You are my only sea. I'm submerged in your eyes..

You sigh, lips tugging into a small smile, thumbs flying.

You: Because capitalism

Channie: Capitalism sucks. Work retreats suck. I should just quit and be a kept man

You roll your eyes at his response. Chan couldn’t be a kept man if he tried. He’s an ambitious overachiever who believes in hard work and sets lofty goals for himself. Like becoming the youngest partner in his law firm’s history. He isn’t there yet, but he’s clearly on his way, from what your mutual friends Seokmin and Joshua say. Chan’s determination means it’s only a matter of time. His refusal to settle for anything less than perfection is one of the things you admire most about him. 

(It’s also the thing that keeps you from telling him your biggest secret.)

You: 🤣🤣

You: Yeah okay

You: Who’s gonna keep you? 

Channie: I was going to say you, but damn, I guess not

You: Please. I am not supporting your expensive ass

You: I’ve seen the labels on those suits you wear. I can’t afford those names

Channie: Fine. I guess I’ll go busk in the streets

Channie: What are you doing tonight?

Quickly, you snap a selfie, then fire it off. Once, you were too self-conscious to send such a photo to Chan. Back when you were first friends, when he was just a law student at the university where you were studying to get your masters. As part of your program, you worked in the library, where he was a constant fixture. 

The first time you saw him is a treasured memory you’ve revisited many times. Chan was sitting alone near the circulation desk, a dozen heavy volumes strewn about the table in front of him, dark eyes scanning the pages in front of him quickly, almost greedily, like he was reading every word as fast as he could, insatiable to devour them all. Even with his messy brown hair flying in every direction and the nervous way he kept tapping his pencil against the pages, there was this unshakable confidence in the smile that he flashed at you that let you know that he wasn’t some random student struggling to keep his head above water - he was someone who was going to go far.

Your friendship has weathered so much since then - several years of classes and internships, graduation, new apartments, new roommates, the start of relationships, the end of relationships, job after job after job until your careers finally took off - and come out the other side all the more stronger. After all this time, you’re comfortable enough to show Chan every side of you, including the one currently sitting in a pair of threadbare sweats, face caked in pink muck. 

(Every side, sure. Every feeling? Not so much.)

Channie: I don’t want to alarm you, but you’ve got something on your face

You: Hilarious. What’s on tonight’s agenda? 

Channie: Welcome mixer. The bar doesn’t open until after the CEO finishes his speech, and I think he’s going for some sort of record

You: They won’t let you drink while he talks? That seems cruel

You: You should sue. Lucky for you I know a really good lawyer

Channie: Aw, thanks

You: I meant Seok

Channie: Rude

Channie: Oh thank fuck, he’s done! Time to mingle

You: Have fun, don’t let Shua drink too much!

Chan promises that he and Seokmin will watch your lightweight friend and signs off. You toss your phone onto your nightstand and go finish your skincare routine. 

About an hour later, you hear a chime. 

Channie: YN

You: Chan

Channie: Seokmin and Joshua ditched me for some ladies from the Busan office

Channie: I have not had nearly enough to drink to make this party interesting

Channie: Save me!

It’s common for one of you to do this, send up an SOS begging the other to rescue them from terrible situations. Like that time one of your roommates dragged you to her boyfriend’s horrifically boring one-man play. You’d faked a sudden illness, Chan swooping in like a superhero to drive you home. 

Or when Chan texted you from a disastrous first date, sending up a virtual mayday signal that you answered immediately, calling back and telling him he needed to come home for a “family emergency,” even talking to his date when they insisted he put you on speakerphone. 

You’d speak to a million of Chan’s bad dates for him, no matter how awkward the calls got. You’d do anything for him. 

You: I’m not sure what I can do for you from here

Channie: I know

Channie: I wish you were here

Your chest aches. You share the same wish. 

Channie: I guess I could take advantage and try to get some face time with the CEO

You: There you go

You: Go rub elbows, whatever the fuck that means

Channie: What do I say though? 

You: Just introduce yourself, that’s all you need to do

You: Ask the bartender what he’s been drinking, grab him a refill, and introduce yourself

Channie: Oh that’s a good idea

You: Duh

You: I’m smart

Channie: You’re the best. What would I do without you?

You sigh again, sinking into your bed further. Does he have any idea the effect he has on you when he says things like that?

You: Save some of that charm for your boss

Channie: All right, time to impress

You: Just be yourself. You’re more than impressive enough

When he doesn’t respond, you assume he’s off again, but a few seconds later, he’s back. 

Channie: Seriously

Channie: I don’t deserve you

Warmth spreads through the hollow place where your heart would be, if it weren’t currently hundreds of miles away, in Chan’s very capable hands.  

You: You deserve everything you want. So go get it

Channie: You really mean that?

You: Of course

You: I just want you to be happy, Channie

Little dots appear, telling you Chan’s typing something. Whatever it is, it’s taking him a long time, and you wonder if maybe you’ve finally done it, finally tipped your hand, revealed all your cards. It’s true, though. He does deserve everything he wants. And you hope he gets it all, whatever it may be. 

(Even if it’s not you.)

Channie: You don’t know what that means to me

Your pulse begins to race. There’s so much else you could say right now. So many words just dying to get out, poised on the edge of your fingertips, begging to be set free. But in those rare moments where you’ve imagined what it would be like to finally confess your feelings to Chan, none of those fantasies ever involved texting him from hundreds of miles away. If you ever get up the nerve, you need to do it face to face. Because the pauses between his messages might actually kill you.

You: Quit stalling. Go rizz on your boss

Channie: Is that really how you want to say that

You: Gooooooo

Channie: Okay, okay! I’ll talk to you later

Channie: But

Channie: You really are the best 🥰

The smile doesn’t leave your face for long after you’ve put your phone down.

You make a snack, then put on a movie while you scroll through your various social media accounts, cycling through them with your brain fully on automatic. It’s not the most exciting evening, but it’s enough to take your mind off things. Like people you’re missing. 

A few minutes before your movie is about to reach its happy ending, a video call request flashes on your phone. It’s Seokmin, smiling as brightly as his contact photo when you answer.

“Seok?” 

“Hey, YN,” Seokmin says cheerfully. “How are you? Having a good night?” He’s holding the phone up over his head, moving it from one side to the other, looking away for a moment. “Stop it! I said I’d give it to you in a second.” He glances back at you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell.” 

“It’s fine. I’m great, Seok, what’s, uhhh, what’s up?”

“Oh, you know. The party’s over and we’re trying to get back to our rooms. But someone’s had a little too much to drink and is being a pest.” Again, he waves the phone, slapping at a hand that reaches out. “Aish, no grabbing! Where are your manners?”  

You can’t help but laugh. “Shua got out of hand again, huh?” 

“Surprise, bitch!” Joshua greets you, scowling face suddenly popping into frame. “It’s not me!”

“Hey, don’t call YN a bitch!” you hear Chan shout, and this time Seokmin’s too slow to dodge grabby hands as they wrest the phone out of his grip. Chan’s face fills the screen, eyes crinkled shut from the force of his smile. “YN! I made hyung call you so I could tell you I miss you!”

It’s like your heart is doing cartwheels. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Just like that, his brilliant smile vanishes, replaced by a pout. “This sucks. I should be at home with you.”

“Channie.” You agree with him more than you can say. But now’s not the time to tell him, not when he’s drunk, and hundreds of miles away. You take a deep breath. “I know, it’d be a lot more fun if you were here, but this is important, right? Your job is important.” 

“I guess.” There’s a pause as your friends reach Chan’s room. You giggle quietly as the two older men struggle to get Chan’s key from him, but eventually they make it inside, and Chan immediately throws himself across his bed. “But you’re more important.” 

“I am?” You blink, and suddenly your world is in freefall, but it’s just Joshua snatching the phone out of Chan’s hand. 

“Let’s get ready for bed, mmmkay, loverboy?” Joshua coos in a sugary-sweet tone. Then he shoots you a look, but it doesn’t faze you, because Joshua’s always giving you looks. “This is your fault, you know.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah, you. Aren’t you the one who gave him the idea to outdrink our boss?” 

“I - what??”

“Give me that.” Again the phone is shuffled around as Seokmin’s face fills the screen. “Ignore him, he’s cranky because he struck out with Byeol from Busan.” Joshua hisses from offscreen. “What? You did.” 

“Seok…” As amusing as it is when your friends bicker, you’re still lagging behind. “What exactly does Shua mean, that this is my fault?” 

“Oh. Well, Chan said you’d told him to impress the CEO.”

“Uh…sure, that’s kind of what I told him? I told him to take the CEO a drink and be himself. What exactly happened?” 

Seokmin laughs. “He went up to the boss with a whole bottle of whisky and introduced himself, but the man was already tipsy and mistook his offer as a drinking challenge. Turns out Chan’s not the only competitive one in the company.” Seokmin spins the camera, showing Chan laying with his feet hanging off his bed, kicking his legs and laughing as Joshua tries to remove his dress shoes. “One guess who won.” 

“Neither of you thought to stop him?”

Seokmin’s impression of Joshua’s look is uncanny. “You really think either of us could have?”

Oh, Channie. Your best friend can sometimes be frustratingly stubborn when he’s sober, digging his feet in with the strength of an ox, but he’s even worse when he’s drunk. It’s easy to imagine the scene - your two friends imploring Chan not to take any more shots, only for the younger man to throw another back, that familiar steely gaze in his eyes clear even beneath the haze of the whisky. 

You prop your head on your hand. “That’s our Chan,” you giggle, feeling a little proud of your inebriated friend. “So what did he win?” 

Seokmin snorts. “Nothing, except for the old man’s respect. Which I guess is all he wanted, so he’s pretty pleased with himself at the moment.” He reaches out to hold Chan’s leg down long enough for Joshua to slip off his remaining shoe. Chan reacts by grabbing at the phone in his other hand, and Seokmin tuts loudly. “Ah, ah, hey! We’re just trying to help you get ready for bed!”

You can’t stop laughing. “Chan-ah, listen to your hyungs!” 

Seokmin raises the phone over his head as Joshua tugs at Chan’s arms, trying to pull the younger man to his feet. But Chan responds by going limp, and you know from experience that while he looks unassuming, he packs a lot of muscle in his slight frame. Joshua seems to come to the same realization as you watch, annoyance twisting his pretty features. 

“Get up, you punk!” 

“No!” Chan pushes Joshua’s hand away and swipes at Seokmin, who yells, “Dude! Manners!” and then there’s a scramble, a blur of arms and voices clashing. You laugh, enjoying the chaos from afar, while still wishing you were there taking care of Chan right now.

“I better go, YN. Good night!” Seokmin’s voice carries over the din. You catch a quick flash of his bright grin before the call disconnects abruptly, and you’re left giggling at the black screen.

You return to your movie, but your eye keeps wandering back to your phone. Your fingers drum a distracted rhythm on your stomach.

What if you just… told him? 

After the film has long ended, you’re still staring at your phone, trying to gather your courage, only for it to begin to chirp.

“What have you done to this man?” Joshua demands when you answer, an aggravated expression on his face. 

“What are you talking about?” 

The image flips. There’s Chan, lying on top of his bed, tight black t-shirt and boxers on his lithe frame. It's not the first time you’ve seen Chan dressed in what he typically wears to bed. But it is the first time you’ve seen him look this soft in a long time, hand curling under his pillow as he nestles further into the plush bedding. It makes your heart twang painfully. 

“He won’t finish getting ready for bed until he talks to you. Said he has to tell you goodnight before he passes out.” Joshua’s nose wrinkles as he reappears on your screen. “He won’t even brush his teeth. His breath is making the room smell like a frat house.” 

“Who are you talking to?” Chan calls out. 

“Who do you think?” Joshua retorts, clicking his tongue. 

“YN!” Chan trills happily, your name sounding so sweet in his sleepy voice. “Have I told you you’re my favorite person?” He sighs. “My darling.” 

A fluttering kicks up in your chest, even as Joshua groans, making a face. You pay him no attention. Darling? When did Chan start calling you “darling”?

“Ugh, he keeps saying shit like that,” Joshua informs you. “You talk to him, he’s too pathetic for me right now.” With a sudden spin, the phone ends up back in Chan’s hand. “I’m going to go see if I can find some aspirin, because he’s gonna need it.” 

The video gets a little blurry as Chan drops onto his side on his bed. He holds the camera just a smidge too close to his face, but you’re not complaining. From his nightstand he grabs his half frame horn rimmed glasses, your favorite old pair of his that he wears when he’s had enough of his contacts. 

Chan sighs. “Do you remember when we met? When you yelled at me in the library?” 

“Hey!” you cry indignantly, but can’t stop the giggle that bubbles out of you. “I did not yell! I used my librarian voice.” 

Again, you think back to that first meeting, remembering the way you’d approached him, asking him to stop the incessant tapping of his pencil, please, in your sternest voice, only to be completely disarmed by his profuse apologies and gorgeous smile. You hadn’t even known his name at that point, but it didn’t matter. You were already in love. 

Chan mumbles something that sounds rather like “your sexy librarian voice” and suddenly your heart’s quaking hard enough to register on the Richter scale. “‘kay, fine, you didn’t yell. Doesn’t matter. I think ‘bout that a lot.” 

“You do? Why?” 

“Because.” He’s clearly fighting against sleep as he talks to you, and from the way he turns his head, lips pressing into his pillow, you get the sense that he’s losing. He says something else, but it’s muffled by the fluff, to your frustration. 

“Chan. Chan, hey!” you laugh. “I can’t hear you.” 

Chan turns his head, grinning brightly with his eyes squeezed shut. “I just knew,” he says, continuing whatever thought he just whispered to his pillow. Your lovesick mind eagerly fills in the blanks with several possibilities, all of which have your already skipping heart jumping faster.  

Joshua’s voice cuts in from offscreen. “Okay, loverboy, I found aspirin in Seokmin’s carry-on. I also brought you some water. Sit up and drink this, please.” 

As Chan moves, the image jostles, and Joshua’s all-too-knowing smirk fills the screen. “You should probably say goodnight now. I think he’s going to pass out as soon as he lays down again.” 

“Thanks for taking care of him, Shua.” 

“Yeah, sure, I don’t mind tucking him in. Though I think we both know I’m not the one who wants to be doing this,” he drawls with a raise of his eyebrow. 

“Shua.” You cover your face with your hand. Leave it to him to see through you. 

Joshua smirks. “All right, say your goodbyes, because I can’t stand his disgusting breath for one more minute.” The phone spins as it ends up back in Chan’s hand. “I’ll get your toothbrush ready.” 

Chan’s eyes are barely open as he smiles at you. “Night, YN.” 

“G’night, Channie.” 

His eyes slip shut, and you know it’s up to you to end the call, but your finger just hovers over the screen, not ready to disconnect, not ready to stop looking at Chan, at the little flutter of his lashes, the gentle curl of his lips. You never want to stop. However, there’s a loud huff from offscreen and then Joshua ends the call. You sigh, swiping the window closed.

But as you place your phone on your nightstand, it chimes one more time.

Channie: Wait i have to tell you somthung

You laugh, burrowing into your pillow further, completely endeared by how ridiculous Chan is being right now. You’re so in love. 

(And for the first time, you think maybe you’re not alone.)

You: You have to go brush your teeth! 

Channie: I will i promise

Channie: But this is importat

Channie: Impotrant

Channie: This is a big deal

You: Just say it already 😂

Channie: Ik i’m drunk but listen

Channie: Im gonna marry you one day

Channie: That’s all

Channie: Gooodnight

Channie: Sleep well

You stare at your phone, half expecting another text. When your screen goes dark, and then remains so, you nearly laugh out loud. Sleep? How are you supposed to sleep now? 

Im gonna marry you one day

Maybe it’s an alcohol-induced delirium. Maybe he won’t remember saying it, and when you tell him in the morning, he’ll apologize and explain it all away. 

Maybe. But you don’t think so. You know Chan, better than anyone else in the world. And you know that when he says he’s going to do something, he does it. 

You can’t wait to hold him to it. 

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

You check your phone for the tenth time as you stand in front of the stadium. No new messages. Relax, you tell yourself, also for the tenth time. Your best friend isn’t the type to flake out on you. 

“Ohmygod you’re hereeeeeee!!!” 

Miyeon is the type to screech in excitement at the top of her lungs, though, no matter what the setting, or the annoyed expressions of the baseball fans around her as they stream into the ballpark. It might bother others, but it never bothered you how animated Miyeon gets. While others might operate on a scale between one to ten, her base setting is dialed up to eleven. 

Right now, she’s probably at a fifteen, bounding energetically towards you with a giant grin on her gorgeous face and her arms outstretched. You return the smile, but don’t return the hug so much as let yourself get swept away in her embrace. The two of you giggle as you nearly topple over onto the cement beneath your feet. 

“Of course I’m here, you’re the chronically late one, remember?” you chide her teasingly when you manage to extricate yourself from her hug. 

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting!” Miyeon apologies. She means it genuinely, just like she does every time. “I got caught up chatting with one of the guards at the gate. It’s her son’s birthday today, so I told her I could get her a signed ball from Seokmin if she wanted, as a gift.” 

“Is she a friend of yours?” 

“Nope.” Miyeon pops the ‘p’ as she shakes her head. “Met her on my way in.” 

“Then how do you know it’s her son’s birthday?”

“Oh, we just got to talking, you know how it goes!” 

You don’t, in fact, know how a conversation with a total stranger leads one to promising an autographed ball from a player, but that’s Miyeon for you. Truthfully, the concept of a “stranger” doesn’t exist in her world - everyone is either her friend, or her friend-in-waiting. 

“Do you usually go around offering Seokmin’s autograph to random people?” 

Miyeon shrugs. “I mean, what’s the point of being married to the team’s star pitcher if you can’t make some little kid’s dreams come true?” She links her arm through yours and gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s find our seats. I need a beer asap.” 

It’s been a long time since you’ve been inside a baseball stadium voluntarily. When you were a kid, your dad loved to take you to the local summer league’s games in a sweet but misguided attempt at bonding. Instead of finding the sport interesting, you found it to be excruciatingly boring - not to mention slow. After the first time, you learned to bring a book with you for entertainment. 

Even though you’ve never been inside this particular stadium, it feels very familiar, and you’re hit with a sense of déjà vu, like you’ve stepped back in time to one of those hot summer afternoons. Fans mill around you, decked out in their colorful jerseys and hats. The smell of hot dogs and popcorn wafts towards you from the concession stands as Miyeon leads you down through the rows of seats towards a section right between home plate and the home team’s dugout. 

The home team. If Miyeon heard you referring to the Diamonds that way, she’d remind you quickly that this is your team now. It’s been two months since you moved to this city, and you need to start thinking of it as your home now. You’ll get there. In the meantime, Miyeon’s made herself the driver of your personal welcome wagon, and this is the first stop. 

When she’d first asked you to join her for the opening game of the season, you’d nearly laughed her out of the room, until she explained that her intent was to introduce you to her friends. As the new girl in town, you’re in no position to turn down an opportunity to meet some people. Plus, she offered to buy you some drinks, and only a fool turns down free booze. 

You did have to talk yourself out of bringing a book, though. 

“How far down are we going?” you ask as the two of you continue to descend. You’ve never sat so close to the field before - your dad could only ever afford nosebleed seats. 

“Oh, all the players’ partners sit down in the first row,” Miyeon replies. 

“Wow, do you get to sit down here for free?” 

Miyeon just laughs in reply, then she smiles brightly. “Oh good, everyone’s already here! Come on, you’ve got to meet them all!” 

There’s a tiny spike of nerves at the thought of meeting new people - no matter how old you get, you always feel like the odd new kid on the first day of school - but you quickly tamp them down when Miyeon squeezes your arm again reassuringly. She’s always been able to read your emotions like they’re written on your face in ink visible only to her. It’s uncanny sometimes. 

“Don’t worry, they’re going to love you,” she says, and then she raises her free arm. “Jihyo! Momo! Hiiiiii!” 

Heads turn as your friend trills a greeting, and then several of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen in your life lift their hands in friendly waves. Miyeon pushes you in front of her, and starts rattling off names.

“YN, this is Jihyo, Momo, Wonwoo, and Yuqi. Everyone, this is YN.” 

Everyone says hello as you take your seat between Miyeon and Jihyo, feeling a bit embarrassed like you’re facing down the popular kids, which is 100% the vibe Miyeon’s friends give off. “Uh, hi, everyone. It’s nice to meet you all.” 

“Oh, Mi, you were right, she’s so cute!” Momo says, glancing you up and down. You’re not entirely sure what to say to that, laughing a little in your confusion, and Jihyo shakes her head. 

“Don’t mind her. It’s Momo’s favorite holiday today, so she’s being extra extra.” 

“Holiday?” Do people treat the opening day of baseball as a holiday? It’s just a random day in April, as far as you’re concerned.

“First day of hunting season,” Momo replies. She mimes cocking a rifle, aiming at the field. “Let the games begin!” 

You glance at Miyeon, who fills you in. “Momo’s what they used to call a ‘cleat chaser.’ Or, like, a groupie. You know, someone who likes to sleep with baseball players.” 

“Though technically, doesn’t that describe all of us?” Wonwoo interjects, stretching out his hand. “Hi, I’m Wonwoo. I’m married to number 11, Chan. He’s the shortstop.” 

“I’m dating number 7, Minghao,” Yuqi adds with a sweet smile. She points him out on the field, gesturing to where two men are standing near first base and talking. “That’s him there.”

“And I’m married to that hottie right next to him, Mingyu!” Jihyo informs you. She cups her hands around her mouth and startles you with her incredible volume. “GYU BABY, LET’S GO!!” 

The taller of the two men looks up and grins before blowing a kiss towards the stands. A third man joins them, and this one, you recognize. 

“There’s my baby!” Miyeon coos, waving at Seokmin, who holds his hands in the shape of a heart over his chest and mimes it beating. 

“Are you single, YN?” Momo suddenly asks. “Miyeon didn’t mention if you were.” 

“Oh, um, yes,” you reply, a little caught off guard. You weren’t expecting to discuss your dating life - or lack thereof - within the first three minutes of meeting Miyeon’s friends. 

‘Oh good! Wait - are you into men?” 

“Mo, how about we get the girl a drink before you start inquiring about her sexual orientation?” Miyeon shields her eyes with her hand as she glances up and down the rows of seats. “Has anyone seen the beer vendor yet? Did I miss him?” 

Momo sighs. Jihyo pats her hand kindly. “You can’t really get mad at Mo, it’s been ages since she had any single friends to objectify the players with. She’s surrounded by old marrieds - yes, that includes you, Yuqi, you’ve been dating Hao for what, three years now?” 

“Three years of bliss, yes, that’s right.” Yuqi nods. “We’re in no rush to get married.”

Wonwoo hums. “You and Hao don’t need to get married if you don’t want to. You’ve got nothing to prove.” 

“I don’t objectify men,” Momo pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. “I treat them like people.” 

“I know, babe. I’m exaggerating for effect.” Jihyo says, rubbing her friend’s arm. Their dynamic reminds you a lot of you and Miyeon’s. You can understand why she’s drawn to their energy. 

The elusive beer vendor makes his appearance, bellowing about cold beer for sale, and Miyeon flags him down. Once everyone has a bottle in hand, she lifts hers in an impromptu toast. 

“Here’s to new seasons - and new beginnings!” 

You clink the neck of your bottle against hers. New beginnings are what brought you to this city in the first place. Fed up with a stagnant career and a pending rent increase on your shoebox of an apartment, you’d made the leap to a new job in a new city. At least here, you have Miyeon to support you if things fall through. The last few years have taken you and your childhood best friend in different directions - but being here in the same city now means a chance to reconnect and be more present in each other’s lives.

The afternoon sun starts to dip as the game begins. Baseball hasn’t changed much since you were younger - it’s still a fairly slow game. You don’t mind it so much today, being amused by Miyeon’s friends and their conversations. Not that they’re only here to socialize. They’re paying attention to what’s happening on the field. You do your best to keep up when they start talking about baseball, but it doesn’t really matter if you know the difference between a changeup and a curveball - you get enough to understand their enthusiasm for the game.

“This year’s prospects are looking pretty good,” Miyeon comments during the bottom of the fifth inning, as the visiting team takes the bat. 

“I’ll say,” Momo hums, gesturing with her bottle at the second baseman. “Who’s on second? He’s pretty.” 

“I meant the team’s prospects for winning,” Miyeon rolls her eyes. “That’s Seungkwan. He just got traded from a farm team in Tacoma.” 

“Is Tacoma known for their bakeries? Because that boy has some serious cake.” 

You turn your attention to the second baseman and confirm Momo’s assessment - the man does indeed have a booty. At that moment, a batter for the visiting team hits a ball deep into the right outfield. There’s a player on first base, who takes off running for second. The right outfielder chasing the ball scoops it up and tosses it to Seungkwan, who catches it right before the runner reaches second. Seungkwan and the outfielder, who wears number 30, bump fists in a small celebration. Number 30 takes his hat off to wipe his brow, and… huh. That profile is familiar….

Wait a minute… is that…? 

“YN. Hello?” 

Miyeon snaps her fingers in front of your eyes, and you blink a few times. “What?” 

She frowns. “Where did you just go? I was asking what you’re doing after this.” 

You shrug. “I still have some stuff to unpack, but I’m okay with doing that later. Or never.” 

“After home games, we usually go out for food. Sometimes the guys join us, if they don’t have to be up too early the next day. There’s a place not far from here called Ruby’s Tavern - it’s kind of a hole in the wall, but the food’s really good.” 

“And the owner’s pretty cute,” Momo adds. 

“And he gives us free drinks!” Jihyo grins. “You should come with us!”

There’s another big play on the field - a pop-up caught by Number 30. He throws it to the catcher, who promptly tags out a runner trying to steal home, and that brings it to three outs to end the inning. The players head for their dugouts. 

Wonwoo puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles. “Great catch, Joshua!” 

Number 30 glances up into the stands. He beams brightly, taking his hat off to bow playfully at Wonwoo. 

Wait, did he say Joshua? Wait. Wait. 

“The outfield’s looking pretty strong to start this year,” Wonwoo remarks. 

“I think Joshua’s been working out.” Momo taps a finger on her bottle. “His biceps weren’t that big last year - I would’ve noticed. He would’ve made my list.” 

“He’s been hitting the gym hard with Gyu,” Jihyo states. “Him and Hao both, actually, right Yuqi?”

“Mmmmhmmmm,” Yuqi hums, staring at her boyfriend with a dreamy expression, making the rest of you giggle. She catches herself and blushes, taking a swig of her beer. 

“He’s clearly been putting in the work,” Momo says, still staring at Joshua. “What’s his status? Single?”

“Last I heard, he wasn’t seeing anyone. Oh!” Miyeon turns to you. “You might have met him at the reception! Joshua Hong, does that name ring any bells?” 

Oh, bells are ringing for you all right. Alarm bells. Miyeon’s question confirms it for you. That’s definitely the Joshua you met the night of her wedding reception. And then took back to your room.

The same man who disappeared in the early hours of the morning after, leaving not a trace behind, save for a slightly warm pillow and the crushing sense that you weren’t even worthy of a goodbye.

“Ummm, yeah, I think I remember seeing him there.” You stare out at the field, unseeing. Too lost in the memory of that night. “I didn’t know he was Seokmin’s teammate.” That topic of conversation surprisingly hadn’t come up. Probably because you’d been a little busy doing other things, things you don’t typically do with someone you’d met only a few hours earlier. 

You can’t see Joshua while he’s down in the dugout, but when you close your eyes, there he is, dressed to kill in a sharply tailored suit, staring down at you on the bed…. Quickly, you open your eyes and take a swig of your beer, wishing you could just wash the memories away with each sip. 

Thankfully, your best friend is too distracted by the game to pay very close attention to your mood right now. 

“Yeah, he was there. He was one of the few who could make it - “

“I’m sorry we couldn’t be there!” Yuqi blurts out, and Miyeon responds by waving her off. 

“Girl, I know, you don’t have to keep apologizing!” Miyeon laughs. “It’s really okay.” 

“He’ll probably be at Ruby’s,” Jihyo mentions, raising an eyebrow at you. “But Mo might fight you for him.” 

“Please, I’d never fight another woman for a man,” Momo scoffs. “Men aren’t worth the effort. Present company excluded,” she adds, glancing at Wonwoo. 

“Honored,” Wonwoo replies drily, but he can’t suppress a tiny smile. 

While Miyeon’s friends banter around you, you sit silently, mulling your options. If Joshua’s going to be at the tavern, you’re not sure you want to go. It’s been almost a year since Miyeon and Seokmin’s reception. You’d thought you were over that night, but seeing him again now is stirring up feelings long buried. Like embarrassment. 

And shame. 

On the other hand, you’re enjoying hanging out with Miyeon’s crowd. You don’t really want to go home to your box-filled apartment yet. Also, you’re getting hungry. Maybe Joshua won’t even be there, and you won’t have to figure out what to say to a man who couldn’t even wait until dawn to leave you behind. 

Before much longer, the game is over. The Diamonds win, and Miyeon and Jihyo cheer louder than anyone else in the stadium. As the teams clear the field, your best friend turns to you. 

“Well? Are you in for dinner?” 

Everyone else  is waiting for your answer with hopeful expressions, and that makes your decision for you. You’re having too much fun with your new friends to go home now. Besides, you can handle running into Joshua, can’t you? You’ll just play it cool - something you’ve never really been all that great at, but hey, new job, new city, new you, right?

“Yeah, sure, let’s go.”

Miyeon leads your group through the crush of fans leaving the rows around you, climbing up the steps of the stadium to where you’d entered by the concession stands. Instead of heading for the exit, she heads for an unmarked door that’s being guarded by an imposing looking man with the word “security” emblazoned on his shirt and biceps the size of watermelons. 

“Hey Changbin,” Miyeon greets him. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a pass hanging from a lanyard. “Having a good night?” 

“Can’t complain,” the security guard replies. For someone so tough-looking, he has a shockingly sweet smile. “Thanks again for the baseball, my nephew loved it.” 

“I told you he would! Hey, is it okay if my friend here comes down with me? This is YN, you’ll probably be seeing her around here a lot.” 

“He will?” 

Changbin gives you a once-over. “Sure, just keep an eye on her down there,” he says. You wonder if he’s saying that because he has to, or whether you actually look like someone who might get up to trouble if left to her own devices. 

The door leads to a stairwell with nondescript cement walls that provide no hint as to where you’re headed. One by one, Miyeon and her friends enter, but Momo hangs back. 

“See you soon!” she says with a little wave. 

“Wait, where are we going?” you ask, following your best friend down a flight of stairs to a set of double doors that are also unmarked. 

“To the locker room to get our men - what did you think?”  

“Oh. Right.” Makes sense, but you feel a slight sense of panic suddenly. What if Joshua’s still in there? You fake a laugh in response, earning yourself a curious look from your friend, but luckily at that moment, you turn a bend in the hallway and come face to face with Mingyu.

“There’s my baby!” Mingyu calls out, and Jihyo squeals, throwing her arms around her husband’s neck and kissing him.

You look away from their public display of affection, watching Wonwoo walk through the double-door entrance to the locker room behind Mingyu. After a few seconds, he returns.

“Coast’s clear,” he says. Yuqi and Miyeon file past you, and your friend notes the question on your face. 

“Wonwoo checks for naked players for us,” she explains. “We don’t want to intrude on anyone’s privacy. Also? We don’t want to see that.” 

“Yeah,” Yuqi pipes up, “we see enough balls during the game.” 

“Ba-dum-tiss,” Wonwoo says, mimicking a rimshot on an imaginary drum set. 

The double doors open onto a wall painted with a mural of the team’s baffling mascot, Carat, who has a diamond for a head but the body of a man. To the left of the mural is a doorway marked “Showers,” and to the right, a doorway marked “Lockers.” You follow the group into the room on the right.

As soon as you enter, you freeze. There are men everywhere, in various states of undress, talking and laughing. A few of them look at you curiously, and you suddenly feel shy and overwhelmed and completely out of place among these strangers. 

“Um, I’m gonna wait outside,” you say, retreating to the entrance. The others have all disappeared, so you’re just talking to yourself as you back out of the room.

“Peach?” 

Only one person has ever called you that. You turn around slowly, as if delaying the inevitable could also prevent it. It doesn’t work, of course, and there stands Joshua, freshly showered, wet hair pushed back, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and a look of surprise on his face.

Oh, this isn’t awkward at all, finally coming face to face with the man who ghosted you months ago. You glance over his shoulder, trying to calculate the distance to the door, so you can run out of here and out onto the diamond to lie down and wait for death. Sacrificing yourself to the tarp monster would be less painful than this moment for sure. 

Joshua seems as shocked to see you as you felt when you identified him on the field earlier. You have to force yourself to stop staring at his handsome face. Unfortunately, your gaze is drawn immediately to his bare biceps, glistening in the locker room lighting like he’s in a bodywash commercial. You catch a whiff of sandalwood and for a second your knees weaken as the memories wash over you again.

“That’s it - tell me how it feels, Peach.”

You clear your throat. “Joshua, hey.” That’s all you’ve got. Guess it’s better than nothing.

“I thought I was seeing things for a second.” His smile brightens, and you don’t like this, being caught off guard while he’s happy (?) to see you. Maybe pleased is a more accurate description. Whatever it is, it just keeps you feeling off-kilter. “What are you - why are you here?” 

That’s a fair question, as you’ve caught him by surprise. But it stings a little, so you raise your shields, crossing your arms over your chest and laughing. 

“Wow, it’s nice to see you too.” You glance at the doorway to the locker room. What is taking Miyeon so long to find her husband?

Joshua shakes his head. “Sorry, I just meant - hi. It’s been a while.” 

“Sure has.” 

He blink at your short response. “Yeah… well, it is nice to see you, anyway. I didn’t expect to see you here, obviously.” His smile returns. “Are you visiting Miyeon?” 

You’re so shaken by the awkwardness of the situation that you start to nod before realizing. “Actually, I - “

“Hey, Joshua!” As if she heard your silent distress call earlier, Miyeon appears at your side. “I was hoping you hadn’t left yet.” She throws her arm around your shoulders. “Do you remember my friend, YN, from our reception? She just moved here!” 

“Oh, uh…” Joshua glances at you in confusion, and you jump in before he can string together the rest of his sentence.

“I don’t think we got the chance,” you say, holding out your hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Joshua.” You speak firmly - careful not to emphasize too hard to draw Miyeon’s attention, but enough for him to hopefully pick up what you’re implying.

He stares at you for half a second too long before shaking your hand. “Uh, yeah, nice to meet you too.” 

“Anyways, is my husband in there?” Miyeon nods towards the showers. “He wasn’t at his locker.”

Joshua’s slow to turn his head, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he looks away. The irony almost makes you laugh. “I think so, hold on.” 

He ducks back into the room, shouting Seokmin’s name, while Miyeon inspects you closely. 

“Why is your vibe off right now?”

Damn it. “No reason.” 

Her face says she doesn’t believe you. You sigh. It’s been hard keeping this a secret from your best friend. At the time it happened, it hurt so much just to think about what happened that you didn’t feel like talking about it with her, picking it apart and examining it from every angle like you were both wont to do. There was no harm in not telling Miyeon, you decided - after all, you were convinced that you’d never see Joshua again. 

Goes to show what you know.

“Look, I’ll tell you later,” you hiss, miming a cutting motion over your throat just as Joshua reappears, with Seokmin on his heels. Your friend immediately launches herself at her husband, who catches her with a blinding grin before covering her face in obnoxiously loud kisses. 

“Ucch. Newlyweds.” Joshua makes a face and the sheer goofiness of it makes you laugh involuntarily. You manage to catch yourself, but not before he smiles, and oh, that look on his face, it just sends you back to that night again, to the moment when he’d escorted you to your room after the party ended…

“Is this your big closing move? Carrying girls to their rooms?” you tease him playfully as you reach for your shoes in his hand. 

Instead of letting go of them, he yanks slightly, and you tumble into him. A startled laugh bursts out of you, and he gives you a self-satisfied smirk, wrapping his arms around your waist while you steady yourself with your hands on his chest. Oh, he’s hot and smooth, which is unfortunately a very dangerous combination for you.

“Depends. Did it work?” He leans closer, his lips barely inches from your own, and drops his voice down to a low whisper. “Can I come inside?”

But you steady yourself with a deep breath and smile like you agree. His smile is tinged with something like fondness, and it’s weirdly agitating, so you clear your throat again. “Mi, are we ready to go now, orrrrr…”

“Yeah, no, we’re ready,” Miyeon says, turning to face you. Seokmin wraps himself around her, enveloping her in a bear hug with her back pressed to his chest, and for a second you’re filled with so much longing it nearly makes you sick. Not for Seokmin - you adore your best friend’s husband but in the most platonic of ways - but for what they have together. It doesn’t help that you’re a little touch-starved at the moment. 

Nor does it help that Joshua’s standing next to you so close that you can actually feel his body heat radiating from his bare skin. You shift away from him slightly before your hunger drives you insane. 

“Hey YN!” Seokmin greets you. “I was really happy to hear you were coming to the game today! What did you think?” 

“She’ll give you a full recap over dinner,” Miyeon promises him, winking at you. She can tell you’re antsy to get going, the way you’re slowly edging towards the entrance (and away from Joshua). “Let’s get going before Momo gives up on us. She’s saving our tables.”

You let out a small sigh, but your sense of relief is short-lived. You forgot one crucial detail - Miyeon’s conviviality is only outmatched by her husband’s. He can never pass up an opportunity for a friendly invitation.

As you and Miyeon head for the entrance, Seokmin turns to Joshua. “We’re heading to Ruby’s for some food - you wanna come along?” 

Joshua’s eyes bounce to you, and immediately you know you’re not getting out of this easily. “Sure, yeah. I’m in.” 

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The garland hung limply from one end of the curtain rod, the ornaments were strewn all over the carpet, and tonight’s main courses sat on the counter, silently judging you for not having the oven preheated yet.

And then your phone buzzed with a reminder.

“Shit, I have to pick up the focaccia I ordered before the store closes,” you groaned, already grabbing your coat. “The cake…” You grabbed the dishes off the counter and shoved them back in the fridge. As it shut, your palm hit your face as you recalled yet another task. “Ugh, fuck—I still have to wrap the presents—”

He stepped in front of you, hands on your shoulders, squeezing gently. “Baby. Breathe.”

“I am breathing,” you snapped, even though you absolutely weren’t.

Mingyu knew not to take offense at your tone. You were already drowning, yet stubbornly in denial about it.

“Tell me what I can do to help,” he urged gently.

“No, no, no,” you said instantly, shaking your head. You realized you’d bitten off more than you could chew, but you weren’t about to drag him into the chaos you’d created. “You worked overtime all week. I’m not making you do holiday errands on your first legitimate day off.”

He gave you a look. It was a bit skeptical, but with plenty of affection. He pressed on, “Just tell me what to do and—”

You rose on your tiptoes and planted a quick but distracted kiss on him. “I appreciate that, but it’s fine. I won’t be out long anyway! I’ll have plenty of time to finish everything when I get back.”

“Sure you will,” he muttered to himself.

You narrowed your eyes. “I heard that,” you yelled past your shoulder.

He chuckled and pressed a hand over his chest. “I promise, I said that with love.”

You smiled at him fondly. “I know.” You blew him a kiss, grabbed your keys, and pulled the door open. But before stepping out, you pointed at him—a warning gesture that made him bite back a laugh—then rushed out, leaving behind a trail of your half-finished tasks.

The second the lock clicked, he puffed his cheeks, then exhaled a laugh.

“Alright,” he murmured, rolling up his sleeves and resting his hands on his hips as he assessed the festive crime scene in front of him. “Let’s see what kind of trouble you left me.”

******************

He started with the garlands you’d abandoned, hanging them up and stepping back to admire how they framed the windows. Next came the ornaments, which he placed in perfectly staggered positions on the tree—paying extra care with the ones that held special meaning for both of you.

He even fluffed the tree skirt, which he knew you’d appreciate more than you’d admit.

Then there was the cleaning. He wiped down counters, vacuumed, folded your throw blankets, and fluffed pillows on the couch. He lit the holiday-scented candles you’d bought on sale last week because you’d claimed it would make the house smell like a Hallmark movie.

He took the main dishes you’d put back in the fridge and set them in the oven to cook. They’d be done shortly after the guests arrived, so at least they wouldn’t be waiting too long for dinner.

Finally, the presents.

Thankfully, you’d already labeled each one with sticky notes. They just needed wrapping before everyone arrived. He headed down to the basement to grab the tote where you stored all your gift-wrapping supplies and got to work.

He grimaced at his less-than-perfect wrapping job, but he used minimal tape this time and did his best to create neat, sharp corners on each box.

By the time he finished, the house looked like a Pinterest board—warm, cozy, and inviting. All it needed now were your guests.

He had just flopped onto the couch when he heard the lock chime unlock.

“Bub?” you called past the pile of boxes and trays you held in your arms. “You’ll never guess—”

You froze.

Your eyes swept the room. The garlands. The tree. The spotless kitchen. The oven timer beeping. The candles flickering in the background.

Then your eyes landed on him—walking toward you to take the bags and trays you had and set them down on the counter. Your mouth was agape as he brushed past you to check on the food he had roasting in the oven.

“Oh my god! Where’s all my stuff?”

He shut the oven door, lowering the temperature, and turned to you with a chuckle. “You looked like you were going crazy earlier. I just thought I’d do a couple things to help you out before you got home.”

He more than did a couple of things. He’d accomplished nearly every major task you hadn’t done. A pang of guilt hit you. “But I told you not to,” you whined, still clinging onto stubbornness.

“I know.” He pulled you in for a hug. “But you also know I do the opposite of what I’m told sometimes,” he joked.

You leaned back, arched an eyebrow, lips quirking to one side. “That you do.”

“And,” he added, planting a kiss on the crown of your head and grinning, “…you just look so cute when you’re overwhelmed.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “You’re so weird.”

“Weird, but also reliable.”

A slow smile spread across your lips. “Hard agree.” You leaned in to kiss him. It was only meant to be a quick, grateful press to his lips, but the moment they touched, it shifted. The kiss deepened, lingering before turning hungry—a quiet acknowledgment of the desire he sparked in you. It was impossible to resist him, especially when he anticipated your needs so perfectly, handling things before you even had to ask. He just knew. You pulled back, eyes raking him from top to bottom, catching the sheen of sweat on his neck. Your voice lowered. “I feel like I need to thank you properly.” His grin turned devilish as your fingers drifted to the button of your jeans. “Oh?”

“We’ve got another hour or so before people show up,” you teased. You hooked your thumbs under the hem of your top, lifting it slowly, deliberately stopping just below the curve of your breasts. “Unless—” you narrowed your eyes, “you’re too tired, of course?”

You made a show of smoothing your top back down and re-fastening your jeans, but his hand covered yours to stop you. “You know I’m never too tired for you.” His voice was a low growl, his eyes darkening with desire.

Your lips curved into a slow, teasing smile. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Tell me what you had in mind.” His voice was soft but thick with anticipation.

“Well,” you began, backing away toward the couch and pulling your top over your head. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll show you?” You tossed the fabric aside, his eyes following your every movement.

“I like it already,” he said, biting his lower lip as his eyes roamed over your body. His breath hitched, and you could see the rise and fall of his chest quickening.

You shushed him, your voice firm. “No more talking.” You tilted your head toward the sofa, keeping a straight face. “Sit. And keep your hands to yourself.” You watched as he obeyed, sinking onto the couch, his muscles taut with restraint.

He did exactly as he was told, sinking onto the couch obediently. You could see the conflict behind his eyes—the urge to grab you, to worship you, devour you. His raw instincts wrestling with his self-control.

He knew that look in your eyes. You wanted this to be on your terms, your pace. You wanted to take your time. He had no choice but to ball his fists at his sides, summoning everything within him to restrain himself. And wait for your next instructions. His chest heaved with each breath, his body trembling with the effort of staying still.

“You defied me earlier.”

You saw worry cross his face, a flicker of fear that he might have disappointed you.

“…but you still did good for me today. So I think you deserve a reward.” You let your words hang in the air, watching as his expression shifted from concern to excitement.

He smiled proudly, his eyes showing a mix of excitement and gratitude.

“Would you like your present early?”

He nodded—slow at first, then eager.

You reached behind to flick open your bra clasp, shrugging the straps from your shoulders. The fabric dropped at your feet, and you heard the low growl that rumbled in his chest. His eyes widened, and you could see the vein in his neck pulsing frantically.

You slid your bottoms down, stepping out of them and leaving them in a pile on the floor. Completely bare, you moved forward, nudging his legs apart with your knee. You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear. “I think you earned it,” you whispered, feeling his sharp intake of breath against your skin.

He could barely contain the excitement brimming within his chest. He watched as you sank to your knees, eyes fixed on the bulge straining against his pants.

You leaned forward, lifted his shirt slightly, then pressed a soft kiss to his stomach just below his navel. His muscles tensed in anticipation. You dragged his waistband down. He lifted his hips, helping you pull his bottoms off.

You wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock and he let out a low hiss, his head falling back against the cushions. You stroked him slowly, your thumb smearing the bead of moisture over the sensitive tip. “I love seeing you like this,” you whispered as you watched him squirm helplessly from your touch.

Leaning down, you flicked your tongue over the tip. His hips jerked, a whimper escaping his lips. You smiled, continuing to explore every inch of him. You traced the underside, then took him into your mouth, sucking gently.

His hand found its way into your hair, his fingers tangling through the strands. “God, yes,” his voice strained with pleasure.

You relaxed your throat, taking him in deeper, bobbing your head, your hand working in tandem with your mouth, finding the perfect rhythm. The desperate moans he made let you know his control was slipping. Unable to stand it, his hips began to thrust up slowly to meet your mouth, seeking more.

“Please,” he breathed out. “Wanna see you.” It drove him wild seeing his cock slip in and out of your mouth.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes heavy-lidded as stuttered breaths escaped his parted lips.

The sight of him losing it spurred you on, sending a surge of heat deep in your belly. You increased your pace, taking him as deep as you could, your free hand sliding up the plane of his abdomen. Your fingers danced over his ribs, nails scraping lightly against his warm skin. The shiver that shot through his body was a thrill you felt all the way to your core.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his grip in your hair tightening. “Slow down, baby.”

You ignored his pleas, taking him deeper, determined to push him right to the brink. But he overpowered you easily, his hands wrapping around your arms to pull you up and off him, pulling you onto his lap.

“My turn.” He crushed his mouth to yours. His hands cupped your face, stroking your jaw, before sliding down your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him. His hard length pressed directly against your clit, and you couldn’t stop the instinctive roll of your hips.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he confessed. “Watching you pace, all wound up… so fucking sexy,” he rasped against your lips, nipping at them. “I wanted to bend you over the counter right then.”

“Then quit talking about and do it,” you challenged, your hands tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging just enough to make him groan.

He shook his head gently. Not just yet. His eyes drifted down to the evidence of your arousal, slick and smeared against your inner thigh. “Sit on my face.”

Before the words registered, he’d already hoisted you up, sliding lower on the couch to make room. You swung a leg over, crouching on either side of his head, your hands bracing against the wall for balance.

“Relax. I’ve got you,” he murmured, his hands firm on your ass. He nudged you down, urging you to rest your weight on his elbows as he supported your back, holding you perfectly level with his waiting mouth.

You let out a deep moan at the first lick. It was light. Too light. A delicate flick of his tongue that was over too soon. The second was even lighter, barely a flutter against your sensitive flesh that craved more. A little payback for your earlier teasing.

But unlike you, Mingyu preferred instant gratification. With a low groan, he abandoned all pretense of control, leaning in to wrap his mouth around your clit and sucking hard.

Your forehead pressed against the wall, your knees buckling as pleasure shot through you. He was relentless, his hold on you firm as he ravished you. You began to rut your hips, grinding against his mouth as his fingers dug into the flesh of your back.

“Yes…just like that. Don’t stop—ah!” You gasped when a sharp smack landed on your ass. You looked down just in time to see him smirking up at you from between your thighs.

Cocky motherfucker.

You yelped again when his hand landed on the other cheek. This time, the sting sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, your insides clenching as you teetered on the edge.

Mingyu shifted, guiding your knees down to rest on the cushions. Comfortably balancing your weight on one hand, his free hand snaked between your legs, his fingers replacing his tongue to rub circles on your clit.

“Oh my god,” you sobbed, your legs shaking violently as your release crested. Your hand slipped from the wall, blindly reaching for his shoulder to keep yourself from collapsing. Then your body went rigid. A drawn-out groan tore from your throat as your core seized, your orgasm overwhelming you in a blinding wave of pleasure.

Your body felt like mush, barely registering him sliding you from his lap and maneuvering you onto all fours on the couch. You were still hazy from the aftermath of your climax when he gripped your hips from behind. He took a moment, angling you just right, and with the slick from your orgasm, he glided into you in a single smooth thrust.

You both moaned at the sensation, relishing in the feel of how your bodies fit perfectly. He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust, but you were already pushing back, desperate for more.

“That’s my greedy girl,” he chuckled darkly.

He began to move, his strokes long and deep, each one hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. You gripped the sofa’s armrest for leverage, your knuckles white.

His hand reached around, finding your already-sensitive clit. You choked out a whimper as he rubbed tight, measured circles. Your inner walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper.

The room was filled with the lewd, wet sounds of your passion. The slap of skin against skin, breathless moans, low grunts of pleasure. It was a raw, primal symphony that consumed you both, sending you higher and higher until you were sure the fall would shatter you to pieces.

“Come on, baby,” he bit out, his rhythm faltering as his own release barreled down on him. “Give me one more.”

That was the trigger. Inhaling sharply, you came completely undone for him.

This orgasm washed over you—slow, but more intense than the last, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him. Your name was a hoarse groan on his lips as he followed closely behind, his body shuddering as he spilled himself into you.

For a long beat, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths, slowly steadying into a calm, satiated rhythm. He rolled off, pulling you into his arms and tucking you against his chest.

“I guess I should get stressed out more often,” you murmured, a contented smile playing on your lips.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “If you do that, I’m gonna have to up my hydration.”

You giggled, smacking his chest playfully. “Please. You did just fine.”

His smile faded, turning more serious now. “Listen, I know you like doing things your way, and that’s fine. I’ll give you space.” He brushed the damp strands of hair away from your sweat-slicked forehead, his touch infinitely gentle. “But don’t forget I’ll always be here to help you. Whatever you need, just ask.”

You knew he was right. He was perfectly capable if you’d just let him. “Okay,” you nodded.

“Plus,” he added, a sly lilt in his voice, “you know I like it when you boss me around.”

You lifted your head and found him smiling knowingly, that dark glint back in his eyes.

“If that’s the case, let me do the chores and just focus on doing me instead,” you grinned.

He threw his head back and laughed—a deep laugh that set your body alight. “Deal,” he replied.

“But you’re still on laundry duty.”

He guffawed, pulling you in for another kiss. “Yes, ma’am!”

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