Chapter 2: Chapter 2
The elevator doors slid open with a soft *ding*, revealing a bustling office floor, the hum of activity a stark contrast to the intimacy they had just shared. Hwa-young stepped out first, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor, her back straight, her expression unreadable. Jae-hyung followed, his hands tucked into his pockets, his eyes fixed on the floor, his expression equally inscrutable.
"Hwa-young," he began, his voice low, hesitant. "About what happened—"
She turned to face him, her eyes cool, distant. "Nothing happened, Jae-hyung," she said, her voice steady, unyielding. "It was just... stress. The earthquake.
That's what we'll blame it on," Hwa-young said, her voice steady, her eyes never wavering from his. "The stress, the adrenaline. It's a perfectly reasonable explanation."
Jae-hyung's gaze hardened, his jaw clenching as he stared at her. "You can't just dismiss what happened, Hwa-young. Not like it was nothing."
She shrugged, her expression indifferent. "Can't change the past, Jae-hyung. And we both have lives now. Complicated lives."
His eyes flashed with a mix of anger and pain. "You mean Jeong-shin.
Your complicated life," Hwa-young said, her voice barely above a whisper, but the words hung heavy in the air between them. Jae-hyung's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer to her.
"Don't bring her into this, Hwa-young. You know this... this thing between us isn't about her."
Hwa-young's laugh was sharp, bitter. "Isn't it? You're using her, Jae-hyung. Just like you used to use me. To forget, to distract yourself from the past."
His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white. "That's not fair, Hwa-young. You're the one who walked away.
You're the one who left me with nothing but a half-burned letter and a son who didn’t even know my name. Don’t you dare act like you’re the victim here.
His voice was low, controlled, but his eyes betrayed him—they burned with something raw and unspoken. Hwa-young’s breath caught in her throat, her fingers tightening around the strap of her ruined bag. She had spent seven years perfecting that cold, unshakable exterior, but now, standing in the hallway of the building that had once been their home, she felt the weight of his words like a physical blow.
The air between them was thick with tension, the kind that could snap like a taut wire at any moment.
Hwa-young turned away from him, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she walked away from the elevator.
Jae-hyung’s breath hitched, his chest tightening with a mix of frustration and desperation. He didn’t hesitate—he sprinted after her, his long legs eating up the distance between them. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist just as she reached the corner of the hallway. She stumbled slightly, her body leaning into him before she straightened, her eyes flashing with irritation.
"Let go of me," she snapped, but her voice lacked conviction as she tried to pull away.
Jae-hyung didn’t release her. Instead, he tugged her behind him, his grip firm but not cruel, and steered her toward the nearest door. It swung open with a soft *creak*, revealing a small, dimly lit storage room. The scent of old paper and dust filled the air, the faint hum of the office outside a distant murmur. He pushed her inside, the door clicking shut behind them, sealing them in the confined space.
The scent of old paper and dust clung to the air, but it was the way his body pressed against hers that made her pulse quicken. His fingers tightened around her wrist, pulling her closer until their chests were pressed together, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps.
"Jeong-shin," he said, the name slipping from his lips like a confession. His voice was rough, strained, and it cut through the tension like a blade. The sound of it made something inside her twist, a mix of pain and longing. She tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding, his thumb brushing against the pulse point at her wrist, sending a shiver down her spine.
"You don’t get to use her name like that," she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. She tried to twist free, but he held her fast, his other hand finding her waist, pulling her even closer.
The storage room was dim, the emergency lights outside casting faint shadows through the frosted glass window, barely illuminating their faces. The air was thick with the scent of paper, dust, and the musky perfume of their recent lust—a scent she could never wash from her memory.
His grip on her wrist tightened, but his touch was careful, controlled. "You don’t get to act like you don’t know what you’re doing to me, Hwa-young," he growled, his voice low and rough, laced with something fierce and desperate. "Not after what just happened. Not after seven years of running."
She bared her teeth, her breath hot against his face.
"I know exactly what I’m doing."
He crushed his mouth to hers, his hands sliding up to grip the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. She gasped into the kiss, her body arching against him, her nails raking down his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt.
He tore his mouth away just long enough to growl, *"You started this."*
Hwa-young’s answer was a whimper as his teeth sank into the curve of her neck, sharp and possessive. She moaned, her head falling back, exposing more skin to his hungry mouth. His free hand slid down, rough and demanding, gripping her thigh before yanking it up around his hip.
The movement forced her skirt higher, the ruined fabric bunching uselessly at her waist. His fingers found the slick heat between her thighs without hesitation, already soaked through the thin lace of her panties.
"Fuck," he hissed against her throat, his voice raw with need. "You're *dripping* for me."
She gasped as his fingers pressed against her clit through the fabric, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. Her hips jerked forward involuntarily, seeking more pressure, more friction—anything to ease the desperate ache he had ignited.
"You want my fingers inside you, don’t you?" he murmured, his breath hot against her ear as he spoke.
"Tell me what you want, Hwa-young. Tell me how you want me to fuck you."
She whimpered, her body clenching at the dirty words, her mind racing with images of him inside her, stretching her, filling her completely. "I want... I want you to fuck me hard, Jae-hyung. I want you to make me come so hard I can't think, can't breathe."
He groaned, his fingers slipping beneath the lace of her panties, finding her wet, swollen pussy. "Fuck, Hwa-young," he growled, his voice ragged as he slid two fingers inside her, his thumb pressing against her clit.
She cried out, her body arching against him, her pussy clenching around his fingers. He pumped them in and out of her, his rhythm steady and relentless, his thumb rubbing tight circles against her sensitive flesh.
"Oh god, Jae-hyung," she panted, her nails digging into his shoulders, her hips moving in time with his hand. "I'm so close. Don't stop."
He didn't. Instead, he added a third finger, stretching her, filling her completely. She gasped, her body tensing as he curled his fingers upward, hitting that sweet spot inside her that made her see stars.
"Come for me, Hwa-young," he commanded, his voice low and rough.
His fingers moved inside her with a relentless precision, his thumb pressing harder against her clit, his other fingers curling inside her to hit that perfect spot. She could feel her orgasm building, her body tightening around his fingers, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Jae-hyung, please," she begged, her voice trembling with need. "I can't take it anymore. I need you to fill me up."
He didn't answer with words. Instead, he pulled his fingers out of her pussy and slid them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a loud, wet sound that made her moan in anticipation. His eyes never left hers as he licked his lips, savoring the taste of her.
"You taste fucking incredible, Hwa-young," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "I've been dreaming of this for seven years. I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of being inside you."
She whimpered, her body clenching at his words, her pussy throbbing with need. He didn't waste any time—he unbuckled his belt, the sound of it echoing in the small room, and pushed his pants down just enough to free his hard, throbbing cock. She could see it, thick and veined, straining toward her, and she licked her lips in anticipation.
"Get on your knees," he ordered, his voice firm.