Instead of Breakfast...
Trilling. The alarm jolted Ayoung awake. Her body wouldn't move. A dull ache spread from her waist down to her thighs, and a throbbing pulsed between her legs. She'd lain there until dawn before consciousness finally slipped away.
Trilling. The alarm rang again. She reached out hastily, but her body refused to budge. A warm body heat pressed against her back. An arm locked around her waist, and slow breaths tickled the nape of her neck.
Jinho's embrace. Her heart began to race.
Carefully, she lifted his arm and twisted to grab her phone, silencing the alarm. She exhaled and turned her head. His sleeping face was close. His breaths were even and deep. With those cool eyes closed, he looked his age. Her son's friend. The innocence of twenty.
Yet this boy had turned her into a woman all night long.
Her gaze lingered on his lips. Lips that had bitten, sucked, and licked her through the night. Staring at them now, a fresh throb ignited deep in her lower belly, heat spreading.
Hah. Ayoung truly thought she'd lost her mind.
Gazing at his sleeping face flushed her cheeks; she turned away. She nudged her body bit by bit to slip out from under his arm. Her shoulder freed, her waist sliding free—then her wrist was caught.
"Where you going?"
His voice was thick with sleep.
"Oh... to make breakfast for Woochan."
Jinho's brow furrowed. "It's the weekend."
"St... still."
"Don't go. Stay here."
His arm tightened around her waist, yanking her back. Nestled against his chest, she felt relief and comfort. Her heart pounded, her body heating up again. She wanted to stay like this. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd been held in someone's arms. Through hardship, fear, sleepless dawns staring at the ceiling—Ayoung had always been alone.
But now, Jinho held and protected her. No matter how it started, it was this boy who made her feel like a woman.
Still, she had to get to the kitchen. She needed to set the table before Woochan woke. He could never find out about this.
Ayoung gently stroked the hand she'd placed atop his arm. "He... he's going to the library after breakfast... so we can be together all day."
Jinho chuckled softly. "What, after all that, you still want more?"
"N... not like that."
His words flustered her, scattering her reply.
Smack. A light slap on her ass.
"Ahnt...!"
"Hurry back."
Her cheeks burned like they might burst. Spanked by a boy her son's age—and instead of anger, heat raced from the spot straight to her core. Being handled like this excited her.
She tamped down the arousal, slid off the bed, and gathered her shorts and T-shirt from the scattered clothes on the floor. Bending to search for underwear, a voice came from behind.
"No panties."
Her hand froze. "Oh... b... but then."
"We'll do it again right after."
A sharp tug low in her belly. The embarrassing part was how her body reacted first.
"Uh... okay. Got it."
In the end, she left the room in just shorts and a T-shirt.
The living room was quiet. Woochan's door remained closed. She locked the bathroom door and turned on the shower. Warm water cascaded over her shoulders, washing away the night's remnants. Her inner thighs stung on contact—raw flesh inflamed red from the heat.
Hah. She bowed her head, surveying her body. It started below her neck. Shoulders, upper breasts, sides. Bite marks and red hickeys dotted her skin, borders sharp as if deliberately placed where clothes could hide them.
She pressed a finger to one on her breast. Dull pain revived the night's sensations beneath her skin. Her body was marked like someone's possession. Jinho's claim—even if from her son's friend—filled her with pride.
The mirror fogged with steam. Wiping a spot with her handknuckle revealed her face. A sigh escaped. Faint crow's feet at her eyes. Lines sharpening with every glance. Time she'd had no leisure to face had piled onto her features.
If I were younger, would he keep me by his side longer? If I were prettier, less aged, could I linger in his arms more?
Heat pulsed between her legs again. Her ravaged body still burned for him at the mere thought.
Get a grip. He wouldn't hold her forever. It would end someday—she'd been through it before.
But for now... just this time, couldn't she indulge a little?
She toweled off. The fabric rasping over his marks left a lingering sting. She pulled on her shorts and tugged the T-shirt over her head. The empty space without underwear felt oddly vacant. Every step rubbed fabric directly on skin, her body imprinting his command.
In the kitchen preparing breakfast, the sensation inside her shorts lingered.
Setting spoons on the table, Woochan's door opened.
"Sleep well?"
"Yeah... head hurts. Urgh."
Woochan rubbed his forehead as he sat.
"I made bean sprout soup."
"Thanks, Mom."
His gaze flicked to her, then dropped to the table. A split second. In that instant, her shoulders hunched. The fact she wore no underwear sent heat crawling up her body to her throat.
Did he notice? No way.
Ayoung eyed Woochan cautiously.
"Where's Jinho?"
Her heart plummeted at his question.
"Dunno... haven't seen him. Maybe he left early?"
"Huh."
She stirred the soup, eyes downcast. Her gaze darted to the master bedroom, then away.
Sorry, son. Mom's hiding that boy in her room. I spent the night in your friend's arms.
She picked up her spoon. The broth wouldn't go down.
"Going to the library after breakfast?"
"Huh? Oh... thinking of chilling at home."
Her spoon paused.
"But you're prepping for the exam."
"Yeah."
"So go."
Her voice pitched higher than usual. Woochan tilted his head but slurped his soup and let it pass.
"Okay, got it."
A pang stabbed her chest. She knew why she was pushing her son out—to spend time with the man in her bed. Pathetic, reverting to woman before mother.
Yet she couldn't stop. Thoughts of him waiting dissolved her guilt.
Woochan finished, retreated to his room to prepare. Sounds of packing, then brushing teeth in the bathroom followed. Ayoung cleared the table, listening.
Finally, Woochan shouldered his bag at the door.
"I'm off."
"Yeah... study hard."
The door lock beeped; the door shut. Silence fell.
Rinsing the last dish at the sink, her eyes kept drifting to the master bedroom. He was beyond that closed door.
At the bedroom door, she gripped the handle, released, gripped again. Exhaled once, pushed it open.
Jinho propped on an elbow, watching her. Eyes that said he'd been waiting since she entered.
"You lie so well."
"I... that."
Her head bowed.
"You make breakfast for him, but not me?"
"Oh... I'll... make yours right away."
As she turned to go, he grabbed her wrist. The pull sent her tumbling back, her back hitting his chest. His arm wrapped her waist; his breath grazed her ear.
"I wanna eat you first, auntie."
Her heart thundered. She shouldn't melt at such words. Obvious lines. She'd heard worse all night.
Yet in this room thick with their scent, caught in his grasp, this one phrase pierced deeper than any from the night. He wanted her now.
She didn't expect forever. But his words filled the void in her heart.
His hand slipped under her T-shirt from behind. Eyes closing in anticipation, Ayoung—
---
I spent the entire weekend with Ayoung. So much that my back ached. The saying about late-bloomer thieves not knowing when to quit fit perfectly. She showed with her whole body what happens when a woman discovers men for the first time.
The gap between the auntie who barely knew dick and the one now clinging to me? That thrilled me more.
Pushing open the classroom back door, kids clustered around a desk ahead of mine. What the hell. Peering closer—Park Yejin's seat. Five or six surrounded it. Two guys, three girls. Familiar faces. Couldn't place them right away, but they had no business here. Their attitudes and gear screamed well-off families. The other kids sat back, watching warily.
Couldn't hear what they said to her, but the vibe wasn't friendly. Yejin hunched, head down.
I dragged my chair loudly and sat. Glances my way. Then they scattered from her desk. One knocked her desk with a finger on the way out the back.
Hmm.
"Hey."
"Eek...!"
Yejin jumped, turning.
"What was that."
"Huh? Wh... what?"
"Them."
"Oh... nothing."
Head down, lips sealed. Her attitude pissed me off.
"I asked. Answer me."
"It... really was nothing."
Her pale, desperate denial only fueled suspicion. Something tangled her up, but fear wouldn't loosen her tongue now.
"Fine."
Relief washed over her as she turned forward.
Afternoon cram class. Yejin's seat empty. Kim Jinhee paused at her name during roll call. No expression change, but her eyes lingered on the spot before moving on.
Woochan kept glancing at the empty seat beside him. Anxious—probably no reply to his texts.
I asked him. "You have Yejin's number."
"Yeah."
"You call?"
"I... did. No answer."
"You really..."
Irritated at his do-nothing attitude despite no reply—Ayoung's face flashed, so I held back.
Sigh. Fuck. Whose kid is this punk.
Next day. Yejin stared at her notebook, head down. I spun a chair backward, sat facing her. Her eyes darted left, right, then down.
"Why'd you skip yesterday."
"F... family stuff."
"Hey, you think I'm a pushover?"
"N... no."
"I play nice, so you think it's easy?"
"Ab... absolutely not."
Her phone buzzed. Vibration whirred on the desk. Her eyes flicked from my face to the phone, back up. Urgent call she couldn't ignore.
"Unlock it."
"Wh... uh... J, Jinho."
"Unlock."
Her trembling finger tapped the screen. Phone in my hand. One notification.
[See you tonight after dinner.]
Sender's name. Familiar... ah, right. One from Jinhee's sister's case files. From the PI report.
Handed it back. Her eyes red behind glasses. Hadn't even hit her—why the tears?
Annoying as fuck.
"What do they want."
"..."
Suppressing rising irritation, I softened. "Just asking. So answer."
"Th... they just hang out with me."
"Hang out?"
"Buy me food... clothes... stuff like that."
"Not bullying?"
"Yeah... they're nice. Really."
She nodded, but fingers dug into the phone edge. Uneasy. Saying it aloud, doubting herself—but wanting to believe. Gullible idiot.
Nice? Bullshit.
These kids weren't poor. So why drag around a broke nobody? Scapegoat. Keep a patsy close, toss 'em under the bus if shit hits.
We were just friends. Jae did it all. We lawyered up and slipped free.
Jinhee's sister's file flashed in my mind. Confirmed bully victim. No money, no pull. Treated well, thought they were friends—totally abandoned.
Investigation noted rocky sis relationship. Jinhee study-obsessed, capable. Saw it as their salvation. Naive.
Sister? Average grades, looks. Constant comparison. Perfect sis always prioritizing her? Inferiority complex. Pushed her outward. Targeted by that crew. Ended in suicide.
"Hey."
"Y... yeah?"
"Save my number."
I recited mine; shaky fingers saved it. I called mine from hers, saved hers.
"Anything off, tell me right away."
"Wh... why."
"Why. Do what I say."
She shut her mouth. Uneasy face, but pocketed the phone with a nod.
Explanations would be wasted. No loyalty to save her ass.
Just—if it hooks Jinhee, jackpot. Bonus good-guy cosplay ain't bad.