Archive of Our Own

It is quiet.

This is your third night at Jumin’s penthouse and, while glamorous, you can’t say you’ve gotten used to it yet. There’s the weight of an unspoken contract behind the luxuries provided to you, as if the slightest taste of fruit upon your lips will lead to an eternal entrapment.

But, to be honest, what makes you more nervous is knowing that right beside you - in the same bed - is Jumin. Granted, like a gentleman, he has opted to lie above the sheets and you’ve turned your back to him, but that thread of nervousness makes you feel restless. If you concentrate hard enough you can even feel the dip of the bed from where he is resting on the other side.

You contemplate briefly on asking him to read that fairy tale to you again to lull you to sleep, but you don’t want to wake him if he’s already asleep. The day’s events play through your mind and you know that Jumin hasn’t been getting any rest lately, having to struggle with his emotions and keep watch over you; in fact, it occurs to you that aside from this moment you’ve never seen him asleep. You are always the first to fall asleep and he is always awake before you’re awake.

But still, the quiet is loud and you don’t feel tired at all. You start to fiddle with your phone absently and, before you know it, your fingers have ghosted over a familiar button, speed dialing a certain number.

Panic and embarrassment hit you at the same time realization does, and you fumble to end the call. But before you can, Jumin answers.

“God…”

His words come out in a sigh and you can hear an echo as his voice comes out from the phone and from beside you on the other side of the bed.

You clear your throat to ask, “Why are you sighing?”

He just sighs again, “Why are you calling at this hour…? I told you to sleep…”

You squirm on the bed, feeling chastised.

“Oh…” He pauses, and then continues, “If you toss around like that then my patience will reach its limit. Please don’t move, and don’t fidget.”

For a second you hold still, not wanting to disturb him any more, but then a spark of mischief appears in your mind and you end up moving your phone - tucked against the pillow and your left ear - to your mouth to blow into it. “Can I blow wind like this?” Technically, you aren’t tossing around.

There is no response from Jumin and, in fact, a silence starts to stretch to the point where you’re about to turn around and call his name, afraid that your joke was in bad taste or that it flew over him, when you suddenly feel his weight shift, making the bed move, and then the space behind you sinks as a warm body settles just behind your back.

“… Should I break all my rules today? No, I shouldn’t,” a puff of air sweeps over the top of your head, “Dear, didn’t you learn that ears are very sensitive? You’ll know whether or not that’s okay if I do the same to you.”

His voice still echoes, coming through the phone in your left ear and entering your right ear from his lowered head. And then you feel - more than hear - him exhale, his breath caressing the shell of your ear. “How about it? Do you understand my struggle now?”

You tremble, feeling a tingling sensation dance down your spine as his breath continues to brush past your ear, and your embarrassment is at an all-time high knowing that there’s no chance he would have missed your reaction from how close he is to you.

“I got it… I won’t do it,” you tell him quietly.

“Your face is red. Do you have a fever? I tend to have a lower body temperature. You’d be the perfect temperature in my arms then…”

He puts an arm over you but, rather than pulling you into him, moves closer and presses himself up against you. You freeze, feeling the firm planes of his chest against your back. Like he said, his body temperature isn’t running particularly hot but you feel as if every part of you that is touching him is aflame with sensitivity; you are intimately aware of the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, and even with you being under the covers - and him above - there is no distance between the two of you, making it easy for you to feel the definition of his muscles.

“Um…” You try to pull away slightly, unable to calm down from how close he is.

But Jumin refuses to move his arm and continues to hold you close. “Too late to regret it. You’re the one who started it… Just hang up and look forward to it.” And then he’s moving, stretching over you to reach for your phone to take it out of your loose grip and throw off to the side. “Let’s hang up now. It’s only getting in the way.” His own phone follows seconds later.

The two phones hit the carpeted floor with a dull thump as you turn onto your back to look at Jumin; however, you end up questioning the wisdom of your actions when you end up seeing how close he is. He has settled himself just above you, caging you between both arms with his hands beside your head.

“Jumi–”

“Enough chitchat. Stay still.” His voice is quiet but there is an order laced through it as he leans down to kiss you.

It starts off slow. They always do. Jumin kisses you like he has all the time in the world to learn your shape, your taste, and your reactions. He kisses you like he wants to know all of you, from head to toe. Like he wants to catalog each and every one of your tics.

He shifts his weight onto one arm - also lowering himself to his forearms - in order to lift your chin with the other hand, tilting your head for a better angle. You shiver, dizziness settling over you along with a growing heat, when he draws your bottom lip into the wet warmth of his mouth, tracing its shape with his tongue.

He takes his time, not moving his head yet for a deeper kiss, and you can’t help but remember what he said before about wanting to master each step before moving on. But your thoughts are scattered when he nips at your lip, grazing it with his teeth, perhaps because he notices your slight distraction, before he soothes it with his tongue again and sucks.

You’re helpless beneath him, and a tension is coiling inside your body. You can’t decide if you’re hot or cold, feeling wracked by tremors but also feeling like you’re burning up. The only thing you can do is reach out unconsciously to grip at his half-buttoned shirt weakly, needing to anchor yourself to something.

When Jumin draws back, releasing your lips for a few seconds of precious air, you follow after him with a quiet whimper, wanting more. But the hand that he has on your chin slides down to settle against your throat - a gentle pressure that keeps you against the bed - and, before you can complain, he returns to kissing you, deeper this time.

He devours you.

The rhythm of his mouth against yours, the pressure of his lips, the feeling of his tongue, and how he completely surrounds you is intoxicating. And then his hand starts to caress your throat absently; his thumb draws small circles and when it brushes against the sensitive skin under your jaw, you shiver violently and arch into him, tearing your mouth away from his to gasp.

Jumin pauses, his nose grazing your cheek and his lips brushing the corner of your mouth with every hot breath that leaves him. From the hand he has on your throat, he can feel every leap and stutter of your pulse from his actions, and he makes a low contemplative noise in the back of his throat before turning his head to capture your mouth again.

This time he kisses you like he’s drawing something out of you. Like he is dying from thirst and you are his only oasis. He slides his hand higher to cup your cheek and angle your head, parting your mouth wider, and he makes sure to stroke that sweet spot that he had just discovered. The tension in your body has begun to shift into an ache and you clench your hands, crumpling and wrinkling a handful of his shirt. But you’re much too far gone to worry about that now. You can only think about how much you want for something.

But the kiss continues until you start to feel like your lungs are going to burst from a lack of air, and so you can only flatten your hands against his chest and push. By the time he pulls away, releasing your lips with a wet noise, there are tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

You suck in deep breaths, chest heaving, and then notice that the soft glow of light from the aquarium beside his bed provides you with just enough light to see the focus in his eyes. Like every atom of his attention is on you in this moment. Like he is burning you into his memory. There’s a faint flush across his face and his mouth is damp.

You feel your cheeks burn and you reflexively try to turn your head to break the eye contact, but the hand cupping your cheek moves down to hold your chin in a light but firm grip, stopping you from hiding your face. You quickly close your eyes, unable to withstand that look from him, but realize once you do that this might have made the situation worse.

It makes you feel like all your other senses have heightened. The only sound in the room, aside from the near inaudible hum of the aquarium, is the heavy breathing from the two of you, and that has become deafening. The feel of his fingers on your skin, the sheets wrapped around you, and the almost-there-but-not-quite weight of him over you is like an electric current through oversensitive nerves.

Suddenly, you feel something soft brush against your forehead lightly and you just barely manage to stop yourself from jerking away.

“Lovely,” Jumin murmurs.

“Beautiful.” Two kisses on top of your closed eyes.

“Divine.” One kiss on the nose.

“My princess,” these words are breathed out against your lips before he kisses you again.

You can’t breathe. Your mind is white noise. You feel like you’re burning up now and the blanket is suffocating. There’s too many layers. You want him closer. You feel like you need his weight on you to keep you grounded from the assault of all these sensations. Your legs, which had been pressed together, part.

Two things happen.

One, Jumin - being taken by surprise for once - slips into the cradle between your thighs. Two, as he does so, your knee brushes up against him.

You feel his hand on your chin spasm as he breaks the kiss and hisses, the air leaving him explosively. He then leans his forehead against yours, closes his eyes, and just… becomes still.

“Jumin?”

There is no response and you become uncomfortably aware of the insistent pressure against the inside of your thigh. Uncertainty rises in you the longer he remains quiet and you start to withdraw your hands, which had somehow ended up clutching at the back of his shirt, fingertips brushing the nape of his neck.

But then Jumin groans, almost sounding pained, “Don’t. move.”

He opens his eyes again and you didn’t know a color like grey could burn; at this range, you can see that his pupils are blown wide with desire and he is breathing heavily. He wets his lips with his tongue and then swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“… I told you that if I saw the tiniest opening I would try to own you completely. Princess, you are testing me right now… and I want to do this properly. I want to cherish you.”

He lifts himself up and moves off of you to sit at the edge of the bed but, as your hands slide off of him, you reach out and grab his hand, not wanting him to leave just quite yet. He automatically laces his fingers with yours and turns to look at you before bringing your hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it.

His lips brush against your skin as he murmurs, “If you continue to look at me like that… Dear, close your eyes and sleep.”