Soo-min's POV:
I look at myself in the mirror, taking in the reflection of me in the new, delicate lingerie.
I'm hiding in the bathroom at the end of the hallway, the one no one really uses, hoping no one finds me here.
I bought this hoping Tae-Jin would finally be satisfied with me.
But I can't stop thinking about Seok-ho.
God, what's wrong with me?
I scold myself; how pathetic I am.
And yet...
I imagine him seeing me like this.
The thought of him alone makes me wet.
I imagine him kissing me.
My fingers already moving, trying to mimic what I think his mouth would feel like.
It's stupid.
Just because he's defended me doesn't mean he'd ever be attracted to someone like me.
It must be pure pity what he feels. That's all.
Still...
I'm so close.
Then the door opens.
And Seok-ho steps into the bathroom.
Half-naked.
I moan.
I can't stop it. Just seeing his body, right there in front of me.
The orgasm hits me hard.
I can't stay on my feet.
My back slides against the wall, and I sink to the floor.
Shame floods me.
"I... I was just trying to... learn some things," I mutter, trying to explain.
He raises an eyebrow.
"Well, that's a promising first step," he says.
"Huh?"
"Like I already said, start exploring what gives you pleasure, instead of blindly serving others."
I can't speak.
My mouth is dry.
My mind is blank.
"How about this," he says, his voice low, deliberate. "You want to learn about sex?"
He locks the bathroom door.
"Use me."
"Wh–what?" I stammer, blushing.
"Your words will be my leash. Tell me what you want to experience. My hands, my mouth, all of me will follow."
He steps close enough to feel his breath on my skin.
"Tell me. What were you fantasizing about when I walked in?"
I can barely talk.
"I fantasized about…" I stammer.
"Yeah?" he asks, eyes locked on mine. Intense, unreadable.
"You..." I whisper.
His eyes darken, surprised.
"Me?"
"Yes... I imagined you..."
"What did I do in your fantasy?" he asks, voice rough as his fingers trace the edge of my lingerie.
"You took it off."
"Oh?" His fingertips slip just beneath the fabric. "Slowly?"
A pause.
"Or did I rip it off?" he adds, tugging the material with more force.
"With your mouth," I whisper, my heart about to burst.
He leans in, lips brushing my skin as he slides the strap down my shoulder with his teeth teasingly. Then the other.
My knees nearly buckle.
He's even more intoxicating than I ever dared imagine.
His mouth trails lower.
He kneels down in front of me, hands not hesitating, gliding along my body.
Then he pulls down the last piece of fabric.
"And after that?" he asks, eyes burning into me. "What did I do to you then?"
"Kisses…"
"Where?"
I swallow hard, pulse racing.
"Down there…"
He kisses my abdomen, moving lower, deliberate, unhurried.
My back arches involuntarily. I ache for more.
"Only kisses?" he murmures, pressing a kiss to my hip, then my inner thigh, then – my clitoris.
His breath fans against it, maddeningly close.
"No… ah! Lick me. Please."
The words fall from my lips, breathless, desperate.
He doesn't hesitate.
"As you wish," he murmurs.
And then…
Pleasure crashes into me, sharp and overwhelming.
A gasp tears from my throat. My fingers twist in his hair, desperate for grounding as he devours me like he's starving.
I try to hold my scream back, my orgasm stronger than ever.
"What happened next," he asks, voice husky, lips glistening, "in that fantasy of yours?"
"You interrupted me."
He smirks.
"Oh? Then maybe next time... let's see what else happens in your fantasy."
"Is that all?" I ask, breathless.
He looks up at me again.
"Want some more?"
I swallow. "I mean... What about you?"
He leans closer, brushes a strand of hair from my face.
"Try to get used to it. There will be times when you're the receiver without needing to satisfy others."
I look at him, completely undone.
"But... I want to kiss you too."
His smile is soft.
"Then next time... let's fantasize about that too. And I'll make sure all of it happens exactly how you want it," he whispers, his breath warm against my ear.
I freeze.
I don't understand him.
He seems drawn to me. More than that.
There's something else in his gaze; affection. Longing. A quiet kind of reverence.
But I haven't done anything to deserve that.
I've never done anything for him.
So why?
Why does he want me?