He didn't just say it he wrapped his hand around the heat of me, working me until it throbbed, growing hotter and harder by the second.
"Ah— not so hard… that's sensitive. W‑wait, aren't you supposed to be drunk? Why are you…?"
"Throwing up sobers you up, you know. So… will you be my boyfriend, hmm?"
That little hmm God, he really has no idea who he's teasing.
The brat slid lower until he was talking directly to the 'cannon' between my legs, looking like he was having the time of his life messing with me and watching me squirm.
"My face is up here. Why are you chatting with that instead?"
His body alone was enough to tempt a monk, and now he was posing like one of those adult-film stars I watch—his expression downright sinful.
"I'm checking the goods," he said. "Unless my eyes are playing tricks on me, this right here… is foreign‑sized. Big, long, and hard."
So he likes them big, huh?
What a wicked little prince.
If this is what he's like drunk… maybe I really should spike his drink next time.
The touch was teasing, making it hard to resist, and though I wanted to pull away, I couldn't deny the thrill.
"Don't… that tickles!"
"Will you be my partner, then?" It wasn't a question I could ignore.
It pressed closer, playful and mischievous, testing my reactions, making me squirm and laugh nervously.
I couldn't help but notice how bold and confident it was, as if daring me to react.
Every movement, every gentle press, sent my heart racing. Even though this wasn't real—our relationship was just a game—I couldn't deny how exhilarating it was to be close. If I were wealthy, I might not even have to overthink these moments, waiting for a prompt like this.
It leaned in, close and daring, teasing with quick, playful gestures that left me flushed. Its hands were firm yet soft, guiding me, testing my limits, while I could barely keep my composure. My heart pounded like it might burst out of my chest.
Our movements intertwined, delicate but electric. Every touch, every brush of skin sent shivers down my spine. It was thrilling in a way I had never experienced before.
Its playful kisses were bold yet sweet, leaving me breathless. My hands roamed, returning affection, caught in the heat of the moment, the closeness, the excitement.
We moved together like dancers, synchronizing without thinking, feeling the rhythm of the connection. Each touch and response fed the intensity, the excitement, the joy of the closeness we shared.
Time seemed to blur; the room around us faded as we lost ourselves in the thrill. Even when it paused, the anticipation hung in the air, electric, teasing, almost unbearable.
And yet, despite the chaos of emotions, there was laughter, a shared smile, a teasing glance that made every second feel like a delicate, exciting game of closeness and trust.
By the time the fires of passion had finally burned out, the dark sky had already turned golden with the arrival of a new day.
"Th-thirsty…"
Clink, clank…
"Thirsty…"
A hoarse, almost frightening voice whispered.
"Pee… P'Fah…"
"Huh?! W-who's… who's calling me?!"
"…It's me."
"Oh… Ung Ing, calling me?"
"Mm… thirsty."
"Ah, okay, okay. I'll get it for you."
Damn it! My heart skipped a beat. Waking up in the same bed with Ung Ing, looking more wrecked than wrecked, hearing that hoarse duck-like voice—I thought a ghost was haunting me. But when my eyes adjusted, I saw the messy aftermath of us collapsing on the bed, bodies tangled, still hot from our endless back-to-back marathon. His pale skin, tattooed in countless places, didn't stand a chance against the red marks I'd left all over him. Damn… this feels amazing!
"Here you go~" I served him right to his lips, popped the bottle on with a straw like a new mom feeding her baby. Ung Ing raised an eyebrow, giving me that mischievous look—I couldn't resist flicking his cheek once.
Damn, he's adorable~
"Hungry?"
The young master seemed utterly drained, drinking almost the whole bottle of water before lying back down. I wasn't sure if he was sick, so I reached out and touched his forehead—just a little warm, probably fine. Well, someone who exercises daily isn't going to get sick just from a marathon sex session, right? I smoothed his pale cheek gently, watching him rest.
"What time is it?" Ung Ing playfully nibbled my hand as he asked.
"Oh, it's noon. Hungry?" The clock read midday perfect time for lunch.
"Mm," he croaked, his dry voice barely audible.
"I'll make you something. What do you want?"
"There's nothing fresh in the fridge." Damn it. I know your place has a giant fridge filled with water and cosmetic supplements, but no actual food… typical rich kid.
"There's some in my place. What do you like to eat?"
"An omelet is fine… shouldn't be hard or take too long."
"You're hungry, huh~"
"Mm."
When that muscle‑bound idiot starts acting cute, he shrinks down to the size of a kitten. I couldn't resist—I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
"I'll be right back, okay?"
"P'Fah…"
"Hmm?"
"Come back quickly."
"…Yeah, yeah, I will."
God, this brat is adorable. How can someone that big be this soft first thing in the morning? I've never fussed over anyone like this before. I practically sprinted to make him a minced‑pork omelet at light speed. When I returned, he was still sprawled on the bed looking pale, so I scooped him up and sat him on my lap on the couch. He muttered that he didn't want to trouble me and could feed himself—but too bad. I'm feeding him. Let me be whipped in peace.
After he finished eating, I ran him a warm bath and let him soak while I cleaned up our battlefield from last night—laundry, sweeping, mopping, everything until the room looked spotless. Whoever ends up with me as their man basically wins the lottery…
"Not going to work today?"
We were lounging in the dim living room, curtains drawn. The guy who looks huge and intimidating to everyone else was curled on my chest like a lazy cat, completely content.
"How could I go? Look at me," he grumbled, pointing out the red marks everywhere.
"Oh my, someone got bitten by mosquitoes all over~" I teased, wrapping an arm around him and rocking him gently.
"Don't tease me…"
"It'd be nice if we could stay like this forever, huh?"
"Then stay. Where would you even go? You don't want to stay with me?"
"I do… I just… might not be good enough."
"What are you saying? I'm not looking for a saint. You're already stupidly handsome."
"Oh? Complimenting a guy now? How many times did you get ruined last night to be this lovesick, huh? Hahaha."
"So what if I'm lovesick? Am I not allowed to be?"
"Keep talking like that and I'll kiss you senseless."
"You idiot.." He hid his face against my neck, flustered.
"Are you happy?"
I wasn't sure who I was asking him or myself.
I don't know how far we'll go. I don't know if, once he finds out how broke I really am, he'll still want to cling to me, kiss me, curl up in my arms like this.
But I'm selfish. I want this happiness.
I want him.
I want to take care of my grandma.
And right now, this is the only path I have left.
Several days later…
"Why do you like drinking sweet drinks so much?"
"Big guys need lots of energy, you know?"
"You can get energy from other things too. Drink more water—it's healthier for you."
I love sweet drinks, but he, who's always watching his figure, only drinks mineral water. His high-society habits make me feel like a fallen angel has landed from the heavens. We've been inseparable like a pair of fried dough sticks for two months now. In our so-called husband-and-wife relationship, he often skips work just to laze around in the room with me, engaging in all sorts of couple activities—clinging to each other, touching, practically like two animals addicted to each other. We make love whenever there's a chance, and our outings mostly involve walking around malls to buy ingredients to cook together, turning the kitchen into our private playground.
"You're really good at Thai food. I thought you could only cook Western dishes. If I gain weight, it's your fault."
"Gaining a little weight isn't bad… I like a little meat on you. It's sexy as hell."
"You're way too sweet with your words."
"Your lips are sweeter soft, sweet, and so damn talkative."