Ria♡°

jake sim stands near the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard, where the night air probably feels cooler and less suffocating than in here.

one hand is casually tucked into the pocket of his dark jeans, the fabric hugging his legs just right, while the other gestures animatedly as he talks to a girl you vaguely recognize from your literature class — maybe her name is karina or something close. she’s laughing at something he said, head tilted back in that carefree way, exposing the line of her throat, her fingers brushing his arm every few seconds like she can’t help touching him. the way she leans into his space screams interest, flirtiness, and he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he seems to welcome it, that charm radiating off him.

and jake — good god, jake looks perfect. the kind of perfect that makes your chest ache with a sharp, longing twist.

he’s wearing a simple black button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing those toned forearms that flex subtly every time he moves his hand for emphasis. his hair falls softly over his forehead in that effortless, slightly tousled way, like he ran his fingers through it once and left it alone, knowing it would look devastating. the dim lighting catches on the sharp line of his jaw, the warm brown of his eyes, and when he smiles at her, it’s the same warm, dimpled smile he’s given you a dozen times in the hallway or during group project meetings. the kind of smile that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds, crinkling the corners of his eyes and making his whole face light up.

he leans in closer to hear her better over the music, nodding along with genuine interest, his full attention on her like she’s the only person in this entire crowded house.

that’s the thing about jake. when he focuses on someone, it feels like the rest of the world fades into background noise — no distractions, no half-measures. just him, fully present, making you feel seen in a way that’s dangerously addictive.

you swallow hard, fingers tightening around your barely-touched drink until the plastic creaks under your grip. the soda has gone warm and gass-less, but you don’t care. you haven’t taken more than a sip in the last twenty minutes anyway, too busy nursing this quiet ache while pretending to scroll on your phone every few seconds so no one notices you staring.

you’ve been crushing on him for four months now.

four long, torturous months of stolen glances across lecture halls, light flirting in the library where his knee would accidentally brush yours under the table, and random texts about class notes that somehow turned into conversations about favorite movies and late-night snacks and that one time he admitted he secretly loves cheesy romance dramas even though his friends would tease him endlessly for it.

and, the thing is, everybody knows jake doesn’t flirt casually. if he gives a girl that kind of attention — the lingering eye contact, the playful teasing texts at midnight, the way he remembers small details like how you take your coffee — it means he’s interested in something real. dating, commitment, the whole boyfriend package with hand-holding walks across campus and good morning messages that make your heart race.

he’s had two serious girlfriends in the past three years, one lasting several months where you’d see them together looking so effortlessly in sync, the other stretching a whole year where rumors said they were practically inseparable until things eventually ended on good terms. each one looking blissfully happy in his presence, glowing like they’d unlocked some secret level of connection and pleasure that you can only imagine.

and that’s exactly why your stomach twists into tight, anxious knots right now.

you’re a virgin. painfully, embarrassingly inexperienced.

you’ve kissed a couple guys before, sure — awkward fumbling in the dark during high school parties, all sloppy lips and unsure hands that never quite knew where to go or how to make it feel good. but nothing more. no one has ever touched you the way you know jake has touched his exes. you’ve overheard enough whispered conversations in the girls’ bathroom or seen the way those exes still look at him sometimes with fond, satisfied smiles.

jake is the type who probably knows exactly what he’s doing — patient, attentive, skilled in ways that leave girls breathless and glowing, satisfied down to their bones. the kind of guy who takes his time, learns what makes someone moan and shiver, who makes sex feel like an art form instead of a clumsy rush. and the thought of him finding out how clueless you are makes your cheeks burn even in the middle of this loud, overheated party, a flush creeping up your neck that has nothing to do with the alcohol you’re barely drinking.

what if you freeze up when things finally get intimate? what if your hands shake too much to touch him the right way, or you don’t know how to kiss him properly with that slow, deep confidence he probably expects? what if you can’t make him feel good, can’t match the energy of his past girlfriends who clearly knew how to please him back? what if he realizes you’re not on the same level — not experienced, not sexy, not adventurous enough — and the interest in his eyes dims? the flirting would stop. the texts would fade. he’d move on to someone who doesn’t need to google basic techniques in secret or lie awake at night worrying about being a disappointment in bed.

you bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste the faint metallic taste, forcing your gaze away just as the girl leans up to whisper something in jake’s ear. her lips brush close, too close, and he laughs softly — that low, charming sound carrying across the room like a sweet melody cut through the bass. it’s warm and genuine, the kind that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach even from this distance.

you turn toward the counter instead, pretending to refill your cup from the half-empty punch bowl, the liquid sloshing messily as your hand trembles slightly. the ice cubes clink loudly in your cup, a small distraction from the way your heart pounds against your ribs.

around you, the party pulses on without pause. someone bumps your shoulder accidentally, muttering a quick sorry before disappearing back into the crowd. a group of girls nearby bursts into giggles over some inside joke, their voices high and tipsy. the music shifts to a slower track, something with heavy bass and breathy vocals that only makes the atmosphere feel more charged, more intimate despite the chaos. you glance back once more, unable to resist, and catch jake’s eyes flicking in your direction for the briefest second. does he see you? does that dimpled smile flicker with recognition? your breath catches, but then he’s turning back to the girl, saying something that makes her touch his arm again, and the moment slips away like smoke.

you set the cup down untouched, wiping your damp palms on the sides of your jeans. the insecurity sits heavy in your chest, a constant whisper reminding you that jake sim deserves someone who can keep up. someone confident. someone who knows how to flirt without second-guessing every word, how to touch without hesitation, how to make a guy like him lose control in the best ways.

and right now, that someone feels impossibly far from who you are — standing here in the corner, heart racing over nothing more than a smile across a crowded room.

the party swirls around you, alive and indifferent, but your mind stays trapped in that loop of what-ifs and quiet longing, the bass still humming low like a reminder that time is moving forward whether you’re ready or not.

“you’re doing that thing again,” a familiar voice says beside you.

yunjin appears like magic, sliding an arm around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder. her long hair tickles your neck, smelling like coconut shampoo and the strawberry lip gloss she always wears. she’s been your best friend since freshman orientation — loud where you’re quiet, confident where you overthink everything.

“what thing?” you mumble, even though you already know.

“the ‘staring at jake like he hung the moon but also might destroy my entire soul’ thing.” she steals a sip from your cup and grimaces. “ugh, you’re drinking the watered-down shit again. come on, let’s get you something stronger.”

you let her drag you toward the other end of the kitchen, but your mind stays stuck on jake. even through the hazy, crowded warmth of the party, your eyes keep drifting back to where he’s laughing with some guys from the club soccer team. yunjin notices, of course. she always does, her grip tightening on your arm in a silent show of support while she pours something sweet and dangerously strong into a fresh red cup for you.

later that night, after the party finally winds down and the bass stops rattling your teeth, you’re both back in your shared off-campus apartment. the contrast is jarring, the heavy silence of the night settling over everything. the real conversation happens when the rest of the world is asleep. you’re sprawled on your bed in oversized pajamas, hair still slightly damp and curling from a quick shower, while yunjin sits cross-legged on the floor painting her nails a deep, glossy burgundy. the lamp on your nightstand casts a soft, amber glow across the room, and the distant city hums faintly outside the window.

“okay, spill,” she says without looking up, carefully dragging the tiny brush over her thumbnail. “you’ve been weird about jake for weeks. what’s the hold-up? he literally flirted with you for twenty minutes last tuesday in the café. he doesn’t do that unless he’s serious. he was giving you that puppy-dog look the whole time.”

you pull your knees tightly to your chest, hugging them until your knuckles turn white. the weight of the secret has been crushing you for days, and the words finally tumble out before you can stop them.

“i’m scared, yunjin. really scared.”

she glances up instantly, the brush hovering inches above her index finger. the playful tease drops from her face. “scared of what? jake’s a sweetheart. he’s not some asshole who’s going to play games with you.”

“it’s not him. it’s… me.” your voice drops to a pathetic whisper, your cheeks instantly heating up with a fierce, burning blush. you bury your chin in your knees. “i’m a virgin. completely. i’ve barely even done anything beyond clumsy high school kissing. and jake’s had actual girlfriends. serious ones. he knows what he’s doing, yunjin. what if i’m bad at it? what if i disappoint him? he’ll realize i’m not… enough. not experienced enough. not sexy enough. not whatever his exes were.”

yunjin sets the nail polish bottle down on a stray magazine slowly, giving you her full, undivided attention. her expression softens, the fierce protectiveness she always has for you melting into something tender, though there’s still a sharp spark of determination in her eyes.

“babe… first of all, that’s so normal. lots of people are virgins in college, even if they don't advertise it. second, if jake likes you — and he clearly does — he’s not going to expect you to be some kind of porn star on day one. he'd probably think it was sweet, honestly.” she pauses, watching your miserable expression. “but i get it. you want to feel confident. you don't want to be overthinking every single touch when you're finally alone with him. you want to blow his mind when it happens.”

you nod miserably, burying your face completely in your knees for a second, your voice muffled. “i just want to feel like I know what I'm doing. just a little bit.”

yunjin taps her freshly painted fingers on the carpet, her mind visibly whirring. then she smiles — that mischievous, slightly dangerous, scheming smile you know all too well. it’s the smile that usually precedes a terrible, brilliant idea.

“if you really want to impress him… there’s someone who can help.”

you peek at her over the tops of your knees, skeptical. “what do you mean? like a book? a podcast?”

“sunghoon’s friend. jay. jay park.” she says it like the name should mean something immediately, dropping it into the quiet room like a bombshell. “he’s discreet as hell. experienced — like, really experienced. girls talk about him in hushed tones in the sorority houses, trust me. apparently he’s an incredible teacher. no strings attached, just pure skill-building. he’s actually done this before for a couple of people who were in your exact shoes. helps them get confident, learn what they need to know. everything from flirting, body language, touching, all the way down to… you know.”

your eyes widen to the size of saucers. “you’re joking. you want me to ask a random guy to tutor me in sex?”

“dead serious. he’s not a fuckboy in the messy, heartbroken-trail way. more like… selective. efficient.” yunjin leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her tone shifting into something more serious. “and look, here's the thing. jay is known for fucking the girls he hangs out with, yeah. he has that reputation for a reason. but… you don't have to do that. he's not some caveman. jay is actually the best one on this entire campus to go to for advice, even if you never lay a finger on him.”

she waves a hand to emphasize her point, careful not to smudge her polish. “he might make an exception for you. you can literally just have the option of not sleeping with him. you can just go to him, tell him the situation, and let him give you advice. he knows how guys think, he knows what jake’s vibe is since they run in similar circles, and he can literally just talk you through it. teach you how to read the room, how to touch without being awkward. but if you do decide you want hands-on practice? he's the guy. if you approach him the right way and you’re honest, he’ll probably say yes to whatever level you’re comfortable with. he’s good at keeping secrets too. sunghoon swears he's the most trustworthy guy he knows.”

you stare at her, your heart hammering a rapid rhythm against your ribs. jay. you’ve seen him around campus, of course. everyone has. he’s impossible to miss — tall, with that sharp jawline, dark hair usually styled flawlessly, always dressed like he just stepped out of a high-end fashion magazine. he has this quiet, heavy confidence mixed with a sharp, teasing look that makes people nervous to look him in the eye for too long. the mere idea of walking up to him and asking him for… lessons felt completely insane. humiliating. but beneath the embarrassment, a tiny, buried part of you felt a thrill that was absolutely terrifying.

“i couldn’t,” you whisper, your voice shaking slightly. “yunjin, that’s crazy. 'hey jay, can you teach me how to be good in bed so i can go sleep with your acquaintance?' he’ll laugh in my face.”

“is it crazier than stressing yourself sick over whether you’ll be good enough for jake? you're practically giving yourself an ulcer over a guy who hasn't even kissed you yet.” yunjin raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “look, you deserve to feel prepared. empowered. jay’s the guy for that, whether he's just talking to you over a drink or showing you what to do. no emotions, no drama, just practice and advice. think about it. just promise me you'll think about it.”

the conversation lingers long after yunjin finally packs up her nail polish and leaves your room, kissing your forehead goodnight and telling you to text her if you need to spiral more. you lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the name jay repeating in your head like a dare.

you lie there in the dark, the harsh blue glow of your phone illuminating your face in the otherwise pitch-black room. your thumb hovers precariously over the message bar, trembling slightly.

you had found jay’s contact info through a mutual friend's group chat earlier that night, your heart racing so fast you could hear it in your ears the entire time you were saving his number. now, at exactly 2:17 a.m., the sheer absurdity of the hour matches the sheer absurdity of what you're about to do. you type a sentence, delete it. type another, delete that too. you rewrite the message five times, your palms sweating against the glass screen, before you finally force your thumb to stay still and craft something that sounds at least semi-coherent.

you: hi… this is awkward but um. yunjin mentioned you might be able to help with some… lessons? about confidence and stuff. with guys. i’m really new to all of it and there’s this guy i like and i don’t want to mess it up. if you’re not interested that’s totally fine, sorry for bothering you this late.

you hit send.

the instant the little outgoing chime sounds, a wave of pure, instant regret crashes over you. you toss the phone away like it’s physically burning you, letting it land somewhere in the tangled blankets at the foot of your bed. you cover your face with both hands, groaning softly into the quiet room. this is ridiculous. it's humiliating. who even asks for something like this? jay park is going to think you're an absolute freak, or worse, he's going to screenshot it and show sunghoon.

a minute passes. then two. the silence in your room feels heavy, suffocating. you're just about to reach down and turn the phone completely off to save yourself further agony when the mattress vibrates.

buzz.

your heart leaps into your throat. you scramble through the covers, fishing for the device and unlocking it with shaking fingers.

jay: well this is a new way to get my attention. lessons, huh? for a specific guy? bold.

before you can even process the dry, teasing tone of his text, another message bubbles up right underneath it.

jay: meet me tomorrow at the café near the east library. 4pm. we can talk details. don’t overthink it too much, newbie.

your stomach flips hard, dropping into a dizzying freefall. he said yes. kind of. it’s incredibly teasing, dripping with the exact kind of effortless confidence that usually intimidates you, but it’s still a yes. he didn't laugh you off. he didn't tell you to lose his number.

you roll onto your back, dropping the phone onto your chest and staring up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above you. the shadows from the blades cut rhythmic patterns across the ceiling, but they do nothing to soothe your mind, which is currently racing at a thousand miles an hour.

what the hell are you actually doing?

asking jay park — the campus mystery, the guy who walks through hallways like he owns them, the one with that intense, piercing stare that makes people look away first — to teach you how to flirt, how to touch, how to… god, how to do everything. and you're doing it all just so you can feel like you're enough for jake sim. the contrast between the two boys couldn't be wider: jake, with his warm, sweet, golden-retriever energy and easy smiles, and jay, who feels like a sharp knife, dark leather jackets, and expensive cologne.

but underneath the suffocating layers of panic and embarrassment, a tiny, unfamiliar spark begins to take hold. it’s a spark of excitement. of real hope. yunjin was right; you've been putting yourself through misery over your lack of experience. maybe this is exactly what you need to break out of your own head. maybe jay really can turn you into someone confident, someone desirable — someone who won’t freeze up or panic when jake finally makes a real move.

you pull the heavy blanket higher up over your shoulders, curling onto your side as your phone screen finally times out and dims, plunging the room back into total darkness.

tomorrow at 4 p.m. there's no backing out now. you're really doing this.

and as exhaustion finally starts to get to you, a nervous, slightly hysterical laugh escapes your lips into the quiet apartment.

what have you gotten yourself into?

-------

the next afternoon, 4:00 p.m. arrives far too quickly.

the café near the east library is tucked away in a quieter corner of the campus, mostly populated by grad students typing furiously on laptops and the heavy smell of roasted coffee beans. you change your outfit three times before leaving the apartment, finally settling on something casual but not too casual, your hands sweating the entire walk over.

when you push the glass door open, the little bell chiming above you feels like a death threat. you look around the dimly lit space, and there he is.

jay is sitting at a small corner table near the back window, looking entirely too calm and entirely too hot for a thursday afternoon. he’s wearing a simple black sweater, the sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms, and his dark hair is perfectly styled, just like always. he has a half-empty iced americano in front of him, his thumb casually scrolling through his phone. there’s a quiet, effortless aura of arrogance around him, but as he catches movement and looks up, his sharp features soften into a playful, lazy smirk.

“you’re exactly on time,” he says, his voice a low, smooth rumble that instantly makes your stomach do a flip. he slides the empty chair opposite him out with his foot. “sit. you look like you’re about to faint.”

you sink into the chair, gripping your tote bag tightly against your chest like a shield. “hi. thank you for coming.”

“relax, newbie. i don’t bite,” he teases, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. he studies your burning, red face for a second before a soft chuckle escapes him. “you know, you could have just told me the whole story in the text. saved yourself some typing.”

you blink, confused. “what do you mean?”

jay leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a dangerous amount of amusement. “yunjin told sunghoon. sunghoon told me. so, i already know the full context.” his smirk widens, making him look devastatingly handsome. “so you want to learn how to fuck properly for jake sim? bold.”

your entire face explodes in a fierce, blinding heat. you literally feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, and for a terrifying, very long second, you consider hiding under the table or running away as fast as you can. you bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled and laced with pure mortification. “oh my god. i am going to kill yunjin. i am actually going to murder her.”

jay lets out a genuine, low laugh at your reaction, the sound rich and surprisingly warm. “don’t kill her yet. she’s just looking out for you. and honestly? it’s refreshing. most girls try a lot harder to play it cool around me.”

you slowly drop your hands, your cheeks still burning a bright pink. “i don't even know what i'm doing here. this is insane.”

“it’s only insane if you make it insane,” jay says calmly, his playful tone softening just a fraction into something a bit more business-like. he pushes a clean napkin and a pen toward you, though he keeps his eyes on your face. “let’s treat this like an introduction. an assessment. before we can fix anything, i need to know what we’re working with. list all the things you think you’re bad at. everything you're worried about. so i know what to focus on.”

you stare at the blank napkin, swallowing hard. the vulnerability of it feels immense, but you’re already here, and you’re already completely humiliated. you take a deep breath and start listing them off, your voice dropping to a quiet whisper so the barista won’t hear.

“flirting,” you start, counting on your fingers instead of writing it down. “i freeze up. and… kissing. i’ve only ever done clumsy high school kissing, nothing serious. touching… like, knowing where to put my hands without being awkward. sex, obviously, since i’ve never done it. and… just confidence in general. i overthink everything until i ruin the mood.”

jay listens quietly, his sharp eyes tracking the movement of your fingers. he doesn't laugh, and he doesn't tease you this time. he just nods slowly, absorbing the information.

“okay. that’s a solid list,” he says. then, his gaze drops to how tightly you’re still clutching your bag, your knuckles white, your shoulders tense and pulled high. his eyes lift back to yours, perceptive and sharp. “you’re terrified i’m going to try to jump you, aren’t you?”

your breath hitches. you open your mouth to deny it, but the words catch in your throat. you are skeptical about getting physical with him. the idea of practicing on jay park feels like playing with fire, and you’re fully aware you might get burned.

jay sighs softly, leaning back again, his posture completely relaxed to contrast your tension. “look at me.”

you look up, meeting his intense stare.

“yunjin told you i have a reputation, and she’s right. i’m not going to sit here and pretend i’m a saint,” jay says, his tone completely direct, peer-to-peer, without a shred of judgment. “but i don’t do anything without absolute consent. i can see you’re stressed out of your mind right now. so, let’s take the pressure off. we are not getting physical. the ‘lessons’ will be entirely theoretical. just talking, advice, breaking down how guys think, and giving you the blueprint. unless you explicitly ask to change that later down the line, we keep our hands to ourselves. deal?”

the relief that washes over you is so sudden and heavy that your shoulders visibly drop. “deal. thank you. seriously.”

“don’t thank me yet, newbie. you’re still going to have to work on that confidence,” jay says, that familiar, teasing grin creeping back onto his face. he stands up, grabbing his iced coffee and sliding his phone into his pocket. “we’re done for today. meet me at my dorm tomorrow afternoon. third floor of the west quad, room 314. we’ll start the actual work then.”

he gives you one last, lingering look — a mix of amusement and something else you can’t quite read — before turning and walking out of the café, leaving you alone at the table with a racing heart and the sudden realization that you’re actually going through with this.

-------

the next afternoon, you find yourself standing outside room 314 in the west quad, your heart doing gymnastics against your ribs. you take three deep, stabilizing breaths before finally raising a shaking hand to knock.

the door swings open almost immediately, and jay stands there looking effortlessly put-together in a gray hoodie and sweatpants. his hair is slightly messy today, falling over his forehead, which somehow makes him look even more intimidatingly handsome.

“you’re on time again. i like that,” he says, stepping back to let you in.

his dorm is surprisingly clean and smells faintly of sandalwood and expensive laundry detergent. there’s a vinyl player in the corner, a desk stacked with textbooks, and a neatly made bed. jay walks over to his desk chair, spins it around to face the bed, and motions for you to sit on the mattress.

“alright, newbie. welcome to lesson one,” jay says, his tone shifting into something surprisingly focused. he sits down, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. “today is all about the fundamentals. eye contact, body language, and light teasing. if you can't master the tension before you even touch a guy, everything else falls flat. so, we start here.”

you nod, swallowing hard, trying to look like a good student. “okay. what do i do?”

“first thing: eye contact,” jay says, leaning forward slightly. his dark eyes lock onto yours, intense and unblinking. “when you’re talking to jake, you have a habit of looking down at your shoes or glancing away every three seconds. it makes you look like you’re guilty of a crime. i want you to hold my gaze. don’t look away until i do.”

you brace yourself and look straight into his eyes. one second passes. then two. the sheer intensity of his stare feels like a physical weight in the room. by second four, your heart is pounding, your throat feels dry, and your eyes instinctively dart toward the window.

jay lets out a soft, amused scoff. “four seconds. tragic. again.”

you lock eyes with him again, biting the inside of your cheek. this time, you manage to hold it, but you can feel your face flushing a bright, furious pink.

jay watches the blush spread across your cheeks, a slow, lazy half-smile spreading across his face. he’s clearly enjoying how easily he can fluster you, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “you’re cute when you’re panicking, you know that? but you need to relax your shoulders. you look like a statue.”

“it’s hard,” you complain, your voice a little high. “you’re staring at me like a hawk.”

“jake is going to stare at you too, newbie. you need to get used to it,” jay teases, leaning back in his chair with a playful grin. “alright, let’s move on to flirting and light teasing. pretend i’m jake. we’re at a party, i just walked up to you, and i say, ‘hey, i like your outfit.’ how do you respond?”

you clear your throat, trying to channel every romantic comedy you’ve ever watched. you try to mimic the slow, confident smirk jay always uses, but your lips twitch awkwardly.

“oh, this old thing?” you say, your voice dripping with a completely unnatural, overly dramatic theatricality. you even throw in a bizarre little hair flip that feels entirely forced. “thanks. i guess you don’t look too bad yourself.”

the room goes completely silent.

jay just stares at you for three long seconds, his expression an unbelievable mix of utter disbelief and pure, unadulterated amusement. then, he buries his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as a deep, breathless laugh escapes him.

“oh my god,” jay groans, looking up at you with tears of laughter in his eyes. “that was… easily the worst thing i have ever heard in my entire life.”

“hey!” you yell, grabbing a stray pillow from his bed and throwing it at his chest. your face is practically purple with embarrassment. “i told you i was bad at this!”

jay catches the pillow effortlessly, still laughing. “bad? newbie, that wasn’t just bad. that was completely goofy. you sounded like a cartoon villain trying to seduce a detective. and what was that hair flip? did you have a muscle spasm?”

“stop laughing at me!” you hide your face in your hands, completely mortified. “this was a mistake. i’m leaving.”

“no, stay, sit down,” jay says, his laughter finally dying down into a wide, bright grin. he tosses the pillow back onto the bed and leans in closer, his voice dropping into a softer, playful murmur. “i'm sorry, i shouldn't laugh. it was honestly kind of endearing. but we definitely have our work cut out for us.”

you peek through your fingers at him, pouty and defensive. “fine. how am i supposed to say it, mr. expert?”

jay shifts in his chair, his entire demeanor changing in a split second. the laughter vanishes, replaced by a smooth, magnetic confidence that makes your breath hitch. he looks at you, his eyes dropping to your lips for a microsecond before rising back to your eyes. a small, knowing grin plays at the corner of his mouth.

“if i say ‘i like your outfit,’ you don’t act like a theater kid,” jay says softly, his voice a low, teasing purr that makes goosebumps break out on your arms. “you look him right in the eye, hold it for a second, smile just a little bit, and say… ‘thanks. i wore it hoping you’d notice.’”

you stare at him, your mouth slightly open, completely paralyzed by how smoothly he delivered the line. the air in the dorm suddenly feels incredibly thick, the playful atmosphere from a second ago completely evaporating into something heavy and charged.

jay holds your gaze for a beat longer, making sure the lesson lands, before breaking the tension with a quiet chuckle. he taps his fingers against his knee, leaning back in his chair. “see the difference? subtle. playful. now, let’s try it again. and this time, keep your hair exactly where it is.”

you swallow the lump in your throat, trying desperately to shake off the weird shiver that just ran down your spine. he’s just demonstrating, you remind yourself. he does this for fun.

“okay,” you mutter, pulling your knees up to your chest on his bed and trying to center yourself. “subtle. no theater-kid energy. got it.”

“alright. take two,” jay says, his expression shifting back into that smooth, predatory calm. he locks his eyes onto yours. “hey. i like your outfit.”

you force yourself not to look away. you look at his dark eyes, then let your gaze drop slightly to his lips — just like he did — before looking back up. you attempt a small, knowing smile, though your heart is hammering against your ribs.

“thanks,” you say, your voice a little softer than usual, a little more genuine. “i wore it hoping you’d notice.”

jay doesn't laugh this time. he stays perfectly still, his eyes tracking the slight tremor in your bottom lip. for a second, his grin falters, replaced by a sharp, intense curiosity that makes your stomach do a violent flip. then, the lazy crooked smile creeps back onto his face, and he nods approvingly.

“better,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “way better. see? you don’t need to put on a performance. guys like jake — and guys like me — we can tell when a girl is trying too hard. authenticity is hotter than any script you could write. you just have to let yourself feel the tension instead of running away from it.”

the rest of the hour goes by in a blur of intense eye contact and brutal, playful critiques. jay puts you through a dozen different scenarios. he teaches you how to respond to a compliment without deflecting it, how to use a quiet pause in conversation to your advantage, and how a simple change in posture can make you look completely magnetic.

he doesn't miss a single chance to tease you, though. every time you stumble over your words or give a goofy response, he boops your nose with his pen or groans dramatically into his hands. but by the time the alarm on his phone buzzes to signal the end of the hour, you realize something shocking: you aren’t so uncomfortable anymore. you’re actually laughing with him.

“alright, session one complete,” jay says, standing up and stretching his arms over his head, pulling his hoodie up just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his toned stomach. you quickly look away, your face heating up again. he catches you, of course, and just smirks. “homework for tonight: practice looking people in the eye. the cashier at the dining hall, your professors, yunjin. don’t look down.”

“fine, professor park,” you roll your eyes, sliding off his bed and grabbing your bag. “thanks. for not totally giving up on me.”

“i don't give up on my projects, newbie,” he says, walking you to the door. he opens it, leaning against the frame and looking down at you with a soft, surprisingly warm expression. “see you in two days. don't overthink it.”

“i'll try,” you murmur, giving him a small wave before turning and walking down the hallway.

the walk back to your apartment is a long one, and the cool evening air does nothing to calm the frantic state of your brain. you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself, your sneakers clicking rhythmically against the pavement as you re-read every single moment of the last hour in your head.

your mind is a chaotic mess of conflicting thoughts.

first of all, jay was right. the theoretical approach did help. just understanding the mechanics of how to hold a gaze and how to drop your voice made you feel like a secret weapon was being built inside you. you find yourself imagining using those exact tricks on jake next tuesday at the café. you imagine looking jake in the eye, holding his gaze, and saying something subtle and confident. the thought makes your stomach flutter with a nervous, happy anticipation. it’s exactly what you wanted.

but as you cross the street near the campus green, another thought creeps in, unbidden and entirely unwelcome.

jay.

you pull a breath into your lungs, a strange, tight feeling in your chest. you had gone into that room completely terrified of him, expecting a cold, arrogant guy who would judge your total lack of experience. instead, he had been… patient. incredibly observant. and so frustratingly attractive that it felt like a safety hazard.

when he had delivered that line — i wore it hoping you’d notice — the look in his eyes hadn't felt like a lesson at all. it had felt entirely too real. the way his voice had dropped, the way he had effortlessly controlled the energy in the room… it was terrifying how easily he could manipulate your feelings with just a shift in his posture.

he’s a professional, you remind yourself sternly, walking up the steps to your apartment building. he has a reputation for a reason. he’s doing this to help you with jake. do not confuse the lines.

yet, as you unlock your front door and hear yunjin yelling something from the kitchen, you can’t shake the memory of jay’s lazy, knowing smirk from your mind. you had spent weeks stressing yourself sick over jake sim, but as you step into your apartment, you realize with a sudden wave of panic that learning how to play the game with jay park might be a hundred times more dangerous.

-------

two days later, you find yourself back outside room 314. you don't even need to take three deep breaths this time — only two.

when jay opens the door, he’s wearing a faded vintage band tee and dark jeans, looking like he just rolled out of bed but somehow still managed to look effortlessly attractive. he takes one look at your face, steps back to let you in, and closes the door with a quiet click.

“welcome back, newbie,” he says, a lazy grin already spreading across his face. “did you do your homework? did you look the dining hall lady in the eye, or did you stare at your tater tots again?”

“i looked her straight in the eye,” you say proudly, tossing your tote bag onto his desk chair. “she looked confused, but i didn’t look down once.”

“proud of you,” jay chuckles, walking over to his mini-fridge to grab a bottle of water. he takes a sip before turning his full attention to you, his eyes sweeping over your outfit before locking onto yours. “alright, today is lesson two. we’re graduating from eye contact. today is all about compliments, voice tone, and what i like to call ‘innocent’ touching. leaning in, brushing an arm, breaking the physical barrier without making it a big deal. ready?”

you nod, though your stomach does a familiar little nervous flip. “ready.”

“good. sit on the bed,” jay commands smoothly, pulling his desk chair over so he’s sitting directly across from you again, only this time, he hitches the chair closer. his knees are barely a few inches from yours. the proximity alone makes the air feel instantly thick. “let’s start with compliments and tone. a lot of girls think giving a compliment means squealing and saying ‘oh my god your hair looks so good today!’ that’s friend-zone energy. jake doesn't need another cheerleader. he needs to know you see him as a man. understand?”

“yeah,” you murmur, swallowing hard.

“so, voice tone is everything. drop your volume. speak from your chest, not your throat. make him lean in to hear you,” jay instructs, his own voice dropping into that low, gravelly pitch that makes your ears tingle. “let’s try it. i walk up to you. i’m jake. i’m wearing a nice cologne. compliment me.”

you take a second to clear your throat, trying to channel your inner siren. you lean forward slightly, look him in the eye, and speak in what you think is a sultry whisper. “wow, jay. you smell really… nice. like a tree.”

jay blinks. the room is dead silent for three seconds.

then, he lets out a sharp, breathless laugh, burying his face in his hands. “like a tree? like a tree? oh my god, newbie, please tell me you’re joking.”

“it’s sandalwood!” you protest, your face instantly turning a furious shade of crimson as you grab his pillow again, though this time he anticipates it and firmly plants a hand on it before you can throw it. “you literally smell like sandalwood and cedar! that’s a tree!”

“you sound like a park ranger,” jay groans, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he pulls the pillow out of your hands. “and your voice went all breathy and weird at the end, like you were running out of oxygen. i said drop your pitch, not sound like you have asthma.”

“i told you i’m bad at this!” you whine, burying your burning face in your hands. “this is why i’m a virgin, jay. i have negative game.”

“hey, look at me,” jay says, his voice softening, though the vibrant amusement is still dancing in his dark eyes. he gently reaches out and taps your wrist until you drop your hands from your face. “it’s fine. that’s why you’re here. let’s try it again, but don’t think about the specific words. don’t describe the scent. just focus on how it makes you feel. and keep the voice steady. smooth. try it.”

you take a deep breath, looking into his eyes. you wait a beat, letting the silence stretch just like he taught you in lesson one. then, keeping your voice low and stable, you say, “you smell really good today. it’s distracting.”

jay pauses. his smirk falters for a fraction of a second, his eyes darkening just a tiny bit as he processes the delivery. a slow, appreciative smile replaces his laughter. “there we go. that’s the tone. smooth, grounded, a little bit dangerous. jake would literally lose his mind if you said that to him.”

a rush of pride swells in your chest. you actually did it.

“alright, now let’s add the physical element,” jay says, leaning back slightly but keeping his eyes locked onto yours. “innocent touching is all about making it look accidental. it has to look accidental, but feel intentional. a brush of the shoulder when you laugh, a lingering touch on the arm when you’re emphasizing a point. it makes the moments stick, you know? let’s combine them. give me that same compliment, but this time, i want you to break the physical barrier.”

your heart restarts its frantic rhythm. touching him wasn’t part of the original plan, but this is entirely safe — just an arm, just a shoulder. theoretical practice in action.

“okay,” you whisper.

you look at him. you focus on your breathing, trying to get rid of the tension in your shoulders. you lean in slightly, your eyes dropping to his lips before rising back to his eyes. you reach your hand out, your fingers trembling just a fraction, and gently brush your fingertips against his forearm, letting them linger on the soft fabric of his sleeve.

“you smell really good today,” you say softly, your voice perfectly steady this time. “it’s distracting.”

you expect jay to pull back, or to laugh, or to give you another critique. instead, jay doesn't even flinch. he doesn't get nervous at all; if anything, the touch seems to ground him. his eyes track your hand on his arm, and then slowly, deliberately, he tilts his head, a devastatingly handsome, wicked grin pulling at his lips.

he doesn't break your touch. instead, he leans forward, bringing his face so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek.

“is it?” jay murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, completely turning the tables on you. “if you think my cologne is distracting, newbie… you’re never going to survive the rest of these lessons.”

your breath hitches completely. your heart thumps so hard against your ribs you’re certain he can hear it. he’s completely unbothered, completely in control, flirting back with an effortless grace that leaves you completely breathless.

“you… you cheated,” you squeak out, frantically pulling your hand back and sitting straight up, your face hot enough to fry an egg. “you’re not supposed to flirt back! you’re supposed to be jake!”

jay lets out a low, rich chuckle, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, looking immensely pleased with himself. “jake is going to flirt back, newbie. if a girl touched him like that and gave him that compliment, he wouldn't just sit there like a log. he’s going to lean in. you need to learn how to handle the counter-attack.”

you pout, crossing your arms defensively. “you’re just showing off.”

“maybe a little,” he admits, his eyes crinkling with that playful, arrogant charm. “but you did great. seriously. the touch was perfect — light, lingering, just enough to make a guy notice. let’s try another one. this time, let’s practice the ‘laugh and lean.’ when i say something funny, you lean in, laugh naturally, and let your shoulder brush mine. let’s see if you can handle it without panicking.”

for the next hour, the room feels like a battlefield of tension and laughter. you practice over and over again. you try leaning in to whisper something “secretive” in his ear, your breath brushing against his neck, which makes jay’s jaw tighten for a brief second before he recovers with a smooth, teasing remark. you practice brushing a stray piece of lint off his shoulder, letting your fingers drag slowly down his chest.

every time you do it well, jay praises you, his voice warm and encouraging, but he never lets you get too comfortable. he always pushes back — catching your wrist gently, leaning into your space, or dropping a low, dangerous compliment right back to test your boundaries. he doesn't get flustered, but you notice that as the lesson goes on, his jokes get a little quieter, his smirks a little softer, and his dark eyes stay locked onto yours with an intensity that makes it harder and harder to remember that this is just a game.

“alright,” jay finally says, his voice a bit rough as he checks his phone. “that’s enough torturing you for one day.”

you sink back against his pillows, completely exhausted but tingling with a weird, electric energy. “i think i actually did okay today.”

“you did better than okay,” jay says, standing up and looking down at you. he reaches out, and for a second, you think he’s going to tease you again, but instead, he gently runs his thumb over the side of your cheek, a surprisingly tender gesture that makes your heart stop. “you’re a quick learner, newbie. jake won’t know what hit him.”

he pulls his hand back smoothly, leaving your skin tingling where his thumb had just been. he walks to the door, opening it with that signature, lazy smirk.

“go home, get some rest. next lesson, we’re talking about kissing mechanics. try not to lose sleep over it.”

you scramble off the bed, grabbing your bag and practically running past him into the hallway, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm as his quiet laughter follows you down the corridor.

the next monday, you’re sitting in the back row of your lecture hall, pretending to take notes on a PowerPoint about microeconomics. in reality, you’ve just been drawing mindless spirals in the margin of your notebook, your brain completely occupied by the memory of jay’s thumb brushing against your cheek.

“next lesson, we’re talking about kissing mechanics.”

the memory of his low, rough voice echoes in your head, making you shiver despite the aggressive air conditioning in the auditorium.

suddenly, a sharp elbow digs into your ribs.

“you’re doing a new thing,” yunjin whispers loudly, leaning over the shared desk. she has her laptop open, but instead of notes, she has a blank word document filled with a massive, stylized question mark. “the ‘staring into the abyss like you’re trying to decode the matrix’ thing. spill. now.”

“shh,” you hiss, keeping your eyes glued to the professor. “we’re in the middle of class.”

“the professor is seventy-five and doesn’t have his hearing aids turned up, babe. talk,” yunjin demands, sliding her chair a microscopic inch closer to yours. her eyes narrow, her strawberry lip gloss catching the fluorescent lights as she tilts her head. “it’s been days. you’ve been acting weirdly quiet, you didn’t spiral once this weekend, and you’ve been practicing weirdly intense eye contact with the barista at the campus cafe. which means… the lessons started. how is jay park?”

your face immediately flares up, the heat rising rapidly from your neck to your cheeks. you grab your highlighter and aggressively color over a random definition on your paper. “it’s fine. it’s going fine.”

“‘it’s fine’ does not make a girl turn the color of a fire hydrant,” yunjin points out, a massive, predatory grin spreading across her face. she leans in so close her coconut-scented hair brushes your shoulder. “oh my god. did you guys do it? did he break his rule? did you break the no-fucking clause already? details, give me details!”

“no! oh my god, no!” you whisper-yell, frantically looking around to see if any of the athletes in the row ahead of you heard. luckily, they’re all asleep. you drop your voice to a desperate, tiny whisper. “we didn’t do anything. i told you, it’s completely theoretical. he promised.”

“okay, okay, keeping it professional. i respect it,” yunjin says, waving a dismissive hand, though her eyes are still dancing with intense curiosity. “so what exactly happens in a ‘theoretical’ sex lesson with jay park? does he use a whiteboard? powerpoint slides?”

“no,” you mumble, hiding the lower half of your face behind your hand. “he… we just sit in his dorm. he makes me practice scenarios. the first lesson was just eye contact and light teasing. he basically told me i have the flirting skills of a cartoon villain.”

yunjin bursts out into a short, choked laugh, quickly covering her mouth with her sleeve when the professor coughs. “i mean, he’s not wrong, babe. remember freshman year when you tried to wink at that guy on the club team and looked like you were having a neurological event?”

“i’m better now!” you defend yourself, your voice tight. “jay fixed it. well, he’s fixing it. we had lesson two a couple days ago.”

yunjin leans in even closer, her notebook completely forgotten. “and? what was lesson two?”

“compliments. voice tone. and… innocent touching,” you whisper, your chest tightening just thinking about it. “like, leaning in and brushing his arm. or laughing and letting our shoulders touch.”

yunjin’s jaw literally drops. she stares at you, her eyes wide. “wait. you touched jay park? the guy who usually looks like he’ll have you legally removed from his presence if you breathe his oxygen? how did he react? did he flinch?”

“no, that’s the thing,” you groan, burying your face in your notebook for a second before looking back at her miserably. “he didn't flinch at all. yunjin, he’s completely immune to me. when i gave him the compliment and touched his arm, i thought i did a really good job. i dropped my voice, i held his gaze, all of it. but then he just… he didn't even blink. he just leaned all the way into my face and flirted back. he said something like, ‘if you think my cologne is distracting, newbie, you’re never going to survive the rest of these lessons.’”

yunjin lets out a low, silent gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. “oh my god. newbie? he calls you newbie? that is so disgustingly hot, i think i’m going to throw up.”

“it’s not hot, it’s terrifying!” you whined, chewing on the cap of your pen. “he is so effortlessly in control of the room. every time i think i’m getting the hang of it, he just raises the stakes to test if i’ll panic. he spent the whole hour praising me when i did it right, but then he'd immediately counter-attack to show me how a guy would react. by the end of it, my heart was beating so hard i thought i was going to pass out.”

yunjin studies your face, her playful demeanor shifting into something a bit more analytical, a small, knowing grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “and what about jake? are you thinking about jake when you’re doing all this?”

the question catches you completely off guard. you pause, your pen hovering over the paper.

“i… yeah,” you say, though the answer feels a little delayed, a little less certain than it should be. “of course i am. the whole point of this is so i don’t ruin things with jake. i keep imagining using the tricks on him.”

“right. of course,” yunjin says softly, though the look she gives you is incredibly perceptive. she taps her chin. “so, what’s next on the syllabus, student of the year?”

you swallow hard, the bell suddenly ringing to signal the end of the lecture. you pack your laptop into your bag with slightly trembling hands, refusing to look yunjin in the eye as you mutter the final detail.

“kissing mechanics. we’re doing kissing next.”

yunjin pauses mid-stride as you both walk out into the crowded hallway, a massive, thrilled grin spreading across her face. “oh, babe. you are playing with actual fireworks. good luck surviving that one.”

-------

the next afternoon, you find yourself walking back up the stairs of the west quad. your nerves are completely fried, mostly because yunjin’s warning about "playing with fireworks" has been looping in your brain for the last twenty-four hours. kissing mechanics. the words alone make your pulse skyrocket.

when jay opens the door to room 314, he’s wearing a fitted black t-shirt and charcoal grey cargo pants. he looks you up and down, a faint, amused smile lingering on his lips. "come on in, newbie."

you step into the familiar, sandalwood-scented space and immediately drop your bag by his desk, hopping onto the edge of his bed. before he can even sit down in his usual chair, the words start spilling out of your mouth in an anxious rush.

"okay, so something happened," you blurts out, waving your hands around. "jake came up to me yesterday at the student union. he was wearing his soccer jersey and he literally leaned against my locker and told me my hair looked pretty."

jay pauses, capping his water bottle and looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "and? did you use the eye contact?"

"yes! i held his gaze for like, five whole seconds," you say proudly, leaning forward. "and then i tried to do the subtle, playful voice thing you taught me. i looked at his jersey and said, 'thanks, you don't look too bad yourself.' but jay, the second the words left my mouth, i panicked. i got so incredibly awkward. i think my shoulders went up to my ears, and i literally backed into the locker door so hard it made a loud clanging sound."

jay stares at you for a beat, and then he breaks. he covers his mouth with his hand, his shoulders shaking as a deep, breathless laugh escapes him. "you backed into a locker? newbie, please tell me you didn't."

"i did!" you groan, burying your face in his pillows. "it was terrible. but… the weird part is, it might not have ruined everything? he’s been texting me literally all day today. look."

you scramble to pull out your phone, unlocking it and flashing the screen at him. there’s a string of text messages from jake, filled with emojis and casual questions about your week.

jay steps closer, leaning down slightly to look at the screen. his eyes scan the notifications, and a low, thoughtful hum hums in his throat. he straightens back up, crossing his arms over his chest, his playful smirk turning into a highly analytical expression.

"okay, first of all, the text volume is good. he's definitely hooked," jay says, tilting his head. "but based on your little locker incident, i'm officially changing the syllabus for today."

you peek up from the pillow. "wait, what? aren't we doing kissing mechanics today?"

"absolutely not," jay says smoothly, a wicked, completely teasing grin spreading across his sharp features. "no offense, newbie, but if you're still crashing into structural steel because a guy complimented your hair, you are legally not ready for the kissing lesson. you'd probably faint on him."

"hey!" you protest, sitting straight up and kicking your legs out, though you can't help the blush spreading across your face. "i was just caught off guard!"

"exactly. which is why we need to build your confidence up through texts and pictures first," jay says, walking over to his closet and leaning his shoulder against the frame. "given how much he's texting you right now, it’s the perfect opportunity. so, lesson three: how to dress sexier, body language upkeep, and sending suggestive texts and photos."

your jaw drops. "photos? like… selfies?"

"relax, i don't mean nudes," jay scoffs playfully, rolling his eyes. "i mean the kind of photos that make a guy stare at his phone for ten minutes straight. subtle hints. showing off your collarbone, an arched back, a casual half-smile. the kind of stuff that says 'i'm not trying,' even though you absolutely are."

he walks over to your bag and picks it up, tossing it onto the bed next to you. "dump it out. let’s see what clothes you brought today, and then we're going to fix your text game."

for the next hour, jay takes his role entirely too seriously. he makes you stand up to practice your posture — forcing your shoulders down, teaching you how to subtly arch your back when you're sitting so your silhouette looks sharper, and showing you how to cross your legs to elongate your frame.

then comes the text interrogation. he sits right next to you on the bed, his shoulder pressing against yours, looking over your screen as you type.

"no, delete that exclamation point. it makes you sound too eager," jay commands, his thumb reaching over to tap your screen. "type this instead: 'busy right now, but i might have time for you later.' it creates mystery. it makes him want to compete for your attention."

"isn't that a little mean?" you ask, looking up at him.

"it's not mean, it's a hook," jay murmurs, his dark eyes fixed on yours from mere inches away. "trust me. watch how fast he replies."

you hit send. less than thirty seconds later, jake replies: 'what are you up to? let me know when you're free x'.

you stare at the screen in absolute shock. "oh my god. you're a wizard."

"i'm a guy. i know how our brains work," jay smirks, entirely pleased with himself. "now, let's seal the deal. we're sending a photo. stand up."

you get up, your heart doing a nervous dance as jay picks up your phone. he walks you over to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of his door, positioning you just right where the warm afternoon light hits your face.

"your sweater is too high. pull it slightly off one shoulder," jay instructs, his voice dropping into that focused, professional tone.

you hesitantly tug the knit fabric down, exposing your collarbone. jay steps behind you, looking at your reflection in the mirror. he frowns slightly, stepping closer until his chest is almost pressed against your back. he reaches out, his warm, large hands gently gripping your waist to adjust your posture, tilting your hips just a fraction.

"don't look directly at the camera like a deer in headlights," jay murmurs near your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "look slightly down, tilt your chin up. think about something that makes you feel good."

your whole body feels like it's on fire from his touch. your reflection in the mirror shows your cheeks flushed a deep pink, your eyes dark and wide. jay raises your phone, snapping a few photos. he pulls away smoothly, scrolling through the gallery before handing the phone back to you.

you look at the screen and literally gasp. the photo doesn't even look like you. it looks incredibly soft, effortless, and undeniably sexy. your collarbone stands out, your lips are slightly parted, and the flush on your cheeks looks intentional.

"send him that one," jay says, leaning back against his desk and crossing his arms, watching your reaction with an intensely satisfied smirk. "and don't add a caption. just let him suffer."

you hit send, your hands shaking. almost instantly, the typing bubbles appear from jake's contact.

they bounce up and down, then disappear, then start up again. jake is clearly panicking on the other end, deleting and rewriting his response just like you had done nights ago.

jay steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to look down at the screen. his chest gently brushes your back, the warm, clean scent of his sandalwood cologne enveloping you completely. “look at that,” he murmurs, his voice a low, vibrating rumble right next to your ear. “he’s losing his mind. i told you.”

finally, the text comes through.

jake: oh wow. you look really pretty. where are you?

you automatically start typing a reply, your fingers flying across the keyboard. i’m just hanging out at a friend’s dorm.

“stop, stop, stop,” jay says, his hand suddenly coming down over yours to physically halt your thumbs. his palms are warm and broad, completely wrapping around your hands. a jolt of electricity zaps straight up your arms. he doesn't pull away immediately; instead, he slowly guides your hands down, forcing you to lower the phone. “what did i say about theater-kid energy? you’re giving away too much information, newbie. you’re killing the mystery.”

“but he asked where i am!” you protest, looking up at him over your shoulder. your faces are incredibly close, so close you can count the dark lashes framing his piercing eyes.

jay just smiles, that slow, devastatingly confident grin that makes him look entirely too in control. he reaches out and smoothly takes the phone right out of your fingers. “he doesn’t get to know where you are. he didn't earn that yet. right now, he’s sitting in his room staring at a photo of your bare shoulder. we need to lean into that.”

he taps the screen, typing out a message with one hand while keeping his eyes locked on yours. “if he asks where you are, you don’t give him a location. you give him a tease.”

he turns the phone around to show you what he wrote.

you: somewhere you’re not. 😉

your jaw drops. “jay! that is so forward! i can't say that!”

“you didn't say it, i did. now watch,” he says, tapping send before you can grab the device back.

you watch the screen in an agony of suspense. the response from jake is almost instantaneous this time.

jake: that’s not fair. maybe i want to be there.

your breath hitches. jake has never talked to you like this before. usually, his texts are sweet, casual, and safe. jay’s little formula is completely shifting the dynamic, turning a simple crush into a high-stakes game of cat and mouse.

“see?” jay says, his tone dripping with playful smugness as he slides the phone back into your hands. he leans his hip against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms and looking down at you. “he’s chasing now. when a guy says ‘maybe i want to be there,’ he’s testing the waters. he wants to see if the door is open. so, what do you do?”

“i… i tell him he can come over?” you guess, completely out of your depth.

jay groans, tossing his head back dramatically. “no! god, newbie, you’re trying to speed-run this. if you invite him over now, you’re giving up all your power. you have to make him work for it. keep him on his toes.”

he steps back into your personal space, the playful arrogance in his eyes shifting into something focused and instructional. he grabs your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up so you’re forced to look directly into his dark eyes.

“this is the suggestive texting masterclass,” jay explains softly, his thumb lightly brushing the sensitive skin of your jawline. “you always want to imply a double meaning. you want him to read your texts and wonder if you’re being totally innocent or incredibly dirty. it keeps his mind completely occupied with thoughts of you.”

he lets go of your chin, but the ghost of his touch leaves a burning trail on your skin. he points at your phone. “type this: ‘i don’t know, jake. i’m kind of a handful. not sure you could handle it.’”

your fingers are practically sweating as you type out the words exactly as he dictated. you hit send.

the typing bubbles appear immediately.

jake: try me. i’m pretty good at handling things.

you let out a soft, choked gasp, completely floored by the sheer boldness of jake's reply. your face is burning hot, your heart hammering against your ribs. you look up at jay, wide-eyed and completely breathless. “oh my god. it worked. it actually worked.”

jay doesn't look surprised at all. if anything, he’s studying your reaction with an intense, quiet curiosity. his eyes drop to your flushed cheeks, then down to your parted lips, before slowly rising back to meet your gaze. the playful, teasing smirk slowly fades from his face, replaced by a heavy, unreadable expression.

“of course it worked,” jay murmurs, his voice suddenly dropping into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight through your chest. he steps a fraction closer, completely erasing the distance between you until your clothes are almost brushing. “you’re a beautiful girl, newbie. when you actually give a guy a green light, he’s going to run straight through it.”

the air in the dorm room becomes completely stagnant, thick with a sudden, suffocating wave of tension. jay is looking at you with an intensity that has absolutely nothing to do with jake sim. his gaze feels heavy, physical, like a hand tracing the curve of your neck. for a terrifying, thrilling second, you forget all about your phone, all about jake’s texts, and all about the rules of these lessons.

you stare up at him, your heart in your throat, completely paralyzed by how easily he can shift the gravity in the room.

jay holds your gaze for one more lingering, breathless second. then, just as quickly as it appeared, the heavy tension snaps. a lazy, familiar smirk creeps back onto his sharp features, and he steps back, breaking the spell.

“alright, lock your phone,” jay says, tapping the top of your head playfully. “that’s enough digital damage for today. leave him on read for a few hours. let him stew in his own thoughts while he waits for you to reply.”

you quickly lock your screen, nodding dumbly as you try to force your lungs to remember how to breathe normally.

“lesson three concluded,” jay says, walking over to the door and swinging it open, looking entirely unbothered by the emotional hurricane he just caused in your chest. he gives you a sharp, teasing wink. “next time, newbie… we’re finally doing kissing mechanics. don’t forget to practice your posture before then.”

-------

four days pass, and your life feels like it has been completely split into two entirely different realities.

on one side of the screen, there’s the jake sim reality. and to your absolute shock, jay’s blueprint is working flawlessly. jake has been pursuing you with a fervor that leaves you dizzy. when you see him on campus now, he doesn't just give you a sweet, friendly wave from across the quad. he actively detours to walk with you to class. when you talk, his eyes don't wander; they stay locked onto your face, and he looks at you with this intense, focused hunger that makes your stomach do backflips.

last night, he texted you out of nowhere at 11:00 p.m. just to say he saw a sweater in a store window that reminded him of the photo you sent, adding a little tongue-in-cheek comment about how he's still waiting to find out where "somewhere you're not" is.

it's everything you wanted. you're finally getting the boy you’ve been pining over since freshman orientation. you should be ecstatic. you should be texting yunjin in a flurry of capital letters and celebratory emojis.

but instead, you find yourself staring at your bedroom ceiling in the dead of night, feeling completely untethered.

the truth is a terrifying, heavy weight in your chest, and admitting it to yourself feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. because every time jake texts you, a tiny, dark voice in the back of your mind whispers that it isn’t actually your game he’s falling for. it’s jay’s. you’re just the actress reciting lines written by a boy who understands the mechanics of desire like the back of his hand.

and then there's the next lesson.

kissing mechanics.

your stomach drops into a cold abyss every time you think about it. you’re terrified. actual, physical kissing is a universe away from just holding eye contact or letting your shoulders brush during a laugh. it means jay’s hands on you. it means his face inches from yours, his lips touching yours, his sharp jawline, his heavy, low breathing. even if it’s entirely "theoretical" — even if he's just using his fingers to map out where to press or demonstrating the pacing on a pillow or explaining the biology of how a guy reacts — the mere thought of being that close to him makes your chest tighten until it hurts.

but beneath the suffocating layers of panic, there is an even darker, more humiliating truth that you barely have the courage to acknowledge in the privacy of your own head.

you were disappointed.

when you walked into room 314 a few days ago, fully braced for the kissing lesson, your heart had been pounding because you thought you were finally going to cross that terrifying physical threshold with him. and when jay had laughed, called you a newbie, and casually pushed the lesson back because you "weren't ready," a sudden, sharp pang of rejection had sliced right through you.

you had spent the rest of that afternoon acting annoyed and pouty, but deep down, your skin had been practically begging for the exact thing you claimed to be afraid of. you had wanted him to look at you and decide you were ready. you had wanted to know what his lips felt like, even if it was just a clinical demonstration.

it's a dangerous, toxic thought. jay is your tutor. he’s sunghoon’s best friend, a guy known for his selective, zero-strings-attached reputation, and he is actively helping you construct a trap to catch jake. confusing your feelings now would be absolute social suicide. it would ruin everything.

you roll onto your side, pulling your blanket tightly around your shoulders as you look at your phone. tomorrow afternoon is the day. there are no more text modules left to practice. no more posture corrections or wardrobe updates.

tomorrow, you have to look jay park in the eye and let him teach you how to kiss.

and as you close your eyes, trying to force yourself to sleep, you realize with a jolt of pure panic that you aren't sure which reality you're more afraid of anymore: the one where you finally kiss jake sim, or the one where you have to watch jay pull away from you when the lesson is over.

-------

the rain is drumming a steady rhythm against the glass of room 314 when you walk in. the afternoon light is weak, casting the dorm in a hazy, intimate shadow that immediately makes your throat feel dry. jay is sitting on the edge of his bed, his legs spread, hands loosely clasped between his knees. he’s wearing a soft, oversized gray crewneck sweater, looking entirely relaxed, while your nerves are stretched so tight they’re practically screaming.

“welcome back, newbie,” jay says, his voice softer than usual, matching the quiet hum of the rain. he tracks your movement as you set your bag down, his eyes lingering on your tense shoulders. “you look like you’re walking to the gallows.”

“i’m just… anticipating,” you mumble, sitting on the opposite end of the bed, pulling your knees to your chest.

jay watches you for a beat, a faint, understanding smile touching his lips. “right. lesson four. kissing mechanics.” he shifts, leaning back against his headboard, his expression turning professional, though his dark eyes retain that sharp, observant glint. “before we start, a reminder of the rules. we agreed on a strict blueprint. entirely theoretical. no physical interaction. i’m here to give you the breakdown so you can take it to jake. clear?”

“clear,” you say. you try to sound relieved. you try to make your voice bright and cooperative. but a small, involuntary drop in your tone betrays you, a tiny hesitation that doesn’t escape his notice. a sudden, heavy wave of disappointment washes through you, sharp and humiliating, and you hate yourself for feeling it. you should be grateful for the boundary, but your skin feels suddenly cold.

jay’s eyes narrow slightly, analyzing the split-second change in your expression, but he doesn't comment on it. instead, he clears his throat and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“alright. let’s break down the mechanics,” jay begins, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that always makes your pulse spike. “kissing isn’t just about the lips, newbie. if you just dive in, it’s clumsy. it starts with the pacing. when jake leans in, you don’t rush to meet him halfway. you let him do the work. you tilt your chin up, keep your lips slightly parted — just a fraction — and breathe out softly. it signals invitation.”

you nod, trying to memorize the words, but your brain is panicking because jay is demonstrating the head tilt himself, his sharp jawline defining itself in the dim amber light of his desk lamp.

“when the actual contact happens, you start slow,” jay continues, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that feels almost physical. “it’s a gentle pressure. one lip tucked between his. you hold it for a beat, let the warmth build, and then you shift. it’s a rhythm. you use your hands — remember lesson two? — you let your fingers rest right on the side of his neck, just below the jaw. your thumb rests on his cheekstone. it stabilizes the movement, and it drives a guy absolutely crazy because it feels grounding.”

as he speaks, jay mimics the hand placement in the air, his long, elegant fingers moving with a slow grace that makes you track them like a hawk. the air in the room is growing increasingly thick, the space between you on the mattress suddenly feeling incredibly small.

“now,” jay murmurs, his gaze dropping to your lips for a heavy, unhurried second before rising back to your eyes. “let’s practice the approach. the build-up of tension right before the lips touch is fifty percent of the kiss. if you panic there, the whole thing is ruined.”

he slides down the mattress, closing the distance between you until he’s sitting cross-legged directly in front of you. your knees are practically brushing.

“i’m going to act as if i’m going to kiss you,” jay instructs softly, his playful arrogance completely gone, replaced by a quiet, suffocating gravity. “i’m going to get close. your job is to hold eye contact, keep your breathing steady, and do not pull away. understand?”

“yes,” you whisper, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs you’re certain he can hear it.

“look at me,” he commands gently.

you look up. jay leans in slowly.

the world outside the window completely ceases to exist. his movements are deliberate, agonizingly drawn out, giving your brain time to register every single detail. you see the dark depth of his eyes, the slight curve of his nose, the perfect, soft shape of his lips. he tilts his head to the side, a fraction of an inch, mapping out the angle perfectly.

closer. you can smell the rich, intoxicating scent of his sandalwood cologne mixed with the clean scent of his skin.

closer. his chest is almost touching yours, the warmth radiating off his body enveloping you in a heat wave. your breath catches in your throat, your lips parting automatically, exactly the way he taught you. your eyes flutter, desperately wanting to close, but you force them to stay open, locked onto his.

he stops.

his lips are barely half an inch from yours. you can feel the literal heat of his breath brushing against your skin, hovering right over your mouth. the tension in the microscopic space between you is a physical, electric current, pulling at you, begging you to lean forward just a millimeter to erase the agony of the distance. your heart is in your throat. you are completely paralyzed, drowning in the proximity of him.

jay stays perfectly still for three agonizing, breathless seconds, his gaze raking over your eyes, your nose, your trembling mouth. his jaw tightens, a sudden, fierce flash of hunger crossing his features before he forces it down.

slowly, deliberately, jay pulls back. the sudden rush of cool air between you feels like a physical shock. he sits straight up, clearing his throat, though his breathing is visibly shallower than it was five minutes ago.

“just like that,” jay says, his voice a little rough, a little strained. “you held the gaze. you didn't panic. do that with jake, and he’ll—”

the mention of jake’s name feels like a bucket of ice water, snapping something inside you. you look at jay — at his parted lips, his flushed neck, the sheer, unbothered control he’s trying to fake — and a sudden, reckless wave of desperation overrides every single rule, every single boundary, and every shred of your common sense.

and then something you would've never expected comes out of your mouth:

“jay, can you give me a practical example?”

the words hang in the air. jay freezes, his usual smirk vanishing. and for the first time since you walked into room 314, jay park looks completely caught off guard. his dark eyes widen just a fraction, his posture locking up as he stares at you in absolute silence. he stares at your face like he’s waiting for you to say you’re joking. the only sound in the room is the sound of the rain against the windowpane.

“what?” he asks, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. he tilts his head, blinking down at you like he’s entirely convinced his ears are playing tricks on him. “what did you just say, newbie?”

the sudden realization of what just tumbled out of your mouth hits you like a physical blow. your stomach plummets, and a fierce, blinding heat instantly erupts across your cheeks, burning all the way down to your neck. you instinctively try to pull your knees tighter to your chest, wanting nothing more than to shrink into a microscopic atom and disappear into the mattress.

“i… um,” you squeak out, your voice dropping to a mortified, breathless whisper. you look down at your hands, your fingers frantically twisting the fabric of your pajama pants. “i said… can you give me a practical example? like… a real one.”

jay doesn't move. he just stays cross-legged in front of you, absorbing your words. then, slowly, the shock on his face melts away. a brilliant, wicked, and entirely amused grin spreads across his sharp features. he lets out a low, rich chuckle that vibrates deep in his chest, leaning back slightly on his hands as he studies your purple face.

“wow,” jay murmurs, his tone dripping with pure, unadulterated amusement. “the quiet girl strikes again. you really are full of surprises, aren't you?”

“stop laughing at me!” you whine, hiding your face in your hands. your heart is beating so hard you can feel it in your teeth. “i’m being serious! i’m trying to be logical about this!”

“logical?” jay teases, his voice filled with a quiet, shaking laughter. he reaches out and gently, but firmly, tugs your wrists away from your face so you’re forced to look at him. he doesn't let go of your hands, keeping his fingers loosely looped around your wrists. “okay, professor. please, explain the logic to me. i’m dying to hear this.”

you swallow hard, your eyes darting everywhere but his lips. you try to summon every ounce of justification your panicked brain can manufacture.

“well… because!” you stammer, your voice incredibly shy, filled with an embarrassed pitch. “you said it yourself! you said kissing is all about the rhythm and the pacing. and— and you said if i panic during the approach, the whole thing is ruined! how am i supposed to know if i’m going to panic with jake if i haven't actually practiced the real thing? what if my timing is completely off? what if i accidentally bump teeth with him, jay? that would be traumatizing!”

jay listens to your anxious, stuttering speech, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. he looks incredibly smug, entirely enjoying how completely flustered you are.

“so,” jay says slowly, a lazy, teasing purr in his voice as he lightly squeezes your wrists. “let me get this straight. purely for educational purposes… for my duties as your instructor… you think we should break the non-physical clause. for the sake of science.”

“yes!” you whisper-yell, your face burning hotter, if that was even physically possible. “it’s just… a hands-on lab! like chemistry class! it makes perfect sense!”

“chemistry, huh?” jay echoes, his voice dropping an octave, the vibrant laughter in his eyes shifting into something much darker, much more intense.

he slowly releases your wrists, but he doesn't move back. instead, he slides even closer on the mattress, completely invading your personal space until the heat radiating from his body wraps around you like a blanket. the playful, mocking expression of his face softens into something dangerous.

“you’re a terrible liar, newbie,” jay murmurs, his eyes dropping to your parted lips, staring at them for a long, unhurried second before rising back to yours. “you’re not thinking about jake sim’s teeth right now. and you’re definitely not thinking about science.”

your breath hitches completely, your voice trapped in your throat.

“but…” jay whispers, his hand slowly rising to cup the side of your face, his broad palm warm against your burning cheek, his thumb gently resting right on your cheekbone — exactly where he had just described a minute ago. “if you’re really that worried about failing your practical exam… i guess your teacher is just going to have to show you how it’s done.”

jay doesn't give you a chance to think, to backtrack, or to let the embarrassment completely swallow you whole.

his fingers anchor themselves gently behind your neck, his thumb still resting right on your cheekbone, stabilizing you exactly the way he had mapped out verbally just moments before. he leans in, but there is no hesitation this time. the agonizing half-inch of space between your lips vanishes in a split second.

when his lips first touch yours, a gasp catches in your throat, and jay uses that exact fraction of a second to deepen the pressure. his lips are incredibly soft but firm, moving against yours with a practiced, devastating slow rhythm. a full-body shiver ripples through you, your hands automatically reaching out to clutch at the fabric of his soft gray sweater just to keep yourself grounded.

“breathe, newbie,” jay whispers against your mouth, his voice a low, rough vibration that sends a jolt of pure electricity straight down your spine. “don't hold your breath. follow me, don't overthink it.”

he pulls back just a millimeter, letting the cool air hit your wet lips before tilting his head to a slightly different angle and sliding right back in. it's a gentle, heavy pressure. he tucks your lower lip between his, sucking on it so softly it makes a quiet, embarrassing sound echo in the quiet dorm room. you try to copy the movement, your lips parting a little more as you attempt to match his pace.

“there you go,” jay murmurs, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he praises you mid-kiss. his hand slides from your neck down to your shoulder, his broad palm squeezing gently through your clothes. “keep your hands right there. stay relaxed. you’re doing perfect.”

he leads you flawlessly, controlling the entire gravity of the moment. every time you feel like you're about to lose your mind from the sheer intensity of it, jay slows things down, lingering in a soft, pressing rhythm that lets you catch up. your eyes have completely fluttered shut now, the darkness making the sensation of his lips, his warm hands, and the intoxicating scent of his sandalwood cologne a thousand times more overwhelming. you lose all track of time, completely drowning in the heat of his mouth, forgetting about the rain outside, forgetting about the syllabus, forgetting about everything.

when jay finally draws back, he does it slowly, his lips brushing against yours one last time before he fully breaks the contact.

the sudden loss of warmth leaves you feeling completely dazed. you slowly blink your eyes open, your chest heaving as you try to force air back into your lungs. jay is still hovering inches away from your face. his dark hair is slightly messy, his own breathing is visibly shallower, and his usually perfectly composed lips are a dark, flushed red. he’s staring down at you with a heavy, unreadable gaze that is entirely devoid of his usual playful arrogance.

for three long seconds, neither of you says a word.

then, reality comes crashing back down on you with the force of a tidal wave.

oh my god. you just kissed jay park. you practically begged him to do it. you used a fake excuse about "science" and "chemistry class" just to get him to put his hands on you.

a massive, blinding wave of mortification slaps you across the face. your cheeks explode into a furious, bright purple flush. you instantly let go of his sweater as if it had turned into white-hot iron, scrambling backward on the mattress until your back hits his headboard. you pull your knees all the way to your chest, burying your face completely in your arms, a small, choked groan escaping your throat.

“hey,” jay’s smooth voice breaks the silence, a soft, familiar chuckle bubbling up in his chest. you hear the mattress shift as he slides closer to you. “what are you hiding for? you’re the one who demanded a practical exam, professor.”

“please don’t look at me,” you whine into your knees, your voice incredibly muffled and strained with pure embarrassment. “i am going to jump out of that window. i am actually going to die right here on your bed.”

“don’t die yet, we still have to grade you,” jay teases, his tone dropping into that lazy, effortless purr. you feel his long fingers gently tap the top of your head. “come on, look up. i promise i won’t tease you too bad.”

you slowly, hesitantly lift your chin just enough to peek at him through the gap in your arms. jay is sitting right there, leaning his elbow on his knee with his chin resting in his palm, watching you with an incredibly amused, knowing grin.

“so,” jay murmurs, his dark eyes locking onto your wide, panicked ones. “how was the lesson? did it help clarify the mechanics for you?”

“i… yes,” you squeak out, your face still burning hot.

you pull your arms tighter around your legs, your heart still hammering a rushed rhythm against your ribs. you are completely, thoroughly embarrassed — more humiliated than you have ever been in your entire life. but beneath the suffocating layers of shyness, as you look at jay's slightly curved lips, you feel a terrifyingly honest truth settling deep in your chest.

you liked it. you liked it a lot. in fact, you liked it so much that the mere thought of taking these newly learned "mechanics" and using them on jake sim suddenly felt entirely, completely impossible.

-------

you keep your mouth shut. you don’t tell yunjin. in fact, you don’t tell a single living soul.

when you get back to your shared apartment that evening, yunjin is sitting on the kitchen counter eating dry cereal straight from the box, her eyes instantly narrowing into little laser beams the second the front door clicks shut. you quickly mutter something about having a massive headache from the library lights, sprint into your bedroom, and lock the door behind you. if you open your mouth, even just to breathe, you’re terrified the taste of jay’s strawberry-and-mint lip balm will somehow manifest in the air and give you away.

you spend the next two days in a state of absolute, localized hysteria.

the embarrassment is a physical weight, pressing down on your chest until you feel lightheaded. you can't stop replaying the feeling of his broad palm cradling your jaw, the specific, gravelly pitch of his voice when he whispered “breathe, newbie,” and the agonizingly soft, rhythmic pull of his lips against yours. you had loved it. you had loved it so much that just thinking about it while sitting in a Tuesday morning lecture makes your stomach do a violent, hot flip.

and that’s not even the worst part. the worst part — the thing that is currently keeping you awake at 3:00 a.m. staring at your ceiling fan — is how the lesson had actually ended.

right before you had practically bolted out of his dorm room, your face still a catastrophic shade of purple, jay had stood by the door with his hands shoved casually into his cargo pants. he had looked down at you, that slow, devastatingly handsome smirk firmly back in place, and murmured: “since you passed your practical exam with such high marks, newbie… i’ll let you call the shots for lesson five. it can be anything you want. think about it.”

anything you want.

how are you supposed to walk back into room 314 on thursday afternoon, look jay park in his incredibly symmetrical, aristocratic face, and say: 'oh, yeah, hi, remember how i said i wanted to learn for science? well, the science was great, can we please just make out for another hour?'

you can’t. you literally cannot do that. it would destroy the flimsy, pathetic shield of "educational purposes" you’ve been hiding behind. it would mean admitting that you aren't a student trying to impress jake sim anymore; it would mean admitting that jay has completely, effortlessly rewired your brain in the span of three weeks.

speaking of jake, his reality is becoming increasingly harder to navigate. he texts you a picture of a coffee cup on Wednesday morning: 'at the café near the library. wish you were somewhere i am today.'

you stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. a week ago, a text like that would have made you scream into your pillow. it’s exactly what you wanted. it’s a direct reference to the tease jay helped you send him. but now, looking at the letters, all you can think about is jay’s chest pressed against your back, his warm hands adjusting your waist in front of the mirror, and his low voice telling you to let him suffer.

when you reply with a simple, sweet 'awkward timing, i'm stuck in a study group! next time x', it feels like you’re writing a script for a play you’ve completely lost interest in starring in.

by thursday afternoon, your anxiety has reached a fever pitch. you change your sweater twice, eventually settling on a high-necked, oversized crewneck that offers absolutely zero skin-to-air vulnerability. you walk up the stairs of the west quad like a prisoner marching to the electric chair, your knees feeling strangely hollow.

when you reach room 314, you stand outside the heavy wooden door for a full sixty seconds, your hand raised to knock, your heart hammering a rushed rhythm against your ribs.

just be normal, you tell yourself, closing your eyes tightly. ask him to practice advanced flirting. ask him to break down how to read body language across a crowded room. do not look at his mouth. do not think about his hands.

you take one final, deep breath, brace your shoulders, and knock.

the door swings open, and jay is standing there looking entirely too comfortable in a soft cream-colored knit sweater and dark trousers. his eyes immediately lock onto yours, his gaze dropping to your high-necked crewneck before rising back to your face with a slow, knowing amusement.

“well, look who it is,” jay says, stepping back to let you into the room. the door closes behind you with a quiet, solid click that feels incredibly final. “come on in, newbie. i was starting to think you’d skipped town.”

“i wouldn’t skip town,” you mumble, keeping your eyes trained firmly on his desk as you walk past him. you sit on the very edge of his bed, your posture rigid and stiff, your hands tightly clasped in your lap.

jay doesn't sit in his desk chair this time. instead, he walks over and leans his hip against the edge of the mattress, just a couple of feet away from you. he crosses his arms, tilting his head as his sharp, observant eyes trace the tense line of your shoulders, the frantic way your fingers are twitching, and the obvious blush already coloring your cheeks.

“alright,” jay murmurs, his voice low and conversational. “lesson five. you’re calling the shots today. what’s on the agenda, professor? more chemistry labs, or are we pivoting?”

you clear your throat aggressively, trying to sound as clinical and professional as possible. “i think… i think we should practice advanced flirting. like, body language across a crowded room, or how to subtly command attention in a group conversation. i think that’s a really logical next step for jake.”

jay doesn't say anything for a long, agonizing beat. he just stands there, watching you stumble over your words. then, a slow, dangerous smile spreads across his lips, his eyes glinting with pure, unadulterated mischief. he knows you're lying. he can see right through your pathetic little shield, and he is clearly planning on playing dirty.

“advanced flirting in a crowd,” jay repeats smoothly, nodding his head as if he’s taking you completely seriously. “okay. sure. let’s practice that. but you know, advanced flirting isn’t just about looking across a room, newbie. it’s about what you do when you finally get close to someone in a crowded, loud space. when the music is too loud and you have to make them listen to only you.”

before you can even process his words, jay moves.

he slides onto the bed, shifting his weight until he is sitting directly beside you. his thigh presses flush against yours, the heavy, intoxicating warmth of his body immediately enveloping you. your breath hitches, your entire body going completely rigid as you stare straight ahead, terrified to look at him.

“let’s set the scene,” jay whispers, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight through the mattress. he leans in closer, his chest brushing against your arm. “we’re at a busy bar. the music is throwing heavy bass. jake is standing right next to you, but there are people everywhere, pushing into your space. if you just talk normally, he won't hear you. you have to close the distance.”

he leans over, his face entering your peripheral vision. you bite your lip, staring straight ahead at his closet door, your heart hammering so violently against your ribs it feels painful.

then, jay eliminates the space entirely.

he leans over your shoulder, his chest pressing firmly against your back. he tilts his head, burying his face right in the crook of your neck, just an inch away from your sensitive skin. his hot, heavy breath fans out across your jawline and the side of your neck, sending a violent, electric shiver straight down your spine. you let out a soft, helpless gasp, your fingers tightly gripping the fabric of your own sweater.

“if you want him to notice you,” jay murmurs, his lips brushing against the tiny hairs on your neck as he speaks, his voice a devastatingly hot, quiet rumble right against your ear, “you don’t shout over the noise. you lean in. right here. where it’s quiet.”

you can feel the warmth of his lips moving, the heat of his skin radiating into yours. the air in the room is completely gone, replaced by the suffocating, heavy scent of his sandalwood cologne. your mind is a chaotic, blurred mess; you can’t think about jake, you can’t think about advanced flirting, you can’t think about anything other than the agonizing friction of jay’s body pressed against yours.

“and then,” jay continues softly, his hand slowly rising to rest on the curve of your waist, his large palm squeezing gently through your thick sweater, anchoring you to him, “you tell him something confidential. something that makes him forget the entire room exists.”

he lingers there for an agonizing, breathless three seconds, his breath hot against your ear, letting the agonizing tension build until you’re practically trembling under his touch. you’re completely paralyzed, your lips parted, waiting, secretly begging for him to just turn your face and kiss you again.

instead, jay slowly draws his head back just a fraction. he doesn't move his body away, keeping his chest pressed to your back and his hand firmly on your waist, but he tilts his head so he can look at the side of your face. his eyes are dark, intense.

“but we aren't at a crowded bar, newbie,” jay whispers, his voice dropping even lower, turning into something raw and fiercely honest. his thumb rubs a slow circle into your waist. “it’s just you and me in a quiet room. and your shoulders are up to your ears because you’re lying to me.”

you swallow hard, a shaky breath escaping your lips.

jay leans in just a millimeter closer, his lips almost brushing your earlobe. “so stop playing games with me. look at me and tell me what you really want to do for lesson five.”

you swallow hard, the feel of his thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles through the fabric of your sweater making it completely impossible to form a coherent thought. your gaze is frozen on the wrinkled blankets of his bed, your pulse hammering a rapid rhythm in your ears. jay doesn't move. he stays right there, his chest warm against your back, his breath a steady, intoxicating heat against the side of your neck, patiently waiting you out.

"i'm waiting, newbie," he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing purr that completely undoes the last shred of your resolve.

"i... i want to practice kissing again," you blurts out, the words rushing out of you in a desperate, breathless squeak.

the hand on your waist pauses for a fraction of a second. jay doesn't immediately pull back, but you can feel the slight shift in his posture, the way his jaw tightens against your hair. you quickly scramble to cover your track, the sheer embarrassment forcing your brain into overdrive as you try to construct a pathetic safety net of logic.

"because— because of the mechanics!" you stammer quickly, your voice dropping to a mortified whisper as you twist your fingers together. "the last time... i was entirely caught off guard, jay. and i felt like i was completely awful at it. i didn't know where to put my hands, and my timing was definitely off, and... and if i'm going to be ready for jake, i need to actually make sure i can do the rhythm properly without freezing up. it’s just for the lesson. for practice."

the silence that follows is thick enough to cut with a knife. for three agonizing seconds, you’re entirely convinced you’ve gone too far, that he’s going to laugh at your transparent excuse and tell you the lesson is over.

then, slowly, jay draws back.

you force yourself to turn your head, your cheeks burning a bright, furious pink as you look at him. jay is studying your face, his dark eyes incredibly heavy and focused. the playful, arrogant smirk you expected isn't there; instead, his lips are parted slightly, his gaze dropping to your mouth before rising back to meet your eyes with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

"for practice," he echoes, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates straight to your core.

"yes," you whisper.

"alright," jay murmurs, his tone shifting into something thick and serious. he slides closer, crossing his legs so he’s sitting directly in front of you, completely erasing the distance. "if we’re going to fix your rhythm, we need to do it right. look at me."

you lift your chin, your eyes locking onto his. jay doesn't hesitate this time. his large, warm hand rises, his long fingers sliding effortlessly into the hair at the back of your neck, his thumb anchoring right on your jawline to tilt your face up. he leans in, and before your brain can even register the proximity, his lips are pressing firmly against yours.

the contact is an immediate shock of heat. unlike the brief practical exam from days ago, jay doesn't start with a gentle question. he slides his lips over yours with a slow, heavy confidence, guiding your mouth to open slightly with a soft, persistent pressure.

"put your hands on my shoulders," jay whispers directly against your mouth, his breath hot and ragged as he pulls back just a millimeter to give the instruction. "don't just let them hang there. hold onto me."

your hands shake as you lift them, your fingers clutching tightly at the soft cream fabric of his knit sweater. the moment your palms make contact with his broad shoulders, jay lets out a low, approving hum deep in his throat. he tilts his head to the opposite angle, his lips sealing over yours again, deepening the kiss with a slow, agonizingly deliberate pace.

he teaches you through the movement itself. when your movements get too rushed or frantic from the sheer panic of how good it feels, jay uses the firm grip on the back of your neck to slow you down, lingering in a heavy, pressing rhythm that forces you to match his breath. his tongue lightly brushes against your bottom lip, a subtle, electrifying hint that makes a quiet, helpless sound escape your throat. jay catches the sound, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin of your jawline, pulling you closer until your chest is completely pressed against his.

the "practice kiss" begins to stretch, the boundaries of the lesson blurring until the air in the dorm room feels thick and heavy with a sudden, suffocating wave of genuine friction. it isn't just a clinical demonstration anymore. his lips are moving against yours with a raw, unhurried hunger, his breathing turning shallow and rough against your cheek. your fingers tangle deeper into the knit of his sweater, your body leaning entirely into his warmth, completely lost in the intoxicating taste of him. it’s a full-on makeout, a lingering, breathless collision that has absolutely nothing to do with jake sim.

suddenly, as if realizing exactly how far the line has been crossed, jay stiffens.

he pulls away, his hand sliding out of your hair as he abruptly breaks the contact.

the sudden loss of his warmth leaves you gasping for air, your lips tingling and flushed a deep red. you scramble back a few inches, your heart thumping violently against your ribs as reality comes crashing down on you like ice water.

the silence in the room is deafening, save for the sound of your ragged breathing. jay is sitting right in front of you, his dark hair completely messy from your fingers, his chest heaving under his sweater. he looks completely ungrounded, his eyes staring down at his own hands for a long, heavy beat before he finally forces himself to look up at you.

the atmosphere is thick with a sharp, suffocating awkwardness. both of you are completely aware that that wasn't on the syllabus.

jay clears his throat, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck as he shifts slightly on the mattress, trying desperately to summon his usual composed, unbothered demeanor.

“that was… good,” jay says, his voice rough, strained, and completely lacking its usual playful smugness. he avoids looking directly at your lips, his dark eyes focusing on your forehead instead as he slides off the bed and stands up. “your timing is… it’s fine. we’ll work on it.”

the minute those words leave jay’s mouth, the spell breaks entirely. you don't even wait for him to officially dismiss you. you practically scramble off the edge of his bed, your sneakers skidding slightly on the hardwood floor of his dorm as you snatch your tote bag from his desk chair with trembling hands.

“i— i have to go,” you stammer, your voice a high, frantic squeak that you barely recognize. you can't even look him in the eye; your gaze is glued to the door handle as you sprint toward it. “i have… a study group. and a paper. thank you for the lesson!”

you yank the door open and fling yourself out into the hallway, slamming it shut behind you before jay can even utter a response.

the walk — or rather, the hyperventilating run — back to your apartment is a blur of pure, unadulterated panic. your chest feels incredibly tight, your lungs burning as the cool evening air hits your face, but it does absolutely nothing to cool the raging fire still burning on your lips. your lips are tingling, slightly swollen, and heavy with the undeniable taste of him.

it’s for jake, you tell yourself, your fingers gripping the straps of your tote bag so tightly your knuckles turn a stark, ghostly white. it’s entirely for jake.

you turn the corner past the campus library, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you mentally repeat the words like a sacred mantra. the only reason i asked him to do that is because jake is going to kiss me soon. yunjin said jay is the best teacher. i just needed hands-on experience so i don’t humiliate myself when jake finally makes a move. it’s an educational baseline. that’s all it is.

but the anxious pacing of your thoughts only gets faster, louder, and more desperate.

if i didn't practice with jay, i would have frozen up with jake. jay was just correcting my rhythm. he said my timing was fine. so now, when jake kisses me, it’s going to be perfect. i’m doing this to save my future with jake. jay is just an instrument. a tutor. a textbook.

you push open the heavy glass door to your apartment building, practically taking the stairs two at a time because the elevator feels too slow, too claustrophobic for the storm currently raging inside your head.

it doesn't matter that my heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. it doesn't matter that i forgot how to breathe. it doesn't matter that i wanted him to keep going. you reach your front door, fumbling blindly with your keys, your hands shaking so violently that the metal clicks loudly against the lock. it’s for jake. it’s all for jake sim. it has to be.

you unlock the door and burst inside, instantly slamming it behind you and leaning your back against the wood, letting out a long, shaky exhale. the apartment is dark and quiet — yunjin isn't home yet — which is a blessing, because if she took one look at your wild eyes and bitten lips, she would know instantly that you didn't just practice advanced flirting.

you drop your bag on the floor and walk straight into the bathroom, flicking on the harsh overhead light. you lean over the sink and stare at your reflection in the mirror.

your cheeks are still flushed a deep, telltale crimson. your hair is slightly unruly where jay's fingers had tangled into it, and your lips are undeniably darker, stung red from the heavy, lingering pressure of his mouth. you look completely undone. you look like a girl who just got thoroughly made out with by jay park.

your phone suddenly buzzes in your pocket, the sharp vibration making you jump.

with a racing heart, you pull it out. a notification blocks the screen.

jake: hey! just finished soccer practice. totally random, but are you free to grab dinner tomorrow night? just the two of us? 😊

you stare at the glowing text, the emojis, the sweet, easy invitation from the boy you’ve been dreaming about for months. it’s the exact moment you’ve been working toward. the ultimate goal. the reason you embarrassed yourself, the reason you sent the photos, the reason you walked into room 314 in the first place.

you lift your eyes back to your reflection in the mirror, your thumb hovering over the screen to type out a reply.

see? you think, your mind screaming at you to believe the lie as a cold sweat breaks out across your palms. it worked. the lessons worked. everything i did today… it was all just so i could be ready for tomorrow night. with jake.

but as you finally press your thumb to the glass to type 'i'd love to', your eyes automatically drift down to your own lips, and the phantom sensation of jay's heavy, rough breathing against your skin returns with a fierce, suffocating intensity that leaves you completely breathless.

-------

the afternoon sun is hitting the windows of room 314 when you walk in, casting long, warm bars of light across the hardwood floor. it’s a sharp contrast to the stormy darkness of your last lesson, but the familiar scent of sandalwood and clean laundry still hits you the second the door opens.

jay is sitting at his desk, casually typing something on his laptop, but he looks up the moment you step inside. his dark eyes immediately track your movement as you set your tote bag down by the door. he looks entirely composed, the previous lesson's awkwardness seemingly evaporated from his demeanor, replaced by his usual calm, lazy aura.

“welcome back, newbie,” jay says smoothly, closing his laptop with a quiet click. he stands up, stretching his arms slightly before walking over to his mini-fridge. “how was the big date?”

you sit down on the edge of his mattress, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. just the mention of yesterday makes a strange swirl of emotions tighten in your stomach.

“it was… really nice,” you say softly, staring down at the pattern of his blanket. “jake was amazing. he took me to that little Italian place downtown, the one with the string lights. he paid for everything, even when i tried to argue with him. and he was just so sweet, jay. he listened to me talk about my classes, he laughed at my jokes, and he walked me all the way back to my apartment building.”

jay leans against the edge of his desk, taking a sip of water, his eyes locked onto your face. “sounds like a textbook perfect date. so why do you look like someone just kicked your puppy?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, your voice dropping to a shy, embarrassed whisper. “because… he didn't kiss me.”

jay pauses, his water bottle halfway down from his lips. a sudden, sharp curiosity flashes in his eyes. “he didn't?”

“no,” you groan, burying your face in your knees for a second before looking back up at him, completely miserable. “we stood on the porch of my building for like three whole minutes. i did the eye contact. i did the posture thing you taught me. i held his gaze, my lips were parted, i did everything right! but he just… he smiled, ruffled my hair, told me he had an amazing time, and said goodnight. i don’t get it. did i do something wrong? did he see right through me?”

jay stares at you for a beat, and then, a slow, incredibly wicked smirk begins to crawl onto his face. the intense seriousness from the end of your last lesson is gone, replaced by a wave of pure, triumphant amusement. he sets his water bottle down on the desk and steps closer to the bed.

“newbie, you didn't do anything wrong,” jay says, his voice a low, deeply satisfied rumble. “you’re just dealing with jake sim. the guy is a traditionalist. he’s old-school. he’s not going to lunges at a girl on the very first dinner date, especially not a girl he actually respects and likes as much as he clearly likes you.”

he hitches his usual desk chair over, spinning it around to sit directly in front of you, his knees inches from yours. “honestly? this is perfect for us. it means we’re officially two steps ahead of him.”

you blink, confused. “two steps ahead? what do you mean?”

“i mean,” jay says, leaning forward, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a suffocating amount of focus, “by the time he finally gets the nerve to make a real move on you, you’re not just going to know how to handle a basic kiss. you’re going to be a master. which brings us to today's actual syllabus.”

he rests his elbows on his knees, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that instantly sets your pulse racing. “today, we’re moving past the initial contact. we’re talking about a full-on makeout. the pacing, the breathing, how to build the physical escalation without getting overwhelmed. how to take control of the rhythm so he’s the one losing his mind, not you.”

your breath hitches completely. the memory of how your last "practice kiss" had spiraled into a lingering, breathless fog flashes through your brain, making your lips tingle instantly.

jay studies the sudden, bright pink flush spreading across your cheeks. his smile softens just a fraction, a quiet, intense gravity taking over his features. he leans in a microscopic inch closer, his eyes dropping to your mouth before rising back to yours.

“so,” jay murmurs, his voice a heavy, dangerous purr. “do you want today's lesson to be purely theoretical… or do you want a practical example, newbie?”

your heart is thumping so hard against your ribs you’re certain he can hear it. you know you should say theoretical. you know you should protect your sanity, preserve the lie that this is all just an educational game for jake. but as you look at jay — at his sharp jawline, his messy dark hair, his perfect, parted lips — the desperation from days ago takes over completely.

you don’t say a word. you just look him straight in the eye and nod your head, a tiny, submissive gesture.

“good girl,” jay whispers, the words vibrating straight down your spine.

he doesn't waste a single second. jay slides out of the chair and onto the mattress, crossing his legs right in front of you. his large, warm hand rises instantly, his long fingers sliding effortlessly into the hair at the back of your neck, his thumb anchoring firmly against your jawline to tilt your face up.

“remember the pacing,” jay murmurs right before his lips touch yours. “let me lead first.”

the instant his mouth seals over yours, the entire world outside room 314 completely vanishes. his lips are incredibly soft but heavy with a firm, demanding pressure that immediately makes a soft, helpless sigh escape your throat. jay catches the sound, his thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin of your jaw, guiding your mouth to open just a fraction more.

“breathe through your nose, newbie,” he whispers against your lips, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he shifts the angle of his head, deepening the kiss with a slow, agonizingly deliberate rhythm. “don’t rush it. follow my pace.”

you lift your hands, your fingers shaking as you clutch tightly at the soft fabric of his knit sweater, pulling yourself closer until your chest is flush against his. jay lets out a low, rough hum of approval deep in his throat at the touch, his grip on the back of your neck tightening just enough to anchor you completely.

the kiss quickly deepens, the boundaries of a simple "lesson" shattering instantly into a heavy, intoxicating fog. jay shows you how to escalate the tension; his lips move against yours with a raw, unhurried hunger, his tongue lightly tracing your bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth in a soft, agonizing tug that leaves you completely breathless.

“when the energy shifts,” jay murmurs, his voice raspy as he briefly parts from your lips to trace a line of burning kisses along your jawline, his lips hovering right over the sensitive skin beneath your ear, “you use your hands to change the dynamic. don’t just hold my sweater. slide your hands up. touch his neck.”

as if under a spell, you follow his whispered instructions. you let your hands slide up his broad chest, your fingers wrapping around the warm skin of his neck, your thumbs resting just below his sharp jawline. the physical contact makes jay let out a sharp, ragged exhale against your skin.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes clouded with a fierce, heavy intensity that has absolutely nothing to do with jake sim. his chest is heaving under his sweater, his lips dark and swollen.

“just like that,” jay whispers, his large hand sliding down from your neck to firmly grip your waist, pulling your hips a fraction closer to his on the mattress. “you control the distance. if he gets too frantic, you hold him right there. if you want more… you pull him back in.”

he doesn't wait for you to pull him. jay leans back down, his mouth crashing back onto yours with a sudden, overwhelming wave of passion that makes your head spin. it’s a full-on, breathless makeout, his lips parting yours completely, his thumb rubbing a slow, heavy circle into your waist through your shirt. you lose all track of time, completely drowning in the intoxicating taste of him, your fingers tangling into his dark hair as you match his pace, completely forgetting who this lesson was supposed to be for.

when jay finally draws back, it is agonizingly slow, his lips lingering against yours in three short, pressing kisses before he completely breaks the contact.

the sudden loss of his warmth leaves you shivering, your chest heaving as you desperately try to force air back into your lungs. jay stays hovering inches away, his forehead resting lightly against yours for a brief, breathless second before he slowly straightens up. his breathing is completely ungrounded, his eyes dark as he stares down at your thoroughly kissed, flushed face.

the silence in the room is suffocating, heavy with the weight of what just happened.

jay clears his throat, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck as he shifts back on the mattress, trying to force his usual lazy, unbothered smirk back onto his face — though his trembling fingers completely give him away.

“that was… the baseline,” jay says, his voice rough, strained, and entirely devoid of his usual arrogance. he looks away from your lips, his gaze tracking a stray shadow on the wall instead. “we’ll… we’ll stop there for today. your pacing is fine, newbie. jake won’t know what hit him.”

he stands up quickly, walking over to the door to open it for you, but as you scramble off the bed with a racing heart, you realize with a sudden wave of absolute panic that you don't care about jake sim's reaction at all anymore.

-------

you would be lying to yourself if you had said you hadn't been eager for more after that. you were. in fact, you started meeting jay almost every day so you could "practice" making out.

it became an unspoken, addictive routine. you didn't even wait for a scheduled thursday afternoon anymore. a quick, vague text from jay — ‘my room’s free if you want to study’ — and you would find yourself walking toward room 314 with your heart already doing double-flips inside your chest. you didn't even bring your notebooks anymore. what was the point of pretending?

with every single day that passed, the lessons started escalating little by little, the boundaries of "basic mechanics" crumbling into dust.

one afternoon, the air in his dorm room felt so suffocatingly hot that your hands grew bold. jay was guiding you through a deeper rhythm, his lips heavy and possessive against yours, when your fingers strayed from the hem of his sweater and slid up, slipping underneath the fabric. your bare palms pressed flat against the warm, solid skin of his lower back. you remember the exact way his entire body had rigidified for a split second, a low, ragged growl catching in his throat before he completely lost his composure, his lips turning frantic against yours.

another day, the lesson wasn't about the mouth at all. jay had backed you up against his closed closet door, his large hands anchoring your wrists gently against the wood above your head. “advanced escalation,” he had whispered against your skin, his voice a dangerous, gravelly rasp right before he buried his face in your neck. he had kissed his way down your jawline, his lips warm and demanding as he sucked softly on the sensitive skin right above your collarbone, leaving a faint, stinging heat that made your knees turn to literal water.

but the most shocking shift — the one that still makes your face burn a furious purple when you think about it during lectures — happened just two days ago.

jay had been sitting in the middle of his unmade bed, watching you pace around his room as you anxiously rambled on about your nerves. without a word, he had reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you down. before your brain could even process the movement, jay's hands were on your waist, lifting you up and guiding you until you were completely straddling his lap, your knees resting on either side of his thighs.

your whole body had gone into a state of absolute shock, your face inches from his. but jay hadn't teased you. he had just looked up at you with those dark, fiercely intense eyes, his thumbs rubbing slow, heavy circles into your hips. “this is how you handle the proximity,” he had murmured. and then he had pulled you down by your neck.

you had kissed for a whole hour. a full, breathless, uninterrupted sixty minutes where your hands were tangled in his hair, his broad chest was crushed against yours, and his mouth was relentlessly teaching you a rhythm that made your entire soul ache. your body had fit perfectly against his, the heat between you completely consuming the small room. and you had enjoyed every single, agonizing second of it.

still, despite the bare skin, the bruised lips, and the sheer intimacy of sitting on his lap, you kept trying to convince yourself it was all because of jake.

every night, when you lay awake in your own bed staring at the ceiling, you forced yourself to repeat the old script. it’s not because of jay. jay park has absolutely nothing to do with it. he’s just an instructor. he’s just incredibly good at what he does because he’s experienced, and i am just a good student taking advantage of a resource.

you told yourself that the violent butterflies in your stomach, the way your hands shook whenever you touched his skin, and the desperate hunger you felt every time he leaned in were all just a biological reaction. you were just enjoying the physical sensation of making out because, in the back of your mind, you were projecting. you were simply thinking about doing all of these things with jake sim. jay was just the proxy, the placeholder, the mannequin you were using to perfect your technique so that when the time finally came, you would drive jake absolutely crazy.

or at least… that’s what you said to yourself.

-------

you keep your mouth shut, maintaining the absolute lockdown on your secret. whenever yunjin asks how the lessons are going, you look her straight in the eye and lie through your teeth, insisting it’s all strictly theoretical. you tell her jay is just drawing diagrams and explaining body language, all while your lips are still practically stinging from being thoroughly devoured by him just an hour prior.

in the meantime, you keep hanging out with jake. he takes you to get ice cream, he walks you to class, and he remains the perfect, sweet gentleman. but whenever he holds your hand or leans in to give you a polite, fleeting peck on the cheek, a bizarre, hollow sensation settles in your chest. you keep expecting the earth to move, expecting to feel that white-hot, electric current that roars through your veins every time you walk into room 314. but it never comes. you’re just building up to it, you tell yourself desperately. the real spark will happen later. jay is just priming you.

and then comes today's lesson.

the afternoon sun is completely blocked out by the heavy curtains jay drew across his window, plunging the dorm room into a dark, suffocatingly intimate haze. you’re sitting directly on his lap, your legs straddling his thighs. the friction between your bodies is a living, breathing thing. you've grown bold over the past week; your hands are slipped entirely beneath his oversized tee, your palms pressed flat against the hot, defined muscles of his chest. your hips shift instinctively, a slow, heavy grind against his lap as you chase the friction, your mouth moving against his in a deep, wet rhythm that leaves you both completely breathledd.

jay lets out a sharp, ragged groan directly into your mouth. his hands, which had been anchoring your hips, suddenly tighten with a bruising force. he abruptly pulls his head back, his breathing incredibly shallow and heavy as he forces you to stop moving.

his dark hair is completely unruly, his lips a dark, swollen crimson. he looks up at you, his eyes clouded with a raw, fierce hunger that makes your stomach do a violent flip.

“jesus, newbie,” jay rasps, his chest heaving under his shirt as his hands steady your trembling waist. he takes a long, ragged breath, his voice dropping into an incredibly low, gravelly register. “hold on. stop moving for a second.”

you blink down at him, dazed, your heart hammering against your ribs. “what? did i… did i do it wrong?”

jay lets out a low, breathless chuckle, though his jaw remains incredibly tight. “no. you didn't do it wrong. that’s the problem. the way you move…” he pauses, his intense gaze raking over your flushed face, tracking the absolute innocence in your wide eyes. a sudden, heavy curiosity settles over his features. “have you actually ever done anything sexual before this? like, at all?”

the question hits you like a bucket of ice water. a fierce, blinding wave of mortification instantly erupts across your cheeks. you instinctively try to shift off his lap, but his grip on your waist tightens, keeping you anchored right there against his heat.

“no,” you squeak out, your voice dropping to an incredibly shy, embarrassed whisper. you look down at his collarbone, unable to hold his gaze. “i haven't. i’ve never… i’ve never done anything. i told you, i'm a total newbie.”

jay stares at you, a complex flash of emotion crossing his face — surprise, a sudden wave of protectiveness, and a trace of possessiveness that he quickly tries to mask. he clears his throat, his thumb rubbing a slow, grounding circle into your hip.

“right,” jay murmurs, his voice softening just a fraction. “okay. well. you’re doing great for a beginner.”

you swallow hard, the frantic script in your head screaming at you to take control, to justify why you're enjoying this so much, why you’re pushing the boundaries. you look at his perfectly parted lips, then back up to his dark eyes, and a reckless, desperate thought tumbles right out of your mouth.

“jay… can you teach me about the rest of it?”

jay freezes, his hand instantly stopping its movement on your hip. “the rest of it?”

“yes,” you stammer, your voice incredibly small but filled with a panicked, stubborn determination. you force the lie out, hiding behind your golden shield. “i mean… for jake! what if things escalate on our next date? what if he wants to go further? i don’t want to be completely clueless. i want to know how to make him feel good. i need to learn how sex works. the mechanics.”

jay studies your face for a long, agonizingly silent beat. the air in the room feels impossibly thick. you can feel the sudden, intense heat radiating from his lap, a physical reminder of exactly what your grinding had done to him. but jay is a professional, and more than that, he refuses to pressure you or take advantage of the ridiculous web of lies you've spun.

slowly, deliberately, jay lifts his hands and gently guides you off his lap. the sudden loss of his warmth makes you shiver. he sits back against his headboard, pulling one knee up to his chest, his expression shifting into something clinical, serious, and entirely focused.

“alright, newbie,” jay says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that commands your absolute attention. “if you want to talk about how to make a guy feel good, we’re keeping this strictly theoretical. understand? no hands-on for this part.”

you nod quickly, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, your hands tightly clasped in your lap as your face burns hot.

“good. then let’s start with manual stimulation. handjobs,” jay begins, his tone conversational but his words dripping with a raw, explicit honesty that makes your jaw drop. “it’s not just about gripping and sliding. the anatomy is sensitive. a guy's nerves are concentrated right at the head, especially underneath, on the frenulum. if you just pull the skin up and down dry, it’s uncomfortable. you need friction control. you use lubrication, or even just saliva, and you start with a firm but gentle grip at the base.”

you feel your eyes widening, your brain frantically trying to take mental notes as he speaks. jay doesn't break eye contact; he looks straight at you, using clinical but undeniably dirty language that makes your heart thump in your throat.

“the rhythm is everything,” jay continues smoothly, his voice dropping an octave, turning into a heavy, suffocating purr. “you match his breathing. a slow, steady stroke all the way from the base to the top, and when you reach the head, you twist your thumb gently over the top. it builds the pressure. you don’t speed up until his breath catches. you pay attention to his sounds.”

“o-oh,” you squeak, your hands twisting together. “i… okay. slow rhythm. twist at the top.”

“exactly,” jay says, a faint, amused half-smile touching his lips at your absolute mortification, though his eyes remain heavy and intense. “now, if things go further… oral. blowjobs. this is where most girls panic because they think about their teeth. your teeth should never touch his skin, newbie. you keep your lips curled completely over them. like an anchor.”

you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust. your cheeks are a catastrophic shade of purple, but you are hanging on every single syllable.

“the technique isn’t just about depth,” jay murmurs, his gaze dropping to your mouth for a heavy, unhurried second before rising back to your eyes. “it’s about suction and warmth. you use the roof of your mouth and your tongue to create a vacuum. you start slow, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him in. and the most important part? the pacing. you don’t just stay at the top; you move down to the base, using one hand to stroke the shaft while your mouth handles the rest. dual stimulation.”

he pauses, leaning forward just a fraction, his voice dropping into a whisper that sends a violent shiver straight down your spine.

“and you never, ever break eye contact,” jay whispers, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a terrifying amount of gravity. “when you’re down there, you look up at him. through your lashes. you let him see exactly what you’re doing to him. it drives a guy absolutely insane, newbie. it completely breaks his control.”

you sit there, completely paralyzed, your chest heaving as you absorb the intense, explicit breakdown. you are utterly mortified, entirely overwhelmed, and your brain is screaming at you that you are supposed to be picturing jake sim during this entire lecture.

but as you look at jay — at the way his jaw tightens, the way his low, gravelly voice sounds saying those explicit words, and the dark, possessive heat hidden deep in his eyes — you realize with a sudden wave of pure terror that jake’s face hasn't crossed your mind even once.

you sit there at the foot of his bed, your heart hammering against your ribs so violently you can hear it in your ears. the explicit details of his words are still hanging heavy in the dim, warm air of the dorm room. your hands are knotted tightly in the fabric of your sweater, your palms slick with a nervous sweat.

you look down at his lap, then back up to his dark, unhurried eyes. the golden shield of your excuse — the lie that this is all a clinical preparation for a future with jake sim — feels incredibly heavy, but it’s the only armor you have left.

"jay," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. you swallow hard, your face burning a catastrophic shade of crimson as you force the words out. "if... if the rhythm and the grip are that specific... what if i mess it up? what if i'm too rough, or too loose? can you... can you give me another practical example?"

jay’s entire body tenses. the casual, leaning posture against his headboard locks up instantly. his eyes widen just a fraction, his gaze dropping to your trembling hands before snapping back up to look at your face. the heavy, silent tension in room 314 returns with the force of a physical blow.

"newbie," jay rasps, his voice rougher and deeper than before. he clears his throat, his knuckles whitening as his hands grip the mattress. "we said strictly theoretical for this. i'm not trying to rush you into anything."

"i'm not rushed," you lie desperately, leaning forward just a fraction, your heart in your throat. "i just... i need to know if i'm doing it right. for the baseline. please, jay."

jay stares at you for three agonizing, breathless seconds. his jaw tightens so hard you can see the muscle tick under his sharp skin. he lets out a long, slow, ragged exhale through his teeth, the restraint he’s been maintaining for weeks visibly fracturing.

"alright," jay murmurs, his tone shifting into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight through your chest. "come here."

you move on your knees, sliding across the mattress until you're sitting right beside his thigh. your knees are trembling. jay reaches down, his fingers hooking under the hem of his dark trousers, and with a low rustle of fabric, he frees himself.

your breath catches completely. he is already thick, fully erect, and a dark, heavy flush is painting his skin. the pure, raw reality of it makes your mind go entirely blank.

"don't look away," jay commands softly, his voice remarkably steady despite the shallow rise and fall of his chest. "wrap your fingers like this."

he reaches out, his broad, warm hand wrapping around yours to guide it. he positions your fingers at the very base of his shaft, curling them in a firm, even cylinder. his skin feels smooth, white-hot, and pulsing beneath your touch.

"now, look at me," jay whispers, his face inches from yours. "stroke up. slow. all the way to the top."

you slowly move your hand upward, the physical friction sending a jolt of pure electricity straight up your arm. your heart is beating in an erratic rhythm against your ribs.

"good. just like that, newbie," jay praises you, a low, breathy rumble in his throat. his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, a soft, encouraging look melting his usual sharp features. "now, when you hit the head... slower at the top. twist your thumb over the frenulum. exactly like i explained."

you follow his instructions perfectly, slowing the motion, your thumb dragging gently over the ultra-sensitive rim.

"oh— fuck," jay lets out a sudden, ragged groan, his eyes instantly fluttering shut as his head thumps back against the headboard. the sound is deep, unvarnished, and completely intoxicating. "yes. right there. that's perfect, sweetheart. keep that exact pace."

hearing the pet name slip past his lips makes your stomach do a violent, hot flip. you keep going, your movements becoming smoother, more confident as you fall into the heavy, dragging rhythm. you watch his face, completely fascinated by the raw power you suddenly hold over him.

but as the seconds tick by, the clinical baseline completely disintegrates. the touch is too hot, the friction too intense, and jay’s carefully constructed control begins to dangerously slip.

his breathing turns shallow and frantic, his chest heaving under his shirt. his sharp, dark brows furrow in a look that almost resembles pain. he lets out another heavy, broken groan, a sudden, involuntary jerk rippling through his lower half as his hips instinctively thrust upward against the firm pressure of your hand.

"jay," you whisper, completely captivated by the sight of him losing his mind beneath your touch.

"keep going... shit, don't stop," he swears under his breath, his voice rough and completely ungrounded. his hand flies to your wrist, not to pull you away, but to physically lock your hand in place, his fingers squeezing tightly as he takes over the pace, forcing your hand to move faster, harder against him. another ragged, breathy moan escapes his lips, his jaw clenching so tightly his veins stand out against his neck. "you're too good at this... fuck, newbie..."

the sheer, overwhelming heat of the moment fills the quiet room, the sound of his ragged breathing and the soft, slick friction of your hand filling the space between you. you are utterly drowning in him, your thumb tracing the wetness at the tip, your own breathing turning heavy as you lean into his space.

you look up through your lashes, his dark eyes snapping open to look down at you, clouded with a fierce, possessive hunger. and that’s when the old, desperate script in your head panics, trying one last time to pull you back to safety.

"is this… how i should do it for jake?" you whisper, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

jay freezes.

the pleasure on his face vanishes instantly. his hand snaps down, gripping your wrist hard enough to still you completely. his eyes open, sharp and raw.

jay stares down at you, his chest heaving, his lips parted as he absorbs the name. for a second, something painful flashes across his face — hurt, anger, and something deeper. he exhales shakily, then gently but firmly removes your hand from him. the silence that crashes into the room is suffocating.

he reaches down, gently but firmly removing your hand from his skin, and quietly covers himself back up, shifting his weight to sit back against the wall.

the sudden loss of contact leaves your hand feeling cold, your fingers tingling. the blinding wave of embarrassment returns, your cheeks exploding into a furious red flush as you realize what you just said.

“newbie…” he says quietly, voice rough. “don’t do that.”

you feel sick with embarrassment. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—”

but jay doesn't lash out. he doesn't tease you, and he doesn't bring up the name. instead, he just looks down at your flustered, wide-eyed face, a soft, incredibly gentle expression taking over his sharp features.

"hey," jay murmurs, his voice still low and beautifully rough from the aftereffects of the pleasure. he reaches out, his large, warm hand gently patting the top of your head, his fingers lightly smoothing down your messy hair. "don't look at me like that. you didn't do anything wrong."

you look up at him through your bangs, your heart still thumping softly. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have..."

"it's fine," jay interrupts softly, a faint, tired but genuinely warm smile touching his lips. his hand slides down from your head to rest gently on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "you're a fast learner, newbie. really fast. you passed the lesson."

he sits there, his hand warm and heavy on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing a slow, comforting circle into your shirt. it’s a soft, lingering moment of aftercare that feels entirely too domestic, entirely too real for a simple tutoring session. and as you look at his gentle smile, your hand still warm from his skin, the lie about jake feels smaller and more pathetic than it ever has before.

-------

when thursday afternoon rolls around, the tension inside your chest is so thick you can barely swallow. the walk to the west quad feels different today; the golden armor of your excuses is getting heavier, cracking, but the raw curiosity burning in your veins is too loud to ignore.

when you knock on the door to room 314, jay opens it almost instantly. he’s wearing a loose, dark gray t-shirt and light gray sweatpants, his dark hair falling messy across his forehead. his eyes immediately lock onto yours, a quiet, intense gravity in his gaze that lets you know he hasn't forgotten a single second of tuesday's handjob lesson either.

"come in, newbie," jay murmurs, stepping aside.

you walk in and immediately sit cross-legged in the center of his unmade bed, your hands tucked between your knees to hide how much they’re shaking. jay closes the door, the heavy click sealing the two of you in the quiet, sandalwood-scented dimness of his room.

he doesn't sit in his desk chair. he walks straight to the edge of the mattress, standing right in front of you, looking down with his hands shoved casually into his sweatpants pockets. "alright. lesson seven. what are we breaking down today?"

you look up at him, your cheeks instantly exploding into a fierce, burning crimson. you swallow hard, your fingers twisting together as you force the words out. "i... i want to learn how to give a blowjob. you explained the theory on tuesday, but... i’ve always been curious about how the actual tongue work and depth feel. i want the practical example, jay."

jay’s entire posture locks up. his eyes darken significantly, a sudden, heavy wave of heat rolling off his body as he stares down at your flushed, determined face. he takes a slow, ragged breath through his nose, his jaw clenching tightly.

"newbie," jay rasps, his voice incredibly deep and rough. "are you absolutely sure about this? once we cross this line, there’s no turning back."

"i'm sure," you whisper, looking him straight in the eye.

jay doesn't say another word. he slowly pulls his hands out of his pockets and sits down on the edge of the bed, right in front of you. with a low, deliberate rustle of fabric, he pushes his sweatpants down, freeing his thick, fully erect length. he is already pulsing, a heavy, dark flush painting his white-hot skin.

"get down on your knees between my legs," jay commands softly, his voice remarkably patient, completely ridden of his usual mocking tone

you slide off the mattress, sinking onto your knees on the hardwood floor right between his thighs. your face is level with his lap, the raw heat of his arousal radiating against your cheeks.

"now, look at me," jay whispers, his large, warm hand rising to gently cup the back of your head, his long fingers tangling into your hair to steady you. "remember what i said. keep your lips curled completely over your teeth. let me feel your tongue first. swirl it right around the head."

you lean in, your hands hesitantly resting on the top of his firm thighs for balance. you slowly extend your tongue, dragging the wet, warm tip in a slow circle around the sensitive rim of his crown.

"oh— fuck," jay lets out a sharp, ragged gasp, his head immediately tossing back, his eyes fluttering shut as a deep shiver ripples through his lower half. his fingers tighten gently in your hair. "yes. just like that, baby. you're so warm, you feel so good."

"now, open up a little more," jay murmurs, his dark eyes snapping open to look down at you, clouded with an intense, suffocating pleasure. "take the top half in. use the roof of your mouth to create a gentle suction. don't rush the depth yet."

you part your lips, curling them firmly over your teeth as he instructed, and slowly slide your mouth over the thick, smooth head of his shaft. the sudden warmth and tightness of your mouth makes jay let out a low, broken moan deep in his chest. you pull back slightly, then slide forward again, your tongue swirling against him with every movement.

"you're doing so good, newbie," jay praises you, his voice a low, breathy rumble right above your head. his hand in your hair is incredibly sweet, gently guiding your rhythm, pacing your movements so you don’t choke. "you're so pretty looking up at me like that. god, you're perfect."

hearing him call you pretty makes a violent, hot flash of adrenaline surge through you. you grow bolder, sliding your mouth a little further down, letting your throat adapt to the thickness. you manage your breathing, taking steady, short inhales through your nose as your mouth works rhythmically against him.

the clinical nature of the lesson completely shatters. jay’s control begins to dangerously fracture under the wet, tight heat of your mouth. his breathing turns shallow and frantic, his chest heaving under his t-shirt as his hips instinctively lift, thrusting a fraction deeper into your mouth with a heavy, unvarnished desperation.

"shit, look at you," jay groans out, a ragged, completely ungrounded swear escaping his lips as his grip on your hair tightens just enough to hold you in place. his eyes are locked onto yours, blazing with a raw, possessive hunger as you look up at him through your lashes. "look at you, sucking me off so good... fuck, sweetheart, you're driving me insane."

the explicit praise sends a jolt of pure electricity straight down your spine. you wrap your right hand around the base of his shaft, sliding it up and down in sync with the heavy suction of your mouth, creating a flawless, dual stimulation that completely breaks his remaining restraint.

jay let out a deep, guttural cry, his jaw clenching so hard the veins stand out against his neck, his hips moving faster, more rapidly against your mouth as he inches closer and closer to the edge.

"hold on— hold on, baby, stop," jay suddenly rasps, his breathing completely shattered. he gently but firmly pulls your head back by your hair, his chest heaving as he draws a long, shaky breath.

you blink up at him, your lips wet and flushed a deep red, your heart thumping violently. jay stares down at your face, his eyes incredibly heavy, full of a fierce, protective softness that completely melts his sharp features.

slowly, he reaches down, his thumb gently wiping away a drop of moisture from the corner of your mouth. a faint, breathless, and incredibly tender smile on his lips.

"you're a genius, newbie," jay whispers, his voice beautifully rough as he lightly taps your cheek. "lesson concluded. you're officially too good for this campus."

-------

when you arrive for the next lesson, the atmospheric pressure inside room 314 feels entirely different. the standard conversational buffer — the casual banter about classes, the lingering ghost of a mention of jake — is completely gone. when jay opens the door, he doesn’t say his usual witty greeting. he just looks at you, his dark eyes heavy and remarkably soft, and reaches down to gently take your bag from your hand, setting it by the desk.

"hey," he murmurs, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly timbre that instantly makes your pulse flutter.

"hey," you whisper back.

he closes the door with a quiet, deliberate click, locking it before turning back to you. he’s wearing a simple black t-shirt that clings to his broad shoulders, and his hair is a little messy, falling perfectly over his forehead. he doesn't wait for you to sit on the edge of the mattress; instead, he takes your hand, his long, warm fingers sliding effortlessly between yours, and guides you to the middle of the bed.

"we've spent a lot of time breaking down what makes a guy lose his mind," jay says softly, sitting down right in front of you, his knees brushing against your thighs. his free hand reaches up, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw, tilting your face up so you're forced to look directly into his eyes. "but that's only half the mechanics, newbie. you need to know what feels good for you, too. you need to know how your body reacts when someone is completely focused on you."

your breath catches, a fierce, sudden heat blooming across your chest. "jay..."

"i'm going to go slow, okay?" he interrupts gently, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners with a reassuring, incredibly tender smile. "no rushing. i'm going to teach you exactly how you're supposed to be touched."

he leans forward, his lips pressing softly against your forehead, then your temple, before trailing down to the sensitive column of your neck. a violent, delicious shiver ripples through your entire body as he kisses his way back up to your jawline, his lips warm and unhurried.

"lay down for me, sweetheart," jay whispers against your skin, his hands moving to your waist to gently guide you back onto the pillows.

you slide down, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs as jay shifts, hovering over you, supported by his elbows on either side of your head. his gaze rakes over your flushed face, his expression so fiercely loving and sweet it makes your chest ache. he reaches down, his large, warm hand sliding under the hem of your top, his palm resting flat against the bare skin of your stomach. you let out a soft, sharp inhale at the sudden friction.

"just breathe," jay praises you, his voice a soft, comforting rumble as his fingers trail lower, gently nudging the waistband of your shorts. "let me do the work."

slowly, deliberately, he eases your clothes down, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs to the dim, warm air of the room. you instinctively try to pull your knees together, a sudden wave of shyness hitting you, but jay gently presses them apart, sliding his body between your legs to anchor you. he doesn't look away; his eyes stay locked onto yours as his fingers softly brush against the inner skin of your thigh, moving upward with agonizingly slow, light strokes.

"you are so beautiful, newbie," he murmurs, leaning down to press a deep, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting you fully before trailing his mouth down to your collarbone. "so pretty for me."

when his hand finally reaches the center of your heat, you let out a breathless, broken gasp, your fingers instantly clutching at the fabric of his t-shirt. his fingers are warm, incredibly gentle as they find the small, sensitive bundle of nerves. he starts with light, circular motions, his thumb sliding over the slick skin with a practiced, effortless rhythm.

"there you go," jay whispers against your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he tracks the sudden, erratic hitch in your breathing. "feel that? that's the baseline. you just stay relaxed, let the heat build."

he introduces a single finger, sliding it slowly into your tight, wet heat. a soft, helpless moan escapes your throat, your hips instinctively lifting against his hand. jay lets out a low, rough hum of absolute approval deep in his chest, his finger moving in a slow, curling motion that targets a deep, heavy ache you didn't even know was there.

"look at me, sweetheart," he commands softly. you blink your eyes open, your vision slightly blurry from the sheer intensity of it, to find him staring down at you with an unvarnished, consuming intensity. "you're doing so good. you're so wet for me."

he continues the rhythm, his fingers moving inside you with a steady, heavy pace while his thumb keeps a relentless, agonizingly perfect pressure on your core. you feel the tension building rapidly, a hot, tight knot coiling tightly in your lower stomach. your hands tangle deep into his dark hair, pulling him closer as your breathing turns shallow and desperate.

"jay... jay," you whimpered, completely ungrounded by the overwhelming sensation.

"i've got you," he murmurs sweetly, kissing away the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. he pulls his hand away for just a fraction of a second, making you let out a needy whine, before he shifts his body lower on the mattress.

he presses your knees open wider, his hands firmly gripping the undersides of your thighs to steady you. you look down through your lashes, your face burning a furious purple as jay leans his head down, his mouth replacing his fingers.

the first touch of his wet, warm tongue against your sensitive core makes your entire body arch off the mattress, a loud, unvarnished cry echoing through the quiet room. jay's hands tighten on your thighs, anchoring you completely as his tongue sweeps upward in long, firm strokes, applying a heavy, steady suction that sends a violent, electric current straight down your spine.

"oh my god," you sob out, your fingers desperately clutching at the bedsheets as the coiling tension inside you completely snaps.

jay doesn't stop. he works through your release, his tongue moving in a relentless, beautifully deep rhythm, drinking you in as your body trembles and shakes beneath him. he holds you steady through the intense waves, his mouth warm and unbelievably patient against your sensitive skin until the final tremors slowly begin to fade.

when he finally slides back up the mattress, his face is flushed, his dark eyes shining with a deep, triumphant softness. he pulls the blankets up over your shivering shoulders, immediately wrapping his broad arms around you and pulling your back flush against his chest in a tight, protective embrace.

he leans down, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the back of your warm neck.

"you did so perfect, newbie," jay whispers into your hair, his voice rough and beautifully thick as his large hand rests over your heart, feeling it hammer a frantic pace against his palm. "absolutely perfect."

the cool night air hits your face the moment you step out of the west quad, but it does absolutely nothing to cool the raging, white-hot fire burning beneath your skin. your limbs feel heavy, almost liquid, and every step you take on the concrete sidewalk feels strangely disconnected from reality.

the guilt catches up to you by the time you reach the campus quad. it settles into your stomach like a block of lead, heavy and suffocating.

you just had sex with jay park.

well, not full intercourse, but it was sexual. it was intimate. he touched you, he put his mouth on you, he held you through the most intense physical release of your life, and he wrapped his arms around you like you belonged to him. the raw, unvarnished memory of his wet tongue, his whispers of "sweetheart," and the protective warmth of his chest pressed against your back makes a violent shudder get to your core.

it's for jake, your brain screams, a frantic, high-pitched panic echoing in your head as you grip the straps of your tote bag until your knuckles turn white. the reason why you're doing this is for improving for jake. you're a newbie. you needed to know what a release felt like so you don't panic or freeze up when jake finally takes you to his bed. jay is just the instructor. he's a textbook. he has nothing to do with this.

but deep inside, in a dark, quiet corner of your soul that you are desperately trying to block out, you know it's a lie. you know text modules and posture corrections don't involve a guy worshiping your body until you're sobbing his name into his pillows.

still, you really try to convince yourself. you force the golden shield back into place, cementing the lie with sheer, stubborn willpower as you unlock the door to your apartment. yunjin's bedroom door is closed, the apartment blissfully dark. you tip-toe straight into your room, lock the door behind you, and collapse onto your bed without even changing out of your clothes.

the bed feels too big, too cold, and your skin is still tingling, practically begging for the touch that was just stripped away from it.

fine, you think desperately, staring up at the shadows on your ceiling. if it's for jake, prove it. fantasize about him.

your hands shake as you slide them down the denim of your shorts, slipping past the waistband to touch the lingering, hypersensitive heat between your thighs. you close your eyes tightly, forcing jake's face into your mind's eye. you picture the sweet way he ruffles your hair, the little Italian restaurant with the string lights, the gentle way he holds your hand across the table.

you start to move your fingers, replicating the exact circular rhythm jay had used on you just an hour ago. a soft, needy gasp escapes your lips into the quiet room. the heat builds rapidly, your body already primed and ready to boil over.

it's jake, you tell yourself, your breathing turning hurried as you pick up the pace. imagine jake doing this to you. imagine jake hovering over you in the dark.

you lean into the fantasy, letting the tight, coiling knot in your stomach take over. you bite your lip hard, letting your brain go insane — imagining the pretty sounds he’d make, mouth open in a slight “o” as his brows furrow, hair falling down, almost reaching that pretty nose adorned with the scar you love to feel between your—

wait.

jake doesn’t have a nose scar.

that’s jay.

your fingers freeze.

the world inside your bedroom completely grinds to a halt. you stare blankly at the dark ceiling, your hand slipping out from your shorts as if your skin had suddenly turned to ice. your heart is hammering, but it’s not from the pleasure anymore; it’s from pure, unadulterated terror.

you just pictured jay.

you were touching yourself, trying to build a future with the boy you’ve liked for months, and your brain completely bypassed him to conjure the exact, devastating image of jay park’s sharp jaw, his furrowed brows, and that tiny, pale scar cutting right across the bridge of his aristocratic nose.

a suffocating wave of reality hits you. it isn't jake. it has never been jake. not since you walked into room 314.

the next morning, the guilt is a physical sickness in your throat. you can’t look at your phone. when jake texts you a picture of a golden retriever he saw on his walk, you reply with a short, polite emoji, your stomach twisting into knots. you are entirely, completely compromised.

by monday afternoon, you know what you have to do. you can't keep going to room 314. if you walk back into that room, if you let him put his hands on your waist one more time, you will never be able to look jake sim in the eye again. you will lose the entire script.

with shaking thumbs, you open your chat with jay.

you: hey jay. i think we should stop the lessons. i think i have everything i need now. thank you for everything.

you hit send and immediately flip your phone face-down on your duvet, burying your face in your hands. you expect him to reply with his usual lazy, arrogant ‘sure thing, newbie’. you expect him to be relieved that his tutoring duties are officially over.

but three minutes later, your phone buzzes. then it buzzes again. and again.

jay: what do you mean? jay: did something happen? jay: newbie answer your phone. if i did something on thursday to make you uncomfortable you need to tell me. i told you we could go at your pace. did i pressure you?

the sheer, frantic panic in his messages makes your throat tighten. the cool, unbothered, perfectly composed jay park is completely gone, replaced by someone who sounds genuinely, deeply terrified that he hurt you.

you bite your lip, a stray tear slipping down your cheek as you type back.

you: no! no, jay, you didn't do anything wrong at all. you were perfect. it's just... things are getting serious with jake. he asked me out again this weekend. and since jake was the original purpose of the whole thing... i need to focus on him now. i have to be fair to him.

you watch the screen. the three little typing dots appear almost instantly. then they disappear. then they appear again. the silence stretching between your apartments feels agonizing.

finally, the phone buzzes one last time.

jay: right. the original purpose. jay: i get it. good luck this weekend, newbie. drive him crazy.

the text is so clinical, so brief, it feels like a physical slap. he doesn't fight it. he doesn't tease you. he just steps back into the box of the "instructor," closing the lid firmly behind him.

-------

the rest of the week passes in a gray, heavy blur. you don't go to the west quad. you take the long way around the library just so you don't have to risk seeing his tall silhouette walking past the glass windows.

friday night arrives, and you're sitting at the vanity in your bedroom, curling your hair for your second official date with jake. yunjin is leaning against your doorframe, watching you with a slight, curious frown.

"you're quiet today," yunjin notes, crossing her arms. "usually before a jake date you're bouncing off the walls. didn't your theoretical lessons with jay give you a confidence boost?"

"they did," you lie softly, your eyes fixed on your reflection. "i'm just... focused."

"well, jay's been acting weird too," yunjin shrugs, turning back toward the living room. "saw him at the student union yesterday. he looked like he hadn't slept in four days. completely tuned out."

your grip on the curling iron tightens so hard your palm aches. he's fine, you tell yourself desperately. he's jay park. he's glad to have his bed back to himself.

an hour later, you're sitting across from jake at a trendy, low-lit taco place downtown. the restaurant is loud, music bouncing off the brick walls. jake is looking at you with that sweet, boyish grin, talking animatedly about his soccer coach's ridiculous training schedule.

he's perfect. he's everything you wanted.

but as the noise of the restaurant swells, jake leans across the small wooden table, his face closing the distance to say something over the music. your brain immediately fires a memory — the heavy weight of jay's chest pressed against your back, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his low voice whispering 'we're in a quiet room, stop playing games with me.'

"hey," jake says, his hand reaching out to lightly tap your wrist. "you there? you looked like you were a million miles away."

"i'm here," you say, forcing a bright, sweet smile onto your face. "sorry, just listening."

when the date ends, jake walks you all the way back to your apartment building. the air on the porch is cool, the dim amber light of the streetlamp casting long shadows over the brick steps. it's the exact setup from a week ago. the final act.

jake stands close, his dark eyes looking down at you with a soft, undeniable affection. he reaches out, his fingers gently tucking a stray curl behind your ear. his hand is nice. it's sweet.

"i had a really great time tonight," jake whispers, leaning in slowly.

your heart spikes, your body automatically going rigid as you realize it’s happening. this is it. the practical application. jake tilts his head, his eyes dropping to your mouth before closing as he bridges the final inch.

his lips press against yours.

it is a perfectly nice kiss. it's gentle, polite, and safe. but as jake's mouth moves against yours, your brain does absolutely nothing. there is no white-hot rush of electricity. there is no heavy, suffocating gravity pulling at your soul. your hands stay flat against your sides, entirely lacking the desperate urge to slide beneath his shirt, to grip his broad shoulders, to tangle into his hair.

jake pulls back after a few seconds, a sweet, satisfied smile on his face. "goodnight," he murmurs, ruffling your hair gently before turning to walk down the steps.

you stand on the porch in the quiet night air, staring at his retreating back. your lips feel completely cold. your skin feels entirely empty. and as you turn the key in your apartment lock, a crushing, definitive truth finally breaks through the last of your defenses.

the lessons didn't prepare you for jake sim. they ruined you for anyone who isn't jay park.

-------

you keep trying.

you really, truly do. you go on a third date with jake to an indie movie theater, and a fourth date where he cooks dinner for you at his apartment. he is everything a boyfriend should be — attentive, sweet, incredibly handsome, and completely respectful. but every time he holds your hand, your fingers feel numb. every time he leans down to kiss you goodnight on your porch, your mind is a completely flat, silent room.

there are no shivers. there is no gravelly voice whispering “breathe, newbie” against your skin. there is no heavy, intoxicating scent of sandalwood.

you are physically with jake sim, but you are entirely haunted by jay park.

you miss him. you miss him so much it feels like a physical ache in the center of your chest. you miss the arrogant, lazy smirks that you eventually learned how to kiss right off his face. you miss the way his large, warm hands felt sliding underneath your sweater. you miss the breathless, quiet aftercare where he would just stroke your hair and tell you you did perfect.

you haven't received a single text from him in two weeks. your chat history sits at the bottom of your messages, a cold, clinical reminder of "the original purpose."

then comes tuesday afternoon.

you’re sitting on the living room rug of your apartment, your knees pulled to your chest as you stare blankly at a textbook you haven't actually read a page of in thirty minutes. yunjin is sitting on the couch right behind you, painting her toenails a vibrant shade of cherry red.

the apartment is completely quiet except for the rhythmic swipe, swipe of her nail brush.

"hey," yunjin speaks up suddenly, not looking up from her pinky toe. "so, i ran into jake at the gym earlier today."

your shoulders instantly tighten. "oh. yeah?"

"yeah. he was glowing, honestly," yunjin says, finally capping the nail polish and leaning back against the cushions. she looks down at the top of your head, her sharp eyes narrowing in a familiar, hyper-observant squint. "he said things are going amazingly with you. he literally told me you're the most perfect, sweet girl he’s ever met."

you let out a tiny, hollow sound that is supposed to be a laugh, but it sounds incredibly sad. "that's... nice."

"so..." yunjin trails off, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. her voice drops into a lighter, teasing tone. "come on. spill. how are the advanced lessons going? did jay's theoretical tutoring actually work? did he give you the magic playbook or what?"

at the mention of his name, something inside you completely snaps.

the two weeks of suffocating guilt, the crushing weight of the lies, the phantom feeling of jay's mouth on yours, and the sheer, exhausting misery of pretending to be happy with jake all come crashing down at once. your eyes suddenly sting with hot, angry tears, and a shaky, broken sob escapes your throat before you can even think to mask it.

yunjin freezes. her jaw practically drops to the floor as she watches your shoulders violently shake, your face burying themselves into your knees.

"wait— oh my god, hey," yunjin stammers, instantly sliding off the couch and dropping to the rug beside you. she wraps a panicked arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "what's wrong? did jake do something? did he hurt you? i will literally fight him right now—"

"no!" you sob out, your voice muffled and thick with tears as you shake your head against your knees. "no, jake didn't do anything! jake is perfect! he's so sweet!"

"then why are you crying like someone died?" yunjin asks, completely bewildered, her hand rubbing your back in a comforting motion. "if jake is perfect, what's wrong?"

you lift your head, your face a catastrophic, tear-stained shade of purple, your chest heaving as you look at your best friend.

"it's jay," you choke out, the truth finally tearing its way out of your chest.

yunjin blinks, her eyebrows furrowing in deep confusion. "jay? jay park? what does he have to do with you crying about jake?"

"the lessons," you whisper, a fresh wave of tears spilling over your lashes. "they... they weren't theoretical, yunjin. i lied to you. i lied to everyone."

yunjin’s entire body goes completely still. her grip on your shoulder tightens as she stares at you, the dots in her highly perceptive brain suddenly trying to connect a picture she never expected to see. "what do you mean they weren't theoretical?"

"we... we did a practical lesson, a lot of them, actually," you confess, your voice cracking with pure, unadulterated embarrassment, but the relief of finally saying it out loud is a physical weight lifting off your lungs. "the first few weeks were just talking, but then... when he was telling me how to kiss someone correctly, i panicked because i thought i'd be bad at kissing jake. so i asked jay for a real example. and he kissed me."

yunjin’s eyes widen to the size of literal dinner saucers. "jay kissed you?"

"yes," you whine, covering your face with your hands. "and then it happened again. and again. and then we started meeting almost every single day. we weren't even studying anymore, yunjin. i would sit on his lap for a whole hour and we just made out on and on. and then last week... we... we did some more things, and he showed me what felt good for me, too. with his hands, and his— his mouth."

yunjin lets out a sharp, breathless gasp, her hand flying over her mouth. she looks completely, utterly flabbergasted, her jaw practically unhinged. "oh my god. oh my god. you and jay... you guys were sleeping together?"

"not all the way! but yes!" you cry out, pulling your hands away from your face, looking at her desperately. "and the whole time, i kept telling myself it was for jake. i kept saying 'oh, i'm just a newbie getting hands-on experience so i can be good for jake'. i even tried to touch myself thinking about jake afterwards, but yunjin... when i closed my eyes, all i could see was jay. i saw his face, and his hair, and his nose scar."

yunjin is staring at you like you’ve just spoken to her in a foreign language. she is completely speechless, processing the absolute bombshell you just dropped into her living room.

"so... so i stopped the lessons, everything," you whisper, your voice dropping to a broken, miserable murmur as you look down at your lap. "i texted him and told him i had to focus on jake. and he just said okay. and now i'm going on these dates with jake, and he's so nice, yunjin, he really is... but i… don't feel anything. when jake kisses me, it's just... cold. i don't want jake to touch me. i just want jay. i miss him so much it hurts, and i'm a horrible person because i used him as a textbook and now i've completely ruined everything."

you bury your face back in your hands, your shoulders shaking as you let the final wave of tears take over, waiting for yunjin to lecture you, to tell you how reckless you were, or to tell you how completely messy this entire situation is.

instead, yunjin lets out a long, slow, and incredibly deep exhale. she reaches out, gently pulling your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at her. the initial shock on her face has melted away, replaced by a look of sheer, unbelievable realization.

"my love," yunjin says slowly, her voice completely serious. "are you actually an idiot?"

you blink through your tears, sniffing. "what?"

"you think you used jay park?" yunjin asks, letting out a wild, disbelieving laugh. "are we talking about the same jay park? the guy who has half the girls on the humanities campus begging for a text back? the guy who doesn't let anyone into his personal space, let alone his dorm room?"

you wipe your eyes with the back of your sleeve, confused. "but... it was a casual thing. he was just being a good instructor..."

"oh my god, you are a literal child," yunjin groans, throwing her hands up in the air. "listen to me. jay fucking park did not give you a 'practical lesson' because he cares about your future with jake sim. he did not spend an hour letting you straddle his lap and eat his face because he’s a dedicated tutor. he did those things because he is completely, utterly obsessed with you, you absolute moron!"

the conversation with yunjin stays ringing in your ears for the rest of the week, a loud, echoing truth that makes your chest feel completely hollow. he is completely, utterly obsessed with you. you want to believe it. god, you want to believe it so bad, but the memory of his final text — ‘good luck this weekend, newbie. drive him crazy.’ — stands like a massive brick wall between you and room 314.

and then, jake texts you.

it’s not a casual, low-effort ‘grab coffee?’ or a late-night invite to watch him play soccer. he sends a long, beautifully constructed message, asking you on a proper, official date to a high-end jazz lounge downtown that requires a reservation weeks in advance. he tells you he’s been noticing your new confidence lately — the way you hold yourself, the lingering eye contact, the ease in your posture — and that he likes you. a lot. he wants to make things official.

a month ago, a text like that would have made you collapse onto your bedroom floor in pure, unadulterated ecstasy. it was the ultimate finish line. the exact gold medal you had been sweating and crying for under jay's brutal, meticulous guidance.

so, you say yes. you force yourself to put on your prettiest dress, you spend an hour doing your makeup, and you walk down the steps of your building to meet jake’s car.

the jazz lounge is beautiful. the dim, amber lighting reflects off the polished mahogany tables, the music is soft and smooth, and jake looks incredibly handsome in a dark blazer. he handles the evening perfectly. he pulls out your chair, he orders the best wine on the menu, and he looks at you with a heavy, sweet admiration that makes your cheeks warm.

"you look absolutely stunning tonight," jake murmurs, reaching across the white tablecloth to gently squeeze your fingers. "honestly, i feel like a different girl walked down the steps today. you've always been gorgeous, but lately... there's just something about you. you're so captivating."

you force a soft smile, nodding your head. "thank you, jake. that's... really sweet."

but as his fingers linger on yours, the crushing reality of the evening finally settles over you.

it’s nice. it’s objectively perfect. but it feels completely, utterly empty.

you sit there, listening to the saxophone player on the stage, and you find yourself looking at the way jake laughs. it’s a nice laugh, but it doesn't make your stomach do a violent, hot flip. you look at his hands, and you realize you don't have the slightest urge to slip your fingers beneath his cuffs. you look at his lips, and the thought of his mouth on yours doesn't make your breath catch.

and in that exact, agonizing moment, the grand illusion you've been clinging to for weeks finally shatters into a million jagged pieces.

you aren't projecting. you aren't using jay as a proxy.

you are deeply, completely, and irrevocably in love with park jay.

the realization hits you with the force of a physical blow, making your breath leave your lungs in a sharp, silent gasp. it isn't just about the mechanics or the white-hot heat of his mattress. it’s the way his dark eyes soften into a fierce, protective warmth whenever you look up at him through your lashes. it’s the patient, steady way he guides you when you panic, never pushing, always making sure you feel safe. it’s the quiet, breathless aftercare where he brushes the hair from your forehead, calling you sweetheart in a voice so thick and honest it makes your soul ache. it’s the easy, effortless way you laugh together between the heavy tension, the real, undeniable connection that you built brick by brick in that small, sandalwood-scented dorm room.

jay didn't teach you how to love jake sim. jay taught you how to love him.

"hey," jake's voice breaks through your thoughts, his brow furrowing with genuine concern as he leans in closer. "are you okay? you're really pale suddenly."

you look at jake — at his kind, sweet face — and you realize that staying here, pretending to be the girl he wants, is the cruelest thing you could possibly do to him. you can't live a lie anymore. the script is over.

"jake," you whisper, your voice trembling as you gently pull your hand back from his grip. "i'm... i'm so sorry. i can't do this."

jake blinks, completely caught off guard. "what? did i say something wrong?"

"no, you're perfect," you say, a tear finally spilling over your lashes as you grab your purse from the back of the chair. "you are absolutely wonderful, jake, i swear. but... my heart is somewhere else. it’s been somewhere else for a long time, and it’s not fair to keep dragging you into it. i’m so, so sorry."

before he can even process the words, you stand up from the table and walk — almost run — straight out of the jazz lounge, leaving the music behind you.

the moment you hit the cool night air of the sidewalk, you don't call a cab. you don't go back to your apartment to cry to yunjin. you sprint.

your heels click loudly against the concrete as you rush toward the west quad, your lungs burning, your heart hammering a desperate, terrifying rhythm against your ribs. the wind completely ruins your curled hair, and your breath comes in short, ragged gasps, but you don't care. the only thing that matters is the distance between you and room 314, and you need to eliminate it right now.

you burst through the heavy glass doors of his building, practically flying up the stairs three at a time because the elevator is too slow, too claustrophobic for the sudden, desperate panic roaring through your veins.

you reach the third floor, your chest heaving as you run down the carpeted hallway until you're standing directly in front of his heavy wooden door.

you don't wait to compose yourself. you don't brace your shoulders or try to be normal. you lift your shaking hand and knock against the wood, loudly, your whole body trembling in the quiet corridor.

the heavy wooden door swings open almost immediately, the sudden movement revealing jay standing in the entryway. he’s wearing an oversized black hoodie and matching sweatpants, his dark hair messy as if he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly.

the second his dark eyes lock onto you, he freezes. his gaze sweeps over your ruined curls, the formal dress you’re wearing, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and the fresh tears spilling over your cheeks.

"newbie?" jay rasps, his voice completely stripping of its usual calm, unbothered composure. he steps forward, his hands instantly coming up to hover near your shoulders, completely shocked. "what— what are you doing here? why are you crying? did something happen with jake? did he hurt you? i swear to god i'll kill—"

"i'm in love with you," you blurts out, the words tearing out of your throat in a shaky, breathless sob before he can even finish his sentence.

jay stops dead in his tracks. his hands freeze in mid-air, his jaw dropping open just a fraction as his entire body goes completely rigid. the quiet corridor feels extremely silent, the heavy weight of your words hanging in the space between you.

"i'm in love with you," you repeat, a fresh wave of hot tears blurring your vision as you look up at his face. you feel incredibly shy, completely stripped of your armor, your voice dropping to a small, trembling whisper. "i went on the date with jake. he was perfect, jay. he took me to that jazz lounge, and he held my hand, and he told me i was beautiful... but it felt completely empty. i didn't want him to touch me. i didn't want him to kiss me. because the whole time, the only person i could think about was you. i thought about how you look at me, and how safe i feel when you hold me, and... and i realized i've been lying to myself for weeks. i don't want jake. i want you. i've always wanted you."

jay stares down at you, his expression completely blank for three long, agonizing seconds. you feel a sudden, terrifying wave of panic hit your stomach, convinced you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.

then, jay’s shoulders start to shake.

he drops his head back, a sudden, sharp bark of laughter escaping his lips. he keeps laughing, a breathless, rough sound that makes your heart sink into your shoes. he’s laughing at me, you think completely mortified, stepping back a fraction. yunjin was wrong, he thinks i'm pathetic—

before you can even take a full step away, jay moves.

his large hands shoot forward, wrapping securely around your waist, and with one heavy, desperate pull, he yanks you forward into his dorm room. the door slams shut behind you with a loud, final click, and suddenly, you are crushed completely against his broad chest.

jay wraps his strong arms around you, burying his face deep into the crook of your neck, holding you so tight it’s almost bruising. you can feel the heavy, erratic thumping of his heart against your ribs, his whole body trembling slightly as he holds you like you’re about to disappear.

"jay?" you squeak out, your hands hesitantly coming up to clutch at the thick fabric of his black hoodie.

"i'm not laughing at you, newbie," jay murmurs against your skin, his voice thick, ragged, and completely devoid of his usual arrogance. he lets out another low, disbelieving chuckle right into your hair, his grip tightening. "i'm just... i'm in complete disbelief. i can't believe you're actually standing here saying this to me."

he slowly draws his head back, keeping his large hands firmly anchored on your waist so you can't move away. his dark eyes are incredibly heavy, looking down at your tear-stained face with a raw, consuming tenderness that completely melts your heart.

"you are such a moron," jay whispers, a soft, beautiful smile finally breaking across his sharp features. "you really thought this was all just a clinical lesson for me? you think i let you straddle my lap for a whole hour because i'm a dedicated tutor?"

you sniff, looking up at him through your lashes. "yunjin said..."

"yunjin was right," jay interrupts softly, his thumb rising to gently wipe away a stray tear from your cheek, his touch unbelievably sweet. "i’ve liked you for weeks, sweetheart. even a month, probably. do you have any idea what it was like for me to sit in that chair and listen to you ramble on about jake sim every single week? i hated it. i hated every single time his name left your mouth. i wanted to throw him across the campus every time you showed me a text from him."

you blink, your heart spiking. "then why didn't you say anything?"

"because i was terrified," jay admits honestly, his jaw clenching slightly as his dark eyes lock onto yours. "you came to me so innocent, so focused on this dream you had of being with him. i was so scared that if i told you how i felt, i would pressure you. i was scared i'd ruin your confidence, or make you feel trapped in the lessons. i didn't want to hurt your feelings. so when you texted me on monday saying you were done..."

he pauses, his breathing turning shallow as he leans his forehead lightly against yours, his hot breath fanning across your lips.

"i was resigned," he whispers, his voice dropping to a gravelly, vulnerable register. "i decided to just let you go to him. i thought, if jake makes her happy, i'll just step back and let her have her perfect boyfriend. it almost killed me, newbie. i haven't slept a full hour since monday."

hearing his confession makes your chest ache with a sudden, overwhelming wave of love. you lift your hands, your fingers tangling deep into the soft, dark hair at the back of his neck, pulling him that final, microscopic inch closer.

"you don't have to let me go," you whisper directly against his lips. "i'm right here."

"yeah," jay murmurs, his dark eyes flashing with that familiar, possessive heat right before his mouth crashes onto yours. "you're right here."

the weight of his confession still hangs in the air of his room, but the heavy emotional armor you’ve both been wearing for weeks has completely shattered. your fingers are knotted so tightly in the dark hair at the back of his neck that your knuckles ache, your body pulling flush against his broad chest until there is absolutely no space left between you.

jay doesn't give you a single second to breathe. the moment your lips touch, the familiar, intoxicating taste of him rushes over you, but this time, the desperate restraint he had been clinging to during the "lessons" is completely gone. his mouth crashes into yours with a raw, possessive hunger that makes your knees instantly turn to water. it isn't a demonstration. it isn't a baseline. it is a fierce, consuming claim that leaves you both dizzy.

"jay," you gasp against his lips, a soft, helpless sound escaping your throat as his mouth slides hungrily down your jawline, his teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin right beneath your ear.

"i've got you," jay rasps, his voice an incredibly deep, gravelly vibration against your neck. "i've got you, sweetheart. you're not going anywhere."

his large hands slide down from your waist, his broad palms gripping the undersides of your thighs with a sudden, bruising force. with one effortless, powerful lift, jay hoists you completely off the ground. you let out a sharp gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries you the three short steps over to his bed, collapsing both of you onto the unmade blankets.

the impact is soft, but the physical heat between you is instantly blinding. jay hovers directly over you, his heavy frame anchoring you to the mattress, his dark hair falling messy across his forehead as he looks down at your flushed, breathless face. his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, blazing with a fierce, protective intensity that makes your heart thump wildly against your ribs.

"look at you," jay whispers, his chest heaving under his black hoodie as his thumb traces the swollen, red curve of your bottom lip. "you're actually here. in my bed. telling me you want me."

"i do," you breathe out, your hands sliding beneath the hem of his hoodie to press your bare palms flat against the warm, defined muscles of his lower back. "i want you so bad, jay."

a low, ragged growl catches in his throat at the touch of your bare skin. he leans back down, his mouth devouring yours in a deep, wet, frantic rhythm that completely shatters the last of your control. his tongue slides possessively over yours, guiding your mouth to open wider, drinking in every single soft, broken moan you make.

the physical friction escalates instantly. jay shifts his weight, his heavy hips settling right between your thighs, the thick, rigid length of his arousal pressing hard through his sweatpants directly against your core. your dress is hiked up around your waist, leaving only the thin fabric of your underwear between your bodies. instinctively, a desperate, white-hot hunger takes over your body, and your hips tilt upward, a slow, heavy grind against his lap as you chase the unbearable pressure.

"fuck," jay groans directly into your mouth, his eyes flying shut as his entire body goes completely rigid at the sudden friction. his hands move to your hips, his long fingers digging into your skin to hold you still, but the desperate, needy roll of your pelvis makes a rough, unvarnished swear escape his lips. "newbie... shit, hold on. you're going to break me."

"no," you whine, your hands slipping out from his hoodie to clutch tightly at his broad shoulders, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him through your lashes. "don't stop, jay. please. i've been thinking about this for weeks."

the admission completely breaks his remaining restraint. jay lets out a sharp, ragged exhale and lets his hips move, matching your upward tilts with a heavy, rhythmic grind of his own. the dry humping is agonizingly perfect, the thick, hard pressure of his length rubbing relentlessly against your hyper-sensitive core through the fabric of his clothes. every single slide makes your head spin, your fingers digging deep into the soft cotton of his hoodie as you arch your back off the mattress, a loud, unvarnished cry echoing through the quiet room.

"yes, just like that," jay murmurs, his voice a ragged, breathless rasp as he buries his face back in your neck, his lips pressing a trail of burning, wet kisses along your collarbone. "let me feel you. god, you're so hot, sweetheart. you feel so fucking good."

he shifts the angle of his hips, grinding harder, deeper, targeting the exact spot that makes your whole body tremble. you lose all track of time, completely drowning in the suffocating heat of his body, the rough friction between your thighs, and the intoxicating, raw intimacy of hearing him lose his mind beneath your touch. his chest is heaving violently against yours, his breathing shallow and rough as his hips thrust down in a fast, desperate rhythm that brings you both dangerously close to the edge.

"jay," you sob out, your head tossing back against the pillows, your core weeping with a desperate, heavy ache that dry humping can no longer satisfy. "jay, please. i don't want the clothes anymore. i want to feel you. really feel you."

jay stops his movement instantly. he draws back, his chest rising and falling in deep, ragged gasps as he looks down at you. his face is flushed, his eyes clouded with a fierce, overwhelming hunger, but beneath the passion, that deep, protective tenderness returns with a beautiful clarity.

"newbie," he whispers, his hands gently framing your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears from your cheeks. "are you sure? your first time... i want it to be perfect for you. i don't want to rush this."

"i'm sure," you say, your voice remarkably steady despite the anxious beating of your heart. you look straight into his dark eyes, your fingers rising to gently trace the tiny pale scar on his nose that had given the lie away. "i love you, jay. i want it to be you. teach me the rest."

a profound, heavy silence settles over the room, the raw emotion of your words melting away the last remnants of the old "lessons." this isn't an educational baseline anymore. this is a confession, a complete surrender, and jay handles it with a reverence that makes your eyes sting with happy tears.

"okay," jay whispers, his voice dropping into a soft, beautifully thick register. "okay, sweetheart."

slowly, deliberately, he sits back on his heels. his large, warm hands move to the hem of your dress, gently and carefully sliding the fabric up over your hips, your waist, and over your head, tossing it onto the floor. his eyes track the movement, his gaze raking over your exposed skin with an unvarnished, breathless admiration that makes you feel completely worshiped. he reaches down, his long fingers hooking into the sides of your underwear, easing them down your legs until you are completely bare beneath him.

"you are so beautiful," jay murmurs, his voice shaking slightly as he leans down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your bare stomach. "absolutely perfect."

he stands up briefly, pulling the black hoodie over his head and kicking his sweatpants away, revealing his broad, heavily defined chest and the thick, white-hot length of his arousal. when he slides back onto the mattress, the sheer, raw heat of his naked skin making contact with yours sends a violent shock of adrenaline through your veins.

he hovers over you again, but this time, he doesn't immediately move to progress things. he takes his time. his large, warm hand slides down your side, his palm resting flat against your hip as he gently coaxes your knees apart, sliding his body between your thighs. he leans down, his mouth sealing over yours in a slow, agonizingly sweet kiss that tastes of absolute devotion. his fingers slide down, finding the slick, dripping heat between your legs, and he uses two fingers to slowly stroke your core, priming you, making sure you are completely prepared for him.

"relax for me," jay whispers against your lips, his thumb applying a steady, heavy pressure that makes your hips instinctively lift. "i'm going to go so slow, sweetheart. if it hurts, you tell me to stop. understand?"

"i understand," you whimper, your fingers tangling into his dark hair, pulling his face down so you can kiss him again.

jay pulls his hand away, the sudden loss of contact making you let out a needy whine, but then you feel the heavy, smooth head of his shaft aligning directly against your tight, wet opening. the sheer thickness of him makes your breath hitch, your hands instantly clutching at the firm muscles of his shoulders.

"look at me," jay commands softly, his voice a low, gravelly purr.

you blink your eyes open, your vision slightly blurry from the sheer intensity of the moment, to find him staring down at you with a consuming, fierce possessiveness. his dark eyes are entirely focused on yours, locking you in place.

slowly, with an agonizingly careful, steady pressure, jay sinks his hips down.

the initial stretch is tight, a sharp, white-hot pinch of discomfort making your eyes widen as a soft, broken gasp escapes your parted lips. your body automatically tenses beneath him, your fingers digging deep into the skin of his shoulders.

instantly, jay stops. he freezes in place, only a fraction of his length inside you, his jaw clenching hard as he battles his own primal urge to thrust. a thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin, but his entire focus remains totally on your comfort.

"i know, i know," jay murmurs sweetly, his face dipping down to press a series of soft, comforting kisses to your eyelids, your burning cheeks, and the tip of your nose. "breathe through your nose, newbie. just like i taught you. let your body adapt to me."

he reaches down, his large hand finding your core again, his thumb rubbing slow, heavy circles against your sensitive skin while he stays perfectly still inside you. the steady, masterful friction slowly melts away the sharp pinch, replacing the discomfort with a deep, heavy wave of slick, throbbing heat. your muscles slowly relax, opening up around him, practically begging for the rest of his weight.

"jay," you whisper, your hips giving a tiny, tentative upward nudge. "more. please."

"good girl," jay rasps, a low, broken hum of absolute approval escaping his chest.

he shifts his hands, wrapping his long fingers securely around your waist, anchoring you to the mattress. slowly, smoothly, he pushes his hips down the rest of the way, burying his entire length deep inside your tight, wet heat. a loud, unvarnished cry tears out of your throat, your legs instinctively wrapping tightly around his waist to pull him even closer as the sheer, overwhelming fullness of him completely consumes your senses.

jay lets out a deep, guttural groan, his head burying themselves into the crook of your neck as he stays completely buried inside you for three long, breathless seconds, letting you adjust to the magnificent weight of him.

"you're so tight, sweetheart," jay whispers, his voice completely ungrounded, shaking with a raw emotion that has absolutely nothing to do with a lesson. "you feel so perfect around me. fuck. you're mine. you know that, right? you're completely mine now."

"i'm yours," you sob out, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heart beneath your fingers. "i'm yours, jay."

when he finally begins to move, it is the furthest thing from the clinical, calculated pacing of before. it is slow, incredibly deep, and heavy with a fierce, possessive passion. jay draws his hips back until he is almost entirely out, making you let out a needy, panicked gasp, before sliding back in with a long, smooth stroke that drives straight to the center of your ache.

“ah— jay!” you cry out, your head tossing back against the pillows as the relentless, deep rhythm takes over the small room.

he guides you through every single movement. when your breathing gets too frantic, jay uses his grip on your waist to lift your hips slightly, slowing the pace down, lingering deep inside you until your breath catches in sync with his. his mouth is everywhere — kissing your lips, your jaw, biting softly on your neck, leaving dark, faint marks on your skin that say louder than words exactly who you belong to.

"you're doing so good for me, baby," jay praises you, his voice a heavy rumble right against your ear. his breathing is completely shattered, his chest slick with sweat as it crushes against yours with every single deep, driving thrust. "look at you. you're taking all of me so perfectly. so pretty for me, sweetheart."

the explicit, loving praises send jolts of pure electricity straight down your spine. you grow bolder, your fingers digging into his hips as you match his pace, lifting your pelvis to meet his downward thrusts, creating a flawless, sharp friction that completely breaks his remaining restraint.

the pacing quickly turns heated, the slow tenderness fracturing beneath a sudden, overwhelming wave of raw, unadulterated passion. jay's dark brows furrow in a look of pure agony, swears escaping his lips with every single heavy, pounding thrust. he moves faster, deeper, his hips crashing against yours with a bruising, desperate force that makes the entire bed shake.

"jay... jay, i'm close," you sob out, the tight, hot knot in your lower stomach coiling so tightly you can barely breathe. your fingers tangle desperately into his damp hair, pulling him down, needing his mouth on yours as your climax approaches.

jay snaps his eyes open, his dark gaze locking onto yours with a terrifying, beautiful amount of gravity. "look at me," he rasps, his hips thrusting deep, holding you completely still beneath him. "look at me when you break, sweetheart. let me see you."

you look up through your lashes, staring straight into his cloudless, fierce eyes as he delivers three fast, incredibly deep thrusts. the coiling tension inside you completely snaps, a blinding wave of pure, white-hot release crashing over your entire body. you let out a loud, broken cry, your inner muscles clamping tightly around his length in violent, pulsing spasms.

the sudden, tight friction completely breaks jay's remaining control. he lets out a deep, guttural cry against your mouth, his jaw clenching so hard the veins stand out against his neck as his hips give one final, breathless thrust, burying himself as deep as physically possible inside you as his own release hits him.

jay stays buried deep inside you for a long moment, his chest pressed flush against your back as both of you come down from the high. his lips brush lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder, like he can’t stop touching you even now.

“are you okay, pretty?” he murmurs, voice rough and low against your skin.

you nod, still catching your breath, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “more than okay.”

he hums in satisfaction and carefully pulls out, immediately rolling you over so you’re facing him. his large hand slides up your side, gentle and possessive at the same time, as he tucks you against his chest. for a while, neither of you speaks. the only sounds are your slowing heartbeats and the distant hum of campus life outside his window.

jay’s fingers trace slow circles on your bare back.

“so,” he says after a long beat, that familiar lazy grin creeping into his voice, “how do you feel now that you’ve graduated from my lessons?”

you let out a soft laugh, hiding your burning face in the crook of his neck. “i feel like an idiot.”

“yeah?” he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. “took you long enough to figure it out.”

you pull back just enough to look at him, your fingers brushing the tiny scar on his nose. “why didn’t you say anything sooner? all those weeks… you just kept teaching me like it didn’t kill you every time i mentioned jake.”

jay’s expression softens. he cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin with surprising tenderness.

“because you came to me wanting help to get another guy,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t going to be the asshole who messed with your head while you were vulnerable. even if it sucked. even if i wanted to throw my laptop across the room every time you showed me his texts.”

he leans in and kisses you slowly, deeply — nothing like the heated frenzy from earlier. this one feels like a promise.

when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

“for the record,” he murmurs, smiling again, “you were never going to end up with jake. not after the first time you asked me for a ‘practical example.’ i knew it then. you were already mine.”

you groan, embarrassed but smiling. “you’re so cocky.”

“and you love it.”

you do.

jay pulls the blanket higher over your shoulders and wraps both arms around you, holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. his lips brush your temple.

“no more lessons,” he whispers. “no more pretending. just this. just us.”

you press a soft kiss to his collarbone, already drifting off in the warmth of his embrace.

“just us,” you echo.

as sleep starts to pull you under, you feel jay smile against your hair.

“goodnight, newbie.”

you smile sleepily.

“goodnight, professor park.”

© jongst4r, 2026

This is… not an ideal situation for you. You have just been made aware, not asked, made aware, of the fact that you will be marrying Kuai Liang of the Shirai Ryu. It has been arranged between your family and the clan, and they both left you out of the conversation. To be fair, it could be worse, you know Kuai and have for a bit now but you did not foresee this coming. The shock of the situation and neglect to include you in the conversation is what has you upset the most.

Also, the fact that Kuai didn’t mention this to you at all? Is odd, you are close with him and you’ve always thought of him as your good friend, so to have him not bring up being arranged to marry him, at all… is upsetting and suspicious. But in the end, it’s not like what you think matters, considering this has already been decided for you and you’d really rather not kick up a fuss. It wouldn’t end well for you.

Picking your battles is smart, it’s a philosophy you live by and going against your father… is a battle you would not win, not this time anyways. You can tell, when he looks you in the eyes to tell you what is happening, he is not concerned with your feelings, he is only telling you the reality of what is going to happen.

At least it is not a stranger but somehow it’s not that much better, since Kuai didn’t tell you. You suppose, he probably has his reasons but you can’t get over being passed around like property, it’s sad, it makes you sad that your father is casting you off so easily and it also makes you sad that Kuai is, compliant with it, at the very least.

“This is something that will be happening,” your fathers voice is stern, even.

You look him in the eyes, firm, resolute, “I am aware and I will not resist but that does not mean I am happy, and I will not lie and say I am either.”

He is unmoved by your voiced displeasure, “You will do whatever makes this process go smoothly and you will do what you are told.”

You feel, so much right now but your face remains emotionless, unwilling to break in front of your father, “Fine but I am going to tell you right now, to me, this is unforgivable.”

Your father raises a brow at you, feeling no sympathy, “I do not need your forgiveness, I have done nothing wrong.”

He is unbelievable, so you tell him, “I hope one day, you will see how wrong you are but for now I will live with the fact that you have cast off your only daughter to be wed without her consent.”

“And I hope one day, you understand my actions and realise you are being a petulant child,” he retorts.

You ignore him and his rude statement, “If there is nothing further to be discussed, I would like to leave.”

He waves a dismissive hand at you, “Yes, fine, leave.”

Standing to your feet, you leave the formal dining area. He had asked you there under false pretences, you had expected a nice afternoon chat with your dad over tea and instead he dropped this bomb on you. After you shut the door, you head towards the garden, needing fresh air and solace to collect your thoughts. This is going to be a… trying couple of weeks.

The garden is quiet, you sit on an old wooden bench, looking out towards all the greenery. It’s a nice garden, your mother has worked hard on tending to it, the flowers are beautiful, at least they usually are. None of the flowers are blooming at the moment, dead or dormant for the colder months. It fills you with a sense of melancholy to know you are not going to see this garden as frequently after your marriage.

You’re facing the entrance currently and so you can see when Kuai Liang is making his way towards you. Normally, you would be pleased to see him but after the news you’ve just received, you are… maybe not unhappy to see him but certainly not excited either and he can tell as much when he looks to you, his demeanour sheepish as he approaches.

“I’m guessing your father has told you,” he says, standing in front of you.

You look up to him, “You mean that we have new tea?” you say sardonically before continuing, “Or maybe you are referring to the fact that I am supposed to be marrying you within the next few weeks, something that has been in the works for a couple of weeks without my knowledge and not only that but the fact that this will result in me having to leave my home and move somewhere unfamiliar, with people I do not know well?” Your face displays no extreme emotions but your tone is filled with threatening politeness.

There’s a few moments of silence, Kuai only looks at you, not knowing what to say to make this better and to be quite frank, there is nothing that will make you feel better at this current moment.

Your expression changes to a more easy going one, “Yes, he told me.”

Kuai sighs, “He was meant to wait for me, I wanted to speak with you first.”

“Well, that is where you went wrong,” you wave a hand at him, explaining, “He has to be the one to do things first, he was never going to let you tell me this.” Your father has an odd complex, he has the only say in things and he will be the first one to inform others of what they are to do. ‘Orders’ come from him and him alone.

Distantly, you wonder if he told you first because it will be the last ‘order’ he can give you before you are given away to another man. This is gross, it feels like swapping handlers, you feel as though you have no freedom and that all the times your father had told you, that you were so much more than just a woman, just a future wife, were lies. Like he meant none of it.

It feels as though, the relationship with your father will never be the same again and coming to terms with that is going to be hard.

You pat the spot beside you on the bench, “Sit down.”

“Thank you,” Kuai replies, sitting cautiously beside you.

It’s awkward between the two of you, mostly because you can tell Kuai has more to say but you won’t even look in his direction, which is making it hard for him to gain an opening to talk. It feels mean, but you know what else feels mean? Getting betrothed to a friend and not being told, even though he knew it was happening.

You sigh beside him, “Kuai, are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” he doesn’t hesitate in answering.

“What about you and Harumi?” You were pretty sure they had something going on between the two of them.

He’s looking at you, “What about her?”

Your eyes stay forward but you really want to look at him and roll them dramatically, “What do you mean ‘what about her’? Everyone was pretty sure you two were going to wed.”

He turns his own face forward, looking out to the garden, “We are just friends, nothing more.”

“Be honest with yourself Kuai, I don’t want to be the reason you miss your chance at love.” You feel empty, this isn’t how you wanted to marry and it will suck even more if Kuai doing this causes him to miss out on love.

He is unconcerned by your hesitations, his tone even when he speaks, “I do not feel that way, not for Harumi.”

“But you feel that way for someone?” He doesn’t reply, “My concern is still warranted then.” You finish, his silence a clear indication that he feels some type of way for someone.

He wavers for a moment, going to say something before deciding against it.

You talk before him, making yourself clear, “If you still want to go through with this, in spite of your feelings for someone else, then that is fine. I will do whatever is asked of me but I want you to know… I think you should marry the person you love.”

Kuai stands up from the bench, his back to you, “Your concern is noted.” Is all he says before he walks away.

You’re left in the garden by yourself, Kuai has walked off, assumedly leaving for the day, he seemed to be getting annoyed at your pushing. The mention of him not marrying the person he loves probably displeasing him, which is fair but he also has the power to stop this from happening. This is all very confusing for you, no one even told you it was happening and now it seems like both your father and Kuai are neglecting to tell you everything. Neglecting to tell you the things that would have all of this making sense. Typical men.

At least the air around you is fresh, cold, but fresh and it’s helping to calm you down. Both the conversations between Kuai and your father not going well has upset you but at least the cool breeze is relieving, it’s what you need to gather yourself before moving forward. You’ll just have to look on the bright side… which you will do, when you find out what the bright side is. Because so far there doesn’t seem to be anything bright about this situation but maybe that is just your bad mood talking.

You stay in the garden for a while, thinking about all the things that are about to change for you. The actual wedding won’t be for a few weeks but that doesn’t mean you get to stay here; your father informed you that you have one week left here and then you are to be moved to the Shirai Ryu village. An upsetting fact but you will cope, at least you will know some of the people there. And by some, you mean Tomas, Raiden and Harumi, everyone else is a stranger but it’s better than nothing.

₊ ⊹

When you head back to the house, everyone is waiting at the dinner table for you and by everyone, you mean Kuai is also sat at the table. He had stayed, apparently and now you have to sit through a very uncomfortable dinner with your mother, father and Kuai – your soon to be husband.

Sighing lightly and mostly to yourself, you move to your usual spot, sat across from Kuai, your mother and father sit at either end of the table. Judging by the atmosphere of the room already, this is going to be a long dinner.

Looking to Kuai, you can’t read much about how he is feeling. He is stoic and looks to be calm, but you can’t tell if he really feels that way or if everything he is feeling, is occurring internally. His eyes lock onto yours and you hold his gaze, wanting to challenge him, his eyes are unmoving and firm. You keep looking at him but you need to blink, you try holding out for as long as you can before your eyes start to water and you have to close them.

When you look back at him, one of his brows are raised humorously at you, entertained by your poor attempt at a staring competition. It wasn’t your initial intent to try and start a staring contest, only wanting to display your irritation for this situation but now you’re even more annoyed that you couldn’t get him to blink before you. You aren’t even convinced he’s blinked yet, weirdo.

Scowling lightly, you look away from him and down to your food. Your parents have been talking but you haven’t really been listening, all your attention was on Kuai Liang and his stupid face. Why he has stayed eludes you but you’re sure you will find out soon enough, it’s too late for him to leave now, he’ll probably stay the night and he’ll probably want to speak with you again before he leaves, presumably tomorrow.

“Are you paying attention to me?” Your fathers voice booms from the head of the table.

Your posture shoots up and your head flicks in his direction to look at him, you don’t know how to tell him you weren’t. He seems very angry, he’s never raised his voice like that to you before, his behaviour is starting to distress you.

Kuai speaks for you, trying to help, “It was my fault, I was distracting her.”

Your father is displeased though, you can tell by the way the corner of his eye twitches slightly and how his mouth pulls up, he goes to say something but your mother talks over him, “Now, I think that is quite enough, let’s eat and they can talk later, hmm?” She poses it like a question but it isn’t one, she’s telling him what to do right now and he concedes, like he most often does when it comes to your mother.

Dinner is silent and uncomfortable and you want to rip your eyes out of your head because this is the worst thing you’ve had to sit through. Last time you felt like this was when your parents had been arguing for weeks straight and then suddenly stopped, choosing to punish each other silently instead… which was somehow, way worse than the yelling and bickering.

You chance a glance up to Kuai and he’s already looking at you, his eyes are sympathetic to you and how uncomfortable you must feel but you feel worse for him. This isn’t his house or his family, it must be incredibly painful to try and eat dinner with a family that is currently annoyed with each other.

Taking initiative, you push back from your seat, “I’d like to talk with Kuai now, privately.” You squint at your father, frustration with him palpable.

“Thank your mother for dinner first,” he mumbles out.

Turning to your mother, you graciously say, “Thank you for dinner, it was lovely.”

“You’re very welcome,” she smiles and scrunches her nose at you affectionately.

As you round behind her chair, you kiss the top of her head before grabbing Kuai’s hand and tugging him off after you, he makes sure to thank your parents as he’s pulled along. You don’t look back and continue dragging him behind you, leading him to your room. It will be quiet there and you can maybe get some answers out of him.

“Where are you taking me?” He’s being pliant, letting you continue to lead him, even though he very easily could get you to stop in your tracks.

You try ignoring him but he tugs back a bit, showing you just how easily he could stop complying with you. Groaning and without looking back at him, you say, “My room.”

He stops all at once and your back collides with his chest. He doesn’t move though, not even taking a step back from you falling into him. He leans down behind you, mouth next to your ear, “Is that appropriate?”

His voice is deep and sets you on edge, a shiver threatening to run down your spine at the low timbre of his voice. You suppress it as best you can before turning your face to the side, both of you close like this. You thought he would pull away from you but he doesn’t, he doesn’t move an inch. His eyes are lidded as he looks at you, it feels like his gaze is burning through you.

Your head flicks forward, not able to handle the way he was looking at you just now, all the blood in your body feels like it’s rushed to your face. He pulls away from you, a hand landing on your shoulder. You gather yourself quickly and tell him, “It is appropriate, I have questions and you have answers.”

One of your hands grabs his from your shoulder and you walk off again, he trails silently behind you this time, letting you drag him around. His hand is very warm, warmer than before, he’d be handy to have close by this winter. You suppose that could be a bright side, you’re marrying a pyromancer in the middle of winter. It’s not much but the thought makes you smile.

When you approach your room, you open the door to let him in first and tell him to sit anywhere. You follow in behind him, shutting the door and turning to look at him. He is awkwardly standing in the middle of your room; he seems to be having trouble deciding where to sit. You watch him struggle for a bit, before he seemingly decides to just stand.

Laughing to yourself, you walk up to him and push on his chest, he walks back until his legs hit the edge of your bed, “Sit.” You tell him.

He sits down, carefully, eyes looking up into yours, “You are demanding.”

You roll your eyes at him and move across the room, when you come back, you’re dragging a chair you had kept in the corner. You place it in front of him and sit down, crossing one leg over the other. His eyes watch the way your legs move before looking back to you.

Kuai’s frame is still, not moving and very clearly not relaxed. It’s funny, looking at this large man sit uncomfortably on your bed. He shuffles a bit from side to side, trying to make the best of his situation.

“Do you want the chair?” You ask, taking pity on him.

He looks to you, “I am fine…”

You get up anyways and move over to him, offering your hand to pull him up. He takes it but pulls you down beside him instead, your outer thigh is pressed against his. You jostle against him a bit, the mattress bouncing lightly with your weight and the force of Kuai’s pull.

You pull your hand from his and gently slap at his shoulder, “What was that for?”

“I told you I was fine.”

“Whatever, go sit in the chair,” you huff out.

“No, I am comfortable here,” he says, amused as you sigh exasperatedly at him.

You cave, letting him do whatever he wants, “Fine.”

“What did you want to know?” He asks, redirecting the conversation.

Your posture slouches a bit, already wanting the conversation to be over, “Why didn’t you tell me? That I am to marry you?” you pause for a moment before continuing, “You have known for weeks now, I see you every week and have done for a while now. Did you not think this was something I would have liked to know about?”

He thinks for a moment, on how to phrase his words, “You deserved to know… but I did not have much of a choice.”

That confuses you, so you clarify, “In getting engaged to me?”

He shakes his head as he answers quickly, “No, no that is my choice… it was not my choice to keep it from you, your father decided that.” He doesn’t look thrilled by your fathers choice.

Your voice feels small, “You could have told me anyways.”

“No, I could not have. You are amazing…” he places a hand on your knee and squeezes,

You squint at him, “I feel a ‘but’ coming.”

“But, you are… confrontational?” He sees the way you frown at him when he describes you that way and corrects himself, “Or maybe curious is a better word… you would have wanted to speak with your father as soon as I told you.”

Looking away, you mumble out to him, “If you were worried about my father… I would not have told him, that you told me.”

“It was important to him that I say nothing, he wanted to speak with you… well, together but I suppose he decided against that in the end.” He’s trying to be gentle with you, his voice warm.

Facing him again, your eyes are filled with emotions and you can’t help it, “I am still very confused, he… he never had any intentions of marrying me off.”

“All I can tell you is that he does now, I don’t know what changed for him but I had heard he was looking for… possible suitors for you,” Kuai’s face scrunches up in distaste.

Your voice shakes with your question, “He was going to marry me off to… anyone?”

“I am sure not just anyone… but he was looking, yes.”

Your eyes well with tears, not only are you being given away without regard for your own feelings but he wasn’t even going to… he wasn’t even going to marry you to someone you knew.

Kuai grabs the side of your face tenderly, forcing eye contact between the two of you. A tear slips down your cheek and his thumb rubs it away, stroking your cheek gently. “I know… I know you may be upset with me and maybe what I’ve done is wrong but I offered– I insisted that I be the one you marry.”

Kuai marrying you, Kuai asking to marry you, is a kindness. A favour he is doing for you, to prevent a marriage between yourself and a stranger and as upset as you are with him, you are more upset with your father. Especially since, right now it feels as though Kuai is your only ally.

Your lip quivers a bit, trying to hold back more tears. He shushes you and pulls you to him, his warm arms wrapping around your body and holding you close, keeping you safe. One of his hands rests on the back of your head, stroking it, attempting to comfort and calm you. You reciprocate his hug, wrapping your own arms around his frame and pulling him closer, he feels sturdy and reliable.

“It’s going to be okay, I have you,” he mumbles into the top of your head and you believe him.

He holds you until you pull away from him first, once you’re no longer worried about crying, you sit back properly and wipe at your eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for… I know this is hard for you,” his expression is sympathetic to you.

“I just… wish he had explained his reasoning more, maybe then it wouldn’t feel so out of the blue,” you sigh out before flopping back on the mattress, tired from the events of today. Your forearm covers your eyes as you lay down.

Kuai hums out to you in mindless agreement but doesn’t say anything further, his lack of a real response confuses you and when you uncover your eyes, you see he’s already looking at you. His eyes move up your stretched out body, silently watching you.

“Kuai Liang,” you call out to him, louder than your last sentence.

The shock of your voice contrasted against the quiet room has his eyes flicking back to yours, “What did you say?”

Something occurs to you and you sit up beside him again, he’s surprised by your sudden movements, eyes widening slightly. You turn to him completely, one of your legs crossed on the mattress.

“Kuai…” you hesitate to ask him your question but he hums at you to continue, “Am I… are we going…” he raises a brow at you, confused as to what you’re trying to ask him, “Do we have to kiss? For the ceremony?” You finally manage to get out.

He stifles a chuckle at your question, “Not if you don’t want to, it’s not necessary… you know that.”

Your mouth pulls to the side, considering things for a moment. He is right, it isn’t necessary but now you’re a little concerned about your future and what it means to be married to Kuai, “I haven’t… I’ve not been kissed.”

“Ever?” He seems taken aback by your confession.

You huff out, “I didn’t tell you to get made fun of, Kuai,” You told him because you’re worried about later, you’ve not had a lot of firsts and if you marry him, you want to respect that, you won’t be looking at others while married to him. You’re just, you’re in a predicament right now.

Before you can convey your concerns in a sensical manner though, he asks, “Do you want me to kiss you?”

You’re shocked by his offer, and also tempted. You suppose you aren’t really going to have many opportunities at intimacy after the marriage, not unless you ask Kuai, the thought has your face burning up.

You feel shy, “Do you mind?”

“Not in the slightest,” he assures you, “Though, if you want me to kiss you, you’ll have to ask for it.”

His words and demeanour set you on edge, his eyes are watching you very closely. Watching how you fidget, “Would you kiss me?” You feel embarrassed and very hot in the face but you add, “Please?”

His expression turns smug and it makes your heart skip a beat, “Since you asked so nicely,” he turns to face you properly and reaches forward, one of his hands grasps your face, the other resting on your knee.

He leans in but you hesitate and he holds still, “I don’t know what I am doing.”

“That’s fine,” His breath fans across your lips, “I will show you.”

Is he trying to kill you? He might kill you, his words and his proximity to you, it’s setting your skin on fire, “Okay.”

“Good,” he murmurs, before leaning in again. You don’t move away this time and he presses his lips to yours.

He’s warm and his lips are soft, you mimic what he’s doing. The kiss is light and tender, he seems to be feeling you out, getting a sense for you. Your hands reach out to him, of their own provocation and wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. He hums against you, his own hand on your knee is gripping your skin tighter.

He tilts your head to the side, the hand on your knee wanders higher, landing on your thigh and squeezing there. The grip he has further up your thigh makes you gasp and he licks into your mouth, the feeling new and overwhelming. He’s overpowering all of your senses and an involuntary whimper is pulled from your chest at the way he’s kissing you.

He grunts back at you, his thumb pushes into the hinge of your jaw, forcing your mouth open more. Giving himself more access to you, he’s taking your breath away, kissing you dizzy. You want to rub your thighs together for friction but with the way you’re sitting, it’s not possible. His palm against your leg is hot and it keeps moving further up, now grasping the fattest part of your thigh.

A moan slips past your lips to his and you pull him closer to you, he groans into your mouth. The kiss is hot and needy now, borderline messy. He pulls back momentarily, only to push your back into the mattress. His form follows right after, holding himself over the top of you. His lips are on yours before you can form a coherent thought, his tongue in your mouth again.

His hand grips at your thigh, pulling it upwards and resting it against his hip, not moving more than that. You reach up and tug at his shirt, pulling him onto you, your leg crooks around his side and pulls his hips to yours. The contact has a whiney gasp pulled from you and Kuai fights every urge in his bones to grind down into you.

Your arms loop around his neck again and you get lost in his kiss, in the closeness of his body. He groans deeply against you, as if he’s in pain. The sound shocks you and you pull back from him, your foreheads resting against each other as you huff shallow breaths.

“Are you okay?” You’re worried you did something wrong, or that you’ve hurt him somehow.

He shakes his head against yours, “Mm fine, you didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice is strained.

You sit for a second longer before you realise what had happened and it sets your face alight, “I’m sorry,” you rush out.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” He repeats, voice still strained, laced with lust.

You had grinded up into him absentmindedly, your mind dazed and looking for friction, resulting in you rutting up into him without thinking. His cock is firm and heavy against you, pulsing with need.

You go to apologise again but he puts his mouth on yours, silencing what you were going to say with a deep kiss. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead on yours again, “You did nothing wrong.” He reiterates.

Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest, you have nothing to compare it to but you have a feeling that kisses like that are hard to come by. “You’re a really good kisser.”

He looks down at you, amused by your comment, “How would you know?”

“Should I find someone else to kiss? To compare it to?” You tease him.

His gaze is firm, “No, you’re going to be my wife, the only person you will be kissing in the future… will be me.”

The words are possessive, and you think if you weren’t so delirious from his lips on yours, you would argue back against him but at the moment, you think you’re okay with never kissing anyone else, “Okay.”

He smirks at you, enjoying the look in your eyes. They’re wet and needy and he’s getting a lot of pleasure from seeing you like this, for him.

His lips are shiny from the kiss you shared and you can’t look away, wanting so badly for him to put his mouth back on yours, “Can you kiss me again?”

He doesn’t move and only looks at you, “I can.”

A few beats pass by in the quiet room, the only sound you’re able to recognise is the rapid beating of your own heart pumping blood through your head. He still doesn’t move, just watches you, you can’t tell if he’s having an internal conflict or if he’s teasing you. It’s starting to frustrate you though, and to ‘punish’ him for his inaction, the leg you have around his waist pulls him into you harder. Grinding him down into you, the feeling has you gasping, your breath stuttering in your chest.

Kuai groans at you but he also frowns, his hips dig into yours harder and pins your lower half to the bed. He gives you dark look, “Don’t.”

You don’t reply to him, your chest moving quickly with your huffed breaths. He watches you and the way you’re breathless for him, the look on your face and the warmth of your pussy through all the layers has him salivating. He is barely hanging on by a thread, his sanity shredding the longer he has his cock pressed tight against you.

His forehead drops to rest on top of yours, his lips ghosting your own, you move to press your mouth to his. A light kiss, it’s only a peck, it’s all he gives you but you want so much more, you’re hooked on his mouth, drunk on his kisses.

You almost beg him, “Kuai, please–”

He cuts you off with his mouth on yours, his lips urgent and needy, the kiss hot and heavy. Your brain buzzes, lost in the way he licks into your mouth, at the way one of his hands grab the plush skin of your thigh, his other lightly gripping your neck; holding you steady for him. He’s kissing you how he wants too, deeply and fully, taking over all your thoughts, filling your brain with only thoughts of him.

You can’t help the way you throb with need for him, your leg gripping him tighter, wanting him so much closer even though he is as close as he’s going to get. He hums into the kiss at the way you’ve started to grind into him again, your own noises shared in the kiss, small whimpers and quiet whines that he swallows down. Greedy for the small noises you’re making for him.

When he parts from you, you’re both breathless again, your shallow breaths intermingling together with your proximity. Kuai is giving off a thick heat, his skin warm to the touch, his head ducks into your neck and licks you. Ending with a small nip to your skin, he rests his head in the crook of your neck, breathing you in and attempting to catch his breath.

With the way you move under him and the way your leg grips him tight to hold his lower half close, he is going to fall apart on top of you, his head full of depraved thoughts. Wanting so badly to fuck you into the mattress but holding himself back.

“Kuai,” you call to him again.

He groans into your neck, “Shh– just, I need a second.”

You’re confused by what he means, a moment for what? All you want to tell him is how badly you need him right now. “I want you,” your voice is small, as if being quieter will negate the fact that you didn’t give him the moment of silence he asked for.

His hips buck into yours involuntarily, “Fuck–”

A gasp is pulled from you at the friction, Kuai pulls his head from your neck suddenly, pulling back to look at you. His eyes are intense and you turn your head to the side so you feel less exposed to him but his hand grabs the side of your face and pulls it back so you’re looking at him again. He doesn’t move or speak; he’s just enjoying the expression on your face again.

His hips grind down into you and a small moan exits you, you’re unable to supress the sound even if you tried. Kuai’s thumb is on your chin, pulling slightly to ensure any noise you might make comes out.

He slowly grinds into you, the noises you’d rather he not hear slipping from you. You’re burning with need for him, pussy throbbing for more. His brows are pinched together, his breathing huffed, biting his lip to keep the noises that threaten to spill from him suppressed.

Your vision is blurry, tears in your waterline from how badly you want him to do more to you, your eyes pleading with him to just give you more. His hand moves from your chin and his mouth is on yours again, kissing you intensely, his mouth is hot. Everything about him is hot, his temperature so high he’s heating you up.

He rips his mouth from yours and pulls himself up completely, his hands removed from your body and resting himself up on his knees. You’re bewildered by the loss of him and whine, his eyes are on fire as he looks at you below him. Hands clenching into fists beside him, itching to touch you again, to touch your naked skin, to touch every inch of your body.

He’s taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself, “I think we should stop.”

“Why?” Your brows are drawn up at him.

He sighs, “You asked for a kiss and I delivered, we should leave it at that.”

You start pulling yourself off the mattress, weight held up on your elbows, “And if I want to ask for more?”

His eyes hold a warning for you, “Do not.”

You go to argue against him but there are loud footsteps walking to your room, ones you are all too familiar with. Your father is making his way to your room, you look to Kuai with wide eyes and he moves off the bed swiftly, adjusting himself in his pants and smoothing himself out. He’s trying to make it look like he wasn’t just dry humping you, while kissing you stupid.

Moving off the bed, you get to your feet in front of him, he smooths out your hair and clothes for you, his hand holds the side of your face for a moment and his thumb runs over your bottom lip softly. He’s caressing you gently, lost in you for a moment before your fathers loud knocks are suddenly heard on your bedroom door.

Kuai pulls away from you, coming back to himself at the sound of your fathers fist pounding on the wood. Walking around Kuai, you head to the door and open it slightly, enough to see your father but not enough for him to see Kuai further in the room, behind you.

Looking up to your father, you ask, “Yes?”

“I am looking for Kuai Liang, is he still with you?” Your fathers eyes try scanning behind you but there is nothing to see.

“No, he left a bit ago, maybe he is in the bathroom?” You offer as an alternative, trying to get him to leave and go the other way, away from your room.

He hums at you, considering you for a moment, “You know I love you right?”

“I– it doesn’t feel like it right now,” you tell him honestly, your trust in him completely shattered after today.

He looks tired, just so exhausted and like he might apologise, before his facial expression returns to its usual firm manner, “If you see Kuai Liang, let him know, I wish to speak with him.”

“Will do,” you agree hastily, hoping to end this interaction quickly.

He eyes you carefully and then eventually walks away; he seems to have so much to say but doesn’t know how to say it. It isn’t your job to force him to talk, though you might have to if you ever want to know his motivations behind all this. Whatever, it can wait until you aren’t a mess from Kuai.

Shutting the door, you turn around to see Kuai already moving for it to leave and find your father, “You’re going already?”

He pauses and turns to you, “Why?” And then leaning in close, he asks, “Would you like me to stay?” His tone is smug, expression cool and self-pleased.

You look away from him, “If I said yes?”

He sighs, hands coming up to rest on either side of your face, forehead leaning to yours, “I would like to stay.” He takes a moment, “But… I should talk with your father.” He pulls his head away from yours, still holding you in his hands.

Your face scowls at the mention of your father and Kuai’s thumb presses between your brows, massaging to release the tension. You relax your face but are still ultimately pouting at the prospect of him leaving.

He looks at you with a raised brow and you concede to him, “Alright, but try and ask him why it’s suddenly become so important I marry someone.”

“Yes ma’am,” he jokes, eyes lingering on you for a moment.

You aren’t sure why he’s looking at you so seriously but you understand when he leans in and kisses you so very gently, it’s short and only a little more than a peck but it makes your heart swell at how careful he is with you.

He hums when pulling back, “I don’t know if you have been told, but you’re expected to come back with me tomorrow.”

You’re taken aback, “I thought I had one more week?”

“I had asked for it but he changed his mind, earlier today.” He pulls back from you, giving you room to process.

You sigh deeply, feeling empty at this point, “Today has been too much, I’m not sure how to react at this point.”

“I’ll make you as comfortable as I possibly can, I want you to be happy there,” his tone is concerned, genuinely wanting you to be happy with him and with the Shirai Ryu.

You snark out, mostly joking, “I want to have, free will.”

“I will give you as much as I can manage,” he promises.

You tease, leaning towards him, “But kissing others–”

“–Is not on the table.” His tone is stern, expression unamused.

You smile at him sweetly, “I was joking, I will respect our marriage fully and completely”

“Fully and completely? And what exactly does that entail?” His expression is suggestive as he looks at you, subtly moving closer.

You feel nervous but can’t stop yourself from saying, “And if I said anything you wanted?”

“Then I would say, I’d like to test that,” His eyes are dark and lids low as he looks at you, not moving to touch you again but so obviously wanting to.

Your face grows warm under his stare, his voice has a lilt to it that sends shivers down your spine, “Didn’t you have to leave?”

He chuckles lowly at you before grabbing your hand and holding it firmly, “I want you to know… that I will be with you every step of the way and that you can talk to me… about anything.” He squeezes your hand once, in confirmation.

You squeeze his hand back and smile at him kindly, “Thank you… and you know… if you ever have anything you need to talk about, I am here to listen.”

Kuai takes several moments to look at you, and then decides he’s been holding off on leaving you for too long, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

You don’t really know what to say, you want him to stay longer but know he probably shouldn’t, “Yes, we will talk tomorrow, hopefully you will have more answers for me,” you jest, smiling up to him.

“Hopefully,” he squeezes your hand once more, assuring you that he will try to get more information. He leaves after that, going to catch up with your father.

And now, you’re left alone and wanting Kuai. You miss the weight of his body on top of yours, you’re also feeling confused about your feelings for him. He makes you feel warm and the way he kissed you has you wanting to obey his every will. But you are also confused about his feelings for you, his eyes seem so honest but he had said he had feelings for someone else just earlier today and now you aren’t sure what to make of that.

Maybe, you just need to sleep and move on from today, but currently, you are feeling better towards this marriage. Having spent some time with Kuai and spoken with him more casually, you feel better about things. Knowing he had good intentions behind his actions puts you at ease, clearly, since you just about let him hump you into submission.

It’s a little embarrassing that you were about to beg him to fuck you when you hadn’t ever been kissed before, let alone had sex but he has an effect on you that you’ve never experienced and even though you’ve known him for a while now, he’s never been this forward with you. Feeling desire for someone you consider a friend is weird right? You aren’t sure, you’ve never really desired anyone before, not like this.

There is too much swirling around your head. Ranging from, Kuai and his soft lips, his firm hands, his warm skin, his hips grinding into you, along with thoughts of his grip on your thigh, his eyes as he looked at you, his restrained manner of handling you. All your thoughts are currently of him… you need to sleep this off, before your thoughts become more depraved and you hunt him down and ask him so nicely to take you, right now.

Yeah, it’s probably a good idea to turn in for the night.

₊ ⊹

You spend said night tossing and turning in your bed, waking up every few hours just to roll over and be upset that you’ve woken up before an appropriate time, again. When you finally do fall asleep at some ungodly hour in the morning, you’re startled awake what feels like only a few moments later by knocking on your door. You groan out at whoever is there, not ready to get up, not when you had finally fallen asleep.

They don’t knock again, instead just letting themselves into your room, you peak a look and can see it’s your mother. Groaning at her again, you roll over, shuffling further into your sheets; you are not ready to start the day.

“Come on, it’s time to get up,” her tone is soft, trying to coax you out of bed with kindness.

Another groan, “I don’t want to get up, I am tired.”

She sits on the side of your bed and places a hand soothingly on your back, “You… you’re leaving today.”

“I know, Kuai told me last night,” you grumble at her, mood worsening at remembering the sudden change in plans.

Her hand rubs circles into your back, “I couldn’t change your fathers mind, I am sorry.”

It occurs to you, that your mother probably knows what has changed with your father to incur this sudden behavioural change. You shoot up in your bed and face her, “Why is he doing this?”

She hesitates, eyes sad, “He just wants the best for you.”

Your gaze scrutinises her, “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“I am telling you everything you need to know,” she replies, smiling at you sombrely before her face changes to a more enthusiastic expression, “Now, come on! time to gather your stuff.”

You flop back onto the mattress at her words, grumbling to yourself, you had forgotten that part of leaving would include… packing.

“It isn’t so bad, take your important belongings and some clothes, your father and I can bring over the rest after the marriage.” She pats your shoulder a couple times and moves around your room, looking for bags to put your stuff in.

Moving to watch her, you realise she’s trying very hard to make this easy on the both of you. Attempting to keep her expression easy and tone joyful but you can tell she is sad you are leaving home, especially so soon.

Sighing, you get up to help her, the least you can do is give her the same courtesy. You decide to offer her some words of comfort, “I will be okay you know? I like Kuai Liang, he is kind and I know some of the people in the Shirai Ryu already. I will adjust.”

She pauses what she’s doing and looks to you, “I know dear, I raised you well,” she flexes her arm at you jokingly, “Be strong and keep your head up. I know you will continue to fill me with pride,” She moves closer to you and places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing once, “You always have.”

Her words have you fighting back tears, you don’t want her to see you cry, you replace the look on your face with a strained smile, “I will do my best.”

“That’s all you ever need to do,” She pulls you into her for a hug, holding you in her embrace for a moment. You aren’t sure which one of you needs this more.

When she pulls back, she claps her hands together once and rubs them, “Alright, let’s get stuck into this.”

Rolling your eyes and supressing a smile you ask, “Where should I start, boss?”

She chuckles at you brightly and directs you on where to begin. It doesn’t take all that long to collect your most important stuff and pack it away. Anything left behind today will be picked up at a later date and even though you’ve not packed everything away, your room looks significantly more bare compared to before.

Your mother stops and looks around, “Well, I think that is about everything you will need for now.”

“Yeah I think this is good,” you smile at her.

She heads for your door, “You still have a bit of time before you have to leave, maybe have a nap, you look very tired.”

Shooting her a light-hearted glare you say, “Wow, I wonder why.”

She just smiles cheekily at you before leaving your room, presumedly going to tend to her plants, the garden may be wilting but she has a greenhouse with copious amounts of flourishing plants and flowers. The winter doesn’t stop her green thumb and it never has.

You listen to her advice though and the first thing you do when alone is get back into bed, not even making it the whole way up, just sort of flopping onto it and staying there. You’ve made yourself comfortable now, there is no way you’re getting up, not unless there’s a fire or something.

A few moments of peace is all you get before there is another knock on your door, “Are you awake?” Speaking of fire, Kuai has come to see you.

You huff face down into the mattress and mumble out, “You can come in.”

“What? I can’t hear you,” his tone is amused.

Grunting you hold your head up so your mouth isn’t pressed into the sheets, “I said, you can come in.” Your tone is exasperated as your head collapses back onto the bed.

The door opens and closes behind you and Kuai stifles a laugh at your body slumped on your mattress, not even bothering to make it to the pillows further up.

“Are you okay?” He asks tentatively, a little worried you’re going to snap at him.

Your words are mumbled again, “Mm fine.”

Kuai moves beside you and flops down too, laying on his back, “I spoke with your father last night,” that catches your attention and your head turns to the side to look at him, “Don’t get excited, he didn’t tell me anything new, just that it was important to him and that it is what’s best for you.”

You scowl at him, unimpressed with your fathers answer, “He’s starting to get on my nerves.”

“Starting?” Kuai asks playfully.

Your scowl deepens, “Whatever, leave me alone. I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“I wonder why that is,” he says smugly, knowing it has something to do with him.

Turning back to the mattress, you hide your face from him, looking at him for too long is becoming your weakness. You can’t help it, he’s the one who looks so kissable, you might need therapy or something, these cannot be normal thoughts to have for a friend. Though, making out with a friend is also not normal? But then again, he is also your soon to be husband, this is all so frustrating.

Suddenly, you remember what you remembered last night, he’s in love with someone else but is marrying you out of kindness. He’s preventing you from marrying a stranger because of his concern for you but now you’re concerned about his happiness. But if he doesn’t like you, why did he kiss you like that? Was he just… in the mood or was he in the mood for you? GODS! men.

You must be grumbling to yourself out loud without realising because Kuai laughs beside you, amused at your internal conflict, “What are you worried about now?”

Sitting up, you tell him, “You actually,” he raises a brow at you, as if to say ‘oh?’, “You said you love someone–”

“–I never said I love someone, you did,” he interjects, also moving to sit up and face you.

You retort back, “But you implied it,” he keeps his mouth shut this time, knowing you’re right, “I am just confused? Worried? I mean… we kissed last night–”

“–I think it was a bit more than a kiss,” he interrupts again.

You look at him and don’t hesitate to say, “…Right, well that kind of adds to my point then doesn’t it?”

“And what is your point?” He’s pushing you to say what you mean.

“If you stopped interrupting me I could get there,” your eyebrow raises at him in admonishment, “I am just… I guess I’m just confused about what you’re feeling… because you love someone else… but then you…” you look away from him, “…You kissed me like that last night and I don’t know how to feel… I don’t know how you feel.” Embarrassment is seeping into every fibre of your being, feeling really exposed at being honest with him.

He intakes a deep breath, “I kissed you like that because I wanted to.”

Turning your head back, you shoot him a pointed look, telling him that what he’s offered is not enough, “Kuai–”

He stops you before you get even more annoyed at him, “–I love you.”

You’re shocked and have no idea how to react to that, “I–”

“–I kissed you like that because I love you and have for a while now,” he’s looking right at you, unashamed by his feelings, “I am not expecting you to feel the same, I am only telling you so you worry less, so you don’t think I am the type of man who kisses someone like that for no reason.” His words are filled with emotion but also stated as fact, he’s informing you of his feelings, not asking anything of you in return.

You heart stutters in your chest and you look like a deer caught in headlights, he doesn’t need you to feel the same but his sudden confession has put the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You calm your nerves to tell him how you feel, “I am not sure how I feel towards you–”

Kuai doesn’t let you finish your sentence, “–I told you; I do not need you to–”

“¬–Could you stop interrupting me?” You look at him exasperatedly, getting tired of not finishing your thoughts, “I am not sure how I feel towards you but I know that I like you… more than a friend, and I wouldn’t have let you kiss me like that if I didn’t.” Your gaze averts his, looking anywhere but his eyes.

He’s smiling to himself, “You like me?”

“I mean… obviously…” you pout slightly.

He hums at you and moves closer, pulling you to his chest by the back of your head, he holds you against him, “I can work with that.”

If he touched your face he would be able to feel the way you’re burning up, his confession and your own making you nervous and embarrassed. This is certainly not how you thought the past couple days would have unfolded but as Kuai holds you to him, you can’t help but feel okay right now.

You snuggle into him slightly, your arms wrapping around his torso to properly be held by him, “I am still feeling uncertain about the future… but right now, I think I am good,” your words are mumbled into the fabric of his shirt.

His chest rumbles under you, humming, “Whatever you are still worried about, I will be with you… every step of the way.”

Pulling your head back, you rest your chin on his chest and ask, “Promise?”

He looks down to you and without hesitation says, “Promise.”

His actions make more sense to you now and that fills you with relief, even if it also frightens you somewhat. Right now, is okay though, being held by him and being assured he’ll be with you, it makes everything okay… just for now, in this quiet moment between the two of you, everything is okay.

Raising yourself up, you push your face into his neck, feeling the urge to be closer to him, your arms also wrap around his neck. He pulls you to him by your middle, holding you firmly. You nuzzle into him, he’s warm and smells really good, he’s making you dizzy.

“You are really warm,” you breath out, words spoken into his skin. It almost feels like his temperature rises as you tell him.

His grip on you tightens momentarily, “You are torturing me.”

You don’t move from him, too comfortable and cosy to pull back, “How?”

Your breath tickles the sensitive skin on his neck and a suppressed shiver runs down his spine, a noise getting caught in his chest, he doesn’t reply to you though; choosing to ignore your question instead.

The sudden urge to cuddle further into his neck hits you but you don’t want to push his boundaries, so you start to pull away from him, mumbling out, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s not what I meant,” his hands move to hold your face, stilling you so you don’t pull away from him anymore.

Your heart feels like it might beat right out of your chest, Kuai is looking you over, eyes examining your face, flitting over your lips carefully. You want him to kiss you, especially since all your thoughts have been consumed by the memory of him kissing you, how overwhelming it was, how good it felt.

His thumb strokes high over your cheek bone, hands gentle with you and so warm, adding to the heat already resting under your skin. The look in his eyes is the same as last night, the way he looked at you just before your father knocked on your door, a little lost in you. He moves towards you and you prepare yourself for his lips on yours but he moves his head to your neck, nuzzling into your skin.

You feel a little let down at the lack of his lips on yours until you gasp at the way he has latched onto your neck, not sucking hard enough to leave a mark but enough to have you reacting viscerally to him – not that it seems all that difficult for him to pull reactions from you anyways.

He moves to another patch of skin, leaving open mouthed, wet kisses on your neck, nipping every now and again just to hear the small sounds you let out and the way you twitch against him. Your hands grab at his back for leverage and your head tilts to the side giving him more access. One of his hands grips at your flesh, fingers digging into your thigh and massaging, his other hand on your back, keeping you in place for him.

A sigh passes your lips at the way his tongue licks up the length of your neck, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling. He hums in satisfaction to himself at your involuntary reactions, enjoying every second of playing with you.

He pulls your shirt to the side to reveal your shoulder, his mouth kisses along it, giving the same treatment he gave your neck. Though, his nips last a bit longer, not afraid to leave marks where he knows no one will see, his teeth graze your skin and it has a small whimper leaving you. His chest rumbles with a groan, not quite reaching the air but vibrating through him all the same.

Your quiet whimpers turn into a surprised moan when he bites your shoulder, his teeth digging in momentarily before he retreats, resting his forehead on your shoulder, “I’m sorry, I got carried away.” His voice is strained, his mind clouded with the sounds you make, the feel of your soft skin, he’s realising slowly that maybe he should stop putting himself in these situations with you. Clearly, he does not possess much self-restraint when it comes to you, especially not when you are so willing.

“Don’t apologise, I don’t mind,” your voice is shaky, both from him and from your nervousness at admitting you liked it, you liked the way he’s marked you. The dull pain of his teeth biting your sensitive skin set you alight, your pussy throbbing for him.

He groans properly this time, his skin growing hotter against you, his hand on your thigh gripping for dear life. “Don’t tell me that, not right now,” his voice is still tense, fighting every urge he has to fuck your cunt with his tongue. Fighting the urge to taste every inch of your body.

You mumble out to him, “I like the way you touch me.”

“That did the opposite of help,” he grunts out, his forehead still resting on your shoulder, too afraid to move because he knows the look on your face will make him dizzy. His thoughts only filled with depraved images of you, of all the things he’d like to do to you and seeing the wet, needy look in your eyes… will break him.

You sit quietly and let him rest up against you, his breathing evening out slowly but surely. He seems to be trying very hard to be respectful but if you’re being honest with yourself, what you want him to do to you is anything but.

Taking pity on him, you decide not to push and instead offer him a way out, “Kuai, I think we have to leave soon.” It’s not a lie, you are both due back at the Shirai Ryu.

“I know,” he says, pulling his head away from you, he shuffles back a bit too, putting some distance between the two of you, “Again, I am sorry.”

“And again, I don’t need your apology, I said I liked it and I meant it,” you’re doing your best to be confident in yourself, “Now, let’s get going or we’ll be late,” you cement, moving off the bed and to your bedroom door.

He watches you walk across the room, a bit stunned by you, turning back you look at him and raise a brow, “Are you coming?”

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he replies, still sitting, you shrug it off and walk out the door.

You feel light-headed, the sensation of his lips and teeth still linger on your skin, you really would’ve liked to have spent a few more moments alone to see what he would do to you. He looked equal parts fucked and hungry and the thought of him taking you how he pleases sends a thrill through your bloodstream. It’s really too bad but you suppose you will have new opportunities to be intimate with him now that you will be living with him.

Kuai catches up to you eventually and you spend the little time you have left with your parents, going over last-minute things about the wedding and saying your goodbyes. You hold your mother for a long time and when it comes to your father, you would really rather not interact with him but you won’t be seeing him for a few weeks so you hug him anyways, as much as you are angry with him, you will miss him. Though, you don’t hug him nearly as long as your mother and there is an air of contempt surrounding you, directed at him.

Before you leave, you take one last walk around your house and the gardens, knowing you won’t be back for quite a bit. It’s not forever, you will visit but you’d like to commit as much of it to memory now, before you leave. Kuai joins you on your walk, keeping you company, he’s nice to walk next to, his body radiates warmth just to your left.

“You will be handy to have in the winter, I don’t handle the cold all that well,” you hum out to him.

He smiles to himself, “I will keep you warm.”

“I will hold you to that.”

When it is finally time to leave, your parents see you off and then you’re gone from your childhood home, starting a new chapter with your future husband. It’s bittersweet, mostly because while you are excited to embark upon and explore this new relationship with Kuai, you are also still feeling upset at your situation, at the choice that was ripped from you. But like your mother said, all you have to do – is your best, that is more than enough.

₊ ⊹

Being back at the Shirai Ryu is… overwhelming or maybe nerve wracking, mostly because you won’t be leaving, this is going to be your home now… Oh gods, this is going to be your home now. Your heart feels like it’s seizing in your chest and you grab for Kuai standing next to you, hand bunching into the side of his shirt.

He notices and leans down to you, “Are you okay?”

You look up to him, your eyes round, you’re panicking and you don’t know how to stop. You can’t find the words to express that, though. The only response you’re capable of is scared eyes and a shake of your head, this is all starting to feel so real.

“I have you, I’m right here,” Kuai pulls you to him, engulfing your frame in a hug, his arms holding you securely, “Everything is okay.”

The pressure of being held is helping to calm you but you’re still feeling frightened, “Okay, w–we should go…we have things to take care of,” you can’t help the slight shake in your voice.

“It can wait,” his chest vibrates under your ear as he speaks, “I’m going to keep holding you until you are ready.”

You focus on your breathing and trying to slow it, attempting to take deep breaths. With your head pressed to Kuai’s chest, you can hear his heartbeat, it is steady and calm, his breaths are deep and even and you find yourself matching them. His calmness helps to steady you, he’s such a sturdy person, you’re glad he is here.

Eventually, you come back to yourself but you don’t want to pull away from him just yet. Moving your face, you press your forehead into his chest, “Thank you,” you mumble against him.

One of his hands moves to your head and strokes the back of it, “Do you feel better?”

“Marginally,” you breathe him in, he smells nice.

He pauses in thought for a moment before enquiring, “Have you ever panicked like that before?”

You sigh against him, “Not for a very long time.”

Panic attacks are not something you are a stranger to, your memories of them very unpleasant but you had worked hard on yourself to get to where you are now. You’ve not had a panic attack this bad in a long time, not since you were younger.

“If you find yourself panicking again… look for me,” his hand tilts your head up, so your chin rests on his chest, “I will drop everything to help.”

You nod at him, confirming that you will find him, if need be.

Before you pull back, you lean up as far as you can and press a soft kiss to his cheek. When you step away and look at him, you think you see a small pink tint flushing his skin. You don’t get to look at him long though, he grabs your hand and walks you through the village properly, taking you to his home.

You’re familiar with his house, you like it, it’s homey and light, it very clearly displays that a man lives in it but it’s still nice. Kuai is a tidy person for the most part, only forgetting cups in some of the rooms he walks into, he has a bad habit of making a drink, taking it with him somewhere, placing it in that room and then walking out of said room without the drink. It’s endearing and not all that bad since he usually remembers at some point and cleans up after himself.

He leads you down the hall to his spare room, “You can stay in this room.”

Nudging his side, you say, “You don’t want to sleep next to me?” You’re joking, mostly.

“You are welcome in my bed anytime you want, dear,” he’s leaned closer to you, his voice low as he says it, suggestive in nature. Before you have time to be embarrassed and stutter out an answer, he moves back and pats the top of your head, “If you do want to sleep next to me, you are more than welcome, I promise to keep my hands to myself.” His tone has an air of humour to it.

“Thank you,” you mutter out, stepping into the room to place some of your stuff down.

Kuai also follows in, putting the rest of your bags on the floor in the corner of the room, “I know it isn’t much but I hope you will be comfortable.”

“It’s perfect, Kuai, thank you,” you’re being earnest, the room is perfect, it has everything you’ll need and that’s more than enough.

Something on the nightstand catches your attention, “Did you get that for me?”

He comes up beside you, “I did, is it okay?”

The big smile that breaks out across your face can’t be helped, “It’s more than okay, thank you,” you lean your head onto his arm, your fingers looping in between his.

He has gotten you a plant, a small but beautiful one, it sits in an ornate pot on the nightstand, right by a window. The plant is green and leafy, some kind of trailing ivy, your mother would know the genus, species, order, family, etcetera. She really is a plant genius and in a small way it has rubbed off on you, in the way that you love plants, you’re not nearly as scientific about it all.

Kuai thinking to get you a plant… it fills you with joy, he’s continuously showing you how much he cares for you and every time he does, it gives you pause, your own feelings for him buzzing under your skin. It’s only now that you recognise and understand, that these feelings are not how you are meant to feel for a friend, you hadn’t considered liking Kuai like that until you had wanted to kiss him.

Being able to recognise them doesn’t make it easier though, if anything it makes it harder, having all these feelings for him and not really understanding how to express them. It certainly doesn’t help that your situation is not exactly… orthodox.

Looking to him, you can’t help the mass amounts of affection you are feeling for him right now, “Kuai, I really do mean it… thank you.”

“It’s just a plant,” his eyebrows scrunch at you, equal parts amused and confused by your heartfelt sentiment.

Your answer is simple, “I know.”

Kuai squeezes your hand before leaving the room, giving you the chance to settle in for a moment. You unpack a couple things and put your clothes into the dresser, you don’t really want to unpack though and so, instead, you end up flopping onto the bed and star-fishing out across the mattress. It’s a nice mattress, not too shabby, nothing to write home about but it’ll get you a good night’s rest.

A little less than half an hour passes by and Kuai comes back to check on you, only to see you sprawled out on the bed, “Done unpacking, already?”

Looking to him, you complain, “It’s boring and I don’t want to do it.”

He raises a brow to you, “How much did you do?”

“Most of my clothes and a couple other things,” shrugging, you add, “What can I say? I packed light.”

He wordlessly looks down to your other bag sitting in the corner, completely untouched.

You shake a hand at him dismissively, “I’ll unpack as I use things.”

“I foresee that annoying you,” he comments.

Scowling, you bite back, “Guess what’s annoying me right now.”

He fights back a laugh and instead asks, “In that case, are you ready to see the others?”

“Come help me up,” you beckon him over with a limp hand.

He lightly rolls his eyes at you but moves to help you up all the same, one of his hands grabbing yours and pulling you to your feet.

“Why, thank you very much,” you joke, patting his shoulder as you leave the room, you can hear the exasperated sigh he lets out from down the hall and it makes you stifle a laugh.

₊ ⊹

You’re meeting Harumi, Tomas and Raiden in a small garden area, it’s not fairing any better than your mothers, everything either dead or dull. It’s cold and you really would rather be inside, you pull your sleeves down over your hands, your fingers needing the small reprieve from the cold.

When you see Tomas he immediately pulls you in for a hug, happy to see you for the first time in a while, “It has been too long, how have you been?”

“I’ve been better,” you chuckle against him.

The hug lingers for a bit and Kuai clears his throat lightly from behind you, Tomas pulls away quickly at the sound. His hand lands on your head and pats you, “It will be nice having you here,” his smile is kind.

You appreciate his compassion, “Thank you, Tomas.”

Raiden moves in for a hug next, holding you and telling you lowly, so only you hear, “If you need anything, we are here for you.”

Pulling away you give him a look to convey gratefulness but don’t say anything verbally. Kuai moves to stand closer to you, his side brushing yours at how close he chose to stand. You appreciate it, the warmth is already radiating off him and you shuffle the tiniest bit closer to him, seeking more of his warmth.

Before you have a chance to make a note of Harumi’s absence, you hear her voice calling to you all, “I am here! Sorry, I got held up.” She moves in to hug you quickly, “It’s good to see you.”

You smile politely at her, feeling uncomfortable, from the cold and also from her, Kuai may not love her but you don’t know how she feels, “It’s good to see you, too,” you echo her sentiments.

Everyone starts chatting to one another, talking about their days and such, you really would like to listen but the cold is creeping into your veins and you feel like you might start shaking soon. Kuai must notice because he leans down to you, “Cold?”

“Very,” you press out, tone strained from the chill in your bones.

Kuai’s hands grab either side of your arms and rub up and down, trying to help warm you, “I think we should head inside,” he announces, “Tomas, is your house clean?”

Tomas looks up and away to think on it for a second before Raiden intervenes, “I cleaned earlier.”

Tomas turns to Raiden to thank him, but you don’t hear the rest of their conversation, Kuai has already begun walking the pair of you in the direction of their house, wanting to get you inside as soon as possible.

“You should wear more layers,” he notes.

“Maybe I wasn’t expecting to stand out in the open,” you huff out in reply.

You make it to Tomas’ house but the others haven’t caught up to you yet, so now you’re just cold in a different area. You move from foot to foot, trying to keep moving, hoping the movement will warm you up. Kuai watches on, amused by your fidgeting.

“This is your fault,” you grumble, “Fix it.”

He looks at you with a supressed smile on his lips and a puzzled look on his face, “And how am I meant to do that?”

“I don’t know! Warm me up… give me a hug or something,” you’re being a bit dramatic but you’re really cold.

He breathes out a small laugh but does hug you, his arms wrapping around you fully, holding you close to him. He’s so warm, in his arms is so much nicer than in the cold. You nuzzle into his chest, humming in contentment, “You’re so warm, so nice,” you mutter out against him.

A hand moves from your back to the side of your face, his palm warming your cheek, “Your face is very cold, you weren’t lying about not handling the cold well.”

“I would not lie about something like that,” his palm is large against your face, you close your eyes and lean into it, savouring his heat.

You don’t see him move but you feel his lips against yours, the warmth and sudden contact makes you gasp in slight shock. His lips aren’t being demanding, he’s being tame right now. The kiss is still enough to make you dizzy though, warm and full, you think maybe he just makes you feel like that. You kiss him back earnestly, your hands tugging at his chest.

As much as you want it, he doesn’t kiss you any deeper, not willing to risk being seen by the others in such a state. He also wants to kiss you more; he wants to see the look on your face after he kisses you stupid, he just doesn’t want the others seeing it too.

When he pulls back, he says, “Your lips also looked cold.”

“Dumb,” you retort, pressing your forehead to his chest again.

You can feel his quiet laughter move through him, “Did it help?”

“…Maybe.”

You don’t wait much longer for the others, you half expected Kuai to remove you from him when they got within eyeshot of you both but he doesn’t, he lets them see how he’s holding you, how you’ve latched onto him.

Tomas asks, “Are you okay?”

“Mm fine, jus cold, lemme inside,” you grumble out at him, words muffled by Kuai’s shirt.

When the door is finally opened you’re the first inside but you are disheartened when you realise it’s still cold in here too, “Why is it so cold in here?” You whinge out.

“It is not that bad,” Raiden comments.

“You’ll warm up,” Harumi laughs lightly, patting your shoulder on her way past you to the kitchen.

Tomas apologises to you with his eyes but you turn to Kuai and point at him, “Come here.” He pretends to be apathetic towards you, stoically moving to your side, “Just stay close by, please,” you ask, giving him your best and prettiest begging look.

“Mhmm,” he agrees easily, his expression extremely self-satisfied, loving how this has all been playing out.

Your hand reaches for his, trying to be as slick as possible, not really wanting the others to make comments on it. Kuai easily grabs your hand when he realises what you’re attempting to do, not bothered by the others and only really wanting to keep you comfortable. His large hand is heated and comfortable and while it doesn’t warm your whole body instantly, it sure does help a whole lot, his closeness is making this cold bearable.

The afternoon is spent all together, drinking tea and chatting, seeing everyone is nice, it’s been a while since you’ve spent some time with them and you had missed it. Kuai makes sure to stay close the whole time, just like you had asked him to, he truly does radiate heat. You think maybe he’s raising his own temperature just to keep you comfortable; you’ll have to remember to thank him for it later.

At some point, Kuai gets up to grab you another drink, you had told him you were fine but he was already standing and walking into the kitchen. Now that he had finally detached from you, everyone focuses their attention on you. Suddenly, you’re feeling very nervous under their eyes.

Tomas breaks the quiet, seemingly voicing what they all want to say, “What’s going on between you and Kuai?”

You don’t really know how to answer that, “I am not sure what you mean.”

“Are you two actually together now?” Harumi clarifies for you.

“We know he is marrying you because of your father,” Raiden adds.

Tomas directs his attention to Raiden, “Not just that, he loves her–”

Harumi gives Tomas a look, scolding him wordlessly for outing Kuai’s feelings for you.

The cold may not be a problem anymore, not with all the heat in your cheeks. You don’t answer straight away but your lack of a reaction to what should have been a bomb drop gives away your knowledge of Kuai’s feelings for you.

Harumi points at you, grinning, “You already know.”

“What? How did you know?” Tomas asks, surprised.

Raiden’s expression is unamused and sympathetic, feeling bad for you at their prying, “You do not have to answer, it is between you and Kuai.”

Tomas agrees with Raiden, “Yes, but also…” he leans in closer to you, over the table, “Tell us.”

You change your expression to an unreadable one, completely stoic as you lean in closer, “He told me.”

When Kuai walks back into the room, your drink in hand, he sees you and Tomas leaning in closer to each other across the table, he raises a brow at the pair of you, “What happened while I was gone?”

“Nothing,” they all chime out together.

You say nothing though, silently sitting back in your chair, Kuai moves to his seat next to you, sliding your tea across the table and then looks at you, waiting for you to tell him. Glancing around the table, you can tell Tomas is silently begging you not to tell him.

You turn to Kuai and smile, thinking of a lie to cover up the reason you were leaning over the table, “I was winning a staring contest against Tomas.”

“I doubt that,” he replies quickly.

Now you’re offended, “And what do you mean by that?”

“If you are going to lie, learn to do it well,” he teases.

“I can lie well,” everyone grumbles in disagreement and you gasp in faux hurt, “I can,” you insist.

“You really can’t,” Raiden says.

You frown at him in response.

“It’s only because you do not lie often, you are confrontational…” Harumi adds, her words trailing off when she looks to Kuai and see he’s shaking his head lightly at her, informing her of her poor word choice.

“I am not confrontational,” you pout out.

Tomas tries placating you, “Of course not, you are just… direct?”

Kuai changes the topic and places a hand on your shoulder, “Anyways, if you were going to pick a lie, you should have picked a believable one, you are very bad at staring contests.”

You look at him and scowl, squinting your eyes at him in anger, “I am not going to say anything because I am not confrontational.”

Everyone at the table is immensely amused by the way this has all unfolded, wearing smiles while you sit with your arms crossed, slightly annoyed at being called confrontational… again.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Kuai insists, a hand moving to pat your head, stroking you in an offer of comfort.

Everyone at the table agrees, trying to make you feel better.

Even though you disagree that you’re confrontational, it’s nice to be amongst friends. You let go of being upset pretty easily, mostly because you weren’t all that upset in the first place, you know they were just joking around.

Both you and Kuai don’t stay much longer after that though, leaving back to his house after another hour or so passes, it was good seeing them, you hadn’t realised how isolated you had been feeling at home until you spent some time around friends. Being here might be a good thing.

₊ ⊹

The night is cold and it’s keeping you awake, the blankets you have are not enough to stop the chill from creeping in or the shivers that run through your body. You think back to earlier today when Kuai offered his bed to you but you feel hesitant to take him up on it, that would be weird right?

Another shiver shakes your body and you decide you don’t care, you are cold and he is a fucking furnace, you are getting into his bed. You move quickly, not wanting to give yourself time to change your mind and also not wanting to feel the cold for too long.

You make it to his room, your footsteps rushed and quiet, you walk up to his side of the bed. Your hand goes for his shoulder, wanting to gently wake him but before you have a chance to call his name and shake him lightly, his hand shoots out and grabs yours.

It startles you and makes you jump, “Geez, sorry–”

“–Are you okay?” He questions, sitting up quickly to check you over.

You’re still shivering, the cold so much worse without a blanket on top of you, “I–I’m fine… never mind, don’t– don’t worry about it,” your words are stuttered slightly, your teeth chattering, “Sorry for wake–waking you, I am going back to bed.”

He frowns sleepily at you, his hand still holding yours, “You’re cold,” he observes.

Another shake wracks through you and he grumbles disapprovingly at it. His hands grab you, pulling your body to his, taking you with him as he lays back in the bed, before rolling to his side. You are laying down facing each other now, his warmth already so welcome. He grabs the blanket, bringing it up around you properly and then he’s shuffling closer, an arm slinging over your side.

His heat makes you hum, “Thank you.”

He only mumbles his response, mostly sounds and not really words. You press your body as close to his as possible, your cold feet tangling with his and he grunts at it, “Why are you so cold?”

“Because it is a cold night,” you mutter out, “We do not all have magical fire powers.”

“You going to be in my bed every cold night?” His voice is thick with sleep, eyes closed.

Pressing your head to his chest, you answer, “If it bothers you, then no.”

“It does not bother me,” his response is quick.

“Kuai?” he hums at you, telling you he’s listening, “Did you make yourself warmer today? When you were next to me?”

He’s quiet for a few beats, “…Yeah, I did.”

“Thank you.”

“You thank me a lot,” he comments.

“You do a lot of things that I am grateful for, I do not know how else to express that,” you sigh, your body finally relaxing, Kuai’s heat finally removing the chill that had settled into your bones.

Kuai holds back from saying the first things that enter his mind, his sleep addled brain immediately thinking of suggestive ways you could thank him, “You don’t have to thank me for the things I choose to do for you.”

“Of course I do,” you’re resolute in your reply because of course you do, who wouldn’t thank someone for their kindness, “Are you saying, that if I were to do something out of the kindness of my heart for you, you would not thank me?”

He immediately disagrees, he would thank you for anything you did for him, “No–”

“–Then why would I not thank you?” You cut him off, already knowing you have won and made your point.

“Just go to sleep,” he grumbles.

You laugh lightly, happy with your victory.

The conversation naturally dwindles though and you find yourself slipping into unconsciousness. With Kuai keeping you warm all night; it is probably one of the most pleasant slumbers you have had in a long time.

₊ ⊹

The past week has been good, you have been a bit home sick, longing for your mothers cooking and company but you have been settling in okay. The days aren’t boring, you have the company of Tomas, Raiden and Harumi. Most often, you have been with Raiden, he seems to have more free time so you spend the day with him more than the others, he is nice company. Though he is quiet and you feel annoying when you talk too much. Sometimes, leaving the interaction wishing you had just been quiet instead.

Kuai has been good to you, he has cooked for you a bit but you have also cooked some nights. Mostly because he is not the best at cooking, you are not going to tell him that though. You’re appreciative of everything he has done to help make you comfortable, you are not about to tell him that his cooking is not good. Because it is okay, it is edible, it’s just not… yummy.

He’s been out today, you would have gone with him but it’s too cold for you, even with him by your side. Some days you can bear it but not today, no, instead you have had a hot shower, like as hot as you could make it without burning yourself. Which you love, the hot showers help with the cold so much but with the cold air, you’ve been worried about your skin drying.

It’s annoying to do but you endure the cold so you can rub moisturiser into your skin, this isn’t so bad and quite pleasant in almost any other season but standing in only a robe with panties underneath, a leg up on the bed, rubbing moisturiser into your skin, during winter… is fucking freezing and you just wanna rug up and get warm.

You don’t even hear Kuai get home, not until he’s standing in your door frame and almost choking on his spit, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” he turns around, arguably not as quick as he could, eyes lingering on your leg perched atop the bed.

“You don’t have to be sorry, it’s fine, I’m only moisturising,” you dismiss, not really all that bothered by him seeing you like this. Though, you did think there was more time until he got back, you would have closed your door if you knew he was going to be home soon.

He turns back around, now that he knows you are fine with his presence and moves across the room to you, “How was your day?”

“Mmm, it was fine… cold, I was alone for most of the day though,” your hands rub at your thigh, massaging the cream into your skin.

Kuai’s voice sounds a little distant, “You did not see Raiden today?”

You only realise why he sounds so distracted when you look to him, his gaze set on your leg, intently watching the way your hands massage at your thigh, “If you like watching so much, why don’t you do it for me,” you joke, not really meaning anything by it.

“I will,” he replies quickly, eyes flicking up to lock on yours, “If you let me.”

Your brows upturn at him, a little confused by his eagerness but it’s not like you’re having fun doing it yourself, “Okay.”

He rounds the bed, moving in front of you; your leg comes down and he lowers himself onto the mattress, tapping your thigh once he’s sat, asking you to put it back up. You do, your foot resting on the bed again, right next to him. You were not expecting this position and it feels incredibly revealing.

He grabs the moisturiser off the bed and pumps some into his hand, eyes looking to yours to check if you’re really okay, before beginning to rub it into your calf. He starts lower on your leg, fingers pressing into your muscles, moving up and down. Eventually, he drags his palms up your leg, reaching your thigh, his fingers grip and pull at the skin and muscle, his hands travelling high up, the pressure feels good.

His hands are warm, the cold not a problem anymore, not with how he’s warming you, not with how intimate this feels, you honestly were not expecting this to feel so… arousing. The higher his hands travel the more your skin heats, seemingly Kuai is having the same problem, his hands growing hotter against your skin the more he rubs the moisturiser in.

Once it’s been absorbed, he asks you for your other leg, which you give, swapping sides for him. His eyes don’t leave your lower half, very carefully watching your thighs, you remember in the back of your head how much he seemed to like gripping your thighs while kissing you.

This time it looks like he’s grabbed more moisturiser, “Kuai, that’s too much, it will take forever to rub in.”

“That’s fine,” he mumbles out.

You insist, “No seriously, my leg can only get so moisturised.”

His eyes look up to yours, “I will find somewhere else to put it,” his eyes drag down your torso with his words, the implication causing blood to rush to your face.

He starts with your calf again, the product slipping all over your skin, he really had grabbed too much. It doesn’t stop him though, his hands move up to get it on your thigh and then his hands are rubbing into your skin again, trying to get it to rub in. Even though there is a surplus of product on you, he persists, massaging you the same as before. It feels good and as he rubs into one spot on your thigh, a small, gasped whine passes your lips.

His fingers are firm as they dig into you, his hands traveling higher again, the sounds that slip from you can’t be helped. You do supress them as much as you can, mostly stopping them in your throat. Kuai pushes all the moisturiser on your calf to your thigh before tugging you to sit in his lap.

You gasp lightly, surprised, “What are you doing?”

“Too much product, going to put in on your other thigh,” he states, his hands rubbing your other thigh again.

The way you’re straddling him is even more exposing than the position you were in before, the lower half of your robe split open now, your panties completely revealed to him. Luckily, your upper half is still covered, you might have fainted if he had your tits in his face while he massaged your thighs.

Kuai is very focused on your thighs though, his hands digging into both of them at the same time, massaging your inner thighs. You’re sensitive where he’s touching, especially like this, your hands hold onto his shoulders, repressed whines getting stuck in your throat. Your thighs twitch under his hands, he moves them further up, all the way to your hips. His hands slip under either side of your panties and rub into the skin of your hips.

Most of the product is absorbed now but Kuai’s hands still travel up and down your thighs, he’s setting you on the edge, his hands exploring you have you almost shaking on top of him. You’re so aroused at this point, pussy wet and needy and he’s only been massaging you.

He still doesn’t stop touching you and you end up pulling his head back by his hair, making him look you in the eyes, “Kuai, please.”

The look in your eyes makes him groan, he hadn’t realised how much of an effect he’d been having on you, mostly touching you for his own enjoyment. He pulls you to him so that you’re sitting in his lap, you twitch and pant at the feeling of his hard cock against your covered cunt.

“Sorry,” he mutters, “Got distracted.”

“Not that, I’m really wet now,” you tell him, not caring for apologies, instead wanting him to do something about it.

He moans at your confession, his hands gripping your thighs harder, his eyes dark and lustful.

“It’s your fault,” you accuse, accurately. “Fix it.”

“And how am I meant to do that?” He smiles cockily up at you.

You decide to snark back, “Are you worried you won’t be able to make me cum?”

His smile doesn’t falter, not falling for your bait, “Yes, I am, why don’t you show me how you do it?”

“Kuai, please,” you plead with him instead, eyes begging him to do something to you, “Do whatever you want to me just– please do something.”

“Whatever I want?” He checks and you nod your head, “And what if I want to do nothing? Leave you a needy mess like this? Then what?”

“Then I will cry,” you answer and you wish that upset him but he seems to be even more pleased at that comment, “You are mean.”

“I am not, you’re just soft,” he retorts.

You grind your hips down into his lap, your pussy rutting against his cock, he chokes on a sudden moan and grips your hips, stopping you from moving.

“Now who is mean?” He asks, voice strained.

“Still you,” it’s grumbled out with annoyance, you’re becoming sexually frustrated.

You decide to try and be meaner, one of your hands leaving his shoulder and dipping into your panties, running through your folds, when you hit your clit you moan and twitch atop of him. His eyes are watching you, small groans vibrating in his chest.

You pull your hand away from your pussy, showing him just how wet you are, fingers coated in your slick. His immediate response is to grab your hand and shove your fingers into his mouth, licking them clean, his mouth hot. You whine at him, he’s officially back to being meaner than you. You feel like a big mess, wet, sticky, needy– downright desperate for him.

He removes your fingers from his mouth, tongue licking at them a final time before pulling away, “That was mean,” he blames.

“Please, Kuai, I will take anything– just make me cum,” you’re back to begging.

He smiles evilly at you, “No.”

“Why not?” Your eyes actually well with tears, threatening to spill.

He holds the side of your face and coos, “Because having you wet and needy on top of me, is really doing it for me.”

“You are evil,” you pout at him.

“You seem to like it,” he’s still smiling at you, like he’s got you in the palm of his hand… and at the moment he does, if he’ll promise to get you off, you’d do just about anything.

He pulls your face to his, lips locking with yours, kissing you deeply. His tongue licking into your mouth, his warmth overwhelming you. His hand on your thigh digs in, holding you firmly. You moan into the kiss, your hips trying to grind down into him again, succeeding marginally. He gasps against you and lets you rut down. Enjoying the friction himself, just as aroused as you are, just better at hiding it. His cock twitches in his pants and you whine into the kiss, wanting so badly to be filled by him.

He pulls away from you, something occurring to him, “Has anyone ever made you cum?”

You’re panting against him, “I hadn’t even been kissed Kuai, take a guess.”

A large smile breaks out across his face, ecstatic at the fact that he’ll be the first person to make you cum, “Mmm, I will make you cum then.”

You perk up, “Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll have you cumming in your little panties for me,” he says it easily but the words embarrass you just as much as they arouse you.

His hands grip either side of your hips and begin dragging you up and down his covered cock, the head of it catching on your clit and making you keel over, your head landing in the crook of his neck, hands holding his shoulders.

Your hips help, moving back and forth with his pace, the friction delicious, it has you salivating for him. He’s gasping out groans under you, enjoying this just as much as you are. He moves his hands to your thighs, spreading you wider on him. His grip stays on your thighs, obsessed with them, with their softness.

You press a light and wet kiss to the skin on his neck, the feeling sends a shiver down his spine, his cock jumping against your cunt. His hands are hot against your thighs, the heat radiating off him suffocating. You muffle your moans into his neck, embarrassed by how whingey and desperate you sound.

Your panties are completely ruined, so slick they’re stuck to your cunt and slipping against the fabric of Kuai’s pants. He pauses for a moment and you whine against him, he shushes you in response. He only stopped to pull his pants down, still in his boxers but wanting less layers between you.

When your pussy comes back into contact with his covered cock, he groans out loudly, mind drifting far from him, if he thinks too hard about how wet you are or how desperate you are for him, he might end up fucking you stupid tonight.

He begins grinding you down into him again, losing his mind at the new feeling, of how much better it feels without his pants on. Without the extra layer, his cockhead catches on your pussy hole through your panties and he groans like he’s been gut punched. You wiggle down on him, seeking penetration that won’t happen, not with all the layers.

You sob into his skin, so horny and wet, you’re drooling onto his shoulder and neck, saliva coating his skin. He keeps rutting you down on top of him, desperate to have you cumming for him. His mind only filled with how you must sound when you finish, how you’ll sound moaning his name.

You can’t think of anything, only thinking of his cock rubbing through your folds and catching on your clit. Every other thought you might have, dying before you are aware of it. You’re shaking against him, getting close to your end, your stomach tensing, cunt fluttering around nothing. Your whines breaking off into nothing, choking on all the sounds you want to make for him.

Kuai notices, “So close aren’t you? Fuc–”

He gets cut off by you biting him, your teeth digging into the skin on his shoulder, you’ve bit him as you cum, his words pushing you over the edge. Your first, thoughtless response being to latch onto him, a way to try and ground yourself. His cock spasms at the feeling, his own orgasm rocking through him, his nails bite into your skin, holding you to him firmly as you both finish at the same time.

He groans loudly, his orgasm shocking him, not expecting to cum so suddenly. You’re limp against him, your teeth no longer imbedded into his shoulder. You pant and shudder against him, aftershocks wracking through your body. He pulls you back, only because he needs to see the look on your face and when he does, he smiles brilliantly at you, overjoyed by your expression.

Your eyes are all gooey, cheeks tear stained, you look like an absolute mess for him and he thinks if he hadn’t just cum, he could cum just from seeing you like this. He tucks you back into his shoulder and holds you to him, letting you regain your strength before trying to move either of you.

You feel dizzy and lost, “It’s never felt that good before.”

“Mmm just you wait,” he retorts humorously.

You still twitch against him slightly but you pull yourself back and press a full kiss to his lips, your tongue licks into his mouth, his hand grabs at your face, letting you kiss him how you please, a moan passing from him to you. You pull back from him properly, sitting in his lap looking at him, feeling a little bashful now.

“What was that for?” He asks, eyes glassy.

You smile sweetly at him and say, “That was a thank you.”

He smiles affectionately at you, his eyes dopey and in love, “You should always thank me like that.”

You bop him on the nose with a finger, “Okay.” Apparently, an orgasm makes you agreeable and happy.

He shakes his head at you in amusement before asking, “Have you eaten yet?”

“Nope, waited for you.”

“Let’s eat then,” he says, picking you up as he stands.

You squeal at him as he carries you down the hall like that, you’re stuck to him, clinging on for dear life, scared you’ll fall but also trusting that he won’t drop you. The whole house is filled with your shared laughter.

₊ ⊹

The next couple weeks are more of the same, you spend a lot of time in Kuai’s bed, seeking his warmth most nights but nothing happened between the two of you. He seemed to be trying to control himself better around you, it would have bugged you but things had honestly been busy. With the wedding approaching fast, you had other things to worry about and your anxieties started peaking their ugly heads again.

And now that the day is here, you feel wracked with nerves the whole time, it hadn’t been so bad… not in the beginning. There were a few hiccups, like the awkwardness between yourself and your father, you’re still holding resentment against him, especially since his motivations remain unknown to you.

Your father had seemed… sombre, when no one was looking there was a sadness looming around him, you aren’t sure what exactly could be the reason for it and you would ask but he wouldn’t tell you either way. He’d only say that it is rude to ask someone why they look run down.

There was one point in the day that you tried talking to him but he had only brushed you off, giving you shallow pleasantries and congratulations. It hurt, to be pushed aside when you had concerns for him, you think the least he could have done was entertain a polite conversation with you but he was not at all interested in talking with you, not in the way you needed him to.

You had also tried asking your mother about your father but like you predicted, she gave away nothing. Instead, she focused on you, how you were feeling and settling, how you were going with Kuai. It was nice to see her, to talk with her properly, you have been missing her company. You also tried a few more times to get her to tell you what was wrong but she’s a tough nut to crack and she continued to assure you nothing was wrong, maybe you are looking too hard for things that aren’t there.

Kuai had been with you most of the day, trying to stay by your side and make sure you felt okay but he had people coming to talk to him a lot, he eventually got pulled away from you, not too long ago actually. Now, he’s probably stuck in a conversation somewhere; one you do not care to stick around for.

This whole day has been uncomfortable and you’re nervous, the future in front of you now and you have no idea what happens after. What changes now? You are aware nothing has actually changed, only the legality of your betrothal to Kuai but things still feel scary, everything feels scary and you feel small. It feels like you may be having a panic attack again.

You scan the crowd for Kuai but fail to find him and instead rush to find a quiet place you can hide for a moment, somewhere you can calm your thoughts and focus on your breathing. It doesn’t help though, now you’re alone with your thoughts, the quiet a welcome change from the overstimulation of being around people but not helping in slowing your thoughts.

All your anxieties are still there, just somehow louder without all the other noises happening around you. You start hyperventilating, now freaking out about not being able to calm down. And you’re frustrated, you have enjoyed your time here for the past month, you feel less isolated, you feel cared for, Kuai makes you feel cared for but you are not coping with the change well, you are not coping with your fathers betrayal well. You are not coping well, not right now. Right now, it feels like the world is caving in around you.

Tears are streaming down your face and you wish they would stop, it will mess with the makeup you’re wearing and then people will have questions, oh gods, what if they have already noticed your absence? What if people are looking for you, what if someone finds you here like this, all sad and pitiful… you might die on the spot, from mortification.

Footsteps can be heard nearby, getting closer to you, it has you holding your breath and standing stock still, hoping the bushes and pillar will be enough to hide you from whoever is in the area. They keep approaching though, their steps seem rushed, like they’re looking for someone, great, they’re probably looking for you.

Kuai rounds the pillar and sees you, he rushes out a sigh of relief, happy to have found you, “I have been looking all over for you, are you okay?” His hands cradle your face and his thumbs gently rub the tears off your cheeks, attempting to fix your makeup.

“I couldn’t find you, I did look,” your voice is shaky, threatening to cry again.

Truthfully, you feel relieved to see him too, his presence immediately bringing you a kind of comfort you hadn’t realised was gone until he was back beside you. You had been leaning on him all day to help keep you together more than you thought, you knew he helped make all of this easier but you hadn’t realised just how much him being near helped you.

“Come here,” he pulls you to him, holding you in a hug, keeping you safe, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You don’t really but you’ll try your best to tell him anyways, “I got scared, nothing changed but it also feels like everything has changed. I am worried about my relationship with my father, I feel betrayed by him… and I guess… I have not been coping as well as I thought I had been.”

“You have been doing remarkably well, considering the circumstances,” his hands rub your back, “You have been doing your best, you have been adjusting as well as anyone can, I am in awe of your resilience, dear.”

You sniffle out, “I worry that I am becoming a burden to you, Kuai.”

“You could never burden me,” he leans down and presses a small kiss high on your cheekbone, when he pulls back he looks you in the eyes, his gaze intense and sincere, “I love you.”

The reminder of his open love for you takes your breath away, he does not repeat it often, only when he thinks you have forgotten it. Only when he thinks you need to hear him say it, he needs you to know how highly he thinks of you, how beautiful you are to him, how amazing you have been throughout all of this.

You never know how to reply to him, saying thank you feels dumb, so you kiss him. Leaning up to him, you press your lips to his gingerly, careful and tentative as you do. You hadn’t kissed during your ceremony, it’s not tradition but in the quiet area you have found, where it is just the two of you, you share a soft kiss, one filled with your appreciation for him and his love. Parting is harder than it should be, every time you kiss him, you hope it will last just a little bit longer.

“You are my husband now,” you comment.

He smiles softly at you, “That I am.”

You both head back to where everyone else is, once you’ve calmed down, he stays with you the whole time and offers you reassuring words. You would have loved nothing more than to go home and be done with the day but you soldier on and get through it.

It is uneventful, more of the same but this time Kuai makes sure to stay close by you, a part of him touching you the whole time. His hand always on you somewhere, whether it be on your back, shoulder, hand, knee, he’s there and he’s making sure you remember it.

Ultimately, he is what gets you through today and you are so grateful to him.

₊ ⊹

After everyone leaves, you’re back at his house… well your house too, it feels a little weird to say though, especially since you feel like you don’t contribute much. His house has been feeling more homely but you can’t tell if that’s his house or him, you think you may just be feeling at home with him.

You shower first, needing to get out of everything and into something comfortable, when you’re finished, you head to Kuai’s room. His door is open and he’s lying on his bed waiting for the shower to be free.

“I am done,” you walk to his side and his hand grabs yours, squeezing once.

He hums at you, “Thank you,” his form moves off the bed, his body brushing up against yours as he slips by you to head in the direction of the shower.

You’re feeling a little odd, you could just go to bed, or even get into his bed and sleep off today but you know people usually celebrate their marriage. It may not be a ‘traditional’ marriage but you would like to sleep with him, he sets your skin on fire, he fills your head with dirty thoughts and… well, you don’t really have any good excuse… he makes you horny and you want him to fuck you.

Sighing, you crawl onto his bed and into the spot he was just in, it’s still warm and cosy. You sit and think about things as you wait for him to come back but all you’re really thinking about is how much you’d like to be filled with him, how hot his skin must get, how vocal he may be. No matter how hard you try to think of something else, your mind wonders back to him and his toned body under you, or above you. Your thighs subtly rub together, seeking friction.

When Kuai come back into the room, he’s wearing his pants low on his hips, he’s shirtless, chest bare and still has some water trailing his abs, his hair down and damp, you can’t help the way you stare at him. You try, you try really hard not to make it obvious but by the way he raises a brow at you, you know you’ve been caught red handed.

You speak before he has the chance to be mean, “Aren’t you cold?”

He hides his smile at your question, “I run hot,” he notes, obviously.

You feel silly, “Right…”

“Was today okay?” He sits down facing you, a hand landing on your knee.

You’re actively having to fight off the shiver that wants to shake your whole body, “It was fine, with you beside me.”

He hums at you in acknowledgement, his hand gripping your knee once before pulling away.

Telling him you want to sleep with him is hard, you haven’t actually tried saying anything yet but he picks up that something is bothering you.

“Did you have something you want to ask me?” He raises his brows to you, encouraging you to ask what you want to.

Biting the bullet, you decide to be direct, “Don’t we… have to consummate our union… or whatever?” You feel very awkward and you’re having a hard time looking him in the eyes.

“We don’t have to,” he replies.

You feel dejected, like he has outright rejected the idea of sleeping with you, “You don’t want to?”

He’s quick to answer, “I want to,” he looks at you, eyes dark, “You know I want to.” His gaze looks like there is a fire raging inside, feelings for you burning just under the surface, “But only if you want to.”

“I want to,” you’re fiddling with your own hands, nervous, “It’s just that, it’d be my first time.”

“Maybe we should wait,” he offers.

“For what?” your brows upturn at him, “I want it.”

He closes his eyes to think for a second, trying to be respectful even though you’re in his bed, asking him to fuck you, on your wedding night. His focus is on trying to keep enough blood in his head so he can think. Not realising that you’ve shuffled closer to him, not until your hand reaches for his wrist and shoves his hand down your panties. You’re resting on your knees for him, legs spread just enough for his fingers to slip through your pussy lips.

He groans, like he’s been punched in the stomach, “That’s just not fair.”

“Trying to show you I want it,” you mutter out, bashful.

He’s weak, how could he resist you when you’ve pushed his fingers to your cunt, your very wet cunt. He drags the tips of his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick all over yourself, you gasp in response and grab onto his shoulder, his skin hot under your hand.

He focuses on where his hand is under your panties, wishing you weren’t wearing any, “I can tell you want it; I still have reservations.”

“Is it because– hah–” you’re cut off by his fingers carefully circling your clit, your nails lightly dig into his skin, “–is it because –mmph– I’m a virgin?” You gasp out, wanting to understand his hesitation.

“Partially,” he hums, his other hand moves to grip your thigh, trying to stop your twitching, “Also because I like your neediness for me, wonder how far I could push you.”

You frown at him, thighs trembling at the stimulation he’s providing, “That would be cruel–”

“–It would be, yes.” He cuts you off only to agree. He looks to your eyes, they’re blown out and glazed and as much as he enjoys taunting you, he would also enjoy getting his dick wet.

You can’t help the way your pussy flutters at his words, you wish you didn’t enjoy how mean he seems to be when it comes to the bedroom. He’s so very often gentle with you and the change in attitude when it comes to this topic affects you in a way you can’t really explain. He knows though, especially since your cunt got so much slicker at his teasing.

He pulls his hand away from you and you whine at him, “I am not going to fuck you–”

“Why–”

He shoves his fingers covered in your wetness into your mouth, effectively getting you to shut up, “Because…” his eyes are set on how your lips wrap around his fingers, on the way your tongue slips between them, licking him clean, “…I said so.” He doesn’t offer anymore explanation.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth slowly, enjoying the view of your lips around them. Once he’s able, he pulls you to him by the back of your neck, his lips harshly meeting with yours. His tongue licks into your mouth, tasting you, he’s fervent, insistent. Mouth hot and the kiss wet, you can only let him kiss you how he pleases and whine into him, he’s overwhelming you and not giving you much of a chance to do anything else.

His hands push at your robe, wanting you to take it off, it slips from your shoulders and pools around your waist. His lips don’t part from yours but his hands move to grab at you, palming your breasts, massaging at you. His fingers pinch at your nipples, rolling them, you break the kiss, moaning louder than you were expecting to.

The sound embarrasses you and your hand moves off his shoulder to cover your mouth, Kuai grunts in disapproval but continues playing with your tits, focus solely on them. You gasp and whine from beneath your palm, your body jerking in response to him. You press your chest forward into his hands more, his eyes are dark and glazed, lost in how big his hands look on your tits.

You pull your hand away, enough to pant out, “Kuai –hah– I can’t– please, I need more.”

“Wants and needs are not the same thing,” his voice is low and gravelly, eyes still on your tits.

You push his hands away from you and stand up on wobbly legs, your robe falls to the floor properly and you push your panties down your legs, kicking them off your feet. Kuai is in awe of you, eyes trailing every inch of your body.

“I know that, and I meant what I said,” you huff at him, you passed want a while ago, you need him now. His hands grab for you but you step away, staying just out of reach, “I need you, please.”

He nods at you quickly, “Mhm whatever you want, just come here.”

You move within arm’s reach of him again and he pulls you down to the mattress, your head lands on the pillows and you laugh in shock. He leans down over you and presses his lips to yours, kissing you quickly. And then he gets off the bed to pull his pants down, freeing his hard cock. He’s large and thick and you think that taking him is going to be… a challenge for sure.

You must look concerned by his size because he says, “Calm down, I meant it when I said I wasn’t fucking you.”

You grumble at him, “I could take it.”

He chuckles, “I am sure you could, not tonight though.”

You’re confused as to what’s happening, “Then what are we doing?”

He crawls back onto the bed, over top of you, and nuzzles his face into the side of yours. His lips press light kisses to your skin before pulling back to look at you smugly. “There are other ways to get off,” he states, matter-of-factly.

“But I want to be…” you trail off before mumbling out, “…full.”

His head drops to your shoulder, and he grumbles lowly about how you’re trying to kill him, or how you’re really testing his patience. Taking a deep breath, he looks back to you and says, “Roll over, onto your side.”

“What? No please?” You joke.

He squints at you and then just flips you onto your side himself, he tucks in behind you, essentially spooning you. His hard body presses into your back, he holds one of his hands out to you, “Spit.”

You do as you’re told without thinking twice, immediately spitting into his palm. He sighs quietly and takes his hand away from you, soft clicking sounds can be heard behind you and Kuai groans out, his head landing on your shoulder. He fists at his cock for a bit, getting it slick for you.

“Keep your thighs closed,” he directs, deep voice by your ear.

His cock slips between your thighs, spreading your pussy lips open on his thick length. You gasp at the feeling of his dick running along your cunt, the head lightly grazing your clit as he slips against you. He moans into your shoulder at the warmth of your pussy, his cock jerking at how wet you are for him.

He breathes in as he pulls back, his dick slick with you. He pushes in between your thighs and you gasp out a whine at how his tip hits your clit. Kuai starts a steady pace, thrusting backwards and forwards, his dick sliding against your pussy. Looking down, you watch the way the head of his cock pokes out between your thighs, you clamp them together as much as you can and Kuai’s hips stutter, a moan pulled from his chest.

You’re leaking against him, his dick sliding easily through your folds, his breath sputters at the plushness of your thighs, at the slick of your creamy cunt. The tip of his cock oozes thick globs of precum, his arousal driving him insane. His hand grips onto your hip, holding you still and needing to ground himself.

Your hips move with him, your need for him heightening. He’s so hard and pressed right against you, it would be so easy for him to change his mind and push inside. Moans and whines spill from you freely, your hand reaches back and tangles into his hair. Kuai presses his head to your shoulder, his pants and moans right next to your ear.

“Kuai –hah– can’t you just –nngh– put it in,” your eyes burn, like the pleasure might make you cry.

He groans into your neck, “No –nngh– I couldn’t –hah–”

He is right, with how big he is and the fact you’ve not had sex before, there is no ‘just’ putting it in. But even though he’s right, your horny brain doesn’t care, “Please~”

“No,” he bites back, “Now stop asking or I’ll stop.”

You whinge at him and even though you want to keep protesting, you think better of it, knowing he definitely would hold off on his own pleasure just to torture you further. Kuai mouths at the side of your neck, getting carried away and sucking at your skin, no doubt leaving behind some dark marks.

He’s getting lost in feeling of your wet cunt and soft thighs, “You’ve got such –hah– soffft skin –fuck– pussy is fucking dripping –nngh– for me.”

His slightly slurred and growled out words drive you mental, moans getting stuck in your chest from how you try to stuff them down. You rock your hips back against him, desperation clawing up your spine.

Kuai’s hand pins your hip to the bed, holding you down, wanting you to stay steady so he can fuck through your thighs how he pleases, “Be good and stay –hah– still.”

Your cunt jumps against him, you’re throbbing for him, your thighs slick and a complete mess, both from his precum and your arousal. You’re frustrated from the lack of fullness, your pussy begging for his cock.

“Kuai~ please –hah–” you let yourself trail off, remembering his threat.

His thrusts speed up, the glide easy, meeting no resistance with the complete mess made of your lower half. You can feel the growls in Kuai’s chest and hear the gasping noises he’s making against your skin, his tongue licks at your neck before he whispers to you.

His voice is low and grumbly, broken only by gasped moans, “Bet you have the tightest little cunt –nghh– probably have me cumming just from filling you –hah–”

You tug at his hair and he moans into your ear the sound has your pussy quivering for him, all the sounds he makes sets you on fire. His hot skin holds you close to him, making you feel faint. And then his mouth is back on your skin, leaving behind more marks.

The sounds you try to stuff down drive him crazy, you’re trying so hard to be quiet but can’t help but make noises and it’s not only boosting his ego, it’s making his cock throb for you. He has half a mind to cave and fuck you open on his cock right now.

Kuai’s cognizance is far from him, his thoughts only focused on your slick cunt and thighs on his cock. He slurs out to you, “You’re such a –hah– pretty little thing –mmph– my pretty little thing –nghh– my pretty little wife.”

You gasp and twitch against him, hearing him refer to you as his wife has your head buzzing, something primal in you loving being referred to as such. Your stomach fills with butterflies, his words doing things to you that you don’t really have the wherewithal to understand right now.

You’re getting close to finishing, your pussy twitches and your stomach clenches, your hand in his hair holding on tighter. He groans into your neck, his own end sneaking up on him. He’s losing his mind at everything, everything about how he’s fucking your thighs right now has him going crazy.

His dick spasms between your legs and his teeth bite into your neck, the feeling a shock, it runs down your spine to your cunt. The blunt pain pushes you off the edge and you cum on Kuai’s cock, choked moans pulling from your chest. You gasp and whine, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes. Your mind is gone as you cum on him, the only thing slightly grounding you is the feeling of Kuai’s hot skin and his tongue as he licks at the bite mark he left behind.

The way you jolt against Kuai and how your thighs seem to clamp tighter have his own orgasm slipping from him. His cum landing on your thighs and his bed. He groans loudly into your skin as he cums and he finds himself wishing so badly that he had cum inside you. He nips at your skin some more as he comes down, enjoying the way you jerk against him as he does.

The hand he had on your hip wanders over your body now that he doesn’t have to hold you down, he pulls at the skin on your thighs, at your tits, and when he reaches your face he wipes the drool away from the corner of your mouth.

He checks you over, “You with me?” You hum out to him in confirmation, and he adds, “Good, cause I’m not done with you.”

His words send a thrill through you, what else could he possibly do to you?

He pulls his cock from between your thighs carefully and then pulls you to lay on your back, he positions himself over you. You’re so pliable now that you’ve cum, letting him manoeuvre you however he pleases. His hands push your thighs open and he’s breathless at the sight, you’re a mess, slick and cum coating your thighs and cunt. He groans out at it, his mouth pooling with saliva, he wants to put his mouth on you so bad.

His fingers drag along your skin, collect what cum he had gotten on you, and then his fingers are pressing through your folds. He’s playing with your pussy, coating it in his cum. A single finger prods at your entrance and slowly slides inside. The grip you have on his single finger almost has him going feral, the fact you wanted him to fill you with no preparation makes him nearly laugh.

You gasp at how his finger has pushed into you, not expecting it but enjoying it, finally having something inside. He gently moves it in and out, slowly fucking you, your thighs try to close at the stimulation but Kuai body between your legs stops them from getting too far. His free hand moves to your thigh and holds you open, his gaze greedy for how open you are for him right now.

He can’t stop thinking about how you would feel split open on his cock, how you would leak around him, how tight you must be and how fucked full he’d make you feel. His skin is buzzing, his cock hard for you again. His finger retreats and you whine at him, the sound you make has his heart racing, you sound so fucked out and cute.

“You make such cute little noises,” he hums out to you.

“Why–”

He shushes you, “Just lay there and let me play with you.”

Gods, he’s going to kill you, your cunt jumps at his words and your stomach twists in knots. The things he has been saying tonight have you gnawing at the bit, wanting him to stop because it’s embarrassing and also never wanting him to shut up because it’s arousing you.

Kuai’s finger collects more of the cum he left on you and then he pushes it inside your cunt, he’s finger fucking his cum inside you and it’s going to make you faint. His finger crooks up inside you and your hands move to cover your mouth, loud moans threatening to rip from you.

Kuai only smiles at your reaction and hums, “Can try and be as quiet as you want, won’t work.”

Your pussy clenches down on him at the sound of his voice and his smile grows larger, he’s enjoying watching your reactions to him, loving the control he has as he fingers you. His pace has been steady and consistent but with his own need to see you cum clawing up his spine his hand speeds up, fucking you faster and harder, his head filling with images of you cumming for him.

He’s thinking about how tight your little cunt will grip him as you finish and how you would feel cumming on his cock. His eyes are glazed and blown, fucked out and he’s not even fucked you. You’re gasping underneath your hands, eyes rolling to the back of your head and spilling tears. The sight has Kuai enamoured, relishing in the way you’re crying over his single finger.

He crooks his finger up to hit a specific spot inside you continuously and it has you cumming with a suppressed shout. Kuai was right, you grip him tight as your cunt spasms around him, your body twitches and your thighs quiver.

As he pulls his finger from you, all your slick and the cum he pushed inside oozes from your convulsing pussy hole. He tuts at you in mock disapproval, you’re not really sure what he’s referring to though, you’re still panting, trying to catch your breath after your second orgasm.

When you’ve regained some of your faculties, you look to Kuai and see the absolutely fucked out look on his face. His eyes glassy and wet, focused on your pussy, his cock fully erect again. He doesn’t look all there at all, like his thoughts are a million miles away from him.

“My pretty little wife has made a mess all on my sheets,” his words are slurred together, “gonna have to clean it up,” his hands run along the insides of your thighs, “You gonna let me clean it up?” He finally looks to you, his eyes bordering on feral.

You nod shakily at him, words failing you right now.

At your approval he’s immediately shuffling between your legs, you don’t know what you were expecting but you’re shocked when he gets on his stomach and pushes your legs open as wide as they will go before licking up the whole length of your pussy. Your stomach jumps in delight and shock, your hand moves back to your mouth to cover the moan that he pulls from you.

He’s lapping at you like a starved animal, not really cleaning any mess but more… making an entirely new one. Your head is up in the clouds, not able to focus on anything but how it feels to have his tongue lick at your pussy. His mouth then suddenly latches onto you, his tongue entering your hole and drinking down all of your cum.

His face presses as close to your pussy as he can possibly get, his nose up against your clit makes you clench down on his tongue and a loud groan rumbles from deep in his chest. The vibrations of the noise he makes has you crying out, your hand doing little to stop it. Kuai’s hands hold onto your thighs, gripping them tighter at the sound you make.

You’re practically panting for him, your hips rise and fall, attempting to ride his face. He holds you down, his mouth fervent on you, hot and wet. The noises that fill the room are embarrassing and obscene. Lewd, wet noises of your cunt and his mouth enter your head and you twitch in response, your skin heating at the realisation that it’s your pussy making those noises.

Your hand is getting damp from how you drool at Kuai’s tongue in your pussy, eventually you can’t take it and need something to grip onto. Your hand moves from your mouth and tangles in his hair, the other gripping at the pillows above you. The moans and whines he pulls from you are falling freely now, unobstructed and just as embarrassing to you as your messy cunt.

When you tug on his hair accidentally, he groans into your pussy, his tongue moving more desperately. Kuai’s hips rut into the mattress below, not able to stop himself from seeking friction. His head fully invaded by you and your cunt. He’s almost whining into your pussy, obsessed with how fucking slick you are, how you seem to just keep getting slicker.

His nails bite into the skin on your thighs where he’s holding you open; you’re shaking like a leaf for him. Your whole-body trembles with how sensitive you are and he’s happily tongue fucking you through it. He doesn’t stop making small noises of pleasure as he licks into you, his hips still rutting down into the bed.

Your whines hit a higher pitch, your hands grabbing and letting go before grabbing again, your orgasm is on the tip of your tongue, or on the tip of Kuai’s tongue and it feels like too much. Your limbs want to flail but Kuai is holding your legs still, not at all deterred from getting you to finish.

“Kuai~ It’s –hah– too –mmph– much,” you cry out to him.

You don’t know if he chooses to not acknowledge you or if he’s so far gone that he doesn’t notice, but he continues tongue fucking you into the next dimension. The relentlessness has you crying now, tears falling freely at the overstimulation. You’re shaking so much and it truly feels like you need to run away from the feelings you’re being given. But even if you try to wiggle away, it doesn’t work, Kuai uses barely any of his strength to hold you still. He grunts into your cunt in disproval, the most communication he’s given since he first put his mouth on you.

A gasped whine is let out as you cum, your pussy spasms around Kuai’s tongue and he moans out at it, nearly whining into you again. His tongue fucks you through it and his nose presses to your clit, he shakes his head lightly to encourage the stimulation. He drinks down your cum while groaning, enjoying himself immensely, ecstatic that he’s finally gotten to shove his tongue inside you.

He pulls back from you, not wanting to overstimulate you more than he already has. You don’t even feel conscious anymore, vision dark and unfocused. The thing that brings you back to your body is Kuai biting at your inner thighs, he’s leaving marks on you, teeth biting in hard enough that an impression of his teeth will be left behind for a while. You let him do it, not really present enough to move anyways and even if you were, you like the marks he’s left behind, you like how possessive he seems to be in bed. It screams to that primal part of your brain.

Kuai pulls back to look at you and the marks he’s left on your thighs, he smiles to himself, full of pride. His hands gently smooth over your thighs before he moves up the bed to lay next to you, he pulls you to your side and hold you to him. You close your eyes, your body soft and pliable, like a ragdoll.

“Are you still with me?” He asks.

Without opening your eyes, you retort, “Are you?”

He chuckles at you but is also sheepish, “Yeah, sorry… I got carried away.”

“Don’t apologise, I liked it,” you mumble out to him, “a lot.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Good.”

You remember that he was hard again and open your eyes to look at him, “Do you need me to… are… do you need help?” You have a hard time phrasing your question.

He looks away from you, his cheeks a light pink, “I am fine…”

You object, “But you didn’t–”

“–I did.”

Your eyes widen in understanding and then you feel incredibly hot in the face, “Oh.”

He hums at you and changes the topic, “Are you satisfied?”

“For now,” you smile cheekily at him.

He leans down to you and presses a soft kiss to your lips, “I think… you might be trying to kill me.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” you raise a brow to him.

“Mhmm,” he dismisses before leaning in to kiss you again.

His lips are gentle and he’s being tender with you, kissing you sweetly after making you cum for him three times. His warm hand skates along your skin, the action raises your skin and you press closer to him, seeking his warmth.

He parts from you and pulls the blanket over the two of you, your hand tangles in his hair again, this time brushing it with your fingers, playing with it mindlessly. You end up scratching at his scalp lightly and he melts for you, enjoying the feeling. You play with his hair for a while but everything is heavy, including your eyelids.

You pull your hand from his hair and instead wrap it around him, tugging him close, he tickles your back as you fall in and out of sleep, you aren’t sure how long he stays awake for but wrapped in his arms, warm and content, you drift to sleep not too long after he presses a small, final kiss to your lips.

₊ ⊹

kung lao had you pinned beneath him, strong thighs bracketing your hips as he drove into you with deep, measured strokes. the room was filled with the wet sound of skin on skin and your breathy moans. he loved taking his time like this, watching your face twist in pleasure and feeling the way your pussy clenched around him every time he bottomed out.

but tonight you were feeling bold.

“fuck, daddy…” you whimpered when he hit that perfect spot inside you.

kung lao froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt. his dark eyes snapped to yours, pupils blown wide with sudden, feral hunger.

“what the fuck did you just call me?” his voice was low, dangerous, and dripping with lust. his cock twitched hard inside you.

you bit your lip, suddenly shy under that intense stare, but the way your walls fluttered around him gave you away.

“…daddy,” you whispered again, softer this time.

a guttural groan ripped out of his chest. kung lao’s control snapped completely. he pulled back and slammed into you so hard the bed creaked, driving the air from your lungs.

“say it again,” he growled, one hand fisting the sheets beside your head while the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise. “fucking say it.”

you cried out as he set a brutal pace, hips snapping forward with raw power. “daddy— fuck, lao— daddy!”

he fucking lost it.

the smug, cocky champion you knew was replaced with something primal. his thrusts grew faster, deeper, almost punishing in their intensity. sweat glistened on his chest and shoulders as he fucked you like he wanted to ruin you for anyone else.

“shit, baby,” he panted, voice wrecked. “you have no idea what that does to me. calling me daddy like a little slut… fuck.”

he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, desperate kiss before pulling back just enough to watch your face. every time the word “daddy” left your lips he rewarded you with a particularly hard thrust, grinding against your clit until you were shaking.

you were so close already, legs trembling around his waist. and kung lao could feel it — the way you tightened around him, the way your moans pitched higher. his own orgasm was building fast, that deep, electric heat pooling at the base of his spine.

he started fucking you harder. not just faster, harder. deep, desperate strokes that made your whole body jolt. the final approach hit him like a freight train, that moment where it felt too good, where every nerve was on fire and he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“gonna cum,” he snarled, voice hoarse. “gonna fill you up, baby— fuck—”

you wrapped your legs tight around him, heels digging into his back, pulling him impossibly deeper. kung lao groaned loudly, the sound breaking into something almost feral as he pounded into you with those last, brutal, erratic thrusts.

“say it— one more time,” he demanded through gritted teeth.

“daddy— please, daddy—!”

that did it. with a deep, guttural moan he buried himself as deep as he could go and came hard, hips stuttering against yours as he spilled inside you in thick, pulsing ropes. he kept thrusting through it — short, desperate strokes like he couldn’t stop, milking every last drop while your own orgasm crashed over you, walls squeezing him rhythmically.

when both of you were spent, he finally collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you completely. his face pressed into the crook of your neck, breathing ragged and hot against your skin.

“fuck… you’re gonna kill me one day,” he mumbled, voice muffled. then, softer, almost shy: “say it again later?”

you laughed breathlessly and ran your fingers through his messy hair.

“yes, daddy.”

When you cracked an eye open, the Fire God himself was sitting cross-legged beside you, smiling serenely.

“Afternoon, Y/N. I trust your nap has been… restorative?” Liu Kang said, voice dripping with that peaceful-monk energy.

You responded by crawling directly onto his lap and shoving your head under his palm, demanding continued service.

He chuckled. “As you wish.”

Across the courtyard, Kung Lao gasped like a scandalized auntie.

“How come you never let me pet you!?” he whined dramatically, hands on his hips.

“Probably because you always try to touch her belly,” Raiden called back, his smile warm and clearly amused.

Kung Lao threw his hands up in despair.

“But it looks so soft! Why soft if no pet?!”

You cracked an eye open just long enough to shoot Kung Lao the most unimpressed feline glare imaginable before melting right back into Liu Kang’s hand. Your purr rumbled louder, vibrating through his lap as you stretched out luxuriously and got even more comfortable, because why not make the god adjust around you.

The other champions drifted over like curious pigeons.

“Dude, that’s literally a death wish,” Johnny said, pointing at Kung Lao like he’d committed a war crime. “You try to pet a cat’s belly, you’re basically signing a consent form for violence.”

Kenshi nodded with full solemnity.

“I have the scars to prove it,” he added, completely deadpan.

Both men sent you soft smiles, as if greeting a tiny, fluffy deity in repose. You lifted your head just enough to meow at them — your version of a royal nod — then promptly closed your eyes again.

Their voices blended into a warm background hum, the courtyard busy and alive around you. Liu Kang’s fingers slid behind your ears, down your neck, back up again, and your entire feline body went boneless under the attention.

You let the warmth, the chatter, and the god’s gentle petting pull you deeper into your blissful little nap. If only you could stay in such heaven forever. But alas, the cat gods aren’t so merciful.

Liu gently picked you up from his lap. You meowed in disapproval at him, demanding he leave you exactly where you were. He chuckled amusedly.

“Apologies, Y/N. I have errands I must run,” he smiled, placing you down next to him.

You huffed, rubbing your head against the edge of his knee to get one last pet out of him. He relented, stroking between your ears once more before standing up. He peered down at you curiously before speaking again.

“I do recall you also have some duties to attend to?” he said knowingly.

You meowed back at him indignantly, blatantly back talking the fire god.

“A compelling argument, I’m sure,” Liu teased back at you.

The others were watching the interaction with full amusement. You trudged toward them with all the dramatic flair of a cat wronged by fate, brushing your lithe body against their legs just enough to acknowledge their existence. Then, as if bestowing a great honor, you curled yourself over Kung Lao’s feet and stared up at him expectantly.

He froze for half a second. Then his whole face lit up.

“Oh– oh she picked me,” he whispered triumphantly before scooping you up like you were a divine relic.

He scratched your head eagerly.

You purred in approval, allowing him his victory… for now.

You endured a few more over-eager pets from Kung Lao before you started squirming, signaling your royal displeasure. He loosened his arms immediately, and you hopped to the ground with feline grace.

You gave the group a parting meow, flicking your tail in a very “farewell, peasants” kind of way.

Unfortunately, the fire god had been right. You did have duties. Annoying. Tedious. Not nearly as fun as getting worshipped by your friends.

Still, you’d see them all later at Johnny’s mansion.

He was throwing a “just because” party for the Earthrealm champions.

Translation—it was Tuesday and he wanted attention.

You went about your day, begrudgingly finishing your tasks and chores. Back in your human form. Tragic. Absolutely tragic. Everything was slower, heavier, and inconvenient. How mortals endured this, you’d never know.

By the time you wandered into the kitchen, you were starving and already scanning the counters like a burglar casing the place. Someone’s snack was about to become your snack. Finder’s eaters.

Inside, Raiden and Kenshi were seated at the table, mid-conversation, sharing a late lunch. Both men looked up when you entered, each offering their own version of a soft smile.

“Evening, Y/N,” Raiden greeted, voice warm but a little shy, like always.

“Hello, Raiden. Kenshi,” you murmured back, your tone naturally melodic even when you weren’t trying.

Kenshi gave you a small nod of acknowledgment, calm and unreadable as ever.

You sauntered over with all the grace and entitlement of a housecat who owned the entire temple, leaned in, and pressed a soft peck to each of their cheeks. Before either man could fully process that, you flicked your tongue out just enough to give each a tiny kitten lick.

Both of them froze.

Absolutely malfunctioned.

Raiden’s breath hitched like he’d been struck by lightning, and Kenshi’s ears went pink, jaw tightening as he very deliberately pretended he hadn’t reacted at all.

They were used to you doing this in your feline form.

But in your human form?

With your lips?

Yeah, no. Their souls left their bodies for a second.

You breezed right past them like you hadn’t just short-circuited two trained warriors and rummaged through the cupboards with the singular focus of a starving predator.

Behind you, Raiden cleared his throat a little too quickly. Kenshi exhaled through his nose, trying to get his heartbeat under control.

And both men tried—very poorly—to act like this was normal.

Ironic enough, it was. They’ll just never get used to it.

Kenshi and Raiden slipped back into their conversation—tournament updates, training progress, who was overworking, who was slacking—standard champion chatter. You, however, tuned every word out the second your predatory instincts locked onto a sacred prize:

A can of tuna.

You made a delighted little meow under your breath, grabbed it instantly, and utterly ignored the big Sharpie label across the front:

“JOHNNY. DO NOT TOUCH.”

Yeah, right. As if mortal ink could stop you.

You padded right back to Raiden, pressed yourself into his side like he was your designated support human (he is), and held the can up to him with the sweetest, most manipulative eyes on the planet.

“Raiden… can you open this please?”

He blinked down at the can, then at you, then back at the can—like he absolutely understood the consequences of enabling you but was helpless to resist anyway. His expression softened, warm and amused, and he took it.

With one smooth motion, he opened it and handed it back.

You lit up instantly.

A little pleased rumble vibrated in your throat as you dove into your hard-won snack like the shameless little tuna-loving menace you were.

Behind you, Kenshi murmured something like, “You are encouraging her.”

Raiden only smiled, watching you with that soft, fond glow that gave away way more than he realized.

You licked the last of the tuna from your fingers with the kind of single-minded focus only a feline shapeshifter could achieve… until your gaze slid sideways.

Raiden had one last piece of chicken on his plate.

Prime. Juicy. Perfectly seasoned.

Basically calling your name.

You stared at it.

Then back at your own empty can.

Then at the chicken.

Then at Raiden’s hand.

Your brain was doing the world’s slowest debate, and Kenshi could sense every second of it. His smirk grew with each pass of your eyes.

Before you could even fully decide whether you wanted to be bold, the chicken moved.

Right into your personal space.

You blinked up, startled, only to see Raiden holding it out for you with the brightest, gentlest smile like feeding you scraps was the pinnacle of his day.

Kenshi didn’t even bother hiding the smug curve on his lips. He kept eating, head slightly tilted, absolutely savoring this more than the food in front of him.

You, meanwhile, had Raiden offering you chicken like you were his beloved house pet he was desperately trying to woo.

And the tragic part?

You genuinely thought he was just being nice.

Raiden, poor man, was already halfway in love. He was lucky you’d left the room, because the way he looked after you walked out?

Absolutely pathetic in the softest, sweetest way possible.

You’d flashed him that bright smile, sharp little canines and all, thanked him like he’d offered you a rare treasure, and then head-butted his shoulder in pure instinct before remembering you weren’t currently a four-legged creature. The apology only made it worse for him—he practically melted, cheeks flushing as you padded out of the kitchen with your belly full and your tail-less self somehow still managing to swish.

Kenshi watched the whole thing like a man witnessing a slow-motion car crash.

He stabbed a piece of food, sighed, and said, “Why don’t you just tell her?”

Raiden blinked, eyebrows drawing up. “…Tell her what?”

Kenshi stared at him. Fully stared.

He even paused mid-chew.

“Tell her you like her,” he repeated, voice flat. “It’s not that hard.”

Raiden’s entire soul malfunctioned on the spot. His face went cherry-red, eyes suddenly fascinated by literally anything that wasn’t Kenshi’s face.

“…It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, palms fiddling with the edge of his plate. “I’m sure she does not feel the same way. I’m grateful enough to have her friendship.”

Kenshi set his chopsticks down and leaned back like he was aging ten years.

“Raiden,” he said dryly, “she just nuzzled you like a housecat marking its mate.”

Raiden made a mortified sound and buried his face in his hands.

Kenshi sighed again. A long, suffering sigh.

“…She likes you, you idiot.”

Raiden blinked at him, and you could practically see the gears grinding in his head like a wagon with one busted wheel.

“She’s just… very affectionate, is all,” he tried again, voice smaller this time.

Kenshi gave him the longest, driest stare known to mankind. Arms crossed. Posture screaming are you hearing yourself right now?

“When,” Kenshi asked slowly, “have you ever seen her be that affectionate with any of us, Raiden?”

Raiden opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Shifted in his seat.

Looked like someone had just asked him to explain advanced physics while on fire.

“Well… she’s always cuddling us in her feline form…?” he said weakly.

Kenshi hit him with the look.

That "I cannot believe I am friends with this man” look.

“She’s an affectionate cat, not an affectionate human,” Kenshi deadpanned. “Aside from how she greets us, sure, but even then—”

He leaned forward a bit, like he was trying to force Raiden’s last two brain cells to connect.

“—she always gravitates to you when she’s human. She sits near you. She talks softer with you. She brings you food when she shifts back because she says she ‘forgets you’re not a predator’.” Kenshi raised a brow. “You’re telling me you haven’t noticed any of that?”

Raiden’s silence said everything.

Kenshi dragged a hand down his face.

“…Burning gods give me strength,” he muttered.

Raiden just stared at the doorway you’d disappeared through, expression caught somewhere between stunned and hopeful, like someone had just handed him the ancient riddle key to the universe.

And for the first time, he actually seemed to wonder if maybe—just maybe—Kenshi wasn’t exaggerating.

The day drifted by without any further drama, thank the gods. Raiden wandered off after Kenshi basically slapped him across the face with common sense, and Kenshi left looking like he needed a nap or a drink. Maybe both.

Meanwhile, you retreated to your room to start getting ready for Johnny’s “totally casual, super low-key, definitely not mandatory” party.

Your phone buzzed.

Johnny: dress code is sexy formal.

Johnny: SEXY.

Johnny: if u don’t look hot enough I will dress u myself.

You stared at the messages.

Rolled your eyes so hard it could’ve powered a wind turbine.

But fine. Whatever. The man had a point—his parties always ended with half the Earthrealm heroes looking like they came off a magazine cover anyway. Might as well join the chaos.

You went straight for a classic: a dangerous black dress. The type that whispered “elegant” but screamed “try me.”

You showered quickly, stepping out with steam curling around you as you began your usual ritual. Makeup first: a smoky eye sharp enough to kill a man, a cat-eye wing so crisp it could slice through steel, and a deep red lip that could make even Liu Kang sweat.

Hair next—your soft locks fell into loose waves, intentionally messy in that “I woke up flawless” kind of way.

Jewelry was minimal but deadly. Silver and cool blues, enough to draw attention to your eyes, which absolutely popped against the dark tones of your look.

When you finally stepped back to look in the mirror, even you had to admit—

If Johnny didn’t scream when he saw you, he’d lost his touch.

Gods, you were a problem.

The dress dipped low enough to make even a monk stumble over his vows, and it clung to every curve like it had been custom-sewn onto your body by a tailor who wanted you arrested for public endangerment. Your silhouette alone could’ve taken out half the Netherrealm.

Your eyes narrowed into those predatory little slits you got whenever you felt yourself. Feline even in human skin. You turned left—deadly. Turned right—lethal. One more slow spin, and yep… anyone who saw you tonight was doomed.

You slipped on your heels, each step adding that sinful sway to your hips, grabbed whatever minimal items you needed, and headed out the door like you were walking into battle.

Honestly? You were.

Just not the kind anyone was emotionally prepared for.

The mansion was practically vibrating with bass, neon, and questionable decisions. Classic Johnny Cage ambience. Bodies swayed on the makeshift dance floor, someone was already drunk-crying on the balcony, and the smell of expensive cologne, cheap alcohol, faint weed and tobacco mixed in the air like… well, a Johnny party.

Johnny spotted you mid-sentence with his co-star and completely short-circuited. His jaw dropped so hard it should’ve bounced off the marble. His gaze dragged down your dress like it was doing slow, sensual CPR.

He practically lunged toward you, hands finding your waist immediately like he’d paid rent there.

“Hey kitten, glad you could make it,” he purred, giving you that movie-star smirk that ruined half of Hollywood.

You smirked right back up at him, leaning in to greet him the way you always did. Johnny shivered at the tiny kitten lick on his cheek, gripping your waist just a bit tighter.

“Hey Johnny,” you purred, voice velvet-smooth. “I see the party’s going well. Have any of the others arrived yet?”

Johnny hummed, though his eyes were still glued to you like he was trying to memorize the neckline of your dress.

“Yeah, Lord Liu Kang’s by the kitchen with Lao and Kenshi. The ninja boys are in the living room, Bi-Han is probably sitting in a corner being… Bi-Han. And Raiden is somewhere.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, flashing him a smile that let just a hint of your canines peek through.

“Thanks, darling. I’ll make sure to greet them.”

His grin stretched wider. “Of course, kitten.”

Then he did another full scan of your outfit, this time even slower. You raised a brow teasingly.

“So? Sexy enough? Or will I be forced to change?”

You spun, letting the dress hug and cling exactly the way it was made to. Johnny let out a breath that probably qualified as a sin in ten religions.

“You look delicious, kitten. Whoever you sink your claws into tonight is lucky.”

You laughed, low and sweet, brushing his arm before slipping away to greet the others—your heels clicking softly as you made your way deeper into the party.

The first people you ran into were Kuai and Tomas, both of them doing a very un-Lin-Kuei double takes when they actually registered you.

Tomas blinked once.

Kuai blinked twice.

Both men swallowed like their throats had suddenly tightened.

“Kuai! Tomas!” you chirped, already sliding into their space before either could recover. You wrapped your arms around their necks one at a time, pulling them into warm hugs and nuzzling your nose against their cheeks in greeting.

Tomas’ cheeks flushed immediately. “Y/N! You look… wow. Stunning.” His smile was so bright you almost mistook it for a burst of lightning.

You giggled, giving them a playful spin, your dress hugging every inch with criminal intent. Tomas whistled softly. Kuai just smirked, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Seems the Wu Shi kitten is feeling feral today,” Kuai drawled.

You laughed, bumping your hip into his with a mischievous grin.

“Indeed, this kitty decided to show her claws tonight.”

“And who would be the poor fortunate soul trapped in your claws tonight?” Kuai prodded, smirking at your wink while Tomas crossed his arms and grinned like he knew he was in danger.

“Who knows, Kuai?” you purred, letting your voice drip like honey. “Might even be one of you two.”

Both men froze for half a second, biting their lips in unison like you’d sucker-punched them with pure temptation. You laughed, delighted, and they shook their heads—half flustered, half amused—as conversation drifted on.

Eventually, you tilted your head. “And where’s your brother?”

Tomas’ voice rumbled easily, “Balcony. Outside. That way.” He pointed toward the sliding doors.

“Thank you, boys,” you sang, already turning, hips swaying with zero remorse for the chaos you left in your wake. “I’ll see you two later. Have fun!”

“Later, Whisky!” Tomas called, teasing.

Kuai lifted a hand and flicked it in a lazy goodbye, eyes still tracking your silhouette like he wasn’t sure you were real.

The air on the balcony was cool, crisp, quiet. And then there was Bi-Han: standing there like a brick wall of frostbite and bad attitude, scaring off every mortal dumb enough to wander too close. You padded toward him like a lazy panther, all effortless curves and smug confidence.

He heard your footsteps before he saw you, turning just enough to catch your silhouette in his peripheral. You watched his eyes flick down your body, then back up—slow, deliberate, approving. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth like he was trying not to give you the satisfaction.

“Bi-Han…” you purred, leaning against the rail beside him, “you can’t just stand here looking so grouchy at a party.”

He exhaled, a little puff of frost curling out with it. “This environment,” he muttered flatly, “is irritating.”

“Mm. Tragic,” you teased lightly, brushing a fingertip over the metal railing near his hand.

That earned you his full attention. He turned, posture shifting just enough to face you completely, eyes dragging over you again like he was committing every inch to memory. The slight tilt of his head, the subtle way he smirked, the soft grunt he made under his breath—all of it said exactly what his mouth didn’t:

He liked what he saw.

“Why bother coming, hmm?” you laughed softly.

He let out the most put-upon sigh known to man and—yes—actually rolled his eyes.

“My insipid brothers insisted I attend. A ‘change of scenery,’ as Tomas dumbly put it.” His scowl deepened like the memory physically pained him.

You pouted dramatically and reached out to poke his arm.

“Loosen up a bit, parties can be fun if you let them!”

He side-eyed you so hard you could feel it in your soul. A look full of distaste, as if the mere idea of “fun” offended him on a spiritual level.

Then—grudgingly, stubbornly—his shoulders shifted. Not much, barely anything. But enough for you to notice.

You grinned. “Come on, Bi-Han! Live a little!”

Your eyes narrowed playfully, mischief curling in your tone.

“Maybe I’ll help you find someone who can help you destress for the night,” you added, wiggling your brows teasingly.

The glare he shot you could’ve frozen the sun.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Bi-Han’s voice was flat as a blade, absolutely deadpanned. You cackled, delighted, and wiggled your fingers at him in a dramatic little farewell before slipping back inside.

Time to hunt down the rest of your crew.

Funny enough, still no Raiden. Usually you’d spot him the second you walked into a room—either because he gravitated toward you or because you could feel those soft, shy eyes on you instantly. Weird. But whatever. You’d trip over him eventually.

You stepped into the kitchen and immediately lost it.

Kung Lao and Kenshi were locked in what could only be described as the drunkest, dumbest, most emotionally charged beer pong match in the Realm. Lao was swaying like a decorative bamboo fountain. Kenshi, somehow, was managing to play with perfect posture despite being absolutely plastered.

And by the looks of the table?

Lao was getting obliterated.

Lord Liu Kang stood off to the side holding a cup, the picture of serene amusement. There was this faint little smile on his face like he was watching children play a game they invented five minutes ago and were already taking too seriously.

Your laugh cut clean through the room, bright enough to yank every male head toward you like you were the sun itself.

“Y/N!!” Lao practically screeched, stumbling toward you with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever on espresso. Before you could dodge, he scooped you up and spun you like you weighed nothing.

“Lao—! Put me down!” you giggled, clutching his shoulders as he wobbled like a drunk top.

He plopped you back onto your feet… then immediately gave you a blatant head-to-toe once-over.

“Damn, you’re hot!”

You snorted so hard you nearly choked. “Thank you, idiot.”

Kenshi approached next, moving with that slow, composed confidence of a man two sips away from being a disaster but determined to pretend he wasn’t.

“You truly are,” he said, voice low, dangerously close to shameless.

And then Liu Kang—smiling like he was absolutely above all this debauchery but secretly living for the chaos—added with a teasing lift of his brow,

“You do clean up extremely well, Y/N.”

Three different flavors of flattery, all hitting at once.

Typical.

You gave them a grin sharp enough to cut glass, tossing in a wink that hit all three men like a critical hit. Then you strutted—full hips, slow steps, deliberate tease—right into the center of the kitchen. Your heels clicked like punctuation as you did a lazy spin, the dress hugging you like a sin incarnate.

You came to a stop just in front of Liu Kang, close enough for him to catch your perfume, smile wicked and knowing.

“Thanks, guys,” you purred, turning toward the counter, “I do try.”

And try you did—judging by the way all three of them looked like they’d forgotten how to breathe.

Liu only shook his head, expression maddeningly unreadable except for the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. Kenshi subtly turned his face away, like that’d hide the fact his ears were pink. Lao? Lao outright drooled before wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve like a caveman.

You grabbed a cup, fighting the urge to laugh your ass off.

Men. Total putty.

You sipped the last of your drink, warmth starting to hum pleasantly beneath your skin. Kenshi and Lao had officially entered the “chaotic clown duo” phase of drunk competition, tossing ping-pong balls like their vision was on a three-second delay. One ball missed completely and ricocheted off the fridge. Another hit Kenshi in the shin. You and Liu both clamped hands over your mouths to stifle the snickers.

It felt good—really good—seeing them unwind like this. It didn’t happen often. You soaked in the moment, even as you mentally lit a candle for Lao’s incoming hangover.

The buzz behind your eyes deepened, your limbs feeling lighter. Liu noticed immediately, the damn observant deity he was. He leaned down, voice brushing against your ear like warm velvet.

“Careful, Y/N,” he murmured, low and gentle. “Don’t drink so much you lose awareness of where you are.”

You turned your head slightly toward him, meeting his gaze with a small, warm smile.

“I won’t,” you assured softly. “Thank you for worrying. This’ll be my last one for now. I’m grabbing water after this.”

Your eyes flicked toward the disaster duo.

“I don’t want to end up plastered like… that.”

Kenshi missed the cup again. Lao laughed so hard he almost fell backwards.

You and Liu shared a perfectly synchronized deadpan stare before dissolving into quiet laughter all over again.

You pushed off the counter with a little wobble in your heels, grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler, and twisted the cap open. Kenshi and Lao were too deep into their chaos to notice you leaving—until Lao whipped around to wave goodbye and immediately got domed in the forehead by Kenshi’s rogue ping-pong ball.

The thwack echoed like a gunshot.

Lao’s soul momentarily left his body.

You slapped your hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking as you tried so hard not to burst into full-body laughter. Kenshi muttered a slurred, horrified “bro—” while Lao swayed in place like he was buffering.

You escaped the crime scene before either man regained dignity.

Back in the heart of Johnny’s ridiculous mansion-party, you drifted through bodies, bass vibrations, and neon lights. You greeted a few Earthrealmers, dodged a very drunk actor who thought you were “that one hot chick from his dream,” and snagged another water bottle just in case.

But the longer you wandered, the more something felt… off.

You hadn’t seen Raiden.

Not once.

Not in the kitchen.

Not near the balcony.

Not being dragged into a conversation by Johnny.

Not sipping tea in a corner like the polite little thunder gentleman he was.

A tiny pout tugged at your lips.

You missed him. You always did when he wasn’t hovering somewhere in your peripheral like your favorite quiet storm cloud.

So you set your drink aside, straightened your dress, flicked your hair back like the dangerous little feline goddess you were…

And set off on a mission.

Find Raiden.

Claim Raiden.

Preferably curl up on Raiden.

The hunt began.

You’d searched every corner of Johnny’s chaos-fest of a mansion, weaving through bodies, smoke machines, and whatever questionable music he had blasting, but Raiden’s scent was nowhere. Not even a trace. Your tail would’ve been lashing if it had been out.

Annoyed, you slipped down the quieter hall and pushed open the library door. The instant it shut behind you, the noise outside dropped to a blessed, muffled hum. You exhaled in relief.

A soft flip of a turning page made your ears perk.

You looked up.

And there he was — the man you’d been hunting down for the last half hour, tucked away in an armchair, completely absorbed in a book. Your face lit up like someone had shoved a sun inside your chest.

“Raiden…!” you whined, half complaint, half delighted squeal.

He startled slightly, head snapping up. He must’ve been so into his reading that he didn’t even notice you enter until you said his name.

Raiden hadn’t even finished inhaling before you launched yourself onto his lap, knocking his book clean out of his hands. He froze like someone had hit him with a stun spell. You immediately burrowed into his neck, purring against his skin, snuggling into him like you owned the spot.

His mouth opened. Nothing came out. Just a slow blink and a very overwhelmed inhale.

When he finally managed to look down at you, you were already curled into his lap like a smug little heater, your tail-wag energy radiating even in human form. His lips twitched — barely, but enough to give him away.

“I was looking for you,” you complained, voice muffled against his collarbone. “You disappeared. I said hi to everyone but you!”

A soft chuckle escaped him, warm and shy. “Sorry… I’m not really a big fan of parties.”

You pulled back just enough to pout up at him, eyes big and dramatic. “Could’ve at least made it easier to find you.”

He laughed softly, the sound all warm honey and nerves. “I’m sorry,” he murmured again.

But then his hands—those big, gentle, perpetually careful hands—settled on your thigh.

Your bare thigh.

Everything in him short-circuited at once.

His gaze dropped before he could stop himself, and the moment he realized what you were wearing, his soul visibly left his body. His eyes went comically wide as he took in the low cut of your dress, the sinful curve of your cleavage, the way the fabric hugged every inch of you, and how the hem had ridden so far up it was practically whispering threats at his self-control.

His breath caught. Then he snapped his head up so fast you heard the air shift, inhaling sharply like he’d been caught doing something illegal.

You glanced down at yourself, realized exactly what he’d just seen, and a tiny “ohhh” clicked into place in your brain.

Yeah. Okay. That explained the way he was sitting there like he’d just been hit by lightning.

A slow, wicked little smirk curled onto your lips.

If the universe was going to hand you a flustered Raiden wrapped in a pretty bow, who were you to refuse?

You melted further into him, body sliding flush against his like you had every intention of climbing inside his skin. Your thigh brushed his hip. Your chest pressed sweetly against his chest. You purred like the most innocent little troublemaker alive, eyes drifting up to him through your lashes.

“So you’ve just been reading this whole time?” you asked, voice all soft sweetness, pretending you weren’t actively destroying every remaining brain cell in his head.

Poor man didn’t stand a chance.

Raiden actually trembled when you pressed closer, poor man going stiff as a board under you. His face was bright red, his hands frozen exactly where they rested on your thigh like he was terrified to move them an inch.

“…yes…” he mumbled shyly, eyes glued to literally anywhere but you. The ceiling was suddenly fascinating. The floor? Incredible. Your face? Absolutely forbidden.

Yeah, no. This would not do.

You gave a soft little hum and tugged at the hem of his shirt, just enough to coax his attention downward. He finally looked at you, tentative, like one wrong move would cause him to combust on the spot.

You hit him with the sweetest, most dangerous smile in your arsenal.

“Let’s dance!” you chirped, hopeful and bright, like you weren’t single-handedly frying every neuron in his head.

If his blush got any deeper, the man was going to self-ignite.

Raiden looked at your offered hand like it was a live grenade.

“…dance?” he echoed, voice cracking just a little.

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding, already rising to your feet. You smoothed your dress with a quick practiced sweep, then held your hand out to him again, expectant, unbothered, glowing.

His eyes bounced from your hand… to the door… to your face… back to your hand—as if weighing the pros and cons of dying here or dying out there. But in the end? He took your hand. Because honestly, who in their right mind could say no to you?

Your smile was instant and radiant, and Raiden looked like the warmth alone nearly melted him.

You tugged him out of the library, dragging him back into the noise and lights. The music had shifted; no more upbeat chaos. Now the air practically thrummed with sensual bass and low vocals, the kind of song that made bodies naturally move slower and closer.

You didn’t even think about it—you just started swaying your hips in time with the beat, pulling Raiden along with every roll and dip. He followed like he was tethered to you by instinct alone.

When you reached the center of the room, you caught his wrist and guided him behind you, sliding his hands onto your waist. His breath hitched audibly. You leaned back against his chest, fitting against him perfectly as the rhythm settled into your bones.

Slow. Warm. Teasing.

You swayed, and Raiden swayed with you, hands trembling slightly but holding you all the same.

Your hand slid up behind you, fingers curling at the nape of his neck. The moment you tugged, Raiden folded like wet paper, bending down to your height without a shred of resistance. Poor man didn’t stand a chance.

You turned your head just enough for your lips to brush the shell of his ear, your voice low and sweet.

“Relax…” you murmured, purring the word. “I won’t bite… not unless you ask nicely.”

Raiden shuddered—full-body, visible—his hands tightening on your waist before he caught himself. You pressed back into him, slow and sensual, guiding him into the rhythm until he couldn’t help but follow.

And step by step, sway by sway, he loosened.

His grip became surer. His breath steadied against your neck. His hips finally started matching yours, rolling with you, not behind you. His chest pressed flush to your back, warm and steady. The tension melted out of him like warm honey.

Soon enough, Raiden wasn’t just following your movements.

He was dancing with you.

Your smile softened, satisfaction warming your chest as Raiden finally let go enough to enjoy the moment with you. Gods, it only took you dragging him out here like a kidnapped Victorian maiden, but hey… results.

Your gaze drifted lazily across the dance floor. Kuai was absolutely embarrassing some poor soul with his smooth footwork, Liu Kang was sipping a drink like a serene deity judging everyone’s choices, and—

Oh.

Tomas was grinding on some girl like he’d been possessed by the spirit of a nightclub demon. You watched him dip his head, whisper something that made her clutch his shoulders, and your brows shot up in delight. You smirked to yourself, silently cheering him on. Good for him. About damn time.

You closed your eyes again, letting the bass pulse through your bones, your hips rolling into Raiden’s as naturally as breathing. You tilted your head back against his shoulder, exposing your neck without even thinking.

And Raiden—sweet, shy, hopelessly smitten Raiden—reacted on instinct.

He dipped his head, lips brushing the curve of your neck in the softest, most reverent touch. Barely there. Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed, but couldn’t stop himself either.

Your pulse fluttered.

His breath hitched against your skin.

And gods… the way he held your waist tightened, subtle but hungry.

Raiden felt you shiver, your whole body reacting to him like you were wired straight into his nerves.

“…Is this… ok?” he breathed, barely audible, terrified he’d overstepped.

You slid your hand up the back of his neck and held him there—gentle, but firm. A claim.

“This is more than ok,” you whispered, lips curled into a sultry little smile that absolutely wrecked him.

Raiden inhaled sharply, fingers spasming at your waist before finally settling in a tight, desperate grip.

And then you rolled your hips back into him.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Sinful.

The poor man almost folded in half.

He wasn’t built for this kind of stimulation. Not yet. Not when he was still half farm boy, half thunder god, all flustered mess. He could feel something coil inside him—dark, warm, possessive—rising with every drag of your body against his.

He didn’t know what to do with it.

Didn’t know if he should do anything at all.

But then Kenshi’s words hit him like a lightning strike.

“When have you ever seen her be that affectionate with any of us?”

“She prefers to be near you.”

“She likes you, idiot.”

And suddenly, something clicked in his chest. Something bold. Something reckless. Something that told him that maybe you wanted him just as intensely as he wanted you.

His hands slid down your hips, gripping tighter… and he leaned in.

He dipped his head lower, breath warm against your skin he nipped right at the base of your neck. Gentle, but claiming. The tiny, startled gasp that left you went straight to his spine. He groaned—quiet, needy—and his hands clamped firmer on your hips.

The shift was subtle at first.

Then not subtle at all.

Your slow sway turned into a deep, heady grind as he pulled you flush against him, moving with you like the two of you were meant to fit exactly like this. Your breath hitched, your knees wobbled, and then—

You mewled.

You didn’t even try to hide it.

And he definitely didn’t try to hide how it affected him.

You tilted your head further, exposing your neck like an offering and Raiden took it, lips brushing reverently along your pulse, then down, then back up again.

His voice was a low rumble behind your ear, barely holding it together.

“…I can’t stop touching you.”

“Then don’t,” you breathed, voice melting into a moan that almost short-circuited the man behind you.

His hands slid lower, fingertips brushing the hem of your dress. Testing. Asking. Begging without a single word. You parted your legs just a little, barely—but to him it was as obvious as a neon sign.

He swallowed hard.

Then one of his hands moved.

A warm, calloused palm spread over your thigh, dwarfing it entirely, fingers wrapping almost around the whole thing. He exhaled shakily against your neck, clearly trying not to combust on the spot as his thumb traced slow, careful circles over your skin.

He was trembling.

You were purring.

And the DJ could’ve changed the track to a fire alarm and neither of you would’ve noticed.

Raiden slid his hand just a bit higher—barely an inch—and you felt the air leave your lungs.

His breath ghosted your ear.

“Tell me,” he whispered, voice dark and reverent, “if you want… more.”

You whined at Raiden softly, still grinding back against him in that slow, sensual rhythm the music pulled from your body. The fog machine hissed again, smoke curling low, lights dimmed to a hazy red and purple. It was the perfect kind of cover—not quite dark, not quite visible—just enough for sin to slip by unnoticed.

No one around you seemed to be paying attention.

Everyone was too busy dancing, grinding, flirting, losing themselves in Johnny’s chaotic neon nightclub of a mansion.

You weren’t even thinking about the others… until your eyes flicked across the dance floor.

And locked right onto Kenshi.

He stood at the edge of the crowd, half lit, half shadow, a drink in hand. His expression was impossible to miss. Lips curved into a slow, dark smirk. Head angled just enough to show interest, just enough to show understanding. His eyes lowered briefly—right where Raiden’s hand was slowly sliding between your legs—then lifted back to your face.

He bit his lower lip.

Raised his drink slightly.

And nodded his head once, slowly.

Like he was telling you,

Go on. I’m watching.

Heat flared through you. A tiny, wicked smile ghosted your lips before you turned your head a fraction, pressing your cheek against Raiden’s jaw. You could feel him trembling behind you, hands so large they practically swallowed your thighs as his fingers crept higher.

“Please touch me…” you whispered, voice trembling with real need—

But your eyes never left Kenshi’s.

Raiden groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating right against your back.

“As you wish… kitten,” he breathed, voice rough in a way you’d never heard from him before.

His hand finally moved—slow, hesitant at first—trailing up your thigh like he was afraid you’d vanish if he touched you wrong. You felt every inch of that trembling climb, your breath hitching the closer he got.

Then his fingers brushed your inner thigh, sliding higher, until finally—

He froze.

Because he’d reached your soaked, bare core.

No panties. No barrier. Just you.

Raiden sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, whole body jolting behind you.

“You’re…”

His voice cracked.

“…you’re not wearing anything under this.”

You turned your head slightly, lips brushing his cheek, letting your body press closer to his.

“Surprise?” you whispered breathlessly, teasing, a purr curling under your words.

Raiden shuddered—actually shuddered—his hand flexing against your dripping heat. His fingers moved without him even realizing it, instinct overriding all that sweet-boy hesitation he usually lived in. He slid through your slick folds, and the moment he felt just how wet you were?

Raiden huffed—quiet, stunned.

He definitely hadn’t expected you to be dripping for him like this.

Not so soon.

Not so shamelessly.

Not for him.

His fingertips dragged slowly over your clit, barely-there pressure that had your whole body jolting. Then he slipped lower, tracing the soaked mess between your thighs, teasing your entrance with light dips that had you clenching around nothing.

You kept your moans low—barely audible over the music. Your dress had ridden up scandalously, exposing the soft curve of your thigh and a tempting glimpse of your bare heat every time the colored lights flashed. You could feel it. You knew exactly how exposed you were.

And Raiden?

He knew too.

You felt him swallow behind you, chest pressed tightly to your back, breath trembling as his hand moved again—slow, cautious, worshipful—gathering more of the wetness dripping down your thighs.

“…you’re soaked,” he whispered, voice breaking with disbelief and need as his fingers circled your clit again.

Every word, every breath from him hit like sparks along your spine, dragging another helpless shiver right out of you.

He continued to toy with you, dragging you right to the edge of sanity with every slow, deliberate stroke. His touch sparked along every nerve, warm and electric and maddening, but it still wasn’t enough. Not even close.

You moaned softly, parting your legs wider, giving his hand more space—an invitation he took without thinking. Raiden’s fingers dipped back inside you, teasing your clit in small, sensual circles that made your knees weaken.

You shut your eyes for a moment only to crack them open again.

Kenshi was still there.

Still leaning against the wall.

Still watching.

Eyes low-lidded, dark, and trained on where Raiden’s hand disappeared beneath your dress.

Your gaze swept down his form—and you caught the faint bulge straining against his pants. Your breath hitched. Your eyes snapped back up to his. Kenshi’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

He mouthed it deliberately.

“Good girl.”

You whimpered, your hips jerking helplessly against Raiden’s hand at the praise.

“…Raiden…” you moaned, voice thin.

He hummed in acknowledgment, thumb brushing your clit again.

“…K-Kenshi’s… watching us…”

Raiden paused just a heartbeat, looking up. His gaze locked with Kenshi’s across the dance floor. Kenshi’s brows lifted—silently asking permission, silently asking if he could keep watching.

Raiden swallowed hard, then leaned closer to your ear, voice barely audible over the bass.

“…do you want him to keep watching you?”

His fingers pinched your clit again—light, precise, devastating. Your whole body jolted, breath catching in your throat as the music throbbed around you.

You shivered.

“Are you… ok with that?” you breathed, voice trembling with want.

Raiden didn’t answer right away. He just felt you—how wet you were, how your thighs trembled around his hand, how your back pressed tighter against him like you were begging him to swallow you whole. His silence made your stomach drop… until he spoke, voice low and dark against your ear.

“I don’t mind,” he murmured. “If you want, we could leave.”

His fingers stroked you slowly, deliberately.

“Or… we could give him a show.”

You bit your lip hard, heat blooming up your neck.

Your eyes flicked back to Kenshi.

Still watching.

Still smirking.

His bulge even more obvious now, his chest rising just a little faster.

Your gaze dragged down deliberately, taking in every inch of the strain under his belt. Kenshi’s jaw flexed—just the smallest twitch—but you saw it. Felt the effect you had on him.

Your thighs pressed together helplessly, trapping Raiden’s hand between them as you inhaled sharply.

“…please continue…” you whispered, barely audible.

Raiden groaned behind you, the sound vibrating into your spine as his fingers plunged back between your legs—slow, deep, and sinful—with Kenshi watching every second.

Raiden slid his hands down your thighs and eased them apart, slow and deliberate, like he wanted Kenshi to see exactly how boldly you were letting him touch you. His fingers dipped between your legs again, working you open with an obscene confidence that made your breath leave your body in one shaking exhale.

Your head fell back onto his shoulder, mouth parting on a silent cry you couldn’t hold in.

Gods, he had you melting.

His other hand dragged up your torso, stopping at the plunge of your dress. He curled his fingers into the neckline and tugged—just enough for the fabric to slip, revealing the soft swell of your chest and the faintest hint of your pretty nipples. The cool air hit your skin, mixing with the heat of his touch, and your breathing stuttered into something downright sinful.

Raiden’s mouth pressed to your neck… then lower… then higher again. Soft kisses, slow drags of his lips, like he was memorizing the shape of you. Your whole body trembled, every nerve tightening toward him.

Your hips twitched helplessly, pressing into his hand.

A quiet, needy gasp slipped out of you.

Across the room, Kenshi’s stance shifted—subtle but unmistakable. His eyes were locked on where Raiden held you, darkened, hungry, absolutely devouring the sight.

Raiden’s teeth grazed your neck again, just enough to make your breath hitch. The sound you let slip—quiet, needy—went straight to his head. His lips curved against your skin.

“Doing so well for us, kitten,” he murmured, voice roughened with something dark and reverent. “Putting on such a good show for Kenshi… aren’t you?”

Your whole body reacted before your mind could catch up—your core tightened around his fingers so sharply that Raiden groaned in approval, the vibration sinking deliciously into your skin.

He picked up the pace.

Slow, teasing strokes turned into firm, deliberate ones, the kind that made your knees threaten to give out if his arm at your waist wasn’t holding you upright. The beat of the party throbbed around you, but all you could hear was the slick sound of his fingers working you open and the deep, steady breath he took against your throat.

His other hand slipped beneath your dress, palm warm against your bare skin before he cupped your breast. His thumb brushed over the hardened peak, slow circle, then a soft squeeze that pulled a louder sound out of you than you meant to let happen.

“R–Raiden… ahh—”

Your voice cracked in your throat.

He shushed you gently, voice low and soothing even as his fingers kept pushing you closer to the edge.

“Easy… easy, kitten,” he whispered, kissing the shell of your ear. “You don’t want everyone hearing how sweet you sound for us… do you?”

Across the room, Kenshi swore under his breath—low, sharp, like the sight of you physically hurt him.

Gods, you were a vision.

Even in the dim light he could see everything: the thin sheen of sweat gathering at your collarbone, the swell of your chest barely contained by the dress, your nipples peeking through the fabric like they were begging for attention. Raiden’s hand moved beneath your hem and Kenshi could see the wet shine spreading down your thighs, every curl of Raiden’s fingers leaving you dripping onto his knuckles.

He could practically feel how tightly you must’ve been clenching—your body trembling, breath broken, Raiden whispering into your throat while you came apart inch by inch.

Kenshi bit his lip hard.

One hand stayed wrapped around his drink. The other slid down, slow and helpless, pressing the heel of his palm against the throbbing bulge straining in his pants.

He cursed again—quiet but filthy—because you looked like temptation incarnate… and Raiden was already sinking into every part of you.

A darker part of him wanted to cross the room right then. To kneel between your legs while Raiden held you open. To hear you fall apart—but for both of them this time.

For now, he stayed where he was, jaw tight, breath uneven, eyes devouring every second of the scene you two were giving him.

And god help him… he hoped you kept going.

Raiden’s gaze drifted across the dance floor—cutting through the fog and lights—until it landed squarely on Kenshi.

Kenshi felt it immediately.

A pull.

A warning.

An invitation.

He lifted an eyebrow, silently asking what Raiden wanted.

Raiden’s only answer was a slow, dark smirk, the kind Kenshi had never seen on his usually gentle friend.

Then Raiden withdrew his fingers from between your legs. Kenshi couldn’t hear anything—there was too much noise, too much bass, too much chaos for his senses to pick out the small details—but he saw the way your body twitched. He saw your hand clutch at Raiden’s arm. He saw your lips part in a breathless shape he recognized all too well.

Raiden murmured something against your ear and the way you softened under him told enough.

Then, with deliberate slowness, Raiden slid his hand back between your thighs.

He didn’t look at you.

He didn’t look at the dance floor.

He kept his eyes locked on Kenshi.

And then he tipped your hips forward just enough, using his fingers to spread you open, your slick glistening in the colored lights. Kenshi bit back a groan—every muscle in his body going tight. You were clenching visibly, fluttering, wet to the point of dripping.

Kenshi felt his jaw go slack. His breath caught in his throat. Heat punched low in his stomach, sharp and electric.

He wasn’t hearing a damn thing—just watching.

Watching you.

Watching Raiden’s hand.

Watching a scene he’d only allowed himself to imagine in the darkest corners of his mind.

Raiden cocked his head at him.

A small movement.

A simple gesture.

But the meaning slammed into Kenshi like a physical hit.

Come here.

Kenshi grunted low in his throat at the silent offer, the sound barely audible under the music but heavy with meaning.

He didn’t move at first. Just stood there, shoulders tense, leaning against the wall as his eyes dragged back down to your soaked, visibly clenching cunt… then up to Raiden again.

A beat.

A breath.

A decision.

He pushed off the wall slowly, rolling his shoulders back. He lifted his drink, downed the rest in one smooth swallow, and set the empty cup onto a nearby table without breaking eye contact.

Each step he took toward you two was deliberate, unhurried, like he was savoring the moment.

Just as he neared, Raiden slid his fingers back inside you with purpose. Two fingers, deep, firm, curling just the way he knew made your knees weaken.

You gasped sharply, your body jolting.

And this time Kenshi heard it.

A small, broken mewl.

Barely a sound in all the noise, but he caught it.

He felt it.

And his pupils blew wide in response.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Your eyes had stayed shut, lost in the shiver of Raiden’s fingers working you open again. You were clinging to his wrist, silently begging for more, hips rolling helplessly. You were so close you could barely think, every nerve tightening like a drawn bowstring.

He pushed his fingers back into you, slow but deep, and your entire body lit up.

Everything buzzed. Your breath stuttered.

You were right there. Right on the ledge.

And then—

A presence.

Warm. Solid. Right in front of you.

Before you could even register who it was, before your lashes even parted—

A voice dipped low into your ear, velvety and sinful:

“That’s my good girl… go on. Cum all over his fingers.”

You gasped so hard your whole body jerked.

Your eyes snapped open at the sound of Kenshi’s voice—that deep, restrained rumble knocking the last thread of control clean out of you.

Your spine arched.

Your knees shook.

And you snapped—clenching down violently around Raiden’s fingers as your orgasm tore through you, hot and overwhelming and entirely out of your control.

Kenshi’s breath ghosted your cheek.

Raiden groaned quietly behind you, feeling you squeeze around him like you were trying to pull him in. You were still fluttering around his fingers, overstimulated and trembling, and it was taking everything in him not to lose whatever was left of his composure.

Kenshi dipped his head and pressed a slow, heated kiss to the swell of your breast, lips dragging upward just enough to make your back arch again. His hand steadied your hip as Raiden’s fingers kept working you—slow, deliberate pumps that made your legs threaten to give out. The two of them were practically holding you upright.

“Kenshi…! Nghh… Raiden…”

Your voice was ruined, soft and pleading and wrecked.

Both men groaned at the sound, the kind of raw sound that came from the chest, from instinct, from want.

Kenshi tore his mouth from your skin just long enough to speak, his breath brushing your exposed chest.

“We should move this somewhere else,” he muttered, voice rough and vibrating against you. His eyes lifted, meeting Raiden’s over your shoulder. “It’s a miracle you two haven’t been caught already.”

Raiden hummed his agreement, low and strained, still buried in your neck.

His fingers slid out of you slowly—too slowly—making you whine and clutch at his arm.

“We’re not stopping,” Raiden murmured, his voice dangerously gentle. “Just changing rooms.”

Kenshi smirked, thumb brushing your lower lip as if wiping a droplet of honey.

“Come on, kitten,” he breathed. “Let’s go before we give the whole party a show.”

Raiden’s tongue dragged slowly along his fingers, savoring you like he was tasting something forbidden and finally letting himself indulge. His eyes fluttered half-lidded, a deep groan rumbling up from his chest at the taste.

You shivered hard.

Kenshi’s nostrils flared, jaw tightening as he watched Raiden lick his fingers clean without an ounce of shame.

Both men took their time fixing you up—almost tenderly. Kenshi smoothed your dress down over your hips, making sure the fabric wasn’t bunched. Raiden tugged the neckline back into place, thumbs brushing the edge of the dress where your breasts had nearly spilled out moments ago.

You felt their hands linger.

Dark eyes on you.

Hunger simmering beneath the surface.

Kenshi leaned in first, voice low enough that only you and Raiden could hear it.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, fingers grazing your waist. “Before I end up pinning you right here.”

Raiden’s eyes flicked to yours, slow and warm and heated.

“We won’t make it far if you keep looking at us like that,” he added, voice velvet-soft with warning and promise all at once.

And the three of you started to move—together.

Kuai practically materialized out of nowhere, blocking the hallway like a worried older brother. His eyes flicked over you—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, dress slightly rumpled—and his brows shot up in immediate concern.

“Y/N… are you alright?” he asked, voice dipping low.

You nodded a little too quickly, still breathless, still dazed.

Kenshi stepped forward before you could get another word out—calm, collected, lying through his teeth with zero hesitation.

“She’s drunk,” he said smoothly. “We’re taking her to rest in one of the rooms before she does something reckless.”

Given your current state, the story was… painfully believable.

Kuai blinked, then exhaled in relief. “Good. I’ll let the others know. Make sure she gets water.”

“Of course,” Raiden replied politely, even though his hand was already cupped around your waist, guiding you away.

Kuai stepped aside.

And just like that, the three of you slipped down the hall—swift, silent, determined.

Before the door even clicked shut, Kenshi had already swept you into his arms—your legs instinctively locking around his waist as if your body remembered him better than your mind. His grip tightened under your thighs, pulling you flush against him.

And gods… you felt everything.

His bulge pressed right against your bare core, grinding against your clit with every breath either of you took. The friction ripped a soft gasp from your throat, and Kenshi choked out a groan that sounded like he’d been holding it in all night.

Your slick smeared hot and shameless across the front of his pants, darkening the fabric. He hissed at the sensation, muscles flexing beneath your hands.

You clung to him, panting, thighs tightening around him as if trying to pull him even closer.

Raiden stood a few feet away at first… just watching.

The calm, gentle farm boy gone—replaced by something darker, something hungry. His chest rose and fell a little too fast, eyes fixed on where Kenshi held you pinned against him.

Slowly, deliberately, Raiden stepped behind you. You felt the warmth of him first—something electric in the air, like the quiet before a storm breaks.

He didn’t touch you.

Not yet.

He just stood behind you, close enough that your back brushed his chest when you breathed.

His presence alone made your spine straighten, made goosebumps erupt across your skin. His breath ghosted the back of your neck, and you swore your knees would’ve buckled if Kenshi wasn’t holding you up.

Kenshi’s laugh wasn’t really a laugh—more like a low, dark ripple of approval—right before he pressed you against Raiden, forcing him back against the wall. The movement sent a jolt through you, your body caught between them, Raiden’s quiet groan vibrating against your spine as your backside brushed him in a way that made all three of you tense.

You let out a helpless little sound, high in your throat. Being pressed between them like that, surrounded by their heat and strength, made your pulse stutter.

Strong hands slid under you, loosening your legs from around Kenshi’s waist only to catch you. Raiden's grip was firmer—possessive even—as he lifted you effortlessly. Your thighs were spread in his hold, your back pressed to his chest, your breath catching at the sudden shift in power.

Kenshi stepped away just enough to look… and gods, did he look.

His gaze dragged over you slowly, his chest rising with a hungry breath he didn’t bother hiding. In the low light he looked carved from shadow, all sharp jaw and dark eyes, the kind of man who could devour something with a glance alone.

“Look at you…” he murmured, voice gravel-soft, reverent and sinful at the same time.

Raiden shifted behind you, his breath brushing your ear as he held you wide and open for Kenshi’s inspection, his own heartbeat thudding hard against your back.

You were trembling, caught between them, caught by them.

Kenshi reached up, sliding his thumb along your thigh—slow, deliberate—testing how much you could take.

“Perfect like this,” he said softly. “Held by him… and looked at by me.”

Raiden let out this shaky little laugh behind you, the sound puffing warm against your neck as his hands urged your thighs open just a little more.

“You should… try her,” he breathed, voice low and ragged. “She’s unbelievable.”

The words alone made your pulse skip.

Kenshi’s expression shifted instantly—like someone had just handed him permission for something he’d been hungry for all night. That wicked curve pulled at his mouth as he dropped smoothly to his knees in front of you.

You whimpered—soft, instinctive—because the sight of him looking up at you from that angle did something devastating to your nerves.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, smirking up at you, “I’ll be gentle… until you ask otherwise.”

Then he leaned in.

His mouth met you with one slow, deliberate drag—warm, firm, savoring you like he’d wanted this for far too long. Your whole body jerked in Raiden’s hold, a strangled sound tearing from your throat before you could stop it.

Raiden tightened his arms around you, breathing your name like a prayer as heat washed through you in a dizzying wave.

Kenshi groaned—deep, appreciative—his hands sliding along your waist as he tasted you again, slower this time, purposeful in a way that made your knees shake even though you weren’t standing.

His voice dropped into something torn and hungry, practically vibrating against you.

“…fuck… you taste unreal, kitten.”

Your breath stuttered, head tipping back against Raiden’s shoulder as his arms caged you in place. You couldn’t move—couldn’t even try—not when Kenshi was working into you with that kind of focus, that kind of devotion, like he was trying to memorize every one of your reactions from the inside out.

“K-Kenshi—” your voice cracked, hips twitching helplessly in Raiden’s grip.

Raiden groaned behind you, because he could feel everything—every shiver, every stutter, every sharp little jolt that went through you the second Kenshi pressed in deeper, exploring you with a slow, deliberate insistence that bordered on obscene.

Your legs spasmed, thighs shaking, and Raiden tightened his hold.

“She’s losing it,” he murmured against your ear, voice thick. “Look at her…”

Kenshi did.

He looked up at you while he kept moving exactly how you needed—eyes dark, mouth wet, expression already wrecked like the taste of you had pushed him halfway over the edge.

“Good,” he murmured, dragging his lips against you in a way that made your whole body jolt. “I want you to come apart for us.”

Raiden’s grip flexed.

You whimpered.

And Kenshi dove back in with intent.

And that’s exactly how you came apart for the second time. Kenshi’s tongue pushed into you with that sharp, hungry determination, dragging slow circles around your clit before flicking it with just enough pressure to make your whole body tighten. He alternated between dipping inside you and teasing the bundle of nerves until you were trembling uncontrollably in Raiden’s arms.

Your thighs kept twitching against Raiden’s grip, the tension coiling so tight you could barely breathe. The moment your back arched, Raiden laughed breathlessly against your shoulder.

“She’s gonna cum…” he chuckled, low and ruined.

And Kenshi didn’t stop. He held your hips steady, eyes locked on your face as you finally broke—coming apart on his tongue, shaking, clenching, helpless. He watched every second, licking up your release slowly, deliberately, like he planned to memorize the taste.

Kenshi rose slowly, face slick with your release, breathing heavier than before. He slid his hands under your hips to take you back from Raiden’s hold, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. You whimpered softly as he set you down on the bed, your body still twitching in little aftershocks, a weak mewl escaping you every time your thighs brushed together.

Behind him, Raiden had already shed his top and pants, left only in his underwear—the outline of him straining sharp and obvious against the fabric. His chest rose and fell in a shaky rhythm, eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you on the sheets.

Kenshi stepped back to undress as well, fingers moving with a practiced slowness, watching Raiden with undisguised interest.

Before he could finish, Raiden crawled up the bed and settled between your legs. His arms hooked under your thighs, pulling you forward until your heat met his mouth, and he started gently cleaning you with slow, reverent strokes. The unexpected sensation jolted through you like lightning, your whole body jerking in his hold, a broken sound leaving your throat.

Kenshi paused mid-undress, watching the way Raiden’s shoulders flexed, watching the way you writhed.

When Raiden finally pulled back from between your legs, he didn’t leave you cold for a second. He trailed slow, lingering kisses up the inside of your thigh… your hip… your stomach… each one sending another shiver crawling up your spine.

He paused right beneath your breast, breath warm against your skin. Then he closed his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking gently before letting his tongue flick against the stiff peak. His hand came up to cup the other breast, thumb circling lazily, teasingly, as if he wanted to savor the way you trembled beneath him.

You gasped sharply when he bit down—gentle, controlled, but enough to send your back arching off the mattress, chest pressing eagerly into his face. Raiden groaned against your skin, the sound low and barely restrained, like your reaction alone was unraveling him.

You whined into Raiden’s mouth, fingers twisting into his soft hair, trying to pull him closer even though he already felt fused to your skin. His mouth tightened around you, hungry, and the way his hand rolled and tugged at your other peak made your back arch helplessly. Every pull of his fingers sent sparks racing along your nerves, your hips reacting before you could think—and the second your body dragged against the strain in his underwear, Raiden let out a sound that was nothing short of desperate.

That was all the warning you got before he pulled back just long enough to rip your dress clean off your body, the fabric hitting the floor in a careless heap.

Behind you, Kenshi had finished undressing down to a single thin layer, his breath already uneven. His stance was rigid discipline wrapped around pure hunger, one hand braced on the dresser beside him while the other slid beneath the waistband of his boxers—just enough to ease the pressure, not enough to break his last bit of control.

His eyes never left you.

Raiden didn’t even look back; he could feel Kenshi watching, could feel the heat in the room spike. His hands came back to you—firm on your waist, guiding, possessive, like he needed you right where you were and wasn’t planning on letting you move an inch.

You felt both of their attention like heat against your skin, two different kinds of hunger wrapping around you, drawing you in tighter and tighter until the air itself felt too thick to breathe.

Kenshi moved onto the bed beside you, the weight shift pulling you slightly toward him. His hand slid up your arm first, slow and warm, before he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. He tasted your skin there, lips brushing once… then again… trailing upward until he reached the swell of your chest.

His breath fanned over the peak Raiden had been teasing moments before. Kenshi paused there, lips hovering—almost like he was asking. Then he closed his mouth around you, soft at first, catching the sensitive skin between his lips before drawing a deeper pull that made your hips jerk.

Your hand flew to his hair, threading into the dark strands and tugging. Kenshi groaned at the pull—low and rough—and the vibration against your chest sent a shiver clean through you. He suckled again, slower this time, tongue sweeping over you with deliberate intent while his other hand braced against your ribs to steady you.

Raiden knelt between your open legs, watching every breathless twitch with dark, reverent eyes. He’d stripped down to nothing but sheer restraint, his body flushed as he slid his hands up your thighs, spreading them wider for him. His thumbs stroked along your inner thighs before he positioned himself at your entrance, the heat of him brushing where you were already soaked and throbbing.

He pressed in slow—agonizingly slow.

Your breath hitched, your chest arching into Kenshi’s mouth. Kenshi groaned around you, tightening his lips, drawing your nipple deeper into his mouth while Raiden eased forward another inch, his breath catching hard as your body clenched around him.

“Easy,” Kenshi murmured against your skin, though he was the one shaking from the way you tugged his hair.

Raiden’s fingers dug into your thighs, his control hanging by a thread as he sank deeper with careful, torturous patience. Every inch made your back lift off the sheets, made Kenshi’s mouth latch harder onto your chest, hungry for every little sound you made.

Then Kenshi’s hand moved.

He slid it down your stomach—slow, deliberate—until his fingertips reached the heat between your legs, right where Raiden was filling you so slowly it hurt. Kenshi let his knuckles brush Raiden’s lower stomach as his fingers slipped lower, finding your clit with ease.

The first circle was light. Testing.

You jolted, a choked sound catching in your throat.

Kenshi hummed in approval, mouth still wrapped around your breast as he stroked you again—firmer this time, in rhythm with the slow push of Raiden’s hips.

Your fingers yanked Kenshi’s hair. Kenshi groaned into your chest at the pull. Raiden groaned from the way you clenched around him.

The slow, careful push of his hips turned into something firmer… deeper… the kind of thrust that stole the air out of your lungs and made your back lift helplessly off the sheets. Each movement rocked you just enough to make your body bounce lightly beneath them—your breath coming out in soft, stuttered gasps.

Kenshi felt it too.

His fingers on your clit sped up instinctively, matching Raiden’s new tempo with smooth, purposeful circles that made your thighs twitch around Raiden’s waist. Kenshi’s mouth stayed latched to your breast, groaning low when the movement of your body tugged him along.

You finally let go of his hair, sliding your hand down the line of his stomach—bare skin tightening under your touch—until your fingers reached the waistband of his boxers. Kenshi froze for a half-second, a quiet gasp breaking against your chest when your hand slipped inside.

He was already pulsing hard in your palm.

And when you wrapped your fingers around his length and stroked him—slow, deliberate—Kenshi’s head dropped against your breast entirely, teeth grazing the swell as a raw groan tore from him.

“F…fuck…” he breathed against your skin, his grip on your thigh tightening.

Raiden’s eyes snapped to where your hand worked Kenshi, his own breath faltering. The sight—your fingers wrapped around Kenshi’s cock, Kenshi’s mouth at your chest, Kenshi panting helplessly into you—made Raiden’s hips jerk forward hard, burying himself deep inside you.

Your body arched violently at the push, a sharp cry escaping you.

Raiden groaned, the sound deep and guttural.

He leaned forward, bracing one hand beside your head, thrusting harder now—slow but powerful, each movement pressing so deep you felt him in your spine.

Kenshi’s hips bucked into your hand instinctively, a quiet curse slipping out between his teeth as he lifted his head just enough to look down at you.

“You’re… unbelievable,” Kenshi rasped, breath shaking as you stroked him.

Raiden’s gaze dragged over both of you—your flushed chest, Kenshi’s lips on your skin, your hand buried in Kenshi’s boxers—and his control snapped another inch.

You whined—high, needy, wrecked—at both of them.

Kenshi felt it first, the desperate tremble in your hand. He pulled back just enough for you to get a good grip on his waistband, and the second you tugged, he helped you—shoving his boxers down his thighs and kicking them off entirely.

Now he was bare for you.

And the moment your hand wrapped around his exposed length, Kenshi groaned—a low, broken sound—thrusting into your fist like he couldn’t stop himself. Every squeeze, every upward stroke had his breath hitching against your skin.

“H…haah—Y/N…” he moaned, your name cracking out of him as his hips bucked into your palm, “just like that…”

His hand found your clit again, circling it with trembling precision, sliding lower—bold enough to trace the sides of your slit. He could feel how wide and tight you were stretched around Raiden, feel where their bodies met.

Raiden choked on a groan, hips stuttering.

He felt Kenshi’s fingertips brushing against his length each time he thrust inside you—an electric shock of heat between the three of you.

“Gods…” Raiden breathed, voice shuddering as he buried himself deeper.

Before you could even gasp, Kenshi’s mouth crashed against yours.

His lips swallowed your moans greedily, tasting the smear of your lipstick on his tongue. He kissed you like he was starving—slow and deep, breath shaking each time Raiden thrust into you.

Your lipstick smeared across Kenshi’s mouth, staining him in that sinful red as you clung to both of them—one hand fisting Kenshi’s cock, Kenshi’s fingers stroking your clit, Raiden driving into your soaked core until your whole body trembled.

Raiden groaned, a deep, fractured sound torn straight from his chest.

He was right in front of you, knees on the mattress, hips snug between your thighs as he thrust into you—slow, deep, devastating. And he couldn’t drag his gaze away from the scene unfolding inches from him.

You and Kenshi, bodies pressed together at your side, kissing like you’d been starving for each other.

Kenshi’s lips smeared with your red lipstick, looking branded.

Your hand wrapped around his length, stroking slow and tight.

Kenshi groaning into your mouth every time your fist twisted up his shaft.

And Kenshi’s free hand… gods, the way it kept brushing against Raiden’s cock each time he circled your clit—accidental but intimate enough to make Raiden’s breath hitch each time.

It was driving him feral.

Raiden leaned forward, thrusting deeper, your body lifting slightly with each roll of his hips. He was barely holding himself together, eyes locked on your face, your lips, the way Kenshi devoured you.

He reached forward and wrapped his hand around yours.

Large, warm, steady.

He guided the stroke up Kenshi’s cock, your joined hands sliding from base to tip in perfect rhythm. Kenshi’s hips instantly bucked into the touch.

“H–holy—fuck…” Kenshi gasped against your lips, voice breaking.

His hand shook against your clit, circles stuttering as pleasure hit him.

Raiden groaned, forehead nearly resting against yours, his voice ragged:

“Just like that… gods, you look perfect like this…”

He dragged his thumb over your knuckles as he helped you stroke Kenshi harder, deeper. Kenshi moaned into your mouth—raw, helpless, needy—while Raiden’s thrusts grew slower but heavier, each one forcing a breathy sound from you.

Raiden choked on a sound that was half-moan, half-plea, his head tipping back for a moment as if the sight of you both was physically overwhelming. His fingers tightened around yours—just enough to force your hand to clamp harder around Kenshi’s cock.

Kenshi’s breath punched out of him.

Raiden’s voice came out ruined.

“You two… gods—you’re going to make me lose it…”

Kenshi growled right against your mouth, hips jerking helplessly into your joined hands.

“You’re going to make me lose it,” he panted, breath hot on your lips. “You both keep—ahh—squeezing me like that—”

Your body tightened instinctively around Raiden, and at the same time he and you tightened your grip on Kenshi again—slow, deliberate, merciless.

Kenshi broke.

“A-ah—fuck!” he groaned, voice cracking, hips bucking up into your fist like he couldn’t stop himself. His hand faltered on your clit, trembling, fingers slipping as he moaned through his teeth.

Raiden shuddered violently at the sound, thrusting deeper, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he gasped:

“Keep doing that… you sound—both of you—sound so…”

His voice dissolved into another strangled noise, hips rolling harder into you.

Kenshi broke first.

A sharp, desperate whine ripped from his throat—one so unguarded that his own eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe it escaped him. His cheeks flushed a deep shade, the red traveling all the way down his neck as his cock twitched violently in your joined hands.

“I’m… gonna cum…” he breathed, small and wrecked, the words shaking as badly as his thighs.

You leaned in and bit his lip, just gentle enough to tease, just rough enough to push him over. Kenshi groaned into your mouth, shoulders tensing under your touch.

“Go on,” you whispered, voice thick and breathless. “Cum for us.”

Raiden looked up through his lashes—hungry, undone—right as he drove your hands down his shaft in a firm, perfect stroke. His thumb swept over Kenshi’s tip, slow and deliberate.

Kenshi shattered.

His moan cracked—broken, beautiful—as hot release spilled over both your hands. His hips jerked, uncontrolled, forcing more out, chasing it even as overstimulation hit him like a wave.

“F—fuck… you both… nghhh—!” he whined, the sound high and ruined, chest heaving, cock still twitching in your grip.

Raiden grunted at the sight, thrusts stuttering inside you.

The moment Kenshi came apart, voice cracking and thighs trembling, something in you broke open. Your back bowed sharply off the bed, a raw moan ripping from your throat as pleasure surged through every nerve. Your legs spasmed around Raiden’s hips, squeezing him so tight he choked on his own breath.

Raiden gasped—actually gasped—as you pulsed around him.

“Y/N—” he groaned, the sound thick and dizzy. Your fluttering walls kept milking him with every stutter of your hips, dragging him straight to the edge.

Kenshi was still spilling over your joined hands, his cock twitching helplessly. The sight of it—his release dripping between your fingers, your thighs trembling, your lips parted around a silent cry—pushed Raiden straight past the point of control.

He jerked back with a strangled groan, unable to stay buried inside you or he’d finish too deep.

“—fuck—!”

His release spilled hot across your stomach, painting you in thick stripes. A sharp second jet hit your thigh… and then the third splashed across Kenshi’s lower abdomen, startling the swordsman out of the daze of his own orgasm.

Kenshi froze.

Raiden froze.

You froze—still trembling, breathing like you’d sprinted a mile.

For a beat, the only sound in the room was all three of you panting.

Kenshi blinked once, looked down at the warm white streak across his hipbone…

…and huffed a breathless, wrecked laugh.

Raiden’s face went crimson.

“…ah—sorry—” he murmured, mortified, chest still heaving.

Kenshi licked his lips slowly, eyes dragging up Raiden’s body.

“Don’t be,” he rasped.

You were still trying to remember how to breathe.

Raiden gently released your hand, fingers slipping away from Kenshi’s spent length. Your grip loosened too, and Kenshi’s cock fell back against his stomach with a soft, sticky thud, giving one last pathetic twitch. He lay there on his elbows, chest rising and falling, eyes glued to you.

To the mess.

His mess.

Raiden’s mess.

All of it glistening across your stomach, your thighs, the curve of your hip.

Raiden wasn’t doing any better.

He was braced over you, chest still heaving, his softening length resting heavy and warm on your pelvis, weak little spurts still drooling from the tip. His pupils were blown wide, hunger and disbelief tangled together, gaze dragging over every streak he’d painted onto your skin.

And then—because you’re cruel, and because they deserve it—you purred.

Loudly.

“Mmm… I don’t think we’re done here,” you cooed, lashes fluttering like you hadn’t just broken both of them in half.

Two men. Two reactions. One shared panic.

They both snapped their heads toward you so fast you swore you felt a breeze. Kenshi actually blinked—slowly, like his brain had blue-screened. Raiden’s mouth fell open a little, his exhausted cock giving one sad, defeated twitch against your belly.

How were you not done?

You smiled at them sweetly, as if you hadn’t just sent them to the spirit realm and back.

And both of them… oh, they looked terrified.

Terrified in a good way.

Both men got to experience, for the very first time, what it truly means to bed a pent-up cat shifter.

And let them tell you—when they eventually regained the ability to form words—it is not a casual stroll through cherry blossoms. It’s a survival trial. A spiritual pilgrimage. A full-body exorcism where all the demons leave through your soul and your dick at the same time.

By the time you were finally satisfied, Raiden and Kenshi were sprawled out like corpses after a natural disaster, staring at the ceiling with the empty, glassy-eyed expression of men who had seen things.

Their cocks were sore.

Their balls were emptier than the Sahara.

Their spirits had ascended, descended, and filed a workplace harassment report.

Still?

Worth it.

It was worth every moment of blissful agony, because somewhere amid the tangled limbs and exhausted groaning, Raiden finally let the truth slip—he confessed his feelings for you. You accepted without hesitation, warming his chest with that smile he’d come to crave.

Then Kenshi, still catching his breath, admitted that he too harbored a quiet crush… one he never voiced out of respect for Raiden. He said it simply, without pressure, just truth between friends and the woman they both adored.

And somehow, against all odds and common sense, the three of you realized a shared conclusion:

Maybe this could work.

Maybe it didn’t have to be complicated.

Maybe a poly relationship wasn’t such a bad idea… especially if the sex stayed that good.

Your face heated instantly, and you squirmed in your spot, feeling cornered in the softest way possible.

“A-ah, well… I’m not sure,” you admitted quietly. “I’m a bit afraid of motorcycles, I must admit.”

Tomas gasped dramatically, then pouted, nudging your shoulder with his like an overgrown puppy.

“You don’t need to be,” he said, voice warm and coaxing. “Ride with one of us, we’ll keep you safe. Always.”

The sincerity in his tone only made your cheeks hotter.

You hummed noncommittally.

“I’ll… think about it, okay?” you murmured.

Under the table, Kuai nudged your leg gently to get your attention. His voice softened.

“No pressure,” he said. “We understand if you don’t want to. Truly. But it would also be our honor to have you ride with one of us.”

Your chest tightened at how sweet that sounded.

“You’re sweet,” you told him, smiling warmly. “I’ll think about it.”

Their expressions shifted in their own ways:

Tomas lit up immediately.

Kuai smiled quietly, satisfied.

And Bi-Han’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer than the others—undeniably invested.

Just as you were about to reach for a pastry tray, a deep voice cut through the air.

“You might feel the most comfortable on my bike.”

Bi-Han spoke so calmly, it took you a second to realize he was talking to you. “It’s wider than either of theirs.”

Tomas immediately let out a dramatic groan, dropping his head onto the table as if he’d been personally betrayed.

“Bro, seriously? I was gonna offer first!” he complained, practically leaning across the table at Bi-Han.

Kuai hid his laugh behind his hand, but you could tell he agreed with the logic. Both Tomas and Kuai had sleek, narrow sports bikes—beautiful, fast… and terrifying for a beginner. The idea of holding on for dear life while either of them zipped down the road made your stomach twist.

Bi-Han’s bike, on the other hand, still a sports model, but with a broader body and more stable frame.

More space.

More balance.

More room to hold on without feeling like you were going to fly off with one wrong bump.

He’d thought about that.

About you being nervous.

About what would make you feel secure.

Your heartbeat stuttered.

Tomas continued whining in the background, gesturing wildly at his brothers.

“Man, that’s not fair! I would go slow for them! I swear!”

Kuai raised a brow. “Since when do you ever go slow on a bike?”

Tomas pointed at him in betrayal. “Why would you expose me like that?”

Their bickering faded slightly as your attention drifted back to Bi-Han.

He wasn’t looking at them.

He wasn’t even looking at you fully.

Just sipping his tea, gaze lowered, expression unreadable—except for the slightest tilt of his head, as if waiting to see if you understood what he was offering.

Not a ride.

Safety.

And… maybe something more.

You swallowed softly.

“O-oh,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady. “Well… that’s good to know.”

Bi-Han finally lifted his gaze to you.

“Whoever you decide,” he said, low and even, “you won’t fall.”

The words shouldn’t have made your heart jump.

But they did.

You made up your mind faster than you expected.

You turned toward Bi-Han, heart beating a little too fast, voice coming out softer than you meant it to.

“Well… if you promise, then… I’m willing to try. T-Today.”

All three of them froze.

Then—

Tomas’s grin split across his face like a firework.

Kuai’s lips curved upward, warm and proud.

Both of them nearly burst into cheers until you immediately shushed them with a stern look.

“Behave,” you warned, pointing a finger at them.

They straightened instantly, clearing their throats like chastised schoolboys.

But Bi-Han…

He didn’t cheer.

He didn’t flinch.

He just turned his head fully toward you, really looking at you.

A small smile—the smallest you’d ever seen from him—pulled at the corner of his lips.

“I’ve got you,” he said quietly. “Don’t worry. Trust me.”

Something inside you loosened at the certainty in his tone.

“I do,” you replied—simple, sincere, without hesitation.

The shop felt strangely warm for a moment, all three of them watching you with different flavors of affection.

You cleared your throat and snapped yourself back to reality.

“Well,” you said, clapping your hands together, “let me close up.”

You moved through your end-of-day routine with a strange flutter in your chest—locking displays, wiping down counters, switching off ovens. The brothers stayed seated, chatting among themselves, but their excitement buzzed around the room like static.

And every time you glanced toward the booth…

Bi-Han was already watching you.

Steady.

Composed.

As if ready to keep that promise the moment you were done.

The boys were already outside when you finally stepped out of your shop, the metal shutter clicking into place as you locked everything up for the night.

Their bikes were lined up along the curb, engines purring low in the cool evening air.

Tomas talked nonstop, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a kid who just got told he could go to the amusement park. The excitement of having you ride with them practically radiated off him.

Kuai stood beside his own bike, arms crossed, his smile calm but unmistakably pleased. He didn’t bounce like Tomas, but the pride in his posture said everything.

Bi-Han sat on his bike, brown hair catching the streetlight as he scrolled idly through his phone. He didn’t look impatient—just settled, composed, waiting for you to appear like he expected you to the whole time.

The second you stepped off the curb, Tomas practically launched himself at you.

“Here, here—give me your stuff,” he insisted, snatching your bag and anything else you were carrying with zero hesitation.

You laughed at him as he stuffed your belongings into his backpack.

“Tomas, if you lose any of my things—”

He immediately slapped a hand over his heart, eyes wide as he pretended to tremble.

“Please, don’t curse me like that,” he gasped dramatically. “I’ll guard it all with my life.”

“Uh-huh. You better,” you warned with a playful glare.

Still snickering, Tomas secured the backpack on his back and motioned for you to follow him with both hands.

“Come on! Your chariot awaits!”

He practically ushered you toward Bi-Han’s bike like he was presenting you to royalty.

Bi-Han looked up from his phone the moment he heard you approach. His eyes swept over you once—checking your jacket, your shoes, the slight tension in your shoulders. He slipped his phone into his pocket in one fluid motion.

No smile.

No words.

Just a quiet acknowledgment in his gaze.

He swung one leg off the bike with smooth, controlled ease. Without a word, he shrugged out of his leather jacket—dark, heavy, unmistakably his—and stepped toward you. Before you could protest, he draped it over your shoulders, guiding your arms through the sleeves with careful hands.

The jacket swallowed you.

Warm.

Heavy.

And saturated with his scent—clean leather, faint smoke, something cold and sharp beneath it.

It made a shiver run down your spine.

You glanced up at him instinctively, eyes softening in a way you didn’t mean to. Your lashes lowered slightly, and your breath caught for half a second.

Bi-Han paused.

Just for a moment.

Just enough to register the look you gave him.

Something flickered behind his eyes—a quick spark, gone as soon as it appeared—before he continued, expression settling back into its usual calm.

He turned, grabbed his helmet, and stepped close again. His touch was unexpectedly gentle as he lowered it onto your head, adjusting the straps and tilting it to sit perfectly. His fingers brushed your jawline once—light, steady, grounding.

When he was satisfied, he looked into your eyes through the visor slit.

A small smirk tugged at the side of his mouth—so subtle you almost missed it—before he lowered your visor with a soft click.

“Bi-Han… what about you?” you asked, worry threading your voice. “Aren’t you using one?”

He shook his head, slow and confident.

“I’ll be fine. We won’t be going fast.” His voice dropped, calm and reassuring. “This is precaution. To make you feel safer.”

Your chest loosened.

You exhaled a tight breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and nodded.

With the helmet on, his jacket enveloping you, and his voice still echoing in your ears, everything felt surreal.

He guided you toward the bike, one hand steady on your elbow, positioning your foot and helping you climb on with practiced care. Tomas was on your other side, babbling helpful instructions in between bursts of excitement.

“Okay—lean with the turn, not against it.”

“And don’t tense up too much, it makes it harder to balance.”

“Oh, and if you get scared just hold on tighter—Bi-Han won’t mind!”

“Tomas,” Bi-Han warned without looking at him.

“Right, right—helpful advice only!”

You bit back a laugh inside the helmet.

Between Tomas’s animated explanations and Bi-Han’s steady, grounding presence, you listened closely, nodding so they knew you understood.

Your pulse thudded.

Your fingers trembled once against the seat.

But you were ready.

Once he made sure you were seated securely, Bi-Han swung one leg over the bike again and settled into place in front of you. He eased the bike off its kickstand, the machine straightening smoothly beneath both of you as he sat back, posture calm and confident.

The moment the bike shifted, your body reacted on instinct—you wrapped your arms around him, hands flattening against his abdomen. His muscles tensed for a heartbeat, surprised by the sudden touch, before he let out a quiet exhale.

Then he reached down.

His fingers wrapped gently around your wrists, steady and warm, guiding your hands just a little lower to a spot where your grip would be more secure. He squeezed once. Reassuring, silent. A 'you’re safe' spoken without words.

His other hand shifted behind him, reaching back to your thigh, his thumb brushing a small, slow arc meant to calm your nerves.

The touch worked.

Your breath steadied.

Your shoulders relaxed.

Out of the corner of your vision, Tomas and Kuai both gave him the signal that they were ready. The moment Bi-Han saw it, he tapped your thigh lightly with two fingers—a quiet cue.

Hold on.

Then he turned the key.

The engine roared to life beneath you, deep and powerful, vibrating through your legs and up your spine. The warmth of Bi-Han’s back, the weight of his jacket on your shoulders, the solidness of your grip around him—it all wrapped together into a feeling that was equal parts adrenaline and comfort.

You tightened your hold, heart fluttering.

“Ready,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear through the helmet.

And then the bike rolled forward.

The ride was… exhilarating didn’t even begin to cover it.

The moment the city lights faded behind you, the three of them veered onto long stretches of backroads—quiet, open, nearly empty. The world blurred into streaks of silver moonlight and shadowed fields, cool wind rushing past you like a river.

You stared, utterly mesmerized.

The sky looked endless out here.

The trees rippled like waves.

The road stretched forward like a promise.

The air was cold enough to nip at your skin, but Bi-Han’s jacket wrapped around you like a shield, all warmth and weight and safety. Every time the breeze cut sharper, the scent of him and the faint warmth radiating from his back kept you steady.

Tomas and Kuai rode ahead and alongside, doing what they always did: causing chaos.

They raced each other, swapped lanes with ridiculous flair, and pulled tricks that made you gasp and laugh into your helmet. Their joy was infectious. Their energy wild.

You tightened your arms around Bi-Han with each surprise, and each time you did—

He loosened.

His posture shifted from rigid control into something almost relaxed, his back straightening, his shoulders easing. He even reached behind him, placing a steady hand on your thigh. The touch grounding, a silent check-in each time the road shifted beneath the tires.

And he didn’t remove it unless he absolutely needed to.

At one point Tomas pulled up right beside you, winking wildly through his visor and making exaggerated hand gestures that very clearly meant race me. His bike growled eagerly beneath him.

You laughed hard, shaking your head at him—

Until Bi-Han’s hand gave your thigh a firmer squeeze.

He leaned back just slightly, voice carrying over the wind:

“You want to race him?”

The adrenaline rushing through your veins made you reckless, giddy, weightless. The world felt bigger than fear in that moment.

You nodded—once, sharp and excited.

Bi-Han saw it.

And he grinned.

A wicked, rare, sharp-edged grin that sent your pulse shooting upward.

He slid his hand up to tighten your arms around his torso, securing your hold, making sure you were flush against him.

“Hold on tight,” he warned, voice low.

He leaned his body closer to the bike, shifting into racing posture.

The engine rumbled beneath you, eager.

Tomas revved his own engine, taunting loudly.

And then—

Bi-Han gunned it.

The bike shot forward like a released arrow, the world streaking around you in a rush of wind and sound, your laughter lost in the roar of pure, perfect adrenaline.

He didn’t just ride.

He flew.

Tomas and Kuai revved their engines behind you, the deep roar echoing across the empty road as they pushed to catch up. For several long, thrilling minutes, the three of you rode almost shoulder-to-shoulder, weaving through the open stretch as the sky deepened from dusky purple into darker blue.

Eventually, the adrenaline tapered off as the daylight faded.

One by one, the three bikes slowed.

Kuai pulled up on your right, visor lifted just enough for you to see his eyes crinkle. Tomas flanked your left with a dramatic wink and a blown kiss through his helmet, both of them laughing through their engines.

With a final wave—stopping only once so Tomas could return your belongings—the brothers peeled off in opposite directions, their bikes roaring into the night as they headed home.

The sudden quiet left you alone with Bi-Han, his pace steady, controlled, and unhurried.

His hand returned to your thigh—not suggestive, just anchoring—keeping you balanced as the road smoothed out beneath the tires.

Your palms rested against his torso, the warmth of him bleeding through his shirt. You could feel the soft shift of muscle as he breathed, the steady rise and fall that matched the rhythm of the bike.

Without fully thinking, your hands slid lower along his abdomen, searching for stability as the bike rolled over a dip in the road. Your fingertips brushed across the firm lines beneath his shirt—muscle shifting, tightening, relaxing as he corrected the bike’s angle.

Bi-Han’s breath hitched.

Not loud, not obvious—

just enough for you to feel it.

And he didn’t pull away.

Didn’t shift your hands back into a “safer” place.

Didn’t break the contact.

He simply kept riding.

His hand remained on your thigh, steady and unhurried, fingers warm through the jean you wore. The cold air whipped around you, but the heat of him, the thrum of the engine, the solid strength beneath your palms—

It all wrapped into something grounding.

Something that steadied you rather than scattered you.

There was no rush now.

Just the two of you cutting through the night like the world didn’t exist.

And Bi-Han didn’t speak.

He didn’t have to.

Feeling bold—bold enough that the cold wind was irrelevant—you let your hands wander.

One hand drifted up, slow and deliberate, tracing his torso until your palm settled against the center of his chest. You could feel his breathing beneath your hand—controlled, even, but heavy enough to betray that he felt you.

Your other hand slid lower…

down his thigh…

your fingers spreading, testing the heat and firmness beneath your palm.

Bi-Han couldn’t see your face.

He didn’t need to.

He glanced down—just once—just enough to take in where your hands had gone. His shoulders loosened, his posture easing in a way so subtle you might’ve missed it if you weren’t touching him everywhere.

Then his hand—the one resting on your thigh—tightened.

Firm.

Measured.

Possessive.

Not pushing you away.

Not guiding you forward.

Just acknowledging you.

Letting you know he understood exactly what you were doing.

Heat rushed to your face behind the helmet. Embarrassment mixed with adrenaline and something deeper—something warm and electric—that pulled you toward him.

Instinctively, you leaned forward, resting your head against his back. Your arms tightened around his torso, your chest flush against the solid warmth of him.

His breathing changed—deepening, slowing—as if your closeness settled into him like something he welcomed.

Something he wanted.

His thumb brushed your thigh once again. A single, quiet stroke that felt more grounding than a grip. More intimate than a statement, more real than anything he’d said aloud. Then his hand stilled again.

Warm.

Steady.

The world narrowed to him—

his heat,

your hands,

and the dark road unfolding ahead.

Your thumb stroked slowly over his chest—soft, soothing, intimate, the kind of touch that felt like a secret. You weren’t sure if you were calming him… or steadying yourself.

Your other hand drifted lower along his thigh—bolder now—your fingertips tracing the inside curve of muscle.

Closer.

Warmer.

More daring.

Undeniably stepping into dangerous territory.

Bi-Han shifted.

Not much.

Just the slightest parting of his thighs—so small that anyone else would’ve missed it.

But not you.

It wasn’t nothing.

It was deliberate.

A silent, wordless permission.

A quiet if you’re going to explore… I won’t stop you.

His hand tightened on your thigh again, slow and unyielding, his fingers pressing just firmly enough to let you know he felt every second of what you were doing.

The bike stayed steady, controlled beneath you–but Bi-Han’s breathing?

Different now.

Barely.

Just barely.

Deeper.

Slower.

Focused.

Like he was holding himself still with effort.

Like your touch was testing the limits of his control.

Your eyes fluttered shut as your hand drifted inward, fingertips brushing along the thick, half-hard shape straining against his jeans. A slow, deliberate drag of your palm made sure there was no room for misunderstanding.

The reaction was instant.

Bi-Han’s entire body jolted—small, controlled, but impossible to miss with your chest pressed against his back. A low sound escaped him, rough and dark, scraped from somewhere deep in his chest. His grip on your thigh tightened sharply, fingers digging in with a pressure that sent a pulse straight between your legs.

Beneath your touch, he swelled—his length firming in your palm, heat blooming through the denim. You felt every throb, every twitch, every subtle pulse against your hand.

You pressed a little harder.

Bi-Han inhaled through his nose, sharp and unforgiving, his chest expanding beneath your other hand. That perfect discipline he carried like armor wavered for a heartbeat—just enough to make your stomach flip.

His thighs shifted again. This time, the space opened more clearly—still minimal, still subtle, but unmistakably intentional.

A quiet invitation.

A wordless surrender.

Silent permission from a man who trusted almost no one.

You cupped him fully through his jeans, your palm molding to the heat of him. You didn’t even squeeze—just the hold alone was enough to drag another restrained, guttural sound from his throat.

His breathing deepened… changed… lost its perfect timing.

He leaned forward on the bike slightly, one hand gripping the handlebar so tightly the tendons on the back of his hand flexed. The other stayed anchored to your thigh, thumb dragging a slow, shaky line over your skin like he needed the contact to ground himself.

The engine vibrated beneath you.

The night blurred around you.

But everything between you was molten.

He didn’t pretend not to want it.

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t correct you.

He let you touch him—boldly, openly—even as his breath faltered, betraying how intensely he felt every movement.

Your fingers slid to the button of his pants, hovering there just long enough that the question in your touch became unmistakable.

He didn’t speak.

Instead… he removed his hand from your thigh, just for a moment.

You felt the unmistakable shifting of denim.

The button popped.

The zipper eased open.

Then his hand returned to your thigh—this time with a firmer squeeze.

Claiming.

Demanding.

Clear.

Go on.

Your breath trembled inside the helmet as you accepted the invitation. You slipped your hand inside his pants, over the heat trapped beneath his boxers—slow, purposeful—and the burn of him against your palm made you shiver.

Bi-Han’s entire body jerked.

A sound tore from him—low, rough, helplessly dragged from his chest like he’d been trying to hold it in and failed. His grip on your thigh tightened, fingers digging in with a force that rode the edge of pain and pleasure.

You didn’t stop.

You stroked him again, slower this time, more deliberate, making sure he felt every inch of the drag. The friction of the thin fabric beneath your palm grew warmer, grew slick, the damp spot spreading as you worked him.

His length pulsed against your hand.

Bi-Han inhaled sharply, the breath breaking halfway through.

His shoulders tensed under your cheek, his head tilting forward as if the sensation punched through his carefully maintained control. Your fingers slipped beneath the fabric, finally wrapping around him—skin to skin.

Bi-Han choked on a sound, jaw clenched, his breathing shattering out of rhythm.

The fabric between you grew warm, damp, slick with him. The glide of your hand smoothed, heat rolling up your arm, into your chest.

Bi-Han’s breathing lost all discipline.

Each inhale dragged heavy.

Each exhale trembled, unsteady and raw.

His hand slid higher on your thigh, gripping, anchoring himself to you like you were the only thing holding him together.

He drew in another shaky breath.

“…keep doing that,” he muttered, voice ruined and barely audible over the engine.

Not an order.

Not even close.

A plea disguised as one.

Your fist tightened around him, stroking again—slow, devastatingly steady.

Bi-Han shuddered.

Actually shuddered.

His back leaned into you—just slightly—but enough to tell you how close he was to unraveling with you on the bike.

His cock twitched in your hand — sharp, needy pulses that throbbed against your palm like he couldn’t contain the reactions even if he tried. You brushed your thumb lightly over the tip, gathering the slick warmth leaking from him, and used it to stroke him more earnestly.

Bi-Han’s head tilted back against you — just barely — a controlled lean that still somehow felt desperate. His breath spilled out in a heavy, unrestrained exhale, vibrating through his chest and into your hand.

“Pull me out, baby…” he groaned, voice raw, low, and loud enough for you to hear through the rumble of the engine.

You didn’t hesitate.

You slipped your hand deeper, free hand tugging his jeans down just enough. His flushed, thick length spilled into your palm, hard and twitching, hot against your skin.

Bi-Han glanced down — a quick, dark flicker of his eyes that took in the sight of your small hands wrapped around him. His jaw clenched. He bit his lower lip, tore his gaze away, and fixed it back on the road with a sharp inhale.

You wrapped both hands around him, pumping his cock smoothly, deliberately — the glide easier now with every drop of heat leaking from him. He was heavy in your hold, thick enough that your fingers didn’t close entirely around him at the base.

His breathing fractured again.

You stroked him faster, tightening your grip just a little, your hands disappear around him over and over.

The bike hummed beneath you.

The night air whipped by.

And Bi-Han was unraveling in your hands.

You faintly noticed the turn he took — the familiar curve of the road leading toward your house. You were minutes away.

A wicked idea pulsed through you.

You tightened your grip.

Bi-Han choked on a sound — sharp, guttural, dragged from somewhere buried deep. His hips jerked, just once, just enough for you to feel how close he was.

His hand clamped harder onto your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin with a force that bordered on bruising. His chest expanded in a desperate inhale, and his entire body trembled through one hard shiver you felt from shoulders to thighs.

You stroked him again.

Slower.

Tighter.

Deliberate.

His cock throbbed violently in your hands, leaking more across your fingers, the heat rolling through your palms like a promise.

You were so close to home.

And he was so close to breaking.

As the bike slowed and rolled into your driveway, you grinned against his back. You didn’t stop. One hand kept stroking him steadily, and with your other you ground your palm against his tip, teasing circles that made him twitch violently.

Bi-Han barely managed to ease the motorcycle onto its kickstand before his control cracked.

His head snapped back, a low, desperate moan ripped from his throat — unrestrained, raw, nothing like the measured man he normally was. His hand blindly found your thigh, gripping hard enough to warn you and beg you all at once.

Then he reached for his shirt.

He grabbed the hem of black fabric and yanked it upward, exposing the hard clench of his abdomen — every line tight, every muscle twitching under your touch. He bit down on the shirt, holding it between his teeth, the sound he made muffled and wrecked.

He leaned back into you, breathing hard, his weight settling against you in a way that felt like surrender.

You stroked him faster.

Your palm gliding.

Your thumb circling his dripping tip.

His cock jumping in your hands, desperate and close.

His moans grew rougher, chest rising sharply against your palm on every inhale. His thighs shook, knees parting instinctively as he arched into your hold.

Then—

You felt it.

A hard, uncontrollable jolt of his hips.

And he spilled into your hand.

Thick, hot, pulse after pulse coating your fingers. You tightened your grip just a little, coaxing it out of him, dragging another ragged groan from his chest.

You removed your hand from his tip—

—and his next release shot upward, splattering across his exposed abdomen in slow, heavy streaks.

It dripped down the tense ridges of muscle, streaking him beautifully in the moonlit glow of your porch light.

He trembled.

Jaw tight.

Shirt still clenched between his teeth.

Breathing wrecked.

Marked by his own pleasure and your hands.

And you couldn’t help admiring the sight — Bi-Han sprawled against you, body shaking, cum painting his stomach, his control shattered in your arms.

To your surprise, he didn’t soften at all.

His cock stayed hard in your hand, twitching with lingering sensitivity, still heavy and flushed. Bi-Han released his shirt from between his teeth, chest still rising sharply, and leaned forward just enough to tug you out from behind him.

Turning off the bike, he helped you climb off, hands firm and steady at your waist. He removed your helmet in one smooth motion and tossed it aside before pulling you in and kissing you—hard.

His mouth crashed onto yours, raw and urgent, tasting like need. His hands clamped onto your hips, dragging you flush against him while he devoured every sound you made.

When he finally tore his mouth from yours, both of you were breathing hard, lips swollen, faces flushed. His eyes were dark, glassy, still hazy from orgasm—but filled with something sharper.

Predatory.

Your only warning was that glint.

Before you could inhale, he grabbed your waist, spun you around, and bent you over the bike.

You gasped, shocked, your palms bracing against the cool metal.

“Bi-Han! We’re outside,” you stammered, breath shaking. “The— the door is right there—”

He ignored that completely.

Your pants were torn down your legs in one fierce pull. Cold air hit your thighs—then his warm hand replaced it instantly, gripping, spreading, claiming.

He hummed a low sound behind you as his fingers slid between your folds, gathering the slick dripping out of you.

You moaned, soft and involuntary.

“The… the neighbors…” you tried again, voice trembling. “They’re home. They’ll see us—!”

Bi-Han’s eyes flicked toward the house next door, quick and disinterested, before pinning back on you.

His free hand wrapped around his length—still firm, still leaking—dragging himself through your soaked folds. The wet sound was obscene in the quiet night.

He coated himself in you, stroking slowly, deliberately.

“Let them watch,” he murmured, voice low and rough against your ear. “Let them see how nicely I fuck you.”

You felt the blunt heat of his head press against your entrance—slow, unhurried, but with a promise of force behind it.

Your fingers dug into the seat of the bike..

You barely had time to breathe before he began to push in.

Your cunt stretched around him inch by inch, slowly swallowing his length. You clenched hard—instinctive, desperate—as if your body wanted to drag him in even deeper.

Bi-Han hissed through his teeth.

The sound was sharp, guttural, punched straight from his lungs.

Your heat wrapped around him so tight it bordered on overwhelming, and his fingers flexed on your hip as if he needed something to hold onto.

“Fuck…” he breathed, low and rough.

He smoothed a palm up your ass, the touch firm, appreciative, almost tender—then squeezed, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pushed deeper. He stuffed you full with slow, deliberate pressure, savoring every inch your body took.

The moment his hips met your ass, his mouth fell open.

And the filth poured out of him like he’d been holding it back for years.

“Look at you,” he rasped, voice thick and dark. “Taking my cock like you were made for it.”

Your walls clenched again, fluttering around him, and he let out a strained sound that vibrated through your spine.

“So fucking wet,” he growled, dragging his hips back just an inch so he could watch himself slide in again. “Leaking for me the second I touch you.”

His hand slid down your ass, thumb brushing the corner of your entrance where he was splitting you open.

“You hear that?”

The wet, obscene noise echoed between your thighs.

“That’s how desperate you are.”

Your breath hitched.

He chuckled—low, cruel, pleased.

“Good slut,” he muttered, the words dripping off his tongue like molten heat. “My good, tight little slut.”

He thrust deeper, slow but forceful, his length dragging against every tender spot inside you.

“So fucking tight,” he snarled. “So tight I can feel you shaking.”

His grip tightened on your hip, pulling you back onto him, forcing you to take every inch.

“You’re not even trying,” he growled into your ear, breath hot against your skin, “and you’re already squeezing me like you want to milk me.”

Your legs trembled.

“And I’m not stopping,” he added, voice dropping into something dark and final. “Not until I ruin this pussy out here… where anyone can see.”

His hips rolled into you at an agonizing pace, dragging his cock out of you only to sink back in with a deep, deliberate push that made your cunt flutter helplessly around him.

You clenched so tightly he groaned, the sound torn straight from his chest.

He kept thrusting slow, cruel, savoring how your body reacted to every inch he gave you.

Then his breath hitched—

and he laughed.

A low, breathless, wicked sound that scraped right against your spine.

“Did you know you made them hard earlier?” he murmured against your ear, hips snapping forward just a little harder. “My brothers… both of them.”

Your thighs trembled.

He chuckled again, dark and pleased.

“You had them staring like they didn’t know where to put their eyes.”

He pulled out halfway, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you—

then pushed back in, slow and deep.

“And now look at you,” he added, voice thick, “shaking on my cock.”

Your breath hitched.

You’d teased Tomas and Kuai earlier during the morning, sure — but you hadn’t expected that kind of reaction from them. You were only trying to get back at them for teasing you over your sensual music choices. The surprise flickered through you, quick and breathless.

Bi-Han felt it.

And he only leaned in filthier, voice dipping lower, darker, the satisfaction in it unmistakable.

“Talking to them like that…” he murmured, amusement curling around every word. “Describing the music… the meaning behind it…”

He let out a soft, breathless laugh that vibrated against your skin.

“You don’t think they imagined things? Imagined touching you? Imagined what those lyrics would look like… with you?”

A quiet sound escaped you, your body reacting on instinct, hips shifting just enough to meet the slow roll of his.

Bi-Han groaned softly, a low sound of approval, and his next movement was firmer — controlled, deliberate — a reward for responding to him.

“And Tomas…” he continued, tone turning even darker, “he couldn’t even stay still. I saw him grinding into his palm. That’s how undone you had him.”

Heat washed through you, sharp and dizzying.

Bi-Han chuckled again, low and wicked, lips brushing your ear.

“Imagine,” he murmured, “what would’ve happened if they saw you like this.”

His hand tightened on your hip, his breath warm against your neck.

“Close. Breathless. Barely holding yourself together.”

Your whole body trembled.

“And you have no idea,” he added, voice sinking into something dangerously soft, “how much that thought drives me mad.”

You mewled for him, the sound so sweet it practically melted out of you, and Bi-Han’s breath hitched like the noise struck him somewhere deep. You were hanging on by threads, barely thinking, barely breathing — and he felt that too.

He gave you a sliver of mercy.

Just a sliver.

His pace sharpened — deeper, harder, more purposeful — and the sudden change ripped a gasp out of you. Bi-Han’s head tilted back slightly, jaw tight, because your body clamped around him like you were trying to drag him under with you.

It took almost nothing.

A handful of his filthy words in your ear, the steady drive of his hips, the heat of him everywhere — and you fell apart. Hard. Fast. Your whole body trembled against him, breath breaking, nails curling into whatever you could reach.

He growled at the way you reacted — a low, dark, satisfied sound.

You barely had time to catch the aftershocks before he moved.

He slipped free and flipped you with a single, fluid motion, hands dragging the rest of your pants off with zero hesitation. He didn’t even look at where they landed. He didn’t care.

Then he grabbed you.

Hands under your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing, pulling your body flush to his with a force that stole your breath. Your legs wrapped around him on instinct, your heart hammering as he pressed inside again — hot, solid, unrelenting.

You could feel how worked up he still was.

How badly he wanted you.

How little control he actually had left.

He carried you straight to the door.

Your back hit it hard enough to draw a soft cry from your lips. His hands clamped on your hips again, pinning you there, his mouth hovering close, his breath shaking with the effort of holding back… something.

He didn’t even wait for you to recover.

His body pushed into yours again — claiming, hungry, barely restrained — each subtle roll of his hips making your pulse trip painfully fast.

His lips brushed your ear when he spoke, voice a low, wicked growl.

“Go on,” he murmured, tone dripping slow and teasing. “Open the door.”

His fingers tightened at your waist.

Not urging you.

Commanding you.

All the promise in his voice hit you at once — dark, breathless, filthy — and you knew exactly what was waiting for you the moment you got that handle turned.

Your fingers fumbled with the keys, vision blurring, mind turned to useless, trembling mush. You tried to slide the key into the lock — you really tried — but Bi-Han didn’t stop.

His hips kept driving into you with sharp, deliberate force, each movement knocking the breath out of you and sending sparks racing up your spine. The pressure of his body pinning you to the door made it impossible to focus on anything else.

Your hand shook.

The key scraped uselessly against the lock.

He leaned close, lips brushing your cheek, voice so low and cruel it shot straight down your spine.

“If you don’t open this door,” he murmured, steady and unbothered, “I’ll just make you fall apart right here.”

His pace shifted.

Sharper.

Harder.

Merciless.

A gasp tore out of you, your body jerking helplessly against the door. The keys slipped from your shaky fingers, clattering to the ground.

You didn’t even try to reach for them.

Your arms flew around him instead, clinging to his shoulders, your whole body arching into his as the heat built inside you again — fast, dangerous, overwhelming. Your breath came in broken little bursts against his neck, and you felt his grip tighten on your thighs as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Bi-Han breathed against your ear, voice dark and pleased at how quickly you were unraveling for him again.

“Go on,” he whispered. “Cum.”

And you did — your body trembling, back pressed to the door, his hands holding you exactly where he wanted you while the second wave built and crashed through you, wiping out whatever strength you had left.

Your whimpers turned into something softer, sweeter, downright sinful — sounds you couldn’t have held back if you tried. Each noise punched straight through Bi-Han’s control. You felt him shiver against you, breath stuttering like he couldn’t believe how gone you were for him.

He could have paused.

He could have bent down, scooped up your keys, let you unlock the door like a sane person.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Not when you felt like this in his arms.

Not when you clung to him like you needed him to stay upright.

Not when every tiny movement of your body sent shockwaves through him.

Your legs trembled around his hips, gripping him tighter, and Bi-Han’s head dipped to your neck, a harsh exhale brushing your skin.

“Too perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

His hold on you tightened, fingers digging into your thighs, his body moving with a pace he clearly wasn’t planning to stop. You could feel the painful tension building again — that familiar pressure curling deep, quick, impossible to fight.

Your breath stuttered, your hands grasping at his shoulders, clutching fabric like you’d fall apart without him there to hold you. The heat rolled back into your spine, faster this time, sharper, your legs shaking in his grip.

He felt it.

He always did.

Your body tightened in his hands, and he let out a low, ragged sound — the kind that told you he was losing his own composure just as fast.

“Let it happen,” he growled against your neck. “I want to feel cum again.”

Your body didn’t even hesitate.

The command left his lips, and you broke again — instantly, violently, body seizing from having cum thre times back-to-back. Your breath caught, your entire frame tightening painfully in his hold as the release wracked through you once more.

Bi-Han couldn't even stop at this point—didn't want to stop.

He didn’t even slow down.

If anything, he drove into you harder, determined to drag every last tremor out of you. The intensity of it made your legs jolt around him, your fingers clawing at his shoulders until you couldn’t hold back another cry.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, desperate to muffle the loud, hitched squeal that escaped you anyway. Your head tipped back and bumped the door with a dull thud, your body twitching helplessly in his arms, every muscle shaking from how relentlessly he kept pushing you through the high.

Bi-Han felt it all.

Every shiver.

Every flutter.

Every tiny jolt that said you were completely undone.

A shaky, breathless laugh broke out of him — rough, disbelieving, overwhelmed by how fiercely you reacted.

“Look at you,” he muttered against your skin, voice unsteady with heat and something close to awe. “You can’t even breathe without falling apart on me.”

His grip on your thighs tightened, pulling you even closer as he pinned you to the door, absorbing every tremor running through your body.

And gods, you were still shaking.

Still clinging to him.

Still reacting exactly the way he wanted.

Your hand slipped away from your mouth, your breath breaking into tiny, desperate sounds as you tried to form words.

“Bi-Han… please— ahh— inside…” your voice cracked, hips jerking helplessly against him. “I want— ngh— I want you to fuck me properly.”

Shameless.

Feral.

Begging for him.

Bi-Han froze.

Just for a second.

A rough, guttural growl tore out of him, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as if your words punched the air out of his lungs. His whole body went rigid, every muscle pulled tight with the effort of not losing himself right there against your front door.

He drew in one long, controlled breath — the kind that barely held him together — then shifted his grip on you, lifting you higher, securing you against him like he had no intention of letting you slip even an inch.

Then he moved.

Fast.

He bent just enough to snatch the fallen keys off the ground, keeping you pinned to him the entire time. He didn’t even waver. Not once. His strength barely faltered as he shoved the key into the lock with sharp, impatient precision.

The door clicked open.

He kicked it wide with his foot, stepped inside without breaking stride, and slammed it shut behind him with a force that rattled the frame.

You didn’t even get the chance to breathe before his mouth found your neck, his grip tightening like he was seconds away from completely giving in to everything you’d just begged him for.

He carried you straight to the dining room, barely giving the darkness time to settle around the two of you. With a hard exhale, he set you on the table — not gently, not carelessly, but with the kind of control that said he needed you spread out in front of him right now.

He straightened slowly.

His eyes dragged over you, dark and burning, pinning you in place better than his hands ever could. Apparently, three orgasms didn't count as properly fucking you, huh?

“Fuck you properly, hmm?” he echoed, a sharp grin cutting across his face as he stepped closer. His hips rolled once — shallow, taunting, testing your reaction — his voice dripping with smug heat. “Sweetheart… I don’t think you can handle what you’re asking for.”

You should have let that go.

You should have bitten your tongue.

But your mouth betrayed you long before your brain could interfere.

“I’d bet Tomas and Kuai would do it better than this.”

The second the words slipped out, your eyes flew wide.

Silence hit the room like a blade.

Bi-Han froze.

Absolutely still.

Not a breath.

Not a sound.

Not a flinch.

Just his stare — heavy, unreadable, dangerously calm — dragging down your body before locking onto your face.

Then everything snapped.

His hands clamped onto your hips, and he moved with a force that stole the air from your lungs, the sudden intensity making you cry out. The shift in his rhythm was brutal — the restraint from outside shattered, replaced by a raw, punishing urgency that tore helpless, high-pitched sounds from your throat.

You couldn’t stop them.

You couldn’t bite them back.

He didn’t give you the chance.

A broken wail tore out of you, your back arching off the table, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as he drove the breath straight out of your body again and again.

Some part of you — a wild, reckless part — whispered a hysterical thank-you that you’d opened your mouth…

The rest of you cursed it.

Because Bi-Han’s reaction was overwhelming — feral, possessive, merciless — and every second of it felt like punishment for even daring to say another man’s name.

Bi-Han didn’t slow down.

Not even when you tried to suck in a breath.

Not even when your spine arched off the table.

Not even when your hands scrambled for anything to hold onto, cunt burning in oversensitivity.

He leaned over you, chest brushing yours, his mouth finding your ear with terrifying precision. His breath hit your skin—hot, ragged, furious.

“You think they could do this?” he snarled, voice breaking into a dark, guttural rasp. “You think either of them could handle you when you’re like this?”

His rhythm didn’t falter.

Not once.

“You think Tomas could make you shake like this?” he hissed, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Think Kuai could keep up? Think either of them could even touch you without falling apart?”

You tried to speak—

you tried.

“Bi— B-Bi-Han, I didn’t— I m-mean—”

The words came out a ruined stutter, your breath catching on every sharp movement he forced through your body.

He laughed.

A low, breathless, vicious thing that vibrated against your neck.

“What’s wrong?” he mocked, voice dripping with heat. “You had plenty to say before.”

You shook your head desperately, trying again, your voice tumbling out in small, broken pieces.

“I—I didn’t mean— I wasn’t— please— I’m sorry—”

But his next movement shattered what little sentence you had left.

Your apology fell apart on your tongue, dissolving into a strangled sound you couldn’t hold back. Your legs tightened unconsciously, your hands curling toward his shoulders without coordination.

He dragged his mouth along your jaw, voice a dark growl.

“Pathetic,” he murmured. “Look at you. Words all gone. Brain all gone. And you thought someone else could do better?”

You made a noise—high, breathless, almost panicked at how overloaded you felt.

He smirked against your skin.

“That’s what I thought.”

His hand slid up your ribs, gripping you harder, making your breath break again.

“Say their names now,” he whispered, venomously soft. “Go on. Try.”

You didn’t know why you did it.

Maybe it was spite.

Maybe it was desperation.

Maybe it was that thin, reckless thread inside you that always snapped when Bi-Han pushed you this far.

But you moaned out their names.

Soft.

Shameless.

Barely formed.

“T—Tomas… K-Kuai—”

Bi-Han went still.

Not silent.

Not calm.

Just… still.

A dangerous stillness.

Like the second before lightning hits the ground.

His head lifted slowly, eyes dropping to you with a look so dark it made your stomach flip.

Then a thought crossed his face — sharp, feral, possessive enough to be felt instead of seen.

He released one of your hips, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his phone.

Your breath caught.

“Wait— Bi-Han—”

He didn’t listen.

Didn’t even pretend to.

He unlocked the screen with a quick swipe, thumb moving with eerie calm as he tapped into his contacts.

Then he pressed a button.

The line began to ring.

He held the phone near your ear—not close enough for them to hear you clearly, but close enough that you could hear the ringing loud, sharp, humiliating.

“Bi-Han—!” you gasped, voice cracking.

He leaned down, his mouth brushing your cheek, his tone low and venomously pleased.

“Let’s see,” he murmured, “how they react to hearing their names fall out of your mouth like that.”

Your breath stuttered, chest tightening with a mix of panic, embarrassment, arousal—everything tangled so tightly you couldn’t separate one feeling from another.

The phone kept ringing.

Both of their names lit up the screen.

Bi-Han’s smile sharpened, dark and vicious.

“They deserve to know,” he whispered, his voice shaking with restrained heat, “exactly what you sound like when you’re begging.”

The phone kept ringing, shrill and merciless in your ear.

Your breath came out uneven, panic and heat twisting together so tightly you couldn’t separate them. You squirmed in his hold, not to escape but because the humiliation was almost too much to handle.

Bi-Han didn’t let you go.

He didn’t even waver.

He moved the phone closer to your face—then, with a deliberate swipe of his thumb, pressed the speaker button.

The ringing became louder.

Sharper.

Impossible to ignore.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

“Bi-Han—please— don’t—”

He leaned down, lips brushing the corner of your mouth, his voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper.

“You wanted to say their names… so let them hear you.”

Your stomach dropped.

“And if you can’t stop making those noises,” he murmured, voice thick with possession, “they’ll know exactly what puts you in that state. Every little sound you try to swallow.”

Your breath hitched hard.

The phone kept ringing.

He chuckled darkly—barely a sound, more like a vibration against your skin.

“Imagine Tomas right now,” he whispered. “Hearing you on the other end. Wondering why you sound like that.”

You shook your head frantically, but the trembling in your body betrayed you.

“And Kuai…” he added, tone sinking even lower, “trying to pretend he isn’t listening harder than he should.”

The ringing cut—

And both of them answered.

A single click.

Two voices overlapping.

“Hello?”

“Bi-Han? Everything alri—”

They froze.

Because the moment they spoke, a helpless, breathless sound escaped your throat—soft, broken, undeniably intimate.

The kind of sound no one could misunderstand.

Bi-Han’s smile widened against your cheek, darkness spilling off him in waves.

“There it is,” he whispered, savoring it. “Sweet enough for both of them to hear.”

You clamped a hand over your mouth, mortified.

But he caught your wrist mid-movement, pinning it to the table beside your head.

“No,” he hissed gently. “Let them hear you.”

The call stayed open.

Their stunned silence filled the room.

Bi-Han leaned in, voice sharp as a blade and twice as filthy in intent.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he breathed. “Give them something to remember.”

Their shaky breaths bled through the speaker.

Two sharp inhales.

A startled silence.

Then the unmistakable sound of both Tomas and Kuai freezing on the other end, straining to understand what they were hearing.

You wanted to disappear.

Bi-Han wanted the opposite.

He pinned your wrist harder against the table, leaning down until his lips brushed your ear, voice rough with possessive heat.

“Say their names,” he murmured. “Right now.”

Your whole body jolted.

“T-Tomas—”

“K-Kuai—”

The names fell out of you in broken gasps, barely formed words pushed from your throat because you couldn’t hold them back.

The line crackled softly.

Both brothers sucked in a breath at the same time — shaky, involuntary, like the sound of you had hit them dead center.

Bi-Han smiled.

You could feel it against your cheek, slow and vicious.

“Listen to them,” he whispered. “Struggling to breathe because of you.”

You whimpered helplessly, but he didn’t let go of your captured wrist. His other hand tightened where it held you steady, keeping you in place like he owned every trembling inch of you.

“You hear that?” he taunted, lifting his voice just enough for the open call. “That’s what she sounds like when she says your names.”

Another sharp inhale from the speaker — soft, stunned, shamefully audible.

Bi-Han’s tone darkened, becoming something low, territorial, and dripping filth.

“But don’t fool yourselves,” he growled, voice dropping to a deadly whisper near your mouth. “She’s not making those sounds for either of you.”

Your breath stuttered, your free hand clutching at the table edge.

He angled the phone closer, ensuring every breath you let out carried across the line.

“Go on,” he commanded, voice a slow drag of heat. “Show them who’s actually making you feel like this.”

You shook your head in mortified panic — but he grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze up to him, holding you still with frightening, effortless control.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, “I said moan.”

His thumb stroked the corner of your mouth, a cruel parody of tenderness.

“Give them the truth,” he said. “Let them hear who you come apart for.”

Your voice broke.

A soft, helpless sound left your lips — the kind you couldn’t swallow down even if your life depended on it.

On the other end of the line, both brothers made tiny, involuntary noises — the kind men make when they’re stunned, affected, and trying desperately not to react.

Bi-Han shivered in pleasure at the sound.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Give them more.”

You heard it—that tiny, shocked whisper of your name.

“…Y/N?”

It was Tomas.

Barely audible.

Barely breathing.

The sound hit you like a pulse of heat, your fingers twitching uselessly against the table.

Then Kuai’s voice followed—quiet, fractured, like he didn’t know whether to speak or hang up.

“Bi-Han… what— what are we hearing?”

Your lungs seized.

You wanted to respond.

To deny it.

To explain.

To breathe.

But nothing came out.

Bi-Han didn’t let you try.

He leaned down, mouth brushing your cheek, voice a low blade dragged across your nerves.

“Answer them,” he taunted softly. “Or is your mind too far gone already?”

Your lips parted, a sound barely forming.

“T-Tomas… Kuai, I—”

Nothing else came out.

Your voice broke apart, dissolving into something breathless, unsteady, completely useless.

Tomas inhaled through the line—

shaky, involuntary, stunned.

Kuai murmured your name again, the sound tight like he was fighting something in his throat.

“Are you— are you alright?”

Bi-Han laughed.

Not loud.

Not cruel.

Worse.

Deep, breathless, triumphant—the sound of a man reveling in exactly how undone you were.

He put the phone even closer, letting the static catch every tiny breath you couldn’t hold back.

“You hear that?” he said to the brothers, his voice dripping poison-smooth. “She can’t even speak.”

Your fingers curled helplessly in the fabric beneath you.

“Look how quiet she gets,” he went on, taunting, savoring. “All that backtalk earlier… gone.”

Your head tipped back, vision blurring, your whole body shaking from the sheer psychological overload.

And the worst part—

the part that made your stomach twist and your pulse spin—

You didn’t care about the call anymore.

Not one bit.

Shame had melted into heat.

Embarrassment into helplessness.

Your mind into static and Bi-Han’s voice.

He felt it.

Of course he did.

A dark smile curved at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in close enough for his breath to slide against your throat.

“I told you,” he murmured, smooth and venomous, “you’d fall apart for me.”

Your name whispered from the phone again–fragile, stunned.

And Bi-Han whispered back, for you alone:

“Let them listen. They can’t touch you.”

Your chest tightened, your breathing breaking in short, desperate little bursts.

You were gone.

Completely.

The moment he felt you unravel completely—mind blank, breath broken, body trembling in his hands—something in him snapped.

His movements sharpened.

The rhythm shifted—harder, faster, unrestrained—a sudden rush of intensity that made your whole body jolt against him.

You gasped, fingers clawing instinctively at the table, your back arching as the world blurred into heat and sound and the weight of him above you.

The phone was still on speaker.

But neither of you remembered it existed anymore.

The only thing you heard was him.

His breath.

His voice.

The low, ragged sounds spilling from his throat as the last of his restraint shattered.

“Bi—Bi-Han—!” you tried to warn, tried to breathe, but the words dissolved instantly into something soft, high, completely uncontrollable.

The table creaked beneath you.

Your legs trembled.

Your mind went white around the edges.

He leaned over you, bracing one hand beside your head, his breath rough against your cheek as he lost himself fully in the moment.

“Gods—look at you,” he rasped, voice breaking, heat dripping from every word. “You don’t even care they’re listening.”

He was right.

You didn’t.

You were so far gone in the haze he’d dragged you into, so overwhelmed by the pace he’d snapped into, that the entire world narrowed to the push and pull of him—nothing else.

Your fingers curled helplessly in the tablecloth.

Your lip caught between your teeth.

Your eyes rolled back, vision swimming.

Bi-Han’s head dropped to your shoulder, a guttural sound rumbling out of him—raw, desperate, almost pained from how deeply he was lost with you.

Neither of you heard Tomas whisper your name again.

Neither of you caught the uneven “is she—?” from Kuai.

You were both too far gone.

Breathless.

Consumed.

Moving together helplessly, recklessly, forgetting absolutely everything except the fire between your bodies.

Bi-Han’s movements turned brutal.

Not reckless — controlled brutality, sharp and consuming, every motion driving you further into the table until you were gasping for air. The force of him rattled through you, each deep, urgent thrust sending sparks snapping behind your eyes.

You felt him start to lose control.

His breath stuttered.

His rhythm broke its precision.

His grip tightened almost painfully around your hips.

He was close.

Dangerously close.

Your body reacted on its own — unable to hold anything in, unable to hold anything back. The tension coiled in your spine snapped all at once, tearing a raw, choked sound from your throat as you fell apart one final time.

“Bi—Bi-Han!”

His name spilled out of you in a broken cry, your whole body tightening in his hands as the high ripped through you harder and faster than you could brace for.

Bi-Han felt it.

A guttural sound tore out of him — low, ragged, punched from somewhere deep in his chest. The moment your legs trembled and your voice cracked, the last thread of his control snapped.

“Gods—” he choked out, voice shredded.

He drove forward once more — hard, deep, claiming — his entire body seizing with the force of his own release. His breath collided with your shoulder in sharp, uneven bursts as he held you there, pressed fully to him while every muscle in his body tensed.

The only sound in the room was the brutal, uneven panting coming from both of you — your chest heaving, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his hands still gripping your hips like he couldn’t let go yet.

The phone was still on the table.

Still on speaker.

Still connected.

But neither of you cared.

Not right then.

Not when both of you were too lost in the aftershocks, bodies pressed together, breath mingling in the dim room as the world slowly stopped spinning around you.

He exhaled shakily against your neck, the sound raw, exhausted, and far too intimate.

You didn’t move.

Neither did he.

You just hung there in the stillness, panting, trembling, recovering — the air thick with everything you’d just done and everything you weren’t ready to think about yet.

The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

And that’s when you heard it.

A shaky, uneven inhale—not yours.

Not Bi-Han’s.

“…oh… god…”

Tomas.

Barely whispered, barely formed—like he didn’t mean to let it slip out loud.

Then Kuai—breath rough, tight, unmistakably affected: “Is she…? Are they still—?”

His voice cracked.

Your eyes snapped open.

Bi-Han stilled, his shoulders rising in a slow, dangerous breath.

Then another sound filtered through the speaker—

a choked exhale,

a soft curse,

two men on the other end of a line who had heard far too much and could not hide it.

Bi-Han didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

He just shifted his gaze toward the phone lying crooked on the table beside your arm.

The silence stretched.

Thick.

Loaded.

Humiliating in a way that made your stomach flip.

Then Bi-Han exhaled once—sharp, almost bored—and said in a low, deadpan murmur:

“Hope you enjoyed that.”

Your jaw dropped.

A startled laugh burst out of you—half mortified, half delirious—and you slapped a hand over your mouth too late.

Through the speaker, two things happened at once:

Tomas sucked in a breath.

Kuai made a low, strangled noise like he didn’t know whether to hang up or turn to stone.

Bi-Han didn’t even blink.

He shifted his weight slightly, still catching his breath, still towering over you with that post-storm intensity, and added dryly:

“You’re both pathetic.”

Another twin inhale from the other end—shaky, shameful, stunned.

You couldn’t stop giggling now, soft, breathless little bursts you tried to swallow, but your body was still trembling and your brain was scrambled, and the whole situation was absurdly, painfully, horribly funny.

Bi-Han finally picked up the phone, glanced at the screen, then lifted it just high enough for his brothers to hear the final blow:

“Next time, hang up faster.”

And he ended the call.

It’s not that your thoughts wouldn’t sit still. It was more like your brain was too still.

Your thoughts slipped through your fingers like water; every attempt to gather them dissolved the second you tried to make sense of anything. The room felt so, so hot… and you weren’t sure if it was the air or just your sweet boyfriend lingering everywhere. You really tried to focus your blurred vision, but your irises kept rolling to the back of your head like it was an instinct.

“Baby…”

You let out a soft mewl in response to the saccharine call of your name, granted to you by Jay as he gently caressed his palms from your waist and down to your hips. His hands were so warm, igniting your nerves as they created a drag path across your body line. Jay was saying something, and you could barely make out the outline of his pretty lips moving to formulate words, but your ears weren’t registering what they were saying.

Amidst your haze, you caught the soft question, “Color, baby?”

You blinked and whimpered out a broken, “Green…”

You felt his lips press against your forehead, bringing you back to reality before you quickly slipped back into the hazy space that Jay soothed your mind into. “Sweet, sweet girl…”

“Jay…” You breathed out.

“I’m here, baby, ‘m your Jay…” He cooed.

God, this was Jay’s favorite sight.

His sweet, sweet baby… so, so soft and dazed for him.

He lowered his mouth to your dripping cunt, which was leaking the delicious nectar that his taste buds were craving. He suckled gently on your clit as his tongue prodded in within the heat between your glossy folds. He let out a muted grunt as his muscle was coated in your arousal, saliva and secretion flooding the heat of his mouth. You let out whiny mewls as he eagerly lapped at your pussy, your body writhing around in response.

“Sweet, sweet, sensitive baby… so tasty f’me, my love.”

Jay’s voice was ringing in your ears, finally registering somewhere within the cloudy and foggy scene of your mind. “Jay…” you helplessly called out.

“Oh, baby, what do I do with you…?”

You could only feel the hot sensation of his tongue laving over your pussy lips and the grounding sensation of his palms pinning your body to the bed. Your thighs kept trembling, threatening to close shut. Every time, he nudged your legs back apart with his hands, as if forcing them into a welcoming embrace as a greeting for his mouth. You blinked slowly, your mind being controlled by the pleasurable feeling Jay was oh-so carefully and slowly drawing out of your body.

“Mmm, Jay…” You breathed out.

“I’m here, baby…” He reassured you. He suckled harder on your clit, earning himself a loud and mouse-like squeak from your lips. He laughed, an airy sound that traversed through your ears and slipped past your brain.

“F— feels good…” you managed to stammer out despite your sluggish tongue threatening to loll out of your mouth.