It was a soft sensation. The kind of kiss that barely pressed with urgency. Just warm lips brushing against his.
Ryul stiffened.
For a moment, he didn't move or breathe.
Not because he didn't know what was happening – but because his mind refused to catch up. It all felt surreal. Like a strange hallucination brought on by too many hours without rest. But the warmth was obviously there.
Jihoon's lips, clumsy and soft, pressed into his with a kind of naive persistence. Ryul could feel the subtle tremble in his breath, the flutter of lashes brushing against his cheek.
Overall, the kiss was nothing skilled. More like a baby bird pecking tentatively, clearly showing inexperienced. Yet Jihoon was strangely intent.
He licked at the older man's lips between small, greedy sucks, as though trying to memorize something ephemeral. He did so with the shy boldness of someone too drunk to be afraid.
And Ryul?
He simply stayed still. Silent.
