You find yourself back at his door.
You're not sure if this is the fifth or the twentieth time you're standing here.
Despite the familiarity of it, it's your first time noticing the flowers carved into the wooden surface, curving and winding a simple pattern along it.
It's been longer than five minutes and you know, because he'd never let you wait this long if he could help it, so you knock louder.
You hear a loud thud this time and some shuffling, the whine of a door inside swinging open and the muffled sound of hurried footsteps coming closer on carpet.
Fixing your hair, you lightly bite your bottom lip to make them swell just a little, adjusting the posture of your body to look a bit more relaxed - as if you decided to swing by tonight because it was convenient. And there was, at least, some truth to that.
Wind graces your cheeks from the full force in which the door is pulled open. Jaehyun stands there wide-eyed as if he wasn't expecting you back, even if you've been here almost every fortnight (morning perhaps, if showing up only a few hours before daybreak is anything to go by). He's huffing, slightly out of breath, and you assume it's from rushing to get out of bed. His hair slightly sticks out in different directions, eyes squinting to adjust to the light in the hallway - it makes him all the more endearing.
"Were you asleep?" your tone is amused and light, and you're worried that he'll pick up on something apologetic in your words. "Thought you'd be waiting for me." He's still squinting, but you're sure he's already gotten used to the white light.
"I didn't think you'd be back." You shrug at that, trying to get rid of the fluttering feeling in your chest when you hear his voice, deep and gravelly from sleep. Stepping forward, Jaehyun steps to the side to let you in, crossing the threshold of his apartment.
"You don't want me here?" But you already know the answer to that, slipping off your coat onto the floor to reveal the tight black dress you've hidden underneath from his sight and the cool touch of the night air. The chill doesn't come, the burn of his stare on your back warms you up from the inside out. "I could leave if you want me to." Yet, even when you've said that, you're already making your way slowly to his bedroom.
His hands suddenly close around your waist, making you gasp, the heat of his palms sending shivers up your spine. You're pressed back into his body, feeling the firmness of his stomach when your arm bumps against it. "Stay," He urges, and you feel like putty in his hands then quickly grimace at the thought, shooing it away when you spin on your black high heels. "Please." His eyes are boring into yours now, dark ones that try to peer into your soul and that's one of the only things you dislike about this - his eagerness to know you.
But he's hard to resist under the yellow glow of the bathroom light, its door cracked open just a little to radiate off his pretty skin. The neckline of his white shirt hangs lazily across his collarbone and you curse inwardly at how attractive one man can be wearing his home clothes, grey sweatpants settling low on his hips. You want to give him what he wants - what you both want - to just slide your hand down the front of his waistband and grip his thick cock, pump him until he cums, see him fall apart by your hand but there's no fun in giving in so easily.
So your thumb comes up to graze over his bottom lip instead, his mouth parting slightly, and satisfaction pools in your gut seeing his lips tremble. "And why shouldn't I leave?" You drag your eyes up to his face until you're meeting his ones again, heat thrumming to life in your belly when you see how dark they've grown. You think he's already lost it but his fingers dig into your hips until they're bruising, desperation lingering, and you wonder faintly if he's afraid you'll disappear again by daylight.
