“And she looked so happy and beautiful, and I knew because when I wasn't with her I wanted to be, and when I was, I never wanted to leave her presence.”

– How Did You Know You Were In Love

“And lastly to my cousin, Park Yoochun, who had a hell of a time organizing everything.. Man, I love you.”

The gathered crowd chuckled, their glasses raised for a toast the elated groom offered. I'd done it. I've gone through the dreaded six months of pre-wedding chaos and managed to pass unscathed in both body and dignity. Park Jonghun was wedded and everyone including the perfectionist sister-of-the-bride was chipper than a drunk grasshopper.

I saluted in reply. My watch read minutes after ten – time that signalled it was okay to leave. I have been in attendance since the toasts started at seven, suffering through the night. I've socialized more than I usually did, drank an extra two glasses of champagne and smiled my week’s quota. The only thing I didn’t do was take notes.

Nevertheless, Mother would be proud. I barely last an hour in these functions. Had it not been for this wedding, as is the reason for everything I've exerted effort on the past months, nobody would find me as soon as the reception started. 

“Hyung!”

Of the lesser reasons my presence is needed was that I adopted the role of an unofficial albeit very qualified and good-looking babysitter. Such is my purpose when one of the maknaes is around.

“Changmin-ah, when will you stop eating?”

“When I stop to talk. Like now.” The words were barely audible from the way the maknae spoke and chew in a fashion that would put a goat to shame. He had eaten a share that would sum the servings each guest had pieced off. Really, and he’s the Shim chaebol. “You’ve got to try this, hyung. Superb!”

The look I gave him should have interpreted my satisfaction that he could talk and masticate at the same time. “You’ve got some skill, man.”

Said person grinned, flashing those pearly whites before resuming the almost deadly precision by which he ground the cake to bits.

“Ey hyung, where’s Cassie noona?”

Both of our heads turned to scan the gazebo. Between formal wear, headdresses and columnar stands, I spotted her and Yunho on the far left, swaying to the song. She smiled to something he had whispered.

“There.”

“And Jae hyung?”

“There,” and again I point. Our eldest was not hard to find compared to the dancing pair. He stood at the far table with a few associates, nursing drinks that could have already been a third serving.

“How about --”

“Changmin, if you came here only to ask me where everyone else is, I’m going to kick you.”

“But hyung,” he pouted, “I was striking small talk.”

“What do we need that for?”

“Socialization? Duh.”

“And here I thought you’re less of a pretender than me.”

“But —"

“Go away.”

He frowned and made a face, stabbing his fork on that still-halved piece of cake and stuffing it into his mouth, chewing with contempt that should have been for me. He mumbled about finding a certain duckbutt and grudgingly left.

I had to suppress my chuckle and resort to shaking my head. He would be okay in a while, given time to cool from his whining. Of course that doesn't give me excuse not to apologize. But until I'm sure he'd accept it, I plan to steer clear of my grumpy brother's path.

“Another glass, sir?”

The waiter paused in offer, but I patted the man's back in decline, setting the empty flute on the tray. I'm going to find the rest of the gang and retire for the night.

Such was the agenda when familiarity struck at the passing of this, without exaggeration, zooming entity.

“Woah, woah,” my hand instinctively stuck out to catch her arm. "Slow down, you."

She whirled with the undisguised intent to reprimand whoever it was that dared rob her off momentum. Her expression said as much. As she realized my identity, though, she started to slowly smile.

“Director Park~”

Well hello to you too dimple, I mused.

--&--

“What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t.”

In between chuckles and hushed words, I managed to slip us into the room and close the door with a kick. Buttons clattered on the floor. She laughed, barely able to find her footing as she stepped backwards. Somewhere behind us, several more articles of clothing littered the floor. We tripped, somebody cursed and in the end we fell. 

What happened between the time we met again and now would be summarized to the fact that attraction simply was inevitable.

It did not help that her friend, or so that’s what she calls him because they haven’t really gotten in that level yet, was out to someplace she couldn’t even pronounce the name of, shaking hands and saying hellos in a language she probably could only speak when she was asleep. He was supposed to be her date today – a bright point in her muddled sanity – only to cancel at the last minute because all things aside, diplomatic relations were more enjoyable than her.

She’s miserable, tired, alone and her feet hurt.

Well, shoot, that was sweet.

And so when I played yet another uncalled-for yet very deserving role of being her savior for the night.. Well, let's just say that took the last straw. She's dying to leave. I'm bored. We've met before and definitely found each other engaging enough for company. Hormones may have raged within that span of time and eventually, I was driving to her place and the rest is history.

“Much as I’m –” she panted as my mouth worked on her neck, “enjoying – gods yes –” Have I told you I appreciate a vocal partner? I'm very much obliged to please at the moment and with a tilt of her head, my lips latched onto the spot of flesh I knew would make her keen. She tugged at my hair. Mm, this is good. “I think we have to – – stop.”

Considering that she was grasping my shirt and undoing my buttons, I decided to ignore her words. Sometimes a woman just doesn't know what she wants. In the same manner, sometimes they just don't know what a man's capable of giving them. Allow me to indulge in ego talk while I divulge her of more clothing and tell you that , ladies and gentlemen, was the most selfish thing a man had discovered. For one like me, it allows distraction from all rational thinking and provides my woman of choice a kind of teasing that ends into pleasurable torment, driving her to beg for more while I bask (without shame, yes) in the greatness of my abilities as a lover. How else could a man account for his qualifications but in the sensual responses of a woman?  

By this time we have slipped onto the couch, her skirt having pooled around her waist and a bare lengthy leg was draped over my hip. Gone was the prim do of her headdress, and I prove again the visual satisfaction a woman's unruly hair brings me. I've managed to pause short of ravishing her to discard my shirt.  One careless toss behind me and the next, she reaches for my belt..

"Off." She commands.

Yes mam.

One moment I begin to stand and the next, I'm thrown on the floor quite lacking with grace. My only consolation was that whoever decided to bring me down (literally and figuratively) had been so kind to ensure that the floor was clean. Lemon scented too. And in between getting up and trying not to look too ashamed (because I'm not really sure if I was indeed pushed or I tripped), then I heard a most un-human sound.

Growling.

And because I knew that Twilight and The Vampire Diaries are only fictional, I resort to the next rational way of assuming things. There is a dog, behind me. Growling in a most unfriendly way. And it was when I realized she was chuckling.

"Down, Draco."

Draco tuned out to be a 50 pound Siberian Husky. And as if nothing was wrong, this creature practically pounced at me and started to my hand. I looked up to the outstretched hand of this dog's woman and grudgingly allowed myself to be pulled up.

"You okay?"

My expression might have been easily readable because she laughed. I smiled sheepishly and watched her gesture for the couch.

"I'm sorry, he tends to be aggressive to new people. He's quite harmless, really."

The woman was already making way to what I supposed was the kitchen, still half-undressed, and called out that she'd make coffee. I respond with an unintelligible sound that I left for her interpretation. Coffee was the last thing on my mind. But because I could not tell her that she should just come back so we could pick up where we left off, I sighed and decided to look more presentable despite the lack of buttons on my shirt. gods, can't we just forget about the coffee? And the dog? 

“The coffeemaker’s ruined at the moment. Instant in sachet alright?”

I'm not about to deny coffee just because it isn't brewed. "Yeah."

To