A buzzing noise woke me up. I pried my eyes open and searched for the source, landing on a phone on the ground with the screen lit up by an incoming call.
Yoongi's phone, to be exact.
I considered ignoring it and snuggling backwards into the warm torso flush to my back. I couldn't possibly reach for it when there was a strong arm wrapped around my chest or a nose nuzzling the nape of my neck. But then I remembered.
Min Yoongi was kind of important.
Therefore, by extension, so were his phone calls. I had to share him with the world. Even if I could feel his morning wood pressed against my backside. Completely unencumbered too, he must have forgotten to put his boxers back on after a sleepy early morning repeat of the night before. Yup, even then.
Reluctantly I peeled myself out of his grasp, ignoring the tightening resistance of his arm and his pretty groan of protest that ignited a fluttering in my stomach. The call had ended long before I managed to pick the device up off the floor, but I could see he had a new voicemail. Probably. I wasn't sure, the notification was in Hangul, of course.
I tried to hand the phone to him but he refused to open his eyes. He wrapped his arms around my frame and pulled me downwards. Startled, I squeaked and toppled on top of him. I giggled and nuzzled into his neck, I dropping the phone on the bed. Evidently, I needed to wake him up first.
I lazily ground my hips against his, eliciting a low groan from his pink lips. The skin to skin contact between our sexes felt deliciously sinful. I could tell he was rapidly succumbing to the same temptation I was when he shifted his hips so that the head of his cock was lined up with my entrance.
"Fuck..." I whimpered against the crook of his neck when I felt him dip inside me ever so slightly. I wanted it so bad.
"Fuck," he croaked in response, hips stilling. I felt the vibration of his teeth grinding in restraint.
No. Even though I was on birth control, I wouldn't do this to him. I knew his life was filled with a level of self control I couldn't begin to understand. It would have felt like I was taking advantage of his moment of weakness. His vulnerability was a gift, and I wanted to protect him from anyone who would abuse it. Even if it was me.
I separated our bodies, ignoring his strangled whimper of disappointment. I grabbed a third condom from the box and returned, straddling his thighs. His eyes were finally open, so I held his gaze as I rolled the condom down his length. By now I was familiar with his lusting eyes, but I could also see something new; relief and... appreciation.
That felt better than any risky bareback romp would. Yoongi appreciated me.
His bit his lip and held my hips as I lowered myself on him. When he was fully sheathed, he pulled me down and kissed me deeply, unbothered by our morning breath. We were far beyond that sort of squeamishness by now.
I pulled back, keeping our foreheads connected. The position felt natural since he comforted me on the elevator. I began to roll my hips while our breaths mingled on each other's lips.
We were quieter this time. I wouldn't have called what we were doing fucking, it was something deeper. We were connecting. He sat up and held me tight against him. Soft moans and gasps filled the room as I rode him to our mutual climaxes.
We fell back into the sheets and caught our breaths, softly chuckling without an immediately discernible reason.
Eventually I felt around the bed beside us, curling my fingers around his phone. "Missed call." I murmured, handing him his phone, keeping my face in his neck. I decided that that was where I wanted to stay in our precious remaining moments.
He listened to the voicemail and sighed. He kissed the top of my head and dialled back the caller.
I stayed there, motionless with his softening member still inside me as he spoke on the phone. His voice was a sexy low grumble that soothed my soul, even if I didn't understand a word of it.
He ended the call and began to move, signalling his desire to get up. I slipped off him, a little disappointed but I knew I couldn't stay there forever.
He pulled me up off the bed and led me to the washroom. We shared an intimate shower, kissing and washing each other with care.
We returned to the bed, wrapped in fluffy white hotel robes. The language barrier didn't bother me as we sat, propped up against the padded headboard in a comfortable silence. I stared at our hands between us, marvelling at our intertwined fingers. It was surreal.
Bittersweet emotion washed over me. We may have had just one day together, but I wouldn't exchange it for the world.
I knew going back to my real life would be difficult. I couldn't tell my friends, they wouldn't understand even if they believed me at all. It's not like I had any proof. Soon he would be gone, and all I would have is my memories.
"What is wrong?" He asked, voice wavering unconfidently. He was watching me while I was lost in thought.
"Nothing." I replied quickly, but he's unconvinced. The man was nothing if not perceptive, so I tried again. "This doesn't feel real."
I saw the wheels turning in his head as he pondered on my statement. I watched him pick up his phone and pull up his camera.
He isn't going to take a selfie with me, is he? That would be so reckless! Amazing, of course, but so reckless!
He didn't take a selfie, thank god. He was smarter than that. Instead, he snapped a photo of our hands fastened together. He showed me the photo with a smile.
"See? Real." He murmured, squeezing my hand. A quiet chuckle escaped my lips. I nod back, matching his smile.
Then he hit a button that opened a new text field with the photo attached. He handed me the phone. "Number." He ordered.
I typed out my digits with shaking fingers, knowing that not only was I about to receive this sweet little memento, but also Min Yoongi's personal contact information. Jesus.
He sent the photo. I heard a muffled ding somewhere in the room from my own phone. Before I could think too hard about the whole situation, a knock on the door made me jump. I scrambled out of the bed, wrapping the robe tightly around my frame.
"Who the fuck is that?" I grumbled to myself as I opened the door just enough to reveal my face, my body blocking Yoongi from prying eyes.
The effort proved to be in vain because the visitor was none other than Kim Namjoon, sporting a knowing dimply smile. My mouth popped open. Wordlessly, I let him in and closed the door.
His eyes quickly darted from me to the bed ridden Yoongi, no doubt noticing our attire but choosing not to comment.
"So this is Yoongi's infamous Noona!" He said cheerfully. "I heard you two had an interesting night." He teased with a mischievous sparkle in his eye.
I was speechless. I knew the boys were close, but I couldn't talk to Namjoon about that!
Namjoon's eyes went wide at my mortified expression. "No not- No! I meant the broken elevator!" He sputtered.
Oh! That!
I giggled, relieved. "Yes, yes we did."
"Here, Yoongi-Hyung asked me to bring you breakfast over the phone." I was too shocked to notice before, but sure enough he was holding a muffin and an apple with outstretched arms.
"Oh thanks!" I accepted the food gratefully, placing on the desk for later. I looked over at Yoongi and found him pulling on his pants under his robe. He's fucking sweet as candy, isn't he? Suga indeed.
"We have a flight to catch today." Namjoon said carefully, apprehensive of my reaction.
I nodded, understanding. "It must be tiring performing a concert and then flying the next day." I said, as it was the only thing I could think of that wouldn't be a total downer.
"It is. But it's a problem we are grateful to have." Namjoon conceded sombrely.
Yoongi started to talk him in Korean while he buttoned up his shirt. The tone of their conversation seemed teasing, with Yoongi getting increasingly exasperated with his band leader. I watched the interaction, lost but fascinated.
Namjoon turned back to me with a pained smile. "I'll let you two say goodbye. It was nice to meet you, Noona." He walked out the door, leaving us in a heavy silence. Yoongi approached, now fully dressed.
He placed his warm hand on my cheek like that was where it belonged and tilted my face to gently press our lips together. The kiss we shared was sweet and slow. I pushed the urge to cry down deep within myself. This experience was amazing, and it didn't warrant tears.
"Goodbye, Yoongi." I whispered when our lips parted.
"Goodbye, Noona." He replied and kissed me again.
He picked up his belongings and walked to the door. I followed and held it open for him. We shared a final bittersweet kiss. I watched him sulk cutely as he walked down the hall towards the elevators.
Once he left my sightline I returned to the bed and lay back down with a heavy sigh. I stared up at the ceiling and reflected on my absolutely incredible night.
Fifteen minutes passed.
Ding!
Did he just...?
I frantically searched the room for my phone, finding it under the bed. There was two new text messages from an unknown number.
The first message filled me with butterflies. I would cherish the photo of our connected hands forever. It was the second text, however, that made me squeal with joy.
"Namjoon refused to ask for me before, so I had to translate this message myself. What is your name, 누나?"
End.