Touch Therapy: Where Hands Go, Bodies Beg

Somewhere in the middle of the night, the silence shifted.

A rustle of blankets.A soft exhale.

Harin blinked in the dark, her body slow to respond.

Warmth cradled her from behind—firm, steady, comforting. Joon-ho's arm was around her waist, his breath brushing the back of her neck. She realized with a flutter in her chest:

She hadn't just fallen asleep beside him.

She'd fallen asleep in his arms.

She shifted slightly.

He stirred behind her.

"…Can't sleep?" he murmured, voice low, still rough with sleep.

"I… didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't."

She hesitated. "I forgot how it feels to… fall asleep like this. With someone holding me."

Joon-ho didn't say anything.

But he pulled her in closer.

His hand slid slowly up her stomach, palm warm against the thin fabric of her blouse. She wasn't wearing a bra. She hadn't changed before bed.

Her heart pounded.

"Joon-ho…" she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I still want to know what it feels like…"

He kissed the back of her neck.

Soft. Barely there.

Then again, a little lower.

She shivered.

His hand moved higher, fingers grazing the underside of her breast. She arched instinctively, pressing back into him.

"Turn around," he said.

She did.

Now face to face. Nose to nose. Breath to breath.

She could feel him—hard already, pressed against her hip under the blanket. His eyes searched hers in the dark.

"You sure?" he asked.

She nodded.

That's all it took.

His lips found hers. Warm. Patient. But hungry. They kissed slow, mouths parting, tongues tasting. Harin moaned softly, her hands curling into his shirt. He kissed down her jaw, then her throat, pausing to suck lightly at the same spot she'd been marked before.

She gasped.

His hands began unbuttoning her blouse—slowly, carefully, fingers brushing over her skin as each button gave way. He pushed it off her shoulders. Let it fall.

She was bare underneath.

Joon-ho paused to take her in.

"…Beautiful," he murmured.

She blushed in the dark, trying to cover her chest.

He caught her wrists.

"Let me see you."

She let go.

His hands moved to her breasts, cupping them gently, thumbs brushing her nipples until they hardened under his touch. He leaned in and sucked one into his mouth, slow and wet.

She moaned aloud.

"Joon-ho—"

"Shhh," he whispered, lips brushing her nipple, "you'll wake the neighbors."

"This is your house," she breathed.

"Still. Keep moaning like that, someone might walk in asking for treatment."

She giggled.

He kissed lower. Stomach. Navel. Hips.

Her skirt was still on. Bare legs already trembling. He pushed it up slowly and kissed the inside of her thighs.

She was soaked.

And he hadn't even touched her pussy yet.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" he said against her skin.

She nodded breathlessly. "Since college."

He smiled.

Then slid his tongue between her legs.

She gasped—hands gripping the sheets.

Her back arched. Her legs spread wider. Her voice? Gone except for broken, whispered cries of "yes… please…"

And this was just the beginning.