CONTENT WARNING
⚠️ This chapter contains mature themes and sexually explicit content. Reader discretion is advised. Please skip this chapter if you are uncomfortable with such content.
He looked back at her and said, "Are you sure that you won't regret it, 'cause I'm taking a risk here."
"I won't. Where do you want me to sign the NDA?" she said, and he smiled.
She looked at the bartender and said, "We want a room, please." The card arrived across the polished wood without ceremony, and Seo-yeon picked it up before Yoongi could change his mind about handing it over. Room 1407. She slid it into her clutch like evidence she intended to keep.
They rode the elevator in silence that wasn't comfortable and wasn't awkward either it was charged, the kind of quiet where she could hear her own pulse. He stood close enough that she felt the warmth off his shoulder through the sleeve of his jacket. Fourteen floors. She counted every one.
In the hallway he let her swipe the card, and the lock gave its soft click, and then the door was shutting behind them and the city dropped away below the window and it was just the two of them and a bed neither of them had mentioned out loud. "So," he said, loosening his tie with one finger. "No regrets."
"No regrets." She set the clutch on the dresser. "That's my line, remember. You're the one taking the risk."
"Yeah." He crossed the room slowly, giving her time to step back, and she didn't. "You terrify me a little, Han Seo-yeon."
"Good." She reached up and pulled the knot of his tie loose herself, silk hissing through her fingers. "Terrified men do what I tell them."
His laugh came low in his chest, right against her mouth, and then he kissed her and the laugh turned into something else entirely. His hand slid into her hair and tipped her head back and he kissed her like he'd been rehearsing it all evening at that bar, patient at first, then deeper, his tongue sliding against hers while his other hand spread flat across the small of her back and pulled her flush against him. She felt him hard through his trousers, pressed along her hip, and made a sound into his mouth that she'd have been embarrassed about if he hadn't answered it with a groan of his own.
"Tell me to stop anytime," he murmured against her jaw, walking her backward.
"Don't you dare stop." Her dress had a zipper at the side and he found it blind, dragging it down inch by inch while his lips moved along her throat, tasting the skin beneath her ear. The fabric slithered off her shoulders and pooled at her feet, and he stepped back just far enough to look at her standing there in her bra and nothing else, the city light laying silver stripes across her stomach.
"Gorgeous," he said, rough. "I've been staring at your legs all night, you know that? Since the second you sat down."
"Then stop staring." She unbuttoned his shirt one button at a time, feeling his breath go shallow under her hands, pushing it off his shoulders. His chest was warm and lean, and she flattened her palms against it and walked him back this time, until his knees hit the bed and he sat, looking up at her.
"Yes, ma'am." She pushed him onto his back and climbed over him, knees bracketing his hips, and kissed him slow while she ground down against the length of him, the friction of fabric making her gasp against his mouth. His hands went to her waist, guiding her, setting a rhythm that built heat low in her belly with every roll of her hips.
"Yoongi" His name came out wrecked and she barely recognized her own voice.
"I've got you." He reached between them, unclasped her bra, and drew the straps down her arms with a care that made her shiver. Then his mouth closed over her nipple, hot and wet, tongue circling until it peaked, and she arched into him, fingers twisting in the sheets beside his head. He switched to the other, teasing the first with his thumb, and the sounds coming out of her stopped being polite.
When she couldn't stand it anymore she pushed him flat and worked her way down his body, kissing a line over his ribs, his stomach, the dip of muscle below his navel, watching the muscles jump under her mouth. She freed him from his boxers, long, thick, already hard and slick at the tip wrapped her hand around the base, and licked a slow stripe up the underside of his cock just to watch his head fall back. "Seo-yeon, fuck"
She took him into her mouth, clumsy at first, learning him with every pass, how wide her lips had to stretch, where his breath hitched when her tongue swirled over the head, the way his abs tightened when she took him deeper. His fingers threaded into her hair, not pushing, just holding on and the broken sounds he made above her were better than any compliment she'd ever gotten. "If you keep that up this is going to be over embarrassingly fast," he managed, tugging gently.
"Is that a complaint?"
"It's a warning." He pulled her up his body and kissed her, tasting himself on her lips, and rolled them both so she lay beneath him. He hooked his fingers into her panties and dragged them down her legs, slow, his eyes on hers the whole time, then ran his hand back up the inside of her thigh and touched her, finding her soaked, her clit swollen and sensitive, and grinned like he'd won something.
"All that from kissing you?"
"Shut up and do something about it." He did. He pressed one finger inside her, slow and careful, and she gasped at even that, a stretch that was strange and new, her body clenching around him before it learned to soften. His thumb drew lazy circles over her clit until the tension bled out of her shoulders and she was rocking against his hand, and only then did he ease a second finger in beside the first, curling them against a spot that made her back bow off the mattress.
"That's it," he murmured against her collarbone. "Just feel it."
She was panting, riding his hand, the pressure building fast and bright and then she caught his wrist, her heart hammering for a reason that had nothing to do with pleasure.
"Yoongi. Wait." He stilled instantly, eyes searching her face. "I've never" Heat crawled up her neck, and she made herself hold his gaze. "You're my first. All of it. So if I'm bad at this, that's why."
For a second he didn't move at all. Then he leaned down and kissed her, soft, unhurried, nothing like the man who'd torn her dress zipper down like it owed him money. "Han Seo-yeon," he said against her lips, "you just spent five minutes learning my cock with your mouth like a research project. You're going to be extraordinary."
She laughed, and the laugh shook loose the last of the fear. "Flatterer."
"Honest." He kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheekbone, the flutter of her pulse. "We go slow. You say stop, we stop. You say more, God help me, I'll give you more. Deal?"
"Deal." Her voice cracked on it and she dug her fingers into his shoulders. "Yoongi, please. I need you inside me."
He settled between her thighs, the blunt head of his cock nudging at her entrance. He braced on one elbow and cupped her face with his free hand, suddenly serious. "Okay?" She answered by digging her heels into his ass and pulling.
He pushed in, just the head, thick and burning, and she gasped at the sting of it, her body clenching hard against the intrusion. He froze immediately, lips pressed to her temple. "Breathe. You're doing so well. Breathe for me."
She breathed. Slowly, the burn melted into something else, a deep aching fullness, and she nodded against his jaw. He sank in another inch, paused, waited for her nod, then another, feeding himself into her with a patience that trembled at the edges, she could feel it in him, the strain of holding back, the way his arm shook where it braced beside her head. Finally his hips pressed flush against hers and they both swore, and he laughed breathlessly against her neck.
"You feel incredible," he gritted out, buried to the hilt. "So tight. Tell me when."
"Move. Yoongi, move." He pulled almost all the way out and drove back in, gentle, and the first thrust knocked the air out of her — less pain now, more pressure, the stretch turning sweet at the edges. He kept it slow, rolling his hips so he dragged against every nerve inside her, one hand sliding down to press his thumb over her clit, and bit by bit her body opened for him and the discomfort dissolved into something that made her moan his name into the sweat-damp skin of his shoulder.
"Faster," she whispered, testing the word. "Please, faster."
His control snapped beautifully. He quickened, still deep, still careful, and she met him thrust for thrust, nails raking down his back, chanting yes, yes, just like that, the ache of her first time blooming into the brightest pleasure she'd ever known.
"Look at me," he said, and she forced her eyes open and found his dark and fixed on her face. "I want to see you when you come." Her orgasm crested without warning, her whole body clamped down around him, pulsing, her cry breaking high and helpless as the pleasure crashed through her in waves, tighter and hotter than anything her own hands had ever managed. He fucked her through it, faster now, chasing his own edge, his rhythm stuttering.
"Where" he started.
"Inside, inside" and he thrust twice more, deep and hard, and groaned her name into her throat as he pulsed inside her, hips pressing flush, shaking. They stayed tangled like that while their breathing slowed, his forehead resting against hers, both of them damp and boneless. He finally eased out of her with a care that made her wince and melt in equal measure, and came back to pull her against his chest, tucking her head under his chin. His thumb traced slow circles on her bare shoulder.
"How do you feel?" he asked quietly. "Honestly."
She considered it, the pleasant ache low in her body, the stickiness between her thighs, the strange certainty that nothing in her life would sort the same way again. "Like I should have done that years ago."
He huffed a laugh into her hair. "Glad to be of service."
"So," she said into his collarbone. "Any regrets yet?"
"Ask me again in the morning."