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Faux Colors

chapter 21

apt. 58

Synopsis; one lives in a world under the weight of shadows the other lives in a world that screams.

"The sky is blue like Sacrifice by Elton John"

warnings; swearing, heavy themes pairing; jeongguk × female reader genre; angst, slowburn, smut, fwb word count; 11.9k

a/n: hello. chapter longer than the usual (i got carried away) please don’t expect me to deliver like this everytime i’m scared of disappointment.

anyways. HOLY SHIT. we almost have 3k on wattpad??? thank you?? let me show you my gratitude by delivering smut. i need an exorcism after writing this, i feel.

as always, i’m awaiting your comments / theories / complaints. i’m dying to hear it. i thrive on conversations about my work. i think i edited and re-edited this so many times i’m desensitised to whatever i wrote lol.

enjoy! <3

—

Fuck.

You didn't sober up, not even 1%. The cool air didn't help. You still wanted him, maybe even more than before.

It was so weird. Alcohol definitely amplified something. You didn't know if it was the desperate need for him to erase anything that lingered from Minho, or the raw, heavy want of feeling good under his hands again.

You wanted him, simply put.

But now you had to act more sober than you were because Sora and Jimin were approaching you, with an additional woman perched between them.

You desperately tried to blink the glassy, overstimulated sheen out of your eyes, forcing your shoulders back as the trio navigated the dimly lit path of the inner garden. The twenty-minute countdown Jeongguk had left ringing in your ears was already ticking down, and the absolute last thing you needed was your friends staging an intervention while your blood was still humming with his name.

"Wait a second," Sora muttered, stepping a fraction closer. Her sharp eyes scanned your face in the dim lighting of the courtyard, narrowing as they locked onto your cheeks. "Are those... tear stains? Y/N, have you been crying?"

The question hung heavily in the air. You subconsciously shifted, your skin still burning under the memory of the friction where you’d hurriedly wiped away the wetness earlier.

"I saw Minho," you admitted quietly, the name tasting heavy and uninviting on your tongue.

Instantly, both Jimin and Sora exchanged a sharp, knowing glance. The atmospheric temperature between them seemed to drop in a split second.

"Where is that asshole?" Jimin demanded, his jaw tightening as his eyes immediately flicked toward the glass doors of the main hall, looking ready to hunt him down.

"It doesn’t matter," you tried to tune him down, raising a hand slightly to keep him from making a scene. "Seriously, Jimin. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore." You needed the focus off your breakdown, and fast. The twenty-minute clock in your head was ticking, and you couldn't afford to get dragged into a post-mortem about your ex.

Turning your head away from your friends' burning gazes, you looked directly at the curly-headed woman standing patiently beside them. "Hi," you offered, forcing your voice into the most stable, polite register you could muster.

She offered a warm smile, her curls bouncing slightly as she extended a hand. "Hi. I’m Sophia. It’s really nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," you replied, reaching out to shake her hand.

But as your fingers met hers, Sora smoothly shifted her body forward, using her shoulder to create a physical paravan that completely blocked Sophia’s line of sight from your face. Locking eyes with you over Sophia's shoulder, Sora aggressively mouthed two words: "I won."

You knew exactly what she meant. She had been far too giddy coming out here to the garden, and the competitive spark in her eyes told you everything. Despite the absolute emotional storm raging in your chest, you had to bite back a sudden smile at her antics.

"Are you up for drinking at my place after this?" Jimin asked, crossing his arms as he looked at you with genuine concern. "We can grab some takeout, open a few bottles, and actually relax."

Fuck. Fast. You had to think of an excuse fast.

Your brain short-circuited as the alcohol swirled heavily in your veins, a frantic panic clashing with the liquid heat still humming under your skin. You couldn't let them know what you planned. It would be beyond weird. Sora hated Jeongguk's guts, and Jimin, for some odd reason, didn't particularly enjoy seeing him anywhere next to you either. You gathered that much.

So why the hell would you go with him?

What could possibly be an explanation for why you were ditching them? You had already arrived at the gala with them. Leaving alone was not something you usually did—not even back when you were dating Minho, who used to keep you on a tight leash.

"Oh, we should definitely invite Taehyung too!" Sora piped in, her eyes lighting up at the prospect. "He was so fun inside."

"Yeah, that’s a good idea," Jimin agreed, already pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I'll text him right now."

No, no, no. Your mind was screaming, absolute chaos overriding the champagne haze. If Jimin texted Taehyung, the whole fragile house of cards would come crashing down. Taehyung already knew about the desperate, secret pact. He had literally just told you he wouldn't say anything to Sora and Jimin, but if they tried to drag him to an afterparty while you were supposed to be waiting for his best friend, the overlap would be messy.

Why, why, why, why couldn't your brain cooperate?

Desperate, you finally landed on a half-assed excuse, forcing your voice to sound as weak and strained as possible. "Actually... guys, I don't think I can make it. I'm really not feeling well. I think I just drank way too much champagne on an empty stomach."

Sophia gave a sympathetic tilt of her head. "Oh, that’s a bummer."

"Honestly, I can understand," Jimin said gently, slipping his phone back into his pocket without sending the text. He sighed, his expression softening with deep empathy. "Especially after running into that asshole."

Sora immediately turned to Sophia, leaning in slightly to catch her up. "She saw her ex inside," she explained in a heavy whisper.

Sophia’s eyes widened slightly in instant girl-code solidarity. She let out a long, knowing, "Ohhhhh..."

She completely understood the sudden urge to vanish from a party. You shot her a small, tight, apologetic smile, playing the part of the heartbroken, exhausted victim while your heart battered violently against your ribs for an entirely different reason.

You weren't going home to sleep off a hangover.

You glanced down at the small clutch in your hand, your fingers tightening around the leather.

Fifteen minutes now.

You trailed behind them as the group headed back inside, the transition from the quiet garden to the grand hall hitting your senses in a sudden, overwhelming wave.

The atmosphere in the ballroom had completely transformed while you were gone. The music filtering through the massive, high-end speaker system was a strange, hypnotic juxtaposition—a delicate Chopin nocturne seamlessly woven into deep, heavy electronic undertones. It was a combination of two entirely different worlds that by all traditional logic shouldn’t have been brought together.

The classical piano keys danced gracefully over a modern bassline that vibrated right through the marble floor, creating a stark, super-charged rhythm that held the entire room captive.

Everyone was smiling in absolute awe at the combination, their heads nodding to a track that felt almost alive.

As you navigated through the crowd of faculty and high-society guests, a snippet of an enthusiastic conversation floated over the music from a nearby group of students.

"Wow, Amaranth is absolutely killing it tonight," a voice praised over the chatter. "I’m so glad they brought him in for the audio-visual design."

A sharp jolt of electricity shot straight down your spine. Amaranth. His professional name. His identity in this elite world.

People truly like him. Something you keep on learning.

Your eyes instinctively flew toward the elevated mixing station at the far end of the hall. There he was, perfectly framed by the glowing display lights. His relaxed dress shirt was still slightly undone at the collar, his hands moving across the faders with a lazy, practiced authority. He looked completely unbothered, a master of ceremonies hiding in plain sight, pulling the strings of the entire room.

Through the haze of the champagne, Taehyung's words echoed heavily in your mind: He’s a tactical genius when it comes to a mixing board...

You watched the way his shoulders shifted as he dropped the bass lower, letting the classical piano swell beautifully before crashing back into that intoxicating electronic pulse. The music was a perfect reflection of him—guarded, intense, and dangerously brilliant.

"He sure knows how to work a room through music," Jimin noted, his eyes drifting briefly toward the elevated mixing station as you all neared the heavy oak walls of the room. There was a begrudging respect in his voice that he rarely afforded the producer.

Sora let out a low hum, adjusting the strap of her bag. "He's an ass, but the talent's there. You can't deny that."

"It's kinda weird he threw himself entirely into electronics, though," Sophia chimed in, her curls bouncing as she looked between them. "My roommate told me that for his university admission portfolio, he actually played piano."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heels nearly faltering against the polished floor.

Piano? He played piano?

You found it incredibly hard to correlate the man you knew—or thought you knew—with delicate ivory keys. Piano was such an intimate, romantic, and deeply emotional instrument. It required a vulnerability, a willingness to let your internal world bleed out through the tips of your fingers.

Somehow, you had never pegged the brooding, iron-gripped man as someone who would choose something so profoundly introspective. You envisioned his hands—the ones that had just roughly bunched your ex's collar and violently marked his territory—tracing a classical keyboard.

It felt mismatched.

But at the same time, the realization hit you over and over again, bruising and persistent: you didn't know the first thing about him. You didn't know his past, his drives, or what kind of ghost he was running from. You were entirely tangled up in a physical war with a total stranger.

The sudden, suffocating wave of panic returned, making your throat dry. Without thinking, your hand shot out toward a passing catering tray, seamlessly snatching another filled champagne glass and downing the liquid in one desperate swallow. The bubbles burned, adding fuel to the wildfire already clouding your senses.

"Oh, for real?" Jimin asked Sophia, missing your sudden alcohol snatching act. "I didn't know he was ever into classical."

"Honestly, I don't think anyone really knows," Sophia replied with a slight shrug. "No one has ever seen him play the piano again after that admission audition. He just walked away from it. But it's nice that he inserted something so piano-related into the set tonight. It feels personal."

Ten minutes.

Above you, the music began to shift again, the electronic bassline tightening its grip as the interwoven Chopin melody began to climb. The piano notes grew faster, more urgent, building into a dramatic, sweeping crescendo that soared toward the high arched ceilings of the room.

The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. Every heavy pulse of the bass felt like Jeongguk's rough palms gripping your waist, pulling you closer to the moment his twenty minutes would expire and he would come to collect your choice.

"Are you completely sure you don't want to come?" Sora asked, turning back to you as they approached the heavy glass exit doors. Her eyes searched yours, lingering on the fatigue you were trying so hard to weaponize as an excuse.

"I'm sure," you assured her, forcing a small, tired smile. "It's totally okay. I’m just going to step outside and take a cab home."

A lie.

Sora tilted her head, her expression softening into concern. "Are you okay, though? Really?"

"Yes," you said.

A half-lie.

Or maybe a complete one? You honestly didn't even know yourself anymore. The alcohol was doing terrifying things to your processing speed, blurring the lines between the humiliation Minho had inflicted and the undeniable want Jeongguk had ignited.

Sora sighed, stepping forward to wrap her arms around your shoulders. "I don’t believe you for a second," she murmured into your ear, "but we'll talk when you’re ready."

You let out a low, grateful hum, hugging her back tightly. You pulled away and leaned into Jimin next, soaking in his quiet, protective warmth for a brief second before turning to the curly-haired woman beside them. "It was very nice to meet you, Sophia."

"You too, Y/N. Get some rest," Sophia offered warmly.

You watched as the three of them finally turned and began walking through the glass doors, the cool night air sweeping into the grand hall for a brief moment. But right before they cleared the threshold, Sora suddenly spun around. Ensuring Sophia’s back was turned, she caught your eye and made a ridiculous, explicit hip-thrust motion, aggressively mouthing three words: "I’m fucking."

A genuine, breathless laugh escaped your lips. Even in the middle of a literal war zone, Sora was still completely locked into her victory. You smiled brightly, waving your hands in a frantic, shooing motion to get her to turn around before she embarrassed you both.

She chuckled, threw you a final wave, and disappeared into the night with Jimin and Sophia.

The second the doors clicked shut behind them, the smile dropped from your face.

Five minutes.

The crescendo in the music was reaching its absolute peak, the piano keys fracturing over a bassline so heavy it felt like it was physically violently pushing you back toward the courtyard.

Somewhere between the chaotic rush of your thoughts, the music stopped. The heavy, thumping electronic pulse and the intricate, climbing piano keys simply vanished, leaving a sudden, ringing void in the air. A loud, thunderous wave of applause rippled through the grand hall, followed by the muffled, polite voice of a faculty board member over a microphone, offering a string of thank you's and a smooth reminder to please donate to the department fund if they could.

However, you didn't clock any of it.

Your vision was hazy, the sheer volume of champagne making your surroundings tilt as you stood near the edge of the corridor leading back to the courtyard.

You were staring intently at a massive, ornate flower bouquet resting on a velvet-draped side table. Your mind, entirely hyper-focused and sluggish all at once, was quietly wondering if the deep, bleeding colors resonated between the petals, or if the arrangement was just something jarring. Something loud. Something that screamed for attention, just like the fuchsia dress Minho said didn't fit you.

"Hi."

Your head snapped up, the heavy fog of the champagne instantly fracturing as a tall, broad frame eclipsed the light.

Jeongguk.

He had stepped right up to your side, his shoulder anchoring itself next to yours just like he had in the alcove. The production headphones were gone from his neck, and his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his black dress pants. He looked completely unbothered by the lingering applause in the room, his blown-out pupils locked dead on your face.

The twenty minutes were up.

"So?" he asked, his voice a gravelly vibration meant for you alone. He didn't waste time with pleasantries. He didn't offer a gentle check-in.

You looked up at him, the reckless want in your stomach tightening into something definitive.

"What I asked still stands," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly but holding his gaze.

Jeongguk’s jaw clenched, a microscopic shift running through his rigid shoulders.

Easy to miss.

You didn't.

He didn't smile, and he didn't give you a smug retort. He just gave you a single, firm nod—a heavy, silent promise that the rules of the transaction were officially dead for the night.

"Let's go," he murmured.

Without another word, you turned away from the velvet table and the floral arrangement, falling into step right beside him. You walked toward the heavy glass exit doors together, his frame shielding you from the remaining glances of the crowd.

The cold night air hit your skin the second the doors pushed open, but as you stepped out into the dark with him, you didn't feel the chill at all.

He guided you down the grand steps of the venue and toward the VIP parking lot, instructing you to follow him straight to his car.

The damned Mercedes.

It was the exact same vehicle you had last seen him in, and the vivid, chaotic memory of what had happened in the back seat instantly clung to your mind like mosquitoes to honey.

Inevitable. Messy.

Sweet.

The sudden flash of the memory made your chest tighten under the dress, the alcohol in your veins making the phantom sensation of his hands feel too real.

Jeongguk stopped by the passenger side, his tall frame cutting a sharp silhouette in the dim moonlight as he pulled his keys from his pocket. He didn't immediately reach for the handle. Instead, he turned his eyes down to yours, assessing the slight sway in your posture.

"Do you want me to open your door?" he asked, his voice low.

You blinked up at him, overstimulated and short-circuiting as you stammered over your words. "N-no. I mean... I can. Did you drink?"

Jeongguk pulled the driver’s side door open, his expression completely flat and unbothered as he looked at you over the roof of the car. "I don’t drink and drive."

"But you drank from my wris—"

The words cut off abruptly, the realization of what you were actively blabbing out loud hitting your brain a second too late. Your face flushed a deep crimson that had absolutely nothing to do with the champagne.

Jeongguk paused, one foot already inside the vehicle as his jaw tightened. He shot you a piercing, heavy look across the dashboard, his pupils blowing out slightly in the shadows.

"What was that?" he asked as he got into the car.

"Nothing, nothing," you muttered frantically, quickly pulling the passenger door open and scrambling inside to escape the weight of his gaze. You slammed the door shut, the heavy, expensive scent of leather, musk, and a faint hint of tobacco instantly trapping you in his space before the engine had even roared to life.

The engine hummed a low, smooth purr that cut through the heavy silence inside the Mercedes. Jeongguk shifted gears effortlessly, his hand resting casually on the console as he pulled out of the gala’s VIP lot and onto the open road.

As he drove, the streetlights cast rhythmic, fleeting shadows across his jawline. He flicked his gaze away from the windshield for a split second, locking his eyes onto your face, and asked, "Are you still drunk?"

You let out a low, tired hum, leaning your head back against the expensive leather seat. "Yes."

He made a sharp tsk sound through his teeth, his grip tightening slightly around the steering wheel. He exhaled a slow breath, his voice dropping a fraction. "I don’t know what to feel with you being this drunk."

"It's alright," you assured him softly, the fizzy alcohol still potent in your system and blurring the edges of the panic you had felt just minutes ago. You shifted in the passenger seat, the dress rustling against the leather as you looked at his profile.

Jeongguk kept his eyes on the road, but the tension in his shoulders was palpable.

"We're going to mine, yes?" he asked again, his voice flat, demanding a verbal confirmation to the heavy shift in your deal.

"Yes," you said.

A few seconds of heavy silence passed before he pushed again, his mind clearly tracking the risks. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," you repeated, your voice a little louder this time.

"On a scale from 1 to 10, how sure are you?" he pressed, his baritone dropping an octave as he demanded absolute certainty from a girl running on destructive impulse.

"Ten," you fired back instantly.

He opened his mouth, his jaw shifting as he started to ask yet again, "Are you—"

"Yes!" you cut him off frantically, tossing your hands up slightly in the narrow space between your seats. "Stop asking. I'm a big girl, I'm vaccinated, and I can make my own decisions."

The words tumbled out in a messy, alcohol-fueled rush. You were completely rambling now, the filter entirely stripped away by the champagne as you desperately tried to prove you weren't just a fragile entity spinning out of control.

Jeongguk’s jaw went slack for a fraction of a second, the iron-clad armor he usually wore cracking just enough to let something human bleed through. A tiny, genuine smirk tilted the corner of his lips, and he almost chuckled.

"Fine, fine," he murmured softly, turning the steering wheel to guide the car down the highway, finally accepting the absolute chaos he was driving right into.

The silence stretched between you once again, thick and heavy, filled only by the quiet hum of the tires against the asphalt and the soft, rhythmic click of the turn signal as he navigated the dark streets.

But the liquid courage humming in your veins made the quiet feel too expansive, too filled with the lingering ghosts of the gala. You broke it, your voice cutting softly through the interior.

"You did a very good job with the music tonight," you murmured, your head still resting back against the leather.

The car seemed to still for a fraction of a second. It was the first compliment you had ever shot his way. In all the weeks of your shadow arrangement, your words had been sharp, defensive, or purely transactional.

You had never acknowledged the identity the rest of the university whispered about with such awe. The Amaranth persona.

Maybe it was just the champagne speaking, stripping away your pride layer by layer, but you meant it. The music really had been beautiful. The way he had seamlessly woven that delicate piano over such a dark electronic pulse—it had felt raw.

It had felt like him. Almost.

Jeongguk’s fingers twitched slightly on the steering wheel. He didn't answer immediately, his eyes tracking the road ahead as his jaw shifted.

"Oh..." he muttered, the sudden vulnerability catching him entirely off guard. He cleared his throat, his voice dropping into something unpolished. "Uhm. Thank you."

It didn't sound genuine, but you didn't push why he wouldn't accept it.

You watched his reflection in the side window. He still had the top buttons undone, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that anchored your spinning vision.

You were outside his orbit no longer. You were in his car, speeding toward his space, entirely by your own choice.

Jeongguk took a sharp turn into an underground parking complex, the tires squealing softly against the smooth concrete as the darkness swallowed the car whole. He brought it to a halt in a secluded, private bay, killing the engine.

The silence was absolute.

He didn't move to get out. He just unbuckled his seatbelt, turning his upper body fully toward you in the dim, shadowed interior of the car. His eyes scanned your face, tracking the glassy sheen in your eyes and the flush on your cheeks before dropping down to the rise and fall of your chest.

"We're here," he murmured, his voice sent a familiar shiver straight down your spine. "Last chance, Void."

You got out of the car in a quick, decisive motion, the fabric of your dress rustling sharply against the leather as you cut through his warning. "Let's go."

The elevator ride to his apartment was quiet. The only sound was the low, mechanical hum of the lift ascending and the heavy, rhythmic thud of your heart battering against your ribs.

Floor 7. Apartment 58.

The numbers burned into your mind as the metal doors slid open. You couldn't turn back now, and as your mind was still foggy from the bubbly liquid, you realized you didn’t want to anyways. Every instinct you had left was entirely focused on the tall figure walking a half-step ahead of you, his keys clinking softly in the quiet corridor.

As he unlocked the door, you braced yourself, preparing your mind for something deeply minimalist—something cold, sharp, and sterile that matched the calculating armor he wore out in the world.

But it wasn’t.

When the door swung open, you were greeted by an environment that felt profoundly alive. The apartment didn't hit you in shades, but rather in a rich tapestry of deep, velvet shadows and glowing highlights. It was a space saturated in dark tones, but it was absolutely bursting with personality.

Music sheets were scattered basically everywhere—strewed across the dark hardwood floor, stacked haphazardly on a low coffee table, and resting in loose fan shapes over the furniture. Yet, despite the clutter, it wasn't chaotic. It was deeply welcoming. It was incredibly warm, the temperature wrapping around your bare shoulders like a blanket, completely erasing the lingering chill of the gala.

And it smelled entirely like him.

But it wasn't just the sharp tobacco and rich musk you were used to inhaling when he crowded you. Layered underneath the dark, masculine weight of his scent was something sweet and thick.

Strawberries.

The sticky, fruit-sweet aroma mingled beautifully with the bitter trace of cigarettes and clean musk, catching in your throat and making your head spin even faster.

Your eyes adjusted to the vastness of the room. He had massive, soaring windows that stretched toward the ceiling, letting the silver moonlight pour over rows of lush, leafy plants.

Vines of ivy trailed down the brickwork, their jagged, waxy leaves catching the light. Intricate flowers sat in dense clusters on the windowsills and tables—you couldn't see their hues, but you could distinctly see the velvety texture of their petals, the delicate, feathery fronds of ferns, and the soft, organic shapes breaking up the sharp lines of his furniture.

You stood in the entryway, almost entirely taken aback. The realization hit you with a bruising, physical force: you really didn't know anything about him.

Sure, he had casually mentioned once before that he knew a lot about flowers, but you had never, in your wildest dreams, imagined that knowledge would translate so deeply into his private sanctuary. The rough-edged, cynical producer who handled heavy audio gear and threatened to put men through the ground had built a haven filled with delicate petals, music sheets, and sweet fruit.

Jeongguk tossed his keys onto a wooden console by the door, the metallic ring echoing through the quiet space. He turned around, his frame casting a long, heavy shadow across the room as his unblinking eyes settled on your stunned expression.

He suddently disappeared into the shadows of the kitchen presumably and returned a moment later holding a very big glass of water.

Jeongguk stepped right into your space, the heavy scent of musk and sweet strawberries wrapping around you as he extended his hand, pressing the cool glass into your palm.

"Drink," he ordered quietly, his voice a low vibration in the apartment.

You tilted your chin up, staring stubbornly into his eyes. "No."

Jeongguk let out a low, patient breath through his nose, his thumb brushing against your knuckles as he held the glass steady with you. "C’mon, Void. It’ll help."

The heavy influence of the champagne made your movements sluggish, but under the intensity of his gaze, you finally gave in. You raised the glass to your lips and took a big gulp.

But the water did not taste like champagne. It lacked the sharp, burning fizz that had been numbing your throat all night, and you immediately furrowed your brows in deep distaste. Instead of swallowing, you just held the liquid in your mouth, letting it sit behind your teeth until it started to grow warm against your skin.

Jeongguk watched the slight, stubborn puff of your cheeks, his jaw tightening as he immediately caught onto what you were doing. His head tilted, a dangerous, low warning bleeding into his tone. "Void. Swallow."

You fiercely protested without words, glaring up at him through your lashes as you stubbornly refused to move your throat.

"I'm serious," he murmured, his eyes dropping to your lips before snapping back to yours. "Swallow it."

With a miserable, silent huff, you finally relented just a fraction, letting a tiny bit of the water go down your throat. It was warm now, completely lacking the refreshing chill it had a second ago.

Jeongguk saw the slight movement of your neck but wasn't satisfied. "All of it, c'mon," he murmured. He took a deliberate step closer, his chest nearly brushing against the structural lines of your dress as he reached up, his hand gently cupping the bottom of the glass to nudge it upward, forcing you to finish what was left.

The heat radiating off his body was blinding, completely erasing the last remnants of the outside world. Trapped under his weight and the command in his voice, you finally obliged. You tilted your head back, swallowing the rest of the water in long, forced gulps until the glass was completely empty.

You set the empty glass down on the edge of the low coffee table, your head spinning slightly from the sudden rush of water against the alcohol. Exhausted and entirely heavy, you sank back onto the velvety cushions of his sofa. A second later, Jeongguk plopped down right next to you, the cushions dipping under his body as he leaned his head back against the sofa, his eyes tracking your every move.

The silence inside the apartment stretched for only a moment before he broke it.

"You cut me off earlier," he muttered, his fingers twitching slightly against his thigh.

You blinked your glassy eyes, turning your head on the cushion to look at him through the dim light. "When?"

"After the Minho encounter," he explained, his jaw tightening slightly as he recalled the chaotic fracture in the alcove. "In the hallway. I was going to say you look beautiful."

A small, breathless oh escaped your lips. The memory of your hands bunched into his collar and the raw, defensive rage you had spat at him flashed through your mind. "You can say it now."

Jeongguk let out a low, flat hum through his nose, his gaze dropping to your dress before lifting back to your face. "It’s not the same. He already poisoned your mind saying you don’t fit the dress."

The brutal seed of doubt Minho had planted in the gala hall burned in your chest all over again, cold and persistent. You looked down at your hands, your voice dropping into a small, defeated whisper. "Well... maybe I don’t."

"But you do," Jeongguk countered immediately. The casual indifference he usually wore was completely gone, replaced by a heavy intensity that commanded your full attention. "You fit anything you want to wear, Void. Why are you letting him dictate from the shadows?"

"I don’t want him to," you choked out, a raw honesty tearing through the champagne haze. You stared at the dark fabric of his trousers, your shoulders dropping. "It just happens."

"I know," he murmured, his tone softening into a quieter, more careful register as he watched the erratic rise and fall of your chest. He reached out, his thumb gently catching a lingering trace of moisture on your cheek. "You have to snap out of it. You look beautiful in the dress. Taehyung was right."

The certainty in his voice felt like a sudden anchor, dragging you away from the wreckage of the night. You swallowed the lump in your throat, staring into his unblinking eyes.

"Thank you," you whispered.

You shifted slightly on the velvet cushion as you looked at him through the shadowed light of the apartment. The image of those classical music sheets scattered across the warm room flickered in your mind, pulling the earlier conversation with Sophia right back to the surface.

"I heard you played piano for your university admission," you murmured, breaking the quiet.

Jeongguk’s eyes narrowed just a fraction, a subtle shift running through his shoulders. He tilted his head back against the sofa, a lazy curiosity entering his gaze as he looked down at you. "Have you been talking about me?"

"Yeah," you said softly, locking your eyes with his focused ones. "Is that so bad?"

He let out a low hum through his nose, his fingers twitching slightly against the dark fabric of his trousers again. His pupils were completely blown out in the dim light as he watched the way you breathed. "I don’t know."

The silence that followed was thick and charged with the exact same suffocating want that had frozen you in the garden. The boundaries of your transactional pact were entirely gone, replaced by a reckless, driving force that made your skin burn.

You didn't want to talk about his past anymore. You didn't want to talk about Minho or the music sheets or the context. You just needed to drown out the remaining noise in your head under the blunt certainty of his weight.

"I want to do something," you whispered.

Jeongguk’s jaw clenched, his gaze dropping to your lips before snapping back to your eyes, genuinely curious now. "What?"

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you slid off the velvet edge of the sofa and dropped to your knees on the dark hardwood floor directly in front of him.

Jeongguk froze, his breath catching in his throat as he looked down at you from the sofa. The fabric of the dress pooled around your knees on the floor, the texture catching the little light that was in the apartment.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice dropping into a register that was thick with a sudden heat.

You didn’t reply. Driven by the alcohol-fueled wildfire in your veins, your hands shot straight forward, your fingers fumbling clumsily against the cold metal of his belt buckle.

Before you could loosen the strap, Jeongguk’s hands shot down. His calloused fingers clamped firmly around your wrists, arresting your movements instantly. He didn't push you away though. Instead, he leaned his upper body forward, shifting down until his face was inches from yours. His hot, heavy breath fanning directly over your lips.

"Let's re-assess," he murmured, his thumb pressing against your racing pulse point. "Void, what are you doing?"

Your throat felt incredibly tight, the words choking behind your teeth. Trapped under the intensity of his gaze, you couldn't find the breath to explain the ravenous ache clawing at your stomach.

So, you just tilted your chin down and pointed toward his crotch.

Jeongguk’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking violently under his smooth skin as he took in your silent gesture. He didn't let go of your wrists. "Use your words."

"Well, I want to... want to..." you stammered, your vision blurring slightly as you looked at the sharp curve of his mouth.

He cocked a single brow, a lazy, dominant edge returning to his pupils. "Want to?"

"Are you really going to make me say it?" you breathed, a flash of frustration flaring in your chest. You pulled weakly against his grip. "It ruins it."

"Yes," he countered immediately, his voice a commanding whisper against your lips. He squeezed your wrists just enough to anchor your focus entirely on him. "Because saying it doesn’t ruin anything. You need to communicate. Tell me."

You pondered for an agonizing moment, the silence inside the apartment stretching thin. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, biting down hard as you looked from his eyes down to his mouth, then back up again. The pride you had carried all night was completely gone, melted away by the desperate need to feel alive under his weight.

"I want to suck you," you whispered.

Jeongguk stayed quiet for a long, heavy beat, his eyes boring into yours as the confession hung in the warm air between you. The muscle in his jaw ticked once, twice, before he finally let out a low, rough breath.

"Yeah. Okay," he said, the words slipping out fast.

The absolute speed of his reply, contrasting so sharply with the strict, instructional lecture on communication he had just given you, made a small smile tug at the corner of your lips.

His grip loosened, releasing your wrists, and you immediately moved your hands back to the front of his trousers to undo his belt. But the alcohol was still making your fingers clumsy, and the leather strap was secured by a very weird, intricate buckle that you couldn't quite figure out. You huffed in slight frustration, your nails scratching uselessly against the cold metal.

He noticed, as he always does.

Before you could grow completely exasperated, Jeongguk’s hand came down, his warm palm sliding flush against the back of yours to guide your fingers. The texture of his skin grated beautifully against your knuckles as he smoothly pressed the release mechanism, showing you exactly how the metal clicked open.

"All yours now," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he pulled his hands back, leaning his head against the sofa cushions to let you take control.

With the buckle finally undone, you took a ragged breath and gripped the metal tab of his zipper, pulling it down with a definitive slide that cut through the thumps of your heart. You reached for the waistband of his tailored black dress pants, tugging the fabric down his hips, exposing the dark line of his boxer briefs and the heavy, rigid outline of the want you had created.

Your mouth fell agape as your eyes adjusted to the shadows. Even though he wasn’t fully hard yet, it still was a considerable size, heavy against the dark fabric of his underwear.

Reaching forward with trembling fingers, you hooked your hands under the elastic of his briefs, carefully pulling the fabric down to release him into the open air. The heat radiating off his skin was intense. You wrapped your fingers around the solid base of his length, your thumbs tracing the smooth, sensitive skin.

Slowly, you began to caress him, your palm moving in a steady, deliberate rhythm, pumping him until the muscle in his jaw clenched tight and a ragged breath escaped his lips. With every upward stroke, he grew harder, filling your palm entirely.

Driven by the heavy hum of want in your blood, you leaned in closer, tilting your head as your lips parted, desperate to finally take him into your mouth.

But before your lips could brush the pre-cum stained tip, Jeongguk’s hand shot down, his fingers bunching into the hair at the back of your head to stop your forward momentum. He didn't pull you away harshly, but his grip held you perfectly still, just an inch away from him.

"Kiss it," he commanded, his voice dropping into a rough murmur that vibrated straight through your chest.

You blinked up at him through your lashes, your response time a bit sluggish. Leaning forward just a fraction, you delivered a small, innocent little peck against the warm skin of his tip.

Jeongguk let out a frustrated growl through his nose, his grip tightening slightly in your hair as he forced you to look up at the hungry in his eyes.

"No," he muttered, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Kiss it how you kissed me. With tongue."

And oh, you did. You so did.

The second the wet, warm flat of your tongue swiped up the length of his skin, a sharp, violent jolt of electricity sent shivers racing straight down your spine. The intimacy of it washed over you in a dizzying wave, the sweet trace of champagne on your breath mingling with the heavy, masculine heat radiating from him. His thighs tensed instantly, the dense muscle jumping beneath his skin, and you could feel the pulse of him right against your lips.

Jeongguk threw his head back against the velvet cushions of the sofa, his eyes snapping shut as his jaw clenched so hard the muscle ticked under the strain. The fingers bunched into the back of your hair micro-shifted, gripping the strands a fraction more—not to pull you away, but to steady himself against the devastating friction of your mouth.

He wanted to stay quiet, he really did. He was fiercely trying to maintain that unbothered control he always weaponized, but the vulnerable surrender in your movements was actively shredding his restraint.

Fueled by the possessive want clawing at your stomach, you opened your mouth wider and started to go down more.

And more.

You took the thick, burning length of him deeper into your throat, your hand pumping steadily at his base as you rhythmically drew him in. The texture of your dress rustled against the dark floorboards, completely forgotten as the entire universe narrowed down to the heat of his skin and the desperate rhythm you were forcing upon him.

And at the first low, gravelly moan that stumbled past his lips, something feral ignited in you. The sound was rough, broken, and stripped of his usual composure—a direct confession that you were breaking him apart piece by piece.

You wanted to make him feel good.

You wanted to consume him until there was nothing left of the stranger, leaving only the man who belonged entirely in your orbit tonight.

So you licked, and pulled, and sucked, entirely lost in the rhythm you were dictating. The taste of him was intoxicating, blending with the lingering heat of the alcohol until your head swam.

You swiped your tongue deliberately over the sensitive crown, toying with the slit on the tip, a slick and calculated friction that earned another deep, broken moan from the back of his throat.

Hearing him come undone only made you greedier. You pushed forward, taking the length of him all the way down, burying him deep into your throat until your nose touched his pubic bone—a suffocating depth that earned a rough grunt of surprise.

You switched between paces, learning the exact geography of his pleasure in the dark. You would pull back slowly, drawing your lips tightly along his cock until you were just teasing the tip, before plunging right back down in a fast, relentless rhythm that gave him no time to recover.

That’s when he started talking.

The grip he kept in your hair tightened, his fingers flexing against your scalp as he forced your head to stay buried against him. "Void, f-fuck..." he choked out, his voice dropping into a register so deep it vibrated directly against your teeth. "Your mouth is so good... where the hell did you learn to take it like that?"

He let out a trembling breath, his head tossing back against the sofa cushions as you swiped your tongue up the heavy vein underneath his cock.

"Look at me," he commanded, his tone dripping with an authority that you couldn't ignore. You tilted your chin up, your eyes glassy and your lips slick, staring up into the black depth of his blown-out pupils.

Jeongguk’s jaw clenched as he took in the sight of you on your knees, wearing Taehyung’s expensive masterpiece while completely servicing him.

A wicked smirk threatened the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remained intense. "Look at you... ruined in a dress that costs more than some of my gear, sucking my dick like your life depends on it. You like being down there, don't you? You like knowing you're making me make those sounds."

You swallowed hard, your chest heaving against the fabric, but before you could pull away to breathe, his palm pressed against the back of your head, guiding you right back down.

"Don't stop," he growled a breathless demand slicing through the room. "Keep going just like that. Use your tongue more, Void. Fuck, yeah... right there."

You grew faster, determined.

The sound of his voice was like gasoline on fire.

Jeongguk’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening in your hair until it was almost a bruising grip, anchoring you flush against him. He looked down through the dark, his eyelids fluttering as he watched the frantic, beautiful mess you were making of yourself.

"You look so pretty down there, Void... don't you?" he rasped, his voice low. "Fucking ruined for me."

You wanted to reply. You wanted to throw a sharp, defensive retort back at him just to prove you still had your claws, but your mouth was entirely occupied.

Instead, you could only manage a deep, heavy hum from the back of your throat. The resonant vibration of your vocal cords trapped right against his skin sent an instant shockwave through him.

Jeongguk’s entire lower body jerked, his thighs tightening like iron cables as a loud, guttural grunt tore from his throat.

A smirk appeared at the corner of his lips again as he looked down at your eyes. "Ahh... can't talk with your mouth full?" he mocked softly, his breath coming in shallow, ragged pants.

Before you could hum again, his grip shifted from the back of your head to your jaw. His fingers locked onto your chin, and with a sudden upward pull, he raised your head right off his cock.

You let out a small, breathless gasp as the air hit your wet lips, but you didn't even have a second to blink. Jeongguk leaned forward off the sofa, his frame completely eclipsing the moonlight as he crowded into your space, his face catching the warmth of yours just a second before his mouth slammed into your lips.

The kiss was heavy, deep, and utterly filthy.

There was no gentleness to it, no polite checking-in. His tongue thrust directly past your parted lips, completely trying to collect and reclaim whatever you had just tasted off him.

It was an intoxicating, chaotic rush that made your head spin faster than the alcohol ever could. He kissed you with a possessive hunger, his thumb pressing deeply into the line of your jaw, forcing you to take the full, bruising weight of his mouth until you were completely breathless beneath him.

Mid-kiss, his hand slid down the exposed skin of your spine, his fingers hunting for the metal tab hidden in the structure of the dress. With a single, heavy pull, the sharp click of the zipper echoed through the room as the fabric instantly split open, loosening around your body.

He only broke the contact of his mouth to murmur a low order against your swollen lips. "Step out of it."

Your head swam as the air of the apartment hit your bare back. Shifting your weight on the dark hardwood floor, you obliged, letting the heavy, expensive fabric pool around your ankles before stepping entirely out of the dress.

Jeongguk didn't move. He sat back slightly on the cushions, his eyes instantly locking onto your form. He slowly scanned you up and down, taking in every inch of your exposed skin.

As his gaze lingered on your chest, his jaw shifted, and he poked his tongue into the inside of his cheek—that same habit you had seen him do a thousand times whenever he was deep in thought.

Under the intensity of his silent inspection, the haze fractured just enough to let a sudden wave of unease crash over you. You shifted on your feet, your hands instinctively twitching as if to cover yourself.

"No bra?" he asked, his voice dropping into something almost mad that sent a shiver straight down your arms.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady despite the frantic thudding of your heart. "The dress didn't need it."

Jeongguk’s eyes flicked back up to yours, a wicked glint darkening his pupils as he took in your vulnerability. "Seems like you didn't need it either. C'mere."

Before you could even process the command, his hands clamped around your waist. With one tug, he pulled you right up onto his lap. The fabric of his undone dress pants scraped against your bare thighs, and the staggering heat of his skin burned against you as you settled over him, completely trapped in his space.

You straddled his thighs, your bare knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips as you stared down at him.

Narrowing your focus until everything outside of his frame ceased to exist.

You let your gaze drift over his face, mapping out the features you had spent weeks avoiding.

First, your eyes locked onto his, then descended slowly to his nose. It was a sharp, straight, incredibly handsome nose, the smooth bridge catching the light filtering through the high windows. You were seeing it clearly now, without the defensive armor of your pride. A reckles thought flashed across your mind—a sudden, dizzying desire to feel the sharp line of it between your thighs.

You almost wanted to sit on it.

The heat of the thought made your breath hitch, and your eyes dropped lower, settling on his lips. They were still slick and dark from the kiss he had just stolen from you.

Finally, you dragged your gaze back up to his eyes. Pretty eyes. They looked like two deep, endless inkwells in the shadows of the apartment, unblinking, and swirling with a focus that was entirely fixed on you.

Jeongguk didn't move a muscle, but his hands tightened slightly where they rested on your waist, his thumbs tracing the curve of your hips. He tilted his chin up just a fraction, his voice dropping just a bit.

"Are you gonna kiss me, Void?"

Fuck.

And you did.

You leaned down, crashing your lips against his with a sudden hunger that completely obliterated the last remnants of the gala. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, burying your fingers into the short strands at the nape of his neck as you pulled him flush against you. Your bare chest pressed flat against the soft fabric of his undone dress shirt, the friction sending a violent jolt of electricity straight to your core.

Jeongguk let out a ragged growl into the kiss, his restraint snapping completely. His hands slid down from your waist, his palms cupping the underside of your bare thighs to hoist you higher against him, locking you firmly into his lap.

He met your tongue with a ferocious, deep stroke of his own, reclaiming the taste of his skin and the lingering sweetness of the champagne. The kiss became frantic, messy, and consuming, the slick sound of your mouths filling the room as he grounded you in his space.

He pushed your panties to the side with a heavy swipe of his hand. A second later, he pressed one single digit directly against your wet folds, the tip dragging upward through the slick heat.

Your breath hitched sharply in the middle of the kiss, your fingers tightening convulsively in his hair as the sudden friction sent a violent jolt.

He broke the kiss. But he didn’t stray too far away—his lips remained just a hair’s breadth from yours, his breath fanning over your mouth as his finger hooked and shifted against your sensitive skin, testing the depth of your surrender.

"You're soaked," he rasped.

He let out a low chuckle that sounded feral, his thumb pressing firmly down on your clit while his long index finger slid effortlessly into your tight heat.

You whimpered aloud, your hips giving a helpless, upward twitch against his hand as the scent of him clouded your remaining senses.

He watched your face through the dim light, his eyes tracking the look in yours as he dragged his finger all the way out, only to plunge it right back in, stretching you open.

"F-fuck, Void," he growled, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle violently ticked. "You're dripping all over my hand. Tell me how much you want it."

"Yes," you breathed out, the word escaping as a broken gasp against his mouth. You didn't care how pathetic you sounded, nor did you care about the pride you had fiercely guarded all evening.

You just needed the ache gone. "I want it. Please, Jeongguk."

He let out a hum that vibrated deep in his chest. Slowly, he pulled his hand out from between your damp thighs, leaving you instantly cold and aching for the contact to return.

You watched through your glassy vision as he lifted his hand, his eyes never leaving yours, and slowly swiped his tongue across the wet, glistening tip of his finger. The casual intimacy of the gesture made your stomach do a violent flip. Then, his hands clamped hard around your waist again, his grip firm as he hoisted you even higher up his torso.

You blinked down at him, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as your thighs left the cushions. "What... what are you doing?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Jeongguk’s jaw shifted, his expression darkened by a hunger that made him look almost predatory.

"Stand up," he commanded. "And sit on my face."

Your mind fractured for a second, the bluntness of the order cutting straight through the lingering haze. "Sorry?" you stammered, your eyes widening as you stared into his eyes.

"You heard me," he murmured, his thumbs digging firmly into the soft skin of your hips, guiding your weight upward.

You reluctantly stood up, your knees shaking as you braced your feet on the cushions.

Shifting your weight, you moved forward and lowered your hips, pressing your entire wet cunt directly down onto his face.

The heat of his skin against your folds was immediate and shocking. Jeongguk didn't hesitate for a single second, his hands clamped firmly onto the backs of your thighs, anchoring you in place as his mouth flattened against you. He parted his lips and buried his face entirely into your slick heat, his tongue delivering a long, heavy stroke that swiped all the way up from your base to your clit.

You let out a loud gasp, your fingers digging frantically into his shoulders as the ceiling swam above you. He was relentless. He used his tongue with a deep, crushing rhythm, lapping up the moisture you were producing while his thumbs pressed hard into your thighs to keep you from pulling away.

The contrast of his jaw against your sensitive skin sent violent shivers straight down your spine. He sucked at your center, drawing you into his mouth until you were completely breathless, your hips helplessly rolling against his face.

As the pressure built into a tight, unbearable coil, a wave of panic suddenly hit you through the haze. He was buried so deeply against you, taking the full weight, that you became terrified you were cutting off his air.

"Jeongguk, wait—" you choked out, suddenly forcing your weak legs to straighten as you pulled yourself up and away from his mouth.

Jeongguk’s head snapped up, his chest heaving as he took a sharp breath. His lips were slick and glistening , his hair completely messy. He looked up at you from the sofa, his eyes pitch-black and blazing with a desperate hunger that made your knees turn to water.

"What are you doing?" he said, his voice incredibly rough. "Why did you stop?"

"I’m afraid... I'm afraid I'm going to suffocate you," you stammered, your voice trembling as you looked down at him.

"Please." he almost pleaded.

Jeongguk let out a breathless sound that was half-laugh, half-growl. His hands shot out, his fingers locking onto your hips with a grip that left absolutely no room for negotiation. He pulled you right back down toward him.

"Please come back here and let me finish," he murmured against your skin, his tone a heavy, pleading command that vibrated directly against your thighs.

You couldn't fight him. You lowered your weight back down, and the moment his tongue slammed back into your clit, the tension that had been building all night completely snapped. He swiped over the sensitive bundle of nerves with a fast, merciless friction, sucking you deep into his mouth as his fingers dug into your skin.

A sharp, high whine tore from your throat as your core violently clenched. You cummed hard, your hips jerking uncontrollably against his face as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed through your body, turning your vision dark as you collapsed forward against him.

He didn't stop. Even as your body violently shuddered and your core clenched around nothing in the peak of the orgasm, Jeongguk stayed buried against you, his tongue moving in heavy, ruthless strokes to lap up every drop of your surrender.

The friction against your sensitive core kept you floating in a dazed, trembling suspension until the waves finally began to subside.

Before you could fully catch your breath, his hands found around your waist. Effortlessly, he lifted your limp, spent body and laid you flat on your back on the sofa, his eyes tracking the erratic rise and fall of your bare chest.

He stepped back just an inch, his movements fluid and focused as he discarded the rest of his clothes. His undone dress shirt and trousers hit the floorboards in a careless heap. Towering over you in the dim light, his muscled body looked intimidating.

He reached down into the pocket of his discarded jeans and fished out a small, square foil wrapper.

You blinked up at him through your glassy vision, your voice a soft rasp. "Did you... did you have one on you?"

"Yes," he murmured, his voice dropping as his thumbs smoothly tore open the packaging.

"Why?" you asked, a tiny, lingering spark of your usual defensiveness poking through the haze.

Jeongguk didn't look up, his jaw clenching as he rolled the latex over his rigid cock. "I always have one on me."

You let out a quiet, bitter scoff, turning your head slightly to stare at the fabric of the sofa cushion.

You forced your mind away from the implication, trying not to dwell too much on the reality of why a man like him always carried protection, or who else had been on the receiving end of that habit. Right now, under the heavy weight of your transactional pact, you couldn't afford to care.

With the latex securely in place, Jeongguk didn't just plunge inside. He leaned over you, his body completely eclipsing the silver moonlight as he settled his weight between your thighs.

Reaching down, he dragged the tip of his length through the slick moisture coating between your thighs, deliberately smearing your wetness all over his shaft. The cold contrast of the latex sliding against your burning heat made your hips twitch. He aligned himself perfectly, and then, with a sharp, calculated tilt of his hips, he slapped the flat of his head against your entrance.

Once. Twice.

The teasing impact made your breath catch, your hands instantly flying to grip the muscle of his biceps.

"Jeongguk..." you whimpered, your heels digging into the sofa.

He didn't make you wait anymore. With a single, heavy thrust, he drove his hips forward and finally entered you. The stretching fullness of him filling you to the absolute brim was so intense, so incredibly good, that a high, breathless yelp almost tore from your throat before you bit it back.

Jeongguk let out a long, guttural grunt, his eyes shutting tight as he buried himself all the way to his hilt, his lower body pinning you flat against the sofa. He stayed perfectly still for a heavy beat, letting your walls stretch and adjust to his size.

His hand came down, his warm palm slapping the sensitive skin of your inner thigh in a firm, caressing manner—an anchoring touch.

"That’s it, Void," he growled against your ear, his voice rough. "That’s it... atta girl. Fuck, you’re so tight around me."

He started to move, pulling back slowly until he was nearly out, before plunging right back in with a thud. A broken moan escaped your lips, your head tossing to the side as the friction began to build a brand new fire in your stomach.

"Please," you gasped out, your fingers scratching against the smooth skin of his back. "Jeongguk, faster."

A breathless chuckle rumbled in his chest, his pace quickening in response to your begging. "Faster? You want me to break you? Look at me, Void. Open your eyes and look at who's inside you."

You forced your heavy eyes open, staring up into the darkness of his pupils. He was looking down at you with a burning intensity, his jaw clenched so hard the muscle violently ticked with every deep, merciless thrust he delivered.

The wet, slapping sound of your bodies colliding filled the apartment, drowning out the rest of the world.

"A-ah... Jeongguk, fuck," you cried out, your voice cracking as he hit a spot deep inside that made your toes curl. Another loud, unhinged moan stumbled past your lips, your hips helplessly rising to meet his down-stroke, entirely chasing the friction.

"Yeah, scream my name," he commanded, his breath coming in short, ragged pants as he gripped your hips with bruising force, slamming himself into you with a relentless, driving speed. "Let me hear exactly who is erasing that asshole from your mind. Tell me who owns this mouth, Void. Tell me who's fucking you right now."

"You," you sobbed out, completely undone by the blinding pleasure, your walls clenching around him in tight, frantic waves. "You are... Jeongguk, please."

"Good bambi," he rasped, a smirk pulling at his lips just before he buried his face in your neck to deliver open mouthed kisses, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper, and unhinged as he chased his own release inside you.

You almost got stuck on the new nickname, your mind fracturing for a fraction of a second as you tried to process the soft edge of it, but before you could even blink, Jeongguk delivered another deep, punishing thrust that completely shattered your train of thought.

"A-ah!" a high, breathless cry tore from your throat, your head tossing back against the sofa as the blunt force of his hips pinned you flat.

The friction was becoming entirely too much. The tight, coils of tension that had barely settled from before were snapping right back into place, tightening around your core with a frantic, blinding speed. Your fingers dug so hard into the sweating muscle of his shoulders that your nails left red crescents on his skin.

"Jeongguk, I'm... I'm close," you gasped out, your voice cracking with a desperate honesty. You couldn't hide it from him. You didn't even want to.

His eyes blazed at your confession, the pupils completely blown out as he took in your flushed face and dazed stare. A low, moan escaped his chest, and his grip on your hips tightened until his knuckles turned white, anchoring your pelvis completely to his whim.

"Then come for me," he rasped. "Clench around me and show me exactly how good I feel inside you. Don't you dare hold back."

He shifted his angle slightly, lifting your thighs higher over his shoulders to drive himself in even deeper.

The change in depth was devastating.

With every relentless, heavy thud of his hips, he hit the sensitive spot at your crest, sending violent jolts of electricity straight down to your toes.

You were entirely at his mercy, your body shaking as you sobbed out his name against the column of his neck. The wet, rhythmic friction of your bodies colliding filled the room, a fast cadence that matched the frantic hammering of your heart.

"Look at me while you do it," he commanded, his voice a breathless rasp as his jaw clenched violently. "Open your eyes, Void. Look at me."

You forced your eyelids open, staring directly into the terrifying, beautiful depth of his focus. The intensity of his gaze, combined with the brutal, driving speed of his lower body, was the final catalyst.

Your walls violently spasmed, clamping down around his cock in tight, electric, frantic waves as your orgasm finally tore through you. You cummed hard, a loud, broken moan trembling past your lips as your hips arched helplessly off the sofa, completely lost to the blinding heat of the release.

Jeongguk let out a final, guttural moan as your walls finally stopped pulsing around him. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled his hips back, the wet friction of his exit leaving you cold and instantly aching in the dim apartment. He stood up slightly, his shoulders casting a heavy shadow over you as he effortlessly peeled off the spent latex and tossed it toward the trash can by the desk.

You blinked up at him, your head still swimming heavily from the high of the orgasm he had just pulled out of you.

Through the hazy confusion, your eyes tracked his movement as he settled back on the edge of the sofa, right beside your hip.

He didn't sit down. Instead, he reached down and nudged the heavy, still-rigid length of his dick toward your face, his eyes boring into yours with a quiet intensity.

"Finish me off," he murmured.

You didn't offer a verbal reply. Your throat felt entirely too dry, and the reckless edge of the alcohol was still driving your limbs.

Shifting your position on the cushions, you dragged your body around until you were kneeling before him once more, completely uncaring that you were probably dripping your own slick juices directly onto his expensive sofa. The boundaries of your pride had been thoroughly incinerated hours ago.

Jeongguk’s jaw clenched, his eyes tracking the wet smear you left on the fabric. He tilted his chin down, his thumb coming up to catch a stray tear from your cheek. "Do you want to?" he asked, his voice softening just a fraction, offering you one last chance to pull back.

You didn't reply again. Words were useless now. Instead, you leaned forward and simply latched your lips around the burning tip of his cock, your warm tongue immediately swiping over the sensitive slit.

A broken groan stumbled past his lips, his head tossing back as his fingers instantly buried themselves deep into your hair. He didn't waste any time. His hips began to roll in a slow, punishing rhythm, guiding his length deep into the wet heat of your mouth before pulling back, testing the limits of your throat.

The heat of him was intoxicating. You wrapped one hand around his base, pumping him in perfect synchronization with the steady, greedy movements of your lips. Every time you sucked him down to his root, your nose burying into his pubic bone, he let out a rough, ragged moan that vibrated directly against your teeth.

"Fuck... just like that," he choked out, his grip in your hair tightening until it was a commanding anchor, forcing you to take the full depth of him. "You're so good at this. Keep going. Don't stop."

The pace grew frantic. You could feel the sudden tension taking over his entire body.

The muscles of his thighs turned to iron beneath your knees, and his breath came in short, desperate pants. The heavy pulse of his length quickened against your tongue, signaling that he was right on the edge. He gave three more deep thrusts into your mouth, his jaw clenching so hard it looked like marble in the moonlight.

"Void—fuck, I'm gonna—"

You nodded against him and he took that as all the confirmation he needed.

With a loud, guttural cry that tore from the very back of his throat, Jeongguk stiffened completely, his fingers locking hard against your scalp as he came.

The sudden, thick burst of his release flooded your mouth, hot and heavy, completely coating your tongue. It tasted intensely masculine—sharp, salty, and thick.

You held perfectly still, your eyes wide and glassy as you took the full force of him, your throat working involuntarily under the sheer volume.

He panted heavily, his chest heaving as the final twitches of his release subsided. He didn't let you pull away just yet. His eyes flicked down to your face, heavy-lidded and burning with a lazy, dominant satisfaction as he looked at your slick lips.

"Swallow it," he commanded softly, his rough thumb tracing the line of your lower jaw, a dangerous smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

You didn’t know why the hell it turned you on so much. You hated being told what to do.

Under any other circumstances, a demand like that would have made you snap your teeth closed.

But right now, it wasn't the alcohol driving you—it was the clawing, desperate want in your chest to absorb absolutely anything related to him. You wanted to swallow it.

You wanted to take every part of him into yourself, and the dominance of the command itself only poured gasoline on the fire.

So you did. You swallowed, your throat working against the thick, hot heat of him until you had taken every single drop. You swiped the flat of your tongue over your bottom lip to catch the stray, slick moisture, staring up at him through your lashes with a dazed, defiant focus.

Jeongguk watched your throat move, a gravelly hum of satisfaction vibrating deep in his chest. The weight of his hand remained anchored at your jaw, his thumb smoothing over your flushed skin before his fingers tightened, tilting your face up just a fraction more.

"Atta girl," he murmured.

Before you could even draw a clean breath, he leaned down and kissed you again.

It wasn't the bruising collision from before, but something far more possessive and consuming. His mouth slammed over yours, his tongue instantly sliding past your teeth to taste himself on you, completely reclaiming the heat you had just swallowed.

When the kiss finally broke, the last of your adrenaline drained away all at once. You fell backward onto the couch, your limbs feeling completely like lead. Your eyelids fluttered, a heavy wave of exhaustion washing over you as you stared blankly up at the ceiling.

The alcohol, the emotional wreckage from the gala, and the intensity of what had just happened left you thoroughly spent.

You were tired. So very tired.

Closing your eyes, you let out a ragged sigh and mumbled, "I should go home."

Jeongguk didn't move immediately. He sat on the edge of the cushion, his breathing finally slowing down as he looked down at your limp form. "I could take you home..." he began softly, his voice carrying a rare, quiet gentleness, "...or you could sleep here."

The word sleep triggered a sudden, defensive spike in your hazy brain. Your eyes snapped open, and you weakly lifted a hand to protest. "No... we're not sleeping together. That's not part of the deal."

Jeongguk let out a low, breathy chuckle, his shoulders relaxing completely. "Chill, Void. We just did."

As he spoke, he looked down at you and gave you a genuine, soft smile. In your post-sex haze, stripped of your usual cynical nature, it was probably the sweetest, most unguarded expression you had ever seen on his face.

It made your chest tighten in an unfamiliar way.

"I’m kidding," he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow circle on your bare knee. "I’ll take the couch. You can take my bed."

You paused, your sluggish mind trying to weigh the options. You pondered it for a long beat. You were so incredibly tired. The clock on his desk read well past two in the morning, and the thought of putting that dress back on and hailing a cab made your stomach churn.

"Fine," you finally agreed, your voice barely a whisper. You shifted on the cushions, pointing a finger at him with what little strength you had left. "Under one condition. You give me a shirt. I’m not sleeping naked."

Jeongguk’s smile quirked up at the corners, a lazy, satisfied glint returning to his eyes. "Deal."

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tags: @forelskoo261 o @svitozz