Chapter 82
The transition from the cool, salt-tinged air of the Hong Kong night to the insulated luxury of the hotel corridor was a welcome comfort as exhaustion seeped deep into their bones. Haru walked Se-hee and Hae-rin to their respective doors, his footsteps feeling lighter than they had in days.
The receptionist had handed him a discreet black keycard when they returned from dinner - a silent confirmation of the room assignment he had been both dreading and craving. He had retrieved his duffel bag from Se-hee's room, but not before she had subjected him to a barrage of relentless winks and whispered "reminders" to stay hydrated.
He stood before the door of the room, his heart performing a frantic percussion against his ribs. He tapped the card. The soft click of the lock felt like the starting gun for the rest of his life.
Stepping inside, he was immediately greeted by the familiar, beautiful chaos that followed Jae-wook everywhere. The room was a masterclass in lived-in intimacy. A designer jacket was draped haphazardly over a velvet armchair; a leather travel bag lay abandoned near the dresser; a single stray sock rested near the foot of the bed. It was a mess but to Haru, it was more welcoming than the most pristine museum.
He set his bag down, a slow smile spreading across his face. He was currently wearing one of Raiven's hoodies a black oversized one with the faded graphic on the back. He had packed it deliberately, a tactical choice for their reunion. It was soft, it smelled faintly of cedarwood, and it was warm enough to stave off the chill of the flight.
The sound of rushing water drifted from behind the frosted glass of the bathroom doors. The shower was running.
Haru stood in the center of the room, the silence of the room magnifying the thrumming in his veins. Haru felt a surge of uncharacteristic boldness. The rice wine had smoothed over his usual analytical caution, replaced by a raw, aching need to bridge the distance that had spanned the last few weeks. He didn't want to wait. He missed him.
He began to undress, his movements quick and purposeful. He shed the hoodie, his jeans, and his pride, leaving them in a heap on the armchair. Taking a steadying breath, he pushed open the heavy glass door to the bathroom.
The bathroom was a sanctuary of white marble and thick, rolling mist. Through the glass partition of the walk-in shower, he could see the blurred silhouette of the man who had made his heart stop more times than he could count. Haru didn't hesitate. He stepped into the enclosure, the sudden spray of hot water hitting his skin like a million needles of heat.
Raiven spun around, his eyes wide, a startled "Wha—" dying in his throat as Haru surged forward.
There was no preamble. Haru crashed into him, his wet skin sliding against Raiven's as their lips collided in a feverish, desperate greeting. It wasn't a gentle kiss; it was an intersection of two forces that had been pulled apart for too long. Raiven let out a muffled sound of surprise that quickly melted into a low groan of recognition. His hands, slick with soap and water, circled around Haru's back, pulling him flush against his chest.
The warm water hammered down on them, slicking Raiven's blue hair back and drenching Haru's face. He wrapped his hands around Raiven's neck, his fingers tangling in the damp, blue-tinted strands of his hair. He angled his head, deepening the kiss, drinking in the taste of Raiven as if he were a man dying of thirst.
He groaned as he felt Raiven's tongue seek his own, a slow, possessive dance that felt like it was reclaiming every inch of Haru's soul. Haru's grip tightened, his nails digging slightly into Raiven's scalp to keep himself grounded.
They finally broke apart, though only by an inch. Their foreheads leaned against each other, their breaths coming in ragged, synchronized gasps that fogged the air even further.
Raiven held him there, a longing, heavy embrace as he buried his face in the crook of Haru's neck. The water sluiced over them, but the world outside this glass box didn't exist.
"You're here," Raiven muttered against his skin. His voice was a raw, gravelly wreck of its usual idol-perfection.
Haru smiled, a secret, triumphant expression. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the side of Raiven's neck before gently pushing him back just enough to look at him.
"I'm here," Haru whispered. He reached for a bottle of expensive body wash, lathering his hands. "Let's finish washing up. You need to rest."
Raiven looked mesmerized, his breath hitching as Haru began to wash him. It was an act of tender service, but the way Haru's hands moved—slowly, tracing the defined lines of Raiven's chest, the curve of his obliques, the hard planes of his stomach—was anything but innocent. Haru was memorizing him through his fingertips. Raiven didn't even bother to mention that he'd already finished his shower.The truth didn't matter. Being this close, feeling the slide of Haru's palms against his skin, was a pleasure more intoxicating than any drug.
Haru felt the shift in the air. The playfulness was being swallowed by a darker, hungrier energy. He stopped the movement of the soap. He opened his eyes to find Raiven staring at him with a gaze of pure, unadulterated hunger.
Haru's pulse spiked. Driven by a sudden, predatory impulse he hadn't known he possessed, he pushed Raiven back against the tiled wall. The loud thud of skin against marble echoed in the small space. Haru captured his lips again, but this time, the kiss was biting, demanding, and filled with a months worth of repressed longing.
"How are you so beautiful?" Haru breathed against his lips.
He began to work his way down, his mouth tracing a trail of fire along Raiven's jaw, down the column of his throat, and across the sharp line of his collarbone. He moved lower, his tongue tasting the droplets of water on Raiven's chest and stomach.
Raiven's breath hitched, a sharp intake of air as understanding finally settled in. He watched, his vision glazed with a mixture of shock and agonizing pleasure, as Haru dropped to his knees in the spray of the shower.
Haru grabbed him, his touch firm and confident. He used his tongue to lick the length of him, a slow, agonizingly precise movement that made Raiven's knees buckle. Raiven's breath came in fast, sharp hitches the sight of Haru on his knees alone was enough to drive him over the edge of sanity.
Haru didn't take him in immediately. He was a tease. He kissed Raiven's inner thighs, he used his tongue to trace the line of Raiven's thighs, nibbling at the sensitive skin then moved to the sensitive skin of his balls, nibbling and sucking until Raiven let out a shattered, high-pitched groan.
Raiven's hands were fisted at his sides. He didn't dare touch Haru, afraid that if he reached out to touch Haru, he would lose what little control he had left. He was reduced to a trembling mess in a hotel shower.
Haru looked up, a dark, knowing smile playing on his lips. He saw the way Raiven was fighting for air, the way his body was wound tight like a spring. He teased, he lingered, and just as Raiven let out a shattered moan of pleasure, Haru did something truly cruel.
Haru stood up.
He stepped back, the water hitting his face as he looked at Raiven with a look of supreme mischief.
"As I said before," Haru said, his voice returning to its calm, melodic silkiness. He smirked, stepping directly under the showerhead to rinse the soap from his own body. "Tomorrow is a long day. You need your rest."
Raiven stood frozen against the wall, his chest heaving, his body humming with a frustrated, electric charge. "What?" he whispered, blinking back the water, looking utterly betrayed.
Haru just smirked, turning his back to Raiven to rinse himself off with agonizing slowness. He knew he was being a tease; he knew the wine had given him a wicked streak of courage he usually kept under lock and key. He could feel Raiven's eyes racking up and down his body.
Haru turned to look at him, his eyes dancing with the thrill of the chase. "Rest, Jae-wook. It's a concept you should get familiar with."
"You can't do that!" Raiven breathed, his voice a mix of disbelief and agonizing frustration. He watched as Haru cleaned himself with agonizing slowness, the water tracing the curves of Haru's own aroused body. Raiven could see that Haru was suffering just as much as he was, but he was holding back.
Raiven tried to step forward, his hand reaching out to grab Haru's waist, but Haru was faster. He reached over and shut the water off with a decisive thud.
The sudden silence was deafening.
"We should go," Haru said sneakily. As he stepped past Raiven to reach for a towel, he reached out and pinched Raiven's ass, a sharp, playful sting that forced Raiven forward against harus own unspent arousal.
"Unless you want to stay in here and take a cold shower," Haru teased.
Haru leaned in, his wet hair dripping onto Raiven's chest, and nipped sharply at Raiven's bottom lip with a seductive, biting pressure, before Raiven could react, Haru stepped out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints and a stunned, breathless Jae-wook in his wake.
Raiven stood there, dripping wet and frozen to the spot. He felt like he had been struck by lightning and then left in the rain. The absurdity of it, the sheer, brilliant audacity of Haru seducing him, left him in a daze.
Haru, fueled by a mixture of residual wine and the intoxicating power of being the one in control, Haru caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His heart was still racing, his skin flushed.
He was happy he had turned the tables around and got him back for flirting so shamelessly with him.