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Ahwi doesn’t indulge in much. His time serving in the ROK Army—in the godforsaken GP, no less—left him content with rudiments and grateful for anything beyond the bare necessities.
He has no want for a lavish life with tailor-fit suits and chauffeurs as a daily occurrence, which is why he wonders how he found himself in the middle of it all. A direct observer of the moneyed and the prosperous.
He doesn’t complain. Not when he can’t ever deny that watching his chaebol girlfriend get ready falls under life’s greatest pleasures.
Amongst other things.
Chungah pads barefoot across the vast suite in her underthings, several dresses in tow.
‘Gave the stylist the day off today, with all the mess we made last night,’ she had signed, dropping an accusing glare that contradicted the blush on her cheeks.
Ahwi had pulled her closer and pinched her chin.
“Is that a complaint?” He mumbled, signing.
Chungah only grinned and left the bed.
He had a nice view of her ass from where he lay. He feels himself growing hard again, his morning wood encouraged by the sight.
There’s a small pout reflected on the mirror as she swaps outfit to outfit.
He slips a hand under the blankets and slowly starts pumping.
He would have offered help, no matter how insignificant his advice probably was, but once in a while, he finds the need to indulge.
She narrows her selection down to two and spreads them out on the bed, considering them seriously.
The subtle movement under the sheets catches her eye. She snaps her face to him. Ahwi feels like a naughty kid caught red-handed.
‘Are you jacking off while I prepare?’
He strokes a little harder, signs with one hand ‘And if I am?’
‘You’re insufferable.’
It’s a long shot, but he asks, ‘Won’t you help me out?’
‘No,’ she smirks. ‘Still got to pick out accessories and do my makeup. Besides, you’re the best at what you do. Keep it up.’ And she walks back to the closet.
His mouth drops at her sass, hands stilling underneath the blankets. His attitude was rubbing off on her.
Seeing that she won’t be hopping on his dick anytime this morning, he makes quick of his erection, trying to mimic her nimble fingers and groaning in frustration when it doesn’t feel half as good when she does it.
He closes his eyes, tries quickening his pace. He pulls up the picture of her beneath him last night: hair fanned out, bangs amiss, mouth half-open as he thrust into her repeatedly.
The noises she made. Noises only he would ever hear. Light whimpers, pinched moans.
He circles his thumb across the head of his cock, pretending it’s her tongue. It titillates him near the edge.
The fact that she’s just in the other room sends him insane. He could go and bend her over right now. It would be so easy to slip in—he doubts she isn’t wet, that it didn’t turn her on when she caught him masturbating to her first thing in the morning.
But he won’t. He knew this was an important event. He was mature enough to not let his girlfriend be late just because he was being a needy sleaze.
He pumps his cock faster, thinking how she’s grown into the person she’s been working towards her entire life. Her bright eyes whenever she showed him her plans. How everyone in the room visibly trusted her. The role model she was to many.
At the same time: how different she was when it was just the two of them. How submissive, how eager to please, how ready she always was for him. He wanted to make her feel good, let her fall onto him, shower her with praise.
His adorable Chungah. A writhing mess.
He groans, deep and full, “Chungah-ya.”
Ahwi comes. The release makes him heady. His hands grow sloppy as he pumps out his release.
Chungah walks back out. To his dismay, she has a pair of shorts hiding her ass.
She eyes his fucked out expression from the mirror. ‘Done already?’
‘Yup.’
‘That was fast,’ she snorted. ‘Zip me up?’
Ahwi pulls a sheet of tissue to quickly clean himself up and saunters over in nothing but his underwear.
Chungah, quite used to the sight, isn’t all that bothered by the softening bulge in his boxer shorts. Ahwi steadies her by the waist and zips her up in a pretty white dress that frames her perfectly. He gives her shoulder a little peck to signal he’s done.
She turns to him and smiles in thanks, and he feels embarrassed to admit that the sight gets his heart going more than his little orgasm did. He pulls her by the waist and captures her lips into a long, deep kiss.
Once they come up for air, they simply stare at each other. Her small hands run up and down his biceps, soft fingers trailing along grazed skin. The mirror gives him a generous view of his side; scars that stretch the expanse of his arm like discombobulated lightning rods and end in rough blisters covering the back of his hand.
It’s hideous. Grotesque, even. Sometimes, he forgets he once vowed to make sure the monstrosity branded on his arms never sees the light of day.
Chungah wrecks a lot of his plans.
He stops bothering with his reflection and turns to look at her.
“Good morning, Yoon Chungah,” he says softly.
Chungah scrunches her nose. ‘Morning breath.’
“Brat,” he smiles and bumps his forehead to hers. She grins back.
‘Please put on some clothes.’
Had anyone else told him this, he would have gone berserk, would have assumed they wanted him to cover up for different reasons.
But it’s only Chungah. Ahwi knows she just wants him to put his dick away.
‘We’re not running late, are we?’
She taps her phone. ‘We’ve got a little over an hour before the fundraiser—’
He pulls her in for another kiss.
Unsurprised, she melts into him easily, indulging him. He presses a little deeper, sucking. Chungah’s so glad she hasn’t started on her makeup.
When his tongue starts running across her bottom lip, she pushes him away, knowing where this leads to.
‘Wash up!’ She laughs.
Ahwi huffs, “fine.”
Before he heads to the bathroom, he smoothens down her dress, combs his hand through her hair to detangle any knots.
Chungah watches him in the mirror fondly.
Then, always tempted at the sight of her bare skin, he plants a kiss on her nape before resting his chin on her bare shoulder and looking at their reflection.
“Pretty,” He mouths. Her cheeks go warm. She pats the side of his cheek affectionately and signs, ‘I haven’t got any makeup on though?’
Ahwi gives her a severe look. She smiles cheekily.
‘You’re pretty handsome, too, Sergeant Shin.’
He tongues the side of his cheek at her little schtick. “Don’t.”
Undeterred, she continues. ‘Don’t they teach you proper hygiene in the army? Or is it a GP thing?’
This girl. He starts tickling the top of her neck with his face—an extremely weak point. Chungah keels over immediately, bending over while he holds her by the waist.
He stops right before she begins smacking his chest. She does not look impressed.
‘You’ll look even more charming after freshening up.’
“You don’t give up, don’t you.”
Finally, he straightens her up and ruffles her hair, ruining whatever he straightened out a few moments earlier.
-
Chungah’s in the middle of applying gloss when he emerges out of the shower, towel hung low around his waist.
She shakes her hand in signed applause. ‘There’s my Ahwi,’ she signs.
His lips quirk at the sight of his name. Selfless ally.
He changes into a crisp, light blue button-up and light trousers to match.
Then, after some consideration, he slips next to Chungah and applies moisturizer like she taught him eons ago.
Chungah stares at him funnily. He never puts on moisturizer.
He pats the essence onto his face menacingly, eyeing her with a look that says See, I can do hygiene.
Chungah laughs. Shin Ahwi can be cute sometimes.
-
They each do one final check in the mirror. It doesn’t miss Chungah’s eye how much their colors complement each other.
‘We look like a team,’ she signs, looking incredibly pleased.
‘You don’t call me your ally for nothing.’
The words have a strange effect on her. Ahwi catches the emotion behind her eyes and it tugs a heartstring.
He gives her a small smile, and Chungah knows he means it.
Her phone vibrates. Miss Yoon, the chairman is looking for you.
‘We have to go.’
‘I really can’t kiss you?’
‘Later, Sergeant,’ Chungah signs, clear and warning. She had makeup on this time. Though there’s a playful glint in her eye.
Ahwi nods and stops asking. He was used to making small sacrifices, anyway.