you two are alone in a room. you knew what that meant because Jean, being a lover of kissing you in plain sight so that everyone would know who you belonged to, suddenly wanted to take you to a secluded place.

the music on the ground floor is just terrible, it doesn't suit the way his hands on your hips guide you so that your back is pressed against the wall.

"we have musical accompaniment," he jokes, slipping his fingers into the belt loops on your trousers as he pulls you closer.

"yes, I hear it."

"I think this song is your type."

you roll your eyes. "you're my type."

"oh really? I'm flattered." his voice is too close to your ear when he grazes it with his teeth while he's talking.

Jean just kisses your cheeks, nose, forehead, lips. anything, but damn it, not even your neck, as long as you tilt your head back in every possible way, giving him open access.

out of impatience, you guide his head to your neck, but he just puts his chin on your shoulder with a grin, hugging your waist.

he liked to stretch out such moments, but you were already aroused here and now, while the sensation of throbbing between your legs was an obvious signal for you.

"we're in no hurry," he mutters, making the situation worse.

"I know." you answer quickly. "it's just... tch, it doesn't matter."

"are you sure it doesn't matter to you?”

"I'm not sure. come on, Jean..." your fingers pull at his hair, pressing his face against your neck, but in response, he leaves only a small peck there, instead of leaving an open-mouthed kiss.

your sigh sounds too loud.

"do you want something?" he asks innocently.

"I want to."

"mm, I'm not good at guessing people's desires."

“you're a sneaky liar” frustrated, you find his wrist in the dark, guiding his hand under the waistband of your trousers.

Jean can only grin at your brazen act, pressing two fingers against your panties, exerting the right pressure.

"is that what you wanted?"

instead of answering, you held your breath, parting your lips in a silent sound after his fingers began to rub small circles where you throbbed.

"why didn't I guess right away." he teases, "I'm sorry, honey."

you knew that your patience would soon run out, because even now you have to guide his hand for more pressure.