Time stretched in that moment, every heartbeat a thunderous echo in her ears, as his other hand found the hem of her blouse, lifting it just enough to slip beneath, his palm meeting the bare skin of her waist with a touch that was both possessive and reverent. The contrast of his callused fingers against her soft flesh drew a deeper sigh from her, her hips tilting toward him instinctively, craving more of that exquisite pressure, the building tension coiling tight within her. Do-yoon's breathing grew harsher, his control fraying further as he whispered her name again, the sound rough and laden with desire, his body pressing closer, the hard length of him aligning with the apex of her thighs in a way that made her world narrow to just this—the overwhelming, intoxicating rush of sensation threatening to consume them both.
and in that all-consuming haze, Do-yoon's restraint shattered completely, his body moving with a newfound urgency as he guided her gently but firmly toward the edge of the bed, their lips crashing together in a kiss that was no longer tentative but deep and devouring. His hands slid up her sides, bunching the fabric of her blouse as he cupped the swell of her breasts through the thin material, his thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks with a pressure that drew a sharp, involuntary gasp from her lips. Yeon-hwa's skin prickled with heat, the aphrodisiac's influence making every touch feel amplified, a slick warmth building between her thighs as she arched into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer with a need that bordered on desperation.
He eased her back onto the soft duvet, his weight settling over her in a way that pinned her deliciously in place, and as his hips began to rock against hers, the first tentative thrust sent waves of pleasure rippling through her core. She moaned softly at first, the sound low and throaty, vibrating against his mouth as he trailed kisses down her neck, his breath hot and uneven. Do-yoon's hands grew bolder, slipping under her blouse to free her breasts from the confines of her bra, his fingers kneading the soft flesh with a mix of reverence and raw hunger that made her tremble. He paused then, his lips hovering just above one hardened nipple, the cool air contrasting with the feverish heat of her skin, before he captured it in his mouth, sucking gently at first, then with increasing intensity, each pull eliciting a louder moan from her as the sensation shot straight to the ache between her legs, leaving her impossibly wet and yearning.
The rhythm of his movements built slowly, his body pressing harder against hers in powerful, deliberate thrusts that made the bed creak beneath them, her skirt riding up to expose the damp fabric of her underwear. Yeon-hwa's hands clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging in just enough to mark him, her hips rising to meet each pounding surge as the aphrodisiac heightened every exquisite detail—the musky scent of their shared arousal, the slick slide of skin on skin, the way his muscles tensed and flexed under her touch. Do-yoon whispered words of encouragement, his voice a gravelly murmur against her ear, but as the intensity grew, he shifted suddenly, rolling them both so that she straddled him, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side, the new position allowing her to feel the full, throbbing hardness of him pressing up against her, reigniting the fire between them with a fresh surge of desire.
Yeon-hwa's breath hitched, her body sinking deeper into the cradle of his hips as the full, throbbing hardness of him pressed up against her core, reigniting the fire between them with a fresh surge of desire that made her world tilt on its axis. She rocked forward instinctively, the damp fabric of her underwear rubbing against the rigid length of him, sending jolts of pleasure through her that left her gasping, her hands bracing on his chest for balance. Do-yoon's eyes locked onto hers, dark and hooded with unbridled want, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as he guided her movements, his voice breaking the heavy silence with a low, gravelly whisper that sent shivers racing across her skin. "Ah, not too deep yet," he murmured, his words laced with a mix of restraint and raw hunger, as if he were savoring the way her body trembled above him, the heat of her enveloping him in waves that made his own control fray at the edges.
But his restraint didn't last;With a sudden, powerful surge, he flipped them again, his hands gripping her waist as he lifted her effortlessly. Their bodies stayed locked together, heat pressed to heat, and a startled gasp tore from her throat.
"Do-yoon—!" she breathed out, fingers clutching at his shoulders.
"Hold onto me," he murmured, voice rough and shaking with restraint.
He carried her across the room, pinning her gently but firmly against the cool wall. The shock of cold against her back tore a soft cry from her lips.
"Oh—!" she gasped, legs tightening instinctively around his waist.
His mouth found hers again, desperate and consuming.
"I can't—" he groaned against her lips, "I can't slow down anymore."
She trembled in his arms, breath staggered.
"Don't," she whispered, voice breaking, "I need you—"
That single confession snapped what remained of his control.
His hips drove upward, a deep, claiming thrust that made her cry out, her back arching hard against the wall.
"Ah—! Do-yoon— too deep—!"
He froze instantly, forehead pressing to hers, breath ragged.
"Yeon-hwa… look at me," he panted. "Tell me if it hurts."
She shook her head, voice quivering.
"It doesn't— just— give me a second—"
His thumb stroked her cheek, gentle even while shaking.
"God, you're so tight," he ground out, jaw clenched. "You're gripping me like—"
"Move," she whispered, pleading, her nails dragging down his back. "Please— move—"
He groaned low, a raw sound he'd never made before, and began to thrust again, slower but deeper, each movement sending shockwaves up her spine.
"Yeon-hwa—" he hissed through his teeth, "you feel unreal—"
Her head fell back, a cry escaping her.
"Don't stop— please— don't stop—"
His pace quickened again, control snapping.
"Hold on to me," he growled, voice breaking, "I'm not letting you go."
Her hands tangled in his hair, her breath scattering.
"Do-yoon— I— I'm—"
"Stay with me," he whispered fiercely. "I'm right here." The sensation was overwhelming, a deep, insistent pressure that bordered on exquisite pain, his movements hard and unrelenting, as if he were trying to imprint himself into her very essence, the slick warmth building between them until it spilled over, a hot rush that left trails down her thighs even as he continued, lifting her higher and pressing her against the wall with renewed vigor. Her nails raked across his shoulders, leaving faint red marks, while her moans filled the air, a symphony of need and surrender that echoed off the dimly lit walls, the musky scent of their shared arousal mingling with the faint trace of rain from outside.
Do-yoon's pace quickened, yet he held back just enough to draw out the torment, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered encouragements that blurred into pleas, "Take it all, feel me everywhere," his body moving with a primal urgency that had her wrapping her legs tighter around him, the friction building to an almost unbearable peak. The room seemed to spin around them—the soft rustle of discarded clothes on the floor, the creak of the bed in the distance, the way his muscles flexed and corded under her touch—as he shifted again, carrying her toward the edge of the desk, never breaking their connection, his thrusts deep and claiming, each one sending shockwaves through her that left her gasping for more, the emotional weight of their shared desire wrapping around them like a tangible force, binding them in this feverish dance of bodies and hearts.
"Do-yoon—!" her voice cracked, fingers locking behind his neck.
"I've got you," he murmured, voice rough with need. "Hold on."
He carried her across the room, not breaking contact for a second, until her back met the polished edge of the desk. The surface was cool against her skin, and she let out a sharp inhale, her hands fisting in his shirt.
"Look at me," he whispered, lifting her chin gently. "I need to see you."
Her eyes met his, dark and dazed with heat, and the sight seemed to destroy the last pieces of his restraint. His forehead rested against hers, breaths mingling, their hearts pounding like a shared rhythm.
"You feel like… you're pulling me apart," he breathed, voice shaking. "I can't think when you're this close."
"Then don't think," she whispered, her breath warm against his mouth. "Just feel."
Do-yoon's hands tightened at her waist, guiding her closer with reverent urgency.
"You're shaking," he murmured, brushing her cheek with his thumb.
"Because of you," she whispered, eyes fluttering, "only you."
The words broke something in him—he let out a low, raw groan and pulled her closer, movements deep and intense enough to steal her breath. She clung to him, her forehead dropping to his shoulder.
"Do-yoon—" she gasped softly, nails dragging down his back, "slow— please—"
He stilled instantly, chest heaving.
"Tell me how," he whispered against her ear. "Guide me."
"Just… steady," she breathed. "I want to feel you."
"Okay," he murmured, voice wrecked and tender all at once. "I'll follow you."
He adjusted his hold, one hand behind her back, supporting her carefully.
Her legs tightened around him, pulling him closer without thinking, and he groaned, pressing his face into the crook of her neck.
"You're going to destroy me, Yeon-hwa," he whispered, voice breaking. "I can't hold back when you touch me like this."
"Then don't," she whispered again—plea more than command.
His pace built again, controlled but intense, each movement tightening the knot of tension between them. Their breaths tangled, their bodies shuddering with shared urgency, the desk trembling faintly beneath them with every motion.
As the feverish dance of their bodies reached its crescendo, Do-yoon's thrusts grew more deliberate, each one driving deeper into the core of her being, where the building tension coiled like a storm ready to break. Yeon-hwa's gasps turned to breathless cries, her fingers digging into the taut muscles of his back as the slick heat between them intensified, her inner walls clenching around him with an urgency that matched his own. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his breath coming in harsh, uneven pants against her sweat-slicked skin, the scent of rain and their mingled arousal filling the air like a heady perfume. Every movement amplified the raw connection between them, the emotional undercurrent of longing and surrender weaving through the physical ecstasy, until his body tensed, a low growl escaping his lips as he surged forward one final time, releasing in a powerful wave that shuddered through him and into her, the hot rush filling her with a profound, intimate warmth that left them both trembling in the afterglow.
For a moment, they remained locked together, his weight pressing her gently into the bed's soft duvet, their hearts pounding in sync as the room's dim light softened the edges of their exhaustion. Yeon-hwa's eyelids grew heavy, the overwhelming surge of sensations ebbing into a blissful haze, and she let her head rest on his chest, her body molding against his in quiet surrender. The steady rise and fall of his breathing lulled her further, the faint saltiness of his skin on her lips as she pressed a lazy kiss to his collarbone, her limbs heavy with contentment. Do-yoon, still catching his breath, wrapped his arms around her protectively, feeling the stickiness between them—a tangible reminder of their shared intensity—and with careful, tender movements, he shifted slightly, easing her onto the bed beside him. He reached for a soft cloth from the nightstand, his fingers gentle as he wiped away the traces of their passion from her skin, the cool fabric brushing over her thighs and abdomen in soothing strokes that made her sigh in relaxation, his touch infused with a quiet reverence that spoke of his deepening affection.
Exhaustion claimed them both then, the night's fervor giving way to a peaceful quiet, and as Yeon-hwa nestled closer, her head tucked under his chin, Do-yoon pulled the covers over them, the fabric settling like a warm embrace. The distant patter of rain outside faded into the background, and he closed his eyes, the steady rhythm of her breathing against his chest lulling him into sleep, their bodies entwined in the quiet aftermath of their storm.
The morning light was too bright.
It pressed against the inside of her eyelids, warm and insistent, pulling her slowly, unwillingly, toward consciousness. Her head felt heavy — not painful, not dizzy, simply… weighted. As if something important was floating just outside her reach.
She shifted slightly.
A firm arm tightened around her waist.
Her eyes snapped open.
…What?
Her breath caught in her throat as heat — not the same desperate heat from the night but a flushing, startled warmth — spread across her chest.
She looked down.
A bare chest.
A strong, steady breath against her shoulder.
An expensive, cool-toned cologne mixed faintly with her own warm vanilla aura.
Her pulse spiked.
No.
No, no—
She shut her eyes, trying to grasp the sharp, scattered fragments of last night.
The lounge.
The blurred lights.
His voice.
His hands.
Her breath.
His mouth.
Velvet.
Heat.
Darkness.
She inhaled sharply — too sharply.
Don't panic.
Don't scream.
Don't make a sound.
She forced herself to turn, inch by inch, barely shifting the sheets.
She needed to see who—
Her heart froze.
Kang Do-yoon.
He lay beside her, sheets low around his waist, his hair slightly tousled, jaw sharp in the sunlight.
Stone-faced even in sleep.
Unapproachable.
Cold.
Exactly who he always was.
A breath she didn't know she'd been holding escaped her.
Relief washed over her like cold water.
"Oh," she whispered under her breath. "It's you."
Her shoulders dropped.
Because if it was him…
If it was Kang Do-yoon…
He wouldn't cling to her.
He wouldn't ask questions.
He wouldn't make it emotional.
He wouldn't accuse her.
He wouldn't suddenly "want" her.
He barely liked being in the same room as her before.
He would treat this as a mistake.
A lapse.
A moment that meant nothing.
Good.
The last thing she needed was messy entanglements.
She slowly lifted his arm from her waist. His fingers twitched once, as if his body noticed the loss of her warmth, but he stayed asleep.
Thank God.
She slid out of the bed carefully, quietly.
Her clothes from last night were on a nearby chair.
She dressed quickly, smoothing her blouse, checking her appearance once in a darkened window.
No obvious marks.
No bruises.
No visible signs of—
She exhaled.
Good.
She took one last look at the man in the bed.
Cold.
Silent.
Still.
The type who would wake, frown, and move on with his day without a single unnecessary word.
Exactly what she needed.
Under her breath, she murmured:
"Let's forget it."
Then she stepped out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.
She didn't see the moment his eyes opened.
Or how they sharpened instantly.
Or how his hand curled slowly into a fist on the empty side of the bed.
Or how his jaw flexed — once, twice — as if trying to break something inside himself.
He stared at the door she had just walked through.
Forget it?
Impossible.