He groans into my mouth, and I use that moment to push back, trying to take control again. But Han is stronger than he looks, and for once, he's not letting me win.
"Frustrated?" he murmurs between kisses, smirking against my lips.
I bite at his jaw...
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A/N: Dear bestfriend, you know who you are. Respectfully cover your eyes for this one...
Han's hands shoot to my belt with a suddenness that sends my mind reeling. I don't know if I should stop him, push him away, or just stand here and let him unravel me like this. I freeze, my fingers digging into his waist out of reflex, caught somewhere between desperation and disbelief. His eyes flicker up, sharp with challenge, daring me to make a move, to say anything that would stop him.
"Han... Han, what... are you doing?" The words sound as though they're dragged from me, not quite a question, more a statement of my own shock. But he just looks at me with that maddening smirk, unfazed and brazen, his fingers slipping through my belt loops without a shred of shame.
I'm rooted to the spot, completely at his mercy, because I know—hell, he knows—that I'm not stopping him. Not after all the tension, the months of this twisted push and pull between us. Han knows he's got me, and he knows I'm not going anywhere.
His gaze drops to where he's working the belt free, and he raises his eyes again, just enough to catch the uncertainty flickering in mine. "Your little problem down there needs fixing," he purrs, his voice too casual, too amused, and damn if that doesn't just make it worse. The heat rushes to my face as my hold on his waist loosens involuntarily, that confident smirk of his never faltering.
And that—that smirk—is the final undoing of whatever shred of self-control I have left.
Han pulls the belt free, tossing it carelessly to the ground. I'm helpless to stop him as his hands trail lower, pressing over me with a taunting slowness that sends a shock straight through me. My head tips back involuntarily, a groan slipping past my defenses, and the satisfaction on his face when I look back down is maddening. My hands tighten on his waist, probably harder than I intended, and to my curiosity, he flinches, a quiet, breathy whine escapes him, and that sound alone almost does me in.
Then he leans in, close enough that his breath warms my neck, and I feel his mouth press against my skin, teasing, deliberate, like he's daring me to lose control. The sensation sends heat pooling through me, a rough growl tearing from my throat as he continues his relentless assault. Every nerve in my body is on edge, and I'm so close to breaking, to snapping and pinning him against the wall, to finally giving in to everything I've been holding back.
"You don't want to play this game, Han," I manage, though my voice sounds fractured, practically begging for mercy. But he doesn't stop; he presses closer, eyes alight with victory as he smirks against my skin, drawing his lips over the sensitive spot just above my collar.
"Clearly, you don't know shit about me, Hwang Hyunjin," he whispers, tauntingly soft.
And in that moment, I know I've lost—lost whatever battle I thought I could win against him, lost every shred of control I'd convinced myself I could keep. But he's not done yet. His hands are still on me, and he's smirking that infuriating, intoxicating smirk that I know will haunt me long after this moment ends.
