Work Text:
Jisung grips the edge of the bathroom sink like it’s the last thing tethering her to this plane of reality. The neon pink glow of the overhead light warps her reflection. She looks like a hallucination of herself: cheeks flushed, pupils blown, lips bitten. Horrible lighting for a bathroom. It feels like she took a tab of acid and it’s just about to kick in.
She’s sober. Mostly. Half a drink shouldn’t have her this unbalanced. It was pretty strong, to be fair.
She cups a hand around her mouth to check her breath. Pineapple. Rum. Cherries.
She digs in the pockets of her oversized leather jacket for a piece of gum but comes back with a fistful of loose receipts.
It’s fine.
They shared the drink, so they should taste the same.
Ha!
The thought of tasting Minhee makes her stomach swoop. Fuck.
She’s not sure how she managed to pull a girl like Minhee. Sheer dumb luck. Right time, right place. Pity, probably. Jisung can make people feel sorry for her if she widens her eyes a little. She doesn’t usually go around rizzing people up. She mostly just says “skrr” and panics. Hyunjin says it’s off-putting. (But what the fuck does he know, when she said skrr at least three times on their way to the bar and Minhee still wants to—)
Anyway, she needs to leave this bathroom soon, before Minhee comes looking for her. Or worse, before Minhee decides she can do better and leaves.
She can do this. She’s seen Minhee naked.
Her stomach swoops again.
Okay, that didn’t help.
She runs both hands through her hair and stares hard at herself through the mirror.
How did she get here?
*
*
*
“Come with me! Please? This is a big deal, Jisung.”
“You really want me to meet your friend for the first time while she’s naked?”
Hyunjin stares at her blankly. Kind of like a fish Jisung saw at the market once. A Red Snapper. His hair color matches and everything.
“I thought you liked naked women,” Hyunjin finally says. “That’s like your whole thing.”
“Wow,” Jisung says, mouth full of cheesecake. The cafe buzzes around her. “Is this biphobia?”
Hyunjin flicks her forehead.
“Ow.”
“You make it sound like we’re going to a strip club,” Hyunjin plows on, completely ignoring her very valid question. “Which we already did for your birthday last year, so I don’t see what the problem is.”
“I don’t have a problem!” Jisung defends herself. “I just think it’s a little weird that you want me to look at your friend’s pubes before dinner.”
“I never said anything about her pubes.”
Jisung licks her fork clean. “Is this like a kink or something?”
“What? No, you little freak.” Hyunjin tosses a napkin at her. “I told you, she just fully recovered from a hip injury and I want to support her.”
“But she’ll be… naked.”
“She’ll be nude. ”
“Okay, Mr. Art School.”
“You say that like you didn’t take art as an elective for three years straight.” He reaches for Jisung’s half-eaten cheesecake and swipes a bite before she can stop him. “It’s a two hour session. Pack up your pencils, we’re going.”
Jisung doesn’t want to go, but Hyunjin books the figure drawing class right in front of her. So much for free will.
It’s not that meeting Hyunjin’s naked friend truly bothers her. Most of Hyunjin’s friends have flashed her in one way or another over the years. (The life of a tattoo artist is full of nudity, apparently.)
In truth, Jisung’s been in a rut. A slow, sticky one. Music, writing, art—none of it is flowing as easily as it used to. And that’s fine. Whatever. She doesn’t mind rotting in peace until inspiration strikes. She likes it that way. Forcing creativity when she’s uninspired only serves to drain her further.
Especially when it comes to drawing. She’s self-conscious about it. It’s more of an indulgent hobby than anything serious. Compared to Hyunjin, she feels like a kindergartener with a fistful of crayons. She can draw cartoons and cool shoes, and if she has a good reference photo she can pull it off, but drawing from life is completely different.
But the number one reason she doesn't want to go has to do with her unfortunate history with life drawing classes point blank, and she’ll deny it should anyone ask.
Hyunjin knows this. But if she brings it up as a legitimate reason not to attend, he’ll laugh in her face.
She should’ve been prepared back then. She knew what she was getting into when she chose drawing as an elective. But when a man stepped onto the platform that first day in a knee length robe and promptly dropped it to his feet, Jisung reacted like a thirteen-year-old boy.
She just wasn’t expecting the abruptness of it, that was all. She had slammed a hand over her mouth right after the shocked laugh escaped, but the damage was done. The only reason she wasn’t kicked out on her ass was because Hyunjin vouched for her. That, and she had almost fallen to her knees apologizing. (Her patheticness is an actual super power.)
And so, properly chastised, she was allowed to stay. She was placed dead center in front of the platform as if in penance.
She wasn’t totally eye-level with full-frontal-dick, but it was close enough. And, for whatever reason, she couldn’t look away. Maybe it was because she had only ever seen one other dick in real life before, like some mythical creature from tales of old.
Flustered and not entirely confident in her drawing abilities, she didn’t know what to focus on once they finished gesture sketches and moved on to a longer pose. She accidentally put way too much detail into the poor model’s penis. Trying to cover it in shadow only made it worse somehow. She tried hiding her drawings from the instructor as she mosied around the room, but it was futile.
“Interesting focal point,” the instructor had dryly commented. Jisung really hadn’t meant to make enemies with her.
Hyunjin had burst into laughter when he leaned over to take a peek at what she’d done, and Jisung had rolled up her drawings before the class officially ended so she wouldn’t embarrass herself further. She swore that she’d never step foot into a figure drawing class ever again.
Meeting a new person on top of all this? A naked one? She’d rather shotgun peanut butter.
Alas.
She isn’t given much time to stew on it. A few days after Hyunjin voluntells her to go, she finds herself seated on a drawing bench in a room full of artists much more qualified to be here than she is.
The studio is spacious, with high ceilings and tall windows lining one wall. Industrial lights hang from the exposed beams above, casting a steady glow as the sun fades into evening. The concrete floor is scuffed, speckled with old paint and charcoal dust. The air smells like pencil shavings, fixative, and old paper—nostalgic. A little dry.
Easels and drawing benches are arranged in a loose semicircle around a raised platform, draped with neutral fabrics, wrinkled and shifted slightly from what must have been an earlier session. Hyunjin’s friend will pose there soon. Naked.
Eventually.
She’s late, whoever she is.
Jisung sets up her drawing station meticulously in the meantime: newsprint clipped to her drawing board, pencils sharpened, charcoal lined up, kneaded eraser warm and soft in her fidgeting hands.
People in Hyunjin’s social circle are always cool as hell. Too cool, one could argue. Which could explain why Jisung’s stomach kind of hurts. It’s natural to feel some pre-meeting jitters. Jisung has made social blunders in the past—asking inappropriate questions, letting conversations fade into awkward silences, trying too hard to be funny to the point of cringe. She can’t help but want to entertain, even if she has to force it.
She just… can’t help herself. She wants to be liked, even if that means overcompensating. Even if she has no idea who she’s trying to impress.
She doesn’t know anything about Hyunjin’s mysterious friend other than that she’s a dancer that injured her hip. Is she older? Younger? Is she nice, or does she have one of those untouchable personalities that’s overwhelming to be around? It’s 50/50 when it comes to Hyunjin.
Maybe it’s worse. Maybe Jisung’s the problem. Maybe Hyunjin is ashamed of her.
Or—opposite end of the spectrum—Jisung is too awesome and Hyunjin’s friend will wilt under her charming magnetism.
The possibilities are endless. She made an entire list in her Notes app that afternoon before reluctantly peeling herself off the couch to give Hyunjin a ride.
The studio door creaks open, louder than it should for something that heavy. Jisung glances over automatically, driven by that unshakeable impulse to observe anyone new entering a room.
She double takes.
Drops one of her pencils.
The woman who hurries in looks like she sprinted here. Matching hoodie and sweatpants rumpled, duffle bag over her shoulder. Her hair is caught in a lopsided claw clip, loose strands sticking to her forehead, damp with sweat. Her skin glows pink over high, delicate cheekbones.
Jisung’s heart launches into her throat.
Is that Hyunjin’s friend?
The woman bows quickly in apology, hands pressed together, murmuring to the instructor. She gestures toward an open office door, and the instructor nods. Without another word, the woman disappears into the room, shutting out the class behind her.
Jisung looks down to find her kneaded eraser ripped in half. Fuck knows where her pencil went. She twists around looking for it, knocks over a stick of vine charcoal, and watches it snap clean in half on the floor.
Okay. Focus.
It’s just life drawing.
Objective. She can be objective about this. Mature, even.
“Was that Minhee?” Hyunjin swivels around on his drawing bench. “Did she look okay?”
“What? Um…” Jisung scrambles to collect her supplies and almost rolls off the bench too. “She looked, uh—”
“Why are you all over the place?”
Jisung straightens, clutching a handful of broken charcoal with a black smudge now stretched across her white shirt. “I’m not,” she lies.
“Get it together. You’ve got stuff on your face already.”
Jisung gets it together long enough to conveniently fall apart again shortly after.
The office door clicks open, and Minhee emerges in a pink silk robe that ends mid-thigh. She strides across the studio, pausing to slip off a pair of gray Crocs before stepping onto the platform. The silk clings to her in ways that make Jisung’s brain stutter like a faulty car engine. (Objective and mature!) It’s cinched tight at the waist, revealing just enough of Minhee’s body to have Jisung both craving and dreading the outcome of this evening.
Minhee’s gaze skims the room. The corner of her mouth lifts when she spots Hyunjin. He wiggles his fingers. She rolls her eyes.
Then her attention drifts lazily to Jisung.
She blinks, pretty lashes fluttering.
Jisung’s breath catches, heart rate and blood pressure rising.
“Alright, everyone,” the instructor says, oblivious to the crisis Jisung is currently experiencing. “Minhee is our model today, so let’s make her feel welcome.” She turns to Minhee. “Is the temperature okay?”
Minhee blink, blink, blinks and breaks eye contact. Her ears are a little pink where they peek out from behind the hair framing her face. “Yes, it’s comfortable. Thank you.”
“Great. We’ll start with short gestural poses for a warmup and end the session with a longer standing. Sound good?”
“Is a mix of open and closed alright?”
“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Minhee nods and slowly begins to undo the knot at her waist.
Jisung stares unblinkingly like she’ll miss the creation of the universe if she looks away.
The robe slips off and—are those angels singing? Not to be dramatic. When Minhee lifts her arms to fix her hair clip, the muscles in her back and shoulders flex like a Greek statue come to life. No, a Greek goddess . The only sign that she’s human are her ears deepening into a brighter shade of red as she settles into her first pose, but her expression remains impassive.
Jisung is not okay. Minhee could strike her down right now and she would thank her for it.
She tries not to ogle. She tries really hard. This is Hyunjin’s friend. His secret friend? He’s never mentioned a Minhee. Or if he has, Jisung doesn’t remember. Was he hiding her? Did he not think Jisung could handle it?
She can’t handle it, but that’s beside the point.
She doesn’t know where to look. Fuck, should she be looking? Is it weird if she doesn’t?
Hyunjin kicks her shoe. She startles and clamps her mouth shut, checking her chin for drool. Fumbling for the nearest pencil—or charcoal, or literally anything—she tries to catch up, already behind.
Gesture drawing, as she soon discovers, is a good distraction from the inappropriate thoughts assaulting her frontal lobe. The fifteen second poses demand too much focus for a meltdown, and not enough time to linger on the finer details of Minhee’s body.
As the intervals stretch to three minutes, then five, her heart rate finally levels out.
Minhee’s poses are dynamic. She’s graceful, precise, and can hold still in a way that implies a toe-curling level of strength Jisung courageously doesn’t dwell on.
She cycles through classic standing poses and lunges, muscles flexed and firm. She moves to a seated position after the thirty-minute mark, each new stance a personal attack.
Jisung tries to stay objective and mature as Minhee settles on top of a pillow, reclined, with her arms above her head. For free? It’s too sensual for an audience. Is Jisung the only one feeling hot around the collar?
Draw me like one of your French girls, she thinks helplessly.
She bites her lip and tries to concentrate. Not on how Minhee’s thighs squish together, or the soft fold of her belly, or how comfortable she looks laid out on the stage with a steady flush across her nose and cheeks. No, no, none of that. Jisung focuses on lines. Curves. Form.
For a few minutes, she manages to pull it off.
Graphite dragging across paper. Quick shading. Negative space. She forgets she’s drawing a real, live, naked woman. A real, live, naked woman who is also Hyunjin’s friend . Someone she’ll have to talk to and interact with at some point.
Halfway through the class, the instructor calls for a ten minute break, and Jisung can finally breathe.
Minhee slips on her robe. She steps off the platform to grab a cup of water and a handful of trail mix. Jisung tries not to track her every move, tries to be casual and indifferent. But she is none of those things, and she fails spectacularly.
Their eyes lock again.
Jisung freezes like a prey animal. Heat crawls up her neck. She probably looks guilty as hell.
Minhee makes her way over.
“Hey, Jinnie,” she says. “You came.”
“Of course I did, noona. How’s your hip doing?”
Minhee shrugs, takes another sip of her water. “Better. Almost feels like I’m doing yoga up there.” She glances down at Jisung, who is still awkwardly perched on her drawing bench. “And who are you?” she questions with a purr.
Jisung stares up at her with wide eyes. Minhee is even more breathtaking up close. Jisung could cry. She clutches her knees and tries not to vibrate into the sky.
“This is Jisung,” Hyunjin says, cutting through any tension Jisung’s silence may have created. “Haven’t I told you about her?”
Minhee licks her bottom lip, thoughtful, leaving it shiny like candy. “I feel like I’d remember.”
Jisung’s stomach swoops low. Too low to be appropriate in public. She wants to squeeze her legs together, but the drawing bench makes that physically impossible. She feels too exposed. Open and pliant to Minhee’s gaze.
“Yo,” she manages, with a stilted wave.
Yo?!
Minhee purses her lips to hide a smile. “You have charcoal on your face.”
Jisung immediately rubs her cheeks against her forearm, mortified.
And just like that, Minhee is back on the platform, taking her time to get resettled. She makes sure Jisung is watching before her hands go anywhere near her belt.
When she drops her robe, it feels intentional.
Jisung’s mouth runs dry.
This is so much worse than a strip club, actually.
“Contrapposto,” the instructor announces. “A classic pose. Think the Statue of David, or the Birth of Venus. You will have forty-five minutes. Capture as much detail as you can. Focus on form, as well as negative space. I want to see head to toe. Your time starts… now.”
The lights lower to create a spotlight. Minhee blinks down at Jisung as she moves into position, at ease like Venus de Milo herself and just as monumental. Her claw clip keeps her hair up to ensure every inch of her softly muscled frame is visible. Shadows cling to her contours, defining and deepening the dips and curves of her body. She rests her weight on one leg, hip cocked, arms lifted like an offering.
She winces slightly, but stays still.
Jisung’s hands shake as she gets the initial lines down. The curve of a spine. The opposing tilt of hips and shoulders. The gentle swell of breasts and lower belly. The faded scar high on her abdomen. The V-line of her hips leading towards—
The pencil slips from her grip.
She regroups to wipe her palm on her jeans. When she focuses once more, Minhee is smirking at her like she knows exactly how much she’s struggling. Jisung has literally only said ‘Yo’ to this woman, but it feels like Minhee can already peer into her most secret thoughts.
Jisung avoids Minhee’s face, redirecting her attention to something safer. Like her neck. Or her thighs. On getting the shading right. On trying to capture the subtilties of tension and relaxation. On the press of skin against skin. Would Minhee feel soft squeezed beneath her hands? Or—
Nope.
Hyunjin’s friend or not, it’s a wild thought to have about a figure model.
She gets halfway through shading the bend of Minhee’s knee, her hand finally steady, when Minhee shifts, subtly adjusting her weight. The curve of her hip changes.
Jisung’s pencil jerks mid-line. She glances up. Minhee is still watching her, eyes half-lidded.
She’s never wanted to fall to her knees and prostrate herself at someone’s feet more in her life.
There’s nothing overtly sexual about Minhee’s pose. There shouldn’t be. Body parts are body parts, shapes and shadows to be examined and replicated. But…
Maybe it’s the way Minhee hasn’t looked away.
Minhee may be nude, but Jisung feels naked. Like she is the one on display. Being studied and dissected.
Her self-depreciating side says Minhee is simply looking in her direction because they’re facing each other. She has to stare at something for forty-five minutes.
But the louder, hornier side of her brain is convinced it’s because Minhee wants her carnally.
Either way, by the end of the session, Jisung is sweating through her shirt.
The lights click back on. The instructor calls out the time. Low chatter fills what was once empty space. Hyunjin stretches and cracks his back beside her, yawning like he didn’t just create an absolute masterpiece. Jisung stares dejectedly at her own drawing, wrung out.
“I’m gonna take a lap,” Hyunjin says, hopping off his bench to snoop around before everyone cleans up.
Jisung wipes the graphite from the side of her palm on her jeans.
Nerves aside, today wasn’t a complete disaster. Despite the ungodly amount of nervous sweating she’s endured, it felt good to create something again. To get messy and utilize the mental muscles she thought had atrophied.
She’s mid-mental bicep curl when a voice speaks behind her.
“Can I see your drawings?”
Jisung jolts, whipping her head up. Minhee is right there, safely tucked away in her robe, head tilted like a cat flexing its claws, ready to bat a mouse around.
Of course Minhee wants to see. It’s her body. She has every right to view Jisung’s interpretation of it.
But confronted so directly, Jisung feels like her skin has been turned inside out to show off all the soft parts underneath.
Timidly, she shifts aside so Minhee can see what she’s done.
Minhee takes her time, flipping through the large sheets of newsprint, regarding each sketch. Jisung may not be as good as Hyunjin, but she’s always liked drawing people. Characters. Faces. Her lines are too bold in places. Too stylized. It’s mortifying to show Minhee how she views her. Like a peephole into her soul. There’s no hiding how enamored she is already.
Minhee smiles softly, seemingly pleased as she returns to the bottom sheet of paper to view Jisung’s final study. “You made me look prettier than I am.”
Jisung swallows and manages a jerky nod. “You—I mean you are. Pretty. You look—uh...” She bites the inside of her cheek before she can wax poetic. Then she laughs, champagne bubbles in her veins. She fights the urge to curl away or squirm.
Minhee’s smile doesn’t fade. If anything, she locks in even more.
“You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Minhee observes, voice low and amused. “And messy too.”
Jisung’s fingers curl against her thighs. “I’m—”
“You still have something on your face.”
Jisung grabs the collar of her shirt to scrub blindly at her cheeks, but Minhee beats her to it, brushing a spot to the left of her bottom lip with the pad of her thumb.
Jisung’s nervous system flounders somewhere between fight, flight, fawn, and holy fuck .
The silk of Minhee’s robe brushes her bare arm as she leans closer. She points out something she likes about Jisung’s drawing, but Jisung doesn’t hear. Can’t look away from her face. She’s right there. The freckle on her nose. Her perfume—warm, floral, so enticing she finds herself leaning in before she can stop.
“Did you go to art school?” Minhee asks.
“Oh, no, I’m not—” She catches herself and pulls away. “Not exactly. I just draw for fun sometimes.”
“You’re really good.”
Jisung doesn’t hide her face behind her hands no matter how hot it may feel, because she’s a brave little toaster and Minhee deserves all her attention. “I’m not.”
Minhee stands straight again, looking down at her through hooded eyes. “You are, though,” she repeats. “You’re good.”
Oh no.
Has Minhee clocked her this easily?
Jisung swallows hard. “Thank—thank you.”
Minhee hums in response, smoothing out her robe. “I should probably get dressed.”
Right. Yes. Minhee is still basically naked.
She leaves Jisung to change in the instructor’s office, bringing the tension with her, gutting Jisung with its absence.
Fuck.
Jisung starts cleaning up her supplies slowly, rolling up her drawings. Her palms are soaked. She wipes them on her jeans twice.
This is so stupid. She barely knows Minhee. Why is she crashing out? Because she saw her boobs? Her very well-endowed, probably soft, heavy—
"Why do you look like you just ran a 5k?"
Hyunjin, back from his rounds.
Jisung slams her pencil pouch on the bench and points a shaky finger at him. "You! You never told me Minhee was the most beautiful person on the planet. What the hell, man."
Hyunjin holds a hand to his chest dramatically. "I wasn't keeping her a secret. She’s one of my dance noona’s. I’ve definitely mentioned her before."
“No, you haven’t!”
“I have. You just tune out whenever I talk about my interests, because you have the attention span of a house fly.”
Jisung’s jaw hits the floor as Hyunjin turns away to pack up like he didn’t just insult her and all of her ancestors.
“Who hurt you?”
“Sung,” Hyunjin sighs. “You need to chill out. Also, can you do me a favor and ask Minhee if she wants to join us for dinner?”
“Why can’t you do it?”
Hyunjin bops her on the head with his paper roll. “Because I’m not the one who made heart eyes at her for two hours.”
Jisung fumes after Hyunjin sneaks outside for a cigarette, and fumes further still while she waits awkwardly off to the side while Minhee changes. It’s too cold to stand around outside. The rest of the class files out gradually, and she gives a little nod to each person as they pass by her for the door.
Minhee emerges from the instructor’s office fully clothed, hair down and wavy. Jisung lifts a hand to get her attention.
“Oh, hey.” Minhee maintains a neutral expression as she makes her way over and pauses directly in front of her. “You’re still here.”
Jisung clutches her roll of drawings too tightly. “Yeah. Hyunjin’s outside. I, um… Are you joining us for dinner tonight?”
Minhee tilts her head. “Do you want me to?”
Jisung blanks. She feels more exposed than if she’d stripped down to her briefs.
Minhee’s gaze doesn’t falter as she waits for an answer.
Jisung opens her mouth. Closes it. She considers crawling under the platform and making a home there.
“What’s taking so long?” Hyunjin interrupts, leaning against the studio door to keep it open, drawing supplies and paper tucked under his arm. “Are you guys coming or what?”
“Yeah,” Minhee says, still focused. “Do you want me to come, Jisung?”
Jisung’s next breath leaves with a heavy stutter. Why did she have to word it like that ?
Her fingers twitch at her sides. “Yeah,” she says, somehow keeping her voice even. “I want you to… come.”
Hyunjin groans and rolls his eyes. He mutters under his breath, something to the tune of, This is why I never introduced you two, and takes off for Jisung’s car without them.
***
They settle on a nearby diner—one of those chrome-trimmed, neon-lit places that smells like burnt coffee and fried everything. The red vinyl booths are cracked in places, the laminated menus sticky at the corners. It’s late enough that the servers look half-dead, and the overhead lights are too bright for Jisung’s comfort.
Minhee slides into the booth like she owns it, draping her arm along the backrest. Jisung sits stiffly across from her, trying not to stare at the hollow of Minhee’s throat where her hoodie dips low. Hyunjin seats himself next to her and bumps their elbows together.
“So, did you like it?” Hyunjin asks around a French fry after they’ve settled in and ordered.
Jisung freezes like she’s being called out—
“Being nude out in public again,” he adds.
“You can’t just ask someone if they like being naked in public,” Jisung mutters, deflating.
“It’s nude. ”
“You’re mom’s nude.”
Minhee snorts and taps a paper straw against her upper lip. “I felt a little stiff towards the end,” she says, ignoring their squabble. “But I liked it.”
She takes a slow sip, gaze locked on Jisung.
“And I don’t mind being watched.”
Jisung swallows. What a specific way to word that.
“It’s extra income,” she continues. “And not everyone can do it. Being naked in a room full of strangers isn’t easy.”
“See!” Jisung nearly jumps out of the booth. “Naked!”
Minhee snorts again. Hyunjin buries his face in his hands.
Jisung settles down and clears her throat. “I couldn’t do that. The, uh, naked part, but also standing still without falling over.”
“Mmm. It’s hard,” Minhee says, eyes drifting down Jisung’s body from across the table. Appraising? Jisung shifts in her seat. “Takes a lot of endurance to hold one position for that long. But I’ve got stamina.”
I fucking bet you do.
Jisung bites her tongue.
Minhee leans forward, arms crossed in front of her now. “I could train you. If you wanted.”
Jisung exhales slowly. “Train me?”
“Mhmm. To hold still. Take direction.”
Jisung fidgets, dinner forgotten. “What kind of directions?”
Minhee teases a fry on her plate. Slips it between her lips. “Where to put your legs. How to distribute your weight so it doesn’t hurt. Moving how and when I tell you to.”
Jisung crosses her legs. “Yeah?”
“I cried after my first time. But it gets easier.”
A confusing rush of heat and sympathy rolls through her. The thought of Minhee in tears is awful, but the way she says it hints at something else. Jisung decides to take it at face value.
“Was it really that bad?” she asks softly.
Minhee sits back, suddenly serious. “I got too in my head about it. I don’t like… being vulnerable.”
“I think you’re perfect,” Jisung says, too earnest.
Minhee blinks. Jisung immediately backpedals into a spiral.
“Uh—I mean—not in a weird way. Not that my opinion matters. You’re just, like, super brave and cool and I—fuck, um—”
She takes an aggressive slurp of her soda and coughs as the fizz burns all the way down.
Minhee watches her struggle with a soft smile.
“Smooth,” Hyunjin says.
She jumps.
Fuck. She forgot he was there. He’s never going to let her live this one down.
After Jisung collects herself, Minhee says, “I think you’re brave too.”
Jisung flushes and taps her nose with the back of her hand. “Thanks, Minhee-ssi.”
Minhee snorts. “Call me unnie. You’ve seen my pubes. I think we’ve gone past formalities.”
Are we soulmates? Jisung can’t help but wonder.
When they step outside with leftover-filled styrofoam containers, the neon “Open 24 Hours” sign buzzes faintly above them, casting a red and blue glow on the sidewalk. Inside, the hum of conversation rises with the late-night crowd, pushing them out like a tide.
Hyunjin lights another cigarette, cupping the flame. He smokes because he says it makes him look mysterious and artistic, but mostly Jisung thinks he does it because he’s incredibly dumb.
“I’m heading out,” he says, blowing a stream of smoke off to the side. “Client in the morning. You two can carry on without me.”
Jisung hesitates. She doesn’t want the night to end, but she was Hyunjin’s ride across town, so... “Do you need a lift home?”
“I don’t mind taking the bus. You should—” He motions around them. “Continue whatever this is.”
Jisung hunches into her jacket. Hyunjin is a decent wingman when he wants to be, even if he hoarded Minhee like a toy he didn’t want to share.
“Have fun!” he calls over his shoulder, already halfway down the block. “Don’t stay out too late! Wear protection. Text me when you get home… Or not!”
“Shut up, oh my god.” Jisung just catches herself from stomping her foot.
Hyunjin cackles as he turns a corner. Out of sight, but his laugh lingers.
Jisung is left alone with Minhee for the first time all evening. No human buffer or artistic distractions. She collects herself before turning to face the older woman. She takes a breath to say something, but Minhee speaks first.
“Wanna get a drink?”
Jisung releases a relieved whoosh of air. “You read my mind.”
“Excellent.” Minhee holds out her hand. “I know a place.”
The night air is cool, but Minhee’s hand is warm when it closes around hers.
***
The interior of the bar is dark and closed in, red strip lights lining the ceiling. It’s completely empty, minus the bartender wiping down various surfaces for the night.
Jisung fiddles with the menu at the counter. She’s in the mood for something sweet. But she’s driving, so nothing too strong. She doesn’t trust herself to keep her cool if her inhibitions are annihilated by a single cocktail.
“Pick whatever you want,” Minhee says from beside her. “I’m paying.”
“But—”
Minhee fans out three crumpled twenty dollar bills like she’s playing poker. “I’ve got that modeling money.”
Jisung fights back a surprised laugh. “Unnie! Put that away. You’re going to get mugged.”
“I can fight.”
She makes the claim with a straight face and Jisung believes her.
“Can we share one?” Jisung offers.
Minhee shrugs and lets Jisung pick.
They settle on a fruity monstrosity—two kinds of citrus, three plastic swords, and an entire wedge of pineapple with a cherry on top. It’s more garnish than drink, but Jisung doesn’t mind the extra snacks.
And, contrary to Hyunjin’s warning, they stay out late—late late—both straddling a bench at an outdoor table so their knees touch. Large, colorful string lights hang from the rafters and wrap around wood posts. Music fills the silence from an outdoor speaker, connected to the jukebox inside. The wooden tabletop is sticky where Jisung rests her hand which somehow makes her more self-conscious.
They aren’t completely alone, with one other couple occupying a couch on the other side of the patio, but it feels secluded. Private.
Jisung shivers, from the evening chill and the ice in their drink after she takes a long, nervous pull from the tiny cocktail straw. She settles into her jacket, bunching her shoulders up as if that’ll help and not make her neck hurt later.
Minhee watches her, blank-faced for the most part, but with the tiniest quirk at the corner of her mouth.
“Are you cold?” Minhee asks.
Jisung shrugs. “A little.”
Minhee scoots forward on the bench until her thighs press around Jisung’s. Heat radiates from where they’re connected.
“Better?” Minhee tenses her quads, squeezing Jisung against the seat.
Jisung nods and takes another sip.
“So… How long have you known Hyunjin?” Minhee prompts.
Hyunjin is the last person she wants to talk about right now, but he is their common denominator.
“Since university,” Jisung says. “We didn’t get along at first. He was in one of my art classes and was kind of a huge asshole.”
Minhee laughs. Jisung’s chest swells at the happy sound.
“Did he try to tell you what to do?”
“What is it he said…” Jisung muses. “Something like, ‘Draw better. You’ll never be a manga-ka. Stick to your day job.’ Or something close. I wanted to kick his ass.”
“But now you’re friends.”
“Now we’re friends.” She swipes at the condensation dripping down the side of the cocktail glass. “How do you know him?”
Minhee presses their thighs together in short pulses. Just enough to be distracting. Jisung stops herself from latching on to both of them and squeezing. Or from crawling on top of her like a lap dog.
“He was in a dance class I TA’d for,” Minhee says. “He thought I was hitting on him every time I corrected his form. You should have seen the devastation on his face when he found out I was a lesbian.”
“Wait.” Jisung perks up. “You’re the hot TA noona he’d let peg him from sunup till sundown?”
So, Hyunjin really did tell her about Minhee afterall. Maybe she does have the attention span of a house fly.
Minhee splutters. Her laugh goes from a snort to something unhinged. “He said what?”
Jisung’s skin thrums from how delighted Minhee looks: Hair a little wild. Cheeks pink from more than the cold.
“Oh, I’m definitely going to remember that,” Minhee says, taking a small sip from their drink. She lets her hand rest on Jisung’s thigh after setting the glass back on the table. A zip of electricity lands right behind Jisung’s pelvic bone.
“My girlfriend at the time would have gotten a kick out of that.”
Jisung’s stomach drops a little. “Girlfriend?”
Minhee softens her smile and presses her thumb into Jisung’s inner thigh. “Ex.”
“Oh.” Her leg jumps when Minhee starts rubbing circles. “That’s… good.”
“Mmm.” Minhee digs her nails into the denim slightly. “Are you seeing anyone?”
Jisung shakes her head.
“Good.”
They fall quiet, enjoying the peace that comes from staying up past everyone’s bedtime. The cocktail straw is shared between them, indirect kisses Jisung tries not to go feral over. Conversation veers toward broader topics—favorite movies, weird dreams, worst injuries.
“The worst thing that happened to me was almost getting eaten by a crocodile,” Jisung says. “But that was ages ago.”
“I’m surprised. Didn’t you trip about ten times on the way here?”
Jisung knows she’s joking but she’s not far off.
“What’s your worst, then?” she asks, recalling the moment Minhee flinched on the platform. “Your hip?”
“Ah, yeah. Tore my labrum,” Minhee says, tipping her head back. “Front split landing. Heard the pop and everything. Worst sound of my life.”
Jisung makes a face. “Oh my god. When did that happen?”
“Seven months ago. Six of those were PT appointments. I had to sleep in this god-awful brace and couldn’t sit cross-legged for ages. I was sure I was done. The joint still clicks sometimes.” She stretches her arms over her head, then shakes them loose. “But I’m still here. Still bendy.”
So bendy.
Minhee smirks, like she heard.
Did she say that out loud?
“Does it still hurt?” Jisung asks to save face.
“Only when I overdo it,” Minhee says. “Which is often.” She picks at the seam of Jisung's jeans. “I have no impulse control.”
Jisung tries not to tug at her collar like a flustered cartoon character.
The mood shifts again with the help of overly-sweetened alcohol, taken in minuscule sips to prolong the evening, and is becoming increasingly difficult to finish without nose-diving into a tropical garnish. Their conversation swerves into the absurd the later it gets.
“If you could be a bug,” Minhee says, “what bug would you be?”
Jisung doesn’t hesitate and ticks off her fingers. “Bumblebee. Round. Loud. A little fuzzy guy. Harmless unless provoked.”
“I can see it,” Minhee says. She drags her teeth over her bottom lip. “I’d be an orchid mantis.”
“Because you’re elegant and poised?”
“So I can wait in flowers to eat little bees.”
Jisung sputters, nearly knocking the cocktail glass over. “Not my brethren! You’re evil.”
“Not evil. Opportunistic." Minhee grins and leans in close. "What am I to do when a tasty little bee comes to me? Probably full of nectar, desperate to be devoured?”
Jesus.
She’s done for.
Minhee feeds her the pineapple slice once their drink is reduced to dregs. A line of juice escapes down her chin which Minhee swipes away with her thumb and a mumbled, Messy. She sucks the rind clean of what Jisung doesn’t finish.
It’s all too much, really.
Jisung grows jittery from the warmth of Minhee’s thighs still caged around her own. She tries to manage her nerves by watching the same couple from earlier engage in a level of PDA that borders on public indecency. They’re the only four people out on the patio, but still. God damn. They’re really going at it.
“Do you think they’re having an affair?” Minhee asks.
Jisung coughs. Then laughs. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“Dunno. They look like they’re my parent’s age but don’t have rings on their fingers.”
“You’re just saying that. How can you see their fingers from here?”
Minhee keeps her eyes on the couple as she pops the last maraschino cherry into her mouth. “I can’t.” Her smile spreads as she chews. “Do you want to make out after this?”
“Huh—” Jisung coughs. “Wha—?”
Minhee looks over at her, lips red from the cherry.
“You heard me.”
Tingles explode in her stomach.
And between her legs.
Jisung excuses herself to the bathroom before she makes a scene.
Which, as previously mentioned, entails her white-knuckling the counter whilst trying not to crash out.
Minhee is so hot. And a huge fucking flirt. There’s no way she’s into Jisung, right?
This is not the outcome she expected for tonight.
Her heart rabbits, pulse going so wild she can feel it in her fingertips. She gives herself a pep talk through the mirror. She can do this. She’s hot too. Her eyeliner’s only kind of smudged. Her lips are exfoliated. Minhee is just a hot woman who’s apparently into hot bumblebees. That’s a category Jisung fits in. Skrr. They’re two hot babes sucking on fruit at a bar with plans to make out in her car. She’s so chill about it.
She needs to leave this bathroom before she passes out and hits her head on the toilet.
So she adjusts her clothes. Slaps her cheeks. And makes her way back outside.
The table is cleared off by the time she returns. The couple who may or may not be having an affair are still tonguing each other. Minhee is watching them with an amused smirk, twirling one of the plastic sword garnishes between her fingers idly.
Jisung stops at the end of the table, fidgeting with the loose scraps of paper in her pocket. She tries to sound as nonchalant as possible, shrugging like her entire stomach isn’t knitting itself into a sweater. “So, um. We making out now or…?”
“Psyched yourself up, huh?”
Jisung flushes.
Minhee giggles, not unkindly. “Let me use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” She stands, slightly taller, and knocks Jisung’s chin up with her finger. “Then we’ll see just how good you are at taking directions.”
Jisung blacks out for exactly three seconds. She comes to with the cocktail sword between her fingers and absolutely no idea how it got there.
Cool, cool.
She’s not going to make it through the night.
***
The cabin of the car is dim, blanketed in shadows and quieted breaths. Headlights outside pass intermittently through the windows, casting fleeting golden streaks across the dashboard before vanishing again into darkness. Everything feels hushed—like the world has narrowed to just the space between them.
The air inside is warm and slightly humid from their breath and the proximity of their bodies. The edges of the windows are beginning to fog with condensation. Jisung’s jacket lies crumpled in the back seat with Minhee’s duffle bag, their dinner leftovers, and her drawings, all long forgotten.
The engine is off, but the stereo glows faintly, playing a low, pulsing song—something slow and intimate from a late night radio station, the kind of music that fills the silence without needing to be heard. It makes the smack of their lips parting and Jisung’s needy mewling less embarrassing.
They had talked at first, not looking at each other, face-forward as the manufacturers of Jisung’s car intended. Minhee had held out her hand for Jisung to play with as the younger rambled. Slightly tipsy musings and the nervous anticipation of a first kiss with someone new.
The second Minhee leaned in across the center console, Jisung shut up. Everything vanished—fine motor skills, the ability to remember her dog’s name, the assurance that she actually left the car in park so they don’t go rolling down the street.
Finding a comfortable position is difficult in the beginning, but all tension dissolves into the heat of each silky kiss. Minhee’s fingers curl into the fabric at Jisung’s waist, drawing her close. Jisung tugs on the collar of Minhee’s hoodie, skims over the nape of her neck, cups her jaw to feel it move. There’s a quiet urgency in the way they taste each other, the slight creak of the seats beneath them, the sound of fabric shifting as their hands explore. Their noses bump. Minhee laughs into the kiss, and it breaks for a moment—then resumes, deeper this time.
Underneath the diner grease that clings to their clothes, Minhee smells amazing. Sweet, indulgent. Her skin is soft, her tongue slick and warm. Jisung whimpers into her mouth, quivering with every gentle suck and pull.
And she was right. They taste the same.
Pineapple. Rum. Cherries.
Minhee’s hand trails from her waist down to her thigh, right above the knee. Jisung tries to spread her legs, but the driver’s seat has her trapped between the console and the door.
“Mmm.” Minhee sips at her lips. Her hand doesn’t move, but it’s a hot brand where it rests. Jisung clutches Minhee’s shoulder and makes a pathetic sound that has Minhee grinning against her cheek. “What’s wrong?”
Jisung shakes her head, gasping. “I want—fuck, I want you to touch me. Feel like I’m going crazy.”
“Oh?” Minhee drags her hand up Jisung’s inner thigh, stopping midway, and kisses the corner of her mouth. Just once. “Here?”
“Uh-uh.”
She moves higher, pausing so close to where Jisung wants her to be. Her lips tickle as she moves to place a kiss on Jisung's jaw, her neck. “Here?”
“No, Min—”
Her palm cups her through her jeans, index and middle fingers dragging slowly along the seam. Jisung rolls her hips and gasps, head falling back as Minhee sucks a mark onto her skin.
“Here?” Minhee asks, pressing in. Jisung has been so turned on for so long she must be soaked through by now. Minhee must be able to feel it.
“Yes—yes, right there,” she pants.
Minhee kisses her on the mouth again, deeper this time. Tongue and teeth. She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even have to look as she slowly undoes the button of Jisung’s jeans, as she pulls the zipper down and sneaks past the denim.
Jisung jolts at the first touch.
She yanks on Minhee’s hoodie to bring her closer, to somehow merge into her. Minhee’s breath shudders against her lips, as if she’s barely holding it together herself.
“Fuck, you’re so wet," Minhee hisses. Her fingers massage over the soaked mess of Jisung’s briefs, over and over, wrist tugging at the opening of her jeans as she moves. “Just from kissing me?”
Jisung nods, bringing their mouths together firmly, letting out tiny moans as Minhee plays with her clit over sopping fabric. A single digit presses into her hole over the barrier. A tease. Her knees start to close as she tries to hump up against Minhee’s hand.
“Spread your legs for me,” Minhee breathes. “Be a good girl.”
Jisung whines but does as she’s told. She braces her left foot on the dash beside the steering wheel and tries to spread herself wide. Minhee slides her hand past the band of her underwear and sucks in a sharp breath, slipping over Jisung’s clit, already swollen and sensitive from the constant flirting.
She’s dripping. She can feel as more gushes out of her at Minhee’s bare touch. She rests her head on Minhee’s shoulder, closes her eyes, and breathes heavily as her pussy is stroked.
“Oh my god,” Jisung mewls.
“Yeah? Feels good?”
“So—” Her hips kick up, knees coming together again. “Good. So good.”
“Careful,” Minhee says. “Watch your knees.”
Jisung checks and finds her knee dangerously close to the horn. She spreads her legs again, hitting up against the window. It’s completely fogged over now, comically so. God, anyone would be able to tell what they’re up to if they were to walk by.
A zap of pleasure shoots up her spine, makes her leg twitch, and she forgets all about public decency.
“Lower,” she murmurs weakly. A little pathetic, but effective.
“Lower?” Minhee teases, voice a hushed murmur. “You want me inside, jagi?” Her fingers glide down, the tip of one briefly dipping inside before circling around again. “Or do you want my mouth?”
Jisung nods, agreeing to anything, everything. She drags her lips across Minhee’s neck in a messy kiss. “I want it. Please? Inside?”
Minhee shivers. Then, she slides inside.
Jisung’s eyes roll.
“Like that?” Minhee curls her fingers just right, nudging her palm down, tugging pleasure from every nerve ending. “You like when unnie fucks you?”
“Fuck, fuck, unnie, yes. ”
She can’t believe this is happening. In public, in her car, with a woman she barely knows. Can’t believe someone so beautiful and fearless is touching her like this, whispering dirty things into her ear. It was only a few days ago that Hyunjin had to twist her arm into going to the life drawing class in the first place. Would she have met Minhee otherwise?
Their kisses turn filthy, open mouthed, just breathing into each other, both distracted. Minhee pumps her fingers before fluttering against her g-spot, repeating the pattern until Jisung sees spots.
The pressure builds, heat coiling and spreading. Her face burns at the sloppy sounds her pussy makes as Minhee fucks her full. She can feel the precipice nearing, muscles clenching like a metronome. She’s never come this fast before. She’s so close, so—
HOOOONK.
They both freeze.
Jisung panics and slams her knee against the window, away from the horn. She swivels her head around to check out all the windows, pulse frantic. From what she can see through the dripping haze of the interior, the street is empty.
“It’s okay, no one’s looking,” Minhee murmurs, kissing behind her ear. Jisung relaxes into it. “That’s my girl.”
Oh.
Her pussy throbs at the praise.
Minhee resumes fingering her until she’s writhing again, thighs shaking as she tries to stay open. She bites down gently on Minhee’s neck, trying to muffle the broken sounds pouring out of her. Her hips roll uncontrollably, Minhee’s forearm tensed as she strokes deep inside and circles Jisung’s clit with her slick palm. Her stomach clenches. She pants, barely aware of what she’s saying. Right there, right there, right there—
When she comes, it hits her in waves from her core, rhythmic pulses gripping around Minhee’s fingers. G-spot orgasms always hit different—when she manages them—but this is something else. She sobs against Minhee’s neck, helpless, riding each crest as her entire body shakes.
Minhee coos, gently coaxing more out of her. She stops when Jisung’s knees come together again. She holds her there, firm but gentle, until Jisung whimpers and tries to wiggle away—her clit stinging and hot, body spent.
Minhee pulls her fingers free. Scissors them apart to show off Jisung’s slick and sucks them clean. Jisung watches, dazed, eyes glassy with lust.
“Holy fuck,” Jisung says. “You’re so hot.”
Minhee giggles. “No, you are.”
Something needy and reckless possesses her. Before she can stop herself, she blurts, “Can I eat you out?”
Minhee blinks. Her ears go red. “Yeah.”
Minhee pushes the passenger seat all the way back to make room. Jisung climbs over the console (clumsily, but not enough to hurt herself) and kneels at Minhee’s feet, hunched awkwardly like a gremlin. Her legs still feel weak, but she’s determined. She helps tug Minhee’s track pants down her thighs in the limited space. They laugh, trying to maneuver around without elbowing each other or the door. She tosses the pants somewhere in the backseat with the rest of their stuff.
Minhee pauses. She lifts her hoodie over her soft stomach, higher, up to the smooth underside of her breasts. The streetlight paints chiaroscuro across her thick thighs as she scoots to the edge of the seat and spreads them wide. Shiny with arousal and dusky pink between. Jisung foams at the mouth.
“Eager, are we?” Minhee teases as she runs her hands slowly up and down her own body. Jisung nods hard enough to pull a muscle in her neck. “Come here then.”
Jisung goes. She holds Minhee’s powerful legs open and dives right in to French kiss her pussy. She hears Minhee’s hip click as she’s repositioned, but she doesn’t complain. Arms wrapped around Minhee’s thighs, Jisung uses her thumbs to spread her open further, settling in to kiss and lick her clit like a pauper pleasing her queen. Drool and salty slick drip down her chin.
Minhee runs her fingers through Jisung’s hair to keep it off her face. Her hold tightens and releases, massaging her scalp. Her back arches when Jisung sucks. She pushes her hips harder against Jisung’s mouth, letting out airy moans and praise.
Jisung glances up through her lashes. Minhee’s cute upper lip is pouted out, bunny teeth showing through her open mouth, looking down the straight bridge of her nose. Her wispy bangs stick to her forehead with sweat. She’s so ethereal. Is this what heaven looks like? What it tastes like?
She rubs the flat of her tongue against Minhee’s hard little clit. Lets her ride it with precise, effortless body rolls. She’d be good with a strap, Jisung thinks, and moans at the possibilities. Hyunjin was onto something.
“Mmm, messy eater,” Minhee gasps. “Didn’t think… You’d want this.”
“Mhmm,” Jisung agrees blindly with her mouth full.
Wet sucking sounds drown out the faint drone of the radio. She points her tongue and licks inside just to feel Minhee clench around her. Minhee’s breath hitches, and then she laughs in what could be disbelief. “Fuck.”
Jisung tries to lick deeper, using her thumb to gently slip over Minhee’s clit.
“Fuck , Jisung—with that mouth—and those hands,” Minhee pants, “you think you could draw and fuck me at the same time?”
Jisung whines. She squeezes her thighs together for any miniscule amount of friction she can get. It’s really not a bad idea. She’s feeling very inspired right now. The most she’s felt in a long time.
“You can keep your eyes on me, right?” Minhee purrs. “Look how good you’re doing already.”
“‘m good,” Jisung says directly into her cunt.
Minhee’s moans become more staccato, higher. She cradles Jisung’s head and allows fuller rolls of her hips. Jisung holds tight, letting Minhee ride her face, licking like she’s starving, like this is all she’s ever wanted.
Minhee’s thighs tremble around her ears, breath catching with every pass of her tongue, every flick, every suck. She’s so close—Jisung can feel it in the way Minhee’s movements start to stutter, how her grip tightens in her hair, how her voice slips higher when she gasps, “Fuck— Jisung. Don’t—don’t stop.”
Jisung has no intention to stop. She could do this forever. She hums low against her clit, messy and eager and devoted, holding Minhee open like a master painting she can’t stop studying. Like a song she can’t stop playing. Her new muse.
Minhee comes with a gasp and a silent moan, her whole body clenched and curled forward as she rides it out. Jisung licks her through it, slower now, gentle.
They both breathe heavy in the quiet aftermath, the steam on the windows a hazy cocoon around them. Jisung slumps over, resting her cheek on Minhee’s thigh with a dopey grin.
“Was it good?” Jisung asks, already desperate for more praise.
Minhee swipes her thumb across Jisung’s messy chin. “Of course it was, baby girl.”
Jisung melts. She might actually cry. She’s never wanted someone’s approval this intensely before.
“Can I do it again?”
Minhee giggles. “Yeah. Maybe not here though.” She pops her thumb in her mouth to suck it clean and Jisung almost creams herself. “We should go to my place. Pretty sure I made eye contact with someone.”
Jisung pulls back so fast she hits her head on the dash with a sharp thud.
“Oh! Oh no.” Minhee pulls her up and rubs the back of her head. “I was kidding.”
“Don’t do that,” Jisung cries. “I’m going to have nightmares about people looking into my car now.”
Minhee laughs, legs curled around her waist to give her a full body hug. “No, no, I’m sorry. It’s past midnight. Most people are asleep in this area.” She kisses Jisung’s cheek. Wipes her face with her hoodie sleeve, then kisses her on the mouth. “How many times do I have to clean you off today, hmm?”
“A couple more, probably.”
“Need me to take care of you?” Her tongue flicks against Jisung’s lip.
Jisung has more to say, but now she’s distracted with making out again. It occurs to her that Minhee’s pants are still off and her stomach dips. She grips her thighs close to her ass, fingers sinking into fat and muscle, unbelievably horny again.
Jisung breaks their kiss, dazed. “You said your place?”
“Yeah.” Minhee gently bites her lower lip and pulls back until it pops out. “I want you to sit on my face. Then I’ll sit on yours. We can go from there.”
She’s calling out of work tomorrow.
“I love you,” Jisung blurts, then ducks her head when she bursts into a heavy blush. “Sorry.”
Minhee laughs, good natured. “I’ll accept it. As long as my brothers approve.”
Jisung hides her face in Minhee’s boobs.
“Brothers?” she echoes, muffled against Minhee’s chest.
“Mhmm. They’re very selective. They’ll probably make you work for it.”
Jisung leans up to kiss Minhee again, melting against her.
“I like the sound of that.”
Floating on a cloud of contentment, Jisung decides life drawing classes aren’t so bad after all.