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furioussheepluminary · 1 month ago

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𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬

Pairing: merman!hyunjin x marinespecialist!afab!reader, fantasy au

Synopsis: meeting a merman at work wasn't on the schedule. neither was having feelings.

Warnings: gore a teeny bit, fantasy fluff, strange sounds and feelings, language barrier, confused feelings, innocent curiosity

A/n: inspired by @ssickmagnolia8's losing my breath for you. If you have extra eyes for errors no you don't . I tried so hard to get out of my writers block 😭 I barely have inspo but my drafts are crazy full 😭

You weren’t raised on fairy tales. You were raised on currents. Your father was a sailor, your mother a coastal ecologist, and the ocean was their god. Family vacations were tidepool cataloging. Bedtime stories were legends about deep-sea creatures that mimicked men but weren’t. But you didn’t believe in monsters—not really. You believed in data. Pressure changes. Temperature shifts. Migration patterns. At seventeen, you watched your mother drown. Not in a storm. Not in a dramatic, cinematic scene. No. Your mother simply walked into the tide, arms wide, eyes blank, whispering something only the water could hear. Her body was never found.

You never went near the shore for five years.

But obsession is the child of grief.

You became a specialist in acoustic telemetry, tracking marine life through sound and signal. You hunted the sea with sonar instead of boats. Your reports were clinical. Clean. Controlled

Still, you pushed forward. You had a name to clear, a memory to honor, and a gut feeling you couldn’t shake. Something was wrong with the ocean.

The SS Kismet was a research vessel outfitted for deep-sea tracking, manned by six specialists and one quietly fraying you. The day was standard. The sun overhead bleached the deck white, waves slapped rhythmically against the hull, and the equipment hummed with numbers and graphs. you stood near the stern, notebook in hand, listening to the low-frequency pings returning from their latest scan.

“Same patterns as last week,” murmured Aaron, the lead sonar tech. “Migration normal. No anomalies.”

You didn’t respond. Her eyes flicked to the live display:

Depth: 145 meters. Movement: Moderate. Bio-signature: 3.4

Everything made sense. That was the problem.

The sea was too quiet. After five hours, the crew packed up. Equipment retracted, samples secured, reports logged. The boat turned back toward shore under a rose-gold sky, and conversation rose around you—light, casual. But you stayed at the edge of the boat, watching the way the water seemed to stretch too long. Like it was holding its breath. They docked by sunset. Seagulls screamed over the marina. Lights from the harbor winked like tired eyes. The others disembarked, laughing, boots hitting wet wood. You trailed behind them… until she saw it.

Far off. Barely visible in the waning light. Something was moving. Not in the water, from the shore. It was tall. Human-shaped, but too fluid. Staggering like its bones didn’t fit right. Its skin—if it had skin—glinted wet like oil on pavement. It moved into the surf, slow and steady. Not fighting the pull. Letting the sea take it back.

You squinted. No one else noticed. You opened your mouth to speak, but your throat clenched. Because the thing paused.

And turned.

And though it had no eyes you could see, you felt it look at you. Right at you.

Your voice cracked in the thick evening air as you called out, “Guys? Hey—HEY!”

But your words dissolved into the wind, carried off with the laughter of the team now too far along the dock. Their boots were on asphalt. Yours were still on splintered planks. Alone.

You cursed under your breath. The figure had disappeared into the surf, but her gut twisted with the knowledge, it was still there. Half-lost in the tide, half-drenched in something darker. Not seaweed. Not shadow. Blood.

Your hand slipped into your gear pouch, fingers wrapping tightly around the hilt of a folding blade. Not large. Not elegant. Just sharp enough to buy you three seconds if things went wrong. And something told you they were about to. The dock faded behind you as you stepped off onto the wet sand, shoes sinking slightly. The air was cooler down here, closer to the sea’s breath. You moved carefully, knees bent, eyes squinting into the low mist as the tide rolled in slow and deliberate like it was trying to lull you.

Then you saw it. He was collapsed at the edge where sea met sand, half-submerged, slumped like a dying god. Not a man. Not entirely.

His body was long, too long. From the waist up, he looked almost human—shoulders broad, chest marked with faint violet ridges that pulsed softly, like gills. His skin was damp, luminous, stretched over lean muscle and speckled with gashes, torn open by jagged coral or perhaps claws of his own kind. But from the waist down…a tail. Not cartoonish or shiny. This was monstrous beauty. Deep, obsidian-blue scales etched with silver patterns like ancient runes. Fins like torn silk fluttered weakly at the edge, trembling with effort. Blood—dark, almost black—pooled beneath him in the sand and hissed quietly when it touched saltwater.

His hair was soaked and tangled, clinging to his sharp cheekbones, framing a face too sculpted to be human. Ethereal. High-boned. Lips split at the corner. Eyes—

Oh God, his eyes. They snapped open at your approach.

Sharp. Slit pupils. The color of storm-lit seawater green and grey and gold all at once.

And then he hissed. Low. Defensive. His lips peeled back just enough to show teeth—sharp, serrated like a predator’s.

You froze, raising your free hand. “Hey—hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

But he didn’t understand. Or didn’t care. His arms pushed against the wet sand, trying to lift himself. A growl reverberated deep in his chest as he whipped his tail, sending a spray of water across your face. The movement tore open a gash along his hip, he let out a strained cry, somewhere between rage and agony, before collapsing back with a choked gasp.

You stepped forward instinctively, breath shallow.

He was shaking. Drenched. Wild. And yet… vulnerable. This was no sea monster.

This was someone. And he was dying. Your heart hammered as you stepped closer, sand slipping under your boots. Your hands were up—one still holding the small knife, the other palm-out, slow, nonthreatening.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” you whispered, voice thick with breath. “You’re hurt. I—I can help.”

But he didn’t understand your words. He only saw movement. A human form. Something closer. With a feral grunt, the merman twisted, shoulder muscles flaring, tail slapping the sand in a weak arc. He tried to crawl back toward the surf instinct pulling him to the safety of the ocean, of away. But pain lanced through him again. His shoulder gave out. One of the wounds split wider, the dark ichor spilling fresh and hot.

He cried out, low and guttural, collapsing again with a strangled wince.

You flinched but didn’t move away. Her pulse skipped, but your feet stayed rooted.

You dropped to your knees a few feet from him and carefully pulled your field pack open. Out came a fabric square, military-grade wound wrap, waterproof and heat-reactive. Not exactly meant for mythological sea creatures, but she had to try.

You slid forward. Close enough now to hear the rough sound of his breath—shaky and uneven. “I’m going to touch you now,” she murmured, voice trembling. “Please don’t—don’t freak out.”

He snarled again, a rumble in his throat, but it wasn’t as sharp. More confused than aggressive now. He tracked every movement of your hand with those uncanny eyes. You leaned in, breath soft, and gently pressed the wrap to the gash along his ribs. His skin twitched beneath her touch warm, slick, and… not completely alien. The scales shimmered faintly beneath your fingertips, flexing and fluttering as if responding to her. He hissed again, low and tight. Not from anger this time from pain. But he didn’t strike. Didn’t move away.

The bandage clung instantly, sealed by body heat. You pulled another out and looked at him.

“I can help with the rest,” she said softly, holding the next strip up. “If you let me. If you can… I don’t know, trust me?”

He blinked. Slow. The growling had stopped. His eyes scanned your face, lingered on your lips, your eyes like he was trying to read something in you, some language you weren’t speaking. He shifted, inching forward on trembling arms. His head dipped slightly. One of his fins curled inward. And then—quietly, hesitantly—he leaned toward you.

You sucked in a breath as he drew closer, breath brushing your cheek, cool and wet like fog. His tail slid across the sand with a soft drag. He was allowing it now. Allowing you. His body gave the answer his voice couldn’t. You moved gently, methodically, patching another wound on his side, then his forearm. The gashes were bad—too deep for you to handle on a beach. He needed more. He needed help. But he was still looking at you.

And not like you were a threat anymore. You sat back on your heels, hands trembling just slightly from the cold, the adrenaline, the impossibility of what you was seeing. You’d patched him up best you could with what you had, but they couldn’t stay here. Someone would find them. Your team would come looking. And he… he couldn’t defend himself like this.

You looked down at him, where he was half-curled in the sand. Still bleeding. Breathing hard. “Can you walk?” she muttered aloud, half to herself, her voice barely above the hush of the waves behind them.

You realized how stupid it sounded the second it left your mouth—he had a tail, not legs.

But still, she made the motion with her fingers, as if puppeteering invisible legs. A silly little walking gesture, the way you’d signal to a child. To your absolute disbelief, his eyes followed the motion. His brows furrowed in that elegant, ocean-slick face. He looked at his own tail. Looked at your. Then—

He began to shift.

Slow at first. Painfully. The sound that came from his throat was low and rough, like gravel pulled by the tide. But his body began to change. The fin that had glimmered like black opal under moonlight began to split, crackling, warping, folding in on itself like liquid glass folding into clay. The deep iridescent scales retreated, melting away like dew drying off skin. His tail was gone. In its place: long, pale legs, scarred and sleek. Powerful thighs. Knees bent awkwardly as if unfamiliar. The bruises from earlier still colored his skin. Salt and blood clung to him in places no human anatomy textbook could prepare you for.

Your lips parted, jaw slack. “What the actual—”

He looked up at you, panting. Exhausted. On his hands and knees now, shivering in the wind and the wetness, completely bare and utterly other. But also… human. Or something achingly close. You stumbled to your feet, ditching the knife completely now, and bent to hook an arm under his. “Okay, alright. Come on. I’ve got you.”

He flinched as their skin touched, his reflexes still caught between fight or flight. But this time, he didn’t pull away. He let you help him.

You pulled his arm over your shoulder, feeling the sharp weight of him, every muscle trembling under the strain of transformation. His wet skin pressed against your clothes, soaking through instantly. He leaned heavily on you, and she tightened your grip, breath hitching as he groaned again. They stumbled together across the beach, two shadows limping toward the faint lights of the Marine Center in the distance. You kept your head low, whispering reassurances under your breath, some for him, most for yourself.

“Just a little further, okay? We’re almost there. You’re doing good… god, you’re doing so good.”

You used the back entrance of the Center—you’d done it a hundred times for late data drops, but never with a naked injured merman draped over you like seaweed.

Somehow—by divine panic and dumb luck—they made it across the dark, tiled hallway, up a flight of stairs, and into your tiny staff dorm tucked behind the labs. You kicked the door shut behind them and locked it in one motion.

Inside: warm, quiet, safe.

You turned to him. He was half-collapsed against your twin bed, blinking slowly, skin clammy, lips slightly parted in pain and confusion. So much humanity in his expression. So much… fear. You swallowed hard and dropped beside him.

“I don’t know what the hell you are,” you whispered, brushing hair—still wet, still tangled with seaweed and blood—out of his eyes. “But I’ve got you now.”

You moved quickly now, your brain scrambling to shift from shock to survival mode. You rummaged through the spare shelf under your bed and yanked out a clean, fluffy gray blanket—one you usually used for late night writing sessions or curling up with ocean current charts. Not for covering up the naked sea man bleeding out in your room. You turned back to him, and he was watching you. Dazed. Alert, somehow, but like he was in a completely foreign world his body shivering, his mouth slightly parted, hair clinging to his cheek in stringy wet ribbons.

“Okay,” you breathed, kneeling down. “I’m not gonna look. Promise. Just—just let me…”

You draped the blanket over his hips carefully, gently, shielding his body from view. He flinched at the sudden warmth, but didn’t stop you. His eyes stayed locked to yours.

God. He was beautiful in the kind of way nightmares made you want to stay asleep. His features sharp, yet soft where it mattered, scars across his chest, jaw taut, lashes too dark for someone that alien. That injured. You turned away for a second and grabbed your first aid kit from your bottom drawer. The click of the latch opening echoed like a scream in the quiet room. You pulled out antiseptic, gauze, butterfly stitches, and waterproof medical tape.

“Okay, okay…” you whispered, settling beside him again. your hands hovered over his ribs, hesitant. “You’re not gonna hiss at me again, right?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. You smiled nervously. “Yeah, I didn’t think you understood that.”

Still, you took the silence as permission and began cleaning one of the slashes along his side. He tensed immediately, but didn’t strike or pull back. Just let out a low, shaky sound somewhere between a growl and a breath. His muscles tightened under your fingers.

“Sorry. I know. This probably stings.” He made a small noise in reply. It wasn’t a word, but it wasn’t nothing either. It sounded like… acknowledgment. Like he was trying to echo your tone, mirror her comfort.

“That’s right, okay…” she murmured. “You’ve got a bit of sea glass in here. Jesus, what happened to you?”

No answer. But the way his fingers curled into the edge of the blanket made you think—something bad. Something he couldn’t explain. Or didn’t want to.

“You’re not from here, are you?” you whispered. “God, what am I even asking… Of course you’re not.”

Again, he didn’t respond. But he watched you. With that eerie intensity. You moved to his arm next, patching a shallow puncture wound near his bicep. His skin was oddly soft under your hands. Like velvet soaked in sea salt. And warm. Too warm. “I don’t even know if this stuff works on you,” you muttered as you applied ointment and sealed the wound with gauze. “I mean, for all I know, you could be allergic to—”

Knock knock knock.

You froze.

Three crisp knocks. Familiar. Then a voice.

“Y/N? You in there?” Her heart dropped into her stomach.

It was Maya—from the marine lab downstairs. Always checking in. Always conveniently around when you didn’t want to be disturbed. You turned sharply to the merman and whispered, “Stay quiet. Please, just—don’t move.”

He blinked slowly. Stayed perfectly still.

“Yeah!” you called, scrambling to her feet, trying to sound normal. You stepped toward the door, heart slamming in your chest. “I’m just—uh—getting ready to crash. What’s up?” Maya’s voice was muffled through the wood. “You alright? I didn’t see you with the others after landing. We were gonna go over sonar readings in the morning but—if something’s up—”

“No! No, I’m good,” you replied, too fast. Too bright. “Just tired. You know how the sea gets to me.”

A beat. Then, “Alright. You sure?” You looked over your shoulder. The merman’s eyes were on you. Unmoving. But… calm.

“I’m sure,” you said, softer this time. Another pause. Then footsteps retreating.

You exhaled all at once, sagging against the door. You turned back to him, letting your back slide down the wood until you were sitting again. His head tilted slightly at you, like he understood everything and nothing all at once.

“Okay,” you whispered. “You just became my biggest secret.”

The antiseptic sting was nearly done now—just a few more cleaned cuts and sealed bruises. You moved with careful hands, your breath soft and slow as you finished wrapping a particularly deep laceration just under his collarbone. The moment felt still. Thick. Like the air around them had pressed pause to let something ancient slip in between.

You gently pressed the last bit of gauze in place, smoothing it down with your palm.

“You’re not bleeding anymore,” you murmured. “That’s a start.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his. He was staring. No—focused. Brow furrowed, mouth slightly parted. Not in confusion… in concentration.

“Are you—are you okay?” you asked, softly. “Does anything still hurt?” His lips moved. Just a little. Then again. She paused.

“Wait… did you—did you say something?”

He did it again. This time, slower. And then—barely audible—a whisper, rough like gravel washed up on shore:

“…Hyun…jin…”

You blinked. Your heart skipped.

“You—your name?” you whispered, eyes wide. “Is that your name?”

He gave a weak nod, eyes fluttering as if even that had drained him. “Hyunjin…” she repeated softly, like it was a sacred word. “That’s beautiful. Well, mine’s Y/N.”

His mouth twitched—something like a smirk, but more like relief. Then he tried again, speaking low, gravelly, the syllables pulling against his throat like he wasn’t used to forming them.

“I… learn…”

You leaned in instinctively, every hair on her arm standing on end. Your lips parted, disbelief creasing her brows.

“…your… speak. Lips. Words.”

You sat up a little straighter, realization blooming in your chest like heat. “You’re reading my lips,” you breathed. “You’re trying to talk like me…”

He nodded again. Slow. Exhausted. But committed.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, scrambling to the side table for your small, water-stained notebook and a pencil. You scribbled something down quickly, mouthing the word as you wrote it. “That’s… that’s incredible. You’ve been watching how I talk and trying to mimic it—do you know how hard that is?”

Hyunjin blinked. His shoulders rose and fell, barely able to shrug—but his gaze never left yours. You set the book down and looked back at him, your voice gentler now.

“Can you tell me what happened to you?”

He blinked. Then glanced toward the floor like he was searching for a word buried in the shadows.

“…dark…” he rasped.

You leaned in, eyes flicking across his lips, helping him find the rest. “Dark?” she echoed. “You were… somewhere dark?”

He nodded. Struggled.

“Chains,” he whispered next, the word thick and ugly in his mouth. “Hurt. Hunt. Run…” Your stomach dropped. The pencil in her hand went still.

“They hunted you?”

His eyes darkened. He nodded once. The memory laced with something almost feral, something wild and buried.You placed a hand on your notebook, the other gently touching his arm.

“I won’t let them find you again,” she said. Firm. Soft, but sure. “You’re safe here, okay? I promise.”

He stared at her. And this time, something deep in his chest shifted. His head tilted forward slightly.

---

The rain had started again—soft, misty, tapping against the dorm window like fingers too shy to knock. You set your kit aside, tucking bandage scraps back into their place, then wiped your hands on the towel draped across her lap. Hyunjin sat propped against the bedframe, now cloaked in the oversized blanket you’d given him earlier, the dark fabric falling over his lap and down his hips, obscuring the freshly formed legs that still trembled when he moved them too quickly.

“You must be starving,” you said, more to yourself than to him as you stood and stretched your arms above your head.

“No.”

You paused. Turned slowly to him, brows slightly raised. He had spoken clearly. Not perfectly. The edges of the word still had a rawness to them, a beginner’s sharpness. But it was unmistakable.

“No?” you repeated, a smile tugging at your lips.

He shook his head, still watching you.

“Okay…” you murmured, moving toward your desk. “I’ll eat something myself, then. You sure you don’t want something? Just a snack? Fish—oh. That might be offensive.”

He didn’t laugh. But you caught the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth. You opened a granola bar instead, taking a quiet bite while flipping through your research journal. But even as you tried to distract yourself with the scribbled notes and observations from that morning’s dive, you felt him watching.

Your gaze slowly lifted. Hyunjin hadn’t moved. Not even a blink. He was staring. Unapologetically. Eyes fixed on you like you were the only real thing in the room. The only solid thread holding him above water. You cleared your throat and looked back down at the pages, pretending not to notice the burn of his gaze.

You turned a page. He was still staring. You tried adjusting the chair. Shifted your posture. Took another bite. Still. Eyes on you.

“I can feel you watching me, you know,” you muttered, not unkindly. You glanced up again. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Hyunjin tilted his head slightly. Like he didn’t understand the question. Like that wasn’t unusual.

You leaned forward on your elbows, eyes narrowing slightly, but your smile stayed.

“I’m not that interesting,” you teased. He nodded.

You blinked. “Wait. You’re saying I am that interesting?” Another slow nod.

And still—his gaze didn’t falter. You bit the inside of her cheek, cheeks heating. “You really are learning fast.”

Hyunjin’s eyes softened a little. As if your amusement pleased him. As if your presence, chaotic and human as it was, brought something to his chest that hurt a little less. You sighed, shutting your notebook and setting it aside. You stood and walked slowly over to him.

He straightened—just slightly. Still weak. Still wrapped in layers of pain. But attentive. You sat at the edge of the bed, cross-legged, and faced him.

“You don’t have to keep staring like I’m going to disappear,” you said quietly. “I’m not.”

He didn’t answer. But the way his eyes dropped—for a moment—to her hands resting in your lap… then slowly lifted back to meet yours…

It said everything.

The room had settled into a gentle quiet. The rain outside had softened to a drizzle, a constant hush against the glass. The kind of lull that made time feel slower, suspended in a fragile bubble of calm. You stood, brushing invisible lint off her shirt before turning to face Hyunjin. “I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you said, half-expecting no reply. “Don’t touch anything. I mean it. Don’t go poking around or—” you paused, narrowing her eyes, “—biting my electronics.”

Hyunjin blinked up at you from where he sat on the bed, cocooned in the blanket like it was part of him now. His lips moved, just a little—mimicking the shape of your words. But he didn’t speak. You smiled, gave him a little nod, then grabbed your towel, clean clothes, and a small caddy of products before disappearing into the bathroom. The door shut with a click. The soft shuffle of clothing followed, then the metallic hiss of the shower turning on.

At first, Hyunjin did nothing. Just sat there.

But… the sound of the water. The echo of your voice still lingering. The delicate scent of her body wash in the air. It was unfamiliar… intoxicating. And more than anything, his curiosity was gnawing at him. Was she… cleansing her scales?

Like he did in the moonpools beneath the reef?

He shifted his legs off the bed—still new, still foreign. They trembled under his weight, but he managed to stand. A soft grunt left him as he staggered toward the bathroom, one hand trailing along the wall for balance. The floor was cold against his soles. Each step felt uncertain.

He reached the door. Didn’t knock.

Didn’t even think to. The door wasn’t fully shut. Just barely ajar. Enough for him to press a hand against the wood and nudge it open silently. Steam rushed out instantly, curling like seafoam around his feet. The air was thick with warmth and lavender. His dark eyes flicked upward.

And there you were. Silhouetted through the fogged glass of the shower.

Water traced down the length of her body—rivulets running along her shoulders, down her back, catching the curves of her waist. Her hair clung to her skin, dripping. Her skin glowed under the bathroom light, radiant, almost otherworldly.

Hyunjin's breath caught. His heart thudded.

She… she didn’t have scales.

Not visibly.

But your skin—it shimmered slightly in the heat, smooth like moon-polished shells. Unmarked. Unnatural in the way it tugged at something deep in him. Your limbs, the way you moved, the grace—

He wondered, foolishly, if you were like him. A creature hiding among humans. Then you turned. You reached for a small bottle, arm extending, her gaze shifting—right into his. They locked eyes.

Everything froze. Your expression contorted in a split second from relaxed to horrified.

“JESUS—HYUNJIN!”

You fumbled for the shower door, practically slipping in place. “GET OUT!” you shouted, voice bouncing off the tile walls, echoing in his ears. Hyunjin’s eyes widened like he’d just been caught stealing a royal treasure. His cheeks flushed a violent red—deep, warm, crawling all the way to his ears.

“Sorry—sorry—!” he blurted in a mangled rush of syllables, then staggered back, nearly tripping on his own feet as he yanked the door shut behind him.

Thud. A beat of silence. Then the sound of water slapping tile resumed.

Hyunjin stumbled backward into the room, hands clutched over his face. He fell onto the bed like a sack of kelp, groaning softly, curling into himself beneath the blanket.

His heart wouldn’t slow down. You looked like a sea spirit. A siren. A goddess. He buried his face into the pillow and whispered to himself in broken syllables, “She’s not… mermaid? But… so… shining…”

He wasn’t sure what he’d just done. But he was absolutely sure he would never be able to look you in the eyes again without drowning in heat.

The door creaked open slowly, steam billowing out like a slow exhale from a sleeping giant.

You stepped out, wrapped in a thick towel, your damp hair clinging to your shoulders, droplets tracing the slope of your collarbone. You clutched your clothes to your chest with one hand and rubbed the towel dry against your temple with the other. Your skin was flushed from the heat of the water—and maybe a little from what just happened.

Hyunjin was sitting on the bed, perfectly still, legs crossed beneath the blanket like a chastised child. His gaze was fixed firmly on the floor, ears beet-red, and his fingers fidgeted with the fabric on his lap.

You raised a brow, then—softened. You tried to keep your expression firm, tried to muster the energy to be mad, but the sheer look of guilt on his face, the nervous way he sat there like a drenched cat in trouble, made your laugh.

“Well,” you said as you padded closer, “if you were trying to sneak up on a woman—you failed miserably.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened. He scrambled to shake his head, hands waving in front of him in frantic denial. “No! No sneak—I was… just… see? Curiosity!” His voice was breathy, each syllable clumsy but earnest, like he was still tasting every word for the first time. You tilted your head and crossed her arms. “Right. Curiosity. Sure.” You couldn’t help the smirk curling at your lips. “That what you say to all the girls you spy on in the shower?”

“I didn’t know you were…” Hyunjin gestured wildly at your towel, his cheeks darkening again. “No fins. No… shell armor. Just skin. I think—maybe you were like me.”

You blinked. “You thought I was a mermaid?”

He nodded shyly.

You let out a laugh then light, amused, the tension in your shoulders slipping away. “God. You’re a disaster,” you muttered fondly. “But I get it. You’re new to… all this. Just—next time maybe knock? Or don’t open the door to the sound of running water?”

“Okay,” Hyunjin whispered. Then, with a bit more strength, “Okay. No door. Knock. First.”

“Good,” she smiled, grabbing a long shirt from her dresser and slipping into it over the towel with your back turned. “Now get some rest. You’ve been through a lot, and your wounds are still fresh. You need sleep.”

You turned around again, drying your hair with the towel. That’s when he said it. Softly. Like it had been resting on the edge of his tongue the whole time, unsure whether it should be spoken.

“Beautiful.”

You paused mid-pat. Your arms dropped slightly.

You looked at him.

His head was tilted, his long hair falling across his cheek, still slightly damp. His lips were parted just enough to prove he’d said it on purpose. And those dark, wide eyes still locked on her like you were the most fascinating creature in the entire world.

“I’m… sorry?” you said, a little thrown off her rhythm.

He straightened up a bit, the blanket slipping down his chest. “You are,” he said again, slower this time. “Beautiful.”

There was no stutter. No nervousness. Just sincerity. Your heart did a little stumble in your chest. You blinked again, unsure if you should laugh, thank him, or hide.

“…That’s probably the first compliment I’ve ever gotten from someone who tried to break into my shower.”

Hyunjin’s brows furrowed. “Break?” You giggled and waved it off. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

A beat passed. “You’re not too bad yourself,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to him. But he heard it. And the shy smile that tugged at his lips was brighter than anything you’d seen him wear so far.

“Sleep, merboy,” you said, grabbing a blanket to toss over him. “You’re gonna need all your strength tomorrow.”

He nodded, but his eyes stayed on you just a moment longer before they fluttered shut—content, safe, and still trying to memorize the shape of you.

The soft click of your pen was the only sound filling the room now. You sat at your desk beneath the glow of your small reading lamp, scribbling into your worn leather-bound logbook. Your handwriting flowed like gentle waves as you recounted everything: the field report from earlier that day, the strange movement you’d seen on the shore, and most of all—the merman.

You paused, eyes flicking toward the bed where Hyunjin lay now, blanket pulled loosely around his waist, his breathing deep and even. The soft rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers curled slightly near his face—it all looked so… human. But you’d seen his tail. You’d seen the shimmer of his scales and the way pain bent his body like a broken current.

He wasn’t human. But somehow, he didn’t feel entirely otherworldly either.

You sighed, placing your pen down and closing the log gently with a satisfying thud. You stared at the bed again, then made your quiet decision.

You grabbed a spare pillow and a folded fleece blanket from the closet, spread it out on the floor beside the bed, and slid down into the makeshift sleeping space. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but you didn’t care. He needed the bed more than you did. And somehow, you liked the idea of being close. Close enough to keep watch.

Sleep took you slowly, like the tide, and you drifted off with the faint sound of the ocean still playing in your head.

---

A loud, unfamiliar clink stirred you awake.

Then another—followed by a slosh. Your brows furrowed, lashes fluttering as you pushed the blanket off your face. The light pouring in from the window told you it was early. But something else reminded you you weren’t alone in the room.

Splash.

Y/N sat up immediately. And then blinked.

“…Hyunjin?”

Your voice was rough with sleep, but the sight before you yanked you into full alertness.

The door to your small bathroom was wide open. Inside, the floor was gleaming with droplets, like a trail of spilled moonlight. And in the middle of your bathtub—full, nearly overflowing with water—sat Hyunjin. He was half-submerged, his elbows propped on the edge of the tub, chin resting on his forearm like a lounging sea prince. His hair was wet again, slicked back to reveal his sharp cheekbones and curious gaze, which locked on yours the moment he heard your voice.

And trailing out of the bathtub—spilling onto the tile floor—was his tail.

It shimmered in the light, the scales shifting colors with every ripple of water: deep ocean blue, obsidian black, hints of silvery green. It flicked lazily now and then, the end curling like a question mark, his fin slightly translucent at the edges.

You stared, eyes wide.

“You… turned back?” you whispered, rising slowly to your feet. “How did you—?”

“I woke. Body… ache,” he said in his soft, careful voice. “Needed water.” He gestured to the bathtub with a small, proud smile. “Tub… good. Like sea. Not same. But… good.”

You looked around. He’d figured out the faucet. The floor was wet, sure—but not flooded. He’d used one of your measuring pitchers to balance the temperature—no idea how he got that down. And here he was. Tail out. Glowing like something carved by the sea gods.

Y/N ran a hand through your hair and groaned with a small laugh. “You… literal fish man. You really filled my tub with your sexy dolphin tail.”

He tilted his head. “Sexy… dolphin?”

“Never mind,” you chuckled, rubbing your temples. “Just—next time, ask. Or at least… splash quieter.”

Hyunjin’s laugh was soft but genuine, almost like bubbles rising to the surface.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, grabbing a towel to mop the floor. “Now we’re both going to smell like salt for the next two weeks.”

He watched you as you moved around, his smile warm. When you glanced back at him, his tail gave a little flick of contentment.

“Tub good,” he said again, like it was the highest compliment.

You shook your head, biting back a grin. “I’ll add that to my log. Merman approves of modern plumbing.”

The bathroom was thick with the scent of saltwater, warm mist curling lazily in the air as sunlight spilled through the cracked window. You stood at the threshold, arms folded loosely across your chest, watching the way Hyunjin’s tail stirred the bathwater like it was second nature.

He looked so at peace there. As if the bathtub, as absurdly small as it was, offered him a sliver of his world again—something familiar. Something that didn’t bleed pain.

You leaned your shoulder against the doorframe. “You look… better.”

Hyunjin opened one eye, gaze drifting up to your face. He blinked slowly, lips curling just slightly at the corners. “Water helps.”

You nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek for a second. “Yeah, I figured.”

A pause settled. Not awkward—just thick with thought. You stepped closer and sat on the closed toilet lid, knees brushing the side of the tub. Your voice came quieter this time.

“Hyunjin…”

He tilted his head again, curious. “We have to figure out a way to get you back to the ocean.”

At first, there was no reaction.

Then, slowly, his shoulders tensed. The warm contentment in his gaze flickered, lips parting just slightly in confusion—or hesitation.

“I mean,” you rushed gently, “you can’t stay in my dorm forever. As much as I’m enjoying the company of a bathtub-dwelling sea prince, I don’t think my RA will approve.”

He gave a breath of a laugh, but it was hollow. He dropped his gaze to the water, scales catching in the light. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. The water lapped quietly against the porcelain. When he finally did respond, it was soft. Barely a whisper.

“Not… ready.”

Your heart ached at that.

“Is it because of what happened?” you asked gently, reaching out to rest your hand on the edge of the tub near his own. “Are you scared to go back?”

He looked at your then, really looked eyes dark like the deep, searching for something in your expression. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Struggled with the words.

Then, carefully, he said, “Scared… of alone.”

The silence that followed hit like a wave crashing the shoreline.

You blinked, your chest tightening. You hadn’t expected that. Not from a being who came from an entire world beneath the surface. But now… now he was stranded in yours. And he didn’t want to be alone in either.

“You’re not alone,” you whispered.

He nodded slowly, as if he wanted to believe you. His hand brushed yours, just barely like the kiss of tide on a docked boat. You squeezed it gently. “We’ll find a way to get you back home. Together.” Hyunjin exhaled through his nose, his tail flicking once like a nod of agreement. Then he looked at you again, lips twitching into something soft and shy. But when you glanced up, his expression wasn’t dreamy anymore.

It was far away. Cold. Haunted. You lowered her voice. “Hyunjin?” He blinked once, then slowly met your gaze.

“I remember,” he whispered.

Your heart stumbled in her chest. “You remember what?” He hesitated—like dragging words up from the deep cost him something.

“The cages,” he said softly, and your breath hitched.

He looked down at the water, hands gripping the edges of the tub, knuckles pale. “They came. On boats. Bigger than yours. With hooks that burned. With nets that… screamed.”

You felt your throat close. He wasn’t just recounting—he was reliving.

“They pulled us out. My family… my brothers… We didn’t understand. We tried to speak. They laughed.” His jaw trembled. “They cut us open. Not to eat. Not for anger. Just… to look.”

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, moving closer, your hand brushing his arm gently.

His tail shifted beneath the surface like a restless tide, voice shaking. “They said we were myths. That we shouldn’t exist. But we did. We lived. We danced. We sang under the moon.” He paused, a tremor rushing through his body. “And now… they are gone.”

You sat in silence, the ache in your chest thick and rising. Your fingertips curled into the towel on your lap.

“All of them?” you asked softly. His eyes slowly lifted to yours, endless, broken.

“I’m the last.”

The room went quiet. No ocean, no gulls, no passing footsteps. Just the sound of a tub barely large enough to hold grief this deep. You reached for him. Not out of pity—but reverence. Your hand slid over his, grounding. held him like you weren’t afraid of the saltwater or the sorrow or the truth that he carried in his bones.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, and you meant it with your whole being. “You shouldn’t have to carry that.”

“I don’t want to forget them,” he said.

“Then we won’t let them be forgotten,” you replied, tears burning the edges of your voice. “Tell me everything. Their names. The songs. The dances. I’ll write them all. I’ll remember with you.”

His lips parted, chest rising unevenly. Then, slowly, he gave a tiny nod—his hand tightening over yours.

He didn’t thank her with words. He didn’t need to.

Because when you’re the last echo of an entire people, the quiet presence of someone who sees you… is the loudest mercy of all.

---

The morning had unraveled gently around them, filled with soft conversation and the occasional sound of water lapping against porcelain. Hyunjin had calmed, though shadows still lingered beneath his eyes. You were crouched in front of your closet now, pulling out a simple change of clothes—comfortable sweats and a hoodie that would look oversized even on you, let alone on him.

You placed them on the edge of the bed beside a small plate of fruits and crackers. “This should keep you a little full,” you said, giving him a soft look, “I know you said you weren’t hungry, but… in case your stomach changes its mind.”

Hyunjin was sitting on the bed, towel-dried hair falling messily over his collarbones, legs tucked up to his chest like he still wasn’t quite used to them. His tail had faded with the morning light, and in its place were long, lean limbs that still trembled slightly with every shift of movement. But he was healing. Slowly. Carefully.

“I have to go… just for a few hours,” you murmured, grabbing your ID badge and stuffing it into the front pocket of your hoodie.

He looked up fast, eyes wide and sharp. “Go?” His voice was raspy, like the word didn’t sit right in his throat. “Now?”

You smiled gently, walking over to sit beside him. “I don’t want to, trust me. But if I don’t show up, they’ll come looking. And I really don’t want them knocking on this door and finding you trying to nap in the tub.” He tilted his head, visibly uncomfortable. His fingers flexed at his sides like he didn’t quite know what to say—but his eyes said it all. Stay. Please.

“I’ll be back,” you reassured him, brushing a strand of damp hair behind his ear, “I promise. I just need to clock in, finish some reports, act like I didn’t rescue a literal myth from the shoreline last night, and then I’m yours again. Sound fair?”

He didn’t answer right away, but his shoulders slumped, the tension bleeding out with a quiet exhale. “I don’t… like it.”

Your heart pulled. “I know.”

“Danger,” he murmured, voice low. “Land is… danger.”

“I’ve survived it this long,” you smiled, though it was sad around the edges. “But thank you for caring.”

Then, you stood, walking to your desk to grab a notepad and scribbled something down. Walking back, you handed it to him.

“If anyone knocks—anyone at all—you go into the bathroom, lock the door, and don’t make a sound. There’s a towel in the cabinet and a curtain you can pull over the tub. Got it?”

Hyunjin studied the paper like it was sacred. Then, nodding slowly, he whispered, “Hide.”

“Good boy,” you grinned, ruffling his hair gently. He blushed hard—cheeks blooming red under his damp skin—but he looked pleased.

You leaned down, grabbed a soft knit blanket from the end of the bed, and draped it over his lap. “Just rest. Try on the clothes if you’re comfortable. Explore. Don’t break anything. And don’t open the door, even if someone says my name.”

Hyunjin’s brows furrowed like he wanted to say more—but instead, he reached out slowly and brushed your pinky with his, like he was trying to hold on to you in the smallest way he knew how.

You looked at him, then gently squeezed his hand. “I’ll be back before sunset.”

As you turned to go, bag slung over your shoulder and heart heavy in your chest, you heard him say softly behind you—

“Y/N?”

You turned. “You smell like the ocean.” A faint smile pulled at his lips. “I think that’s why I trust you.”

Your throat went tight. You didn’t know how to respond. So, you slipped out the door, locking it behind you.

---

The sun was sharp overhead, glinting off the glass walls of the Marine Research Center as Y/N swiped her badge through the scanner. The soft beep welcomed her back to the real world—where mythical creatures didn’t exist, and last night’s discovery would’ve landed her in a padded room if she ever breathed a word of it.

She plastered on a neutral smile as she passed the lobby, offering a quick wave to her supervisor, Dr. Malia, who was already deep in conversation with another researcher over a cup of instant coffee.

“Y/N, you’re just in time,” Malia called over, barely glancing up from her tablet. “Need you in Lab 3—readings from yesterday’s dive are showing some unusual activity along the southern ridge.”

Y/N nodded politely, her voice calm. “On it.”

She moved quickly, weaving past teams in wetsuits, interns in scrubs, and walls lined with aquatic maps. But her thoughts were miles away—in a warm dorm room with closed blinds, behind a locked door, where a water-dwelling boy was hopefully still curled up on the bed.

She exhaled through her nose, trying to focus. Inside Lab 3, the familiar hum of machines and the smell of sea salt clung to the air. The monitors flickered with sonar readings and temperature charts, but the moment she saw the movement spikes from the southern ridge, her heart skipped.

That’s where she found him.

The readings pulsed—faint tremors of large movement—but they were irregular, like something had been moving there for a while and suddenly stopped. No wonder the team wanted it flagged. If only they knew.

She sat down at her console, running diagnostics. Her fingers moved, but her mind kept drifting. To Hyunjin's voice, unsure but velvet-smooth. “You good?” a voice asked, breaking through her daze.

She blinked. It was Lani, one of her coworkers, tilting her head curiously as she leaned on the desk beside her. “You seem… somewhere else.”

Y/N forced a soft laugh. “Didn’t sleep much.”

Lani narrowed her eyes teasingly. “Didn’t sleep much or didn’t sleep?”

“Oh my God, not like that,” Y/N scoffed, cheeks warming way too quickly. “I just… got caught up with notes. You know me and my midnight logs.”

“Mm-hmm,” Lani smirked, clearly not buying it. “Well, just don’t die on me before lunch. You owe me ramen.” Y/N waved her off with a small chuckle as the screen lit up again with another pulse. Her heart jumped, but she masked it under a yawn.

She needed to finish up these reports, make an excuse to head back early, and double-check that Hyunjin hadn’t started opening windows or something.

---

The walk back from the Marine Center was a blur. You had shoved your reports into your bag, mumbled something about needing to rest, and practically sprinted the last two blocks to your dorm with a plastic bag swinging at your side—filled with warm rice bowls, fresh fruit, and the kind of seaweed snacks you figured a merman might vibe with. Your key fumbled in the lock for a second—your heart already racing ahead of your hands.

Click.

You swung the door open—

—and the world softened.

There he was. Hyunjin was sprawled lazily across your bed, legs tangled in the sheets, water clinging to the tips of his constantly-damp hair as it curled messily around his face. You’d have to figure out where the heck the water came from. He was hunched over the tiny wooden chess set you kept on your shelf for decoration, eyes narrowed in fascination as he moved a knight and immediately tried to counter it with a bishop—against himself. Like he was having a full-on strategic war solo.

He looked up the moment the door creaked open. His eyes lit up like sunrise on open water.

And then he chirped—a soft, echoing, melodic sound that rippled from his throat and filled the room like a song sung underwater. It was strange and beautiful, rising and falling like a tide, and loud enough to startle you into stillness.

You blinked.

“…What was that?” you asked through a surprised laugh, dropping the bag onto your desk. “Was that—was that a hello?”

Hyunjin’s lips curled into the most angelic, boyish smile as he sat up straighter, fingers still ghosting over a rook. “It means…” He touched his chest, then motioned towards yours, and looked you in the eye. “Warm return.”

Your breath caught. “You mean like... welcome back?” He nodded, then shyly added, “But more.”

You didn’t know what to do with that for a second, heart thudding stupidly hard. “Well… warm return to you too, I guess,” you teased, brushing your hair back and walking over to him. “I brought food.”

Hyunjin tilted his head, sniffing the air like a curious cat. “It smells… green.”

“It’s seaweed,” you grinned. “And rice, and a few other things that won’t kill your stomach. I promise.” He took the bag from your hands slowly, reverently, like it was a gift from a goddess. You handed him chopsticks, and he stared at them like they were mini swords.

You sat beside him, close enough that your shoulders brushed. “So… how was your day, Fish Prince?”

“Strange,” he said after chewing thoughtfully. “The mirror makes my face look upside down if I bend over it. And the blanket trap is warm.” You snorted. “It’s called tucking yourself in. And you’re supposed to sleep under it, not roll into a sushi burrito.”

Hyunjin mimicked “sushi burrito” to himself and giggled behind the rice bowl. Your chest bloomed at the sound.

Once he’d eaten his fill, you leaned back against the headboard, pulling one leg up and chewing your lip.

“I’ve been thinking,” you said softly, eyes flicking to him. “We… we can’t keep you here forever. You need to get back to the ocean. I know where. Quiet, but… it’ll be hard, but I think I can get you there soon. It’s just—people might be watching the coast. We’ll need to be careful.”

Hyunjin’s eyes darkened slightly with understanding. “Return?” he asked, voice gentler.

You nodded. He looked down at his hands, curling his fingers in thought. Then he whispered, “I trust you.”

You reached over and brushed a bit of rice off his cheek. “Then we better make a plan.”

You sat cross-legged on the bed, notepad in hand, your brows furrowed as you sketched out a rough timeline. A coastal tide map was open beside you, and your pencil tapped restlessly against the paper.

“We’ll need to leave before dawn,” you murmured, half to yourself, half to the echo of the plan forming in your head. “Maybe tonight. I can grab wetsuits, maybe—”

You felt it again. That unrelenting gaze. Without even looking up, you sighed through a soft laugh. “Hyunjin… I’ve warned you about staring.” His voice came slow, curious, like he was rolling the words on his tongue. “But you’re… beautiful when you think. Your eyes talk.”

That made you blink up at him. He was sitting at the foot of the bed now, curled in the blanket he refused to let go of, legs drawn up like a question mark, hair falling in soft curtains around his face. His eyes were impossibly focused—on your lips, your cheeks, your very being.

“Humans…” he started slowly, “How do they show… when they love?”

You tilted her head. “Love?”

He nodded, a gentle seriousness washing over his face. “Like… like how I feel when you smile. Or when you came back, and I thought the room had air again.”

You didn’t speak for a second. Your heart was stuttering, and your mouth had gone dry.

“Well…” you said, voice a bit shaky but trying to sound casual. “We hug. We hold hands. We kiss. We say things—sometimes silly, sometimes deep. It depends.”

Hyunjin listened like a student before a sacred text. “And what does a kiss mean?” You looked at him then. Really looked. “It means… I see you. I trust you. It’s… a kind of giving. A promise. Sometimes it’s just fun. Sometimes it’s everything.”

There was a pause. A silence soaked in something heavy and gentle.

Then—

“In my world,” Hyunjin said softly, “We sing in pairs. The song is just for the one we love. It never sounds the same with anyone else. And we dance, too. Not with our feet… but with the way we move through the water together. Like… like we’re breathing in the same rhythm.”

You smiled, heart tightening. “That’s beautiful,” you whispered.

He studied you for another long beat. “Can I… try it?” he asked. “Your way. The human way.”

You blinked, startled. “You… you want to kiss me?” He nodded, slow but sure. “I think I love you,” he said simply. “And I want you to know. I want to speak it in your language.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to tell him that you both were nothing close to a relationship, but your breath caught somewhere in your throat—and he moved forward, leaning in with a hesitancy that felt sacred. Like he was approaching a sunrise.

His fingers brushed your cheek, light as a question. His gaze dipped to your lips.

And then—

He kissed you. You were beginning to think he’d seen other people do this for him to know what to do. A couple by the sea, workers on deck sneaking around. It was soft at first—like he was learning her shape. Testing how their worlds aligned at the edges. His lips were warm, gentle, tasting of salt and curiosity. He lingered for a breath, then another, before pulling back just slightly… and resting his forehead against hers.

You hadn’t moved. Couldn’t move.

He whispered, “Did I do it right?”

You let out a breathless laugh, eyes closing. “You did…it? I guess…”

Your fingers hovered near your lips, the ghost of his kiss still blooming like an aftertaste. Hyunjin was watching you again—his eyes wide, waiting, like he wasn’t sure if he’d crossed a line or unlocked a door. “That was…” you cleared your throat, heart thudding as she tried to find her voice. “Really good for a first time. But um… kissing has a bit of a rhythm to it. Like your songs, remember?”

He tilted his head. “Like a… duet?”

You smiled despite herself. “Exactly.” He leaned forward again, a little too eager, and you giggled, pushing him back gently. “Okay, no pouncing. Let’s take this slow. Follow my lead.”

You shifted closer on the bed, cupping his face softly. His cheeks were so warm under your touch. “When we kiss,” you whispered, “don’t just press in. Feel it. Think of it like… listening with your lips.” He nodded once, completely enthralled. Why were you doing this? You’re teaching a merman how to kiss? Not like he’s going to need it in the future or anything. Your noses brushed, breaths mingling—and then you kissed him again.

This time, it was slower. Softer. Your lips met in a careful rhythm, Hyunjin mimicking your movements like a dancer finally learning the steps. He let out the smallest sound—something between a hum and a purr, low and delicate, and so intimate it sent a shock down your spine.

Your body tensed involuntarily.

That sound. It curled around your spine like heat. It wasn't just affectionate—it was sensual, primal in a way he likely didn’t even understand. You gasped, pulling back suddenly, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

Hyunjin blinked, confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, no—” you laughed nervously, waving your hands, desperate to cool your face and your hormones. “That was… you’re doing great. You’re… a very fast learner.”

He beamed. “So, we kiss more now?”

“Absolutely not!” you squeaked, scrambling for your notepad like it was a lifeline. “We’re gonna focus on the plan, okay? The plan. The whole get-you-back-to-the-ocean thing. Remember that?”

Hyunjin pouted, flopping back onto the mattress, watching you with lidded eyes and a pout that was frankly unfair. You kept your gaze firmly on your scribbles.

“Okay,” you muttered to herself, “tonight tops, avoid the main marine patrol routes, smuggle you through the south dock…”

“I like kissing,” Hyunjin said helpfully behind you.

“Hyunjin,” you warned, voice tight.

“Yes?”

“Please. Let me focus.”

“Okay,” he said sweetly. “But after?”

You buried your face in your hands.

God help you. You were going to need a stronger distraction than a map and a marker.

---

The cold air bit at Y/N’s skin as she tightened her hoodie around her body, footsteps soft against the gravel path leading away from her dorm. Midnight painted everything in shadows and silver light. The marine center’s lab lights were off for the night, save for the emergency glow that hummed faintly near the edges of the supply shed.

Clutching a small bag and her keycard, Y/N glanced over her shoulder once more. Every step away from Hyunjin made her chest tighten, like some part of her knew he was still watching her from that tub, curled in warmth, eyes glowing in moonlight.

She just needed supplies. Just gauze, saline, maybe a blanket or two. Nothing traceable. Nothing suspicious. She’d just swiped her card through the lock when—

“Y/N?”

She flinched like a thief, spinning fast. A flashlight flicked on, landing on her face. Oh crap.

“Layla?” she blurted, blinking against the light.

Layla—a fellow researcher and one of her dorm neighbors—lowered the flashlight, brows raised, dark hair tied up in a sleepy bun. She was in sweatpants and a coat, holding a mug of tea like she’d only just come out for air.

“What are you doing out here? It’s almost 1 AM.”

Y/N froze. Her mind raced. Say something normal. Say something smart.

“Oh! Uh… I forgot I left my sketchbook in the lab,” she lied quickly, offering a sheepish grin. “Needed it for some ideas I had about tide cycles.” Layla tilted her head. “You’re sketching tide cycles? At midnight?” Y/N laughed nervously, cringing internally. “You know me. I get randomly inspired. Couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d be productive.”

There was a long beat. Layla sipped her tea slowly, watching her. “…You okay though? You look kind of… flushed.”

“Flushed?” Y/N swallowed. Was she still red from the kissing? Oh God. “Probably just the chill. I was in bed and didn’t think I’d be out long.”

“Hmm.” Layla nodded, then smiled, yawning. “Well, don’t stay out too long. If Dr. Malia catches you raiding the supply kit again, she’ll have a fit.”

“Noted,” Y/N said, exhaling as her friend turned to head back to the dorm. Y/N waited until she disappeared from sight before slipping into the shed. Her fingers were shaking—part nerves, part adrenaline.

She gathered what she needed in under five minutes: more gauze, protein bars, wet cloths, a heating pad. As she stuffed the supplies into her bag, her heart thrummed like a drumbeat in her ears.

Not from fear. From urgency. Hyunjin needed to go back. And soon.

Because the longer he stayed…the harder it was going to be to let him go.

Y/N’s hand hovered above Hyunjin’s shoulder, hesitant to wake him. He looked peaceful in her bed, for once. The soft light of dawn hadn’t broken yet—only a bluish tint stretched across the room, casting shadows on his long limbs tangled in the blanket. His hair was damp against the pillow, tail gone now, legs stretched awkwardly, human again—but still otherworldly.

She knelt beside him and gently touched his shoulder. “Hyunjin,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Wake up. It’s time.” He stirred immediately, blinking hazily. When he saw her face, something in his gaze shifted—alert now. He sat up, brows furrowing. No questions. He trusted her.

She offered a towel and a pair of her loose marine trousers. “Dry off. You’ll need these,” she murmured, glancing at the door.

Hyunjin obeyed, fumbling with the fabric but managing to wrap the towel around his waist and slide the pants on, even if a bit clumsily. His legs were stronger now, steadier. She helped him with the drawstring, their fingers brushing—brief, electric.

They moved like ghosts through the building—silent, invisible. Y/N led them down the emergency stairwell, the soles of their feet brushing the cold tile, their breaths caught in their throats. Every creak of a door sounded like a shout. She held her breath when they passed the night guard’s office, her hand clutching Hyunjin’s tight.

He looked at her like she was leading him to the stars. Once they hit the back doors, Y/N paused, peering through the narrow glass pane. The coast behind the center was calm, the water like ink under the faintest touch of moonlight.

“Now,” she whispered, and they slipped out.

The small boat was waiting—an old rowboat with a modest engine, one she’d repaired herself last year during maintenance season. Hyunjin stepped into the shallows with careful feet, his balance off but improving. She helped him in, her hands steadying his arms.

He sat on the edge of the bench seat, watching her like she was a miracle in motion. Y/N climbed in behind him, heart thundering, hands quickly working over the ignition. The soft whirr-click of the engine starting filled the air.

They were moving.

The boat glided over the glassy water, away from the shore, away from the dorm, the marine center, the human world—just the two of them under the sliver of a moon. Wind tugged at her hair. Salt kissed her lips. Hyunjin was quiet beside her, eyes wide as he watched the horizon.

Y/N gripped the steering handle, jaw set.

This was it. No turning back now.

The boat rocked gently under the hush of the very early morning sky, the sound of soft waves licking against the sides blending with the distant hum of the world still asleep.

Y/N had steered them just far enough—beyond the line where marine patrols might sweep through, but close enough that she could come up with a believable excuse if someone questioned her presence.

“We’re not far,” she muttered, cutting the engine so they drifted in silence now. “This should be okay, but I still have to think of what I’ll tell them—God, maybe I’ll say I came out to chart the tides or observe plankton migration. No, that sounds stupid—ugh, maybe I can say I dropped something, like a waterproof recorder—do I even own a waterproof recorder?”

She kept talking, eyes darting around, hands nervously adjusting the rope tied to the oar, the bag at her feet, anything to keep from looking at him.

“You have to go now,” she said, finally turning. “We don’t have time, and if they find me out here with you—”

Her voice faltered when her eyes met his.

Hyunjin wasn’t moving. He wasn’t scrambling to dive in, or panicking. He just sat there, elbows resting on his knees, watching her with those impossibly soft eyes—dark, vast, unreadable, like the very ocean they sat on. His gaze held her steady, like he was anchoring her to this moment.

She swallowed hard.

“You have to hurry,” she tried again, forcing the words through the tightness in her throat. She looked away, blinking fast. “Please. Before someone sees.”

But her voice betrayed her—too brittle. Her hand tightened around the edge of the boat, nails digging into the old wood. She couldn’t let herself feel this. They haven’t even spent a week together and she felt like it’d been a year already. It was probably the kiss.

Not now.

Not when he was looking at her like that. Like she was home. Hyunjin tilted his head slightly, the sea breeze playing with the strands of damp hair framing his face. He reached out gently, not touching her yet—just hovering his fingers near hers.

Still, he said nothing.

He didn’t have to. The boat drifted in a hush, the world wrapped in that soft pre-dawn blue that made everything feel suspended in time.

Hyunjin stood barefoot on the edge of the boat, trousers abandoned in a loose heap beside him. His tail shimmered into view under the moonlight—pearlescent blues and silvers catching the glow like he was carved from the ocean itself. Water dripped from his skin, running down the length of his scales in lazy trails, and yet… he hesitated.

He looked back at you.

You stood there, arms crossed like you were trying to hold yourself together, chin tilted up in some desperate attempt at bravery—but your eyes were glassy, your throat tight. What was wrong with you?

“You need to go,” you said softly, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “Now, Hyunjin.”

But you didn’t sound convincing. Not even to yourself. And maybe he sensed it.

Because he didn’t jump. He turned to you fully, sitting on the boat’s edge, and leaned in. His hand cupped your cheek so tenderly it undid the dam you were trying so hard to hold up and before you could even breathe, he kissed you.

It was soft, warm, filled with something far more permanent than either of them had planned for. He pulled back an inch, just enough to see your stunned face.

And then he kissed your again—deeper this time, like he wanted to remember what you tasted like. When you finally pulled apart, you gave a breathless laugh, blinking through the tears brimming in your lashes.

“You’re getting better,” you whispered, brushing your fingers down his jaw. “Every time.”

Your smile faded. “But you seriously have to go now. Before it’s too late.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, to stay just one more second, to soak you in a little longer. Before you could counter your actions, you gently pushed his shoulder.

“Go,” you whispered, voice cracking. “Please.”

He let himself fall backwards into the sea with a graceful splash, tail flicking in one final arc.

You didn’t waste time. She threw a decoy box—full of ocean samples, broken equipment, anything you could gather last minute—into the water. It hit the surface right as a voice called out behind her.

“Y/N? What the hell are you doing out here?” It was your manager.

You snapped your head toward the shore. “Oh—hey! Sorry! I dropped a specimen container during a test dive last night. I came back to look for it before the tide took it.”

The manager frowned, clearly annoyed but unconvinced enough to challenge you. “At this hour?”

You forced a tired laugh. “I couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d get it done now before the boats start moving.” He gave a grumble of approval and walked away without another word. You turned back to the sea, breath caught in her throat.

The surface rippled gently… and there he was. Just beneath the water, Hyunjin’s eyes gleamed in the dark. He looked at her with that same softness from before. One last goodbye.

Then, as if the ocean itself responded to his emotions, he let out a sound—not a word, not a call. Just a song. A pulse of something deep and ancient and mournful that rippled across the water like a shiver.

It hit her like a memory she never had, aching in her chest.

Her tears finally slipped free.

Just a few. But enough.

“Goodbye,” she whispered.

I hope it's okay I'm getting better ideas I promise 🙏

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heesngirl · 2 months ago

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Synopsis : In a city where luxury and danger coexist behind shiny facades, The Sentinel introduces Lee Heeseung, a tactical agent whose life revolves around vigilance, precision and a single priority: protecting the person most important to him. The story kicks off in the midst of a mission that, while seemingly routine, soon reveals itself to be part of something bigger, more tangled and much more personal. Between covert threats, tensions within the team, miscalculations and a briefcase that could change everything, Heeseung faces not only operational risks, but also his own emotional limits. With a narrative that oscillates between suspense, action and a deep bond that is unnamed but felt on every scene, this story marks the beginning of something far more complex than a simple operation: a silent war between the professional and the personal.

Warning : EA/BDG Heeseung x Painter reader. dom! Heeseung, pet names, loss of virginity, oral sex (both), fingering, P in V, unprotected sex, cumshot, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, smut, mdni.

Count : 26k (Part. 1)

The icy wind was a constant on the rooftop, cutting like blades as it engulfed the men in their positions. From that vantage point, Seoul stretched out like a mosaic of moving lights, a potentially hostile terrain under the team's meticulous gaze. Heeseung remained motionless, his body in controlled tension as he scanned the target building through the scope of his sniper rifle.

The communicator frequency remained static for a second before Jake broke the silence.

— System operating stable. CCTV cameras are under control. But, if you ask me, the guy in the orange tie is still my prime suspect, if only for the visual attack. — Sim spoke, even wanting to add some humor to lighten the tension.

— Focus your resources, Jake — Heeseung replied in a low but firm voice. He turned his body slightly, adjusting his rifle to compensate for a wind current that had changed direction. The scope's laser remained fixed on one of the building's upper-level windows. — Prioritize the VIP area where Jongseong is. The threat is more likely concentrated there.

A few meters away, Sunghoon leaned against the edge of the building, his rifle mounted on a tripod for stability.

— Maybe we should start with him. Although the crime here is probably bad taste. — Sunghoon added, following the Australian's lead.

However, Heeseung didn't take his eyes off the scope.

— Sunghoon, focus. South window, level five. Do you see any movement? — Lee's demands made it clear he wasn't in the mood for jokes right now.

Sunghoon adjusted his scope, scanning the indicated area with precision.

_ Negative. Only the service team. Movement patterns match previous reports. No anomalies.

Jake chimed in again, the sound of his fingers typing almost as steady as his voice.

— Section B, levels three and four, checked. No signs of hostile activity. By the way, Chief, how do you feel knowing your lady is under the protection of a rookie?

Heeseung's silence lasted a moment, but it was long enough for Sunghoon to click his tongue softly.

— Come on, Jake. Don't push him. We know he hates delegating his personal security. It's like someone else is carrying his favorite weapon.

Jake chuckled before continuing.

— Favorite weapon? I'd say it's his entire arsenal. Although, Heeseung, I'm told the new bodyguard looks better than you in a suit. I'd start to worry. You could be out of a job.

The sound of Heeseung's lips tightening was almost audible over the line. He adjusted his position, recalibrating the rifle to ensure the wind wouldn't affect the shot's trajectory if necessary.

— Jake, if you keep talking, you'll be my next target.

The communicator filled with muffled laughter until Jongseong's voice cut in earnestly.

— Shut up and keep the channel clear. I'm surrounded by people who would pay to make me disappear, and their chatter isn't helping my concentration.

— Situation report, Jongseong. — Heeseung ordered, returning to his authoritative tone.

— Everything seems calm. Standard behavior pattern. Although there are a couple of guests with unusually calculated movements. They're in the northwest corner of the main hall. However, it could be paranoia. — Jongseong replied, a faint echo of tension in his voice.

— Paranoia is useful. Mark their location and maintain visual distance. — Heeseung indicated, activating his targeting laser and focusing it on the room. The intersection between what he saw in his visor and Jake's heat map gave him complete coverage of the area.

Jake cleared his throat, capturing everyone's attention before speaking.

— I'm setting up a facial recognition scan. Give me a minute.

— You don't have a minute, Heeseung replied with a snarl. He quickly scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of an approaching drone or hostile equipment. — Speed, Jake.

—I've got it, I've got it — Jake began rattling off information. — Man one: Japanese businessman, no suspicious record. Man two: Chinese businessman, history of money laundering, but nothing linking him to terrorist activity.

— Monitor them closely, Heeseung ordered.

Sunghoon raised his head slightly at Lee, his tone heavy with skepticism.

— Are we sure this mission isn't a waste of time?

Heeseung glared at him before answering.

— It's on these "quiet" missions that things tend to go to hell. Stay alert.

The channel returned to silence, except for the soft whirring of electronic equipment and the echo of the wind against the buildings. Heeseung couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. His training had taught that calm was never a good omen.

— Jake, any anomalies in the thermal readings? — he finally asked.

— Negative. Everything is within normal parameters. — Jake replied. His tone, though relaxed, had a slight tremor.

— Something's off... — Heeseung muttered to himself, but his team heard it anyway.

Sunghoon adjusted his posture, straightening slightly.

— Do you have a bad feeling?

— I always do. — Heeseung inhaled deeply, his fingers brushing the rifle's trigger out of sheer habit. It wasn't paranoia, not after so many years in the field. Things were never that simple.

The clock in his mind kept ticking every second. It wasn't just the time spent on the mission. It was the time that kept him away from you.

— Get ready. This isn't going to stay quiet much longer.

The sound of the wind against the building's facade was barely audible through the insulation of the headphones. However, for Heeseung, every detail in the environment was like a silent warning: something was out of place. From his position on the rooftop, the view of the city stretched out like a tapestry of flashing lights, but his attention was fixed on a critical point, a space between the shadows where the pieces on the board began to move.

Jake's voice broke into the channel with an urgency that left no room for doubt:

— Chief, we have activity on the 15th floor. A subject has entered the service area. He's carrying something bulky it looks like a briefcase, but it doesn't fit the standard profile. Metallic material visible around the edges.

Heeseung adjusted the scope of his rifle, the thermal imager highlighting the suspect's silhouette through the building's tinted glass.

— How bulky? It details the movement."

Jake responded instantly, his fingers tapping the keyboard in an almost mechanical rhythm as he processed the data from the monitoring system.

— About 70 centimeters per side, maybe more. He's using both hands to carry it, though the movement is fluid. It doesn't seem heavy, but it's not light either. He entered through corridor 15-B, access restricted according to the plans."

— Behavior pattern? — Heeseung asked, memorizing the coordinates.

— Direct. No hesitation. This guy knows exactly where he's going, — Jake said, his tone now deeper. — He has backup: two subjects in the approach area. They're about 10 meters behind, covering possible entry points.

Before Heeseung could issue an order, Jongseong's voice entered the channel. His tone had an unusual edge of tension.

— I need backup. The two suspects I identified in the VIP area are moving. They're approaching my location. They're not patrolling, boss, they're looking for something... or someone.

The air grew heavier, charged with a palpable threat that vibrated in the frequency of their voices. Heeseung took a deep breath, letting the cold logic of years of training drown out any emotional distractions.

— Jake, continue monitoring the primary target. Sunghoon, maintain cover in the corridor. We can't let these guys act unchallenged. I'm going in. — Heeseung declared, as he began securing the descent harness.

Sunghoon looked up from his visor, though he kept a firm hand on the sniper rifle.

— Just you? — he asked, though he already knew the answer.

— Your position is critical. If anything gets out of hand, I need you to eliminate any threat before it crosses the line.

Sunghoon nodded, returning his attention to the telescopic sight. His tone was calm, but with a hint of concern.

— Understood. Just make sure you don't give them a clear angle

The rappelling gear was cold to the touch as Heeseung adjusted it with meticulous movements. Every buckle, every knot had to be perfect; there was no room for error. Jake, meanwhile, continued feeding the channel with data.

— The target has entered a room not recorded on the official plans. Access is direct from the main corridor. He's manipulating something on the door... Probably an electromagnetic decoder. This guy is no amateur.

— Estimated time to opening? — Heeseung asked, as he secured the rope to the main anchor.

— Depends on the model, but if it's what I think, less than two minutes."

Heeseung cursed under his breath. Time was a resource they didn't have. He glanced at Sunghoon one last time before crossing the edge of the rooftop.

— Cover the area. If anything moves toward the target, neutralize it.

The descent began with a firm tug on the rope. Every meter he fell brought him closer to the heart of the problem, and every second counted like a heartbeat in a countdown he couldn't afford to miss. From above, Sunghoon followed his movements, his rifle adjusted to keep his sights on any emerging threat.

— Jake, give me an update. — Heeseung asked, as he maneuvered to avoid the ventos. The most exposed ends.

— Two side entrances are blocked. The other two suspects are covering the apartment's main exits. Chief, I don't like how this is setting up. It looks like a coordinated move."

— It is," Heeseung replied, his voice as cold as his gaze. He knew an ambush when he saw one.

Finally, his boots made contact with the windowsill. With swift movements, he cut the rope and secured his weapon. The apartment's interior was dark, lit only by the occasional flicker of emergency lights.

— I'm in. Jake, lead the way.

The hum of the electromagnetic decoder echoed around the room like a silent countdown. Heeseung stood by the entrance, his back pressed against the wall, his gaze fixed on the dim lighting that filtered through the crack in the door. His right hand adjusted his grip on the rifle while his left brushed against the knife secured to his thigh. He still didn't know exactly how many enemies were inside, but he knew he couldn't wait any longer.

— Jake, tell me what's behind that door. — he whispered in a subdued voice, his tone tense but still in control.

The sound of incessant typing filled the earpiece before the answer came quickly.

— Two confirmed hostiles. One is manipulating the decoder, the other is covering the door with a weapon. You have about fifteen seconds before it opens.

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, trying to gauge the time with his own breath. He couldn't allow the lock to give way.

— Escape routes?

— The only viable exit is the hallway leading to the service area. But if these guys are here, it's because they have backup on the perimeter. — Sim explained, still typing tirelessly.

Heeseung didn't need any more information. In a single motion, he unclipped a stun grenade from his belt, activated it with a quick twist of the safety catch, and threw it through the crack in the door just as the decoder emitted a final beep.

The blinding flash lit up the room like a flash of lightning, accompanied by a sharp crack that reverberated off the walls. The muffled screams of the enemy confirmed that the blow had worked. He wasted no time. With a firm kick, he knocked down the door and entered, his rifle braced against his shoulder, his eyes already adjusting to the dim lighting.

One of the enemy members staggered, both hands going to his face in an instinctive attempt to regain vision, while the other, still shaken by the blast, tried to raise his weapon. Heeseung didn't give him a chance. He fired a single, accurate shot at the torso, watching the body fall heavily to the floor with nothing more than a ragged gasp.

The second man tried to react upon hearing the shot, but Heeseung moved faster. He crossed the distance in a couple of strides, grabbed him by the jacket, and slammed him violently against the wall, pinning him down with his forearm pressing against his windpipe.

— What's in the briefcase?" he whispered coldly, watching the man struggle in his grasp, his expression tinged with confusion and rage.

The enemy let out a stifled gasp, trying to catch his breath, but instead of responding, he let out a hoarse laugh, an exhalation laced with mockery.

— It's too late."

The radio in his ear emitted a sudden crack before Jake's voice cut in alarmingly.

— Heeseung, we have a problem! I've lost the corridor's signal for seventeen seconds, and now there's a third hostile moving toward the VIP area. It's fast. This is a coordinated movement.

Heeseung's grip tightened for a moment before he released his hold on the enemy, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor. He spun around and hurried out into the hallway, his mind already processing the best way to intercept the threat before it reached Jongseong.

The warm lights of the room, the clinking of glasses, and the cadence of carefree conversation seemed too perfect a setting for the latent tension in the air. Jongseong stood by the table, his expression calm and his posture relaxed, but his gaze was fixed on the two men slowly closing the distance between them.

His hand turned the glass between his fingers with a nonchalant air, as if he didn't sense the presence of the two strangers strategically positioning themselves around him. But he felt it. He knew it.

— I don't like the way they're moving. — he whispered casually, his tone low enough for his communicator to pick up the words without alerting those around him.

— Stay where you are. I'm on my way. — Heeseung's reply came instantly, firm but restrained. Jongseong didn't react; there was no need to.

One of the men finally reached him and raised his glass with a calculated smile, as if it were a simple courtesy.

— Mr. Park, it's good to see you enjoying the evening. —The way he articulated each word left no room for doubt. This wasn't casual conversation.

Jongseong maintained his neutral expression, bringing the glass to his lips before responding with feigned calm.

— I put too much effort into my attire not to. — he murmured lightly, without taking his eyes off the liquid in his glass.

The man inclined his head slightly, his smile barely perceptible.

— Confidence is a dangerous weapon. Sometimes, one small slip of the tongue is enough to make everything fall apart. — the same man pronounced with a certain mysticism. Before Jongseong could reply, the side door of the lounge opened with a loud bang.

The murmur of the guests instantly dissipated, turning into shouts and panicked runs as soon as Heeseung's figure appeared in the doorway, his gait measured but lethal. His gaze scanned the scene with the precision of a predator analyzing its territory, identifying each threat in a matter of seconds.

The first man, still next to Jongseong, slid his hand inside his jacket in an attempt to reach his weapon. He didn't have time to react.

Heeseung crossed the distance in two strides, caught his wrist before he could draw his weapon, and, with a sharp, controlled twist, dislocated his arm with a sickening crunch. Before he could scream, he slammed it against the nearest table, knocking over glasses and plates in a shower of broken glass.

The second man barely managed to take a step back before Jongseong slightly tilted his wrist and spilled the contents of his glass over his face. The reaction was immediate. The burning of the alcohol in his eyes made the man swear, bringing both hands to his face in a reflex action.

It was enough. Heeseung took advantage of the distraction and kicked him in the knee, knocking him face down before immobilizing him with the barrel of his gun pressed against the base of his skull.

— Don't let it show that you're desperate to end this. — Jongseong joked to Heeseung, but he only gave him an indecipherable look before simply going to inspect the area.

The chaos of the operation still permeated the air when the team finally left the building, blending in with the sound of sirens wailing in the distance and the flashing lights of patrol cars illuminating the scene with red and blue flashes. Outside, the criminals were subdued and escorted to special forces vehicles, while the guests were guided to a secure area. The security protocol was deployed with mechanical precision, each unit fulfilling its function efficiently.

Jake, arms crossed and a look of pride that was hard to hide, watched the scene with an air of self-sufficiency before blurting out with obvious satisfaction:

— Well, once again, everything was solved thanks to my impeccable skills. I don't want to say I'm the best, but... well, I really am. — This was typical of him; he was almost always heard saying the same thing at the end of a mission.

Jongseong, who until that moment had only watched silently, slowly turned his head toward him with an arched eyebrow. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and suppressed mockery.

— Your impeccable skills? — he repeated sarcastically, tilting his head in feigned interest. — You mean the part where you claimed the briefcase contained a bomb ready to blow the building to smithereens?

Jake frowned instantly, his smug smile fading a little.

— Yeah, so what? — he retorted defensively, abandoning his previous stance. Jongseong snorted and shook his head before crossing his arms.

— That what was in the briefcase wasn't a bomb — He paused deliberately, savoring the moment before shrugging. — They were containers of a yet-to-be-identified chemical.

Jake blinked, the confidence on his face turning into disbelief.

— No, that's impossible. — the Australian persistently defended himself.

— I'm not saying that. The chemical response team is. — Jongseong gave an amused smile before pointing toward the area where the hazardous materials specialists were handling the contents of the briefcase with safety equipment.

Jake opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't find the words immediately. His expression went from disbelief to frustration in a matter of seconds.

— No... It can't be. The thermal readings and electronic signatures matched those of a high-impact bomb! — Exasperation filled him; he clearly didn't like being wrong, especially when it came to something so important.

— Well, I guess someone made a mistake in their 'flawless analysis.' — Jongseong gave a short, mocking laugh before patting him on the shoulder with mock sympathy.

Jake, clearly offended, turned his head to Heeseung for support, hoping his leader would intervene and back him up. Heeseung was practically his puppet for a while.

— Heeseung, tell them this isn't making any sense. I didn't make a mistake, right? — but the answer never came. Jongseong, noticing the sudden silence, also turned his head in Heeseung's direction, only to be met with… nothing.

—Where the hell is he?—Jongseong muttered, frowning as he scanned the area for Lee.

Jake spun around, looking around with the same expression as someone who had just lost something they were holding a few seconds ago.

— Don't fuck with me… He was here two minutes ago. —Jake assures, continuing to scan the room, but to no avail.

The two exchanged a puzzled look before turning to Sunghoon, who stood with his hands in his pockets, his expression utterly indifferent to the situation.

— Sunghoon, where's Heeseung? — Jongseong called, frowning. But the sniper barely blinked before shrugging, not bothering to show surprise.

— He left as soon as we left the building. — he replied, looking as unfazed as ever.

Jake blinked a few times, clearly unsure whether to laugh or get angry. Jongseong, for his part, ran a hand over his face in exasperation before slowly shaking his head.

Sim, still processing his leader's sudden disappearance, snorted in resignation before blurting out, with a mixture of frustration and amusement : — No doubt... the agent and bodyguard of the year."

And even though it was all over, the feeling that this was just the beginning of something bigger lingered in the air.

The roar of the engine mingled with the night air as the car sped through the streets with almost inhuman precision. Heeseung kept one hand firmly on the wheel, while the other busied himself with disposing of his gear. His bulletproof vest was the first to come off, its weight falling into the backseat with a thud. Without taking his eyes off the road, he hooked his earphones with his index finger and thumb, pulling them off with a sharp motion before dropping them next to his gun on the passenger seat.

Every action was executed with the same precision he had demonstrated moments earlier in the operation. The way he undid the straps of his gear, the way his movements were quick but controlled, spoke of a man accustomed to moving under pressure. But this time it wasn't a chase; there was no enemy on his heels, no threat forcing him to run. His urgency was different, much more visceral.

The speed he was driving was dangerous for anyone without his level of driving skill, but he didn't brake, didn't hesitate even once as he took the turns with a fluidity that defied traffic laws. His gaze was fixed on the road, dark and deserted at this hour, but in his mind, his destination was already clear. He had only one priority.

The car stopped precisely in front of the illuminated building where the event was taking place. The elegant lights decorating the entrance contrasted with the darkness of the night, reflecting off the windshield like intermittent flashes that Heeseung completely ignored. His mind was no longer on the mission he had just completed, nor on the criminals being brought to justice. No, his focus was solely on what was in front of him.

Without wasting a single second, he leaned into the seat and, with practical and precise movements, began to remove the last traces of the operation. He unbuttoned his tactical shirt and slipped his operational uniform jacket over his shoulders, letting it fall into the backseat. His breathing was still controlled, though there was a different urgency in its rhythm than it had been a few minutes ago. It wasn't the stress of combat, nor the tension of a confrontation. It was the need to reclaim his place.

With steady fingers, he took the black silk tie he'd left ready before the mission, knotted it quickly, and tightened it with a sharp tug. His suit jacket was next, sliding over his shoulders with ease, fitting his body as if it had always been there. Finally, with the same meticulous efficiency, he unbuckled his belt and discarded his tactical uniform pants, leaving only the dress pants he wore underneath.

He had planned this from the beginning. No matter how chaotic the mission was or what unforeseen events arose along the way, he had been clear from the beginning that as soon as it was over, this would be his destination. Because there was no force that could make him delegate his task to someone else and feel comfortable doing so.

He wouldn't trust another to protect you. He wasn't going to leave your safety in the hands of a replacement who, in his eyes, would be nothing more than an incompetent, incapable of providing you with the care, protection, and service that only he could offer. Because protecting you was not only his duty, but his right.

He fastened his wristwatch and ran his fingers through his hair, arranging it with the same precision with which he secured a weapon before entering combat. Then, he took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the event. He had wasted enough time, and now, he would resume his position.

As he walked through the doors of the event, he immediately felt the change in atmosphere. Everything about the place radiated luxury and elegance. But what captured everyone's attention most wasn't the expensive outfits or the opulence of the place, but the majestic works that adorned the walls, each one with an air of grandeur that could only be attributed to its creator.

He paused for a moment, allowing himself to observe the paintings on display with a feeling that could only be described as pride. There they were, displayed in the way that best suited them, every stroke, every color reflecting the unmistakable essence of their creator. He knew how much this evening meant to you, how much you had worked for this moment, and although he didn't usually stop to appreciate art with the same intensity as the critics or collectors who murmured in fascination, in that moment, he felt something different. A deep satisfaction that led him to a slight smile.

But his time of admiration was brief. Soon, his focus shifted to what had truly brought him here. With the sharp eyes of someone trained to analyze their surroundings in a matter of seconds, he began to scan the crowd, searching among the faces, among the impeccable dresses and suits, and the golden reflections of the champagne in the glasses raised in a toast.

And then, he found you...

There you were, wrapped in the warm lighting of the hall, your cheeks flushed and an expression that, despite the slight cloudiness in your gaze, retained the same spark that always managed to ignite something inside him. You'd been drinking, there was no doubt about it. He knew well your poor resistance to alcohol, enough to know that that blush wasn't just a product of the festive atmosphere, but of the wine or champagne you'd surely been sipping for a while now.

Without hesitation, he closed the distance between himself and you, ignoring the crowd, the fleeting glances that fell on him when they recognized him, the murmur of other people's conversations that held little interest for him. His attention was fixed on one thing: you.

By the time he reached your side, his hand slid effortlessly to your waist, holding you with a certainty that left no room for hesitation. The feel of your satin dress against his palm was almost hypnotic, but he didn't allow himself to dwell on that detail. Just as confidently, he guided you away from the center of the event, leading you to a more secluded corner, away from prying eyes.

As soon as you had even the slightest shelter from the crowd, you felt the urge to pounce on him, without thinking, without hesitation. He caught you immediately, more by reflex than anything else, and the light laugh that escaped your lips as he steadied you resonated like a direct echo in his chest. His grip remained firm, feeling the warmth of your body against his, the way you leaned in without reservation, with the innocence and boldness of someone not completely sane. Something inside him contracted. Because he knew you. I knew the impeccable composure you usually maintained, the way, even in the most carefree moments, you never completely lost that aura of restraint and elegance. And yet, there you were, giving him a version of yourself you rarely allowed anyone to see.

— You took too long, — your voice sounded sweet, with that syrupy tinge that only alcohol could infuse your words. A slight pout appeared on your lips, as you looked at him with an expression that, if I weren't so used to reading your every nuance, I might have interpreted as genuine reproach. — I came to think I'd really have to spend the whole night escorted by that cheap replacement they assigned me in your absence.

The way you slid your gaze over his face, with those eyes of yours so expressive, so analytical even in the midst of your drunkenness, made his jaw tense slightly. And then you smiled. Not just any smile. A goofball, completely genuine, full of that warmth you rarely displayed with such transparency.

— Although, you know what? — you murmured, leaning a little closer to him, as if sharing a secret. — There's no comparison. You look so much better in a suit than that sad copy they tried to replace you with.

Your comment took him by surprise. Not because of the content itself, but because of the way you said it; without reservation, without any shame. For the first time all night, Heeseung felt a wave of satisfaction run through him, a warmth different from that of the mission, deeper, more personal.

Those words were a kind of relief. It wasn't that he doubted his place, or his role at your side, but Jake's mocking comment about that incompetent man they'd left in charge of your security had been on his mind more than he was willing to admit. Not because he was afraid of losing his job, but because, for the barest of moments, the idea that you might feel safer with someone else had been like a thorn in his side.

But now, with that declaration from you, spoken with complete honesty and without a hint of reserve, the thorn vanished completely. Of course, his job wasn't in jeopardy.

A crooked, barely perceptible smile touched his lips as he reached out and, with an instinctive gesture, brushed away a strand of your hair that had slipped over your cheek. His fingers brushed your skin with the lightness of a caress that wasn't entirely planned, but that he also made no attempt to avoid.

— How many drinks did you have to end up like this? — His tone was low, intimate, with a hint of amusement underlying it. As he asked the question, his thumb briefly brushed the curve of your cheekbone before casually dropping his hand.

Your eyelashes fluttered a couple of times before a satisfied, almost proud smile curved your lips.

— Five. — you said without hesitation, showing your open hand to emphasize the amount, with the confidence of someone who had just achieved a small personal triumph. Then you stared at him, waiting for his reaction. And when the laugh escaped his throat, deep and genuine, you knew you'd got it.

— Only five? — he repeated incredulously, gently shaking his head. — Not even I would feel anything with that amount.

But you weren't him. Your resistance was different, lower, something he'd always found fascinating. Because, in part, he liked seeing you like this, with your cheeks flushed, your eyes shining, and without the filters you usually wore under normal circumstances. He liked this version of you, looser, more transparent. More his.

From one second to the next, you sought more of him. Without warning, you closed the distance, tangling in his embrace with the same ease with which someone clings to something that comforts them. Your body molded to his easily, as if that were your place.

He gave in, because, fuck, how could he not? His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you against his chest a little more firmly, allowing you to feel the solidity of his presence, the warmth his body gave off. His other hand, still tangled in your hair, slowly descended to the curve of your back, guiding you with a gentleness that contrasted with how much he was enjoying having you so close.

— Princess... — his voice lowered a pitch, becoming deeper, more intimate. — Don't you think it's time to leave? Wouldn't you like to rest?

You pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes. And as soon as your pupils met his, there wasn't a second of hesitation in your answer.

— Get me out of here. I have nothing else to do in this place. All those people, the celebration... They've completely consumed me — you exhaled, with a hint of exhaustion you didn't try to hide. You paused for a moment, lightly biting your lip before continuing with the most honest confession of the evening. — The only thing I need now is to be with you. Without interruptions, without appearances to keep up.

He didn't wait any longer, nor did he need any other response. In a single movement, he swept you into his arms with insulting ease, as if you weighed absolutely nothing, as if carrying you like that was the most natural thing in the world.

And without further ado, he made his way through the crowd with firm, determined steps, ignoring any curious glances that might fall upon you. He didn't bother to notify the organizers, the staff, and much less your manager of your departure. He'd handle that detail later, when he could enjoy the shocked expression on that man's face when he realized you'd vanished without warning. For now, his only goal was to get you out of there, and nothing and no one would stand in his way.

【★】

The car glided smoothly to a stop in the parking lot, and as soon as he turned off the engine, he got out without delay. He walked around the vehicle with firm steps and opened the passenger door where you were. Without saying a word, he leaned forward slightly to unbuckle your seatbelt, his fingers briefly brushing the fabric of your dress as he released the latch with a subtle click. His expression was inscrutable, but in the way he helped you sit up, in the way his gaze briefly scanned your face, you could sense a different nuance, something that seemed to be torn between habit and a deeper need to take care of you.

The cool night air brushed your skin as you stepped out of the car, causing you to shudder slightly. You had barely taken a couple of steps outside when, with the same ease with which he held his gun on a mission, he scooped you up in his arms without warning.

— Heeseung! — you exclaimed in a strangled gasp, surprise etched in your voice as your arms instinctively clutched his neck. You looked at him in disbelief, trying to process his sudden action. — Put me down. I can walk on my own. I'm not drunk anymore. — you declared firmly, yet he didn't even slow his pace, carrying you with the same confidence with which he made every decision.

— I know, but I'm doing it because I understand that walking in heels is uncomfortable for you, — he replied calmly, without taking his eyes off the entrance. His tone was so nonchalant, so resolute, that for a moment you were speechless. — Even without you saying it, I know your feet are sore now.

And there it was again, that level of understanding that always disarmed you. You didn't need to tell him when you were tired, when you were uncomfortable, or when you needed support; he just knew. His ability to read you so accurately made a strange, warm, and deeply comforting feeling settle in your chest.

You entered the house amidst a complicit silence. Heeseung didn't stop until he reached the living room, where he placed you with extreme care on the sofa, making sure you were comfortable before separating from you. Then, with the same ease with which he handled any situation, he knelt in front of you and moved his hands to your ankles, unbuckling your heels with patient movements.

— You should take better care of yourself — he murmured in a low tone, barely a reproach. But with that note of tenderness that always seeped into his words when it came to you. — Sometimes I think you're too self-careless.

His firm but careful fingers began to massage the sore area, tracing circles with just the right amount of pressure to relieve the tension. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out an involuntary sigh as the feeling of relief coursed through every fiber of your body. Unable to help it, you leaned slightly toward him, raising a hand to his face, caressing his cheek with a gentle touch, a silent thank you.

His eyes met yours, and in that silent exchange, there was something that transcended words.

— That's why I have you, — you whispered, your voice barely a thread in the stillness of the moment. — You're always there for me, protecting me right and left.

Heeseung held your hand in his, his warm palm covering you with unwavering certainty. He nodded slightly, his pupils reflecting absolute determination.

— I always will be. Don't doubt that I'll be there for you without fail, no matter what it is. — He whispered with conviction, his tone imbued with something deeper, something that hadn't needed to be said out loud for a long time.

The closeness between you narrowed almost instinctively. Your gazes intertwined, your breaths sharing the same space, the tension enveloping you with an almost tangible intensity. Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something, but any words were cut short when he too began to lean in, his face approaching yours slowly, deliberately. Anticipation vibrated in the air, and every passing second seemed to stretch the moment to the limit.

Then the door burst open.

— Oh! Good evening, miss and sir. I didn't know you had arrived. — Mrs. Kim, the housekeeper, exclaimed cheerfully, her voice echoing from the kitchen entrance.

The tension between you dissipated in a blink. Heeseung moved away in a measured movement, while you, with unusual swiftness, sat up straight on the sofa as if nothing had happened. You tried to compose your expression, avoiding at all costs letting your face betray the moment you had almost shared.

— Mrs. Kim, please take the young lady to her room and draw her a bath, — he ordered firmly, without a hint of nervousness in his tone. His self-control remained intact, although there was still something in his gaze that he couldn't quite hide. — And make sure her bed is ready.

The woman nodded with a pleased smile and gently took your arm, guiding you with the familiarity of someone who has played that role countless times. As you stood, you cast one last glance in her direction, meeting those dark eyes that seemed to want to say far more than his mouth allowed at that moment.

— Good night, Hee. — you said quietly, trying to keep your tone neutral, although there was a note of gentleness you couldn't avoid.

— Good night, princess. — he replied, his voice firm but laden with an undertone only you could recognize.

As soon as you disappeared upstairs, silence fell over the house. He stood motionless in the center of the living room, his gaze fixed on the spot where you had vanished. His fingers inside his pockets clenched tightly. He had to leave. It was what he always did. Make sure you were safe and disappear until the next day.

But this time, something was holding him there.

The echo of your voice still vibrated in his mind, the touch of your skin against his hands, the closeness you had almost shared minutes ago. He sighed heavily, shaking off the thought, when suddenly his phone vibrated in his pocket, breaking the stillness of the place. He pulled out the device, and when he saw the name on the screen, his expression hardened. He frowned, his jaw clenching, but he didn't answer. Instead, he swiped to silence the call and put the phone away. That wasn't relevant, not now. Not when his priority lay elsewhere. You were safe. That was all that mattered.

Without wasting any more time, he turned on his heel and left the house, returning to the agent he'd always been.

The vibration of the hallway lights fused with the muffled echo of his footsteps as he moved forward. The coldness of the marble beneath his boots reverberated through the soles, matching the measured rhythm of his breathing. Heeseung's face was impassive, his gaze fixed straight ahead as he moved toward the meeting room, the tension in his shoulders barely perceptible beneath the controlled rigidity of his posture.

He pushed the door open with calculated firmness, the subtle creak of metal cutting through the air. Jake was leaning back in one of the leather chairs, one leg crossed over the other, a lazy smile on his face. Young Mi, sitting on his lap, ran her fingers over Jake's temples with an intimacy that had no place in this setting. Jake's hand rested with brazen familiarity on her thigh.

Heeseung barely frowned before clearing his throat with a dry sound. Young Mi instantly stepped away, while Jake, visibly relaxed, gave her a carefree smile.

— Boss... — Jake tried to compose himself, sitting up slightly in his seat. His crooked smile tried to soften the situation, but the Australian knew perfectly well there was no escaping the weight of that gaze.

Heeseung moved forward to sit opposite them, resting his elbows on the back of the chair with tense calm. The way he crossed his legs and interlaced his fingers on his knee gave the impression of someone relaxed, but Jake knew the signs of an annoyed Hee better than anyone. The air in the room dropped several degrees.

— I didn't think strategy meetings had evolved to... this kind of dynamic. — Heeseung commented with a tone laced with sarcasm, his sharp gaze scanning the space between Jake and Young Mi.

— Well, we all need a little distraction now and then... — Jake let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that betrayed his discomfort.

— Distraction. — Heeseung repeated with a barely perceptible tilt of his head. His tone was neutral, but the charge behind that word was evident.

Jake opened his mouth to try to justify something, perhaps to ease the palpable tension that was beginning to settle in the room; but Heeseung gave him a sharp look that cut off any attempt at a response.

— Where's Jongseong and Sunghoon? — His voice was low, but the authority in it was unmistakable.

— On their way. They won't be long. — Young Mi was the one who answered, with her usual characteristic calm.

Heeseung nodded, shifting his gaze to Jake just as Young Mi stood up to say goodbye. Jake, despite his relaxed facade, couldn't help but follow the woman's gaze as she left the room with calculated elegance.

Once the door closed behind her, Heeseung returned his attention to Jake. The Australian settled into his seat, smiling with a hint of nervousness that he tried to disguise under a mask of confidence.

— Well? — Jake asked in a light tone, though his posture indicated a certain rigidity.

— Since when did you become so indiscreet? — Heeseung looked at him with a calmness that only made the accusation feel more serious.

Jake let out a dry laugh, placing a hand on the back of his head.

— Are you really going to lecture me about this? Because, if memory serves, you're not exactly a model of restraint when it comes to a certain... woman.

— It's not the same. — he defended himself almost automatically, in a sharp tone, his jaw clenched.

Jake let out a low laugh, leaning forward to argue.

— Oh, no? So tell me, what would you do if you finally put aside that pathetic self-restraint and showed your lady what you really wanted from her?

Heeseung remained silent, but the dark glint in his eyes was enough to make the Australian smirk.

— Exactly... — Sim continued, leaning back in his chair with a triumphant air. — But then, you're Lee Heeseung, the perfect guardian. The guy who controls every damn aspect of his life except when it comes to her.

The twitch in Lee's jaw was imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him as well as the man in front of him.

— This isn't the time to discuss this. — Heeseung finally said, his tone cutting.

Jake let out a nasal laugh, narrowing his eyes with a calculating expression. He was ready to continue pushing Heeseung's buttons, but before he could even utter another word, the door hinges creaked again, and that's when the two missing male presences had finally arrived. The underlying tension in the air didn't go unnoticed by both men, surnamed Park, who quickly realized that something had been happening between Sim and Lee.

— So what now? — Sunghoon was the first to speak, his tone laced with that hint of skepticism that seemed to be part of his default character.

Jongseong entered behind him, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets as he swept the room with an analytical gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly as they settled on Heeseung, whose expression still retained that sharp calm only seen after a tense exchange.

— Wow... — Jongseong trailed off with a slow, calculated smile. — We've arrived at a good time, or have we missed something interesting?

Heeseung didn't answer immediately. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes scanning the space with a precision that suggested he was taking in every nuance in the air.

— What happened here? — Sunghoon persisted, his tone light but with a spark of genuine curiosity behind the question.

— Nothing relevant. So let's just focus our attention on whatever Jake has to show us. — Heeseung replied, his curt tone making it clear he had no intention of spilling the beans.

Without wasting any more time, the man Lee had mentioned got going; with a couple of quick gestures, Jake displayed a grainy image on his laptop screen. The figure of an individual in a dark hallway appeared, blurry but clear enough to capture the outlines of a man carrying a briefcase.

— This was captured by one of the security cameras while the system was under the control of the hack. —Jake explained, zooming in to make the figure more visible. It was only for a few seconds, during the sudden crash my system suffered while I was guiding Heeseung through the installation.

— And who's this? — Sunghoon asked, narrowing his eyes as he analyzed the image in front of them.

To which the laptop owner smiled broadly and shot a meaningful glance at Hee, then looked back at the first questioner. He added a key gesture to those glances; pretending to adjust his tie, he made them realize who it was. Sunghoon and Heeseung exchanged glances, understanding exactly what Sim was talking about.

— See, boss? I told you, the guy, beyond his visual assault with that stupid tie, never really gave me a good feeling. And I wasn't wrong. — Jake turned to the oldest of those present.

Who looked genuinely bewildered by such a revelation. He found it hard to believe that what started out as an innocent joke had actually hit the nail on the head. Even Sunghoon, who had also joined in on the joke at the time, seemed confused, but this fact.

— So, technically, it's like this... — the squad leader began, pausing dramatically to try to better connect the dots in his mind. — The first briefcase detected did end up being what was expected. A bomb that, for some reason, ended up in the hands of the guy with the tie. Whereas what we retrieved from that place, along with the criminals involved, was completely different.

Silence reigned once again as everyone present tried to weigh the thoughts in their heads, trying to channel what happened into the most congruent context.

— If the guy took the briefcase with the bomb, apparently deactivated at that point. Whereas the briefcase we managed to take contained the still-unidentified chemical, it only means that it was never really an alibi to blow up the building where the event was taking place. It was an exchange of corrupt goods. — Heeseung deduced skillfully.

— But there's still something that doesn't quite fit here — Jongseong added. — If that was the case, let's say the guy managed to sneak out of the VIP area where I was too, he would have done so at the moment I was trying to evade the two suspects who were after me. But then, how could he have made the exchange? Heeseung, you neutralized the other guys and with that, you got the briefcase that was taken as evidence. — after finishing his contribution, he turned to the others, who were also racking their brains trying to make sense of the whole thing.

It really all seemed to make no sense at all, which made them question whether it was really a mission handled fairly.

— Now that I think about it, and it still doesn't make sense. The entire exchange could have been executed during the seconds Jake was having trouble with the system — Sunghoon added. — Maybe the briefcase with the bomb never arrived at the same place Heeseung entered, but rather it could have been left at some key point, and what Hee intervened in was the subjects receiving their share of the exchange, and we always went after the wrong briefcase.

Everyone turned to look at the sniper, as his assumption didn't sound so far-fetched.

— Jake, didn't Young-Mi happen to bring an interrogation report with her? — Heeseung immediately questioned, to which the aforementioned quickly nodded and took out the document, leaving it on the desk. — Perfect. Jongseong, this is your task, and getting me the details later is a must. Jake, I want you to use your skills to find the identity of the subject who ended up taking the first briefcase. I'll be waiting.

With nothing else to add, he got up from his chair and left the office like a bat out of hell. This variant of the operation—although it might not seem like it—had him on edge. But his mind was also elsewhere, and he was going there.

【★】

The lively laughter of children echoed throughout the room, infecting you in the process. Children could be quite witty at times, which always helped make the outdoor art workshop in the gallery garden less boring for you. Your young apprentices had their own way of standing out, and you firmly believed that their little minds were more volatile and profound than an adult's. Their raw, innocent creativity and their interest in learning from you were incredible.

Until there came those moments when you'd rather everyone remained silent, and the curiosity of their constantly fluctuating little minds didn't get the best of them.

— Noona... — one of the younger ones suddenly alluded to you, to which you responded with a soft hum, letting him know he had your attention despite your gaze fixed on the small canvas in your hands. — Can love be expressed through painting?

The question caught you off guard, firstly because of its depth, despite being the inquiry of a child of only eight years old. Secondly, you knew that coming up with an answer, with the most appropriate words for someone of his age and understanding, would take a little extra effort.

— Love can be expressed in many ways, Jin-Seo — you begin in a simple and concise way, pausing momentarily to encourage the other person's anticipation, and then continuing with the formulation of your answer. — The most common way people express their love is by saying "I love you," because that way they are letting their opposite know that they feel love. But most people affirm that showing love goes beyond just putting it into words. There must also be actions and gestures that support the love you say you feel.

You thought they weren't paying attention to you until you looked up from the canvas and most of the little ones were staring at you intently, especially the one who asked the question. Maybe they were interested in your words, or just mesmerized by the gentle tone of your voice.

— So, with that in mind, consider that love could be expressed through painting. An example of this could be when you're painting and think of someone important, or like when you put something on canvas and want to give it to that person, or for that person to be the first to see it. — You added to your explanation, a kind of self-reflection, since while you were saying each word, there was only one person you could think of.

After a moment, everyone began to converse among themselves, while simultaneously continuing with their artistic activities. What you said earlier seemed to resonate with them; it amused you to see them talking about it, when many of them probably didn't understand anything.

— Someone whose art is abstract and profound also seems to have a mindset driven by the same patterns. — A male voice suddenly sounded behind you, causing you to flinch slightly. There was nothing familiar about that timbre.

Turning around in your position, you saw an expensive-looking man in a tight-fitting suit, his face sporting an expression of apparent delight, though you couldn't easily tell if it was due to your analogy, the children, or some deeper reason. You glanced quickly, searching for the relief bodyguard, who turned out to be out of position. You felt a touch of panic, but tried to approach the situation calmly.

— Excuse me, but this is a restricted area. The public is not allowed to enter unless I so permit. — You spoke firmly, leaving no room for argument. But the man didn't seem to be perturbed by your direct tone.

His smile, barely a subtle curl of his lips, remained intact as his eyes slowly scanned the scene in front of him. The precision with which he analyzed his surroundings alerted you; that kind of attention didn't befit a mere onlooker.

— I'm truly sorry for breaking the rules set by our miss — he said then, his tone laden with calculated difference. — But I couldn't contain my excitement… Nor could I miss the opportunity to see you work up close. It seemed like the closest way to fulfilling every loyal admirer's dream.

The term “loyal admirer” hung in the air, imbued with a weight you couldn't quite place. The way he had said it, with a disturbing mix of sincerity and reverence, sharpened your senses. Your fingers, still holding the paintbrush, twitched slightly as you searched your memory for any clue that might justify those words.

Suddenly, images began to emerge in your mind like a series of fleeting slides: that man's face appearing again and again among the crowds at every event, exhibition, and auction you had participated in. A constant but until now imperceptible presence, camouflaged among the attendees, among the shadows on the periphery, observing you with an insistence that, in retrospect, seemed chilling. And then, a name resonated in your thoughts like a distant but precise echo.

— Kang Hyun-Woo. — you said the name with a mixture of caution and certainty, carefully gauging his reaction.

The guy smiled. Not a casual or merely polite smile, but an expression filled with genuine and profound satisfaction, as if he had just received a long-awaited confirmation.

— It's quite an honor to be recognized. That an artist of your caliber not only remembers my name, but also captures my presence... that far exceeds my expectations. — His voice lowered a pitch, becoming more intimate, sharper.

— I couldn't miss the name of an elite buyer — you replied in a more neutral tone. Trying not to show your growing discomfort caused by his presence. — Although, I must admit, I would never think that a man like you, whose profession is linked to electronic systems and devices, would be an art enthusiast. — you add almost scathingly.

— Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, miss. You’d be surprised to know that art is also one of my passions — Such a statement is accompanied by hand gestures and somewhat exaggerated but measured expressions. It was strange, and even more so when I heard his next comment: — Or at least, I could say that it’s your art that fascinates me. Your pieces are simply exquisite, and each one is better than the last. — His idolization was simply on another level.

— Noona is a great painter. — one of the children suddenly spoke up, innocently intervening in this particular exchange. In fact, the sudden childish contribution brought an even wider smile to Kang's face.

— Right? She's simply the best painter of her generation, if not of all time. — he replied with satisfaction, turning to the little boy, who smiled at him as if nothing had happened.

You watched the scene in silence, thinking of a discreet way to get this guy dragged out and finally disturb the tranquility of your space. You didn't want anything too grotesque and inappropriate to happen in front of the children present. Before you could even begin to realize your thoughts and ideas, your savior arrived.

Heeseung glanced at you, then at the children sitting there painting. He knew he had to be careful with his actions, now that he had an audience of delicate little minds.

— Sir, I will ask you in the most peaceful way to accompany me to the exit. Users who violate the establishment's rules receive a penalty, and that will be your case. — He spoke in a measured voice, although the underlying severity was perceptible.

In a discreet movement, his hand closed around Hyun-Woo's wrist with a calculated pressure, enough to cause a subtle creaking in the joints. The other man's expression instantly tensed, his smile fading as his eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and pain.

— I was just offering my admiration to the lady. I didn't mean to cause any trouble; my intentions are simply to personally pay my compliments to the artist who creates all the paintings hanging in my house. — Kang assured him, his tone forcedly calm, although the rigidity of his jaw and the hostility in his gaze toward Heeseung betrayed his pain and discontent.

Heeseung didn't let go of his wrist. The pressure of his fingers remained calculated, firm but not overtly violent, just enough to remind Hyun-Woo who was in control at the moment. His eyes remained sharp, cold, devoid of any trace of superficial courtesy.

— Admiration... — Heeseung repeated the word with a measured cadence, as if savoring it. — If that's the case, I would recommend that you limit your admiration to galleries, auction catalogs, and your acquisitions. Because if you again take on responsibilities that aren't yours... — He leaned in slightly, enough so that only Hyun-Woo could hear him. — I will make sure that your eyes never again know what it's like to look at one of my lady's works. — The tone was soft, almost intimate, but the implicit threat was unmistakable. The opponent sensed the weight of those words clearly, because his eyes narrowed slightly, and the line of his smile stiffened.

However, without letting him add anything else, Heeseung dragged him toward the exit, leaving you to continue the lessons with your young apprentices.

【★】

Your face lit up with excitement as you looked at the final results of your cute students' paintings. The secondary room of the gallery, designated for the workshop, was full of them, giving it a colorful and pleasant vibe, as they were displayed on the walls of the installation.

— They're getting better and better. — Heeseung comments, as he delights in watching your happy expression. And his delight doubled the moment you turned to him, flashing that wide smile of yours. You looked so proud.

— Yes, they really are. They already know so many more things and techniques than when the workshop started. They're incredible. — you boast proudly, as you walk around the room, eyeing each of your young apprentices' works.

Lee can't take his eyes off you, too entranced by the charm your person radiates, so naturally and effortlessly. Seeing you like this provokes so much in him, and he couldn't help himself, rising from the stool to discreetly approach you from behind. Once close, he leaned down to your level and fixed his gaze on the profile of your face, since you, for one, were too absorbed in those small paintings.

— Being taught by someone incredible can make you incredible too — he murmurs in an almost tender tone, a tone he would only allow himself to use with you. — Don't be so surprised. They're learning from you. It's obvious they'll end up being exceptional in the long run. Although... they'll never surpass their wonderful teacher. And if they do, I'll find a way to change that.

His words make a soft chuckle escape your lips; you couldn't help but find a certain amusement in the way this version of him contrasted so much with what many people see at first glance. The stoic and imposing man, whom many feared, became surprising sweet around you. Yet he still managed to make things more disconcerting when he had the chance, for example, his constant obsession with making you walk on clouds, only to then simply clip your wings, marking the limits of his professionalism.

— What's so funny? — he suddenly asks, looking at you with a frown, a clear manifestation of his confusion at your prolonged amusement.

— The fact that the mouth you use to shower me with praise is the same one that later utters words that break my heart, and also the same one that does nothing to finally meet mine. — you reply, your laughter gradually fading away and leaving your face with a more somber, almost expressionless expression.

You turn slowly, drawn almost instinctively to the source of that familiar, deep tension that usually surrounds you. Your eyes meet his, and the space between you shrinks to nothing. Your breaths mingle in the air that vibrates between you, heavy with something unspoken, something you both feel but that never quite materializes. His gaze, dark and penetrating, bores into yours, as if he could read every thought struggling to break free in your mind. But, as always, there's something holding him back. Something that prevents that line from finally being crossed.

Heeseung straightens with a barely perceptible sigh, his expression transforming into a mixture of resignation and regret. His eyes never leave yours for a second.

— I'm sorry — he murmurs in that deep, controlled voice that nevertheless betrays a hint of vulnerability. — I'm sorry for not being reckless enough to...

His voice trails off, but you understand perfectly what he's trying to say. That impulse to cross the line, to surrender to the inevitable, always clashes with his iron self-control.

— Save those words — you reply, your tone soft, but tinged with a tiredness that comes from the constant repetition of this same cycle. — It's always the same with you, Heeseung. The confusing signals, the words, the boundaries. — you add, taking a step back, intending to get away before that mix of desire and frustration ends up breaking something inside you.

But he reacts before you can. His hand catches your wrist in a swift, precise movement, and suddenly you feel him spin you around and propel you toward one of the tables. A small gasp escapes your lips when your body meets the cold surface, and before you can process it, he slides between your legs, occupying the space left by your labored breathing.

One of his hands rises with deliberate slowness to grasp your wrists and pin them behind your lower back. The other, however, rests on your jaw with a reverence that contradicts the firmness of his grip. His thumb brushes the line of your jaw, and the tension in his gaze is so palpable that you feel trapped in the dark abyss of his eyes.

— What do you mean by mixed signals? — he asks, his tone low and laden with something heavier than simple curiosity. His eyes darken even further when his thumb brushes over your skin in a gesture so intimate it takes your breath away. — Because as far as I know, I've made it very clear that I adore you. That you're my biggest weakness.

The intensity of his words makes your breath hitch and your heart race. But he doesn't pull away. Not this time.

— It's not just words. Words aren't enough if actions don't back them up, Lee Heeseung. — you whisper, your voice barely breaking as memories of the thoughtful response you gave Jin-Seo hours earlier during the workshop flood your mind.

He remains silent, but you can feel the tension in his body intensify. The conflict is evident in the way his eyes scan you, searching for something he perhaps can't even name.

— You're right. I can't go on without using actions to back up my words, can't I? — he asks rhetorically, looking at you with such intensity that it makes your heart flutter. That distinct glint in his gaze generates so much anticipation.

Then, with a slow, calculated movement, you see him lean toward you. His nose brushes yours, and his lips barely touch yours, so close yet so far away. The promise implicit in that touch sends a shiver down your spine. Your breath catches between you, and the moment seems stretched to the limit, on the verge of breaking at any second. But just as the chasm between you is about to close completely, a loud crash interrupts the moment.

Fire alarms and other people's screams echo through the gallery's main hall, scything the air with their piercing, urgent sound. Heeseung jerks away, going to look through the window. You can barely process what just happened as the sound of sirens continues to echo in your ears, marking the abrupt end of a moment that nearly redefined everything, and at the same time the beginning of what could be considered the most heartbreaking catharsis of your life.

— Tell me it's not what I think it is... — you say fearfully, your voice barely above a whisper, as you approach the same window where Heeseung is looking out.

He turns in your direction, his expression indecipherable to the naked eye, and that only seems to disconcert you. Drawing strength from where you didn't know you had it, you push him aside and finally look out the window. The burning glow in the distance is reflected in your gaze, tears flowing as so many years of your life flash before your eyes. Everything that defined you, all your achievements, goals, and dreams come true, were burning.

Your impulsiveness led you to stumble out of the back room, running in the direction where the fire had already spread. People ran desperately toward the emergency exit, while you headed straight for the heart of the fire. Your clouded, thoughtless mind made you see the scene as if it were unfolding in slow motion. The flames rose mercilessly, burning the infrastructure and everything in their path. The smoke alarms continued to blare, along with the terrified screams of the people. All of it became the soundtrack to such a tragedy.

Before you could enter, you felt yourself being pulled forcefully. You didn't bother to look at who it was; you didn't need to, and your brain certainly wasn't at its full capacity to stop and check that it was Heeseung.

— You can't go in there! The structure could collapse at any moment! — he exclaimed, flustered, and dragged you backward, away from the risk zone, pulling your body in the direction of the emergency exit in the garden.

— My paintings… I have to go get them… — your response comes out automatically, which is how your mind was working. Or at least it did until emotions took over and your screams deafened the eardrums of the man holding you. — Let me go, Heeseung! My whole world and life is in there, I have to go get my things! — you shout, abruptly twisting in Lee’s arms, struggling to make him release his firm grip on you and let you go rescue your precious creations.

But he doesn’t budge, and he wasn’t planning on doing so…

— There’s no point in you doing this! — he growls through gritted teeth, resisting your abrupt, almost aggressive movements, trying to neutralize them. — You can paint new paintings, you can acquire new materials and so on. All of those things are replaceable. But you aren’t! I won’t have another you if I let you go all the way there and put your life at risk! So don't ask me to let you go, because I'm not going to. — he declares resolutely, leaving no room for argument.

Without even giving you the chance to insist a little further, he easily lifts you up and throws you over his shoulder to carry you out of that place. As you walk toward the exit, you look around, watching the fire spread even to the secondary room, the same one that housed the creations of your young apprentices, their first steps into art, all those pleasant memories accumulating in your mind at that very moment. And soon, just as Heeseung had predicted, the structure began to collapse, yielding to the intensity of the fire, causing a resounding roar. Thus marking the extinction of that place you had forged with so much effort and taken to the top. It was the end of your world, the death of a part of you that might never be the same again.

【★】

Your gaze remained fixed on the table in front of you, but you weren't really looking at it. The cold metal beneath your fingers seeped into your skin, chilling you to the bone, but even that couldn't shake you out of that lethargic state. The voices around you were only a distant murmur, a background noise that faded before reaching your mind. All that remained was that dense, overwhelming emptiness that gripped your chest like a claw.

The sound of heels clicking firmly against the floor pulled you out of that mental fog. The echo spread through the room like a warning, each step calculated and confident, until the figure of a woman appeared in the doorway. Beautiful, impeccably dressed in a dark suit that accentuated her slender figure. Her hair was tied back with precision, not a single strand out of place. Her presence radiated authority and coldness.

Without saying a word, she pulled a badge from her jacket and placed it on the table, the scrape of plastic against metal breaking the awkward silence. You glanced at it only out of reflex, your eyes sliding over the engraved letters before she spoke.

— Seo Young-Mi. Prosecutor in charge of your case. — Her tone was direct, firm, but not lacking in subtle professional kindness.

You didn't respond. Your gaze had already shifted toward the tinted glass at the side of the room. You knew Heeseung was there. You felt it. That strange warmth that only he could make you feel, even in the midst of a disaster, was there, piercing the chill of the room. You could almost imagine his expression, the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers were probably clutching his own arms to keep from intruding into the room.

Young-Mi settled into the chair opposite you, crossing her legs with innate elegance. She rested her elbows on the table and interlaced her fingers. Her eyes scanned you carefully, reading every microexpression on your face.

— I know this might be difficult... — she began, softening her tone a little more, in an attempt to show some empathy, even if it was professional.

— But I need you to answer a few questions so we can continue the investigation. The interrogation will be recorded. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, you have the right to stop it.

Your hands clenched in your lap. The lump in your throat thickened, making it difficult to breathe. Young-Mi slid a notebook and pen across the table, waiting patiently.

— Let's start from the beginning — she continued, striking a posture that denoted her interest and attention. — What was the first thing you saw when the fire started?

A chill ran down your spine. The image of the fire burst into your mind with painful clarity: the flames devouring the walls, the air saturated with smoke and screams. The suffocating sensation of heat on your skin. The panic. The emptiness.

— It wasn't much... When the fire started, I was busy in the gallery's secondary room. I didn't find out about the fire until it was already well underway and the alarms went off. — you answered effortlessly, your voice coming out weak and ragged. Your breathing became erratic, your shoulders trembled.

Young-Mi didn't press that point further. He just jotted something down in his notebook and moved on to the next question. The rest of the conversation passed in a blurry stream of words and short answers, your mind disconnecting from each sentence as soon as it was spoken. All you really felt was that feeling of being watched through glass.

Finally, Young-Mi closed the notebook and slid it to the side.

— That will suffice for now. Thank you for your cooperation, and I'm sorry for your situation. — she concluded, his professional tone resurfacing. He stood with mechanical elegance, smoothing the wrinkles in his jacket as he headed for the door.

No sooner had he left the room than the door opened again... and this time it was him who entered.

Heeseung crossed the threshold with confident steps, but his expression was thick with tension. His gaze scanned your face, searching for something in your dull eyes that probably wasn't there. Without saying anything, he crouched down in front of you and held your face in his hands, his gentleness contrasting with the strength of his grip.

— Hey, you handled it well, princess. — he murmured in a surprisingly sweet tone, his thumb gently caressing your cheek in an attempt to comfort you.

Your throat tightened. A tremor ran through your lips as you leaned into his touch, letting the warmth of his skin seep into your own coldness. You closed your eyes, resting your cheek on his palm. His touch was the only thing that managed to stabilize the turmoil of internal chaos.

— Get me out of here, please, take me home... — you whispered, your voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

Heeseung took a deep breath. His fingers slid along your jawline, holding you as if he feared you might crumble at any moment.

— There's something I must do first, and then I can take you to rest. Do you think you can wait for me? It won't take too long, I promise. — he replied gently, though his gaze darkened with a mixture of guilt and resolve.

You didn't have the strength to argue, so you simply nodded slightly, your eyes narrowing as he leaned in a little closer and pressed a brief, warm kiss to your forehead.

When he made a move to withdraw, you didn't hesitate. You stood up almost reflexively, your footsteps following his without him having to ask. The door closed behind you with a hollow sound, but you focused only on the figure walking in front of you, his shoulders tense and his gait firm. It didn't matter where he went or what he had to do. In that moment, all you needed was to be near him.

The sound of your footsteps echoed empty in the cold hallways as you followed Heeseung, who walked with a firm, confident stride, as if everything that had happened was just a passing cloud already dissipating in his mind. However, the weight of what he had experienced continued to crush your chest. The images of the fire, the anguish of seeing your world reduced to ashes, remained stuck to your skin, like a ghost. But you couldn't show any of that. He was there, by your side, and all you could do was keep up with him, hoping his presence would soothe some of the pain inside you.

As you reached a particular door, Heeseung stopped without warning, turning to face you. The softness in his gaze didn't go unnoticed, despite the tension surrounding him.

— Please stay here. — he said in a voice that brooked no argument. Though he didn't speak loudly, there was something in his authority that made it clear: you couldn't follow him any further.

However, the way his eyes lingered on yours for a second, as if he were trying to say something without words, made you feel a strange mix of comfort and despair. You nodded wordlessly, as if your strength could no longer rebel. He had always been the one who led the way, the one who took the reins, and though that sometimes frustrated you, in that moment, you needed him.

— I won't be long. — Was the only thing she said before disappearing behind the door with the soft creak of the wood closing. You stood there, staring at the closed door.

It wasn't that you didn't want to wait. It was that you didn't know what else to do with your life, now that everything you'd built seemed to be crumbling around you. You headed to one of the nearby chairs, searching for something to anchor you to the present, even a minimal distraction. Your eyes fell to the floor, to the reflection of the light that slipped through the walls, seeking some solace in your surroundings.

The creaking of heels interrupted your trance, and you looked up to find Young-Mi walking in your direction with calculated elegance. Her bearing wasn't so distant, but there was something in her gait that told you she wasn't a woman you could ask for too much. Somehow, she sat down next to you with a naturalness that surprised you, and before you could react, she was already there, by your side.

— Oh, you're still here. — she pointed out, her voice soft but curious, the weight of the situation not allowing her to change the tone of her question.

You didn't know what to answer, so you just stared at the floor for a moment, not wanting to burden her with your thoughts.

— Yes, I'm waiting for Heeseung. — you murmured, barely able to raise your voice. As if saying her name would lighten something that was worrying you, even for a moment.

Young-Mi, who was watching your movements closely, nodded slowly, unhurriedly, as if she had already expected a similar answer. She didn't pressure you or insist, something that, without knowing why, relaxed you slightly. Instead, she remained there, still, waiting silently.

Shortly after, he broke the silence, with a gentle demeanor and something she might have considered the perfect opportunity to speak.

— I must tell you something, taking advantage of the fact that I finally have the pleasure of seeing you in person, — she began, in the same gentle voice, as if she were opening a window in the middle of a storm. — Heeseung talks a lot about you, about how incredible your art is. He says you're able to convey what others can't, that every brushstroke is filled with emotion, something... unique.

Your eyes, they rose toward her, even though you didn't want to listen. You didn't want someone talking to you about your art, not in this place, not after what had happened. However, Young-Mi continued calmly, unbothered by the silence that enveloped you.

— I visited your gallery once. And I confess that what Heeseung said isn't an exaggeration. Your work has something special. — She paused, observing your face with curiosity, perhaps trying to understand your distance.

At that moment, the pain of loss crept into your chest again, stronger. It wasn't just the fire anymore. It was the disappearance of something that was a part of you. But with the same calm with which she had begun, Young-Mi leaned toward you, as if understanding something beyond words.

— I understand this isn't the best time to talk about it, but I wanted you to know. — she said softly, looking at you with some empathy and a certain regret. To which you simply remained silent.

The lump in your throat was so tight you couldn't speak. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, all you managed to utter was a brief, if somewhat empty, response.

— Thank you — you replied softly, your lips sealed in a forced smile, devoid of any real emotion. Had it been any other circumstance, things would definitely be different. — But... Please, I'd prefer you not talk about the gallery anymore. Not even about that.

Young-Mi nodded, making no further comment, as if she respected you more than you could express. In an act of tacit understanding, she remained silent, giving you the space you needed.

Elsewhere, inside the room, the conversation between Heeseung and Jongseong continued:

— The fire is under control, but the evidence still doesn't seem clear. The teams are still checking, but we have to wait to see what else can be found, — Jongseong commented, pointing at some notes on the table. — Hopefully, we'll be able to better understand what happened once we have Jake to review the recordings from the other side of the location.

— Okay, keep me updated on that. I'll be on the lookout, Lee replied, his tone firm and serious.

— I made sure they prioritized this case. For you… and for her — he added, a hint of respect in his voice. Heeseung looked up, his dark eyes reflecting a glimmer of recognition and gratitude. — Also, here are the details of the past mission and its loose ends, too. — Heeseung stated, extending a document to the major, who took it.

— Thanks, Jong. — Was all he said, but Jongseong understood the true weight behind that word.

Without another word, Heeseung pushed himself away from the table and left the room. His eyes instantly found your figure, sitting next to Young-Mi. The prosecutor spoke in a low voice, but as soon as she saw him leave the room, she stood up with a slight nod and walked into the room from which the other party had emerged.

Your gaze met his, and without needing to say a word, you stood up and approached. He looked at you with that mixture of concern and tenderness that had become so persistent in recent hours, and without hesitation, he touched your cheek with his fingertips.

— Ready to go? — he asked gently, his tone more like a whisper than a question. You just nodded. And when he took your hand, you allowed him to lead you out of that room.

When you truly care about someone, the last thing you want is to experience the pain of seeing them suffer, but... How do you make someone stop suffering like that? That was the question Heeseung had been constantly asking himself over the past few weeks, ever since the day of the fateful fire that took away what you loved most. He's done nothing but divide his responsibilities between his work as an agent and watching you deal with what could be considered the deepest depression he's ever seen you experience. And yes, he's seen you go through many bad times, but this, this was beyond comparison; even he could sense that.

Of course, as your bodyguard, he genuinely cares; after all, ensuring your well-being is his job. But, in his role as the man who so adores your existence, he'd been racking his brain trying to come up with something to help you cope or completely alleviate your current discomfort. But whatever he could come up with, the first step would be to get you out of your room…

Heeseung entered the house with firm but silent steps. The sunlight filtering through the windows filled the entryway with a soft, golden glow, bathing everything around him in a warm glow. His eyes scanned the room, pausing at the foot of the stairs as he looked longingly up to the upper floor. Without wasting a single second, he climbed up there, making his way towards your room.

He carefully opened your door, and just as he expected, upon entering, he found you sleeping soundly. Your cold, dark bedroom somehow radiated the sadness that dwelled within you, the same sadness he'd so frequently witnessed in your eyes these past few days. With light steps, he approached, reached for the nightstand beside your bed, and turned on the small lamp he knew was there. As he did so, it cut through the darkness in the room, and the first thing he saw was your face twist into an expression of disgust, clearly due to the light that suddenly shone directly into your face.

He smiled inwardly, finding your gesture so adorable. Then he simply crouched to the side and reached up to brush away a few strands of hair that had fallen into your face. He also ran his thumb between your eyebrows, gently caressing the area until your frown relaxed and your peaceful expression returned. Seeing you like this, he felt warmth flood his chest and a subtle tingling in his stomach. He liked you so much, there was no doubt about it, he couldn't deny it to himself, not even if he tried.

— Princess, the sun's up. Time to wake up. — His voice echoed in a soft murmur, trying not to be too rude when waking you up. And he succeeded; he saw you open one eye and then close it again.

— So what... am I going to photosynthesize or something? — you replied in a sleepy, deep voice, as you shifted between the sheets, shifting positions, now facing him with your back to him.

Perplexed, he admired your sleeping form for a few seconds; sometimes he forgot how sharp your tongue could be. Choosing not to be defeated, he straightened up to walk to the window and, mentally praying that you wouldn't insult him, he slid the curtains aside, causing the room to fill with the warm light of day.

— Lee Heeseung, close that fucking curtain and let me sleep in peace! — Your annoyed voice echoed in the bedroom, and he could only laugh as he watched you cover yourself from head to toe with the blanket.

— Get up, miss. You've got a busy day ahead of you today — he replied, half-amused and half-firm, reaching over to tug at your blanket. But you were more reluctant, clinging to it and not letting him move it. — Come on, I really have a good day planned for you. Get out of bed. — he added, his tone so insistent it seemed almost like a plea. But even that didn't stop him from struggling with the blanket.

— Let go of the fucking blanket, and I'll get up voluntarily. — you said, finally peeking your head out, giving him an annoyed look. To which he raised an eyebrow at you, not trusting your word.

— How do I know this isn't some trick on your part? — he inquires, momentarily giving up on pulling at the soft material, but not completely letting go.

— First, because I would never refuse a plan with you. Second, because you're stronger than me, and if you keep pulling at this thing, you'll end up taking it off and discovering that my panties are the only thing I'm wearing right now. — you warn, somewhat annoyed. And that last reason was enough for her to finally let go of the blanket without further struggle and walk away.

Obviously, she was upset to hear such a revelation, but she made an effort to act normal and maintain her composure.

— Okay, then... go get ready. I'll wait for you downstairs. — She excused herself somewhat nervously and then simply left the room, giving you some privacy.

【★】

The crunch of gravel under your boots mingled with the dry echo of bullets hitting the targets. The warmth of the sun filtered through the scattered clouds, enveloping the training grounds in an atmosphere filled with tension and constant noise. Gunshots rang through the air, some sharper than others, followed by the metallic crackle of bullets hitting their targets. You walked at a steady pace, but not without casting annoyed glances around, clearly annoyed by the surroundings you found yourself in.

— Really? It wasn't enough for you to force me to get up early, and now I also have to endure this hellish sun? — you muttered, pushing back a strand of hair that the wind had blown across your face.

Heeseung, walking slightly ahead of you, turned his head with a lopsided smile, the one you knew so well and that, unfortunately for you, always managed to disarm you.

— If you keep complaining, I'll make you walk around the training grounds until you forget how to complain. — His tone was light, but his eyes held a hint of mischief that made you frown.

— You wouldn't dare. — you blurted out, with a mixture of disbelief and veiled threat. For his part, Heeseung just laughed softly, a low sound that somehow shook you.

— You think so? — he retorted, tilting his head to one side.

You shot him a dirty look, but before you could continue reproaching him, he raised a hand and pointed toward a farther part of the field, where a covered structure stood.

— Don't worry, you won't be under the sun. Let's go to target practice. — he added simply.

You stopped abruptly, your eyebrows raising in surprise as you turned your head to him.

— Target practice? — you repeated, almost unable to believe it. Heeseung nodded, watching you with that serene yet penetrating expression that always made you feel like he could read your every thought.

— You once said you were curious about what it felt like to shoot a gun," he explained matter-of-factly, as if it were the most casual comment in the world. "I thought this would be a good opportunity.

You continued staring at him, trying to remember when you'd said that. And then you remembered. It had been during a casual conversation, one random night in your living room, while he was cleaning his gun after returning from a mission. You had quietly mentioned that you'd always been curious about that sensation: the weight of the gun in your hands, the vibration of the recoil, the dry sound of the shot breaking the air. It had been a fleeting confession, something you never thought he'd actually take into account.

— How do you still remember that? — you asked, your tone softening without you even realizing it. Heeseung shrugged, shifting his gaze to the field for a second before looking back at you.

— I always listen to you. Even when it's things you say quietly, or details that don't seem important to you, but are to me — he replied with a hint of sincerity that lodged itself in your chest. He paused for a second, his gaze softening. — I can't help it."

You were speechless, feeling a warm surge of emotion lodge itself in your core. But before you could formulate a response, he took a few steps further into the facility, and you had to jog to catch up.

The atmosphere changed as soon as they walked through the door into the shooting range. The sound of gunfire became more subdued, muffled by the thick walls of the structure. Several paper targets were lined up at the end of a long, narrow hallway, pierced by holes of varying sizes. The metallic scent of gunpowder wafted through the air, thick and pungent.

Heeseung approached a table where an arsenal of weapons rested and picked up a sleek, black pistol, along with a pair of protective headphones and goggles. With fluid movements, he picked up the weapon and checked the magazine before extending it to you, offering it to you with a calm but expectant expression.

— Ready to try it? — His tone was gentle, but his eyes sparkled with a hint of anticipation, perhaps excited to see you experience something new, something that wasn't quite your style.

You hesitated for a second, your eyes scanning the polished line of the weapon and then returning to his face. You couldn't help but feel a slight chill run down your spine at the thought of holding a real gun. But when you saw the confidence in the way he looked at you, something inside you settled.

— What if I miss? — you murmured, taking the gun gently, feeling its cold weight in your hands.

Heeseung took a step closer, helping you put on the protective gear, then wrapping his hands around yours to adjust the grip. The warmth of his fingers on your skin made you feel a tingle that spread to the base of your neck. He parted your legs with his foot, straightening your back properly.

— You don't have to get it right away. Just trust me, you'll see you won't get bored. Besides, even I didn't get it right the first time, so no pressure, princess. — he assured calmly, his voice just inches from your ear as he positioned himself behind you to help you calibrate and lock onto the target in front of you.

Only, as expected, the closeness and pressure of his body against yours, his hands on your waist, his warm breath caressing your cheek, and his low, raspy voice— These were enough to make you nervous, so much so that your hands were trembling slightly. And unfortunately for you, Lee noticed.

— If you keep shaking like that, you're definitely not going to hit the shot. — he whispered huskily at the edge of your ear, causing an electric current to travel along your spinal cord.

— Then get out of the way and let me do it on my own. — you replied defensively, trying to hide your nervousness. Heeseung glanced at you and just smiled, giving no indication that he was planning to leave you.

— I'm your bodyguard. I'm literally watching your back to keep you steady in case the force of the shot pushes you back. — His response was accompanied by a readjustment of his grip on your waist. However, you ignored him, simply focusing on the target in front of you, maintaining your position and your gaze fixed forward. — Okay, this is a good position, pull the trigger when you feel ready. — he adds, and no sooner had he finished speaking than the first shot you fired.

The bullet, to the surprise of even the man behind you, actually hit the target. You soon heard a contemplative whistle, and even applause from him.

— I guess it was beginner's luck on my side. — you hasten to comment, hoping to preempt any praise your precious attorney was already thinking of heaping.

— Beginner's luck or not, that was incredible, Princess. It was very natural. Do you want to try it again? — he asks, and with a quick nod you respond, then get into position.

And so it was a second time, and several more times you continued shooting, missing and hitting, but especially enjoying the activity and Heeseung's company. It wasn't something you'd thought you'd enjoy doing, but it was quite therapeutic… somehow, and it helped improve your mood. It was stress-relieving and exciting at the same time. Besides, if there was one thing particularly remarkable about all this, it was seeing Heeseung more open-minded, less stoic and proper.

Eventually, once you'd finished emptying a second cartridge, you began to take off your earmuffs and glasses, handing everything to Heeseung, along with the gun, for him to sort through. You'd had enough; you were even a little tired now that the adrenaline rush was starting to wear off.

— So what next? What else is on the itinerary? — you asked, as you both walked back to the facility's exit.

Then, once you're outside, Heeseung suddenly stops in his tracks and looks at you. There's a slight hint of suggestiveness gleaming in his eyes. That detail doesn't go unnoticed, as does the way he then shifts his attention and gaze toward the rustic training ground not far from you.

— You're going to run ten laps around the field. — His voice and expression, at first glance, reveal apparent seriousness, and after his declaration, he suddenly adopts a firm, almost strict stance. — It's required to unlock the next activi-

Before he could add anything else, you were already running toward the car, dramatically shouting "No," with a prolonged "No," causing the older man to burst out laughing as he watches you struggle to open the door, trying to escape from him and his plan, which was nothing more than a joke. He just wanted to test the waters, see what kind of reaction he'd get from you, and without a doubt, the result was endearing.

【★】

On such a hectic day, which started early, filled with fun activities, delicious food, and moments you'd surely remember forever, the mix of warm orange and red hues was finally beginning to settle in the sky. A few clouds embraced the sun, as if wishing to bid it farewell as it set, the afternoon felt so light. You were tired, yes, but no less happy. You couldn't even remember the last time you'd deviated so abruptly from your routine.

And now you understood why people say it's always good to try and do new things.

Heeseung had put so much effort into it, everything so perfectly planned, from the places you visited, which were one better than the last. You'd never seen beyond the same old streets, you'd missed out on much of the charm of your own city, but thanks to him, that had changed. Besides, the day, although well-planned around you, had also had the opportunity to explore new shades and nuances in the man who dedicated his entire day off to trying to make you feel good and smile again.

During the depressive episode triggered by the loss of the gallery after the fire, you hadn't been aware of how much you'd truly shut down. You'd been so depressed that even making art at home didn't cheer you up. But with this change of scenery, and Heeseung taking matters into his own hands, everything seemed better.

— Are you falling asleep, or why do you suddenly seem so quiet? — His warm voice suddenly cut through the silence inside the car, interrupting your thoughts and recollections of the day. — We're not done yet. I need you with energy for a little longer, okay? — he added, simultaneously patting your thigh gently to wake you up.

The soft noise of the engine filled the silence between you, providing a momentary calm before you decided to say something.

— I'm not one for surprises, and yet here I am, inwardly excited about whatever the man I like so much has prepared to cheer me up. — A soft murmur is your response, as you look out the car window. The city flashed by outside the windows, a blur of light and shadow.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips at your murmur. He knew you didn't like surprises, but he also knew that, deep down, you appreciate the effort and thought that goes into them.

— Just wait and see, okay? I promise you won't regret it. — he stated, casting a fond but brief glance at your facial profile.

After what seemed like a torturous eternity, the car was finally being parked on a sidewalk; Heeseung hurried to get out and walk around the vehicle, going to your side to open the door and carefully help you out of the passenger seat.

— What's this? — you asked almost automatically, confusion surfacing now that you were both standing outside what at first glance appeared to be a well-decorated establishment, with modern designs and structures. Heeseung didn't bother to clarify your growing doubts, just took your hand and led you inside.

The place was divided into two floors: The first floor had a reception area and was a spacious, well-lit facility. You took a thorough look around, scanning the place and seeing how it stirred certain feelings in you.

— Let's go upstairs, that's where the real important part is. — Without giving you a second to react, he was already taking your hand and leading you upstairs to the second floor.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the place was the available space. Then your gaze inevitably fell on the things in that area. It was equipped with tables piled with all kinds of art materials, from canvases to easels, which were clearly new. And the walls were blank, presenting a different kind of canvas. It was like your old studio, maybe bigger.

With tears in your eyes, you turned to look at him. Vulnerability and a host of indescribable emotions radiating in your eyes.

— Please, don't tell me you... — You couldn't even finish your sentence without your voice breaking.

He saw the emotions reflected on his face and how your voice caught in your throat. His heart contracted with happiness and worry at the same time.

— Yes, I did — he admitted softly, leaning closer so he could admire your beautiful eyes up close. — I know everything you lost that day. Your art, your space, your identity as an artist, and- — He couldn't finish either, but in his case, it was because you interrupted him.

— Are you telling me you really bought this place? — you inquire, immediately looking at him with wide eyes, at the same time bringing your hands to your mouth, covering it in excitement and surprise.

He nods, never taking his gaze from yours. He could see the surprise and gratitude in your eyes, and it made his heart swell with affection.

— Yes, that's exactly what I did. I was truly so excited. I wanted to give you a place to call your own again, a space where you could create, be inspired, and heal.

— You shouldn't have done something like that. — you complain, slightly embarrassed, but no less moved and grateful for his empathy and support.

With excitement, you set about exploring the place. The tables with materials. They had the exact brands of paint you'd always used. The brushes and everything else were also from brands and designs you loved so much. And damn, you felt like your heart was going to burst with how fast it was beating, your emotions so intensely on edge, realizing that he'd really put so much care and effort into giving you back what has defined you so much in life and in your artistic career.

He followed you as you explored the space, watching you discover the carefully chosen materials. He knew your preferences down to the smallest detail: the specific brand of paint, the type of brushes you preferred, even the specific texture of the canvas you liked the most.

— You shouldn't be too surprised that I hit the nail on the head — he murmured, suddenly interrupting your exploration and capturing your full attention. He leaned a little closer, his voice low and gentle, adding, — I did a lot of research. I wanted you to feel at home, like in your old studio. Every detail was chosen with you in mind. — He paused momentarily, his eyes searching yours before adding, — I want you to be happy again, here.

— Hey, an art studio isn’t exactly cheap to create, — you reply, embarrassed at the sudden reminder of reality. — I’ll pay you back when I get the chance. — you assert resolutely, but he just laughs softly, shaking his head.

— Don’t even think about it. It’s not a loan, it’s a gift. I have more than enough resources, and seeing you happy and painting again is worth every penny I spent on this place. — he replies, looking at you seriously, trying to emphasize his firmness and refusal to accept anything in return.

A lump suddenly formed in your throat, the feeling of comfort filling you completely, as did a deep appreciation for the other.

— You’re so good to me. — you murmur softly, avoiding his gaze, tears welling up in your eyes.

It was then that Heeseung leaned closer. His finger trailed under your chin with a touch so gentle it made the air thicken between you. He forced your gaze up, and your eyes locked with his, dark and charged with an emotion so raw it almost made your knees weak. His voice, low and drawling, vibrated with an emotional depth that seemed to take even him by surprise.

— You don’t know how much your smile and wholeness mean to me. For once, accept something without arguing or thinking you owe it to someone. — he whispered, and the way his eyes gave you no respite made heat rise up your neck.

The tone of his voice and the intensity in his gaze shot through you like a shock. You felt your lungs gasp for air as, from one second to the next, he lifted you up with alarming ease. Your legs reflexively wrapped around his waist, your arms slid around his neck as his hands held you with a firmness that shook your senses. The way he held you, with that mixture of urgency and need, made something inside you clench.

The rapid beat of his chest vibrated against yours, the heat of his body penetrating the layers of clothing. His breathing, rapid and ragged, brushed your ear as his lips lowered just to the crook of your neck, but didn't quite touch you. His self-control hung by a thread; you felt it in the tension of his muscles, in the way his fingers dug lightly into the skin of your back.

— Thank you for this and for everything you've done or do for me. — you mumbled, your voice breathy and shaky against his ear.

His response was to wrap his arms more tightly around you, burying his face in your neck as he breathed in your scent with a depth that made you shudder. His body visibly relaxed, as if simply holding you like that had broken down the last barriers he'd kept standing. But the way his hands slowly ran down your back, up the line of your spine with almost tortuous precision, made it clear he wasn't completely calm.

— You're wonderful... — you murmured against his cheek as your fingers moved up to his face.

You held his face in your hands and let your thumbs brush over the warm skin of his cheeks. Heeseung closed his eyes for a second, leaning into your touch as if he needed it to keep breathing. When he opened them again, his pupils were dilated, and a dark shadow crossed the depths of his gaze. There was emotion there, something pure, brutal, and blatantly transparent that made you press closer to him.

— Don't look at me like that. — you stammered, feeling the blush spread across your face and the tension growing between you like an electric field.

But he didn't look away. On the contrary, his eyes slid slowly over your face, lingering on the line of your lips, on the trembling of your lips.

The sound of your breathing. His hand moved to your cheek, his thumb tracing a slow, delicate path over the flushed skin of your cheekbone. His smile was faint, almost dangerous.

— Like what? Like I'm looking at the person who means more to me than anything else in this world? — His words were a knife-edge to your chest, each one imbued with devastating conviction.

Your breathing became erratic. Your fingers descended to his neck, and you felt the tension vibrating beneath your touch.

— Please don't say things that make my heart race, only to break it when you decide to return to your usual limits. — you warned him, your voice thick with vulnerability and exhaustion. You didn't want to go through the same old cycle, not this time.

Heeseung slowly shook his head, a dark, intense smile on his lips. He carried you in his arms until you were sitting on the cold surface of a table, his hands resting on either side of your hips, enclosing you between his body and the wood beneath you. He lowered his head until his forehead touched yours, his labored breathing hitting your parted lips.

— What if I told you this isn't one of those times? That no more limits and reality checks. — His voice was a harsh whisper, each word heavy with intent.

— Don't just say it, prove it. — your words came out as a challenge, an attempt to encourage him to move forward, while your eyes were fixed on his.

So, Heeseung didn't hesitate any longer. He closed the distance and his lips crashed against yours in a kiss overflowing with pent-up hunger. The pressure of his mouth was immediate and possessive, his tongue sliding between your lips with a confident, brazen rhythm that stole your breath.

Your response was automatic; Your arms closed tightly around his neck as your fingers tangled in his hair. The way he deepened the kiss, with calculated movements and almost absurd precision, sent a shudder down your stomach and resonated in your belly. A strangled moan escaped your throat as his hands moved down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. He separated his lips from yours, only to trail them down your jawline, leaving a series of open kisses that burned directly into your skin. His tongue traced the outline of your neck, followed by a bite hard enough to leave you trembling.

— I really waited so long for this. — Your breathing was shallow, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your fingers closed in his hair, unconsciously tugging at the strands.

— Too long. — he agreed, his voice vibrating against your skin.

— Are you going to make it up to me? — You gasped, your lips brushing against his as you spoke.

Heeseung laughed against your neck, his deep chuckle sending vibrations straight to your core.

—I'm going to make it up to you for every agonizing moment of holding back. — he stated with unwavering certainty, his hands trailing down the curve of your back to your hips.

His mouth returned to yours, this time with relentless intensity. He kissed you with hunger and need as his hands slid beneath the fabric of your shirt. The way his fingers grazed the bare skin of your back made your body arch toward him, seeking more, needing more.

— Too many clothes~ — he whispered against your mouth, and before you could respond, his hands moved up to undo the barrier of fabric with one precise motion, and with that same expertise, he unclasped your bra, setting it aside, discarded along with your shirt.

The way his eyes slowly scanned the exposed skin made heat shoot through your core.

— And I made sure to dress lightly. — you reply teasingly, your lips curving into a suggestive smile as your eyes bore into his.

— Clever girl. — he murmurs, a spark of approval in his eyes. His fingers skim your waist before sliding to the button of your jeans. With unnerving skill, he unbuttons it and hooks his thumbs into the fabric, pulling with a fluid, confident motion.

He slides the jeans down your hips, his pace slow, almost reverential. His fingers brush your skin on the way down, generating a fiery tingle that makes you catch your breath. But he doesn't rush. He pauses to kneel and slowly unbutton your boots, each touch leaving a trail of heat over your skin. Once your jeans fall to the floor, his eyes scan the image of you in nothing but your panties. His breathing becomes heavy and ragged, while his gaze darkens with need.

— Fuck... — he exhales, his pupils dilated as he devours you with his eyes. — I knew you'd look beautiful, but... this is beyond my wildest dreams.

His husky voice fills the air between you, laden with an adoration that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers trace the curve of your thigh, barely a touch, as he seems to debate whether to continue or surrender to you.

— I'm debating whether to touch you or kneel and worship you because you truly are a goddess... My goddess. — he declares with an intensity that makes you shudder involuntarily, his eyes anchored to yours as a malicious smile curves your lips. The way you smile, as if he owned you completely, only fuels the fire in his gaze.

Without breaking eye contact, you lie down on the table, stretching with a slowness that borders on sensual. The cold wood beneath your back contrasts with the heat burning on your skin. You display yourself before him without a trace of shame, and the gleam in his eyes, darkened by desire, makes you shudder.

He begins to unbutton his shirt. His fingers work with deliberate slowness, revealing every inch of taut, firm skin. In the dim light, you begin to notice the subtle scars that adorn his torso, silent traces of a past filled with battles and danger. They're old, fading with time, but still visible enough to tell stories without words. And somehow, that only makes him more attractive. Every mark, every line on his skin is proof of his strength, his dedication, and the knowledge of everything he's endured awakens in you an even more intense desire.

When the shirt falls to the floor, his breathing is harsh, his chest rising and falling sharply. His hands move down to his belt, but before he can do anything else, you slowly sit up, as if some invisible force is pulling you towards him.

— Wait, I want to help. — you offer, your voice laden with a low, seductive tone.

You approach him and, with a mischievous smile, replace his hands with yours. Your fingers slide over the leather, unbuckling his belt with a sensuality that renders him completely immobile. His breathing becomes heavier, his jaw tense as he watches your every move.

— You're making it difficult to maintain any semblance of gentlemanly behavior. — he whispers, his hands returning to your hips, trapping you in a touch as subtle as it is charged with intent.

— I don't want to seem too innocent... — you murmur softly as your fingers slide down the loop of his jeans, undoing the button with deliberate precision. The zipper slides down slowly, the sound almost imperceptible but encapsulating silent promises. Your eyes remain fixed on his, defiant yet vulnerable. — Not for someone who surely isn't used to delicate women like me.

A hiss escapes his lips as your fingers brush the exposed skin beneath the hem of his jeans. The tension between you feels like an electric current, vibrating in the air. His hand rises to your cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over your lower lip in a slow, reverent caress.

— Delicate? — he repeats, his tone thick with disbelief, his eyes darkening with desire and tenderness.

— It's my way of expressing that this is the first time I've been in a situation like this. — you confess, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you continue to pull down his pants, your hands grazing the contours of his hips as you slide them down his legs.

His eyes soften at your confession, but the spark of desire in them doesn't go out. He helps you remove his pants, standing before you in his boxers, his breathing heavy as his gaze scans every inch of your body with barely contained hunger.

— Princess, I am truly honored to be the one to experience this with you. — His low, husky voice caresses the air between you.

Your breathing quickens as he moves closer, his fingers brushing the skin of your hips, sliding down the waistband of your panties. His closeness clouds your mind, the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you.

— Showing shamelessness will be my way of hiding the fact that I might disappoint you with my lack of experience. — you murmur, your voice cracking slightly under the mixture of nerves and anxiety.

He gently tilts your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. The intensity in his gaze momentarily takes your breath away.

— Impossible... — he firmly denies. — Do you realize how fucking sexy you are right now? Vulnerable and yet totally self-confident — His hands slide agonizingly slowly down your waist, his thumbs caressing the exposed skin with slow strokes. His mouth descends to your neck, leaving a warm kiss before his teeth graze your skin with a light bite that draws an involuntary sigh from you. — And trust me, even if it's your first time, how could you disappoint me, darling? Nerves, inexperience... only make this moment more sincere, more intimate.

His mouth continues lower, tracing a burning path down your neck to your collarbone. His tongue grazes your skin before sucking gently, leaving a warm tingle that spreads throughout your body. Your hands grip his shoulders, your nails digging lightly into his skin as he leaves another soft bite on your collarbone, followed by a wet kiss that makes you gasp.

— I really want to do it with you. — you reaffirm in a shaky whisper, urgency pulsing in every word.

His eyes darken even further, his lips curving into a smile heavy with satisfaction. He leans toward you, brushing his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a deep, demanding kiss. His tongue slides between your lips, exploring with a sensuality that makes you arch toward him, seeking more. His breath mingles with yours, his hands traveling down your back, sliding over the smooth exposed skin, brushing your hair.

— Then let’s do this... — he whispers against your lips, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. — Lie back, and let me show you how good this can be.

He gently guides you back, making you lie down on the table. The cold of the wood contrasts with the scorching heat of his body on yours. His hands travel up your thighs, slowly parting them as his mouth returns to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses that descend dangerously to your tits. His tongue circles your skin, his teeth delicately graze a nipple before sucking, drawing a breathy moan from you.

Your hands find his back, sliding over his tense muscles as he moves down your abdomen, his mouth following the path of his hands. Your panties are at the limit of his fingers, and he looks at you with a mixture of devotion and lust. He took his time, sliding the fabric down your legs in a slow cadence, his touch soft and reverent. He tossed them aside and stepped back for a moment to gaze down at you, completely naked and trusting. His eyes darkened with desire, but he maintained a tender expression.

— You're absolutely beautiful. — More than a compliment, it's a genuine statement. He was fascinated by you and your gorgeous body.

— You flatter me. — you reply, letting out a soft chuckle as you lean up on your elbows so you can look at him. He chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling as he appreciates your modest chuckle. He leans closer again, and his fingers hook through your legs to separate them further.

— There's no flattery involved, these are more than just words — he assured, his fingers tracing tantalizing patterns on the inside of your thighs, causing your skin to prickle and your pussy to ache with need for his touch. — You look stunning this way : open, trusting, and eager. You, in all your splendor, that makes you more beautiful than you could ever imagine. — he affirms, and his caresses become more intense and difficult to bear as he approaches the center of your legs, which throbs eagerly for his attention.

— And soon, I'll be moaning your name, also christening this new art studio. — you add, wanting quell the burning excitement with humor.

Heeseung threw his head back with a deep, genuine laugh at your bold addition, his eyes shining with joy and desire. You never ceased to amaze him.

— Fuck, you're perfect — he moaned, leaning down to place a hot kiss just above your knee, his hand continuing to torture you with slow caresses on your inner thigh. — Do you really think you'll be moaning my name soon?"

— Maybe... — you replied, smiling mischievously. His teasing smile widened at your expression. He knew that smile was dangerous : mischievous yet innocent.

— What if I told you I'm good with my mouth? — He watched your reaction closely, his fingers unconsciously parting your legs further.

— Well, if you're that good a kisser, I have no doubt you'd do wonders using it down there, between my legs. — you respond shamelessly, simultaneously adjusting yourself to rest your feet on the edge of the table and spread yourself even more obscenely for him. His smirk widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Without wasting another second, he kneels between your legs, still grinning, and declares,

— I bet I can make you scream.

— I bet the same. — you reply mockingly, though deep down you tremble with anticipation at the sight of him kneeling, his face between your legs, his warm breath fanning your most intimate area.

Heeseung smirked, aware of the effect he was having on you without even doing much of anything. His hands slid under your thighs, tilting you closer to the reach of his mouth. With the first contact, he took his time, licking and sucking at your folds, striving to learn what made you gasp and squirm. When he found that sweet spot, he zeroed in, his tongue swirling and pressing against your clit almost desperately, causing your hips to buck toward him, seeking more. His lips closed around your swollen bud, sucking hard.

Your breaths became ragged as his hands gripped your hips tightly, making sure to keep you in place as he sucked hungrily on your clit.

— Mmph! Heeseung~ — you moaned softly, pressing your hands to his head, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. Your back arched off the table, and your abdomen tightened as your chest rose and fell rapidly with labored breaths.

For his part, Heeseung let out a satisfied hum, the sound reverberating against your warm core and making you gasp even louder. He loved hearing his name on your lips, and even more so the way your body responded to him. Without any warning, he slid two fingers through your soaked entrance, your warm, bulbous walls welcoming him with a delicious squeeze. Immediately, he began probing your insides, skillfully curling his digits to reach that spot that would make your eyes roll back.

— Oh! Wait... — you whimpered at how right his action was, and how good it felt. But Heeseung didn't stop. Understanding perfectly well that he really shouldn't stop; it was a normal reaction to the unexpected intrusion of his fingers into your sensitive pussy.

He pushed his fingers deeper, parting them slightly, scissoring them to stretch you. He captured your clit between his lips once more, sucking gently as his fingers worked their magic inside you.

— Babe? — he alluded suddenly, his eyes searching yours, wanting to make sure everything was in perfect order with you.

— I'm fine. Don't stop~ — you replied between moans. To which Lee groaned softly, loving your simple response.

He added another finger, stretching you further, preparing and stimulating your sex as much as necessary. He could feel the muscles in your thighs tense, your moans grow louder, and your entire body begin to shake and writhe involuntarily on the table. He knew you were about to break. That's why he grew excited and twisted his fingers inside you more insistently, pressing on that spot that reduced you to a wet, trembling mess.

He looked up and witnessed the way your face contorted with pure pleasure, your eyes rolling back, your lips parted, letting out your sweet moans and noises, and those cheeks flushed with excitement more than shyness. He was fascinated by every tiny detail of you as you were sexually pleasured. He wanted more of that, more of you, he wanted to take you to the edge, make you succumb to him.

And he did it, he got what he wanted, the moment you couldn't hold back, and you came undone on his fingers and in his mouth. Your moans echoed clearly. He felt your orgasm overflowing, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you came undone. He moaned against you, savoring your pleasure before slowly pulling his fingers out and giving you one last lick on your clit.

With some care, he straightens and hovers over your small body lying on the table, still convulsing from the aftershocks of your orgasm. His hand lovingly caresses your face. His thumb runs over your flushed cheek as he watches you come down from your high. A satisfied smile touches his lips, knowing he's the reason for that dazed expression. He leans down and kisses you on the lips, hindering your attempt to catch your breath.

— Is my precious lady okay? — he asks as soon as he finishes kissing you. His voice is soothing and genuinely concerned for you.

— Don't worry, I'm okay. That was amazing, really good. — you reply breathlessly, still struggling to catch your breath, but there's a note of pleasure underneath.

A spark of pride lights his eyes at the sound of you, and the arc of his smile widens slightly. His gaze descends with deliberate slowness, tracing the contours of your naked body with a palpable desire that makes your skin prickle under his scrutiny. His hands still frame your face, but the heat of his palms seems to penetrate deeper, igniting something still burning inside you.

— I'm glad you liked it, baby. — he whispers with satisfaction.

The tension in the air thickens as you reach for him, sliding them over the skin of his abdomen to the beginning of his boxers. A strangled gasp escapes his lips when you hook your fingers in the elastic waistband, and his breath catches. The intensity in his gaze deepens, darkening with a desire that seems to consume the air between you.

He steps back slightly and allows you to pull the garment down, without resistance. His erect member springs free and stands against his abdomen.

— It’s your turn… — you declare with a softness laden with intent, your fingers tracing a lazy path up his hip. He looks up at you as you cup his erection in your hand and stroke it gently.

His chest expands with a heavy inhale as your fingers close around his thickness, and the way you position yourself on the edge of the table, lying sideways, while you move your hand up and down his penis. He tangles his fingers in your hair as you stroke him, and a moan escapes his throat. The sight of you completely naked and touching him is almost unbearable; he could burst and spill just looking at you.

— Am I doing this right? — you ask, looking up at him with bright eyes, full of excitement and innocence, causing his own eyes to soften at your question, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

— You're perfect... — he assures without hesitation, and lowers his hand to yours on his member, showing you the perfect rhythm and pressure, the thing that drives him the most crazy. — Just like that. Fuck, you're good at this.

You suddenly see his free hand slide with delicious delicacy between your legs and his fingers caress the wet lips of your pussy, still sensitive from the orgasm he made you have with his mouth. Meanwhile, you continue pumping his length.

— Hey, you're supposed to be the one receiving now. — you chide, giving him a reproachful look, and he chuckles, his fingers stroking your folds possessively.

— Shh~ I'm enjoying it. — he mumbles. His hips buck slightly against your hand, almost fucking your fist. He feels him getting close, but he also wants you to squirm for him.

In the blink of an eye, you find yourself moaning; his fingers plunged in again without reservation, bursting into your pussy, caressing your walls, feeling them clench just like before. But he wasn't the only one doing more. In an unexpected move, you took his cock into your mouth, taking what you could, relaxing your jaw to accommodate him properly, at the same time parting your legs so he could better insert his fingers while you sucked him off.

His eyes widened in surprise and pleasure the instant you took him into your mouth, your wet, warm heat enveloping him completely. He let out a throaty moan, and his fingers thrust in and out at a steady, merciless pace, fervently rubbing against your walls, feeling them tighten and throb.

This was better than anything he'd ever experienced. Which led him to declare :

— You're going to be the death of me, I'm taking it for granted."

But your simple response was to moan around his cock, sucking more eagerly with each passing second, enjoying his reactions, the kinky wet sounds, and at the same time, how his fingers so expertly fuck your pussy. Heeseung stares at you with devotion as you suck him off relentlessly, his fingers sinking deeper into your heat, reaching that point that makes you choke around his member. He's never seen anything sexier in his entire life. Or maybe it was the effect produced by the simple fact that it was you. And, as if seeking to end his sanity, you tilt your head off the table, trying to take more of him into your mouth.

You seemed to like this much more than either of you could have expected.

His cock throbs against your tongue as you take him deeper, almost gagging, completely ignoring any gagging. Leaving him amazed by your enthusiasm and skill. With a moan, he curls his fingers inside you, precisely caressing that magical spot that makes your whole body shudder.

— Princess, you're going to make me cum... — he growls through gritted teeth.

You pull out of your mouth for a moment, just to catch your breath, but you don't stop servicing him with your hand, running your hands up and down the hot, saliva-covered skin. Your lips feel swollen and wet, but moaning while he continues to make you see stars with his fingers distracts you. Heeseung looks at you, his face flushed, his lips swollen, his hand moving rapidly over his length. He can't hold back any longer.

— Cum with me. — he demands between heavy exhales, and simultaneously, his fingers speed up the pace inside you, thrusting in and out relentlessly, making you moan loudly. But you take him back into your mouth, sucking the tip steadily while you continue to move your hand along the rest of his length.

He rolls his eyes as you take him again, your hand and mouth in perfect harmony. He feels his release creeping in, his balls tightening. He lets out a strangled cry as he feels you suck harder and your tongue swirl around the tip. And just like that, your body convulses once more, consumed by ecstasy, and you cum on his fingers as he spills into your mouth, his hot, salty semen filling you and running down your throat.

He's never experienced an ejaculation so intense, so satisfying. He keeps thrusting his fingers into you through the orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until you're a quivering, panting mess on the table.

— Fuck, that was… — He’s unable to finish the sentence, his voice cut off by a heavy gasp, caused by the intense aftershocks that ravage your body.

For your part, you move away from his penis and lie back, tired and exhausted, on the table. Lee is about to make sure you’re okay, but, to both of your misfortunes, his cell phone rings, and you both sigh in frustration. However, he picks up the device and turns it off, completely ignoring the unwelcome call, his attention focused solely on you. No one was going to ruin his perfect moment.

He gently removes his fingers and brings them to his mouth to clean them with his tongue, once again delighting in the exquisiteness of your warm essence. He watches you lie there, exhausted and satisfied. A smile spreads across his lips as he realizes how intense it was.

— Are you okay, baby girl? — he questions, looking at you closely, studying you, wanting to assure you that only pleasure and comfort were what you were feeling. And luckily, your answer reassured him.

— I can assure you, I'm more than fine — you reply in a soft, smiling voice. You hear him sigh with satisfaction, and his thumb gently strokes your hipbone, in a gesture that is both tender and possessive. — How are you?

— I'm fucking great, princess. I've never felt anything like this — he admits in a voice somewhere between astonished and satisfied; he really does seem so happy. — You're incredible, did you know that? — he adds in a tone full of admiration.

—I'm glad I did well. — you reply, smiling proudly at yourself. To which Heeseung laughs softly and leans in to place a soft kiss on your forehead, then another on your nose, and finally a longer one on your lips.

— You were more than 'well'. You blew my mind — he replies after breaking away from the kiss. His hand slides from your hip to your waist, holding you firmly. — But... — Suddenly, he drags you to the edge of the table and spreads your legs, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. He can't get enough of you, and it doesn't look like he's going to anytime soon. — I can't just let you lie there looking so sexy and not do something about it. — he states in a low, husky voice, causing you to shudder.

— Oh, that wouldn't be acceptable, would it? — you respond playfully, playing along. The older man smiles mischievously, his hands running down your legs to the inside of your thighs.

— No, it wouldn't be. After all, my job is to protect you. And right now, I need to protect you from being neglected. — He positions himself between your legs and opens them wider, making the necessary space for himself, as he takes his member in his hand and strokes its tip against your sensitive clit, moving down your wet slit, collecting your juices, before repeating the motion a few times.

He watches your expression closely as he strokes your pussy with his tip, his eyes dark with desire and something softer, almost gentle. He knows he's about to pluck the petals of your innocence, and despite his dominant nature, he wants this moment to be special for you.

— I want your eyes on me, gorgeous. — More than a request, it's really a command, laced with his need to capture your expression the moment he finally goes further.

He watches the way you sit almost upright and bring your hands to his back, your delicate fingers digging into his skin, clinging to his body. He leans closer to you, wrapping his free arm around your waist to support you. He continues stroking your clit with his glans, spreading your wetness and increasing your anticipation. He catches you with his gaze, his eyes boring into yours.

— You're mine now, okay? This changes everything. — His voice is deep, filled with a mixture of possessiveness and vulnerability.

— I've always been yours. — you gasp softly, and his eyes soften at your words, a surge of emotion mingling with his arousal.

He leans down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, trying to keep you distracted as he finally fits himself against your wet entrance. His tip presses against you with eager insistence, slowly beginning to push in, until, with a gentle but firm push, he pierces your hymen, eliciting a stifled cry from both of you. The sensation of encasing himself in your tight heat makes him see stars too, but he struggles to hold back a little.

— It's okay, it's okay, babe. I know it hurts, but you'll feel amazing soon... — Still against your mouth, he whispers those reassuring words, one hand stroking your hair while the other grips your hips tightly. He begins to move slowly, giving your body time to adjust to his size.

— Heeseung~ — you moan, deeply enraptured as he goes deeper and deeper, deliciously filling and stretching your tight pussy. His control almost breaks at the sound of your moans mixed with his name.

One of his hands moves to your ass, squeezing it possessively, tilting your hips to get a deeper angle. His hips thrust gently but firmly, his swollen member sliding in and out of you in unnecessary movements. He watches in fascination as you lie back again, arching your back and spreading your legs wider to better fit him. He uses that moment to push himself deeper between them and, holding them, wraps them around his waist. He slides an arm under your back, holding you and allowing you to arch fully.

— Look at us, look how well you take me, princess. — he pants, keeping his gaze down between your legs, watching his cock fill you.

— I'm liking taking you~ — you moan softly, your voice slipping like a hot whisper in the air.

After listening to you, he begins to move more deliberately, each thrust measured but intense, searching for the perfect rhythm to make you enjoy yourself. One hand moves between your thighs, searching for your clit with skillful fingers. The contact makes your body shudder, and your moans become more frequent.

— Can you hold out longer, baby? — he asks, his voice low and raspy, as he gently rubs around your sensitive bud, continuing to thrust. His hot breath glides over your skin, making you feel like you're on fire inside.

— Yes, love. Yes, I can. — you respond ecstatically, oblivious to shyness, as your body arches toward him, seeking more contact, more pressure. Your voice is a desperate whisper, a call for him to take you further, deeper.

However, hearing you call him "love" triggers a excitement is on the edge, and his movements become frantic, more intense.

— Say it again... — he demands, his voice muffled against your breasts, as his tongue glides over one of your hardened peaks, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He begins to thrust faster, deeper, hitting spots inside you that make you moan and feel like you're about to fall apart.

— It can't be that you like a simple nickname so much. — You giggle lightly between moans, as your body moves to the rhythm of his thrusts. Your hands clutch at his back, searching for something to hold on to. Heeseung laughs breathlessly, his breath hot against your chest.

— It's not just a nickname when you say it — He lifts his head to look into your eyes, his hips never stopping their rhythmic movements, as his hand slides over your skin, searching for sensitive spots, seeking to make you feel alive. — You calling me 'love' makes me feel like you're giving me something precious.

— Well, I'm giving you all of me, love... — you murmur thoughtfully, as your body surrenders to him, as your soul opens, offering itself. Your voice is a desperate whisper, a call for him to take you, to make you his completely.

His breath catches at your words, emotion overwhelms his lust for a moment, and his movements stop. Then, he kisses you deeply, desperately, pouring all his feelings into the kiss, as his tongue slides over yours, his teeth capture your lower lip in a sweet bite that makes you gasp. When he pulls back, he looks at you, his eyes intense, full of emotion.

— Then I'm very lucky, because you're the most precious thing anyone has ever given me. — His voice is gentle, a murmur of gratitude, of love.

— Come here. — you gasp, taking his face in your hands and pulling him in for a kiss, to feel his warmth. Your mouth opens and his tongue slides inside.

He lifts you slightly, both hands on your hips, moving them off the table to change the angle, and his cock hits a spot inside you that almost makes you scream into his mouth. The air escapes your lungs in a ragged gasp, and your legs tense around his waist, trying to keep him inside you.

You look into his eyes, your pupils dilated, filled with adoration and mutual desire. You keep your hand on his face, caressing his cheek, while you moan at his precise, deep penetrations. His gaze is like a magnet, attracting yours, and you feel lost in the abyss of his eyes. His lips curve into a smile, and his tongue comes out to lick your lips, as if he's savoring their taste.

— You look at me as if I'm the only thing you see. —He whispers, his voice husky with arousal.

— And you are. —You gasp softly in reply, your words like a trigger that breaks his control.

He starts moving faster, harder, his hips slamming into yours. The table creaks beneath you, but he doesn't slow down. He loses himself in your eyes, in the feeling of your pussy surrounding him, in the sound of your voice. His breathing is ragged, and his chest rises and falls rapidly.

— Heeseung… — His name amid your moans echoes throughout the room, as do the sounds of skin against skin with each thrust.

Your voice is like a chant, a hymn to the passion that consumes you, as he continues hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The sensation is like a tsunami, a wave of pleasure that drags you toward the abyss.

— Louder… — he growls, his hands squeezing your thighs, spreading them as far as he can, and his cock drives deeper into you. You feel like you’re being torn apart by passion, like your body is being consumed by the intensity surrounding them. — Say my name again.

— Ah! Heeseung! — you whimper, your voice like a scream of release that echoes through the spacious studio. The orgasm is searing. But he doesn’t stop, he keeps moving, keeps driving his member into you, relentlessly.

He watches your face contort with pleasure, your mouth open in a silent scream. He sees your chest rise and fall rapidly, hears your soft moans. But instead of slowing down, he goes faster, penetrating you mercilessly. He wants another, another cry of ecstasy, another orgasm. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it in firm but gentle circles, trying to coax all the pleasure he can from your body.

— Hee~ — you whine pitifully, due to the overstimulation. He smiles devilishly, knowing exactly what those moans mean, but still continues his rhythm.

— One more, baby. Give me one more. You can take it... I know it. — He pants, sweat dripping from his forehead. His voice is like a challenge to your resistance.

— But I want you to cum too. — Your voice is almost a whisper. You really want him to release himself, to let himself go completely and lose himself in the abyss of lust where they're suspended.

His eyes nearly roll back at your words, as a wave of desire overwhelms him and drags him closer to the shore. He bites his lower lip, fighting to contain his own ejaculation, the throbbing desire that threatens to spill over.

— Not until you do it again. — he growls, his jaw clenched, his voice deep and thick with need. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, feeling your body tremble beneath his touch.

— Then cum with me. — you beg, your moans intertwining with the urgency of your words.

His eyes darken with intense desire, and he nods, unable to resist your plea. He adjusts the angle slightly, relentlessly hitting that perfect spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

— Let's cum together, my princess. — he growls with a possessive tone, his movements becoming more urgent, primal, as if each thrust demands your total surrender.

You moan loudly once more, tightening your legs around his waist, digging your fingers into his forearms, feeling the strength of his body against yours. At the sound of his name on your lips, he loses control completely. With a loud grunt, he buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent, and his entire body tenses as he reaches climax. He feels another orgasm wash over you, your throbbing walls enveloping him, triggering his own release.

He swallows your screams, his lips devouring yours in a deep, ravenous kiss. Your bodies convulse against each other, his hot seed filling your insides, as a soft groan escapes his lips, another wave of pleasure hits him, and your inner muscles squeeze him dry. He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, watching as you crumble again, lost in euphoria.

— I love you~ — you gasp softly, a surge of vulnerability floating in the air. Your confession seems to stop time. His eyes, dark and deep, bore into yours with overwhelming intensity, filled with wonder and adoration.

Something in him shudders, as if your words have pierced every layer of his being, reaching a place no one else has ever touched before. His body still trembles with the aftershocks of his relentless passion, and yet it's your declaration that truly takes his breath away. Slowly, a smile spreads across his face, the most beautiful and genuine you've ever seen. But the silence between you lengthens, and uncertainty begins to settle in your chest.

— Why aren't you answering? — you ask in a whisper, the echo of your fear resonating between you both.

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, his fingers find your face with infinite tenderness, his thumbs gently wiping away the sweat and tears of pleasure gathering at the corners of your eyes. His touch is reverent, as if you were something sacred.

— Because I'm still trying to process that you just said those three words to me. — His voice is a husky whisper, thick with emotion. He takes a deep breath, never taking his eyes off yours, finding in them all the answers he didn't know he needed.

— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. — you excuse yourself timidly, but before insecurity can take hold, he shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping his lips. And then he kisses you.

It’s not just a kiss. It’s a refuge, a silent promise, an absolute surrender. You pour all your emotions into it. He kisses you with a devotion that rekindles the spark between you, dispelling any doubts. When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests on yours, his eyes closed tightly, as if afraid that when he opens them, this moment might vanish. But you’re there. He’s there. And nothing in the world could make this moment cease to exist.

— You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear those words from you, so don’t apologize — he whispers, his voice imbued with a sincerity that envelops you like a caress. His gaze shines with a mixture of relief and suppressed emotion.

— I really wanted to say them. — you murmur softly, brushing your nose against his in a tender and complicit gesture.

His reaction is immediate. He wraps you in his arms with a strength that doesn't seek to possess, but to hold you, wanting to reassure himself that you are real, that this moment isn't a fleeting dream. His body relaxes in the embrace, for the first time in a long time, finding true peace. The warmth he radiates is comforting, enveloping, and in that contact he understands: these aren't just words. They are an absolute truth, as undeniable as the way your heart beats in unison with his.

A soft smile spreads across his face, his eyes crinkling tenderly as he absorbs every nuance of this moment. But the intensity of his love, this longing he's harbored for so long, compels him to seek confirmation.

— Are you serious? — His voice is a deep whisper, thick with emotion, while his eyes cling to yours with quiet desperation. He needs to hear it again. He needs to know this is real.

— I'm completely serious, Heeseung. I love you. — you repeat firmly, letting each word resonate with truth, with the strength of a feeling that leaves no room for doubt.

Something in him breaks and mends itself at the same time. His lips part slightly, as if he wants to respond immediately, but the torrent of emotion is too much. A single tear slides down his cheek, a silent witness to the impact of your words. He takes a deep breath, trying to stem the avalanche of feelings, but his voice trembles when he finally lets out the answer he's been keeping deep inside.

— I love you too. — In those four words, filled with an indescribable intensity, his whole world aligns with yours.

Your heart beats frantically at just hearing it, the butterflies in your stomach flutter, but there's something else that captures your attention in that instant.

— I guess you're not the only one who loves me. — you comment, amused, feeling his desire renewed inside you, his cock hardening once more.

He chuckles softly, a deep sound that resonates in his chest, filled with satisfaction. He gently moves his hips, teasing you with his renewed hardness.

— It seems so. And it also seems like I'll have a hard time tiring of you, too. — he says, his voice husky with desire, thick with palpable lust.

— I want you to bend me over this table and take me from behind. — you gasp softly, each word professing desire.

His body shudders at your heated words, his member throbbing urgently inside you. With a grunt of pure pleasure, he slowly withdraws, enjoying the exquisite friction of each brush as his manhood slides out of your cushioned, warm walls. In one swift, determined movement, he lifts you off the table, turns you over, and bends you over the wooden surface, pressing your tits against it.

Suddenly, you feel the impact of his hand on your buttock, a blow that makes you shudder and moan in surprise, but that ends up resulting in a delicious stinging sensation. He smiles wickedly at your words, loving with some morbidity the pinkish trace he leaves on your pale skin. He rubs the spot before delivering another firm slap, enjoying the way you wriggle under his touch.

Without warning, he penetrates you again, sinking his member hard into your pussy, pressing his chest against your back as he presses you against the table and his body. He wraps his arms around your waist, pressing you against him as he begins to thrust into you mercilessly. The table creaks under the force of his movements, his muscles contracting and relaxing in a primal rhythm as he thrusts in and out again and again, without any restraint.

— Do you like it? — he asks between moans, his hot breath caressing your skin.

— I love it~ — you moan, fascinated, and he leaves soft kisses on your cheek, each touch igniting the fire between you even more.

He continues thrusting into you, his movements becoming more erratic and desperate as you move. He pursues his next release. He nestles into the crook of your neck, his lips and tongue peppering your skin with hot kisses, marking you as his with every touch. He hooks an arm under one of your legs and lifts it to the edge of the table, allowing him deeper access, each penetration sending waves of pleasure through your body.

— Tell me you're only mine. — he growls, his teeth grazing your neck, a touch that sends shivers of pleasure through you.

— I am, I'm only yours. — you whimper loudly. He shudders at your words, an intense wave of possession and love enveloping him completely.

He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your intoxicating scent as he continues to penetrate you, each movement bringing him closer to the edge of ecstasy and sensitivity.

— I love you~ — he whispers huskily, each syllable filled with fervor.

— I love you too. — you reply between moans. Bringing a hand between your body and the table, he moves down your abdomen until he finds your clitoris and begins to rub it, once again seeking that relief that seems so close.

Heeseung feels you arch, your body eager for release again. Firmly, he circles your wrist with his fingers, pulling your hand away from its goal. He wants to be the one to bring you to climax, not your own fingers.

— My turn… — he growls, replacing your fingers with his, his expert touch fanning the flames of ecstasy in your body.

— Mmm~ H-Heeseung! — you mumble, choked, your insides throbbing, nearing orgasm. You clutch the table, seeking stability in the abyss of pleasure.

He feels your limbs trembling, aware that you're on the verge of unraveling again. He rubs your clit with firm pressure, synchronizing his movements with his thrusts. With his other hand, he grabs your hips, holding you tight as he thrusts relentlessly.

— Be a good girl and cum for me again... — he commands huskily, a command that resonates deep inside you. And without further ado, Heeseung feels you convulse around him, reaching your climax, his name on your lips. — That's it, you're doing so good, baby. So good for me.

He continues moving inside you, prolonging your pleasure, reveling in the way your body trembles and gripping him in an ecstasy that seems to have no end. His own climax reaches him like a crashing wave, and with one last deep thrust, he lets himself go, spilling inside you once more, with an intensity that leaves him trembling. A deep roar escapes his throat, his gravelly voice reverberating through the studio as his body surrenders to the wave of sensations coursing through him.

The air is still thick with desire and something deeper, something beyond physical pleasure. With a ragged sigh, you collapse onto the table, the warmth of your skin meeting the coolness of the wood as you try to catch your breath. Heeseung doesn't move away. Instead, he snuggles up against you, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck and shoulder, his still erratic breathing brushing your skin. His arms slide around your waist, pulling you against him with possessive need.

— You fascinate me. — His voice is a deep whisper, still laced with emotion and desire. His lips brush against your skin as he continues to murmur words of adoration, telling you how much he loves you, how beautiful you are, how unique it feels to have you in his life.

Each word is a balm, a reminder that this isn't just desire, but something bigger, more real. His confessions feel like invisible caresses, enveloping you in a bubble of tranquility, one that belongs only to this moment, to the two of you, and to the certainty that, for now, nothing else matters.

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