and you, okay?”

For once you decided to let yourself relax and listen, nodding to his words. You no longer had anything to lose since losing everything already. So against your better judgment, you nodded, following his pace as he kissed you deeply over and over. Jaehyun wasted no time, magnetic pull on his hands to the buttons on your dress. Only difference was that they were in the front now.

His fingers worked on the tiny buttons, lips smirking against yours feeling your impatience. The amount of time it was taking him was agonizing to you, but secretly you were happy he was taking his time. While you wanted to rip the bandage off, you also wanted to savor him.

“I would give anything for you to miss that ship,” he said, unlatching the last button. Jaehyun pulled the sleeves of your dress off your arms, kissing down to your neck.

“Please,” you whisper, breath hitching as you feel your dress drop to the floor. “Don't make this harder than it has to be.”

Jaehyun gave you a soft chuckle, kissing back up your neck and jawline. “Sit down.”

You did as he said, his hooded eyes staring at you. Jaehyun unbuttoned his shirt, fingers moving so delicately. He pulled the fabric off his body swiftly, placing the shirt on your neatly made bed. Without saying a word, he gets on his knees, the action making you gulp.

“I'm going to miss you,” he said softly, hands rubbing your legs. You couldn't say anything, not when he was pressing kisses on your thigh, down to your knees.

“I'm going to miss every part of you..” Jaehyun spread your thighs, pushing your undergarments away. “You'll miss me too?”

You nod.

“Words, Y/N. Speak to me.” He took your leg, placing it on his strong shoulder. His hands took your sides, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed.

“Y-yes, I'll miss you.” Your body shivered at the feeling of his lips on your skin as he kissed your inner thigh, core aching for contact that he won't give.

He kisses your clit, eyes staring at you from below. He thinks he will remember this for the rest of his life, the way you look above him, the soft sighs that leave your lips when he touches you, the way your skin tastes.

“I'll miss you ” he whispers, placing another kiss. “The way you taste” – kiss – “the way you feel” – kiss – “the way you sound.”

Jaehyun held your body as his lips and tongue kept going at your clit, enjoying every single moan you let out. You let yourself shed the last bit of control you had and tangled your hands in his hair. You were going to miss his pretty brown curly hair. Your body shudders at the soft and slow movements, mind and body drifting into a state of relaxation and forgetting about having to be at the dock in some time.

Jaehyun watched you watch him, your glossy eyes staring into his as you allowed yourself one last moment of recklessness. Your soft moans were music to his ears. Jaehyun sucked your clit softly, needing more from you. The feeling made your legs try to come together, but with one on his shoulder, all he could do was chuckle at the unsuccessful attempt.

“J-Jaehyun,” you whined softly, the sound of his name on your lips ending a tingle up his spine.

“You like this” he says, voice slightly muffled.

He watched you nod frantically, tongue licking up your arousal. “How much Y/N? Tell me.”

“So so much.”

Jaehyun's hands gripped your sides harder and began to let his mouth work on you harder. He was rock hard in his pants, erection straining against the fabric. He wanted so badly to lay you on your back and take you, but you looked so angelic above him. He sucked on your clit again, bringing out whines of his name over and over.

“God, you sound so pretty,” he mumbled. “I want you to remember this every time you think of me.”

Jaehyun was always so good with words, knowing exactly what to say to make your heart flutter. “I want you to think of me every time you touch yourself..”

You couldn't even speak, the pleasure filling your body quickly as he began to eat you out with much more vigor. He barely touched you, but you were so close already.

“I will,” you said softly.

“God I love you so much..” Jaehyun flicked his tongue faster, making you breathe harder and faster. The leg that was on his shoulder trembled, heel pulling him closer to your body. “You're close aren't you?”

You nodded, brows furrowing as you closed your eyes, throwing your head back. “Keep going, just like that… I'm so close.” Your hips rocked against his face, his tongue now inside you as his nose bumped your clit with each movement.

In just a couple of seconds you came, legs shaking and moans flowing into his ears. Jaehyun groaned softly, his saliva and your arousal mixing with every lick. His eyes never left yours, your expression so perfect and sounds so addicting he couldn't stop even when you were gasping for air from the overstimulation.

“It's okay, love. I got you,” he said, watching you grip your bed hard. “One more time. Do it for me.”

Your body was on fire, all senses heightened because of the man in front of you. Jaehyun didn't let up even when you couldn't speak and you loved it. The only things leaving your mouth were moans and incoherent babbles. One hand tangled in his hair, gripping it harder as you pulled him closer.

“I'm cumming,” you said in a soft gasp.

The noises that filled the room were sinful, making you cringe but turning you on even more. His eyes never left yours as you came, hands still molding your body like clay. You let go of his hair, breathing heavily as you attempted to recover from all the pleasure you received. Jaehyun put your leg down gently, lifting himself from your body. Your face went hot seeing the mess you made, arousal on his lips, chin nose.

He took the back of his hand, wiping his face before rising to his feet. “Lay back.”

You did as he said, watching him as he stood in front of your bed, undressing before you. He wasted no time climbing on top of you, body so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body. He was so pretty, no painting could ever truly capture it. Everything from his hair to his legs was a sight for sore eyes and you loved every part of him.

Jaehyun leaned down and kissed you, his strong arms trapping you underneath his body. He kissed you face softly, from the corner of your mouth to your forehead making you giggle softly.

“What's so amusing,” he said, looking down at you.

You shook your head, moving your hand to his face cupping his cheek softly. “You're cute.”

He stares at you for a second, but smiles, kissing you once again. “When you're on that ship I want you to remember how cute I am.”

Jaehyun lifted his body off yours, hands sliding down your waist to your hips to your legs, lifting them to your chest. You watched his hand move from your leg to his cock, shifting himself deeper between your legs. Jaehyun rubbed his tip on your slit, teasing you.

“God, you're wet,” he mumbled. You moaned softly, feeling him rub himself on your clit, your hands gripping your legs harder as you held them close to your chest. “I'm gonna miss this..” Jaehyun slides into you almost too easily, your cunt sucking him in effortlessly. The both of you let out a sigh of relief when your bodies connected. He rocked his hips into your slowly, the squelching sounds filling the room. Your bed cracked with every movement, the sound of your soft moans blending in with one another.

“You're mine,” he said, voice bringing you out of the trance you were in. “Only mine.”

“Only yours,” you nod.

Jaehyun removes your hands from your legs, pulling them apart. “There goes that pretty face.” He leans down, kissing you instantly. He was going to miss your kisses the most, the way you moaned into his mouth when he felt too good, the way your lips molded with his in the most perfect way possible. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers running through the back of his hair.

“I love you so much,” you whispered into his mouth. Jaehyun thrusted into you faster, now going at a steady pace. He pulls away from you, kissing down your neck messily. You needed more situations so you reached down between your bodies to touch yourself, but Jaehyun took your hands and held them above your head.

“Cum from my cock, okay? Can you do that for me,” he groaned softly.

You nod with a whine, head sinking into your pillow as he started fucking you harder. “F-fuck, oh my God, you feel so good.”

He thrusted into you like his life depended on it, which it did. You were what breathed for, lived for, and would die for even. Even with you underneath him you already felt so far away, and he hated that.

Your body shook under him, legs involuntary spreading even wider as he thrust deeper into you. Your body was on fire, never feeling so vulnerable in his touch and loving it all the same.

“Remember what it feels like to be around my cock,” he said against your ear, smiling at your whimpers. “Remember that no man could make you feel as good as this..”

You nod fast, brows furrowing as Jaehyun's grip on your wrist tightens . “I'm close,” you gasp, feeling his other hand rubbing your neglected clit. Jaehyun moves his lips above yours, but doesn't kiss you. His body is too wrapped in pleasure to do anything but thrust until he cums inside you. The sounds of both of your pants filling your ears, completely overstimulated you, making you squeeze around your lover.

“Fuck, oh my god,” he moaned softly, lips brushing against yours. “Y/N, I-Im close, shit.”

Jaehyun lets go of your wrists, finally freeing your hands from above your head. You immediately grab the back of his head, pulling him down to kiss him hungrily. Moaning against his lips, you feel your legs begin to tire and hurt, but the hurt blends with the pleasure well. Your moans got louder with every time he hit your sensitive spot, walls fluttering around him. You came hard, with a loud cry chanting his name over and over.

Jaehyun held you close to him, still thrusting in you groaning into your neck. “Almost there, I'm almost there Y/N.”

After a few thrust, Jaehyun lets go into you, painting your insides white. Everything was intense even after the fact. Emotions still running high, hearts beating fast, minds racing for the both of you. Jaehyun rested his face on your neck, laying still as he tried to regain energy listening to your heart beat. That's when he heard a sniffle from you and then another.

“Are you crying,” he asked quietly, still not raising his head to look at you.

“Yes.” Your voice was quiet and calm, the tears falling down your cheeks landing on Jaehyun's ears, making him sigh. He lifted himself off you, laying next to you on your tiny bed. In that moment you missed his warmth even though he was still right next to you.

You stared at the ceiling trying to ignore Jaehyun's eyes burning into your side. You both lay in silence for a while, lost in thought.

“Do you think you can wait till tomorrow,” he says, breaking the silence.

“There will be no more ships till next week,” you answer. “if Rose knows I'm here–”

“Please don't talk about her.” His voice was almost as quiet as a whisper, making you turn to look at him for the first time in a while. “I wish it was here instead.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wish she had to leave,” he mumbled. He swung his arm around your body, pulling you closer to him. “I wish I could have you here forever. Me, you and…”

He paused his gaze slowly lowering to your stomach.”

You follow his gaze, a tired smile tugging at your lips. “Hyacinth.”

“Hyacinth,” he repeats. “That's your favorite flower.”

“Mhm,” you nod. “If it is a girl, that's what I will name her.”

Jaehyun chuckles softly, lips pressing your shoulder softly. “And if it's a boy?”

“Your name,” you say. Jaehyun stops breathing for a second, the thumb that's rubbing circles in your side stops.

“Really,” he asks, eyes becoming softer.

You nod. The way he looks at you makes you feel like you're the only person in the world and still in your last moments with him, it makes you sad. In a moment's time, you will both have to get up, get dressed, and leave the room, never to be there or in the castle ever again. All you want to do is be delusional and happy, but your mind won't let you.

“I wasn't completely honest earlier,” you say, sighing deeply. “I never told you that sometimes I dreamed of leaving here and traveling the world.”

“It's okay. Now you have a chance to.”

“I've always wanted to do it with you,” you admit. “That's another reason I chose to leave. It was for my sanity. And if I couldn't do it with you, at least I could do it with a part of you.”

Jaehyun kisses you softly, rough hand squeezing your side so tight, you thought he would never let you go. But now it's time for him to let you go and he will grieve this loss for much more time than he hoped. He let you go, his arm moving painfully slow trying to make these last seconds of intimacy count for something. You both sat up, knowing the time has come for you to regain your strength and fulfill your last duty to the castle, which is to leave.

“I love you Y/N. Promise you love me too.”

“I promise.”

#nct #nct fanfic #nct u #nct smut #nct x reader #nct oneshot #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun oneshot #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios

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tenderlyrenjun · 2 years

Text

Married

re:preview no. 1 and no. 2

minors + bots do not interact; fic rec blogs without comments do not reblog

A/N: from a joke idea to a poor fic preview to a final fic ... here it is! and it took me a little less than 2 weeks to write this, so please take it with a grain of salt. also, ik that i said i hate childhood friends to lovers (for psych reasons), but jeno is just so friend shaped.

summary: you take jeno to be your lawful wedding date, in busan.

includes ... girl/afab reader, porn with feelings, mutual pining, strong!jeno, they’re both government officials with the city planning department, jaehyun (127) marries mingyu (svt) btw ... smut warnings ... sex dreams, lingerie, oral sex (f + m receiving), masturbation (f + m), fingering, spanking, 69ing/ish, big dick!jeno, choking/breath play, edging (kind of but not really), praise during sex but not like a kink, unprotected sex, and so, so much consent ♡

wc: 25,9k (again, i am so sorry)

again, minors + bots do not interact

“Hey … hey, wake up. The conductor hasn’t come by to punch our tickets yet, and you’re sitting on them.”

You gently pat Jeno’s face where the 5:30 sunrise glows, barely seeping down the half-shielded window; he immediately closed it, about five minutes ago, once the night ended, more irritated by the sun waking him up than moving beds from his apartment to train, but he still kept a small part cracked, as if wanting to relive the road trips home during Seollal, when you two, excided by leaving college at the earliest moment, would book the cheapest rides and get picked up before rush hour. Your long sleeves scratch along his freshly shaven jaw, like scrubbing pillowy softness into his cheeks, and he tries to ignore it – tries to ignore you, except you become extra annoying, squeezing his face harder until he has to slap your hands away to avoid sleeping on the empty hard seat beside him, the last one in this connected row, where his blazer, a less comfy pillow than your narrow shoulder, takes residence. Jeno slides his palm across yours, enveloping your wrists like handcuffs, fixing them on your thighs. You have to take a moment, tongue weighing heavy and dry. He never really lets you forget how strong he is, oblivious to it all.

Even last night, when you helped him last-minute stress pack (a.k.a. the real reason you stayed at the 00-Line apartment), you hopped on his overflowing luggage, complaining that one clap from him would snap it shut (or completely break it, but you felt optimistic!). Granted, your shoes sat on top of all his clothes, preventing it from zipping up without something weighing it down – which is why his blazer sits on the bench, not in his bag, or yours. You told him that he could put it in one of your bags, but you both knew there was no room, what with all your different wedding outfits. He deadpanned at you, hearing that revelation – the multiple wardrobe changes –, throwing his facial cleanser at your loose makeup bag (the one you ended up shoving in his backpack too).

But not everyone can just wear one suit like him! You have the pre-wedding outfit, before you change into your attendance dress at city hall while you help Jaehyun set up; then, there’s the dinner dress, which you plan on also using at the rehearsal dinner, and a dress for the real reception, and of course you need a backup in case something happens to one of those, in addition to the matching shoes, because shoes (and accessories) elevate the appearance, as you reasoned, which made him visibly nervous for some reason, as if you would leave him looking like an outsider with your family, the same family he has known since middle school. You reassured him that he will always match with you, and if not, Busan has a thousand stores to buy a tie … which would have the potential to also not fit in his bag, like the blazer, but you two – he – can make it work! He makes everything work, like a superpower.

Jeno end up wearing the blazer over his hoodie, to the station, giving him a needed second layer against the dark 16-degree weather. He looked more put together with it on, than he probably actually felt, especially considering that he only had 10 minutes to get ready before Mark drove you to the KTX station. Although, the façade breaks now that it’s just the two of you in the booth – no strangers, no coverups, no friends, no expectations; so when he picks his head up and his hoodie falls, navy fluffy hair sticking out at random angles, you stop staring at your hands below his and catch his bangs, tucking them back gently into place. You want to move him into your lap (it might be more comfortable), but not yet; the conductor still has to punch your tickets, and you don’t want to repeat Chuseok 2020 when the conductor scolded you for laying across the bench. Plus, you never really get the chance to do this with him, be this close to him, not that you don’t want to, or that it’s too hard.

You just … never get the chance.

“How are you this awake,” he groans, raising his analog watch into squinted view, nearly crying laughter as his eyes close again, cheek pressing into your shoulder, “at 5:37 AM?”

You roll your head dramatically, provoking more grumbles out of him that make you giggle as he jostles. “Some of us actually go to sleep earlier when we know that we have a schedule at dawn.” You graze your recently manicured nails into his scalp, mumbling through a smile, “You knew we were going to leave for Jaehyun’s wedding a few days in advance; you were there when I booked our tickets; he invited us to lunch because of you.” Jeno makes an objecting noise. “Ah, maybe I should’ve invited Haechan instead.”

“Hey.” Jeno smacks your thigh, his long fingers curling behind your knee to pull you closer. You gulp, praying that he cannot hear the knot in your throat. Apparently, his displays of strength are inversely related to his energy levels; the less energy he has, the more he uses his strength with you. But thankfully, he remains oblivious, poking your stomach with his furthest hand. He slinks up your shoulder, massaging down your tension to get selfishly comfortable, warm breath exhaling into your neck. “You fell asleep maybe 20 minutes before I did,” he objects, arguing the root of the problem, as if knowing that he will always be your first choice, “and that was, like, four hours ago.”

“Ha,” you laugh sarcastically, masking the new sweat on your palms under your sweater paws. You rub your hands together for a second, bouncing the heels together, before pushing him up, with all your strength, holding him there long enough – despite a series of complaints – to take the tickets from under his ass. “I wasn’t the one who said, ‘No,’ to coffee when Jaemin offered.”

“He went to sleep when I woke up!”

“Eh,” you wave off and lay him on your shoulder again, “Excuses.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he whines, pouting, cuddling you so tightly that your revolve falters, “I’m doing you a favor, and you’re being mean to me.”

You comb his hair again, soothing all the wrinkles in his forehead, not denying it. He is partially correct. You do take advantage of his kindness – merely because he offers it so nicely, on a silver platter; it is a reason why you lo… why you … why you return it so easily, albeit quietly, like now. He will attend your cousin’s wedding this weekend; he lets you overpack his luggage; he opens his apartment to you with wide arms. And in return, you paid for the KTX tickets and hotel; you reserved a slot at a shooting range in Jeonju where your layover stops; you let him fall asleep on your shoulder right now, even though you are tired as hell, too.

Besides, your cousin, Jaehyun, probably would have invited Jeno to the reception anyways. He invited everyone, on a limited occupancy, from Eunwoo to Jihyo. And Jeno , who once wished Jaehyun to be his older brother, is pretty close with your family. There is no way he would not end up in the family photos.

“Ugh.” Jeno sits up, rubbing his eyes single handedly with the arm detached from you. “Why did we agree to lunch? We could be sleeping right now.”

You laugh at him, tugging him back down easily, and ghost your fingers in his hair. “Mingyu has to finish up some work project before they can go on their honeymoon, so Jaehyun suggested lunch to give his fiancée some uninterrupted time.”

“Boo, they’re just going to fuck,” Jeno yawns, starting to fall asleep again. “You stay over at my apartment all the time, it’s like you practically moved into my room, and there’s no way you get any work done.”

“Ha … ha .. a .. yeah …” Totally not distracted by him, or how much freer he is in his bedroom, always wearing basketball shorts without underwear as it seems, always manspreading enough for you to see. It is definitely not the same thing. You lift your head to look over the seats. “Where is that conductor? We need to get moving.”

Jeno slides you back down. “But really, you got this?”

“Ye-yeah.”

“Alright.” He nuzzles into your neck, almost kissing your skin when he tilts his chin up. Your entire body freezes for a second, anticipating, hoping, that he kisses you, any part of you. But he doesn’t. And you press your lips together, eyes closing too, just briefly, as not to fall asleep. “I’m going to take a quick nap. Wake me when we get there?”

“Yeah, okay.”

As he settles into sleep, Jeno’s head slowly nods forward, and you cup outside his cheek, catching him before he falls, lingering your nails behind his jaw for a moment, for this moment, until you spot the conductor. Amazing timing. You sigh. Jeno’s fingers twitch closed, briefly, like a reassuring hug that you misinterpret – willingly misinterpret – as something more, like this is okay, it is okay to have feelings during arbitrary moments. You inch apart from Jeno again, shifting on your hip, into the aisle, and pick up the tickets again, holding them so tightly that little veins fold onto the papers.

The conductor comes by, moving ever so slowly, like he wants to help you preserve this moment, with your best friend unconscious on your shoulder, and as though he could read your heart, he says, “You’re a cute couple."

"Ha ... thanks," you smile politely, biting your lip, grounding yourself with a look a Jeno. He spasms in his sleep, hand squeezing your thigh again. “Oh, right.” You hand the tickets over, reality resuming. You try to cease your shaking hands between your thighs, shoulders raised as awkwardly as the smile on your face, but Jeno’s hand, his strong hand, splits your legs, so you give up.

“We still have some chocolates left from White Day,” the conductor informs softly. The entire world seems to calm down, or stay asleep, for Jeno’s sake, and you don’t blame them, lowering your own tension too. “I can bring some for you and your boyfriend if you like.”

You swallow thickly, licking the corner of your mouth, considering it selfishly because why would anyone reject free candy?, but you shake your head. “No, I’ll – I’ll, ah … wait for my b-boyfriend to wake up first. H-he really likes chocolate.” Oh, my God; be cool, you scold yourself, but the nerves make you feel bad, like you are too close to Jeno or you make him uncomfortable with other people’s assumptions.

“Alright,” the conductor nods, smiling at the two you, practically repeating cute couple, “Let me know. I’ll save some for you.”

After he punches your tickets and hands them back – an archaic practice, and vain, since you checked in electronically around 5 AM – you grab Jeno’s hand.

And, in his sleep, he weaves your fingers together.

Attention, passengers: we are approaching Jeonju Station in five minutes. Please collect your items; we will be stopping shortly.

Jeno yawns awake, lulling his neck tall along the line on the backrest, kneading the kink in his spinal cord that keeps forming after he sleeps on your shoulder (he should really move onto your chest). Speaking of you, Jeno reaches at his sides, left and right, fingers dancing into the empty seats, not even finding his blazer. He peaks an eye open, wincing as the full morning light assaults his vision, then he actively looks for you, and finds you easily, already standing, pulling down your bags from the overhead hanger. A wheel jams on the railing, making you lean on your toes, shakily, to get it down, but you look unstable, so he immediately gets up, the second he sees your ankles wobble, and steadies you by your lower back, using one strong hand to bring down the luggage by its handle, his palm lingering too long.

The timing hasn’t been that great lately, these last few days – months, if he’s being honest. Like, yeah, you practically spend every waking moment together, a side effect of knowing each other since middle school and now working together on a project for urban revitalization in the lower Seoul district, but there are little things that still separate you from him. Not enough to make him feel as if you are drifting apart as best friends, as childhood friends; only enough for him to notice that he relies on you to be his personal comfort, his home away from home. And maybe, he thinks, this trip can recenter your relationship.

So, he starts by closing the distance.

Except, as strong as he might be, Jeno knows he is unaware of how much he uses at any given moment, and you tense in front of his hand, instinctively jolting up and hitting him square under the chin with the back of your head.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!” you scream, equally cringing and grabbing your hair, before finishing lamely, not knowing how to help, “sorry. You scared me.” You step into his personal bubble, practically into his chest, and grab his chin before he can cover up the temporary pain, holding him almost as long as he touched your back, except he didn’t have a valid excuse to you that long. He holds his breath, as if a doctor started the inhale-exhale stethoscope check, but you stop talking.

“You could’ve woken me up,” he tells you, moving your hand with his jaw, staring at your lips, willing you to talk or break the beat. “I know the bags are heavy,” he says, which translates to I would’ve helped you.

“Yeah, but you looked so cu … so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you until I absolutely had to.”

Jeno nods, fair; he’s done the same in the past when you were in college, especially after exam season, after you pull multiple all-nighters in a row but still make plans with your friends. Like, there was this one time, you stayed over at his apartment, a different one than he lives in now, one closer to Uni, for Haechan’s birthday party later, and you fell asleep on his bed while he played League with Jaemin and Jisung. He ended up waking you up about ten minutes after the party started, to give you a bit more than an hour of sleep. Needless to say, neither of you were the first to wish Haechan happy birthday, for which he only accepted monetary penance, but Jeno thought it was worth it, no amount of money enough, to see your smile refreshed and echoed in your posture.

“Hey, is that my blazer?”

You glance at the lapels, slightly raising your arm as well, as if you forgot that you were wearing it. “Yeah, sorry, I – I got cold.” You slowly take it off, shaking the sleeves off your shoulders. “Do you – Do you want– ?” Do you want it back?

“No,” Jeno interrupts, fixing his jacket by the lapels over your shoulders again. “It’s alright. Wouldn’t want you to get hypothermia”

Once it situates correctly on your body, Jeno trails his hand up your arm, rubbing your bicep, sensing that the cold probably got to you, given that the loud air conditioner in the back contradicts the clear sunny sky. Then, the train stops, violently, and you both reach your arms out to steady one another, ultimately falling against the chairs, his waist pressed tightly against yours. You inhale sharply, first, and he copies you, hands brace above and below each other’s elbows. Neither of you really stand this close to each other, having too much respect for your friendship. He can name less than a handful of moments: 7 Minutes in Heaven at the beginning of 9th grade; an awkward dance at your first high school dance in 10th grade; truth or dare during sophomore year of college; accidentally pressing against you in the copy room at work after the shelves in the supply closet broke and the handyman shoved a thousand boxes next to the printer. Jeno doesn’t know what is different now; this, too, is probably another rare occurrence. He has loved you forever, never making a move, but …

“Th-thanks,” you whisper, quickly pulling away your hands.

There it is.

“No, um, no problem.”

Wordlessly, you go through the unloading motions: you stacking his backpack on the roller luggage, him taking the duffel bag that you claimed was heavy. Jeno closes the distance again, putting his hand behind the small of your back, walking you preemptively down the aisle. You slump against his palm, resting your cheek occasionally on his bicep as more people file out in the front, and he lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, because the fatigue is probably hitting you now that you have to force your body to move.

Once you get to the front of the train, an exit almost like a plane since you sat in the middle of the cart (not the most coveted place, since you can’t recline or get out quickly, but the easiest to snake), the conductor greets him:

“Hey, you’re awake!”

Jeno points at himself, lines forming between his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” the conductor confirms, handing over a small bag of chocolate hearts. “I saved these for you.”

“Thanks?” He tilts his head to the side as he unwinds himself from you, accidentally bumping his elbow on your head, and accepts the candies with two hands – a clear bag of shiny pink and yellow Hershey’s mini-chocolate bars. “Why us– ?”

“Okay, thanks, have a good day!” you shout, pushing him into the station, barely stopping to bow before exiting the train.

Jeno manages to catch the conductor’s last words, something about good-bye and being cute. “Do you know what that’s about?”

“Nope,” you lie badly, and he gives you a skeptical look, which you ignore. “But fr-free chocolate.”

So he lets you ignore it, eating one. It tastes good, but he swears he hears you exhale in relief.

The layover in Jeonju lasts two hours, until a little after 10:30 AM, but it feels like two minutes.

You spent the entire time latched onto Jeno, supporting your caffeinated body through all the laughter and smiles – yours and his, as you surprised him with activity after activity, a thank you for coming, for willingly enduring gossipy aunties practically cross-examining him on the reception floor and drunk uncles at the karaoke machine who would otherwise be tone-deaf without the drinks in their hands. After the first activity – a short 30-minute session at a shooting range – Jeno picked you up with his knees, spinning you around outside the building, repeatedly crushing your torso between his beefy arms. And when he thought that was it, you Uber’ed to the Jeonjuchun River and rented a couple bikes next to one of the pretty pavilions (big mistake; you had to go back to the start and wait for him there because you couldn’t keep up without your ass catching on fire!). His dumb, wide smile made you want to keep going, plus you had a last planned surprise to grab coffee and pastries at the Mural Village, having called ahead two days prior to reserve a couple of their signature glazed donuts, his favorite.

So, it makes sense that when you get on the last train to Busan, exhaustion hits your entire body full force.

As Jeno packs the bags on the overhead hanger, you sit sideways on the chair, watching him, noting how his hoodie slightly rises, right under his belly button, confined neatly by the prominent outlines in his abs. To really sell whole ‘not-checking-out-your-best-friend’ bit, lean into the spine of the booth, lazily leaning your head against the leather cushion, half-closing your eyes, lazily leaning on your own shoulder, arms folded comfortably across your stomach. You don’t know where the lie and truth meet, but you still wear his blazer, and the earthy cologne keeps you awake, as a (poor) substitute for his proximity, until he kneels down next to you.

“Tired?”

You can hear the smile in his cheery voice.

“Mmhm.”

If he were Jaemin, you might’ve cancelled every surprise (or just not planned them) and accepted his offer to take a nap in the station while the next train arrives. If he were Renjun, you might’ve left later in the day, or the previous day, or maybe not even planned lunch with your cousin, since the two don’t really know each other that well. If he were Haechan, you might’ve gotten teased after the second you stared wobbling on your toes, needing his support to get you on the train, or he would have driven all the way to Busan in that newly painted car, taking turns at rest stops. But no, this is Lee Jeno, your best friend since middle school. You used to joke that you had a platonic crush on him, that you manifested being his best friend from the moment you saw him; you just didn’t know that it meant this.

“Short on words?” he jokes. Earlier, you were more talkative than him, a side effect of being as awake as he is now, before you ate a peanut butter jaffle, nearly falling asleep as you finished breakfast, like a child after Seollal dinner with the grandparents. “You had so much to say when you were willing to let me, your best friend, starve.”

You roll your eyes, leaving them closed when he takes his seat, offering his arm as a plushie for you to cuddle; you also shift your hips, invading his personal space to lean even deeper on him. “As if you would starve. How many donuts did you eat? Six? A dozen? How many sandwiches?”

“Are you calling me fat?”

You slide your arm across his abdomen, letting your hand dangle on the other side. “I’m saying you’re just giving me more surface area to hug.”

Jeno rolls his eyes, his entire head, mocking your actions from the first train ride, “Excuses.” You slap his chest, accidentally groping his pec (you were aiming for his arm), and leave your hand there, slowly dragging your wrist down his abs (again, not intentional – and hopefully he feels that way too) to hug his waist. He brushes your hair behind your head, equally running his thumbpad along the curve of your ear. “I got this one; take a nap.”

“You got the tickets?”

“Eung.” He pulls them out of his front pocket. “Freshly printed from the KTX terminal –“ He grabs your fingers, gently rubbing them between his like helping you wash your hands. “- ink smudged under your nails.” You groan when he drops your hand.

“Bags put away?”

“Yeah, all four of ‘em.”

“Make sure the pastries–”

“Shhh.” Jeno curls his hand over your mouth. And you are tempted to lick his palm, except your mouth is too dry, so you resign to breathing through your nose above his long fingers. “Sleep; I got this.”

“You know, these seats recline …”

“Shh,” he repeats, laying you back down on his shoulder.

Unfortunately, you wake up the next hour after a train attendant bumps your booth with her snack cart. Ironic, since you had a weird dream involving Haechan as a Domino’s delivery boy (even though he hates American fast food!), dropping off a pizza with all the pepperoni replaced by Jeno’s eye smile, and you paid using a ₩100,000 bill with Renjun’s college CSA (Chinese Student Association) presidential portrait in the middle. Eh, you’ve had weirder. Like that dream – after Jeno started working out more … diligently, in college – where you basically pounced his bones at the end of multivariate calculus in the middle of the lecture hall. That, and the one with a young Bill Nye.

You inhale deeply and push your palms on either side of your legs, inadvertently groping Jeno’s thigh in the process, making him jolt too, when you get yourself upright, leaning a little more on him than the chair.

“Everything good?”

“Hmm?” you yawn, stretching your limbs under his arm, which somehow blanketed you during the ride. You spare it a glance before looking up at him again and answering his question, “No, yeah, all good, just –” Another yawn escapes you. “– tired’s’all.”

Jeno squeezes your torso into his chest. “You can go back to sleep. We have a little more than an hour until Busan.”

You nod into his hoodie, almost accepting it.

Then an egg sandwich with your name scribble on it appears in front of your nose. And you reluctantly wake up, shaking Jeno off your shoulders as the train attendant hands you a small paper food-box, the lunch that you reserved with an extra ₩10,000, in case the jaffle place was closed on Thursday mornings. With the professional photos and multilingual descriptions, you practically could not say no to the gilgeori toast.

Except, you can and you do. One bite into the brioche, after the attendant leaves, you barf the mashed pellet onto a napkin, quickly washing away the taste with some water.

“Don’t like it?” Jeno teases, giggling loudly. Then he takes a bite of his caprese katsu sando and immediately regurgitates it into an empty paper cup on the table. “Oh, ew.”

The two of you exchange raised eyebrows and nod at each other, verbally confirming, “Switch.”

As you finish your second sando, of three, occasionally nibbling Jeno’s food, just to make sure that you really don’t like it, the train unexpectedly shuffles forward, making a fast stop as if it almost missed the station – not the Busan Station, which you aren’t sure whether to be happy about. On one hand, it would mean that the conductor almost missed your stop in Busan (literally impossible, since it is a major station), if you were in Busan; on the other hand, reality, it just jerks the entire cart, your bags and everything loudly jangling above. You hear the rumpled plastic tote bag, full of pastries from a local shop near the Mural Village, squish between the luggage bags, and you immediately get up to save them.

Jeno’s hands stabilize you as equally quick, when you crossover his legs to enter the aisle. His strong fingers dip into your skin that exposes after you grab the pastries, your hoodie lifting right below your belly button. You exhale shakily and look down at him. He concentrates on reading the stats on the game he lost when you got up. You come back on your heels. Then the train jolts again, stopping for real. And Jeno grabs you harder, probably more surprised than you, given the way his wide eyes ask if you’re okay. You nod, then dig through his backpack, pulling out a Tupperware in addition to the pastry bag, and take your seat again – all while aided by Jeno’s massive hand.

He takes the bag from you, holding it in front of him on the table, as you open the Tupperware, to check if everything was all good – no broken cookies.

“Oh, thank Go– Hey!”

Jeno takes one of the cookies with bigger chocolate chips, although the edges are distorted, curved out of shape. “Yum, I love your mom’s recipe.”

You frown, whining, “I made those for Jaehyun and Minghyu.” You pinch his arm, closing the box and taking the bag before he eats everything there, too. “Plus, you ate an entire bakery in Jeonju. How are you so hungry?”

“Nothing compares to a mother’s recipe.” Jeno bites into the cookie again. You cross your arms under your chest, trying to emulate your best mom-caught-him-with-his-hand-in-a-cookie-jar state. He doesn’t crumble, but he coaxes the last bite into your mouth, smiling after you comply.

You roll your eyes, sighing, “God, these are good.”

Jeno rolls his eyes too, munching on his last sando again. “I love that you’re so humble about your baking skills,” he laughs

But all you catch are the I love you and his crinkly eye smile.

Attention, passengers: we have arrived at the Busan station. Please gather your belongings and departure the train at your nearest exit.

The actual stop is even worse, if that’s possible, than the other 500 it took to get here. And Jeno finds that he doesn’t like this train very much – the stop is too abrupt, and there was no warning like the previous ride. He might even file give a comment or two on the feedback card, assuming there is a box somewhere for it. Once, he gave a thumbs-down on a YouTube video for not effectively helping him tie his boxer hand wrappings. Or, maybe, the driver sucks.

He just hates that you wobble so much every time you stand up in the cart, even though the ride is over now. Not that he hates helping you. He doesn’t mind, almost enjoys it, if he were being honest – holding your waist between his long fingers, under the guise of steadying you or warming you up, given that he never really gets to be this close to you. And he takes advantage of the moment, of your exhaustion, inhaling the remnants of your shampoo as you nestle into his chest, face first.

You mumble something incoherent against his shirt, then groan when he laughs.

Jeno pushes you back up, for less than a second because you fight him, trapping his waist in your arms. He laughs a little bit louder, and his shoulders rise to his ears, allowing him to hug you around your neck, practically suffocating you between his beefy biceps. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said –” You lift your chin, pouting at him through your eyelashes. “– the Uber will be here in five.”

“Oh, then should, um, should we …?” He gestures to the exit.

“Yeah,” you doze, shaking yourself off him, shoving your hands in his blazer pockets. Jeno frowns. He hopes you can get more sleep tonight, especially since the hotel is, like, 20 minutes away from the train station. “Let’s go wait over there.”

Jeno throws his arm over your shoulder, guiding the two of you through the automatic double doors, his hand hanging in the air above your chest. Outside, you slant onto him more, wrapping your arms around his waist again, turning your cheek on his pec, eyes half-closed too. He can smell his own cologne on your skin. But, scared that you might hear his heart skip a beat, Jeno rotates you into his neck, resting his face on your hair. He only gets half-a-second though, until your phone beep beeps, altering the Uber’s presence two meters away, which is even closer than he thought. Seems like everyone wants time with you, at his expense. But as the car pulls up, honking, confirming your ride, you yawn one more time and fix his hoodie, with your arms circling behind his head, before packing the luggage in the trunk. It takes Jeno another moment for his body to move. He waits until you have to pat the car seat to grab his attention – because no matter what, he’ll always leave an eye out for you, an ear open for you, an arm free for you. And he follows.

Everything goes fuzzy during the 15-minute drive (the driver took the freeway, rather than the streets), without an object to distract him. He basically ordered you to sleep, as if the car vibrations weren’t a strong enough lullaby, shushing you into the crook of his neck, like he leaves that place specifically for you.

“– cute couple.”

Jeno snaps his neck up. The driver’s – an older man – eyes reflect a smile through the rearview mirror, and he repeats it:

“You two,” he clarifies, “You look like a cute couple.”

The sentiment echoes later, again stealing the air from Jeno’s lungs, once you arrive to the hotel, accurately predicted by the app on your phone, not that he was counting down the meters until you arrived …

Jeno barely lets you thank the driver, shoving you through another automatic double doors set with renewed vigor. You give him a weird look that he cannot quite narrow down, so he ignores it, pointing to the front desk, unaware of how much time has passed, not wanting to block the entrance. You turn slower than him, and he thinks his cover has blown, that you will know that the Uber driver said something weird, something he has pondered since, basically, middle school. But instead of asking question, you answer the concierge’s questions: Name and ID? Credit card? Reservation for … two? Jeno taps his toes into the ceramic tile, tempted to pull out his phone, but he doesn’t, in case you need him.

Then, she makes the point that snaps his neck up again: “You two make a cute couple – oh,” she frowns, typing into the computer. “A room with two beds?”

“Yes,” you confirm, sounding like gritting through your teeth. Jeno cranes his neck forward to confirm, but as he does, the concierge grants you the room tickets and you move on, pulling him by the hand – interlaced fingers – toward the elevator, avoiding the topic.

Silently, again, Jeno follows you through Floor F to Room 23, only stopping when you roll his luggage in front of the TV and dresser. He copies you, unsure what to do or say without knowing exactly when Jaehyun, or Mingyu, will stop by for lunch; although he expects it to be soon. You put your hands on your waist, staring at the floor. He almost asks you what you’re thinking about, but you cross your arms under your chest, sheathing your hands under his blazer.

“S-sorry about that,” you whisper, so quietly that he has to step closer. “Be-because she thought that we, um, th-at we are –” You wince. Jeno reaches out, squeezing your shoulder, thumb rubbing harder to reassure you further. “– were a couple.”

“It’s o– ”

“The same thing happened with that train conductor.”

“What?”

Maybe he sounds too surprised, because you look mildly offended, mouth agape. And he pauses, for what feels like eternity, until you laugh. Then, he laughs. You sway forward a little bit, both hands landing on his chest. He catches you, steadies you, again, laughter fading into a smile.

“Sorry, about that,” Jeno apologizes honestly, by the tone of his voice: soft and comforting. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling like he owes you some sort of explanation. “I guess I was too close to you.”

But you disagree.

“No, it’s fine!” you reassure him right away, as if all his worries are ridiculous – which they might as well be, since you are his best friend (don’t tell Jaemin; although, Jaemin tends to be more affectionate than you in social settings, and they have been mistaken for a couple on quite a few occasions, even with you present). Then, you glance at your hands, darting between your fingers on his shoulders and his eyes. “I w-was probably too close to you to-too.”

And with that, you retract your hands.

But he catches them, puts them back.

“It’s okay,” Jeno promises, his palms stroking small circles into your waist. “The Uber driver also thought we were a couple.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat passes.

And in that beat, Jeno realizes that neither of you are like this with your friends – you don’t hang off his arm; he doesn’t spend an entire night staring at you from the corner of his eye – and neither of you were like this as kids – you weren’t each other’s first kiss; never have you been called out for cuddling, justifying it as “we’ve been doing this since we were young!”. But this could be the residual pent-up energy from forcing his body not to immediately find you in every setting. Like, his judgement can lax while the real world pauses outside the Busan border. You know, he has let you borrow his clothes from middle school through college, to now; he has held your hand across the sidewalk, making sure that you stay on the side furthest from the cars on the street; he has hugged and kissed (your forehead) and cuddled you in the past. And each time, he shoved any inkling of feelings back down.

“I –” Jeno starts, but you are too close to his face and words fail him. He needlessly brushes hair away from your face, as if the action would bring him clarity. It doesn’t; it gives him more questions than answers, especially in the way that you slowly crawl toward his face, eyes trained on his lips. Jeno returns it, mouth parted on the last syllable he said, shoulders falling down, down, down. He slides your hips over his, stuttering his hand onto your cheek, letting you rest in his palm, your head turned, ready if he closes the distance.

You lean forward on your toes, standing tallest on his shoulders. He mimics you, getting smaller, as a way of asking for your consent, and this time, you copy him – copy what he usually does – flickering your gaze to him until enough time has passed. You get closer … closer … closer …

Ping!

“S-s-sorry,” you mumble, pulling out your phone from your back pocket but not pulling away from him. Jeno bites the inside of his mouth, unsure whether to move, since you don’t. One breath escapes his lips, mutually breaking the moment. “It’s – It’s Jaehyun – Oh,” you exclaim, as if realizing the proximity for the first time. You step back, escaping his grasp, pointing toward the bathroom at the front of the room. “I-I sh-should get ready. He – He – Jaehyun, my-my cousin, um,” you stutter, shaking your head at the ground, “I don-I don’t know why I’m telling you that; you know him.” You grab your duffel bag, but it pounds the floor. Jeno thinks you weren’t aware of how heavy it is, and he raises his eyebrows. “Anyways, -” You smile at him, hands pressing into your hips. “- he – Jaehyun – will be here in 30 minutes. I-I’m gonna go change an-and get ready in the bathroom. Yeah, uh, bye.”

You slam the door.

Another five minutes later, after he collapses on a bed, it hits him: Jeno almost kissed you.

Lunch goes off without a hitch. Mingyu picked an Italian place called La Bella Citta, which was originally meant to cater their wedding, until Jaehyun decided that he wanted traditional food at the reception. It is a pretty expensive place, hence why they paid (partially because you and Jeno are the siblings he never got). And the lunch followed a simple formula: Jeno makes a (bad) joke; Jaehyun brings up an unrelated anecdote, chuckling prematurely at just the thought; Mingyu laughs too hard, accidentally spilling champagne; and you get a bunch of memories, smiling fondly as Jaehyun cleans Mingyu’s shirt with a Tide pen.

Well, there was this one thing.

Your risotto didn’t taste very good – the rice was overcooked; butter had been added over oil; the dish lacked its creamy texture, more soupy in consistency. Thankfully, Jeno exchanged half his steak with you (not the tenderloin part, of course). No one would have noticed; had you not been so obviously gawking at him for the gesture, because it sparked Mingyu’s clumsy ass to comment something about doing the same for Jaehyun in the past. And then Jeno turned it into a competition for which of them has exchanged more meals with the Jung family (although you don’t share the same last name; you are part of the family by extension).

While they battled it out, with Jeno winning since he did take your egg sandwich on the train earlier, Jaehyun poked you in the arm. “So you brought him?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “I just thought you might bring Jaemin or Renjun – I never see Renjun, and he buys really good gifts.”

You snorted. Yeah, right. Renjun bought a choco pie for Jaemin’s birthday, like, at midnight, from a convenience store; he bought Jeno PJs, even though Jeno doesn’t wear pyjamas (you can attest); and he bought you a thrifted candle holder which broke after you put an electric candle in it. If Jaehyun wanted a good wedding gift, he should have told you to bring Jaemin. Still, you would’ve brought Jeno; like, no matter what, you would have asked Jeno first, and he would always say yes. Even during that awkward orientation week in college when his physics professor caught him shotgunning two beers at the same time right before class (it happened twice); you begged him to go to office hours with you, needing constant reassurance that you did not, in fact, sound like an idiot.

“And I thought you liked Jeno,” you frowned.

“No, I do; probably not as much as you, but of course I do. If you didn’t tell me before the wedding invites went out, I would’ve sent one to him myself.”

After that, everything everywhere happened all at once; you didn’t have time to contradict him, or self-reflect – Mingyu spilled more champagne; Jeno leaned his arm behind your chair, using his other hand to pull you closer, to help you avoid touching the entering wedding party; Jaehyun tilted his big ass forehead at you knowingly. You were almost relieved to head back to the hotel, instantly collapsing on your bed without changing out of your Sunday finest clothes instead of responding to Jaehyun’s cryptic observation.

“I’m dead; I’m dead,” you complain, throwing your arm over your eyes to block out the golden hour seeping into your room. Dramatically, you fall backwards onto your bed, relaxing your entire body into the comforter. You peak under your arm to find Jeno when he doesn’t respond, and he smiles back at you, hanging up his blazer before taking a running start.

“Oof!” Jeno flops like a fish beside you, covering his eyes too. “All of us are dead,” he jokes, referencing the drama he started last week. You started it first, binging it a couple days after it aired, but when he told you about it, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’d already seen it and watched half the season with him. It became part of your daily lunch routine, not that you know how long it will last. Your urban revitalization project is temporary, a bit long term temporary, spanning until maybe October, but still temporary.

You shift onto your side, hands folded in prayer under your head as a pillow, scanning his peaceful face. “Hey,” you whisper tentatively. You wait another few seconds (maybe even a minute) before opening your mouth, hand reaching out to touch him. “Jen, I –”

“Yeah?” his voice rasps.

“I j-just wanted to thank you for coming with me today,” you change your mind, recoiling before he opens his eyes, which he does, peering at you with the same wide curiosity as the day you met him, “And switching meals with me all day. I – I –” You inhale. “– I really appreciate it, really … appreciate you.” You whisper the last bit, hoping that he doesn’t catch it.

But he does.

“Of course,” he tells you, like he could never say no. And suddenly, you cannot recall an instance when he has ever denied you the thing – he shares his food with you; he helped you spontaneously paint your apartment at 3 AM; he gives you his clothes at the crack of dawn. “You’re my best friend.” Now you can remember the moments – he wouldn’t do the laser tag tournament with you (and Jaemin); he turned down your invite to The Griffin Bar; and worst of all, he outright refused to go to Renjun’s Single’s Appreciate Day party with you. “I’d do anything you ask.”

You roll onto your back, facing the ceiling, and close your eyes.

“Jen-Jen-Jen-Jen-Jeno, Oh!” your rapid legato whimpers wake Jeno up.

First, his body reacts, an involuntary twitch from his feet to head. Next, everything above his torso moves, his arm covering his eyes. He turns into his elbow, away from the window that isn’t as bright as he thought it would be. He, then, remembers that he, somehow, fell asleep on your bed, or you two fell asleep on the same bed; neither of you really got the chance to figure out the sleeping arrangements, since yesterday had so many activities. Not that it mattered, or was a bad thing; you did spend the previous night in his apartment, in his bed. Granted, you slept feet to head, him on top of the duvet with another blanket.

Jeno drops his arm down his cheek, cautiously opening an eye to the other half of the bed.

His hand and jaw fall.

You moan his name again, mouth gaping at the ceiling, eyes twisted shut while your back arches off the mattress. At some point in the night, you must’ve changed, or you wore that lingerie set under your dress the entire time at lunch. Jeno cannot help it; his eyes find your tits spilling out of your teeny-tiny mesh cups that don’t look like they would cover up very much skin anyways. He tries to move to your face, but his willpower fails, and he looks for the source of your moans: your hand between your legs. Unfortunately, you still wear the matching, lacy panties, and your palm hides just how wet you are, the other fisted into the sheets by his thigh.

Jeno bites his lip. Why would you wake him up like this? Do that next to him? … Unless …?

Experimentally, Jeno leans onto you, pressing his still-clothed chest over you bare arm, the one attached to the blanket, clawing it roughly. He kisses your shoulder, ghosting his index finger down your naked stomach. Your moans get louder, more encouraging, so he doesn’t stop. God, Jeno wonders how you have this pornographic glow at golden hour, before the day even starts, that he cannot get enough of. You arch further off the bed, into his touch, making his fingers pad deeper into your skin, increasing their pressure until he gets to your pussy. He cups around your hand, guiding the way you grind into your own hand. But desperate for more movement, maybe more of him, you scissor yourself. And he can feel it, feel your knuckles flex, forcing your thighs separate for the deepest stroke.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“To-touch me, please, Jeno, touch me.”

Jeno inserts his fingers with yours, simultaneously rutting his fully erect penis on your leg, which makes him realize that he is too clothed, but he doesn’t want to pull away from you. Instead, he straddles one of your legs, grabbing the opposite side of your neck. Blindly, using his tongue to find your most prominent vein, he sucks at your throat. He kisses you, kisses your neck, sloppily, repeatedly, until you whine even louder. Jeno has to break away, moaning into the air, his chest sweating through the white whore shirt. The two of you might get a noise complaint; is it bad that the potential turns him on? He barely gets to return to your neck, barely gets to make that wet mark even more tender, when you reverse the positions.

You push him back down, temporarily, just long enough to flip your hair over your shoulder and climb his waist. And apparently, he makes a strangled sound, because you release his shirt, smoothening out the wrinkles, mumbling something about buying him a new one later, but the entire action makes more of your hair fall down, so Jeno sits up quickly. You slide down his lap, only stopped by his long, thick cock standing under his pants. His dick outlines your ass curve, pushing your cheeks further apart. With the new position – the better position – he shoves your hair back, fisting it into a ponytail the same way you fisted the sheets, exposing your neck again. He starts a new hickey, too impatient to find the last one (it is on the other side), sucking his way down. Your bra straps fall down your biceps at this point. The plastic little adjuster springing free with your tits as Jeno bounces you in front of his cock, too much acceleration rolling your body on top of his chest that he has to force his body to slow down before he cums prematurely. He wants to cum inside you.

The decision to end the foreplay, the juvenile grinding, occurs when you rip his shirt open, mumbling something about buying him another later. Your nipples rub on his pecs, almost purposefully missing his, circling around the areola. He grunts throatily, catching your ass and pulling your cheeks apart, slapping them twice, fast, as a punishment for your sopping pussy teasing him, ghosting his cock.

“I want you,” he breathes, “I want you so bad.”

“Then, fuck me.”

Jeno hooks a finger around your panties, moving his knuckle slowly over your clit until your legs shake as much as his do. He gives you a quick look, a quick kiss, before lifting you on your knees, positioning his cock between your legs. You brace your hands on his shoulders, lowering yourself with his hand on your hip. He gets halfway in your pussy, the both of you throwing your heads back, moaning to the ceiling. After a brief recovery, he trusts in all the way.

Jeno stutters his hips down, preparing the next thrust, his eyes shut tighter than your pussy walls around his dick.

Then, he wakes up. For real.

He jumps, in a cold sweat, the birds chirping outside. And maybe, Jeno should be concerned now. Initially, he just looked for you, as the first thought crossing his mind while he opened his eyes – eg, when you slept over at his apartment, feet to head, him too scared to sleep next to you in case he accidentally confesses murder, or close to, during his sleep; when he slept on your shoulder in the train; this current moment.

Yeah, technically, he is in your bed – hotel bed, but still. Jeno fumbles around the mattress, untangling himself from the blanket that you probably put on him last night. When he stands up, in the small aisle between the beds, unbuttoned pants slipping off his waist, the hem covering half his feet, he recognizes that these are yesterday’s clothes, from the lunch with Jaehyun and Mingyu. He stumbles toward the night, every part of his body warm, his cock burned by the teasing memory of almost pounding you in the very bed he just woke up in. Of course it was a dream; it was too good to be real. Jeno grumbles, palming the small table for his glasses. As he puts them on, he finds the hotel stationery branded with your messy handwriting:

Left for coffee xx be back in 30 ♡

Jeno nods his head. Half an hour. The other half of the bed was vaguely warm, he remembers. He looks to the other bed – still made, pressed enough to bounce a ₩500 coin off. Evidently, you fell asleep next to him, too, and even though he cannot recall who fell first, he can recall who woke up first and how he woke up. His cock writhes, twitches under the waistband of his Calvin Kleins, no longer swinging between his legs; it wants to know how deep your vaginal canal is, and Jeno steadies it, groaning because he spent half the day steadying your pretty waist. The thought makes him involuntarily squeeze tighter, makes him realize that his underwear constricts the blood flow that rushes to his cock head, stopping at the base like a spiteful cock ring. So, he frees his entire length, shimmying his bottoms below his ass, and hops onto the empty bed, with what he assumes is enough time to finish what his dream started.

Focusing on the upper half, Jeno dry rubs his tip, roughly massaging his finger around the head, expediting his orgasm like a college freshman testing out the sock-on-the-door myth with a solo session. His fingers curl tightly around the circumference, slowing down his thrusting. Pre-cum quickly dribbles above his navel, leaking into little pools in the crevices of his defined abs. He slathers it along his entire cock, twisting his palm up and down, moans loudly bouncing off the walls. The wetness creates the foundation for his fantasy, conjuring the image of an equally moist mouth choking down his fully length, your mouth choking down his full length. Jeno knocks his head on the wall, whole body panting into the air. His hips float, too, and he chases his hand, a poor replacement for pussy or a sex toy; ass coming off the blanket as sweat builds up on his body. He unbuttons half his shirt, sliding his fingers to his nipple. That familiar tension in his stomach creeps into his chest, and his moans get more desperate, louder.

Then, as if his dream were a premonition, you come out of the bathroom, wearing a low-cut sports bra and matching tight, black leggings.

“Ah!!” you both scream.

A beat passes, maybe an hour, Jeno cannot discern between his exhibition rising and your gaping mouth.

You react first, running into the bathroom.

“I thought you were out getting coffee?!” he shouts, covering his dick with the blankets. It twitches underneath.

“Why would you think that?!” you scream back, before calming down and cracking the door open a little bit, “I got back five minutes ago. I was putting stuff in the bathroom for my shower.” God, his dick really twitches. He might even cum untouched. You sound like the beginning of a bad porno, and maybe his fantasy was an actual bad porno, but the thought of you, with so much exposed skin, willing to expose more skin under hot water. “Why are you –”

“I thought I had time!” he interrupts. He stands up and pulls his pants on, silently screaming at his boner to go away. It doesn’t. And he resigns, praying that you won’t see it. “I thought I would hear you bring me a coffee too and have time t-to-to cover it up.” You usually buy him a coffee too; you did it all four years through college – barged through his heavy apartment door, or announced it, pressing the iced coffee on any bare skin available.

“It’s in the fridge! I didn’t want to wake you after yesterday.” You slowly come out of the bathroom, and he turns around, wincing when his still-hard penis bounces against his hip. “It’s an iced coffee,” you tell him, biting your lip and avoiding eye contact. You cross the room toward the mini fridge. Jeno sucks in a breath. The coffee is inside. Of course it is.

When Jeno coughs, you immediately turn around then look away as equally fast, having accidentally made eye contact with his penis (and him with your tits, again, just like in his dream). “Do you, um, do you still want to take a shower first, o-or can I, um, get in there?” He scrunches his nose at the poor choice of words.

“N-n-y-you can go first,” you stutter through a mirrored cough.

His shower lasts the half hour he thought he had.

Overcoming awkwardness has, surprisingly, never come up in your relationship with Jeno, not even through the ungainly middle school phase, during when you confidently kept your fleeting crush on him a secret. Well, you hoped it was a fleeting crush. Those feelings bubbled up on and off for years, and currently, they were on. Last time they turned off (aka when you suppressed them), Jeno had a girlfriend, a long-term girlfriend, for two years. You thought you were in the clear, thought you were over it, permanently, especially after they got stupidly expensive promise rings, but habits are hard to break. And you crawled right back to him.

You step out of the bathroom, towel shaking out the water droplets from your hair, casually dressed like you arrived from Hongdae. The oversized shirt doesn’t stick to your skin as much as your sports bra earlier after your quick run in the streets, or the blouse that you nearly sweated through at lunch yesterday as the afternoon temperature increased to accommodate for spring. You jump on your bed. Well, you guess this is your bed, the one closest to the entrance and bathroom, because Jeno … occupied the other one. You glance at it, instinctively hiding your hands under your tousled covers, then shake your head. As you look away, you see your handwriting on the hotel stationery crossed out in perfectly straight lines (a symptom from majoring in architecture, you know) above Jeno’s cursive:

Went down to the lobby for breakfast. It ends at 11.

You flicker at the digital clock beneath a disconnected lamp: 10:05 AM. Still early. You got up some time around 5:30 or 6, your body absorbing too much sleep, having passed out almost right after getting back to the hotel from lunch. Unfortunately, Gwangbok-Dong doesn’t open until mid-morning, about 10:30, so you couldn’t buy a wedding gift yet (you have an envelope of cash for the reception, but Jaehyun added a registry link qr code on the invites). You also hoped to give Jeno more time to sleep, knowing that he must’ve gotten five interrupted hours total in the span of 36 hours. Shopping without him would have knocked out a chore, the only chore really, and then you two could buy him a tie or just wander around the area, which, come to think of it, costs a lot of money. It costs money to breathe, Jeno once joked during an ECON 305 lecture sophomore year, so now, you might as well take advantage of the complimentary bibmbap.

By the time you get downstairs, the chefs have disappeared, and only three plain bibimbap dishes remain amongst the sparse assortment of other breakfast snacks. At least this moment has somewhat perfect timing; you didn’t have very good timing earlier when you caught Jeno with his dick in hand (or did he not have good timing? You have no idea). You snake around the buffet-style tables, picking up a small mango juice and a few side dishes in addition to the main. Once you have a decent portion, you walk toward the half-empty seating area, scanning the chairs for a place to sit. You kinda look like a new high school transfer student searching for a clique – do you sit with the band geeks and their giant brass instruments? Do you sit with the chem nerds and finish the homework that’s due tomorrow? Or do you latch onto the one person you vaguely know so that people don’t stare at you for standing too long?

Yeah, you immediately find Jeno playing some cart rider game on his phone under the table. Nice to know that the sentiment is returned, ha.

“He-hey,” you mumble, clanging your tray on the metal table. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

Jeno looks up at you and puts his phone in his pocket. He gestures to the seat already pulled out, as if it were waiting for you. “Yeah, of course.”

You eat a few bites, hoping that the tension will go down the longer you are in his presence, but he fidgets by your side, rubbing his feet together loudly over the wood flooring. He gives you an apologetic stare, waiting for you to break first. Slowly, you finish chewing part of the egg and wash it down with juice, equally marveling at him, unsure how exactly to say alright, we both know that I caught you masturbating and you probably finished off in that not-so-short shower without (1) scarring the other guests and (2) completely altering your relationship. Like, you didn’t even have sex!

“About this morning,” you start, “I should’ve knocked.”

“No, no.” Jeno shakes his head. “I should’ve … not … done … that. We’re sharing a room for the weekend, an-and it’s your space as much as mine. I’m sor-”

“I mean,” you interrupt, pushing your spoon around the bowl of rice, “it happens. You – Guys get … those,” – morning wood, hard-ons, boners – “an-and it’s not like you were thinking about me. I get it.”

Jeno makes a strangled noise, so you whip your head at him. Suddenly, you notice his proximity, and you push all the way back into your chair, accidentally skidding it across the floor. Your eyes go wide, eyebrows more talkative than your sputtering mouth. You aren’t stupid; he knows that, but Jeno is too honest for his own good, even at the expense of his own thoughts. He bites his lip, evidently saying more than intended, and that is how you have known him for the last decade – overly blunt, blurting out his thoughts easily, every answer written on his face, stuck on the tip of his tongue.

And you cannot help yourself when the memory of his massive cock resurfaces, his pre-cum pooled at the neglected slit as his fingers massage right under the head. Your fight-or-flight response activated before you could make a conscious move to take the leap, to get even closer on him than the train allowed. You wonder, breath hitched, whether you idealize his cock – whether he idealized sex with you. On your end, it has been a while since you last got laid, a couple months, bit of a dry spell hitting you at the start of this new urban revitalization project to fix up the arts district around the SeMA. The initial funding took some convincing, both the government and museum not seeing the necessity, but once your team got the ball rolling and you were able to pull in Jeno, the lead architect, and Renjun, a graphic designer, you figured that time would be more in your favor.

That was not the case.

Your team leader divided the project based on skill-level, meaning that you had to cooperate on the ground level with Jeno and Renjun, planning every move from point A to point B. So, while half your coworkers enjoy hoesik, probably out there hitting on clubgoers and getting laid, you stay at the office past witching hour, hunched over blueprints and maps and expense reports. The only saving grace, really, is working with your best friend. … Your best friend who just inadvertently admitted that he jerked off to the thought of you. … Your best friend whose dick you currently think about, trying to revisualize whether you remember it correctly. Maybe you need a refresher.

“We don’t,” Jeno clears his throat, still avoiding eye contact, hands rubbing on his jeans, “um, we don’t need to talk about it.”

You bite your tongue.

Because you do want to talk about.

Geotechnical engineering, in college, was easy. Jeno received A-level marks all three terms, nearly a 100% in the second term. Designing a new plaza around the SeMA, for your project, was easy. Jeno got his first design approved by the MOLIT and the Cultural Heritage Administration, based on a 4AM napkin sketch. Fuck, even finding your G-spot in his dream was easy (although, credit is due to the movie magic directed by his subconscious). But all of those have something in common: a template. You know, like, engineering follows a basic algorithm, as do project designs. And he’s had years of experience giving people orgasms, even made a few squirt, so he can just manipulate a technique to best suit your pussy.

With this, with you, with the real you, Jeno doesn’t know what to do, or where to start, when you are so close to him, concentrating on straightening out the main knot in the tie you wrap around his neck. I’ll buy you a new one echoes in his mind, the assurance you whispered in his dream, now that you are actually out shopping. He can smell your own body wash this time, compared to the cologne on his blazer in the train station. And you probably don’t even know how hard it was for him, then, to not kiss your neck. Maybe that’s why his subconscious creates a pattern out of it: bring you close (like at on the KTX), taunt him in his dream (give him the kiss he wanted and set up something more), bring you close again.

It took a moment, both times, to actually build up tension. The first time, he scarcely kept his eyes open, couldn’t really appreciate your body, half-tired, half-scared; probably why his subconscious went easy on him last night, as if having mercy for all the dick veins in his heart. And when he caved, you caught him. Jeno spent the better part of this shopping excursion keeping his distance – e.g., even though you browsed home appliance stores together, he walked a few meters behind you, only stopping to make commentary:

“What if we get them an air fryer?” he suggested, to get out of there as soon as possible and relieve the awkwardness.

You refuted, “They already have an air fryer. Mingyu bought one, since Jaehyun can’t cook.” Right. “Makes him feel like Baek Jongwon.”

So, you settled on a nonstick, ceramic, pink Always Pan set (in addition to the cash envelope) that Mingyu might get more use out of and help lessen the dish load. But you let Jeno pick the color.

“There,” you finish, eyebrows unfurrowing. You turn him toward the adjacent mirror, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t immediately scrutinize your work (not that it was necessary; you have been tying his ties for formal events since MUN championships in high school). Your hands linger, warm, on his shoulders, falling slightly on his pecs. Then, you let go, palms up as if an AED machine alerted you about the next incoming shock. “I’ll either do this same knot –” A cape knot. “– or an Eldridge knot, depending on which dress I choose, but both look good for a solid color tie, like this one.”

“What about a trinity knot?”

Jeno cannot believe that he is making small talk with his best friend about the various types of knots; the same best friend who vomited into a cup 0.2 seconds after entering a bar, resulting in your entire group getting kicked out, and then fell asleep on the sidewalk outside, resulting in a cop arresting all seven of you for the night because you made it seem like you were all blackout drunk. Your relationships survived that whole mess, despite everyone losing the ₩25,000 entrance fee (although, Haechan and Renjun refused to go out with you for, like, a month). Most importantly, your relationship with him survived that; actually your relationship with him didn’t even take a hit. He nursed you back to health the next day, which might have, or not, been a symptom of his excessive drinking – tucking you into bed with a thousand blankets, bringing you 35 water bottles, taking your temperature every 4 minutes.

“Mmm,” you consider, fixing your gaze back at his neck. “Probably not. It’s not really formal enough for a wedding, and I’m already on the fence about an Eldridge knot, in case Jaehyun or Mingyu want to wear one – it’s like if I wore a white dress to their wedding. People would think that we were getting married.” Jeno raises an eyebrow and is met with silence. You drop into your hands, twiddling your thumbs, a forced laugh bubbling through your esophagus. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s, um, it’s fine,” he reassures you. He should be sorry, for making you deal with his emotions. “You could, um, tie it change it at the wedding hall, or, um, at the reception. I don’t think I’ll end up wearing it all night.”

“Or you could learn how to tie something better than a half-Windsor,” you tease, slowly lifting your head.

An identical smile breaks onto his face. “It’s a classic for a reason!”

“Call it what it is: basic.”

“I haven’t had to learn how to do other knots!” Jeno pushes your shoulder, laughing when you do. “Besides, it’s never about my clothes. I’m just the accessory, your arm candy.”

Your giggles fade, then almost as if remembering the distant morning, you separate from him. And he has to close the distance again. He tentatively reaches for your hand, boldly threading your fingers together. You don’t react, instead choosing to focus on the glass display case under the mirror. Your hair moves just a little, the strands loose from your ponytail blowing, slightly, in the wind. His hand could replace it – the hair tie – if you wanted (it’s what his subconscious wants), but you focus on the glass display case under his reflection. You fiddle with the blade of a tie that you both rejected earlier (ha, you seem to be rejecting a lot of things today). The color didn’t suit his skin tone or the garden wedding theme; Jaehyun made sure to include a sample of his bouquet in every invitation. How is he going to be a good wedding date, to you, if you can barely look at each other?

“Did I sa–?”

“Let’s buy this one,” you decide, interrupting him simultaneously. You pull the purple off him, as if un-marking him. Another stark contrast to his dream, which has him wondering whether his fantasies are boring. “Then, we can get dinner at that bistro down the road. I know you’ve been craving steak, and Jaehyun is doing a chicken-or-fish style reception.”

Jeno shakes his analog watch into view: 3:27 PM. You finished breakfast before noon. Should you leave now, you might be able to finish dinner just as quickly (or long), based on your pace eating bibimbap, and grab coffee before the café by the hotel closes.

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

Jeno pays for the tie and an extra two white dress shirts (just in case), as well as a chocolate bar from the tiny stand at the register, stacked near the gift cards. You thank him, but it is the least he can do – (1) he feels really bad for this morning, and (2) you essentially paid for every other part of this trip except the food. He reassures you that you need not apologize; you are his best friend, but then you throw that back in his face when he brings up money. Both of you keep parroting “don’t worry, it’s fine” at each other, only to retreat into awkward silence.

You hold the shop entrance open for him, gesturing him out the door, then walk a pace behind him. The medium-sized, paper shopping bag swings between the two of you; well, it would, if he stood next to you.

Jeno stops.

“What are we doing?”

You pause too, body freezing mid-motion for a second, then you look over your shoulder, eyes looking him up and down. When his head tilts to the side and his eyebrows furrow, you turn around.

“We’re going to the bistro,” you answer, as though it were obvious.

But Jeno already knows that. He made the plans with you half an hour ago. “No, I mean this. Why are we –” He shakes his head again; he knows why, too. His reflection in a department store catches his eye, so he pulls you from the middle of the sidewalk around the corner, somewhat hidden behind another building. “What are we doing?”

“Jeno … are you okay?”

“I’m serious! We practically spend every day together, it feels desolate when you’re gone, and … and –” He steps into your personal bubble. “You’re not here with me right now.”

“Jen,” you drag out his name, looking away from him, “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

You are not hearing him.

Jeno cautiously withdraws his hands from his bomber jacket. His nails accidentally scratch the pocket inner lining, giving him a chance to back out, to reconsider his declaration. But he doesn’t need a second chance; he just needs the first chance. So, instead, Jeno grabs your palm, inching his fingers up your elbow, and scans your eyes. Without resistance, you draw him closer at his waist. The shopping bag falls down low on your wrist, drumming against his thigh and yours. He feels your leave his waist and slide up his cheek; he has to close his eyes, not entirely believing the way his body betrays him, leaning into your face.

“I … I …” he pants, head spinning.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assuage. He can feel your breath on his lip, so he sucks in air, lips parted slightly, scared he might ask for too much. And maybe that is where you get a signal – get the signal – because he feels you rise to the tips of your toes and kiss him. “Let’s just order room service.”

Why did you say that? Let’s just order room service. The suggestion prolonged the time before you could kiss him again, because once you got back to the hotel, heels practically floating off the ground, you had to wait.

Luckily, the hotel was just around the corner. If you ran, you would have been upstairs in 10 minutes, but the two of you took your time, practically strolling through Gwangbok Road. He walked beside you this time, his pinky occasionally grazing behind your hand.

And in the elevator, Jeno became bolder. His entire body, previously trembling, gravitated toward you, latching onto every part that you would allow, and you gave him permission, made it known that you wanted him to touch you. You almost pressed him into the reflective wall, trapping him on the cold metal railing, but you restrained yourself; you already made that initial move: kissing him (well, it was the next move, since you caught him masturbating, earlier, to the thought of you. Then, he was the first person out the elevator, practically dragging you into the bedroom, nearly detaching your arm. Outside your hotel room, Jeno kissed you. Your hips knocked beside the key swipe, making it easy to fumble the key card out of your pocket and through the lock. You didn’t open the door immediately, choosing, instead, to stand on your toes, and wrap your arms behind his neck, essentially climbing him, like a tree, in the empty hallway, the shopping bag floundering on his back. Jeno paused the kiss, trailing his lips away, ghosting his breath on your tongue. His gaze flickered from your parted mouth to your eyes, and you saw his dilated pupils grow bigger. He pointed his eyebrows to the green light, right before it turned red. You scanned his face for another rejection, and seeing none, you opened the door.

But once you got inside, Jeno sat you on the bed, perching you where you fell asleep next to him last night. You dropped the shopping bag and your jacket to the floor, staring up at him the entire time, hopefully inviting. While he towered over you for this second, you admired your work – bruised lips, static hair, flushed skin, even his breath bated. Subconsciously, you touched your bottom lip, dragging it down to see if it were equally swollen (it was). Jeno took a step forward, but changed his mind, ordering room service from the restaurant downstairs through the phone on the nightstand.

Now, you flicker your gaze over his body, checking him out like a man who convinced his foreigner girlfriend not to dress modestly at the clubs. Your eyes flicker slower, up his tiny waist (that makes his flat ass appear a little plump) to his strong biceps, sleeves pushed up to reveal more skin, back to his lips, which mumble a swift thank you before returning to the edge of the bed. You slide to the very tip, spreading your legs wide open enough for him to stand between. Jeno curls his thumb under your jaw, lifting your chin, maybe admiring your features too. You hope that you look equally disheveled.

Jeno gently pins you on the bed, slithering up your torso, brushing his pecs on your tits. He grabs your waist, fingers dipping toward your butt, dragging you to meet his pelvis.

“You have to tell me,” he says, eyes closed, millimeters from kissing you again, “right now, that you want this, want me, before we do anything more.” His thumb comes under your shirt, drumming an indiscernible beat directly on your stomach, just around your belly button, almost unsure which direction to go – toward your pants, toward your bra, outside your shirt. Your breath hitches, and you feel your body sink lower into the mattress. “I need to know that we’re on the same page.”

“Can’t you feel it?” You guide one of his hands down your pants, his long middle phalanges driving cautiously into the seam. He cups your pussy, falling level on your chest. His lungs pant heavily into the back of your neck, tickling the hairs into standing up. “I want you.”

Jeno chases your lips, barely managing, “Not what I meant.” With your consent, he kisses you again, and you, consumed by his undivided heat, ignoring everything that isn’t his touch, like the white sheets rusting under your long hair as his shirt grinds into your abdomen, riding your clothes up. He hooks a hand under your thigh, switching the positions for you to straddle him. His legs stretch forward, feet planting into the ground, which gives him the leeway to sit up and brush your hair back into a makeshift side ponytail. Jeno scans your eyes, darting side-to-side, all the tension melting away after you smooth his shoulders. “I … I …”

You caress his cheek, having mercy on his dick (currently hard under your ass), and lift his chin higher. “I know what you meant.” You press your lips into his, chastely. He responds, puckering his lips each time you peck him, but he also frowns – frowns deeply enough for you to really pull away; his frown looks more intense than you felt. “I …” you whisper, sliding your arms on his shoulder, fiddling with his hair. You teeter on your knees, shifting your weight across his lap. He stops you. “I like you so much. More th-than friends.” Then you kiss him again, to wipe your confession away, because you can live with it. You can live with the repercussions of his mistake; you can be his mistake. This doesn’t have to be a whole thing. You don’t need to finish your confession with his rejection.

Jeno whimpers your name, tugging you away by your hair. “I –”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, “You don’t need to say it. Just me –”

“No, I need to –” He sucks in a breath. “Can I kiss you?”

You shake your head, an actual mistake because he freezes; you only meant it in disbelief. So, you lower down again, sliding your hands under his jaw. You turn your head to the side and mumble, “Don’t stop,” before reconnecting.

Jeno pats his palm on your pussy. His opposite hand, the one above your hip, fingers your waistband, scratching continuous circles, waiting for an affirmation. “I meant kiss you here.” He pouts at you through his eyelashes. “Can I kiss you lower?”

You shimmy off his lap, pushing him into the bed. “Everywhere,” you answer hastily. He helps you glide off your pants, and his veiny hands are all you can concentrate on, everything else blurring until he fondles your clit, above your black panties.

“Do you like this?”

“God, yes,” you pour moans into his mouth, holding his throat straight, like a tall glass for iced tea. When he inserts a single, long digit between your wet pussy lips, he winces, as if being penetrated himself, as if you found his prostate on the first try without any lube other than your spit. He adds a second finger, his longest finger, the middle finger, the ‘fuck you’ finger (literal in this case), prompting you to hump his hand. Your hips roll forward, increasing intensity. You gasp when he scissors his fingers wider and crosses them over one another, like a promise, then you bounce higher, your ass cheeks squeezing together. “Fuck, I didn’t know you could do that.”

Jeno slips in another digit, curling all three forward, his ring finger (the free one) twitching unrestricted. “I guess there’s still a bit you don’t know about me,” he blows into your gaping mouth, your moans following his rhythmically to the beat of some song you cannot think of while riding him.

You sink all the way down his hand, grinding your clit on his palm, and take off your shirt. Before your tits can spring free, Jeno pulls you close, trying to suck marks above your bra. You grate broken ah, ah, ahs, growing louder whenever his fingers sheath completely inside you. As if goading you, he slaps your jiggly ass, twice for every once you shake down. You yank Jeno away by his hair, darting through his swollen lips, his flushed cheeks, his narrowed eyes. Under you, his dick twitches.

“Should I –“ you pant, slowly stopping on his hand. But he seems not to like that response and drives his fingers back up. “Can I,” you correct, “ah, ah – Can I help you with-with that?”

“I want you to cum.” Jeno squeezes your ass cheek, and you fall into his lips again. Your tongue falls out, stiff, virtually asking for something to occupy your mouth. He takes his free hand, shoving it between your lips, pushing your tongue down, saliva pooling under his fingerprint. “Are you close, pretty girl?” His hand moves faster, rougher. Your thighs twitch. “Feels like it.” Your panties threaten to slip back into place, so he rips it. “Sorry,” he mumbles carelessly. You don’t blame him, too focused on your legs tensing up but his thumb on your tongue pushing you back down.

“Don-don’t worry,” you whimper, “I, ah-uh, have a – ah – nother pair. They’re also black, fuck, but lace. Hides better under my-my dress.” You skid lower down his waist, and his cock stands up on your ass.

“Fuck, you’re going to ruin me.”

“Untouched?”

“Maybe.��

However, you don’t like the thought, considering it unfair – unfair to him that he has to settle for a cheap orgasm; unfair to you that you cannot milk him dry between your thighs. So, you descend his legs, prying him open at the knee. You spare it a glance, covered by his jeans, wondering what it would be like to bend over it, ass in the air, spanked harder.

“Hey,” Jeno calls, snapping you back to attention. You relieve your thighs, unclenching, to stare at him. “Is this –” he inhales sharply, possibly trying to come off nonchalant, like it would be okay if you decided to stop, decided that you didn’t want this anymore; you swoon. “Is this still okay?”

“Of course.” You meet his eye. “Always.” You loop the tops of your fingers under his waistband, above his Calvin Kleins, the name brand embroidered as thick as his veins leading under it. “Can I help you with this?”

“God, yes, please,” he finally answers, throwing his head back on the pillows.

You unzip his pants, the sound bouncing off all four walls without any moans to cushion it; you could practically hear a pin drop. Jeno props himself on his elbows, and his abs crunch forward, tightening his impeccably defined six pack. Like, you already knew – since college – that he sculpted his body at the gym like Pygmalion did Galatea, but it adds pressure, not because your hand wraps around his cock (you have yet to touch him), rather because his gaze burns holes through your hands.

“You don’t,” he mumbles, “You don’t have to take it all. If you can’t. You don’t.” Jeno shakes his head, his hair shyly hiding his eyes. “I just want you, so it’s o – Fuck.”

You lick the premature bead of cum, digging your tongue in his slit to clean all of it out. Your thumb and index fingers wrap, tightly, below the glans. You bob your head a little lower, tasting just the tip, flittering your eyes to gauge his reaction. While your inexperienced days are behind you (pun intended), Jeno has this magical first-love quality about him, that makes sucking his dick seem like your first, like when two rom-com leads finally have sex, except it’s in a car on a cliffside for added drama. He appears to agree – how? You don’t know exactly for sure, but people outside your relationships have mentioned that you make a good first girlfriend.

Jeno involuntarily stutters his hips higher, pushing half his cock past your lips, making you gag. Evidently, there are many things about him you still don’t know – namely, how big his dick is. You always suspected him to be above average, especially after his sporadic growth spurts in high school, but you never imagined that this would be your way to measure him! He can barely fit half his shaft through the rim of your lips. And it gets worse (better?) when you hollow your cheeks, scraping your tongue above your teeth, because your mouth squeezes him out. Jeno mumbles a string of curse words, nearly screaming them as you suck harder, his fists twisted in the blankets. You pull off his cock, replacing your mouth with your hands, albeit tighter, and spiral your saliva down to the base, leaning tall on your knees to spit more on his tip, in the slit from where precum bubbles out.

“I told you: I want you.”

“Fuck.” Jeno throws his head back. “Okay, sit on my face.”

You stop moving your hand, subconsciously throbbing your palm to the beat of his (dick) pulse. “What?”

Jeno’s fingers tap on the blanket, his voice increasingly whiny, “Sit. On. My. Face.”

You comply, kneeling around his cheeks, knees brushing his shoulders – which still wear his shirt, nothing but his abs and penis exposed. All the cloth touching your skin makes you feel more vulnerable, most likely more vulnerable than Jeno, and he might regret this in the morning. So, as he anchors his extra-large hands under your thighs, digging into your muscles, you pinch his shoulder, like a safe word, a safety action. And he stops.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, curving his neck to see you better. Maybe you frown too deeply or maybe you are on the verge of tears, because he sits up again, immediately spinning in front of you. “Hey, -” He gingerly reaches for your cheeks, holding your chin above his fingers. “- We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want. It’s okay. I want you to want this.”

“I,” you swallow, cautiously looking into his eyes. You cover your chest, hide your boobs by your bra – the only clothing on your body - and naked arms. “I just,” you mumble before finishing lamely, face warming with his hand, “feel really naked.”

“Oh,” Jeno says simply. He scans your face indiscernibly, so you, not wanting any of this to end, raise your eyebrows suggestively and glance at his shirt. “Oh!” Jeno takes it off, elbows crossing on either side of his ears, showing off his Dorito torso. And you must have been leaning forward, because you fall into his chest, a hand bracing widely on his obliques. You sheepishly raise your face, slightly ducking under his perky nipple; you lower eye-level with it and hesitantly lick it. “Fuck. Is this why you wanted me to strip?”

You flatten your tongue under his areola, then flick upward, tentatively building more pressure until you have his waist in both your hands, holding him steady while you massage his nipples. Your opposite thumb pushes small circles where your mouth neglects, almost kneading him like that time he taught you, in Chem 224, how to use a mortar and pestle properly, holding the ceramic bowl firm against the thick pestle breaking apart various solids into fine powders. Deeming his left pec marked enough (by your nails and lips), you move to the right, leaving a moist path between his boobs, but, rather than fondling the other side, as you did when it was dry, you fist his dick, dragging him forward. You assume Jeno gets the hint, given that he traps you on the sheets, under his flexed biceps. He kicks off the rest of his pants and slithers up your body, pressing his completely naked body into yours, only your bra left as a barrier. Jeno straddles across your hips, his cock spasming, as if asking you to do the last honors while he gropes your entire lower half, massaging your ass with the heels of his palms.

“Do – do you-you still want me to sit on your face?”

“No,” he heaves instantly before doing a partial push up (push down?) to kiss you, aggressive and instant. You can feel his broad deltoids pinch together while you ground yourself on his muscles, using the moment as an excuse to grope him. He swirls his tongue in your mouth, simultaneously smacking his wet lips to you, making you constantly chase him, come up only to be pushed down again. “Fuck, mayb-maybe later.” Later. You’re going to do this again. Jeno holds his torso still, slowly moving his cock between your pussy lips, lubricating himself prepared. “I want, uh, I want to be inside you,” he moans, voice breaking, “Can I fuck you? Please?”

You guide his tip into your cunt. “Please.” And when he stretches your hole, urging his girth past the involuntary tightening, you arch your hips up. “Full, full, fuck.” He shallowly thrusts, pulling out a little bit, only to push in more. Your thighs shake, and you point your feet down, curling your toes, to keep your legs separated enough for him to go faster. But you notice that, while he pistons in and out of your cunt, you cannot feel his balls slapping your ass; you cannot hear the distinct skin-on-skin noises – that’s when you realize: he’s not completely in you, despite the full feeling practically in your cervix. “Jeno,” you whine, “Fuck me.”

“I am,” he answers, breath quivering through gritted teeth.

“Harder,” you beg, fidgeting to give him additional access, little grabby hands wriggling along the outline carved around his muscles. “More.” You claw into his well-defined six pack. “F-fill me up all the way.”

Jeno mattes your hair down with his thumbs, coaxing your eyes open again. You peak through just one, then slowly open the other; you can feel the lines in your forehead melt away. Just for a second though. Because he uses your temporary relief to bottom out. You barely process any of his movements, until he kisses you again, his thrusts stuttering too gently. His breath trembles, controlled, masking the way his hands fight some urge to bruise your hips, so you hook your shin around his strong leg and topple him. When you sink down on his dick, taking every inch, pussy working overtime to accommodate him, the both of you groan. You honk his pecs, matching each squeeze with your breath. The bedsheets rustle, having come undone with all your tossing and turning, and Jeno kicks the blankets off the bed, sitting up. He mouths your perky tits, tilting his head to the side, jaw dropping with his tongue to suck as much skin as possible. You grab the headboard, accidentally slamming it into the wall, once, twice, three, four, five times, when he circles his hips, dick flopping around inside your cervix, ridiculously deep. Jeno grabs your ass, strikes your skin hard to start bouncing you on his lap. He helps you keep his cock inside your pussy, guiding you less than halfway up and banging his skin against yours. The position pushes you forward, allowing his shaft to graze your sopping clit, vulva pinning opened.

“Ahh,” you scream, “Je-Jeno, I’m-I’m –“ You throat tightens, words choking, “Oh, shit, I’m gonna cum.”

Jeno brings his lips to yours, half a millimeter away. He grunts, abs tightening too. “Cum, baby, you can do it. You can do it. Come on, baby.” He grabs you by the throat, holding you in place as he licks into your mouth, eating up every moan, every breath, and fucks you faster. Your pussy gets wetter, more malleable, and you finally cum, toes curling, unwinding in his chokehold, tongue flopping out. He kisses your pink, plump tongue, lips smacking heavily, moaning out his nose and mouth, “Uh, uh, uh, fuck. Can-can I –“

“Cum inside me,” you finish for him, answer for him.

Jeno propels his cock a couple more times, the last one driving both of you into the air. Thick spurts of cum shoot into your pussy, almost adding another inch, the tip of his cock hitting, jerking, on your G-spot. You sit there for a little bit, your bodies slumping down the headrest, possibly addicted to the way your walls continuously milk even more cum out of him.

When he finally finishes, cum forcing its way down your thighs, he kisses you. “So … about sitting on my face?”

Your face lights up, the thought of him eating his own cum out your cunt way too exciting, and you push him on the bed, immediately popping his cock out and straddling his mouth.

An obnoxious ringing interrupts Jeno’s dream, way too early (well, anything that wakes him up is too early), and he whines at it, preferring to sink into his heated mattress pad. But the default iPhone ringtone seems especially heartless, right now, for whatever reason – even though he probably wake up earlier than this during the work week. He buries his head in his pillow, trying to force the alarm into snoozing. His nose brushes into the soft pillowcase, inhaling the aromatherapy. Then, it moves … you move. And Jeno remembers the night before. It wasn’t a dream this time.

You slam your hand on the nightstand, briefly sliding out of his arms. The alarm – your phone – persists though, falling to the floor. You mumble a small fuck under your breath, softer than last night; the memory makes his dick twitch. He feels you crawl over the edge, rustling the bedsheets, your ass brushing his dick away. You dip heavier into the side with a Herculean effort, reaching for your phone, then slide it onto the mattress under your pillow. He tries not to react, tightens his already closed eyes, but his dick twitches. Thankfully, you seem blissfully unaware, nuzzling back into the pillows, a hand crossed over your chest, breathing deeply.

Jeno exhales through his nose, relieved. You must’ve fallen back to sleep – good, honestly, with work and then the whole train ride mess a couple days ago. Maybe he can use the time to finish what he started yesterday morning. Unfortunately, when he grabs his cock, points it up, his pelvis scrunching his abs, your thighs part, just briefly, then close again. The tip catches between your ass cheeks, trailing toward your pussy, sliding with back and forth, aided easily by how wet you are. Jeno internally groans at the thought of you having a sexy dream, hopefully about him. You start swaying, and your arm starts shaking, and your breath labors – you are touching yourself: your neck, your arms, your stomach, your clit. All the shifting spurs Jeno into action. He slowly and shallowly rocks his hips forward, spreading your natural lubricant across the top half of his cock. You lean into him, hands changing to claw his burly naked shoulder, and guide his fingers to your cunt. At the new position, the closer position, he sloppily mouths the part between your neck and shoulder, his breath as hot and heavy as his tongue.

You freeze for a second, stiffening your posture, and he thinks that maybe he misunderstood or that you changed your mind, so he slowly pulls back. His cock springs free from the tight crevice, wet and warm and hard, twitching on your round ass.

“I’m sor – Did you not – I thought – I’m sorr –“

You turn around and kiss him quiet, throwing a leg over his hip. Your heel digs into his lower back, above his flat ass, lodging the tip in your pussy again. Slowly, you lower yourself on his cock, kissing him harder the further you sink down. Once he is completely inside, you pull your face back and wrap your arms around his neck, practically fusing your bodies together. Everything moves too fast for him. Jeno is unable to appreciate your touches. He makes it known with a mewl, chest beating quicker than yours. And as if you sense it – best friend intuition, you might say in any other situation where his dick isn’t in you, like wordlessly handing over a bag of ramyeon that you ‘borrowed’ from Renjun’s room – you brush a few strands of hair away from his eyes, and he opens them this time. You’ve always been good at comforting him: when he had a panic attack over losing his wallet, when he got reprimanded at work for shredding the wrong abstract, etc. He has always known it. Well, not always; he doesn’t know where it began, but he knows the feeling will last forever, like a vow. Jeno hugs you around your waist, tighter, asking you to move for more or to stop for less, because, much like last night, should you give him an inch, he’ll take a meter.

“Don’t be sorry,” you beg, humping his cock again. “I want you.”

Jeno loses balance and falls on his flat ass, his thighs sandwiched densely between yours. He fumbles around the bed, pushing away the thin sheet to see his cock disappear in your pussy. It should be impossible; you should be tight, having nothing to prep you beforehand, but maybe his stroke game last night was enough, you came twice on his cock alone, the stretch evidently lasting through now. The mattress creaks and the headboard hits the wall as you bounce firmly, knees jabbing into the bed. Your breath shakes, abs visibly flexing, and you fall forward, hair splaying over his shoulder. He licks his middle finger, then drags it under your thigh, trapping his cock in a V, using his lubricated finger for added pressure on your clit, his dick abusing its underside. His free arm belts behind your back, index finger teasing outside the rim of your asshole.

“Oh, oh,” you scream, biting your lip, pawing the comforter for some stability while he rams your little cunt. “F-f-ffuck.” He spanks your ass, dragging the meaty flesh up with a glowing hand mark. “Cu-cu-cumming. Mmm, oh my god, I’m so c-close.”

“Already? Shit.”

You tuck your hips forward, and he takes advantage, moving his hands under your torso, massaging your clit with all his fingers and sucking your tits. The repetitive sounds synchronize – your whimpering, his whimpering, your skin slapping into his, the bed springs screeching, your cunt squelching. All of it overwhelms his senses, and had you not been so close to his ear, Jeno would’ve missed your mantra:

“Jeno, Jeno, Jeno,” you squeal, moans getting increasingly louder, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, cumming.” Your pussy drools cum down his legs, and he gradually decelerates, riding out your orgasm.

A beat passes, full of tense heavy breathing, before he pants in your face, nearly screaming (as if you hadn’t done so a moment ago, in his ear, with his face buried in your neck). “Breakfast,” he says simply, loudly, trying to hear himself through the ringing in his ears that preserves the way your moans sound, as if this could end on Monday morning when you get back to your real lives – which it could. You never said what this is. “Should we, um, should we get breakfast?” He remembers your alarm, trying to suppress the hardness in his cock, as if this were all just a formality, a complimentary wake up call not provided by the hotel, and he looks away, but he doesn’t go far, only dropping to your lips, not wanting to part, even in his view. “You know, that first meal of the day, typically eaten during moan-morning, often in, um, including rice, eggs, milk –”

Jeno flickers his eyes away from your lips, catching you gazing at him. Somehow you make it less creepy than when he does it. There was this one time at the end of high school when he checked on you, in the next cubicle over, in the library, only to find you asleep on your textbook, relying on osmosis rather than flash cards to study for the CSAT; 15 minutes passed and he felt like he regressed into that middle school nerd who just stood there, wheezing. Or that other time in international student building during college when Renjun slapped him on the arm because he was staring at you too long; he lied, saying that he was just making sure you got the right coffee from the vending machine, but Renjun knew. Jeno is convinced that his entire friend group knows how he feels about you – Haechan tried setting him up with you back in high school; Jaemin practically read his diary; Mark … Mark might actually be the only one who doesn’t know, for sure, but he definitely suspects something!

You grab his chin, snapping him out of his thoughts, and search his face before kiss him, your eyes fluttering closed as you grind him through the overstimulation. “Cum in me,” you order, “I’ll milk your cock dry.”

“Fuck,” Jeno breathes, never detaching his lips. He hugs low on your waist again, slapping your ass with both his hands. And when he can’t take it anymore – take the grinding, the clenching, the bouncing – he mumbles your name in your mouth, “Baby, I ne, uh, I need to cum. Let me cum inside you,” he takes you up on your offer, like the more-than-decade-long pining stops at a dam, at your answer.

Wordlessly, you shove you tongue in his mouth, cradling his cheek as he leans deeper between the pillows. You grab whatever length of his cock that is not in your pussy, and he whimpers when you throb your hand around him, teasing the other half inside your cunt. Jeno scoots forward, using the momentum to slap himself all the way in you, making your hips stutter. Fuck, you’re tight. And he knows that it’s a dumb myth for the vagina to be this compact, narrow canal, but your wall muscles barely conform to his girth, and the thought boosts his ego, so he holds you steady against his chest, repeatedly ramming your pussy with long thrusts. Your tits jiggle off your chest, scraping his pecs, almost slapping him in the jaw as he tilts his head up to suck more bruises under your chin, to soothe you from all the choking last night.

“Je-Jen,” you stammer, “I don’t –“ You swallow, shaking your head. “My legs are-are going to giv-give out.”

“It’s okay, baby, just breathe,” he tells you. He punctures your hips at a faster pace, like giving your pussy CPR, ordering your clit to administer a shock, blowing the kiss of life for the both of you. “In, out, in, out, in, out,” he guides, “You can do it.”

Jeno flips you on your back, an oof resounding the room, yelps and giggles following. He gives you a second to gather your composure, regulate your breathing, then pistons his cock repeatedly in your pussy. His tip catches on a particularly hard clench, and your walls refuse to let him go, trapping him in a spot that abuses your G-spot. He pushes the entire length inside you, practically fucking your cervix again, driving your back arched. You writher along the mattress, hair splaying among the sheets. His fists outline your obliques, thumbs erroneously pointed outward, trying to support your back. He accidentally slips on a particularly hard thrust, but before he can save himself, he protects your skull from hitting the headrest or your arm from getting crushed by his chest. Phew. Maybe if he were weaker, he would hold you on the bed, thrusting in a way that lets the both of you fall into the pillows, or maybe if he were stronger – mentally and physically – he would be able to stay up, not tempted or dizzy at the sight of your slightly parted mouth. Jeno readjusts his hands – one pushing your waist into the comforter, for his own support, and the other creeping toward your neck. You lift your chin up, giving him consent, and it takes him a second to move forward; he didn’t think he would get this far, that you would completely let him manhandle you. But, he guesses, he doesn’t know everything about you, and he is so excited to discover more. He pads his fingers on either side of your esophagus, squeezing just enough to make breathing a little harder for you, make it harder for you to follow the breathing pattern he ingrained in your cunt.

“Fuck, baby, breathe just like that.” Jeno peeks an eye wider, glancing at the blanket tosses away. Cautiously, he drifts his gaze to your stomach, and his cock twitches. You moan loader, almost confirming him thoughts – is he really that deep? Your pussy clenches. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Jeno kisses you. “Cum with me,” he moans your name.

You used to make fun of him for being such a romantic, always cooing when he’d swoon over Knox and Chris, until he decided that he didn’t like their romance anymore. It’s too possessive. Although, he understands the sentiment, because the way you look at him, now, face contorting over your second building orgasm, incomprehensible whines spilling into the air. He should have done this sooner, should have kissed you sooner, and he would have, if he had known it would lead to this, because he can do it; he can bury the depth of his feelings while you sort yours out. If he can have you this close, like this, he would do anything.

Jeno draws his hips back, your name snagging on his moan. He feels your fingers dig in harsher as your legs tense up, tension building in your stomach. His knees chafe against the sheets, rocking an imprint into the mattress that keeps your legs open. Jeno slows his thrusts, instead hammering his entire cock harder. He tries not to cum prematurely, wanting to see your second orgasm of the morning overstimulate, but as he abrades your clit, holding your thighs wide, he feels himself shoot a thick rope of cum deep in your pussy, and it’s not long until he spills everything else, fucking you through his own orgasm, fucking his cum into you, your hole greedily drinking it all. You follow a few hits later, shaking your ass to help yourself along, then Jeno collapses, sweaty hot body enveloping your matching one. He presses sloppy, wide, open-mouthed kisses on your clavicle, steadily trailing up your neck, your cheek, and pecking you on the lips.

“Better than your dream?” you giggle, returning a kiss.

“Way better.”

Getting out of bed takes forever. The first time you tried to leave, you sat on the edge, stretching your arms upward. You bent over, standing on the ground, reaching for your toes, shaking off the jelly sensation, but Jeno, equally awake, rejuvenated from the twenty-minute rest since his cock was in you, leaned over the edge as well and made out with your pussy, licking all the way to your rim and back. Rather than shoving his head away, you pushed your hips back, for more, and eventually returned to bed, kicking up your legs and giggling your way into another blow job. The second time you tied to leve, you had to cross over Jeno’s body to get to the aisle between your beds, since your bed was pushed against the wall). You slithered a leg over his waist, balancing your palms on his shoulders, his cock twitching on your ass. He grabbed you by the waist, holding you there. You raised your eyebrows, pretending to be innocent (even though you really did want to get out of bed) as his cock hardened.

And now, the third time, your legs shake on your way off the mattress, having experienced way too many orgasms in less than thirty-minutes.

“Come back to bed,” Jeno whines, patting the empty warm spot you previously occupied.

“No,” you laugh, holding your arms out for balance before you fall again. You slap his grabby little hand away from your ass, much to his dismay, and pick up one of the new shirts you bought him yesterday that slipped out of the bag after Jeno kicked over a blanket. “I’m hungry,” you pout, facing him and buttoning up the top few buttons. “I need something to eat.”

“You have something I want to eat.”

“Real food, dork.” You walk over to your luggage, hunching over, ass on display but too far away from him. He groans, and you can hear him flop back onto the bed. You slip on a pair of panties, and his groan gets louder, making a smile instinctively spread on your face. “Come onnnn,” you complain, crawling onto the bed with a blouse and bra in hand, inching into his face, “Let’s grab something at that bistro. We won’t have a lot of time tomorrow at the wedding, and it’s already 5.”

Jeno sits straight, back against the headrest, his arms behind his head, showing off his thick muscles and tiny waist. He looks you up and down, a frown settling into his lip as he releases his arms with another groan. “Are we doing this backwards?”

“Doing what?” you ask, focused on exchanging his top for yours, another long-sleeve but black this time. You creep onto his lap, legs folded over the edge. He instantly goes to stabilize your waist, and you replace your arms around his neck, giving him a chaste (albeit sensual) kiss on the cheek, the corner of his mouth. “I just want to get dinner.” You put a hand on his arm, doing your best to give him a set of puppy dog eyes that you hope he cannot refuse. “Please?”

Jeno throws his head back. “Okay, let me put on some pants.”

The wait time at the bistro exceeded the amount of time it took to get ready and Uber over there, so you decided to look for something else. It seemed as though the universe wanted to punish your feet, everything else either closed by noon or surpassing an hour wait. You know that Jeno hates waiting more than 45-minutes. If he even knows that the restaurant is trendy or high-end, he won’t leave the apartment.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble and stop in the middle of the sidewalk, an empty sidewalk around the corner from yet another restaurant. Jeno slows down ahead of you, a hand coming out of his blazer to rub the frown lines in his jaw. “I didn’t think everything would take this long.”

“Hey,” Jeno calls, stepping into your personal bubble, preventing you from looking away by cradling your cheeks, “Hey. It’s okay. We’ll find something.”

“No, it’s not okay,” you shake your head, tearily looking into his eyes. The night sky almost obscures them, but Jeno led you close to a building with motion sensor, external lights. “It’s ridiculous, honestly, and you keep comforting me, but I’m starting to feel like a bur –”

You are cut off by your own gasp when Jeno kisses you, effectively shutting you up, and you melt into his arms. He simply puckers his lips, kissing you as long as he inhales before breathing out, just enough to regulate your heartbeat. The whole world slows down around you, every sound muted except the gentle smacking of his lips. One of your feet pops, kicks up, and you lean into his touch, fully assuaged.

Jeno pulls away first, leading you over to an open hotteok stand without a line. He orders two for each of you and a large soda to share, paying quickly. The vendor compliments the two of you as a couple, but when you go to correct him, Jeno interrupts you again, a hand on your lower back, thanking the guy, and walks you down the street. Once you get to a bridge, streetlamps connected by strung lantern lights, he relaxes against the railing, using the warm pancake to heat up his hands. You look him over again, then glance at your attires; it seems weird – you both wearing nice date clothes but eating ₩10,000 snacks, sharing a soda instead of wine.

“What?”

“I just …” You turn the wrapper around in your hands, gaze falling to the chewy dough. “How are you so nonchalant about everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are w-we going to pretend that the stuff in the hotel room didn’t happen? Like I didn’t confess that I like you, more than platonically?”

Jeno sighs, casting his gaze to the floor. But, like, why? You are the one vulnerable right now. In the last 24-hours, you confessed, to liking him more than friends. You only ever came close three other times; three times in 12 years: at the beginning of high school, motivated by your friends to take control; at the end of high school, before graduation, when you thought that he would go to KAIST instead of Yonsei with you; in the middle of college, during volunteer work at a soup kitchen. And each time, you chickened out. You thought that maybe, after you entered the workforce, like a real adult, you would face the music, face these constantly lingering feelings, and maybe, this is it; this is the music, but something about him, about this, regresses you back to that teenage girl feeling: shy and insecure.

“I –” Jeno inhales, crumpling the hotteok wrapper into his pocket, then waddling over to you. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

You frown. He is not listening to you. Why else would you repeat the friendship-shattering phrase? You thought that this was it, that you could live with being his weekend mistake, but that involved getting a solid response from him, something tangible to let you know how he feels.

“I just … You don’t …” You lick your lips, gradually dropping your gaze to the floor, unable to face him with all this uncertainty. “I,” you emphasize, pointing your middle phalanges above your heart, “don’t know what you’re saying. Jen, I want some cl –”

For the second time tonight, he cuts you off with a simple kiss, long and chaste, holding you by the neck, as if the action exempts him from explaining himself. And maybe you are easy to sway, because you let him kiss you in the middle of a bridge overlooking the Busan city streets, convincing yourself that having him physically close is the same as having him emotionally close.

Jeno hopes that he won’t be like Jaehyun on his wedding day – absolutely insane. Well, he hopes that he won’t be like this on his wedding day, with you, oscillating between awkward silence and carrying out his childhood, assuming that he marries you. Granted, the wedding cake did melt, and another groomsman, the best man, Yuta, is running late (delayed flight from Japan), and Jaehyun did rip his tie, hence why Jeno, now, runs around the Park Hyatt Hotel, searching for any front desk attendant to point him toward a sewing kit at the very least. He should have brought his back up tie, a skinny black tie that he definitely does not know how to turn into a cravat, and he cannot ask you, not after last night when he evaded your question by sleeping with you.

Left. Right. Left again. Jeno looks around the empty, second-floor hallway, above the equally empty front desk, adjacent to the imperial staircase. Promptly, he shuts the door, inhaling and exhaling under the weird single lightbulb at the center of the ceiling, eyes shut, trying to imagine his happy place.

“Jeno?”

He sighs, shoulders dropping, face finally relaxing without the groom-zilla pacing and spiraling without “his soul mate” to calm him down, but Jeno cannot refute very much. Even in his dreams, you exist. And maybe he talks too little, or you talk too much; maybe he doesn’t say enough, or maybe you don’t say the proper words, but he could live in the in-between, in the that moment after you say something and right before he doesn’t. So, he sinks into your enveloping voice, engrossed by just the sound of his voice, no pressure behind it – pressure to answer your ‘I like you’ confession with his thousand-word ‘I love you’ confession; pressure to have the ‘what are we’ conversation; pressure to face your inevitable rejection that, although you feel something more than friendship for him, you don’t feel the same way. Except, Jeno doesn’t just feel the warmth from your words.

Your fingers slowly touch his tall shoulder, pads of your fingers dipping in harder to grab his attention. And he screams.

And you copy him.

It takes a moment for him to turn around, a hand over his heart, patting down his lapels. But when he does, when he finally looks at you, as if he were the groom this wedding, waiting for you, the bride, to surprise him at the end of the aisle, Jeno’s breath stops. He cannot discern whether it’s due to the shock value of being in close proximity to you again, in an intimate setting almost rivaling 7 minutes in heaven (though he can say that he’s had more than 7 minutes in heaven with you, outside a closet); or it’s because you look absolutely stunning, somehow making the lime green garden wedding theme work for you – Jaehyun practically shoved a floor-length dress in your arms the moment you both arrived, absolutely exhausted, half-filled coffees pressed against your foreheads, above your sunglasses blocking the sunlight, as if you two were hungover (you weren’t; neither of you have drank more than water this weekend so far), before he directed you to Mingyu’s “side of the hotel”, even though you are his cousin, and took Jeno to his side. And, when you initially asked him to be your wedding date, Jeno didn’t expect to stand with the wedding party, thought he would just have to sit in the audience, watching you stand at the altar in front of the wrong man (granted, your cousin and his groom), but Jaehyun gave him a matching green tie and the second groomsman spot.

“Ha-ha-hi. What, um, what are you doing in here?”

You, staring at the floor, feet squirming clickty clack in your heels, hold up a tiny sewing kit. “Stealing some supplies for Mingyu. He brough an extra cravat and wants me to sew in tie, as a precaution, in case something happens to the current one.”

Jeno lets out a small laugh, and you slowly look up at him.

“What?” you frown.

“Nothing,” he smiles at you. “Just … they’re really meant for each other. Jaehyun ripped his tie, and he sent me looking for a sewing kit to fix it.”

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head to the side. And Jeno coughs weakly into his hand, trying not to think about the way you kissed him, last night, head tilted again, eyes half-lidded, lips parted slightly. “What about Yuta?”

“Delayed.” Jeno jingles his watch into frame. “He should be arriving at Incheon in the next few minutes, but he won’t be here until, like, 20 minutes be-before the wedding,” Jeno trails off slowly at the end. The ceremony, the intimate short portion of the early afternoon, starts in two hours. Except, right now, the closet seems more intimate – perhaps 50 people will be accommodated later, the ballroom, and if he translates that into this space, about a tenth would be in attendance. And they probably would not like to witness him undress you with his eyes.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, stumbling your fingers onto his lapels. You feel the material once, under your thumb, then smooth out imaginary wrinkles. He has to wonder what you see that he doesn’t, but he says nothing about it, not wanting you to leave him. “Luckily, Jaehyun has you then, huh?” You press your palm into his jacket, just the one time, above his rapidly beating heart, then start dropping your hand.

But he catches you.

“I’m lucky,” he says, the words falling from the tip of his tongue, like breaking the dam, letting all the pent-up and unresolved feelings flood, “to have you.” Jeno subconsciously tugs you forward, by your hand, until you stand just a hair away, your dress breathing like a Lee Byung-Ho sculpture for SeMA’s Aging World installation a few years ago (he took you and spent the whole time scribbling your name next to the notes that he had to decipher later for his extra credit essay). He flickers his eyes across your face, waiting before he gets an approval. You stay still for the longest second in history, and he mirrors it, mirrors you. When you appear to move away, he also copies that. “Sorry. Sorry. I know we’re in a kind of uncomfortable spot, and I probably shouldn’t’ve –“

“Jeno?”

“… Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

You fist his jacket, ruining the lapels more obvious for him to see, making him stagger forward. He braces a hand on the bookcase storage behind you, pulling your lower back toward his pelvis to help you evade ramming your spine into the shelves, but he still falls, face first into yours, one strong arm keeping you close, the other hovering above your cheek, too scared that he might crush you with the impossible weight of his crush, his feelings. You try to comfort him – as you always do, like a rock – fluffing his hair. Then, your foot slips, stiletto heel snagging on a loose roll of toilet paper. And he catches you, of course, always, holding your waist so tightly that you might crack. You echo him, this time, grabbing, groping, gripping every surface that you possibly can. To stop himself from toppling you, he bunches your silk dress at your hip and shoves his strong leg between your thighs. He drags you up his knee once, twice, thrice, and you moan.

“Jeno,” you barely manage to breathe, after one kiss, lips tight. You go lax in his arms, fawning over his arm like a damsel in distress – head thrown back, hair starting to tangle at the roots, leg hooking onto his waist. He moves down to your neck, your collarbone, your chest; he slides down the spaghetti strap for easier access, peppering wet kisses onto your skin. “Oh, my God,” you moan, arms tightening around his neck, drawing him impossibly close and thrusting your half-exposed tits in his face. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Jeno kisses you harder, his tongue barely poking out, bottom lip dragging up. His inhales feel – and sound – heavy, trying to inhale everything about this moment.

“I want you,” he mumbles, nose brushing your cheek. He stops kissing you, open mouth panting into your ear. “But not like this. Not right here.”

“Jen,” you whine, sliding your hand under his jacket, clutching the back of his dress-shirt slightly untucked. “Please. I want you.”

“I – “ he gasps. “I –“

Then your phone rings.

I want you so bad, but not like this. I want to make love with you.

“He-hello?” you answer. You press your forehead to Jeno’s, and he takes the opportunity to analyze your face, the face he has memorized in his daydreams. Jeno twirls a loose, long strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “Yeah, I f-ff-found it.” He presses a singular kiss under your jaw, tongue hunting for a prominent vein. And when he finds it, he pushes, harder, sucking just light enough not to create an ostentatious mark. “Mmm,” you nearly moan wantonly, legs giving out, “I-I’ll br-bring it by right now. O-okay, yeah, bye.” You quickly hang up the phone, dropping it to the floor, and wrap your arms around Jeno’s neck, returning one kiss, the final kiss, long and chaste, everything spilling out. “I have to go,” you whisper, sliding down his thigh.

“Yeah,” he mumbles back, “Me too.”

During the wedding, you did this a lot.

Thankfully no one noticed, or you hoped that no one noticed – you and Jeno staring at each other, across the altar; you behind Jeonghan, Mingyu’s best man; him behind Yuta, Jaehyun’s best man. You wanted to pay attention to the grooms, and their lovely ceremony, but seeing Jeno, just a few people away, had you quixotically imagining him at the forefront of the room, surrounded by your own friends and family. Who would be his best man: Renjun, Jaemin, Haechan? Would you get married in his hometown, or maybe abroad? What would you wear – Leehwa, Vera Wang, custom Prada?

Everything faded in front of you, when he met your gaze, staring you down over Yuta’s shoulder, closest to the officiant. You thought that the venue’s organization had it out for you, putting you on a pedestal below Jaehyun, but as Jeno returned your acknowledgement, you realized that the venue was, really, protecting your feelings, because the moment you locked eyes, the entire weekend flashed through your memory – almost kisses, actual kisses, accidental touches. You had to suppress all those feelings, make sure none of it was written on your face, like they meant nothing, like you don’t know what his current suit looks like crumpled and on the floor of your hotel room, like he belongs closer to you. The cheers following Jaehyun and Mingyu’s ‘I do’s were the only thing to bring you out of your own head, to draw the details of reality again, as if you willed time itself to move into the reception so that you could have Jeno to yourself again, restoring the intimacy of this affair to the grooms.

Unfortunately, it took a bit longer to even breathe in Jeno’s direction.

Both the Jung and Kim families shuffled everyone down to the reception ballroom, where even more friends and family and colleagues waited. You had to go back upstairs, without Jeno, to change into your party dress – the silk purple one, a shorter material that matches the tie you bought him. And then, the tables separated you as well, sending Jeno to mingle with other singles and you with your distant cousins, through the first course as both grooms, together, made their rounds, greeting every guest and expressing their gratitude in low bows for coming to celebrate their union. You finally found an escape during the main dish, which forced everyone to pull food from a buffet table rather than be served the same appetizer.

“Hey,” you bump elbows in line with Jeno, stealing his attention from the galbi-jjim, a small smile fighting your cheeks. “I – I can’t believe we got separated there. Do you think I can sneak you back to my table?”

Jeno chuckles and places a rib on your plate, using the obnoxiously large tongs to fix a batonnet carrot atop the meat. “I hope so,” he answers honestly, nose crinkling as a sign of it. “You’d think that they would put us together, since I’m supposed to be your plus one.”

“But I guess not,” you finish for him. You look over your shoulder at your table – nearly empty, like the preceding pew taking communion, then whisper, like making a tryst between spies, “Meet me at my table when you’re done. You can take my aunt’s chair; she’s dreadfully boring.”

You finish plating the traditional food that Jaehyun picked out for the occasion (according to Mingyu) and return to your table (Table No. 3) ahead of Jeno, who stopped to wait for a restock of japchae right before the dessert platters. He is easy to please – and they do say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach – because after he plates his noodles, he looks over his shoulders and sneaks a bite, eyes prettily fluttering closed, lips puckered around the tips of his manicured nails, licking his fingers clean. You try not to laugh, biting it behind an inevitable smile. Jeno finds you, easily, as he always does, tilting his head in confusion, but you wave him off, gesturing for him to finally join you, make you feel at little less alone among the extended family branches.

“Here, take some of the japchae,” he says, already unveiling a nearby fork from the dark green napkin cloth and piling it next to your rice. “It tastes –” He kisses his fingers. “- chef’s kiss, amazing.”

“You two make a lovely couple,” your aunt interrupts – not the dreadfully boring one; a different aunt, a younger aunt, who, just two years ago, claimed that she wouldn’t be like the rest of the peanut gallery, gossiping and leaping to conclusions about everyone younger’s love lives. You and Jeno sink into your respective chairs, deliberately avoiding touching each other. She leans in, over your arm, almost daring Jeno with her excited Princess doe eyes. “Can we expect another wedding soon?” He coughs. And you drop your metal chopsticks. And your aunt leans back, shrugging as if she hadn’t dropped a bomb. “It shouldn’t be a surprise. I’m probably not the only one who is expecting it. You graduated college – what – 10? 13? months ago. Right now would be perfect for you to get married, while you’re still young.” She briefly points a spoon at Jaehyun and Mingyu, before chopping up her almon bowl. “They got married young, and now they’re going to honeymoon across Europe. I’m just saying –“ She shoves a bite of food in her mouth. “It’s better to get married young – you grow together; finances are easier to manage; your health is in good shape, etc. etc.”

Your other aunt, her wife, finally joins, too, and smacks her arm. “Are you bothering another couple about getting married?” She turns to you with sympathetic eyes. “Sorry, after we got married, four years ago,” she emphasizes more to her wife than you or Jeno, eyes slightly narrowed (although playfully) on the last syllable, “she has been obsessed with weddings.”

“Happens when you marry a wedding planner.” They kiss.

You turn away, shyly looking at Jeno, mouthing an apology.

Surprisingly, he leans into your ear, whispering. His initial breath, before he even says anything, sends shivers down your spine, and he grabs your arm, rubbing your naked forearm for warmth. Oh. He mistook it. “Just play along,” he instructs. You can feel a hair move from its place. “It’s easier to say that you don’t know when we’ll get married than to explain why we’re, um, you are not dating.”

“W-we don’t actually know when we’ll get married,” you answer, gradually building your voice to conversation decibel.

“See! I told you they were a couple! There is no way that they wouldn’t be. Look at them!”

You cautiously glance at Jeno, stopping at his matching purple tie (he must’ve changed when you changed; and lucky him, a simple tie is easier than an entire dress), because you do not want to be so obvious about your lie. The train conductor, the Uber driver, the hotelier … they all thought the same, but since then, the start of your trip, you discovered that he does want you to touch him, in all the ways that carry meaning (and then some). You just do not know to what extent. He never said anything, never explained anything, not that you are entitled to his feelings. And you tried to reason it all – maybe you say too much, not really letting him, or maybe he says too little, constantly shocked to silence by all the secrets you spill.

You open your mouth at the round table, but another aunt of yours comes by and pinches Jeno’s cheek, saying something about how handsome he is, the statement echoing far off in your ears. And thank God, honestly; you did not quite know what to respond, merely hoping that, if you simply opened your mouth, your Broca’s area would follow. It didn’t.

“Yes, yes, but as you mentioned, my lovely date does not have a drink, so we best fix that,” you hear Jeno express. You peek to your side, then up, seeing him having stood at some point in his conversation. He throws you a look, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, smile nearly rectangular, and nods toward the open bar. Oh! You stand up, too, albeit clumsily, knocking your thigh into the mahogany, the silverware and ceramics jostling; you give your aunts a hasty bow and apology before taking Jeno’s arm. “See,” he says to your other aunt, “We must be going. There is a long Island iced tea out there with my name on it.” They laugh together, then you let Jeno drag you away to the open bar, away from prying aunties.

“Long Island iced tea?” You quirk a single eyebrow. He refused to drink those ever since the 2020 trip to Germany when you, Jaemin, and Renjun got so fucked up on Long Island iced teas, consuming more and more, claiming that it just wasn’t hitting, until it did, that the four of you missed your nonrefundable trip back to Incheon.

Jeno rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I, uh, couldn’t think of a different drink.”

You flutter your eyes to the drinks menu, reading through the specialties until you find the Long Island iced tea … right above the Sweet Pink Punch, a fruity pink margarita that is definitely right up his alley, had he had a few drinks in his system already. You raise your eyebrow even further up.

“Okay! I wanted the pink drink,” he pouts. “Is that what you want me to say?” The bartender immediately pops one up on the counter for him, pointedly fluffing the pink little petals over the equally pink salted rim. Jeno groans. “So not what I wanted.”

“Here,” you laugh, flagging down the same bartender. “I’ll take a six blueberry kamikaze shots and a whiskey smash.” It is Jeno’s turn raise an eyebrow at you, and you laugh harder, lightly smacking him on the stomach. “Don’t look at me like that. We’re just gonna take a couple shots to take the edge off this whole party, –” A bit of liquid luck, if you were being completely transparent. “– then, we’ll make a few rounds and leave early. The key is – thank you –“ You pass him half the shots and put your drinks close together, making it ambiguous which belongs to whom. “– The key is to make a strong impression, and since we were at the altar today, I think we’ve got a free pass, but, just to be safe, –” You down a shot. “– we’ll take a few more photos, schmooze Mingyu’s cousins, note a talking point for later, then –“ You click your tongue. “– we’ll bounce.” You down another shot. Just one little glass remains, filled on your side of the bar, while your date has yet to even touch the table, so you look up at him. Jeno has an arm folded under his chest, opposite fingers dragging his bottom lip down, intermittently padding inside his mouth. And you swallow, throat suddenly dry with only liquid courage to drink. “Is … Is that okay?”

“Huh?” He drops his hand, and your eye follows, mouth drawing a continuous blank. “Oh, yeah,” he answers. “But, um, we don’t have to leave right away. It’s your cousin’s wedding; it might be fun to hang around with everyone for a bit.”

Jeno doesn’t know why he said that – We don’t have to leave right away, and it might be fun to hang around for a bit. Those few rounds you talked about (not the shots ☹) turned into hours, even more after you offered to stay while everyone else left, to help clean the reception hall. Jeno stood up, also, to start piling dishes into bus tubs, but you, and the others helping, only gave him easy-to-complete tasks or shooing him away. He eventually just sat down, sporadically drinking a bottle of soju, watching you laugh with your aunt and Mingyu, now your cousin-in-law, over something he couldn’t hear from so far away.

And when Jaehyun approaches, Jeno misses him, too caught up in the way your eyes almost physically light up at Mingyu’s umpteenth gawky faux pas of the night.

“How long?”

Jeno jumps, straightens his back. He relaxes after seeing Jaehyun, who looks far calmer than a couple hours ago. Maybe marriage suits him, brings out the vulnerability that no one really sees unless they get a few drinks in him. Jeno wonders if marriage would change him. Would he be more conscientious? Introverted (if that were even possible)? Would he have the same level of self-control? Or would his sex life get worse? And what if he didn’t marry you? He wants everything that marriage entails, even the compromises he might not be able to think about right now, but he isn’t sure that he would want it if it wasn’t with you.

“I …”

“How long have you been in love?” Jaehyun repeats, a knowing look quirked into his smile.

Jeno inhales, once, twice. He opens his mouth. Then, he puts down his bottle. “Forever,” he answers quietly, “maybe.” He winces. That sounds wrong, so he corrects himself, “Probably. Your cousin …” he starts, not saying your name, because if he does, he might accidentally confess something that he wants only you to hear.

Jaehyun chuckles, possibly more intoxicated than Jeno. It feels like that time in high school (Jeno cringes at how often he’s thought about his teenage years, like someone stuck in the past, but he cannot help that he has spent half his life with you) – that time in high school, near the end, when you invited him to his first college party, Jaehyun’s college party. So many things happened, so many firsts happened: his first beer, his first time losing his wallet (it was in the garage refrigerator), his first hickey; he emerged from a random bedroom, tugging up the collar of his shirt, and accidentally bumped into Jaehyun who was coming out of the bathroom from a different – but similar – experience.

“Dramatic,” Jaehyun comments. And Jeno whips his head to look at the groom, but he finds him looking at Mingyu. Jeno turns, too, but his eyes find you instead, instantly forgetting about the wedding party, until Jaehyun starts talking again. “Though, understandable.” Jaehyun spins his chair to Jeno, crouching a little closer, like he is about to reveal a secret. “You know, I almost asked you to give a wedding speech too.”

“Me?” Jeno points to himself. Jaehyun nods, re-affirming. “Why?”

Jaehyun shrugs, leaning back. He takes Jeno’s soju. “Because you give good speeches.” He tilts his bottle to Mingyu and you dancing and singing (Mingyu off-beat; you off-key). “My husband –” He smiles (that annoying and sickening lovey-dovey smile … that Jeno can’t help but want too). “– thought it might make you confess.”

“What?!”

Jaehyun shrugs again. Then, a beat passes, and Jeno opens his mouth, but Jaehyun gets up to join you and Mingyu; you pulling him up by an imaginary lasso. He hands back the soju, shimmying toward his husband. Another jealous pang bubbles in Jeno’s chest, and, yeah, he may not be the best person to let give a speech, or he might be the best. Sure, he wants that – to be called someone’s (your) husband and dance the night away with them (you); and yeah, he thinks about what it means to be in love, or what love itself means, and he comes to the same conclusion, every time. He comes to the same conclusion as you gesture for him to join the mini-after party, starting up an old SHINEE song on your iPhone that everyone knows.

More muzak fills the silence, albeit awkwardly now, through the first floor of the hotel. Jeno holds the sensor open, allowing you to enter first and push the Floor F button. He takes a place next to you, leaning on the cold wall, flushed face finally starting to mellow. You stare at the red numbers increasing on the monitor above the door, adjusting the hem of your purple cocktail dress lower than his tuxedo jacket hanging off your shoulders, rubbing your thighs together at your knees. The reception lasted longer than you anticipated; weddings, especially those so deep in Busan, tend not to exceed two hours, but you stayed passed 7 PM, since 11 AM, helping around where you could. And maybe it started out as a way to avoid Jeno, after the previous night, then all the discomfort and embarrassment faded, once you got a kiss and liquid courage. It seems to have faded by now though.

“Beautiful, um, beautiful ceremony,” Jeno mumbles, scratching the back of his neck and biting back a smile.

"Yeah,” you agree, breaking into a nervous smile. You fumble with the silver cufflinks, the memory of the last time you were confined to a small space with him – the closet at the Park Hyatt Hotel – at the forefront of your brain, and you wonder if his breath would be warm, or warmer, on your neck now. A glimpse of Jeno crawls into the corner of your eye, so you look him up and down. He doesn’t appear tired, rather lost in thought, like you, lips sucked in as if preventing another secret from falling out (or maybe he has to throw up). It becomes harder to ignore the weekend tension, the unsaid confessions, the sex. “Jeno, I lo –”

“So –”

Silence pulses, and the elevator goes up a floor.

You both close your mouths again. Perhaps you should have taken the stairs; the huffing and puffing would help you break the quietude. Beautiful ceremony was the first thing he said to you since getting into the Uber from the reception hall. And before that, he only made small talk, interrupting you if he even sensed a deeper conversation. It was frustrating, but you also understood. You kept bringing it up at inopportune times. Either the next task (eg, the wedding, the not-your wedding) or the atmosphere (eg, too many people) prevented you from really talking it out.

“Oh, you go first.”

“No, you were talking first. You go.”

You inhale. “Jeno, I lo –”

Ding. You have arrived at Floor F.

There it is again.

Jeno shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, gesturing for you to leave ahead of him. “We can talk about this in our room.”

Our room. Funny enough, since you two moved into the new gender-neutral dorms, at the beginning of college, people assumed that you were roommates (oh, my God, they were roommates) and were quite shocked upon finding out that Jeno chose to stay with Jaemin and you with an upperclassman, Yoohyeon, who had the same major as you but was in her last year. And similarly, to this hotel, your room – our room – is in the middle of the Fth Floor. Yay, more awkward silence to tread through. :|

You fall into routine with Jeno, as you step foot in your hotel: he takes your his jacket from your shoulders, hanging it in the closet by the door, and you saunter towards the closest bed, eyes trained on the ground as if an officer asked you to for a walk and turn test. You kick your shoes off by the heels, nearly moaning when the straps release your feet, and rub the bottom before a blister appears. Jeno, equally shoeless, joins you, sits beside you, his thighs parted widely on the space you give him.

“Jeno, I lo –” you start. But he leans over, caressing your cheek, and kisses you, slow yet passionate. His thumb rubs long, comforting lines above your jaw, helping you to relax further and you accept, holding onto his arm for stability. You add another hand, behind your back, supporting yourself as he guides you down on the neatly pleated duvet. He almost tries to say something through the embrace, his tongue clicking a syllable or two above your teeth. “Are – are we doing this again?”

Jeno pecks your lips and rests his warm, exposed forehead against yours. “As much as you want to.” He kisses you again, falling alongside you on the open bed, turning you from the edge. “I,” he pants, eyes closed, chest rising. You brush away his hair, pushing back all the strands you can bunch, stealing the moment to selfishly admire him without the weight of ruining an already intimate affair with your affair. “I – I can’t do a onetime thing with you.”

“Me neither.”

Jeno opens his eyes, instantly analyzing your face. “What does that mean?”

“It –” You peck his lips again, rolling him under your body, straddling his waist. “– means that this feels good.” You grab him by the collar, a button falling undone. He immediately finds your waist, just like the train ride, hands belting through your short dress, dragging the silky material up your thighs. You can feel his shirt scratch into your skin as you both find the most ideal spot. He winds up further on the bed, arms mingling with the sheets, and you slide down his hips, slipping to his dick, teetering on your knees, preemptively riding him. “Do-do you like it?��

His body freezes, and you fear that you did something wrong, touched something wrong, said something wrong, but then, Jeno shimmies his hips, sliding down his trousers. You feel his cotton Calvin Kleins touch your own cotton panties; your pussy practically activated by the twitch of his cock. He taps high under your thigh, drumming hard enough to jiggle your ass, almost contemplatively.

“I … like it,” he decides to say, but his easy-to-read face frowns and he opens his mouth again, “I … I love it.” He bites his lip. “I love … I love you. So much.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Jeno gazes into your eyes, and you try your best to reciprocate, because you do reciprocate everything: the looks, the feelings, the love. Slowly, he sits up, rolling his spine toward you. When he gets in your face, millimeters away, he tucks your hair behind your ear again. You trap his hand there, clamping it between your cheek and shoulder, leaning into him. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” he whispers, but you both know that your relationship would not survive the depth of either one of your feelings, not after all these years.

“I love you, too, Lee Jeno,” you answer, kissing him before he can say anything else.

He slithers his fingers under the sides of your underwear, twisting them up, his face pliantly moving in your hands. You grind through your panties, and after a moment, you find his dick, grazing just the tip through your ass, all the way to your clit.

“Shit,” he moans. His hands readjust on your waist, gripping tighter, making you moan. “Are we doing this again?” You nod your head, holding him still and diving a bit lower. Your thighs adapt to the new curve in your back as you sloppily kiss his neck, tongue exploring his clavicle. “Then, sit on my face.”

Jeno helps your legs around his face, licking the wetness up your knees. His constant eye contact tells you to watch him, and you have to fight the urge to completely melt on his washboard abs. Jeno pulls the crotch of your panties to the side, a finger hooked around the black lacy material you once mentioned, that you looked forward to wearing after he ripped the other pair. You nearly lodge a complaint at the silence and the emptiness, but then, he moves. He flips you over, simultaneously tearing away your underwear, clawing your ass to ride his face; his chin lifting, abrading just under your clit. Your forehead falls to his groin, nails scratching into his bare legs – smooth and muscular. He starts peppering tiny kisses all over your vulva, tongue probing the further you soak his face. As a distraction, you unbutton his shirt, from the bottom up, fisting the hem, dragging up his torso. You walk backward, on your knees, punching holes into the mattress, exposing his abdomen. Experimentally, you lick a stripe through his well-defined abs. His knee kicks up. You do it again.

“Princess,” he whines, forehead resting on your inner thigh. “I won’t be able to control myself if you touch me like that.”

“I’m barely doing anything,” you mumble, crawling to his leaky cock again. Jeno, vindictively, adds a finger, and another, and another. He licks your pussy, swirling his tongue near your rim, then jumping back to your cunt, joining his three fingers. You fall forward, groaning, and take his cock, clothed, in your hand, drawing his tip along the lines of your lips, suckling the head.

“Fuck.” His head hits the mattress. It makes you feel attractive, sexy, to turn him on like this, and you love it.

“God, I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you,” Jeno returns. He almost nips your skin, lips barely covering his teeth in time. “So much,” he breathes, almost awed.

“Jeno, I’m gonna cum.”

“Wait!” He pulls his face off. “I want to see you.”

Romantic. And you guess it’s the season, that heightens, if not adds, to the sentiment. So, you contribute, trying to give him everything and more – that is what you have been doing all weekend with the train ride and the food and the hotel and the clothes, giving him your whole self.

You scramble off his chest, turning around, to face him. He flickers from your eyes to your hair and combs the staticky baby hairs back down. And you like to think that you’ve gotten to know him more, the last couple of days, think that you’ve gotten more accustomed to the little gestures, the tender indicators which show you something lasting. You lean down again, slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He rolls you under him, trapped by his strong biceps, humping his dick between your legs, not allowing you a single moment of refractor. With his lips sewn into yours, he extracts his cock, lubricating it with your vaginal spit, teasing your hole. You swivel your hips, trying to push him inside. And just you think he might taunt you further, your orgasm hanging by a thread, he presses forward, centimeter by centimeter.

“Fuck,” you both groan, heads thrown back. A beat pulses, letting you, and him adjust to the size, the tightness (even though you spent 24-hours practically attached to his pelvis, skin sticking in this same way).

“Okay,” you exhale, “Okay. Move, please.” But Jeno keeps his head glued on your shoulder, breath shaky, chopped by tiny whimpers. You groan his name, elongating it when your voice chokes on a sob, feeling his thick cock throb inside you, raw and bare. “Jeno, please, I wan – I need to cum.”

Without looking at you, Jeno pulls back his hips, thrusting shallowly, his tip flopping around your cervix, searching for your sweet spot. And he knows when he finds – you know that he knows he found it – because your face contorts, eyes twisting shut, body relying on his touch to see. At some point, he meets you in the middle, greedily rolling his torso on top of you, roughly dragging you through the bed sheets. Jeno kisses you again, the same tender passion rising but more fervent, like he needs to chase the moment, like he missed out on chasing you all these years. So, you slow down, gasping into his mouth, showing him that you are here, with him, for him, forever, if he wants. And you let out a strangled cry, repeating his name like a mantra, hooking your arms under his shoulders:

“Jeno, Jeno, Jeno, Jeno, Jeno.”

He starts fucking you faster, increasing his pace as his name disappears into a series of blurry sobs on your tongue; he smashes his lips on yours, slamming his hips hard – hard even for him, judging by his own low-pitched whines. Your dress chokes your waist, the straps having slid down your arms, off your wrists, and your boobs spring free, somewhat free, since he holds you so close. You pull him in, nails clawing his back, flexing your legs away to give him the freest access to your cunt. He finds some stability in your clit, pushing the pulsing nub into his thrusting cock.

“Tell me you’re going to cum.”

“I’m so close. Please, please, please.”

Jeno pinches your clit. Your back drives off the mattress, trailing his abs, grinding every inch of skin that you possibly can, both of your outfits doing little to obstruct the tension, only adding strenuous friction. His hand punches the mattress, to avoid losing balance, and gives him more leverage to move faster, if that were even possible. In, out, in, out, yank, pull, prod, in, out. You babble more nonsense, brain barely processing quick I love yous and his name, before an earthquake shatters your sympathetic nervous system, breaking down the walls that blocked your orgasm. Your body trembles, rolling upward, accidentally meeting his thrusts, and your pussy spasms, coaxing out weepy hiccups from Jeno. You push two fingers between your bodies, around the base of his cock, helping his orgasm. And you feel the first ribbon of cum shoot deep in your cervix, his shoulders shuddering, but he keeps going, jamming his cum far up your cunt.

You lay there, curling around his arm, taking his cum while he planks above you, watching your spasms lessen. Jeno moves first, removing your clothes and situating the two of you by the pillows. He pulls you into his chest, shimmying your dress off your legs and his shirt off his shoulders. You let yourself close your eyes, melting into his arms, into the weekend, into finally getting the love of your life. And maybe minutes, or an hour, passes, not that you’re counting, because you’ll have him as long as he will have you. And you think he feels the same, know he feels the same when he whispers a phrase that only people who want to be together for a long time say:

“So, when are we getting married?”

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