I'd Give Up Forever to Have You. (annyeongz version)

Chapter (8)

In hindsight, watching Yujin train might not have been your best idea.

Definitely not beneficial to the efficiency of her training. Detrimental, even. You certainly didn't do much supervision as you've originally planned, that's for sure. It's not like she's complaining, though, so you think you're fine. More than fine.

Maybe you should start from the beginning. And the beginning is this: Yujin is a terrible patient. She's whiny and she does not want to stay in bed unless she's fucking you and since you're still a little too cautious about her injury, she hasn't been doing much of the fucking. Honestly, Yujin is a nightmare. You love her; God, you really fucking love her, but you're not blinded by the feeling, and even if you were, the obnoxiousness of Yujin the patient can be seen from space, and you'd have to be dead to be able to ignore it.

That's partially why you finally agreed to let her get back to training. The light version of it. Lightest one possible. And, of course, under your careful supervision, so that she's not tempted to do something dumb like lift a ton or whatever.

Not that you think she's dumb.

You're maybe kinda not sure what her workout routine consists of, apart from running. But, you figure, now is as good time as any to find out.

And then, Yujin, after grumbling that she's not a child and she can do it without being supervised like one, takes out boxing wraps. And proceeds to put them on her hands. She probably weren't as slow doing it as your imagination- your poor, overactive, incredibly turned on imagination- made it seem. But- crap. Holy crap on a cracker.

Yujin's putting her boxing wraps on and taking off her plaid shirt. You watch the material slowly slide down her toned arms, revealing muscles rippling with movement. Your gaze trails after it, envious because you suddenly want to be the one to touch her smooth skin in such intimate way. You want to trace your fingers down over her strong shoulders, down her biceps and back.

The shirt is quickly folded and placed on a bench before Yujin returns to the mats laid out on her basement floor, not wasting any time before she starts jumping up and down, lightly shaking her hands. And- her tank top is really tight. Like, really, really tight. It clings to her abs, outlining each and every one as she jumps. And they jump with her. Just like her breasts, and- it's a little chilly down here, in the basement, and Yujin's only wearing a thin sports bra, and you really, really want to circle her nipples that are begging for attention with your tongue.

So, long story short... Well, in your defense, you- barely- made it through her warming-up routine before you jumped her. She even managed to throw a couple of punches at the bag. And, honestly, it was her own doing. She had to know she shouldn't have locked gazes with you after throwing a particularly vicious right hook at the punching bag. She's valedictorian, for God's sake. She's ought to know what the sight of her sweaty and breathless and half-naked does to poor innocent girls.

A girl. As in, singular. At least, you hope so. She did say she loved you, so it's only logical to assume the two of you are exclusive now. But there's always a chance that Yujin wouldn't mind loving someone else- but the thought twists your stomach, and you will it away.

Because she's standing in front of you, brown eyes burning bright and sweat sliding down her brow, and you don't want to think about anything else.

She's silent and still as you move towards her, and you are slow. Not tentative, no. You're caught in this moment. Both of you. It's so- airy and precious and yours, and you don't want to rush it.

It feels like eternity before your hands finally slide up her biceps and clasp together behind her neck.

You can't fight the shiver that runs down her spine when her palms trace over your back, resting just shy of your ass as she's gazing into your eyes. You can't, and you don't want to.