asteredois
“you’ve been watching me.” comes her voice, flat and steady. a perfectly reasonable way to open the floor for conversation, she assumes. and just for effect, she musters the best imitation of a dramatic lead from various kinds of media she’s dissected for research purposes. “do you like what you see?”
to desire is simple. to be sated is simpler. it doesn't take much for men to be pleased—an indisputable truth since time immemorial. take the first guy and his cave, the thousandth and his tent, and the billionth and his getaway luxury camper; the common, unifying factor being the unwavering presence of flame.
eunho should be no different: throat warmed from the gulp of booze, face lit alive as he stands fireside. small creature comforts that should be more than enough.
except he's wired with the worst, ill-timed impulses. content until he isn't, at ease until ease slips out right under his feet.
all because of those damn cartier earrings.
a turn of the girl's head, and they swing delicately, the line of diamonds strung together by a thin braid of silver. inebriation is five drinks ahead, better senses still intact. he looks away quick enough. or so he thinks.
the shadow in his periphery is new, the voice newer. he stiffens at the sudden proximity, moving back where she moves forward.
surely, she doesn't know. surely, she couldn't tell—
do you like what you see?
a beat follows where he lags in trepidation, caught between do and don't. "…i'm—sorry?"















