Drenched in Desire

Jaeho couldn't stop thinking about the man in the rain.

He'd returned home to the cold, lifeless walls of his penthouse, but no matter how hard he tried to focus on the stacks of reports on his desk or the looming pressure of his upcoming engagement party, his thoughts kept drifting back to Eunsu.

The sharpness of his voice, the defiance in his eyes, the way his wet shirt clung to his slender frame. Jaeho felt like a fool. He had encountered thousands of people in his life, yet a random stranger had managed to unsettle him in a way no one else ever had.

Get it together, he told himself, sipping the whiskey he didn't even want. Yet his body betrayed him, heat pooling low in his stomach every time he remembered the brief brush of Eunsu's fingers against his own.

Across the city, Eunsu stood in front of the mirror in his cramped bathroom, his reflection staring back at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity.

The coat Jaeho had given him hung over a chair in the corner, its expensive fabric a glaring contrast to the worn-down furniture in Eunsu's apartment. He ran his fingers through his damp hair, frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Why the hell did you even get in that car?" he muttered to himself. He hated rich people—arrogant, entitled, always looking down on people like him. Yet Jaeho hadn't fit the mold. His voice had been firm but not condescending, his gestures precise but strangely thoughtful.

And then there was the way he looked at Eunsu. Not with pity, but with something else. Something dangerous. Something that made Eunsu's breath catch.

The next encounter came sooner than either of them expected.

Jaeho hadn't planned to seek him out. He had convinced himself it was a coincidence, though he knew deep down it wasn't. He had taken a detour on his way to a business meeting, passing through the same street where he had picked up Eunsu.

And there he was.

Eunsu stood outside a small café, talking to a group of people. His hands moved animatedly as he spoke, paint stains still visible on his fingers. He laughed at something someone said, his smile genuine, unguarded. Jaeho found himself gripping the steering wheel tightly, a wave of something hot and unfamiliar crashing over him.

He parked the car and stepped out before he could second-guess himself.

Eunsu noticed him immediately, his expression shifting from amusement to surprise—and then to something unreadable.

"You again," Eunsu said as Jaeho approached, his tone teasing but wary. "Are you stalking me now?"

Jaeho's lips twitched. "You wish."

Eunsu raised a brow, crossing his arms. "So what's a guy like you doing in a place like this? Slumming it for fun?"

"I was passing by," Jaeho replied evenly. "And I thought I'd say hello."

Eunsu tilted his head, studying him. "Rich guys like you don't just 'say hello.' What do you want, Jaeho?"

The sound of his name on Eunsu's lips sent a shiver down his spine. It was the first time he'd heard it spoken with that mix of mockery and intimacy, like Eunsu was testing its weight.

"Coffee," Jaeho said, surprising even himself. "Unless you're too busy."

Eunsu blinked, clearly caught off guard. For a moment, he looked like he might refuse, but then he shrugged. "Sure. Why not? Let's see if you're as interesting as you think you are."

Inside the café, the air between them crackled with tension.

Eunsu sat across from Jaeho, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. Jaeho tried not to let his eyes linger on Eunsu's hands—slender, strong, and smeared with faint traces of blue and red paint. Instead, he focused on Eunsu's face, on the way his lips curled into a smirk every time Jaeho hesitated.

"So," Eunsu said, breaking the silence. "What's your deal? Corporate heir with too much time on your hands? Or just bored with your perfect little life?"

Jaeho leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady. "Do you always assume the worst of people?"

"Only when I'm right," Eunsu shot back.

Jaeho's lips twitched again, a rare flicker of amusement. "Maybe I'm not as predictable as you think."

Eunsu leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Oh? Then prove it."

Jaeho didn't flinch under Eunsu's stare. Instead, he reached out and slid his phone across the table.

"Give me your number," he said, his tone calm but laced with something undeniable.

Eunsu blinked, clearly caught off guard. For the first time since they met, he didn't have a quick retort.

"You're serious?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Jaeho didn't answer, holding his gaze.

For a moment, the world seemed to still. The café faded into the background, leaving only the charged space between them. Eunsu's lips parted slightly, his cheeks flushing faintly as he picked up the phone and entered his number.

When he slid it back across the table, his fingers brushed Jaeho's again, sending a jolt through both of them.

"There," Eunsu said, his voice quieter now, almost breathless. "Your move, Mr. Perfect."

Jaeho's eyes darkened, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

"Oh, I intend to make it."