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“You know, when I said this thing would be perfect for you,” Sooyoung says, in between labored breaths, “I didn’t think you’d be using it for this.”
“What, really?” Sangah asks, curling her finger, just to watch Sooyoung squirm. “I was under the impression this was exactly what you meant.”
Sooyoung groans, and Sangah can’t tell if it’s more from frustration or pleasure. “You’re the worst,” she says, but rolls her hips down to get more of Sangah’s finger in, so maybe it’s the latter.
Some few weeks back, Yoo Sangah had invited Han Sooyoung out for coffee. (Well, Yoo Sangah got coffee; Han Sooyoung got some abhorrent, disgusting, and probably poisonous concoction that was more milk and sugar than real caffeine.) They walked around, talked about whatever came to mind, and somehow the topic of what they used to have before the scenarios came up. “I had this seriously nice car,” Han Sooyoung sighed. “Seriously. My blind dates shat their pants at the sight of its keys. I wish I could have that again.”
“Why?” Yoo Sangah asked. “You go on blind dates?”
“I—N-No, I don’t have time for that,” Han Sooyoung stammered, cheeks going red. Yoo Sangah smiled indulgently down at her. They had never quite defined their relationship, but after sharing clothes, visiting each other at work, and an innumerable amount of impromptu make-out sessions, Yoo Sangah liked to think they were at least Something. “You know, it’s about the power! The prestige! The financial equivalent of crushing their balls in my fist!”
Yoo Sangah had nothing to say to that except, “Sooyoung-ssi is always so eloquent.”
“Damn right.”
“Then do you want to go get a new car? It’s not like you don’t have the money for it.”
“Che, and use it on what roads? Half the city is still under construction. I don’t go out all the time like you anyway.” Realization suddenly dawned on Han Sooyoung’s face, though at the time Yoo Sangah didn’t see anything for her to realize. “I got it! You should get a new car.”
Yoo Sangah stared at her. “Me?”
“Yeah, you. You’re always running around to get to your shoots on time, aren’t you? I bet you’d have an easier time if you just got a car and stopped relying on the subway. And,” she added, smugly, “it’s not like you don’t have the money for it.”
Before Yoo Sangah knew it, Han Sooyoung was steering her towards a bunch of car dealerships in the area, jabbering on about how there was this one model that she was sure Yoo Sangah would love. Despite the many employees’ best advertising spiels, Han Sooyoung seemed determined to get something specific, so Yoo Sangah let herself be dragged around; it wasn’t like she had any preference for what car to get so long as she could get one at all.
“This one!” Han Sooyoung eventually exclaimed, bounding over to a bright red sports car near the center of what had to be the fifth store they’d entered. The model looked brand new, but a small placard near its front told Yoo Sangah it had been something before the scenarios. Han Sooyoung looked at her, then at the car, then back at her, and nodded. “Yeah, it’s perfect for you.”
How she decided that, Yoo Sangah couldn’t tell. “Is it? How is the mileage on these cars usually, do you know?”
“Uhh,” Han Sooyoung said, which was all Yoo Sangah needed to hear, really. “Is that important? Look, isn’t it sweet as hell? You could totally just—” She hopped right over and swung herself onto the hood, folding one leg up on it and letting her other one hang freely down the side. She had just enough sense to keep the soles of her shoes off the sleek, shiny surface, but the poor employee beside them looked like he was having an aneurysm anyway. “Do this, in public.”
“Hmm,” Yoo Sangah said, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to say, out loud, what it was exactly she wanted to do in public while Han Sooyoung was sitting there like that. “I think I’d look silly.”
“You could pull it off. You’re the Yoo Sangah, aren’t you?” Han Sooyoung slid off the car. “Let’s get it. Come on. You want it.”
“I think you want it more than I do.” But Yoo Sangah turned and nodded at the employee. If she were being honest, she couldn’t care less about the mileage on the thing.
Afterwards, she’d honestly forgotten about the whole thing and was convinced she’d hallucinated the mental image of Han Sooyoung on the hood of a red luxury car, sitting with her legs spread, talking about doing something in public, as some kind of wet fever dream. Then a call came a few days later, telling her to pick it up, and… Well, it certainly was useful, being able to drive herself one place to another without needing to squeeze in with several other people on one of the few subways that was in operation. Her colleagues complimented her on it and talked about getting personal vehicles of their own, but mostly Yoo Sangah was itching for the following weekend when Han Sooyoung would be free and they could “take that spanking new hottie out for a spin,” in her words.
The following weekend—so, earlier this morning—they hadn’t even made it into the car before Yoo Sangah shoved Han Sooyoung onto the hood and kissed her there. “What the hell,” Han Sooyoung said, but she only sounded a little surprised, and there was no denying the vigor with which she kissed back. “You’re crazy, you know?” she muttered. “If anyone found out about this, I… I bet the world would bend over its back trying to defend you from… from horny allegations.”
Yoo Sangah slid her lips down Han Sooyoung’s mouth, chin, neck. “I’d rather Sooyoung-ssi do the bending over.”
“Can you not say shit like that in such a normal tone of voice!? You really are crazy!”
Somehow they got in the car after only a little bit more (but still far too little) kissing, and Yoo Sangah drove mindlessly around the area for a while before Han Sooyoung asked for a turn. They stopped by the side of the road, switched seats, and Yoo Sangah should have expected how Han Sooyoung immediately U-turned and sped out onto the highway with a whoop. “Yeah! This is it! Man, the last time I did something like this was with that fucker Kim Dokja.”
Yoo Sangah frowned. “Dokja-ssi? When?”
“I don’t remember when, but we got this SSS-grade car as a scenario reward. Pretty sweet ride. It had cannons at the back for monsters.” Han Sooyoung reclined in her seat, slowing down when they approached traffic at the end of the highway. “I should’ve driven the other one more. Who knows where it is now.”
“The other one…” Yoo Sangah tilted her head. She’d been suspecting this for a while, but if Han Sooyoung had gone and said it herself, now was probably a good time to bring it up. “Did you own a car like this before the scenarios?”
Han Sooyoung looked almost embarrassed. “And so what.”
“Adorable,” slipped out before Yoo Sangah could stop herself, but she found the words difficult to regret when Han Sooyoung flushed all the way to the tips of her ears like that. “I’m not sure I would have liked you before the scenarios, though,” she said, just to see the shy blush turn into a furious one. “If we were in… university, or something. You were probably a horrible student.”
“Haah!? I was a delight in the classroom, for your information!”
“Somehow I doubt any of your classmates share the sentiment.”
“I bet you were in the student government,” Han Sooyoung went on. The traffic lights changed, and she turned at the intersection to a less populated street. Yoo Sangah could see it ended abruptly a few ways ahead, the road veering very shortly upward before it looked like a giant fist had torn a chunk off; there were only some twisted, crumpled remains left. “Professors’ pet for every single class. Business major?”
“Computer science.”
“Of course business—huh? Really?” Han Sooyoung squinted at her. “Wow, that must have been horrible.”
“Oh, the lessons could have been worse.” There were no other cars nor people around; there was a sign that said reconstruction teams were putting this area off until further notice, which Yoo Sangah had learned was the adult equivalent of a student procrastinating on an assignment too difficult to tackle at once. Han Sooyoung let the car slow to a stop by the end of the road, though not dangerously close to the edge. “It was the people, really. I couldn’t stand most of the men.”
Han Sooyoung snickered. “Just the men?”
“Just the people who thought they were better than me,” Yoo Sangah said. “So, the men.”
Han Sooyoung leaned over the center console, smirking up at Yoo Sangah. Yoo Sangah really does love that look on her face, if only because it was the same smirk she had worn the day they were first introduced to each other and Yoo Sangah had still wanted to strangle her with Ariadne’s Thread. (In hindsight, perhaps death by strangulation hadn’t been the end goal, though she hadn’t realized that until years later.) “If I were there, we would definitely have hated each other.”
“How do you know we would even have met? You definitely took creative writing as a major, didn’t you? At my university, the buildings for different departments were—”
“Oh my god, can you shut up and take a hint,” Han Sooyoung said, and Yoo Sangah was only too glad to lean down and meet her mouth halfway.
But kissing with the gear shift directly between them was a little too risky, especially considering the dead-drop right in front of them, so at some point they’d moved to the backseat. (Yoo Sangah had needed to leave and re-enter the car; Han Sooyoung just climbed over the center console like the freak she is.) Han Sooyoung straddled Yoo Sangah’s lap, hands unsubtly moving from her shoulders to her chest, and Yoo Sangah could barely move because she was torn between a million different ways to take this. “Those guys were idiots,” Han Sooyoung mumbled, and it took Yoo Sangah a moment to remember what they had just been talking about. “You are better than them.”
Yoo Sangah hid a smile in the crook of Han Sooyoung’s neck, reached up to help her shrug off her jacket. “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever told me.”
“Fuck you.”
“Is that your plan?”
Han Sooyoung just kissed her again. “I had this car when I was in uni. I mean, this model, obviously,” she said, moving her lips down to speak almost directly against Yoo Sangah’s skin. And Yoo Sangah let her, for now—she wanted to do something more with her hands aside from holding on to Han Sooyoung’s waist with them, but there was a fervor in Han Sooyoung’s movements that Yoo Sangah could sympathize with. “But still,” she laughed, “this is the first time I get to fuck a hot girl in the backseat. And it isn’t even my car anymore.”
Yoo Sangah hummed. “Did you make me get this car to fuel your little fantasy, then? About us knowing each other back in university?”
Han Sooyoung’s face burned again. “D-Did not.”
“Your taste in luxury cars is awful, Sooyoung-ssi. It only looks nice because it also looks expensive.” Yoo Sangah closed her eyes a moment, let Han Sooyoung unbutton her blouse so she could reach in and shamelessly fondle her tits. “What, you’re not going to deny it?”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re full of shit,” Han Sooyoung said, but she sounded distracted, so Yoo Sangah took the opportunity to slip a hand up her jean shorts. “Wha—h-hey!”
“What? Is there a problem?”
“I—I mean—” Han Sooyoung was almost worryingly red. She cleared her throat and looked away, as if that would hide her flushed face. “I’m not gonna ride your hand,” she finally said. Yoo Sangah hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get any redder. “My stomach hurt last time I did that.”
“Oh, Sooyoung-ssi needs core exercises.”
“What the? There are exercises for your pussy?”
Yoo Sangah tried to hide it, but she was sure her face twisted into a horrible expression she would rather die than be caught dead out in public with for the paparazzi to snap up. “Don’t… tell me you… used ‘core’ as a word for that…?”
Despair settled on Han Sooyoung’s face before she hurriedly covered it up with defiance. “What? It’s not that bad a word!”
Yoo Sangah could not believe this woman, supposedly the best-selling webnovel author of her time, was sitting on her lap right now. “I’m in shock,” she said, softly. Han Sooyoung opened her mouth, presumably to fire back, but anything she might have said dissolved into a startled moan when Yoo Sangah pressed down on her core through her damp underwear. “Did you ever write erotica?” she asked, well-aware Han Sooyoung was in no state for conversation, moreso when Yoo Sangah slipped her fingers past the fabric and felt the wetness on her bare skin. “You must have been the type to write during classes and lectures, no?”
“S-Sa…”
“Lie down.”
Despite the glare and gritted teeth, Han Sooyoung slid off Yoo Sangah’s lap and lay down on her back on the seats instead; Yoo Sangah shifted until she was the one on top this time, guiding Han Sooyoung’s legs to fold at the knee and rest atop Yoo Sangah’s shoulders, heels digging between her shoulder blades. “Tell me more about—this alternate universe where we meet in uni.”
“You make it sound so lame,” Han Sooyoung muttered.
“It’s only a bit lame,” Yoo Sangah reassured.
“That doesn’t make me feel better. Like, at all.” But they’re kissing again, so obviously Yoo Sangah had said something right. Han Sooyoung tried to buck upwards, grind up against Yoo Sangah’s thigh for friction even with several layers of clothes in the way, her kiss-swollen lips parted, and maybe Yoo Sangah was crazy, but only because Han Sooyoung made her so. “You probably took the subway home every night,” Han Sooyoung was saying, breathless. For once she’s right. “I would’ve—would’ve offered you a ride.”
It sounded so utterly predictable. Yoo Sangah wanted more. “Go on.” She undid Han Sooyoung’s shorts at last, tugged them down to rest somewhere around her ankles, and pressed her fingers against the damp warmth of her underwear.
Han Sooyoung gasped, shut her eyes, threw an arm over her face. “The… Uh… God, I don’t know. We fuck! Do I have to get any more specific? Should I make diagrams of the seventy different positions I thought about!?”
“Sure.” Yoo Sangah couldn’t hide a smile, so she eased a finger in before Han Sooyoung could laugh at her for looking like a sap. “For reference, next time.”
She has to admit it’s a nice, if weird, daydream, them meeting as university students. Back then Yoo Sangah had done her best to avoid romantic relationships, because she was sure if she showed even an inkling for it she would end up with the men from her computer science classes draping themselves over her, and that was the last thing she needed. She threw herself into her studies instead, which was productive, if sexually frustrating and immensely boring to look back on.
Now, if she had a hot girl to fuck in the back of a luxury sports car, things may have turned out much more differently.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Sooyoung whines. Sangah’s not sure when they took her shirt and bra off, but she’s hardly complaining. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you. I knew you’d be a total bitch about it!”
“What? I think it’s cute.” Sangah throws her a bone and pushes her finger in, deeper, and by the way Sooyoung scrabbles at her back for purchase Sangah knows it feels good, but nowhere near what she wants. “Very college-ish, doing this in a car. Maybe I should go wear my glasses from back then to make it feel more real?”
Sooyoung jolts. “You had glasses?”
“Blue light is dangerous.” Sangah shifts down. She’s going to regret folding herself up like this so they can both fit on the backseat tomorrow morning, but for now it’s easy to not think about anything when she flicks a tongue over Sooyoung’s nipple. Sooyoung whimpers, tangles a hand in Sangah’s hair, tries to rock down onto Sangah’s hand, and Sangah is really, seriously going to go crazy, right here and now. “Do you want more?”
Sooyoung glares at her again. “Hurry up.”
“What’s the magic word, Sooyoung-ah?”
“You would have made a terrible college girlfriend.”
Is that what we are? “If you can come from just one finger, I’ll bring my glasses next time. Hm?”
“There are just,” Sooyoung pants, “so many things wrong with you,” and then she’s tossing her head to the side, trying to muffle herself in her own shoulder, when Sangah digs her finger as deep in as it can go, her palm brushing Sooyoung’s clit. Sooyoung wraps her arms around her neck and pulls her down for a searing kiss, more teeth than tongue, Sangah’s name a whisper on Sooyoung’s bitten-red lips.
In all honesty, Sangah hadn’t doubted Sooyoung in the least. She’s had the other woman come untouched before, once, though that had admittedly been because she’d been so pent-up it had really only taken a few well-timed words to have her coming apart at Sangah’s feet. This time is no different—Sooyoung is desperate, rocking back and forth, stifled cries turning into stifled sobs, until finally she tightens around Sangah’s finger, pulsing, and Sangah carefully keeps her palm there for Sooyoung to grind down on. “Sangah,” she gasps, cheeks flushed, hair sweat-slick, eyes cloudy, and Sangah feels something in her chest twist and clench.
Beautiful. She’s beautiful. Somehow Sangah always forgets this, because Sooyoung is obsessed with wearing clothes she bought off discount racks and never brushing her hair and cackling like a cheap movie villain. But in moments like these, when Sooyoung is stripped quite literally down of everything but herself—
“Lemme go,” Sooyoung groans. “My whole leg’s gonna cramp like this.”
Right. Moments are momentary. Yoo Sangah pulls her finger out of Han Sooyoung’s soaked cunt, idly licking her hand clean just to see the way Han Sooyoung cycles through at least six different expressions. “I thought you’d be more of a clean freak,” she finally says, sitting up and glancing down at the car seats. No guilt in that expression, for sure.
Yoo Sangah shrugs. “I didn’t bring tissue. Besides, we’ll be using these same seats for the same thing again anyway.”
“Oh, my god. Wow. You really are shameless.” Han Sooyoung slumps onto her side, leaning heavily on Yoo Sangah’s shoulder. “I bet someone saw us,” she says, because she’s also obsessed with ruining the mood. “Film star Yoo Sangah raws someone in the back of her brand new red sports car. Yeah, that’ll make the headlines.”
Yoo Sangah briefly considers throwing a naked Han Sooyoung out onto the concrete and driving away. She lets the woman slide off the seat instead and settle on the floor between Yoo Sangah’s knees instead. “I’ll look forward to it, then.”
“Crazy,” Han Sooyoung mutters, and Yoo Sangah can’t deny it.