Aria's mind stirs in the deep of night, iridescent warmth creeping into her limbs and head, her pale skin is sweat drenched, the sky is a deep blue, few glittering stars visible in the wide windows and the moon well covered by dark clouds.
She's on a wide bed, her hands curled on a green pillow next to her head.
She'd been drinking and then what?
Her fingers are clumsy and stiff, she must have drunk one too many, the first thing she notices is the soft rustling by her bedside, automatically Aria turns rigid as her head snaps to the side, long forgotten instincts coming to life dizzyingly until her eyes fall on a man and the tension bleeds from her body, Aria settles back into the fold of pillows.
Han Juhan is a dark sentinel bathed in orange light bowed over a thick stack of papers, pen busily scratching away, the black bathrobe is loose, revealing pale skin, his black hair flat, droplets dripping on his hand from the tips. He huffs, wiping the water mindlessly before returning to his work.
Vague memories of soft-spoken words filter into her mind, but Aria cannot really place them in a recognizable order. He must have taken care of her, the reason why escaping her understanding, she'd deemed him a man without honour and no honourless man would see to an unconscious woman's safety without taking any liberties. She expected the worst when the effects of the drug had made themselves present, expected to wake up the next day, body littered by more marks and disgust sitting heavily in her stomach.
Instead, Aria finds that although her body has been wiped down - a flashing thought of vomit and horrible stench quell her suspicion - she's wearing a large cotton t-shirt, and as she gingerly slides her legs over the edge of the bed, shorts that are only kept up by tight drawstring.
"Sit down, darling."
His voice is sharp and cutting, softened somewhat by the endearment. Aria reminds herself that there is no good bone in this man, his chivalry could as easily have been driven solely by ego. That he's probably a married man.
Her eyes travel the wide room critically, her clothes nowhere to be seen. She supposes she could do worse than her current attire and makes for one of the many doors. It leads to a cavernous bathroom, the pressure on her bladder forces Aria to step in, she startles as her legs give in like mush, the muscles quivering.
It is then, in the quiet of the room, that the shock of what could have happened washes over Aria, stumbling to the sink, she fumbles with the tap blessedly splashing cold water on her face when it turns on. If he hadn't...if Aria had...she could have been...
Her vision shakes or is it her hands? Aria curls the digits over the rim, an odd feeling of deja vu hitting her square in the face.
There's a gentle tap on the door, a low voice following it, Aria stares minutely at the door.
"Aria, come out. You need to rest."
Han Juhan's voice is calm and soothing, no sharp bite hidden beyond their edge, she thinks it might be something worse hiding in his words, something that smells too much like pity. Aria wrenches the door open; she can feel the strength sapping from her body with that action.
"I'm leaving," she says, eyes lowering, not daring to raise up, to meet deep pools filled with pity.
The simmering boiling fury is not aimed at him, but rather at her own foolishness and Aria cannot stand another minute of being faced with her recklessness. She'd thought she overcame this trait, long ago when Aria had been an ambitious woman with nothing to lose except her most precious jewels; what a hefty price that had been.
She cannot afford the same mistake.
His hand wraps around her forearm, firm but not tight, she could get free if she wanted to, she could rip her arm free and storm off, but foolishly their eyes meet and she's delayed unnecessarily by the open vulnerability she finds there.
What a strange man, and a stranger situation yet.
Aria leans in unconsciously, her free hand brushing over his cheek, his head leans in to the touch, eyes fluttering shut, startlingly Aria finds the skin to be bone cold beneath her warmth. Her eyes fall on her hand, how odd that for once she is the one to be warm, Aria had grown used to people flinching at the chill forever imprinted on her skin. She is not Arianna Erwin anymore.
But her principles still stand true.
Aria recoils, staggering back when he makes to follow her until he pauses his advance and a neutral, guarded expression swiftly slides on his face. She doesn't give time for the regret to sink in, abruptly whirling around and barrelling for the door. She pulls the door open but before she can step through, an arm sneaks past her, slamming the wooden structure so loudly the impact echoes around them. Aria blinks owlishly at the door, still confused even as he presses close to her back, an arm wrapping firmly around her waist.
"Where do you think you're going in that state? At least wait until morning, I will have my assistant bring proper clothes," he says it urgently, the hot words low and spoken directly into her ear.
Her head spins, the scent of pine, mint and freshness assaulting her nose, Aria attempts to break free, but his grip holds, she turns in his arms, at least that concession he allows.
Aria bristles. How dare he treat her like she's some kind of pet?
"I'm afraid your wife might have the wrong impression, sir."
"Aria - "
"You and I, we're not that close. Don't call my name with so much familiarity, it makes me sick."
She shoves at his chest, her lips curling down, she is close to an outburst, she knows, tries to subdue it yet the fury still licks at her insides.
"Aria - "
His voice is tender, too calm, it only serves to aggravate Aria. Her hand raised high in the air, the hot flash of anger clouding her mind.
"Men like you are worse than scum, if you're married you should be honest."
He catches her by the wrist, sweetly kissing the inside where the skin is pale, his lips trail the blue-green veins running down her arm. Aria's mouth drops open, her mind whirring to a stop, even she could not predict this sort of shameless turn. Aria breaths in deeply, she's a second away from kicking his nether regions into oblivion when his next words make her pause.
"I have been separated from my wife for the last 5 years."
"What? Then why...?"
"I cannot be seen in public, especially with a young woman because she would use that to her advantage. My wife...she is a difficult woman to deal with."
Aria deflates, the tension leaving her at once, her legs feel weak and just about to give in, she presses her forehead to his chest, staggeringly the slow rise of his chest grounds her.
"You're separated but not divorced?"
Her voice is muffled, a thin whisper mellowed out, his palm presses hot and heavy on her back, the other curling on her nape, fingers digging in, pleasantly easing the tension gathered there. He bends over her, nuzzling his face on top of her head and Aria sighs; they are strangers, this closeness of theirs borders on bizarre but perhaps it is a mere simple attachment formed from vulnerability. He was the first person in this world she'd been intimate with and he had been a gallant man, for all that she'd been furious at the mere idea of being a third person in his marriage; and she had been a rare reprieve from an undoubtedly toxic marriage and many years of celibacy.
"My wife is a difficult woman, she won't sign the divorce papers." He whispers, voice cracking.
Aria surges up, hands cupping his face gently, his gaze meets hers, eyes wide, a twinkle in them soon covered as the lids droop, gaze lowering to her lips. There's hunger in them, plain as day, burning hotly into her very core, but his eyes crinkle then, a look so lost it tugs at her reason. She tips his chin up, their kiss is a slow thing, gentle, almost meticulous, he holds his body statue still, his fingers curling into tight fists.
Aria moans beseechingly, drawing back just an inch, his breath fanning warmly over her parted lips. They stand there, frozen in the moment as they raggedly draw breath in despite the gentleness of the kiss, and then he gives in, fingers unfurling, scrunching the t-shirt as he draws her flush to the hard planes of his body. Aria's breath hitches, a swarm tickling her abdomen. His hand slides down, grabbing a handful of her arse, squeezing, and pulling her in, the friction dragging a rugged moan from his mouth. Aria hitches her leg over his waist and when his hand slides lower to her thigh she follows the flow wrapping both legs around his waist. Their lips meet in a frenzy, deep and wet, his lips drag over her bottom lip teasingly and Aria writhes as he pins her to the door. The hand curled over the back of her neck tangles into her hair, tugging her head back, grip just a shade shy of being painful, it only makes goosebumps race down her back.
There is something charged in this encounter, not like their first when they fell into each other's arms in a momentary decision made from frustration and desperation - oh, there's plenty of that between them even now - this moment somehow feels far more intimate.
His hips snap forward, a strangled moan escaping past her lips as she throws her head back, he takes the opportunity to lower his mouth to her neck, peppering messy, open mouthed kisses, his teeth bite teasingly at the juncture between her shoulders and neck, it's too much and not enough simultaneously. Han Juhan sets a rhythm that is punishing, relentless, she can feel him, heated and heavy, aches with the need to rip the layers separating them, to feel his cool skin pressed to her own, her body buzzing desperately.
His hand tugs on her hair, shifting her head to the side for better access and once that is done, it lands firmly on her chest, pinching her nipple unrelentingly. Aria gasps, legs curling tighter around him. He doesn't linger there long, hand dropping to the edge of the cotton shirt, slipping underneath where his palm is like a cold brand, the muscles of her stomach quiver. She keens high and needy, and Han Juhan pulls the t-shirt up in one smooth move, only the weight of his hips keeping her up. At once, his mouth sucks a path of hickeys to her breast, latching to the pink nipple, his other hand grasping the other, he squeezes once, twice, kneading the flesh mercilessly. Aria digs her fingers into his shoulder blades, having lost control of her voice, her moans fill the room.
She knows that if they go any further, they won't be able to stop, so she bites her cheek harshly, grounding the words through clenched teeth.
"We need to stop."
He takes a moment to process her command, takes two more to still his hips, thrusting one last heady time and Aria's toes curl. They don't part for a long time, breathing in sync, air humid, he pecks her once and from there it becomes a free for all, Aria laughs oddly charmed with his inability to pull away.
"You shouldn't tempt me, I won't be able to hold back," he says thickly.
Aria chuckles, her words bitten off as a knock on the door startles both, they eye each other before Han Juhan sets his eye sight over her shoulder.
"What is it?"
"Sir, it's been taken care of."
A man responds, voice faint and mellow but firm nonetheless, Han Juhan breaths in deeply, opens his mouth to speak and Aria gets the sudden inspiration to mess with him. She begins small, mouthing at his throat, he hums distractedly but otherwise continues with his instructions for the other man behind their closed door. Aria smirks, slipping her hand between their bodies, squeezing the bulge still there; she palms him, rubbing insistently with the hill of her palm. He curses under his breath, grip firm on her wrist.
"Sir are you alright?"
"Fine, you may leave." Han Juhan grunts, voice rough.
Aria peers up through her lashes coyly, his eyes are narrowed, glaring heatedly down at her, he cocks his head to the side and instead of the rebuke Aria is expecting, he smirks devilishly down at her.
Aria swallows.
His hand falls on her thigh, thumb rubbing circles, a shiver wracking her frame as it slowly crawls up, her breath hitches. Aria violently bites down on her lip to supress any sounds from escaping. His fingers dip under the shorts, he flicks her once, twice, presses his thumb down roughly, then earnestly begins to pleasure her. Aria's fingers clench on soft wool of his robe, loosening it further.
"Sir, should I pick you up as usual?" The secretary suddenly asks.
Aria curls over Han Juhan, biting the juncture between his throat and shoulder to supress her voice – he hadn't stopped his movements when the assistant made himself present, in fact, his pace increases until Aria must consciously work at holding herself in check. She pinches his arm, urging him to answer already, he looks at her through smouldering eyes for many long seconds before mercifully dismissing the assistant.
"Yes, you may leave."
They keep their gazes locked, the pleasure in her core building up to a crescendo, each stroke of his fingers hitting every spot perfectly, her legs clutch tightly around his waist and if her moans are a little too seductive, too well-timed to not be practiced no one knows except herself.
"Come for me, darling."
Han Juhan whispers roughly, each word dragging against her ear. Aria comes undone, vision spotting, toes curling, core pulsing.