JUNGKOOK

Days on trial: 66

I'm half-naked, and so is she, remnants of the night before inked into her skin; plumy sunset bruises that hold no pain, just pleasure.

It dawned on me quite quickly that she was supposed to be seeing family today. I'd never been able to distinguish between hickeys and unblemished skin when I was a Mono– would she? There was no way her parents could see her like this. I was not going to let this be their first impression of me.

Lashes resting gently above her rosy cheeks, I studied her like the fine lines of my artwork. Mapping out the curves and convections of her face, I considered the way in which I'd paint her.

Lucid strokes of my thinnest brush would structure dusky pink lines on aged parchment, tracing her delicate features. Watercolours would be the only medium that could do her justice, dainty and beautiful, an endless flow of converging ideas and traits. I'd use pearlescent tones, watching fine glitters as they spiralled and swam in the watery base, mesmerizing me until they dried out to exhibit pure opulence.

She was encapsulating, and I knew that I'd never actually be able to do her justice, no matter how many hours I spent studying her. 

Perhaps it would be better if I stuck to photographing her – but even then, it would just be a snapshot of her smile in time. I needed the sound of her laughter too. 

Fine then. Film. I'd immortalise her in film. That would work - yet still I wouldn't be able to capture the smell of her perfu-

"Morning," she mumbled into the duvet, dragging me away from my endlessly turbulent thought process.

Maybe it was better not to worry so much about preserving her in these moments, and just revel in them instead.

"Hey sleepy head," I pulled her closer into my chest, as her arm snaked on top of my torso, not concerned with disturbing her now. Nestling my nose into the crown of her head, I pressed a deliberate kiss in the mess of her morning hair. Her lips reciprocated, pecking softly against the skin of my chest. "Happy Christmas, Annie."

"Merry Christmas, Koo," she half laughed, burying her head in my chest.

"Something funny?" I teased, stomach ravaged by butterflies.

Shaking her head, her voice was dulcet and muffled against my torso, lips brushing it innocuously as she spoke. "Just didn't expect to wake up here, that's all."

"No?" I gambled, closing my eyes as we sank into the ease of our new equilibrium. "Must be shit, considering you hate surprises."

"Fucking awful," she hummed, and I could feel her cheeks rise with gratification. "Worst surprise of my life."

"Agreed," I simpered, squeezing her tightly.

If I was being honest, which Annie made increasingly hard with her insistent need to pretend as if she didn't have any feelings (of any kind), then I would have told her that it was the best morning I'd had in a long while; perhaps in my whole life. 

But her desire to replace her feelings with borderline insulting terms of endearment meant that admitting such a thing would be impossible. I had to wait for her to concede first. There was no way I'd let her get away with thinking she had won.

"What time have you got to be at your parents?" 

I softened my grasp on her, tracing my fingers up and down her arm, which was still snugly wrapped around me.

"About one," she uncurled, stretching like a sleepy kitten. 

I rolled my body ever so minimally, trapping her in place with my own arm across her chest. Heat sparked inside of me as my skin came into contact with the silky satin of her bra. It was intolerable.

I wasn't quite sure at which point her laughter had evaporated into moans last night, or when my kisses had begun to trail down her neck and to the valley of her breasts, I just knew that they had – and it was a memory I didn't think I'd ever be able to forget.

It had been past midnight, and Christmas morning was already dawning on us. Our freinds had been asleep for hours by this point, a visit from Saint Nick due any time soon. None of that mattered, though, as I was holding exactly what I had asked for, and Annie had seemed intent on getting placed on the naughty list, instead.

Somewhere between my hands creeping up her sides and her shirt landing with a thud on the floor below us, she'd begun to work her hips against me, a sardonic smirk plastered all over her face. I knew that she was just teasing, and that she wasn't going to give herself to me, but it didn't stop my body from responding as if she was.

She felt like Christmas come early, except for the fact that Christmas was already here; I'd be the only one coming early. It would have been mortifying. God, I'm surprised that I didn't from the friction of her body against mine alone.

We were a tangled mess of arched backs and intertwined fingers, rosy lips and heavy breathing.

Anyone else and I would have been embarrassed by how unashamedly excited I had become, and so quickly too, but Annie simply never mentioned it. Instead, she rocked carefully against me, as if she wanted to revel in my embarrassment. She was cruel, but, oh God, so captivating. 

And so we'd sunk into my sheets, intoxicated by the movements of our bodies and the frantic peppering of our kisses. Passing out from the sheer exhaustion of our arousal, the morning had made way for a hedonistic hangover - and like all great hangover cures, I knew the best way to remedy the ache was to just get inebriated all over again.

"Are you kissing me, Jungkook?" She giggled as my lips pressed against her temple. Though my eyes were shut, I was mentally canvassed in colour; an explosion of soft pinks and deep reds, flecks of gold marbling through the sultry blend.

"Is that an issue, Rhianne?"

I hadn't meant to growl so low, but the gasp that she failed to hide indicated that it was a virtue, not a vice. Or maybe it was both. Definitely both.

"I'm not sure. Do it again and we'll find out."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Chloe and Jimin were the first to rise, joining Annie and I by the kitchen counter. We'd been cooking up a storm; eggs, bacon, pancakes and english muffins. She'd insisted on a big breakfast, citing it as the second most important meal of Christmas. 

I'd tried to argue against her, letting her know that no other meal mattered except for the roast dinner, but she doubled-down, zany and adorable. Naturally, I was rendered unable to protest, heedlessly following her lead.

"Ugh look at you, Mr & Mrs Claus," Jimin groaned, huffing up the heavenly scent of our cooking. His eyes were still half shut as he sank onto one of the bar stools, Chloe leaping up next to him. Both still in their pyjamas, they looked far more festive than Annie and I. 

She'd stolen a button down flannel shirt of mine, and given her penchant for oversized style choices, anyone would have been forgiven for thinking that it was hers. I'd headed down the stairs before her, still groggy from my slumber, wearing just my boxers. Walking through the living area, I had chuckled quietly to myself, scooping up her shirt which had been cast over my railings accidentally the night before. Tossing it over my head, the shirt which had drowned her small body fit mine perfectly. 

Maybe Jimin and Chloe had begun to merge into the same person, but I'd have been a liar if I said it didn't feel like we were doing the same. 

"Miss Claus and her elf helper," Annie corrected Jimin. My back was turned, looking for the butter in the fridge and I couldn't help but smirk and wonder how long we'd keep the pretense of being 'just friends' up. 

Although, now I'd considered it, I felt panicked. For all extensive purposes, we were just friends. Just Jungkook and Annie; as we always had been. Except now, I knew how her lips vibrated when she giggled midway through a kiss, and the echoes of her dulcet whines when my hands grappled with the bare flesh of her waist.

When I turned to look at her, ignoring the mindless chatter between herself and our friends, all I could see was red.

There was a little crimson graze on her calf from where a bramble had snagged on her tights yesterday, during our escapade to find the sunset. They had laddered, and, finally, I understood what people meant about calling them stairways to heaven. 

Her nails were glossy red, slightly chipped in places, and I knew they'd left equally scarlet marks down my back. Knuckles rosy and clearly a little cold, I wanted to hold her hands and heat her up.

Naturally far more pink than they were red, her lips were strawberries, and I couldn't get enough of the way she tasted. Taffy-pink tongue wetting them slightly as she engaged in conversation, I knew that my blushed cheeks would be just as red as my sight was.

And then I saw her neck. And the hickies. And the way Chloe was glancing from Annie to me with a shit eating grin.

"You filthy fuckers," she revelled in her assessment of the situation. 

Confused, Annie's head tilted towards me. What's she on about?

"It's not what it looks like," I mumbled, tossing the butter down on the counter, trying not to let my lips twitch upwards - and failing. 

"It's written all over your face," Chloe laughed. "And Annie's neck."

"My neck?" Annie paused, cogs turning in her head. "Oh, you motherfucker," she launched the tea towel she was holding at me.

"I'm sorry! I didn't realise!" I pleaded, though the smiles on both of our faces proved that neither of cared all that much. In fact, I didn't care at all. Still, this was Annie we were talking about - I had to defend myself, somehow. "Years of being a mono and not realising that hickies aren't all that discreet. My bad. I forgot." 

"I've got to see my parents," Annie groaned, trying to look at herself in the reflection of our metal kettle. Her hands worked her way down her throat, stretching at the skin to assess the damage. "God I'm gonna kill you."

Languidly traipsing into the kitchen, Hoseok rubbed his eyes and yawned. "That's not very Christmassy."

a/n: bonus points if you know where that last quote is from (it's not bts related lol, it's from a show that makes me laugh)