❝ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐲 ❞- ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏᴜɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴍʙᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxQᴜɪꜱɪᴛᴇ ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴʏ ᴏꜰ ꜱɪᴍᴜʟᴛᴀɴᴇᴏᴜꜱ ᴏᴄᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ.
In the heart of Seoul, two strangers, Lee Minho and Han Jisung, are inexplicably united through their dreams. Every night, Minho, a software deve...
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♥༻∞ ʜᴀɴ ᴊɪꜱᴜɴɢ ∞༺♥
As the taxi neared our apartment, the anticipation between us built, each glance and touch charged with a current of eager passion. The moment the car stopped, we hurriedly paid the fare and stumbled out, barely managing to close the door behind us before we were drawn back into each other's arms.
Our kisses deepened, fueled by the night's revelry and the private world we had inhabited just moments before in the garden. Hands roamed with purpose as we made our way up the stairs to the apartment, each step punctuated with soft laughs and eager, breathless kisses. The keys jangled in my unsteady hands, but eventually, the door swung open, revealing the familiar comfort of home that now promised new memories.
Once inside, our kisses became a pathway, leading us towards the bedroom. Each step was a dance, a playful but fervent undressing that began in the hallway. Jackets were the first to go, dropped carelessly to the floor. Shoes were kicked off without a thought, our hands busy tugging at each other's shirts. Buttons gave way, fabric parted, and soon, shirts joined the growing pile on the floor.
Minho's hands were gentle yet insistent, his touch sending shivers across my skin as he traced the lines of my torso, slowly peeling away the layers between us. My own fingers mirrored his actions, exploring the newly revealed skin with a mixture of awe and desire. Our movements were a mix of haste and deliberate slowness, each touch savored, each kiss deepening our connection.
We finally reached the bedroom, our path marked by a trail of discarded clothing. There, the outside world faded completely, swallowed by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Our eyes locked, speaking volumes in the silence, a silent agreement that tonight was just another chapter in the beautiful story we were writing together.
Gently, I pushed Minho towards the bed, our hands still exploring as we navigated the last barriers of clothing. With each piece that fell away, our breathing grew heavier, more syncopated with our rising pulses. Finally, we tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and soft sighs, the outside rain a distant companion to the warmth we generated beneath the sheets.
His soft murmur vibrated against my lips as I gently guided him further onto the bed, his back settling into the soft sheets. Hovering over him, I felt the warmth of his skin radiate beneath me, an inviting contrast to the cool air of the room. His fingers found their way into my hair, threading through the strands with a gentle firmness, tugging me closer, a silent plea for more closeness, more contact.
As I responded to his subtle invitation, I shifted my weight to support myself with one arm while the other traced the contours of his face, down his jawline to the tender skin of his neck. His breath hitched slightly as my lips made contact below his ear, a sensitive spot that elicited a soft gasp from him. I took my time, placing delicate kisses down his neck, savoring the softness of his skin and the quickening pulse beneath my lips.
