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The sun was barely up, casting only a grayish tint across the sky as night gave way to day. It was a peaceful morning for sure, with only a couple coaches and carriages traversing Paris before it truly woke up. One particular coach gently rocked its inhabitants as the wheels rattled over cobblestone.

Inside the coach, Leonardo sat beside Dawn with his hands loosely folded in his lap. Dawn looked out the small window, but he could tell her eyelids were heavy, each blink slower than the last. 

It made sense, considering he knocked on her door at an ungodly hour to wake her up and urged her to get dressed with haste. He was actually impressed how quickly she came out of her room. She dressed practically—as he expected her to—in an ivory blouse tucked into a cinnamon brown skirt, brought together with a thick belt that made him think of the color of cognac. In preparation for a chilly morning, she covered her shoulders with a charcoal cloak.

As for her hair, she was in the middle of plaiting it with deft fingers behind her head when she exited her room. A copper-toned ribbon was held between her teeth until she had weaved her hair past the nape of her neck. Once she secured her hair near the bottom of her hairline, she finished by untangling the remaining length into a soft ponytail.

Now that they were in their coach heading to their destination, it seemed Dawn's sleepiness was catching back up to her. Only minutes after they began their journey did Leonardo feel the weight of her head lean against his shoulder. He looked down and saw she had completely succumbed to slumber, her cloak tightly wrapped around her like a blanket. 

All he could do was release a quiet breath through his nose, but smile softly at how peaceful she looked. It was going to be about 20 more minutes before their arrival, so he would let her rest. Leo kept still as to not jostle her awake, but made sure his compagna provvisoria remained comfortable for the ride to the market.

*~*~*

“Cara mia.”

Dawn's eyes began to move, slowly adjusting to the light creeping through the curtain of the coach. Her nose scrunched and her eyes squinted, her face and body slowly coming to life. It took her a moment to regain a sense of her location, to remember that Leo had abruptly woken her before the sun was even considering the beginning of the day and rushed them into a coach. 

It seemed she had drifted asleep, but the cat nap did her some good. She felt more refreshed than agitated, and the coach was surprisingly comfortable. 

… I am not leaning against the coach.

Her head had not moved yet, but her eyes were adjusting exceedingly fast. No, she was not leaning against the coach. She was leaning against something warm, solid… breathing.

Sure enough, the fabric she was feeling was Leo's overcoat, its wine-colored sleeve cushioning her cheek against his arm. As she slowly looked up, she was met with his warm eyes of gold. His long, dark ash-brown bangs fell to the front of his face, somehow making his already brilliant eyes shine brighter.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Leo did not move nor speak. She was worried he would have something snarky to say, like when she mocked him for snoring when they went to Le Pré-du-Bois, but he did no such thing.

Dawn slowly raised herself upright. She felt a yawn coming as she clumsily rubbed her eyes awake with the base of her palms. I can't believe I fell asleep, she thought to herself. She shook the thought away before looking up again. Leo barely moved at all. He simply sat patiently, waiting for her.

Awkwardly, she waved hello.

Leo let out a small laugh, finding her good morning gesture endearing, if not comical. “Come,” he said, finally breaking their silence, “we are here.”

He opened the door and exited, then held out his hand for her to take. She gave herself a moment to compose herself, breathing in deeply and remembering they were on a “date”, before smiling and accepting his hand.

Outside, the morning light was much brighter, warmer. There was a golden glow enveloping everything around her. She could see all of the vendors setting up their stalls, the sounds becoming a natural white noise. 

But the smell. Oh God, the smell. It was the warmest, sweetest scent that filled her nostrils. She couldn't tell where it was coming from. Maybe it was coming from multiple places. Maybe it was wafting on the breeze that tussled the loose strands of her hair that did not want to stay in her braid.

It didn't matter. It smelled absolutely divine. She needed to find the source.

Leo led Dawn down the street, nestling her comfortably into the crook of his elbow as they walked. She noticed how Leo took smaller, slower steps to match her pace, carefully guiding her around the passing people and the occasional uneven stone. Somehow, he made it feel as though they were in their own small bubble, untouched by the bustle of Paris waking around them.

Her nose lifted into the air, realizing the scents she had wanted to find were becoming stronger. As she looked around, she saw a bakery with its door open, and Leo was walking her straight to it. 

Inside, there was only one other customer being helped by an older woman. This woman was short, just an inch taller than Dawn was, with a plump figure but strength and energy abundant in how she carried herself. She had her gray hair pulled back into a bun with a sweet, welcoming smile as she spoke to the customer. Even her wrinkles had a way of smiling when she did.

Once she saw them come in, she flashed with a wide grin. “Bonjour et bienvenue (Good morning and welcome!)” Her greeting was so warm and energetic.

“Bonjour, Odette (Good morning, Odette),” Leonardo responded. It sounded like he was well acquainted with the shopkeeper.

“OH! Leonardo!” Dawn was amazed that Odette was capable of being even more happy to greet them as soon as she realized who Leo was. “Dis donc, cela fait un bon moment que tu n'étais pas passé nous voir. (My, it has been some time since you stopped by!)” She walked across the shop floor and she placed her hands on his cheeks, as if she was a motherly figure to him. “C'est tellement agréable de te voir. (It is so good to see you.)” Then, she eyed Dawn. Her eyes glistened with knowing excitement. “Et en compagnie! (And with company!)”

Suddenly, she smacked Leonardo on the arm. “Il est grand temps que tu trouves une femme pour toi. Tu es bien trop beau pour continuer à te comporter comme un séducteur insouciant avec toutes ces jeunes filles. (It's about time you found a woman for yourself. You're too handsome to remain a troublesome tease for all the debutantes.)”

And just as quickly, she turned her attention to Dawn. “Quelle chance tu as! (You lucky girl!)” she commented. All Dawn could do was smile in bewilderment, not sure what was going on. But, when she glanced at Leo for some context, he just smiled and nodded—utterly unhelpful—like she was just supposed to accept this without question. 

Odette approached Dawn and, similar to how she treated Leonardo, her hands were on Dawn's cheeks. They were surprisingly warm. “Tellement beau aussi. (So beautiful, too.)” She leaned closer, paying close attention to Dawn's eyes. “Hah, et avec des yeux tout aussi colorés que les tiens, Leonardo. (Hah, and with just as colorful eyes as you, Leonardo.)”

Is she supposed to be this handsy with someone she just met?

“Odette,” Leonardo chuckled, “Je pense que vous risquez de submerger mon compagnon par votre gentillesse. (I think you may be overwhelming my companion with your kindness.)”

The older woman took one last look at Dawn, seeing the forced smile that was too kind to say “please stop”, then stepping back some. Still, she held that same, sweet, genuine expression of happiness.  “Je vous prie de m'excuser, ma chère. Maintenant (My apologies, dear. Now),” she said, addressing them both, “que puis-je vous servir  (what can I get for you two?)”

Leo caught Dawn's attention and tilted his head towards the display of foods and pastries. They had a display case filled with croissants, eclairs, tarts, buns, and slices of breads ranging from plain to fruity to chocolate-infused. The warmth in the bakery already let Dawn know they were fresh from the oven—the best time to bite into a treat.

“Tout d'abord, une tasse de café pour ma dame (First, a cup of coffee for my lady),” Leo told Odette. “J'ai peut-être interrompu son sommeil réparateur pour l'amener ici le plus tôt possible… (I may have disturbed her beauty sleep to bring her here as early as possible…)”

Odette laughed, her sound ringing with joy, “Je devrais me sentir flatté que vous ayez risqué de vous faire réprimander, même si c'est peut-être mon devoir de vous en protéger. Je vous l'offre gratuitement en guise de remerciement pour votre fidélité. (I should feel flattered that you risked a scolding—though perhaps it’s my duty to protect you from it. I’ll offer it for free as a thank-you for your patronage.)”

Dawn could hear the lighthearted conversation, but her focus was on the enticing display of sweets. There were tarts covered in seasonal fruits, éclairs covered in glossy glazes, sweet buns of different shapes with different fillings, and croissants aplenty. Her mouth started to salivate, imagining how everything tasted. 

“Cara mia.” 

Leonardo's voice pulled her out of her trance to see him holding a small ceramic cup filled with steaming coffee. She graciously accepted, tapping her chin and pulling her hand away, thanking him. As she took a sip, the subtle bitterness of the coffee jolted her senses awake but the warmth as it traveled down her throat to her stomach eased her into a comforting bliss. 

She felt his hand press gently on the small of her back, urging her forward a step. Leo leaned toward her ear and whispered, “Pick whatever you like,” enticing her to choose freely. She looked up, asking only with her eyes if he was serious. Of course, all he did was direct her attention to the pastries again with a nudge of his head. 

Oh, crap.

Was the baked apple tart the right choice for this early in the morning? No, it was more dessert-like. Oh, maybe the éclair. But, the chocolate or the coffee-flavored one? She already held a cup of coffee, so maybe not the éclair dressed like a tiramisu. Although, the sweet buns looked delightful. The idea of cherries within the soft texture of a brioche sounded wonderful, and the honey bun with candied orange peels also looked sweet and quite bold with the flavors. Oh, but back to the tarts! Lemon tarts were so classic and punchy, almost anything that was a pastry with lemon was bound to be delicious. And yet, there was the raspberry and almond tart. And that cream beneath the toppings would probably be velvety…

Her eyes bounced back and forth multiple times. Fruity? Chocolatey? Classic? Which one?!

Leonardo watched her eyes move—too quickly, too carefully. Not the look of someone deciding what they wanted, but of someone measuring, weighing, editing herself down.

At last, she lifted a hand and pointed. Not at the tarts. Not at the buns. She pointed to one of the plain croissants.

Leonardo blinked once. Of all the things in the case—of all the color and sugar and fruit that had clearly held her captive only moments ago—that was what she chose?

Odette, feeling the slight tension between them, followed his gaze then looked back at Dawn. She didn’t comment.

Leonardo’s mouth twitched, thoughtful rather than amused. He nodded once. “Un croissant (One croissant),” he said calmly.

Odette reached for it.

“Et une tarte aux framboises et aux amandes. (And one raspberry almond tart),” Leonardo added just as easily.

Odette’s brows lifted—just slightly—but she complied, setting the tart beside the croissant.

Dawn’s eyes widened. She shook her head quickly, lifting her hand and signing, “No.”

Leonardo paid no mind to her plea. “Et la tarte aux pommes cuite au four (And the baked apple tart),” he continued.

Odette glanced between them now, understanding dawning in her eyes. She made eye contact with Leonardo before placing the tart down with deliberate care.

Dawn tugged lightly at Leonardo’s sleeve, her movements flustered. She pointed again to the croissant, insistently this time.

Only then did Leonardo turn to her. He leaned in—not touching, not crowding—but close enough that his voice was meant only for her. His mouth brushed near her ear, his tone low, steady. “I see what you are doing, cara mia,” he murmured. “You’re holding back because you don’t wish to be a burden.”

He paused, just long enough for that truth to land.

“I brought you here because I want to know what you like,” he continued softly. “Not what you think is acceptable.” He straightened, giving her space again, and gestured gently toward the display. “Show me what you really want.”

Odette, bless her, didn’t rush. She simply waited, hands folded, eyes warm.

Dawn hesitated. Then, slowly, she lifted her hand again. She didn't point to the croissant this time, but rather the brioche bun filled with cherries.

Leonardo smiled—not broadly, not triumphantly—but with quiet satisfaction. “Celui-la (That one),” he said.

Her hand hovered, then pointed again. The raspberry almond tart.

“Et celui-là (And that one),” he added.

She stopped there. Looked up at him, searching his face for some sign she’d gone too far.

He only nodded. “That’s enough,” he said gently. “For now.” 

Dawn swallowed, then took the final sip of her coffee. He wasn't going to let this go.

Odette wrapped the pastries with care, her smile saying everything she politely didn’t.

As Leonardo paid, he leaned down once more—not to whisper this time, but close enough that she felt the warmth of him beside her.

“You did well,” he said quietly. She glanced up, feeling more than just the warmth of his body but also the warmth of his smile and his gaze. 

“You know the rule, right? If you toast the sky, the sky sends someone over.”

You laugh, deciding it wouldn’t kill you to let a handsome man indulge you for a moment, and motion for him to sit down. Celebrations were more meaningful with someone else after all. 

“What are we toasting?” He asks, bringing his glass to clink against yours, the sound merry and satisfying. 

“A promotion,” you say proudly and sip, relishing the bubbles that burst on your tongue. 

“Congratulations.” The man takes a swig from his glass. “I take it you’re new to Seoul?” he asks, and you bite your lip, unsure about how honest you should be. Seeing your expression, the man raises his hands in a gesture of peace.

“I only ask because I’m an expat. This is the go-to place for most people experiencing Seoul for the first time.” 

You grin at him. “All right you caught me. But it’s Google’s fault. It recommended this place to me.”

“I see. And what were you looking for?”

“Best place for a foreigner celebrating a promotion to get a drink,” you say sheepishly, ducking behind your glass. 

The man laughs, a deep rumble like the opening thunder preceding a rainstorm, his chest trembling from the force, and it hits you how ridiculously attractive he is. Not just good, old-fashioned, attractive, ridiculously attractive. The kind depicted in cartoons where women floated in the air with hearts in their eyes as the male heartthrob passed by. 

“I suppose that would have done the trick.” He sets down his glass. “I’m Sylus, by the way.” He offers his hand, and you accept it, a tickle of exhilaration running down your spine at the contact. You give him your name, and he lingers, letting your hand rest on his palm beyond what was considered typical for a handshake. Your questioning gaze has him smiling, and he runs a calloused thumb over your knuckles, sending your heart into a frenzy. 

“Is the promotion the only reason you moved?” Sylus asks, letting go of your hand and you feel the loss of contact keenly, wishing you could reach over and grasp it once more. Instead, you focus on his question.

“Oh, I haven’t moved here,” you explain. “I’m here to help set up my company’s new branch. I’m only in Seoul for a month.”

You thought you saw a flicker of disappointment on his face (had you imagined it?) before you continued. “What do you do?” you ask politely, and Sylus drains his glass before replying. 

“I’m an independent market analyst.” Seeing your inquisitive expression, he adds, “I help people understand the market they’re looking to expand into.” 

“Independent?” you lean back in your chair. “That’s impressive. I’m guessing you were fed up with a 9-5?”

“That’s one of many reasons, yes. I value my time and my life. It was the best way for me to hustle while also having a personal life.”  

You respected that. Working as an independent contractor sounded nice, but you knew you could never get over the fear of having a dry month and being unable to pay bills. It felt like extra effort, networking to find clients for work. 

“I wish I had that sort of confidence. I like knowing there’s money coming, even if I’m on someone else’s clock.” You shoot a (hopefully subtle) admiring look his way, before asking, “How long have you been in Seoul?” 

“A few years now.” 

“And do you like living as an expat?”

“I do. It enables me to understand what people are looking for, which in turn makes it easier for me to help my clients.”

Fascinated, you lean forward and rest your arms on the table. “How long have you been away from home?”

“Home?” Sylus looks thoughtful before replying. “I don’t think I’ve ever considered anywhere my real home. I can make a home anywhere.”

You consider his words. “I can see the appeal in that. However, doesn’t it get lonely?” Your question catches him off guard and his eyebrows knit together in confusion, like he hadn’t considered this a possibility, and you hasten to clarify. “All I meant was that kind of freedom requires a tolerance for solitude.”

“Yes, it does,” he says measuredly. “But I like to think of it as maximizing the lives I’ve lived within a short human lifespan. It’s certainly not for everyone, but it doesn’t get boring.” His eyes glitter as he recalls his experiences. “Whether it’s Tokyo during cherry blossom season, Zurich at Christmas time, or Mardi Gras in Rio De Janeiro. There’s too much to see to be content with staying in one place forever.” 

There’s passion and excitement in his words, the allure of all the freedom in the world, and the confidence that there was nothing to be missed outside this lifestyle. It was fascinating to see how fulfilled he was, yet you were already aching for the comforts of home, almost like him talking about his ways as an expat only highlighted how much you yearned for a place to call your own.  

“So what’s a seasoned expat doing at a newbie hangout?” you ask and this time, it’s unmistakable; Sylus pauses and his features morph into confusion, as though he himself isn’t sure. He taps the side of his glass, wondering. 

“It’s been a while since I last came here. Perhaps, I was feeling nostalgic. Wanted to relive my first time coming to Seoul. Or maybe, the universe saw a young woman toasting herself and decided she should have some company.” His authenticity resonates deep within your bones, a little hum of acceptance.

“Or if you’re superstitious, maybe we were meant to meet. After all, who better than a market analyst to help a professional learning the Korean market?” 

Your heart thumps in your chest as you consider his words. He’s quiet, patiently waiting for you to respond, ball entirely in your court. Your mind was warning you against trusting a stranger, but something hung in the air, a spark, a feeling of kinship, whatever the poets called it.  

Suspicion was your default state. Though you weren’t alone on this trip (the company had sent a representative fluent in Korean) you weren’t thinking about texting them your location in case things went awry. There could have been plenty of reasons to listen to the alarms going off in your head and taking your leave now.

But with Sylus…you weren’t nervous. You weren’t discreetly reaching for your phone pretending to check a text. You weren’t even scoping the bar to see if there were other women you could run to for safety. Instead, you wanted to lean further over the table and kiss him, to get a small experience of the freedom he’s been accustomed to his entire life. This was not a man you needed to exercise caution with. Your brain was screaming logic, but your heart, your intuition, was telling you this wouldn’t be a mistake. You purse your lips, weighing your options. 

Perhaps you weren’t as discreet as you thought you were because when you glance at Sylus, he’s gazing at your lips, and it sends a thrill of delight through your system, realizing he’s thinking the same as you. The notion makes you shiver despite the warmth of the evening.

“Are you cold?” Sylus asks and you shake your head no. “Are you sure? You can have my jacket.” 

“I’m sure.” you flash him a smile, wondering if you could get his phone number, but delay the moment to keep the conversation flowing. “Besides, I’d have to give it back to you when I leave. Then I’d be cold all the way back to my hotel.”

Sylus chuckles. “I wouldn’t mind walking you back to your hotel.”

“Because it’s gentlemanly?”

“Because I’m fond of this jacket.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, and without missing a beat, Sylus shrugs out of his jacket and comes around to drape it over your shoulders, and you’re enveloped in his scent before he offers his hand and helps you out of your chair. 

“Lead the way,” he says, and you do so without trepidation. 

The walk back to the hotel wasn’t long, but every step caused an odd tension to coil in your belly. You weren’t reckless like this. You never allowed unknown men to escort you back to your hotel room. Hell, you weren’t even sure what you wanted to do after he’d walked you back to the hotel. Was he expecting something? Could you give in to your desires and give him that something? The something that you were sure you also wanted to happen?

All too soon you’re at the doors to the lobby of the hotel, and you fidget with the collar of his jacket, reluctant to take it off. 

“Oh dear, you’re not planning on stealing it, are you?” Sylus remarks, observing how you were lingering by the door, unwilling to part company. “As charming as you are, we’re not quite at that stage.” 

You shake your head; you’d never brought back a man to your hotel room before. It was a first. How did one signal interest for something more? 

“Um…would you like to…” you gesture aimlessly at the cheery, well-lit lobby. “Come up?” Tongue-tied, you try to gauge his expression, then fumble when you see a look of surprise on his face. 

“I…! All I meant was…I mean, I wanted to…If you don’t…” You gasp as Sylus takes a step forward and presses a finger to your lips, towering powerfully over you, yet his touch was gentle and unthreatening, silencing your incomplete thoughts. 

“Kitten,” he says huskily, and the endearment shoots right into your sex, heat gathering in your belly as the blood rushes to your ears. 

“It’s ok to want someone without a reason. Not everything has to make sense,” he murmurs, his voice low and tempting. “You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

Seeing the look of relief on your face, he subtly drags his finger down, over your bottom lip, waiting for you to make a move, and it was all you could do to not give in and kiss him on the spot. 

“Let’s go up.” You manage to free the words from your throat, exhilaration brewing in your veins of what had just been set into motion. Sylus’s eyes sparkle and he politely holds your hand as you lead him into the lobby and towards the elevator.

You punch in the floor number, trying to remain put together, to hold off until you got to your room, but the pull of the moment hits a crescendo once the doors slide shut. Damning it all, your control snaps and you pull Sylus towards you by the front of his shirt, your lips crashing onto his. Stunned, his eyes widen as he yields to you with a groan. 

Remnants of whiskey lingered on his tongue as you tiptoed, angling your head and pressing your body against his, feeling hard muscles underneath his clothes, pressing him against the side of the elevator as you greedily satiated your primal instinct. The elevator dings, signaling you’d reached your floor and you moan against Sylus’s mouth as he scoops you up and out of the elevator, arms firmly holding you under your thighs as his mouth devours yours. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding firmly onto him as you break the kiss to check your surroundings.

“Left, go left,” you say breathlessly, and he complies, your eyes barely keeping track of the room numbers, giddy from being carried in this intimate way. “Here, this one.” You point to a door then fumble with your clutch to pull out the keycard, tapping it to the lock and Sylus enters, the door clicking shut behind you. 

No time was wasted. Your clothes slipped off easily and you unbuttoned Sylus’s shirt and pulled off his slacks with no hesitation. Both of you fall onto the bed in a heated tangle of limbs, teeth clashing, tongues mixing, and hands everywhere, flesh squeezed, teased and licked until you are a slippery mess of desire. 

You whine in protest when he rolls off you to fumble for his pants and notice him pull out a small square packet. Your hazy brain silently thanks him for having the presence of mind to remember something like this, and when he returns, he’s sheathed and ready. He hisses as he enters your tight wetness, the clench of muscles intoxicating around his hard shaft. Your nails scratch at his back, as though determined to keep him there, whimpering as his thrusts, long and deep, stirred up a torrent of pent-up desires you weren’t even aware had been lying dormant inside you. 

Wrapped up under his warmth and passionate movements, you let yourself feel with abandon, breaths syncing and eyes locking onto each other as you drive each other to the peak, his thumb steadily working on the swollen bundle of nerves between your folds. 

When you finally orgasm, you trigger his own, and his fingers indent bruisingly into your soft flesh as he empties himself into you, mumbling your name like a prayer over and over again. 

Bright sunlight was streaming through your window when you woke, and it was with a pang of disappointment that you saw Sylus was gone, his side of the bed cool when you touched it. Feeling a little foolish that you had hypothetical expectations of a stranger, you roll over and see a note placed on the bedside table next to your charger. You reach out to free and read it, heart fluttering at the message. 

664-249-6879. 

I left my jacket for you in case it gets cold but I’d like it back at some point. Call me when you want to meet. 

Sylus

With a smile rivaling the Cheshire Cat, you look over at the sofa, and sure enough, Sylus’s jacket was draped over the arm. You hum leisurely as you get ready for the day, and once you are dressed, you save Sylus’s number in your phone before calling.  

He answers after a few rings and your pulse quickens at the sound of his voice. 

“Sooner than I expected. But I won’t pretend it’s unwelcome. ”

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“How have your first few days been?”

Sylus leans back in his chair as you peruse the dinner menu, eyes landing on the bibimbap immediately. The all important jacket was now slung over the back of his chair, finally back in the hands of its owner. 

“Busy,” you respond, setting down the menu and focusing on him. “It was back to back meetings and I met with a few of our clients. They have very specific ideas for their marketing and I feel like none of my experience applies here. I’m an alien, navigating a new world.”

“What I hear is…you’re learning,” Sylus supplies, turning his attention to the waiter. “Your best soju, please.” He glances your way and you nod in approval, and the waiter bows his head before stepping away. 

“If you find yourself lacking in inspiration, I always suggest looking at art. It’s the best way to make your own impression about what speaks to your local audience.”

You look at Sylus thoughtfully. “That makes sense. Art is a universal medium, open to interpretation. I could scheme up some ideas.”

The waiter returns with your drinks and you place your food order, Sylus following suit. He sips the soju and fixes his eyes on you, and a liquidy pull of heat begins in your belly before spreading to your extremities, like invisible puppet strings had attached themselves into you. 

“What?” you ask, trying and failing to suppress an awkward giggle under his intense stare. He merely smiles mysteriously and takes another sip of alcohol.

“Nothing. You just make learning look very endearing. It’s a quality lost on most. They fail to see it as anything other than homework. Beneath them.” 

A familiar tingle starts at the base of your neck and crawls down your spine, pleasantly electrifying and causing you to flush with pride. Reminding yourself not to get swept away by basic flattery, you refocus on his suggestion.

“Do you have any suggestions on where to visit?” You sip your own drink and are surprised at the fruity flavor that erupts on your tongue. Sylus looks amused at your expression.

“I always tell newcomers to try the flavored soju first. If you can handle that, then move on to the unflavored version.”

“Testing if I’m a lightweight?” you ask shrewdly before taking another swig. Sylus chuckles at this.

“Truthfully, yes. I’ve seen promising evenings collapse into nonsense because people don’t know how to pace themselves. I don’t want to waste this one, so I’m keeping you fully operational.”

“Oh? Am I not worthy of wasting an evening with the great Mr. Sylus?” you tease, noting how the drink had loosened your tongue. Perhaps he was right in his observations.

He laughs out loud, shaking his head. “Oh, you’re definitely worth wasting an evening on, kitten. But I’d prefer if you remembered the details the next morning.” He leans back in his seat, and you’re at a momentary loss of words, trying to deal with the jolt that shook your being from his last sentence. You’re relieved when he brushes past the silence.

“Circling back to your question about where to visit, I recommend Changdeokgung Palace. The secret garden is beautiful this time of year, and because it underwent restoration through several different historic periods, you can see the fusion, as well as the original elements unique to Korea.”

You pull out your phone and look it up, and are immediately impressed by the sheer size of the palace. “It’s beautiful,” you remark, scrolling through the photos. “Thank you for the recommendation.”

“It’s no problem at all. If you’d like, I can pick you up from the hotel and we can get there a little early to beat the crowd.”

You pause, then look at him quizzically. “Pick me up? Sylus, at any point, did we discuss you coming along with me?”

Unruffled, Sylus recovers smoothly from your question, but you’re sure you saw a flicker of realization in his eyes. “You didn’t. I assumed you wanted the company. I apologize if that wasn’t the case. I can tell you which train to board instead.”

The waiter reappears with your food and Sylus thanks him before tucking in, completely nonchalant, but your insides are squirming, dying to address the elephant in the room. You loved the idea of Sylus accompanying you, but what you couldn’t understand was why he was behaving so naturally, like there was no question of him driving you to Changdeokgung Palace. Was he being friendly? Or had he planned a date on the spot? 

“Food not up to your expectations?” Sylus’s voice cuts through your thoughts as he notices you’ve barely eaten any of it. You bite your lip uncertainly, and just like that, all of his attention was on you. 

“If you’re wondering why I assumed I’d join you… you can just ask.” Heat rushes to your cheeks but there is no point in hiding it now.

“Yeah. That. I’m not mad or anything; but why?”

“Why not?” he quips back. “I’m not doing anything this weekend.”

“That’s beside the point.” Your hands fidget with the napkin you’d laid out on your lap before gathering courage to voice your growing concerns. 

“Sylus…that night was wonderful.”

“Wonderful?” He quirks an eyebrow, accompanied by a devastating smirk of satisfaction, and immediately, all the tension you thought you’d put behind you was back, butterfly wings beating wildly in your gut. “You never actually said anything ‘till now.”

You take a deep breath, collecting your thoughts before continuing. “However, I’m not sure I understand what your intentions are.”

“My intentions?” Sylus lays down his cutlery and gives you an appraising look. “Is it wrong to accompany an attractive woman to a well-known architecture site?”

“No. What I mean is…” You take a moment to sort the words in your head into cogent sentences, and swallow some more soju for help. Feeling a little less on edge, you try to sound logical. “We don’t know each other. I like you as a person, and the other night was…memorable.”

“Memorable and wonderful. You certainly have a lot of compliments for me.” Sylus grins boyishly and it wrecks your heart, the little strings thrumming like a guitar being played. You hedge on, ignoring the pounding that was now echoing in your ears.

“But what I don’t understand is why you’re doing it. Is it because I’m a foreigner in Seoul and you somehow feel responsible for me? Are you attracted to me and are planning dates? Or are you just the friendly, local expat trying to widen his network?”

You hold your breath and wait for an answer, clenching and unclenching your fingers around the napkin as you wait.

Sylus looks taken aback, and crosses his arms. “What if it’s all the above? But especially that I find you attractive and that I was planning a date?”

He says it simply, like it was the most obvious answer.

“Ok that’s a problem.” You drum the table as you mentally wade through his admission. 

“Why, exactly?” Sylus stretches out his long legs under the table. “Is there some sort of line I’m crossing?”

“No, but…” you sigh, trying to explain. “I’m only in Seoul for a month. I wasn’t looking for a date or handsome strangers to visit historic places with me. I…I don’t like starting things that end in disappointment.”

“Oh, so you’ve already decided this will be disappointing.”

“No!” You embarrassingly squeak the word but when you look at Sylus, he’s amused rather than put off. “I just meant…I didn’t come here for romance. Things will inevitably end when I leave.”

Sylus hums thoughtfully, and empties his glass of soju before straightening and leaning forward in his seat. “Kitten. Stop rationalizing everything. I swear I can see the cogs turning underneath that pretty head of hair.” 

You blink, unsure how to respond. Sylus’s voice remains calm and even, lacking any trace of irritation. “Look, far be it from me to tell you how to spend your time in Seoul. However, I’m not saying something has to come from this. Consider it an adventure. Is it really so awful to spend time with someone who’s openly admitted he finds you attractive?”

“Yes it is.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What if you end up having feelings for me or I get them for you?”

Sylus pauses at the vulnerability in your voice. “Ah. I see. You’re worried about this turning into more.”

“Yeah.” You wrap your arms around yourself, fingers digging into your elbows. “I don’t want to carry that guilt if you end up having feelings for me. And I don’t want to be in doubt over the what-ifs.”

Sylus nods, acknowledging your feelings. “May I suggest something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Instead of worrying about where this could go, how about we focus on the now? One month, we’ll make the best of your time here. And when you leave, we’ll be nothing more than acquaintances. To paraphrase, what happens in Seoul stays in Seoul.” 

You mull over his words in your head and feel the tightness in your chest loosen. He had made it sound so easy. And truth be told, it was a positive way to look at it. You were on an adventure after all. Why not make the most of it? There were certainly worse ways to spend it than with a handsome, experienced expat. 

“And you’re ok with that?” you ask, needing reassurance. He huffs, clearly finding this adorable, and nods. 

“Yes. It doesn’t need to be more than you need it to be.” 

Feeling like a bag of rocks had been thrown off your shoulders, you give Sylus a bracing smile, but are unprepared when he reaches out pat your cheek, like calming an overwhelmed child.

“How does Saturday sound? 8 A.M?.”  

=^..^=   =^..^=   =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=

Changdeokgung Palace was every bit as beautiful as the photos had described it. Traveling in Sylus’s car was definitely more comfortable than taking the train and you were fortunate enough to see the outer grounds under the peace of the early morning. Birds had perched and chirped as you made your way around  the richly detailed structure tracing the weathered wood and stone as you waited for it to open to the public. The interior was spacious and airy, and the secret garden was worth every syllable of praise it received, with its impressive plants and neatly maintained shrubs. 

The unexpected surprise, though, had happened at the beginning of the trip. Now seated in a teashop as Sylus filled a teacup, you gesture at the richly embroidered hanbok you were wearing.

“When were you going to tell me you had arranged to borrow this?” you ask as he pushed the teacup towards you. 

Dressed in a ruby and gold shaded men’s hanbok and looking as attractive as ever, Sylus puts the teapot back onto its delicate coaster and folds his hands on the table. 

“Wearing a hanbok while visiting a palace is the most authentic way to experience Korea. It doesn’t feel the same when you’re wearing jeans.” He pops a dumpling into his mouth and you sniff the freshly brewed, fragrant tea appreciatively before sipping. 

“But if you had told me, I would have looked into renting one. This feels expensive.” You carefully put the teacup down, wary of getting anything on the hanbok. 

“It was no big deal. I happened to know a designer who owed me a favor. She’s testing a new material and needed a guinea pig, so don’t fret.” 

You weren’t the least bit offended for being a guinea pig at this time. The cloth was soft and flowy, with vivid flower embroidery and hummingbirds flitting about the sleeves. It had come with a matching hairstick, and you’d made a quick bun with it, matching the rest of the crowd that had been visiting the palace. 

“Well tell her it’s beautiful. I feel like royalty.” You place your hand under your chin and strike a regal pose, and Sylus chuckles. 

“How do you intend to spend the rest of your day, your highness?” he asks indulgently and your eyes shine with enthusiasm. 

“I need to go through the hundreds of photos I’ve taken today, and start working on my presentation for Monday. My inspiration is raring to go after everything I saw today.” You glance at the traditional, circular window near your table, and see Changdeokgung Palace in the distance, streams of tourists entering and exiting from its main doors. “Thank you Sylus, for suggesting this place, and for driving me. And for the hanbok.”

Suddenly, you’re shy, feeling like a little girl who had experienced princess treatment for the first time. Everything felt so fresh and new with Sylus, walking the untrodden path so to speak. It was his attention to detail that impressed you. He could have easily chosen to not bother with the hanbok or the teashop, but you’re grateful that he had. It almost felt like a private tour, tailored just to your liking. 

Sylus’s features soften at your thanks, the sharpness melting away into a look of fondness. “You’re very welcome, and as I said, people visiting Seoul often don’t know how to experience it. I’m merely ensuring your time here is well spent.” 

When your eyes dart to his hands on the table, he shakes his head, chuckling. “You’d make a terrible poker player,” he remarks, offering his hand, and you flush instantly. 

“I wasn’t-!” you stutter self-consciously, and his chuckle morphs into a snicker as your insides turn into jello. 

“You were staring. I figured I’d make it easier for you. Although, I don’t understand why you’re being shy now after you spent all morning hanging off my sleeve.” 

“What?” You stare at him perplexedly. “No I didn’t!”

“Sure you did. You didn’t think twice when holding my hand or grabbing onto my sleeve when we were walking around the palace.” 

“I did that so we wouldn’t get separated!” You become engrossed with your teacup, observing the brown liquid inside and wondering if you could drown yourself in it. Heat crept up your neck under his keen gaze, heart beating in your chest like a drum, so loudly, you wonder if he could hear it. Even though more intimate things had happened, bare flesh and sweaty bodies somehow seemed less vulnerable than holding hands in public. 

“Even when we were outside, in the early morning, when no one was around?” Sylus asks slyly, clearly enjoying the way you were squirming under his scrutiny. 

“Yes!” it comes out defensively, and, finally regaining control of his mirth, Sylus nods his head patronizingly. 

“Of course. Kittens get lost quite easily, especially in large open spaces. You were following your natural instincts.” 

That did it. The icing on the cake. Your cheeks were so rosy you felt like you’d burst into flame, and feeling a small stab of pity, Sylus relents, taking your hand in his and resting it on the tabletop. You sneak a peek and notice Sylus is looking out the window, realizing he’s giving you a moment to gather yourself. Taking a deep breath, you relax, curling your fingers around his, feeling the warmth of his palm against your skin. 

The charged atmosphere between you two calms down, and when you finally make eye contact, it’s without that embarrassing feeling of being x-rayed down to your bones. 

“For the future, you don’t have to ask,” Sylus says softly, and you feel ridiculous at having made such a fuss over something so trivial. But then again, if you had done this with someone else, there would have been a discussion about why you’d been holding their hand. Sylus didn’t take things beyond their present meaning. If it made you comfortable, you could hold his hand, and he would accept that without any further questions. 

“Right,” you murmur, feeling abashed at your behavior. “I’m sorry.” It falls from your lips like a reflex, and Sylus squeezes your hand consolingly. 

“There’s no need. Next time, just take it. I promise I won’t bite.” He raises his hand to catch the attention of the waiter for the check.  As he pays, you recognize that familiar feeling of need building inside your stomach, the delicate little throb that seemed to start behind your bellybutton and ease its way downwards into your sex. Was this because of the handholding, or from the overall romance of today? 

As Sylus prepares to stand, you take a bold step. 

“Sylus?”

His garnet eyes focus on your face. “Hmm?”

“Would you…like to come up? When we reach my hotel?”

There it was again; that look of brief surprise followed by delight, like you had done something unexpected. 

“I’d love to, kitten.” 

The drive back was filled with a different kind of tension than the one at the table. Sylus navigated the roads with ease, one hand resting on your knee, almost like a protective gesture. Even more so was that you didn’t mind it there. You weren’t on the lookout for it to start creeping higher up your thigh, or wondering when you should push it off. No, it remained there, hardly moving, save for the occasional drumming of his fingers on your kneecap, which made you drowsy, courtesy of the early morning you’d had.

“Are you tired?” Sylus asks. “Would you like a rain check on me coming up?”

That rouses you and you shake your head no. You knew you didn’t want to postpone this, not when you had been thinking about it in the background all week. Not when you had finally started to become less inhibited with your wants. 

“We’re not too far away.” He gives your knee a gentle squeeze, and your eyes open fully, currents of heat flowing through your body at the contact. The remainder of the journey whets your appetite even more and by the time you reach your hotel, your nerves are jangling with anticipation as you remembered the last time. 

But Sylus calmly holds you against his side this time, his arm languidly draped around your shoulders as the elevator ascended. When you get to your room, you turn in his arms, but instead of the raw desire you’d expected, Sylus kisses you patiently, his fingers combing through your hair as he seats you onto the bed. He removes your earrings, massaging the lobes and sending pleasant shivers through you before he lightly nips at the tender flesh. 

Next came the hanbok, as he unfastened the ties and buttons one by one, the act so tender that almost felt too much. His lips caress the back of your neck as he helps you out of it, draping the garment with care over the sofa. His final act was the hairstick, carefully unwinding it out of your hair and letting your locks slide free. His eyes seemed to glow as he feasted on your skin before unhurriedly undressing himself.

By the time he slips in to (slips into you or slips in you or slips it you) you're swollen and wet, unable to think about anything else, your sighs mingling with the balmy air as your bodies entwine and flood your system with pleasure.

=^..^=   =^..^=   =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=

You’re amazed at the changes you saw in yourself over the duration of your stay. The visit to Changdeokgung Palace had pushed your abilities into ultrasonic mode, and you were putting out ideas that pleased the Korean investors immensely. Additionally, you were now more outspoken, standing firm on suggestions you knew would be beneficial than doubting yourself. Your boss had praised you for all the initiative you’d taken during your stay, reviewing the additions to the portfolios and greenlighting all the proposals you had brought forth. 

Perhaps Seoul was the kind of break you had needed in order to reinvent yourself. You weren’t really different, but you knew you weren’t the same. In the blink of an eye, you had already spent 3 weeks here, and were captivated by the city’s charms. 

You worked during the mornings and the evenings were spent with Sylus. It was unbelievable how a stranger had become the thing you looked forward to the most at the end of the day. He’d taken you to all the best restaurants, booked tickets at a moment’s notice (thanks to all the contacts he’d racked up over the years), and patiently snapped photos for you at all the tourist attractions. 

You finally had the privilege of visiting his residence (a rented penthouse not too far away from the hotel), and had spent a lovely time playing with his record collection, helping him cook, and entertaining each other with stories about your lives and hopes for the future. Sylus had said he’s not sure where he wanted to go next, but he was positive he wasn’t staying in Seoul forever. He was too accustomed to a nomadic lifestyle to put down roots anywhere, and though it made you melancholic whenever he said that, you always reminded yourself that he hadn’t lied about who he was. 

Wasn’t that the reason you’d set that boundary at the restaurant? Whatever happened in Seoul, stayed in Seoul. But you find yourself thinking about him during the day, sending him photos of stray cats and what you had for breakfast that day. And Sylus would reply to each of them, not immediately, but when he found the time to do so. You wondered how it would be when you returned back home. Perhaps you’d send a text in the morning and Sylus would reply whenever, because you know the man didn’t have a set sleep schedule; he worked when he felt like it, slept when he felt like it, and all the time in between was his. 

And who knew? Perhaps he might meet someone after you left and then…Your stomach would knot uncomfortably when these sorts of thoughts came into your head and you firmly booted them out when they did. You had no right to be upset over things like that, especially when you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle anything more than what you already had.

So you allowed yourself to soak up all the moments you could with him, not missing any opportunity to spend time with him, even if it was for mundane tasks like grocery shopping, or tagging along with him when he met clients for work. You tried to convince yourself it was a networking excuse, but you could see Sylus didn’t quite buy it when you told him the same thing. 

Now with less than 10 days left, you found yourself dreading the inevitable; that you would leave, and Sylus would become a memory, a happy remembrance of your past. 

“Kitten.” Sylus flicks your forehead and you come out of your reverie, glaring at him as you rub your forehead.

“What?” you ask annoyedly. “I was listening, there was no need for that.”

“Were you though? You were distracted all throughout dinner.” 

You ignore his observation, even though it was true. You had definitely been unfocused tonight, head muddled with reports, and the coiling reality that you would have to say bye to Sylus soon. 

“You’re imagining things.” You wrap your fingers around his arm as you wait for the crosswalk to change lights. You hadn’t been to this part of town yet, and bright neon signs flashed everywhere as you followed Sylus to the dessert shop he’d been talking about for the past few days. You tried to keep track of them, reading them as you passed. 

Cafes, bookstores, clothing boutiques, a sex shop…wait what?

You halt in your tracks, and the tug on Sylus’s arm stops him as well. Following your gaze, he sees the blinking sign that boasted a pair of handcuffs and a lacy bra. He grins. 

“Do you want to go in?” he asks your nervous self. 

“I’ve never…seen one before,” you admit, laughing self-consciously. 

Sylus leans towards your ear, purring persuasively. “Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back. Come on kitten. You’re on an adventure. Are you sure you don’t want to look?” 

You moisten your lips, heart pounding at the idea. “Won’t we be late for dessert?”

“The shop stays open pretty late. Besides, I think we’re about to discover something sweeter, don’t you think?” He steps towards the shop, and you have no choice but to follow him.

You weren’t unaware of toys and other paraphernalia relating to these practices, but you had never thought about buying something for yourself. Rows and displays of unique items were categorized throughout the shop and you found yourself browsing, and subconsciously imagining what these toys may feel like. 

“Anything pique your interest?” Sylus asks, and you let go of him to wander over to a row of handcuffs, ranging from cute ones with fluff to professional black leather sets. 

“Oh, have you been dreaming of being tied up and at another’s mercy?” Sylus’s deep voice flows into your ears like silk on skin. 

Mouth dry and your tongue clumsy, you force yourself to look at him and admit the dirty little fantasy you’d harbored for years but hadn’t dared say out loud to anyone. 

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to try handcuffs. And…” you falter, a thrill running through you at the idea of spilling the beans. 

“And?” Sylus prompts, waiting. “There’s no shame in having a kink or two, kitten.”

You swallow. “I wondered how clamps would feel.” Your face burns after saying it out loud, but Sylus’s eyes glitter with interest. 

“I see. Then…do you trust me to pick something for you?” he asks and you nod, firecrackers exploding in your stomach as he turns away to peruse the shelves. After paying for the items, you walk out, feeling like you were doing something indecent by carrying all this around in a plastic bag. The dessert shop was a few blocks away and Sylus quickly orders a few things to go. 

The train ride back felt like forever, your pulse leaping erratically each time Sylus’s body brushed against yours, the impulse to kiss him senseless right here mounting with every passing second.

When you reach the hotel, Sylus puts away the desserts in the minifridge, and takes out the toys from the bag, along with an antibacterial cleaner he’d purchased as well. He breaks the packaging and cleans them up in the bathroom as you wait, a throbbing ache forming between your legs. 

He returns, placing the toys on the bedside table and pulls you into his arms, soothingly stroking your back. A mixture of excitement, anticipation, and pure, unadulterated lust comes alive under your skin, filling the space in between your bodies as Sylus tips your head back for a kiss, his tongue coaxing your lips open and possessively laying claim. 

You yield, body turning soft and pliant against his even as darker desires blossomed in the pit of your stomach. His hand brushes back your hair, and when he breaks the kiss, he’s a little unsteady as he cups your face.

“Kitten, you need to tell me if it’s too much, or hurts in a bad way. Remember the word red, ok?” He strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’ll stop immediately.”

“Red.” You nod and Sylus pushes you onto your back, his powerful body covering yours. His hands slip off your blouse, eyes darkening at the edges as he reaches behind you to snap the catch of your bra. The garment slithers off you and he carelessly lets them fall to the floor. 

The ache between your legs was now almost uncomfortable, nipples hard and perked under his observant gaze, eagerly awaiting to see what he had in store. He palms your breasts, kneading the soft mounds, enjoying the flush that creeps into your skin as you bite your lip to suppress the moan of longing that wells up from your throat. 

He tweaks and tugs, his mouth trailing down the column of your neck and leaving wet kisses in his wake, pleased when you tremble and anchor your hands against his back in need, nails digging into his skin. He nips your collarbone, the frantic tattoo of your heart audible inside your chest as he licks the valley between your breasts, his fingers unrelenting in their sweet torture of your sensitive buds. 

One large hand closes on both of yours and holds them above your head, and he sees the submission clouding your eyes, the transition clear as crystal, basic instincts winning over rationality. The defenseless and trusting way you lay beneath him was intoxicating, filling him with the desire to wreck you until the only name you remembered was his. 

Reaching towards the nightstand, he takes the handcuffs, soft and padded on the inner rims, and secures your wrists, the quiet click echoing in your ears. Truly helpless now, you couldn’t do anything except lay there in suspense as he strokes down your body, tracing lines all over your limbs and your belly which quivers under his tickling. 

Your muscles are tense under his tender ministrations, and you can’t stop the little whimpers that keep escaping your throat, his little songbird, content to play whatever tune he wants. When he finally closes his mouth over your nipple, you arch. The handcuffs clink above you as he feeds the growing ecstasy taking over your body. 

“Sylus…” you whine his name as his teeth scrape the edge of your bud, just enough to send a zing of pain through your breast. He glances up at you as he suckles, his eyes glowing with primal desire, and your breath catches in your throat. You’d never been looked at like that before, not with such ravenous eyes that looked like they were savoring every inch of skin you could offer, laid out like a buffet for his gratification. 

He finally releases you and your breasts are heavy and swollen, pulsing with raw want. He runs the pads of his fingers over them and you suck in a breath at the sensitivity.

“Perfect,” Sylus rasps before taking the object of your fantasies off the nightstand.

You feel your core clench hotly at the sight of the clamps. Sylus deftly loosens the screws on one, and runs the rubber tipped arm across your nipples, a teasing sample of what was to come. 

“What do you say if it hurts?”

His question catches you off guard, and you blink, trying to remember through the haze in your brain. 

“Red.” You manage to whisper and he growls, low and feral in his throat.

“Good. This will pinch. But it shouldn’t be unbearable.” 

You train your eyes to the ceiling, too shy to watch what is happening, then gasp as you feel the clamp close over your nipple, blood rushing into the pinched flesh as Sylus repeats the motion on its twin. 

Your clit reacts immediately, pulsing hotly under what felt like too many layers of clothes. Your hands uselessly grab the headboard as you try to ground yourself from the persistent pressure of the clamps. 

“Oh kitten, if you could see yourself right now.” Sylus kisses your bellybutton, dipping his tongue into the crevice and chuckling when your hips buck in reaction, moaning when the motion causes the clamps to shake, tugging on your nipples delightfully. “All laid out bare and sweet for me to sample and taste. And knowing you did this willingly…that’s the cherry on top.”

His hands move to your jeans, unzipping them and dragging them down your legs with care. Your panties are stained, a wet patch of moisture visible on the gusset. You blush and look away as Sylus presses his nose into it, inhaling deeply.

“You smell delicious.” His voice is a sinful purr as he rubs circles into your hipbones, pushing your legs apart with his shoulders. A soft noise leaves your lips as he removes the final piece of clothing and you’re left bare and exposed. 

Sylus parts your sex with his fingers, licking a long stripe along your slit, and a strangled cry spills from your mouth, arms pulling the handcuffs taut, your chest rapidly rising and falling from the burst of euphoria. The clamps sway as you pant, trying and failing to keep still, each movement only pushing you closer to the edge. His tongue finally laves your clit, the swollen little nub throbbing and radiating heat as he takes his time teasing and building up a promising expectation. 

Your voice keens and you involuntarily thrash, knees clamping around his head, only for him to hold them apart, fingers indenting into the plush flesh of your thighs to hold you in place. Your eyes squeeze closed as you desperately try to focus on the coil that was winding tighter and tighter in your stomach. 

Daring to look down, your heart skips a beat as you see Sylus looking straight back at you and it was unbearably intimate. With a snap of heat, you climax, body arching off the bed as dizzying prismatic colors pop behind your eyes. Sweat mists on your body as Sylus guides you through the confusing blur of feelings that knotted together under his precise touch. 

When you finally float back to earth, Sylus is removing the clamps and massaging your breasts to restore the circulation. You wince as he removes them from the delicate flesh, soothing them with his hands.

“Are you ok?” he asks and you nod your head, then expectantly wait for him to unlock the handcuffs. Seeing your look, Sylus smirks and shakes his head.

“I think we’ll leave those on a little longer.” He undresses and covers your body with his, his erection grazing your thigh as he kisses you deeply, until you feel like you could drown. He breaks the kiss to dip into the nightstand and rip off another condom.

“I love it when you can’t run away from me.” He moves in between your legs, positioning you to hook your ankles over his shoulders as he notches into your moist entrance. “You finally learned how to relinquish control…good girl.”

He pushes and you split apart around him, the stretch making you see stars, the position driving him deeper than you’d ever felt him. The breath tears from your throat as your mind fragments, each thrust only pushing you into the abyss. Your fingers clench and unclench, nails digging into your palm as Sylus fills the empty space, the wet schlick of his movements filling the room as he paces himself. Your walls clench around him, sucking him in deeper until you feel him angling himself to brush against your gspot, little spots of light filling your vision with each delicious stroke. 

“Kitten.” 

You whimper as he folds your knees and brings them to your chest, bundling you as he continues those long, torturous strokes. He groans at the sight of you, flushed, hair fanning out on the pillow as you yield to him, lost in the shared experience of lust. 

“You take me so well…Such a…good kitten…” he grits his teeth as tingles start at the base of his spine, creeping upwards as he chases his high. “You look so pretty like this…” He huffs and leans forward to kiss you again as his movements grow sloppy, hips stuttering as he buries himself into your warmth, spasming as he reaches climax. 

He stills, and after a few minutes of heated silence, he undoes the handcuffs, panting from the exertion. You don’t remember how you got the energy to get out of bed, but you’d clung to him as you showered, before he laid you onto cool sheets and pulled you to his side, soothing you to sleep.

When he was sure you’d drifted off, Sylus kissed your temple, watching you as you slept. Knowing you couldn’t hear him, he whispers, “I’ll miss you kitten. I wish it wasn’t like this.”

=^..^=   =^..^=   =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=

Your last few days in Seoul were thankfully calm. With the Korean investors satisfied, there was little for you to do except bask in the pleasures that you wouldn’t be able to access so easily back home. 

Sylus had accompanied you to a hair spa one day, where both of you had lain down on massage tables while experienced aestheticians had taken notes about your hair and scalp, then washed and massaged you, melting away your troubles. And though Sylus’s control was great, even he was no match for the aesthetician’s skilled hands, letting out little groans of joy as she massaged his scalp; you had giggled quietly at the noise, tucking it away in the little box of your heart, a priceless, precious keepsake that only you possessed. 

Another day, Sylus had taken you up the winding slopes of Bukhansan on his motorcycle with you clinging to his waist as he confidently navigated the inclined paths, breathless at the scenery, snuggling into his side as you watched the sunrise after you’d made it to the top. You kissed him as often as you could, unapologetically. 

And in those rare moments when you weren’t in his company, when you were packing your suitcase, tracking down items that had scattered all over the hotel room that had become your home, when he had fallen asleep next to you when you were still awake, you allowed yourself to admit the hard truth.

You were in love.

It was the most inopportune set of circumstances. Sylus had told you countless times he never wanted to settle in one place, build up roots, and remain content with domestic life. And it was the exact opposite for you. Despite being your freest self right now, there was still a part of you that yearned for home comforts; the knowledge of knowing which step creaked on the staircase, or which kitchen drawer stuck when it was being opened, or the secret stash where you kept extra bandaids and candy. 

It was that fundamental difference that sometimes brought you to tears. Sylus was perfect in every way, except on the one principle that mattered most – that you wanted a home. And why should he change for you, anyway? He had been doing this most of his life, and you almost felt like an impolite intruder for wanting to ask him if he would change his mind. After all, he hadn’t asked you to stay in Seoul, nor had he suggested you change your way of thinking. If he understood you enough to not demand this of you, then what grounds did you have to ask that of him?  

So you’d swallowed your questions and allowed yourself to indulge, and to be spoiled by him. You’d taken so many random photos of him that your camera reel was now full of his face. 

“I promise I won’t look different within a few hours kitten” he’d teased you when he saw them, and you’d snatched your phone back, muttering something about invading people’s privacy. 

On your last night, Sylus had taken you to dinner at Bicena, a Michelin-star restaurant which had a months-long waiting list. His only response to your question about how he’d gotten the reservation was a cryptic, “I know a guy.”

High above Seoul you’d watched the sun set, the little twinkling lights so far below crowning the fair city like jewels. He’d taken you in his lap as you sipped champagne, looking out of the ceiling-to-floor window, and you were painfully reminded of how this was the same thing you’d been drinking when you first met him. Life seemed to love bringing things to end in a full circle.  

You sigh and curl up against him, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat, his hands adjusting on your waist to hold you more securely in place. 

“Are you looking forward to going home?” he asks, his breath ruffling your hair. 

You nearly said no. You almost let everything you’d been mulling over in your mind spill out of your mouth. You almost said you love him. 

But instead, you swallow, and nod. “I will miss Seoul. But home is where the heart is.”

He kisses your hair, and you squeeze your eyes shut, chest tightening at the knowledge that tomorrow, you’d be on a flight back home, and you’d never wake up to Sylus’s face again. 

“Is it only Seoul you’ll miss?” he asks, and a heavy silence falls between both of you. You blink, thankful your face is hidden in his neck, before responding.

“I’ll miss you too.” It was all you could manage to say. Your throat was already closing in on itself, a lump forming in it. Your voice wavers, and you sniffle. 

“Sylus…Seoul was the most amazing thing that’s happened to me. And I’m glad I met you. You…you…” your words are choked in your chest, and Sylus shushes you, his index creeping up the side of your face to press against your lips.

“Don’t say it if it hurts, kitten. I know.”

“You know?” you turn away from the window, inhaling the smell of his skin, trying to soak up the heat of his body. 

“I do.” He cradles the back of your head tenderly.

“Red,” you whisper against his neck. 

Overwhelming, too much. 

“It’s red?” he affirms, and you nod; he hums, embracing you tighter.

Red like his eyes, red like all the sunrises and sunsets you’ve witnessed, red like the blood running through your quietly breaking heart.

“I can’t stop what you’re feeling, kitten.” He squeezes you against his chest and you take a fortifying gulp of air. “Trust me, if I could, I would.” 

Your tears blur the blinding lights of the city that had given you so much. Sylus waits until you stop crying, discreetly offering you a napkin and you dry your tears as best as you can. 

Your hotel room was pristine now; all your belongings were packed, the suitcases neatly lined up near the door. 

And you made love for the last time. You touched every line on his palms, kissed the little crows feet at the corners of his eyes, memorizing every last feature of his body as he kissed away your tears, refusing to stop even when your muscles ached, to have him imprinted on you in any lasting way possible. 

Sylus wakes you up the next morning with a kiss, and although you were still heavy with melancholy, your mind was clear. You’d gotten ready, and said goodbye to the room. 

“This is for you by the way,” Sylus says after your baggage had been put away in his car. He hands you a large gift bag. “Something to remember me by.”

“You didn’t have to,” you say as you accept the bag, feeling touched. But then again, it was a very Sylus thing to do. 

He caresses your face, then kisses you softly on the lips.”Don’t be a stranger after going home.”

You manage to laugh. “I promise.”

The ride to the airport was filled with reminiscence, and talks about the future. Sylus briefly mentioned something about a stint he’d found that put him a little closer to your time zone and you’d encouraged him to pursue it. 

He’d helped you with your suitcases, and given you a final hug. He cups your face tenderly, resting his forehead against yours, and you savored these last few moments. 

“Thank you Sylus. For everything.”

I love you.

“No, thank you, kitten. Seoul was the closest thing I’ve experienced to having a home, because of you.”

Your heart clenches as he lets go, pushing back a stray strand of your hair. 

“Don’t make yourself late, kitten. I promise not to ghost you once you walk through those doors.” 

You nod, gather your belongings and walk to the revolving doors. You glance back over your shoulder, and within a blink, he’s gone as you enter the airport. 

Security went smoothly and after getting to the gate, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you finally open the gift bag to find a large box tied with a satin ribbon. You carefully lift the lid, then bring a hand to your mouth as you see the hanbok you’d worn at Changdeokgung Palace. The little card inside was written in Sylus’s loopy, slanted script. 

Hummingbirds may migrate, but that doesn’t mean the flowers lose their sweetness. They remember each bloom’s unique nectar even as the seasons change. Likewise, the bouquet of memories we have will never lose their taste. Distance can’t make them wither, and I will never forget. 

“Oh Sylus…” you whisper, tears falling onto the note. You press your fingers to your eyes to stem them, but it’s impossible, and you allow yourself to succumb as your heart breaks open and pours out your laments. 

=^..^=   =^..^=   =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=    =^..^=

You arrive home, and it’s like you’ve never left. Your best friend had been house sitting, so the place is clean, and she had been thoughtful enough to leave takeout for you on the kitchen counter. 

Exhausted, you eat, shower, and sleep. Your bed was familiar and warm, but you can’t stop remembering how it felt to fall asleep on Sylus’s chest, wrapped up in his scent. 

You’re not sure how long you slept, but you’re woken by your loud ringtone. Groggily, you reach for it and connect the call without opening your eyes.

“Hello?”

“Kitten?”

You jolt awake, rubbing your gritty eyes. 

“Hi.” You’re not sure why you sound breathless.

“How was the flight? Are you home?”

“Yeah. It was great. Everything was great. I’m home now.”

It doesn’t feel like home without you.

“Remember that potential contract I was planning on taking?”

“Yes! So, how much closer to my time zone are you now?”

“Hm…a 0 hour difference.”

“Huh?” Stumped, you rack your brain for far too long wondering which time zone that was until it hits you. 

“You…you’re transferring to my hometown?”

“Took you long enough,” he teases and you tsk impatiently.

“But why?”

There’s a pause before Sylus continues. 

“Kitten…I can make a home anywhere. But now…it appears I have a condition.”

“A condition?” your heart hammers in your throat as you wait for him to finish.

“Yes. I need you to be there.” He says it openly. “Unless…you’d rather I don’t?”

Stunned, you laugh incredulously, shaking your head. 

“Yes!” Enthusiasm floods your voice, your happiness unbridled and tumbling from your mouth like a waterfall. “Are you serious?”

“Very much so. I take it…you’re pleased about this?”

“Pleased? Oh my god Sylus!” Tears of joy slide down your cheeks and finally, finally, you say the words you had been hiding.

“I love you!”

Now it’s his turn to be stunned into silence, but you hear the little note of delight in his otherwise calm voice. “What a coincidence. Now I don’t have to feel foolish for saying the same thing.” He sighs, the noise sounding content.

“I love you too.”

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating