film contains…….You are doing skin care for your best friend by sitting on his lap as usual, while he is gaming, but accidentally grind on him, ending up with his cock inside you
film caution …….MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Unprotected sex(don’t do it) dry humping, making out/ kissing, grinding, fingering, edging, nipple play, talking abt fem!reader body parts, neck kisses, nipping the neck, spanking, usage of the word ass, clit play?, mentions of nick names like baby and etc, riding, tell me if anything more should be mentioned.
film length………5.2min(5.2k)
film keeper whispers ……….This is my first ever time publishing fic, I’m learning to write since I imagine a lot, I want to get it into words and now I got an idea for this with the help of Pinterest 😪. I tried my best, and slowly I’m gonna start my oneshot, idk how long it’s gonna be 🤷♀️. If any mistakes, let me know. Please request if u want anything. I will try my best to write butI’m a slow writer 😢. Would love moots, reblogs and likes ♥️
film melody playing……….. into you- ariana grande
˚ ༘ 🎞️ ｡𖦹 ° 🎥 ⁀જ⁀➴ film starting……..
The chaotic bursts of neon light from the monitors washes over the room, casting long, jagged shadows against the walls of Heeseung’s room.
The room smells of expensive cologne, ozone from the humming PC, carrying the faint and sterile scent of rosewater and gentle soap in the air.
You are seated on Heeseung’s lap, straddling his hips, knees around them, on his chair, facing him in a position that the friction of your thighs against his jogger’s can’t be ignored.
Heeseung is fully concentrating on his game for now.
His eyes are sharp, darting to every move in the game, playing it very carefully though you are quite a distraction to him.
The headset he has on is filled with sounds of explosions and gunshots, and he pushes one piece of the headset aside so he can hear you.
You hold a small glass jar aloe vera gel, the product cool and smooth between your fingertips.
You’ve been massaging it on his face for the past ten minutes or maybe you just use it as an excuse to stay on his lap longer.
But then still, you don’t care about the game he was playing, you just wanted to end the ‘washing face with whatever soap is there in the shower’ routine for him, so he can get good and fresh skin.
“Stop moving idiot” you murmur, voice soft but firm and commanding him a little because he keeps on moving.
You can feel the heat radiating from him as you blend the cream on his face in small upwards circles.
His jaw is clenched, trying his best not to feel you and your stupid tactics as a distraction, which you are sitting innocently on his lap like you don't understand what’s wrong in doing this.
“I’m in an important fight, Y/N” he grunts, though there’s no real anger behind his voice.
“If I lose this round, I’m gonna blame you and your so-called skincare routine” he adds, mocking lightly.
“Uhh, my skincare routine is obviously way better than whatever you do in the stupid shower,” you retort, sliding your fingers on his temple now.
“No soap is gonna clean your face like my skincare does, your skin feel shit, and it’s screaming for help, so think of this as an upgrade for your face”
He lets out a laugh, his eyes fixed towards the screen. “Sure,” he says as if it’s nothing, “My skin has a mouth and it’s screaming”.
You roll your eyes at that, moving a little back so you can look at him even though he doesn’t.
“Just because it doesn’t have a loud, cocky mouth like you, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” you shoot back.
“And for your kind information,” you continue, leaning closer to his face again, to spread the gel on his face, “You’re skin is so dehydrated, maybe it looks fine, but it really isn’t, so be grateful”
“I should be— What? grateful? Why? And what? I have a cocky mouth?” he splutters, turning towards you showing an exaggerated, horrified expression which was totally just acting.
"First place, I don’t even care about my skin, Second, you should be grateful that I’m letting you do this while I’m literally in the middle of a serious fight, Third—”
“Hey, dont move!,” you interrupt, pushing back his face towards the screen.
“I can’t do it properly, if you keep moving” you add and he becomes quiet and goes back to playing his game very seriously.
You slowly get even more closer to his face.
For real, you’ve done this almost a hundred times before, sitting on his lap touching his face and all stuff, but today something in the air feels different.
For the first time the closeness doesn’t feel normal.
It feels dangerous, surreal and maybe something new.
Every time he breathes near you, every time his chest brushes against yours, you feel your pulse raise.
You try to ignore it, focusing your attention back to what you are doing, but it only makes it worse, because now, you’re actually looking at him.
The sharp line of his nose, the long lashes that fall against his skin, the bambi-like looking eyes, and then your gaze drops down— unintentionally.
You blink, realizing you are staring at him, you shake your head slightly to clear it, pushing those sudden, distracting thoughts away as quickly as they come.
You don't want to be caught by him, which will only make it more embarrassing.
You quickly turn back to your work— properly this time.
So, you shift your weight, moving closer to him, trying to adjust the position so reaching the bridge of his nose would be easier.
As you move, your thighs slide against his joggers, hips very slightly against each other, the friction sending a sudden spark through your body, but you push it away.
It was just a small moment for you, which you just want to ignore, but it sent a shudder through Heeseung’s body which you didn’t know.
“Fuck—” Heeseung groans, throwing his head back against the chair, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, suddenly gripping your hip with one hand so tightly as you freeze at the pressure.
“Don’t—Don’t fucking do that, I’m trying my best to concentrate, baby” he forces out softly, the words tight as he grits his teeth.
You don’t understand what happened.
One second, you’re applying the gel on his face, moving closer to reach his nose—and the next, he throws his head against the chair and it’s pissing you since you already told him to not move.
“I said to not move, Heeseung!! And seriously, it’s not my mistake that you can’t concentrate on your game” you say, a hint of irritation slipping through your voice.
You don’t understand what is wrong or what is his problem, even though it was quite obvious you couldn’t figure it out, so you just get back to working on his face.
You shift your weight again, trying to adjust your position to get a better angle on his face, slightly moving left.
This movement causes your leggings to unintentionally rub your thigh against his growing hardness.
“Baby, fuck—“ he rasps, as his other hand also leaves keyboard to grab the other side of your hip and holds you so tightly with both of the hands that you were sure it will leave few bruises by tomorrow.
His head abruptly falls on your shoulder as the room fills with the loud harsh blares from the monitor which indicates he lost the game but you didn’t know it.
“Heeseung what the—” before you could even scold him, you gasp from him pulling you down, pressing you against him in a way that you can feel his big bulge on your core.
“Heeseung….” you whisper, your voice trembling.
“Don’t—fucking don’t,” he starts, speaking as his head is still on your shoulder, you hear it in his voice, how he is trying his all best to control himself.
“Don’t tell me stop when all I was doing was sitting here….trying my all best to control myself, while here you are sitting on my fucking lap, moving how ever you want……. God! Y/N you’ve been killing me here, I can’t stop anymore—”
He stops talking, lifting his head from your shoulder before capturing your lips in a searing, aching, desperate kiss, hands moving from your hips to your waist, gripping it so tightly it knocks the air out of your lungs.
He kisses you rough, like gentleness isn’t even an option right now, like he’s done holding back, done pretending this doesn’t mean anything as the gel smears on your face from his face.
All the years of your friendship, when he did his best to hold back, but now he’s done.
For a second you forget how to breathe, the intensity, the desperation and the desire from his mouth against yours, knocking the thoughts out of your brain.
You don’t even process the fact that HE, HE, your best friend is kissing you right now. Never in a million years did you think this out of all would happen—a lie you had a lot of sex dreams with him cuz he was too hot, and……..never mind.
You are still trying to process this when the grip on your waist tightens to pull you out of your thoughts.
The jar slips from your hand, shattering into pieces, and gel spreads everywhere on the floor, but you don’t even notice it.
You melt against him, your hand slowly moving from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers curling tightly in the hair as you pull him closer and kiss him back with the same desire, desperation and intensity.
He lets out a low deep growl, something filled with satisfaction like he knew you would kiss him without holding back.
It vibrates through your whole body, slowly heat starts coiling up in your lower belly more than what you felt a while ago.
You start feeling needy and want him more than you ever did.
But then he pulls back, forehead against yours, his breath hot, and his lips swollen from the hard rough kiss.
“Tell me to stop—” he whispers against your mouth in a low hoarse, octave voice which sends a shiver through your body.
You shake your head instantly before he can even finish.
“No,” you whisper, the word barely leaving your throat. “Don’t. Please don’t ”
You roll your hips against his voluntarily.
You need more.
You need the friction to not be a tease and start being the truth. The reality.
“Fuck—“ Heeseung hisses the moment he hears the deny and feels the roll of your hips directly against his bulge.
This time you’ve done it on purpose, you need more and you are clearly showing it.
He roughly grabs your jaw,tilting your head back, and crashing his lips on to yours again.
This time it’s all tongue and teeth, he doesn’t ask for permission, he claims it like it’s his.
You gasp into the kiss, this was more aggressive and desperate han before.
He takes his chance to enter his tongue into your mouth when you gasp.
His tongue plunges into your mouth, taking in your whispers and every inch of your mouth, he doesn’t waste a single single second.
His palm is hot.
He moves his hand from your waist to your hips as they slowly slip under your long hoodie or probably his which you wear all the time.
His hands move on your lower back, pulling you closer that there isn’t a millimetre also left between you both.
He breaks the kiss to move lower, his lips dragging along your jaw, sucking gently, before moving down to the column of your throat.
You tilt your head back without thinking, giving him more, your fingers going to his shoulders to hold tightly as his kisses grow firmer, more lingering.
“Hee….mm….Hee…” your breath stutters, his name coming from your mouth like a chant, unsteady whispers, which you can’t hold back anymore.
His hand moves down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before delivering a spank.
His palm against your ass made you leave out a loud gasp, your back arching slightly.
He doesn’t pull away, he soothes it down slowly, in a way it makes your toe curl.
The literal sensation sends sparks right over to your core, making you clench a round nothing.
He starts placing open mouthed kisses near your collarbone and neck, his breath hot and damp, leaving the warmth of his mouth behind.
He moves below your ear, instantly financing your sweet spot and nips your skin lightly.
You let out a sharp cry, breathing unsteadily.
The moment you let it out, he leans in again, nipping it harder than before, sucking a dark, purple mark, visibly claiming you.
He follows down to your collarbone, nipping wherever he finds your sweet spots to let out those sweet little sounds that feel like music to his ears.
You don’t stop, you keep whimpering his name, gasping when his tongue darts out to lick gently after nipping on your sweet spots.
You are drenched.
Your panties are suffocatingly tight because of the silk clinging to your folds as you leak for him.
You need him.
You need to feel full.
You were sure it is making it hard to even take in air properly just because of his hot kisses on your body.
One of his hands tugs the hem of your hoodie, asking you permission if he was allowed to remove it while he was still busy marking you up.
“Yes! Please—remove it” you please, your voice cracking a little bit.
He doesn’t even take a second to tug it off, the moment you accept it, in one fluid motion he pulls it off you.
For a second he freezes.
You aren’t wearing a bra, the cool air hitting your bare skin, making your nipples harden and maybe you weren’t even sure if it was air or his gaze all over your body making you turn again and again and again…..
You aren’t wearing anything else except the black lace of your panties peeking out of your tiny shorts you wore.
“Fuck baby—” he growls, his eye’s darkening, pupils expanding until his hazel is almost entirely black.
He looks at you like you’re both sin and miracle given to him at once.
“This is what you have been gatekeeping from me, huh?” he asks, his hands moving to cup the underside of your breast, lifting them up slightly, as his thumb slightly grazes over the peck.
You whimper, throwing your head back at that little touch surge of pleasure shoots to your core.
“This tiny waist,” his hands moving to the mid section, squeezing the softness there, devouring your body with his eyes.
“These wide, beautiful hips,” his finger moving on the waistband, pulling the elastic tight.
He bends a little, pressing a hot, lingering kiss right above the fabric of your panties, his lips grazing the skin of your hip.
The sensation sends a jolt through your body, sending shivers as your legs shake.
“Including the ass you’ve been teasing me with for years,” he said his voice filled with lust and love, and then he looks at you, how you look wrecked just for his touch.
He spanks you again, harder and more firm this time.
You cry out, a sound filled with shock, pleasure and pain, but please wins it all for now.
You thought he would probably soothe it again but no, it was paining harder but he made no movement to touch or soothe it, just casually leans back on to the chair.
He just lets it linger there, making it a reminder for you.
To remind you, who you actually belong to though he hasn’t fucked the shit out you yet.
Now his gaze isn’t on your face, it moves lower.
Your neck. No
Your collarbone. No
Your Shoulders. No
Just shamelessly, directly looking at your breasts with a hungry gaze, something you wanted to see all along.
“And finally……these beautiful, big boobs” he whispers.
He bends down, his lips hovering right over your breast, his hot breath teasing your nipples.
And then he pecks it…..to just tease you more.
The moment his hot breath was on your nipple.
Just his hot breath.
Hot.
Breath.
You found yourself getting hungrier for him, you didn’t want him to tease you, you needed him, right then and there.
He knew it, he knew how you felt, how you are breathing, how you need him, but won’t give you what you want right now.
“Hee please—” you grind on him again but he holds back your hips making you stop, before you please again or tell him how badly you need him.
Then he starts sucking it, like he can’t hold back anymore, like this was the last thing left on the earth, maybe even like he was thirsty for them.
He wants to tease you, but couldn't hold himself back from you either, that grinding, those pleas from your mouth, made him rethink his decision from teasing you.
You could hear his sucking sounds, wet and vulgar, because of the wetness of his saliva spreading on to your nipples.
Your back arches, your hands instinctively find his hair, gripping it tightly.
He groans at the tight pull of his hair, making him harder underneath.
He sucks on your nipples, tongue circling around the peck, and tugging it slightly before sucking it again, doing the same thing over and over again, while his other hand finds your breast, squeezing, kneading it and rolling your nipple in between his fingers.
You moan, loud, honest, no stopping.
The pleasure was too good.
Your hips start bucking instantly against his bulge again, rolling your hips harder than before, grinding more.
He notices it as he pulls back from sucking with a wet plop.
“Eager now baby?” He teases, his voice dropping low.
You nod, hips moving harder, searching for friction.
For a second he thought to let you do something at least for yourself or not stopping you like he was before but no, straight away his hands move to your hips stopping you right when you thought it was getting better.
Then he bends down and moves to the other breast without a word to you, giving it the same attention as before, while his other hand was on the breast which was wet from his saliva, but still playing with it, satisfying you with his hand.
It was good, undeniably you like you, but the fact that your pussy was throbbing to be filled was not ignorable.
You didn't want to wait.
“Hee….please…please..I need you so bad—ahh” you let out a sharp cry as he bites down your nipples, his hands lowering, across your thighs and rids your shorts from your legs without asking you.
“Needy baby?” He asks as he pulls back, like knew nothing.
“Hee—ahhh” you moan when his fingers touch the wetness of your pussy just through the lace black panties.
“So wet for me baby” he coos as he feels the moisture soaking through the lace.
He finally strips them away also, leaving you bare on his lap, pressing against him.
The contact is sharp, as now you are directly pressing against the rough fabric over his bulge.
He finds his way to your clit, pressing on the swollen bud right away, rubbing it in circles with no patience, but with punishing pressure that makes your vision blur.
Your mouth opens, letting out sharp breaths, eyes shut, finally getting whatever you’ve been longing for, you instinctively bite down on your lips as choked sobs and moans come out of your throat.
“No baby, don’t bite your lip, don’t stop, moan for me, darling” he says softly, before pushing 2 fingers into your soaking warmth at once.
You scream from the sudden push, it wasn’t warned, it was too sudden.
He starts pushing deeper into your spongy walls, as your walls clench around his fingers, he groans in your neck, his fingers curling in spots making you moan and vision blur from the pleasure.
“Fuck baby, thats it, take my fingers like a good girl” he finally adds the third finger, stretching you apart as you wail, and then heeseung leans to kiss you again, tongue entering your mouth directly, taking in all your sounds while pumping his fingers in and out, while his thumb presses and circles on your bud.
He moves faster, pulling away from the kiss, gripping your hips tightly while pumping his fingers faster, your hands move to his shoulders tightening as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, while whimpering and gasping, leaving out breathy huffs.
As you feel your orgasm building, tightening low in your belly, just the tension in your thighs becomes unbearable.
“Hee— I’m—” before could even finish your sentence, he pulled out his fingers, just only the pad of his thumb pressing over your swollen clit, trapping the pleasure before it could explode.
Your eyes open wide, blown in shock as a moan of frustration screeches from your throat at the literal loss of his fingers inside.
“Hee, why–” you gasp, hips bucking instinctively towards his hand wanting more.
“Mmm” he just hums, looking down at your pussy while circling your clit, rubbing it in small circles but never quite providing the friction you need to tip over the edge.
“Hee, please!” you whine, trying to grind his hand, but he holds your hip tight enough to not let you move, he is still looking at your pussy, but then finally looks up.
Eyes dark with lust, his smoldering gaze at you making you pause for a second before he says “please, what?” in a low octave, his voice sounding husky.
“I-I need to come,” you wail, grinding on his bulge over his rough fabric making you want more, in fact you’ve never felt this needy.
Him edging you just made it worse, you couldn't take the teasing now, you need him and you won't stop asking for it.
“please hee please I need you, I want you so badly. I can’t take it anymore!!” you beg.
He chuckles, a dark, hungry sound.
He doesn't put his fingers back in you or do anything you asked for.
Instead, he starts to kiss you, deep, demanding kisses that taste of mint and desperation.
The intensity of the kiss swallows you while leaving you breathless and your hands move to his head, running your hands through his long, lustrous black hair.
His tongue slides against yours, sucking and swirling desperately while sliding down his joggers and boxer to pull his cock out.
He pulls away from the kiss, pulling your head back away from his.
You look down into his hands and the moment you saw it, you were starstuck.
He is big.
Not big like you think, very big in a way you weren't sure if you could even take him.
It was shocking.
You knew this was coming, when you guys crossed your lines today but god he is just so big.
His cock is big, fucking standing straight, curling a little but still so so straight in way you never stood in your whole life, wow, it is hot and swollen, throbbing as the tip is in a beautifully pink color, glistening with precum as he held the shaft in his hand.
You are staring at it shamelessly, because who wouldn't look at something so beautiful and gorgeous.
“Like what you see baby?” he asks, when he caught you staring at his cock.
You snap out of your thoughts, raising your head up, eyes locking on to his eyes, as your cheeks burn from embarrassment.
“Want it inside you baby?” he questions as he feels your arousal just by looking at you face.
You nod slightly and that's what it takes before he jerks it on your pussy once, slapping his cock against it a few times, spreading his precum all over.
An unfiltered screech comes out of your throat, showing how needy you are when he slaps the tip on your pussy.
You move a little, rubbing it a little on his cock, whimpering a little.
“You want it so bad right? You’ll get it baby” he doesn't wait another second.
He grips your waist and heaves you upward and then slams you down on to his cock.
Your hands find their way to his shoulders as you scream into the crook of his neck when he buries himself, all the way to the hilt inside you in one fluid, powerful motion.
The fullness is overwhelming, a blunt pressure that hits your cervix and sends ripples of pleasure radiating through your entire lower body.
The sensation is overwhelming, the feeling of being completely filled, the stretch of your pussy, the sudden, intense heat of him deep within your pussy.
You feel your internal muscles spasm around him, clamping down tight, clenching it so tight which makes Heeseung leave a raw guttural growl out feeling you all around him.
His cock twitches inside you, showing how badly he needed this.
“Baby–fuck, so tight…you feel so good baby” he says, his hands sliding down to your ass gripping.
You stay still for a moment, both of you catching your breath, the only sound the heavy thrum of the PC fans and your synchronized gasping.
The gaming chair creaks as you begin to move, tentatively at first, lifting your hips a few inches and then sliding back down.
You only lift an inch before slamming back down, the impact making the gaming chair rock precariously.
The feeling of him filling inside you was so so good, that you didn't care about anyone hearing your moans, as your moans echo all through the room.
Your grip on his shoulder tightens as the pleasure of him being inside you, stretching you apart with his cock was the best feeling you ever felt.
The squelching and wet sounds of your pussy moving on his cock, taking him all the way down to his shaft, then moving back halfway, and falling back down, with your moans and Heeseung’s groans fill you the room.
The sounds are lewd, obscene or even pornographic, it didn't feel real.
You riding your best friend's cock feels like a dreaming true.
You slowly find your rhythm, more confident, more desperate.
Your mouth falls agape, moaning loudly every time you ride him, head falls back as the tip hits that spot that makes you see stars, your breasts bounce with every downward thrust, your hardened nipples scrape against his shirt every time.
“Yes, just like that baby” he groans as his head hits the chair, while he grips your ass and starts lifting you higher so he can move deeper.
You are desperate now, the need for release overriding everything.
The friction against your clit is intense, a searing heat that builds with every slide.
You lean forward, your hair falling over your face, your mouth finding his again.
The kiss is sloppy, desperate, the sound of your tongues clashing mixing with the wet slaps of your bodies.
Tentatively, Heeseung also starts moving his hips up, thrusting upward slowly, testing the waters to see how it would be.
And fuck it, it was so so so good.
“Ahh” you moan as the tip of his cock hits deeper in your pussy, as your walls clench around him in pleasure.
You scream into his mouth, it is so intense, your pussy takes him all the way on to his shaft.
You keep riding him until you feel that low tingling feeling in your lower stomach.
You are about to come, you needed it any minute now.
You are moving faster, breath uneven, shamelessly moaning so loudly, you are sure your neighbours could hear it but you couldn't care less.
“Ngh heee” you wail, you dont know if its pain or pleasure or all together but it was good and stretching you apart and finally you are about to come.
“Hee–hee i-m im coming!!” you choke out, the orgasm is about to come as he moves his hips faster, thrusting harder.
“Yes baby, yes, come for me, come on my cock baby” he says, holding your hips, gripping it so hard, it could leave red marks on it and speeding up the movements, slamming you down onto his cock, taking control.
“Ahh–mm yess, yess im coming!!” you throw your head back, a loud, uncontrolled cry escaping your lips as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you breathless and shaking.
Heeseung doesnt stop, he fucks you through it, chasing his orgasm.
“Hee—” you scream so loudly, it was too much, you are overstimulating, you coat his cok, milking it all the way.
“I-i cant..too much–”
“Yess, you can, you can for me baby” his movements becoming faster, more erratic. He's grunting now, the sounds guttural and raw.
He lifts you slightly and then slams you down, the leather of the chair creaking loudly under the strain.
The sound of your pussy engulfing him is a wet, rhythmic squelch, the air being pushed out of your orifice in small, needy puffs.
“Im-im coming baby” he moves faster again and again.
“Im gonna fill you up, you’re gonna take me like a good girl and fill me up right?” he says as he looks at you and captures your lips into kiss again.
You feel him tense, his entire body turning to stone beneath you.
With one final, deep thrust that feels like it reaches your very soul, he lets out a loud, guttural roar, his entire body tensing.
He gives one final, massive thrust, burying himself as deep as possible as you feel the hot, pulsing jets of his cum hitting your cervix, filling you up, the liquid warmth spreading through your internals.
“Fuck–take it baby”
You moan as he fills you up, while he grunts and finally comes undone inside you which felt so so so good.
As the intensity fades, he doesn't move.
He keeps you pressed against him, his heart hammering against your ribs.
You can feel his cock slowly softening inside you, though he remains deep within. A small amount of semen and lubricant leaks from the junction of your bodies, dripping onto the black leather of the chair with a soft patter.
“That was–soo good” you whisper to him.
He smiles, that goddamn smile that melts you right away, probably even your bones.
He pushes a wet hair stand behind your hair as he finally speaks.
“Very good. Are you happy?” he asks and that genuinely made you feel happy that he was asking your opinion.
You nod, you look wrecked so did he, both of you breathing heavily, faces flushed.
“Are you ok?” he asks you sweetly after showing his dark side which you loved and so did you like that gentleness in his which made your heart filp and beat faster.
You blush as you nod and hide your face in the crook of his neck.
“Dont hide baby” he pulls you back cupping your face.
“Mm” you whine sweetly.
He kisses your forehead gently.
"So," he says, a small, tired smile playing on his lips. "I think I lost that match."
You let out a soft laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder.
"Worth it?"
"The best loss of my life," he whispers, kissing your temple.
Heeseug twitches inside you, making you whimper.
“You’re still inside me hee” you say to him as it hurts a little but don't bother but it's still sticky and messy altogether.
But then he shrugs it off as if it's nothing, you frown and ask him “what?” and try to pull away.
He doesn't let you, he slams you back down as you scream and squeal from shock.
“Hee–” then while you are still inside him, he abruptly stands up, while still holding you tightly around your waist and still inside you.
“Ready for round 2 baby” he asks as you widen your eyes in shock while his cock gets stiff all the way till his shaft again.
“Hee~” he crashes his lips on to yours slamming you onto the wall and starts moving inside you.
SUMMARY. Your friends think you’re one bad night away from becoming a cat lady with a wine addiction. Their solution? It’s simple: Wingmate, the new dating app where your friends swipe for you, and set you up on a blind date. At the very least, it’s supposed to guarantee a steamy hookup for the group’s weekend trip—little do you know, they’ve swiped right on none other than Jeon Jungkook, resident fuckboy and your coworker, who’s terminally addicted to two things: bad bitches and situationships.
note. LOL!!!!! before you bring out the glock, this is actually a pre-written fic from the big year of 2024 that never saw the light of day, and i am re-vamping it to fit my current writing style. think of it as a gift… *hides from incoming tomatoes* heh-he, right guys..? no but genuinely this shit is a joke. it’s a—you guessed it—romantic comedy so. idk. have a laughs luv xx ALSOOO as you can see below i’m playing around with a new style for my blog… be patient with me i’m just a girl
bro wtf, you just made cry because of Camp Love. the way you wrote the whole thing, the plot, the pacing and everything hello? it's straight up perfection. the little details too? omfg, they come together so perfectly. Also rhe part where they were about to do it for the first time made me tear up, like actually tear up man. the way niki was so reassuring and gentle was just so sweet that it pains me🙁
oh god I'm so glad you liked my story about Niki, I wanted too much to portray him at first a little as a bad boy but after all we all know that underneath he is a clingy boy too!!
in which jay gives you lessons on how to get (and fuck) jake sim.
synopsis: when your crush on jake sim turns into full-blown panic about your complete lack of experience, your best friend suggests the one person on campus who can help: jay park — the dangerously attractive, notoriously skilled senior with a reputation for being an incredible teacher.
what starts as innocent lessons in flirting, kissing, and confidence quickly spirals into something much hotter… and much more complicated. because the more jay teaches you how to drive jake crazy, the more you realize you only want him touching you.
pairing: jay x fem!reader (x jake)
wc: 34.6k
warnings: smut! light fluff and angst
cw: college au, love triangle, mutual pining, slow burn. themes of virginity, virginity loss, sexual inexperience, anxiety about intimacy. mentions of alcohol. explicit sexual content (kissing, making out, dry humping, handjob, blowjob, p in v, unprotected sex.) heavy flirting and sexual tension, playful teasing, use of petnames, strong language.
a/n: even though today is my birthday, i wanted to be the one giving you a gift. so... yeah, here you go, the longest fic i've ever written. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did while writing! <3
the bass hums low through the crowded living room, a warm pulse that vibrates under your skin as you lean against the kitchen counter, half-hidden behind a cluster of red plastic cups.
the party is the usual saturday chaos — too many people crammed into this frat house off campus, bodies swaying and bumping into each other under the dim string lights someone messily hung on the ceiling. laughter spills over the music, loud, while the faint smell of cheap beer, cheap vodka, and even cheaper perfume hangs thick in the air, mixing with the occasional scent of cigarette smoke drifting in from the backyard. red cups litter every surface, and the floor already feels sticky under your sneakers from whatever got spilled earlier.
but your eyes stay fixed across the room, unable to look anywhere else, like some invisible string keeps pulling your gaze back no matter how much you tell yourself to stop.
jake sim stands near the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard, where the night air probably feels cooler and less suffocating than in here.
one hand is casually tucked into the pocket of his dark jeans, the fabric hugging his legs just right, while the other gestures animatedly as he talks to a girl you vaguely recognize from your literature class — maybe her name is karina or something close. she’s laughing at something he said, head tilted back in that carefree way, exposing the line of her throat, her fingers brushing his arm every few seconds like she can’t help touching him. the way she leans into his space screams interest, flirtiness, and he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he seems to welcome it, that charm radiating off him.
and jake — good god, jake looks perfect. the kind of perfect that makes your chest ache with a sharp, longing twist.
he’s wearing a simple black button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing those toned forearms that flex subtly every time he moves his hand for emphasis. his hair falls softly over his forehead in that effortless, slightly tousled way, like he ran his fingers through it once and left it alone, knowing it would look devastating. the dim lighting catches on the sharp line of his jaw, the warm brown of his eyes, and when he smiles at her, it’s the same warm, dimpled smile he’s given you a dozen times in the hallway or during group project meetings. the kind of smile that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds, crinkling the corners of his eyes and making his whole face light up.
he leans in closer to hear her better over the music, nodding along with genuine interest, his full attention on her like she’s the only person in this entire crowded house.
that’s the thing about jake. when he focuses on someone, it feels like the rest of the world fades into background noise — no distractions, no half-measures. just him, fully present, making you feel seen in a way that’s dangerously addictive.
you swallow hard, fingers tightening around your barely-touched drink until the plastic creaks under your grip. the soda has gone warm and gass-less, but you don’t care. you haven’t taken more than a sip in the last twenty minutes anyway, too busy nursing this quiet ache while pretending to scroll on your phone every few seconds so no one notices you staring.
you’ve been crushing on him for four months now.
four long, torturous months of stolen glances across lecture halls, light flirting in the library where his knee would accidentally brush yours under the table, and random texts about class notes that somehow turned into conversations about favorite movies and late-night snacks and that one time he admitted he secretly loves cheesy romance dramas even though his friends would tease him endlessly for it.
and, the thing is, everybody knows jake doesn’t flirt casually. if he gives a girl that kind of attention — the lingering eye contact, the playful teasing texts at midnight, the way he remembers small details like how you take your coffee — it means he’s interested in something real. dating, commitment, the whole boyfriend package with hand-holding walks across campus and good morning messages that make your heart race.
he’s had two serious girlfriends in the past three years, one lasting several months where you’d see them together looking so effortlessly in sync, the other stretching a whole year where rumors said they were practically inseparable until things eventually ended on good terms. each one looking blissfully happy in his presence, glowing like they’d unlocked some secret level of connection and pleasure that you can only imagine.
and that’s exactly why your stomach twists into tight, anxious knots right now.
you’re a virgin. painfully, embarrassingly inexperienced.
you’ve kissed a couple guys before, sure — awkward fumbling in the dark during high school parties, all sloppy lips and unsure hands that never quite knew where to go or how to make it feel good. but nothing more. no one has ever touched you the way you know jake has touched his exes. you’ve overheard enough whispered conversations in the girls’ bathroom or seen the way those exes still look at him sometimes with fond, satisfied smiles.
jake is the type who probably knows exactly what he’s doing — patient, attentive, skilled in ways that leave girls breathless and glowing, satisfied down to their bones. the kind of guy who takes his time, learns what makes someone moan and shiver, who makes sex feel like an art form instead of a clumsy rush. and the thought of him finding out how clueless you are makes your cheeks burn even in the middle of this loud, overheated party, a flush creeping up your neck that has nothing to do with the alcohol you’re barely drinking.
what if you freeze up when things finally get intimate? what if your hands shake too much to touch him the right way, or you don’t know how to kiss him properly with that slow, deep confidence he probably expects? what if you can’t make him feel good, can’t match the energy of his past girlfriends who clearly knew how to please him back? what if he realizes you’re not on the same level — not experienced, not sexy, not adventurous enough — and the interest in his eyes dims? the flirting would stop. the texts would fade. he’d move on to someone who doesn’t need to google basic techniques in secret or lie awake at night worrying about being a disappointment in bed.
you bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste the faint metallic taste, forcing your gaze away just as the girl leans up to whisper something in jake’s ear. her lips brush close, too close, and he laughs softly — that low, charming sound carrying across the room like a sweet melody cut through the bass. it’s warm and genuine, the kind that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach even from this distance.
you turn toward the counter instead, pretending to refill your cup from the half-empty punch bowl, the liquid sloshing messily as your hand trembles slightly. the ice cubes clink loudly in your cup, a small distraction from the way your heart pounds against your ribs.
around you, the party pulses on without pause. someone bumps your shoulder accidentally, muttering a quick sorry before disappearing back into the crowd. a group of girls nearby bursts into giggles over some inside joke, their voices high and tipsy. the music shifts to a slower track, something with heavy bass and breathy vocals that only makes the atmosphere feel more charged, more intimate despite the chaos. you glance back once more, unable to resist, and catch jake’s eyes flicking in your direction for the briefest second. does he see you? does that dimpled smile flicker with recognition? your breath catches, but then he’s turning back to the girl, saying something that makes her touch his arm again, and the moment slips away like smoke.
you set the cup down untouched, wiping your damp palms on the sides of your jeans. the insecurity sits heavy in your chest, a constant whisper reminding you that jake sim deserves someone who can keep up. someone confident. someone who knows how to flirt without second-guessing every word, how to touch without hesitation, how to make a guy like him lose control in the best ways.
and right now, that someone feels impossibly far from who you are — standing here in the corner, heart racing over nothing more than a smile across a crowded room.
the party swirls around you, alive and indifferent, but your mind stays trapped in that loop of what-ifs and quiet longing, the bass still humming low like a reminder that time is moving forward whether you’re ready or not.
“you’re doing that thing again,” a familiar voice says beside you.
yunjin appears like magic, sliding an arm around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder. her long hair tickles your neck, smelling like coconut shampoo and the strawberry lip gloss she always wears. she’s been your best friend since freshman orientation — loud where you’re quiet, confident where you overthink everything.
“what thing?” you mumble, even though you already know.
“the ‘staring at jake like he hung the moon but also might destroy my entire soul’ thing.” she steals a sip from your cup and grimaces. “ugh, you’re drinking the watered-down shit again. come on, let’s get you something stronger.”
you let her drag you toward the other end of the kitchen, but your mind stays stuck on jake. even through the hazy, crowded warmth of the party, your eyes keep drifting back to where he’s laughing with some guys from the club soccer team. yunjin notices, of course. she always does, her grip tightening on your arm in a silent show of support while she pours something sweet and dangerously strong into a fresh red cup for you.
later that night, after the party finally winds down and the bass stops rattling your teeth, you’re both back in your shared off-campus apartment. the contrast is jarring, the heavy silence of the night settling over everything. the real conversation happens when the rest of the world is asleep. you’re sprawled on your bed in oversized pajamas, hair still slightly damp and curling from a quick shower, while yunjin sits cross-legged on the floor painting her nails a deep, glossy burgundy. the lamp on your nightstand casts a soft, amber glow across the room, and the distant city hums faintly outside the window.
“okay, spill,” she says without looking up, carefully dragging the tiny brush over her thumbnail. “you’ve been weird about jake for weeks. what’s the hold-up? he literally flirted with you for twenty minutes last tuesday in the café. he doesn’t do that unless he’s serious. he was giving you that puppy-dog look the whole time.”
you pull your knees tightly to your chest, hugging them until your knuckles turn white. the weight of the secret has been crushing you for days, and the words finally tumble out before you can stop them.
“i’m scared, yunjin. really scared.”
she glances up instantly, the brush hovering inches above her index finger. the playful tease drops from her face. “scared of what? jake’s a sweetheart. he’s not some asshole who’s going to play games with you.”
“it’s not him. it’s… me.” your voice drops to a pathetic whisper, your cheeks instantly heating up with a fierce, burning blush. you bury your chin in your knees. “i’m a virgin. completely. i’ve barely even done anything beyond clumsy high school kissing. and jake’s had actual girlfriends. serious ones. he knows what he’s doing, yunjin. what if i’m bad at it? what if i disappoint him? he’ll realize i’m not… enough. not experienced enough. not sexy enough. not whatever his exes were.”
yunjin sets the nail polish bottle down on a stray magazine slowly, giving you her full, undivided attention. her expression softens, the fierce protectiveness she always has for you melting into something tender, though there’s still a sharp spark of determination in her eyes.
“babe… first of all, that’s so normal. lots of people are virgins in college, even if they don't advertise it. second, if jake likes you — and he clearly does — he’s not going to expect you to be some kind of porn star on day one. he'd probably think it was sweet, honestly.” she pauses, watching your miserable expression. “but i get it. you want to feel confident. you don't want to be overthinking every single touch when you're finally alone with him. you want to blow his mind when it happens.”
you nod miserably, burying your face completely in your knees for a second, your voice muffled. “i just want to feel like I know what I'm doing. just a little bit.”
yunjin taps her freshly painted fingers on the carpet, her mind visibly whirring. then she smiles — that mischievous, slightly dangerous, scheming smile you know all too well. it’s the smile that usually precedes a terrible, brilliant idea.
“if you really want to impress him… there’s someone who can help.”
you peek at her over the tops of your knees, skeptical. “what do you mean? like a book? a podcast?”
“sunghoon’s friend. jay. jay park.” she says it like the name should mean something immediately, dropping it into the quiet room like a bombshell. “he’s discreet as hell. experienced — like, really experienced. girls talk about him in hushed tones in the sorority houses, trust me. apparently he’s an incredible teacher. no strings attached, just pure skill-building. he’s actually done this before for a couple of people who were in your exact shoes. helps them get confident, learn what they need to know. everything from flirting, body language, touching, all the way down to… you know.”
your eyes widen to the size of saucers. “you’re joking. you want me to ask a random guy to tutor me in sex?”
“dead serious. he’s not a fuckboy in the messy, heartbroken-trail way. more like… selective. efficient.” yunjin leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her tone shifting into something more serious. “and look, here's the thing. jay is known for fucking the girls he hangs out with, yeah. he has that reputation for a reason. but… you don't have to do that. he's not some caveman. jay is actually the best one on this entire campus to go to for advice, even if you never lay a finger on him.”
she waves a hand to emphasize her point, careful not to smudge her polish. “he might make an exception for you. you can literally just have the option of not sleeping with him. you can just go to him, tell him the situation, and let him give you advice. he knows how guys think, he knows what jake’s vibe is since they run in similar circles, and he can literally just talk you through it. teach you how to read the room, how to touch without being awkward. but if you do decide you want hands-on practice? he's the guy. if you approach him the right way and you’re honest, he’ll probably say yes to whatever level you’re comfortable with. he’s good at keeping secrets too. sunghoon swears he's the most trustworthy guy he knows.”
you stare at her, your heart hammering a rapid rhythm against your ribs. jay. you’ve seen him around campus, of course. everyone has. he’s impossible to miss — tall, with that sharp jawline, dark hair usually styled flawlessly, always dressed like he just stepped out of a high-end fashion magazine. he has this quiet, heavy confidence mixed with a sharp, teasing look that makes people nervous to look him in the eye for too long. the mere idea of walking up to him and asking him for… lessons felt completely insane. humiliating. but beneath the embarrassment, a tiny, buried part of you felt a thrill that was absolutely terrifying.
“i couldn’t,” you whisper, your voice shaking slightly. “yunjin, that’s crazy. 'hey jay, can you teach me how to be good in bed so i can go sleep with your acquaintance?' he’ll laugh in my face.”
“is it crazier than stressing yourself sick over whether you’ll be good enough for jake? you're practically giving yourself an ulcer over a guy who hasn't even kissed you yet.” yunjin raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “look, you deserve to feel prepared. empowered. jay’s the guy for that, whether he's just talking to you over a drink or showing you what to do. no emotions, no drama, just practice and advice. think about it. just promise me you'll think about it.”
the conversation lingers long after yunjin finally packs up her nail polish and leaves your room, kissing your forehead goodnight and telling you to text her if you need to spiral more. you lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the name jay repeating in your head like a dare.
you lie there in the dark, the harsh blue glow of your phone illuminating your face in the otherwise pitch-black room. your thumb hovers precariously over the message bar, trembling slightly.
you had found jay’s contact info through a mutual friend's group chat earlier that night, your heart racing so fast you could hear it in your ears the entire time you were saving his number. now, at exactly 2:17 a.m., the sheer absurdity of the hour matches the sheer absurdity of what you're about to do. you type a sentence, delete it. type another, delete that too. you rewrite the message five times, your palms sweating against the glass screen, before you finally force your thumb to stay still and craft something that sounds at least semi-coherent.
you: hi… this is awkward but um. yunjin mentioned you might be able to help with some… lessons? about confidence and stuff. with guys. i’m really new to all of it and there’s this guy i like and i don’t want to mess it up. if you’re not interested that’s totally fine, sorry for bothering you this late.
you hit send.
the instant the little outgoing chime sounds, a wave of pure, instant regret crashes over you. you toss the phone away like it’s physically burning you, letting it land somewhere in the tangled blankets at the foot of your bed. you cover your face with both hands, groaning softly into the quiet room. this is ridiculous. it's humiliating. who even asks for something like this? jay park is going to think you're an absolute freak, or worse, he's going to screenshot it and show sunghoon.
a minute passes. then two. the silence in your room feels heavy, suffocating. you're just about to reach down and turn the phone completely off to save yourself further agony when the mattress vibrates.
buzz.
your heart leaps into your throat. you scramble through the covers, fishing for the device and unlocking it with shaking fingers.
jay: well this is a new way to get my attention. lessons, huh? for a specific guy? bold.
before you can even process the dry, teasing tone of his text, another message bubbles up right underneath it.
jay: meet me tomorrow at the café near the east library. 4pm. we can talk details. don’t overthink it too much, newbie.
your stomach flips hard, dropping into a dizzying freefall. he said yes. kind of. it’s incredibly teasing, dripping with the exact kind of effortless confidence that usually intimidates you, but it’s still a yes. he didn't laugh you off. he didn't tell you to lose his number.
you roll onto your back, dropping the phone onto your chest and staring up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above you. the shadows from the blades cut rhythmic patterns across the ceiling, but they do nothing to soothe your mind, which is currently racing at a thousand miles an hour.
what the hell are you actually doing?
asking jay park — the campus mystery, the guy who walks through hallways like he owns them, the one with that intense, piercing stare that makes people look away first — to teach you how to flirt, how to touch, how to… god, how to do everything. and you're doing it all just so you can feel like you're enough for jake sim. the contrast between the two boys couldn't be wider: jake, with his warm, sweet, golden-retriever energy and easy smiles, and jay, who feels like a sharp knife, dark leather jackets, and expensive cologne.
but underneath the suffocating layers of panic and embarrassment, a tiny, unfamiliar spark begins to take hold. it’s a spark of excitement. of real hope. yunjin was right; you've been putting yourself through misery over your lack of experience. maybe this is exactly what you need to break out of your own head. maybe jay really can turn you into someone confident, someone desirable — someone who won’t freeze up or panic when jake finally makes a real move.
you pull the heavy blanket higher up over your shoulders, curling onto your side as your phone screen finally times out and dims, plunging the room back into total darkness.
tomorrow at 4 p.m. there's no backing out now. you're really doing this.
and as exhaustion finally starts to get to you, a nervous, slightly hysterical laugh escapes your lips into the quiet apartment.
what have you gotten yourself into?
-------
the next afternoon, 4:00 p.m. arrives far too quickly.
the café near the east library is tucked away in a quieter corner of the campus, mostly populated by grad students typing furiously on laptops and the heavy smell of roasted coffee beans. you change your outfit three times before leaving the apartment, finally settling on something casual but not too casual, your hands sweating the entire walk over.
when you push the glass door open, the little bell chiming above you feels like a death threat. you look around the dimly lit space, and there he is.
jay is sitting at a small corner table near the back window, looking entirely too calm and entirely too hot for a thursday afternoon. he’s wearing a simple black sweater, the sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms, and his dark hair is perfectly styled, just like always. he has a half-empty iced americano in front of him, his thumb casually scrolling through his phone. there’s a quiet, effortless aura of arrogance around him, but as he catches movement and looks up, his sharp features soften into a playful, lazy smirk.
“you’re exactly on time,” he says, his voice a low, smooth rumble that instantly makes your stomach do a flip. he slides the empty chair opposite him out with his foot. “sit. you look like you’re about to faint.”
you sink into the chair, gripping your tote bag tightly against your chest like a shield. “hi. thank you for coming.”
“relax, newbie. i don’t bite,” he teases, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. he studies your burning, red face for a second before a soft chuckle escapes him. “you know, you could have just told me the whole story in the text. saved yourself some typing.”
you blink, confused. “what do you mean?”
jay leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a dangerous amount of amusement. “yunjin told sunghoon. sunghoon told me. so, i already know the full context.” his smirk widens, making him look devastatingly handsome. “so you want to learn how to fuck properly for jake sim? bold.”
your entire face explodes in a fierce, blinding heat. you literally feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, and for a terrifying, very long second, you consider hiding under the table or running away as fast as you can. you bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled and laced with pure mortification. “oh my god. i am going to kill yunjin. i am actually going to murder her.”
jay lets out a genuine, low laugh at your reaction, the sound rich and surprisingly warm. “don’t kill her yet. she’s just looking out for you. and honestly? it’s refreshing. most girls try a lot harder to play it cool around me.”
you slowly drop your hands, your cheeks still burning a bright pink. “i don't even know what i'm doing here. this is insane.”
“it’s only insane if you make it insane,” jay says calmly, his playful tone softening just a fraction into something a bit more business-like. he pushes a clean napkin and a pen toward you, though he keeps his eyes on your face. “let’s treat this like an introduction. an assessment. before we can fix anything, i need to know what we’re working with. list all the things you think you’re bad at. everything you're worried about. so i know what to focus on.”
you stare at the blank napkin, swallowing hard. the vulnerability of it feels immense, but you’re already here, and you’re already completely humiliated. you take a deep breath and start listing them off, your voice dropping to a quiet whisper so the barista won’t hear.
“flirting,” you start, counting on your fingers instead of writing it down. “i freeze up. and… kissing. i’ve only ever done clumsy high school kissing, nothing serious. touching… like, knowing where to put my hands without being awkward. sex, obviously, since i’ve never done it. and… just confidence in general. i overthink everything until i ruin the mood.”
jay listens quietly, his sharp eyes tracking the movement of your fingers. he doesn't laugh, and he doesn't tease you this time. he just nods slowly, absorbing the information.
“okay. that’s a solid list,” he says. then, his gaze drops to how tightly you’re still clutching your bag, your knuckles white, your shoulders tense and pulled high. his eyes lift back to yours, perceptive and sharp. “you’re terrified i’m going to try to jump you, aren’t you?”
your breath hitches. you open your mouth to deny it, but the words catch in your throat. you are skeptical about getting physical with him. the idea of practicing on jay park feels like playing with fire, and you’re fully aware you might get burned.
jay sighs softly, leaning back again, his posture completely relaxed to contrast your tension. “look at me.”
you look up, meeting his intense stare.
“yunjin told you i have a reputation, and she’s right. i’m not going to sit here and pretend i’m a saint,” jay says, his tone completely direct, peer-to-peer, without a shred of judgment. “but i don’t do anything without absolute consent. i can see you’re stressed out of your mind right now. so, let’s take the pressure off. we are not getting physical. the ‘lessons’ will be entirely theoretical. just talking, advice, breaking down how guys think, and giving you the blueprint. unless you explicitly ask to change that later down the line, we keep our hands to ourselves. deal?”
the relief that washes over you is so sudden and heavy that your shoulders visibly drop. “deal. thank you. seriously.”
“don’t thank me yet, newbie. you’re still going to have to work on that confidence,” jay says, that familiar, teasing grin creeping back onto his face. he stands up, grabbing his iced coffee and sliding his phone into his pocket. “we’re done for today. meet me at my dorm tomorrow afternoon. third floor of the west quad, room 314. we’ll start the actual work then.”
he gives you one last, lingering look — a mix of amusement and something else you can’t quite read — before turning and walking out of the café, leaving you alone at the table with a racing heart and the sudden realization that you’re actually going through with this.
-------
the next afternoon, you find yourself standing outside room 314 in the west quad, your heart doing gymnastics against your ribs. you take three deep, stabilizing breaths before finally raising a shaking hand to knock.
the door swings open almost immediately, and jay stands there looking effortlessly put-together in a gray hoodie and sweatpants. his hair is slightly messy today, falling over his forehead, which somehow makes him look even more intimidatingly handsome.
“you’re on time again. i like that,” he says, stepping back to let you in.
his dorm is surprisingly clean and smells faintly of sandalwood and expensive laundry detergent. there’s a vinyl player in the corner, a desk stacked with textbooks, and a neatly made bed. jay walks over to his desk chair, spins it around to face the bed, and motions for you to sit on the mattress.
“alright, newbie. welcome to lesson one,” jay says, his tone shifting into something surprisingly focused. he sits down, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. “today is all about the fundamentals. eye contact, body language, and light teasing. if you can't master the tension before you even touch a guy, everything else falls flat. so, we start here.”
you nod, swallowing hard, trying to look like a good student. “okay. what do i do?”
“first thing: eye contact,” jay says, leaning forward slightly. his dark eyes lock onto yours, intense and unblinking. “when you’re talking to jake, you have a habit of looking down at your shoes or glancing away every three seconds. it makes you look like you’re guilty of a crime. i want you to hold my gaze. don’t look away until i do.”
you brace yourself and look straight into his eyes. one second passes. then two. the sheer intensity of his stare feels like a physical weight in the room. by second four, your heart is pounding, your throat feels dry, and your eyes instinctively dart toward the window.
jay lets out a soft, amused scoff. “four seconds. tragic. again.”
you lock eyes with him again, biting the inside of your cheek. this time, you manage to hold it, but you can feel your face flushing a bright, furious pink.
jay watches the blush spread across your cheeks, a slow, lazy half-smile spreading across his face. he’s clearly enjoying how easily he can fluster you, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “you’re cute when you’re panicking, you know that? but you need to relax your shoulders. you look like a statue.”
“it’s hard,” you complain, your voice a little high. “you’re staring at me like a hawk.”
“jake is going to stare at you too, newbie. you need to get used to it,” jay teases, leaning back in his chair with a playful grin. “alright, let’s move on to flirting and light teasing. pretend i’m jake. we’re at a party, i just walked up to you, and i say, ‘hey, i like your outfit.’ how do you respond?”
you clear your throat, trying to channel every romantic comedy you’ve ever watched. you try to mimic the slow, confident smirk jay always uses, but your lips twitch awkwardly.
“oh, this old thing?” you say, your voice dripping with a completely unnatural, overly dramatic theatricality. you even throw in a bizarre little hair flip that feels entirely forced. “thanks. i guess you don’t look too bad yourself.”
the room goes completely silent.
jay just stares at you for three long seconds, his expression an unbelievable mix of utter disbelief and pure, unadulterated amusement. then, he buries his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as a deep, breathless laugh escapes him.
“oh my god,” jay groans, looking up at you with tears of laughter in his eyes. “that was… easily the worst thing i have ever heard in my entire life.”
“hey!” you yell, grabbing a stray pillow from his bed and throwing it at his chest. your face is practically purple with embarrassment. “i told you i was bad at this!”
jay catches the pillow effortlessly, still laughing. “bad? newbie, that wasn’t just bad. that was completely goofy. you sounded like a cartoon villain trying to seduce a detective. and what was that hair flip? did you have a muscle spasm?”
“stop laughing at me!” you hide your face in your hands, completely mortified. “this was a mistake. i’m leaving.”
“no, stay, sit down,” jay says, his laughter finally dying down into a wide, bright grin. he tosses the pillow back onto the bed and leans in closer, his voice dropping into a softer, playful murmur. “i'm sorry, i shouldn't laugh. it was honestly kind of endearing. but we definitely have our work cut out for us.”
you peek through your fingers at him, pouty and defensive. “fine. how am i supposed to say it, mr. expert?”
jay shifts in his chair, his entire demeanor changing in a split second. the laughter vanishes, replaced by a smooth, magnetic confidence that makes your breath hitch. he looks at you, his eyes dropping to your lips for a microsecond before rising back to your eyes. a small, knowing grin plays at the corner of his mouth.
“if i say ‘i like your outfit,’ you don’t act like a theater kid,” jay says softly, his voice a low, teasing purr that makes goosebumps break out on your arms. “you look him right in the eye, hold it for a second, smile just a little bit, and say… ‘thanks. i wore it hoping you’d notice.’”
you stare at him, your mouth slightly open, completely paralyzed by how smoothly he delivered the line. the air in the dorm suddenly feels incredibly thick, the playful atmosphere from a second ago completely evaporating into something heavy and charged.
jay holds your gaze for a beat longer, making sure the lesson lands, before breaking the tension with a quiet chuckle. he taps his fingers against his knee, leaning back in his chair. “see the difference? subtle. playful. now, let’s try it again. and this time, keep your hair exactly where it is.”
you swallow the lump in your throat, trying desperately to shake off the weird shiver that just ran down your spine. he’s just demonstrating, you remind yourself. he does this for fun.
“okay,” you mutter, pulling your knees up to your chest on his bed and trying to center yourself. “subtle. no theater-kid energy. got it.”
“alright. take two,” jay says, his expression shifting back into that smooth, predatory calm. he locks his eyes onto yours. “hey. i like your outfit.”
you force yourself not to look away. you look at his dark eyes, then let your gaze drop slightly to his lips — just like he did — before looking back up. you attempt a small, knowing smile, though your heart is hammering against your ribs.
“thanks,” you say, your voice a little softer than usual, a little more genuine. “i wore it hoping you’d notice.”
jay doesn't laugh this time. he stays perfectly still, his eyes tracking the slight tremor in your bottom lip. for a second, his grin falters, replaced by a sharp, intense curiosity that makes your stomach do a violent flip. then, the lazy crooked smile creeps back onto his face, and he nods approvingly.
“better,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “way better. see? you don’t need to put on a performance. guys like jake — and guys like me — we can tell when a girl is trying too hard. authenticity is hotter than any script you could write. you just have to let yourself feel the tension instead of running away from it.”
the rest of the hour goes by in a blur of intense eye contact and brutal, playful critiques. jay puts you through a dozen different scenarios. he teaches you how to respond to a compliment without deflecting it, how to use a quiet pause in conversation to your advantage, and how a simple change in posture can make you look completely magnetic.
he doesn't miss a single chance to tease you, though. every time you stumble over your words or give a goofy response, he boops your nose with his pen or groans dramatically into his hands. but by the time the alarm on his phone buzzes to signal the end of the hour, you realize something shocking: you aren’t so uncomfortable anymore. you’re actually laughing with him.
“alright, session one complete,” jay says, standing up and stretching his arms over his head, pulling his hoodie up just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his toned stomach. you quickly look away, your face heating up again. he catches you, of course, and just smirks. “homework for tonight: practice looking people in the eye. the cashier at the dining hall, your professors, yunjin. don’t look down.”
“fine, professor park,” you roll your eyes, sliding off his bed and grabbing your bag. “thanks. for not totally giving up on me.”
“i don't give up on my projects, newbie,” he says, walking you to the door. he opens it, leaning against the frame and looking down at you with a soft, surprisingly warm expression. “see you in two days. don't overthink it.”
“i'll try,” you murmur, giving him a small wave before turning and walking down the hallway.
the walk back to your apartment is a long one, and the cool evening air does nothing to calm the frantic state of your brain. you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself, your sneakers clicking rhythmically against the pavement as you re-read every single moment of the last hour in your head.
your mind is a chaotic mess of conflicting thoughts.
first of all, jay was right. the theoretical approach did help. just understanding the mechanics of how to hold a gaze and how to drop your voice made you feel like a secret weapon was being built inside you. you find yourself imagining using those exact tricks on jake next tuesday at the café. you imagine looking jake in the eye, holding his gaze, and saying something subtle and confident. the thought makes your stomach flutter with a nervous, happy anticipation. it’s exactly what you wanted.
but as you cross the street near the campus green, another thought creeps in, unbidden and entirely unwelcome.
jay.
you pull a breath into your lungs, a strange, tight feeling in your chest. you had gone into that room completely terrified of him, expecting a cold, arrogant guy who would judge your total lack of experience. instead, he had been… patient. incredibly observant. and so frustratingly attractive that it felt like a safety hazard.
when he had delivered that line — i wore it hoping you’d notice — the look in his eyes hadn't felt like a lesson at all. it had felt entirely too real. the way his voice had dropped, the way he had effortlessly controlled the energy in the room… it was terrifying how easily he could manipulate your feelings with just a shift in his posture.
he’s a professional, you remind yourself sternly, walking up the steps to your apartment building. he has a reputation for a reason. he’s doing this to help you with jake. do not confuse the lines.
yet, as you unlock your front door and hear yunjin yelling something from the kitchen, you can’t shake the memory of jay’s lazy, knowing smirk from your mind. you had spent weeks stressing yourself sick over jake sim, but as you step into your apartment, you realize with a sudden wave of panic that learning how to play the game with jay park might be a hundred times more dangerous.
-------
two days later, you find yourself back outside room 314. you don't even need to take three deep breaths this time — only two.
when jay opens the door, he’s wearing a faded vintage band tee and dark jeans, looking like he just rolled out of bed but somehow still managed to look effortlessly attractive. he takes one look at your face, steps back to let you in, and closes the door with a quiet click.
“welcome back, newbie,” he says, a lazy grin already spreading across his face. “did you do your homework? did you look the dining hall lady in the eye, or did you stare at your tater tots again?”
“i looked her straight in the eye,” you say proudly, tossing your tote bag onto his desk chair. “she looked confused, but i didn’t look down once.”
“proud of you,” jay chuckles, walking over to his mini-fridge to grab a bottle of water. he takes a sip before turning his full attention to you, his eyes sweeping over your outfit before locking onto yours. “alright, today is lesson two. we’re graduating from eye contact. today is all about compliments, voice tone, and what i like to call ‘innocent’ touching. leaning in, brushing an arm, breaking the physical barrier without making it a big deal. ready?”
you nod, though your stomach does a familiar little nervous flip. “ready.”
“good. sit on the bed,” jay commands smoothly, pulling his desk chair over so he’s sitting directly across from you again, only this time, he hitches the chair closer. his knees are barely a few inches from yours. the proximity alone makes the air feel instantly thick. “let’s start with compliments and tone. a lot of girls think giving a compliment means squealing and saying ‘oh my god your hair looks so good today!’ that’s friend-zone energy. jake doesn't need another cheerleader. he needs to know you see him as a man. understand?”
“yeah,” you murmur, swallowing hard.
“so, voice tone is everything. drop your volume. speak from your chest, not your throat. make him lean in to hear you,” jay instructs, his own voice dropping into that low, gravelly pitch that makes your ears tingle. “let’s try it. i walk up to you. i’m jake. i’m wearing a nice cologne. compliment me.”
you take a second to clear your throat, trying to channel your inner siren. you lean forward slightly, look him in the eye, and speak in what you think is a sultry whisper. “wow, jay. you smell really… nice. like a tree.”
jay blinks. the room is dead silent for three seconds.
then, he lets out a sharp, breathless laugh, burying his face in his hands. “like a tree? like a tree? oh my god, newbie, please tell me you’re joking.”
“it’s sandalwood!” you protest, your face instantly turning a furious shade of crimson as you grab his pillow again, though this time he anticipates it and firmly plants a hand on it before you can throw it. “you literally smell like sandalwood and cedar! that’s a tree!”
“you sound like a park ranger,” jay groans, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he pulls the pillow out of your hands. “and your voice went all breathy and weird at the end, like you were running out of oxygen. i said drop your pitch, not sound like you have asthma.”
“i told you i’m bad at this!” you whine, burying your burning face in your hands. “this is why i’m a virgin, jay. i have negative game.”
“hey, look at me,” jay says, his voice softening, though the vibrant amusement is still dancing in his dark eyes. he gently reaches out and taps your wrist until you drop your hands from your face. “it’s fine. that’s why you’re here. let’s try it again, but don’t think about the specific words. don’t describe the scent. just focus on how it makes you feel. and keep the voice steady. smooth. try it.”
you take a deep breath, looking into his eyes. you wait a beat, letting the silence stretch just like he taught you in lesson one. then, keeping your voice low and stable, you say, “you smell really good today. it’s distracting.”
jay pauses. his smirk falters for a fraction of a second, his eyes darkening just a tiny bit as he processes the delivery. a slow, appreciative smile replaces his laughter. “there we go. that’s the tone. smooth, grounded, a little bit dangerous. jake would literally lose his mind if you said that to him.”
a rush of pride swells in your chest. you actually did it.
“alright, now let’s add the physical element,” jay says, leaning back slightly but keeping his eyes locked onto yours. “innocent touching is all about making it look accidental. it has to look accidental, but feel intentional. a brush of the shoulder when you laugh, a lingering touch on the arm when you’re emphasizing a point. it makes the moments stick, you know? let’s combine them. give me that same compliment, but this time, i want you to break the physical barrier.”
your heart restarts its frantic rhythm. touching him wasn’t part of the original plan, but this is entirely safe — just an arm, just a shoulder. theoretical practice in action.
“okay,” you whisper.
you look at him. you focus on your breathing, trying to get rid of the tension in your shoulders. you lean in slightly, your eyes dropping to his lips before rising back to his eyes. you reach your hand out, your fingers trembling just a fraction, and gently brush your fingertips against his forearm, letting them linger on the soft fabric of his sleeve.
“you smell really good today,” you say softly, your voice perfectly steady this time. “it’s distracting.”
you expect jay to pull back, or to laugh, or to give you another critique. instead, jay doesn't even flinch. he doesn't get nervous at all; if anything, the touch seems to ground him. his eyes track your hand on his arm, and then slowly, deliberately, he tilts his head, a devastatingly handsome, wicked grin pulling at his lips.
he doesn't break your touch. instead, he leans forward, bringing his face so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek.
“is it?” jay murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, completely turning the tables on you. “if you think my cologne is distracting, newbie… you’re never going to survive the rest of these lessons.”
your breath hitches completely. your heart thumps so hard against your ribs you’re certain he can hear it. he’s completely unbothered, completely in control, flirting back with an effortless grace that leaves you completely breathless.
“you… you cheated,” you squeak out, frantically pulling your hand back and sitting straight up, your face hot enough to fry an egg. “you’re not supposed to flirt back! you’re supposed to be jake!”
jay lets out a low, rich chuckle, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, looking immensely pleased with himself. “jake is going to flirt back, newbie. if a girl touched him like that and gave him that compliment, he wouldn't just sit there like a log. he’s going to lean in. you need to learn how to handle the counter-attack.”
you pout, crossing your arms defensively. “you’re just showing off.”
“maybe a little,” he admits, his eyes crinkling with that playful, arrogant charm. “but you did great. seriously. the touch was perfect — light, lingering, just enough to make a guy notice. let’s try another one. this time, let’s practice the ‘laugh and lean.’ when i say something funny, you lean in, laugh naturally, and let your shoulder brush mine. let’s see if you can handle it without panicking.”
for the next hour, the room feels like a battlefield of tension and laughter. you practice over and over again. you try leaning in to whisper something “secretive” in his ear, your breath brushing against his neck, which makes jay’s jaw tighten for a brief second before he recovers with a smooth, teasing remark. you practice brushing a stray piece of lint off his shoulder, letting your fingers drag slowly down his chest.
every time you do it well, jay praises you, his voice warm and encouraging, but he never lets you get too comfortable. he always pushes back — catching your wrist gently, leaning into your space, or dropping a low, dangerous compliment right back to test your boundaries. he doesn't get flustered, but you notice that as the lesson goes on, his jokes get a little quieter, his smirks a little softer, and his dark eyes stay locked onto yours with an intensity that makes it harder and harder to remember that this is just a game.
“alright,” jay finally says, his voice a bit rough as he checks his phone. “that’s enough torturing you for one day.”
you sink back against his pillows, completely exhausted but tingling with a weird, electric energy. “i think i actually did okay today.”
“you did better than okay,” jay says, standing up and looking down at you. he reaches out, and for a second, you think he’s going to tease you again, but instead, he gently runs his thumb over the side of your cheek, a surprisingly tender gesture that makes your heart stop. “you’re a quick learner, newbie. jake won’t know what hit him.”
he pulls his hand back smoothly, leaving your skin tingling where his thumb had just been. he walks to the door, opening it with that signature, lazy smirk.
“go home, get some rest. next lesson, we’re talking about kissing mechanics. try not to lose sleep over it.”
you scramble off the bed, grabbing your bag and practically running past him into the hallway, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm as his quiet laughter follows you down the corridor.
the next monday, you’re sitting in the back row of your lecture hall, pretending to take notes on a PowerPoint about microeconomics. in reality, you’ve just been drawing mindless spirals in the margin of your notebook, your brain completely occupied by the memory of jay’s thumb brushing against your cheek.
“next lesson, we’re talking about kissing mechanics.”
the memory of his low, rough voice echoes in your head, making you shiver despite the aggressive air conditioning in the auditorium.
suddenly, a sharp elbow digs into your ribs.
“you’re doing a new thing,” yunjin whispers loudly, leaning over the shared desk. she has her laptop open, but instead of notes, she has a blank word document filled with a massive, stylized question mark. “the ‘staring into the abyss like you’re trying to decode the matrix’ thing. spill. now.”
“shh,” you hiss, keeping your eyes glued to the professor. “we’re in the middle of class.”
“the professor is seventy-five and doesn’t have his hearing aids turned up, babe. talk,” yunjin demands, sliding her chair a microscopic inch closer to yours. her eyes narrow, her strawberry lip gloss catching the fluorescent lights as she tilts her head. “it’s been days. you’ve been acting weirdly quiet, you didn’t spiral once this weekend, and you’ve been practicing weirdly intense eye contact with the barista at the campus cafe. which means… the lessons started. how is jay park?”
your face immediately flares up, the heat rising rapidly from your neck to your cheeks. you grab your highlighter and aggressively color over a random definition on your paper. “it’s fine. it’s going fine.”
“‘it’s fine’ does not make a girl turn the color of a fire hydrant,” yunjin points out, a massive, predatory grin spreading across her face. she leans in so close her coconut-scented hair brushes your shoulder. “oh my god. did you guys do it? did he break his rule? did you break the no-fucking clause already? details, give me details!”
“no! oh my god, no!” you whisper-yell, frantically looking around to see if any of the athletes in the row ahead of you heard. luckily, they’re all asleep. you drop your voice to a desperate, tiny whisper. “we didn’t do anything. i told you, it’s completely theoretical. he promised.”
“okay, okay, keeping it professional. i respect it,” yunjin says, waving a dismissive hand, though her eyes are still dancing with intense curiosity. “so what exactly happens in a ‘theoretical’ sex lesson with jay park? does he use a whiteboard? powerpoint slides?”
“no,” you mumble, hiding the lower half of your face behind your hand. “he… we just sit in his dorm. he makes me practice scenarios. the first lesson was just eye contact and light teasing. he basically told me i have the flirting skills of a cartoon villain.”
yunjin bursts out into a short, choked laugh, quickly covering her mouth with her sleeve when the professor coughs. “i mean, he’s not wrong, babe. remember freshman year when you tried to wink at that guy on the club team and looked like you were having a neurological event?”
“i’m better now!” you defend yourself, your voice tight. “jay fixed it. well, he’s fixing it. we had lesson two a couple days ago.”
yunjin leans in even closer, her notebook completely forgotten. “and? what was lesson two?”
“compliments. voice tone. and… innocent touching,” you whisper, your chest tightening just thinking about it. “like, leaning in and brushing his arm. or laughing and letting our shoulders touch.”
yunjin’s jaw literally drops. she stares at you, her eyes wide. “wait. you touched jay park? the guy who usually looks like he’ll have you legally removed from his presence if you breathe his oxygen? how did he react? did he flinch?”
“no, that’s the thing,” you groan, burying your face in your notebook for a second before looking back at her miserably. “he didn't flinch at all. yunjin, he’s completely immune to me. when i gave him the compliment and touched his arm, i thought i did a really good job. i dropped my voice, i held his gaze, all of it. but then he just… he didn't even blink. he just leaned all the way into my face and flirted back. he said something like, ‘if you think my cologne is distracting, newbie, you’re never going to survive the rest of these lessons.’”
yunjin lets out a low, silent gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. “oh my god. newbie? he calls you newbie? that is so disgustingly hot, i think i’m going to throw up.”
“it’s not hot, it’s terrifying!” you whined, chewing on the cap of your pen. “he is so effortlessly in control of the room. every time i think i’m getting the hang of it, he just raises the stakes to test if i’ll panic. he spent the whole hour praising me when i did it right, but then he'd immediately counter-attack to show me how a guy would react. by the end of it, my heart was beating so hard i thought i was going to pass out.”
yunjin studies your face, her playful demeanor shifting into something a bit more analytical, a small, knowing grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “and what about jake? are you thinking about jake when you’re doing all this?”
the question catches you completely off guard. you pause, your pen hovering over the paper.
“i… yeah,” you say, though the answer feels a little delayed, a little less certain than it should be. “of course i am. the whole point of this is so i don’t ruin things with jake. i keep imagining using the tricks on him.”
“right. of course,” yunjin says softly, though the look she gives you is incredibly perceptive. she taps her chin. “so, what’s next on the syllabus, student of the year?”
you swallow hard, the bell suddenly ringing to signal the end of the lecture. you pack your laptop into your bag with slightly trembling hands, refusing to look yunjin in the eye as you mutter the final detail.
“kissing mechanics. we’re doing kissing next.”
yunjin pauses mid-stride as you both walk out into the crowded hallway, a massive, thrilled grin spreading across her face. “oh, babe. you are playing with actual fireworks. good luck surviving that one.”
-------
the next afternoon, you find yourself walking back up the stairs of the west quad. your nerves are completely fried, mostly because yunjin’s warning about "playing with fireworks" has been looping in your brain for the last twenty-four hours. kissing mechanics. the words alone make your pulse skyrocket.
when jay opens the door to room 314, he’s wearing a fitted black t-shirt and charcoal grey cargo pants. he looks you up and down, a faint, amused smile lingering on his lips. "come on in, newbie."
you step into the familiar, sandalwood-scented space and immediately drop your bag by his desk, hopping onto the edge of his bed. before he can even sit down in his usual chair, the words start spilling out of your mouth in an anxious rush.
"okay, so something happened," you blurts out, waving your hands around. "jake came up to me yesterday at the student union. he was wearing his soccer jersey and he literally leaned against my locker and told me my hair looked pretty."
jay pauses, capping his water bottle and looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "and? did you use the eye contact?"
"yes! i held his gaze for like, five whole seconds," you say proudly, leaning forward. "and then i tried to do the subtle, playful voice thing you taught me. i looked at his jersey and said, 'thanks, you don't look too bad yourself.' but jay, the second the words left my mouth, i panicked. i got so incredibly awkward. i think my shoulders went up to my ears, and i literally backed into the locker door so hard it made a loud clanging sound."
jay stares at you for a beat, and then he breaks. he covers his mouth with his hand, his shoulders shaking as a deep, breathless laugh escapes him. "you backed into a locker? newbie, please tell me you didn't."
"i did!" you groan, burying your face in his pillows. "it was terrible. but… the weird part is, it might not have ruined everything? he’s been texting me literally all day today. look."
you scramble to pull out your phone, unlocking it and flashing the screen at him. there’s a string of text messages from jake, filled with emojis and casual questions about your week.
jay steps closer, leaning down slightly to look at the screen. his eyes scan the notifications, and a low, thoughtful hum hums in his throat. he straightens back up, crossing his arms over his chest, his playful smirk turning into a highly analytical expression.
"okay, first of all, the text volume is good. he's definitely hooked," jay says, tilting his head. "but based on your little locker incident, i'm officially changing the syllabus for today."
you peek up from the pillow. "wait, what? aren't we doing kissing mechanics today?"
"absolutely not," jay says smoothly, a wicked, completely teasing grin spreading across his sharp features. "no offense, newbie, but if you're still crashing into structural steel because a guy complimented your hair, you are legally not ready for the kissing lesson. you'd probably faint on him."
"hey!" you protest, sitting straight up and kicking your legs out, though you can't help the blush spreading across your face. "i was just caught off guard!"
"exactly. which is why we need to build your confidence up through texts and pictures first," jay says, walking over to his closet and leaning his shoulder against the frame. "given how much he's texting you right now, it’s the perfect opportunity. so, lesson three: how to dress sexier, body language upkeep, and sending suggestive texts and photos."
your jaw drops. "photos? like… selfies?"
"relax, i don't mean nudes," jay scoffs playfully, rolling his eyes. "i mean the kind of photos that make a guy stare at his phone for ten minutes straight. subtle hints. showing off your collarbone, an arched back, a casual half-smile. the kind of stuff that says 'i'm not trying,' even though you absolutely are."
he walks over to your bag and picks it up, tossing it onto the bed next to you. "dump it out. let’s see what clothes you brought today, and then we're going to fix your text game."
for the next hour, jay takes his role entirely too seriously. he makes you stand up to practice your posture — forcing your shoulders down, teaching you how to subtly arch your back when you're sitting so your silhouette looks sharper, and showing you how to cross your legs to elongate your frame.
then comes the text interrogation. he sits right next to you on the bed, his shoulder pressing against yours, looking over your screen as you type.
"no, delete that exclamation point. it makes you sound too eager," jay commands, his thumb reaching over to tap your screen. "type this instead: 'busy right now, but i might have time for you later.' it creates mystery. it makes him want to compete for your attention."
"isn't that a little mean?" you ask, looking up at him.
"it's not mean, it's a hook," jay murmurs, his dark eyes fixed on yours from mere inches away. "trust me. watch how fast he replies."
you hit send. less than thirty seconds later, jake replies: 'what are you up to? let me know when you're free x'.
you stare at the screen in absolute shock. "oh my god. you're a wizard."
"i'm a guy. i know how our brains work," jay smirks, entirely pleased with himself. "now, let's seal the deal. we're sending a photo. stand up."
you get up, your heart doing a nervous dance as jay picks up your phone. he walks you over to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of his door, positioning you just right where the warm afternoon light hits your face.
"your sweater is too high. pull it slightly off one shoulder," jay instructs, his voice dropping into that focused, professional tone.
you hesitantly tug the knit fabric down, exposing your collarbone. jay steps behind you, looking at your reflection in the mirror. he frowns slightly, stepping closer until his chest is almost pressed against your back. he reaches out, his warm, large hands gently gripping your waist to adjust your posture, tilting your hips just a fraction.
"don't look directly at the camera like a deer in headlights," jay murmurs near your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "look slightly down, tilt your chin up. think about something that makes you feel good."
your whole body feels like it's on fire from his touch. your reflection in the mirror shows your cheeks flushed a deep pink, your eyes dark and wide. jay raises your phone, snapping a few photos. he pulls away smoothly, scrolling through the gallery before handing the phone back to you.
you look at the screen and literally gasp. the photo doesn't even look like you. it looks incredibly soft, effortless, and undeniably sexy. your collarbone stands out, your lips are slightly parted, and the flush on your cheeks looks intentional.
"send him that one," jay says, leaning back against his desk and crossing his arms, watching your reaction with an intensely satisfied smirk. "and don't add a caption. just let him suffer."
you hit send, your hands shaking. almost instantly, the typing bubbles appear from jake's contact.
they bounce up and down, then disappear, then start up again. jake is clearly panicking on the other end, deleting and rewriting his response just like you had done nights ago.
jay steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to look down at the screen. his chest gently brushes your back, the warm, clean scent of his sandalwood cologne enveloping you completely. “look at that,” he murmurs, his voice a low, vibrating rumble right next to your ear. “he’s losing his mind. i told you.”
finally, the text comes through.
jake: oh wow. you look really pretty. where are you?
you automatically start typing a reply, your fingers flying across the keyboard. i’m just hanging out at a friend’s dorm.
“stop, stop, stop,” jay says, his hand suddenly coming down over yours to physically halt your thumbs. his palms are warm and broad, completely wrapping around your hands. a jolt of electricity zaps straight up your arms. he doesn't pull away immediately; instead, he slowly guides your hands down, forcing you to lower the phone. “what did i say about theater-kid energy? you’re giving away too much information, newbie. you’re killing the mystery.”
“but he asked where i am!” you protest, looking up at him over your shoulder. your faces are incredibly close, so close you can count the dark lashes framing his piercing eyes.
jay just smiles, that slow, devastatingly confident grin that makes him look entirely too in control. he reaches out and smoothly takes the phone right out of your fingers. “he doesn’t get to know where you are. he didn't earn that yet. right now, he’s sitting in his room staring at a photo of your bare shoulder. we need to lean into that.”
he taps the screen, typing out a message with one hand while keeping his eyes locked on yours. “if he asks where you are, you don’t give him a location. you give him a tease.”
he turns the phone around to show you what he wrote.
you: somewhere you’re not. 😉
your jaw drops. “jay! that is so forward! i can't say that!”
“you didn't say it, i did. now watch,” he says, tapping send before you can grab the device back.
you watch the screen in an agony of suspense. the response from jake is almost instantaneous this time.
jake: that’s not fair. maybe i want to be there.
your breath hitches. jake has never talked to you like this before. usually, his texts are sweet, casual, and safe. jay’s little formula is completely shifting the dynamic, turning a simple crush into a high-stakes game of cat and mouse.
“see?” jay says, his tone dripping with playful smugness as he slides the phone back into your hands. he leans his hip against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms and looking down at you. “he’s chasing now. when a guy says ‘maybe i want to be there,’ he’s testing the waters. he wants to see if the door is open. so, what do you do?”
“i… i tell him he can come over?” you guess, completely out of your depth.
jay groans, tossing his head back dramatically. “no! god, newbie, you’re trying to speed-run this. if you invite him over now, you’re giving up all your power. you have to make him work for it. keep him on his toes.”
he steps back into your personal space, the playful arrogance in his eyes shifting into something focused and instructional. he grabs your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up so you’re forced to look directly into his dark eyes.
“this is the suggestive texting masterclass,” jay explains softly, his thumb lightly brushing the sensitive skin of your jawline. “you always want to imply a double meaning. you want him to read your texts and wonder if you’re being totally innocent or incredibly dirty. it keeps his mind completely occupied with thoughts of you.”
he lets go of your chin, but the ghost of his touch leaves a burning trail on your skin. he points at your phone. “type this: ‘i don’t know, jake. i’m kind of a handful. not sure you could handle it.’”
your fingers are practically sweating as you type out the words exactly as he dictated. you hit send.
the typing bubbles appear immediately.
jake: try me. i’m pretty good at handling things.
you let out a soft, choked gasp, completely floored by the sheer boldness of jake's reply. your face is burning hot, your heart hammering against your ribs. you look up at jay, wide-eyed and completely breathless. “oh my god. it worked. it actually worked.”
jay doesn't look surprised at all. if anything, he’s studying your reaction with an intense, quiet curiosity. his eyes drop to your flushed cheeks, then down to your parted lips, before slowly rising back to meet your gaze. the playful, teasing smirk slowly fades from his face, replaced by a heavy, unreadable expression.
“of course it worked,” jay murmurs, his voice suddenly dropping into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight through your chest. he steps a fraction closer, completely erasing the distance between you until your clothes are almost brushing. “you’re a beautiful girl, newbie. when you actually give a guy a green light, he’s going to run straight through it.”
the air in the dorm room becomes completely stagnant, thick with a sudden, suffocating wave of tension. jay is looking at you with an intensity that has absolutely nothing to do with jake sim. his gaze feels heavy, physical, like a hand tracing the curve of your neck. for a terrifying, thrilling second, you forget all about your phone, all about jake’s texts, and all about the rules of these lessons.
you stare up at him, your heart in your throat, completely paralyzed by how easily he can shift the gravity in the room.
jay holds your gaze for one more lingering, breathless second. then, just as quickly as it appeared, the heavy tension snaps. a lazy, familiar smirk creeps back onto his sharp features, and he steps back, breaking the spell.
“alright, lock your phone,” jay says, tapping the top of your head playfully. “that’s enough digital damage for today. leave him on read for a few hours. let him stew in his own thoughts while he waits for you to reply.”
you quickly lock your screen, nodding dumbly as you try to force your lungs to remember how to breathe normally.
“lesson three concluded,” jay says, walking over to the door and swinging it open, looking entirely unbothered by the emotional hurricane he just caused in your chest. he gives you a sharp, teasing wink. “next time, newbie… we’re finally doing kissing mechanics. don’t forget to practice your posture before then.”
-------
four days pass, and your life feels like it has been completely split into two entirely different realities.
on one side of the screen, there’s the jake sim reality. and to your absolute shock, jay’s blueprint is working flawlessly. jake has been pursuing you with a fervor that leaves you dizzy. when you see him on campus now, he doesn't just give you a sweet, friendly wave from across the quad. he actively detours to walk with you to class. when you talk, his eyes don't wander; they stay locked onto your face, and he looks at you with this intense, focused hunger that makes your stomach do backflips.
last night, he texted you out of nowhere at 11:00 p.m. just to say he saw a sweater in a store window that reminded him of the photo you sent, adding a little tongue-in-cheek comment about how he's still waiting to find out where "somewhere you're not" is.
it's everything you wanted. you're finally getting the boy you’ve been pining over since freshman orientation. you should be ecstatic. you should be texting yunjin in a flurry of capital letters and celebratory emojis.
but instead, you find yourself staring at your bedroom ceiling in the dead of night, feeling completely untethered.
the truth is a terrifying, heavy weight in your chest, and admitting it to yourself feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. because every time jake texts you, a tiny, dark voice in the back of your mind whispers that it isn’t actually your game he’s falling for. it’s jay’s. you’re just the actress reciting lines written by a boy who understands the mechanics of desire like the back of his hand.
and then there's the next lesson.
kissing mechanics.
your stomach drops into a cold abyss every time you think about it. you’re terrified. actual, physical kissing is a universe away from just holding eye contact or letting your shoulders brush during a laugh. it means jay’s hands on you. it means his face inches from yours, his lips touching yours, his sharp jawline, his heavy, low breathing. even if it’s entirely "theoretical" — even if he's just using his fingers to map out where to press or demonstrating the pacing on a pillow or explaining the biology of how a guy reacts — the mere thought of being that close to him makes your chest tighten until it hurts.
but beneath the suffocating layers of panic, there is an even darker, more humiliating truth that you barely have the courage to acknowledge in the privacy of your own head.
you were disappointed.
when you walked into room 314 a few days ago, fully braced for the kissing lesson, your heart had been pounding because you thought you were finally going to cross that terrifying physical threshold with him. and when jay had laughed, called you a newbie, and casually pushed the lesson back because you "weren't ready," a sudden, sharp pang of rejection had sliced right through you.
you had spent the rest of that afternoon acting annoyed and pouty, but deep down, your skin had been practically begging for the exact thing you claimed to be afraid of. you had wanted him to look at you and decide you were ready. you had wanted to know what his lips felt like, even if it was just a clinical demonstration.
it's a dangerous, toxic thought. jay is your tutor. he’s sunghoon’s best friend, a guy known for his selective, zero-strings-attached reputation, and he is actively helping you construct a trap to catch jake. confusing your feelings now would be absolute social suicide. it would ruin everything.
you roll onto your side, pulling your blanket tightly around your shoulders as you look at your phone. tomorrow afternoon is the day. there are no more text modules left to practice. no more posture corrections or wardrobe updates.
tomorrow, you have to look jay park in the eye and let him teach you how to kiss.
and as you close your eyes, trying to force yourself to sleep, you realize with a jolt of pure panic that you aren't sure which reality you're more afraid of anymore: the one where you finally kiss jake sim, or the one where you have to watch jay pull away from you when the lesson is over.
-------
the rain is drumming a steady rhythm against the glass of room 314 when you walk in. the afternoon light is weak, casting the dorm in a hazy, intimate shadow that immediately makes your throat feel dry. jay is sitting on the edge of his bed, his legs spread, hands loosely clasped between his knees. he’s wearing a soft, oversized gray crewneck sweater, looking entirely relaxed, while your nerves are stretched so tight they’re practically screaming.
“welcome back, newbie,” jay says, his voice softer than usual, matching the quiet hum of the rain. he tracks your movement as you set your bag down, his eyes lingering on your tense shoulders. “you look like you’re walking to the gallows.”
“i’m just… anticipating,” you mumble, sitting on the opposite end of the bed, pulling your knees to your chest.
jay watches you for a beat, a faint, understanding smile touching his lips. “right. lesson four. kissing mechanics.” he shifts, leaning back against his headboard, his expression turning professional, though his dark eyes retain that sharp, observant glint. “before we start, a reminder of the rules. we agreed on a strict blueprint. entirely theoretical. no physical interaction. i’m here to give you the breakdown so you can take it to jake. clear?”
“clear,” you say. you try to sound relieved. you try to make your voice bright and cooperative. but a small, involuntary drop in your tone betrays you, a tiny hesitation that doesn’t escape his notice. a sudden, heavy wave of disappointment washes through you, sharp and humiliating, and you hate yourself for feeling it. you should be grateful for the boundary, but your skin feels suddenly cold.
jay’s eyes narrow slightly, analyzing the split-second change in your expression, but he doesn't comment on it. instead, he clears his throat and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“alright. let’s break down the mechanics,” jay begins, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that always makes your pulse spike. “kissing isn’t just about the lips, newbie. if you just dive in, it’s clumsy. it starts with the pacing. when jake leans in, you don’t rush to meet him halfway. you let him do the work. you tilt your chin up, keep your lips slightly parted — just a fraction — and breathe out softly. it signals invitation.”
you nod, trying to memorize the words, but your brain is panicking because jay is demonstrating the head tilt himself, his sharp jawline defining itself in the dim amber light of his desk lamp.
“when the actual contact happens, you start slow,” jay continues, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that feels almost physical. “it’s a gentle pressure. one lip tucked between his. you hold it for a beat, let the warmth build, and then you shift. it’s a rhythm. you use your hands — remember lesson two? — you let your fingers rest right on the side of his neck, just below the jaw. your thumb rests on his cheekstone. it stabilizes the movement, and it drives a guy absolutely crazy because it feels grounding.”
as he speaks, jay mimics the hand placement in the air, his long, elegant fingers moving with a slow grace that makes you track them like a hawk. the air in the room is growing increasingly thick, the space between you on the mattress suddenly feeling incredibly small.
“now,” jay murmurs, his gaze dropping to your lips for a heavy, unhurried second before rising back to your eyes. “let’s practice the approach. the build-up of tension right before the lips touch is fifty percent of the kiss. if you panic there, the whole thing is ruined.”
he slides down the mattress, closing the distance between you until he’s sitting cross-legged directly in front of you. your knees are practically brushing.
“i’m going to act as if i’m going to kiss you,” jay instructs softly, his playful arrogance completely gone, replaced by a quiet, suffocating gravity. “i’m going to get close. your job is to hold eye contact, keep your breathing steady, and do not pull away. understand?”
“yes,” you whisper, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs you’re certain he can hear it.
“look at me,” he commands gently.
you look up. jay leans in slowly.
the world outside the window completely ceases to exist. his movements are deliberate, agonizingly drawn out, giving your brain time to register every single detail. you see the dark depth of his eyes, the slight curve of his nose, the perfect, soft shape of his lips. he tilts his head to the side, a fraction of an inch, mapping out the angle perfectly.
closer. you can smell the rich, intoxicating scent of his sandalwood cologne mixed with the clean scent of his skin.
closer. his chest is almost touching yours, the warmth radiating off his body enveloping you in a heat wave. your breath catches in your throat, your lips parting automatically, exactly the way he taught you. your eyes flutter, desperately wanting to close, but you force them to stay open, locked onto his.
he stops.
his lips are barely half an inch from yours. you can feel the literal heat of his breath brushing against your skin, hovering right over your mouth. the tension in the microscopic space between you is a physical, electric current, pulling at you, begging you to lean forward just a millimeter to erase the agony of the distance. your heart is in your throat. you are completely paralyzed, drowning in the proximity of him.
jay stays perfectly still for three agonizing, breathless seconds, his gaze raking over your eyes, your nose, your trembling mouth. his jaw tightens, a sudden, fierce flash of hunger crossing his features before he forces it down.
slowly, deliberately, jay pulls back. the sudden rush of cool air between you feels like a physical shock. he sits straight up, clearing his throat, though his breathing is visibly shallower than it was five minutes ago.
“just like that,” jay says, his voice a little rough, a little strained. “you held the gaze. you didn't panic. do that with jake, and he’ll—”
the mention of jake’s name feels like a bucket of ice water, snapping something inside you. you look at jay — at his parted lips, his flushed neck, the sheer, unbothered control he’s trying to fake — and a sudden, reckless wave of desperation overrides every single rule, every single boundary, and every shred of your common sense.
and then something you would've never expected comes out of your mouth:
“jay, can you give me a practical example?”
the words hang in the air. jay freezes, his usual smirk vanishing. and for the first time since you walked into room 314, jay park looks completely caught off guard. his dark eyes widen just a fraction, his posture locking up as he stares at you in absolute silence. he stares at your face like he’s waiting for you to say you’re joking. the only sound in the room is the sound of the rain against the windowpane.
“what?” he asks, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. he tilts his head, blinking down at you like he’s entirely convinced his ears are playing tricks on him. “what did you just say, newbie?”
the sudden realization of what just tumbled out of your mouth hits you like a physical blow. your stomach plummets, and a fierce, blinding heat instantly erupts across your cheeks, burning all the way down to your neck. you instinctively try to pull your knees tighter to your chest, wanting nothing more than to shrink into a microscopic atom and disappear into the mattress.
“i… um,” you squeak out, your voice dropping to a mortified, breathless whisper. you look down at your hands, your fingers frantically twisting the fabric of your pajama pants. “i said… can you give me a practical example? like… a real one.”
jay doesn't move. he just stays cross-legged in front of you, absorbing your words. then, slowly, the shock on his face melts away. a brilliant, wicked, and entirely amused grin spreads across his sharp features. he lets out a low, rich chuckle that vibrates deep in his chest, leaning back slightly on his hands as he studies your purple face.
“wow,” jay murmurs, his tone dripping with pure, unadulterated amusement. “the quiet girl strikes again. you really are full of surprises, aren't you?”
“stop laughing at me!” you whine, hiding your face in your hands. your heart is beating so hard you can feel it in your teeth. “i’m being serious! i’m trying to be logical about this!”
“logical?” jay teases, his voice filled with a quiet, shaking laughter. he reaches out and gently, but firmly, tugs your wrists away from your face so you’re forced to look at him. he doesn't let go of your hands, keeping his fingers loosely looped around your wrists. “okay, professor. please, explain the logic to me. i’m dying to hear this.”
you swallow hard, your eyes darting everywhere but his lips. you try to summon every ounce of justification your panicked brain can manufacture.
“well… because!” you stammer, your voice incredibly shy, filled with an embarrassed pitch. “you said it yourself! you said kissing is all about the rhythm and the pacing. and— and you said if i panic during the approach, the whole thing is ruined! how am i supposed to know if i’m going to panic with jake if i haven't actually practiced the real thing? what if my timing is completely off? what if i accidentally bump teeth with him, jay? that would be traumatizing!”
jay listens to your anxious, stuttering speech, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. he looks incredibly smug, entirely enjoying how completely flustered you are.
“so,” jay says slowly, a lazy, teasing purr in his voice as he lightly squeezes your wrists. “let me get this straight. purely for educational purposes… for my duties as your instructor… you think we should break the non-physical clause. for the sake of science.”
“yes!” you whisper-yell, your face burning hotter, if that was even physically possible. “it’s just… a hands-on lab! like chemistry class! it makes perfect sense!”
“chemistry, huh?” jay echoes, his voice dropping an octave, the vibrant laughter in his eyes shifting into something much darker, much more intense.
he slowly releases your wrists, but he doesn't move back. instead, he slides even closer on the mattress, completely invading your personal space until the heat radiating from his body wraps around you like a blanket. the playful, mocking expression of his face softens into something dangerous.
“you’re a terrible liar, newbie,” jay murmurs, his eyes dropping to your parted lips, staring at them for a long, unhurried second before rising back to yours. “you’re not thinking about jake sim’s teeth right now. and you’re definitely not thinking about science.”
your breath hitches completely, your voice trapped in your throat.
“but…” jay whispers, his hand slowly rising to cup the side of your face, his broad palm warm against your burning cheek, his thumb gently resting right on your cheekbone — exactly where he had just described a minute ago. “if you’re really that worried about failing your practical exam… i guess your teacher is just going to have to show you how it’s done.”
jay doesn't give you a chance to think, to backtrack, or to let the embarrassment completely swallow you whole.
his fingers anchor themselves gently behind your neck, his thumb still resting right on your cheekbone, stabilizing you exactly the way he had mapped out verbally just moments before. he leans in, but there is no hesitation this time. the agonizing half-inch of space between your lips vanishes in a split second.
when his lips first touch yours, a gasp catches in your throat, and jay uses that exact fraction of a second to deepen the pressure. his lips are incredibly soft but firm, moving against yours with a practiced, devastating slow rhythm. a full-body shiver ripples through you, your hands automatically reaching out to clutch at the fabric of his soft gray sweater just to keep yourself grounded.
“breathe, newbie,” jay whispers against your mouth, his voice a low, rough vibration that sends a jolt of pure electricity straight down your spine. “don't hold your breath. follow me, don't overthink it.”
he pulls back just a millimeter, letting the cool air hit your wet lips before tilting his head to a slightly different angle and sliding right back in. it's a gentle, heavy pressure. he tucks your lower lip between his, sucking on it so softly it makes a quiet, embarrassing sound echo in the quiet dorm room. you try to copy the movement, your lips parting a little more as you attempt to match his pace.
“there you go,” jay murmurs, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he praises you mid-kiss. his hand slides from your neck down to your shoulder, his broad palm squeezing gently through your clothes. “keep your hands right there. stay relaxed. you’re doing perfect.”
he leads you flawlessly, controlling the entire gravity of the moment. every time you feel like you're about to lose your mind from the sheer intensity of it, jay slows things down, lingering in a soft, pressing rhythm that lets you catch up. your eyes have completely fluttered shut now, the darkness making the sensation of his lips, his warm hands, and the intoxicating scent of his sandalwood cologne a thousand times more overwhelming. you lose all track of time, completely drowning in the heat of his mouth, forgetting about the rain outside, forgetting about the syllabus, forgetting about everything.
when jay finally draws back, he does it slowly, his lips brushing against yours one last time before he fully breaks the contact.
the sudden loss of warmth leaves you feeling completely dazed. you slowly blink your eyes open, your chest heaving as you try to force air back into your lungs. jay is still hovering inches away from your face. his dark hair is slightly messy, his own breathing is visibly shallower, and his usually perfectly composed lips are a dark, flushed red. he’s staring down at you with a heavy, unreadable gaze that is entirely devoid of his usual playful arrogance.
for three long seconds, neither of you says a word.
then, reality comes crashing back down on you with the force of a tidal wave.
oh my god. you just kissed jay park. you practically begged him to do it. you used a fake excuse about "science" and "chemistry class" just to get him to put his hands on you.
a massive, blinding wave of mortification slaps you across the face. your cheeks explode into a furious, bright purple flush. you instantly let go of his sweater as if it had turned into white-hot iron, scrambling backward on the mattress until your back hits his headboard. you pull your knees all the way to your chest, burying your face completely in your arms, a small, choked groan escaping your throat.
“hey,” jay’s smooth voice breaks the silence, a soft, familiar chuckle bubbling up in his chest. you hear the mattress shift as he slides closer to you. “what are you hiding for? you’re the one who demanded a practical exam, professor.”
“please don’t look at me,” you whine into your knees, your voice incredibly muffled and strained with pure embarrassment. “i am going to jump out of that window. i am actually going to die right here on your bed.”
“don’t die yet, we still have to grade you,” jay teases, his tone dropping into that lazy, effortless purr. you feel his long fingers gently tap the top of your head. “come on, look up. i promise i won’t tease you too bad.”
you slowly, hesitantly lift your chin just enough to peek at him through the gap in your arms. jay is sitting right there, leaning his elbow on his knee with his chin resting in his palm, watching you with an incredibly amused, knowing grin.
“so,” jay murmurs, his dark eyes locking onto your wide, panicked ones. “how was the lesson? did it help clarify the mechanics for you?”
“i… yes,” you squeak out, your face still burning hot.
you pull your arms tighter around your legs, your heart still hammering a rushed rhythm against your ribs. you are completely, thoroughly embarrassed — more humiliated than you have ever been in your entire life. but beneath the suffocating layers of shyness, as you look at jay's slightly curved lips, you feel a terrifyingly honest truth settling deep in your chest.
you liked it. you liked it a lot. in fact, you liked it so much that the mere thought of taking these newly learned "mechanics" and using them on jake sim suddenly felt entirely, completely impossible.
-------
you keep your mouth shut. you don’t tell yunjin. in fact, you don’t tell a single living soul.
when you get back to your shared apartment that evening, yunjin is sitting on the kitchen counter eating dry cereal straight from the box, her eyes instantly narrowing into little laser beams the second the front door clicks shut. you quickly mutter something about having a massive headache from the library lights, sprint into your bedroom, and lock the door behind you. if you open your mouth, even just to breathe, you’re terrified the taste of jay’s strawberry-and-mint lip balm will somehow manifest in the air and give you away.
you spend the next two days in a state of absolute, localized hysteria.
the embarrassment is a physical weight, pressing down on your chest until you feel lightheaded. you can't stop replaying the feeling of his broad palm cradling your jaw, the specific, gravelly pitch of his voice when he whispered “breathe, newbie,” and the agonizingly soft, rhythmic pull of his lips against yours. you had loved it. you had loved it so much that just thinking about it while sitting in a Tuesday morning lecture makes your stomach do a violent, hot flip.
and that’s not even the worst part. the worst part — the thing that is currently keeping you awake at 3:00 a.m. staring at your ceiling fan — is how the lesson had actually ended.
right before you had practically bolted out of his dorm room, your face still a catastrophic shade of purple, jay had stood by the door with his hands shoved casually into his cargo pants. he had looked down at you, that slow, devastatingly handsome smirk firmly back in place, and murmured: “since you passed your practical exam with such high marks, newbie… i’ll let you call the shots for lesson five. it can be anything you want. think about it.”
anything you want.
how are you supposed to walk back into room 314 on thursday afternoon, look jay park in his incredibly symmetrical, aristocratic face, and say: 'oh, yeah, hi, remember how i said i wanted to learn for science? well, the science was great, can we please just make out for another hour?'
you can’t. you literally cannot do that. it would destroy the flimsy, pathetic shield of "educational purposes" you’ve been hiding behind. it would mean admitting that you aren't a student trying to impress jake sim anymore; it would mean admitting that jay has completely, effortlessly rewired your brain in the span of three weeks.
speaking of jake, his reality is becoming increasingly harder to navigate. he texts you a picture of a coffee cup on Wednesday morning: 'at the café near the library. wish you were somewhere i am today.'
you stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. a week ago, a text like that would have made you scream into your pillow. it’s exactly what you wanted. it’s a direct reference to the tease jay helped you send him. but now, looking at the letters, all you can think about is jay’s chest pressed against your back, his warm hands adjusting your waist in front of the mirror, and his low voice telling you to let him suffer.
when you reply with a simple, sweet 'awkward timing, i'm stuck in a study group! next time x', it feels like you’re writing a script for a play you’ve completely lost interest in starring in.
by thursday afternoon, your anxiety has reached a fever pitch. you change your sweater twice, eventually settling on a high-necked, oversized crewneck that offers absolutely zero skin-to-air vulnerability. you walk up the stairs of the west quad like a prisoner marching to the electric chair, your knees feeling strangely hollow.
when you reach room 314, you stand outside the heavy wooden door for a full sixty seconds, your hand raised to knock, your heart hammering a rushed rhythm against your ribs.
just be normal, you tell yourself, closing your eyes tightly. ask him to practice advanced flirting. ask him to break down how to read body language across a crowded room. do not look at his mouth. do not think about his hands.
you take one final, deep breath, brace your shoulders, and knock.
the door swings open, and jay is standing there looking entirely too comfortable in a soft cream-colored knit sweater and dark trousers. his eyes immediately lock onto yours, his gaze dropping to your high-necked crewneck before rising back to your face with a slow, knowing amusement.
“well, look who it is,” jay says, stepping back to let you into the room. the door closes behind you with a quiet, solid click that feels incredibly final. “come on in, newbie. i was starting to think you’d skipped town.”
“i wouldn’t skip town,” you mumble, keeping your eyes trained firmly on his desk as you walk past him. you sit on the very edge of his bed, your posture rigid and stiff, your hands tightly clasped in your lap.
jay doesn't sit in his desk chair this time. instead, he walks over and leans his hip against the edge of the mattress, just a couple of feet away from you. he crosses his arms, tilting his head as his sharp, observant eyes trace the tense line of your shoulders, the frantic way your fingers are twitching, and the obvious blush already coloring your cheeks.
“alright,” jay murmurs, his voice low and conversational. “lesson five. you’re calling the shots today. what’s on the agenda, professor? more chemistry labs, or are we pivoting?”
you clear your throat aggressively, trying to sound as clinical and professional as possible. “i think… i think we should practice advanced flirting. like, body language across a crowded room, or how to subtly command attention in a group conversation. i think that’s a really logical next step for jake.”
jay doesn't say anything for a long, agonizing beat. he just stands there, watching you stumble over your words. then, a slow, dangerous smile spreads across his lips, his eyes glinting with pure, unadulterated mischief. he knows you're lying. he can see right through your pathetic little shield, and he is clearly planning on playing dirty.
“advanced flirting in a crowd,” jay repeats smoothly, nodding his head as if he’s taking you completely seriously. “okay. sure. let’s practice that. but you know, advanced flirting isn’t just about looking across a room, newbie. it’s about what you do when you finally get close to someone in a crowded, loud space. when the music is too loud and you have to make them listen to only you.”
before you can even process his words, jay moves.
he slides onto the bed, shifting his weight until he is sitting directly beside you. his thigh presses flush against yours, the heavy, intoxicating warmth of his body immediately enveloping you. your breath hitches, your entire body going completely rigid as you stare straight ahead, terrified to look at him.
“let’s set the scene,” jay whispers, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight through the mattress. he leans in closer, his chest brushing against your arm. “we’re at a busy bar. the music is throwing heavy bass. jake is standing right next to you, but there are people everywhere, pushing into your space. if you just talk normally, he won't hear you. you have to close the distance.”
he leans over, his face entering your peripheral vision. you bite your lip, staring straight ahead at his closet door, your heart hammering so violently against your ribs it feels painful.
then, jay eliminates the space entirely.
he leans over your shoulder, his chest pressing firmly against your back. he tilts his head, burying his face right in the crook of your neck, just an inch away from your sensitive skin. his hot, heavy breath fans out across your jawline and the side of your neck, sending a violent, electric shiver straight down your spine. you let out a soft, helpless gasp, your fingers tightly gripping the fabric of your own sweater.
“if you want him to notice you,” jay murmurs, his lips brushing against the tiny hairs on your neck as he speaks, his voice a devastatingly hot, quiet rumble right against your ear, “you don’t shout over the noise. you lean in. right here. where it’s quiet.”
you can feel the warmth of his lips moving, the heat of his skin radiating into yours. the air in the room is completely gone, replaced by the suffocating, heavy scent of his sandalwood cologne. your mind is a chaotic, blurred mess; you can’t think about jake, you can’t think about advanced flirting, you can’t think about anything other than the agonizing friction of jay’s body pressed against yours.
“and then,” jay continues softly, his hand slowly rising to rest on the curve of your waist, his large palm squeezing gently through your thick sweater, anchoring you to him, “you tell him something confidential. something that makes him forget the entire room exists.”
he lingers there for an agonizing, breathless three seconds, his breath hot against your ear, letting the agonizing tension build until you’re practically trembling under his touch. you’re completely paralyzed, your lips parted, waiting, secretly begging for him to just turn your face and kiss you again.
instead, jay slowly draws his head back just a fraction. he doesn't move his body away, keeping his chest pressed to your back and his hand firmly on your waist, but he tilts his head so he can look at the side of your face. his eyes are dark, intense.
“but we aren't at a crowded bar, newbie,” jay whispers, his voice dropping even lower, turning into something raw and fiercely honest. his thumb rubs a slow circle into your waist. “it’s just you and me in a quiet room. and your shoulders are up to your ears because you’re lying to me.”
you swallow hard, a shaky breath escaping your lips.
jay leans in just a millimeter closer, his lips almost brushing your earlobe. “so stop playing games with me. look at me and tell me what you really want to do for lesson five.”
you swallow hard, the feel of his thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles through the fabric of your sweater making it completely impossible to form a coherent thought. your gaze is frozen on the wrinkled blankets of his bed, your pulse hammering a rapid rhythm in your ears. jay doesn't move. he stays right there, his chest warm against your back, his breath a steady, intoxicating heat against the side of your neck, patiently waiting you out.
"i'm waiting, newbie," he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing purr that completely undoes the last shred of your resolve.
"i... i want to practice kissing again," you blurts out, the words rushing out of you in a desperate, breathless squeak.
the hand on your waist pauses for a fraction of a second. jay doesn't immediately pull back, but you can feel the slight shift in his posture, the way his jaw tightens against your hair. you quickly scramble to cover your track, the sheer embarrassment forcing your brain into overdrive as you try to construct a pathetic safety net of logic.
"because— because of the mechanics!" you stammer quickly, your voice dropping to a mortified whisper as you twist your fingers together. "the last time... i was entirely caught off guard, jay. and i felt like i was completely awful at it. i didn't know where to put my hands, and my timing was definitely off, and... and if i'm going to be ready for jake, i need to actually make sure i can do the rhythm properly without freezing up. it’s just for the lesson. for practice."
the silence that follows is thick enough to cut with a knife. for three agonizing seconds, you’re entirely convinced you’ve gone too far, that he’s going to laugh at your transparent excuse and tell you the lesson is over.
then, slowly, jay draws back.
you force yourself to turn your head, your cheeks burning a bright, furious pink as you look at him. jay is studying your face, his dark eyes incredibly heavy and focused. the playful, arrogant smirk you expected isn't there; instead, his lips are parted slightly, his gaze dropping to your mouth before rising back to meet your eyes with an intensity that makes your breath catch.
"for practice," he echoes, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates straight to your core.
"yes," you whisper.
"alright," jay murmurs, his tone shifting into something thick and serious. he slides closer, crossing his legs so he’s sitting directly in front of you, completely erasing the distance. "if we’re going to fix your rhythm, we need to do it right. look at me."
you lift your chin, your eyes locking onto his. jay doesn't hesitate this time. his large, warm hand rises, his long fingers sliding effortlessly into the hair at the back of your neck, his thumb anchoring right on your jawline to tilt your face up. he leans in, and before your brain can even register the proximity, his lips are pressing firmly against yours.
the contact is an immediate shock of heat. unlike the brief practical exam from days ago, jay doesn't start with a gentle question. he slides his lips over yours with a slow, heavy confidence, guiding your mouth to open slightly with a soft, persistent pressure.
"put your hands on my shoulders," jay whispers directly against your mouth, his breath hot and ragged as he pulls back just a millimeter to give the instruction. "don't just let them hang there. hold onto me."
your hands shake as you lift them, your fingers clutching tightly at the soft cream fabric of his knit sweater. the moment your palms make contact with his broad shoulders, jay lets out a low, approving hum deep in his throat. he tilts his head to the opposite angle, his lips sealing over yours again, deepening the kiss with a slow, agonizingly deliberate pace.
he teaches you through the movement itself. when your movements get too rushed or frantic from the sheer panic of how good it feels, jay uses the firm grip on the back of your neck to slow you down, lingering in a heavy, pressing rhythm that forces you to match his breath. his tongue lightly brushes against your bottom lip, a subtle, electrifying hint that makes a quiet, helpless sound escape your throat. jay catches the sound, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin of your jawline, pulling you closer until your chest is completely pressed against his.
the "practice kiss" begins to stretch, the boundaries of the lesson blurring until the air in the dorm room feels thick and heavy with a sudden, suffocating wave of genuine friction. it isn't just a clinical demonstration anymore. his lips are moving against yours with a raw, unhurried hunger, his breathing turning shallow and rough against your cheek. your fingers tangle deeper into the knit of his sweater, your body leaning entirely into his warmth, completely lost in the intoxicating taste of him. it’s a full-on makeout, a lingering, breathless collision that has absolutely nothing to do with jake sim.
suddenly, as if realizing exactly how far the line has been crossed, jay stiffens.
he pulls away, his hand sliding out of your hair as he abruptly breaks the contact.
the sudden loss of his warmth leaves you gasping for air, your lips tingling and flushed a deep red. you scramble back a few inches, your heart thumping violently against your ribs as reality comes crashing down on you like ice water.
the silence in the room is deafening, save for the sound of your ragged breathing. jay is sitting right in front of you, his dark hair completely messy from your fingers, his chest heaving under his sweater. he looks completely ungrounded, his eyes staring down at his own hands for a long, heavy beat before he finally forces himself to look up at you.
the atmosphere is thick with a sharp, suffocating awkwardness. both of you are completely aware that that wasn't on the syllabus.
jay clears his throat, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck as he shifts slightly on the mattress, trying desperately to summon his usual composed, unbothered demeanor.
“that was… good,” jay says, his voice rough, strained, and completely lacking its usual playful smugness. he avoids looking directly at your lips, his dark eyes focusing on your forehead instead as he slides off the bed and stands up. “your timing is… it’s fine. we’ll work on it.”
the minute those words leave jay’s mouth, the spell breaks entirely. you don't even wait for him to officially dismiss you. you practically scramble off the edge of his bed, your sneakers skidding slightly on the hardwood floor of his dorm as you snatch your tote bag from his desk chair with trembling hands.
“i— i have to go,” you stammer, your voice a high, frantic squeak that you barely recognize. you can't even look him in the eye; your gaze is glued to the door handle as you sprint toward it. “i have… a study group. and a paper. thank you for the lesson!”
you yank the door open and fling yourself out into the hallway, slamming it shut behind you before jay can even utter a response.
the walk — or rather, the hyperventilating run — back to your apartment is a blur of pure, unadulterated panic. your chest feels incredibly tight, your lungs burning as the cool evening air hits your face, but it does absolutely nothing to cool the raging fire still burning on your lips. your lips are tingling, slightly swollen, and heavy with the undeniable taste of him.
it’s for jake, you tell yourself, your fingers gripping the straps of your tote bag so tightly your knuckles turn a stark, ghostly white. it’s entirely for jake.
you turn the corner past the campus library, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you mentally repeat the words like a sacred mantra. the only reason i asked him to do that is because jake is going to kiss me soon. yunjin said jay is the best teacher. i just needed hands-on experience so i don’t humiliate myself when jake finally makes a move. it’s an educational baseline. that’s all it is.
but the anxious pacing of your thoughts only gets faster, louder, and more desperate.
if i didn't practice with jay, i would have frozen up with jake. jay was just correcting my rhythm. he said my timing was fine. so now, when jake kisses me, it’s going to be perfect. i’m doing this to save my future with jake. jay is just an instrument. a tutor. a textbook.
you push open the heavy glass door to your apartment building, practically taking the stairs two at a time because the elevator feels too slow, too claustrophobic for the storm currently raging inside your head.
it doesn't matter that my heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. it doesn't matter that i forgot how to breathe. it doesn't matter that i wanted him to keep going. you reach your front door, fumbling blindly with your keys, your hands shaking so violently that the metal clicks loudly against the lock. it’s for jake. it’s all for jake sim. it has to be.
you unlock the door and burst inside, instantly slamming it behind you and leaning your back against the wood, letting out a long, shaky exhale. the apartment is dark and quiet — yunjin isn't home yet — which is a blessing, because if she took one look at your wild eyes and bitten lips, she would know instantly that you didn't just practice advanced flirting.
you drop your bag on the floor and walk straight into the bathroom, flicking on the harsh overhead light. you lean over the sink and stare at your reflection in the mirror.
your cheeks are still flushed a deep, telltale crimson. your hair is slightly unruly where jay's fingers had tangled into it, and your lips are undeniably darker, stung red from the heavy, lingering pressure of his mouth. you look completely undone. you look like a girl who just got thoroughly made out with by jay park.
your phone suddenly buzzes in your pocket, the sharp vibration making you jump.
with a racing heart, you pull it out. a notification blocks the screen.
jake: hey! just finished soccer practice. totally random, but are you free to grab dinner tomorrow night? just the two of us? 😊
you stare at the glowing text, the emojis, the sweet, easy invitation from the boy you’ve been dreaming about for months. it’s the exact moment you’ve been working toward. the ultimate goal. the reason you embarrassed yourself, the reason you sent the photos, the reason you walked into room 314 in the first place.
you lift your eyes back to your reflection in the mirror, your thumb hovering over the screen to type out a reply.
see? you think, your mind screaming at you to believe the lie as a cold sweat breaks out across your palms. it worked. the lessons worked. everything i did today… it was all just so i could be ready for tomorrow night. with jake.
but as you finally press your thumb to the glass to type 'i'd love to', your eyes automatically drift down to your own lips, and the phantom sensation of jay's heavy, rough breathing against your skin returns with a fierce, suffocating intensity that leaves you completely breathless.
-------
the afternoon sun is hitting the windows of room 314 when you walk in, casting long, warm bars of light across the hardwood floor. it’s a sharp contrast to the stormy darkness of your last lesson, but the familiar scent of sandalwood and clean laundry still hits you the second the door opens.
jay is sitting at his desk, casually typing something on his laptop, but he looks up the moment you step inside. his dark eyes immediately track your movement as you set your tote bag down by the door. he looks entirely composed, the previous lesson's awkwardness seemingly evaporated from his demeanor, replaced by his usual calm, lazy aura.
“welcome back, newbie,” jay says smoothly, closing his laptop with a quiet click. he stands up, stretching his arms slightly before walking over to his mini-fridge. “how was the big date?”
you sit down on the edge of his mattress, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. just the mention of yesterday makes a strange swirl of emotions tighten in your stomach.
“it was… really nice,” you say softly, staring down at the pattern of his blanket. “jake was amazing. he took me to that little Italian place downtown, the one with the string lights. he paid for everything, even when i tried to argue with him. and he was just so sweet, jay. he listened to me talk about my classes, he laughed at my jokes, and he walked me all the way back to my apartment building.”
jay leans against the edge of his desk, taking a sip of water, his eyes locked onto your face. “sounds like a textbook perfect date. so why do you look like someone just kicked your puppy?”
you swallow the lump in your throat, your voice dropping to a shy, embarrassed whisper. “because… he didn't kiss me.”
jay pauses, his water bottle halfway down from his lips. a sudden, sharp curiosity flashes in his eyes. “he didn't?”
“no,” you groan, burying your face in your knees for a second before looking back up at him, completely miserable. “we stood on the porch of my building for like three whole minutes. i did the eye contact. i did the posture thing you taught me. i held his gaze, my lips were parted, i did everything right! but he just… he smiled, ruffled my hair, told me he had an amazing time, and said goodnight. i don’t get it. did i do something wrong? did he see right through me?”
jay stares at you for a beat, and then, a slow, incredibly wicked smirk begins to crawl onto his face. the intense seriousness from the end of your last lesson is gone, replaced by a wave of pure, triumphant amusement. he sets his water bottle down on the desk and steps closer to the bed.
“newbie, you didn't do anything wrong,” jay says, his voice a low, deeply satisfied rumble. “you’re just dealing with jake sim. the guy is a traditionalist. he’s old-school. he’s not going to lunges at a girl on the very first dinner date, especially not a girl he actually respects and likes as much as he clearly likes you.”
he hitches his usual desk chair over, spinning it around to sit directly in front of you, his knees inches from yours. “honestly? this is perfect for us. it means we’re officially two steps ahead of him.”
you blink, confused. “two steps ahead? what do you mean?”
“i mean,” jay says, leaning forward, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a suffocating amount of focus, “by the time he finally gets the nerve to make a real move on you, you’re not just going to know how to handle a basic kiss. you’re going to be a master. which brings us to today's actual syllabus.”
he rests his elbows on his knees, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that instantly sets your pulse racing. “today, we’re moving past the initial contact. we’re talking about a full-on makeout. the pacing, the breathing, how to build the physical escalation without getting overwhelmed. how to take control of the rhythm so he’s the one losing his mind, not you.”
your breath hitches completely. the memory of how your last "practice kiss" had spiraled into a lingering, breathless fog flashes through your brain, making your lips tingle instantly.
jay studies the sudden, bright pink flush spreading across your cheeks. his smile softens just a fraction, a quiet, intense gravity taking over his features. he leans in a microscopic inch closer, his eyes dropping to your mouth before rising back to yours.
“so,” jay murmurs, his voice a heavy, dangerous purr. “do you want today's lesson to be purely theoretical… or do you want a practical example, newbie?”
your heart is thumping so hard against your ribs you’re certain he can hear it. you know you should say theoretical. you know you should protect your sanity, preserve the lie that this is all just an educational game for jake. but as you look at jay — at his sharp jawline, his messy dark hair, his perfect, parted lips — the desperation from days ago takes over completely.
you don’t say a word. you just look him straight in the eye and nod your head, a tiny, submissive gesture.
“good girl,” jay whispers, the words vibrating straight down your spine.
he doesn't waste a single second. jay slides out of the chair and onto the mattress, crossing his legs right in front of you. his large, warm hand rises instantly, his long fingers sliding effortlessly into the hair at the back of your neck, his thumb anchoring firmly against your jawline to tilt your face up.
“remember the pacing,” jay murmurs right before his lips touch yours. “let me lead first.”
the instant his mouth seals over yours, the entire world outside room 314 completely vanishes. his lips are incredibly soft but heavy with a firm, demanding pressure that immediately makes a soft, helpless sigh escape your throat. jay catches the sound, his thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin of your jaw, guiding your mouth to open just a fraction more.
“breathe through your nose, newbie,” he whispers against your lips, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he shifts the angle of his head, deepening the kiss with a slow, agonizingly deliberate rhythm. “don’t rush it. follow my pace.”
you lift your hands, your fingers shaking as you clutch tightly at the soft fabric of his knit sweater, pulling yourself closer until your chest is flush against his. jay lets out a low, rough hum of approval deep in his throat at the touch, his grip on the back of your neck tightening just enough to anchor you completely.
the kiss quickly deepens, the boundaries of a simple "lesson" shattering instantly into a heavy, intoxicating fog. jay shows you how to escalate the tension; his lips move against yours with a raw, unhurried hunger, his tongue lightly tracing your bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth in a soft, agonizing tug that leaves you completely breathless.
“when the energy shifts,” jay murmurs, his voice raspy as he briefly parts from your lips to trace a line of burning kisses along your jawline, his lips hovering right over the sensitive skin beneath your ear, “you use your hands to change the dynamic. don’t just hold my sweater. slide your hands up. touch his neck.”
as if under a spell, you follow his whispered instructions. you let your hands slide up his broad chest, your fingers wrapping around the warm skin of his neck, your thumbs resting just below his sharp jawline. the physical contact makes jay let out a sharp, ragged exhale against your skin.
he pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes clouded with a fierce, heavy intensity that has absolutely nothing to do with jake sim. his chest is heaving under his sweater, his lips dark and swollen.
“just like that,” jay whispers, his large hand sliding down from your neck to firmly grip your waist, pulling your hips a fraction closer to his on the mattress. “you control the distance. if he gets too frantic, you hold him right there. if you want more… you pull him back in.”
he doesn't wait for you to pull him. jay leans back down, his mouth crashing back onto yours with a sudden, overwhelming wave of passion that makes your head spin. it’s a full-on, breathless makeout, his lips parting yours completely, his thumb rubbing a slow, heavy circle into your waist through your shirt. you lose all track of time, completely drowning in the intoxicating taste of him, your fingers tangling into his dark hair as you match his pace, completely forgetting who this lesson was supposed to be for.
when jay finally draws back, it is agonizingly slow, his lips lingering against yours in three short, pressing kisses before he completely breaks the contact.
the sudden loss of his warmth leaves you shivering, your chest heaving as you desperately try to force air back into your lungs. jay stays hovering inches away, his forehead resting lightly against yours for a brief, breathless second before he slowly straightens up. his breathing is completely ungrounded, his eyes dark as he stares down at your thoroughly kissed, flushed face.
the silence in the room is suffocating, heavy with the weight of what just happened.
jay clears his throat, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck as he shifts back on the mattress, trying to force his usual lazy, unbothered smirk back onto his face — though his trembling fingers completely give him away.
“that was… the baseline,” jay says, his voice rough, strained, and entirely devoid of his usual arrogance. he looks away from your lips, his gaze tracking a stray shadow on the wall instead. “we’ll… we’ll stop there for today. your pacing is fine, newbie. jake won’t know what hit him.”
he stands up quickly, walking over to the door to open it for you, but as you scramble off the bed with a racing heart, you realize with a sudden wave of absolute panic that you don't care about jake sim's reaction at all anymore.
-------
you would be lying to yourself if you had said you hadn't been eager for more after that. you were. in fact, you started meeting jay almost every day so you could "practice" making out.
it became an unspoken, addictive routine. you didn't even wait for a scheduled thursday afternoon anymore. a quick, vague text from jay — ‘my room’s free if you want to study’ — and you would find yourself walking toward room 314 with your heart already doing double-flips inside your chest. you didn't even bring your notebooks anymore. what was the point of pretending?
with every single day that passed, the lessons started escalating little by little, the boundaries of "basic mechanics" crumbling into dust.
one afternoon, the air in his dorm room felt so suffocatingly hot that your hands grew bold. jay was guiding you through a deeper rhythm, his lips heavy and possessive against yours, when your fingers strayed from the hem of his sweater and slid up, slipping underneath the fabric. your bare palms pressed flat against the warm, solid skin of his lower back. you remember the exact way his entire body had rigidified for a split second, a low, ragged growl catching in his throat before he completely lost his composure, his lips turning frantic against yours.
another day, the lesson wasn't about the mouth at all. jay had backed you up against his closed closet door, his large hands anchoring your wrists gently against the wood above your head. “advanced escalation,” he had whispered against your skin, his voice a dangerous, gravelly rasp right before he buried his face in your neck. he had kissed his way down your jawline, his lips warm and demanding as he sucked softly on the sensitive skin right above your collarbone, leaving a faint, stinging heat that made your knees turn to literal water.
but the most shocking shift — the one that still makes your face burn a furious purple when you think about it during lectures — happened just two days ago.
jay had been sitting in the middle of his unmade bed, watching you pace around his room as you anxiously rambled on about your nerves. without a word, he had reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you down. before your brain could even process the movement, jay's hands were on your waist, lifting you up and guiding you until you were completely straddling his lap, your knees resting on either side of his thighs.
your whole body had gone into a state of absolute shock, your face inches from his. but jay hadn't teased you. he had just looked up at you with those dark, fiercely intense eyes, his thumbs rubbing slow, heavy circles into your hips. “this is how you handle the proximity,” he had murmured. and then he had pulled you down by your neck.
you had kissed for a whole hour. a full, breathless, uninterrupted sixty minutes where your hands were tangled in his hair, his broad chest was crushed against yours, and his mouth was relentlessly teaching you a rhythm that made your entire soul ache. your body had fit perfectly against his, the heat between you completely consuming the small room. and you had enjoyed every single, agonizing second of it.
still, despite the bare skin, the bruised lips, and the sheer intimacy of sitting on his lap, you kept trying to convince yourself it was all because of jake.
every night, when you lay awake in your own bed staring at the ceiling, you forced yourself to repeat the old script. it’s not because of jay. jay park has absolutely nothing to do with it. he’s just an instructor. he’s just incredibly good at what he does because he’s experienced, and i am just a good student taking advantage of a resource.
you told yourself that the violent butterflies in your stomach, the way your hands shook whenever you touched his skin, and the desperate hunger you felt every time he leaned in were all just a biological reaction. you were just enjoying the physical sensation of making out because, in the back of your mind, you were projecting. you were simply thinking about doing all of these things with jake sim. jay was just the proxy, the placeholder, the mannequin you were using to perfect your technique so that when the time finally came, you would drive jake absolutely crazy.
or at least… that’s what you said to yourself.
-------
you keep your mouth shut, maintaining the absolute lockdown on your secret. whenever yunjin asks how the lessons are going, you look her straight in the eye and lie through your teeth, insisting it’s all strictly theoretical. you tell her jay is just drawing diagrams and explaining body language, all while your lips are still practically stinging from being thoroughly devoured by him just an hour prior.
in the meantime, you keep hanging out with jake. he takes you to get ice cream, he walks you to class, and he remains the perfect, sweet gentleman. but whenever he holds your hand or leans in to give you a polite, fleeting peck on the cheek, a bizarre, hollow sensation settles in your chest. you keep expecting the earth to move, expecting to feel that white-hot, electric current that roars through your veins every time you walk into room 314. but it never comes. you’re just building up to it, you tell yourself desperately. the real spark will happen later. jay is just priming you.
and then comes today's lesson.
the afternoon sun is completely blocked out by the heavy curtains jay drew across his window, plunging the dorm room into a dark, suffocatingly intimate haze. you’re sitting directly on his lap, your legs straddling his thighs. the friction between your bodies is a living, breathing thing. you've grown bold over the past week; your hands are slipped entirely beneath his oversized tee, your palms pressed flat against the hot, defined muscles of his chest. your hips shift instinctively, a slow, heavy grind against his lap as you chase the friction, your mouth moving against his in a deep, wet rhythm that leaves you both completely breathledd.
jay lets out a sharp, ragged groan directly into your mouth. his hands, which had been anchoring your hips, suddenly tighten with a bruising force. he abruptly pulls his head back, his breathing incredibly shallow and heavy as he forces you to stop moving.
his dark hair is completely unruly, his lips a dark, swollen crimson. he looks up at you, his eyes clouded with a raw, fierce hunger that makes your stomach do a violent flip.
“jesus, newbie,” jay rasps, his chest heaving under his shirt as his hands steady your trembling waist. he takes a long, ragged breath, his voice dropping into an incredibly low, gravelly register. “hold on. stop moving for a second.”
you blink down at him, dazed, your heart hammering against your ribs. “what? did i… did i do it wrong?”
jay lets out a low, breathless chuckle, though his jaw remains incredibly tight. “no. you didn't do it wrong. that’s the problem. the way you move…” he pauses, his intense gaze raking over your flushed face, tracking the absolute innocence in your wide eyes. a sudden, heavy curiosity settles over his features. “have you actually ever done anything sexual before this? like, at all?”
the question hits you like a bucket of ice water. a fierce, blinding wave of mortification instantly erupts across your cheeks. you instinctively try to shift off his lap, but his grip on your waist tightens, keeping you anchored right there against his heat.
“no,” you squeak out, your voice dropping to an incredibly shy, embarrassed whisper. you look down at his collarbone, unable to hold his gaze. “i haven't. i’ve never… i’ve never done anything. i told you, i'm a total newbie.”
jay stares at you, a complex flash of emotion crossing his face — surprise, a sudden wave of protectiveness, and a trace of possessiveness that he quickly tries to mask. he clears his throat, his thumb rubbing a slow, grounding circle into your hip.
“right,” jay murmurs, his voice softening just a fraction. “okay. well. you’re doing great for a beginner.”
you swallow hard, the frantic script in your head screaming at you to take control, to justify why you're enjoying this so much, why you’re pushing the boundaries. you look at his perfectly parted lips, then back up to his dark eyes, and a reckless, desperate thought tumbles right out of your mouth.
“jay… can you teach me about the rest of it?”
jay freezes, his hand instantly stopping its movement on your hip. “the rest of it?”
“yes,” you stammer, your voice incredibly small but filled with a panicked, stubborn determination. you force the lie out, hiding behind your golden shield. “i mean… for jake! what if things escalate on our next date? what if he wants to go further? i don’t want to be completely clueless. i want to know how to make him feel good. i need to learn how sex works. the mechanics.”
jay studies your face for a long, agonizingly silent beat. the air in the room feels impossibly thick. you can feel the sudden, intense heat radiating from his lap, a physical reminder of exactly what your grinding had done to him. but jay is a professional, and more than that, he refuses to pressure you or take advantage of the ridiculous web of lies you've spun.
slowly, deliberately, jay lifts his hands and gently guides you off his lap. the sudden loss of his warmth makes you shiver. he sits back against his headboard, pulling one knee up to his chest, his expression shifting into something clinical, serious, and entirely focused.
“alright, newbie,” jay says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that commands your absolute attention. “if you want to talk about how to make a guy feel good, we’re keeping this strictly theoretical. understand? no hands-on for this part.”
you nod quickly, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, your hands tightly clasped in your lap as your face burns hot.
“good. then let’s start with manual stimulation. handjobs,” jay begins, his tone conversational but his words dripping with a raw, explicit honesty that makes your jaw drop. “it’s not just about gripping and sliding. the anatomy is sensitive. a guy's nerves are concentrated right at the head, especially underneath, on the frenulum. if you just pull the skin up and down dry, it’s uncomfortable. you need friction control. you use lubrication, or even just saliva, and you start with a firm but gentle grip at the base.”
you feel your eyes widening, your brain frantically trying to take mental notes as he speaks. jay doesn't break eye contact; he looks straight at you, using clinical but undeniably dirty language that makes your heart thump in your throat.
“the rhythm is everything,” jay continues smoothly, his voice dropping an octave, turning into a heavy, suffocating purr. “you match his breathing. a slow, steady stroke all the way from the base to the top, and when you reach the head, you twist your thumb gently over the top. it builds the pressure. you don’t speed up until his breath catches. you pay attention to his sounds.”
“o-oh,” you squeak, your hands twisting together. “i… okay. slow rhythm. twist at the top.”
“exactly,” jay says, a faint, amused half-smile touching his lips at your absolute mortification, though his eyes remain heavy and intense. “now, if things go further… oral. blowjobs. this is where most girls panic because they think about their teeth. your teeth should never touch his skin, newbie. you keep your lips curled completely over them. like an anchor.”
you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust. your cheeks are a catastrophic shade of purple, but you are hanging on every single syllable.
“the technique isn’t just about depth,” jay murmurs, his gaze dropping to your mouth for a heavy, unhurried second before rising back to your eyes. “it’s about suction and warmth. you use the roof of your mouth and your tongue to create a vacuum. you start slow, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him in. and the most important part? the pacing. you don’t just stay at the top; you move down to the base, using one hand to stroke the shaft while your mouth handles the rest. dual stimulation.”
he pauses, leaning forward just a fraction, his voice dropping into a whisper that sends a violent shiver straight down your spine.
“and you never, ever break eye contact,” jay whispers, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a terrifying amount of gravity. “when you’re down there, you look up at him. through your lashes. you let him see exactly what you’re doing to him. it drives a guy absolutely insane, newbie. it completely breaks his control.”
you sit there, completely paralyzed, your chest heaving as you absorb the intense, explicit breakdown. you are utterly mortified, entirely overwhelmed, and your brain is screaming at you that you are supposed to be picturing jake sim during this entire lecture.
but as you look at jay — at the way his jaw tightens, the way his low, gravelly voice sounds saying those explicit words, and the dark, possessive heat hidden deep in his eyes — you realize with a sudden wave of pure terror that jake’s face hasn't crossed your mind even once.
you sit there at the foot of his bed, your heart hammering against your ribs so violently you can hear it in your ears. the explicit details of his words are still hanging heavy in the dim, warm air of the dorm room. your hands are knotted tightly in the fabric of your sweater, your palms slick with a nervous sweat.
you look down at his lap, then back up to his dark, unhurried eyes. the golden shield of your excuse — the lie that this is all a clinical preparation for a future with jake sim — feels incredibly heavy, but it’s the only armor you have left.
"jay," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. you swallow hard, your face burning a catastrophic shade of crimson as you force the words out. "if... if the rhythm and the grip are that specific... what if i mess it up? what if i'm too rough, or too loose? can you... can you give me another practical example?"
jay’s entire body tenses. the casual, leaning posture against his headboard locks up instantly. his eyes widen just a fraction, his gaze dropping to your trembling hands before snapping back up to look at your face. the heavy, silent tension in room 314 returns with the force of a physical blow.
"newbie," jay rasps, his voice rougher and deeper than before. he clears his throat, his knuckles whitening as his hands grip the mattress. "we said strictly theoretical for this. i'm not trying to rush you into anything."
"i'm not rushed," you lie desperately, leaning forward just a fraction, your heart in your throat. "i just... i need to know if i'm doing it right. for the baseline. please, jay."
jay stares at you for three agonizing, breathless seconds. his jaw tightens so hard you can see the muscle tick under his sharp skin. he lets out a long, slow, ragged exhale through his teeth, the restraint he’s been maintaining for weeks visibly fracturing.
"alright," jay murmurs, his tone shifting into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight through your chest. "come here."
you move on your knees, sliding across the mattress until you're sitting right beside his thigh. your knees are trembling. jay reaches down, his fingers hooking under the hem of his dark trousers, and with a low rustle of fabric, he frees himself.
your breath catches completely. he is already thick, fully erect, and a dark, heavy flush is painting his skin. the pure, raw reality of it makes your mind go entirely blank.
"don't look away," jay commands softly, his voice remarkably steady despite the shallow rise and fall of his chest. "wrap your fingers like this."
he reaches out, his broad, warm hand wrapping around yours to guide it. he positions your fingers at the very base of his shaft, curling them in a firm, even cylinder. his skin feels smooth, white-hot, and pulsing beneath your touch.
"now, look at me," jay whispers, his face inches from yours. "stroke up. slow. all the way to the top."
you slowly move your hand upward, the physical friction sending a jolt of pure electricity straight up your arm. your heart is beating in an erratic rhythm against your ribs.
"good. just like that, newbie," jay praises you, a low, breathy rumble in his throat. his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, a soft, encouraging look melting his usual sharp features. "now, when you hit the head... slower at the top. twist your thumb over the frenulum. exactly like i explained."
you follow his instructions perfectly, slowing the motion, your thumb dragging gently over the ultra-sensitive rim.
"oh— fuck," jay lets out a sudden, ragged groan, his eyes instantly fluttering shut as his head thumps back against the headboard. the sound is deep, unvarnished, and completely intoxicating. "yes. right there. that's perfect, sweetheart. keep that exact pace."
hearing the pet name slip past his lips makes your stomach do a violent, hot flip. you keep going, your movements becoming smoother, more confident as you fall into the heavy, dragging rhythm. you watch his face, completely fascinated by the raw power you suddenly hold over him.
but as the seconds tick by, the clinical baseline completely disintegrates. the touch is too hot, the friction too intense, and jay’s carefully constructed control begins to dangerously slip.
his breathing turns shallow and frantic, his chest heaving under his shirt. his sharp, dark brows furrow in a look that almost resembles pain. he lets out another heavy, broken groan, a sudden, involuntary jerk rippling through his lower half as his hips instinctively thrust upward against the firm pressure of your hand.
"jay," you whisper, completely captivated by the sight of him losing his mind beneath your touch.
"keep going... shit, don't stop," he swears under his breath, his voice rough and completely ungrounded. his hand flies to your wrist, not to pull you away, but to physically lock your hand in place, his fingers squeezing tightly as he takes over the pace, forcing your hand to move faster, harder against him. another ragged, breathy moan escapes his lips, his jaw clenching so tightly his veins stand out against his neck. "you're too good at this... fuck, newbie..."
the sheer, overwhelming heat of the moment fills the quiet room, the sound of his ragged breathing and the soft, slick friction of your hand filling the space between you. you are utterly drowning in him, your thumb tracing the wetness at the tip, your own breathing turning heavy as you lean into his space.
you look up through your lashes, his dark eyes snapping open to look down at you, clouded with a fierce, possessive hunger. and that’s when the old, desperate script in your head panics, trying one last time to pull you back to safety.
"is this… how i should do it for jake?" you whisper, the question slipping out before you can stop it.
jay freezes.
the pleasure on his face vanishes instantly. his hand snaps down, gripping your wrist hard enough to still you completely. his eyes open, sharp and raw.
jay stares down at you, his chest heaving, his lips parted as he absorbs the name. for a second, something painful flashes across his face — hurt, anger, and something deeper. he exhales shakily, then gently but firmly removes your hand from him. the silence that crashes into the room is suffocating.
he reaches down, gently but firmly removing your hand from his skin, and quietly covers himself back up, shifting his weight to sit back against the wall.
the sudden loss of contact leaves your hand feeling cold, your fingers tingling. the blinding wave of embarrassment returns, your cheeks exploding into a furious red flush as you realize what you just said.
“newbie…” he says quietly, voice rough. “don’t do that.”
you feel sick with embarrassment. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—”
but jay doesn't lash out. he doesn't tease you, and he doesn't bring up the name. instead, he just looks down at your flustered, wide-eyed face, a soft, incredibly gentle expression taking over his sharp features.
"hey," jay murmurs, his voice still low and beautifully rough from the aftereffects of the pleasure. he reaches out, his large, warm hand gently patting the top of your head, his fingers lightly smoothing down your messy hair. "don't look at me like that. you didn't do anything wrong."
you look up at him through your bangs, your heart still thumping softly. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have..."
"it's fine," jay interrupts softly, a faint, tired but genuinely warm smile touching his lips. his hand slides down from your head to rest gently on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "you're a fast learner, newbie. really fast. you passed the lesson."
he sits there, his hand warm and heavy on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing a slow, comforting circle into your shirt. it’s a soft, lingering moment of aftercare that feels entirely too domestic, entirely too real for a simple tutoring session. and as you look at his gentle smile, your hand still warm from his skin, the lie about jake feels smaller and more pathetic than it ever has before.
-------
when thursday afternoon rolls around, the tension inside your chest is so thick you can barely swallow. the walk to the west quad feels different today; the golden armor of your excuses is getting heavier, cracking, but the raw curiosity burning in your veins is too loud to ignore.
when you knock on the door to room 314, jay opens it almost instantly. he’s wearing a loose, dark gray t-shirt and light gray sweatpants, his dark hair falling messy across his forehead. his eyes immediately lock onto yours, a quiet, intense gravity in his gaze that lets you know he hasn't forgotten a single second of tuesday's handjob lesson either.
"come in, newbie," jay murmurs, stepping aside.
you walk in and immediately sit cross-legged in the center of his unmade bed, your hands tucked between your knees to hide how much they’re shaking. jay closes the door, the heavy click sealing the two of you in the quiet, sandalwood-scented dimness of his room.
he doesn't sit in his desk chair. he walks straight to the edge of the mattress, standing right in front of you, looking down with his hands shoved casually into his sweatpants pockets. "alright. lesson seven. what are we breaking down today?"
you look up at him, your cheeks instantly exploding into a fierce, burning crimson. you swallow hard, your fingers twisting together as you force the words out. "i... i want to learn how to give a blowjob. you explained the theory on tuesday, but... i’ve always been curious about how the actual tongue work and depth feel. i want the practical example, jay."
jay’s entire posture locks up. his eyes darken significantly, a sudden, heavy wave of heat rolling off his body as he stares down at your flushed, determined face. he takes a slow, ragged breath through his nose, his jaw clenching tightly.
"newbie," jay rasps, his voice incredibly deep and rough. "are you absolutely sure about this? once we cross this line, there’s no turning back."
"i'm sure," you whisper, looking him straight in the eye.
jay doesn't say another word. he slowly pulls his hands out of his pockets and sits down on the edge of the bed, right in front of you. with a low, deliberate rustle of fabric, he pushes his sweatpants down, freeing his thick, fully erect length. he is already pulsing, a heavy, dark flush painting his white-hot skin.
"get down on your knees between my legs," jay commands softly, his voice remarkably patient, completely ridden of his usual mocking tone
you slide off the mattress, sinking onto your knees on the hardwood floor right between his thighs. your face is level with his lap, the raw heat of his arousal radiating against your cheeks.
"now, look at me," jay whispers, his large, warm hand rising to gently cup the back of your head, his long fingers tangling into your hair to steady you. "remember what i said. keep your lips curled completely over your teeth. let me feel your tongue first. swirl it right around the head."
you lean in, your hands hesitantly resting on the top of his firm thighs for balance. you slowly extend your tongue, dragging the wet, warm tip in a slow circle around the sensitive rim of his crown.
"oh— fuck," jay lets out a sharp, ragged gasp, his head immediately tossing back, his eyes fluttering shut as a deep shiver ripples through his lower half. his fingers tighten gently in your hair. "yes. just like that, baby. you're so warm, you feel so good."
"now, open up a little more," jay murmurs, his dark eyes snapping open to look down at you, clouded with an intense, suffocating pleasure. "take the top half in. use the roof of your mouth to create a gentle suction. don't rush the depth yet."
you part your lips, curling them firmly over your teeth as he instructed, and slowly slide your mouth over the thick, smooth head of his shaft. the sudden warmth and tightness of your mouth makes jay let out a low, broken moan deep in his chest. you pull back slightly, then slide forward again, your tongue swirling against him with every movement.
"you're doing so good, newbie," jay praises you, his voice a low, breathy rumble right above your head. his hand in your hair is incredibly sweet, gently guiding your rhythm, pacing your movements so you don’t choke. "you're so pretty looking up at me like that. god, you're perfect."
hearing him call you pretty makes a violent, hot flash of adrenaline surge through you. you grow bolder, sliding your mouth a little further down, letting your throat adapt to the thickness. you manage your breathing, taking steady, short inhales through your nose as your mouth works rhythmically against him.
the clinical nature of the lesson completely shatters. jay’s control begins to dangerously fracture under the wet, tight heat of your mouth. his breathing turns shallow and frantic, his chest heaving under his t-shirt as his hips instinctively lift, thrusting a fraction deeper into your mouth with a heavy, unvarnished desperation.
"shit, look at you," jay groans out, a ragged, completely ungrounded swear escaping his lips as his grip on your hair tightens just enough to hold you in place. his eyes are locked onto yours, blazing with a raw, possessive hunger as you look up at him through your lashes. "look at you, sucking me off so good... fuck, sweetheart, you're driving me insane."
the explicit praise sends a jolt of pure electricity straight down your spine. you wrap your right hand around the base of his shaft, sliding it up and down in sync with the heavy suction of your mouth, creating a flawless, dual stimulation that completely breaks his remaining restraint.
jay let out a deep, guttural cry, his jaw clenching so hard the veins stand out against his neck, his hips moving faster, more rapidly against your mouth as he inches closer and closer to the edge.
"hold on— hold on, baby, stop," jay suddenly rasps, his breathing completely shattered. he gently but firmly pulls your head back by your hair, his chest heaving as he draws a long, shaky breath.
you blink up at him, your lips wet and flushed a deep red, your heart thumping violently. jay stares down at your face, his eyes incredibly heavy, full of a fierce, protective softness that completely melts his sharp features.
slowly, he reaches down, his thumb gently wiping away a drop of moisture from the corner of your mouth. a faint, breathless, and incredibly tender smile on his lips.
"you're a genius, newbie," jay whispers, his voice beautifully rough as he lightly taps your cheek. "lesson concluded. you're officially too good for this campus."
-------
when you arrive for the next lesson, the atmospheric pressure inside room 314 feels entirely different. the standard conversational buffer — the casual banter about classes, the lingering ghost of a mention of jake — is completely gone. when jay opens the door, he doesn’t say his usual witty greeting. he just looks at you, his dark eyes heavy and remarkably soft, and reaches down to gently take your bag from your hand, setting it by the desk.
"hey," he murmurs, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly timbre that instantly makes your pulse flutter.
"hey," you whisper back.
he closes the door with a quiet, deliberate click, locking it before turning back to you. he’s wearing a simple black t-shirt that clings to his broad shoulders, and his hair is a little messy, falling perfectly over his forehead. he doesn't wait for you to sit on the edge of the mattress; instead, he takes your hand, his long, warm fingers sliding effortlessly between yours, and guides you to the middle of the bed.
"we've spent a lot of time breaking down what makes a guy lose his mind," jay says softly, sitting down right in front of you, his knees brushing against your thighs. his free hand reaches up, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw, tilting your face up so you're forced to look directly into his eyes. "but that's only half the mechanics, newbie. you need to know what feels good for you, too. you need to know how your body reacts when someone is completely focused on you."
your breath catches, a fierce, sudden heat blooming across your chest. "jay..."
"i'm going to go slow, okay?" he interrupts gently, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners with a reassuring, incredibly tender smile. "no rushing. i'm going to teach you exactly how you're supposed to be touched."
he leans forward, his lips pressing softly against your forehead, then your temple, before trailing down to the sensitive column of your neck. a violent, delicious shiver ripples through your entire body as he kisses his way back up to your jawline, his lips warm and unhurried.
"lay down for me, sweetheart," jay whispers against your skin, his hands moving to your waist to gently guide you back onto the pillows.
you slide down, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs as jay shifts, hovering over you, supported by his elbows on either side of your head. his gaze rakes over your flushed face, his expression so fiercely loving and sweet it makes your chest ache. he reaches down, his large, warm hand sliding under the hem of your top, his palm resting flat against the bare skin of your stomach. you let out a soft, sharp inhale at the sudden friction.
"just breathe," jay praises you, his voice a soft, comforting rumble as his fingers trail lower, gently nudging the waistband of your shorts. "let me do the work."
slowly, deliberately, he eases your clothes down, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs to the dim, warm air of the room. you instinctively try to pull your knees together, a sudden wave of shyness hitting you, but jay gently presses them apart, sliding his body between your legs to anchor you. he doesn't look away; his eyes stay locked onto yours as his fingers softly brush against the inner skin of your thigh, moving upward with agonizingly slow, light strokes.
"you are so beautiful, newbie," he murmurs, leaning down to press a deep, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting you fully before trailing his mouth down to your collarbone. "so pretty for me."
when his hand finally reaches the center of your heat, you let out a breathless, broken gasp, your fingers instantly clutching at the fabric of his t-shirt. his fingers are warm, incredibly gentle as they find the small, sensitive bundle of nerves. he starts with light, circular motions, his thumb sliding over the slick skin with a practiced, effortless rhythm.
"there you go," jay whispers against your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he tracks the sudden, erratic hitch in your breathing. "feel that? that's the baseline. you just stay relaxed, let the heat build."
he introduces a single finger, sliding it slowly into your tight, wet heat. a soft, helpless moan escapes your throat, your hips instinctively lifting against his hand. jay lets out a low, rough hum of absolute approval deep in his chest, his finger moving in a slow, curling motion that targets a deep, heavy ache you didn't even know was there.
"look at me, sweetheart," he commands softly. you blink your eyes open, your vision slightly blurry from the sheer intensity of it, to find him staring down at you with an unvarnished, consuming intensity. "you're doing so good. you're so wet for me."
he continues the rhythm, his fingers moving inside you with a steady, heavy pace while his thumb keeps a relentless, agonizingly perfect pressure on your core. you feel the tension building rapidly, a hot, tight knot coiling tightly in your lower stomach. your hands tangle deep into his dark hair, pulling him closer as your breathing turns shallow and desperate.
"jay... jay," you whimpered, completely ungrounded by the overwhelming sensation.
"i've got you," he murmurs sweetly, kissing away the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. he pulls his hand away for just a fraction of a second, making you let out a needy whine, before he shifts his body lower on the mattress.
he presses your knees open wider, his hands firmly gripping the undersides of your thighs to steady you. you look down through your lashes, your face burning a furious purple as jay leans his head down, his mouth replacing his fingers.
the first touch of his wet, warm tongue against your sensitive core makes your entire body arch off the mattress, a loud, unvarnished cry echoing through the quiet room. jay's hands tighten on your thighs, anchoring you completely as his tongue sweeps upward in long, firm strokes, applying a heavy, steady suction that sends a violent, electric current straight down your spine.
"oh my god," you sob out, your fingers desperately clutching at the bedsheets as the coiling tension inside you completely snaps.
jay doesn't stop. he works through your release, his tongue moving in a relentless, beautifully deep rhythm, drinking you in as your body trembles and shakes beneath him. he holds you steady through the intense waves, his mouth warm and unbelievably patient against your sensitive skin until the final tremors slowly begin to fade.
when he finally slides back up the mattress, his face is flushed, his dark eyes shining with a deep, triumphant softness. he pulls the blankets up over your shivering shoulders, immediately wrapping his broad arms around you and pulling your back flush against his chest in a tight, protective embrace.
he leans down, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the back of your warm neck.
"you did so perfect, newbie," jay whispers into your hair, his voice rough and beautifully thick as his large hand rests over your heart, feeling it hammer a frantic pace against his palm. "absolutely perfect."
the cool night air hits your face the moment you step out of the west quad, but it does absolutely nothing to cool the raging, white-hot fire burning beneath your skin. your limbs feel heavy, almost liquid, and every step you take on the concrete sidewalk feels strangely disconnected from reality.
the guilt catches up to you by the time you reach the campus quad. it settles into your stomach like a block of lead, heavy and suffocating.
you just had sex with jay park.
well, not full intercourse, but it was sexual. it was intimate. he touched you, he put his mouth on you, he held you through the most intense physical release of your life, and he wrapped his arms around you like you belonged to him. the raw, unvarnished memory of his wet tongue, his whispers of "sweetheart," and the protective warmth of his chest pressed against your back makes a violent shudder get to your core.
it's for jake, your brain screams, a frantic, high-pitched panic echoing in your head as you grip the straps of your tote bag until your knuckles turn white. the reason why you're doing this is for improving for jake. you're a newbie. you needed to know what a release felt like so you don't panic or freeze up when jake finally takes you to his bed. jay is just the instructor. he's a textbook. he has nothing to do with this.
but deep inside, in a dark, quiet corner of your soul that you are desperately trying to block out, you know it's a lie. you know text modules and posture corrections don't involve a guy worshiping your body until you're sobbing his name into his pillows.
still, you really try to convince yourself. you force the golden shield back into place, cementing the lie with sheer, stubborn willpower as you unlock the door to your apartment. yunjin's bedroom door is closed, the apartment blissfully dark. you tip-toe straight into your room, lock the door behind you, and collapse onto your bed without even changing out of your clothes.
the bed feels too big, too cold, and your skin is still tingling, practically begging for the touch that was just stripped away from it.
fine, you think desperately, staring up at the shadows on your ceiling. if it's for jake, prove it. fantasize about him.
your hands shake as you slide them down the denim of your shorts, slipping past the waistband to touch the lingering, hypersensitive heat between your thighs. you close your eyes tightly, forcing jake's face into your mind's eye. you picture the sweet way he ruffles your hair, the little Italian restaurant with the string lights, the gentle way he holds your hand across the table.
you start to move your fingers, replicating the exact circular rhythm jay had used on you just an hour ago. a soft, needy gasp escapes your lips into the quiet room. the heat builds rapidly, your body already primed and ready to boil over.
it's jake, you tell yourself, your breathing turning hurried as you pick up the pace. imagine jake doing this to you. imagine jake hovering over you in the dark.
you lean into the fantasy, letting the tight, coiling knot in your stomach take over. you bite your lip hard, letting your brain go insane — imagining the pretty sounds he’d make, mouth open in a slight “o” as his brows furrow, hair falling down, almost reaching that pretty nose adorned with the scar you love to feel between your—
wait.
jake doesn’t have a nose scar.
that’s jay.
your fingers freeze.
the world inside your bedroom completely grinds to a halt. you stare blankly at the dark ceiling, your hand slipping out from your shorts as if your skin had suddenly turned to ice. your heart is hammering, but it’s not from the pleasure anymore; it’s from pure, unadulterated terror.
you just pictured jay.
you were touching yourself, trying to build a future with the boy you’ve liked for months, and your brain completely bypassed him to conjure the exact, devastating image of jay park’s sharp jaw, his furrowed brows, and that tiny, pale scar cutting right across the bridge of his aristocratic nose.
a suffocating wave of reality hits you. it isn't jake. it has never been jake. not since you walked into room 314.
the next morning, the guilt is a physical sickness in your throat. you can’t look at your phone. when jake texts you a picture of a golden retriever he saw on his walk, you reply with a short, polite emoji, your stomach twisting into knots. you are entirely, completely compromised.
by monday afternoon, you know what you have to do. you can't keep going to room 314. if you walk back into that room, if you let him put his hands on your waist one more time, you will never be able to look jake sim in the eye again. you will lose the entire script.
with shaking thumbs, you open your chat with jay.
you: hey jay. i think we should stop the lessons. i think i have everything i need now. thank you for everything.
you hit send and immediately flip your phone face-down on your duvet, burying your face in your hands. you expect him to reply with his usual lazy, arrogant ‘sure thing, newbie’. you expect him to be relieved that his tutoring duties are officially over.
but three minutes later, your phone buzzes. then it buzzes again. and again.
jay: what do you mean? jay: did something happen? jay: newbie answer your phone. if i did something on thursday to make you uncomfortable you need to tell me. i told you we could go at your pace. did i pressure you?
the sheer, frantic panic in his messages makes your throat tighten. the cool, unbothered, perfectly composed jay park is completely gone, replaced by someone who sounds genuinely, deeply terrified that he hurt you.
you bite your lip, a stray tear slipping down your cheek as you type back.
you: no! no, jay, you didn't do anything wrong at all. you were perfect. it's just... things are getting serious with jake. he asked me out again this weekend. and since jake was the original purpose of the whole thing... i need to focus on him now. i have to be fair to him.
you watch the screen. the three little typing dots appear almost instantly. then they disappear. then they appear again. the silence stretching between your apartments feels agonizing.
finally, the phone buzzes one last time.
jay: right. the original purpose. jay: i get it. good luck this weekend, newbie. drive him crazy.
the text is so clinical, so brief, it feels like a physical slap. he doesn't fight it. he doesn't tease you. he just steps back into the box of the "instructor," closing the lid firmly behind him.
-------
the rest of the week passes in a gray, heavy blur. you don't go to the west quad. you take the long way around the library just so you don't have to risk seeing his tall silhouette walking past the glass windows.
friday night arrives, and you're sitting at the vanity in your bedroom, curling your hair for your second official date with jake. yunjin is leaning against your doorframe, watching you with a slight, curious frown.
"you're quiet today," yunjin notes, crossing her arms. "usually before a jake date you're bouncing off the walls. didn't your theoretical lessons with jay give you a confidence boost?"
"they did," you lie softly, your eyes fixed on your reflection. "i'm just... focused."
"well, jay's been acting weird too," yunjin shrugs, turning back toward the living room. "saw him at the student union yesterday. he looked like he hadn't slept in four days. completely tuned out."
your grip on the curling iron tightens so hard your palm aches. he's fine, you tell yourself desperately. he's jay park. he's glad to have his bed back to himself.
an hour later, you're sitting across from jake at a trendy, low-lit taco place downtown. the restaurant is loud, music bouncing off the brick walls. jake is looking at you with that sweet, boyish grin, talking animatedly about his soccer coach's ridiculous training schedule.
he's perfect. he's everything you wanted.
but as the noise of the restaurant swells, jake leans across the small wooden table, his face closing the distance to say something over the music. your brain immediately fires a memory — the heavy weight of jay's chest pressed against your back, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his low voice whispering 'we're in a quiet room, stop playing games with me.'
"hey," jake says, his hand reaching out to lightly tap your wrist. "you there? you looked like you were a million miles away."
"i'm here," you say, forcing a bright, sweet smile onto your face. "sorry, just listening."
when the date ends, jake walks you all the way back to your apartment building. the air on the porch is cool, the dim amber light of the streetlamp casting long shadows over the brick steps. it's the exact setup from a week ago. the final act.
jake stands close, his dark eyes looking down at you with a soft, undeniable affection. he reaches out, his fingers gently tucking a stray curl behind your ear. his hand is nice. it's sweet.
"i had a really great time tonight," jake whispers, leaning in slowly.
your heart spikes, your body automatically going rigid as you realize it’s happening. this is it. the practical application. jake tilts his head, his eyes dropping to your mouth before closing as he bridges the final inch.
his lips press against yours.
it is a perfectly nice kiss. it's gentle, polite, and safe. but as jake's mouth moves against yours, your brain does absolutely nothing. there is no white-hot rush of electricity. there is no heavy, suffocating gravity pulling at your soul. your hands stay flat against your sides, entirely lacking the desperate urge to slide beneath his shirt, to grip his broad shoulders, to tangle into his hair.
jake pulls back after a few seconds, a sweet, satisfied smile on his face. "goodnight," he murmurs, ruffling your hair gently before turning to walk down the steps.
you stand on the porch in the quiet night air, staring at his retreating back. your lips feel completely cold. your skin feels entirely empty. and as you turn the key in your apartment lock, a crushing, definitive truth finally breaks through the last of your defenses.
the lessons didn't prepare you for jake sim. they ruined you for anyone who isn't jay park.
-------
you keep trying.
you really, truly do. you go on a third date with jake to an indie movie theater, and a fourth date where he cooks dinner for you at his apartment. he is everything a boyfriend should be — attentive, sweet, incredibly handsome, and completely respectful. but every time he holds your hand, your fingers feel numb. every time he leans down to kiss you goodnight on your porch, your mind is a completely flat, silent room.
there are no shivers. there is no gravelly voice whispering “breathe, newbie” against your skin. there is no heavy, intoxicating scent of sandalwood.
you are physically with jake sim, but you are entirely haunted by jay park.
you miss him. you miss him so much it feels like a physical ache in the center of your chest. you miss the arrogant, lazy smirks that you eventually learned how to kiss right off his face. you miss the way his large, warm hands felt sliding underneath your sweater. you miss the breathless, quiet aftercare where he would just stroke your hair and tell you you did perfect.
you haven't received a single text from him in two weeks. your chat history sits at the bottom of your messages, a cold, clinical reminder of "the original purpose."
then comes tuesday afternoon.
you’re sitting on the living room rug of your apartment, your knees pulled to your chest as you stare blankly at a textbook you haven't actually read a page of in thirty minutes. yunjin is sitting on the couch right behind you, painting her toenails a vibrant shade of cherry red.
the apartment is completely quiet except for the rhythmic swipe, swipe of her nail brush.
"hey," yunjin speaks up suddenly, not looking up from her pinky toe. "so, i ran into jake at the gym earlier today."
your shoulders instantly tighten. "oh. yeah?"
"yeah. he was glowing, honestly," yunjin says, finally capping the nail polish and leaning back against the cushions. she looks down at the top of your head, her sharp eyes narrowing in a familiar, hyper-observant squint. "he said things are going amazingly with you. he literally told me you're the most perfect, sweet girl he’s ever met."
you let out a tiny, hollow sound that is supposed to be a laugh, but it sounds incredibly sad. "that's... nice."
"so..." yunjin trails off, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. her voice drops into a lighter, teasing tone. "come on. spill. how are the advanced lessons going? did jay's theoretical tutoring actually work? did he give you the magic playbook or what?"
at the mention of his name, something inside you completely snaps.
the two weeks of suffocating guilt, the crushing weight of the lies, the phantom feeling of jay's mouth on yours, and the sheer, exhausting misery of pretending to be happy with jake all come crashing down at once. your eyes suddenly sting with hot, angry tears, and a shaky, broken sob escapes your throat before you can even think to mask it.
yunjin freezes. her jaw practically drops to the floor as she watches your shoulders violently shake, your face burying themselves into your knees.
"wait— oh my god, hey," yunjin stammers, instantly sliding off the couch and dropping to the rug beside you. she wraps a panicked arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "what's wrong? did jake do something? did he hurt you? i will literally fight him right now—"
"no!" you sob out, your voice muffled and thick with tears as you shake your head against your knees. "no, jake didn't do anything! jake is perfect! he's so sweet!"
"then why are you crying like someone died?" yunjin asks, completely bewildered, her hand rubbing your back in a comforting motion. "if jake is perfect, what's wrong?"
you lift your head, your face a catastrophic, tear-stained shade of purple, your chest heaving as you look at your best friend.
"it's jay," you choke out, the truth finally tearing its way out of your chest.
yunjin blinks, her eyebrows furrowing in deep confusion. "jay? jay park? what does he have to do with you crying about jake?"
"the lessons," you whisper, a fresh wave of tears spilling over your lashes. "they... they weren't theoretical, yunjin. i lied to you. i lied to everyone."
yunjin’s entire body goes completely still. her grip on your shoulder tightens as she stares at you, the dots in her highly perceptive brain suddenly trying to connect a picture she never expected to see. "what do you mean they weren't theoretical?"
"we... we did a practical lesson, a lot of them, actually," you confess, your voice cracking with pure, unadulterated embarrassment, but the relief of finally saying it out loud is a physical weight lifting off your lungs. "the first few weeks were just talking, but then... when he was telling me how to kiss someone correctly, i panicked because i thought i'd be bad at kissing jake. so i asked jay for a real example. and he kissed me."
yunjin’s eyes widen to the size of literal dinner saucers. "jay kissed you?"
"yes," you whine, covering your face with your hands. "and then it happened again. and again. and then we started meeting almost every single day. we weren't even studying anymore, yunjin. i would sit on his lap for a whole hour and we just made out on and on. and then last week... we... we did some more things, and he showed me what felt good for me, too. with his hands, and his— his mouth."
yunjin lets out a sharp, breathless gasp, her hand flying over her mouth. she looks completely, utterly flabbergasted, her jaw practically unhinged. "oh my god. oh my god. you and jay... you guys were sleeping together?"
"not all the way! but yes!" you cry out, pulling your hands away from your face, looking at her desperately. "and the whole time, i kept telling myself it was for jake. i kept saying 'oh, i'm just a newbie getting hands-on experience so i can be good for jake'. i even tried to touch myself thinking about jake afterwards, but yunjin... when i closed my eyes, all i could see was jay. i saw his face, and his hair, and his nose scar."
yunjin is staring at you like you’ve just spoken to her in a foreign language. she is completely speechless, processing the absolute bombshell you just dropped into her living room.
"so... so i stopped the lessons, everything," you whisper, your voice dropping to a broken, miserable murmur as you look down at your lap. "i texted him and told him i had to focus on jake. and he just said okay. and now i'm going on these dates with jake, and he's so nice, yunjin, he really is... but i… don't feel anything. when jake kisses me, it's just... cold. i don't want jake to touch me. i just want jay. i miss him so much it hurts, and i'm a horrible person because i used him as a textbook and now i've completely ruined everything."
you bury your face back in your hands, your shoulders shaking as you let the final wave of tears take over, waiting for yunjin to lecture you, to tell you how reckless you were, or to tell you how completely messy this entire situation is.
instead, yunjin lets out a long, slow, and incredibly deep exhale. she reaches out, gently pulling your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at her. the initial shock on her face has melted away, replaced by a look of sheer, unbelievable realization.
"my love," yunjin says slowly, her voice completely serious. "are you actually an idiot?"
you blink through your tears, sniffing. "what?"
"you think you used jay park?" yunjin asks, letting out a wild, disbelieving laugh. "are we talking about the same jay park? the guy who has half the girls on the humanities campus begging for a text back? the guy who doesn't let anyone into his personal space, let alone his dorm room?"
you wipe your eyes with the back of your sleeve, confused. "but... it was a casual thing. he was just being a good instructor..."
"oh my god, you are a literal child," yunjin groans, throwing her hands up in the air. "listen to me. jay fucking park did not give you a 'practical lesson' because he cares about your future with jake sim. he did not spend an hour letting you straddle his lap and eat his face because he’s a dedicated tutor. he did those things because he is completely, utterly obsessed with you, you absolute moron!"
the conversation with yunjin stays ringing in your ears for the rest of the week, a loud, echoing truth that makes your chest feel completely hollow. he is completely, utterly obsessed with you. you want to believe it. god, you want to believe it so bad, but the memory of his final text — ‘good luck this weekend, newbie. drive him crazy.’ — stands like a massive brick wall between you and room 314.
and then, jake texts you.
it’s not a casual, low-effort ‘grab coffee?’ or a late-night invite to watch him play soccer. he sends a long, beautifully constructed message, asking you on a proper, official date to a high-end jazz lounge downtown that requires a reservation weeks in advance. he tells you he’s been noticing your new confidence lately — the way you hold yourself, the lingering eye contact, the ease in your posture — and that he likes you. a lot. he wants to make things official.
a month ago, a text like that would have made you collapse onto your bedroom floor in pure, unadulterated ecstasy. it was the ultimate finish line. the exact gold medal you had been sweating and crying for under jay's brutal, meticulous guidance.
so, you say yes. you force yourself to put on your prettiest dress, you spend an hour doing your makeup, and you walk down the steps of your building to meet jake’s car.
the jazz lounge is beautiful. the dim, amber lighting reflects off the polished mahogany tables, the music is soft and smooth, and jake looks incredibly handsome in a dark blazer. he handles the evening perfectly. he pulls out your chair, he orders the best wine on the menu, and he looks at you with a heavy, sweet admiration that makes your cheeks warm.
"you look absolutely stunning tonight," jake murmurs, reaching across the white tablecloth to gently squeeze your fingers. "honestly, i feel like a different girl walked down the steps today. you've always been gorgeous, but lately... there's just something about you. you're so captivating."
you force a soft smile, nodding your head. "thank you, jake. that's... really sweet."
but as his fingers linger on yours, the crushing reality of the evening finally settles over you.
it’s nice. it’s objectively perfect. but it feels completely, utterly empty.
you sit there, listening to the saxophone player on the stage, and you find yourself looking at the way jake laughs. it’s a nice laugh, but it doesn't make your stomach do a violent, hot flip. you look at his hands, and you realize you don't have the slightest urge to slip your fingers beneath his cuffs. you look at his lips, and the thought of his mouth on yours doesn't make your breath catch.
and in that exact, agonizing moment, the grand illusion you've been clinging to for weeks finally shatters into a million jagged pieces.
you aren't projecting. you aren't using jay as a proxy.
you are deeply, completely, and irrevocably in love with park jay.
the realization hits you with the force of a physical blow, making your breath leave your lungs in a sharp, silent gasp. it isn't just about the mechanics or the white-hot heat of his mattress. it’s the way his dark eyes soften into a fierce, protective warmth whenever you look up at him through your lashes. it’s the patient, steady way he guides you when you panic, never pushing, always making sure you feel safe. it’s the quiet, breathless aftercare where he brushes the hair from your forehead, calling you sweetheart in a voice so thick and honest it makes your soul ache. it’s the easy, effortless way you laugh together between the heavy tension, the real, undeniable connection that you built brick by brick in that small, sandalwood-scented dorm room.
jay didn't teach you how to love jake sim. jay taught you how to love him.
"hey," jake's voice breaks through your thoughts, his brow furrowing with genuine concern as he leans in closer. "are you okay? you're really pale suddenly."
you look at jake — at his kind, sweet face — and you realize that staying here, pretending to be the girl he wants, is the cruelest thing you could possibly do to him. you can't live a lie anymore. the script is over.
"jake," you whisper, your voice trembling as you gently pull your hand back from his grip. "i'm... i'm so sorry. i can't do this."
jake blinks, completely caught off guard. "what? did i say something wrong?"
"no, you're perfect," you say, a tear finally spilling over your lashes as you grab your purse from the back of the chair. "you are absolutely wonderful, jake, i swear. but... my heart is somewhere else. it’s been somewhere else for a long time, and it’s not fair to keep dragging you into it. i’m so, so sorry."
before he can even process the words, you stand up from the table and walk — almost run — straight out of the jazz lounge, leaving the music behind you.
the moment you hit the cool night air of the sidewalk, you don't call a cab. you don't go back to your apartment to cry to yunjin. you sprint.
your heels click loudly against the concrete as you rush toward the west quad, your lungs burning, your heart hammering a desperate, terrifying rhythm against your ribs. the wind completely ruins your curled hair, and your breath comes in short, ragged gasps, but you don't care. the only thing that matters is the distance between you and room 314, and you need to eliminate it right now.
you burst through the heavy glass doors of his building, practically flying up the stairs three at a time because the elevator is too slow, too claustrophobic for the sudden, desperate panic roaring through your veins.
you reach the third floor, your chest heaving as you run down the carpeted hallway until you're standing directly in front of his heavy wooden door.
you don't wait to compose yourself. you don't brace your shoulders or try to be normal. you lift your shaking hand and knock against the wood, loudly, your whole body trembling in the quiet corridor.
the heavy wooden door swings open almost immediately, the sudden movement revealing jay standing in the entryway. he’s wearing an oversized black hoodie and matching sweatpants, his dark hair messy as if he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly.
the second his dark eyes lock onto you, he freezes. his gaze sweeps over your ruined curls, the formal dress you’re wearing, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and the fresh tears spilling over your cheeks.
"newbie?" jay rasps, his voice completely stripping of its usual calm, unbothered composure. he steps forward, his hands instantly coming up to hover near your shoulders, completely shocked. "what— what are you doing here? why are you crying? did something happen with jake? did he hurt you? i swear to god i'll kill—"
"i'm in love with you," you blurts out, the words tearing out of your throat in a shaky, breathless sob before he can even finish his sentence.
jay stops dead in his tracks. his hands freeze in mid-air, his jaw dropping open just a fraction as his entire body goes completely rigid. the quiet corridor feels extremely silent, the heavy weight of your words hanging in the space between you.
"i'm in love with you," you repeat, a fresh wave of hot tears blurring your vision as you look up at his face. you feel incredibly shy, completely stripped of your armor, your voice dropping to a small, trembling whisper. "i went on the date with jake. he was perfect, jay. he took me to that jazz lounge, and he held my hand, and he told me i was beautiful... but it felt completely empty. i didn't want him to touch me. i didn't want him to kiss me. because the whole time, the only person i could think about was you. i thought about how you look at me, and how safe i feel when you hold me, and... and i realized i've been lying to myself for weeks. i don't want jake. i want you. i've always wanted you."
jay stares down at you, his expression completely blank for three long, agonizing seconds. you feel a sudden, terrifying wave of panic hit your stomach, convinced you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.
then, jay’s shoulders start to shake.
he drops his head back, a sudden, sharp bark of laughter escaping his lips. he keeps laughing, a breathless, rough sound that makes your heart sink into your shoes. he’s laughing at me, you think completely mortified, stepping back a fraction. yunjin was wrong, he thinks i'm pathetic—
before you can even take a full step away, jay moves.
his large hands shoot forward, wrapping securely around your waist, and with one heavy, desperate pull, he yanks you forward into his dorm room. the door slams shut behind you with a loud, final click, and suddenly, you are crushed completely against his broad chest.
jay wraps his strong arms around you, burying his face deep into the crook of your neck, holding you so tight it’s almost bruising. you can feel the heavy, erratic thumping of his heart against your ribs, his whole body trembling slightly as he holds you like you’re about to disappear.
"jay?" you squeak out, your hands hesitantly coming up to clutch at the thick fabric of his black hoodie.
"i'm not laughing at you, newbie," jay murmurs against your skin, his voice thick, ragged, and completely devoid of his usual arrogance. he lets out another low, disbelieving chuckle right into your hair, his grip tightening. "i'm just... i'm in complete disbelief. i can't believe you're actually standing here saying this to me."
he slowly draws his head back, keeping his large hands firmly anchored on your waist so you can't move away. his dark eyes are incredibly heavy, looking down at your tear-stained face with a raw, consuming tenderness that completely melts your heart.
"you are such a moron," jay whispers, a soft, beautiful smile finally breaking across his sharp features. "you really thought this was all just a clinical lesson for me? you think i let you straddle my lap for a whole hour because i'm a dedicated tutor?"
you sniff, looking up at him through your lashes. "yunjin said..."
"yunjin was right," jay interrupts softly, his thumb rising to gently wipe away a stray tear from your cheek, his touch unbelievably sweet. "i’ve liked you for weeks, sweetheart. even a month, probably. do you have any idea what it was like for me to sit in that chair and listen to you ramble on about jake sim every single week? i hated it. i hated every single time his name left your mouth. i wanted to throw him across the campus every time you showed me a text from him."
you blink, your heart spiking. "then why didn't you say anything?"
"because i was terrified," jay admits honestly, his jaw clenching slightly as his dark eyes lock onto yours. "you came to me so innocent, so focused on this dream you had of being with him. i was so scared that if i told you how i felt, i would pressure you. i was scared i'd ruin your confidence, or make you feel trapped in the lessons. i didn't want to hurt your feelings. so when you texted me on monday saying you were done..."
he pauses, his breathing turning shallow as he leans his forehead lightly against yours, his hot breath fanning across your lips.
"i was resigned," he whispers, his voice dropping to a gravelly, vulnerable register. "i decided to just let you go to him. i thought, if jake makes her happy, i'll just step back and let her have her perfect boyfriend. it almost killed me, newbie. i haven't slept a full hour since monday."
hearing his confession makes your chest ache with a sudden, overwhelming wave of love. you lift your hands, your fingers tangling deep into the soft, dark hair at the back of his neck, pulling him that final, microscopic inch closer.
"you don't have to let me go," you whisper directly against his lips. "i'm right here."
"yeah," jay murmurs, his dark eyes flashing with that familiar, possessive heat right before his mouth crashes onto yours. "you're right here."
the weight of his confession still hangs in the air of his room, but the heavy emotional armor you’ve both been wearing for weeks has completely shattered. your fingers are knotted so tightly in the dark hair at the back of his neck that your knuckles ache, your body pulling flush against his broad chest until there is absolutely no space left between you.
jay doesn't give you a single second to breathe. the moment your lips touch, the familiar, intoxicating taste of him rushes over you, but this time, the desperate restraint he had been clinging to during the "lessons" is completely gone. his mouth crashes into yours with a raw, possessive hunger that makes your knees instantly turn to water. it isn't a demonstration. it isn't a baseline. it is a fierce, consuming claim that leaves you both dizzy.
"jay," you gasp against his lips, a soft, helpless sound escaping your throat as his mouth slides hungrily down your jawline, his teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin right beneath your ear.
"i've got you," jay rasps, his voice an incredibly deep, gravelly vibration against your neck. "i've got you, sweetheart. you're not going anywhere."
his large hands slide down from your waist, his broad palms gripping the undersides of your thighs with a sudden, bruising force. with one effortless, powerful lift, jay hoists you completely off the ground. you let out a sharp gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries you the three short steps over to his bed, collapsing both of you onto the unmade blankets.
the impact is soft, but the physical heat between you is instantly blinding. jay hovers directly over you, his heavy frame anchoring you to the mattress, his dark hair falling messy across his forehead as he looks down at your flushed, breathless face. his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, blazing with a fierce, protective intensity that makes your heart thump wildly against your ribs.
"look at you," jay whispers, his chest heaving under his black hoodie as his thumb traces the swollen, red curve of your bottom lip. "you're actually here. in my bed. telling me you want me."
"i do," you breathe out, your hands sliding beneath the hem of his hoodie to press your bare palms flat against the warm, defined muscles of his lower back. "i want you so bad, jay."
a low, ragged growl catches in his throat at the touch of your bare skin. he leans back down, his mouth devouring yours in a deep, wet, frantic rhythm that completely shatters the last of your control. his tongue slides possessively over yours, guiding your mouth to open wider, drinking in every single soft, broken moan you make.
the physical friction escalates instantly. jay shifts his weight, his heavy hips settling right between your thighs, the thick, rigid length of his arousal pressing hard through his sweatpants directly against your core. your dress is hiked up around your waist, leaving only the thin fabric of your underwear between your bodies. instinctively, a desperate, white-hot hunger takes over your body, and your hips tilt upward, a slow, heavy grind against his lap as you chase the unbearable pressure.
"fuck," jay groans directly into your mouth, his eyes flying shut as his entire body goes completely rigid at the sudden friction. his hands move to your hips, his long fingers digging into your skin to hold you still, but the desperate, needy roll of your pelvis makes a rough, unvarnished swear escape his lips. "newbie... shit, hold on. you're going to break me."
"no," you whine, your hands slipping out from his hoodie to clutch tightly at his broad shoulders, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him through your lashes. "don't stop, jay. please. i've been thinking about this for weeks."
the admission completely breaks his remaining restraint. jay lets out a sharp, ragged exhale and lets his hips move, matching your upward tilts with a heavy, rhythmic grind of his own. the dry humping is agonizingly perfect, the thick, hard pressure of his length rubbing relentlessly against your hyper-sensitive core through the fabric of his clothes. every single slide makes your head spin, your fingers digging deep into the soft cotton of his hoodie as you arch your back off the mattress, a loud, unvarnished cry echoing through the quiet room.
"yes, just like that," jay murmurs, his voice a ragged, breathless rasp as he buries his face back in your neck, his lips pressing a trail of burning, wet kisses along your collarbone. "let me feel you. god, you're so hot, sweetheart. you feel so fucking good."
he shifts the angle of his hips, grinding harder, deeper, targeting the exact spot that makes your whole body tremble. you lose all track of time, completely drowning in the suffocating heat of his body, the rough friction between your thighs, and the intoxicating, raw intimacy of hearing him lose his mind beneath your touch. his chest is heaving violently against yours, his breathing shallow and rough as his hips thrust down in a fast, desperate rhythm that brings you both dangerously close to the edge.
"jay," you sob out, your head tossing back against the pillows, your core weeping with a desperate, heavy ache that dry humping can no longer satisfy. "jay, please. i don't want the clothes anymore. i want to feel you. really feel you."
jay stops his movement instantly. he draws back, his chest rising and falling in deep, ragged gasps as he looks down at you. his face is flushed, his eyes clouded with a fierce, overwhelming hunger, but beneath the passion, that deep, protective tenderness returns with a beautiful clarity.
"newbie," he whispers, his hands gently framing your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears from your cheeks. "are you sure? your first time... i want it to be perfect for you. i don't want to rush this."
"i'm sure," you say, your voice remarkably steady despite the anxious beating of your heart. you look straight into his dark eyes, your fingers rising to gently trace the tiny pale scar on his nose that had given the lie away. "i love you, jay. i want it to be you. teach me the rest."
a profound, heavy silence settles over the room, the raw emotion of your words melting away the last remnants of the old "lessons." this isn't an educational baseline anymore. this is a confession, a complete surrender, and jay handles it with a reverence that makes your eyes sting with happy tears.
"okay," jay whispers, his voice dropping into a soft, beautifully thick register. "okay, sweetheart."
slowly, deliberately, he sits back on his heels. his large, warm hands move to the hem of your dress, gently and carefully sliding the fabric up over your hips, your waist, and over your head, tossing it onto the floor. his eyes track the movement, his gaze raking over your exposed skin with an unvarnished, breathless admiration that makes you feel completely worshiped. he reaches down, his long fingers hooking into the sides of your underwear, easing them down your legs until you are completely bare beneath him.
"you are so beautiful," jay murmurs, his voice shaking slightly as he leans down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your bare stomach. "absolutely perfect."
he stands up briefly, pulling the black hoodie over his head and kicking his sweatpants away, revealing his broad, heavily defined chest and the thick, white-hot length of his arousal. when he slides back onto the mattress, the sheer, raw heat of his naked skin making contact with yours sends a violent shock of adrenaline through your veins.
he hovers over you again, but this time, he doesn't immediately move to progress things. he takes his time. his large, warm hand slides down your side, his palm resting flat against your hip as he gently coaxes your knees apart, sliding his body between your thighs. he leans down, his mouth sealing over yours in a slow, agonizingly sweet kiss that tastes of absolute devotion. his fingers slide down, finding the slick, dripping heat between your legs, and he uses two fingers to slowly stroke your core, priming you, making sure you are completely prepared for him.
"relax for me," jay whispers against your lips, his thumb applying a steady, heavy pressure that makes your hips instinctively lift. "i'm going to go so slow, sweetheart. if it hurts, you tell me to stop. understand?"
"i understand," you whimper, your fingers tangling into his dark hair, pulling his face down so you can kiss him again.
jay pulls his hand away, the sudden loss of contact making you let out a needy whine, but then you feel the heavy, smooth head of his shaft aligning directly against your tight, wet opening. the sheer thickness of him makes your breath hitch, your hands instantly clutching at the firm muscles of his shoulders.
"look at me," jay commands softly, his voice a low, gravelly purr.
you blink your eyes open, your vision slightly blurry from the sheer intensity of the moment, to find him staring down at you with a consuming, fierce possessiveness. his dark eyes are entirely focused on yours, locking you in place.
slowly, with an agonizingly careful, steady pressure, jay sinks his hips down.
the initial stretch is tight, a sharp, white-hot pinch of discomfort making your eyes widen as a soft, broken gasp escapes your parted lips. your body automatically tenses beneath him, your fingers digging deep into the skin of his shoulders.
instantly, jay stops. he freezes in place, only a fraction of his length inside you, his jaw clenching hard as he battles his own primal urge to thrust. a thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin, but his entire focus remains totally on your comfort.
"i know, i know," jay murmurs sweetly, his face dipping down to press a series of soft, comforting kisses to your eyelids, your burning cheeks, and the tip of your nose. "breathe through your nose, newbie. just like i taught you. let your body adapt to me."
he reaches down, his large hand finding your core again, his thumb rubbing slow, heavy circles against your sensitive skin while he stays perfectly still inside you. the steady, masterful friction slowly melts away the sharp pinch, replacing the discomfort with a deep, heavy wave of slick, throbbing heat. your muscles slowly relax, opening up around him, practically begging for the rest of his weight.
"jay," you whisper, your hips giving a tiny, tentative upward nudge. "more. please."
"good girl," jay rasps, a low, broken hum of absolute approval escaping his chest.
he shifts his hands, wrapping his long fingers securely around your waist, anchoring you to the mattress. slowly, smoothly, he pushes his hips down the rest of the way, burying his entire length deep inside your tight, wet heat. a loud, unvarnished cry tears out of your throat, your legs instinctively wrapping tightly around his waist to pull him even closer as the sheer, overwhelming fullness of him completely consumes your senses.
jay lets out a deep, guttural groan, his head burying themselves into the crook of your neck as he stays completely buried inside you for three long, breathless seconds, letting you adjust to the magnificent weight of him.
"you're so tight, sweetheart," jay whispers, his voice completely ungrounded, shaking with a raw emotion that has absolutely nothing to do with a lesson. "you feel so perfect around me. fuck. you're mine. you know that, right? you're completely mine now."
"i'm yours," you sob out, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heart beneath your fingers. "i'm yours, jay."
when he finally begins to move, it is the furthest thing from the clinical, calculated pacing of before. it is slow, incredibly deep, and heavy with a fierce, possessive passion. jay draws his hips back until he is almost entirely out, making you let out a needy, panicked gasp, before sliding back in with a long, smooth stroke that drives straight to the center of your ache.
“ah— jay!” you cry out, your head tossing back against the pillows as the relentless, deep rhythm takes over the small room.
he guides you through every single movement. when your breathing gets too frantic, jay uses his grip on your waist to lift your hips slightly, slowing the pace down, lingering deep inside you until your breath catches in sync with his. his mouth is everywhere — kissing your lips, your jaw, biting softly on your neck, leaving dark, faint marks on your skin that say louder than words exactly who you belong to.
"you're doing so good for me, baby," jay praises you, his voice a heavy rumble right against your ear. his breathing is completely shattered, his chest slick with sweat as it crushes against yours with every single deep, driving thrust. "look at you. you're taking all of me so perfectly. so pretty for me, sweetheart."
the explicit, loving praises send jolts of pure electricity straight down your spine. you grow bolder, your fingers digging into his hips as you match his pace, lifting your pelvis to meet his downward thrusts, creating a flawless, sharp friction that completely breaks his remaining restraint.
the pacing quickly turns heated, the slow tenderness fracturing beneath a sudden, overwhelming wave of raw, unadulterated passion. jay's dark brows furrow in a look of pure agony, swears escaping his lips with every single heavy, pounding thrust. he moves faster, deeper, his hips crashing against yours with a bruising, desperate force that makes the entire bed shake.
"jay... jay, i'm close," you sob out, the tight, hot knot in your lower stomach coiling so tightly you can barely breathe. your fingers tangle desperately into his damp hair, pulling him down, needing his mouth on yours as your climax approaches.
jay snaps his eyes open, his dark gaze locking onto yours with a terrifying, beautiful amount of gravity. "look at me," he rasps, his hips thrusting deep, holding you completely still beneath him. "look at me when you break, sweetheart. let me see you."
you look up through your lashes, staring straight into his cloudless, fierce eyes as he delivers three fast, incredibly deep thrusts. the coiling tension inside you completely snaps, a blinding wave of pure, white-hot release crashing over your entire body. you let out a loud, broken cry, your inner muscles clamping tightly around his length in violent, pulsing spasms.
the sudden, tight friction completely breaks jay's remaining control. he lets out a deep, guttural cry against your mouth, his jaw clenching so hard the veins stand out against his neck as his hips give one final, breathless thrust, burying himself as deep as physically possible inside you as his own release hits him.
jay stays buried deep inside you for a long moment, his chest pressed flush against your back as both of you come down from the high. his lips brush lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder, like he can’t stop touching you even now.
“are you okay, pretty?” he murmurs, voice rough and low against your skin.
you nod, still catching your breath, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “more than okay.”
he hums in satisfaction and carefully pulls out, immediately rolling you over so you’re facing him. his large hand slides up your side, gentle and possessive at the same time, as he tucks you against his chest. for a while, neither of you speaks. the only sounds are your slowing heartbeats and the distant hum of campus life outside his window.
jay’s fingers trace slow circles on your bare back.
“so,” he says after a long beat, that familiar lazy grin creeping into his voice, “how do you feel now that you’ve graduated from my lessons?”
you let out a soft laugh, hiding your burning face in the crook of his neck. “i feel like an idiot.”
“yeah?” he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. “took you long enough to figure it out.”
you pull back just enough to look at him, your fingers brushing the tiny scar on his nose. “why didn’t you say anything sooner? all those weeks… you just kept teaching me like it didn’t kill you every time i mentioned jake.”
jay’s expression softens. he cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin with surprising tenderness.
“because you came to me wanting help to get another guy,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t going to be the asshole who messed with your head while you were vulnerable. even if it sucked. even if i wanted to throw my laptop across the room every time you showed me his texts.”
he leans in and kisses you slowly, deeply — nothing like the heated frenzy from earlier. this one feels like a promise.
when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.
“for the record,” he murmurs, smiling again, “you were never going to end up with jake. not after the first time you asked me for a ‘practical example.’ i knew it then. you were already mine.”
you groan, embarrassed but smiling. “you’re so cocky.”
“and you love it.”
you do.
jay pulls the blanket higher over your shoulders and wraps both arms around you, holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. his lips brush your temple.
“no more lessons,” he whispers. “no more pretending. just this. just us.”
you press a soft kiss to his collarbone, already drifting off in the warmth of his embrace.
“just us,” you echo.
as sleep starts to pull you under, you feel jay smile against your hair.
*pairing: pervy wolf hybrid Jake x human student girl
*trope: popular playboy x nerdy girl-tutoring
*inspiration: off campus book 1
*synopsis: Jake only had one problem: History. He's always been good at any subject, especially since balancing being the captain of the football team and studying engineering is no walk in the park, but his lack of history could compromise everything, and when he saw a girl holding the text with the word 100 written on it, he realized that you could be his only chance of getting through that damned subject.
But what would it sweat if tutor sessions began to become moments where he could be himself, where you began to open up after a long time to a person and discover that jake wasn't as much of a womanizer and you weren't as broken as you thought you were?
*tags: Jake is a playboy at first but after a while you arouse his curiosity, Y/n at first is skeptical of letting Jake into her life, Y/n suffered violence in high school (I won't write anything about this act also because my stories have to be a fun) many kisses, Jake is a wolf hybrid and little by little he will become territorial but also clingy with Y/n, Y/n thinks she's broken but Jake will trust her both intimately and physically, visual masturbation, protected sex, unprotected sex (dont' horny ppl) knotting, jealousy, possession, sucking to claim Y/n, declaration, +18, little bit angst, pet names (jakey) (baby, sweetness)
The Contemporary History classroom was packed with students, and Jake was there, neither at the front nor at the back, but right in the middle, where he could observe everyone.
His knee wouldn’t stop bouncing with anxiety, his wolf ears were perked up, and his tail, just like his knee, twitched with every breath he took and you’re probably wondering: ears and a tail? Well, yes—he was a hybrid, specifically a wolf hybrid. For decades now, humans had shared everything with hybrids: from everyday jobs to school lessons, from apartments to entire neighborhoods where humans and hybrids lived side by side without resistance. Mixed couples were even trendy by now—no, more than trendy, they were fully accepted in society, especially in big cities. You could see them everywhere: in malls, restaurants, or parks, with hybrid children, kids with rabbit ears or fox tails playing alongside human ones and that sight warmed Jake’s heart more than anything, because hybrids had endured so much racial discrimination and persecution but finally, things were changing, and he had played a small part in that revolution.
In that classroom, humans were still the majority, but that was normal, especially at the university, where hybrids like him had only been admitted a few years earlier. Jake, however, was an exception: about a year ago, he’d been elected captain of the soccer team, the first hybrid to ever hold that position. Thanks to him, the number of hybrids in both recreational and competitive sports had risen. One of his best friends, Heeseung a hamster hybrid had even followed in his footsteps and become captain of the basketball team.
But back to the present: Jake was in that half-anxious state because the professor was handing back the history exams. Let’s just say that, as an engineering student, he didn’t care much for the subject—especially since it was just an elective. But it carried a lot of credits, and the reason he disliked it was simple: his engineer’s mind thrived on logic, formulas, structural calculations, and precise physical dynamics things with no room for interpretation. History, with all its dates, nuanced socio-political contexts, and long texts to memorize, just felt like a waste of time to him… even if he did find the revolutions between humans and hybrids fascinating.
Still, he needed to pass all his classes to stay captain of the university team and to catch the attention of scouts from the big professional leagues, who didn’t tolerate academic slippage. He had to be the perfect student and the perfect player. So when the professor approached his desk, her expression was almost apologetic, as if she knew the potential of the young man in front of her. Jake did have excellent grades in every subject… except hers.
The test paper slid across the wooden desk, and at the top—circled in red marker (a color that, unfortunately for him, was not in his pendant) was a glaring 45 out of 100 and to make matters worse, it wasn’t even close to passing.
The professor peered at him over her glasses and said, “Jake, I hope for your sake that next time you at least manage a basic passing grade. Otherwise, I’ll have to report this to Coach, and we all know how strict Coach Smith is about academic performance.”
He nodded, and his tail suddenly stopped moving, drooping down and tucking itself under the chair. He nearly slumped over his desk, staring at that disastrous grade. His right hand fidgeted nervously through his soft hair, right at the base of his tense ears, as if trying to ease the tension. He sighed heavily, racking his brain for solutions but there were none. All his closest friends were in different majors, and if he didn’t find a fix fast, his soccer dream would be over before it even began.
Unbeknownst to him, just a few rows away sat a girl twirling her pen, completely unbothered about her history test grade. She watched the professor intently as she moved between the desks, papers in hand.
Suddenly, you felt a sharp elbow nudge from your best friend. “Stop staring at the professor!” Allie hissed. “She probably saved your test for last, one of the first three she’s handing out just so she can praise you in front of everyone. We all know you’re the biggest nerd in here.”
You rolled your eyes, exasperated but amused, as Allie sat there sipping her fruit smoothie her latest attempt at this “fructarian” diet, while her own test, a modest but honest 70, lay forgotten beside her. With absolute nonchalance, she scrolled through an online sexy shop store, browsing through undeniably sexy sets at prices that would make any other girl’s wallet tremble...but not hers.
“Stop looking at your phone,” you whispered back, giving her a light shove. “If the professor saw you scrolling through a sex shop right now, she’d have a heart attack. I bet she doesn’t even know the difference between a thong and a Brazilian.”
Allie let out a snort, nearly spitting her drink all over the guy in front of her. She slammed her phone down on the desk just in time, because the professor finally stopped in front of you, her face breaking into a full, thirty-two-tooth grin.
“Y/n, I’m not even surprised anymore,” she said. “But you know I struggle to give out perfect scores. Still, this last test of yours on the Cold War and the geopolitical dynamics of the Soviet bloc… it’s simply flawless. The knowledge you’ve shown, the historical interpretations, even the extra research you included on the Cuban Missile Crisis...it’s all perfect. I’m so proud to have you in my class. It’s a shame you’re not majoring in history, because if you were, you’d be unstoppable.”
You smiled, thinking about how everyone had always told you to study history or political science but your love for music was stronger. “Well, it’s my job to study, get good grades, and give it my all especially in history, since you know it’s one of my favorite subjects,” you said shyly, feeling the eyes of half the class turn toward you.
Then the paper slid onto your desk, revealing a bold, perfect 100 in red ink. Allie, ever the dramatic one, blurted out way too loudly: “Holy shit, you actually got a 100?! We studied together the whole time...how the hell did I only get a 70? Okay, I’m not complaining, but damn, Y/n!” She stared at you, eyes wide, lower lip jutting out like a wounded puppy. You shrugged, suddenly self-conscious under all the attention, and tried to cover the test with your hands but Allie was faster—she snatched it right out from under you, held it up to her face, and before you could protest, she’d already pulled out her phone, snapped a crystal-clear photo of the red 100, and sent it to your friend group chat, roasting you for being such a nerd.
Your phone buzzed nonstop with the incoming messages from your friends, all teasing you affectionately. Meanwhile, a few rows back, a pair of wolf ears suddenly perked up, drawn by the noise and the word “100.” Who the hell had gotten a 100? It was practically impossible in an elective class. His amber eyes locked onto your back, and in that moment, he realized he’d just found his only lifeline to passing Contemporary History.
Jake couldn’t look away. Not even when the bell rang, signaling freedom. His mind was consumed by a single thought: He had never seen anyone get a perfect score in his entire university career and when he saw you stand up, followed by the blonde girl he assumed was your best friend, his instincts flared to life. The wolf in him, the one that drove him to chase, to track down what was vital for his survival (or in this case, his scholarship) awoke with a jolt. Because let’s be real: in his life, there was only room for one thing: Soccer
And at the thought, a surge of adrenaline shot down his spine, making his ears snap forward and his tail muscles twitch back to life, swinging wildly with excitement at the idea of meeting you.
He shot to his feet, shoving his notebook haphazardly into his bag without even zipping it shut. Weaving through the maze of wooden desks, he spotted you stepping into the university’s main atrium. Jake quickened his pace, using his athlete’s stride, until he was just a few steps behind you, right in the middle of the chaos: students switching classes, others heading to the campus bars.
“Hey, Chloe!” he called out, loud enough to be heard, throwing out a random name he’d picked up somewhere in the classroom. The truth was, he had no idea what your name actually was and, honestly, he’d never seen you at one of his famous Friday night parties, nor cheering from the stands during league matches. That fact unsettled him a little… but it also piqued his curiosity.
Of course, you didn’t turn around, because, obviously, your name wasn’t Chloe. You just kept walking and talking to Allie. But Jake wasn’t about to give up. He took two quick steps forward and tried again, this time stretching out a hand to intercept you.
“Hey, Chloe! I’m talking to you!” he said, a little louder this time.
Finally, you spun around. And that was the moment Jake saw you up close for the first time, no filters, no distance of desks between you. A lightning-fast thought shot through his mind: Damn. Not only is she a terrifyingly smart nerd, but she’s also ridiculously cute. He took in your eyes, framed by a faint shadow of annoyance, as they swept over him from head to toe, far from impressed by the figure smiling at you.
“You mean me?” you asked, pointing at your chest with one finger, while Allie stopped beside you, staring at him in confusion.
“Yeah, you,” Jake confirmed.
You rolled your eyes. “Well, for starters, my name is Y/n. Not Chloe… you weren’t even close.” You looked at him bluntly, and at those words, Jake’s wolf ears drooped slightly, flattening against his soft hair in embarrassment. Before he could apologize or come up with one of his usual ready-made excuses, a sharp, ironic voice cut in from beside you.
“Jake Sim is seriously talking to Y/n? What’s this, did you come here to ask for more signatures to sponsor your precious soccer team? Or were you sent by your little basketball buddy, Heeseung, to do his dirty work? Because if you’re here for charity signatures, we’re not interested. The university’s already cutting tons of funding from both the theater and music majors because of you and your best friend,” Allie said, her expression dripping with disdain.
Jake’s head snapped toward the blonde, annoyed by the intrusion but forcing himself to keep his cool. “No,” he replied, straightening up and turning back to you, locking his eyes onto yours. “I’m here because I need to talk to Y/n. About something important.”
At his direct statement, you instinctively crossed your arms over your chest, pressing them tightly as if creating an invisible shield between you and him, a gesture born from deep insecurity and the trauma you still carried inside. The sudden movement didn’t go unnoticed by the hybrid in front of you.
Jake distinctly felt your heartbeat speed up. At the same time, his nose picked up the sudden shift in your scent: the clean aroma of your skin was abruptly overpowered by a sharp, acidic trail, the unmistakable feromone signature of discomfort, mixed with a warm, suffocating note of pure embarrassment. The unwanted attention and physical proximity of an alpha male, especially one like him, had triggered it.
He ran a hand through his brown hair, furrowing his brow deeply as he studied your reaction with a mix of perplexity and concern. His wolf side picked up on your distress like an alarm signal. Why does my mere presence make her feel so threatened or uncomfortable? He wondered. Usually, girls fell over themselves to get a word or a glance from him.
You looked first at Allie, then back at Jake, eager to end this situation as quickly as possible and head to the café for your caramel macchiato in peace.
“Allie, wait for me at the usual faculty café. This’ll take two minutes,” you said with a smile to your best friend. Allie eyed Jake with suspicion, weighing whether to leave you alone or not, then slowly nodded. “Fine, I’ll get your usual,” she said, but as she walked away, turning her back on you, she shot Jake a final, fierce warning glance, one that carried a crystal-clear message: Don’t be stupid, or this will end badly for you.
Left alone with him in the atrium, you immediately took two steps back, putting more distance between you and Jake. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, clutching your books against your chest, and fixed your gaze on him.
“So, Jake Sim, you’ve got two minutes. Tell me what you want.”
Jake studied you carefully, analyzing every tiny movement. His tail gave a slight, excited wag from side to side at finally having your attention, but he stopped it instantly, not wanting to reveal even that small loss of composure. He cleared his throat and said:
“Yeah, well… sorry for calling you Chloe. I just didn’t remember your name.”
You merely responded with a sharp nod, and Jake realized he needed to get to the point before time ran out. So, he decided to pull out the big guns: he unleashed his full Playboy charm, squaring his muscular shoulders and tilting his head slightly to the side with a crooked, magnetic smile. Along with his posture, his hybrid nature did the rest—without realizing it, he released a subtle but intense trail of reassuring pheromones into the air around you. A warm, clean scent filled the space, a mix of citrus and something salty, blended with his natural hybrid scent. It was the kind of biological chemistry wolves used to charm people, lower their defenses, and make them instinctively feel safe and drawn to them, but he didn’t yet know that with you, it would be extremely difficult.
“I saw you got a 100 on that test earlier, and first of all, congratulations. Seriously… not everyone can pull off a score like that in an elective class,” he said, taking an almost imperceptible step closer to you. “And second… I was wondering if you’d be willing to tutor me. I know a lot of people do it for academic credits, but I figure you’ve probably got enough of those already, if you scored a 100, you’re probably acing all your major classes. Or maybe for money? So I was wondering if you’d give me private lessons. I desperately need to pass Contemporary History. Especially since it’s an extra-curricular subject for me, and it’s worth double the structural credits. If I don’t pass… I’m screwed.” He finished with a crooked little smile, but you didn’t take the bait.
The trauma you’d experienced in high school had made you completely immune to the shameless charm of popular guys, and your mind rigidly resisted even his wolf pheromones, pushing them away like a self-defense mechanism. You looked at him with no emotion at all. “Thanks for the compliment on my grade, but no. I don’t tutor anyone. And as you’ve already figured out, I’ve got all the credits I need, and even if we’re talking about money, which, sure, every student could use—I’ve got a ton of studying for my own classes. Plus, I’m in the university choir, and that takes up a lot of time because I’m studying music.” You said all this while keeping your gaze lowered, almost avoiding his face, focused instead on the colorful bookmarks invading your notes. This total indifference deeply unsettled him.
Jake was used to humans hanging on his every word, to girls who would pay just to spend an hour alone with the team captain. Being rejected like this without so much as a glance wounded his alpha male pride and confused him. Sensing that you might not even like his presence, he took a step back, furrowing his brow, and blurted out in one breath:
“Is it because I’m a hybrid that you don’t want to tutor me? Or because you think that, as the soccer team captain, I’m just another shallow idiot who can’t balance engineering studies with training?”
At those words, your eyes widened, struck by how suddenly vulnerable and frustrated his voice sounded as he looked at you. You responded with a flurry of gestures: “No, no! It’s not that at all!” you exclaimed sincerely. “Even if a human had asked me, I would’ve said no, Jake. I’m really sorry… especially because I know balancing engineering studies and being the soccer team captain comes with a lot of pressure ut if you check the bulletin board in the atrium or the university’s official forum, in the history section, I bet you’ll find a tutor way better than me…I…I’ve got to go now, yeah, I’m meeting Allie.”
You said this with slightly flushed cheeks, still not looking him in the face, and began walking quickly down the hallway, almost hunching your shoulders as if afraid he might follow you or reach out to stop you. His fully matured wolf instincts immediately picked up on something strange in your sudden flight. His nose caught that your scent was no longer just annoyed; now it carried a clear trail of fear, and maybe even something vulnerable, and Jake didn’t understand why.
They called him the golden boy of campus for a reason, no one had ever run away from him before. In fact, it was usually the opposite. He stood frozen, watching you disappear into the faculty crowd, his ears perked up, his mind racing at a hundred miles an hour. Your terrified reaction intrigued him, drove him wild. Because Jake Sim, when he wanted something, always got it and his wolf side had just decided that you, sooner or later, would be his tutor, no matter the cost and maybe, over time, something more than just a tutor. But that was something you’d both discover later… certainly not today.
TAGLIST IS OPEN!!
I would like to take inspiration from Elle Kennedy's books, but mix the world of hybrids with the human one.
Sunghoon I'd like to take inspiration from the love story of (Jake and Brenna), Jay the one from the second book on off campus (John and Grace) and for Heeseung the one between (Dean and Allie).
I already have Niki's in mind too, but we'll see…
I think I'll publish the story by mid-June also because I have the last exams to give at university
for your entire life, it's been easy to disregard your father and his beliefs about the ocean and it's creatures. mermaids? ha! those have never existed. but as always, father knows best.
info. merfolk!yang jungwon x reader, cursing, drinking/drug use, vomiting, brief violence (jungwon scratches reader accidentally), like one suicide/drowing joke, SEX!!! (mermaid and human), cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, dubcon-ish (brief manipulation of readers mind), blood play, jungwon goes into heat because of the moon, reader has some pubic hair because she's grown, dry humping, lots of spit because it's me, both of them are sexy losers, diary of a wimpy kid mentioned, mostly edited (if you see a typo, mind your business).
length. 30.6k words.
reblogs appreciated! <3
When you were a little girl, hands still soft and eyes wide, your father told you stories of the sea. Its dangers. Its powers. Its beauty, and its mystery.
These were stories of gods and monsters who resided deep beneath the ocean waves. They were creatures responsible for great disasters and tremendous adventures. He warned you of the sea dragons, that were wise and mischievous—they ruled the sea and were not to be crossed. He warned you of Charybdis, who resided in deep waters and showed no mercy to its victims. However, none of these fascinated you, even at your young age. They were just myths. Stories. Legends. Small tales that helped make sense of a senseless world.
However, your father never let you speak that way about sirens.
He loathed them. He said that they were the biggest nuisance of the sea, always scheming and always intervening. Killing. Murdering. And all while singing their song.
He claims to have seen one once, but he can’t remember much about it. From the little he can recall, and a story you’ve heard maybe a million times before, he says that when he was a young man, he was stationed as a crew hand as many young men at that age are in your small coastal town. And late one night, when half of the crew was asleep and the other half stayed awake, drunk, blubbering on the deck, a piercing note glided through the air. He said it started like a whisper, a sweet lullaby. However, it grew. He still claims to remember how the song crescendoed into a primal lust, one that left him craving the taste of death and salt. When he woke up, the sun was barely cresting over the horizon, and his ears were bleeding.
He was one of the few spared that night.
Although your father has long since left the sea behind, retiring in a small house further inland, he still warns you to never walk along the shore at night. The sirens are beautiful, each and everyone. However, they are lethal. And beauty and death can never coexist peacefully.
But just like the sea dragons and Charybdis, sirens, too, faded into tales of a fictional childhood. You grew, and so did your mind. And just as your frilly socks and toy dolls changed into revealing clothes and drunken parties, your opinions on these stories shifted too. There was no such thing as sirens or merfolk. They were myths. Stories. Tales.
You would never see one for as long as you lived.
—
Puke. It smells like fucking puke.
You hold back Daniela’s hair with one hand, a steely grip on your red solo cup with the other, as she heaves into the sand. You warned her, you really did try.
“Daniela, you can never keep vodka down. We know this,” you say, but she doesn’t listen. She never fucking listens.
Every summer, the kids in your town throw a big beach party, starting at sunset and ending at sunrise. It’s always a big to-do, and you and your friends have been going ever since you were old enough. And like any party with young, drunk adults, something worthy of a good story has to happen.
One year, Jay ran the length of the party butt-ass naked, simply because his friend, Riki, said he wouldn’t. Another year, Jeongyeon and her boyfriend (at the time) had a very public break-up. This year, your friends planned on being the center of attention.
Your friends had made a bet early on, discussing the plan while you all were still at Yunjin’s house, patting glitter onto your eyelids and double-checking your manicures. The plan was to see who could pull the most people in one night, and whoever had the most points by the end of the night, was the winner. A kiss was five points, sex was twenty. Anything in between varied in amount depending on the circumstance and the length of which it occurred. An ambitious plan, however, a little flirtatious fun never hurt anybody. Just like always, Daniela was on a fucking roll.
However, zealous as she was with her bets, she could also be overly ambitious when it came to having a good time. And, well, that often ended like this: puking in the sand at the biggest summer party of the year.
So now you had only kissed three people, and Daniela had kissed four. God knows how many the rest have conquered by now, considering you and Daniela had lost them once you heard someone lugged a keg down to the beach. I mean, seriously. A fucking keg?
“Sorry,” Daniela slurred, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“It’s okay,” you sighed, taking a sip of your drink in hopes it would relieve you from the smell, if even for just a second. “I told you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she huffed, standing up straight. “Do you have a mint?”
You reached into your back pocket, grabbing a spare piece of gum you had stashed before leaving the house. “I only have two more left. Try not to puke anymore before the night’s over.”
She grumbled something that probably would rival an Etsy witch’s hex spell, before popping the mint gum in her mouth. You two stood there for a second, gathering yourselves before you spotted your next target.
Would it be Heeseung? No. He got a girlfriend three months ago and is—allegedly—very loyal to her. Would it be Jake? No. He would never let it go and blow up your DMs. Sunoo? Your dear friend who was always down for a little smooch, especially when he has had about two and a half hard seltzers? Bingo.
“I’ll be back in twenty. If I’m not back, call the Coast Guard,” you joke, not even bothering to look back as you saunter over to Sunoo.
He looks good tonight. Exceptionally good. Like really, really good. His shirt was the perfect amount of tight around the shoulders, and his hair was the perfect amount of styled but relaxed. He looks effortlessly handsome. And knowing how unresistant he is to compliments, you figure it would take you five minutes maximum to butter him up, and then, boom, lips locked, and he becomes lucky number four on your roster for tonight.
Maybe you could convince him to touch your boob—that would have to give you a couple of extra points, right?
However, before you could plant your cute shorty-short covered butt in front of him, Yunjin stumbles into your view. Her shirt is halfway off and her lipstick is smudged, but other than that, she’s fully intact.
“Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell happened to you?!” you gasp, trying to tug the front of her shirt over her boob. Good thing she was wearing a bikini top underneath, but with the way she was fumbling around, a nip slip was bound to happen.
“Gimme eight points,” she demands. Gripping your shoulders like her life depends on it.
Your eyes grow comically wide, the only kind of wide that can be accomplished by drunken surprise. “Why would I do that?”
“I made out with some dude,” she explained, taking a deep breath to sober herself up. “And let him do some other things, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m gonna need a better explanation than that,”
“Whatever,” she groans, shoving you in the opposite direction of Sunoo. “Let’s go take shots and then go swimming. The water is supposed to be nice tonight.”
And soon, the thoughts of shoving your tongue down Sunoo’s throat were consumed by the taste of tequila chased by some slightly sandy lime wedges. It didn’t bother you, though. After your second shot and the warmth spreading across your cheeks, the sand was only a mere memory.
Upon knocking out your last shot, you and your friends began to strip yourselves of your clothes, leaving yourselves in your bathing suits. The water was freezing, but to your warm, sweaty bodies, it was the perfect way to cool down. The sea was tranquil, waves glittering under the stars and the moon. The moon was full, as if a god carved out a pale space in the inky sky, and it illuminated the night perfectly. If you were any more sober, you’d perhaps be a bit more curious as to why it was so bright. Too bad you weren’t, though.
Amongst the squeals and splashing, you found your mind growing very calm. Peaceful. Quiet. The salt breeze tickled your face, as your hair floated in the water around you. You dunk your face under the cold water, waking yourself up slightly. Upon resurfacing and blinking away the brine, you spot a rocky jetty. Has that always been there? Certainly, it must’ve been. A whole row of rocks doesn’t just appear out of nowhere.
However, amidst the confusion, it seems to be calling your name. It isn’t enticing you with liquor or extra points in your game like everything else has interested you tonight. Instead, it seems like it has a secret it wants to share with you. Only you.
“I wanna chicken fight,” Yunjin declares, grabbing someone to be her partner. “Do you wanna duel?” she asks you.
You shake your head, eyes remaining on the jetty that stands darker than the night sky. “No, you guys go ahead. I want to go check out that jetty real quick. I’ll join in on the next round.”
Yunjin shrugs, climbing on Daniela’s shoulders as she bellows some self-proclaimed war cry. You swim over to the jetty, the current guiding you. Wedging your foot on the flattest rock you could find, you hoist yourself onto the ledge, propelling yourself onto the jetty. Your bottom smacks against the wet rock, droplets of moon-filled water decorating your thighs as you stand and regain your footing. You begin to stagger slowly along the jetty, careful to watch your step in your inebriated state.
You may be drunk, but you certainly aren’t stupid.
The pale moon lights your path, warning you against stepping on jagged stones or sharp barnacles that could cut your feet, and highlighting flat rocks that weren’t too slippery from the salty sea. The cool air suddenly grows warmer, but you’re not sure when you begin to feel the change in temperature or if it could be blamed on anything other than the few shots of tequila coursing through your veins. After what feels like hours of wandering—which has probably, realistically, only been about five minutes—you sit back down on a ledge, shifting around to get yourself comfortable as you dip your feet into the water.
You look down, watching your feet against the deep darkness of the ocean, mesmerized by the little swirls that follow your toes. However, just as you’re captivated by the little currents you’re creating, you fail to recognize the other currents being created around you.
Head drooped low and eyes fixated, it isn’t until you hear a loud splash do you look up.
“Yunjin?” you call out.
The ocean is vast and empty; only the glittering waves keep you company. They’re so pretty, you think. They’re so pretty that you wish someone would write a song about them.
Then, another splash. You don’t just hear it this time, but you see it too. A small flicker of something shiny pierces through the water, before smacking down aggressively, foam and salt spraying in all directions. You’re not sure what it was. It was far enough away that you couldn’t make out any details, and the fact that your world is currently functioning at an aggressive tilt does not help by any means.
However, your mind rapidly comes up with the highest possible conclusion: shark.
You tug your feet out of the water, pleading to the gods that you won’t become the first dead girl in your rendition of Jaws. But yet, unlike any sane person, you remain seated. You know, just in case it actually is a shark and you can end the night by claiming that you saw one. Maybe you can lie and say that it tried to take a nibble out of you. That would certainly have to gain you some points, right? And if not by your friends, certainly other people attending this party would remember you as the girl who fought off a shark all by herself?
Not a bad way to be remembered—especially this early in your life.
However, it’s been two minutes. The water has stilled. There is no shark.
You’re still tense. Slightly afraid to move, and eyes transfixed on the glittering water. You kind of want to jump in again. You know you shouldn’t, of course. There could be a fucking shark just waiting for you to jump in so it can have you as a midnight snack. However, despite all of these red flags flashing through your mind, it seems as if the water is calling your name. It’s calling your name in a sweet, melodic voice. Almost like a little hum. A lullaby.
If you were in the right mind, you would be able to acknowledge that the this song you hear isn’t a figment of your imagination, but rather a voice. A note rings out, graceful and warm. And because it blends in with the low rumble of the ocean, and you’re currently battling with your alcohol induced brain, it’s easy to disregard the danger that harmonizes softly with the waves. Because at the end of the day, a measly shark fears this tune just as you should too.
But you’re drunk, and you’re naive. What could a human possibly know about the wonders of the deep blue?
Just as your eyes stay glued to the water, you feel something take a hold of your ankle.
This is it, you think. It’s the fucking shark.
You yelp and push yourself backwards, flinging yourself as far as you can. You don’t make it too far before realizing it’s just a hand. However, that hand hasn’t let go of your ankle, and keeps your foot in place with a strength that your mind is incapable of registering at this moment. All you know is that your foot and that stubborn grip remain.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” you huff, wiping your hands down your face as you snap yourself out of whatever trance the water put you into. The song you’ve been hearing is cut into two, an eerie silence following. You think you might’ve just fallen asleep for a second there. “You scared the shit out of me.”
You giggle as you look down to see who has taken a hold of your ankle, half expecting it to be Daniela or maybe even Sunoo. However, a different pair of eyes stare back at you, and they are ones you wouldn’t say you’re very well acquainted with.
In fact, you’re not at all acquainted with these eyes. Actually, you don’t know who the fuck this is.
“Um, hello?”
The young man just stares, eyes wide and round and bewildered. He looks almost as surprised as you, if not more. He pushes away from the rock a bit, his fingers sliding down the top of your foot as he submerges his mouth into the water. It’s almost as if he’s embarrassed that he scared you.
Almost.
“Bro, you scared me so fucking bad. I almost shit myself,” you chuckle, finally letting yourself relax. “I thought you were one of my friends.”
He blinks, slow and curious like an animal. But then, he lifts his head to show two pink lips, pursed like he’s guarding a secret. “Sorry,” he says, in a voice so gentle and sweet you swear stars twinkle in response.
Suddenly feeling shy, you shrug and smile coyly. “It’s okay. It was kinda funny.”
“Funny?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. A strand of wet hair falls across his forehead, a dark streak against pale skin.
“Yeah,” you nod. “Like, you know, funny. Ha-ha.”
He nods slowly, mimicking your movement before he smiles softly. It seems like he was genuinely confused. “Yeah. Funny.”
He’s kind of shy, you decide. When you’re drunk, you’re as social as can be so this just cannot do. But lucky for him, and especially lucky for you, you can keep the ball rolling.
“Are you from here?” you inquire, scooting closer to the edge. “I haven’t seen you before.”
The young man swims closer, his hand finding your ankle again but you don’t seem to mind. His grip is gentle, comforting. Besides, he’s kinda hot.
“No.”
“Oh?” you hum, peering down at him. He brushes his thumb over the bone, and it almost lulls you to sleep. Whoever this guy is, you like him. “Where are you from?”
He sighs, light and serene like a morning sea breeze. “Not from here,” he replies, a voice so sweet even birds would stop to listen.
You roll your eyes, giggling a little. “Well, duh. But where-”
“Do you want to go swimming?”
Your brain freezes for a second, fog consuming your mind. A warmth fills your body, different from the buzzing warmth of the alcohol—this is sharp, arousing. And you can’t deny it, he’s attractive. You very well could just be turned on, but something whispering in the back of your mind tells you it’s not. It’s more primal, animalistic. Dangerous. Although a part of you is pleading you to not get into the water, reasoning with the fact that he’s a stranger, you can feel yourself burning up from the inside out.
The song starts once more.
He strokes your ankle again. “Please?” he says, voice softer than a lamb’s.
You feel yourself helplessly nodding, submerging your other foot in the water. He begins to help you in, before you remember what—you suspect—was in the water only a few feet behind him.
“Wait,” you stop. “I saw something earlier. It might’ve been a shark. You should come out.”
He looks at you, stunned. The song stops. You might as well have spoken a language no one has ever documented. His head cocks sidewise, like a dog hearing a high whistle.
“There is no shark,” he insists, ceasing any kind of movement.
You shake your head, feeling as if you’re rediscovering that there’s more around you than this mystery man. “No, I swear I saw something earlier. You didn’t see anything?”
He just stares at you, eyes wide and mouth dropped open. Would he fucking pull it together?
“I’m not fucking joking, dude. You should get out,” you berate, panic beginning to creep under your skin.
But he just remains still, shock painting his face from top to bottom. His grip on your ankle stays, but that fuzzy warmth you once felt is ripped away and replaced with freezing sobriety. You’re still frantically searching the water, anticipating a sight of a gnarly fin or menacing jaws to pop out of the water at any second. And although you’d love to have a crazy story to tell, you’re not sure if witnessing ‘death by shark’ is a tale you want to relay. You don’t even know this guy’s name. What would you tell the coast guard? The police? But the water is dark, darker than before. All that stares back at you is a pit of tar, motionless and waiting. Have the stars always been this dim?
“It’s okay,” he eventually says, stroking your ankle in a tantalizing pattern. “It’s safe. I promise.”
“I’m not playing, bro. Get out of the-”
Now. You’re sure fireball and vodka don’t mix well, but you’re not too sure that it’s supposed to make you hallucinate. However, that’s the only way you can explain what you’re seeing right now. Just between your leg and the young man’s torso, you spot movement.
It’s not vicious or menancing—nothing like an animal about to attack. Instead, it’s relaxed. If anything, it moves a bit seductively. The movement is unified, nothing like legs. It’s unified like a tail. You follow the movement upwards, watching it blend into the young man’s hips and torso. It’s his.
You hope deeply that it’s not a part of him, but the voice of your father, blaringly loud in the back of your head, rings true. These so-called mythical creatures are true. It also just so happens that the man in front of you, with eyes as dark as midnight and lips as pink as a sunset, is no man at all.
He’s a fucking siren.
You scream bloody fucking murder, and he jumps.
“Wait-” he begins, but you’ll hear none of it.
Kicking and trashing, praying to whatever god that someone will hear you and come to your rescue, you try to fight him off. Water sprays in every direction, salt stinging your eyes and disrupting the once tranquil ocean. Somewhere in your trashing, you kick him square in the face. He lets go of your ankle, hands flying towards his eye, nails slicing through the skin of your calf somewhere in the process. However, you’re too focused on trying to get away to even realize that the scratch was an accident.
“Help! Fuck, he’s trying to eat me!” you yelp, stumbling to your feet.
You eventually stand upright, the young man groaning before submerging himself back into the water. However, you waste no time trying to decipher if he’s following you or trying to rally some more of his (supposed) little siren friends. Instead, you bolt.
Holding your tits steady in your bikini top, you scamper off of the jetty and towards the sandy beach. It’s a miracle you don’t slip on any of the wet rocks, that certainly would’ve been a prime moment for him to snatch you up and eat you. But you hold your own, feet landing onto the soft sand as you sprint over to the crowd.
You’ve never been more thankful to see another human being in your life.
Lungs burning and eyes watering, you spot Daniela, who emerges from the crowd like your knight in shining armor. Yunjin and Lara follow, as well as a few other of your friends. Hair still damp from playing in the water, but other than that, unscathed.
You collapse into Daniela’s arms, chest cramping from lack of oxygen. If you could catch your breath, you would cry. But after such a scare, you’re not sure if you can do anything other than heave.
“Where the fuck were you?!” Daniela damn near shrieks, cradling you close to her chest like a baby. “We looked everywhere for you.”
“I-I-I…” you stutter, trying to quiet your pounding heart. “I saw something in the water. I thought it was some guy…”
“What? Like a dead body?” Yunjin asks, concern furrowing her eyebrows.
You shake your head vehemently, finally being able to breathe. “Worse. He was talking to me and he was, like, really hot so I didn’t really think anything of it. But then I was getting all warm and he was trying to get me into the water. But then I looked down and he didn’t have any fucking legs. He had like—I don’t know—a tail? I couldn’t-”
Lara scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head slowly as she narrows her eyes at you. “You’re really drunk.”
You throw your hands down, petulant like a child bubbling with a tantrum. “I’m not lying, Lara!”
“Yo, what the fuck happened to your leg?” Sunoo inquires, pointing towards your calf as he stands near Heeseung.
Daniela spins your shoulders a bit, forcing you to show off the backside of your leg. Sure enough, five red gashes, varying in depth and vibrancy, slowly drip blood down your heel and into the sand. You don’t even remember it happening, memory blocked in a panic. However, maybe it’s the adrenaline or the cleanliness of the cuts, but you hardly even notice them safe for the warmth that dribbles down your shivering skin.
“Are you fucking serious?” Daniela curses, beginning to usher you through the crowd and towards, you presume, your house. “You disappear, without a word, and now you're saying shit about some random dude or whatever? Your dad is going to fucking kill me,”
Yunjin laughs, jogging to keep up with you and Daniela as she storms you across the beach. “I didn’t take you for a runner,” she snickers.
“I’m not a runner!” you argue. “I told you where I was going!”
Daniela stops, as do all of your friends, with an unimpressed look on their faces.
“No, one second you were in the water with us and the next you were gone. We didn’t even hear you leave,” Daniela says, the moon taunting you through the ringlets of her hair.
—
Safe to say, you’re a little scared to go back to the beach.
Daniela was quick to wrap up your little injury, and you were able to brush off your mom’s inquisitive looks during your weekly Sunday brunch with a simple lie. However, you can’t help but feel like something is still out there, waiting for you. Looking for you.
Nearly a week has passed, and every night, you see him. Dark hair, and even darker eyes shaped just like crescent moons that observed your every step. Sometimes, he pulls you into the water and tries to drown you. Sometimes, you two just have a lovely chat. Everytime, you wake up gasping, lungs feeling like they’ve been filled with water and calf tingling despite healing without complication. On one occasion, you woke up standing before your window, hands pressed against the glass like you were trying to wish it away. You asked if Lara could sleep over the next night.
But despite the pounding heart and paranoia, you still feel this pull. Every night, when the moon creeps through your curtains and touches your face, you remember his thumb against your ankle. You can hear the melodic lilt in his voice.
You don’t even know his name or, frankly, what he really is, but you feel drawn to him.
And maybe that’s stupid. Scratch that, it’s definitely stupid. Especially when you remember how you felt as if you had no control over your body at certain points in your conversation with him. But you were drunk! Surely, that wouldn’t ever happen again if you were sober… right?
It’s ridiculous to even be having these thoughts, and to be hoping to catch a glimpse of something splashing in the water as you watch the waves cresting from your porch. But you can’t help but wonder, despite trying your hardest to deprive yourself of that urge.
So in order to fully stick to your rules, you haven’t been going to the beach. In part because you’re afraid of getting attacked again or whatever, and mostly because you’re not sure of what you would do if you saw him again.
It’s embarrassing having to lie to your friends, dodging every attempt of theirs to drag you down to the beach. I picked up a shift at work; my dad wants me to come over for dinner; I forgot to turn in a paper despite the semester ending two weeks ago. They all see right through your lies, and you know it, but they don’t push.
They don’t really know what happened that night, and despite feeling like you remember every detail and explaining your side of the story a million times over, you’re not quite sure if you actually know what you’re talking about. Either way, they don’t push and hope that, eventually, you’ll come around.
Besides, it’s summer! You can’t stay cooped inside for forever!
And they're right, because by the fifth day, you’ve had enough.
You can only binge watch so many episodes of Love Island before the incessant drama begins to rot away your brain. All of the arguing and crying only forces you to think about your own current dilemma. Unable to ignore it any longer, you decide it’s time for you to face your fear.
You step outside, the air still slightly cool from the morning breeze. The sea is calm, glistening in the mid morning sun. The beach is fairly barren, only a few people taking their dogs on a morning stroll. The sun is high in the sky, and you can hear the waves crashing into the sand like a faint whisper from your balcony.
Today is the day. It’s nice out, the sun is shining. Nothing could go wrong.
You trudge down to the beach, walking towards the same jetty where you met that strange… whatever. You face the jetty, hands growing a bit clammy, but other than that, you’re killing this! A few deep breaths, and you have this totally under control! As a matter of fact, you have it so under control, that you decide that you can even walk out to the jetty.
And walk out you do!
The rocks are a little cool, not yet warmed by the afternoon sun. You carefully watch your step, not wanting to slip and fall into the ocean below. The water is calm, only lightly spraying your feet and ankles when a wave abruptly hits the side of the jetty. If you really think about it, the tickle of the seafoam on your legs is like the sea is apologizing for that night… in a way.
See, this isn’t too bad. Nothing to be afraid of.
Maybe you were making shit up—just like your friends suggested. You were pretty drunk, after all. Perhaps, you fell asleep on the jetty and conjured some crazy dream, in which you injured yourself while thrashing around. It certainly wouldn’t exactly explain why the cuts are the perfect size and distance of human—or human-like—fingers. Maybe they’re from teeth? You can’t really remember. But does it really matter?
You’re safe. The water is calm. It’s a nice day, and you’re only a few weeks into your summer break! You should be able to enjoy it.
Things are beginning to look up for you. The five angry lines down your calf are healing, and hopefully, walking out to the exact same spot where you saw this alleged siren-merman- whatever will help with the nightmares and sleepwalking. You’ll finally be able to feel like yourself, and enjoy your summer. Parties, beach trips, and getting drunk with your friends is in your imminent future.
At least until you realize that the same set of slender eyes that you nearly drowned in those days ago is staring back at you, curious and observant through a purple bruise that blooms across his left cheek.
Of course, you scream bloody murder.
It’s just like last time, really, except he doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t try to grab you, nor does he try to eat you. Instead, he flinches and covers his ears and waits for you to stop. The worst he does is give you an annoyed glare, but that’s about it. On the other hand, you fall flat on your ass out of fear, flailing and praying to whatever god that might be listening to let you walk out of this alive.
Eventually, you get a grip and are able to quiet down. Chest heaving and hands trembling, you stare at him, the seat of your shorts soaked with sea water the longer you remain paralyzed on your ass. He continues to stare at you, the bottom half of his face submerges, leaving only his eyes remaining. They never leave yours, and you’ll be damned if yours leave his.
As it turns out, your screaming was pointless. No one comes running to save you, no one asks what’s wrong. You're not even sure if the world blinked at your unease. However, he did.
The young whatever-he-is slowly removes his hands from his ears, swimming a hair closer, hesitant, as he takes his face out of the water. He’s just as handsome as you remember, maybe even more, now that you can see him better in the morning light. Water drips from his chin and his lips are set in a small frown, displeased with your sudden outburst.
“You’re loud,” he mutters, eyes squinting.
Your heart is still pounding, and your toes curl reflexively as he moves closer. You’re not sure. You should’ve probably threatened him—told him you had a knife or something. Maybe even said you told the coast guard about him, and they were ready to come pick him up at any minute. Goodbye, Mister Mystery-Creature!
But, of course, you say no such thing.
“You fucking bit me!” you shriek, suddenly pulling down your bandage to reveal five angry lines, even and deep but healing nonetheless.
He cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows quirking upwards. “I didn’t bite you. You kicked me,” he retorts.
“Because you bit me!”
“I scratched you,” he answers plainly, his hands coming into view as he places them on the jetty, mere inches away from your feet. He makes no move to grab at them and pull you under. “You kicked me, and I scratched you. It was an accident. I’m sorry.”
And this guy, whoever or whatever he is, says all of this like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Plain as day, pure as milk. He’s still looking at you, eyes wide and easy, still rich like a midnight sky but you can see the sun cresting in his irises, and you finally feel your heart calm.
His eyes begin to wander, sliding down your neck and chest, and eventually landing on your legs. He observes the scratch marks, certainly better than they were even just a few days ago, but still a bit irritated. But then his eyes just stay there, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and wonder as his eyes scan up and down the length of your legs. Legs, knees, ankles, feet, toes—and back up.
While he takes his time analyzing you, you look closer at him. He looks… normal. The face of someone about your age. His cheeks are smooth, cheekbones proud. Strands of his hair stick to his forehead, just like they did the night you met him, spelling out something maybe you’ll one day understand. His mouth is pursed in concentration, a whisper of a dimple showing itself next to his pink pout. His eyebrows are dark and straight, and his nose hooks slightly, although you can’t tell from the front. Overall, a very handsome man.
Moving from his face, you can’t really find anything abnormal from what you can see. Well, except for his hands.
His hands are normal, fingers slender and long like a human's, except for the damn near set of acrylics he has. Sharp and clean, just like claws, but also neutral and thinner like human nails. Seeing them in the daylight like this makes you understand why the damage you suffered was so great.
“Damn, dip and tip!” you exclaim, forgetting all about the nearly debilitating fear you felt a moment ago. Swinging your legs under you, you grab his hand in yours, observing his nails up close.
The young man squeaks, a floundering sound that bubbles up from his chest. His hands are even prettier up close, his nails a light shade of pearl as they file into a point, despite not being too long. He doesn’t try to pull away, nor does he try to pull you down under. He remains very still, like a dog waiting to see what you’ve plucked from their fur.
“They’re very sharp,” you say, stating the obvious.
“Yours are… not.”
You chuckle, letting go of his hand when you become seemingly aware of how strange that must’ve been. Not that this is really normal anyway. “What… are you… exactly?”
He tosses his head back, flicking any hair that was stuck to his forehead away from his face. “Same as you, but different,” he responds, resisting his cheek in his palm.
You shake your head incredulously. “You have a tail. We’re very different.”
He shrugs, moving positions so he can rest against a rock—a makeshift seat. You glimpse at his torso, collarbones glistening in the early morning light. You imagine that swimming in salt water all the time would dry out his skin, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. In fact, his skin looks rather smooth. His tail, long and decorated in shades of silver and blue that glisten like a cresting wave when the sunlight hits, stretches out in front of him. It twitches under your stare.
“Depends on what story you hear. Some say sirens, some say merman,” he explains, eyes returning to your face after thoroughly inspecting your legs. “You can say whatever you prefer.”
“And which do you prefer?”
He thinks, long and hard, as his eyes flick upwards to search for the answer. “Jungwon.”
You blink. “The fuck is Jungwon?”
“My name,” he giggles, a sound sweet and friendly like a strawberry dipped in sugar. “Jungwon.”
—
As it turns out, Jungwon is very interesting.
You’re not sure when it became a regular thing for you to see him—it’s not something the two of you ever really discussed—but each day, without fail, you two meet up every morning. Sometimes you two just watch each other in peaceful silence, soaking in every difference and similarity. It’s not every day you run into a siren, and you can imagine Jungwon isn’t seeing humans on the regular either. Unless, he is. You’ll have to ask him.
But because he doesn’t know any humans, other than you—you think—he tends to have a lot of questions.
Jungwon has asked you if it’s hard to control your legs—you assume it’s because there’s two, instead of one like his tail; he’s also asked questions like what do humans eat, what do they do for fun, and why do they swim so weirdly. Of course, you answer to the best of your ability, but sometimes it’s hard to explain. So instead, you show him.
When you told him that humans eat mostly anything they want, he didn’t believe you. But when you brought a bag of goodies for him to try, you barely got a chance to eat the gummies you brought before he devoured them. You told him what you did for fun, and even let him play around with your phone after he dried his hands off. You would’ve entertained him with swimming, but you were still a bit weary of him. The cuts on your leg were still healing, after all.
But despite how eager you were to answer any and all of his questions, you were a bit shy to ask your own.
“What were you doing the night we met?” Jungwon asks, nibbling on a pineapple flavored gummy bear while you lazily scanned a book your father lent you on aquatic folklore. It was a bit difficult to explain your sudden interest to your father, especially after finding it trivial your whole life, but years of pretending to not be drunk in dire situations led you to be quite the actress.
“Excuse me?” you ask, thumbing the page.
Jungwon turns to fully face you, chin resting on his forearms. You wonder if they have hand-held weights wherever he lives—-his biceps are, well, nice.
“Why were you at the beach so late the night we met?” he asks again, lazily tracing the marbled grain of a rock.
You shrug, shoving the book in your bag. Hopefully he didn’t catch the title. “There’s a big party on the beach every summer. I go every year,” you explain, reaching out your palm in hopes that he’ll let you eat the snack that you brought.
“A party?”
You nod as he places a singular gummy bear in your hand. Stingy. “Yeah, like a gathering of people. Where you have fun,”
“I know what a party is,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I just forgot the word.”
“Oh,” you nod. You don’t know why it is surprising to you that he had a lapse of memory, but you sort of just assumed that Jungwon had always spoken and understood your language. “Do you speak something else at home?”
He averts his gaze towards the water, looking over the ripples of waves as the early morning light glints off their crests. Suddenly feeling like you had overstepped, you try to dismiss the question in a flurry of gestures and sour faces.
His eyes trace back towards you, amusement hidden beneath his deep eyes. “Yeah. I don’t talk like how I talk with you back home,” he answers plainly.
You absorb this new information, willing yourself to relax a bit. “What do you speak then?” you wonder.
Jungwon purses his lips, eyes roaming towards the sky as if the answer will be etched into the clouds. “I don’t really think there’s a human equivalent.”
“Why can you talk like me then?” you implore, mind flowing with questions you had been too shy to ask previously.
He smiles, finding your questions endearing. Jungwon wonders if this is how you feel when he asks you questions about humans—warm. Cute.
“I’ve read it on boats, heard it from sailors,” he responds, reaching for the bag of gummy bears. He pushes a green one between two pink lips. “Merfolk are good with sounds. It’s not too hard to learn.” He watches you nod thoughtfully, gears turning many miles a minute. He kind of wishes he could walk through your mind. At least for an hour. “Is it not the same for humans?”
You shake your head, giggling. “No, it takes humans a while to learn new languages,” you say, turning to lay on your side comfortably. “Some can learn in a few years though.”
This baffles Jungwon, that pinch at the top of his nose forming that you have begun to grow acquainted with. “Humans really are stupid.”
You shove his head under the water.
—
Ever since that day with Jungwon, your relationship has become a lot easier. Strange. But easier.
He waits for you like always, sunning himself on the rocks before retreating a little further into the water when you arrive as if he’s shy. Shy of what? You’re not sure. You’d rather him stay sunning himself—you rather enjoy the view. However, it doesn’t take long before he starts to cozy up against the jetty again once you two begin your early morning check ups.
You’ve actually learned a lot about Jungwon these past few days. Not only about him, but about merfolk. Merfolk travel in groups, like orcas or tuna. Usually it’s confined to family, according to Jungwon, but you’re allowed to interact with merfolk outside of your kin. Blushing, he admits that typically one only travels outside of the pack when finding a mate—which you teased him relentlessly about—but there’s no strict rules on not interacting with someone outside of a familial pod. Sort of like interacting with strangers on the street—it’s not that it’s not allowed, it just might be a little strange. That is, of course, unless you’re looking to date or exchange numbers or make out in the back of some dingy bar.
He also explains that it’s hard to know where to locate merfolk. There are some established colonies, but those are in places humans have yet to discover. You could go your whole life without seeing another pod, you suppose. However, many familial pods live further out at sea.
“Why were you so close to the shore that night then?” you ask, doodling on the corner of some magazine you brought to show Jungwon. He took only a slight interest, preferring to learn from you than some paper.
“Lost track of where I was, I guess.”
And that was that. But Jungwon says he has friends and family, and tells you that merfolk are definitely on the higher end of the food chain—so don’t get it twisted!—but he mainly tells you that after you expressed concern that he would get eaten by a shark and you would never see him again.
“Merfolk are smarter than sharks, I’ll be fine,” he dismisses, eyeing your legs like he’s done many times before. You’re not too sure why he hasn’t asked you about them yet. He’s asked you about nearly everything else, besides the obvious.
“But sharks are, like, really fast,” you explain, as if you know better than him. Mind you, the ocean is literally his home.
He eyes you for a second, a teasing glint in his eye surfacing slowly but surely. “Do you want to see me fight a shark?”
You flick him in the forehead, which he whines before he flicks you back. “Don’t be weird.”
Jungwon tells you that merfolk and humans aren’t really supposed to interact. Obviously, there’s been a history of encounters—there’s too many stories for them to be fictional like you once believed—but it’s still frowned upon. Many merfolk have been hurt or exploited, even killed in some instances by humans. You promised Jungwon that you would never do that to him. He believes you.
However, Jungwon never really addresses the elephant in the room. Of course, there are many cultural and behavioral differences. And don’t get it wrong, you enjoy learning about them. They’re fascinating! You would’ve never imagined a whole different world beyond the one you know. Hell, you didn’t even think a world like Jungwon’s existed before you met him! Even then you were in denial. But what you really want to know about are your physical differences.
To be fair, Jungwon is curious about them too. He eyes your legs and feet and toes every time he sees you. He watches your mouth carefully, inspecting the lack of fangs and the lack of webbing between your fingers. It baffles him, and it certainly baffles you. But you know Jungwon. He won’t be the one to ask—he gets shy about these things. So it’s going to have to be you.
Bite the bullet, jump off the cliff, and ask what the hell it’s like having a fish tail.
One morning, when the sun was still low and the sky not yet a bright orange, you decide to ask while Jungwon rests across a rock, lazing about as usual. He’s not really a morning person, something you learn the more and more you two see of each other. Perhaps the excitement has disappeared. Or perhaps, the comfortability has set in.
His tail, a brilliant silver and an even richer shade of cobalt, wades leisurely in the water behind him. You watch his back rise and fall, his eyes shut and mouth in a pink pout from being pressed against his arm. He looks peaceful. Calm. Cute. What better way to ruin it by asking an obnoxious question?
“Can I touch your tail?”
Jungwon’s back stills, his whole body going rigid to the point that you are reminded that he is part animal. He lifts his head slowly, a bright red circle imprinted on his cheek from laying on it for too long. You almost want to laugh, but the look he gives you—wild and confused—makes you think better of it. After the seventh second of straight silence, you decide to back track.
“Or your hands?” What. “Or your teeth?” Worse. “Or just anything that isn’t really human-like for that matter?” What the fuck is wrong with you.
Jungwon is so genuinely stunned that you’re not even sure if he’s breathing anymore. He shakes his head, tiny droplets of water falling from his hair that never seems to fully dry. Jungwon begins to think a crab crawled into his ear because he can not believe what he’s hearing.
“You want to touch my tail?”
He’s making you nervous. “Sorry, was that offensive to ask? I don’t really know how to go about this.”
He’s still quiet, something you’ve never known from Jungwon. Comfortable silence is one thing, and you two quite enjoy existing together in that way. However, once you say something, Jungwon always responds. Not now.
“I just…” you begin, slowing once you notice his gaze.
Jungwon’s eyes are sleek, narrow and lidded as if he’s stalking his next victim. And you’ve never seen Jungwon hunt—you don’t know if he’s good or bad at it—but you imagine this is what it must feel like to be his prey. Tense, shaken, maybe a little bit aroused—you don’t know! You don’t know if fish can feel that way. But you certainly do.
His eyes never leave your face, watching carefully for any abrupt changes. It feels alarming to have him look this intensely at you. Of course, he knows what you look like. He’s seen you plenty. However, you’ve never felt as observed as you do now. Even when he eyes your legs or listens to you blab on about something unimportant, you never felt watched. Except for now.
Suddenly feeling as if all the air in the outside world was sucked up and being sold for a billion dollars—which, of course, you can’t afford—you grow very still. You might as well never breathe again at this rate, especially if he keeps looking at you like that. You need to bring yourself back down to Earth, and hopefully bring him with you too.
“You just always look at my legs, and I know you’re probably curious, so… I don’t know. I thought it could be fun? That sounds stupid. Um, what I mean is that we’re obviously biologically different. And not ‘cause you’re a boy and I’m girl, but because I’m a human and you’re… not. So, I thought, what better way to understand each other more than to explore each other’s bodies?”
You definitely deserve to drown after that shit show.
Jungwon’s mouth parts, and you’re sure it’s to call you a slew of embarrassing names, but instead he says: “You can touch my tail.”
He makes no fuss, only maneuvering himself so he can lay himself on a rock, his tail and fins resting across the jetty. He’s mostly submerged in the water, but this is the closest you’ve been to his tail. It’s actually quite pretty.
“Can I touch you?” he asks, and in any other circumstance, the question would prompt you to joke that he’s some sort of pervert. But when he looks at you like that, eyes shiny and imploring, so gentle and sweet, you’re rendered silent. You almost wish you could take him home with you. You don’t almost wish, you do wish it, but that would be impossible.
“Hell yeah,” you say, beginning to rip off your shorts to reveal your bikini bottoms that you always wear in case you decide today is the day you swim around with Jungwon. Show him a little freestyle or breast stroke! Well, you guess today is the day.
You slide into the small wedge of space next to Jungwon, not quite sitting across from him, but hovering between his fins and torso. Your knee bumps against his waist, murmuring a quick sorry, as he helps guide you into the water. The water is cold, but that’s not why you have goosebumps.
He holds your elbow gently, only letting go once he’s sure you’re steady and comfortable. He looks at you, waiting and expecting, eyes drifting between your own and your hands that hold your legs close to your body.
Unbeknownst to you as to why, but you’re nervous. You’ve never been this close to Jungwon before, and you’ve certainly never seen his body this well.
Usually he keeps himself fairly submerged, the water distorting his tail and creating hypnotizing lines across his chest. If he’s not submerged, he’s laying with his back facing upwards, which, of course, you don’t mind. His back is nice. It’s broad. And very muscular. And defined. Some might even say sexy. But you're beginning to like the idea of seeing his torso too.
He keeps one hand resting on his stomach, the other resting on a rock near your shoulder. He’s really good looking. Really good looking, like, go-to-war-for-that-face good looking. To make matters worse, he’s still looking at your complexion, watching your every move, reassuring himself that you’re not uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to…” he whispers, chuckling slightly. He’s not sure why he whispers, but he feels that if he should speak any louder, this moment between you would be broken. And Jungwon definitely wants to preserve this moment for as long as he can.
“I want to, just,” you sigh, eyes drifting from his tail to his face. He looks at you with such interest that you almost begin to thank the sea for giving you your very own pearl. “I’m shy.”
He giggles, leaning a bit closer to you. “You're shy?”
You nod. “I’m shy.”
He hums again, a sound so melodic you finally understand why you almost dove into the water for him that first night. His smile is sweet and soft as he taps your shoulder mercifully. “Come here,” he says, taking your smaller hand in his. “I’ll do it with you.”
He pulls your hand under the cool water, directing it towards the top of his tail. It’s nothing like you imagined. You pictured it to be a bit rougher—sort of like when you run your hands along those color changing sequin pillows; it’s nothing like that. It’s smoother than you expected, only a small ridge felt whenever you glide your hand upwards along the scales. He stays very still, almost not breathing for the sake of not scaring you off.
Your hand creeps a bit higher, towards his hips and his abs instinctively flex. He hopes you don’t notice, but of course you do. Thank god you’re already in the water or else another kind of wetness would be quite noticeable.
You decide to leave him alone, noticing the curl of his lips that he only gets when he’s a little embarrassed and agree to focus your attention on the fin that rests next to your torso. It’s quite large, certainly larger than your head. The blue becomes lighter, more of a sky blue than the royal blue that stripes along his side, as it fans along the length of his fin. The tips of his fin curl gently inwards, more like a dolphin than the pet goldfish you had growing up. It’s cute.
“You can relax, you know,” you huff a giggle, catching his eyes as he watches your every movement.
Jungwon releases whatever breath he was holding, a nervous laugh following soon after. His hands finding your calf, the same one he scratched weeks ago. He traces the faint scar with his nail, a whisper of a touch that you’re no longer intimidated by.
“Is this okay?” he asks. Of course, you nod.
You two stay like that for awile: in the silence, feeling along each other. His hands glide over your skin, and yours slide along his scales. A new exploration that you’re sure millions would die to experience, and not even because he’s a creature of myths but because he’s so undeniably handsome it kind of makes you wonder if he’s even real.
A slight tug on your pinky toe pulls you out of your admiration, squirming a bit as he tickles your foot unintentionally. “What does this even do?” he says, bringing your foot right in front of his face. “It’s so small.”
“It’s supposed to help with balance or something,” you chuckle. He rotates your ankle in all the ways it can go, mesmerized by the flexibility of a singular joint.
“How? It’s so tiny.”
You fail to suppress a giggle as his finger runs along the sole of your foot, causing your leg to kick out a nearly hit him in the face. He narrowly escapes—another—black eye, wrestling your leg back into the water and pressing it between his ribs and arm, as if it were a sea snake trying to attack him.
“What?”
“It tickles.”
He snorts, eyes carving into sweet crescent moons that shine even under the bright sun. “You don’t see me complaining," he says, a slight snobiness in his voice. Certainly you couldn’t have taught him that.
“I’m sorry,” you reply, insincerely. “Am I hurting you?” you question, a bit more genuine than your previous statement as you readjust the strength with which you were touching his tail.
Jungwon shakes his head, beginning to run his hand up and down your knee, clearly captivated by the jut of bone that protrudes when it bends. “You could never hurt me,” he reassures softly.
“I literally kicked you in the face that one time,” you scoff.
He smiles cutely, his dimples putting on a pretty show just for you. “Better than being slapped with a fin,” he replies, making a face to show you that he’s definitely been slapped by a fin before and it definitely hurt.
The more you know Jungwon, the better his speech becomes. But because Jungwon sometimes doesn’t recognize certain words that you say, you suspect that this is the first time he’s had to learn another language; only to discover that he’s fluent in several languages, some human and some not. Apparently, there are nearly a thousand different merfolk dialects, all of which are easy to pick up for other merfolk.
“Wait, I want to try.”
“You’re not going to be able to understand,” Jungwon says plainly, peeking one eye open as he rests his head on his arms. You guess he also gets sleepy in the morning.
“Try me.”
Jungwon sits up, making room for your legs as you scooch forward and dip your feet into the water. He narrows his eyes at you, their pretty, round shape becoming taunting slits as he contemplates if this is a secret he wants to let you in on.
“Fine,” he sighs, ignoring it when your ankle bumps against his hip, instead wrapping his fingers around it as if to anchor himself.
“I’m actually really smart, Jungwon. I don’t know why you don’t believe me,” you scoff.
He giggles, the sun bouncing off of his eyes and warming them to a thrilling degree. “Maybe because you said swordfish and barracuda’s are basically the same thing,” he explains.
“Key word: basically,” you groan, flicking water at him with your foot. He barely flinches. “C’mon! I want to learn.”
Jungwon sighs, splashing a little bit of water against your leg since he can never let you win before he speaks. Whatever the hell he says, you can’t even begin to guess. It’s a series of clicks, whistles, and purrs—a language so fluid and ancient that it's pointless to try to follow. It pours from his mouth just like a quiet stream, a sound so wise and inviting. It’s a short sentence, whatever it is that he says, and he looks at you expectantly, his eyes wide and shiny just like the early morning waves. He almost looks shy.
You’re breathless.
“Does that mean ‘I want more gummy bears’ or something?” you guess, which causes Jungwon to laugh so loudly you’re afraid your secret might be shared. “Seriously, what does that mean?”
He hums, and you almost think it’s another phrase in his mother tongue before he sends you that cheeky smile. “I told you that you wouldn’t understand,” he smiles.
You want to wipe that dimple off his face. Or better yet, steal it and put it in your pocket. “I hate you,” you groan, wiping your hands down your face in frustration. “Can’t you just tell me?”
He hums again. “I'll tell you when you’re ready.”
—
After a while, the morning schedule grew to be a bit too demanding. You and Jungwon kept falling asleep, often waking up covered in brine and suntanned limbs that weren’t always yours, but welcome nonetheless. However, because of your unexpected slumber, you began to miss the time you spent talking with him. Turns out, Jungwon did too, as he’s the one to suggest that you two meet up later in the day, when the beach goers return home for dinner. You couldn’t have come up with a better plan yourself.
After spending the day in the blazing sun with your friends, shopping in an outdoor mall and spending all of the weekly budget you set aside for yourself, you’re more than happy to jump into the water for a swim in your new bikini.
Jungwon watches you as you leisurely paddle about, ignoring as his eyes burn your skin despite the refreshing water. He pushes off the jetty and glides over to you, his tail trailing behind him much more gracefully than your flailing legs. And it’s not even that you’re a bad swimmer—you’re actually pretty decent—but next to Jungwon, you might as well be a piece of plastic floating next to a sweet little jellyfish.
“Let me help,” he says, reaching for your hands as he begins to notice you growing tired of treading water.
You push him with no real force, trying to swim away playfully as if your muscles aren’t begging for some reprieve. “I can swim fine, thank you,” you insist, kicking water up in hopes of annoying him.
But Jungwon, ever the most patient, doesn’t give in. “I know you can swim fine,” he reassures. “But still, let me help you.”
He doesn’t wait for your response before tugging you towards him by your ankle. You flip on your back, floating helplessly in the water as he holds your foot to his chest. He’s warm, unlike most sea creatures—at least, you assume—letting you feel the steady drum of his heart under the sole of your foot. It picks up slightly when you flash him a breathless smile, but you choose to ignore it for his sake. He can get quite bashful, you’ve begun to learn after the countless times you've caught him staring.
“You caught me,” you sigh, deciding to relax and let him take over. This is his domain after all.
He lightly pulls you towards him, letting go of your foot and instead hooking his arms around your waist. You drape your arms over his broad shoulders, trying your hardest not to think about how sturdy he feels under your palms. The flex of his shoulder muscle was definitely tempting—dare you say delicious—but alas, one must persist!
“I caught you,” he smiles, so close that your noses almost brush. However, it only lasts a brief second before he blushes and turns away, pretending there is something far more interesting on the left of you. You’re sure that the seagull that has been floating a few yards away for the last five minutes is not more captivating than you—if his glances are anything to go by—but you’ll ignore it. For now. “Relax. I got you.”
And relax, you do. Your arms and legs are spent from swimming around. So much for cooling off! Resting your head on Jungwon’s shoulder, you let the water decorating his skin cool the heat bubbling in your face. You hope he’s too absorbed in whatever it is he’s staring at to notice.
It doesn’t matter if he does notice anyway, you think. It’s not like anything would come of it. Seriously, he’s a whole different creature. There’s no world in which that could possibly fly. But for now, you’ll enjoy what you have and make the most of it.
“Is this okay?” you ask, more worried that he’s now holding up your entire bodyweight rather than your proximity to one another.
He nods, tucking his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. You’re sure you smell like the sea, but you’re also sure that he doesn’t mind. He literally lives in the ocean. “I like being close to you,” he says, as if it isn’t the most devastating thing for you to hear. But before you can even open your mouth to ask what he means, he swerves towards a different conversation. “What do you do when you’re not here with me?”
You lean back, now met with those same pair of eyes that consistently sweep you off your feet—literally. Jungwon leans away from you too, eyes flickering back and forth like he can’t decide where he would prefer to focus. It’s cute.
“Depends,” you reply, pushing his wet hair away from his forehead. He attempts to swat your hand away but fails. It’s not like he was really trying either way. “Sometimes I work, sometimes I go to my parents’ house. Most of the time, I’m with my friends if I’m not with you.”
“What are your parents like?”
“My mom’s cool,” you answer. You like when he asks you questions like this. It makes you feel like you can bring a piece of him with you when you leave the beach—almost as if he’s a regular human man and you’re a regular woman, just hanging out with her friend. Friend? Situationship? No. That sounds stupid. “My dad is kind of weird, though. I don’t know if you two would get along.”
Jungwon cocks his head to the side, confused. “Why not?”
You shrug, trying to think of the least creepy way to confess that your dad is very obsessed with sea creatures. “He just is.”
That’ll have to do. Jungwon nods, although he seems unsatisfied.
“What about your parents?”
Jungwon sighs, his fingers tracing swirls along the small of your back. It tickles, but you don’t mind. A funny look crosses his face, as if he’s hiding something from you, but you won’t pry. You like watching him think. Whenever Jungwon is deep in thought, he tends to purse his lips in a perfectly kissable way and look up towards the sky, as if the clouds will sketch out the answer for him. It never works, and he always ends up having to use his brain power instead. It’s still endearing nonetheless.
“My mom and dad are a little afraid of humans,” he admits. “They wouldn’t understand why I like spending time with you so much.”
“Oh,” you nod slowly, digesting this new information. Afraid of humans. “Why?”
“I don’t know how to put it,” he confesses, tugging you a little closer like he’s worried you’ll back away if he says the wrong thing. You begin to draw the same pattern on his shoulder, and that seems to calm him a little if the swish of his tail is anything to go by. “I guess it’s just unfamiliarity. The only times they interact are typically on a full moon, and that’s usually a dangerous time for both of us. I guess I’m lucky that you’re the only human I know.”
You shoot him a bewildered look, one that stops him cold. “Why is it dangerous?”
The swirls on your back stop, and Jungwon’s spine grows rigid, every bit the animal side of him you’re very well aware of whenever he asserts his strength over you or you catch sight of the gills on his side. “Let’s talk about something else.”
You nod, looking away from his suddenly stoic expression. Dangerous? You can understand why humans and merfolk don’t interact much for a series of reasons—fishing, poaching, oil spills… Besides, you’re not too sure humans would be all too kind to merfolk if they were to spot one in broad daylight. However, during the full moon? Why hadn’t he mentioned that to you before? It has been nearly a month since you’ve known Jungwon, and you’ve seen him nearly every day since that fateful night—safe for maybe twice when you caught a bizarre summer flu. Would he have told you if it weren’t for this conversation?
“What do you like to do with your friends?” he asks, trying to catch your eyes.
You flinch, suddenly scaring yourself with all of the possibilities of what his previous statement might mean. But when you look into his eyes, deeper than twilight, you know that he would never hurt you. Sure, he’s stronger. He’s faster. His nails are kind of sharp, and some of his teeth file into a point. However, he’s always been gentle with you. Soft spoken and kind. The sweetest out of anyone or anything you’ve ever met. And suddenly, you feel like crying for ever doubting Jungwon’s care for you. He always remembers everything you say, and asks questions the best he can, even if he doesn’t understand. He listens like it’s his lifeline, his duty, and watches you closely to make sure you don’t hurt yourself or aren’t growing tired of spending time with him. You think he might be the nicest person you’ve ever met, despite giving you that scar on your calf. But it’s something to remember him by; it’s a piece of him you can take with you. You know him, and he sure as hell knows you.
Reaching upwards, you delicately trace the underside of his jaw. His eyes widen slightly, shocked by your bold movement, but he melts into it as if he can’t help it. You wish you could watch him melt over and over again. He leans into your hand, chasing the touch and sighs, an airy sound that you would totally make fun of him for if you weren’t also completely invested in this moment.
“Talk. Just like we do,” you answer simply, poking the small freckle on the side of his chin.
He smiles softly, holding you even tighter if possible. “I hope you don’t talk with them exactly like how we talk,” he huffs, pouting.
God, you could kiss it off. Focus!
“Not exactly,” you reassure, allowing your eyes to wander to his mouth for a split second. You hope the triangle method hasn’t also infected the seven seas, and that the merfolk when Jungwon comes from are unaware of what it could mean. “We go out to eat, go to parties… sleepovers,” you sigh. “I like spending time with you more, though.”
Jungwon hopes you can’t notice, but he thinks his heart just skipped a beat before slamming against his ribcage. “Really?” he wonders.
You nod shyly, entranced by every small curve and line of his face. Jungwon follows your lead, examining every detail that makes you whole, and pretending as if he hasn’t been discreetly doing that the entire time.
One thing about you is that you’re usually always very composed. Very focused. He never watches your eyes wander, whereas he can’t seem to stop looking at you. He loves watching the way your lips form when you talk, when you smile, and he loves watching you think and nap and swim—despite it looking kind of funny to him—and how you breathe. Nothing you could do would be boring to him. You’re always interesting. He wonders how you do it.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks abruptly, as if he doesn’t see you every day.
You look at him, almost solemn. Tracing his jaw again, you allow yourself to relish in the comfort of him before you burst this little bubble you two have created for yourselves.
“I’m out all day, and then the girls are coming over to mine,” you groan, almost annoyed at the fact that you do have a life outside of swimming and lazing around with Jungwon. “Yunjin’s cousin Chaewon broke up with her partner finally, and we’re going to get drunk to celebrate her leaving that awful man.”
“Drunk?”
“That funny way I was acting when we first met,” you explain, now gliding your finger tips across his collarbone. It’s so dainty. You wonder how someone that strong could also seem so delicate. “It happens when you drink something called alcohol.”
He nods slowly, downtrodden. You can tell he’s upset that he won’t be able to see you tomorrow, and he knows that you can tell too. It’s not often that you two skip a day from seeing each other.
You hug him closer, tucking yourself into the crook of his neck. Jungwon hugs you back, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other arm cradles your head against him. You could so easily kiss his neck if you wanted. It’s right there, and your lips are practically pressed against it. But you can’t, and you won’t.
Pulling away, you point to your house—white with the porch and baby blue shutters—that sits in a row of houses that look down on the beach from their cliffside perch. He follows your finger, nearly pressing his cheek to yours to make sure he’s following the correct eyeline.
“That’s my house. Just look over there if you ever miss me, okay?” you tell him. He stares at your house for a good while, memorizing its shape and the houses neighboring yours.
“Okay,” he nods, looking to you once he feels it’s been sufficiently ingrained in his mind. “Maybe I’ll show up for this ‘break-up’ celebration.”
You snort. “As if.”
—
You hate to admit it, but you’re kind of having fun right now.
Everyone’s on their second glass of wine, snacks and candy thrown across your coffee table to fuel the gossip of tonight’s gathering. Your friends are all screaming and giggling, cozily lounging about in their pajamas. And you hate to admit it, you really do, but you’re having a blast.
Of course, you missed seeing Jungwon today. You had a comically horrible shift at your job today that you would’ve loved to tell him about, but there’s always tomorrow! Maybe you have grown a little too attached to him. Although you’ve seen your friends heaps of times over this summer, your mind has always been somewhere else—somewhere where Jungwon is present.
But now, as Chaewon explains how she found her ex’s Tinder profile and how she confronted him, you’re okay with Jungwon taking a back seat for now. You have your girls. They have you. All is well.
“And then, when I confronted him about it, this motherfucker had the audacity to blame it on me!” Chaewon all but shrieks as she slams her hands down on your coffee table, rattling the array of wine glasses you snagged from the back of your cupboard. All of you gasp, shoveling popcorn and sour gummies into your mouths as you lean in, fully invested. “He tried to tell me that if I listened to him more whenever he talked about his dumb fucking video games, then he wouldn’t have cheated. Bitch, if you had given me better head, maybe I would’ve been more inclined to listen!”
Lara howls with laughter, as Yunjin and Daniela run a lap around your living room to calm themselves down. You damn near choke on your wine, letting the rosé warm your cheeks. You’re happy.
But you’re even happier to hear the doorbell ring for pizza.
“Fucking finally!” Yunjin exclaims, reclaiming her spot on your couch next to her cousin. “I’m starving.”
“Thank fuck—they got here early,” you say, not even bothering to check the Uber Eats status on your phone. You hop up from your spot on the rug, shuffling down the hallway towards your front door. Peaking into the bathroom, stationed right next to the door, you check to make sure you don’t look too flustered—just in case this is someone you remember from high school and want to impress for some reason. After deciding your hair looks voluminous and your tits sit great in your tank top, you decide you’re certainly presentable enough to face this pizza delivery man.
However, upon opening the door, you realize that there is no pizza delivery man. In fact, there isn’t even a pizza.
You recognize his eyes first. Hell, you’d recognize those eyes out of a billion. You could’ve been blinded by the sun, scorched by acid, and hit by a car before you wouldn’t be able to recognize them. However, caught off guard by being face to face with a pair of eyes you’re familiar with, it takes your brain a few seconds to register one very crucial factor: you’ve never seen these eyes other than at the beach.
You aren’t at the beach. You’re at your house.
Not only are you at your house, but your house is up a hill. One needs legs to walk up a hill, or anything for that matter. So why would these pair of eyes, one that you’re both very elated and very confused to see, be at your front door step? Oh, only for one reason of course!
Jungwon has sprung fucking legs.
“Hi,” he smiles shyly.
A bodily reaction that one could only describe as both becoming a human rocket and rigor mortis occurs within you all at once. Your body shakes so violently that you’ve gone still. You’re practically frozen. Mouth opening and closing rather quickly, you struggle to find the words you need to be able to articulate how you feel in this very moment. Jungwon seems pleased. He even has the nerve to giggle a little bit as he watches your brain work over time.
Part of you wants to think you were roofied. Why would you have been roofied? You don’t know, not that there is ever a justifiable reason to be roofied. But maybe your friends slipped something to you that you didn’t second guess enough—maybe an edible? Yes. It has to be an edible. Why else would you be picturing Jungwon on your front step with fucking legs? Did you seriously miss him that bad? How pathetic!
But when Yunjin shouts for you to hurry up with the pizza, you realize this is no bad trip and this is no hallucination. Jungwon is here—at your front door—with legs. And he’s fucking naked.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” you scream, all of the neurons in your brain suddenly firing all at once.
Jungwon yelps as you tug him inside, stumbling over his feet—feet that you’re not entirely sure he knows how to work yet—as you shove him into your bathroom. Slamming the door shut behind him, you run to your bedroom, ignoring the concerned looks of your friends as you nearly wipe out while turning the corner.
Shuffling through your drawers and closet, you eventually find a pair of sweatpants that you snagged from an ex-boyfriend and a top that you’re sure your dad gave to you as a sleep shirt if the sheer enormity of it is enough to go by. Hopefully, it’ll fit Jungwon. Although, it seems that he has absolutely no problem with being in the fucking nude.
Wait. He was naked.
You were so surprised to see him that you barely had a chance to recognize the severity of the situation. Not only could your neighbors have seen some random man—although not random to you—standing on your front porch, but they might have seen him butt-fucking-naked. Thankfully, he had the decency to not fully expose himself. At least, you think.
You rush back to the front bathroom before any of your friends can catch onto the problem at hand. You fling the door open, Jungwon practically plastered against the wall as he looks at you and the clothes in your hands. Glancing towards the ceiling in hopes of giving him some privacy, you offer him the clothes.
“I don’t really have anything else for you to wear, and you can’t be fucking naked in front of me,” you say.
Jungwon just stares at the clothes, confused. You shake your hands aggressively, and he eventually takes it, trying his best to figure out how to put the clothes on.
Jungwon tries to stick his foot through one of the holes, but he ends up losing his balance and nearly crashing to the floor. You manage to catch his arm and tug him up straight, but not before he knocks over a soap bottle and a couple of decorative items on the bathroom sink.
“Shh!” you hush, accidentally glancing down in attempts to see if he had hurt himself at all. But upon catching a glimpse of the skin on his thigh, your eyes shoot straight back upwards. “My friends will hear you.”
Eventually, he does okay with the pants, only stumbling a few times. He finds his balance by gripping the sink counter and is able to get his feet through the sweatpants, wriggling them up over his new legs. Finally looking away from the ceiling, you come face to face with a flustered and bashful Jungwon. Fuck, maybe you did miss him.
“Hi. Sorry,” he whispers, smiling like the situation is funny. And to him, it is. He hasn’t seen you lose your cool this bad since the first time he met you, and he couldn’t even register how out of character that was because he didn’t know you then. Now he knows you. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits, handing the shirt back to you.
“Oh,” you blink, taking the cotton fabric in your hands. You bunch the fabric up towards the neck, standing on your toes so you can tug it over his head. His face pops right out, giving you a sheepish grin. For the first time since he’s stepped foot on your property, you return the favor. You guide his arms through the sleeves, the t-shirt sitting quite comfortably on his broad frame. The pants are a little long, sweeping the floor a bit whenever he shuffles about, but it’ll do. For anyone else, they’ll think it’s a fashion choice. “Do… Do these feel okay? Are you comfortable?”
He looks down towards the clothes he’s managed to put on, gaze returning to your face as quickly as it left. “I think so,” he nods. “I don’t really know what they’re supposed to feel like.”
“Right,” you say, because, really, what else is there to say?
You finally take a good look at Jungwon, now that he’s dressed and you feel like you have permission to ogle a bit. He’s dry, for starters. No matter how long he suns himself, it seems like his hair is always wet. Now it’s… well… dry. It doesn’t seem to be damaged from the copious amounts of salt water that have touched it over the years; it seems quite soft and much longer than you originally thought as he blows a strand away from his forehead. He’s taller than you, and you’re not sure why that surprises you. His tail was quite long. But that was a tail. Not legs. His shoulders are broad, that of which you already knew, but seeing them hidden by the silly shirt draping his frame is sort of driving you crazy. You miss them. “How… what…?”
He sighs and takes a shaky step towards you. Instinctively, you reach your arms out to prevent him from falling but he just wraps his arms around you, simple and plain. His heart raps wildly against his chest, and it’s probably due to the excitement of the day but you selfishly hope it’s for you.
“Jungwon, how the fuck did you get here?” you mumble into the t-shirt, not quite ready to let go just yet. You hate to admit it, but perhaps your heart is also pumping a bit faster than usual. And perhaps it’s because of him.
“My friend told me a story,” he starts, pulling away from you so he can look into your eyes. He’s beaming. “That some merfolk can turn into humans. So I tried it, and it works!” he grins, shaking your shoulders in excitement. “Not everyone can do it, apparently. But I can!”
You look down at his legs. “I can’t believe you’re a fucking human.”
“I’m a fucking human!” he shouts, nearly toppling over from sheer excitement. “Now I can see you all the time.” His eyes are so sincere and your heart nearly bursts.
“Yeah,” you nod, smiling ear to ear. “You can.”
Just then, a knock sounds from the door behind you and Jungwon practically jumps out of his skin.
“Who the fuck is in the bathroom with you?!” Yunjin shrieks.
Riiight, my friends are here, you think. Shit.
—
Explaining Jungwon to the girls was a lot easier than you thought it was going to be. Of course, you didn’t tell the truth. That wouldn’t go over well. But what they won’t know, won’t kill them. After successfully explaining to them that Jungwon was a friend from school who surprised you by coming into town, they were more than accepting of his presence. After all, a cute boy showing up on your door step for an impromptu visit? They’re just happy you’re back in the dating game—or so they think.
It’s funny seeing Jungwon sit amongst your friends, the stillness in a sea of tipsy giggles. Jungwon stays quiet most of the time, eagerly listening to all of their stories, but mostly enthralled by the amount of human snacks he now easily has at his disposal.
When everyone leaves, and you’re all alone with him, you’re not quite sure of what to do. Considering you’ve been alone with him many times before, it’s almost comical. But now he’s in your house. He’s human. Both are facts that you never thought would actually be true.
You stay up with him for a long time after your friends leave. Still shocked as you watch the young man curled up in the corner of your couch, fascinated by the way his toes wiggle and scrunch. He quickly learns the art of footsies, as he can’t help but touch you, even as the two of you sit on opposite ends of the couch. And although you’re not exactly a fan of feet, you don’t mind entertaining a game of footsies as long as it’s with Jungwon.
He’s amazed by the TV, eyes reflecting purple and red and all kinds of neon as he does his best to absorb the new information he’s receiving. It’s like a speed course on human behavior. Eventually, you have to turn off the television so he’ll pay attention to you, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll just have to watch more of this another time if you let him.
Upon intense questioning, Jungwon reiterates what he told you earlier but in greater detail. His friend, Sunghoon, had told him of a long forgotten, and seemingly taboo, tale of how some merfolk could walk on land. He said it was a trend centuries ago, before the oceans had been polluted by human behavior. It was seen as a form of entertainment. Sometimes it was done for pleasure. However, once humans began to destroy the sea with their many devices, merfolk stopped trying to blend in with and learn from humans. It was too hazardous.
Jungwon shares that he tried to gather more information, asking his elders if it was possible for merfolk to become human but the conversation was always shut down. It wasn’t until his grandmother indulged in a secret that her grandmother used to be a land walker. That she would bathe herself in light and join the humans at her leisure. She warned that that was ages ago; times have changed. However, this meant that he also had the ability to do the same.
He followed his grandmother's instructions, finding a quiet and safe place to bathe in the sun. According to him, it took awhile. But once the sun was set, he had begun to sprung legs.
“Was it painful?” you asked, rubbing your foot along his calf.
Jungwon shakes his head slowly, watching the movement of your leg. “It was sort of uncomfortable. But it's not painful.”
He shares how he practiced walking, deciding to disguise himself in the dark of night to prevent anyone from seeing him. Just in case, he said. He said it was hard, and how he’s not sure how humans are able to do it so easily. Or how they’re able to run! That’s a whole new challenge, but he’s willing to learn.
“I remember you pointed to where your house was, and I just tried my best to walk there,” he said, now moving to be closer to you. He’s still trying to understand that his legs get in the way, so after his knee digs into your leg uncomfortably, he shifts to tuck his legs beneath himself. “I was really tired but when I saw you, I couldn’t feel it anymore,” he smiles, slightly taller than you from the way he’s perched. “I was so happy to see you.”
“I was so surprised,” you confess, covering your cheeks out of exasperation. Your face heats under his grin.
“You looked kind of silly,” he laughs. Jungwon drops his jaw and widens his eyes cartoonishly, making fun of your reaction.
You shove him over, causing him to fall onto his back and kick his feet up in the air. He narrowly misses you, but you don’t mind. You’re too happy to have him with you.
In the middle of your conversation, Jungwon passes out, sprawled across your couch in a way you’ve never seen a human body positioned before. It’s his first day as a human, so you decide to cut him some slack. Wrapping him in a blanket, as well as leaving an extra—in case he gets cold—you trudge to your bedroom and miss him despite him existing in the next room.
Early the next morning, while Jungwon is still asleep, you rush out to the store to pick up a few things. As handsome as he is, he cannot live in those ratty sweatpants forever. Guessing what his size might be, you pick up a few pairs of jeans and t-shirts that you think he might like. You try to stick to softer material, not wanting to irritate his skin. You’ve also never had to buy underwear for a man before, but hopefully you did a good job. Nobody has ever gone wrong with Calvin Klein. Besides, the idea of seeing the waistband of his underwear poking of the top of his pants kind of makes your nipples—
Jungwon is wide awake when you get home. Hair still mussed from sleep, but he figured out how to get the television working—it’s set to some old movie that you’re not sure you’ve seen. However, he seems transfixed. He rises from his spot, walking much more steadily than yesterday as he greets you with a hug. He smells like the breeze and sleep and something you want to have by your side forever.
He watches you cook breakfast, clinging to your side like he’s afraid you might leave again. It’s cute, despite how warm he is. You two eat breakfast on your porch, discussing your plans for the day and asking if he’d like to join. Of course, Jungwon would be insane to say no.
After breakfast, you show him his clothes and force him to do a fashion show for you. He doesn’t quite understand why you're so excited, but he’d do anything to make you smile.
“Do you like it?” you ask, sitting on the edge of your bed as he struts about your room.
He looks down at the shirt and jeans he has on, shrugging absentmindedly. He thinks they’re fine. It’s not like he knows what would look good. He feels like he’s kind of dressed like the guy he saw on your TV not too long ago, and he thought he was cool. But besides that, he doesn’t really know what would look good on him. What he does know is that you look good.
You sit on the edge of your bed, biting down a smile as your eyes rake over his frame three times over. He likes the way you clasp your hands on your lap, doing your best to be polite and patient although he knows you are fighting demons to not shout out your opinion. He also quite likes the crinkle that forms in the corner of your eyes as you try your best not to giggle. He very much likes that he can see the curve of your tits over the hem of your top as you clasp your hands even tighter. He’s not sure if he can tell you that though. He’ll have to watch more television to see if that’s something that is okay to say to a girl.
“It’s nice,” is what Jungwon settles on telling you, and you smile even brighter than he thought possible. He could get used to this.
You decide to take him around town for the day, deciding fresh air and social interaction is just what Jungwon needs in order to understand human behavior. He is more than thrilled to be involved. You can practically hear your father nagging you for housing merfolk, especially after his near death experience. But Jungwon would never do that to you.
He had no idea that there were so many places—stores, you call them—where humans could buy things. He’s entranced by the grocery store, amazed by the selection of gummies that he now has access to. The concept of not touching everything he sees is a bit new to him, and you have to inform him that people tend to find it quite rude if you touch every single fruit in the produce section. However, always the avid listener, he follows your instructions until they become second nature.
Jungwon is shocked by your ability to stay focused in such lively places. There’s so much noise—much different from the quiet roar of the sea. He’s surprised to hear you talk about how quiet your town is, and how there are even busier areas where humans live called the city. He’s not sure if he could survive living in a place like that.
There are also so many formalities. Saying please and thank you and no, you go ahead to every small interaction. He’s fascinated with your ability to memorize all these small things. Maybe, one day, he’ll be a master of them too.
You take him out to eat, just at some small diner not too far from your house. He lets you pick something for him to eat, since he’s still not all that familiar with human food. The waitress is nice, but he thinks you’re nicer—laughing at all his jokes and smiling softly while he rambles about what his favorite part of the day was so far. You hate to say it, but you’re completely enamoured by him.
You enjoy how he purses his lips when he finds something you say amusing, but doesn’t quite want to announce it. He likes how you play with your earlobe when you get shy. Small things. He barely even realizes how hungry he is until the food arrives, he’s too preoccupied with you. But he thinks maybe his second favorite thing—you being first—is human food. The burger you ordered him seems to be quite a hit. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a person eat that fast, not even half of your meal finished before he cleans the entirety of his plate. Jungwon isn’t very picky, it seems.
The days pass by like this, quietly but comfortably. Jungwon slowly learns more and more about what it means to be human, the behaviors and the mentality. You see him grow more comfortable out in the open, no longer adhered to your side, and more willing to try things on his own.
Despite his growing independence, the two of you grow closer than before, if that’s even possible. He helps you cook and clean, entertaining you with silly stories or questions that you can’t help but answer. It’s domestic. You even bring him into work one day, letting him sit in the back with a movie on your laptop while you bore yourself to death. Jungwon never seems to mind. He never complains. If anything, he’s just happy to be with you.
Jungwon only lasts one more night on your couch. By the third night, he comes shuffling into your room, lightly rapping against the door right as you’re about to fall asleep. Flinching awake, you turn on your lamp as you squint at the young man standing in your doorway. He stands there awkwardly, scratching his neck in embarrassment.
“What’s wrong, Jungwon? Are you okay?” you mumble, drowsiness laced in your voice.
He nods quickly, not wanting to worry you. “I”m okay. I’m okay. I just-” he huffs, shifting his weight repeatedly. You can tell he’s searching for the words, whether he has them or not, you’re not sure. Sometimes you wish you could speak his language, maybe it would make it easier for you to understand him. “I don’t want to sleep on the couch.”
This stuns you. This might be the first time you’ve heard him complain.
“Why? Is it uncomfortable?” you ask, sitting up. The neck of your sleep shirt slides down one shoulder and Jungwon’s eyes follow the movement. “I can give you some extra pillows if you want.”
“No, it’s not uncomfortable,” he replies, shaking his head once again. You can see him grow more hesitant by the second, playing with his fingers as he tries to decipher what would be the most appropriate phrasing. He’s not sure how to communicate what he wants from you. None of the movies he’s studied over the past few days have shown him how to do this.
“What’s up, Jungwon?” you ask once again, your eyes softening.
Jungwon grows weak, melting into the warmth of your gaze. He feels a heat stir in his lower stomach that he’s still trying to navigate with his new body. Finally, after rationalizing that you’ve never seriously berated him for any of his thoughts or questions, he decides to bite the bullet. “Can I sleep in your bed?”
“Oh!” you gasp, shocked by his forwardness. “Like… you want to swap?”
He shakes his head at your misunderstanding. “No!” he damn near shouts. “I was thinking we could share?”
His suggestion makes your toes curl and a giggle bubbles up from your stomach. Feeling like a school girl again, you nod slowly, lifting the covers for him to join you. He quickly shuffles over, a shy smile spreading across his pink lips like frosting. You wish you could kiss it and have it stain your mouth. He slides under your covers, pulling them right up to his chin. It was hard for him to imagine something as comfortable as this, having only slept on the couch for the last few nights. Now he knows.
“Why’d you want to sleep in here?” you ask, shutting the light off as you lie back down. “You can be honest and tell me that the couch was uncomfortable. I got it second hand.”
You can hear the pillow case rustle underneath his head as he denies your comment. “Just missed you is all,” he admits.
Suddenly, it’s as if all the air is sucked out of the room and you’re left pleading for oxygen. “But I’m only one room away,” you chuckle breathlessly, knowing that you subconsciously—or consciously—have been missing him in your sleep as well.
“I know,” he says, moving closer to you. He can feel your body heat interacting with his, absorbing and morphing into something new entirely. “Still missed you, though.”
Jungwon sleeps with you every night after that. And every night, you rest easier and more deeply than you ever have.
You show him all kinds of things. Your favorite TV shows, the mall, and even the gym. However, you had to leave as soon as some man approached you and asked for your number. Jungwon didn’t seem to take much pleasure in the idea of other men approaching you.
“I was literally right there,” he pouted as he sat in the front seat of your car. “I don’t get why he would even approach you when I was there.”
You smile fondly, reaching over to rub his shoulder. He seems to calm down at your touch. “Maybe he thought you were just a friend.”
Jungwon whips his head to the side. If it were biologically possible, you would believe that his eyes grew ten shades darker. Apparently, you need to make a mental note to never say something so supposedly ludicrous to Jungwon ever again. “I’m yours,” he says.
Whatever that means.
To make up for the fiasco that happened at the gym, you decide to take Jungwon to a place you figured he’d really like: the carnival.
Lara has been bugging you all week, blowing up your phone incessantly and asking if you’d join her and some of your friends at the carnival this weekend. Usually, you’d try to ditch. The carnival has occurred every summer since you were little, and you’re sure it started way before that. With overpriced tickets, overpriced food, and overpriced games, you typically try to avoid the carnival altogether and save your wallet from the damage you will inevitably suffer. However, after seeing Jungwon’s eyes light up at the thought, you decided—after very little contemplation—that attending said overpriced carnival wouldn’t be awful.
Your friends are surprised to see Jungwon, considering they thought he was only supposed to stay with you for a few days, but are happy nonetheless. They drag him every which way, encouraging him to throw darts at balloons and make the tiny tea cup he manages to squeeze into spin as fast as he can. Surprisingly, he does very well with being tossed and spun around—it must do with his exposure to relentless sea currents. However, after experiencing a severe case of vertigo, you manage to convince your friends to take it easy on the rides and sit down for a while.
“Having fun?” you ask Jungwon, sipping on a lemonade. It’s more water than lemon and sugar, but it’s cool and helps bring you back down to earth.
“Mhm,” he hums, nodding around a bite of fried dough. The powdered sugar clings to the side of his lips and you wipe it away with your thumb. Consequently, your friends giggle from their corner of the picnic table. You can’t tell if it’s the vibrant lights of the carnival, but Jungwon’s cheeks grow a soft shade of rose. “Are you?”
“Yeah,” you reply, snagging a piece of his snack. “I don’t usually have fun at these kinds of things, but I’m having fun with you.”
“You don’t like carnival rides?” he asks, stealing a sip of your lemonade. He doesn’t bother to wipe the straw before or after.
You chuckle, shaking your head. “No, I like them. These ones are just kind of lame. There’s much bigger ones at other places.”
“Like in Diary of a Wimpy Kid?”
“Exactly.”
Jungwon nods slowly, flexing his fingers before he clasps his hands in his lap. He looks upward towards the sky, amazed at the fact that he can still see the stars through all this light. Tracing them with his eyes, he finds your silhouette in the stars. Why his family would ever want to keep him from finding and staying with you is beyond his comprehension.
“I’d like to ride one of those rollercoasters someday,” he shares after being quiet for sometime. He’s still gazing upwards, eyes sparkling like fireworks. You stare at the dainty mole on his chin, wishing that you could press a kiss to it. If you could, you would give him the world.
“You will,” you say, reaching for his hands. He looks at you, the sparkle in his eyes never dimming. “We’ll go.”
Yunjin coughs obnoxiously, the rest of your friends snickering evilly. You’re going to kill them. You turn your head ever so slowly, wishing the horrific music that was playing in your head would play aloud for once so it could add to this intimidating vibe you are going for. But alas, it doesn’t, and you have to agree to shoot daggers at them with your eyes instead.
“We’re going to go ride the ferris wheel,” she announces, standing up from the picnic bench. The other girls follow suit. “Do you want to come or are you guys going to keep acting like freaks and hold hands?”
You roll your eyes, but when Jungwon doesn’t make a move to let go of your hand, you don’t either. Besides, your hands were getting quite cold from holding your lemonade, so really he’s just helping you out. Right? Right.
“We’ll go, we’re just gonna clean up first. We’ll meet you there.”
After you and Jungwon clean up the rest of the mess left on the table, you join the girls only to be yelled at by a couple for trying to cut in line. Trying your hardest to show the best side of your humanity, you drag Jungwon to the back of the line. Normally, you would have no problem cussing the girl and her unfortunate looking boyfriend out, but again, you want Jungwon to see your good side. He’s already seen you damn near belligerent and screaming for help, you might as well try to preserve what little remains of your dignity. Besides, you don’t mind being separated from your friends. It just means more one-on-one time with Jungwon. (Not like you haven’t had plenty of that over the last few days.) You’ll meet up with them once the ride is over.
The carnival barker gestures to your car, buckling the two of you in. Jungwon rapidly pounds his feet up and down in excitement, a habit you’re not sure when he developed but you’ve grown to be affectionate towards. Your knees touch, and neither of you pull away, Jungwon enamoured with the idea of riding the ferris wheel, and you, enamoured with him.
The ride jolts with a start, shocking Jungwon. As he flinches, he reaches for your hand, a welcomed surprise.
He babbles mindlessly, about how he’s never imagined being up this high in the air before, and how he hopes the ride doesn’t fail. He tells you how he can’t tell if he’s jittery because of the height or because of all of the sugar he just consumed, and you just laugh, squeezing his hand tighter. When your palms start to grow sweaty, neither of you mind because it’s the two of you and whatever you give, he’ll take.
“I’m so happy right now,” he admits, smiling so wide that his eyes turn into crescent moons. You grin too, flashing him a smile as bright as the moon.
“Me too,” you agree, squeezing his hand tighter.
“This is so cool!” he damn near shrieks, rocking the cart a bit. You reach for the bar instinctively, eyes growing wide in a way that makes him cackle. You whack his leg, and despite the sting in his thigh, he doesn’t move away. “You can see everything up here.”
“You think that’s our jetty?” you ask, pointing to a collection of rocks that are faintly carved out above the sea line.
Jungwon squints, trying his best to follow your line of view. “No,” he shakes his head, knocking his shoulder with yours. “Ours would be farther that way,” he says, gesturing in some direction.
“How do you know?” you question, squinting at the young man.
“Because I know the ocean better than you do,” he mutters, in a voice so matter of fact you’re certain he had to pick it up from someone else because no way in hell you would teach him to speak to you like that. “Besides, I…”
You watch Jungwon, observing how his eyes shift elsewhere, the smile in his face slipping into more of a confused gape. You call his name, wondering what has caught his attention so abruptly. Following his eyeline, you spot a car ahead of you. A couple—perhaps the one from earlier, you’re not sure—are sitting closely together, wrapped in each other's arms. Despite being multiple feet in front of you, it’s clear what they are doing, and it seems like Jungwon has also caught on. They kiss each other slowly, a passion you would hope they’d save for the privacy of their own home rather than the public eye. But as always, there has to be that couple.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, growing confused by his sudden reaction. “Do you not know what kissing is?”
Jungwon tears his gaze from them, looking both scandaled and offended by your comment. “Of course I know what kissing is. I’m not stupid,” he scoffs, that crinkle between his brow appearing.
“Just checking!” you shrug, not sure of what to say. You haven’t seen him this amazed by something since he first turned on the television. “I wasn’t sure if merfolk kissed or not.”
“Of course we fucking kiss!” he yelps, a slight edge to his tone that you find somewhat comical. “I’ve just… I’ve just never seen people kiss like that before,” he confesses, squeezing your palm.
His eyes drift back to the couple, curious and imploring. You never quite thought of how merfolk kiss until now. Is it softer? Harder? Does it mean something else to them, as it means to humans?
“I think I’d like to try though.”
What?
Now, if you aren’t mistaken, you recall having some knowledge of kissing under your belt. And by some, you mean a sufficient amount. You’re not one to dilly dally, and after years of drunk parties and dares, you’ve kissed enough people to probably last a lifetime. To put it plainly, you get around. However, when Jungwon looks at you like that, with his eyes all wide and shiny, you feel like you’re twelve again. You’re not sure of what to do or what to say. He would only say that if he wanted to kiss you, right? No way he meant someone else, he doesn’t even know other girls besides your friends and he only really talks to them when it comes to you. Unless he likes men?
Jungwon calls your name, the warmth of his palm on your thigh is sudden but welcomed. He’s closer than you remember him being, but you can’t find it within yourself to back away. You can see the way his eyes crinkle slightly with a soft smile, and the way his lips curl upwards. The dimple on his cheek calls your name in a tone so sweet you feel light-headed, and you’re certain that the small giggle that slips past his lips—were they always that pretty?—is the most glorious thing you’ve ever heard. You know you’re supposed to hear the ocean if you find a conch shell and press it to your ear, but you wish you could hear his voice.
He calls your name again and you shake your head, clearing the fog that plagues your mind. “What?” you blurt, eyes wide and glossy. Jungwon thinks you’re so pretty.
“I want to kiss you,” he says, slow and steady but the twitch of his fingers reveal his excitement. “Is that okay?”
You want to tell him a hundred things. You want to tell him how lucky you are to have nearly been destroyed by him that night, and if you knew then what you know now, you’re positive that you would’ve let him although you’re certain he would never hurt you. You want to tell him that you think he’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen on planet Earth, and that it sucks that he’s not entirely the same species as you, and vice versa. You want to tell him that he’s your best friend, and that you truly, sincerely hope that you’re his. But all you manage to say, with severe effort, is: “Um, sure. Yeah.”
Jungwon has kissed people. This much is true. It’s common amongst merfolk—to kiss—as they are sexual and romantic beings. He’s kissed dozens of beings, human and merfolk. He’s kissed to survive, just as he kisses to kill. However, he never knew that kissing could feel like this.
He leans in slowly, feeling you practically melt against him the second his lips touch yours. The first thing he realizes is how soft you are, and the second is how good you taste. Your palm presses to his chest and his heart instantly warms. The kiss is short and soft, but once he pulls away, he falls right back into it. At this point, he doesn’t even notice if the ferris wheel is moving or if it has stopped, because he feels like he’s floating on top of the world. He can still taste the powdered sugar on your lips, and when he slips his hands around the base of your neck, your mouth opens and he can taste the remnants of lemonade on your tongue.
You hum against his lips, gripping his shirt so fiercely in your trembling fingers you worry for a fraction of a second that you might rip a hole in it. But when Jungwon presses closer, a small sound, light and airy, slips from his mouth as he moves his lips against yours, and all worries you have are left for dead.
One of Jungwon’s hands slips away from your jaw, an action you hardly notice as he nips your bottom lip as a distraction. He scoops your leg onto his lap, fingers brushing over the bare skin of your knee. If it weren’t for being on a damn ferris wheel, you’re certain Jungwon would have you straddling his lap by now. But you are on a ferris wheel, and you are in public. And if the bulge pressing against your leg and the ache between your thighs are to mean anything, they mean that you need to stop or else you might just end up letting him fuck you right here, twenty feet in the air.
“Jungwon,” you murmur breathlessly against his lips. You move to backaway, but he just follows you, eyes closed and a blissful look blanketed across his face. You giggle and he giggles back, squeezing your thigh and sucking on your bottom lip. “Jungwon,” you repeat, a little more firmly this time. He lets you push him away, eyes trained on your lips as he licks his own. It’s official, he’s decided. He’s obsessed with your taste. “We’re in public.”
He begrudgingly tears his eyes from your mouth, kiss-bitten and swollen, to look around. After reminding himself of where you two are, together, he nods slowly. Turning back to you, he moves to fix your hair, and despite it not staying in its respective place, he still looks at you like you hung the moon and stars.
“I forgot,” is all he says, before he leans in one last time to kiss you.
The ride home is filled with gentle touches and even fonder looks. Jungwon follows you into your house, just as he always does. He watches you as you brush your teeth, smiling around his own toothbrush as the foam from the toothpaste forms small bubbles on the corners of his mouth. He observes you as you do your skin care, sitting on the toilet lid as he plays with the hem of your pajama shorts. It doesn’t suggest anything other than him wanting to be close to you, and you’re not sure if you’re frustrated by the lack of underlying meaning or content with his patience.
Jungwon snuggles next to you once you finally go to bed, nose pressed to your neck and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. He kind of makes you hot and bothered when he speaks in a voice so low you’re certain you hear waves crash in his tone.
“Good day?” you ask, still able to see his eyes shine in the light of the growing and glowing moon.
He nods, brushing his lips over yours. “Very good day,” he says, sealing the deal with a kiss that makes your heart swell so large you fear it might break a rib.
He’s warm against your side and real, and the rise and fall of his chest lulls you to sleep. You dream of his touch, cradled in his arms, excited for tomorrow.
When you wake the next morning, he’s gone.
—
It’s been a week since you last saw Jungwon.
When you woke up without his warmth, you were almost in denial. But after checking your living room, kitchen, bathrooms, and balcony about three times, you were certain it could be no mistake. He can’t drive, so there’s no way he could’ve gone far. But when you ran around town, checking all of the places he would’ve known and been drawn to, pajama shorts still on and hair half styled, you began to lose hope. He was not at your house, not at any stores, and not at the beach. And once a few hours have passed, you realize he’s gone. Jungwon is not coming back.
You tried to be the slightest bit hopeful. Once the sun had set, you walked along the shoreline, calling his name. You prayed that no one would be around to hear your calls. If someone were to ask who you were looking for, you might think you could lie and say your dog, but Jungwon isn’t a suitable name for a dog. It’s only suitable for him. But after hours of searching, and sitting against the cool rock of your special jetty, do you finally relent to the cold, hard truth.
Your friends chalk up your behavior as you missing your friend. They don’t get much information from you, only a quick comment of how he went home, but they can tell you’re upset. So after your third day of wallowing, they grow desperate to see you smile.
It’s only after a series of shopping trips and movie nights do you start to feel better. When you’re alone, it’s easy to think of Jungwon and wonder why he left; with your friends, your mind stays busy. They make you laugh at stupid jokes and gasp at juicy gossip. Daniela fills you in on this new guy she’s started talking to, and you only have to push down your jealousy slightly before genuine joy for her bubbles over.
By the end of the week, you’re beginning to see a future where you feel normal again. It’s not now, but it will be someday. Eventually, Jungwon will be a memory just like your kindergarten crush, and the thought of him won’t sting as much as it does presently. Besides, when you stop to think about it, it’s probably for the best. He’s literally from the ocean. He’s a completely different species, not entirely human. It’s not like you could’ve dated. Your dad wouldn’t have really liked him anyway.
By the time the weekend rolls around, Lara mentions that there’s been a rumor about another party at the beach floating about. The second you hear about it, you’re in. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten shitfaced with your friends, and without having to worry about waking up at the asscrack of dawn to see Jungwon, you’re more than willing to drink some cheap liquor and face the consequences the next day.
Yunjin brings the alcohol and Lara brings the mixers, and eventually, you’re all pleasantly buzzed. Trodding down to the beach in your cute outfits and bikinis, you feel normal. There was a life before Jungwon, just as there will be a life after him. You will not let the absence of a man be what ruins your good time. Your P.J. (Post-Jungwon) life starts right now!
You mingle and flirt, and even let some random guy feel you up. And although his touch doesn’t feel as good as Jungwon’s, it’s good to know that you still got it. But the more and more that you try to convince yourself that you don’t miss him, you begin to realize that it isn’t true. You do miss him. A lot. It’s borderline humiliating.
Maybe it’s the drinks and a couple of hits from some joint your friends passed around, or maybe it’s because you’re overstimulated from the sand that you can’t seem to brush off your legs, but you’re starting to feel like you’re going to cry.
“I’m gonna go pee,” you slur to Daniela, who just nods before returning to talk to some girl you vaguely remember from high school.
You stumble your way through the crowd, sure that you may have gotten the odd glance here or there but who cares? You’re beginning to feel dizzy, your legs feel heavy and your body feels tingly and suddenly you come to recognize just how drunk you are. Mission accomplished, but at what cost?
“Shit,” you grumble, leaning against a rock for support as you catch your breath. You look up, hoping that focusing on the stars would help you sober up.
Your body keeps drifting away from you, a baby rocked to sleep, but your mind stays still on Jungwon. Why did he leave? Did he get what he wanted? A kiss? That’s a stupid thing to want from someone. If he was going to be that selfish, he might as well have fucked you and then dipped. But a kiss and dip? No one in the history of the world has ever heard of something as lame as that. However, you’re beginning to believe that you’re patient zero.
The stars spin, but once you spot the full moon, your body becomes yours again. It’s brighter than you’ve ever seen it, an iridescent light beaming across the water. The ripples in the waves illuminate your path in hughes of white, blue, and green; a perfect spotlight for your evening walk. You swore it would clear your mind and reestablish your footing, but still, you somehow always end up here: the jetty.
Sitting down at your usual spot, you dip your toes into the water and swirl them around. Your feet drag through the water slowly, your scar catching the light briefly. The moon is pale and bright and big, and you wish Jungwon was here to see it with you. He is, but he’s not worried about the moon.
Despite not being in the right state of mind, the hair on your arms pricks up, a danger sensed before your mind is even aware of it. Your skin tingles as it circles the water, hypnotized by the patterns it creates in the foam. You feel a pair of eyes.
As you look up, you spot only a silhouette, but you know exactly who it belongs to. You always have and you always will. Although you’re certain you hear a song so beautiful that it makes you want to tear your skin off, suddenly your ears fill with wax and your emotions overtake the melody, creating a harsh dissonance.
“You have some fucking nerve,” you spit, pulling your legs out of the water and crouching on your knees. He doesn’t move. “Kissing all up on me, touching me, sleeping in my house!”
You can see him cock his head to the side, but with the way the moon is positioned in the sky, you can’t observe his face. Sincerely, you hope he’s hurt. Maybe not crying—you’re a little afraid you might fold if he is—but hurt.
“I should slap the shit out of you for leaving like that,” you spit, clawing at the rock beneath you like a life line.
Jungwon straightens at that and abruptly sinks under the water. For a second, it startles you. Maybe you scared him off? A part of you wishes that that is the case—that way you have the last laugh. But deep down, you know a slap from you would hurt him more emotionally than physically. He wouldn’t fear your hand. And at this moment, you’re not sure which you prefer. After you begin to doubt that you scared him, and move on to your next theory—shark bite—Jungwon emerges from the pitch black sea.
Sometimes you forget that he’s not entirely human, but in this moment, he makes sure to remind you. Jungwon leaps from the water, propelling all of his body weight onto his arms and hands which suspends his body halfway out of the water and onto the jetty. You shriek, falling flat on your butt as he stares at you, only a few inches from your face.
You take a good look at him, and for a second, you’re not sure you’re talking to Jungwon. His eyes are wild, not the bright-eyed wideness that you know. Instead they’re slender, frantic, and threatening. His mouth hangs open, and you spot the edge of a fang indenting his lower lip, his tongue quickly smoothing over the skin. Despite the water being cool, you feel the fever radiating off of him and his cheeks flush a brilliant shade of pink. You take a deep breath in, studying his face. Before you can begin to check out his body—a habit you’re not all too proud of not being able to shake—he lowers himself back into the water.
He doesn’t submerge, and he doesn’t talk either. His lips stay wired shut, rose-red mouth relaxed but stern. His hands stay on the rock, bracketing your legs that makes you weary of moving too quickly. His fingers look as if they’re straining against something, but you’re not sure what. Do you want to find out?
After more than thirty seconds of just staring at each other, you realize he’s not going to speak.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you wonder, no longer feeling threatened by him. “Why are you getting all up in my face like I was the one who left? You’re the one who kissed and ditched, remember?”
It sounds even more pathetic saying it out loud.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Jungwon says, eyes transfixed on your face. For a moment, you see him melt. His eyes become wide again, but still hungry for something. His brow furrows, and he shakes his head, huffing a sigh through his nose like an animal clearing its senses of a particular scent.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Did you not hear what I just said?”
His eyes trail down your body, and you don’t miss the way his fingers twitch. You see his nails dig into the rock desperately, and you’re beginning to grow concerned. A look of discomfort crosses his face, and he shakes his head once more, water spraying against your calves. Sitting up and extending your legs back into the water, you notice how he learns forward subconsciously, seeking your touch. What the fuck is going on?
“Jungwon, are you okay?” you ask, reaching for him. You reach out to touch his hand, and before you can even register the heat of his palm, Jungwon keens forward, an airy sound escaping his mouth unwillingly. His forehead rests against your knees, and his breath is warm against your legs as you begin to second guess everything you thought you knew.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeats, chest heaving. In a panic, you begin to look for injuries. You can’t begin to fathom what would make him act like this. He’s usually calm, the eye of the storm in any and all cases. He plays with your hair when you’re rambling and rubs your back when you’re upset, and now you're the one doing it all for him.
You’re so confused, and as wracking breaths continue to knock against his ribs, fingers damn near creating claw marks in the rock, you’re desperate for answers. “Why wouldn’t I be here, Jungwon? It’s a beach.”
“The moon,” is all he says as he looks up at you. His eyes are nothing you’ve ever seen before. It’s like they melt the second he looks at you, eyebrows furrowed and irises so dark you believe that if you were to sink in them, you’d never find the bottom. You look up to the sky, moon brilliant and bright.
“I don’t get it,” you confess, laying a hand on his cheek. Should you be worried? He’s burning up. Do you offer to get him some medicine? An ambulance? A veterinarian?
Just as you begin to search for your own solutions, Jungwon—without much ability to control himself—proposes his own. With the palm on his cheek being his final straw, he presses his face against your leg once again, harsher than before. You feel his nose indent your thigh, and before you can begin to register the sudden change in proximity, Jungwon licks your leg and moans.
Your body responds before your mind, and if you were standing, you’re certain your knees would buckle. You clench around nothing, a rush of wetness pooling in your bikini bottoms. Without meaning to, you rock your hips gently against the rock. It doesn’t provide any comfort for the sudden ache, but Jungwon has you acting in irrational ways.
And once your mind is able to catch up with your body, the words that fly out of your mouth aren’t much more rational than your bodily response to his tongue. “Yooo, what are you doing?” you hiss, no real threat posed behind your voice.
“You smell so good,” he whines, kissing up your thigh. His arms hook under your thighs, dragging you closer and closer towards the edge. The water is up to your knees now as you cradle Jungwon’s head to your thigh. He nips and licks and kisses, and all you can do is watch. You feel his biceps flex under your legs, and his fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, desperate to keep you attached to his mouth.
You're not entirely sure of what is going on or what’s come over him, but you do know that you’re wetter than you’ve ever been in your whole life. His fangs graze your upper thigh, sharp and menacing. Before you can begin to complain about the sting, and, without a doubt, the blood that bubbles in its wake, Jungwon licks over the wound like his spit is some sort of salve. The sting is immediately gone, and replaced with a tingle that leaves you wanting more. He creeps higher and higher, breathing heavily. Your thighs are slick with spit, bruised by kisses. You tug at Jungwon’s hair, the wet strands wrapping around your fingers to keep you tethered to him. Jungwon moans again, shoving his nose into your crotch and inhaling deeply.
You burn furiously, embarrassed that he’s smelling you but also incredibly turned on by the fact that he seems to like it. A hand leaves your thigh and inches upward, lithe fingers tucking into the waistband as he attempts to yank your shorts down hungrily.
“The button,” you instruct breathlessly, your hands meeting as you both frantically go to undo the button of your shorts. Once you manage to pop it open for him, he rips them down your legs, soaking them with sea water accidentally before throwing them next to you haphazardly. His mouth is back on you instantly, and you urge him towards your core, fingers tracing his jawline. “Jungwon…” you whisper, yearning to kiss him but aching at the thought of his attention being redirected.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmurs around your skin, sucking another blossom into your thigh. You will be tender to the touch come tomorrow. “I can’t help it.”
“It’s okay,” you soothe, and he looks up at you, mouth spit-slicked and raw. “I want you too.”
You don’t have to tell him twice.
Jungwon dives back in, licking the flimsy material of your bikini bottoms. You can feel his tongue press against your clit through the fabric, and both of you moan. He sucks the material into his mouth, searching for your taste before he can indulge in you fully. He knows he should stop, he’s not in the right mind. But with the way he’s aching for you, a desire so fierce he can feel it burn him from the inside out, he’s not sure if he can will himself to stop. When he glances up and sees the look you’re giving him, eyes glowing and jaw dropped in amazed pleasure, he’s certain that he won’t stop.
Snatching the fabric between his teeth, Jungwon pulls your bottoms down your legs, tossing it alongside your shorts. He looks at you briefly, slick and glistening under the pale moonlight. Prior to this moment, Jungwon was certain he'd seen plenty of beautiful things. However, he is now positive that this view is the prettiest of them all.
He leans in voraciously, kissing the skin above your pretty cunt, the short hair tickling his lips and chin. Jungwon isn’t used to it, as you’re his first human girl and—if he has it his way—his last. But he likes it a lot more than he assumes is probably normal. He kisses you there one more time, feeling the muscles of your thighs twitch and tense.
“Please, Jungwon,” you whimper, hips leaning forward in search of his mouth. “I need you.”
Who is he to deny you?
Jungwon licks your folds tentatively, gauging how sensitive you are. A small sigh releases from your chest, a hum so gentle he does his best to replicate it through his tongue. You grow more restless the more he does this, searching for something more. It feels good. Really good. Using his hands to push your thighs further apart, Jungwon's tail thrashes wildly in the water at how pliant you are under his guidance.
“You taste so good,” he says, sucking your clit into his mouth greedily. You moan loudly, leaning backwards as your hips move forward. Jungwon looks up, watching as you prop yourself on one elbow, your other hand still stuck in his hair. You’re breathless, a warm ache slowly building within your core. “You like that?”
You nod fervently, biting your lip. As if it’s a challenge, Jungwon begins to suck and lick more harshly than he did before, pulling more and more sounds out of you. A hand of his creeps upward, shoving its way under the cup of your bikini top. He pinches a nipple, a high pitched whine releasing from your mouth. His tongue travels lower, prodding at your hole curiously. You clench around him and he groans, pressing his tongue into you as far as he can. You grind forward, clit bumping his nose and he inhales deeply. In his professional opinion, you taste better than any candy he’s ever had.
You twitch around his tongue, continuing to grind along his face. He squeezes your tit harshly, earning a gasp from you that makes him chuckle thickly, slick coating his mouth. You giggle too, delirious on the ecstasy Jungwon provides you. But your giggles quickly turn into endless moans as he sucks your clit back into his mouth, tongue swirling around the swollen bud.
Growing dizzier by the second, and this time, you’re certain it’s not because of the alcohol, you become more and more desperate for a release. Jungwon is moaning against you, convinced that your cunt is the best thing to have ever graced this Earth.
“You’re so pretty,” he whines, kitten-licking your clit before sucking it harshly once more. “I want to keep you all to myself.”
“I’m all yours,” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You can feel your slick and his spit pooling on the rock beneath you and spreading along your thighs. A heat brighter that the sun builds within you, yearning for more.
He groans deeply, his teeth grazing against your clit in a way that makes you flinch. “Don’t say that,” he pants, dragging his tongue along every inch of you that he can find. “Don’t want to hurt you,” he whimpers.
“Please,” you beg, finding his eyes in the moonlight. His eyes still replicate every bit of the beast that he is, his grip bruising. You clench around his tongue and he laps it up, feeding him in a way that you could never fully understand. The desire he feels is much deeper than what you’re capable of experiencing, and he knows that. But you’d be damned if you weren’t willing to try. “Please make me yours.”
Jungwon releases an inhumane sound, a cross between a purr and a moan, something that vibrates from his chest and releases from his mouth without control. He grips your thigh, eyeing you quickly. It’s faint, but you catch the slight downturn of his lips and the furrow in his brow, as if he’s saying sorry. However, before you can question him, he bares his fangs and bites down on your thigh, piercing the skin.
You yelp in pain, tugging at his hair but he doesn’t budge. He just groans against your skin, the pinch in your leg growing more and more aggressive the deeper his teeth sink into your flesh. But as quickly as the pain comes, a sudden overbearing warmth washes over you. You tilt your head back, grip on his hair weakening. Jungwon grabs your hand and rests it against his face, lapping at the blood that drips from you and sealing the wound. He looks at the new mark he’s created—a mark that confirms and reassures that you are his, and that he is yours.
The ecstasy you’re experiencing from his love bite must be potent, because you’re practically leaking all over yourself. He coos as your cunt clenches around nothing, a new wave of your scent, even more syrupy, fills his nose. He watches you, your body arching into the open air for something, anything that could provide you with relief. Awe is an understatement.
Reminding yourself that he is there, you snap your head up and open your eyes. You rub his cheek, watching him nestle into your palm. Maintaining eye contact, Jungwon lowers near where he expects you to want him, lips grazing your folds without any real pressure. You buck and squirm, but just before you find relief, he pulls away, suddenly every bit the tease and no longer the desperate, lust-crazed creature.
Well, it’s not like you’re above begging. “Fuck me,” you groan, your voice not sounding like your own to your ears. Jungwon melts all the same.
Sticking out his tongue, he licks from your taint to your clit, a relief that has you whining at a pitch you’re sure has never been reached. Practically making out with your cunt, Jungwon sucks your labia into his mouth, his own moans vibrating within you from the inside out. The bridge of his nose glides against your folds once again, rubbing against your clit in a way that has you seeing stars.You’re growing desperate, your hips unable to stay still as you rock and pull against him like a restless tide.
You’re hot, sweating despite the coolness of the water. Whatever that bite did to you—whether it poisoned or drugged you—you’re not sure. What you do know is that Jungwon is licking your clit just the way you need him to and you don’t think you’ve been so eager to cum in your whole life.
Your cunt pulses feverishly, yearning to suck anything he’ll give you further and further in. You want to watch him, and you try your best to, but when the pressure on your clit is just right, it’s hard to keep your eyes open and your head upright.
He can not only feel you getting closer, but he can taste you getting there as well. Your stomach contracts, the clench around his tongue getting stronger by the second. Your thighs shake, and the heat within you is so intense you feel like you could burst into a supernova. The sounds you are releasing are sounds that a pornstar could only dream of making, and Jungwon doesn’t even have it in him to wonder if this is how all human girls sound because he too enamoured with how his girl sounds. His girl. Shit, he might cum.
“I wanna cum,” you announced, vision blurred with tears.
He moans, loud and clear. “Please,” he begs, watching your back arch in the moonlight. “I want to feel it, pretty. Please.”
He continues to suck and kiss and lick in all the ways you’ve wished a man would without you having to ask. He categorizes every twitch, tunes into every moan, and memorizes every plea. If he’s serious about keeping you, you might have to take him up on his offer.
Once the heat in your body becomes too much, and your back arches against the uncomfortableness against the rock, the band within your lower body snaps. Your orgasm washes over you like the sudden tide, unrelenting and powerful. Jungwon moans with you, licking every surface of you that he can reach as you buck and squirm against his face. Growing sensitive, you lightly pull his head away from your cunt, his mouth and chin glistening with your release.
He looks at you, his eyes still hungry but in a way that reminds you of your normal Jungwon. Jungwon smiles softly, the soft pearls of his teeth beaming up at you as if he didn’t just give you the orgasm of a lifetime. You climb into the water, Jungwon grabbing your hips and steadying you the second he sees you waver.
He lets you loop your arms around his neck as he continues smiling, completely in awe of all that you are. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, eyes unable to decide if they want to focus on your lips or your eyes. He tucks a hair behind your ear, the one that never stays, and you’re ashamed to admit it really turns you on.
“So you’ve said,” you tease breathlessly, wiping some of your slick off his chin before you lean in to kiss him.
Jungwon grips your hips, one hand wandering downwards to your ass. You reach behind you, encouraging him to squeeze, a pretty little moan slipping past his lips and down your throat once he does. You can still feel the feverish warmth emanating from his body, even in the water. Whatever fog was plaguing him seems to have broken just a bit, his eyes and face resembling the man you know and love. However, you can feel his lust press against your stomach, hard and thick. It’s definitely bigger than anything human, but you’re determined to make it work.
You kiss down his jaw, his sighs and moans filling your ear as he cradles you against him. You grind forward, the head of his cock catching on your clit. You’re still sensitive, but you know it will pass. Jungwon groans loudly, pressing you against the jetty. His arm braces beside your head, bicep deliciously flexed. You’re not sure what comes over you, but you lean towards the muscle and bite it, licking over the indent of your teeth just as he did before. He watches you in awe, bucking against your heat once again.
You moan softly tracing his cupid's bow before you stick a finger in his mouth. You trace his teeth, mesmerized by their subtle sharpness. You would’ve never expected how threatening they truly were until they were pressed against you. He sucks on the pad of your finger, eyes slipping shut briefly as he soaks in the bliss. Jungwon examines your face as he grinds against you again, regretting that he couldn’t see you before as well as he can now. He’ll just have to make you cum again.
He’s endeared by the furrow of your brow, and the twitch of the corner of your lip. He grabs your wrist, pulling your finger from his mouth just so he can kiss you. He licks into your open mouth, doing his best to shield his fangs from your curious tongue. However, when you grind against him a little too hard, he bites down, nicking the side of your tongue.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, pulling away. You pull him right back, not bothered by the sting.
“Just kiss me,” you beg, palms cradling his cheeks. His saliva mixes with yours, thick and warm, and it’s as if he never hurt you. Not that he ever could.
You rock forward once more, the head of his cock slipping lower and pressing against your hole. He can feel you clench slightly, and he’s filled with panic. He’s definitely too big for you, and both of you know it. Obviously, you wouldn’t mind trying but he’s not going to be the reason you get seriously hurt just because he couldn’t control himself.
He pulls away, stilling your hips with a palm pressed against your womb. “We… we shouldn’t. It’ll hurt,” he says, unable to tear his gaze away from your pretty mouth. He’s really going to have to work on controlling himself if he wants to be around you longer.
“It’s okay. I want to try,” you whisper, trying to roll your hips against his.
He stops you once again, using all of his strength to contain his hunger. “No,” he huffs, eyes dropping to your chest and you can’t help but notice the way he twitches against your clit. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m really fucking turned on right now and I don’t know if I can control myself-”
“Where did you learn that word?” you gasp, an evil grin spreading across your face like butter.
He cocks his head to the side, every bit your sweet Jungwon. “What word?”
“Turned on.”
“I heard it in a movie,” he explains, completely caught off guard while your hand trails down and pinches at his nipple. His hand flies forward, capturing your hand against his chest. You just look at him, eyes sugar sweet and a smile even more sickening. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
His decision sounds definitive, and as much as you’re willing to try, you won’t push it. He nearly flops forward, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he huffs. Smoothing your hand down and up his back, you can feel his heart rate and temperature drop back down to a normal pace. He’s still rock hard, as he’s certain he will be for the rest of the night.
“We could try other things…?” you suggest, gaze imploring.
A confused look crosses his face, understanding replacing it as he notices your nails trace down his chest, lower and lower. You grab the base of him, thick and heavy in your palm. An airy sigh floats from his mouth, nosing along the column of your throat as if he’s suddenly grown shy.
It’s still too dark to be able to see him in all his glory, but your sense of touch provides you with enough information to know that he’s huge. He’s shaped just like the regular human male, but much larger and heavier. The idea makes you salivate, thirsting for the day he finally lets you indulge in your silly fantasies. A series of ridges line the underside of his cock, and he seems to whimper whenever you add extra pressure to the area.
“Just want you to feel good too,” you say, pumping slowly.
The water ripples above your movement, moonlight bouncing off of every wave and swell. Jungwon kisses along your neck once again, sucking bruises into the skin that you sure will be tender to the touch come tomorrow morning. Though, the funny thing is, you never cared.
“I’m already feeling good,” he moans, bucking into your hand. “You feeling good makes me feel good.”
“Aww,” you coo. “You’re so cute.”
You feel him heat against you, nuzzling closer if even possible. “Shut up,” he whimpers.
You laugh, placing a kiss along his hairline. Your pace increases, groans and whimpers growing in intensity. Teasing his slit, Jungwon grows harder by the second. A series of clicks and whistles, a similar tune and rhythm to the foreign words he spoke to you weeks ago, are spoken into your neck.
“Are you finally gonna tell me what that means?” you whisper, clenching around nothing when he licks the shell of your ear.
“Means you’re mine,” he pants, pulling away from his hiding spot in the crook of your neck. “Forever.”
Oh, you’re sooo going to make him cum harder than he ever has.
Luckily for you, it doesn’t take much effort. With a few more flicks of your wrist, Jungwon twitches and finishes across your stomach, the ocean waves washing it away before you can scoop it into your mouth and show him how disgusting you can truly be.
He kisses you deeply, tongue tasting the bitterness of the alcohol and sweetness of the juice you drank what feels like forever ago. You let him ride out his high, hand coming to a still once you’re certain you’ve milked him of all he has.
Once he’s certain he can look into your eyes without being possessed by some lust-crazed animal for the second time that night, he pulls away from you, mesmerized by the shine of your eyes. Stealing the breath from his lungs, you giggle in such a lovesick way even Cupid would puke. You brush his hair away from his forehead, and he smiles softly.
And under the starlit night, the waves rocking the two of you gently, he kisses you so gently that you hear the moon sing.
—
When you wake up the next morning, you’re not entirely sure you can move. Your thighs are sore, your joints ache, and, worst of all, your heart misses Jungwon. The ceiling keeps you entertained for about twenty minutes, before your need to pee overweighs your desire to stay in bed, rotting. You contemplate crawling around on the floor for the rest of the day, but somehow, the thought of that sounds even worse than walking.
After a scalding hot shower and a thorough examination of the hickeys and bruises left on your body, you feel clean and refreshed, despite still longing for Jungwon. If you could move any faster, you’d be down at the beach right now, looking for him. Hopefully, he misses you just as much too.
However, despite the hours you spent with Jungwon last night, even as he guided you back to shore and kissed you goodbye, he never mentioned why he left. And as you brush your teeth and style your hair, you can’t help but let your mind run wild. Was it because of his attraction to you? You’ve never seen him behave like that, even during the brief moments, before your interaction last night, where you were aware of his arousal. He was always calm, despite proudly displaying his affection towards you. But last night was different.
Lust nearly consumed him, and although you're certain he would never seriously hurt you, the ache in your muscles establishes a firm reminder for just how strong he actually is. You vividly remember how his fangs gleamed under the moonlight, and just how sharp they were to the touch. And although you can practically feel them scraping against you now, no evidence of their touch remains. The only residual mark on your body, besides the numerous hickeys and bruises, is the mark of his bite.
It’s not sore like you’d expect a bite to be, although you do feel tender whenever you trace its pattern. Every time you touch it, or so much as graze it, it’s like the memories of last night resurface ten times more explicitly than before. It sets a fire within you, a furnace that burns to a more subtle degree, but glows nonetheless. The more you ignore it, the brighter it glows.
But before you address it, you need answers. And you need them from him.
Just as you peel yourself off your couch—slowly, of course—to go change and march down to the beach, a soft knock is heard from your front door. It’s still midmorning, and aware that all of your friends are late risers, you’re not expecting any of them to drop by unannounced.
Shuffling to the door, ignoring the ongoing pain in your hips, you pull the door open. And there, bathed in sunlight, stands Jungwon in the same pair of pajamas that you last saw him wear, albeit, much sandier. He’s beaming at you, every bit a ray of light that heals all the aches in your body and replaces it with a different kind of ache. What was it you said about needing answers? Yeah. Those could wait.
“Hi,” he says softly, smiling like he didn’t have you seeing the creation of the universe last night.
“Get in here,” you mutter, yanking him by his shirt. You kick the door shut behind him, pressing him against the wood surface. His eyes widen but his grin stays, hands instinctively falling to your hips.
“Did you miss me?” he asks, eyes melting you into a syrupy mess.
“No.”
Lies.
As you fiddle with the neckline of his shirt, he observes as your gaze slowly glides down to his lips, sighing the minute he sticks his tongue out to wet them. “You sure?” he questions, leaning in closer. You can’t help but mimic his action. “Because I missed you.”
You groan, taking the tiniest step forward. Your nose bumps his, and he nuzzles against it affectionately as if you’re not soaking wet right now. If you weren’t so entranced by his mouth, you would try to take a peak downward at his dick. Is he hard? He better be.
“Fine. I missed you,” you admit.
Jungwon’s lips pucker subconsciously the minute he feels your lower lip graze against his. The grip he has on your waist tightens, his grip still strong but not nearly as demanding as last night. Whatever came over him last night surely isn’t taunting him anymore, but something else certainly is.
The Jungwon standing in front of you now is your Jungwon. Not the Jungwon who belongs to the sea or is controlled by the moon or influenced by the tides. This Jungwon belongs to you and only you.
“Can I show you how much I missed you?” you ask, slipping a hand around his neck and tickling the little strands of hair at the base of his skull.
He inhales shakily, nodding without much of a spoken word despite saying so much through his eyes. He practically falls forward onto your lips, catching you by surprise. You steady him with a hand on his chest, but allow yourself to stumble backward. Afterall, that’s where you were planning on heading anyway.
The kiss is much more gentle than the ones you’ve shared, despite the ferocity in which he initiated it. It’s not like you mind. You’ve never been one to complain about a man who yearns and lets it be known.
You guide him to your couch, the layout of your living room memorized like the back of your hand. Jungwon still manages to bump into your coffee table, hissing in pain against your lips but quickly laughs it off when he sees how flustered you’ve become. Besides, he has much more important things to do than worry about his potentially bruised calf.
With a hand on his chest, Jungwon allows you to push him back onto your sofa, sitting down on the cushions he has spent plenty of time with, especially with you by his side. But this time, instead of watching a movie or talking aimlessly into the night, he has you sprawled across his lap, thighs caging his hips.
He’s amused by your impatience, letting you tug his pajama shirt over his head, indifferent to the sand that might have been dusted off of it. Slack jawed, you trace his pecks, fingers tracing along his nipples. It’s amazing being able to see him like this in the early morning light, his body not shielded from your view by water or your own shyness. No, now you’re eager.
Jungwon arches into your hand when you pinch his nipple, a soft whine slipping from his pink lips. Grabbing the back of his neck, you guide him towards you, licking into his mouth. Your tongues tangle together, sucking and kissing any inch of flesh you both can find. He massages your ass, much gentler and more timid than he was last night. A little nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you to take things slow, but between last night and the questions you still have left unanswered, any caution about tempo is thrown out the window.
“I want to touch you,” you state, pushing away from him abruptly. Jungwon shakes his head, trying his best to clear the fog clouding his brain. You said it so matter of factly, like you were reporting the weather, that he’s unsure if he heard you correctly the first time. It isn’t until you start tugging his pajama pants down his thighs, the weight of his hips preventing you from tugging them very far, that he realizes there is no problem with his comprehension of the human language. “I want to touch you,” you repeat, pressing quick kisses to his jaw to bring his attention back to you.
Jungwon nods eagerly, lifting his hips and covering your hands with his own as he helps you pull his pants down his defined thighs. Typically, you’re not one to send heart eyes to someone’s dick, but you nearly swoon at the sight.
His tip is flushed red, hard and heavy from only a little kissing and shoving each other around. Jungwon breathes heavily, eyes darting between you and his cock in anticipation. He’s never used it before—the human form, that is—not unless you would count when he got curious one night after waking up to an uncomfortable tightness and experimenting in the bathroom. Other than that brief moment, he doesn’t quite know what to expect. He knows his human form is more sensitive, more receptive to your touch and not as durable as his true form. Just from you looking at him, gaze hungry, has him twitching and leaking against his stomach.
Finally gaining control of yourself, licking over your lips, you look at Jungwon. His chest rises and falls, small puffs of air drifting from his lips. The swell of his cheeks heat pink under your scrutiny, eyes unwavering when usually you like to play coy. But now you just look at him, eyes dripping honey and pulling him in so deep he thinks he might drown, of all people.
You lean forward and kiss him, simple and sweet, but as he chases after you, you wrap your hand around his cock, sliding upward and squeezing around the head. His mouth falls slack against your own, his breath hitting your lips as he struggles to regain his composure. He’s not too sure he wants to find it anyways.
You tug his length, fascinated by the extra inch he grows despite thinking he was already at full capacity. He’s heavy in your hand, spitting into your palm to aid the glide of his cock. Tossing his head back and closing his eyes, Jungwon nearly sinks into your couch, jaw still slack and hands now laying limp around your waist. It must feel good, because the way his hips twitch, trying their best to stay patient and exhibit some restraint, has you clenching around nothing.
“Feel good?” you ask, kissing his relaxed lips.
“Uh huh,” he moans, nodding slightly as he tries to kiss you back belatedly. He does better the second time around, hands now gripping your shirt with a fervor that has memories of last night surging to the forefront of your mind yet again.
Thank god for having sex with Jungwon again—hopefully the sexual flashbacks will be less intense, although you doubt it.
Tracing his slit, a breathy whine escapes his mouth only to be swallowed up by your tongue. He’s leaking all over your fingers, the pearlescent substance coating you in a sticky sheen. Finally able to crack his eyes open, Jungwon quickly falls in love with how concerned with his pleasure you’ve become, focus bouncing between his dick and his face.
His breath hitches as he catches sight of your fingers covered in his precum, and you don’t miss the way his abs clench underneath the palm you splay across his stomach. Bucking upwards, less restrained than the past few times, you indulge him by matching his pace.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he whimpers, licking your neck and feeling your pulse jump under his tongue. You rake your fingers through his hair, tugging him back to where you can see him. He relents, brow pinching slightly at the pain but melting the minute you begin to scratch lightly at his scalp. If your hand wasn’t working him to completion, he thinks he could fall asleep with your hand in his hair. However, a particularly harsh tug of his cock has him seeing stars, lids growing heavy once more.
You release him for a second, watching his manhood slap against his stomach with a satisfied hum. The slight wince from him doesn’t deter you, fascinated by his sensitivity and lack of filter as you bring your slick-covered hand up to your mouth, licking his pre off your fingers before grabbing him once more.
Jungwon groans, suddenly consumed by his own attraction towards you. What the hell has he been doing this whole time? Letting you touch all up on him, not bothering to do the same to you?! Ashamed doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“Off,” he mumbles, not even bothering to wait for your cooperation as he yanks your top over your head. The newly disheveled state of your hair would typically make Jungwon chuckle, but his preoccupied state only has him carelessly tossing your shirt aside and pulling you closer. “My pretty girl,” he murmurs, breath fanning across your nipples as he plants soft kisses along your breasts.
Sucking a nipple into his mouth, your pace on his cock slows as he rolls the nub between his teeth. Although you’re certain he doesn’t mean to distract you, the tingly sensation that the suction around your tit provides has you nearly forgetting about his length all together.
“Mmph- Wonie,” you moan quietly, nails scraping along his scalp. He hums around your breast, using his other hand to fondle and pinch at your previously unstimulated nipple. “Feels so good.”
“Yeah?” he huffs, a soft pop sounding from his lips. “Love seeing you like this. My pretty, pretty girl.”
Diving back into your tits, where he feels safe and sound—as well as incredibly aroused—you resume your mission of pleasing him by your hand. Jungwon’s jaw drops slowly, recognizing the warmth and pressure that begins to build in him once more. His teeth graze the underside of your boob, creating small indents as he loses sense of control and begins to suck your skin into his mouth, bruises and hickeys left in their wake.
He redirects his hand away from your tit, trailing it down over the plane of your stomach, pinching the skin in fascination. However, that only makes you squeeze his dick tighter, a shocked moan spilling from his lips as he attempts to regain his composure.
Jungwon has learned a lot of things about himself because of you. For example, he’s learned that he enjoys sweets more than savory foods, he enjoys busy days just as much as he likes lazy ones, and that he doesn’t like to be pleased if you are not also experiencing some sort of pleasure. And when his fingers trail just low enough to graze your pussy over your panties, dripping with your own arousal, he can acknowledge that his touch on your skin is plenty to satisfy you in some ways.
But he remembers how wet you got for him last night. He’s certain he can do better than he’s doing now.
He traces your hole over the fabric of your panties, the tip of his middle finger just about nearly breaching the tight ring of muscle before he pulls back, only to do it again. And again. And again.
You whine, tugging him by his dark locks so you can kiss him. In a clash of teeth and tongues, he decides to provide you some relief as he slips his fingers underneath the soaked fabric and sinks into your aching hole, the squelch of your slick damn near pornographic. You moan as he licks hungrily into your mouth, desperate to be as close to you as possible.
The heel of his palm presses deliciously against your clit, causing your hips to squirm. The grip you have on him makes Jungwon see stars, a sheet of white flashing beneath his eye lids every time he closes his eyes.
“Fuck,” he groans lowly after a particularly harsh tug of your hand. He feels you clench around him at the sound, adding another finger. “You make me feel so good.”
“God, Jungwon,” you whine, unsure if you want to focus all of your attention on his cock or his fingers inside of you.
You’re not certain if you’re so worked up because of the sounds he’s making or the memory of last night taunting you before he arrived at your front door or just because he’s that damn good at pleasing you. Either way, you can feel the thread within you growing thinner, the band tighter and you can tell he feels it too.
“So wet,” he whispers in awe, pulling away from your lips to glance down at your eager pussy. You’re practically sucking him in.
“Yeah? You like that?” a newfound confidence washing over you. You swivel your palm across the head of his cock, teasing his frenulum with your thumb. “Seems like you like this too,” you tease, observing the way he bucks up into your hand.
“Yeah. Oh- fuuuuck,” he moans, a groan of your name following soon after. He tries his best to curl his fingers inwards, searching for that spot that makes you see supernovas. Just as you clench tightly around his fingers, that furrow between your brows forming, he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.
You grow more frantic in your movements, rapidly pumping your hand against his spit and pre-covered length. Jungwon twitches against your palm, his vision growing blurry as he continues to assault that sensitive spot in you. He can feel you getting there much quicker than last night, but it’s not like he minds. He’s not going to be able to hold off much longer.
“Want you to cum,” you whimper, eyes tearing with desperation. “Wonie, please cum for me. I want it so bad.”
He groans, scissoring his fingers open inside of you that has your vision blurring both from tears and with pleasure. You can feel yourself teetering over that edge, the deepest part of you burning for release. With a roll of your hips and the friction of his palm against your clit, your walls spasm around his fingers, the clench providing much for Jungwon’s imagination. He ruts upwards, your hand still held tight around the head of his cock as he twitches against your fingers, cum leaking down his shaft and across your stomach.
As he opens eyes, mesmerized by the sudden relief that washes over your features, he pulls you into him, flopping sideways so the two of you can rest and catch your breath.
As the rise and fall of his chest slows, and your walls stop pulsing intermittently, you are able to remember what you wanted to discuss with Jungwon in the first place. Although you’re not necessarily upset by his ability to redirect your focus, you are always a woman with a goal that will get accomplished, distractions or not.
Sitting up slightly, you brace a hand on his chest, the faint beat of his heart knocking against your palm. He watches you, eyes warm and sleepy. A contented grin spreads across his face, warm as melting butter, but it quickly drops when he sees the frown deepening at the corner of your mouth.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, worried. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I’m still new to this. I’ve never been with-”
“No, no. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me, I’m fine,” you reassure, placating the crease between his brow.
He follows your guidance, refocusing his concern on the problem that seems to be occupying your brain. “What’s wrong then?”
“Why’d you leave?” you ask, not bothering to beat around the bush. “I thought you liked what we had going on. Why did you leave?”
Now it’s his turn to frown, a small pout confirming his confusion. “I didn’t leave. I was going to come back.”
Bro. Looks like men are stupid no matter the species.
“I woke up and you were gone, Jungwon. You didn’t tell me where you were going, you didn’t leave anything for me to assume that you would return,” you list, cheeks burning hot under his gaze. “I didn’t take you for that kind of guy, but it’s hard to not assume the worst when you literally dipped with no explanation. I was worried.”
He sits up fully, slipping a hand around your waist as you follow suit. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, eyes sincere. “I didn’t know it would scare you, it’s sort of hard to explain.”
“I don’t care, explain it.” you urge patience wearing thin although you don’t mean for it to. “And you were weird as fuck last night too.”
“You thought I was weird?” he asks, growing defensive. “You were literally wet.”
“Two things can be true at once,” you say, growing shy. Usually you’re the one who can stump him with your words, but the better he gets at your tongue, the better he gets at leaving you rendered speechless. “I did think you were hot, but it wasn’t… I don’t know… you’ve never been that way before. I was a little surprised.”
You both stare each other down, fairly aware of your back pedaling but willing to accept it for the sake of having this conversation. He adjusts your legs, throwing one over his lap, partially because he wants you closer and also because seeing your pussy still shiny from your release is making it hard for him to pay attention to the subject at hand. It only helps slightly, a full view of your cunt now hindered by your thigh.
“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” he explains, choosing his words slowly and carefully. “I missed the water so I went for a swim. I was going to just be gone for a few minutes, maybe find some shells for you ‘cause I know you like them. But then I realized the state of the moon, and what it does… I just thought it would be safer if I stayed away.”
You shake your head, not quite following. “I don’t get it,” you announce, a petulant lilt in your voice that makes him laugh.
“The moon sometimes messes with my head and makes me… you know…” he trails off, avoiding eye contact. The blush that blooms on the tip of his ears is cute. “But I’m okay now. Sometimes it has no effect, sometimes it does. I could feel it coming on though, and it can be difficult to control so I decided to stay away until it passed.”
You nod, digesting all this new information. You faintly recall a story you heard ages ago of how merfolk are closely guided by the moon, and although they may not be as influenced as Jungwon suggests, part of it still rings true. He’s avoiding your eyes, fascinated by the small red light on your cable box. It’s hard to believe that there will be a day where he’s not amazed by your television.
Desperate to regain his attention, you pinch his sides. When that fails, his blush glowing a deeper shade of crimson, you decide on something that will certainly get him worked up.
“Is that the only reason you wanted to touch me like that? Because of the moon?”
He whips his head around so fast you’re scared he broke his neck. Jungwon almost looks mad, scandaled that you would even dare to ask such a question.
“No!” he nearly shouts, grip tightening around your waist. You watch the way your flesh pillows under his fingers, a vein running down the front of his hand and down to his slender fingers. “I-I’ve always wanted to do that with you. The second I met you I wanted to, but-”
“The second you met me? Really?” you smile, drawing a faint pattern on his pec that has goosebumps raising along his skin.
“Yeah,” he nods, voice weakened by your touch. “I’ve always wanted you.”
“Hmm,” you hum, tossing your leg across his hip to straddle him once more. “How did you want me?”
“I-”
“Did you want to taste me the way you did last night? Or just stick your fingers in me?”
Jungwon’s blush creeps from his ears, across his face, and down his neck, a bright shade of rose painting his tanned skin. You giggle sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek that he accepts gratefully. You grind down on his hardening length, still sticky from his release.
A moan floats from Jungwon’s mouth, a welcomed sound. “I wanted to do all those things,” he agrees, rutting up against the warmth of your pretty pussy. “‘Want to do more, too.”
“More? You want more?”
“Mhm,” he whines, his bangs drooping into his eyes. You brush them back, eager to see his lids grow heavy with lust. “I really want to fuck you.”
Alright.
“Bedroom.”
He follows closely behind you, sloppily kissing your shoulder as you tug him towards your room. You’re royally fucked, your legs already shaking the minute you lay down on your bed, Jungwon climbing over you the second your back hits the mattress.
“You’re so pretty,” he says, kissing up your neck and jaw.
You giggle, tangling your fingers in his hair, softer than a morning breeze. You could hear him say that same compliment a hundred times more, and it would still leave you warm and fuzzy.
“You’re pretty, too,” you comment, kissing his nose.
He giggles against your lips, chaste kisses scattered across your mouth and face. The warm feeling of your words spreads in his chest and throughout his whole body, heating him from the inside out. Lazily dragging a finger down to your willing cunt, he gently circles your clit to prep you.
You’re aware that he’s smaller than what he presented you with last evening, but he’s still plenty big. His length rests in the crux of your thigh, long and thick. Your mouth falls open, soft moans slipping from your lips as he wastes no time licking into your mouth. Jungwon subtly begins to grind against your leg, intoxicated by your touch, no matter the medium.
You, however, are growing desperate.
“I need you to fuck me, Jungwon,” you plead, digging your nails into his shoulders. His eyes grow heavy, tracing every line and edge of your face. “Please, baby. Fuck me.”
He would give you the world if you asked.
Ever the most efficient, Jungwon leans back slightly, placing his cock between your folds and watching as your hole clenches at the proximity. He thrusts against you a few times, coating himself with your slick and savoring the moan you release when he nudges your clit. The mark of his teeth on your thigh stares back at him, still tender and fresh. He traces the crescents, heart thundering against his ribcage so loudly he’s almost positive you can hear it.
“Wait, fuck,” you gasp, stopping him with a hand on his hip. “We need a condom.”
“W-What? What’s that?”
You lean towards the small table next to your bed, pulling the drawer open before you reveal a small foil square. Tearing it open with your teeth—a sight that Jungwon could’ve never predicted would make his dick twitch—you reveal a delicate latex circle. He sits back on his haunches when you guide him away from the inside of your thighs, upset by the distance, but pleased when you wrap your hand around the base of him. You slip the latex over his head and down his shaft, quick and effortless like you’ve done this before. He doesn’t want to think about it.
“It’s so I don’t get pregnant,” you inform, laying back down against your no-longer pristine sheets.
Jungwon thinks he just came a little bit at the thought.
“Right,” he coughs, looming over you once again. “Wouldn’t want that to happen.”
“Are you blushing?” you tease, pinching his ruby-red cheek between your thumb and forefinger.
He swats you away, tucking his head against the curve of your neck in embarrassment. “Shut up,” he mumbles.
Jungwon sighs the second he ruts against you, soft and breathy. You indulge him for a moment, whining with every glide against your clit. However, after a couple minutes of humping against each other like animals, the heat boiling within you grows too unbearable to ignore.
“Alright,” you huff, reaching between you two to line him up against your hole. “‘Need to feel you inside me now.”
He nods, lifting his head from your neck so he can watch himself slowly sink into you. You’re tighter than he could’ve imagined, a loud moan escaping him without his control. You lift your hips, chasing the feeling of him filling you up. Maybe you’ve always been able to get this wet—you’re not sure—but you know you’ve never been this wet for anyone other than Jungwon.
“Fuck, Wonie,” you whine, clawing at his back. Once he reaches the hilt, he collapses forward, nosing along your jaw as he whimpers with every adjusting clench around his cock.
Thrusting forward, neither of you know what to focus on. Hands groping and fondling everything they can reach, you’re certain red lines litter Jungwon’s back and he’s sure finger-print shaped bruises will be printed across your thigh, accompanying his bite mark.
“You feel so good, pretty,” he moans, grinding against your clit before pulling out half-way and thrusting forward.
Jungwon prides himself in his strength, he’s always been quick and able to fight back without worry. But at this moment, you’ve rendered him weak. All of his energy is directed to pleasing you, resting between your folds, hot and heavy. The head of his cock grazes against the spongy spot inside you, and it has you pressing your tits against his chest and moaning into his ear. He thinks that might be his new favorite feeling, but then you have him experiencing a feeling so new and unique that he realizes that having a favorite is impossible when it comes to you.
You have to damn near yank Jungwon away from you, neck damp and warm from his panting against your skin. Jungwon moans against your tongue the second you kiss him, lips bit-ridden and plush.
“Mmph, baby,” you moan, unable to kiss back after a particularly harsh thrust against your walls. Stars decorate your vision, hyperfixating on the mole on his jaw before becoming enamored by the small smirk on his lips. “You’re so good to me.”
Completely blissed out, Jungwon isn’t even aware of his smile, but you love it all the same. “Yeah? Makin’ you feel good, pretty?” he groans, speeding up his pace just a fraction. “Need more? Want to feel you come again, is that okay?”
You nod frantically, unable to control yourself as your hips don’t know whether to run away or lean into the pleasure he’s providing you. “Need it,” you whine, overwhelmed by the pressure building within you.
“Mmph- anything you want, beautiful,” he whimpers, pressing a kiss to your lips before pushing your knee closer to chest and resting it along the curve of his waist.
He sets a brutal pace, sounds of your pussy squelching around him and your moans filling the room. You can feel yourself dripping down his shaft and onto your sheets, a mess you’ll most definitely need to clean up later but can’t be bothered to worry about at this moment. Not while he’s fucking you so well.
Your tits jump with every harsh thrust, his hips smacking against your own. He’s entranced by how mindless you’ve become, growing needier with every sigh and whine that escapes you. There has never been a prettier sight than you.
“Ohh,” you gasp, hips jolting when you feel his fingers begin to rub your clit. “Fuck, keep doing that, baby. I’m so close,” you urge, vision colored with lust.
“I got you,” he whispers against your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth before releasing it with a pop. “Just let go, pretty.”
He rubs your clit one more time, your eyes slipping shut before you cum for the second time in the past hour. Your head presses into the pillow beneath you, back arching as your hips rut against him as you chase the remainder of your release.
You grow impossibly tighter around him, the slick that spills from you aiding the glide of his cock inside you. Rendered breathless, all words leave your mind. You can only moan to let him know how good he’s making you feel. Jungwon continues to buck wildly against you, eager to taste his own pleasure.
“Never gonna leave you again,” he groans, kissing and sucking your lips into his mouth. “Never wanna be without you.”
Boneless and weak, you use the last of your strength to card your fingers through his hair one last time, meeting his eyes with a fond look. His dick throbs, aching and heavy, and your gaze is not helping stave off his impending release. He curses his gods and yours for trying to separate the two of you, eternally grateful that you defied the odds by coming together as his stomach and balls tighten.
Jungwon doesn’t want it to end. It all feels too fast. But the look you give him reassures that you will have many more opportunities to come. Opportunities for him to lazily rock against you in the mornings, moments to fuck you into oblivion, and moments to make proper love. He can't wait to hear more sounds from you and to whisper filthier words into your ear, and to feel you melt around him time and time again.
The syrupy sounds you release fill him up, and as his voice jumps the octave in a breathy moan, he releases into the condom. His dick twitches relentlessly against your walls, overstimulating you beyond the point where you could care. He rocks against you unceremoniously, jerky and without rhythm before slowing to a gentle end.
Jungwon presses his forehead to yours, allowing you to cradle his face in your palms as you press sweet kisses into his skin. As the two of you slow, stilling into a quiet calm, your breaths sync and your hands continue to explore in a hushed wonder.
For the first time in your life, you don’t mind basking in the silence of the morning, consenting to his gaze under the broad daylight, despite being certain you look like a sweaty, fucked-out mess. But Jungwon doesn’t care, you’re his girl all the same.
The two of you finally come to, giggly kisses keeping you occupied until you grow hungry, stumbling out of bed to clean yourselves. And as you sit on the floor of your living room, beside Jungwon, handing him a grilled cheese—too tired to fix anything else—you realize that your father has been right about many things, but he could not possibly be more wrong than he was about your boyfriend and his character. He is the sea and the sky and the Earth, all wrapped into one.
When Jungwon knocks his knee against your bare thigh, dressed only in his underwear with buttered crumbs stuck to his lips as he sends you a love-sick smile, you feel certain that you did the right thing by returning to the beach that day. With the moon etched into his eyes and the sun kissing your skin, your infatuation has transcended worlds.
summary. nerdy sim jaeyun is sweating buckets when the baddie he's been crushing on sits in his lap on a two-hour road trip.
pairing. nerdy!jake x baddie!female reader
genre(s). oneshot, smut, big porn with a small plot
warnings. MDNI, jake is a professional yearner, jake is very shy and repressed (and a bit insecure), masturbation, pervert!jake, unprotected sex (pls don’t), subby switch!jake, top or bottom he's always a sub, reader is a bit mean, jake cries a lot and begs a lot, slight sunsunki if you squint, handjob, blowjob, nose-riding, jake eats her out as well, reverse cowgirl, cowgirl, missionary, BRO WHY IS IT NEVER-ENDING, but like it's messy, EDGING EDGING EDGINGGGG, reader calls him jaeyun, reader is jealous and possessive, implied aftercare, enhypen ensemble, hmm please let me know if i missed anything! not beta read we die like injang
word count. 14,807 words
note. oh boy! this used to be a veeeery old, 8k-word draft, my take on nerdy jake that i decided to polish and give life to. it is also a gift for my bestie and fellow jake's wife: dr. @twocupsofsuga 🫶🏼 congratulations on passing medschool! you're so smart mhm here's my lap dance for you 😏
Women make Sim Jaeyun nervous.
Especially someone as bold and confident like you.
There's something about the soft lilt of your voice that makes him feel ashamed to even speak in your presence. There's something about your enticing eyes that makes him stutter and stumble with his own words, his grammar-police persona flying out the window. There's something about the sure sway of your hips that makes him want to avert his gaze and look more all the same time; like something sinful he shouldn't want but crave for anyway.
You're the kind of woman that makes Sim Jaeyun nervous.
Park Jongseong's cousin from the States that always comes to visit for summer, with that bold show of your body that'll usually often get frowned upon in his neighbourhood, that honey tint of your skin that's far from the local society's beauty standard. You're upfront and so unapologetically you, something he admires and makes him overly conscious if his hair looks nice or not.
It's another summer and you're here again. You're always a welcome addition to their annual trip to Jay's beach house, a road trip that's usually joined by the other five plus you and him. But this year, Nishimura Riki had a last minute decision to cancel his flight to Japan and opted to spend the summer with them instead of with his family.
Which leaves all of you with no space for one person inside Jay's SUV.
"I call dibs on the rear seats," Heeseung says before anyone gets the chance to and disappears into the car. Riki opens his mouth, about to follow the eldest of the group, when Jungwon shoots him a sharp look and blocks his way with his hand.
"No, Riki. You're not getting a seat."
Riki's face morphs into horror. "What?! Am I excluded from this trip?"
"You cancelled your flight this morning. You were never included in the trip."
Seeing the look of hurt on his face, Sunoo actually takes pity on Riki. Peering inside, the blonde mumbles with a pout when he sees a small ice box sitting beside Heeseung. "Surely we can squeeze him into the rear seat, right…?"
"All of his six-feet-one ass? I'd like to see you try, Sunoo hyung." Jungwon shakes his head. He leans on the passenger door, already the assigned co-pilot of the car, in charge of Spotify playlist and Waze and moral support to his Jay hyung. "Either one of you sits in another's lap, or we can Uber Riki to the beach house."
Hearing that, Riki immediately throws his hands. "It's a two-hour drive, hyung, I might just be paying for the Uber's car loan! It's gonna be so expensive!"
"If you can afford cancelling your flight with no refunds, then I think you can afford an Uber to Sokcho."
Riki whips his head to his Sunoo and Jake hyung, jutting out his lips in a pout that's borderline pitiful. Jake mirrors his expression, not really having the power to go against Jungwon's verdict—as if anybody could. Jake pities him, really, but it's Yang Jungwon. There's a whole menace behind those cute dimples and boba eyes.
Beside him, Sunghoon lets out a long sigh. "Then one of us will have to sit in another's lap."
It's an option that has everybody darting their eyes around, afraid that any eye contact with Jungwon will make them become the sacrificial thighs for the two-hour road trip. They're all men packed with mass and muscles, a result of a gym routine that unexpectedly becomes a problem today. Each of them at least weighs one hundred-forty pounds. Jake's sure that if he was chosen, he'd lose his legs by the time they exit Seoul.
Just in time, a loud thud is heard from the car boot. You and Jay walk into the scene, just having finished loading all of their stuff into the car. Jake adjusts his glasses instinctively, unknowingly fixing his appearence when his eyes land on you.
You've abandoned your cardigan, now only wearing a yellow camisole top that only reaches your belly button and a pair of jeans shorts that ends at the bottom swell of your ass. Your outfit choice hides nothing about your figure—your perfect body that admittedly has always been on his mind.
Jake gulps and lets his eyes trail down to your legs. You're seriously one of the most beautiful and hottest girls he's ever seen, and unfortunately, he has a severe problem of having a crush on baddies who are completely out of his nerdy league. You're definitely one of them.
When he looks up, Jake almost faints when your gaze catches his eyes with an unreadable expression. He quickly averts his eyes, adjusting the thick black rims of his glasses that didn't need adjusting.
Did you notice him staring?
"Car seat problem?" Jay asks when he senses the tension among the boys, already foreseeing this issue the moment Riki told him that he was joining their road trip over the phone this morning. They hesitantly nod.
"So what's the solution?"
"Riki takes an Uber to Sokcho—"
"Which will cost him his tuition fees," Jay comments, ever the hyperbole-user.
"—Or someone has to sit in another's lap."
Judging from the expression on Jay's face, he, too, doesn't think it's a comfortable position to be sitting in on a two-hour road trip.
But apparently, someone thinks otherwise.
"Oh, then let's do that!" You pipe in, flashing them with your charming smile. "I don't mind doing it!"
There's an elephant silence that follows your statement. Upon seeing their gaped expression, your smile slowly dies down, unsure if you had said the right thing.
"…Or not."
"Or yes!" Riki interrupts, relief flooding his senses. His eyes lit up as he looks around at each one of his friends. "Guys, she's offered to sit in anyone's lap. We can do that, right?"
Jungwon narrows his eyes. "It's a two-hour drive."
Riki blinks nervously. "But noona wants it."
"Then let Y/N noona sit in your lap."
Now, there's a rosy blush blooming across Riki's cheeks. Jake frowns. Lucky bastard. "I-I mean—"
"Not him," you cut in, a small smile playing on your lips. Jake can feel the exact moment everyone holds their breath, as if the air pauses on its own accord and waits for the rest of your sentence. Either they're anticipating or dreading to be your exclusive seat in the car—he's not sure. He's certain that he's the former, but he's also certain you'd pick someone more your type—Sunghoon or Riki, who are loyal gym buddies that possess strong thighs for you to sit on—or even Heeseung who's abandoned his nap and is eavesdropping the conversation now.
He doesn't know why, but surely someone hot like you would pick someone just as hot, right? And hot in Sim Jaeyun's definition is someone who matches your confidence (not him), someone who has a good body and is not shy to show them (Jake thinks his body is nice, but he's also always wearing long-sleeves), or just anyone but him.
Jay pinches the bridge of his nose. "Then who?"
When your eyes meet Jake's, the brown-haired boy almost loses his breath.
A smile curves up your lips. Jake thinks he's hallucinating because there's no way you are smirking at him.
"With Jaeyun."
There's a ripple of gasps, disbelief and shock mixing with a hint of betrayal (no doubt from Riki). Jay's brow disappears behind his hair.
"Seriously, Y/N? You don't have to—Riki's rich enough to pay for the Uber."
Riki's protest is muffled when Jungwon pulls him into a chokehold and slaps a hand over his mouth. Jake wants to pity him, really, but this time he thinks he's the one who needs help because what do you mean? There's no way—
"I'm serious. Jaeyun-ah."
—Oh my fucking God. Jaeyun. Jaeyun. Who's Jaeyun? Who the fuck is Jaeyun?
Jake has a trouble hearing you over the loud roar of his blood, heart threatening to jump out of his throat. But he manages a small, airy, 'Hm?' when all eyes are on him.
You tilt your head slightly, eyes never letting go of his, holding him hostage in your gaze alone. This, paired with the way you call his government name—a name you prefer over Jake because 'it's cuter' (according to you, not him) when he first introduced himself to you four years ago, and Jake had let you because he could never say no to you—are the most perfect, never-before-seen formula to unravel the physics genius Sim Jaeyun.
Yeah. Jake is a goner. And will soon have a boner if no one stops you from picking him as today's sacrificial thighs.
"Can I sit with you, Jaeyunnie?"
Someone please say no. Someone please stop you. Someone please tell this Jaeyun to say no because—because why him? Is this some kind of a cliché ploy that popular girls do to play with men's feelings, especially a physics nerd like him? Because if it is, Jake hates to admit that he'd be a willing participant (even if it'd break his heart a little).
"Yes, sure," he squeaks, finally recognising that Jaeyun is his name. He's still trying to process that you chose him—not Sunghoon with his ridiculous broad shoulders, or Riki with his ridiculous long legs, or Heeseung with his ridiculous charm—but him, who's sweating buckets and dampening his armpits underneath his long-sleeved T-shirt. His glasses almost glide down his nose from how sticky it is.
"It's settled, then!" Sunoo claps once, already red and irritated from having to stand under the unforgiving sun for longer than necessary. "Jake hyung and Y/N will sit together. So I will be sitting with—"
"Me!"
"Me!"
Sunoo ignores Sunghoon and Riki, and walks straight to the rear seats. "With Heeseung hyung!"
Soon, there's shuffling and then everyone's already inside the car. Riki sits in the middle with a pout, a penalty for causing the minor disruption and losing rock-paper-scissors to Sunghoon and Jake. Sunghoon is happily humming to a song from the 80s, occassionally turning around to tease Sunoo who's been trying to join Heeseung in his mandatory road-trip nap. Jay and Jungwon have settled into their designated seats as the drivers of the day, already talking about the route they're taking and traffic condition. While Jake—well, he's preparing himself for the inevitable.
You're still standing by the door, overseeing the situation at hand, and Jake tries to ignore the way his cheeks burn under your weighted gaze.
"Can I sit now?" You softly ask. Jake hesitates a moment before nodding his head frantically.
"Y-Yes."
You, on the other hand, do not hesitate at all. Jake instinctively spreads his legs when you climb into the car, already aiming his lap as your throne for the next 120-minute of the ride. His senses heighten, overly aware of his friends' eyes watching his every move, and the soft scent of peach from your body wash that invades his nose when your weight finally settles on him.
In a split second, Jake goes from never daring to touch you to having you resting your ass comfortably on his clothed dick, thanks to a certain Japanese who's now queueing songs like he didn't just commit a fatal crime against his Aussie hyung.
His slightly longer thighs bracket your exposed ones in a hesitant cage, every point of your skin meeting his seems to burn through the fabric of his jeans. Your hair and neck are one breath away from his nose now, where he's inhaling lungfuls of peaches and creams and your vanilla-ish perfume, and Jake chooses to blink at the ceiling to avoid looking over your shoulders and possibly flashing himself with the swell of your chest under that thin camisole top. The already-cramped space feels even smaller, and Jake doesn't think he can breathe properly.
While at it, Jake hopes his prayers could break through the car roof and reach the heavens.
God, please have mercy on me and let my other head not have a brain of its own.
God answers him shortly in the form of you shifting around.
"You comfortable?" You ask innocently, adjusting yourself on his lap. Jake nearly inhales his tongue, feeling blood rush to his ears and south. A strangled noise escapes his throat instead.
"Mhm."
From the front, he can hear a snort coming from none other than Jay. "You sound constipated, dude."
'Try having a pretty girl sit on your dick then!', is what Jake wishes he could say to his friend, but he knows that this is more of a him-problem. Someone like Jay won't get flustered in this kind of situation—at least not as bad as he is, who doesn't even fucking know where to put his hands, hovering in the air like he's about to conduct a choral speaking.
So, Jake resorts to conveying his rage through the rearview mirror instead, hoping that his glare and frown are enough to make Jay feel bad. (They don't, Jay finds him cute instead).
Jungwon comes to save the day as he turns to the backseat. "Do you have everything with you?" All of them except Jake hum. He thinks he doesn't have his sanity anymore, but of course the younger boy pretends to ignore him.
Jungwon eyes each one of his friends, his gaze stopping longer at the sight of Jake gripping the leather seat, the white of his knuckles almost matching his face, and you smiling innocently at him. Jungwon badly wants to laugh.
Jake widens his eyes at Jungwon. Help me!
The younger boy gives him an indecipherable look before turning to face the front. "Alright. We're not turning back for you even if you forgot your PlayStation."
Jake wants to say that they might want to leave a certain Sim Jaeyun to save him from this misery, but all words are gone from his mind when the car starts forward with a sharp jolt. Your back meets his chest in a soft thud, punching air out of his lungs. Your ass pushes deeper into his lap and Jake nearly pierces the leather with his nails from how desperately hard he's gripping it.
"Oops, sorry!" Jay chimes from the driver seat, sounding far from sorry.
You straighten up and turn around, looking more sorry than your cousin. "You okay? Sorry about that, Jaeyunnie."
Oh, fuck. Please don't use that voice on him when he's one bump away from kissing your lips. You're so close it feels like you're breathing in the same air he exhales, so close he can see the faint, tiny freckles dusting your cheeks and the bridge of your nose.
"Yeah," he manages, voice hoarse like he's just swallowed a bucket of sand. "I'm okay."
There's a halt in your movement, like you're actually seeing him through the calm façade he's exuding. His breath catches when your eyes drop to his lips briefly, the bitten-red skin tingles under your heated gaze.
Then, after a moment, you smile at him so easily; as if the tension never existed, as if the pull was only one-sided.
"If you say so."
When he's met with your shiny hair again, Jake lets out a breath he unknowlingly held. Your voice fills up the space softly as you begin talking to Jungwon and Jay, all cheery and unrestrained while he's exerting mental training equivalent to physical labour of a building constructor to stop his dick from hardening every time you move.
He hears a snicker from his left and immediately meets with Riki's mischievous eyes. The younger boy mouths something that has Jake closing his eyes and leaning on the headrest in defeat.
'Don't get horny now, Jake hyung.'
Jake is worried that if it's not now, it'll be the next time Jay hits a bump.
Instead of a road bump, Jake's personal enemy turns out to be you.
Ten minutes in, everything is still going fine. Jake is still breathing, alive, and hasn't popped a boner that could traumatise you and get him banned from the car permanently. You also seem okay, still engrossed in a conversation with the cat-duo driving the car, talking about college and your winter trip to Japan.
For a moment, Jake selfishly thinks if his lap was that…sitable, seeing as you haven't shown any signs of discomfort yet. Or, to be fair, it has been barely ten minutes since they're en route, and though those minutes are enough to pull the others into a car nap, ten minutes feel like one round of orbit around the Sun when he has you sitting on his lap.
Jake can feel himself melt into the seat. Maybe this isn't so bad at all. Maybe he can make it to Sokcho without having to cut his dick off before anyone could see his hard-on. He just has to sit really quietly and will his mind to avoid teetering dangerous territory.
Yeap. Everything is fine.
Not until you decide to put your hands on his thighs.
Jake almost jolts at the contact, flexing his thighs instinctively when you place your perfectly manicured fingers on the surface of his jeans. It's a brief touch, one that can pass as accidental, but the lingering heat it leaves behind feels almost physical.
His eyes dart to the back of your head, trembling with nerves nearly frayed at the edges, gauging your reaction, and bites the bottom of his lips when you resume your conversation as if nothing happened. Or nothing really happened to you.
It's just a touch, for God's sake. Calm your dick down.
If a simple touch from you could unravel him this fast, what about other things? What if you hug him, or-or if you hold his hand, or—wait, is he wishing for other things to happen between you and him? (He does, but he knows that it won't happen.)
Jake gulps harshly and decides to enjoy the scenery instead. He stares hard out the window, so intense like he's memorising every species of the trees they pass by, mind lost in a whirlwind of horny thoughts clashing with rationality, when you do something again.
This time, it isn't an innocent touch on his thigh. It's an innocent move to hear Jungwon better. You lean forward, pushing your ass deeper into his lap simultaneously, offering your ear to Jungwon who seems to be sharing a secret about Jay. Jake's breath hitches and his hands almost come up to hold your waist, the friction sending heat through his body.
Fuck. He peels his eyes away from the window forcefully and follows down the dip of your spine to where your ass meets his crotch. Your position highlights the narrow of your waist and the width of your hips, all sinful curves that have him swallowing harder, something inside his pants threatening to stir alive. Jake closes his eyes.
Think of Jesus, Jake. Think of Layla. He absentmindedly fixes his glasses. Think of quantum physics. Think of—
"—Oh!" You squirm excitedly, round butt wiggling slightly against his cock. "Yes, I met her before!"
Jake hisses before he can stop himself, the sound serving like a knife cutting the conversation. You and Jungwon instantly turn to look at him, the latter wearing a mischievous expression when he sees the heat painting Jake's face red.
"Are you okay?" You prompt in concern, noticing how stiffly Jake is nodding at you.
"Y-Yeah. Good. I'm horgoony."
Freudian slip is gonna be the death of him.
Jay and Jungwon burst out laughing, catching the slip as fast as any dirty-minded man would. Jake's face turns a darker shade of red, avoiding your eyes whose brows now pinching in confusion.
"Horgoony?" You echo, pretty confident you have never heard of that strange word spoken before. Jake immediately shakes his head, panic creeping into his chest when Jungwon shows a sign of opening his mouth.
No! Do not let that orange cat speak! Jungwon only cares about his downfall!
"I feel horribly good! Yeah," Jake stammers, to hell with any logical reasoning. "Like, I feel good because we're on a road trip. But also kind of horrible because I get motion sickness sometimes."
Now that the string of the sentences has flowed out of his mouth, Jake thinks he is kind of making sense. Satisfaction blooms in his chest when you nod in understanding, because two conflicting emotions—feeling good and horrible—can exist simultaneously, right? Like the way he wants to push you from his lap and hide in the deepest part of the Sokcho forest forever but also craves to just grab your hips and pull you close and have his way with you—wait stop.
What a horrible, horny, nothing-good man you are, Sim Jaeyun.
"That does sound horrible." Jake snaps out of his thoughts when he registers your voice, nodding fervently to amplify the faux pity that he's just orchestrated.
You give him a sorry look, the one where it pulls the corners of your mouth down into a frown. Jake sighs in relief. You bought it. Thank God for his smart brain.
"Yeah. I think I'm just gonna take a nap," he adds, voice turning softer when you still look at him in concern. He feels a strange need to overexplain.
"Motion sickness happens because your eyes see one thing while your inner ears and muscles feel another. If I take a nap, it'll eliminate the visual stimuli that causes the conflict…" Jake trails off, catching himself before he could go on and on and on on why humans experience motion sickness, and possibly bore you to death. He shakes his head imperceptibly. "So—yeah. I should take a nap."
To his surprise, you only give him a warm smile. "I never knew that, Jaeyun. Then what's the correlation between motion sickness and playing your phone in a moving vehicle?"
Jake blinks behind his glasses, genuinely taken aback that you're actually listening instead of zoning out halfway through his rambling.
"Oh. Um." He clears his throat. "It's kind of the same concept. Your eyes are focused on something stationary—your phone—but your body still feels the movement of the car."
You hum softly, leaning back against him slightly, prompting him to continue. Jake immediately forgets how lungs work.
"S-So your brain gets confused because the signals don't match," he continues weakly. "Your eyes tell your brain you're sitting still, but your inner ears are like, 'No, we're moving.' It's like mixed signals, and our body doesn't like mixed signals."
His ears are warming up from how true the words are to the situation he's having with you.
"And right now you're seeing my stationary body while the car's moving," you continue with a subtle tilt of your mouth, "so you're nauseous and all dizzy now, right?"
Jake almost chokes to death. Did you know about his little problem? He blinks at you rapidly, hand itching to touch his glasses in a fit of nerves.
Oh my God. He's going to die. He's going to die and Jungwon will write 'Sim Jaeyun was a smart friend, died a horny man with a dick that never went down, a standing ovation to his contribution to Seoul National University' as his headstone epitaph. You know about it so Jake is going to die!
He stumbles with his own words. "I-I mean—It's actually—"
You give him a cheeky smile. "I'm just joking with you, Jaeyun. You're probably sick because you're having me on your lap like this."
You start digging into your front pocket, frowning when it's empty. Jake holds his breath when your hands move to your back pocket, looking for whatever it is that gets you so determined and his dick so excited whenever your finger brushes against his crotch. Jake is almost blue from not breathing.
He thinks this time he's really going to die.
"Found it!"
You offer your palm to him, where two mint candies sit idly on the soft surface. Jake's chest slowly feels lighter as air rushes in, no longer collapsing under the pressure of your searching hand accidentally brushing against him moments ago. He clears his throat.
You beam at him. "These will soothe your sickness, Jaeyunnie. Please take them."
Jake studies your face.
Do you know what you're doing to him? Was everything done on purpose, or are you really oblivious to everything?
He swallows and forces a nod, taking the candies from your palm, feeling a spark of electricity in his system when his fingers brush your skin.
"Thank you, Y/N."
You turn your back on him, resuming your conversation with Jungwon and Jay. All sweet and cotton candy, unaware of the turmoil he's going through. Jake stares at the candies in his hand, a mocking sign to his misery, and heaves out a quiet sigh. He glances at his wristwatch.
It feels like two world wars had happened but it's only been twenty minutes into the drive. An hour and forty minutes of horny torture remains for Sim Jaeyun to endure, and he's not sure if he's going to survive.
He slowly closes his eyes. Maybe sleep can help with horniness, too.
It does, but only for a moment, because Jake could swear he just blinked when you tap his shoulder a few times.
Jake blinks, half-groggy and half-alert. Did he have a wet dream of you and get hard in his unconsciousness? Is that why you woke him up?
But he's met with your apologetic face instead. "I'm sorry for waking you up," you whisper, trying not to wake other boys who are fast asleep. "But my back's sore. Can I lean on you for a moment?"
In a flash, all incoherent thoughts fly out the window. Guilt starts lodging in his chest as he realises—glancing at his watch—that you've been sitting straight for one hour. Before he knows it, Jake is already nodding at you, adjusting his seat to accommodate the new position.
"Y-Yes, you can."
God, he's such a loser. The word 'no' seems to disappear from his dictionary whenever you're around.
You reward him with an appreciative smile and waste no time to turn around and lean back softly on him. The moment your back touches his chest, Jake can feel his system kick start, a chemical reaction that he can never understand no matter how hard he studies Biology.
You physically relax into his chest. "This is so much better," you sigh, a dreamy smile on your face, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Then you tilt your head upwards to glance at him. "Is this okay for you?"
Jake hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating through the fabric of his shirt. The brown-haired boy nods wordlessly. "More than okay."
For a moment, you just stare at him, brilliant eyes holding his in a soft gaze. It's a silent minute full of everything unspoken, rendering him speechless and even more restless because no matter how smart he is, he could never decipher the meaning behind this look you're giving him. There's something you hide that he feels like he should know, like an open secret waiting for the right time for him to catch.
This time, Jake is even sure that you can hear his heartbeat.
Then, as if that moment never happened, you close your eyes and get comfortable.
"We should sleep, Jaeyun. Don't want you to get carsick again."
You nuzzle closer and Jake holds his breath, feeling the silky strands of your hair brushing against his jaw. His hands hover, not knowing where to land, though the pinch of your waist is where he wants to hold the most. Eventually, Jake settles on his thighs, watching the difference between his veiny hands and the smooth span of your thighs.
Is he still sleeping? Is he dreaming or are you really sleeping on his chest?
It seems that sitting in his lap really tired you out, because you're fast asleep in less than five minutes. The guilt in his chest amplifies at the sight of your closed eyes, breathing evening out as sleep overtakes your being. Jake bites his lips.
He's so shameless, napping to avoid getting turned on instead of caring for your being. He’s so horrible, worrying more about his hard-on than the fact that you’ve been uncomfortable for an hour. Jake wants to cry so bad.
Jake spends the rest of the ride watching you sleep. He fixes your hair when it falls over your face, tucking it behind your ear carefully, and then smiles to himself when he sees your pout. He blocks the sunlight with his hand when it's glaring on your skin through the window, not minding letting his hand redden from the harsh light. He instinctively holds your waist at a sharp turn, firm and secure, though he lets go just as fast as if it burns, afraid that it's not a touch you'd receive had you been conscious.
Other than the carnal desire he has suppressed for you, this road trip also makes him realise the depth of the feelings he actually harbours for you. He's so doomed. He's so doomed because in what universe would a hot, sweet, popular California girl like yourself, return back the feelings of a bland, studious, quiet Korean-Aussie boy like him?
In fictions. In another lifetime. But not in Sim Jaeyun's current universe right now.
However, the Sim Jaeyun in this universe also will never know peace.
Because just as he's getting comfortable with the you-watching routine that he just recently discovered, the road has another plan for him when Jay finally, and actually, hits a bump this time.
The first bump is a mild surprise. Jake gathers it's a small bump, one that Jay overlooks while getting excited over Bon Jovi playing on the rodeo. But the aftermath brings you settling deeper into him, pressing on him in a way that has his breath hitching. Jake holds your waist on instinct.
"Oh my God, I didn't see that," Jay mutters from the front.
Jake tries to steady his breath. That's…a shock. One that shatters the soft atmosphere he created while watching you, now replaced with the same tension he's been fighting the last hour.
Jake lets go of your waist when he assumes that it's just a one-time thing. But then the bump happens again, and instead of a solid, big one—it's shaky, like they're sliding through endless, tiny jagged rocks.
"Damn bro, this road needs fixing," Jay makes another commentary. He glances at the rearview mirror. "You good, Jake?"
Jake doesn't know what to answer. "I think I am," he mumbles, voice clipped.
Is it good that you're practically bouncing in his lap, adding more pressure with almost no interval for him to recover mentally? He thinks not. But Jay doesn't have to know that.
"We're almost there," Jungwon chimes in, navigating the map. There's a shakiness in his voice that comes from the vibration caused by the bumps. "Fifteen minutes at most. We found a shorter route just now and traffic was smooth."
Fifteen minutes.
Jake thinks he might actually die in fifteen minutes.
Another bump sends your body rocking against him softly, your sleeping face scrunching for a brief second before relaxing. His grip tightens.
Fuck.
If Jay doesn't stop the car and fix this damn road himself then he's definitely going to pop a boner soon.
Jake squeezes his eyes shut when another bump rattles through the car, and then again, and again, and again until Jake can barely separate one sensation from another anymore. Until he doesn't know where he starts and where you end anymore. You shift unconsciously, settling heavier against his chest before Jay hits another bump.
This time, Jake makes a mistake of looking down at you.
He didn't notice it before, too lost in his sappy, romantic feelings for you. But right now, it's actually so damn obvious that the angle from where he sits taller than you and you lean against him, he can easily see your cleavage past the neckline of your camisole.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The road doesn't stop shaking beneath the tires, and so does his pulse as he watches your breasts bounce with every bump that comes their way. Jake averts his eyes, so stiff and so strained, but can't help letting his gaze drift back to watch the soft mounds shake.
This is bad. This is very, very bad, and Jake is nothing but a bad fucking pervert.
A particularly rough patch of road sends the entire car jolting. Your body bounces against him harder this time, more pressure and more friction that Jake almost whimpers. He tips his head back, gulping harshly as the line of his long neck glistens with a sheen of sweat.
Inside his jeans, he can feel his cock kick.
Oh, fuck—he's definitely hard now.
Oh my fucking God.
"This is the last one, promise!"
Jake doesn't even register Jay's words, or the way your head hits his jaw from impact, because his internal system is flooded with horny-filled panic. He can feel it: his dick twitching and getting semi-hard from the continuous stimulation from your bouncing. He doesn't even realise that he's now clawing at his own thighs, seeking strength that could neutralise his blooming lust, or that you are finally awake.
"Are we almost there?" You ask groggily, blissfully unaware of the raging boner forming under your ass. You sit up when the coastal view greets your blurry vision, mouth gaping in awe.
"Oh, wow!" You gasp, always excited to visit Sokcho no matter how many times you've been there. "It's beautiful as always!"
The road is smooth now, but Jake's final torture arrives in the form of you bouncing, excitedly and consciously, in his lap. You wiggle in enthusiasm, urging Jungwon to pass your phone that's been charging at the front to take some pictures and send it to the family groupchat.
"Jungwon, Jaeyun, look at those seagulls!"
Jake is seeing no seagulls. He's only seeing white hot, painful pleasure as you move in his lap, his brain dissolving into useless static. His fingers twitch, itching to grab your waist and force you to stay still, but you're so excited that he almost didn't have the heart to do it.
"Did you see that?" You lean to the window, and then shift happily when you spot kites in the sky. "We should do that too! Hey, Jay, do you think you can—"
Jake finally has had enough.
The restraint that he's been holding onto finally breaks like a taut wire getting cut. His hands snap to your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, hips almost bucking up from the delicious friction alone. His lips drop to the shell of your ears, hot, ragged breath brushing the sensitive skin as his voice lowers an octave.
"Y/N," Jake licks his dry lips, the tip of his tongue peeking through. He watches with dark eyes as the hair on your neck stands straight under his unforgiving proximity.
"Stop fucking moving."
And that's the moment you feel it.
A bulge, hard and rigid and big, poking your ass from where you rest in his lap.
Oh my fucking God.
Sim Jaeyun is hard.
You freeze, breath hitching.
Neither of you dare to move. Not even your excitement of being back to your uncle's beach house, or Jay's questioning look from where you cut your sentence, can bring you to move. No.
You couldn't, not when Jake's hard dick is nudging at you right now, so tangible and unmistakably his.
The brown-haired boy is still panting in your ear, shooting tingles through your system. His grip on your waist is almost bruising, like he's trying very, very hard to hold back from overstepping lines that shouldn't be overstepped.
You hadn't meant for this to happen. Sure, Jake is fun to tease. That boy is all broken words and nervous glances whenever you're in his proximity, and it can't be helped when he blushes prettily too.
You just can't stop yourself from seeking his attention in your own way, because aside from being a pretty boy, Jake is also such a sweetheart and so, so smart. And in an age where intellligence is a scarcity, you absolutely adore smart guys.
Especially the one who isn't condescending and is actually eager to help people like him.
So, really—you hadn't meant for this to happen. Offering to become the one without a seat is a decision you made when you consider yourself to be lighter than most of the guys, but offering to sit in Jake's lap is definitely a decision born from personal bias. You kind of knew what it would cause—seeing how stiff and awkward Jake had been—but you let it go halfway through when the soreness in your back outweighs your desire to tease.
Which has now brought you to this situation.
The car's still moving like nothing happened, and the boys are slowly stirring to life one by one. Everything is normal, except for the nails digging into your waist and the deep timbre in your ear.
You swallow harshly, not daring to move. Jake is so close, so close that you can feel every movement of his chest. You sit still in his hold, trying not to wince from how hard he's gripping your hips, and how hot you find the situation is.
His dick, despite no movement is being made, only hardens further. Jake gasps almost imperceptibly, almost matching the way your breath leaves your mouth when you notice, again, just how big he is.
Fuck. Fuck, that's so hot. Sim Jaeyun is so hot and you can feel yourself slowly getting turned on.
Without any warning, as if driven by an invisible force that urges to look at him, you finally turn around.
And Jake looks absolutely wrecked.
Beads of sweat dot on his forehead, the furrow of his eyebrows showing restraint and constraint. His lips are red from how hard he's biting them, and his previously clean, smooth glasses are now fogged up and hazy. His eyes, glazed over with tamed lust, lock into yours, half-lidded and dark.
A breath catches in your throat.
This is not the Jaeyun you know.
Or, more accurately, this is not the Jaeyun he usually shows.
This is another side of him, like seeing Jake wearing short-sleeves and showing his arms for the first time. Gone are his round, puppy eyes, now replaced with this narrowed, slit gaze that makes you shiver under his heated stare. He used to be so nervous around you, and you can feel that he's nervous now, too, but his pent-up sexual frustration seems to outweigh any rational daily-Jake thoughts.
This is still Sim Jaeyun. Just a different, never-before-seen side of Sim Jaeyun.
"Are we finally there?" Riki, the last one to awaken, stretches beside the two of you. You don't even notice that the car has pulled up into the driveway of Jay's ridiculously huge beach house from how piercing Jake's gaze is holding your eyes captive now.
Jake bites his lips, the fog in his head slowly clearing up now that the car has stopped. As if snapping out of a daze, he quickly maneuvers you into Riki's lap instead, showcasing his strength that he often hides. The latter yelps at the sudden weight and grabs your waist on instinct, before Jake darts out of the car without looking back.
"Sim Jaeyun! Bring your own fucking luggage!" Jay shouts from the car boot, but the brown-haired boy has already disappeared behind the door.
You sit, stunned in silence, still frozen and unable to speak. Not until Riki nudges at you, Heeseung and Sunoo impatiently asking the both of you to move so that they can get out.
"Are you okay, noona? Is hyung okay?"
You nod. You give the youngest a strained smile as you slowly move out of his lap and out of the car, careful not to start another war of hormones.
"We're okay."
The lie tastes bitter on your tongue.
Jake is avoiding you.
It's a foreseeable aftermath. It's inevitable. But it pains you regardless.
It gets to the point where he straight up refuses sitting next to you at dinner, which raises some eyebrows and teasing from the boys. But you know better.
He is deliberately avoiding you.
It frustrates you, really. Because every summer, it is your thing with Jake to sit in silence in the morning and read at the porch, enjoying the sunrise over wordless, comfortable silence. But now he purposely sleeps in, waking up later than usual, leaving you alone in the cold of dawn, your paperback copy of The Inheritance Games left untouched on your thighs.
At movie nights, he'll be the last one to join, just to see where you sit first to avoid being near you. He'll become extra quiet when you speak, acting like the floor is more interesting than your face, not even sparing you a glance.
And your patience is wearing thin. Almost thinner than the bikini you're wearing right now.
Fine. He can ignore you all he wants, act like he didn't just pop a boner after letting you sit in his lap. He can pretend like you never affected him, pretend like nothing happened, but one thing you know is that Jake could never betray his attraction for you.
So, be fucking it. You don't care if it's petty to pick the skimpiest bikini you own today, the one in hot pink that always contours the line of your cleavage, perfectly bunching up your tits and making them look rounder. The one that you know will drive Jake crazy from how bouncy your ass looks, basically confirmed when his eyes can't seem to stop trailing after you even after you dive into the pool.
You come to the surface with a gaping mouth, letting the water slide down the lines on your body, and make no show of hiding yourself from looking straight at Jake.
That coward has the nerves to look away after staring at you like a touch-deprived teenager.
"Is Sim Jaeyun single?"
The reason why you always agree to join the all-boys road trip is because it's not exactly all-boys. There are girls who live nearby. Girls you're acquainted with from how often you follow your cousin to his beach house every summer. Spoiled rich girls whose parents come from the same tax bracket as your and Jay's family.
And one of those girls is shamelessly checking Jake out now, hungry eyes drinking in the way his wet, long-sleeved shirt sticks to his torso, outlining the faint lines of his abdomen that he never shows. She's sitting on the edge of the pool, feet-dipping while you take a break from your swim.
You narrow your eyes, an ugly spark of jealousy blooming in your chest. You don't like the implication of the question, and you absolutely hate the way she's looking at him now.
"Don't even think about it."
Your neighbour only shrugs and continues her eye-fucking. "He's so my type. So nerdy, so smart. I wonder how he'll look like without the glasses?"
You will poke her eyes before she gets the chance to. "Use your own imagination," you hiss, almost bitter when you realise that you also have barely seen him without his glasses.
Jake has sensitive eyes that react badly to contact lenses, which explains his preference for thick glasses than going out without them. Even now, when everyone is fooling around Jay's enormous pool, his thick, black-rimmed glasses perch on the bridge of his tall nose—the nose you hope you can put into good use one day.
The girl only hums, half-listening to you. She sighs dreamily. "I can't believe that I have his number."
At this point, the jealousy has turned so ugly you're actually seeing green. Or red. Or whatever that Cortis song sounds like. "You have his number?"
She finally pays attention to you. "Yeap! I asked him yesterday. I don't know what I should say to start the conversation though," she pouts, glancing back at Jake who's now sitting on the side with Sunghoon, sipping on coconut water. "Should I ask him if I can join dinner at your house tonight?"
Jake gave his number to her?
You grit your teeth. The hurt has materialised into a knife, twisting in your chest in a sharp pain disguised in jealousy. So, while Jake's been avoiding you like a fucking plague, he's been spending his time giving away his number to any curious girl? He's been talking with other girls while leaving you with radio silence, one that you didn't deserve because it was him who popped that boner?!
You are the one who's supposed to ignore him—not the other way around!
What a fucking loser.
You can't stop the bitterness from leaking through your voice when you finally speak.
"It's me and Jay that you should ask—not Sim Jaeyun. And no, you cannot join dinner at my house tonight."
You leave her dumbfounded by the pool, seething in anger that the water on your skin could steam from the heat alone. You march to the slide doors, giving Jake and Sunghoon the nastiest side-eye you could ever give when the latter calls out to you, and slam the door behind.
Whatever. Or not whatever. Sim Jaeyun is a fucking pervert and a jerk and a coward, and stupidly hot while being so oblivious to how hot he actually is. Whatever! You don't care.
You don't care that he barely speaks a word to you. You don't care that he leaves any room you walk into. You don't care that he's flirting with other girls and giving away his number willingly when you had his on default for being Jay's younger cousin, and from Jay himself at that.
The corner of your eyes burn.
You wish you didn't care.
You're ignoring Jake.
Jake knows this the moment you no longer come to the porch to read. Instead, every morning is now spent in the garden with Jungwon, tending to Jay's mom's flowers. After, you'll brew some hibiscus tea that you pluck from the garden and share it with Sunoo and Riki.
And when he walks into the kitchen to get some food, you no longer meet his eyes, or save that apple that he knows you know he likes to eat for breakfast. You let Heeseung eat all of them! It's so—so unfair, because he likes apples and you know it!
It sends Jake to the end of a cliff. Why are you suddenly being like this?
His sanity is stretching thin as he tries to work his brain. Why the sudden change? Is it because of his silence? But he's just embarrassed to face you! Or—did you find out about it?
Genuine horror floods his mind when he thinks, oh no, you must've realised how disgusting he truly is. How dirty-minded and perverted he is, that every day he has to take cold showers three times a day whenever he catches a glimpse of you.
You in your sleepwear. You in your casual shirt. You in shorts.
You in bikini.
Jake has fallen out of any point of salvation, because God, could any man get this horny just from a mere look? In the back of his mind, he knows it's the image of you sitting in his lap that ignited the beginning of his undoing, but the continuous hard-on he gets whenever he's around you is definitely, entirely on him.
And Jake, oh so sweet Jake, doesn't dare touch himself to the thought of you. No. He'd rather leave his balls blue, take cold showers every morning, every evening, and every night, and let his dick go from standing tall like a national anthem was being played to becoming flaccid under the cold water without any action. He doesn't even have the guts to touch his own fucking dick, the guilt blocking him from doing anything to relieve himself.
So—did you find out about it? Because if you did, then Jake could understand the cold shoulders you're giving him.
But Jake is a mere man—maybe a bit perverted, and a bit too horny despite his image, so he couldn't stop himself from getting hard the moment he sees you walking into the living room in nothing but an oversized white tee that falls off your shoulder. He grabs the nearest cushion and places it on top of his crotch, blood already rushing south when he sees the strap of your black bra.
This is why he has to go to church sometimes; to balance everything out. Because Einstein never talked about the solution or formula to cure men's (Jake's) sexual desires that seem endless. And sexual desires that come from seeing a strap of a bra alone.
Whatever it is, Jake's soul has almost left his body, already tuning out of his surroundings. He doesn't even realise that Jay and Riki are wrestling for the TV remote, and accidentally sending said remote flying onto the floor just a few feet away from him.
He only comes to when you stand in front of him, back facing him, and bend over to pick up the remote.
You. Bend. Over. In. Front. Of. Him.
In a second, Jake has a full view of your ass. The shirt rides up slightly, revealing white shorts that stretches across the round flesh as you bend over to reach the remote and Jake feels like he's brought back to the car when he was fighting demons as you unintentionally ground his crotch with every movement.
His grip on the cushion tightens, head dizzy from the way you practically shove your butt in his face.
Jake releases a shaky exhale.
He can see the outline of your panties and wonders if it matches your black bra.
And he can see the outline of his doomed future if he stays in the living room any longer.
"Whose turn is it to pick the movie?" You casually ask, now straightening up as if you just didn't flash Jake with your perky ass.
"Jake hyung," Jungwon replies from the center of the long couch, carding his hand through Sunoo's silky hair, the blonde who's now laying down his head on his lap. "It's his turn."
Your face remains expressionless as you turn to the glasses boy. But instead of taking the remote from your hand, Jake stands up, avoiding eye contact and clutching the cushion tight over his crotch.
Then he flees the living room, leaving behind six confused men and one very angry, very upset girl.
Jake thinks he deserves a medal for surviving the living room.
Or perhaps an exorcism.
The moment his bedroom door clicks shut behind him, Jake drops the cushion onto the floor and drags both hands down his face with a groan. His glasses nearly fall off his nose in the process.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
He paces once across the room, then twice.
Outside, he can still hear the muffled sounds of the movie downstairs—Riki yelling dramatically at a character, Sunoo complaining about spoilers, Jay laughing too loudly. Normal sounds. Normal people.
Meanwhile Jake feels like he's one accidental glimpse of your shoulder away from committing a crime.
His eyes squeeze shut.
That white shirt.
The black bra strap.
The way you bent over in front of him so casually, completely unaware that Jake nearly ascended right there on Jay's living room couch.
"Fuck," he whispers weakly to himself.
Jake drops onto the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees.
Maybe he should take another cold shower. That would make four today.
"I should sleep," he mutters to himself, breath shaky. "S-Sleep can help with motion sickness and horniness."
With a newfound resolution, he turns off the lamp and settles under the blanket. His movement is stiff and awkward, overly aware of the tent straining his shorts. Once he pulls the blanket over his chest, Jake closes his eyes, forcing sleep into his system.
Only, the image of you swimming in your hot pink bikini flashes behind his eyelids.
"No, stop. Not that," he whispers, brows scrunching in protest. He shakes his head, as if physically removing the image away, and tries again.
This time, the image of you in his lap comes back, stripped down to heated skin and soft breaths, your body moving against his in ways that make his stomach twist.
His eyes fly open. The image is so clear and vivid, thanks to his photographic memory and insane imagination—the very thing that's been saving him in the academic department now serving as the tool that brings him to his downfall.
His cock twitches involuntarily.
"N-No," he pants, chest moving rapidly. He grips the edge of the blanket, knuckles turning white. "I—Stop—"
Then he remembers just now: you bent over, giving him a delicious access to his ass-shaped sufferings, and Jake almost whimpers from the flashback alone.
The room rises in temperature, the air conditioner doing nothing to tone down the feverish lust spreading through his body. Jake finally relents and discards the blanket, glasses all fogged up as he stares at the bulge under his shorts.
"I'm sorry," he whimpers, slipping off his shorts and boxers until they bunch up around his knees. "I'm so fucking sorry."
His cock springs free, standing tall in the dimness of his room. The tip glistens, already drooling with precum that shows no sign of stopping. With shaky hands, hesitance still edging around his lust, Jake finaly touches himself.
He has to bite down hard on his lips to muffle the sound threatening to escape. His hand stutters, the feeling of finally rubbing some relief after days of holding back comes crashing down on him. His head spins from how heavy his cock is in his hold, veins protuding like they're going to combust.
He slowly starts moving his hand, lathering up precum to ease the glide. His head tips back, a strangled sound catches behind his throat.
"Oh, God," his head spins, sparks of lust bursting at the tip of his fingers. "Oh, fuck—"
Through his hazy gaze of the blurry lenses, Jake tightens his grip slightly. A moan escapes his lips at the force, his cock only getting heavier in his hand. He plays with the mushroom tip of his dick, thumbing the slit and hissing when it sends pleasure up his spine.
"Ngh—" his eyes squeeze shut, brain putting up pieces of his memory of you. His body jerks when the rough pad of his thumb touches the underside of his cock, and as if on cue, the image of your jiggly breasts inside the car flashes behind his closed eyes.
"Fuck—Y/N," Jake sobs, picking up his pace. His wrist turns and flicks, biceps flexing hard at the speed he's going. Guilt starts accumulating inside his chest the more he thinks of you, of your voice, of your gaze, of your scent—but guilt isn't enough to stop Jake from chasing his own release.
"'So sorry," he chokes, letting go of his bottom lip, bitten-red and swollen. He imagines it was your hand instead of his, smaller and softer, with those manicured nails that he loves so much. How tiny your hand would look around his hard dick, trying to grip his length in its fully erect state.
Jake isn't inexpereinced. He's had his own fair share of sexcapades with a few people, and he's always been told that he's bigger than average. The big dick that he hides under his pants, further concealed by his nervous persona that only certain girls find cute.
But seeing his state right now, Jake thinks he's the furthest thing from cute.
He's pathetic.
Pathetic and gross and disgusting, feeling bad for jerking off to the thoughts of you but still unable to retract his hand and stop. The sound of his cries that he fails to hide fills up the space, and for the first time in days he's very glad that he won paper-rock-scissors during room assignment.
"Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," he chants, mouth gaping open when he can feel himself close. His wrist is already tired and numb from the relentless pace he's set, the slick sound of his sinful act matching the roar of his blood rushing in his ears.
"Please, please, 'm gonna cum," he sobs, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. His hips lift off the mattress. "Please—"
"Do not fucking cum, Sim Jaeyun."
Jake's entire body locks up.
His wrist stills immediately, pleasure crashing into horror so fast it makes his stomach twist. For a second, he genuinely thinks his heart stops beating.
The room goes dead silent except for his ragged breathing.
Through fogged-up lenses and teary eyes, Jake stares at you standing by the door, unable to process the fact that you're actually here.
That you heard him.
That you saw him.
Oh my fucking God.
His hand jerks away from himself like he’s been burned, chest heaving violently as he scrambles to sit up straighter. The blanket tangles around his legs from how abruptly he moves.
"I—"
Nothing comes out.
Jake has never felt this level of humiliation before.
Not when he failed his chemistry olympiad in tenth grade. Not when he tripped in front of his entire lecture hall. Not even when Jungwon found his hidden Pokémon card collection at nineteen.
This is worse. So much worse.
Because it's you.
You, standing there in that oversized white shirt slipping off your shoulder again, eyes dark and unreadable as you look at him sprawled across the bed like something shameful.
Jake feels sick. His face burns so hot he thinks he might actually pass out.
"S-Sorry," he chokes out instinctively, because apologising is the only thing his brain knows how to do right now. "I didn't—I wasn't—I—"
His voice cracks miserably.
Jake is going to cry.
What should he even say in this situation? Sorry that you caught him jerking off to you? Sorry that he's such a nerd, such a loser that the only time he could talk smoothly with you was when he was defining what motion sickness was, but never had the courage to tell you how much he likes you and how much you affect me? Sorry that he's such a pervert that he thinks of you in positions way too inappropriate to be just friends?
The weight of his arousal sits heavy against his thigh, a testament to a newfound, lifelong embarrassment that he'll carry to his grave.
Jake squirms under your heated gaze, and quickly covers his crotch with his blanket when you slip into his bedroom wordlessly. The door clicks shut, the sound amplified by the heavy silence hanging in the air. His body tenses up.
Oh my God—he messed up, didn't he? Jake hangs his head low in shame, tears gathering along his lashlines.
"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to…"
His vision turns blurry. Fuck, you must hate him now.
"I-It's wrong—I know that—I'm sorry—ah!"
Jake looks up in surprise when your bold hand cups his erection. There's angry lines in your forehead, a sneer on your mouth, but the nasty look you're giving him does nothing to soothe down his arousal.
If anything, twisted as it is—it turns him on even more.
"Couldn't even look me in the eye downstairs," you begin, "but you here you are, jerking off to me like I wouldn't find out?"
The venom in your voice hurts him. You're being mean with your words, and it hurts his feelings but Jake couldn't care less. His mind is a messy jumbles of guilt and pleasure and shame, so all he does is cry and shake his head.
"I-I'm sorry, Y/N—"
"Are you really sorry?" you tighten your grip on his cock, one knee dipping into the mattress. "Your dick doesn't seem sorry though."
Jake wants to cry—oh, he's already crying. His hand curls into the sheets beneath him, unable to form coherent words when you start rocking the heel of your palm on his hard-on. The friction from the blanket and the pressure from your hand only spark electric pleasure through his system.
Within seconds, Jake is all hard again—even harder than before.
"Tell me, Jaeyunnie. Did all of this happen because I sat in your lap?"
Jake whimpers pathetically. You knew. Of course you knew. You're not only hot and pretty and kind, you're also smart like him, so in tune with your surroundings. You're a little mean right now, but it's okay because Jake believes that he deserves this after avoiding you without any explanation.
"Answer me, Sim Jaeyun."
"Yes," he croaks, shame burning his face red. His eyes screw shut. The admission sets his being on fire, skin flushed from embarrassment. "O-Oh, God, y-yes."
He cracks one eye open when you don't reply. Instead, he's met with your fiery gaze. The edges have softened with lust, like you're also affected by this, but you're good at keeping your control.
Unlike him, who's unraveling like a loose thread under your touch alone.
Jake almost whines when you retract your hand, but the sound is muffled with a gasp when you yank the blanket open. He instinctively closes his crotch area with his hands, but you're fast to slap his wrists away.
"I'm so pissed off, Jaeyun," you mutter, swinging your leg over his thighs so now you're straddling him. You fix him with your sharp eyes, hand finding his dick again.
"You've been acting like we're strangers and it hurts me so bad."
Jake's mouth hangs open as you gather his precum and start working your wrist around his cock. His brain barely registers your words, too lost in a cloud of lust, but when he finally processes it, he desperately shakes his head.
He wants to apologise again and again and again, because he is truly sorry—he didn't know how affected you were. How could he not, when you're always described as everything out of his league, but he's always described as everything that doesn't fit your type?
"I'm sorry, I was just—fuck—just ashamed—" he gasps, hips bucking into your touch. "Didn't mean to—t-to hurt y—ngh, Y/N, faster please."
You coo at him, feigning sympathy as you set a ruthless pace on his cock. Jake is big—something that isn't a surprise anymore since that day you sat in his lap—but the sheer size of him is enough to make your mouth water and your panties damp.
Damn these nerdy boys. Acting all shy and innocent when they have this monstrousity hiding behind those ugly glasses.
"Faster? You wanna cum, Jaeyunnie?" you tilt your head. Jake nods frantically. "I don't think you deserve it, though. Why not ask from those girls you gave your number to?"
Something sharp twists in his stomach. Jake's eyes fly open, almost cowering when you give him a distasteful look. He grabs your arms desperately and shakes his head.
"N-No! She asked me first—" you put more pressure and Jake damn near loses his mind. "—said she needs—help—w-with Physi—cs—"
You roll your eyes. It's that easy to fool him? Can't he see the way those girls fuck him with their eyes? Without waiting for his sentence to finish, you sink down and take him in your mouth.
"Oh, fuck!" Jake screams, accidentally thrusting up his hips. He bites his lips, glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose as you take him deeper, tracing the line of his veins with your sinful tongue. "Oh, Y/N—please."
You hum around his length, tongue swirling as you hollow your cheeks to deepen the suction. Jake nearly busts from that alone, mind melting into a puddle of your name, the wet heat of your mouth serving as a better pleasure than his own hand.
You start bobbing your head up and down, marveling in the way the weight of his dick sits on your tongue. He's so big that you're so close to choking, but you don't care. You need to remind Jake how stupid he's been acting and how stupid he is if he thinks that you were not just as attracted toward him.
Jake sobs into his hands, hips jerking with every touch of his tip hitting the back of your throat. His head is getting dizzier, he can feel the coil in his stomach getting tighter and he knows that anytime soon, he will come undone on your skillful tongue.
But just as he's about to reach that high, you let go of him with a pop.
"No!" Jake whines, tears sliding down his cheeks. You're so mean. "P-Please let me cum."
"Not yet, nerdy boy." You mutter, red lips slick with saliva and precum. Jake can only sob, dick throbbing in need and desperation.
This is the punishment he deserves for being a jerk. He knows that, but he can't seem to stop crying. God, he's so pathetic.
Then he feels movement on his thighs. He blinks through the foggy lenses and lets out a breathless moan when you lift up your shirt and shorts and discard them away, leaving you in nothing but a pair of bra and panties. His mouth starts salivating at the display of your beautiful body, and Jake swears he almost cums when he sees that you're indeed wearing black panties.
Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Just as he imagined—God, you're so perfect he wants to kiss you.
But instead of a kiss, you push his at his chest instead. "Lie down."
And like the obedient puppy that he is, Jake follows your word, carefully descending his back onto the mattress. He's still sniffling from the previous denial, but now it's mixed with anticipation of what's to come when you hover above him.
You trace a gentle finger along the tall bridge of his nose, a barely-there touch that makes him shiver. With a slow tap on the tip of his nose, you finally speak.
"Did anyone ever ride your nose, Jaeyunnie?"
H-His nose?
Girls always compliment his nose, but he's never given it many thoughts as to why they did that. "N-No. Never."
There's a wicked smile on your face as you stand on your knees. Jake watches with a mouth gaping open as you make a show of shimmying down your panties, painfully and traitorously slowly that he almost rips it with his hand.
"Ah, what a shame," you sigh dreamily. "Guess I have to be the first one then."
Once your panties are out of the picture, Jake is instanly hit with a wave of your arousal. Your pussy glistens under the moonlight, soaked with slick and dripping with need. Jake inhales shakily, stopping himself from darting out his tongue to get a taste.
Fuck. He's sure he has actually died in the car and this is heaven because not even in his wildest dream did he get to have you like this.
Too lost in his reverie, Jake belatedly notices that you have removed his glasses. Despite your mean words and your mean actions, the caresses of your thumb on his cheeks are so gentle that he thinks he's hallucinating.
"You're so handsome, Jaeyun," you murmur. "But I bet you'll look better buried between my thighs."
You give him no time to recover from your crude words when you slowly move to straddle his head. Then, with a hand in his hair, you descend, letting the tip of his nose nudge at your clit.
And oh my fucking God—you smell so divine.
"Ah, Jaeyunnie," you moan, rocking your hips slowly to test the waters. "Your nose feels so good."
You sound even more divine. Jake's eyes roll to the back, savouring the way your sinful moans fall on his ears as you use his nose to get off. The bridge of his nose slides through your folds—wet and sticky and so sweet that he can't get enough of it.
Jake wraps his arms around your thighs to give you support, and another moan escapes your lips upon seeing his veiny arms around your supple skin. He stares at you through half-lidded eyes, groaning despite your cunt suffocating him, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure to your system.
"Ngh—Jaeyun—"
He can't breathe, and he can't hear properly from how hard you're clamping his head with your legs, but he can't deny that this is the best way to die. Being suffocated by your leaking pussy sounds like a dream death compared to dying in Jay's old SUV.
You keep your rhythm, rocking your hips back and forth, grinding your clit on his nose and dragging your folds on the tall bridge until the sharp tip of his nose catches at your hole. The grip you have in his hair hurts his scalp, but everything is worth the pain when Jake can watch you fall apart on his face, his own cock pulsing with a trembling need to cum.
"Ah—ah—Jaeyun oppa—"
Fuck. Fuck that sacred nickname.
The dynamics between you two often makes Jake forget the fact that he is indeed older than you. Coming from the States, it's uncommon for you to address people with such honorifics.
But right now, using that very honorific against him ignites something inside him; a carnal desire that's been thrumming low in his guts, waiting to be unleashed.
This time, Jake barely stops himself from stealing a taste. He darts out his tongue, prodding your hole with the tip, and hums in satisfaction when your stance falters slightly.
"Don't," you hiss, but there's no heat in it. Jake takes it as a sign to continue, licking more into your weeping cunt until your pace turns sloppy.
He doesn't care. You're probably gonna be so mad at him and punish him more, but whatever it is you have prepared can wait. Right now, Jake is having the best pussy of his life—barely breathing but still eating so, so fucking well.
"Jaeyun—stop—"
"No," Jake protests when you try to get up, pulling you down until the full weight of your body rests on his face.
Oh God, choking on pussy has never felt so good.
"Sim Jaeyun!" You squirm, feeling the stirring inside your belly getting wilder. Despite your weak attempts, your hips keeps grinding on his nose, showing no signs of stopping. You throw your head back.
You knew his nose would be the best thing to ride on, but hearing the slurps of your slick and his saliva—the sinful noises of him feasting on your cunt—makes you almost regret not letting him eat you out first.
"Ngh—Jaeyun—I'm close—"
Jake pulls your hips harder, letting you grind your clit on the tip of his nose as his tongue pushes into your hole mercilessly. You let out a high-pitched scream, muscles pulling tight at his ministrations. The double stimulations are fast pushing you over the edge.
Soon, white hot pleasure crashes into you, your vision turning black momentarily. It's so blurry and messy that you haven't realised that you've been screaming his name raw, hips unrelenting to chase the high. Jake swallows every drop of your sweet nectar, moaning into your spasming hole as he licks it clean.
Fuck. He's already desperate to have another round.
When you come down from your orgasm, hair matted to your forehead, you look down at him furiously.
"Let me go! I told you not to do it!" You attempt to sit up, but Jake doesn't let go, shaking his head with a pout. His nose and chin are drenched with your release, it's so sinful and filthy and you can't lie that you like seeing him so wrecked and fucked over like this.
"Can I have more? Please," he begs, kissing your inner thigh unhurriedly. He's already so addicted to the taste of you, Jake thinks he's gonna die if he doesn't have another fill. "I'll be so good to you, Y/N. Wanna eat you out so bad."
You grit your teeth, pushing away the temptation to save your pride. "No. Get up, Jaeyun."
But Jake is stubborn. He's so desperate to have more of you that he doesn't mind if he's leaving his own cock neglected and balls blue. "Please, I need it bad," he nudges at your pussy with his finger, pupils blown wide at the strings of sticky cum decorating your folds. "Fuck, please, Y/N, I want to eat you out."
"I said get up, Jaeyun."
"Y/N—"
"Jake."
The sharpness in your voice cuts through the haze instantly.
Jake stills immediately.
The desperation in his eyes flickers into something softer, more uncertain, like a scolded puppy finally realising he’s crossed a line. His grip on your thighs loosens at once, chest rising and falling hard beneath you.
The sound of his English name on your tongue feels foreign and almost painful, because it lacks the usual warmth and intimacy that your 'Jaeyun' usually holds. Yet, something inside him pulses harder, liking the change more than he'd like to admit.
“S-Sorry,” he whispers automatically, voice rough. “I just…”
He doesn’t even know how to explain it. How could he? That hearing you moan his name made him lose every coherent thought in his brain? That he’s spent days trying to stay away from you only to end up here, beneath you, completely ruined anyway?
You study him for a long moment before finally shifting off his face.
“Sit up.”
Jake obeys instantly.
The movement is clumsy and needy. His hair is a mess, lips swollen, face still flushed from lack of oxygen and desire. Without his glasses, his eyes look unbearably open like this—too honest, too vulnerable.
You cup his jaw gently, the touch losing its cruelty. Jake melts into it.
"There he is," you murmur softly, fixing his bangs that are obscuring his eyesight.
Jake can feel his heart stutter traitorously. This version of you—tender and sweet—a glimpse of the usual-you, is always more dangerous than any teasing.
Wordlessly, you tug at his shirt, and Jake obediently holds up his arms to let you peel away the fabric. Your eyes flick downward, amusement tugging at your lips.
"You know," you start, fingers trailing slowly down his sculpted chest, "for someone who acted terrified of touching me in the car…"
He groans softly, already embarrassed.
"…You were pretty damn desperate down there, Jaeyun."
His face burns hotter. Fine, he's just a touch-starved man, desperate for you in every way possible. But how could he not? Have you even looked at yourself?
"I-I can't help it…" His eyes drop to your lips. "You tasted so good."
A breathy chuckle escapes you, quiet and fond. But to Jake's ears, he's already hearing the wedding bells chime.
And suddenly the humiliation twisting in his chest eases into something warmer when you climb into his lap again, turning slowly until your back presses against his chest.
The exact same position. That fucking position in the car that has his mind on an endless frenzy that he thinks he was genuinely getting crazy.
Jake goes completely still beneath you.
“Oh,” you whisper, settling against him deliberately. “Now you’re quiet again?”
His hands hover uncertainly near your hips, like he still can’t believe he’s allowed to touch you.
“You’re mean,” he mumbles weakly against your shoulder. You laugh, one hand patting his hair as the other one aligning his neglected cock on your entrance.
"But I know you like it, Jaeyunnie."
At the same time you presses on the nickname, you sink onto his cock slowly, letting the bulbous head of his length spear you open.
The both of you moan simultaneously. Jake's hands find puchase on your waist, trying his best to stop from manhandling you to just fucking bounce on his dick and letting you adjust. You, on the other hand, let the stretch burn, your walls spasming to accommodate his length.
"S-So big," you stutter, taking him inch by inch. Jake drops his head on your shoulder, his own breathing ragged. "So—full—"
When he finally fits inside you to the brim, you let out a long, drawn-out moan. He fills you up so good that you can feel every vein against your walls, every pulse kissing your insides. It's a dizzying experience that prompts you to start moving your hips.
Jake’s fingers dig into your waist, trembling.
Not because he wants to stop you.
Because he’s trying so hard not to lose himself completely.
The position alone is enough to send him spiraling—your back against his chest, your body in his lap exactly like the car ride, except now there’s no seatbelt digging into his side, no boys teasing from the front seat, no restraint left between the two of you.
Just you and him.
And the devastating realisation that you wanted him too.
Jake lets out a broken sound against your shoulder when you move again, his forehead falling against your skin. His entire body feels feverish, overwhelmed by too much sensation and too many emotions crashing into him at once.
"Wasn't this what got you so hard, Jaeyunnie?" You pant between breathless moans. "Me in your lap, bouncing on your cock like this?"
"Ngh—" A strangled noise escapes his throat. Jake watches with bated breath as your hands find the clasp of your bra and finally let the two soft mounds free. Now, he badly wants you to turn around, eager to relive the scene of your bouncy breasts in Jay's car.
"Did you not—ah—crave this?"
You arch your back, pleasure tingling every nerves as his cock drags against your walls. Jake feels his dick throb inside your hole, the same position that ruined him now had him completely at your mercy.
"S-So tight," he whimpers, mouth falling open at the way you clench around his cock and roll your hips. "S-So fucking tight, Y/N, fuck."
Jake clings onto you desperately, bucking his hips to chase your movement. But you hold down a firm hand on his thigh, completely in charge.
"Don't," you warn, grinding down on him in a way that makes your ass ripple. "Or I'll get up and leave."
Jake freezes instantly.
The warning slices straight through him, sharp and effective. His hands tighten on your waist, but he forces his hips back against the mattress despite every instinct screaming at him to chase you harder.
“O-Okay,” he breathes quickly. “Okay. Sorry.”
God, he sounds wrecked.
You can feel the way his thighs tremble beneath yours, the strain in his breathing every time you move your hips slowly against him. Jake drops his forehead between your shoulder blades with a weak groan, like simply holding himself back is physically painful.
"I'm still mad at you," you murmur. You roll your hips again, faster this time, and Jake nearly whimpers into your shoulder. His jaw clenches so hard he might pop a vessel.
"Are you sure you're not the one—" you moan, your thighs burning from how fast you're exerting yourself. The wet sound of skin hitting skin starts getting louder the harder you slam down your hips. "The one who's being—mean?"
Jake sobs into your skin, half-regretting, half-dizzy. The tight heat of your cunt pulses and flutters around his dick and he genuinely feels horrible for only thinking using his other head now.
Even so, he still manages to apologise again. "I'm s-sorry—"
You clench around him on purpose. Jake digs his nails deeper. "Fuck—"
"Stop fucking apologising," you seethe, voice trembling as you feel your release getting near. "Delete her number or I'll sit in Sunghoon's lap when we get back to Seoul."
There's no bite in your threat. It's just a spur-of-the-moment kind of things, one that you say just to rile him up.
But Jake takes your words like a verdict. He snakes an arm around your waist, lips worshipping your skin in desperate, wet kisses.
"I'm sorry, Y/N, darling," he begs, tears clinging to his lashes. He bites his lips in an attempt to stop himself from moaning because he's so, so close. "I will block her. Fuck—I will delete her number. P-Please don't sit with S-Sunghoon—"
His speech is interrupted by a high-pitched whine. Jake hasn't come all night, he's nothing more than a thread waiting to snap. The moment you bounce harder and faster, the supple skin of your butt jiggling wilder, Jake can feel that he's about to come.
"Y/N—ah—p-puh—lease—" he whimpers, voice scratching at his throat. "'M close, 'm g-gonna cum—"
But he should've known that you're so, so mean.
The moment you lift off his cock, Jake genuinely sobs out loud, thrashing under you.
"No! No, please—" he chokes, hiding his crying face behind his hands, too shattered when his orgasm being denied again. "Please, no—I wanna cum, please."
You turn around and the sight of him—red-faced, wet cheeks, lips trembling—it softens your heart. You quickly pull his wrists and rest his hands on your hips, your own cupping his cheeks.
"I'm sorry, baby," you shush him, blowing kisses to the tip of his nose as you take him again. Jake whimpers quietly. "I'm so sorry—I'll let you cum this time, hm?"
Jake weakly nods, then lets out a soft moan at the familiar feeling of your walls enveloping him. You move again, already sore, but you no longer have it in you to torture your poor, poor Jaeyun. This time, you immediately begin with a fast pace, giving him a show of your tits bouncing with every thrust.
"Ah—fuck—Jaeyunnie—" you bite your lips, expression so erotic that it has the brown-haired boy drooling. "Glasses—like you better with glasses."
Jake is too dazed to register your words, so you pick the glasses on your own and put them on him. And there he is—your sweet, sweet boy, your Jaeyunnie that you adore so much, your Jaeyun that thinks it's bad for wanting you this much.
"S-So—handsome, Jaeyunnie," you roll your hips, chest arching into his face. "My nerdy boy, you're mine, hm?"
Jake physically cannot take it anymore. The sight of you on top of him, bouncing on his cock like your life depends on it, putting on his glasses and calling him yours—it's too much for Sim Jaeyun who's never been given this kind of attention and affection.
Especially from you.
His lips move, but you can barely hear him.
"Hm? What did you say?"
"I said I'm sorry, Y/N," his nails dig into your waist. "I'm so fucking sorry, please don't be mad at me."
Your brows furrow in confusion, but before you know it, Jake is already flipping you around, changing your position in one swift movement. You have half a second to gain your breath before the boy hovering over you pulls you closer by your ankles and throws your legs over his shoulders.
"I'm s-sorry," Jake stutters, slipping his dick back into your cunt and starts thrusting fast. "I-I can't hold it anymore."
Despite the showcase of his strength, Jake looks absolutely ruined. There's a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but from the pace he's railing you, you know that his lust ovverrides whatever little guilt he has.
Soon enough, the air smells so thickly of sex. The sound of his balls slapping your ass, accompanied by your high-pitched moans and his groans are the only one filling up the space, to the point that you're sure one of the boys must've heard you.
It's so hot and filthy that Jake's glasses are all fogged up again. His grip on your waist is now leaving bruises, but you don't care because all you can think of is Jake, Jake's big cock, Jake's stupid glasses and just Jake, Jake, Jake.
"F-f-f-fuck," he exhales shakily, splitting you open with his cock. "I-I'm so—close—"
You thrash around, fisting the sheets until it tears from the force of your nails. "Jaeyun—" you gasp when he keeps abusing that spot that has you seeing stars. "Oh, fuck—Jaeyun—harder—"
Jake leans forward, straining his arms on either side of your head. His glasses slide down his slick nose slightly when he bends down to capture your lips in his thick ones. You both moan into the kiss, finally getting the taste of each other, tongues already clashing for more.
Jake licks into your mouth, hips never faltering, and sucks on your bottom lip. You whimper, the sensation becoming too much until you're just breathing against his lips, all heat and teeth and saliva. Jake groans.
"I-I'm gonna—cum—" he gasps against your mouth, face scrunching in pleasure when you clench around him. "O-Oh my fucking God, Y/N, fuck—please let me cum inside."
His hands find your waist again, thrusting harder than before. His head drops to your shoulder as he begs, again and again.
"P-Please let me cum inside, please," he whimpers, voice needy and whiny. "Please—I'm gonna—I wanna—"
"Just cum," you moan when his teeth scrape against your skin. "Jae—Jaeyunnie—"
Jake groans. With last few, deliberate thrusts, he finally cums—a full-body orgasm that has him shuddering, his cock spurting out rope after thick rope of his release, painting your walls white.
You follow him just a second after, vision blurring for a moment as your second orgasm rips through your body. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream, eyes rolling back from how delicious your climax is.
Jake takes a long moment breathing into your ear, grinding his hips slowly before he's finally pulling out. He hisses as he drags out his cock, careful not to overstimulate you, and watches in awe as white fluid flowing out of your pulsing cunt.
"Oh my fucking God."
You breathe out a laugh, sounding breathless and disbelieving. Seeing Jake sitting still by your legs, you open your arms toward him.
"C'mere, Jaeyunnie. Let's cuddle for a moment before washing up—I'm too sore to walk."
Jake perks up at that. Gone is the hungry, lust-driven boy a few moments ago, now replaced with the shy, kicked puppy holding his tail between his legs.
"Cuddle?" he echoes, unsure. "Are you not mad at me?"
"I could never be mad at you for too long," you reply, giving him a reassuring smile.
It gives Jake a flicker of hope. He scoots closer, still cautious and observing, like approaching a scared animal.
"But I avoided you…"
You drop your arms and pretend to think, making a show of tapping your chin with a finger.
"You're right. You were mean for that. Why don't you carry me to the bathroom and clean me up so we can cuddle afterwards?"
Hearing that, Jake finally relaxes, his tight muscles loosening. With an eager smile, he scoops an arm under your knees and your back, and then lifts you up easily as if you weigh nothing.
"Your wish is my command, my princess."
The next morning, you receive knowing looks from the boys. There are lingering stares on your neck from where Jake was mauling your skin last night, but you have no problem showing them off.
Jake, on the other hand, is on the edge of another breakdown.
"So, Jake," Jay starts, already planning a mischievous teasing inside his head. "How did it feel like to get railed—"
"I did not get railed!" he squeaks, ears blushing red. "I-I was the one who railed her! Right, Y/N?"
There's a laugh bubbling inside your chest as you watch Jake squirm under the relentless teasing of his friends. It felt good to be the one in charge, but after that display of strength and the way he manhandled you last night?
You don't mind having him on top of you.
But the both of you know who's truly in charge.
And if you choose to sit in his lap again, this time grinding and shifting on purpose that he gets hard until the car reaches Seoul, nobody has to know that.
You and your rival, Heeseung, are forced to sleep on the floor together after a late-night group project because all other spots are taken. What starts as annoyed bickering and reluctant closeness quickly turns into heavy sexual tension.
contents ; rivalxrival, ( 18+ ) minors dni ! enemies to complicated, semi public sx, unprotected sx ( not recommended ), swearing! , blowjob, m! receive, spooning sx .
listen to me while reading
You and Heeseung had been rivals since the moment you stepped into the academy. Sharp-tongued, competitive, and unwilling to yield even an inch to each other. That rivalry had only grown worse during this group project. For days now, the two of you had been clashing nonstop—especially tonight.
The living room was dimly lit by a single lamp. The rest of the group had already given up and passed out, one sprawled across the couch, another curled up on the floor with a blanket. It was well past midnight, and the argument between you and Heeseung had dragged on far too long.
You finally threw your hands up. “You know what? Forget it. I’m tired. I’m not wasting any more energy on this.”
You rolled your eyes, not even waiting for his reply. The only space left was a narrow strip on the edge of the floor. Great. Just great. You muttered under your breath, “Dang it…” and carefully stepped over the sleeping bodies, too exhausted to grab your blanket from your backpack. You collapsed onto the cold floor, lying on your side with your back facing the room.
A few minutes later, you heard footsteps. Heeseung stood there, scanning the room with a heavy sigh. Every decent spot was taken. The chairs were too uncomfortable for his back, and the only free space left… was right beside you.
He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly annoyed. For a second he hesitated, jaw tight. But exhaustion won. Without a word, he stepped over the others and lay down behind you, facing your back. The floor was barely wide enough for both of you. You could feel the faint warmth of his body just inches away, but you were too tired to turn around or care.
Until you shifted.
Your eyes fluttered open as your shoulder brushed against something solid. You turned your head slightly… and froze.
Heeseung was right there. Eyes closed, brows slightly furrowed even in sleep, his face mere inches from yours.
“What the fuck?!” you hissed under your breath, careful not to wake the others.
Heeseung’s eyes snapped open. For a split second, surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by that familiar look of irritation. He didn’t move away.
“Keep your voice down,” he whispered sharply, voice low and rough from tiredness. “You think I wanted this? There’s nowhere else, genius.”
You glared at him, heart beating faster than it should. “Then go sleep somewhere else. I’m not sharing space with you.”
“Yeah? And where exactly?” Heeseung shot back, voice barely above a whisper. His breath brushed against your cheek. “The couch is taken. The floor’s full. Unless you want me to sleep on top of you, this is it.”
Your face burned. You hated how close he was—close enough to catch the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the tiredness in his eyes. Close enough that every small movement made your shoulders touch.
“Move one inch closer and I swear I’ll push you into the wall,” you muttered, turning your back to him again.
Heeseung let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. “Trust me, I’d rather be anywhere but here too.”
But neither of you moved.
the silence stretched between you, the only sounds were the soft breathing of your sleeping groupmates and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. You could feel the heat radiating from his body against your back, and no matter how much you told yourself it was just the rivalry making your pulse race… you knew the night had just gotten a lot more complicated.
A few minutes passed in heavy silence. You turned your face toward the wall, determined to ignore the boy behind you and force yourself to sleep.
But the floor was narrow and uncomfortable. One of your sleeping classmates behind Heeseung suddenly rolled over in his sleep and pushed against his back. The sudden force made Heeseung slide forward, pressing his chest flush against your back.
“Shit…” he mumbled, voice low and rough.
He quickly planted his hands on the floor, trying to keep some distance, but there was nowhere to go. The push had left almost no space between your bodies. You could feel the heat of him through your clothes, his breath brushing the back of your neck.
Your heart slammed in your chest. You turned your head slightly, only to find his face right there—barely a breath away. His dark eyes were open, staring directly at you. Your noses were nearly touching.
“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered sharply, cheeks burning.
“I’m not doing anything,” Heeseung hissed back, clearly frustrated. “That idiot behind me pushed me. You think I want to be this close to you?”
His voice was quieter than usual, strained. One of his hands was still braced on the floor beside your waist, caging you in without meaning to. Every small movement made your bodies press together even more. You could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat against your back.
You glared at him, but the anger felt different now—mixed with something nervous and warm that you refused to name.
“Well, move back,” you muttered.
“Where?” Heeseung shot back, eyebrows furrowed. His gaze dropped to your lips for half a second before snapping back up. “There’s literally no space. Unless you want me to climb over you.”
You swallowed hard. The tension between you was thicker than ever. The rivalry, the annoyance, the exhaustion… and now this forced, unbearable closeness.
Heeseung let out a slow, shaky breath. “Just… go back to sleep. Pretend I’m not here.”
But neither of you moved. And neither of you closed your eyes.
You tried to ignore it—that strange, fluttering warmth twisting low in your stomach. It wasn’t anger. You knew anger too well when it came to Heeseung. This was something else. Something softer, heavier, You brushed it off, blaming it on exhaustion, on the way his body heat was seeping through your shirt like it had no right to.
But your body wasn’t listening.
Every time you breathed, your back pressed a little more firmly against his chest. His heartbeat was steady but strong, and you could feel it syncing with yours in the quiet. His breath ghosted across the nape of your neck, warm and slightly uneven now.
“Stop moving,” Heeseung muttered, voice so low it vibrated against your skin.
“I’m not,” you whispered back, sharper than you meant to. But you had shifted—just a little—trying to create even an inch of space that didn’t exist. The movement only made your hips brush against his, and you both froze.
That flutter in your stomach dropped lower.
Heeseung’s hand, still braced on the floor near your waist, tightened slightly, fingers pressing into the hardwood like he was fighting the urge to grip something else. His forehead nearly touched the back of your head.
“Fuck,” he breathed, so quietly you almost missed it. “This is ridiculous.”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat felt tight, and that weird sensation was spreading—warmth crawling up your chest, heat pooling between your legs. You hated how aware you were of him. The faint scent of his skin, the way his thigh was almost slotted against yours, the solid line of his body curved behind you like it was made to fit there.
Another soft snore came from the guy behind him, and Heeseung got pushed forward again. This time there was no saving it—his hips pressed flush against your ass, and you felt the unmistakable hardness growing there.
Your eyes widened. Heat flooded your face.
“Heeseung—” you started, voice barely a whisper, mmhalf something else.
“Don’t,” he cut you off, strained. His lips were so close to your ear now. “Don’t say anything. It’s… it’s just biology, okay? I’m tired. You’re warm. That’s all.”
But he didn’t pull away.
And you didn’t shove him back.
Instead, you stayed perfectly still, heart hammering so hard you were sure he could feel it too. That flutter in your stomach had turned into a full ache now, low and insistent. Your thighs pressed together instinctively, and the small movement made you brush against him again.
Heeseung let out a shaky exhale through his nose, almost a hiss. His free hand twitched like he wanted to grab your hip but stopped himself halfway, fingers hovering just above your waist.
“You’re shaking,” he observed quietly. There was no smugness in his voice for once—just raw tension.
“I’m not,” you lied.
His dark chuckle was barely audible. “Liar.”
The silence stretched again, heavier this time. Charged. You could feel every inch of where your bodies touched—his chest to your back, his hips to your ass, his knees slightly bent behind yours. The rivalry that usually burned between you felt like it was melting into something else entirely.
You turned your head just enough to glance at him over your shoulder. His eyes were already on you, dark and intense, pupils blown wide. His lips were parted, breath coming a little faster.
For a second, neither of you spoke.
Then Heeseung’s gaze dropped to your mouth again, longer this time.
“…If you tell anyone about this,” he whispered, voice rough, “I’ll make your life hell.”
You swallowed. “Same goes for you.”
But neither of you moved away.
And when his fingers finally brushed—barely—against your waist, you didn’t push his hand off.
You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, trying desperately to force sleep to come.
One sheep… two sheep… three sheep…
It was useless. The counting only made you more aware of your own breathing, which was too shallow. Every inhale pressed your back more firmly against Heeseung’s chest. Every exhale made you feel the hard line of his body even more—especially the unmistakable heat and stiffness nestled against your ass.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
The warm flutter in your stomach had turned into a deep, throbbing ache between your thighs. You pressed them together again, but that only made it worse, sending a small shiver up your spine. You felt Heeseung’s breath hitch against the back of your neck.
“Stop squirming,” he whispered, voice dangerously low and rough. His fingers, still hovering near your waist, finally settled—lightly, almost hesitantly—on your hip. Not gripping. Just… resting there. Like he couldn’t stop himself.
“I’m not squirming,” you hissed back, eyes still shut. “I’m trying to sleep. Shut up.”
But your voice came out breathier than you wanted. You bit your lip hard, counting again in your head. Four sheep... fifth sheep...
It didn’t work. All you could focus on was the way his cock twitched against you when you shifted, the way his chest rose and fell faster now, the way his breath was scorching the sensitive skin of your nape.
Heeseung let out a quiet, frustrated groan, barely audible. His forehead dropped forward until it rested against the back of your head.
“You’re killing me here,” he muttered, so close his lips brushed your hair. “Just… stop moving for five seconds.”
“I’m trying,” you snapped under your breath. Your hand clenched into a fist against the cold floor. “This stupid feeling won’t go away. Damn it…”
He went still.
“What feeling?” His voice had dropped even lower. dangerously curious.
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Admitting it out loud would make it too real.
But your silence said enough.
Heeseung’s fingers flexed on your hip, pressing just a fraction harder. Not pulling you back, but definitely not letting you escape either. His hips moved—barely—an involuntary little roll that pushed his hard length more firmly between your clothed cheeks.
You sucked in a sharp breath.
“Fuck…” he breathed, almost like a curse and a confession at the same time. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
You kept your eyes screwed shut, heart pounding wildly. The ache between your legs was getting unbearable, a slick warmth starting to gather in your panties. You hated how your body was betraying you, especially with him.
“I hate you,” you whispered, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.
Heeseung let out a soft, dark chuckle against your neck, the sound sending goosebumps racing down your arms.
“Yeah?” His lips ghosted over your skin as he spoke. “Then why are you so warm right now? Why is your breathing all messed up?”
His hand slid slowly, cautiously, from your hip to your stomach, stopping just under your ribs.
You didn’t push him away.
And when his thumb brushed in a small, soothing circle over your shirt, the sensation in your stomach flared hotter.
“Damn it, Heeseung…” you whispered again, half plea, half surrender. Your eyes stayed closed, but your body leaned back into him just the tiniest bit.
You hissed through gritted teeth, voice barely above a breath, “Stop moving, god damn it—stop moving.”
Your body was betraying you with every word. Even as you said it, your hips gave a tiny, involuntary push back against him, chasing the friction you were trying so hard to deny.
Heeseung’s breath stuttered hot against the back of your neck. His hand on your stomach tensed, fingers curling slightly into your shirt like he was anchoring himself.
“I’m not—” he started, but his voice cracked into a low, rough whisper. “Fuck, you’re the one who keeps shifting.”
He was lying. Sort of.
Because even while he spoke, his hips rolled forward again, almost imperceptible, but enough to drag his hard cock more firmly against your ass. The thin fabric of your clothes did nothing to hide how much he wanted this. How much he hated wanting this.
You clenched your jaw, eyes still squeezed shut, trying to fight the slick heat pooling between your thighs. “Then stay still,” you hissed again, sharper this time. “Or I swear I’ll elbow you in the ribs.”
Heeseung let out a quiet, breathless scoff that sounded more like a groan. His forehead pressed harder against the back of your head, his lips now dangerously close to your ear.
“You say that…” he murmured, voice dark and strained, “…but your body’s not listening.”
His hand slowly slid lower on your stomach, stopping right at the waistband of your pants. Not dipping inside. Just resting there. Tempting.
You could feel his heartbeat hammering against your back, fast and unsteady. His cock throbbed once against you, and the sensation made your stomach flip hard.
“Shit…” he cursed under his breath. “You have no idea how much I hate you right now.”
But he still didn’t pull away.
Instead, his nose brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered, so quietly it was almost sinful
“…And you have no idea how badly I want to flip you over and shut that pretty mouth up.”
Your breath hitched loudly in the dark.
The ache between your legs pulsed.
And neither of you moved an inch.
You hissed under your breath, voice trembling with both fury and something far more shameful, “You’re such a whore then—”
The words barely left your lips before Heeseung’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling your hips back against him with a slow, deliberate grind. His hard cock pressed firmly between your ass cheeks, throbbing even through the layers of fabric.
He let out a low, dangerous chuckle right against your ear, the sound rough and dripping with irritation and lust.
“Yeah?” he whispered hotly, lips brushing your skin. “I’m the whore? Then why the fuck are you so wet I can feel the heat through your clothes?”
Your face burned with humiliation. You wanted to snap back, to push him away, but your body was a traitor—your back arched slightly, pressing harder into his chest as another involuntary shiver ran through you. Your thighs squeezed together, but that only made the aching throb between your legs worse.
Heeseung’s hand slid lower, fingers teasing just beneath the hem of your shirt, brushing bare skin. His breath was ragged now.
“Say it again,” he taunted quietly, voice dark. “Call me a whore while your ass keeps rubbing against my dick like you’re begging for it.”
You bit your lip hard, trying to stay quiet as his hips rolled again, filthy, grinding into you with just enough pressure to make your head spin. The slickness between your thighs was undeniable now, your panties growing damp and sticky.
“I hate you,” you breathed, but it came out like a moan instead of an insult.
Heeseung smirked against your neck, teeth grazing your skin for a split second.
“Liar,” he murmured. His fingers dipped a little lower, tracing the waistband of your pants. “Your body’s telling the truth. So fucking honest right now…”
He pushed forward again, trapping you tighter between his body and the floor. The tension was suffocating.
Neither of you was sleeping tonight.
“I- I can’t take this anymore,” you hissed, eyes squeezed shut so tightly you saw sparks behind your lids.
Your voice cracked with frustration, shame, and something far needier. The ache between your legs had become unbearable—hot, slick, and pulsing with every tiny shift of his body against yours. You hated how desperate you sounded. You hated even more that it was true.
Heeseung’s breath hitched sharply against your neck. For a second he went completely still, as if your words had stunned him. Then his hand on your waist gripped harder, fingers digging into your skin through your shirt like he was barely holding himself back.
“Can’t take what?” he whispered, voice low, dark, and dangerously close to your ear. “Can’t take me being this hard against you? Or can’t take how badly you want it?”
He rolled his hips forward again, slower this time, more intentional. His clothed cock dragged firmly between your ass cheeks, pressing right against where you were throbbing the most. A quiet, broken sound escaped your throat before you could stop it.
Heeseung cursed under his breath.
“Fuck… you’re shaking,” he murmured, almost like he was in pain. His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he continued, “You’ve been grinding back on me for the last ten minutes, acting like you hate it. But we both know that’s bullshit.”
His hand slid lower, boldly slipping under the hem of your shirt until his palm was flat against your bare stomach. The heat of his touch made your muscles jump.
You kept your eyes closed, biting down hard on your lip. Your breathing was ragged now, chest rising and falling too fast.
“I hate you,” you whispered again, but it sounded wrecked
Heeseung let out a soft, mocking laugh that vibrated against your back.
“Yeah? Then tell me to stop,” he challenged quietly, his fingers slowly tracing circles on your skin, inching dangerously lower toward the waistband of your pants. “Tell me to get the fuck away from you right now… and I’ll try.”
His hips gave another lazy, teasing grind, pressing his hardness right against your ass as if to prove his point.
You didn’t say it.
You couldn’t.
Instead, your head tilted back slightly, unconsciously offering more of your neck as a broken exhale left your lips.
Heeseung’s voice dropped even lower, barely audible, rough with want.
“That’s what I thought.”
His fingers finally dipped just beneath the waistband of your pants, hovering there, waiting.
“Last chance,” he breathed against your skin, lips brushing the sensitive spot right below your ear. “Tell me to stop… or tell me what you really need.”
His hand stilled, but his cock kept throbbing insistently against you.
Your heart was hammering so loud you were scared it would wake the others.
“Shut up,” you hissed, voice shaking with frustration and raw need. “Just fucking start already.”
Before Heeseung could even respond, you pushed your ass back against him harder, grinding deliberately against the thick, hard length straining in his pants. At the same time, you grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand upward, shoving it under your shirt until his palm was cupping your breast.
Heeseung’s entire body jerked against you.
“Fuck—” he choked out in a strangled whisper, eyes widening in the dark.
You tugged your shirt higher yourself, bunching it up just below your collarbone, exposing your bare chest to his touch. No bra. His warm, rough hand immediately squeezed your breast, thumb brushing over your already hard nipple.
Heeseung let out a low, shaky groan right against your neck, hips rolling forward to meet your grinding. His cock twitched hard against your ass as he palmed your breast greedily, squeezing and kneading like he’d been dying to touch you.
“You’re actually insane,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “Pushing your tits into my hand while calling me a whore…”
He pinched your nipple between his fingers, rolling it slowly, sending a sharp spark of pleasure straight down between your legs. You bit your lip hard to keep quiet, but a tiny whimper still escaped.
Heeseung’s other arm slid under you, wrapping around your waist and pulling you even tighter against his body. His hips started moving in slow, filthy grinds—pressing his clothed cock between your cheeks like he was fucking you through the fabric.
“Keep doing that,” he whispered hotly against your ear, lips brushing your skin with every word. “Keep rubbing your ass on me like a needy little slut.”
His hand on your breast grew rougher, squeezing harder as his breathing turned ragged. He rolled your nipple again, then slid his hand to your other breast, giving it the same attention while his hips kept that slow, torturous rhythm against you.
You could feel how wet you were now—your panties soaked, the ache almost painful.
Heeseung pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the back of your neck, then lightly dragged his teeth there.
“Tell me how far you want this to go,” he murmured, voice dark and dangerous, “because if you keep pushing back on my dick like that… I’m not gonna be able to stop.”
His fingers pinched your nipple again, harder this time, as if daring you to moan loud enough for someone to wake up.
You leaned back closer into him, lips barely brushing his jaw as you whispered hotly against his skin,
“Don’t stop then… or are you scared? Show me how brave you are.”
The challenge had barely left your mouth before Heeseung snapped.
He didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second.
With a sharp, impatient tug, he yanked his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. It sprang out, heavy and burning hot against your skin. In the same movement, his other hand roughly pulled your jogging pants and panties down in one swift motion, dragging them halfway down your thighs.
Cold air hit your bare ass and soaked pussy for only a moment before Heeseung pressed forward again. His thick, bare cock slid right between your thighs, gliding along your dripping folds.
“Fuck…” he growled low in your ear, voice trembling with restraint. “You’re soaked.”
He rocked his hips, letting his cock slide back and forth between your thighs, the head bumping teasingly against your swollen clit with every pass. One of his hands returned to your breast, squeezing hard, while the other gripped your hip, fingers digging into your skin as he held you in place.
“You talk so much shit,” he breathed, dragging his cock slowly along your slit again, coating himself in your wetness, “but look at you… pushing your bare pussy against me like a desperate whore.”
You bit down hard on your lip to stop yourself from moaning. The feeling of his hot, hard length sliding between your folds was driving you insane. Every slow thrust made the head of his cock nudge your entrance before sliding back up to rub your clit.
Heeseung leaned in, lips pressed right against your ear as he whispered darkly,
“You wanted brave?”
He pulled his hips back slightly, angled himself, and pushed forward.
The thick head of his cock pressed against your entrance, slowly stretching you open as he started sinking inside you from behind, inch by inch.
He groaned quietly into your hair, the sound rough.
“Shit… you’re so fucking tight.”
He didn’t stop. He kept pushing deeper, filling you up slowly but relentlessly, his hand tightening on your breast as he buried himself to the hilt inside you.
Both of you froze for a second, breathing hard, bodies locked together on the floor.
Then Heeseung’s hips started moving — slow, deep, filthy thrusts, careful not to make too much noise but hard enough that you felt every inch of him dragging inside you.
“Still think I’m scared?” he rasped against your neck, biting down lightly as he fucked you. “Tell me how brave I am now…”
“Fuck… fine,” you gasped, voice barely a whisper, trembling. “You’re brave… fuck, you’re brave—”
You turned your head just enough to glance back at him over your shoulder. Your eyes met in the dim lamplight, and you stared at him—lips parted, biting down hard on your lower lip to keep from moaning too loud.
Heeseung’s dark gaze burned into yours, pupils blown wide with lust. Sweat already clung to his forehead, his jaw clenched tight as he buried himself deep inside you with another slow, powerful thrust.
“Yeah?” he breathed hotly against your mouth, lips hovering just inches from yours. “Say it again while I’m balls-deep in you.”
He snapped his hips forward harder this time, burying his cock to the hilt. A broken whimper escaped you before you could stop it. The stretch was intense, the angle perfect, every thick inch dragging against your walls in the most filthy way.
Heeseung’s hand slid up from your breast to grip your jaw, turning your face further toward him so he could watch you while he fucked you. His thrusts stayed deep and steady — controlled, but getting rougher with every roll of his hips.
“Look at me,” he whispered roughly, eyes never leaving yours. “Look at me while you’re creaming all over my cock like you hate me.”
You bit your lip harder, eyes fluttering but refusing to close. The wet, quiet sound of skin meeting skin was barely masked by the heavy breathing between you. Every thrust pushed you forward slightly on the floor, his body completely molded to yours from behind.
“Fuck… you feel so good,” he groaned lowly, the confession slipping out like he hated admitting it. His grip on your jaw tightened as he leaned in and caught your lips in a messy, desperate kiss — all tongue and teeth, trying to swallow down both your moans.
He broke the kiss only to press his forehead against yours, panting.
“Still rivals?” he taunted in a husky whisper, slamming into you a little deeper, grinding his hips in small circles so his cock rubbed against that perfect spot inside you. “Or are you finally admitting you’ve been dying for me to fuck you stupid?”
His free hand slipped down between your legs, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, slick circles as he kept thrusting.
Your whole body trembled. You stared back at him, eyes glassy with pleasure, lips still bitten red.
Heeseung smirked against your mouth, dark and satisfied.
“That’s what I thought.”
He kissed you again, harder this time, hips picking up pace as much as he dared without waking the others.
Heeseung kept thrusting into you with deep, measured strokes, each one dragging a silent gasp from your throat. The pleasure was overwhelming, making your mind hazy.
You reached forward, pressing your hand flat against the cold wall for leverage, trying to steady yourself as his hips rocked into you from behind.
Heeseung noticed immediately.
Without warning, he hooked one arm under your knee and yanked your leg up and wider, spreading you open even more. The new angle let him sink impossibly deeper, his cock hitting a spot that made your eyes roll back.
“Heeseung…” you whimpered breathlessly, the name slipping out like a broken plea.
“Fuck,” he groaned quietly against your neck, voice rough and strained. “Say my name like that again.”
He held your leg high, fingers digging into your thigh as he fucked you harder — still trying to stay quiet, but the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy was getting louder. His other hand stayed braced on the floor near your waist, caging you in while he drove into you with long, filthy strokes.
Every thrust pushed your chest harder against the floor, your shirt still bunched up, nipples rubbing against the fabric. Your hand on the wall curled into a fist as pleasure shot through you.
“Heeseung… ah—” you gasped again, biting your lip right after to muffle the sound.
He leaned over you, chest pressed flush to your back, lips right against your ear as he panted.
“Yeah? You like that?” he whispered, voice dark and mocking even while he was buried inside you. “Legs spread open for me on the fucking floor while our group is sleeping right next to us?”
He snapped his hips forward sharply, grinding deep, his cock rubbing perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you with every roll.
Your eyes fluttered, another soft “Heeseung…” escaping before you could stop it.
He smirked against your skin and bit down lightly on your shoulder, thrusting faster, deeper, chasing the pleasure he could no longer control.
“Keep saying my name like that,” he breathed, voice husky, “and I won’t be able to stop even if someone wakes up.”
His fingers on your thigh tightened, spreading you even wider as he fucked you relentlessly.
“I’m gonna cum… fuck— Heeseung,” you gasped, voice shaking and barely a whisper as your walls started clenching hard around his cock.
Heeseung’s breath hitched sharply. His eyes darkened instantly at your words.
“Shit— already?” he hissed against your ear, but there was clear satisfaction dripping from his tone. He yanked your leg even higher, spreading you obscenely wide as he fucked you deeper, faster, more desperately.
His hips snapped against your ass with wet, muffled slaps. He pressed his forehead hard against the back of your head, panting heavily.
“Then cum,” he growled lowly, voice rough and commanding. “Cum on my cock like the needy little slut you are. Right here. On the fucking floor.”
Heeseung’s hand left your thigh and slid down between your legs, rubbing tight, fast circles on your swollen clit while he kept pounding into you from behind.
Your hand on the wall trembled. Your whole body tensed, thighs shaking violently as the pressure built unbearably fast.
“Look at me,” he demanded in a harsh whisper.
You turned your head just enough. The second your eyes met his — dark, intense, and burning — your orgasm crashed into you.
You bit down hard on your own arm to muffle the moan that tried to rip out of you. Your pussy clenched and fluttered wildly around his thick cock, gushing slick heat as you came hard.
Heeseung groaned through gritted teeth, eyes locked on your face the entire time, watching you fall apart.
“Fuck— that’s it… good girl,” he rasped, still thrusting through your orgasm, drawing it out. “So fucking tight when you cum.”
Your body kept shaking, waves of pleasure rolling through you as he fucked you through it. Heeseung’s rhythm started to falter, his own breathing turning ragged and desperate.
He buried his face in your neck, biting down to stay quiet as his hips stuttered.
“I’m close—” he warned, voice strained, hips slamming into you a little harder. “Where do you want it?”
His cock throbbed violently inside you, clearly right on the edge.
“My mouth,” you whispered desperately, voice hoarse and trembling. “Cum in my mouth.”
Heeseung’s eyes flashed with raw hunger at your words. He let out a shaky, almost pained exhale.
“Fuck… you’re filthy,” he groaned quietly, but the way his cock twitched hard inside you told you how much he liked it.
Without wasting another second, he pulled out of you slowly, his thick length glistening with your juices. You quickly turned around on the floor, facing him. Heeseung sat up slightly, leaning back against the wall while you moved between his legs.
He gripped your hair tightly with one hand, guiding your head down as his other hand stroked his slick cock a few times.
You didn’t hesitate.
You wrapped your lips around his throbbing tip, tasting yourself on him as you took him into your warm, wet mouth. Heeseung’s head fell back, jaw clenched tight as he fought to stay quiet.
“Shit— just like that,” he whispered, voice wrecked. His hips bucked up gently, pushing more of his cock into your mouth. “Suck it… fuck, your mouth feels so good.”
You took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, tongue swirling around the underside as you bobbed your head. Heeseung’s grip on your hair tightened, breathing fast and ragged.
“I’m so fucking close—” he warned, eyes locked on your lips stretched around him.
A few more strokes of your mouth and he broke.
With a choked, quiet groan, Heeseung came hard. Thick, hot spurts of cum filled your mouth as his cock pulsed against your tongue. He kept his hand in your hair, holding you there while he emptied himself, hips twitching.
You swallowed every drop, sucking him gently through the aftershocks until he was shuddering and oversensitive.
Finally, he pulled you off with a shaky breath, chest heaving. His dark eyes stared down at you, lips parted, sweat on his forehead.
For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other in the dim light — faces flushed, breathing heavy, the rivalry still burning underneath everything… but now mixed with something much more dangerous.
Heeseung wiped the corner of your lip with his thumb, then pushed it into your mouth so you could lick it clean.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered, voice low and rough.
He pulled you up and against his chest, both of you still half-naked on the floor, hearts still racing.
The next morning came too quickly.
You were already fully dressed, curled up on your side when a bright, cheerful voice echoed through the living room.
“Kids! Breakfast is ready~ Come eat before it gets cold!”
Your classmate’s mom clapped her hands a few times, her footsteps moving around the room as she gently shook the others awake. Groans and sleepy complaints filled the air as everyone started stirring.
You stretched your arms above your head with a soft groan, your back popping slightly. Your body felt sore in the best and worst ways — thighs aching, a faint throb between your legs, and the unmistakable reminder of last night with every small movement. You quickly sat up, fixing your messy hair and avoiding looking toward Heeseung.
But you could feel him.
Heeseung was already awake, sitting up a few feet away. His hair was tousled, eyes still heavy with sleep, and there was a faint red mark on his neck that definitely wasn’t there yesterday. He glanced at you the moment you moved, his gaze dark and unreadable.
For a split second, the memory hit you hard — his cock in your mouth, the way he groaned your name so quietly, the taste of him on your tongue.
Your cheeks burned.
“Morning everyone!” your classmate’s mom called again, smiling brightly. “There’s rice, eggs, and soup. Hurry up before the boys eat everything!”
The others slowly got up, yawning and stretching, completely oblivious. One of them even stepped over the exact spot where Heeseung had fucked you just hours ago.
You stood up and brushed off your clothes, pretending to be normal. But as you turned, Heeseung was suddenly right beside you, close enough that his arm brushed yours.
He leaned in slightly while everyone else was distracted, his voice low and rough against your ear.
“Sleep well?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smug little smirk. “You were moving around a lot last night.”
Your stomach flipped.
You shot him a sharp glare, cheeks heating up again. “Shut up,” you hissed under your breath. “Not a single word.”
Heeseung’s smirk only grew. He looked far too satisfied for someone who was supposed to be your rival.
As you both walked toward the dining area with the group, he stayed annoyingly close. His fingers brushed against the back of your hand for half a second — not quite holding it, but definitely not accidental.
You elbowed him lightly in the ribs.
“Asshole,” you muttered.
“Needy little liar,” he whispered back, so quietly only you could hear.
You sat down at the table across from each other. Every time your eyes met, the tension crackled. Heeseung’s gaze kept dropping to your lips for a second too long, like he was remembering exactly how they looked wrapped around him.
You kicked his leg under the table.
He kicked back.
But neither of you could hide the faint flush on your cheeks… or the way your heart raced every time he looked at you.
The rivalry wasn’t gone.
It had just become something much more complicated.
Thank you so much (◕ᴗ◕✿) for all the love and support! This is my first time receiving 1k+ likes here. I know you guys really want a part 2, but honestly, I don’t have anything in mind yet on how to continue the story As much as I want to make a part 2, my mind is completely blank right now
(*´ω｀*) 🪽 but who knows? Maybe I’ll come back to it and brainstorm some ideas. I might make a part 2 in the future, but for now, this will stay as an open-ended one-shot story. That’s all, and I hope you guys enjoyed it and I'm happy with the comments and support I received ♡
*synopsis: Montana is the state where the most beautiful summer camps of all are held, every year hundreds of children couldn't wait to spend three months away from their families to stay at a summer camp cooking marshmallows, hiking the various nature trails, and swimming in the campus's natural pools. You too had been through all these experiences from your 10s until you were 15 and now that you were of age you would have become an entertainer but you hadn't counted on something that would be on summer campus too Niki, Niki was the classic “bad boy” of the town with all the girls at his feet and with petty crimes caused as a ‘joke’. But what if Niki had to be sent to work as an entertainer on summer campus for “punishment” and you, the classic good girl with zero experience in boys, had to share a room with him? A disaster from day one you can't get along with him but between bonfires with marshmallows, dives in ice water and confessions under the stars maybe the idea of spending 3 months on summer campus with Niki wasn't so bad
*word count: 34k
*tags: At first Y/n and Niki can't stand each other, they love teasing each other, first kiss (many kisses) fluffy, Niki may seem a little bit of an asshole but then becomes obsessed but in a good way with Y/n, masturbation, discovery of spicy books, loss of virginity (protected sex) there will be misunderstandings, jealousy, +18, tattoo kisses, love statement, pet names (good girl, wren)
The sky above Camp Montana was a blue so deep it almost looked unreal, the mountains in the distance veiled by a soft haze. The chirping of birds lulled you into relaxation, while the gentle lapping of waves against the shore in front of the common room’s porch gave the place an air of tranquility, though in just a few hours, it would transform into a bustling summer camp, teeming with kids eager to find their cabins and meet the friends who would share the secrets of a summer unlike any other.
Camp Montana was one of the most famous summer camps in the stat and beyond with hundreds of kids signing up months in advance for an unforgettable experience. As a child, you were one of them: not just another little girl with dirt-streaked braids and scraped knees, but now, an animator. You wore the iconic red Camp Montana hoodie, the eagle emblem emblazoned on the chest, your name stitched beside it. Your jeans bore the camp’s logo, and you carried all the gear and perks that came with the role, everything you’d dreamed of as a kid.
Back then, this place was pure magic. You’d spend nights by the campfire under a sky full of stars, sticky fingers wrapped around half-burnt marshmallows. You’d race through the woods with your friends, laughter echoing across the lake as you leaped from inflatables into the water. It was the place where you dreamed of growing up, of wearing that hoodie, of being loved by the kids just like your favorite animators—women you still remembered fondly.
But now? Now, Camp Montana was different. Now, there were responsibilities of every kind: comforting homesick children, reassuring worried parents over the phone, pulling night shifts to make sure no one snuck out of the cabins. There were judgmental glances from the other animators, whispers, and gossip slithering between the bungalows. You’d expected a peaceful summer, but life had other plans. Maybe fate was playing a cruel trick on you—or perhaps, the most beautiful one of your life.
The common room at Camp Montana was a massive wooden space, its walls covered in faded photos of summers past, some of them featuring you, with your childhood braids and braces. Colorful flags hung from the ceiling, each one signed with the names of past animators. The air was thick with the scent of coffee, freshly baked butter cookies, and burning wood. On one side, there were industrial kitchens and long tables where chaotic, noisy meals were served every day. On the other hand, a small loft where the camp president a man in his sixties with a stern, gray-bearded face was outlining the rules on a flip chart, rules that would govern the next three months, especially the ones animators were forbidden to break.
Lia, one of your closest friends: someone you’d spent countless summers with at camp, sat beside you, legs crossed, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she read aloud the "Forbidden Things for Camp Animators" written in bold red on the board:
FORBIDDEN THINGS FOR CAMP ANIMATORS:
Swimming in the lake after 10:00 PM (seriously dangerous without a lifeguard on duty).
Alcohol or drugs (zero tolerance anyone caught using drugs will be expelled immediately).
Outside guests (no bringing in boyfriends/girlfriends).
Smoking in common areas (there are two designated smoking zones—check the camp maps).
Public arguments (keep your drama private, not in front of the kids).
Abandoning your shift (if you’re on duty, you stay on duty until your shift ends).
Bringing weapons (this is a summer camp—parents expect their kids to be safe).
Damaging nature (we’re here to teach kids to respect the environment—no cutting trees, littering, etc.).
You studied the rules carefully. Most of them were reasonable, but Lia didn’t seem to agree.
"Listen to this, Y/n," she whispered, pointing at the first rule. "‘No swimming in the lake after 10:00 PM.’ Pfft! We all did it! Remember when we used to sneak out at night and dive in, then run back screaming like maniacs?" She giggled, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing. Yes, even though you’d always been seen as the "good girl," the studious one, you’d had your share of rebellious moments at 16 or 17—moments you now carried in your heart.
"Yeah, but we’re animators now, Lia," you reminded her, nudging her gently. "We’re here to work, have fun, and most importantly set a good example for the kids."
Lia rolled her eyes. "Oh, please! Give it a week, and 99% of us will have broken every single rule. Look around, half these people are just here to escape their parents, hook up in the bungalows, and have a summer they’ll tell their future kids about in a few years."
Before you could respond, the door to the common room swung open. It couldn’t be the kids, they weren’t arriving yet. Instead, what you saw—what everyone saw—was a head of bleached-blond hair with dark roots, broad shoulders, and a towering height of at least 1.95 meters. His expressive eyes and lips were the kind every girl in the room would dream of kissing. Niki because that’s who it was ducked slightly to fit through the doorway, as if even the entrance had to adjust for him. He walked toward the group of animators with an arrogant confidence that sent shivers down spines, and every girl in the room gasped:
"Oh my God..."
"Is that....?"
"It can’t be him."
You turned away sharply, trying not to look, but Lia’s eyes widened, and she elbowed you. "What the hell is Niki doing here?!" she hissed, her voice a mix of shock and excitement. "Wasn’t he supposed to be doing community service for that mess with the stolen cars? Everyone knows he organized those illegal races during the Cowboy Festival!"
You shrugged, feigning indifference, even though your heart was pounding. Unfortunately, you knew Niki. You’d grown up in the same small town, gone to the same university, you studied child psychology while he leaned into the arts, photography, and drawing.
I have no idea," you muttered, biting your nail. "But one thing’s for sure: that guy is a walking disaster. He can’t be an animator here with all these kid —he’s a ticking time bomb."
Niki sat down two rows ahead of you, crossing his long legs with effortless nonchalance. You clenched your fists as he tilted his head slightly, his signature cowboy hat—now in a "baggy style"—shadowing his face. The president glared at him with open disdain, clearly afraid Niki would bring trouble to this little slice of paradise.
The president clapped his hands loudly and cleared his throat into the microphone. "Alright, now that all our camp animators have graced us with their presence, we can begin!" His voice was sharp, dripping with sarcasm. "As you know, every year, we pair you up for teams and bungalows. Each bungalow has two single beds, a small reading area, a mini kitchen, a bathroom, and a porch with a hammock. Some overlook the lake, others the mountains, and some are near the kids’ cabins. The pairs are mixed—it’s been a tradition for years, and we’ve never had issues with boys and girls sharing. You’re all adults and responsible, so I trust you’ll have a great time with your new roommate. Now, let’s announce the pairs!"
You glanced at Lia, who rested her head on your shoulder and smirked. "I’d bet anything we’re rooming together, but we both know that’s not happening." You nodded, already resigned. A murmur spread through the room.
"I’d pay gold to be paired with Niki!" a red-haired girl shrieked. "I want Keeho!" another yelled, eyeing the guy sitting next to Niki. "Joshua’s mine!" another chimed in, her English flawless.
You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever chaos was about to unfold.
The camp president scrolled through countless slides on the interactive whiteboard, and with each new slide, your stomach twisted tighter. For what felt like an eternity, your name and photo refused to appear. As anxiety clawed at you—like it always did—you started gnawing at the nail of your index finger, eyes locked on the screen. It was as if the blank slide delighted in torturing you, flashing one animator pairing after another, but never yours.
Then, your name blared through the speakers, just a little too loud.
"Y/n will be paired with Niki for the next three months in Bungalow 20," the president announced, his gaze almost pitying as it landed on you.
You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. There, on the screen, was your photo—smiling, the picture of the "girl next door"—paired with Niki’s. If you’d had a permanent marker, you would’ve drawn giant horns on his head and a ridiculous mustache over that smirking mouth of his. It was a low blow, no, a cruel joke from fate. The president must’ve had a twisted sense of humor, or maybe he was just a sadist, delighted at the thought of turning your summer into the worst one of your life.
Lia, your so-called best friend 'the traitor' started patting your head sympathetically, but it didn’t take long for her to dissolve into giggles.
"Well, look on the bright side," she whispered, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "If you survive three months living with him, your psychology thesis will write itself. Either that, or you’ll end up in the news as an accomplice in some illegal drift racing scandal. Either way, Y/n, you’ll be legendary."
You shot her a glare and buried your face in your hands, feeling your ears burn. "I hate you," you mumbled. "This is a nightmare. He’s literally the one person in all of Montana I wouldn’t even want to share an elevator with, let alone a bungalow for three months."
With that, you bolted up, grabbed your things, and stormed out, avoiding everyone’s eyes—especially his. You could feelNiki two rows ahead, smirking, that infuriating grin plastered on his face. You lugged your bags with a strength you didn’t know you had, marching toward the upper part of the camp until you reached Bungalow 19… and then, Bungalow 20.
And Bungalow 20 was objectively perfect.
If it weren’t for your soon-to-be roommate, you might’ve cried with joy. The bungalow sat on a small hill, its wooden porch complete with a hammock big enough for more than two people. The view of the lake was straight out of a National Geographic postcard, and the mountain ridges stretched across the horizon. You pouted at how beautiful Montana could be, then dragged your suitcase—heavy as if you’d packed a corpse inside up the steps and threw open the door to your new home.
The interior was cozy, with a scent of vanilla. On the table, two shiny new badges gleamed in the afternoon light, beside a basket of warm butter-vanilla cookies a welcome gift from the camp kitchen. Next to it, a letter with the camp’s official stamp and the president’s signature. You skimmed it:
The animator pairs hadn’t been chosen at random. No, the president had studied each of you carefully, spending days crafting the "perfect" pairings. You were cautious, level-headed, someone who hated lying and taking risks. Niki, on the other hand, was cunning, self-serving, and always looking for a challenge. "You’re the sun, and he’s the storm," the letter read. "You’ll balance each other out."
You couldn’t believe what you’d just read. You wanted to crumple the paper into a ball and hurl it into the lake, but you knew Niki would have to read it too. So, like the good girl you were, you slapped it back onto the table and shoved a cookie into your mouth, chewing angrily as you stormed into the bedroom.
The beds were too close: both queen-sized, separated only by a flimsy nightstand. You claimed the one by the window, thinking that if either of you stretched out an arm in the night, you’d probably touch. You shook your head, muttering to yourself as you unzipped your suitcase and started unpacking. For twenty minutes, the world almost felt normal. You could hear the distant sounds of other animators unpacking, laughter echoing from nearby bungalows, the gentle lapping of waves against the lake’s rocky shore, and the chirping of birds. Normally, these sounds would’ve soothed you.
But peace wasn’t going to last.
The bungalow door creaked open, and the thud of Niki’s leather duffel bag hitting the floor told you one thing: your peace was officially over. The longest three months of your life were about to begin.
He strode toward Bungalow 20, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes in that defiant, street-meets-prairie style of his. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how his life had turned into some cheesy teen movie. He and his friends had planned to leave Montana for a couple of months a road trip through California, Oregon, all the way up to Canada. But then, surprise, he’d been caught behind the wheel of a stolen, tricked-out car, drifting like an idiot after watching one of his best friends win the world rodeo championship. It had been a stupid move, and his parents had bailed him out—literally—paying his bond for the joyride with stolen cars. He’d expected to end up picking up trash on the side of the road or serving meals at a soup kitchen. Instead, fate had other plans.
And now here he was, strolling through a summer camp, sentenced to three months of untouched nature, suffocating rules, and an endless horde of screaming kids as a counselor. When the town—and his parents—had first suggested it, he’d laughed in their faces. Him, babysitting a bunch of rule-breaking brats (just like he’d been)? No thanks. But here he was, and the cherry on top of this absurd sundae? You.
You were the classic good girl of the town: mayor’s daughter, straight-A student, the kind of girl every mom dreamed of for their wayward sons. The thought of spending three goddamn months with you made him want to punch something. But at the same time, it intrigued him. Because even good girls had secrets, and he was dying to uncover yours.
When he pushed open the bungalow door, the contrast hit him like a slap. The air smelled of vanilla, butter, and cherry—sickeningly sweet, almost too clean, the exact opposite of his own scent of mint and spice, the kind that lingered even from a mile away. He dropped his duffel with a heavy thud onto the wooden floor. His eyes landed on the vanilla-butter cookies left by the kitchen staff, the note reading, "Made with all the love for our favorite new counselors." He rolled his eyes, then spotted the president’s letter. As he read it aloud, his expression shifted from shock to amusement. The letter praised you like some saint, while it described him as if he were a seven-headed monster. He shook his head, laughing at how surreal this whole situation was.
With half a cookie still in his mouth, he walked into the bedroom. You were bent over, meticulously arranging your tank tops with a precision that both irritated and fascinated him. He watched your wispy braids sway with every movement, and admitting it only to himself your body wasn’t half bad for someone who spent their life buried in books. The way your jeans hugged your hips, the way your tank top accentuated your chest—damn. He cleared his throat, unable to resist.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, his smirk promising nothing but trouble. "If it isn’t Miss Braids herself...my roommate for the next three months."
You whipped around, glaring at him with a look that could’ve incinerated anyone else on the spot.
"Oh, joy," you snapped, your voice sharp as a blade. "I’m thrilled to share a room with a two-bit delinquent."
Niki chuckled, reaching out to brush his fingers over the cover of one of your classic novels Wuthering Heights, some psychological thriller he’d never even heard of. "Looks like even the library mouse knows all about my life."
You crossed your arms, lifting your chin in defiance. "I couldn’t care less about your life. In fact, the less I hear about it, the better. But we do live in a small town where gossip spreads, and unfortunately, my dad’s the mayor, so I’ve had to listen to more about your stupid antics than I’d like."
You took him in, your lips curling into a slight pout. Niki had an undeniable aura intimidating, yet magnetic. He was the kind of guy you didn’t forget easily, and that annoyed you even more.
Niki sighed, ignoring your jab, and flopped onto his bed. The wooden frame groaned under his weight—all 6’5” of muscle and arrogance seemed almost too much for the half-queen mattress. He stretched lazily, the movement hitching his oversized hoodie up just enough to reveal a sliver of golden skin and the waistband of his Playboy boxers peeking out from his low-slung jeans. You knew Niki had his own style, and you couldn’t deny even to yourself—that it wasn’t entirely unappealing. Your eyes flickered there for just a millisecond, and he caught it. A victorious smirk spread across his lips.
"Your parents are gonna lose it when they find out their sweet little angel has to share a room with a ‘criminal’ for three months," he mused, touching his lips thoughtfully, shattering the brief peace.
You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. "They trust me and I won’t do anything reckless...or wrong in your presence."
You crossed your arms tighter beneath your chest, a defensive gesture that only drew Niki’s attention. In two quick strides, he closed the distance between you, towering over you with his imposing frame. The scent of spiced mint filled the air, thick and intoxicating.
"Mmm, we’ll see," he murmured, lowering his head near your ear. "If I were a parent, I wouldn’t be too comfortable knowing my daughter had to spend countless nights in my company, wren."
Your face flushed with anger and something else, something forbidden. You slapped his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric. "You’re just a lost cause, Niki and stop calling me wren!"
He let out a low, rough laugh as he headed toward the bathroom to unpack. "Never. We both know you’ll never outgrow me."
And there you stood, frozen in the middle of the room as the bathroom door clicked shut, your heart pounding, anger battling with an annoying, unwelcome rush of adrenaline.
A week had passed since the summer camp started, and if there were an award for patience, they should name a town square after you or better yet, erect an entire statue in your honor right in front of your hometown’s city hall. Sharing Bungalow 20 with Niki wasn’t just a challenge, it was a refined form of psychological torture. And for someone as naturally calm and patient as you, he made every day harder than the last.
Problem number one? Sleep. You loved slipping between the sheets at a decent hour—okay, maybe you were a little too fond of going to bed early. By 9 PM, you could already be drifting off to sleep, lulled by the sound of the stream outside. But Niki had other plans. Let’s just say he forgot to mention one tiny detail: he suffered from insomnia. Watching you fall asleep in five minutes flat had thrown him off because he was a night owl. He’d stay awake until 2 AM, whistling, spinning his phone between his fingers, or sketching with the music blasting. You’d politely suggested he could stay outside there were comfy puff chairs or even a hammock but he’d just smirked and said, "No thanks, I’d rather not get eaten by a bear."
And then there was the issue of tidiness. The word "order" didn’t exist in Niki’s vocabulary or maybe it did, but he took great pleasure in driving you insane. You weren’t a neat freak, but you at least tried not to turn the room into a refugee camp. The bungalow wasn’t huge just a wooden entrance table, a cushioned bench with big windows overlooking the clearing, a tiny sitting area, and an open space with your two beds and a bathroom (which, admittedly, was bigger than necessary, and you weren’t complaining about that).
Niki, on the other hand, scattered his oversized hoodies everywhere like he was marking his territory. And don’t even get started on his razors left on the sink. "For the two stray hairs on your face, you could at least put them away!" you’d yelled one morning, but he’d just flashed that infuriating smirk while shaving his cheek.
But the final straw was the ID card prank. Every counselor had to carry theirs to access camp areas, and one morning, yours had vanished—poof, like magic. You were in full-blown panic, tearing the place apart: under the bed, between books, in the bathroom, under the bench. Then Niki leaned against the doorframe, watching you huff and mutter, that annoying smile playing on his lips.
"Looking for this, Princess?" he asked, dangling the ID card from his index finger.
You lunged to grab it, but he lifted his arm, using all of his 195 centimeters to keep it out of reach. You glared as you hopped uselessly, trying to snatch it.
"You know," he murmured, letting you nearly collide with his chest as you jumped, "you should keep it somewhere safer… maybe pinned right here…" He tapped the neckline of your tank top with the edge of the card, watching your cheeks flush pink. He’d discovered he loved seeing your round cheeks turn every shade of red, and without another word, he draped it around your neck, letting it fall against your chest. Then he winked and disappeared into the kitchen.
But the incident that truly made you snap happened one late afternoon. You’d just returned to the bungalow after an exhausting day of supervising dozens of kids screaming on the lake’s inflatables, your hair a disaster and your legs shaking with fatigue. Without a care in the world, you flung the door open, only to freeze.
Sitting on Niki’s bed was a girl, one of the sports group counselors, laughing hysterically at something he’d said. She was practically straddling him. You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly popped out, your face turning as red as a bell pepper—not from embarrassment, but from pure, unadulterated rage. You shot the girl a look that could’ve killed a grizzly bear.
When Niki gestured for her to leave like she’d never been there, you pointed a finger at him and snapped:
"It’s incredibly disrespectful to bring random people into our bungalow, especially at this hour when you know I come back exhausted! I’m seriously tired, I just want to shower and sleep, and instead, I walk in to find you doing… who knows what with that girl!" You crossed your arms, glaring, and Niki pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at how furious you were. He sat up, running a hand through his blond hair, and looked at you with an amused grin.
"What’s wrong, Shorty? You’re not… jealous, are you? I didn’t know the mayor’s daughter cared so much about my free time."
You shot him your worst glare. "Jealous? Of you?!" you scoffed, pointing at him. "Right now, I’m furious, not jealous! If you’re going to bring girls in here whenever you feel like it, then starting tomorrow, I’ll bring a guy in too, no, I’ll bring a different one every night!" You gestured to the bungalow, and Niki stiffened instantly. His jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscles in his neck tighten, and his gaze darkened, almost dangerous but only for a second. The next moment, he burst into laughter, flopping backward onto the bed.
"Why the hell are you laughing?!" you demanded, even angrier, but he just stretched out, taking up the entire bed with his endless legs, and looked at you with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.
"Oh, this is rich! The girl with the braids—who I’m pretty sure has never been kissed in her life—wants to bring some random guy into our room! Go ahead, Y/n, you wouldn’t even know where to start."
Your cheeks burned a shade of red you’d never experienced before. Jabbing a finger at him, you hissed, "You don’t know the first thing about me, Niki!" Your voice trembled with indignation. You grabbed your robe and toiletries and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard the wooden walls of the bungalow shook.
Under the shower’s spray, you cursed him in every language you knew. But deep in your chest, your heart refused to calm down and you weren’t sure if it was from the insult or the way he’d looked at you when you’d mentioned bringing another guy in.
That morning, the soft Montana dawn light filtered through the curtains, bringing with it the usual chorus of birds and the steady murmur of the stream just a few meters from your bungalow. You would have given half your counselor’s salary to stay under the blankets for another ten minutes or maybe the whole morning because as a kid, you never truly realized how much work animators had behind the scenes. But duty called, and that week, you’d been assigned to fabric painting at 9:15 AM. So, with a lazy groan, you sat up, and just like every single morning since this nightmare began the first thing your eyes focused on was the occupant of the bed beside you.
Your gaze landed on Niki, a tangle of icy blond hair and heavy sighs. You noticed how his hair was slowly growing out, the dark roots of his natural color peeking through. His lips were slightly pouty in sleep, and he clutched the pillow beneath him like he was afraid someone might steal it. His thick eyebrows, usually furrowed in annoyance, were finally relaxed, making him look almost… innocent. Just a boy too big for a bed too small.
You knew he also had fishing duty at 9:15 AM, but after a week of stolen ID cards and jokes about how you embodied the "good girl" ideal, you decided your "act of kindness" would be letting him sleep. A wicked little smirk tugged at your lips as you thought, I could let him sleep… so he doesn’t wake up in time for the start of activities. You reached out to shake his shoulder but then stopped yourself. With a quiet chuckle, you muttered under your breath as you closed yourself in the bathroom, "Let him be late."
And so, you began your skincare ritual: slathering on pounds of sunscreen (because your skin had to stay flawless, even if you were going to sweat or get thrown into the water), adding a touch of self-tanner (since you still hadn’t achieved the exact shade of tan you wanted), and then pulling on your swimsuit, a T-shirt, athletic shorts, and braiding your hair as you finished, you noticed a stack of Post-its leaning against the mirror. You grabbed the pad and started decorating the bathroom mirror like it was a Christmas tree of warnings.
Green Post-it: I DON’T KNOW WHAT WORLD YOU LIVE IN, NIKI, BUT THERE’S SOMETHING CALLED A CLOSET FOR A REASON -> PUT YOUR HOODES IN THERE (Otherwise, the one on my chair is about to become a mop for the floor, and I don’t think you’d like that—especially since I know some of your hoodies cost as much as two months of our salary).
Blue Post-it: STOP PLAYING THOSE WAR GAMES AT 2 AM. Some people need to dream about things other than explosions and actually sleep peacefully. Try unplugging from those electronic gadgets and falling asleep to the sound of the stream and night crickets.
Yellow Post-it: TRY NOT TO USE MY SAKURA BODY WASH! I don’t think the scent of cherry blossoms helps your bad-boy reputation. What will the other girls think when they smell you reeking of girliness? They’ll just get even more jealous of me…
Orange Post-it: RAZORS HAVE A HOME. IT’S CALLED A ‘PERSONAL CABINET,’ NOT A ‘BATHROOM SINK DECORATION. Also, you’ve got, like, two stray hairs max, stop acting like you’re grooming a lion’s mane."
Pink Post-it: If you feel like breaking the next girl’s heart, don’t bring her into our room. I’d rather not see another girl leaving in tears because of you!
You checked the time: 8:15 AM. Niki hadn’t moved a millimeter, lost in a deep sleep that made him look almost… innocent. Almost, obviously. You grabbed the last Post-it before heading to breakfast and stuck it on the exit door. In your neat but determined handwriting, you wrote:
Oops, looks like your human alarm clock had a technical malfunction this morning or maybe just ‘forgot’ to share her air with you. Hope those five hours of sleep (well, six now) were enough, since you spend your nights doing everything but sleeping. I let you sleep, obviously, because I care’ and not at all because I wanted you to be late… (nope, not at all). Consider this my ‘welcome gift’… or maybe just proof that I can play dirty too, Niki. See you at the lake—if you can keep your eyes open and make it to roll call on time:)
Your favorite roommate:)
Niki was about to explode. He’d grown up with two other girls his age, and sure, there had been disagreements and fights, but you? You outdid them both. When his eyes finally opened and focused on the clock, his first thought wasn’t panic over being late it was a name spat like a curse between his teeth: "Y/n."
When he turned to see if you were still there, he found your bed perfectly made and rolled his eyes. He dragged himself out of bed, cursing you in every language he knew, because you two had an agreement or rather, you had established the rules, and he had grunted in assent, that you’d wake each other up but no, today you’d had the brilliant idea of leaving without calling him. And now, with twenty minutes until activities started, he was still in his boxers, his hair a wild mess.
He stumbled into the bathroom, tripping over one of his own hoodies left on the floor, only to find himself facing an explosion of colorful Post-its on the mirror. He grumbled under his breath as he splashed water on his face.
"She seriously took the time to write out all these stupid rules instead of waking me up?" he muttered through a mouthful of toothpaste foam, glaring at the green Post-it.
"Put away your hoodies… use my body wash… but look at this one..." he said, mimicking your voice and grabbing a cookie from the table while frantically searching for his ID card. The taste of chocolate clashed violently with the minty toothpaste, creating a disgusting mix, and he wondered how Sunoo, one of his best friends could stand that contrast.
Just as he was about to leave, he spotted the last Post-it on the door and read it twice, the cookie still between his teeth: "Because I ‘care’ and not at all because I wanted you to be late… (nope, not at all)."
Niki blinked, then let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a growl and an incredulous laugh.
"‘I care,’ huh?" he muttered to himself, glaring at the yellow paper. "You’re such a little liar, Shorty. You left me to rot in bed so that you could enjoy the show of me running around like an idiot."
He grabbed his ID card, adjusting his cowboy hat with a sharp motion, but his movements were less furious than before. There was a strange electricity humming under his skin. Obviously, that Post-it was a provocation of course it was but it was also glaring proof that the mayor’s daughter, the so-called "untouchable" girl, wasn’t just putting up with his presence. She was studying him. She knew how many hours he slept, that he played video games until 2 AM, and even that he used your body wash. She was paying way too much attention to him.
With a small smirk lighting up his gaze, he tucked the Post-it behind his phone case. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing it, but the idea of carrying a little piece of your neat handwriting with him appealed to him more than he wanted to admit.
And with that, he rushed off to the little ones’ fishing activity, fully intending to drive you just as crazy that day.
The weekend had finally arrived, and the atmosphere at Camp Montana had shifted. While most of the counselors were loading up their cars to escape to the nearest town, searching for parties, cocktails, or luxury hotel retreats to unwind, you had very different plans. The wildlife trail started just a 10-minute walk from the camp’s parking lot, and you were looking forward to two hours of hiking, surrounded by the scent of hay, sun-warmed trees, and the sun beating down on your skin. But what you were really looking forward to was a hearty plate of melted cheese with sausage and mushrooms, topped off with a wild berry panna cotta the meal you’d been dreaming about for days.
That night, you’d gone to bed more excited than usual, simply because you couldn’t wait to spend a day completely free of Niki. When you woke at dawn, the sky was still painted in soft violet hues, and the first birds were beginning to chirp. You stretched, instinctively turning toward Niki’s bed, expecting to see the usual tangle of blond hair and blankets strewn in every direction. But to your surprise, the bed was empty. Your heart gave a little leap, it was the first time you didn’t have to deal with his impossible schedule. That is, until you heard the water running.
You made a slightly confused face and thought to yourself, It’s seven in the morning, and he’s already up? Where is that guy even going? I hope he’s not up to something stupid.
With those questions swirling in your mind, you headed to the kitchen to make coffee, watching as the first rays of sunlight set the mountain peaks ablaze. A few moments later, Niki emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp and tousled. He was wearing a faded ‘80s band T-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, baggy jeans, and sturdy hiking boots. He pulled his New Yorker cap on backward, and you had to admit, reluctantly that his style was growing on you. Maybe even a little too much. You quickly looked away.
"Where are you going?" you asked, clutching your coffee mug like a shield. Niki reached out, snatching a cookie from the table, and took a bite with casual indifference.
"Hiking with you and your little friends," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. You closed your eyes, certain he was joking. When you opened them again, you nearly spilled your coffee into the sink, coughing in surprise.
"Wait, what? You...you’re coming with us? Into the woods? For hours?" You tried to talk him out of it. "I don’t think that’s your ideal habitat."
Niki shrugged, shooting you an amused glance from under the brim of his cap. "What? Surprised? I can walk like a normal person, Shorty. And I can adapt to any natural habitat..especially when you’re there." He winked at you, and you opened your mouth to retort, but no words came out.
"So… you’re telling me you’re coming with us? You’re actually waiting for me?"
He nodded, picking up the mug you’d only taken a sip from and downing the rest of your coffee. "Yeah, just don’t take an hour to get ready." He stepped outside onto the porch, and the word "ready" made your cheeks burn. You didn’t need to be told twice. You rushed to the bathroom, washing your face at lightning speed and braiding your hair into your usual neat plaits. You threw on a ribbed tank top with faded rainbow stripes that gave you a fresh, lively look, a pair of comfortable jeans that ended just above your knees, your hiking boots, and your New Yorker cap. When you stepped outside, grab your backpack and camera, you found Niki lounging on the porch hammock. The moment you appeared, he lifted his gaze and looked you up and down. For a second, his usual smirk faded, replaced by an unreadable expression. Without meaning to, he inhaled, catching the faint scent of your sakura-scented body wash, your signature fragrance in the bungalow and, apparently, his favorite in just a few weeks. With a fluid motion, he hopped off the hammock, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and gestured toward the trail.
You walked in silence to the meeting point, but it was a different kind of silence. Neither of you teased or provoked the other. For once, there was no war between you...
When Lia saw you both approaching, her eyes widened. Okay, sure, you’d told the whole camp that anyone who wanted to join the hike was welcome, but she hadn’t expected to see you arrive with Niki. She rushed over, linking her arm through yours and pulling you a step forward to whisper in your ear:
"And what is he doing here? He’s complained every day about not being able to sleep, and now that he has two whole days to catch up, he’s coming on a hike?"
"He decided to come hiking with us," you replied with a shrug, trying to sound indifferent while feeling Niki’s gaze burning into the back of your neck.
Lia turned to study him properly. Niki was leaning against a tree with effortless ease, observing the forest as if he’d known it his whole life. She was skeptical, she knew a guy like him wouldn’t choose a flat trail and a refuge lunch unless there was a more... personal reason. She looked at you, then at him, and a small, knowing smile spread across her face. Deep down, she already understood what was brewing between you, though she decided not to say anything, she didn’t want to make your cheeks burn any brighter. She couldn’t wait to see how your days together would unfold.
The crisp Montana air was like a jolt of pure energy, invigorating you with every breath. You took long, deep inhales, savoring the sweet sensation of fresh, clean air filling your lungs. You loved walking along the flat trail, surrounded by greenery, the sound of babbling brooks, and the occasional sight of cows grazing in the distance. Every few minutes, people would wave and wish you a good day, making you feel right at home, because deep down, you’d always loved spending time outdoors, and your years at summer camp had only deepened that love for nature.
You and Lia led the group with confidence, knowing every rock and turn of the path by heart after years of hiking it together. Each time, you’d discover something new, something you’d missed the year before. But every time you raised your camera to capture a snow-capped peak, a wildflower, or one of Lia’s funny faces, the lens somehow ended up framing Niki instead. He walked with an effortless swagger, earbuds in, his gaze shifting between the mountain peaks and your figure just a few meters ahead.
It was odd to wear earbuds when you could hear the birds, the cows, the rushing water but by now, you’d grown used to Niki’s quirks. If it made him comfortable, you weren’t about to say anything.
Niki took in the landscape, and it wasn’t half bad—though he’d never admit it out loud. He was a Chicago guy, used to 2 a.m. outings because he couldn’t sleep, extreme sports, and pure adrenaline. The quiet of nature usually bored him to death, but the thought of staying in the empty bungalow without your indignant glares and quick comebacks had convinced him that maybe a hike wasn’t so terrible. He liked watching you—how you were kind to everyone, sunny, the way people gravitated toward you because you gave off the vibe of someone everyone wanted to be around. But with him, you were the exact opposite, fiery, ready to snap the second he opened his mouth to tease you. That contrast was getting under his skin, and it annoyed him more than he cared to admit. It hadn’t even been a month since you’d started sharing your lives, and yet his eyes sought you out everywhere. He hated the effect you had on him.
At one point, the group stopped because a small stream had flooded the trail, creating a muddy, slippery passage. The guys in the group started playing the chivalrous heroes, helping the others cross. Niki quickened his pace until he was right behind you, his warm breath brushing against your earlobe, carrying the scent of mint and something spicy.
"Wren, let me go first," he murmured in that rough voice that sent a shiver down your spine. "Halfway through, I’ll grab your hand and pull you across." He smirked, and when he saw you startle at his sudden closeness, he chuckled. You whipped around, and your faces were inches apart, your cheeks flaming at the unexpected proximity.
"Thanks, but I can manage on my own," you said, proud. "Do you know how many times I’ve hiked this trail? A little water isn’t going to stop me."
He stepped aside with a dramatic flourish, gesturing for you to go ahead. You tried to proceed with dignity, and for a while, it went fine—until you reached a slippery, unstable rock. Panic set in. You hadn’t brought extra clothes or spare shoes, and the thought of ending up soaked in front of everyone—especially him—was a humiliation you couldn’t afford. You heard the others urging you to hurry, a small crowd forming behind you. You closed your eyes, swallowed your pride, and said:
"Niki… could you come to the middle and then go ahead? That way, you can grab my hand and pull me across?"
His smirk widened, lighting up his blond features—he had bet on you needing his help eventually. "Oh, so now you really get that you need me, wren?"
"Please, spare me the Montana hero speech and move that giant body of yours before I throw a rock at your head!" you snapped, trying to hide your embarrassment. You were stuck in the middle of the stream, and everyone was watching but you only cared about the gaze of one person in particular. He didn’t need to be told twice. With an effortless leap, he landed on the stable rock beside you, gesturing for you to hand over your backpack. Then, with infuriating ease, he launched himself toward the grassy bank, landing perfectly dry.
A moment later, he turned and reached his arm out to you. It was long, solid, veins standing out on the back of his hand, adorned with small silver rings. You wobbled slightly toward the water, and he stepped forward to catch you.
"Jump, Y/N. I’ve got you, you won’t fall," he said, rising onto his toes to get closer. You took a deep breath and leaped without thinking. His large, warm hands instantly closed around your waist, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. For an endless moment, you were pressed against his chest, feeling the heat of his body against yours. His minty, musky scent overwhelmed your senses, making you forget where you were. Without meaning to, you nestled closer to him. After a moment, you looked up and found his face just centimeters from yours, that victorious smirk still playing on his lips as he enjoyed the fact that everyone was staring.
"Thanks," you whispered, your cheeks burning as he set you down with maddening slowness. You tucked some loose strands of hair behind your ears, and Niki saw how utterly flustered you were. He found it ridiculously cute but didn’t say a word. Instead, he watched as you grabbed your backpack and hurried to catch up with Lia, who was barely containing a sarcastic comment about what had just happened. You shot her such a fierce look that she immediately raised her hands in surrender.
"Okay, okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut!" she said, laughing.
The trail leading to the refuge was a relentless uphill climb that seemed to never end, but the view waiting at the top made every drop of sweat worth it. Every time you hiked that path and reached the summit, the scenery was breathtaking. When you finally caught sight of the wooden cabin with its umbrellas and lounge chairs neatly lined up along the meadow, a chorus of relieved sighs rose from the group everyone was utterly exhausted.
You and Lia, without needing to say a word, quickened your pace—though maybe that wasn’t the best idea, since it left the others behind and your legs started aching but the moment you stepped inside the refuge, the smell of freshly cooked food wrapped around you, and your stomachs growled in response.
In front of the entrance, a menu written on a chalkboard made your mouths water: melted cheese with sausage and mushrooms, beef stew with potatoes, hot sausage sandwiches with various sides but it was the dessert list that made you both grin: panna cotta with berries, Sacher cake, strudel. You and Lia exchanged a look of pure complicity—you couldn’t wait to dig into those homemade sweets.
"Oh my God, I’m about to die from happiness," you said at the sight of so many treats, and Lia sighed at the sight of a waitress carrying a perfect slice of Sacher cake, already imagining the first bite of that heavenly dessert.
You dropped your backpacks onto a long wooden table, and while the others settled in, you couldn’t resist unbuttoning the first two buttons of your blouse, you wanted to soak up as much sun as possible and relax. You put on your sunglasses and stretched out on a lounge chair like a cat basking in the sun. Lia did the same, but unlike you, Lia was a first-class chatterbox and didn’t stop talking for a second:
"Damn, Y/n, look at Niki," she said, nodding toward the shade of the refuge. "He seriously hates the sun. How can he just sit there in the shade, sulking with that little notebook of his, drawing or writing who knows what, when he could be out here soaking up some sun and relaxing by the stream like normal people?"
You turned slightly and, sure enough, saw Niki leaning against the refuge wall, legs crossed, notebook on his knees, and a scowl that, for some reason, made a stupid little smile tug at your lips. You quickly shook your head.
Since when did you find him cute? you thought. He was everything you shouldn’t want in your life....especially that annoying pout of his, the way he ignored the world around him.
"Good thing he’s over there by himself instead of coming to ruin my free day too," you replied, trying to sound indifferent. Lia chuckled, noticing how you’d glanced at him.
"You know, it’s weird that, purely by coincidence, he ended up coming on this hike with us too. I think he came because…"
You pushed your sunglasses up and shot her a glare. She immediately clamped her mouth shut and raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, we won’t talk about you and him...well, we won’t talk about him at all, Y/n. Just today. I’ll put my headphones in and listen to a podcast or some music for an hour while we enjoy the fresh air and sunshine."
You nodded, but before sliding your sunglasses back down, you couldn’t resist sneaking another look at Niki. He was completely absorbed in sketching, his pencil moving swiftly across the page, his brow slightly furrowed. As if sensing the weight of your gaze, he looked up, and your eyes met. You immediately lowered your sunglasses and pretended to look around before lying back down on the lounge chair, but you could feel your cheeks burning.
Damn it… He always caught you looking at him. Every single time.
On the other side, Niki lowered his gaze back to his notebook, a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at his lips. For the first time in a long while, there was a real person in his sketches, he’d been drawing the mountains, quick strokes and shading, but there was also the profile of a girl with braids taking photos by a stream and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
Lunch at the refuge had been devoured in the blink of an eye—everyone had grabbed food and shared it among laughter and old mountain stories meant to scare the group. But the peace lasted only until dessert arrived. When the waitress placed that slice of warm strudel in front of you, crispy pastry, vanilla ice cream already melting into a delicious cream, you thought you’d died and gone to heaven. You’d been dreaming of that slice for ages, but you hadn’t accounted for Niki’s presence. Without a word, he stretched his fork toward your dessert and, with zero hesitation, broke off half your slice.
"Hey! That’s my cake!" you exclaimed, eyes wide, as Niki didn’t even bother looking at you. With a little smirk, he broke off another piece, and you, furious, jammed your fork between the tines of his to block him. He finally lifted his gaze, those expressive eyes locking onto yours.
"This is my cake, Niki. You have your yogurt, which is probably just as sour as you are," you hissed, aware that half the table was snickering at your little scene.
"Everyone said we should share," he countered, "and I’ll share mine with your dessert." He gestured to your strudel, and you snapped:
"Well, I’d never trade my cake for yogurt I could get in the camp cafeteria!"
Before you could finish, he swooped in with lightning speed, bringing a piece of strudel to his mouth. You opened your lips to protest, but the sound died in your throat as Niki closed his eyes and let out a low, guttural moan, almost like a purr of satisfaction, that made your stomach flutter. He brought a finger to his lips to wipe away a trail of vanilla ice cream, and in that moment, you felt your ears burning.
"Mmm… I get why you don’t want to share," he said, his gaze lingering on your lips a second too long. "It’s delicious. I’ll have another bite." He leaned even closer to your plate, and you snapped:
"Forget it!" You clutched the plate to your chest like it was your most precious treasure, and he kept talking:
"Come on, Y/n, share a little. Don’t be a baby," he teased, and Lia, beside you, burst out laughing.
"You two are like an old married couple fighting over the remote. Y/N, just give him a piece—you know he’ll win anyway."
You shot her a glare. "You’re supposed to be on my side, Lia!" you grumbled, finishing your slice in quick bites while glaring daggers at Niki, who returned to his "boring" yogurt with berries. Halfway through, he held out the spoon with some fruit, but you shook your head proudly. Niki thought you were seriously acting like a child—a little pouty, a little stubborn—but that angry pout of yours made him feel things he shouldn’t, and he noticed how your eyes never left him, even if your glare was murderous.
After eating, the group split up, some hiked higher, while Niki, against all expectations, flopped onto a lounge chair in the sun. By 5 PM, when the air started cooling, Lia and the others approached you.
"We’re heading back, Y/n. Coming?" she asked.
You glanced at Niki, fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. It was strange: back at the bungalow, he fought insomnia until 2 AM, but here, on an uncomfortable wooden lounge chair, he looked like an angel (maybe a fallen one), wrestling with his demons. Without realizing it, you said:
"I’ll stay another half hour. We share the bungalow—I’ll make this sacrifice and head down with him."
Lia looked slightly surprised and glanced at the dark clouds gathering over the peaks. "Okay, but don’t take too long, the weather here changes in a heartbeat. Text me when you get back to camp."
You nodded and sat beside him, trying to focus on The Mistake by Elle Kennedy, but the words danced on the page. You’d been stuck on the same page for 10 minutes. When only a few people remained, you stood up and poked his back with a finger.
"Niki, stop sleeping. We need to go down," you said, but there was no response, you realized he had headphones in. You yanked them out with a sharp motion, cutting off the music.
"Niki Nishimura! We have to go back! You can sleep at the bungalow!"
He opened his eyes slowly and saw your braids swaying inches from his face. He let out a lazy, warm chuckle, and you huffed.
"What’s so funny? It’s past five, and it’s about to rain!"
Instead of answering, Niki reached out and tugged lightly on one of your braids, twirling it around his fingers with a familiarity that stole your breath...only your family ever played with your hair like that. You slapped his hand away.
"Are you crazy? Don’t touch my hair again, and let’s go—look what’s coming over the mountains!" You pointed to the dark clouds forming, and he sighed, stretching like a cat. In the movement, his ’80s band T-shirt rode up, and your eyes widened, right there, on his V-line, was a tattoo… red lips? They looked perfect, inked in such a scandalous spot that it made your head spin. Whose lips were those?
You shook your head, heat flooding your face. Grabbing your backpack, you spun around and jabbed a finger at him. "I’m not waiting for you anymore! Everyone else left an hour ago, and if you want to stay here and get struck by lightning, be my guest—because I’ve already been too nice waiting for you, and I don’t even know why!"
You stormed off, heart pounding at the memory of that tattooed skin shaped like lips, but after a few minutes, a familiar shadow fell over you. You turned and saw Niki, less than two steps behind, hair tousled, backpack slung over his shoulder, and that usual scowl etched on his face. You rolled your eyes, but deep down, the fact that he hadn’t left you alone sent a strange, annoying twist in your stomach. You nearly stopped in your tracks, and he said:
"Walk, wren," he murmured, brushing past you, leaving the scent of mint in the air. "Or I’ll have to fish you out of the mud when it starts raining!"
You hated Niki Nishimura with every fiber of your being, or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as the rain poured down, turning the Montana trail into a slippery, muddy mess. And for once, Niki had been right. Just minutes earlier, he’d said, "I’ll have to fish you out of the mud,"—and now, his words had become reality. You wanted to scream and kill him at the same time. The storm had only been raging for five minutes, but the water was already cascading down in sheets, and you clutched your backpack over your head in a desperate, useless attempt to stay dry. Meanwhile, you were seething—at yourself for not leaving with the others, at Niki for walking with an infuriating calm, as if he actually enjoyed this situation.
You shot him glowering looks until a deafening crack split the sky, thunder roaring through the mountains. You froze, paralyzed by the ominous sound. Everyone—your father, every camp instructor—had always drilled into you: "Never stay near trees during a mountain storm." And here you were, smack in the middle of a giant forest, your heart pounding with fear—for yourself, for Niki, for the fact that something terrible could happen to either of you.
Niki, realizing you’d stopped, whirled around. His usual bored expression vanished in an instant when he saw you—motionless, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders trembling. In three long strides, he was at your side.
"Why did you stop? We need to move!" he shouted over the rain, but you just stared at him, wide-eyed, hair plastered to your face.
"We’re going to get struck by lightning, Niki! It’s your fault! We’re still over an hour from camp, and we’re in the middle of nowhere!" you panicked. Another thunderclap, even closer, made the ground tremble. Before you could say another word, you felt Niki’s large, warm hand grab yours, and there was no time to protest—he started running, dragging you along in a frantic sprint through the downpour. You had to match his pace, even though you weren’t used to it.
"Do you even know where the hell you’re going?!" you yelled, but Niki didn’t answer. At the fork that led back to the summer camp, you watched in horror as he suddenly veered left.
"Are you SERIOUSLY going left?! The camp is to the RIGHT! Niki, I swear if I die because of you, my ghost will haunt you for the rest of your EXISTENCE—no, for ETERNITY!" you screamed. But instead of panicking, Niki burst out laughing a liberating, wild laugh, the kind of someone who hadn’t felt this alive and free in years, far from Chicago’s underground races and his parents’ problems. When he finally spotted an old abandoned barn between the trees, he pointed at it with a sharp gesture. As you stumbled inside, you were furious and immediately yanked your hand away as if it burned.
"I can’t believe this… How unlucky can I be? Why didn’t I just go down with Lia and the others? Why did I have the brilliant idea of waiting for you?!" you ranted, shivering from the cold. Niki shook the water from his hair like a wet dog and looked down at you—you seemed even smaller and more vulnerable, soaked and trembling.
"You should be thanking me, actually," he said with a vague gesture. "We’re safe, under a roof that’s protecting us from killer lightning and the storm."
You raised an eyebrow. "Thank you? For what, exactly?"
He huffed, stepping dangerously close to you. "Because you didn’t even know this shack existed. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be out there, frozen like a statue in the dark, drenched, and panicking in the storm. But hey, no problem, Y/n." He smirked, and you opened your mouth to retort but another flash of lightning lit up the sky outside, followed by thunder that seemed to shake the barn’s foundations. You shuddered violently, and before you even realized it, you stepped closer to him, seeking protection—though you were still seething.
"It’s all my fault…" you murmured, voice trembling. "I should’ve gone down with the others and left you there sleeping on the lounge chair. Now we’re stuck here all night? No, I’m NOT spending the night in here! What if a wolf comes in? Or a bear and eats us both? Or the roof collapses...."
But before you could finish, your words were cut off by Niki’s lips crashing against yours. You froze, stunned by the unexpected softness of his mouth. Your thoughts spiraled:
What is he doing? Is he actually kissing me? Should I pull away? Will it be awkward? Will he realize it’s my first kiss?
But every doubt vanished when you felt his lips part slightly, inviting you to respond. This kiss was nothing like you’d imagined—not the rough, aggressive kind you’d expect from a guy like him, always surrounded by girls. Instead, there was an unexpected sweetness that stole your breath as his lips gently coaxed yours open. Your hands acted on their own—one fisted his soaked T-shirt, feeling the heat of his chest, while the other rested on his solid shoulder. You parted your lips further, letting him deepen the kiss, and you sighed into it, tasting the lingering vanilla ice cream mixed with the mint of his breath. Niki let out a low, satisfied hum against your mouth, his lips lightly sucking your lower lip, a barely-there smirk forming between you—as if he knew he’d finally shut you up.
But then reality hit like a slap. You jerked back, pressing a trembling hand to your mouth, your heart pounding in your throat.
Niki had just stolen your first kiss...your very first kiss.
He stood still, towering over you with wet hair falling onto his forehead, watching you with a small smirk—finally, he’d managed to shut you up.
"You…" you whispered, pointing at him with a trembling finger. "Why did you kiss me?" you shrieked, shocked. Niki just shrugged with an infuriating nonchalance.
"I wanted to shut you up somehow, and I figured kissing you was the quickest way. That’s all… You were rambling too much, Y/n, and I hate people who talk too much."
Your cheeks burned, and you didn’t know whether to slap him or kiss him again. You opened your mouth to unleash a string of insults, to tell him how arrogant and presumptuous he was, but the words died in your throat. With a smooth, unembarrassed motion, Niki pulled off his soaked shirt, leaving you frozen, your eyes glued to his body—sculpted like marble, dark lines of tattoos snaking across his skin in designs you couldn’t quite decipher. But your gaze inevitably dropped lower, to that defined V-line disappearing into his wet jeans, to that lip-shaped tattoo that seemed both scandalous and sexy. Your cheeks flared with heat, and you snapped your eyes downward, pretending sudden interest in the muddy tips of your shoes.
Meanwhile, Niki pulled out a gray long-sleeved shirt from his backpack too thin for the dropping temperature—then a thick, carefully folded gray hoodie. You assumed it was for him, but instead, he stepped closer. Seeing you speechless for once, he teased with a chuckle:
"Damn, if kissing you or showing off my tattoos is what it takes to shut you up, I should’ve done it ages ago back at the bungalow. You never stop talking from morning to night!" he said with an annoying smirk.
"You’re an idiot!" you snapped, giving him a little shove, but he didn’t budge an inch. Instead, he draped his hoodie over your shoulders.
"Take off that blouse and put this on," he ordered, his gaze suddenly serious as he watched you shiver. "At least you’ll stay warm and won’t freeze to death before we get back to camp, otherwise, you’ll have a fever of 40 tomorrow."His eyes lingered on you, and you wanted to strangle him, but your chattering teeth wouldn’t let you play tough. The hoodie was soft, plush inside, and you nodded, but first, you muttered:
"Turn around. I need to change."
Niki shot you a challenging look that lasted a couple of seconds, then sighed and turned his back.
"Don’t you dare turn around, Niki, seriously, or..."
He burst out laughing, a low chuckle echoing against the wooden walls. "Or what, wren? You’ll kiss me this time?"
You wanted to scream, but while he kept teasing you, you moved fast as lightning, peeling off your soaked blouse that clung to your skin like ice. You slipped into his hoodie....massive, the sleeves swallowing your hands completely, the hem falling to mid-thigh but the worst… or best part? The smell. It was intensely him: peppermint and something spicy, and without thinking, you buried your face in the high collar, inhaling his scent.
Niki turned slowly, expecting you to be done but when he saw you drowned in his clothes, your nose pressed into the fabric as you sought his scent, he froze. His mind raced: You looked so small in his hoodie, like it was made for you. And he hated how good you looked in his clothes, it drove him crazy. You were the classic "good girl" who should’ve stayed far away from someone like him… and yet, at the same time, he wanted to break you, make you his, just to prove to the world that even good girls needed a guy like him.
You realized he was staring at you longer than usual, and you whispered, "Thanks."
Niki raised an eyebrow, surprised by your response. "Whoa, I should mark this day on the calendar! The Princess actually said thank you without a judge forcing her!" he teased, chuckling. You rolled your eyes, trying to reclaim some dignity.
"You should thank me," you said, puffing up slightly as you clutched the long sleeves against your chest. He crossed his arms, amused by your answer.
"Oh? And what exactly should I thank you for?"
"For waiting for you!" you replied proudly. "Otherwise, you’d still be here asleep on that lounge chair in the middle of the storm." You shot him a glare, and Niki smirked, running a hand through his damp, icy-blond hair. He didn’t thank you with words, but his gaze softened for a moment before he turned toward a wooden ladder leading to the upper level of the barn, where dry hay awaited.
You walked to the heavy door, slamming it shut to block out the howling wind. Meanwhile, Niki tested the sturdiness of the ladder rungs with a sharp tug. The old wood groaned slightly, but he figured it could hold your combined weight. He climbed first, and when he reached the top, he found a small loft filled with the sweet scent of freshly gathered hay—soft enough to lie down on. There were even old burlap sacks stuffed with raw wool serving as makeshift pillows. It wasn’t luxury, but compared to the mud and rain outside, it felt like paradise.
"Wren, we can stretch out up here until the storm passes," he called, leaning over the edge as he watched you climb. Niki unconsciously bit his lower lip, his hoodie nearly swallowed you whole, your usually neat braids half-undone and messy, your lips still slightly swollen and trembling from the earlier kiss. For a microsecond, he thought you looked cute before shaking his head to banish the dangerous thought.
The space up there was cramped, so you kicked off your shoes, mimicking his movement, and knelt on the hay, trying to ignore how your legs brushed against his. You looked around, careful not to let your eyes linger too often on his face or his body.
"They’re definitely looking for us," you murmured, trying to reassure yourself as the wind howled through the cracks in the roof. "The camp director and all the counselors must have already sent out search parties. They’ll find us soon." You watched the sky grow darker, lit only by the flashes of thunder that made the entire structure tremble. Without thinking, you scooted closer to Niki, who was already half-reclined, a strand of hay caught between his lips, lazily shifting it with his tongue.
"I bet they’re worried about you, wren, not me," he said with a hint of cynicism, his intense gaze fixed on you. "You’re everyone’s favorite at camp—the perfect girl who never breaks the rules and I’m just… me." His eyes drifted to a fixed point in the barn.
"That’s not true," you countered, pulling your legs against your chest and burying your chin in the collar of his hoodie. "I bet all the girls who flock around you, the ones who sigh when you walk by and gossip about you—they’re all worried about you!"
Niki propped himself up on an elbow, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he detected the sarcastic edge—and maybe a hint of irritation—in your voice.
"Mmm, someone’s jealous, or maybe..."
You didn’t let him finish, swatting his arm playfully. "Stop it!" you snapped, glaring at him. He chuckled at your flushed cheeks, and another thunderclap tore through the sky, so loud it felt like it exploded right above you. You visibly shuddered, inching even closer to him.
"Are you scared of thunder, or are you just cold, Shorty?" he asked, looking at you almost protectively. You sighed, feeling a little pressured by his gaze.
"Don’t make fun of me, but… both. I was stupid not to bring a change of clothes like you did, and thank God you gave me your hoodie even if I know you’re cold too right now."
Niki murmured that you were perceptive, and you closed your eyes, feeling exhaustion and the chill in your bones as you tried to relax a little.
"Look, I know you don’t like physical contact, and you can’t stand me and trust me, the feeling is mutual but we’re human, right? Maybe we could… I don’t know, keep each other warm." You blurted out what you were thinking, though you might have phrased it poorly, because Niki’s eyes shot open, almost shocked. He nearly choked on his own saliva at what you’d just said.
"You know what you just said sounds really bad, right, Y/n? When a girl asks a guy to ‘keep her warm’… we tend to think of things that are a little more intimate than just sharing a blanket." He laughed, teasing you, and you immediately covered your face with your hands, feeling your cheeks burn.
"Oh my God, no! That’s not what I meant! This is so embarrassing! I gave my first kiss to a guy I can’t stand, I’m trapped in a falling-apart barn, I’m freezing to death, and..."
Before you could finish, Niki’s strong arms wrapped around you with a determination that brooked no argument, pulling you against his chest. Without meaning to, you nestled against him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, your hands instinctively resting over his heart. For a moment, you froze, feeling it beating fast—too fast for someone who pretended to be so calm.
Niki stayed still for a few seconds, his breath catching in his throat. He was the guy everyone had warned you to stay away from—the one who had been the first to brush against those lips that tasted of vanilla and far too much innocence. He could imagine it, really, how it had been your first kiss, from the way you’d hesitated, from the sweet, uncertain tension in your movements. But hearing you say it out loud while trembling in his arms made him feel something he’d never experienced before. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of your head against his chest, and for the first time, his usual arrogance gave way to a strange, unfamiliar curiosity.
"Wren… I never would’ve guessed I’d be your first kiss," he said quietly. "Between summer camp and university, half the guys are crazy about you. I just assumed at least one of them would’ve had the guts to kiss you by now."
You stiffened instantly, burying your face deeper into his hoodie. "Let’s not get into that chapter of my life. It’s embarrassing…" you mumbled, trying to turn away to hide the blush now creeping down your neck. But Niki didn’t let you. He held you close, forcing you to stay put until you both settled more comfortably in the hay. He stretched out fully while you propped yourself up on one elbow, trapped between his body and the slow, lazy circles his finger began tracing through the damp ends of your hair.
"Undo your braids, Y/N, or tomorrow you’ll have impossible knots, and it’ll all be my fault for dragging you through the storm," he teased, trying to lighten the tension between you. He twirled a strand around his finger, watching the way the dim lightning reflected in your hair. You pouted.
"You undo them, since you like playing with my hair so much!”
Niki didn’t need to be told twice. He looked at you intently, his fingers deftly unraveling the braids. When your hair tumbled loose over your shoulders and into his hand, he ran his fingers through it, almost enchanted by its softness. The scent of cherry filled the air, overwhelming the usual mint and rain, and for a moment, he thought he’d want to bury his face in your hair every damn morning, not just when you invaded the bungalow bathroom with that fragrance. But he quickly pushed the thought away when he saw you nervously tucking the strands behind your ears.
"I’m sorry I stole your first kiss," he started, but he didn’t look at you. "I bet you wanted to give it to some perfect, upper-class guy—you know, the kind with a perfectly ironed shirt and his whole future already mapped out."
You rolled your eyes and sighed deeply at the sudden chill in his tone. "Well, I can’t go back now, and my dream of giving my first kiss to someone I actually like—someone who actually likes me—is officially gone."
Niki was staring at you too intensely, his face too close, and said:
"Well, since we’re stuck here… why don’t you kiss me this time? You know, just for practice… Think of it as training for your future ‘perfect guy.’ At least you’ll know what to do when you meet him."
Your eyes widened, your cheeks burning. "What? No! Are you crazy?" you stammered, trying not to look at him, but he kept teasing you.
"Don’t tell me you’re scared to kiss me," he smirked, closing the distance between you by another centimeter. "Because if you’re scared, it means you’re scared to admit you actually like me." He was showing off, and you seriously wanted to slap him.
"I don’t like you, Niki, and I never will. Get that through your head," you shot back with all the confidence you could muster, even though your heart was pounding wildly against your ribs. You refused to meet his gaze, but he just grinned.
"Good. Then kiss me, Shorty. If you don’t like me, there’s no risk, right? You can just use me as your guinea pig for practice," he continued, amused by your flustered state. He leaned in even closer, his mouth a breath away from yours.
"Unless… you’re not doing it because you think that if you kiss me again, you won’t be able to stop."
But you didn’t let him finish. Just like he had done to you earlier, you slammed your lips against his to shut him up once and for all.
Niki smiled immediately against your mouth, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you hard against him.
Your lips were still uncertain, guided by a shyness that Niki seemed eager to devour with every touch but he also found it sweet. When you felt his tongue brush against your lower lip, he began to suck on those lips no one had ever dared kiss before, and a stifled moan escaped your throat. Niki thought he might just be the luckiest guy in the world, finding himself in this barn with you nearly in his arms, kissing like this.
The hand that had been resting over his heart slid lower, tracing the taut planes of his stomach, while Niki buried his fingers in your loose hair, pressing his palm against the back of your neck to keep you from pulling away—to pull you even closer, because he didn’t want this moment to end. He wanted you to feel just how much you were driving him crazy, and you sighed against his mouth, dazed by the sensations he was giving you with just kisses.
Then, driven by an instinct you didn’t even know you had, you leaned forward and imitated his gesture, timidly sucking on his lower lip. Niki let out a low growl, shifting slightly beneath you as he felt how you were trying—so shyly, so clumsily to drive him wild. But you’d been driving him wild since the first time he’d seen you in the bungalow. He craved more friction, more contact, as if even the smallest space between your bodies was still too much—though there was none at all. Without warning, he pushed his tongue past your lips, and when your tongues met for the first time, you both moaned.
Niki lowered you completely onto the hay, his weight hovering over you not crushing you, but making you feel protected by his warmth, by him. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you so close you could feel every muscle in his body pressed against yours. You kissed for minutes that felt like hours, not just fleeting kisses, but a mix of shy discovery, playful dominance, and restraint, your lips wandering to his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Both of you were drowning in a whirlwind of sensations and emotions you’d never felt before, and neither wanted to stop.
You pulled away just long enough to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You felt his fingers trace the skin at your side, slipping beneath the hem of the hoodie as he held you possessively against him.
"Niki…" you breathed, but he didn’t stop looking at you. Instead, he pressed a finger to your swollen, glossy lips and whispered:
"Don’t think, Wren. Just kiss me."
You didn’t need to be told twice. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him back to you with a force that surprised him, playing with the icy-blond strands at his nape, tugging lightly. Niki groaned against your lips, sending a shiver through you, and you continued to alternate between deep kisses and playful nips, exploring each other in that makeshift refuge while the Montana cold stayed locked outside those walls. For the first time, you felt truly warm but also protected by someone everyone had warned you to stay away from.
Eventually, exhaustion claimed one of you first, and soon, the only sounds in the barn were the drizzling rain and your steady breaths as you fell asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.
After that weekend trapped in the barn, reality hit hard again, because even though you’d kissed and fallen asleep together, you’d hoped those kisses might have changed something in Niki, made him softer or more "human." But you’d made the biggest mistake of your life thinking that, because Niki had gone back to being his usual self or maybe even worse.
His cynicism had doubled, his taunts had become more relentless, driving you crazy and making you curse him 24h-24h. He teased you endlessly but at the same time made it clear that nothing had happened between you, that those kisses had meant nothing. It was frustrating because you had to see him all the time, and you would’ve changed bungalows every day if you could. But when you finally decided you’d had enough, you found yourself walking near the rec area to make sure the kids didn’t wander off and then you saw something surreal, yet sweet enough to warm your heart.
Niki was sitting on the grass with his legs crossed, his back against an oak tree. In front of him was Nina, one of the liveliest little girls in the group, who never left him alone. As usual, Nina was chattering away, telling him how much she adored you and how badly she wanted braids just like yours because her little hands couldn’t manage to gather all her hair. You hid behind a tree, your heart beating strangely.
You saw that Niki wasn’t ignoring her like he usually did. Instead, he ran a hand through Nina’s hair to smooth it, then began braiding it with millimeter precision, his tongue slightly peeking out between his lips in pure concentration a gesture you knew well, one he always made when he was deeply focused on something. As he braided, Nina started talking again:
"I didn’t think someone like you would know how to braid!" Nina exclaimed with the blunt honesty of a child who wanted all his attention. "I bet you only know how because you can’t stop watching Y/N do hers in front of the mirror or when it’s too hot." She giggled, and you saw Niki freeze for a split second before chuckling and shaking his head.
"Oops, you caught me, Nina," he said, and you felt your cheeks warm slightly because you’d never noticed him watching you braid your hair.
"I bet you and Y/n will end up together someday, and you’ll invite me to your wedding in a few years!" Nina said, tilting her head. "Even though I’m just a little kid, I can see how you look at each other, and you should be nicer to her, like you are to me right now." You nodded in agreement and wanted to rush over to high-five Nina and hug her, but you saw Niki give her hair a playful tug when those words left her mouth.
"Ahia!" she protested, swatting his arm, and Niki’s expression suddenly turned melancholic. He grew serious, and you heard him say:
"Y/n deserves a prince charming like in the fairy tales you read, Nina. She doesn’t deserve someone like me… I’m not what she deserves, and I never will be." He tied off the braids, and those words hit you hard because everyone had warned you to stay away from him, and now even he was saying he wasn’t the guy you deserved. You stood frozen as Nina hugged him, barely reaching his waist, and told him to stop being "the bad guy" just because he had tattoos and a scowl. Niki hugged her back tightly, then took out his phone to show her the braids in the camera.
"They’re beautiful, Niki! Thank you! When I see Y/n, I’ll tell her you did them!" Nina said, giggling as she ran off to find you. Niki shot her a look, calling after her:
"Nina! Don’t you dare tell her I did them!" he yelled as she scampered away laughing, and an involuntary smile tugged at your lips. But that sweet moment was wiped away just hours later.
You were near the showers by the lake when you heard a group of counselors giggling. At the center was Chloe, a head counselor like you, but oozing confidence from every pore. She was touching her lips with a dreamy, almost theatrical air as she told her friends what had happened between her and Niki the night before.
"Girls, I swear, Niki is… unreal," Chloe said, adjusting her low-cut tank top with a practiced gesture to draw the attention of the guys fixing the boats. "Last night, behind the tool shed… we kissed for who knows how long, and girls, I’ve never had a kiss like that. Niki’s rough, and let’s be honest, he always wants to be in control, but he knows exactly what he’s doing with those lips of his, they were practically on my..." She giggled. "I’ve never felt so… dominated before, and you all know I’m usually the one calling the shots with guys!"
You rolled your eyes, trying to push back the sudden sting in your eyelids at the thought of Niki kissing someone else as you walked back to the bungalow, you wondered:
Why do my eyes feel like this?
You were furious with yourself because you knew who Niki was a heartbreaker, a guy who lived for moments, not promises. You didn’t want to fall for him like everyone else… but maybe you already had. And you still had another month and a half of sharing a bungalow with him before returning to Chicago.
A month and a half had passed since the start of summer camp, and some of the kids, along with a few counselors had already headed back to Chicago. Thankfully, Lia had stayed with you for the entire summer. You’d said goodbye to all the kids and some of the counselors, and that very evening, fifteen new kids and four new counselors two guys and two girls had arrived.
Two weeks had passed since John’s arrival, and for Niki, every single second he saw or heard him was a struggle not to roll his eyes. John was the exact type of guy Niki despised: a campus swimmer with a blinding smile straight out of a YouTube ad preview, the kind that made you want to skip the video in the first five seconds. He studied English literature and flaunted quotes from authors who had been dead and buried for centuries. It was infuriating.
As you leaned over to tighten the kids’ life jackets, John hovered around you like always—ever since he’d arrived at camp, he’d had the brilliant idea of positioning himself as the prince charming you supposedly needed.
"Be careful, Y/n, don’t strain your back too much. Let me pull these canoe ropes—I wouldn’t want you to overdo it," John said, resting his hand on your shoulder for a second too long for Niki’s liking. Niki watched with a groan of despair as John flirted like an idiot something he’d been witnessing for days now: John sitting next to you at meals, John constantly finding excuses to touch you (though you were reluctant to his advances). One morning, Niki had even found him standing outside your bungalow at 7:30 AM, flashing that smug smile of his. Niki had wanted to make him disappear in zero seconds.
Let’s just say Niki didn’t like John, and the feeling was mutual. So when John found out you were one of the few girls sharing a room with a guy, he’d insisted on asking for explanations. But you’d told him there was nothing to be done, the pairs were set for the summer, and deep down, you didn’t mind staying with Niki. John, however, wasn’t thrilled with your arrangement, especially since everyone could see—and hear that there was still something unresolved between you two.
On the dock, while Niki waited his turn to get into the canoe with Nina, Lia approached him, thoroughly enjoying the show of his irritation toward you and John, a smirk playing on her lips.
"Mmm, someone here doesn’t seem to tolerate another alpha male in his territory," Lia murmured, crossing her arms as Niki snapped his head toward her, eyes narrowed.
"Mind your own business, Lia. That guy’s just… a loser."
Lia chuckled, watching as Niki couldn’t stop glancing at you for even a second.
"A loser, huh? Well, that ‘loser’ is getting all the attention you used to have just a few weeks ago! When are you going to stop acting like a jerk and show her who you really are? She won’t wait forever, Niki. It’s obvious from a mile away that you feel something for Y/n and it’s definitely not hate… Let’s just say ever since you kissed in that barn, the tension between you two could power the entire camp."
Niki froze for a second at Lia’s words, his expression confused. "How do you know that..." He cut himself off, realizing of course you and Lia were best friends and best friends told each other everything. Niki closed his eyes for a moment, and against his will, his mind played tricks on him, memories flooded back: the feel of your fingers in his hair, the way you’d responded to his kiss with that shy hesitation that had made his heart race, the way you’d clung to himl ike you were afraid he’d disappear from that barn.
When he opened his eyes again and saw how you smiled at that guy, he thought: John doesn’t know and never will what it’s like to feel you tremble when someone kisses you, how good it feels to be touched by you, how beautiful you look beneath him with swollen lips, neither of you able to stop kissing…
"I don’t feel anything for her, Lia. She could start dating that John kid tomorrow, and I wouldn’t care," Niki said, looking down for the first time in minutes and deep down, he didn’t even believe himself. Lia shook her head, looking at him with a pity that made him furious.
"You know, you’re not very good at lying, Niki. I thought you were smarter than this, but you’re just like every other guy in the world: the second you realize you feel something, you refuse to face the consequences. What’s the matter? Afraid that admitting even a scrap of emotion will make your ‘bad boy from Chicago’ aura vanish into thin air?" she taunted.
"You don’t know shit about me, Lia, and it’s better if your best friend stays as far away from me as possible… I’m not the happy-ending type, and she doesn’t need someone like me ruining her life," Niki hissed. Lia started walking toward her canoe but paused to land one last jab.
"Cut the tough-guy act, Niki, because if you keep this up, you’ll end up alone forever and trust me, a life with no one brave enough to love you, and no one you’re brave enough to love, isn’t much of a life. I’ll say it one more time: she won’t wait for you forever, Niki. So make a move, because honestly? I don’t like John either." She gave him a little smirk before walking off, leaving Niki standing there, motionless, as you climbed into the canoe with John’s help—and Niki watched as John’s hand brushed your waist to steady you.
In that moment, Niki didn’t just feel jealousy. He felt something else maybe the realization that he could lose you soon. And Niki wasn’t the type to lose something he wanted.
That evening, Niki was sprawled on his bed which was slightly too small for his height, relaxing and playing on his Nintendo Switch. He tried to focus on the game, but it was getting harder and harder not to steal glances at the creaky bathroom door you both shared. From the other side, your slightly off-key voice drifted out as you sang Legendary Lovers by Katy Perry, laughing between verses. You’d been in there way too long, usually, it took you ten minutes to throw on one of your matching, childish pajama sets after slathering on some weird aloe vera mask from too much sun. But when the door finally swung open, Niki expected to see you in your usual sleepwear.
Instead, you stood there in a short, black, slightly glittery top and a denim skirt that left your tanned legs bare. Your hair wasn’t in its usual braids—it was loose and wild, a mess of curls and waves tumbling over your shoulders. The scent of sakura hit him immediately, now so familiar it felt like home. Without realizing it, he let his Switch slide onto the comforter and propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze locking onto you as you adjusted yourself in front of the mirror.
"Where are you going, Y/n?" Niki asked, already dreading your answer. "As far as I know, there’s no bonfire tonight, and we’ve got to be up at seven tomorrow. Every human on this planet needs at least seven or eight hours of sleep." He mentally cursed himself, him, the guy who spent nights staring at the ceiling because of insomnia, was lecturing you about sleep.
"I’m going out," you said, checking your reflection in the mirror. Niki huffed, sitting up sharply. "I see your observational skills are still top-notch, Shorty. Obviously, you’re going out but where and with who? Not that it takes a genius to figure it out."
You didn’t answer. You were too focused on applying a bit of lip gloss that made your lips look even more tempting than they had that night in the barn. The memory alone made Niki’s fists clench.
"I bet you’re going out with John, huh?" he asked, almost laughing. "What’s the plan tonight? Is he gonna gift you a fairy-tale book or recite some famous 19th-century author to flirt with you?"
You whipped around. "Yes, I’m going out with him, and stop making fun of him. At least he’s kind a concept you struggle to understand, especially when it comes to me." You jabbed a finger at him, and right then, your phone buzzed on the table. A message from John: "I’m here."
When you looked up, Niki’s eyes were still locked on you and you on him. The tension in the room was electric, thick enough to cut with a knife. Neither of you wanted to make the first move. You were both too stubborn, too proud, neither breaking eye contact for even a second until Niki finally spoke:
"Go on, Y/n. Wouldn’t want to keep your dear John waiting. Just remember...midnight curfew, or this bungalow might turn into a pumpkin… and I might turn into something dark." He smirked, and you looked at him with a small smile before heading for the door.
"Don’t worry, Niki. I’ll be back by midnight. And don’t stay up waiting for me."
The door clicked shut behind you, and Niki stayed frozen, listening to the sound of your voice greeting John outside. He dragged a hand down his face, groaning as he flopped back onto the bed, running his fingers through his hair.
Like hell I’m not staying up waiting for you, Wren.
Your date with John was going perfectly...too perfectly, perhaps and that was the main problem. John seemed like the prince charming every mother would dream of for her daughter.
You were sitting on the dock, wrapped in a blanket he had spread out with maniacal precision, surrounded by snacks and drinks arranged like a scene from a 2000s romantic movie. Everything was perfect: fireflies dancing over the water, stars twinkling in the sky, the moon casting a silver glow on the lake, creating an almost fairy-tale atmosphere. John was attentive, kind, funny, and you laughed a lot, he was the kind of guy who could put anyone at ease. For any other girl, this would have been the perfect date. But there was one problem for you: you felt nothing.
There was no tension, no attraction, no shiver running down your spine when someone looked at you in a certain way. John was perfect, yes but too perfect, like a character straight out of a book, one of those flawless ones, without the fire that made you feel alive. You couldn’t stand those kinds of characters because everyone had their demons, and it was beautiful to see people’s vulnerabilities and flaws. But John seemed to have none or he was just really good at hiding them.
"When we get back to Chicago, I’d love for you to come see me compete in the regional swimming championships. And who knows, if I win, I might even get you to wear a hoodie with my name on it," he said, smiling at you. You nodded, smiling back.
"It would be nice to come watch you. I’ve never been to a swimming meet only football or basketball games," you replied, looking around. He nodded.
"Then it’ll be an honor to be the first swimmer you come see at the campus," he said, preening slightly. A moment later, a light breeze picked up, tousling your hair. A few strands fell against your lips, still glossy, and you laughed but at the same time, you looked up, annoyed, because you hated when your hair stuck to your lips. You tried to brush it away, but John was faster. Gently, he leaned in and tucked the strands behind your ear.
"There you go, Y/n," he said, his hands lingering near your face for a second too long. Your eyes met, and in that moment, you thought only one thing:
Don’t kiss me. Don’t kiss me. Don’t kiss me.
But John couldn’t hear your thoughts. For him, this was the climactic moment, like in a romance novel or movie where the two protagonists finally kiss and confess their feelings. He saw you there, cheeks flushed from the wind, hair tousled, illuminated by the moon’s silver reflection on the water and he thought there was no better moment to lean in and kiss you. Without thinking, he slowly leaned toward you, closing his eyes and tilting his face, ready to claim what he thought was a silent invitation but deep down, it wasn’t. You immediately caught the scent of his expensive, good cologne, so different from Niki’s that sharp, spicy peppermint that only he could pull off.
Before John’s lips could brush yours, your body reacted on its own a survival reflex. You jerked upright, the wooden planks creaking under your shoes. When John opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the empty space where your face had been a second before. You stood a step back from him, arms crossed over your chest as if protecting yourself from a closeness you didn’t want. He remained half-reclined on the blanket, wearing the most humiliated, confused expression you’d ever seen on a guy.
"I… I’m sorry, John," you whispered, feeling just as embarrassed. You seriously wished you could vanish right then. "I can’t… I can’t return the kiss or anything else." You took another step back.
"Y/n, wait...did I do something wrong?" he asked, trying to get up, but his voice was thick with the awkwardness of someone who’d just been brutally friend-zoned.
"No, you were perfect," you answered sincerely and it was true. John had been sweet to you from the start, and for any other girl, this date would have been perfect. "I’m the problem, not you. This whole date you planned was magical… but not for that’s the point. I’m sorry, again."
And without giving him a chance to respond, you turned and walked quickly toward the bungalows, not stopping even when you heard your name called faintly in the distance. You kept your head down, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your heart pounding almost relieved that you hadn’t kissed John back and you realized it was pounding because you didn’t want a perfect prince, you wanted a guy with a thousand flaws, a thousand fears of admitting what he truly felt for you.
You tiptoed in, your heart still pounding from your hasty escape from the dock, hoping against hope that Niki had somehow fallen into one of his rare deep sleeps, though you knew there was a 99% chance he was awake (that guy barely slept at all). Your hope died the moment your eyes landed on the fully lit room and his hulking figure.
Niki wasn’t asleep. He was lying on his side, his feet hanging off the edge of the mattress, one hand propping up his blond head, and the other clutching your copy of The Mistake by Elle Kennedy, the cover already creased. Your eyes widened in horror at the sight.
"What the hell are you doing, Niki? Put that book down right now!" you shrieked, your voice shattering the silence as your cheeks burned.
He jolted at the sound of your voice clearly not expecting you back so soon but recovered his usual arrogance in a heartbeat. As you lunged for the book, Niki sat up and lifted his arm toward the ceiling. At over 185 cm tall, reaching it was like trying to scale a skyscraper.
"Damn, it’s not even 11:30, and you’re already back? That date must’ve been a disaster, Shorty!" he chuckled, flashing that infuriating smirk. You wanted to slap him.
"My date is none of your business! Give me back my book, now!" you huffed, rising onto your toes and uselessly trying to climb his solid chest to reclaim your precious paperback—especially since you hoped he hadn’t gotten far enough to read the slightly "spicy" scenes in the early chapters.
"Who would’ve guessed?" he continued, ignoring your desperate attempts. "Y/n, the girl with the perfect braids and the 'good girl' soul that everyone adores, reads what’s basically porn disguised as literature! Does John know? Or does he still think you’re completely innocent?"
You froze, hands pressed to your face to hide your mortification, not just because Niki had discovered your romance novels, but because they weren’t normal romances. No, these had full-on steamy chapters. You were too tired, too confused, too embarrassed by everything that had happened that night, so you snapped:
"Keep the damn book, Niki. Do whatever you want with it. I’m going to change." You threw your hands up in defeat, and Niki’s eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up in shock.
Is she seriously letting me win? Just like that?
But he didn’t let you be. As you stepped into the bathroom to remove your makeup, you heard his footsteps follow you. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his muscular arms over his chest, watching you through the mirror as you nervously wiped away your mascara.
"It must’ve gone really badly if you don’t even have the energy to fight with me, Y/N. Come on, Shorty, tell me. What did that loser do?"
You stayed silent, but he kept teasing you, stepping closer and lowering his head to enter your line of sight. "Come on, Y/N, what did he do to make you come back so early? It hasn’t even been two hours since you left… Honestly, if I had a date with a girl I liked, I’d stay with her all night." He watched you, and you sighed, exhausted by his questions and the whole situation.
"He tried to kiss me, Niki!" you blurted out, spinning around so fast you nearly threw the cotton pad in your hand at him.
For the first time in a long while, the room fell into a deafening silence. Niki’s jaw clenched so hard you saw the muscles in his neck tighten like ropes. His mocking gaze darkened, and he lowered his face slightly, avoiding your eyes for a moment.
"Did you… I mean… did you kiss him back?" he asked quietly. You stayed silent for a few seconds, watching him, and saw a shadow of sadness, something you’d never seen on his face before—cross his features. Niki took your silence as confirmation.
"No, Niki. I didn’t kiss him. In fact, one of the most embarrassing things of my life happened. While he leaned in, thinking he had me, I moved away, and he just sat there with his mouth open like a goldfish, staring at space for what felt like forever until he realized I wasn’t there anymore." You said it all in one breath, and for a full minute, neither of you spoke. Niki brought a hand to his lips, trying to stifle a sound that was half sigh of relief, half hysterical laugh, and tried to speak—but you shot him a glare.
"Now get out of here because I need to change, and I just want to go to sleep. Please don’t ask any more questions, Niki." You pushed him out with all your strength, slamming the door shut and leaning against it.
"Y/n?" he called softly, his tone suddenly serious.
"Go to bed, Niki. Please."
For the first time in weeks, Niki listened. He got into bed and waited for you. When the bathroom door finally reopened, he watched you walk slowly and turn off the small light, letting only the moonlight filtering through the curtains illuminate the room. You slipped under the covers and, for the first time in hours, felt safe maybe even at peace with yourself because Niki was just a few feet away.
"Sweet dreams, Wren," he murmured into the darkness, his voice completely sincere for once.
"Goodnight, Niki," you replied, your mind already sinking into the pillow. Niki waited until he heard your breathing slow and steady, and only then did he close his eyes. And for the first time since he’d arrived in Montana, he fell asleep too maybe because, deep down, he knew you hadn’t kissed that guy back because there was someone else in your heart, and that someone was him.
The wind howled outside the window, and the rain pounded relentlessly against the bungalow’s glass, the distant rumble of thunder stirring a mix of anxiety and drowsy comfort in you. You burrowed deeper under the covers, savoring that moment of peace before reality hit but it didn’t last long—the walkie-talkie every counselor kept on their nightstand screeched to life, and you groaned, stretching out a sleep-heavy arm to grab it, still half-asleep.
As you blinked your eyes open to keep from dropping the device, you saw that Niki was still fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the apocalyptic weather outside. One arm dangled off the bed, and his face was twisted into an adorably childish pout—nothing like the arrogant, athletic guy he pretended to be during activities. The camp director’s voice came through clear and lively, snapping you back to reality, and you tore your gaze away from the guy snoring softly with his mouth open.
"Good morning, everyone," the director’s voice boomed from the walkie-talkie, followed by a chorus of groggy "good mornings" from the other counselors. You mumbled yours, too.
"I think you’ve all heard and seen what’s happening outside your cabins, trees down, the path to the main lodge is completely flooded. Strong wind gusts are expected today and tomorrow, rain for the next three days straight, and a violent thunderstorm with lightning is forecast for late afternoon." As the director spoke, you heard Niki let out a sleepy groan as he began stretching like a cat, his too-long, too-bulky body barely fitting on his bed.
"The kids are safe in the main building with us," the director continued. "Those of you in the bungalows will have to stay inside for at least two days. You’ve all got kitchens and enough food to survive. Stay safe, and please… don’tkill each other if you don’t get along. I know some pairs have… history, but behave, you’re not kids anymore! The radios stay on for emergencies. Have a good day."
Niki opened one eye, then the other, and looked at you, his voice still thick with sleep. "What’d he say?" he mumbled, sinking back into his pillow.
"He said we’re officially prisoners," you replied, staring at the low, gray clouds beyond the window. "Every time it rains, you and I end up stuck sharing the same space. It’s a curse." You pouted slightly, and Niki chuckled, watching you.
"Come on, wren, don’t tell me you’re complaining. Think about it—you could’ve been stuck with John. Having him around 24/7, knowing you’d friend-zone him after two..."
Before he could finish, you grabbed your pillow and hurled it at his face with all your strength. He burst into loud laughter, effortlessly catching it with his annoyingly quick reflexes, the pillow never even grazing his face.
"Please, Niki! Let’s not talk about John or yesterday’s disaster date," you groaned, sinking back into bed and pulling the covers up to your nose. You just wanted to disappear and forget the embarrassment of last night.
Niki stayed quiet for a moment, watching you hiding under the covers, and something in him swelled at how cute you looked. Without thinking, he said:
"What do you say we watch a movie or a show these next few days? We can push the beds together to make one big bed and watch it side by side?" He watched you, clutching the blankets tightly, waiting for an answer.
Your eyes widened from under the covers, a ping of anxiety shooting through you.
What did he mean by this? Did he want to be close to me? Did he want to sleep with me? Or was this just another way to tease me like usual? You wondered, pushing the warm blankets off your body. You saw him watching you and nodded.
"No problem for me. Let’s move them...at least your giant body that’s more like a pole will be more comfortable, and you’ll stop kicking at nothing."
He rolled his eyes at your joke but couldn’t hide a small smile. He got up while you were still sitting on your bed, and with ease, he started shifting the nightstand between you. In just a few minutes, his bed was aligned perfectly with yours, the two now connected with a mountain of shared blankets in the middle.
"First, though, I need to eat," you said, your stomach growling. "Otherwise, the next thunder you hear might be my stomach." You patted your belly, and Niki laughed, taking in the sight of you—hair tousled, way too cute for his own good.
The kitchen was tiny, and every time one of you moved, you bumped elbows or backs into the other. It looked like one of those cute couples from ads, feeding each other—except you two weren’t a couple.
Niki handled the moka pot, while you started slicing strawberries and bananas with surgical precision. He popped bread into the toaster until it was perfectly crisp, then began spreading on a generous layer of Nutella, so much that the edges were already oozing over as you watched him get his fingers messy, you laughed.
"That’s bread with Nutella, Niki, not Nutella with a little bread," you teased, sitting on the counter and swinging your legs.
"Life’s too short to skimp on chocolate, wren!" he shot back, stepping closer to add your strawberries on top of the dark spread.
You and Niki continued eating in an unusual silence for the two of you, broken only by the rumble of thunder and the sound of rain pounding on the tent. Every now and then, your eyes met, only to quickly slide away toward the window, where the clouds were so low it felt like you were in a place that wasn’t quite real a world where it was just the two of you.
As you took the last bite of your second slice of bread and Nutella, you felt his eyes on you. It wasn’t the look of someone who wanted to argue or tease you—there was something almost thoughtful in the way he watched you.
"Wait, you’re messy. Again," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and provocation, pointing to his own lip as a reference for where you should clean. "You really don’t know how to eat like a normal person, do you, Shorty?"
You rolled your eyes, trying to wipe your mouth. "If I’m messy, it means I enjoyed it. Or maybe someone here went way overboard with the Nutella, and that’s why I’m covered in it!" you shot back, trying to clean your lips with your index finger, but all you managed to do was smear the sticky mess even more. Niki let out a sound that was half sigh, half laugh. Without a word, he took two steps forward, then leaned in between your legs, forcing you to tilt your chin up to maintain eye contact. His hair was still a little tousled from the pillow, falling over his forehead in a soft fringe that gave him an almost "good boy" vibe.
Your heart pounded against your chest at his closeness. Niki hadn’t been this close to you since… well, that kiss in the barn.
He raised his hand slowly, as if giving you time to pull away but you stayed still, and you felt the pad of his thumb press against the corner of your mouth. A violent shiver ran down your spine as he traced the entire outline of your lower lip with maddening slowness. Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t look away. A moment later, he pressed his thumb gently against the Nutella smear on your lip, collecting the last trace of chocolate.
"There. All clean, Shorty," he murmured in a husky voice. Then, with a boldness only Niki could pull off, he brought his chocolate-stained finger to his lips and slowly licked it, never breaking eye contact. The intimacy of the gesture so forbidden, so raw—left you stunned, your lips parting slightly in shock.
You and Niki were centimeters apart, and if he had leaned in even a millimeter, your lips would have met again. You swallowed hard, and for a second… you wanted it. You wanted him to do it again but then, like a sudden flash, you remembered all the campus rumors—all the girls he’d looked at with those same eyes, all the girls he’d kissed so you took control of the situation.
"Well… thanks for cleaning me up," you said, your voice trembling slightly. You placed your hands on his chest and gently pushed him away, sliding off the counter in one swift motion.
"I… I’m going to the bathroom for a second, and then yes, we can watch a show. You can even pick it. Happy?" you said, rushing toward the bathroom and shutting the door behind you, pressing your back against it.
Montana had decided to play cruel tricks or maybe it was just trying to force you and Niki together as much as possible. What was supposed to be a brief storm had turned into an endless weather alert: the two days of forced isolation had stretched into four, turning your bungalow into a temporary refuge where you had to coexist with Niki for four straight days without stepping outside.
Incredibly, for forty-eight hours straight, you hadn’t killed each other. In fact, you’d even established a routine, though, of course, the jabs and teasing never stopped. They were what kept the electricity in the bungalow alive. Niki had teased you all through the first night after you, terrified by the thunder and jump scares from the horror movie he had insisted on watching (you cursed yourself for letting him pick), had spent the night wide-eyed until 3 AM until Niki, in the dark, had reached out and let you grip his strong fingers until you finally fell asleep. The next morning, his hand was still entwined with yours, and both of you had shifted closer in the bed.
You, of course, hadn’t let up on how useless he was in the kitchen, the man would’ve survived on instant ramen for all four days if you hadn’t been there. He had the uncanny ability to make even the water in the kettle disappear if you weren’t careful. But thanks to you, you ate normally. By the third day, you were exhausted from being so close to him, so you decided to hide in the bathroom for a regenerating shower, and honestly, you got lost in your thoughts, taking advantage of a lull in the lightning to truly relax—maybe even staying under the water a little too long.
When you finally stepped out, wrapped in steam, your eyes widened in horror when you saw that where you swore you’dleft your change of clothes for the night, there were only your panties. No shirt, no pants...nothing.
You swallowed hard, realizing you had to get out somehow, and you definitely weren’t calling Niki, he’d never let you live it down. So, carefully, you opened the door to Niki’s closet, which was right there within reach. It was filled with his "organized chaos" a system only he understood. Without overthinking it, you grabbed a deep burgundy T-shirt of his that smelled like him and tried on his pants but they were comically huge. The shirt, however, reached mid-thigh, and you thought:
Whatever. It’s only five steps to my closet. He won’t even notice I’m wearing his shirt.
You dried your hair, applied your sakura-scented cream, smelling of spring and cherry blossoms and opened the door. A wave of that fragrance immediately filled the bungalow, but your heart stopped when you saw Niki. He wasn’t at his PC, wasn’t playing his Switch, he was lying on the bed, his back against the wall, and in his hands was your Elle Kennedy book… that book… the one with the colorful Post-its marking the spiciest scenes.
"Niki, put that book down!" you squealed, your voice cracking with embarrassment. He burst out laughingm but when he looked up, his eyes weren’t on the pages anymore. They were locked on you on his burgundy shirt clinging to your body, on your bare legs, still warm from the shower, radiating heat and scent. You tried to lunge for the book, but with his lightning reflexes, he lifted his arms above his head. So you stood on your toes, pressing your body against his in an attempt to reach it but you heard Niki swallow loudly. You were so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, and you realized the shirt was riding up dangerously as you stretched.
"Niki, stop reading that thing! Give it back!"
"And why should I? It’s a good book," he said, his voice rough. "Every time I read further, I find scenes that are… decidedly spicy… scenes that you, the good girl you pretend to be, act like you don’t understand, right, Wren?"
You kept struggling until, with a sharp motion, he tossed the book onto the floor. You glared at him with pure hatred.
"Oh my God, I can’t stand you, Niki! You always have to snoop, you always have to touch my things! I don’t touch yours! I never touch the stupid drawings that you guard like a relic! And I don’t know how we’ve gone two days without fighting, you’re insufferable!" you shouted, turning your back on him to rush and pick up the book from the floor. But he moved faster, blocking you before you could bend down and this time, he wasn’t laughing.
"You’re insufferable too, Y/N!" he shouted back. "I can’t stand the way you look at me. I can’t stand when you pretend not to realize how damn hard it is for me to be locked in here with you 24/h, I can’t stand my own head, always bringing me back to you, making me imagine what you’d be like if you were really mine and I can’t stand that you play innocent and then read these stories where the characters do everything because it’s driving me crazy!"
He took a step forward, looming over you, and you stayed frozen, staring at him.
"I can’t stand seeing you in my clothes because I want to see you in them all the time, to mark you as mine but at the same time, I want to rip them off you and I hate....I hate with every part of me seeing you with other guys, especially that loser John. I can’t stand you because from the first moment I saw you in this damn summer camp, the only thing I wanted was for you to be mine and the worst punishment they could’ve given me was making me live with you, Y/n."
He said it all in one breath, and the silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of the rain. Niki shot you one last burning glance, then turned toward the kitchen, heading straight for the exit door. He wanted to leave, to run out into the storm rather than face what he’d just confessed and you hated his completely bipolar personality.
But you couldn’t let him go, not after that. You were tired of this situation, and before his hand could grab the doorknob, you reached him and grabbed his wrist tightly.
"Don’t you dare walk away from me, Niki," you whispered, your voice low. "Don’t you dare leave me here after saying all that."
Without hesitation, you rose onto your toes, your fingers gripping the fabric of his burgundy shirt at his chest, and timidly pulled him toward you, pressing your lips against his. For a moment, Niki stayed frozen, surprised by your boldness so far outside your comfort zone but then, as if an electric shock had jolted him awake, he took control, not wasting a second to claim what he’d wanted for so long.
His hand slid possessively over your side, his long, warm fingers pressing into your skin through the thin fabric, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. With his other hand, he cupped your cheek, his thumb gently tracing your soft skin in a way that stole your breath. The kiss shifted instantly, no longer the awkward, hesitant one from the barn. Now, it was passionate, desperate, as if both of you had been craving this for far too long. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers burying into his still-damp hair, while he leaned down slightly, erasing every last centimeter of distance between you.
His tongue insistently traced the outline of your lips, teasing, asking for access and you granted it with a deep sigh that sent shivers through Niki. When his tongue finally slid against yours, the kiss deepened, and the only sounds in the bungalow were the patter of rain, the howl of the wind, and your ragged breaths.
Niki let out a low, rough chuckle against your lips at the sound of your sigh, and he couldn’t wait to hear you moan in pleasure, to see you vulnerable and responsive under his touch.
"God, you drive me crazy, wren…" he murmured between kisses, before playfully nipping at your lower lip.
"Niki…" you moaned softly, almost worried someone might hear. His name slipped from your lips in a way that was so sweet, yet so sexy, it made him shiver for a moment. Usually, when you said his name, it was to tease or scold him, but now… now, you were saying it because yes, he was teasing you but in a way he wanted to do every day, to kiss you, to drive you wild with his touch.
Niki pulled back slightly, your faces just centimeters apart, and sighed near your lips:
"Tell me it’s the same for you, Y/n. Tell me," he demanded, slowly pushing you backward toward the sleeping area. A few moments later, your knees hit the edge of the "super-bed", and you tumbled onto the mattress, pulling him down with you. Niki positioned himself above you, supporting himself on his forearms so as not to crush you, while you kept your arms locked around his neck.
You tried to kiss him again, but he pulled back with a challenging smirk.
"No, no. I’ve laid my cards on the table, wren… now it’s your turn. Otherwise, we’ll stay like this all night… or all day tomorrow until you talk." He grinned, and the silence grew heavy again until Niki decided to torture you further, lowering himself slowly and pressing his lips against the warm, sensitive skin of your neck.
"N-Niki… please…" You whispered, tilting your head to give him more space.
"You speak just fine when you want to, Y/n, too well, in fact," he murmured against your skin, alternating wet kisses with playful nips of his teeth. "So tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, or we’re not going anywhere."
You clung to his biceps, feeling the strength of his muscles under your fingers, and tugged lightly at his hair to get his attention.
"Fine! Fine, you win!" you blurted out in one breath. "I can’t stand you either, Niki. Everyone, every single person told me to stay away from you, that you were trouble, and maybe you still are. But fate decided to be ironic and stuck us in this bungalow for the whole summer… At first, I really couldn’t stand you: you were grumpy, arrogant, you teased me every second, and you were way too bipolar for my taste!" You said it all in one rush, and he chuckled against your skin, his lips placing light kisses as they traveled up toward your jaw while his hand slid under the hem of your shirt, stopping at the bare curve of your waist. You bit your lip to hide how much you liked his touch—too much for your own good.
"Keep going, Y/n. Don’t stop now," he murmured against your ear, and you lifted your eyes, feeling vulnerable but determined to say what you felt.
"You win, Niki. Ever since you kissed me in that barn, everything changed… My feelings went out of control for you. And just like you hate John… I… I hated hearing the other counselors talk about you, hated hearing how good you were at kissing, or how they wanted to get your attention or end up in your bed. And yes, I’ll admit it, it drove me crazy with jealousy. So yes… what do you feel? That’s exactly what I feel."
You lowered your gaze, unable to hold his, afraid for a second that he might laugh at you or go back to being his usual cynical self. But instead, you felt his fingers gently lift your chin, and when you met his eyes again, you saw something different in his gaze. He leaned toward you, stopping a breath away from your lips.
"We’ve been two stubborn fools for not realizing this sooner, Y/n," he murmured, his breath mingling with yours. "And I don’t intend to waste any more time. We’ve figured out we like each other, and that’s all that matters in this damn bungalow but don’t think I’ll stop giving you a hard time," he added, pinching your side lightly to make you flinch. "We’ll never stop cursing each other out, right?"
You laughed and pulled him closer, nodding fiercely. "Never, Niki. I’ll never stop teasing you or busting your balls."You caressed his cheek, and he smiled against your lips a real, bright smile you’d never seen on him before and kissed you again, but this time more gently, as if he wanted to seal every word you’d just said into his memory.
That evening, you were tangled in the blankets of your "super-bed," kissing until your lips were tender, alternating between kisses and long moments of silent gazes while a K-drama played on the screen. Niki, who had initially pretended to watch it just to humor you, ended up being the most invested in the plot, commenting on every twist and teasing how obvious it was which of the two protagonists would fall in love first. He mocked how cliché and over-the-top it all was just to make any girl dream but even he couldn’t hide his interest.
But after a couple of episodes, you yawned for the tenth time in half an hour, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.
"What a lightweight you are, Wren," Niki muttered, rolling his eyes with an amused smirk. "It’s barely 10 PM, and you’re already crashing. Are you really just a little girl who needs her beauty sleep, or do you turn into a grump without it?" He watched as you snuggled deeper into the warm blankets and muggled into them.
"A lightweight? Please. It’s a talent not everyone has, to fall asleep in a minute and sleep more than eight hours,"you replied, your voice already thick with sleep as you settled more comfortably against the pillow. "I love sleeping, and I love going to bed early. It’s a natural gift." You closed your eyes slightly but could still feel his gaze on you, almost like a physical sensation.
"Stop staring at me, Niki," you mumbled, keeping your eyes shut.
"And how do you know I’m staring at you if your eyes are closed? Do you have psychic powers, Wren?" he shot back, amused.
At that, you suddenly opened your eyes wide and caught him red-handed. Niki, with his lightning reflexes, quickly shifted his gaze to the wooden wall as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world, but a guilty little smirk gave him away.
"Busted!" you exclaimed in a whisper, stretching a hand under the blankets. Your fingers searched for his, and almost playfully, you brushed the back of his hand. He stayed still for a second, didn’t fully intertwine his fingers with yours, but he didn’t pull away either. You felt his warmth blend with yours, and then he squeezed your hand.
"Mmm… I was thinking about that night you held my hand because you 'knew I was scared of horror movies'…"you started, teasing him with a sly expression. "Admit it, it was just a pathetic excuse to get a little physical contact with me. The camp’s bad boy needed to hold my hand?" You laughed, feeling his grip tighten slightly. He huffed, trying to pull away, but you were faster. You grabbed his hand firmly and pressed it against your chest, holding it tight over your irregularly beating heart.
"Shut that mouth of yours, wren, and go to sleep, or I’ll throw you out of bed," he grumbled, but he made no move to take his hand back. Instead, you felt his thumb gently trace the warm skin of the back of your hand, and you chuckled softly, savoring that moment of pure sweetness.
"Goodnight, Ki," you said but before drifting off completely, you did something you would’ve never dared just a few days ago—maybe it was the coziness of the bungalow that gave you courage. With a quick movement, you propped yourself up slightly on your elbows and, in a move that would’ve shocked your past self, you leaned toward him and planted a quick kiss just under his chin, right where a new mole was. Then, as if nothing had happened, you burrowed back under the covers, pulling them up over your nose to hide the triumphant smile lighting up your face.
From your privileged position, you caught a glimpse of his face through a gap in the blankets. Niki was literally stunned, his usually teasing eyes wide as they stared at you, his jaw slightly slack, and a faint, almost invisible blush tinting his cheekbones. You heard him sigh as he, too, closed his eyes, continuing to gently stroke the palm of your hand until you both sank into a deep sleep almost completely tangled together, hands still intertwined.
The fourth day of isolation began with the same terrible weather as the day before, and Montana showed no signs of letting up. The sky was still heavy with rain, and every so often, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed through the windows.
After a lazy breakfast filled with whispered laughter and lingering glances, you finished the TV series marathon you’d both enjoyed. Niki, using the excuse that he hadn’t slept well all summer, finally gave in to exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep that afternoon.
He’d dozed off with one arm possessively wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, and you’d never have guessed, seeing him up close like this how much he looked like a puppy while he slept. At the same time, you couldn’t help but notice how much he needed to touch you. You’d already realized back in the barn that Niki loved physical contact with you, but after yesterday, he hadn’t stopped resting a hand on your waist while you cooked, playing with your loose hair, tracing circles on your palm, or kissing you casually. And deep down, you loved this side of him that he only showed to you.
You stayed awake, your heart still beating a little faster from his closeness, and finally picked up The Mistake by Elle Kennedy again. For over an hour, the only sounds in the bungalow were the rustle of pages and Niki’s steady breathing against your shoulder as he napped. You were completely absorbed in Logan and Grace’s story, chuckling to yourself at Logan’s ridiculous lines and underlining the most iconic scenes the book was now covered in colorful Post-its peeking out from the edges.
"I’m going back to sleep for a bit, and of course, you’ve used that as an excuse to get further into this porn disguised as romance!"
Niki’s sleep-thickened voice made you jump, and you instinctively pressed the book to your face to hide your guilty expression. He unwound his arm from around you, stretching lazily, his hair falling over his forehead. When his eyes landed on the book, a crooked smirk tugged at his lips as he took in the avalanche of new Post-its you’d added since the last time he’d seen it.
"Come on, Wren, don’t play innocent," he said, rolling onto his side to get a better look at you. "Admit you like it and admit you don’t just like it because it’s a 'romance,' but because of those spicy scenes you’d love to try for the first time in your life." He chuckled, and you let the book slide just enough for him to see your eyes a mix of embarrassment and something else.
Your cheeks were a soft pink, a stark contrast to the burgundy of his shirt, which you were still wearing. Niki thought you looked beautiful, but most of all, he thought your little pout was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
"Niki, spicy scenes are in every book these days," you shot back, trying to sound confident. "You shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not as innocent as you think. Okay, fine, I haven’t had… direct experience… but I know what happens between a man and a woman when they like each other. So…"
Before you could finish, Niki lunged at you with feline speed, closing the distance between you. His face was a breath away from yours, but instead of kissing your lips, he diverted to your earlobe, brushing it lightly with his lips.
"And what do you know, Wren?" he whispered. "Come on, tell me what you’d want the guy you like… who happens to be me… to do." He added that last part with the arrogance that usually made you furious but now, it just made you shiver.
You rolled your eyes, muttering that he was getting too full of himself, but your knuckles were white from how tightly you were gripping the book’s cover.
"Come on, Y/n," he insisted, his voice rough. "Tell me what those two protagonists do… what you’d want you and me to… replicate?"
You swallowed hard, feeling how much Niki was teasing you, pushing you. "I… I’d like to be kissed in other places… not just on the mouth," you confessed, closing your eyes.
Niki smiled against your skin, and you felt the warm, wet pressure of his lips just below your jaw, a slow kiss that traveled up toward your ear. "Keep going," he urged, still teasing.
"I’d like… yes, for your hands to touch me in places no one ever has… and at the same time…" You paused, feeling your cheeks burn. "I’d like to kiss you in a very specific spot."
Niki froze for a second at your words, his mind racing through all the possible scenarios of where you might want to kiss him. You heard him swallow hard, one eyebrow arching in an expression somewhere between disbelief and ecstasy.
"And where would you like to kiss me?"
You lifted a trembling finger and pressed it just below his waist, on the left side right where the lip-shaped tattoo marked his skin, just above the waistband of his pants. "Here."
Niki stared at you in silence for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. You looked at him with a slightly offended pout, but he never took his eyes off you. Still watching you, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and, in one fluid motion, pulled it off, tossing it somewhere onto the bed. You were left breathless at the sight of his defined biceps, sculpted chest dusted with ink, and that perfectly chiseled V-line that looked like it had been drawn by an artist obsessed with his muse and then there was the lip tattoo, now fully exposed in front of you. Niki sat properly in front of you, legs spread apart, hands resting on his thighs as he tapped his fingers lightly, fixing you with a small smirk.
"Come here, wren," he murmured.
You shifted cautiously, feeling a mix of vulnerability and nervousness, but deep down, you trusted Niki. You positioned yourself straddling him, and the physical contact was immediate, your bare thighs against the fabric of his pants, his large hands gripping your hips to pull you even closer between you.
Niki tilted his head back, watching you, and found you adorable in your hesitation, unable to meet his gaze.
"Come on, Wren… don’t be afraid. Show me what you want to do," he murmured, his voice rough. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your fingers in his messy hair, and leaned down slowly. You caught the scent of your sakura-scented body wash on his skin and chuckled before beginning to place small, chaste kisses, almost shyly, starting from the base of his jaw and working your way down to his prominent collarbone. But when you felt Niki’s hands tighten on your hips, almost begging for more pressure, your courage grew. Driven by newfound confidence, you began to suck lightly on his fair skin, alternating kisses with playful nips. Niki let out a stifled moan as his head fell back further against the headboard, his skin already flushing redder than usual. You smirked to yourself, thinking that maybe tomorrow, the other girls would notice that this guy was secretly yours.
"Fuck, Wren…" he breathed, his voice ragged. You found a sensitive spot just below his earlobe, and when you nipped at it, you felt him shiver beneath you. You smiled against his skin because you’d discovered his secret, you’d found a spot where he was weak, and you couldn’t wait to uncover what other places would make him beg and lose control.
You leaned down further, exploring his sculpted, ink-stained chest. The yellow light in the room made every muscle, every defined line from his summer of hard work stand out, and when your kisses reached his nipples, your curiosity took over. You licked one with the tip of your tongue, and Niki jolted because damn, he hadn’t expected that from you… No one had, honestly, given how "pure" you seemed in everyone’s eyes. He gently grabbed your hair, pulling just enough to force you to lift your gaze and meet his desire-clouded eyes.
"Don’t stop… please, keep going," he begged, and that plea in his usually gruff voice made you feel incredibly powerful. So you continued to tease him, alternating your tongue with deep kisses, until your hands slid down his tight abs, feeling how hard they were, like marble, under your fingertips. You paused for a moment, biting your lower lip as you admired the masterpiece of a body that looked like it had been drawn by an obsessed artist.
"You’re really beautiful, Niki," you whispered, slightly embarrassed but also aware of what you were saying to the guy in front of you. Niki’s breath caught in his throat because he was used to the easy compliments from campus girls, the empty words whispered in hallways. But hearing it from you—while you looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world—had a devastating effect on him. For the first time, he felt something unravel inside him, and he didn’t know if it was desire, love, or what he felt for you in that moment. But he didn’t mock you. Instead, he gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, looking at you softly and it was a new feeling for both of you.
"Y-You… you shouldn’t say things like that to me, Wren," he said, playing with your hair.
"Could you… lie down a little, Ki?" you asked, using the nickname that made him smile. He slid down the bed, propping himself up on his elbows to stay partially raised, desperate not to miss a single moment of what you were about to do because he was genuinely curious to see what you’d come up with. You tucked your hair behind your ears, and such a simple gesture made him swallow hard. With slightly trembling fingers, you hooked the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down a few centimeters, revealing the elastic waistband of his boxers—and right next to it, the red lip tattoo that had haunted your forbidden dreams for weeks. Niki let out a low whistle, trying to regain his usual cockiness.
"Well, well… the good girl’s aiming straight for the forbidden zone. Are you sure you can handle what you’ll find down there, Wren?"
You shot him one last challenging look before pressing your lips right over that tattoo, and the contact of your mouth with the warm skin of his lower abdomen silenced him instantly.
Niki clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the sheets, overwhelmed by the sight of you curled between his legs, kissing that intimate mark with devotion. Small shivers ran through his entire body.
You began to trace its outline with the tip of your tongue, lingering on the warm skin that pulsed with every touch, and Niki let out a beautiful moan as his back arched slightly off the mattress. You smiled against his skin because the camp’s "bad boy" was melting under your simple touch.
You moved lower, placing small, wet kisses just below his navel, brushing against the gray cotton edge of his boxers. Every movement you made, innocent on the surface but designed to drive him wild—and every time your body pressed against his thighs as you straddled him, you felt his erection grow harder, more insistent, pulsing against you.
"Fuck, Wren… you’re killing me," he cursed, his voice rough. Every time you placed small kisses right below the edge of his boxers, he couldn’t stay still because your lips always sought out his most sensitive spots, and he was reaching his limit.
"I don’t think you’re ready for a blowjob, Y/n… and if you keep this up, I’ll lose control. How about you stop teasing me and let… let me take charge? You’ve provoked me enough, little one. Earlier, you said you wanted to be kissed elsewhere… where?" he almost stammered, his voice shaking from how close he was to coming like a teenager if you kept teasing him with your movements and kisses. His hands slid down your thighs, squeezing them lightly in a possessive gesture that stole your breath.
"Look how you’re trembling… does it turn you on to know I’m the one affecting you like this? The guy you’re supposed to hate, the one you’re supposed to stay away from?"
You nodded as you sucked on the fair skin of his lower abdomen, instinctively tightening your thighs around his hips. Niki cursed again, his hand sliding up your thigh and squeezing the flesh with just enough pressure.
He gently rolled you onto your back, stretching you out on the "super-bed," and took a second to adjust his boxers before positioning himself above you, looming over you with his muscular frame. But he kept himself propped up on his forearms, careful not to crush you, and traced the edge of your lips with his thumb, his expression suddenly serious and protective.
"First of all… are you sure you want this? Sure you want me to touch you?"
"Yes," you answered, and he smiled—but it was a different kind of smile. There was no trace of teasing, no hint of the guy who loved to rile you up. Just a softness you’d never have associated with the Niki everyone described.
"I know no one’s ever touched you before, Wren. And I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything. We’ll use three colors, okay? Like a traffic light. Green if you’re good, yellow if you’re embarrassed or want to slow down, and red if you want me to stop immediately. No pressure, got it?" He caressed your cheek as he spoke, and you were struck by how this rebel without rules was now the guy trying to make you feel safe and comfortable.
"It’s perfect," you whispered. Niki leaned down and stole a soft, chaste kiss before his hands slid under the burgundy shirt you were wearing. You felt his large, rough hands against your smooth, warm skin, and it was as if they were made to fit perfectly around your hips. He began lifting the fabric centimeter by centimeter, revealing your sun-kissed stomach, and murmured:
"You’re so soft…" He leaned down to kiss your skin, alternating gentle kisses with light sucks that made you gasp, and used the tip of his tongue to tease your ribs, making you let out small, muffled moans—part pleasure, part tickle.
"Color, Y/N?" he asked against your skin.
"Green…" you stammered, burying your fingers in his blond hair and pulling him closer.
"Can I play with your breasts?" he asked hopefully, his hand already toying with the hem of your shirt. The embarrassment was off the charts, but the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious, desirable thing in the world gave you the courage to nod.
"Green," you answered, and he chuckled. "That’s my good girl."
You pushed the shirt up over your collarbones, letting the fabric bunch under your chin. When your breasts were finally free, the dim light accentuated every curve of your beautiful body. Niki’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the contrast between your Montana-tanned skin and the pale, almost crescent-moon shape where your bikini had protected you all summer.
Niki had always thought you had a gorgeous body, but he hadn’t realized how much and he ran a hand through his hair.
"Fuck, Wren…" he cursed under his breath, his eyes devouring every inch of you. "You’re… you’re stunning."
He didn’t waste time. Like a man devoted to you, he cupped your breasts with his large hands. The contrast between the softness of your skin and the roughness of his calloused palms marked from summer work and weights made you let out a deep sigh. With one hand, he began torturing your right breast, using his thumb to press and roll your hardened nipple, while his mouth descended on the left one. The heat of his tongue enveloping the sensitive tip made you arch your back, and Niki sucked hard, sending electric shocks straight to your core for the first time. Without meaning to, you pushed your hips upward, unconsciously seeking contact with his hard, pulsing length pressing against his boxers, right against your thin lace panties.
"Ah… Niki…" you panted, digging your fingers into his blond hair and pulling him closer. He responded with a moan, loving how close you were.
"Christ, how the hell did I go all summer without putting my hands on you?" he muttered as his left hand squeezed your breast a little too eagerly, his possessive grip making you gasp.
"K-Keep going… but gentler on the left, Ki… I’m really sensitive there… my period’s coming soon." You stammered, and Niki lifted his gaze, his lips glistening, as he continued teasing your clit through your panties and squeezing your breast. A playful grin spread across his face.
"Fuck, that’s why they’re so full and hard…" he murmured, then began tracing slow circles with his tongue around your areola, blowing on it between kisses, savoring your endless shivers. After what felt like forever, he moved lower, licking the underside of your breast with long, deliberate strokes of his tongue, then climbing back up to nip at the pink bud with extreme care.
While his mouth made you feel so good, his hand slid down your smooth thigh. You felt his fingers creep up centimeter by centimeter, tickling the inside of your thigh and making your legs tremble, almost closing on instinct because no one had ever touched you there before.
"Color, Wren?" he whispered against your skin.
"Green…" you managed to gasp as he chuckled softly, his fingers not stopping, they slid under the elastic edge of your panties, finding you already wet and warm. Niki let out a sound of pure approval at how excited you already were, knowing it was all because of him, and that no one else would ever have this privilege in his life.
"Fuck, Shorty… you’re already ready for me," he murmured as his middle finger began rubbing your clit through your damp panties.
Your body arched with a jolt, overwhelmed by a pleasure so intense it was almost too much to handle. To increase the pressure, Niki pushed his hips forward, grinding his hard length against your still-covered core, and you let out a loud moan that filled the room. Embarrassed, you immediately clapped your hands over your mouth to stifle the sound, but Niki stopped, grabbing your wrists and pulling them away from your face, fixing you with an almost fierce intensity.
"No, no, little one… be a good girl and let me hear everything," he said, his voice rough. "I want to hear you moan, I want to hear you scream if that’s what you need. No one can hear us, remember? There’s only the storm outside… it’s just you and me here. So please, don’t feel embarrassed if you want to moan my name...it’s beautiful."
He returned his focus to your breasts, alternating hungry licks with gentle sucks on the lower curve. When he pulled away for a second, he noticed a small purple mark beginning to form on your fair skin. He thought about how he’d love to cover you in these marks, but he knew that soon you’d be back in your swimsuit or canoeing, so he’d save that for later.
His hands slid back to your hips, gripping them tightly, while his fingers inside your panties increased their rhythm.
"Green or yellow, Wren?" he asked.
"Green… please, green," you whispered, feeling him tease the edge of your panties. Niki pulled the thin lace asidewith a slowness that drove you wild, letting the cool air of the bungalow brush against your exposed, aroused skin. When his thumb made direct contact with your clit, the world around you seemed to dissolve—you’d never felt anything like this before, and it was so good.
"Tongue or fingers, Wren?" he whispered, and your eyes widened in surprise at his bluntness.
"I… I trust you. You choose," you said, embarrassed by his question. Niki lifted himself slightly on his arms, studying your expression as he saw how you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him at first.
"Green or yellow, Y/N?" he asked, stroking your cheek. You bit your lower lip, feeling the heat spread all the way to your ears from embarrassment.
"Green… it’s just that I’ve never done anything like this before."
He nodded, and with a gentle motion, he leaned down to place a chaste, reassuring kiss on your forehead, and that touch made you melt.
"Relax. I’ll make you feel good, Wren. Whatever you say, I’ll stop instantly, okay?"
With a fluid motion, he pulled your panties off completely, tossing them somewhere unknown. When his eyes fell on your swollen, glistening intimacy, he let out a deep breath and leaned down, blowing lightly on your clit, making you jolt from the contrast. Then, he gently spread your legs, draping them over his shoulders. For the first time in your life, you were completely exposed, vulnerable under his gaze. Without another word, his warm tongue dove into your clit, and you moaned instantly—it was a strange, wet, completely new sensation, and you finally understood why all the girls said they loved foreplay with guys.
"Fuck, you taste so good…" he cursed against your skin, continuing to tease you with small, circular licks in figure-eights, alternating pressure until you arched your back against the mattress. Feeling you were ready, Niki slid a finger between your folds, and you tensed instinctively, clenching your muscles. He stopped immediately, feeling his finger fully inside you.
"Relax, little one. It’ll be okay. Let me take care of you," he murmured.
You nodded, trying to regulate your breathing, and when his finger slowly slid in centimeter by centimeter, a sense of fullness you’d never felt before flooded you.
"Fuck, you’re so tight… you’re swallowing my finger, Wren," he said as he began to move it in a rhythm that made you tremble, sliding in and out with a patience that was driving you mad—because you wanted more, but you were too shy to ask for it. But Niki understood instantly.
"Can I slide another one in?" he asked, his eyes fixed on yours as they rolled back. You nodded frenetically, unable to speak.
"Good girl… I knew deep down you were this good, that you’d like these slightly dirty things," he teased, and when his middle finger, marked by small calluses from summer work, slid in beside the other, you screamed his name.
"Niki!" Your hands flew to his hair, pulling at it for support as he began to pump with more vigor.
"Damn, Y/n… you’re taking me so well…" he cursed, savoring the sound of your moans, which grew sharper and sharper. He began to coordinate his movements: while his fingers worked inside you with decisive thrusts, his mouth returned to your clit, sucking and licking in sync with his fingers to give you even more pleasure. That double stimulation made you lose all contact with reality, and you screamed even louder, your legs trembling on his shoulders
Niki manipulated you, both mentally and physically with expert precision, slowing down just as you were about to shatter, only to watch you beg for him. His fingers pumped deeper inside you, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision, and his voice was a dark, velvety whisper against your skin.
"Look at you, Shorty. Look how well you take me… were you born to be like this under me, huh?"
Shivers raced up your spine, and an unbearable heat spread through your body. You gasped, tears pricking at your eyes from the frustration of pleasure as he continued to tease you, his fingers pumping harder inside you while his teeth grazed your clit just enough to drive you wild.
"Ki… please… I… I need to come!" you cried, your voice breaking.
But instead of giving you what you craved, he smirked that infuriating, arrogant smirk—the one you usually hated but now loved—and rather than letting you climax, he used his teeth to tease your clit while his fingers pumped even deeper, searching for that most sensitive spot inside you.
"You want to come, little one? Then take it."
He thrust his fingers harder, now that your body had adjusted to their size, with a frenetic rhythm that gave you no escape. And then—you came, screaming his name, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Niki loved how his name sounded on your lips, how one hand was fisted in his hair while the other clawed at the sheets, nearly tearing them. Your body convulsed in endless spasms, your arousal dripping down his fingers and thighs but he didn’t stop.
While you were still riding the high of your orgasm, he leaned down and licked away every trace of your pleasure, the intensity making you whimper.
"It’s too much… Niki, stop, it’s too much!" you sobbed, but he lifted his head just enough to lick you again, murmuring:
"It’s never too much for you, Wren. Look how you’re trembling… you’re pathetic and beautiful at the same time."His hand gripped you possessively, pulling you flush against him. "Do you really think I’d let you rest now, after showing you how good your body can feel?"
And that night, with only the storm’s roar breaking the silence, Niki kept his promise: he gave you no mercy, pushing you to the edge two more times until you were nothing but a trembling, whimpering mess, obsessed with his touch, your body singing his name like a prayer.
When everyone woke up at dawn on the fifth day, the Montana sky was finally a brilliant, cloudless blue, streaked only by the chirping of birds. As the bungalow doors swung open, everyone breathed in that crisp air and the scent of wet pine and fresh grass the kind everyone loved.
The general gathering in the sports pavilion was a chaos of voices and laughter from the kids, who had been cooped up in the dorms with emergency activities. They were all excited to run and bicker with each other again. You smiled as Nina came sprinting toward you and Niki, hugging you both and complaining about how boring it had been to be stuck inside 24/7 with the other kids.
Thankfully, the damage had been minimal: a few broken branches had fallen, there were piles of pine needles and dead leaves forming slippery carpets, and a couple of clotheslines had blown away.
But the real surprise, the one everyone was whispering about and that had shocked even the counselors and camp directors was Niki. He was no longer the sullen guy who ignored everyone, shooting hateful glares at anyone who dared breathe in his direction. He was… softer? He’d always been good with the kids, but now, with the other counselors, you noticed he talked, helped, even smiled without grumbling. Sure, he wasn’t suddenly a ray of sunshine, but most of all, he seemed to have a magnet pulling him constantly into your orbit.
He teased you endlessly: if you were carrying a bucket, he’d tap the back of your knee to throw you off balance, and the kids would giggle every time they saw you two bickering from morning to night. If you were talking to another counselor, he’d insert himself into the conversation even if it had nothing to do with him. Sometimes, you’d even steal the sticks he’d just picked up, only to drop them again while he gathered more from another spot. When he’d look up, you’d just shrug, but every time your eyes met, there was a secret in his gaze—the memory of those nights in the bungalow, getting to know each other, teasing, touching.
In the afternoon, while you were setting up for the bonfire you’d all agreed to have that evening—a way to finally reunite everyone—you were arranging chairs in a circle. The heat was starting to build, so you stepped behind the tool shed to find some shade and water. But before you could take three steps, a strong hand grabbed your arm, pulling you behind the shed, into the shadows of the wood and foliage. Niki leaned over you, his hands settling on your hips.
"Hey, wren," he murmured with a smug grin. You looked around in terror, afraid a kid or worse, the camp director might appear around the corner.
"Niki! What are you doing? If someone sees us...."
"I’ve been trying to get you alone all day. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this," he said, reaching out to gently tug one of your braids, watching as your face flushed a deep pink but suddenly, you felt bold. You rolled your eyes, placing your hands on his bare chest under his open shirt.
"Mmm, so the big bad boy of summer camp misses his… girlfriend?" you teased, and the words "his girlfriend"hung between you, heavy and new. Niki flinched, he’d never thought you’d actually become his girl, and he your boy. He didn’t answer right away, but his eyes lit up with a new light, and with a fluid, decisive motion, he pushed you back against the rough wooden planks of the shed, pinning you with his body.
"Shut up, Wren," he murmured, his lips a millimeter from yours.
"Who would’ve thought," you chuckled, rising onto your toes to bury your fingers in his wind-tousled blond hair. "The guy who loved keeping to himself, who was grumpy all the time… needs attention?" You teased him, and before you could finish, he leaned in and kissed you possessively.
Your arms wrapped around his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And Niki wasn’t shy: as his tongue slid between your lips, claiming you, his right hand slid down, slipping into the back pocket of your jeans with a possessive grip, squeezing your flesh and lifting you slightly against him so you could feel just how reactive he was to your touch. His other hand pressed into your side.
"Fuck, I’ve missed you… you have no idea," he growled against your mouth. You smiled against his lips, nipping lightly at his lower lip, enjoying the small shudder it pulled from him. But just as the atmosphere was about to get too heated, the sharp sound of breaking branches and the laughter of approaching kids reached you from just a few meters away. With a jolt of panic, you pushed him away, trying to compose yourself as your heart pounded too hard. Niki took a step back, chuckling as he watched you reclaim your "good girl" aura.
"We… we should go help the others," you murmured, trying to regain a professional tone. "Otherwise, they’ll get suspicious… The director already has her eye on you for how much you’ve changed these past few days."
He nodded but didn’t take his eyes off you until you glanced back at him one last time before disappearing around the corner. Niki ran a hand through his messy blond hair, making it even wilder, and stayed there for a second in the shed’s shadow.
"Fuck…" he muttered to himself, shaking his head with an incredulous smile on his face. "That girl’s gonna kill me before the end of summer."
The atmosphere at camp had become electric a mix of childlike excitement and the bittersweet melancholy of feeling autumn knocking at the door. The end-of-summer dance wasn’t just an event; it was the culmination of all those months spent under the sun—laughing, joking, playing cards, but also fighting, teasing, discovering crushes, and forging friendships under Montana’s scorching heat.
While the kitchen crew churned out endless trays of snacks and finger sandwiches, the outdoor activities team had set up chairs, tables, and colored lights woven through the willow branches by the lake, turning the gazebo into a kind of crystal chandelier with golden threads. The kids couldn’t wait to see all those lights lit up.
The weeks spent in the decoupage group had been exhilarating, you’d watched piles of card stock transform into messages of love or simple friendship, meant for their dance partners. Your heart tightened every time a child asked for your help to glue something, to draw, or to write the name of the person they liked.
That afternoon, you were leaning against the metal slide, watching the scene unfold a few meters away: Nina had asked you to go with her to Thomas, and with her perfect braids bouncing on her shoulders, she was facing her biggest challenge yet, Thomas, a perpetually grumpy-looking kid with his arms almost always crossed and his gaze usually directed elsewhere, as if a thousand thoughts were swirling in his head. For some strange reason, he reminded you terribly of Niki at the start of the summer.
You watched as Nina handed him the invitation—the one she’d worked on for hours, drawing a Formula 1 single-seaterwith the numbers of Thomas’s favorite drivers on the side. And when Thomas lowered his guard, you saw the tiniest lift at the corner of his mouth. It was a silent victory for both you and Nina. You heard Thomas ask, "Why me?"
Nina was quiet for a moment, then said, "Well, you’re the only one who doesn’t talk much but says everything with his eyes or his face… And it was nice when I scraped my knee and you took me to the infirmary, and how every day, without anyone seeing, you changed my bandages especially the pink ones with princesses. So that’s why I want you to come find me at the dance for a little while."
Nina didn’t wait for an answer. She planted a small kiss on his cheek and ran toward you, her big eyes shining.
"He’ll definitely come find me," she declared, tucking a braid behind her ear. "Wow, Nina, you really have a lot of self-confidence. Never let anyone take that away from you when you grow up, okay? Promise?" you said, squeezing her small hand in yours.
But as you started walking toward the lake, the conversation took a turn you never expected.
"Who are you going to the dance with? I hope Niki asked you to go with him," she whispered, as if revealing a state secret, skipping along beside you. Your heart pounded at her words.
"Why… why would Niki ask me to the dance, Nina?" you asked, trying to sound indifferent, but the little girl just smiled knowingly.
"Well, because he likes you, Y/n. He’s been talking about you to me all summer. And I’ll tell you a secret...these braids?" She giggled, covering her mouth as if she’d just shared something she wasn’t supposed to. "He does them for me every morning because he learned how by watching you do yours in the mirror."
You were stunned by the image of Niki: his big, calloused hands, his famous rings carefully braiding a little girl’s hair, trying to mimic your movements. Your eyes almost welled up as you thought back to all those mornings in the bungalow, when you’d felt his burning gaze on the back of your neck through the mirror as you separated the strands. You’d thought… well, you’d thought he was judging you or just waiting his turn for the bathroom. But instead, he’d been memorizing every movement so he could replicate it on Nina’s hair.
"Nina, I… I and Niki, we’re just… I mean, he always teases me, it’s not possible that...."
But Nina wasn’t done demolishing your defenses. She added, with a touch of cheeky confidence:
"And besides, he should ask you because a couple of weeks ago, I saw you kissing near the tool shed. You’re not very discreet, you know? We kids saw you holding hands, or Niki pulling you away out of nowhere… or him coming to get you every time survival class in the woods ended. Those are things boys in love do… like my dad with my mom."
Your world tilted. The phrase "We kids saw you" echoed in your head like a gong. If seven- or eight-year-olds had figured it all out if they’d seen you pressed against that shed with Niki’s lips on yours then the entire camp knew. The other counselors, the director, maybe even the kitchen staff.
You brought a hand to your face and laughed nervously as Nina pulled you along, but before you went in, she said:
"I’m glad you’re Niki’s princess and not me… I’m too little for him but if I were his age, he’d already be mine!" She burst out laughing and ran off, leaving you alone on the path, your mind spinning.
The day of the dance had finally arrived, Niki had been asking you for days now and yet, you almost wished it never would. It was the last evening you’d spend together. Tomorrow, everyone would return to Chicago, and life would go back to normal, as if nothing had changed. Sure, you and Niki both attended the same university, but what would really change between you? You shook your head. Those questions would have answers in the coming days, not tonight. Tonight was meant to be perfect.
You gave yourself one last look in the mirror: the white and red top stood out against your sun-kissed, golden skin, the result of months under the open sky. The jeans with red stars hugged your curves as if they’d been tailored for you, and the soft, deliberately messy French braid gave you a playful yet polished look. When the sakura-scented perfumefilled the air, you felt ready.
As you stepped outside, you saw Niki leaning against the table, wearing his gray and red hoodie—the one he’d given you that night—unzipped, revealing his bare chest. When his eyes landed on you, you watched him swallow hard, and you smiled at the effect you had on him.
"Fuck, Wren… you look stunning," he murmured, his voice rough, and pulled you close, burying his nose in the crook of your neck as if he wanted to memorize your scent for the months to come.
"You don’t look so bad yourself, Niki," you replied with a sly smile, playing with the strings of his hoodie. "Though a shirt would...."
"Dream on, Wren. I’ll wear a shirt only at my graduation, my wedding, or a job interview not for a dance where there’ll be more brats stuffing their faces with snacks than people actually dancing to TikTok songs." He chuckled, pulling you even closer, and you played with his hair.
"You’ll have to cut this hair when we get back to Chicago," you said.
He rolled his eyes. "Mmm, why? I like it this length. Otherwise, when your hands go through it, you won’t be able to play with it or pull it." He grinned, and your cheeks flushed red. You gave him a light swat on the chest and muttered, "Pervert." His hand tried to slip into your back pocket, but you shook your head.
"Come on, Niki, we’re already late." He sighed, but when he placed his cowboy hat on your head, his expression changed.
It wasn’t just an accessory, it was a camp tradition, a cowboy ritual. He didn’t consider himself a cowboy by any means, but seeing you in his hat, the brim casting a slight shadow over your eyes, triggered a sense of possessivenesshe’d never felt with anyone before. In that moment, Niki realized you weren’t just his date for the night—you were his girl, symbolically claimed in front of everyone. The thought that in a few hours you’d both be on the train back to the city made him want to claim every second of the evening, as if to tell the whole world that you’d still be his in Chicago, too.
"Let me see…" he murmured, adjusting the brim with his fingers, which brushed your forehead. "Now no one will have any doubts about who your 'escort' is tonight." He smirked, and you dragged him in front of the bungalow’s mirror to capture the moment.
Niki huffed, pretending to be annoyed by your need for photos, but as soon as you positioned yourself, he stepped behind you. You felt his heat at your back, and with one hand, he gently lifted your chin, forcing you to look up, while with the other, he tilted the hat to create a small, private shadow between you, partially obscuring the phone’s frame. Then, just as the flash went off, he kissed your cheek and he knew one of those photos would end up as his phone’s wallpaper.
The warm lights danced on the dark surface of the lake, creating a magical atmosphere, and the air was thick with the familiar scent of campfires burnt wood, caramel popcorn, and cotton candy sticking to the kids’ fingers as they ran around, laughing and playing.
You and Lia had taken dozens of photos that looked like they’d come straight from a 2016 Tumblr feed: posing on a hay bale, holding a slice of pizza so big it covered half your torso, laughing with your teeth clamped around the rim of a red plastic cup, always looking back at the camera with flushed cheeks. At one point, you’d even herded a group of kids into the photo booth, helping them put on giant star-shaped glasses or fake mustaches until the line was empty and just as you stepped out of the booth, still giggling from your last "diva pose" with Lia, you saw Niki’s massive figure standing in front of you, arms crossed, that crooked half-smile that annoyed you but also sent a thrill through you.
"Have you two finished monopolizing the photo booth? There are other people who’d like to take some memories home, you know," he said, looking between you and Lia. Lia, never one to back down, pulled you closer.
"Oh yeah, Niki? And who exactly would you want to take pictures with? It’s not like you’ve become best friends with anyone here in the last three months!" she teased. He rolled his eyes, but his gaze never left your flushed face.
"Lia, there’s only one person in this entire camp I’d want a photo with, and that’s your best friend. So scram, please."
Lia grinned knowingly when she heard that, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. "Damn, this guy finally marked his territory. Thank God for that storm… you two were exhausting to watch—24/7 of teasing with zero payoff! Even the best K-dramas don’t have that much slow burn!" But before she disappeared into the crowd, she winked at you and mimed a "go for it" gesture with her fingers, reminding you of the pact you’d made: no thoughts for tomorrow just live in the present.
Niki took your hand, his warm fingers intertwining perfectly with yours, and nodded toward the photo booth entrance. The tiny plastic cubicle was clearly designed for kids, not a guy who was nearly six-foot-three. Niki went in first, muttering under his breath as his head nearly hit the ceiling. He sat on the swivel stool, leaving barely any room for you. As you hesitantly tried to perch on the edge of the seat, he grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap.
"Sit here," he ordered, patting his thighs. You hesitated, and he huffed against your skin.
"Come on, Shorty, stop pretending to be some innocent girl. You’ve sat on these legs in way less chaste ways than this, and we both know it." He chuckled, and your cheeks burned as he settled you sideways on his knees. One hand slid up your bare leg, squeezing lightly, while the other rested on your exposed side, his thumb tracing hypnotic circleson your skin.
"Pick the filter, Shorty, but do it for two strips
one’s mine, and the other’s yours," he said. You nodded, not realizing that even choosing a filter would turn into a playful fight.
"Let’s do the one with the little stars! It’s cute!" you suggested, pressing the option.
"Stars? Wren, I have a reputation to uphold. We’re not middle schoolers—go with the black minimalist one," he argued, trying to nudge your finger away from the screen.
"Your reputation died the day you learned how to braid Nina’s hair. Deal with it!" you teased, and after two minutes of bickering and playful shoves, you settled on the most basic option: a vertical filmstrip border with four shots, ten seconds apart.
First photo: The countdown started, and you exchanged an amused glance, bursting into spontaneous, slightly shy laughter as you looked at each other, Niki holding you tight, you trying not to fall off the stool.
Second photo:
You turned and kissed his cheek, and Niki rolled his eyes with a fake indifferent expression as if your kiss on his face(not even his lips!) didn’t affect him. But the way his hand tightened on your side told a different story.
Third photo:
The mood had shifted. Niki gently moved your French braid aside, exposing your neck, and you locked eyes intensely. There was nothing shy about your faces now—close, hungry, his gaze full of possession, as if he wanted to make it clear that he was all you’d ever need.
Fourth photo:
Just as the flash went off for the last time, Niki closed the distance, capturing your lips in a real, deep, possessive kiss just like him. He loved making it clear to everyone that you were his, and the photo captured it perfectly: you with your eyes closed, his hands pulling you even closer, his cowboy hat tilted slightly backward.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, now knowing he was your safe harbor, your fingers sinking into his messy blond hair at the nape of his neck. The photo booth felt even smaller with how close you were, and Niki didn’t waste a second. His hands settled firmly on your hips, his thumbs tracing small designs on the bare skin exposed by the cut of your top.
When your lips parted in a soft moan, he took it as an invitation, and his tongue slid into your mouth, claiming you. You let out a vibrant sound, and if anyone had been outside, they would’ve heard it but honestly, you didn’t care anymore. In that moment, there was only you two, lost in a mix of submission and longing that made Niki’s muscles tense as he felt you so close. You tried to shift, seeking even more intimate contact between your bodies, but he held you firmly in place, his grip on your hips pinning you to his lap, as if to say he was the one setting the pace—even in there.
When the photo strip finally slid out, the mechanical sound of the machine seemed to bring you back to reality. Niki snatched it quickly, almost fearful that someone else might see it. You both fell silent, staring at that last shot, the kiss captured by the flash was real, unfiltered. It looked so authentic that maybe, in that moment, Niki realized he’d found his person and he’d never expected it to be you.
"Fuck," he whispered against your lips, and you caressed the slightly rough skin of his jaw, where the stubble was just starting to grow. You bit your lip, still tasting him, and felt a flicker of anxiety creeping in because in a few hours, everything might change.
"Do… do you want to stay at the party, or go back to the bungalow?" you murmured, lowering your gaze and starting to nervously twist the end of your braid between your fingers. Niki watched you in silence. He knew, he could read every tic, every hesitation in you. He knew you were feeling uncertain, and he lifted your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look into his eyes darker than ever under the neon lights of the booth.
"Why do you want to go back to the bungalow? Aren’t you having fun out here, wren? You’ve been excited about this party for weeks, and now you want to leave already?"
"Everything’s perfect out here," you started, trying to find the right words, not wanting to seem embarrassed by what you were about to say. "But I… I’d like to spend the last night alone. I mean… completely alone. In our bungalow and we could… I don’t know…" You gestured between the two of you, and Niki lifted your chin with his finger, forcing you to meet his gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. He silenced you, pressing a finger to your lips.
"You’re overthinking, Wren. Tell me what you really want… no beating around the bush." He watched you with eyes that were almost glossy with a new determination, mixed with shyness? But Niki wanted to hear you say it.
"I want you to be mine tonight… and me to be yours," you said, starting to nervously fidget with one of the silver rings on his finger. After dropping that bomb, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid he might push you awayor mock you but Niki visibly swallowed, not expecting such a blunt answer from you, it wasn’t like you at all. For a moment, the Niki from the start of summer disappeared, replaced by a guy who looked almost dazed by the luck of having met you.
"Are… are you sure, Y/n?" he asked, his voice almost timid, which made you slightly doubt the guy in front of you. "You know that if we cross that threshold tonight… there’s no going back."
You nodded firmly, intertwining your hand with his, taking the initiative to stand up. Niki sighed deeply, running his other hand through his hair in a gesture of pure agitation because in that moment, he didn’t know if he should feel like the luckiest guy on the planet or the most terrified at the idea of not being worthy of your first time, of not being gentle enough or unforgettable enough for you. He was afraid of ruining everything you’d built over those summer months.
"Are you 100% sure, Wren?" His voice was rough as he hovered over you, his forearm muscles tense from the effort of not pressing too hard against your body.
You rolled your eyes with fake exasperation at his question. "Green, lime green, eater green…" you listed, naming every shade you could think of, and Niki shook his head with a crooked smile.
"You’re such a little brat, you know that?" he murmured, pulling you in for a quick kiss before his hands slid decisively toward your hips. When the button of your jeans popped open and the zipper slid down, the atmosphere in the room shifted drastically.
Niki pulled off your jeans, never taking his eyes off you. And when his gaze fell on the red lace of your semi-thong, his breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, he was completely thrown off by your lingerie. He ran a hand through his blond hair, messing it up even more, thinking about how innocent you must’ve seemed to everyone at camp… but not to him. Not after discovering what you read, what you wore to drive him wild. When he heard your voice, he snapped back to reality.
"Do you like it?" you whispered, enjoying his shock with a fake innocent look. Niki let out a sound that was half groan, half choked laugh.
"I didn’t think the 'good girl' of summer camp was hiding these kinds of secrets under her clothes. I knew about all those romance books you try to hide from me… but this, Y/N!"
His hand slid down your inner thigh, and the cold silver of his ring against your burning skin made you jolt violently. You wanted to tease him, drive him crazy.
"There’s a lot you still don’t know about me, Niki…" you stammered, trying to keep a shred of composure. He closed his eyes for a second he’d figured out the game you were playing.
"And what would those be?" he challenged.
"Let’s find out together, shall we?" you replied.
Niki shifted, kneeling between your legs with a slowness that was pure torture. He grabbed your ankle and brought it almost to his face, then began kissing your skin, starting from your ankle, moving up your calf to the curve of your knee. Every kiss was almost torture for you because he was doing it on purpose, going so slow. Each touch was like a brand, alternating kisses with light sucks, and when he reached your thigh, his kisses became deeper, more insistent, leaving a tingling sensation that spread through your entire body.
When he buried his face in the inside of your thigh, the heat of his hot breath made you arch your back.
"Niki… stop teasing me," you pleaded.
But he didn’t listen. His kisses alternated with playful nips on the tenderest part of your thigh, followed by slow licksthat made you lose all sense of direction.
"Higher…" you whispered without thinking, and Niki froze, lifting his gaze to you with a serious look.
"Since when do you get to give me orders, Wren?" he asked, kissing you just one centimeter higher, driving you mad because that was his intent. From the first moment he’d seen you, he’d wanted to get inside your head, and he was succeeding.
"Please… Niki, don’t make me wait like this, you’re driving me crazy…" you stammered, your hands clawing at the sheets to keep from grabbing him directly. He chuckled, satisfied with his effect on you, and lifted your leg even higher. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed your clit hard through the thin veil of black lace, laughing softly.
"Damn it…" you cursed through your teeth, arching your back and digging your fingers into his hair, not knowing if you wanted to pull him deeper or push him away because you didn’t even know yourself. It was definitely calculated torture, what he was doing to you, and you responded by squirming beneath him.
"You’re a bastard, take this off and touch me for real!"
But Niki didn’t care about your urgency. He wanted to hear you beg, wanted to see how far your resistance would go before he made you completely his. So he let go of your leg but didn’t return to loom over you with his full weight. Instead, he crawled up your body with the same slowness as a predator, leaving a trail of fire with his kisses. He started at the elastic edge of your lace, then your navel, moving up your stomach where your muscles twitched involuntarily at every touch of his tongue. When he reached your breasts, he paused to admire them in the dim light, as if he hadn’t already memorized every inch of you, while your uneven, pleading breaths lift
He leaned down with surgical precision, capturing your hardened nipple between his lips. The contrast was delicious and intoxicating you’d never felt anything like it before. The wet heat of his mouth against your skin, and his cold, silver-ringed hand sliding up to squeeze and tease your other breast, made you even more pliable under his touch. You moaned his name a sound Niki loved hearing from your lips as your fingers tightened in his blond hair, pulling him deeper.
He sensed your impatience and chuckled right against your sensitive skin, making your chest vibrate. Then he dragged his teeth over the tip of your nipple before blowing a cool breath over it, making you jolt violently. But you had no intention of just lying there. You wanted him to feel the same burning need you were feeling. So you hooked your legs around his hips, pulling him into your personal space, and began moving your hips instinctively, grinding your lace-covered intimacy against the hard, unmistakable bulge of his jeans.
Niki froze for a second, caught off guard. But when he realized your movements weren’t accidental, that you were deliberately seeking friction against his length, trying to drive him wild, he stiffened.
"Fuck, Wren… stop moving like that if you don’t want me to lose control before I even take my clothes off," he growled, his voice low. But you didn’t stop. If anything, you pushed harder, chasing that heat that seemed like the only thing capable of extinguishing the fire inside you. And when he finally matched your rhythm, pushing back against you in a synchronized motion, a simultaneous moan escaped both your lips.
"Please…" you whispered, almost without realizing it. Niki lifted himself a few centimeters, surprised to hear you begging him for something.
"What are you begging for, Wren? A month ago, you couldn’t even stand to breathe the same air as me in this room. And now? What are you begging for?" he asked, challenging you with his gaze. But you looked back at him, unafraid to show just how much you wanted him.
"You couldn’t stand me as a roommate either, and yet here you are, worshipping my body like it’s your only religion. So stop talking, Niki, because we’ve teased each other all summer, and I think it’s time to let all this electricity explode—the kind everyone saw except us."
After your answer, Niki didn’t waste another second. With a fluid motion, he grabbed the edges of your thong, his patience was completely gone. He pulled your panties off in one sharp motion, letting them slide down your legs and leaving you completely bare beneath him. When his gaze fell on your glistening, swollen intimacy, a victorious grinspread across his face. He felt like a king—the first to see you like this, the first to possess your vulnerability. And he knew the mark he’d leave on you tonight would be indelible, because only he would have you like this.
"Where’s the girl who was talking too much a minute ago?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched you look away in embarrassment.
"She’s still here, Niki… don’t count your chickens just yet," you shot back, trying to reclaim a shred of dignity as you spread your legs for him. That gesture drove him wild with desire. He grabbed your thighs and hoisted them onto his shoulders, leaving you completely exposed and at his mercy. Then he leaned in, and his hot tongue flicked against your clit in one swift motion. You moaned at the sensation of his tongue against your core.
"God, Wren… are you still this sensitive?" he chuckled against your skin, feeling how you trembled. "It’s not the first time tonight—you should be used to my mouth by now."
"Just… just shut up!" you cursed, but his only response was to intertwine his hand with yours, pressing it firmly against the mattress. That gesture...so intimate and protective in the middle of all this lust made your heart beat harder than anything else, because Niki could act like a jerk, but when it came to you, he became almost someone else.
His other hand held your hip in place while his tongue began to work in perfect figure-eights, pressing insistently on the tip of your clit.
"I need to prepare you, Wren," he murmured between kisses against your folds. "If you want me to slide my cock inside you without hurting you, you need to be ready to take me."
You nodded frantically, unable to form coherent sentences. And when you felt his index finger tease your entrance, coating itself in your arousal before pushing in slowly, you felt so good, yet so protected by him because in that moment, you were trusting each other completely.
"Look how well you take this… and it’s just one finger. Yet here you are, already begging for more with those moans of yours, huh? You’re just a spoiled little girl who’s discovered how good it feels to be ruined by me." He smirked, and you moaned loudly as he began pumping his finger inside you, filling you in a way that made you feel complete yet starving for more and when he decided you could handle it, he slid his middle finger in as well.
The impact was shocking, you felt the cold edge of his silver ring against the hot, sensitive flesh of your lips, and you screamed, arching your back and clenching your legs around his face, swallowing his fingers up to the knuckle. The contrast between the icy metal and the fire inside you made you lose your mind.
"Niki… oh God, the ring… it’s… it’s too much," you stammered but Niki looked up at you from below, his lips glistening with your arousal, and pushed harder, coordinating the movement of his fingers with his tongue, which continued to torment your clit. When you started to cry from the intensity of pleasure, he froze for a second, doubting if he’d hurt you but then he heard your words.
"I’m… I’m about to come… Niki, please, don’t stop!"
He relaxed, and a predatory smile lit up his face. "Fuck, it’s so hot watching you cry while you beg me to make you come." He curved his fingers inside you, and you, overwhelmed by the double stimulation, pulled his hair with desperate force, clawing at the sheets with your other hand as the climax swept over you. The final contrast, his tongue, his fingers, and that cold metal made you explode against his mouth in a violent orgasm that left you trembling and spent, coming against both his mouth and his fingers.
"Fuck… that’s my good girl," Niki murmured.
When Niki pulled away from you, you swallowed hard. He leaned in again to give you a soft, lingering kiss, charged with the weight of what you were about to do, and asked:
"Are you 100% sure about this?" His voice was low, his fingers stroking your hair. You stayed silent for a moment, and those few seconds of hesitation felt like an eternity to Niki. But then you found the words, and he relaxed.
"Right now, there are no red lights, Niki. No orange warnings either," you whispered, echoing what he had taught you the first time he’d seen you naked and touched you.
"For me, everything is completely green right now… I… I want… I want to be yours." Your voice trembled, tears pricking at your eyes. Niki reached out, caressing your cheek with his thumb. His eyes were glistening too, and a crooked, moved smile lit up his face.
"I want to be yours too, Wren. Today, tomorrow, for the weeks to come, for the next months… and who knows how much longer."
With fingers still slightly trembling, you brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "Niki… are you, by any chance, declaring yourself?"
He huffed with a half-embarrassed smile that tinted his cheeks a soft pink. "Fuck, you… you’ve made me soft too many times these past weeks, especially right now," he admitted, shaking his head, almost incredulous at the power you had over him.
"So… is it green for you too?" you asked, watching him closely. Niki’s eyes widened, he hadn’t expected you to ask for his confirmation too, but it was a mutual respect you’d found in each other. Then he smiled softly.
"Lime green, Tiffany green… I don’t even remember how many other kinds of green there are… but yes, it’s super green right now."
Your hands slid downward, meeting the buckle of his belt. With a determined but clumsy motion, you unclasped it, letting it fall somewhere on the floor. Niki didn’t waste time, he shimmied out of his jeans in quick movements, tossing them aside. When he leaned over you again, the contact between his erection, still covered by the thin fabric of his boxers, and your already sensitive, pulsing intimacy wrung a muffled moan from both of you.
"Take them off yourself, Y/N," he murmured. With fingers that refused to stay still, you played with the waistband of his boxers, sliding your hands up his hips before pulling them down. And when your eyes finally met his full nudity, his rosy, tense shaft already glistening with pre-cum, your pupils dilated with a mix of shock and desire at how big and thick he was. Niki closed his eyes, groaning.
"This… well, this is what you do to me, Y/N."
"Is that… a good thing?" you asked in a whisper, almost seeking confirmation of the power you felt over him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, chuckling softly.
"Yeah, it’s a great thing, Wren. Except when we’re in public and I can’t do anything about it."
Without asking for permission, you reached out and touched him, wrapping your hand around his hot, taut skin. You felt his breath catch instantly.
"I… there’ll be other opportunities where you can tease me like this… or where you can be on top of me," he stammered, trying to keep control as his muscles tensed under your touch. "But fuck, Y/N, if I’m not inside you in the next few minutes, I’m gonna come like some inexperienced kid. And I want your first time to be perfect." He almost laughed, and you nodded.
You watched as he reached toward the nightstand and grabbed a silver square a condom. "Don’t think the worst, it’s not mine," he said immediately, as if he needed to justify himself to avoid seeming presumptuous. "I asked someone I trust for it earlier and don’t think I planned this, or that I took you for granted...."
But you gently placed a hand over his lips, silencing him. You wanted him to know that his thoughtfulness meant more than he realized.
"Shut up, Niki. You’ve never pressured me into anything. In fact, I appreciate that you thought about protection. I’m not on the pill, and I want to do this safely."
He nodded, visibly relieved, and with expert but quick fingers, he tore open the condom. You, driven by curiosity, tried to help, but he gently shook his head, stopping your hands.
"Next time, I’ll teach you how, I promise… but we only have one, and I need to feel you as mine so badly that I can’t risk messing this up." His voice was urgent as he positioned himself above you.
Niki positioned himself with painstaking slowness between your legs, lifting your hips slightly with a pillow to ease the union. His eyes never left yours, searching for that final silent "yes." When you nodded, he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep kiss as his hips pushed gently against your entrance.
Feeling the tip of his cock tease your sensitivity wrung a moan of pure desire from you.
"I’ll stop immediately if it hurts, Y/N. Don’t be afraid or embarrassed to tell me, okay?" he whispered, his concern melting your heart, you’d never have imagined the guy you met over three months ago could be this tender with you.
"Please… I want to be yours," you breathed, your voice ragged. Niki didn’t need to be told twice. With a slow, controlled thrust, he slid inside you, and you both moaned in unison him from the heat enveloping him, you from the unfamiliar fullness you’d never felt before.
"Fuck… you’re so tight, it’s driving me crazy," he groaned through clenched teeth, feeling how snugly you clenched around him.
"It’s… it’s so big, Niki," you whispered, eyes wide. He looked at you with a mix of pride and worry, kissing the tip of your nose.
"I’m sorry, baby… I’ll try to be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re gripping me so tight it’s hard to stay still."
He paused for a few moments inside you, letting your body adjust to his size. You could feel every millimeter of him, and soon, driven by an irresistible instinct, you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer. Niki cursed again:
"God, Y/N… you’re making it impossible to keep any self-control." He tried not to hurt you, but you begged:
"You can move… please, move."
Niki pulled back slightly, then, without warning, pushed in almost fully, and you clung to his shoulder as you felt the walls of your vagina stretch to accommodate him completely. It burned—it was an intense stretch but the sensation of finally being "filled" by him overpowered any pain your body had ever felt.
When he felt you slowly relax, he began to move, first with caution, then with growing fervor. His shaft slid perfectly inside you, lubricated by your own desire, and with every deep thrust, the sound of your bodies colliding and your moans filled the room.
Your hands sought his hair, pulling him closer as your nails left red marks on his bare back every time he took you harder. Niki nipped at your neck a possessive gesture that made you lose your mind.
"Please, Niki! Don’t… don’t stop," you pleaded, now lost in pleasure, feeling how warmly you welcomed him, how your legs clenched around him. Niki decided to change the angle and shifted slightly on the bed, rolling you onto your side.
"Niki, where are you going? What are you doing?" you stammered, eyes glazed, your breath ragged with a mix of lust and panic.
"Trust me, Wren… I’ll make you feel good," he replied with a knowing smile. Niki slid one arm under your back, pulling you even closer, while his other hand grabbed your thigh, lifting it decisively over his hip. In that position, the angle changed drastically, his cock slid even deeper, reaching spots you didn’t even know were so sensitive. You felt his shaft press with surgical precision against your G-spot, and the pleasure was so sharp that you buried your face against his neck, biting his hot skin to keep from screaming too loudly—afraid someone might hear.
"More, Niki… more, please!" you begged between moans, your nails digging into his shoulders. He didn’t need to be asked twice. Feeling how completely at his mercy you were, he intensified his thrusts: he began alternating short strokes, making you feel only the tip entering and exiting, tormenting your pussy, before plunging deep and powerful, stealing your breath. He felt like he was in heaven as your vagina clenched around him divinely, as if it had been made just for him. But it wasn’t enough, while he continued to claim you, he slid his free hand between your bodies and began stimulating your clit with his thumb.
"Niki… fuck, it’s too much! I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come!" you cried, arching your back as the pleasure became almost unbearable from how divinely his cock slid inside you. He began whispering dirty, sweet words to make you lose all control.
"It’s not too much, Wren. It’s exactly what you deserve. Look at me while you come for me… look how beautiful you are while I take you like this." He lifted your chin, and you wrapped your other leg around his hip, erasing every millimeter of space between you.
"You’re so good, my little Wren… look how well you take all of me, look how you tremble for me."
You nodded, completely overwhelmed, until a second violent orgasm swept over you for the second time that night. The muscles of your vagina contracted rhythmically around him, milking him, and Niki groaned loudly, thrusting even deeper.
"That’s my good girl," he whispered, kissing you fiercely. You thought he was done, that your climax marked the end, but Niki hadn’t released his tension yet. With renewed fervor, he began fucking you again in that position, and the sound of his cock slamming into your pussy was the only thing filling the room, along with your breaths and moans. Then, suddenly, Niki’s muscles tensed he was coming too.
"Fuck, Y/N… I’m about to… I’m coming too," he stammered, eyes wide. You burst into tears at how stimulating it was to see him come, and as you felt Niki unload all his cum in hot spurts inside the condom, he stayed inside you for minutes, still, his chest rising and falling frantically. It was beautiful to still feel him inside, to feel his heat slowly calming, and he began stroking your entire body with infinite tenderness as you snuggled against his chest as if it were your only refuge.
"It was… it was beautiful," you whispered softly. Niki lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on your sweat-dampened forehead. "Was it too much? Did I hurt you?" he asked, a hint of concern in his eyes. But you shook your head.
"It was unreal," you replied, making him smile in relief.
"I’m glad your first time was with me, Wren. And that you trusted me… even though I know I don’t exactly have a spotless reputation," he admitted, with a touch of melancholy that vanished as soon as you pulled him into a tighter embrace. With extreme slowness, he pulled out of you with a sigh, and you watched as he got up gracefully, removing the condom and tossing it in the trash before lying back down beside you, pulling you back into his arms.
The only sounds in the room were the rhythm of your breaths slowly returning to normal and, in the background, the muffled beat of the music still playing outside the summer camp. Niki lay beside you, his arm pressed against yours, and you could feel the cold metal of his rings absentmindedly playing with your fingers a nervous gesture that betrayed how shaken he still was.
When you lifted your gaze, you realized he hadn’t stopped staring at you, his expression unreadable. Curious as you were, you wanted to know what was going through his mind.
"Do… do I have something on my face?" you asked softly, suddenly feeling naked under his intense gaze. Niki shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.
"What’s on your mind?" you asked, stroking his cheek with your thumb. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the touch he loved so much, and said:
"I have so many things running through my head right now that I don’t even know how to act with you in this moment… I feel… strange, but in a good way."
You nodded and whispered, trying to reassure him: "You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, Niki."
"What we just did was beautiful… I hope you know how much I trust you… and I hope that, despite my lack of experience, it was special for you too." You said it, fearing for a second that you might have been "not enough" for him because you knew he’d had more experience. At those words, Niki seemed to snap out of it and turned fully toward you, hovering over your body without crushing you, and wrapped you in a protective embrace, burying his face against your neck as if afraid of being discovered or maybe just afraid of the new reality you both found yourselves in for the first time.
"Don’t joke around, fuck… it was amazing from start to finish. I’d do it with you forever… don’t think or compare yourself to anyone else," he murmured, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin.
"Wren, I can’t keep pretending to be detached anymore… I… I… I like you so damn much." He said it against your neck, but he was seriously afraid of sounding like a fool in that moment. You chuckled softly, stroking his sweaty hair.
"I like you too, Niki. I think even the walls of this bungalow have figured it out by now." You said, and he lifted himself onto his arms, looking at you with almost frustration.
"No, fuck, that’s not what I wanted to say! It’s not just 'I like you.' It’s just that I… I…"
Seeing his struggle, you gently placed a hand over his lips, stopping the internal conflict you could read on his face, and said naturally: "I love you, Niki."
Niki’s eyes widened, and he froze, as if you’d just thrown down a challenge with those words. The silence lasted a second too long, and you seriously feared he wouldn’t say it back or would pull away from you. But then he scoffed loudly, letting his head fall back.
"Damn it! I was supposed to say it first, Y/N! You beat me to it!" he exclaimed, visibly annoyed with himself. You shrugged with a sly little smile.
"Well, you could’ve been faster." You teased, laughing, and he replied:
"I love you too, Wren. In case it wasn’t obvious from the way I look at you or from how I’m currently trying not to look like an idiot." He said it as he couldn’t stop touching you, a new light shining in his eyes. You pulled him back to you, enjoying the warmth of his chest against yours.
"I’m happy to hear you say it. It was a little embarrassing watching you suffer so much trying to spit out those two words!"
He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop smiling. "Oh yeah, very funny. I’ll get my revenge, just you wait."
And he started kissing you everywhere—your chin, your cheeks, the tip of your nose—whispering "I love you" every time his lips touched your skin, as if it were now easier to say it spontaneously.
"I’m really glad they put us in the same room together," he finally said, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling you in for a serious kiss. "It was the best thing that could’ve happened to us."
"Definitely," you replied, laughing in his arms, finally feeling completely at home.
Hey, would anyone want to make a banner for the next story I'd like to write? It would be on Jay and of course I would give the credits on both the story preview and the story!!💗
*synopsis: Montana is the state where the most beautiful summer camps of all are held, every year hundreds of children couldn't wait to spend three months away from their families to stay at a summer camp cooking marshmallows, hiking the various nature trails, and swimming in the campus's natural pools. You too had been through all these experiences from your 10s until you were 15 and now that you were of age you would have become an entertainer but you hadn't counted on something that would be on summer campus too Niki, Niki was the classic “bad boy” of the town with all the girls at his feet and with petty crimes caused as a ‘joke’. But what if Niki had to be sent to work as an entertainer on summer campus for “punishment” and you, the classic good girl with zero experience in boys, had to share a room with him? A disaster from day one you can't get along with him but between bonfires with marshmallows, dives in ice water and confessions under the stars maybe the idea of spending 3 months on summer campus with Niki wasn't so bad
*word count: 34k
*tags: At first Y/n and Niki can't stand each other, they love teasing each other, first kiss (many kisses) fluffy, Niki may seem a little bit of an asshole but then becomes obsessed but in a good way with Y/n, masturbation, discovery of spicy books, loss of virginity (protected sex) there will be misunderstandings, jealousy, +18, tattoo kisses, love statement, pet names (good girl, wren)
The sky above Camp Montana was a blue so deep it almost looked unreal, the mountains in the distance veiled by a soft haze. The chirping of birds lulled you into relaxation, while the gentle lapping of waves against the shore in front of the common room’s porch gave the place an air of tranquility, though in just a few hours, it would transform into a bustling summer camp, teeming with kids eager to find their cabins and meet the friends who would share the secrets of a summer unlike any other.
Camp Montana was one of the most famous summer camps in the stat and beyond with hundreds of kids signing up months in advance for an unforgettable experience. As a child, you were one of them: not just another little girl with dirt-streaked braids and scraped knees, but now, an animator. You wore the iconic red Camp Montana hoodie, the eagle emblem emblazoned on the chest, your name stitched beside it. Your jeans bore the camp’s logo, and you carried all the gear and perks that came with the role, everything you’d dreamed of as a kid.
Back then, this place was pure magic. You’d spend nights by the campfire under a sky full of stars, sticky fingers wrapped around half-burnt marshmallows. You’d race through the woods with your friends, laughter echoing across the lake as you leaped from inflatables into the water. It was the place where you dreamed of growing up, of wearing that hoodie, of being loved by the kids just like your favorite animators—women you still remembered fondly.
But now? Now, Camp Montana was different. Now, there were responsibilities of every kind: comforting homesick children, reassuring worried parents over the phone, pulling night shifts to make sure no one snuck out of the cabins. There were judgmental glances from the other animators, whispers, and gossip slithering between the bungalows. You’d expected a peaceful summer, but life had other plans. Maybe fate was playing a cruel trick on you—or perhaps, the most beautiful one of your life.
The common room at Camp Montana was a massive wooden space, its walls covered in faded photos of summers past, some of them featuring you, with your childhood braids and braces. Colorful flags hung from the ceiling, each one signed with the names of past animators. The air was thick with the scent of coffee, freshly baked butter cookies, and burning wood. On one side, there were industrial kitchens and long tables where chaotic, noisy meals were served every day. On the other hand, a small loft where the camp president a man in his sixties with a stern, gray-bearded face was outlining the rules on a flip chart, rules that would govern the next three months, especially the ones animators were forbidden to break.
Lia, one of your closest friends: someone you’d spent countless summers with at camp, sat beside you, legs crossed, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she read aloud the "Forbidden Things for Camp Animators" written in bold red on the board:
FORBIDDEN THINGS FOR CAMP ANIMATORS:
Swimming in the lake after 10:00 PM (seriously dangerous without a lifeguard on duty).
Alcohol or drugs (zero tolerance anyone caught using drugs will be expelled immediately).
Outside guests (no bringing in boyfriends/girlfriends).
Smoking in common areas (there are two designated smoking zones—check the camp maps).
Public arguments (keep your drama private, not in front of the kids).
Abandoning your shift (if you’re on duty, you stay on duty until your shift ends).
Bringing weapons (this is a summer camp—parents expect their kids to be safe).
Damaging nature (we’re here to teach kids to respect the environment—no cutting trees, littering, etc.).
You studied the rules carefully. Most of them were reasonable, but Lia didn’t seem to agree.
"Listen to this, Y/n," she whispered, pointing at the first rule. "‘No swimming in the lake after 10:00 PM.’ Pfft! We all did it! Remember when we used to sneak out at night and dive in, then run back screaming like maniacs?" She giggled, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing. Yes, even though you’d always been seen as the "good girl," the studious one, you’d had your share of rebellious moments at 16 or 17—moments you now carried in your heart.
"Yeah, but we’re animators now, Lia," you reminded her, nudging her gently. "We’re here to work, have fun, and most importantly set a good example for the kids."
Lia rolled her eyes. "Oh, please! Give it a week, and 99% of us will have broken every single rule. Look around, half these people are just here to escape their parents, hook up in the bungalows, and have a summer they’ll tell their future kids about in a few years."
Before you could respond, the door to the common room swung open. It couldn’t be the kids, they weren’t arriving yet. Instead, what you saw—what everyone saw—was a head of bleached-blond hair with dark roots, broad shoulders, and a towering height of at least 1.95 meters. His expressive eyes and lips were the kind every girl in the room would dream of kissing. Niki because that’s who it was ducked slightly to fit through the doorway, as if even the entrance had to adjust for him. He walked toward the group of animators with an arrogant confidence that sent shivers down spines, and every girl in the room gasped:
"Oh my God..."
"Is that....?"
"It can’t be him."
You turned away sharply, trying not to look, but Lia’s eyes widened, and she elbowed you. "What the hell is Niki doing here?!" she hissed, her voice a mix of shock and excitement. "Wasn’t he supposed to be doing community service for that mess with the stolen cars? Everyone knows he organized those illegal races during the Cowboy Festival!"
You shrugged, feigning indifference, even though your heart was pounding. Unfortunately, you knew Niki. You’d grown up in the same small town, gone to the same university, you studied child psychology while he leaned into the arts, photography, and drawing.
I have no idea," you muttered, biting your nail. "But one thing’s for sure: that guy is a walking disaster. He can’t be an animator here with all these kid —he’s a ticking time bomb."
Niki sat down two rows ahead of you, crossing his long legs with effortless nonchalance. You clenched your fists as he tilted his head slightly, his signature cowboy hat—now in a "baggy style"—shadowing his face. The president glared at him with open disdain, clearly afraid Niki would bring trouble to this little slice of paradise.
The president clapped his hands loudly and cleared his throat into the microphone. "Alright, now that all our camp animators have graced us with their presence, we can begin!" His voice was sharp, dripping with sarcasm. "As you know, every year, we pair you up for teams and bungalows. Each bungalow has two single beds, a small reading area, a mini kitchen, a bathroom, and a porch with a hammock. Some overlook the lake, others the mountains, and some are near the kids’ cabins. The pairs are mixed—it’s been a tradition for years, and we’ve never had issues with boys and girls sharing. You’re all adults and responsible, so I trust you’ll have a great time with your new roommate. Now, let’s announce the pairs!"
You glanced at Lia, who rested her head on your shoulder and smirked. "I’d bet anything we’re rooming together, but we both know that’s not happening." You nodded, already resigned. A murmur spread through the room.
"I’d pay gold to be paired with Niki!" a red-haired girl shrieked. "I want Keeho!" another yelled, eyeing the guy sitting next to Niki. "Joshua’s mine!" another chimed in, her English flawless.
You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever chaos was about to unfold.
The camp president scrolled through countless slides on the interactive whiteboard, and with each new slide, your stomach twisted tighter. For what felt like an eternity, your name and photo refused to appear. As anxiety clawed at you—like it always did—you started gnawing at the nail of your index finger, eyes locked on the screen. It was as if the blank slide delighted in torturing you, flashing one animator pairing after another, but never yours.
Then, your name blared through the speakers, just a little too loud.
"Y/n will be paired with Niki for the next three months in Bungalow 20," the president announced, his gaze almost pitying as it landed on you.
You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. There, on the screen, was your photo—smiling, the picture of the "girl next door"—paired with Niki’s. If you’d had a permanent marker, you would’ve drawn giant horns on his head and a ridiculous mustache over that smirking mouth of his. It was a low blow, no, a cruel joke from fate. The president must’ve had a twisted sense of humor, or maybe he was just a sadist, delighted at the thought of turning your summer into the worst one of your life.
Lia, your so-called best friend 'the traitor' started patting your head sympathetically, but it didn’t take long for her to dissolve into giggles.
"Well, look on the bright side," she whispered, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "If you survive three months living with him, your psychology thesis will write itself. Either that, or you’ll end up in the news as an accomplice in some illegal drift racing scandal. Either way, Y/n, you’ll be legendary."
You shot her a glare and buried your face in your hands, feeling your ears burn. "I hate you," you mumbled. "This is a nightmare. He’s literally the one person in all of Montana I wouldn’t even want to share an elevator with, let alone a bungalow for three months."
With that, you bolted up, grabbed your things, and stormed out, avoiding everyone’s eyes—especially his. You could feelNiki two rows ahead, smirking, that infuriating grin plastered on his face. You lugged your bags with a strength you didn’t know you had, marching toward the upper part of the camp until you reached Bungalow 19… and then, Bungalow 20.
And Bungalow 20 was objectively perfect.
If it weren’t for your soon-to-be roommate, you might’ve cried with joy. The bungalow sat on a small hill, its wooden porch complete with a hammock big enough for more than two people. The view of the lake was straight out of a National Geographic postcard, and the mountain ridges stretched across the horizon. You pouted at how beautiful Montana could be, then dragged your suitcase—heavy as if you’d packed a corpse inside up the steps and threw open the door to your new home.
The interior was cozy, with a scent of vanilla. On the table, two shiny new badges gleamed in the afternoon light, beside a basket of warm butter-vanilla cookies a welcome gift from the camp kitchen. Next to it, a letter with the camp’s official stamp and the president’s signature. You skimmed it:
The animator pairs hadn’t been chosen at random. No, the president had studied each of you carefully, spending days crafting the "perfect" pairings. You were cautious, level-headed, someone who hated lying and taking risks. Niki, on the other hand, was cunning, self-serving, and always looking for a challenge. "You’re the sun, and he’s the storm," the letter read. "You’ll balance each other out."
You couldn’t believe what you’d just read. You wanted to crumple the paper into a ball and hurl it into the lake, but you knew Niki would have to read it too. So, like the good girl you were, you slapped it back onto the table and shoved a cookie into your mouth, chewing angrily as you stormed into the bedroom.
The beds were too close: both queen-sized, separated only by a flimsy nightstand. You claimed the one by the window, thinking that if either of you stretched out an arm in the night, you’d probably touch. You shook your head, muttering to yourself as you unzipped your suitcase and started unpacking. For twenty minutes, the world almost felt normal. You could hear the distant sounds of other animators unpacking, laughter echoing from nearby bungalows, the gentle lapping of waves against the lake’s rocky shore, and the chirping of birds. Normally, these sounds would’ve soothed you.
But peace wasn’t going to last.
The bungalow door creaked open, and the thud of Niki’s leather duffel bag hitting the floor told you one thing: your peace was officially over. The longest three months of your life were about to begin.
He strode toward Bungalow 20, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes in that defiant, street-meets-prairie style of his. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how his life had turned into some cheesy teen movie. He and his friends had planned to leave Montana for a couple of months a road trip through California, Oregon, all the way up to Canada. But then, surprise, he’d been caught behind the wheel of a stolen, tricked-out car, drifting like an idiot after watching one of his best friends win the world rodeo championship. It had been a stupid move, and his parents had bailed him out—literally—paying his bond for the joyride with stolen cars. He’d expected to end up picking up trash on the side of the road or serving meals at a soup kitchen. Instead, fate had other plans.
And now here he was, strolling through a summer camp, sentenced to three months of untouched nature, suffocating rules, and an endless horde of screaming kids as a counselor. When the town—and his parents—had first suggested it, he’d laughed in their faces. Him, babysitting a bunch of rule-breaking brats (just like he’d been)? No thanks. But here he was, and the cherry on top of this absurd sundae? You.
You were the classic good girl of the town: mayor’s daughter, straight-A student, the kind of girl every mom dreamed of for their wayward sons. The thought of spending three goddamn months with you made him want to punch something. But at the same time, it intrigued him. Because even good girls had secrets, and he was dying to uncover yours.
When he pushed open the bungalow door, the contrast hit him like a slap. The air smelled of vanilla, butter, and cherry—sickeningly sweet, almost too clean, the exact opposite of his own scent of mint and spice, the kind that lingered even from a mile away. He dropped his duffel with a heavy thud onto the wooden floor. His eyes landed on the vanilla-butter cookies left by the kitchen staff, the note reading, "Made with all the love for our favorite new counselors." He rolled his eyes, then spotted the president’s letter. As he read it aloud, his expression shifted from shock to amusement. The letter praised you like some saint, while it described him as if he were a seven-headed monster. He shook his head, laughing at how surreal this whole situation was.
With half a cookie still in his mouth, he walked into the bedroom. You were bent over, meticulously arranging your tank tops with a precision that both irritated and fascinated him. He watched your wispy braids sway with every movement, and admitting it only to himself your body wasn’t half bad for someone who spent their life buried in books. The way your jeans hugged your hips, the way your tank top accentuated your chest—damn. He cleared his throat, unable to resist.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, his smirk promising nothing but trouble. "If it isn’t Miss Braids herself...my roommate for the next three months."
You whipped around, glaring at him with a look that could’ve incinerated anyone else on the spot.
"Oh, joy," you snapped, your voice sharp as a blade. "I’m thrilled to share a room with a two-bit delinquent."
Niki chuckled, reaching out to brush his fingers over the cover of one of your classic novels Wuthering Heights, some psychological thriller he’d never even heard of. "Looks like even the library mouse knows all about my life."
You crossed your arms, lifting your chin in defiance. "I couldn’t care less about your life. In fact, the less I hear about it, the better. But we do live in a small town where gossip spreads, and unfortunately, my dad’s the mayor, so I’ve had to listen to more about your stupid antics than I’d like."
You took him in, your lips curling into a slight pout. Niki had an undeniable aura intimidating, yet magnetic. He was the kind of guy you didn’t forget easily, and that annoyed you even more.
Niki sighed, ignoring your jab, and flopped onto his bed. The wooden frame groaned under his weight—all 6’5” of muscle and arrogance seemed almost too much for the half-queen mattress. He stretched lazily, the movement hitching his oversized hoodie up just enough to reveal a sliver of golden skin and the waistband of his Playboy boxers peeking out from his low-slung jeans. You knew Niki had his own style, and you couldn’t deny even to yourself—that it wasn’t entirely unappealing. Your eyes flickered there for just a millisecond, and he caught it. A victorious smirk spread across his lips.
"Your parents are gonna lose it when they find out their sweet little angel has to share a room with a ‘criminal’ for three months," he mused, touching his lips thoughtfully, shattering the brief peace.
You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. "They trust me and I won’t do anything reckless...or wrong in your presence."
You crossed your arms tighter beneath your chest, a defensive gesture that only drew Niki’s attention. In two quick strides, he closed the distance between you, towering over you with his imposing frame. The scent of spiced mint filled the air, thick and intoxicating.
"Mmm, we’ll see," he murmured, lowering his head near your ear. "If I were a parent, I wouldn’t be too comfortable knowing my daughter had to spend countless nights in my company, wren."
Your face flushed with anger and something else, something forbidden. You slapped his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric. "You’re just a lost cause, Niki and stop calling me wren!"
He let out a low, rough laugh as he headed toward the bathroom to unpack. "Never. We both know you’ll never outgrow me."
And there you stood, frozen in the middle of the room as the bathroom door clicked shut, your heart pounding, anger battling with an annoying, unwelcome rush of adrenaline.
A week had passed since the summer camp started, and if there were an award for patience, they should name a town square after you or better yet, erect an entire statue in your honor right in front of your hometown’s city hall. Sharing Bungalow 20 with Niki wasn’t just a challenge, it was a refined form of psychological torture. And for someone as naturally calm and patient as you, he made every day harder than the last.
Problem number one? Sleep. You loved slipping between the sheets at a decent hour—okay, maybe you were a little too fond of going to bed early. By 9 PM, you could already be drifting off to sleep, lulled by the sound of the stream outside. But Niki had other plans. Let’s just say he forgot to mention one tiny detail: he suffered from insomnia. Watching you fall asleep in five minutes flat had thrown him off because he was a night owl. He’d stay awake until 2 AM, whistling, spinning his phone between his fingers, or sketching with the music blasting. You’d politely suggested he could stay outside there were comfy puff chairs or even a hammock but he’d just smirked and said, "No thanks, I’d rather not get eaten by a bear."
And then there was the issue of tidiness. The word "order" didn’t exist in Niki’s vocabulary or maybe it did, but he took great pleasure in driving you insane. You weren’t a neat freak, but you at least tried not to turn the room into a refugee camp. The bungalow wasn’t huge just a wooden entrance table, a cushioned bench with big windows overlooking the clearing, a tiny sitting area, and an open space with your two beds and a bathroom (which, admittedly, was bigger than necessary, and you weren’t complaining about that).
Niki, on the other hand, scattered his oversized hoodies everywhere like he was marking his territory. And don’t even get started on his razors left on the sink. "For the two stray hairs on your face, you could at least put them away!" you’d yelled one morning, but he’d just flashed that infuriating smirk while shaving his cheek.
But the final straw was the ID card prank. Every counselor had to carry theirs to access camp areas, and one morning, yours had vanished—poof, like magic. You were in full-blown panic, tearing the place apart: under the bed, between books, in the bathroom, under the bench. Then Niki leaned against the doorframe, watching you huff and mutter, that annoying smile playing on his lips.
"Looking for this, Princess?" he asked, dangling the ID card from his index finger.
You lunged to grab it, but he lifted his arm, using all of his 195 centimeters to keep it out of reach. You glared as you hopped uselessly, trying to snatch it.
"You know," he murmured, letting you nearly collide with his chest as you jumped, "you should keep it somewhere safer… maybe pinned right here…" He tapped the neckline of your tank top with the edge of the card, watching your cheeks flush pink. He’d discovered he loved seeing your round cheeks turn every shade of red, and without another word, he draped it around your neck, letting it fall against your chest. Then he winked and disappeared into the kitchen.
But the incident that truly made you snap happened one late afternoon. You’d just returned to the bungalow after an exhausting day of supervising dozens of kids screaming on the lake’s inflatables, your hair a disaster and your legs shaking with fatigue. Without a care in the world, you flung the door open, only to freeze.
Sitting on Niki’s bed was a girl, one of the sports group counselors, laughing hysterically at something he’d said. She was practically straddling him. You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly popped out, your face turning as red as a bell pepper—not from embarrassment, but from pure, unadulterated rage. You shot the girl a look that could’ve killed a grizzly bear.
When Niki gestured for her to leave like she’d never been there, you pointed a finger at him and snapped:
"It’s incredibly disrespectful to bring random people into our bungalow, especially at this hour when you know I come back exhausted! I’m seriously tired, I just want to shower and sleep, and instead, I walk in to find you doing… who knows what with that girl!" You crossed your arms, glaring, and Niki pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at how furious you were. He sat up, running a hand through his blond hair, and looked at you with an amused grin.
"What’s wrong, Shorty? You’re not… jealous, are you? I didn’t know the mayor’s daughter cared so much about my free time."
You shot him your worst glare. "Jealous? Of you?!" you scoffed, pointing at him. "Right now, I’m furious, not jealous! If you’re going to bring girls in here whenever you feel like it, then starting tomorrow, I’ll bring a guy in too, no, I’ll bring a different one every night!" You gestured to the bungalow, and Niki stiffened instantly. His jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscles in his neck tighten, and his gaze darkened, almost dangerous but only for a second. The next moment, he burst into laughter, flopping backward onto the bed.
"Why the hell are you laughing?!" you demanded, even angrier, but he just stretched out, taking up the entire bed with his endless legs, and looked at you with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.
"Oh, this is rich! The girl with the braids—who I’m pretty sure has never been kissed in her life—wants to bring some random guy into our room! Go ahead, Y/n, you wouldn’t even know where to start."
Your cheeks burned a shade of red you’d never experienced before. Jabbing a finger at him, you hissed, "You don’t know the first thing about me, Niki!" Your voice trembled with indignation. You grabbed your robe and toiletries and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard the wooden walls of the bungalow shook.
Under the shower’s spray, you cursed him in every language you knew. But deep in your chest, your heart refused to calm down and you weren’t sure if it was from the insult or the way he’d looked at you when you’d mentioned bringing another guy in.
That morning, the soft Montana dawn light filtered through the curtains, bringing with it the usual chorus of birds and the steady murmur of the stream just a few meters from your bungalow. You would have given half your counselor’s salary to stay under the blankets for another ten minutes or maybe the whole morning because as a kid, you never truly realized how much work animators had behind the scenes. But duty called, and that week, you’d been assigned to fabric painting at 9:15 AM. So, with a lazy groan, you sat up, and just like every single morning since this nightmare began the first thing your eyes focused on was the occupant of the bed beside you.
Your gaze landed on Niki, a tangle of icy blond hair and heavy sighs. You noticed how his hair was slowly growing out, the dark roots of his natural color peeking through. His lips were slightly pouty in sleep, and he clutched the pillow beneath him like he was afraid someone might steal it. His thick eyebrows, usually furrowed in annoyance, were finally relaxed, making him look almost… innocent. Just a boy too big for a bed too small.
You knew he also had fishing duty at 9:15 AM, but after a week of stolen ID cards and jokes about how you embodied the "good girl" ideal, you decided your "act of kindness" would be letting him sleep. A wicked little smirk tugged at your lips as you thought, I could let him sleep… so he doesn’t wake up in time for the start of activities. You reached out to shake his shoulder but then stopped yourself. With a quiet chuckle, you muttered under your breath as you closed yourself in the bathroom, "Let him be late."
And so, you began your skincare ritual: slathering on pounds of sunscreen (because your skin had to stay flawless, even if you were going to sweat or get thrown into the water), adding a touch of self-tanner (since you still hadn’t achieved the exact shade of tan you wanted), and then pulling on your swimsuit, a T-shirt, athletic shorts, and braiding your hair as you finished, you noticed a stack of Post-its leaning against the mirror. You grabbed the pad and started decorating the bathroom mirror like it was a Christmas tree of warnings.
Green Post-it: I DON’T KNOW WHAT WORLD YOU LIVE IN, NIKI, BUT THERE’S SOMETHING CALLED A CLOSET FOR A REASON -> PUT YOUR HOODES IN THERE (Otherwise, the one on my chair is about to become a mop for the floor, and I don’t think you’d like that—especially since I know some of your hoodies cost as much as two months of our salary).
Blue Post-it: STOP PLAYING THOSE WAR GAMES AT 2 AM. Some people need to dream about things other than explosions and actually sleep peacefully. Try unplugging from those electronic gadgets and falling asleep to the sound of the stream and night crickets.
Yellow Post-it: TRY NOT TO USE MY SAKURA BODY WASH! I don’t think the scent of cherry blossoms helps your bad-boy reputation. What will the other girls think when they smell you reeking of girliness? They’ll just get even more jealous of me…
Orange Post-it: RAZORS HAVE A HOME. IT’S CALLED A ‘PERSONAL CABINET,’ NOT A ‘BATHROOM SINK DECORATION. Also, you’ve got, like, two stray hairs max, stop acting like you’re grooming a lion’s mane."
Pink Post-it: If you feel like breaking the next girl’s heart, don’t bring her into our room. I’d rather not see another girl leaving in tears because of you!
You checked the time: 8:15 AM. Niki hadn’t moved a millimeter, lost in a deep sleep that made him look almost… innocent. Almost, obviously. You grabbed the last Post-it before heading to breakfast and stuck it on the exit door. In your neat but determined handwriting, you wrote:
Oops, looks like your human alarm clock had a technical malfunction this morning or maybe just ‘forgot’ to share her air with you. Hope those five hours of sleep (well, six now) were enough, since you spend your nights doing everything but sleeping. I let you sleep, obviously, because I care’ and not at all because I wanted you to be late… (nope, not at all). Consider this my ‘welcome gift’… or maybe just proof that I can play dirty too, Niki. See you at the lake—if you can keep your eyes open and make it to roll call on time:)
Your favorite roommate:)
Niki was about to explode. He’d grown up with two other girls his age, and sure, there had been disagreements and fights, but you? You outdid them both. When his eyes finally opened and focused on the clock, his first thought wasn’t panic over being late it was a name spat like a curse between his teeth: "Y/n."
When he turned to see if you were still there, he found your bed perfectly made and rolled his eyes. He dragged himself out of bed, cursing you in every language he knew, because you two had an agreement or rather, you had established the rules, and he had grunted in assent, that you’d wake each other up but no, today you’d had the brilliant idea of leaving without calling him. And now, with twenty minutes until activities started, he was still in his boxers, his hair a wild mess.
He stumbled into the bathroom, tripping over one of his own hoodies left on the floor, only to find himself facing an explosion of colorful Post-its on the mirror. He grumbled under his breath as he splashed water on his face.
"She seriously took the time to write out all these stupid rules instead of waking me up?" he muttered through a mouthful of toothpaste foam, glaring at the green Post-it.
"Put away your hoodies… use my body wash… but look at this one..." he said, mimicking your voice and grabbing a cookie from the table while frantically searching for his ID card. The taste of chocolate clashed violently with the minty toothpaste, creating a disgusting mix, and he wondered how Sunoo, one of his best friends could stand that contrast.
Just as he was about to leave, he spotted the last Post-it on the door and read it twice, the cookie still between his teeth: "Because I ‘care’ and not at all because I wanted you to be late… (nope, not at all)."
Niki blinked, then let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a growl and an incredulous laugh.
"‘I care,’ huh?" he muttered to himself, glaring at the yellow paper. "You’re such a little liar, Shorty. You left me to rot in bed so that you could enjoy the show of me running around like an idiot."
He grabbed his ID card, adjusting his cowboy hat with a sharp motion, but his movements were less furious than before. There was a strange electricity humming under his skin. Obviously, that Post-it was a provocation of course it was but it was also glaring proof that the mayor’s daughter, the so-called "untouchable" girl, wasn’t just putting up with his presence. She was studying him. She knew how many hours he slept, that he played video games until 2 AM, and even that he used your body wash. She was paying way too much attention to him.
With a small smirk lighting up his gaze, he tucked the Post-it behind his phone case. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing it, but the idea of carrying a little piece of your neat handwriting with him appealed to him more than he wanted to admit.
And with that, he rushed off to the little ones’ fishing activity, fully intending to drive you just as crazy that day.
The weekend had finally arrived, and the atmosphere at Camp Montana had shifted. While most of the counselors were loading up their cars to escape to the nearest town, searching for parties, cocktails, or luxury hotel retreats to unwind, you had very different plans. The wildlife trail started just a 10-minute walk from the camp’s parking lot, and you were looking forward to two hours of hiking, surrounded by the scent of hay, sun-warmed trees, and the sun beating down on your skin. But what you were really looking forward to was a hearty plate of melted cheese with sausage and mushrooms, topped off with a wild berry panna cotta the meal you’d been dreaming about for days.
That night, you’d gone to bed more excited than usual, simply because you couldn’t wait to spend a day completely free of Niki. When you woke at dawn, the sky was still painted in soft violet hues, and the first birds were beginning to chirp. You stretched, instinctively turning toward Niki’s bed, expecting to see the usual tangle of blond hair and blankets strewn in every direction. But to your surprise, the bed was empty. Your heart gave a little leap, it was the first time you didn’t have to deal with his impossible schedule. That is, until you heard the water running.
You made a slightly confused face and thought to yourself, It’s seven in the morning, and he’s already up? Where is that guy even going? I hope he’s not up to something stupid.
With those questions swirling in your mind, you headed to the kitchen to make coffee, watching as the first rays of sunlight set the mountain peaks ablaze. A few moments later, Niki emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp and tousled. He was wearing a faded ‘80s band T-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, baggy jeans, and sturdy hiking boots. He pulled his New Yorker cap on backward, and you had to admit, reluctantly that his style was growing on you. Maybe even a little too much. You quickly looked away.
"Where are you going?" you asked, clutching your coffee mug like a shield. Niki reached out, snatching a cookie from the table, and took a bite with casual indifference.
"Hiking with you and your little friends," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. You closed your eyes, certain he was joking. When you opened them again, you nearly spilled your coffee into the sink, coughing in surprise.
"Wait, what? You...you’re coming with us? Into the woods? For hours?" You tried to talk him out of it. "I don’t think that’s your ideal habitat."
Niki shrugged, shooting you an amused glance from under the brim of his cap. "What? Surprised? I can walk like a normal person, Shorty. And I can adapt to any natural habitat..especially when you’re there." He winked at you, and you opened your mouth to retort, but no words came out.
"So… you’re telling me you’re coming with us? You’re actually waiting for me?"
He nodded, picking up the mug you’d only taken a sip from and downing the rest of your coffee. "Yeah, just don’t take an hour to get ready." He stepped outside onto the porch, and the word "ready" made your cheeks burn. You didn’t need to be told twice. You rushed to the bathroom, washing your face at lightning speed and braiding your hair into your usual neat plaits. You threw on a ribbed tank top with faded rainbow stripes that gave you a fresh, lively look, a pair of comfortable jeans that ended just above your knees, your hiking boots, and your New Yorker cap. When you stepped outside, grab your backpack and camera, you found Niki lounging on the porch hammock. The moment you appeared, he lifted his gaze and looked you up and down. For a second, his usual smirk faded, replaced by an unreadable expression. Without meaning to, he inhaled, catching the faint scent of your sakura-scented body wash, your signature fragrance in the bungalow and, apparently, his favorite in just a few weeks. With a fluid motion, he hopped off the hammock, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and gestured toward the trail.
You walked in silence to the meeting point, but it was a different kind of silence. Neither of you teased or provoked the other. For once, there was no war between you...
When Lia saw you both approaching, her eyes widened. Okay, sure, you’d told the whole camp that anyone who wanted to join the hike was welcome, but she hadn’t expected to see you arrive with Niki. She rushed over, linking her arm through yours and pulling you a step forward to whisper in your ear:
"And what is he doing here? He’s complained every day about not being able to sleep, and now that he has two whole days to catch up, he’s coming on a hike?"
"He decided to come hiking with us," you replied with a shrug, trying to sound indifferent while feeling Niki’s gaze burning into the back of your neck.
Lia turned to study him properly. Niki was leaning against a tree with effortless ease, observing the forest as if he’d known it his whole life. She was skeptical, she knew a guy like him wouldn’t choose a flat trail and a refuge lunch unless there was a more... personal reason. She looked at you, then at him, and a small, knowing smile spread across her face. Deep down, she already understood what was brewing between you, though she decided not to say anything, she didn’t want to make your cheeks burn any brighter. She couldn’t wait to see how your days together would unfold.
The crisp Montana air was like a jolt of pure energy, invigorating you with every breath. You took long, deep inhales, savoring the sweet sensation of fresh, clean air filling your lungs. You loved walking along the flat trail, surrounded by greenery, the sound of babbling brooks, and the occasional sight of cows grazing in the distance. Every few minutes, people would wave and wish you a good day, making you feel right at home, because deep down, you’d always loved spending time outdoors, and your years at summer camp had only deepened that love for nature.
You and Lia led the group with confidence, knowing every rock and turn of the path by heart after years of hiking it together. Each time, you’d discover something new, something you’d missed the year before. But every time you raised your camera to capture a snow-capped peak, a wildflower, or one of Lia’s funny faces, the lens somehow ended up framing Niki instead. He walked with an effortless swagger, earbuds in, his gaze shifting between the mountain peaks and your figure just a few meters ahead.
It was odd to wear earbuds when you could hear the birds, the cows, the rushing water but by now, you’d grown used to Niki’s quirks. If it made him comfortable, you weren’t about to say anything.
Niki took in the landscape, and it wasn’t half bad—though he’d never admit it out loud. He was a Chicago guy, used to 2 a.m. outings because he couldn’t sleep, extreme sports, and pure adrenaline. The quiet of nature usually bored him to death, but the thought of staying in the empty bungalow without your indignant glares and quick comebacks had convinced him that maybe a hike wasn’t so terrible. He liked watching you—how you were kind to everyone, sunny, the way people gravitated toward you because you gave off the vibe of someone everyone wanted to be around. But with him, you were the exact opposite, fiery, ready to snap the second he opened his mouth to tease you. That contrast was getting under his skin, and it annoyed him more than he cared to admit. It hadn’t even been a month since you’d started sharing your lives, and yet his eyes sought you out everywhere. He hated the effect you had on him.
At one point, the group stopped because a small stream had flooded the trail, creating a muddy, slippery passage. The guys in the group started playing the chivalrous heroes, helping the others cross. Niki quickened his pace until he was right behind you, his warm breath brushing against your earlobe, carrying the scent of mint and something spicy.
"Wren, let me go first," he murmured in that rough voice that sent a shiver down your spine. "Halfway through, I’ll grab your hand and pull you across." He smirked, and when he saw you startle at his sudden closeness, he chuckled. You whipped around, and your faces were inches apart, your cheeks flaming at the unexpected proximity.
"Thanks, but I can manage on my own," you said, proud. "Do you know how many times I’ve hiked this trail? A little water isn’t going to stop me."
He stepped aside with a dramatic flourish, gesturing for you to go ahead. You tried to proceed with dignity, and for a while, it went fine—until you reached a slippery, unstable rock. Panic set in. You hadn’t brought extra clothes or spare shoes, and the thought of ending up soaked in front of everyone—especially him—was a humiliation you couldn’t afford. You heard the others urging you to hurry, a small crowd forming behind you. You closed your eyes, swallowed your pride, and said:
"Niki… could you come to the middle and then go ahead? That way, you can grab my hand and pull me across?"
His smirk widened, lighting up his blond features—he had bet on you needing his help eventually. "Oh, so now you really get that you need me, wren?"
"Please, spare me the Montana hero speech and move that giant body of yours before I throw a rock at your head!" you snapped, trying to hide your embarrassment. You were stuck in the middle of the stream, and everyone was watching but you only cared about the gaze of one person in particular. He didn’t need to be told twice. With an effortless leap, he landed on the stable rock beside you, gesturing for you to hand over your backpack. Then, with infuriating ease, he launched himself toward the grassy bank, landing perfectly dry.
A moment later, he turned and reached his arm out to you. It was long, solid, veins standing out on the back of his hand, adorned with small silver rings. You wobbled slightly toward the water, and he stepped forward to catch you.
"Jump, Y/N. I’ve got you, you won’t fall," he said, rising onto his toes to get closer. You took a deep breath and leaped without thinking. His large, warm hands instantly closed around your waist, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. For an endless moment, you were pressed against his chest, feeling the heat of his body against yours. His minty, musky scent overwhelmed your senses, making you forget where you were. Without meaning to, you nestled closer to him. After a moment, you looked up and found his face just centimeters from yours, that victorious smirk still playing on his lips as he enjoyed the fact that everyone was staring.
"Thanks," you whispered, your cheeks burning as he set you down with maddening slowness. You tucked some loose strands of hair behind your ears, and Niki saw how utterly flustered you were. He found it ridiculously cute but didn’t say a word. Instead, he watched as you grabbed your backpack and hurried to catch up with Lia, who was barely containing a sarcastic comment about what had just happened. You shot her such a fierce look that she immediately raised her hands in surrender.
"Okay, okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut!" she said, laughing.
The trail leading to the refuge was a relentless uphill climb that seemed to never end, but the view waiting at the top made every drop of sweat worth it. Every time you hiked that path and reached the summit, the scenery was breathtaking. When you finally caught sight of the wooden cabin with its umbrellas and lounge chairs neatly lined up along the meadow, a chorus of relieved sighs rose from the group everyone was utterly exhausted.
You and Lia, without needing to say a word, quickened your pace—though maybe that wasn’t the best idea, since it left the others behind and your legs started aching but the moment you stepped inside the refuge, the smell of freshly cooked food wrapped around you, and your stomachs growled in response.
In front of the entrance, a menu written on a chalkboard made your mouths water: melted cheese with sausage and mushrooms, beef stew with potatoes, hot sausage sandwiches with various sides but it was the dessert list that made you both grin: panna cotta with berries, Sacher cake, strudel. You and Lia exchanged a look of pure complicity—you couldn’t wait to dig into those homemade sweets.
"Oh my God, I’m about to die from happiness," you said at the sight of so many treats, and Lia sighed at the sight of a waitress carrying a perfect slice of Sacher cake, already imagining the first bite of that heavenly dessert.
You dropped your backpacks onto a long wooden table, and while the others settled in, you couldn’t resist unbuttoning the first two buttons of your blouse, you wanted to soak up as much sun as possible and relax. You put on your sunglasses and stretched out on a lounge chair like a cat basking in the sun. Lia did the same, but unlike you, Lia was a first-class chatterbox and didn’t stop talking for a second:
"Damn, Y/n, look at Niki," she said, nodding toward the shade of the refuge. "He seriously hates the sun. How can he just sit there in the shade, sulking with that little notebook of his, drawing or writing who knows what, when he could be out here soaking up some sun and relaxing by the stream like normal people?"
You turned slightly and, sure enough, saw Niki leaning against the refuge wall, legs crossed, notebook on his knees, and a scowl that, for some reason, made a stupid little smile tug at your lips. You quickly shook your head.
Since when did you find him cute? you thought. He was everything you shouldn’t want in your life....especially that annoying pout of his, the way he ignored the world around him.
"Good thing he’s over there by himself instead of coming to ruin my free day too," you replied, trying to sound indifferent. Lia chuckled, noticing how you’d glanced at him.
"You know, it’s weird that, purely by coincidence, he ended up coming on this hike with us too. I think he came because…"
You pushed your sunglasses up and shot her a glare. She immediately clamped her mouth shut and raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, we won’t talk about you and him...well, we won’t talk about him at all, Y/n. Just today. I’ll put my headphones in and listen to a podcast or some music for an hour while we enjoy the fresh air and sunshine."
You nodded, but before sliding your sunglasses back down, you couldn’t resist sneaking another look at Niki. He was completely absorbed in sketching, his pencil moving swiftly across the page, his brow slightly furrowed. As if sensing the weight of your gaze, he looked up, and your eyes met. You immediately lowered your sunglasses and pretended to look around before lying back down on the lounge chair, but you could feel your cheeks burning.
Damn it… He always caught you looking at him. Every single time.
On the other side, Niki lowered his gaze back to his notebook, a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at his lips. For the first time in a long while, there was a real person in his sketches, he’d been drawing the mountains, quick strokes and shading, but there was also the profile of a girl with braids taking photos by a stream and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
Lunch at the refuge had been devoured in the blink of an eye—everyone had grabbed food and shared it among laughter and old mountain stories meant to scare the group. But the peace lasted only until dessert arrived. When the waitress placed that slice of warm strudel in front of you, crispy pastry, vanilla ice cream already melting into a delicious cream, you thought you’d died and gone to heaven. You’d been dreaming of that slice for ages, but you hadn’t accounted for Niki’s presence. Without a word, he stretched his fork toward your dessert and, with zero hesitation, broke off half your slice.
"Hey! That’s my cake!" you exclaimed, eyes wide, as Niki didn’t even bother looking at you. With a little smirk, he broke off another piece, and you, furious, jammed your fork between the tines of his to block him. He finally lifted his gaze, those expressive eyes locking onto yours.
"This is my cake, Niki. You have your yogurt, which is probably just as sour as you are," you hissed, aware that half the table was snickering at your little scene.
"Everyone said we should share," he countered, "and I’ll share mine with your dessert." He gestured to your strudel, and you snapped:
"Well, I’d never trade my cake for yogurt I could get in the camp cafeteria!"
Before you could finish, he swooped in with lightning speed, bringing a piece of strudel to his mouth. You opened your lips to protest, but the sound died in your throat as Niki closed his eyes and let out a low, guttural moan, almost like a purr of satisfaction, that made your stomach flutter. He brought a finger to his lips to wipe away a trail of vanilla ice cream, and in that moment, you felt your ears burning.
"Mmm… I get why you don’t want to share," he said, his gaze lingering on your lips a second too long. "It’s delicious. I’ll have another bite." He leaned even closer to your plate, and you snapped:
"Forget it!" You clutched the plate to your chest like it was your most precious treasure, and he kept talking:
"Come on, Y/n, share a little. Don’t be a baby," he teased, and Lia, beside you, burst out laughing.
"You two are like an old married couple fighting over the remote. Y/N, just give him a piece—you know he’ll win anyway."
You shot her a glare. "You’re supposed to be on my side, Lia!" you grumbled, finishing your slice in quick bites while glaring daggers at Niki, who returned to his "boring" yogurt with berries. Halfway through, he held out the spoon with some fruit, but you shook your head proudly. Niki thought you were seriously acting like a child—a little pouty, a little stubborn—but that angry pout of yours made him feel things he shouldn’t, and he noticed how your eyes never left him, even if your glare was murderous.
After eating, the group split up, some hiked higher, while Niki, against all expectations, flopped onto a lounge chair in the sun. By 5 PM, when the air started cooling, Lia and the others approached you.
"We’re heading back, Y/n. Coming?" she asked.
You glanced at Niki, fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. It was strange: back at the bungalow, he fought insomnia until 2 AM, but here, on an uncomfortable wooden lounge chair, he looked like an angel (maybe a fallen one), wrestling with his demons. Without realizing it, you said:
"I’ll stay another half hour. We share the bungalow—I’ll make this sacrifice and head down with him."
Lia looked slightly surprised and glanced at the dark clouds gathering over the peaks. "Okay, but don’t take too long, the weather here changes in a heartbeat. Text me when you get back to camp."
You nodded and sat beside him, trying to focus on The Mistake by Elle Kennedy, but the words danced on the page. You’d been stuck on the same page for 10 minutes. When only a few people remained, you stood up and poked his back with a finger.
"Niki, stop sleeping. We need to go down," you said, but there was no response, you realized he had headphones in. You yanked them out with a sharp motion, cutting off the music.
"Niki Nishimura! We have to go back! You can sleep at the bungalow!"
He opened his eyes slowly and saw your braids swaying inches from his face. He let out a lazy, warm chuckle, and you huffed.
"What’s so funny? It’s past five, and it’s about to rain!"
Instead of answering, Niki reached out and tugged lightly on one of your braids, twirling it around his fingers with a familiarity that stole your breath...only your family ever played with your hair like that. You slapped his hand away.
"Are you crazy? Don’t touch my hair again, and let’s go—look what’s coming over the mountains!" You pointed to the dark clouds forming, and he sighed, stretching like a cat. In the movement, his ’80s band T-shirt rode up, and your eyes widened, right there, on his V-line, was a tattoo… red lips? They looked perfect, inked in such a scandalous spot that it made your head spin. Whose lips were those?
You shook your head, heat flooding your face. Grabbing your backpack, you spun around and jabbed a finger at him. "I’m not waiting for you anymore! Everyone else left an hour ago, and if you want to stay here and get struck by lightning, be my guest—because I’ve already been too nice waiting for you, and I don’t even know why!"
You stormed off, heart pounding at the memory of that tattooed skin shaped like lips, but after a few minutes, a familiar shadow fell over you. You turned and saw Niki, less than two steps behind, hair tousled, backpack slung over his shoulder, and that usual scowl etched on his face. You rolled your eyes, but deep down, the fact that he hadn’t left you alone sent a strange, annoying twist in your stomach. You nearly stopped in your tracks, and he said:
"Walk, wren," he murmured, brushing past you, leaving the scent of mint in the air. "Or I’ll have to fish you out of the mud when it starts raining!"
You hated Niki Nishimura with every fiber of your being, or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as the rain poured down, turning the Montana trail into a slippery, muddy mess. And for once, Niki had been right. Just minutes earlier, he’d said, "I’ll have to fish you out of the mud,"—and now, his words had become reality. You wanted to scream and kill him at the same time. The storm had only been raging for five minutes, but the water was already cascading down in sheets, and you clutched your backpack over your head in a desperate, useless attempt to stay dry. Meanwhile, you were seething—at yourself for not leaving with the others, at Niki for walking with an infuriating calm, as if he actually enjoyed this situation.
You shot him glowering looks until a deafening crack split the sky, thunder roaring through the mountains. You froze, paralyzed by the ominous sound. Everyone—your father, every camp instructor—had always drilled into you: "Never stay near trees during a mountain storm." And here you were, smack in the middle of a giant forest, your heart pounding with fear—for yourself, for Niki, for the fact that something terrible could happen to either of you.
Niki, realizing you’d stopped, whirled around. His usual bored expression vanished in an instant when he saw you—motionless, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders trembling. In three long strides, he was at your side.
"Why did you stop? We need to move!" he shouted over the rain, but you just stared at him, wide-eyed, hair plastered to your face.
"We’re going to get struck by lightning, Niki! It’s your fault! We’re still over an hour from camp, and we’re in the middle of nowhere!" you panicked. Another thunderclap, even closer, made the ground tremble. Before you could say another word, you felt Niki’s large, warm hand grab yours, and there was no time to protest—he started running, dragging you along in a frantic sprint through the downpour. You had to match his pace, even though you weren’t used to it.
"Do you even know where the hell you’re going?!" you yelled, but Niki didn’t answer. At the fork that led back to the summer camp, you watched in horror as he suddenly veered left.
"Are you SERIOUSLY going left?! The camp is to the RIGHT! Niki, I swear if I die because of you, my ghost will haunt you for the rest of your EXISTENCE—no, for ETERNITY!" you screamed. But instead of panicking, Niki burst out laughing a liberating, wild laugh, the kind of someone who hadn’t felt this alive and free in years, far from Chicago’s underground races and his parents’ problems. When he finally spotted an old abandoned barn between the trees, he pointed at it with a sharp gesture. As you stumbled inside, you were furious and immediately yanked your hand away as if it burned.
"I can’t believe this… How unlucky can I be? Why didn’t I just go down with Lia and the others? Why did I have the brilliant idea of waiting for you?!" you ranted, shivering from the cold. Niki shook the water from his hair like a wet dog and looked down at you—you seemed even smaller and more vulnerable, soaked and trembling.
"You should be thanking me, actually," he said with a vague gesture. "We’re safe, under a roof that’s protecting us from killer lightning and the storm."
You raised an eyebrow. "Thank you? For what, exactly?"
He huffed, stepping dangerously close to you. "Because you didn’t even know this shack existed. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be out there, frozen like a statue in the dark, drenched, and panicking in the storm. But hey, no problem, Y/n." He smirked, and you opened your mouth to retort but another flash of lightning lit up the sky outside, followed by thunder that seemed to shake the barn’s foundations. You shuddered violently, and before you even realized it, you stepped closer to him, seeking protection—though you were still seething.
"It’s all my fault…" you murmured, voice trembling. "I should’ve gone down with the others and left you there sleeping on the lounge chair. Now we’re stuck here all night? No, I’m NOT spending the night in here! What if a wolf comes in? Or a bear and eats us both? Or the roof collapses...."
But before you could finish, your words were cut off by Niki’s lips crashing against yours. You froze, stunned by the unexpected softness of his mouth. Your thoughts spiraled:
What is he doing? Is he actually kissing me? Should I pull away? Will it be awkward? Will he realize it’s my first kiss?
But every doubt vanished when you felt his lips part slightly, inviting you to respond. This kiss was nothing like you’d imagined—not the rough, aggressive kind you’d expect from a guy like him, always surrounded by girls. Instead, there was an unexpected sweetness that stole your breath as his lips gently coaxed yours open. Your hands acted on their own—one fisted his soaked T-shirt, feeling the heat of his chest, while the other rested on his solid shoulder. You parted your lips further, letting him deepen the kiss, and you sighed into it, tasting the lingering vanilla ice cream mixed with the mint of his breath. Niki let out a low, satisfied hum against your mouth, his lips lightly sucking your lower lip, a barely-there smirk forming between you—as if he knew he’d finally shut you up.
But then reality hit like a slap. You jerked back, pressing a trembling hand to your mouth, your heart pounding in your throat.
Niki had just stolen your first kiss...your very first kiss.
He stood still, towering over you with wet hair falling onto his forehead, watching you with a small smirk—finally, he’d managed to shut you up.
"You…" you whispered, pointing at him with a trembling finger. "Why did you kiss me?" you shrieked, shocked. Niki just shrugged with an infuriating nonchalance.
"I wanted to shut you up somehow, and I figured kissing you was the quickest way. That’s all… You were rambling too much, Y/n, and I hate people who talk too much."
Your cheeks burned, and you didn’t know whether to slap him or kiss him again. You opened your mouth to unleash a string of insults, to tell him how arrogant and presumptuous he was, but the words died in your throat. With a smooth, unembarrassed motion, Niki pulled off his soaked shirt, leaving you frozen, your eyes glued to his body—sculpted like marble, dark lines of tattoos snaking across his skin in designs you couldn’t quite decipher. But your gaze inevitably dropped lower, to that defined V-line disappearing into his wet jeans, to that lip-shaped tattoo that seemed both scandalous and sexy. Your cheeks flared with heat, and you snapped your eyes downward, pretending sudden interest in the muddy tips of your shoes.
Meanwhile, Niki pulled out a gray long-sleeved shirt from his backpack too thin for the dropping temperature—then a thick, carefully folded gray hoodie. You assumed it was for him, but instead, he stepped closer. Seeing you speechless for once, he teased with a chuckle:
"Damn, if kissing you or showing off my tattoos is what it takes to shut you up, I should’ve done it ages ago back at the bungalow. You never stop talking from morning to night!" he said with an annoying smirk.
"You’re an idiot!" you snapped, giving him a little shove, but he didn’t budge an inch. Instead, he draped his hoodie over your shoulders.
"Take off that blouse and put this on," he ordered, his gaze suddenly serious as he watched you shiver. "At least you’ll stay warm and won’t freeze to death before we get back to camp, otherwise, you’ll have a fever of 40 tomorrow."His eyes lingered on you, and you wanted to strangle him, but your chattering teeth wouldn’t let you play tough. The hoodie was soft, plush inside, and you nodded, but first, you muttered:
"Turn around. I need to change."
Niki shot you a challenging look that lasted a couple of seconds, then sighed and turned his back.
"Don’t you dare turn around, Niki, seriously, or..."
He burst out laughing, a low chuckle echoing against the wooden walls. "Or what, wren? You’ll kiss me this time?"
You wanted to scream, but while he kept teasing you, you moved fast as lightning, peeling off your soaked blouse that clung to your skin like ice. You slipped into his hoodie....massive, the sleeves swallowing your hands completely, the hem falling to mid-thigh but the worst… or best part? The smell. It was intensely him: peppermint and something spicy, and without thinking, you buried your face in the high collar, inhaling his scent.
Niki turned slowly, expecting you to be done but when he saw you drowned in his clothes, your nose pressed into the fabric as you sought his scent, he froze. His mind raced: You looked so small in his hoodie, like it was made for you. And he hated how good you looked in his clothes, it drove him crazy. You were the classic "good girl" who should’ve stayed far away from someone like him… and yet, at the same time, he wanted to break you, make you his, just to prove to the world that even good girls needed a guy like him.
You realized he was staring at you longer than usual, and you whispered, "Thanks."
Niki raised an eyebrow, surprised by your response. "Whoa, I should mark this day on the calendar! The Princess actually said thank you without a judge forcing her!" he teased, chuckling. You rolled your eyes, trying to reclaim some dignity.
"You should thank me," you said, puffing up slightly as you clutched the long sleeves against your chest. He crossed his arms, amused by your answer.
"Oh? And what exactly should I thank you for?"
"For waiting for you!" you replied proudly. "Otherwise, you’d still be here asleep on that lounge chair in the middle of the storm." You shot him a glare, and Niki smirked, running a hand through his damp, icy-blond hair. He didn’t thank you with words, but his gaze softened for a moment before he turned toward a wooden ladder leading to the upper level of the barn, where dry hay awaited.
You walked to the heavy door, slamming it shut to block out the howling wind. Meanwhile, Niki tested the sturdiness of the ladder rungs with a sharp tug. The old wood groaned slightly, but he figured it could hold your combined weight. He climbed first, and when he reached the top, he found a small loft filled with the sweet scent of freshly gathered hay—soft enough to lie down on. There were even old burlap sacks stuffed with raw wool serving as makeshift pillows. It wasn’t luxury, but compared to the mud and rain outside, it felt like paradise.
"Wren, we can stretch out up here until the storm passes," he called, leaning over the edge as he watched you climb. Niki unconsciously bit his lower lip, his hoodie nearly swallowed you whole, your usually neat braids half-undone and messy, your lips still slightly swollen and trembling from the earlier kiss. For a microsecond, he thought you looked cute before shaking his head to banish the dangerous thought.
The space up there was cramped, so you kicked off your shoes, mimicking his movement, and knelt on the hay, trying to ignore how your legs brushed against his. You looked around, careful not to let your eyes linger too often on his face or his body.
"They’re definitely looking for us," you murmured, trying to reassure yourself as the wind howled through the cracks in the roof. "The camp director and all the counselors must have already sent out search parties. They’ll find us soon." You watched the sky grow darker, lit only by the flashes of thunder that made the entire structure tremble. Without thinking, you scooted closer to Niki, who was already half-reclined, a strand of hay caught between his lips, lazily shifting it with his tongue.
"I bet they’re worried about you, wren, not me," he said with a hint of cynicism, his intense gaze fixed on you. "You’re everyone’s favorite at camp—the perfect girl who never breaks the rules and I’m just… me." His eyes drifted to a fixed point in the barn.
"That’s not true," you countered, pulling your legs against your chest and burying your chin in the collar of his hoodie. "I bet all the girls who flock around you, the ones who sigh when you walk by and gossip about you—they’re all worried about you!"
Niki propped himself up on an elbow, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he detected the sarcastic edge—and maybe a hint of irritation—in your voice.
"Mmm, someone’s jealous, or maybe..."
You didn’t let him finish, swatting his arm playfully. "Stop it!" you snapped, glaring at him. He chuckled at your flushed cheeks, and another thunderclap tore through the sky, so loud it felt like it exploded right above you. You visibly shuddered, inching even closer to him.
"Are you scared of thunder, or are you just cold, Shorty?" he asked, looking at you almost protectively. You sighed, feeling a little pressured by his gaze.
"Don’t make fun of me, but… both. I was stupid not to bring a change of clothes like you did, and thank God you gave me your hoodie even if I know you’re cold too right now."
Niki murmured that you were perceptive, and you closed your eyes, feeling exhaustion and the chill in your bones as you tried to relax a little.
"Look, I know you don’t like physical contact, and you can’t stand me and trust me, the feeling is mutual but we’re human, right? Maybe we could… I don’t know, keep each other warm." You blurted out what you were thinking, though you might have phrased it poorly, because Niki’s eyes shot open, almost shocked. He nearly choked on his own saliva at what you’d just said.
"You know what you just said sounds really bad, right, Y/n? When a girl asks a guy to ‘keep her warm’… we tend to think of things that are a little more intimate than just sharing a blanket." He laughed, teasing you, and you immediately covered your face with your hands, feeling your cheeks burn.
"Oh my God, no! That’s not what I meant! This is so embarrassing! I gave my first kiss to a guy I can’t stand, I’m trapped in a falling-apart barn, I’m freezing to death, and..."
Before you could finish, Niki’s strong arms wrapped around you with a determination that brooked no argument, pulling you against his chest. Without meaning to, you nestled against him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, your hands instinctively resting over his heart. For a moment, you froze, feeling it beating fast—too fast for someone who pretended to be so calm.
Niki stayed still for a few seconds, his breath catching in his throat. He was the guy everyone had warned you to stay away from—the one who had been the first to brush against those lips that tasted of vanilla and far too much innocence. He could imagine it, really, how it had been your first kiss, from the way you’d hesitated, from the sweet, uncertain tension in your movements. But hearing you say it out loud while trembling in his arms made him feel something he’d never experienced before. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of your head against his chest, and for the first time, his usual arrogance gave way to a strange, unfamiliar curiosity.
"Wren… I never would’ve guessed I’d be your first kiss," he said quietly. "Between summer camp and university, half the guys are crazy about you. I just assumed at least one of them would’ve had the guts to kiss you by now."
You stiffened instantly, burying your face deeper into his hoodie. "Let’s not get into that chapter of my life. It’s embarrassing…" you mumbled, trying to turn away to hide the blush now creeping down your neck. But Niki didn’t let you. He held you close, forcing you to stay put until you both settled more comfortably in the hay. He stretched out fully while you propped yourself up on one elbow, trapped between his body and the slow, lazy circles his finger began tracing through the damp ends of your hair.
"Undo your braids, Y/N, or tomorrow you’ll have impossible knots, and it’ll all be my fault for dragging you through the storm," he teased, trying to lighten the tension between you. He twirled a strand around his finger, watching the way the dim lightning reflected in your hair. You pouted.
"You undo them, since you like playing with my hair so much!”
Niki didn’t need to be told twice. He looked at you intently, his fingers deftly unraveling the braids. When your hair tumbled loose over your shoulders and into his hand, he ran his fingers through it, almost enchanted by its softness. The scent of cherry filled the air, overwhelming the usual mint and rain, and for a moment, he thought he’d want to bury his face in your hair every damn morning, not just when you invaded the bungalow bathroom with that fragrance. But he quickly pushed the thought away when he saw you nervously tucking the strands behind your ears.
"I’m sorry I stole your first kiss," he started, but he didn’t look at you. "I bet you wanted to give it to some perfect, upper-class guy—you know, the kind with a perfectly ironed shirt and his whole future already mapped out."
You rolled your eyes and sighed deeply at the sudden chill in his tone. "Well, I can’t go back now, and my dream of giving my first kiss to someone I actually like—someone who actually likes me—is officially gone."
Niki was staring at you too intensely, his face too close, and said:
"Well, since we’re stuck here… why don’t you kiss me this time? You know, just for practice… Think of it as training for your future ‘perfect guy.’ At least you’ll know what to do when you meet him."
Your eyes widened, your cheeks burning. "What? No! Are you crazy?" you stammered, trying not to look at him, but he kept teasing you.
"Don’t tell me you’re scared to kiss me," he smirked, closing the distance between you by another centimeter. "Because if you’re scared, it means you’re scared to admit you actually like me." He was showing off, and you seriously wanted to slap him.
"I don’t like you, Niki, and I never will. Get that through your head," you shot back with all the confidence you could muster, even though your heart was pounding wildly against your ribs. You refused to meet his gaze, but he just grinned.
"Good. Then kiss me, Shorty. If you don’t like me, there’s no risk, right? You can just use me as your guinea pig for practice," he continued, amused by your flustered state. He leaned in even closer, his mouth a breath away from yours.
"Unless… you’re not doing it because you think that if you kiss me again, you won’t be able to stop."
But you didn’t let him finish. Just like he had done to you earlier, you slammed your lips against his to shut him up once and for all.
Niki smiled immediately against your mouth, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you hard against him.
Your lips were still uncertain, guided by a shyness that Niki seemed eager to devour with every touch but he also found it sweet. When you felt his tongue brush against your lower lip, he began to suck on those lips no one had ever dared kiss before, and a stifled moan escaped your throat. Niki thought he might just be the luckiest guy in the world, finding himself in this barn with you nearly in his arms, kissing like this.
The hand that had been resting over his heart slid lower, tracing the taut planes of his stomach, while Niki buried his fingers in your loose hair, pressing his palm against the back of your neck to keep you from pulling away—to pull you even closer, because he didn’t want this moment to end. He wanted you to feel just how much you were driving him crazy, and you sighed against his mouth, dazed by the sensations he was giving you with just kisses.
Then, driven by an instinct you didn’t even know you had, you leaned forward and imitated his gesture, timidly sucking on his lower lip. Niki let out a low growl, shifting slightly beneath you as he felt how you were trying—so shyly, so clumsily to drive him wild. But you’d been driving him wild since the first time he’d seen you in the bungalow. He craved more friction, more contact, as if even the smallest space between your bodies was still too much—though there was none at all. Without warning, he pushed his tongue past your lips, and when your tongues met for the first time, you both moaned.
Niki lowered you completely onto the hay, his weight hovering over you not crushing you, but making you feel protected by his warmth, by him. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you so close you could feel every muscle in his body pressed against yours. You kissed for minutes that felt like hours, not just fleeting kisses, but a mix of shy discovery, playful dominance, and restraint, your lips wandering to his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Both of you were drowning in a whirlwind of sensations and emotions you’d never felt before, and neither wanted to stop.
You pulled away just long enough to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You felt his fingers trace the skin at your side, slipping beneath the hem of the hoodie as he held you possessively against him.
"Niki…" you breathed, but he didn’t stop looking at you. Instead, he pressed a finger to your swollen, glossy lips and whispered:
"Don’t think, Wren. Just kiss me."
You didn’t need to be told twice. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him back to you with a force that surprised him, playing with the icy-blond strands at his nape, tugging lightly. Niki groaned against your lips, sending a shiver through you, and you continued to alternate between deep kisses and playful nips, exploring each other in that makeshift refuge while the Montana cold stayed locked outside those walls. For the first time, you felt truly warm but also protected by someone everyone had warned you to stay away from.
Eventually, exhaustion claimed one of you first, and soon, the only sounds in the barn were the drizzling rain and your steady breaths as you fell asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.
After that weekend trapped in the barn, reality hit hard again, because even though you’d kissed and fallen asleep together, you’d hoped those kisses might have changed something in Niki, made him softer or more "human." But you’d made the biggest mistake of your life thinking that, because Niki had gone back to being his usual self or maybe even worse.
His cynicism had doubled, his taunts had become more relentless, driving you crazy and making you curse him 24h-24h. He teased you endlessly but at the same time made it clear that nothing had happened between you, that those kisses had meant nothing. It was frustrating because you had to see him all the time, and you would’ve changed bungalows every day if you could. But when you finally decided you’d had enough, you found yourself walking near the rec area to make sure the kids didn’t wander off and then you saw something surreal, yet sweet enough to warm your heart.
Niki was sitting on the grass with his legs crossed, his back against an oak tree. In front of him was Nina, one of the liveliest little girls in the group, who never left him alone. As usual, Nina was chattering away, telling him how much she adored you and how badly she wanted braids just like yours because her little hands couldn’t manage to gather all her hair. You hid behind a tree, your heart beating strangely.
You saw that Niki wasn’t ignoring her like he usually did. Instead, he ran a hand through Nina’s hair to smooth it, then began braiding it with millimeter precision, his tongue slightly peeking out between his lips in pure concentration a gesture you knew well, one he always made when he was deeply focused on something. As he braided, Nina started talking again:
"I didn’t think someone like you would know how to braid!" Nina exclaimed with the blunt honesty of a child who wanted all his attention. "I bet you only know how because you can’t stop watching Y/N do hers in front of the mirror or when it’s too hot." She giggled, and you saw Niki freeze for a split second before chuckling and shaking his head.
"Oops, you caught me, Nina," he said, and you felt your cheeks warm slightly because you’d never noticed him watching you braid your hair.
"I bet you and Y/n will end up together someday, and you’ll invite me to your wedding in a few years!" Nina said, tilting her head. "Even though I’m just a little kid, I can see how you look at each other, and you should be nicer to her, like you are to me right now." You nodded in agreement and wanted to rush over to high-five Nina and hug her, but you saw Niki give her hair a playful tug when those words left her mouth.
"Ahia!" she protested, swatting his arm, and Niki’s expression suddenly turned melancholic. He grew serious, and you heard him say:
"Y/n deserves a prince charming like in the fairy tales you read, Nina. She doesn’t deserve someone like me… I’m not what she deserves, and I never will be." He tied off the braids, and those words hit you hard because everyone had warned you to stay away from him, and now even he was saying he wasn’t the guy you deserved. You stood frozen as Nina hugged him, barely reaching his waist, and told him to stop being "the bad guy" just because he had tattoos and a scowl. Niki hugged her back tightly, then took out his phone to show her the braids in the camera.
"They’re beautiful, Niki! Thank you! When I see Y/n, I’ll tell her you did them!" Nina said, giggling as she ran off to find you. Niki shot her a look, calling after her:
"Nina! Don’t you dare tell her I did them!" he yelled as she scampered away laughing, and an involuntary smile tugged at your lips. But that sweet moment was wiped away just hours later.
You were near the showers by the lake when you heard a group of counselors giggling. At the center was Chloe, a head counselor like you, but oozing confidence from every pore. She was touching her lips with a dreamy, almost theatrical air as she told her friends what had happened between her and Niki the night before.
"Girls, I swear, Niki is… unreal," Chloe said, adjusting her low-cut tank top with a practiced gesture to draw the attention of the guys fixing the boats. "Last night, behind the tool shed… we kissed for who knows how long, and girls, I’ve never had a kiss like that. Niki’s rough, and let’s be honest, he always wants to be in control, but he knows exactly what he’s doing with those lips of his, they were practically on my..." She giggled. "I’ve never felt so… dominated before, and you all know I’m usually the one calling the shots with guys!"
You rolled your eyes, trying to push back the sudden sting in your eyelids at the thought of Niki kissing someone else as you walked back to the bungalow, you wondered:
Why do my eyes feel like this?
You were furious with yourself because you knew who Niki was a heartbreaker, a guy who lived for moments, not promises. You didn’t want to fall for him like everyone else… but maybe you already had. And you still had another month and a half of sharing a bungalow with him before returning to Chicago.
A month and a half had passed since the start of summer camp, and some of the kids, along with a few counselors had already headed back to Chicago. Thankfully, Lia had stayed with you for the entire summer. You’d said goodbye to all the kids and some of the counselors, and that very evening, fifteen new kids and four new counselors two guys and two girls had arrived.
Two weeks had passed since John’s arrival, and for Niki, every single second he saw or heard him was a struggle not to roll his eyes. John was the exact type of guy Niki despised: a campus swimmer with a blinding smile straight out of a YouTube ad preview, the kind that made you want to skip the video in the first five seconds. He studied English literature and flaunted quotes from authors who had been dead and buried for centuries. It was infuriating.
As you leaned over to tighten the kids’ life jackets, John hovered around you like always—ever since he’d arrived at camp, he’d had the brilliant idea of positioning himself as the prince charming you supposedly needed.
"Be careful, Y/n, don’t strain your back too much. Let me pull these canoe ropes—I wouldn’t want you to overdo it," John said, resting his hand on your shoulder for a second too long for Niki’s liking. Niki watched with a groan of despair as John flirted like an idiot something he’d been witnessing for days now: John sitting next to you at meals, John constantly finding excuses to touch you (though you were reluctant to his advances). One morning, Niki had even found him standing outside your bungalow at 7:30 AM, flashing that smug smile of his. Niki had wanted to make him disappear in zero seconds.
Let’s just say Niki didn’t like John, and the feeling was mutual. So when John found out you were one of the few girls sharing a room with a guy, he’d insisted on asking for explanations. But you’d told him there was nothing to be done, the pairs were set for the summer, and deep down, you didn’t mind staying with Niki. John, however, wasn’t thrilled with your arrangement, especially since everyone could see—and hear that there was still something unresolved between you two.
On the dock, while Niki waited his turn to get into the canoe with Nina, Lia approached him, thoroughly enjoying the show of his irritation toward you and John, a smirk playing on her lips.
"Mmm, someone here doesn’t seem to tolerate another alpha male in his territory," Lia murmured, crossing her arms as Niki snapped his head toward her, eyes narrowed.
"Mind your own business, Lia. That guy’s just… a loser."
Lia chuckled, watching as Niki couldn’t stop glancing at you for even a second.
"A loser, huh? Well, that ‘loser’ is getting all the attention you used to have just a few weeks ago! When are you going to stop acting like a jerk and show her who you really are? She won’t wait forever, Niki. It’s obvious from a mile away that you feel something for Y/n and it’s definitely not hate… Let’s just say ever since you kissed in that barn, the tension between you two could power the entire camp."
Niki froze for a second at Lia’s words, his expression confused. "How do you know that..." He cut himself off, realizing of course you and Lia were best friends and best friends told each other everything. Niki closed his eyes for a moment, and against his will, his mind played tricks on him, memories flooded back: the feel of your fingers in his hair, the way you’d responded to his kiss with that shy hesitation that had made his heart race, the way you’d clung to himl ike you were afraid he’d disappear from that barn.
When he opened his eyes again and saw how you smiled at that guy, he thought: John doesn’t know and never will what it’s like to feel you tremble when someone kisses you, how good it feels to be touched by you, how beautiful you look beneath him with swollen lips, neither of you able to stop kissing…
"I don’t feel anything for her, Lia. She could start dating that John kid tomorrow, and I wouldn’t care," Niki said, looking down for the first time in minutes and deep down, he didn’t even believe himself. Lia shook her head, looking at him with a pity that made him furious.
"You know, you’re not very good at lying, Niki. I thought you were smarter than this, but you’re just like every other guy in the world: the second you realize you feel something, you refuse to face the consequences. What’s the matter? Afraid that admitting even a scrap of emotion will make your ‘bad boy from Chicago’ aura vanish into thin air?" she taunted.
"You don’t know shit about me, Lia, and it’s better if your best friend stays as far away from me as possible… I’m not the happy-ending type, and she doesn’t need someone like me ruining her life," Niki hissed. Lia started walking toward her canoe but paused to land one last jab.
"Cut the tough-guy act, Niki, because if you keep this up, you’ll end up alone forever and trust me, a life with no one brave enough to love you, and no one you’re brave enough to love, isn’t much of a life. I’ll say it one more time: she won’t wait for you forever, Niki. So make a move, because honestly? I don’t like John either." She gave him a little smirk before walking off, leaving Niki standing there, motionless, as you climbed into the canoe with John’s help—and Niki watched as John’s hand brushed your waist to steady you.
In that moment, Niki didn’t just feel jealousy. He felt something else maybe the realization that he could lose you soon. And Niki wasn’t the type to lose something he wanted.
That evening, Niki was sprawled on his bed which was slightly too small for his height, relaxing and playing on his Nintendo Switch. He tried to focus on the game, but it was getting harder and harder not to steal glances at the creaky bathroom door you both shared. From the other side, your slightly off-key voice drifted out as you sang Legendary Lovers by Katy Perry, laughing between verses. You’d been in there way too long, usually, it took you ten minutes to throw on one of your matching, childish pajama sets after slathering on some weird aloe vera mask from too much sun. But when the door finally swung open, Niki expected to see you in your usual sleepwear.
Instead, you stood there in a short, black, slightly glittery top and a denim skirt that left your tanned legs bare. Your hair wasn’t in its usual braids—it was loose and wild, a mess of curls and waves tumbling over your shoulders. The scent of sakura hit him immediately, now so familiar it felt like home. Without realizing it, he let his Switch slide onto the comforter and propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze locking onto you as you adjusted yourself in front of the mirror.
"Where are you going, Y/n?" Niki asked, already dreading your answer. "As far as I know, there’s no bonfire tonight, and we’ve got to be up at seven tomorrow. Every human on this planet needs at least seven or eight hours of sleep." He mentally cursed himself, him, the guy who spent nights staring at the ceiling because of insomnia, was lecturing you about sleep.
"I’m going out," you said, checking your reflection in the mirror. Niki huffed, sitting up sharply. "I see your observational skills are still top-notch, Shorty. Obviously, you’re going out but where and with who? Not that it takes a genius to figure it out."
You didn’t answer. You were too focused on applying a bit of lip gloss that made your lips look even more tempting than they had that night in the barn. The memory alone made Niki’s fists clench.
"I bet you’re going out with John, huh?" he asked, almost laughing. "What’s the plan tonight? Is he gonna gift you a fairy-tale book or recite some famous 19th-century author to flirt with you?"
You whipped around. "Yes, I’m going out with him, and stop making fun of him. At least he’s kind a concept you struggle to understand, especially when it comes to me." You jabbed a finger at him, and right then, your phone buzzed on the table. A message from John: "I’m here."
When you looked up, Niki’s eyes were still locked on you and you on him. The tension in the room was electric, thick enough to cut with a knife. Neither of you wanted to make the first move. You were both too stubborn, too proud, neither breaking eye contact for even a second until Niki finally spoke:
"Go on, Y/n. Wouldn’t want to keep your dear John waiting. Just remember...midnight curfew, or this bungalow might turn into a pumpkin… and I might turn into something dark." He smirked, and you looked at him with a small smile before heading for the door.
"Don’t worry, Niki. I’ll be back by midnight. And don’t stay up waiting for me."
The door clicked shut behind you, and Niki stayed frozen, listening to the sound of your voice greeting John outside. He dragged a hand down his face, groaning as he flopped back onto the bed, running his fingers through his hair.
Like hell I’m not staying up waiting for you, Wren.
Your date with John was going perfectly...too perfectly, perhaps and that was the main problem. John seemed like the prince charming every mother would dream of for her daughter.
You were sitting on the dock, wrapped in a blanket he had spread out with maniacal precision, surrounded by snacks and drinks arranged like a scene from a 2000s romantic movie. Everything was perfect: fireflies dancing over the water, stars twinkling in the sky, the moon casting a silver glow on the lake, creating an almost fairy-tale atmosphere. John was attentive, kind, funny, and you laughed a lot, he was the kind of guy who could put anyone at ease. For any other girl, this would have been the perfect date. But there was one problem for you: you felt nothing.
There was no tension, no attraction, no shiver running down your spine when someone looked at you in a certain way. John was perfect, yes but too perfect, like a character straight out of a book, one of those flawless ones, without the fire that made you feel alive. You couldn’t stand those kinds of characters because everyone had their demons, and it was beautiful to see people’s vulnerabilities and flaws. But John seemed to have none or he was just really good at hiding them.
"When we get back to Chicago, I’d love for you to come see me compete in the regional swimming championships. And who knows, if I win, I might even get you to wear a hoodie with my name on it," he said, smiling at you. You nodded, smiling back.
"It would be nice to come watch you. I’ve never been to a swimming meet only football or basketball games," you replied, looking around. He nodded.
"Then it’ll be an honor to be the first swimmer you come see at the campus," he said, preening slightly. A moment later, a light breeze picked up, tousling your hair. A few strands fell against your lips, still glossy, and you laughed but at the same time, you looked up, annoyed, because you hated when your hair stuck to your lips. You tried to brush it away, but John was faster. Gently, he leaned in and tucked the strands behind your ear.
"There you go, Y/n," he said, his hands lingering near your face for a second too long. Your eyes met, and in that moment, you thought only one thing:
Don’t kiss me. Don’t kiss me. Don’t kiss me.
But John couldn’t hear your thoughts. For him, this was the climactic moment, like in a romance novel or movie where the two protagonists finally kiss and confess their feelings. He saw you there, cheeks flushed from the wind, hair tousled, illuminated by the moon’s silver reflection on the water and he thought there was no better moment to lean in and kiss you. Without thinking, he slowly leaned toward you, closing his eyes and tilting his face, ready to claim what he thought was a silent invitation but deep down, it wasn’t. You immediately caught the scent of his expensive, good cologne, so different from Niki’s that sharp, spicy peppermint that only he could pull off.
Before John’s lips could brush yours, your body reacted on its own a survival reflex. You jerked upright, the wooden planks creaking under your shoes. When John opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the empty space where your face had been a second before. You stood a step back from him, arms crossed over your chest as if protecting yourself from a closeness you didn’t want. He remained half-reclined on the blanket, wearing the most humiliated, confused expression you’d ever seen on a guy.
"I… I’m sorry, John," you whispered, feeling just as embarrassed. You seriously wished you could vanish right then. "I can’t… I can’t return the kiss or anything else." You took another step back.
"Y/n, wait...did I do something wrong?" he asked, trying to get up, but his voice was thick with the awkwardness of someone who’d just been brutally friend-zoned.
"No, you were perfect," you answered sincerely and it was true. John had been sweet to you from the start, and for any other girl, this date would have been perfect. "I’m the problem, not you. This whole date you planned was magical… but not for that’s the point. I’m sorry, again."
And without giving him a chance to respond, you turned and walked quickly toward the bungalows, not stopping even when you heard your name called faintly in the distance. You kept your head down, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your heart pounding almost relieved that you hadn’t kissed John back and you realized it was pounding because you didn’t want a perfect prince, you wanted a guy with a thousand flaws, a thousand fears of admitting what he truly felt for you.
You tiptoed in, your heart still pounding from your hasty escape from the dock, hoping against hope that Niki had somehow fallen into one of his rare deep sleeps, though you knew there was a 99% chance he was awake (that guy barely slept at all). Your hope died the moment your eyes landed on the fully lit room and his hulking figure.
Niki wasn’t asleep. He was lying on his side, his feet hanging off the edge of the mattress, one hand propping up his blond head, and the other clutching your copy of The Mistake by Elle Kennedy, the cover already creased. Your eyes widened in horror at the sight.
"What the hell are you doing, Niki? Put that book down right now!" you shrieked, your voice shattering the silence as your cheeks burned.
He jolted at the sound of your voice clearly not expecting you back so soon but recovered his usual arrogance in a heartbeat. As you lunged for the book, Niki sat up and lifted his arm toward the ceiling. At over 185 cm tall, reaching it was like trying to scale a skyscraper.
"Damn, it’s not even 11:30, and you’re already back? That date must’ve been a disaster, Shorty!" he chuckled, flashing that infuriating smirk. You wanted to slap him.
"My date is none of your business! Give me back my book, now!" you huffed, rising onto your toes and uselessly trying to climb his solid chest to reclaim your precious paperback—especially since you hoped he hadn’t gotten far enough to read the slightly "spicy" scenes in the early chapters.
"Who would’ve guessed?" he continued, ignoring your desperate attempts. "Y/n, the girl with the perfect braids and the 'good girl' soul that everyone adores, reads what’s basically porn disguised as literature! Does John know? Or does he still think you’re completely innocent?"
You froze, hands pressed to your face to hide your mortification, not just because Niki had discovered your romance novels, but because they weren’t normal romances. No, these had full-on steamy chapters. You were too tired, too confused, too embarrassed by everything that had happened that night, so you snapped:
"Keep the damn book, Niki. Do whatever you want with it. I’m going to change." You threw your hands up in defeat, and Niki’s eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up in shock.
Is she seriously letting me win? Just like that?
But he didn’t let you be. As you stepped into the bathroom to remove your makeup, you heard his footsteps follow you. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his muscular arms over his chest, watching you through the mirror as you nervously wiped away your mascara.
"It must’ve gone really badly if you don’t even have the energy to fight with me, Y/N. Come on, Shorty, tell me. What did that loser do?"
You stayed silent, but he kept teasing you, stepping closer and lowering his head to enter your line of sight. "Come on, Y/N, what did he do to make you come back so early? It hasn’t even been two hours since you left… Honestly, if I had a date with a girl I liked, I’d stay with her all night." He watched you, and you sighed, exhausted by his questions and the whole situation.
"He tried to kiss me, Niki!" you blurted out, spinning around so fast you nearly threw the cotton pad in your hand at him.
For the first time in a long while, the room fell into a deafening silence. Niki’s jaw clenched so hard you saw the muscles in his neck tighten like ropes. His mocking gaze darkened, and he lowered his face slightly, avoiding your eyes for a moment.
"Did you… I mean… did you kiss him back?" he asked quietly. You stayed silent for a few seconds, watching him, and saw a shadow of sadness, something you’d never seen on his face before—cross his features. Niki took your silence as confirmation.
"No, Niki. I didn’t kiss him. In fact, one of the most embarrassing things of my life happened. While he leaned in, thinking he had me, I moved away, and he just sat there with his mouth open like a goldfish, staring at space for what felt like forever until he realized I wasn’t there anymore." You said it all in one breath, and for a full minute, neither of you spoke. Niki brought a hand to his lips, trying to stifle a sound that was half sigh of relief, half hysterical laugh, and tried to speak—but you shot him a glare.
"Now get out of here because I need to change, and I just want to go to sleep. Please don’t ask any more questions, Niki." You pushed him out with all your strength, slamming the door shut and leaning against it.
"Y/n?" he called softly, his tone suddenly serious.
"Go to bed, Niki. Please."
For the first time in weeks, Niki listened. He got into bed and waited for you. When the bathroom door finally reopened, he watched you walk slowly and turn off the small light, letting only the moonlight filtering through the curtains illuminate the room. You slipped under the covers and, for the first time in hours, felt safe maybe even at peace with yourself because Niki was just a few feet away.
"Sweet dreams, Wren," he murmured into the darkness, his voice completely sincere for once.
"Goodnight, Niki," you replied, your mind already sinking into the pillow. Niki waited until he heard your breathing slow and steady, and only then did he close his eyes. And for the first time since he’d arrived in Montana, he fell asleep too maybe because, deep down, he knew you hadn’t kissed that guy back because there was someone else in your heart, and that someone was him.
The wind howled outside the window, and the rain pounded relentlessly against the bungalow’s glass, the distant rumble of thunder stirring a mix of anxiety and drowsy comfort in you. You burrowed deeper under the covers, savoring that moment of peace before reality hit but it didn’t last long—the walkie-talkie every counselor kept on their nightstand screeched to life, and you groaned, stretching out a sleep-heavy arm to grab it, still half-asleep.
As you blinked your eyes open to keep from dropping the device, you saw that Niki was still fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the apocalyptic weather outside. One arm dangled off the bed, and his face was twisted into an adorably childish pout—nothing like the arrogant, athletic guy he pretended to be during activities. The camp director’s voice came through clear and lively, snapping you back to reality, and you tore your gaze away from the guy snoring softly with his mouth open.
"Good morning, everyone," the director’s voice boomed from the walkie-talkie, followed by a chorus of groggy "good mornings" from the other counselors. You mumbled yours, too.
"I think you’ve all heard and seen what’s happening outside your cabins, trees down, the path to the main lodge is completely flooded. Strong wind gusts are expected today and tomorrow, rain for the next three days straight, and a violent thunderstorm with lightning is forecast for late afternoon." As the director spoke, you heard Niki let out a sleepy groan as he began stretching like a cat, his too-long, too-bulky body barely fitting on his bed.
"The kids are safe in the main building with us," the director continued. "Those of you in the bungalows will have to stay inside for at least two days. You’ve all got kitchens and enough food to survive. Stay safe, and please… don’tkill each other if you don’t get along. I know some pairs have… history, but behave, you’re not kids anymore! The radios stay on for emergencies. Have a good day."
Niki opened one eye, then the other, and looked at you, his voice still thick with sleep. "What’d he say?" he mumbled, sinking back into his pillow.
"He said we’re officially prisoners," you replied, staring at the low, gray clouds beyond the window. "Every time it rains, you and I end up stuck sharing the same space. It’s a curse." You pouted slightly, and Niki chuckled, watching you.
"Come on, wren, don’t tell me you’re complaining. Think about it—you could’ve been stuck with John. Having him around 24/7, knowing you’d friend-zone him after two..."
Before he could finish, you grabbed your pillow and hurled it at his face with all your strength. He burst into loud laughter, effortlessly catching it with his annoyingly quick reflexes, the pillow never even grazing his face.
"Please, Niki! Let’s not talk about John or yesterday’s disaster date," you groaned, sinking back into bed and pulling the covers up to your nose. You just wanted to disappear and forget the embarrassment of last night.
Niki stayed quiet for a moment, watching you hiding under the covers, and something in him swelled at how cute you looked. Without thinking, he said:
"What do you say we watch a movie or a show these next few days? We can push the beds together to make one big bed and watch it side by side?" He watched you, clutching the blankets tightly, waiting for an answer.
Your eyes widened from under the covers, a ping of anxiety shooting through you.
What did he mean by this? Did he want to be close to me? Did he want to sleep with me? Or was this just another way to tease me like usual? You wondered, pushing the warm blankets off your body. You saw him watching you and nodded.
"No problem for me. Let’s move them...at least your giant body that’s more like a pole will be more comfortable, and you’ll stop kicking at nothing."
He rolled his eyes at your joke but couldn’t hide a small smile. He got up while you were still sitting on your bed, and with ease, he started shifting the nightstand between you. In just a few minutes, his bed was aligned perfectly with yours, the two now connected with a mountain of shared blankets in the middle.
"First, though, I need to eat," you said, your stomach growling. "Otherwise, the next thunder you hear might be my stomach." You patted your belly, and Niki laughed, taking in the sight of you—hair tousled, way too cute for his own good.
The kitchen was tiny, and every time one of you moved, you bumped elbows or backs into the other. It looked like one of those cute couples from ads, feeding each other—except you two weren’t a couple.
Niki handled the moka pot, while you started slicing strawberries and bananas with surgical precision. He popped bread into the toaster until it was perfectly crisp, then began spreading on a generous layer of Nutella, so much that the edges were already oozing over as you watched him get his fingers messy, you laughed.
"That’s bread with Nutella, Niki, not Nutella with a little bread," you teased, sitting on the counter and swinging your legs.
"Life’s too short to skimp on chocolate, wren!" he shot back, stepping closer to add your strawberries on top of the dark spread.
You and Niki continued eating in an unusual silence for the two of you, broken only by the rumble of thunder and the sound of rain pounding on the tent. Every now and then, your eyes met, only to quickly slide away toward the window, where the clouds were so low it felt like you were in a place that wasn’t quite real a world where it was just the two of you.
As you took the last bite of your second slice of bread and Nutella, you felt his eyes on you. It wasn’t the look of someone who wanted to argue or tease you—there was something almost thoughtful in the way he watched you.
"Wait, you’re messy. Again," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and provocation, pointing to his own lip as a reference for where you should clean. "You really don’t know how to eat like a normal person, do you, Shorty?"
You rolled your eyes, trying to wipe your mouth. "If I’m messy, it means I enjoyed it. Or maybe someone here went way overboard with the Nutella, and that’s why I’m covered in it!" you shot back, trying to clean your lips with your index finger, but all you managed to do was smear the sticky mess even more. Niki let out a sound that was half sigh, half laugh. Without a word, he took two steps forward, then leaned in between your legs, forcing you to tilt your chin up to maintain eye contact. His hair was still a little tousled from the pillow, falling over his forehead in a soft fringe that gave him an almost "good boy" vibe.
Your heart pounded against your chest at his closeness. Niki hadn’t been this close to you since… well, that kiss in the barn.
He raised his hand slowly, as if giving you time to pull away but you stayed still, and you felt the pad of his thumb press against the corner of your mouth. A violent shiver ran down your spine as he traced the entire outline of your lower lip with maddening slowness. Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t look away. A moment later, he pressed his thumb gently against the Nutella smear on your lip, collecting the last trace of chocolate.
"There. All clean, Shorty," he murmured in a husky voice. Then, with a boldness only Niki could pull off, he brought his chocolate-stained finger to his lips and slowly licked it, never breaking eye contact. The intimacy of the gesture so forbidden, so raw—left you stunned, your lips parting slightly in shock.
You and Niki were centimeters apart, and if he had leaned in even a millimeter, your lips would have met again. You swallowed hard, and for a second… you wanted it. You wanted him to do it again but then, like a sudden flash, you remembered all the campus rumors—all the girls he’d looked at with those same eyes, all the girls he’d kissed so you took control of the situation.
"Well… thanks for cleaning me up," you said, your voice trembling slightly. You placed your hands on his chest and gently pushed him away, sliding off the counter in one swift motion.
"I… I’m going to the bathroom for a second, and then yes, we can watch a show. You can even pick it. Happy?" you said, rushing toward the bathroom and shutting the door behind you, pressing your back against it.
Montana had decided to play cruel tricks or maybe it was just trying to force you and Niki together as much as possible. What was supposed to be a brief storm had turned into an endless weather alert: the two days of forced isolation had stretched into four, turning your bungalow into a temporary refuge where you had to coexist with Niki for four straight days without stepping outside.
Incredibly, for forty-eight hours straight, you hadn’t killed each other. In fact, you’d even established a routine, though, of course, the jabs and teasing never stopped. They were what kept the electricity in the bungalow alive. Niki had teased you all through the first night after you, terrified by the thunder and jump scares from the horror movie he had insisted on watching (you cursed yourself for letting him pick), had spent the night wide-eyed until 3 AM until Niki, in the dark, had reached out and let you grip his strong fingers until you finally fell asleep. The next morning, his hand was still entwined with yours, and both of you had shifted closer in the bed.
You, of course, hadn’t let up on how useless he was in the kitchen, the man would’ve survived on instant ramen for all four days if you hadn’t been there. He had the uncanny ability to make even the water in the kettle disappear if you weren’t careful. But thanks to you, you ate normally. By the third day, you were exhausted from being so close to him, so you decided to hide in the bathroom for a regenerating shower, and honestly, you got lost in your thoughts, taking advantage of a lull in the lightning to truly relax—maybe even staying under the water a little too long.
When you finally stepped out, wrapped in steam, your eyes widened in horror when you saw that where you swore you’dleft your change of clothes for the night, there were only your panties. No shirt, no pants...nothing.
You swallowed hard, realizing you had to get out somehow, and you definitely weren’t calling Niki, he’d never let you live it down. So, carefully, you opened the door to Niki’s closet, which was right there within reach. It was filled with his "organized chaos" a system only he understood. Without overthinking it, you grabbed a deep burgundy T-shirt of his that smelled like him and tried on his pants but they were comically huge. The shirt, however, reached mid-thigh, and you thought:
Whatever. It’s only five steps to my closet. He won’t even notice I’m wearing his shirt.
You dried your hair, applied your sakura-scented cream, smelling of spring and cherry blossoms and opened the door. A wave of that fragrance immediately filled the bungalow, but your heart stopped when you saw Niki. He wasn’t at his PC, wasn’t playing his Switch, he was lying on the bed, his back against the wall, and in his hands was your Elle Kennedy book… that book… the one with the colorful Post-its marking the spiciest scenes.
"Niki, put that book down!" you squealed, your voice cracking with embarrassment. He burst out laughingm but when he looked up, his eyes weren’t on the pages anymore. They were locked on you on his burgundy shirt clinging to your body, on your bare legs, still warm from the shower, radiating heat and scent. You tried to lunge for the book, but with his lightning reflexes, he lifted his arms above his head. So you stood on your toes, pressing your body against his in an attempt to reach it but you heard Niki swallow loudly. You were so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, and you realized the shirt was riding up dangerously as you stretched.
"Niki, stop reading that thing! Give it back!"
"And why should I? It’s a good book," he said, his voice rough. "Every time I read further, I find scenes that are… decidedly spicy… scenes that you, the good girl you pretend to be, act like you don’t understand, right, Wren?"
You kept struggling until, with a sharp motion, he tossed the book onto the floor. You glared at him with pure hatred.
"Oh my God, I can’t stand you, Niki! You always have to snoop, you always have to touch my things! I don’t touch yours! I never touch the stupid drawings that you guard like a relic! And I don’t know how we’ve gone two days without fighting, you’re insufferable!" you shouted, turning your back on him to rush and pick up the book from the floor. But he moved faster, blocking you before you could bend down and this time, he wasn’t laughing.
"You’re insufferable too, Y/N!" he shouted back. "I can’t stand the way you look at me. I can’t stand when you pretend not to realize how damn hard it is for me to be locked in here with you 24/h, I can’t stand my own head, always bringing me back to you, making me imagine what you’d be like if you were really mine and I can’t stand that you play innocent and then read these stories where the characters do everything because it’s driving me crazy!"
He took a step forward, looming over you, and you stayed frozen, staring at him.
"I can’t stand seeing you in my clothes because I want to see you in them all the time, to mark you as mine but at the same time, I want to rip them off you and I hate....I hate with every part of me seeing you with other guys, especially that loser John. I can’t stand you because from the first moment I saw you in this damn summer camp, the only thing I wanted was for you to be mine and the worst punishment they could’ve given me was making me live with you, Y/n."
He said it all in one breath, and the silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of the rain. Niki shot you one last burning glance, then turned toward the kitchen, heading straight for the exit door. He wanted to leave, to run out into the storm rather than face what he’d just confessed and you hated his completely bipolar personality.
But you couldn’t let him go, not after that. You were tired of this situation, and before his hand could grab the doorknob, you reached him and grabbed his wrist tightly.
"Don’t you dare walk away from me, Niki," you whispered, your voice low. "Don’t you dare leave me here after saying all that."
Without hesitation, you rose onto your toes, your fingers gripping the fabric of his burgundy shirt at his chest, and timidly pulled him toward you, pressing your lips against his. For a moment, Niki stayed frozen, surprised by your boldness so far outside your comfort zone but then, as if an electric shock had jolted him awake, he took control, not wasting a second to claim what he’d wanted for so long.
His hand slid possessively over your side, his long, warm fingers pressing into your skin through the thin fabric, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. With his other hand, he cupped your cheek, his thumb gently tracing your soft skin in a way that stole your breath. The kiss shifted instantly, no longer the awkward, hesitant one from the barn. Now, it was passionate, desperate, as if both of you had been craving this for far too long. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers burying into his still-damp hair, while he leaned down slightly, erasing every last centimeter of distance between you.
His tongue insistently traced the outline of your lips, teasing, asking for access and you granted it with a deep sigh that sent shivers through Niki. When his tongue finally slid against yours, the kiss deepened, and the only sounds in the bungalow were the patter of rain, the howl of the wind, and your ragged breaths.
Niki let out a low, rough chuckle against your lips at the sound of your sigh, and he couldn’t wait to hear you moan in pleasure, to see you vulnerable and responsive under his touch.
"God, you drive me crazy, wren…" he murmured between kisses, before playfully nipping at your lower lip.
"Niki…" you moaned softly, almost worried someone might hear. His name slipped from your lips in a way that was so sweet, yet so sexy, it made him shiver for a moment. Usually, when you said his name, it was to tease or scold him, but now… now, you were saying it because yes, he was teasing you but in a way he wanted to do every day, to kiss you, to drive you wild with his touch.
Niki pulled back slightly, your faces just centimeters apart, and sighed near your lips:
"Tell me it’s the same for you, Y/n. Tell me," he demanded, slowly pushing you backward toward the sleeping area. A few moments later, your knees hit the edge of the "super-bed", and you tumbled onto the mattress, pulling him down with you. Niki positioned himself above you, supporting himself on his forearms so as not to crush you, while you kept your arms locked around his neck.
You tried to kiss him again, but he pulled back with a challenging smirk.
"No, no. I’ve laid my cards on the table, wren… now it’s your turn. Otherwise, we’ll stay like this all night… or all day tomorrow until you talk." He grinned, and the silence grew heavy again until Niki decided to torture you further, lowering himself slowly and pressing his lips against the warm, sensitive skin of your neck.
"N-Niki… please…" You whispered, tilting your head to give him more space.
"You speak just fine when you want to, Y/n, too well, in fact," he murmured against your skin, alternating wet kisses with playful nips of his teeth. "So tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, or we’re not going anywhere."
You clung to his biceps, feeling the strength of his muscles under your fingers, and tugged lightly at his hair to get his attention.
"Fine! Fine, you win!" you blurted out in one breath. "I can’t stand you either, Niki. Everyone, every single person told me to stay away from you, that you were trouble, and maybe you still are. But fate decided to be ironic and stuck us in this bungalow for the whole summer… At first, I really couldn’t stand you: you were grumpy, arrogant, you teased me every second, and you were way too bipolar for my taste!" You said it all in one rush, and he chuckled against your skin, his lips placing light kisses as they traveled up toward your jaw while his hand slid under the hem of your shirt, stopping at the bare curve of your waist. You bit your lip to hide how much you liked his touch—too much for your own good.
"Keep going, Y/n. Don’t stop now," he murmured against your ear, and you lifted your eyes, feeling vulnerable but determined to say what you felt.
"You win, Niki. Ever since you kissed me in that barn, everything changed… My feelings went out of control for you. And just like you hate John… I… I hated hearing the other counselors talk about you, hated hearing how good you were at kissing, or how they wanted to get your attention or end up in your bed. And yes, I’ll admit it, it drove me crazy with jealousy. So yes… what do you feel? That’s exactly what I feel."
You lowered your gaze, unable to hold his, afraid for a second that he might laugh at you or go back to being his usual cynical self. But instead, you felt his fingers gently lift your chin, and when you met his eyes again, you saw something different in his gaze. He leaned toward you, stopping a breath away from your lips.
"We’ve been two stubborn fools for not realizing this sooner, Y/n," he murmured, his breath mingling with yours. "And I don’t intend to waste any more time. We’ve figured out we like each other, and that’s all that matters in this damn bungalow but don’t think I’ll stop giving you a hard time," he added, pinching your side lightly to make you flinch. "We’ll never stop cursing each other out, right?"
You laughed and pulled him closer, nodding fiercely. "Never, Niki. I’ll never stop teasing you or busting your balls."You caressed his cheek, and he smiled against your lips a real, bright smile you’d never seen on him before and kissed you again, but this time more gently, as if he wanted to seal every word you’d just said into his memory.
That evening, you were tangled in the blankets of your "super-bed," kissing until your lips were tender, alternating between kisses and long moments of silent gazes while a K-drama played on the screen. Niki, who had initially pretended to watch it just to humor you, ended up being the most invested in the plot, commenting on every twist and teasing how obvious it was which of the two protagonists would fall in love first. He mocked how cliché and over-the-top it all was just to make any girl dream but even he couldn’t hide his interest.
But after a couple of episodes, you yawned for the tenth time in half an hour, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.
"What a lightweight you are, Wren," Niki muttered, rolling his eyes with an amused smirk. "It’s barely 10 PM, and you’re already crashing. Are you really just a little girl who needs her beauty sleep, or do you turn into a grump without it?" He watched as you snuggled deeper into the warm blankets and muggled into them.
"A lightweight? Please. It’s a talent not everyone has, to fall asleep in a minute and sleep more than eight hours,"you replied, your voice already thick with sleep as you settled more comfortably against the pillow. "I love sleeping, and I love going to bed early. It’s a natural gift." You closed your eyes slightly but could still feel his gaze on you, almost like a physical sensation.
"Stop staring at me, Niki," you mumbled, keeping your eyes shut.
"And how do you know I’m staring at you if your eyes are closed? Do you have psychic powers, Wren?" he shot back, amused.
At that, you suddenly opened your eyes wide and caught him red-handed. Niki, with his lightning reflexes, quickly shifted his gaze to the wooden wall as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world, but a guilty little smirk gave him away.
"Busted!" you exclaimed in a whisper, stretching a hand under the blankets. Your fingers searched for his, and almost playfully, you brushed the back of his hand. He stayed still for a second, didn’t fully intertwine his fingers with yours, but he didn’t pull away either. You felt his warmth blend with yours, and then he squeezed your hand.
"Mmm… I was thinking about that night you held my hand because you 'knew I was scared of horror movies'…"you started, teasing him with a sly expression. "Admit it, it was just a pathetic excuse to get a little physical contact with me. The camp’s bad boy needed to hold my hand?" You laughed, feeling his grip tighten slightly. He huffed, trying to pull away, but you were faster. You grabbed his hand firmly and pressed it against your chest, holding it tight over your irregularly beating heart.
"Shut that mouth of yours, wren, and go to sleep, or I’ll throw you out of bed," he grumbled, but he made no move to take his hand back. Instead, you felt his thumb gently trace the warm skin of the back of your hand, and you chuckled softly, savoring that moment of pure sweetness.
"Goodnight, Ki," you said but before drifting off completely, you did something you would’ve never dared just a few days ago—maybe it was the coziness of the bungalow that gave you courage. With a quick movement, you propped yourself up slightly on your elbows and, in a move that would’ve shocked your past self, you leaned toward him and planted a quick kiss just under his chin, right where a new mole was. Then, as if nothing had happened, you burrowed back under the covers, pulling them up over your nose to hide the triumphant smile lighting up your face.
From your privileged position, you caught a glimpse of his face through a gap in the blankets. Niki was literally stunned, his usually teasing eyes wide as they stared at you, his jaw slightly slack, and a faint, almost invisible blush tinting his cheekbones. You heard him sigh as he, too, closed his eyes, continuing to gently stroke the palm of your hand until you both sank into a deep sleep almost completely tangled together, hands still intertwined.
The fourth day of isolation began with the same terrible weather as the day before, and Montana showed no signs of letting up. The sky was still heavy with rain, and every so often, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed through the windows.
After a lazy breakfast filled with whispered laughter and lingering glances, you finished the TV series marathon you’d both enjoyed. Niki, using the excuse that he hadn’t slept well all summer, finally gave in to exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep that afternoon.
He’d dozed off with one arm possessively wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, and you’d never have guessed, seeing him up close like this how much he looked like a puppy while he slept. At the same time, you couldn’t help but notice how much he needed to touch you. You’d already realized back in the barn that Niki loved physical contact with you, but after yesterday, he hadn’t stopped resting a hand on your waist while you cooked, playing with your loose hair, tracing circles on your palm, or kissing you casually. And deep down, you loved this side of him that he only showed to you.
You stayed awake, your heart still beating a little faster from his closeness, and finally picked up The Mistake by Elle Kennedy again. For over an hour, the only sounds in the bungalow were the rustle of pages and Niki’s steady breathing against your shoulder as he napped. You were completely absorbed in Logan and Grace’s story, chuckling to yourself at Logan’s ridiculous lines and underlining the most iconic scenes the book was now covered in colorful Post-its peeking out from the edges.
"I’m going back to sleep for a bit, and of course, you’ve used that as an excuse to get further into this porn disguised as romance!"
Niki’s sleep-thickened voice made you jump, and you instinctively pressed the book to your face to hide your guilty expression. He unwound his arm from around you, stretching lazily, his hair falling over his forehead. When his eyes landed on the book, a crooked smirk tugged at his lips as he took in the avalanche of new Post-its you’d added since the last time he’d seen it.
"Come on, Wren, don’t play innocent," he said, rolling onto his side to get a better look at you. "Admit you like it and admit you don’t just like it because it’s a 'romance,' but because of those spicy scenes you’d love to try for the first time in your life." He chuckled, and you let the book slide just enough for him to see your eyes a mix of embarrassment and something else.
Your cheeks were a soft pink, a stark contrast to the burgundy of his shirt, which you were still wearing. Niki thought you looked beautiful, but most of all, he thought your little pout was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
"Niki, spicy scenes are in every book these days," you shot back, trying to sound confident. "You shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not as innocent as you think. Okay, fine, I haven’t had… direct experience… but I know what happens between a man and a woman when they like each other. So…"
Before you could finish, Niki lunged at you with feline speed, closing the distance between you. His face was a breath away from yours, but instead of kissing your lips, he diverted to your earlobe, brushing it lightly with his lips.
"And what do you know, Wren?" he whispered. "Come on, tell me what you’d want the guy you like… who happens to be me… to do." He added that last part with the arrogance that usually made you furious but now, it just made you shiver.
You rolled your eyes, muttering that he was getting too full of himself, but your knuckles were white from how tightly you were gripping the book’s cover.
"Come on, Y/n," he insisted, his voice rough. "Tell me what those two protagonists do… what you’d want you and me to… replicate?"
You swallowed hard, feeling how much Niki was teasing you, pushing you. "I… I’d like to be kissed in other places… not just on the mouth," you confessed, closing your eyes.
Niki smiled against your skin, and you felt the warm, wet pressure of his lips just below your jaw, a slow kiss that traveled up toward your ear. "Keep going," he urged, still teasing.
"I’d like… yes, for your hands to touch me in places no one ever has… and at the same time…" You paused, feeling your cheeks burn. "I’d like to kiss you in a very specific spot."
Niki froze for a second at your words, his mind racing through all the possible scenarios of where you might want to kiss him. You heard him swallow hard, one eyebrow arching in an expression somewhere between disbelief and ecstasy.
"And where would you like to kiss me?"
You lifted a trembling finger and pressed it just below his waist, on the left side right where the lip-shaped tattoo marked his skin, just above the waistband of his pants. "Here."
Niki stared at you in silence for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. You looked at him with a slightly offended pout, but he never took his eyes off you. Still watching you, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and, in one fluid motion, pulled it off, tossing it somewhere onto the bed. You were left breathless at the sight of his defined biceps, sculpted chest dusted with ink, and that perfectly chiseled V-line that looked like it had been drawn by an artist obsessed with his muse and then there was the lip tattoo, now fully exposed in front of you. Niki sat properly in front of you, legs spread apart, hands resting on his thighs as he tapped his fingers lightly, fixing you with a small smirk.
"Come here, wren," he murmured.
You shifted cautiously, feeling a mix of vulnerability and nervousness, but deep down, you trusted Niki. You positioned yourself straddling him, and the physical contact was immediate, your bare thighs against the fabric of his pants, his large hands gripping your hips to pull you even closer between you.
Niki tilted his head back, watching you, and found you adorable in your hesitation, unable to meet his gaze.
"Come on, Wren… don’t be afraid. Show me what you want to do," he murmured, his voice rough. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your fingers in his messy hair, and leaned down slowly. You caught the scent of your sakura-scented body wash on his skin and chuckled before beginning to place small, chaste kisses, almost shyly, starting from the base of his jaw and working your way down to his prominent collarbone. But when you felt Niki’s hands tighten on your hips, almost begging for more pressure, your courage grew. Driven by newfound confidence, you began to suck lightly on his fair skin, alternating kisses with playful nips. Niki let out a stifled moan as his head fell back further against the headboard, his skin already flushing redder than usual. You smirked to yourself, thinking that maybe tomorrow, the other girls would notice that this guy was secretly yours.
"Fuck, Wren…" he breathed, his voice ragged. You found a sensitive spot just below his earlobe, and when you nipped at it, you felt him shiver beneath you. You smiled against his skin because you’d discovered his secret, you’d found a spot where he was weak, and you couldn’t wait to uncover what other places would make him beg and lose control.
You leaned down further, exploring his sculpted, ink-stained chest. The yellow light in the room made every muscle, every defined line from his summer of hard work stand out, and when your kisses reached his nipples, your curiosity took over. You licked one with the tip of your tongue, and Niki jolted because damn, he hadn’t expected that from you… No one had, honestly, given how "pure" you seemed in everyone’s eyes. He gently grabbed your hair, pulling just enough to force you to lift your gaze and meet his desire-clouded eyes.
"Don’t stop… please, keep going," he begged, and that plea in his usually gruff voice made you feel incredibly powerful. So you continued to tease him, alternating your tongue with deep kisses, until your hands slid down his tight abs, feeling how hard they were, like marble, under your fingertips. You paused for a moment, biting your lower lip as you admired the masterpiece of a body that looked like it had been drawn by an obsessed artist.
"You’re really beautiful, Niki," you whispered, slightly embarrassed but also aware of what you were saying to the guy in front of you. Niki’s breath caught in his throat because he was used to the easy compliments from campus girls, the empty words whispered in hallways. But hearing it from you—while you looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world—had a devastating effect on him. For the first time, he felt something unravel inside him, and he didn’t know if it was desire, love, or what he felt for you in that moment. But he didn’t mock you. Instead, he gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, looking at you softly and it was a new feeling for both of you.
"Y-You… you shouldn’t say things like that to me, Wren," he said, playing with your hair.
"Could you… lie down a little, Ki?" you asked, using the nickname that made him smile. He slid down the bed, propping himself up on his elbows to stay partially raised, desperate not to miss a single moment of what you were about to do because he was genuinely curious to see what you’d come up with. You tucked your hair behind your ears, and such a simple gesture made him swallow hard. With slightly trembling fingers, you hooked the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down a few centimeters, revealing the elastic waistband of his boxers—and right next to it, the red lip tattoo that had haunted your forbidden dreams for weeks. Niki let out a low whistle, trying to regain his usual cockiness.
"Well, well… the good girl’s aiming straight for the forbidden zone. Are you sure you can handle what you’ll find down there, Wren?"
You shot him one last challenging look before pressing your lips right over that tattoo, and the contact of your mouth with the warm skin of his lower abdomen silenced him instantly.
Niki clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the sheets, overwhelmed by the sight of you curled between his legs, kissing that intimate mark with devotion. Small shivers ran through his entire body.
You began to trace its outline with the tip of your tongue, lingering on the warm skin that pulsed with every touch, and Niki let out a beautiful moan as his back arched slightly off the mattress. You smiled against his skin because the camp’s "bad boy" was melting under your simple touch.
You moved lower, placing small, wet kisses just below his navel, brushing against the gray cotton edge of his boxers. Every movement you made, innocent on the surface but designed to drive him wild—and every time your body pressed against his thighs as you straddled him, you felt his erection grow harder, more insistent, pulsing against you.
"Fuck, Wren… you’re killing me," he cursed, his voice rough. Every time you placed small kisses right below the edge of his boxers, he couldn’t stay still because your lips always sought out his most sensitive spots, and he was reaching his limit.
"I don’t think you’re ready for a blowjob, Y/n… and if you keep this up, I’ll lose control. How about you stop teasing me and let… let me take charge? You’ve provoked me enough, little one. Earlier, you said you wanted to be kissed elsewhere… where?" he almost stammered, his voice shaking from how close he was to coming like a teenager if you kept teasing him with your movements and kisses. His hands slid down your thighs, squeezing them lightly in a possessive gesture that stole your breath.
"Look how you’re trembling… does it turn you on to know I’m the one affecting you like this? The guy you’re supposed to hate, the one you’re supposed to stay away from?"
You nodded as you sucked on the fair skin of his lower abdomen, instinctively tightening your thighs around his hips. Niki cursed again, his hand sliding up your thigh and squeezing the flesh with just enough pressure.
He gently rolled you onto your back, stretching you out on the "super-bed," and took a second to adjust his boxers before positioning himself above you, looming over you with his muscular frame. But he kept himself propped up on his forearms, careful not to crush you, and traced the edge of your lips with his thumb, his expression suddenly serious and protective.
"First of all… are you sure you want this? Sure you want me to touch you?"
"Yes," you answered, and he smiled—but it was a different kind of smile. There was no trace of teasing, no hint of the guy who loved to rile you up. Just a softness you’d never have associated with the Niki everyone described.
"I know no one’s ever touched you before, Wren. And I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything. We’ll use three colors, okay? Like a traffic light. Green if you’re good, yellow if you’re embarrassed or want to slow down, and red if you want me to stop immediately. No pressure, got it?" He caressed your cheek as he spoke, and you were struck by how this rebel without rules was now the guy trying to make you feel safe and comfortable.
"It’s perfect," you whispered. Niki leaned down and stole a soft, chaste kiss before his hands slid under the burgundy shirt you were wearing. You felt his large, rough hands against your smooth, warm skin, and it was as if they were made to fit perfectly around your hips. He began lifting the fabric centimeter by centimeter, revealing your sun-kissed stomach, and murmured:
"You’re so soft…" He leaned down to kiss your skin, alternating gentle kisses with light sucks that made you gasp, and used the tip of his tongue to tease your ribs, making you let out small, muffled moans—part pleasure, part tickle.
"Color, Y/N?" he asked against your skin.
"Green…" you stammered, burying your fingers in his blond hair and pulling him closer.
"Can I play with your breasts?" he asked hopefully, his hand already toying with the hem of your shirt. The embarrassment was off the charts, but the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious, desirable thing in the world gave you the courage to nod.
"Green," you answered, and he chuckled. "That’s my good girl."
You pushed the shirt up over your collarbones, letting the fabric bunch under your chin. When your breasts were finally free, the dim light accentuated every curve of your beautiful body. Niki’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the contrast between your Montana-tanned skin and the pale, almost crescent-moon shape where your bikini had protected you all summer.
Niki had always thought you had a gorgeous body, but he hadn’t realized how much and he ran a hand through his hair.
"Fuck, Wren…" he cursed under his breath, his eyes devouring every inch of you. "You’re… you’re stunning."
He didn’t waste time. Like a man devoted to you, he cupped your breasts with his large hands. The contrast between the softness of your skin and the roughness of his calloused palms marked from summer work and weights made you let out a deep sigh. With one hand, he began torturing your right breast, using his thumb to press and roll your hardened nipple, while his mouth descended on the left one. The heat of his tongue enveloping the sensitive tip made you arch your back, and Niki sucked hard, sending electric shocks straight to your core for the first time. Without meaning to, you pushed your hips upward, unconsciously seeking contact with his hard, pulsing length pressing against his boxers, right against your thin lace panties.
"Ah… Niki…" you panted, digging your fingers into his blond hair and pulling him closer. He responded with a moan, loving how close you were.
"Christ, how the hell did I go all summer without putting my hands on you?" he muttered as his left hand squeezed your breast a little too eagerly, his possessive grip making you gasp.
"K-Keep going… but gentler on the left, Ki… I’m really sensitive there… my period’s coming soon." You stammered, and Niki lifted his gaze, his lips glistening, as he continued teasing your clit through your panties and squeezing your breast. A playful grin spread across his face.
"Fuck, that’s why they’re so full and hard…" he murmured, then began tracing slow circles with his tongue around your areola, blowing on it between kisses, savoring your endless shivers. After what felt like forever, he moved lower, licking the underside of your breast with long, deliberate strokes of his tongue, then climbing back up to nip at the pink bud with extreme care.
While his mouth made you feel so good, his hand slid down your smooth thigh. You felt his fingers creep up centimeter by centimeter, tickling the inside of your thigh and making your legs tremble, almost closing on instinct because no one had ever touched you there before.
"Color, Wren?" he whispered against your skin.
"Green…" you managed to gasp as he chuckled softly, his fingers not stopping, they slid under the elastic edge of your panties, finding you already wet and warm. Niki let out a sound of pure approval at how excited you already were, knowing it was all because of him, and that no one else would ever have this privilege in his life.
"Fuck, Shorty… you’re already ready for me," he murmured as his middle finger began rubbing your clit through your damp panties.
Your body arched with a jolt, overwhelmed by a pleasure so intense it was almost too much to handle. To increase the pressure, Niki pushed his hips forward, grinding his hard length against your still-covered core, and you let out a loud moan that filled the room. Embarrassed, you immediately clapped your hands over your mouth to stifle the sound, but Niki stopped, grabbing your wrists and pulling them away from your face, fixing you with an almost fierce intensity.
"No, no, little one… be a good girl and let me hear everything," he said, his voice rough. "I want to hear you moan, I want to hear you scream if that’s what you need. No one can hear us, remember? There’s only the storm outside… it’s just you and me here. So please, don’t feel embarrassed if you want to moan my name...it’s beautiful."
He returned his focus to your breasts, alternating hungry licks with gentle sucks on the lower curve. When he pulled away for a second, he noticed a small purple mark beginning to form on your fair skin. He thought about how he’d love to cover you in these marks, but he knew that soon you’d be back in your swimsuit or canoeing, so he’d save that for later.
His hands slid back to your hips, gripping them tightly, while his fingers inside your panties increased their rhythm.
"Green or yellow, Wren?" he asked.
"Green… please, green," you whispered, feeling him tease the edge of your panties. Niki pulled the thin lace asidewith a slowness that drove you wild, letting the cool air of the bungalow brush against your exposed, aroused skin. When his thumb made direct contact with your clit, the world around you seemed to dissolve—you’d never felt anything like this before, and it was so good.
"Tongue or fingers, Wren?" he whispered, and your eyes widened in surprise at his bluntness.
"I… I trust you. You choose," you said, embarrassed by his question. Niki lifted himself slightly on his arms, studying your expression as he saw how you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him at first.
"Green or yellow, Y/N?" he asked, stroking your cheek. You bit your lower lip, feeling the heat spread all the way to your ears from embarrassment.
"Green… it’s just that I’ve never done anything like this before."
He nodded, and with a gentle motion, he leaned down to place a chaste, reassuring kiss on your forehead, and that touch made you melt.
"Relax. I’ll make you feel good, Wren. Whatever you say, I’ll stop instantly, okay?"
With a fluid motion, he pulled your panties off completely, tossing them somewhere unknown. When his eyes fell on your swollen, glistening intimacy, he let out a deep breath and leaned down, blowing lightly on your clit, making you jolt from the contrast. Then, he gently spread your legs, draping them over his shoulders. For the first time in your life, you were completely exposed, vulnerable under his gaze. Without another word, his warm tongue dove into your clit, and you moaned instantly—it was a strange, wet, completely new sensation, and you finally understood why all the girls said they loved foreplay with guys.
"Fuck, you taste so good…" he cursed against your skin, continuing to tease you with small, circular licks in figure-eights, alternating pressure until you arched your back against the mattress. Feeling you were ready, Niki slid a finger between your folds, and you tensed instinctively, clenching your muscles. He stopped immediately, feeling his finger fully inside you.
"Relax, little one. It’ll be okay. Let me take care of you," he murmured.
You nodded, trying to regulate your breathing, and when his finger slowly slid in centimeter by centimeter, a sense of fullness you’d never felt before flooded you.
"Fuck, you’re so tight… you’re swallowing my finger, Wren," he said as he began to move it in a rhythm that made you tremble, sliding in and out with a patience that was driving you mad—because you wanted more, but you were too shy to ask for it. But Niki understood instantly.
"Can I slide another one in?" he asked, his eyes fixed on yours as they rolled back. You nodded frenetically, unable to speak.
"Good girl… I knew deep down you were this good, that you’d like these slightly dirty things," he teased, and when his middle finger, marked by small calluses from summer work, slid in beside the other, you screamed his name.
"Niki!" Your hands flew to his hair, pulling at it for support as he began to pump with more vigor.
"Damn, Y/n… you’re taking me so well…" he cursed, savoring the sound of your moans, which grew sharper and sharper. He began to coordinate his movements: while his fingers worked inside you with decisive thrusts, his mouth returned to your clit, sucking and licking in sync with his fingers to give you even more pleasure. That double stimulation made you lose all contact with reality, and you screamed even louder, your legs trembling on his shoulders
Niki manipulated you, both mentally and physically with expert precision, slowing down just as you were about to shatter, only to watch you beg for him. His fingers pumped deeper inside you, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision, and his voice was a dark, velvety whisper against your skin.
"Look at you, Shorty. Look how well you take me… were you born to be like this under me, huh?"
Shivers raced up your spine, and an unbearable heat spread through your body. You gasped, tears pricking at your eyes from the frustration of pleasure as he continued to tease you, his fingers pumping harder inside you while his teeth grazed your clit just enough to drive you wild.
"Ki… please… I… I need to come!" you cried, your voice breaking.
But instead of giving you what you craved, he smirked that infuriating, arrogant smirk—the one you usually hated but now loved—and rather than letting you climax, he used his teeth to tease your clit while his fingers pumped even deeper, searching for that most sensitive spot inside you.
"You want to come, little one? Then take it."
He thrust his fingers harder, now that your body had adjusted to their size, with a frenetic rhythm that gave you no escape. And then—you came, screaming his name, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Niki loved how his name sounded on your lips, how one hand was fisted in his hair while the other clawed at the sheets, nearly tearing them. Your body convulsed in endless spasms, your arousal dripping down his fingers and thighs but he didn’t stop.
While you were still riding the high of your orgasm, he leaned down and licked away every trace of your pleasure, the intensity making you whimper.
"It’s too much… Niki, stop, it’s too much!" you sobbed, but he lifted his head just enough to lick you again, murmuring:
"It’s never too much for you, Wren. Look how you’re trembling… you’re pathetic and beautiful at the same time."His hand gripped you possessively, pulling you flush against him. "Do you really think I’d let you rest now, after showing you how good your body can feel?"
And that night, with only the storm’s roar breaking the silence, Niki kept his promise: he gave you no mercy, pushing you to the edge two more times until you were nothing but a trembling, whimpering mess, obsessed with his touch, your body singing his name like a prayer.
When everyone woke up at dawn on the fifth day, the Montana sky was finally a brilliant, cloudless blue, streaked only by the chirping of birds. As the bungalow doors swung open, everyone breathed in that crisp air and the scent of wet pine and fresh grass the kind everyone loved.
The general gathering in the sports pavilion was a chaos of voices and laughter from the kids, who had been cooped up in the dorms with emergency activities. They were all excited to run and bicker with each other again. You smiled as Nina came sprinting toward you and Niki, hugging you both and complaining about how boring it had been to be stuck inside 24/7 with the other kids.
Thankfully, the damage had been minimal: a few broken branches had fallen, there were piles of pine needles and dead leaves forming slippery carpets, and a couple of clotheslines had blown away.
But the real surprise, the one everyone was whispering about and that had shocked even the counselors and camp directors was Niki. He was no longer the sullen guy who ignored everyone, shooting hateful glares at anyone who dared breathe in his direction. He was… softer? He’d always been good with the kids, but now, with the other counselors, you noticed he talked, helped, even smiled without grumbling. Sure, he wasn’t suddenly a ray of sunshine, but most of all, he seemed to have a magnet pulling him constantly into your orbit.
He teased you endlessly: if you were carrying a bucket, he’d tap the back of your knee to throw you off balance, and the kids would giggle every time they saw you two bickering from morning to night. If you were talking to another counselor, he’d insert himself into the conversation even if it had nothing to do with him. Sometimes, you’d even steal the sticks he’d just picked up, only to drop them again while he gathered more from another spot. When he’d look up, you’d just shrug, but every time your eyes met, there was a secret in his gaze—the memory of those nights in the bungalow, getting to know each other, teasing, touching.
In the afternoon, while you were setting up for the bonfire you’d all agreed to have that evening—a way to finally reunite everyone—you were arranging chairs in a circle. The heat was starting to build, so you stepped behind the tool shed to find some shade and water. But before you could take three steps, a strong hand grabbed your arm, pulling you behind the shed, into the shadows of the wood and foliage. Niki leaned over you, his hands settling on your hips.
"Hey, wren," he murmured with a smug grin. You looked around in terror, afraid a kid or worse, the camp director might appear around the corner.
"Niki! What are you doing? If someone sees us...."
"I’ve been trying to get you alone all day. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this," he said, reaching out to gently tug one of your braids, watching as your face flushed a deep pink but suddenly, you felt bold. You rolled your eyes, placing your hands on his bare chest under his open shirt.
"Mmm, so the big bad boy of summer camp misses his… girlfriend?" you teased, and the words "his girlfriend"hung between you, heavy and new. Niki flinched, he’d never thought you’d actually become his girl, and he your boy. He didn’t answer right away, but his eyes lit up with a new light, and with a fluid, decisive motion, he pushed you back against the rough wooden planks of the shed, pinning you with his body.
"Shut up, Wren," he murmured, his lips a millimeter from yours.
"Who would’ve thought," you chuckled, rising onto your toes to bury your fingers in his wind-tousled blond hair. "The guy who loved keeping to himself, who was grumpy all the time… needs attention?" You teased him, and before you could finish, he leaned in and kissed you possessively.
Your arms wrapped around his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And Niki wasn’t shy: as his tongue slid between your lips, claiming you, his right hand slid down, slipping into the back pocket of your jeans with a possessive grip, squeezing your flesh and lifting you slightly against him so you could feel just how reactive he was to your touch. His other hand pressed into your side.
"Fuck, I’ve missed you… you have no idea," he growled against your mouth. You smiled against his lips, nipping lightly at his lower lip, enjoying the small shudder it pulled from him. But just as the atmosphere was about to get too heated, the sharp sound of breaking branches and the laughter of approaching kids reached you from just a few meters away. With a jolt of panic, you pushed him away, trying to compose yourself as your heart pounded too hard. Niki took a step back, chuckling as he watched you reclaim your "good girl" aura.
"We… we should go help the others," you murmured, trying to regain a professional tone. "Otherwise, they’ll get suspicious… The director already has her eye on you for how much you’ve changed these past few days."
He nodded but didn’t take his eyes off you until you glanced back at him one last time before disappearing around the corner. Niki ran a hand through his messy blond hair, making it even wilder, and stayed there for a second in the shed’s shadow.
"Fuck…" he muttered to himself, shaking his head with an incredulous smile on his face. "That girl’s gonna kill me before the end of summer."
The atmosphere at camp had become electric a mix of childlike excitement and the bittersweet melancholy of feeling autumn knocking at the door. The end-of-summer dance wasn’t just an event; it was the culmination of all those months spent under the sun—laughing, joking, playing cards, but also fighting, teasing, discovering crushes, and forging friendships under Montana’s scorching heat.
While the kitchen crew churned out endless trays of snacks and finger sandwiches, the outdoor activities team had set up chairs, tables, and colored lights woven through the willow branches by the lake, turning the gazebo into a kind of crystal chandelier with golden threads. The kids couldn’t wait to see all those lights lit up.
The weeks spent in the decoupage group had been exhilarating, you’d watched piles of card stock transform into messages of love or simple friendship, meant for their dance partners. Your heart tightened every time a child asked for your help to glue something, to draw, or to write the name of the person they liked.
That afternoon, you were leaning against the metal slide, watching the scene unfold a few meters away: Nina had asked you to go with her to Thomas, and with her perfect braids bouncing on her shoulders, she was facing her biggest challenge yet, Thomas, a perpetually grumpy-looking kid with his arms almost always crossed and his gaze usually directed elsewhere, as if a thousand thoughts were swirling in his head. For some strange reason, he reminded you terribly of Niki at the start of the summer.
You watched as Nina handed him the invitation—the one she’d worked on for hours, drawing a Formula 1 single-seaterwith the numbers of Thomas’s favorite drivers on the side. And when Thomas lowered his guard, you saw the tiniest lift at the corner of his mouth. It was a silent victory for both you and Nina. You heard Thomas ask, "Why me?"
Nina was quiet for a moment, then said, "Well, you’re the only one who doesn’t talk much but says everything with his eyes or his face… And it was nice when I scraped my knee and you took me to the infirmary, and how every day, without anyone seeing, you changed my bandages especially the pink ones with princesses. So that’s why I want you to come find me at the dance for a little while."
Nina didn’t wait for an answer. She planted a small kiss on his cheek and ran toward you, her big eyes shining.
"He’ll definitely come find me," she declared, tucking a braid behind her ear. "Wow, Nina, you really have a lot of self-confidence. Never let anyone take that away from you when you grow up, okay? Promise?" you said, squeezing her small hand in yours.
But as you started walking toward the lake, the conversation took a turn you never expected.
"Who are you going to the dance with? I hope Niki asked you to go with him," she whispered, as if revealing a state secret, skipping along beside you. Your heart pounded at her words.
"Why… why would Niki ask me to the dance, Nina?" you asked, trying to sound indifferent, but the little girl just smiled knowingly.
"Well, because he likes you, Y/n. He’s been talking about you to me all summer. And I’ll tell you a secret...these braids?" She giggled, covering her mouth as if she’d just shared something she wasn’t supposed to. "He does them for me every morning because he learned how by watching you do yours in the mirror."
You were stunned by the image of Niki: his big, calloused hands, his famous rings carefully braiding a little girl’s hair, trying to mimic your movements. Your eyes almost welled up as you thought back to all those mornings in the bungalow, when you’d felt his burning gaze on the back of your neck through the mirror as you separated the strands. You’d thought… well, you’d thought he was judging you or just waiting his turn for the bathroom. But instead, he’d been memorizing every movement so he could replicate it on Nina’s hair.
"Nina, I… I and Niki, we’re just… I mean, he always teases me, it’s not possible that...."
But Nina wasn’t done demolishing your defenses. She added, with a touch of cheeky confidence:
"And besides, he should ask you because a couple of weeks ago, I saw you kissing near the tool shed. You’re not very discreet, you know? We kids saw you holding hands, or Niki pulling you away out of nowhere… or him coming to get you every time survival class in the woods ended. Those are things boys in love do… like my dad with my mom."
Your world tilted. The phrase "We kids saw you" echoed in your head like a gong. If seven- or eight-year-olds had figured it all out if they’d seen you pressed against that shed with Niki’s lips on yours then the entire camp knew. The other counselors, the director, maybe even the kitchen staff.
You brought a hand to your face and laughed nervously as Nina pulled you along, but before you went in, she said:
"I’m glad you’re Niki’s princess and not me… I’m too little for him but if I were his age, he’d already be mine!" She burst out laughing and ran off, leaving you alone on the path, your mind spinning.
The day of the dance had finally arrived, Niki had been asking you for days now and yet, you almost wished it never would. It was the last evening you’d spend together. Tomorrow, everyone would return to Chicago, and life would go back to normal, as if nothing had changed. Sure, you and Niki both attended the same university, but what would really change between you? You shook your head. Those questions would have answers in the coming days, not tonight. Tonight was meant to be perfect.
You gave yourself one last look in the mirror: the white and red top stood out against your sun-kissed, golden skin, the result of months under the open sky. The jeans with red stars hugged your curves as if they’d been tailored for you, and the soft, deliberately messy French braid gave you a playful yet polished look. When the sakura-scented perfumefilled the air, you felt ready.
As you stepped outside, you saw Niki leaning against the table, wearing his gray and red hoodie—the one he’d given you that night—unzipped, revealing his bare chest. When his eyes landed on you, you watched him swallow hard, and you smiled at the effect you had on him.
"Fuck, Wren… you look stunning," he murmured, his voice rough, and pulled you close, burying his nose in the crook of your neck as if he wanted to memorize your scent for the months to come.
"You don’t look so bad yourself, Niki," you replied with a sly smile, playing with the strings of his hoodie. "Though a shirt would...."
"Dream on, Wren. I’ll wear a shirt only at my graduation, my wedding, or a job interview not for a dance where there’ll be more brats stuffing their faces with snacks than people actually dancing to TikTok songs." He chuckled, pulling you even closer, and you played with his hair.
"You’ll have to cut this hair when we get back to Chicago," you said.
He rolled his eyes. "Mmm, why? I like it this length. Otherwise, when your hands go through it, you won’t be able to play with it or pull it." He grinned, and your cheeks flushed red. You gave him a light swat on the chest and muttered, "Pervert." His hand tried to slip into your back pocket, but you shook your head.
"Come on, Niki, we’re already late." He sighed, but when he placed his cowboy hat on your head, his expression changed.
It wasn’t just an accessory, it was a camp tradition, a cowboy ritual. He didn’t consider himself a cowboy by any means, but seeing you in his hat, the brim casting a slight shadow over your eyes, triggered a sense of possessivenesshe’d never felt with anyone before. In that moment, Niki realized you weren’t just his date for the night—you were his girl, symbolically claimed in front of everyone. The thought that in a few hours you’d both be on the train back to the city made him want to claim every second of the evening, as if to tell the whole world that you’d still be his in Chicago, too.
"Let me see…" he murmured, adjusting the brim with his fingers, which brushed your forehead. "Now no one will have any doubts about who your 'escort' is tonight." He smirked, and you dragged him in front of the bungalow’s mirror to capture the moment.
Niki huffed, pretending to be annoyed by your need for photos, but as soon as you positioned yourself, he stepped behind you. You felt his heat at your back, and with one hand, he gently lifted your chin, forcing you to look up, while with the other, he tilted the hat to create a small, private shadow between you, partially obscuring the phone’s frame. Then, just as the flash went off, he kissed your cheek and he knew one of those photos would end up as his phone’s wallpaper.
The warm lights danced on the dark surface of the lake, creating a magical atmosphere, and the air was thick with the familiar scent of campfires burnt wood, caramel popcorn, and cotton candy sticking to the kids’ fingers as they ran around, laughing and playing.
You and Lia had taken dozens of photos that looked like they’d come straight from a 2016 Tumblr feed: posing on a hay bale, holding a slice of pizza so big it covered half your torso, laughing with your teeth clamped around the rim of a red plastic cup, always looking back at the camera with flushed cheeks. At one point, you’d even herded a group of kids into the photo booth, helping them put on giant star-shaped glasses or fake mustaches until the line was empty and just as you stepped out of the booth, still giggling from your last "diva pose" with Lia, you saw Niki’s massive figure standing in front of you, arms crossed, that crooked half-smile that annoyed you but also sent a thrill through you.
"Have you two finished monopolizing the photo booth? There are other people who’d like to take some memories home, you know," he said, looking between you and Lia. Lia, never one to back down, pulled you closer.
"Oh yeah, Niki? And who exactly would you want to take pictures with? It’s not like you’ve become best friends with anyone here in the last three months!" she teased. He rolled his eyes, but his gaze never left your flushed face.
"Lia, there’s only one person in this entire camp I’d want a photo with, and that’s your best friend. So scram, please."
Lia grinned knowingly when she heard that, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. "Damn, this guy finally marked his territory. Thank God for that storm… you two were exhausting to watch—24/7 of teasing with zero payoff! Even the best K-dramas don’t have that much slow burn!" But before she disappeared into the crowd, she winked at you and mimed a "go for it" gesture with her fingers, reminding you of the pact you’d made: no thoughts for tomorrow just live in the present.
Niki took your hand, his warm fingers intertwining perfectly with yours, and nodded toward the photo booth entrance. The tiny plastic cubicle was clearly designed for kids, not a guy who was nearly six-foot-three. Niki went in first, muttering under his breath as his head nearly hit the ceiling. He sat on the swivel stool, leaving barely any room for you. As you hesitantly tried to perch on the edge of the seat, he grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap.
"Sit here," he ordered, patting his thighs. You hesitated, and he huffed against your skin.
"Come on, Shorty, stop pretending to be some innocent girl. You’ve sat on these legs in way less chaste ways than this, and we both know it." He chuckled, and your cheeks burned as he settled you sideways on his knees. One hand slid up your bare leg, squeezing lightly, while the other rested on your exposed side, his thumb tracing hypnotic circleson your skin.
"Pick the filter, Shorty, but do it for two strips
one’s mine, and the other’s yours," he said. You nodded, not realizing that even choosing a filter would turn into a playful fight.
"Let’s do the one with the little stars! It’s cute!" you suggested, pressing the option.
"Stars? Wren, I have a reputation to uphold. We’re not middle schoolers—go with the black minimalist one," he argued, trying to nudge your finger away from the screen.
"Your reputation died the day you learned how to braid Nina’s hair. Deal with it!" you teased, and after two minutes of bickering and playful shoves, you settled on the most basic option: a vertical filmstrip border with four shots, ten seconds apart.
First photo: The countdown started, and you exchanged an amused glance, bursting into spontaneous, slightly shy laughter as you looked at each other, Niki holding you tight, you trying not to fall off the stool.
Second photo:
You turned and kissed his cheek, and Niki rolled his eyes with a fake indifferent expression as if your kiss on his face(not even his lips!) didn’t affect him. But the way his hand tightened on your side told a different story.
Third photo:
The mood had shifted. Niki gently moved your French braid aside, exposing your neck, and you locked eyes intensely. There was nothing shy about your faces now—close, hungry, his gaze full of possession, as if he wanted to make it clear that he was all you’d ever need.
Fourth photo:
Just as the flash went off for the last time, Niki closed the distance, capturing your lips in a real, deep, possessive kiss just like him. He loved making it clear to everyone that you were his, and the photo captured it perfectly: you with your eyes closed, his hands pulling you even closer, his cowboy hat tilted slightly backward.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, now knowing he was your safe harbor, your fingers sinking into his messy blond hair at the nape of his neck. The photo booth felt even smaller with how close you were, and Niki didn’t waste a second. His hands settled firmly on your hips, his thumbs tracing small designs on the bare skin exposed by the cut of your top.
When your lips parted in a soft moan, he took it as an invitation, and his tongue slid into your mouth, claiming you. You let out a vibrant sound, and if anyone had been outside, they would’ve heard it but honestly, you didn’t care anymore. In that moment, there was only you two, lost in a mix of submission and longing that made Niki’s muscles tense as he felt you so close. You tried to shift, seeking even more intimate contact between your bodies, but he held you firmly in place, his grip on your hips pinning you to his lap, as if to say he was the one setting the pace—even in there.
When the photo strip finally slid out, the mechanical sound of the machine seemed to bring you back to reality. Niki snatched it quickly, almost fearful that someone else might see it. You both fell silent, staring at that last shot, the kiss captured by the flash was real, unfiltered. It looked so authentic that maybe, in that moment, Niki realized he’d found his person and he’d never expected it to be you.
"Fuck," he whispered against your lips, and you caressed the slightly rough skin of his jaw, where the stubble was just starting to grow. You bit your lip, still tasting him, and felt a flicker of anxiety creeping in because in a few hours, everything might change.
"Do… do you want to stay at the party, or go back to the bungalow?" you murmured, lowering your gaze and starting to nervously twist the end of your braid between your fingers. Niki watched you in silence. He knew, he could read every tic, every hesitation in you. He knew you were feeling uncertain, and he lifted your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look into his eyes darker than ever under the neon lights of the booth.
"Why do you want to go back to the bungalow? Aren’t you having fun out here, wren? You’ve been excited about this party for weeks, and now you want to leave already?"
"Everything’s perfect out here," you started, trying to find the right words, not wanting to seem embarrassed by what you were about to say. "But I… I’d like to spend the last night alone. I mean… completely alone. In our bungalow and we could… I don’t know…" You gestured between the two of you, and Niki lifted your chin with his finger, forcing you to meet his gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. He silenced you, pressing a finger to your lips.
"You’re overthinking, Wren. Tell me what you really want… no beating around the bush." He watched you with eyes that were almost glossy with a new determination, mixed with shyness? But Niki wanted to hear you say it.
"I want you to be mine tonight… and me to be yours," you said, starting to nervously fidget with one of the silver rings on his finger. After dropping that bomb, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid he might push you awayor mock you but Niki visibly swallowed, not expecting such a blunt answer from you, it wasn’t like you at all. For a moment, the Niki from the start of summer disappeared, replaced by a guy who looked almost dazed by the luck of having met you.
"Are… are you sure, Y/n?" he asked, his voice almost timid, which made you slightly doubt the guy in front of you. "You know that if we cross that threshold tonight… there’s no going back."
You nodded firmly, intertwining your hand with his, taking the initiative to stand up. Niki sighed deeply, running his other hand through his hair in a gesture of pure agitation because in that moment, he didn’t know if he should feel like the luckiest guy on the planet or the most terrified at the idea of not being worthy of your first time, of not being gentle enough or unforgettable enough for you. He was afraid of ruining everything you’d built over those summer months.
"Are you 100% sure, Wren?" His voice was rough as he hovered over you, his forearm muscles tense from the effort of not pressing too hard against your body.
You rolled your eyes with fake exasperation at his question. "Green, lime green, eater green…" you listed, naming every shade you could think of, and Niki shook his head with a crooked smile.
"You’re such a little brat, you know that?" he murmured, pulling you in for a quick kiss before his hands slid decisively toward your hips. When the button of your jeans popped open and the zipper slid down, the atmosphere in the room shifted drastically.
Niki pulled off your jeans, never taking his eyes off you. And when his gaze fell on the red lace of your semi-thong, his breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, he was completely thrown off by your lingerie. He ran a hand through his blond hair, messing it up even more, thinking about how innocent you must’ve seemed to everyone at camp… but not to him. Not after discovering what you read, what you wore to drive him wild. When he heard your voice, he snapped back to reality.
"Do you like it?" you whispered, enjoying his shock with a fake innocent look. Niki let out a sound that was half groan, half choked laugh.
"I didn’t think the 'good girl' of summer camp was hiding these kinds of secrets under her clothes. I knew about all those romance books you try to hide from me… but this, Y/N!"
His hand slid down your inner thigh, and the cold silver of his ring against your burning skin made you jolt violently. You wanted to tease him, drive him crazy.
"There’s a lot you still don’t know about me, Niki…" you stammered, trying to keep a shred of composure. He closed his eyes for a second he’d figured out the game you were playing.
"And what would those be?" he challenged.
"Let’s find out together, shall we?" you replied.
Niki shifted, kneeling between your legs with a slowness that was pure torture. He grabbed your ankle and brought it almost to his face, then began kissing your skin, starting from your ankle, moving up your calf to the curve of your knee. Every kiss was almost torture for you because he was doing it on purpose, going so slow. Each touch was like a brand, alternating kisses with light sucks, and when he reached your thigh, his kisses became deeper, more insistent, leaving a tingling sensation that spread through your entire body.
When he buried his face in the inside of your thigh, the heat of his hot breath made you arch your back.
"Niki… stop teasing me," you pleaded.
But he didn’t listen. His kisses alternated with playful nips on the tenderest part of your thigh, followed by slow licksthat made you lose all sense of direction.
"Higher…" you whispered without thinking, and Niki froze, lifting his gaze to you with a serious look.
"Since when do you get to give me orders, Wren?" he asked, kissing you just one centimeter higher, driving you mad because that was his intent. From the first moment he’d seen you, he’d wanted to get inside your head, and he was succeeding.
"Please… Niki, don’t make me wait like this, you’re driving me crazy…" you stammered, your hands clawing at the sheets to keep from grabbing him directly. He chuckled, satisfied with his effect on you, and lifted your leg even higher. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed your clit hard through the thin veil of black lace, laughing softly.
"Damn it…" you cursed through your teeth, arching your back and digging your fingers into his hair, not knowing if you wanted to pull him deeper or push him away because you didn’t even know yourself. It was definitely calculated torture, what he was doing to you, and you responded by squirming beneath him.
"You’re a bastard, take this off and touch me for real!"
But Niki didn’t care about your urgency. He wanted to hear you beg, wanted to see how far your resistance would go before he made you completely his. So he let go of your leg but didn’t return to loom over you with his full weight. Instead, he crawled up your body with the same slowness as a predator, leaving a trail of fire with his kisses. He started at the elastic edge of your lace, then your navel, moving up your stomach where your muscles twitched involuntarily at every touch of his tongue. When he reached your breasts, he paused to admire them in the dim light, as if he hadn’t already memorized every inch of you, while your uneven, pleading breaths lift
He leaned down with surgical precision, capturing your hardened nipple between his lips. The contrast was delicious and intoxicating you’d never felt anything like it before. The wet heat of his mouth against your skin, and his cold, silver-ringed hand sliding up to squeeze and tease your other breast, made you even more pliable under his touch. You moaned his name a sound Niki loved hearing from your lips as your fingers tightened in his blond hair, pulling him deeper.
He sensed your impatience and chuckled right against your sensitive skin, making your chest vibrate. Then he dragged his teeth over the tip of your nipple before blowing a cool breath over it, making you jolt violently. But you had no intention of just lying there. You wanted him to feel the same burning need you were feeling. So you hooked your legs around his hips, pulling him into your personal space, and began moving your hips instinctively, grinding your lace-covered intimacy against the hard, unmistakable bulge of his jeans.
Niki froze for a second, caught off guard. But when he realized your movements weren’t accidental, that you were deliberately seeking friction against his length, trying to drive him wild, he stiffened.
"Fuck, Wren… stop moving like that if you don’t want me to lose control before I even take my clothes off," he growled, his voice low. But you didn’t stop. If anything, you pushed harder, chasing that heat that seemed like the only thing capable of extinguishing the fire inside you. And when he finally matched your rhythm, pushing back against you in a synchronized motion, a simultaneous moan escaped both your lips.
"Please…" you whispered, almost without realizing it. Niki lifted himself a few centimeters, surprised to hear you begging him for something.
"What are you begging for, Wren? A month ago, you couldn’t even stand to breathe the same air as me in this room. And now? What are you begging for?" he asked, challenging you with his gaze. But you looked back at him, unafraid to show just how much you wanted him.
"You couldn’t stand me as a roommate either, and yet here you are, worshipping my body like it’s your only religion. So stop talking, Niki, because we’ve teased each other all summer, and I think it’s time to let all this electricity explode—the kind everyone saw except us."
After your answer, Niki didn’t waste another second. With a fluid motion, he grabbed the edges of your thong, his patience was completely gone. He pulled your panties off in one sharp motion, letting them slide down your legs and leaving you completely bare beneath him. When his gaze fell on your glistening, swollen intimacy, a victorious grinspread across his face. He felt like a king—the first to see you like this, the first to possess your vulnerability. And he knew the mark he’d leave on you tonight would be indelible, because only he would have you like this.
"Where’s the girl who was talking too much a minute ago?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched you look away in embarrassment.
"She’s still here, Niki… don’t count your chickens just yet," you shot back, trying to reclaim a shred of dignity as you spread your legs for him. That gesture drove him wild with desire. He grabbed your thighs and hoisted them onto his shoulders, leaving you completely exposed and at his mercy. Then he leaned in, and his hot tongue flicked against your clit in one swift motion. You moaned at the sensation of his tongue against your core.
"God, Wren… are you still this sensitive?" he chuckled against your skin, feeling how you trembled. "It’s not the first time tonight—you should be used to my mouth by now."
"Just… just shut up!" you cursed, but his only response was to intertwine his hand with yours, pressing it firmly against the mattress. That gesture...so intimate and protective in the middle of all this lust made your heart beat harder than anything else, because Niki could act like a jerk, but when it came to you, he became almost someone else.
His other hand held your hip in place while his tongue began to work in perfect figure-eights, pressing insistently on the tip of your clit.
"I need to prepare you, Wren," he murmured between kisses against your folds. "If you want me to slide my cock inside you without hurting you, you need to be ready to take me."
You nodded frantically, unable to form coherent sentences. And when you felt his index finger tease your entrance, coating itself in your arousal before pushing in slowly, you felt so good, yet so protected by him because in that moment, you were trusting each other completely.
"Look how well you take this… and it’s just one finger. Yet here you are, already begging for more with those moans of yours, huh? You’re just a spoiled little girl who’s discovered how good it feels to be ruined by me." He smirked, and you moaned loudly as he began pumping his finger inside you, filling you in a way that made you feel complete yet starving for more and when he decided you could handle it, he slid his middle finger in as well.
The impact was shocking, you felt the cold edge of his silver ring against the hot, sensitive flesh of your lips, and you screamed, arching your back and clenching your legs around his face, swallowing his fingers up to the knuckle. The contrast between the icy metal and the fire inside you made you lose your mind.
"Niki… oh God, the ring… it’s… it’s too much," you stammered but Niki looked up at you from below, his lips glistening with your arousal, and pushed harder, coordinating the movement of his fingers with his tongue, which continued to torment your clit. When you started to cry from the intensity of pleasure, he froze for a second, doubting if he’d hurt you but then he heard your words.
"I’m… I’m about to come… Niki, please, don’t stop!"
He relaxed, and a predatory smile lit up his face. "Fuck, it’s so hot watching you cry while you beg me to make you come." He curved his fingers inside you, and you, overwhelmed by the double stimulation, pulled his hair with desperate force, clawing at the sheets with your other hand as the climax swept over you. The final contrast, his tongue, his fingers, and that cold metal made you explode against his mouth in a violent orgasm that left you trembling and spent, coming against both his mouth and his fingers.
"Fuck… that’s my good girl," Niki murmured.
When Niki pulled away from you, you swallowed hard. He leaned in again to give you a soft, lingering kiss, charged with the weight of what you were about to do, and asked:
"Are you 100% sure about this?" His voice was low, his fingers stroking your hair. You stayed silent for a moment, and those few seconds of hesitation felt like an eternity to Niki. But then you found the words, and he relaxed.
"Right now, there are no red lights, Niki. No orange warnings either," you whispered, echoing what he had taught you the first time he’d seen you naked and touched you.
"For me, everything is completely green right now… I… I want… I want to be yours." Your voice trembled, tears pricking at your eyes. Niki reached out, caressing your cheek with his thumb. His eyes were glistening too, and a crooked, moved smile lit up his face.
"I want to be yours too, Wren. Today, tomorrow, for the weeks to come, for the next months… and who knows how much longer."
With fingers still slightly trembling, you brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "Niki… are you, by any chance, declaring yourself?"
He huffed with a half-embarrassed smile that tinted his cheeks a soft pink. "Fuck, you… you’ve made me soft too many times these past weeks, especially right now," he admitted, shaking his head, almost incredulous at the power you had over him.
"So… is it green for you too?" you asked, watching him closely. Niki’s eyes widened, he hadn’t expected you to ask for his confirmation too, but it was a mutual respect you’d found in each other. Then he smiled softly.
"Lime green, Tiffany green… I don’t even remember how many other kinds of green there are… but yes, it’s super green right now."
Your hands slid downward, meeting the buckle of his belt. With a determined but clumsy motion, you unclasped it, letting it fall somewhere on the floor. Niki didn’t waste time, he shimmied out of his jeans in quick movements, tossing them aside. When he leaned over you again, the contact between his erection, still covered by the thin fabric of his boxers, and your already sensitive, pulsing intimacy wrung a muffled moan from both of you.
"Take them off yourself, Y/N," he murmured. With fingers that refused to stay still, you played with the waistband of his boxers, sliding your hands up his hips before pulling them down. And when your eyes finally met his full nudity, his rosy, tense shaft already glistening with pre-cum, your pupils dilated with a mix of shock and desire at how big and thick he was. Niki closed his eyes, groaning.
"This… well, this is what you do to me, Y/N."
"Is that… a good thing?" you asked in a whisper, almost seeking confirmation of the power you felt over him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, chuckling softly.
"Yeah, it’s a great thing, Wren. Except when we’re in public and I can’t do anything about it."
Without asking for permission, you reached out and touched him, wrapping your hand around his hot, taut skin. You felt his breath catch instantly.
"I… there’ll be other opportunities where you can tease me like this… or where you can be on top of me," he stammered, trying to keep control as his muscles tensed under your touch. "But fuck, Y/N, if I’m not inside you in the next few minutes, I’m gonna come like some inexperienced kid. And I want your first time to be perfect." He almost laughed, and you nodded.
You watched as he reached toward the nightstand and grabbed a silver square a condom. "Don’t think the worst, it’s not mine," he said immediately, as if he needed to justify himself to avoid seeming presumptuous. "I asked someone I trust for it earlier and don’t think I planned this, or that I took you for granted...."
But you gently placed a hand over his lips, silencing him. You wanted him to know that his thoughtfulness meant more than he realized.
"Shut up, Niki. You’ve never pressured me into anything. In fact, I appreciate that you thought about protection. I’m not on the pill, and I want to do this safely."
He nodded, visibly relieved, and with expert but quick fingers, he tore open the condom. You, driven by curiosity, tried to help, but he gently shook his head, stopping your hands.
"Next time, I’ll teach you how, I promise… but we only have one, and I need to feel you as mine so badly that I can’t risk messing this up." His voice was urgent as he positioned himself above you.
Niki positioned himself with painstaking slowness between your legs, lifting your hips slightly with a pillow to ease the union. His eyes never left yours, searching for that final silent "yes." When you nodded, he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep kiss as his hips pushed gently against your entrance.
Feeling the tip of his cock tease your sensitivity wrung a moan of pure desire from you.
"I’ll stop immediately if it hurts, Y/N. Don’t be afraid or embarrassed to tell me, okay?" he whispered, his concern melting your heart, you’d never have imagined the guy you met over three months ago could be this tender with you.
"Please… I want to be yours," you breathed, your voice ragged. Niki didn’t need to be told twice. With a slow, controlled thrust, he slid inside you, and you both moaned in unison him from the heat enveloping him, you from the unfamiliar fullness you’d never felt before.
"Fuck… you’re so tight, it’s driving me crazy," he groaned through clenched teeth, feeling how snugly you clenched around him.
"It’s… it’s so big, Niki," you whispered, eyes wide. He looked at you with a mix of pride and worry, kissing the tip of your nose.
"I’m sorry, baby… I’ll try to be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re gripping me so tight it’s hard to stay still."
He paused for a few moments inside you, letting your body adjust to his size. You could feel every millimeter of him, and soon, driven by an irresistible instinct, you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer. Niki cursed again:
"God, Y/N… you’re making it impossible to keep any self-control." He tried not to hurt you, but you begged:
"You can move… please, move."
Niki pulled back slightly, then, without warning, pushed in almost fully, and you clung to his shoulder as you felt the walls of your vagina stretch to accommodate him completely. It burned—it was an intense stretch but the sensation of finally being "filled" by him overpowered any pain your body had ever felt.
When he felt you slowly relax, he began to move, first with caution, then with growing fervor. His shaft slid perfectly inside you, lubricated by your own desire, and with every deep thrust, the sound of your bodies colliding and your moans filled the room.
Your hands sought his hair, pulling him closer as your nails left red marks on his bare back every time he took you harder. Niki nipped at your neck a possessive gesture that made you lose your mind.
"Please, Niki! Don’t… don’t stop," you pleaded, now lost in pleasure, feeling how warmly you welcomed him, how your legs clenched around him. Niki decided to change the angle and shifted slightly on the bed, rolling you onto your side.
"Niki, where are you going? What are you doing?" you stammered, eyes glazed, your breath ragged with a mix of lust and panic.
"Trust me, Wren… I’ll make you feel good," he replied with a knowing smile. Niki slid one arm under your back, pulling you even closer, while his other hand grabbed your thigh, lifting it decisively over his hip. In that position, the angle changed drastically, his cock slid even deeper, reaching spots you didn’t even know were so sensitive. You felt his shaft press with surgical precision against your G-spot, and the pleasure was so sharp that you buried your face against his neck, biting his hot skin to keep from screaming too loudly—afraid someone might hear.
"More, Niki… more, please!" you begged between moans, your nails digging into his shoulders. He didn’t need to be asked twice. Feeling how completely at his mercy you were, he intensified his thrusts: he began alternating short strokes, making you feel only the tip entering and exiting, tormenting your pussy, before plunging deep and powerful, stealing your breath. He felt like he was in heaven as your vagina clenched around him divinely, as if it had been made just for him. But it wasn’t enough, while he continued to claim you, he slid his free hand between your bodies and began stimulating your clit with his thumb.
"Niki… fuck, it’s too much! I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come!" you cried, arching your back as the pleasure became almost unbearable from how divinely his cock slid inside you. He began whispering dirty, sweet words to make you lose all control.
"It’s not too much, Wren. It’s exactly what you deserve. Look at me while you come for me… look how beautiful you are while I take you like this." He lifted your chin, and you wrapped your other leg around his hip, erasing every millimeter of space between you.
"You’re so good, my little Wren… look how well you take all of me, look how you tremble for me."
You nodded, completely overwhelmed, until a second violent orgasm swept over you for the second time that night. The muscles of your vagina contracted rhythmically around him, milking him, and Niki groaned loudly, thrusting even deeper.
"That’s my good girl," he whispered, kissing you fiercely. You thought he was done, that your climax marked the end, but Niki hadn’t released his tension yet. With renewed fervor, he began fucking you again in that position, and the sound of his cock slamming into your pussy was the only thing filling the room, along with your breaths and moans. Then, suddenly, Niki’s muscles tensed he was coming too.
"Fuck, Y/N… I’m about to… I’m coming too," he stammered, eyes wide. You burst into tears at how stimulating it was to see him come, and as you felt Niki unload all his cum in hot spurts inside the condom, he stayed inside you for minutes, still, his chest rising and falling frantically. It was beautiful to still feel him inside, to feel his heat slowly calming, and he began stroking your entire body with infinite tenderness as you snuggled against his chest as if it were your only refuge.
"It was… it was beautiful," you whispered softly. Niki lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on your sweat-dampened forehead. "Was it too much? Did I hurt you?" he asked, a hint of concern in his eyes. But you shook your head.
"It was unreal," you replied, making him smile in relief.
"I’m glad your first time was with me, Wren. And that you trusted me… even though I know I don’t exactly have a spotless reputation," he admitted, with a touch of melancholy that vanished as soon as you pulled him into a tighter embrace. With extreme slowness, he pulled out of you with a sigh, and you watched as he got up gracefully, removing the condom and tossing it in the trash before lying back down beside you, pulling you back into his arms.
The only sounds in the room were the rhythm of your breaths slowly returning to normal and, in the background, the muffled beat of the music still playing outside the summer camp. Niki lay beside you, his arm pressed against yours, and you could feel the cold metal of his rings absentmindedly playing with your fingers a nervous gesture that betrayed how shaken he still was.
When you lifted your gaze, you realized he hadn’t stopped staring at you, his expression unreadable. Curious as you were, you wanted to know what was going through his mind.
"Do… do I have something on my face?" you asked softly, suddenly feeling naked under his intense gaze. Niki shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.
"What’s on your mind?" you asked, stroking his cheek with your thumb. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the touch he loved so much, and said:
"I have so many things running through my head right now that I don’t even know how to act with you in this moment… I feel… strange, but in a good way."
You nodded and whispered, trying to reassure him: "You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, Niki."
"What we just did was beautiful… I hope you know how much I trust you… and I hope that, despite my lack of experience, it was special for you too." You said it, fearing for a second that you might have been "not enough" for him because you knew he’d had more experience. At those words, Niki seemed to snap out of it and turned fully toward you, hovering over your body without crushing you, and wrapped you in a protective embrace, burying his face against your neck as if afraid of being discovered or maybe just afraid of the new reality you both found yourselves in for the first time.
"Don’t joke around, fuck… it was amazing from start to finish. I’d do it with you forever… don’t think or compare yourself to anyone else," he murmured, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin.
"Wren, I can’t keep pretending to be detached anymore… I… I… I like you so damn much." He said it against your neck, but he was seriously afraid of sounding like a fool in that moment. You chuckled softly, stroking his sweaty hair.
"I like you too, Niki. I think even the walls of this bungalow have figured it out by now." You said, and he lifted himself onto his arms, looking at you with almost frustration.
"No, fuck, that’s not what I wanted to say! It’s not just 'I like you.' It’s just that I… I…"
Seeing his struggle, you gently placed a hand over his lips, stopping the internal conflict you could read on his face, and said naturally: "I love you, Niki."
Niki’s eyes widened, and he froze, as if you’d just thrown down a challenge with those words. The silence lasted a second too long, and you seriously feared he wouldn’t say it back or would pull away from you. But then he scoffed loudly, letting his head fall back.
"Damn it! I was supposed to say it first, Y/N! You beat me to it!" he exclaimed, visibly annoyed with himself. You shrugged with a sly little smile.
"Well, you could’ve been faster." You teased, laughing, and he replied:
"I love you too, Wren. In case it wasn’t obvious from the way I look at you or from how I’m currently trying not to look like an idiot." He said it as he couldn’t stop touching you, a new light shining in his eyes. You pulled him back to you, enjoying the warmth of his chest against yours.
"I’m happy to hear you say it. It was a little embarrassing watching you suffer so much trying to spit out those two words!"
He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop smiling. "Oh yeah, very funny. I’ll get my revenge, just you wait."
And he started kissing you everywhere—your chin, your cheeks, the tip of your nose—whispering "I love you" every time his lips touched your skin, as if it were now easier to say it spontaneously.
"I’m really glad they put us in the same room together," he finally said, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling you in for a serious kiss. "It was the best thing that could’ve happened to us."
"Definitely," you replied, laughing in his arms, finally feeling completely at home.
*synopsis: Montana is the state where the most beautiful summer camps of all are held, every year hundreds of children couldn't wait to spend three months away from their families to stay at a summer camp cooking marshmallows, hiking the various nature trails, and swimming in the campus's natural pools. You too had been through all these experiences from your 10s until you were 15 and now that you were of age you would have become an entertainer but you hadn't counted on something that would be on summer campus too Niki, Niki was the classic “bad boy” of the town with all the girls at his feet and with petty crimes caused as a ‘joke’. But what if Niki had to be sent to work as an entertainer on summer campus for “punishment” and you, the classic good girl with zero experience in boys, had to share a room with him? A disaster from day one you can't get along with him but between bonfires with marshmallows, dives in ice water and confessions under the stars maybe the idea of spending 3 months on summer campus with Niki wasn't so bad
*word count: 34k
*tags: At first Y/n and Niki can't stand each other, they love teasing each other, first kiss (many kisses) fluffy, Niki may seem a little bit of an asshole but then becomes obsessed but in a good way with Y/n, masturbation, discovery of spicy books, loss of virginity (protected sex) there will be misunderstandings, jealousy, +18, tattoo kisses, love statement, pet names (good girl, wren)
The sky above Camp Montana was a blue so deep it almost looked unreal, the mountains in the distance veiled by a soft haze. The chirping of birds lulled you into relaxation, while the gentle lapping of waves against the shore in front of the common room’s porch gave the place an air of tranquility, though in just a few hours, it would transform into a bustling summer camp, teeming with kids eager to find their cabins and meet the friends who would share the secrets of a summer unlike any other.
Camp Montana was one of the most famous summer camps in the stat and beyond with hundreds of kids signing up months in advance for an unforgettable experience. As a child, you were one of them: not just another little girl with dirt-streaked braids and scraped knees, but now, an animator. You wore the iconic red Camp Montana hoodie, the eagle emblem emblazoned on the chest, your name stitched beside it. Your jeans bore the camp’s logo, and you carried all the gear and perks that came with the role, everything you’d dreamed of as a kid.
Back then, this place was pure magic. You’d spend nights by the campfire under a sky full of stars, sticky fingers wrapped around half-burnt marshmallows. You’d race through the woods with your friends, laughter echoing across the lake as you leaped from inflatables into the water. It was the place where you dreamed of growing up, of wearing that hoodie, of being loved by the kids just like your favorite animators—women you still remembered fondly.
But now? Now, Camp Montana was different. Now, there were responsibilities of every kind: comforting homesick children, reassuring worried parents over the phone, pulling night shifts to make sure no one snuck out of the cabins. There were judgmental glances from the other animators, whispers, and gossip slithering between the bungalows. You’d expected a peaceful summer, but life had other plans. Maybe fate was playing a cruel trick on you—or perhaps, the most beautiful one of your life.
The common room at Camp Montana was a massive wooden space, its walls covered in faded photos of summers past, some of them featuring you, with your childhood braids and braces. Colorful flags hung from the ceiling, each one signed with the names of past animators. The air was thick with the scent of coffee, freshly baked butter cookies, and burning wood. On one side, there were industrial kitchens and long tables where chaotic, noisy meals were served every day. On the other hand, a small loft where the camp president—a man in his sixties with a stern, gray-bearded face—was outlining the rules on a flip chart, rules that would govern the next three months, especially the ones animators were forbidden to break.
Lia, one of your closest friends: someone you’d spent countless summers with at camp, sat beside you, legs crossed, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she read aloud the "Forbidden Things for Camp Animators" written in bold red on the board:
FORBIDDEN THINGS FOR CAMP ANIMATORS:
Swimming in the lake after 10:00 PM (seriously dangerous without a lifeguard on duty).
Alcohol or drugs (zero tolerance anyone caught using drugs will be expelled immediately).
Outside guests (no bringing in boyfriends/girlfriends).
Smoking in common areas (there are two designated smoking zones—check the camp maps).
Public arguments (keep your drama private, not in front of the kids).
Abandoning your shift (if you’re on duty, you stay on duty until your shift ends).
Bringing weapons (this is a summer camp—parents expect their kids to be safe).
Damaging nature (we’re here to teach kids to respect the environment—no cutting trees, littering, etc.).
You studied the rules carefully. Most of them were reasonable, but Lia didn’t seem to agree.
"Listen to this, Y/n," she whispered, pointing at the first rule. "‘No swimming in the lake after 10:00 PM.’ Pfft! We all did it! Remember when we used to sneak out at night and dive in, then run back screaming like maniacs?" She giggled, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing. Yes, even though you’d always been seen as the "good girl," the studious one, you’d had your share of rebellious moments at 16 or 17—moments you now carried in your heart.
"Yeah, but we’re animators now, Lia," you reminded her, nudging her gently. "We’re here to work, have fun, and most importantly set a good example for the kids."
Lia rolled her eyes. "Oh, please! Give it a week, and 99% of us will have broken every single rule. Look around—half these people are just here to escape their parents, hook up in the bungalows, and have a summer they’ll tell their future kids about in a few years."
Before you could respond, the door to the common room swung open. It couldn’t be the kids, they weren’t arriving yet. Instead, what you saw—what everyone saw—was a head of bleached-blond hair with dark roots, broad shoulders, and a towering height of at least 1.95 meters. His expressive eyes and lips were the kind every girl in the room would dream of kissing. Niki—because that’s who it was—ducked slightly to fit through the doorway, as if even the entrance had to adjust for him. He walked toward the group of animators with an arrogant confidence that sent shivers down spines, and every girl in the room gasped:
"Oh my God..."
"Is that....?"
"It can’t be him."
You turned away sharply, trying not to look, but Lia’s eyes widened, and she elbowed you. "What the hell is Niki doing here?!" she hissed, her voice a mix of shock and excitement. "Wasn’t he supposed to be doing community service for that mess with the stolen cars? Everyone knows he organized those illegal races during the Cowboy Festival!"
You shrugged, feigning indifference, even though your heart was pounding. Unfortunately, you knew Niki. You’d grown up in the same small town, gone to the same university, you studied child psychology while he leaned into the arts, photography, and drawing.
I have no idea," you muttered, biting your nail. "But one thing’s for sure: that guy is a walking disaster. He can’t be an animator here with all these kid —he’s a ticking time bomb."
Niki sat down two rows ahead of you, crossing his long legs with effortless nonchalance. You clenched your fists as he tilted his head slightly, his signature cowboy hat—now in a "baggy style"—shadowing his face. The president glared at him with open disdain, clearly afraid Niki would bring trouble to this little slice of paradise.
The president clapped his hands loudly and cleared his throat into the microphone. "Alright, now that all our camp animators have graced us with their presence, we can begin!" His voice was sharp, dripping with sarcasm. "As you know, every year, we pair you up for teams and bungalows. Each bungalow has two single beds, a small reading area, a mini kitchen, a bathroom, and a porch with a hammock. Some overlook the lake, others the mountains, and some are near the kids’ cabins. The pairs are mixed—it’s been a tradition for years, and we’ve never had issues with boys and girls sharing. You’re all adults and responsible, so I trust you’ll have a great time with your new roommate. Now, let’s announce the pairs!"
You glanced at Lia, who rested her head on your shoulder and smirked. "I’d bet anything we’re rooming together, but we both know that’s not happening." You nodded, already resigned. A murmur spread through the room.
"I’d pay gold to be paired with Niki!" a red-haired girl shrieked. "I want Keeho!" another yelled, eyeing the guy sitting next to Niki. "Joshua’s mine!" another chimed in, her English flawless.
You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever chaos was about to unfold.
The camp president scrolled through countless slides on the interactive whiteboard, and with each new slide, your stomach twisted tighter. For what felt like an eternity, your name and photo refused to appear. As anxiety clawed at you—like it always did—you started gnawing at the nail of your index finger, eyes locked on the screen. It was as if the blank slide delighted in torturing you, flashing one animator pairing after another, but never yours.
Then, your name blared through the speakers, just a little too loud.
"Y/n will be paired with Niki for the next three months in Bungalow 20," the president announced, his gaze almost pitying as it landed on you.
You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. There, on the screen, was your photo—smiling, the picture of the "girl next door"—paired with Niki’s. If you’d had a permanent marker, you would’ve drawn giant horns on his head and a ridiculous mustache over that smirking mouth of his. It was a low blow, no, a cruel joke from fate. The president must’ve had a twisted sense of humor, or maybe he was just a sadist, delighted at the thought of turning your summer into the worst one of your life.
Lia, your so-called best friend 'the traitor' started patting your head sympathetically, but it didn’t take long for her to dissolve into giggles.
"Well, look on the bright side," she whispered, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "If you survive three months living with him, your psychology thesis will write itself. Either that, or you’ll end up in the news as an accomplice in some illegal drift racing scandal. Either way, Y/n, you’ll be legendary."
You shot her a glare and buried your face in your hands, feeling your ears burn. "I hate you," you mumbled. "This is a nightmare. He’s literally the one person in all of Montana I wouldn’t even want to share an elevator with, let alone a bungalow for three months."
With that, you bolted up, grabbed your things, and stormed out, avoiding everyone’s eyes—especially his. You could feelNiki two rows ahead, smirking, that infuriating grin plastered on his face. You lugged your bags with a strength you didn’t know you had, marching toward the upper part of the camp until you reached Bungalow 19… and then, Bungalow 20.
And Bungalow 20 was objectively perfect.
If it weren’t for your soon-to-be roommate, you might’ve cried with joy. The bungalow sat on a small hill, its wooden porch complete with a hammock big enough for more than two people. The view of the lake was straight out of a National Geographic postcard, and the mountain ridges stretched across the horizon. You pouted at how beautiful Montana could be, then dragged your suitcase—heavy as if you’d packed a corpse inside up the steps and threw open the door to your new home.
The interior was cozy, with a scent of vanilla. On the table, two shiny new badges gleamed in the afternoon light, beside a basket of warm butter-vanilla cookies a welcome gift from the camp kitchen. Next to it, a letter with the camp’s official stamp and the president’s signature. You skimmed it:
The animator pairs hadn’t been chosen at random. No, the president had studied each of you carefully, spending days crafting the "perfect" pairings. You were cautious, level-headed, someone who hated lying and taking risks. Niki, on the other hand, was cunning, self-serving, and always looking for a challenge. "You’re the sun, and he’s the storm," the letter read. "You’ll balance each other out."
You couldn’t believe what you’d just read. You wanted to crumple the paper into a ball and hurl it into the lake, but you knew Niki would have to read it too. So, like the good girl you were, you slapped it back onto the table and shoved a cookie into your mouth, chewing angrily as you stormed into the bedroom.
The beds were too close: both queen-sized, separated only by a flimsy nightstand. You claimed the one by the window, thinking that if either of you stretched out an arm in the night, you’d probably touch. You shook your head, muttering to yourself as you unzipped your suitcase and started unpacking. For twenty minutes, the world almost felt normal. You could hear the distant sounds of other animators unpacking, laughter echoing from nearby bungalows, the gentle lapping of waves against the lake’s rocky shore, and the chirping of birds. Normally, these sounds would’ve soothed you.
But peace wasn’t going to last.
The bungalow door creaked open, and the thud of Niki’s leather duffel bag hitting the floor told you one thing: your peace was officially over. The longest three months of your life were about to begin.
He strode toward Bungalow 20, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes in that defiant, street-meets-prairie style of his. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how his life had turned into some cheesy teen movie. He and his friends had planned to leave Montana for a couple of months a road trip through California, Oregon, all the way up to Canada. But then, surprise, he’d been caught behind the wheel of a stolen, tricked-out car, drifting like an idiot after watching one of his best friends win the world rodeo championship. It had been a stupid move, and his parents had bailed him out—literally—paying his bond for the joyride with stolen cars. He’d expected to end up picking up trash on the side of the road or serving meals at a soup kitchen. Instead, fate had other plans.
And now here he was, strolling through a summer camp, sentenced to three months of untouched nature, suffocating rules, and an endless horde of screaming kids as a counselor. When the town—and his parents—had first suggested it, he’d laughed in their faces. Him, babysitting a bunch of rule-breaking brats (just like he’d been)? No thanks. But here he was, and the cherry on top of this absurd sundae? You.
You were the classic good girl of the town: mayor’s daughter, straight-A student, the kind of girl every mom dreamed of for their wayward sons. The thought of spending three goddamn months with you made him want to punch something. But at the same time, it intrigued him. Because even good girls had secrets, and he was dying to uncover yours.
When he pushed open the bungalow door, the contrast hit him like a slap. The air smelled of vanilla, butter, and cherry—sickeningly sweet, almost too clean, the exact opposite of his own scent of mint and spice, the kind that lingered even from a mile away. He dropped his duffel with a heavy thud onto the wooden floor. His eyes landed on the vanilla-butter cookies left by the kitchen staff, the note reading, "Made with all the love for our favorite new counselors." He rolled his eyes, then spotted the president’s letter. As he read it aloud, his expression shifted from shock to amusement. The letter praised you like some saint, while it described him as if he were a seven-headed monster. He shook his head, laughing at how surreal this whole situation was.
With half a cookie still in his mouth, he walked into the bedroom. You were bent over, meticulously arranging your tank tops with a precision that both irritated and fascinated him. He watched your wispy braids sway with every movement, and admitting it only to himself your body wasn’t half bad for someone who spent their life buried in books. The way your jeans hugged your hips, the way your tank top accentuated your chest—damn. He cleared his throat, unable to resist.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, his smirk promising nothing but trouble. "If it isn’t Miss Braids herself...my roommate for the next three months."
You whipped around, glaring at him with a look that could’ve incinerated anyone else on the spot.
"Oh, joy," you snapped, your voice sharp as a blade. "I’m thrilled to share a room with a two-bit delinquent."
Niki chuckled, reaching out to brush his fingers over the cover of one of your classic novels—Wuthering Heights, some psychological thriller he’d never even heard of. "Looks like even the library mouse knows all about my life."
You crossed your arms, lifting your chin in defiance. "I couldn’t care less about your life. In fact, the less I hear about it, the better. But we do live in a small town where gossip spreads, and unfortunately, my dad’s the mayor, so I’ve had to listen to more about your stupid antics than I’d like."
You took him in, your lips curling into a slight pout. Niki had an undeniable aura intimidating, yet magnetic. He was the kind of guy you didn’t forget easily, and that annoyed you even more.
Niki sighed, ignoring your jab, and flopped onto his bed. The wooden frame groaned under his weight—all 6’5” of muscle and arrogance seemed almost too much for the half-queen mattress. He stretched lazily, the movement hitching his oversized hoodie up just enough to reveal a sliver of golden skin and the waistband of his Playboy boxers peeking out from his low-slung jeans. You knew Niki had his own style, and you couldn’t deny even to yourself—that it wasn’t entirely unappealing. Your eyes flickered there for just a millisecond, and he caught it. A victorious smirk spread across his lips.
"Your parents are gonna lose it when they find out their sweet little angel has to share a room with a ‘criminal’ for three months," he mused, touching his lips thoughtfully, shattering the brief peace.
You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. "They trust me and I won’t do anything reckless...or wrong in your presence."
You crossed your arms tighter beneath your chest, a defensive gesture that only drew Niki’s attention. In two quick strides, he closed the distance between you, towering over you with his imposing frame. The scent of spiced mint filled the air, thick and intoxicating.
"Mmm, we’ll see," he murmured, lowering his head near your ear. "If I were a parent, I wouldn’t be too comfortable knowing my daughter had to spend countless nights in my company, wren."
Your face flushed with anger and something else, something forbidden. You slapped his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric. "You’re just a lost cause, Niki and stop calling me wren!"
He let out a low, rough laugh as he headed toward the bathroom to unpack. "Never. We both know you’ll never outgrow me."
And there you stood, frozen in the middle of the room as the bathroom door clicked shut, your heart pounding, anger battling with an annoying, unwelcome rush of adrenaline.
A week had passed since the summer camp started, and if there were an award for patience, they should name a town square after you or better yet, erect an entire statue in your honor right in front of your hometown’s city hall. Sharing Bungalow 20 with Niki wasn’t just a challenge, it was a refined form of psychological torture. And for someone as naturally calm and patient as you, he made every day harder than the last.
Problem number one? Sleep. You loved slipping between the sheets at a decent hour—okay, maybe you were a little too fond of going to bed early. By 9 PM, you could already be drifting off to sleep, lulled by the sound of the stream outside. But Niki had other plans. Let’s just say he forgot to mention one tiny detail: he suffered from insomnia. Watching you fall asleep in five minutes flat had thrown him off because he was a night owl. He’d stay awake until 2 AM, whistling, spinning his phone between his fingers, or sketching with the music blasting. You’d politely suggested he could stay outside there were comfy puff chairs or even a hammock but he’d just smirked and said, "No thanks, I’d rather not get eaten by a bear."
And then there was the issue of tidiness. The word "order" didn’t exist in Niki’s vocabulary or maybe it did, but he took great pleasure in driving you insane. You weren’t a neat freak, but you at least tried not to turn the room into a refugee camp. The bungalow wasn’t huge just a wooden entrance table, a cushioned bench with big windows overlooking the clearing, a tiny sitting area, and an open space with your two beds and a bathroom (which, admittedly, was bigger than necessary, and you weren’t complaining about that).
Niki, on the other hand, scattered his oversized hoodies everywhere like he was marking his territory. And don’t even get started on his razors left on the sink. "For the two stray hairs on your face, you could at least put them away!" you’d yelled one morning, but he’d just flashed that infuriating smirk while shaving his cheek.
But the final straw was the ID card prank. Every counselor had to carry theirs to access camp areas, and one morning, yours had vanished—poof, like magic. You were in full-blown panic, tearing the place apart: under the bed, between books, in the bathroom, under the bench. Then Niki leaned against the doorframe, watching you huff and mutter, that annoying smile playing on his lips.
"Looking for this, Princess?" he asked, dangling the ID card from his index finger.
You lunged to grab it, but he lifted his arm, using all of his 195 centimeters to keep it out of reach. You glared as you hopped uselessly, trying to snatch it.
"You know," he murmured, letting you nearly collide with his chest as you jumped, "you should keep it somewhere safer… maybe pinned right here…" He tapped the neckline of your tank top with the edge of the card, watching your cheeks flush pink. He’d discovered he loved seeing your round cheeks turn every shade of red, and without another word, he draped it around your neck, letting it fall against your chest. Then he winked and disappeared into the kitchen.
But the incident that truly made you snap happened one late afternoon. You’d just returned to the bungalow after an exhausting day of supervising dozens of kids screaming on the lake’s inflatables, your hair a disaster and your legs shaking with fatigue. Without a care in the world, you flung the door open, only to freeze.
Sitting on Niki’s bed was a girl, one of the sports group counselors, laughing hysterically at something he’d said. She was practically straddling him. You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly popped out, your face turning as red as a bell pepper—not from embarrassment, but from pure, unadulterated rage. You shot the girl a look that could’ve killed a grizzly bear.
When Niki gestured for her to leave like she’d never been there, you pointed a finger at him and snapped:
"It’s incredibly disrespectful to bring random people into our bungalow, especially at this hour when you know I come back exhausted! I’m seriously tired, I just want to shower and sleep, and instead, I walk in to find you doing… who knows what with that girl!" You crossed your arms, glaring, and Niki pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at how furious you were. He sat up, running a hand through his blond hair, and looked at you with an amused grin.
"What’s wrong, Shorty? You’re not… jealous, are you? I didn’t know the mayor’s daughter cared so much about my free time."
You shot him your worst glare. "Jealous? Of you?!" you scoffed, pointing at him. "Right now, I’m furious, not jealous! If you’re going to bring girls in here whenever you feel like it, then starting tomorrow, I’ll bring a guy in too, no, I’ll bring a different one every night!" You gestured to the bungalow, and Niki stiffened instantly. His jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscles in his neck tighten, and his gaze darkened, almost dangerous but only for a second. The next moment, he burst into laughter, flopping backward onto the bed.
"Why the hell are you laughing?!" you demanded, even angrier, but he just stretched out, taking up the entire bed with his endless legs, and looked at you with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.
"Oh, this is rich! The girl with the braids—who I’m pretty sure has never been kissed in her life—wants to bring some random guy into our room! Go ahead, Y/n, you wouldn’t even know where to start."
Your cheeks burned a shade of red you’d never experienced before. Jabbing a finger at him, you hissed, "You don’t know the first thing about me, Niki!" Your voice trembled with indignation. You grabbed your robe and toiletries and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard the wooden walls of the bungalow shook.
Under the shower’s spray, you cursed him in every language you knew. But deep in your chest, your heart refused to calm down and you weren’t sure if it was from the insult or the way he’d looked at you when you’d mentioned bringing another guy in.
That morning, the soft Montana dawn light filtered through the curtains, bringing with it the usual chorus of birds and the steady murmur of the stream just a few meters from your bungalow. You would have given half your counselor’s salary to stay under the blankets for another ten minutes or maybe the whole morning because as a kid, you never truly realized how much work animators had behind the scenes. But duty called, and that week, you’d been assigned to fabric painting at 9:15 AM. So, with a lazy groan, you sat up, and just like every single morning since this nightmare began the first thing your eyes focused on was the occupant of the bed beside you.
Your gaze landed on Niki, a tangle of icy blond hair and heavy sighs. You noticed how his hair was slowly growing out, the dark roots of his natural color peeking through. His lips were slightly pouty in sleep, and he clutched the pillow beneath him like he was afraid someone might steal it. His thick eyebrows, usually furrowed in annoyance, were finally relaxed, making him look almost… innocent. Just a boy too big for a bed too small.
You knew he also had fishing duty at 9:15 AM, but after a week of stolen ID cards and jokes about how you embodied the "good girl" ideal, you decided your "act of kindness" would be letting him sleep. A wicked little smirk tugged at your lips as you thought, I could let him sleep… so he doesn’t wake up in time for the start of activities. You reached out to shake his shoulder but then stopped yourself. With a quiet chuckle, you muttered under your breath as you closed yourself in the bathroom, "Let him be late."
And so, you began your skincare ritual: slathering on pounds of sunscreen (because your skin had to stay flawless, even if you were going to sweat or get thrown into the water), adding a touch of self-tanner (since you still hadn’t achieved the exact shade of tan you wanted), and then pulling on your swimsuit, a T-shirt, athletic shorts, and braiding your hair as you finished, you noticed a stack of Post-its leaning against the mirror. You grabbed the pad and started decorating the bathroom mirror like it was a Christmas tree of warnings.
Green Post-it: I DON’T KNOW WHAT WORLD YOU LIVE IN, NIKI, BUT THERE’S SOMETHING CALLED A CLOSET FOR A REASON -> PUT YOUR HOODES IN THERE (Otherwise, the one on my chair is about to become a mop for the floor, and I don’t think you’d like that—especially since I know some of your hoodies cost as much as two months of our salary).
Blue Post-it: STOP PLAYING THOSE WAR GAMES AT 2 AM. Some people need to dream about things other than explosions and actually sleep peacefully. Try unplugging from those electronic gadgets and falling asleep to the sound of the stream and night crickets.
Yellow Post-it: TRY NOT TO USE MY SAKURA BODY WASH! I don’t think the scent of cherry blossoms helps your bad-boy reputation. What will the other girls think when they smell you reeking of girliness? They’ll just get even more jealous of me…
Orange Post-it: RAZORS HAVE A HOME. IT’S CALLED A ‘PERSONAL CABINET,’ NOT A ‘BATHROOM SINK DECORATION. Also, you’ve got, like, two stray hairs max, stop acting like you’re grooming a lion’s mane."
Pink Post-it: If you feel like breaking the next girl’s heart, don’t bring her into our room. I’d rather not see another girl leaving in tears because of you!
You checked the time: 8:15 AM. Niki hadn’t moved a millimeter, lost in a deep sleep that made him look almost… innocent. Almost, obviously. You grabbed the last Post-it before heading to breakfast and stuck it on the exit door. In your neat but determined handwriting, you wrote:
Oops, looks like your human alarm clock had a technical malfunction this morning or maybe just ‘forgot’ to share her air with you. Hope those five hours of sleep (well, six now) were enough, since you spend your nights doing everything but sleeping. I let you sleep, obviously, because I care’ and not at all because I wanted you to be late… (nope, not at all). Consider this my ‘welcome gift’… or maybe just proof that I can play dirty too, Niki. See you at the lake—if you can keep your eyes open and make it to roll call on time:)
Your favorite roommate:)
Niki was about to explode. He’d grown up with two other girls his age, and sure, there had been disagreements and fights, but you? You outdid them both. When his eyes finally opened and focused on the clock, his first thought wasn’t panic over being late it was a name spat like a curse between his teeth: "Y/n."
When he turned to see if you were still there, he found your bed perfectly made and rolled his eyes. He dragged himself out of bed, cursing you in every language he knew, because you two had an agreement or rather, you had established the rules, and he had grunted in assent, that you’d wake each other up but no, today you’d had the brilliant idea of leaving without calling him. And now, with twenty minutes until activities started, he was still in his boxers, his hair a wild mess.
He stumbled into the bathroom, tripping over one of his own hoodies left on the floor, only to find himself facing an explosion of colorful Post-its on the mirror. He grumbled under his breath as he splashed water on his face.
"She seriously took the time to write out all these stupid rules instead of waking me up?" he muttered through a mouthful of toothpaste foam, glaring at the green Post-it.
"Put away your hoodies… use my body wash… but look at this one..." he said, mimicking your voice and grabbing a cookie from the table while frantically searching for his ID card. The taste of chocolate clashed violently with the minty toothpaste, creating a disgusting mix, and he wondered how Sunoo, one of his best friends could stand that contrast.
Just as he was about to leave, he spotted the last Post-it on the door and read it twice, the cookie still between his teeth: "Because I ‘care’ and not at all because I wanted you to be late… (nope, not at all)."
Niki blinked, then let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a growl and an incredulous laugh.
"‘I care,’ huh?" he muttered to himself, glaring at the yellow paper. "You’re such a little liar, Shorty. You left me to rot in bed so that you could enjoy the show of me running around like an idiot."
He grabbed his ID card, adjusting his cowboy hat with a sharp motion, but his movements were less furious than before. There was a strange electricity humming under his skin. Obviously, that Post-it was a provocation of course it was but it was also glaring proof that the mayor’s daughter, the so-called "untouchable" girl, wasn’t just putting up with his presence. She was studying him. She knew how many hours he slept, that he played video games until 2 AM, and even that he used your body wash. She was paying way too much attention to him.
With a small smirk lighting up his gaze, he tucked the Post-it behind his phone case. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing it, but the idea of carrying a little piece of your neat handwriting with him appealed to him more than he wanted to admit.
And with that, he rushed off to the little ones’ fishing activity, fully intending to drive you just as crazy that day.
The weekend had finally arrived, and the atmosphere at Camp Montana had shifted. While most of the counselors were loading up their cars to escape to the nearest town, searching for parties, cocktails, or luxury hotel retreats to unwind, you had very different plans. The wildlife trail started just a 10-minute walk from the camp’s parking lot, and you were looking forward to two hours of hiking, surrounded by the scent of hay, sun-warmed trees, and the sun beating down on your skin. But what you were really looking forward to was a hearty plate of melted cheese with sausage and mushrooms, topped off with a wild berry panna cotta—the meal you’d been dreaming about for days.
That night, you’d gone to bed more excited than usual, simply because you couldn’t wait to spend a day completely free of Niki. When you woke at dawn, the sky was still painted in soft violet hues, and the first birds were beginning to chirp. You stretched, instinctively turning toward Niki’s bed, expecting to see the usual tangle of blond hair and blankets strewn in every direction. But to your surprise, the bed was empty. Your heart gave a little leap, it was the first time you didn’t have to deal with his impossible schedule. That is, until you heard the water running.
You made a slightly confused face and thought to yourself, It’s seven in the morning, and he’s already up? Where is that guy even going? I hope he’s not up to something stupid.
With those questions swirling in your mind, you headed to the kitchen to make coffee, watching as the first rays of sunlight set the mountain peaks ablaze. A few moments later, Niki emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp and tousled. He was wearing a faded ‘80s band T-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, baggy jeans, and sturdy hiking boots. He pulled his New Yorker cap on backward, and you had to admit, reluctantly that his style was growing on you. Maybe even a little too much. You quickly looked away.
"Where are you going?" you asked, clutching your coffee mug like a shield. Niki reached out, snatching a cookie from the table, and took a bite with casual indifference.
"Hiking with you and your little friends," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. You closed your eyes, certain he was joking. When you opened them again, you nearly spilled your coffee into the sink, coughing in surprise.
"Wait, what? You...you’re coming with us? Into the woods? For hours?" You tried to talk him out of it. "I don’t think that’s your ideal habitat."
Niki shrugged, shooting you an amused glance from under the brim of his cap. "What? Surprised? I can walk like a normal person, Shorty. And I can adapt to any natural habitat..especially when you’re there." He winked at you, and you opened your mouth to retort, but no words came out.
"So… you’re telling me you’re coming with us? You’re actually waiting for me?"
He nodded, picking up the mug you’d only taken a sip from and downing the rest of your coffee. "Yeah, just don’t take an hour to get ready." He stepped outside onto the porch, and the word "ready" made your cheeks burn. You didn’t need to be told twice. You rushed to the bathroom, washing your face at lightning speed and braiding your hair into your usual neat plaits. You threw on a ribbed tank top with faded rainbow stripes that gave you a fresh, lively look, a pair of comfortable jeans that ended just above your knees, your hiking boots, and your New Yorker cap. When you stepped outside, grab your backpack and camera, you found Niki lounging on the porch hammock. The moment you appeared, he lifted his gaze and looked you up and down. For a second, his usual smirk faded, replaced by an unreadable expression. Without meaning to, he inhaled, catching the faint scent of your sakura-scented body wash, your signature fragrance in the bungalow and, apparently, his favorite in just a few weeks. With a fluid motion, he hopped off the hammock, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and gestured toward the trail.
You walked in silence to the meeting point, but it was a different kind of silence. Neither of you teased or provoked the other. For once, there was no war between you...
When Lia saw you both approaching, her eyes widened. Okay, sure, you’d told the whole camp that anyone who wanted to join the hike was welcome, but she hadn’t expected to see you arrive with Niki. She rushed over, linking her arm through yours and pulling you a step forward to whisper in your ear:
"And what is he doing here? He’s complained every day about not being able to sleep, and now that he has two whole days to catch up, he’s coming on a hike?"
"He decided to come hiking with us," you replied with a shrug, trying to sound indifferent while feeling Niki’s gaze burning into the back of your neck.
Lia turned to study him properly. Niki was leaning against a tree with effortless ease, observing the forest as if he’d known it his whole life. She was skeptical, she knew a guy like him wouldn’t choose a flat trail and a refuge lunch unless there was a more... personal reason. She looked at you, then at him, and a small, knowing smile spread across her face. Deep down, she already understood what was brewing between you, though she decided not to say anything, she didn’t want to make your cheeks burn any brighter. She couldn’t wait to see how your days together would unfold.
The crisp Montana air was like a jolt of pure energy, invigorating you with every breath. You took long, deep inhales, savoring the sweet sensation of fresh, clean air filling your lungs. You loved walking along the flat trail, surrounded by greenery, the sound of babbling brooks, and the occasional sight of cows grazing in the distance. Every few minutes, people would wave and wish you a good day, making you feel right at home, because deep down, you’d always loved spending time outdoors, and your years at summer camp had only deepened that love for nature.
You and Lia led the group with confidence, knowing every rock and turn of the path by heart after years of hiking it together. Each time, you’d discover something new, something you’d missed the year before. But every time you raised your camera to capture a snow-capped peak, a wildflower, or one of Lia’s funny faces, the lens somehow ended up framing Niki instead. He walked with an effortless swagger, earbuds in, his gaze shifting between the mountain peaks and your figure just a few meters ahead.
It was odd to wear earbuds when you could hear the birds, the cows, the rushing water but by now, you’d grown used to Niki’s quirks. If it made him comfortable, you weren’t about to say anything.
Niki took in the landscape, and it wasn’t half bad—though he’d never admit it out loud. He was a Chicago guy, used to 2 a.m. outings because he couldn’t sleep, extreme sports, and pure adrenaline. The quiet of nature usually bored him to death, but the thought of staying in the empty bungalow without your indignant glares and quick comebacks had convinced him that maybe a hike wasn’t so terrible. He liked watching you—how you were kind to everyone, sunny, the way people gravitated toward you because you gave off the vibe of someone everyone wanted to be around. But with him, you were the exact opposite, fiery, ready to snap the second he opened his mouth to tease you. That contrast was getting under his skin, and it annoyed him more than he cared to admit. It hadn’t even been a month since you’d started sharing your lives, and yet his eyes sought you out everywhere. He hated the effect you had on him.
At one point, the group stopped because a small stream had flooded the trail, creating a muddy, slippery passage. The guys in the group started playing the chivalrous heroes, helping the others cross. Niki quickened his pace until he was right behind you, his warm breath brushing against your earlobe, carrying the scent of mint and something spicy.
"Wren, let me go first," he murmured in that rough voice that sent a shiver down your spine. "Halfway through, I’ll grab your hand and pull you across." He smirked, and when he saw you startle at his sudden closeness, he chuckled. You whipped around, and your faces were inches apart, your cheeks flaming at the unexpected proximity.
"Thanks, but I can manage on my own," you said, proud. "Do you know how many times I’ve hiked this trail? A little water isn’t going to stop me."
He stepped aside with a dramatic flourish, gesturing for you to go ahead. You tried to proceed with dignity, and for a while, it went fine—until you reached a slippery, unstable rock. Panic set in. You hadn’t brought extra clothes or spare shoes, and the thought of ending up soaked in front of everyone—especially him—was a humiliation you couldn’t afford. You heard the others urging you to hurry, a small crowd forming behind you. You closed your eyes, swallowed your pride, and said:
"Niki… could you come to the middle and then go ahead? That way, you can grab my hand and pull me across?"
His smirk widened, lighting up his blond features—he had bet on you needing his help eventually. "Oh, so now you really get that you need me, wren?"
"Please, spare me the Montana hero speech and move that giant body of yours before I throw a rock at your head!" you snapped, trying to hide your embarrassment. You were stuck in the middle of the stream, and everyone was watching but you only cared about the gaze of one person in particular. He didn’t need to be told twice. With an effortless leap, he landed on the stable rock beside you, gesturing for you to hand over your backpack. Then, with infuriating ease, he launched himself toward the grassy bank, landing perfectly dry.
A moment later, he turned and reached his arm out to you. It was long, solid, veins standing out on the back of his hand, adorned with small silver rings. You wobbled slightly toward the water, and he stepped forward to catch you.
"Jump, Y/N. I’ve got you, you won’t fall," he said, rising onto his toes to get closer. You took a deep breath and leaped without thinking. His large, warm hands instantly closed around your waist, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. For an endless moment, you were pressed against his chest, feeling the heat of his body against yours. His minty, musky scent overwhelmed your senses, making you forget where you were. Without meaning to, you nestled closer to him. After a moment, you looked up and found his face just centimeters from yours, that victorious smirk still playing on his lips as he enjoyed the fact that everyone was staring.
"Thanks," you whispered, your cheeks burning as he set you down with maddening slowness. You tucked some loose strands of hair behind your ears, and Niki saw how utterly flustered you were. He found it ridiculously cute but didn’t say a word. Instead, he watched as you grabbed your backpack and hurried to catch up with Lia, who was barely containing a sarcastic comment about what had just happened. You shot her such a fierce look that she immediately raised her hands in surrender.
"Okay, okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut!" she said, laughing.
The trail leading to the refuge was a relentless uphill climb that seemed to never end, but the view waiting at the top made every drop of sweat worth it. Every time you hiked that path and reached the summit, the scenery was breathtaking. When you finally caught sight of the wooden cabin with its umbrellas and lounge chairs neatly lined up along the meadow, a chorus of relieved sighs rose from the group everyone was utterly exhausted.
You and Lia, without needing to say a word, quickened your pace—though maybe that wasn’t the best idea, since it left the others behind and your legs started aching but the moment you stepped inside the refuge, the smell of freshly cooked food wrapped around you, and your stomachs growled in response.
In front of the entrance, a menu written on a chalkboard made your mouths water: melted cheese with sausage and mushrooms, beef stew with potatoes, hot sausage sandwiches with various sides but it was the dessert list that made you both grin: panna cotta with berries, Sacher cake, strudel. You and Lia exchanged a look of pure complicity—you couldn’t wait to dig into those homemade sweets.
"Oh my God, I’m about to die from happiness," you said at the sight of so many treats, and Lia sighed at the sight of a waitress carrying a perfect slice of Sacher cake, already imagining the first bite of that heavenly dessert.
You dropped your backpacks onto a long wooden table, and while the others settled in, you couldn’t resist unbuttoning the first two buttons of your blouse, you wanted to soak up as much sun as possible and relax. You put on your sunglasses and stretched out on a lounge chair like a cat basking in the sun. Lia did the same, but unlike you, Lia was a first-class chatterbox and didn’t stop talking for a second:
"Damn, Y/n, look at Niki," she said, nodding toward the shade of the refuge. "He seriously hates the sun. How can he just sit there in the shade, sulking with that little notebook of his, drawing or writing who knows what, when he could be out here soaking up some sun and relaxing by the stream like normal people?"
You turned slightly and, sure enough, saw Niki leaning against the refuge wall, legs crossed, notebook on his knees, and a scowl that, for some reason, made a stupid little smile tug at your lips. You quickly shook your head.
Since when did you find him cute? you thought. He was everything you shouldn’t want in your life....especially that annoying pout of his, the way he ignored the world around him.
"Good thing he’s over there by himself instead of coming to ruin my free day too," you replied, trying to sound indifferent. Lia chuckled, noticing how you’d glanced at him.
"You know, it’s weird that, purely by coincidence, he ended up coming on this hike with us too. I think he came because…"
You pushed your sunglasses up and shot her a glare. She immediately clamped her mouth shut and raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, we won’t talk about you and him...well, we won’t talk about him at all, Y/n. Just today. I’ll put my headphones in and listen to a podcast or some music for an hour while we enjoy the fresh air and sunshine."
You nodded, but before sliding your sunglasses back down, you couldn’t resist sneaking another look at Niki. He was completely absorbed in sketching, his pencil moving swiftly across the page, his brow slightly furrowed. As if sensing the weight of your gaze, he looked up, and your eyes met. You immediately lowered your sunglasses and pretended to look around before lying back down on the lounge chair, but you could feel your cheeks burning.
Damn it… He always caught you looking at him. Every single time.
On the other side, Niki lowered his gaze back to his notebook, a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at his lips. For the first time in a long while, there was a real person in his sketches, he’d been drawing the mountains, quick strokes and shading, but there was also the profile of a girl with braids taking photos by a stream and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
Lunch at the refuge had been devoured in the blink of an eye—everyone had grabbed food and shared it among laughter and old mountain stories meant to scare the group. But the peace lasted only until dessert arrived. When the waitress placed that slice of warm strudel in front of you, crispy pastry, vanilla ice cream already melting into a delicious cream, you thought you’d died and gone to heaven. You’d been dreaming of that slice for ages, but you hadn’t accounted for Niki’s presence. Without a word, he stretched his fork toward your dessert and, with zero hesitation, broke off half your slice.
"Hey! That’s my cake!" you exclaimed, eyes wide, as Niki didn’t even bother looking at you. With a little smirk, he broke off another piece, and you, furious, jammed your fork between the tines of his to block him. He finally lifted his gaze, those expressive eyes locking onto yours.
"This is my cake, Niki. You have your yogurt, which is probably just as sour as you are," you hissed, aware that half the table was snickering at your little scene.
"Everyone said we should share," he countered, "and I’ll share mine with your dessert." He gestured to your strudel, and you snapped:
"Well, I’d never trade my cake for yogurt I could get in the camp cafeteria!"
Before you could finish, he swooped in with lightning speed, bringing a piece of strudel to his mouth. You opened your lips to protest, but the sound died in your throat as Niki closed his eyes and let out a low, guttural moan, almost like a purr of satisfaction, that made your stomach flutter. He brought a finger to his lips to wipe away a trail of vanilla ice cream, and in that moment, you felt your ears burning.
"Mmm… I get why you don’t want to share," he said, his gaze lingering on your lips a second too long. "It’s delicious. I’ll have another bite." He leaned even closer to your plate, and you snapped:
"Forget it!" You clutched the plate to your chest like it was your most precious treasure, and he kept talking:
"Come on, Y/n, share a little. Don’t be a baby," he teased, and Lia, beside you, burst out laughing.
"You two are like an old married couple fighting over the remote. Y/N, just give him a piece—you know he’ll win anyway."
You shot her a glare. "You’re supposed to be on my side, Lia!" you grumbled, finishing your slice in quick bites while glaring daggers at Niki, who returned to his "boring" yogurt with berries. Halfway through, he held out the spoon with some fruit, but you shook your head proudly. Niki thought you were seriously acting like a child—a little pouty, a little stubborn—but that angry pout of yours made him feel things he shouldn’t, and he noticed how your eyes never left him, even if your glare was murderous.
After eating, the group split up, some hiked higher, while Niki, against all expectations, flopped onto a lounge chair in the sun. By 5 PM, when the air started cooling, Lia and the others approached you.
"We’re heading back, Y/n. Coming?" she asked.
You glanced at Niki, fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. It was strange: back at the bungalow, he fought insomnia until 2 AM, but here, on an uncomfortable wooden lounge chair, he looked like an angel (maybe a fallen one), wrestling with his demons. Without realizing it, you said:
"I’ll stay another half hour. We share the bungalow—I’ll make this sacrifice and head down with him."
Lia looked slightly surprised and glanced at the dark clouds gathering over the peaks. "Okay, but don’t take too long, the weather here changes in a heartbeat. Text me when you get back to camp."
You nodded and sat beside him, trying to focus on The Mistake by Elle Kennedy, but the words danced on the page. You’d been stuck on the same page for 10 minutes. When only a few people remained, you stood up and poked his back with a finger.
"Niki, stop sleeping. We need to go down," you said, but there was no response, you realized he had headphones in. You yanked them out with a sharp motion, cutting off the music.
"Niki Nishimura! We have to go back! You can sleep at the bungalow!"
He opened his eyes slowly and saw your braids swaying inches from his face. He let out a lazy, warm chuckle, and you huffed.
"What’s so funny? It’s past five, and it’s about to rain!"
Instead of answering, Niki reached out and tugged lightly on one of your braids, twirling it around his fingers with a familiarity that stole your breath...only your family ever played with your hair like that. You slapped his hand away.
"Are you crazy? Don’t touch my hair again, and let’s go—look what’s coming over the mountains!" You pointed to the dark clouds forming, and he sighed, stretching like a cat. In the movement, his ’80s band T-shirt rode up, and your eyes widened, right there, on his V-line, was a tattoo… red lips? They looked perfect, inked in such a scandalous spot that it made your head spin. Whose lips were those?
You shook your head, heat flooding your face. Grabbing your backpack, you spun around and jabbed a finger at him. "I’m not waiting for you anymore! Everyone else left an hour ago, and if you want to stay here and get struck by lightning, be my guest—because I’ve already been too nice waiting for you, and I don’t even know why!"
You stormed off, heart pounding at the memory of that tattooed skin shaped like lips, but after a few minutes, a familiar shadow fell over you. You turned and saw Niki, less than two steps behind, hair tousled, backpack slung over his shoulder, and that usual scowl etched on his face. You rolled your eyes, but deep down, the fact that he hadn’t left you alone sent a strange, annoying twist in your stomach. You nearly stopped in your tracks, and he said:
"Walk, wren," he murmured, brushing past you, leaving the scent of mint in the air. "Or I’ll have to fish you out of the mud when it starts raining!"
You hated Niki Nishimura with every fiber of your being, or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as the rain poured down, turning the Montana trail into a slippery, muddy mess. And for once, Niki had been right. Just minutes earlier, he’d said, "I’ll have to fish you out of the mud,"—and now, his words had become reality. You wanted to scream and kill him at the same time. The storm had only been raging for five minutes, but the water was already cascading down in sheets, and you clutched your backpack over your head in a desperate, useless attempt to stay dry. Meanwhile, you were seething—at yourself for not leaving with the others, at Niki for walking with an infuriating calm, as if he actually enjoyed this situation.
You shot him glowering looks until a deafening crack split the sky, thunder roaring through the mountains. You froze, paralyzed by the ominous sound. Everyone—your father, every camp instructor—had always drilled into you: "Never stay near trees during a mountain storm." And here you were, smack in the middle of a giant forest, your heart pounding with fear—for yourself, for Niki, for the fact that something terrible could happen to either of you.
Niki, realizing you’d stopped, whirled around. His usual bored expression vanished in an instant when he saw you—motionless, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders trembling. In three long strides, he was at your side.
"Why did you stop? We need to move!" he shouted over the rain, but you just stared at him, wide-eyed, hair plastered to your face.
"We’re going to get struck by lightning, Niki! It’s your fault! We’re still over an hour from camp, and we’re in the middle of nowhere!" you panicked. Another thunderclap, even closer, made the ground tremble. Before you could say another word, you felt Niki’s large, warm hand grab yours, and there was no time to protest—he started running, dragging you along in a frantic sprint through the downpour. You had to match his pace, even though you weren’t used to it.
"Do you even know where the hell you’re going?!" you yelled, but Niki didn’t answer. At the fork that led back to the summer camp, you watched in horror as he suddenly veered left.
"Are you SERIOUSLY going left?! The camp is to the RIGHT! Niki, I swear if I die because of you, my ghost will haunt you for the rest of your EXISTENCE—no, for ETERNITY!" you screamed. But instead of panicking, Niki burst out laughing a liberating, wild laugh, the kind of someone who hadn’t felt this alive and free in years, far from Chicago’s underground races and his parents’ problems. When he finally spotted an old abandoned barn between the trees, he pointed at it with a sharp gesture. As you stumbled inside, you were furious and immediately yanked your hand away as if it burned.
"I can’t believe this… How unlucky can I be? Why didn’t I just go down with Lia and the others? Why did I have the brilliant idea of waiting for you?!" you ranted, shivering from the cold. Niki shook the water from his hair like a wet dog and looked down at you—you seemed even smaller and more vulnerable, soaked and trembling.
"You should be thanking me, actually," he said with a vague gesture. "We’re safe, under a roof that’s protecting us from killer lightning and the storm."
You raised an eyebrow. "Thank you? For what, exactly?"
He huffed, stepping dangerously close to you. "Because you didn’t even know this shack existed. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be out there, frozen like a statue in the dark, drenched, and panicking in the storm. But hey, no problem, Y/n." He smirked, and you opened your mouth to retort but another flash of lightning lit up the sky outside, followed by thunder that seemed to shake the barn’s foundations. You shuddered violently, and before you even realized it, you stepped closer to him, seeking protection—though you were still seething.
"It’s all my fault…" you murmured, voice trembling. "I should’ve gone down with the others and left you there sleeping on the lounge chair. Now we’re stuck here all night? No, I’m NOT spending the night in here! What if a wolf comes in? Or a bear and eats us both? Or the roof collapses...."
But before you could finish, your words were cut off by Niki’s lips crashing against yours. You froze, stunned by the unexpected softness of his mouth. Your thoughts spiraled:
What is he doing? Is he actually kissing me? Should I pull away? Will it be awkward? Will he realize it’s my first kiss?
But every doubt vanished when you felt his lips part slightly, inviting you to respond. This kiss was nothing like you’d imagined—not the rough, aggressive kind you’d expect from a guy like him, always surrounded by girls. Instead, there was an unexpected sweetness that stole your breath as his lips gently coaxed yours open. Your hands acted on their own—one fisted his soaked T-shirt, feeling the heat of his chest, while the other rested on his solid shoulder. You parted your lips further, letting him deepen the kiss, and you sighed into it, tasting the lingering vanilla ice cream mixed with the mint of his breath. Niki let out a low, satisfied hum against your mouth, his lips lightly sucking your lower lip, a barely-there smirk forming between you—as if he knew he’d finally shut you up.
But then reality hit like a slap. You jerked back, pressing a trembling hand to your mouth, your heart pounding in your throat.
Niki had just stolen your first kiss...your very first kiss.
He stood still, towering over you with wet hair falling onto his forehead, watching you with a small smirk—finally, he’d managed to shut you up.
"You…" you whispered, pointing at him with a trembling finger. "Why did you kiss me?" you shrieked, shocked. Niki just shrugged with an infuriating nonchalance.
"I wanted to shut you up somehow, and I figured kissing you was the quickest way. That’s all… You were rambling too much, Y/n, and I hate people who talk too much."
Your cheeks burned, and you didn’t know whether to slap him or kiss him again. You opened your mouth to unleash a string of insults, to tell him how arrogant and presumptuous he was, but the words died in your throat. With a smooth, unembarrassed motion, Niki pulled off his soaked shirt, leaving you frozen, your eyes glued to his body—sculpted like marble, dark lines of tattoos snaking across his skin in designs you couldn’t quite decipher. But your gaze inevitably dropped lower, to that defined V-line disappearing into his wet jeans, to that lip-shaped tattoo that seemed both scandalous and sexy. Your cheeks flared with heat, and you snapped your eyes downward, pretending sudden interest in the muddy tips of your shoes.
Meanwhile, Niki pulled out a gray long-sleeved shirt from his backpack too thin for the dropping temperature—then a thick, carefully folded gray hoodie. You assumed it was for him, but instead, he stepped closer. Seeing you speechless for once, he teased with a chuckle:
"Damn, if kissing you or showing off my tattoos is what it takes to shut you up, I should’ve done it ages ago back at the bungalow. You never stop talking from morning to night!" he said with an annoying smirk.
"You’re an idiot!" you snapped, giving him a little shove, but he didn’t budge an inch. Instead, he draped his hoodie over your shoulders.
"Take off that blouse and put this on," he ordered, his gaze suddenly serious as he watched you shiver. "At least you’ll stay warm and won’t freeze to death before we get back to camp, otherwise, you’ll have a fever of 40 tomorrow."His eyes lingered on you, and you wanted to strangle him, but your chattering teeth wouldn’t let you play tough. The hoodie was soft, plush inside, and you nodded, but first, you muttered:
"Turn around. I need to change."
Niki shot you a challenging look that lasted a couple of seconds, then sighed and turned his back.
"Don’t you dare turn around, Niki, seriously, or..."
He burst out laughing, a low chuckle echoing against the wooden walls. "Or what, wren? You’ll kiss me this time?"
You wanted to scream, but while he kept teasing you, you moved fast as lightning, peeling off your soaked blouse that clung to your skin like ice. You slipped into his hoodie....massive, the sleeves swallowing your hands completely, the hem falling to mid-thigh but the worst… or best part? The smell. It was intensely him: peppermint and something spicy, and without thinking, you buried your face in the high collar, inhaling his scent.
Niki turned slowly, expecting you to be done but when he saw you drowned in his clothes, your nose pressed into the fabric as you sought his scent, he froze. His mind raced: You looked so small in his hoodie, like it was made for you. And he hated how good you looked in his clothes, it drove him crazy. You were the classic "good girl" who should’ve stayed far away from someone like him… and yet, at the same time, he wanted to break you, make you his, just to prove to the world that even good girls needed a guy like him.
You realized he was staring at you longer than usual, and you whispered, "Thanks."
Niki raised an eyebrow, surprised by your response. "Whoa, I should mark this day on the calendar! The Princess actually said thank you without a judge forcing her!" he teased, chuckling. You rolled your eyes, trying to reclaim some dignity.
"You should thank me," you said, puffing up slightly as you clutched the long sleeves against your chest. He crossed his arms, amused by your answer.
"Oh? And what exactly should I thank you for?"
"For waiting for you!" you replied proudly. "Otherwise, you’d still be here asleep on that lounge chair in the middle of the storm." You shot him a glare, and Niki smirked, running a hand through his damp, icy-blond hair. He didn’t thank you with words, but his gaze softened for a moment before he turned toward a wooden ladder leading to the upper level of the barn, where dry hay awaited.
You walked to the heavy door, slamming it shut to block out the howling wind. Meanwhile, Niki tested the sturdiness of the ladder rungs with a sharp tug. The old wood groaned slightly, but he figured it could hold your combined weight. He climbed first, and when he reached the top, he found a small loft filled with the sweet scent of freshly gathered hay—soft enough to lie down on. There were even old burlap sacks stuffed with raw wool serving as makeshift pillows. It wasn’t luxury, but compared to the mud and rain outside, it felt like paradise.
"Wren, we can stretch out up here until the storm passes," he called, leaning over the edge as he watched you climb. Niki unconsciously bit his lower lip, his hoodie nearly swallowed you whole, your usually neat braids half-undone and messy, your lips still slightly swollen and trembling from the earlier kiss. For a microsecond, he thought you looked cute before shaking his head to banish the dangerous thought.
The space up there was cramped, so you kicked off your shoes, mimicking his movement, and knelt on the hay, trying to ignore how your legs brushed against his. You looked around, careful not to let your eyes linger too often on his face or his body.
"They’re definitely looking for us," you murmured, trying to reassure yourself as the wind howled through the cracks in the roof. "The camp director and all the counselors must have already sent out search parties. They’ll find us soon." You watched the sky grow darker, lit only by the flashes of thunder that made the entire structure tremble. Without thinking, you scooted closer to Niki, who was already half-reclined, a strand of hay caught between his lips, lazily shifting it with his tongue.
"I bet they’re worried about you, wren, not me," he said with a hint of cynicism, his intense gaze fixed on you. "You’re everyone’s favorite at camp—the perfect girl who never breaks the rules and I’m just… me." His eyes drifted to a fixed point in the barn.
"That’s not true," you countered, pulling your legs against your chest and burying your chin in the collar of his hoodie. "I bet all the girls who flock around you, the ones who sigh when you walk by and gossip about you—they’re all worried about you!"
Niki propped himself up on an elbow, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he detected the sarcastic edge—and maybe a hint of irritation—in your voice.
"Mmm, someone’s jealous, or maybe..."
You didn’t let him finish, swatting his arm playfully. "Stop it!" you snapped, glaring at him. He chuckled at your flushed cheeks, and another thunderclap tore through the sky, so loud it felt like it exploded right above you. You visibly shuddered, inching even closer to him.
"Are you scared of thunder, or are you just cold, Shorty?" he asked, looking at you almost protectively. You sighed, feeling a little pressured by his gaze.
"Don’t make fun of me, but… both. I was stupid not to bring a change of clothes like you did, and thank God you gave me your hoodie even if I know you’re cold too right now."
Niki murmured that you were perceptive, and you closed your eyes, feeling exhaustion and the chill in your bones as you tried to relax a little.
"Look, I know you don’t like physical contact, and you can’t stand me and trust me, the feeling is mutual but we’re human, right? Maybe we could… I don’t know, keep each other warm." You blurted out what you were thinking, though you might have phrased it poorly, because Niki’s eyes shot open, almost shocked. He nearly choked on his own saliva at what you’d just said.
"You know what you just said sounds really bad, right, Y/n? When a girl asks a guy to ‘keep her warm’… we tend to think of things that are a little more intimate than just sharing a blanket." He laughed, teasing you, and you immediately covered your face with your hands, feeling your cheeks burn.
"Oh my God, no! That’s not what I meant! This is so embarrassing! I gave my first kiss to a guy I can’t stand, I’m trapped in a falling-apart barn, I’m freezing to death, and..."
Before you could finish, Niki’s strong arms wrapped around you with a determination that brooked no argument, pulling you against his chest. Without meaning to, you nestled against him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, your hands instinctively resting over his heart. For a moment, you froze, feeling it beating fast—too fast for someone who pretended to be so calm.
Niki stayed still for a few seconds, his breath catching in his throat. He was the guy everyone had warned you to stay away from—the one who had been the first to brush against those lips that tasted of vanilla and far too much innocence. He could imagine it, really, how it had been your first kiss, from the way you’d hesitated, from the sweet, uncertain tension in your movements. But hearing you say it out loud while trembling in his arms made him feel something he’d never experienced before. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of your head against his chest, and for the first time, his usual arrogance gave way to a strange, unfamiliar curiosity.
"Wren… I never would’ve guessed I’d be your first kiss," he said quietly. "Between summer camp and university, half the guys are crazy about you. I just assumed at least one of them would’ve had the guts to kiss you by now."
You stiffened instantly, burying your face deeper into his hoodie. "Let’s not get into that chapter of my life. It’s embarrassing…" you mumbled, trying to turn away to hide the blush now creeping down your neck. But Niki didn’t let you. He held you close, forcing you to stay put until you both settled more comfortably in the hay. He stretched out fully while you propped yourself up on one elbow, trapped between his body and the slow, lazy circles his finger began tracing through the damp ends of your hair.
"Undo your braids, Y/N, or tomorrow you’ll have impossible knots, and it’ll all be my fault for dragging you through the storm," he teased, trying to lighten the tension between you. He twirled a strand around his finger, watching the way the dim lightning reflected in your hair. You pouted.
"You undo them, since you like playing with my hair so much!"
Niki didn’t need to be told twice. He looked at you intently, his fingers deftly unraveling the braids. When your hair tumbled loose over your shoulders and into his hand, he ran his fingers through it, almost enchanted by its softness. The scent of cherry filled the air, overwhelming the usual mint and rain, and for a moment, he thought he’d want to bury his face in your hair every damn morning, not just when you invaded the bungalow bathroom with that fragrance. But he quickly pushed the thought away when he saw you nervously tucking the strands behind your ears.
"I’m sorry I stole your first kiss," he started, but he didn’t look at you. "I bet you wanted to give it to some perfect, upper-class guy—you know, the kind with a perfectly ironed shirt and his whole future already mapped out."
You rolled your eyes and sighed deeply at the sudden chill in his tone. "Well, I can’t go back now, and my dream of giving my first kiss to someone I actually like—someone who actually likes me—is officially gone."
Niki was staring at you too intensely, his face too close, and said:
"Well, since we’re stuck here… why don’t you kiss me this time? You know, just for practice… Think of it as training for your future ‘perfect guy.’ At least you’ll know what to do when you meet him."
Your eyes widened, your cheeks burning. "What? No! Are you crazy?" you stammered, trying not to look at him, but he kept teasing you.
"Don’t tell me you’re scared to kiss me," he smirked, closing the distance between you by another centimeter. "Because if you’re scared, it means you’re scared to admit you actually like me." He was showing off, and you seriously wanted to slap him.
"I don’t like you, Niki, and I never will. Get that through your head," you shot back with all the confidence you could muster, even though your heart was pounding wildly against your ribs. You refused to meet his gaze, but he just grinned.
"Good. Then kiss me, Shorty. If you don’t like me, there’s no risk, right? You can just use me as your guinea pig for practice," he continued, amused by your flustered state. He leaned in even closer, his mouth a breath away from yours.
"Unless… you’re not doing it because you think that if you kiss me again, you won’t be able to stop."
But you didn’t let him finish. Just like he had done to you earlier, you slammed your lips against his to shut him up once and for all.
Niki smiled immediately against your mouth, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you hard against him.
Your lips were still uncertain, guided by a shyness that Niki seemed eager to devour with every touch but he also found it sweet. When you felt his tongue brush against your lower lip, he began to suck on those lips no one had ever dared kiss before, and a stifled moan escaped your throat. Niki thought he might just be the luckiest guy in the world, finding himself in this barn with you nearly in his arms, kissing like this.
The hand that had been resting over his heart slid lower, tracing the taut planes of his stomach, while Niki buried his fingers in your loose hair, pressing his palm against the back of your neck to keep you from pulling away—to pull you even closer, because he didn’t want this moment to end. He wanted you to feel just how much you were driving him crazy, and you sighed against his mouth, dazed by the sensations he was giving you with just kisses.
Then, driven by an instinct you didn’t even know you had, you leaned forward and imitated his gesture, timidly sucking on his lower lip. Niki let out a low growl, shifting slightly beneath you as he felt how you were trying—so shyly, so clumsily to drive him wild. But you’d been driving him wild since the first time he’d seen you in the bungalow. He craved more friction, more contact, as if even the smallest space between your bodies was still too much—though there was none at all. Without warning, he pushed his tongue past your lips, and when your tongues met for the first time, you both moaned.
Niki lowered you completely onto the hay, his weight hovering over you not crushing you, but making you feel protected by his warmth, by him. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you so close you could feel every muscle in his body pressed against yours. You kissed for minutes that felt like hours, not just fleeting kisses, but a mix of shy discovery, playful dominance, and restraint, your lips wandering to his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Both of you were drowning in a whirlwind of sensations and emotions you’d never felt before, and neither wanted to stop.
You pulled away just long enough to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You felt his fingers trace the skin at your side, slipping beneath the hem of the hoodie as he held you possessively against him.
"Niki…" you breathed, but he didn’t stop looking at you. Instead, he pressed a finger to your swollen, glossy lips and whispered:
"Don’t think, Wren. Just kiss me."
You didn’t need to be told twice. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him back to you with a force that surprised him, playing with the icy-blond strands at his nape, tugging lightly. Niki groaned against your lips, sending a shiver through you, and you continued to alternate between deep kisses and playful nips, exploring each other in that makeshift refuge while the Montana cold stayed locked outside those walls. For the first time, you felt truly warm but also protected by someone everyone had warned you to stay away from.
Eventually, exhaustion claimed one of you first, and soon, the only sounds in the barn were the drizzling rain and your steady breaths as you fell asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.
After that weekend trapped in the barn, reality hit hard again, because even though you’d kissed and fallen asleep together, you’d hoped those kisses might have changed something in Niki, made him softer or more "human." But you’d made the biggest mistake of your life thinking that, because Niki had gone back to being his usual self or maybe even worse.
His cynicism had doubled, his taunts had become more relentless, driving you crazy and making you curse him 24h-24h. He teased you endlessly but at the same time made it clear that nothing had happened between you, that those kisses had meant nothing. It was frustrating because you had to see him all the time, and you would’ve changed bungalows every day if you could. But when you finally decided you’d had enough, you found yourself walking near the rec area to make sure the kids didn’t wander off and then you saw something surreal, yet sweet enough to warm your heart.
Niki was sitting on the grass with his legs crossed, his back against an oak tree. In front of him was Nina, one of the liveliest little girls in the group, who never left him alone. As usual, Nina was chattering away, telling him how much she adored you and how badly she wanted braids just like yours because her little hands couldn’t manage to gather all her hair. You hid behind a tree, your heart beating strangely.
You saw that Niki wasn’t ignoring her like he usually did. Instead, he ran a hand through Nina’s hair to smooth it, then began braiding it with millimeter precision, his tongue slightly peeking out between his lips in pure concentration a gesture you knew well, one he always made when he was deeply focused on something. As he braided, Nina started talking again:
"I didn’t think someone like you would know how to braid!" Nina exclaimed with the blunt honesty of a child who wanted all his attention. "I bet you only know how because you can’t stop watching Y/N do hers in front of the mirror or when it’s too hot." She giggled, and you saw Niki freeze for a split second before chuckling and shaking his head.
"Oops, you caught me, Nina," he said, and you felt your cheeks warm slightly because you’d never noticed him watching you braid your hair.
"I bet you and Y/n will end up together someday, and you’ll invite me to your wedding in a few years!" Nina said, tilting her head. "Even though I’m just a little kid, I can see how you look at each other, and you should be nicer to her, like you are to me right now." You nodded in agreement and wanted to rush over to high-five Nina and hug her, but you saw Niki give her hair a playful tug when those words left her mouth.
"Ahia!" she protested, swatting his arm, and Niki’s expression suddenly turned melancholic. He grew serious, and you heard him say:
"Y/n deserves a prince charming like in the fairy tales you read, Nina. She doesn’t deserve someone like me… I’m not what she deserves, and I never will be." He tied off the braids, and those words hit you hard because everyone had warned you to stay away from him, and now even he was saying he wasn’t the guy you deserved. You stood frozen as Nina hugged him, barely reaching his waist, and told him to stop being "the bad guy" just because he had tattoos and a scowl. Niki hugged her back tightly, then took out his phone to show her the braids in the camera.
"They’re beautiful, Niki! Thank you! When I see Y/n, I’ll tell her you did them!" Nina said, giggling as she ran off to find you. Niki shot her a look, calling after her:
"Nina! Don’t you dare tell her I did them!" he yelled as she scampered away laughing, and an involuntary smile tugged at your lips. But that sweet moment was wiped away just hours later.
You were near the showers by the lake when you heard a group of counselors giggling. At the center was Chloe, a head counselor like you, but oozing confidence from every pore. She was touching her lips with a dreamy, almost theatrical air as she told her friends what had happened between her and Niki the night before.
"Girls, I swear, Niki is… unreal," Chloe said, adjusting her low-cut tank top with a practiced gesture to draw the attention of the guys fixing the boats. "Last night, behind the tool shed… we kissed for who knows how long, and girls, I’ve never had a kiss like that. Niki’s rough, and let’s be honest, he always wants to be in control, but he knows exactly what he’s doing with those lips of his, they were practically on my..." She giggled. "I’ve never felt so… dominated before, and you all know I’m usually the one calling the shots with guys!"
You rolled your eyes, trying to push back the sudden sting in your eyelids at the thought of Niki kissing someone else as you walked back to the bungalow, you wondered:
Why do my eyes feel like this?
You were furious with yourself because you knew who Niki was a heartbreaker, a guy who lived for moments, not promises. You didn’t want to fall for him like everyone else… but maybe you already had. And you still had another month and a half of sharing a bungalow with him before returning to Chicago.
A month and a half had passed since the start of summer camp, and some of the kids, along with a few counselors had already headed back to Chicago. Thankfully, Lia had stayed with you for the entire summer. You’d said goodbye to all the kids and some of the counselors, and that very evening, fifteen new kids and four new counselors two guys and two girls had arrived.
Two weeks had passed since John’s arrival, and for Niki, every single second he saw or heard him was a struggle not to roll his eyes. John was the exact type of guy Niki despised: a campus swimmer with a blinding smile straight out of a YouTube ad preview, the kind that made you want to skip the video in the first five seconds. He studied English literature and flaunted quotes from authors who had been dead and buried for centuries. It was infuriating.
As you leaned over to tighten the kids’ life jackets, John hovered around you like always—ever since he’d arrived at camp, he’d had the brilliant idea of positioning himself as the prince charming you supposedly needed.
"Be careful, Y/n, don’t strain your back too much. Let me pull these canoe ropes—I wouldn’t want you to overdo it," John said, resting his hand on your shoulder for a second too long for Niki’s liking. Niki watched with a groan of despair as John flirted like an idiot something he’d been witnessing for days now: John sitting next to you at meals, John constantly finding excuses to touch you (though you were reluctant to his advances). One morning, Niki had even found him standing outside your bungalow at 7:30 AM, flashing that smug smile of his. Niki had wanted to make him disappear in zero seconds.
Let’s just say Niki didn’t like John, and the feeling was mutual. So when John found out you were one of the few girls sharing a room with a guy, he’d insisted on asking for explanations. But you’d told him there was nothing to be done, the pairs were set for the summer, and deep down, you didn’t mind staying with Niki. John, however, wasn’t thrilled with your arrangement, especially since everyone could see—and hear that there was still something unresolved between you two.
On the dock, while Niki waited his turn to get into the canoe with Nina, Lia approached him, thoroughly enjoying the show of his irritation toward you and John, a smirk playing on her lips.
"Mmm, someone here doesn’t seem to tolerate another alpha male in his territory," Lia murmured, crossing her arms as Niki snapped his head toward her, eyes narrowed.
"Mind your own business, Lia. That guy’s just… a loser."
Lia chuckled, watching as Niki couldn’t stop glancing at you for even a second.
"A loser, huh? Well, that ‘loser’ is getting all the attention you used to have just a few weeks ago! When are you going to stop acting like a jerk and show her who you really are? She won’t wait forever, Niki. It’s obvious from a mile away that you feel something for Y/n and it’s definitely not hate… Let’s just say ever since you kissed in that barn, the tension between you two could power the entire camp."
Niki froze for a second at Lia’s words, his expression confused. "How do you know that..." He cut himself off, realizing of course you and Lia were best friends and best friends told each other everything. Niki closed his eyes for a moment, and against his will, his mind played tricks on him, memories flooded back: the feel of your fingers in his hair, the way you’d responded to his kiss with that shy hesitation that had made his heart race, the way you’d clung to himl ike you were afraid he’d disappear from that barn.
When he opened his eyes again and saw how you smiled at that guy, he thought: John doesn’t know and never will what it’s like to feel you tremble when someone kisses you, how good it feels to be touched by you, how beautiful you look beneath him with swollen lips, neither of you able to stop kissing…
"I don’t feel anything for her, Lia. She could start dating that John kid tomorrow, and I wouldn’t care," Niki said, looking down for the first time in minutes and deep down, he didn’t even believe himself. Lia shook her head, looking at him with a pity that made him furious.
"You know, you’re not very good at lying, Niki. I thought you were smarter than this, but you’re just like every other guy in the world: the second you realize you feel something, you refuse to face the consequences. What’s the matter? Afraid that admitting even a scrap of emotion will make your ‘bad boy from Chicago’ aura vanish into thin air?" she taunted.
"You don’t know shit about me, Lia, and it’s better if your best friend stays as far away from me as possible… I’m not the happy-ending type, and she doesn’t need someone like me ruining her life," Niki hissed. Lia started walking toward her canoe but paused to land one last jab.
"Cut the tough-guy act, Niki, because if you keep this up, you’ll end up alone forever and trust me, a life with no one brave enough to love you, and no one you’re brave enough to love, isn’t much of a life. I’ll say it one more time: she won’t wait for you forever, Niki. So make a move, because honestly? I don’t like John either." She gave him a little smirk before walking off, leaving Niki standing there, motionless, as you climbed into the canoe with John’s help—and Niki watched as John’s hand brushed your waist to steady you.
In that moment, Niki didn’t just feel jealousy. He felt something else maybe the realization that he could lose you soon. And Niki wasn’t the type to lose something he wanted.
That evening, Niki was sprawled on his bed which was slightly too small for his height, relaxing and playing on his Nintendo Switch. He tried to focus on the game, but it was getting harder and harder not to steal glances at the creaky bathroom door you both shared. From the other side, your slightly off-key voice drifted out as you sang Legendary Lovers by Katy Perry, laughing between verses. You’d been in there way too long, usually, it took you ten minutes to throw on one of your matching, childish pajama sets after slathering on some weird aloe vera mask from too much sun. But when the door finally swung open, Niki expected to see you in your usual sleepwear.
Instead, you stood there in a short, black, slightly glittery top and a denim skirt that left your tanned legs bare. Your hair wasn’t in its usual braids—it was loose and wild, a mess of curls and waves tumbling over your shoulders. The scent of sakura hit him immediately, now so familiar it felt like home. Without realizing it, he let his Switch slide onto the comforter and propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze locking onto you as you adjusted yourself in front of the mirror.
"Where are you going, Y/n?" Niki asked, already dreading your answer. "As far as I know, there’s no bonfire tonight, and we’ve got to be up at seven tomorrow. Every human on this planet needs at least seven or eight hours of sleep." He mentally cursed himself, him, the guy who spent nights staring at the ceiling because of insomnia, was lecturing you about sleep.
"I’m going out," you said, checking your reflection in the mirror. Niki huffed, sitting up sharply. "I see your observational skills are still top-notch, Shorty. Obviously, you’re going out but where and with who? Not that it takes a genius to figure it out."
You didn’t answer. You were too focused on applying a bit of lip gloss that made your lips look even more tempting than they had that night in the barn. The memory alone made Niki’s fists clench.
"I bet you’re going out with John, huh?" he asked, almost laughing. "What’s the plan tonight? Is he gonna gift you a fairy-tale book or recite some famous 19th-century author to flirt with you?"
You whipped around. "Yes, I’m going out with him, and stop making fun of him. At least he’s kind a concept you struggle to understand, especially when it comes to me." You jabbed a finger at him, and right then, your phone buzzed on the table. A message from John: "I’m here."
When you looked up, Niki’s eyes were still locked on you and you on him. The tension in the room was electric, thick enough to cut with a knife. Neither of you wanted to make the first move. You were both too stubborn, too proud, neither breaking eye contact for even a second until Niki finally spoke:
"Go on, Y/n. Wouldn’t want to keep your dear John waiting. Just remember...midnight curfew, or this bungalow might turn into a pumpkin… and I might turn into something dark." He smirked, and you looked at him with a small smile before heading for the door.
"Don’t worry, Niki. I’ll be back by midnight. And don’t stay up waiting for me."
The door clicked shut behind you, and Niki stayed frozen, listening to the sound of your voice greeting John outside. He dragged a hand down his face, groaning as he flopped back onto the bed, running his fingers through his hair.
Like hell I’m not staying up waiting for you, Wren.
Your date with John was going perfectly...too perfectly, perhaps and that was the main problem. John seemed like the prince charming every mother would dream of for her daughter.
You were sitting on the dock, wrapped in a blanket he had spread out with maniacal precision, surrounded by snacks and drinks arranged like a scene from a 2000s romantic movie. Everything was perfect: fireflies dancing over the water, stars twinkling in the sky, the moon casting a silver glow on the lake, creating an almost fairy-tale atmosphere. John was attentive, kind, funny, and you laughed a lot, he was the kind of guy who could put anyone at ease. For any other girl, this would have been the perfect date. But there was one problem for you: you felt nothing.
There was no tension, no attraction, no shiver running down your spine when someone looked at you in a certain way. John was perfect, yes but too perfect, like a character straight out of a book, one of those flawless ones, without the fire that made you feel alive. You couldn’t stand those kinds of characters because everyone had their demons, and it was beautiful to see people’s vulnerabilities and flaws. But John seemed to have none or he was just really good at hiding them.
"When we get back to Chicago, I’d love for you to come see me compete in the regional swimming championships. And who knows, if I win, I might even get you to wear a hoodie with my name on it," he said, smiling at you. You nodded, smiling back.
"It would be nice to come watch you. I’ve never been to a swimming meet only football or basketball games," you replied, looking around. He nodded.
"Then it’ll be an honor to be the first swimmer you come see at the campus," he said, preening slightly. A moment later, a light breeze picked up, tousling your hair. A few strands fell against your lips, still glossy, and you laughed but at the same time, you looked up, annoyed, because you hated when your hair stuck to your lips. You tried to brush it away, but John was faster. Gently, he leaned in and tucked the strands behind your ear.
"There you go, Y/n," he said, his hands lingering near your face for a second too long. Your eyes met, and in that moment, you thought only one thing:
Don’t kiss me. Don’t kiss me. Don’t kiss me.
But John couldn’t hear your thoughts. For him, this was the climactic moment, like in a romance novel or movie where the two protagonists finally kiss and confess their feelings. He saw you there, cheeks flushed from the wind, hair tousled, illuminated by the moon’s silver reflection on the water and he thought there was no better moment to lean in and kiss you. Without thinking, he slowly leaned toward you, closing his eyes and tilting his face, ready to claim what he thought was a silent invitation but deep down, it wasn’t. You immediately caught the scent of his expensive, good cologne, so different from Niki’s that sharp, spicy peppermint that only he could pull off.
Before John’s lips could brush yours, your body reacted on its own a survival reflex. You jerked upright, the wooden planks creaking under your shoes. When John opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the empty space where your face had been a second before. You stood a step back from him, arms crossed over your chest as if protecting yourself from a closeness you didn’t want. He remained half-reclined on the blanket, wearing the most humiliated, confused expression you’d ever seen on a guy.
"I… I’m sorry, John," you whispered, feeling just as embarrassed. You seriously wished you could vanish right then. "I can’t… I can’t return the kiss or anything else." You took another step back.
"Y/n, wait...did I do something wrong?" he asked, trying to get up, but his voice was thick with the awkwardness of someone who’d just been brutally friend-zoned.
"No, you were perfect," you answered sincerely and it was true. John had been sweet to you from the start, and for any other girl, this date would have been perfect. "I’m the problem, not you. This whole date you planned was magical… but not for that’s the point. I’m sorry, again."
And without giving him a chance to respond, you turned and walked quickly toward the bungalows, not stopping even when you heard your name called faintly in the distance. You kept your head down, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your heart pounding almost relieved that you hadn’t kissed John back and you realized it was pounding because you didn’t want a perfect prince, you wanted a guy with a thousand flaws, a thousand fears of admitting what he truly felt for you.
You tiptoed in, your heart still pounding from your hasty escape from the dock, hoping against hope that Niki had somehow fallen into one of his rare deep sleeps, though you knew there was a 99% chance he was awake (that guy barely slept at all). Your hope died the moment your eyes landed on the fully lit room and his hulking figure.
Niki wasn’t asleep. He was lying on his side, his feet hanging off the edge of the mattress, one hand propping up his blond head, and the other clutching your copy of The Mistake by Elle Kennedy, the cover already creased. Your eyes widened in horror at the sight.
"What the hell are you doing, Niki? Put that book down right now!" you shrieked, your voice shattering the silence as your cheeks burned.
He jolted at the sound of your voice clearly not expecting you back so soon but recovered his usual arrogance in a heartbeat. As you lunged for the book, Niki sat up and lifted his arm toward the ceiling. At over 185 cm tall, reaching it was like trying to scale a skyscraper.
"Damn, it’s not even 11:30, and you’re already back? That date must’ve been a disaster, Shorty!" he chuckled, flashing that infuriating smirk. You wanted to slap him.
"My date is none of your business! Give me back my book, now!" you huffed, rising onto your toes and uselessly trying to climb his solid chest to reclaim your precious paperback—especially since you hoped he hadn’t gotten far enough to read the slightly "spicy" scenes in the early chapters.
"Who would’ve guessed?" he continued, ignoring your desperate attempts. "Y/n, the girl with the perfect braids and the 'good girl' soul that everyone adores, reads what’s basically porn disguised as literature! Does John know? Or does he still think you’re completely innocent?"
You froze, hands pressed to your face to hide your mortification, not just because Niki had discovered your romance novels, but because they weren’t normal romances. No, these had full-on steamy chapters. You were too tired, too confused, too embarrassed by everything that had happened that night, so you snapped:
"Keep the damn book, Niki. Do whatever you want with it. I’m going to change." You threw your hands up in defeat, and Niki’s eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up in shock.
Is she seriously letting me win? Just like that?
But he didn’t let you be. As you stepped into the bathroom to remove your makeup, you heard his footsteps follow you. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his muscular arms over his chest, watching you through the mirror as you nervously wiped away your mascara.
"It must’ve gone really badly if you don’t even have the energy to fight with me, Y/N. Come on, Shorty, tell me. What did that loser do?"
You stayed silent, but he kept teasing you, stepping closer and lowering his head to enter your line of sight. "Come on, Y/N, what did he do to make you come back so early? It hasn’t even been two hours since you left… Honestly, if I had a date with a girl I liked, I’d stay with her all night." He watched you, and you sighed, exhausted by his questions and the whole situation.
"He tried to kiss me, Niki!" you blurted out, spinning around so fast you nearly threw the cotton pad in your hand at him.
For the first time in a long while, the room fell into a deafening silence. Niki’s jaw clenched so hard you saw the muscles in his neck tighten like ropes. His mocking gaze darkened, and he lowered his face slightly, avoiding your eyes for a moment.
"Did you… I mean… did you kiss him back?" he asked quietly. You stayed silent for a few seconds, watching him, and saw a shadow of sadness, something you’d never seen on his face before—cross his features. Niki took your silence as confirmation.
"No, Niki. I didn’t kiss him. In fact, one of the most embarrassing things of my life happened. While he leaned in, thinking he had me, I moved away, and he just sat there with his mouth open like a goldfish, staring at space for what felt like forever until he realized I wasn’t there anymore." You said it all in one breath, and for a full minute, neither of you spoke. Niki brought a hand to his lips, trying to stifle a sound that was half sigh of relief, half hysterical laugh, and tried to speak—but you shot him a glare.
"Now get out of here because I need to change, and I just want to go to sleep. Please don’t ask any more questions, Niki." You pushed him out with all your strength, slamming the door shut and leaning against it.
"Y/n?" he called softly, his tone suddenly serious.
"Go to bed, Niki. Please."
For the first time in weeks, Niki listened. He got into bed and waited for you. When the bathroom door finally reopened, he watched you walk slowly and turn off the small light, letting only the moonlight filtering through the curtains illuminate the room. You slipped under the covers and, for the first time in hours, felt safe maybe even at peace with yourself because Niki was just a few feet away.
"Sweet dreams, Wren," he murmured into the darkness, his voice completely sincere for once.
"Goodnight, Niki," you replied, your mind already sinking into the pillow. Niki waited until he heard your breathing slow and steady, and only then did he close his eyes. And for the first time since he’d arrived in Montana, he fell asleep too maybe because, deep down, he knew you hadn’t kissed that guy back because there was someone else in your heart, and that someone was him.
The wind howled outside the window, and the rain pounded relentlessly against the bungalow’s glass, the distant rumble of thunder stirring a mix of anxiety and drowsy comfort in you. You burrowed deeper under the covers, savoring that moment of peace before reality hit but it didn’t last long—the walkie-talkie every counselor kept on their nightstand screeched to life, and you groaned, stretching out a sleep-heavy arm to grab it, still half-asleep.
As you blinked your eyes open to keep from dropping the device, you saw that Niki was still fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the apocalyptic weather outside. One arm dangled off the bed, and his face was twisted into an adorably childish pout—nothing like the arrogant, athletic guy he pretended to be during activities. The camp director’s voice came through clear and lively, snapping you back to reality, and you tore your gaze away from the guy snoring softly with his mouth open.
"Good morning, everyone," the director’s voice boomed from the walkie-talkie, followed by a chorus of groggy "good mornings" from the other counselors. You mumbled yours, too.
"I think you’ve all heard and seen what’s happening outside your cabins, trees down, the path to the main lodge is completely flooded. Strong wind gusts are expected today and tomorrow, rain for the next three days straight, and a violent thunderstorm with lightning is forecast for late afternoon." As the director spoke, you heard Niki let out a sleepy groan as he began stretching like a cat, his too-long, too-bulky body barely fitting on his bed.
"The kids are safe in the main building with us," the director continued. "Those of you in the bungalows will have to stay inside for at least two days. You’ve all got kitchens and enough food to survive. Stay safe, and please… don’tkill each other if you don’t get along. I know some pairs have… history, but behave, you’re not kids anymore! The radios stay on for emergencies. Have a good day."
Niki opened one eye, then the other, and looked at you, his voice still thick with sleep. "What’d he say?" he mumbled, sinking back into his pillow.
"He said we’re officially prisoners," you replied, staring at the low, gray clouds beyond the window. "Every time it rains, you and I end up stuck sharing the same space. It’s a curse." You pouted slightly, and Niki chuckled, watching you.
"Come on, wren, don’t tell me you’re complaining. Think about it—you could’ve been stuck with John. Having him around 24/7, knowing you’d friend-zone him after two..."
Before he could finish, you grabbed your pillow and hurled it at his face with all your strength. He burst into loud laughter, effortlessly catching it with his annoyingly quick reflexes, the pillow never even grazing his face.
"Please, Niki! Let’s not talk about John or yesterday’s disaster date," you groaned, sinking back into bed and pulling the covers up to your nose. You just wanted to disappear and forget the embarrassment of last night.
Niki stayed quiet for a moment, watching you hiding under the covers, and something in him swelled at how cute you looked. Without thinking, he said:
"What do you say we watch a movie or a show these next few days? We can push the beds together to make one big bed and watch it side by side?" He watched you, clutching the blankets tightly, waiting for an answer.
Your eyes widened from under the covers, a ping of anxiety shooting through you.
What did he mean by this? Did he want to be close to me? Did he want to sleep with me? Or was this just another way to tease me like usual? You wondered, pushing the warm blankets off your body. You saw him watching you and nodded.
"No problem for me. Let’s move them...at least your giant body that’s more like a pole will be more comfortable, and you’ll stop kicking at nothing."
He rolled his eyes at your joke but couldn’t hide a small smile. He got up while you were still sitting on your bed, and with ease, he started shifting the nightstand between you. In just a few minutes, his bed was aligned perfectly with yours, the two now connected with a mountain of shared blankets in the middle.
"First, though, I need to eat," you said, your stomach growling. "Otherwise, the next thunder you hear might be my stomach." You patted your belly, and Niki laughed, taking in the sight of you—hair tousled, way too cute for his own good.
The kitchen was tiny, and every time one of you moved, you bumped elbows or backs into the other. It looked like one of those cute couples from ads, feeding each other—except you two weren’t a couple.
Niki handled the moka pot, while you started slicing strawberries and bananas with surgical precision. He popped bread into the toaster until it was perfectly crisp, then began spreading on a generous layer of Nutella, so much that the edges were already oozing over as you watched him get his fingers messy, you laughed.
"That’s bread with Nutella, Niki, not Nutella with a little bread," you teased, sitting on the counter and swinging your legs.
"Life’s too short to skimp on chocolate, wren!" he shot back, stepping closer to add your strawberries on top of the dark spread.
You and Niki continued eating in an unusual silence for the two of you, broken only by the rumble of thunder and the sound of rain pounding on the tent. Every now and then, your eyes met, only to quickly slide away toward the window, where the clouds were so low it felt like you were in a place that wasn’t quite real a world where it was just the two of you.
As you took the last bite of your second slice of bread and Nutella, you felt his eyes on you. It wasn’t the look of someone who wanted to argue or tease you—there was something almost thoughtful in the way he watched you.
"Wait, you’re messy. Again," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and provocation, pointing to his own lip as a reference for where you should clean. "You really don’t know how to eat like a normal person, do you, Shorty?"
You rolled your eyes, trying to wipe your mouth. "If I’m messy, it means I enjoyed it. Or maybe someone here went way overboard with the Nutella, and that’s why I’m covered in it!" you shot back, trying to clean your lips with your index finger, but all you managed to do was smear the sticky mess even more. Niki let out a sound that was half sigh, half laugh. Without a word, he took two steps forward, then leaned in between your legs, forcing you to tilt your chin up to maintain eye contact. His hair was still a little tousled from the pillow, falling over his forehead in a soft fringe that gave him an almost "good boy" vibe.
Your heart pounded against your chest at his closeness. Niki hadn’t been this close to you since… well, that kiss in the barn.
He raised his hand slowly, as if giving you time to pull away but you stayed still, and you felt the pad of his thumb press against the corner of your mouth. A violent shiver ran down your spine as he traced the entire outline of your lower lip with maddening slowness. Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t look away. A moment later, he pressed his thumb gently against the Nutella smear on your lip, collecting the last trace of chocolate.
"There. All clean, Shorty," he murmured in a husky voice. Then, with a boldness only Niki could pull off, he brought his chocolate-stained finger to his lips and slowly licked it, never breaking eye contact. The intimacy of the gesture so forbidden, so raw—left you stunned, your lips parting slightly in shock.
You and Niki were centimeters apart, and if he had leaned in even a millimeter, your lips would have met again. You swallowed hard, and for a second… you wanted it. You wanted him to do it again but then, like a sudden flash, you remembered all the campus rumors—all the girls he’d looked at with those same eyes, all the girls he’d kissed so you took control of the situation.
"Well… thanks for cleaning me up," you said, your voice trembling slightly. You placed your hands on his chest and gently pushed him away, sliding off the counter in one swift motion.
"I… I’m going to the bathroom for a second, and then yes, we can watch a show. You can even pick it. Happy?" you said, rushing toward the bathroom and shutting the door behind you, pressing your back against it.
Montana had decided to play cruel tricks or maybe it was just trying to force you and Niki together as much as possible. What was supposed to be a brief storm had turned into an endless weather alert: the two days of forced isolation had stretched into four, turning your bungalow into a temporary refuge where you had to coexist with Niki for four straight days without stepping outside.
Incredibly, for forty-eight hours straight, you hadn’t killed each other. In fact, you’d even established a routine, though, of course, the jabs and teasing never stopped. They were what kept the electricity in the bungalow alive. Niki had teased you all through the first night after you, terrified by the thunder and jump scares from the horror movie he had insisted on watching (you cursed yourself for letting him pick), had spent the night wide-eyed until 3 AM until Niki, in the dark, had reached out and let you grip his strong fingers until you finally fell asleep. The next morning, his hand was still entwined with yours, and both of you had shifted closer in the bed.
You, of course, hadn’t let up on how useless he was in the kitchen, the man would’ve survived on instant ramen for all four days if you hadn’t been there. He had the uncanny ability to make even the water in the kettle disappear if you weren’t careful. But thanks to you, you ate normally. By the third day, you were exhausted from being so close to him, so you decided to hide in the bathroom for a regenerating shower, and honestly, you got lost in your thoughts, taking advantage of a lull in the lightning to truly relax—maybe even staying under the water a little too long.
When you finally stepped out, wrapped in steam, your eyes widened in horror when you saw that where you swore you’dleft your change of clothes for the night, there were only your panties. No shirt, no pants...nothing.
You swallowed hard, realizing you had to get out somehow, and you definitely weren’t calling Niki, he’d never let you live it down. So, carefully, you opened the door to Niki’s closet, which was right there within reach. It was filled with his "organized chaos" a system only he understood. Without overthinking it, you grabbed a deep burgundy T-shirt of his that smelled like him and tried on his pants but they were comically huge. The shirt, however, reached mid-thigh, and you thought:
Whatever. It’s only five steps to my closet. He won’t even notice I’m wearing his shirt.
You dried your hair, applied your sakura-scented cream, smelling of spring and cherry blossoms and opened the door. A wave of that fragrance immediately filled the bungalow, but your heart stopped when you saw Niki. He wasn’t at his PC, wasn’t playing his Switch, he was lying on the bed, his back against the wall, and in his hands was your Elle Kennedy book… that book… the one with the colorful Post-its marking the spiciest scenes.
"Niki, put that book down!" you squealed, your voice cracking with embarrassment. He burst out laughingm but when he looked up, his eyes weren’t on the pages anymore. They were locked on you on his burgundy shirt clinging to your body, on your bare legs, still warm from the shower, radiating heat and scent. You tried to lunge for the book, but with his lightning reflexes, he lifted his arms above his head. So you stood on your toes, pressing your body against his in an attempt to reach it but you heard Niki swallow loudly. You were so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, and you realized the shirt was riding up dangerously as you stretched.
"Niki, stop reading that thing! Give it back!"
"And why should I? It’s a good book," he said, his voice rough. "Every time I read further, I find scenes that are… decidedly spicy… scenes that you, the good girl you pretend to be, act like you don’t understand, right, Wren?"
You kept struggling until, with a sharp motion, he tossed the book onto the floor. You glared at him with pure hatred.
"Oh my God, I can’t stand you, Niki! You always have to snoop, you always have to touch my things! I don’t touch yours! I never touch the stupid drawings that you guard like a relic! And I don’t know how we’ve gone two days without fighting, you’re insufferable!" you shouted, turning your back on him to rush and pick up the book from the floor. But he moved faster, blocking you before you could bend down and this time, he wasn’t laughing.
"You’re insufferable too, Y/N!" he shouted back. "I can’t stand the way you look at me. I can’t stand when you pretend not to realize how damn hard it is for me to be locked in here with you 24/h, I can’t stand my own head, always bringing me back to you, making me imagine what you’d be like if you were really mine and I can’t stand that you play innocent and then read these stories where the characters do everything because it’s driving me crazy!"
He took a step forward, looming over you, and you stayed frozen, staring at him.
"I can’t stand seeing you in my clothes because I want to see you in them all the time, to mark you as mine but at the same time, I want to rip them off you and I hate....I hate with every part of me seeing you with other guys, especially that loser John. I can’t stand you because from the first moment I saw you in this damn summer camp, the only thing I wanted was for you to be mine and the worst punishment they could’ve given me was making me live with you, Y/n."
He said it all in one breath, and the silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of the rain. Niki shot you one last burning glance, then turned toward the kitchen, heading straight for the exit door. He wanted to leave, to run out into the storm rather than face what he’d just confessed and you hated his completely bipolar personality.
But you couldn’t let him go, not after that. You were tired of this situation, and before his hand could grab the doorknob, you reached him and grabbed his wrist tightly.
"Don’t you dare walk away from me, Niki," you whispered, your voice low. "Don’t you dare leave me here after saying all that."
Without hesitation, you rose onto your toes, your fingers gripping the fabric of his burgundy shirt at his chest, and timidly pulled him toward you, pressing your lips against his. For a moment, Niki stayed frozen, surprised by your boldness so far outside your comfort zone but then, as if an electric shock had jolted him awake, he took control, not wasting a second to claim what he’d wanted for so long.
His hand slid possessively over your side, his long, warm fingers pressing into your skin through the thin fabric, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. With his other hand, he cupped your cheek, his thumb gently tracing your soft skin in a way that stole your breath. The kiss shifted instantly, no longer the awkward, hesitant one from the barn. Now, it was passionate, desperate, as if both of you had been craving this for far too long. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers burying into his still-damp hair, while he leaned down slightly, erasing every last centimeter of distance between you.
His tongue insistently traced the outline of your lips, teasing, asking for access and you granted it with a deep sigh that sent shivers through Niki. When his tongue finally slid against yours, the kiss deepened, and the only sounds in the bungalow were the patter of rain, the howl of the wind, and your ragged breaths.
Niki let out a low, rough chuckle against your lips at the sound of your sigh, and he couldn’t wait to hear you moan in pleasure, to see you vulnerable and responsive under his touch.
"God, you drive me crazy, wren…" he murmured between kisses, before playfully nipping at your lower lip.
"Niki…" you moaned softly, almost worried someone might hear. His name slipped from your lips in a way that was so sweet, yet so sexy, it made him shiver for a moment. Usually, when you said his name, it was to tease or scold him, but now… now, you were saying it because yes, he was teasing you but in a way he wanted to do every day, to kiss you, to drive you wild with his touch.
Niki pulled back slightly, your faces just centimeters apart, and sighed near your lips:
"Tell me it’s the same for you, Y/n. Tell me," he demanded, slowly pushing you backward toward the sleeping area. A few moments later, your knees hit the edge of the "super-bed", and you tumbled onto the mattress, pulling him down with you. Niki positioned himself above you, supporting himself on his forearms so as not to crush you, while you kept your arms locked around his neck.
You tried to kiss him again, but he pulled back with a challenging smirk.
"No, no. I’ve laid my cards on the table, wren… now it’s your turn. Otherwise, we’ll stay like this all night… or all day tomorrow until you talk." He grinned, and the silence grew heavy again until Niki decided to torture you further, lowering himself slowly and pressing his lips against the warm, sensitive skin of your neck.
"N-Niki… please…" You whispered, tilting your head to give him more space.
"You speak just fine when you want to, Y/n, too well, in fact," he murmured against your skin, alternating wet kisses with playful nips of his teeth. "So tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, or we’re not going anywhere."
You clung to his biceps, feeling the strength of his muscles under your fingers, and tugged lightly at his hair to get his attention.
"Fine! Fine, you win!" you blurted out in one breath. "I can’t stand you either, Niki. Everyone, every single person told me to stay away from you, that you were trouble, and maybe you still are. But fate decided to be ironic and stuck us in this bungalow for the whole summer… At first, I really couldn’t stand you: you were grumpy, arrogant, you teased me every second, and you were way too bipolar for my taste!" You said it all in one rush, and he chuckled against your skin, his lips placing light kisses as they traveled up toward your jaw while his hand slid under the hem of your shirt, stopping at the bare curve of your waist. You bit your lip to hide how much you liked his touch—too much for your own good.
"Keep going, Y/n. Don’t stop now," he murmured against your ear, and you lifted your eyes, feeling vulnerable but determined to say what you felt.
"You win, Niki. Ever since you kissed me in that barn, everything changed… My feelings went out of control for you. And just like you hate John… I… I hated hearing the other counselors talk about you, hated hearing how good you were at kissing, or how they wanted to get your attention or end up in your bed. And yes, I’ll admit it, it drove me crazy with jealousy. So yes… what do you feel? That’s exactly what I feel."
You lowered your gaze, unable to hold his, afraid for a second that he might laugh at you or go back to being his usual cynical self. But instead, you felt his fingers gently lift your chin, and when you met his eyes again, you saw something different in his gaze. He leaned toward you, stopping a breath away from your lips.
"We’ve been two stubborn fools for not realizing this sooner, Y/n," he murmured, his breath mingling with yours. "And I don’t intend to waste any more time. We’ve figured out we like each other, and that’s all that matters in this damn bungalow but don’t think I’ll stop giving you a hard time," he added, pinching your side lightly to make you flinch. "We’ll never stop cursing each other out, right?"
You laughed and pulled him closer, nodding fiercely. "Never, Niki. I’ll never stop teasing you or busting your balls."You caressed his cheek, and he smiled against your lips a real, bright smile you’d never seen on him before and kissed you again, but this time more gently, as if he wanted to seal every word you’d just said into his memory.
That evening, you were tangled in the blankets of your "super-bed," kissing until your lips were tender, alternating between kisses and long moments of silent gazes while a K-drama played on the screen. Niki, who had initially pretended to watch it just to humor you, ended up being the most invested in the plot, commenting on every twist and teasing how obvious it was which of the two protagonists would fall in love first. He mocked how cliché and over-the-top it all was just to make any girl dream but even he couldn’t hide his interest.
But after a couple of episodes, you yawned for the tenth time in half an hour, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.
"What a lightweight you are, Wren," Niki muttered, rolling his eyes with an amused smirk. "It’s barely 10 PM, and you’re already crashing. Are you really just a little girl who needs her beauty sleep, or do you turn into a grump without it?" He watched as you snuggled deeper into the warm blankets and muggled into them.
"A lightweight? Please. It’s a talent not everyone has, to fall asleep in a minute and sleep more than eight hours,"you replied, your voice already thick with sleep as you settled more comfortably against the pillow. "I love sleeping, and I love going to bed early. It’s a natural gift." You closed your eyes slightly but could still feel his gaze on you, almost like a physical sensation.
"Stop staring at me, Niki," you mumbled, keeping your eyes shut.
"And how do you know I’m staring at you if your eyes are closed? Do you have psychic powers, Wren?" he shot back, amused.
At that, you suddenly opened your eyes wide and caught him red-handed. Niki, with his lightning reflexes, quickly shifted his gaze to the wooden wall as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world, but a guilty little smirk gave him away.
"Busted!" you exclaimed in a whisper, stretching a hand under the blankets. Your fingers searched for his, and almost playfully, you brushed the back of his hand. He stayed still for a second, didn’t fully intertwine his fingers with yours, but he didn’t pull away either. You felt his warmth blend with yours, and then he squeezed your hand.
"Mmm… I was thinking about that night you held my hand because you 'knew I was scared of horror movies'…"you started, teasing him with a sly expression. "Admit it, it was just a pathetic excuse to get a little physical contact with me. The camp’s bad boy needed to hold my hand?" You laughed, feeling his grip tighten slightly. He huffed, trying to pull away, but you were faster. You grabbed his hand firmly and pressed it against your chest, holding it tight over your irregularly beating heart.
"Shut that mouth of yours, wren, and go to sleep, or I’ll throw you out of bed," he grumbled, but he made no move to take his hand back. Instead, you felt his thumb gently trace the warm skin of the back of your hand, and you chuckled softly, savoring that moment of pure sweetness.
"Goodnight, Ki," you said but before drifting off completely, you did something you would’ve never dared just a few days ago—maybe it was the coziness of the bungalow that gave you courage. With a quick movement, you propped yourself up slightly on your elbows and, in a move that would’ve shocked your past self, you leaned toward him and planted a quick kiss just under his chin, right where a new mole was. Then, as if nothing had happened, you burrowed back under the covers, pulling them up over your nose to hide the triumphant smile lighting up your face.
From your privileged position, you caught a glimpse of his face through a gap in the blankets. Niki was literally stunned, his usually teasing eyes wide as they stared at you, his jaw slightly slack, and a faint, almost invisible blush tinting his cheekbones. You heard him sigh as he, too, closed his eyes, continuing to gently stroke the palm of your hand until you both sank into a deep sleep almost completely tangled together, hands still intertwined.
The fourth day of isolation began with the same terrible weather as the day before, and Montana showed no signs of letting up. The sky was still heavy with rain, and every so often, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed through the windows.
After a lazy breakfast filled with whispered laughter and lingering glances, you finished the TV series marathon you’d both enjoyed. Niki, using the excuse that he hadn’t slept well all summer, finally gave in to exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep that afternoon.
He’d dozed off with one arm possessively wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, and you’d never have guessed, seeing him up close like this how much he looked like a puppy while he slept. At the same time, you couldn’t help but notice how much he needed to touch you. You’d already realized back in the barn that Niki loved physical contact with you, but after yesterday, he hadn’t stopped resting a hand on your waist while you cooked, playing with your loose hair, tracing circles on your palm, or kissing you casually. And deep down, you loved this side of him that he only showed to you.
You stayed awake, your heart still beating a little faster from his closeness, and finally picked up The Mistake by Elle Kennedy again. For over an hour, the only sounds in the bungalow were the rustle of pages and Niki’s steady breathing against your shoulder as he napped. You were completely absorbed in Logan and Grace’s story, chuckling to yourself at Logan’s ridiculous lines and underlining the most iconic scenes the book was now covered in colorful Post-its peeking out from the edges.
"I’m going back to sleep for a bit, and of course, you’ve used that as an excuse to get further into this porn disguised as romance!"
Niki’s sleep-thickened voice made you jump, and you instinctively pressed the book to your face to hide your guilty expression. He unwound his arm from around you, stretching lazily, his hair falling over his forehead. When his eyes landed on the book, a crooked smirk tugged at his lips as he took in the avalanche of new Post-its you’d added since the last time he’d seen it.
"Come on, Wren, don’t play innocent," he said, rolling onto his side to get a better look at you. "Admit you like it and admit you don’t just like it because it’s a 'romance,' but because of those spicy scenes you’d love to try for the first time in your life." He chuckled, and you let the book slide just enough for him to see your eyes a mix of embarrassment and something else.
Your cheeks were a soft pink, a stark contrast to the burgundy of his shirt, which you were still wearing. Niki thought you looked beautiful, but most of all, he thought your little pout was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
"Niki, spicy scenes are in every book these days," you shot back, trying to sound confident. "You shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not as innocent as you think. Okay, fine, I haven’t had… direct experience… but I know what happens between a man and a woman when they like each other. So…"
Before you could finish, Niki lunged at you with feline speed, closing the distance between you. His face was a breath away from yours, but instead of kissing your lips, he diverted to your earlobe, brushing it lightly with his lips.
"And what do you know, Wren?" he whispered. "Come on, tell me what you’d want the guy you like… who happens to be me… to do." He added that last part with the arrogance that usually made you furious but now, it just made you shiver.
You rolled your eyes, muttering that he was getting too full of himself, but your knuckles were white from how tightly you were gripping the book’s cover.
"Come on, Y/n," he insisted, his voice rough. "Tell me what those two protagonists do… what you’d want you and me to… replicate?"
You swallowed hard, feeling how much Niki was teasing you, pushing you. "I… I’d like to be kissed in other places… not just on the mouth," you confessed, closing your eyes.
Niki smiled against your skin, and you felt the warm, wet pressure of his lips just below your jaw, a slow kiss that traveled up toward your ear. "Keep going," he urged, still teasing.
"I’d like… yes, for your hands to touch me in places no one ever has… and at the same time…" You paused, feeling your cheeks burn. "I’d like to kiss you in a very specific spot."
Niki froze for a second at your words, his mind racing through all the possible scenarios of where you might want to kiss him. You heard him swallow hard, one eyebrow arching in an expression somewhere between disbelief and ecstasy.
"And where would you like to kiss me?"
You lifted a trembling finger and pressed it just below his waist, on the left side right where the lip-shaped tattoo marked his skin, just above the waistband of his pants. "Here."
Niki stared at you in silence for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. You looked at him with a slightly offended pout, but he never took his eyes off you. Still watching you, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and, in one fluid motion, pulled it off, tossing it somewhere onto the bed. You were left breathless at the sight of his defined biceps, sculpted chest dusted with ink, and that perfectly chiseled V-line that looked like it had been drawn by an artist obsessed with his muse and then there was the lip tattoo, now fully exposed in front of you. Niki sat properly in front of you, legs spread apart, hands resting on his thighs as he tapped his fingers lightly, fixing you with a small smirk.
"Come here, wren," he murmured.
You shifted cautiously, feeling a mix of vulnerability and nervousness, but deep down, you trusted Niki. You positioned yourself straddling him, and the physical contact was immediate, your bare thighs against the fabric of his pants, his large hands gripping your hips to pull you even closer between you.
Niki tilted his head back, watching you, and found you adorable in your hesitation, unable to meet his gaze.
"Come on, Wren… don’t be afraid. Show me what you want to do," he murmured, his voice rough. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your fingers in his messy hair, and leaned down slowly. You caught the scent of your sakura-scented body wash on his skin and chuckled before beginning to place small, chaste kisses, almost shyly, starting from the base of his jaw and working your way down to his prominent collarbone. But when you felt Niki’s hands tighten on your hips, almost begging for more pressure, your courage grew. Driven by newfound confidence, you began to suck lightly on his fair skin, alternating kisses with playful nips. Niki let out a stifled moan as his head fell back further against the headboard, his skin already flushing redder than usual. You smirked to yourself, thinking that maybe tomorrow, the other girls would notice that this guy was secretly yours.
"Fuck, Wren…" he breathed, his voice ragged. You found a sensitive spot just below his earlobe, and when you nipped at it, you felt him shiver beneath you. You smiled against his skin because you’d discovered his secret, you’d found a spot where he was weak, and you couldn’t wait to uncover what other places would make him beg and lose control.
You leaned down further, exploring his sculpted, ink-stained chest. The yellow light in the room made every muscle, every defined line from his summer of hard work stand out, and when your kisses reached his nipples, your curiosity took over. You licked one with the tip of your tongue, and Niki jolted because damn, he hadn’t expected that from you… No one had, honestly, given how "pure" you seemed in everyone’s eyes. He gently grabbed your hair, pulling just enough to force you to lift your gaze and meet his desire-clouded eyes.
"Don’t stop… please, keep going," he begged, and that plea in his usually gruff voice made you feel incredibly powerful. So you continued to tease him, alternating your tongue with deep kisses, until your hands slid down his tight abs, feeling how hard they were, like marble, under your fingertips. You paused for a moment, biting your lower lip as you admired the masterpiece of a body that looked like it had been drawn by an obsessed artist.
"You’re really beautiful, Niki," you whispered, slightly embarrassed but also aware of what you were saying to the guy in front of you. Niki’s breath caught in his throat because he was used to the easy compliments from campus girls, the empty words whispered in hallways. But hearing it from you—while you looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world—had a devastating effect on him. For the first time, he felt something unravel inside him, and he didn’t know if it was desire, love, or what he felt for you in that moment. But he didn’t mock you. Instead, he gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, looking at you softly and it was a new feeling for both of you.
"Y-You… you shouldn’t say things like that to me, Wren," he said, playing with your hair.
"Could you… lie down a little, Ki?" you asked, using the nickname that made him smile. He slid down the bed, propping himself up on his elbows to stay partially raised, desperate not to miss a single moment of what you were about to do because he was genuinely curious to see what you’d come up with. You tucked your hair behind your ears, and such a simple gesture made him swallow hard. With slightly trembling fingers, you hooked the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down a few centimeters, revealing the elastic waistband of his boxers—and right next to it, the red lip tattoo that had haunted your forbidden dreams for weeks. Niki let out a low whistle, trying to regain his usual cockiness.
"Well, well… the good girl’s aiming straight for the forbidden zone. Are you sure you can handle what you’ll find down there, Wren?"
You shot him one last challenging look before pressing your lips right over that tattoo, and the contact of your mouth with the warm skin of his lower abdomen silenced him instantly.
Niki clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the sheets, overwhelmed by the sight of you curled between his legs, kissing that intimate mark with devotion. Small shivers ran through his entire body.
You began to trace its outline with the tip of your tongue, lingering on the warm skin that pulsed with every touch, and Niki let out a beautiful moan as his back arched slightly off the mattress. You smiled against his skin because the camp’s "bad boy" was melting under your simple touch.
You moved lower, placing small, wet kisses just below his navel, brushing against the gray cotton edge of his boxers. Every movement you made, innocent on the surface but designed to drive him wild—and every time your body pressed against his thighs as you straddled him, you felt his erection grow harder, more insistent, pulsing against you.
"Fuck, Wren… you’re killing me," he cursed, his voice rough. Every time you placed small kisses right below the edge of his boxers, he couldn’t stay still because your lips always sought out his most sensitive spots, and he was reaching his limit.
"I don’t think you’re ready for a blowjob, Y/n… and if you keep this up, I’ll lose control. How about you stop teasing me and let… let me take charge? You’ve provoked me enough, little one. Earlier, you said you wanted to be kissed elsewhere… where?" he almost stammered, his voice shaking from how close he was to coming like a teenager if you kept teasing him with your movements and kisses. His hands slid down your thighs, squeezing them lightly in a possessive gesture that stole your breath.
"Look how you’re trembling… does it turn you on to know I’m the one affecting you like this? The guy you’re supposed to hate, the one you’re supposed to stay away from?"
You nodded as you sucked on the fair skin of his lower abdomen, instinctively tightening your thighs around his hips. Niki cursed again, his hand sliding up your thigh and squeezing the flesh with just enough pressure.
He gently rolled you onto your back, stretching you out on the "super-bed," and took a second to adjust his boxers before positioning himself above you, looming over you with his muscular frame. But he kept himself propped up on his forearms, careful not to crush you, and traced the edge of your lips with his thumb, his expression suddenly serious and protective.
"First of all… are you sure you want this? Sure you want me to touch you?"
"Yes," you answered, and he smiled—but it was a different kind of smile. There was no trace of teasing, no hint of the guy who loved to rile you up. Just a softness you’d never have associated with the Niki everyone described.
"I know no one’s ever touched you before, Wren. And I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything. We’ll use three colors, okay? Like a traffic light. Green if you’re good, yellow if you’re embarrassed or want to slow down, and red if you want me to stop immediately. No pressure, got it?" He caressed your cheek as he spoke, and you were struck by how this rebel without rules was now the guy trying to make you feel safe and comfortable.
"It’s perfect," you whispered. Niki leaned down and stole a soft, chaste kiss before his hands slid under the burgundy shirt you were wearing. You felt his large, rough hands against your smooth, warm skin, and it was as if they were made to fit perfectly around your hips. He began lifting the fabric centimeter by centimeter, revealing your sun-kissed stomach, and murmured:
"You’re so soft…" He leaned down to kiss your skin, alternating gentle kisses with light sucks that made you gasp, and used the tip of his tongue to tease your ribs, making you let out small, muffled moans—part pleasure, part tickle.
"Color, Y/N?" he asked against your skin.
"Green…" you stammered, burying your fingers in his blond hair and pulling him closer.
"Can I play with your breasts?" he asked hopefully, his hand already toying with the hem of your shirt. The embarrassment was off the charts, but the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious, desirable thing in the world gave you the courage to nod.
"Green," you answered, and he chuckled. "That’s my good girl."
You pushed the shirt up over your collarbones, letting the fabric bunch under your chin. When your breasts were finally free, the dim light accentuated every curve of your beautiful body. Niki’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the contrast between your Montana-tanned skin and the pale, almost crescent-moon shape where your bikini had protected you all summer.
Niki had always thought you had a gorgeous body, but he hadn’t realized how much and he ran a hand through his hair.
"Fuck, Wren…" he cursed under his breath, his eyes devouring every inch of you. "You’re… you’re stunning."
He didn’t waste time. Like a man devoted to you, he cupped your breasts with his large hands. The contrast between the softness of your skin and the roughness of his calloused palms marked from summer work and weights made you let out a deep sigh. With one hand, he began torturing your right breast, using his thumb to press and roll your hardened nipple, while his mouth descended on the left one. The heat of his tongue enveloping the sensitive tip made you arch your back, and Niki sucked hard, sending electric shocks straight to your core for the first time. Without meaning to, you pushed your hips upward, unconsciously seeking contact with his hard, pulsing length pressing against his boxers, right against your thin lace panties.
"Ah… Niki…" you panted, digging your fingers into his blond hair and pulling him closer. He responded with a moan, loving how close you were.
"Christ, how the hell did I go all summer without putting my hands on you?" he muttered as his left hand squeezed your breast a little too eagerly, his possessive grip making you gasp.
"K-Keep going… but gentler on the left, Ki… I’m really sensitive there… my period’s coming soon." You stammered, and Niki lifted his gaze, his lips glistening, as he continued teasing your clit through your panties and squeezing your breast. A playful grin spread across his face.
"Fuck, that’s why they’re so full and hard…" he murmured, then began tracing slow circles with his tongue around your areola, blowing on it between kisses, savoring your endless shivers. After what felt like forever, he moved lower, licking the underside of your breast with long, deliberate strokes of his tongue, then climbing back up to nip at the pink bud with extreme care.
While his mouth made you feel so good, his hand slid down your smooth thigh. You felt his fingers creep up centimeter by centimeter, tickling the inside of your thigh and making your legs tremble, almost closing on instinct because no one had ever touched you there before.
"Color, Wren?" he whispered against your skin.
"Green…" you managed to gasp as he chuckled softly, his fingers not stopping, they slid under the elastic edge of your panties, finding you already wet and warm. Niki let out a sound of pure approval at how excited you already were, knowing it was all because of him, and that no one else would ever have this privilege in his life.
"Fuck, Shorty… you’re already ready for me," he murmured as his middle finger began rubbing your clit through your damp panties.
Your body arched with a jolt, overwhelmed by a pleasure so intense it was almost too much to handle. To increase the pressure, Niki pushed his hips forward, grinding his hard length against your still-covered core, and you let out a loud moan that filled the room. Embarrassed, you immediately clapped your hands over your mouth to stifle the sound, but Niki stopped, grabbing your wrists and pulling them away from your face, fixing you with an almost fierce intensity.
"No, no, little one… be a good girl and let me hear everything," he said, his voice rough. "I want to hear you moan, I want to hear you scream if that’s what you need. No one can hear us, remember? There’s only the storm outside… it’s just you and me here. So please, don’t feel embarrassed if you want to moan my name...it’s beautiful."
He returned his focus to your breasts, alternating hungry licks with gentle sucks on the lower curve. When he pulled away for a second, he noticed a small purple mark beginning to form on your fair skin. He thought about how he’d love to cover you in these marks, but he knew that soon you’d be back in your swimsuit or canoeing, so he’d save that for later.
His hands slid back to your hips, gripping them tightly, while his fingers inside your panties increased their rhythm.
"Green or yellow, Wren?" he asked.
"Green… please, green," you whispered, feeling him tease the edge of your panties. Niki pulled the thin lace asidewith a slowness that drove you wild, letting the cool air of the bungalow brush against your exposed, aroused skin. When his thumb made direct contact with your clit, the world around you seemed to dissolve—you’d never felt anything like this before, and it was so good.
"Tongue or fingers, Wren?" he whispered, and your eyes widened in surprise at his bluntness.
"I… I trust you. You choose," you said, embarrassed by his question. Niki lifted himself slightly on his arms, studying your expression as he saw how you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him at first.
"Green or yellow, Y/N?" he asked, stroking your cheek. You bit your lower lip, feeling the heat spread all the way to your ears from embarrassment.
"Green… it’s just that I’ve never done anything like this before."
He nodded, and with a gentle motion, he leaned down to place a chaste, reassuring kiss on your forehead, and that touch made you melt.
"Relax. I’ll make you feel good, Wren. Whatever you say, I’ll stop instantly, okay?"
With a fluid motion, he pulled your panties off completely, tossing them somewhere unknown. When his eyes fell on your swollen, glistening intimacy, he let out a deep breath and leaned down, blowing lightly on your clit, making you jolt from the contrast. Then, he gently spread your legs, draping them over his shoulders. For the first time in your life, you were completely exposed, vulnerable under his gaze. Without another word, his warm tongue dove into your clit, and you moaned instantly—it was a strange, wet, completely new sensation, and you finally understood why all the girls said they loved foreplay with guys.
"Fuck, you taste so good…" he cursed against your skin, continuing to tease you with small, circular licks in figure-eights, alternating pressure until you arched your back against the mattress. Feeling you were ready, Niki slid a finger between your folds, and you tensed instinctively, clenching your muscles. He stopped immediately, feeling his finger fully inside you.
"Relax, little one. It’ll be okay. Let me take care of you," he murmured.
You nodded, trying to regulate your breathing, and when his finger slowly slid in centimeter by centimeter, a sense of fullness you’d never felt before flooded you.
"Fuck, you’re so tight… you’re swallowing my finger, Wren," he said as he began to move it in a rhythm that made you tremble, sliding in and out with a patience that was driving you mad—because you wanted more, but you were too shy to ask for it. But Niki understood instantly.
"Can I slide another one in?" he asked, his eyes fixed on yours as they rolled back. You nodded frenetically, unable to speak.
"Good girl… I knew deep down you were this good, that you’d like these slightly dirty things," he teased, and when his middle finger, marked by small calluses from summer work, slid in beside the other, you screamed his name.
"Niki!" Your hands flew to his hair, pulling at it for support as he began to pump with more vigor.
"Damn, Y/n… you’re taking me so well…" he cursed, savoring the sound of your moans, which grew sharper and sharper. He began to coordinate his movements: while his fingers worked inside you with decisive thrusts, his mouth returned to your clit, sucking and licking in sync with his fingers to give you even more pleasure. That double stimulation made you lose all contact with reality, and you screamed even louder, your legs trembling on his shoulders
Niki manipulated you, both mentally and physically with expert precision, slowing down just as you were about to shatter, only to watch you beg for him. His fingers pumped deeper inside you, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision, and his voice was a dark, velvety whisper against your skin.
"Look at you, Shorty. Look how well you take me… were you born to be like this under me, huh?"
Shivers raced up your spine, and an unbearable heat spread through your body. You gasped, tears pricking at your eyes from the frustration of pleasure as he continued to tease you, his fingers pumping harder inside you while his teeth grazed your clit just enough to drive you wild.
"Ki… please… I… I need to come!" you cried, your voice breaking.
But instead of giving you what you craved, he smirked that infuriating, arrogant smirk—the one you usually hated but now loved—and rather than letting you climax, he used his teeth to tease your clit while his fingers pumped even deeper, searching for that most sensitive spot inside you.
"You want to come, little one? Then take it."
He thrust his fingers harder, now that your body had adjusted to their size, with a frenetic rhythm that gave you no escape. And then—you came, screaming his name, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Niki loved how his name sounded on your lips, how one hand was fisted in his hair while the other clawed at the sheets, nearly tearing them. Your body convulsed in endless spasms, your arousal dripping down his fingers and thighs but he didn’t stop.
While you were still riding the high of your orgasm, he leaned down and licked away every trace of your pleasure, the intensity making you whimper.
"It’s too much… Niki, stop, it’s too much!" you sobbed, but he lifted his head just enough to lick you again, murmuring:
"It’s never too much for you, Wren. Look how you’re trembling… you’re pathetic and beautiful at the same time."His hand gripped you possessively, pulling you flush against him. "Do you really think I’d let you rest now, after showing you how good your body can feel?"
And that night, with only the storm’s roar breaking the silence, Niki kept his promise: he gave you no mercy, pushing you to the edge two more times until you were nothing but a trembling, whimpering mess, obsessed with his touch, your body singing his name like a prayer.
When everyone woke up at dawn on the fifth day, the Montana sky was finally a brilliant, cloudless blue, streaked only by the chirping of birds. As the bungalow doors swung open, everyone breathed in that crisp air and the scent of wet pine and fresh grass the kind everyone loved.
The general gathering in the sports pavilion was a chaos of voices and laughter from the kids, who had been cooped up in the dorms with emergency activities. They were all excited to run and bicker with each other again. You smiled as Nina came sprinting toward you and Niki, hugging you both and complaining about how boring it had been to be stuck inside 24/7 with the other kids.
Thankfully, the damage had been minimal: a few broken branches had fallen, there were piles of pine needles and dead leaves forming slippery carpets, and a couple of clotheslines had blown away.
But the real surprise, the one everyone was whispering about and that had shocked even the counselors and camp directors was Niki. He was no longer the sullen guy who ignored everyone, shooting hateful glares at anyone who dared breathe in his direction. He was… softer? He’d always been good with the kids, but now, with the other counselors, you noticed he talked, helped, even smiled without grumbling. Sure, he wasn’t suddenly a ray of sunshine, but most of all, he seemed to have a magnet pulling him constantly into your orbit.
He teased you endlessly: if you were carrying a bucket, he’d tap the back of your knee to throw you off balance, and the kids would giggle every time they saw you two bickering from morning to night. If you were talking to another counselor, he’d insert himself into the conversation even if it had nothing to do with him. Sometimes, you’d even steal the sticks he’d just picked up, only to drop them again while he gathered more from another spot. When he’d look up, you’d just shrug, but every time your eyes met, there was a secret in his gaze—the memory of those nights in the bungalow, getting to know each other, teasing, touching.
In the afternoon, while you were setting up for the bonfire you’d all agreed to have that evening—a way to finally reunite everyone—you were arranging chairs in a circle. The heat was starting to build, so you stepped behind the tool shed to find some shade and water. But before you could take three steps, a strong hand grabbed your arm, pulling you behind the shed, into the shadows of the wood and foliage. Niki leaned over you, his hands settling on your hips.
"Hey, wren," he murmured with a smug grin. You looked around in terror, afraid a kid or worse, the camp director might appear around the corner.
"Niki! What are you doing? If someone sees us...."
"I’ve been trying to get you alone all day. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this," he said, reaching out to gently tug one of your braids, watching as your face flushed a deep pink but suddenly, you felt bold. You rolled your eyes, placing your hands on his bare chest under his open shirt.
"Mmm, so the big bad boy of summer camp misses his… girlfriend?" you teased, and the words "his girlfriend"hung between you, heavy and new. Niki flinched, he’d never thought you’d actually become his girl, and he your boy. He didn’t answer right away, but his eyes lit up with a new light, and with a fluid, decisive motion, he pushed you back against the rough wooden planks of the shed, pinning you with his body.
"Shut up, Wren," he murmured, his lips a millimeter from yours.
"Who would’ve thought," you chuckled, rising onto your toes to bury your fingers in his wind-tousled blond hair. "The guy who loved keeping to himself, who was grumpy all the time… needs attention?" You teased him, and before you could finish, he leaned in and kissed you possessively.
Your arms wrapped around his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And Niki wasn’t shy: as his tongue slid between your lips, claiming you, his right hand slid down, slipping into the back pocket of your jeans with a possessive grip, squeezing your flesh and lifting you slightly against him so you could feel just how reactive he was to your touch. His other hand pressed into your side.
"Fuck, I’ve missed you… you have no idea," he growled against your mouth. You smiled against his lips, nipping lightly at his lower lip, enjoying the small shudder it pulled from him. But just as the atmosphere was about to get too heated, the sharp sound of breaking branches and the laughter of approaching kids reached you from just a few meters away. With a jolt of panic, you pushed him away, trying to compose yourself as your heart pounded too hard. Niki took a step back, chuckling as he watched you reclaim your "good girl" aura.
"We… we should go help the others," you murmured, trying to regain a professional tone. "Otherwise, they’ll get suspicious… The director already has her eye on you for how much you’ve changed these past few days."
He nodded but didn’t take his eyes off you until you glanced back at him one last time before disappearing around the corner. Niki ran a hand through his messy blond hair, making it even wilder, and stayed there for a second in the shed’s shadow.
"Fuck…" he muttered to himself, shaking his head with an incredulous smile on his face. "That girl’s gonna kill me before the end of summer."
The atmosphere at camp had become electric a mix of childlike excitement and the bittersweet melancholy of feeling autumn knocking at the door. The end-of-summer dance wasn’t just an event; it was the culmination of all those months spent under the sun—laughing, joking, playing cards, but also fighting, teasing, discovering crushes, and forging friendships under Montana’s scorching heat.
While the kitchen crew churned out endless trays of snacks and finger sandwiches, the outdoor activities team had set up chairs, tables, and colored lights woven through the willow branches by the lake, turning the gazebo into a kind of crystal chandelier with golden threads. The kids couldn’t wait to see all those lights lit up.
The weeks spent in the decoupage group had been exhilarating, you’d watched piles of card stock transform into messages of love or simple friendship, meant for their dance partners. Your heart tightened every time a child asked for your help to glue something, to draw, or to write the name of the person they liked.
That afternoon, you were leaning against the metal slide, watching the scene unfold a few meters away: Nina had asked you to go with her to Thomas, and with her perfect braids bouncing on her shoulders, she was facing her biggest challenge yet, Thomas, a perpetually grumpy-looking kid with his arms almost always crossed and his gaze usually directed elsewhere, as if a thousand thoughts were swirling in his head. For some strange reason, he reminded you terribly of Niki at the start of the summer.
You watched as Nina handed him the invitation—the one she’d worked on for hours, drawing a Formula 1 single-seaterwith the numbers of Thomas’s favorite drivers on the side. And when Thomas lowered his guard, you saw the tiniest lift at the corner of his mouth. It was a silent victory for both you and Nina. You heard Thomas ask, "Why me?"
Nina was quiet for a moment, then said, "Well, you’re the only one who doesn’t talk much but says everything with his eyes or his face… And it was nice when I scraped my knee and you took me to the infirmary, and how every day, without anyone seeing, you changed my bandages especially the pink ones with princesses. So that’s why I want you to come find me at the dance for a little while."
Nina didn’t wait for an answer. She planted a small kiss on his cheek and ran toward you, her big eyes shining.
"He’ll definitely come find me," she declared, tucking a braid behind her ear. "Wow, Nina, you really have a lot of self-confidence. Never let anyone take that away from you when you grow up, okay? Promise?" you said, squeezing her small hand in yours.
But as you started walking toward the lake, the conversation took a turn you never expected.
"Who are you going to the dance with? I hope Niki asked you to go with him," she whispered, as if revealing a state secret, skipping along beside you. Your heart pounded at her words.
"Why… why would Niki ask me to the dance, Nina?" you asked, trying to sound indifferent, but the little girl just smiled knowingly.
"Well, because he likes you, Y/n. He’s been talking about you to me all summer. And I’ll tell you a secret...these braids?" She giggled, covering her mouth as if she’d just shared something she wasn’t supposed to. "He does them for me every morning because he learned how by watching you do yours in the mirror."
You were stunned by the image of Niki: his big, calloused hands, his famous rings carefully braiding a little girl’s hair, trying to mimic your movements. Your eyes almost welled up as you thought back to all those mornings in the bungalow, when you’d felt his burning gaze on the back of your neck through the mirror as you separated the strands. You’d thought… well, you’d thought he was judging you or just waiting his turn for the bathroom. But instead, he’d been memorizing every movement so he could replicate it on Nina’s hair.
"Nina, I… I and Niki, we’re just… I mean, he always teases me, it’s not possible that...."
But Nina wasn’t done demolishing your defenses. She added, with a touch of cheeky confidence:
"And besides, he should ask you because a couple of weeks ago, I saw you kissing near the tool shed. You’re not very discreet, you know? We kids saw you holding hands, or Niki pulling you away out of nowhere… or him coming to get you every time survival class in the woods ended. Those are things boys in love do… like my dad with my mom."
Your world tilted. The phrase "We kids saw you" echoed in your head like a gong. If seven- or eight-year-olds had figured it all out if they’d seen you pressed against that shed with Niki’s lips on yours then the entire camp knew. The other counselors, the director, maybe even the kitchen staff.
You brought a hand to your face and laughed nervously as Nina pulled you along, but before you went in, she said:
"I’m glad you’re Niki’s princess and not me… I’m too little for him but if I were his age, he’d already be mine!" She burst out laughing and ran off, leaving you alone on the path, your mind spinning.
The day of the dance had finally arrived, Niki had been asking you for days now and yet, you almost wished it never would. It was the last evening you’d spend together. Tomorrow, everyone would return to Chicago, and life would go back to normal, as if nothing had changed. Sure, you and Niki both attended the same university, but what would really change between you? You shook your head. Those questions would have answers in the coming days, not tonight. Tonight was meant to be perfect.
You gave yourself one last look in the mirror: the white and red top stood out against your sun-kissed, golden skin, the result of months under the open sky. The jeans with red stars hugged your curves as if they’d been tailored for you, and the soft, deliberately messy French braid gave you a playful yet polished look. When the sakura-scented perfumefilled the air, you felt ready.
As you stepped outside, you saw Niki leaning against the table, wearing his gray and red hoodie—the one he’d given you that night—unzipped, revealing his bare chest. When his eyes landed on you, you watched him swallow hard, and you smiled at the effect you had on him.
"Fuck, Wren… you look stunning," he murmured, his voice rough, and pulled you close, burying his nose in the crook of your neck as if he wanted to memorize your scent for the months to come.
"You don’t look so bad yourself, Niki," you replied with a sly smile, playing with the strings of his hoodie. "Though a shirt would...."
"Dream on, Wren. I’ll wear a shirt only at my graduation, my wedding, or a job interview not for a dance where there’ll be more brats stuffing their faces with snacks than people actually dancing to TikTok songs." He chuckled, pulling you even closer, and you played with his hair.
"You’ll have to cut this hair when we get back to Chicago," you said.
He rolled his eyes. "Mmm, why? I like it this length. Otherwise, when your hands go through it, you won’t be able to play with it or pull it." He grinned, and your cheeks flushed red. You gave him a light swat on the chest and muttered, "Pervert." His hand tried to slip into your back pocket, but you shook your head.
"Come on, Niki, we’re already late." He sighed, but when he placed his cowboy hat on your head, his expression changed.
It wasn’t just an accessory, it was a camp tradition, a cowboy ritual. He didn’t consider himself a cowboy by any means, but seeing you in his hat, the brim casting a slight shadow over your eyes, triggered a sense of possessivenesshe’d never felt with anyone before. In that moment, Niki realized you weren’t just his date for the night—you were his girl, symbolically claimed in front of everyone. The thought that in a few hours you’d both be on the train back to the city made him want to claim every second of the evening, as if to tell the whole world that you’d still be his in Chicago, too.
"Let me see…" he murmured, adjusting the brim with his fingers, which brushed your forehead. "Now no one will have any doubts about who your 'escort' is tonight." He smirked, and you dragged him in front of the bungalow’s mirror to capture the moment.
Niki huffed, pretending to be annoyed by your need for photos, but as soon as you positioned yourself, he stepped behind you. You felt his heat at your back, and with one hand, he gently lifted your chin, forcing you to look up, while with the other, he tilted the hat to create a small, private shadow between you, partially obscuring the phone’s frame. Then, just as the flash went off, he kissed your cheek and he knew one of those photos would end up as his phone’s wallpaper.
The warm lights danced on the dark surface of the lake, creating a magical atmosphere, and the air was thick with the familiar scent of campfires burnt wood, caramel popcorn, and cotton candy sticking to the kids’ fingers as they ran around, laughing and playing.
You and Lia had taken dozens of photos that looked like they’d come straight from a 2016 Tumblr feed: posing on a hay bale, holding a slice of pizza so big it covered half your torso, laughing with your teeth clamped around the rim of a red plastic cup, always looking back at the camera with flushed cheeks. At one point, you’d even herded a group of kids into the photo booth, helping them put on giant star-shaped glasses or fake mustaches until the line was empty and just as you stepped out of the booth, still giggling from your last "diva pose" with Lia, you saw Niki’s massive figure standing in front of you, arms crossed, that crooked half-smile that annoyed you but also sent a thrill through you.
"Have you two finished monopolizing the photo booth? There are other people who’d like to take some memories home, you know," he said, looking between you and Lia. Lia, never one to back down, pulled you closer.
"Oh yeah, Niki? And who exactly would you want to take pictures with? It’s not like you’ve become best friends with anyone here in the last three months!" she teased. He rolled his eyes, but his gaze never left your flushed face.
"Lia, there’s only one person in this entire camp I’d want a photo with, and that’s your best friend. So scram, please."
Lia grinned knowingly when she heard that, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. "Damn, this guy finally marked his territory. Thank God for that storm… you two were exhausting to watch—24/7 of teasing with zero payoff! Even the best K-dramas don’t have that much slow burn!" But before she disappeared into the crowd, she winked at you and mimed a "go for it" gesture with her fingers, reminding you of the pact you’d made: no thoughts for tomorrow just live in the present.
Niki took your hand, his warm fingers intertwining perfectly with yours, and nodded toward the photo booth entrance. The tiny plastic cubicle was clearly designed for kids, not a guy who was nearly six-foot-three. Niki went in first, muttering under his breath as his head nearly hit the ceiling. He sat on the swivel stool, leaving barely any room for you. As you hesitantly tried to perch on the edge of the seat, he grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap.
"Sit here," he ordered, patting his thighs. You hesitated, and he huffed against your skin.
"Come on, Shorty, stop pretending to be some innocent girl. You’ve sat on these legs in way less chaste ways than this, and we both know it." He chuckled, and your cheeks burned as he settled you sideways on his knees. One hand slid up your bare leg, squeezing lightly, while the other rested on your exposed side, his thumb tracing hypnotic circleson your skin.
"Pick the filter, Shorty, but do it for two strips—one’s mine, and the other’s yours," he said. You nodded, not realizing that even choosing a filter would turn into a playful fight.
"Let’s do the one with the little stars! It’s cute!" you suggested, pressing the option.
"Stars? Wren, I have a reputation to uphold. We’re not middle schoolers—go with the black minimalist one," he argued, trying to nudge your finger away from the screen.
"Your reputation died the day you learned how to braid Nina’s hair. Deal with it!" you teased, and after two minutes of bickering and playful shoves, you settled on the most basic option: a vertical filmstrip border with four shots, ten seconds apart.
First photo: The countdown started, and you exchanged an amused glance, bursting into spontaneous, slightly shy laughter as you looked at each other, Niki holding you tight, you trying not to fall off the stool.
Second photo:
You turned and kissed his cheek, and Niki rolled his eyes with a fake indifferent expression as if your kiss on his face(not even his lips!) didn’t affect him. But the way his hand tightened on your side told a different story.
Third photo:
The mood had shifted. Niki gently moved your French braid aside, exposing your neck, and you locked eyes intensely. There was nothing shy about your faces now—close, hungry, his gaze full of possession, as if he wanted to make it clear that he was all you’d ever need.
Fourth photo:
Just as the flash went off for the last time, Niki closed the distance, capturing your lips in a real, deep, possessive kiss just like him. He loved making it clear to everyone that you were his, and the photo captured it perfectly: you with your eyes closed, his hands pulling you even closer, his cowboy hat tilted slightly backward.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, now knowing he was your safe harbor, your fingers sinking into his messy blond hair at the nape of his neck. The photo booth felt even smaller with how close you were, and Niki didn’t waste a second. His hands settled firmly on your hips, his thumbs tracing small designs on the bare skin exposed by the cut of your top.
When your lips parted in a soft moan, he took it as an invitation, and his tongue slid into your mouth, claiming you. You let out a vibrant sound, and if anyone had been outside, they would’ve heard it but honestly, you didn’t care anymore. In that moment, there was only you two, lost in a mix of submission and longing that made Niki’s muscles tense as he felt you so close. You tried to shift, seeking even more intimate contact between your bodies, but he held you firmly in place, his grip on your hips pinning you to his lap, as if to say he was the one setting the pace—even in there.
When the photo strip finally slid out, the mechanical sound of the machine seemed to bring you back to reality. Niki snatched it quickly, almost fearful that someone else might see it. You both fell silent, staring at that last shot, the kiss captured by the flash was real, unfiltered. It looked so authentic that maybe, in that moment, Niki realized he’d found his person and he’d never expected it to be you.
"Fuck," he whispered against your lips, and you caressed the slightly rough skin of his jaw, where the stubble was just starting to grow. You bit your lip, still tasting him, and felt a flicker of anxiety creeping in because in a few hours, everything might change.
"Do… do you want to stay at the party, or go back to the bungalow?" you murmured, lowering your gaze and starting to nervously twist the end of your braid between your fingers. Niki watched you in silence. He knew, he could read every tic, every hesitation in you. He knew you were feeling uncertain, and he lifted your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look into his eyes darker than ever under the neon lights of the booth.
"Why do you want to go back to the bungalow? Aren’t you having fun out here, wren? You’ve been excited about this party for weeks, and now you want to leave already?"
"Everything’s perfect out here," you started, trying to find the right words, not wanting to seem embarrassed by what you were about to say. "But I… I’d like to spend the last night alone. I mean… completely alone. In our bungalow and we could… I don’t know…" You gestured between the two of you, and Niki lifted your chin with his finger, forcing you to meet his gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. He silenced you, pressing a finger to your lips.
"You’re overthinking, Wren. Tell me what you really want… no beating around the bush." He watched you with eyes that were almost glossy with a new determination, mixed with shyness? But Niki wanted to hear you say it.
"I want you to be mine tonight… and me to be yours," you said, starting to nervously fidget with one of the silver rings on his finger. After dropping that bomb, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid he might push you awayor mock you but Niki visibly swallowed, not expecting such a blunt answer from you, it wasn’t like you at all. For a moment, the Niki from the start of summer disappeared, replaced by a guy who looked almost dazed by the luck of having met you.
"Are… are you sure, Y/n?" he asked, his voice almost timid, which made you slightly doubt the guy in front of you. "You know that if we cross that threshold tonight… there’s no going back."
You nodded firmly, intertwining your hand with his, taking the initiative to stand up. Niki sighed deeply, running his other hand through his hair in a gesture of pure agitation because in that moment, he didn’t know if he should feel like the luckiest guy on the planet or the most terrified at the idea of not being worthy of your first time, of not being gentle enough or unforgettable enough for you. He was afraid of ruining everything you’d built over those summer months.
"Are you 100% sure, Wren?" His voice was rough as he hovered over you, his forearm muscles tense from the effort of not pressing too hard against your body.
You rolled your eyes with fake exasperation at his question. "Green, lime green, Tiffany green…" you listed, naming every shade you could think of, and Niki shook his head with a crooked smile.
"You’re such a little brat, you know that?" he murmured, pulling you in for a quick kiss before his hands slid decisively toward your hips. When the button of your jeans popped open and the zipper slid down, the atmosphere in the room shifted drastically.
Niki pulled off your jeans, never taking his eyes off you. And when his gaze fell on the red lace of your semi-thong, his breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out—he was completely thrown off by your lingerie. He ran a hand through his blond hair, messing it up even more, thinking about how innocent you must’ve seemed to everyone at camp… but not to him. Not after discovering what you read, what you wore to drive him wild. When he heard your voice, he snapped back to reality.
"Do you like it?" you whispered, enjoying his shock with a fake innocent look. Niki let out a sound that was half groan, half choked laugh.
"I didn’t think the 'good girl' of summer camp was hiding these kinds of secrets under her clothes. I knew about all those romance books you try to hide from me… but this, Y/N!"
His hand slid down your inner thigh, and the cold silver of his ring against your burning skin made you jolt violently. You wanted to tease him, drive him crazy.
"There’s a lot you still don’t know about me, Niki…" you stammered, trying to keep a shred of composure. He closed his eyes for a second—he’d figured out the game you were playing.
"And what would those be?" he challenged.
"Let’s find out together, shall we?" you replied.
Niki shifted, kneeling between your legs with a slowness that was pure torture. He grabbed your ankle and brought it almost to his face, then began kissing your skin, starting from your ankle, moving up your calf to the curve of your knee. Every kiss was almost torture for you because he was doing it on purpose, going so slow. Each touch was like a brand, alternating kisses with light sucks, and when he reached your thigh, his kisses became deeper, more insistent, leaving a tingling sensation that spread through your entire body.
When he buried his face in the inside of your thigh, the heat of his hot breath made you arch your back.
"Niki… stop teasing me," you pleaded.
But he didn’t listen. His kisses alternated with playful nips on the tenderest part of your thigh, followed by slow licksthat made you lose all sense of direction.
"Higher…" you whispered without thinking, and Niki froze, lifting his gaze to you with a serious look.
"Since when do you get to give me orders, Wren?" he asked, kissing you just one centimeter higher, driving you mad—because that was his intent. From the first moment he’d seen you, he’d wanted to get inside your head, and he was succeeding.
"Please… Niki, don’t make me wait like this, you’re driving me crazy…" you stammered, your hands clawing at the sheets to keep from grabbing him directly. He chuckled, satisfied with his effect on you, and lifted your leg even higher. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed your clit hard through the thin veil of black lace, laughing softly.
"Damn it…" you cursed through your teeth, arching your back and digging your fingers into his hair, not knowing if you wanted to pull him deeper or push him away because you didn’t even know yourself. It was definitely calculated torture, what he was doing to you, and you responded by squirming beneath him.
"You’re a bastard, take this off and touch me for real!"
But Niki didn’t care about your urgency. He wanted to hear you beg, wanted to see how far your resistance would go before he made you completely his. So he let go of your leg but didn’t return to loom over you with his full weight. Instead, he crawled up your body with the same slowness as a predator, leaving a trail of fire with his kisses. He started at the elastic edge of your lace, then your navel, moving up your stomach where your muscles twitched involuntarily at every touch of his tongue. When he reached your breasts, he paused to admire them in the dim light, as if he hadn’t already memorized every inch of you, while your uneven, pleading breaths lift
He leaned down with surgical precision, capturing your hardened nipple between his lips. The contrast was delicious and intoxicating you’d never felt anything like it before. The wet heat of his mouth against your skin, and his cold, silver-ringed hand sliding up to squeeze and tease your other breast, made you even more pliable under his touch. You moaned his name a sound Niki loved hearing from your lips as your fingers tightened in his blond hair, pulling him deeper.
He sensed your impatience and chuckled right against your sensitive skin, making your chest vibrate. Then he dragged his teeth over the tip of your nipple before blowing a cool breath over it, making you jolt violently. But you had no intention of just lying there. You wanted him to feel the same burning need you were feeling. So you hooked your legs around his hips, pulling him into your personal space, and began moving your hips instinctively, grinding your lace-covered intimacy against the hard, unmistakable bulge of his jeans.
Niki froze for a second, caught off guard. But when he realized your movements weren’t accidental—that you were deliberately seeking friction against his length, trying to drive him wild—he stiffened.
"Fuck, Wren… stop moving like that if you don’t want me to lose control before I even take my clothes off," he growled, his voice low. But you didn’t stop. If anything, you pushed harder, chasing that heat that seemed like the only thing capable of extinguishing the fire inside you. And when he finally matched your rhythm, pushing back against you in a synchronized motion, a simultaneous moan escaped both your lips.
"Please…" you whispered, almost without realizing it. Niki lifted himself a few centimeters, surprised to hear you begging him for something.
"What are you begging for, Wren? A month ago, you couldn’t even stand to breathe the same air as me in this room. And now? What are you begging for?" he asked, challenging you with his gaze. But you looked back at him, unafraid to show just how much you wanted him.
"You couldn’t stand me as a roommate either, and yet here you are, worshipping my body like it’s your only religion. So stop talking, Niki, because we’ve teased each other all summer, and I think it’s time to let all this electricity explode—the kind everyone saw except us."
After your answer, Niki didn’t waste another second. With a fluid motion, he grabbed the edges of your thong, his patience was completely gone. He pulled your panties off in one sharp motion, letting them slide down your legs and leaving you completely bare beneath him. When his gaze fell on your glistening, swollen intimacy, a victorious grinspread across his face. He felt like a king—the first to see you like this, the first to possess your vulnerability. And he knew the mark he’d leave on you tonight would be indelible, because only he would have you like this.
"Where’s the girl who was talking too much a minute ago?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched you look away in embarrassment.
"She’s still here, Niki… don’t count your chickens just yet," you shot back, trying to reclaim a shred of dignity as you spread your legs for him. That gesture drove him wild with desire. He grabbed your thighs and hoisted them onto his shoulders, leaving you completely exposed and at his mercy. Then he leaned in, and his hot tongue flicked against your clit in one swift motion. You moaned at the sensation of his tongue against your core.
"God, Wren… are you still this sensitive?" he chuckled against your skin, feeling how you trembled. "It’s not the first time tonight—you should be used to my mouth by now."
"Just… just shut up!" you cursed, but his only response was to intertwine his hand with yours, pressing it firmly against the mattress. That gesture...so intimate and protective in the middle of all this lust made your heart beat harder than anything else, because Niki could act like a jerk, but when it came to you, he became almost someone else.
His other hand held your hip in place while his tongue began to work in perfect figure-eights, pressing insistently on the tip of your clit.
"I need to prepare you, Wren," he murmured between kisses against your folds. "If you want me to slide my cock inside you without hurting you, you need to be ready to take me."
You nodded frantically, unable to form coherent sentences. And when you felt his index finger tease your entrance, coating itself in your arousal before pushing in slowly, you felt so good, yet so protected by him because in that moment, you were trusting each other completely.
"Look how well you take this… and it’s just one finger. Yet here you are, already begging for more with those moans of yours, huh? You’re just a spoiled little girl who’s discovered how good it feels to be ruined by me." He smirked, and you moaned loudly as he began pumping his finger inside you, filling you in a way that made you feel complete yet starving for more and when he decided you could handle it, he slid his middle finger in as well.
The impact was shocking, you felt the cold edge of his silver ring against the hot, sensitive flesh of your lips, and you screamed, arching your back and clenching your legs around his face, swallowing his fingers up to the knuckle. The contrast between the icy metal and the fire inside you made you lose your mind.
"Niki… oh God, the ring… it’s… it’s too much," you stammered but Niki looked up at you from below, his lips glistening with your arousal, and pushed harder, coordinating the movement of his fingers with his tongue, which continued to torment your clit. When you started to cry from the intensity of pleasure, he froze for a second, doubting if he’d hurt you but then he heard your words.
"I’m… I’m about to come… Niki, please, don’t stop!"
He relaxed, and a predatory smile lit up his face. "Fuck, it’s so hot watching you cry while you beg me to make you come." He curved his fingers inside you, and you, overwhelmed by the double stimulation, pulled his hair with desperate force, clawing at the sheets with your other hand as the climax swept over you. The final contrast, his tongue, his fingers, and that cold metal made you explode against his mouth in a violent orgasm that left you trembling and spent, coming against both his mouth and his fingers.
"Fuck… that’s my good girl," Niki murmured.
When Niki pulled away from you, you swallowed hard. He leaned in again to give you a soft, lingering kiss, charged with the weight of what you were about to do, and asked:
"Are you 100% sure about this?" His voice was low, his fingers stroking your hair. You stayed silent for a moment, and those few seconds of hesitation felt like an eternity to Niki. But then you found the words, and he relaxed.
"Right now, there are no red lights, Niki. No orange warnings either," you whispered, echoing what he had taught you the first time he’d seen you naked and touched you.
"For me, everything is completely green right now… I… I want… I want to be yours." Your voice trembled, tears pricking at your eyes. Niki reached out, caressing your cheek with his thumb. His eyes were glistening too, and a crooked, moved smile lit up his face.
"I want to be yours too, Wren. Today, tomorrow, for the weeks to come, for the next months… and who knows how much longer."
With fingers still slightly trembling, you brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "Niki… are you, by any chance, declaring yourself?"
He huffed with a half-embarrassed smile that tinted his cheeks a soft pink. "Fuck, you… you’ve made me soft too many times these past weeks, especially right now," he admitted, shaking his head, almost incredulous at the power you had over him.
"So… is it green for you too?" you asked, watching him closely. Niki’s eyes widened—he hadn’t expected you to ask for his confirmation too, but it was a mutual respect you’d found in each other. Then he smiled softly.
"Lime green, Tiffany green… I don’t even remember how many other kinds of green there are… but yes, it’s super green right now."
Your hands slid downward, meeting the buckle of his belt. With a determined but clumsy motion, you unclasped it, letting it fall somewhere on the floor. Niki didn’t waste time—he shimmied out of his jeans in quick movements, tossing them aside. When he leaned over you again, the contact between his erection, still covered by the thin fabric of his boxers, and your already sensitive, pulsing intimacy wrung a muffled moan from both of you.
"Take them off yourself, Y/N," he murmured. With fingers that refused to stay still, you played with the waistband of his boxers, sliding your hands up his hips before pulling them down. And when your eyes finally met his full nudity, his rosy, tense shaft already glistening with pre-cum, your pupils dilated with a mix of shock and desire at how big and thick he was. Niki closed his eyes, groaning.
"This… well, this is what you do to me, Y/N."
"Is that… a good thing?" you asked in a whisper, almost seeking confirmation of the power you felt over him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, chuckling softly.
"Yeah, it’s a great thing, Wren. Except when we’re in public and I can’t do anything about it."
Without asking for permission, you reached out and touched him, wrapping your hand around his hot, taut skin. You felt his breath catch instantly.
"I… there’ll be other opportunities where you can tease me like this… or where you can be on top of me," he stammered, trying to keep control as his muscles tensed under your touch. "But fuck, Y/N, if I’m not inside you in the next few minutes, I’m gonna come like some inexperienced kid. And I want your first time to be perfect." He almost laughed, and you nodded.
You watched as he reached toward the nightstand and grabbed a silver square—a condom. "Don’t think the worst, it’s not mine," he said immediately, as if he needed to justify himself to avoid seeming presumptuous. "I asked someone I trust for it earlier and don’t think I planned this, or that I took you for granted...."
But you gently placed a hand over his lips, silencing him. You wanted him to know that his thoughtfulness meant more than he realized.
"Shut up, Niki. You’ve never pressured me into anything. In fact, I appreciate that you thought about protection. I’m not on the pill, and I want to do this safely."
He nodded, visibly relieved, and with expert but quick fingers, he tore open the condom. You, driven by curiosity, tried to help, but he gently shook his head, stopping your hands.
"Next time, I’ll teach you how, I promise… but we only have one, and I need to feel you as mine so badly that I can’t risk messing this up." His voice was urgent as he positioned himself above you.
Niki positioned himself with painstaking slowness between your legs, lifting your hips slightly with a pillow to ease the union. His eyes never left yours, searching for that final silent "yes." When you nodded, he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep kiss as his hips pushed gently against your entrance.
Feeling the tip of his cock tease your sensitivity wrung a moan of pure desire from you.
"I’ll stop immediately if it hurts, Y/N. Don’t be afraid or embarrassed to tell me, okay?" he whispered, his concern melting your heart—you’d never have imagined the guy you met over three months ago could be this tender with you.
"Please… I want to be yours," you breathed, your voice ragged. Niki didn’t need to be told twice. With a slow, controlled thrust, he slid inside you, and you both moaned in unison—him from the heat enveloping him, you from the unfamiliar fullness you’d never felt before.
"Fuck… you’re so tight, it’s driving me crazy," he groaned through clenched teeth, feeling how snugly you clenched around him.
"It’s… it’s so big, Niki," you whispered, eyes wide. He looked at you with a mix of pride and worry, kissing the tip of your nose.
"I’m sorry, little one… I’ll try to be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re gripping me so tight it’s hard to stay still."
He paused for a few moments inside you, letting your body adjust to his size. You could feel every millimeter of him, and soon, driven by an irresistible instinct, you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer. Niki cursed again:
"God, Y/N… you’re making it impossible to keep any self-control." He tried not to hurt you, but you begged:
"You can move… please, move."
Niki pulled back slightly, then, without warning, pushed in almost fully, and you clung to his shoulder as you felt the walls of your vagina stretch to accommodate him completely. It burned—it was an intense stretch but the sensation of finally being "filled" by him overpowered any pain your body had ever felt.
When he felt you slowly relax, he began to move, first with caution, then with growing fervor. His shaft slid perfectly inside you, lubricated by your own desire, and with every deep thrust, the sound of your bodies colliding and your moans filled the room.
Your hands sought his hair, pulling him closer as your nails left red marks on his bare back every time he took you harder. Niki nipped at your neck a possessive gesture that made you lose your mind.
"Please, Niki! Don’t… don’t stop," you pleaded, now lost in pleasure, feeling how warmly you welcomed him, how your legs clenched around him. Niki decided to change the angle and shifted slightly on the bed, rolling you onto your side.
"Niki, where are you going? What are you doing?" you stammered, eyes glazed, your breath ragged with a mix of lust and panic.
"Trust me, Wren… I’ll make you feel good," he replied with a knowing smile. Niki slid one arm under your back, pulling you even closer, while his other hand grabbed your thigh, lifting it decisively over his hip. In that position, the angle changed drastically—his cock slid even deeper, reaching spots you didn’t even know were so sensitive. You felt his shaft press with surgical precision against your G-spot, and the pleasure was so sharp that you buried your face against his neck, biting his hot skin to keep from screaming too loudly—afraid someone might hear.
"More, Niki… more, please!" you begged between moans, your nails digging into his shoulders. He didn’t need to be asked twice. Feeling how completely at his mercy you were, he intensified his thrusts: he began alternating short strokes, making you feel only the tip entering and exiting, tormenting your pussy, before plunging deep and powerful, stealing your breath. He felt like he was in heaven as your vagina clenched around him divinely, as if it had been made just for him. But it wasn’t enough—while he continued to claim you, he slid his free hand between your bodies and began stimulating your clit with his thumb.
"Niki… fuck, it’s too much! I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come!" you cried, arching your back as the pleasure became almost unbearable from how divinely his cock slid inside you. He began whispering dirty, sweet words to make you lose all control.
"It’s not too much, Wren. It’s exactly what you deserve. Look at me while you come for me… look how beautiful you are while I take you like this." He lifted your chin, and you wrapped your other leg around his hip, erasing every millimeter of space between you.
"You’re so good, my little Wren… look how well you take all of me, look how you tremble for me."
You nodded, completely overwhelmed, until a second violent orgasm swept over you for the second time that night. The muscles of your vagina contracted rhythmically around him, milking him, and Niki groaned loudly, thrusting even deeper.
"That’s my good girl," he whispered, kissing you fiercely. You thought he was done, that your climax marked the end, but Niki hadn’t released his tension yet. With renewed fervor, he began fucking you again in that position, and the sound of his cock slamming into your pussy was the only thing filling the room, along with your breaths and moans. Then, suddenly, Niki’s muscles tensed he was coming too.
"Fuck, Y/N… I’m about to… I’m coming too," he stammered, eyes wide. You burst into tears at how stimulating it was to see him come, and as you felt Niki unload all his cum in hot spurts inside the condom, he stayed inside you for minutes, still, his chest rising and falling frantically. It was beautiful to still feel him inside, to feel his heat slowly calming, and he began stroking your entire body with infinite tenderness as you snuggled against his chest as if it were your only refuge.
"It was… it was beautiful," you whispered softly. Niki lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on your sweat-dampened forehead. "Was it too much? Did I hurt you?" he asked, a hint of concern in his eyes. But you shook your head.
"It was unreal," you replied, making him smile in relief.
"I’m glad your first time was with me, Wren. And that you trusted me… even though I know I don’t exactly have a spotless reputation," he admitted, with a touch of melancholy that vanished as soon as you pulled him into a tighter embrace. With extreme slowness, he pulled out of you with a sigh, and you watched as he got up gracefully, removing the condom and tossing it in the trash before lying back down beside you, pulling you back into his arms.
The only sounds in the room were the rhythm of your breaths slowly returning to normal and, in the background, the muffled beat of the music still playing outside the summer camp. Niki lay beside you, his arm pressed against yours, and you could feel the cold metal of his rings absentmindedly playing with your fingers a nervous gesture that betrayed how shaken he still was.
When you lifted your gaze, you realized he hadn’t stopped staring at you, his expression unreadable. Curious as you were, you wanted to know what was going through his mind.
"Do… do I have something on my face?" you asked softly, suddenly feeling naked under his intense gaze. Niki shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.
"What’s on your mind?" you asked, stroking his cheek with your thumb. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the touch he loved so much, and said:
"I have so many things running through my head right now that I don’t even know how to act with you in this moment… I feel… strange, but in a good way."
You nodded and whispered, trying to reassure him: "You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, Niki."
"What we just did was beautiful… I hope you know how much I trust you… and I hope that, despite my lack of experience, it was special for you too." You said it, fearing for a second that you might have been "not enough" for him because you knew he’d had more experience. At those words, Niki seemed to snap out of it and turned fully toward you, hovering over your body without crushing you, and wrapped you in a protective embrace, burying his face against your neck as if afraid of being discovered or maybe just afraid of the new reality you both found yourselves in for the first time.
"Don’t joke around, fuck… it was amazing from start to finish. I’d do it with you forever… don’t think or compare yourself to anyone else," he murmured, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin.
"Wren, I can’t keep pretending to be detached anymore… I… I… I like you so damn much." He said it against your neck, but he was seriously afraid of sounding like a fool in that moment. You chuckled softly, stroking his sweaty hair.
"I like you too, Niki. I think even the walls of this bungalow have figured it out by now." You said, and he lifted himself onto his arms, looking at you with almost frustration.
"No, fuck, that’s not what I wanted to say! It’s not just 'I like you.' It’s just that I… I…"
Seeing his struggle, you gently placed a hand over his lips, stopping the internal conflict you could read on his face, and said naturally: "I love you, Niki."
Niki’s eyes widened, and he froze, as if you’d just thrown down a challenge with those words. The silence lasted a second too long, and you seriously feared he wouldn’t say it back or would pull away from you. But then he scoffed loudly, letting his head fall back.
"Damn it! I was supposed to say it first, Y/N! You beat me to it!" he exclaimed, visibly annoyed with himself. You shrugged with a sly little smile.
"Well, you could’ve been faster." You teased, laughing, and he replied:
"I love you too, Wren. In case it wasn’t obvious from the way I look at you or from how I’m currently trying not to look like an idiot." He said it as he couldn’t stop touching you, a new light shining in his eyes. You pulled him back to you, enjoying the warmth of his chest against yours.
"I’m happy to hear you say it. It was a little embarrassing watching you suffer so much trying to spit out those two words!"
He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop smiling. "Oh yeah, very funny. I’ll get my revenge, just you wait."
And he started kissing you everywhere—your chin, your cheeks, the tip of your nose—whispering "I love you" every time his lips touched your skin, as if it were now easier to say it spontaneously.
"I’m really glad they put us in the same room together," he finally said, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling you in for a serious kiss. "It was the best thing that could’ve happened to us."
"Definitely," you replied, laughing in his arms, finally feeling completely at home.
*synopsis: Montana is the state where the most beautiful summer camps of all are held, every year hundreds of children couldn't wait to spend three months away from their families to stay at a summer camp cooking marshmallows, hiking the various nature trails, and swimming in the campus's natural pools. You too had been through all these experiences from your 10s until you were 15 and now that you were of age you would have become an entertainer but you hadn't counted on something that would be on summer campus too Niki, Niki was the classic “bad boy” of the town with all the girls at his feet and with petty crimes caused as a ‘joke’. But what if Niki had to be sent to work as an entertainer on summer campus for “punishment” and you, the classic good girl with zero experience in boys, had to share a room with him? A disaster from day one you can't get along with him but between bonfires with marshmallows, dives in ice water and confessions under the stars maybe the idea of spending 3 months on summer campus with Niki wasn't so bad
*word count: 34k
*tags: At first Y/n and Niki can't stand each other, they love teasing each other, first kiss (many kisses) fluffy, Niki may seem a little bit of an asshole but then becomes obsessed but in a good way with Y/n, masturbation, discovery of spicy books, loss of virginity (protected sex) there will be misunderstandings, jealousy, +18, tattoo kisses, love statement, pet names (good girl, wren)
The sky above Camp Montana was a blue so deep it almost looked unreal, the mountains in the distance veiled by a soft haze. The chirping of birds lulled you into relaxation, while the gentle lapping of waves against the shore in front of the common room’s porch gave the place an air of tranquility, though in just a few hours, it would transform into a bustling summer camp, teeming with kids eager to find their cabins and meet the friends who would share the secrets of a summer unlike any other.
Camp Montana was one of the most famous summer camps in the stat and beyond with hundreds of kids signing up months in advance for an unforgettable experience. As a child, you were one of them: not just another little girl with dirt-streaked braids and scraped knees, but now, an animator. You wore the iconic red Camp Montana hoodie, the eagle emblem emblazoned on the chest, your name stitched beside it. Your jeans bore the camp’s logo, and you carried all the gear and perks that came with the role, everything you’d dreamed of as a kid.
Back then, this place was pure magic. You’d spend nights by the campfire under a sky full of stars, sticky fingers wrapped around half-burnt marshmallows. You’d race through the woods with your friends, laughter echoing across the lake as you leaped from inflatables into the water. It was the place where you dreamed of growing up, of wearing that hoodie, of being loved by the kids just like your favorite animators—women you still remembered fondly.
But now? Now, Camp Montana was different. Now, there were responsibilities of every kind: comforting homesick children, reassuring worried parents over the phone, pulling night shifts to make sure no one snuck out of the cabins. There were judgmental glances from the other animators, whispers, and gossip slithering between the bungalows. You’d expected a peaceful summer, but life had other plans. Maybe fate was playing a cruel trick on you—or perhaps, the most beautiful one of your life.
The common room at Camp Montana was a massive wooden space, its walls covered in faded photos of summers past, some of them featuring you, with your childhood braids and braces. Colorful flags hung from the ceiling, each one signed with the names of past animators. The air was thick with the scent of coffee, freshly baked butter cookies, and burning wood. On one side, there were industrial kitchens and long tables where chaotic, noisy meals were served every day. On the other hand, a small loft where the camp president—a man in his sixties with a stern, gray-bearded face—was outlining the rules on a flip chart, rules that would govern the next three months, especially the ones animators were forbidden to break.
Lia, one of your closest friends: someone you’d spent countless summers with at camp, sat beside you, legs crossed, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she read aloud the "Forbidden Things for Camp Animators" written in bold red on the board:
FORBIDDEN THINGS FOR CAMP ANIMATORS:
Swimming in the lake after 10:00 PM (seriously dangerous without a lifeguard on duty).
Alcohol or drugs (zero tolerance anyone caught using drugs will be expelled immediately).
Outside guests (no bringing in boyfriends/girlfriends).
Smoking in common areas (there are two designated smoking zones—check the camp maps).
Public arguments (keep your drama private, not in front of the kids).
Abandoning your shift (if you’re on duty, you stay on duty until your shift ends).
Bringing weapons (this is a summer camp—parents expect their kids to be safe).
Damaging nature (we’re here to teach kids to respect the environment—no cutting trees, littering, etc.).
You studied the rules carefully. Most of them were reasonable, but Lia didn’t seem to agree.
"Listen to this, Y/n," she whispered, pointing at the first rule. "‘No swimming in the lake after 10:00 PM.’ Pfft! We all did it! Remember when we used to sneak out at night and dive in, then run back screaming like maniacs?" She giggled, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing. Yes, even though you’d always been seen as the "good girl," the studious one, you’d had your share of rebellious moments at 16 or 17—moments you now carried in your heart.
"Yeah, but we’re animators now, Lia," you reminded her, nudging her gently. "We’re here to work, have fun, and most importantly set a good example for the kids."
Lia rolled her eyes. "Oh, please! Give it a week, and 99% of us will have broken every single rule. Look around—half these people are just here to escape their parents, hook up in the bungalows, and have a summer they’ll tell their future kids about in a few years."
Before you could respond, the door to the common room swung open. It couldn’t be the kids, they weren’t arriving yet. Instead, what you saw—what everyone saw—was a head of bleached-blond hair with dark roots, broad shoulders, and a towering height of at least 1.95 meters. His expressive eyes and lips were the kind every girl in the room would dream of kissing. Niki—because that’s who it was—ducked slightly to fit through the doorway, as if even the entrance had to adjust for him. He walked toward the group of animators with an arrogant confidence that sent shivers down spines, and every girl in the room gasped:
"Oh my God..."
"Is that....?"
"It can’t be him."
You turned away sharply, trying not to look, but Lia’s eyes widened, and she elbowed you. "What the hell is Niki doing here?!" she hissed, her voice a mix of shock and excitement. "Wasn’t he supposed to be doing community service for that mess with the stolen cars? Everyone knows he organized those illegal races during the Cowboy Festival!"
You shrugged, feigning indifference, even though your heart was pounding. Unfortunately, you knew Niki. You’d grown up in the same small town, gone to the same university, you studied child psychology while he leaned into the arts, photography, and drawing.
I have no idea," you muttered, biting your nail. "But one thing’s for sure: that guy is a walking disaster. He can’t be an animator here with all these kid —he’s a ticking time bomb."
Niki sat down two rows ahead of you, crossing his long legs with effortless nonchalance. You clenched your fists as he tilted his head slightly, his signature cowboy hat—now in a "baggy style"—shadowing his face. The president glared at him with open disdain, clearly afraid Niki would bring trouble to this little slice of paradise.
The president clapped his hands loudly and cleared his throat into the microphone. "Alright, now that all our camp animators have graced us with their presence, we can begin!" His voice was sharp, dripping with sarcasm. "As you know, every year, we pair you up for teams and bungalows. Each bungalow has two single beds, a small reading area, a mini kitchen, a bathroom, and a porch with a hammock. Some overlook the lake, others the mountains, and some are near the kids’ cabins. The pairs are mixed—it’s been a tradition for years, and we’ve never had issues with boys and girls sharing. You’re all adults and responsible, so I trust you’ll have a great time with your new roommate. Now, let’s announce the pairs!"
You glanced at Lia, who rested her head on your shoulder and smirked. "I’d bet anything we’re rooming together, but we both know that’s not happening." You nodded, already resigned. A murmur spread through the room.
"I’d pay gold to be paired with Niki!" a red-haired girl shrieked. "I want Keeho!" another yelled, eyeing the guy sitting next to Niki. "Joshua’s mine!" another chimed in, her English flawless.
You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever chaos was about to unfold.
The camp president scrolled through countless slides on the interactive whiteboard, and with each new slide, your stomach twisted tighter. For what felt like an eternity, your name and photo refused to appear. As anxiety clawed at you—like it always did—you started gnawing at the nail of your index finger, eyes locked on the screen. It was as if the blank slide delighted in torturing you, flashing one animator pairing after another, but never yours.
Then, your name blared through the speakers, just a little too loud.
"Y/n will be paired with Niki for the next three months in Bungalow 20," the president announced, his gaze almost pitying as it landed on you.
You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. There, on the screen, was your photo—smiling, the picture of the "girl next door"—paired with Niki’s. If you’d had a permanent marker, you would’ve drawn giant horns on his head and a ridiculous mustache over that smirking mouth of his. It was a low blow, no, a cruel joke from fate. The president must’ve had a twisted sense of humor, or maybe he was just a sadist, delighted at the thought of turning your summer into the worst one of your life.
Lia, your so-called best friend 'the traitor' started patting your head sympathetically, but it didn’t take long for her to dissolve into giggles.
"Well, look on the bright side," she whispered, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "If you survive three months living with him, your psychology thesis will write itself. Either that, or you’ll end up in the news as an accomplice in some illegal drift racing scandal. Either way, Y/n, you’ll be legendary."
You shot her a glare and buried your face in your hands, feeling your ears burn. "I hate you," you mumbled. "This is a nightmare. He’s literally the one person in all of Montana I wouldn’t even want to share an elevator with, let alone a bungalow for three months."
With that, you bolted up, grabbed your things, and stormed out, avoiding everyone’s eyes—especially his. You could feelNiki two rows ahead, smirking, that infuriating grin plastered on his face. You lugged your bags with a strength you didn’t know you had, marching toward the upper part of the camp until you reached Bungalow 19… and then, Bungalow 20.
And Bungalow 20 was objectively perfect.
If it weren’t for your soon-to-be roommate, you might’ve cried with joy. The bungalow sat on a small hill, its wooden porch complete with a hammock big enough for more than two people. The view of the lake was straight out of a National Geographic postcard, and the mountain ridges stretched across the horizon. You pouted at how beautiful Montana could be, then dragged your suitcase—heavy as if you’d packed a corpse inside up the steps and threw open the door to your new home.
The interior was cozy, with a scent of vanilla. On the table, two shiny new badges gleamed in the afternoon light, beside a basket of warm butter-vanilla cookies a welcome gift from the camp kitchen. Next to it, a letter with the camp’s official stamp and the president’s signature. You skimmed it:
The animator pairs hadn’t been chosen at random. No, the president had studied each of you carefully, spending days crafting the "perfect" pairings. You were cautious, level-headed, someone who hated lying and taking risks. Niki, on the other hand, was cunning, self-serving, and always looking for a challenge. "You’re the sun, and he’s the storm," the letter read. "You’ll balance each other out."
You couldn’t believe what you’d just read. You wanted to crumple the paper into a ball and hurl it into the lake, but you knew Niki would have to read it too. So, like the good girl you were, you slapped it back onto the table and shoved a cookie into your mouth, chewing angrily as you stormed into the bedroom.
The beds were too close: both queen-sized, separated only by a flimsy nightstand. You claimed the one by the window, thinking that if either of you stretched out an arm in the night, you’d probably touch. You shook your head, muttering to yourself as you unzipped your suitcase and started unpacking. For twenty minutes, the world almost felt normal. You could hear the distant sounds of other animators unpacking, laughter echoing from nearby bungalows, the gentle lapping of waves against the lake’s rocky shore, and the chirping of birds. Normally, these sounds would’ve soothed you.
But peace wasn’t going to last.
The bungalow door creaked open, and the thud of Niki’s leather duffel bag hitting the floor told you one thing: your peace was officially over. The longest three months of your life were about to begin.
He strode toward Bungalow 20, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes in that defiant, street-meets-prairie style of his. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how his life had turned into some cheesy teen movie. He and his friends had planned to leave Montana for a couple of months a road trip through California, Oregon, all the way up to Canada. But then, surprise, he’d been caught behind the wheel of a stolen, tricked-out car, drifting like an idiot after watching one of his best friends win the world rodeo championship. It had been a stupid move, and his parents had bailed him out—literally—paying his bond for the joyride with stolen cars. He’d expected to end up picking up trash on the side of the road or serving meals at a soup kitchen. Instead, fate had other plans.
And now here he was, strolling through a summer camp, sentenced to three months of untouched nature, suffocating rules, and an endless horde of screaming kids as a counselor. When the town—and his parents—had first suggested it, he’d laughed in their faces. Him, babysitting a bunch of rule-breaking brats (just like he’d been)? No thanks. But here he was, and the cherry on top of this absurd sundae? You.
You were the classic good girl of the town: mayor’s daughter, straight-A student, the kind of girl every mom dreamed of for their wayward sons. The thought of spending three goddamn months with you made him want to punch something. But at the same time, it intrigued him. Because even good girls had secrets, and he was dying to uncover yours.
When he pushed open the bungalow door, the contrast hit him like a slap. The air smelled of vanilla, butter, and cherry—sickeningly sweet, almost too clean, the exact opposite of his own scent of mint and spice, the kind that lingered even from a mile away. He dropped his duffel with a heavy thud onto the wooden floor. His eyes landed on the vanilla-butter cookies left by the kitchen staff, the note reading, "Made with all the love for our favorite new counselors." He rolled his eyes, then spotted the president’s letter. As he read it aloud, his expression shifted from shock to amusement. The letter praised you like some saint, while it described him as if he were a seven-headed monster. He shook his head, laughing at how surreal this whole situation was.
With half a cookie still in his mouth, he walked into the bedroom. You were bent over, meticulously arranging your tank tops with a precision that both irritated and fascinated him. He watched your wispy braids sway with every movement, and admitting it only to himself your body wasn’t half bad for someone who spent their life buried in books. The way your jeans hugged your hips, the way your tank top accentuated your chest—damn. He cleared his throat, unable to resist.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, his smirk promising nothing but trouble. "If it isn’t Miss Braids herself...my roommate for the next three months."
You whipped around, glaring at him with a look that could’ve incinerated anyone else on the spot.
"Oh, joy," you snapped, your voice sharp as a blade. "I’m thrilled to share a room with a two-bit delinquent."
Niki chuckled, reaching out to brush his fingers over the cover of one of your classic novels—Wuthering Heights, some psychological thriller he’d never even heard of. "Looks like even the library mouse knows all about my life."
You crossed your arms, lifting your chin in defiance. "I couldn’t care less about your life. In fact, the less I hear about it, the better. But we do live in a small town where gossip spreads, and unfortunately, my dad’s the mayor, so I’ve had to listen to more about your stupid antics than I’d like."
You took him in, your lips curling into a slight pout. Niki had an undeniable aura intimidating, yet magnetic. He was the kind of guy you didn’t forget easily, and that annoyed you even more.
Niki sighed, ignoring your jab, and flopped onto his bed. The wooden frame groaned under his weight—all 6’5” of muscle and arrogance seemed almost too much for the half-queen mattress. He stretched lazily, the movement hitching his oversized hoodie up just enough to reveal a sliver of golden skin and the waistband of his Playboy boxers peeking out from his low-slung jeans. You knew Niki had his own style, and you couldn’t deny even to yourself—that it wasn’t entirely unappealing. Your eyes flickered there for just a millisecond, and he caught it. A victorious smirk spread across his lips.
"Your parents are gonna lose it when they find out their sweet little angel has to share a room with a ‘criminal’ for three months," he mused, touching his lips thoughtfully, shattering the brief peace.
You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. "They trust me and I won’t do anything reckless...or wrong in your presence."
You crossed your arms tighter beneath your chest, a defensive gesture that only drew Niki’s attention. In two quick strides, he closed the distance between you, towering over you with his imposing frame. The scent of spiced mint filled the air, thick and intoxicating.
"Mmm, we’ll see," he murmured, lowering his head near your ear. "If I were a parent, I wouldn’t be too comfortable knowing my daughter had to spend countless nights in my company, wren."
Your face flushed with anger and something else, something forbidden. You slapped his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric. "You’re just a lost cause, Niki and stop calling me wren!"
He let out a low, rough laugh as he headed toward the bathroom to unpack. "Never. We both know you’ll never outgrow me."
And there you stood, frozen in the middle of the room as the bathroom door clicked shut, your heart pounding, anger battling with an annoying, unwelcome rush of adrenaline.
A week had passed since the summer camp started, and if there were an award for patience, they should name a town square after you or better yet, erect an entire statue in your honor right in front of your hometown’s city hall. Sharing Bungalow 20 with Niki wasn’t just a challenge, it was a refined form of psychological torture. And for someone as naturally calm and patient as you, he made every day harder than the last.
Problem number one? Sleep. You loved slipping between the sheets at a decent hour—okay, maybe you were a little too fond of going to bed early. By 9 PM, you could already be drifting off to sleep, lulled by the sound of the stream outside. But Niki had other plans. Let’s just say he forgot to mention one tiny detail: he suffered from insomnia. Watching you fall asleep in five minutes flat had thrown him off because he was a night owl. He’d stay awake until 2 AM, whistling, spinning his phone between his fingers, or sketching with the music blasting. You’d politely suggested he could stay outside there were comfy puff chairs or even a hammock but he’d just smirked and said, "No thanks, I’d rather not get eaten by a bear."
And then there was the issue of tidiness. The word "order" didn’t exist in Niki’s vocabulary or maybe it did, but he took great pleasure in driving you insane. You weren’t a neat freak, but you at least tried not to turn the room into a refugee camp. The bungalow wasn’t huge just a wooden entrance table, a cushioned bench with big windows overlooking the clearing, a tiny sitting area, and an open space with your two beds and a bathroom (which, admittedly, was bigger than necessary, and you weren’t complaining about that).
Niki, on the other hand, scattered his oversized hoodies everywhere like he was marking his territory. And don’t even get started on his razors left on the sink. "For the two stray hairs on your face, you could at least put them away!" you’d yelled one morning, but he’d just flashed that infuriating smirk while shaving his cheek.
But the final straw was the ID card prank. Every counselor had to carry theirs to access camp areas, and one morning, yours had vanished—poof, like magic. You were in full-blown panic, tearing the place apart: under the bed, between books, in the bathroom, under the bench. Then Niki leaned against the doorframe, watching you huff and mutter, that annoying smile playing on his lips.
"Looking for this, Princess?" he asked, dangling the ID card from his index finger.
You lunged to grab it, but he lifted his arm, using all of his 195 centimeters to keep it out of reach. You glared as you hopped uselessly, trying to snatch it.
"You know," he murmured, letting you nearly collide with his chest as you jumped, "you should keep it somewhere safer… maybe pinned right here…" He tapped the neckline of your tank top with the edge of the card, watching your cheeks flush pink. He’d discovered he loved seeing your round cheeks turn every shade of red, and without another word, he draped it around your neck, letting it fall against your chest. Then he winked and disappeared into the kitchen.
But the incident that truly made you snap happened one late afternoon. You’d just returned to the bungalow after an exhausting day of supervising dozens of kids screaming on the lake’s inflatables, your hair a disaster and your legs shaking with fatigue. Without a care in the world, you flung the door open, only to freeze.
Sitting on Niki’s bed was a girl, one of the sports group counselors, laughing hysterically at something he’d said. She was practically straddling him. You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly popped out, your face turning as red as a bell pepper—not from embarrassment, but from pure, unadulterated rage. You shot the girl a look that could’ve killed a grizzly bear.
When Niki gestured for her to leave like she’d never been there, you pointed a finger at him and snapped:
"It’s incredibly disrespectful to bring random people into our bungalow, especially at this hour when you know I come back exhausted! I’m seriously tired, I just want to shower and sleep, and instead, I walk in to find you doing… who knows what with that girl!" You crossed your arms, glaring, and Niki pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at how furious you were. He sat up, running a hand through his blond hair, and looked at you with an amused grin.
"What’s wrong, Shorty? You’re not… jealous, are you? I didn’t know the mayor’s daughter cared so much about my free time."
You shot him your worst glare. "Jealous? Of you?!" you scoffed, pointing at him. "Right now, I’m furious, not jealous! If you’re going to bring girls in here whenever you feel like it, then starting tomorrow, I’ll bring a guy in too, no, I’ll bring a different one every night!" You gestured to the bungalow, and Niki stiffened instantly. His jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscles in his neck tighten, and his gaze darkened, almost dangerous but only for a second. The next moment, he burst into laughter, flopping backward onto the bed.
"Why the hell are you laughing?!" you demanded, even angrier, but he just stretched out, taking up the entire bed with his endless legs, and looked at you with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.
"Oh, this is rich! The girl with the braids—who I’m pretty sure has never been kissed in her life—wants to bring some random guy into our room! Go ahead, Y/n, you wouldn’t even know where to start."
Your cheeks burned a shade of red you’d never experienced before. Jabbing a finger at him, you hissed, "You don’t know the first thing about me, Niki!" Your voice trembled with indignation. You grabbed your robe and toiletries and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard the wooden walls of the bungalow shook.
Under the shower’s spray, you cursed him in every language you knew. But deep in your chest, your heart refused to calm down and you weren’t sure if it was from the insult or the way he’d looked at you when you’d mentioned bringing another guy in.
That morning, the soft Montana dawn light filtered through the curtains, bringing with it the usual chorus of birds and the steady murmur of the stream just a few meters from your bungalow. You would have given half your counselor’s salary to stay under the blankets for another ten minutes or maybe the whole morning because as a kid, you never truly realized how much work animators had behind the scenes. But duty called, and that week, you’d been assigned to fabric painting at 9:15 AM. So, with a lazy groan, you sat up, and just like every single morning since this nightmare began the first thing your eyes focused on was the occupant of the bed beside you.
Your gaze landed on Niki, a tangle of icy blond hair and heavy sighs. You noticed how his hair was slowly growing out, the dark roots of his natural color peeking through. His lips were slightly pouty in sleep, and he clutched the pillow beneath him like he was afraid someone might steal it. His thick eyebrows, usually furrowed in annoyance, were finally relaxed, making him look almost… innocent. Just a boy too big for a bed too small.
You knew he also had fishing duty at 9:15 AM, but after a week of stolen ID cards and jokes about how you embodied the "good girl" ideal, you decided your "act of kindness" would be letting him sleep. A wicked little smirk tugged at your lips as you thought, I could let him sleep… so he doesn’t wake up in time for the start of activities. You reached out to shake his shoulder but then stopped yourself. With a quiet chuckle, you muttered under your breath as you closed yourself in the bathroom, "Let him be late."
And so, you began your skincare ritual: slathering on pounds of sunscreen (because your skin had to stay flawless, even if you were going to sweat or get thrown into the water), adding a touch of self-tanner (since you still hadn’t achieved the exact shade of tan you wanted), and then pulling on your swimsuit, a T-shirt, athletic shorts, and braiding your hair as you finished, you noticed a stack of Post-its leaning against the mirror. You grabbed the pad and started decorating the bathroom mirror like it was a Christmas tree of warnings.
Green Post-it: I DON’T KNOW WHAT WORLD YOU LIVE IN, NIKI, BUT THERE’S SOMETHING CALLED A CLOSET FOR A REASON -> PUT YOUR HOODES IN THERE (Otherwise, the one on my chair is about to become a mop for the floor, and I don’t think you’d like that—especially since I know some of your hoodies cost as much as two months of our salary).
Blue Post-it: STOP PLAYING THOSE WAR GAMES AT 2 AM. Some people need to dream about things other than explosions and actually sleep peacefully. Try unplugging from those electronic gadgets and falling asleep to the sound of the stream and night crickets.
Yellow Post-it: TRY NOT TO USE MY SAKURA BODY WASH! I don’t think the scent of cherry blossoms helps your bad-boy reputation. What will the other girls think when they smell you reeking of girliness? They’ll just get even more jealous of me…
Orange Post-it: RAZORS HAVE A HOME. IT’S CALLED A ‘PERSONAL CABINET,’ NOT A ‘BATHROOM SINK DECORATION. Also, you’ve got, like, two stray hairs max, stop acting like you’re grooming a lion’s mane."
Pink Post-it: If you feel like breaking the next girl’s heart, don’t bring her into our room. I’d rather not see another girl leaving in tears because of you!
You checked the time: 8:15 AM. Niki hadn’t moved a millimeter, lost in a deep sleep that made him look almost… innocent. Almost, obviously. You grabbed the last Post-it before heading to breakfast and stuck it on the exit door. In your neat but determined handwriting, you wrote:
Oops, looks like your human alarm clock had a technical malfunction this morning or maybe just ‘forgot’ to share her air with you. Hope those five hours of sleep (well, six now) were enough, since you spend your nights doing everything but sleeping. I let you sleep, obviously, because I care’ and not at all because I wanted you to be late… (nope, not at all). Consider this my ‘welcome gift’… or maybe just proof that I can play dirty too, Niki. See you at the lake—if you can keep your eyes open and make it to roll call on time:)
Your favorite roommate:)
Niki was about to explode. He’d grown up with two other girls his age, and sure, there had been disagreements and fights, but you? You outdid them both. When his eyes finally opened and focused on the clock, his first thought wasn’t panic over being late it was a name spat like a curse between his teeth: "Y/n."
When he turned to see if you were still there, he found your bed perfectly made and rolled his eyes. He dragged himself out of bed, cursing you in every language he knew, because you two had an agreement or rather, you had established the rules, and he had grunted in assent, that you’d wake each other up but no, today you’d had the brilliant idea of leaving without calling him. And now, with twenty minutes until activities started, he was still in his boxers, his hair a wild mess.
He stumbled into the bathroom, tripping over one of his own hoodies left on the floor, only to find himself facing an explosion of colorful Post-its on the mirror. He grumbled under his breath as he splashed water on his face.
"She seriously took the time to write out all these stupid rules instead of waking me up?" he muttered through a mouthful of toothpaste foam, glaring at the green Post-it.
"Put away your hoodies… use my body wash… but look at this one..." he said, mimicking your voice and grabbing a cookie from the table while frantically searching for his ID card. The taste of chocolate clashed violently with the minty toothpaste, creating a disgusting mix, and he wondered how Sunoo, one of his best friends could stand that contrast.
Just as he was about to leave, he spotted the last Post-it on the door and read it twice, the cookie still between his teeth: "Because I ‘care’ and not at all because I wanted you to be late… (nope, not at all)."
Niki blinked, then let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a growl and an incredulous laugh.
"‘I care,’ huh?" he muttered to himself, glaring at the yellow paper. "You’re such a little liar, Shorty. You left me to rot in bed so that you could enjoy the show of me running around like an idiot."
He grabbed his ID card, adjusting his cowboy hat with a sharp motion, but his movements were less furious than before. There was a strange electricity humming under his skin. Obviously, that Post-it was a provocation of course it was but it was also glaring proof that the mayor’s daughter, the so-called "untouchable" girl, wasn’t just putting up with his presence. She was studying him. She knew how many hours he slept, that he played video games until 2 AM, and even that he used your body wash. She was paying way too much attention to him.
With a small smirk lighting up his gaze, he tucked the Post-it behind his phone case. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing it, but the idea of carrying a little piece of your neat handwriting with him appealed to him more than he wanted to admit.
And with that, he rushed off to the little ones’ fishing activity, fully intending to drive you just as crazy that day.
The weekend had finally arrived, and the atmosphere at Camp Montana had shifted. While most of the counselors were loading up their cars to escape to the nearest town, searching for parties, cocktails, or luxury hotel retreats to unwind, you had very different plans. The wildlife trail started just a 10-minute walk from the camp’s parking lot, and you were looking forward to two hours of hiking, surrounded by the scent of hay, sun-warmed trees, and the sun beating down on your skin. But what you were really looking forward to was a hearty plate of melted cheese with sausage and mushrooms, topped off with a wild berry panna cotta—the meal you’d been dreaming about for days.
That night, you’d gone to bed more excited than usual, simply because you couldn’t wait to spend a day completely free of Niki. When you woke at dawn, the sky was still painted in soft violet hues, and the first birds were beginning to chirp. You stretched, instinctively turning toward Niki’s bed, expecting to see the usual tangle of blond hair and blankets strewn in every direction. But to your surprise, the bed was empty. Your heart gave a little leap, it was the first time you didn’t have to deal with his impossible schedule. That is, until you heard the water running.
You made a slightly confused face and thought to yourself, It’s seven in the morning, and he’s already up? Where is that guy even going? I hope he’s not up to something stupid.
With those questions swirling in your mind, you headed to the kitchen to make coffee, watching as the first rays of sunlight set the mountain peaks ablaze. A few moments later, Niki emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp and tousled. He was wearing a faded ‘80s band T-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, baggy jeans, and sturdy hiking boots. He pulled his New Yorker cap on backward, and you had to admit, reluctantly that his style was growing on you. Maybe even a little too much. You quickly looked away.
"Where are you going?" you asked, clutching your coffee mug like a shield. Niki reached out, snatching a cookie from the table, and took a bite with casual indifference.
"Hiking with you and your little friends," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. You closed your eyes, certain he was joking. When you opened them again, you nearly spilled your coffee into the sink, coughing in surprise.
"Wait, what? You...you’re coming with us? Into the woods? For hours?" You tried to talk him out of it. "I don’t think that’s your ideal habitat."
Niki shrugged, shooting you an amused glance from under the brim of his cap. "What? Surprised? I can walk like a normal person, Shorty. And I can adapt to any natural habitat..especially when you’re there." He winked at you, and you opened your mouth to retort, but no words came out.
"So… you’re telling me you’re coming with us? You’re actually waiting for me?"
He nodded, picking up the mug you’d only taken a sip from and downing the rest of your coffee. "Yeah, just don’t take an hour to get ready." He stepped outside onto the porch, and the word "ready" made your cheeks burn. You didn’t need to be told twice. You rushed to the bathroom, washing your face at lightning speed and braiding your hair into your usual neat plaits. You threw on a ribbed tank top with faded rainbow stripes that gave you a fresh, lively look, a pair of comfortable jeans that ended just above your knees, your hiking boots, and your New Yorker cap. When you stepped outside, grab your backpack and camera, you found Niki lounging on the porch hammock. The moment you appeared, he lifted his gaze and looked you up and down. For a second, his usual smirk faded, replaced by an unreadable expression. Without meaning to, he inhaled, catching the faint scent of your sakura-scented body wash, your signature fragrance in the bungalow and, apparently, his favorite in just a few weeks. With a fluid motion, he hopped off the hammock, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and gestured toward the trail.
You walked in silence to the meeting point, but it was a different kind of silence. Neither of you teased or provoked the other. For once, there was no war between you...
When Lia saw you both approaching, her eyes widened. Okay, sure, you’d told the whole camp that anyone who wanted to join the hike was welcome, but she hadn’t expected to see you arrive with Niki. She rushed over, linking her arm through yours and pulling you a step forward to whisper in your ear:
"And what is he doing here? He’s complained every day about not being able to sleep, and now that he has two whole days to catch up, he’s coming on a hike?"
"He decided to come hiking with us," you replied with a shrug, trying to sound indifferent while feeling Niki’s gaze burning into the back of your neck.
Lia turned to study him properly. Niki was leaning against a tree with effortless ease, observing the forest as if he’d known it his whole life. She was skeptical, she knew a guy like him wouldn’t choose a flat trail and a refuge lunch unless there was a more... personal reason. She looked at you, then at him, and a small, knowing smile spread across her face. Deep down, she already understood what was brewing between you, though she decided not to say anything, she didn’t want to make your cheeks burn any brighter. She couldn’t wait to see how your days together would unfold.
The crisp Montana air was like a jolt of pure energy, invigorating you with every breath. You took long, deep inhales, savoring the sweet sensation of fresh, clean air filling your lungs. You loved walking along the flat trail, surrounded by greenery, the sound of babbling brooks, and the occasional sight of cows grazing in the distance. Every few minutes, people would wave and wish you a good day, making you feel right at home, because deep down, you’d always loved spending time outdoors, and your years at summer camp had only deepened that love for nature.
You and Lia led the group with confidence, knowing every rock and turn of the path by heart after years of hiking it together. Each time, you’d discover something new, something you’d missed the year before. But every time you raised your camera to capture a snow-capped peak, a wildflower, or one of Lia’s funny faces, the lens somehow ended up framing Niki instead. He walked with an effortless swagger, earbuds in, his gaze shifting between the mountain peaks and your figure just a few meters ahead.
It was odd to wear earbuds when you could hear the birds, the cows, the rushing water but by now, you’d grown used to Niki’s quirks. If it made him comfortable, you weren’t about to say anything.
Niki took in the landscape, and it wasn’t half bad—though he’d never admit it out loud. He was a Chicago guy, used to 2 a.m. outings because he couldn’t sleep, extreme sports, and pure adrenaline. The quiet of nature usually bored him to death, but the thought of staying in the empty bungalow without your indignant glares and quick comebacks had convinced him that maybe a hike wasn’t so terrible. He liked watching you—how you were kind to everyone, sunny, the way people gravitated toward you because you gave off the vibe of someone everyone wanted to be around. But with him, you were the exact opposite, fiery, ready to snap the second he opened his mouth to tease you. That contrast was getting under his skin, and it annoyed him more than he cared to admit. It hadn’t even been a month since you’d started sharing your lives, and yet his eyes sought you out everywhere. He hated the effect you had on him.
At one point, the group stopped because a small stream had flooded the trail, creating a muddy, slippery passage. The guys in the group started playing the chivalrous heroes, helping the others cross. Niki quickened his pace until he was right behind you, his warm breath brushing against your earlobe, carrying the scent of mint and something spicy.
"Wren, let me go first," he murmured in that rough voice that sent a shiver down your spine. "Halfway through, I’ll grab your hand and pull you across." He smirked, and when he saw you startle at his sudden closeness, he chuckled. You whipped around, and your faces were inches apart, your cheeks flaming at the unexpected proximity.
"Thanks, but I can manage on my own," you said, proud. "Do you know how many times I’ve hiked this trail? A little water isn’t going to stop me."
He stepped aside with a dramatic flourish, gesturing for you to go ahead. You tried to proceed with dignity, and for a while, it went fine—until you reached a slippery, unstable rock. Panic set in. You hadn’t brought extra clothes or spare shoes, and the thought of ending up soaked in front of everyone—especially him—was a humiliation you couldn’t afford. You heard the others urging you to hurry, a small crowd forming behind you. You closed your eyes, swallowed your pride, and said:
"Niki… could you come to the middle and then go ahead? That way, you can grab my hand and pull me across?"
His smirk widened, lighting up his blond features—he had bet on you needing his help eventually. "Oh, so now you really get that you need me, wren?"
"Please, spare me the Montana hero speech and move that giant body of yours before I throw a rock at your head!" you snapped, trying to hide your embarrassment. You were stuck in the middle of the stream, and everyone was watching but you only cared about the gaze of one person in particular. He didn’t need to be told twice. With an effortless leap, he landed on the stable rock beside you, gesturing for you to hand over your backpack. Then, with infuriating ease, he launched himself toward the grassy bank, landing perfectly dry.
A moment later, he turned and reached his arm out to you. It was long, solid, veins standing out on the back of his hand, adorned with small silver rings. You wobbled slightly toward the water, and he stepped forward to catch you.
"Jump, Y/N. I’ve got you, you won’t fall," he said, rising onto his toes to get closer. You took a deep breath and leaped without thinking. His large, warm hands instantly closed around your waist, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. For an endless moment, you were pressed against his chest, feeling the heat of his body against yours. His minty, musky scent overwhelmed your senses, making you forget where you were. Without meaning to, you nestled closer to him. After a moment, you looked up and found his face just centimeters from yours, that victorious smirk still playing on his lips as he enjoyed the fact that everyone was staring.
"Thanks," you whispered, your cheeks burning as he set you down with maddening slowness. You tucked some loose strands of hair behind your ears, and Niki saw how utterly flustered you were. He found it ridiculously cute but didn’t say a word. Instead, he watched as you grabbed your backpack and hurried to catch up with Lia, who was barely containing a sarcastic comment about what had just happened. You shot her such a fierce look that she immediately raised her hands in surrender.
"Okay, okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut!" she said, laughing.
The trail leading to the refuge was a relentless uphill climb that seemed to never end, but the view waiting at the top made every drop of sweat worth it. Every time you hiked that path and reached the summit, the scenery was breathtaking. When you finally caught sight of the wooden cabin with its umbrellas and lounge chairs neatly lined up along the meadow, a chorus of relieved sighs rose from the group everyone was utterly exhausted.
You and Lia, without needing to say a word, quickened your pace—though maybe that wasn’t the best idea, since it left the others behind and your legs started aching but the moment you stepped inside the refuge, the smell of freshly cooked food wrapped around you, and your stomachs growled in response.
In front of the entrance, a menu written on a chalkboard made your mouths water: melted cheese with sausage and mushrooms, beef stew with potatoes, hot sausage sandwiches with various sides but it was the dessert list that made you both grin: panna cotta with berries, Sacher cake, strudel. You and Lia exchanged a look of pure complicity—you couldn’t wait to dig into those homemade sweets.
"Oh my God, I’m about to die from happiness," you said at the sight of so many treats, and Lia sighed at the sight of a waitress carrying a perfect slice of Sacher cake, already imagining the first bite of that heavenly dessert.
You dropped your backpacks onto a long wooden table, and while the others settled in, you couldn’t resist unbuttoning the first two buttons of your blouse, you wanted to soak up as much sun as possible and relax. You put on your sunglasses and stretched out on a lounge chair like a cat basking in the sun. Lia did the same, but unlike you, Lia was a first-class chatterbox and didn’t stop talking for a second:
"Damn, Y/n, look at Niki," she said, nodding toward the shade of the refuge. "He seriously hates the sun. How can he just sit there in the shade, sulking with that little notebook of his, drawing or writing who knows what, when he could be out here soaking up some sun and relaxing by the stream like normal people?"
You turned slightly and, sure enough, saw Niki leaning against the refuge wall, legs crossed, notebook on his knees, and a scowl that, for some reason, made a stupid little smile tug at your lips. You quickly shook your head.
Since when did you find him cute? you thought. He was everything you shouldn’t want in your life....especially that annoying pout of his, the way he ignored the world around him.
"Good thing he’s over there by himself instead of coming to ruin my free day too," you replied, trying to sound indifferent. Lia chuckled, noticing how you’d glanced at him.
"You know, it’s weird that, purely by coincidence, he ended up coming on this hike with us too. I think he came because…"
You pushed your sunglasses up and shot her a glare. She immediately clamped her mouth shut and raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, we won’t talk about you and him...well, we won’t talk about him at all, Y/n. Just today. I’ll put my headphones in and listen to a podcast or some music for an hour while we enjoy the fresh air and sunshine."
You nodded, but before sliding your sunglasses back down, you couldn’t resist sneaking another look at Niki. He was completely absorbed in sketching, his pencil moving swiftly across the page, his brow slightly furrowed. As if sensing the weight of your gaze, he looked up, and your eyes met. You immediately lowered your sunglasses and pretended to look around before lying back down on the lounge chair, but you could feel your cheeks burning.
Damn it… He always caught you looking at him. Every single time.
On the other side, Niki lowered his gaze back to his notebook, a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at his lips. For the first time in a long while, there was a real person in his sketches, he’d been drawing the mountains, quick strokes and shading, but there was also the profile of a girl with braids taking photos by a stream and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
Lunch at the refuge had been devoured in the blink of an eye—everyone had grabbed food and shared it among laughter and old mountain stories meant to scare the group. But the peace lasted only until dessert arrived. When the waitress placed that slice of warm strudel in front of you, crispy pastry, vanilla ice cream already melting into a delicious cream, you thought you’d died and gone to heaven. You’d been dreaming of that slice for ages, but you hadn’t accounted for Niki’s presence. Without a word, he stretched his fork toward your dessert and, with zero hesitation, broke off half your slice.
"Hey! That’s my cake!" you exclaimed, eyes wide, as Niki didn’t even bother looking at you. With a little smirk, he broke off another piece, and you, furious, jammed your fork between the tines of his to block him. He finally lifted his gaze, those expressive eyes locking onto yours.
"This is my cake, Niki. You have your yogurt, which is probably just as sour as you are," you hissed, aware that half the table was snickering at your little scene.
"Everyone said we should share," he countered, "and I’ll share mine with your dessert." He gestured to your strudel, and you snapped:
"Well, I’d never trade my cake for yogurt I could get in the camp cafeteria!"
Before you could finish, he swooped in with lightning speed, bringing a piece of strudel to his mouth. You opened your lips to protest, but the sound died in your throat as Niki closed his eyes and let out a low, guttural moan, almost like a purr of satisfaction, that made your stomach flutter. He brought a finger to his lips to wipe away a trail of vanilla ice cream, and in that moment, you felt your ears burning.
"Mmm… I get why you don’t want to share," he said, his gaze lingering on your lips a second too long. "It’s delicious. I’ll have another bite." He leaned even closer to your plate, and you snapped:
"Forget it!" You clutched the plate to your chest like it was your most precious treasure, and he kept talking:
"Come on, Y/n, share a little. Don’t be a baby," he teased, and Lia, beside you, burst out laughing.
"You two are like an old married couple fighting over the remote. Y/N, just give him a piece—you know he’ll win anyway."
You shot her a glare. "You’re supposed to be on my side, Lia!" you grumbled, finishing your slice in quick bites while glaring daggers at Niki, who returned to his "boring" yogurt with berries. Halfway through, he held out the spoon with some fruit, but you shook your head proudly. Niki thought you were seriously acting like a child—a little pouty, a little stubborn—but that angry pout of yours made him feel things he shouldn’t, and he noticed how your eyes never left him, even if your glare was murderous.
After eating, the group split up, some hiked higher, while Niki, against all expectations, flopped onto a lounge chair in the sun. By 5 PM, when the air started cooling, Lia and the others approached you.
"We’re heading back, Y/n. Coming?" she asked.
You glanced at Niki, fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. It was strange: back at the bungalow, he fought insomnia until 2 AM, but here, on an uncomfortable wooden lounge chair, he looked like an angel (maybe a fallen one), wrestling with his demons. Without realizing it, you said:
"I’ll stay another half hour. We share the bungalow—I’ll make this sacrifice and head down with him."
Lia looked slightly surprised and glanced at the dark clouds gathering over the peaks. "Okay, but don’t take too long, the weather here changes in a heartbeat. Text me when you get back to camp."
You nodded and sat beside him, trying to focus on The Mistake by Elle Kennedy, but the words danced on the page. You’d been stuck on the same page for 10 minutes. When only a few people remained, you stood up and poked his back with a finger.
"Niki, stop sleeping. We need to go down," you said, but there was no response, you realized he had headphones in. You yanked them out with a sharp motion, cutting off the music.
"Niki Nishimura! We have to go back! You can sleep at the bungalow!"
He opened his eyes slowly and saw your braids swaying inches from his face. He let out a lazy, warm chuckle, and you huffed.
"What’s so funny? It’s past five, and it’s about to rain!"
Instead of answering, Niki reached out and tugged lightly on one of your braids, twirling it around his fingers with a familiarity that stole your breath...only your family ever played with your hair like that. You slapped his hand away.
"Are you crazy? Don’t touch my hair again, and let’s go—look what’s coming over the mountains!" You pointed to the dark clouds forming, and he sighed, stretching like a cat. In the movement, his ’80s band T-shirt rode up, and your eyes widened, right there, on his V-line, was a tattoo… red lips? They looked perfect, inked in such a scandalous spot that it made your head spin. Whose lips were those?
You shook your head, heat flooding your face. Grabbing your backpack, you spun around and jabbed a finger at him. "I’m not waiting for you anymore! Everyone else left an hour ago, and if you want to stay here and get struck by lightning, be my guest—because I’ve already been too nice waiting for you, and I don’t even know why!"
You stormed off, heart pounding at the memory of that tattooed skin shaped like lips, but after a few minutes, a familiar shadow fell over you. You turned and saw Niki, less than two steps behind, hair tousled, backpack slung over his shoulder, and that usual scowl etched on his face. You rolled your eyes, but deep down, the fact that he hadn’t left you alone sent a strange, annoying twist in your stomach. You nearly stopped in your tracks, and he said:
"Walk, wren," he murmured, brushing past you, leaving the scent of mint in the air. "Or I’ll have to fish you out of the mud when it starts raining!"
You hated Niki Nishimura with every fiber of your being, or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as the rain poured down, turning the Montana trail into a slippery, muddy mess. And for once, Niki had been right. Just minutes earlier, he’d said, "I’ll have to fish you out of the mud,"—and now, his words had become reality. You wanted to scream and kill him at the same time. The storm had only been raging for five minutes, but the water was already cascading down in sheets, and you clutched your backpack over your head in a desperate, useless attempt to stay dry. Meanwhile, you were seething—at yourself for not leaving with the others, at Niki for walking with an infuriating calm, as if he actually enjoyed this situation.
You shot him glowering looks until a deafening crack split the sky, thunder roaring through the mountains. You froze, paralyzed by the ominous sound. Everyone—your father, every camp instructor—had always drilled into you: "Never stay near trees during a mountain storm." And here you were, smack in the middle of a giant forest, your heart pounding with fear—for yourself, for Niki, for the fact that something terrible could happen to either of you.
Niki, realizing you’d stopped, whirled around. His usual bored expression vanished in an instant when he saw you—motionless, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders trembling. In three long strides, he was at your side.
"Why did you stop? We need to move!" he shouted over the rain, but you just stared at him, wide-eyed, hair plastered to your face.
"We’re going to get struck by lightning, Niki! It’s your fault! We’re still over an hour from camp, and we’re in the middle of nowhere!" you panicked. Another thunderclap, even closer, made the ground tremble. Before you could say another word, you felt Niki’s large, warm hand grab yours, and there was no time to protest—he started running, dragging you along in a frantic sprint through the downpour. You had to match his pace, even though you weren’t used to it.
"Do you even know where the hell you’re going?!" you yelled, but Niki didn’t answer. At the fork that led back to the summer camp, you watched in horror as he suddenly veered left.
"Are you SERIOUSLY going left?! The camp is to the RIGHT! Niki, I swear if I die because of you, my ghost will haunt you for the rest of your EXISTENCE—no, for ETERNITY!" you screamed. But instead of panicking, Niki burst out laughing a liberating, wild laugh, the kind of someone who hadn’t felt this alive and free in years, far from Chicago’s underground races and his parents’ problems. When he finally spotted an old abandoned barn between the trees, he pointed at it with a sharp gesture. As you stumbled inside, you were furious and immediately yanked your hand away as if it burned.
"I can’t believe this… How unlucky can I be? Why didn’t I just go down with Lia and the others? Why did I have the brilliant idea of waiting for you?!" you ranted, shivering from the cold. Niki shook the water from his hair like a wet dog and looked down at you—you seemed even smaller and more vulnerable, soaked and trembling.
"You should be thanking me, actually," he said with a vague gesture. "We’re safe, under a roof that’s protecting us from killer lightning and the storm."
You raised an eyebrow. "Thank you? For what, exactly?"
He huffed, stepping dangerously close to you. "Because you didn’t even know this shack existed. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be out there, frozen like a statue in the dark, drenched, and panicking in the storm. But hey, no problem, Y/n." He smirked, and you opened your mouth to retort but another flash of lightning lit up the sky outside, followed by thunder that seemed to shake the barn’s foundations. You shuddered violently, and before you even realized it, you stepped closer to him, seeking protection—though you were still seething.
"It’s all my fault…" you murmured, voice trembling. "I should’ve gone down with the others and left you there sleeping on the lounge chair. Now we’re stuck here all night? No, I’m NOT spending the night in here! What if a wolf comes in? Or a bear and eats us both? Or the roof collapses...."
But before you could finish, your words were cut off by Niki’s lips crashing against yours. You froze, stunned by the unexpected softness of his mouth. Your thoughts spiraled:
What is he doing? Is he actually kissing me? Should I pull away? Will it be awkward? Will he realize it’s my first kiss?
But every doubt vanished when you felt his lips part slightly, inviting you to respond. This kiss was nothing like you’d imagined—not the rough, aggressive kind you’d expect from a guy like him, always surrounded by girls. Instead, there was an unexpected sweetness that stole your breath as his lips gently coaxed yours open. Your hands acted on their own—one fisted his soaked T-shirt, feeling the heat of his chest, while the other rested on his solid shoulder. You parted your lips further, letting him deepen the kiss, and you sighed into it, tasting the lingering vanilla ice cream mixed with the mint of his breath. Niki let out a low, satisfied hum against your mouth, his lips lightly sucking your lower lip, a barely-there smirk forming between you—as if he knew he’d finally shut you up.
But then reality hit like a slap. You jerked back, pressing a trembling hand to your mouth, your heart pounding in your throat.
Niki had just stolen your first kiss...your very first kiss.
He stood still, towering over you with wet hair falling onto his forehead, watching you with a small smirk—finally, he’d managed to shut you up.
"You…" you whispered, pointing at him with a trembling finger. "Why did you kiss me?" you shrieked, shocked. Niki just shrugged with an infuriating nonchalance.
"I wanted to shut you up somehow, and I figured kissing you was the quickest way. That’s all… You were rambling too much, Y/n, and I hate people who talk too much."
Your cheeks burned, and you didn’t know whether to slap him or kiss him again. You opened your mouth to unleash a string of insults, to tell him how arrogant and presumptuous he was, but the words died in your throat. With a smooth, unembarrassed motion, Niki pulled off his soaked shirt, leaving you frozen, your eyes glued to his body—sculpted like marble, dark lines of tattoos snaking across his skin in designs you couldn’t quite decipher. But your gaze inevitably dropped lower, to that defined V-line disappearing into his wet jeans, to that lip-shaped tattoo that seemed both scandalous and sexy. Your cheeks flared with heat, and you snapped your eyes downward, pretending sudden interest in the muddy tips of your shoes.
Meanwhile, Niki pulled out a gray long-sleeved shirt from his backpack too thin for the dropping temperature—then a thick, carefully folded gray hoodie. You assumed it was for him, but instead, he stepped closer. Seeing you speechless for once, he teased with a chuckle:
"Damn, if kissing you or showing off my tattoos is what it takes to shut you up, I should’ve done it ages ago back at the bungalow. You never stop talking from morning to night!" he said with an annoying smirk.
"You’re an idiot!" you snapped, giving him a little shove, but he didn’t budge an inch. Instead, he draped his hoodie over your shoulders.
"Take off that blouse and put this on," he ordered, his gaze suddenly serious as he watched you shiver. "At least you’ll stay warm and won’t freeze to death before we get back to camp, otherwise, you’ll have a fever of 40 tomorrow."His eyes lingered on you, and you wanted to strangle him, but your chattering teeth wouldn’t let you play tough. The hoodie was soft, plush inside, and you nodded, but first, you muttered:
"Turn around. I need to change."
Niki shot you a challenging look that lasted a couple of seconds, then sighed and turned his back.
"Don’t you dare turn around, Niki, seriously, or..."
He burst out laughing, a low chuckle echoing against the wooden walls. "Or what, wren? You’ll kiss me this time?"
You wanted to scream, but while he kept teasing you, you moved fast as lightning, peeling off your soaked blouse that clung to your skin like ice. You slipped into his hoodie....massive, the sleeves swallowing your hands completely, the hem falling to mid-thigh but the worst… or best part? The smell. It was intensely him: peppermint and something spicy, and without thinking, you buried your face in the high collar, inhaling his scent.
Niki turned slowly, expecting you to be done but when he saw you drowned in his clothes, your nose pressed into the fabric as you sought his scent, he froze. His mind raced: You looked so small in his hoodie, like it was made for you. And he hated how good you looked in his clothes, it drove him crazy. You were the classic "good girl" who should’ve stayed far away from someone like him… and yet, at the same time, he wanted to break you, make you his, just to prove to the world that even good girls needed a guy like him.
You realized he was staring at you longer than usual, and you whispered, "Thanks."
Niki raised an eyebrow, surprised by your response. "Whoa, I should mark this day on the calendar! The Princess actually said thank you without a judge forcing her!" he teased, chuckling. You rolled your eyes, trying to reclaim some dignity.
"You should thank me," you said, puffing up slightly as you clutched the long sleeves against your chest. He crossed his arms, amused by your answer.
"Oh? And what exactly should I thank you for?"
"For waiting for you!" you replied proudly. "Otherwise, you’d still be here asleep on that lounge chair in the middle of the storm." You shot him a glare, and Niki smirked, running a hand through his damp, icy-blond hair. He didn’t thank you with words, but his gaze softened for a moment before he turned toward a wooden ladder leading to the upper level of the barn, where dry hay awaited.
You walked to the heavy door, slamming it shut to block out the howling wind. Meanwhile, Niki tested the sturdiness of the ladder rungs with a sharp tug. The old wood groaned slightly, but he figured it could hold your combined weight. He climbed first, and when he reached the top, he found a small loft filled with the sweet scent of freshly gathered hay—soft enough to lie down on. There were even old burlap sacks stuffed with raw wool serving as makeshift pillows. It wasn’t luxury, but compared to the mud and rain outside, it felt like paradise.
"Wren, we can stretch out up here until the storm passes," he called, leaning over the edge as he watched you climb. Niki unconsciously bit his lower lip, his hoodie nearly swallowed you whole, your usually neat braids half-undone and messy, your lips still slightly swollen and trembling from the earlier kiss. For a microsecond, he thought you looked cute before shaking his head to banish the dangerous thought.
The space up there was cramped, so you kicked off your shoes, mimicking his movement, and knelt on the hay, trying to ignore how your legs brushed against his. You looked around, careful not to let your eyes linger too often on his face or his body.
"They’re definitely looking for us," you murmured, trying to reassure yourself as the wind howled through the cracks in the roof. "The camp director and all the counselors must have already sent out search parties. They’ll find us soon." You watched the sky grow darker, lit only by the flashes of thunder that made the entire structure tremble. Without thinking, you scooted closer to Niki, who was already half-reclined, a strand of hay caught between his lips, lazily shifting it with his tongue.
"I bet they’re worried about you, wren, not me," he said with a hint of cynicism, his intense gaze fixed on you. "You’re everyone’s favorite at camp—the perfect girl who never breaks the rules and I’m just… me." His eyes drifted to a fixed point in the barn.
"That’s not true," you countered, pulling your legs against your chest and burying your chin in the collar of his hoodie. "I bet all the girls who flock around you, the ones who sigh when you walk by and gossip about you—they’re all worried about you!"
Niki propped himself up on an elbow, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he detected the sarcastic edge—and maybe a hint of irritation—in your voice.
"Mmm, someone’s jealous, or maybe..."
You didn’t let him finish, swatting his arm playfully. "Stop it!" you snapped, glaring at him. He chuckled at your flushed cheeks, and another thunderclap tore through the sky, so loud it felt like it exploded right above you. You visibly shuddered, inching even closer to him.
"Are you scared of thunder, or are you just cold, Shorty?" he asked, looking at you almost protectively. You sighed, feeling a little pressured by his gaze.
"Don’t make fun of me, but… both. I was stupid not to bring a change of clothes like you did, and thank God you gave me your hoodie even if I know you’re cold too right now."
Niki murmured that you were perceptive, and you closed your eyes, feeling exhaustion and the chill in your bones as you tried to relax a little.
"Look, I know you don’t like physical contact, and you can’t stand me and trust me, the feeling is mutual but we’re human, right? Maybe we could… I don’t know, keep each other warm." You blurted out what you were thinking, though you might have phrased it poorly, because Niki’s eyes shot open, almost shocked. He nearly choked on his own saliva at what you’d just said.
"You know what you just said sounds really bad, right, Y/n? When a girl asks a guy to ‘keep her warm’… we tend to think of things that are a little more intimate than just sharing a blanket." He laughed, teasing you, and you immediately covered your face with your hands, feeling your cheeks burn.
"Oh my God, no! That’s not what I meant! This is so embarrassing! I gave my first kiss to a guy I can’t stand, I’m trapped in a falling-apart barn, I’m freezing to death, and..."
Before you could finish, Niki’s strong arms wrapped around you with a determination that brooked no argument, pulling you against his chest. Without meaning to, you nestled against him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, your hands instinctively resting over his heart. For a moment, you froze, feeling it beating fast—too fast for someone who pretended to be so calm.
Niki stayed still for a few seconds, his breath catching in his throat. He was the guy everyone had warned you to stay away from—the one who had been the first to brush against those lips that tasted of vanilla and far too much innocence. He could imagine it, really, how it had been your first kiss, from the way you’d hesitated, from the sweet, uncertain tension in your movements. But hearing you say it out loud while trembling in his arms made him feel something he’d never experienced before. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of your head against his chest, and for the first time, his usual arrogance gave way to a strange, unfamiliar curiosity.
"Wren… I never would’ve guessed I’d be your first kiss," he said quietly. "Between summer camp and university, half the guys are crazy about you. I just assumed at least one of them would’ve had the guts to kiss you by now."
You stiffened instantly, burying your face deeper into his hoodie. "Let’s not get into that chapter of my life. It’s embarrassing…" you mumbled, trying to turn away to hide the blush now creeping down your neck. But Niki didn’t let you. He held you close, forcing you to stay put until you both settled more comfortably in the hay. He stretched out fully while you propped yourself up on one elbow, trapped between his body and the slow, lazy circles his finger began tracing through the damp ends of your hair.
"Undo your braids, Y/N, or tomorrow you’ll have impossible knots, and it’ll all be my fault for dragging you through the storm," he teased, trying to lighten the tension between you. He twirled a strand around his finger, watching the way the dim lightning reflected in your hair. You pouted.
"You undo them, since you like playing with my hair so much!"
Niki didn’t need to be told twice. He looked at you intently, his fingers deftly unraveling the braids. When your hair tumbled loose over your shoulders and into his hand, he ran his fingers through it, almost enchanted by its softness. The scent of cherry filled the air, overwhelming the usual mint and rain, and for a moment, he thought he’d want to bury his face in your hair every damn morning, not just when you invaded the bungalow bathroom with that fragrance. But he quickly pushed the thought away when he saw you nervously tucking the strands behind your ears.
"I’m sorry I stole your first kiss," he started, but he didn’t look at you. "I bet you wanted to give it to some perfect, upper-class guy—you know, the kind with a perfectly ironed shirt and his whole future already mapped out."
You rolled your eyes and sighed deeply at the sudden chill in his tone. "Well, I can’t go back now, and my dream of giving my first kiss to someone I actually like—someone who actually likes me—is officially gone."
Niki was staring at you too intensely, his face too close, and said:
"Well, since we’re stuck here… why don’t you kiss me this time? You know, just for practice… Think of it as training for your future ‘perfect guy.’ At least you’ll know what to do when you meet him."
Your eyes widened, your cheeks burning. "What? No! Are you crazy?" you stammered, trying not to look at him, but he kept teasing you.
"Don’t tell me you’re scared to kiss me," he smirked, closing the distance between you by another centimeter. "Because if you’re scared, it means you’re scared to admit you actually like me." He was showing off, and you seriously wanted to slap him.
"I don’t like you, Niki, and I never will. Get that through your head," you shot back with all the confidence you could muster, even though your heart was pounding wildly against your ribs. You refused to meet his gaze, but he just grinned.
"Good. Then kiss me, Shorty. If you don’t like me, there’s no risk, right? You can just use me as your guinea pig for practice," he continued, amused by your flustered state. He leaned in even closer, his mouth a breath away from yours.
"Unless… you’re not doing it because you think that if you kiss me again, you won’t be able to stop."
But you didn’t let him finish. Just like he had done to you earlier, you slammed your lips against his to shut him up once and for all.
Niki smiled immediately against your mouth, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you hard against him.
Your lips were still uncertain, guided by a shyness that Niki seemed eager to devour with every touch but he also found it sweet. When you felt his tongue brush against your lower lip, he began to suck on those lips no one had ever dared kiss before, and a stifled moan escaped your throat. Niki thought he might just be the luckiest guy in the world, finding himself in this barn with you nearly in his arms, kissing like this.
The hand that had been resting over his heart slid lower, tracing the taut planes of his stomach, while Niki buried his fingers in your loose hair, pressing his palm against the back of your neck to keep you from pulling away—to pull you even closer, because he didn’t want this moment to end. He wanted you to feel just how much you were driving him crazy, and you sighed against his mouth, dazed by the sensations he was giving you with just kisses.
Then, driven by an instinct you didn’t even know you had, you leaned forward and imitated his gesture, timidly sucking on his lower lip. Niki let out a low growl, shifting slightly beneath you as he felt how you were trying—so shyly, so clumsily to drive him wild. But you’d been driving him wild since the first time he’d seen you in the bungalow. He craved more friction, more contact, as if even the smallest space between your bodies was still too much—though there was none at all. Without warning, he pushed his tongue past your lips, and when your tongues met for the first time, you both moaned.
Niki lowered you completely onto the hay, his weight hovering over you not crushing you, but making you feel protected by his warmth, by him. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you so close you could feel every muscle in his body pressed against yours. You kissed for minutes that felt like hours, not just fleeting kisses, but a mix of shy discovery, playful dominance, and restraint, your lips wandering to his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Both of you were drowning in a whirlwind of sensations and emotions you’d never felt before, and neither wanted to stop.
You pulled away just long enough to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You felt his fingers trace the skin at your side, slipping beneath the hem of the hoodie as he held you possessively against him.
"Niki…" you breathed, but he didn’t stop looking at you. Instead, he pressed a finger to your swollen, glossy lips and whispered:
"Don’t think, Wren. Just kiss me."
You didn’t need to be told twice. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him back to you with a force that surprised him, playing with the icy-blond strands at his nape, tugging lightly. Niki groaned against your lips, sending a shiver through you, and you continued to alternate between deep kisses and playful nips, exploring each other in that makeshift refuge while the Montana cold stayed locked outside those walls. For the first time, you felt truly warm but also protected by someone everyone had warned you to stay away from.
Eventually, exhaustion claimed one of you first, and soon, the only sounds in the barn were the drizzling rain and your steady breaths as you fell asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.
After that weekend trapped in the barn, reality hit hard again, because even though you’d kissed and fallen asleep together, you’d hoped those kisses might have changed something in Niki, made him softer or more "human." But you’d made the biggest mistake of your life thinking that, because Niki had gone back to being his usual self or maybe even worse.
His cynicism had doubled, his taunts had become more relentless, driving you crazy and making you curse him 24h-24h. He teased you endlessly but at the same time made it clear that nothing had happened between you, that those kisses had meant nothing. It was frustrating because you had to see him all the time, and you would’ve changed bungalows every day if you could. But when you finally decided you’d had enough, you found yourself walking near the rec area to make sure the kids didn’t wander off and then you saw something surreal, yet sweet enough to warm your heart.
Niki was sitting on the grass with his legs crossed, his back against an oak tree. In front of him was Nina, one of the liveliest little girls in the group, who never left him alone. As usual, Nina was chattering away, telling him how much she adored you and how badly she wanted braids just like yours because her little hands couldn’t manage to gather all her hair. You hid behind a tree, your heart beating strangely.
You saw that Niki wasn’t ignoring her like he usually did. Instead, he ran a hand through Nina’s hair to smooth it, then began braiding it with millimeter precision, his tongue slightly peeking out between his lips in pure concentration a gesture you knew well, one he always made when he was deeply focused on something. As he braided, Nina started talking again:
"I didn’t think someone like you would know how to braid!" Nina exclaimed with the blunt honesty of a child who wanted all his attention. "I bet you only know how because you can’t stop watching Y/N do hers in front of the mirror or when it’s too hot." She giggled, and you saw Niki freeze for a split second before chuckling and shaking his head.
"Oops, you caught me, Nina," he said, and you felt your cheeks warm slightly because you’d never noticed him watching you braid your hair.
"I bet you and Y/n will end up together someday, and you’ll invite me to your wedding in a few years!" Nina said, tilting her head. "Even though I’m just a little kid, I can see how you look at each other, and you should be nicer to her, like you are to me right now." You nodded in agreement and wanted to rush over to high-five Nina and hug her, but you saw Niki give her hair a playful tug when those words left her mouth.
"Ahia!" she protested, swatting his arm, and Niki’s expression suddenly turned melancholic. He grew serious, and you heard him say:
"Y/n deserves a prince charming like in the fairy tales you read, Nina. She doesn’t deserve someone like me… I’m not what she deserves, and I never will be." He tied off the braids, and those words hit you hard because everyone had warned you to stay away from him, and now even he was saying he wasn’t the guy you deserved. You stood frozen as Nina hugged him, barely reaching his waist, and told him to stop being "the bad guy" just because he had tattoos and a scowl. Niki hugged her back tightly, then took out his phone to show her the braids in the camera.
"They’re beautiful, Niki! Thank you! When I see Y/n, I’ll tell her you did them!" Nina said, giggling as she ran off to find you. Niki shot her a look, calling after her:
"Nina! Don’t you dare tell her I did them!" he yelled as she scampered away laughing, and an involuntary smile tugged at your lips. But that sweet moment was wiped away just hours later.
You were near the showers by the lake when you heard a group of counselors giggling. At the center was Chloe, a head counselor like you, but oozing confidence from every pore. She was touching her lips with a dreamy, almost theatrical air as she told her friends what had happened between her and Niki the night before.
"Girls, I swear, Niki is… unreal," Chloe said, adjusting her low-cut tank top with a practiced gesture to draw the attention of the guys fixing the boats. "Last night, behind the tool shed… we kissed for who knows how long, and girls, I’ve never had a kiss like that. Niki’s rough, and let’s be honest, he always wants to be in control, but he knows exactly what he’s doing with those lips of his, they were practically on my..." She giggled. "I’ve never felt so… dominated before, and you all know I’m usually the one calling the shots with guys!"
You rolled your eyes, trying to push back the sudden sting in your eyelids at the thought of Niki kissing someone else as you walked back to the bungalow, you wondered:
Why do my eyes feel like this?
You were furious with yourself because you knew who Niki was a heartbreaker, a guy who lived for moments, not promises. You didn’t want to fall for him like everyone else… but maybe you already had. And you still had another month and a half of sharing a bungalow with him before returning to Chicago.
A month and a half had passed since the start of summer camp, and some of the kids, along with a few counselors had already headed back to Chicago. Thankfully, Lia had stayed with you for the entire summer. You’d said goodbye to all the kids and some of the counselors, and that very evening, fifteen new kids and four new counselors two guys and two girls had arrived.
Two weeks had passed since John’s arrival, and for Niki, every single second he saw or heard him was a struggle not to roll his eyes. John was the exact type of guy Niki despised: a campus swimmer with a blinding smile straight out of a YouTube ad preview, the kind that made you want to skip the video in the first five seconds. He studied English literature and flaunted quotes from authors who had been dead and buried for centuries. It was infuriating.
As you leaned over to tighten the kids’ life jackets, John hovered around you like always—ever since he’d arrived at camp, he’d had the brilliant idea of positioning himself as the prince charming you supposedly needed.
"Be careful, Y/n, don’t strain your back too much. Let me pull these canoe ropes—I wouldn’t want you to overdo it," John said, resting his hand on your shoulder for a second too long for Niki’s liking. Niki watched with a groan of despair as John flirted like an idiot something he’d been witnessing for days now: John sitting next to you at meals, John constantly finding excuses to touch you (though you were reluctant to his advances). One morning, Niki had even found him standing outside your bungalow at 7:30 AM, flashing that smug smile of his. Niki had wanted to make him disappear in zero seconds.
Let’s just say Niki didn’t like John, and the feeling was mutual. So when John found out you were one of the few girls sharing a room with a guy, he’d insisted on asking for explanations. But you’d told him there was nothing to be done, the pairs were set for the summer, and deep down, you didn’t mind staying with Niki. John, however, wasn’t thrilled with your arrangement, especially since everyone could see—and hear that there was still something unresolved between you two.
On the dock, while Niki waited his turn to get into the canoe with Nina, Lia approached him, thoroughly enjoying the show of his irritation toward you and John, a smirk playing on her lips.
"Mmm, someone here doesn’t seem to tolerate another alpha male in his territory," Lia murmured, crossing her arms as Niki snapped his head toward her, eyes narrowed.
"Mind your own business, Lia. That guy’s just… a loser."
Lia chuckled, watching as Niki couldn’t stop glancing at you for even a second.
"A loser, huh? Well, that ‘loser’ is getting all the attention you used to have just a few weeks ago! When are you going to stop acting like a jerk and show her who you really are? She won’t wait forever, Niki. It’s obvious from a mile away that you feel something for Y/n and it’s definitely not hate… Let’s just say ever since you kissed in that barn, the tension between you two could power the entire camp."
Niki froze for a second at Lia’s words, his expression confused. "How do you know that..." He cut himself off, realizing of course you and Lia were best friends and best friends told each other everything. Niki closed his eyes for a moment, and against his will, his mind played tricks on him, memories flooded back: the feel of your fingers in his hair, the way you’d responded to his kiss with that shy hesitation that had made his heart race, the way you’d clung to himl ike you were afraid he’d disappear from that barn.
When he opened his eyes again and saw how you smiled at that guy, he thought: John doesn’t know and never will what it’s like to feel you tremble when someone kisses you, how good it feels to be touched by you, how beautiful you look beneath him with swollen lips, neither of you able to stop kissing…
"I don’t feel anything for her, Lia. She could start dating that John kid tomorrow, and I wouldn’t care," Niki said, looking down for the first time in minutes and deep down, he didn’t even believe himself. Lia shook her head, looking at him with a pity that made him furious.
"You know, you’re not very good at lying, Niki. I thought you were smarter than this, but you’re just like every other guy in the world: the second you realize you feel something, you refuse to face the consequences. What’s the matter? Afraid that admitting even a scrap of emotion will make your ‘bad boy from Chicago’ aura vanish into thin air?" she taunted.
"You don’t know shit about me, Lia, and it’s better if your best friend stays as far away from me as possible… I’m not the happy-ending type, and she doesn’t need someone like me ruining her life," Niki hissed. Lia started walking toward her canoe but paused to land one last jab.
"Cut the tough-guy act, Niki, because if you keep this up, you’ll end up alone forever and trust me, a life with no one brave enough to love you, and no one you’re brave enough to love, isn’t much of a life. I’ll say it one more time: she won’t wait for you forever, Niki. So make a move, because honestly? I don’t like John either." She gave him a little smirk before walking off, leaving Niki standing there, motionless, as you climbed into the canoe with John’s help—and Niki watched as John’s hand brushed your waist to steady you.
In that moment, Niki didn’t just feel jealousy. He felt something else maybe the realization that he could lose you soon. And Niki wasn’t the type to lose something he wanted.
That evening, Niki was sprawled on his bed which was slightly too small for his height, relaxing and playing on his Nintendo Switch. He tried to focus on the game, but it was getting harder and harder not to steal glances at the creaky bathroom door you both shared. From the other side, your slightly off-key voice drifted out as you sang Legendary Lovers by Katy Perry, laughing between verses. You’d been in there way too long, usually, it took you ten minutes to throw on one of your matching, childish pajama sets after slathering on some weird aloe vera mask from too much sun. But when the door finally swung open, Niki expected to see you in your usual sleepwear.
Instead, you stood there in a short, black, slightly glittery top and a denim skirt that left your tanned legs bare. Your hair wasn’t in its usual braids—it was loose and wild, a mess of curls and waves tumbling over your shoulders. The scent of sakura hit him immediately, now so familiar it felt like home. Without realizing it, he let his Switch slide onto the comforter and propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze locking onto you as you adjusted yourself in front of the mirror.
"Where are you going, Y/n?" Niki asked, already dreading your answer. "As far as I know, there’s no bonfire tonight, and we’ve got to be up at seven tomorrow. Every human on this planet needs at least seven or eight hours of sleep." He mentally cursed himself, him, the guy who spent nights staring at the ceiling because of insomnia, was lecturing you about sleep.
"I’m going out," you said, checking your reflection in the mirror. Niki huffed, sitting up sharply. "I see your observational skills are still top-notch, Shorty. Obviously, you’re going out but where and with who? Not that it takes a genius to figure it out."
You didn’t answer. You were too focused on applying a bit of lip gloss that made your lips look even more tempting than they had that night in the barn. The memory alone made Niki’s fists clench.
"I bet you’re going out with John, huh?" he asked, almost laughing. "What’s the plan tonight? Is he gonna gift you a fairy-tale book or recite some famous 19th-century author to flirt with you?"
You whipped around. "Yes, I’m going out with him, and stop making fun of him. At least he’s kind a concept you struggle to understand, especially when it comes to me." You jabbed a finger at him, and right then, your phone buzzed on the table. A message from John: "I’m here."
When you looked up, Niki’s eyes were still locked on you and you on him. The tension in the room was electric, thick enough to cut with a knife. Neither of you wanted to make the first move. You were both too stubborn, too proud, neither breaking eye contact for even a second until Niki finally spoke:
"Go on, Y/n. Wouldn’t want to keep your dear John waiting. Just remember...midnight curfew, or this bungalow might turn into a pumpkin… and I might turn into something dark." He smirked, and you looked at him with a small smile before heading for the door.
"Don’t worry, Niki. I’ll be back by midnight. And don’t stay up waiting for me."
The door clicked shut behind you, and Niki stayed frozen, listening to the sound of your voice greeting John outside. He dragged a hand down his face, groaning as he flopped back onto the bed, running his fingers through his hair.
Like hell I’m not staying up waiting for you, Wren.
Your date with John was going perfectly...too perfectly, perhaps and that was the main problem. John seemed like the prince charming every mother would dream of for her daughter.
You were sitting on the dock, wrapped in a blanket he had spread out with maniacal precision, surrounded by snacks and drinks arranged like a scene from a 2000s romantic movie. Everything was perfect: fireflies dancing over the water, stars twinkling in the sky, the moon casting a silver glow on the lake, creating an almost fairy-tale atmosphere. John was attentive, kind, funny, and you laughed a lot, he was the kind of guy who could put anyone at ease. For any other girl, this would have been the perfect date. But there was one problem for you: you felt nothing.
There was no tension, no attraction, no shiver running down your spine when someone looked at you in a certain way. John was perfect, yes but too perfect, like a character straight out of a book, one of those flawless ones, without the fire that made you feel alive. You couldn’t stand those kinds of characters because everyone had their demons, and it was beautiful to see people’s vulnerabilities and flaws. But John seemed to have none or he was just really good at hiding them.
"When we get back to Chicago, I’d love for you to come see me compete in the regional swimming championships. And who knows, if I win, I might even get you to wear a hoodie with my name on it," he said, smiling at you. You nodded, smiling back.
"It would be nice to come watch you. I’ve never been to a swimming meet only football or basketball games," you replied, looking around. He nodded.
"Then it’ll be an honor to be the first swimmer you come see at the campus," he said, preening slightly. A moment later, a light breeze picked up, tousling your hair. A few strands fell against your lips, still glossy, and you laughed but at the same time, you looked up, annoyed, because you hated when your hair stuck to your lips. You tried to brush it away, but John was faster. Gently, he leaned in and tucked the strands behind your ear.
"There you go, Y/n," he said, his hands lingering near your face for a second too long. Your eyes met, and in that moment, you thought only one thing:
Don’t kiss me. Don’t kiss me. Don’t kiss me.
But John couldn’t hear your thoughts. For him, this was the climactic moment, like in a romance novel or movie where the two protagonists finally kiss and confess their feelings. He saw you there, cheeks flushed from the wind, hair tousled, illuminated by the moon’s silver reflection on the water and he thought there was no better moment to lean in and kiss you. Without thinking, he slowly leaned toward you, closing his eyes and tilting his face, ready to claim what he thought was a silent invitation but deep down, it wasn’t. You immediately caught the scent of his expensive, good cologne, so different from Niki’s that sharp, spicy peppermint that only he could pull off.
Before John’s lips could brush yours, your body reacted on its own a survival reflex. You jerked upright, the wooden planks creaking under your shoes. When John opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the empty space where your face had been a second before. You stood a step back from him, arms crossed over your chest as if protecting yourself from a closeness you didn’t want. He remained half-reclined on the blanket, wearing the most humiliated, confused expression you’d ever seen on a guy.
"I… I’m sorry, John," you whispered, feeling just as embarrassed. You seriously wished you could vanish right then. "I can’t… I can’t return the kiss or anything else." You took another step back.
"Y/n, wait...did I do something wrong?" he asked, trying to get up, but his voice was thick with the awkwardness of someone who’d just been brutally friend-zoned.
"No, you were perfect," you answered sincerely and it was true. John had been sweet to you from the start, and for any other girl, this date would have been perfect. "I’m the problem, not you. This whole date you planned was magical… but not for that’s the point. I’m sorry, again."
And without giving him a chance to respond, you turned and walked quickly toward the bungalows, not stopping even when you heard your name called faintly in the distance. You kept your head down, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your heart pounding almost relieved that you hadn’t kissed John back and you realized it was pounding because you didn’t want a perfect prince, you wanted a guy with a thousand flaws, a thousand fears of admitting what he truly felt for you.
You tiptoed in, your heart still pounding from your hasty escape from the dock, hoping against hope that Niki had somehow fallen into one of his rare deep sleeps, though you knew there was a 99% chance he was awake (that guy barely slept at all). Your hope died the moment your eyes landed on the fully lit room and his hulking figure.
Niki wasn’t asleep. He was lying on his side, his feet hanging off the edge of the mattress, one hand propping up his blond head, and the other clutching your copy of The Mistake by Elle Kennedy, the cover already creased. Your eyes widened in horror at the sight.
"What the hell are you doing, Niki? Put that book down right now!" you shrieked, your voice shattering the silence as your cheeks burned.
He jolted at the sound of your voice clearly not expecting you back so soon but recovered his usual arrogance in a heartbeat. As you lunged for the book, Niki sat up and lifted his arm toward the ceiling. At over 185 cm tall, reaching it was like trying to scale a skyscraper.
"Damn, it’s not even 11:30, and you’re already back? That date must’ve been a disaster, Shorty!" he chuckled, flashing that infuriating smirk. You wanted to slap him.
"My date is none of your business! Give me back my book, now!" you huffed, rising onto your toes and uselessly trying to climb his solid chest to reclaim your precious paperback—especially since you hoped he hadn’t gotten far enough to read the slightly "spicy" scenes in the early chapters.
"Who would’ve guessed?" he continued, ignoring your desperate attempts. "Y/n, the girl with the perfect braids and the 'good girl' soul that everyone adores, reads what’s basically porn disguised as literature! Does John know? Or does he still think you’re completely innocent?"
You froze, hands pressed to your face to hide your mortification, not just because Niki had discovered your romance novels, but because they weren’t normal romances. No, these had full-on steamy chapters. You were too tired, too confused, too embarrassed by everything that had happened that night, so you snapped:
"Keep the damn book, Niki. Do whatever you want with it. I’m going to change." You threw your hands up in defeat, and Niki’s eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up in shock.
Is she seriously letting me win? Just like that?
But he didn’t let you be. As you stepped into the bathroom to remove your makeup, you heard his footsteps follow you. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his muscular arms over his chest, watching you through the mirror as you nervously wiped away your mascara.
"It must’ve gone really badly if you don’t even have the energy to fight with me, Y/N. Come on, Shorty, tell me. What did that loser do?"
You stayed silent, but he kept teasing you, stepping closer and lowering his head to enter your line of sight. "Come on, Y/N, what did he do to make you come back so early? It hasn’t even been two hours since you left… Honestly, if I had a date with a girl I liked, I’d stay with her all night." He watched you, and you sighed, exhausted by his questions and the whole situation.
"He tried to kiss me, Niki!" you blurted out, spinning around so fast you nearly threw the cotton pad in your hand at him.
For the first time in a long while, the room fell into a deafening silence. Niki’s jaw clenched so hard you saw the muscles in his neck tighten like ropes. His mocking gaze darkened, and he lowered his face slightly, avoiding your eyes for a moment.
"Did you… I mean… did you kiss him back?" he asked quietly. You stayed silent for a few seconds, watching him, and saw a shadow of sadness, something you’d never seen on his face before—cross his features. Niki took your silence as confirmation.
"No, Niki. I didn’t kiss him. In fact, one of the most embarrassing things of my life happened. While he leaned in, thinking he had me, I moved away, and he just sat there with his mouth open like a goldfish, staring at space for what felt like forever until he realized I wasn’t there anymore." You said it all in one breath, and for a full minute, neither of you spoke. Niki brought a hand to his lips, trying to stifle a sound that was half sigh of relief, half hysterical laugh, and tried to speak—but you shot him a glare.
"Now get out of here because I need to change, and I just want to go to sleep. Please don’t ask any more questions, Niki." You pushed him out with all your strength, slamming the door shut and leaning against it.
"Y/n?" he called softly, his tone suddenly serious.
"Go to bed, Niki. Please."
For the first time in weeks, Niki listened. He got into bed and waited for you. When the bathroom door finally reopened, he watched you walk slowly and turn off the small light, letting only the moonlight filtering through the curtains illuminate the room. You slipped under the covers and, for the first time in hours, felt safe maybe even at peace with yourself because Niki was just a few feet away.
"Sweet dreams, Wren," he murmured into the darkness, his voice completely sincere for once.
"Goodnight, Niki," you replied, your mind already sinking into the pillow. Niki waited until he heard your breathing slow and steady, and only then did he close his eyes. And for the first time since he’d arrived in Montana, he fell asleep too maybe because, deep down, he knew you hadn’t kissed that guy back because there was someone else in your heart, and that someone was him.
The wind howled outside the window, and the rain pounded relentlessly against the bungalow’s glass, the distant rumble of thunder stirring a mix of anxiety and drowsy comfort in you. You burrowed deeper under the covers, savoring that moment of peace before reality hit but it didn’t last long—the walkie-talkie every counselor kept on their nightstand screeched to life, and you groaned, stretching out a sleep-heavy arm to grab it, still half-asleep.
As you blinked your eyes open to keep from dropping the device, you saw that Niki was still fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the apocalyptic weather outside. One arm dangled off the bed, and his face was twisted into an adorably childish pout—nothing like the arrogant, athletic guy he pretended to be during activities. The camp director’s voice came through clear and lively, snapping you back to reality, and you tore your gaze away from the guy snoring softly with his mouth open.
"Good morning, everyone," the director’s voice boomed from the walkie-talkie, followed by a chorus of groggy "good mornings" from the other counselors. You mumbled yours, too.
"I think you’ve all heard and seen what’s happening outside your cabins, trees down, the path to the main lodge is completely flooded. Strong wind gusts are expected today and tomorrow, rain for the next three days straight, and a violent thunderstorm with lightning is forecast for late afternoon." As the director spoke, you heard Niki let out a sleepy groan as he began stretching like a cat, his too-long, too-bulky body barely fitting on his bed.
"The kids are safe in the main building with us," the director continued. "Those of you in the bungalows will have to stay inside for at least two days. You’ve all got kitchens and enough food to survive. Stay safe, and please… don’tkill each other if you don’t get along. I know some pairs have… history, but behave, you’re not kids anymore! The radios stay on for emergencies. Have a good day."
Niki opened one eye, then the other, and looked at you, his voice still thick with sleep. "What’d he say?" he mumbled, sinking back into his pillow.
"He said we’re officially prisoners," you replied, staring at the low, gray clouds beyond the window. "Every time it rains, you and I end up stuck sharing the same space. It’s a curse." You pouted slightly, and Niki chuckled, watching you.
"Come on, wren, don’t tell me you’re complaining. Think about it—you could’ve been stuck with John. Having him around 24/7, knowing you’d friend-zone him after two..."
Before he could finish, you grabbed your pillow and hurled it at his face with all your strength. He burst into loud laughter, effortlessly catching it with his annoyingly quick reflexes, the pillow never even grazing his face.
"Please, Niki! Let’s not talk about John or yesterday’s disaster date," you groaned, sinking back into bed and pulling the covers up to your nose. You just wanted to disappear and forget the embarrassment of last night.
Niki stayed quiet for a moment, watching you hiding under the covers, and something in him swelled at how cute you looked. Without thinking, he said:
"What do you say we watch a movie or a show these next few days? We can push the beds together to make one big bed and watch it side by side?" He watched you, clutching the blankets tightly, waiting for an answer.
Your eyes widened from under the covers, a ping of anxiety shooting through you.
What did he mean by this? Did he want to be close to me? Did he want to sleep with me? Or was this just another way to tease me like usual? You wondered, pushing the warm blankets off your body. You saw him watching you and nodded.
"No problem for me. Let’s move them...at least your giant body that’s more like a pole will be more comfortable, and you’ll stop kicking at nothing."
He rolled his eyes at your joke but couldn’t hide a small smile. He got up while you were still sitting on your bed, and with ease, he started shifting the nightstand between you. In just a few minutes, his bed was aligned perfectly with yours, the two now connected with a mountain of shared blankets in the middle.
"First, though, I need to eat," you said, your stomach growling. "Otherwise, the next thunder you hear might be my stomach." You patted your belly, and Niki laughed, taking in the sight of you—hair tousled, way too cute for his own good.
The kitchen was tiny, and every time one of you moved, you bumped elbows or backs into the other. It looked like one of those cute couples from ads, feeding each other—except you two weren’t a couple.
Niki handled the moka pot, while you started slicing strawberries and bananas with surgical precision. He popped bread into the toaster until it was perfectly crisp, then began spreading on a generous layer of Nutella, so much that the edges were already oozing over as you watched him get his fingers messy, you laughed.
"That’s bread with Nutella, Niki, not Nutella with a little bread," you teased, sitting on the counter and swinging your legs.
"Life’s too short to skimp on chocolate, wren!" he shot back, stepping closer to add your strawberries on top of the dark spread.
You and Niki continued eating in an unusual silence for the two of you, broken only by the rumble of thunder and the sound of rain pounding on the tent. Every now and then, your eyes met, only to quickly slide away toward the window, where the clouds were so low it felt like you were in a place that wasn’t quite real a world where it was just the two of you.
As you took the last bite of your second slice of bread and Nutella, you felt his eyes on you. It wasn’t the look of someone who wanted to argue or tease you—there was something almost thoughtful in the way he watched you.
"Wait, you’re messy. Again," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and provocation, pointing to his own lip as a reference for where you should clean. "You really don’t know how to eat like a normal person, do you, Shorty?"
You rolled your eyes, trying to wipe your mouth. "If I’m messy, it means I enjoyed it. Or maybe someone here went way overboard with the Nutella, and that’s why I’m covered in it!" you shot back, trying to clean your lips with your index finger, but all you managed to do was smear the sticky mess even more. Niki let out a sound that was half sigh, half laugh. Without a word, he took two steps forward, then leaned in between your legs, forcing you to tilt your chin up to maintain eye contact. His hair was still a little tousled from the pillow, falling over his forehead in a soft fringe that gave him an almost "good boy" vibe.
Your heart pounded against your chest at his closeness. Niki hadn’t been this close to you since… well, that kiss in the barn.
He raised his hand slowly, as if giving you time to pull away but you stayed still, and you felt the pad of his thumb press against the corner of your mouth. A violent shiver ran down your spine as he traced the entire outline of your lower lip with maddening slowness. Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t look away. A moment later, he pressed his thumb gently against the Nutella smear on your lip, collecting the last trace of chocolate.
"There. All clean, Shorty," he murmured in a husky voice. Then, with a boldness only Niki could pull off, he brought his chocolate-stained finger to his lips and slowly licked it, never breaking eye contact. The intimacy of the gesture so forbidden, so raw—left you stunned, your lips parting slightly in shock.
You and Niki were centimeters apart, and if he had leaned in even a millimeter, your lips would have met again. You swallowed hard, and for a second… you wanted it. You wanted him to do it again but then, like a sudden flash, you remembered all the campus rumors—all the girls he’d looked at with those same eyes, all the girls he’d kissed so you took control of the situation.
"Well… thanks for cleaning me up," you said, your voice trembling slightly. You placed your hands on his chest and gently pushed him away, sliding off the counter in one swift motion.
"I… I’m going to the bathroom for a second, and then yes, we can watch a show. You can even pick it. Happy?" you said, rushing toward the bathroom and shutting the door behind you, pressing your back against it.
Montana had decided to play cruel tricks or maybe it was just trying to force you and Niki together as much as possible. What was supposed to be a brief storm had turned into an endless weather alert: the two days of forced isolation had stretched into four, turning your bungalow into a temporary refuge where you had to coexist with Niki for four straight days without stepping outside.
Incredibly, for forty-eight hours straight, you hadn’t killed each other. In fact, you’d even established a routine, though, of course, the jabs and teasing never stopped. They were what kept the electricity in the bungalow alive. Niki had teased you all through the first night after you, terrified by the thunder and jump scares from the horror movie he had insisted on watching (you cursed yourself for letting him pick), had spent the night wide-eyed until 3 AM until Niki, in the dark, had reached out and let you grip his strong fingers until you finally fell asleep. The next morning, his hand was still entwined with yours, and both of you had shifted closer in the bed.
You, of course, hadn’t let up on how useless he was in the kitchen, the man would’ve survived on instant ramen for all four days if you hadn’t been there. He had the uncanny ability to make even the water in the kettle disappear if you weren’t careful. But thanks to you, you ate normally. By the third day, you were exhausted from being so close to him, so you decided to hide in the bathroom for a regenerating shower, and honestly, you got lost in your thoughts, taking advantage of a lull in the lightning to truly relax—maybe even staying under the water a little too long.
When you finally stepped out, wrapped in steam, your eyes widened in horror when you saw that where you swore you’dleft your change of clothes for the night, there were only your panties. No shirt, no pants...nothing.
You swallowed hard, realizing you had to get out somehow, and you definitely weren’t calling Niki, he’d never let you live it down. So, carefully, you opened the door to Niki’s closet, which was right there within reach. It was filled with his "organized chaos" a system only he understood. Without overthinking it, you grabbed a deep burgundy T-shirt of his that smelled like him and tried on his pants but they were comically huge. The shirt, however, reached mid-thigh, and you thought:
Whatever. It’s only five steps to my closet. He won’t even notice I’m wearing his shirt.
You dried your hair, applied your sakura-scented cream, smelling of spring and cherry blossoms and opened the door. A wave of that fragrance immediately filled the bungalow, but your heart stopped when you saw Niki. He wasn’t at his PC, wasn’t playing his Switch, he was lying on the bed, his back against the wall, and in his hands was your Elle Kennedy book… that book… the one with the colorful Post-its marking the spiciest scenes.
"Niki, put that book down!" you squealed, your voice cracking with embarrassment. He burst out laughingm but when he looked up, his eyes weren’t on the pages anymore. They were locked on you on his burgundy shirt clinging to your body, on your bare legs, still warm from the shower, radiating heat and scent. You tried to lunge for the book, but with his lightning reflexes, he lifted his arms above his head. So you stood on your toes, pressing your body against his in an attempt to reach it but you heard Niki swallow loudly. You were so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, and you realized the shirt was riding up dangerously as you stretched.
"Niki, stop reading that thing! Give it back!"
"And why should I? It’s a good book," he said, his voice rough. "Every time I read further, I find scenes that are… decidedly spicy… scenes that you, the good girl you pretend to be, act like you don’t understand, right, Wren?"
You kept struggling until, with a sharp motion, he tossed the book onto the floor. You glared at him with pure hatred.
"Oh my God, I can’t stand you, Niki! You always have to snoop, you always have to touch my things! I don’t touch yours! I never touch the stupid drawings that you guard like a relic! And I don’t know how we’ve gone two days without fighting, you’re insufferable!" you shouted, turning your back on him to rush and pick up the book from the floor. But he moved faster, blocking you before you could bend down and this time, he wasn’t laughing.
"You’re insufferable too, Y/N!" he shouted back. "I can’t stand the way you look at me. I can’t stand when you pretend not to realize how damn hard it is for me to be locked in here with you 24/h, I can’t stand my own head, always bringing me back to you, making me imagine what you’d be like if you were really mine and I can’t stand that you play innocent and then read these stories where the characters do everything because it’s driving me crazy!"
He took a step forward, looming over you, and you stayed frozen, staring at him.
"I can’t stand seeing you in my clothes because I want to see you in them all the time, to mark you as mine but at the same time, I want to rip them off you and I hate....I hate with every part of me seeing you with other guys, especially that loser John. I can’t stand you because from the first moment I saw you in this damn summer camp, the only thing I wanted was for you to be mine and the worst punishment they could’ve given me was making me live with you, Y/n."
He said it all in one breath, and the silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of the rain. Niki shot you one last burning glance, then turned toward the kitchen, heading straight for the exit door. He wanted to leave, to run out into the storm rather than face what he’d just confessed and you hated his completely bipolar personality.
But you couldn’t let him go, not after that. You were tired of this situation, and before his hand could grab the doorknob, you reached him and grabbed his wrist tightly.
"Don’t you dare walk away from me, Niki," you whispered, your voice low. "Don’t you dare leave me here after saying all that."
Without hesitation, you rose onto your toes, your fingers gripping the fabric of his burgundy shirt at his chest, and timidly pulled him toward you, pressing your lips against his. For a moment, Niki stayed frozen, surprised by your boldness so far outside your comfort zone but then, as if an electric shock had jolted him awake, he took control, not wasting a second to claim what he’d wanted for so long.
His hand slid possessively over your side, his long, warm fingers pressing into your skin through the thin fabric, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. With his other hand, he cupped your cheek, his thumb gently tracing your soft skin in a way that stole your breath. The kiss shifted instantly, no longer the awkward, hesitant one from the barn. Now, it was passionate, desperate, as if both of you had been craving this for far too long. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers burying into his still-damp hair, while he leaned down slightly, erasing every last centimeter of distance between you.
His tongue insistently traced the outline of your lips, teasing, asking for access and you granted it with a deep sigh that sent shivers through Niki. When his tongue finally slid against yours, the kiss deepened, and the only sounds in the bungalow were the patter of rain, the howl of the wind, and your ragged breaths.
Niki let out a low, rough chuckle against your lips at the sound of your sigh, and he couldn’t wait to hear you moan in pleasure, to see you vulnerable and responsive under his touch.
"God, you drive me crazy, wren…" he murmured between kisses, before playfully nipping at your lower lip.
"Niki…" you moaned softly, almost worried someone might hear. His name slipped from your lips in a way that was so sweet, yet so sexy, it made him shiver for a moment. Usually, when you said his name, it was to tease or scold him, but now… now, you were saying it because yes, he was teasing you but in a way he wanted to do every day, to kiss you, to drive you wild with his touch.
Niki pulled back slightly, your faces just centimeters apart, and sighed near your lips:
"Tell me it’s the same for you, Y/n. Tell me," he demanded, slowly pushing you backward toward the sleeping area. A few moments later, your knees hit the edge of the "super-bed", and you tumbled onto the mattress, pulling him down with you. Niki positioned himself above you, supporting himself on his forearms so as not to crush you, while you kept your arms locked around his neck.
You tried to kiss him again, but he pulled back with a challenging smirk.
"No, no. I’ve laid my cards on the table, wren… now it’s your turn. Otherwise, we’ll stay like this all night… or all day tomorrow until you talk." He grinned, and the silence grew heavy again until Niki decided to torture you further, lowering himself slowly and pressing his lips against the warm, sensitive skin of your neck.
"N-Niki… please…" You whispered, tilting your head to give him more space.
"You speak just fine when you want to, Y/n, too well, in fact," he murmured against your skin, alternating wet kisses with playful nips of his teeth. "So tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, or we’re not going anywhere."
You clung to his biceps, feeling the strength of his muscles under your fingers, and tugged lightly at his hair to get his attention.
"Fine! Fine, you win!" you blurted out in one breath. "I can’t stand you either, Niki. Everyone, every single person told me to stay away from you, that you were trouble, and maybe you still are. But fate decided to be ironic and stuck us in this bungalow for the whole summer… At first, I really couldn’t stand you: you were grumpy, arrogant, you teased me every second, and you were way too bipolar for my taste!" You said it all in one rush, and he chuckled against your skin, his lips placing light kisses as they traveled up toward your jaw while his hand slid under the hem of your shirt, stopping at the bare curve of your waist. You bit your lip to hide how much you liked his touch—too much for your own good.
"Keep going, Y/n. Don’t stop now," he murmured against your ear, and you lifted your eyes, feeling vulnerable but determined to say what you felt.
"You win, Niki. Ever since you kissed me in that barn, everything changed… My feelings went out of control for you. And just like you hate John… I… I hated hearing the other counselors talk about you, hated hearing how good you were at kissing, or how they wanted to get your attention or end up in your bed. And yes, I’ll admit it, it drove me crazy with jealousy. So yes… what do you feel? That’s exactly what I feel."
You lowered your gaze, unable to hold his, afraid for a second that he might laugh at you or go back to being his usual cynical self. But instead, you felt his fingers gently lift your chin, and when you met his eyes again, you saw something different in his gaze. He leaned toward you, stopping a breath away from your lips.
"We’ve been two stubborn fools for not realizing this sooner, Y/n," he murmured, his breath mingling with yours. "And I don’t intend to waste any more time. We’ve figured out we like each other, and that’s all that matters in this damn bungalow but don’t think I’ll stop giving you a hard time," he added, pinching your side lightly to make you flinch. "We’ll never stop cursing each other out, right?"
You laughed and pulled him closer, nodding fiercely. "Never, Niki. I’ll never stop teasing you or busting your balls."You caressed his cheek, and he smiled against your lips a real, bright smile you’d never seen on him before and kissed you again, but this time more gently, as if he wanted to seal every word you’d just said into his memory.
That evening, you were tangled in the blankets of your "super-bed," kissing until your lips were tender, alternating between kisses and long moments of silent gazes while a K-drama played on the screen. Niki, who had initially pretended to watch it just to humor you, ended up being the most invested in the plot, commenting on every twist and teasing how obvious it was which of the two protagonists would fall in love first. He mocked how cliché and over-the-top it all was just to make any girl dream but even he couldn’t hide his interest.
But after a couple of episodes, you yawned for the tenth time in half an hour, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.
"What a lightweight you are, Wren," Niki muttered, rolling his eyes with an amused smirk. "It’s barely 10 PM, and you’re already crashing. Are you really just a little girl who needs her beauty sleep, or do you turn into a grump without it?" He watched as you snuggled deeper into the warm blankets and muggled into them.
"A lightweight? Please. It’s a talent not everyone has, to fall asleep in a minute and sleep more than eight hours,"you replied, your voice already thick with sleep as you settled more comfortably against the pillow. "I love sleeping, and I love going to bed early. It’s a natural gift." You closed your eyes slightly but could still feel his gaze on you, almost like a physical sensation.
"Stop staring at me, Niki," you mumbled, keeping your eyes shut.
"And how do you know I’m staring at you if your eyes are closed? Do you have psychic powers, Wren?" he shot back, amused.
At that, you suddenly opened your eyes wide and caught him red-handed. Niki, with his lightning reflexes, quickly shifted his gaze to the wooden wall as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world, but a guilty little smirk gave him away.
"Busted!" you exclaimed in a whisper, stretching a hand under the blankets. Your fingers searched for his, and almost playfully, you brushed the back of his hand. He stayed still for a second, didn’t fully intertwine his fingers with yours, but he didn’t pull away either. You felt his warmth blend with yours, and then he squeezed your hand.
"Mmm… I was thinking about that night you held my hand because you 'knew I was scared of horror movies'…"you started, teasing him with a sly expression. "Admit it, it was just a pathetic excuse to get a little physical contact with me. The camp’s bad boy needed to hold my hand?" You laughed, feeling his grip tighten slightly. He huffed, trying to pull away, but you were faster. You grabbed his hand firmly and pressed it against your chest, holding it tight over your irregularly beating heart.
"Shut that mouth of yours, wren, and go to sleep, or I’ll throw you out of bed," he grumbled, but he made no move to take his hand back. Instead, you felt his thumb gently trace the warm skin of the back of your hand, and you chuckled softly, savoring that moment of pure sweetness.
"Goodnight, Ki," you said but before drifting off completely, you did something you would’ve never dared just a few days ago—maybe it was the coziness of the bungalow that gave you courage. With a quick movement, you propped yourself up slightly on your elbows and, in a move that would’ve shocked your past self, you leaned toward him and planted a quick kiss just under his chin, right where a new mole was. Then, as if nothing had happened, you burrowed back under the covers, pulling them up over your nose to hide the triumphant smile lighting up your face.
From your privileged position, you caught a glimpse of his face through a gap in the blankets. Niki was literally stunned, his usually teasing eyes wide as they stared at you, his jaw slightly slack, and a faint, almost invisible blush tinting his cheekbones. You heard him sigh as he, too, closed his eyes, continuing to gently stroke the palm of your hand until you both sank into a deep sleep almost completely tangled together, hands still intertwined.
The fourth day of isolation began with the same terrible weather as the day before, and Montana showed no signs of letting up. The sky was still heavy with rain, and every so often, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed through the windows.
After a lazy breakfast filled with whispered laughter and lingering glances, you finished the TV series marathon you’d both enjoyed. Niki, using the excuse that he hadn’t slept well all summer, finally gave in to exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep that afternoon.
He’d dozed off with one arm possessively wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, and you’d never have guessed, seeing him up close like this how much he looked like a puppy while he slept. At the same time, you couldn’t help but notice how much he needed to touch you. You’d already realized back in the barn that Niki loved physical contact with you, but after yesterday, he hadn’t stopped resting a hand on your waist while you cooked, playing with your loose hair, tracing circles on your palm, or kissing you casually. And deep down, you loved this side of him that he only showed to you.
You stayed awake, your heart still beating a little faster from his closeness, and finally picked up The Mistake by Elle Kennedy again. For over an hour, the only sounds in the bungalow were the rustle of pages and Niki’s steady breathing against your shoulder as he napped. You were completely absorbed in Logan and Grace’s story, chuckling to yourself at Logan’s ridiculous lines and underlining the most iconic scenes the book was now covered in colorful Post-its peeking out from the edges.
"I’m going back to sleep for a bit, and of course, you’ve used that as an excuse to get further into this porn disguised as romance!"
Niki’s sleep-thickened voice made you jump, and you instinctively pressed the book to your face to hide your guilty expression. He unwound his arm from around you, stretching lazily, his hair falling over his forehead. When his eyes landed on the book, a crooked smirk tugged at his lips as he took in the avalanche of new Post-its you’d added since the last time he’d seen it.
"Come on, Wren, don’t play innocent," he said, rolling onto his side to get a better look at you. "Admit you like it and admit you don’t just like it because it’s a 'romance,' but because of those spicy scenes you’d love to try for the first time in your life." He chuckled, and you let the book slide just enough for him to see your eyes a mix of embarrassment and something else.
Your cheeks were a soft pink, a stark contrast to the burgundy of his shirt, which you were still wearing. Niki thought you looked beautiful, but most of all, he thought your little pout was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
"Niki, spicy scenes are in every book these days," you shot back, trying to sound confident. "You shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not as innocent as you think. Okay, fine, I haven’t had… direct experience… but I know what happens between a man and a woman when they like each other. So…"
Before you could finish, Niki lunged at you with feline speed, closing the distance between you. His face was a breath away from yours, but instead of kissing your lips, he diverted to your earlobe, brushing it lightly with his lips.
"And what do you know, Wren?" he whispered. "Come on, tell me what you’d want the guy you like… who happens to be me… to do." He added that last part with the arrogance that usually made you furious but now, it just made you shiver.
You rolled your eyes, muttering that he was getting too full of himself, but your knuckles were white from how tightly you were gripping the book’s cover.
"Come on, Y/n," he insisted, his voice rough. "Tell me what those two protagonists do… what you’d want you and me to… replicate?"
You swallowed hard, feeling how much Niki was teasing you, pushing you. "I… I’d like to be kissed in other places… not just on the mouth," you confessed, closing your eyes.
Niki smiled against your skin, and you felt the warm, wet pressure of his lips just below your jaw, a slow kiss that traveled up toward your ear. "Keep going," he urged, still teasing.
"I’d like… yes, for your hands to touch me in places no one ever has… and at the same time…" You paused, feeling your cheeks burn. "I’d like to kiss you in a very specific spot."
Niki froze for a second at your words, his mind racing through all the possible scenarios of where you might want to kiss him. You heard him swallow hard, one eyebrow arching in an expression somewhere between disbelief and ecstasy.
"And where would you like to kiss me?"
You lifted a trembling finger and pressed it just below his waist, on the left side right where the lip-shaped tattoo marked his skin, just above the waistband of his pants. "Here."
Niki stared at you in silence for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. You looked at him with a slightly offended pout, but he never took his eyes off you. Still watching you, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and, in one fluid motion, pulled it off, tossing it somewhere onto the bed. You were left breathless at the sight of his defined biceps, sculpted chest dusted with ink, and that perfectly chiseled V-line that looked like it had been drawn by an artist obsessed with his muse and then there was the lip tattoo, now fully exposed in front of you. Niki sat properly in front of you, legs spread apart, hands resting on his thighs as he tapped his fingers lightly, fixing you with a small smirk.
"Come here, wren," he murmured.
You shifted cautiously, feeling a mix of vulnerability and nervousness, but deep down, you trusted Niki. You positioned yourself straddling him, and the physical contact was immediate, your bare thighs against the fabric of his pants, his large hands gripping your hips to pull you even closer between you.
Niki tilted his head back, watching you, and found you adorable in your hesitation, unable to meet his gaze.
"Come on, Wren… don’t be afraid. Show me what you want to do," he murmured, his voice rough. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your fingers in his messy hair, and leaned down slowly. You caught the scent of your sakura-scented body wash on his skin and chuckled before beginning to place small, chaste kisses, almost shyly, starting from the base of his jaw and working your way down to his prominent collarbone. But when you felt Niki’s hands tighten on your hips, almost begging for more pressure, your courage grew. Driven by newfound confidence, you began to suck lightly on his fair skin, alternating kisses with playful nips. Niki let out a stifled moan as his head fell back further against the headboard, his skin already flushing redder than usual. You smirked to yourself, thinking that maybe tomorrow, the other girls would notice that this guy was secretly yours.
"Fuck, Wren…" he breathed, his voice ragged. You found a sensitive spot just below his earlobe, and when you nipped at it, you felt him shiver beneath you. You smiled against his skin because you’d discovered his secret, you’d found a spot where he was weak, and you couldn’t wait to uncover what other places would make him beg and lose control.
You leaned down further, exploring his sculpted, ink-stained chest. The yellow light in the room made every muscle, every defined line from his summer of hard work stand out, and when your kisses reached his nipples, your curiosity took over. You licked one with the tip of your tongue, and Niki jolted because damn, he hadn’t expected that from you… No one had, honestly, given how "pure" you seemed in everyone’s eyes. He gently grabbed your hair, pulling just enough to force you to lift your gaze and meet his desire-clouded eyes.
"Don’t stop… please, keep going," he begged, and that plea in his usually gruff voice made you feel incredibly powerful. So you continued to tease him, alternating your tongue with deep kisses, until your hands slid down his tight abs, feeling how hard they were, like marble, under your fingertips. You paused for a moment, biting your lower lip as you admired the masterpiece of a body that looked like it had been drawn by an obsessed artist.
"You’re really beautiful, Niki," you whispered, slightly embarrassed but also aware of what you were saying to the guy in front of you. Niki’s breath caught in his throat because he was used to the easy compliments from campus girls, the empty words whispered in hallways. But hearing it from you—while you looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world—had a devastating effect on him. For the first time, he felt something unravel inside him, and he didn’t know if it was desire, love, or what he felt for you in that moment. But he didn’t mock you. Instead, he gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, looking at you softly and it was a new feeling for both of you.
"Y-You… you shouldn’t say things like that to me, Wren," he said, playing with your hair.
"Could you… lie down a little, Ki?" you asked, using the nickname that made him smile. He slid down the bed, propping himself up on his elbows to stay partially raised, desperate not to miss a single moment of what you were about to do because he was genuinely curious to see what you’d come up with. You tucked your hair behind your ears, and such a simple gesture made him swallow hard. With slightly trembling fingers, you hooked the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down a few centimeters, revealing the elastic waistband of his boxers—and right next to it, the red lip tattoo that had haunted your forbidden dreams for weeks. Niki let out a low whistle, trying to regain his usual cockiness.
"Well, well… the good girl’s aiming straight for the forbidden zone. Are you sure you can handle what you’ll find down there, Wren?"
You shot him one last challenging look before pressing your lips right over that tattoo, and the contact of your mouth with the warm skin of his lower abdomen silenced him instantly.
Niki clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the sheets, overwhelmed by the sight of you curled between his legs, kissing that intimate mark with devotion. Small shivers ran through his entire body.
You began to trace its outline with the tip of your tongue, lingering on the warm skin that pulsed with every touch, and Niki let out a beautiful moan as his back arched slightly off the mattress. You smiled against his skin because the camp’s "bad boy" was melting under your simple touch.
You moved lower, placing small, wet kisses just below his navel, brushing against the gray cotton edge of his boxers. Every movement you made, innocent on the surface but designed to drive him wild—and every time your body pressed against his thighs as you straddled him, you felt his erection grow harder, more insistent, pulsing against you.
"Fuck, Wren… you’re killing me," he cursed, his voice rough. Every time you placed small kisses right below the edge of his boxers, he couldn’t stay still because your lips always sought out his most sensitive spots, and he was reaching his limit.
"I don’t think you’re ready for a blowjob, Y/n… and if you keep this up, I’ll lose control. How about you stop teasing me and let… let me take charge? You’ve provoked me enough, little one. Earlier, you said you wanted to be kissed elsewhere… where?" he almost stammered, his voice shaking from how close he was to coming like a teenager if you kept teasing him with your movements and kisses. His hands slid down your thighs, squeezing them lightly in a possessive gesture that stole your breath.
"Look how you’re trembling… does it turn you on to know I’m the one affecting you like this? The guy you’re supposed to hate, the one you’re supposed to stay away from?"
You nodded as you sucked on the fair skin of his lower abdomen, instinctively tightening your thighs around his hips. Niki cursed again, his hand sliding up your thigh and squeezing the flesh with just enough pressure.
He gently rolled you onto your back, stretching you out on the "super-bed," and took a second to adjust his boxers before positioning himself above you, looming over you with his muscular frame. But he kept himself propped up on his forearms, careful not to crush you, and traced the edge of your lips with his thumb, his expression suddenly serious and protective.
"First of all… are you sure you want this? Sure you want me to touch you?"
"Yes," you answered, and he smiled—but it was a different kind of smile. There was no trace of teasing, no hint of the guy who loved to rile you up. Just a softness you’d never have associated with the Niki everyone described.
"I know no one’s ever touched you before, Wren. And I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything. We’ll use three colors, okay? Like a traffic light. Green if you’re good, yellow if you’re embarrassed or want to slow down, and red if you want me to stop immediately. No pressure, got it?" He caressed your cheek as he spoke, and you were struck by how this rebel without rules was now the guy trying to make you feel safe and comfortable.
"It’s perfect," you whispered. Niki leaned down and stole a soft, chaste kiss before his hands slid under the burgundy shirt you were wearing. You felt his large, rough hands against your smooth, warm skin, and it was as if they were made to fit perfectly around your hips. He began lifting the fabric centimeter by centimeter, revealing your sun-kissed stomach, and murmured:
"You’re so soft…" He leaned down to kiss your skin, alternating gentle kisses with light sucks that made you gasp, and used the tip of his tongue to tease your ribs, making you let out small, muffled moans—part pleasure, part tickle.
"Color, Y/N?" he asked against your skin.
"Green…" you stammered, burying your fingers in his blond hair and pulling him closer.
"Can I play with your breasts?" he asked hopefully, his hand already toying with the hem of your shirt. The embarrassment was off the charts, but the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious, desirable thing in the world gave you the courage to nod.
"Green," you answered, and he chuckled. "That’s my good girl."
You pushed the shirt up over your collarbones, letting the fabric bunch under your chin. When your breasts were finally free, the dim light accentuated every curve of your beautiful body. Niki’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the contrast between your Montana-tanned skin and the pale, almost crescent-moon shape where your bikini had protected you all summer.
Niki had always thought you had a gorgeous body, but he hadn’t realized how much and he ran a hand through his hair.
"Fuck, Wren…" he cursed under his breath, his eyes devouring every inch of you. "You’re… you’re stunning."
He didn’t waste time. Like a man devoted to you, he cupped your breasts with his large hands. The contrast between the softness of your skin and the roughness of his calloused palms marked from summer work and weights made you let out a deep sigh. With one hand, he began torturing your right breast, using his thumb to press and roll your hardened nipple, while his mouth descended on the left one. The heat of his tongue enveloping the sensitive tip made you arch your back, and Niki sucked hard, sending electric shocks straight to your core for the first time. Without meaning to, you pushed your hips upward, unconsciously seeking contact with his hard, pulsing length pressing against his boxers, right against your thin lace panties.
"Ah… Niki…" you panted, digging your fingers into his blond hair and pulling him closer. He responded with a moan, loving how close you were.
"Christ, how the hell did I go all summer without putting my hands on you?" he muttered as his left hand squeezed your breast a little too eagerly, his possessive grip making you gasp.
"K-Keep going… but gentler on the left, Ki… I’m really sensitive there… my period’s coming soon." You stammered, and Niki lifted his gaze, his lips glistening, as he continued teasing your clit through your panties and squeezing your breast. A playful grin spread across his face.
"Fuck, that’s why they’re so full and hard…" he murmured, then began tracing slow circles with his tongue around your areola, blowing on it between kisses, savoring your endless shivers. After what felt like forever, he moved lower, licking the underside of your breast with long, deliberate strokes of his tongue, then climbing back up to nip at the pink bud with extreme care.
While his mouth made you feel so good, his hand slid down your smooth thigh. You felt his fingers creep up centimeter by centimeter, tickling the inside of your thigh and making your legs tremble, almost closing on instinct because no one had ever touched you there before.
"Color, Wren?" he whispered against your skin.
"Green…" you managed to gasp as he chuckled softly, his fingers not stopping, they slid under the elastic edge of your panties, finding you already wet and warm. Niki let out a sound of pure approval at how excited you already were, knowing it was all because of him, and that no one else would ever have this privilege in his life.
"Fuck, Shorty… you’re already ready for me," he murmured as his middle finger began rubbing your clit through your damp panties.
Your body arched with a jolt, overwhelmed by a pleasure so intense it was almost too much to handle. To increase the pressure, Niki pushed his hips forward, grinding his hard length against your still-covered core, and you let out a loud moan that filled the room. Embarrassed, you immediately clapped your hands over your mouth to stifle the sound, but Niki stopped, grabbing your wrists and pulling them away from your face, fixing you with an almost fierce intensity.
"No, no, little one… be a good girl and let me hear everything," he said, his voice rough. "I want to hear you moan, I want to hear you scream if that’s what you need. No one can hear us, remember? There’s only the storm outside… it’s just you and me here. So please, don’t feel embarrassed if you want to moan my name...it’s beautiful."
He returned his focus to your breasts, alternating hungry licks with gentle sucks on the lower curve. When he pulled away for a second, he noticed a small purple mark beginning to form on your fair skin. He thought about how he’d love to cover you in these marks, but he knew that soon you’d be back in your swimsuit or canoeing, so he’d save that for later.
His hands slid back to your hips, gripping them tightly, while his fingers inside your panties increased their rhythm.
"Green or yellow, Wren?" he asked.
"Green… please, green," you whispered, feeling him tease the edge of your panties. Niki pulled the thin lace asidewith a slowness that drove you wild, letting the cool air of the bungalow brush against your exposed, aroused skin. When his thumb made direct contact with your clit, the world around you seemed to dissolve—you’d never felt anything like this before, and it was so good.
"Tongue or fingers, Wren?" he whispered, and your eyes widened in surprise at his bluntness.
"I… I trust you. You choose," you said, embarrassed by his question. Niki lifted himself slightly on his arms, studying your expression as he saw how you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him at first.
"Green or yellow, Y/N?" he asked, stroking your cheek. You bit your lower lip, feeling the heat spread all the way to your ears from embarrassment.
"Green… it’s just that I’ve never done anything like this before."
He nodded, and with a gentle motion, he leaned down to place a chaste, reassuring kiss on your forehead, and that touch made you melt.
"Relax. I’ll make you feel good, Wren. Whatever you say, I’ll stop instantly, okay?"
With a fluid motion, he pulled your panties off completely, tossing them somewhere unknown. When his eyes fell on your swollen, glistening intimacy, he let out a deep breath and leaned down, blowing lightly on your clit, making you jolt from the contrast. Then, he gently spread your legs, draping them over his shoulders. For the first time in your life, you were completely exposed, vulnerable under his gaze. Without another word, his warm tongue dove into your clit, and you moaned instantly—it was a strange, wet, completely new sensation, and you finally understood why all the girls said they loved foreplay with guys.
"Fuck, you taste so good…" he cursed against your skin, continuing to tease you with small, circular licks in figure-eights, alternating pressure until you arched your back against the mattress. Feeling you were ready, Niki slid a finger between your folds, and you tensed instinctively, clenching your muscles. He stopped immediately, feeling his finger fully inside you.
"Relax, little one. It’ll be okay. Let me take care of you," he murmured.
You nodded, trying to regulate your breathing, and when his finger slowly slid in centimeter by centimeter, a sense of fullness you’d never felt before flooded you.
"Fuck, you’re so tight… you’re swallowing my finger, Wren," he said as he began to move it in a rhythm that made you tremble, sliding in and out with a patience that was driving you mad—because you wanted more, but you were too shy to ask for it. But Niki understood instantly.
"Can I slide another one in?" he asked, his eyes fixed on yours as they rolled back. You nodded frenetically, unable to speak.
"Good girl… I knew deep down you were this good, that you’d like these slightly dirty things," he teased, and when his middle finger, marked by small calluses from summer work, slid in beside the other, you screamed his name.
"Niki!" Your hands flew to his hair, pulling at it for support as he began to pump with more vigor.
"Damn, Y/n… you’re taking me so well…" he cursed, savoring the sound of your moans, which grew sharper and sharper. He began to coordinate his movements: while his fingers worked inside you with decisive thrusts, his mouth returned to your clit, sucking and licking in sync with his fingers to give you even more pleasure. That double stimulation made you lose all contact with reality, and you screamed even louder, your legs trembling on his shoulders
Niki manipulated you, both mentally and physically with expert precision, slowing down just as you were about to shatter, only to watch you beg for him. His fingers pumped deeper inside you, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision, and his voice was a dark, velvety whisper against your skin.
"Look at you, Shorty. Look how well you take me… were you born to be like this under me, huh?"
Shivers raced up your spine, and an unbearable heat spread through your body. You gasped, tears pricking at your eyes from the frustration of pleasure as he continued to tease you, his fingers pumping harder inside you while his teeth grazed your clit just enough to drive you wild.
"Ki… please… I… I need to come!" you cried, your voice breaking.
But instead of giving you what you craved, he smirked that infuriating, arrogant smirk—the one you usually hated but now loved—and rather than letting you climax, he used his teeth to tease your clit while his fingers pumped even deeper, searching for that most sensitive spot inside you.
"You want to come, little one? Then take it."
He thrust his fingers harder, now that your body had adjusted to their size, with a frenetic rhythm that gave you no escape. And then—you came, screaming his name, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Niki loved how his name sounded on your lips, how one hand was fisted in his hair while the other clawed at the sheets, nearly tearing them. Your body convulsed in endless spasms, your arousal dripping down his fingers and thighs but he didn’t stop.
While you were still riding the high of your orgasm, he leaned down and licked away every trace of your pleasure, the intensity making you whimper.
"It’s too much… Niki, stop, it’s too much!" you sobbed, but he lifted his head just enough to lick you again, murmuring:
"It’s never too much for you, Wren. Look how you’re trembling… you’re pathetic and beautiful at the same time."His hand gripped you possessively, pulling you flush against him. "Do you really think I’d let you rest now, after showing you how good your body can feel?"
And that night, with only the storm’s roar breaking the silence, Niki kept his promise: he gave you no mercy, pushing you to the edge two more times until you were nothing but a trembling, whimpering mess, obsessed with his touch, your body singing his name like a prayer.
When everyone woke up at dawn on the fifth day, the Montana sky was finally a brilliant, cloudless blue, streaked only by the chirping of birds. As the bungalow doors swung open, everyone breathed in that crisp air and the scent of wet pine and fresh grass the kind everyone loved.
The general gathering in the sports pavilion was a chaos of voices and laughter from the kids, who had been cooped up in the dorms with emergency activities. They were all excited to run and bicker with each other again. You smiled as Nina came sprinting toward you and Niki, hugging you both and complaining about how boring it had been to be stuck inside 24/7 with the other kids.
Thankfully, the damage had been minimal: a few broken branches had fallen, there were piles of pine needles and dead leaves forming slippery carpets, and a couple of clotheslines had blown away.
But the real surprise, the one everyone was whispering about and that had shocked even the counselors and camp directors was Niki. He was no longer the sullen guy who ignored everyone, shooting hateful glares at anyone who dared breathe in his direction. He was… softer? He’d always been good with the kids, but now, with the other counselors, you noticed he talked, helped, even smiled without grumbling. Sure, he wasn’t suddenly a ray of sunshine, but most of all, he seemed to have a magnet pulling him constantly into your orbit.
He teased you endlessly: if you were carrying a bucket, he’d tap the back of your knee to throw you off balance, and the kids would giggle every time they saw you two bickering from morning to night. If you were talking to another counselor, he’d insert himself into the conversation even if it had nothing to do with him. Sometimes, you’d even steal the sticks he’d just picked up, only to drop them again while he gathered more from another spot. When he’d look up, you’d just shrug, but every time your eyes met, there was a secret in his gaze—the memory of those nights in the bungalow, getting to know each other, teasing, touching.
In the afternoon, while you were setting up for the bonfire you’d all agreed to have that evening—a way to finally reunite everyone—you were arranging chairs in a circle. The heat was starting to build, so you stepped behind the tool shed to find some shade and water. But before you could take three steps, a strong hand grabbed your arm, pulling you behind the shed, into the shadows of the wood and foliage. Niki leaned over you, his hands settling on your hips.
"Hey, wren," he murmured with a smug grin. You looked around in terror, afraid a kid or worse, the camp director might appear around the corner.
"Niki! What are you doing? If someone sees us...."
"I’ve been trying to get you alone all day. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this," he said, reaching out to gently tug one of your braids, watching as your face flushed a deep pink but suddenly, you felt bold. You rolled your eyes, placing your hands on his bare chest under his open shirt.
"Mmm, so the big bad boy of summer camp misses his… girlfriend?" you teased, and the words "his girlfriend"hung between you, heavy and new. Niki flinched, he’d never thought you’d actually become his girl, and he your boy. He didn’t answer right away, but his eyes lit up with a new light, and with a fluid, decisive motion, he pushed you back against the rough wooden planks of the shed, pinning you with his body.
"Shut up, Wren," he murmured, his lips a millimeter from yours.
"Who would’ve thought," you chuckled, rising onto your toes to bury your fingers in his wind-tousled blond hair. "The guy who loved keeping to himself, who was grumpy all the time… needs attention?" You teased him, and before you could finish, he leaned in and kissed you possessively.
Your arms wrapped around his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And Niki wasn’t shy: as his tongue slid between your lips, claiming you, his right hand slid down, slipping into the back pocket of your jeans with a possessive grip, squeezing your flesh and lifting you slightly against him so you could feel just how reactive he was to your touch. His other hand pressed into your side.
"Fuck, I’ve missed you… you have no idea," he growled against your mouth. You smiled against his lips, nipping lightly at his lower lip, enjoying the small shudder it pulled from him. But just as the atmosphere was about to get too heated, the sharp sound of breaking branches and the laughter of approaching kids reached you from just a few meters away. With a jolt of panic, you pushed him away, trying to compose yourself as your heart pounded too hard. Niki took a step back, chuckling as he watched you reclaim your "good girl" aura.
"We… we should go help the others," you murmured, trying to regain a professional tone. "Otherwise, they’ll get suspicious… The director already has her eye on you for how much you’ve changed these past few days."
He nodded but didn’t take his eyes off you until you glanced back at him one last time before disappearing around the corner. Niki ran a hand through his messy blond hair, making it even wilder, and stayed there for a second in the shed’s shadow.
"Fuck…" he muttered to himself, shaking his head with an incredulous smile on his face. "That girl’s gonna kill me before the end of summer."
The atmosphere at camp had become electric a mix of childlike excitement and the bittersweet melancholy of feeling autumn knocking at the door. The end-of-summer dance wasn’t just an event; it was the culmination of all those months spent under the sun—laughing, joking, playing cards, but also fighting, teasing, discovering crushes, and forging friendships under Montana’s scorching heat.
While the kitchen crew churned out endless trays of snacks and finger sandwiches, the outdoor activities team had set up chairs, tables, and colored lights woven through the willow branches by the lake, turning the gazebo into a kind of crystal chandelier with golden threads. The kids couldn’t wait to see all those lights lit up.
The weeks spent in the decoupage group had been exhilarating, you’d watched piles of card stock transform into messages of love or simple friendship, meant for their dance partners. Your heart tightened every time a child asked for your help to glue something, to draw, or to write the name of the person they liked.
That afternoon, you were leaning against the metal slide, watching the scene unfold a few meters away: Nina had asked you to go with her to Thomas, and with her perfect braids bouncing on her shoulders, she was facing her biggest challenge yet, Thomas, a perpetually grumpy-looking kid with his arms almost always crossed and his gaze usually directed elsewhere, as if a thousand thoughts were swirling in his head. For some strange reason, he reminded you terribly of Niki at the start of the summer.
You watched as Nina handed him the invitation—the one she’d worked on for hours, drawing a Formula 1 single-seaterwith the numbers of Thomas’s favorite drivers on the side. And when Thomas lowered his guard, you saw the tiniest lift at the corner of his mouth. It was a silent victory for both you and Nina. You heard Thomas ask, "Why me?"
Nina was quiet for a moment, then said, "Well, you’re the only one who doesn’t talk much but says everything with his eyes or his face… And it was nice when I scraped my knee and you took me to the infirmary, and how every day, without anyone seeing, you changed my bandages especially the pink ones with princesses. So that’s why I want you to come find me at the dance for a little while."
Nina didn’t wait for an answer. She planted a small kiss on his cheek and ran toward you, her big eyes shining.
"He’ll definitely come find me," she declared, tucking a braid behind her ear. "Wow, Nina, you really have a lot of self-confidence. Never let anyone take that away from you when you grow up, okay? Promise?" you said, squeezing her small hand in yours.
But as you started walking toward the lake, the conversation took a turn you never expected.
"Who are you going to the dance with? I hope Niki asked you to go with him," she whispered, as if revealing a state secret, skipping along beside you. Your heart pounded at her words.
"Why… why would Niki ask me to the dance, Nina?" you asked, trying to sound indifferent, but the little girl just smiled knowingly.
"Well, because he likes you, Y/n. He’s been talking about you to me all summer. And I’ll tell you a secret...these braids?" She giggled, covering her mouth as if she’d just shared something she wasn’t supposed to. "He does them for me every morning because he learned how by watching you do yours in the mirror."
You were stunned by the image of Niki: his big, calloused hands, his famous rings carefully braiding a little girl’s hair, trying to mimic your movements. Your eyes almost welled up as you thought back to all those mornings in the bungalow, when you’d felt his burning gaze on the back of your neck through the mirror as you separated the strands. You’d thought… well, you’d thought he was judging you or just waiting his turn for the bathroom. But instead, he’d been memorizing every movement so he could replicate it on Nina’s hair.
"Nina, I… I and Niki, we’re just… I mean, he always teases me, it’s not possible that...."
But Nina wasn’t done demolishing your defenses. She added, with a touch of cheeky confidence:
"And besides, he should ask you because a couple of weeks ago, I saw you kissing near the tool shed. You’re not very discreet, you know? We kids saw you holding hands, or Niki pulling you away out of nowhere… or him coming to get you every time survival class in the woods ended. Those are things boys in love do… like my dad with my mom."
Your world tilted. The phrase "We kids saw you" echoed in your head like a gong. If seven- or eight-year-olds had figured it all out if they’d seen you pressed against that shed with Niki’s lips on yours then the entire camp knew. The other counselors, the director, maybe even the kitchen staff.
You brought a hand to your face and laughed nervously as Nina pulled you along, but before you went in, she said:
"I’m glad you’re Niki’s princess and not me… I’m too little for him but if I were his age, he’d already be mine!" She burst out laughing and ran off, leaving you alone on the path, your mind spinning.
The day of the dance had finally arrived, Niki had been asking you for days now and yet, you almost wished it never would. It was the last evening you’d spend together. Tomorrow, everyone would return to Chicago, and life would go back to normal, as if nothing had changed. Sure, you and Niki both attended the same university, but what would really change between you? You shook your head. Those questions would have answers in the coming days, not tonight. Tonight was meant to be perfect.
You gave yourself one last look in the mirror: the white and red top stood out against your sun-kissed, golden skin, the result of months under the open sky. The jeans with red stars hugged your curves as if they’d been tailored for you, and the soft, deliberately messy French braid gave you a playful yet polished look. When the sakura-scented perfumefilled the air, you felt ready.
As you stepped outside, you saw Niki leaning against the table, wearing his gray and red hoodie—the one he’d given you that night—unzipped, revealing his bare chest. When his eyes landed on you, you watched him swallow hard, and you smiled at the effect you had on him.
"Fuck, Wren… you look stunning," he murmured, his voice rough, and pulled you close, burying his nose in the crook of your neck as if he wanted to memorize your scent for the months to come.
"You don’t look so bad yourself, Niki," you replied with a sly smile, playing with the strings of his hoodie. "Though a shirt would...."
"Dream on, Wren. I’ll wear a shirt only at my graduation, my wedding, or a job interview not for a dance where there’ll be more brats stuffing their faces with snacks than people actually dancing to TikTok songs." He chuckled, pulling you even closer, and you played with his hair.
"You’ll have to cut this hair when we get back to Chicago," you said.
He rolled his eyes. "Mmm, why? I like it this length. Otherwise, when your hands go through it, you won’t be able to play with it or pull it." He grinned, and your cheeks flushed red. You gave him a light swat on the chest and muttered, "Pervert." His hand tried to slip into your back pocket, but you shook your head.
"Come on, Niki, we’re already late." He sighed, but when he placed his cowboy hat on your head, his expression changed.
It wasn’t just an accessory, it was a camp tradition, a cowboy ritual. He didn’t consider himself a cowboy by any means, but seeing you in his hat, the brim casting a slight shadow over your eyes, triggered a sense of possessivenesshe’d never felt with anyone before. In that moment, Niki realized you weren’t just his date for the night—you were his girl, symbolically claimed in front of everyone. The thought that in a few hours you’d both be on the train back to the city made him want to claim every second of the evening, as if to tell the whole world that you’d still be his in Chicago, too.
"Let me see…" he murmured, adjusting the brim with his fingers, which brushed your forehead. "Now no one will have any doubts about who your 'escort' is tonight." He smirked, and you dragged him in front of the bungalow’s mirror to capture the moment.
Niki huffed, pretending to be annoyed by your need for photos, but as soon as you positioned yourself, he stepped behind you. You felt his heat at your back, and with one hand, he gently lifted your chin, forcing you to look up, while with the other, he tilted the hat to create a small, private shadow between you, partially obscuring the phone’s frame. Then, just as the flash went off, he kissed your cheek and he knew one of those photos would end up as his phone’s wallpaper.
The warm lights danced on the dark surface of the lake, creating a magical atmosphere, and the air was thick with the familiar scent of campfires burnt wood, caramel popcorn, and cotton candy sticking to the kids’ fingers as they ran around, laughing and playing.
You and Lia had taken dozens of photos that looked like they’d come straight from a 2016 Tumblr feed: posing on a hay bale, holding a slice of pizza so big it covered half your torso, laughing with your teeth clamped around the rim of a red plastic cup, always looking back at the camera with flushed cheeks. At one point, you’d even herded a group of kids into the photo booth, helping them put on giant star-shaped glasses or fake mustaches until the line was empty and just as you stepped out of the booth, still giggling from your last "diva pose" with Lia, you saw Niki’s massive figure standing in front of you, arms crossed, that crooked half-smile that annoyed you but also sent a thrill through you.
"Have you two finished monopolizing the photo booth? There are other people who’d like to take some memories home, you know," he said, looking between you and Lia. Lia, never one to back down, pulled you closer.
"Oh yeah, Niki? And who exactly would you want to take pictures with? It’s not like you’ve become best friends with anyone here in the last three months!" she teased. He rolled his eyes, but his gaze never left your flushed face.
"Lia, there’s only one person in this entire camp I’d want a photo with, and that’s your best friend. So scram, please."
Lia grinned knowingly when she heard that, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. "Damn, this guy finally marked his territory. Thank God for that storm… you two were exhausting to watch—24/7 of teasing with zero payoff! Even the best K-dramas don’t have that much slow burn!" But before she disappeared into the crowd, she winked at you and mimed a "go for it" gesture with her fingers, reminding you of the pact you’d made: no thoughts for tomorrow just live in the present.
Niki took your hand, his warm fingers intertwining perfectly with yours, and nodded toward the photo booth entrance. The tiny plastic cubicle was clearly designed for kids, not a guy who was nearly six-foot-three. Niki went in first, muttering under his breath as his head nearly hit the ceiling. He sat on the swivel stool, leaving barely any room for you. As you hesitantly tried to perch on the edge of the seat, he grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap.
"Sit here," he ordered, patting his thighs. You hesitated, and he huffed against your skin.
"Come on, Shorty, stop pretending to be some innocent girl. You’ve sat on these legs in way less chaste ways than this, and we both know it." He chuckled, and your cheeks burned as he settled you sideways on his knees. One hand slid up your bare leg, squeezing lightly, while the other rested on your exposed side, his thumb tracing hypnotic circleson your skin.
"Pick the filter, Shorty, but do it for two strips—one’s mine, and the other’s yours," he said. You nodded, not realizing that even choosing a filter would turn into a playful fight.
"Let’s do the one with the little stars! It’s cute!" you suggested, pressing the option.
"Stars? Wren, I have a reputation to uphold. We’re not middle schoolers—go with the black minimalist one," he argued, trying to nudge your finger away from the screen.
"Your reputation died the day you learned how to braid Nina’s hair. Deal with it!" you teased, and after two minutes of bickering and playful shoves, you settled on the most basic option: a vertical filmstrip border with four shots, ten seconds apart.
First photo: The countdown started, and you exchanged an amused glance, bursting into spontaneous, slightly shy laughter as you looked at each other, Niki holding you tight, you trying not to fall off the stool.
Second photo:
You turned and kissed his cheek, and Niki rolled his eyes with a fake indifferent expression as if your kiss on his face(not even his lips!) didn’t affect him. But the way his hand tightened on your side told a different story.
Third photo:
The mood had shifted. Niki gently moved your French braid aside, exposing your neck, and you locked eyes intensely. There was nothing shy about your faces now—close, hungry, his gaze full of possession, as if he wanted to make it clear that he was all you’d ever need.
Fourth photo:
Just as the flash went off for the last time, Niki closed the distance, capturing your lips in a real, deep, possessive kiss just like him. He loved making it clear to everyone that you were his, and the photo captured it perfectly: you with your eyes closed, his hands pulling you even closer, his cowboy hat tilted slightly backward.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, now knowing he was your safe harbor, your fingers sinking into his messy blond hair at the nape of his neck. The photo booth felt even smaller with how close you were, and Niki didn’t waste a second. His hands settled firmly on your hips, his thumbs tracing small designs on the bare skin exposed by the cut of your top.
When your lips parted in a soft moan, he took it as an invitation, and his tongue slid into your mouth, claiming you. You let out a vibrant sound, and if anyone had been outside, they would’ve heard it but honestly, you didn’t care anymore. In that moment, there was only you two, lost in a mix of submission and longing that made Niki’s muscles tense as he felt you so close. You tried to shift, seeking even more intimate contact between your bodies, but he held you firmly in place, his grip on your hips pinning you to his lap, as if to say he was the one setting the pace—even in there.
When the photo strip finally slid out, the mechanical sound of the machine seemed to bring you back to reality. Niki snatched it quickly, almost fearful that someone else might see it. You both fell silent, staring at that last shot, the kiss captured by the flash was real, unfiltered. It looked so authentic that maybe, in that moment, Niki realized he’d found his person and he’d never expected it to be you.
"Fuck," he whispered against your lips, and you caressed the slightly rough skin of his jaw, where the stubble was just starting to grow. You bit your lip, still tasting him, and felt a flicker of anxiety creeping in because in a few hours, everything might change.
"Do… do you want to stay at the party, or go back to the bungalow?" you murmured, lowering your gaze and starting to nervously twist the end of your braid between your fingers. Niki watched you in silence. He knew, he could read every tic, every hesitation in you. He knew you were feeling uncertain, and he lifted your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look into his eyes darker than ever under the neon lights of the booth.
"Why do you want to go back to the bungalow? Aren’t you having fun out here, wren? You’ve been excited about this party for weeks, and now you want to leave already?"
"Everything’s perfect out here," you started, trying to find the right words, not wanting to seem embarrassed by what you were about to say. "But I… I’d like to spend the last night alone. I mean… completely alone. In our bungalow and we could… I don’t know…" You gestured between the two of you, and Niki lifted your chin with his finger, forcing you to meet his gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. He silenced you, pressing a finger to your lips.
"You’re overthinking, Wren. Tell me what you really want… no beating around the bush." He watched you with eyes that were almost glossy with a new determination, mixed with shyness? But Niki wanted to hear you say it.
"I want you to be mine tonight… and me to be yours," you said, starting to nervously fidget with one of the silver rings on his finger. After dropping that bomb, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid he might push you awayor mock you but Niki visibly swallowed, not expecting such a blunt answer from you, it wasn’t like you at all. For a moment, the Niki from the start of summer disappeared, replaced by a guy who looked almost dazed by the luck of having met you.
"Are… are you sure, Y/n?" he asked, his voice almost timid, which made you slightly doubt the guy in front of you. "You know that if we cross that threshold tonight… there’s no going back."
You nodded firmly, intertwining your hand with his, taking the initiative to stand up. Niki sighed deeply, running his other hand through his hair in a gesture of pure agitation because in that moment, he didn’t know if he should feel like the luckiest guy on the planet or the most terrified at the idea of not being worthy of your first time, of not being gentle enough or unforgettable enough for you. He was afraid of ruining everything you’d built over those summer months.
"Are you 100% sure, Wren?" His voice was rough as he hovered over you, his forearm muscles tense from the effort of not pressing too hard against your body.
You rolled your eyes with fake exasperation at his question. "Green, lime green, Tiffany green…" you listed, naming every shade you could think of, and Niki shook his head with a crooked smile.
"You’re such a little brat, you know that?" he murmured, pulling you in for a quick kiss before his hands slid decisively toward your hips. When the button of your jeans popped open and the zipper slid down, the atmosphere in the room shifted drastically.
Niki pulled off your jeans, never taking his eyes off you. And when his gaze fell on the red lace of your semi-thong, his breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out—he was completely thrown off by your lingerie. He ran a hand through his blond hair, messing it up even more, thinking about how innocent you must’ve seemed to everyone at camp… but not to him. Not after discovering what you read, what you wore to drive him wild. When he heard your voice, he snapped back to reality.
"Do you like it?" you whispered, enjoying his shock with a fake innocent look. Niki let out a sound that was half groan, half choked laugh.
"I didn’t think the 'good girl' of summer camp was hiding these kinds of secrets under her clothes. I knew about all those romance books you try to hide from me… but this, Y/N!"
His hand slid down your inner thigh, and the cold silver of his ring against your burning skin made you jolt violently. You wanted to tease him, drive him crazy.
"There’s a lot you still don’t know about me, Niki…" you stammered, trying to keep a shred of composure. He closed his eyes for a second—he’d figured out the game you were playing.
"And what would those be?" he challenged.
"Let’s find out together, shall we?" you replied.
Niki shifted, kneeling between your legs with a slowness that was pure torture. He grabbed your ankle and brought it almost to his face, then began kissing your skin, starting from your ankle, moving up your calf to the curve of your knee. Every kiss was almost torture for you because he was doing it on purpose, going so slow. Each touch was like a brand, alternating kisses with light sucks, and when he reached your thigh, his kisses became deeper, more insistent, leaving a tingling sensation that spread through your entire body.
When he buried his face in the inside of your thigh, the heat of his hot breath made you arch your back.
"Niki… stop teasing me," you pleaded.
But he didn’t listen. His kisses alternated with playful nips on the tenderest part of your thigh, followed by slow licksthat made you lose all sense of direction.
"Higher…" you whispered without thinking, and Niki froze, lifting his gaze to you with a serious look.
"Since when do you get to give me orders, Wren?" he asked, kissing you just one centimeter higher, driving you mad—because that was his intent. From the first moment he’d seen you, he’d wanted to get inside your head, and he was succeeding.
"Please… Niki, don’t make me wait like this, you’re driving me crazy…" you stammered, your hands clawing at the sheets to keep from grabbing him directly. He chuckled, satisfied with his effect on you, and lifted your leg even higher. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed your clit hard through the thin veil of black lace, laughing softly.
"Damn it…" you cursed through your teeth, arching your back and digging your fingers into his hair, not knowing if you wanted to pull him deeper or push him away because you didn’t even know yourself. It was definitely calculated torture, what he was doing to you, and you responded by squirming beneath him.
"You’re a bastard, take this off and touch me for real!"
But Niki didn’t care about your urgency. He wanted to hear you beg, wanted to see how far your resistance would go before he made you completely his. So he let go of your leg but didn’t return to loom over you with his full weight. Instead, he crawled up your body with the same slowness as a predator, leaving a trail of fire with his kisses. He started at the elastic edge of your lace, then your navel, moving up your stomach where your muscles twitched involuntarily at every touch of his tongue. When he reached your breasts, he paused to admire them in the dim light, as if he hadn’t already memorized every inch of you, while your uneven, pleading breaths lift
He leaned down with surgical precision, capturing your hardened nipple between his lips. The contrast was delicious and intoxicating you’d never felt anything like it before. The wet heat of his mouth against your skin, and his cold, silver-ringed hand sliding up to squeeze and tease your other breast, made you even more pliable under his touch. You moaned his name a sound Niki loved hearing from your lips as your fingers tightened in his blond hair, pulling him deeper.
He sensed your impatience and chuckled right against your sensitive skin, making your chest vibrate. Then he dragged his teeth over the tip of your nipple before blowing a cool breath over it, making you jolt violently. But you had no intention of just lying there. You wanted him to feel the same burning need you were feeling. So you hooked your legs around his hips, pulling him into your personal space, and began moving your hips instinctively, grinding your lace-covered intimacy against the hard, unmistakable bulge of his jeans.
Niki froze for a second, caught off guard. But when he realized your movements weren’t accidental—that you were deliberately seeking friction against his length, trying to drive him wild—he stiffened.
"Fuck, Wren… stop moving like that if you don’t want me to lose control before I even take my clothes off," he growled, his voice low. But you didn’t stop. If anything, you pushed harder, chasing that heat that seemed like the only thing capable of extinguishing the fire inside you. And when he finally matched your rhythm, pushing back against you in a synchronized motion, a simultaneous moan escaped both your lips.
"Please…" you whispered, almost without realizing it. Niki lifted himself a few centimeters, surprised to hear you begging him for something.
"What are you begging for, Wren? A month ago, you couldn’t even stand to breathe the same air as me in this room. And now? What are you begging for?" he asked, challenging you with his gaze. But you looked back at him, unafraid to show just how much you wanted him.
"You couldn’t stand me as a roommate either, and yet here you are, worshipping my body like it’s your only religion. So stop talking, Niki, because we’ve teased each other all summer, and I think it’s time to let all this electricity explode—the kind everyone saw except us."
After your answer, Niki didn’t waste another second. With a fluid motion, he grabbed the edges of your thong, his patience was completely gone. He pulled your panties off in one sharp motion, letting them slide down your legs and leaving you completely bare beneath him. When his gaze fell on your glistening, swollen intimacy, a victorious grinspread across his face. He felt like a king—the first to see you like this, the first to possess your vulnerability. And he knew the mark he’d leave on you tonight would be indelible, because only he would have you like this.
"Where’s the girl who was talking too much a minute ago?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched you look away in embarrassment.
"She’s still here, Niki… don’t count your chickens just yet," you shot back, trying to reclaim a shred of dignity as you spread your legs for him. That gesture drove him wild with desire. He grabbed your thighs and hoisted them onto his shoulders, leaving you completely exposed and at his mercy. Then he leaned in, and his hot tongue flicked against your clit in one swift motion. You moaned at the sensation of his tongue against your core.
"God, Wren… are you still this sensitive?" he chuckled against your skin, feeling how you trembled. "It’s not the first time tonight—you should be used to my mouth by now."
"Just… just shut up!" you cursed, but his only response was to intertwine his hand with yours, pressing it firmly against the mattress. That gesture...so intimate and protective in the middle of all this lust made your heart beat harder than anything else, because Niki could act like a jerk, but when it came to you, he became almost someone else.
His other hand held your hip in place while his tongue began to work in perfect figure-eights, pressing insistently on the tip of your clit.
"I need to prepare you, Wren," he murmured between kisses against your folds. "If you want me to slide my cock inside you without hurting you, you need to be ready to take me."
You nodded frantically, unable to form coherent sentences. And when you felt his index finger tease your entrance, coating itself in your arousal before pushing in slowly, you felt so good, yet so protected by him because in that moment, you were trusting each other completely.
"Look how well you take this… and it’s just one finger. Yet here you are, already begging for more with those moans of yours, huh? You’re just a spoiled little girl who’s discovered how good it feels to be ruined by me." He smirked, and you moaned loudly as he began pumping his finger inside you, filling you in a way that made you feel complete yet starving for more and when he decided you could handle it, he slid his middle finger in as well.
The impact was shocking, you felt the cold edge of his silver ring against the hot, sensitive flesh of your lips, and you screamed, arching your back and clenching your legs around his face, swallowing his fingers up to the knuckle. The contrast between the icy metal and the fire inside you made you lose your mind.
"Niki… oh God, the ring… it’s… it’s too much," you stammered but Niki looked up at you from below, his lips glistening with your arousal, and pushed harder, coordinating the movement of his fingers with his tongue, which continued to torment your clit. When you started to cry from the intensity of pleasure, he froze for a second, doubting if he’d hurt you but then he heard your words.
"I’m… I’m about to come… Niki, please, don’t stop!"
He relaxed, and a predatory smile lit up his face. "Fuck, it’s so hot watching you cry while you beg me to make you come." He curved his fingers inside you, and you, overwhelmed by the double stimulation, pulled his hair with desperate force, clawing at the sheets with your other hand as the climax swept over you. The final contrast, his tongue, his fingers, and that cold metal made you explode against his mouth in a violent orgasm that left you trembling and spent, coming against both his mouth and his fingers.
"Fuck… that’s my good girl," Niki murmured.
When Niki pulled away from you, you swallowed hard. He leaned in again to give you a soft, lingering kiss, charged with the weight of what you were about to do, and asked:
"Are you 100% sure about this?" His voice was low, his fingers stroking your hair. You stayed silent for a moment, and those few seconds of hesitation felt like an eternity to Niki. But then you found the words, and he relaxed.
"Right now, there are no red lights, Niki. No orange warnings either," you whispered, echoing what he had taught you the first time he’d seen you naked and touched you.
"For me, everything is completely green right now… I… I want… I want to be yours." Your voice trembled, tears pricking at your eyes. Niki reached out, caressing your cheek with his thumb. His eyes were glistening too, and a crooked, moved smile lit up his face.
"I want to be yours too, Wren. Today, tomorrow, for the weeks to come, for the next months… and who knows how much longer."
With fingers still slightly trembling, you brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "Niki… are you, by any chance, declaring yourself?"
He huffed with a half-embarrassed smile that tinted his cheeks a soft pink. "Fuck, you… you’ve made me soft too many times these past weeks, especially right now," he admitted, shaking his head, almost incredulous at the power you had over him.
"So… is it green for you too?" you asked, watching him closely. Niki’s eyes widened—he hadn’t expected you to ask for his confirmation too, but it was a mutual respect you’d found in each other. Then he smiled softly.
"Lime green, Tiffany green… I don’t even remember how many other kinds of green there are… but yes, it’s super green right now."
Your hands slid downward, meeting the buckle of his belt. With a determined but clumsy motion, you unclasped it, letting it fall somewhere on the floor. Niki didn’t waste time—he shimmied out of his jeans in quick movements, tossing them aside. When he leaned over you again, the contact between his erection, still covered by the thin fabric of his boxers, and your already sensitive, pulsing intimacy wrung a muffled moan from both of you.
"Take them off yourself, Y/N," he murmured. With fingers that refused to stay still, you played with the waistband of his boxers, sliding your hands up his hips before pulling them down. And when your eyes finally met his full nudity, his rosy, tense shaft already glistening with pre-cum, your pupils dilated with a mix of shock and desire at how big and thick he was. Niki closed his eyes, groaning.
"This… well, this is what you do to me, Y/N."
"Is that… a good thing?" you asked in a whisper, almost seeking confirmation of the power you felt over him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, chuckling softly.
"Yeah, it’s a great thing, Wren. Except when we’re in public and I can’t do anything about it."
Without asking for permission, you reached out and touched him, wrapping your hand around his hot, taut skin. You felt his breath catch instantly.
"I… there’ll be other opportunities where you can tease me like this… or where you can be on top of me," he stammered, trying to keep control as his muscles tensed under your touch. "But fuck, Y/N, if I’m not inside you in the next few minutes, I’m gonna come like some inexperienced kid. And I want your first time to be perfect." He almost laughed, and you nodded.
You watched as he reached toward the nightstand and grabbed a silver square—a condom. "Don’t think the worst, it’s not mine," he said immediately, as if he needed to justify himself to avoid seeming presumptuous. "I asked someone I trust for it earlier and don’t think I planned this, or that I took you for granted...."
But you gently placed a hand over his lips, silencing him. You wanted him to know that his thoughtfulness meant more than he realized.
"Shut up, Niki. You’ve never pressured me into anything. In fact, I appreciate that you thought about protection. I’m not on the pill, and I want to do this safely."
He nodded, visibly relieved, and with expert but quick fingers, he tore open the condom. You, driven by curiosity, tried to help, but he gently shook his head, stopping your hands.
"Next time, I’ll teach you how, I promise… but we only have one, and I need to feel you as mine so badly that I can’t risk messing this up." His voice was urgent as he positioned himself above you.
Niki positioned himself with painstaking slowness between your legs, lifting your hips slightly with a pillow to ease the union. His eyes never left yours, searching for that final silent "yes." When you nodded, he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep kiss as his hips pushed gently against your entrance.
Feeling the tip of his cock tease your sensitivity wrung a moan of pure desire from you.
"I’ll stop immediately if it hurts, Y/N. Don’t be afraid or embarrassed to tell me, okay?" he whispered, his concern melting your heart—you’d never have imagined the guy you met over three months ago could be this tender with you.
"Please… I want to be yours," you breathed, your voice ragged. Niki didn’t need to be told twice. With a slow, controlled thrust, he slid inside you, and you both moaned in unison—him from the heat enveloping him, you from the unfamiliar fullness you’d never felt before.
"Fuck… you’re so tight, it’s driving me crazy," he groaned through clenched teeth, feeling how snugly you clenched around him.
"It’s… it’s so big, Niki," you whispered, eyes wide. He looked at you with a mix of pride and worry, kissing the tip of your nose.
"I’m sorry, little one… I’ll try to be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re gripping me so tight it’s hard to stay still."
He paused for a few moments inside you, letting your body adjust to his size. You could feel every millimeter of him, and soon, driven by an irresistible instinct, you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer. Niki cursed again:
"God, Y/N… you’re making it impossible to keep any self-control." He tried not to hurt you, but you begged:
"You can move… please, move."
Niki pulled back slightly, then, without warning, pushed in almost fully, and you clung to his shoulder as you felt the walls of your vagina stretch to accommodate him completely. It burned—it was an intense stretch but the sensation of finally being "filled" by him overpowered any pain your body had ever felt.
When he felt you slowly relax, he began to move, first with caution, then with growing fervor. His shaft slid perfectly inside you, lubricated by your own desire, and with every deep thrust, the sound of your bodies colliding and your moans filled the room.
Your hands sought his hair, pulling him closer as your nails left red marks on his bare back every time he took you harder. Niki nipped at your neck a possessive gesture that made you lose your mind.
"Please, Niki! Don’t… don’t stop," you pleaded, now lost in pleasure, feeling how warmly you welcomed him, how your legs clenched around him. Niki decided to change the angle and shifted slightly on the bed, rolling you onto your side.
"Niki, where are you going? What are you doing?" you stammered, eyes glazed, your breath ragged with a mix of lust and panic.
"Trust me, Wren… I’ll make you feel good," he replied with a knowing smile. Niki slid one arm under your back, pulling you even closer, while his other hand grabbed your thigh, lifting it decisively over his hip. In that position, the angle changed drastically—his cock slid even deeper, reaching spots you didn’t even know were so sensitive. You felt his shaft press with surgical precision against your G-spot, and the pleasure was so sharp that you buried your face against his neck, biting his hot skin to keep from screaming too loudly—afraid someone might hear.
"More, Niki… more, please!" you begged between moans, your nails digging into his shoulders. He didn’t need to be asked twice. Feeling how completely at his mercy you were, he intensified his thrusts: he began alternating short strokes, making you feel only the tip entering and exiting, tormenting your pussy, before plunging deep and powerful, stealing your breath. He felt like he was in heaven as your vagina clenched around him divinely, as if it had been made just for him. But it wasn’t enough—while he continued to claim you, he slid his free hand between your bodies and began stimulating your clit with his thumb.
"Niki… fuck, it’s too much! I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come!" you cried, arching your back as the pleasure became almost unbearable from how divinely his cock slid inside you. He began whispering dirty, sweet words to make you lose all control.
"It’s not too much, Wren. It’s exactly what you deserve. Look at me while you come for me… look how beautiful you are while I take you like this." He lifted your chin, and you wrapped your other leg around his hip, erasing every millimeter of space between you.
"You’re so good, my little Wren… look how well you take all of me, look how you tremble for me."
You nodded, completely overwhelmed, until a second violent orgasm swept over you for the second time that night. The muscles of your vagina contracted rhythmically around him, milking him, and Niki groaned loudly, thrusting even deeper.
"That’s my good girl," he whispered, kissing you fiercely. You thought he was done, that your climax marked the end, but Niki hadn’t released his tension yet. With renewed fervor, he began fucking you again in that position, and the sound of his cock slamming into your pussy was the only thing filling the room, along with your breaths and moans. Then, suddenly, Niki’s muscles tensed he was coming too.
"Fuck, Y/N… I’m about to… I’m coming too," he stammered, eyes wide. You burst into tears at how stimulating it was to see him come, and as you felt Niki unload all his cum in hot spurts inside the condom, he stayed inside you for minutes, still, his chest rising and falling frantically. It was beautiful to still feel him inside, to feel his heat slowly calming, and he began stroking your entire body with infinite tenderness as you snuggled against his chest as if it were your only refuge.
"It was… it was beautiful," you whispered softly. Niki lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on your sweat-dampened forehead. "Was it too much? Did I hurt you?" he asked, a hint of concern in his eyes. But you shook your head.
"It was unreal," you replied, making him smile in relief.
"I’m glad your first time was with me, Wren. And that you trusted me… even though I know I don’t exactly have a spotless reputation," he admitted, with a touch of melancholy that vanished as soon as you pulled him into a tighter embrace. With extreme slowness, he pulled out of you with a sigh, and you watched as he got up gracefully, removing the condom and tossing it in the trash before lying back down beside you, pulling you back into his arms.
The only sounds in the room were the rhythm of your breaths slowly returning to normal and, in the background, the muffled beat of the music still playing outside the summer camp. Niki lay beside you, his arm pressed against yours, and you could feel the cold metal of his rings absentmindedly playing with your fingers a nervous gesture that betrayed how shaken he still was.
When you lifted your gaze, you realized he hadn’t stopped staring at you, his expression unreadable. Curious as you were, you wanted to know what was going through his mind.
"Do… do I have something on my face?" you asked softly, suddenly feeling naked under his intense gaze. Niki shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.
"What’s on your mind?" you asked, stroking his cheek with your thumb. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the touch he loved so much, and said:
"I have so many things running through my head right now that I don’t even know how to act with you in this moment… I feel… strange, but in a good way."
You nodded and whispered, trying to reassure him: "You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, Niki."
"What we just did was beautiful… I hope you know how much I trust you… and I hope that, despite my lack of experience, it was special for you too." You said it, fearing for a second that you might have been "not enough" for him because you knew he’d had more experience. At those words, Niki seemed to snap out of it and turned fully toward you, hovering over your body without crushing you, and wrapped you in a protective embrace, burying his face against your neck as if afraid of being discovered or maybe just afraid of the new reality you both found yourselves in for the first time.
"Don’t joke around, fuck… it was amazing from start to finish. I’d do it with you forever… don’t think or compare yourself to anyone else," he murmured, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin.
"Wren, I can’t keep pretending to be detached anymore… I… I… I like you so damn much." He said it against your neck, but he was seriously afraid of sounding like a fool in that moment. You chuckled softly, stroking his sweaty hair.
"I like you too, Niki. I think even the walls of this bungalow have figured it out by now." You said, and he lifted himself onto his arms, looking at you with almost frustration.
"No, fuck, that’s not what I wanted to say! It’s not just 'I like you.' It’s just that I… I…"
Seeing his struggle, you gently placed a hand over his lips, stopping the internal conflict you could read on his face, and said naturally: "I love you, Niki."
Niki’s eyes widened, and he froze, as if you’d just thrown down a challenge with those words. The silence lasted a second too long, and you seriously feared he wouldn’t say it back or would pull away from you. But then he scoffed loudly, letting his head fall back.
"Damn it! I was supposed to say it first, Y/N! You beat me to it!" he exclaimed, visibly annoyed with himself. You shrugged with a sly little smile.
"Well, you could’ve been faster." You teased, laughing, and he replied:
"I love you too, Wren. In case it wasn’t obvious from the way I look at you or from how I’m currently trying not to look like an idiot." He said it as he couldn’t stop touching you, a new light shining in his eyes. You pulled him back to you, enjoying the warmth of his chest against yours.
"I’m happy to hear you say it. It was a little embarrassing watching you suffer so much trying to spit out those two words!"
He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop smiling. "Oh yeah, very funny. I’ll get my revenge, just you wait."
And he started kissing you everywhere—your chin, your cheeks, the tip of your nose—whispering "I love you" every time his lips touched your skin, as if it were now easier to say it spontaneously.
"I’m really glad they put us in the same room together," he finally said, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling you in for a serious kiss. "It was the best thing that could’ve happened to us."
"Definitely," you replied, laughing in his arms, finally feeling completely at home.
*synopsis: Montana is the state where the most beautiful summer camps of all are held, every year hundreds of children couldn't wait to spend three months away from their families to stay at a summer camp cooking marshmallows, hiking the various nature trails, and swimming in the campus's natural pools. You too had been through all these experiences from your 10s until you were 15 and now that you were of age you would have become an entertainer but you hadn't counted on something that would be on summer campus too Niki, Niki was the classic “bad boy” of the town with all the girls at his feet and with petty crimes caused as a ‘joke’. But what if Niki had to be sent to work as an entertainer on summer campus for “punishment” and you, the classic good girl with zero experience in boys, had to share a room with him? A disaster from day one you can't get along with him but between bonfires with marshmallows, dives in ice water and confessions under the stars maybe the idea of spending 3 months on summer campus with Niki wasn't so bad
*word count: 34k
*tags: At first Y/n and Niki can't stand each other, they love teasing each other, first kiss (many kisses) fluffy, Niki may seem a little bit of an asshole but then becomes obsessed but in a good way with Y/n, masturbation, discovery of spicy books, loss of virginity (protected sex) there will be misunderstandings, jealousy, +18, tattoo kisses, love statement, pet names (good girl, wren)
The sky above Camp Montana was a blue so deep it almost looked unreal, the mountains in the distance veiled by a soft haze. The chirping of birds lulled you into relaxation, while the gentle lapping of waves against the shore in front of the common room’s porch gave the place an air of tranquility, though in just a few hours, it would transform into a bustling summer camp, teeming with kids eager to find their cabins and meet the friends who would share the secrets of a summer unlike any other.
Camp Montana was one of the most famous summer camps in the stat and beyond with hundreds of kids signing up months in advance for an unforgettable experience. As a child, you were one of them: not just another little girl with dirt-streaked braids and scraped knees, but now, an animator. You wore the iconic red Camp Montana hoodie, the eagle emblem emblazoned on the chest, your name stitched beside it. Your jeans bore the camp’s logo, and you carried all the gear and perks that came with the role, everything you’d dreamed of as a kid.
Back then, this place was pure magic. You’d spend nights by the campfire under a sky full of stars, sticky fingers wrapped around half-burnt marshmallows. You’d race through the woods with your friends, laughter echoing across the lake as you leaped from inflatables into the water. It was the place where you dreamed of growing up, of wearing that hoodie, of being loved by the kids just like your favorite animators—women you still remembered fondly.
But now? Now, Camp Montana was different. Now, there were responsibilities of every kind: comforting homesick children, reassuring worried parents over the phone, pulling night shifts to make sure no one snuck out of the cabins. There were judgmental glances from the other animators, whispers, and gossip slithering between the bungalows. You’d expected a peaceful summer, but life had other plans. Maybe fate was playing a cruel trick on you—or perhaps, the most beautiful one of your life.
The common room at Camp Montana was a massive wooden space, its walls covered in faded photos of summers past, some of them featuring you, with your childhood braids and braces. Colorful flags hung from the ceiling, each one signed with the names of past animators. The air was thick with the scent of coffee, freshly baked butter cookies, and burning wood. On one side, there were industrial kitchens and long tables where chaotic, noisy meals were served every day. On the other hand, a small loft where the camp president a man in his sixties with a stern, gray-bearded face was outlining the rules on a flip chart, rules that would govern the next three months, especially the ones animators were forbidden to break.
Lia, one of your closest friends: someone you’d spent countless summers with at camp, sat beside you, legs crossed, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she read aloud the "Forbidden Things for Camp Animators" written in bold red on the board:
FORBIDDEN THINGS FOR CAMP ANIMATORS:
Swimming in the lake after 10:00 PM (seriously dangerous without a lifeguard on duty).
Alcohol or drugs (zero tolerance anyone caught using drugs will be expelled immediately).
Outside guests (no bringing in boyfriends/girlfriends).
Smoking in common areas (there are two designated smoking zones—check the camp maps).
Public arguments (keep your drama private, not in front of the kids).
Abandoning your shift (if you’re on duty, you stay on duty until your shift ends).
Bringing weapons (this is a summer camp—parents expect their kids to be safe).
Damaging nature (we’re here to teach kids to respect the environment—no cutting trees, littering, etc.).
You studied the rules carefully. Most of them were reasonable, but Lia didn’t seem to agree.
"Listen to this, Y/n," she whispered, pointing at the first rule. "‘No swimming in the lake after 10:00 PM.’ Pfft! We all did it! Remember when we used to sneak out at night and dive in, then run back screaming like maniacs?" She giggled, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing. Yes, even though you’d always been seen as the "good girl," the studious one, you’d had your share of rebellious moments at 16 or 17—moments you now carried in your heart.
"Yeah, but we’re animators now, Lia," you reminded her, nudging her gently. "We’re here to work, have fun, and most importantly set a good example for the kids."
Lia rolled her eyes. "Oh, please! Give it a week, and 99% of us will have broken every single rule. Look around, half these people are just here to escape their parents, hook up in the bungalows, and have a summer they’ll tell their future kids about in a few years."
Before you could respond, the door to the common room swung open. It couldn’t be the kids, they weren’t arriving yet. Instead, what you saw—what everyone saw—was a head of bleached-blond hair with dark roots, broad shoulders, and a towering height of at least 1.95 meters. His expressive eyes and lips were the kind every girl in the room would dream of kissing. Niki because that’s who it was ducked slightly to fit through the doorway, as if even the entrance had to adjust for him. He walked toward the group of animators with an arrogant confidence that sent shivers down spines, and every girl in the room gasped:
"Oh my God..."
"Is that....?"
"It can’t be him."
You turned away sharply, trying not to look, but Lia’s eyes widened, and she elbowed you. "What the hell is Niki doing here?!" she hissed, her voice a mix of shock and excitement. "Wasn’t he supposed to be doing community service for that mess with the stolen cars? Everyone knows he organized those illegal races during the Cowboy Festival!"
You shrugged, feigning indifference, even though your heart was pounding. Unfortunately, you knew Niki. You’d grown up in the same small town, gone to the same university, you studied child psychology while he leaned into the arts, photography, and drawing.
I have no idea," you muttered, biting your nail. "But one thing’s for sure: that guy is a walking disaster. He can’t be an animator here with all these kid —he’s a ticking time bomb."
Niki sat down two rows ahead of you, crossing his long legs with effortless nonchalance. You clenched your fists as he tilted his head slightly, his signature cowboy hat—now in a "baggy style"—shadowing his face. The president glared at him with open disdain, clearly afraid Niki would bring trouble to this little slice of paradise.
The president clapped his hands loudly and cleared his throat into the microphone. "Alright, now that all our camp animators have graced us with their presence, we can begin!" His voice was sharp, dripping with sarcasm. "As you know, every year, we pair you up for teams and bungalows. Each bungalow has two single beds, a small reading area, a mini kitchen, a bathroom, and a porch with a hammock. Some overlook the lake, others the mountains, and some are near the kids’ cabins. The pairs are mixed—it’s been a tradition for years, and we’ve never had issues with boys and girls sharing. You’re all adults and responsible, so I trust you’ll have a great time with your new roommate. Now, let’s announce the pairs!"
You glanced at Lia, who rested her head on your shoulder and smirked. "I’d bet anything we’re rooming together, but we both know that’s not happening." You nodded, already resigned. A murmur spread through the room.
"I’d pay gold to be paired with Niki!" a red-haired girl shrieked. "I want Keeho!" another yelled, eyeing the guy sitting next to Niki. "Joshua’s mine!" another chimed in, her English flawless.
You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever chaos was about to unfold.
The camp president scrolled through countless slides on the interactive whiteboard, and with each new slide, your stomach twisted tighter. For what felt like an eternity, your name and photo refused to appear. As anxiety clawed at you—like it always did—you started gnawing at the nail of your index finger, eyes locked on the screen. It was as if the blank slide delighted in torturing you, flashing one animator pairing after another, but never yours.
Then, your name blared through the speakers, just a little too loud.
"Y/n will be paired with Niki for the next three months in Bungalow 20," the president announced, his gaze almost pitying as it landed on you.
You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. There, on the screen, was your photo—smiling, the picture of the "girl next door"—paired with Niki’s. If you’d had a permanent marker, you would’ve drawn giant horns on his head and a ridiculous mustache over that smirking mouth of his. It was a low blow, no, a cruel joke from fate. The president must’ve had a twisted sense of humor, or maybe he was just a sadist, delighted at the thought of turning your summer into the worst one of your life.
Lia, your so-called best friend 'the traitor' started patting your head sympathetically, but it didn’t take long for her to dissolve into giggles.
"Well, look on the bright side," she whispered, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "If you survive three months living with him, your psychology thesis will write itself. Either that, or you’ll end up in the news as an accomplice in some illegal drift racing scandal. Either way, Y/n, you’ll be legendary."
You shot her a glare and buried your face in your hands, feeling your ears burn. "I hate you," you mumbled. "This is a nightmare. He’s literally the one person in all of Montana I wouldn’t even want to share an elevator with, let alone a bungalow for three months."
With that, you bolted up, grabbed your things, and stormed out, avoiding everyone’s eyes—especially his. You could feelNiki two rows ahead, smirking, that infuriating grin plastered on his face. You lugged your bags with a strength you didn’t know you had, marching toward the upper part of the camp until you reached Bungalow 19… and then, Bungalow 20.
And Bungalow 20 was objectively perfect.
If it weren’t for your soon-to-be roommate, you might’ve cried with joy. The bungalow sat on a small hill, its wooden porch complete with a hammock big enough for more than two people. The view of the lake was straight out of a National Geographic postcard, and the mountain ridges stretched across the horizon. You pouted at how beautiful Montana could be, then dragged your suitcase—heavy as if you’d packed a corpse inside up the steps and threw open the door to your new home.
The interior was cozy, with a scent of vanilla. On the table, two shiny new badges gleamed in the afternoon light, beside a basket of warm butter-vanilla cookies a welcome gift from the camp kitchen. Next to it, a letter with the camp’s official stamp and the president’s signature. You skimmed it:
The animator pairs hadn’t been chosen at random. No, the president had studied each of you carefully, spending days crafting the "perfect" pairings. You were cautious, level-headed, someone who hated lying and taking risks. Niki, on the other hand, was cunning, self-serving, and always looking for a challenge. "You’re the sun, and he’s the storm," the letter read. "You’ll balance each other out."
You couldn’t believe what you’d just read. You wanted to crumple the paper into a ball and hurl it into the lake, but you knew Niki would have to read it too. So, like the good girl you were, you slapped it back onto the table and shoved a cookie into your mouth, chewing angrily as you stormed into the bedroom.
The beds were too close: both queen-sized, separated only by a flimsy nightstand. You claimed the one by the window, thinking that if either of you stretched out an arm in the night, you’d probably touch. You shook your head, muttering to yourself as you unzipped your suitcase and started unpacking. For twenty minutes, the world almost felt normal. You could hear the distant sounds of other animators unpacking, laughter echoing from nearby bungalows, the gentle lapping of waves against the lake’s rocky shore, and the chirping of birds. Normally, these sounds would’ve soothed you.
But peace wasn’t going to last.
The bungalow door creaked open, and the thud of Niki’s leather duffel bag hitting the floor told you one thing: your peace was officially over. The longest three months of your life were about to begin.
He strode toward Bungalow 20, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes in that defiant, street-meets-prairie style of his. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how his life had turned into some cheesy teen movie. He and his friends had planned to leave Montana for a couple of months a road trip through California, Oregon, all the way up to Canada. But then, surprise, he’d been caught behind the wheel of a stolen, tricked-out car, drifting like an idiot after watching one of his best friends win the world rodeo championship. It had been a stupid move, and his parents had bailed him out—literally—paying his bond for the joyride with stolen cars. He’d expected to end up picking up trash on the side of the road or serving meals at a soup kitchen. Instead, fate had other plans.
And now here he was, strolling through a summer camp, sentenced to three months of untouched nature, suffocating rules, and an endless horde of screaming kids as a counselor. When the town—and his parents—had first suggested it, he’d laughed in their faces. Him, babysitting a bunch of rule-breaking brats (just like he’d been)? No thanks. But here he was, and the cherry on top of this absurd sundae? You.
You were the classic good girl of the town: mayor’s daughter, straight-A student, the kind of girl every mom dreamed of for their wayward sons. The thought of spending three goddamn months with you made him want to punch something. But at the same time, it intrigued him. Because even good girls had secrets, and he was dying to uncover yours.
When he pushed open the bungalow door, the contrast hit him like a slap. The air smelled of vanilla, butter, and cherry—sickeningly sweet, almost too clean, the exact opposite of his own scent of mint and spice, the kind that lingered even from a mile away. He dropped his duffel with a heavy thud onto the wooden floor. His eyes landed on the vanilla-butter cookies left by the kitchen staff, the note reading, "Made with all the love for our favorite new counselors." He rolled his eyes, then spotted the president’s letter. As he read it aloud, his expression shifted from shock to amusement. The letter praised you like some saint, while it described him as if he were a seven-headed monster. He shook his head, laughing at how surreal this whole situation was.
With half a cookie still in his mouth, he walked into the bedroom. You were bent over, meticulously arranging your tank tops with a precision that both irritated and fascinated him. He watched your wispy braids sway with every movement, and admitting it only to himself your body wasn’t half bad for someone who spent their life buried in books. The way your jeans hugged your hips, the way your tank top accentuated your chest—damn. He cleared his throat, unable to resist.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, his smirk promising nothing but trouble. "If it isn’t Miss Braids herself...my roommate for the next three months."
You whipped around, glaring at him with a look that could’ve incinerated anyone else on the spot.
"Oh, joy," you snapped, your voice sharp as a blade. "I’m thrilled to share a room with a two-bit delinquent."
Niki chuckled, reaching out to brush his fingers over the cover of one of your classic novels Wuthering Heights, some psychological thriller he’d never even heard of. "Looks like even the library mouse knows all about my life."
You crossed your arms, lifting your chin in defiance. "I couldn’t care less about your life. In fact, the less I hear about it, the better. But we do live in a small town where gossip spreads, and unfortunately, my dad’s the mayor, so I’ve had to listen to more about your stupid antics than I’d like."
You took him in, your lips curling into a slight pout. Niki had an undeniable aura intimidating, yet magnetic. He was the kind of guy you didn’t forget easily, and that annoyed you even more.
Niki sighed, ignoring your jab, and flopped onto his bed. The wooden frame groaned under his weight—all 6’5” of muscle and arrogance seemed almost too much for the half-queen mattress. He stretched lazily, the movement hitching his oversized hoodie up just enough to reveal a sliver of golden skin and the waistband of his Playboy boxers peeking out from his low-slung jeans. You knew Niki had his own style, and you couldn’t deny even to yourself—that it wasn’t entirely unappealing. Your eyes flickered there for just a millisecond, and he caught it. A victorious smirk spread across his lips.
"Your parents are gonna lose it when they find out their sweet little angel has to share a room with a ‘criminal’ for three months," he mused, touching his lips thoughtfully, shattering the brief peace.
You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. "They trust me and I won’t do anything reckless...or wrong in your presence."
You crossed your arms tighter beneath your chest, a defensive gesture that only drew Niki’s attention. In two quick strides, he closed the distance between you, towering over you with his imposing frame. The scent of spiced mint filled the air, thick and intoxicating.
"Mmm, we’ll see," he murmured, lowering his head near your ear. "If I were a parent, I wouldn’t be too comfortable knowing my daughter had to spend countless nights in my company, wren."
Your face flushed with anger and something else, something forbidden. You slapped his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric. "You’re just a lost cause, Niki and stop calling me wren!"
He let out a low, rough laugh as he headed toward the bathroom to unpack. "Never. We both know you’ll never outgrow me."
And there you stood, frozen in the middle of the room as the bathroom door clicked shut, your heart pounding, anger battling with an annoying, unwelcome rush of adrenaline.
A week had passed since the summer camp started, and if there were an award for patience, they should name a town square after you or better yet, erect an entire statue in your honor right in front of your hometown’s city hall. Sharing Bungalow 20 with Niki wasn’t just a challenge, it was a refined form of psychological torture. And for someone as naturally calm and patient as you, he made every day harder than the last.
Problem number one? Sleep. You loved slipping between the sheets at a decent hour—okay, maybe you were a little too fond of going to bed early. By 9 PM, you could already be drifting off to sleep, lulled by the sound of the stream outside. But Niki had other plans. Let’s just say he forgot to mention one tiny detail: he suffered from insomnia. Watching you fall asleep in five minutes flat had thrown him off because he was a night owl. He’d stay awake until 2 AM, whistling, spinning his phone between his fingers, or sketching with the music blasting. You’d politely suggested he could stay outside there were comfy puff chairs or even a hammock but he’d just smirked and said, "No thanks, I’d rather not get eaten by a bear."
And then there was the issue of tidiness. The word "order" didn’t exist in Niki’s vocabulary or maybe it did, but he took great pleasure in driving you insane. You weren’t a neat freak, but you at least tried not to turn the room into a refugee camp. The bungalow wasn’t huge just a wooden entrance table, a cushioned bench with big windows overlooking the clearing, a tiny sitting area, and an open space with your two beds and a bathroom (which, admittedly, was bigger than necessary, and you weren’t complaining about that).
Niki, on the other hand, scattered his oversized hoodies everywhere like he was marking his territory. And don’t even get started on his razors left on the sink. "For the two stray hairs on your face, you could at least put them away!" you’d yelled one morning, but he’d just flashed that infuriating smirk while shaving his cheek.
But the final straw was the ID card prank. Every counselor had to carry theirs to access camp areas, and one morning, yours had vanished—poof, like magic. You were in full-blown panic, tearing the place apart: under the bed, between books, in the bathroom, under the bench. Then Niki leaned against the doorframe, watching you huff and mutter, that annoying smile playing on his lips.
"Looking for this, Princess?" he asked, dangling the ID card from his index finger.
You lunged to grab it, but he lifted his arm, using all of his 195 centimeters to keep it out of reach. You glared as you hopped uselessly, trying to snatch it.
"You know," he murmured, letting you nearly collide with his chest as you jumped, "you should keep it somewhere safer… maybe pinned right here…" He tapped the neckline of your tank top with the edge of the card, watching your cheeks flush pink. He’d discovered he loved seeing your round cheeks turn every shade of red, and without another word, he draped it around your neck, letting it fall against your chest. Then he winked and disappeared into the kitchen.
But the incident that truly made you snap happened one late afternoon. You’d just returned to the bungalow after an exhausting day of supervising dozens of kids screaming on the lake’s inflatables, your hair a disaster and your legs shaking with fatigue. Without a care in the world, you flung the door open, only to freeze.
Sitting on Niki’s bed was a girl, one of the sports group counselors, laughing hysterically at something he’d said. She was practically straddling him. You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly popped out, your face turning as red as a bell pepper—not from embarrassment, but from pure, unadulterated rage. You shot the girl a look that could’ve killed a grizzly bear.
When Niki gestured for her to leave like she’d never been there, you pointed a finger at him and snapped:
"It’s incredibly disrespectful to bring random people into our bungalow, especially at this hour when you know I come back exhausted! I’m seriously tired, I just want to shower and sleep, and instead, I walk in to find you doing… who knows what with that girl!" You crossed your arms, glaring, and Niki pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at how furious you were. He sat up, running a hand through his blond hair, and looked at you with an amused grin.
"What’s wrong, Shorty? You’re not… jealous, are you? I didn’t know the mayor’s daughter cared so much about my free time."
You shot him your worst glare. "Jealous? Of you?!" you scoffed, pointing at him. "Right now, I’m furious, not jealous! If you’re going to bring girls in here whenever you feel like it, then starting tomorrow, I’ll bring a guy in too, no, I’ll bring a different one every night!" You gestured to the bungalow, and Niki stiffened instantly. His jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscles in his neck tighten, and his gaze darkened, almost dangerous but only for a second. The next moment, he burst into laughter, flopping backward onto the bed.
"Why the hell are you laughing?!" you demanded, even angrier, but he just stretched out, taking up the entire bed with his endless legs, and looked at you with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.
"Oh, this is rich! The girl with the braids—who I’m pretty sure has never been kissed in her life—wants to bring some random guy into our room! Go ahead, Y/n, you wouldn’t even know where to start."
Your cheeks burned a shade of red you’d never experienced before. Jabbing a finger at him, you hissed, "You don’t know the first thing about me, Niki!" Your voice trembled with indignation. You grabbed your robe and toiletries and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard the wooden walls of the bungalow shook.
Under the shower’s spray, you cursed him in every language you knew. But deep in your chest, your heart refused to calm down and you weren’t sure if it was from the insult or the way he’d looked at you when you’d mentioned bringing another guy in.
That morning, the soft Montana dawn light filtered through the curtains, bringing with it the usual chorus of birds and the steady murmur of the stream just a few meters from your bungalow. You would have given half your counselor’s salary to stay under the blankets for another ten minutes or maybe the whole morning because as a kid, you never truly realized how much work animators had behind the scenes. But duty called, and that week, you’d been assigned to fabric painting at 9:15 AM. So, with a lazy groan, you sat up, and just like every single morning since this nightmare began the first thing your eyes focused on was the occupant of the bed beside you.
Your gaze landed on Niki, a tangle of icy blond hair and heavy sighs. You noticed how his hair was slowly growing out, the dark roots of his natural color peeking through. His lips were slightly pouty in sleep, and he clutched the pillow beneath him like he was afraid someone might steal it. His thick eyebrows, usually furrowed in annoyance, were finally relaxed, making him look almost… innocent. Just a boy too big for a bed too small.
You knew he also had fishing duty at 9:15 AM, but after a week of stolen ID cards and jokes about how you embodied the "good girl" ideal, you decided your "act of kindness" would be letting him sleep. A wicked little smirk tugged at your lips as you thought, I could let him sleep… so he doesn’t wake up in time for the start of activities. You reached out to shake his shoulder but then stopped yourself. With a quiet chuckle, you muttered under your breath as you closed yourself in the bathroom, "Let him be late."
And so, you began your skincare ritual: slathering on pounds of sunscreen (because your skin had to stay flawless, even if you were going to sweat or get thrown into the water), adding a touch of self-tanner (since you still hadn’t achieved the exact shade of tan you wanted), and then pulling on your swimsuit, a T-shirt, athletic shorts, and braiding your hair as you finished, you noticed a stack of Post-its leaning against the mirror. You grabbed the pad and started decorating the bathroom mirror like it was a Christmas tree of warnings.
Green Post-it: I DON’T KNOW WHAT WORLD YOU LIVE IN, NIKI, BUT THERE’S SOMETHING CALLED A CLOSET FOR A REASON -> PUT YOUR HOODES IN THERE (Otherwise, the one on my chair is about to become a mop for the floor, and I don’t think you’d like that—especially since I know some of your hoodies cost as much as two months of our salary).
Blue Post-it: STOP PLAYING THOSE WAR GAMES AT 2 AM. Some people need to dream about things other than explosions and actually sleep peacefully. Try unplugging from those electronic gadgets and falling asleep to the sound of the stream and night crickets.
Yellow Post-it: TRY NOT TO USE MY SAKURA BODY WASH! I don’t think the scent of cherry blossoms helps your bad-boy reputation. What will the other girls think when they smell you reeking of girliness? They’ll just get even more jealous of me…
Orange Post-it: RAZORS HAVE A HOME. IT’S CALLED A ‘PERSONAL CABINET,’ NOT A ‘BATHROOM SINK DECORATION. Also, you’ve got, like, two stray hairs max, stop acting like you’re grooming a lion’s mane."
Pink Post-it: If you feel like breaking the next girl’s heart, don’t bring her into our room. I’d rather not see another girl leaving in tears because of you!
You checked the time: 8:15 AM. Niki hadn’t moved a millimeter, lost in a deep sleep that made him look almost… innocent. Almost, obviously. You grabbed the last Post-it before heading to breakfast and stuck it on the exit door. In your neat but determined handwriting, you wrote:
Oops, looks like your human alarm clock had a technical malfunction this morning or maybe just ‘forgot’ to share her air with you. Hope those five hours of sleep (well, six now) were enough, since you spend your nights doing everything but sleeping. I let you sleep, obviously, because I care’ and not at all because I wanted you to be late… (nope, not at all). Consider this my ‘welcome gift’… or maybe just proof that I can play dirty too, Niki. See you at the lake—if you can keep your eyes open and make it to roll call on time:)
Your favorite roommate:)
Niki was about to explode. He’d grown up with two other girls his age, and sure, there had been disagreements and fights, but you? You outdid them both. When his eyes finally opened and focused on the clock, his first thought wasn’t panic over being late it was a name spat like a curse between his teeth: "Y/n."
When he turned to see if you were still there, he found your bed perfectly made and rolled his eyes. He dragged himself out of bed, cursing you in every language he knew, because you two had an agreement or rather, you had established the rules, and he had grunted in assent, that you’d wake each other up but no, today you’d had the brilliant idea of leaving without calling him. And now, with twenty minutes until activities started, he was still in his boxers, his hair a wild mess.
He stumbled into the bathroom, tripping over one of his own hoodies left on the floor, only to find himself facing an explosion of colorful Post-its on the mirror. He grumbled under his breath as he splashed water on his face.
"She seriously took the time to write out all these stupid rules instead of waking me up?" he muttered through a mouthful of toothpaste foam, glaring at the green Post-it.
"Put away your hoodies… use my body wash… but look at this one..." he said, mimicking your voice and grabbing a cookie from the table while frantically searching for his ID card. The taste of chocolate clashed violently with the minty toothpaste, creating a disgusting mix, and he wondered how Sunoo, one of his best friends could stand that contrast.
Just as he was about to leave, he spotted the last Post-it on the door and read it twice, the cookie still between his teeth: "Because I ‘care’ and not at all because I wanted you to be late… (nope, not at all)."
Niki blinked, then let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a growl and an incredulous laugh.
"‘I care,’ huh?" he muttered to himself, glaring at the yellow paper. "You’re such a little liar, Shorty. You left me to rot in bed so that you could enjoy the show of me running around like an idiot."
He grabbed his ID card, adjusting his cowboy hat with a sharp motion, but his movements were less furious than before. There was a strange electricity humming under his skin. Obviously, that Post-it was a provocation of course it was but it was also glaring proof that the mayor’s daughter, the so-called "untouchable" girl, wasn’t just putting up with his presence. She was studying him. She knew how many hours he slept, that he played video games until 2 AM, and even that he used your body wash. She was paying way too much attention to him.
With a small smirk lighting up his gaze, he tucked the Post-it behind his phone case. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing it, but the idea of carrying a little piece of your neat handwriting with him appealed to him more than he wanted to admit.
And with that, he rushed off to the little ones’ fishing activity, fully intending to drive you just as crazy that day.
The weekend had finally arrived, and the atmosphere at Camp Montana had shifted. While most of the counselors were loading up their cars to escape to the nearest town, searching for parties, cocktails, or luxury hotel retreats to unwind, you had very different plans. The wildlife trail started just a 10-minute walk from the camp’s parking lot, and you were looking forward to two hours of hiking, surrounded by the scent of hay, sun-warmed trees, and the sun beating down on your skin. But what you were really looking forward to was a hearty plate of melted cheese with sausage and mushrooms, topped off with a wild berry panna cotta the meal you’d been dreaming about for days.
That night, you’d gone to bed more excited than usual, simply because you couldn’t wait to spend a day completely free of Niki. When you woke at dawn, the sky was still painted in soft violet hues, and the first birds were beginning to chirp. You stretched, instinctively turning toward Niki’s bed, expecting to see the usual tangle of blond hair and blankets strewn in every direction. But to your surprise, the bed was empty. Your heart gave a little leap, it was the first time you didn’t have to deal with his impossible schedule. That is, until you heard the water running.
You made a slightly confused face and thought to yourself, It’s seven in the morning, and he’s already up? Where is that guy even going? I hope he’s not up to something stupid.
With those questions swirling in your mind, you headed to the kitchen to make coffee, watching as the first rays of sunlight set the mountain peaks ablaze. A few moments later, Niki emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp and tousled. He was wearing a faded ‘80s band T-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, baggy jeans, and sturdy hiking boots. He pulled his New Yorker cap on backward, and you had to admit, reluctantly that his style was growing on you. Maybe even a little too much. You quickly looked away.
"Where are you going?" you asked, clutching your coffee mug like a shield. Niki reached out, snatching a cookie from the table, and took a bite with casual indifference.
"Hiking with you and your little friends," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. You closed your eyes, certain he was joking. When you opened them again, you nearly spilled your coffee into the sink, coughing in surprise.
"Wait, what? You...you’re coming with us? Into the woods? For hours?" You tried to talk him out of it. "I don’t think that’s your ideal habitat."
Niki shrugged, shooting you an amused glance from under the brim of his cap. "What? Surprised? I can walk like a normal person, Shorty. And I can adapt to any natural habitat..especially when you’re there." He winked at you, and you opened your mouth to retort, but no words came out.
"So… you’re telling me you’re coming with us? You’re actually waiting for me?"
He nodded, picking up the mug you’d only taken a sip from and downing the rest of your coffee. "Yeah, just don’t take an hour to get ready." He stepped outside onto the porch, and the word "ready" made your cheeks burn. You didn’t need to be told twice. You rushed to the bathroom, washing your face at lightning speed and braiding your hair into your usual neat plaits. You threw on a ribbed tank top with faded rainbow stripes that gave you a fresh, lively look, a pair of comfortable jeans that ended just above your knees, your hiking boots, and your New Yorker cap. When you stepped outside, grab your backpack and camera, you found Niki lounging on the porch hammock. The moment you appeared, he lifted his gaze and looked you up and down. For a second, his usual smirk faded, replaced by an unreadable expression. Without meaning to, he inhaled, catching the faint scent of your sakura-scented body wash, your signature fragrance in the bungalow and, apparently, his favorite in just a few weeks. With a fluid motion, he hopped off the hammock, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and gestured toward the trail.
You walked in silence to the meeting point, but it was a different kind of silence. Neither of you teased or provoked the other. For once, there was no war between you...
When Lia saw you both approaching, her eyes widened. Okay, sure, you’d told the whole camp that anyone who wanted to join the hike was welcome, but she hadn’t expected to see you arrive with Niki. She rushed over, linking her arm through yours and pulling you a step forward to whisper in your ear:
"And what is he doing here? He’s complained every day about not being able to sleep, and now that he has two whole days to catch up, he’s coming on a hike?"
"He decided to come hiking with us," you replied with a shrug, trying to sound indifferent while feeling Niki’s gaze burning into the back of your neck.
Lia turned to study him properly. Niki was leaning against a tree with effortless ease, observing the forest as if he’d known it his whole life. She was skeptical, she knew a guy like him wouldn’t choose a flat trail and a refuge lunch unless there was a more... personal reason. She looked at you, then at him, and a small, knowing smile spread across her face. Deep down, she already understood what was brewing between you, though she decided not to say anything, she didn’t want to make your cheeks burn any brighter. She couldn’t wait to see how your days together would unfold.
The crisp Montana air was like a jolt of pure energy, invigorating you with every breath. You took long, deep inhales, savoring the sweet sensation of fresh, clean air filling your lungs. You loved walking along the flat trail, surrounded by greenery, the sound of babbling brooks, and the occasional sight of cows grazing in the distance. Every few minutes, people would wave and wish you a good day, making you feel right at home, because deep down, you’d always loved spending time outdoors, and your years at summer camp had only deepened that love for nature.
You and Lia led the group with confidence, knowing every rock and turn of the path by heart after years of hiking it together. Each time, you’d discover something new, something you’d missed the year before. But every time you raised your camera to capture a snow-capped peak, a wildflower, or one of Lia’s funny faces, the lens somehow ended up framing Niki instead. He walked with an effortless swagger, earbuds in, his gaze shifting between the mountain peaks and your figure just a few meters ahead.
It was odd to wear earbuds when you could hear the birds, the cows, the rushing water but by now, you’d grown used to Niki’s quirks. If it made him comfortable, you weren’t about to say anything.
Niki took in the landscape, and it wasn’t half bad—though he’d never admit it out loud. He was a Chicago guy, used to 2 a.m. outings because he couldn’t sleep, extreme sports, and pure adrenaline. The quiet of nature usually bored him to death, but the thought of staying in the empty bungalow without your indignant glares and quick comebacks had convinced him that maybe a hike wasn’t so terrible. He liked watching you—how you were kind to everyone, sunny, the way people gravitated toward you because you gave off the vibe of someone everyone wanted to be around. But with him, you were the exact opposite, fiery, ready to snap the second he opened his mouth to tease you. That contrast was getting under his skin, and it annoyed him more than he cared to admit. It hadn’t even been a month since you’d started sharing your lives, and yet his eyes sought you out everywhere. He hated the effect you had on him.
At one point, the group stopped because a small stream had flooded the trail, creating a muddy, slippery passage. The guys in the group started playing the chivalrous heroes, helping the others cross. Niki quickened his pace until he was right behind you, his warm breath brushing against your earlobe, carrying the scent of mint and something spicy.
"Wren, let me go first," he murmured in that rough voice that sent a shiver down your spine. "Halfway through, I’ll grab your hand and pull you across." He smirked, and when he saw you startle at his sudden closeness, he chuckled. You whipped around, and your faces were inches apart, your cheeks flaming at the unexpected proximity.
"Thanks, but I can manage on my own," you said, proud. "Do you know how many times I’ve hiked this trail? A little water isn’t going to stop me."
He stepped aside with a dramatic flourish, gesturing for you to go ahead. You tried to proceed with dignity, and for a while, it went fine—until you reached a slippery, unstable rock. Panic set in. You hadn’t brought extra clothes or spare shoes, and the thought of ending up soaked in front of everyone—especially him—was a humiliation you couldn’t afford. You heard the others urging you to hurry, a small crowd forming behind you. You closed your eyes, swallowed your pride, and said:
"Niki… could you come to the middle and then go ahead? That way, you can grab my hand and pull me across?"
His smirk widened, lighting up his blond features—he had bet on you needing his help eventually. "Oh, so now you really get that you need me, wren?"
"Please, spare me the Montana hero speech and move that giant body of yours before I throw a rock at your head!" you snapped, trying to hide your embarrassment. You were stuck in the middle of the stream, and everyone was watching but you only cared about the gaze of one person in particular. He didn’t need to be told twice. With an effortless leap, he landed on the stable rock beside you, gesturing for you to hand over your backpack. Then, with infuriating ease, he launched himself toward the grassy bank, landing perfectly dry.
A moment later, he turned and reached his arm out to you. It was long, solid, veins standing out on the back of his hand, adorned with small silver rings. You wobbled slightly toward the water, and he stepped forward to catch you.
"Jump, Y/N. I’ve got you, you won’t fall," he said, rising onto his toes to get closer. You took a deep breath and leaped without thinking. His large, warm hands instantly closed around your waist, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. For an endless moment, you were pressed against his chest, feeling the heat of his body against yours. His minty, musky scent overwhelmed your senses, making you forget where you were. Without meaning to, you nestled closer to him. After a moment, you looked up and found his face just centimeters from yours, that victorious smirk still playing on his lips as he enjoyed the fact that everyone was staring.
"Thanks," you whispered, your cheeks burning as he set you down with maddening slowness. You tucked some loose strands of hair behind your ears, and Niki saw how utterly flustered you were. He found it ridiculously cute but didn’t say a word. Instead, he watched as you grabbed your backpack and hurried to catch up with Lia, who was barely containing a sarcastic comment about what had just happened. You shot her such a fierce look that she immediately raised her hands in surrender.
"Okay, okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut!" she said, laughing.
The trail leading to the refuge was a relentless uphill climb that seemed to never end, but the view waiting at the top made every drop of sweat worth it. Every time you hiked that path and reached the summit, the scenery was breathtaking. When you finally caught sight of the wooden cabin with its umbrellas and lounge chairs neatly lined up along the meadow, a chorus of relieved sighs rose from the group everyone was utterly exhausted.
You and Lia, without needing to say a word, quickened your pace—though maybe that wasn’t the best idea, since it left the others behind and your legs started aching but the moment you stepped inside the refuge, the smell of freshly cooked food wrapped around you, and your stomachs growled in response.
In front of the entrance, a menu written on a chalkboard made your mouths water: melted cheese with sausage and mushrooms, beef stew with potatoes, hot sausage sandwiches with various sides but it was the dessert list that made you both grin: panna cotta with berries, Sacher cake, strudel. You and Lia exchanged a look of pure complicity—you couldn’t wait to dig into those homemade sweets.
"Oh my God, I’m about to die from happiness," you said at the sight of so many treats, and Lia sighed at the sight of a waitress carrying a perfect slice of Sacher cake, already imagining the first bite of that heavenly dessert.
You dropped your backpacks onto a long wooden table, and while the others settled in, you couldn’t resist unbuttoning the first two buttons of your blouse, you wanted to soak up as much sun as possible and relax. You put on your sunglasses and stretched out on a lounge chair like a cat basking in the sun. Lia did the same, but unlike you, Lia was a first-class chatterbox and didn’t stop talking for a second:
"Damn, Y/n, look at Niki," she said, nodding toward the shade of the refuge. "He seriously hates the sun. How can he just sit there in the shade, sulking with that little notebook of his, drawing or writing who knows what, when he could be out here soaking up some sun and relaxing by the stream like normal people?"
You turned slightly and, sure enough, saw Niki leaning against the refuge wall, legs crossed, notebook on his knees, and a scowl that, for some reason, made a stupid little smile tug at your lips. You quickly shook your head.
Since when did you find him cute? you thought. He was everything you shouldn’t want in your life....especially that annoying pout of his, the way he ignored the world around him.
"Good thing he’s over there by himself instead of coming to ruin my free day too," you replied, trying to sound indifferent. Lia chuckled, noticing how you’d glanced at him.
"You know, it’s weird that, purely by coincidence, he ended up coming on this hike with us too. I think he came because…"
You pushed your sunglasses up and shot her a glare. She immediately clamped her mouth shut and raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, we won’t talk about you and him...well, we won’t talk about him at all, Y/n. Just today. I’ll put my headphones in and listen to a podcast or some music for an hour while we enjoy the fresh air and sunshine."
You nodded, but before sliding your sunglasses back down, you couldn’t resist sneaking another look at Niki. He was completely absorbed in sketching, his pencil moving swiftly across the page, his brow slightly furrowed. As if sensing the weight of your gaze, he looked up, and your eyes met. You immediately lowered your sunglasses and pretended to look around before lying back down on the lounge chair, but you could feel your cheeks burning.
Damn it… He always caught you looking at him. Every single time.
On the other side, Niki lowered his gaze back to his notebook, a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at his lips. For the first time in a long while, there was a real person in his sketches, he’d been drawing the mountains, quick strokes and shading, but there was also the profile of a girl with braids taking photos by a stream and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
Lunch at the refuge had been devoured in the blink of an eye—everyone had grabbed food and shared it among laughter and old mountain stories meant to scare the group. But the peace lasted only until dessert arrived. When the waitress placed that slice of warm strudel in front of you, crispy pastry, vanilla ice cream already melting into a delicious cream, you thought you’d died and gone to heaven. You’d been dreaming of that slice for ages, but you hadn’t accounted for Niki’s presence. Without a word, he stretched his fork toward your dessert and, with zero hesitation, broke off half your slice.
"Hey! That’s my cake!" you exclaimed, eyes wide, as Niki didn’t even bother looking at you. With a little smirk, he broke off another piece, and you, furious, jammed your fork between the tines of his to block him. He finally lifted his gaze, those expressive eyes locking onto yours.
"This is my cake, Niki. You have your yogurt, which is probably just as sour as you are," you hissed, aware that half the table was snickering at your little scene.
"Everyone said we should share," he countered, "and I’ll share mine with your dessert." He gestured to your strudel, and you snapped:
"Well, I’d never trade my cake for yogurt I could get in the camp cafeteria!"
Before you could finish, he swooped in with lightning speed, bringing a piece of strudel to his mouth. You opened your lips to protest, but the sound died in your throat as Niki closed his eyes and let out a low, guttural moan, almost like a purr of satisfaction, that made your stomach flutter. He brought a finger to his lips to wipe away a trail of vanilla ice cream, and in that moment, you felt your ears burning.
"Mmm… I get why you don’t want to share," he said, his gaze lingering on your lips a second too long. "It’s delicious. I’ll have another bite." He leaned even closer to your plate, and you snapped:
"Forget it!" You clutched the plate to your chest like it was your most precious treasure, and he kept talking:
"Come on, Y/n, share a little. Don’t be a baby," he teased, and Lia, beside you, burst out laughing.
"You two are like an old married couple fighting over the remote. Y/N, just give him a piece—you know he’ll win anyway."
You shot her a glare. "You’re supposed to be on my side, Lia!" you grumbled, finishing your slice in quick bites while glaring daggers at Niki, who returned to his "boring" yogurt with berries. Halfway through, he held out the spoon with some fruit, but you shook your head proudly. Niki thought you were seriously acting like a child—a little pouty, a little stubborn—but that angry pout of yours made him feel things he shouldn’t, and he noticed how your eyes never left him, even if your glare was murderous.
After eating, the group split up, some hiked higher, while Niki, against all expectations, flopped onto a lounge chair in the sun. By 5 PM, when the air started cooling, Lia and the others approached you.
"We’re heading back, Y/n. Coming?" she asked.
You glanced at Niki, fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. It was strange: back at the bungalow, he fought insomnia until 2 AM, but here, on an uncomfortable wooden lounge chair, he looked like an angel (maybe a fallen one), wrestling with his demons. Without realizing it, you said:
"I’ll stay another half hour. We share the bungalow—I’ll make this sacrifice and head down with him."
Lia looked slightly surprised and glanced at the dark clouds gathering over the peaks. "Okay, but don’t take too long, the weather here changes in a heartbeat. Text me when you get back to camp."
You nodded and sat beside him, trying to focus on The Mistake by Elle Kennedy, but the words danced on the page. You’d been stuck on the same page for 10 minutes. When only a few people remained, you stood up and poked his back with a finger.
"Niki, stop sleeping. We need to go down," you said, but there was no response, you realized he had headphones in. You yanked them out with a sharp motion, cutting off the music.
"Niki Nishimura! We have to go back! You can sleep at the bungalow!"
He opened his eyes slowly and saw your braids swaying inches from his face. He let out a lazy, warm chuckle, and you huffed.
"What’s so funny? It’s past five, and it’s about to rain!"
Instead of answering, Niki reached out and tugged lightly on one of your braids, twirling it around his fingers with a familiarity that stole your breath...only your family ever played with your hair like that. You slapped his hand away.
"Are you crazy? Don’t touch my hair again, and let’s go—look what’s coming over the mountains!" You pointed to the dark clouds forming, and he sighed, stretching like a cat. In the movement, his ’80s band T-shirt rode up, and your eyes widened, right there, on his V-line, was a tattoo… red lips? They looked perfect, inked in such a scandalous spot that it made your head spin. Whose lips were those?
You shook your head, heat flooding your face. Grabbing your backpack, you spun around and jabbed a finger at him. "I’m not waiting for you anymore! Everyone else left an hour ago, and if you want to stay here and get struck by lightning, be my guest—because I’ve already been too nice waiting for you, and I don’t even know why!"
You stormed off, heart pounding at the memory of that tattooed skin shaped like lips, but after a few minutes, a familiar shadow fell over you. You turned and saw Niki, less than two steps behind, hair tousled, backpack slung over his shoulder, and that usual scowl etched on his face. You rolled your eyes, but deep down, the fact that he hadn’t left you alone sent a strange, annoying twist in your stomach. You nearly stopped in your tracks, and he said:
"Walk, wren," he murmured, brushing past you, leaving the scent of mint in the air. "Or I’ll have to fish you out of the mud when it starts raining!"
You hated Niki Nishimura with every fiber of your being, or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as the rain poured down, turning the Montana trail into a slippery, muddy mess. And for once, Niki had been right. Just minutes earlier, he’d said, "I’ll have to fish you out of the mud,"—and now, his words had become reality. You wanted to scream and kill him at the same time. The storm had only been raging for five minutes, but the water was already cascading down in sheets, and you clutched your backpack over your head in a desperate, useless attempt to stay dry. Meanwhile, you were seething—at yourself for not leaving with the others, at Niki for walking with an infuriating calm, as if he actually enjoyed this situation.
You shot him glowering looks until a deafening crack split the sky, thunder roaring through the mountains. You froze, paralyzed by the ominous sound. Everyone—your father, every camp instructor—had always drilled into you: "Never stay near trees during a mountain storm." And here you were, smack in the middle of a giant forest, your heart pounding with fear—for yourself, for Niki, for the fact that something terrible could happen to either of you.
Niki, realizing you’d stopped, whirled around. His usual bored expression vanished in an instant when he saw you—motionless, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders trembling. In three long strides, he was at your side.
"Why did you stop? We need to move!" he shouted over the rain, but you just stared at him, wide-eyed, hair plastered to your face.
"We’re going to get struck by lightning, Niki! It’s your fault! We’re still over an hour from camp, and we’re in the middle of nowhere!" you panicked. Another thunderclap, even closer, made the ground tremble. Before you could say another word, you felt Niki’s large, warm hand grab yours, and there was no time to protest—he started running, dragging you along in a frantic sprint through the downpour. You had to match his pace, even though you weren’t used to it.
"Do you even know where the hell you’re going?!" you yelled, but Niki didn’t answer. At the fork that led back to the summer camp, you watched in horror as he suddenly veered left.
"Are you SERIOUSLY going left?! The camp is to the RIGHT! Niki, I swear if I die because of you, my ghost will haunt you for the rest of your EXISTENCE—no, for ETERNITY!" you screamed. But instead of panicking, Niki burst out laughing a liberating, wild laugh, the kind of someone who hadn’t felt this alive and free in years, far from Chicago’s underground races and his parents’ problems. When he finally spotted an old abandoned barn between the trees, he pointed at it with a sharp gesture. As you stumbled inside, you were furious and immediately yanked your hand away as if it burned.
"I can’t believe this… How unlucky can I be? Why didn’t I just go down with Lia and the others? Why did I have the brilliant idea of waiting for you?!" you ranted, shivering from the cold. Niki shook the water from his hair like a wet dog and looked down at you—you seemed even smaller and more vulnerable, soaked and trembling.
"You should be thanking me, actually," he said with a vague gesture. "We’re safe, under a roof that’s protecting us from killer lightning and the storm."
You raised an eyebrow. "Thank you? For what, exactly?"
He huffed, stepping dangerously close to you. "Because you didn’t even know this shack existed. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be out there, frozen like a statue in the dark, drenched, and panicking in the storm. But hey, no problem, Y/n." He smirked, and you opened your mouth to retort but another flash of lightning lit up the sky outside, followed by thunder that seemed to shake the barn’s foundations. You shuddered violently, and before you even realized it, you stepped closer to him, seeking protection—though you were still seething.
"It’s all my fault…" you murmured, voice trembling. "I should’ve gone down with the others and left you there sleeping on the lounge chair. Now we’re stuck here all night? No, I’m NOT spending the night in here! What if a wolf comes in? Or a bear and eats us both? Or the roof collapses...."
But before you could finish, your words were cut off by Niki’s lips crashing against yours. You froze, stunned by the unexpected softness of his mouth. Your thoughts spiraled:
What is he doing? Is he actually kissing me? Should I pull away? Will it be awkward? Will he realize it’s my first kiss?
But every doubt vanished when you felt his lips part slightly, inviting you to respond. This kiss was nothing like you’d imagined—not the rough, aggressive kind you’d expect from a guy like him, always surrounded by girls. Instead, there was an unexpected sweetness that stole your breath as his lips gently coaxed yours open. Your hands acted on their own—one fisted his soaked T-shirt, feeling the heat of his chest, while the other rested on his solid shoulder. You parted your lips further, letting him deepen the kiss, and you sighed into it, tasting the lingering vanilla ice cream mixed with the mint of his breath. Niki let out a low, satisfied hum against your mouth, his lips lightly sucking your lower lip, a barely-there smirk forming between you—as if he knew he’d finally shut you up.
But then reality hit like a slap. You jerked back, pressing a trembling hand to your mouth, your heart pounding in your throat.
Niki had just stolen your first kiss...your very first kiss.
He stood still, towering over you with wet hair falling onto his forehead, watching you with a small smirk—finally, he’d managed to shut you up.
"You…" you whispered, pointing at him with a trembling finger. "Why did you kiss me?" you shrieked, shocked. Niki just shrugged with an infuriating nonchalance.
"I wanted to shut you up somehow, and I figured kissing you was the quickest way. That’s all… You were rambling too much, Y/n, and I hate people who talk too much."
Your cheeks burned, and you didn’t know whether to slap him or kiss him again. You opened your mouth to unleash a string of insults, to tell him how arrogant and presumptuous he was, but the words died in your throat. With a smooth, unembarrassed motion, Niki pulled off his soaked shirt, leaving you frozen, your eyes glued to his body—sculpted like marble, dark lines of tattoos snaking across his skin in designs you couldn’t quite decipher. But your gaze inevitably dropped lower, to that defined V-line disappearing into his wet jeans, to that lip-shaped tattoo that seemed both scandalous and sexy. Your cheeks flared with heat, and you snapped your eyes downward, pretending sudden interest in the muddy tips of your shoes.
Meanwhile, Niki pulled out a gray long-sleeved shirt from his backpack too thin for the dropping temperature—then a thick, carefully folded gray hoodie. You assumed it was for him, but instead, he stepped closer. Seeing you speechless for once, he teased with a chuckle:
"Damn, if kissing you or showing off my tattoos is what it takes to shut you up, I should’ve done it ages ago back at the bungalow. You never stop talking from morning to night!" he said with an annoying smirk.
"You’re an idiot!" you snapped, giving him a little shove, but he didn’t budge an inch. Instead, he draped his hoodie over your shoulders.
"Take off that blouse and put this on," he ordered, his gaze suddenly serious as he watched you shiver. "At least you’ll stay warm and won’t freeze to death before we get back to camp, otherwise, you’ll have a fever of 40 tomorrow."His eyes lingered on you, and you wanted to strangle him, but your chattering teeth wouldn’t let you play tough. The hoodie was soft, plush inside, and you nodded, but first, you muttered:
"Turn around. I need to change."
Niki shot you a challenging look that lasted a couple of seconds, then sighed and turned his back.
"Don’t you dare turn around, Niki, seriously, or..."
He burst out laughing, a low chuckle echoing against the wooden walls. "Or what, wren? You’ll kiss me this time?"
You wanted to scream, but while he kept teasing you, you moved fast as lightning, peeling off your soaked blouse that clung to your skin like ice. You slipped into his hoodie....massive, the sleeves swallowing your hands completely, the hem falling to mid-thigh but the worst… or best part? The smell. It was intensely him: peppermint and something spicy, and without thinking, you buried your face in the high collar, inhaling his scent.
Niki turned slowly, expecting you to be done but when he saw you drowned in his clothes, your nose pressed into the fabric as you sought his scent, he froze. His mind raced: You looked so small in his hoodie, like it was made for you. And he hated how good you looked in his clothes, it drove him crazy. You were the classic "good girl" who should’ve stayed far away from someone like him… and yet, at the same time, he wanted to break you, make you his, just to prove to the world that even good girls needed a guy like him.
You realized he was staring at you longer than usual, and you whispered, "Thanks."
Niki raised an eyebrow, surprised by your response. "Whoa, I should mark this day on the calendar! The Princess actually said thank you without a judge forcing her!" he teased, chuckling. You rolled your eyes, trying to reclaim some dignity.
"You should thank me," you said, puffing up slightly as you clutched the long sleeves against your chest. He crossed his arms, amused by your answer.
"Oh? And what exactly should I thank you for?"
"For waiting for you!" you replied proudly. "Otherwise, you’d still be here asleep on that lounge chair in the middle of the storm." You shot him a glare, and Niki smirked, running a hand through his damp, icy-blond hair. He didn’t thank you with words, but his gaze softened for a moment before he turned toward a wooden ladder leading to the upper level of the barn, where dry hay awaited.
You walked to the heavy door, slamming it shut to block out the howling wind. Meanwhile, Niki tested the sturdiness of the ladder rungs with a sharp tug. The old wood groaned slightly, but he figured it could hold your combined weight. He climbed first, and when he reached the top, he found a small loft filled with the sweet scent of freshly gathered hay—soft enough to lie down on. There were even old burlap sacks stuffed with raw wool serving as makeshift pillows. It wasn’t luxury, but compared to the mud and rain outside, it felt like paradise.
"Wren, we can stretch out up here until the storm passes," he called, leaning over the edge as he watched you climb. Niki unconsciously bit his lower lip, his hoodie nearly swallowed you whole, your usually neat braids half-undone and messy, your lips still slightly swollen and trembling from the earlier kiss. For a microsecond, he thought you looked cute before shaking his head to banish the dangerous thought.
The space up there was cramped, so you kicked off your shoes, mimicking his movement, and knelt on the hay, trying to ignore how your legs brushed against his. You looked around, careful not to let your eyes linger too often on his face or his body.
"They’re definitely looking for us," you murmured, trying to reassure yourself as the wind howled through the cracks in the roof. "The camp director and all the counselors must have already sent out search parties. They’ll find us soon." You watched the sky grow darker, lit only by the flashes of thunder that made the entire structure tremble. Without thinking, you scooted closer to Niki, who was already half-reclined, a strand of hay caught between his lips, lazily shifting it with his tongue.
"I bet they’re worried about you, wren, not me," he said with a hint of cynicism, his intense gaze fixed on you. "You’re everyone’s favorite at camp—the perfect girl who never breaks the rules and I’m just… me." His eyes drifted to a fixed point in the barn.
"That’s not true," you countered, pulling your legs against your chest and burying your chin in the collar of his hoodie. "I bet all the girls who flock around you, the ones who sigh when you walk by and gossip about you—they’re all worried about you!"
Niki propped himself up on an elbow, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he detected the sarcastic edge—and maybe a hint of irritation—in your voice.
"Mmm, someone’s jealous, or maybe..."
You didn’t let him finish, swatting his arm playfully. "Stop it!" you snapped, glaring at him. He chuckled at your flushed cheeks, and another thunderclap tore through the sky, so loud it felt like it exploded right above you. You visibly shuddered, inching even closer to him.
"Are you scared of thunder, or are you just cold, Shorty?" he asked, looking at you almost protectively. You sighed, feeling a little pressured by his gaze.
"Don’t make fun of me, but… both. I was stupid not to bring a change of clothes like you did, and thank God you gave me your hoodie even if I know you’re cold too right now."
Niki murmured that you were perceptive, and you closed your eyes, feeling exhaustion and the chill in your bones as you tried to relax a little.
"Look, I know you don’t like physical contact, and you can’t stand me and trust me, the feeling is mutual but we’re human, right? Maybe we could… I don’t know, keep each other warm." You blurted out what you were thinking, though you might have phrased it poorly, because Niki’s eyes shot open, almost shocked. He nearly choked on his own saliva at what you’d just said.
"You know what you just said sounds really bad, right, Y/n? When a girl asks a guy to ‘keep her warm’… we tend to think of things that are a little more intimate than just sharing a blanket." He laughed, teasing you, and you immediately covered your face with your hands, feeling your cheeks burn.
"Oh my God, no! That’s not what I meant! This is so embarrassing! I gave my first kiss to a guy I can’t stand, I’m trapped in a falling-apart barn, I’m freezing to death, and..."
Before you could finish, Niki’s strong arms wrapped around you with a determination that brooked no argument, pulling you against his chest. Without meaning to, you nestled against him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, your hands instinctively resting over his heart. For a moment, you froze, feeling it beating fast—too fast for someone who pretended to be so calm.
Niki stayed still for a few seconds, his breath catching in his throat. He was the guy everyone had warned you to stay away from—the one who had been the first to brush against those lips that tasted of vanilla and far too much innocence. He could imagine it, really, how it had been your first kiss, from the way you’d hesitated, from the sweet, uncertain tension in your movements. But hearing you say it out loud while trembling in his arms made him feel something he’d never experienced before. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of your head against his chest, and for the first time, his usual arrogance gave way to a strange, unfamiliar curiosity.
"Wren… I never would’ve guessed I’d be your first kiss," he said quietly. "Between summer camp and university, half the guys are crazy about you. I just assumed at least one of them would’ve had the guts to kiss you by now."
You stiffened instantly, burying your face deeper into his hoodie. "Let’s not get into that chapter of my life. It’s embarrassing…" you mumbled, trying to turn away to hide the blush now creeping down your neck. But Niki didn’t let you. He held you close, forcing you to stay put until you both settled more comfortably in the hay. He stretched out fully while you propped yourself up on one elbow, trapped between his body and the slow, lazy circles his finger began tracing through the damp ends of your hair.
"Undo your braids, Y/N, or tomorrow you’ll have impossible knots, and it’ll all be my fault for dragging you through the storm," he teased, trying to lighten the tension between you. He twirled a strand around his finger, watching the way the dim lightning reflected in your hair. You pouted.
"You undo them, since you like playing with my hair so much!”
Niki didn’t need to be told twice. He looked at you intently, his fingers deftly unraveling the braids. When your hair tumbled loose over your shoulders and into his hand, he ran his fingers through it, almost enchanted by its softness. The scent of cherry filled the air, overwhelming the usual mint and rain, and for a moment, he thought he’d want to bury his face in your hair every damn morning, not just when you invaded the bungalow bathroom with that fragrance. But he quickly pushed the thought away when he saw you nervously tucking the strands behind your ears.
"I’m sorry I stole your first kiss," he started, but he didn’t look at you. "I bet you wanted to give it to some perfect, upper-class guy—you know, the kind with a perfectly ironed shirt and his whole future already mapped out."
You rolled your eyes and sighed deeply at the sudden chill in his tone. "Well, I can’t go back now, and my dream of giving my first kiss to someone I actually like—someone who actually likes me—is officially gone."
Niki was staring at you too intensely, his face too close, and said:
"Well, since we’re stuck here… why don’t you kiss me this time? You know, just for practice… Think of it as training for your future ‘perfect guy.’ At least you’ll know what to do when you meet him."
Your eyes widened, your cheeks burning. "What? No! Are you crazy?" you stammered, trying not to look at him, but he kept teasing you.
"Don’t tell me you’re scared to kiss me," he smirked, closing the distance between you by another centimeter. "Because if you’re scared, it means you’re scared to admit you actually like me." He was showing off, and you seriously wanted to slap him.
"I don’t like you, Niki, and I never will. Get that through your head," you shot back with all the confidence you could muster, even though your heart was pounding wildly against your ribs. You refused to meet his gaze, but he just grinned.
"Good. Then kiss me, Shorty. If you don’t like me, there’s no risk, right? You can just use me as your guinea pig for practice," he continued, amused by your flustered state. He leaned in even closer, his mouth a breath away from yours.
"Unless… you’re not doing it because you think that if you kiss me again, you won’t be able to stop."
But you didn’t let him finish. Just like he had done to you earlier, you slammed your lips against his to shut him up once and for all.
Niki smiled immediately against your mouth, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you hard against him.
Your lips were still uncertain, guided by a shyness that Niki seemed eager to devour with every touch but he also found it sweet. When you felt his tongue brush against your lower lip, he began to suck on those lips no one had ever dared kiss before, and a stifled moan escaped your throat. Niki thought he might just be the luckiest guy in the world, finding himself in this barn with you nearly in his arms, kissing like this.
The hand that had been resting over his heart slid lower, tracing the taut planes of his stomach, while Niki buried his fingers in your loose hair, pressing his palm against the back of your neck to keep you from pulling away—to pull you even closer, because he didn’t want this moment to end. He wanted you to feel just how much you were driving him crazy, and you sighed against his mouth, dazed by the sensations he was giving you with just kisses.
Then, driven by an instinct you didn’t even know you had, you leaned forward and imitated his gesture, timidly sucking on his lower lip. Niki let out a low growl, shifting slightly beneath you as he felt how you were trying—so shyly, so clumsily to drive him wild. But you’d been driving him wild since the first time he’d seen you in the bungalow. He craved more friction, more contact, as if even the smallest space between your bodies was still too much—though there was none at all. Without warning, he pushed his tongue past your lips, and when your tongues met for the first time, you both moaned.
Niki lowered you completely onto the hay, his weight hovering over you not crushing you, but making you feel protected by his warmth, by him. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you so close you could feel every muscle in his body pressed against yours. You kissed for minutes that felt like hours, not just fleeting kisses, but a mix of shy discovery, playful dominance, and restraint, your lips wandering to his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Both of you were drowning in a whirlwind of sensations and emotions you’d never felt before, and neither wanted to stop.
You pulled away just long enough to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You felt his fingers trace the skin at your side, slipping beneath the hem of the hoodie as he held you possessively against him.
"Niki…" you breathed, but he didn’t stop looking at you. Instead, he pressed a finger to your swollen, glossy lips and whispered:
"Don’t think, Wren. Just kiss me."
You didn’t need to be told twice. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him back to you with a force that surprised him, playing with the icy-blond strands at his nape, tugging lightly. Niki groaned against your lips, sending a shiver through you, and you continued to alternate between deep kisses and playful nips, exploring each other in that makeshift refuge while the Montana cold stayed locked outside those walls. For the first time, you felt truly warm but also protected by someone everyone had warned you to stay away from.
Eventually, exhaustion claimed one of you first, and soon, the only sounds in the barn were the drizzling rain and your steady breaths as you fell asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.
After that weekend trapped in the barn, reality hit hard again, because even though you’d kissed and fallen asleep together, you’d hoped those kisses might have changed something in Niki, made him softer or more "human." But you’d made the biggest mistake of your life thinking that, because Niki had gone back to being his usual self or maybe even worse.
His cynicism had doubled, his taunts had become more relentless, driving you crazy and making you curse him 24h-24h. He teased you endlessly but at the same time made it clear that nothing had happened between you, that those kisses had meant nothing. It was frustrating because you had to see him all the time, and you would’ve changed bungalows every day if you could. But when you finally decided you’d had enough, you found yourself walking near the rec area to make sure the kids didn’t wander off and then you saw something surreal, yet sweet enough to warm your heart.
Niki was sitting on the grass with his legs crossed, his back against an oak tree. In front of him was Nina, one of the liveliest little girls in the group, who never left him alone. As usual, Nina was chattering away, telling him how much she adored you and how badly she wanted braids just like yours because her little hands couldn’t manage to gather all her hair. You hid behind a tree, your heart beating strangely.
You saw that Niki wasn’t ignoring her like he usually did. Instead, he ran a hand through Nina’s hair to smooth it, then began braiding it with millimeter precision, his tongue slightly peeking out between his lips in pure concentration a gesture you knew well, one he always made when he was deeply focused on something. As he braided, Nina started talking again:
"I didn’t think someone like you would know how to braid!" Nina exclaimed with the blunt honesty of a child who wanted all his attention. "I bet you only know how because you can’t stop watching Y/N do hers in front of the mirror or when it’s too hot." She giggled, and you saw Niki freeze for a split second before chuckling and shaking his head.
"Oops, you caught me, Nina," he said, and you felt your cheeks warm slightly because you’d never noticed him watching you braid your hair.
"I bet you and Y/n will end up together someday, and you’ll invite me to your wedding in a few years!" Nina said, tilting her head. "Even though I’m just a little kid, I can see how you look at each other, and you should be nicer to her, like you are to me right now." You nodded in agreement and wanted to rush over to high-five Nina and hug her, but you saw Niki give her hair a playful tug when those words left her mouth.
"Ahia!" she protested, swatting his arm, and Niki’s expression suddenly turned melancholic. He grew serious, and you heard him say:
"Y/n deserves a prince charming like in the fairy tales you read, Nina. She doesn’t deserve someone like me… I’m not what she deserves, and I never will be." He tied off the braids, and those words hit you hard because everyone had warned you to stay away from him, and now even he was saying he wasn’t the guy you deserved. You stood frozen as Nina hugged him, barely reaching his waist, and told him to stop being "the bad guy" just because he had tattoos and a scowl. Niki hugged her back tightly, then took out his phone to show her the braids in the camera.
"They’re beautiful, Niki! Thank you! When I see Y/n, I’ll tell her you did them!" Nina said, giggling as she ran off to find you. Niki shot her a look, calling after her:
"Nina! Don’t you dare tell her I did them!" he yelled as she scampered away laughing, and an involuntary smile tugged at your lips. But that sweet moment was wiped away just hours later.
You were near the showers by the lake when you heard a group of counselors giggling. At the center was Chloe, a head counselor like you, but oozing confidence from every pore. She was touching her lips with a dreamy, almost theatrical air as she told her friends what had happened between her and Niki the night before.
"Girls, I swear, Niki is… unreal," Chloe said, adjusting her low-cut tank top with a practiced gesture to draw the attention of the guys fixing the boats. "Last night, behind the tool shed… we kissed for who knows how long, and girls, I’ve never had a kiss like that. Niki’s rough, and let’s be honest, he always wants to be in control, but he knows exactly what he’s doing with those lips of his, they were practically on my..." She giggled. "I’ve never felt so… dominated before, and you all know I’m usually the one calling the shots with guys!"
You rolled your eyes, trying to push back the sudden sting in your eyelids at the thought of Niki kissing someone else as you walked back to the bungalow, you wondered:
Why do my eyes feel like this?
You were furious with yourself because you knew who Niki was a heartbreaker, a guy who lived for moments, not promises. You didn’t want to fall for him like everyone else… but maybe you already had. And you still had another month and a half of sharing a bungalow with him before returning to Chicago.
A month and a half had passed since the start of summer camp, and some of the kids, along with a few counselors had already headed back to Chicago. Thankfully, Lia had stayed with you for the entire summer. You’d said goodbye to all the kids and some of the counselors, and that very evening, fifteen new kids and four new counselors two guys and two girls had arrived.
Two weeks had passed since John’s arrival, and for Niki, every single second he saw or heard him was a struggle not to roll his eyes. John was the exact type of guy Niki despised: a campus swimmer with a blinding smile straight out of a YouTube ad preview, the kind that made you want to skip the video in the first five seconds. He studied English literature and flaunted quotes from authors who had been dead and buried for centuries. It was infuriating.
As you leaned over to tighten the kids’ life jackets, John hovered around you like always—ever since he’d arrived at camp, he’d had the brilliant idea of positioning himself as the prince charming you supposedly needed.
"Be careful, Y/n, don’t strain your back too much. Let me pull these canoe ropes—I wouldn’t want you to overdo it," John said, resting his hand on your shoulder for a second too long for Niki’s liking. Niki watched with a groan of despair as John flirted like an idiot something he’d been witnessing for days now: John sitting next to you at meals, John constantly finding excuses to touch you (though you were reluctant to his advances). One morning, Niki had even found him standing outside your bungalow at 7:30 AM, flashing that smug smile of his. Niki had wanted to make him disappear in zero seconds.
Let’s just say Niki didn’t like John, and the feeling was mutual. So when John found out you were one of the few girls sharing a room with a guy, he’d insisted on asking for explanations. But you’d told him there was nothing to be done, the pairs were set for the summer, and deep down, you didn’t mind staying with Niki. John, however, wasn’t thrilled with your arrangement, especially since everyone could see—and hear that there was still something unresolved between you two.
On the dock, while Niki waited his turn to get into the canoe with Nina, Lia approached him, thoroughly enjoying the show of his irritation toward you and John, a smirk playing on her lips.
"Mmm, someone here doesn’t seem to tolerate another alpha male in his territory," Lia murmured, crossing her arms as Niki snapped his head toward her, eyes narrowed.
"Mind your own business, Lia. That guy’s just… a loser."
Lia chuckled, watching as Niki couldn’t stop glancing at you for even a second.
"A loser, huh? Well, that ‘loser’ is getting all the attention you used to have just a few weeks ago! When are you going to stop acting like a jerk and show her who you really are? She won’t wait forever, Niki. It’s obvious from a mile away that you feel something for Y/n and it’s definitely not hate… Let’s just say ever since you kissed in that barn, the tension between you two could power the entire camp."
Niki froze for a second at Lia’s words, his expression confused. "How do you know that..." He cut himself off, realizing of course you and Lia were best friends and best friends told each other everything. Niki closed his eyes for a moment, and against his will, his mind played tricks on him, memories flooded back: the feel of your fingers in his hair, the way you’d responded to his kiss with that shy hesitation that had made his heart race, the way you’d clung to himl ike you were afraid he’d disappear from that barn.
When he opened his eyes again and saw how you smiled at that guy, he thought: John doesn’t know and never will what it’s like to feel you tremble when someone kisses you, how good it feels to be touched by you, how beautiful you look beneath him with swollen lips, neither of you able to stop kissing…
"I don’t feel anything for her, Lia. She could start dating that John kid tomorrow, and I wouldn’t care," Niki said, looking down for the first time in minutes and deep down, he didn’t even believe himself. Lia shook her head, looking at him with a pity that made him furious.
"You know, you’re not very good at lying, Niki. I thought you were smarter than this, but you’re just like every other guy in the world: the second you realize you feel something, you refuse to face the consequences. What’s the matter? Afraid that admitting even a scrap of emotion will make your ‘bad boy from Chicago’ aura vanish into thin air?" she taunted.
"You don’t know shit about me, Lia, and it’s better if your best friend stays as far away from me as possible… I’m not the happy-ending type, and she doesn’t need someone like me ruining her life," Niki hissed. Lia started walking toward her canoe but paused to land one last jab.
"Cut the tough-guy act, Niki, because if you keep this up, you’ll end up alone forever and trust me, a life with no one brave enough to love you, and no one you’re brave enough to love, isn’t much of a life. I’ll say it one more time: she won’t wait for you forever, Niki. So make a move, because honestly? I don’t like John either." She gave him a little smirk before walking off, leaving Niki standing there, motionless, as you climbed into the canoe with John’s help—and Niki watched as John’s hand brushed your waist to steady you.
In that moment, Niki didn’t just feel jealousy. He felt something else maybe the realization that he could lose you soon. And Niki wasn’t the type to lose something he wanted.
That evening, Niki was sprawled on his bed which was slightly too small for his height, relaxing and playing on his Nintendo Switch. He tried to focus on the game, but it was getting harder and harder not to steal glances at the creaky bathroom door you both shared. From the other side, your slightly off-key voice drifted out as you sang Legendary Lovers by Katy Perry, laughing between verses. You’d been in there way too long, usually, it took you ten minutes to throw on one of your matching, childish pajama sets after slathering on some weird aloe vera mask from too much sun. But when the door finally swung open, Niki expected to see you in your usual sleepwear.
Instead, you stood there in a short, black, slightly glittery top and a denim skirt that left your tanned legs bare. Your hair wasn’t in its usual braids—it was loose and wild, a mess of curls and waves tumbling over your shoulders. The scent of sakura hit him immediately, now so familiar it felt like home. Without realizing it, he let his Switch slide onto the comforter and propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze locking onto you as you adjusted yourself in front of the mirror.
"Where are you going, Y/n?" Niki asked, already dreading your answer. "As far as I know, there’s no bonfire tonight, and we’ve got to be up at seven tomorrow. Every human on this planet needs at least seven or eight hours of sleep." He mentally cursed himself, him, the guy who spent nights staring at the ceiling because of insomnia, was lecturing you about sleep.
"I’m going out," you said, checking your reflection in the mirror. Niki huffed, sitting up sharply. "I see your observational skills are still top-notch, Shorty. Obviously, you’re going out but where and with who? Not that it takes a genius to figure it out."
You didn’t answer. You were too focused on applying a bit of lip gloss that made your lips look even more tempting than they had that night in the barn. The memory alone made Niki’s fists clench.
"I bet you’re going out with John, huh?" he asked, almost laughing. "What’s the plan tonight? Is he gonna gift you a fairy-tale book or recite some famous 19th-century author to flirt with you?"
You whipped around. "Yes, I’m going out with him, and stop making fun of him. At least he’s kind a concept you struggle to understand, especially when it comes to me." You jabbed a finger at him, and right then, your phone buzzed on the table. A message from John: "I’m here."
When you looked up, Niki’s eyes were still locked on you and you on him. The tension in the room was electric, thick enough to cut with a knife. Neither of you wanted to make the first move. You were both too stubborn, too proud, neither breaking eye contact for even a second until Niki finally spoke:
"Go on, Y/n. Wouldn’t want to keep your dear John waiting. Just remember...midnight curfew, or this bungalow might turn into a pumpkin… and I might turn into something dark." He smirked, and you looked at him with a small smile before heading for the door.
"Don’t worry, Niki. I’ll be back by midnight. And don’t stay up waiting for me."
The door clicked shut behind you, and Niki stayed frozen, listening to the sound of your voice greeting John outside. He dragged a hand down his face, groaning as he flopped back onto the bed, running his fingers through his hair.
Like hell I’m not staying up waiting for you, Wren.
Your date with John was going perfectly...too perfectly, perhaps and that was the main problem. John seemed like the prince charming every mother would dream of for her daughter.
You were sitting on the dock, wrapped in a blanket he had spread out with maniacal precision, surrounded by snacks and drinks arranged like a scene from a 2000s romantic movie. Everything was perfect: fireflies dancing over the water, stars twinkling in the sky, the moon casting a silver glow on the lake, creating an almost fairy-tale atmosphere. John was attentive, kind, funny, and you laughed a lot, he was the kind of guy who could put anyone at ease. For any other girl, this would have been the perfect date. But there was one problem for you: you felt nothing.
There was no tension, no attraction, no shiver running down your spine when someone looked at you in a certain way. John was perfect, yes but too perfect, like a character straight out of a book, one of those flawless ones, without the fire that made you feel alive. You couldn’t stand those kinds of characters because everyone had their demons, and it was beautiful to see people’s vulnerabilities and flaws. But John seemed to have none or he was just really good at hiding them.
"When we get back to Chicago, I’d love for you to come see me compete in the regional swimming championships. And who knows, if I win, I might even get you to wear a hoodie with my name on it," he said, smiling at you. You nodded, smiling back.
"It would be nice to come watch you. I’ve never been to a swimming meet only football or basketball games," you replied, looking around. He nodded.
"Then it’ll be an honor to be the first swimmer you come see at the campus," he said, preening slightly. A moment later, a light breeze picked up, tousling your hair. A few strands fell against your lips, still glossy, and you laughed but at the same time, you looked up, annoyed, because you hated when your hair stuck to your lips. You tried to brush it away, but John was faster. Gently, he leaned in and tucked the strands behind your ear.
"There you go, Y/n," he said, his hands lingering near your face for a second too long. Your eyes met, and in that moment, you thought only one thing:
Don’t kiss me. Don’t kiss me. Don’t kiss me.
But John couldn’t hear your thoughts. For him, this was the climactic moment, like in a romance novel or movie where the two protagonists finally kiss and confess their feelings. He saw you there, cheeks flushed from the wind, hair tousled, illuminated by the moon’s silver reflection on the water and he thought there was no better moment to lean in and kiss you. Without thinking, he slowly leaned toward you, closing his eyes and tilting his face, ready to claim what he thought was a silent invitation but deep down, it wasn’t. You immediately caught the scent of his expensive, good cologne, so different from Niki’s that sharp, spicy peppermint that only he could pull off.
Before John’s lips could brush yours, your body reacted on its own a survival reflex. You jerked upright, the wooden planks creaking under your shoes. When John opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the empty space where your face had been a second before. You stood a step back from him, arms crossed over your chest as if protecting yourself from a closeness you didn’t want. He remained half-reclined on the blanket, wearing the most humiliated, confused expression you’d ever seen on a guy.
"I… I’m sorry, John," you whispered, feeling just as embarrassed. You seriously wished you could vanish right then. "I can’t… I can’t return the kiss or anything else." You took another step back.
"Y/n, wait...did I do something wrong?" he asked, trying to get up, but his voice was thick with the awkwardness of someone who’d just been brutally friend-zoned.
"No, you were perfect," you answered sincerely and it was true. John had been sweet to you from the start, and for any other girl, this date would have been perfect. "I’m the problem, not you. This whole date you planned was magical… but not for that’s the point. I’m sorry, again."
And without giving him a chance to respond, you turned and walked quickly toward the bungalows, not stopping even when you heard your name called faintly in the distance. You kept your head down, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your heart pounding almost relieved that you hadn’t kissed John back and you realized it was pounding because you didn’t want a perfect prince, you wanted a guy with a thousand flaws, a thousand fears of admitting what he truly felt for you.
You tiptoed in, your heart still pounding from your hasty escape from the dock, hoping against hope that Niki had somehow fallen into one of his rare deep sleeps, though you knew there was a 99% chance he was awake (that guy barely slept at all). Your hope died the moment your eyes landed on the fully lit room and his hulking figure.
Niki wasn’t asleep. He was lying on his side, his feet hanging off the edge of the mattress, one hand propping up his blond head, and the other clutching your copy of The Mistake by Elle Kennedy, the cover already creased. Your eyes widened in horror at the sight.
"What the hell are you doing, Niki? Put that book down right now!" you shrieked, your voice shattering the silence as your cheeks burned.
He jolted at the sound of your voice clearly not expecting you back so soon but recovered his usual arrogance in a heartbeat. As you lunged for the book, Niki sat up and lifted his arm toward the ceiling. At over 185 cm tall, reaching it was like trying to scale a skyscraper.
"Damn, it’s not even 11:30, and you’re already back? That date must’ve been a disaster, Shorty!" he chuckled, flashing that infuriating smirk. You wanted to slap him.
"My date is none of your business! Give me back my book, now!" you huffed, rising onto your toes and uselessly trying to climb his solid chest to reclaim your precious paperback—especially since you hoped he hadn’t gotten far enough to read the slightly "spicy" scenes in the early chapters.
"Who would’ve guessed?" he continued, ignoring your desperate attempts. "Y/n, the girl with the perfect braids and the 'good girl' soul that everyone adores, reads what’s basically porn disguised as literature! Does John know? Or does he still think you’re completely innocent?"
You froze, hands pressed to your face to hide your mortification, not just because Niki had discovered your romance novels, but because they weren’t normal romances. No, these had full-on steamy chapters. You were too tired, too confused, too embarrassed by everything that had happened that night, so you snapped:
"Keep the damn book, Niki. Do whatever you want with it. I’m going to change." You threw your hands up in defeat, and Niki’s eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up in shock.
Is she seriously letting me win? Just like that?
But he didn’t let you be. As you stepped into the bathroom to remove your makeup, you heard his footsteps follow you. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his muscular arms over his chest, watching you through the mirror as you nervously wiped away your mascara.
"It must’ve gone really badly if you don’t even have the energy to fight with me, Y/N. Come on, Shorty, tell me. What did that loser do?"
You stayed silent, but he kept teasing you, stepping closer and lowering his head to enter your line of sight. "Come on, Y/N, what did he do to make you come back so early? It hasn’t even been two hours since you left… Honestly, if I had a date with a girl I liked, I’d stay with her all night." He watched you, and you sighed, exhausted by his questions and the whole situation.
"He tried to kiss me, Niki!" you blurted out, spinning around so fast you nearly threw the cotton pad in your hand at him.
For the first time in a long while, the room fell into a deafening silence. Niki’s jaw clenched so hard you saw the muscles in his neck tighten like ropes. His mocking gaze darkened, and he lowered his face slightly, avoiding your eyes for a moment.
"Did you… I mean… did you kiss him back?" he asked quietly. You stayed silent for a few seconds, watching him, and saw a shadow of sadness, something you’d never seen on his face before—cross his features. Niki took your silence as confirmation.
"No, Niki. I didn’t kiss him. In fact, one of the most embarrassing things of my life happened. While he leaned in, thinking he had me, I moved away, and he just sat there with his mouth open like a goldfish, staring at space for what felt like forever until he realized I wasn’t there anymore." You said it all in one breath, and for a full minute, neither of you spoke. Niki brought a hand to his lips, trying to stifle a sound that was half sigh of relief, half hysterical laugh, and tried to speak—but you shot him a glare.
"Now get out of here because I need to change, and I just want to go to sleep. Please don’t ask any more questions, Niki." You pushed him out with all your strength, slamming the door shut and leaning against it.
"Y/n?" he called softly, his tone suddenly serious.
"Go to bed, Niki. Please."
For the first time in weeks, Niki listened. He got into bed and waited for you. When the bathroom door finally reopened, he watched you walk slowly and turn off the small light, letting only the moonlight filtering through the curtains illuminate the room. You slipped under the covers and, for the first time in hours, felt safe maybe even at peace with yourself because Niki was just a few feet away.
"Sweet dreams, Wren," he murmured into the darkness, his voice completely sincere for once.
"Goodnight, Niki," you replied, your mind already sinking into the pillow. Niki waited until he heard your breathing slow and steady, and only then did he close his eyes. And for the first time since he’d arrived in Montana, he fell asleep too maybe because, deep down, he knew you hadn’t kissed that guy back because there was someone else in your heart, and that someone was him.
The wind howled outside the window, and the rain pounded relentlessly against the bungalow’s glass, the distant rumble of thunder stirring a mix of anxiety and drowsy comfort in you. You burrowed deeper under the covers, savoring that moment of peace before reality hit but it didn’t last long—the walkie-talkie every counselor kept on their nightstand screeched to life, and you groaned, stretching out a sleep-heavy arm to grab it, still half-asleep.
As you blinked your eyes open to keep from dropping the device, you saw that Niki was still fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the apocalyptic weather outside. One arm dangled off the bed, and his face was twisted into an adorably childish pout—nothing like the arrogant, athletic guy he pretended to be during activities. The camp director’s voice came through clear and lively, snapping you back to reality, and you tore your gaze away from the guy snoring softly with his mouth open.
"Good morning, everyone," the director’s voice boomed from the walkie-talkie, followed by a chorus of groggy "good mornings" from the other counselors. You mumbled yours, too.
"I think you’ve all heard and seen what’s happening outside your cabins, trees down, the path to the main lodge is completely flooded. Strong wind gusts are expected today and tomorrow, rain for the next three days straight, and a violent thunderstorm with lightning is forecast for late afternoon." As the director spoke, you heard Niki let out a sleepy groan as he began stretching like a cat, his too-long, too-bulky body barely fitting on his bed.
"The kids are safe in the main building with us," the director continued. "Those of you in the bungalows will have to stay inside for at least two days. You’ve all got kitchens and enough food to survive. Stay safe, and please… don’tkill each other if you don’t get along. I know some pairs have… history, but behave, you’re not kids anymore! The radios stay on for emergencies. Have a good day."
Niki opened one eye, then the other, and looked at you, his voice still thick with sleep. "What’d he say?" he mumbled, sinking back into his pillow.
"He said we’re officially prisoners," you replied, staring at the low, gray clouds beyond the window. "Every time it rains, you and I end up stuck sharing the same space. It’s a curse." You pouted slightly, and Niki chuckled, watching you.
"Come on, wren, don’t tell me you’re complaining. Think about it—you could’ve been stuck with John. Having him around 24/7, knowing you’d friend-zone him after two..."
Before he could finish, you grabbed your pillow and hurled it at his face with all your strength. He burst into loud laughter, effortlessly catching it with his annoyingly quick reflexes, the pillow never even grazing his face.
"Please, Niki! Let’s not talk about John or yesterday’s disaster date," you groaned, sinking back into bed and pulling the covers up to your nose. You just wanted to disappear and forget the embarrassment of last night.
Niki stayed quiet for a moment, watching you hiding under the covers, and something in him swelled at how cute you looked. Without thinking, he said:
"What do you say we watch a movie or a show these next few days? We can push the beds together to make one big bed and watch it side by side?" He watched you, clutching the blankets tightly, waiting for an answer.
Your eyes widened from under the covers, a ping of anxiety shooting through you.
What did he mean by this? Did he want to be close to me? Did he want to sleep with me? Or was this just another way to tease me like usual? You wondered, pushing the warm blankets off your body. You saw him watching you and nodded.
"No problem for me. Let’s move them...at least your giant body that’s more like a pole will be more comfortable, and you’ll stop kicking at nothing."
He rolled his eyes at your joke but couldn’t hide a small smile. He got up while you were still sitting on your bed, and with ease, he started shifting the nightstand between you. In just a few minutes, his bed was aligned perfectly with yours, the two now connected with a mountain of shared blankets in the middle.
"First, though, I need to eat," you said, your stomach growling. "Otherwise, the next thunder you hear might be my stomach." You patted your belly, and Niki laughed, taking in the sight of you—hair tousled, way too cute for his own good.
The kitchen was tiny, and every time one of you moved, you bumped elbows or backs into the other. It looked like one of those cute couples from ads, feeding each other—except you two weren’t a couple.
Niki handled the moka pot, while you started slicing strawberries and bananas with surgical precision. He popped bread into the toaster until it was perfectly crisp, then began spreading on a generous layer of Nutella, so much that the edges were already oozing over as you watched him get his fingers messy, you laughed.
"That’s bread with Nutella, Niki, not Nutella with a little bread," you teased, sitting on the counter and swinging your legs.
"Life’s too short to skimp on chocolate, wren!" he shot back, stepping closer to add your strawberries on top of the dark spread.
You and Niki continued eating in an unusual silence for the two of you, broken only by the rumble of thunder and the sound of rain pounding on the tent. Every now and then, your eyes met, only to quickly slide away toward the window, where the clouds were so low it felt like you were in a place that wasn’t quite real a world where it was just the two of you.
As you took the last bite of your second slice of bread and Nutella, you felt his eyes on you. It wasn’t the look of someone who wanted to argue or tease you—there was something almost thoughtful in the way he watched you.
"Wait, you’re messy. Again," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and provocation, pointing to his own lip as a reference for where you should clean. "You really don’t know how to eat like a normal person, do you, Shorty?"
You rolled your eyes, trying to wipe your mouth. "If I’m messy, it means I enjoyed it. Or maybe someone here went way overboard with the Nutella, and that’s why I’m covered in it!" you shot back, trying to clean your lips with your index finger, but all you managed to do was smear the sticky mess even more. Niki let out a sound that was half sigh, half laugh. Without a word, he took two steps forward, then leaned in between your legs, forcing you to tilt your chin up to maintain eye contact. His hair was still a little tousled from the pillow, falling over his forehead in a soft fringe that gave him an almost "good boy" vibe.
Your heart pounded against your chest at his closeness. Niki hadn’t been this close to you since… well, that kiss in the barn.
He raised his hand slowly, as if giving you time to pull away but you stayed still, and you felt the pad of his thumb press against the corner of your mouth. A violent shiver ran down your spine as he traced the entire outline of your lower lip with maddening slowness. Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t look away. A moment later, he pressed his thumb gently against the Nutella smear on your lip, collecting the last trace of chocolate.
"There. All clean, Shorty," he murmured in a husky voice. Then, with a boldness only Niki could pull off, he brought his chocolate-stained finger to his lips and slowly licked it, never breaking eye contact. The intimacy of the gesture so forbidden, so raw—left you stunned, your lips parting slightly in shock.
You and Niki were centimeters apart, and if he had leaned in even a millimeter, your lips would have met again. You swallowed hard, and for a second… you wanted it. You wanted him to do it again but then, like a sudden flash, you remembered all the campus rumors—all the girls he’d looked at with those same eyes, all the girls he’d kissed so you took control of the situation.
"Well… thanks for cleaning me up," you said, your voice trembling slightly. You placed your hands on his chest and gently pushed him away, sliding off the counter in one swift motion.
"I… I’m going to the bathroom for a second, and then yes, we can watch a show. You can even pick it. Happy?" you said, rushing toward the bathroom and shutting the door behind you, pressing your back against it.
Montana had decided to play cruel tricks or maybe it was just trying to force you and Niki together as much as possible. What was supposed to be a brief storm had turned into an endless weather alert: the two days of forced isolation had stretched into four, turning your bungalow into a temporary refuge where you had to coexist with Niki for four straight days without stepping outside.
Incredibly, for forty-eight hours straight, you hadn’t killed each other. In fact, you’d even established a routine, though, of course, the jabs and teasing never stopped. They were what kept the electricity in the bungalow alive. Niki had teased you all through the first night after you, terrified by the thunder and jump scares from the horror movie he had insisted on watching (you cursed yourself for letting him pick), had spent the night wide-eyed until 3 AM until Niki, in the dark, had reached out and let you grip his strong fingers until you finally fell asleep. The next morning, his hand was still entwined with yours, and both of you had shifted closer in the bed.
You, of course, hadn’t let up on how useless he was in the kitchen, the man would’ve survived on instant ramen for all four days if you hadn’t been there. He had the uncanny ability to make even the water in the kettle disappear if you weren’t careful. But thanks to you, you ate normally. By the third day, you were exhausted from being so close to him, so you decided to hide in the bathroom for a regenerating shower, and honestly, you got lost in your thoughts, taking advantage of a lull in the lightning to truly relax—maybe even staying under the water a little too long.
When you finally stepped out, wrapped in steam, your eyes widened in horror when you saw that where you swore you’dleft your change of clothes for the night, there were only your panties. No shirt, no pants...nothing.
You swallowed hard, realizing you had to get out somehow, and you definitely weren’t calling Niki, he’d never let you live it down. So, carefully, you opened the door to Niki’s closet, which was right there within reach. It was filled with his "organized chaos" a system only he understood. Without overthinking it, you grabbed a deep burgundy T-shirt of his that smelled like him and tried on his pants but they were comically huge. The shirt, however, reached mid-thigh, and you thought:
Whatever. It’s only five steps to my closet. He won’t even notice I’m wearing his shirt.
You dried your hair, applied your sakura-scented cream, smelling of spring and cherry blossoms and opened the door. A wave of that fragrance immediately filled the bungalow, but your heart stopped when you saw Niki. He wasn’t at his PC, wasn’t playing his Switch, he was lying on the bed, his back against the wall, and in his hands was your Elle Kennedy book… that book… the one with the colorful Post-its marking the spiciest scenes.
"Niki, put that book down!" you squealed, your voice cracking with embarrassment. He burst out laughingm but when he looked up, his eyes weren’t on the pages anymore. They were locked on you on his burgundy shirt clinging to your body, on your bare legs, still warm from the shower, radiating heat and scent. You tried to lunge for the book, but with his lightning reflexes, he lifted his arms above his head. So you stood on your toes, pressing your body against his in an attempt to reach it but you heard Niki swallow loudly. You were so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, and you realized the shirt was riding up dangerously as you stretched.
"Niki, stop reading that thing! Give it back!"
"And why should I? It’s a good book," he said, his voice rough. "Every time I read further, I find scenes that are… decidedly spicy… scenes that you, the good girl you pretend to be, act like you don’t understand, right, Wren?"
You kept struggling until, with a sharp motion, he tossed the book onto the floor. You glared at him with pure hatred.
"Oh my God, I can’t stand you, Niki! You always have to snoop, you always have to touch my things! I don’t touch yours! I never touch the stupid drawings that you guard like a relic! And I don’t know how we’ve gone two days without fighting, you’re insufferable!" you shouted, turning your back on him to rush and pick up the book from the floor. But he moved faster, blocking you before you could bend down and this time, he wasn’t laughing.
"You’re insufferable too, Y/N!" he shouted back. "I can’t stand the way you look at me. I can’t stand when you pretend not to realize how damn hard it is for me to be locked in here with you 24/h, I can’t stand my own head, always bringing me back to you, making me imagine what you’d be like if you were really mine and I can’t stand that you play innocent and then read these stories where the characters do everything because it’s driving me crazy!"
He took a step forward, looming over you, and you stayed frozen, staring at him.
"I can’t stand seeing you in my clothes because I want to see you in them all the time, to mark you as mine but at the same time, I want to rip them off you and I hate....I hate with every part of me seeing you with other guys, especially that loser John. I can’t stand you because from the first moment I saw you in this damn summer camp, the only thing I wanted was for you to be mine and the worst punishment they could’ve given me was making me live with you, Y/n."
He said it all in one breath, and the silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of the rain. Niki shot you one last burning glance, then turned toward the kitchen, heading straight for the exit door. He wanted to leave, to run out into the storm rather than face what he’d just confessed and you hated his completely bipolar personality.
But you couldn’t let him go, not after that. You were tired of this situation, and before his hand could grab the doorknob, you reached him and grabbed his wrist tightly.
"Don’t you dare walk away from me, Niki," you whispered, your voice low. "Don’t you dare leave me here after saying all that."
Without hesitation, you rose onto your toes, your fingers gripping the fabric of his burgundy shirt at his chest, and timidly pulled him toward you, pressing your lips against his. For a moment, Niki stayed frozen, surprised by your boldness so far outside your comfort zone but then, as if an electric shock had jolted him awake, he took control, not wasting a second to claim what he’d wanted for so long.
His hand slid possessively over your side, his long, warm fingers pressing into your skin through the thin fabric, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. With his other hand, he cupped your cheek, his thumb gently tracing your soft skin in a way that stole your breath. The kiss shifted instantly, no longer the awkward, hesitant one from the barn. Now, it was passionate, desperate, as if both of you had been craving this for far too long. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers burying into his still-damp hair, while he leaned down slightly, erasing every last centimeter of distance between you.
His tongue insistently traced the outline of your lips, teasing, asking for access and you granted it with a deep sigh that sent shivers through Niki. When his tongue finally slid against yours, the kiss deepened, and the only sounds in the bungalow were the patter of rain, the howl of the wind, and your ragged breaths.
Niki let out a low, rough chuckle against your lips at the sound of your sigh, and he couldn’t wait to hear you moan in pleasure, to see you vulnerable and responsive under his touch.
"God, you drive me crazy, wren…" he murmured between kisses, before playfully nipping at your lower lip.
"Niki…" you moaned softly, almost worried someone might hear. His name slipped from your lips in a way that was so sweet, yet so sexy, it made him shiver for a moment. Usually, when you said his name, it was to tease or scold him, but now… now, you were saying it because yes, he was teasing you but in a way he wanted to do every day, to kiss you, to drive you wild with his touch.
Niki pulled back slightly, your faces just centimeters apart, and sighed near your lips:
"Tell me it’s the same for you, Y/n. Tell me," he demanded, slowly pushing you backward toward the sleeping area. A few moments later, your knees hit the edge of the "super-bed", and you tumbled onto the mattress, pulling him down with you. Niki positioned himself above you, supporting himself on his forearms so as not to crush you, while you kept your arms locked around his neck.
You tried to kiss him again, but he pulled back with a challenging smirk.
"No, no. I’ve laid my cards on the table, wren… now it’s your turn. Otherwise, we’ll stay like this all night… or all day tomorrow until you talk." He grinned, and the silence grew heavy again until Niki decided to torture you further, lowering himself slowly and pressing his lips against the warm, sensitive skin of your neck.
"N-Niki… please…" You whispered, tilting your head to give him more space.
"You speak just fine when you want to, Y/n, too well, in fact," he murmured against your skin, alternating wet kisses with playful nips of his teeth. "So tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, or we’re not going anywhere."
You clung to his biceps, feeling the strength of his muscles under your fingers, and tugged lightly at his hair to get his attention.
"Fine! Fine, you win!" you blurted out in one breath. "I can’t stand you either, Niki. Everyone, every single person told me to stay away from you, that you were trouble, and maybe you still are. But fate decided to be ironic and stuck us in this bungalow for the whole summer… At first, I really couldn’t stand you: you were grumpy, arrogant, you teased me every second, and you were way too bipolar for my taste!" You said it all in one rush, and he chuckled against your skin, his lips placing light kisses as they traveled up toward your jaw while his hand slid under the hem of your shirt, stopping at the bare curve of your waist. You bit your lip to hide how much you liked his touch—too much for your own good.
"Keep going, Y/n. Don’t stop now," he murmured against your ear, and you lifted your eyes, feeling vulnerable but determined to say what you felt.
"You win, Niki. Ever since you kissed me in that barn, everything changed… My feelings went out of control for you. And just like you hate John… I… I hated hearing the other counselors talk about you, hated hearing how good you were at kissing, or how they wanted to get your attention or end up in your bed. And yes, I’ll admit it, it drove me crazy with jealousy. So yes… what do you feel? That’s exactly what I feel."
You lowered your gaze, unable to hold his, afraid for a second that he might laugh at you or go back to being his usual cynical self. But instead, you felt his fingers gently lift your chin, and when you met his eyes again, you saw something different in his gaze. He leaned toward you, stopping a breath away from your lips.
"We’ve been two stubborn fools for not realizing this sooner, Y/n," he murmured, his breath mingling with yours. "And I don’t intend to waste any more time. We’ve figured out we like each other, and that’s all that matters in this damn bungalow but don’t think I’ll stop giving you a hard time," he added, pinching your side lightly to make you flinch. "We’ll never stop cursing each other out, right?"
You laughed and pulled him closer, nodding fiercely. "Never, Niki. I’ll never stop teasing you or busting your balls."You caressed his cheek, and he smiled against your lips a real, bright smile you’d never seen on him before and kissed you again, but this time more gently, as if he wanted to seal every word you’d just said into his memory.
That evening, you were tangled in the blankets of your "super-bed," kissing until your lips were tender, alternating between kisses and long moments of silent gazes while a K-drama played on the screen. Niki, who had initially pretended to watch it just to humor you, ended up being the most invested in the plot, commenting on every twist and teasing how obvious it was which of the two protagonists would fall in love first. He mocked how cliché and over-the-top it all was just to make any girl dream but even he couldn’t hide his interest.
But after a couple of episodes, you yawned for the tenth time in half an hour, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.
"What a lightweight you are, Wren," Niki muttered, rolling his eyes with an amused smirk. "It’s barely 10 PM, and you’re already crashing. Are you really just a little girl who needs her beauty sleep, or do you turn into a grump without it?" He watched as you snuggled deeper into the warm blankets and muggled into them.
"A lightweight? Please. It’s a talent not everyone has, to fall asleep in a minute and sleep more than eight hours,"you replied, your voice already thick with sleep as you settled more comfortably against the pillow. "I love sleeping, and I love going to bed early. It’s a natural gift." You closed your eyes slightly but could still feel his gaze on you, almost like a physical sensation.
"Stop staring at me, Niki," you mumbled, keeping your eyes shut.
"And how do you know I’m staring at you if your eyes are closed? Do you have psychic powers, Wren?" he shot back, amused.
At that, you suddenly opened your eyes wide and caught him red-handed. Niki, with his lightning reflexes, quickly shifted his gaze to the wooden wall as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world, but a guilty little smirk gave him away.
"Busted!" you exclaimed in a whisper, stretching a hand under the blankets. Your fingers searched for his, and almost playfully, you brushed the back of his hand. He stayed still for a second, didn’t fully intertwine his fingers with yours, but he didn’t pull away either. You felt his warmth blend with yours, and then he squeezed your hand.
"Mmm… I was thinking about that night you held my hand because you 'knew I was scared of horror movies'…"you started, teasing him with a sly expression. "Admit it, it was just a pathetic excuse to get a little physical contact with me. The camp’s bad boy needed to hold my hand?" You laughed, feeling his grip tighten slightly. He huffed, trying to pull away, but you were faster. You grabbed his hand firmly and pressed it against your chest, holding it tight over your irregularly beating heart.
"Shut that mouth of yours, wren, and go to sleep, or I’ll throw you out of bed," he grumbled, but he made no move to take his hand back. Instead, you felt his thumb gently trace the warm skin of the back of your hand, and you chuckled softly, savoring that moment of pure sweetness.
"Goodnight, Ki," you said but before drifting off completely, you did something you would’ve never dared just a few days ago—maybe it was the coziness of the bungalow that gave you courage. With a quick movement, you propped yourself up slightly on your elbows and, in a move that would’ve shocked your past self, you leaned toward him and planted a quick kiss just under his chin, right where a new mole was. Then, as if nothing had happened, you burrowed back under the covers, pulling them up over your nose to hide the triumphant smile lighting up your face.
From your privileged position, you caught a glimpse of his face through a gap in the blankets. Niki was literally stunned, his usually teasing eyes wide as they stared at you, his jaw slightly slack, and a faint, almost invisible blush tinting his cheekbones. You heard him sigh as he, too, closed his eyes, continuing to gently stroke the palm of your hand until you both sank into a deep sleep almost completely tangled together, hands still intertwined.
The fourth day of isolation began with the same terrible weather as the day before, and Montana showed no signs of letting up. The sky was still heavy with rain, and every so often, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed through the windows.
After a lazy breakfast filled with whispered laughter and lingering glances, you finished the TV series marathon you’d both enjoyed. Niki, using the excuse that he hadn’t slept well all summer, finally gave in to exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep that afternoon.
He’d dozed off with one arm possessively wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, and you’d never have guessed, seeing him up close like this how much he looked like a puppy while he slept. At the same time, you couldn’t help but notice how much he needed to touch you. You’d already realized back in the barn that Niki loved physical contact with you, but after yesterday, he hadn’t stopped resting a hand on your waist while you cooked, playing with your loose hair, tracing circles on your palm, or kissing you casually. And deep down, you loved this side of him that he only showed to you.
You stayed awake, your heart still beating a little faster from his closeness, and finally picked up The Mistake by Elle Kennedy again. For over an hour, the only sounds in the bungalow were the rustle of pages and Niki’s steady breathing against your shoulder as he napped. You were completely absorbed in Logan and Grace’s story, chuckling to yourself at Logan’s ridiculous lines and underlining the most iconic scenes the book was now covered in colorful Post-its peeking out from the edges.
"I’m going back to sleep for a bit, and of course, you’ve used that as an excuse to get further into this porn disguised as romance!"
Niki’s sleep-thickened voice made you jump, and you instinctively pressed the book to your face to hide your guilty expression. He unwound his arm from around you, stretching lazily, his hair falling over his forehead. When his eyes landed on the book, a crooked smirk tugged at his lips as he took in the avalanche of new Post-its you’d added since the last time he’d seen it.
"Come on, Wren, don’t play innocent," he said, rolling onto his side to get a better look at you. "Admit you like it and admit you don’t just like it because it’s a 'romance,' but because of those spicy scenes you’d love to try for the first time in your life." He chuckled, and you let the book slide just enough for him to see your eyes a mix of embarrassment and something else.
Your cheeks were a soft pink, a stark contrast to the burgundy of his shirt, which you were still wearing. Niki thought you looked beautiful, but most of all, he thought your little pout was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
"Niki, spicy scenes are in every book these days," you shot back, trying to sound confident. "You shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not as innocent as you think. Okay, fine, I haven’t had… direct experience… but I know what happens between a man and a woman when they like each other. So…"
Before you could finish, Niki lunged at you with feline speed, closing the distance between you. His face was a breath away from yours, but instead of kissing your lips, he diverted to your earlobe, brushing it lightly with his lips.
"And what do you know, Wren?" he whispered. "Come on, tell me what you’d want the guy you like… who happens to be me… to do." He added that last part with the arrogance that usually made you furious but now, it just made you shiver.
You rolled your eyes, muttering that he was getting too full of himself, but your knuckles were white from how tightly you were gripping the book’s cover.
"Come on, Y/n," he insisted, his voice rough. "Tell me what those two protagonists do… what you’d want you and me to… replicate?"
You swallowed hard, feeling how much Niki was teasing you, pushing you. "I… I’d like to be kissed in other places… not just on the mouth," you confessed, closing your eyes.
Niki smiled against your skin, and you felt the warm, wet pressure of his lips just below your jaw, a slow kiss that traveled up toward your ear. "Keep going," he urged, still teasing.
"I’d like… yes, for your hands to touch me in places no one ever has… and at the same time…" You paused, feeling your cheeks burn. "I’d like to kiss you in a very specific spot."
Niki froze for a second at your words, his mind racing through all the possible scenarios of where you might want to kiss him. You heard him swallow hard, one eyebrow arching in an expression somewhere between disbelief and ecstasy.
"And where would you like to kiss me?"
You lifted a trembling finger and pressed it just below his waist, on the left side right where the lip-shaped tattoo marked his skin, just above the waistband of his pants. "Here."
Niki stared at you in silence for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. You looked at him with a slightly offended pout, but he never took his eyes off you. Still watching you, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and, in one fluid motion, pulled it off, tossing it somewhere onto the bed. You were left breathless at the sight of his defined biceps, sculpted chest dusted with ink, and that perfectly chiseled V-line that looked like it had been drawn by an artist obsessed with his muse and then there was the lip tattoo, now fully exposed in front of you. Niki sat properly in front of you, legs spread apart, hands resting on his thighs as he tapped his fingers lightly, fixing you with a small smirk.
"Come here, wren," he murmured.
You shifted cautiously, feeling a mix of vulnerability and nervousness, but deep down, you trusted Niki. You positioned yourself straddling him, and the physical contact was immediate, your bare thighs against the fabric of his pants, his large hands gripping your hips to pull you even closer between you.
Niki tilted his head back, watching you, and found you adorable in your hesitation, unable to meet his gaze.
"Come on, Wren… don’t be afraid. Show me what you want to do," he murmured, his voice rough. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your fingers in his messy hair, and leaned down slowly. You caught the scent of your sakura-scented body wash on his skin and chuckled before beginning to place small, chaste kisses, almost shyly, starting from the base of his jaw and working your way down to his prominent collarbone. But when you felt Niki’s hands tighten on your hips, almost begging for more pressure, your courage grew. Driven by newfound confidence, you began to suck lightly on his fair skin, alternating kisses with playful nips. Niki let out a stifled moan as his head fell back further against the headboard, his skin already flushing redder than usual. You smirked to yourself, thinking that maybe tomorrow, the other girls would notice that this guy was secretly yours.
"Fuck, Wren…" he breathed, his voice ragged. You found a sensitive spot just below his earlobe, and when you nipped at it, you felt him shiver beneath you. You smiled against his skin because you’d discovered his secret, you’d found a spot where he was weak, and you couldn’t wait to uncover what other places would make him beg and lose control.
You leaned down further, exploring his sculpted, ink-stained chest. The yellow light in the room made every muscle, every defined line from his summer of hard work stand out, and when your kisses reached his nipples, your curiosity took over. You licked one with the tip of your tongue, and Niki jolted because damn, he hadn’t expected that from you… No one had, honestly, given how "pure" you seemed in everyone’s eyes. He gently grabbed your hair, pulling just enough to force you to lift your gaze and meet his desire-clouded eyes.
"Don’t stop… please, keep going," he begged, and that plea in his usually gruff voice made you feel incredibly powerful. So you continued to tease him, alternating your tongue with deep kisses, until your hands slid down his tight abs, feeling how hard they were, like marble, under your fingertips. You paused for a moment, biting your lower lip as you admired the masterpiece of a body that looked like it had been drawn by an obsessed artist.
"You’re really beautiful, Niki," you whispered, slightly embarrassed but also aware of what you were saying to the guy in front of you. Niki’s breath caught in his throat because he was used to the easy compliments from campus girls, the empty words whispered in hallways. But hearing it from you—while you looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world—had a devastating effect on him. For the first time, he felt something unravel inside him, and he didn’t know if it was desire, love, or what he felt for you in that moment. But he didn’t mock you. Instead, he gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, looking at you softly and it was a new feeling for both of you.
"Y-You… you shouldn’t say things like that to me, Wren," he said, playing with your hair.
"Could you… lie down a little, Ki?" you asked, using the nickname that made him smile. He slid down the bed, propping himself up on his elbows to stay partially raised, desperate not to miss a single moment of what you were about to do because he was genuinely curious to see what you’d come up with. You tucked your hair behind your ears, and such a simple gesture made him swallow hard. With slightly trembling fingers, you hooked the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down a few centimeters, revealing the elastic waistband of his boxers—and right next to it, the red lip tattoo that had haunted your forbidden dreams for weeks. Niki let out a low whistle, trying to regain his usual cockiness.
"Well, well… the good girl’s aiming straight for the forbidden zone. Are you sure you can handle what you’ll find down there, Wren?"
You shot him one last challenging look before pressing your lips right over that tattoo, and the contact of your mouth with the warm skin of his lower abdomen silenced him instantly.
Niki clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the sheets, overwhelmed by the sight of you curled between his legs, kissing that intimate mark with devotion. Small shivers ran through his entire body.
You began to trace its outline with the tip of your tongue, lingering on the warm skin that pulsed with every touch, and Niki let out a beautiful moan as his back arched slightly off the mattress. You smiled against his skin because the camp’s "bad boy" was melting under your simple touch.
You moved lower, placing small, wet kisses just below his navel, brushing against the gray cotton edge of his boxers. Every movement you made, innocent on the surface but designed to drive him wild—and every time your body pressed against his thighs as you straddled him, you felt his erection grow harder, more insistent, pulsing against you.
"Fuck, Wren… you’re killing me," he cursed, his voice rough. Every time you placed small kisses right below the edge of his boxers, he couldn’t stay still because your lips always sought out his most sensitive spots, and he was reaching his limit.
"I don’t think you’re ready for a blowjob, Y/n… and if you keep this up, I’ll lose control. How about you stop teasing me and let… let me take charge? You’ve provoked me enough, little one. Earlier, you said you wanted to be kissed elsewhere… where?" he almost stammered, his voice shaking from how close he was to coming like a teenager if you kept teasing him with your movements and kisses. His hands slid down your thighs, squeezing them lightly in a possessive gesture that stole your breath.
"Look how you’re trembling… does it turn you on to know I’m the one affecting you like this? The guy you’re supposed to hate, the one you’re supposed to stay away from?"
You nodded as you sucked on the fair skin of his lower abdomen, instinctively tightening your thighs around his hips. Niki cursed again, his hand sliding up your thigh and squeezing the flesh with just enough pressure.
He gently rolled you onto your back, stretching you out on the "super-bed," and took a second to adjust his boxers before positioning himself above you, looming over you with his muscular frame. But he kept himself propped up on his forearms, careful not to crush you, and traced the edge of your lips with his thumb, his expression suddenly serious and protective.
"First of all… are you sure you want this? Sure you want me to touch you?"
"Yes," you answered, and he smiled—but it was a different kind of smile. There was no trace of teasing, no hint of the guy who loved to rile you up. Just a softness you’d never have associated with the Niki everyone described.
"I know no one’s ever touched you before, Wren. And I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything. We’ll use three colors, okay? Like a traffic light. Green if you’re good, yellow if you’re embarrassed or want to slow down, and red if you want me to stop immediately. No pressure, got it?" He caressed your cheek as he spoke, and you were struck by how this rebel without rules was now the guy trying to make you feel safe and comfortable.
"It’s perfect," you whispered. Niki leaned down and stole a soft, chaste kiss before his hands slid under the burgundy shirt you were wearing. You felt his large, rough hands against your smooth, warm skin, and it was as if they were made to fit perfectly around your hips. He began lifting the fabric centimeter by centimeter, revealing your sun-kissed stomach, and murmured:
"You’re so soft…" He leaned down to kiss your skin, alternating gentle kisses with light sucks that made you gasp, and used the tip of his tongue to tease your ribs, making you let out small, muffled moans—part pleasure, part tickle.
"Color, Y/N?" he asked against your skin.
"Green…" you stammered, burying your fingers in his blond hair and pulling him closer.
"Can I play with your breasts?" he asked hopefully, his hand already toying with the hem of your shirt. The embarrassment was off the charts, but the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious, desirable thing in the world gave you the courage to nod.
"Green," you answered, and he chuckled. "That’s my good girl."
You pushed the shirt up over your collarbones, letting the fabric bunch under your chin. When your breasts were finally free, the dim light accentuated every curve of your beautiful body. Niki’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the contrast between your Montana-tanned skin and the pale, almost crescent-moon shape where your bikini had protected you all summer.
Niki had always thought you had a gorgeous body, but he hadn’t realized how much and he ran a hand through his hair.
"Fuck, Wren…" he cursed under his breath, his eyes devouring every inch of you. "You’re… you’re stunning."
He didn’t waste time. Like a man devoted to you, he cupped your breasts with his large hands. The contrast between the softness of your skin and the roughness of his calloused palms marked from summer work and weights made you let out a deep sigh. With one hand, he began torturing your right breast, using his thumb to press and roll your hardened nipple, while his mouth descended on the left one. The heat of his tongue enveloping the sensitive tip made you arch your back, and Niki sucked hard, sending electric shocks straight to your core for the first time. Without meaning to, you pushed your hips upward, unconsciously seeking contact with his hard, pulsing length pressing against his boxers, right against your thin lace panties.
"Ah… Niki…" you panted, digging your fingers into his blond hair and pulling him closer. He responded with a moan, loving how close you were.
"Christ, how the hell did I go all summer without putting my hands on you?" he muttered as his left hand squeezed your breast a little too eagerly, his possessive grip making you gasp.
"K-Keep going… but gentler on the left, Ki… I’m really sensitive there… my period’s coming soon." You stammered, and Niki lifted his gaze, his lips glistening, as he continued teasing your clit through your panties and squeezing your breast. A playful grin spread across his face.
"Fuck, that’s why they’re so full and hard…" he murmured, then began tracing slow circles with his tongue around your areola, blowing on it between kisses, savoring your endless shivers. After what felt like forever, he moved lower, licking the underside of your breast with long, deliberate strokes of his tongue, then climbing back up to nip at the pink bud with extreme care.
While his mouth made you feel so good, his hand slid down your smooth thigh. You felt his fingers creep up centimeter by centimeter, tickling the inside of your thigh and making your legs tremble, almost closing on instinct because no one had ever touched you there before.
"Color, Wren?" he whispered against your skin.
"Green…" you managed to gasp as he chuckled softly, his fingers not stopping, they slid under the elastic edge of your panties, finding you already wet and warm. Niki let out a sound of pure approval at how excited you already were, knowing it was all because of him, and that no one else would ever have this privilege in his life.
"Fuck, Shorty… you’re already ready for me," he murmured as his middle finger began rubbing your clit through your damp panties.
Your body arched with a jolt, overwhelmed by a pleasure so intense it was almost too much to handle. To increase the pressure, Niki pushed his hips forward, grinding his hard length against your still-covered core, and you let out a loud moan that filled the room. Embarrassed, you immediately clapped your hands over your mouth to stifle the sound, but Niki stopped, grabbing your wrists and pulling them away from your face, fixing you with an almost fierce intensity.
"No, no, little one… be a good girl and let me hear everything," he said, his voice rough. "I want to hear you moan, I want to hear you scream if that’s what you need. No one can hear us, remember? There’s only the storm outside… it’s just you and me here. So please, don’t feel embarrassed if you want to moan my name...it’s beautiful."
He returned his focus to your breasts, alternating hungry licks with gentle sucks on the lower curve. When he pulled away for a second, he noticed a small purple mark beginning to form on your fair skin. He thought about how he’d love to cover you in these marks, but he knew that soon you’d be back in your swimsuit or canoeing, so he’d save that for later.
His hands slid back to your hips, gripping them tightly, while his fingers inside your panties increased their rhythm.
"Green or yellow, Wren?" he asked.
"Green… please, green," you whispered, feeling him tease the edge of your panties. Niki pulled the thin lace asidewith a slowness that drove you wild, letting the cool air of the bungalow brush against your exposed, aroused skin. When his thumb made direct contact with your clit, the world around you seemed to dissolve—you’d never felt anything like this before, and it was so good.
"Tongue or fingers, Wren?" he whispered, and your eyes widened in surprise at his bluntness.
"I… I trust you. You choose," you said, embarrassed by his question. Niki lifted himself slightly on his arms, studying your expression as he saw how you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him at first.
"Green or yellow, Y/N?" he asked, stroking your cheek. You bit your lower lip, feeling the heat spread all the way to your ears from embarrassment.
"Green… it’s just that I’ve never done anything like this before."
He nodded, and with a gentle motion, he leaned down to place a chaste, reassuring kiss on your forehead, and that touch made you melt.
"Relax. I’ll make you feel good, Wren. Whatever you say, I’ll stop instantly, okay?"
With a fluid motion, he pulled your panties off completely, tossing them somewhere unknown. When his eyes fell on your swollen, glistening intimacy, he let out a deep breath and leaned down, blowing lightly on your clit, making you jolt from the contrast. Then, he gently spread your legs, draping them over his shoulders. For the first time in your life, you were completely exposed, vulnerable under his gaze. Without another word, his warm tongue dove into your clit, and you moaned instantly—it was a strange, wet, completely new sensation, and you finally understood why all the girls said they loved foreplay with guys.
"Fuck, you taste so good…" he cursed against your skin, continuing to tease you with small, circular licks in figure-eights, alternating pressure until you arched your back against the mattress. Feeling you were ready, Niki slid a finger between your folds, and you tensed instinctively, clenching your muscles. He stopped immediately, feeling his finger fully inside you.
"Relax, little one. It’ll be okay. Let me take care of you," he murmured.
You nodded, trying to regulate your breathing, and when his finger slowly slid in centimeter by centimeter, a sense of fullness you’d never felt before flooded you.
"Fuck, you’re so tight… you’re swallowing my finger, Wren," he said as he began to move it in a rhythm that made you tremble, sliding in and out with a patience that was driving you mad—because you wanted more, but you were too shy to ask for it. But Niki understood instantly.
"Can I slide another one in?" he asked, his eyes fixed on yours as they rolled back. You nodded frenetically, unable to speak.
"Good girl… I knew deep down you were this good, that you’d like these slightly dirty things," he teased, and when his middle finger, marked by small calluses from summer work, slid in beside the other, you screamed his name.
"Niki!" Your hands flew to his hair, pulling at it for support as he began to pump with more vigor.
"Damn, Y/n… you’re taking me so well…" he cursed, savoring the sound of your moans, which grew sharper and sharper. He began to coordinate his movements: while his fingers worked inside you with decisive thrusts, his mouth returned to your clit, sucking and licking in sync with his fingers to give you even more pleasure. That double stimulation made you lose all contact with reality, and you screamed even louder, your legs trembling on his shoulders
Niki manipulated you, both mentally and physically with expert precision, slowing down just as you were about to shatter, only to watch you beg for him. His fingers pumped deeper inside you, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision, and his voice was a dark, velvety whisper against your skin.
"Look at you, Shorty. Look how well you take me… were you born to be like this under me, huh?"
Shivers raced up your spine, and an unbearable heat spread through your body. You gasped, tears pricking at your eyes from the frustration of pleasure as he continued to tease you, his fingers pumping harder inside you while his teeth grazed your clit just enough to drive you wild.
"Ki… please… I… I need to come!" you cried, your voice breaking.
But instead of giving you what you craved, he smirked that infuriating, arrogant smirk—the one you usually hated but now loved—and rather than letting you climax, he used his teeth to tease your clit while his fingers pumped even deeper, searching for that most sensitive spot inside you.
"You want to come, little one? Then take it."
He thrust his fingers harder, now that your body had adjusted to their size, with a frenetic rhythm that gave you no escape. And then—you came, screaming his name, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Niki loved how his name sounded on your lips, how one hand was fisted in his hair while the other clawed at the sheets, nearly tearing them. Your body convulsed in endless spasms, your arousal dripping down his fingers and thighs but he didn’t stop.
While you were still riding the high of your orgasm, he leaned down and licked away every trace of your pleasure, the intensity making you whimper.
"It’s too much… Niki, stop, it’s too much!" you sobbed, but he lifted his head just enough to lick you again, murmuring:
"It’s never too much for you, Wren. Look how you’re trembling… you’re pathetic and beautiful at the same time."His hand gripped you possessively, pulling you flush against him. "Do you really think I’d let you rest now, after showing you how good your body can feel?"
And that night, with only the storm’s roar breaking the silence, Niki kept his promise: he gave you no mercy, pushing you to the edge two more times until you were nothing but a trembling, whimpering mess, obsessed with his touch, your body singing his name like a prayer.
When everyone woke up at dawn on the fifth day, the Montana sky was finally a brilliant, cloudless blue, streaked only by the chirping of birds. As the bungalow doors swung open, everyone breathed in that crisp air and the scent of wet pine and fresh grass the kind everyone loved.
The general gathering in the sports pavilion was a chaos of voices and laughter from the kids, who had been cooped up in the dorms with emergency activities. They were all excited to run and bicker with each other again. You smiled as Nina came sprinting toward you and Niki, hugging you both and complaining about how boring it had been to be stuck inside 24/7 with the other kids.
Thankfully, the damage had been minimal: a few broken branches had fallen, there were piles of pine needles and dead leaves forming slippery carpets, and a couple of clotheslines had blown away.
But the real surprise, the one everyone was whispering about and that had shocked even the counselors and camp directors was Niki. He was no longer the sullen guy who ignored everyone, shooting hateful glares at anyone who dared breathe in his direction. He was… softer? He’d always been good with the kids, but now, with the other counselors, you noticed he talked, helped, even smiled without grumbling. Sure, he wasn’t suddenly a ray of sunshine, but most of all, he seemed to have a magnet pulling him constantly into your orbit.
He teased you endlessly: if you were carrying a bucket, he’d tap the back of your knee to throw you off balance, and the kids would giggle every time they saw you two bickering from morning to night. If you were talking to another counselor, he’d insert himself into the conversation even if it had nothing to do with him. Sometimes, you’d even steal the sticks he’d just picked up, only to drop them again while he gathered more from another spot. When he’d look up, you’d just shrug, but every time your eyes met, there was a secret in his gaze—the memory of those nights in the bungalow, getting to know each other, teasing, touching.
In the afternoon, while you were setting up for the bonfire you’d all agreed to have that evening—a way to finally reunite everyone—you were arranging chairs in a circle. The heat was starting to build, so you stepped behind the tool shed to find some shade and water. But before you could take three steps, a strong hand grabbed your arm, pulling you behind the shed, into the shadows of the wood and foliage. Niki leaned over you, his hands settling on your hips.
"Hey, wren," he murmured with a smug grin. You looked around in terror, afraid a kid or worse, the camp director might appear around the corner.
"Niki! What are you doing? If someone sees us...."
"I’ve been trying to get you alone all day. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this," he said, reaching out to gently tug one of your braids, watching as your face flushed a deep pink but suddenly, you felt bold. You rolled your eyes, placing your hands on his bare chest under his open shirt.
"Mmm, so the big bad boy of summer camp misses his… girlfriend?" you teased, and the words "his girlfriend"hung between you, heavy and new. Niki flinched, he’d never thought you’d actually become his girl, and he your boy. He didn’t answer right away, but his eyes lit up with a new light, and with a fluid, decisive motion, he pushed you back against the rough wooden planks of the shed, pinning you with his body.
"Shut up, Wren," he murmured, his lips a millimeter from yours.
"Who would’ve thought," you chuckled, rising onto your toes to bury your fingers in his wind-tousled blond hair. "The guy who loved keeping to himself, who was grumpy all the time… needs attention?" You teased him, and before you could finish, he leaned in and kissed you possessively.
Your arms wrapped around his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And Niki wasn’t shy: as his tongue slid between your lips, claiming you, his right hand slid down, slipping into the back pocket of your jeans with a possessive grip, squeezing your flesh and lifting you slightly against him so you could feel just how reactive he was to your touch. His other hand pressed into your side.
"Fuck, I’ve missed you… you have no idea," he growled against your mouth. You smiled against his lips, nipping lightly at his lower lip, enjoying the small shudder it pulled from him. But just as the atmosphere was about to get too heated, the sharp sound of breaking branches and the laughter of approaching kids reached you from just a few meters away. With a jolt of panic, you pushed him away, trying to compose yourself as your heart pounded too hard. Niki took a step back, chuckling as he watched you reclaim your "good girl" aura.
"We… we should go help the others," you murmured, trying to regain a professional tone. "Otherwise, they’ll get suspicious… The director already has her eye on you for how much you’ve changed these past few days."
He nodded but didn’t take his eyes off you until you glanced back at him one last time before disappearing around the corner. Niki ran a hand through his messy blond hair, making it even wilder, and stayed there for a second in the shed’s shadow.
"Fuck…" he muttered to himself, shaking his head with an incredulous smile on his face. "That girl’s gonna kill me before the end of summer."
The atmosphere at camp had become electric a mix of childlike excitement and the bittersweet melancholy of feeling autumn knocking at the door. The end-of-summer dance wasn’t just an event; it was the culmination of all those months spent under the sun—laughing, joking, playing cards, but also fighting, teasing, discovering crushes, and forging friendships under Montana’s scorching heat.
While the kitchen crew churned out endless trays of snacks and finger sandwiches, the outdoor activities team had set up chairs, tables, and colored lights woven through the willow branches by the lake, turning the gazebo into a kind of crystal chandelier with golden threads. The kids couldn’t wait to see all those lights lit up.
The weeks spent in the decoupage group had been exhilarating, you’d watched piles of card stock transform into messages of love or simple friendship, meant for their dance partners. Your heart tightened every time a child asked for your help to glue something, to draw, or to write the name of the person they liked.
That afternoon, you were leaning against the metal slide, watching the scene unfold a few meters away: Nina had asked you to go with her to Thomas, and with her perfect braids bouncing on her shoulders, she was facing her biggest challenge yet, Thomas, a perpetually grumpy-looking kid with his arms almost always crossed and his gaze usually directed elsewhere, as if a thousand thoughts were swirling in his head. For some strange reason, he reminded you terribly of Niki at the start of the summer.
You watched as Nina handed him the invitation—the one she’d worked on for hours, drawing a Formula 1 single-seaterwith the numbers of Thomas’s favorite drivers on the side. And when Thomas lowered his guard, you saw the tiniest lift at the corner of his mouth. It was a silent victory for both you and Nina. You heard Thomas ask, "Why me?"
Nina was quiet for a moment, then said, "Well, you’re the only one who doesn’t talk much but says everything with his eyes or his face… And it was nice when I scraped my knee and you took me to the infirmary, and how every day, without anyone seeing, you changed my bandages especially the pink ones with princesses. So that’s why I want you to come find me at the dance for a little while."
Nina didn’t wait for an answer. She planted a small kiss on his cheek and ran toward you, her big eyes shining.
"He’ll definitely come find me," she declared, tucking a braid behind her ear. "Wow, Nina, you really have a lot of self-confidence. Never let anyone take that away from you when you grow up, okay? Promise?" you said, squeezing her small hand in yours.
But as you started walking toward the lake, the conversation took a turn you never expected.
"Who are you going to the dance with? I hope Niki asked you to go with him," she whispered, as if revealing a state secret, skipping along beside you. Your heart pounded at her words.
"Why… why would Niki ask me to the dance, Nina?" you asked, trying to sound indifferent, but the little girl just smiled knowingly.
"Well, because he likes you, Y/n. He’s been talking about you to me all summer. And I’ll tell you a secret...these braids?" She giggled, covering her mouth as if she’d just shared something she wasn’t supposed to. "He does them for me every morning because he learned how by watching you do yours in the mirror."
You were stunned by the image of Niki: his big, calloused hands, his famous rings carefully braiding a little girl’s hair, trying to mimic your movements. Your eyes almost welled up as you thought back to all those mornings in the bungalow, when you’d felt his burning gaze on the back of your neck through the mirror as you separated the strands. You’d thought… well, you’d thought he was judging you or just waiting his turn for the bathroom. But instead, he’d been memorizing every movement so he could replicate it on Nina’s hair.
"Nina, I… I and Niki, we’re just… I mean, he always teases me, it’s not possible that...."
But Nina wasn’t done demolishing your defenses. She added, with a touch of cheeky confidence:
"And besides, he should ask you because a couple of weeks ago, I saw you kissing near the tool shed. You’re not very discreet, you know? We kids saw you holding hands, or Niki pulling you away out of nowhere… or him coming to get you every time survival class in the woods ended. Those are things boys in love do… like my dad with my mom."
Your world tilted. The phrase "We kids saw you" echoed in your head like a gong. If seven- or eight-year-olds had figured it all out if they’d seen you pressed against that shed with Niki’s lips on yours then the entire camp knew. The other counselors, the director, maybe even the kitchen staff.
You brought a hand to your face and laughed nervously as Nina pulled you along, but before you went in, she said:
"I’m glad you’re Niki’s princess and not me… I’m too little for him but if I were his age, he’d already be mine!" She burst out laughing and ran off, leaving you alone on the path, your mind spinning.
The day of the dance had finally arrived, Niki had been asking you for days now and yet, you almost wished it never would. It was the last evening you’d spend together. Tomorrow, everyone would return to Chicago, and life would go back to normal, as if nothing had changed. Sure, you and Niki both attended the same university, but what would really change between you? You shook your head. Those questions would have answers in the coming days, not tonight. Tonight was meant to be perfect.
You gave yourself one last look in the mirror: the white and red top stood out against your sun-kissed, golden skin, the result of months under the open sky. The jeans with red stars hugged your curves as if they’d been tailored for you, and the soft, deliberately messy French braid gave you a playful yet polished look. When the sakura-scented perfumefilled the air, you felt ready.
As you stepped outside, you saw Niki leaning against the table, wearing his gray and red hoodie—the one he’d given you that night—unzipped, revealing his bare chest. When his eyes landed on you, you watched him swallow hard, and you smiled at the effect you had on him.
"Fuck, Wren… you look stunning," he murmured, his voice rough, and pulled you close, burying his nose in the crook of your neck as if he wanted to memorize your scent for the months to come.
"You don’t look so bad yourself, Niki," you replied with a sly smile, playing with the strings of his hoodie. "Though a shirt would...."
"Dream on, Wren. I’ll wear a shirt only at my graduation, my wedding, or a job interview not for a dance where there’ll be more brats stuffing their faces with snacks than people actually dancing to TikTok songs." He chuckled, pulling you even closer, and you played with his hair.
"You’ll have to cut this hair when we get back to Chicago," you said.
He rolled his eyes. "Mmm, why? I like it this length. Otherwise, when your hands go through it, you won’t be able to play with it or pull it." He grinned, and your cheeks flushed red. You gave him a light swat on the chest and muttered, "Pervert." His hand tried to slip into your back pocket, but you shook your head.
"Come on, Niki, we’re already late." He sighed, but when he placed his cowboy hat on your head, his expression changed.
It wasn’t just an accessory, it was a camp tradition, a cowboy ritual. He didn’t consider himself a cowboy by any means, but seeing you in his hat, the brim casting a slight shadow over your eyes, triggered a sense of possessivenesshe’d never felt with anyone before. In that moment, Niki realized you weren’t just his date for the night—you were his girl, symbolically claimed in front of everyone. The thought that in a few hours you’d both be on the train back to the city made him want to claim every second of the evening, as if to tell the whole world that you’d still be his in Chicago, too.
"Let me see…" he murmured, adjusting the brim with his fingers, which brushed your forehead. "Now no one will have any doubts about who your 'escort' is tonight." He smirked, and you dragged him in front of the bungalow’s mirror to capture the moment.
Niki huffed, pretending to be annoyed by your need for photos, but as soon as you positioned yourself, he stepped behind you. You felt his heat at your back, and with one hand, he gently lifted your chin, forcing you to look up, while with the other, he tilted the hat to create a small, private shadow between you, partially obscuring the phone’s frame. Then, just as the flash went off, he kissed your cheek and he knew one of those photos would end up as his phone’s wallpaper.
The warm lights danced on the dark surface of the lake, creating a magical atmosphere, and the air was thick with the familiar scent of campfires burnt wood, caramel popcorn, and cotton candy sticking to the kids’ fingers as they ran around, laughing and playing.
You and Lia had taken dozens of photos that looked like they’d come straight from a 2016 Tumblr feed: posing on a hay bale, holding a slice of pizza so big it covered half your torso, laughing with your teeth clamped around the rim of a red plastic cup, always looking back at the camera with flushed cheeks. At one point, you’d even herded a group of kids into the photo booth, helping them put on giant star-shaped glasses or fake mustaches until the line was empty and just as you stepped out of the booth, still giggling from your last "diva pose" with Lia, you saw Niki’s massive figure standing in front of you, arms crossed, that crooked half-smile that annoyed you but also sent a thrill through you.
"Have you two finished monopolizing the photo booth? There are other people who’d like to take some memories home, you know," he said, looking between you and Lia. Lia, never one to back down, pulled you closer.
"Oh yeah, Niki? And who exactly would you want to take pictures with? It’s not like you’ve become best friends with anyone here in the last three months!" she teased. He rolled his eyes, but his gaze never left your flushed face.
"Lia, there’s only one person in this entire camp I’d want a photo with, and that’s your best friend. So scram, please."
Lia grinned knowingly when she heard that, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. "Damn, this guy finally marked his territory. Thank God for that storm… you two were exhausting to watch—24/7 of teasing with zero payoff! Even the best K-dramas don’t have that much slow burn!" But before she disappeared into the crowd, she winked at you and mimed a "go for it" gesture with her fingers, reminding you of the pact you’d made: no thoughts for tomorrow just live in the present.
Niki took your hand, his warm fingers intertwining perfectly with yours, and nodded toward the photo booth entrance. The tiny plastic cubicle was clearly designed for kids, not a guy who was nearly six-foot-three. Niki went in first, muttering under his breath as his head nearly hit the ceiling. He sat on the swivel stool, leaving barely any room for you. As you hesitantly tried to perch on the edge of the seat, he grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap.
"Sit here," he ordered, patting his thighs. You hesitated, and he huffed against your skin.
"Come on, Shorty, stop pretending to be some innocent girl. You’ve sat on these legs in way less chaste ways than this, and we both know it." He chuckled, and your cheeks burned as he settled you sideways on his knees. One hand slid up your bare leg, squeezing lightly, while the other rested on your exposed side, his thumb tracing hypnotic circleson your skin.
"Pick the filter, Shorty, but do it for two strips
one’s mine, and the other’s yours," he said. You nodded, not realizing that even choosing a filter would turn into a playful fight.
"Let’s do the one with the little stars! It’s cute!" you suggested, pressing the option.
"Stars? Wren, I have a reputation to uphold. We’re not middle schoolers—go with the black minimalist one," he argued, trying to nudge your finger away from the screen.
"Your reputation died the day you learned how to braid Nina’s hair. Deal with it!" you teased, and after two minutes of bickering and playful shoves, you settled on the most basic option: a vertical filmstrip border with four shots, ten seconds apart.
First photo: The countdown started, and you exchanged an amused glance, bursting into spontaneous, slightly shy laughter as you looked at each other, Niki holding you tight, you trying not to fall off the stool.
Second photo:
You turned and kissed his cheek, and Niki rolled his eyes with a fake indifferent expression as if your kiss on his face(not even his lips!) didn’t affect him. But the way his hand tightened on your side told a different story.
Third photo:
The mood had shifted. Niki gently moved your French braid aside, exposing your neck, and you locked eyes intensely. There was nothing shy about your faces now—close, hungry, his gaze full of possession, as if he wanted to make it clear that he was all you’d ever need.
Fourth photo:
Just as the flash went off for the last time, Niki closed the distance, capturing your lips in a real, deep, possessive kiss just like him. He loved making it clear to everyone that you were his, and the photo captured it perfectly: you with your eyes closed, his hands pulling you even closer, his cowboy hat tilted slightly backward.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, now knowing he was your safe harbor, your fingers sinking into his messy blond hair at the nape of his neck. The photo booth felt even smaller with how close you were, and Niki didn’t waste a second. His hands settled firmly on your hips, his thumbs tracing small designs on the bare skin exposed by the cut of your top.
When your lips parted in a soft moan, he took it as an invitation, and his tongue slid into your mouth, claiming you. You let out a vibrant sound, and if anyone had been outside, they would’ve heard it but honestly, you didn’t care anymore. In that moment, there was only you two, lost in a mix of submission and longing that made Niki’s muscles tense as he felt you so close. You tried to shift, seeking even more intimate contact between your bodies, but he held you firmly in place, his grip on your hips pinning you to his lap, as if to say he was the one setting the pace—even in there.
When the photo strip finally slid out, the mechanical sound of the machine seemed to bring you back to reality. Niki snatched it quickly, almost fearful that someone else might see it. You both fell silent, staring at that last shot, the kiss captured by the flash was real, unfiltered. It looked so authentic that maybe, in that moment, Niki realized he’d found his person and he’d never expected it to be you.
"Fuck," he whispered against your lips, and you caressed the slightly rough skin of his jaw, where the stubble was just starting to grow. You bit your lip, still tasting him, and felt a flicker of anxiety creeping in because in a few hours, everything might change.
"Do… do you want to stay at the party, or go back to the bungalow?" you murmured, lowering your gaze and starting to nervously twist the end of your braid between your fingers. Niki watched you in silence. He knew, he could read every tic, every hesitation in you. He knew you were feeling uncertain, and he lifted your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look into his eyes darker than ever under the neon lights of the booth.
"Why do you want to go back to the bungalow? Aren’t you having fun out here, wren? You’ve been excited about this party for weeks, and now you want to leave already?"
"Everything’s perfect out here," you started, trying to find the right words, not wanting to seem embarrassed by what you were about to say. "But I… I’d like to spend the last night alone. I mean… completely alone. In our bungalow and we could… I don’t know…" You gestured between the two of you, and Niki lifted your chin with his finger, forcing you to meet his gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. He silenced you, pressing a finger to your lips.
"You’re overthinking, Wren. Tell me what you really want… no beating around the bush." He watched you with eyes that were almost glossy with a new determination, mixed with shyness? But Niki wanted to hear you say it.
"I want you to be mine tonight… and me to be yours," you said, starting to nervously fidget with one of the silver rings on his finger. After dropping that bomb, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid he might push you awayor mock you but Niki visibly swallowed, not expecting such a blunt answer from you, it wasn’t like you at all. For a moment, the Niki from the start of summer disappeared, replaced by a guy who looked almost dazed by the luck of having met you.
"Are… are you sure, Y/n?" he asked, his voice almost timid, which made you slightly doubt the guy in front of you. "You know that if we cross that threshold tonight… there’s no going back."
You nodded firmly, intertwining your hand with his, taking the initiative to stand up. Niki sighed deeply, running his other hand through his hair in a gesture of pure agitation because in that moment, he didn’t know if he should feel like the luckiest guy on the planet or the most terrified at the idea of not being worthy of your first time, of not being gentle enough or unforgettable enough for you. He was afraid of ruining everything you’d built over those summer months.
"Are you 100% sure, Wren?" His voice was rough as he hovered over you, his forearm muscles tense from the effort of not pressing too hard against your body.
You rolled your eyes with fake exasperation at his question. "Green, lime green, eater green…" you listed, naming every shade you could think of, and Niki shook his head with a crooked smile.
"You’re such a little brat, you know that?" he murmured, pulling you in for a quick kiss before his hands slid decisively toward your hips. When the button of your jeans popped open and the zipper slid down, the atmosphere in the room shifted drastically.
Niki pulled off your jeans, never taking his eyes off you. And when his gaze fell on the red lace of your semi-thong, his breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, he was completely thrown off by your lingerie. He ran a hand through his blond hair, messing it up even more, thinking about how innocent you must’ve seemed to everyone at camp… but not to him. Not after discovering what you read, what you wore to drive him wild. When he heard your voice, he snapped back to reality.
"Do you like it?" you whispered, enjoying his shock with a fake innocent look. Niki let out a sound that was half groan, half choked laugh.
"I didn’t think the 'good girl' of summer camp was hiding these kinds of secrets under her clothes. I knew about all those romance books you try to hide from me… but this, Y/N!"
His hand slid down your inner thigh, and the cold silver of his ring against your burning skin made you jolt violently. You wanted to tease him, drive him crazy.
"There’s a lot you still don’t know about me, Niki…" you stammered, trying to keep a shred of composure. He closed his eyes for a second he’d figured out the game you were playing.
"And what would those be?" he challenged.
"Let’s find out together, shall we?" you replied.
Niki shifted, kneeling between your legs with a slowness that was pure torture. He grabbed your ankle and brought it almost to his face, then began kissing your skin, starting from your ankle, moving up your calf to the curve of your knee. Every kiss was almost torture for you because he was doing it on purpose, going so slow. Each touch was like a brand, alternating kisses with light sucks, and when he reached your thigh, his kisses became deeper, more insistent, leaving a tingling sensation that spread through your entire body.
When he buried his face in the inside of your thigh, the heat of his hot breath made you arch your back.
"Niki… stop teasing me," you pleaded.
But he didn’t listen. His kisses alternated with playful nips on the tenderest part of your thigh, followed by slow licksthat made you lose all sense of direction.
"Higher…" you whispered without thinking, and Niki froze, lifting his gaze to you with a serious look.
"Since when do you get to give me orders, Wren?" he asked, kissing you just one centimeter higher, driving you mad because that was his intent. From the first moment he’d seen you, he’d wanted to get inside your head, and he was succeeding.
"Please… Niki, don’t make me wait like this, you’re driving me crazy…" you stammered, your hands clawing at the sheets to keep from grabbing him directly. He chuckled, satisfied with his effect on you, and lifted your leg even higher. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed your clit hard through the thin veil of black lace, laughing softly.
"Damn it…" you cursed through your teeth, arching your back and digging your fingers into his hair, not knowing if you wanted to pull him deeper or push him away because you didn’t even know yourself. It was definitely calculated torture, what he was doing to you, and you responded by squirming beneath him.
"You’re a bastard, take this off and touch me for real!"
But Niki didn’t care about your urgency. He wanted to hear you beg, wanted to see how far your resistance would go before he made you completely his. So he let go of your leg but didn’t return to loom over you with his full weight. Instead, he crawled up your body with the same slowness as a predator, leaving a trail of fire with his kisses. He started at the elastic edge of your lace, then your navel, moving up your stomach where your muscles twitched involuntarily at every touch of his tongue. When he reached your breasts, he paused to admire them in the dim light, as if he hadn’t already memorized every inch of you, while your uneven, pleading breaths lift
He leaned down with surgical precision, capturing your hardened nipple between his lips. The contrast was delicious and intoxicating you’d never felt anything like it before. The wet heat of his mouth against your skin, and his cold, silver-ringed hand sliding up to squeeze and tease your other breast, made you even more pliable under his touch. You moaned his name a sound Niki loved hearing from your lips as your fingers tightened in his blond hair, pulling him deeper.
He sensed your impatience and chuckled right against your sensitive skin, making your chest vibrate. Then he dragged his teeth over the tip of your nipple before blowing a cool breath over it, making you jolt violently. But you had no intention of just lying there. You wanted him to feel the same burning need you were feeling. So you hooked your legs around his hips, pulling him into your personal space, and began moving your hips instinctively, grinding your lace-covered intimacy against the hard, unmistakable bulge of his jeans.
Niki froze for a second, caught off guard. But when he realized your movements weren’t accidental, that you were deliberately seeking friction against his length, trying to drive him wild, he stiffened.
"Fuck, Wren… stop moving like that if you don’t want me to lose control before I even take my clothes off," he growled, his voice low. But you didn’t stop. If anything, you pushed harder, chasing that heat that seemed like the only thing capable of extinguishing the fire inside you. And when he finally matched your rhythm, pushing back against you in a synchronized motion, a simultaneous moan escaped both your lips.
"Please…" you whispered, almost without realizing it. Niki lifted himself a few centimeters, surprised to hear you begging him for something.
"What are you begging for, Wren? A month ago, you couldn’t even stand to breathe the same air as me in this room. And now? What are you begging for?" he asked, challenging you with his gaze. But you looked back at him, unafraid to show just how much you wanted him.
"You couldn’t stand me as a roommate either, and yet here you are, worshipping my body like it’s your only religion. So stop talking, Niki, because we’ve teased each other all summer, and I think it’s time to let all this electricity explode—the kind everyone saw except us."
After your answer, Niki didn’t waste another second. With a fluid motion, he grabbed the edges of your thong, his patience was completely gone. He pulled your panties off in one sharp motion, letting them slide down your legs and leaving you completely bare beneath him. When his gaze fell on your glistening, swollen intimacy, a victorious grinspread across his face. He felt like a king—the first to see you like this, the first to possess your vulnerability. And he knew the mark he’d leave on you tonight would be indelible, because only he would have you like this.
"Where’s the girl who was talking too much a minute ago?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched you look away in embarrassment.
"She’s still here, Niki… don’t count your chickens just yet," you shot back, trying to reclaim a shred of dignity as you spread your legs for him. That gesture drove him wild with desire. He grabbed your thighs and hoisted them onto his shoulders, leaving you completely exposed and at his mercy. Then he leaned in, and his hot tongue flicked against your clit in one swift motion. You moaned at the sensation of his tongue against your core.
"God, Wren… are you still this sensitive?" he chuckled against your skin, feeling how you trembled. "It’s not the first time tonight—you should be used to my mouth by now."
"Just… just shut up!" you cursed, but his only response was to intertwine his hand with yours, pressing it firmly against the mattress. That gesture...so intimate and protective in the middle of all this lust made your heart beat harder than anything else, because Niki could act like a jerk, but when it came to you, he became almost someone else.
His other hand held your hip in place while his tongue began to work in perfect figure-eights, pressing insistently on the tip of your clit.
"I need to prepare you, Wren," he murmured between kisses against your folds. "If you want me to slide my cock inside you without hurting you, you need to be ready to take me."
You nodded frantically, unable to form coherent sentences. And when you felt his index finger tease your entrance, coating itself in your arousal before pushing in slowly, you felt so good, yet so protected by him because in that moment, you were trusting each other completely.
"Look how well you take this… and it’s just one finger. Yet here you are, already begging for more with those moans of yours, huh? You’re just a spoiled little girl who’s discovered how good it feels to be ruined by me." He smirked, and you moaned loudly as he began pumping his finger inside you, filling you in a way that made you feel complete yet starving for more and when he decided you could handle it, he slid his middle finger in as well.
The impact was shocking, you felt the cold edge of his silver ring against the hot, sensitive flesh of your lips, and you screamed, arching your back and clenching your legs around his face, swallowing his fingers up to the knuckle. The contrast between the icy metal and the fire inside you made you lose your mind.
"Niki… oh God, the ring… it’s… it’s too much," you stammered but Niki looked up at you from below, his lips glistening with your arousal, and pushed harder, coordinating the movement of his fingers with his tongue, which continued to torment your clit. When you started to cry from the intensity of pleasure, he froze for a second, doubting if he’d hurt you but then he heard your words.
"I’m… I’m about to come… Niki, please, don’t stop!"
He relaxed, and a predatory smile lit up his face. "Fuck, it’s so hot watching you cry while you beg me to make you come." He curved his fingers inside you, and you, overwhelmed by the double stimulation, pulled his hair with desperate force, clawing at the sheets with your other hand as the climax swept over you. The final contrast, his tongue, his fingers, and that cold metal made you explode against his mouth in a violent orgasm that left you trembling and spent, coming against both his mouth and his fingers.
"Fuck… that’s my good girl," Niki murmured.
When Niki pulled away from you, you swallowed hard. He leaned in again to give you a soft, lingering kiss, charged with the weight of what you were about to do, and asked:
"Are you 100% sure about this?" His voice was low, his fingers stroking your hair. You stayed silent for a moment, and those few seconds of hesitation felt like an eternity to Niki. But then you found the words, and he relaxed.
"Right now, there are no red lights, Niki. No orange warnings either," you whispered, echoing what he had taught you the first time he’d seen you naked and touched you.
"For me, everything is completely green right now… I… I want… I want to be yours." Your voice trembled, tears pricking at your eyes. Niki reached out, caressing your cheek with his thumb. His eyes were glistening too, and a crooked, moved smile lit up his face.
"I want to be yours too, Wren. Today, tomorrow, for the weeks to come, for the next months… and who knows how much longer."
With fingers still slightly trembling, you brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "Niki… are you, by any chance, declaring yourself?"
He huffed with a half-embarrassed smile that tinted his cheeks a soft pink. "Fuck, you… you’ve made me soft too many times these past weeks, especially right now," he admitted, shaking his head, almost incredulous at the power you had over him.
"So… is it green for you too?" you asked, watching him closely. Niki’s eyes widened, he hadn’t expected you to ask for his confirmation too, but it was a mutual respect you’d found in each other. Then he smiled softly.
"Lime green, Tiffany green… I don’t even remember how many other kinds of green there are… but yes, it’s super green right now."
Your hands slid downward, meeting the buckle of his belt. With a determined but clumsy motion, you unclasped it, letting it fall somewhere on the floor. Niki didn’t waste time, he shimmied out of his jeans in quick movements, tossing them aside. When he leaned over you again, the contact between his erection, still covered by the thin fabric of his boxers, and your already sensitive, pulsing intimacy wrung a muffled moan from both of you.
"Take them off yourself, Y/N," he murmured. With fingers that refused to stay still, you played with the waistband of his boxers, sliding your hands up his hips before pulling them down. And when your eyes finally met his full nudity, his rosy, tense shaft already glistening with pre-cum, your pupils dilated with a mix of shock and desire at how big and thick he was. Niki closed his eyes, groaning.
"This… well, this is what you do to me, Y/N."
"Is that… a good thing?" you asked in a whisper, almost seeking confirmation of the power you felt over him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, chuckling softly.
"Yeah, it’s a great thing, Wren. Except when we’re in public and I can’t do anything about it."
Without asking for permission, you reached out and touched him, wrapping your hand around his hot, taut skin. You felt his breath catch instantly.
"I… there’ll be other opportunities where you can tease me like this… or where you can be on top of me," he stammered, trying to keep control as his muscles tensed under your touch. "But fuck, Y/N, if I’m not inside you in the next few minutes, I’m gonna come like some inexperienced kid. And I want your first time to be perfect." He almost laughed, and you nodded.
You watched as he reached toward the nightstand and grabbed a silver square a condom. "Don’t think the worst, it’s not mine," he said immediately, as if he needed to justify himself to avoid seeming presumptuous. "I asked someone I trust for it earlier and don’t think I planned this, or that I took you for granted...."
But you gently placed a hand over his lips, silencing him. You wanted him to know that his thoughtfulness meant more than he realized.
"Shut up, Niki. You’ve never pressured me into anything. In fact, I appreciate that you thought about protection. I’m not on the pill, and I want to do this safely."
He nodded, visibly relieved, and with expert but quick fingers, he tore open the condom. You, driven by curiosity, tried to help, but he gently shook his head, stopping your hands.
"Next time, I’ll teach you how, I promise… but we only have one, and I need to feel you as mine so badly that I can’t risk messing this up." His voice was urgent as he positioned himself above you.
Niki positioned himself with painstaking slowness between your legs, lifting your hips slightly with a pillow to ease the union. His eyes never left yours, searching for that final silent "yes." When you nodded, he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep kiss as his hips pushed gently against your entrance.
Feeling the tip of his cock tease your sensitivity wrung a moan of pure desire from you.
"I’ll stop immediately if it hurts, Y/N. Don’t be afraid or embarrassed to tell me, okay?" he whispered, his concern melting your heart, you’d never have imagined the guy you met over three months ago could be this tender with you.
"Please… I want to be yours," you breathed, your voice ragged. Niki didn’t need to be told twice. With a slow, controlled thrust, he slid inside you, and you both moaned in unison him from the heat enveloping him, you from the unfamiliar fullness you’d never felt before.
"Fuck… you’re so tight, it’s driving me crazy," he groaned through clenched teeth, feeling how snugly you clenched around him.
"It’s… it’s so big, Niki," you whispered, eyes wide. He looked at you with a mix of pride and worry, kissing the tip of your nose.
"I’m sorry, baby… I’ll try to be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re gripping me so tight it’s hard to stay still."
He paused for a few moments inside you, letting your body adjust to his size. You could feel every millimeter of him, and soon, driven by an irresistible instinct, you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer. Niki cursed again:
"God, Y/N… you’re making it impossible to keep any self-control." He tried not to hurt you, but you begged:
"You can move… please, move."
Niki pulled back slightly, then, without warning, pushed in almost fully, and you clung to his shoulder as you felt the walls of your vagina stretch to accommodate him completely. It burned—it was an intense stretch but the sensation of finally being "filled" by him overpowered any pain your body had ever felt.
When he felt you slowly relax, he began to move, first with caution, then with growing fervor. His shaft slid perfectly inside you, lubricated by your own desire, and with every deep thrust, the sound of your bodies colliding and your moans filled the room.
Your hands sought his hair, pulling him closer as your nails left red marks on his bare back every time he took you harder. Niki nipped at your neck a possessive gesture that made you lose your mind.
"Please, Niki! Don’t… don’t stop," you pleaded, now lost in pleasure, feeling how warmly you welcomed him, how your legs clenched around him. Niki decided to change the angle and shifted slightly on the bed, rolling you onto your side.
"Niki, where are you going? What are you doing?" you stammered, eyes glazed, your breath ragged with a mix of lust and panic.
"Trust me, Wren… I’ll make you feel good," he replied with a knowing smile. Niki slid one arm under your back, pulling you even closer, while his other hand grabbed your thigh, lifting it decisively over his hip. In that position, the angle changed drastically, his cock slid even deeper, reaching spots you didn’t even know were so sensitive. You felt his shaft press with surgical precision against your G-spot, and the pleasure was so sharp that you buried your face against his neck, biting his hot skin to keep from screaming too loudly—afraid someone might hear.
"More, Niki… more, please!" you begged between moans, your nails digging into his shoulders. He didn’t need to be asked twice. Feeling how completely at his mercy you were, he intensified his thrusts: he began alternating short strokes, making you feel only the tip entering and exiting, tormenting your pussy, before plunging deep and powerful, stealing your breath. He felt like he was in heaven as your vagina clenched around him divinely, as if it had been made just for him. But it wasn’t enough, while he continued to claim you, he slid his free hand between your bodies and began stimulating your clit with his thumb.
"Niki… fuck, it’s too much! I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come!" you cried, arching your back as the pleasure became almost unbearable from how divinely his cock slid inside you. He began whispering dirty, sweet words to make you lose all control.
"It’s not too much, Wren. It’s exactly what you deserve. Look at me while you come for me… look how beautiful you are while I take you like this." He lifted your chin, and you wrapped your other leg around his hip, erasing every millimeter of space between you.
"You’re so good, my little Wren… look how well you take all of me, look how you tremble for me."
You nodded, completely overwhelmed, until a second violent orgasm swept over you for the second time that night. The muscles of your vagina contracted rhythmically around him, milking him, and Niki groaned loudly, thrusting even deeper.
"That’s my good girl," he whispered, kissing you fiercely. You thought he was done, that your climax marked the end, but Niki hadn’t released his tension yet. With renewed fervor, he began fucking you again in that position, and the sound of his cock slamming into your pussy was the only thing filling the room, along with your breaths and moans. Then, suddenly, Niki’s muscles tensed he was coming too.
"Fuck, Y/N… I’m about to… I’m coming too," he stammered, eyes wide. You burst into tears at how stimulating it was to see him come, and as you felt Niki unload all his cum in hot spurts inside the condom, he stayed inside you for minutes, still, his chest rising and falling frantically. It was beautiful to still feel him inside, to feel his heat slowly calming, and he began stroking your entire body with infinite tenderness as you snuggled against his chest as if it were your only refuge.
"It was… it was beautiful," you whispered softly. Niki lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on your sweat-dampened forehead. "Was it too much? Did I hurt you?" he asked, a hint of concern in his eyes. But you shook your head.
"It was unreal," you replied, making him smile in relief.
"I’m glad your first time was with me, Wren. And that you trusted me… even though I know I don’t exactly have a spotless reputation," he admitted, with a touch of melancholy that vanished as soon as you pulled him into a tighter embrace. With extreme slowness, he pulled out of you with a sigh, and you watched as he got up gracefully, removing the condom and tossing it in the trash before lying back down beside you, pulling you back into his arms.
The only sounds in the room were the rhythm of your breaths slowly returning to normal and, in the background, the muffled beat of the music still playing outside the summer camp. Niki lay beside you, his arm pressed against yours, and you could feel the cold metal of his rings absentmindedly playing with your fingers a nervous gesture that betrayed how shaken he still was.
When you lifted your gaze, you realized he hadn’t stopped staring at you, his expression unreadable. Curious as you were, you wanted to know what was going through his mind.
"Do… do I have something on my face?" you asked softly, suddenly feeling naked under his intense gaze. Niki shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.
"What’s on your mind?" you asked, stroking his cheek with your thumb. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the touch he loved so much, and said:
"I have so many things running through my head right now that I don’t even know how to act with you in this moment… I feel… strange, but in a good way."
You nodded and whispered, trying to reassure him: "You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, Niki."
"What we just did was beautiful… I hope you know how much I trust you… and I hope that, despite my lack of experience, it was special for you too." You said it, fearing for a second that you might have been "not enough" for him because you knew he’d had more experience. At those words, Niki seemed to snap out of it and turned fully toward you, hovering over your body without crushing you, and wrapped you in a protective embrace, burying his face against your neck as if afraid of being discovered or maybe just afraid of the new reality you both found yourselves in for the first time.
"Don’t joke around, fuck… it was amazing from start to finish. I’d do it with you forever… don’t think or compare yourself to anyone else," he murmured, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin.
"Wren, I can’t keep pretending to be detached anymore… I… I… I like you so damn much." He said it against your neck, but he was seriously afraid of sounding like a fool in that moment. You chuckled softly, stroking his sweaty hair.
"I like you too, Niki. I think even the walls of this bungalow have figured it out by now." You said, and he lifted himself onto his arms, looking at you with almost frustration.
"No, fuck, that’s not what I wanted to say! It’s not just 'I like you.' It’s just that I… I…"
Seeing his struggle, you gently placed a hand over his lips, stopping the internal conflict you could read on his face, and said naturally: "I love you, Niki."
Niki’s eyes widened, and he froze, as if you’d just thrown down a challenge with those words. The silence lasted a second too long, and you seriously feared he wouldn’t say it back or would pull away from you. But then he scoffed loudly, letting his head fall back.
"Damn it! I was supposed to say it first, Y/N! You beat me to it!" he exclaimed, visibly annoyed with himself. You shrugged with a sly little smile.
"Well, you could’ve been faster." You teased, laughing, and he replied:
"I love you too, Wren. In case it wasn’t obvious from the way I look at you or from how I’m currently trying not to look like an idiot." He said it as he couldn’t stop touching you, a new light shining in his eyes. You pulled him back to you, enjoying the warmth of his chest against yours.
"I’m happy to hear you say it. It was a little embarrassing watching you suffer so much trying to spit out those two words!"
He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop smiling. "Oh yeah, very funny. I’ll get my revenge, just you wait."
And he started kissing you everywhere—your chin, your cheeks, the tip of your nose—whispering "I love you" every time his lips touched your skin, as if it were now easier to say it spontaneously.
"I’m really glad they put us in the same room together," he finally said, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling you in for a serious kiss. "It was the best thing that could’ve happened to us."
"Definitely," you replied, laughing in his arms, finally feeling completely at home.
⌗ in which . . . yang jungwon, your idol boyfriend, got unexpectedly sulky after catching you reading something you definitely weren’t supposed to see and it only gets worse from there
流星 ໑ . . idolbf!jungwon x fem!reader
⌗ includes . . . smut (18+), secret relationship, established relationship, hinted jealousy, reader is easy af ✌️, possessive behavior, power imbalance, degradation and praise, overstimulation, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t), penetrative sex, rough sex, breeding kink, mommy kink, creampie, reader & won are certified freaks ➜ intended for mature audiences | minors do not interact ♡ purely a work of fiction, none of this reflects reality | wc: 4.5k
♪ el’s bubble: thought i was so damn intelligent when i took snippets from pillows & aftershocks 🤣 requested, thank you very muchi! please enjoy — likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply appreciated on here ♡ requests are open if you want to see me write something specific ۫ ׅ
tags: @simsimluver @maishee @grdientlips @psychicdazestrawberry @kristynaaah @heesroses @vmpiricou @seungiesdoll @malibluess @stwryun @hooniluhv @rikisn @hazeheart12 @exclipszz @melancholatte @bluepains @gojopolo @jasmineeee1009 @ming1luvr @ni-k1ttie @enzsstuff01 @ixnotmee | send an ask if you’d like to be added ˙𐃷˙
now playing . . . k. by cigarettes after sex
If someone were to ask you what the scariest situation was to be in on planet earth, what would it be?
To be left in an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere without any signal? Losing money right after payday? Getting chased by something you can’t quite see? Realize you’ve been saying the wrong word your whole life in public? This and that?
Losing money would be an amazing pick, obviously. That panic? That slow, sinking realization? Remembering you have to pay for a parcel the next day? Absolutely horrifying.
Still, nothing compares to dating an idol.
But it’s a good thing that Yang Jungwon has managed to keep you his extremely classified, top-secret, highly illegal little secret for more than eight months now — far away from the public eye, paparazzi, and literally anyone with a functioning camera phone.
He’s an incredibly amazing boyfriend, really.
Between packed schedules that blur into each other, endless rehearsals, constant staff supervision, and barely-there breaks that disappear the second they arrive, he has still somehow managed to treat you with so much care without ever making you feel like you come second.
Not even once.
About three months ago, they had just gotten back from a tour in the Americas, exhaustion was practically written all over him, and the next thing you know, he’s standing at your doorstep like it was the most normal thing in the world. He’d successfully slipped out of the dorm unnoticed, hands full of small gifts and a slightly crooked bouquet of flowers like he picked it in a hurry because he definitely did.
You both ended up sitting on the floor sifting through everything for over an hour, laughing over the smallest things, until he eventually went quiet and just fell asleep on your lap in your living room like he had finally allowed himself to stop pretending that he wasn’t so tired.
If he wasn’t on tour, he’d always carve out whatever time he could for you, even if it was just thirty minutes between everything else. His favorite kind being quick convenience store runs where you’d pick snacks like it was a life-or-death decision and he’d act like he wasn’t soft for every single second of it.
Though nothing ever really tops the rare breaks when the group gets to visit their families. He always takes you with him, as though it’s completely routine, and his mother greets you like you’ve been part of the family since forever, always insisting on cooking you a warm bowl of ramyun while Jungwon sits beside you looking far too content for someone who’s supposed to be “resting.”
The feeling of being with him was surreal, and you’d always see his fans thirst over him online, talking about how “his girlfriend would be so lucky.”
Damn right you were, the luckiest girl in the whole world even.
As someone who was fond of reading and had an absurd amount of free time on your hands, dating an idol did come with its perks, one of them being having a fandom that wrote way too many stories about him and his group.
At night, after your skincare routine, flossing your teeth, and getting into comfy clothes, you’d always hop on the internet on a burner account and start reading whatever fic popped up on your timeline, like it was part of your nightly ritual.
Having been interacting almost exclusively with Jungwon-related posts, your whole feed was basically just an endless loop of fanfictions, edits, and cute photos of your boyfriend you were technically not supposed to be giggling at this late at night.
Tonight was no different.
You were on your iPad, curled up comfortably in bed, the room brightly lit, the bedside lamp still on while the curtains stayed drawn shut over the windows. The rest of the world felt distant in that quiet, late-night way where everything is slowed down and a little too still.
You were just going to “check it out.”
That’s what you told yourself before opening it.
Now you were several paragraphs deep, completely locked in, scrolling with slow, deliberate swipes like your brain needed time to process what it was willingly consuming.
"God, I've wanted this for so long," he murmured against your lips, his voice a husky growl that vibrated through you, "to feel you like this, to be inside you, filling you up until you're trembling around me."
That’s hot.
No delay, and definitely no hesitation. An instant reaction like your brain had completely bypassed logic and gone straight to judgment.
You paused mid-scroll, eyes still locked on the screen, but your expression had clearly left the conversation. Your expression had softened into something more interested, more engaged.
His words ignited a fire in your belly, your body arching toward him in eager response, the slick warmth between your legs growing impossible to ignore as he confessed his desires, each admission wrapping around you like an intoxicating promise.
Woah there.
That one made you pause.
A small breath left you, almost a laugh, but it wasn’t mockery — more like you were impressed, a little flustered, and definitely not uninterested. You muttered something under your breath before shifting slightly under the blanket.
With a swift motion, Jungwon tore off his own shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his chest and the faint sheen of sweat that highlighted his build, his commanding presence only amplifying the intensity of the moment.
He’d be so hot like that.
That thought came instantly, clean and unfiltered, like your brain didn’t even bother asking for permission anymore.
You were immersed.
So immersed, apparently, that you completely missed the shifting of blankets beside you.
The dip of the mattress had barely registered.
A quiet rustle sounded somewhere behind you.
Warmth followed shortly after.
The dip of the mattress had barely registered beneath you, your attention still hopelessly trapped inside the glowing screen in your hands, too invested in fictional Jungwon to realize the real one had just slipped into bed beside you.
“So, what could my beautiful princess possibly be doing on the internet when her incredibly handsome boyfriend is beside her right now?”
The sudden voice sliced clean through your concentration.
Shit.
That’s right.
It was one of the group’s rare days off, which meant Jungwon was currently in your apartment and staying the night — something that happened so rarely you genuinely forgot how to function normally around him sometimes.
Especially when you were busy reading fanfiction about him on full brightness like somebody with absolutely zero survival instincts.
Acting purely on panic, you hastily shoved your iPad toward the edge of the bed, just far enough that maybe neither of you could immediately reach it, but with not enough force to throw it completely off of the bed.
Unfortunately, Jungwon had stupidly fast reflexes.
The second Jungwon noticed the sudden, incredibly suspicious way you shoved the iPad toward the edge of the bed, his entire expression changed.
One eyebrow lifted slowly.
You saw it happen in real time too, watched amusement begin settling into his face as he shifted onto one elbow beside you, eyes narrowing slightly at your panicked attempt to hide the screen like you’d just been caught committing tax fraud instead of reading whatever popped up on your timeline.
“Wait,” he said slowly, already reaching over before you could stop him, “what was that?”
“Nothing.”
Damn it.
The answer came out far too fast to sound believable.
Jungwon let out a quiet laugh through his nose, the mattress dipping further as he leaned closer, fingers wrapping around the edge of the iPad with almost insulting ease despite the way you immediately grabbed at his wrist in desperation.
“Jungwon, please don’t.”
Unfortunately, he was already looking.
The second his eyes landed on the screen, you physically felt your lifespan shorten.
His gaze moved once across the paragraph.
Then again.
Then, to your absolute horror, his lips slowly parted into the most entertained smile you had ever seen in your life.
It wasn't even the smile he made when he was about to tease you, it was the smile wherein he was deeply, genuinely amused by something.
Meanwhile you were experiencing the psychological equivalent of being thrown into oncoming traffic.
Your entire body stiffened as he kept reading in complete silence, eyes trailing down the screen with far too much focus, like he was actually invested in the plot progression instead of reading filthy fanfiction written about himself.
And the worst part?
The worst possible part?
He looked so darn pleased.
A small smile kept tugging at the corner of his mouth every few seconds, shoulders shaking ever so slightly whenever he reached a particularly insane line.
Oh my god.
Why would you choose to read this on an iPad?
A massive one too.
Bright enough to illuminate the entire room like a public presentation meant to be flashed to a plethora of people.
Why not on your phone like a normal, secretive person with survival instincts?
Actually no, why were you reading this while the real Yang Jungwon was literally in bed beside you?
And why didn’t you listen to your friend when she told you to buy a privacy screen protector because “one day this will save your life.”
Clearly she had seen the future.
“This,” Jungwon murmured slowly, eyes still glued to the screen while his smile widened, “is what you’ve been doing while I’m away?”
Mortification hit you so hard you immediately snatched the nearest pillow and smacked him directly in the shoulder.
“Stop reading it!”
Jungwon finally lifted his eyes from the screen, immediately meeting your horrified expression with one of complete betrayal.
Actual betrayal.
His lips slowly pressed into a pout as you snatched the iPad from his hands and held it protectively against your chest like a sacred artifact.
“What?” he complained, voice quieter now, sulky in a way that would’ve been cute if you weren’t actively dying of embarrassment. “I barely even got to the good part.”
“You were never supposed to get to any part to begin with.”
His pout deepened instantly.
“But you threw it,” he mumbled, sinking lower into the bed until only his eyes were really visible above the blanket. “How was I supposed to ignore that?”
“Very easily, actually,” you shoot back without hesitation.
Jungwon frowned at that, unconvinced.
For a few seconds, he just stared at you in silence, looking weirdly disappointed about losing access to the fanfiction written about himself. Then he let out a long sigh and flopped dramatically onto his back beside you.
“You’re so mean,” he muttered toward the ceiling.
You stared at him in disbelief.
“In what way am I being mean?”
“Yes,” he said immediately, still pouting, and incredibly serious. “You can read it but I can’t?”
“Because it’s embarrassing!”
“But I wanted to know what happens next,” he whined softly, turning his head toward you with the most pathetic expression imaginable. “You interrupted the plot.”
That made you pause.
“…the plot?” you repeated slowly, narrowing your eyes.
Jungwon hummed like it was obvious, still sulking. “Yes. The emotional buildup, the character development. I was literally just getting into it.”
You stared at him for a second longer, then scoffed under your breath. “It’s not your plot.”
“It literally is about me.”
“That’s not the damn point.”
He tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking between you and the iPad you were still holding hostage against your chest, then slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows.
A faint, mischievous glint started replacing the pout.
“Then why don’t we just…” he trailed off, voice softer now, teasing in a way that made your stomach drop slightly, “see for ourselves?”
The words hung in the air between you, a challenge wrapped in silk. He didn't dare to move, didn't dare to break eye contact, just let the silence stretch until it pressed against your skin like a second layer of heat.
Your mouth went dry.
The iPad was still pressed against your chest like a shield, but it felt so flimsy now, useless. He was looking at you with that slow, knowing smile, and the space between you on the mattress felt like it was shrinking even though neither of you had moved.
"And how exactly would we do that, baby?" you heard yourself ask, the words coming out steadier than you felt.
He didn't answer with words.
Hell no.
He just simply reached over, gently prying the iPad from your fingers and setting it aside on the nightstand, screen facedown. His hand lingered there for a moment before he turned back to you, and when he spoke, his voice was low, rougher than before.
"No need to overthink it," he murmured, his hand finding your waist, sliding around to the small of your back. He tugged you closer, and you went easily, your body remembering how to fit against his before your brain caught up. "Just feel it, princess."
His mouth found yours, and the kiss was immediate, deep and hungry, like he'd been holding back for hours instead of seconds.
His tongue slid against yours, tasting, claiming, and your hands moved of their own accord, one burying in his hair, the other flattening against his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath your palm.
He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, and his hand on your hip tightened, fingers digging into the soft flesh there hard enough to leave crescents.
"Please," you breathed against his lips, not even sure what you were asking for yet. "Baby, please."
He rolled, pressing you onto your back, his weight settling over you, and the kiss deepened until you could barely breathe.
His free hand roamed up your side, palm dragging over your ribs, your waist, leaving trails of fire until his fingers brushed the underside of your breast through the fabric of your shirt.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, hooded eyes dropping to where his hand rested. "No bra?" His voice was rough, surprised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You've been walking around like this all day with me in your apartment?"
"Couldn't—couldn't think straight with you here," you admitted, your voice shaky. "I so badly wanted to feel your skin. Wanted—I don't know—"
"You wanted this," he finished for you, his thumb already finding your nipple through the thin cotton, rubbing slow circles that made your breath hitch.
The fabric was damp from his touch now, clinging to the hardening peak. "Wanted me to touch you. To fuck you."
"Fuck," he breathed, his thumb pressing down harder. "That's hot. So fucking hot, knowing you were just waiting for me to take you."
He massaged the soft weight of your breast, kneading, squeezing, his fingers digging into the flesh as if he couldn't quite believe his luck.
His other hand came up to join the first, cupping both, thumbs circling your nipples in tandem, watching your face the whole time, watching you writhe beneath him.
"Please," you whimpered. "Please touch me more."
"You have no idea what that does to me," he murmured, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. "Knowing you're here, with me, and there's quite literally nothing between me and your skin except this stupid shirt."
His hands slid down, gripping the hem, and he tugged it upward in one smooth motion. You lifted your arms, desperate to be bare for him, and he peeled it off and tossed it aside.
The cool air hit your bare skin before his mouth did.
He dipped his head immediately, lips closing around your nipple, and the wet heat of his tongue made you gasp.
"Yes—fuck, baby, yes—"
He sucked hard, drawing the sensitive peak deep into his mouth, tongue flicking over the tip before pulling away with a soft pop. Your nipple was wet, glistening, pebbled tight in the cool air.
"Already imagined you moaning in my head before I even touched you," he said against your skin, trailing wet kisses between your breasts. "Those little sounds you make when you're reading your little stories. Arching your back in bed at night, rubbing your thighs together, pretending I'm not right there in the next room."
Your stomach tightened.
Heat flooded your cheeks.
He knew.
Damn it, Yang Jungwon.
His lips found your other nipple, laving it with his tongue before suckling, and his hand slid down your belly, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.
He hummed against your skin, the vibration making your knees weak, your hips bucking into his hand.
"You think some words on a digital book can make you feel like this?" He pulled back, meeting your eyes, his own dark with raw intent. "I'm about to show you what it really feels like. Better than anything you've ever imagined. Better than any made-up man with his made-up cock."
"Show me," you begged, your voice breaking. "Please, baby. I need—"
He didn't let you finish.
He tugged at your shorts, and you lifted your hips desperately, letting him pull them down along with your underwear. He tossed them aside, then settled between your spread thighs, his body a warm, heavy weight against yours.
"Already so, so wet for me, princess," he observed, his voice low and reverent. He pressed two fingers against your entrance, gathering the slick there, and brought them to his lips, tasting you slowly, deliberately. "So sweet. Such a good girl, already dripping for me."
"God, you’re such a tease," you gasped, reaching for his cock through his sweatpants, feeling the thick outline straining against the fabric. "Please, fuck me. I've been thinking about it all day. Your cock—I wanted it in my mouth, in my pussy—I wanted—"
"You want me inside you," he finished for you, grinding his palm against your clit through his pants. "You want me to fill you up. That’s what you want?"
"Yes," you sobbed. "Yes, yes, yes."
He lowered his mouth to your breast again, sucking your nipple hard while his fingers found your bare clit, circling it lazily. The dual sensation sent a violent shiver through you, your hips bucking against his hand.
"That's it," he murmured against your skin. "Beg for me, princess. I want to hear you say it. Say what you want me to do to your tight little pussy."
"Please—your fingers—in me—" you gasped. "Please fuck me with your fingers, I need—I need to feel something inside—"
His fingers slid lower, pressing into your wet heat without warning, two at once, and you cried out at the stretch.
"Fuck, you're so tight. So goddamn tight for someone so desperate for cock."
He pumped two fingers inside you, curling them up against that rough patch of nerves, his thumb still working your clit in tight circles. You gasped, your fingers gripping his shoulders, nails digging in.
"One," he breathed, his voice a dirty whisper against your lips, "you're gonna come for me once before I even get my cock inside you. Show me how good I can make you feel. Show me what your pussy does when it's being fucked right, princess."
His fingers sped up, the wet, obscene sounds of your body filling the room, and he bit down gently on your nipple at the same time.
The overload sent you crashing over the edge, your body shuddering, your moans broken and desperate, your cunt clenching hard around his fingers.
"That's it," he groaned, working you through it, his fingers still pumping, milking every last spasm. "Look at you. So fucking pretty when you're coming for me. Squeezing my fingers like that."
He pulled his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his mouth again, licking them clean while holding your gaze.
The sight made your thighs clench, a fresh wave of wetness pooling between them.
"More," you begged, your voice hoarse. "Please, baby. I need your cock, I need it inside me, please—"
He sat up, reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants, and you could see the outline of his cock straining against the fabric, thick and hard, the head wet with precum.
Your mouth went dry.
"See something you want, princess?" he asked, a wolfish smile playing on his lips.
"Please," you whispered, reaching out. "Let me taste it. Please, let me suck your cock. I've been thinking about it all day, how it would feel in my mouth, how you'd taste—"
He laughed, low and dark. "Eager little thing, aren't you?"
He didn't let you, he hooked your fingers into his waistband and tugged his sweatpants down himself.
He lifted his hips, letting them fall, and then his boxers followed, and his cock sprang free, thick, flushed, the tip glistening with a bead of precum.
He kicked off his shirt too, tossing it aside, and knelt before you completely bare, letting you look your fill.
"You like what you see?" he asked, his voice a low rasp. "You want this cock inside you?"
"Yes," you breathed. "Please. I need you so bad—"
"Good." He crawled over you, positioning himself between your thighs. "Because I'm gonna wreck you so bad you won't even remember the names of those characters you've been reading about. You'll forget every word, every fantasy. After tonight, the only thing you'll remember is how my cock feels splitting you open."
He lined himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your wet entrance, but he didn't push in yet.
Instead, he leaned down, his mouth hovering over yours.
"Eyes here, princess," he said, his hand coming up to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. "I want you to see me make you feel good. I want you to watch my face while I fuck you."
He pushed in, slow and deep, inch by inch, and the stretch was exquisite, a fullness that made your eyes flutter before he tightened his grip on your chin.
"I said eyes here."
Your focus snapped back to his face, and he smiled, a soft, almost tender thing, even as his hips began to move, each inch sinking deeper.
"That's my good girl. My pretty little mommy."
The word slipped out, low and worshipful, and he seemed to sink deeper into the role.
"You feel that? Feel how deep I am? That's me, princess. Nobody writes that better than I can show you right now. Tell me how good I feel."
"So good," you gasped, your hands clawing at his back. "So deep, fuck—you're so thick, baby—"
"Yeah? You like feeling full?" He thrust deeper, grinding his hips against yours. "You like knowing my dick is the only thing that can satisfy this greedy little pussy?"
"Yes—yes, baby, only you—only you—"
He set a punishing rhythm, each thrust hitting that spot inside you that made sparks dance behind your eyes.
His hand left your chin and found your breast again, squeezing, his thumb rubbing over your nipple.
"You're so fucking perfect," he groaned, his forehead dropping to yours. "Your pussy is gripping me so tight, mommy. Like you were made for my cock. Like you were made to take every inch."
The praise sent a thrill through you, and you clenched around him involuntarily. He groaned at the sensation, his hips stuttering.
"Yeah, that's it. You like when I call you that?" He thrust harder, faster, the sound of skin on skin filling the room, wet and obscene. "You want me to worship this body like you deserve? I'll do it. I'll spend all night proving I'm the only thing you need."
"More," you begged, your voice breaking. "Harder, please—I need more, fuck—"
He slowed, drawing almost all the way out before pushing back in, deep and slow, letting you feel every inch of him, every ridge, every vein.
His hand slid down your stomach, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts.
"Come for me," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "Come on my cock, mommy. Let me feel you. Show me how good I make you feel."
The pressure built, coiling low in your abdomen, and when his thumb pressed harder against your clit, you shattered, your orgasm crashing through you in waves, your cry swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you through it. Your cunt clenched and fluttered around his cock, milking him.
"Fuck, that's it, squeeze me, such a good fucking girl," he groaned against your lips, his hips stuttering. "So good for me. So perfect."
He pulled out, and before you could catch your breath, he was flipping you onto your stomach, hiking your hips up, and pressing into you from behind in one smooth motion.
The angle was even deeper, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes, and you gasped, your fingers twisting in the sheets.
"Yes, fuck—yes, yes—"
"You think that was good?" he breathed, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. "We're just getting started. I'm gonna fill you up so many times tonight you'll lose count."
He fucked you hard, fast, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust, and when he leaned over your back, his mouth found your ear.
"One more," he whispered, his voice ragged. "Just one more, and then I'm gonna fill this tight pussy up so full you'll feel me for days. Beg me for it."
"Please, please come inside me—" you sobbed, your voice muffled by the pillow. "Please, baby, fill me up, I want it—shit, I want all of it—"
His hand slid around to your front, fingers finding your clit again, and he rubbed in tight, punishing circles while he fucked you from behind.
It was too much, way too much, the stretch and the pressure and his voice, the wet sounds of his cock thrusting into your sopping cunt, and you came again, your body trembling, your moans muffled by the pillow, your knees giving out beneath you.
He followed right after, pulling out and stroking himself twice before he came across your lower back and ass, thick and hot, painting your skin with his release, with a groan that sounded almost pained.
"Oh fuck—yes—"
He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his chest heaving against your back.
His hand traced lazy patterns on your hip, smearing his cum across your skin, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, satisfied.
"Bet those stories never made you feel like that."
You laughed weakly, still catching your breath, and turned in his arms to face him.
“You’re so insufferable to the point it’s irritating, Jungwon,” you said quietly.
He was looking at you with that same amused, adoring smile, but there was something deeper behind it now, something possessive and proud.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then pulled back, his eyes glinting with dark promise.
"I'm not done," he murmured, his hand already sliding between your thighs, finding you wet and ready again. "I've got all night to prove my point."
