too deep.

The apartment was small — a studio in the centre of the city. You could even say it felt a little cluttered, in the sort of way that made it feel homey rather than cramped. A bookshelf filled with novels — so many that they had begun to spill onto the windowsills — leaned slightly beneath their weight.

Rain tapping against the windows filled the room with noise, blending with the sound of the music drifting through the speakers — a slow, silky jazz piece.

Jimin lay on the bed, her body scarcely covered by the sheets, eyes closed, only opening them occasionally to peer over at the furrow in his brow as he sketched her, seemingly unhappy with his work.

“You know,” she murmured, “getting this right isn’t exactly a life-or-death situation.”

He lifted his head, glancing over his glasses and feigning offence. “That’s where you’re wrong. It is a life-or-death situation.”

A tender laugh escaped her.

God, he loved that sound.

“I just can’t seem to do you justice,” he sighed, setting his sketchpad down.

Pushing himself up from where he sat, he climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he moved closer, one knee pressing into the sheets between her legs.

“You’re impossible to draw,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, softer. “My artistic prowess just doesn’t match your beauty.”

Jimin tilted her head against the pillow to meet his eyes, her lips curving faintly. “What a convenient excuse. I think you’re just lazy.”

“Maybe,” he hummed, small smile playing at his lips. His fingertips traced absent patterns against her bare ankle beneath the sheet. “Or maybe you’re just too distracting.”

He studied her for a long moment — properly taking her in — and that familiar expression crossed his face again. One filled with quiet mischief and something warmer beneath it.

“You’re staring,” she whispered.

“Nice of you to notice.”

His hand began to slide higher — slow, deliberate, purposeful. Both of them very aware of each movement, eyes locked, neither of them able to look away.

She swallowed, feeling the tension growing, but trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “You were supposed to be drawing.”

“I’ve decided it’s time for a change of mediums.”

A breathy laugh fell from her lips. The sound made him smile, instinctive rather than forced.

God, he looked so handsome like this, in a way that was almost unfair.

His dark hair, messy and untamed, had fallen into his eyes from running his hands through it all evening, his glasses slightly crooked on his nose. Hands stained with ink smudges. But most of all, the look in his eyes, the way she could see how much he wanted her. Something about it felt unbearably intimate. It made her chest tighten with want.

His fingers — which had never stopped their steady climb up her body — settled at her waist beneath the sheets, flush against bare skin. Her breath caught — a small inhale that was almost imperceptible. To anybody else, maybe.

“There it is,” he said, smirking slightly, almost pleased with himself.

“What are you talking about?”

“That little breath you always make right before you stop pretending not to want me.”

Jimin rolled her eyes instinctively, but the flush across her chest betrayed her immediately, making his smirk even deeper.

Tired of words, Jimin pulled him down into a deep kiss, almost volcanic — pressure, heat, then complete ruin.

The kiss stole the breath from both of them instantly.

As if by instinct, his hands came up, one sliding into her hair, the other bracing against the mattress in an attempt to keep his weight off her as he kissed back with equal force. The sound of jazz and rain, once so prominent in the apartment, was now drowned out by the sound of their breaths.

Jimin could taste coffee on his tongue, faint traces of mint — him. Entirely him. The familiarity of it all made her ache even more.

The kiss became messy in the way only the most desperate kisses did. His glasses bumped softly against her cheek and she laughed breathlessly against his mouth, pulling them off and setting them on the bedside table. He didn’t even give her time to think before he was kissing her again, even deeper, if that was at all possible.

“You’re distracting me,” he murmured against her lips.

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“And yet you still keep doing it.”

Jimin slowly slid her hands up to his hair, lips still touching his as she gave it a sharp tug. A deep groan fell from his lips onto hers, making the warmth in her stomach bloom.

“There,” she whispered, echoing his earlier words. “That sound you make just before you stop pretending to be so composed.”

A deep laugh echoed around the room, sincere. She was right, his composure had long since left his body. It might have never been there to begin with, not when she looked like this beneath him. Swollen lips, her normally milky white skin flushed and hot. The sheets tangled in her legs like she was just begging to be ruined. How could anyone remain composed?

He barely had time to react before she shifted against him. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she rolled them over, leaving herself sitting on his lap. With her chest bare and the warmth of her legs pressed against him, he began to breathe a little heavier.

“You know what your problem is?” she whispered, delicate fingers undoing the buttons on the shirt he was wearing.

“Hm?”

“You seem to think teasing is an art form.”

“It is when you’re as good at it as I am.”

She rolled her eyes again, but it dissolved into a soft gasp when his mouth found her nipple instead, sucking and nibbling slowly. Warmth flared beneath each touch, the rise and fall of her chest becoming quicker and quicker.

His mouth lingered there deliberately, unhurried, like he enjoyed drawing every soft sound from her one at a time. Each slow movement of his lips sent electricity pulsing through her body. Her breathing became increasingly uneven no matter how hard she tried to steady it.

“You’re impossible,” she whispered weakly, fingers threading through his hair again.

A quiet laugh left him against her skin, the vibration of it making her shiver.

The storm outside had grown much heavier, the rain streaking down the glass in trembling rivers. A darkness had overtaken the sky, and the rain blurred the city lights beyond into soft smears of gold and white. The music still drifted quietly through the apartment, though distant now, swallowed by the muffled moans coming from Jimin.

He finally lifted his head just enough to look at her again.

Want.

Affection.