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cravingcoldoreocake123 · 2 months ago

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First love

Pairing: Na Baek-jin x female reader

Summary: You’re Baku’s sister and Baek-jin’s childhood friend. After a painful falling out that tore everything apart, you’re unexpectedly reunited. It’s messy, emotional—and far from over.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, mild violence, kidnapping, emotional themes including hurt/comfort and unresolved tension.

Author’s Note: Now that my drafts are finally empty, I think it’s time for a break. I’ll probably get back to work in about a week or more—I just really need to recharge. This one didn’t turn out exactly how I wanted (kinda rough, honestly), but I still hope you enjoy it. It’s canon… sort of—I took some liberties here and there. Feel free to drop any thoughts or suggestions, especially if there’s something you didn’t vibe with. Love you all! ♥️

You remember the first time you met Na Baek-jin. You were only seven years old, trailing one step behind your older brother, Baku, as he tugged you along to meet his new friend from school. He had transferred into your neighborhood elementary that year, a quiet boy with bright, curious eyes and a shy smile. That afternoon, Baku proudly introduced him to you as his “new best buddy,” and you shyly hid behind your brother’s back at first. Baek-jin didn’t push or prod; instead, he crouched to your level, offering a small candy he’d saved from lunch. “Nice to meet you,” he said softly, voice warm and inviting. Tentatively, you stepped out and took the candy, and from that moment on, he became a constant in your daily life.

Growing up in the same neighborhood meant countless days spent together. Baek-jin was at your house more often than not—playing video games with Baku in the living room, or helping with homework at the kitchen table. He was polite to your parents and gentle with you. In your eyes, he quickly became like a second brother. He treated you with a kindness that matched Baku’s familial love but with a distinct tenderness all his own. When Baku would get a little too boisterous or tease you until you pouted, he was always the one to pat your head reassuringly and tell Baku to “cut it out.” Your brother would groan dramatically but ultimately relent when Baek-jin took your side, every single time.

One summer day, when you were around ten and the boys were eleven, the three of you decided to venture to the nearby creek. The air was sticky-hot, the sun glaring as you hopped from stone to stone in the shallow water. Baku, ever the daring one, leapt to a slippery rock and promptly lost his balance. The splash that followed drenched you from head to toe. You shrieked at the shock of the cold water and burst into angry tears—partly from surprise, partly because you’d scraped your knee on a rock during the stumble. Seeing your injury, he tried to apologize through his laughter, but you were inconsolable, wailing that your knee hurt and your dress was ruined. His amusement faded and a guilty look settled on his face, but before he could step toward you, Baek-jin was already at your side.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay,” he murmured. He lifted you as effortlessly as if you weighed nothing, carrying you piggyback out of the creek. “I’ve got you.” You clung to his back, tears still spilling onto his shirt collar, but his calm voice and sure steps soothed you. On the bank, he set you down gently and knelt to inspect your scraped knee. You watched through watery eyes as he ripped a strip from the clean edge of his t-shirt without hesitation. With a serious, focused expression, he wrapped the makeshift bandage around your cut. His fingers were careful and precise, tying a small knot. “There,” he announced softly, looking up to meet your eyes. “All better. It’s like a badge of bravery, see? You were very brave.”

His praise made you sniffle less, and you managed a tiny nod. Behind him, Baku hovered, still abashed. “Sorry, sis,” your brother mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.” You could tell he felt bad, especially seeing Baek-jin fuss over you. In true Baku fashion, he tried to lighten the mood by plucking a long blade of grass and tickling your cheek. “Don’t cry, or you’ll rust,” he joked lamely, referencing the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz, a movie you’d all watched together last week.

You hiccuped a wet giggle at his silly quip, wiping your eyes. Baek-jin still crouched in front of you, and he gave you an encouraging smile when he saw the hint of laughter on your face. “She’s tougher than rust,” he declared, casting a playful narrowed-eye look at Baku. “And you owe her ice cream for this stunt.”

Baku’s face lit up at that, happy to have a way to make amends. “Ice cream it is. Two scoops!” he agreed, holding up two fingers and grinning. He took off, saying he’d race us to the corner store, and you knew he was partly giving you and Baek-jin a moment—something he often did whenever you got upset, since Baek-jin was better at soothing you than he ever was.

Left alone with Baek-jin by the creek side, you found yourself leaning into him as you sat together on the grass. Your knee still stung but the pain was fading. In its place was a warm gratitude for the boy beside you. He had always been calm and dependable, even at that young age. While your brother had a heart of gold behind his mischief, it was him who noticed every detail, who sensed when you were uncomfortable or hurt even before you said a word. Sitting there, you played with the frayed edge of his torn shirt where he’d ripped fabric for your bandage. “I’m sorry, Baek-jin, you ruined your shirt…” you said softly, feeling guilty now that you were calmer.

He laughed a little, a soft breath through his nose. “It’s just a shirt. Don’t worry about it,” he replied. Then, to your surprise, he reached out and ruffled your damp hair gently. “That’s what big brothers are for, right?”

Big brother. The words cemented how you saw him then: a protector, just like Baku. You beamed at him, gap-toothed and cheeks still puffy from crying, and nodded. “Thank you… oppa,” you said, the Korean honorific slipping out naturally. Baek-jin’s ears turned a slight pink at that, and he looked away briefly, seeming pleased and bashful at the same time. He responded by patting your shoulder awkwardly, as if unsure how to handle being called brother by you, but he didn’t dislike it.

Moments later, Baku’s hollering echoed from the trail leading back, urging you two slowpokes to hurry up. Baek-jin stood and offered you his hand to help you up. “Come on,” he said, smiling that gentle smile of his that always made you feel safe. “Let’s go get that ice cream.”

Hand in hand, you both ran to catch up with your brother, laughter replacing tears. That day by the creek was one of countless times he proved he would always be there for you. In those early years, you thought it was simply because he was loyal like family. Baek-jin was the steady presence who balanced out Baku’s wild energy, the peacemaker in your little trio. You were the youngest of the three, the one both boys earnestly looked out for. And while you adored your real brother, a part of you always felt especially safe when Baek-jin was around.

By the time you were all in middle school, that dynamic remained much the same. Baku would roughhouse and joke around, you’d get flustered or end up pouting, and Baek-jin would intervene with a light scolding to your brother and a secret wink to you. He had a way of making you feel seen and heard, even when the rest of the world dismissed you as just the tag-along kid. In your heart, you idolized him nearly as much as you did Baku. The three of you were inseparable, and you couldn’t imagine life any other way.

Time marched on, and childhood gave way to adolescence. By the time you turned fourteen, things were… different, in ways you couldn’t quite name at first. Your brother and Baek-jin were fifteen—lanky-limbed boys on the cusp of manhood—while you were just a year behind, watching them and the world around you change. You still spent most of your time with your brother and him, but gone were the days of tree-climbing and make-believe battles in the backyard. In their place came study sessions, walks home from school, and conversations that grew deeper by the day.

Baek-jin was changing too. The shy, sweet boy who once offered you candy had grown into a handsome teenager with keen intelligence brimming behind his eyes. He kept his black hair neatly trimmed according to school rules, but a few locks always managed to fall artfully across his forehead. He had a habit of pushing those strands back when he was reading or concentrating, a gesture you found quietly endearing. You weren’t the only one who noticed his qualities—by middle school and into high school, he had admirers. Plenty of them. Girls from his class and even other schools whispered about him, giggling when he passed by. He was polite but distant with them, never really showing interest, but you… you found that you minded those giggles more than you expected.

It started as a strange tightness in your chest whenever you saw some girl twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes at him. At fourteen, you didn’t immediately recognize jealousy for what it was. All you knew was that whenever someone tried to claim even a bit of Baek-jin’s attention, you felt anxious and possessive in a way that confused you. He wasn’t your boyfriend—he wasn’t even really your brother, though he’d been calling you his “little sister” affectionately for years now. You told yourself it was normal to feel protective of him the way he was protective of you. After all, he had always been yours in a sense—your friend, your confidant. It made sense that you didn’t want to share that with strangers.

If someone else’s interest in Baek-jin made you uneasy, then the reverse was true too: whenever he seemed too friendly with other girls, a jolt of something hot and unpleasant flared in your gut. You remember one afternoon at the start of high school: you were fifteen and had just entered Eunjang High’s first year, while he and Baku were second-years by then. You’d arrived at the school gate to meet the boys after classes, only to find him speaking with a girl from Yeo-il High. She was pretty and outgoing, practically glowing as she chatted and laughed at something he said. You lingered a short distance away, pretending to tie your shoe as you eavesdropped.

“…the math notes from last week? You’re a lifesaver, Baek-jin!” the girl gushed, touching his arm lightly. He smiled politely and nodded, retrieving a notebook from his bag to hand to her. Your jaw clenched. That was your Baek-jin smile, the one he gave when he was being kind yet distant. The rational part of you knew it meant nothing special—he was just helping her with homework—but your irrational side bristled. Why did she have to stand so close? And why did it bother you so much?

Before you could spiral further, Baku’s voice bellowed from behind you, “Hey, kiddo! Ready to go?” He strode up, throwing an arm around your shoulders in a casual hug. The motion startled Baek-jin and the girl; they both turned toward the two of you.

His eyes immediately found yours, and whatever polite mask he’d had on with the girl melted into something warmer, more genuine. “Hey,” he greeted softly. You couldn’t help it—your annoyance faded the second he looked at you like that. The girl from Yeo-il glanced between you and him curiously, sensing the shift.

Baku, oblivious to any tension, grinned broadly at Baek-jin and then at the girl. “Who’s this?” he asked with an easy friendliness. You tensed, not really wanting an introduction to her, but his reply soothed you.

“Just a classmate,” he said in an even tone. He gently withdrew his arm from the girl’s touch as if establishing distance. “I was returning her notebook.”

“Oh! Well, hi, I’m Park Hu-min—Baku,” your brother introduced himself anyway, forever sociable. “And this is my sister.” He pointed to you with a thumb. “She goes to Eunjang too.”

The girl gave a polite nod to you and Baku, but her gaze drifted back to Baek-jin. “Thanks again for the notes. I’ll see you at the study group, okay?” she said with a hopeful smile. You almost rolled your eyes.

He simply replied, “Sure. See you,” in a tone that was pleasant but not encouraging. The girl hesitated, clearly wanting to linger more, but Baku’s presence, and perhaps your stare drilling holes into her, convinced her to wave goodbye and depart.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Baku gave Baek-jin a teasing smirk. “Study group, huh? Making new friends already?”

You expected him to maybe blush or stammer, but he just shook his head. “It’s not like that. She needed help in math, that’s all.” Then, to your great satisfaction, he turned to you and added, “It took a while. Sorry to keep you waiting.” His apology was directed entirely at you, as if Baku hadn’t even been waiting. Warmth bloomed in your chest at the consideration.

“It’s okay,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as you fell into step with the boys. “I didn’t wait long.”

Your brother watched this exchange with an exaggerated curious eyebrow raise. “Wow, so polite to my sister. Man, you spoil her,” he joked, nudging Baek-jin’s shoulder as you walked. “You never apologize to me for being late.”

Baek-jin huffed a soft laugh. “That’s because you’d never accept an apology without me buying you food,” he shot back, grinning when Baku let out a belly laugh. It was true—he had a bottomless appetite and often extorted snacks as penance for any perceived slight.

You laughed along, the uneasy feeling from moments ago completely gone. It didn’t escape you that Baek-jin had subtly reassured you in his own way. He hadn’t needed to brush off that girl so quickly, or make a point to apologize to you. But he did, and the gentle smile he gave you as you all headed home made your heart do a strange little flip. You pressed a hand to your chest and scolded yourself internally. Get a grip. This was Baek-jin—your friend, practically family. There was no reason for your heart to flutter like that, no reason for your skin to heat up when his shoulder bumped against yours casually as you walked. And yet, it did.

Unbeknownst to you, he was having his own struggles. As you grew from a child into a young woman, he began noticing things about you that he hadn’t before. Like how your school uniform skirt fell just above your knees, revealing shapely calves that tensed when you were impatient or excited. Or how you’d started wearing your hair differently—sometimes pulled into a ponytail that swung when you walked, sometimes down around your shoulders, shiny and inviting his fingers to brush through. He told himself these observations were just that—him being mindful of you as an older brother figure. But that excuse grew flimsier each time your laughter lit up his day or your casual touch left him lying awake at night, replaying the moment.

He tried to hide it, but Baku, ever perceptive when it came to his two closest people, caught on that something was shifting. One evening, you all were sprawled in his room after dinner—ostensibly to study, but a comic book lay open in your hands instead of a textbook. Baek-jin was solving math problems diligently, but he kept glancing up at you with a small smile whenever you chuckled at the comic’s jokes. Baku observed this with a sly grin growing on his face.

Without warning, he tossed a crumpled ball of paper at you. It bounced off your forehead and you yelped in surprise. “Oppa!” you scolded your brother, rubbing the spot theatrically. “What was that for?”

He snickered. “For fun. You looked too happy, had to balance it out,” he teased. Then he tilted his head innocently when you shot him a glare. “Aww, don’t be mad. Here—Baek-jin, comfort your precious little sister, will ya? She’s gonna cry.”

You opened your mouth to retort, cheeks burning at his taunt, but Baek-jin reacted faster. He got up from the desk and moved to sit on the floor beside you. With utter seriousness, he inspected your forehead as if truly worried. “Are you hurt?” he asked in a gentle tone that made your anger evaporate instantly.

You knew it was just Baku’s dumb teasing, and the paper ball hadn’t hurt at all, but Baek-jin’s earnest concern sent a flutter through you. “I-I’m fine,” you managed, flustered by his sudden closeness. He was near enough that you caught a whiff of his soap—fresh and clean—and saw the tiny freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose, usually hidden behind his studious poise.

Your brother rolled his eyes at the two of you. “See? Spoiled. You dote on her too much.” he proclaimed dramatically. “How’s she ever gonna survive high school when we graduate and leave her behind? She’ll cry every day without you to pamper her.”

You protested immediately. “I will not! And he doesn’t pamper—he’s just nice to me because you’re such a meanie.” You stuck your tongue out at him, trying to ignore how your face felt like it was on fire with Baek-jin still sitting so near.

Baek-jin’s lips twitched, suppressing a smile. “There’s nothing wrong with being nice to her. If anything, you should be nicer. She’s your sister.”

Baku made a comical gagging noise. “Yeah, yeah. She’s my beloved baby sis, I know. But seriously, you’re setting the bar too high, man. Now she’s gonna expect all guys to treat her like a princess,” he lamented, flopping back on his bed.

Baek-jin finally laughed outright at that, a clear, warm sound that made your heart thump. “Good,” he said firmly. “She deserves to be treated that way.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The way he said it—so matter-of-fact, as if it was the truest thing in the world—left you momentarily speechless. Baku raised his head from where he lay, eyebrows up in surprise at Baek-jin’s tone. An awkward beat passed where no one said anything. You and him exchanged quick, embarrassed glances and then both looked away, faces flushed pink for reasons neither of you would admit out loud. Baku’s gaze ping-ponged between the two of you, suspicion blooming in his eyes.

He sat up slowly, squinting at Baek-jin. “Hold on…” he muttered, then turned to you, “Are you two—?”

“No!” You practically yelped the denial, your voice cracking. Baek-jin simultaneously choked on air, coughing as if Baku’s half-formed question had triggered a reflex. Your brother had the audacity to smirk, clearly enjoying how rattled you both were.

“I was just joking, but wow, look at you two,” he crowed, his grin widening. “Guilty consciences much?”

“Shut up” you mumbled, grabbing a pillow from the floor and launching it at his face to hide your mortification. He caught it, laughing. Baek-jin, still coughing a little, stood up and mumbled something about getting water, quickly excusing himself from the room. His ears were bright red as he left.

The moment he was gone, Baku leveled you with a look that was oddly serious beneath his teasing. “For real though… you and him?” he asked in a lower voice, curiosity and a hint of protectiveness coloring his tone.

You fiddled with a loose thread on your skirt, avoiding his eyes. “There is no ‘me and Baek-jin’,” you muttered. That was true—technically. You hadn’t done anything, hadn’t even confessed your confusing feelings, and neither had he.

Your brother studied you for a second and then shrugged. “Alright. But if that ever changes… you’ll tell me, right?”

That made you snap your gaze up. “Why? So you can scare him off?”

He chuckled. “No. So I can make sure he treats you right.” At your skeptical expression, he rolled his eyes. “Look, I trust Baek-jin. He’s basically my brother too. If I had to pick anyone in the world for you, it’d probably be him.”

You gaped at your own brother, shocked at the admission. His cheeks turned a little pink and he threw the pillow back at you lightly. “Don’t look so surprised. I can be supportive!” he grumbled. “Anyway, all I’m saying is—if something’s going on, I better not be the last to know.”

Your heart swelled with affection for him in that moment. Under all his antics, he truly cared. You smiled softly. “Thanks, oppa… but really, there’s nothing to tell. We’re just… friends.”

Baku didn’t look entirely convinced, but he let it drop, sensing your discomfort. Baek-jin returned with a glass of water and the tension dissipated. Still, that night as you lay in bed, you found yourself replaying his words: She deserves to be treated that way. And the soft, almost reverent look in his eyes when he’d said you deserved the best. It made your heart race and ache all at once.

Around that time, another memory stands out—one that would later feel like a defining moment in your relationship with him. It was near the end of that school year, and the student council organized a small spring event at Eunjang High. One of the features was a makeshift “flower exchange” where students could buy flowers to give to someone as a friendly gesture or a confession. It was all in good fun, a bit of youthful frivolity coloring the halls with daisies and roses for a day.

You hadn’t expected to receive any flowers—most first-year boys barely noticed you, and the ones that did you politely turned down because, well, none of them were him. By mid-day, you saw plenty of girls carrying bouquets or single blooms with ribbons. Even Baku got a flower. Meanwhile, your arms were empty, and though you tried not to care, a small part of you felt the sting of being overlooked.

By the final bell, you resigned yourself to being one of the few without a flower. It wasn’t a big deal, you told yourself, but your chest felt heavy as you gathered your textbooks. Baek-jin, who had come over to Eunjang to walk home with you and Baku as usual, noticed your unusual quietness. He walked on your other side while Baku chattered about his day, and every so often, his elbow would brush yours, a silent question in the touch. You gave him a weak smile to ward off his concern.

As you three passed a park on the way home, Baku suddenly smacked his forehead. “Ah! I forgot my literature book at school. I need it for homework.” He groaned, already stepping away. “You guys go on ahead—I’ll run back and get it. I’ll catch up!”

Before you could offer to go with him, your brother dashed off, leaving you alone with Baek-jin. It wasn’t unusual; he often ditched you two like this, whether intentionally or just because he was scatterbrained. Either way, your heart sped up a little as you continued walking side by side with Baek-jin in the golden afternoon light.

The silence between you was comfortable, punctuated only by the sound of your footsteps and birds chirping in the trees. But Baek-jin was still eyeing you with worry. Finally, he spoke softly. “You seem down today. Everything okay?”

You mentally debated brushing it off, but he knew you too well. With a sigh, you decided to be honest, if a bit vague. “It’s nothing important. The flower thing at school just… I guess it was silly, but seeing everyone else get something and not me—it made me feel… invisible.” You cringed, immediately feeling stupid for admitting it. “Forget it. It’s childish, I know.”

He slowed to a stop, turning to face you fully. “It’s not childish,” he said quietly. His expression was gentle but serious. “Wanting to feel appreciated, seen… that’s not silly at all.”

You shrugged, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk. “I know I shouldn’t care. It was a dumb school event. It doesn’t mean anything.” Your words were dismissive, but the hurt in your voice betrayed you.

Baek-jin was silent for a moment. Then he reached out and, to your surprise, took your hand in his. Your eyes snapped up to his face, heart suddenly thudding in your ears. He rarely initiated physical contact beyond the casual friendliness expected of a “brother.” This was different—his fingers laced between yours, warm and secure.

“It means something to you,” he said, “so it means something to me.” With that cryptic statement, he gently tugged you off the sidewalk and into the grassy verge by the road. You followed, perplexed, as he scanned the ground, still holding your hand. Finally, he let out a soft aha and released you only to crouch down by a patch of wild growth.

You watched, curious, as Baek-jin carefully plucked a small handful of wildflowers—if they could even be called that. They were the kind that grew stubbornly between cracks and in untended places: a couple of scraggly dandelions, a stem of clover with a pinkish bloom, and some tiny daisies. They were a far cry from the elegant roses and sunflowers sold at the school event; frankly, they were a little wilted and lopsided. But he gathered them as if he were collecting the rarest treasures.

He stood up and turned to you, cheeks a bit pink. Baek-jin extended the bouquet toward you. “They’re not much,” he admitted, a self-conscious smile tugging at his lips. “But… for you.”

For a second, you just stared. Something about the sight of him—usually so composed and poised—holding out a fistful of ugly roadside flowers with that hopeful, earnest look on his face nearly made you burst into tears. The good kind of tears, the kind that well up when your heart feels so full you think it might overflow.

You accepted the wildflowers with trembling hands, treating them like a bouquet of gold. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick. You meant it for the flowers, yes, but more for the gesture behind them.

He visibly relaxed, as if he’d been worried you might refuse or laugh. “There,” he said softly, stepping a little closer. “Now you didn’t miss out on getting a flower.”

You managed a watery smile, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “They’re perfect,” you said, and you meant it. To you, those wildflowers were more precious than any store-bought ones.

On impulse, you rose up on your tiptoes and threw your arms around his neck in a hug. He stiffened in surprise for a split second before wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you back securely.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured near your ear. You could feel the heat of his blush against your cheek, or maybe it was your own face burning. Probably both of you, painted red in the afternoon sun.

When you pulled back slightly, your hands still resting on his shoulders, you found Baek-jin looking at you in a way he never had before. His brown eyes were soft and focused solely on you, the space between you charged with something unspoken. You realized then just how close you were standing; you could see the flutter of his dark lashes, count the tiny freckles on his skin. A drop of sweat from the warm day trickled down the side of his neck, and without thinking, you reached to gently wipe it away with your sleeve. His breath hitched—so quiet you almost missed it, but you were attuned to every small signal he gave. His hands tightened slightly on your waist.

For a dizzying moment, you wondered if he might kiss you. If you wanted him to. You both stood suspended in that electrified stillness, hearts pounding, wildflowers crushed slightly between your bodies as you hadn’t let go of them.

But fate—or rather, Baku—chose that exact moment to reappear, jogging towards you with his literature book in hand and oblivious cheer on his face. “Hey lovebirds, what’d I miss?” he hollered teasingly, startling you and Baek-jin apart like two guilty teenagers caught sneaking out.

You jumped back from him, face aflame, and he cleared his throat, stepping away so fast you almost wondered if you imagined the closeness of a second ago. Your brother slowed as he reached you, taking in the flushed faces and the bouquet of wild weeds in your hand. “Uh… did Baek-jin seriously just give you those?” Baku asked, perplexed.

You cradled the wildflowers protectively. “So what if he did?” you shot back, a little more defensively than intended.

Baku blinked, then a slow grin spread on his face—half amused, half something else you couldn’t decipher. “Nothing, nothing. It’s…cute.” He ruffled your hair and then clapped a hand on Baek-jin’s shoulder, chuckling. “My man, always going above and beyond.”

Baek-jin attempted to laugh it off, though it sounded strained. “She, um, was upset about the flower event,” he explained lamely, as if that weren’t obvious. “I didn’t want her to feel left out.”

Baku studied him for a second, then glanced at you. Something unspoken passed through your brother’s eyes, but for once, he chose not to make a snide comment. Instead, he just nodded. “That’s nice of you,” he said simply, albeit with a faint smile that told you he’d be poking fun at both of you in some way later.

The walk home resumed, this time with you carefully holding the wildflowers to your chest. Baku mercifully changed the subject to some basketball game with his friends, and Baek-jin chimed in with thoughtful questions, all of you pretending nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. But something had shifted—subtly, irrevocably—in that moment by the roadside. It felt like the tiny bud of your hidden feelings was finally beginning to bloom, and you suspected Baek-jin felt it too. The way his eyes lingered on you when he thought you weren’t noticing, and the gentle pride in his voice when he saw you had put the wildflowers in a little vase by your bedroom window later — these were signs that the bond between you was evolving into something deeper, more complex than childhood friendship.

Neither of you dared speak of it yet, but as months turned into another year, the tension—the awareness—only grew. Fleeting touches ignited sparks. Long glances across the dinner table when you ate together became charged with meaning. Baku’s teasing about you two became more pointed, and though you always denied it vehemently, in your heart a certainty was forming: You were in love with Baek-jin. Perhaps you had been for a long time, and only now were old enough to realize it.

What you didn’t know then was that he was harboring the same kind of secret in his own heart. Loyal, rational Baek-jin, who always tried to do the right thing, was hopelessly in love with his best friend’s sister — the very girl he’d sworn to protect like family. It tore at him day and night, the desire to hold you, to kiss you, at war with the guilt of betraying Baku’s trust if he ever acted on those feelings. And so, you both danced around each other, each waiting for a sign, for a safe moment to cross that line without shattering the world you knew.

That moment would come, sooner than either of you expected, in a swirl of emotion and bravery on a night that would forever be etched in your memory.

____

That fateful night arrived at the end of Baek-jin and Baku’s final year of high school. Your brother and Baek-jin graduated together, both of them ready to take on the world. You were bursting with pride—and a quiet, growing desperation. With their graduation loomed the prospect of change: college, new environments, possibly Baek-jin moving away. The mere thought made your chest tighten painfully. You knew time was running out to say what you felt, to perhaps turn those unspoken feelings into something real.

Your 18th birthday was only a couple of weeks away, but you already felt like an adult in many ways—an adult with a heart on the line. The graduation ceremony was a blur of applause and camera flashes. You watched Baek-jin on stage in his crisp cap and gown, accepting his diploma with that composed smile. Baku cheered boisterously when his own name was called, pumping a fist in the air and earning laughter from the crowd. It was a happy day, yet all through it, you were distracted by an undercurrent of sadness. After the ceremony, clusters of students and families milled about on the school lawn. You hung back as Baek-jin was approached by several classmates congratulating him. One girl boldly asked for a photo with him, and he obliged politely, though he looked a bit uncomfortable at her enthusiasm.

It wasn’t long before his eyes searched the crowd and found you standing off to the side. Excusing himself from the others, he made a beeline toward you, adjusting the bouquet of flowers in his arm that he’d received from your family. He wore a second bouquet’s worth of flowers around his neck in the form of celebratory garlands—courtesy of you and Baku. The sight was endearing: tall, handsome Baek-jin draped in bright flowers, all for him. You managed a smile as he reached you.

“Congratulations, oppa,” you said softly, holding out a small gift bag you’d prepared. Inside was a fountain pen engraved with his initials—something he could use in college.

His face lit up in genuine delight. “Thank you.” He accepted the bag and, to your surprise, pulled you into a brief but warm hug right there in front of everyone. His arm circled your back, hand pressing for just a moment between your shoulder blades in a gesture that felt possessive and tender all at once. Your cheeks warmed as you hugged him back, inhaling the subtle scent of his cologne mixed with the floral aroma clinging to him. Too soon, he pulled away, though his hand slid down your arm as he did, fingertips grazing yours as if reluctant to lose contact.

Before either of you could speak further, Baku bounded over, still in his gown and sweating from excitement. “Time for pictures, you two!” he declared, looping an arm around Baek-jin’s neck and grabbing you by the shoulder. “Come on, sis, get in here.”

You posed between your brother and Baek-jin as your parents snapped a dozen photos. In each one, you couldn’t help noticing, Baek-jin’s hand rested lightly at your waist, the touch sending a thrum of awareness through you even amid the festivities.

Later that evening, your family hosted a small celebration at home. Baku’s and your dad, Baek-jin and a couple of close family friends gathered for dinner. It was a merry atmosphere—fried chicken and pizza on the menu by your brother’s adamant request, soda and chatter filling the living room. You sat on the floor by the coffee table with a paper plate, sneaking glances at Baek-jin across the room. He was engaged in conversation with your father about his future plans. Ever the respectful son, he answered politely that he intended to study business at a local university. A part of you unclenched hearing that; local meant he wasn’t going too far. He hadn’t accepted yet, he said, but it was his first choice. You tried not to seem too obviously relieved.

As the night wore on, the party wore down. The family friends left early, thanking your dad for hosting. Your dad, too, turned in eventually, tired from the day’s events. That left just you, Baku, and Baek-jin in the living room amid half-empty plates and discarded graduation caps. Your brother was flipping through channels on the TV lazily, looking as though the day’s excitement had caught up to him as well.

“Man, what a day,” he mumbled, stretching. He gave you and Baek-jin a sleepy grin. “I’m beat. And I’ve got a second round of celebrations with the guys tomorrow, so I need sleep.” He stood and clapped a hand on Baek-jin’s shoulder. “Congrats again, bro. And hey—” he lowered his voice, though not enough to escape your hearing, “thanks for always watching out for my sis. Seriously.”

He looked a little bashful, but he nodded. “Always,” he replied simply, glancing your way as he said it.

Your brother patted Baek-jin’s shoulder once more and then headed off to his room, leaving you and Baek-jin alone in the living room. The silence that filled the space after Baku shut his door was thick with anticipation. You busied yourself stacking paper plates, unsure how to begin the conversation that needed to happen.

Baek-jin cleared his throat gently. “Do you… need help cleaning up?” he offered.

You shook your head. “It can wait until morning.” You mustered your courage and added, “You can stay a little longer, right? There’s… something I want to talk about.”

His dark eyes met yours, and you saw concern flicker there. He nodded slowly. “Of course. Is everything okay?”

You weren’t sure how to answer that yet. Instead, you gestured toward the back porch. “Let’s get some fresh air?” The house felt too quiet, too intimate; the porch light and the chirp of crickets might make it easier to speak.

He followed you outside onto the wooden porch that overlooked your small backyard. The night was mild, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees. You wrapped your arms around yourself, not from cold but to hold in the tremor of nerves. He stood beside you, hands resting on the porch railing. The moonlight cast a pale glow on his profile. He looked so good in that moment—shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing lean forearms; the angle of his jaw sharp and yet softened by the tenderness ever-present in his eyes when he looked at you. It made your chest ache.

You drew a breath, knowing if you didn’t speak now, you might lose the nerve entirely. “Baek-jin… there’s something I need to tell you.”

He turned fully toward you, sensing the seriousness in your tone. “What is it?”

Your heart pounded. Just say it. All the moments, the wildflowers, the almost-kisses, the years of friendship and love swirled inside you. You felt your eyes prickle with tears, overwhelmed before you’d even spoken. He noticed immediately; he always noticed. He took a half-step closer, worry etched on his face. “Hey… you can tell me anything. You know that.”

That earnest encouragement gave you strength. You blinked away the moisture and met his gaze head-on. “After tonight, everything’s going to change,” you began quietly. “You and Baku are graduating. You’ll both be busy. We won’t… we won’t see each other as often.” Your voice wavered despite your efforts to steady it.

Baek-jin opened his mouth to protest, but you held up a hand, needing to finish. “I realized I can’t let this day end without saying something I should have told you a long time ago.” Your pulse was roaring in your ears. The words felt stuck in your throat, but you pushed them out before fear could stop you. “I’m in love with you.”

There. You’d said it. The world didn’t end, though it felt like it might as you watched his eyes go wide in the dim light. He sucked in a breath, lips parting in astonishment.

You rushed on, stumbling over your confession now that the dam had broken. “I have been for a while, I just—I didn’t want to ruin what we have, and I was scared. But you mean so much to me. You always have. You’re… you’re everything to me.” A tear escaped down your cheek; you brushed it away angrily. “I know you might not feel the same. Maybe to you I’m just Baku’s sister—”

He moved so fast you barely registered it. One moment you were rambling, the next his hands cupped your face, warm thumbs wiping away the wetness on your cheeks. You froze, breath hitching as he brought his face inches from yours. His eyes searched yours desperately.

“I do,” he interrupted, voice low and intense. “I do feel the same.”

Your heart nearly stopped. “W-what…?”

A soft, breathless laugh left him, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening either. “I love you,” Baek-jin confessed, and now you could see that his own eyes were shiny with forming tears. “Not just as a friend, or a sister. I’m in love with you. I have been for so long… I just—I didn’t think I had the right to tell you.”

A tremor went through your entire body. Joy, relief, disbelief all warred within you. “Are you serious?” you whispered, almost afraid to believe it.

In response, he let out a shaky exhale and rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “You have no idea how serious,” he murmured. “I thought about telling you a thousand times. But Baku… and your dad… I was afraid.” He opened his eyes then, meeting yours with a vulnerability that made your heart swell. “But I can’t hold it in anymore. Not when you just said what I’ve been dying to hear.”

Your lips were inches apart. Every breath, every word between you seemed to draw you closer like gravity. “Baek-jin,” you breathed, barely able to speak past the lump of happiness in your throat. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t have to ask twice. He closed the tiny gap, capturing your lips with his in a kiss years in the making. It started gentle—his mouth was soft and trembling against yours, like he was savoring a dream and afraid to push too hard lest he woke up. You made a small sound at the sweetness of it, your hands coming up to grasp the front of his shirt, holding him to you as if to anchor yourself. That seemed to encourage him; he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. One of his hands slid from your face into your hair, fingers tangling and holding you in place as his lips moved slowly, adoringly with yours.

Your world narrowed to the sensation of his kiss—the taste of cola still on his tongue from earlier, the way he inhaled sharply through his nose as if drinking in your presence, the sheer tenderness that threatened to melt you on the spot. You’d imagined this so many times, but nothing compared to the real thing. Heat unfurled in your chest and lower, pooling in your belly. A soft sigh escaped you and you pressed closer, feeling the solid warmth of his body as your chest met his.

The porch, the night air, everything fell away. There was only Baek-jin—your Baek-jin—holding you like you were precious, kissing you like you were oxygen. When you finally broke apart for air, you both were breathing unsteadily. He rested his forehead against yours again, eyes closed, and let out a nervous little laugh.

“I can’t believe this is real,” he whispered. “Tell me I’m not dreaming, please.”

You smiled so wide it hurt your cheeks, tears of happiness pricking anew. “If this is a dream, I never want to wake up,” you answered, brushing your lips against his once more in a feather-light peck just to feel that spark again.

He responded eagerly, chasing your lips for another proper kiss that quickly grew heated. Years of repressed longing surged between you. Before you knew it, he had you gently pressed against the porch railing, his body aligning with yours. The kiss turned hungrier—still tender, but with a new undercurrent of urgency now that the floodgates were open. His tongue traced your bottom lip tentatively; you parted yours in invitation, and a quiet groan rumbled in his throat as the kiss became a deeper, wetter slide of tongues and pent-up desire.

You felt lightheaded, clinging to his shoulders. Your fingers found the short hairs at the nape of his neck and you gave a slight tug, reveling in the way it made him shiver. His hands, which had been respectfully at your back and in your hair, began to wander. He ran one palm down your spine, slow and unsure, until it rested at the small of your back. Even through the fabric of your blouse, his touch ignited sparks along your skin.

As his lips trailed away from your mouth to explore your jaw and the sensitive spot just below your ear, you bit back a gasp. He pressed a soft kiss there, then another, testing your reaction. Your body responded instinctively—a quiet moan escaping and your back arching slightly, pushing your hips forward against him. The feeling of his lower body flush to yours made you both freeze for a second, sudden awareness zinging between you. You could feel the hardness growing at the front of his pants, pressed to your stomach, even as your own belly tightened with arousal.

Baek-jin pulled back, breath ragged, concern fighting with desire in his expression. “Sorry,” he panted, clearly worried he’d gone too far. “We should… maybe slow down?”

You realized then that you were standing outside your house where anyone—your dad, Baku—could potentially see if they happened to look. As exhilarating as the moment was, a portion of your brain sobered. Not to mention, as mutual as the sudden lust was, you both were inexperienced and emotional; a step like this deserved some thought.

Gently, you nodded. “Not here,” you agreed in a whisper.

His cheeks were flushed, his lips red from kissing you, hair mussed where your fingers had run through. He looked absolutely irresistible and utterly nervous at once. “We could—” he began, then swallowed. “My place is empty…”

Your heart skipped. He was implicitly asking if you wanted to go somewhere private, alone with him. It was a big step, but you knew without a doubt what you wanted. “Okay,” you replied softly.

The walk next door to Baek-jin’s place—just across the street—was surreal. He held your hand the entire way, both of you half-giddy, half-tense with anticipation. It felt like sneaking out, like crossing some invisible threshold into a new world where it was finally okay to want each other openly.

Inside his house, it was dark and quiet. You had been here countless times, but never past dusk without anyone around. Baek-jin fumbled for the lamp in the living room, casting a warm glow. You stood together awkwardly for a moment by the couch, both unsure how exactly to proceed now that you were here. The reality of what might happen loomed between you, exhilarating and daunting.

You broke the silence first, stepping closer and taking both his hands in yours. They were shaking slightly. “I’m a little nervous,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “I… I’ve never—”

Baek-jin squeezed your hands. “Me neither,” he confessed quickly, as if to ease your mind. That admission filled you with a tender warmth; it was something you suspected but hearing it leveled the field. You weren’t the only one trembling at the unknown.

He took a steadying breath. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he added gently. “I’m perfectly happy just being here with you. There’s no rush.”

The earnestness in his voice made you fall for him even more. You realized he was giving you an out, making sure you didn’t feel pressured. But the thing was, you wanted this—wanted him—more than anything. The fear was there, yes, but overshadowed by trust and love.

Instead of answering with words, you let go of one hand and reached up to touch his face, tracing along his jaw. Then you leaned in and kissed him again. Slowly, lingeringly, pouring all the reassurance you could into it. He sighed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you fully now, one hand gently cradling the back of your head, the other settling around your waist.

Your bodies pressed together, the kiss growing in intensity once more. You could feel your pulse quicken as heat built low in your belly. After a moment, you pulled back just enough to speak against his lips. “I want to, Baek-jin… I want you. Only if you want it too.”

His response was immediate—a whispered “I do. I want you… so much.” There was a fervent honesty in his tone, as if he’d been holding back that truth for ages. Hearing it made you smile and steal another brief kiss.

Hand in hand, you navigated from the living room to his bedroom down the hall. It was dark, so he flicked on a small desk lamp, bathing the room in dim light. You’d been in his room many times before doing homework or hanging out with Baku, but tonight it felt like unfamiliar territory—tinged with the scent of his cologne and something distinctly male that made your heart flutter.

He closed the door behind you both, more out of habit than necessity since no one else was home. The soft click of the latch felt symbolic somehow—a gentle point of no return. You stood by his bed, which was neatly made. Both of you were uncertain how to start; an awkward laugh bubbled from your lips.

“We’re really doing this, huh,” you said, voice trembling not with doubt but with the sheer gravity of the moment.

Baek-jin stepped close, placing his hands lightly on your hips. “We don’t have to—” he began again, but you silenced him with a peck to his lips.

“I know,” you said softly. “I want to. I just… I might not be very good at it.” You bit your lip, face hot with embarrassment at your own boldness. Talking about sex, even now on the brink of it, was entirely new.

His eyes softened with adoration and a hint of amusement. “We’ll figure it out together,” he murmured. “It’s my first time too, remember? We’ll just… go slow.”

You nodded, gratitude flooding you for his understanding. Together, you moved in for another kiss—this one starting slow but gradually becoming more heated as the minutes passed. The two of you gravitated toward the bed. When the back of your knees bumped the edge, you sat down, bringing Baek-jin with you. He ended up half-kneeling on the floor, half leaning over you, your lips still interlocked.

His hands found the hem of your blouse, pausing there until you gave a small nod of permission. Carefully, he slipped his fingers under the fabric, skimming along your sides against bare skin. You shivered at the delicate touch. His palms were a bit clammy from nerves, but they were gentle as they crept upward. The sensation of someone else—him—touching the skin of your waist and lower back had your mind going blank and body responding eagerly. You lifted your arms, silently offering to remove the garment altogether.

He broke the kiss to look at you for confirmation. You answered by tugging at your own blouse, and he helped pull it over your head, leaving you in just a simple white bra above the waist. The cool air of the room met your flushed skin, pebbling it slightly. Immediately, Baek-jin’s gaze dropped, and you saw his throat bob as he swallowed hard. He looked almost in awe, as if he couldn’t believe he was allowed to see you like this.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice husky. The earnest praise in his tone made you blush harder. You instinctively started to raise your arms to cover yourself—the instinctual modesty of being half-undressed—but he caught your wrists gently. “Don’t,” he said softly. “Please. You… you don’t have to hide from me.”

The pure reverence in his eyes as he looked at you gave you the confidence to lower your arms. Instead, you reached for him. “Your turn,” you said with a timid smile, plucking at the front of his dress shirt.

He nodded, fumbling a little as he tried to undo the buttons. His fingers were shaking in earnest now, and after he slipped the first two free, you quietly moved your hands to help. Together, between nervous giggles and stolen kisses, you managed to get his shirt unbuttoned. He shrugged it off, and then you coaxed him to sit beside you on the bed so you could more easily pull off his undershirt as well. Your hands slipped under the cotton and lifted; Baek-jin raised his arms to let you take it off. The shirt joined your blouse on the floor, and now it was your turn to stare.

You’d seen him without a shirt before—pool parties in summer, changing for gym—yet this was entirely different. Your eyes roamed over the defined lines of his torso, the smooth plane of his chest, the subtle muscle on his arms. He wasn’t bulky, but lean and fit. A red flush crept across his collarbone and up his neck under your gaze.

Feeling bold, you lifted a hand to his chest, tracing lightly over his skin. His breath caught and he instinctively leaned into your touch. The reality of having him like this—half-naked, heart thudding under your palm—sent a thrill through you. You leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to his shoulder, then lower to the center of his chest, right over his racing heartbeat. Baek-jin let out a quiet groan, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head as if on reflex.

He tilted your face up and captured your lips again, this time with more certainty. As you kissed, you felt his hands reach behind you, fingers skimming the band of your bra. “May I…?” he asked in a breathless mumble between kisses.

You nodded and tried to hold still despite the butterflies erupting in your stomach. It took him a couple of tries—his fingers clumsy with excitement—before the clasp unhooked. You let the straps slide down your arms, discarding the bra. Immediately, he drew back to look, then conscientiously lifted his gaze back to your face, as if seeking permission again to truly see you. You answered by taking one of his hands and guiding it to your breast.

A shudder went through his body at the contact. His hand gently cupped your breast, fingers splaying over soft flesh and experimentally brushing over your nipple. You inhaled sharply; the sensation was new, a jolt of pleasure mixed with nerves shooting straight through you. Your reaction seemed to embolden him. He leaned in, kissing you again as his hand explored—touching, caressing, rolling the peak of your nipple lightly between his fingers until it stiffened under his palm.

Heat coiled inside you, and an involuntary whimper escaped against Baek-jin’s mouth. You felt rather than heard him moan in return. His free hand found your thigh, hesitant until you shifted to encourage him. Then that hand slid up beneath the hem of your skirt, stopping at the outer edge of your panties. He broke the kiss, breathing hard. “Is this okay?” he asked, voice strained with need and concern.

“Yes,” you assured, spreading your legs slightly in invitation. “Please… don’t stop.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. He kissed you softly as his fingers ventured under the elastic of your underwear. The moment his fingertips brushed against your most intimate heat, you both gasped. You were already wet—your body long since anticipating an outcome your mind was just catching up to. His fingers slid through your slickness cautiously, exploring folds that made you jolt and cling to his shoulders.

He found a sensitive spot near the top of your sex and rubbed gently, sending a wave of white-hot pleasure through your core. “Oh—” you cried out softly, biting your lip to muffle the sound. Your reaction made him pause.

“Did I hurt you?” he whispered urgently, eyes wide.

You shook your head quickly, blushing. “N-no, it… felt good,” you admitted.

Relief and a flicker of pride passed over his face. “Good,” he echoed, a small smile tugging at his lips. He kissed you again, and as he did, his fingers continued their slow, experimental ministrations. He circled that sensitive bud—your clit—in gentle motions that made your toes curl. Your hips began to move of their own accord, rocking into his hand as you quietly moaned into his mouth.

The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled breathing and soft gasps. It was both awkward and effortlessly right, learning each other’s bodies in tandem. You felt a growing urgency—an emptiness inside that cried out to be filled. Summoning courage, you reached down and tentatively palmed the front of Baek-jin’s pants where his arousal strained against the fabric. It was his turn to shudder and break the kiss, sucking in a sharp breath. He pressed into your touch instinctively, eyes fluttering closed.

You took it as encouragement to continue. With shaky hands, you undid his belt buckle, then the button and zipper of his slacks. He helped you push them down his hips, along with the waistband of his underwear. You glanced downward and your breath caught. This was the first time you’d seen a man’s sex up close—his cock sprang free, hard and already glistening at the tip with a drop of moisture. A mix of nerves and anticipation thrummed through you. He was beautiful; everything about this moment was beautiful.

Your hand, curious and trembling, wrapped around his length. It was hot and velvety in your grasp, twitching when you gave an unsure stroke. Baek-jin groaned your name softly, forehead dropping against your shoulder as if the pleasure was overwhelming. The sound of your name uttered like that, laced with pure desire, made you throb in response.

After a few moments, he gently covered your hand with his, stilling it. “If you keep doing that… I might not last,” he said with a breathless, self-conscious chuckle. You realized his whole body was taut, strung tight with restraint.

You flushed, withdrawing your hand. “S-sorry, I—”

He lifted his head and kissed you to stop the apology. “Don’t be sorry. It feels amazing. You feel amazing,” he murmured against your lips. Then his expression turned a bit serious, though the corners of his mouth were still tilted in a smile. “We should, um… do you have… protection?”

You blinked, the question cutting through the haze. “Oh! I… no. I don’t.” An embarrassed cringe followed as you realized neither of you had anticipated going this far tonight.

He bit his lip. “Hold on.” He stood up from the bed, trousers sliding further down his legs and went to his desk across the room. You couldn’t help but admire the view for a split second—his backside was just as appealing as the front, muscles shifting under smooth skin. He rifled through a drawer for a moment and then made a soft aha sound. When he turned back, you saw a small foil packet in his hand. Your eyes widened in mild surprise.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, misreading your look. “Uh… my classmates handed a bunch of these out as a joke on the last day of classes,” he explained quickly. “I wasn’t… planning anything, I swear. I just didn’t throw it away.”

Relief and affection flooded you in equal measure. Of course he would feel the need to clarify that he wasn’t presumptuous. You offered him a warm smile. “It’s okay. I’m glad you have it.”

He returned to the bed, packet in hand. Both of you hesitated for a moment, realizing the next step. You were still in your skirt and panties, though his hand was still inside them, now resting against your thigh. He was completely bare from the waist down, his arousal evident and begging attention. A blush crept over Baek-jin’s features as he sat beside you. “Should I, um… take these off?” he asked, fingers plucking at the waistband of your skirt.

Your heart fluttered at his bashfulness. Somehow it eased your own, knowing he was just as shy. “Yes,” you whispered. “Help me?”

He nodded. Standing again, he gently guided you up as well. Your skirt fastened with a simple side zipper; He found it and slowly drew it down, the sound oddly loud in the quiet room. The skirt fell to your feet, leaving you in just a pair of white cotton panties. His eyes raked over you, and you saw him inhale deeply, like he was trying to steady himself.

Hooking his thumbs under the thin elastic at your hips, Baek-jin paused, glancing up. You answered his unspoken question by resting a hand over his and pushing down lightly. That was all the permission he needed to slide your panties down, the undergarment joining your skirt on the floor. Now you stood completely naked before each other, vulnerable and open in every sense.

His gaze traveled over your nude form reverently, stopping at the apex of your thighs where you felt cool air and slickness. His ears burned red, and he quickly met your eyes again, giving you a reassuring smile to mask how flustered he was. To ease the tension, you took his hand and pulled him gently back onto the bed with you. Both of you crawled up to lie properly on the sheets. He tossed aside the decorative pillows in his way, eliciting a soft laugh from you.

Side by side, you and Baek-jin shared a look that was equal parts exhilaration and anxiety. You reached out to caress his cheek. “I love you,” you whispered, needing him to hear it again, to know this was rooted in love, not just lust or impulse.

His face softened into that heart-melting smile you knew so well. “I love you,” he echoed, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm.

With those words easing any lingering doubt, you leaned in and kissed him deeply. The two of you shifted naturally; he rolled on top of you, supporting his weight on his forearms so he wouldn’t crush you. The feeling of his bare skin against yours, chest to chest, hip to hip, was intoxicating. You parted your thighs, letting him settle between them. When his stiff arousal brushed against your inner thigh, you both groaned softly into each other’s mouths.

Baek-jin tore his lips from yours, breathing heavily. “Condom,” he reminded himself hoarsely, and you realized you’d almost forgotten in the heat of the moment.

You watched as he sat back on his knees between your legs, tearing the foil with trembling fingers. It took him an extra second to get it right, and you found the sight oddly sweet—his intense concentration on such a mundane but important task. Once he rolled the condom onto his length, he hovered over you again.

Your heart was pounding so fast you worried briefly you might faint. He stroked a hand down your side soothingly. “We’ll go slow,” he promised in a whisper. “Tell me if it hurts… or if you want to stop, okay?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his back. “Okay.”

He kissed you once more, tenderly, as one of his hands moved down to guide himself to your entrance. You felt the tip of him nudge against your folds, searching. Instinctually, you angled your hips to help. Your nerves spiked, knowing this was it.

He pressed forward gently, and you felt the pressure as your body resisted momentarily. He paused, concern flitting over his face at your sharp inhale. “Relax,” he soothed, kissing your cheek. His free hand found yours, fingers interlocking—an anchor. “Breathe, love.”

You focused on his voice, his touch, willing yourself to unclench. On the next slow push, the head of his cock slipped past that initial tight ring of muscle, stretching you in a way you’d never felt before. You gasped, nails digging slightly into his shoulder. It was uncomfortable for a moment—an acute burning sensation making your eyes water. Baek-jin immediately stopped and peppered your face with light kisses, whispering apologies and sweet words into your skin.

“I’m okay,” you managed, though your voice shook. You took a few deep breaths, adjusting to the intrusion. The pain began to ebb into a dull ache. You nodded softly. “Keep going… just slowly.”

He kissed your forehead and continued, inch by careful inch. Every few moments he would still and ask, “You alright?”, and you would nod or whisper yes, urging him on despite the strain. The trust between you was absolute; you knew he’d stop the second you said so. But even through the discomfort, you wanted this closeness, wanted to feel all of him.

Eventually, with a final shallow thrust, he was fully seated inside you. Both of you let out trembling breaths at the completion. You felt so filled, stretched around his thickness, your bodies now joined in the most intimate way. Baek-jin was shaking slightly from holding back. A sheen of sweat covered his brow; he had kept himself in check for your sake, and you loved him all the more for it.

The initial pain was already receding, replaced by a growing sense of rightness and pleasure at the fullness. You shifted experimentally, and the motion made you both moan as friction sparked along your nerves.

“God… you feel… amazing,” Baek-jin groaned softly, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He was trying so hard to stay still, to let you adjust, but you could tell it took effort.

“You can move,” you whispered, wrapping your legs around his hips partly by instinct. “I’m okay now.” You were rewarded by a surge of warmth as he pressed a grateful kiss to your neck.

He started to move, pulling back slowly and then easing forward again. The drag of his length against your inner walls made you gasp—now that the sting had subsided, the sensation was strangely pleasurable, a friction that built heat inside you. His first few thrusts were cautious, shallow; he watched your face intently for any sign of discomfort. You met his gaze and gave him a reassuring smile, which turned into an open-mouthed moan as he pushed in a little deeper this time.

His breathing grew labored. Taking your cue, he began a steady rhythm—gentle, measured slides in and out of your slick warmth. Each movement stoked the fire in your belly. What started as small sparks of pleasure was now blossoming into waves of it. You clung to him, your fingernails leaving faint crescents on his back. The slight awkwardness persisted—an uncertain cadence, a slip here or there when he thrust a bit off-angle—but it only made the moment more real. You even giggled softly at one point when your noses bumped as he tried to kiss you mid-thrust.

“Sorry,” he murmured with a breathless chuckle of his own, adjusting his angle by propping himself on one arm so he could use the other hand to cradle your head, keeping it still for a proper kiss.

“Don’t apologize,” you managed to say, then gasped as that new angle sent him brushing against a particularly sensitive spot deep inside. Your head fell back on the pillow and your eyes fluttered. “Oh—Baek-jin… do that again.”

He looked puzzled for a second, then realized what had happened and obliged, thrusting in the same way. The jolt of pleasure made you cry out softly, and his restraint frayed at the seams. He began moving a little faster, a little harder, focusing on hitting that spot that made you writhe beneath him. The wet sounds of your joining and your breathy moans mixed with his low groans filled the room.

The pressure within you coiled tighter with each snap of his hips. You felt yourself on the edge of something intense and wonderful, something you’d only ever achieved on your own in cautious, experimental moments late at night thinking of him. Now Baek-jin was here, and it was him bringing you to that precipice.

Sensing your mounting pleasure, Baek-jin slipped a hand between your bodies, finding your swollen clit with his fingers. He rubbed small, precise circles that sent you spiraling.

It was all too much—his touch, his love, his body claiming yours in gentle, urgent motions. With a few more strokes inside and out, you tumbled over the edge. Your muscles clenched tight around him as you came, a shattered cry of his name on your lips. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through you, leaving you trembling and clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in the world.

The feel of you climaxing—your walls squeezing around his length, your nails digging into his back—drove him to his own release. He managed a few more erratic thrusts before he groaned deep in his chest and buried himself fully one last time. A guttural cry tore from his throat as he found his release, his cock throbbing deep inside you, warmth flooding the condom.

He collapsed against you, both of you a sweaty, tangled mess atop the bed. For a long moment, neither of you moved, both catching your breath, hearts pounding in unison. Baek-jin pressed lazy, adoring kisses to your shoulder and neck, whispering “I love you” in between each one. You turned your head to meet his lips in a slow, tender kiss, tasting the salt of tears—at some point, you realized, you’d both been crying softly from the overwhelming emotion of it all.

Eventually, he carefully withdrew, making you both gasp at the over-sensitivity. He disposed of the condom and then immediately returned to your side, gathering you in his arms on the bed. Both of you were a bit sticky with sweat and other fluids, but you couldn’t care less in that moment. You nestled against his chest, and he pulled a light blanket over your entwined bodies.

There in the quiet of his room, you listened to each other’s heartbeats slow to normal. Baek-jin stroked your hair and you traced idle patterns on his arm with your fingertips. No words were needed for a while; comfort and joy spoke loud enough in every gentle touch.

At length, he broke the silence, voice soft and a little drowsy. “Are you alright? Was that… okay for you?” There was a hint of anxiety there, the lingering worry that he might not have done well by you.

You tilted your head up to catch his eyes, offering a blissful, tired smile. “It was perfect,” you assured him. “Better than I ever imagined.”

Relief flooded his features, and he leaned down to kiss the tip of your nose sweetly. “Good. I feel the same way.” His cheeks dimpled with a small, happy grin.

You spent a few more minutes exchanging soft kisses and quiet giggles, neither of you quite ready to leave the little bubble of warmth and love you’d created. It felt natural—falling asleep in each other’s arms, whispering about the future. You talked about meeting up the next day, about how or when to tell Baku.

Eventually, with the late hour pressing and knowing your parents expected you home, you regretfully disentangled from him to get dressed. Baek-jin walked you back to your house, fingers laced with yours the whole way, and stole one last deep, heart-melting kiss on your doorstep under the stars.

When you sneaked back to your room, you collapsed onto your bed with a dreamy sigh, wildflowers from months ago still dried and safe in a vase on your windowsill. You were in love, and you were loved in return. In that moment, life felt utterly, perfectly right.

Neither of you could have foreseen how soon it would all come crashing down.

——-

For a short while after that blissful night, life felt like a dream. You and Baek-jin navigated your new relationship in secret, stealing kisses behind closed doors and exchanging tender glances when no one was looking. Baku remained oblivious to the shift—partly because you and Baek-jin were careful, and partly because your brother became preoccupied with other things. After graduation, Baku decided to postpone college and help more at your father’s fried chicken restaurant, wanting to support the family business. Baek-jin, on the other hand, enrolled at a local university as planned.

Despite different daytime paths, the evenings still often found the three of you together—at least at first. Baek-jin would drop by after his classes, and you’d all share dinner like old times. Only now, under the table, he might surreptitiously brush his knee against yours, or you’d steal away to the kitchen on the pretense of fetching more water just so he could whisper “I love you” and peck your lips out of sight. It was thrilling and warm and everything you hoped for.

But as weeks turned into a couple of months, a subtle tension began to creep in. He started receiving more phone calls and texts that he would step outside to answer. When you asked if everything was alright, he assured you it was just school projects or group meetings. However, you noticed the way his jaw tightened sometimes, the way his eyes would harden at messages he read. There were nights he couldn’t come over at all, with vague excuses about being busy.

You tried not to worry. After all, he had his own life—new college friends, responsibilities. Yet a small voice in your head whispered that something was off. Baku also mentioned hearing rumors in town: whispers of a group of young thugs calling themselves “the Union” stirring up trouble at local high schools and neighborhoods. You didn’t initially connect this to Baek-jin—why would you? He was a model student, always responsible. But soon, bits and pieces started adding up in ways that made your stomach twist.

One evening, you caught a glimpse of a bruise on his cheek that he attempted to hide with a baseball cap pulled low. You gently touched his face, concern evident, and he smiled it off, saying he accidentally walked into a half-open door on campus. It didn’t make sense; he was far too observant to do something so clumsy. But you let it go, not wanting to seem mistrustful.

Then came the night everything shattered.

It was late, close to midnight, when loud banging at your front door jolted you awake. You scrambled out of bed to find Baku already at the door, talking in agitated tones with someone. As you drew closer, you recognized one of Baku’s friends from the restaurant, a fellow employee, panting and looking alarmed.

“What happened?” you asked, heart in your throat.

The friend glanced at you and back to Baku. “Some guys came into the restaurant just before closing,” he explained hurriedly. “They had fake IDs and ordered beers. Your dad didn’t know—he served them. But they were undercover cops or something. They… they arrested him for serving alcohol to minors.”

You gasped and your blood ran cold. Baku looked thunderous, hands clenched into fists. “That’s bullshit,” he snarled. “Appa would never knowingly do that. Where are these so-called minors?”

The friend shook his head. “They disappeared. As soon as the police took your father in, those kids vanished. It was like a set-up.”

A set-up. Your mind raced. Who would set up your father? Why?

“We need to go to the police station,” you said, voice shaking. “There’s a misunderstanding— dad did nothing wrong—”

Baku put a steadying hand on you shoulder. “ I’ll go. You stay here and try not to worry. I’ll get Appa out.” His tone was firm, but you could see the barely restrained fury simmering in his eyes.

The boy offered to drive Baku. As your brother grabbed his jacket and headed out, you followed, refusing to stay behind. “I’m coming with you.”

Baku whirled, about to object, but one look at your face and he relented with a nod. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The ride to the police station was tense and silent. Your thoughts were a chaotic jumble: who would target your father’s restaurant? It was a small, beloved local place. Your father was friendly with everyone. This had to be personal, but no enemies came to mind… except—

A memory from a couple of weeks prior surfaced unbidden: Baek-jin, coming over one evening pale and on edge. He’d asked casually how the restaurant was doing and if Baku ever had any trouble with “delinquents” around. Baku had laughed, saying even the rough kids in town respected your father because he gave free chicken to local youth on holidays. Baek-jin had only hummed and changed the subject. At the time, it seemed like idle curiosity. Now… your stomach churned.

You arrived at the station to find your father in a holding area, bewildered and upset but unharmed. It took hours of negotiation and the intervention of a sympathetic sergeant to get him released with a warning, given his clean record and the dubious circumstances of the sting. Still, the incident would go on his record, and a fine would be issued. Your father was distraught, repeatedly insisting he didn’t know those boys were underage. You and Baku both reassured him you believed him.

It was dawn by the time you got back home, your father exhausted and you were tending to him with tea. Baku’s anger had not cooled, however. In the grey early light, you saw him pacing in the front yard, eyes burning with a need for retribution.

You approached cautiously. “Baku… what are you going to do?”

He turned to you, expression set in grim determination. “This has Baek-jin’s fingerprints all over it.”

Hearing the name sent a lurch through your chest. “What? Baek-jin? No—he’d never—” But even as you denied it, your voice faltered. The pieces were falling into place in your head: The Union, the secretive calls, the bruise, his question about the restaurant…

Baku’s face contorted with hurt and rage. “He would. To get to me.” He kicked at a pebble on the ground, sending it skittering violently. “Those were Union bastards. This is how they operate—blackmail, coercion. He’s been trying to recruit me for months now, subtle shit at first. I kept telling him no—that I wouldn’t join his thug army. Looks like he found a way to force my hand.”

Your mind reeled. “Recruit you? Thug army? Baek-jin isn’t—he’s not a thug, Baku, he’s—” the words died on your tongue. Wasn’t he? The Baek-jin you knew and loved would never hurt your family. But the Baek-jin Baku was describing… a cold strategist willing to do anything to achieve his goals… who was that?

Your brother’s gaze softened seeing your disbelief and pain. He stepped forward and put his hands on your shoulders. “Sis… I didn’t want you dragged into this. I hoped to keep you out of it entirely.” His jaw clenched. “I didn’t want to believe it either, that our friend could be mixed up in something so dirty. But I’ve seen signs. He’s the leader of the Union at Yeo-il High and beyond. Half the fights breaking out around town can be traced back to him consolidating power.” Baku’s eyes shone with betrayal. “I confronted him about it once, a while ago. He didn’t deny it. Said something cryptic about needing to build strength to protect what matters. I told him he was out of his mind. We almost came to blows that day… and now this.” He gestured angrily back at the house, implying the stunt with your father.

Tears prickled in your eyes. “He’s been lying to us… to me.” Your voice trembled. Part of you wanted to defend him, to find some explanation—but the evidence was overwhelming.

Baku drew you into a hug, and you realized you were shaking. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I know you two were close. I never imagined he’d betray us like this.”

Close. If only he knew the depth of it. That Baek-jin held not just your friendship but your heart—and your body, your soul, given to him in trust and love. The pain of this betrayal hit you like a physical blow. You clung to Baku, tears slipping out despite you squeezing your eyes shut.

“I have to go see him,” you whispered once you could speak, pulling back. “I need to hear it from him directly.”

Baku looked hesitant. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s dangerous right now. And I’m… not in a state to talk peacefully.” His hands curled into fists again. “But I agree, we need answers. He and I—this ends today.”

Despite Baku’s warning, you both ended up going—together—to find Baek-jin. He, through his network of friends and some Union kids he knew, learned that Baek-jin could be found that morning at an abandoned construction site by the river, where Union members sometimes hung out. Why he was there, you didn’t know—maybe a deal or a meeting. Perhaps he was waiting, knowing Baku would come.

When you arrived at the desolate area, the sun was just rising, casting long shadows from rusting cranes and half-built structures. You spotted a few young men—recognizably Union members by their leather jackets and cocky stances—loitering near a chain-link fence. As soon as they saw Baku, they squared up, but then one held up a hand, listening to an earpiece or phone. Reluctantly, they stepped aside, allowing you and Baku to pass. It was as if you were expected.

Your heart thudded with dread and anticipation as you and your brother walked into the skeleton of an unfinished building. And there he was—Na Baek-jin, standing a few paces away on the concrete floor, hands in his pockets. Gone was the gentle boy who gave you wildflowers and tender kisses. The Baek-jin before you looked every inch the notorious Union leader: posture confident, face calm but inscrutable, wearing a black jacket and boots that made him seem taller, more imposing. Yet when his eyes fell on you, you saw a flash of emotion crack through the facade—surprise, concern, pain, all flickering in an instant before he masked it.

“You shouldn’t have brought her, Baku.” He said quietly, his gaze moving to your brother. His voice was the same familiar warmth, but edged with tension.

Baku stepped forward, placing an arm in front of you protectively. “After what you pulled, you don’t get to tell me what to do concerning my sister,” he spat. “What the hell were you thinking, framing our father like that?!”

Baek-jin closed his eyes for a second, as if pained. “I ensured nothing permanent would happen—”

“Bullshit!” Baku roared, lunging forward. You barely grabbed his sleeve in time to hold him back from swinging. “You call having him arrested and humiliated ‘nothing permanent’? You crossed a line. You dragged my family into your schemes.”

Baek-jin’s eyes flickered to you, full of regret. “I did it to protect all of you,” he said, raising his voice as Baku struggled against your hold. “Don’t you get it? There are bigger threats out there than some school bullies. Dangerous ones. I needed you with me, Baku, where I could keep you safe. Your father… I knew the police would let him off with a slap on the wrist. It was leverage, nothing more.”

You felt a surge of nausea. Leverage. He had used your father as a pawn. His words might have been calm, even logical in his mind, but to you they rang hollow and cruel.

“Keep us safe?” you interjected, voice rising. “By hurting us? By betraying us? How is that protection?” Tears blurred your vision, but you kept your eyes on him.

He took a step toward you, but Baku moved squarely in front, blocking him. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, directing his plea over Baku’s shoulder to you. “Please believe that. I thought if Baku joined me, I could shield all of you from the gangs beyond our town. The Union is going to expand, whether we like it or not. If we’re not on top, we’re victims. I couldn’t let that happen to you. Any of you.”

Baku let out a contemptuous laugh. “Listen to yourself. So high and mighty. I didn’t ask for your ‘protection.’ We were doing just fine. There were other ways, damn it!”

The two men glared at each other, years of brotherhood hanging by a thread. You felt torn in half, love and fury warring inside you.

Wiping angrily at your eyes, you stepped around your brother before he could stop you, facing Baek-jin directly. “And what about me?” you demanded, voice shaking. “Did you even think about what this would do to me?”

Baek-jin’s face crumpled at the sight of your tears. “Every day,” he said hoarsely. “Not a moment went by I didn’t think of you. I wanted to tell you, but… I knew you’d try to stop me. I knew you’d look at me like you are right now.” His own eyes were reddening, moisture gathering. “Like I’m a monster.”

You let out a choked sob. “I trusted you. I loved you, Baek-jin. And you lied to me. You used us.” The word loved hung in the air and he flinched as if struck, his composure faltering.

Baku’s head whipped toward you in shock at your admission, but he held his tongue, perhaps realizing this was neither the time nor the revelation to address right now.

Baek-jin stepped closer cautiously, ignoring the way Baku tensed beside you like a guard dog. “I thought… if I could just get through this, secure things… then I could—” he swallowed hard. “I planned to fix it. To make it up to you. All of you.”

“Make it up how? By winning some gang war and acting like the ends justify the means?” Baku snapped. “Wake up, man. You already lost us.”

Those words lingered, heavy and brutal. Baek-jin looked at Baku, then at you, panic flickering under his controlled exterior. “No… I—I can’t lose you. Either of you.”

“You made that choice when you did all this,” you replied, heart breaking at the devastation on his face even as your anger held firm. “The boy I grew up with, the man I fell in love with—he would never have done this. I don’t know who you are anymore.”

Tears were flowing freely down your cheeks now, and you saw his own eyes spill over at your words. He moved as if to reach for you, but Baku intercepted, shoving him back hard. “Don’t you touch her,” he growled, voice thick with his own emotion. “You don’t get to comfort her. Not after you caused her pain.”

Baek-jin stumbled back a step, not from the force of the shove, but as if Baku’s words had physically hit him. You could see him trembling, torn between pride and sorrow. Behind him, a couple of Union boys had edged closer, wary of the confrontation escalating. One called out, “ Everything alright?”

Baek-jin held up a hand without looking, a signal for them to stay back. His gaze remained locked on you over Baku’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

Sorry wasn’t enough. It couldn’t mend the betrayal, not now. Maybe not ever. You felt something inside you wilt and harden at once—a bitter acceptance that the boy you adored was truly gone, replaced by someone who wore his face but carried a stranger’s heart.

Baku stared at his former friend, disgust and heartbreak etched in every line of his face. “We’re done, Baek-jin,” he said quietly, an air of finality in the words. “Stay away from my family. If I see you again… I won’t hold back.”

With that, he gently took your arm, guiding you to turn away. You followed, numb and shaking, after casting one last look at Baek-jin. He stood rooted in place, lips parted like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find any more words. The morning light caught in his eyes, showing the anguish there. For a fraction of a second, you nearly faltered—nearly ran back to him to wipe those tears and pretend none of this had happened.

But the pain was too deep, and your trust too broken.

As you walked away with Baku, you heard Baek-jin call your name once, a fractured plea echoing in that hollow construction site. You did not turn back.

⸻

The aftermath was a blur. Baku reluctantly agreed to join the Union under Baek-jin’s command, but only for long enough to ensure your father’s issue disappeared and no further harm would come to your family. Baek-jin kept his distance during that period, communicating through intermediaries. Perhaps he knew that if he faced Baku—or you—again so soon, whatever fragile control on everyone’s temper held might snap.

Within a few weeks, your father’s charges were dropped entirely—evidence lost, case dismissed. Baku, having upheld his end to appease Baek-jin, quit the Union in a storm of fists and fury not long after, declaring he was done with all of them. It earned him a few scars, and a warning that one doesn’t simply walk away. But no one ever came for him in earnest; some suspected even then that Baek-jin silently ordered them to leave your brother alone.

And Baek-jin… he vanished from your life. A couple months after that fateful confrontation, you heard that he withdrew from university and was seen traveling—maybe to expand Union operations elsewhere, maybe to chase whatever grand scheme he’d concocted. To you, it felt like he just disappeared off the face of the earth. Not a call, not a note. It was as if the boy you loved had died, leaving behind only the whispers of a rising crime boss in the wind.

You tried to move on. You poured yourself into caring for your dad and supporting Baku, who bore his own guilt—guilt that he hadn’t somehow prevented you from getting hurt, guilt that he’d ever let Baek-jin into your lives. You assured him none of it was his fault. Outwardly, you seemed to heal with time. You went to college in the city, focused on studies, even dated a nice classmate briefly in an attempt to feel normal.

But inside, you carried the wound of his betrayal. Anger became your shield against the lingering love that refused to fully extinguish. On nights when you couldn’t sleep, you’d find yourself touching the faint scar on your knee from that childhood creek incident and cursing his name for every tear you shed. Other nights, you’d dream of gentler times—of wildflowers and warm hugs—and wake up with your heart throbbing with longing despite everything. Those mornings you hated yourself most of all, for still yearning for him.

By the time a few years passed, you thought you had finally managed to hate Baek-jin enough to forget him. Or at least to bury the memories deep.

____

It’s been four years since that day. Four years since he walked out of your life and you swore to hate him forever. You’re twenty-two now—a grown woman with a college degree and a job helping manage your family’s restaurant. On the surface, everything is fine. But some nights, you still catch yourself standing by your bedroom window, looking at the moon and wondering where he is. If he ever thinks of you. You always scold yourself after—reminding your heart of the promise that you’d moved on.

Tonight started out like any other busy evening at the restaurant. You stayed late to help your father close up, sending Baku home early since he had an early morning delivery to make. As the clock neared midnight, you shooed your yawning father away to bed and assured him you’d finish mopping and lock up.

The streets were quiet as you flipped the sign to “Closed” and pulled down half the shutter on the front door. The familiar smell of fried chicken and cleaning detergent lingered in the warm summer air. You were tired but looking forward to collapsing in bed after a hot shower.

That’s when the silence broke. The scrape of shoes on pavement behind you—several pairs. Before you could react, a rough hand clamped over your mouth and an arm snaked around your waist from behind. Panic exploded in your chest. You thrashed, managing to bite the hand over your mouth.

“Little bitch!” a male voice snarled as the hand released you briefly. You screamed, but it was cut short as another figure loomed in front and delivered a sharp backhanded slap to your face. Stars burst in your vision and you stumbled, the metallic taste of blood on your lip.

Dazed, you felt multiple hands grab you. “Tie her!” someone barked. Zip-ties cinched cruelly around your wrists behind your back. You kicked blindly, hearing one of your assailants grunt as your foot connected with something solid.

“Feisty, huh?” Another voice, amused and cruel. “Keep struggling and we might have some fun before we hand you over.” Laughter followed, and dread coiled in your stomach.

Hand you over? Fun? Your pulse spiked with terror at the implication. You mustered a hoarse shout. “Help! Baku—!”

A punch to your gut knocked the wind out of you. “Shut up!” a voice hissed against your ear. As you doubled over in pain, someone shoved a foul-smelling cloth into your mouth to gag you.

Eyes watering, you finally got a look at the attackers—three young men, maybe a couple years older than you, with sneering faces. Tattoos peeked from under their sleeves, and one had a chain dangling from his belt.

Fear mixed with fury. For a fleeting second you wondered if Baek-jin sent them—if this was yet another play in his twisted game. But it felt wrong; why now, after so long? And why target you?

One of them, a lanky guy with bleached hair, grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up. “Where’s Baku?” he demanded. “We know he usually closes.”

Your stomach dropped. They were after Baku, and you were the unlucky bait. You glared in defiance, answering only with a muffled curse behind the gag.

Bleach-hair clicked his tongue. “Not gonna talk? Fine. You’ll still draw him out.” He nodded to the others. “Boss wants us back in twenty. Let’s move.”

They half-dragged, half-carried you to a van idling in the alley. Your mind raced, trying to recall the self-defense training Baku had drilled into you after everything went down years ago. But with your wrists bound and three of them, you had no chance. All you could do was kick and twist, making the capture as difficult as possible.

It earned you a few extra bruises—an elbow to your ribs here, a yank of your hair there. Eventually, they shoved you into the van’s back and slammed the doors. The engine revved, and you were on the move.

Heart hammering, you frantically thought of Baku. He was home, asleep by now likely. Would he even know you were gone until morning? The restaurant’s smashed security camera meant no footage of the kidnapping. If these thugs intended to lure Baku, perhaps they’d tip him off. The idea of your brother walking into a trap made you sick with worry.

The van ride lasted maybe fifteen minutes. When it screeched to a halt and the doors opened, you were greeted by the sight of an old, dimly lit warehouse. Likely one of the abandoned storage depots outside of town. Two of the punks hauled you out, while the third jogged ahead to slide open a massive rolling door.

Inside, the warehouse was cavernous and mostly empty, save for a few crates and stacks of pallets. Your eyes darted around, adjusting to the gloom punctured by a few fluorescent lights. Near the center of the space stood a large wooden desk, incongruously placed as if someone had set up a makeshift office. A single tall floor lamp cast a warm glow over the desk’s surface, which was strewn with papers and a laptop. And behind that desk, rising slowly to his feet as you were dragged forward, was Baek-jin.

You almost didn’t recognize him at first. The years had changed him in subtle yet significant ways. He was taller, his frame filling out with a man’s broadness. His black hair was a touch longer on top, swept back stylishly. He wore a charcoal-grey dress shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and black slacks—an outfit that struck you as both oddly sophisticated and dangerous when paired with the gun holster visible at his hip. His face… it was the same beautiful face etched in your memory, but harder now. Sharper cheekbones, a jaw clenched with authority, and eyes that no longer held the easy warmth of youth. They widened in shock the moment they locked onto you.

“What is this?” his voice cut through the silence like a whip. He stepped around the desk, thunder in his expression. The bleached-hair thug faltered under that gaze.

“We couldn’t get Baku,” the thug explained nervously. “He wasn’t there, but we grabbed his sister. Figured we’d use her to lure—”

Baek-jin moved faster than you could blink. One second he was several paces away; the next, he had the thug by the collar. He yanked the underling forward with enough force that the guy stumbled. “Are you out of your mind?” He snarled inches from the man’s face. “I gave no such order.” With a shove, he released the thug, who nearly tripped over his own feet to scramble back.

His furious gaze swept over the other two men holding you. “Let her go. Now.” The authority in his tone was absolute, and the men obeyed immediately, cutting the zip-tie from your wrists and removing the gag.

You coughed, lungs sucking in blessed air as the foul cloth was pulled from your mouth. Your hands were free, but tingling with pins and needles from being bound so tightly. Without the men propping you up, your knees buckled. Before you could hit the ground, Baek-jin was there, catching you. One strong arm around your back supported your weight, the other hand gently cradling your cheek.

“You’re okay… you’re okay,” he murmured, voice a tremor of concern as his eyes frantically scanned you for injuries. The genuine worry in his face made something crack inside you. You jerked away from his hold, nearly stumbling again in your haste.

“Don’t touch me,” you spat, retreating a step. Your blood was roaring in your ears, a cocktail of fear, relief, anger, and heartbreak rendering you shaky and wild-eyed.

His hands dropped to his sides, but he didn’t back off entirely. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, desperation lacing his tone. “They weren’t supposed to— I would never have allowed—” He stopped, as if realizing nothing he said would matter.

You wiped at your bleeding lip with the back of your hand. “Kidnapping innocent people, Baek-jin? Is that what you do these days?” Your words dripped venom. “Or was I just a special case?”

Pain flickered across his face. “It wasn’t supposed to be you,” he insisted. “They acted on their own. They were only meant to monitor, not… this.” He shot a glare at the three underlings. All of them had inched away, sensing the storm. “Get out,” Baek-jin ordered them tightly. “Wait outside and pray you still have a job by dawn.”

The thugs didn’t need to be told twice. In a few heartbeats, their footsteps faded out the warehouse door, leaving you and Baek-jin alone in the pool of lamplight amid the dusty gloom.

For a moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing. You felt acutely aware of your throbbing lip and the aches where fists or boots had struck. Adrenaline still coursed through you, but with the immediate danger gone, another sensation took over—an overwhelming tidal wave of emotion at being face-to-face with him again after all these years.

He seemed to be experiencing the same. His eyes drank you in, concern and longing evident. “Are you hurt?” he asked softly, taking a cautious half-step closer. “Let me—” He reached a hand toward you again, perhaps to check your injuries.

You slapped his hand away, anger surging to the forefront. “Don’t pretend you care,” you snapped, voice cracking. “Not after what you did.”

He flinched as if you’d struck him instead of the other way around. “I do care,” he protested. “I never stopped caring about y—”

“Stop.” You held up a hand, tears burning in your eyes now, threatening to spill. “You don’t get to say that to me. You don’t get to care after disappearing and leaving me to pick up the pieces!”

Your raised voice echoed off the metal rafters. He closed his eyes, pained. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

The apology, so simple and so late, ignited your fury further. All the grief and heartache you’d bottled up came pouring out in that moment. “Sorry? You think ‘sorry’ fixes it?!” you shouted, stepping forward. You shoved at his chest with both hands. He barely budged, but you saw the torment in his face. So you shoved him again, and again, pounding your fists weakly against his solid frame. “You broke my heart, Baek-jin! You broke me!”

Tears blurred your vision as you hit him. He didn’t resist or pull away; he stood there and took it, arms at his sides. “I hate you,” you choked out, though even as you said it, the words tasted bitter and untrue in parts of your soul. “I thought I could forget you, but I hate that I couldn’t. I hate that seeing you still—” Your voice cracked, a sob rising in your throat.

Baek-jin’s composure shattered at your sob. At last, he moved—not to stop your feeble blows, but to wrap his arms around you, crushing you to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he kept saying, a broken mantra. “I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to break you. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought… staying away would keep you safe.”

You struggled in his hold, your pride and anger telling you to push him off. But your body betrayed you; after a moment, you sagged against him, fists balled in his shirt as sobs wracked you. All the fight went out of you, replaced by a tidal wave of sorrow and yearning.

Through your tears, you heard him speaking in a rush, voice thick with emotion. “I left because I had to. The Union… it wasn’t just me. There were people above me—dangerous people. They knew about you, and I… I had to make it seem like I didn’t care. Like we were nothing. It was the only way to draw attention away from you and Baku.” He pulled back just enough to tilt your face up, holding you by the shoulders. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “I never abandoned you, not in my heart. Every day away from you was hell. I wanted to come back a better man, someone who could deserve you after making things right… But it took so long, and now—” His voice broke. “Now I’ve messed everything up all over again.”

You searched his face, trying to find any hint of deception. But all you saw was raw honesty and regret—so intense it left you breathless. Could it be true? Had he really stayed away to protect you? The thought was almost too much to bear. It would mean that his betrayal wasn’t as clear-cut as it seemed. That he still… loved you.

Your heart thundered at that possibility, even as your mind tried to hold onto anger. “You should have told me,” you whispered, tears still slipping free. “We could have found another way. Do you have any idea what it was like? Thinking you’d turned into a cold-hearted monster? That everything between us was just… thrown away?”

His forehead pressed to yours as he closed his eyes. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he confessed shakily. “Every day I wanted to find you, to tell you the truth. But I couldn’t risk it. By the time I took full control… so much time had passed. I didn’t know how to face you.” He drew in a ragged breath. “Then I heard Baku had been stirring trouble for some Union remnants and they targeted him tonight… I was going to warn him. I never wanted you caught in it. The thought of anything happening to you—” He let out a pained sound, unable to finish.

His anguish was palpable. And it was your name on his lips when he finally whispered, “I’m sorry,” once more, voice small and drenched in sorrow.

Something inside you gave way. Maybe it was the truth ringing through his words, or the way his arms trembled slightly as he held you, as if afraid you’d vanish. The anger that had shielded you for so long began to crumble, leaving only the aching love you’d never truly extinguished.

Tentatively, you raised a hand to his face. His eyes opened at your touch, wide and uncertain. You gently wiped away a tear that had escaped down his cheek. “You’re an idiot,” you said, a shaky half-laugh accompanying another tear of your own. “A noble, self-sacrificing idiot.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips at that, and a strained chuckle escaped him. “I guess I deserve that.”

Your fingers lingered on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin. It struck you how many nights you’d fallen asleep missing this—missing him. The rage and hurt hadn’t truly masked that emptiness, not completely. Now here he was, in the flesh, holding you like he’d never let go again, begging forgiveness with every fiber of his being.

Baek-jin seemed to sense the shift. His eyes flickered to your lips, and he unconsciously licked his own, a habit you remembered from when he was nervous. Both of you were still breathing hard, chests rising and falling in unison. The air between you crackled, much like it had that day by the roadside with the wildflowers, only now it was charged with years of pent-up longing and heartache.

Your heart gave one final, certain lurch, and you closed the distance. You kissed him—fiercely, angrily, passionately. A surprised sound escaped him against your mouth, but he responded instantly, wrapping his arms fully around you and pulling you up into the kiss as if his life depended on it.

It wasn’t gentle or careful like your first kisses years ago. This was a collision of lips and tongues and teeth, both of you pouring every ounce of frustration and love and regret into it. You tasted salt from tears—his, yours, you weren’t sure. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the way he was kissing you back, desperate and possessive. One of his hands tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the angle; the other slid down to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him.

A low moan rumbled from Baek-jin as the kiss grew frantic. You matched it with a whimper of your own, your fingers clutching at his shirt, then wandering upward to feel the solid planes of his chest and shoulders. Through the haze of desire, you felt him backing you up until the edge of the large wooden desk bumped the back of your thighs.

He broke the kiss first, both of you panting. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he searched your face. “Tell me to stop,” he rasped, voice rough with restraint even as his hands skimmed down your sides eagerly. “If you don’t want this… tell me now.”

Instead of answering, you grabbed his collar and pulled him back to your lips. “Don’t you dare stop,” you whispered against them, and then you were kissing him again.

That was all the permission he needed. With a sweeping motion of his arm, He knocked aside the papers that cluttered the desk behind you. The rustle and flutter of sheets scattering barely registered in your mind, overtaken by the sensation of his lips tracing hot, urgent kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

You gasped as he nipped at a sensitive spot on your collarbone. Your head fell back, and he took advantage, sucking at the hollow of your throat hard enough to surely leave a mark. The idea sent a thrill through you—after years apart, part of you wanted a visible claim from him, proof that this was real.

Your hands flew to his shirt, hastily working at the buttons. A few popped off in your frenzy, but neither of you cared. His shirt was soon shoved down his arms and discarded, revealing the toned torso you had clung to in youth and dreamed of in absence. There were new scars on his skin—faint marks on his ribs and one near his shoulder. You felt a pang at the evidence of the dangerous life he’d led, but it only fueled your desire to feel every inch of him, to reclaim what was once yours.

His hands weren’t idle either. He pushed off your lightweight jacket and yanked your blouse out of your skirt, fingers sliding beneath to find skin. He groaned when his palms met the curve of your waist, roaming up until his thumbs brushed the underside of your bra. In a swift move, he lifted you onto the edge of the desk. You automatically wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him closer between your thighs.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured against your lips between kisses, the confession pouring out as his fingers finally found the clasp of your bra beneath your blouse and unhooked it. “I missed this. Missed you… so much…”

You answered by tugging his head down and kissing him deeply, pouring all your yearning into the slide of your tongue against his. Your bra was peeled away and your blouse pushed open; he broke the kiss to glance down, and he swore softly at the sight of your bare breasts exposed to him. Without preamble, he dipped his head and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. You cried out, arching against him. The sensation shot straight through you, heat pooling between your legs.

Your fingers flew to his belt, fumbling. You needed him closer, needed him now. Baek-jin seemed to share the urgency. He straightened, chest heaving, and helped shove his belt open and pants down his hips. His erection sprang free, and despite the ferocity of the moment, your mouth watered at the sight of him—thick and hard and already weeping for you.

He grasped your skirt then, pausing only a second to catch your eyes, a silent question. You lifted your hips in response, and he yanked both your skirt and panties down in one rough motion. You kicked them off, not caring where they flew. The cool air against your damp center made you shiver with anticipation.

His gaze traveled hungrily over your naked form, now perched on his desk at his mercy. The reverence and raw lust in his expression made you feel powerful and desired beyond measure. You opened your legs wider, an invitation and a plea.

He let out a shuddering breath. “I’ll make this right,” he promised in a guttural tone as he positioned himself. His hands slid under your thighs, pulling you to the very edge of the desk. The broad head of his cock rubbed against your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. You both moaned at the tease of contact.

Unable to wait any longer, you locked your legs around his waist and urged him forward. “Baek-jin… please,” you begged, nails digging into his shoulder blades. “I need you.”

With a deep groan, he pressed into you, breaching your entrance in one slow, determined thrust. The stretch was intense; it had been so long since you’d taken him, taken anyone. Your gasp mingled with his curse of pleasure as he filled you completely, inch by inch, until his hips met yours.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. The fullness, the absolute rightness of him inside you again, left you both trembling. His forehead dropped to yours, sweat beading at his temples. “Oh fuck… you feel… incredible,” he panted, voice strained as if holding back from simply ravaging you.

“So do you,” you managed, breath hitching. Your walls fluttered around him, adjusting to the intrusion. The slight burn of the stretch only heightened your desire. You rolled your hips experimentally and both of you groaned at the friction.

That tiny movement seemed to snap the last of his restraint. With a growl low in his throat, he pulled almost all the way out, only to slam back into you. You cried out, the desk under your ass scraping an inch across the concrete floor from the force. He set a punishing rhythm then—hard, deep thrusts that made the desk shake and papers flutter to the ground.

It was nothing like your tender first time; it was raw and frenzied and fueled by years of loss. And it was perfect. Each drive of his cock stroked spots inside you that had you seeing stars. You clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and biting down on his shoulder to muffle your wails of ecstasy as he pistoned into you. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh, of his ragged breaths and your whimpers, echoed in the vast space.

Baek-jin angled his hips, and suddenly he was pounding that spot inside that made your vision white-out. “Right there—!” you sobbed, heels digging into his lower back to urge him even deeper.

He obliged, teeth gritted as he fought to maintain control. One of his hands left your thigh and snaked between your bodies. His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight, desperate circles. The additional sensation sent you reeling. Pleasure coiled viciously in your core, ready to explode.

His other hand cradled the back of your head, protecting it from knocking into the desk as he drove into you over and over. His eyes bored into yours, wild and adoring all at once. “Come for me, baby,” he grunted, voice barely holding together. “I’ve got you. I’m here… come for me.”

The rough endearment, the sound of his voice pleading for you, pushed you over the edge. With a scream of his name, you came undone. Your inner walls clenched and quivered around him, your entire body shaking as the orgasm tore through you with a force unlike any before. Tears of overwhelming relief and pleasure streamed from your eyes as wave after wave pulsed through your veins.

He cursed as he felt you tighten around him. His rhythm faltered, then he thrust erratically a few more times before burying himself to the hilt and letting go. “Oh, fuck—” A guttural cry tore from his throat as he found his own release, his cock throbbing deep inside you, warmth flooding the condom.

He collapsed against you, both of you a sweaty, tangled mess atop the desk. For a long moment, the world narrowed to the sound of your panting breaths and pounding hearts. You held each other tight in the aftermath, your fingers gently stroking the nape of his neck, his lips pressing soft, almost disbelieving kisses to your shoulder.

Gradually, reality seeped back in. The warehouse, the faint hum of traffic outside, the fact that you were naked and entwined in what amounted to Baek-jin’s lair. And somewhere out there, Baku was probably on his way, if those idiots had given him any hint.

As if on cue, you heard the distant slam of the warehouse’s big door and heavy footsteps. Your brother’s voice suddenly echoed through the warehouse, panicked and furious. “Where is she?!”

Your eyes shot up to Baek-jin’s in alarm. He immediately pulled out of you and helped you down from the desk. Legs wobbly, you nearly stumbled, but he steadied you, concern flashing across his sated features once more.

“Get dressed,” he whispered urgently. He was already yanking up his trousers and refastening them, not even bothering with the torn buttons of his shirt as he shrugged it back on.

The fog of passion cleared swiftly as adrenaline from earlier spiked anew. You grabbed your discarded blouse, shrugging it on and clumsily holding it closed over your chest. Your skirt was easier to slip back into, but your panties—you realized they were nowhere within reach, likely flung under the desk or across the room in the heat of the moment.

Before you could worry about it, Baku’s footsteps thundered closer. Baek-jin stepped protectively in front of you just as your brother rounded a column and came into view. Baku’s eyes were wild until they landed on you peeking from behind Baek-jin. Relief, then rage, contorted his face in the span of a heartbeat as he took in the scene—your disheveled state, Baek-jin’s half-open shirt, both of you clearly flushed and barely decent.

“What the fuck—” Baku roared. In two long strides he closed the gap and without warning swung a fist directly at Baek-jin’s face.

The punch connected, catching him on the jaw and sending him staggering back into the desk. You cried out in alarm and threw yourself in front of him arms outstretched to block any further blows.

“Move!” Baku snarled, trying to sidestep you, his fists still balled and ready. “I’m going to kill him!”

“Baku, stop!” you pleaded. “It’s not what you think—”

“Not what I think?! He touched you!” Baku’s face was a mix of betrayal and protective fury as he glared over your shoulder at Baek-jin. “I told you to stay away from her, you piece of—”

“It was consensual” you interjected desperately, cheeks burning at the admission but knowing you had to calm your brother down before this got out of hand. “ listen to me. I-I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me. I… I wanted it, alright?”

Baku looked utterly thrown, anger faltering with confusion. “You… what?” He looked between you and Baek-jin, who was now wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth but otherwise making no move to defend himself.

Tears pricked your eyes again, exhaustion and emotion making you tremble. “I still love him, Baku,” you said quietly, voice cracking. “I never stopped.”

Your brother’s eyes widened, and his raised fist slowly lowered as the weight of your words sank in. Silence hung thick in the air. Behind you, Baek-jin remained tense, ready to intervene if needed but allowing you to handle Baku.

After a tense beat, your brother swore under his breath and ran a hand through his hair, clearly torn. “Goddamn it,” he muttered, looking at the ceiling as if it would provide answers. He then leveled a hard stare at Baek-jin over your shoulder. “You,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “If you ever hurt her again—if you ever make her cry—I swear, no Union or gang or goddamn army will save you from me.”

Baek-jin, to your surprise, nodded immediately. “I won’t. I’d rather die than hurt her again.” The conviction in his words was unmistakable.

Baku grunted, clearly unhappy but no longer on the verge of violence now that he knew you were safe and consenting. He stepped back, scrubbing a hand over his face as adrenaline left him shaky too. “This is… I can’t deal with this right now.” He turned to you, softening slightly. “Are you okay, though? They took you… I was so worried.”

You crossed over to him and gave a reassuring nod. “I’m okay. They didn’t do too much besides scare and bruise me a little. Baek-jin got them to back off.”

Baku eyed Baek-jin again, skepticism evident, but he didn’t comment further on that. Instead, he gently took your hand. “We should go. Dad is freaked out at home; I called him when I realized you’d been taken.” His jaw tightened. “I… followed one of the punks here. Took him out by the gate. The others…?”

“Outside, likely nursing a fear of their boss’s wrath,” Baek-jin answered coolly.

Baku nodded. “Good. They’re lucky I didn’t run into them first.” He looked at you, concern returning. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Your heart wrenched at the thought of leaving Baek-jin so soon after finding him again, but you knew you had to go home and let your family see you safe. Still, you hesitated, glancing back at him. He stood there silently, a mix of longing and resignation on his face—like he wouldn’t hold you back, no matter how much he wanted to.

Impulsively, you stepped back to him one last time. His eyes widened as you reached up and gently wiped the bit of blood from his lip that Baku’s punch had caused. Then, softly so only he could hear, you whispered, “This isn’t over. I’ll see you soon.”

His hand covered yours for a brief moment, squeezing gratefully. A spark of hope lit in his gaze.

Feeling bold, and fueled by a need to leave him with a parting memory, you leaned up and pressed a quick, tender kiss to his lips. Baku made a noise of exasperation somewhere behind you, but you ignored it.

As you pulled away, you subtly slipped something from your hand into the pocket of Baek-jin’s trousers. A mischievous light danced in your eyes despite your swollen lip and tear-stained cheeks.

He looked down, puzzled, then realization struck. His ears burned red as he felt the lacy fabric of your panties now tucked discreetly in his pocket.

“A souvenir,” you murmured with a tiny smirk, echoing a playful confidence you hadn’t felt in years. “Until next time.”

He swallowed hard, a stunned, adoring smile curving his mouth. He nodded, apparently at a loss for words for once.

Satisfied, you turned and walked back to Baku, who was gaping at you both in disbelief and awkward embarrassment.

Without another word, your brother shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders—shielding you from the night air and perhaps shielding his eyes from seeing any more of you and Baek-jin’s intimacy.

Together, you and your brother made your way out of the warehouse. Just before exiting, you glanced back over your shoulder. Baek-jin stood by the lamp, watching you leave, fingertips pressed to his lips where your kiss still lingered. The soft light illuminated him in the darkness, and in his expression you saw it clearly: love, undimmed by time or trial, shining back at you.

You offered him a trembling smile—one he returned with that familiar gentleness that had always made you feel safe.

This wasn’t the end; you both knew it. There were many hard conversations and challenges still ahead. But as you stepped into the cool night with your brother by your side, you felt lighter than you had in years. In your heart, hope fluttered like a wildflower blooming anew in spring, resilient and bright. Whatever the future held, one truth burned clear: your story with Baek-jin was far from over.

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cravingcoldoreocake123 · 2 months ago

Text

What loyalty gets you

Pairing: Na Baek-jin x female reader x Geum Seong-je

Summary: After a brutal fight, Baek-jin rewards Seong-je’s loyalty by offering him the one thing he’s always wanted—his girl—for one night only.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, voyeurism, praise and degradation, power dynamics, possessiveness, jealousy, mentions of violence, mild emotional manipulation.

You swab gently at the gash on Baek-jin’s cheekbone, heart heavy with worry even as he sits still under your touch. The dim lamp in the corner of the apartment casts a low, golden glow over the cramped living room, illuminating the dried blood on his skin and the fresh bruises blooming along his jaw. It’s well past midnight by now, and the silence is thick—broken only by the quiet hiss of your breath and the occasional drip of antiseptic onto cotton. Each time you dab at his wound, his dark eyes stay trained on your face, unreadable but calm, as if your presence alone numbs the sting. You can feel the tension coiled in his muscles from the fight, see it in the rigid line of his shoulders, yet he softens just enough to let you tend to him. In this moment, he’s not the Union’s fearsome leader, he’s simply your Baek-jin, hurt and exhausted, leaning subtly into your careful touch.

Across the room, Seong-je lingers by the wall, watching in silence. You’re keenly aware of his presence—his heavy breaths still evening out from the adrenaline, the scrape of his shoe on the floor as he shifts his weight. He hasn’t said a word since the three of you staggered into the apartment after the brawl. He insisted that Baek-jin take the only armchair while you fetched the first-aid kit, and he’s been standing guard nearby as if the fight might burst through the door after you. You steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He’s got a split lip and a darkening bruise under one eye; blood mats a portion of his dark hair to his temple. But he seems oblivious to his own injuries. Instead, his gaze is fixed on you and your lover with an intensity that makes your skin prickle with heat.

You know that look. That look—hungry, almost predatory, yet reined-in by deference. He isn’t even trying to hide it at this point; his eyes follow the movement of your hands as you tilt Baek-jin’s chin to dab at a cut on his lip. You catch the faintest twitch in his jaw, the way his battered hands clench and unclench at his sides. In the quiet, you can nearly hear how his breathing deepens whenever your body leans closer to your man, as if he’s imagining himself in his place, receiving your gentle care. It sends a subtle thrill through you—a mix of power and excitement that pools low in your belly.

It wasn’t always this way. There was a time he barely met your eyes at all, treating you with a polite distance as “Baek-jin’s girl.” But somewhere along the line, things changed.

⸻

You remember the first time you caught Seong-je staring at you like he wanted you—truly wanted you. It was a few months ago, on another long night much like this one. Baek-jin had called a small gathering of his most trusted at a secluded rooftop to strategize union business. You had accompanied him, as you often do, lingering at his side while he delegated tasks in his cool, measured tone. The summer air was sweltering, humidity sticking your blouse to your back. You recall fanning yourself with a file and noticing him leaning against the ledge, eyes fixed not on his leader as usual, but on you.

At first, you thought you were mistaken. Seong-je was known for his brutality in fights and his unwavering loyalty, not for openly ogling women—certainly not his boss’s girlfriend. But that evening, in the haze of neon city lights, his gaze had wandered. When Baek-jin shrugged off his school blazer and rolled up his sleeves mid-discussion, you stepped forward instinctively to take the discarded jacket from his hands. It was a simple, familiar gesture. He rewarded you with a small nod of thanks, and you couldn’t help a fond smile in return. That’s when you felt it: a prickling awareness along your spine. Seong-je’s eyes were on you, dark and intent.

You glanced over and caught him squarely in the act. He didn’t look away. For a heartbeat, he held your gaze, and the raw yearning in his expression made your breath catch. It was as if the mask had slipped from his face. His eyes dipped, almost of their own will, tracing the curve of that smile still on your lips, then lower to the line of your throat where a sheen of sweat clung, then lower still—to the light swell of your breasts beneath your thin summer blouse. The air felt charged, heavy between you. A slow, hot flush crept up your neck at being looked at like that—like you were something to devour. And oddly, you didn’t feel offended. If anything, you were intrigued, heart thumping faster with an excitement you pretended not to recognize.

Then Baek-jin spoke again, pulling everyone’s attention back, and Seong-je finally tore his gaze away, face hardening back into impassivity. But you had seen the crack in his armor, however brief. That night, as you and your boyfriend walked home, you found yourself replaying his expression in your mind—the dark heat in his eyes, the way his lips had parted slightly as he watched you. You wondered if Baek-jin had noticed it too.

He had.

Later that same night, curled up in his bed, you mustered the courage to mention it. “I think your right hand was staring at me earlier,” you murmured. Your head rested on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

His fingers paused their soothing stroke through your hair for just a moment. “Mm,” he acknowledged noncommittally. But you heard a hint of something in that sound—amusement, perhaps. As if he wasn’t surprised.

You lifted your chin to study his face in the dark. “You noticed?”

His arm around your bare waist tightened subtly, possessively. “Hard not to,” he replied, voice low. A sardonic half-smile curved his lips. “He looked like a dog eyeing a steak right off my plate.”

A startled laugh bubbled from you at his analogy. It was crude, but not wrong. You expected him to be angry, or at least annoyed at his friend’s lapse in discipline. But instead, he just shook his head, a soft snort leaving him. “I can’t exactly blame him.” With that, he rolled over swiftly and pinned you beneath him, stealing your breath with a sudden, fierce kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes gleamed with a mix of pride and hunger. “You’re exquisite,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen bottom lip. “Any man with a pulse would look. Seong-je’s just particularly bad at hiding it.”

Heat flared in your cheeks. You arched a brow in playful challenge. “And you don’t mind? Should I start buttoning my blouses up to the neck around him?”

Baek-jin’s answering grin was sharp. “No. Let him look.” He lowered his head, teeth grazing your jaw as he growled, “He can look all he wants, as long as he knows you belong to me.” The claim in his voice sent a thrill through you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and surrendered to the possessive press of his body. That night, he took you rougher than usual, spurred on, perhaps, by the memory of his right-hand man’s persistent stare. And to your secret delight, at one point he actually mentioned Seong-je. As he drove into you, hand in your hair, he hissed against your ear, “This what he was fantasizing about? Seeing you like this? Too bad for him—” His fingers tightened on your hips, “—you’re mine.”

From then on, it became a private game—one you and your boyfriend played without ever explicitly planning it. If Seong-je was going to silently yearn, then you would give him something to yearn for. At first it was little things: you’d wear a skirt that was just a touch shorter on days you knew he would be around, or casually apply lip balm during meetings, noting how his gaze darted to the shine on your lips. You weren’t bare enough to be disrespectful—just enough to make his eyes linger and his throat bob as he swallowed hard. The real kicker was that Baek-jin encouraged it in his own subtle ways. He’d smirk knowingly when he caught the other man staring, or drape an arm over your shoulder in front of him, fingers idly playing with the ends of your hair—flaunting what Seong-je couldn’t have. It was all done under the guise of normalcy, but each shared glance between you and him carried the electric crackle of conspiracy. And each time you saw his composure slip—just for a split second, a flash of desire quickly masked by a blank face—you felt a heady rush of power… and, yes, arousal.

Once, you even made him blush. It had been raining and the three of you ducked into Baek-jin’s car. Soaked to the bone, you complained about the cold and he immediately offered you his jacket. In the back seat, pressed between the two men, you shed your wet blouse right then and there to shrug into Baek-jin’s dry jacket. It wasn’t meant to be a show—at least not entirely—but out of the corner of your eye you saw Seong-je’s neck snap rigidly forward, his ears turning red as he fixed his stare on the dashboard. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him when your bare shoulder brushed his arm in the cramped space. Later, when you recounted in a whisper how poor Seong-je had gone mute and red as a beet, your lover had laughed under his breath. He traced his fingers along the curve of your shoulder and murmured, “Maybe I should really give him something to blush about next time.” The mischievous gleam in his eyes left you speechless—and aching for him.

At the time, you thought it was just dirty talk, a little fantasy fodder for the two of you to spice things up. The idea that Baek-jin would ever share you for real seemed far-fetched. He was possessive to the core; even the thought of another man kissing you would normally have him seething. But with Seong-je, it was different. Seong-je was loyal, practically a trained attack dog at Baek-jin’s command. Perhaps that’s why he never saw him as a threat, even as he noticed the way his eyes devoured you. In his mind, you suspected, Seong-je would never dare betray him or cross that line without permission. And he was right— the boy never so much as uttered a flirtation your way. He kept his yearning on a tight leash, thinking no one could see. But you both saw. And in the privacy of your love, you and Baek-jin toyed with that knowledge mercilessly.

⸻

Now here you are, months later, with that very tension thrumming in the air, stronger than ever. As you finish taping a bandage over your lover’s cheek, you chance another look at Seong-je. He’s standing rigid in his corner, one shoulder braced against the wall, his hands now shoved into the pockets of his blood-stained school uniform pants. The cut on his lip has dribbled a thin line of crimson down his chin, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s too busy watching the delicate way you cradle Baek-jin’s face as you tend to him. There’s open longing there—raw and undisguised in this unguarded moment. Perhaps the exhaustion from the fight has lowered his defenses. Or perhaps he thinks neither of you can see him in the low light. Either way, his desire is plain as day to you.

And Baek-jin certainly notices too. A soft hum escapes his throat, drawing your focus. He’s been following your gaze; as you set aside the bloodied cotton, you see the hint of a smirk tug at his lips. His eyes flick past you toward his friend. Assessing. Even injured and tired, his mind is always working, plotting. You’ve learned to recognize that calculating spark in his expression—and it’s there now. He reaches up, capturing your wrist lightly before you can withdraw completely.

“You missed a spot,” he says, voice low and gentle. He guides your hand back to his mouth, to the cut on his lip. Obediently, you dab the last bit of dried blood from the corner of his mouth. His gaze remains locked on yours, but you know this performance is as much for Seong-je’s benefit as anything. Sure enough, from the corner of your eye you see Seong-je shift, taking half a step forward as if on impulse, maybe to offer help. He stops himself short. His hands jerk out of his pockets, then freeze at his sides, fingers flexing helplessly. The poor guy looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself—torn between duty and the ache drawing him toward you.

A sliver of compassion twists in your chest. He really gave everything tonight. The fight had been brutal—an ambush by a pack of some thugs intent on cornering Baek-jin. You remember the chaos: the flash of knives in the alley, the thunder of fists; your man and Seong-je back to back as dozens of them swarmed. Outnumbered, the two of them still fought like hell, protecting each other with near-suicidal resolve. If Seong-je hadn’t tackled that one guy who lunged at him with a steel pipe, his ribs might be shattered now… or worse. He took that blow instead, and many more. He’d bleed himself dry for Baek-jin’s sake—that much has always been clear.

You chew your lip, regarding Seong-je’s wounds again. The adrenaline of battle has long faded, and now he looks just tired and hurt, a man sagging on his feet. Under the smear of blood and dirt, his sharp features are drawn in fatigue. He catches you looking and quickly averts his eyes, as if embarrassed to be caught in weakness or in desire, you’re not sure which. Sympathy wins over your teasing impulses; you can’t in good conscience ignore him.

Gently, you extricate your wrist from Baek-jin’s hold and rise from your crouch at his feet. “Stay still, Jin,” you murmur to your boyfriend—using the tender nickname you’d never utter around others. Only Seong-je is here, and he’s family enough. “I’ll get you some water in a second.”

He tilts his head curiously as you stand. He doesn’t protest, simply leaning back in the armchair and watching as you cross the small space to where Seong-je stands.

He straightens up the instant you approach, eyes widening slightly. “You should sit,” you tell him softly. You nod toward the edge of the low coffee table. “Let me take a look at you.”

“I’m fine,” Seong-je rasps, his voice rough from hours of shouting and fighting. Up close, you can see the fine tremor in his arms from the comedown of adrenaline. His knuckles are split and raw, his white dress shirt spattered with blood—some his, some not. Stubborn as always, he insists, “It’s nothing. You don’t have to—”

“Sit,” you repeat firmly, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. His muscles tense under your touch, as if your fingertips sear him through the blood-soaked sleeve. For a second, he looks over your shoulder, toward Baek-jin, as if seeking permission. When Baek-jin gives a slight nod, he finally relents. He lowers himself onto the wooden table, wincing as he bends his bruised midsection.

“Good,” you say, offering an encouraging smile. You reach for the clean cloth in your hand, wet with antiseptic, and hold it up. “This might sting.”

His dark eyes flick to the cloth and then to your face. He swallows. “I’ve had worse,” he manages, attempting nonchalance. Yet when you step between his knees to get a better angle, he inhales sharply. You can tell it’s not pain that causes the reaction—it’s you, standing so close that your knees nearly brush against his thighs.

With a steadying breath, you take his chin in your free hand. His stubble scrapes your palm; he hasn’t had the chance to shave since yesterday. Tilting his face up towards the light, you inspect the damage. The cut on his bottom lip isn’t deep, but it’s still bleeding sluggishly. A purplish bruise is already swelling along his strong jawline. You gently dab at the blood on his lip, and he hisses softly through his teeth.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

He shakes his head minutely. “I’m okay.” But his voice comes out strained. His gaze darts upward, meeting yours. The air between you feels charged again, that familiar crackle intensifying with each brush of your hand. You clean the cut as best you can, conscious of how his breath is fanning warm across your wrist. He’s so close now; you can see a tiny faded scar across the bridge of his nose, catch the subtle scent of smoke and sweat clinging to him from the fight. His eyes are fixed on you unwaveringly, pupils dark and dilated.

You realize then that your positions have shifted the power dynamic, even if just for this moment. Here you are, standing over the gang’s most notorious enforcer, coaxing obedience out of him with a mere touch and a word, where others only get curt compliance through Baek-jin’s orders. His knees bracket your legs—whether intentionally or not, you’re effectively between his thighs. The proximity sends a flush through you. One of your hands rests on his chin, thumb just shy of his mouth; the other dabs at his lip carefully, slowly. It’s intimate, unmistakably so.

From behind you, you hear the soft creak of the armchair. Baek-jin shifts, but he doesn’t interfere. He simply watches. You can almost feel his gaze burning into your back. Is he amused? Protective? Or something else entirely? Your pulse quickens at the thought that this is turning him on—that seeing you tend to Seong-je, seeing him practically tremble under your gentle care, might be affecting Baek-jin in the same dark, twisted way it affects you.

“There,” you murmur as you finish cleaning his lip. It’s puffy and red, but at least no longer smeared with blood. Your hand lingers, fingertips unconsciously tracing the sharp line of his jaw where purple bruises bloom. “You should really put some ice on this.”

He doesn’t reply. He’s too busy searching your face, eyes roaming over every detail as if committing this rare closeness to memory. His chest rises and falls in shallow, controlled breaths. When your thumb sweeps lightly over his uninjured upper lip—wiping a last smudge of blood—his eyelids flutter, a tiny falter in composure that makes your stomach flip.

He wants to kiss you. The realization slams into you as powerfully as any fist from earlier tonight. You can see it in the way his gaze drops to your mouth, the way his tongue darts out just briefly to wet his own cracked lips. The tension between you spirals taut. For a crazy moment, you wonder what he’d do if you leaned in, closed that scant distance. Would he give in and press his lips to yours, damn the consequences? Would he finally take something for himself?

Your heart thuds. The mere thought of his mouth on yours sends a forbidden jolt of heat down your spine. You recall all the times you caught him staring, all the nights you imagined—privately, guiltily—what it would feel like if those intense eyes of his ever burned into you without restraint. Despite knowing it’s wrong, despite your unwavering devotion to your boyfriend , a part of you does wonder how Seong-je’s touch would feel. You’ve wondered ever since the teasing game began, and each time Baek-jin growled in your ear that you were his, some secret corner of your mind envisioned Seong-je roughly pinning you in some dark alcove, acting out those lustful looks in heated, stolen moments.

It was all fantasy, though. You never truly intended to cross that line. Neither did he—he wouldn’t dare betray Baek-jin. And Baek-jin… well, Baek-jin would never allow it.

Or so you thought.

You clear your throat, stepping back slightly to regain some equilibrium. His hands hover as if he had the urge to hold your hips when you were close but resisted. Now he settles for curling them into fists on his own thighs. “Thank you,” he mumbles, voice huskier than before.

You offer a small smile, trying to lighten the charged atmosphere. “We take care of each other, right?”

At that, his eyes flick past you again, toward where Baek-jin sits. “Of course,” he says quietly. “Of course we do.” There’s a world of promise in that simple statement. For both of you he would bleed himself dry, as he proved tonight.

Baek-jin’s voice cuts through the quiet, smooth and authoritative. “Seong-je.”

You both turn to look at him. He is leaning forward in the armchair now, forearms braced on his knees despite what must be sore ribs. His tie has been loosened, the first few buttons of his shirt undone where you had checked his chest for bruises. Even battered and bandaged, he exudes control. His eyes flick from Seong-je to you and back. In them, you detect not anger, but a contemplative darkness.

“You did well tonight,” he says. It’s simple praise, but in his world, such words are rare and precious. Seong-je straightens further, spine snapping taut with pride at his leader’s commendation. “You protected me without hesitation. Fought better than any ten of those bastards combined.” His lips curl faintly. “I owe you my life, perhaps.”

Seong-je immediately shakes his head, winces at the pain that movement causes, and bows it instead. “Just doing my job,” he grunts. “You know I’d do anything for you.” There’s a tremor of emotion in his voice—earnest, absolute truth. You believe it; your man believes it. Everyone knows his loyalty is ironclad.

Baek-jin regards his right-hand man for a long moment, fingers steepled as if considering something weighty. Then his gaze slides to you. A chill of anticipation skates over your skin at the look in his eyes. It’s the look of a man who has made a decision—a dangerous, irrevocable decision.

The next words that fall from his lips make your heart skip into your throat.

“I reward loyalty,” he says softly, leaning back. “And you’ve been nothing if not loyal.” He tilts his head, appraising the younger man before him. “You’ve bled for me. Time and again.” There’s an undercurrent to his tone that makes your pulse thrum. He is building up to something. You hold your breath without meaning to.

Seong-je frowns slightly, clearly unsure how to respond. “Seeing you safe is reward enough,” he says carefully. He means it too—ever the dutiful soldier.

Baek-jin chuckles—a low, dark sound. “Humility… fine. But I insist.” He pushes himself up from the armchair with a grunt, gingerly testing his balance. Immediately, you step forward on instinct to help, but he holds a hand up. He stands under his own power, if a bit stiffly. Even banged up, his presence looms large in the small living room. He’s only a couple of inches taller than the other man, but in this moment he seems to tower over both of you as he takes a few measured steps forward.

Your heart is hammering wildly now. Because you think you know what he’s about to say. You can sense it in the charged way his eyes meet yours—a silent question, a warning, and a promise all at once.

He stops in front of you and Seong-je. You realize you’re still standing between Seong-je’s knees, and he is facing the two of you like an appraising general. A mirthless smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “What kind of leader would I be,” he says lightly, “if I didn’t repay such devotion?”

Seong-je opens his mouth to protest that no reward is needed, but Baek-jin raises one finger, silencing him. The authoritative gesture makes him snap his jaw shut, obedient out of reflex.

A hot, nervous flush crawls over your skin. Is this really happening? Is he truly going to do what your gut says he will?

His hand reaches out and settles on your shoulder. His palm is warm and firm; the touch makes you realize how tense you’ve become. He gives the slightest squeeze, a reassurance and a claim all at once. Then, meeting your eyes, he speaks calmly, as if proposing something as simple as a change in plans. “Tonight… I’m giving you something special.” His gaze drifts from your face to Seong-je’s wide, disbelieving eyes. “You’ve been watching her for a long time, haven’t you?”

The air in the room evaporates. All the color drains from Seong-je’s face even as his cheeks flare red. “B-Baek-jin—” he starts, the stutter of panic and guilt obvious. His eyes dart to you in horror, then back to Baek-jin. “I— I never—”

“Don’t lie.” His voice is dangerously soft. He slides his hand from your shoulder to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair. The gesture is protective, possessive. You feel a faint shiver go through you at the show of dominance. “We’ve both seen it. The way you look at my girl.”

Seong-je’s throat works. He looks as though he might leap up and throw himself at Baek-jin’s feet in apology. “Respectfully.” he croaks, anguish threading through his tone. “I would never lay a hand on her—”

Baek-jin hushes him with a simple sound, a “tsk” of his tongue. “I know you wouldn’t. You’re far too loyal for that,” he says. Then, in a shocking turn, his lips curl into a true smirk. “But you forget—I don’t blame you for wanting to.” His hand on your neck slides around to cup your jaw, tilting your face upward. He leans in and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead. The tenderness of it makes your chest ache even through the storm of anxiety and excitement swirling inside you.

He pulls back slightly, his face now close to yours. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” he murmurs, almost in reverence, though the words are directed at Seong-je. You realize your entire body is trembling subtly beneath Baek-jin’s touch. Every nerve stands on edge.

Behind you, Seong-je releases a shaky breath. He doesn’t answer out loud, but the answer is plain in his eyes. He’s staring at you as if transfixed, the conflict on his face stark—guilt warring with desire and disbelief.

Your lover’s thumb strokes your cheek absently. You turn your head just enough to meet his gaze, silently asking if he’s truly sure about this. In response, he gives you an almost imperceptible nod. His eyes search yours, checking—always checking—that you trust him, that you’re okay. And God help you, you are. You are terrified and thrilled all at once. Your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest, but underneath the nerves, molten arousal is already unfurling. This is a line you never thought you’d cross in reality, but here you are, toes on the precipice, with Baek-jin himself offering to push you over.

His voice drops, thick with authority and something darker. “Tonight,” he declares, “Seong-je gets what he’s been craving.” He holds your chin firmly, eyes blazing into yours. “Tonight, I’m letting him have you.”

A soft gasp escapes your lips. Even knowing it was coming, hearing it said so bluntly is electrifying. You feel Seong-je jerk behind you as if struck. The silence that follows is thunderous.

He is first to break it, stumbling over his words. “Baek-jin… what are you—?” He looks at you, frantic and unsure, then back at his boss as if searching for any sign that this is a cruel joke or a test of loyalty.

He merely raises an eyebrow. “You heard me.” His tone is calm but carries an edge that says he won’t repeat himself. “One night. Just this once.” His fingers flex against your jaw, tilting your face slightly from side to side as if showing you off. “I’m feeling generous.”

Seong-je’s breathing has gone ragged. You glance at him over your shoulder; he’s shaking his head, eyes wide with disbelief and—yes—pure hunger that he’s struggling mightily to contain. “I can’t,” he rasps. Yet even as he says it, you notice his gaze dropping to your lips, your neck, the slope of your shoulders, like he can’t help himself. “She’s yours, I— I can’t…”

Baek-jin lets out a low laugh. “You can,” he corrects, almost cheerfully. “Because I’m telling you to. Consider it a reward. For everything.” His smile fades, replaced by a fierce seriousness. “Take it, or are you refusing my gift?” There’s a subtle challenge there.

“No, I—” Seong-je swallows hard. “I would never refuse you. I just… are you really ok with this?” His voice cracks on the last word, sounding so painfully vulnerable that your heart squeezes. He’s caught between loyalty and longing, afraid one will betray the other.

Baek-jin’s expression softens a fraction. He slides his hand from your jaw to the back of your neck again, then down along your spine in a slow caress. You unconsciously arch into his touch, your body responding to him automatically. He notices—of course he does—and his eyes darken with approval. He speaks, addressing Seong-je but also reminding you both who orchestrates this. “It’s okay. I’m in control.” A ghost of a smirk crosses his face. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Your knees nearly buckle at his words. I’m in control. Yes, he is—and paradoxically, that’s what makes you feel safe enough to go through with this insanity. You trust him with your life, with your heart, with your body. If he says this is okay, if he wants this to happen, then you will obey. Not just for him, but because deep down, beyond the layers of taboo and nerves, you want this too. The truth crashes over you with sudden clarity: you want to feel Seong-je’s touch, want to taste the forbidden desire you’ve stoked for months. And you want to see Baek-jin’s face as it happens, to know that he’s watching every second of it, owning it, owning you, even in this.

Heat floods between your thighs at the thought. You bite your lower lip, eyes flicking from your partner to his right hand. Both men are looking at you now—their attention combined is almost overwhelming, like standing in the center of a raging fire.

Baek-jin’s hand comes up to your chin, gently freeing your captured lip from your teeth. He runs his thumb over it, soothing the bite mark. “Baby,” he says softly, only for you to hear. The pet name sends warmth through you; he rarely uses such endearments, and when he does, it melts you. “Do you want this?” He searches your face intently. Even now, even holding all the power, he seeks your true consent.

Your throat is dry. Desire wars with anxiety inside you, but desire is winning by a landslide. You could say no—he would drop the idea in an instant if you showed the slightest discomfort. But you don’t want to say no. The aching dampness in your panties is evidence enough of your arousal, and the thrill pounding through your veins is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Still, your voice comes out a trembling whisper, laced with honesty, “I… I do. If you’re sure, Jin, I— I want it.”

He exhales, and you see something flicker in his eyes—a mix of pride and arousal and possessive satisfaction at your answer. “Good girl,” he praises quietly, the words rolling over you like honey. You nearly preen at the affirmation, cheeks heating.

Seong-je makes a strained noise, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, as if hearing Baek-jin call you that affected him too. You glance back at him; his face is flushed, chest rising and falling in quick pants now. He looks at you with open wonder, as though he can’t believe you agreed, can’t believe this is about to be reality.

Baek-jin steps aside, creating a space directly in front of Seong-je—and guiding you subtly into it. You turn fully to face him, your knees nearly brushing his again. He’s still seated on the low table, which positions you standing between his spread legs. The height is perfect—your hips level with his. Your heart leaps into your throat as you truly take in his expression: he looks like a man on the verge of madness, holding himself rigid to keep from reaching for you. There’s fear in his eyes—fear that one wrong move might shatter Baek-jin’s permission and end this before it starts.

Behind you, Baek-jin’s presence is a reassuring shadow. He hasn’t moved far; he’s just off to your right, close enough that you feel the heat radiating from him. You’re hyper-aware of every detail—the soft swish of his slacks as he shifts, the ragged way Seong-je exhales, the roaring in your own ears.

“Relax” Baek-jin says, almost kindly. He places a firm hand on your lower back, nudging you another half-step toward the trembling man on the table. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Seong-je’s eyes flick up to yours, tortured. “I never— I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh.” You surprise even yourself by raising your hand to press a finger against Seong-je’s lips, halting his faltering apology. His lips are warm and slightly chapped under your touch. He freezes, shocked into silence, eyes widening at your boldness. It’s the first time you’ve willingly touched his mouth—something deeply intimate about that realization sends a thrill along your arm. “We know,” you whisper, giving him a gentle smile. “We know.” That simple assurance holds volumes: we know how you feel, we’re okay with it, you’re not doing anything wrong now.

Slowly, you remove your finger from his lips. Seong-je’s breathing is shallow and fast; you can see the rapid thrum of his pulse at his throat. His hands hover uncertainly in the air near your hips, as if he wants to grab you but doesn’t dare.

You decide to make the first move. After all, Baek-jin’s given the green light, and he clearly needs another push to believe this isn’t some cruel mirage. You reach down and take one of his hands in yours. He inhales sharply, eyes darting to where your fingers entwine with his. His hand is larger, rough and calloused from countless fights, but it trembles in your gentler grasp.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, guiding his hand upward. You flatten his palm against your waist, just above the curve of your hip. His fingers twitch, then curl, gingerly holding you. Even through the fabric of your thin tank top, his touch feels hot, searing into your skin. “You can touch me.” The permission leaves your lips in a sultry murmur you barely recognize as your own voice.

He makes a strangled sound deep in his throat. He splays his other hand at your opposite hip, still moving as if any second he expects to be rebuked. When no rebuke comes—when instead Baek-jin hums in approval behind you—his grip firms, pulling you closer between his thighs.

The first press of his body against yours is exhilarating in its newness. Where Baek-jin is all coiled restraint and calculated strength, Seong-je feels like a barely contained storm—every muscle in him taut, trembling with need he’s denied himself for so long. He’s warm and solid and alive against you.

Your hands find his broad shoulders to steady yourself. “Hi,” you manage to tease breathlessly, a faint smile on your lips to ease his nerves.

A short, incredulous huff of laughter escapes him. “Hi,” he echoes, voice wrecked and disbelieving. His eyes roam your face like he’s seeing you clearly for the first time.

Baek-jin’s hand on your back slides up to the nape of your neck, fingers curling possessively around it. You feel him step closer, his chest almost touching your shoulder. When he speaks, his voice is liquid fire: commanding and dark. “Kiss her, Seong-je.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. The last thread of hesitation snaps. He surges forward, capturing your lips with a needy groan, years of pent-up desire pouring into that first kiss.

The force of it sends you stumbling back a half-step, but Baek-jin’s hand on your neck holds you steady, even as Seong-je’s hands now grip your hips tight. He kisses you like he’s starving, mouth hot and desperate against yours. The coppery tang of his cut lip mixes with the taste of him—smoke and spearmint gum and something distinctly him that makes your head spin. You gasp against his mouth at the sheer intensity. His tongue skims your lower lip, seeking entrance, and you part for him, a soft moan escaping as he delves inside, licking deep with a fervor that leaves you dizzy.

It’s not a refined kiss by any means—he’s clumsy with urgency, teeth clicking against yours briefly, breath ragged—but it’s so damned genuine it makes your knees weak. You feel his reverence in the way one of his hands slides up your back, bunching your shirt as if to pull you closer still, and in the almost broken whimper that vibrates in his throat when you tentatively suck on his tongue in welcome.

Behind you, Baek-jin’s fingers tighten on your neck. “That’s it…” he murmurs approvingly, his breath ghosting hot at your ear. He hasn’t touched him, but his presence is all around, an unseen puppeteer guiding the strings of this encounter. “How does she taste, Seong-je?”

He tears his mouth from yours at the question, panting. His eyes flutter open, glazed with lust. For a moment he looks embarrassed, but then, locking eyes with Baek-jin over your shoulder, he answers in a voice hoarse with honesty, “Sweet… fuck, she tastes so sweet.” His fingers flex at your waist as if emphasizing the point.

A dark, pleased chuckle rumbles from Baek-jin. “Good.” He brushes your hair aside and, to your surprise, presses a kiss just below your ear. You shiver, caught between two flames now—the heat of Seong-je’s desire and the simmering dominance of your boyfriend at your back. “Don’t be gentle,” he purrs, though who he’s talking to, you’re not certain. Maybe both of you. “She likes it rough.”

A whimper escapes your throat at his lewd encouragement. He isn’t wrong—you do like it rough, a fact Baek-jin has taken full advantage of in your personal life. But hearing him tell Seong-je that, essentially giving Seong-je permission to unleash himself on you, sends a bolt of raw lust straight between your legs.

Seong-je’s eyes search yours at Baek-jin’s words, as if seeking confirmation. His face is still mere inches from yours, his lips red and slick from your kiss. You nod almost imperceptibly, voice trembling but sure: “It’s okay. I… I won’t break.” A teasing glint sparks in your eye despite the shakiness in your limbs. “Don’t hold back.”

Something primal flashes across his face. He grits his teeth, and for a beat you think he might actually cry from sheer relief and desire. Instead, with a low growl, he swoops in to claim your mouth again—this time even more ferocious. You gasp into the kiss as he stands from the table in one fluid motion, arms banding around you. The sudden movement startles you, but Jin’s hand stays firm on your nape, keeping you grounded.

Now Seong-je is towering over you, one arm around your lower back pressing you flush to his front. You feel every hard line of him: the ridges of muscle beneath his battered shirt, the pounding of his heart, and lower—oh. Oh. A thick bulge straining against his pants, grinding against your stomach as he pulls you into his hips. The realization of how aroused he is sends a hot flood of moisture to your core. You can’t help it; you roll your body subtly against that hardness, a tiny mewl muffled by his lips.

“Fuck,” Seong-je hisses at the friction. He breaks the kiss, breathing hard. Without warning, he ducks his head and latches his mouth onto your neck, sucking and biting with an unrestrained hunger. You cry out, head tipping back. Pain sparks where he nips at your sensitive skin, but it only fuels your desire. He soothes each bite with his tongue, then moves to mark a new spot, clearly intent on leaving evidence of himself on you.

Your eyes flutter open in the haze of sensation—and meet Baek-jin’s steady gaze inches away. He hasn’t moved from your side. If anything, he’s drawn closer. You’re effectively sandwiched: Seong-je’s broad form in front of you, Baek-jin’s solid presence to your right, curving slightly behind. His hand on your neck tilts your head his way, exposing more of your throat to Seong-je’s ravenous mouth. But Baek-jin’s eyes remain locked on yours. They are dark, nearly black with arousal. Yet beneath that, you see a flicker of emotion—control, possession, and a flicker of pride. Pride at how you moan, at how Seong-je groans against your skin as he feasts on you.

It’s all too much and not enough. Your hands claw at Seong-je’s back, needing more contact. “Jin…” you whimper, not even sure what you’re pleading for—maybe reassurance, maybe more.

Baek-jin’s response is to claim your mouth in a sudden, searing kiss of his own. You gasp into his lips, not having expected it. He hasn’t kissed you since this began; the shock of it now—right in front of Seong-je—sends your mind reeling. This kiss is different from Seong-je’s. Baek-jin’s lips move against yours with confidence and ownership, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with yours in a show of dominance. He tastes of copper from the cut on his lip and the familiar bitterness of black coffee that he downed earlier after the fight, and underlying it all, the taste that is uniquely him—intoxicating and addictive. You whine softly as he steals your breath, his fingers tightening in your hair.

Seong-je’s mouth stills at your neck as he realizes what’s happening. He pulls back just enough to watch. You can feel his panting breaths against the damp marks he left on your skin. The low curse he utters tells you he’s witnessing Baek-jin kiss you, and it’s turning him on. Baek-jin keeps kissing you deeply, almost as if reminding both of you that he is the one you belong to—this kiss a stark contrast to the ones you just shared with Seong-je. It leaves you lightheaded and clinging to the front of Baek-jin’s shirt with one hand to stay upright.

When Baek-jin finally pulls away, your lips are tingling, swollen from the combined force of two men’s passion. He runs a thumb over your bottom lip, smirking as it comes away red with the smear of your lipstick and a tiny dot of blood from where either Seong-je or he bit you. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, possessive satisfaction dripping from the word.

Seong-je’s hands flex on your waist, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes are half-lidded, fixated on your mouth and the string of saliva that briefly still connects you and Baek-jin. He looks utterly wrecked by the sight: the two people he most obsessively devotes himself to, kissing each other fiercely right in front of him. And now that same mouth—your mouth—is turned back toward him, inviting him to claim it once more.

You give him a sultry, reassuring look. The desire blazing in his expression has burned away any last hesitance. When you lean toward him, he meets you eagerly, crashing his lips to yours with a groan. The kiss is hungry and messy; he sucks on your tongue, then your lower lip, as if trying to consume you. A growl vibrates deep in his chest, the vibration transferring to you and making you whimper.

While he devours your mouth, Baek-jin’s hands start to wander. He slides the hand at your nape down along your spine, over the curve of your ass. With a swift motion, he gathers the fabric of your skirt—oh, when had your skirt ridden up so high? You only notice now that his fingers are skimming the bare skin of your upper thigh. He rucks the skirt up to your waist in the back, exposing your panties to the cool air. Instinctively, you tense, breaking the kiss with Seong-je in a gasp. You glance around in surprise—somehow it hadn’t fully registered that in all your teasing foreplay, you’re still largely clothed .

Baek-jin looks down at the expanse of your ass now on display and hums appreciatively. “These are cute,” he remarks, snapping the waistband of your black lace panties against your skin lightly. “But they’re in the way.”

Before you can respond, you hear the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing. Your heart stutters—he has hooked his fingers into the delicate lace and simply torn your panties apart at the seam with one harsh tug. The shredded remains fall from your hips, fluttering to the floor.

A shocked moan escapes you, both at the sudden exposure and at how blatantly filthy it was for him to rip them off. The slight sting of the elastic snapping against your skin only heightens your arousal. You’re naked under your skirt now, bare and wet and throbbing.

“Fuck,” Seong-je curses, voice thick as he stares down. He can’t see everything from the front, but he definitely saw Baek-jin toss aside the torn scrap of lace that was your underwear. The realization that only a thin skirt separates him from your most intimate parts has his eyes turning nearly black with lust.

You instinctively press your thighs together at the sudden exposure, but Baek-jin’s knee nudges between them from behind, forcing them slightly apart. “Don’t hide, babe,” he murmurs into your hair. “Not tonight.”

One of Seong-je’s large hands abandons your waist to slide down, fingers trembling as they brush the front hem of your skirt. Hesitantly, he lifts it, and your breath hitches as you permit him to see. A strangled noise tears from his throat when he realizes just how wet you are. The dim light catches the slick shine on your inner thighs. You flush with embarrassment and excitement—there’s no hiding how aroused this has made you.

He drags his fingertips up your thigh, tracing through the moisture there in awe. “She’s… soaking,” he reports in a ragged whisper, as if Baek-jin might not believe it without confirmation.

Your boyfriend groans softly behind you. “I can see that.” He slides his hand around your hip, then down between your legs from behind, cupping your sex possessively. Two of his fingers slip between your folds, spreading them. You jolt, a gasp catching in your chest as he deliberately exposes your most sensitive flesh to the cool air—and to Seong-je’s ravenous eyes. “Look how ready she is for you,” he practically purrs, running his fingers through your slick without mercy. He doesn’t enter you—just glides them back and forth, gathering your arousal and presenting it. “This all for him, baby?” he asks, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

You choke on a moan as his fingertips circle your clit teasingly. “I—it’s f-for both of you,” you manage to whimper. “I… I can’t help it.”

Seong-je looks like a man on the verge of losing any shred of sanity. Watching Baek-jin touch you so intimately, hearing the wet sounds of your arousal on his fingers—he’s transfixed. His own hand has moved of its own accord to join Baek-jin’s. Tentatively, Seong-je brushes the backs of his fingers over your bared mound, feeling the slickness there. When he makes contact with your swollen clit, you keen, thighs trembling.

Baek-jin withdraws his hand, leaving you to Seong-je’s touch. “Go on,” he urges lowly. “Make her feel good. She’s yours to please tonight.”

If his words are meant to encourage Seong-je, they succeed. Seong-je slides off the table to kneel on the floor in front of you in one swift movement, ignoring any pain it causes his battered body. Suddenly, you have the Union’s most feared member on his knees, face level with your hips—and the sight is utterly intoxicating to all three of you.

You can hardly breathe as Seong-je’s hands firmly grip the backs of your thighs, just below your ass. He nudges your legs further apart, eyes flicking upward to meet yours briefly. His pupils are blown, face flushed; he looks almost worshipful and utterly depraved at once. “Tell me if… if I go too far,” he says, voice rough and trembling with restraint. It’s clear he’s on the brink of devouring you alive.

You bite your lip and nod, sliding a hand into his hair without realizing. His hair is damp with sweat, silky between your fingers. You tug gently, and the last thread of his resolve snaps.

With a guttural groan, he buries his face between your thighs. His broad shoulders push your legs further open as he presses in. The first hot swipe of his tongue against your cunt has you crying out, hips jerking forward. He licks a broad stripe through your folds, tasting you properly, and the feral noise he makes against your flesh sends vibrations thrumming into you.

“Oh God—” you gasp, hand tightening in his hair. The sensation is overwhelming; he’s licking and sucking with no hesitation now, as though he can’t get enough of your taste. He closes his lips around your clit and suckles, and your knees nearly give out. Only his strong grip on your thighs (and Baek-jin’s steadying arm that quickly circles your waist from behind) keeps you upright.

Baek-jin curses softly near your ear. “That’s it… eat her pussy good.” he encourages filthily. His crude words make you moan louder. His lips find your neck, kissing and nibbling at the marks Seong-je left earlier. All the while, his arm around your middle holds you firm, like an anchor in this tempest of sensation.

Seong-je devours you like a starved man. He alternates between plunging his tongue into your entrance—fucking you with it with sloppy eagerness—and sucking your sensitive clit between his lips until you’re seeing stars. The room echoes with the wet, obscene sounds of him lapping at you, slurping up every drop of your arousal as if it’s ambrosia.

Heat coils and tightens low in your belly at a breakneck pace. You realize with a thrill of disbelief that you’re hurtling toward orgasm embarrassingly fast—his raw enthusiasm and skill (however unpolished) are undoing you. It’s never been this quick for you normally, but the cocktail of circumstances—his mouth, Baek-jin’s voice and hands, the sheer depravity of being shared—has your body hurtling to the edge.

Baek-jin seems to notice, because he releases your neck and moves that hand down to join the fray. His fingers find your clit just as Seong-je’s tongue spears deep inside you, and he rubs in tight, knowing circles, effectively teaming up to destroy you. “Go on, baby,” he murmurs in your ear. “Come on his tongue. Let him taste how sweet it is when you cum.”

His words push you over the precipice. With a wail, you shatter. Pleasure detonates, radiating out from your core in violent, ecstatic waves. Your thighs clamp around Seong-je’s head as you buck against his face, your hand fisting in his hair. He growls in delight and holds you in place, latching onto your clit to prolong your climax, licking and sucking frantically as you writhe.

White-hot ecstasy surges through every nerve. Your vision whites out; you’d collapse completely if not for Baek-jin supporting you against him. You hear him whispering praise—“That’s my girl… so fucking gorgeous when you cum…”—his voice thick with arousal. And beneath that, Seong-je’s labored groans as he drinks you down, evidently in heaven as you soak his mouth and chin with your release.

It feels endless and all too brief at once. Gradually, the convulsions subside. You slump back against Baek-jin’s chest, panting, little aftershocks making your muscles twitch. Seong-je finally eases up, releasing your oversensitive flesh from his relentless mouth. He rests his forehead against your lower belly, still holding your trembling thighs. Both of you are catching your breath.

He’s panting as hard as if he ran miles, and when he pulls back enough for you to see him, the sight is downright debauched: his face is glistening with your arousal, lips swollen and chin wet. His eyes are heavy-lidded, utterly drunk on you. “So good…” he mumbles hoarsely, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, almost in gratitude. “You taste… fuck.”

His unabashed reverence sends a flush of pleasure through you. Instinctually, you stroke his hair, brushing damp strands back from his forehead. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes briefly as if starved for that affection.

“Enjoying yourself?” Baek-jin asks, voice laced with dark humor. You feel the hard evidence of his own enjoyment pressing against your back—he’s rock solid beneath his slacks. The fact that he got fully hard just from orchestrating this, from watching his friend ravish you, makes you clench with renewed need.

Seong-je tilts his head up to look at Baek-jin. Some of the nervousness returns to his expression as he wipes the back of his hand across his wet mouth. “Yes, boss,” he says quietly, respectfully, though his voice still shakes with lingering hunger. “Thank you… that was…” He trails off, apparently unable to find words for what that meant to him.

Baek-jin’s hand pets over your belly, then lower, making you jolt as he cups your still-sensitive sex possessively. “She’s delicious, isn’t she?” he says, almost conversationally, but there’s an unmistakable pride there—as if he deserves credit for how good you taste.

Seong-je’s gaze drops to where Baek-jin’s fingers are now lightly playing through your soaked folds once more. His tongue peeks out to lick his lips, as though he can’t get enough of your flavor. “Yes,” he admits roughly. “She is.” The way he says it—almost reverently—makes you keen in embarrassment and arousal.

His chest vibrates with a pleased growl behind you. “Stand up, Seong-je,” he orders, a hint of anticipation in his tone. “You’ve earned a bit more than just a taste, haven’t you?”

Seong-je obeys instantly. He rises from his knees, wiping his slick chin with the back of his hand. As he stands to full height, you’re suddenly very aware of how imposing he is—broad shoulders and lean muscle, his chest heaving beneath that open school shirt speckled with blood. There’s something wild in his eyes, even as he stands awaiting further instruction. And then there’s the not-so-small matter of the straining tent at the front of his trousers.

Your eyes drop almost involuntarily, and your breath catches. The outline of his erection presses hard against the dark fabric, looking almost painfully constrained. A rush of heat floods you at the realization that you’re about to feel that inside you.

Your boyfriend follows your gaze and clicks his tongue. “That looks uncomfortable.” The teasing lilt in his voice makes your cheeks burn. “Why don’t you help him out, darling?” He releases you from his supporting arm and steps aside, allowing you to move freely. “On your knees,” he adds, a razor’s edge of command under the smooth words.

Your stomach flips at what he’s suggesting. You drop to your knees on the carpet without hesitation, settling in front of Seong-je’s feet. He sucks in a breath, and his hands flex at his sides as if unsure where to put them. Eye level with his hips now, you reach up with trembling fingers to unbuckle his belt. The metal clasp is sticky with half-dried blood, and it takes a moment to undo with how your own hands are shaking in anticipation.

He looks down at you with astonishment and raw desire. “You don’t have to, doll.” he begins, voice strangled, but Baek-jin cuts him off.

“She wants to,” Baek-jin drawls, confidence in every syllable. He slides to sit on the edge of the armchair directly to your right, clearly deciding to enjoy the show from a more comfortable position. “Don’t you, baby?”

You glance to him. He’s leaning back, one hand lightly massaging the obvious bulge in his slacks as he watches you and his right hand. The sight of Baek-jin palming himself through his pants while he observes you preparing to suck another man’s cock—at his own command, no less—makes you whimper aloud. Your thighs rub together unconsciously. Turning back to Seong-je, you unzip his trousers with a slow, deliberate pull. “I do,” you answer finally, looking up at Seong-je from under your lashes. “I want to taste you.”

Seong-je curses under his breath, hips instinctively canting forward. You tug his pants and underwear down in one go, and his cock springs free, nearly smacking your cheek. You gasp softly, eyes widening at the sight before you. He’s… big. Not that you hadn’t expected it—he is built like a brawler after all, tall and muscular—but the rigid length in front of you exceeds what you’d guessed from touch alone. Long, thick, curving slightly toward his stomach, flushed dark at the swollen tip and already leaking a bead of moisture. A subtle musky scent hits your nose, masculine and intoxicating.

“Holy shit,” you breathe in awe, your tongue instinctively wetting your lips. You hear Baek-jin chuckle softly at your reaction.

Seong-je looks almost bashful for a split second, as if he’d apologize for his size, but any words die as you reach up and wrap your small hand around the base of his cock. His girth strains your fingers; he’s like heated steel wrapped in velvet. He groans, a deep animalistic sound, as your hand gives a gentle experimental stroke upward. The slick of his precum helps glide your hand, and his cock twitches in your grasp.

“Is it to your liking?” Baek-jin asks, mocking politeness, as if asking about a dish he suggested you try. You turn your head to respond and find his gaze laser-focused on the sight of you kneeling with Seong-je’s cock in hand. He looks ravenous, lips parted slightly as he breathes a little faster.

In response, you lean forward and swirl your tongue over the bead of precum on Seong-je’s tip, collecting it into your mouth. It’s salty, male, not unpleasant. You hum at Baek-jin, “Mmm.” Then you flash him a wicked little smirk and say, “Delicious.”

His eyes darken further. “What a polite girl,” he muses, voice thick with arousal. “Showing your gratitude so sweetly.”

Seong-je can barely stand still. His hands hover near your head, as if itching to grab your hair but not daring to without permission. “P-please…” he whispers, directing it to either you or your lover or both, you’re not sure. His thighs tremble with the effort not to thrust into your fist.

You decide to put him out of his misery. Maintaining eye contact with Baek-jin for a bold moment—because you know it drives him wild—you finally turn fully to the task and take Seong-je’s cock into your mouth.

You start slow, wrapping your lips around the sensitive head and sucking gently. The taste of him floods your tongue. He chokes out a broken moan, his hips jerking involuntarily. Encouraged, you bob a little further, taking more of him inch by inch. Your jaw stretches wide to accommodate his girth, but you relish the slight ache. One hand pumps the base that you can’t fit yet, and your tongue presses along the underside of his shaft on each forward motion.

“Fuck, fuck…” he chants under his breath. Unable to resist, he entangles one hand in your hair, not pushing, just holding on as if to ground himself from the pleasure. His other hand grips the arm of the couch beside him, knuckles white.

Baek-jin’s voice slides over you like silk. “How does her mouth feel?”

Seong-je groans, eyes squeezed shut as if he might lose control just from the memory of not speaking dirty. “So warm… so fucking good. So—ah—tight and wet.” His breathing is ragged. “Better than I—fuck—ever imagined.”

A rush of pride courses through you at his babbling. Hollowing your cheeks, you take him deeper, swallowing around his tip as it nudges the back of your throat. He outright curses, his fingers tightening in your hair. Tears prick your eyes from the effort, but you don’t let up. You begin a steady rhythm: suck, swirl your tongue around the head, then slide down as far as you can manage before pulling back. Saliva gathers at the corners of your mouth, dripping down to your hand and his shaft, slicking your strokes. The lewd, wet sounds of your slurping fill the room along with his uncontrolled grunts.

“Look at you,” Baek-jin murmurs appreciatively. You flick your eyes up to see him palming himself harder through his pants, clearly restraining his own needs while he watches. “Taking his cock like a good little slut.” The degradation in his tone is deliberate and it makes you whine around Seong-je’s length, the vibration drawing a strangled cry from above. You love when he talks to you like that, and he knows it. It sends a pulse of arousal straight to your core.

“S-shit—she is,” Seong-je gasps, echoing Baek-jin’s words without thinking. “Such a slutty mouth… so perfect…” He looks down then, meeting your gaze, his eyes blown wide with lust and adoration. “Your mouth is perfect,” he says more softly, brushing a thumb over your cheek where a tear of effort escaped. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.” The raw sincerity in his tone melts you, and you reward him by taking him even deeper, straining your throat until you gag lightly around him.

“Christ!” he snarls, head falling back. “I-I’m close—”

“Stop.” Baek-jin’s command cuts through the haze immediately. You and Seong-je both react on instinct; you freeze, and he stills his hips, though every muscle in his body is taut and quivering with the need for release.

You slowly, reluctantly ease your mouth off his cock, releasing it with a lewd pop. You’re panting hard, saliva trailing from your swollen lips to his slick length. He whimpers at the loss of your warmth. His cock is throbbing angry-red, so wet with your spit it gleams. A string of saliva still connects the tip to your lower lip, and you quickly lick it up, which makes his cock twitch again.

He looks wrecked, like he might cry with frustration. “B-Baek-jin,” he pleads, voice wrecked and desperate. “Please…”

Baek-jin merely smiles that wolfish smile. “Not yet. I didn’t say you could cum, did I?” His tone is almost playful, but holds steel underneath. Seong-je shakes his head, chest heaving, trying to regain control. He still hasn’t moved his hand from your hair, as though afraid letting go will mean this all ends.

“As hard as it is to believe,” Baek-jin continues wryly, “that was not the main event.” He stands up from the chair now, coming to stand beside you. With gentle but firm pressure on your shoulder, he urges you back to your feet. Your knees are a bit numb from the floor, and you wobble. Baek-jin steadies you, then pulls you flush against his side. “You did well,” he praises quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Seong-je watches the tender gesture with longing, chest still rising and falling rapidly. His cock juts out from his open pants, slick and quivering, neglected for the moment.

Baek-jin follows your gaze to Seong-je’s predicament and smirks. “Don’t worry. We’re not done.” He guides you back a step. Then, taking you by the shoulders, he turns you around to face the armchair. In one swift motion, he pushes you forward, bending you over the arm of the padded chair. You gasp, gripping the seat cushion to brace yourself.

You’re now bent at the waist, your ass facing Seong-je and your upper body supported by the chair. Your skirt, which was already rucked up around your waist, is no hindrance at all—your bare ass and soaked pussy are presented to the open air.

Baek-jin’s hand caresses down your spine soothingly. “Comfortable?” he asks, almost casually. The velvet of the armchair presses against your cheek as you nod. You wiggle your hips a little, silently begging for what’s next.

Seong-je makes a tortured sound somewhere behind you. “Oh, fuck me,” he groans at the sight of you bent over, practically dripping for him. “Please, Baek-jin… I—?”

Baek-jin cuts him off with a dark chuckle. “Yes, I think it’s time.” He steps aside then, allowing Seong-je a full, unobstructed view of you. “There you go, Seong-je. She’s all yours. One night only.”

You peer over your shoulder, desire making your limbs tremble with anticipation. Seong-je stands a couple feet away, looking almost afraid to approach, as if you’re some mirage that will disappear. His cock is still out, flushed and hard and so ready it almost hurts to look at.

Baek-jin notices his hesitance and adds in a low, warning tone, “This is what you wanted. Now take it.” A beat, and then, “Fuck her.” The vulgar command sends a thrill shooting through you straight to your core.

That does it. He surges forward with a growl, both hands coming to grip your waist from behind. His touch is rough and feverish, fingers digging into your flesh as if to assure himself you’re real. You push back against him instinctively, raising your hips a little higher, presenting yourself for the taking.

“God, you’re perfect,” Seong-je pants. His hands roam over your ass, squeezing, then sliding down to your soaked center. With one hand, he spreads your lips, groaning at the sight of your cunt clenching on nothing. “So wet… Was this all for me?” He sounds genuinely astonished.

You manage a breathless laugh. “Yes, … all for you.” Your voice comes out needy as hell. “Please, I need you. Inside me.”

“Fuck,” he swears softly. One of his fingers dips into your entrance, gliding in easily from how embarrassingly slick you are. He pumps it a few times, and you moan, pushing back, wanting more. He adds a second, stretching you, and the slight burn feels divine. “You’re so tight,” he rasps, as your walls grip around his fingers. “How are you this tight…?”

Baek-jin’s voice comes from somewhere to your right, tight with lust. “She can take it.” There’s a hint of a smirk in his tone. “Believe me, she can take it all.”

Your cheeks burn at the implication, but it only makes you more eager to prove him right. “I can,” you moan, echoing Baek-jin’s words. You twist to glance back at Seong-je. “I want you. Fuck me hard, Seong-je… I—I can take it, I promise.”

Whatever shred of control he had been clinging to snaps. He withdraws his fingers abruptly, grabbing your hips in both hands. You feel the hot, blunt tip of his cock prod against your entrance, sliding through your folds to coat itself in your arousal. The sensation makes your breath hitch. He’s shaking slightly; you can feel the tremor in his grip on you.

Baek-jin steps closer to the chair, wanting the best view. He places a hand on your upper back and presses you down a little more, arching your spine deeper. “Keep your eyes on me, love,” he tells you. You turn your head to the side, meeting his gaze as best you can from your bent position. His face is flushed, hair falling into his eyes. He looks utterly enthralled, chest rising and falling with quick breaths. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Eyes on me while he fucks you.”

You nod hazily, locking onto Baek-jin’s intense stare. This is the moment you’d all been building to, and your man doesn’t want to miss a flicker of your expression.

Behind you, Seong-je lines himself up, the tip pushing insistently at your entrance. “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?” His voice is a shaky whisper, as if asking your permission even now.

“Do it,” you breathe, needing him so badly it hurts. “Fuck me, Seong-je.”

With a strained groan, he presses forward, and the thick head of his cock breaches you. Even as wet and prepared as you are, the stretch is intense, bordering on pain. He’s larger than your body expected, and your walls protest the sudden intrusion with a burn that quickly melts into fierce pleasure.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry; Baek-jin’s hand on your back soothes gently, but his eyes blaze with excitement at seeing you take Seong-je’s cock. He inches forward, sinking in slowly, inch by inch. His fingers tremble on your hips, sweat dripping from his brow onto your lower back. “Oh, fuck—” he grits out. “So… damn… tight.”

You feel every bit of him as he fills you, the pressure incredible. He pauses halfway, chest heaving. “Are you okay?” he manages, voice tight as a bowstring.

You nod frantically, pushing your hips back to encourage him further. “Yes… more… please…” The pain of the stretch has already transformed into a white-hot pleasure that radiates through your abdomen.

With a guttural moan, he thrusts the rest of the way in, bottoming out inside you. You both cry out as his hips smack against your ass. The feeling of fullness is overwhelming—you feel like you’re being split in two and yet you crave it desperately. He’s buried to the hilt, throbbing deep inside you.

“Shit!” His shout echoes as he stills, completely embedded. “You’re— I can’t— fuck, you’re squeezing me so much,” he gasps, voice wrecked. You can feel his thighs quivering against yours, the restraint it’s taking him not to cum immediately from the tight heat of your cunt enveloping him.

Your fingers claw at the cushion of the chair as you adjust to his size, nails digging into the fabric. “So… big,” you whimper, the fullness bordering on too much, but deliciously so. Your body flutters around him, trying to accommodate.

Baek-jin’s hand strokes down your hair, gentle in contrast to the feral act. “You’re doing so well,” he purrs. “Taking all of him. Such a good little slut for us, hm?”

His degrading praise sends a rush of arousal straight to your core, and you clench involuntarily around Seong-je.

“Jesus,” he chokes, his fingers flexing on your hips. “C-can I move? Please… I can’t—” His voice is strained, pleading.

“Yes,” you and Baek-jin say at the same time, though his tone carries the weight of permission. “Fuck her,” he reiterates, low and rough.

Seong-je pulls out halfway, the drag of his cock along your slick walls making you both moan, then he thrusts back in, harder this time. The force knocks a grunt from your lungs and shoves the armchair a couple inches forward on the floor. “Ohh—!” you cry out, pleasure and a sweet burn mixing as he sets a tentative rhythm.

He pumps in and out shallowly at first, each movement sending sparks of sensation dancing up your spine. With every thrust, a lewd squelch of your soaked pussy fills the air, evidence of just how absolutely drenched you are for him.

“Faster,” you beg, meeting his next thrust by rocking back. The initial ache has given way to pure bliss, your body craving more. “Fuck me harder, Seong-je… please…”

Groaning something unintelligible, Seong-je complies. His fingers dig in almost bruisingly and he begins to slam into you in earnest. The pace he sets is brutal and hungry—months of pent-up longing poured into every snap of his hips. He drives into you deep and rough, and it feels so damn good you think you might scream.

Your tits bounce against the armchair with each of his thrusts, the coarse fabric rubbing your hardened nipples through your tank top. The chair’s legs screech against the floor from the force of his pounding, but none of you care. Seong-je is panting like an animal, his breath coming in harsh grunts each time he plunges into your welcoming heat. “You feel… unreal,” he growls, voice ragged. “So fucking perfect on my cock—shit—”

The room echoes with the sharp slaps of skin on skin as he fucks you with abandon. You feel a droplet of sweat run down your temple; he’s working up a sweat too, the effort of restraining himself and pleasuring you making his body gleam.

Your boyfriend hasn’t looked away from your face. You hold his gaze as best you can, your own vision blurring with tears of ecstasy. He looks absolutely debauched, one hand rubbing the prominent bulge in his slacks in slow strokes, the other occasionally reaching out to caress your cheek or throat lovingly as you’re railed from behind.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks in a velvety murmur, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Getting fucked by our loyal dog?” His words are filthy, but the underlying tone is almost affectionate.

“So good—ah—so fucking good,” you babble, no longer caring what comes out of your mouth. “He’s so deep—” A sharp thrust steals your words, your eyes rolling back briefly.

He smirks, clearly satisfied by your answer and the wrecked look on your face. “Look at you. You love this, don’t you?” His thumb slips into your mouth and you instinctively suck on it, eyes fluttering. “Being filled by a cock other than mine, while I watch. Such a nasty little thing.” There’s a dangerous edge of delight in his voice.

You whimper around his thumb, nodding as tears slip down your cheeks from the intensity of it all. Maybe you never consciously admitted it before, but yes—you love this. The depravity, the intensity, the way Baek-jin’s presence and Seong-je’s desperate passion combine to leave you utterly limp with ecstasy. It’s overwhelming in the best way.

Seong-je changes the angle slightly, hooking one of his hands around the front of your thigh to pull your leg up a bit, opening you even further. The next plunge hits a spot inside you that makes you see stars. You scream, fingers scrambling for purchase on the chair.

“There, huh?” he pants, having felt your reaction. He pistons his hips, now aiming for that spot with each stroke, and your screams turn to incoherent moans. Your entire body feels like it’s glowing, nerves lit up from head to toe.

Baek-jin withdraws his thumb from your mouth and instead grips your chin, keeping you facing him. “Don’t close your eyes,” he orders softly. “I want to see everything.” His own composure is fraying; you can see his chest rising faster, the way he’s pressing down harder on his own erection as he watches his friend pound into you.

You force your heavy lids to stay open, focusing on his face as a grounding point. It’s utterly erotic—the contrast of his relatively calm upper body and the frantic movement happening behind you. His eyes flick to something behind you for a moment and his lips curl.

He addresses Seong-je, voice dropping to that commanding register that could make grown men soil themselves. “Don’t you dare close your eyes either. Watch her.”

Seong-je’s growl of affirmation indicates he’s complying. He was likely already watching your body intently—where you’re joined, the bounce of your ass with each impact, the arch of your back. But at Baek-jin’s command, perhaps he lifts his gaze to your face.

“She’s so fucking beautiful, isn’t she?” He continues, a possessive pride coloring his tone. “Look at her. Look at what you do to her.”

Seong-je lets out a guttural groan in response. “Y-yes… she’s… ah—amazing.” His pace falters just a half-second, the emotional weight hitting him, but then he recovers and keeps driving into you, albeit with a new layer of reverence amid the roughness.

Your heart twists at his words even as your body is being used for pleasure. There’s so much love in what he said, in how he’s orchestrating this not just as a show of power but as a deeply perverse gift he enjoys giving. It makes you love him even more, impossibly.

Between the intense physical stimulation and the emotional high of this whole scenario, you feel another climax swiftly building. Each brutal thrust from Seong-je’s cock pushes you closer to that edge. Your toes curl against the floor, thighs quaking. The chair arm creaks under your grip.

“Ah—I’m—” you sob, eyes locked on Baek-jin’s through a haze of tears. “Jin, I’m gonna—oh—”

His eyes burn into yours. “Do it,” he encourages darkly. “Cum for us. Cum on his cock.” His hand slides down to grasp your throat lightly, not cutting off air but making you feel his hold. That small choke of pressure is the final catalyst.

With a wailing moan, you come undone. Your walls clamp around Seong-je like a vise, milking him. You convulse under him, vision whiting out as a tidal wave of ecstasy crashes over you. It’s even more powerful than the first orgasm, amplified by the feeling of utter fullness and the depravity of the act.

You scream his name—“Seong-je!—” and a string of incoherent profanities as pleasure wracks you. Your whole body shudders, knees nearly giving out. Hot gushes of fluid flood around his cock as your release splashes out; you’re dimly aware that you’re likely making a mess of both of you, but in the moment it only registers as toe-curling bliss.

“F-Fuck, she’s cumming—she’s—” his voice is wild, awed and desperate. Your orgasmic spasms clearly push him to the brink. He fights to keep pumping into you through your climax, but his thrusts turn erratic as your vice-like grip around him triggers his own end.

Baek-jin tightens his hold on your throat just a touch, forcing your eyes open through your overwhelming pleasure. “Look at me,” he commands. You do, your gaze bleary and fervent on his face as tears of pleasure stream down. He nods in satisfaction. “Good girl. Now, Seong-je,” he barks sharply, turning his attention to the man still pistoning into your trembling body. “Cum inside her. Now.”

At those words, Seong-je lets out something between a roar and a sob. He slams into you one final time, burying himself as deep as humanly possible. His entire body goes taut and you feel it—the hot rush of his release flooding your insides. He comes with shuddering, violent intensity, ropes of cum pulsing against your cervix, filling you to the brim. Seong-je’s fingers dig into your hips almost painfully as he holds you flush against him, as if trying to meld into you.

A guttural groan tears from his throat, seemingly endless, as he empties everything he has into your welcoming heat. You moan at the sensation—the wet warmth coating your insides, each pulse of his cock like a heartbeat against your sensitive walls. It’s obscene and utterly satisfying.

Baek-jin watches, chest rising and falling rapidly. His hand slowly releases your throat as Seong-je collapses over your back, spent. “That’s it…” he says in a low, soothing voice, almost cooing at the both of you. “Fill her up. Good job.”

Seong-je is practically whimpering as the last spurts of his orgasm taper off. “T-thank you… thank you…” he rasps brokenly, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades, his body trembling with aftershocks. You’re not even sure if he knows what he’s saying, if he’s thanking Baek-jin or you or some deity of fortune—maybe all of the above.

You breathe in ragged gasps, your body limp and utterly wrecked, pinned beneath Seong-je who still hasn’t moved. You feel completely at peace in that hazy, blissed-out way, even as your cunt aches from the stretch and your combined juices trickle warm and sticky down your thighs.

The room is silent except for the heavy breathing of all three of you. Finally, Baek-jin breaks the quiet with a gentle clearing of his throat. “Seong-je,” he says, not unkindly.

He stirs as if waking from a dream. He realizes he’s practically draped over you and quickly straightens with a murmured apology. Carefully, he withdraws from you, and all three of you groan softly at the sensation—your oversensitive walls twitch at the drag, and his softening cock slips free with a lewd wet sound. A gush of his creamy spend immediately follows, spilling out of you and dripping viscously down your inner thighs.

He makes a strangled noise as he sees it. Even Baek-jin’s eyes flare at the sight of your thoroughly fucked pussy leaking with another man’s cum. You flush, instinctively moving to close your legs, but his hand on your ass cheek stops you.

“Don’t,” he says. He kneels down slightly behind you to inspect the decadent mess. You can feel his gaze like a physical touch. With one finger, he swipes up a droplet of the fluid that’s running down your thigh. Between your utterly used state, his dominant care, and your lingering high, you can only whine softly at the sensation.

He chuckles and then—to both yours and Seong-je’s astonishment—he brings that finger to your mouth. Gently, he taps it on your lower lip. “Open,” he murmurs.

You obey, parting your lips. He slips the finger inside, and you taste it: a mix of Seong-je’s salty seed and your own tangy essence. It’s filthy and intimate and so arousing even in your exhaustion that you moan around his finger, dutifully licking it clean without being asked twice.

“Good girl,” Baek-jin whispers, eyes heavy-lidded. He withdraws his finger once satisfied and stands upright again.

Seong-je looks like he can’t believe his eyes, clearly aroused by the sight despite having just cum. But as reality seeps back in, he also looks uncertain, concerned even. His gaze flits between you and Baek-jin, trying to gauge the aftermath. His pants are still around his thighs, his cock now soft but still slick with your combined fluids.

The atmosphere shifts slightly—still warm, but the raw lust is ebbing, making space for other emotions. Satisfaction, relief, a hint of awkwardness perhaps.

You gingerly push yourself upright from the armchair. Your legs protest, wobbly from exertion, and you have to grab the chair back to steady yourself. Immediately, Seong-je steps forward, zipping up his pants hurriedly and reaching as if to help you stand, concern etched on his face.

Baek-jin is quicker. He loops an arm around your waist, pulling your spent body against his solid frame. “Careful,” he murmurs, brushing damp hair from your face. His other hand slides down to tug your rumpled skirt back over your hips, a gesture of modesty now that the deed is done.

You lean into him, melting into his familiar scent and hold. He’s always run hot, and right now his body heat and steady heartbeat against your side feel like home. A sudden wave of emotion wells in you—love, reassurance, an almost delirious giddiness that the three of you came through that intense encounter intact.

Seong-je stands a foot away, hands twitching at his sides, unsure where he’s allowed to touch or if he should even speak. His gaze lingers on you with naked tenderness and worry. “Are you… alright?” he asks softly. “Did I hurt you?”

His earnestness tugs at your heart. You manage a tired smile. “I’m okay, Seong-je. Just… a little sore.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “In a good way.”

He exhales, relief evident. “Good. I— I’m glad.” He rubs the back of his neck, clearly still processing everything that just happened, the post-nut clarity perhaps bringing a dose of nerves. “That was… I mean… thank you,” he stammers, directing the gratitude to the both of you. “I don’t even… I can’t express—”

Baek-jin holds up a hand, stopping his babbling. There’s a faint smile on his lips, almost fond. “Consider your reward accepted, then,” he says lightly. His arm around you tightens a fraction, a subtle signal: we’re returning to normalcy now.

Seong-je straightens, nodding. The dynamic is shifting back; Baek-jin is clearly reasserting his usual authority in the aftermath. But there’s a newfound respect and camaraderie in his eyes as he regards his leader—and also a lingering awe when he glances at you.

You feel Baek-jin’s lips press to your temple in a gentle kiss. “You were amazing,” he whispers just for you, low and full of love. “So perfect for me.”

Your chest swells with affection. Exhausted and sex-drunk, you turn in his arm and wrap your own around his torso, nuzzling into him. The slight stickiness of sweat and the faint copper smell of blood from his earlier wounds are still there, but none of it bothers you. He’s yours.

He strokes your back soothingly, then eyes Seong-je, who still waits as if unsure what to do now. “Go get a towel, will you?” He says, nodding toward the small bathroom attached to the living space. “Wet it with warm water.”

Seong-je blinks, then immediately moves to obey. He disappears into the bathroom, leaving you and your boyfriend briefly alone.

As soon as he’s out of sight, Baek-jin tilts your face up to his. His expression is tender in a way he rarely shows outside of private moments. “How do you feel?” he asks softly, searching your eyes.

A wave of emotion washes through you. How do you even articulate how you feel? Physically, you’re deliciously sore, every muscle relaxed and boneless. Emotionally, you’re absolutely sated and maybe a bit overwhelmed. But most of all, you feel loved. Loved and known in a way that’s staggering.

“I feel…” you bite your lip, giving him a warm, tired smile. “Incredible. Loved. And very, very tired.” You chuckle weakly.

His face lights with a small genuine smile—one of those rare smiles that reach his eyes. “You are loved,” he says quietly, brushing your lower lip with his thumb where you worried it. He then glances down, and his smile turns into a faint grimace as he takes in the state of you: your inner thighs sticky with evidence of what transpired, bruises already starting to form on your hips where Seong-je held you, the smear of mascara from your tears. He runs his thumb gently under one of your eyes, wiping a smudge away. “My poor girl,” he murmurs affectionately. “What a mess you are.”

You huff a soft laugh, leaning into his hand. “Worth it,” you whisper.

His eyes darken with something akin to reverence. He dips his head and captures your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss—so different from the hungry ones earlier. It’s full of love and gratitude. You sigh into it, kissing him back tenderly.

When you part, Seong-je is just emerging with a damp towel. He averts his eyes slightly, as if worried he’s intruding on an intimate moment. Baek-jin doesn’t seem bothered; he beckons Seong-je over with a slight tilt of his head.

The boy approaches, holding out the warm, wet towel uncertainly. Baek-jin takes it from him, then crouches down in front of you. To your surprise, he himself gently spreads your thighs. You flush with embarrassment as he carefully wipes the mess from your skin, cleaning the stickiness of cum and arousal smeared there. He’s uncharacteristically tender with the motion, businesslike yet caring.

Seong-je watches, shifting on his feet. “I-I can do that—” he offers hesitantly, perhaps feeling awkward that his boss is cleaning up his spend.

“I’ve got her,” Baek-jin replies calmly, not unkindly but with finality. He finishes wiping between your thighs, then tosses the towel onto the coffee table. His hand caresses your outer thigh reassuringly as he stands back up.

That simple statement—I’ve got her—speaks volumes. Seong-je seems to understand. He nods, stepping back a respectful pace. The reality of the roles re-establishing themselves is almost palpable in the air. He is the right-hand man again, loyal and content, and Baek-jin is the one who holds you.

A heavy silence lingers for a moment. He clears his throat, a bit nervously. “Thank you,” he says again, quietly earnest. His gaze flickers between you two. “To both of you. I… I won’t ever forget this.”

You give him a soft, reassuring smile. “Neither will we.”

Baek-jin inclines his head. “You’ve earned it.” There’s a subtle finality in his tone, like closing a chapter. He then must notice Seong-je’s busted lip again and the dried blood on his face from earlier, because he gestures. “Now, go wash up properly. Get some rest. We’ll debrief tomorrow.”

It’s a gentle dismissal. Seong-je hesitates, eyes lingering on you one last time. There’s a flicker of emotion there—gratitude, affection, perhaps even love in its own way—but he tamps it down and offers a small bow of respect to Baek-jin, then to you. “Goodnight… boss. Goodnight… and thank you,” he says again softly to you.

“Goodnight, Seong-je,” you reply warmly.

With that, he gathers his jacket from the floor and quietly slips out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Silence settles in his absence. Only the hum of the refrigerator and the muffled sounds of the city night beyond the window remain.

Baek-jin exhales, the tension of performance leaving his body. He turns to you, and immediately his hands are on you—one cupping your cheek, the other resting on your hip. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks, brow furrowed slightly in concern now that no one else is around.

You lean into his palm, covering it with your own. “I promise. A little sore, a little exhausted, but I’m more than okay.” You grin cheekily despite your fatigue. “That was… well, it was insane. But in the best way.”

He chuckles, relief evident in the way he presses his forehead to yours. “Yes, it was certainly that.” He closes his eyes, and you stay like that for a moment, simply sharing breath, absorbing each other’s presence.

After a beat, he pulls back and his gaze flits downward. “I should get you cleaned up more and into bed. You need rest.” Ever the caretaker beneath his rough exterior, at least for you.

You hum in agreement. Every bone in your body feels like jelly. A hot shower and curling up with him in bed sounds like heaven.

As he guides you towards the bathroom, you limp slightly, wincing at the ache between your legs. He notices and gently scoops you up into his arms without warning. You yelp in surprise and wrap your arms around his neck. “I can walk!” you protest weakly, though truthfully you relish being babied by him.

“Shh,” he chastises softly, carrying you bridal-style with ease despite having fought earlier and indulged in strenuous extracurriculars. “Let me take care of my girl.”

My girl. Those two words are a balm, erasing any lingering doubt or insecurity that might have tried to creep in post-encounter. You rest your head against his shoulder as he carries you into the bathroom.

He sets you down on the closed toilet seat carefully. As he turns to start the shower and adjust the water temperature, you watch him with a content smile. He catches you staring and arches a brow. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say softly. “Just… I love you.” The words come out quietly but firmly.

His expression gentles. He steps back over and tilts your chin up. “I love you,” he replies, and in his voice you hear the depth of his devotion, obsessive and profound. It makes your heart flutter. He kisses you once more—slow, languid, reassuring.

The shower steam begins to billow around you, warm and inviting. He helps you undress fully, peeling off your rumpled tank top and unclasping your bra with practiced ease. As he slides the straps down your arms, he pauses to press tender kisses to the marks on your shoulder and neck—some from Seong-je’s earlier fervor, some older from Baek-jin himself. Each brush of his lips seems to silently say mine, mine, mine.

He peels your skirt off, and what’s left of your shredded panties falls to the tile floor. He huffs a faint laugh, picking the ruined lace up with a finger. “I liked these,” he comments idly.

You giggle, feeling a blush warm your cheeks. “You would be sentimental about the underwear you tore off me like a caveman.”

He smirks, tossing the scrap aside. “I’ll buy you a new pair.” Then he cups your bare sex gently, making you jolt. He’s just feeling the heat there, the tenderness. “Maybe I’ll keep these as a souvenir,” he adds wickedly.

You swat at his arm half-heartedly, laughing, and he finally stops teasing, helping you into the shower. The hot water cascading over sore muscles is pure bliss. He steps in behind you after shedding his own clothes, and pulls you back against his chest under the spray.

For a while, you both just stand there under the water, arms wrapped around each other. The heat soothes the aches, and being enclosed in Baek-jin’s embrace soothes everything else.

He washes your body with gentle thoroughness, massaging shampoo into your hair, lathering soap over every inch of your skin with his strong hands. It’s not sexual; it’s intimate care. Occasionally you both steal soft kisses or share a quiet chuckle when he notes a particularly dramatic bruise or love bite. When he finds a clear imprint of teeth at the crook of your neck, courtesy of Seong-je, his eyes darken and he nips next to it, overlaying his own mark right beside as if reclaiming territory. You squeal at the sharpness but then melt as he soothes it with his tongue.

After you’re clean and warm, he dries you off tenderly with a fluffy towel, then dries himself quickly. You slip on one of his oversized t-shirts, too tired for anything else, and he pulls on a pair of sweatpants, foregoing a shirt.

Finally, he lifts you again and carries you to bed. The moment you lie down on the cool sheets with Baek-jin sliding in beside you, a deep sigh of relief escapes you. Your body is heavy and deliciously sated.

He switches off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into soft darkness. The faint glow of the city through the curtains outlines his profile as he turns toward you, gathering you into his arms. You happily curl into him, head on his chest, one leg thrown over his hip.

For a time, you just listen to the steady beating of his heart. It’s a comforting rhythm, lulling you toward sleep. His fingers trace idle patterns on your back.

Just as you’re about to drift off, his quiet voice rumbles under your ear. “Was it really okay? Truly?” There’s a vulnerability in the question—almost imperceptible, but you know him too well to miss it.

You prop yourself up on your elbow so you can look at him through the dim light. He’s staring at the ceiling, jaw tight, as if worried now in the aftermath that he might have pushed you too far or… hurt something between you.

Tenderly, you reach out and run your fingers through his damp hair. He finally meets your gaze, and you see it: the flicker of fear that perhaps you’ll think differently of him or of yourself now.

“It was more than okay, my love,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the spot over his heart. “You were right there with me the whole time. I never felt for a second that I wasn’t yours.” The words spill softly but surely. “I loved every second of it… because it was what you wanted, what we wanted. And because you were in control, I felt safe.”

He exhales, tension bleeding out of him. His arm around you tightens, hugging you close. “Good,” he murmurs. “I— I wouldn’t have done it if I thought it would hurt you. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you say without hesitation. “I trust you completely.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, looking immeasurably relieved. When he opens them, some of the usual sly confidence is creeping back in. “And… if I said I enjoyed it too?” he asks quietly, a bit of wryness in his tone.

You grin. “I think that was pretty obvious.”

He huffs a soft laugh and nudges you. “Bold of you, little minx.” A comfortable silence, then, “It was definitely a one-time thing. I don’t intend on sharing you like that again.”

Surprise flickers through you at his sudden seriousness, but it’s a comforting kind of serious. “No?”

He shakes his head. “No. This was… special circumstances. A reward for a very loyal ally. And a bit of a test.” His thumb strokes your arm.

“A test?”

He smirks slightly. “Of my own restraint, perhaps. Of trust. And… maybe a gift to you as well, since you clearly enjoyed teasing him all this time.” His tone carries a teasing accusation.

You bite your lip, not denying it. “Well… it certainly was one hell of a gift,” you admit with a soft laugh. “But you’re right. This isn’t something I need to repeat. I only need you, Baek-jin.”

He seems pleased with that answer. He rolls you both so that you’re on your side facing each other under the covers, noses nearly touching. “And I only need you,” he replies, voice a low murmur in the dark.

You snuggle into him, tangling your legs together. “I’m glad we did it, though,” you add, trailing your fingertips across his bare chest. “In a strange way, I feel even closer to you now. Is that silly?”

He tilts your chin up to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “Not silly. I feel it too.” His dark eyes bore into yours, sincere and unguarded in the privacy of night. “Watching you, trusting you… it only made me love you more. You’re everything to me.”

Your heart swells so much you think it might burst. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, hugging him fiercely. “I love you, Na Baek-jin,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion.

He holds you just as tight. “And I love you. Always.”

With that final reassurance, you both let the exhaustion take over. Your breathing slows; his does too. Safe in each other’s arms, the world fades.

As you drift off, one last image floats through your mind: Baek-jin’s intense eyes locked on yours while Seong-je moved inside you, the feeling of being utterly possessed and yet completely cherished in the same moment. A shiver of remembered pleasure and emotion runs through you.

One night only. One night that was more than enough.

Before sleep claims you, you press a soft kiss to his throat and whisper a silent thank you into his skin—for his trust, for his love, for everything. He murmurs in his sleep, pulling you even closer.

Your eyes close, and you slip into dreams filled with gentle darkness and the steady heartbeat of the man who owns you—body, heart, and soul. The man who, even in sharing you, never let you forget that you are, and always will be, his.

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