You’d met at the hotel bar.
At first you didn’t notice him. You were so desperate to get the bartender’s attention (dear god will this day never end? - I just want a stiff drink and then I can at least think straight about this paper I have to write overnight!) that you had completely missed the quietly handsome man sitting next to you.
After three drinks however, and once you’d both shared several looks of commiseration with each other when neither of you could get the - now busy due to the late hour - negligent bartender’s attentions; you felt a small sense of camaraderie building up between the two of you. You decided to ask first,
“So, what brings you here?”
Wow. Good work there. ‘What brings you here?’ you think, do I sound like a cheesy pick up artist or what? He smiles though, and replies with an affected sigh,
“Work, you?”
“An academic conference.” You answer, glad he’s not here for the same event, “I have to give a paper tomorrow, and I’ll admit to you, I haven’t written it yet.”
He laughs at this and it’s a warm sound, charming and carefree. “Aren’t you scared of what the people in charge would say? Or even your fellow panellists?”
And it’s at this point, that you should have just shut up.
“Nah,” you say with a conspiratorial wink, “I don’t know any of the other panellists anyway, they’re probably doing the exact same thing.”
Three hours later and you’re seriously regretting ever entering that bar.
His hands are wonderful on you, deft in their movements, always warm but never too hot. Its the kisses though that have you completely melting; they are both urgent and delicate, clean yet deep. He kissed you first in the elevator, and combined with the speed of the lift around you, you were almost sure your feet left the ground.
You couldn’t stop talking at the bar once you’d started - albeit with a crappy line. He’d listened as you’d explained your research, his eyes bright and playful. He’d spoken little about work but deeply about his interests. He was animated, cheerful and cheeky in turn, his charisma completely infectious.
He’d held your hand shyly out of the elevator. Insisting on his room, a suite several floors above your own, leading you down the corridor, both of your heads buzzing with expectation. You never did this. But he was just so gorgeous, and so sweet...and so many other things.
But what about my paper? You think to yourself, as his fingers unbutton your top, his lips lingering on your neck for just a moment longer than usual, then, I really don’t care about my paper right now.
It lasts until around 4am, when you pass out wrapped in his arms after he’s made you come not once, not twice, but three times; an admirable feat for a complete stranger.
You wake up to your phone’s alarm at 7am and have already turned it to snooze before you realise you’re alone. Alone and in a gigantic bed. A gigantic bed in an enormous suite, and holy shit look at that view?!
Why are the blinds open?!
You quickly look around, gathering your mind back into some semblance of a working order and he falls back into your memory like a guilty secret. Oh no!, you think, this is going to be so embarrassing, then, OH NO, and it hits you like a slap in the face, MY PAPER.
He’s left you a note on the back of the door to the suite saying he’s gone to work, complete with his number and a cute drawing of a cat. You laugh at this, shaking the vivid sexual memories out of your periphery to try and focus on the task at hand. It’s ok, you think, I don’t know anyone at this conference anyway.
Two hours later and you’re blinking rapidly as you try to make your mascara dry quicker, a set of hasty notes stuffed into your laptop bag as you frogmarch yourself across the convention room floor. You manage to even get a cup of the incredibly poor thing that masquerades as coffee at academic conferences, sipping it quickly as you find your way into the nearly full room where your talk is.
It looks like most of the conference is here, you think with a sigh, good lord this is going to be a shit show. You walk up to the panel table, resolved to suffer through it, and sit down on the only spare chair, next to another speaker.
Coming from the seat to your left, a voice laughs lightly at you as you crumple into the chair. You look around and are suddenly looking into those oh-so-recently-familiar eyes and you feel your jaw hit the floor.
“Do you know you snore in your sleep?” Minseok asks, his voice as warm as his smile.
- Ask written for my friend Anon, who requested I write myself some self-care Minseok fics. Here you go honey and thanks for the encouragement! 💞💗💌
