Who was the one to propose: Hoseok, even though it probably took him a while.
Who stressed more over wedding planning: Yumi, Hoseok was too busy with planning what food they’d have at the reception.
Who decorated the house: Yumi.
Who is more organized: Yumi.
Who initiates bedroom fun: Hoseok.
Who suggested kids first: Neither, it never came up.
Who’s more dominant: Hoseok.
Who’s the cuddler: Yumi.
What’s their favorite non-sexual activity: Getting mad at each other because they never go out anymore, but in reality they both take over an hour to get ready so they’re both at fault.
Who kills the spiders: Hoseok.
Who falls asleep first: Both of them.
Who is louder? Yumi.
Who is more experimental? Yumi.
Do they fuck or make love? They fuck.
Who is more likely to be caught masturbating? Hoseok.
Who comes first? Yumi.
Who is better at oral and who prefers it? It’s equal.
Who usually initiates things? Yumi, because Hoseok is forever stupid.
many a night, sam had gotten lost in the garden of yumi’s mind, but lately, there was a hankering sort of emotion he couldn’t get rid of; a reaction that started at the curve of her hips and travelled down sleek thighs onto even sleeker legs, ending in petite feet. sam liked petite; had a damn near thing for it really, but only when it came to the little things about a person and not where it mattered most. he could have easily written it off as a schoolboy crush, but in the days when he heard her laughter and witnessed that thousand watt smile of hers, he was sure this was what lust felt like, and somehow… he liked the dull ache of it.
easily blamed on reckless abandon, one could say that sam was looking for the pain of being slightly obsessed with one of his good friends, or that perhaps, the premise of rejection was enough to get him hard on the most meager of nights – either way, it all chalked up to the same fucking conclusion, one that flashed in bold and repeated itself more-over in his mind in bpm, with a lack of rpm, or even rem for that matter. could it really be as simple as holding her with his eyes, if it meant that things wouldn’t get awkward ? from across the table, he could imagine the outline of the lace that encased her from him, all tight and proper against milky flesh, flesh he could easily trace with the outlines of digits, with his teeth, with his lips.
he could, ever so slowly, undo the fitted jeans that accentuated each curve that fed his vision, the same curves that filled out and made yumi what she was, what he wanted, what he could covet in moments flat, had she known. perhaps, he could linger at her temple as he grazed his hands along the nape of her neck, reminding her that beauty was a concept that was not lost on her, and that each dip and groove was only building on the suspense that was her – that each breath she permitted him could be used as fuel for days, weeks, months, even. lithe-like, he could slip to his knees to be engrossed in the very essence of the other, if only, he could spread those thighs, so very thin…
“sam?” brought back to himself, he blinked a bit, his eyes settling over yumi with a glassy sort of look before his usual default was brought back: a fool’s grin, with crinkling eyes to match.
“i’ve been saying your name for a while, now… the hell you been thinking about, kid?” came her query as she leaned along the table, tilting her head just so.
“oh, you know me, yummy yumi –” he began as well, giving the other a wink, that earned a scoff from the other.
like lingering smoke, the night stretched on, and for sam, that was more than what he needed.
too often, he found himself on a type of whim that called for something he couldn’t quite grasp or understand, but the taste was that of the end of summer, and smelled of the melancholy he kept inside. on such a night, he’d been watching the rain and the sunset that seemed to set behind it, a sight to behold, indeed. perhaps it was the scene of it all that seemed to ring true within, that he was seeing himself reflected in the world at just this moment, but for once, things seemed to make a bit of sense, as opposed to the nonsensical workings of his daily life.
the knock at his door was unexpected, of course, though it wasn’t unsurprising; since his return to seoul, those he hadn’t seen in many a moon had dropped by to uijeong-bu, though most complained of his choice of neighbourhood, as it had been “much easier to find him in hongdae” – explaining that he’d gotten tired of those lights he coveted for a year and a half was hard to do, and putting it into words seemed to be an even more trying task… and so, he was settled with the easier route of his office space, that he needed it, and that his work, was his reason for growing up just a little, but not by much. as it was, he answered the door in nothing but his boxer shorts, so used to the comers-by that he wasn’t expecting the sight of yumi drenched in the shimmering rain he’d just been mesmerized with, and it was only when she pushed past him and stalked off to his bathroom that he realized what was going on, barely giving himself time to shut the door as he went after her.
“it’s not even five oclock, girl – don’t tell me you already been drinkin’;” he managed as he grabbed up a couple of his towels to drape around her, taking the biggest of them all to tower behind her to ruffle at her hair a bit, to which he heard her sigh underneath the cloth, her chest rising and falling before gentle sobs were heard. these visits seemed to make less sense as they continued, but this was his girl, his rideordie, and if the rain she so loved hadn’t fixed things on the way over…
