Page 132 of A World Apart
Jihoon opened his eyes, looking at me for so long I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me.
“Are you sure?” His voice wavered, though from disbelief or nerves, I couldn’t tell.
But, I was sure. I’d been sure for some time. I lowered my leg from around his waist and put my hand on his chest, gently pushing him away. He took a step back, his arms falling to his sides, his gaze never leaving mine, as if I’d disappear if he looked away.
I reached for his hand and, holding it firmly, I led him down the hallway to my bedroom, the door slightly ajar. I turned on the lamp next to the bed, illuminating the room in a soft, ambient light as Jihoon closed the door behind himself.
Seeing him there, standing in my tiny bedroom should have made him seem larger than life, this internationally famous idol, but instead it had the opposite effect. It made him more real somehow, and for the first time since I’d locked eyes with him in the lobby of Pisces recording studios, it felt like perhaps he could fit into my life, instead of me changing my shape to fit into his.
He looked at me like I was the sun, erasing any feelings I might have had of self-doubt, or self-consciousness. As he watched, I pushed the jumpsuit down the rest of my body, letting it pool at my feet as he did the same. My bra went next, no gimmicks, no nervous smiles, just a simple shedding of clothes. I walked towards him, sliding my hands up his chest, feeling the way his muscles jumped under my touch.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, the words and scene a near mirror of the last time we’d been this close. It made me smile to remember how nervous I’d been then, to compare it with how certain I felt now.
Once again, I took his hand. “Come to bed with me.”
He swallowed, but allowed himself to be led. I crawled onto the bed, backing up until I could comfortably lay down. Jihoon followed me, but remained kneeling, looking down at me with a clear mix of want and nervousness playing across his face. I reached up a hand to pull his face down to mine, silencing his unspoken words with a kiss. With my other hand, I brought his to my breasts, a silent encouragement which he scarcely needed.
What started as gentle, exploratory caresses became more urgent, less finessed, a need to have skin meet skin. My mouth tore from his in a cry as he traced patterns over and around my breasts, the skin there tightening in a way that I felt lower in my core, that building anticipation, and I shuddered. Jihoon trailed his mouth from my jaw, down my throat and then to my breasts, making me cry anew. The sensation of his tongue as it scraped gently across the sensitive peaks, coupled with the way he breathed upon my wet skin was incendiary. I arched my back, pushing my chest against his in a desperate bid to increase the contact.
Fingers danced down my abdomen, drawing lazy circles around my navel until finally they dipped beneath the underwear I still wore.
“Jihoon,” I gasped as his fingers moved down that most sensitive part of me. He groaned and pressed his lips against my neck, moving his hand in a way I thought I might go mad from, the coiling tightness gathering in my centre so acute now. When he dipped a finger inside me, I swore, bucking against his hand.
Too impatient now for the promise of more, “in my drawer.” The words were wrenched from me, I couldn’t have been clearer or eloquent if I’d tried.
Jihoon raised his face to look at me, his eyes searching mine, looking for any lingering doubt. He would never find any. He removed his hand and leaned over me to open the bedside drawer that I had stocked late last night, as per Becka’s thoughtful instruction.
Jihoon sat back on his heels, still wearing his boxers, his own arousal evident. I sat up slightly to lean back on my elbows, watching with a kind of interest as he held the small, foil square. He hesitated a moment before getting off the bed. I was momentarily confused, until he pushed his boxers down, letting them drop to the floor with the rest of our clothes.
He knelt back on the bed and ran his hand softly over my pelvic bone, the slight tickle made me giggle breathlessly.
Putting the foil packet down, he hooked his hands into the waistband of my underwear. He looked up to meet my eyes. I wordlessly nodded, watching as he slid them down my thighs and then off my legs to join his on the floor.
My heart pounded a staccato beat against my throat, only adding to the feeling that I couldn’t get enough air in, but it wasn’t nervousness that made me breathless; it was the sight of Jihoon as he moved to kneel between my legs, carefully nudging them wider with his knees, the stretch aching in a way I had not expected.
He picked up the little gold packet, decisively ripped it open and withdrew the circle from inside. I tried not to stare as he deftly rolled it onto himself, but the interest of a thing unknown was hard to resist.
Then, finally, nothing further awaited, no more preparations to be made. It was now, or it was never and that was unthinkable.
His eyes flashed up to meet my own, a slight frown pulling his eyebrows together.
“Are you sure?” And I knew if I said ‘no,’ he would stop, we would put our clothes back on and he would be fine with it, because it had always been my choice with him.
But I didn’t want to say no. I wanted to say, yes. So, I did. “Yes.”
He lowered himself until he was leaning over me, holding himself up on one elbow, his face so close to mine I could see the way his eyelashes fanned his cheeks.
I felt him then, pressed against me, a strange but not unpleasant sensation. His face was so tense, his eyebrows furrowed together, jaw clenched. I reached up a hand and smoothed my fingers between his brows.
“So serious,” I murmured. He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath, turning his face to kiss my fingers as they trailed down his cheek.
I felt him move, pressing into me, stretching, but not uncomfortable. Not yet.
Jihoon stilled above me, his body shivered against mine, just a pause though, as on my next breath, he withdrew slightly, a sensation I felt more acutely. I gasped, and his eyes shot to mine.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said firmly, if breathlessly. “Don’t stop.”
