Horangi was very fond of teasing. Not a day went by without his jokes, both dirty and not. Sometimes it seemed to you that the Korean had no conscience or shame, since he couldn't shut up at the right moment.

Now you were standing in the middle of the base's corridor talking to your friend, in no hurry to disperse to your rooms. Somehow, smoothly, by itself, the topic of conversation flowed from discussing the personal lives of other soldiers and the day ahead to sensitive places on your body.

It was your lower abdomen. Just touching that area made your blood boil and a herd of goosebumps ran down your back. It was a little embarrassing to reveal this little secret, but you did answer the question after wrinkling your nose a little.

The next second, you were struck with heat. A warm, scarred hand touched the skin, slipping beneath the layers of clothing.

«This place?»

Horangi, who was on his way to his room and overheard your conversation, couldn't pass by. He pressed himself against you from behind, leaning in slightly, peering into your face. Kim watched your reaction intently as his hand slid lower. His eyes flashed mockingly from behind his dark glasses. Even through the mask hiding his face, you could feel him smirking.