Chapter Text
Minhee doesn’t stop kissing her until Lix is banging on the door that it’s time to leave and even then she rolls her eyes and licks into Jisu’s mouth for a good half a minute more as a parting gift of sorts. Her tongue is soft but purposeful, plunging into Jisu until she can’t breathe, dragging wetly into every inch of her mouth. Knowing – through years of practice and fervent dedication – exactly where Jisu is the most sensitive, and where she is not, to punish her by retreating.
Minhee holds her so intentionally when they’re locked together like this, each placement of her body calculated to trap Jisu in and keep her there, pleasant and malleable to her touches. One hand cradles her by the back of her head, long manicured nails resisting the urge to rake through her done-up hair instead forced to pet soothingly at the tangle of discreet pins and tilting her back and back for better access. The other has her waist in a tight grasp, clutching tight at her bare skin, at the narrowest point, and her fingers are so long they traverse almost half the span of Jisu’s back, grazing lightly over subtle ridges of her spine with the tips of her nails and causing a shiver to run through her right down to the her soles and to the very ends of her hairs.
Minhee’s grip is so tight it borders on bruising, has bruised Jisu before in a not unsimilar way, and that only riles her up even further, losing herself in the imagination of waltzing into the party with the imprint of Minhee’s hands burned into her waist so that there is no doubt who she belongs to. There’s already a faint lovebite at the hollow of her throat, she knows, where Minhee had dedicatedly drawn her teeth over her skin and bit in so gently, so carefully, shushing and coaxing Jisu through the negligible ache of the process and she whimpered through pressed lips.
And the rest of Minhee’s body? She uses it to crowd Jisu into the mirror, the many serum and moisturiser and cleanser bottles Lix keeps on her counter clattered on the ground. The breadth of her hips pushing forward drives Jisu’s thighs apart to accommodate, the coarseness of the pills on the fabric of Minhee’s old sweatpants rubbing insistently on the skin of the raw newly shaved insides pulling a keen from the deep in her gut. The skirt she borrowed from Lix is rucked so far up her legs it’s basically non-existent, hanging near the crease where thighs meet her hips and just barely protecting her from the cold of the sinktop under her. It’s wrinkled beyond belief but Jisu can hardly find it in herself to care.
And her chest. God , her chest. It presses dizzyingly onto Jisu’s own, reminding her just how much smaller she is in comparison. That the corset pushing her boobs up valiantly can’t even begin to compare to the size of Minhee’s hidden so completely under her baggy top. The pressure she keeps, the angle that she bears down onto Jisu, is all charted out.
Minhee’s grip is tight, yes, but only to the extent that Jisu wants it. She crowds Jisu into the wall but only because Jisu loves to feel pinned in place, like a butterfly fruitlessly flapping its wings while ensnared in a tantalisingly silky web, her heart fluttering feebly as Minhee consumes her. She places marks and stakes her hold but Jisu wants her to. She wants to be Minhee’s. How could she not? How could she not want to parade around the proof of Minhee’s all consuming love for her. For her of all the eight billion people she could have picked (or four billion, realistically. Minhee wouldn’t look twice at a man unless she was paid upwards of a hundred million won for her troubles).
Everything to the end that brings Jisu pleasure. There’s nothing more that Minhee is concerned with after all, not even herself. And for Jisu’s part, she loves the cage of Minhee’s arm, feeling owned, feeling protected and safe.
In perfect parallel to Minhee’s wilful deliberateness, Jisu flounders. She second guesses herself and seeks constant reassurance at the best of times, at worst loses herself to indecision and fear and anxiety like a shadow controlling her brain but the net that catches all those concerns and casts them aside is that Minhee does not care . The opposite in fact. She adores that Jisu doesn’t know what to do with herself, that she loses control of her limbs, of the sounds that escape her and the faces she makes and the things she pleads for with the entirety of her body. She craves the fact that she can reduce Jisu down to something so instinctual, a plant that leans towards the light, a livewire that begs to be sparked and skin that yearns for touch.
Her fingers scrabble at Minhee’s shirt, trapped between the sickly heat of their bodies but too weak to clutch on fiercely. Her thighs tremble as they’re held open. Each of Minhee’s movements triggers a flood of endorphins from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes and she cannot stop them from curling, her nerves alight.
Minhee flits her tongue against Jisu’s just so and Jisu whines, high and unabashed. She wants it again. She’s long forgotten about Lix at the door, the sound of a fist on the door fading as quick as light extinguished.
Until, of course, it begins again.
“I can hear Jisu whining, unnie. Stop kissing her and get out! Seungmin’s waiting outside and she’s parking on the curb illegally,” Lix complains loudly, her words interspersed with rough banging. Did Minhee lock the door? When did she lock the door? Or is Lix just actively avoiding walking in on them and enduring Minhee’s wrath?
Minhee flattens her tongue on the roof of Jisu’s mouth, dragging it out so painfully slowly that it has Jisu arching into her, squeezing impossibly closer together. As she finally pulls away, peeling herself aggrievedly away, she nips at Jisu’s bottom lip, thoroughly swollen red and watches, bewitched, as it wobbles.
“Coming,” she calls out without removing her eyes from Jisu’s lips to Lix, who sighs loudly in relief and stomps across the apartment to do whatever else it is she needs to do to be prepared for the night out. Minhee flicks her gaze back to Jisu’s eyes as her hands travel down the expanse of her thinly clad back, the exposed small of her back, tucking briefly into the waistline of her skirt and pulling out again to finally come to rest on the curve of her ass. She squeezes once, firmly, before using her hold to scoop Jisu off the countertop and plant her on the floor and Jisu, dazed out of her mind and still hypnotised, lets herself be manhandled easily. “Come on baby,” Minhee says, dropping a peck at her hairline where her baby hairs have been tamed back, “let’s go show everyone how cute you are.”