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The Paris winter feels harsh against Minjeong's skin as soon as the door opens. The cold is clarifying when she steps out into it, a welcome change to the heat on her skin from the leftover, post-event adrenaline. Immediately, she's engulfed with a cloud of cigarette smoke, and she knows who the culprit is before she even turns her head.
Jimin's standing with her back against the wall, legs crossed when Minjeong turns to look at her. She's wearing her signature cropped leather jacket, her hair down from that sleek bun she'd had in her performance. She looks casual; laidback. Nothing like that untouchable danseuse she was on stage. Minjeong's heart seems to stumble over itself at the sight of her. As it always does whenever she's in Jimin's proximity. An involuntary reaction she couldn't stop even if she tried.
"What are you doing out here?" Minjeong asks, breaking the mutual silence. Jimin looks into her eyes and takes another drag of her cigarette. "Smoking," she replies simply as she blows out, the cloud of smoke blending with the condensation from Minjeong's breath. Minjeong looks around before taking a few steps towards Jimin. She does it cautiously, wanting to be closer but not knowing if it's appropriate. She can never tell where Jimin stands after they compete unless she states it explicitly, and by the looks of it, she doesn't seem to be willing to speak much.
"I thought you quit," Minjeong tries anyway, moving close enough that she's standing in front of her now. She curses herself for her inability to just leave Jimin alone, even though she's been advised to. Even in moments like this when she can sense her presence isn't exactly wanted.
"It's my nerves," Jimin says, tapping the cigarette, dumping the ashes. "You know how I get during comp season." She takes another puff, blowing the smoke towards Minjeong in a way that feels purposeful. Minjeong wants to protest against it; tell Jimin that she should deal with her stress in other ways than this. But she knows it would be redundant. It's not her place to speak on Jimin's coping methods, especially after the events of today. Silence falls between them again, but surprisingly, it doesn't feel uncomfortable or awkward like she'd assumed it would. Jimin's eyes never move from her face, and like a woman entranced, Minjeong can't stop looking at her either. Jimin's eyes drop from her eyes, to her nose, then down to her lips—shamelessly, having no intention to hide her inspection.
"Pretty," she says. A barely audible admission. Falling from her lips like it's the most natural thing in the world for her.
Jimin flips the cigarette around in her fingers so the filter tip faces Minjeong. "Want it?" She offers it up, her voice gentle in a way Minjeong hasn't heard from the older in so long. Minjeong nods before she can think about it. Jimin presses the cigarette against her lips, and Minjeong reluctantly takes it between her fingers. It feels unfamiliar in her grip. She never does this on her own—the last time she'd done it was with Jimin. In fact, the only times she does this is with her. And here they are again, unable to break free from their old habits.
Minjeong inhales and lets it burn her lungs, eyes fluttering shut through the drag. When her eyes open, through the waft of smoke released from her lips, she sees Jimin staring at her with unrevealing eyes. "Congratulations," Jimin eventually tells her. "You were beautiful on that stage," she sighs, pushing herself away from the wall. In her full stature, she towers over Minjeong just slightly, enough that Minjeong has to tilt her head up to look at her.
"You always are." Jimin plucks the cigarette from Minjeong's hand and drops it on the ground, crushing and grinding it with her shoe. "But you know that already." Minjeong's eyes fall to the crushed paper and nicotine; the dying flame by her foot. It feels metaphorical, like a message meant for her she can't decode yet. Jimin takes Minjeong's chin gently between her fingers, canting her head upwards—forcing Minjeong's eyes to meet hers.
She tilts her head, "Why aren't you out celebrating, hm?" And Minjeong can't respond. She can't even begin to form a single sound. Her heartbeat sounds like a drum pounding in her ears, blocking out everything else. Every reasonable response she might have.
"You wanted to see me, didn't you?" It's a rhetorical question, because Jimin knows the answer already. Of course Minjeong wanted to see her. She doesn't know the exact reason as to why—but she knew as soon as she saw Jimin walk out that door, she had to follow. "What, you here to rub it in? Tell me how much better than me you are?" Minjeong starts to shake her head but Jimin tightens her grip to keep her head still.
"Nuh-uh. Don't move. Just look at me." And Minjeong does. She looks. Jimin looks even prettier with her face stripped bare. There's remnants of glitter on it from the makeup she'd worn during her performance. Her cheeks and lips are flushed pink from the cold. Inside her eyes, Minjeong can see the golden reflection of the streetlights. She can also see herself, if she looks hard enough. Minjeong wants her so badly it hurts.
"Your win tonight," Jimin starts, dragging her hand down the length of Minjeong's neck to the dip between her collarbones. A shiver runs down Minjeong's spine that has nothing to do with the cold. "It means nothing to me." She presses her finger in the space harder, enough to create a subtle sting.
"You know why?" Minjeong shakes her head. Jimin smiles, pleased that she's playing along. She leans in closer, close enough that her mouth is by Minjeong's ear. "Because next time I will win," she whispers. Her hand begins its pursuit again, moving lower, and lower—all the way down to Minjeong's waist. She curls her hand around it, brings her closer with her grip, and Minjeong so desperately wants to lean into her and breathe her in. "Unnie..."
"Say it. Say that next time I will beat you."
"You will beat me next time." Jimin backs away from Minjeong's ear as soon as the words come out of her mouth. Her face speaks of arrogance. She looks genuinely proud at Minjeong's obedience—at her complete removal of her own dignity. And it should be enough to turn Minjeong off completely—but it doesn't. Because she likes this act more than she'll admit.
"That's right," Jimin says, releasing Minjeong's waist and taking a step back to establish distance. Minjeong wants to whine at the separation, the cold immediately returning to her body in Jimin's absence. Jimin appears to sense Minjeong's displeasure, because in the next second she's leaning in. She plants a small kiss on the side of her mouth. Then another, fully-fledged one on her lips. Minjeong moans softly into it, the sound being pulled from the depths of her throat. It feels obtrusive in the quiet, and it reminds Minjeong of the forbidden aspect of this. How she shouldn't be here but she is anyway, and how she'd choose this path a thousand times over. Consequences be damned.
When they part, Jimin lingers by her face for a minute. They share their breaths, each pant feeling like a gentle caress against each other's skin. Then, Jimin backs away a final time, shattering the moment just as quickly as she created it. Minjeong doesn't feel the urge to complain or beg for more this time. She can't, really. Not when she can still feel warmth on her lips from Jimin's, and still taste her on her tongue.
"See you in Toulouse." Then she's gone, walking back through that door, leaving nothing but that crushed cigarette, and her tinted lip balm on Minjeong's lips.
The crowd's claps feel deafening in Minjeong's ears. The sound so loud they start to sound like stomps. She watches as Jimin bends over into a deep, elegant bow in front of her, golden medal gleaming around her neck. The French dancers around her make remarks that she can only partially make out. Some overwhelmingly positive, some a little critical—birthed out of envy rather than truth. Jimin won just like she said she would, and while Minjeong didn't doubt it for a second, an uncomfortable feeling still settles in the pit of her stomach at the sight of it.
She knows what her agency will say about her loss, the extremes her instructor will push her to in order to reclaim her crown—make up for the mistakes she made today. She knows what narrative the media will continue to spin. That white versus black swan cliché. Today, they'll speak about the victorious black swan, and her; the white swan scrambling to catch back up. The comparison will never fail to bring a bitter taste to Minjeong's mouth. No true rivalry exists between them, no matter how complicated their relationship may be—especially during competition season. No one knows even half of it, and they probably never will.
As soon as she's off the stage, Minjeong heads to the bathrooms. It's empty when she enters, thankfully, which means she'll have room to think. Alone. She approaches the sink and rests her hands upon the edge of it to ground herself. Her throat feels tight and every breath feels like a struggle, like there's a weight on her sternum she can't remove. She shouldn't feel bad about this. She should be happy. She should go out there and properly congratulate Jimin on her win. And when she does do it, she should do it honestly and not disingenuously.
Minjeong thinks about her own performance. What caused her to end up just a place behind first. She'd messed up. But it was just a small mistake, right? Just a tiny stumble that was barely even noticeable unless you paid close attention. But the judges were watching closely. They saw. They knew, and Minjeong faced the consequences of it.
The door creaks as it's slowly pushed open, loudly announcing another presence. Minjeong's eyes dart to the door, and behind it peeks out Jimin. "Oh? Minjeong-ah," she says upon seeing her, and she doesn't sound surprised in the slightest. "Didn't think I'd see you in here." Minjeong knows she's lying; Jimin definitely sought her out on purpose. Probably saw her rush ahead of everyone as soon as they got off stage and followed her just like Minjeong did with her in Paris.
Jimin saunters up to the sink, arms crossed over her chest. She stands beside Minjeong with her back turned to the mirror without saying another word. She leans against the counter, head turned towards Minjeong. Minjeong looks at her too, looking aglow in her post-victory glory. She's taken off her tutu as well, wearing nothing but a black leotard and dark tights that cling to her figure. She's being blatantly arrogant again, and Minjeong hates herself for finding it attractive despite everything. She forces her eyes away from the older and back to herself in the mirror.
"You won," Minjeong says, voice quiet and almost fragile in the space. "I did," Jimin replies matter-of-factly, dropping her arms by her sides to grip the edge of the counter. Jimin taps her finger against the marble, filling the silence with a gentle tap-tap-tap sound that feels almost like mockery. Congratulations, Minjeong wants to say, but the word gets stuck in her throat.
"Are you happy?" Minjeong asks instead. Jimin hums, searching for an answer in her head. "I could be," she admits, and this catches Minjeong's attention. She looks over at Jimin again, only to find the older looking at her with a small, almost sinister smile on her face. She looks like she's plotting something and whatever it is, Minjeong is the pawn in it.
Jimin stands upright and walks up behind Minjeong, close enough that Minjeong's back is practically pressed against her front. "I want a gift," Jimin states, staring into Minjeong's eyes through their reflection. "I won't see you for a while," she pauses, "after we leave France." She pushes Minjeong's hair over her shoulder, admiring her work in the mirror.
Minjeong takes a deep breath. "What gift?" she asks, her voice a little shaky, betraying her anticipation for Jimin's answer.
Jimin sighs thoughtfully, placing a gentle hand on Minjeong's nape. The sudden touch makes Minjeong flinch at first, but her body quickly relaxes after it recognizes who the touch belongs to. She runs her hand along the curve of Minjeong's shoulder, then trails her hand downwards into the dip of Minjeong's spine. She follows the line of Minjeong's back as if her fingers were driftwood, and Minjeong's spine a current. Minjeong inhales sharply, her back inadvertently arching into the touch.
"You."
Minjeong turns around so quickly she almost gives herself whiplash, dislodging Jimin's hand from her back. She's breathing heavily now, and her heart feels as if it's going to beat out of her chest. "What? No, that's—we can't do that here," Minjeong replies, eyes darting to the door once more. She's being overtly cautious, she knows. The chances of anyone walking into this bathroom is basically slim to none. Most dancers prefer to use the ones in the changing rooms as to these, dim, small ones that are further out. The ones that promote secrecy—perfect for them and what they do.
"I know," Jimin says, but she moves closer anyway. She's a master of contradiction in that way; saying one thing but always doing another. Before Minjeong can say anything else, Jimin's placing her hands on Minjeong's hips and holstering her up onto the edge of the counter like she weighs nothing. She steps between Minjeong's open legs, standing there as if she belongs there. And then Jimin's lips are on hers. The kiss isn't sweet, or soft. It feels like Jimin's trying to establish her dominance—fortify her victory. But Minjeong melts into it anyway, places her hands on Jimin's shoulders to bring her closer. Lets herself be utterly devoured this way—forgetting all of her inhibitions just like that.
Jimin grabs Minjeong's jaw and tilts her head to deepen the kiss. Jimin's lips feel like a release, like the solution to every single one of her concerns. She immediately forgets her anger from earlier, every bitter remark she had stored in her head. Maybe she needed this. Maybe all her frustrations at Jimin's win earlier was due to the lack of real touches they've had lately.
Jimin departs from the kiss, placing her thumb underneath Minjeong's damp, red lips. "Want my tongue?" she asks, voice low and slightly breathy. Minjeong nods pathetically. "Ask for it," Jimin commands.
"Want your tongue, please?" Minjeong murmurs, leaning in to chase Jimin's lips but the older slightly moves her head backwards, preventing Minjeong from getting closer.
"Where?" Jimin tilts her head, rubbing her thumb against Minjeong's bottom lip now.
"In my mouth. Please, unnie." Jimin leans back in at that, looking up at Minjeong through her lashes as she teasingly runs her tongue over Minjeong's bottom lip. Minjeong whines, asking for more without stating it directly. Jimin laughs, "So desperate," and Minjeong can't even deny it. Jimin kisses her again, this time deceptively slow—still refusing to give Minjeong what she wants. "Unnie," Minjeong says after they part for a breath, "I asked nicely."
"Mm, you did," Jimin says, "But I want to drag it out—keep kissing you." She presses a chaste kiss against Minjeong's lips. "I like it when you're needy like this."
"We don't have time," Minjeong reminds her, eyes darting to the door once more. It's not long before their absence will be questioned, and Jimin is especially running on limited time. The reminder is enough to motivate her, as Jimin shortly gives in after that. She presses her thumb into the skin beneath Minjeong's lips and tugs downward, opening her mouth. Then, she's pushing into Minjeong's mouth with her tongue. Minjeong gladly lets her, moaning into it in a way that's unmistakably lewd to anyone with ears. Jimin grabs her waist and slightly brings her close, but it's not enough for Minjeong.
She places her hands on top of Jimin's hands and moves them lower so that they rest upon her hips. "Here," Minjeong breaks the kiss to whisper. Jimin grips Minjeong's hips and uses it to pull her even closer. They're practically enveloping each other's spaces entirely now. Minjeong can feel Jimin's chest pressing against her own—the rapid rise and fall of it from her own quick breaths. She's affected by Minjeong's presence just as Minjeong is by hers. Minjeong feels a sort of satisfaction at that—a possessive streak that only comes out of her in her most deprived moments. She usually tries to suppress it, but in moments like this; when Jimin's attention is directed onto her and her only, it's difficult to.
As the kiss progresses, Minjeong feels herself growing restless, her body itching for more. She's not being subtle in the slightest, and Jimin picks up on it fairly quickly. She slips her hand down Minjeong's front slowly, pausing just slightly above Minjeong's crotch. Minjeong's legs part for it instinctively, heart beating a fast rhythm from the anticipation of the touch alone. Jimin's hand still doesn't move down further despite it being just an inch or two away from where Minjeong wants it most. She feels strongly compelled to make a fuss—tell Jimin to get on with it and touch her—but then she realizes that it's because the older intends for her to take the initiative. Minjeong parts from Jimin's lips and nods; lets her know that she wants it, and pulls her back in for more.
Jimin's hand finally slips between Minjeong's legs, cupping Minjeong's mound through the fabric. She applies a gentle pressure—pressing against her clit and providing this light, barely there pleasure that Minjeong needs more of. She does an experimental roll of her hips, then another when Jimin doesn't stop her. She grinds against Jimin's hand in an increasingly frantic rhythm, chasing her own pleasure without shame. Jimin's hand has to hurt a little, being pushed down into the marble with every downwards grind. She appears to be willing to endure it though, letting Minjeong use her hand to get herself off.
"Is this okay?" Minjeong asks Jimin anyway, panting against her lips. The older woman breaks into a smile instead of responding, cocking her head in a mocking manner.
"Look at you," Jimin coos, and Minjeong does. She looks down at herself, watches as she ruts on Jimin's palm. "Said that we shouldn't do this here, but here you are, trying to make yourself come just from grinding against my hand." Admittedly, the idea doesn't sound all that bad to Minjeong now. All the worry she'd had prior thrown out the window in minutes.
"You want that?" Jimin asks, holding the idea above her head, knowing Minjeong will reach for it. "You want to come on my hand?
Before Minjeong can respond, there's the distinct sound of an entourage of footsteps in the distance—quickly growing closer to them. "Wait—unnie, I hear people," Minjeong says, pleasure quickly turning into panic, "Let's stop." Minjeong places a gentle hand onto Jimin's arm, and pushes her back slightly. Jimin doesn't protest, immediately retracting her hands from Minjeong's body. The removal is so sudden that Minjeong's body is still reeling, still wanting—but her mind knows that it's too risky to chase. No matter how much her body is begging for more.
Jimin looks slightly pissed at the interruption, and even more so when the footsteps walk right past the bathroom. "I'm sorry. It's not that I didn't want it, it's just..." Minjeong feels the urge to explain herself, but before she can continue her imminent rambling Jimin stops her. "Minjeong-ah."
"I understand. Not here. Not when we can easily get caught," Jimin repeats Minjeong's words from before, but she follows them this time—taking a step back and creating distance. The separation still hurts a little, even though Minjeong had asked for it.
"114. That's my room number," Jimin continues, resting her hand on Minjeong's knee. The touch makes Minjeong's breath hitch, her body still wired from the lack of release. "We'll continue this there. I still want my gift," she says, smug in a way that makes Minjeong want to punch her and kiss her too. Minjeong takes a deep breath, and looks down at her lap. Jimin's room is only a few digits above her own, which means she could probably sneak out, get there relatively fast, and avoid suspicion. "Okay..." Minjeong agrees after her mental deliberation and Jimin smiles, pleased. Her hand caresses the joint before she unhands Minjeong once more. "Will you be there? At midnight?"
"Yeah, I'll be there."
The hotel is too quiet when Minjeong exits her room, the sound of her door closing practically resonating throughout the hall. She stands by her door and scans the area, looking down both directions. Nothing. She skitters down the hallway, scanning each door for Jimin's number. Thankfully, she spots it quickly, only having to take a few steps to get there. She stops and looks around once more, ensuring that there's absolutely no witnesses; no one that will ask any questions upon seeing her out her room. When she finds no one, she approaches Jimin's door. The door opens immediately when Minjeong tries the handle, and she knows that was an intentional act on Jimin's part.
She enters the room, swiftly shutting the door with a decisive click. "Unnie?" Minjeong calls out, locking the door behind her.
When Minjeong rounds the corner there's Jimin, laid out on the bed in nothing but her bra and panties. Minjeong's jaw drops at the sight before she can help it, and Jimin, noticing it, laughs. "What? You act like you've never seen me like this before."
"And look at yourself," Jimin continues, scanning her body from head to toe. "Did anyone see you like that?" she asks, not out of concern for them possibly getting caught; but out of concern for someone else seeing Minjeong in such a revealing outfit. Minjeong can understand the concern. She is wearing nothing but a small camisole and a pair of short shorts. She figured she didn't need to put on much. Not if she would just end up taking it off later.
"I don't think so, no," Minjeong replies, looking back up to Jimin. "Good. Come here."
Minjeong walks towards the bed upon command, and when she gets there she sits on the edge of the bed. Still maintaining a slight distance even though she moved closer. She feels a little shy under Jimin's gaze—even though Jimin just had her tongue in her mouth a few hours ago. It's been a while since they've actually been together like this—for this purpose at that. Everything feels different knowing Jimin's intentions with her tonight.
"No," Jimin says, dragging the word out. "Here." She pats her lap, beckoning Minjeong to sit as if she's a pet rather than human. But Minjeong listens to her anyway, lifting her feet off the floor and crawling towards Jimin on the bed. She swings her leg over Jimin's hip, sitting on top of her lap just like she'd been commanded to. Jimin slides her hands up Minjeong's thighs, ultimately resting her hands on Minjeong's hips. Jimin's looking at her intensely. and Minjeong feels as if she could strip her bare with her stare alone. Minjeong closes her eyes and looks away, feeling overwhelmed and partially embarrassed at the attention.
"Minjeong-ah." Jimin grips Minjeong's hips tighter. "Don't close your eyes," she commands, "Look at me."
When her eyes open she meets Jimin's eyes, still looking into her own deeply like she's trying to read her thoughts. It feels too intimate for what they are to each other, and Minjeong wants to close her eyes again just so she doesn't have to face it.
"I missed you so much," Jimin admits, completely unprompted, and she looks surprised that she said it herself.
"You missed me?" she asks, doubt and eagerness equally evident in her voice. Trying to be casual, but failing miserably. Jimin nods, "Of course I did." And Minjeong can't sense any insincerity in her words. "You've seen me multiple times now," Minjeong responds, trying to lessen the weight of the admission. But Jimin doubles down.
"I meant before that. When we didn't see each other for months." Minjeong doesn't like to think back to that time. She'd actually begun to crave the drama forced upon them in those months, because as long as they were 'fighting' it meant she was able to see Jimin. "We didn't even compete," Jimin continues, "and I spent everyday missing you until Paris." One-hundred and fifty-five days she spent missing her. It doesn't feel real to think about.
"I thought you were upset with me. In Paris." Minjeong says instead of saying that she missed her too. Admitting that feels like she's recognizing something she doesn't think she's geared to do yet.
"I was," Jimin says, honestly. "It's been a minute since we last faced off against each other, so I didn't want to lose. But I did, and I was bitter about it." There's more to it that Jimin isn't telling her. Jimin has always been the one to tell Minjeong that the press' rivalry shtick is bullshit, so why did it bother her then?
"Congratulations," Minjeong says instead of inquiring, "I didn't say it before."
"Didn't need you to." She sits up suddenly, and Minjeong's breath catches at their new proximity. They're face to face now. "You're congratulating me by being here," Jimin says, flipping them around so Minjeong's laying on her back where she once was. "And letting me touch you." Jimin leans down for a kiss, and Minjeong melts into it easily. Jimin interlocks their fingers and places Minjeong's hands beside her head.
"And now," she continues, releasing Minjeong's hands and beginning her descent down Minjeong's body with sharp eyes. The ones that make Minjeong feel like prey, made for Jimin to devour. A victim of natural selection. "I'm going to show you just how much I appreciate you."
Jimin tucks her fingers underneath the waistband of Minjeong's shorts and panties, tugging both of them down in one go. Immediately, the exposure makes Minjeong want to close her legs and cover herself. And she tries to, but Jimin holds them open with strict hands on her inner thighs. "No, baby. Keep them open for me."
"Sorry," Minjeong mumbles a quick apology. She wills herself to keep her legs still; to be the best she can be for Jimin. This is her gift to the older, and she doesn't plan on ruining it.
"You're so wet already," Jimin whispers against her exposed skin, coaxing a shiver through Minjeong's body. She is, has been ever since she'd thought about this in her hotel room. Since she'd thought about what Jimin would do to her once they were alone like this. Jimin doesn't even have to touch her for Minjeong to get this way, and Minjeong knows that Jimin knows it too. If they had the time, Jimin would probably even drag it out. Refuse to touch her until Minjeong's pussy is practically sopping with it, and Minjeong herself is pleading for it.
"Cause of me?" Jimin asks, for no reason at all other than bragging rights if Minjeong's ever bratty with her again in the future. "Only because of you," Minjeong confirms.
"That's right. You only get this wet because of me, and you'll only come because of me too." Minjeong can't retort. She couldn't possibly, because even in the moments she'd gotten herself off, it was to the thought of Jimin.
Jimin slides her hands underneath Minjeong's thighs, easing them up and over her shoulders. Her hands slip around to grip the front of her thighs, holding Minjeong in place against her. The sight is borderline erotic; Jimin's nails digging into her skin, her dark long hair pooled over her shoulders, eyes coated with desire—fixated solely on Minjeong, tongue darting out to lick her lips like she's genuinely craving Minjeong like sustenance.
"Please," Minjeong whispers. And that's all it takes.
As soon as Jimin's mouth is on her, Minjeong lets out a noise she can't help—eyes fluttering shut from the feeling of it all. Jimin slides her tongue between Minjeong's folds, licking a stripe up to her clit. Minjeong shakes at the feeling, every nerve on her body feeling like live wire. She doesn't know if it's because of the time they'd spent apart, or if it's just because it's Jimin's mouth on her. Maybe it's both.
Minjeong slaps a hand over her mouth then decidedly covers it with her forearm, desperately trying to muffle the sounds she's making. When Minjeong opens her eyes and looks down, Jimin looks upset at the decision. Minjeong knows she wants to hear her, craves that little bit of validation even if she won't admit it aloud. But their situation is dire, and any suspicious noise from here would be damning if anyone heard. Jimin distracts herself by doubling her efforts, and Minjeong couldn't be more proud of her prior choice to shut herself up.
The sensation against her clit feels so fucking good, too good that Minjeong wants to squirm away from it, but Jimin glares at her and slightly shakes her head. "Still," she stops to say. Her hand trails up Minjeong's abdomen and presses down as if to hold her in place. "Good girl," Jimin mumbles when Minjeong's hips stop their movement, promptly diving back in with the same fervor as before.
Jimin looks lost in it, eating Minjeong out like she's bonne bouche. Switching between lapping up Minjeong's wetness and delving her tongue between her folds. Jimin slips her hand underneath Minjeong's cami, trailing it up until she reaches her breast. Her hand practically engulfs the soft mound, staking her ownership over as many parts of Minjeong as she can. Consistently greedy when it comes to her, and Minjeong is inclined on letting her take and take.
"Unnie," Minjeong pants, placing her hand atop of Jimin's under her cami to ground herself. Jimin squeezes at her breast, prompting Minjeong to continue. "I'm close."
Jimin blinks up at her at that, and the look in her eyes is almost enough to bring Minjeong over then and there. Jimin hums, acknowledging her declaration. She presses her tongue against Minjeong's clit once more before sucking the bud into her mouth. She's moving with purpose now, trying to bring Minjeong over. Minjeong's unbelievably wet now, coated with Jimin's saliva and her own arousal. She's undoubtedly staining the sheets, and she has half the mind to feel shameful about it.
The other half is muddled with pleasure—every coherent thought going back to the woman between her legs. She wants to beg but her words fail her, the only sounds spilling from her mouth being pathetic pants and stifled moans of pleasure. Please, don't stop, please, she pleads internally, thighs shaking on Jimin's shoulders with every flick of the older's tongue.
"Jimin," Minjeong breathes out, squeezing her hand around Jimin's. "I'm—I'm gonna..." she trails off, hardly able to string her words together. "Please, can I come?" She manages after she recollects herself.
Jimin hums again unrevealingly, providing a light vibration against her clit that makes Minjeong's composure slip momentarily. But Minjeong holds back, keen on waiting for the green light; for Jimin to grant her approval verbally. Jimin comes back up for a proper breath, lips shiny with Minjeong's juices. "You wanna come?" She goads, and Minjeong feels the overwhelming petulant urge to whine and squirm. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, the word repeats like a mantra in her head.
Minjeong nods vehemently instead of acting out her urges, "So badly."
"Such a good girl," Jimin mumbles a praise against her heated skin, pressing a light kiss on Minjeong's clit. "Such a good gift for me." She presses another, soft, seemingly innocent kiss to the sensitive bud.
"Come for me, then." Minjeong's comes just like that, from Jimin's words and nothing else. She trembles in waves, back bowing into a gentle arch at the sensation running through her body. Jimin caresses her thigh softly, holding her through it all. When she finally comes down; when the clouds depart—every part of her body relaxes completely. She could practically melt into the bedsheets, her body feeling weightless and heavy all at once. Jimin retracts her hands from Minjeong's breast and thigh in exchange for sitting upright, and Minjeong immediately misses her touch.
Minjeong's eyes trail down her body, undisguisedly gawking at the older. Minjeong really doesn't like to get her hopes up. She really, really doesn't. There's a world of people out there who would undoubtedly provide better entertainment for her than Minjeong. All of this is just circumstantial—a compromise because they have the same profession. It started from boredom, anyway, and that's all it can continue to be. Fucking around when they need a fix or a de-stressor. It can't be anything more than that.
But the fact that Jimin, unbelievably gorgeous, talented Jimin who could have anyone she wants chooses Minjeong time and time again. Chooses these secretive nights with Minjeong over the easy route, over finding someone she can be public with and leaving Minjeong. And afterwards, when time passes, regarding her as nothing but that one ballet dancer she competed against who she just happened to fuck too. Jimin doesn't want that. She doesn't want easy. She wants Minjeong.
Jimin wipes the remainder of Minjeong's release off her lips onto her thumb and places it onto Minjeong's bottom lip. Minjeong opens her mouth for the digit, sucking it into her mouth and tasting herself on her tongue. "Fuck," Jimin marvels. She presses her thumb down on Minjeong's tongue, only releasing when Minjeong's eyes begin to water. She removes her finger from her mouth and climbs up, caging Minjeong in with hands beside her head.
"Can I get you off? Please, unnie?" She asks, having realized that Jimin hasn’t come yet. As soon as she gets the nod of approval, she slips her hand past the waistband of Jimin's panties. Jimin's soaked, wet enough already just from eating Minjeong out that the slide is easy. Minjeong strokes Jimin's clit, lacking finesse from her inexperience, but Jimin sounds like she's enjoying it anyway. Letting out these breathy moans in Minjeong's ear that stirs arousal up within her again despite her exhaustion. Constant praises slip from her mouth; how Minjeong's doing so well, making her feel so good, how she's going to come soon just from this.
When she does; she lets out a final soft sigh, mindfully toppling on top of Minjeong so she doesn't crush her. Jimin nestles her nose into Minjeong's neck, releasing gentle puffs of air against her skin that could nearly will her to sleep. Minjeong retracts her hand, wiping the remaining wetness off on her shirt. She wraps her arms around Jimin's shoulders, needing her to be close. The older follows suit, moving her hands down to hug Minjeong's waist, adjusting her position so the both of them can comfortably rest against each other.
They lay in silence together for what feels like hours but it's really only minutes. Breathing each other in like they have all the time in the world, but it has to be past midnight now, and they both have an early flight back to South Korea in a few hours. Jimin rouses first, planting her hands on the bed beside Minjeong's waist to lift herself up and roll over onto her back. Minjeong's suddenly, uncomfortably aware of her state of undress in their departure.
Jimin, sensing her discomfort asks: "You want to shower here? I have some clothes you can wear so you don't have to go back." Minjeong nods curtly, her embarrassment from before coming back tenfold. Jimin lifts the cover over Minjeong's bottom half and slides off the bed, walking to the front of the room. She kneels in front of her suitcase, unzipping it and pulling out clothes for Minjeong except a bra. When she returns to the bed, she presses the clothes in Minjeong's hand gently.
"Should we shower together? It'll make it quicker for the both of us." Jimin asks, and Minjeong had a feeling Jimin was intending for this to happen. Minjeong nods at the idea instead of speaking, and Jimin is fast to show her disapproval. "Tell me, don't just agree because I'm suggesting it."
"Yes. I want to shower together," Minjeong says, and Jimin walks back to the front of the room. She reopens her suitcase and searches for clothes for herself. "You can get it ready. Set the temperature however you like, it doesn't matter to me." Minjeong follows her orders sheepishly, walking with quick steps to the bathroom. She places her (Jimin's) clothes on the counter and moves to turn on the water. She holds her hand underneath the water until it burns, then promptly lowers the heat so it's warm instead of scalding. Jimin enters the bathroom shortly after with her clothes in hand. She sets them down on the counter beside Minjeong's clothes and looks at the younger expectantly.
"Ladies first," she says, like she isn't a lady herself. They both know Jimin really just wants to see Minjeong strip for her. Minjeong lifts her camisole up and off her head, standing in the middle of the room entirely naked now.
"Afterglow looks pretty on you, Minjeong-ah," Jimin says, eyes trailing over Minjeong's light, lean muscles, shamelessly stopping on her exposed breasts.
Minjeong steps into the shower instead of saying her thanks—cheeks burning not from the temperature. Jimin steps in not too long afterwards, standing behind her but not touching. Minjeong's eyes flutter shut underneath the spray, letting the water soak into her skin and wash the residue of their night off of her body.
"You have bruises. On the back of your feet," Jimin states, picking up the soap and slathering it over the washcloth. It's her own scent she most likely brought from home. Minjeong's body buzzes with anticipation at the thought of Jimin's scent being on her body. "Are they overworking you again?" Jimin's genuine concern snaps Minjeong out of her trance. She's bathing Minjeong's body now, scrubbing her skin gently but firmly.
"Yeah," Minjeong admits, walls completely down in her post-orgasmic state. Jimin didn't need the confirmation. She knew already. Minjeong's agency want her to be the epitome of perfection. Expect her to be that textbook ballet dancer you see on the websites. Perfect high instep, perfect pointe every single time, perfect ankle flexibility. Things that Minjeong can't achieve even if she tries because she'll just end up hurting herself. Jimin's agency isn't far off from hers, but their respect for Jimin often overrides their insane expectations. Minjeong has thought about leaving her own for Jimin's, but she could never bring herself to do it. The gesture always felt too grand. Like it wouldn't just be about switching agencies for supposed better treatment.
"Well, you're with me now, so just relax," Jimin whispers into her ear. She doesn't ramble about Minjeong's agency like she usually would, and Minjeong is glad to move on from the topic. Jimin washes Minjeong and lets Minjeong do the same to her, and they exit the shower before their fingers begin to prune up. Jimin's clothes slightly hang off Minjeong's frame when she puts them on, and Jimin is entirely too pleased at the sight of it when she catches it in the mirror.
"It's going to swallow you up, Minjeong-ah." She holds Minjeong's hand to lift her arm, just to see how the sweater drapes down from it, almost like wings.
"You sized up," Minjeong mumbles out an excuse, moving the collar of the shirt up so it doesn't risk exposing her cleavage. "Non, ma petite. It's just the way you are," Jimin drops her arm and says, teasingly. But it lands like something else on Minjeong's ears. It's the same way she feels whenever Jimin calls her baby during sex. Minjeong blinks the thought away.
They finish up their night side by side. Dry their hair, brush their teeth, and Jimin does her skincare routine that Minjeong decides she can skip for one night. It feels intimate. This night isn't anything like they've had before. The last time they showered together, Jimin had her fingers inside her and Minjeong had to get back to her room in less than ten minutes. She'd run back to her room with that feeling lingering within her, and ended up showering again on her own before knocking out. They never have enough time to do this together. And Minjeong is pretty sure this is the first time she's ever seen Jimin's night routine ever.
"I want you to sleep here," Jimin says simply, taking her pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket that she definitely isn't supposed to have in here. Minjeong sits down on the edge of the bed, the weight of the night crashing down on her all at once. "It's more convenient," Jimin continues. "You can sneak out in the morning before everyone wakes." Jimin wants her to stay now. When has that ever happened? Jimin senses the shift in Minjeong's demeanor, placing her cigarettes back in the pocket and directing her all of her attention onto the younger. She approaches Minjeong beside the bed. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she says, but it doesn't sound all that convincing. "Yeah," she repeats with more conviction now. "It's just..." Jimin tilts her head, encouraging Minjeong to complete her thought.
"What happens? When we return." Jimin exhales through her nose, nodding like she'd expected this but still displeased that it took this route. The reaction doesn't discourage Minjeong. "How long do we have to go no-contact?" She continues. "I mean, you said that you missed me for five months, unnie. Five. But it doesn't have to be that way anymore, right?"
"Minjeong-ah," Jimin sighs after a brief moment of silence, the breath filled with resignation rather than frustration this time. "My management would kill me. Both of ours would." Minjeong hates that it's true. If they figured out that Jimin and Minjeong were in contact again after being strictly advised not to, it could be over for them just like that. Years of hard work; training abroad, injuries, contracting, competitions, reputation building—gone. This is her life. She loves ballet. But she loves Jimin too.
"They're going to sell this black swan and white swan contention until we retire," she continues, effectively redirecting Minjeong's attention from her epiphany. "The public will continue to paint you as this innocent damsel, and me as this 'seductress of man,'" she says the title mockingly, inciting a soft laugh from Minjeong despite the gravity of their conversation. "And that's okay. We have to be okay with it. God forbid they figure out what we truly are to each other." And Minjeong knows they're not talking about their agencies anymore. Because although their agencies would be extremely displeased at that development, it would never amount to the hatred they'd receive from the public. Most of all from their conservative home country insistent on flawless, un-touchable representatives.
"So we'll continue to meet like this," Jimin gestures around the room. "For the rest of this competition season, give or take." They sit in silence for a bit after that, the truth feeling like ice against Minjeong's heart.
"My agency has plans to release these articles early next year," Jimin finally speaks after a minute, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. "It'll be about me and this Korean-American actor. They're going to hire paparazzi and 'catch us' having dinner." Minjeong feels her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. She unconsciously shakes her head, her body reacting to the information before her brain, but Jimin continues. "I'll move to the states and I'll stay there for the third quarter of the year. Maybe the fourth as well, they haven't decided yet."
"But," Minjeong tries, her throat feeling tight. "That's so far." Minjeong can deal with the idea of Jimin being away from her; somewhere in Europe while Minjeong's back home in Korea. But transatlantic? Hours apart? When Jimin wakes up and when Minjeong sleeps? It feels worse, especially with zero contact.
"I know," Jimin sighs again, but this one feels less serious. Less damned. Like she's thinking of a joke no one knows but herself. "But you know where you'll be for the summer of next year?"
Minjeong furrows her brows at the inquiry about herself, but she still answers. "I'll be..." Minjeong stops. She thinks about her whereabouts, the agencies' plan for her next year. "In the states," she exclaims once she recalls, having momentarily forgotten the plans because she'd been so upset about it initially. "New York. For my summer training." Jimin nods, a large smile erupting on her face that Minjeong matches. Minjeong had mentioned it to her briefly months ago. She's surprised and elated that Jimin remembered.
"So when this season ends." Jimin sits down on the bed beside Minjeong, placing her hand on Minjeong's thigh. "After our last comp, we'll contact each other again. And we'll meet up in New York when time permits."
"Can you wait until then?" Jimin asks, and Minjeong mulls over the question. Can she? Will she be so impatient that she'll drive herself crazy thinking about it? Can she deal with the idea of Jimin being with someone else, even if she knows that it's PR? She considers all of them and ultimately decides that, yes. She can wait because she loves Jimin, and that epiphany feels like the easiest thing in the world now. Like the lens blur clearing, and the camera finally focusing on the image. She loves Jimin. And if this is what she has to bear—even if it's for the rest of their careers, and she never finds out if Jimin reciprocates her feelings or not—she'll do it.
"I can wait."