let me look at you

His mouth. That was it. Why she would lose everytime against him. His mouth, his words, his teeth, his tongues, his kisses. His mouth seemed to have new weapons everytime it touched her skin. Tiny nuclear bomb creating earthquakes on her epiderm, making volcanoes erupting under her skin, tsunamis in the center of her body. He was a natural disaster and she wanted to be destroyed again.

Her plan, honestly, wasn’t so much to get her coffee. She wanted for once to win. She wanted him to beg for her. She wanted him to want her as badly as she wanted him, more than his pride or stubborness. But she always failed. Because she was greedy in sex. Because he gave and she took. That was their relationship. Him, generous under his cold mask and her slaughtering under her pain.

Nevertheless, it was necessary for her to notice his playful mind. Myungsoo could make the lightest moment suddenly full of heavy hesitation and doubts. And on rare occasion, he kept moments easy to leave. Having her rear slapped startled her more for the playfulness of the gesture than the actual slap. His smile was, at this moment everything she needed. If the bite had made her crave for his hands on her skin, his flaming pride, along with irritating her, urged her to take his erection on her hands and watch him undo before her eyes. « Alright, then. » She repeated to herself.

She joined him in the kitchen and easily stole the cup of coffee from his hands. She sat on the counter and sipped from it, lookingat him above the rim fo the item. She could nearly see his mind functioning, trying to guess what she was about to do. She winced. « Wow, you made it… Strong. » She noticed, tilting her head. She settled the cup back into his hands and watched him, sliently. She felt like a wild animal, seizing the other before attacking. She was hungry.

She slided down the counter, the sheet around her uknotted but she didn’t care. Even if he hadn’t taken pictures of her body, she knew his mind would have memorized it perfectly. She leaned against his body. Her mouth reached his collarbone and she kissed it. A hand pushing his head towards hers she kissed his chin, but never his lips. Her other hand slipped easily to the sheet and lifted it up. She shaved him gently against the wall behind him and kneeled down. She disappeared under the sheet and faced his shaft. She chuckled lightly, feeling comfortable away from his eyes, protected by the simple white material.

She settled one of her hands onto his thigh hile the other drew random lines on the inner thigh. « Keep that cup ready, Myungsoo. I’ll take it afterwards. » She spoke loudly enough to be heard but before to let him a chance to reply, she took the as much of his length in her mouth, her right hand taking care of what she couldn’t reached. No teasing. No foreplay.

For the simple reason that he had forgotten something. Now, she was already satisfied, she had time on her side. Chaerin couldn’t bluff, she could only take all-in.

He watched her with unguarded curiosity, although he was sure, certain even that whatever she was up to. Liking it would not be option, it would happen, his skin would flare up and his eyes would crinkle at the side and if not a smile, then the sheer bliss of having her mischief all focused on him, one of those two would happen. Or maybe both.

He let her do as she pleased, not unhappy with his cup being taken away from his grip, nor happy at having it back. Saw the glint in her eyes before she even knew what she was going to do, not knowing what the action would be, but knowing something would unfold. Because she underestimated his mind and how much he could tell from just her tone if she thought this would be a surprise.

But the sheets untangling itself from around her frame was a good distraction to keep him from guessing, not that he wanted to guess, truly. He loved the surprises only she could bring onto him without any warning. The same way she slid in his life and took apart every single well placed thing that was in it. Filling it only with her presence, Chaerin, Chaerin, Chaerin and nothing else that quite mattered.

Nothing but her tanned skin revealed to his eyes whenever he wished to, whenever she wanted to. The better it was when she wanted to. When she knew it was bare to his eyes and she still held herself up high as if she wanted him to feast upon the sight of her body. For him. Him only and no one would dare to ever deny that fact. Whoever the man who thought it wiser to leave this woman behind was, he was the stupidest man alive and his absence of her life, her world, was more than welcomed for Myungsoo.

It was a truth he always found himself almost blurting out to her. One day, maybe when he would want to see if her reaction would change. From the first time he ever mentioned him, to now. How would she react? Those thoughts, they kept him away from the intentions he knew she had and thus the surprise, truly became one. 

It was only when he heard her voice, although how did he miss her sliding down and kneeling in front of him before disappearing under the sheets wrapped tight still around his waist he could not understand, still it happened. Thoughts of her always kept him away from what was currently occuring. It happened. 

But not when she was the one ot bring him back to earth, no longer would his mind wander. Not wanting to break this, her breath warm against his cock and his fingers almost letting go of the cup of coffee. The light tremble of them making him let out a soft laugh because she’d just warned him of that. He found himself leaning against the wall and getting both of his hands around the cup of coffee. Which was not where he wanted his hands and fingers, not at all. not while knowing that her blonde hair would be falling against his thighs and that he could tangle his fingers in their soft strands and not guide. Nor lead. But just simply follow the movement of her head once she took him in and started moving. 

A rhythm that he knew she knew how to keep up to bring him closer faster than anyone else could and ever did. Because he wasn’t the only one who’d learned how her body work, no, she’d also taken her time in discovering every single available space on his body and he’d died under the heightened pleasure each adventure would bring with her exploration.

It made it hard to breath each times, never failed, made it hard to keep still but it also made him laugh even more. Shaky though, barely breathing out the sound of a laughter before it died in a low keening sound. Had he had any supernatural strength, the cup would have been shattered ages ago and he wouldn’t have felt himself close from just a few strokes and the warmth of her mouth.

But who could blame him? He’d watched her writhe under his touch, watched her reach her orgasm, captured her body and now with his eyelids closing, all he could see and hear was her voice and her face as she neared that end, both never failed to bring him to his own end. It wasn’t fair, not at all. But he never was against a bit of injustice if it always burned his skin and flesh to such an extent that his tongue would dry and his voice would only rise to call out her name. A warning was something he should have given her, but he had no strength and wanted her to have a taste of her own surprise. Given that she’d stripped him of his need to always have his hands and eyes on her, she could take this as a little payback. Surely. 

It was everything. His hands on her, his lips tasting her skin, his teeth sinking in her flesh, his throbbing erection against her oversensitive intimacy, his voice falling asleep in her ears. It was everything and at the same it was nothing. She was blissful and absolutely upset to be refused.

She angrily took a taste of his flesh with her own mouth on his neck, the moves of her hips becoming more urgent, more demanding. Her unability to stop, to insist to get what she wanted, him inside, made her insane. It could be so easy to just take his awaiting shaft and slided it in, relieving the both of them but he denied her and she wouldn’t beg. She refused to.

She kissed her way up to his ear and settled her lips against his temple and then his cheek, slowing just for a moment her hips. «Alright then.» She panted, all over his face, her moves quickening once again, looking for more touching, more contact. If he wanted her to climax, she wasn’t one to deny her own pleasure. He was pushing her to selfishness and she would take it all. She would take it all and leave him with nothing.

She took one of his hands and made him reach for her breast. She never wondered too much why his hands were fitting perfectly her chest but she only enjoyed the irresistible feeling of belonging somewhere after lost for so long.

The heat rising in all of her body, the fire starting between her legs, she felt like losing her mind. She soon didn’t know where she was putting her hands, she was just grabbing something, sinking her nails into it. All that mattered was how close she was, how close to take it all. It was an all-in she was going to lose because she couldn’t bluff.

The first wave of orgasm caught her breathe, she couldn’t even let out the single quietest sound. Her hips’ moves became shallow and messy, trying to make the pleasure last. And then the second wave which ripped a small cry out of her mouth, a failed attempt to call for him. The orgasm, fading away slowly, wasted all of her energy. Her legs and arms were trembling, sweat rolling down her body, and breathes uneven and gasping.

Then she was taking it in and he was grateful she did it before his own resolution broke. It was close. So close that he felt his cock throb against her thigh where it was nestled still. But he focused more on her letting go then. His eyes intent on capturing every second of it as it happened, both of his hands busying themselves with making sure she reached it without any ounce of hesitation or even a thought of hesitation.

But he knew that about her. When her mind was set on it, there was no turning back. Thus the image she gave away once it hit her, once he felt it. The little nub hardening against his finger, his other hand squeezing the breast he’d been holding onto. At first, it’d been bothering him that with time he stopped wishing to have his camera with him everywhere so he could capture everything she was giving him. But he’d learned that his mind, his own memory loved capturing it more than his eyes behind the lens.

There were some things that were just worth more when they weren’t taken but memorised. Like her breathless orgasm that hit her, what it drew on her face, what it made him ache for. A fondness that spread all the way down to the hand he still had against her folds. Just rubbing her softly as she came down and that was it. It was over too soon for Myungsoo’s taste.

He wanted more. Made to voice that complaint. But she pressed him down in the mattress and the words were lost against her mouth, her lips soft against his own taking away any voice he had for a quiet moment. A moment too shirt again and she was off the bed, off him—the warmth gone and he regretted immediately. Not having given her what he wanted to give her not that.

Not the fact that he hadn’t reached his high, not that. He regretted how everything was over, and how she was just already up and before it made him tail her, wrapping the sheets they’d stained and would keep doing so until they were sated around his hips and following behind to where she was heading. But at the same time leading her, he wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee.

Especially with the hard on he currently had and that he somehow now was regretting a little, the thought of actually taking care of it himself came to him. But he brought a hand to her waist, then another and encircled her with his arms, sliding them all the way so that she was caught and brought back against his back. His mouth capturing the skin of her neck.

But no, he wouldn’t. Not today. He had other plans for today.

It wasn’t really for herself she wished to move on. These kind of days only happened once per month. The day when she would join his mother for diner. Since he was gone, the two women of his life never had missed one single diner together. For his mother, she was her last hand holding his. Her last way to reach for him. Because after her, he faded to nothingness. Nothing palpable, nothing real.

Chaerin, nevertheless, couldn’t define the reason she was forcing herself into this monthly torture. She would like to think it was only for his mother, she was putting herself into such a painful situation. But there was something else. A bitter hope and shame at watching a mother losing her son getting better month after month when she was sinking deeper and deeper. A sort of drama she couldn’t quite push away, stiring the last bits of life in her.

So she had gotten up, obeyed her morning ritual, she even had tied her hair in a high ponytail as she remembered how he liked it, and had gone to work.

Work was always the same thing. If she had someone to tell how was your day, she would have had nothing to say, because days were looking all the same to her and she would confuse them. But she had no one to return to, so it didn’t matter. Taking orders, preparing them, serving them, collecting the money, cleaning the table, putting apart the tips. Repeat. Taking orders, preparing them, serving them, collecting the money, cleaning the table, putting apart the tips. Repeat. Taking orders, preparing them, serving them, collecting the money, cleaning the table, putting apart the tips. Repeat. Customers’ faces long ago stopped to get printed in her mind. All the same, no need to bother.

That would explain her reaction when she noticed him. The memories robber. She had walked to his table without even thinking it would happen, Seoul was such a big city. She was walking towards the table like she would walk towards a table full of young customers. She had taken their order like she would have taken orders of any table.

And then it happened. The reason she had had all these dreams about him for the last three weeks. The reason she woke up feeling like she had betrayed him in some filthy and unsaid way. The reason the memories of an ancient happiness was breaking up the surface of her comfort despair. The reason had two eyes and a voice and a bunch of friends, loud friends, laughing friends. The reason had a cute little girlfriend taking its order. The reason was human and all her efforts to think he wasn’t real, never had been, crumbled down.

She hadn’t really thought about him. He had crossed her mind a couple of times, when she was wondering why she was having so vivid dreams. But he never lasted. He escaped her mind like a dream did at the awakening, leaving behind his memory a taste of wind and sorrow. It hadn’t been hard to lure herself into thinking he wasn’t real.

It happened, their eyes crossed and she felt her heart freeze. She took a step backwards at his sneer and looked around. She felt trapped, like she had felt the first and only time they met. She felt angry also. How did he dare finding her here ? How did he dare existing where nothing should have ?

"And he will take the same thing." The pretty girl at his side ponctued, closing the menu. But she kept staring at him a long and uncomfortable moment. Soon the group of friends had shut down the conversations and was curiously looking at her and then at him. She took another step backwards. Two hands wrapped around her arms and she dropped her pencil with her tiny notebook. "Chaerin, are you okay ?"

That was normal. Her brain was screaming for her to get back to reality, to find things she was used to deal with. The hands of her boss, his worried voice, his strong scent. That was normal. She nodded and gathered her things, and without a word she turned her heels and walked away, an annoying sensation of dejà-vu tugging at her guts. And even then, she could feel his eyes on her and she hurried her pace.

Don’t think. She grabbed the bottles she needed. Don’t think. The glasses. Don’t think. She poured the alcohol according to the order. Don’t think. Her hands were shaking. Don’t think. “Chaerin, are you okay ?” She nodded again and tried to carry the tray but her body was shaking too hard and she almost dropped everything. Why ? Why do I feel like this ? ”Can you take care of the order ? Please.” She begged her boss. He hesitated. It wasn’t really his job. But he was used to her antics and he had a tender affection for her, who only toughened when he left. So he just nodded and took the tray from her hands. “Sit down. I’ll be right back and we’re going to talk.” She shook her head.

She didn’t just erase him from her mind and he wasn’t even sure why he felt relieved at that but he did. With a sort of exaltation that made him want to reach over and smooth over whatever bad had occurred between them before. To fix what he’d taken, but at the same time the urge turned more possessive as well. Wanting to keep it because he had a feeling she couldn’t forget because he’d stolen her memories. Memories that he had no image to put them together and had no way of knowing who they were of. Thinking that it could be of another man—it had to be another man. Or not.

He didn’t want to think about it. It made him clench his fist where his hands were atop of the counter. He couldn’t even bother to notice the eyes on them both, he didn’t want to bother noticing them. They didn’t matter, not really. Myungsoo had this itch that made him regret not having his camera with him at the moment. When she flinched—in the way her hands began quivering--and a co-worker probably, worry in their voice asked her if she was alright.

Myungsoo wanted to capture that. How twisted. He wanted to capture that because in that moment her face had looked a bit torn, a bit lost, a bit of everything and he wanted to keep that. Feeling something lurch inside of his stomach—something akin to bitterness at the fact that all eyes had taken that sight in. Then his mind was set. Right then, right there, he didn’t even think about it twice.

Myungsoo watched her walk away with the man who had made sure she was alright coming back towards them to take care of their orders. As much as he wanted his eyes to not stop following her, it was a good thing he finally looked up at her replacement. Because it was a familiar face and as soon as he realised that the plan became even easier to see in his head.

The man offered him a warm smile as soon as he recognised him as well and for once Myungsoo gave away a smile that definitely was genuine. Unlike the many others he’d offered to the other man before. Sincere because he held in his hands something that Myungsoo wanted to take away. He left the counter and went to hold his hand out for a shake, although he was instead pulled in strong arms that felt warm at the moment. Always did.

The man never was lenient on physical affection towards Myungsoo. Something that probably came with knowing his mother since they were kids. Myungsoo gave a light pat on the man’s back and when he pulled back answered the myriads of question coming his way. How was he, how was his mother, what was he doing here? How was school? Nonchalantly like nothing was wrong—like he wasn’t burning to just get to the point.

When he finally got an opening he did it without waiting for another second.

“Your employee.” Myungsoo tilted his head to where she’d disappeared before—he’d caught her name too. Chaerin.

“Chaerin?” The man asked, surprise in his tone and Myungsoo was thankful that he repeated the name, because he wanted to make sure he’d heard it right then.

“Is she alright?” He made for light at first, not wanting to sound like a creep. He was definitel acting like one though. Why was it bothering him now?

“I don’t know, she isn’t like that usually, did something bother you?” The man’s eyebrows furrowed together, looking contrite like he didn’t want Myungsoo to have any bad feedback on her. It told him enough about what kind of worker she was. It definitely did. Pulled Myungsoo’s lips into a soft smile.

“Let me take her home.”

The furrow of his eyebrows was arched now and it showed a slight hesitation that followed as he rubbed the back of his neck, wondering probably what Myungsoo meant. It had him shaking his head a bit with a soft snicker.

“Not for that. I just have something to tell her. Just a favour.” And he prayed, that it was enough. Because that was all he could give out really. Waiting for this man to decide if Myungsoo could or not and once it was done, once it was settled. He saw it before he heard the man approval and then the hand that was guiding him to where she was sitting, taking a rest. Where Myungsoo had been dying to get to this whole time.

That his palms starting feeling damp had him quickly hiding his hands in his pockets, opting for more nonchalance than needed because truth was he rarely looked anything but at ease with everything. He wanted to see her reaction, when the man—her boss, would tell her the news. Wanted what he was sure would appear. The offense, disbelief, whatever it would be. It’d be bad and he wanted to see it.

Because somehow, when she had this consternated look across her face. He wanted to map it out even more. What a silly thought. He pushed it in the back of his mind and stopped with the man in front of her. He crouched, leaving Myungsoo the only one standing, called her name.

Even if she had wanted to keep it in, she wouldn’t have been able to quiet the loud gasp leaving her lips. It felt like his hand was engulfing her whole intimacy, like a conquered land, something he owned and knew like the back of his hand. At this moment, she was the puppet of his fingers playing with her sex.

The teeth sinking into the souple and tender skin of her breast this time sent an important pain, clearing her mind just enough to make her grip his hair hard and jerk his head away. He was looking at her the way a painter would look at his masterpiece once it was done, with that kind of awe only flawless art representations could inspire.

And it was only at this very moment, her mind succeeded at focusing on something else than his hand, as if having his lips away from the sin that was her body at the moment, because skinned alive by lust, had cleared her mind. She heard. She heard his whispers. What she thought was only soundless breathes against her mouth had a meaning. “I want you so bad.” The words made her clench her stomach, tightening around his fingers, hers dropped their grips and they reached the small of his back pressing their bodies together. And she felt him clearly against her crotch, warm and soft, and awaiting, already so ready for her and that as well, had her whimpering.

"Please." She panted, her eyes locked in his, her hips rocking back and forth, for more rubbing against his crotch and more fingers in her. "Now, I want you, now."

Knowing her body, her hands and hair, nails and tongue could bring him so far into pleasure was getting, as always, the best of her patience. His fingers that had been enough a moment ago were useless against the feeling of him hard for her, hard on her. Her patience burnt out, like  spark set fire to an oil puddle. Her hips gave a strong and firm impulse to the rest of her body and soon, she was straddling his thighs, sitting up to take a better look at his delightful expression. She moved her hips a couple times more before finally lifting them enough to take away his hand from in between her thighs.

She gasped at the loss, her fingers immediatly finding his chest to support her body. Slowly, she moved forwards until his hips were locked between her knees and, as agonizingly, she sat back. She didn’t take him in, but deliciously, she started to rub her damp intimacy against the length of his. Having him so close and yet still not enough ripped a new strangled sound from her lips and the next move was firmer and more demanding. Her second hand joined the first one on his chest.

Then there was the way she spoke, of wanting him now inside, making him groan and want to give into her demand. Because if anything it felt like a heated demand, an order almost and he always found himself loving the way she seemed to control. Though his own need to keep the reign would kick in at times, making him fight back until she surrendered instead. But he'd found pleasure in actually giving in to her. Sometimes. 

Because when he gave her in to her, she almost instantly became the person he captured for the first time. She instantly became his without belonging to him, just this woman that he was falling for, undeniably so. So much that when she took control in that way having him on his back, it was with a delightful noise grating the back of his throat that he gave in and let himself be guided.

Her hands on his chest doing anything but calming down his throbbing erection, nor were the movement of her hips. She knew what she was doing, and he always basked in that blissful knowledge. That she knew how to drive him over the edge just by tempting him with what he could have, if he just gave in and did as she said. He would. He wanted t, so he would of course. 

He'd be damned if he didn't want this, need her, he'd a sick fool if he didn't want to take it all as she offered. She offered even knowing he'd beg, because he would. Or perhaps she did not know that he would. He wondered, in that split moment it took him to take a good look at her, atop of him with that expression  that was going to drive him to his climax if he did not reel the surge of emotion that rushed out. If she knew, he'd beg. 

He'd give her what she wanted, anything she wanted without taking and would ask for her to give herself to him and if she said no, he would probably lose all pride. That, it still scared him a little, so that he shifted under her weight as he let his fingers grip her thighs. Lovely thick flesh that would wear the marks of his hands later on, flush red that'd turn purple with the traces that he wanted to leave.

He slid lower, until his sex laid there between the lips of hers, just rubbing once he'd fitted himself--much like she'd started while she asked for more. He wasn't sure about the rush he'd been in earlier. Now, there was just this sudden quietness that over took him, eyes locked on her face as he just slid down and up, rubbing against her clit, wanting to break her apart bit by bit. Wanting t suddenly take his time to have her break. 

Not wanting anything for him, but everything for her. With a rush of warmth spreading through his chest, a flush that rode on his skin, a flush she put there, that only she could put on his face and every inch of his body. More he'd give her, but not by sheathing himself in, no, not yet.

"I think," He breathed, leaning in to sink his teeth in the skin of her shoulder, kissing the mark later on. His mouth trailing up to her neck, sucking a bruise where he continued his words, "I want you to come for me first." He did not stop his mouth from reaching her ear, reciprocating her earlier action--where she'd said his name as if she held the meaning of it on the tip of her tongue. With her warm mouth that could drive him to insane level of pleasure. Except he let his teeth get a hold of her earlobe and tugged on it, not so sharp, but not so soft.

Dropping what would be a kiss, or just the lazy gesture of his mouth against her cheek, the corner of her mouth. His thrusts not picking up, not sliding inside, teasing at times with the tip of his cock almost breaching, but never doing so. Just returning back to rubbing his length against her, he was going to turn insane. He wanted her to go insane, but he would join in too. There was no way this would end well for him, but still. "Can you?" 

His voice. It echoed in her brain. It took a time for her to understand them. First, words by words and then as a whole sentence. And what could have sounded like an order sounded like a request. As if he wanted it more than her. But he didn’t feel the itch on her skin, the places he wasn’t touching, craving for his fingertips. He wasn’t feeling the emptiness growing in her stomach, waiting to be filled. He wasn’t the one with trembling hands. She could feel how steady his fingers was, there just in between her still closed thighs.

For a second, she forgot to kiss him back, as she spread her legs, as he asked her, as she wanted to. The sensation of his body all against hers. The nearly-too-much heat growing between their skins, nearly melting it so they could shift closer and closer.

She had read once that you never really touched anything, a slight film of tiny tiny atoms was already between your skin and the item. But at this very moment, she knew it wasn’t true. At the very moment his finger glided between her thighs, while the rest of himself was still so closely shaped to fit hers, she knew no atoms could slip. It was him and her, as if it always had been. 

She had wanted to pull away to gasp, but she quieted it against his lips, not letting him leading it. His teeth against her lips brought her mouth to naturally open and, shallow, she sucked it his lower lip, caressing it with the tip of her tongue. Her neck hurts from bearing her head for so long. She brought her fingers into his hair, to pull him with her as she finally relaxed the tension and for a second, she got afraid the pillow was swallowing her. But then again he was everywhere.

She pulled away, panting and containing her whimpers. She knew he hated it, she knew he liked to hear her, the slightest sound coming from her. But she wanted more. If he wanted more, she needed to get more. She slipped a hand on his back and scratched it, not hard, just enough to draw a reddening path under her nails. Her lips were soon back on his, not kissing but letting small breathes leaving her lungs, soundless moans.

If she could control her vocal chords, her body seemed to take cotrol over her brain and she was suddenly arching against him, trying to push his finger into her. Her hand shot up from his back to his neck, where she gripped him. The other caught the arm he had settled beside her head and tightened her grip on it, closing her eyes tightly.

It was too much and not enough. She wanted to pull away to breathe again and to push closer so he could breathe for her. She wanted to reverse the position, take the lead and she wanted to just whimper freely under him. She wanted everything and its contrary. She delightfully was lost.

Because he'd wished one day that the only way for her to feel full would be when he was inside of her, he'd wished, as silly as it was. It'd been close to a week, maybe more, he couldn't pinpoint when exactly and the sky had been willing to grant him just one wish because he knew she needed him inside to be completely sated. But it wasn't just her, it worked for him as well.

A spell that did not just work to make her lose her mind, not at all. A spell that bounded them both. It made him smile, mischievously, his mouth refusing to separate from hers. His breath refusing to break away from hers, a finger inside, wet in a tight warmth that had him aching with the need to slide himself in. 

He would be reckless. The hand of the arm beside her head going for her hair, also damp. Everything was going to end up in sweat, from all that they were going to be doing and soak them until they reached the climax and then it would just stick to the sheets, reminder of how their bodies had made one, totally, wholly so. 

He shook with the weight of the thought, the memory of how it felt, almost losing his resolution to go slow. When had he even grown that resolution? He couldn't remember, somewhere in the middle of waiting for her kiss and wanting to make her pay for making him wait. Somewhere in the middle of his patience breaking and his body screaming that it needed and wanted, with her thighs pressed at his side's spread and yet against his skin.

Soaked, and soaked he was in her scent, her embrace, her fingers around his arm and the noises that she would hold back. He pushed, moved his finger, probed with another one his tongue growing warm where it settled against her cheek, not licking just resting and taking a small taste of the saltiness that laid on her skin. Saltiness that he could feel as he slid down to her throat, al the while still moving inside of her, the second finger following in almost to oeasily.

Getting her ready for the length of him to be able to not hurt when it slid in, but even with the pain she'd said one time--even with the pain it'd be fine, just do it, and need you, so bad, want you so bad, he kept repeating without even knowing he was doing so. He could hear his voice as it slipped past his lips,  but he wasn't even sure if it belonged to him, hoarse as it followed the heat on his cheeks, pressed now against the top of her breasts.

Another dip of his tongue, right in between, teeth sinking in the soft flesh of the cup of one of her breasts and he moved, pressed her down further in the mattress with a need that was not going to die anytime soon. Just kept growing, he could feel it pressing against her stomach wanted her to feel it, what she did to him. 

It would prove impossible though to make love to her if his body did not want to put any kind of space between them, yet he was content. It occurred to him that he'd be content if he just kept going on like that, wanting to hear her voice, his thumb brushing against her clit, just a  subtle tough at first but then pressing.

He wanted her voice, out loud, like she knew he liked it, loved hearing it. Why she kept holding back, maybe he'd have the mind to uestion it later but not right now, it didn't matter. He'd force it out of her if he had to. If e had to close his mouth around the nub of her breast and sink his teeth in--as he did soon as it crossed his mind--he would, he'd draw it out of her, all of it, till exhaustion took her, till she gave in.

Sex had never been a problem to her, since she had only one partner. But it was something else with Myungsoo. Like climbing up your way to your favorite place, enjoying each second of it. It was different each time and yet, he always got her begging for more. Got her body shaking and pressing and pulling and moving. Since the first time he had brought his hands to her body, it had been easier to feel confident about it. He gave her back sensations she thought she would never feel again. But mostly, he gave her sensations she would have never guessed could exist.

Even his hands on her thighs, her full thighs, aim to always more criticisms from her in front of her mirror, didn’t bother her. Worse, her thighs so close to the most heated part of herself, she was turned on, and it was hard not to push his head where she wanted his tongue to be.

His words helped. She loved hearing his voice. It was cute and intimate in the morning, sometimes more than the sweet words and harsh truths murmured in their silences. Sometimes more than his pleasure gasps and grunts.

She definitely didn’t love when he pulled away, despite keeping his hands on her. It seemed the cold air had been waiting the opportunity to swallow her whole and she suppressed a shiver, but the goosebumps rose on her body anyway. She bent oddly in the bed, grasping his face between her two hands, catching, literally, his attention. She wanted his eyes to be on her, she wanted to be his only preoccupation when she was naked and awaiting for her personal earthquake.

So she didn’t reply.

She cupped his face and descended towards it, tilting his head up so she could hover her lips over his mouth. Her eyes closed and she didn’t took the last few inches to kiss him. She stayed a moment here, breathing his air. Her neck was hurting because of the sharp angle she pushed her body to keep but she slowly slided her hands down his back, ghosting over his ribs from time to time, before going up again. Touching him just for the sake of touching him.

Strangely, his question came back to the front of her mind. Did she love snow ? It had been so long since it stopped being about what she liked. Snow wasn’t even something she could control, it just happened and she always thought she was just dealing with it since it was inevitable. But the peace of falling snowflakes, the whiteness gathering at her windows, too bright and blinding.

In fact he did well with silences, if he could manage to fill it with the sound of her voice carrying with other kind of noises, he was fine with silences. Hushed ones that had him training his hand up her thigh, turning around a curve and gliding in the inside of her skin, where he could feel his palm catching a more damp sort of heat.

He waited for a kiss that he felt himself stirring for, blood that ran down below where the sheets were hiding what he knew was his awakening arousal. This, he couldn't do well with this, her mouth so close to his but ot touching, just the mingle of their breath, he wanted to rush her to press a kiss on his mouth, tender or rough, didn't matter.

Just let him touch because he loved her skin, loved the thickness of her flesh against his palm, knowing well that she wore nothing where his fingers were edging closer, that if he wanted to, he could let his one finger inside and it would meet no resistance.

It made him want to do it, make her spread her legs till he could actually reach that far, her thighs still pressed together became frustrating kind of realisation. It had him rolling her onto her back and pressing her down into the mattress with the weight of his body, elbow pressed on the bed beside her head, his hand pushing at her thighs, wanting hem apart--more apart, engulfing him. "Spread them for me." whispering that and only that, in a ushered tone, lips lingering on hers  still without kissing her.

He wasn't sure where the eagerness came from, but it did. Perhaps in the patience he had to endure before she finally decided to press his mouth onto his. She probably knew that patience wasn't something he quite had.

She probably knew because she was like that as well and in that aspect when they were skin against skin, damp from need it proved to be quite a shattering experience because they could never wait to meet. Sex, she'd said--he thought finally touching her with a finger sliding apart her most intimate part, teasingly, without touching anything just feeling her warmth. 

She forced her smile to widen as she felt his hand slip around her. But soon, everything became genuine as his warmth came to embrace her shivering body. She literally felt the race of adrenaline in her blood when his lips touched her stomach. Her light abs clenched at the soft contact.

Everything was always so surprising around him. He seemed to have no filter, he seemed to just live at the pace of his desires, and it made her feel always on the edge. He was often urgent and strangely demanding and she gave and gave and gave, like only her know how to do. Sometimes it was uncomfortable and it was catching her breathe but she still gave, still forced herself to.

His teeth dug into her flesh, not enough to break the skin, but pain still jolted her out of the agonizing bits of her morning glee. A gasp escaped her lips and her hand automatically found his shoulder, digging its nails into it, anchoring herself in him. Her body shifted closer to his and soon even the thought of him couldn’t slip between their pressed bodies.

She never knew sex could be sort of painful and still good. She had only know him, and he was attentive, caring and loving. Somehow, Myungsoo, by his unability to control himself, made her discover the embarrassment of asking for more. They weren’t even starting to get totally intimate, yet she could already feel her body replying to his skin against hers, it was delicious and shameless.

Her hand slipped from his shoulder to his hair and she pressed his mouth against her stomach. Her fingers were shaking and she managed to stifle a strangled laugh.

His teeth letting go of her flesh to favour rubbing his nose against her skin as he let out a soft sigh. A few things catching his attention as well, always did and that he stopped questioning it, or more so could not when he was too busy making sure to give proper attention to every inch of her skin, did not bother him anymore.

He loved having her warm and soft where his fingers could trace patters against her back, her skin memorised and yet he couldn't have enough of letting his tongue run over it Which as the thought crossed his mind he did, dipping his tongue just the slightest bit to catch what had been left yesterday.

That she still smelled and tasted like them, it relaxed him instantly, though that could also be due to her hand in his hair, how she pressed her stomach to his face, made it even easier to almost lose himself against her skin. His early worries slipping away with his hands growing bold as he let them wander lower, till her thigh was in his grip. He heard her voice then, and that was also another thing. That she never held back, and at times it would come out as a surprise, as if she didn't meant for it to just slip out but it did. 

That he could make her lose that last bit of control, it drove him over the edge more than often. That the sound of pleasures of another person could be the final draw for him to get his own had never been something he thought he would experience. That at one point Myungsoo had stopped calling this sex and making love--such a scary thought, that he just didn't want to ever mention.

He wondered if she knew.

With his mouth parting so as to let out a reply to her greeting.

"Is it?" His own voice was still heavy with sleep, hoarse as he cleared his throat and rolled on his back, a hand tight on her side the other digging in the supple flesh of her thigh as he pulled along with the movement, "You like snow?"

There was this intonation in her voice, despite how it lacked any real depth but he'd learned to categorize the ones he wanted to keep. Awe, surprise, pleased, speechless, this one was a bit of a surprised and awed one, a little distracted too.

She woke up early, like the good robot she still was from time to time, when she wasn’t forcing herself to be someone. Someone for him. It wasn’t easy, sometimes the urge to just ignore him was nearly pushing her to lock herself into the bathroom until he disappeared. But something in his gestures, or maybe the way he always prepared her coffee in the mornings, or was it the faint scent of the tacky essence of her lavander soap on a male skin mixed to a stronger perfume of necessity he was leaving everywhere in her flat, just something from him unconsciously convinced her to try harder.

It was early when she woke up and strangely warm. In a confused daze, she located a source of heat behind her. A lazy smile grew on her lips when the situation seemed to knock at the door of her mind. He was here. Sometimes, she would wake up, half swallowed by his embrace and it would take her several minutes to redefine the limits of her body. And some other day, like this day, they wouldn’t touch at all, apart to enjoy being closer. She at first didn’t move from her position, merely opening her eyes.

The light’s strange.

It was too bright, too fake. It wasn’t sunlight but it wasn’t artificial light either, she felt in her guts night was long gone and it was just him and her and the too white light. She shifted in the bed, facing the sleepy man who seemed partly made of blankets at this very moment. She looked above his asleep frame, at the window, and a childish awe overflowed. It was snowing. She immediatly straightened herself to have a better view of the outside world.

The blanket slipped from her shoulder. They had sex before they had fallen asleep and she hadn’t bothered to put back on the long sweatshirt she used as a pajama. As the still and fresh air licked her naked skin, she felt the goosebumps rising and her nipples hardening. She shivered but didn’t move to cover herself, stuck into her memories.

When was the last time she had enjoyed snow ? It felt like years before and as palpable as the taste of a snowflake. He was around for sure. Was it the time he tried to put ginger in her hot chocolate and somehow nearly killed her by mistaking it with black pepper ? The rough taste ghosted on her tongue and she wrinkled her nose, a tender smile on her lips.

Her eyes lingered on the thin yet tall frame beside her. Thinking of him had become easier since he joined her life. He had been the peace treaty between herself and her past, silent and invisible words carved on her skull. It’s okay. Yes, it has become okay to feel good the days he was around, to let him quiet her guilt with his hands on her and whispered words in the crook of her throat, to have her heart stuttering around him.

It wasn't missing, but it hadn't been long enough for him to feel it everywhere. It felt soft, where his head was resting, the scent emanating from the pillow familiar and yet everything else still felt faintly like it belonged to someone else.

He wasn't awake, yet still sleepy. In that semi state where he had to relearn everything around him, memorise it again so he wouldn't wake up with the usual way he did when he was in a strange place. It usually consisted of a simple good morning, no contact and just him grabbing his clothes and leaving. 

It was the ruffle of sheets though, as he kept his eyes shut despite the fact that awareness was coming onto him now. Closer and now palpable, he could recognise the pillow from the way it dipped with the weight of his head. His own pillow did not have the same texture, this one belonged to her. Or did it?

There was always this underlying feeling as if what he was doing, was to replace what she'd lost. Because he would be lying to himself if he said it didn't irritate him at times. Patience was something he'd learned to have with her, but at times, a limit was reached and he just couldn't help it. Maybe it was from the first time, from that moment where he felt like stealing everything she was keeping, making her look at him without even knowing that had been his intention.

Become mine, make me your centre.

Thoughts like that never stopped, not even once he got her. Because somehow, a part of him knew she would never really be his, entirely completely. She would always keep that other life. It stirred him awake at once, as if he felt it, that her mind could wander at times, far away from him.

One day she might wake up, decide that she preferred to stay where she was when he found her and Myungsoo wouldn't know what to do with it. Madness had always been something so far stretched to his mind but imagining her leave, imagining her not chose him, it seemed too close for his liking.

That he awoke with a frown that met her smile, he wanted to blame it on how she made him feel. Unknown to himself, a stranger in his own mind body and soul. As if she'd replaced everything he was with everything he wanted to be for her. 

The sight would have appeased his thoughts, and maybe they did, but not enough that he didn't want to touch her, make sure that yesterday wasn't a dream. That his thoughts were just that, thoughts that would never find their way into this reality. That she almost seemed like a dream, contrast to how he'd felt her so real under his fingers last night.

The way she felt right now, as he reached for the expanse of skin his eyes could catch despite the ray of lights that came through the curtains. Unusual light, that he did not pay attention to, why would he, he had another one that mattered right now. His attention he gave it to what was worthy and she was, it didn't matter that he barely voiced these thoughts sometimes, he preferred showing it.

She let her mind giving her a general view of him. Not pieces; but a true global sigh of him, like a map of the world. He was nothing like him. Too thin, too introvert, too insistent with his eyes. He was breathing confidence, but not the same kind that he had. He had been sure of his happiness, of his life, of his friends. But the stranger was a self-centered confidence. He trusted in himself and that wasn’t going to be changed by external datas. Even their hands were different. He had huge hands, callous against her flesh, for manual works, when he had long and endless fingers, soft skin of artist and people who could afford it.

Chaerin finally felt like he was expecting something from her and she got scared. She wasn’t ready to hold a conversation anymore. She had only talked by necessity. She took another step back, dropped her gaze to the floor and turned her heels, starting to walk away, stiff and awkward.

She felt empty for having feel so much in such a short time and she wanted to sleep. She knew she wouldn’t show up at her job finally and she knew the dreams she was going to make.

He wasn't going to use it for commercial purposes, or even show it to anyone. The thought of deleting them just unsettled him and he wouldn't question it just go with how he felt, instincts was one of the things he always counted on because it never led him wrong. 

It wasn't like he expected a conversation to come out of this. But feeling powerless with a situation wasn't something he was used to. Yet here he was, left alone standing there eyes on herb ack as she moved further and further away and his fingers tightened around the straps of his camera.

The strength of his grip pushing the strings in the flesh of his skin until it had him wincing and letting go, snapping his attention down and away from her disappearing sight. A drink or two wouldn't hurt right now, he might have to call some friends that only belonged in his circle because of what he had to offer--and never what they could give because they never gave anything. 

Not that he expected them to. He had to get his mind off what happened today. Maybe not today though, he was still upset, eyebrows furrowed together before relaxing his expression in a blank one. Fingers idly touching the camera as he also turned on his heels, nothing left to see or do here. 

The presence that was gone, had left him was still imprinted here and it felt heavy--this whole place felt like a huge lump he dumped soon as he was at a safe distance. The whole incident almost seemed like a dream, maybe he would wake up soon as he stepped out of the park and none of it would have happened.

It had this eerie feeling to it and yet it'd seemed too real, palpable. Even though he hadn't touched a strand of her hair, not even brushed against her skin but he was almost certain it couldn't have been a dream because if it'd been then he wouldn't be feeling like each steps he was taking was dragging instead of the natural assured ones he took when he wandered in the park. 

The sky was darkening and Myungsoo quietly spent the rest of the walk back to his apartment, which was't far away from his current position, trying to piece what'd happened today. What was left on the memory card would tell him, he'd know then. The most upsetting fact was that this itch in his fingers that made him think about holding a brush wasn't dying, did not fade, and his memory kept every lines of her features that he wanted to draw.

He wished it was a dream. 

I shouldn’t have come here. Too soon.

"And I owe you nothing." Her voice sounded firmer this time, certain, like a tree taking its roots into a cliff, when everything was falling apart and it stayed royal. The calm in herself helped her to focus and what really mattered. She would have all the time later to grieve for her lost renewed pain and memories.

It was made so practical lately, with technology, that he refused to get used to at first. Because art and technology was something he'd hated that people melded without an ounce of respect for the first one. But then, in this moment, he was glad it existed, really as he turned the camera towards her, showing her the screen. 

He ignored the few other words she said, he'd get it, maybe not today but there was one thing Myungsoo believed in more than anything, the power of pictures. Putting these out and asking people around could get him more answers than she thought. But the thought of sharing what he was illegally saving irked him and he almost shook his head. Maybe if one of them didn't work, or maybe draw a portrait. 

Soon as the idea sunk in he surprised himself by already imaging the pencil and blank canvases that had been sitting in his studios for years, untouched. Inspiration having died from his fingers, no more paint, no more pencil lines could be drawn and he'd given up on drawing for reasons that still made him shake with anger at the thought of holding a brush. 

And here he was, thinking of drawing a portrait, of all things. 

To shake the thoughts and memories away, he showed her as his fingers quickly pressed the delete pictures. "Easy." He let out before turning the screen back to him and shutting it down. Safe and sound, and Myungsoo liked it that way. He kept his gaze on her though as she stood there, wondered if that was satisfying enough for her, would she stop looking like she wasn't herself now.

If he could just catch another glimpse of that person he'd caught at first, he liked that one better. It didn't matter that he caught tears, and emotions that were more painfully heavy on his mind than light, what mattered was that they were genuine and that was what Myungsoo did. 

He pictured genuineness and immortalized it, because if there was one thing this world needed it was human's honesty. The raw sight of it, the one that they can't hold or change or twist, no matter how ugly or painful it might be. Long as it was there unhidden, Myungsoo wanted that.

She gave him just that, she did and she probably knew it, or she wouldn't be so offended. She probably knew and he wondered how she knew, what was so important that she knew he'd taken it. No one ever asked and yet she looked so persistent in her order, her demand, as if she truly believed that he could steal that away from her with just his eyes.

That she believed that, was what gave him the power to do so. Did she know that? That as the wind blew, soft against her hair and a few strands flew away with it, wanting to be free--that if Myungsoo captured this and went away with it, like he wanted to do right now but was forced not to--if he did and she thought he stole it instead of thinking that he just took a picture.

Then she was giving him the power of owning it, stealing it, making it his. He wanted to, so bad. This was definitely what his professor told him, this was what wanting and having a muse felt like. The constant need to do something with it--her in this case. To take in everything and at the same time leave enough out for only him to know what she had and didn't and he had to. It couldn't just end like this, thought it looked like it would.

Chaerin suddenly felt like she was betraying him. She was aware of someone else’s existence when he didn’t exist anymore. And it was a man. He never had been the jealous type, not openly, but she knew better. She knew the careful eyes on her back when she was clubbing. The gentle fingers embracing hers when they were taking a coffee. The lingering kisses on the top of her head during concerts.

Nevertheless, the betrayal vanished as she heard him talk again. She looked at the stranger in disbelief, her fingers not leaving the camera. She was just staring at him, not quite understanding the situation. He stole him from me and he wants something else from me ? A sarcastic laugh bubbled up in her throat, melting along her anger, and she let it out dryly, the fake mirth hurting all the way to the outside; her throat, her tongue, her teeth, her lips. You have already taken everything. The laughter stopped as suddenly as it began, like the previous moment never happened. I have nothing else to give you.

"Delete the pictures."

He did not appreciate the intrusion and he understood now, what she felt, still. Thinking about letting go of this opportunity, had him pausing with this heavy feeling settling in his stomach then growing restless, squirming on spot as he thought about how to make her let go.

Then it struck him, of course. That would work and as it did, he tugged gently on his camera, not wanting to reach and touch her. He had a feeling if it wouldn't be a good thing to do right now. He was already quite in the red line and crossing yet another one, a physical one did not seem like his best option and even he knew when to respect some limits. 

But he didn't want to let go and he didn't have to, so as he opened his mouth ready to lie without even hesitating, he knew that he wouldn't regret this. If there was one thing Myungsoo did not ever want to feel, it was regret. He could take it all in, but disappointment and regrets were two things he'd learned to avoid in his life.

So far it'd gone so well, then here she was, looking at him like no matter what he'd say or do, if she didn't have the certainty that the pictures were deleted she would not let him go and it irked him, but at the same time it made him more curious.

"I'll delete them." He finally said, it rolled off his tongue so easily as he held her gaze back and itched to grab her wrist to make her let go, btu stood still, stopped tugging on his camera as he stood and nodded, holding eye contact long enough to make her believe that he was telling the truth.

"I will, if you elt go, I can't do much when you're holding onto it this way." It would also help him relax and feel more in control if she could let go of the only thing that helped him feel this way. He was starting to get irritated. At himself, for even getting into this situation and at her too, for being so dramatic, for letting him get in, though she didn't have quite a choice in the matter.

He made the choice for her and he should have felt guilty, but all he felt was something close to annoyance. Why wasn't he allowed to? Suddenly it bothered him and that it bothered him was even more unsettling so he dropped his gaze once again, eyebrows furrowed together. He didn't want to think about that.

He wanted a chance to slip out of this situation without her suspicion without losing contact. Without losing contact and having to admit to himself that it looked as if he could take her, he could capture her and no one, no one had ever made him want to do so--it thrilled him.

It made him remember of that one time, when he was a kid, when his father came home the happiest and all they'd done the whole day was what usual families did. Go on a day off, swimming, but it had been that, they'd been a family that day and that feeling was there settled against his chest and he looked back up at the woman standing in front of him.

Her wrath was so powerful, no word could leave her lips. She was just panting, her eyes diving into the other’s look. It was mine. This camera stole it. He was mine. It stole all the honesty of the moment, all its pureness. For the slightest moment. It wasn’t hers anymore. He came back to me. This camera stole him from her. Your fault !

And the usual pain came back, winning her like a conquered land. She suddenly wanted to be able to cry. She never cried since he was gone. And, despite the burn announcing the tears, she knew she wouldn’t shed them. After a long moment, she finally found the calm to speak. And her voice was cold and obsolete.

For a brief moment he felt guilty, then he didn't and all he felt was a swell rise in his throat because he'd caught it all without meaning to but he didn't want to let go of that. This was probably what his professor meant. Hidden memories that you could capture on someone's face, in the words they meant for only themselves and the person they were trying to reach.

So the guilt faded away, letting place to a feeling he couldn't quite grasp but it wasn't a bad one, it almost made the heat on his face deepen in a blush a rather uncharacteristic coming from him. It made him clear his throat as he got caught, trapped there with an unwanted grip on his camera that he narrowed his eyes down at.

He looked back up at her face, expression softness al gone, the hard edge it had now made him want to bring his camera back up and catch it again, because he'd caused that and somehow he wasn't unhappy about it. Give me more, that sort of feeling that had his palms sweating where he was still holding his camera still, not doing anything to tug it away from her. 

He should apologize was what his mind was telling him, but a tilt of his head followed the thought as well as a small smile, barely noticeable the corner of his mouth just slightly curling up and he kept her gaze. He was probably at a disadvantage here, keeping it could make her actually drag him to court, he could lose big for this.

But really, truth be told he didn't want to delete it. He wasn't about to let that be known though, not when she was standing there looking at him like he'd taken everything from her. A lie, tell a lie, his mind then told him and that he could agree with so he gently tried to free his camera from her hold.

"Will do, if you let go." He said, tone calm, almost like it was foolish for her to be so angry about this, he wondered if it'd work, it did on everyone else. He liked keeping his composure and watching people that he got a rise out steam with rage and anger and confusion as to why he never seemed to burst.

A few things made him burst, a few things that fortunately no one but his mother and him knew about and it was best kept secret considering how many people would like to break his façade. Then an idea crept up his mind as he thought about it, because the need hadn't died, weirdly enough, confusingly enough--though none of it showed on his face he studied her face still waiting for her to let go of his camera so he could make sure that at least was safe.