One innocent glass of Champagne has miraculously turned into two, three, and four by the time the clock hits 2 a.m. What began as a casual conversation between you and Namjoon in his parents' kitchen has devolved into muffled laughter and minor bickering. The topic of your love life unexpectedly resurfaced as you both reminisced about your days as two hardworking individuals.
It wasn't your idea. Namjoon suddenly brought up his recent breakup, and he was starting to open up to you about it when something twisted in his mind, and he decided to just leave it be.
With your small hands intertwined, the back of your knees resting against the cold surface as you swing your legs freely off the counter, you were anticipating his next words.
"Do you still think Champagne won't make you drunk?" He asks smugly, recalling the many times you've told him about Champagne not counting as 'alcohol'.
Namjoon crosses his right foot in front of the other as he stands right across from you, his back against the fridge. Shrugging, you say, "People drink it like water at all the parties I've gone to."
"It still has alcohol in it," Namjoon shakes his head and looks at you in disbelief. Maybe you're just saying anything at this point. You don't even like alcohol, yet you're forcing it into your system.
"Then why am I not drunk?" You raise your glass cockily. Namjoon stands in front of you in an attempt to stop you from pouring another.
"Seriously, Y/N, get down from there. I don't want you to hurt yourself," Namjoon chastises. He bunches his cuffs up his elbows as you tail every movement of his bulging veins and gobble another liquid down your throat.
He's anxious just by looking at your body swaying dangerously close to the edge. You slowly straighten yourself. Namjoon cringes and rushes to your aid in case you fall off, but before he can get to you, you're already making your way back to the dining table, grinning sheepishly as he frowns at your actions.
"You've had enough to drink." Namjoon reaches for the empty bottle in front of you and attempts to take your full glass. But instead of seizing it from your grasp, he accidentally knocks it down with his elbows.
You both gasp, Namjoon cursing under his breath like a child caught after a late-night snack. "Oh, shit," he steps back, panicking as he watches you flip the tablecloth from underneath the long wooden table to prevent it from spilling all over the floor. Thankfully, the fabric is thick enough to absorb it, doing less damage to your dress.
When you look down at your chest to check, Namjoon respectively tears his gaze away.
"Shit, I'm sorry. I should've just kept my distance," he mutters, frustration in his tone. His eyes are glued to the white walls, so he has no clue if you're upset with him based on your expression. Though he knows you aren't. Knows you aren't capable of keeping anger towards him for long; he just wants to hear you reassure him, comfort him like you usually do when he messes things up. Doesn't need your validation, but your guarantee - some kind of promise he can hold onto. Because he's not sure if you'll be around for long.
"It's alright, Namjoon," you console him as expected, placing the - now - empty glass as far away from him. "The dress isn't ruined," you reassure him. You were more concerned about this dress, which had to have cost a fortune. You can't imagine having to get it dry-cleaned, and returned like how it was.
"I don't care about the dress," he declares, still facing the wall as though he was punished. "You can do whatever you want with it."
The dress. You forgot about it. You were supposed to be upset about it or whatnot. "You said it was on sale," you murmur, not meaning for him to hear you, but he does, and he lets out a confused sound from his throat.
"What was on sale?"
"The dress," you repeat. "You said you got it because it was on sale," you can't believe you're still upset about what he said when he was asked about it. You can't help but ask, no matter how straightforward it is. "Is that true?"
Namjoon's entire body tenses in response to your question. He wasn't expecting this, and he has no idea what prompted him to say it. When Seokjin brought it up, he panicked and made up another reason on the spot.
What he didn't realize was that you had taken it to heart. He massages the side of his head. He fucked up.
"I read the card, it was your handwriting, right?"
It takes a moment for him to respond, but when he does, he says, "Yes, it was mine."
"And you weren't forced to write it...right?"
You watch as he rests his hands on his waist, the muscles of his shoulders and back constricting against his fitted dress shirt.
"No...it was all me," he affirms.
That's all you needed to know to believe that your gut instinct was correct. "You can turn around now, by the way," you bite your lip, fighting the urge to let your feelings show.
He does as told, and you remain quiet. "I take it you're not upset with me anymore?" Namjoon tongues his cheek to prevent himself from smiling when he sees you cross your legs and your hands cutely laced together in front of you like a student waiting for her teacher.
"I wasn't upset," you say, but it doesn't seem like he believes you.
"Hm, sure enough, that you wouldn't even spare me a glance?"
"Believe what you want," you pettily respond. He looks at you with amusement as he crosses his arms against his robust chest. "What, you don't believe me?" You dramatically gape at him.
"I was right," he mumbles under his breath. You quirk your brows in response.
"About what?"
"About the dress," he says. "It looks better on you."
With the corner of his lips tugged upwards, he silently waits for your response.
"Oh, thank you."
"Do you need me to walk you to your room?"
You shake your head, wiping at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. "No, I can do it."
"Can you go up the stairs by yourself?"
"Yeah, I think... I don't know. I have to see first."
"Okay, you know what," He utters, holding out his hand for you to take. "C'mon, I'll take you there. Don't be stubborn."
Namjoon's voice is barely audible as your attention is fully on the veins protruding in his arms that he's unknowingly displaying in front of you. He doesn't know that in just five seconds, you've thought of different ways to—
"Do you want me to carry you?" he asks, debating whether he should just go over and sling you over his shoulders, risking you becoming enraged or worse - potentially kicking him in the balls.
Finally rending your eyes away from the sight, you walk past him without a word. Your fingers are weaved through the material of your dress to keep it up.
It's getting cold inside, and most of the lights are still turned on, which is understandable given that the house is much larger than the average size for a family of three. Some of the maids have already gone home to their families, except for those that have to stay in the maid's quarters in case they are needed.
Once you reach the stairs, you begin to feel dizzy and your vision a bit hazy. You frustratedly put a hand on the railing, pathetically dropping your ass on the cold step. Namjoon waits it out, watching you with dimples overtaking the apple of his cheeks.
"What's so funny?" Your forehead creases at the look of amusement on his face.
He raises his hands, biting the inside of his cheek. "I'm not laughing."
Glaring at him, you huff. "It's not funny, stop doing that."
"I'm not doing anything."
"You are!" You exclaim lamely. "You always do that thing when you laugh."
"What thing?"
"That thing you do with your eyes," you say, moving your hands in the air dramatically. Namjoon remains silent, closing the gap between you two as he approaches the steps in front of you. "It's like your eyes turn into small slits... but in split seconds, you open them widely."
Namjoon's face is at eye level with you when you're finally done rambling. "Hmm... is that how you see me?" the corner of his mouth lifts.
You nod, eyes never leaving his. He's just a few inches from your face, and you can't help but wander your eyes to his full lips.
You're too embarrassed to even discuss this with Sooya even though you had a suspicion that she might know exactly what it was that you were feeling. And after what happened earlier with your parents, you don't think it's the best time to bring it up. At least not now, you think.
Clenching your fists, you take in a deep breath,
pointedly ignoring the balminess pooling between your legs as Namjoon looks at you with hooded eyes.
"I guess so," you say as you press your lips together. It's really amazing how much you know about him, though it might not be the case for Namjoon.
"You're right," Namjoon confirms, swaying his gaze on your features. He fights the impulse to bring his hands on your small face, and feel your skin against his. He really shouldn't be thinking about things like this, but he can't help it.
"We've known each other for a long time, but I had no idea you could be this cute," his words make your stomach drop in a good way.
"Cute?" You snort.
With a knowing smirk, Namjoon replies, "What? You are cu—"
"Uh, thanks...?"
"You don't like it?"
"I don't like the word," you say, trying to hide the playfulness in your tone. "I would've preferred charming, attractive, appealing..."
"—Beautiful, gorgeous, ravishing?" He adds, fueling the heat crawling to your face.
Fuck, I shouldn't be feeling giddy around my boss.
But here you are, slowly relenting to his words. You swear you have high standards when it comes to men and isn't easily persuaded, but there's something about the way Namjoon treats you. He makes sure you're not uncomfortable and that you're still enjoying his company.
You cackle. And it's not the kind of laugh that captivates people, but rather the kind that earns comedic, theater-worthy laughter, though Namjoon seems to find it delightful. He likes seeing you like this because of him. These days, it's his favorite sight of all.
"Nope," you titter, seeing the look on his face. "I meant— enchanting, jaw-dropping, panty-dropping, drop-dead gorgeous, sexy, fine ass bitch."
Namjoon's eyes widen as you finish your sentence. You've never been so forthright with your thoughts. He never expected to hear you curse even once in your life. Call him insane, but everything about it causes his body to stir and heat rush down his pelvis.
Whatever it was that his body wanted, he figured it would have to wait until you both got back to Seoul - fully sober and aware of your surroundings and the words that came out of your mouth.
"What?" You gawk at him, eyes flickering with mischief. "You have a kink or something?"
Your words don't help him at all. He can feel his slacks tightening against the material that he has to bend down in a sitting position. You don't notice it though, you're far more concerned with getting a response than with his reaction.
"I—what?" He blinks, searching your face. When he sees how serious you are, he throws his head down with a chortle. "Oh, God. You're something else..." he whispers, unable to stop himself from biting his bottom lip.
"Have I gone too far? I swear I was just joking—"
"No, I know that."
You sigh in relief, rolling your shoulders to ease the knotted strain. "Okay, good. I thought you were gonna act all weird on me or something."
"No, but I'd like to do...something," Namjoon utters cautiously, his warm breath fanning against your cheeks. "But I can't do it without your permission," he says as your chest and stomach pulsate erratically.
My permission?
"...What is it?" Your voice comes out as a whisper.
Namjoon sighs as if he was frustrated about something, and then he gradually lets his fingers gently skim to your chin and down the side of your ear.
Holy-
You stay frozen in your spot, anticipating his next move, but he's careful not to cause discomfort. Tucking a baby hair back into its place, he softly mumbles, "I don't want to say it when you're like this."
"Like what?" You ask nervously, even though you have a glimmer of an idea of what it's about. The tension between you two is far too palpable to ignore. You're afraid to make the first move, unsure of what to think when your intuition may be incorrect.
But, based on his actions, he may be feeling the same way.
He runs his tongue over his lips, searching your eyes for a moment. Then he says, "I don't want to take advantage of your state."
"I told you, I'm not drunk," you say, impatiently. You'd be embarrassed to sound so desperate if you weren't motivated by what you're feeling right now. "I can think for myself," you try to persuade him, even if the chances are slim.
"Maybe," Namjoon hums, the back of his palms still skimming your jaw. You can tell by his pained expression that he desperately wants to tell you whatever is on his mind.
Your breath hitches and a lump forms in your throat. You're unable to steer your eyes from his mouth. God, you're so close to risking it all for this man. It's even stronger now that you know he wants it just as much as you do.
No matter how strong the lustful feeling is, your logic and rational side overpower everything. When you're in his parent's house, you can't seem to do anything beyond your morals. You simply can't. It feels as if you're betraying them in some way (besides the fact that they want you to be a part of their family). Though that isn't Namjoon's primary concern; hell, he doesn't care if anyone sees the both of you.
"Wait 'till we get back," he replies, frustratedly, resting a hand on your knee as he retreats his hands from your face, but not until he presses a soft kiss on the side of your cheek. You instantly flush under his intimate touch. Your knees almost feel like jello, and you have to suppress a sound from escaping you.
Everything is happening so fast that you can't seem to think of anything but the texture of his full lips. You would have never guessed this would happen in your lifetime. You haven't always had the pleasure of being this close to him physically, but you already miss the warmth that used to linger when he pulled away.
"I need you sober to remember everything I tell you."
You nearly choke on your saliva. He wasn't the one who drank a lot tonight, but it appears that he became even more honest and straightforward. "What is it about that you can't tell me now?"
"Well, for one, I'm currently thinking of kissing you."
Namjoon runs his finger up the bridge of your nose, back and forth across your feathery skin. The small scar on the side of your forehead from what he assumed to have been from your childhood. All your worries and not a single crease on your face to show for it, except for the smile lines around your mouth, which no one knows are one of your insecurities.
It's a reminder that no matter how much makeup you put on to cover it up, it will always find a way to show through. Before you drown yourself in thoughts that could lower your self-esteem, you focus on the man before you.
"If you're playing around, it's not funny," you say, a smug look threatening to grace your expression. "I might fall for it," you joke but there isn't a hint of amusement in your tone.
Namjoon notices your upward gaze as you try to see past him. He's far too skilled at masking his emotions when he wants to. You grab his finger and clutch it, afraid he'll leave you hanging.
"I know," he finally says, putting his hand under your chin so you couldn't turn away. "I know that it sounds pathetic, Y/N. But I would never lie about it just to fuck with you. I'm not an asshole."
"...You're not saying it to make me stay?" Your mouth slopes downward, scanning his face for anything that might indicate he was lying to you.
"That's not— no. I would never do that to you," he looks defeated, withdrawing his fingers (for the second time) from your face before letting them fall to his side.
"I'm not sure what to feel," you admit, lowering your head and burying your face in your palms. "Is this a dream? Will it go away tomorrow—" your words are short when he cuts you off sharply, grabbing the side of your face with one hand while the other reaches for your jaw.
Your eyebrows shoot up when the next thing you witness is how close Namjoon's face is to yours. His eyes are shut, forehead creasing gracefully as he tilts his face to deepen the kiss.
You don't think - can't think, and just let your lips connect with his. It's not anything too crazy, just enough for him to be able to taste the alcohol coating your lips.
You have no idea how long you were both lost in the moment, with only the faint sounds of your hums and lips smacking lingering in the chilly midnight air of the mansion.
By this time, your back is painfully pressed against the steps of the staircase as Namjoon catches you by your waist. It's amazing how he manages to keep his balance when he's hovering over you like a famished animal. He should probably thank the gym for all the times he has spent working on his toned torso, which by the way, you can feel through his shirt as you let your palm rest on the material.
You hadn't meant to touch him, but instinctively you cling to him for dear life, unable to pull away. "Namjoon..." you hum against his lips. "We shouldn't-"
"... Let's take this upstairs," Namjoon groans lowly, slowly pulling away but you nimbly catch his bottom lip with your teeth. "Fuck, Y/N..." he gives in, gripping the side of your neck and giving it a light squeeze to express how much he wants you.
Everything feels so hot. The way your body reacts to him in ways that none of your previous exes have made you feel.
With just a simple intimacy, you can't help but wonder what more you could get out of it if you both went further. The idea of getting caught any moment now feels too overwhelming, and it has your blood pumping and your heart working at its full capacity. You want it just as badly as he does, if not more, but all good things have to come to an end.
"We can't..." you whisper, resting your forehead against his as he stares at you, dejected.
Have mercy.
"In my room...?" he slyly suggests, his eyes still glued to your lips that glisten with his and your saliva. You're even more beautiful like this - flustered, he thinks.
When you begin to feel apprehensive, he squeezes your knee. "We'll keep it quiet."
The thought of sneaking into his room in hopes of not getting caught reminds you of teenagers, and you laugh to yourself as the crease on your brow fades.
"Namjoon..."
"What?" He gapes at you, confused. He hopes you want it too.
You bite the inside of your cheek, suppressing another laughter. "Oh my God, we're no longer teenagers."
When a small pout forms on his swollen lips, you almost allow him to have his way with you. You're tempted to kiss it away after just one look.
"You're such a boomer," Namjoon simply says. You cock your brows at him, your arms wrapping themselves around his neck unknowingly.
"Oh, you did not!" You gasp as though you were hurt. "You're older than me, Mr. Kim."
He glares once he hears the nickname. "You'll be sorry once we get back to Seoul."
"How sorry?"
"You'll see..."
IDK how to feel about this chapter,
but this has been long-awaited! plus I'm a sucker for slow burns *cries*