Love between two hearts

Chapter 5: Lost Between Desire and Sleep

Morning came quietly.

Yevin woke up to the soft sound of her mother calling from downstairs. Her mother’s voice was calm, steady as always, while her father’s deeper tone followed shortly after, reminding her not to be late for school.

“Coming!” Yeun replied, quickly getting out of bed.

Everything felt normal again.

Too normal.

---

At the dining table, her parents were already seated. Her mother placed a plate in front of her, giving her a small look.

“Don’t skip your food,” she said.

Yeun nodded. “I won’t.”

Her father glanced at her briefly. “Focus in school today.”

“I will,” she answered, though her tone was lighter.

---

School went on as usual.

Classes. Teachers. Noise.

Her classmates filled the room with laughter and complaints. Her best friend kept talking non-stop, bringing up random stories, occasionally teasing Yeun for being quiet.

“You’re thinking again,” her friend said.

“I’m not,” Yeun replied quickly.

But she knew she wasn’t completely telling the truth.

---

Elsewhere, the day was far from quiet.

At the company, So-jung and Min-jae were busy.

Meetings followed one after another. Documents were reviewed. Decisions were made.

Min-jae remained calm and focused, handling everything with ease.

So-jung, though still relaxed on the surface, was more involved than usual.

“You’re actually working today,” Min-jae said at one point.

“Don’t get used to it,” So-jung replied.

---

By evening, both of them were tired.

Dinner was quiet but comfortable.

No unnecessary conversation.

Just a rare moment of rest.

---

Later that night, So-jung lay on his bed.

For once, his mind wasn’t restless.

The day had been long enough to silence everything.

---

Within minutes—

He fell asleep.

In his dream, the kitchen glowed with a soft, festive warmth, like the heart of a wedding celebration. White lace curtains fluttered at the window, catching the golden light of imagined candles lining the counters. Yevin stood there in a simple white dress that hugged her curves just right, her dark hair loose and tousled, a faint smile playing on her lips as she turned from the sink, drying her hands on a towel. She was trying to get to know him, her eyes curious and inviting, asking quiet questions about his day, his thoughts, drawing him closer with her gentle laugh.

He stepped toward her, heart pounding in that dreamlike haze, the air thick with the scent of fresh flowers and baked goods. Their gazes locked, and she tilted her head slightly, waiting. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, thumbs brushing her soft cheeks. Her skin was warm, real under his touch, a little flushed from the imagined heat of the room.

Leaning in, their lips met softly at first—tentative, exploring. Hers parted just enough, tasting faintly of sweet wine and vanilla. He pressed closer, the kiss deepening as her hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. Their mouths moved together in a slow rhythm, lips sliding, pressing, sucking gently. He felt the plush give of her lower lip between his, the wet warmth of her tongue brushing his briefly before pulling back, teasing.

She sighed into his mouth, a soft sound that vibrated against him, her body leaning in, breasts brushing his chest through the fabric. The kiss grew firmer, more insistent—his tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she opened fully, letting him in. They tangled, slick and hot, swirling lazily, breaths mingling in short gasps. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him nearer, while his hand slipped to the nape of her neck, holding her steady.

It was messy in the best way—lips smacking lightly on pulls back, a thin string of saliva breaking when they paused for air, eyes half-lidded and heavy. She nipped his upper lip playfully, then dove back in, sucking his bottom one between hers. The world narrowed to that point of contact: the slide of tongue on tongue, the faint scrape of teeth, the shared heat building between them.

Then, as dreams do, it lingered there—kissing only, endless and perfect—before fading softly.

Jung's eyes snapped open, the dream dissolving like mist in sunlight. His bedroom was dim, early morning light filtering through the blinds, casting stripes across his rumpled sheets. He lay there, chest heaving, heart still racing from the intensity of it all. What the f**k? That kiss with Yevin—her lips so real, so soft and demanding, the kitchen alive with that weird wedding vibe. He hadn't even touched her beyond mouths grinding together, tongues f*****g in slow, sloppy drags, but his body had reacted like it was the real deal.

He shifted, and that's when he felt it: the warm, sticky mess soaking through his boxers, clinging to his skin. His c**k twitched, half-hard still, spent and slick with c*m that had leaked out during the dream. He groaned, reaching down to palm himself through the damp fabric. Thick ropes of it smeared his thigh, the sheets beneath him patchy and wet where he'd arched in his sleep. A wet dream? Him? At his age? About Yevin, of all people—the girl he'd been chatting up, trying to figure out if she was into him.

'How the hell did I dream that?' he muttered to himself, sitting up. His hand slipped inside his waistband, fingers sliding through the cooling jizz coating his shaft. He gripped his d**k, giving it a slow squeeze, milking out the last drops that beaded at the tip. The memory hit him again: her sucking on his lip, tongue swirling hot and wet, her t**s pressing firm against him. f**k, it felt so vivid, like he'd busted right there in the dream kitchen, pumping c*m down her throat or into her mouth as they made out.

He peeled off the boxers, kicking them aside, his c**k flopping heavy against his leg, glistening. The scent of s*x hung in the air—musky, salty. Jung's mind raced: Was it because of their last talk? Her laugh, the way her eyes lingered? He stroked himself lazily, chasing the aftershocks, thumb rubbing over the sensitive head slick with his own load. Another spurt oozed out, dripping down his knuckles. Yeah, definitely a wet dream. And damn if it didn't leave him wanting the real thing—grabbing Yevin, pinning her against that imaginary counter, lips crashing as he ground his hard-on into her.