CHAPTER 139: CHAPTER 139: SOFA ENTWINED

Late-night Seoul was a hush of neon out the window, a sweep of headlights rolling along riverside roads, the city pulsing quietly while the rest of the world slipped into dreams. Inside Joon-ho’s apartment, only a single lamp burned—its glow gilding the edge of the living room, painting golden halos in Yura’s hair where she straddled his lap on the sofa.

Neither of them was in any hurry. The day’s chaos, the anxious texts and looming deadlines, were a distant world now—shut out by the simple act of a slow, lingering kiss.

Yura pressed her hands to Joon-ho’s jaw, brushing her thumbs over the shadow of stubble. She kissed him gently, then a little deeper, her mouth soft and searching. His arms circled her waist, drawing her close. They smiled between kisses, teasing and familiar—old friends, old lovers, each savoring the other’s warmth.

"You’re trouble, Kim Joon-ho," she murmured, voice low and almost playful.

He only grinned, brushing her hair back from her face, thumb caressing her cheek. "Seo Yura, you like trouble."

She made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh and kissed him again—longer, slower this time, as if they had all the time in the world.

She could feel his heart beating under her palm, his body hot through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Her own pulse thudded in her chest, steady and sure, as she shifted, settling herself over him.

One hand slid under the hem of her shirt, fingers tracing the curve of her side, the dip of her waist. He pushed the fabric up, lips following—soft kisses pressed along her ribs, the underside of her breast. Yura let her head fall back, breath catching, arching into his touch as he unclasped her bra, easing it away with gentle patience.

"Always so careful," she whispered, threading her fingers into his hair. He kissed the hollow of her collarbone, nuzzling the spot where her pulse fluttered.

He smiled against her skin, his voice a low murmur. "You deserve careful."

Her shirt fell away; her bra joined it. Yura’s skin prickled in the cool air, but his hands were warm—palming her breasts, stroking her back, exploring her as if learning her body anew.

She tugged his shirt up, laughing softly when it caught at his shoulders. He leaned back just long enough to help her pull it off, revealing the strength of his chest, the familiar lines of his body.

They came together again, chest to chest, skin to skin, hips rocking in a slow, lazy rhythm. Yura’s hands skimmed his torso, feeling the shudder of anticipation in his muscles. Their kisses grew deeper, hungrier, as the heat built between them.

Joon-ho’s hands drifted lower, tracing the curve of her hips, squeezing gently, grounding her against him. She ground down, feeling the hardness of his cock beneath his boxers, her own arousal slick and urgent.

She paused, lifting herself just enough to shimmy out of her panties, tossing them aside. His boxers followed—her fingers grazing the trail of hair down his stomach, her touch slow and teasing. When his cock sprang free, she hesitated for just a moment, their eyes locking—an unspoken promise passing between them.

"You’re sure?" he whispered, voice rough with wanting.

Yura nodded, her cheeks flushed. "Always, Joon-ho. Just... let me."

She reached between them, guiding him to her entrance, feeling his tip slide against her slick folds. There was a hush—a quiet that stretched and trembled between them—as she sank down, inch by inch, gasping at the stretch and fullness. Her head fell forward, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut.

He gripped her hips, steadying her, watching every flicker of pleasure cross her face. "God, Yura... you feel incredible."

She didn’t answer with words—just a soft moan, her hands braced on his shoulders, her body slowly adjusting to the depth of him. When she was seated fully, his cock buried inside her, they stayed like that for a moment—breathing each other in, hearts pounding in unison.

Slowly, Yura began to move. At first, she rocked her hips gently, savoring the friction, the exquisite sensation of fullness. Each roll pressed him deeper, her walls fluttering around him, drawing him closer with every pass.

Joon-ho’s hands trailed up her back, his lips finding her throat, the line of her jaw, her mouth. He kissed her with a kind of desperate reverence, tasting the sweat and sweetness of her skin.

"You’re beautiful," he whispered, words tumbling between kisses. "So beautiful, Yura."

She smiled against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair. "Don’t stop... please."

He didn’t. He matched her rhythm, thrusting up into her with slow, powerful movements, hands guiding her, encouraging her. The sofa creaked beneath them, their bodies moving in perfect sync.

Yura’s moans grew louder, her head thrown back, hair spilling over her shoulders as she rode him harder. Joon-ho watched her, rapt—her body shining in the lamplight, the flush rising in her chest.

She leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his, her kisses urgent and messy. "Joon-ho... I’m—oh, I’m close..."

He murmured encouragements, hands roaming to cup her breasts, thumb circling her nipple until she gasped, her body shuddering with pleasure.

The pressure built, cresting higher and higher, until Yura broke—her orgasm rolling through her in waves, her cries muffled by his mouth as she clung to him.

Her body trembled, walls pulsing around him, milking him for everything. Joon-ho groaned, thrusting up hard, the sensation tipping him over the edge. He came with a shudder, hips bucking, spilling deep inside her.

They clung to each other, the aftershocks making them shake, kisses turning softer, gentler, as the world slowly came back into focus.

Yura slumped against his chest, her breath ragged, laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep. "I forgot how good this feels... how good you feel."

Joon-ho stroked her hair, holding her close. "You make it easy to forget the world."

She nuzzled his neck, her voice a sleepy murmur. "Don’t let me go yet."

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Never."

Outside, Seoul glowed—alive and indifferent—but inside, the two of them were all that mattered, entangled on the sofa, wrapped in the warmth of love and longing finally let loose.

For a long, glowing moment, the world outside faded to nothing. Joon-ho held Yura tight on his lap, her body quivering, breath coming in little shivers of laughter and relief. Their bodies still joined, his cock still thick inside her, her thighs shaking with the aftershocks of her climax. The low lamp in the living room traced a soft golden edge over Yura’s flushed skin, her bare back arched, her arms looped around his neck.

She nestled her face against his shoulder, hair tickling his jaw as she caught her breath. He stroked her back, slow and steady, letting her tremors ease, murmuring her name between kisses. The whole apartment felt suspended in this hush—a city of ten million voices drowned out by the pulse of two hearts, two bodies, tangled in each other.

Then, gently, he shifted beneath her, hands sliding to her hips.

"Ready?" he whispered, teasing.

Before she could answer, he gathered her close and stood in one powerful motion, lifting her as easily as if she weighed nothing. Yura gasped, startled, her legs instinctively clamping around his waist. Her laughter rang out, breathless and bright, then turned to a moan as the new angle made her feel every inch of him, still sheathed deep inside.

"Joon-ho!" she scolded, though her fingers gripped his shoulders, nails digging in, body trembling with the effort not to come undone again.

He just grinned, loving the way she clung to him, the way her head fell back as he began the slow, swaying walk toward the bedroom. Each step rocked her on his cock, the friction sending tiny, helpless whimpers spilling from her lips.

"God, you—" Her protest dissolved into a soft, high moan. By the time they reached the door, her thighs shook; by the bed, her body tensed, then fluttered around him in a sharp, unexpected climax. Her toes curled, her voice breaking, her breathless giggle dissolving into another gasp.

He laid her gently on the mattress, never letting her go, never breaking their connection. Yura’s arms unwound from his neck as she sank into the sheets, spent and pliant, hair spread in wild, silken waves. Her eyes fluttered open—liquid and glassy, dazed with pleasure.

Joon-ho brushed her hair from her cheeks, planting a slow kiss to her forehead. "You okay?"

She managed a shaky nod, a smile tugging at her lips. "I think I forgot how to breathe for a minute."

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating in his chest. "Breathe for me now. I’m not done with you yet."

She blushed, the heat rising again under his gaze.

He reached for the bottle of massage oil on his nightstand, unscrewing the cap and drizzling a generous pool into his palms. He warmed the slick between his hands, then began to work it into her neck, tracing firm, patient circles into tense muscles. His touch was expert, his fingers slow and thorough, as if he could knead away every shadow from the past week.

Yura sighed, her whole body melting into the bed. "If I could hire you for this every night, I would."

"You already have me, Yura. For everything," he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the soft curve between her shoulder blades.

His hands worked lower, easing the knots from her shoulders, her upper back, then along her spine to her waist. Each pass left her looser, more pliant, until her limbs felt boneless. The faint scent of the oil—herbal and clean—mingled with the salt of their sweat.

As he moved over her hips and thighs, the massage grew slower, more sensual, his hands sliding between her legs, kneading the flesh of her ass, then the tops of her thighs. Yura moaned softly, her arousal quickening again—her hips rising to meet his touch.

He pressed a kiss to the small of her back, hands gliding along her sides, then down to her lower back, working the oil in broad, soothing circles. Her skin glowed, flushed and glistening.

"Turn over," he whispered, his voice a velvet promise.

She obeyed, rolling onto her back, meeting his gaze—her eyes full of trust and need. He continued the massage, working her shoulders, collarbone, and chest, pausing to cup her breasts, thumb circling her nipples until they peaked, drawing another gasp from her.

Yura reached for him, pulling him down for a slow, searching kiss. Their bodies pressed together, his cock sliding along her slick folds, both of them shivering at the promise of another joining.

But Joon-ho took his time, never rushing, always attentive—fingertips gliding over every inch of her, mapping her anew. He slid two fingers between her legs, finding her already soaked, ready for him. He teased her, circling her clit until she writhed, her breath coming in short, needy bursts.

"Please, Joon-ho... I need you," she whispered, voice trembling.

He positioned himself at her entrance, eyes locked on hers. He pushed in slowly, savoring the moment, letting her feel every inch as he stretched her open again.

She gasped, hands clutching his back, legs parting wider to take him deeper. He settled inside her, hips flush to hers, and for a moment they just breathed together—connected, whole.

Then he began to move—slow at first, long, measured strokes that built in intensity. His hands never stopped roaming her body—tracing her sides, cupping her breasts, fingers tangling in her hair.

She arched up to meet him, their rhythm unhurried but powerful, the bed rocking gently beneath them. Every thrust pushed her higher, every touch sparking another jolt of pleasure.

He leaned down, lips finding hers, swallowing her moans. She tasted herself on his tongue, the tang of oil and sweat and sex.

The pleasure crested in slow, rolling waves—Yura shuddering, crying out, clutching him tight as her orgasm took her again, her body convulsing around him.

Joon-ho felt her walls squeeze him, felt himself nearing the edge. He gripped her hips, thrusting faster, deeper, his own control slipping as her climax drew him over the brink.

With a guttural moan, he spilled inside her, hips stuttering, face buried in her neck. They shook together, breathless and spent, tangled in a haze of sweat and love.

He rolled to his side, pulling her close, his cock slipping free, sticky and soft between them.

Yura giggled weakly, brushing hair from her eyes, her cheeks flushed. "You keep going like that, and I really will have to ask if you’re trying to get me pregnant."

Joon-ho laughed, nuzzling her shoulder. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I just can’t get enough of you."

She pouted, poking his chest. "Just so you know, I blame you for any consequences."

He kissed her forehead, solemn. "I’ll take responsibility for all of it."

She melted into him, sighing contentedly, her body finally relaxing—muscles boneless, nerves soothed, heart steady. The city lights danced across the ceiling, painting both their faces in soft, shifting gold.

Outside, the world churned on, but inside this room, they found a sanctuary—a place where nothing mattered but each other, where every fear and worry could be soothed away by a touch, a kiss, a whispered promise in the dark.

Sleep stole over them at last—slow, inevitable, sweet. Yura murmured his name one last time, half-asleep, and Joon-ho held her closer, vowing silently to never let her go.