All The Colors Of You || Bang Chan

Chapter Twenty Nine - Perrie

If I learned anything about Chan in these past few weeks, it's this: He is always ready to surprise me.

Duke drives us across town until we enter an underground parking garage. Duke parks the car and grins at me in the rear view mirror.

"Have fun," he says and then winks, adding, "But not too much fun."

Chan groans and a tint of rose crawls up his neck all the way into his ears, but he grins nevertheless. We make our way out of the car. Chan carries my bag on top of his own as we make our way across the garage and into an elevator.

As soon as the door closes and I can feel the pull of the machine pushing up into the shaft, Chan's hands are on me. He takes my hands in between his and pulls me close.

"I'm so tired," he murmurs against my temple, pressing his lips against my skin, "I could fall asleep right here."

"Well, that does not surprise me at all, Mister Bang. You performed for more than three hours straight", I answer and wrap one arm around his middle, pressing myself against his body. I can't get enough of him, his shape so perfect against mine. I think I understand what an addict during withdrawal feels like.

The doors open into a very chic lobby. Soft golden lighting everywhere, dark furniture. A clean, shiny tiled floor and gigantic windows. Security men at every entrance, a woman in a suit behind the counter of the reception desk.

"Welcome to the Four Seasons Hotel. Can I help you with something this evening", she greeted us with a friendly smile on her lips. My eyes almost pop out of my head.

My hand finds Chan's biceps as he leans on the counter and says, "I have a reservation for the name Christopher Bang. We'd like to check in, please."

My hand squeezes and Chan grins with one side of his mouth, placing his free hand over my fingers around his arm. I square my shoulders, but I have never been in a place this fancy in my entire life. I feel so out of place, it's almost a physical sensation.

"Of course, I'll get that ready for you right away." The woman taps around on a smooth chrome tablet and then takes out two key cards from somewhere below the desk surface. "Your rooms are on level nine. Room 907. Room service and breakfast are included in the price already paid. Our concierge will bring up the bags for you, of course."

"That won't be necessary, we don't carry much baggage with us," Chan interrupts and the woman halts for a moment.

Then she shrugs slightly and continues, "If you need anything at all during your stay with us, feel free to call the front desk at any time. Please enjoy your stay, Mister Bang."

Then her eyes slide over to me and she tips her head towards me. "Mrs. Bang," she closes. I stiffen up like a peace of plywood. My entire head suddenly feels hot and I almost squeal. Chan chuckles and pulls me away from the desk, the two keycards in hand.

When we're back in the elevator, I wind myself out of his gentle grip and smack his chest. Chan is laughing, fully laughing, at this point. His shoulders shake and he holds a fist in front of his mouth as I keep hitting him half-heartedly. "I am so embarrassed, God," I whine, "I totally froze. Why would she say that?"

"Don't be embarrassed, baby," Chan catches my hands and pulls me close to press a kiss against my cheek, "I think it's really cute. I actually quite like the sound of it."

"Oh yeah?" I glance into his eyes, dark and warm. But before I can say anything further, the elevator doors open again and beg us to leave.

The room is gorgeous. Spacious and elegant, kept in cream colors. But the most breathtaking thing is the view out of the floor-length windows across from the bed – and the city's nightlife beyond them. A stream of glittering lights as far as my eyes can see.

Without turning on the lights, Chan drops our bags by the dresser and wraps his arms around my waist, his fingers pressing into my hips. As he stands behind me, his lips find my neck and his teeth graze my skin ever so gently. I shiver in his arms and let my head fall back against his shoulders. I hum and he answers in turn, breathing in deeply against my throat, as if he's trying to breathe me in.

When his fingers slip beneath my shirt and gently stroke the skin over my hipbone, I grin. I turn and place my forehead against his. "I need to take a shower," I say, "I've been dancing along to your songs for hours. And as I recall, so do you."

"And what do you propose, love?"

I giggle and whisper against his lips, "Come and take a shower with me."

Chan purrs back straight away, "Gladly."

We stumble into the bathroom, undressing each other and ourselves. I pull off his shirt, he unbuttons my pants. I pull off my shoes and socks. The tiles are heated and the warmth seeps into my skin, into my very bones.

I watch the play of Chan's muscles as he reaches into the spacious shower and turns on the water.

I reach my hand out and trace my fingertips down his spine, "Turn the heat up. I need it scalding."

He shivers beneath my touch and next thing I know, his arms are wrapped around me. He pulls me beneath the stream of water, both of us still in our underwear. Not for long, though. As always, he is gentle when he undresses me wholly. Soon I am pressed against his skin, steam filling up the air left around us.

Not surprisingly, the soap provided by a luxury hotel is much better than the ones provided by any flimsy hotel. This one in particular smells of sandalwood and it lathers quite perfectly when I foam it between my hands and spread it over Chan's shoulders. I watch as the water mixes with it and slowly but surely makes its way down his chest. When it finally reaches his abs and drips from his belly button, I have to avert my eyes.

Chan takes his sweet time as massages shampoo into my hair and rinses it out afterwards. He is very careful not to get any into my eyes, and I press my lips against his collarbone in thanks.

I have never felt so safe with anyone. Nothing can happen to me here, skin to skin, in Chan's embrace. He protects me, he keeps me going.

With his hands all over my body and our bodies smelling like sandalwood soap, we fall into our usual rhythm. And though the shower is slippery, Chan and I are artists. We are creative.

Satisfied and clean again, we fall into the bed after we have wrapped ourselves into the Four Season Hotel bathrobes. Chan gazes at me from half-closed eyes and smiles. His fingers are intertwined with mine.

Just when I think I could fall asleep, he asks, "Are you hungry?"