park ju yeong“Fuck.”

The guy beside Kgoe Ji-wook leaned in, voice low.
“Those tits are huge.”

“What’s huge”

Ji-wook lifted his glass irritably. His friend clamped both hands to Ji-wook’s temples and twisted his head like a periscope.

“Ah—hands off.”
Ji-wook ducked, but a silhouette in his peripheral vision snagged his gaze and snapped it forward.

Among the first-years chatting with the next table sat a girl with pale skin. A longish face, softened by baby-fat cheeks—without that padding she’d look almost handsome. Yet, as Ji-wook’s friend had noted, the line from her full lips plunged to a chest so high and round it might as well have been parked on the table. The innocent face clashed spectacularly with the pornographic swell. Ji-wook’s eyes flicked between collarbone and cleavage, teeth clenched.
“Padded, right”

His friend slapped the back of his head.
“With that mouth you’ll never get laid.”

They kept drinking. Ji-wook’s casual sipping turned into drinking while craning his neck. His brain felt like a box someone had shaken; the more it rattled, the faster he refilled. Just as he tipped back a second shot, the thought detonated—I have to know.

He slammed the empty glass down; nearby conversations stuttered. Rising, he left two or three guys staring after him.

“Shit, he’s actually going” someone muttered.

Ji-wook waved the occupants of a long bench aside. The girl they’d been talking to watched her friends grab their cups and scatter, then looked up at Ji-wook, mild. He raised a brow, claimed the seat, and asked, “Alone”

Park Ju-yeong smiled at the retreating backs and the middle fingers they aimed at Ji-wook. “And you, oppa”

“Me I’m alone when I want to be, with whoever I want…” He spread his legs under the table. “Pretty, aren’t you. Name”

“Which part”

“I said—what’s your name.”

“The sentence before~”

“Pretty.”

“Me”

Ju-yeong’s eyes curved into a child’s grin. Ji-wook laughed, caught. “Yeah, you.”

“Oppa’s so good at flirting, you must have a girlfriend.”
She puffed her cheeks in mock jealousy; Ji-wook, missing the probe, gave a lazy shrug. “Do I look taken”

“Yes.”

Ju-yeong’s answer turned oddly serious, then melted into a light laugh. “Well, you’re handsome.”

Ji-wook shifted, ego stroked. “Having one isn’t always great.” He folded his arms on the table, toying with a tiny cup. “Your name.”

“Park Ju-yeong~”
She tilted her head; Ji-wook supplied his own.

“Cool name.”
Her face was a small sun radiating warmth. “Even your name is hot.”

“Keep complimenting me and I still won’t pay you,” Ji-wook slurred, tongue thick. Ju-yeong laughed softly. “Oppa’s drunk.”

She leaned in, conspiratorial. Ji-wook mirrored her, eyes betraying him for half a second to the breasts flattened against the table. Ju-yeong cupped a hand around her mouth and breathed, “Wanna see my boobs”

The words were a bucket of –15 °C water dumped on his alcohol-flushed brain. His eyes went wide. “Huh”

“Because…” Ju-yeong made a shy grimace, glanced at the revelers, then whispered, “your eyes are naughty. I caught you.”

Her fingers—long, alabaster, knuckles faintly blushed—rested together like carved ivory. Even the neatly trimmed, unpolished nails made his pulse drum. Ji-wook leaned closer, hiccupping. “Where—hic—where to”

“Sorry,” he added.

Ju-yeong laughed behind her hand, slapped the table. “Oppa You can barely stand and you’re asking logistics”

“You calling me useless”

Ji-wook slurred sideways. “Fine, I’ll rest first—you coming or not”

A flicker of shyness crossed Ju-yeong’s face; she caught his fingertips with both hands.
“…Mm, of course.”

They left the pub one after the other, caught a cab. In the hotel corridor Ji-wook slung an arm around her shoulders and steered her to the wall, kissing urgently. Ju-yeong tipped her head back, small whimpering noises escaping like a kitten; Ji-wook was painfully hard. She patted his chest to break the kiss. “Cameras,” she murmured, smiling hazily.

They burst through the carded door. Ji-wook pulled her flush, hands groping waist and ass. Ju-yeong set a palm on his arm, gentle push. “I need to wash my face.” She led him to sit on the bed. “Wait right here, okay”

A playful wink, fingers sliding from his, and the bathroom door shut.

Ji-wook’s alcohol-soaked head buzzed with want. He slid a hand under his shirt—tight, stretchy fabric kept riding up—then bit the hem and tugged it to his mouth while undoing his fly. Only thin cotton now shielded his erection.

Mid-stroke the lock clicked. Ji-wook froze, indecently exposed, as “ready” Ju-yeong emerged with a white hotel towel around her neck.
“Eh”
“Uh—”

Mortified, he spat out the shirt. “Shit, that was fast.”

Ju-yeong didn’t mind. She stepped close, sat beside him. “Aww, adorable…” Cool, freshly-splashed fingers traced his abs.

Ji-wook opened his mouth; the shirt flopped back down. “You done already”

She petted his stomach, almost reverent. “Couldn’t wait, huh”

Embarrassment warred with need; need won. He grabbed her hand, pressed it to his crotch. “Touch it.”

Ju-yeong pulled back, covering her face. “Oh my.” She giggled. “So shy.”

Ji-wook tried to kiss her; she dodged. “I’m really shy right now.”

He spotted the towel on her shoulder. “Why keep that—”

She beat him to it, stepped back, and began folding the towel with deliberate care. Ji-wook sat up. “Seriously” His voice rose. “You’re shy now”

Ju-yeong met his eyes, pouting. “Are you yelling at me”

“Not exactly—”

The conversation died. Silence stretched; Ju-yeong studied his face, inched forward, and lay across him. Her sudden submission made Ji-wook feel boorish; he couldn’t push. Ju-yeong half-sprawled, then swung a leg over, straddling his waist.

“You like girl on top”

“I only do this,” she whispered, cheeks pink.

Ji-wook’s hand hovered at her torso. “May I”

“Asking doesn’t sound like you,” she teased.

He slid under her shirt. “I was rude earlier—”

Ju-yeong straightened, granting access. “Good boy.” She watched his hand disappear beneath her bra and gave a sidelong blink.

Shit.

Two layers—padding. Ji-wook pinched the thick cup. “Why such a heavy bra”

“Oh.” Ju-yeong blinked. “Makes them look huge, right”

“They are big, I guess…”

He reached for the clasp; she caught his wrist.
“This way’s awkward.” She guided his hand back. Beneath the padding her frame was solid—fit. “You must lift like crazy.”

Ju-yeong trapped his hand again.
Sudden fingers ghosted under Ji-wook’s ass. “Hey—what’s back there”

Her hand didn’t stop. Ji-wook’s hairs stood on end. “Quit it—men’s asses are off-limits.”

Ju-wook tsked. “Oppa said a bad word.”

She lifted the neatly folded towel—now a damp white rod—and flicked it; the fabric cracked. Ji-wook threw up his arms. She batted them aside and whipped his cheek.

“Ugh—”

A red welt bloomed. Ji-wook felt for blood; none came. “What the—what hit me”

Reflexive violence rained down. He braced for blood that never flowed. “Fucking hurts…”

He shielded his face. Ju-yeong raised the towel again, then lowered it, giggling. “Did that really hurt”

“Psycho”

Ji-wook grabbed her shoulders to shove her off. “Seriously”

“Heh.” Ju-yeong’s eyes narrowed; her grin split wide. “Hearing you say it makes me so happy.”

She dropped her weight, forearm across his throat. Ji-wook thrashed; the bed squealed. Black dots swam.
“Can I touch your butt now”

He slapped the mattress, gasping. Ju-yeong eased up, ear near his mouth.
“Answer me—say yes.”
Ji-wook’s pupils rolled; fingers fluttered a nod.

At once the pressure vanished. Ji-wook coughed, throat raw. Ju-yeong looked thoughtful, lips pursed—then, as if remembering her cue, she tilted her head.

“Well, I was going to be gentle…”

Ji-wook shot upright, scrambled off the bed, but Ju-yeong hooked a foot behind his knee and kicked. He landed on the carpet.

“—but you ran.”

Now she sat on his back; his wrists were bound with the damp towel, squeaking as he struggled. She brandished a slipper. “I bruise easily. If I fall, my skin will look awful.” Swat—on the ass. She wiped her hand on his trousers afterwards. “Shoe’s wet.”

Exhausted, Ji-wook lay still, face against cold tile. “Let me up.”

“Will you be good” No room to nod.
“If you get up, I’ll hit you first.”

“What—why”

Ju-yeong yanked his hair. “So loud this late.”

“People come here to fuck—”

Hair tugged again; his forehead thumped the floor.

“I don’t care.”

Ju-yeong’s hand hovered; Ji-wook swallowed the curse. She stroked the back of his skull, gentle menace.

“I’m not scolding you.” She pressed her padded yet still substantial breasts to his back. Warmth bled through the chill. Her cameo brown lips brushed his ear, syrupy whisper: “I want to fuck with oppa too.”

“Seriously”

Need surged; half-hard again, Ji-wook’s cock nudged the floor. “But why the hell my ass—”

Ju-yeong pinched his ear for the swear. This time it felt like flirtation. Ji-wook rubbed his ear against his shoulder, flustered.

“Because,” she murmured, “it’s connected.”