Jongsuk couldn’t say that he knew her well,-- they had coffee a few times but never without the excuse of another third-party joining them. It was never intimate in the ways that really mattered; never close, not like tonight, never with his palms skating along the expanse of her thighs like in that moment. Her lips were unexpectedly soft and pliant against his own. Her perfume seemed sweet like honey, floral and very much everything he had expected,  and it clung to her like a second skin. Then there was the taste of alcohol on her tongue, with the dark bourbon of his freshly smoked cigarettes that muddied the experience, dirtied the floor with it’s ashes, and singed their friends’ sink in his carelessness. “You ever been to a party? Let’s just say it’s a bad place for a hookup,--” if they could call whatever this was, a hookup that is. He paused, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind her, lipstick smudged across his bottom lip, smearing his skin a light pink when he rubbed it away with the heel of his palm and allowed the cigarette he places between them to burn down further on a much needed inhale.