Archive of Our Own

The night before the Idol Awards, it rains torrentially.

Fat droplets patter against the large windows of Rumi’s bedroom. She usually enjoys a thunderstorm, but not when she lives in a mostly-glass penthouse. The wind whips at the side of the building relentlessly, making a spray of raindrops hit her balcony windows in succession. She knows she’s safe, but it’s a little unnerving.

The night prior, Rumi left her impromptu meeting with Jinu feeling light and weightless. With a plan set and an end in sight, she could finally focus on herself and her team. She did just that today, making a plan with the girls and practicing their performance from their dorm in comfort before tomorrow’s big performance.

Now, she sits swaddled in the plush weight of her comforter. After showering off the post dance practice yuck, she bundled her hair in a towel and put on her most comfortable pajama shorts. It’s just her tonight- as far as she can tell, the other girls have already migrated back to their own rooms and won’t bother her. Nights like these are the only time Rumi can wear whatever she wants; she cherishes them.

A large bowl of popcorn sits at the foot of her bed and the TV has been paused on the Netflix select screen for twenty minutes. Rumi lets out a tired sigh, clicking the remote button onto another row of shows she kind of wants to watch, but mostly doesn’t. She flops her arms down in mild defeat, letting the sound of a nature documentary’s trailer fill her room as it autoplays from the select menu.

A loud tapping sound suddenly emanates from her balcony window. Rumi jumps, looking toward the drawn curtains. It hasn’t rained like this in a long while.

She settles back into her blanket cocoon and clicks over to a random anime series she’s never heard of. She’ll watch anything at this point.

A piece of popcorn nearly flies out of her mouth as an even louder series of taps hits the window. What on earth?

Rumi gently sets the large bowl down and unwraps herself from the thick blanket. She can barely hear her own footsteps over the sound of the pouring rain. She pads over to the entrance of the balcony carefully, one hand poised to summon her sword at a moment’s notice.

Quickly, Rumi’s hand darts out and grasps the thick fabric of the curtain. She rips it open to reveal-

“Whuh- Jinu?” Rumi gasps at the sight of the man outside her window; the soggy picture of defeat. Jinu stands on her balcony with his shoulders hunched. He’s soaked head to toe and his normally perfect hair plastered to his forehead with rainwater.

Rumi must’ve been standing shocked for a moment too long, because Jinu thumps his forehead solidly against the door. His breath fogs up the glass as he looks at Rumi with pleading eyes.

“Can I come in…” Jinu’s voice sounds a little shameful muffled through the door.

Rumi just nods, gripping the handle of the sliding door and pulling to let Jinu into her room. He looks even more pitiful when he steps inside.

“Jinu- you’re soaked, what’s going on?” Rumi squeaks.

She stares at the puddle forming beneath Jinu and quickly reaches up to unwrap the towel from around her damp hair. It falls down her back uncomfortably and she tosses the towel to Jinu. He catches it easily with one hand, bringing it up to his own head to sop up some of the moisture clinging to his face. Rumi quickly runs to her bathroom to grab a larger bath towel and throws that in Jinu’s direction as well.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, quickly towelling off the water from his torso the best he can.

Rumi watches him curiously. He perplexes her. Jinu appears so perfect and confident from the exterior, but moments like these remind her he was once human. She wonders how many other people get to see him make mistakes; see him get caught in the rain. He looks kind of silly- far from the perfect idol image he’s tried so hard to maintain.

Rumi tries not to make her intake of breath obvious when she realizes Jinu has stopped drying off his jeans and is staring right back at her.

Unease builds within Rumi as she regards her own state of undress. She can feel the weight of Jinu’s eyes on her. He knows about her patterns; he’s seen them, but Rumi never hangs around other people with them visible. She knows it poses no threat, but the idea of Jinu seeing her in such a vulnerable state makes her skin crawl.

“I’ve never seen you in a t-shirt before…” Jinu comments, his eyes trailing from Rumi’s wrists to her collarbones, following each line that covers her skin.

“Yeah- obviously.” Rumi’s voice is hurt, her brows furrowing as she moves her hands up to cover her markings self-conciously. Jinu’s face instantly falls.

“I didn’t mean-” He holds a hand up, gently touching his cold fingertips to the back of Rumi’s hand. “It’s a good thing. I was going to say you looked beautiful.”

Rumi’s mouth opens and then closes, her face feeling warm. She hates how charming he is.

“Flattery won’t excuse the puddle on my floor. What are you even doing here? It’s pouring, not to mention it’s late. Shouldn’t you be home resting before the main event tomorrow?” Rumi pointedly looks behind him at the storm outside.

“Ah…” Jinu grows sheepish. “That’s… kind of why I’m here.”

Rumi raises an eyebrow when he doesn’t elaborate.

“I’d be surprised if what once was my home still existed 400 years later.” Jinu looks down. “The only place I stay when I’m not on business is with everyone else down there. Not sure I’d call that place home, though.” He sighs.

“Oh…” Rumi frowns. She should’ve realized, now she feels like the pill.

“Um. I was hoping you’d let me stay- just until the storm is over. I won’t bother you, I just can’t take another night down there when we’re so close.” Jinu looks her in the eye. “And… I wanted to see you one more time. Just in case.”

Rumi swears she sees his eyes twinkle when he asks. She sighs.

“You can stay. As long as Mira and Zoey don’t know you’ve been here. And take off your shoes!” Rumi gently kicks the side of his wet shoe with her socked foot.

Jinu huffs out a small laugh, but obeys regardless. He toes off his wet sneakers close to the sliding glass door and folds both of the towels Rumi threw at him.

How could she have possibly said no? Jinu looks like a stray cat, brought to her doorstep by the promise of warmth. She can’t recall a time where he looked as down-on-his-luck as he does now. While she’s a little mad he disrupted her night, the pity outweighs any other decision she could think of making.

“By any chance you wouldn’t um… have something I could wear, would you?” Jinu grimaces, plucking the wet fabric of his too-skinny jeans from his thigh. Rumi smiles deviously.

“I just so happen to have the perfect thing!” She exclaims with overdone cheer. Rumi moves to the other side of the room and opens a drawer low to the ground. From it, she pulls the pair of teddy bear choo-choo train pajamas she almost threw out and holds them up like a trophy.

“I should’ve seen that coming.” Jinu rolls his eyes lightheartedly, taking them from her grasp.

“The bathroom is over- hey!” Rumi exclaims as Jinu starts to strip in the middle of her room. He shucks his wet hoodie over his head and drops it onto the floor near his shoes, not bothering to fold it like he did with Rumi’s towels.

“Jinu!” Rumi squeaks, turning around abruptly when Jinu lifts the hem of his damp t-shirt up and over his head.

Rumi’s cheeks glow red when she hears a zipper from behind her. She stalks back to her bed, pretending whatever going on near her bedroom window is just a bad dream.

After a moment, the rustling stops and Rumi can feel his presence approach behind her. When she finally steels her nerves enough to turn around, Rumi can’t decide whether to drool or laugh.

Jinu is devastatingly gorgeous. He stands tall in his shirtless glory, the defined muscles in his chest and abdomen glinting with remaining rainwater. It’s a shame he’s wearing too-small pajama pants that don’t go past his shins- he was almost sexy.

Rumi drags her eyes away from his abs and snorts out a laugh, failing to stifle it in time.

“I think you should wear those on stage tomorrow.” Rumi bites her lip as a small laugh bubbles out.

“Wouldn’t that be distracting for you?” Jinu asks, his tone teasing.

Rumi huffs, choosing not to run her mouth any more than she already has. Instead, she takes a step over to her closet and pulls an oversized zip-up sweatshirt from the row of hanging clothes. It’s big on her, so it should fit Jinu as intended. She removes the hanger and holds it out to him.

“...So you don’t get cold.” Rumi says after a too-long pause. Jinu smiles knowingly, but luckily takes the sweatshirt without a word and slips it on, zipping it up about half-way.

Ugh. Fine- as much as Rumi doesn’t want to inflate his ego by admitting it, he is a little distracting. She distances herself, flopping back down on her soft comforter with a bounce. Rumi locates the clicker from within the labyrinth of blanket folds and clicks resume on her paused show. She’s hardly invested, but the quiet noise fills the space and makes her feel less anxious.

She looks over at Jinu who stands awkwardly near the side of her bed.

“Are you… gonna come sit?” Rumi raises an eyebrow, patting the empty spot next to her on her large mattress. When Jinu came in, he seemed intent on not bothering Rumi, but she’s no monster. He can watch TV and eat popcorn as long as he behaves himself.

“Oh.” Jinu moves toward her bed like the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Oh, wait!” Rumi exclaims. “Can you grab my hairbrush for me first? It’s over on my shelf.” She points toward a cosmetic organizer near the TV. Jinu nods, grabbing it quickly and handing it over to Rumi as he climbs onto the bed beside her.

He sits politely, a respectful distance from Rumi, criss-cross-applesauce with his hands folded in his lap. Sometimes Rumi doesn’t understand how such a man could possibly be a demon when he looks like he does now; soft and vulnerable.

“What are you watching?” Jinu eyes the screen curiously. He squints at the brightly colored characters, trying to follow any semblance of plot, but there is little to be had. Rumi wasn’t really paying attention before, this show looks like it’s for kids.

“I dunno, I just put on whatever before you scared the shit out of me on my balcony.” Rumi notes, holding the clicker up to her TV to go back to the menu select. She hands it to Jinu, letting him pick what to watch. He stares at it a little blankly, before slowly navigating the menu, watching every 15-second preview in the row.

“Have you seen any of these?” Rumi questions.

“No. Don’t exactly have TV in the demon realm.”

“Not even cable?” Rumi jokes, nudging his arm with her elbow. He half-laughs, before clicking on an animated cartoon about tigers.

“Biased.” Rumi mumbles under her breath. Jinu turns to her.

“Want me to brush your hair?” He asks out of nowhere.

“What? You don’t have to, I was going to do it.” Rumi feels her face grow warm. Is he serious? Her hair is still damp from the shower, laying flat down her back. Her hair is so long; it usually takes Rumi a long time to brush it all out and re-style it after a shower. She almost always appears in public with her signature braid- it feels weird that Jinu has seen her hair down now, too.

“Let me- I interrupted your relaxation time. It’s the least I could do.” Jinu reasons, looking all too persuading with his sweatshirt half unzipped and his hair drying into cute natural waves.

“Uh- kay, just don’t tug too hard, it’s still wet.” Rumi shrugs, tossing him the brush and scooting up on her bed to be in front of Jinu.

Jinu meets her in the middle, unfolding his legs to rest next to Rumi on either side. He reaches forward, gently moving Rumi’s long hair backward and separating it into two sections.

He leans back with the brush in hand, starting to gently comb her hair from the ends up. Rumi tries not to ever let her hair get too tangled. Keeping it so long is a challenge, especially when she needs to have it styled 95% of the time. She always takes the time to work out any knots.

It doesn’t take Jinu long to get to the hair near Rumi’s neck. He brushes her hair around her ear, scraping the rounded bristles through her scalp repeatedly. Rumi lets out a small sigh at the relaxing feeling.

“I’m surprised you know what you’re doing.” Rumi notes.

“I used to do it for my mother; my sister.” Jinu speaks softly. Rumi has noticed that often times his tone goes sour when speaking of his family. Not tonight, though. Tonight there’s only fondness.

“Their hair wasn’t as long as yours, though. Not nearly as purple either.” Rumi can hear the teasing smile in his voice. Rumi snorts.

Jinu finishes combing one side, and moves onto the next, flipping the brushed-out side over the front of Rumi’s shoulder. He works a little slower, taking his time with each stroke of the brush.

“Why do you keep your hair so long? I feel like it would drive me nuts.” Jinu asks, working out a small knot as he talks.

“My mother wore her hair this way. One long braid.” Rumi speaks. “Or at least that’s what Celine told me.”

“Do you like it this way? Or are you just doing it to please her?” Jinu murmurs, closer to her ear now.

“No, I like it. It connects me to her.” Rumi’s voice softens. “Although… I wouldn’t mind trying some new styles here and there.”

“Like what?” Rumi can hear a smile tint his voice.

“I think… bubble braids are really cute- oh! Maybe twintails?” Rumi thinks out loud, Jinu humming behind her.

“How about french braids?” Jinu asks, working the brush through the last section of her scalp.

“That could be cute, hard to do by myself though. Mira usually helps me do my normal style.” Rumi eats a handful of popcorn.

“Let me give it a shot. Do you have any elastics?” Jinu leans over to look at her bedside table.

“You know how to braid?”

“Of course I do.” Jinu responds, not elaborating any further. He reaches over and grabs a spare hair-tie laying on Rumi’s nightstand, slipping around his wrist to use later. Jinu looks over Rumi’s shoulder, suddenly much closer than before. He grabs her hand.

“What-” Rumi is confused, but she then understands as the hair tie on her wrist is removed by Jinu. While she is distracted, his other hand curves around her side to steal a handful of popcorn from the large bowl.

Jinu sits back and begins to section her hair.

“I saw that, y’know.” She grumbles, not actually mad. Jinu just shushes her as he starts to work.

Rumi twitches as his knuckles brush the back of her neck, taking one half of her hair and starting to braid. Jinu sits up on his knees so he can reach the hair near the front of her head, separating it into three sections so the braid trails from her temple. He works at an even pace and the repetitive feeling is soothing to Rumi.

Jinu’s fingers brush against her scalp softly as he adds new strands to the braid, deftly weaving them between his fingertips. He pulls gently to make sure the braid is tight, but it doesn’t hurt Rumi at all. She can tell he’s being especially gentle. It’s sweet.

Once he’s past the nape of her neck it goes a lot faster, as there’s no extra hair to weave in. Jinu finishes off the first braid and slides one of the elastics off his wrist, looping it tight to secure the style. Rumi reaches up to feel the finished side with her fingertips, touching over the bumps curiously.

She hears Jinu crack his knuckles from behind her, before he’s kneeling again to start the other side. This time, his body presses flush against Rumi’s back. Rumi tries her best to hide her slight shiver from the unexpected contact. She can feel the warmth radiating off of his body and hands.

“The rain let up.” Jinu mumbles from above her while he works. Now that he mentions it, Rumi notices. It’s still raining, but not nearly as heavily as before. The night sky looks endless and dark from the window. Rumi hums in response.

“Afraid I’m gonna kick you out?”

“No, because I know you wouldn’t.” Jinu says. Rumi can practically hear his smug expression. She huffs, picking up the TV remote.

“This show you picked sucks.” She changes the subject, reaching out to turn off the TV.

“Hey!” Jinu sounds offended. He holds Rumi’s almost-finished braid with one hand and reaches over her shoulder with the other to grab the remote.

“Wha- Hey!” She exclaims as Jinu grabs the remote from her hand and tosses it behind the two of them. Rumi tries to turn around, but the hold on her braid stops her as her hair starts to pull.

The second Jinu snaps the elastic onto her braid, Rumi turns around and lunges over Jinu’s knee to grab the remote.

“Rumi!” Jinu exclaims, digging around in the blankets to find it before her.

It quickly turns into a game.

Rumi finds the remote first, grabbing it with force and emerging with false victory, but doesn’t hold onto it long before Jinu stumbles forward on her bed and nearly yanks it out of her hand.

“No!” Rumi squeals out between bouts of laughter, diving forward into Jinu’s lap as he holds it up out of Rumi’s reach. Rumi grapples at the sleeve of his (her) sweatshirt, trying to pull his arm down. Jinu lets out a devious giggle before Rumi’s hands are firmly planted on his chest, pushing him over onto Rumi’s pillows with an oof.

She climbs over him, probably kneeing him somewhere in the process, and grabs his wrist, yanking the clicker back. Rumi huffs, turning over her shoulder to press the off button while her other hand pins Jinu’s wrist against her pillow.

The sound of the TV show cuts off abruptly, leaving only the gentle pitter patter of raindrops and the sound of their heavy breathing. Rumi turns back slowly as her eyes adjust to the dim space.

Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like a game anymore.

Jinu gazes up at her in a way that could only be described as charged. Rumi blinks in surprise at his spellbound expression. His pupils are blown in the darkness, making his gaze feel even stronger than before. The tension is thick between them; almost palpable with the lack of distraction from the TV.

Rumi has never had a boy in her room. Bobby doesn’t count. She considers it her sacred space. Mira and Zoey come by occasionally, but the living room is their designated “hang-out spot”. The girls understand that Rumi values her privacy and alone time and respect it as best they can. She thought Jinu invading her room, her bed, her popcorn! would irritate her, but now she doesn’t want it any other way.

Maybe it’s the rain, maybe it’s Jinu’s warmth underneath her, but Rumi feels so incredibly safe. She wants to lock the door and stay here for as long as they can. Rumi wants to pretend tomorrow won’t arrive, and that they can be with each other like this forever; like Jinu’s not the one thing she sought to destroy. If Jinu’s gaze is anything to go off of, he feels the same.

“What’s wrong, distracted?” Rumi speaks low, catching Jinu’s heavy gaze and shattering the tension held thick between them.

Rumi swears she sees a flash of purple before Jinu’s unpinned hand pulls her down by her neck into a heated kiss.

It’s electric.

Weeks of words unspoken and actions untaken pour themselves into their first kiss. Jinu tastes like rain and kisses like the storm. It’s passionate- Rumi gives it her all despite her limited experience, and Jinu seemingly has no complaint in guiding her. Their lips separate for a moment with a soft smack as Jinu’s hand cups her cheek, brushing his thumb over Rumi’s cheekbone.

“Sorry.” Jinu murmurs, losing himself in Rumi’s features. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Please, don’t apologize.” Rumi snorts, rolling her eyes sarcastically. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that since like last week.”

Jinu’s eyebrow quirks at her admission.

“For real?” Jinu questions, brushing a loose piece of hair from Rumi’s braid behind her ear.

“For real.” Rumi lowers herself onto Jinu so they’re fully touching, laying on top of him chest-to-chest.

Jinu’s large hands find Rumi’s waist, dipping underneath the hem of her t-shirt to touch her skin directly. Her breath hitches in a way she hopes is unnoticeable.

“What are you doing?” Rumi asks as his grip tightens.

“Making up for lost time.” Jinu smiles, and suddenly Rumi is on her back. She gasps as Jinu quickly flips their orientation. As soon as her head hits the pillow, Jinu’s mouth is on hers, kissing her just as passionately as the first.

Jinu smiles into the kiss as his warm hands crawl up Rumi’s sides. She squirms underneath him, ticklish!

It’s Jinu’s turn to gasp when his thumb brushes the bottom of Rumi’s breast. She’s not wearing a bra- why would she be? She expected to be home by herself binge watching TV. Jinu’s hand retreats back down to her stomach, feeling how her sensitive skin twitches under his touch.

For a demon, Rumi didn’t expect him to be such a gentleman. She should have known; Jinu is different from most demons. He’s soft in places you wouldn’t expect, empathetic in others. She can tell he’s holding back.

Rumi breaks from their kiss and finds the side of Jinu’s jaw with her lips. As she places a wet kiss there, her hand finds Jinu’s and slides it up her body to rest in the middle of her chest, giving him the illusion of choice. Jinu makes a funny sound in the back of his throat and flattens his palm underneath Rumi’s.

Rumi arches into Jinu’s touch, nudging his palm higher until his fingers graze the swell of her breast. A shiver runs through her as his thumb drags over her breast, landing on her nipple. She smirks against his jaw as he finally touches her.

“Thought you were being polite,” she teases, breath hitching when Jinu gently squeezes her breast in his palm.

“Didn’t wanna scare you off.” Jinu turns his head to catch her eye, a golden glare shining off his pupils in the dim light.

“Although… you don’t seem scared at all.” Jinu muses before pinching Rumi’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Eager, even.” he finishes.

The unexpected bite of it wrings a moan from Rumi, her hips lifting instinctively against Jinu’s thigh which is tucked tightly between her legs. When did that get there?

Rumi’s touch must’ve triggered… something within Jinu; his demeanor is quickly changing from awkward yet sweet to intimidating and hungry. Rumi’s not intimidated, no, not at all. Jinu’s fiery gaze gives her the same thrill she gets while fighting; like this is what Rumi is made for. Fighting and sex aren’t… that far off, are they?

Jinu chuckles low in his throat, rolling Rumi’s nipple between his fingers—just hard enough to make her thighs clench around his leg. “I bet you’re already wet,” he murmurs, shifting his thigh deliberately against her. The pressure is maddening, just shy of where she craves it.

Rumi grits her teeth but doesn’t give him the satisfaction of another moan. Not yet. “Confident assumption,” she fires back, though her breath betrays her, coming faster now. “You’re not exactly unaffected either.” Rumi pushes her knee upwards slightly to brush against the half-hard length straining the fabric of Jinu’s silly pajama pants. Jinu hums, his hips twitching involuntarily at Rumi’s touch.

Rumi rolls her hips against his thigh, deliberately this time, almost as if saying get on with it!

His breath catches when Rumi’s knee presses harder, savoring the way his cock jumps under the thin fabric. Jinu’s grip on her breast tightens reflexively, thumb circling her nipple in slow, deliberate strokes. "Hard to stay unaffected when you look like that." he rasps, voice rough.

“Jinu…” Rumi gasps at his words as she rocks down against his thigh again, letting the friction tease them both. The heat between her legs is undeniable now, dampness seeping through her underwear.

His free hand slides down her side, fingers splaying over the curve of her waist before dipping lower. "I could check." he offers, dragging his palm down her stomach and hooking a finger underneath her waistband. "See if I was right."

Her muscles tense, anticipation coiling tight in her stomach. "Or… you could stop talking and get on with it." Rumi speaks with false frustration. It’s hard to not outwardly show how much she loves his teasing.

“But you like when I talk.” Jinu almost growls. His hooked finger pulls down Rumi’s shorts briskly, leaving her underwear exposed. His knuckles brush the soaked fabric between her legs, and Rumi can’t suppress the jerk of her hips this time- chasing the contact.

"You really like it." he taunts, looking at the wet patch on her underwear. His fingers are already hooking under the waistband of her panties, peeling them off before Rumi can think of a comeback.

Jinu’s fingers glide over Rumi’s bare skin, his touch deliberate as he maps the heat between her thighs. A sharp inhale escapes her when his fingertips drag through her slick folds, testing, teasing. His smirk darkens at the sound. “Yeah,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Just like I thought.”

Rumi arches into his hand, biting back a moan as his fingers circle her clit—slow, maddening. "Jinu-" His name comes out half-plea, half-warning, but he only hums in response, pressing his thigh harder against her in retaliation. For obvious reasons, Rumi has never been touched like this by anyone else. Jinu’s fingers are so much different than hers. So much better.

"You sound so pretty saying my name." Jinu teases, dipping a finger inside her just to feel her clench around him.

"Fuck you," she gasps, but the curse lacks heat- especially when his thumb replaces his fingers, rubbing tight circles that make her legs shake.

Jinu leans in, nipping at her jaw. "I was planning on it, you want it that bad?" His free hand fists in her hair, tilting her head back as he kisses her- deep and possessive, swallowing the sounds she can’t hold back anymore. His attitude reminds her of when they first met; all too cocky and sure of himself.

When he pulls away, his gaze drops between her legs, watching his fingers work her. "Look at you," Jinu mutters, dragging his wet fingers up to her clit again. "So fucking pretty."

Rumi’s nails dig into Jinu’s shoulder as his fingers move with precision, each stroke sending waves of heat curling up her spine. She grinds against his hand, chasing the pressure, but he pulls back just enough to keep her teetering on the edge- always just shy of what she needs.

A breathless sound escapes her when his free hand touches her chin, tilting her head up towards him. "Look at me." Jinu speaks, voice rough with arousal. His eyes shine gold for a moment, refracting the dim light of the room in ways Rumi hasn’t seen before. He’s still holding back- fighting his inner demon that’s no doubt scratching to be let loose. Rumi wonders if she looks the same. Jinu’s thumb presses harder against her clit as she obeys, her hips stuttering under his touch.

She doesn’t have to ask- his fingers work her just right, just enough, until her thighs tremble. But when his mouth crashes against hers, swallowing her moans, Rumi decides she needs more.

With a sharp push, she rolls him onto his back, straddling his hips. The hard length of him strains against his pajama pants, and she doesn’t hesitate- she hooks her fingers into the waistband, pulling them down in one smooth motion.

Jinu’s cock springs free, thick and flushed, and Rumi can’t help the quiet exhale that escapes her. If this was any other day, Rumi would’ve remarked on how stupid he looks with his too-small choo-choo train pants bunched up around his dick, but she is incredibly impatient and can’t stand to delay any longer. Jinu’s breath hitches as her fingers wrap around him, stroking once, twice, before she lines him up beneath her.

"Have you ever…” Jinu doesn’t finish his thought, but he doesn’t need to. Rumi understands. Even now, inches away from victory, Jinu is only thinking of her. It makes Rumi’s heart soar.

“No.” Rumi answers honestly, trailing a finger up the sparse hair leading towards Jinu’s bellybutton. She watches his abs twitch under her light touch. “But I wouldn’t be concerned about my level of practice.” Rumi pointedly eyes her bedside drawer, hoping Jinu will understand. He pauses for a moment, then his eyebrows raise and a small noise leaves his throat at Rumi’s implication.

Jinu’s hands suddenly tighten on her waist and he pulls her down, brushing the tip of his cock against Rumi’s wet heat for the first time. She feels dull pleasure ripple across her skin like rain as she sinks down, taking him in slowly, inch by inch. It’s a bit of a stretch, but when she finally settles flush against his hips, they both groan.

Jinu’s gaze is locked on where they’re joined, his jaw clenched. "Fuck." he breathes, fingers flexing against her skin.

Rumi rolls her hips experimentally, testing the angle, and the way his cock drags inside her has her gasping.

"Move." he rasps. “Please.” Jinu adds last minute.

Rumi moves.

She rises slowly, savoring the delicious stretch, then sinks back down with a sharp exhale. The friction is exquisite- every ridge of him dragging against her inner walls in a way that makes her thighs shake. She sets a rhythm, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles, watching the way Jinu’s breath stutters beneath her.

His hands slide up her sides and under her thin t-shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts before gripping her waist again, guiding her pace. "Beautiful." he murmurs, voice rough. Jinu’s fingers dig in just shy of painful, urging her faster.

She obeys, lifting herself higher before dropping down harder, the slap of skin filling the room. A choked moan escapes Jinu when she clenches around him, and his head falls back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut.

Rumi leans forward, bracing her hands on his chest, letting gravity take over as she rides him. Her braids fall over her shoulder with the movement, brushing Jinu’s chest with every bounce. She can feel the tension coiling tighter in her belly, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside her with every thrust.

Jinu’s hands slide down to grip her ass, fingers pressing into the soft flesh as he meets her movements, driving deeper. “Close…” he grits out, hips jerking up into her.

Rumi shakes her head, biting her lip. “Not yet.” Slowing her pace, she grinds down, keeping him buried deep. She wants to feel this- wants to savor the moment his control snaps.

His groan is half frustration, half pure need. “Rumi, please-”

She cuts him off with a kiss, swallowing his protests as her hips slow even further, barely lifting from his cock. Every time Jinu’s hips thrust up to meet her, she backs away, not giving him the satisfaction he craves.

Suddenly, Jinu lets out a sound like a growl. He grabs Rumi by the hips and lifts her off. Rumi doesn’t get the chance to remark on the sudden empty feeling, because Jinu roughly flips them over, grabbing the backs of her knees to position himself at her entrance.

“Jinu!” Rumi squeals as he pushes in, thrusting with a punishing pace that pushes her into the sheets.

She grips the pillow behind her head as Jinu takes control, fucking her how he sees fit. Rumi gasps as she truly looks at him. Every thrust sends a ripple of color to the patterns on his skin. They glow faintly purple in the darkness, shining like a pulse whenever Jinu pushes into her as deep as he’ll go. Fuck, are her patterns doing the same?

Jinu’s thrusts grow erratic, his muscles taut as he drives into her, his patterns flaring brighter with each snap of his hips like lightning across his skin. The sight alone is enough to send another pulse of heat curling through Rumi’s core. She arches beneath him, desperate for more friction to bring her over the edge.

“Touch yourself,” he rasps, voice wrecked. His hand slides between them, thumb finding her clit in swift, rough circles.

Rumi gasps, her thighs trembling as pleasure coils tighter, spiraling toward the edge. She reaches a trembling hand towards Jinu’s to touch herself, lacing their fingers together above where his cock drills into her. Jinu’s cock fills her perfectly, the stretch bordering on too much, but she craves it, meeting every thrust with a roll of her hips.

Jinu’s breath hitches, his rhythm faltering. “Fuck- I can’t-”

“Jinu- please.” Rumi pants, tightening around him, dragging him deeper.

Jinu’s groan is inhumanly raw as his hips stutter, spilling into her with a shudder. The pulse of his release sends Rumi over the edge, her back arching as waves of pleasure crash through her. She clings to him, breathless, as the glowing patterns on their skin flare one last time before fading into slower dimmer pulses.

Jinu collapses against her, still panting, lips brushing her collarbone. “Fuck,” he murmurs, voice rough with satisfaction.

Rumi hums in agreement. Well said.

A deep wave of sleepiness washes over Rumi as Jinu rolls off her and gets up, presumably to walk to the bathroom.

Rumi blinks slowly as she feels a warm washcloth brush against her, cleaning gently and wiping away Jinu’s release that still clings to her thighs.

She is no help as Jinu slides a clean pair of pajama shorts over her legs, giggling as he lightly swats the side of her thigh to get her to cooperate.

Her room is quiet; hushed as the two of them sleepily clean up spilled popcorn and tuck Rumi’s fitted sheet back underneath her mattress.

As soon as her bed is in a better state, Rumi flops down, thoroughly exhausted. Jinu follows shortly after, pulling the tall curtain closed and bathing Rumi’s bedroom in complete darkness.

Jinu’s footfall matches the gentle raindrops. Well. Until he stubs his toe in the darkness and swears, hobbling over to Rumi’s bed and dipping the mattress under his weight. She tries her best to stifle her laughter, but Jinu apparently hears all and silences her with a kiss.

Rumi expected to feel only warmth, but it’s unexpectedly… bittersweet. She wishes things were different; wishes she didn’t have to hide her true self, to hide how she feels about Jinu. When tomorrow comes, will they still have to pretend?

Jinu pulls back from their kiss and throws an arm over Rumi’s waist, snuggling her from behind.

“Get some sleep. We’re gonna need it.” Jinu murmurs, kissing the side of her head.

Rumi hums, shuffling back to be as close as possible. The last thing she remembers before drifting off is the feeling of Jinu’s nose tucked against her neck, safe and warm.

-

When tomorrow comes, Jinu is nowhere to be seen.

Rumi jolts at the sound of her alarm, blearily rubbing her eyes to see the snooze button.

She rolls over and meets only the empty space Jinu occupied last night. There’s no trace of warmth- he must’ve left a while ago.

Rumi frowns, burying her face into the pillow to groan loudly. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, it really couldn’t be any other way. They both knew things couldn’t stay like they were last night for forever, but it still makes Rumi’s heart ache.

She reaches over to her nightstand and cancels the snooze alarm on her phone, standing up and stretching with several mildly-concerning pops. Rumi squints down at her phone, eyeing a crumpled piece of paper that certainly wasn’t there last night.

She picks it up in its sorry state, only to realize it’s one of Jinu’s overly-cute memo cards, partially damaged from last night’s rain. She unfolds it slowly, reading the words scrawled inside.

Sorry I couldn’t stay longer. Duty calls.

Good luck tonight.

– Jinu

Rumi lets a small sad smile reach her face as she finishes reading and tucks the notecard into her pocket. Duty calls.