I Don't remember if there was anything but um ADULT STUFF?
The man is an insatiable beast.
Golden light spills into the large bedroom bathing everything in an orange glow, the French doors of the balcony are wide open, the slight breeze playing with the long curtains; peeking through the gaps every now and then is the figure of a tall man leaning over the railing, a cigarette loosely held between his lips.
Aria pads on bare feet, the dress shirt blowing up as she steps onto the balcony, her long hair a halo of brown locks.
Han Juhan's back ripples, muscles tightening deliciously before relaxing again. He glances over his shoulder, the edge of a smirk curled on his lips. Aria wrinkles her nose, stepping directly behind him to wind her arms around his waist. She breathes in deeply, basking in the scent of musk and cologne and the flowery smell of shampoo.
Maybe, she's become too attached to the first person she met in this strange world. Maybe, it was stupid and wild to fall in bed with a complete stranger. There was no doubt of one thing, though. They had absolute chemistry.
"You are a beast," she says, face smushed to his back.
"Yes, but you kept up just fine. In fact, not one of my partners had been able to hold on as long as you."
"I suppose you've had many of those."
She should not have said that, but her downfall has always been her need to keep what's hers to herself.
"You don't get to my age without having a dozen or so partners," he says sharply.
She's not expecting the bite in his words, nor the stiffening in his muscles. It's jarring. She hates it.
"Your age?"
Aria scoffs, pulling away to stand beside him, she nabs a cigarette and ignores his blatant glare. She's older than him, soul wise, she damn well deserves a smoke. A good lay was a good lay but there always came the aftermath, she's not entirely sure what the correct social reaction should be. She follows her gut.
"It doesn't matter."
"I'm old enough to be your father."
But he is not her father, he just happens to be a older gentleman who knows how to fuck a woman properly. Aria cannot tell him that, he would think her insane and then where would that get her in getting laid again? She can't explain herself. A hot rush fills her mind, she can't think of a proper answer.
"It doesn't matter!"
He stubs the butt of the cigarette with short stilted movements, crumbling it in his large hand, a mere wisp being whisked away by the currents.
"It's bad enough that I allowed this foolishness once - I'm leaving."
He rips away, striding into the bedroom, and begins a fruitless search for his shirt. Aria rips the dress shirt free, a button flying off, and shoves it at him without making eye contact.
"Foolishness, you weren't saying that when you were fucking me," she mutters.
Aria is standing naked, arms crossed over her chest, his back resolutely turned to her. Her eyes trace the many marks littered over her abdomen; they're reddish purple petals scattered on a fair canvas, around her waist are the beginning marks of handprints, which will surely be on her thighs too. She tries to see what he sees - a girl of nineteen, ruined and tainted after what should have been a harrowing experience. She's given into the stress and relief of a hero saving the day – that's what he thinks. How foolish indeed.
The sex had been good, better than good actually, she wouldn't mind having that around for the foreseeable future but is she willing to step over her dignity? Never. A good fuck is just a good fuck.
She would have let it go.
If he hadn't been so condescending, so very upright as if he hadn't been the one to ask for more, to roll in bed the whole dammed day too.
She strides across the room, blocking the doorway. His eyes skim down her body, settling on hers with a heavy lidded expression.
"You are a hypocrite."
"And you are being childish, as expected."
He makes to push past her and Aria lifts an eyebrow, challenging him to see if he'd like the outcome. Her temper is already frayed, between him and the system she'd like to see who has the guts to bear the full burnt of it.
Han Juhan sighs softly, ripping the shirt off to throw it at her, it smacks her in the face obscuring her view long enough for him to shoulder past. Aria scowls, stomping after him. Her foot twinges, she ignores it.
"Childish is you acting like I forced you into this!"
Aria nearly barrels over the stairs, but Han Juhab is fast, catching her around the middle. He pulls her to his chest, his subdued sigh caressing her collarbones (Aria had only done two buttons). They remain there, in the middle of the grand stairway, limbs tangled, eyes closed, for an eternity, only seconds but the peacefulness that settles over her for the first time in eons stretches that time infinitely. Aria grumbles when he pulls away. She follows him down the stairs, through the foyer, to the door, watching him intently. He slips his trainers back on, doesn't turn around once as he opens the door.
"Is it really the age difference?"
He pauses, tilts his head to the side but his back still faces her like an impenetrable wall.
"I cannot be seen with a woman out and about, much less one so young," he replies softly.
A stone drops heavy in her guts, the chill from the woods returning to her bones with a vengeance. Aria knows why a man cannot be seen with another woman, knows it deep in her soul, knows it in the lurching pain in her chest. This man, with his unfathomable eyes and puzzling words that speak of wisdom, this man she had admired solely on a mere short conversation, who'd made an impression in her mind like no other before, even if she cannot remember, the man she'd spent the day tossing in bed with (any surface really), this man was a married man.
"Get out."
Her words are grating, venomously spat.
He turns around, an apology in his eyes, an excuse on his tongue – Aria, short and demure, lifts her leg and kicks him squarely in the chest. He stumbles back, more from the shock, gracelessly tumbling on his behind.
"Men like you should rot in hell."
Aria slams the door shut.
She will never entertain a married man.