The door slid open with a soft hiss.

You stepped inside, shoulders heavy from the day. Mission planning. Intel briefings. Endless coordination. You barely noticed how quiet the apartment was—until you looked up.

And saw her.

Hungryeon.

Naked.

Sitting on the bed, legs open, body glowing in the warm light. Her skin was flushed. Her eyes were glassy with need, lip trembling just slightly as she looked at you like you were air—like she hadn’t breathed since you left.

“I tried waiting,” she whispered. “I really did.”

You dropped your gear, heart pounding.

She reached a hand out, the other resting over her chest as she exhaled softly.

“But I need you.” Her voice cracked—not from lust alone, but from the sheer weight of longing. Hours without your touch. Minutes that dragged. The kind of ache only you could fix.