Seokga freezes and then smiles, a bit smugly. When he tugs off his own dark sweater to reveal the hard, toned muscle underneath, Kisa’s mouth dries out completely. She can’t resist dragging her hands down his chest, just as she wanted to do in the baths. Seokga closes his eyes underneath her touch and shivers. Her eyes drop to his pants, to the straining evidence of his arousal, and—remembering how Hani did it in the car—tentatively reaches forward to drag her hand across it. “Could you,” she croaks before clearing her throat, flushing blue, “could you, um, show me how…?”

His eyes flash open.

“I like to learn,” she reminds him in a whisper, and shakily pushes him back as she rises to her knees, undoing his zipper. There’s really no graceful way for an aroused man to shed a pair of stiff, dark jeans and the underlying underwear but Seokga manages—although Kisa suspects, with fond amusement, that there may be a bit of illusion-work involved. When the length of him springs free, Kisa’s breath catches in her throat. He’s long and hard, and she feels a surge of excited anticipation as she waits—breathlessly—for instruction.

When Seokga fists himself, his eyes become heavy-lidded. Kisa watches ravenously as he slowly strokes himself from the base upward. “Like this,” he pants. “I like it—like this.”

Kisa edges forward, replacing his hand with her own.

“Tighter,” Seokga pants, eyes fluttering shut. Kisa does as he asks, and as she strokes him hard but slow, she admires the way a flush crawls up his neck. “Good—that’s good…Kisa…”

He barely protests as she pushes him onto his back, leaning over him. She’s gotten quite good at this quite quickly, she thinks proudly, loving the way he groans underneath her touch. Perhaps it’s all the romance books. She stares down at her hand, and—on a whim—replaces it with her mouth.

His hips buck underneath her in surprise before quickly stilling. “Kisa,” he groans as she gazes up at him. His hand finds her head, and he gently holds back her hair as Kisa makes a few educated guesses about what is, precisely, the best way to go about this. Within moments, Seokga is panting and groaning, twitching in her mouth, other hand fisted in the sheets. “Kisa,” he gasps. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to—”

Kisa blinks innocently up at him.

—fuck—fuck—fuck—