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[AUTHOR'S NOTE: ALL TEXT WRITTEN IN BOLD MEANS IT IS SPOKEN IN ENGLISH]
Kyungsoo’s steady gaze follows my trek around the bedroom. The language exercises we were working on earlier, along with his vocabulary notes and laptop, lie discarded on the nightstand, next to the bed.
“Where is my other shoe?” I mutter to myself.
I frown, turning in a semi-circle and pushing my hair out of my eyes. I need that shoe; my bra is in it; folded up inside the toe. It’s sort of a ritual now – underwear in the front pocket of my jeans, bra in my shoe. Before I started doing that, you’d be amazed how many times I’ve had to leave Kyungsoo’s apartment without one or the other items, praying that they won’t be found by a housekeeper.
It wouldn’t do for rumors to start about me and Kyungsoo. I’m his English tutor, not his girlfriend.
Not his girlfriend; even if he is the most perfect human being on earth. Even if he does own the sexiest lips in existence, is thoughtful and kind, has the goofiest sense of humor, and is unashamedly romantic. Even though he’s kind to animals, and gives the best neck massages, and makes a pro-level cappuccino, and does things with his tongue down there that feel so fucking good, my head spins around like that possessed kid from The Exorcist…
“What time is your train?” Kyungsoo asks, shaking me out of my thoughts.
“In about twenty minutes,” I glance at the clock on his nightstand and sigh; “Shit, make that fifteen minutes…”
“Ah…” Kyungsoo gives a wry smile and leans back on the pillows, tucking his hands behind his head.
Not exactly helpful, but he knows better than to offer to drive me home – it’s tough to be discreet when my neighbors have already been speculating about my ‘Handsome friend with the fancy Tesla’.
He waits until I’m in the bathroom (taking the world’s speediest shower), before calling out to me.
“You know, you can always just stay…like, the whole night. Instead of disappearing once I’m asleep, like you usually do...”
If I wasn’t trying to keep the soap out of my eyes, I’d roll them out of my head.
“Or, I can get the last train - like I planned - and you can actually study chapter three,” I holler back, over the running water.
“Wow. Okay Teach,” He chuckles. “So strict– me likey.”
“Ugh, you’re infuriating,” I mutter, with a smile. There’s only a three-year age difference between us, but he still insists on making those greasy jokes.
(And he insists on calling me Teach, even has my info in his phone under that name. But I get him back by calling him Pingu, and watch his eyebrows do that cute/angry thing whenever I do. It only makes him look like the cartoon penguin even more.)
Once the soap is rinsed off my face, I poke my head out of the shower curtain to add a louder retort.
“And anyway, I don’t disappear– I always text you on the way home.”
“Sure…but, you never wake me up before you leave.” Kyungsoo’s tone is not accusing. Just teasing, with a hint of whining. “You never let me send you off, or walk to the station with you, or give you a goodnight kiss…”
“Kyungsoo…”
“Yeah, yeah; too mushy, right? Aigoo… let me live, Teach. I don’t usually get such a golden opportunity to persuade you to stay…indulge me a little.”
“As if we haven’t indulged enough tonight, already.” I pad out of the bathroom, toweling myself dry and trying not to care that his joke has hits such a chord. Kyungsoo is languidly stretching in his high thread-count sheets, looking all fucked-out, hot abs on display, warm skin-tone glowing against the white sheets. And, like a living contradiction, he also has that look in his eyes, the one that is reserved for me; the one that screams warmth, and trust, and safety and respect…
I almost forget how to breathe. But maybe I’d happily die right now, seeing him like this…being with him like this… because everything that I adore about him hits me at once, along with the painful reminder that we’re falling in love, and we both know it.
“You’ve already missed the train,” He points out, with a lazy pout on his lips.
Those heavenly, sinful lips…
Oh, no.
I take a microsecond to lament my existence. These rogue feelings have just been so bad lately, and Kyungsoo is not doing a single thing to help me to pull myself together. It’s like he’s decided to level-up in every aspect, out of spite for my fragile emotions.
I don’t know why he’s just sitting back and letting me quietly drown in my desire for him, but the sad fact is, I’m fighting the fight to save myself on my own.
I turn away quickly, gathering some of my clothing, and keeping my voice as even as I can.
“The train, yeah I know, I know. But see, there’s this amazing invention called Uber, and I’m going to use that, once I’m dressed.”
“Ah. Ok.”
Kyungsoo sound a little disappointed, but doesn’t push any further. Maybe he reads the need to flee in my body language, so he just gives a knowing smile and stays quiet, scrolling his phone as I lay my clothes out on the bed.
*****
“Don’t get any ideas. This is only sex, we’re not dating. End of discussion.”
That was my stubborn, bold, and frankly ridiculous declaration to Kyungsoo when we started hooking up last year.
It was a basic story; well-to-do family requires foreign language training for their Graduate student child, from a native speaker. Kyungsoo had a say in the interview process, and chose me for the position. We spent a lot of time together; not just in formal lessons, but taking excursions and doing volunteer work, to get Kyungsoo comfortable speaking English in public. We both agreed pretty quickly that there was an attraction, but I refused to commit to anything like a relationship.
Let’s just say I’ve been, cautious, after the awful choices I have made with previous partners.
My last boyfriend was the lowest in a string of shitty exes. It’s not a secret that we were bad for each other. I think one of our screaming fights was livestreamed by a neighbor once. And I know that half of Young Seoul was at the club in Itaewon, on the night he broke my nose.
Maybe it was easy for outsiders not to intervene in the destruction - to chalk it up to ‘Foreigners being Foreign’. Maybe it was easy for my ex to throw money at the situation every time, and try to make it go away. But it wasn’t easy to ask myself why I had stayed with him for as long as I did. Why I coped with the on-going abuse by abusing myself even more. Why I told myself it was all my fault.
Eventually, I broke away. He left South Korea, and I stayed, got myself a bunch of self-help books, and tried to rebuild my life. I’m better than I was, but I’m far from perfect. I accept my part in the mess-that-was, but I still have triggers, even now.
Once Kyungsoo and I started our thing, he was observant enough to notice my old scars, both physical and emotional. He accepted that I would be the one to set the terms of us, and I chose them to fit where my mind was, at the time: not dating; just fucking. Non-negotiable.
We shook on the deal, right before he discreetly fingerbanged me in a reading nook at Kyobo Books, and I remember feeling so smug. Because I was setting clear boundaries for once in my adult life – I was going to be the one in control. At the time, I didn’t give a shit if I was jumping the gun.
Fast forward to today, and I can’t figure out how to un-shoot myself in the foot.
We’re not dating: I remind myself of that fact whenever Kyungsoo sends me a cute emoji in a text, or when I get the urge to order extra amounts of spicy chicken to take to him after work.
We’re not dating: I repeat it when I’m irritated by his cohorts getting too touchy-feely with him, or when I hear that his family has set him up on yet another blind date.
We’re not dating: I murmur it aloud whenever Kyungsoo looks at me that certain way – like he is now – or, when I’m tempted to give in to my weaknesses and stay the night.
To drive my point home with metaphorical sledgehammer – I know his contact lens prescription, and he knows my Netflix password; but no, I am not dating Doh Kyungsoo, and that’s final.
Why? A multitude of reasons; not least because I’m a walking disaster-in-recovery who is terrified of commitment. Here’s another good one: Kyungsoo’s family are from an upper-class background, with an impeccable reputation. Kyungsoo’s father, Ambassador Doh, is hinting at running for public office, which means he insists on the entire family maintaining a high standard of inscrutability.
Even if he was ok with one of his employees dating his son… I certainly don’t fit as someone the Ambassador would choose for Kyungsoo.
With my piercings, tattoo’s, and dyed hair, I’m the antithesis of suitable for his family’s public image. Add my emotional baggage and chaotic past, and I’d be nothing short of a devil in disguise.
Kyungsoo says he doesn’t care about that stuff, and I believe him. But, sometimes – I worry.
It’s stupid, and I’d never assume to tell him how to live his best, ‘high society’ life, but I wonder if he fully appreciates that his future is already mapped out, for at least the next decade.
He is a good son, and more than capable of living up to Ambassador Doh’s expectations. But, he is also young, and idealistic, and (according to the gossip I’ve overheard from the Ambassador’s secretary) a little too Westernized for the Seoul Elite’s taste.
His life choices already have eyes on them, but he fails to see that he plays an important part in the bigger picture of the Doh legacy right now, whether he wants to or not.
So, with such a heavy backdrop to our relationship, I go overboard to ‘keep it casual’ with him. I skate around the issue of where this is going most of the time, and if Kyungsoo even hints at bringing it up, I run, like the cowardly bitch I am. We do our version of No Strings Attached, and I tell myself that incredible fucking, followed this endless push and pull between us, is exactly what I wanted - even if I’m beginning to realize that it isn’t.
******
“Look, over by the bookshelf.”
Kyungsoo points to the corner, and I finally spy the shoe I’m looking for, under his pile of discarded clothes.
“Ah – thanks.” I grab it, glancing back over at him, and realize he’s still watching me bend over, casually palming his cock under his track pants.
“Hey!” I exclaim, blushing deeply.
I’ve given up trying to justify my post-sex shyness around Kyungsoo, and just accept that it’s a thing.
“What?” He chuckles, “Can’t I enjoy the view?”
Oh God. He’s clearly half-hard, and I warble in indignation; quickly pulling at the sheet on the bed to try and cover myself up.
Kyungsoo tugs at the other end of the sheet for a while, until I give a whine of frustration. “Soo-oo!”
He relents, letting go with a teasing smile. “Honestly - it’s not like you weren’t just bouncing on my dick, a while ago…”
I sputter, incredulous; “Wh..! Doh Kyungsoo, why the hell are you like this?!”
Now he’s full-on laughing at me, eyes twinkling and shoulders shaking, and damn, I have to marvel once again, just how beautiful he is.
I remedy my wayward thoughts by throwing a pillow at him, which he easily dodges.
“What is so funny?” I demand.
“You are,” Kyugsoo replies. “You always get like this…after. All flustered and irritated…it’s adorable. You’re adorable.”
“Am not,” I huff, fastening my bra.
No lie, the 'always’ aspect twists in my gut a little. ‘Kyungsoo’ and ‘always’ is a word combination only allowed to breathe air in the privacy of my dreams.
His smile becomes smaller, more meaningful, as his eyes travel down my body, and back up to my face. “Yes, you are. It’s not a side of you that everyone gets to see. But I like it. I like that I have this effect on you.”
I like it too. My heart flips, even as a coil of heat awakens in the pit of my stomach.
Call me adorable again.
Ask me to stay, just once more?
You’re mine, Pingu – mine.
I want to say it all. But shit, there is no future in this, in me and him. I just need to teach Kyungsoo conversational English, and not crush his heart - but my time on both of those things is running out.
I’m here on a temporary contract, and then I’ll be gone from the Ambassador’s staff, maybe even gone from the country. I shouldn’t keep giving in to the attraction between us, when it won’t go anywhere. But when Kyungsoo is smiling at me like this, with a look that seems to say he’s not going anywhere, either – I feel myself falling even harder for him.
Fuck my life, love is so damn stupid...
“Hey. Why not quit studying me, and study your advanced phrase book, hmm?” I joke.
Kyungsoo sighs dramatically, picking up the book on the nightstand.
“ ‘Hey’,” He mutters,tsk-ing like a grumpy old man: “ ‘Hey’; always ‘Hey’… isn’t that a, a, colloquialism? Some linguist you are, Teach…”
“Just get to work, smart-ass.” I drop my gaze, pulling on my jeans and trying not to smile.
Weak - I’m so weak for him.
"Hmm. ’What are your plans for the weekend?’ ” He reads aloud, a hint of cockiness weaving through his perfect English. “’Do you know what the weather will be today?’ ‘Where can I find the nearest pharmacy, please?’…”
I hum my approval. He’s getting really good. “Keep going.”
Kyungsoo pauses, glancing up at me. “She walks in beauty, like the night.”
I freeze, my hand midair in the act of fixing my hair. “Huh?”
I narrow my eyes, trying to recall why that sounds familiar.
Kyungsoo places the phrase book face down, before continuing, haltingly:
“She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes…”
What…?
I turn slowly to face Kyungsoo. I’m pretty sure I look quite a sight – my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide in surprise.
Kyungsoo’s gaze darkens now that he knows he has my attention. A trace of a smile plays around his heart shaped lips. The deep timbre of his voice rumbles to my core, and I can hear my heartbeat thudding in my ears.
“Thus, mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.”
He finishes the verse, giving me an almost challenging stare.
And I’m speechless.
Fuck. He…
I don’t know what to say. And, even if I did, nothing is coming out.
Internally, I’m like a love-struck cartoon character - with heart-shaped eyes popping out of my head, and a mouth hanging open with the tongue lolling out, but outwardly… I’ve got nothing.
“It’s a poem,” Kyungsoo states, still in English, after silence spins out between us, “by Lord Byron. The… the Poet.”
I know. I know.
Because I am the one that loves poetry. I am the one that loves Byron’s work. Iam the one that has ‘Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know’ tattooed in script on my ribcage, a quote used to describe the poet by his own wife…
I blink.
I choke.
“Uh…”
And Kyungsoo knows that I know, because I can’t count the times that he has traced his fingers over that tattoo as we’ve lain together after sex, and sleepily asked me to repeat any lines I can remember from Don Juan or Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage.
“… Uh …” I utter, again.
Fuck! Speak, idiot!
Oh my God. Am I going to pass out? Am I going to cry?
“Um.”
Fuck, I love him so much.
Fuck, this is bad.
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
And suddenly - Kyungsoo looks so unsure. As though he’s worried he did something wrong.
And his face is getting red...
“I…have been practicing,” He adds, his accent more stilted.
I slowly nod. “Yeah. I…I hear that…”
How to breathe? What are words? His accent is so pretty, and he remembered, fuck, send help, I can’t hold a single thought in my head…
With a Herculean effort I turn away, a lump the size of a boulder in my throat; and try not to panic.
I will remain calm. I will not get dramatic. I will not become tearful over, or jump to conclusions about, or assume anything by, Doh Kyungsoo, reciting a fucking LOVE POEM to me, in FLAWLESS ENGLISH, by BYRON.
No. No – no sir, good day.
Except - It’s the sweetest thing. It’s the most fucking romantic thing, ever. I can’t avoid seeing the gesture for what it is…And I feel the sob rising up in my throat, right before it’s about to happen.
I bite down on my lips, trapping the sound as best I can, because I don’t want to be this affected, but… look at him – I don’t stand a fucking chance.
It's bad enough that Kyungsoo is lying there, half-dressed, looking both adorable and sexy. But combine that with his husky voice, and my already weakened state … well. I run the risk of blurting out something ridiculously inappropriate to him – something deeply sentimental, laced with revelations that we haven’t discussed, and declarations we haven’t agreed upon.
I run the risk of confessing my…True.Fucking. Feelings.
So yeah – a big fat no to all of these emotions right now.
He's waiting for my answer - I should say something…
It takes a minute of boring holes into the expensive wallpaper with my stare, but I manage to regroup, clearing my throat and glancing over my shoulder at him.
“That was excellent, Kyungsoo. Your pronunciation has really improved…”
Oh . I almost wince at how flat and detached my tone is.
Kyungsoo does wince, and I feel a squeeze of sympathy for him - but it spurs me on to finish out the thought.
“You are sounding more and more like it’s a native language. Pretty soon, you won't need me anymore.”
There is a weighted silence from Kyungsoo before he responds, a shift in his mood, that is reflected in the furrow of his eyebrows, and the nibbling of his lip, which I can see in my peripheral vision.
“Why would you say that?" He asks, quietly.
“Because it's true,” I reply, as carefully as I can. “Your tuition…”
“My tuition??” He echoes. His snort of laughter not exactly humorous; “Tell me that’s not what we’re really talking about, here?”
I hesitate, rubbing my suddenly clammy hands together. “We agreed about this. The tuition…you; me. our…situation…it’s – it’s temporary, Kyungsoo.” I pause, dropping my head; “We’re… not dating.”
There it is, out in the open – our status; the thing never spoken out loud, the thing that is like a knife in my gut.
We’re not dating sounds equally as shitty in English, as it did in Korean.
I see Kyungsoo deflate just a little, staring off into the distance. He looks disappointed, as though he knows I’m trying to convince myself into this crap, as much as convince him.
I sigh, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms. I’m just trying to do the right thing. The reality of our circumstance isn’t going to change with a few lines of English poetry, is it? Surely, if anything, the more we admit, the more painful things are going to get?
“Does it have to be? Tem…tempo-rary?” Kyungsoo tries out the word in his mouth, still gazing unfocused over at the far wall. “Things… change, right? Feelings change…”
I don’t trust myself to reply.
He hesitates, then looks at me, smiling a little sadly.
“Teach…I like you, a lot. I really like you. Do you – do you like me, even a little?”
My chest constricts. Oh, Soo… What a low move.
I don’t know what to do – I don’t know how to stop this, but I should. I should – right? I should, lie to him, say I have no feelings for him at all. Because I will definitely fuck up any attempt at a relationship with Kyungsoo. I’ll probably besmirch the reputation of the Dohs and end up getting fired. And, worse than that, I’ll possibly hurt this precious man – I’ll possibly hurt him more than I am right now, and how do I live with myself if that happens…
“Teach?? Hey, hey…”
I only feel the wetness coursing down my cheeks when Kyungsoo pulls me down to sit by him, gently turning my face to his. His eyes are wide with concern and surprise.
“Breathe. You look like you’re about to throw up.”
I give a brittle laugh, which turns into a sob, which turns into several more, and soon I’m a whole crying mess.
“This isn’t supposed to happen. You need to st-stop liking me. You’re n-not allowed to like me, we had a d-d-deal…”
Kyungsoo coos at my misery like it’s cute or something, and I push him away, weakly, before grabbing him into a hug. He doesn’t hesitate in returning it, while I whimper and tuck my face into his chest.
“You can’t just - casually ask how I f-feel about you, like it’s n-nothing, and you – you can’t be so…”
“Ok. Ok…” Kyungoo shushes me, and rocks me; holds me so tight in the sweetest, most perfect comfort. I thank the Gods that he is so unerringly patient. I don’t deserve it, but I take it, anyway.
“I’m sorry,” He murmurs; “I’m sorry, Baby. If you want to drop it, we can. You don’t have to say anything that’s going to freak you out even more…”
“Lies,” I mumble, accusingly. “You’re not sorry. I can hear you smiling.”
“Well…I mean, the answer to my question wasn’t an outright no, so – yes I am somewhat pleased…”
“Shut up!” I whine, “I hate you.”
The bite is taken out of my words by the way I’m nuzzling into Kyungoo’s neck, and he chuckles softly.
“Lies. You like me. But, I feel how much you're shaking, so that’s Ok - you still don’t have to say it.” He thumbs away my tears, and adds, “Just as long as you know that…you’re more than a Hook-up to me.”
“You’re…more than that, to me, too…” I heave a watery sigh at the admission, my heart feeling too big for my chest. “God, I’m sorry. I'm sorry, this is so fucking scary…”
Kyungsoo tips my chin up to look at him. “Don’t worry,” He enunciates slowly, with only the hint of an accent, “I’m here, and… I’m getting you.”
I peck him on the lips. “I think you mean, ‘I’ve got you’. If you’re saying that you’ll still support me even when I keep screwing this up, then it’s ‘I’ve got you’.”
“ ‘I’ve got you.’ Ah…” He considers this for a moment. “You know, even if… my English becomes good, there will always be, more things, I want to learn how to say. To you.”
I sit up, digesting the weight of his words. “What… things?”
Kyungsoo smiles. “Just – things.”
He’s holding his thoughts in; holding back. He does it for my benefit because he realizes that, even though I asked, I’m not ready to know those ‘things’. I’m not really ready to hear them. I don’t know how he knows this, but it’s another reason why I want to give him the world.
“So…” Kyungsoo frowns, looking upward and struggling for vocabulary in his memory. Finally, he shakes his head in frustration, returning to Korean.
“Did you like the poem? I know you like Byron but maybe… maybe that’s something personal, that you want to keep for yourself. Maybe I went overboard - I couldn’t tell if you thought it was too much, or...”
“I loved it,” I whisper.
Kyungsoo relaxes and hums, giving a decisive nod. I reach out and squeeze his hands, looking into his eyes – really seeing him. Really allowing the possibility of something more with him to blossom in my mind.
I see how brave Kyungsoo is, how he’s constantly trying to make me happy, even when I keep him at a distance, and… I want to try, too. I want to be just as brave.
What if I stopped making excuses about how different we are, about how our lives should be? What if I give myself permission to admit my deepest feelings out loud?
I still close my eyes, leaning in to kiss him. He lets out a soft noise of surprise, as though he hasn’t believed I was happy, until this very moment.
I curl a hand at his nape, and seek permission to part his lips with my tongue. Kyungsoo opens them up with a sigh, and I kiss him in the way I’ve thought about for so long – a kiss that is unreserved and tender, that offers love, and answers need; that overflows with all that I feel for him.
I keep kissing him; over and over, until his breathing is quickening, and my heart is fluttering all over again.
“I really… I loved it, Soo,” I breathe. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Kyungsoo cradles my face in his hands. His pupils are blown and his lips are rosy and full, but he still manages to look stern when he raises his brow.
“Promise that you’re not gonna give me a hard time anymore,” He says, “saying that I won’t need you, and things like that. I’m not going anywhere. Understand?”
I bite my lip and nod, “Ok Pingu,” I whisper. “So strict. Me likey.”
“Damn you,” He mutters, a snicker forcing its way out, and his lips forming a beaming, heart-shaped smile.
It’s only right that I respond with another round of my intimate, open-mouthed kisses, and Kyungsoo seems to really like them, judging by the appreciative noises. Being so affectionate with him is strange, different and new, in the best way.
“You are always surprising me,” He muses. I think I’m going to melt at the warmth in his voice, at the way he presses his forehead to mine, strokes my cheek.
“You fascinate me. I’m… still learning your language - your…love language. I want to figure out how to be fluent in it.”
Love language? Kyungsoo’s being way too poetic, way too soft, but I let him. I guess I can’t exactly be picky now, considering I’ve already allowed him to call me Baby, and I basically cried when he told me he liked me; and how, right now, I’m clinging to him like a fucking Koala.
Lines have already been crossed.
So, I let it go, and close my eyes, leaning into his touch.
“That sounds like a terrible idea,” I respond; “Getting fluent in my ‘love language’… that could take a while.”
“Good,” Kyungsoo murmurs, “because I want you to stick around for the rest of my life.”
“Ugh!” I groan with disapproval at the cheese-factor. “No.No, Kyungsoo.”
“What, didn’t you like that, even a little bit? – shit, and I was doing so well...”
“Yeah you were…” I clamber into his lap, internally counselling myself that this is okay, while a giggle threatens to bubble out of me. “Ten points deducted from Gryffindor.”
“Huh. Good thing I’m a Ravenclaw.” Kyungsoo places yet another soft kiss on my mouth, then eyes me with a sly grin.
“Hey - what is the English word for a juicy one of these?”
He grabs me around the middle and swats my butt with the book, and can’t help my surprised shriek.
“Ow!”
“Ow? I thought it was ‘ass’??” He jeers. He taps at the globe of my buttock again, not for pain, but for maximum sound effect, and I’m yelping, trying to swat away his hands, until he changes attack and starts to tug down the seat of my jeans .
“Kyungsoo!” I yell, wriggling.
“Let me see it!” He goads.
“No!”
“Give me a bite – just one bite!”
“No! No, Soo!” I hiccup, helpless with laughter.
He playfully wrestles me back onto the bed, laughing his deep, rich laugh at my squealing. We tussle in the safest way, without any real aggression, and soon – it’s not exactly wrestling anymore. Soon, it’s kissing, and rolling around, and steady friction, and Kyungsoo is fully hard, and I’m breathless, wanting to touch him and, for him to touch me...
“Don’t be mad,” He whispers, “but I like you more than a lot.”
I run a hand through his unruly hair, breathing deeply. “Off,” I murmur, pulling at the track pants already low on his hips. “I’ll stay tonight. The whole night.”
Kyungsoo smiles, granting my request, and caging me with his body.
God, the way he kisses. It’s unfair. I’m already shuddering with pleasure by the time he undresses me. I’m moaning by the time he maps out my body with his hands and mouth. And I’m pleading by the time he hoists one of my legs onto his shoulder with an eager growl.
It’s more indulgent this time; not just slower and deeper, but more vocal, now that we don’t have as many emotions to hide. The idea that Kyungsoo is into me, the idea that we might be upgrading from fuck-buddies to something more, is so damn exhilarating. I want to taste, kiss and lick him, wherever I can reach him. I want to breathe in his hitching sighs, swallow down the low-pitched moans that pour out of him as our bodies move in tandem.
“Kyungsoo,” I gasp, arching off the bed; reaching about my head for purchase, breathless and speeding mindlessly towards something blissful. “Fuck, Kyungsoo, yes, I’m close…”
“Baby,” He whispers, brow furrowed, fingers cool and firm on my hip and opposing calf.
“You’re so gorgeous…so perfect for me … ”
He turns his face into the column of my neck, murmuring praises as he takes me to the edge.
Entwined and enraptured, we fall over it, together.
*******
Hovering somewhere between being sleep and being awake, stroking along the line of Kyungsoo’s eyebrows while he traces his fingertips over the ink on my ribs; I feel it pertinent to at least try to redress the balance of our relationship.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Don’t get any ideas - we’re still not dating.”
“We’re not ‘just fucking’, either,” Kyungsoo mumbles back. He’s as relaxed and boneless as I am, so he doesn’t even open his eyes.
“True… but…I’m just saying, don’t think you can just pull out some poetry and we’re gonna start being all romantic, like I’m your girlfriend and shit…”
“Aigoo, you never stop.” He wiggles forward blindly, until he finds my lips in the dark, brushing his own against them. “I love you, but I’m tired. Sleep. We can argue tomorrow, when I walk you to the station.”
“Fine,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. I rub at the frown creasing his brow until it smooths out, and try to quell the trembling in my hands and the tremor in my voice.
“Pingu? I…I love you, too.”
“I know Teach,” He smiles, pulling me close into his body; “I know.”
For someone who claims not to be fluent, Kyungsoo speaks my love language pretty fucking well.