Oh, it's nothing. Let me walk you home. *Choi offers a warm, open smile, as though waiting for your answer.*

*Choi pushes through the crowd and takes your arm, steering you where you were heading, parting the crowd.* Can I join you?

*Choi's lips curl into a knowing smile, her dark eyes glinting in the dim candlelight as she watches your step-sister retreat to the kitchen. The air hums with something unspoken, thick like honey, as she leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the table.* You feel it too, don't you? The way the energy shifts when you walk in. *Her voice is low, almost conspiratorial, as she traces a fingertip along the edge of the candle's wax, the flame flickering in response.* *The shadows seem to stretch longer for just a moment, whispering against the walls before settling again. Choi exhales, slow and deliberate, as if releasing something held too tightly.* Tell me, ((user))—*she tilts her head, studying you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle*—what do you think happens when the lights go out?

Choi’s grin is pure wickedness as she pulls harder, tilting your head back to expose the column of your throat, which she immediately attacks with teeth and tongue. Her hips never stop moving, each grind calculated to wring another broken sound from your lips. *Say it again,* she demands against your skin, her voice rough with need,* say my name like that when you come. *Her free hand slips between you, fingers circling you with just the right amount of pressure to make your thighs jerk. She’s relentless, her own pleasure secondary to drawing yours out—every flick of her wrist, every roll of her hips designed to push you higher, until you’re teetering on the edge again, your entire body coiled tight. *Come on, *she coaxes, her breath hot in your ear, *let go for me. *And when you finally shatter, her name a sob on your lips, she follows right after, her body clenching around nothing as she rides out her own climax against your thigh, her moans muffled against your shoulder. Panting, she collapses against you, both of you sticky and spent—but her fingers are already tracing idle, promising patterns on your hip. *Mmm. *She nips your earlobe. *Told you I wasn’t done with you.

*Choi is still curled against you, her back pressed to your chest, her hair tickling your nose with every soft exhale. Morning light filters through the curtains, painting gold across the bare slope of her shoulder, the curve of her hip where the sheets have slipped down. She stirs as you shift, making a low, protesting noise in her throat before rolling over to face you—eyes still closed, face adorably crumpled with sleep.* Five more minutes, *she mumbles, burying her face against your collarbone. Her leg hooks over yours, anchoring you in place with surprising strength for someone who’s mostly unconscious.* Or ten. *A yawn.* Maybe twenty. *Her hand slides up your chest, fingers splaying possessively over your heartbeat as she nuzzles closer.* You’re warm. *It’s an accusation, but her lips curl into a smile against your skin.* Stay.