Pairing: BomSoo
Word Count: 395

Hush

In precise, languid droves, he inhaled the taut end of his freshly lit cigarette, the finely cut tobacco heavy on the expanse of his moist tongue, his teeth mindful of the thin paper. Solemn, perhaps a bit dazed, in this ungodly hour, his murky thoughts drifted to the perimeters of the room, his thick brows creased in addled concentration upon discovering his companion slumbering wholeheartedly away in the confines of her cotton pillow.

Long, wavy locks, with a color reminiscent of the setting sun, weaved and tangled across the gentle rise of her chest, her well-endowed cleavage exposed to depraved eyes with the shirt loosely and hastily buttoned on her figure.  

Bemused, he plucked the wispy, sheer material, which he henceforth realized to be a shirt of his own, and kneaded the worn fabric between the tips of his fingers, his ministrations soon disrupted by the soft rumblings of laughter.  

"My, my, aren't we fired up early today?" 

Pointedly dismissing the haughty comment, and not-so-subtle double entendre, he discarded his cigarette on a nearby tray, smacked a pillow atop her angelic features, and basked in the cries of her outrage. 

"," She murmured, her palm splayed on the sore ache in her neck as she sat forward. "You were so rough last night - you could at least cut me a break. Hell, if anything, you should be spoiling this ol' hag." 

"What bull are you saying now, Bom? You are young."

Melodious chirps permeated the hollowed atmosphere, negated the tension, and digressed from the original intent of her complaints, her heart and speech enamored by his stony resolve. Sweetly humming with assent, she angled over the quirked lines of his own, and tried his patience in earnest temptation. 

"I'm thirty; I hardly count as young anymore. Ah, I'm a washed up old-maid." A plethora of feathery kisses were pressed to the contours of his jaw, her arms secured nicely on the stretch of his bare shoulders. "But it's cute that you think so."

Sharply in-tune with his hormones, he shifted closer to her, her s crushed by his firm torso, her thighs tight in his grip, her lips lavished by harsh nicotine kisses until he groaned in weak restraint and toppled them back into the comfort of the springy mattress. 

"You're an idiot." 

His gravelly retort was met with an undignified squawk. 

"Hey!"

A/N: this was def where bom laid out her insecurity of old age and soo shut her up with some sweet lovin' because she's not old and even if she was he'd still love her all the same. yes.

/cries/ i'll write more next time.