Archive of Our Own

It was snowing when Nakyum finally made it out of the E-mart, laden with shopping bags and entirely sure she’d forgotten something. It was too late to go back and check now; the list her unnie had written was extensive but Nakyum thought she probably had most of the essentials, the baby food and milk and eggs and a canvas bag stuffed with winter vegetables. She could run back tomorrow morning for anything else, and anyway Heena was forgiving and would probably only giggle and shrug about whatever was missing.

She was readjusting her grip on the bags, trying to bump the one on her shoulder slightly higher so it wouldn’t slip down on the walk home, when she noticed somebody’s headlights flashing on the far side of the parking lot. There was a black car in the corner with no lights on that she would’ve guessed was unoccupied, if not for the blink of the headlights. Two short bursts in a row, flash flash, like someone was sending her a coded message across the asphalt.

Nakyum hesitated. Back in the city she would’ve walked away immediately, head down, anxious at even the possibility of somebody wanting to speak to her. But in her hometown it was likely to be someone she knew, maybe one of the older women who used to babysit her when nobody else was free, wanting to say hello but too weak now to get out of their car and brave the snow. She re-shouldered the heaviest shopping bag and headed toward the lights.

As soon as she moved in their direction, the lights stopped flashing. She could see that the car’s windows were tinted, and she started to feel a faint sense of foreboding. Who in this tiny town would bother with tinted windows? When she was close enough, the passenger side window slid down with an electrical whirr, but the car’s interior lights were off and the streetlights were obscured by the snow so Nakyum had to lean down and squint, tension seizing her gut, to see who was inside.

Seungho’s amber eyes glinted in the dark.

“Ah -” Nakyum said. “Ah - it’s - ah -”

“Hello,” Seungho said. She had pushed the passenger seat all the way back so it was more like a lounge chair, her feet kicked up on the dash. “I like your new hair.”

“It, um,” Nakyum said dumbly. “It got in my face.” Her short hair wasn’t actually all that new; she had cut it all off years ago, in her first year of art school, and now she topped it up once every few months with a pair of scissors in her bathroom, snipping away the longer tendrils without caring much for uniformity. But Seungho hadn’t seen her since long before that.

“You’re not dressed for this weather, though,” Seungho told her.

“I just got here today,” Nakyum said. “It’s not this cold in Busan.”

“No,” Seungho agreed. She looked bored with the conversation already, eyes darting back to the door of the E-mart, probably looking for whoever was driving her car. “What brings you to the mountains?”

“Christmas,” Nakyum said. “My family invited me.”

She’d wanted to see Heena at Chuseok but it was impossible to get out of Busan, all the flights and trains booked up weeks before and too expensive to consider anyway. (Secretly she had been hoping Jung Inhun might travel back from America for the holiday, spend a week visiting her family and maybe find the time for a lunch or coffee with Nakyum in between, but she found out from social media than Inhun was speaking at a conference in Philadelphia that weekend and had no time to come home.)

Nakyum spent Chuseok alone in her one bedroom flat designing websites for low-paying clients and eating yakgwa from a box, riding the sugar high to keep her working until she crashed with a headache into her unmade bed. But she was making up for it now, using the national holiday to make the most of her residual work leave and spend five days up in the mountains where she’d spent the majority of her teenage years.

“I didn’t realize your sister was living here again,” Seungho said. Her voice was flat and careless.

“Unnie didn’t want to raise her kids in the city,” Nakyum said.

“How noble,” Seungho remarked. She hadn’t sat up or removed her feet from the dashboard, her legs as long as ever and clad in black leggings, heather grey hoodie with dangling strings and a navy rain jacket pulled over the top. As a teenager Seungho had mostly worn men’s linen pants and buttoned shirts, overdressed in a way that would’ve looked ridiculous on any other girl, anyone without Seungho’s broad shoulders and menacing demeanour. She had to wear the same uniform as everyone else at school, of course, but the tie and checkered skirt looked like a costume on her, something she’d thrown on for a bitter joke. She always changed out of it within five minutes of the last bell ringing.

“Are you visiting family too?” Nakyum asked, because Seungho hadn’t said anything else but hadn’t gestured that she could leave either.

“No.”

Nakyum’s brow furrowed. She couldn’t think why else Seungho would be here, especially now in the middle of winter when the town was dead and empty of life. Seungho was now looking actively away from her, gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance, hands hidden in the pockets of her hoodie. She must be 27 by now, maybe 28. An adult. Well, maybe she was just here on a minibreak trip. Maybe she was - lots of people spent Christmas with their partners, so maybe Seungho had brought someone home to see where she grew up, some pretty girl from Seoul with an immaculate jawline and infinite patience and a tranquil, not-annoying never-whining voice to curl up with by the fire in her family’s extravagant living room. Nakyum glanced back at the E-mart again, trying to remember if she’d seen anyone particularly beautiful inside. Instead she only saw Mr Kim, the Yoons’ groundskeeper, shuffling through the automatic doors and wheeling a striped trolley bag along behind him. He spotted Nakyum at the same time she recognized him, and he tilted his head, as if unsure whether to interrupt whatever conversation Seungho was having. Seungho made an irritated noise and hit something on the dashboard, making the headlights flash again, and Mr Kim resumed his hurried shuffle through the snow. Seungho hit another button and behind them the trunk of the car popped open.

“We can drive you home, if you like,” she said. “Is it the same house?”

“Yes,” Nakyum said, “but, no, no, you don’t need to. It’s not far, I can walk it fine.”

“You’re not even wearing a hat,” Seungho said.

“It’s a five minute walk.”

“Not with the entire supermarket on your back.” Seungho nodded at the shopping bags that were currently cutting deep lines into Nakyum’s hands and shoulders. “But fine, I won’t beg you. See you around.”

“Wait -” Nakyum said, panicking as the window started to roll back up. Seungho paused, one eyebrow going up, and her eyes might be deeper than they used to be, the hollows beneath them might be darker, but with that expression on her face ten years ago could’ve been yesterday. Nakyum knew that she didn’t want anything at all to do with Seungho, not anything, but the idea of cutting the interaction short just like that stung at her, and she couldn’t let it go that fast, not without at least knowing what Seungho was doing here.

At first Mr Kim mistook her for Jihwa, which got a hooting laugh out of Seungho, although she didn’t care to explain herself. Nakyum repeated her name, reaching out to shake his hand, and when she said it he nodded slowly but there was no sign of recognition on his face. He shrugged and said she’d better put her bags in the trunk before the snow got much worse.

Nakyum sat in the backseat and waited for them to ask her address, but instead Seungho said, “Head north. I’ll direct you.” Mr Kim grunted in response and started the car. Seungho finally slid her feet off the dashboard and flipped her seat up straight. Her hair was still long, Nakyum noted, and tied in one neat braid that disappeared into her hoodie. When they were teenagers Seungho had her own car, smaller than this one, and nobody else was allowed to drive it, not even Jihwa. Nakyum was rarely even allowed the front seat, always relegated to the back beside Min who could generally be counted on to be drinking something and spilling it over herself, pushing it insistently at Nakyum until she agreed to take a sip.

But now Seungho sat on the passenger side with her arms crossed and said nothing. Mr Kim drove achingly slow, inching down the main road with the wipers losing their battle against the snowflakes piling on the windshield. Nakyum was no closer to resolving the mystery. It wasn’t that strange for Seungho to spend Christmas away from her family, but it was strange for her to be here, and not even with a pretty young thing by her side. When she thought of Seungho, which really wasn’t very often, she imagined her in luxury tableaus torn out from a catalogue; ski lodges, private planes, skyrise restaurants, glamorous parties and hot tubs and VIP service and all the rest. Hoodies in a small town did not fit the profile.

“They didn’t have any beef left,” Mr Kim said. “I’ll make something with the leftover fish.”

“Whatever,” Seungho said. “Did you get the booze?”

“Yes,” Mr Kim said, with an edge to his voice that suggested disapproval.

“How long are you visiting for?” Nakyum asked, hoping it wouldn’t seem like she was eager to meet up. It would be good to know when Seungho was leaving. It would make it easier to avoid her until then.

But Seungho glanced back at her, mouth pulled into a line that was dangerously straight, and said, “I live here.”

“Oh, I -” Nakyum startled, stopping just short of saying I’m sorry. “I didn’t know.”

“Why would you,” Seungho said flatly. Nakyum knew that she didn’t require an answer. Seungho directed Mr Kim left, into the maze of side streets where Nakyum’s old house stood. Several houses had Christmas lights in the windows, red and green and blue icicles and golden snowflakes. Back when they knew each other, Seungho’s father would order her to spend Christmas Day inside catching up with her schoolwork and if Nakyum saw her at all it would be at the end of the day, long after sunset. She would pull up with Jihwa and Min on their way to a party or a drinking session and lean on the horn until Nakyum came scurrying out, not caring that she was waking up the whole street. Nakyum would always have given up on seeing them by then and be in her sweatpants or pajamas and a big parka coat and sliders, slipping across the snowy grass and stuttering something like, “I’m not dressed properly!” or “I wasn’t expecting you!” and Jihwa would scowl, “Don’t come, then,” and Nakyum would hurry into the car.

Mr Kim didn’t speak for the rest of the drive and neither did Nakyum. Seungho’s directions led them to Nakyum’s sister’s house. The snow was piled up in the driveway; they would have to shovel tonight, if they wanted to be able to open the door in the morning.

“Thank you for-” Nakyum began, but Seungho cut her off.

“Do you remember where I live? My father’s place?”

“Of course,” Nakyum said. As if she could forget. It was the biggest house in the whole town. The four of them had spent enough nights there, drinking and listening to music and making fun of Nakyum’s flushed cheeks, goading her into taking hits on their pipe that made her hack and cough and feel woozy so she had to go and lie down in Seungho’s bed, head reeling. She’d wake up an hour later to the sound of them playing video games sprawled on the floor of Seungho’s room, and sometimes Seungho’s hand would be wrapped around Nakyum’s ankle where it was poking off the edge of the bed, a friendly but still somehow threatening gesture, like she didn’t want Nakyum to forget who she was with, even in her dreams.

“Come up and see me while you’re here,” Seungho said.

Nakyum shook her head but said, “When?”

“Whenever,” Seungho said. “I’m always home.”

It wasn’t easy being friends with Seungho and Jihwa and Min.

They were all in the year above her, and they were cruel and rich and they had bad reputations, and they didn’t seem to really like Nakyum, except to keep her around as a pet and sometime-servant. They recruited her by accident; Min had grabbed her by the elbow in passing, and ordered her to distract the school librarian while they snuck Seungho out of detention.

She shoved Nakyum through the doorway without giving her time to prepare. The librarian eying her coldly over her spectacles. The sound of Jihwa and Min scuffling out in the hallway. Fucking say something Min hissed at her, and Nakyum had been so flustered she started crying. It was as good a distraction as any; while the librarian attempted to console her they whisked Seungho away, and when Nakyum left the school ten minutes later, dabbing her red eyes with a tissue, the three of them were waiting for her on the front steps.

Nakyum was a transplant, sent to this town after passing through a series of foster homes until her unnie finally had the income and home life necessary to take care of her. She didn’t know anyone at the high school and until Seungho’s gang came along she could spend whole days without speaking a single word. Trailing around after them at school was better than trailing around on her own and the other kids stopped picking on her once she started sitting with Seungho at lunch. Not that Jihwa and Min didn’t pick on her too, but at least with them she knew where the insults were coming from, and there weren’t as many nasty surprises; if she could see the blow coming she generally had time to duck.

For the first month Seungho barely spoke to her, despite all of Nakyum’s attempts to ingratiate herself. She tried to be as gracious and unobtrusive as possible, asking polite questions, offering helpful advice, laughing appreciatively at all of Seungho’s sly asides, even the ones at her own expense. Seungho didn’t seem to appreciate these efforts. But at the same time, she knew Seungho wasn’t ignoring her; she got used to the prickle in her shoulders, the uneasiness in her belly that meant she was being observed; got used to darting her eyes across the table and catching Seungho watching her, entirely unselfconscious, never looking away even when Nakyum held her gaze.

One day during the rainy season there was flooding across town and the school was closed, so they spent the day at Jihwa’s place drinking. The air was sweltering, the sort of humidity that felt like a weighted blanket. Jihwa had fallen asleep in her beanbag chair and Min had gone off to call some girl from Daegu she’d met online and so Nakyum was sitting in the window seat with her arms wrapped around her knees, watching raindrops hammer the fat green leaves and the wooden roofs of the town, mouth hanging slack and head clouded with alcohol (she was new to day drinking and had not yet learned to pace herself). She had a dim awareness that Seungho was watching her, silent across the room, but as she was working up the courage to look over, Seungho said, “Come here.”

Nakyum stumbled on the way over, realizing once she stood up how drunk she actually was. Seungho was sprawled on the floor with her back against the couch and Nakyum knelt beside her, tried to cross her hands neatly in her lap and keep her spine straight. Seungho picked up the plate of pancakes Jihwa’s cook had sent up, broke off a piece and held it up to Nakyum’s mouth.

“You have to eat to soak up the alcohol,” Seungho said. “Did no one ever teach you that?”

The pancake was crisp and still warm, fragrant with scallions, and as she placed it in Nakyum’s mouth the rough pad of Seungho’s fingertip brushed Nakyum’s tongue. Seungho watched her chew and swallow. Seungho didn’t look drunk at all, even though they’d had the same amount - they were drinking low proof Makgeolli and it was only Nakyum who really seemed to be affected. Later her memories would be foggy and she would struggle to recall exactly how it happened. She just knew she’d ended up straddling Seungho’s lap, with Seungho’s thumbs pressing into the divots in her lower back, Seungho pulling her so close that the tips of their noses were touching and murmuring, “Min doesn’t think I can corrupt you, but I’m not sure I agree.”

There was a break in the rain a few hours later and Nakyum toddled home down muddy garden paths, with her mouth bitten pink and an unfamiliar and urgent feeling between her legs, skin burning with the memory of Seungho’s hands on her.

It wasn’t always just the four of them. Sometimes they took her to cool parties with older kids and didn’t try to pretend they didn’t know her, Min ruffling her hair and handing her a beer, saying that’s Nakyum, she’s thick as a brick but don’t hold it against her. The parties were still anxious ordeals for Nakyum and she often drank so much she got sick, throwing up in the bushes and then returning to the group and wiping her hand sheepishly across her mouth. Jihwa would roll her eyes and demand to know why they let the little brat even come to these things, and Seungho would say for the entertainment.

If Nakyum was feeling strong she’d have another beer but more often she’d give up on the party and steal the keys from Seungho’s jacket, go and sit in the car and wait with her heart in her throat until Seungho came and found her. Clicking open the door, sliding in beside her, tugging on her sweater until she turned her head and then they’d be kissing. Nakyum never knew what to do with her hands but that was okay because Seungho would push them above her head, ruck her shirt up to her armpits, bite her tits in a way that made Nakyum whimper and complain and that left red indentations across her skin. She was always worried that Min or Jihwa would interrupt them, but they never did.

Sometimes Seungho would wait around for her after school, already changed out of her uniform, sending Jihwa off to take the bus and herding Nakyum into her car, waiting until they were cruising down some back country road to pull Nakyum’s hand into her lap, make her feel the bulge of the dick Seungho was wearing beneath her clothes. Parking in a sheltered lay-by and tapping her thigh until Nakyum gulped down her nerves and climbed into Seungho’s lap.

Afterward Seungho would drive her home without speaking much, Nakyum wrung out and exhausted and just barely presentable in her rumpled school uniform, her tie still looped around Seungho’s rear view mirror like a trophy and her inner thighs damp and hot. Seungho wasn’t chatty but the mood in the car wasn’t awkward either. Nakyum was too sleepy for awkwardness and Seungho too satisfied, her mouth curling up at one corner.

It was never explicitly stated that Nakyum’s place in the group depended on the nights spent with Seungho. It wasn’t like Seungho was obvious; Nakyum was never Seungho’s girlfriend. They didn’t hold hands at school or call each other sweet names. But Seungho developed a habit of making out with Nakyum extravagantly at parties, or keeping Nakyum on her lap during their movie nights, big hand splayed on Nakyum’s waist and chin hooked over her shoulder while Jihwa glared at them from the other end of the couch and Min rolled her eyes from the floor

Sometimes if it was a scary movie Nakyum would get frightened and tense, threading her fingers through Seungho’s and squeezing her hand for comfort, and Seungho would wait until the quietest and most suspenseful point to lean forward and nip Nakyum hard on the ear and make her squeak, digging her teeth in the more Nakyum tried to shake her off. Nakyum would be distracted from the ghosts or zombies onscreen enough that the spell of the movie was utterly broken and she could spend the rest of the night leaning back and barely watching, eyes heavy lidded and aware only of Seungho’s movements beneath her, shifting her hips, slipping her hand up under Nakyum’s shirt to stroke her belly.

Jihwa always scowled at every giggle and sigh Nakyum let slip, but Min said indulgently, Let unnie have her fun.

Because Seungho was the unofficial leader of the group it was impossible for Jihwa to do anything more than make annoyed little huffs and occasionally trip Nakyum up in the hallways when they were alone. And a lot of the time Jihwa still got the attention that she craved from Seungho, if not the respect. Jihwa always rode shotgun to Seungho when they were driving around together; Jihwa always got the first swig of wine from their shared bottles, the first hit of the pipe and the first choice of snacks. All of these were things Nakyum didn’t care about much, but Jihwa clearly derived her sense of self worth from them and had a habit of tipping her nose up at Nakyum in triumph as she accepted them.

Over time Nakum did notice allowances made to herself, too, permissions silently offered to her that were not extended to Min or Jihwa. Seungho sometimes got bored waiting for Nakyum to finish her homework and ripped it off of her, finished a page of equations that would’ve taken Nakyum an hour in ten minutes or less. Once or twice Seungho let Nakyum drive her car in a slow loop around an abandoned parking lot, instructing her on when to turn and brake and laughing every time Nakyum panicked and stalled, leaning over to reposition her hands on the steering wheel. Nakyum was the only one allowed to sleep in Seungho’s room, when Jihwa and Min were relegated to guest rooms in another wing of the Yoon mansion.

They had to be careful that Seungho’s family didn’t find out, but her parents were almost never there, spending most of their time in Seoul where their company’s headquarters were, only returning for short trips on the weekends and holidays. Nakyum always dreaded their visits; not because she was afraid of seeing them - she was always swept neatly out of sight long before they arrived - but because in the lead up to their arrival Seungho would be gloomy and cheerless, teeth gritted whenever she talked, and then she would disappear for three or four days with no contact and no updates. Jihwa and Min were often invited up to family dinners but Nakyum was a footnote, an afterthought, and it wasn’t like they called her up afterwards to share any gossip. Days of loneliness and boredom, trapped in her bedroom with her sketchbook and stolen bottles of liquor and Heena wondering aloud at mealtimes if Nakyum was feeling sick, why she wasn’t going out with her friends this Saturday night as she normally did.

Once her parents had left again Seungho would return as if she had a point to prove. Eighteen years old, furious, reckless, her braid whipping out the window as she drove too fast down Nakyum’s street in the early morning and pushed her horn imperiously, tapping her hand impatiently on the wheel as Nakyum scrambled to get her school things together. She’d hurry out with her satchel hooked over her shoulder, her blazer on inside out and yesterday’s socks on because she hadn’t had time to find a clean pair, and climb into the car only for Jihwa to announce we’re not doing school today and for Seungho to rev the engine, hit the gas before Nakyum could even try to jump out, and drive them to the rocky bluffs outside of town.

Min would line up glass bottles and the three of them would take turns shooting them down with a BB gun and downing beers to supplement the bottles they’d already destroyed. Nakyum would sit anxiously on a boulder and pretend to read her textbook and wonder how they were going to get home if everyone with a driver’s license was already wasted, even though she knew Seungho was going to drive anyway, too fast and careless on the corners. If she was unlucky they would go on to Jihwa or Min’s place to continue the party, and Seungho would drink more than both of them combined but never lose that hard, steely expression or say more than a word or two in passing to Nakyum.

On better days Seungho would get bored of the others after an hour and herd everyone back into the car. She’d drive them back into town and then park somewhere central, normally outside the supermarket, and say, “Get out.”

Jihwa would still be protesting while Nakyum unclipped her seatbelt, and Seungho would say, “Not you, Kyum. The rest of you can leave.”

Once Jihwa had been disposed of, Seungho would gesture for Nakyum to climb through into the passenger seat. She would look her in the eye for the first time all day. She would grab Nakyum by her ponytail, fingers twisting painfully in her hair, and say, teeth glinting, “Did you miss me?”

Nakyum knew not to do as Seungho asked. She knew visiting was a terrible idea, and what’s more, she didn't want to see Seungho again. She didn’t associate many good feelings with Seungho; there was no joy in those memories, no delight. And in the car Seungho had been as cold and inscrutable as ever. She always made Nakyum feel so boring, as if there was some act Nakyum was supposed to be performing and she had forgotten all the most important lines. But it was curiosity, in the end, that got the better of her. There were too many unanswered questions, about why Seungho was here, about why she wanted to see Nakyum at all, about what she was like as a person now. Nakyum resisted the pull for one long night and half a morning, but by lunchtime the next day she was pulling on her boots and hat and announcing in the hallway that she was going out to take some sketches of the snowy mountainside, and that she’d be home in time for dinner.

She walked slowly up the hill to Seungho’s house, trying to pick out the safest route. The house was only really intended to be approached by car; there was no footpath, just a gravelly road that was covered with a fresh layer of snow. A new gate had gone up around the perimeter - before there had just been a low brick wall, more for decoration than anything, but now there was a tall iron railing stretching across the entire entryway and a buzzer with a camera fixed on whoever was at the door. Nakyum hit the button before she could second-guess herself, and there was a crackle and then the high pitched drone of the gates swinging open. No voice, no words. Nakyum hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should just turn around and go home. But she was freezing cold, her toes like ice blocks in her boots, stinging in her cheeks and the tips of her ears. She could just go inside and warm up and say hello and then leave again. Seungho would probably kick her out after ten minutes anyway.

She braced herself as she mounted the marble steps and the front door creaked open, ready for Seungho’s cruel eyes to fix on her, but instead Mr Kim nodded at her graciously. His expression was unreadable - not pleased to see her, but not surprised either.

The house was somehow bigger and smaller than she remembered. It used to seem impossibly huge, with hallways that stretched away into nowhere, all the hidden rooms and wings that Nakyum was not permitted to visit. But now it seemed dark and empty, with barely any signs of life inside. Most of the rooms they passed were empty, and what furniture there was had been draped with white dust sheets. The blinds were pulled on all the windows and the hallway lightbulbs were bare. Mr Kim led her deeper into the heart of the house, until they reached the study.

It was a room Nakyum had never seen before. She remembered Min talking about breaking into the study to steal booze from the cabinet, but they never brought Nakyum on those missions because she was too much of a liability, preferring to leave her waiting anxiously in Seungho’s room with her ear pressed to the door. But now the study was open and there was a fire burning in the hearth. Low, dreamy light poured from the lamp on the desk, and a slippered foot was kicked up over the arm of the sofa.

Mr Kim went in first and said, “Your friend is here to see you.” No honorifics, no pleasantries. Nakyum flinched; Seungho used to be a stickler for hierarchy and had penalized a servant more than once for addressing her informally. But there was only a lazy, oh, is she, and then Mr Kim stood aside and gestured Nakyum forward.

Seungho was lounging on the couch with her feet up in a navy blue bathrobe, thick with velvet lining around the collar. There was a golden tie knotted loosely around her waist and she didn’t seem to be wearing much underneath; Nakyum could see the V of her cleavage where the gown fell open, her smooth skin, her hair in the same braid as yesterday, more disheveled now. She looked like she’d spent the night there by the fire, but despite her outfit and pose there was still something immaculate about her, something planned, like this was exactly how she wanted to appear before Nakyum. Mr Kim helped Nakyum out of her coat, hanging it in the corner, and slipped away without another word.

Seungho waited until the sound of his footsteps had faded, observing Nakyum without sitting up. Finally she said, “Drink?”

“What?”

“We don’t have anything stronger than wine, I’m afraid.”

She gestured at the cabinet in the corner; it was open, with empty bottles scattered on the floor around it.

“No, thank you,” Nakyum said.

“No,” Seungho repeated, and smiled a little. “You can’t really hold your alcohol, can you? How about some sweets? We might have some chocolate in the pantry.”

“It’s fine,” Nakyum said. She had the cold feeling that Seungho was mocking her. “How have you been?”

Seungho shrugged. “Since yesterday? I’m fine. Why don’t you come here and sit down?”

And she swung one leg down, tapping at the sofa cushion with her heel. The sofa was not full size; it was half as long as Seungho’s body, the sort of thing you only keep in your study to fall asleep on if you’d worked too hard to drag yourself off to bed. There would be no way to sit on it without landing much closer to Seungho than Nakyum had any intention of being. Nakyum glanced around for another seat, but there was only the big velvet chair behind the desk, which it would’ve been ridiculous to take. When she turned back to Seungho she was met with narrowed eyes and a dangerous grin.

“Are you still scared of me?” Seungho asked.

Something caught in Nakyum’s throat. “N-no.”

“Just shy?”

That certainly sounded better than fear. Nakyum nodded - just once, a brief jerk of her head, but Seungho nodded as if it was a clear invitation.

“I can work with shy.”

She stood up suddenly, moving too fast for Nakyum to anticipate her. In three strides she had crossed the room and taken Nakyum’s chin in her hand, tilted her head up until she was forced to meet Seungho’s eyes. It was the first time they’d properly faced each other in a decade. Nakyum had forgotten how big Seungho was, broad shouldered and muscled where Nakyum was stringy, narrow. Nakyum had been scrawny and short in high school and even though she thought she’d filled out a little, new curves in her chest and a few extra inches in her height, Seungho still engulfed her frame. Now she was studying Nakyum’s face, curious and up close, and she smelled of smoke and velvet, firelight bouncing off her jaw.

“Even with your new hair,” she said, “you look exactly the same.”

She held Nakyum still and kissed her, trapping Nakyum’s lower lip between her own and pressing until Nakyum’s mouth fell open and Seungho could swipe her tongue inside.

Seungho made a low, pleased noise in her throat and raised her hand to Nakyum’s cheek, forcing her mouth open wider like she was chasing the taste of Nakyum’s spit. As a teenager Seungho’s kisses had been rough and possessive, heavy with teeth, biting hard on Nakyum’s lower lip, but now she seemed more interested in getting inside and making a claim.

It was the first time anyone had kissed Nakyum in almost a year. Seungho’s tongue tickled the roof of her mouth and she squeaked, eyes still wide open, and Seungho paused just long enough to shush her and pull her closer, hand on Nakyum’s waist reeling her in, and Nakyum was already getting wet, just from this, from standing fully clothed in the middle of the room with her mouth entirely given over, and it was too much, too fast, stop, stop, and then finally she got the word out of her throat.

“Stop!”

She pushed away, hands pressing weakly on Seungho’s shoulders, and walked backward until she was out of Seungho’s reach. Seungho wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. She tilted her head but didn’t say anything. Nakyum was panting, shivering all over. Seungho was between her and the door, and the fire was behind her. She clenched her fists.

“Don’t you want to know anything about me first? What I’ve been doing for the last ten years?”

“No,” Seungho said. “Why, is there something you want to tell me?”

“N-no. I want to know what happened to you - why you’re here - why you never -”

Seungho rolled her eyes. “You’re just as entitled as ever.”

“But I -”

“I didn’t ask you up here to talk.”

And then Seungho was upon her, hands on her hips spinning her around and then shoving her hard so she went sprawling backward and landed on the couch. The cushions were plush and she sank into them, and before she could push herself back up Seungho was bowing over her, slapping her hands aside and unzipping her jeans, tugging them down with a strength that Nakyum couldn’t match. She laughed again once the jeans were off and Nakyum pressed her hands between her legs, horrified, but her underwear was white cotton and Seungho had already seen.

“You’re so wet already,” Seungho said mockingly. “I don’t think you came here to talk, either.”

She knelt on the floor and pulled Nakyum’s underwear down, batting Nakyum’s protesting hands away. The fabric was so wet that her underwear got twisted up down her thighs and Nakyum’s face was burning red, a violent blush spreading from her cheeks down her neck to her chest, all of her skin pink and hot and ashamed. She tried to keep her legs closed but Seungho was implacable, kneeling between them, and then Seungho ducked down and placed a noisy, open mouthed kiss to Nakyum’s clit and there was no point resisting anymore.

Nakyum’s eyes rolled back in her head, tipping back until she could only see the ceiling while Seungho licked over her pussy, precise and knowing. She remembered everything - the flickering pressure on Nakyum’s clit that made her shudder and choke, the way to curl her tongue inside Nakyum’s pussy and fuck her wetly while she whimpered, slick and open under Seungho’s mouth. It was as good as it had always been, but now Seungho was firmer too, less wild than she used to be and more relentless, ignoring Nakyum’s pleas to go softer and slower and not bothering to waste time kissing her thighs or biting her stomach. She licked her way back up to Nakyum’s clit and sucked, a filthy wet sound, and Nakyum’s hips jerked up against her and she moaned, half-sobbing, whole body shaking with the intensity of it.

Seungho raised her dripping chin enough to laugh. “I did miss that face you make,” she said, and Nakyum looked down at her in a daze with tears leaking from her eyes. Seungho pushed two fingers into Nakyum’s mouth, twisted them to coat them with saliva, and then used her other hand to hook Nakyum’s leg over her shoulder. She fucked her wet fingers into Nakyum’s pussy, not bothering to warn her or go slow, curling them until she found a soft, tender inside part that she’d never touched before. Nakyum could barely breathe, and she needed some time to adjust but Seungho wouldn’t give it to her, harsh tongue back on her clit, a pressure that Nakyum could feel in her nipples and her throat, electric pulses through her whole body. She threw her hands over her face because she was going to come and she didn’t want to give Seungho the satisfaction of seeing her expression. But the noise she made was bad enough in itself - a high, whining mewl, desperate and feral, Seungho’s fingers twisting in harder like a reward.

Nakyum was panting now and too far gone to speak. She was dimly aware of Seungho sitting back on her heels, surveying Nakyum with a wry, pleased expression. Then Seungho’s hands were under her ass and she was hauling Nakyum up, and Nakyum wrapped her arms around Seungho’s neck on instinct and allowed herself to be carried away.

She hid her face in the thick blue fabric of Seungho’s robe and hoped Mr Kim wasn’t nearby. She kept her eyes screwed shut until Seungho tossed her, quite carelessly, onto a soft surface. A mattress; a bed. They were in Seungho’s bedroom, she realized, she remembered that window looking out across the snowy grounds and those landscape etchings on the wall.

“Stay there,” Seungho said, and disappeared into the ensuite. Nakyum lay as she’d been deposited, sprawled on her back with her arms above her head, trying to catch her breath. How many times had she thought about this room - how many dreams in the last decade had taken place here, the sleep-addled visions of Seungho caged over her, Seungho impatiently tapping her lap, Seungho stroking her hair as she fell asleep. It had been redecorated now; most of Seungho’s old wall art was gone, the smutty rock album covers and the horror movie posters, girls with bloody eyes in various poses of terror.

Nakyum wondered if there was still a secret compartment built into the wood panels above the bed, if it was still stuffed with pills and cigarettes and titty magazines, all the contraband that Seungho’s father had instructed the staff to confiscate if they caught her with it. There was a pile of books open spine up on the bedside table, like Seungho hadn’t been able to finish them. A new dent had appeared in the wall beside the bookcase, like something had been thrown at it, and when Nakyum rolled onto her stomach, hooking her chin over the edge of the mattress, she saw a paperweight abandoned on the floor below. Something had made Seungho angry, then, but before she could think about it any more Seungho was climbing onto the bed behind her, pulling her around by the hair until her back arched and then shoving her face down into the pillows.

“You look very comfortable here,” she said. “You really can’t expect me to believe this isn’t what you wanted.”

Her thumb was on Nakyum’s neck, pressing into the top of her spine. Nakyum twitched in her grip. “I just wanted to see you,” she said against the pillow.

Seungho’s grip loosened. She was quiet for a moment, and Nakyum waited, wondered if she’d finally said the thing that was going to make Seungho kick her out. But instead Seungho was pulling her sweater up, stripping Na-kyun of the last of her clothes before pulling her up by the hips, putting her on her knees.,

“Give me your hands.”

And Nakyum just - offered them up, crossing her hands at the small of her back, and Seungho wrapped both of Nakyum’s wrists tight in one hand and used the other to tap something solid and heavy against Nakyum’s ass.

“This is bigger than my old one,” Seungho said. “It might hurt at first.”

“Ah -” Nakyum said, “Ah--”

Nakyum didn’t need to see the dick that Seungho was wearing to know that it was big. She could feel the wide blunt tip as Seungho stroked it lazily over her pussy, getting it wet. She could picture Seungho’s hand wrapped around the base, wondered if her fingers even reached the whole way around it. Panic was rising again, her heart beating rabbit fast.

“But maybe you’re much more experienced now?” Seungho asked. “Maybe this won’t even satisfy you?”

She lined herself up and flexed her hips, the tip pressing warm and insistent against Nakyum’s pussy. Nakyum writhed, trying to pull away, but Seungho was still restraining her wrists and she didn’t have enough leverage to move.

“Slowly,” she begged.

Seungho made a comprehending noise, pleased. “Not much more experienced, then.”

Nakyum whined against the pillow. “It’s too much,” she said, “it’ll tear,” and Seungho said, “Hush.”

Nakyum bit her lip. The quiet was almost unbearable, worse than the sound of her own pleas. Just Seungho’s rough breath and the thrumming of Nakyum’s pulse inside her own head, the dirty wet sounds of Seungho’s dick nudging forward, the slow, aching squeeze as she worked the tip inside. Nakyum could feel her skin stretching, her pussy already raw and sensitive and now stretched so wide that it hurt, that she couldn’t take it, but she knew Seungho wasn’t going to stop and so she raised her hips up, held her breath, whimpered to herself against the pillow.

“Better,” Seungho said, and then “Ha,” as she slid in further, Nakyum’s muscles giving way to make room. There was sweat pouring down Nakyum’s back and Seungho pushed again, grunted impatiently. She squeezed Nakyum’s wrists like a warning not to move them and then used both hands to spread Nakyum’s cheeks apart and spit down on her dick, rubbing the slick around the base of it and the outside of Nakyum’s pussy.

“You are - incredibly tight,” she told Nakyum. “It feels like no one’s fucked you since me.”

Nakyum didn’t say anything, did her best not to react at all, but she could almost hear Seungho’s head tilting, her ears pricking up, like she could sense blood in the water.

“Kyum,” she said, and when Nakyum didn’t respond she pinched Nakyum’s hip until she cried out, toes curling against the cushions, skin stinging and that huge dick splitting her open and Seungho looming over her, palming over her ass.

“Have you been saving yourself since me,” she asked. She sounded so delighted, as if that would be the funniest thing in the world, and Nakyum’s “No!” was maybe too fast and too desperate, but she shook her head fervently. “I haven’t, I’ve had plenty -”

“Then you don’t need me to be gentle,” Seungho said, and pushed her dick all of the way in until her hips were flush with Nakyum’s ass - a moment of absolute fullness, the breath knocked out of Nakyum’s chest, her stomach aching with the stretch, and then Seungho pulled out and fucked in again, and again, hard and rough with her hands on Nakyum’s hips yanking her back onto the dick. Nakyum had never really understood how a strap could feel good for the person wearing it, Jung Inhun found them distasteful and only wore one once when Nakyum begged her, and later said that it made her feel awkward to have Nakyum bouncing on her like that, she didn’t like it and she wouldn’t do it again-- but now Seungho was making these heavy pleased noises like she liked it so much, ha, ha, ha, squeezing Nakyum’s ass and cursing like it felt very, very good to be fucking Nakyum like this, like Nakyum was being good, Nakyum was making it so good.

“How many?” Seungho said. Her voice was clipped, her teeth gritted.

“W-w-what?”

“How many people have fucked you since me?”

“I don’t--” she tried, and Seungho slapped her, hard, her palm cracking against Nakyum’s ass. Nakyum cried out, tears already streaming from her face, her whole body rocking forward with the force of Seungho’s thrusts and Seungho repeated, “How many?”

“Stop it,” Nakyum said, but it came out weak and stuttering, suh-suh-stop it, and Seungho hit her again. Crack.

“Answer me.”

“No!”

Seungho sighed, disappointed, and slowed with her dick lodged fully inside, Nakyum convulsing around her. She took one of Nakyum’s forearms and wrenched it up until she was twisting Nakyum’s shoulder back, a searing pain like something was going to snap, unbearable pressure, and Nakyum howled. “Two! Two others, just two.”

Seungho released her arm, stroking down her back. Nakyum was crying fully now, unable to stop it, snot and tears and spit coating the pillow beneath her, and then Seungho pulled out and fucked in again, heavy slow strokes, almost thoughtful. At least Nakyum couldn’t see Seungho’s face right now, her mocking grin. She would die if Seungho laughed at her.

“And?” Seungho said finally. “Were they better?”

“What?”

“Did you like having them inside you? Did you like it as much as you like this?”

Nakyum’s mouth was wide open but she couldn’t speak, couldn’t admit what she had been thinking about Inhun just moments before, couldn’t tell Seungho that nobody had ever fucked her as good as this, not even the woman she’d been in love with, and she was gasping and panicking like a fish hauled out of water until Seungho kindly shoved two fingers into her mouth, hooking in her cheek.

“No need to answer that,” she told Nakyum. “I can already tell.”

She ground her dick in as deep as it could go, until Nakyum could feel it in her stomach, her knees almost giving out beneath her if not for Seungho’s hand on her hip, holding her up. She felt helpless and used, unable to speak or move, just a hole for Seungho to fuck and nothing more. The filthy sounds filled the room, that relentless sticky slap of skin and Nakyum’s whining around Seungho’s fingers, practically gnawing on them now. Seungho’s grunts of pleasure were getting louder, her low breaths, the muttered curses when she was pressed in up to the hilt that meant the dick was pressing up against her clit and that she was getting close, that she was going to come like this, with Nakyum sprawled out beneath her.

Seungho pushed on the small of Nakyum’s back until her knees gave out entirely and she was lying on her belly with Seungho plastered along her back, grinding her dick in deep, rolling fucks, licking and sucking at the sensitive tip of Nakyum’s ear. Nakyum was trapped between Seungho and the mattress and now there was a new pressure on her clit, every thrust of Seungho’s hips grinding Nakyum against the bed and she came with a sudden shout, overwhelmed and sensitive from Seungho’s mouth, shuddering in Seungho’s arms, tongue lapping desperately at Seungho’s fingers. Seungho bit her ear with a groan and then she was coming too, squeezing the soft fat at Nakyum’s sides and jerking her hips forward, and then smiling, her mouth pressed haphazardly to the back of Nakyum’s neck. Her dick slipped out with a wet sound, resting fat and warm between Nakyum’s cheeks.

They lay there for a while without moving. Nakyum could fall asleep, if she wanted to, just drift off and let Seungho worry about the mess and Mr Kim and the stupidity of what they’d done. But then reality set in.

“I,” Nakyum said. Her voice was croaky. Seungho stirred, as if she too had been on the brink of sleep. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You didn’t do very much,” Seungho said, without lifting her head. Nakyum could feel the vibrations in her chest when Seungho talked.

“I shouldn’t have let you do that.”

Seungho made a non-committal noise, clearly not interested in this line of conversation. She wanted Nakyum to shut up. She wanted Nakyum to be quiet and compliant and do whatever Seungho wanted without questioning her, and maybe when she was a teenager Nakyum would put up with that, but she was an adult now, and she was being stupid.

“Get off me,” she said, and when Seungho didn’t immediately move she wriggled insistently, grabbing the edge of the mattress and using the last of her strength to pull herself out from beneath Seungho’s body. She stood on shaky legs. Seungho had rolled over languidly to let her up, and was now lying on her side with her head propped up on her hand. Her skin looked golden in this light, her toned arms and the fine dark hair at her pits, her sloping tits, her quizzical mouth, her dick resting quiescent on her thigh. Nakyum couldn’t stop staring at her. With great effort she raised her hands to her face, rubbing her palms against her eye sockets like she could wash the image of Seungho out of them.

“None of this means I forgive you,” she said. Without looking up she scanned the floor for her clothes and started to dress, her shirt inside out, her sweater rumpled. Her jeans were still in the study and she paused, caught for a moment, before steeling her resolve and striding out of the door and back the way they’d come, tracing Seungho’s steps back to the study and retrieving her jeans and her underwear where they’d been tossed aside by the fire. It had all but burned out now, the embers glowing in the darkness of late afternoon.

When she straightened up, zipping her fly, she saw Seungho leaning in the doorway. She’d put her blue robe back on. Her hair was down now, mussed and tangling down her shoulders. She crossed her arms.

“I don’t know what you’re so angry about,” Seungho said. “I thought we were friends.”

“We were,” Nakyum said. Her voice was close to cracking; she needed to leave now, before she started to cry. “We were more than friends, and then you left without saying goodbye to me. I didn’t even know you were gone. I had to find out from Min.”

Seungho huffed a laugh. “I bet she was very delicate about it. She always wanted you, you know.”

“I don’t care,” Nakyum snapped.

“Well, maybe you should have,” Seungho said, still something amused in her tone. “She would have comforted you if you’d let her.”

And then the tears were coming, but they were tears of rage. Nakyum shouldered her bag and shoved past Seungho, letting her bony shoulder bump hard against Seungho’s broad one. “I didn’t want comfort.”

Seungho’s hand lashed out, gripping Nakyum by her hair; it was harder for her to get a grip without the pony tail but she curled her fingers tightly in the short locks and twisted, hard, until Nakyum cried out in pain.

“Then what,” Seungho said, with the first sharp edge of irritation, “is the problem?”

Nakyum wrapped both hands around Seungho’s wrist, trying to prise her off. She was almost unable to believe that Seungho could still be so cruel. That only showed how foolish she’d grown up to be.

“I hate you,” she said. She wrenched her hands back sharply, and Seungho’s grip faltered. “I hated you then and I still hate you now. Ten years doesn’t change anything.”

She stormed out the doorway. Seungho didn’t call out or try to stop her but all down the hallway and out the door and back across the snowy drive, Nakyum could feel amber eyes on her, chasing her further and further away.

Nakyum was not going back to that house. She swore this to herself, double swore it, curled up in bed with her arms crossed tight into her chest. She was still sore and wet, had been the whole walk home, and when she came in the door Heena had looked at her and frowned with concern and asked if she was feeling alright.

“I fell over on the hill,” Nakyum said. “I’m going to take a bath.”

She spent three hours soaking and hating herself, touching delicately at the bruises on her hips, pussy throbbing as if Seungho was still inside her. Stupid, to give in that easily. Stupid, not to have expected that this would happen; that Seungho would use her, fuck her like a toy and then drop her again, disinterested. What, had she thought that Seungho was actually going to apologize? Didn’t she know Seungho better than that?

By the time she got out of the bath the rest of the house was asleep, and so Nakyum went to bed too, clicking off the lamp in the guest room and pulling the curtains over the window. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep but once her head was on the pillow she dropped off near immediately, her body exhausted even if her mind was frantic, chasing herself in and out of dreams.

The next day was Christmas Eve and the kids wanted to go ice skating, which meant a drive to the bigger town on the other side of the mountain. Nakyum loved her nieces and nephews but it was like herding cats to take them out and they shrieked and skidded on the ice, circling her gleefully, tugging on her sleeves. They got hot chocolates before driving home which meant the kids spent the whole trip back in the clutch of a sugar high, fighting each other and screeching with laughter, and then when they were home again it was bathtime and nobody wanted to go first, until there were three separate tantrums happening concurrently and her brother-in-law said, ruefully, that maybe it would be best for Nakyum to spend an hour or two out of the house.

In truth Nakyum had been grateful for the distraction, but the last thing she wanted was to be in the way. So she changed quickly out of her jeans which were sticky with spilled chocolate and into a linen shirt dress, crumpled at the collar with wide wooden buttons and a hem that fell just above her knees. She realized too late that she’d forgotten to bring any leggings or stockings to wear beneath it, but she didn’t want to ask for something while everyone was busy. She shrugged, figuring she’d make do, and left with her sketchpad tucked under one arm. Within minutes of being outside her bare knees were red and stinging with cold.

She trudged around for a while, feeling morose and trying to think of somewhere to sit that wouldn’t trigger a new rush of memories. She felt aimless, stupid, her only real goal not to think about Seungho, and she was relieved when she turned onto the main street running through town and saw the old diner on the corner. Seungho’s gang had never bothered to eat there - both Seungho and Jihwa’s households had private chefs, and if they ate at home they could drink as much as they liked too. No memories. Nakyum fell gratefully against the glass door.

The diner had been open since the 60s, and as far as Nakyum knew it had never been renovated but it was still impeccably clean, with a few lights in the windows, and a kind old proprietor who somehow recognized her from years back and hurried her into the biggest and most comfortable booth. Within five minutes Nakyum’s table was laden with tea and water and panchan in chipped white bowls, steaming vegetables and fish cakes and daikon radish, so much that Nakyum was already fretting about how to eat it all. She had just taken her sketchbook out and was considering asking her server to sit for a ten minute portrait when she glanced out the window and saw Seungho striding past, in a long black coat with a thick scarf wrapped around most of her face, her hair up in a tousled bun and flecked with snow.

Nakyum saw Seungho spot her, her eyebrows raising, and immediately looked down. Maybe Seungho didn’t want to see her either - maybe she’d already got what she wanted - but then the door opened again, the bell jingling with a gust of cold air as Seungho strode towards her.

“I have to say,” she said, sliding into the booth opposite Nakyum, “I like having you around town again. You never know when you’re going to catch two big dopey eyes peering at you through a window.”

Nakyum opened her mouth but then thought better of it, saying nothing. It was wiser not to engage. Maybe if she held out for long enough without reacting, Seungho would eventually get bored and slope off. But instead Seungho waved the server over and ordered a beer.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” Seungho said. Nakyum shook her head, refusing to look up, until Seungho reached over and grabbed her chin, thumb digging into her cheek, and forced her to raise her head. Nakyum glared at her.

“Still sulking,” Seungho said, confirming it to herself. Nakyum’s mouth was forced into a comical pout and she couldn’t speak but she gave Seungho the worst look that she could, hoping the way her eyes were watering from the ache in her jaw didn’t lessen the effect. Seungho’s beer arrived, their server eying her distastefully but not saying anything, and she released Nakyum’s chin in favour of the bottle, draining half of it in one long pull. Nakyum rubbed her face, which was stinging mostly from shame at this point. Seungho smiled at her.

“What are you doing here?” Nakyum demanded.

“I’m taking a walk.”

“Not just today. What did you do to get sent back here?”

Seungho sighed, and took another long draught of beer, signalling for another. “I disappointed my father. One party too many.” She grinned, white teeth on show. “One pussy too many.”

Nakyum winced, praying their server was out of earshot as a shiver ran down her spine.. She could perfectly imagine Seungho in the decadence of Seoul, boozing and carousing through the city, hiring out a private room and filling it with girls and barking with laughter when somebody asked when the men would be joining. Nakyum wondered, just as she used to do when they were younger, what it must feel like to really not care at all what people think of you.

“Did they fire you from the company?”

“And how would that look?” Seungho said. “No, they’re saying that I’ve been on a series of business trips for the past six months. I think right now I’m supposed to be in Los Angeles.”

Nakyum’s eyes widened. “Six months?”

Seungho had spent six months in this town? In that big house, alone, with the mountain wind howling around her…

“Don’t start weeping,” Seungho said.

Nakyum bristled - but Seungho was right, of course, there was no point crying for her. She didn’t expect or deserve Nakyum’s sympathy. Nakyum noticed Seungho reaching out to steal some dried fish from Nakyum’s bowl and she flicked her with her chopsticks. “That’s mine.”

Seungho’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve become very impolite.”

“You can buy your own food.”

“Not just today,” Seungho went on. “Yesterday, too, the way you left. For someone obsessed with goodbyes, you didn’t say it to me yesterday.”

“You were the one who--”

“And now,” Seungho said, clearly in her stride and unwilling to be cut off, “you won’t share your meal with me, even after I answered your pointless questions.”

Nakyum could feel herself being backed into a corner, could feel an unwelcome sense of guilt blooming in her chest, and Seungho had always enjoyed making her feel guilty, turning a fight around at the last minute to make all of it Nakyum’s fault. She was almost smiling again, the fake pout starting to give way as her mouth crooked up.

“Stop it!” Nakyum said. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I visited you yesterday because I felt sorry for you, and you took advantage of me!”

Seungho rested her chin in her hand. “I did?”

“Yes! You ambushed me and I fell for it because of… because of our history, but I’m an adult now, and I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Seungho said.

“That’s not my problem.”

“I think it is,” Seungho said. “If you want me to believe that you truly have no interest in me, why did you moan so happily when I came inside you yesterday?”

Nakyum’s stomach flipped. Her face was burning.

“Nothing to say now? You were so vocal a second ago. Is the memory of writhing on the end of my dick getting the better of you?”

“I - I -”

“Perhaps you’re struggling to recall,” she said. “In which case, I can remind you.”

She stood up. For a blessed moment Nakyum thought she was leaving, but instead she came around the table and settled down easily next to Nakyum, trapping her against the window. “Don’t panic,” she said. Her hand was on Nakyum’s thigh.

There were a group of men in the other corner eating dinner together. One of them glanced over and gave Nakyum an inquiring look, then locked eyes with Seungho and immediately turned away, a sharp movement like he’d been stung. Nakyum knew that no one would come to her rescue, the way no one ever did, looking away in embarrassment or guilty titillation or disapproval but never bothering to intervene, as though the world had decided that Nakyum was Seungho’s to do with as Seungho liked.

“Still not dressing for the weather, I see,” Seungho said. “Or were you hoping to catch my eye, waiting in the window this schoolgirl’s outfit?” She tapped Nakyum’s bare knee and added conversationally, “Spread your legs.”

Nakyum couldn’t move. She felt hot and trapped, her heart pounding. “No.”

“Would you prefer me to spread them for you?”

“Just leave - leave me alone,” Nakyum said, and Seungho said, “Ah, thank you,” as another beer was deposited on their table. The kindly server had stopped making eye contact with either of them.

“My hands are cold,” Seungho said, once they were alone again. “I can warm them up between your legs or I can put my fingers in your mouth.”

“No,” Nakyum said quickly, and her legs fell open in a panic, knowing instinctively that Seungho wouldn’t hesitate to make a scene. Seungho grinned, smoothing a palm over her knee and then sliding it higher beneath her dress, up her bare leg, tickling the soft hairs of her inner thigh. Her knuckles grazed Nakyum’s pussy over her underwear and she must have been able to feel how damp they were, the cling of wet cotton, because she chuckled and exhaled. Her hand crept higher, hooking two fingers in the waistband of Nakyum’s underwear and pulling them down.

“Please,” Nakyum tried, but Seungho shushed her.

“Raise your hips,” she said, and Nakyum did it as subtly as she could, just barely coming out of her seat. She hoped the fabric would get twisted and stuck and it would be too hard for Seungho to undress her but they came away easy as anything, peeling from her skin like wrapping paper from a gift until they were tangled around her knees.

“Good,” Seungho said, and Nakyum took a heaving breath. She could scream. She could beg the other customers for help. She could fake like she was choking on her food until someone ran over. But then they might discover her with her underwear half off and Seungho’s hand up her skirt, dextrous fingers teasing at her folds now, spreading her pussy open, and Seungho’s hands weren’t cold at all, they were burning hot and implacable as one long finger fucked roughly inside. Nakyum’s mouth made an O and she was whining, under her breath, with only the hum of halogen lighting above to drown her out. Seungho crooked her finger like she was beckoning and Nakyum bowed over her plate, vision blurring, and Seungho gave her no warning before squeezing in a second finger with a sucking fwop sound, so loud that Seungho must have heard it too. Everything was much too obvious but Seungho looked entirely unconcerned, free hand raising the beer bottle to Nakyum’s mouth and gesturing for her to take a sip.

The beer was cold and it fizzed in her throat and Nakyum was sweating all over, damp on her neck and between her tits and beneath her ass, so wet she must be staining her dress and she didn’t know what to do except take it. She was clenching around Seungho’s fingers now, tight and desperate, and she realized with horror that her hips were tilting up into it, jerking her pussy forward every time Seungho pushed inside, trying to coax her deeper.

Seungho set down the beer, rested her chin in her hand, and grinned.

“Are you close already?” she said. “I forgot how much my Kyum likes it, out where anyone can see her.”

Nakyum gasped at the triple hit: a particularly vicious fuck inside her, the murmured my Kyum, and the memories she’d suppressed so hard they felt like a fever dream; the two of them at parties and the back of the movie theatre and the bathroom at school, not even in a cubicle, Nakyum up on the sink with Seungho standing between her legs and her shirt unbuttoned, Seungho’s warm mouth on her chest, tonguing over a nipple and better hope nobody comes in, huh, I don’t know how you’d explain this and the way it made her whimper and struggle and turn hot all over, the fact that Seungho could have her anywhere, that she didn’t care who knew what Nakyum let her do.

Nakyum’s clit was throbbing and she was squeezing her thighs around Seungho’s hand now, whimpering, breath caught high in her throat and her eyes clamped shut. Seungho twisted her wrist, nudging Nakyum’s legs open again like it was nothing and thumbing over her clit. Nakyum’s eyes were wet and she bit her lip hard and choked down a moan. Seungho did it again, rubbing Nakyum’s clit as she fucked her under the table. She had found that tender inside part again and Nakyum couldn’t contain her anguished squeak as Seungho massaged it, rubbing steady circles inside her, and Nakyum didn’t need to open her eyes to know that Seungho was watching her intently, paying unbearable attention to every tiny sound, every fresh blush in her cheeks.

“Stop,” she whispered, “Wait--”

Nakyum’s eyes were closed so tightly that she didn’t notice their server coming back over - hesitant but determined now, pausing at the edge of their table.

“Is everything okay, girls?” she said, and Nakyum’s eyes flew open and then she was coming, twitching into Seungho’s hand and emitting a desperate sob of embarrassment, staring with wide eyes at Seungho because there was nowhere else safe to look. Their server must have thought she was having a fit but Seungho stayed calm and stroked her through it, leisurely, fingers sliding out of her and then twisting back in again, probing around her pussy with lazy interest.

“Everything’s wonderful,” Seungho said. “Thank you.”

She walked Nakyum home.

Nakyum didn’t as much agree to it as allow it to happen. Once she’d regained her breath, Seungho finally let go of her long enough to pull a wad of notes from her pocket and leave a stack of won on the table. Then she stood up and jerked her chin at the door. Nakyum’s underwear was somewhere around her calves, and she had to wriggle in her seat and pretend she’d dropped her napkin in order to pull it up, uncomfortably sensitive now. She could still feel her pulse between her legs, the aftershocks shooting through her belly. She almost forgot her hat, until Seungho picked it up from the table and jammed it onto her head, too low so the sheepskin was almost covering her eyes. She followed Seungho out of the diner and didn’t question it when Seungho pointed her in the direction of her unnie’s house.

Seungho was cheerful now, not talking but strolling along with her hands in her pockets and her face tilted up as if it was a warm summer’s day. The streets were quiet, with only the slushy sound of an occasional passing car to break the silence. Nakyum couldn’t think straight - her knees were weak and she couldn’t remember now which noises she had made, how loud she had been. They walked past houses blanketed in snow, with warm lights on in their windows, and Nakyum wished she was inside one of them, instead of out here in the open, defenceless.

“Where’s your car?” Nakyum demanded.

Seungho made a questioning noise.

“I mean,” Nakyum said, “is there a reason you don’t drive any more?”

“My license got revoked,” Seungho said.

“Oh.”

Seungho laughed, mimicking her troubled expression. “‘Oh’. You make it sound like they cut out my tongue.”

Nakyum felt another wave of humiliation, but she was able to meet Seungho’s eye this time. “I just know how much you liked driving.”

Seungho shrugged. “I can pay people to do it for me.”

“Yes, but--”

“Let’s guess whether you ever got a license,” Seungho said abruptly. “I suspect not, since you would’ve driven here from Busan. Was it too difficult, or did you get frightened?”

Nakyum went silent. The truth was that she couldn’t afford the classes, let alone the actual cost of a car. And what would she use it for? All she did at home was work from her bedroom and take occasional walks down to the beach where she sat alone on the pier, sketching the gulls and waiting for the sun to go down so she could go back home and sleep. Inhun had a car, and before she left they used to drive out of the city some weekends and visit historical sites that were relevant to Inhun’s academic research, climbing through ancient ruins with the sun beating down on them, and every so often Inhun would deign to hold her hand.

Seungho mistook her silence for resentment, and nudged her side. “Don’t sulk. You can’t still be angry at me.”

They were almost at Nakyum’s house now, walking down her old street. Seungho took Nakyum by the elbow to guide her around a puddle of melted snow.

“You left before the semester was even over,” Nakyum said. Seungho sighed.

“My father wanted me to start my training early. It was only a few months before I was due to leave, anyway.”

“Well I was here for another year after you left,” Nakyum said. She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. “Everybody knew about us. You’d made sure everyone knew. And when you were gone, nobody had any reason to go easy on me.”

Seungho’s mouth was a flat, unreadable line. She said, “How can I be responsible for a group of children I didn’t even know.”

“You could’ve called me. You could’ve visited. If you’d shown your face--”

Seungho raised her hand. “Stop. This is childish. You keep saying that I never came to see you, but here I am now, in front of you, and all you want to do is fight.”

“I’m not fighting,” Nakyum protested. “I just want you to admit that you did something wrong.”

“You hate me, you’ve always hated me,” Seungho said, clasping Nakyum’s shoulders and walking her backward until she was shoved up against a tree, rough bark scraping on her coat. “You didn’t want comfort when I left, but I should have called and visited. When will you make up your mind? Can you blame me for not listening when you’re so incoherent?”

It wasn’t cold anymore, pressed between Seungho and the tree. Nakyum took a deep breath and said, “When we were teenagers I was too scared and naive to ever say something out loud or ask what I meant to you, but even still, we were something, and you walked out like I was nothing.”

Seungho’s head was tilted curiously to the side, eyes glinting in the dark. Nakyum felt the instinctive urge to cringe and blush, but Seungho just said, “Yes, that’s true. I did something wrong. Now open your mouth.”

Seungho kissed her deep and dirty, hot tongue lighting Nakyum up from the inside, and Nakyum clung to Seungho’s shoulders with a white knuckle grip, her eyelids fluttering.

Nakyum,

I hope this finds you well. I’m writing to wish you a Happy Christmas and all the best for the New Year. Also, I believe I left my copy of Habermas’ Justification and Application at your apartment. It contains some key annotations of mine. Could you please mail it to the following address?

Regards,
Jung Inhun

The email came through early on Christmas morning - late at night in Inhun’s timezone. Nakyum was still in bed and barely awake, and she had to read the message a few times before it sank in. She could see stripes of blue sky between the blinds; it was a bright day, crisp with mountain air, and she could smell porridge cooking down below.

They had a snowball fight to celebrate the good weather. It felt good to wear herself out running around with the kids, and once they got tired and started to fight she brought them all inside and they baked a huge, precariously stacked cream cake. Nakyum gave them full creative license with the decorations and so they ended up with more frosting than sponge, pillowy white and sweet enough to make their teeth buzz. She swiped two fingers through the bowl, sugar melting on her tongue. She liked spending time with her nieces and nephews but today Nakyum was running on autopilot, smiling pleasantly at their rambling stories without really listening.

A month ago, a week ago even, Inhun’s message would have floored her. Last Christmas they’d been together, and Inhun had even cooked for her, and taught her old card games she’d learned from her parents, and not even minded when Nakyum lost track of the rules and had to ask to start again. It was one of Nakyum’s fondest memories, and one she’d been returning to all year, mulling over it like a cut on the roof of her mouth that she couldn’t stop running her tongue over, the same way she couldn’t stop re-reading old emails and texts, sketching Inhun’s face in the background of her drawings, scrolling through reels of old photos.

There was one photo in particular that Nakyum often lingered on. It was a rare capture of Inhun smiling. They were hiking up to Seolbuksa and Inhun was higher up the path, looking back with sunlight reflecting off her glasses, map folded securely in one hand, her mouth turned up demurely at the camera. In the darkest nights Nakyum curled up around her phone and stared at that picture until her eyes hurt. But this morning when she opened it she couldn’t wallow in it like normal, couldn’t remember exactly how it had felt to be there on that day, the clothes she’d been wearing or the taste of the water in the flask clipped to Inhun’s hip.

It was like Inhun was still there in the picture, up ahead on the path and climbing to higher and higher peaks, and ever since she left Nakyum had been sliding down and further down, skidding through the mud all through this long and lonely year. But now she had finally reached the bottom. She could feel her toes sinking into solid earth, the urge to dust off her knees, this snowy little town rising up to greet her from the mist.

She caught herself zoning out halfway through doing the dishes, elbows deep in suds while she gazed out across the front yard. There had been no fresh snow overnight and so she could still see footprints dotting the path. Two sets veered off below the camphor tree and stopped there, twin indentations where Nakyum and Seungho had stood, ice melting into Nakyum’s sneakers while Seungho sucked hard on her tongue.

Nakyum wasn’t waiting for anything. She had no expectations. She knew better now than to count on Seungho. But still, when the last rays of sun had disappeared behind the hills and the last dinner plates had been cleared, and she heard a car horn beep three times from outside, relief crawled like smoke through her veins.

“I’m going out for a walk,” she said. “I might be back late.”

“Say hello to your friend from me,” Heena said, waving over the back of the couch.

Nakyum was better dressed for the cold this time, in jeans and a fishermen’s sweater and boots, but she needn’t have bothered. When she opened the passenger door of the car the heating was on full blast, and Seungho was wearing a long camel coat with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a dark T-shirt paired with striped cotton boxers. She sat waiting in the driver’s seat, one hand on the gearstick and the other on the wheel.

Nakyum dropped into the passenger seat, then frowned. “I thought you couldn’t drive?”

Seungho shrugged, starting the engine with a warm purr. “The old man always hides his keys in the same place.”

Nakyum just nodded. She was twitching in her scratchy sweater and she wondered what Seungho would do if Nakyum reached over to turn the heat down. Mock her, maybe, or grab her wrist. They drove onto the main street. The air felt thick.

“You’re very quiet,” Seungho said.

“My ex messaged me this morning.” Seungho didn’t react. Nakyum peered out of the corner of her eyes, trying to see Seungho’s face without actually looking at her. She hoped Seungho might say something, but there was no immediate reaction. “We broke up nine months ago,” Nakyum went on. “But she still writes to me once in a while.”

“How thoughtful,” Seungho said, without sounding very impressed. She didn’t want to be having this conversation; she didn’t care about Jung Inhun. She wasn’t interested in Nakyum’s life outside of the places it intersected with her own. Well, tough. Nakyum wanted her to take it seriously. She wanted Seungho to know that someone had cared for her, in the years they’d been apart, someone had captured her heart. Nakyum hadn’t spent the last ten years waiting around.

“She is thoughtful,” Nakyum said. “And very intelligent. She won all kinds of awards, but she wasn’t arrogant about it. She was just ambitious, she cared about being successful. She was only a few years older than me but she was already a professor, and then she got a job in the US.”

“So she ditched you too,” Seungho said.

Nakyum paused, stung. “No. Not like that. She just said it would be too hard, going long distance. She didn’t want me to have to wait for her.”

Seungho turned off the main street onto the track leading up to the Yoon mansion. In the dashboard light she looked sceptical. “There are planes. The internet. If she’d wanted to, you could have stayed together.”

“It was a three year contract,” Nakyum said, trying to keep her voice from wavering. “It didn’t make sense.”

Seungho paused at the entrance, waiting while the gates swung open on their mechanical hinges. As she rolled the car inside she said lightly, “But you would have waited for her.”

Hot air was blowing into Nakyum’s face. She couldn’t think what to say. If she denied it Seungho would call her a liar, and she would be right. Nakyum would have waited. She even tried to argue for it, tried to convince Inhun to at least try it out with the distance, and Inhun had said it was too hard and she was going to be too busy and then finally she’d put her hand on Nakyum’s shoulder and said, gently, “I need someone who can engage with me on an intellectual level. I want to approach a relationship as equals, and more and more I feel like we aren’t entirely balanced.”

For months, Nakyum had done such a good job of not thinking about that conversation. She had used photos and alcohol and crying to blot it out from her mind and the tactic had been largely successful, so now she blamed Seungho entirely for dragging it back into the light again. She crossed her arms as the car rolled to a stop, and turned away toward the window, hating Seungho for seeing straight to the centre of what had happened.

Finally Nakyum said, “She didn’t have any obligation to stay with me. She was too good for me, that’s all.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Seungho said.

Nakyum twisted around to glare at her. Seungho didn’t know anything about it, and now she thought she could insult Inhun too, imply she was somehow inferior. “She was a genius.”

“She sounds like a bore.”

“At least she actually told me when she broke up with me,” Nakyum snapped.

Seungho’s eyebrows raised, that dangerous tilt of her head. “Good for her.” She got out of the car without another word, leaving Nakyum to scurry after her, boots crunching in the snow. Seungho was running her hand back through her hair, loose today and tumbling down her back in a thick black wave. At the front door she turned and paused, opening her mouth twice as if she was struggling with what to say. Finally she set her jaw and said, “I thought it would be easier. Just to leave. You have a tendency to - cry.”

“I did cry,” Nakyum said.

Seungho breathed out, sharp through her nose. “So you just wanted me to stick around and watch you weeping.”

Seungho’s coat was flapping open and her exposed knees were going red with the cold. It was strange, to see something so undeniably human about her. Maybe that was what gave Nakyum the courage; maybe it was the quiet warmth of the car behind them and Seungho’s house ahead; maybe it was how rattled and uncomfortable Seungho was, as if for once Nakyum had tipped her off balance as easily as Seungho unbalanced Nakyum. She said, “You like it when I cry.”

A snort of disbelief, and Seungho’s eyes widening for a moment. “Come inside,” she said, and put her hand on Nakyum’s shoulder to guide her.

The house was more lit up than it had been the other day. Lights were shining in the hallways and the floor had been swept clean of dust. Seungho led her down the hallway and Nakyum assumed they were going to the bedroom. But they took a different turn, somewhere in the maze of rooms, and ended up in a den with a fireplace of its own, the hearth glowing and a bigger, softer couch taking up most of the space. There was a movie playing on low, the voices just an indecipherable burble, and a table in the corner with bottles and a bucket of ice. Seungho had already started mixing their drinks. Over her shoulder she said, “Are you hungry?”

Nakyum stood nonplussed in the doorway. She scratched the back of her head. “Aren’t we going to- ?”

Seungho paused without turning. “Going to what?”

“Nothing,” Nakyum said.

She sat on the couch and waited for Seungho to pounce.

But ten minutes later, she’d finished her drink and nothing had happened. Seungho got up and brought her another one without saying anything.

Maybe Seungho was still trying to punish her for speaking about Inhun? Or chastising her about the past? But from what she could remember Seungho’s punishments didn’t usually involve feeding her drinks and leaving her be. And she could normally tell when Seungho was angry with her. In fact Seungho seemed more relaxed now than she had in the car. When Nakyum gulped too much of her drink at once and coughed, Seungho laughed almost fondly and patted her on the back. Her hand stayed on the back of Nakyum’s neck, fingers teasing at her hair, the movement so idle that Nakyum wasn’t sure if she realized she was doing it.

She wondered if Seungho had forgotten that it was Nakyum’s last night here, that tomorrow afternoon she would be on the first of three trains that would take her back to Busan. They hadn’t talked about Nakyum staying the night, so they probably only had two or three more hours together. But Seungho was acting like they had all the time in the world, petting Nakyum lazily as if they did this every night, as if they were a normal couple spending a sleepy Christmas together by the fire, and tomorrow Seungho would kiss Nakyum before she left for work, and Nakyum would curl up in her king-sized bed with her laptop on her belly, dozing on and off between tasks, padding out to the fridge for snacks, the whole day warm and safe and quiet, until Seungho came home again to kiss and undress her and make fun of her for spending the whole day in bed.

But Seungho was making no moves to kiss or undress Nakyum. And it was getting harder and harder to stay still. In their teens they had never been able to sit beside each other like this; it was always only a matter of time before Seungho hauled her into her lap, or if Nakyum was drunk enough she would crawl over herself, shy and self-conscious but unable to resist. Worse still with Seungho so unclothed, the coat discarded and the dark hair on her thighs gleaming in the lamplight. Nakyum stole another look. She was taller than she’d been as a teenager, gained some weight and height, but she would probably still fit snugly on Seungho’s broad thighs. When Seungho grabbed her hips and dragged her over they normally ended up face to face, Nakyum squeaking with her fists clenched in Seungho’s t-shirt and Seungho forcing her tongue into Nakyum’s mouth, but if she was going to sidle on her own Nakyum would usually face away, lean back against Seungho’s chest. The reassuring rise of Seungho’s tits against her shoulder blades, and Seungho’s hands on her hips, dragging her back so she could grind against Nakyum’s ass.

She thought she was being subtle in her observation, idly pursuing this historical line of thought, but when she glanced up at Seungho’s face it made her freeze. Seungho was looking back at her, almost but not quite smiling.

“Is there something you want?”

Nakyum shook her head sharply. If Seungho was going to be nice and almost friendly, Nakyum wouldn’t be the one to send them backsliding. “No - I - I need the bathroom, that’s all.”

Seungho raised one eyebrow. “You’re asking my permission?”

“No,” Nakyum said immediately, standing up. “I’m going now, I remember where it is.”

Seungho said nothing, just inclined her head graciously in a way that did imply permission, regardless of whether Nakyum had asked for it.

Nakyum wandered down the hallway. She didn’t really need the bathroom at all but it felt good to get some space, after that strange, daring moment at the front door and then Seungho’s unusual distance since they were inside. Sitting by Seungho’s side she had felt dazed, fraught, waiting for something with such dedication that she realised now, embarrassed, her mouth was full of saliva, but with every step down the hallway her stomach sank. Somehow Seungho and Inhun stood side by side in her vision, Seungho laughing and Inhun shaking her head and both of them refusing to touch her. She closed the bathroom door behind her and prepared to sit on the toilet seat and maybe have a quiet sniffle before she snuck out to walk home.

Instead her gaze went straight to the strap-on dick sitting on the towel rack. She blinked. It was strewn casually but not carelessly, as though Seungho had washed it and left it there to dry. Nakyum walked over to it, her head wiped clear of everything except curiosity. In the past she’d never gotten much of a chance to study Seungho’s dicks, sometimes hadn’t even realised Seungho was wearing one until it was sliding deep inside her, and now she reached out and ran her fingers along the length a little nervously, as though someone would smack her hand away. It didn’t feel as alive and dangerous as it did when it was strapped to Seungho, but there was something there, anyway, something potent and waiting.

She curled her fingers around the base. Nakyum had sex toys of her own, of course, but they were all cheap and in humiliatingly garish colours, more toy than sex. Seungho favoured flesh-coloured, expensively lifelike dicks, with veins and realistic heads. It was a little hard to tell them apart, but Nakyum was fairly sure this wasn’t the one Seungho had fucked her with most recently. It felt slightly smaller. She could just manage to brush her fingertips against each other around the thickest part. It was still heavy in her hand, though, cool silicone but warming quickly to her touch.

“I thought I felt something,” Seungho said, and Nakyum jumped and dropped the dick, sending it rolling across the floor. Her hands came instinctively up to her face and she watched with equal parts hysteria and frozen horror as the dick bumped along the tiles and came to rest at Seungho’s feet.

Seungho was lounging against the doorframe, looking hugely amused. Nakyum hadn’t even heard the door click open. She wondered how long Seungho had been watching.

“And here I am trying to be respectful,” Seungho said. “I thought you were depressed.”

“It’s not - I was just curious - I don’t–”

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” Seungho said. She didn’t look down but Nakyum knew they were both intensely aware of it, the dick waiting at Seungho’s feet. Nakyum licked her lips. She sized up the distance between them, then scuttled across the tiles and stooped to pick it back up. Her speed put her off-balance and she had to slap out a hand to the floor to keep herself steady. Seungho’s hand in her hair, a clenched fist, and then she released Nakyum and pushed her back, laughing.

Nakyum helped herself flinching back to her feet, waiting for the next shove, but Seungho let her stand up. Then they were just standing there, Seungho watching her, Nakyum sneaking glances up from the floor, the dick heavy in her hands.

“You said you were curious,” Seungho said, and Nakyum hesitated, then nodded. She turned away from Seungho, aware that the bathroom wasn’t really small enough to hide but wanting at least the pretense of it. The dick felt quite warm now, despite the time on the floor, stealing the heat from her sweaty palms. She examined it, thumbing the head, feeling her cheeks flame. She couldn’t help the feeling that she was touching Seungho even though Seungho wasn’t wearing it. I thought I felt something.

She looked up and met Seungho’s eyes in the bathroom mirror, feeling plaintive. What now. She didn’t want to put it down, it would have been awkward, even rude, but she felt clumsy, like a teenager again. The ongoing Seungho effect.

Seungho strolled forward. She looped one arm around Nakyum’s chest, making her lips part involuntarily, open mouth reflected in the bathroom mirror, Seungho steering her forward until she was pressed up against the sink. “Maybe you should put it in your mouth.”

“Ah,” Nakyum stammered, and Seungho wrapped her big hand around Nakyum’s and together they guided the dick up, bumping clumsily against Nakyum’s lips until she got her mouth around the head and suckled, mapping out the head with her tongue, feeling the spongy weight of it against her jaws. It tasted good, clean. At first it felt too big, too dry, too invasive, but then her mouth began watering and she was drooling around it.

“You look pretty with your mouth full,” Seungho murmured in her ear, and Nakyum made a muffled sound of protest, gaze jerking back up to meet Seungho’s eyes in the mirror. It was a compliment but it felt rude and Nakyum frowned, shook her head. Couldn’t speak properly, though, mouth full, throat working as she opened up, did her best to take a little more. Seungho laughed at the look on her face. She was in a good mood now, stroking Nakyum’s hair. “No?”

No way to answer that, either, but Seungho didn’t seem to mind. There were tears prickling in Nakyum’s eyes but it wasn’t that either of them had done anything wrong for once, just the thickness of the dick pressing into her mouth and her body doing its best to cope.

“I have an idea,” Seungho said, and heaved Nakyum over her shoulder.

A dumb moment where Nakyum almost choked on the dick, an equally dumb following moment where she had to scramble not to drop it, and before she really knew what was happening they were halfway down the hallway. Seungho walked easily, uncaring about Nakyum swinging halfway down her back, a big palm reaching up to cover most of Nakyum’s right ass cheek, fingers digging greedily in. Holding Nakyum’s ass in her hand and then running down over her thigh and up again to squeeze Nakyum’s pussy through the denim, and Nakyum was making frantic little noises around the dick, uh-uh-uh, and then she was being tipped onto a heap of pillows, a plush carpet, fibres pushing up between her toes when she wriggled them.

She wasn’t even sure what room they were in. She turned instinctively on her side, curling around herself and around the dick, solid even as Seungho moved about the room on her own. Nakyum saw Seungho’s T-shirt hit the ground next to her cheek and groaned, only just resisted grabbing the fabric and pulling it in against her cheek, breathing in deeply for the smell. Instead she looked up and saw Seungho shaking her hair back, matter-of-fact, tying it up and out of her way, then reaching forward and dragging the dick out of Nakyum’s grip.

Nakyum moaned. Seungho’s eyes were dark and focused and very pleased with what she saw.

“Normally I wouldn’t waste something so small on you,” she said, fitting the dick into her harness and kneeling between Nakyum’s legs, dragging her clothes off her. “But since you’ve made it so nice and wet–”

She fucked in deep, not bothering to even touch Nakyum and be sure she was ready for her, and she didn’t need to, either, Nakyum so wet she was making a mess on the nice pile of pillows, damp and soft everywhere except for the hard core of Seungho’s dick pressing into her. One of her feet was on Seungho’s shoulder and the other had fallen wide, thighs lifting up, Seungho grunting with effort and pleasure as she set up a sharp rhythm, fucking Nakyum like no one else ever had or ever would.

Then Seungho reached again and she had another dick in her hand, bigger this time, the one from the other night, maybe. Nakyum’s eyes widened and she just had time to get out, “Please–mmf!” before Seungho was pressing it between Nakyum’s lips, keeping her stretched open everywhere, fucking Nakyum’s mouth and pussy in deep, considered strokes. Nakyum closed her eyes because it was too much to keep them open but then all of her senses were only attuned to the way she was being fucked, back arching, mouth full, pussy full.

At first it was too much, overwhelming. She was gagging, stomach spasming and spit dribbling down her chin, Seungho taking over her whole body. But deep in the middle of it something clicked in her brain and she was almost crooning around the dick, jerking her hips up fast and compulsive into Seungho’s thrusts. Seungho slid closer, pressed against her so that Nakyum’s knee was shoved awkwardly against her cheek and her thighs were screaming with the stretch but everything felt so good, so slick and sure and rhythmic like she had been slotted back into the right piece of machinery, exactly where she was meant to be. She thought she might be coming at the same time as Seungho, Seungho gasping in her ear and saying, “Kyum, Kyum,” but everything stayed so good and kept her up so high that she wasn’t even sure if it counted as an orgasm or if she was just coming repeatedly, a cresting wave that didn’t fall.

Seungho laughed, a hot huff of breath against her earlobe that made her squirm, shivers shooting down her spine. “Too small for you,” Seungho said, and pulled out. Nakyum made a muffled noise of protest, unsure what she was complaining about, but Seungho had already eased the dick out of Nakyum’s mouth as well, left her lying weak and lax and empty on the soft cushions.

Her brain was so far away that it took her a moment to realise what Seungho was doing: swapping the dicks round, slotting the thick one wet with Nakyum’s spit into her harness and then taking the other one which was shining wet with - with -

“No,” Nakyum said, vision going blurry in the way that meant she’d teared up again, humiliation slapping heat into her cheeks. “No, it’s dirty–” and it was, a creamy bead of whiteness at its head, slick around the silicone.

“You’re right,” Seungho said, and fucked back into her, making Nakyum yowl at the size of it, the feeling that she was being stretched open, fucked as though for the first time today except that she was so swollen and sensitive. “I do like it when you cry.”

The used dick went into her mouth and there was no use not crying, tears spilling down her cheeks as she sucked her own taste off it, all the evidence of how greedy she was for Seungho. Seungho thumbed away the tears, groaning almost to herself, not letting up the pace so that Nakyum had to keep sucking rhythmically or risk choking at a sudden thrust of Seungho’s hips.

When she had settled into it Seungho drew out and put her onto her knees, sliding back in and somehow reaching even deeper inside her, making Nakyum’s eyes roll back into her head. She put the other dick in front of Nakyum and this time Nakyum held the base herself, bobbing her head over it, tongue flat on the underside, unable to hold herself back or feel ashamed anymore. She sucked as if Seungho was wearing it, as if Seungho could feel it, and maybe Seungho could because she said, “Deeper, you can do better than that,” and put her hand on the back of Nakyum’s head, pushing her down until she gagged. There were two of them, Nakyum thought, almost delirious, the Seungho from now and the Seungho from before, both of them here in the room taking what they wanted from her body. Thick spit spilled over her hand where it was clutched around the base and this time Nakyum was definitely coming, vision sparking at the edges and pussy convulsing around Seungho’s demanding dick, plunging inside her.

After that on her side with Seungho spooned up behind her, dick sliding easily in and out, lazy tilts of their hips. Seungho had one arm around Nakyum’s neck to hold her close and the other holding the second dick up to Nakyum’s mouth, though this time she was less forceful, let Nakyum suckle at it, occasionally slapped the wet silicone against Nakyum’s burning cheeks and laughed to herself. Her breath was hitching behind Nakyum. The light was close and dim around them and Nakyum felt open and wet and raw in Seungho’s grip, sailing dazed through the high of whatever orgasm Seungho demanded from her, the material rustling beneath them.

No way that Nakyum could pretend she hadn’t wanted this, no way she could argue Seungho had tricked or forced her. Not least for the way when Seungho finally slid out from her and tossed both dicks aside, Nakyum crawled devotedly down the pile of cushions, desperate and happy to get her mouth straight on Seungho. She ate her out with broad, careful swipes of her tongue, never as strategic at this as Seungho was but dizzy with the taste and smell of her, Seungho’s knuckles tight in her hair and Seungho grinding her cunt up against Nakyum’s mouth.

“Good girl,” Seungho mumbled, which meant she must be getting close, and meant she must have already come a few times, to be so sweet. “Good girl, there you are, right where you’re meant to be.” Nakyum’s eyelashes fluttered dreamily against her cheeks. Unlike Inhun, Seungho had never wanted them to be equals. She’d never wanted Nakyum to change to be more like her. She’d always been delighted by the ways they were different.

“Who was the second,” Seungho said.

“Huh?” Nakyum blinked up at her, sleepy. Seungho had moved them to a bed, scooped Nakyum up and carried her naked down the hallway, nodding carelessly to Mr Kim, who passed them with his mouth in a fixed, unhappy line. Nakyum had been too out of it to even squeak and hide her face against Seungho’s neck, but she was a little more aware now, worn out but back in her head. Seungho had called for booze and pastries, which she fed indulgently to Nakyum, thumb sliding over Nakyum’s bottom lip. She’d made Nakyum take a sip from her carafe too, and laughed when Nakyum coughed and spluttered at the soju’s hot burn, but didn’t force anymore down Nakyum’s throat.

Now they were lying flat on Seungho’s bed, Nakyum curled up against Seungho, mouthing idly at her shoulder so there was a little shiny patch of dried drool. Seungho hadn’t seemed to mind before but there was a faint frown line on her brow now and her tone was stern.

“You said you’ve been with two people since me. The scholar was one. And the other?”

Nakyum hesitated. There was no reason to lie, though. “Min,” she said, and watched Seungho’s fists clench. “It wasn’t in high school,” she added hurriedly, though that didn’t do much to change Seungho’s expression. “Min was nice enough after you left but Jihwa cut me out entirely and I guess Min had to pick her loyalties. She left at the end of the year. I thought I’d never see her again, either, but we ran into each other in Busan, my second year. It was her birthday but she was on her own. I think she’d just had a breakup and she asked me to go to dinner with her and then up to her hotel room.” It might have been the longest speech she’d ever given Seungho; she drew a breath and asked, “Are you angry?”

“Not at you,” Seungho said, and seemed to mean it; she hadn’t shrugged Nakyum off, anyway, or started dressing or stalking about the room, usually good indications of a thunderstorm to follow. In fact she looked faintly interested by the length of Nakyum’s story, as though a pet had just learned a new trick. “She’s lucky she moved to London.”

“She offered to take me with her to Europe, actually,” Nakyum said, newly daring from the look on Seungho’s face. “She said she’d pay for everything, but I liked my classes and I was worried that you would hear about it.”

“And come storming across the sea to punish you?”

Nakyum flushed. Actually she’d been worried Seungho would hear and think it was funny, how pathetic, Min picking up her leftover scraps. But Seungho wasn’t laughing now and she’d imagined an entirely different reaction. Nakyum pictured it for a moment, sitting in some Parisian cafe meekly listening to Min’s latest bawdy story and the door swinging wide, Seungho glittering and dangerous in its frame.

“I’m glad I stayed in Busan,” Nakyum said. “I like the sea. And it’s easy to come back here whenever I like.”

“Mm,” Seungho said, lost in thought.

Nakyum drew in a breath. “Will you… be here? The next time I come home? Or will you be gone by then?”

“Hmm? I don’t know,” Seungho said, still distracted, and then her gaze flashed back down to Nakyum and she focused. “My father has been asking if I’m ‘recovered’ -- he thinks you can cure sexual deviance with exile. But I’m not sure I want to go back to Seoul. I’m sick of being supervised, and I’m not interested in working anymore. This house isn’t so bad. The quiet isn’t ideal, but the privacy appeals to me. I could hire more staff in the New Year. Invite some old friends up. It’s been too long since the house has seen a party.”

“Old friends,” Nakyum repeated.

“Not Min, that’s for sure. And I fell out with Jiwah years ago. But my old crowd in Seoul.”

“Girls,” Nakyum said.

She wasn’t sure if she was being teased or not, until Seungho gave her that fox-like grin and said, “That’s the idea.”

Nakyum folded her arms. It wasn’t that effective when she was naked and bundled up against Seungho’s chest, but she did her best. “Well - have fun. Enjoy.”

“What, you’re never going to visit again?”

“Not if there’s - I’m not going to compete for your attention.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m too old for that now.”

Seungho snorted. She grabbed Nakyum’s shoulder and tugged her back firmly in place where she’d been wriggling around, hooking an arm around Nakyum, just close enough to her throat to be worrying. Nakyum froze in place, and so it didn’t matter that Seungho’s voice dropped low, it was easy to hear her. “There was never any competition.”

“Then - maybe.” Nakyum’s voice came out very quiet too. “I might come back to visit you. In the spring.”

“Maybe you could give me your phone number,” Seungho said casually, “and then I can tell you when the house is ready for guests.”