First Light

The first thing I woke to was warmth.

Not the oppressive heat of Jeju's summer sun - that would come later - but that intoxicating warmth of Yeji's body pressed against mine. My eyes cracked open to the pre-dawn glow filtering through the master bedroom's sheer curtains, casting everything in soft blues and grays.

The villa was silent except for the distant crash of waves and Yeji's steady breathing. Management had rented this place as a reward - a week-long escape following their latest world tour, somewhere the girls could decompress away from cameras and schedules. Private beach access, infinity pool, enough bedrooms that everyone could spread out. The kind of luxury that came with exhausting success.

What management didn't account for was what five young women in their twenties would actually do with that much privacy and freedom.

I'd arrived late last night - past midnight - after the rest of ITZY had gone to bed. Yeji had been waiting by the side entrance, dressed in an oversized hoodie and tiny sleep shorts, her finger pressed to her lips in a conspiratorial "shh" gesture. She'd pulled me inside quickly, her eyes darting toward the other bedrooms.

"They've been asking questions," she'd whispered as we crept upstairs. "Yuna keeps teasing me about having a 'secret boyfriend.' Ryujin's making bets on whether we're dating. It's annoying."

"Are we?" I'd asked, half-joking, and she'd punched my arm.

"You know what we are," she'd said, but her tone was softer than her words. "I just... I don't like them speculating about you. You're mine. They don't need to know the details."

We'd fooled around for a bit when we got to her room - lazy, tired kissing that tasted like the wine she'd been drinking earlier, her hands wandering under my shirt while I palmed her ass through those shorts. But exhaustion won out. We'd stripped down to minimal clothing - her in just panties, me in boxers - and collapsed into bed, her back to my chest, my arm draped over her waist.

Now, hours later, I was acutely aware of every point of contact between us.

Yeji was still asleep, her breathing deep and even. We'd shifted during the night - she was still on her side facing away from me, but my body was molded to hers like we were puzzle pieces designed to fit. My morning wood pressed insistently against the curve of her ass, separated only by thin cotton. My hand rested on her flat stomach, feeling the rise and fall of each breath. Her skin was impossibly soft, still slightly warm and carrying the faint scent of her perfume mixed with something uniquely her.

I shifted slightly, and she made a small, unconscious sound - not quite a moan, but close. Her ass pressed back against me, and I bit back a groan.

Easy, I told myself. Let her sleep.

But my hand had other ideas. It started moving on its own, fingers tracing lazy circles on her stomach, gradually drifting upward. Her abs were defined even in rest, the product of countless hours of dance practice. I traced each ridge, feeling her muscles twitch slightly under my touch.

My fingers reached the underside of her breasts - she'd gone braless to sleep - and I paused, waiting to see if she'd wake. Nothing. Just that steady breathing, maybe a fraction shallower now.

I cupped her breast gently, feeling the weight of it in my palm. Yeji's tits weren't large - perky B-cups that fit perfectly in my hands - but they were incredibly sensitive. Her nipple hardened immediately under my touch, a tight little bud that begged to be pinched.

I obliged, rolling it gently between my thumb and forefinger.

"Mmm..." This time the sound was definite, her body arching slightly into my touch. But her eyes stayed closed, her breathing still regular. Half-asleep, maybe, or pretending.

Emboldened, I pressed my hips forward, grinding my cock against her ass while my hand worked her breast. My other arm slid under her neck, allowing me to nuzzle into her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo - something floral and expensive.

"Yeji," I murmured against her ear, my voice rough with sleep and arousal. "You awake?"

"Mmm... no," she mumbled, but I felt her push back against me, a deliberate roll of her hips. "Still sleeping."

"Liar," I whispered, and bit down gently on her earlobe.

She gasped, her whole body shuddering. "Minho..."

My hand left her breast and slid down, over her taut stomach, to the waistband of her panties. I paused there, fingers playing with the elastic.

"Can I?" I asked, my lips still against her ear.

"You're asking now?" she breathed, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "After you've already been groping me?"

"Consent is sexy," I replied, and she laughed - a low, husky sound that went straight to my cock.

"You already know the answer, idiot," she said, her hips rolling back against my hand. "Don't make me say it."

I slid my hand into her panties, and fuck - she was already wet. Not just damp, but properly slick, her pussy lips parted and ready. My fingers found her clit immediately, that sensitive little pearl already swollen, and she whimpered when I made contact.

"Someone's eager," I teased, circling her clit with gentle pressure.

"Shut up," she gasped, her hips bucking into my hand. "You woke me up by - ahh - by feeling me up. What did you expect?"

"This," I said simply, and slid two fingers inside her.

She was tight - despite her reputation, despite all the industry names she fucked, her pussy always felt like it was trying to memorize every ridge of my fingers. Her walls clenched around them, hot and wet and absolutely perfect, drawing me deeper like she never wanted to let go. I pumped slowly, curling my fingers to hit that spot on her front wall that made her see stars.

"Fuck," she hissed, her hand reaching back to grip my hip, nails digging in. "If you're going to do it, do it properly. Don't half-ass it."

"Who's half-assing?" I asked, adding a third finger, curling them deliberately. The stretch made her gasp, her thighs clamping around my hand. "I'm being thorough."

"I've had - ahh - better."

"Liar."

"Prove me - fuck - prove me wrong then."

She twisted her head to look at me over her shoulder, her cat-like eyes challenging even through the lust. "You woke me up like this. So you better finish what you started."

"So demanding," I murmured, but I was already pulling my hand free, bringing my slick fingers to her mouth. She sucked them clean without hesitation, her tongue swirling around each digit, and the sight nearly made me cum right there in my boxers.

"Now?" she demanded breathlessly. "Do you know how long it's been? Six months of tour, three weeks since I was at your apartment and that was -" She bit her lip, frustrated. "Just fuck me. Properly this time."

I yanked my boxers down just enough to free my cock, the tip already leaking precum. With my other hand, I pulled her panties aside - not off, just aside - exposing her glistening pussy.

I lined myself up, pressing just the head against her entrance - that perfect ring of resistance, silky-tight and already slick. Her breath caught, and I felt her try to push back, to take me in, but I held her hip firm.

"You said properly, right?" I murmured against her ear, pushing in just the tip. Just the first inch, letting her feel the stretch. "Want to make sure I do this right."

"Minho -" Her voice was strained, needy. Her pussy clenched around just my head, trying to pull me deeper, and fuck - the grip was incredible even at this angle.

"What?" I pulled back, teasing her entrance with shallow pressure. Not quite in, not quite out. "Use your words."

I felt her nails dig into my thigh, her whole body tensing with frustration. I pushed in again - shallow, maybe two inches - then pulled back before she could adjust. Her hips rolled, trying to take more, but I kept my grip on her waist, controlling the depth.

"Stop - just -" She gasped, and I could hear her control fracturing. "Fuck me. All of it. Now."

"Now?" I asked, finally positioning myself properly, tip pressed right where she needed me.

"Yes - fucking - now -"