#hesitation

First, he manages to convince his way into your apartment. Over the weeks, he’s gotten better at it. Or maybe you’ve just gotten worse at resisting. Either way, it’s starting to recur with alarming frequency.

Tonight, it was one of his favorite excuses that landed him next to you on your comfortable but slightly worn couch. There was a new movie out that he just had to show you. Something scary that’s apparently been taking everyone’s Twitter feed by storm.

His facade was flimsy from the beginning, mostly because you already know that he’s an absolute baby when it comes to horror films. The last time he used a similar excuse, the only parts of the movie he managed to watch were from behind his fingers.

Then again, the movie itself was never his end goal.

Jungwon’s patient when he wants to be, but he never lets the opening credits roll without sneaking his way a little closer to you. Thigh pressed against yours, arm slung across the back on the couch, fingers toying with the strap of your bra just under your shirt.

You can never decide if you should roll your eyes or press your legs together a little more firmly to stop yourself from squirming under his ministrations.

Then, he pretends to watch whatever plays out on the screen. Will even lean over and whisper little comments, something about filming locations or actor feuds or plot predictions you have half a mind to suspect he just looked up on Wikipedia before coming over.

With every new comment, he lets himself get a little closer. Until you feel his words more than you hear them.

Lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he tells you about broken box office records and controversial interviews.

You’re no better, of course. After he’s done with you, you could hardly give an accurate plot synopsis. And the way little shivers flutter down your spine every time he gets closer is a dead giveaway that you know exactly what his game is.

You do. You’d have to be an idiot not to, at this point. Even if a movie night wasn’t the oldest trick in the book, it’s landed Jungwon and you in a similar position more than half a dozen times by now.

You know what he’s doing. You’re letting it happen.

Pretending to protest when he lets his latest whispered fact about fake blood capsules turn into an actual kiss, pressed just below your earlobe.

“Jungwon,” you warn.

“What?” he pulls back, only barely. Eyes already heavy-lidded, the way he looks at you is dangerous.

He’s unabashed, shameless in the way he lets his gaze fall from your eyes to your lips before slowly dragging them back up.

It’s not subtle, but he’s been paying attention over the weeks, too. He knows he doesn’t have to be.

Still, he always hovers there for just a moment. Eyes locked on yours like he can feel the way your heart is hammering so hard you think it’s trying to escape your chest.

Like he loves the way your thighs start to fidget, a dead giveaway of exactly where your mind has gone.

Tonight, the screen behind you flashes with another jumpscare.

Neither of you notice. Neither of you care.

Jungwon lets his eyelids flutter shut before leaning in. Slowly, but deliberately. All the way until his lips press against yours.

It’s chaste at first. His arm falls from the back of the couch to curl around your shoulder, something possessive in his grip.

He kisses you, mouth closed, eyes screwed shut. Lets his mouth cover as much territory as it can, pressing his lips against the corner of your mouth, the curve of your cheekbone, the junction of your jaw.

But he always comes back to your lips. And this time, it’s with renowned fervency.

Lips parting, he pulls your bottom lip between both of his. Lets his tongue start to wander. Lets his teeth start to tease.

The first time he’d kissed you, really kissed you, it took you longer than usual to find your rhythm.

It wasn’t a fault of his abilities. Just the fact that before Jungwon, you’d never known anyone that liked to make out so messy.

But he’s obsessed with it. Heavy, deep, open-mouthed kissing that leaves your lips sticky and swollen and covered in him.

Now, you’ve had time to adjust. To understand that a refined, even rhythm was never what he was going for.

Not when he wraps his hand around the curve of your cheekbone to angle you better.

When he pulls back slightly to press his thumb against the corner of your lips, watching with a heavy gaze as you bend to his silent request.

Slowly, you part your lips, let his thumb slide beteeen them. Eyes locked on his, you press your tongue against the intrusion, mouth closing around his thumb as he slides it deeper past your lips.

You can’t help it, the way your eyes screw shut for a moment before finding his gaze again. The way a sudden, desperate whine is pulled from somewhere deep in you, reverberating around his finger.

Eyes heavy, focus zeroed in on every micro expression you make, Jungwon pushes the pad of his thumb a bit more firmly against your tongue. And then releases a low, breathy groan when he feels you suck.

And then, like he can’t quite help himself, he leans back in. His doesn’t pull his thumb from your mouth, not entirely. Instead, he just slides it over, out of the way as his lips cover yours again, hungrier now. So heated, so desperate, it’s almost feverish.

He leaves his thumb there too, uses it as leverage to keep your mouth as open as he wants. To let his tongue find yours and encourage you to slide it further into his waiting mouth. Until he can return the favor by closing his lips around it, tugging gently before he sucks.

He releases it with a popping sound that reverberates around your living room, quiet except for the moan that gets half stuck in your throat and the low drawl of yet another forgotten movie.

Someone on the screen screams in terror. Jungwon bites at your bottom lip, tugging gently before replacing his teeth with his tongue.

There’s something about it for him, you’ve realized — seeing you like this. Messy, pliant, covered in the evidence of heavy, wet kisses that leave your lips spit-slick and swollen.

It eats at his control. Like the idea of you letting him touch you like this, cover you in him like this, does more to him than you can imagine.

It’s why most nights, Jungwon only manages to put you through a solid ten minutes of making out before his hands start to wander further.

Before his fingers start to dip beneath your waistband. Until you’re too lost to the sensation to kiss him back properly.

He never minds. He just keeps his mouth against yours. Open, still searching, still licking into you, while his fingers in your underwear make your jaw fall slack, swallowing all the pathetic little whimpers that escape from your throat.

But tonight, his hands stay in infuriatingly neutral places. Dipping beneath the fabric of your shirt as his palms splay across your stomach. Teasing along your collarbone, your throat.

Wide against your cheek as he angles you to his liking. Tangled in your hair when he pulls — gently, but with no room for argument. Dipping back into the space between your parted lips when he decides he needs you more open to make a better mess of you.

Time is a flighty thing, but you can tell he’s been chasing your lips for longer than usual. That no matter how many times you adjust your position, tilt your hips in search of friction, his hands refuse to wander any lower.

It confuses you. For one, you can tell that he’s hard. Straining against his grey sweatpants in a way that would usually inspire more urgency than the lazy, deep, wet kisses he still presses into you.

Until now, you’ve always been a follower. Happy to let him set the pace and the tone when it comes to the bedroom.

But maybe tonight he’s waiting for you to be the bold one.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you squirm even more — the thought of him falling apart against you, mouth slack on yours with your hand wrapped around him.

So, a bit timidly but still undeterred, you let your palm start to slide forward. Tracing his upper thigh until it’s all the way—

Jungwon’s hand slides out of your hair, falls to meet yours. And stops it dead in its tracks.

A frown pulls at your face, furrow between your eyebrows appearing as he slides his tongue against yours again.

You try to pull back, but his mouth chases yours. It’s even messier, hotter, wetter now that you’ve thrown his aim off. Like he’s terrified of breaking contact and all the more desperate because of it.

Bringing your other hand to his chest, you press firmly against him. He takes the hint well enough. Finally, he stops for long enough to allow you to speak, but not before pressing a final, surprisingly chaste kiss against your reddened bottom lip.

Only scant inches between you, his eyes bore into yours.

He’s a mess, too. Wet, swollen lips, flushed cheeks, hair messy where it falls over his forehead. Eyes heavy and still narrowed in intent. So completely fucked out from nothing but kissing.

You have half a mind to just pull him back into you.

But the frown is still pulling at your brows.

“Jungwon,” you mumble, suddenly a bit unsure how to approach this.

“Mm,” he hums, pressing an errant kiss to the tip of your nose like he just can’t help himself.

“Why did you…” you trail off, eyes falling to wear your other hand still lies enclosed in his. Resting against his upper thigh, only inches from your original intent.

Even without saying it directly, he knows what you mean.

His hand around yours squeezes, reassuring like he can tell that the gears in your mind have started spinning.

“I just…” he starts voice low, hoarse. Scraped raw from his previous ministration. There’s something vulnerable in his gaze when he asks, “Can we just kiss?”

A flicker of surprise crosses your features, quickly replaced with a resigned sort of acceptance.

Maybe this is it, you suppose. The beginning of the end. He’s found some other girl to keep him entertained. Maybe she’s better at this than you.

Maybe this is just the beginning of his evening and he’ll make an excuse to leave an go see her soon.

You hate it, the deep twist of jealousy that wrings your gut out unpleasantly. It’s not fair, probably, but you decide that you hate her, whoever this other girl is.

Then again, maybe you should be relieved. This whole thing with Jungwon was never meant to be serious after all. Just a way to blow off some steam.

Maybe it’s better to let it fizzle early, naturally.

After all, you don’t think there’s much you wouldn’t agree to when he sits in your couch with his smile and dimples and easy sort of comfort. When he’s got his fingers in your mouth and his lips insistent against yours.

That kind of power, the thought of him having it over you, is terrifying.

So yeah, it’s probably best to just call things off. Before you run the risk of getting too attached. Before you start obsessing over ridiculous things like the idea of him whining against your mouth, jaw slack as you work your hand against him under the waistband of his sweatpants.

You nod, about to pull away, when Jungwon’s hand wraps around the back of your neck. He lowers his lips again, until they’re brushing against yours.

All of a sudden, your heart is hammering, drilling against your rib cage.

“Had the shittiest day,” he mumbles, pulling your lip between his lazily. “Everyone was so annoying.” His tongue is back in the mix now, traces the seam of your lips. “All I could think about was this. Getting my mouth on you.”

“But you…” You frown. You still don’t get it. He’s not leaving for round two with someone else? “You’re hard,” you point out.

“Yeah,” Jungwon’s laugh is more exhale than sound. “I’ve been stressed as hell all day and now I’ve got my mouth on the prettiest girl in the world.” He smiles then, a little dopey as he pushes a strand of hair away from your face. “Of course I’m hard.”

“But you don’t…” You’re still so confused. And now, another feeling is starting to seep in. Fear. Something about it, the idea of him coming over here with nothing but the intent to make out like teenagers, is so horribly intimate you want to die a little. “You don’t want me to do anything about it?”

“Not tonight,” he shakes his head. “Feel free to ask me again in the morning, though.” His smirk is short-lived, melting quickly into a smile so genuine you’re not sure what to do with it.

The morning.

The morning.

He’s not running off to some other girl. He’s not tired of you and trying to craft an early exit. He’s sleeping over, and you’re not even having sex.

You have no idea what to do with that.

As if he can see the gears in your head spinning on full speed, Jungwon decides the best way to ease your worries is to distract you.

Or rather, to pull you back to him until your mind and your mouth and your senses are too full of him to leave room for anything else.

For now, at least, it works. You let your words and your worries and your questions die on your lips as he replaces them with his own.

You let him make a mess of you for long minutes, reveling in the tension that builds, the heat that generates slowly, more steadily than usual.

It’s frustrating in the most delicious way. The thrill of denying the unmistakable ache building deep in both of you.

The undeniable intimacy of choosing this instead. Of letting breaths mingle, lips explore, swallowing sighs, knowing it’s not going any further.

Of knowing that for tonight, this fulfills whatever need he came to you with. That he’s staying. That you’ll have the morning to see what desires you’re ready to explore then.

Jungwon is still hard in his sweatpants, and youre still chasing friction you can’t quite find. But it disrupts the illusion of urgency. It makes kissing, making out for hours in your couch like teenagers, feel like a luxury instead of a punishment.

The fear is still there, even if he’s good at burying it.

Because Jungwon has a pattern, but tonight he strayed from it. Found another way to lower your defenses. To catch you entirely off guard.

Someone that can do that so easily is dangerous. Will probably have terrible consequences for you and your poor little heart.

But for now, you just close your eyes, letting him make a mess of your lips and your hair and your heart.

You can deal with the consequences in the morning, you figure. Can let the doubt he eases with gentle touches redouble.