When they come together, holding on, it feels as inevitable and natural as the movements of the waves against the white sands of the beach she swears she can see on clear days.
The comfort comes first, soft words while the rest of the association is off without her, gentle touches that soothe more than anything else. MC aches for the emotional reassurance, for the thought, even if fleeting, that everything is going to be alright, and Jumin Han provides it in ways that the man who put her in this situation is not willing or not equipped to.
It is she that takes the touches to a different place, because she needs, and he is willing to give. He gives her whatever she wants of him, and he wants to feel angry or ashamed, but he does not. This is who he has become.
The first time she kisses him it is because she feels that she may weep, though she does not know why. He arranged for her to move in with him, at least for the time being, as it would be much too dangerous to leave her living all on her own on their old apartment. It had been a difficult undertaking, but he is proud of himself.
He is helping her arrange baby clothes in the bedroom, the corner one he had prepared for her at the penthouse. The nursery is set on the adjacent one, and he is on half a mind to tear a door on the wall that separates them. Folding a little blue shirt lodges a ball of pressure in her throat.
Jumin lovingly touches her elbow, fine and elegant fingers feel warm on her skin, and it is natural to lean into him, to find his mouth with hers and kiss him.
He makes a soft sound against her mouth, not grabbing her or pulling on her. The kiss feels sweet and soft as a spring breeze, and MC puts her hands on his shoulders, feeling his warm skin through the cloth. When he settles a hand low on her waist, forward enough that she can feel the curve of his palm against the swell of her stomach, she shifts closer to him.
They kiss for nearly an hour, time sliding and slipping away, because that is what she needs. When he leaves, moon high in the sky, his eyes dancing and his hair messy, he leans in to kiss her again, brief and sweet in her doorway.
MC sleeps soundly, one arm wrapped over her stomach, the fingertips of her other hand resting against her lips.
When her ankles swell, Jumin rubs them for her, his fingers moving up and down her legs. The touches slide across her nerves, comfort that she revels in, her toes curling. When she shifts one of her feet in his lap, she can feel the swell of his want, hot and hard through the material of his pants.
The chaebol meets her eyes, shrugging his shoulders and blushing when he smiles. It makes her laugh, delighted, and he drops his head back against the sofa with a groan when she rubs her foot in a circle. He keeps rubbing her leg, his fingers squeezing when she rubs down against him, and she watches, feeling half-breathless and giddily pleased.
When MC feels as though she can last no more, she scoots awkwardly along the couch, leaning over him to kiss his mouth, replacing her feet with one of her hands. Jumin groans when she slides her hand inside his pants, his cock hot and thick in the circle of her fingers.
It does not take long to bring him off, his arms coming up around her when he gets close. He is putty in her hand; she can do what she wills of him and he finds he does not muster much resistance. She allows him to press his face against the curve of her neck, to hold onto her while his breath shudders and he spills hot and wet across her fingers.
For a long moment they stay like that, and then he presses a soft kiss to her throat, before shifting to his feet and stumbling across to her bathroom. She watches him go, still breathless, hot and aching. When he comes back, he has himself tucked away, his pants straightened, and there is a rag for her hand. He kneels in front of her, and cleans her fingers carefully.
That done, he rests his chin on her knee, looking up at her with a blush still on his cheeks, and she has to reach out to drag her fingertips down the lines of his face. He leans into the touch, and the pregnant woman feels her eyes shut, letting him spread her thighs.
Jumin touches her soft, careful, and MC lets her head fall back, lets her toes curl and her heart race. It is slow and sweet, and each time he kisses her leg, she shivers. When she comes, he gentles her through it, and then leans over her, kissing her again, his hands braced on the couch on either side of her shoulders.
That night, he holds her, fully clothed in the bed that feels too big, the covers tangling around them in the night.
After that, he sleeps frequently in her bed. His own is left forgotten on the floor above, even if he messes the sheets every morning, so not to expose her to the maid. His warmth and comfort, something he only holds for her, offered to her freely. She grows accustomed to him, to the weight of his arm over her side, the press of his hand against the swell of her stomach, the brush of his breath against the back of her neck.
Jumin is always hard when they wake, and most mornings she wakes before he does. MC can sleep only on her side now, and he curls close behind her. The press of his erection is hot against her lower back, and by now she knows it well, the shape of it in her hand.
When the woman shifts around, turning and frustrated by how awkward the movement is, he mumbles something. He blinks up at her, sleepy, his stubble short and dark across his cheeks. She kisses him, running her hand down his chest, his body warm and pliant from sleep.
It does not take much to get him to scoot up the bed, to lean his back against the headboard. The dour man is running his fingers back through her hair, smiling at her fondly, and she feels a swell of affection for him, even as she reaches out to draw his boxers down far enough for him to kick off.
MC is not sure why she wants this now, when she has not particularly considered it before, but Jumin never questions the desires that she gets. There is already a drop of pre-come on the tip of his cock, and she shifts sideways, until she is lying comfortably enough, and licks across it.
Jumin sucks in a startled breath, but does not complain, not when she takes her time, licking and learning with her mouth what her hands already know. He does not thrust up into her mouth, just keeps stroking her hair in stunned silence, his other hand fisting in the sheets.
When he gets close, he babbles a warning, and MC leans back, replacing her lips with her hand. He jerks beneath her touch, groaning for a long moment in his chest, coming messy. She licks across one of her fingers, because she has never wondered what he tasted like before now. Mostly, he tastes like any other man, like that other man in particular. It is salty and bitter, and sticks to the back of her throat.
Usually, he cleans up immediately after he gets off, quickly and efficiently erasing the evidences of their sin post-haste.
Now, however, he is pushing her gently onto her back, leaning over to kiss her. She wraps an arm up over his shoulders, his skin so warm. He moves his mouth over her skin, so slowly, taking a care that has her in awe of his patience. By the time he is licking up the inside of her thigh she is dizzy and shaky. Already she has had to turn three times, the weight of her son too great to allow her to lay still for any length of time, but he acts as though this is no consideration at all.
When he finally licks over her, she is inclined to agree. MC falls apart beneath his tongue and lips, and the slow strokes of his fingers. Afterwards, she feels lazy and languid, the insides of her thighs are sticky, the baby is calm and, she imagines, happy.
Neither of them have something to do that day, he because this is the closest he gets to have time off, and she is unemployed because of the pregnancy, no matter how much she has tried to fight that. They come back together, skin to skin, wrapped carefully together as the sun rises outside her windows, golden and welcoming.
MC falls back asleep, Jumin's hand resting over her stomach, his face buried in her hair.
After that, they sleep naked more often than not. She likes that, she likes waking up to find him rubbing his knuckles up and down her side, his lips pressed against her shoulder. His touch becomes something she craves, comfort and desire mixed tightly together.
His cock is hard now, pressing against her skin, one of his legs between her thighs, both of the curled up on their sides. The woman hums as his fingers slides down lower, tenderly over the swell of her hip, her thigh, before moving back up again. He kisses across her shoulder, back to her neck, nosing the strands of her hair out of the way.
MC rocks back against him, their skin rubbing sweetly together. Jumin groans, his hand high enough to slide forward, fingers curling around her heavy and darkening breast. There is another flair of warmth through her body, heat gathering between her thighs. She rubs back into him again, and he presses a kiss against the hinge of her jaw, before starting to slide down her body.
It is not hard to catch him, her fingers closing around his wrist, holding. The man pauses, she can feel his breath against the back of her neck, and she slides her hand down his body, finding his hip and pulling forward. She wants to be full, to feel him inside her, though she cannot put into words why is that.
Jumin does not need her to tell him, never once has he needed that. He does groan, plastering himself close and tight against her back, kissing at her neck and jaw as he rocks against her, his hand sliding down the swell of her stomach.
MC knows he finds her wet, smiling at the way it makes his breath rush out. The press of his fingers into her is familiar by now, but no less sweet for knowing what to expect. He takes his time, the ache between her thighs growing sharper and sharper, the need down her spine growing frustrating in its intensity.
When he finally withdraws his fingers, she moans, shifting restlessly, and her partner gentles a hand down her side. He pushes her just a little forward, his hand on her thigh urging her to extend it, and she does. Her heart is racing, anticipation and want making her blood sing.
Then, just as suddenly, he pauses. Before she can ask what is wrong, he is tilting her chin up with strong fingers, his mouth finding hers, kissing her slow and sweet before settling back behind her. His fingers move over her again, and then he is snugging his hips in close, and she lets her eyes slip closed, concentrating on only the sensations.
Jumin does not press into her all at once. Instead, his hips move is slow circles, moving deeper and deeper into her body with each shift of movement. MC gasps, reaching a hand back, gripping at the back of his neck when he finally settles in her.
She can feel every inch of him, burning hot inside her. It eases an ache that she barely realizes she had, a hunger so old, so desperate. One of his hands settles onto her hip, thumb stroking back and forth against her skin when he starts thrusting slowly into her.
Each movement reverberates through her entire body. She feels on fire beneath her skin, connected to him this way, nothing at all left to separate them. She holds onto him, and he cleaves to her, and their bodies move as one, slow and perfect on her messy sheets.
When his hand slides down her thigh, she moans, anticipating the slide of his fingers over her. She is not mistaken, his touch knowing, perfect. She feels her release build and overflow, clenching around his cock, still held inside her body, twisting the member of his, milking him pleasurably to his own edge.
Jumin comes with a shout, holding her very tight. MC can feel his cock jerking inside her, a spread of warmth that makes her gasp and shiver. It seems to continue for an age, before he relaxes all at once, arms still around her, breathing heavy against the sweaty hair tangled at the nape of her neck.
MC finds one of his hands, tangling their fingers together, squeezing. While she holds on to it, the loneliness in her heart fades away, the darkness breaks in a warm light.
She does not want to be anywhere else.