Min-su ( @blaceyes ) : [ hotel ] our muses have sex in a hotel + Se-mi.
Ahead of him as you enter, Lightly biting lip to a smile, The room was nice, not too big or too small, but perfectly balanced with the stillness of the city at night applying to the mood of the dim lighting. a hotel room? not even one bit of thought of going to one ever crossed your thought, really affording it was out the window, So the gesture was . . . new territory, a grand one that you couldn’t react to but a surprise, (A good one of course) —already pulling him in and wrapping arms around his neck with a more excited smile, “ You really went all out.” couldn’t help but close the gap with a quiet urgency, truly alone in a space to freely enjoy their time, cherish every second of this space that he clearly had put effort to affording.
It doesn’t last too long till you pull him for a kiss, always the one making the first move, But this time it was slow and deeply passionate, A thank you without saying it translated in the kiss, as digits naturally ran through the back of his hair, and walking back as if you already knew how close the bed was. breaking just in the slightest second to catch a breath followed by a smile and brushing nose against his that soon enough followed with more passes of kisses. Not restraining from pulling him to lead once you felt the back of your legs reach the bed. Her hands now travelling to grip his shirt to pull him down you while you laid to the freshly made bed, —as if welcoming you both— and letting him press on top of you,
“You don’t have to wait on me okay” faint tremor in breath as you mumble between deepened kisses. felt like a plead and also approved any kind of permission for him, Charged with urgency to be the one to lead but wanting to almost welcome him to spoil you, letting his gesture of this hotel room as an extension to surrender to anything he wanted to do, and as sure of the excitement you felt rushing through your body right now, “I mean it.” barely a whisper
The thing he feared most about the gesture was that she’d find it stupid, perhaps the kind of romance they just weren’t suited for. Se-mi is foreign terrain, and sheer thought of it all terrifies him. He is no fairy tale prince. He knows this, he knows this well, too-well; it is difficult to envision himself as anything beyond a stain or a pebble or the creeping wave of anxiety manifested into human form. Se-mi sees good in him, a good that Min-su will never comprehend. God forbid he oversteps, makes baseless assumption about the depth of their relationship that renders her uncomfortable. It’s… maybe it’s bad, but he feels terrified to touch her in the first place. Perpetual inkling that he will do something wrong, desecrate her with the intensity of his ardor. Maybe the entirety of his wrongness stems from obsequious gesture / you are a fool, Min-su / you have saved your money and blown it all on a gesture you can hardly will yourself to follow through on. Wanting her too much and suffering the consequences. What an idiot, that Min-su is.
❛❛ Do you like it? ❜❜ Head picks up, finally talking a good look at the room for himself amidst the quiet echo of mouse-voice; nervous wreck embodiment amidst the booking process, hardly able to keep his eyes on the screen through entering his card information. Damn shameful to want her so much, and maybe that was a problem, too. He has elevated Se-mi far too high onto aureate pedestal, mutated her inhuman with intensity of his idolatry. It’s nice, the room is, and he is at least comforted by that knowledge. The money was well spent. The bed looks pristine (it should, shouldn’t it? Fuck, is he overthinking this? What gave it away? He wants to rip his fucking skin off), everything looks pristine. Still, he struggles with the understanding that this is really happening. Her smile makes it all worth it.
Then she’s kissing him, and his process of respiration becomes voluntary: eyes widen first before forcing shut, trying to kiss her back in the best way he knows how. Approximation and replication of what he’s seen played out in pixels on-screen, blue-light tint from his laptop screen shone onto blank mien at the latest hours past a shitty shift at work. This is so much fucking better. A dream come true for every pitiful specimen he resembles. Se-mi can do so much fucking better. Her fingers in his hair, then, a nuzzle of noses met at the tips, affection injected into every action and every touch. Never in his life has he been loved like this, he’s already decided. Then she goes down, and he is dragged along with her, and it really radiates the same frequency of shitty, illicit porno vids.
❛❛ I just… ❜❜ So many fucking things. Too many fucking things, really. Whirlwind of thoughts compete for equal space in his competency, some resembling bad-faith actors desperate to sabotage this miracle of an opportunity. Fight for her, Min-su. ❛❛ I don’t want to do it wrong. Anything, I mean. I really like you, Se-mi. ❜❜ Mouth overloaded by saliva forces a pause in his rambling. He swallows, tilting his head down, scrappy fringe falling in his eyes as he looks down to her. ❛❛ I don’t want to ruin anything. ❜❜ Fork in an outlet, or fucking something to quell this apprehension. Have a habit of ruining everything ⸻ every catastrophe’s itinerary seems to bear the imprint of his face.












