They step through the doorway of Hoseok’s apartment.
It's like a weight comes down on them, the expectation of what happens after a date pressing on them heavily.
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” Hoseok says, fidgeting with his keys. He avoids her eyes. “Don’t feel any pressure, I don’t wanna rope you into doing anything you don’t want to do.”
“Hobi…” she’s a bit lost for words. Hoseok is so sweet, so kind and considerate it makes her heart ache.
Rather than being sappy though, she chooses instead to pinch his cheek and coo at him.
“Ah, my hobi. Always so considerate.” She laughs softly.
He just scowls at her playfully, swatting her hand away.
He meanders over to the kitchen.
Which is how they end up on the couch, eating ice cream and watching some Gordon Ramsey show where he yells at people a lot.
Neither of them are particularly paying attention, though.
The sound of spoons clinking against their bowls is loud in the room, almost as if it could cover the sound of her overthinking.
Her thoughts wander to Hoseok, his warmth next to her. She eyes the way his slim hands grip the spoon, his delicate wrist, his silver link bracelet catching the low light of the tv screen.
How those hands would feel stroking her face, gripping at her waist, her hips, pressing thumbs into her thighs-
She blinks, flushing pink.
Hoseok, of course, notices.
Of course not i was just thinking about your hands and how they would feel all over my naked body-
Fuck. Of course she would stutter.
“You have something on your face.” She says, grasping for something to distract her.
And there it is, a spot of chocolate on the corner of his lip.
“Right here.” She points to the corner of her own mouth.
He swipes at it. “Did I get it?”
“Nope, it's here.” She motions to it again.
She does it without thinking, reaches out and presses a thumb at the corner of his mouth.
She does it slowly, achingly so, as if time itself has slowed in their little pocket of existence.
Her thumb presses in and down, tugging the plush corner of his lip down just a little before it pulls away just the slightest bit wet.
Their eyes meet, and it’s.
The air between them is so fraught with tension you could cut it with a knife, static buzzing in her ears as the blood rushes through them.
His eyes are wide, pupils blown with want. She’s suddenly breathless for some reason, the intensity of his gaze piercing through her.
He leans in closer, ever so close, until their lips can't be more than an inch apart when-
“Tell me if this is too much.” He breathes, voice low in a way that sends shivers through her whole body.
It’s a match made in heaven, chocolate and strawberry, lips warm and tasting of residual ice cream.
Their mouths move in an unseen rhythm, his hands coming up to cup her face, fingers stroking lightly against her jaw before coming to rest against it.
She’s hungry for it, gasping hot against his lips and panting just to dive back in. It's like he's some sort of drug. It's addictive, the blood rushing hot in her veins and tingling low in her belly as she dives in for a taste of him.
He makes a satisfied little noise into the kiss, a little “mmh” sound and it only serves to ignite the fire in her blood.
Their lips catch as they break apart, panting.
Hoseok is stunning, those eyes hooded and glittering, lips red and swollen and kiss-slick.
“Hm?” He kisses her again, a short peck. “What were you gonna say?” He smiles, mischievous.
She kisses him again, frantic and hungry and desperate. Hoseok kisses back just as hungrily, mouth opening immediately as they drink each other in. It's like they can't get enough, their tongues meeting and sparks fizzing down her spine, settling into that growing heat in the pit of her stomach.
“Hoseok-ah,” she gasps against his lips.
Her tongue licks hungily into his mouth, her hands coming to grip at his waist.
His hands drop from her face and go to wrap around her neck, pulling her in closer, pressing their bodies together.
Like this she can feel the heat of him, his lithe frame pressing against her, impossibly closer.
“You taste like fruit.” He murmurs against her lips, kissing her so deeply her head spins.
The kiss is wet, messy and dirty and so slick with spit that a string of drool stretches between their lips when they part.
“Kiss me again,” she breathes.
