Tulle

She is the one.

That was the sole thought on your mind as you watched her grace the stage for one last time tonight.

Minju smiled as she held her microphone, “And that was our wonderful 2025 KBS Gayo Daechukje! Thank you so much to all the amazing artists and to you, our beloved viewers! Good night!”

Her co-host added his closing remarks, but your eyes were locked on her in that dress. The green dress was made up of layers upon layers of tulle, making it look like cascading water every time she moved. She was stunning, shining brightly as she owned the stage. Crazy to think how two nights ago this was the same woman that was curled up to you on the couch, super stressed out as she went over her cue cards.

The show wrapped up and the auditorium lights flickered on. The co-host shared a quick, friendly hug with Minju, you could see her shoulders relax and her smile become gentler. As she was making her way off the stage, it was clear she was searching for you, her gaze sweeping over the audience. You were sitting in the fifth row, to the left, just like you promised you'd be.

Her eyes met yours.

For a brief moment, her poise faltered. Her face brightened, and she made sure you caught her giving the smallest nod towards the side of the stage before she exited.

You moved with the throng heading towards the exits, then broke off, making your way to the “Staff Only” corridor that Yunah had texted you about earlier. A security guard glanced at your lanyard and waved you through. The backstage area was a mix of organized chaos, how were you going to find her with all these people around?

You walked down a long, brightly lit corridor lined with doors. At the far end, you finally caught sight of her. Minju was listening closely to a woman in a headset, nodding along. As the woman continued speaking, Minju’s eyes found you again. Without moving her head, she lifted her hand and subtly pointed two fingers at a door to your left before returning her full focus to the production staffer.

You opened the door and walked into a small dressing room. A lit mirror surrounded by bulbs, a rack of spare outfits, a small couch against the wall. The air smelled of hairspray and faint perfume. You decided to lean against the edge of the vanity with the large bouquet of white lilies and roses that suddenly felt conspicuous in your hands.

You waited there for what was maybe three minutes, but to you it felt like an eternity as you heard laughter and hurried footsteps pass the door. Finally it swung open and Minju slipped inside, quickly shutting it behind her, leaning back against it letting out a long, noticeable sigh.

“Hey babe,” she said.

The television glamour was still there, but up close, you could see the fine sheen of sweat at her temples, the slight smudging of eyeliner at the corner of one eye. Her chest rose and fell with deep, steadying breaths.

You pushed off the vanity and crossed the room, holding out the bouquet. “Hi honey, these are for you.”

She glanced at the flowers, then back at you, her smile bright. Taking the bouquet, she inhaled the scent of the blooms.

“They’re beautiful! How was it? From out there? Was it… was I okay?”

"Minju, you were amazing. You are amazing. I’m so incredibly proud of you that I could burst."

She let out a little shaky laugh, placing the flowers gently on a nearby chair. "I felt my hands shaking during the first few minutes. I thought the microphone was going to slip right out of my grip."

"It didn’t show at all. Not even for a second." You reached out, brushing a stray hair behind her ear and letting your thumb trail down her jawline. "And this dress… my god."

Her eyes locked onto yours. "You like it?"

"It's not fair. You're already the most stunning woman in any room. And then you wear this? No one else stands a chance."

A slight blush crept onto her cheeks. "The stylist unnies spent hours on this. I just stood there while they worked their magic."

Your hand gently cradled her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin. "They did an incredible job, you truly lit up the entire building."

She leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When she looked back up at you, the anxious energy had faded. "I kept searching for you. I finally spotted your silhouette during Kazuha-unnie's cover stage. It helped a lot."

"I promised I'd be there."

"I know." Her hands found their way to your chest with the layers of tulle from her dress brushing against your legs. "Thanks for being here. And for the flowers, they really are amazing."

Leaning down, you rested your forehead on hers. “Just as amazing as you did hosting a major end of the year festival for the first time.”

"And now it’s over and I’m just… me. And you’re right here."

"I’m right here."

Her lips met yours. It was gentle, a slow embrace of warmth. Her mouth had a hint of lip gloss, sweet and waxy. Your hands moved from her face to the back of her neck, fingers getting lost in the cool silk of her hair. Her arms wrapped around your shoulders, drawing you in closer. Her tongue traced the line of your lips, and you opened up for her, the slow, familiar rhythm feeling like a return home after the show.

After a bit, you pulled away, both of you breathing a bit faster. You rested your lips on her temple. "You must be wiped out."

"I am," she whispered against your neck. "But also… buzzing. My mind is still racing a thousand kilometers an hour."

“I can fix that.” You kissed her forehead. “When you’re done here, I’ll be outside in the car. We’ll go back to my place. I’ll fill up the bath for you and I’ll even put those ridiculous bath salts you like in there too. You can stay in there as long as you like in the peace and quiet so you can decompress.”

She pulled back to look at you, her eyes searching your face. “Your place?”

“Unless you want to go back to the dorm. With the girls who will definitely want to talk to you about the show for the rest of the night.”

She made a face. “Tomorrow. I love them, but… tomorrow. Your place. Please.”

“Your wish is my command, host-nim.”

She swatted your arm lightly. “Don’t call me that.” But she was smiling. “I have to do the post show photos with the production team. And change. It might be thirty minutes.”

“I’ll wait. Take your time.”

She gave you one more quick, firm kiss.

“Okay. Go. I’ll text you when I’m heading to the exit where no one else will see me getting into your car.”

You squeezed her hand, picked up the bouquet and handed it back to her, then slipped out of the dressing room. The hallway was still busy. You kept your head down, walking back the way you came.

It was freezing outside, it seemed like it could snow any second as you walked to your car in the private lot. You started the engine and turned on the seat warmers, making the car nice and cozy. While you waited, you watched a constant flow of staff and performers exiting through the private door, making their way to their waiting vans.

Twenty-five minutes later, your phone vibrated.

Minju 😍

Coming out now. ❤️

Just as you finished reading the text, she stepped out into the chilly air with one of her managers by her side. She looked tiny, completely buried in a massive, puffy black coat with a beanie tugged all the way down over her hair. In her arms, she was juggling a big tote bag and your bouquet, which was now neatly wrapped in paper. She shared a quick word with her manager, gave a polite little bow, and then her eyes started searching the parking lot. The moment she spotted your car, her face seemed to light up, and she broke into a brisk walk straight towards you.

Being the gentleman you are, you didn't hesitate, hopping out of the car to open the passenger door for her, taking the heavy tote bag from her arms and tossing it into the back seat. She melted into the warmth of the car, letting out a long, heavy sigh of pure relief. After shutting the door to seal out the cold, you jogged back around the hood and settled into the driver's seat beside her.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” She pulled off the beanie, shaking out her long hair. She unzipped the puffy coat. Underneath, she wore simple black jeans and a oversized gray sweatshirt. The television host was gone, replaced by the Minju you knew.

You reached over, your hand finding hers on the center console. Her fingers were so cold. Lacing your fingers through them, you lifted her hand to the vent. “All done?”

“All done.” She squeezed your hand. “Now I’m officially off the clock.”

You lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “Then let’s get out of here.”

The drive across Seoul was quiet, hardly anyone on the road. The city lights streaked across the windows. She leaned her head against the seat, watching the streets go by, her thumb absently stroking the back of your hand where it held hers.

“It’s strange,” she said after a while, “you spend months preparing for one night. Every word, every segment, every change of outfit timed to the second. And then it’s just… over. Done.”

“How do you feel?” you asked.

She was quiet for a block. “Well my brain has finally stopped buzzing and it’s thankfully a lot quieter. And… I’m hungry. I was too nervous to eat much today.”

“I figured. There’s food for you at my place.”

She turned her head to look at you. The passing streetlights illuminated her face in intermittent flashes. “You cooked?”

“I ordered some takeout from that Chinese-Korean fusion place you like. I put it on the warming tray so we can eat as soon as we get back if you want.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“That's impossible.”

You pulled into the underground parking of your building. Your apartment, paid for by the long hours and monotony of your finance job, was pretty high up. The elevator ride was quiet, just the two of you. She leaned her head on your shoulder, her body warm along your side.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open, reaching in to flip on the lights. The apartment was a finance bro's dream (you being the finance bro), a view of the city skyline through floor to ceiling windows, filled with mid-century modern furniture, and an open floor plan.

You stepped inside, holding the door for her. She walked in, you took the bouquet as she shrugged out of the huge coat, letting it fall onto the entryway bench. Taking a few steps into the living room, she spent a few seconds looking out at the city. You quickly took the flowers to the kitchen to put them in some water and then took her tote bag to the bedroom.

Walking back into the living room, you came up behind her and just stood close, seeing her reflection in the dark glass.

“Welcome home honey.”

She turned around. The nervous host, the tired idol, the woman in the sweatshirt, they all seemed to settle into one person.

Just Minju.

“It’s nice and quiet here.”

“We can be as loud or as quiet as you want it to be.”

A small smile. “Quiet is good.”

You reached out, hooking a finger in the belt loop of her jeans, gently tugging her closer. She came willingly, her hands resting on your hips.

“So. The plan. Food first? Or bath first?”

She pretended to consider, tilting her head. “The bath sounds amazing. But I am really hungry.”

“Food first then since you are starving. The bath can wait.”

“Mmm.” She swayed into you, her body melting into yours. “Or… we could just stand here for a minute.”

“We could do that, too.”

You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into a proper hug. As she buried her face into your chest, her arms tightened around your back. You held her, feeling her slowly let go of the last traces of the night’s stress.

After a long while, you felt her move. Minju leaned back just enough to look up at you. “I’m really glad you were there tonight.”

“There’s nowhere else I would have been.”

She lifted a hand, her fingers tracing the line of your brow, then down your cheek to your lips.

“You said a lot of very nice things to me backstage.”

“I meant all of them.”

“I know.” Her thumb swept over your bottom lip. “It makes me want to…”

“Want to what?”

Instead of answering, she rose up on her toes and kissed you. This kiss was different from the one in the dressing room. There was no chance of being caught here. It was slow, deep, and passionate. Her mouth opened under yours. A soft sound escaped her throat as you kissed her back, your hands sliding down to the small of her back to pull her closer.

The kiss broke, but she didn’t pull away. She kept her forehead against yours, her breath mingling with yours. “I want to stay right here,” she whispered. “Like this. For a while.”

“We have all night.”

“I know.” Minju kissed you again, this time a series of smaller, softer kisses along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your hands tightened on her back. “The food will get cold,” she whispered against your skin, her tone not sounding the least bit concerned.

“It’s on the warming tray. It’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Her lips found yours again, and the kiss deepened once more. One of her hands slid up from your hip, over your chest, to curl around the back of your neck, her fingers threading into your hair. The other hand slipped under the hem of your shirt.

You guided her backwards, taking your time, until the back of her legs hit the wide arm of the couch. She gasped softly in surprise as she lost her balance, falling onto the plush cushions and pulling you down with her. You managed to catch yourself on your arms, hovering just above her. Minju gazed up at you, her hair spread out against the dark fabric, her lips slightly parted and swollen from your kisses. Her chest rose and fell gently.

“Hey,” she said again, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Hey,” you replied, lowering yourself to kiss her once more. This time, when your bodies met, there was no mistaking the shift in the air. Her legs shifted, one bending at the knee, her thigh pressing against your hip.

Your tongue slid into her mouth, meeting hers, causing warmth deep in your stomach. One of your hands found its way to her cheek, your thumb caressing her cheekbone while your other hand glided down to the curve of her waist.

Minju arched into the touch. Her hands were occupied, one still tangled in your hair while the other began to play with the hem of your shirt. She pulled it upward. "This is in the way," she murmured between kisses.

"Well me take care of that," leaning back just enough to rise onto your knees and pull the shirt off over your head, tossing it aside. Her eyes roamed over your chest, her face reflecting pure desire. She reached up, her fingers tracing the outline of your collarbone, moving down over your pecs.

“Now it's my turn,” you said.

Your hands went to the hem of her sweatshirt. You looked at her, a question in your eyes. She held your gaze and gave a single, small nod. You gathered the soft fabric and began to pull it up. She lifted her arms, helping you. The sweatshirt came off, joining your shirt on the floor.

She was wearing a simple, sleeveless white cami underneath. You drank in the sight, the reality of her here, in your home, like this.

“You’re staring.”

“Tough not to.”

A blush spread across her chest, visible even in the soft light. She sat up slightly, propping herself on her elbows, bringing her face closer to yours. “Come back here.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. You leaned down, but instead of kissing her mouth, you pressed your lips to the base of her throat. She inhaled sharply. You kissed a slow trail along her collarbone, your hands coming up to cradle her shoulders. Her skin tasted faintly of salt and her perfume.

Your lips traveled to the slope of her shoulder, then slowly back up her neck. Minju tilted her head, giving you better access, a low hum of pleasure vibrating in her chest. Her nails lightly scraped their way down your back.

You found her mouth again, the kiss turning hungry, messy as you pressed her into the couch. She welcomed it, her legs opening up so you could settle between them.

Liftoff.

You rocked your hips, just once, a slow, grind against the denim covering her. The friction was intense, even through the layers.

“Ah.” The sound was punched out of her. Her eyes flew open, locking with yours, her hands on your back clenching.

“You okay?” you breathed, pausing.

Minju nodded, smirking. “More than okay.” She rocked her own hips up to meet yours. “Just… like that. For just a little bit.”

So you did. You kissed her while your bodies moved together in a slow, building rhythm. The hard line of your erection pressed against the fly of your jeans, grinding between her thighs. The stimulation from the fabric, way too much fabric if you're being honest, the heat and pressure, was insane. Each roll of your hips drew another soft, gasping breath from her, each one music to your ears.

Minju's hands were everywhere, in your hair, on your neck, sliding down to grip your biceps. She broke the kiss, panting, her head falling back against the cushion. Her eyes were closed, her lips parting. You took the opportunity to kiss down her neck again, to the neckline of her cami. Nuzzling the soft fabric aside with your nose, your lips found the perfect curve of her breast above the fabric’s edge. You kissed there, then gently bit down, not hard, just enough pressure to make her gasp again and arch sharply beneath you.

“Yes,” her hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, holding you there.

You loved her like this. When she would make those sounds, a small reward every time. You continued to move against her, the pace increasing slightly, driven by the ragged sound of her breathing and the pleasure growing ever larger within your core.

This was the edge, the delicious, agonizing edge of what was safe for now. She still wants to take a bath and eat, right? You were negotiating like you were back at work, but with yourself. The food can wait a little longer.

One of your hands slid down from her shoulder coming to rest on her ribs, your thumb brushing the lower curve of her breast. She shuddered. Yeah, you're making the right call. Emboldened, you let your hand slide lower down to the waistband of her jeans. Your fingers dipping beneath it, just an inch, finding the warm skin of her lower abdomen. She was so hot to the touch.

Minju's eyes snapped open. She caught your wrist, not to pull it away, but to hold it there, her grip tight.

“Wait. Just… wait.”

Freezing in place, you held your body still above hers. Your heart hammered against your ribs, searching her face. “Okay,” your own voice ragged. “We wait.”

Leaving the inside of her waistband, you brought you hand back up to rest safely on her hip. The grinding stopped, just holding yourself against her, letting your breathing get back to normal. She was doing the same, her chest rising and falling rapidly under the thin cotton.

After a moment, she loosened her grip on your wrist and brought your hand up to her lips, kissing your knuckles, then pressed your palm against her cheek. She looked up at you, her expression softening to something more tender, more awed.

“If we don’t stop that right now I won't ever get in the bath and the food is going to burn.”

“The food’s not going to burn,” you said with a smile on your face.

“You know what I mean.” Minju shifted under you, a clear signal. You rolled off her, coming to lie on your side next to her. She turned to face you, her head propped on her hand, reaching out and tracing the line of your eyebrow again.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” you finished for her.

“I think I want that bath now. And then the food. And then… we’ll see.”

“The bath it is.”

You stood, offering her your hand. She took it and you pulled her up to her feet. She swayed for a second, then steadied herself, a small smile on her face. She glanced down at her rumpled cami, then at your bare chest.

“You should put your shirt back on or I’ll get distracted.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“The bath,” she said, pointing at you, trying to be stern but failing miserably. “Priorities.”

You laughed and picked up your shirt, pulling it on. You picked up her sweatshirt and handed it to her. The oversized fabric swallowed her up again, hiding the tantalizing glimpse of the cami. The transformation back to cozy Minju was almost comical, but the look in her eyes betrayed her.

“Come on,” as you took her hand. “Let’s get that bath ready.”

You led her from the living room, past the kitchen with the scent of the Chinese-Korean food teasing you, and down the hallway towards the bathroom.

The free-standing tub stood like a sculpture against a backdrop of slate tiles. You turned on the faucet, the water rushing out hot and loud. Steam began to curl in the air.

Minju stood by the vanity, watching you. She had shed her sweatshirt and jeans already. Now she wore just the white cami and a pair of simple, black panties. Her long hair was loose, framing her face. You're seriously the luckiest guy in the world.

“Which ones?” you asked, holding up two glass jars from the shelf above the tub. One contained crystalline lavender salts, the other a pink, rose scented powder.

“The pink one, I like the way it smells like a garden.”

You sprinkled a generous amount into the swirling water. How much do people usually put in? The scent of roses bloomed immediately, sweet and subtle. Adjusting the taps, you made sure the temperature was just right.

“It’s ready,” you said, turning off the water. The bath was full, a cloudy, pink hued pool. “Your throne awaits.”

Minju smiled and walked towards the tub, her bare feet silent on the cool floor.

“Are you going to stay in here?”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

You nodded, stepping back to give her space. Hooking her thumbs under the straps of her cami, she pulled it slowly up over her head. The fabric slid away, revealing her bare shoulders, the smooth slope of her back. She let the cami fall to the floor. Then her hands went to her panties, peeling the black fabric down those thighs you knew so well, dropping them to the floor. The only thing left on her was the simple silver necklace you gifted her that she always wore.

You watched, not as a voyeur, but as a lover. Her body was a known map, the slim lines, the toned muscles from countless dance rehearsals, the curve of her breasts. Seeing her now, after the night’s event, felt different. It felt like a gift.

The water’s steam made her skin glow. Holding your gaze for a moment, she stepped into the tub. She sank down slowly, the hot water enveloping her. She leaned back, letting her head rest against the curved edge and closed her eyes. A long, contented sigh escaped her lips.

“Oh, that’s perfect.”

You pulled the low wooden stool from beside the vanity and set it next to the tub. You sat down, close enough that your knee brushed the porcelain. The rose-scented steam rose around her, clinging to her damp skin. Her hair, the ends already wet, draped over the edge of the tub.

“You’re just going to watch me?”

“I’m going to enjoy watching you enjoy yourself.”

She laughed. Shifting in the water, she turned slightly so she could reach the bottles you’d set on a small tray beside the tub. She poured a dollop of the wash into her palm and began to smooth it over her arms, her shoulders. Taking her time with it, she treated her routine like a calming ritual. The suds slid over her skin, catching the light.

You reached out and picked up a washcloth from the stack. Dipping it in the water, you held it out to her. “Want me to get your back?”

She glanced at the cloth, then at your face. She nodded. “Please.”

Leaning forward, she presented her back to you. The water sloshed gently. You laid the warm, wet cloth against her spine and began to move it slowly up and down. The texture of the cloth against her skin, the heat of the water, the scent of roses, it was so simple but sensual at the same time. You followed the contours of her shoulder blades and the curve of her waist as she softly hummed, her head bowing forward.

“You’re so good at this.”

“At washing your back?”

“At… taking care of me. After a day like today. It’s not just the bath. It’s the flowers. Ordering food. Sitting here with me.” She paused. “Not rushing.”

“There’s nothing to rush toward. You’re already here.”

She sat back again, turning to face you. The water level dropped, revealing the tops of her breasts, the pink bubbles clinging to her skin.

Leaning forward, you rested your elbows on the edge of the tub. Her wet, warm fingers slipped into yours, lacing together as she held on tight.

“You know when you were on stage during that ballad segment when the lights went blue... you had a moment where you just vibed to the singer. You weren’t smiling for the camera. You were just… vibing. I thought, That’s her. That’s the woman I get to hold. The woman I get to love. It was the most beautiful thing I saw all night.”

Her eyes glistened. She squeezed your hand and brought it to her lips kissing your knuckles, one by one. "I love you." Then she let go and sat back, sinking deeper into the water. “Keep saying things like that to me while I wash up.”

So you did. You talked about small things, the traffic to the venue, the crazy situation at the florist when you picked up the bouquet, the ridiculous bath salts you’d bought because she’d mentioned them once months ago. It was tough to keep thinking of things to talk about as you watched her wash her legs, her stomach, her breasts.

When she was finished washing herself, she sat for a while, soaking. Her skin was flushed pink from the heat. Her eyes were almost closed, relaxed. You watched the way her breath moved her chest, the way her wet hair clung to her neck.

“My mind feels like it has finally stopped.”

“Good.”

“But my body wants more of what we did on the couch.” She opened her eyes wide, looking at you.

That simmer from the couch definitely hadn't cooled down. The way her fingers started to trace patterns on her thigh under the water and how she looked into your gaze gave you all the signals you needed.

“What can I do to help?”

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she leaned back, resting her head against the side, her body open to you. Stretching her legs out under the water, she let one arm drape over the edge, near your stool. Her other hand rested on her own stomach, just below the waterline.

“Talk to me,” she whispered. “And touch me.”

Moving the stool closer so you were directly behind her, you looked down at her body submerged in the cloudy, pink water. The shape of her, the curves obscured by bubbles was like a painting. Hovering your hand for a moment, you reached out and placed it on her shoulder, your palm flat against her wet, warm skin. She sighed, a sound of pure tranquility.

You kept talking, your words gentle and meandering, as your hand began to move. You stroked her shoulder, tracing the line of her collarbone as you recalled the first time you saw her perform. The way she moved with the music. Your hand slid down to her chest, lightly massaging her.

She was listening, but her breathing had changed. It was deeper, slower. Her hand, which had been resting on her stomach, began to move, her fingers drifting lower, over her abdomen, through the water, to the top of her thigh. They didn’t linger there, they continued their path.

Inward.

You kept your touch on the curve of her breast as your other hand joined, both now smoothing over her skin, from her shoulders down to the waterline at her waist. You talked about the special moments, the coffee shop at dawn, the walk along the Han River when the city was asleep. The moment when you truly fell in love with her.

Under the water, her own hand had found its destination. You couldn’t see clearly, but you could see the movement, the water rippling slightly with her motion. A soft, shaky breath escaped her.

Your hands on her stilled. You simply held her, your palms warm on her skin, as she touched herself. You watched the way her head tilted back, the way her lips parted.

“Keep talking.”

The words were coming right by her ear. “You’re so beautiful like this, all the lights, all the cameras… they never see this. They never see you when you’re just wanting, needing. It’s mine. This sight is mine. You are mine.”

Her breath caught, the underwater hand moving faster under the water, the ripples growing more pronounced. A tremor ran through her body, from her shoulders down to her legs, her toes curling against the far end of the tub.

You leaned closer. “Let go. Let it all out. The night, the tension, the stress… let it go here.”

Her free hand suddenly grabbed your wrist. She yanked your hand forward, guiding it into the warm water, between her legs. The water was hot, silky with the bath salts. Her skin was even hotter. You felt the soft, smooth, swollen folds. She held your wrist firmly, positioning your fingers exactly where she wanted them.

“Here.”

No further instruction was needed. Your fingers, now under her direction, began to move. Exploring gently at first, you traced the contours you knew so well. She shuddered, her back arched.

She released your wrist, trusting you now. Her own hand came up to grip your forearm, her nails digging lightly into your skin. Holding onto you as your fingers found her clit, circling it slowly, then adding more pressure.

You kept talking, your words now sweet nothings. “Just feel it… let it build… you’re so warm… so perfect…”

“Ah! Right there… yes, like that…” Her hips began to move, a slow, rhythmic rocking against your hand. The water sloshed around her, lapping against the sides of the tub.

You adjusted your touch, following the cues of her body. You slipped two fingers inside her, she was so wet and tight, her inner muscles clenching around your fingers immediately.

“Oh… oh god…” she choked out, her head pressing back against the tub’s edge. Her grip on your forearm tightened, her nails digging deeper.

You moved your fingers inside her, a slow, curling motion, while your thumb continued to work her clit. You watched her face, her neck straining, her mouth open. Her eyes were closed, but her eyebrows were drawn together in intense concentration.

“Don’t stop. Please… don’t stop…”

You didn’t. You were relentless. You felt her body tightening around your fingers, her internal rhythm becoming frantic. The breaths turned into pants. The water began to vibrate as she began to shake. The fingernails digging into your forearm were almost painful now.

You leaned even closer, your lips now against her damp hair. “Cum for me Minju. Let it go. Right fucking here. For me.”

Her body arched and a sound ripped from her throat, a raw cry of release. Her inner muscles clamped down on your fingers. Her whole body shook, the water churning around her. Her grip on your arm went from painful to clinging, as if she might float away without it.

You held her through it, your fingers still moving inside her, gentle now as the waves peaked and then began to subside. The cries softened into deep, shuddering sighs. Her body slumped back into the water, boneless. The hand on your arm loosened and fell back into the water.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of the water settling and her ragged breathing. You slowly withdrew your hand from her body, out of the water, your fingers were warm, slick. You brought your hand up and held hers.

She didn’t speak for a full minute. She just breathed, her chest rising and falling under the pink bubbles. Finally, she opened her eyes, hazy and unfocused. She slowly looked over at you, looking completely at peace.

“Wow.”

You smiled, stroking her shoulder. “Yeah.”

She shifted in the water, turning her body to face you again. The movement was slow. Reaching out, her hand found your cheek. Her touch was tender, grateful. “I love you so much."

“I love you too.”

She let her hand drop, splashing back into the water. She looked at you, a new glint in her eye. “I’m not getting out.”

“The food…”

“The food can wait, I’m not done.” She sank lower in the water, until her shoulders were submerged. She gestured with a finger. “Come closer.”

You moved the stool forward until your knees were against the tub. You leaned over the edge, your face close to hers.

She reached up, her wet hand cupping your jaw. “You gave me something. Now I want to give you something.” She stared straight into your eyes with a smirk on her lips. “Take off your clothes.”

Your breath stalled for a second. Then you nodded. You stood up from the stool pulling off your shirt off, then your jeans, your underwear. The cool air of the bathroom hitting your skin. The sight and feel of her climax left you intensely, painfully ready.

She looked at you, her eyes traveling slowly down your body and back up. “Sit,” she said, pointing to the stool.

You sat back down on the stool, now naked, knees were pressed against the cool porcelain of the tub. She was right in front of you, just soaking all of you in.

She didn’t get out. Instead, she moved within the water. Sitting up straighter, she brought herself closer to the edge where you sat. The water level dropped, revealing more of her body, her breasts now fully visible above the surface, water droplets clinging to her skin.

She placed her hands on the edge of the tub, on either side of your legs. Leaning forward, her face came close to yours. She kissed you, her tongue moved into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you.

When she broke the kiss, she didn’t pull back far. Those eyes stayed locked on yours. “Just sit there, let me.”

Her hands left the edge of the tub and found your thighs. Gripping them, she urged you to open your legs wider, to give her space. You complied, your heart hammering through your chest and into your ears.

Then she lowered her head. Her mouth, warm and wet from the bath, found the base of your shaft. She kissed you there, a soft, lingering press. Then her lips traveled upward, a slow, wet trail that left a line of heat and wetness. She took you into her mouth, slowly sinking lower and lower, deeper and deeper.

The sensation was immediate and overwhelming. Her mouth was incredible. She took it slow and gave it her full attention, not rushing a single bit. Moving her head back and forth with a steady rhythm, she swirled her tongue around you with each pass.

You couldn’t speak. You could only watch, your hands gripping the edge of the stool. Just breathe. She took you deeper, her throat accepting you without hesitation. A soft, wet sound echoed in the quiet room. Her hands, still on your thighs, squeezed gently, reassuringly.

She varied her pace, sometimes slow and deep, sometimes quicker and focused on the tip. She used her tongue in ways that made your back arch and melt. She would pull back almost completely, then lick a slow stripe from base to tip before taking you back in. It was messy and wet, in more ways than one. The water from her hair dripped onto your legs and the scent of roses filled your nostrils.

You reached out, your hand trembling, and touched her cheek. She paused, you still deep in her mouth, and looked up at you. Her eyes locked with yours as she began to move again, her pace increasing.

“Mhlmoog ahhg mhhe,” she garbled with you still in her mouth. “Dhohmmn't clahoose yhyhuur ahhys.”

The concentration in her face, the pleasure she took in the act, you had no choice but to keep your eyes open and look at her. You saw the way her lips stretched around you, the way her cheeks hollowed, the way her eyes never wavered from yours.

It was the most connecting thing you’d ever experienced.

Her rhythm became more urgent, her movements more deliberate. You were being worked towards the peak, and she knew exactly how. Her hands slid from your thighs to your hips, holding you steady as she took you deeper, faster. The wet, slick sounds filled the room, mixing with your own ragged breathing.

You felt the climax building, a pressure that became undeniable.

“Minju…” you managed to say, a warning, a plea.

She didn’t stop. She took you even deeper, you hit the back of her throat, her tongue doing some insane thing that sent a final, shattering wave of sensation through you.

You came with a force that shuddered through your entire body. Your vision blurred for a second, but you kept your eyes open, locked on hers. She swallowed, once, twice, a third time as her eyes closed briefly in concentration, then opened again to lock back onto yours. Her mouth stayed sealed around you until the last tremor subsided.

When it was over, she slowly, gently released you. She leaned back in the water, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, satisfied. She looked at you, your body still trembling with aftershocks.

“There, now we’re even.”

There were no words you could say. You were slumped on the stool, breathing heavily, your mind blank with release. You just stared at her in the tub.

Finally, you found your voice. “Not even, you’re clearly ahead.”

She smiled, sinking back into the water, stretching her arms out along the edges of the tub. “I’m ready to eat now,” she announced, her tone suddenly light and flirtatious. “After having that snack.”

You laughed, a shaky, breathless laugh. “You’re incredible.”

“I know,” she said, winking at you. “But I’m also wet and I need to get out of this tub before I turn into a prune. Help me?”

You stood up, your legs feeling a little like jello. You reached for a large, fluffy towel from the warmer rack and held it open.

She rose from the water, a vision of pink-streaked skin and dripping hair, stepping out of the tub. Water cascaded from her body, her skin glowing.

You wrapped the towel around her, enveloping her in its warmth. You began to dry her off, starting with her hair, blotting the long, black strands. Then you moved to her shoulders, her arms, her back. You knelt slightly to dry her legs, your touch gentle and thorough. She stood still, letting you, her hands resting on your shoulders as you worked.

When she was mostly dried off, you took a second, smaller towel and carefully dried her face, wiping away the last traces of bathwater and steam. She looked at you through the fabric, her eyes soft.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything. For the bath, for the towel, for drying me off.”

You finished drying her, then you wrapped the large towel around her like a robe, tucking it closed at the front. She was smiling, her eyes bright and her body relaxed. You pulled her into a warm embrace, a deep, satisfying calm filling the room.

The damp towel wrapped around her felt heavy and warm against your skin as you held her. Minju leaned into you, her forehead resting against your chest. The scent of roses clung to her.

“The food is probably getting cold by now,” you mumbled into her hair.

“It’s on the warming tray, it can wait a little longer,” she coyly responded.

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m not,” a slight tremor ran through her shoulders. “I’m just… savoring the moment.”

You kissed the top of her head. “Let’s get you dressed. Then we can savor the food.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at you. “You first.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You're wet from holding me. And you’re… you know.” She glanced down, then back up with a playful smirk. “You should put something on before we eat. It’s distracting.”

You laughed. “Right. Okay.”

Stepping away from her, you found your underwear and shirt and pulled them on quickly.

Minju was already pulling her own clothes from the bathroom floor. She dropped the large towel, standing naked for a moment, reaching for her cami. She slipped it over her head, the fabric settling against her skin. Then she picked up her black panties, stepped into them and pulled them up over her hips.

She caught you watching and smiled. “See? Not so distracting now.”

“You’re always distracting.”

She reached for your hand. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

You led her out of the bedroom, down the hall to your kitchen. On the large island sat the food you ordered on the warming tray. Hopefully still hot enough to eat. You opened the lids. Steam rose and the scent of garlic, ginger, and roasted meat bloomed into the air.

“It smells amazing.”

“Yes it does.” There were containers of jajangmyeon alongside sweet and sour chicken.

You fetched plates, utensils, and two glasses of water, setting them on the island. Minju hoisted herself onto one of the tall stools, crossing her legs. You sat opposite her.

After the long day she had you filled her plate with the noodles and chicken. You watched as she picked up her fork, twirling a bite of noodles. She took a mouthful, chewed slowly, and closed her eyes.

“Oh, that’s real good.”

After a few bites, she looked at you. “I feel bad for not asking how your day was. Before the show.”

"Don't worry about it, you're good. It was mostly just a revolving door of meetings in stuffy conference rooms. The usual fund manager posturing over quarterly projections, like any of us can predict market variables with a straight face." Your thumb traced the rim of your water glass absentmindedly. "But every time my phone vibrated, I’d grab it like some lovesick romantic. Scared I’d miss a notification from you."

She smirked, twirling another forkful of noodles. "Even during your director’s presentation?"

"Especially then." You leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin. "Sat in the back row pretending to take notes on my tablet. Had our texts open in a tiny window behind like five layers of spreadsheets. Nearly choked when my CEO asked me to clarify our hedge against..." you mimed flipping pages dramatically, "...whatever slide he was glaring at. Totally blanked."

A genuine laugh escaped her. "God, I wish I’d seen that. You, flustered." Her socked foot nudged your shin under the island. "And here I thought nothing could rattle you."

You captured her ankle between yours, holding it there. "Only you." The admission lingered between bites of sweet and sour chicken. "Spent all afternoon watching the clock crawl. Every time some VP droned on about liquidity ratios, I’d picture you backstage rehearsing your lines in that gorgeous dress. The way it flows when you walk. How the lights must’ve caught those sheer layers..."

Her chopsticks froze. Her eyes were wide and dark, filled with the moonlight from the window.

“Were you as nervous in the crowd as I was?”

“For you? Always. But you… you really were incredible.” You put your fork down. “When you introduced that rookie group and they were so shaky, you just leaned in and gave them that smile. The one that says, ‘Everything will be fine, don't worry and just go have fun.’ They relaxed immediately.”

She tilted her head. “You notice the small things.”

“I notice you.”

She set her fork down and reached across the island. Her hand found yours, her fingers lacing through yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Minju.”

As you two finished eating, you spent it talking about small things. The new song her group was rehearsing. The terrible coffee at your office. A movie you both wanted to watch.

When the plates were empty, you cleared them away. You turned to find her still sitting on the stool, watching you. She had a small, secret smile on her face.

“What?”

“I’m just looking at you. Being so domestic. It’s nice.”

“It’s boring.”

“It’s real. And after a night of cameras and scripts and ‘five minutes till segment three,’ real is the best thing in the world.”

You walked back to her, stopping beside her stool. You placed your hands on her knees. “What do you want to do now? We can watch that movie.”

She uncrossed her legs, letting them dangle. She hooked her ankles around your calves, pulling you closer. “I want to stay right here for a minute.”

You moved closer, your face nearly touching hers. "Alright."

She pressed her lips against yours, hands roamed, tongues danced together.

After a while, you broke the kiss, taking a deep breath of her. "You taste like black bean sauce."

She giggled.

Laughing against her lips, you kissed her again. Your hands slid from her knees up her thighs, cupping her hips, holding her steady on the stool as you kissed her harder. Her hands slid into your hair, tugging gently.

The kiss turned hotter, wetter, bodies pressing together on the island stool. She leaned back, pulling you with her by your hair, until you were both off-balance, supported only by your grip on each other.

“We should move,” you mumbled against her mouth.

“Why?”

“This stool is kind of wobbly, and I really don’t want you taking a spill!”

“I won’t fall. You’re holding me.”

She was right. You were, but things were definitely heating up.

You slid your hands up her sides, under the hem of her cami finding the warm skin of her waist, then the curve of her ribs. She shuddered, a small, pleased sound escaping her.

“See? Being domestic isn't boring.”

You kissed her neck, just below her ear. “I don't recall saying that.”

Your lips traveled down her neck, to the collar of her cami, feeling the pulse in her throat. She arched into you, her body pressing against yours. The stool creaked.

“Okay, maybe we should move.”

“Bedroom?” she asked.

“Bedroom.”

You walked together, making you way down the hall, stopping twice just to kiss against the wall, clothes hitting the floor.

When you reached the bedroom, you dimmed the lights. The bed was large and inviting. Minju went and hopped onto it.

Her finger beckoned you from the sheets.

“Come here my love.”