[Eight hours earlier]
The kiss had started slow, somewhere in the quiet room away from the noise of the party, and turned into something neither of them fully controlled the moment Jihan lifted him onto the bed.
Jae-min's head was swimming—champagne, then whatever had come after, the two of them a little too far gone to notice how fast things were moving until they already had. Jihan's hands were careful even through the haze, pulling his shirt off slow, murmuring something against his jaw that Jae-min didn't quite catch over the pounding of his own pulse.
Then Jihan reached for his own belt.
Jae-min's heart slammed hard against his ribs.
He'd never done this before. Not with anyone. Somewhere underneath the alcohol and the warmth and the very real, very confusing pull toward the man leaning over him, a small, clear voice cut through everything else: *I'm not ready for this.*
Jihan leaned in again, pants already loosened, and Jae-min pushed against his chest.
"Wait—"
