[Fic] Linking In
Title: Linking In
Author: Coley Merrin
Pairing: Tablo/Girl!Eunhyuk
Rating: R
Warning: for girl!Hyuk
Sequel to Arms
***
7.
Daniel coming home from work was a momentous occasion. And Eunhyuk was undeniably glad to see him, from the welcoming kisses, to pulling him into a cuddle. But even then, she didn’t stand there like his pet dog every time he got home waiting for affection. So to find her waiting at the door for him, as though his key in the lock had made her appear, he was understandably curious.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, staring behind her. And no, there was no monster chasing her to the door.
“I…Yes, I…”
She grabbed him by the ears, pulling him down for a long, solid kiss. And nearly got an armful of interested husband for it.
“Yes?” he asked when she held his head back.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted, her whole face all but incinerating.
She watched his eyes widen. “Pregnant? As in..?”
“Is there any other kind?!”
She swallowed the need to babble and went with throwing her arms around him instead.
“I went to the doctor to make sure,” she said, squeezing him hard.
He was holding her as though she was liable to squeeze out between his arms like marshmallow fluff.
“Wow,” he said finally after a few silent minutes. “Wow. Go us!”
***
Daniel’s thought process:
She’s pregnant.
Pregnant means baby. Baby means… She seems…happy?
We can still have sex while she’s pregnant? Because I haven’t gotten tired of that. My girl is hot, and…
Right. Baby.
Pregnant women are hot too, right?
Right. Wow. Wow. Go little guys! I did this. Wow.
***
Eunhyuk would never know.
Though that men were strange, that she never lost her grasp of.
6.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, stroking back her hair.
“Well, I hope you’d rather it be you than someone else,” she said a little matter-of-factly. The longer it took for him to actually do it, the longer it gave her to obsess about it.
And once it was done, it was done. Drawing it out made no sense at all.
“I love you,” he said, and kissed her. She knew on one had that he was trying to distract her, and in a way it worked, consciousness flicking back and forth between his mouth and the teasing hand at her breast. But she could no more erase the tension than she could stop breathing. She’d heard too many different things, that it was nothing, that it was excruciating, that…
Somehow he made it, two very distinct movements as he panted against her neck.
She didn’t know what she was feeling. She wanted to laugh hysterically, and there was an underlying layer of arousal that hadn’t faded. But on the other hand, parts of her were demanding to know just what exactly she was doing and why.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
And she made some noise in affirmation, because she wasn’t sure what she’d have told him in words.
Married in every sense of the word.
“My wife,” he said, sounding a little awed. She was pretty sure she had been his wife when the ring went on her finger, and at that moment she knew which she preferred. But he was so sweet about it. “I’ll be quick,” he promised her. And he was. Quick, that is. A certain amount of gentleness.
And she held him as he groaned and trembled, trembling herself for completely different reasons. And then he wasn’t inside her any more, and it was as though her whole body sighed in relief. She’d made it. They had done it. Together, with Daniel.
She didn’t realize she was crying until he brushed the tears from her cheek, and her breath hitched. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let out a few ragged sobs against him. It wasn’t for the pain, because what there was was dull. But they had done it, they were married. He was hers, and she was his, and they were beginning their life together. And it was ugly and beautiful and strange, and a thousand other things that he would never understand.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she squeaked out, petting his head because she knew he’d misunderstand. “I’m just…overwhelmed…”
He held her and murmured her name, and she remembered falling into him at the club, looking down at his shocked face. Nearly sweating through her blouse on their first date, and standing like a statue for their first kiss. And maybe she shed a tear for that too, how far they had come.
He kissed her gently. “How does a warm shower sound? Or a bath?”
“A bath,” she sighed, stroking his shoulder. Of course, he really looked concerned, as though she were about to start screaming, or faint, and she realized that, as a woman, she had to be the strong one and reassure him. She kissed him again, and a little of the tension in his shoulders fled.
He helped her to her feet, and that was an experiment itself. And after all, she had an entire night to rest before they went out to see the sights.
***
She rested against him in the huge jacuzzi tub, stroking his chest as he rubbed her back. Every so often, he kissed her, as though to assure himself that she was there and all right and not angry.
“I think twisting my ankle hurt worse,” she mused. “Some of it wasn’t very pleasant. It’ll get better.”
“I hope so. I don’t like the thought of hurting you. I feel like I should be protecting you.”
She peered up at him mischievously. “Then you’ll just have to make it twice as good the rest our lives.”
“I’ll try. I love you, Eunhyuk.”
“I love you, too.”
He held her until the water began to cool and their skin started shriveling. He helped her to dry, when she would’ve shied away. Just admiring her.
“You’re beautiful.”
Not the first time he had told her, but he still had to kiss her red cheeks and cuddle her. With her head on his bare shoulder, everything seemed all right.
“Oh, Daniel.”
He held her close under the covers, and they spoke of the day to come before falling asleep.
Paris was everything she’d imagined. And so had her time with Daniel been. She’d been sad to go, but excited to go back. To begin their lives together.
5.
She got stuck in the middle seat.
Of course.
The elderly lady to her right snoozed through most of the flight, to her great relief. And Daniel, in the isle seat, was perfectly unflappable even with her movement.
It seemed like she had just barely, finally, at long last fallen into sleep, when he jolted her out of it.
“We’re landing soon,” he murmured, petting her hand.
“Wuh?” she gurgled intelligently back at him.
He chuckled, and kissed her a bit wetly on the bridge of her nose. “If you wanted to get into the bathroom before the seatbelt sign..?”
“Oh.”
And wasn’t he pretty? she thought. Even after being stuck on a plane for half a day, he looked like he’d just popped into his seat freshly showered and dressed.
She, on the other hand, standing in the cramped airplane bathroom… She squinted blearily at herself in the brightly lit mirror. She definitely did not look fresh, in any way possible. She pumped a little water into her hands, smoothing down her rioting cowlick. There wasn’t much she could do for her tired eyes, but she slapped her cheeks in hope she would wake up. She wanted to be fully aware as they walked out together. Got their bags, found a taxi. Getting to their hotel was just the first adventure.
And then… Paris. With Daniel. Their honeymoon.
And holy crap, she was a wife. Who allowed that to happen? They had more or less fled from their wedding reception to the airport, forgoing the usual wedding night in favor of escaping to another country as fast as was possible. So their “wedding night” had mostly consisted of her snoozing in various uncomfortable positions beside him, trying his shoulder, the tray table, and trying to recline back… Anything that meant she and her fuzzy pillow got some shut-eye.
And because Daniel was a man, he had reclined his seat after their meal, and dropped off seemingly without regard to where they were or what position he was in.
She scowled, because he had dozed off again in the five minutes she’d been gone. She wondered if he could lend her some of that. Just a little bit. Still, she had to smile, because even when she smacked his knee to make him let her pass, he had taken her hand as soon as she was buckled.
And he had that kind of smug curl to the corner of his lips that he got sometimes, like “this is my girl.” Which did all sorts of crazy things to her insides. Which was probably why she had married him to begin with. (Speaking of girl… Woman? Did she qualify yet, now that she was a wife? When did “girl” stop applying? 30? 50? When she stopped feeling 16 inside?)
Did one have a wedding night while jet lagged? She was in no way capable of dealing with any concept of sex while she felt like this. Perhaps they could nap first. Or wait another night until she felt human. Of course, postponing it didn’t really seem fair to Daniel… He had been exceptionally patient, outwardly at least, with her fumbling need to hold off until they were actually married. He’d stayed over more than once, sleeping the first few times on the couch, before she had been comfortable enough to let him actually stay in her bed.
That had been a revelation, waking up to an elbow in her back at one point, and a rumpled man draping himself over her.
And it wasn’t like they hadn’t fooled around. Feeling him lean into her, mouth eager against hers, his warm hand sliding up her ribs. There were times when she thought she would allow him anything. And times it seemed as though he would press her on it. But they had bumped around it this long…
Until now she had his wedding band on her finger, and she was as much officially his as he was hers. They would be in Paris. City of lovers.
She didn’t know how much more permission they needed than that.
***
They managed to make it to their hotel without too many mishaps. Handing the address to the driver, and staring at the meter as though the foreign currency rate would bite them. He kept his arm around her as they drove, agreeing with her every exclamation.
When they were checked in, the hotel room seemed like a gaping maw of a thing. The bed was their bed, and their luggage, and their mini bar. Their bathroom. She explored every corner, the chairs, and nooks of the bathroom. Insisting on a picture before he could mess up the bedcovers.
“What, me on the bed doesn’t make the room more attractive?” he asked, smirking at her.
She just kicked him aside and got her picture anyway. After a kiss.
As soon as the bathroom door closed behind him, she threw open her suitcase. The top layer were clothes that needed to be hung up. And, in fact, not knowing how many hangers she would find, she brought them still with their hangers. But what was most important in the middle of that, was the precious little garment that she had wheezed about not needing. Sungmin and Ryeowook had railroaded her into a lingerie shop, oohing and ahhing over every scrap of silk and lace. They held up negligees smaller than swimming suits to her blushing-while-still-clad body, and in general made a little too much noise, and took far too much time.
There had been no compromise, since she had given a solid no to the sexy outfits that would barely cover a twig. Or the cutesy little babydoll gowns. She had no doubt Daniel would get a reaction to seeing her in something like it, but she wanted to err away from him potentially breaking a rib.
There was some happy medium, between “I’m a sexy woman” and “I’m a cute little girl” and “This gown covers so much and is so frumpy, even I can’t tell if I’m under here.”
It had gone well past her hips, a blessedly not-sheer satiny material. And as she had gaped at herself in the mirror as Ryeowook fretted outside, the drape of the material even almost made her look like she had breasts.
Well. More of them anyway. She had patted nervously at her hips as Ryeowook made threats about tearing down the door if she didn’t hurry up. And as soon as the shrewd eyes swept from her head to toes, Ryeowook declared that was the one, and yanked the door back closed.
It had the stamp of approval.
And so it was hung up between slacks and unsuspecting shirts, because she didn’t want it wrinkled. And she really didn’t want him seeing it before it got onto her body. Whenever it got onto her body. They had treated her to a day at the spa willing or not, so she was all sanded and buffed and prepared for the moment. Though she really did require a shower.
And despite being…covering, it still had that appeal, that Sungmin had so helpfully described as “Come and get me, tiger,” which had in turn made her laugh too loud and embarrassedly right in the middle of the store.
When she looked back, he had come out, standing and watching her fuss with her belongings. As a wife, maybe she should know what he wanted to do with his things, if he had things he needed to hang up, or…
But there was time for that. They had barely had 24 hours, and she intended to have years to find out those quirks about him.
When he pulled her close, she went willingly, sighing into his shoulder. He rubbed her back, kissing her neck quite tenderly, hitting all of her most sensitive places. And she liked that. A lot.
“M-maybe we should get something to eat,” she stuttered out.
“You’re hungry?” he asked, considering her.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He turned to retrieve his wallet and jacket. “Then let’s go down and get something to eat.”
“Really?”
“I didn’t bring my wife here just to watch her starve,” he teased.
Korean food at the hotel restaurant, she thought a little dreamily as he ushered her out the door. In France. In Paris.
4.
She wore the little camisole she had had on earlier, pajama shorts made of a silken fabric. Short shorts, she admitted, bracing herself on the sink. As much skin as he had seen earlier. A little more than he’d seen before that. She imagined his face when he saw her, knowing he would be holding her like that. It wasn’t a teasing outfit. She wasn’t trying to make him tear off her clothes. But she didn’t think that anyone would begrudge her that she wanted him to want her. He’d probably be in his plain t-shirt to sleep in, the pajama pants she ended up washing more often than not. And they would lay together in her bed an engaged couple, for the first time.
He’d seen her when she had no makeup on, and when her face was broken out. He’d been around her when she was tired, and crabby, and crampy, when she was deciding that a knee to the gut might actually be an improvement over whatever torture her uterus was implementing. They’d spent night after night sleeping beside each other, and he’d held her, and kissed her, and tickled the backs of her knees. She knew what he smelled like after a workout, and that he got stressed at work, and that he seemed to enjoy her cooking. And he’d put a ring on her finger, and her mother had cried. Was she too young to be a wife? She thought of her mother, and how old she had been, and wondered if her mother had been more prepared somehow to join her life with someone else’s.
When she went out, his eyes weren’t on her chest, or legs right away, but on her hand. She waggled it, and the ring at him, and he grinned, and then gave her a once-over before hurrying into the bathroom.. She squeezed into the bed, shaking with anticipation and a little fear. She knew exactly how far they would go, and her resolve there was strong. She didn’t question that. But she wanted him to be happy and satisfied with it, too. She knew, from stories, that if a girl started sleeping with a man, there was some promise between them. If she got pregnant, he’d marry her. He’d be there for her and the baby. And maybe she had some fairy tale ideal of marriage, but she wanted to get married knowing she had something to anticipate, and in their marriage bed, know him fully.
He reached for her immediately when he got in bed, pulling her back into him and kissing her cheek.
“Tired?” he asked her, rubbing the tip of his nose against her skin.
She laughed, swatting at his arm. “I don’t know how I could be. I think I’m dreaming.”
“I know I am,” he said. “Love you.”
She turned, fully, catching his mouth, purring as he ran his hand over the slick material of her shorts, sweeping from thigh to waist and down again. Nudging closer against her, and she tasted her own toothpaste in his mouth.
She gasped as he pushed himself up onto his elbow, not content to be beside her. Holding her still, until he knelt between her legs. He’d done that before, kissed her while being above her. It had not scared her then, and it didn’t scare her now, welcoming him with some embarrassment as he admired her. If he just got back to kissing her, she’d be fine.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, and her whole body felt it. If he touched her, then, she would be tempted. So tempted, to give into anything he asked for. She pulled him back, admiring his face, the wet lips.
“Daniel, until the wedding, I’d rather not… Could we wait until the wedding to have sex?” she choked out.
He seemed perplexed by the question, his hand poised on her hip. “Yes? If that’s what you want.”
“You’re okay with that?”
“I guess it depends on when the wedding is,” he teased. “We’ll have the rest of our lives.”
“Well. When you put it that way,” she said faintly.
“Did you want to stop this?”
Stop the amazing feelings he was creating in her?
“No!”
He kissed her. “Okay.”
If anything, he got closer, guiding her knee up to his side, and she clutched at him. She nearly arched off the bed as he teased her breasts. Her legs closed around him, needing friction, needing something that he was denying her, his hips too far away. He muffled his moan on her skin as she circled her hips. Never had he been so bold, grinding against her. Their hips working together. There was no way he knew what felt best to her, so she worked with him, shaking, all but light headed as they moved. Knowing what she was rubbing against, knowing by his moans that it felt good.
She heard the desperate little noises she was making but didn’t care. She wanted him to know, wanted him to keep going, keep moving, anything as long as it kept feeling good, his hands on her, his hips.
“Daniel…”
“I want… Want to touch you,” he said, holding down her hips and her whimpers, dropping down beside her. He caught her thigh between his, keeping her legs spread. Restless, as his hand slid over the slick material, cupping between her thighs, slow as though he didn’t know if she would allow it. But she was having to fist her hands in the pillow to keep from reaching down and pressing his hand down into her. She panted, needy, and had no words.
“Have you felt like this before?”
“Yes,” she sobbed out, desperate for him to move.
His breathing was quick and shallow against her. “You made yourself feel like this?”
Silence spun out as he teased, carefully rubbing circles with his thumb. Was that something she could admit? Yes, she’d touched herself, yes, she knew the feeling she was craving. She gasped as he rubbed her quicker, her body vibrating, arching into his hand.
“Yes. Yes! No one else except you, has-Oh! Daniel!”
He swiveled his fingers, just a little, teasing her. And finally, finally, he found a rhythm that made her blood start heating again.
“I can see you doing that, so pretty, Eunhyuk.” He kissed her cheek, breath hot against her skin. “Did you think of me?”
She kissed him to shut him up, because some things were sacred. And it was something he certainly understood. Of course she had thought of him, of the way he touched her of the way she wanted him to touch her. And in the future, of the way he was touching her now. She had to break the kiss, to breathe, her hand on his shirt trying to urge him. She couldn’t even moan his name.
His teeth scraped her nipple through the fabric, and he might as well have catapulted her, the sear of pleasure unbearable as she trembled at the top of it, jerking against his hand as she fell, gasping through the trembles, the little echoing jets of ecstasy. Her neck relaxed from where her head had slammed back, panting as he brought her down. She felt too good to consider being ashamed. His fingers explored, curiously. Not trying to do what he should not, to press too hard, but she imagined that he could feel the heat, the wet, he had caused. And wondered if that pleased him, or if it was a tease of something they’d already agreed he would have to wait for.
She was still so high, she thought if he gave her a moment, she would press his hand back there. She wanted to fly like that again.
Still, she buried her face in his neck, rolling into him, because there were things even beyond her control. What exactly had she admitted to? It had seemed thrilling to say then, but now? He seemed to know her embarrassment, kissing her shoulder, whispering to her.
“You’re so beautiful. I love you so much. You feel so good.”
Since he had his hand on her butt, she kind of had to laugh. But as she held him, she could feel the heat of him against her stomach. And allowing herself time to enjoy herself, to get her heart under control, she reached for him. The shape of him against her hand now, this second time, was not as strange or frightening. Nor were his moans. And she still had arousal singing in her. He moaned, and kissed her, more roughly that he had intended, she thought. Hooking an ankle over hers, and kissing her as though his life depended on it, and, she smiled to think maybe it did. He gripped her shoulder as she grew almost confident enough to tease. She wondered if it would feel better, if it was her hand against his skin. She all but jittered at the thought. Not yet. Not yet.
It didn’t take as long, maybe because he was more acutely turned on, after touching her, and he choked out her name. He hadn’t had to help her that time, show her. She had done that for him on her own. Kissing him, touching him. Holding him, as the air bellowed out of him, nudging against his damp neck. They smelled of sex. And that was thrilling and scary, both.
Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, if she let him, before they married. But no, she wanted to stick to her resolve. They would have time to explore making each other feel good like this. Now that she knew what it was like, with him, she didn’t know that she wanted to stop.
“Y’okay?” he breathed, squeezing her.
“Mmhm,” she agreed. Sated, but with an adrenaline buzz.
“Just a second.” He untangled them, sitting up, turning from her. Cleaning, a little, she realized, floating in a hazy satisfaction. But he was beside her, soon enough.
He ran cool fingers down her thigh, and she shivered closer. Warm against him, surrounded by him, and his scent. They were engaged. He made her feeling amazing, in every way. They were going to be married. She touched the ring on her finger for about the thousandth time, to make sure it was still there. To make sure she hadn’t imagined it. She smiled against Daniel’s shirt, knowing he was already asleep, and let herself follow.
3.
He kissed around her belly button thinking that was as far down that way as he really dared go, yet. And if he played his cards right, as he moved back up, instead of doing the gentlemanly thing and keeping his hands on the outside, he could do what he really wanted. Moving the fingers he already had flirting beneath her pulled up hem, and sliding it up her ribs. He bet her skin was soft and warm, and he just wanted to touch. He was a guy, and she was there, and she was his. Even if she’d roll her eyes at him for saying it.
Of course his plan worked for about all of a second, as halfway up, his hand stopped abruptly, a snag in his fingernail catching her shirt, and he had to sort of dive for her mouth to occupy her while he pretended to be suave and cool and somehow get himself untangled. The suave and cool part failed since by the time he got his hand moving freely again, a smile was trembling at the corner of her lips. She was on to him, all right. And with him still halfway up her shirt, her hand slid onto his forearm, sliding up toward his shoulder as she nudged against his mouth.
Distract her so he could get his hands on her? He could do that. So long as he didn’t stab that fragile skin with his mutinous nail. He didn’t think she was into pain. But… She felt like heaven. His hand was in a very happy, slightly squishy, perfectly proportioned place. And she sort of purred at him, just a tiny moan that let him know that she liked it too. And he liked that very, very much.
2.
There wasn’t any way she would’ve attempted it if the lights had been on. There was something surreal about the dark, her back to the glowing of the clock, Daniel’s body warm against hers. Some part of her was still shocked and startled that he wanted her. Wanted to date her, kiss her. She didn’t find herself worthless, or horrific, but she was so amazed by him, so in love with him, that it seemed like it was someone else’s life. She’d fallen into some kind of drama where the girl finds the guy, and is lucky enough that the guy really likes her back.
And attraction, that was something else entirely. Most of what she knew of men was from what other people had told her, what she’d read, what she’d seen on TV or in movies. Men weren’t attracted to anything that moved, they had preferences, too. But Daniel… Though he was careful with her, and she knew that. She had been aware ever since that time they had been making out, and he’d pulled her close, and her brain froze in split second confusion and realization, as their bodies fit together a little differently than she’d come to expect. He had been less embarrassed than he had been curious of her reaction, which had in turn embarrassed her. He had chuckled and kissed her face, and that had been the first time he’d gotten his hand under her shirt, rubbing circles over the skin of her back as they cuddled through the rest of the movie.
She only confessed internally that she had almost stared holes in the front of his pajama pants that night, as though she could somehow reveal (oh, well, not reveal exactly) or investigate that newness. Women were kind of hard to read with all their clothes on, in terms of arousal. Whereas men had quite an obvious tell. Which meant, and it was no small revelation, that he wanted her. Wanted as in, wanted her. Found her pretty, or attractive, or… sexy? Was that even possible? There was a look he got when he saw her dressed up, or after a particularly interesting kiss, or when they would go to the club and she pulled him onto the dance floor. His hands on her hips, and his eyes saying, “Mine”
Of course she would be lying if she said that she did not have the same feelings. He wanted her, and she knew that beyond doubt. And there was curiosity in her, something she almost was surprised by, since it was so strong. She’d been exploring in other ways, pressing, moving against him, feeling the way they were together. Subtly, though she thought he knew. How could he not? It was his body, after all. And he let her, and to no surprise on her part. Still, it was something she secretly guarded in the giddy part of her heart. And in other ways, the flush of warmth that was only proof that his want was returned.
She was content. At least until that night, that other night. When he’d been so awkward and so obvious, fingers sneaking up her ribs as though he expected them to be slapped back, for the first time skin to skin, his hand cupping her breast. He’d touched her there before as they kissed, made out, over her shirt, bra, and that had been exciting. Something almost dangerous and thrilling, and she found herself moving to encourage that touch, guiding his hand. But it had been almost sanitized somehow. The layer or two of fabric between skin, between warmth. But not then. His hand had been so warm, exploring, the friction of his palm against her enough to make her gasp with wonder. To where even days later, standing lost in thought in the shower, she found herself feeling up her own chest in some kind of disbelief that, yes, his hand had been there. She wasn’t dreaming.
She assumed there was give and take in their relationship. He’d jokingly put her hand on his bare chest as though that was some kind of equivalent. And maybe to him it was. It wasn’t like he was imitating an octopus and trying to get his hands between her thighs. So she realized maybe, maybe, it wasn’t quite equal, but that didn’t stop her curiosity. As they lay together in the dark, him kind of rumbling in his throat as she kissed him, stroking his stomach and mind going at least faster than the speed of light. Just a little further down was his waistband. And a little further than that… He’d pressed against her ten, maybe fifteen minutes earlier, and she’d come to immediate attention. It had taken that long to consider and think and discard and reconsider and want. Just, with her hand, not even inside the fabric, just outside, she just wanted to feel him. Whether that would scare her to pieces or if she could look at him in the morning, or he turned into some wild monster, she didn’t know.
She didn’t even realize she’d frozen on that thought, breathing shallowly, her fingers on the elastic at his waist.
“You okay?” he asked, breath puffing against her lips.
She was going to hate herself for moment if she did it and hate herself a whole lot more if she didn’t, so she all but lunged for him, hooking a leg over his, and rocking his hip forward, so that almost as though by accident her hand slid over him. It was hard to tell who was more startled, him or her, but they both made noises, him of surprise, and her of muffled embarrassed horror. But still, neither of them moved. At least, most of them didn’t. The stirring against her palm almost assuredly followed his brain’s acceptance. She wanted to laugh like some idiot, and snatch her hand back and run away, but by then it was too late, his hand curving over the back of hers and just holding her there.
“Oh,” he said, kind of brilliantly.
“Oh,” she echoed.
“Well. Hmm.”
“It’s only fair,” she choked out, chills racing up her arm as his thumb rubbed at her wrist.
He laughed, a few awkward retorts. She felt it. Heard it. Wondered at it.
“Honey, it’s more than fair.”
“So… So that’s it, huh.”
“Yes,” he said cautiously. “But define ‘it.’ It being…’that’ or it meaning…’that’s all.’”
“Um. There feels like plenty to me?”
“I really love you,” he swore. “You are so gorgeous, Eunhyuk. I don’t even…”
She giggled as he spewed fervent things since his masculine pride had been saved. But she also realized that his hand was still really not letting hers go, and if anything holding it tighter.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Want a tour?”
“Daniel!”
“What?” he asked, and she could feel his grin.
“Maybe if you let my hand go,” she said, trying to bargain.
The kiss they shared was not their most attentive, mostly damp and lazy as he did what she asked, and let her go. Free to move, explore. Experience, as she had been wanting to. Sometimes he stopped breathing, lips parting on an inhale, soft moans as she let the flat of her palm stroke up, and the heel of it stroke down. Maybe she hadn’t done that before, touched a man. But she wasn’t some innocent flower who thought babies came through some mystical way. She knew what she was doing to him, and it thrilled her, more powerful than any heady wine on her senses. She should be ashamed, and scalding that hand, and trying to find the tattered remains of her good girl image. But she was making Daniel feel good, and that was making her feel good, too.
“That feels really good,” he half said, half gulp. “But that feels really, really good.”
“You repeated yourself,” she told him.
“Did I? Okay. I don’t know how much of this I can take, I don’t. Yes.”
She thought she’d been pretty careful, but she had to ask. “It’s not hurting you…?”
“No! No, no! No. No, don’t even. No! It feels amazing. Too good. So good. It’ll probably hurt if you stop, but. No, I mean. You can stop, and that’s okay. But if you keep going, then I’m going to…. Do you want to keep going?”
“Ohhh,” she whispered, understanding his convoluted speech at last.
“Yeah,” he said, swallowing loudly, her hand not stopping. “Oh.”
Men were delicate creatures, she realized for one of the many times in her life. Probably, yes. It was prudent to take back her hand, and not let him start expecting things like her touching him. But this, like this, might be all she had, not only for him, but for herself, before their wedding night. And she somewhat selfishly wanted it.
“Will you show me…how?” she asked. And was thankful again for the dark.
He might have whimpered, she wasn’t sure.
“Eunhyuk. Can I?” he touched the back of her hand, and she acquiesced, letting him guide her. “A little faster…”
A little more firmly, his hand guiding her fingers more solidly around him.
“Like that?” she asked
“Yes. Yes. Eunhyuk, oh.”
“Let me,” she insisted, and he took back his hand with reluctance. If he wanted quicker, she could do that. If he wanted firmer, she could do that, too. Listening to his moans, hearing him in a way she never had before. He was enjoying what she did to him, and she nearly lost her rhythm when he beelined beneath her shirt, groping her as he attacked her mouth. It took no genius as his hips rocked, that he wanted quicker still, his hand convulsively squeezing at her breast. He was babbling something between kisses, something she couldn’t understand. And though she tried to pay attention to everything, it still surprised her when his body went taut, an almost injured cry into her shoulder. And she would have stopped entirely if he hadn’t been urging her on.
“Yes, please, yes. More like, oh, Eunhyuk…”
She was no stranger to orgasm, the sometimes violent peak of it, the rolling downward slough of pleasure and satisfaction. She could just barely make out that his eyes were closed, lungs finally slowing their bellowing desperation.
This time when he took her hand, he threaded their fingers together, lifting them until he could kiss her knuckles.
“My Eunhyuk,” he said as though his tongue were thick.
She kind of felt like Christmas morning, the sick hopefulness of it all. “It was okay.”
“Oh. Baby. If okay got promoted. Okay’s boss’s boss.”
She laughed. “You’re so weird.”
“Love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And then he sort of fell asleep, unconcerned for what she might want or need. But as she had earlier considered, she was no innocent flower. She knew how the world worked, and that men, were, well. Men. Sometimes it just worked that way. And she was okay with that, for now. She cozied her newfound knowledge and hoped that kept her from dying all over him in the morning when she realized again what she’d done. What she’d said.
What had she said? There would be obsessing. And a lot of chocolate.
And a lot more of Daniel.
***
She was running just slightly behind, she recognized that fact. When Daniel had texted her about going to dinner that night, she’d rolled her eyes at his last minute planning, but texted back that it was okay. So in reality, it was his fault that she was late, because she’d been asked to dress “pretty nice.” Which from Daniel could mean a myriad of things. She erred toward the nicer side of pretty nice, a dress with the sort of flirty skirt that she’d found on sale for next to nothing.
Her makeup was done, so all she had to do was get into the dress, and take her hair down out of the clips she’d stuck it up in. And hope there weren’t any weird crimps or flyaways.
And of course, Daniel was right on time. He looked nice, equivalent to what she would be wearing, in a sharp jacket and his hair rather severely tamed. Still. She smiled, because he was cute. She ushered him in, intending to dart away the second the door was closed.
“Hi, sorry I’m late. Got to dress, be right back.”
“Hey, wait a… Wait a second,” he laughed, reaching out and getting a grip on her arm. “I want a real hello.”
It wasn’t like she was naked, but she was definitely in transition. The little camisole over her bra, and the tiny shorts she was intending to wriggle out of. She hadn’t intended him to see her like that.
“You look cute,” he said, rather lasciviously she thought.
“Yes, well… Daniel!”
She half laughed his name as he maneuvered her against the wall, hands at her sides and a grin tilting his face.
“Just want to say hello to my girl,” he said.
She accepted the kiss without consideration to the gloss she had put on. It was nice. Very nice, to be greeted that way, and she let him know that.
“Hi,” she told him, smiling up into his eyes as their noses bumped.
“I like your…shirt.”
She would have giggled, but his mouth cut her off, catching her lips, her jaw. Her neck, and collarbone. And as he drew her up slightly, his arm behind her back, she inhaled as his mouth met the hollow of her shoulder. Rubbing his nose across her sternum before pressing a kiss to the opposite side.
“I think I met this part of you first at the club, didn’t I?” he teased.
When she had fallen into him? Yes. She remembered that all too clearly. Her face was burning, her skin tingling, and she couldn’t keep herself from chewing at her lower lip as they considered each other. With so little, he could make her want.
“Makes me think we should stay in,” he said softly. “But another night. Go get dressed, slowpoke.”
His pat to her butt got her moving, like a colt shying away. She got her hair down, and thought idly she should get it trimmed. It had grown some, though Daniel seemed to like it. She was nearly into her dress when she noticed something odd. A sort of shimmer on her skin.
And she laughed, loudly and unrestrained, when she realized what it was. When Daniel had kissed her, he had glossed his lips from hers. And as he kissed down her neck, onto her upper chest, he had left a sticky, shiny trail of glossy marks. Luckily that was quickly fixed, and gloss applied back to her own mouth.
She grabbed her little bag, and knowing Daniel was going to be with her, was ready for whatever would come next.
1.
She’d been pretty sure what had and had not been off limits, sexually speaking, from the point at which she realized Daniel actually wanted her. And that thought was surprising, flattering, and arousing all at once. And maybe because she was a good girl, she had made little castles in her head about what her first time having sex would be like. Ideally, with her husband. Granted, that thought didn’t go with what her friends understood, given that she was being asked if they were doing it, from the moment the engagement ring was warmed on her skin, really. Like sex was his reward for her accepting him.
And it wasn’t like she was made of rock. He was good looking, without any doubts. She loved him. She fantasized about him.
And he more or less understood what it was she wanted, and why.
Or she thought he did, anyway.
8.
Eunhyuk wouldn’t have called herself jealous by any stretch of the imagination. Or at least, she had never really found a reason until she had started dating Daniel. And it wasn’t because of lack of trust, that wasn’t it at all. She’d just never cared that much. And the few times she had to actually pull out the jealousy factor, well. She didn’t like it. Even knowing she had a ring on her finger didn’t help all that much, when there was a long-fingered, well-manicured hand resting on Daniel’s arm, like some sort of proprietary tag. Like she knew her hand was all right there, and that she could say his name in that hopeful tone.
The girl looked like no doe-eyed ingenue, or a calculating harpy either. She could have started hating the latter, and wondering where to find some celery for the former, but this she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with.
Fortunately Daniel did, sliding his arm away, and around Eunhyuk. His wife.
And the woman? A sister of one of Daniel’s coworkers, also happily married as they saw evidence of just moment later. So she had her silly moments, it was true, jealousy warranted or not. But there was at least greater proof than the rings on their fingers. Daniel made sure her glass was filled with juice, and his was the only hand welcome to touch her rounding stomach as the party wore on.
“I’m ready to go when you are,” he murmured against her ear. So being pregnant had it’s uses, as they grinned at each other.
And then he waggled his eyebrows. Somehow, she thought they’d gotten into just this position because of what he was suggesting they do when they got home.
And when she thought of the way they’d met, well.
At least she hadn’t had to fall over him to do it.
***
Author: Coley Merrin
Pairing: Tablo/Girl!Eunhyuk
Rating: R
Warning: for girl!Hyuk
Sequel to Arms
***
7.
Daniel coming home from work was a momentous occasion. And Eunhyuk was undeniably glad to see him, from the welcoming kisses, to pulling him into a cuddle. But even then, she didn’t stand there like his pet dog every time he got home waiting for affection. So to find her waiting at the door for him, as though his key in the lock had made her appear, he was understandably curious.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, staring behind her. And no, there was no monster chasing her to the door.
“I…Yes, I…”
She grabbed him by the ears, pulling him down for a long, solid kiss. And nearly got an armful of interested husband for it.
“Yes?” he asked when she held his head back.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted, her whole face all but incinerating.
She watched his eyes widen. “Pregnant? As in..?”
“Is there any other kind?!”
She swallowed the need to babble and went with throwing her arms around him instead.
“I went to the doctor to make sure,” she said, squeezing him hard.
He was holding her as though she was liable to squeeze out between his arms like marshmallow fluff.
“Wow,” he said finally after a few silent minutes. “Wow. Go us!”
***
Daniel’s thought process:
She’s pregnant.
Pregnant means baby. Baby means… She seems…happy?
We can still have sex while she’s pregnant? Because I haven’t gotten tired of that. My girl is hot, and…
Right. Baby.
Pregnant women are hot too, right?
Right. Wow. Wow. Go little guys! I did this. Wow.
***
Eunhyuk would never know.
Though that men were strange, that she never lost her grasp of.
6.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, stroking back her hair.
“Well, I hope you’d rather it be you than someone else,” she said a little matter-of-factly. The longer it took for him to actually do it, the longer it gave her to obsess about it.
And once it was done, it was done. Drawing it out made no sense at all.
“I love you,” he said, and kissed her. She knew on one had that he was trying to distract her, and in a way it worked, consciousness flicking back and forth between his mouth and the teasing hand at her breast. But she could no more erase the tension than she could stop breathing. She’d heard too many different things, that it was nothing, that it was excruciating, that…
Somehow he made it, two very distinct movements as he panted against her neck.
She didn’t know what she was feeling. She wanted to laugh hysterically, and there was an underlying layer of arousal that hadn’t faded. But on the other hand, parts of her were demanding to know just what exactly she was doing and why.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
And she made some noise in affirmation, because she wasn’t sure what she’d have told him in words.
Married in every sense of the word.
“My wife,” he said, sounding a little awed. She was pretty sure she had been his wife when the ring went on her finger, and at that moment she knew which she preferred. But he was so sweet about it. “I’ll be quick,” he promised her. And he was. Quick, that is. A certain amount of gentleness.
And she held him as he groaned and trembled, trembling herself for completely different reasons. And then he wasn’t inside her any more, and it was as though her whole body sighed in relief. She’d made it. They had done it. Together, with Daniel.
She didn’t realize she was crying until he brushed the tears from her cheek, and her breath hitched. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let out a few ragged sobs against him. It wasn’t for the pain, because what there was was dull. But they had done it, they were married. He was hers, and she was his, and they were beginning their life together. And it was ugly and beautiful and strange, and a thousand other things that he would never understand.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she squeaked out, petting his head because she knew he’d misunderstand. “I’m just…overwhelmed…”
He held her and murmured her name, and she remembered falling into him at the club, looking down at his shocked face. Nearly sweating through her blouse on their first date, and standing like a statue for their first kiss. And maybe she shed a tear for that too, how far they had come.
He kissed her gently. “How does a warm shower sound? Or a bath?”
“A bath,” she sighed, stroking his shoulder. Of course, he really looked concerned, as though she were about to start screaming, or faint, and she realized that, as a woman, she had to be the strong one and reassure him. She kissed him again, and a little of the tension in his shoulders fled.
He helped her to her feet, and that was an experiment itself. And after all, she had an entire night to rest before they went out to see the sights.
***
She rested against him in the huge jacuzzi tub, stroking his chest as he rubbed her back. Every so often, he kissed her, as though to assure himself that she was there and all right and not angry.
“I think twisting my ankle hurt worse,” she mused. “Some of it wasn’t very pleasant. It’ll get better.”
“I hope so. I don’t like the thought of hurting you. I feel like I should be protecting you.”
She peered up at him mischievously. “Then you’ll just have to make it twice as good the rest our lives.”
“I’ll try. I love you, Eunhyuk.”
“I love you, too.”
He held her until the water began to cool and their skin started shriveling. He helped her to dry, when she would’ve shied away. Just admiring her.
“You’re beautiful.”
Not the first time he had told her, but he still had to kiss her red cheeks and cuddle her. With her head on his bare shoulder, everything seemed all right.
“Oh, Daniel.”
He held her close under the covers, and they spoke of the day to come before falling asleep.
Paris was everything she’d imagined. And so had her time with Daniel been. She’d been sad to go, but excited to go back. To begin their lives together.
5.
She got stuck in the middle seat.
Of course.
The elderly lady to her right snoozed through most of the flight, to her great relief. And Daniel, in the isle seat, was perfectly unflappable even with her movement.
It seemed like she had just barely, finally, at long last fallen into sleep, when he jolted her out of it.
“We’re landing soon,” he murmured, petting her hand.
“Wuh?” she gurgled intelligently back at him.
He chuckled, and kissed her a bit wetly on the bridge of her nose. “If you wanted to get into the bathroom before the seatbelt sign..?”
“Oh.”
And wasn’t he pretty? she thought. Even after being stuck on a plane for half a day, he looked like he’d just popped into his seat freshly showered and dressed.
She, on the other hand, standing in the cramped airplane bathroom… She squinted blearily at herself in the brightly lit mirror. She definitely did not look fresh, in any way possible. She pumped a little water into her hands, smoothing down her rioting cowlick. There wasn’t much she could do for her tired eyes, but she slapped her cheeks in hope she would wake up. She wanted to be fully aware as they walked out together. Got their bags, found a taxi. Getting to their hotel was just the first adventure.
And then… Paris. With Daniel. Their honeymoon.
And holy crap, she was a wife. Who allowed that to happen? They had more or less fled from their wedding reception to the airport, forgoing the usual wedding night in favor of escaping to another country as fast as was possible. So their “wedding night” had mostly consisted of her snoozing in various uncomfortable positions beside him, trying his shoulder, the tray table, and trying to recline back… Anything that meant she and her fuzzy pillow got some shut-eye.
And because Daniel was a man, he had reclined his seat after their meal, and dropped off seemingly without regard to where they were or what position he was in.
She scowled, because he had dozed off again in the five minutes she’d been gone. She wondered if he could lend her some of that. Just a little bit. Still, she had to smile, because even when she smacked his knee to make him let her pass, he had taken her hand as soon as she was buckled.
And he had that kind of smug curl to the corner of his lips that he got sometimes, like “this is my girl.” Which did all sorts of crazy things to her insides. Which was probably why she had married him to begin with. (Speaking of girl… Woman? Did she qualify yet, now that she was a wife? When did “girl” stop applying? 30? 50? When she stopped feeling 16 inside?)
Did one have a wedding night while jet lagged? She was in no way capable of dealing with any concept of sex while she felt like this. Perhaps they could nap first. Or wait another night until she felt human. Of course, postponing it didn’t really seem fair to Daniel… He had been exceptionally patient, outwardly at least, with her fumbling need to hold off until they were actually married. He’d stayed over more than once, sleeping the first few times on the couch, before she had been comfortable enough to let him actually stay in her bed.
That had been a revelation, waking up to an elbow in her back at one point, and a rumpled man draping himself over her.
And it wasn’t like they hadn’t fooled around. Feeling him lean into her, mouth eager against hers, his warm hand sliding up her ribs. There were times when she thought she would allow him anything. And times it seemed as though he would press her on it. But they had bumped around it this long…
Until now she had his wedding band on her finger, and she was as much officially his as he was hers. They would be in Paris. City of lovers.
She didn’t know how much more permission they needed than that.
***
They managed to make it to their hotel without too many mishaps. Handing the address to the driver, and staring at the meter as though the foreign currency rate would bite them. He kept his arm around her as they drove, agreeing with her every exclamation.
When they were checked in, the hotel room seemed like a gaping maw of a thing. The bed was their bed, and their luggage, and their mini bar. Their bathroom. She explored every corner, the chairs, and nooks of the bathroom. Insisting on a picture before he could mess up the bedcovers.
“What, me on the bed doesn’t make the room more attractive?” he asked, smirking at her.
She just kicked him aside and got her picture anyway. After a kiss.
As soon as the bathroom door closed behind him, she threw open her suitcase. The top layer were clothes that needed to be hung up. And, in fact, not knowing how many hangers she would find, she brought them still with their hangers. But what was most important in the middle of that, was the precious little garment that she had wheezed about not needing. Sungmin and Ryeowook had railroaded her into a lingerie shop, oohing and ahhing over every scrap of silk and lace. They held up negligees smaller than swimming suits to her blushing-while-still-clad body, and in general made a little too much noise, and took far too much time.
There had been no compromise, since she had given a solid no to the sexy outfits that would barely cover a twig. Or the cutesy little babydoll gowns. She had no doubt Daniel would get a reaction to seeing her in something like it, but she wanted to err away from him potentially breaking a rib.
There was some happy medium, between “I’m a sexy woman” and “I’m a cute little girl” and “This gown covers so much and is so frumpy, even I can’t tell if I’m under here.”
It had gone well past her hips, a blessedly not-sheer satiny material. And as she had gaped at herself in the mirror as Ryeowook fretted outside, the drape of the material even almost made her look like she had breasts.
Well. More of them anyway. She had patted nervously at her hips as Ryeowook made threats about tearing down the door if she didn’t hurry up. And as soon as the shrewd eyes swept from her head to toes, Ryeowook declared that was the one, and yanked the door back closed.
It had the stamp of approval.
And so it was hung up between slacks and unsuspecting shirts, because she didn’t want it wrinkled. And she really didn’t want him seeing it before it got onto her body. Whenever it got onto her body. They had treated her to a day at the spa willing or not, so she was all sanded and buffed and prepared for the moment. Though she really did require a shower.
And despite being…covering, it still had that appeal, that Sungmin had so helpfully described as “Come and get me, tiger,” which had in turn made her laugh too loud and embarrassedly right in the middle of the store.
When she looked back, he had come out, standing and watching her fuss with her belongings. As a wife, maybe she should know what he wanted to do with his things, if he had things he needed to hang up, or…
But there was time for that. They had barely had 24 hours, and she intended to have years to find out those quirks about him.
When he pulled her close, she went willingly, sighing into his shoulder. He rubbed her back, kissing her neck quite tenderly, hitting all of her most sensitive places. And she liked that. A lot.
“M-maybe we should get something to eat,” she stuttered out.
“You’re hungry?” he asked, considering her.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He turned to retrieve his wallet and jacket. “Then let’s go down and get something to eat.”
“Really?”
“I didn’t bring my wife here just to watch her starve,” he teased.
Korean food at the hotel restaurant, she thought a little dreamily as he ushered her out the door. In France. In Paris.
4.
She wore the little camisole she had had on earlier, pajama shorts made of a silken fabric. Short shorts, she admitted, bracing herself on the sink. As much skin as he had seen earlier. A little more than he’d seen before that. She imagined his face when he saw her, knowing he would be holding her like that. It wasn’t a teasing outfit. She wasn’t trying to make him tear off her clothes. But she didn’t think that anyone would begrudge her that she wanted him to want her. He’d probably be in his plain t-shirt to sleep in, the pajama pants she ended up washing more often than not. And they would lay together in her bed an engaged couple, for the first time.
He’d seen her when she had no makeup on, and when her face was broken out. He’d been around her when she was tired, and crabby, and crampy, when she was deciding that a knee to the gut might actually be an improvement over whatever torture her uterus was implementing. They’d spent night after night sleeping beside each other, and he’d held her, and kissed her, and tickled the backs of her knees. She knew what he smelled like after a workout, and that he got stressed at work, and that he seemed to enjoy her cooking. And he’d put a ring on her finger, and her mother had cried. Was she too young to be a wife? She thought of her mother, and how old she had been, and wondered if her mother had been more prepared somehow to join her life with someone else’s.
When she went out, his eyes weren’t on her chest, or legs right away, but on her hand. She waggled it, and the ring at him, and he grinned, and then gave her a once-over before hurrying into the bathroom.. She squeezed into the bed, shaking with anticipation and a little fear. She knew exactly how far they would go, and her resolve there was strong. She didn’t question that. But she wanted him to be happy and satisfied with it, too. She knew, from stories, that if a girl started sleeping with a man, there was some promise between them. If she got pregnant, he’d marry her. He’d be there for her and the baby. And maybe she had some fairy tale ideal of marriage, but she wanted to get married knowing she had something to anticipate, and in their marriage bed, know him fully.
He reached for her immediately when he got in bed, pulling her back into him and kissing her cheek.
“Tired?” he asked her, rubbing the tip of his nose against her skin.
She laughed, swatting at his arm. “I don’t know how I could be. I think I’m dreaming.”
“I know I am,” he said. “Love you.”
She turned, fully, catching his mouth, purring as he ran his hand over the slick material of her shorts, sweeping from thigh to waist and down again. Nudging closer against her, and she tasted her own toothpaste in his mouth.
She gasped as he pushed himself up onto his elbow, not content to be beside her. Holding her still, until he knelt between her legs. He’d done that before, kissed her while being above her. It had not scared her then, and it didn’t scare her now, welcoming him with some embarrassment as he admired her. If he just got back to kissing her, she’d be fine.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, and her whole body felt it. If he touched her, then, she would be tempted. So tempted, to give into anything he asked for. She pulled him back, admiring his face, the wet lips.
“Daniel, until the wedding, I’d rather not… Could we wait until the wedding to have sex?” she choked out.
He seemed perplexed by the question, his hand poised on her hip. “Yes? If that’s what you want.”
“You’re okay with that?”
“I guess it depends on when the wedding is,” he teased. “We’ll have the rest of our lives.”
“Well. When you put it that way,” she said faintly.
“Did you want to stop this?”
Stop the amazing feelings he was creating in her?
“No!”
He kissed her. “Okay.”
If anything, he got closer, guiding her knee up to his side, and she clutched at him. She nearly arched off the bed as he teased her breasts. Her legs closed around him, needing friction, needing something that he was denying her, his hips too far away. He muffled his moan on her skin as she circled her hips. Never had he been so bold, grinding against her. Their hips working together. There was no way he knew what felt best to her, so she worked with him, shaking, all but light headed as they moved. Knowing what she was rubbing against, knowing by his moans that it felt good.
She heard the desperate little noises she was making but didn’t care. She wanted him to know, wanted him to keep going, keep moving, anything as long as it kept feeling good, his hands on her, his hips.
“Daniel…”
“I want… Want to touch you,” he said, holding down her hips and her whimpers, dropping down beside her. He caught her thigh between his, keeping her legs spread. Restless, as his hand slid over the slick material, cupping between her thighs, slow as though he didn’t know if she would allow it. But she was having to fist her hands in the pillow to keep from reaching down and pressing his hand down into her. She panted, needy, and had no words.
“Have you felt like this before?”
“Yes,” she sobbed out, desperate for him to move.
His breathing was quick and shallow against her. “You made yourself feel like this?”
Silence spun out as he teased, carefully rubbing circles with his thumb. Was that something she could admit? Yes, she’d touched herself, yes, she knew the feeling she was craving. She gasped as he rubbed her quicker, her body vibrating, arching into his hand.
“Yes. Yes! No one else except you, has-Oh! Daniel!”
He swiveled his fingers, just a little, teasing her. And finally, finally, he found a rhythm that made her blood start heating again.
“I can see you doing that, so pretty, Eunhyuk.” He kissed her cheek, breath hot against her skin. “Did you think of me?”
She kissed him to shut him up, because some things were sacred. And it was something he certainly understood. Of course she had thought of him, of the way he touched her of the way she wanted him to touch her. And in the future, of the way he was touching her now. She had to break the kiss, to breathe, her hand on his shirt trying to urge him. She couldn’t even moan his name.
His teeth scraped her nipple through the fabric, and he might as well have catapulted her, the sear of pleasure unbearable as she trembled at the top of it, jerking against his hand as she fell, gasping through the trembles, the little echoing jets of ecstasy. Her neck relaxed from where her head had slammed back, panting as he brought her down. She felt too good to consider being ashamed. His fingers explored, curiously. Not trying to do what he should not, to press too hard, but she imagined that he could feel the heat, the wet, he had caused. And wondered if that pleased him, or if it was a tease of something they’d already agreed he would have to wait for.
She was still so high, she thought if he gave her a moment, she would press his hand back there. She wanted to fly like that again.
Still, she buried her face in his neck, rolling into him, because there were things even beyond her control. What exactly had she admitted to? It had seemed thrilling to say then, but now? He seemed to know her embarrassment, kissing her shoulder, whispering to her.
“You’re so beautiful. I love you so much. You feel so good.”
Since he had his hand on her butt, she kind of had to laugh. But as she held him, she could feel the heat of him against her stomach. And allowing herself time to enjoy herself, to get her heart under control, she reached for him. The shape of him against her hand now, this second time, was not as strange or frightening. Nor were his moans. And she still had arousal singing in her. He moaned, and kissed her, more roughly that he had intended, she thought. Hooking an ankle over hers, and kissing her as though his life depended on it, and, she smiled to think maybe it did. He gripped her shoulder as she grew almost confident enough to tease. She wondered if it would feel better, if it was her hand against his skin. She all but jittered at the thought. Not yet. Not yet.
It didn’t take as long, maybe because he was more acutely turned on, after touching her, and he choked out her name. He hadn’t had to help her that time, show her. She had done that for him on her own. Kissing him, touching him. Holding him, as the air bellowed out of him, nudging against his damp neck. They smelled of sex. And that was thrilling and scary, both.
Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, if she let him, before they married. But no, she wanted to stick to her resolve. They would have time to explore making each other feel good like this. Now that she knew what it was like, with him, she didn’t know that she wanted to stop.
“Y’okay?” he breathed, squeezing her.
“Mmhm,” she agreed. Sated, but with an adrenaline buzz.
“Just a second.” He untangled them, sitting up, turning from her. Cleaning, a little, she realized, floating in a hazy satisfaction. But he was beside her, soon enough.
He ran cool fingers down her thigh, and she shivered closer. Warm against him, surrounded by him, and his scent. They were engaged. He made her feeling amazing, in every way. They were going to be married. She touched the ring on her finger for about the thousandth time, to make sure it was still there. To make sure she hadn’t imagined it. She smiled against Daniel’s shirt, knowing he was already asleep, and let herself follow.
3.
He kissed around her belly button thinking that was as far down that way as he really dared go, yet. And if he played his cards right, as he moved back up, instead of doing the gentlemanly thing and keeping his hands on the outside, he could do what he really wanted. Moving the fingers he already had flirting beneath her pulled up hem, and sliding it up her ribs. He bet her skin was soft and warm, and he just wanted to touch. He was a guy, and she was there, and she was his. Even if she’d roll her eyes at him for saying it.
Of course his plan worked for about all of a second, as halfway up, his hand stopped abruptly, a snag in his fingernail catching her shirt, and he had to sort of dive for her mouth to occupy her while he pretended to be suave and cool and somehow get himself untangled. The suave and cool part failed since by the time he got his hand moving freely again, a smile was trembling at the corner of her lips. She was on to him, all right. And with him still halfway up her shirt, her hand slid onto his forearm, sliding up toward his shoulder as she nudged against his mouth.
Distract her so he could get his hands on her? He could do that. So long as he didn’t stab that fragile skin with his mutinous nail. He didn’t think she was into pain. But… She felt like heaven. His hand was in a very happy, slightly squishy, perfectly proportioned place. And she sort of purred at him, just a tiny moan that let him know that she liked it too. And he liked that very, very much.
2.
There wasn’t any way she would’ve attempted it if the lights had been on. There was something surreal about the dark, her back to the glowing of the clock, Daniel’s body warm against hers. Some part of her was still shocked and startled that he wanted her. Wanted to date her, kiss her. She didn’t find herself worthless, or horrific, but she was so amazed by him, so in love with him, that it seemed like it was someone else’s life. She’d fallen into some kind of drama where the girl finds the guy, and is lucky enough that the guy really likes her back.
And attraction, that was something else entirely. Most of what she knew of men was from what other people had told her, what she’d read, what she’d seen on TV or in movies. Men weren’t attracted to anything that moved, they had preferences, too. But Daniel… Though he was careful with her, and she knew that. She had been aware ever since that time they had been making out, and he’d pulled her close, and her brain froze in split second confusion and realization, as their bodies fit together a little differently than she’d come to expect. He had been less embarrassed than he had been curious of her reaction, which had in turn embarrassed her. He had chuckled and kissed her face, and that had been the first time he’d gotten his hand under her shirt, rubbing circles over the skin of her back as they cuddled through the rest of the movie.
She only confessed internally that she had almost stared holes in the front of his pajama pants that night, as though she could somehow reveal (oh, well, not reveal exactly) or investigate that newness. Women were kind of hard to read with all their clothes on, in terms of arousal. Whereas men had quite an obvious tell. Which meant, and it was no small revelation, that he wanted her. Wanted as in, wanted her. Found her pretty, or attractive, or… sexy? Was that even possible? There was a look he got when he saw her dressed up, or after a particularly interesting kiss, or when they would go to the club and she pulled him onto the dance floor. His hands on her hips, and his eyes saying, “Mine”
Of course she would be lying if she said that she did not have the same feelings. He wanted her, and she knew that beyond doubt. And there was curiosity in her, something she almost was surprised by, since it was so strong. She’d been exploring in other ways, pressing, moving against him, feeling the way they were together. Subtly, though she thought he knew. How could he not? It was his body, after all. And he let her, and to no surprise on her part. Still, it was something she secretly guarded in the giddy part of her heart. And in other ways, the flush of warmth that was only proof that his want was returned.
She was content. At least until that night, that other night. When he’d been so awkward and so obvious, fingers sneaking up her ribs as though he expected them to be slapped back, for the first time skin to skin, his hand cupping her breast. He’d touched her there before as they kissed, made out, over her shirt, bra, and that had been exciting. Something almost dangerous and thrilling, and she found herself moving to encourage that touch, guiding his hand. But it had been almost sanitized somehow. The layer or two of fabric between skin, between warmth. But not then. His hand had been so warm, exploring, the friction of his palm against her enough to make her gasp with wonder. To where even days later, standing lost in thought in the shower, she found herself feeling up her own chest in some kind of disbelief that, yes, his hand had been there. She wasn’t dreaming.
She assumed there was give and take in their relationship. He’d jokingly put her hand on his bare chest as though that was some kind of equivalent. And maybe to him it was. It wasn’t like he was imitating an octopus and trying to get his hands between her thighs. So she realized maybe, maybe, it wasn’t quite equal, but that didn’t stop her curiosity. As they lay together in the dark, him kind of rumbling in his throat as she kissed him, stroking his stomach and mind going at least faster than the speed of light. Just a little further down was his waistband. And a little further than that… He’d pressed against her ten, maybe fifteen minutes earlier, and she’d come to immediate attention. It had taken that long to consider and think and discard and reconsider and want. Just, with her hand, not even inside the fabric, just outside, she just wanted to feel him. Whether that would scare her to pieces or if she could look at him in the morning, or he turned into some wild monster, she didn’t know.
She didn’t even realize she’d frozen on that thought, breathing shallowly, her fingers on the elastic at his waist.
“You okay?” he asked, breath puffing against her lips.
She was going to hate herself for moment if she did it and hate herself a whole lot more if she didn’t, so she all but lunged for him, hooking a leg over his, and rocking his hip forward, so that almost as though by accident her hand slid over him. It was hard to tell who was more startled, him or her, but they both made noises, him of surprise, and her of muffled embarrassed horror. But still, neither of them moved. At least, most of them didn’t. The stirring against her palm almost assuredly followed his brain’s acceptance. She wanted to laugh like some idiot, and snatch her hand back and run away, but by then it was too late, his hand curving over the back of hers and just holding her there.
“Oh,” he said, kind of brilliantly.
“Oh,” she echoed.
“Well. Hmm.”
“It’s only fair,” she choked out, chills racing up her arm as his thumb rubbed at her wrist.
He laughed, a few awkward retorts. She felt it. Heard it. Wondered at it.
“Honey, it’s more than fair.”
“So… So that’s it, huh.”
“Yes,” he said cautiously. “But define ‘it.’ It being…’that’ or it meaning…’that’s all.’”
“Um. There feels like plenty to me?”
“I really love you,” he swore. “You are so gorgeous, Eunhyuk. I don’t even…”
She giggled as he spewed fervent things since his masculine pride had been saved. But she also realized that his hand was still really not letting hers go, and if anything holding it tighter.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Want a tour?”
“Daniel!”
“What?” he asked, and she could feel his grin.
“Maybe if you let my hand go,” she said, trying to bargain.
The kiss they shared was not their most attentive, mostly damp and lazy as he did what she asked, and let her go. Free to move, explore. Experience, as she had been wanting to. Sometimes he stopped breathing, lips parting on an inhale, soft moans as she let the flat of her palm stroke up, and the heel of it stroke down. Maybe she hadn’t done that before, touched a man. But she wasn’t some innocent flower who thought babies came through some mystical way. She knew what she was doing to him, and it thrilled her, more powerful than any heady wine on her senses. She should be ashamed, and scalding that hand, and trying to find the tattered remains of her good girl image. But she was making Daniel feel good, and that was making her feel good, too.
“That feels really good,” he half said, half gulp. “But that feels really, really good.”
“You repeated yourself,” she told him.
“Did I? Okay. I don’t know how much of this I can take, I don’t. Yes.”
She thought she’d been pretty careful, but she had to ask. “It’s not hurting you…?”
“No! No, no! No. No, don’t even. No! It feels amazing. Too good. So good. It’ll probably hurt if you stop, but. No, I mean. You can stop, and that’s okay. But if you keep going, then I’m going to…. Do you want to keep going?”
“Ohhh,” she whispered, understanding his convoluted speech at last.
“Yeah,” he said, swallowing loudly, her hand not stopping. “Oh.”
Men were delicate creatures, she realized for one of the many times in her life. Probably, yes. It was prudent to take back her hand, and not let him start expecting things like her touching him. But this, like this, might be all she had, not only for him, but for herself, before their wedding night. And she somewhat selfishly wanted it.
“Will you show me…how?” she asked. And was thankful again for the dark.
He might have whimpered, she wasn’t sure.
“Eunhyuk. Can I?” he touched the back of her hand, and she acquiesced, letting him guide her. “A little faster…”
A little more firmly, his hand guiding her fingers more solidly around him.
“Like that?” she asked
“Yes. Yes. Eunhyuk, oh.”
“Let me,” she insisted, and he took back his hand with reluctance. If he wanted quicker, she could do that. If he wanted firmer, she could do that, too. Listening to his moans, hearing him in a way she never had before. He was enjoying what she did to him, and she nearly lost her rhythm when he beelined beneath her shirt, groping her as he attacked her mouth. It took no genius as his hips rocked, that he wanted quicker still, his hand convulsively squeezing at her breast. He was babbling something between kisses, something she couldn’t understand. And though she tried to pay attention to everything, it still surprised her when his body went taut, an almost injured cry into her shoulder. And she would have stopped entirely if he hadn’t been urging her on.
“Yes, please, yes. More like, oh, Eunhyuk…”
She was no stranger to orgasm, the sometimes violent peak of it, the rolling downward slough of pleasure and satisfaction. She could just barely make out that his eyes were closed, lungs finally slowing their bellowing desperation.
This time when he took her hand, he threaded their fingers together, lifting them until he could kiss her knuckles.
“My Eunhyuk,” he said as though his tongue were thick.
She kind of felt like Christmas morning, the sick hopefulness of it all. “It was okay.”
“Oh. Baby. If okay got promoted. Okay’s boss’s boss.”
She laughed. “You’re so weird.”
“Love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And then he sort of fell asleep, unconcerned for what she might want or need. But as she had earlier considered, she was no innocent flower. She knew how the world worked, and that men, were, well. Men. Sometimes it just worked that way. And she was okay with that, for now. She cozied her newfound knowledge and hoped that kept her from dying all over him in the morning when she realized again what she’d done. What she’d said.
What had she said? There would be obsessing. And a lot of chocolate.
And a lot more of Daniel.
***
She was running just slightly behind, she recognized that fact. When Daniel had texted her about going to dinner that night, she’d rolled her eyes at his last minute planning, but texted back that it was okay. So in reality, it was his fault that she was late, because she’d been asked to dress “pretty nice.” Which from Daniel could mean a myriad of things. She erred toward the nicer side of pretty nice, a dress with the sort of flirty skirt that she’d found on sale for next to nothing.
Her makeup was done, so all she had to do was get into the dress, and take her hair down out of the clips she’d stuck it up in. And hope there weren’t any weird crimps or flyaways.
And of course, Daniel was right on time. He looked nice, equivalent to what she would be wearing, in a sharp jacket and his hair rather severely tamed. Still. She smiled, because he was cute. She ushered him in, intending to dart away the second the door was closed.
“Hi, sorry I’m late. Got to dress, be right back.”
“Hey, wait a… Wait a second,” he laughed, reaching out and getting a grip on her arm. “I want a real hello.”
It wasn’t like she was naked, but she was definitely in transition. The little camisole over her bra, and the tiny shorts she was intending to wriggle out of. She hadn’t intended him to see her like that.
“You look cute,” he said, rather lasciviously she thought.
“Yes, well… Daniel!”
She half laughed his name as he maneuvered her against the wall, hands at her sides and a grin tilting his face.
“Just want to say hello to my girl,” he said.
She accepted the kiss without consideration to the gloss she had put on. It was nice. Very nice, to be greeted that way, and she let him know that.
“Hi,” she told him, smiling up into his eyes as their noses bumped.
“I like your…shirt.”
She would have giggled, but his mouth cut her off, catching her lips, her jaw. Her neck, and collarbone. And as he drew her up slightly, his arm behind her back, she inhaled as his mouth met the hollow of her shoulder. Rubbing his nose across her sternum before pressing a kiss to the opposite side.
“I think I met this part of you first at the club, didn’t I?” he teased.
When she had fallen into him? Yes. She remembered that all too clearly. Her face was burning, her skin tingling, and she couldn’t keep herself from chewing at her lower lip as they considered each other. With so little, he could make her want.
“Makes me think we should stay in,” he said softly. “But another night. Go get dressed, slowpoke.”
His pat to her butt got her moving, like a colt shying away. She got her hair down, and thought idly she should get it trimmed. It had grown some, though Daniel seemed to like it. She was nearly into her dress when she noticed something odd. A sort of shimmer on her skin.
And she laughed, loudly and unrestrained, when she realized what it was. When Daniel had kissed her, he had glossed his lips from hers. And as he kissed down her neck, onto her upper chest, he had left a sticky, shiny trail of glossy marks. Luckily that was quickly fixed, and gloss applied back to her own mouth.
She grabbed her little bag, and knowing Daniel was going to be with her, was ready for whatever would come next.
1.
She’d been pretty sure what had and had not been off limits, sexually speaking, from the point at which she realized Daniel actually wanted her. And that thought was surprising, flattering, and arousing all at once. And maybe because she was a good girl, she had made little castles in her head about what her first time having sex would be like. Ideally, with her husband. Granted, that thought didn’t go with what her friends understood, given that she was being asked if they were doing it, from the moment the engagement ring was warmed on her skin, really. Like sex was his reward for her accepting him.
And it wasn’t like she was made of rock. He was good looking, without any doubts. She loved him. She fantasized about him.
And he more or less understood what it was she wanted, and why.
Or she thought he did, anyway.
8.
Eunhyuk wouldn’t have called herself jealous by any stretch of the imagination. Or at least, she had never really found a reason until she had started dating Daniel. And it wasn’t because of lack of trust, that wasn’t it at all. She’d just never cared that much. And the few times she had to actually pull out the jealousy factor, well. She didn’t like it. Even knowing she had a ring on her finger didn’t help all that much, when there was a long-fingered, well-manicured hand resting on Daniel’s arm, like some sort of proprietary tag. Like she knew her hand was all right there, and that she could say his name in that hopeful tone.
The girl looked like no doe-eyed ingenue, or a calculating harpy either. She could have started hating the latter, and wondering where to find some celery for the former, but this she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with.
Fortunately Daniel did, sliding his arm away, and around Eunhyuk. His wife.
And the woman? A sister of one of Daniel’s coworkers, also happily married as they saw evidence of just moment later. So she had her silly moments, it was true, jealousy warranted or not. But there was at least greater proof than the rings on their fingers. Daniel made sure her glass was filled with juice, and his was the only hand welcome to touch her rounding stomach as the party wore on.
“I’m ready to go when you are,” he murmured against her ear. So being pregnant had it’s uses, as they grinned at each other.
And then he waggled his eyebrows. Somehow, she thought they’d gotten into just this position because of what he was suggesting they do when they got home.
And when she thought of the way they’d met, well.
At least she hadn’t had to fall over him to do it.
***