Chapter Text
Tour days always carried their own gravity.
The stadium still hummed from soundcheck; the echo of subwoofers settling into the rafters, staff calling out last-minute cues, the lingering scent of hairspray and warm stage lights hanging in the air.
The members drifted across the backstage space like planets in their own orbits: some collapsed on couches, some scrolling through their phones, others half-heartedly stretching, reminding themselves they’d be “more disciplined this tour.”
Sana was not stretching.
She was sprawled on a couch like a cat in a sunbeam, scrolling through the latest staff updates while sipping something iced and irresponsibly sweet. The tour group chat, the one the members had secretly named “Twice But Tired” buzzed nonstop, mostly memes. Typical.
Then their manager walked in.
She always carried that look: the expression that meant someone’s fate was about to be decided by the whims of ONCEs who wielded too much power and had zero hesitation about using it.
The announcement came right after the soundcheck was finalized; the fan-submitted missions the members had to complete during this leg of the tour. It was supposed to be “fun content,” but everyone knew the truth: the missions were traps.
Cute, shiny traps that came with humiliating punishments if ignored. Staff loved it. Fans loved it. The members tolerated it.
Sana skimmed to her name on the list, expecting something harmless like “Make a secret friend laugh in front of all the members” or “Shoot a dance challenge in front of a famous landmark in public”
Instead, her eyes landed on the actual words.
Mission for Sana: Survive a workout session with Jihyo.
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Workout. With Jihyo. Of all things.
Sana sank deeper into the couch as the realization hit her: ONCE had not voted with kindness in their hearts. They had voted for pure chaos. And cardio.
A mission with Jihyo wasn’t just a workout - it was a public ordeal. Filmed proof of whether she could keep up with the member who bench-pressed stress for fun.
And if she didn’t do it, she knew exactly what punishment awaited: something glittery, embarrassing, and eternal, probably involving dance challenges… or wigs.
No way.
Absolutely not.
She would rather face Jihyo’s gym enthusiasm than that.
Sana looked over at Jihyo across the room. Jihyo was tying her hair up. The casual, unconscious motion she always did before lifting anything heavier than a water bottle. Her biceps flexed for just a fraction of a second, and Sana swore several staff members glanced away, as if trying to avoid a jump scare.
Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was the tour adrenaline. Or maybe Sana was just in one of her chaotic moods. Whatever it was, she suddenly found the idea utterly adorable.
Jihyo, who got rejected by every member every time she asked someone to work out with her.
Jihyo, whose last workout vlog had gone viral on Twitter for unintentionally being a thirst trap.
Jihyo, who would probably short-circuit if Sana voluntarily asked to join her.
Yes.
This could be fun.
This could be very fun.
Sana closed the fan mission document and stood up, feeling like someone who had decided mischief was her destiny.
She wasn’t going to mention the mission. Not yet.
Better to let Jihyo think it was her idea, because watching Jihyo get flustered was more effective than caffeine and sugar combined.
Sana straightened her shirt, fixed her hair, practiced the tiniest innocent smile, and started walking toward her. There was something about this mission that sharpened her mischief like eyeliner.
Jihyo was rummaging through her gym bag when Sana approached, humming softly, as if she weren’t planning anything suspicious at all.
“Jihyo-yah,” Sana said, sweet enough to be syrup. “Do you have a minute?”
Jihyo looked up, half-confused, half-cautious. “Uh… yeah? What’s up?”
Sana casually twirled the camera in her hand, pretending to check the lens while very much checking Jihyo’s reaction.
“You know how ONCEs love workout vlogs, right?”
Jihyo blinked. Slow. Like her brain had just unplugged itself.
“Yeah…? They do,” she said carefully. “Why?”
Sana smiled, not the bright chaotic one she used when teasing the members, but the small, secret one she knew always made Jihyo forget how oxygen worked.
“I was thinking,” she said lightly, “maybe you could… work out with me? For content?”
The reaction was instant.
Jihyo froze mid-breath, mid-thought, mid-existence. “W–with you?” Her voice cracked like a teenager discovering what puberty was.
Sana tilted her head, pretending not to notice. “Mm. If you’re free. I think it’d be cute.”
Jihyo stared at her like she’d been offered something illegal.
“Wait—like… voluntarily? You’re not being forced? Or threatened?” She lowered her voice. “Is someone blackmailing you?”
Sana laughed, bright and effortless. “What? No! I just thought it’d be fun.”
Jihyo just stared.
“You hate working out,” Jihyo reminded her softly, like she was solving a riddle. “You once called a treadmill ‘my natural enemy.’”
“Well,” Sana said, leaning in just a tiny bit, “maybe I’ve changed.”
Jihyo’s ears went pink. Not her cheeks, her ears. Heat rising faster than her brain could regulate.
“And besides,” Sana added with a sly smile, “the last time you did a workout vlog with a member, fans went completely insane on Twitter.”
Jihyo covered her face with one hand. “Oh my god, don’t remind me.”
“I’m just saying,” Sana teased, “your muscles have… impact.”
Jihyo made a helpless noise, somewhere between offended and flattered. It was adorable. She tried to regain composure, but it was like watching someone try to stand during an earthquake.
“Y-you really want to film with me?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Like… today?”
“If you want to.”
Jihyo swallowed. Sana could see her throat move. A tiny metaphor passed through her mind - the way someone looks when thunder rolls right behind them: startled, but a little thrilled.
“…Okay,” Jihyo finally said, voice softer than usual. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll do it.”
“Perfect,” Sana replied, all sunshine again. “How about we do it at the gym in the hotel? If you’re not tired, that is.”
Jihyo nodded, still dazed. “Hotel gym. Right. Yes. I’ll… warm up.”
“You should,” Sana said sweetly. “You’re gonna need it.”
And she walked away, leaving Jihyo staring after her like she had just witnessed a cosmic event she couldn’t explain.
The automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss as TWICE stepped into the hotel lobby; marble cool underfoot, soft lighting above, and that faint citrus scent every expensive hotel seemed to share.
They lined up at the front desk for their room cards, managers already juggling schedules, reminders, and preshow routines. Sana wasn’t listening. Not even a little.
Her eyes were on Jihyo.
Jihyo, politely nodding at the receptionist.
Jihyo, digging in her bag for her passport.
Jihyo, completely oblivious to the ambush about to unfold.
Sana shifted closer; hands clasped behind her back like she was keeping a secret (because she was).
“Jihyo-yah,” she said softly, almost sing-song.
“Mm?” Jihyo didn’t look up, still rummaging.
Sana leaned in, just enough for her hair to brush Jihyo’s shoulder. “Do you want to… film the workout vlog now?”
Jihyo froze. Only her eyes moved, darting upward, wide as if she’d been caught committing a crime.
“N-now?” she stuttered. “Like… right now?”
Sana nodded, sweet as honey. “Before lunch. It’d be perfect, don’t you think?”
Jihyo blinked rapidly, the exact speed of someone rebooting. “Are you sure?” she asked, voice slightly high. “I mean, we just got back, and, um—you don’t usually—you’re not—I mean—”
Sana giggled. “Jihyo-yah… you’re adorable when you panic.”
That did not help.
Jihyo’s entire face turned pink. She pressed her room card to her chest like she needed physical stability.
“O-okay,” she managed, clearing her throat too quickly. “Okay. Yeah. Sure. We can—we can do it now.”
“Great,” Sana said brightly, spinning her own room card between her fingers.
Jihyo scratched the back of her head, shy and completely out-of-character in a way that made Sana’s stomach flip.
“Um… how about…” Jihyo swallowed. “We meet in the gym? Twenty minutes?”
“Twenty minutes is fine,” Sana smiled.
Jihyo nodded too many times. “Okay. I’ll—I’ll see you there. In twenty minutes. Yes.”
Sana bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at how cute Jihyo was being.
As she turned toward the elevators, Jihyo called out quickly, almost tripping over her own words:
“A-and, uh—make sure you… bring water! Okay? Hydration is important!”
Sana paused and looked back.
Jihyo stood there with her room card still clutched to her chest, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, looking like she had just delivered a safety announcement on instinct.
Sana’s heart did a little somersault. God, she’s so cute I could scream.
“Alright~,” Sana said, waving. “I’ll bring water. Coach-nim.”
Jihyo’s knees nearly buckled.
Sana stepped into the elevator, giggling all the way up to her floor.
When the elevator doors slid shut behind Sana, for a moment she just… stood there. Her key card dangled loosely between her fingers, the lanyard swaying.
God, she thought, biting back a smile, she’s adorable. Like… aggressively adorable. That should be illegal.
Sana finally snapped herself out of it, shaking her head hard enough to swish her hair.
“Focus,” she muttered. “Mission. Vlog. Punishment avoidance. That’s it.”
She tapped her card, stepped into her room, and shut the door behind her with her heel.
Immediately, she leaned back against it and exhaled a long, semi-dramatic groan; the kind she would never let Jihyo see. Her heart was beating way too fast for someone about to voluntarily sweat in front of the most athletic person she knew.
It’s fine… it’s fine.
She’s just cute. Jihyo is cute. Jihyo being cute is normal. Right?
Right?
Sana buried her face in her hands. “Ugh. Not helpful.”
Pushing off the door, she crossed the room, rummaging in her bag for clothes that wouldn’t make her look like someone who hadn’t exercised since the Jurassic era. She found a pair of leggings that were more airport chic than gym functional, but they’d work. A loose cropped shirt, cute but breathable. And a matching scrunchie, because ONCEs noticed everything.
She caught her reflection in the mirror. She looked more nervous than she wanted to admit.
Sana puffed her cheeks, then let them deflate. “It’s just Jihyo,” she whispered. “Jihyo, who’s literally asked everyone else to work out with her for years. Jihyo, who will definitely be normal about this.”
A pause.
“And who is definitely not going to keep doing that shy little smile thing, because if she does, I’m actually going to combust.”
She grabbed her water bottle, took a deep breath, and headed for the elevator.
The hallway to the hotel gym was empty and softly lit, and Sana walked through it like she was floating on a melody only she could hear.
Her ponytail swayed behind her in bright, cheerful arcs, matching the bounce in her step. She padded along in hotel slippers, sneakers dangling from one hand, water bottle in the other.
She was smiling to herself.
She didn’t even know why.
(Actually, she absolutely knew why.)
When she reached the frosted-glass doors of the gym, she peeked inside and stopped.
The place was empty except for Jihyo.
Jihyo was near the mats, fussing with the angle of a mini tripod, checking the framing like she was filming a documentary on proper posture.
She looked up when the door hissed open.
And her entire face brightened.
“Oh! You made it early,” she said, smiling in a way that was somehow soft and bashful at the same time.
Sana blinked.
Why is she cute. Why is she this cute.
Jihyo waved her in. “Come inside! I wasn’t sure where you’d want to film the intro, so I left the camera off for now.”
Sana stepped in, letting the door whisper shut behind her.
“You set everything up already?”
Jihyo shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck, yet again deploying the gesture that really needed to be classified as a biological weapon.
“I just… wanted it to be easy for you,” she said. “Since you don’t like working out much.”
Sana felt her heartbeat stumble.
Stop. Stop being sweet, please. For my sanity.
“That’s… thoughtful,” she breathed, softer than intended.
Jihyo’s eyes flicked away, like the compliment embarrassed her.
“So!” Jihyo clapped her hands, too loud and too sudden, like she was physically dispelling the moment that almost happened. “Um—did you bring water? I know I already said it, but you really should hydrate.”
Sana held up her bottle.
“Yes, Mom.”
Jihyo sputtered. “I—I’m not—! I was just—! Hydration is important!”
Sana bit the inside of her cheek to hide the smile threatening to break free.
This was going to be impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
She lifted her bottle in a mock toast.
“Okay, coach. What do we start with?”
Jihyo’s mouth twitched: first proud, then shy.
“Warm-up,” she said gently. “I’ll go easy.”
Jihyo stepped onto the mat and motioned for Sana to join her.
“Okay,” she said, rolling her shoulders back, instantly flipping into focused-athlete mode, though the faint pink still lingered in her cheeks. “We’ll start with some light stretching so your muscles don’t freak out.”
Sana raised an eyebrow, stepping beside her. “My muscles are already freaking out.”
Jihyo laughed a tiny, startled sound, like she hadn’t expected Sana to joke, or maybe it hit her harder than it should’ve.
“Just trust me,” she said softly, again that gentle tone that made Sana’s brain short-circuit.
Sana looked away immediately.
Nope. Illegal. Send her to jail.
“Okay, Coach Park,” she muttered, pretending to adjust her shirt so she didn’t have to look at Jihyo’s annoyingly gentle smile.
They started with basic side stretches.
Jihyo leaned over effortlessly: flexible, steady, graceful, while Sana tried to mimic her, knees wobbling like a newborn deer.
Jihyo glanced at her mid-stretch and giggled.
“You’re already struggling?”
“Excuse me,” Sana gritted through her teeth, “this is advanced for me.”
“This is literally the warm-up.”
“Well, I’m warming up aggressively, then!”
Jihyo’s laugh echoed in the empty gym, bright, genuine, and far too fond. It hit Sana like a warm hand pressed to her chest.
“Here,” Jihyo said, stepping behind her, hands hovering near Sana’s waist. “Let me help—only if it’s, okay?”
The words came out shy, hesitant, like she genuinely didn’t want to overstep.
Sana swallowed.
Why does she ask like that? Why does she sound like that?
“Y-yeah,” Sana said, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly. “Go ahead.”
Jihyo placed her hands lightly on Sana’s hips, guiding her into a deeper stretch carefully, gently.
“Just breathe,” she whispered near Sana’s shoulder. “Slowly. Good…”
Sana absolutely did not breathe slowly.
Her heartbeat thudded in her ears.
“Better?” Jihyo asked.
“No,” Sana said instantly. “Worse. Much worse.”
Jihyo blinked, confused. “Huh?”
“Nothing!” Sana squeaked, stepping forward, anywhere, just away from that proximity. “Let’s—let’s do something else! Something less… touchy!”
Jihyo nodded, rubbing the back of her neck again. She was flustered too, even if she didn’t know why.
“Okay,” she said, clearing her throat. “We’ll do some squats next.”
Sana groaned theatrically. “Of course we will.”
“They’re good for you!”
“They’re evil.”
Jihyo bit her lip to hide a smile. “I can stand behind you and make sure your form is right.”
“No! No touching!”
Sana waved her hands frantically like she was warding off a demon.
Jihyo stared at her, startled… then burst into giggles.
“You’re so dramatic,” she said, cheeks puffing into dimples.
“YOU’RE cute,” Sana snapped. Too fast, too honest, then froze.
Jihyo froze too.
For a moment only the sounds of their breathing can be heard.
Then Jihyo looked away quickly, pretending to tighten her ponytail even though it was already perfect.
“Oh—um—thank you,” she mumbled. “You’re… cute too.”
Sana felt her soul leave her body.
“Okay!” Jihyo said suddenly, clapping once with way too much force. “Squats! Let’s—do—squats.”
She tried to demonstrate with captain/leader confidence, but her ears were bright red.
Sana watched her, deadpan.
This is going to be the death of both of us.
Jihyo finished her example rep. “Your turn,” she said.
Sana attempted her first squat. It was… not good.
Jihyo tried so hard not to laugh she physically bent forward.
“It’s not THAT funny,” Sana said, horrified.
“It’s—I’m—I’m not laughing,” Jihyo lied, wiping tears from her eyes.
“You’re literally crying!”
“I’m sorry! You just—your knees—they—were doing a thing—”
“Stop. Don’t describe the thing.”
Jihyo stumbled forward, hands cupping Sana’s elbows to steady her. “Okay, okay, here—like this.”
Sana let her guide her again.
And this time, she didn’t pull away.
Not immediately.
Not until she realized Jihyo was still holding her arms even after the correction.
Both of them looked down at their hands at the same time.
Jihyo let go so fast she nearly tripped backward.
“Sorry! I didn’t—I wasn’t—I’m sorry.”
Sana couldn’t help it, she laughed, soft and warm.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I trust you.”
Jihyo blinked. Slowly, like that meant… more than she expected. “Oh,” she whispered. “Okay.”
They stood there, just looking at each other for a moment too long.
Then Sana clapped her hands abruptly. “Next exercise, please! Before my legs explode!”
Jihyo nodded vigorously.
“Right! Yes! Core workout. Much less touching.”
Sana’s eyes widened in horror. “Core workout?! Jihyo, I have a tour to survive!”
“You’ll survive this too,” Jihyo said, smiling again, soft, proud, flustered.
“I’ll take care of you.”
Sana’s heart did the thing again.
And Sana, deep down knew, that this vlog is either the best or the worst decision she has made in her lifetime.
They moved on from squats, then lunges (Sana complained), then planks (Sana died), then rows (Sana died again).
Somewhere between Sana collapsing on the mat like a Victorian widow and Jihyo kneeling beside her with her hands on her knees, fussing like a mother hen.
Something shifted.
It was subtle. Gradual. A slow warmth creeping up from underneath the ribs.
Because Sana kept asking questions like: “Is my back straight when I do this?”
And she’d tilt her hips wrong on purpose.
And Jihyo. Poor, sweet, hopelessly oblivious Jihyo kept walking straight into the trap.
“No, you need to—um—arch a little bit—not like—okay, wait, let me—”
She’d step behind Sana again, hands at her waist, her hips, her shoulders, guiding her with that unbearably soft focus she tried to pass off as professional.
Sana started noticing things.
How Jihyo’s fingers always hesitated before letting go. How she’d step back too quickly afterward. How she kept fixing her ponytail even though it didn’t need fixing, probably because her cheeks were too warm.
And Sana?
Sana didn’t step away anymore.
Not even a little.
When they paused for a water break, Sana leaned against the wall, sipping slowly, watching Jihyo adjust the camera like the world’s cutest malfunctioning cyborg.
“You okay there, leader-nim?” Sana teased.
Jihyo froze mid-adjustment. “I’m fine! Totally fine! Just—lighting. Or something.” She waved her hand vaguely at the ceiling, like that explained anything.
Sana grinned.
Jihyo’s brain was pudding, and Sana loved it.
“Should we keep going?” Jihyo asked, voice gentler now, soft enough to pet. “You’re getting tired, right? Maybe we can do something easier.”
Sana blinked at her.
Tilted her head.
Slow. Sly.
“So now you don’t want to torture me anymore?”
Jihyo’s eyes widened.
“I—I wasn’t torturing you! I was helping!”
“Helping me suffer.”
“Sana!”
Sana laughed, stepping close enough that Jihyo had to swallow. “You’re not acting very coach-like anymore,” she said lightly, brushing past her to grab her bottle. “You’re being so nice to me.”
“I—I’m always nice!”
“No,” Sana corrected, tapping a single finger against Jihyo’s arm. “You’re being extra nice. Is it because I’m cute today?”
Jihyo made a sound like a dying kettle while Sana strutted off in triumph.
And from that moment on, Jihyo completely fell apart as a coach.
When Sana did an exercise wrong, Jihyo didn’t lecture anymore.
She just gently corrected her. Quiet voice. Even softer hands. Barely touching but touching enough.
And when Sana whined dramatically?
Jihyo gave in. Every. Single. Time.
“Can we skip one set?”
“…Okay. Just one.”
“Can we rest again?”
“…Okay. A quick one.”
“Can we do something easier?”
“…I guess—yeah, maybe.”
Sana didn’t even bother hiding her smile anymore.
She loved this.
She loved how Jihyo softened around her like warm dough.
They made it through almost everything, laughing too loud, flirting too obviously, forgetting the vlog existed. So, when Jihyo clapped her hands together and announced, “Okay! Last exercise,” Sana perked up immediately.
She tilted her head, ponytail swaying. “Oh! How about hip thrusts? ONCEs loved yours last time.”
Jihyo blinked. “Oh—um—really? You want me to do them?”
Sana nodded, all innocent mischief. “Of course. It’d be great for the vlog.”
Jihyo flushed, but she agreed instantly.
At this point, she would’ve agreed to anything Sana said.
They walked over to the hip thrust machine, Jihyo adjusting the pad and the weights with practiced efficiency. “You sure you want to end with this?” she asked softly.
“Positive.”
Jihyo settled under the padded bar, placed it across her hips, planted her feet and lifted.
Effortless. Clean. Controlled.
Her form was perfect.
Strong enough to make Sana’s breath stutter in her throat.
Jihyo did one rep. Then another. Then another, glancing at Sana in between like she needed approval.
“See?” she said, chin tucked, cheeks pink. “It’s not scary.”
Sana stared at the bar resting over Jihyo’s hips, imagining the weight of it, the pressure, the strength required. She shuddered dramatically.
“That looks terrifying.”
Jihyo sat up way too fast, worried. “Oh! You don’t have to do this one. There’s a much easier version.”
“Easier?”
“Yeah, without the weight. Just the bench. It’s more… gentle.”
Gentle. Of course. How very Jihyo-coded.
“Okay,” Sana said sweetly. “Show me.”
Jihyo nodded, moving the machine aside and dragging a bench into place. She positioned herself at the edge, shoulder blades braced, feet planted, every motion smooth, careful, unconsciously attractive.
Then she lifted her hips into a clean, steady hip thrust.
“Like this,” Jihyo said, lifting her hips into another slow, steady rep. “It’s just your body weight. Really easy.”
Sana watched the motion.
The clean line of Jihyo’s back. The quiet strength in her hips. The steadiness. The control.
Something in Sana’s brain simply… snapped.
“Sooo easy,” Sana drawled, strolling closer, eyes tracing the movement. “You make it look way too easy.”
Jihyo blinked mid-rep, already flustered. “Ah— well— it’s just— practice—”
“Hmm.” Sana hummed, stepping right up to the bench. “You know what would make it harder?”
Jihyo paused. Hips suspended mid-air. A deer in headlights.
“…What?”
Sana sat.
Right on Jihyo’s lap.
Jihyo’s soul left her body on impact.
Her hands flew back to the bench for balance, breath halting completely as her eyes went huge, startled and disbelieving. The noise she made was somewhere between a gasp, a prayer, and a system reboot.
Sana tilted her head sweetly, settling her weight deliberately across Jihyo’s hips.
“There,” she said, sugar-sweet and wicked. “A little extra weight.”
Jihyo did not move. Did not blink. Did not function.
The tension in the room spiked so fast it felt like the air had teeth.
Sana leaned in, lips hovering near Jihyo’s ear, voice dropping into something dangerously soft.
“Come on, Jihyo…” she whispered. “Show me how strong you are.”
For a full three seconds, Jihyo was completely, utterly frozen.
Sana could feel it; the way every muscle under her went rigid, the way Jihyo’s breath caught somewhere between her throat and her lungs, the way her hands hovered uselessly in the air like she had forgotten how limbs worked.
Sana bit back a smile.
God, she loved this.
“Jihyo?” she murmured, leaning forward just a little. Just enough that her breath brushed Jihyo’s cheek.
“Yes?”
It came out strangled, a tiny, cracked sound, like her voice hadn’t been used in years.
Sana swung one leg playfully, settling her weight fully across Jihyo’s hips. “Are you gonna show me,” she asked sweetly, dangerously sweetly, “or do you need a minute?”
Jihyo’s brain rebooted so violently she visibly flinched.
“N-No, I can— I can do it—!”
She swallowed, set her feet again, braced herself like she was about to lift a small car instead of one mischievous squirrel of a woman.
This was not any other set.
Not with Sana sitting there. Not with Sana watching her like that. Not with Sana’s hands resting lightly on her shoulders for balance, warm and distracting and entirely illegal.
“Okay,” Jihyo whispered. “One rep.”
She lowered her hips, inhaled. And lifted. …Sort of. Her hips rose maybe two centimeters before her whole body trembled.
Not because Sana was heavy. But because Sana was Sana.
“Are you… struggling?” Sana whispered, her lips near Jihyo’s ear.
Jihyo made a sound that did not belong in any gym, or any human throat. “I— I’m not— I can— I’m strong—!”
“Mm.” Sana tilted her head, eyes soft and knowing. “You are.”
Jihyo tried again.
Lowered.
Lifted.
This time she managed maybe three centimeters before her core wobbled like jelly.
Sana blinked, feigning deep sympathy. “Aw. You okay, Jihyo-yah?”
Jihyo looked seconds from bursting into spontaneous combustion.
“I— you— you can’t just— sit there—”
“Why not?” Sana asked innocently. Her hands slid casually, definitely not innocently, from Jihyo’s shoulders to the front of her hoodie, fingers curling lightly into the fabric.
Jihyo’s breath punched out of her lungs.
“Sa—Sana…”
“What?” she asked, all sugar.
“You’re—”
Her voice cracked again.
“You’re too close.”
Sana smiled. Slow. Deliberate. Like she was finally done pretending.
“That’s the point.”
Jihyo’s entire face went red.
Not flustered pink. Not shy peach. Red, full cherry panic.
“Sana…” she breathed, frozen beneath her, helpless.
Sana leaned forward a fraction more. The bench creaked. Their noses weren’t even touching, but it felt close enough to erase the concept of friendly distance.
“Sana,” Jihyo whispered again, voice gone small. “So close…”
“Should I move?” Sana breathed, tilting her head, a tiny motion that made Jihyo’s pupils blow wide.
Jihyo nodded. Then shook her head. Then nodded again.
Static.
Her brain was static.
Sana laughed softly under her breath.
She placed her hands gently at the sides of Jihyo’s neck, thumbs brushing her jawline with light, slow and confident strokes and Jihyo inhaled sharply, her hips jerking reflexively under Sana’s weight.
“Careful,” Sana whispered. “That almost counted as a rep.”
Jihyo hid her face in her hands like she wanted to cease existing. “Stop teasing me,” she mumbled into her palms.
“No,” Sana said, soft but certain. “I don’t want to.”
Then, with devastating gentleness she leaned down, breathed against the shell of Jihyo’s ear, and whispered:
“Do you want me to get off…or do you want me to stay right here?”
Jihyo’s breath stuttered.
Her hands lowered slowly from her face. Her eyes wide, vulnerable, overwhelmed finally met Sana’s.
And everything went silent.
Not a joke. Not a tease.
Not anymore.
Just pure, electric tension coiled tight between them.
Jihyo’s whisper was so soft it nearly dissolved into the hum of gym equipment.
“No…”
Sana froze for a beat, pretending to be shocked.
Oh, that’s cute, she thought, fighting a smile. That’s so unbelievably cute.
Sana shifted slightly, just enough that Jihyo’s hands automatically moved to her hips.
“Careful,” Jihyo warned softly, her voice tight, almost a growl. She was trying so hard to keep this professional; to pretend she wasn’t losing her mind under Sana’s weight. “Don’t move.”
Sana froze. For a second.
Then she tilted her head, eyes gleaming with mischief.
“What if I do move a little?” she whispered, her fingers brushing lightly over the front of Jihyo’s hoodie grazing her chest, barely there but absolutely devastating.
Jihyo’s eyes flew wide. “S–Sana! Don’t—!” But she didn’t push her away. Didn’t even try.
Her hands stayed right where they were, gripping Sana’s hips like her life depended on it. Instinct, reflex, like something deeper she didn’t dare name.
Sana’s smile curved slow and dangerous across her lips. She shifted again, leaning in closer, letting her thighs press a little more firmly against Jihyo’s. The warmth. The friction. The tension humming between them like a live wire.
“Hmm…” Sana murmured, like she was thinking out loud, “maybe you’re not strong enough to handle me?”
Jihyo’s breath caught sharply, her cheeks becoming a shade of red Sana had never seen before.
“Stop teasing me—” Jihyo muttered, voice strained, her fingers tightening around Sana’s hips like she could pin her there with sheer will.
Sana didn’t stop.
Of course she didn’t.
She pressed in just a little harder, her hands sliding over Jihyo’s chest again, feeling the faint warmth beneath the hoodie. And every inch she pushed, every tiny shift she made, Jihyo’s grip only tightened.
And God, that only made everything worse.
Everything hotter.
Everything more.
So, Sana pushed harder.
She pressed both hands flat against Jihyo’s chest, fingers curling just enough to feel her, leaning in until her weight settled fully across Jihyo’s hips. She lowered her voice to a whisper, warm against Jihyo’s skin.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Jihyo’s grip tightened instantly, fingers digging just slightly into Sana’s hips. Her chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths, but her eyes?
They didn’t flinch. They didn’t look away.
“Don’t,” she whispered back, voice thin and strained but steady.
Sana’s grin widened, slow and delighted.
Oh, she loved that.
Loved it too much.
She leaned in just a fraction more, letting her tongue ghost over Jihyo’s neck, not contact, not quite, just a warm, dangerous tease against sensitive skin.
Jihyo’s whole body tensed. She let out a soft, helpless whimper, frustration, restraint, something deeper.
“Sana… stop… I—”
But she didn’t push Sana off. She didn’t move her hands. She didn’t yield, not even for a second.
And that made something molten bloom in Sana’s chest.
Sana leaned closer, slow, deliberate, every inch a provocation. Her hands roamed just enough to feel her, a brush, a squeeze, her fingers sliding over warm fabric, each motion designed to pull Jihyo’s composure apart thread by thread.
Jihyo’s breathing hitched. Her cheeks burned a deeper shade of red. She was fighting it, trying so hard to stay in control but every teasing whisper against her neck, every shift of weight on her hips, every brush of Sana’s hands made her unravel a little more.
Sana tilted her head, lips hovering at the shell of Jihyo’s ear, her voice a low murmur: “You’re so strong… but maybe not strong enough for me?”
Jihyo’s grip on her hips tightened impossibly, breathtakingly tight. She forced out a single word, low and sharp through clenched teeth:
“Don’t.”
Sana froze for a moment.
Then exhaled a soft, breathless laugh, heat curling through her as she shifted even more weight onto Jihyo, feeling every taut, trembling muscle respond beneath her palms.
But underneath all the confidence, all the bravery that rivaled the strongest warriors in human history, Sana caught the change, a single flicker in Jihyo’s gaze. Something sharp. Something deliberate.
The flush on Jihyo’s cheeks deepened, spreading to her ears, her neck, but those eyes, oh God, those eyes, lost every trace of hesitation. They were steady now. Focused. Intent.
And then she lifted her hips.
Sana felt it instantly.
The clean line of motion. The precise, taut control. The strength coiled beneath her like a drawn bow.
Jihyo’s hands slid to Sana’s waist, not gripping, just anchoring, steady, sure, confident. Her core didn’t waver. Her back straightened like a steel beam. Her chest rose with each breath, controlled and powerful. Her body moved with a perfect, almost mesmerizing rhythm.
Sana lost count around fifteen. She stopped trying. Her heartbeat was too loud in her ears to think anyway.
Jihyo didn’t shake. Jihyo didn’t falter.
Her breathing stayed measured, smooth, disciplined. She never broke eye contact, as if each rep was a quiet message: I got this. I can handle this. I can handle you.
Sana’s mind spiraled.
How is this even fair?
So, Sana tried to break her.
Just a tiny shift of weight: teasing, testing enough to force Jihyo’s legs to adjust. Her smirk was wicked. “Hmm… maybe this will be harder than it looks—”
Jihyo’s eyes sharpened, dark and commanding.
“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
Sana froze so fast it was instinct, like Jihyo had pressed a button deep inside her. Her spine went rigid. Her breath stopped mid-inhale. Her eyes widened.
The tension between them didn’t just thicken. It ignited. It was electric. Alive. Thrumming between them.
In the way Jihyo’s hands held her firmly, unyieldingly. In the way her gaze pinned Sana in place, steady and precise. In the way her body moved warm against Sana’s skin.
Sana’s thoughts scattered. She tried, just once, to wiggle, to tilt, to shift even a millimeter…
But Jihyo didn’t let her.
One… two… three more reps.
Sana felt every controlled motion. Felt the tension and release of Jihyo’s muscles, her strength so close it made Sana’s toes curl.
Four… five… six.
Sana bit down on her lip, trying to pretend she wasn’t shaking. Pretend this wasn’t melting her from the inside out. Pretend this was still just a workout.
It wasn’t.
Jihyo met her eyes again; calm, clear, focused, and the way she held her made Sana feel like the safest, most thrilling thing in the room at once.
Seven… eight… nine.
Sana tried to test her one more time, a subtle shift, a soft challenge.
Jihyo caught it instantly.
Her hands tightened around Sana’s hips, grounding her with a quiet, devastating certainty.
“Don’t. Move.”
Sana went perfectly still, breath catching high in her chest.
The world shrank to a hum of the treadmill. The squeak of a yoga mat. The faint mix of their sweat in the air.
All of it faded until there was only this. Only her.
Only Jihyo.
Sana wanted to squirm. To tease. God, she wanted to move.
But she couldn’t.
Not with Jihyo’s hands on her. Not with that gaze holding her still. Not with their breaths, one steady, one ragged syncing in a rhythm that felt impossible to survive.
It was unbearable.
And yet the most intoxicating thing Sana had ever felt.
The moment stretched; a thin, trembling wire of tension pulled so tight it sang.
Sana wasn't breathing normally anymore. It was shallow, uneven, like she was scared that even drawing too much air would count as movement.
She could feel Jihyo’s thighs tightening beneath her, the controlled rise and fall of her hips, the steadiness that should’ve been impossible under this much pressure.
Ten… eleven… twelve.
Jihyo didn’t break eye contact.
Not once.
Sana swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “You’re— you’re really—”
Jihyo cut her off without a word.
She just kept going.
Her body was a perfect machine: strong, focused, unshakably grounded. Every rep was clean. Every motion precise. Her grip never loosened, only tightened when Sana so much as twitched.
Thirteen…fourteen…fifteen.
Sana thought she’d stop there.
She was wrong.
Jihyo exhaled once, slow, controlled, and then pushed through another rep. And another. And another. Each one smoother than the last. Each one more confidently claiming the space between them.
Sana’s fingers dug instinctively into Jihyo’s shoulders, nails pressing in without her even realizing she’d moved. Her whole body felt wired, overloaded, like her nervous system couldn’t decide whether to melt or combust.
Jihyo finally paused halfway up holding the position with flawless control. Her voice was low, rough around the edges and just a little breathless
“You think I can’t handle you?”
Sana’s heart did something catastrophic in her chest.
She opened her mouth to tease, to deny, to push back but Jihyo moved first.
She lifted Sana higher with a slow, deliberate thrust of her hips, hands guiding her like she weighed nothing, like she belonged exactly where she was. Sana gasped a soft, broken sound she couldn’t swallow fast enough.
Jihyo’s lips were so close Sana could feel the warmth of her breath against her neck.
“Stay,” Jihyo murmured, commanding but intimate. “I’m not finished.”
Sana couldn’t even nod.
Her body answered for her: still, obedient, electrified.
Jihyo completed the rep.
Then another.
And another.
Until Sana wasn’t counting numbers anymore.
She was counting heartbeats.
Jihyo’s under her palms. Her own in the core of her being. The rhythm of their breaths tangled and uneven and too close to separate.
Sana tried, one last time, to test her with a tiny movement, barely a shift of weight, just to see if Jihyo’s focus would break.
Jihyo’s hands tightened instantly, holding her perfectly still.
Her voice dropped into something dark and devastating.
“Sana.”
Just her name.
But said like a promise. Said like a warning. Said like she saw through her.
Sana went still so fast it felt like gravity had changed its mind.
Her pulse was everywhere, her fingertips, her throat, her spine. She didn’t even realize her lips had parted until Jihyo’s eyes flicked down to them for half a heartbeat.
Then Jihyo did one final rep.
Slow. Controlled. Unshakably strong.
When she reached the top of the movement, she held Sana there: perfectly balanced, perfectly steady, perfectly hers.
“See?” Jihyo whispered, voice warm and deep and so self-assured it made Sana’s head spin. “I can handle anything you give me.”
Sana’s breath hitched.
Her voice came out soft, helpless, undone.
“…Oh my god.”
And finally. Finally, something in the air snapped.
Jihyo’s resolve broke like a dam.
Her hand flew up, fingers curling around the back of Sana’s neck, pulling her in. All the control, the restraint, the flushed shyness, it vanished in an instant.
Their lips met.
Fierce. Hungry. Desperate.
Everything they’d been holding back; every tease, every lingering glance, every clumsy, flustered moment exploded in that single, burning kiss.
Sana gasped into it, tilting her head as her hands fisted in the fabric of Jihyo’s hoodie, dragging her closer.
Jihyo responded instantly, arms locking around Sana’s waist, pulling her flush against her hips with perfect, commanding strength.
The gym disappeared. The workout disappeared. The camera, the vlog — gone.
There was only the fire, the heat, the electric pull of skin and breath and want.
Every kiss, every shift of muscle, every heartbeat pressed between them, it was all unraveling fast. Too fast. Off the rails.
Sana broke the kiss just slightly, gasping, a wicked smile tugging at her lips. “See?” she whispered. “Told you… I could push you.”
Jihyo glared at her breathless, flushed, glowing from the inside out and pressed their foreheads together.
“You’re impossible,” she whispered.
“And you love it,” Sana murmured.
Jihyo didn’t even try to deny it. Her voice was soft, her eyes even softer. “I do…”
Sana froze for half a second, not from surprise, but from the punch of warmth that came with hearing it.
Then she saw it.
The heat in Jihyo’s gaze sharpening; focused, determined, burning with something deeper.
And then she lifted her hips again.
Sana felt it immediately: the perfect, controlled, precise movement of strength beneath her. Jihyo’s hands steadied her at the waist, her core solid as steel.
Sana’s smile turned slow and wicked. She leaned forward just enough to let her lips brush Jihyo’s, feather-light.
For a moment, nothing moved except breath and tension.
And then Jihyo wobbled again.
Barely.
Just a fraction of a fraction, a millimeter of motion from someone normally unshakeable.
But it was enough.
Sana felt it like a spark lighting a fuse: a sudden jolt of heat ripping through her chest, knees weak, brain white noise.
Jihyo’s eyes widened, embarrassed, startled and she snapped her hips back into perfect form way too fast, way too hard.
Sana didn’t think; her body reacted before her brain caught up. A soft moan escaped her, half gasp, half helpless squeak as her eyes rolled back for a second, Jihyo’s name slipping out in pure shock.
Her hands grabbed Jihyo’s hoodie again, pulling her in, pressing herself against Jihyo with more force than before; instinctive, breathless, helpless.
Jihyo adjusted automatically, steadying them both, but the damage was done.
That tiny wobble had ignited something neither of them could put out.
Sana kissed her again, harder this time, lips parting, teeth ghosting over Jihyo’s lower lip.
Jihyo didn’t pull away. She couldn’t. Her hands clamped onto Sana’s hips again, grounding her, grounding herself, but every small shift of movement only fed the fire.
And Sana. God, Sana couldn’t stop.
She pressed into Jihyo fully, letting every nerve burn, letting her mind short-circuit completely, because that one tiny, accidental wobble had unlocked something she absolutely wasn’t ready for.
But she didn’t want to be ready.
She wanted this.
She wanted her.
She needed her.
Only Jihyo.
Only the feel of her: the heat, the tension, the perfect, vulnerable strength beneath Sana’s hands.
And she wasn’t stopping now.
Sana felt every nerve in her body ignite the moment Jihyo’s lips met hers again. And then… movement.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
Jihyo was still doing the reps. Perfect form. Shoulders braced on the bench, feet planted, core tight, hips moving in flawless, controlled arcs. And with every lift, every thrust, Sana was pressed deeper against her, shockwaves shooting straight through her core.
Her brain short-circuited.
Sana’s hands moved without permission. One slipped beneath the hem of Jihyo’s hoodie, tugging just enough to see what was underneath. A sports bra. Her breath caught.
Oh.
Ohhh.
Her fingertips traced the line of Jihyo’s abs: flat, strong, impossibly defined and the feel of those muscles flexing under her touch made Sana’s thighs clench and her pulse stutter.
And Jihyo. God, this woman kept lifting.
Reps smooth, steady, unbroken. Like Sana weighed nothing. Like this was easy. Her hands tightened around Sana’s hips to steady her, her back firm, her chest lifted. All strength, all focus even with Sana kissing her like she was starving.
Sana couldn’t contain herself. Her hand drifted higher, slipping beneath the sports bra, cupping Jihyo’s chest with more pressure than she intended to.
Jihyo moaned into her mouth softly, beautifully, and the sound vibrated through Sana like a live wire.
Rational thought dissolved. Heat, lust, need that was all that was left. She felt every rep, every thrust of Jihyo’s body, every gasp and trembling exhale against her lips. Her fingers skimmed lower again, teasing under the bra, pressing more deliberately, and Jihyo moaned a second time, low, muffled, wet.
Every thrust, every flex of Jihyo’s core sent a fresh jolt of heat spiraling through Sana. She moaned softly into the kiss, biting Jihyo’s lower lip just enough to feel her tense.
Sana pressed in closer, chest to chest, thighs brushing, letting the rhythm of Jihyo’s motion ripple through her own body. Her mind was gone, melted down to white-hot feeling. Her core burned, pulsed, begged.
“Jihyo… oh god…” Sana whispered against her lips; breath shaky. “Jihyo… I—” Her voice broke into another moan, swallowed into the kiss.
Jihyo’s eyes fluttered open for just a second, a flicker of raw, unrestrained want before her lips brushed Sana’s again. A soft moan escaped into the kiss, hips still rising with perfect precision, hands gripping Sana’s waist to steady them both as if she were anchoring them to the earth.
Sana felt like she was unraveling completely. She wrapped her arms around Jihyo’s neck, pulling herself closer, grinding in sync with the rhythm of the hip thrusts, helpless against the way Jihyo moved.
Every upward lift drove Sana harder against her; every downward press pushed Sana back into Jihyo’s strength. Her body couldn’t decide whether to melt or tighten around the sensation. Her hands moved freely, greedy, roaming under the bra, down the curves of Jihyo’s abs, tracing every line of heat and muscle she could reach.
Jihyo shuddered under her touch, not losing rhythm, not even close, but reacting, breath catching, chest tightening, the tension rolling through her in waves that Sana could feel everywhere their bodies met.
And Jihyo moaned softly, hissed softly, and somehow still kept perfect form. Every. Single. Rep.
Sana could barely think. Could barely breathe. Every inch of her felt like it was melting into the heat, the strength, the impossible control of the woman beneath her.
And that control, that power, only made everything hotter. The worst part? The best part? They were still kissing. Still pressing. Still burning. And Jihyo was handling all of it like a powerhouse, while Sana’s mind unraveled at the speed of light.
She leaned forward, lips brushing along Jihyo’s neck, biting softly, teasing, her hands sliding under the bra again. Jihyo hissed, breath stuttering, but didn’t stop. Didn’t falter. Her hips kept lifting, thighs flexing, abs tightening, every disciplined motion making Sana dizzier.
Sana crashed her lips back against Jihyo’s, teeth grazing, tongue flicking in rhythm with each rise and fall. Her thighs clamped tighter, core tightening, breath breaking apart, she was undone. Completely undone.
Jihyo hissed into her mouth, moaned again, her hips lifting, chest pressing to Sana’s, body holding form, holding control, holding fire and yet Sana could feel it: Jihyo was just as lost.
“Oh baby… Jihyo…” Sana whimpered into the kiss, grinding harder now, syncing her body fully with the motion of the thrusts. Every second was electric, impossible, unbearably hot.
Jihyo’s soft, ragged moans answered her; low, breathy, vibrating straight through Sana’s chest and every sound shattered another piece of her composure.
They only pulled away when it felt like they might actually die.
Sana stayed pressed against her, foreheads touching, gasping, clutching, burning, trembling so hard her breath stuttered. And Jihyo still moaning softly, muscles flexing beneath her, control razor-sharp even as she unraveled kept driving Sana wild with every perfect motion.
It was insane. It was ridiculous. And they both loved every second of it.
Sana pushed herself impossibly close, chest flush to Jihyo’s, hips instinctively syncing with the rhythm of the thrusts. But then… Jihyo changed it. Picked up the pace. Harder. Faster. Each lift a precise, devastating arc of strength and control; each descent a slow, deliberate brush of pressure that sent a trembling shock straight through Sana’s core.
Her breath hitched. Her thighs tightened. Her whole body bowed into Jihyo’s like she was made to fit there.
She bit Jihyo’s neck again, softer this time, nipping, letting her teeth press lightly, marking, claiming, teasing. Jihyo’s low moan into the kiss vibrated against Sana’s lips, sending shivers down her spine, making her tremble against the steady, powerful rhythm of the thrusts.
Sana’s body arched, chest pressed, fingers squeezing, hands roaming, teeth grazing, lips locking, grinding into every up-and-down motion. Breath hitched, heart hammered, every muscle burning. Every nerve was screaming, and yet she couldn’t, wouldn’t stop.
Her body shook. A little tremor ran up her thighs, through her back, into her chest, and she pressed harder into Jihyo’s strength, hips moving instinctively to match and heighten the rhythm. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, a shuddered whisper of “Jihyo…”, You, lost, burning.
Jihyo hissed hands gripping her hips steadying her, holding her up even as the thrusts accelerated, even as the pressure, the friction, the heat grew unbearable. And Sana — trembling, arching, quivering, felt it peak.
Not with a word, not with a sound, not with anything explicit, just with shivers, the way her fingers clutched Jihyo, the way her body pressed impossibly close, the way her breath hitched in ragged gasps, her thighs tightening, her core on fire.
Every movement of Jihyo beneath her became a wave, a pull, a current she couldn’t fight, couldn’t escape, couldn’t think through. Her lips found Jihyo’s again, teeth brushing softly, kisses desperate and needy, and her body, every trembling, burning inch of it surrendered to the rhythm, to the friction, to the fire of being pressed, held, moved by Jihyo’s power.
And in that moment, between moans, thrusts, kisses, and trembling, Sana’s body spoke for her, every gasp, every shiver, every whispered name painting the story of her surrender, her release, without a single explicit word needed.
After the storm of heat, chaos, and reckless teasing finally subsided they collapsed together onto the padded floor, breathless, flushed, hearts hammering like wild drums in their chests.
For a moment, all that existed was the heat between them, the lingering friction, the impossibility of what had just happened.
“Oh my god… holy shit,” Sana gasped, shaking her head, laughter bubbling out of her in disbelief.
Jihyo’s chest heaved, cheeks burning red, eyes wide. She let out a breathless laugh of her own, clutching at her stomach, as if she couldn’t quite believe she had just done that. “I… I can’t believe you did this,” she said, voice shaky but full of incredulity. “You… you played me like a fool.”
Sana leaned closer, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from Jihyo’s temple, grinning mischievously. “You didn’t seem to mind,” she said, teasing, but there was a warmth in her tone that made Jihyo’s chest flutter.
Then, as if the universe itself wanted to slap them both, they remembered the camera.
“Oh… shit,” Jihyo whispered, eyes snapping wide.
Sana’s laughter turned into a squeal, and Jihyo followed, red-faced, both of them rushing to the camera. “Delete it,” Sana said, still giggling. “This… this can never go public.”
“Absolutely not,” Jihyo agreed, fumbling over buttons as they both tried to erase the evidence. They laughed at each other, breathless, flushed, flustered, hearts still hammering from both exertion and the absolute chaos of what had just happened.
When the last file disappeared, Jihyo dropped her head back, a groan of pure exhaustion escaping her. “God… I’m sore,” she admitted, voice a mix of awe and disbelief. “This… this was the workout of my life. I never thought I’d be… doing that. With… you.”
Sana’s grin widened, playful and wicked, and she crept behind Jihyo, pressing hands to her glutes and back, kneading lightly. “Let me help,” she said innocently, though her fingers squeezed a little more boldly than “innocent” implied.
“Sa…Sana, stop,” Jihyo hissed, half-laughing, half-exasperated.
“Or… how about I return the favor?” Sana countered, voice low, teasing, and the sudden silence that fell between them was thick, heavy, and charged with possibility.
Jihyo blinked. Then, instead of speaking, she grabbed Sana, not roughly, but firmly by the shoulders, pulling her close. The look in her eyes said everything: we’re not done
And just like that, the chaos of the gym, the tension, the laughter, the fire between them… it all promised that this was only the beginning.