Chronolust Temptation [18+] High S*xual Content
Ch.3b Seoul with Minami (I)

“Seoul,” he said simply, the word dropping into the space between them like a pebble into still water. He propped himself up on one elbow, his smile widening slightly as he watched her reaction. “We’ll fly there after graduation. Explore the city, eat some good food.”

Minami’s eyes widened, a flash of surprise cutting through her usual guarded demeanor. “Korea, Seoul?” she echoed, her voice rising slightly in disbelief. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone steady, unwavering, as if it were the most natural suggestion in the world. He sat up fully now, the sheet pooling around his waist, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “Why not? It’s not too far, and it’ll be fun. Just you and me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with possibility. Minami’s mind raced, a chaotic swirl of doubt, excitement, and something she couldn’t quite name. Seoul. A city she’d only seen in photos, a place that felt both distant and tantalizingly close now that he’d planted the idea. It was reckless, impulsive, and yet… strangely appealing.

She exhaled sharply, her shoulders relaxing as she made up her mind. “Okay,” she said, her voice firmer this time, carrying a conviction that surprised even her. “Let’s do it.”

Hayao’s grin widened, a spark of triumph lighting his features. “Good,” he said, leaning back against the headboard, his posture radiating a quiet confidence. “We’ll make it a trip to remember.”

***

The days following graduation blurred into a whirlwind of preparation. Hayao, now unshackled from the monotony of high school, threw himself into the logistics with an enthusiasm that bordered on obsessive. His fingers danced across his phone screen, booking flights with a fervor that belied his usual laid-back demeanor. He sprawled across the couch in his apartment, legs dangling over the armrest, muttering to himself as he confirmed their itinerary—departure times, seat assignments, a hotel in central Seoul with a view he swore would blow her mind.

Minami approached the process with a mix of reluctance and reluctant excitement, her snarky commentary a constant thread weaving through their interactions. “You’re gonna forget something important, like the tickets,” she muttered one afternoon, tossing a pair of faded jeans into her suitcase with more force than necessary. She stood in her bedroom, surrounded by scattered clothes and half-packed bags, her hair pulled back in a messy bun that spoke of both frustration and focus.

Hayao glanced up from his phone, sprawled across her bed now, his grin unfazed. “Relax,” he said, stretching his arms above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. “I’ve got this under control.”

She rolled her eyes, shoving a hoodie into the suitcase. “Sure you do. I’ll believe it when we’re not stranded at the airport.”

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that filled the room, and tossed a balled-up sock at her. “You worry too much. It’s gonna be fine.”

And somehow, despite her doubts, it was. The tickets were booked, the bags were packed, and soon they were standing at the gate, boarding passes in hand, the hum of anticipation buzzing between them like static electricity.

With a secret smile on her face, Minami’s mother waved to them as they left the house, wishing them a good trip. The young girl could not quite bring herself to meet her mother’s eyes. 

***

The flight to Seoul was a late-night affair, the kind that cloaked the world in a hushed, dreamlike stillness. Most passengers were already asleep, cocooned under thin airline blankets, their faces slack with exhaustion. Hayao claimed the window seat, his frame relaxed as he gazed out at the endless stretch of darkness beyond the glass. Minami sat beside him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression a blend of boredom and wariness as she settled into the cramped space.

The steady drone of the engines filled the air, a rhythmic hum that lulled the cabin into a quiet stupor. Hayao shifted, reaching into the seat pocket to pull out a folded airline blanket. He shook it out with a flourish, spreading it over their laps in a single smooth motion. His hand slipped beneath the fabric almost immediately, finding her thigh through the thin layer of her leggings, his touch warm and deliberate.

Minami stiffened, her head snapping toward him, her eyes narrowing into a glare. “Hayao, seriously?” she hissed, her voice low but sharp. “We’re on a plane.”

“Exactly,” he whispered back, his breath hot against her ear as he leaned closer, his fingers tracing slow, teasing circles on her skin. “No one’s watching.”

Her breath hitched, a faint tremor running through her as his touch sent a jolt of heat up her spine. She didn’t push him away, though—her body betrayed her, her legs shifting slightly apart in a silent, grudging invitation. “You’re disgusting,” she muttered, her voice laced with irritation, but the flush creeping up her cheeks told a different story.

Hayao smirked, his hand sliding higher, brushing the edge of her underwear beneath the leggings. The blanket concealed his movements, a flimsy shield against the dim, watchful world around them. Minami gripped the armrests, her knuckles whitening as his fingers teased her through the fabric, the sensation maddeningly light yet insistent. Her heart pounded, a frantic rhythm that drowned out the engine’s hum, her eyes darting around the darkened cabin to ensure no one noticed.

“Stop it,” she hissed again, her gaze flicking to the aisle, but the words lacked conviction, dissolving into the air like smoke. Hayao leaned closer, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. 

“You don’t mean that,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvet taunt. 

His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her leggings, then her panties, finding her warm and wet, and Minami bit her lip hard to stifle a gasp as he circled her clit with practiced ease.

The plane jolted through a pocket of turbulence, the sudden lurch making her stomach drop, but Hayao didn’t falter. His touch was relentless, a steady pressure that built and built, pushing her closer to the edge. Minami’s body tensed, her breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts, her knuckles white as she teetered on the brink—until the clatter of a cart broke the spell. A flight attendant approached, her footsteps muffled by the carpet, the cart’s wheels rattling faintly as she maneuvered it down the aisle.

Hayao withdrew his hand with a smoothness that belied the moment’s intensity, folding the blanket back as if nothing had happened. Minami glared at him, her chest heaving, her face flushed with a mix of frustration and unspent arousal as he turned to the attendant with a disarming smile. 

“Can I get a soda?” he asked, his tone casual, his face a mask of innocence.

The attendant nodded, handing him a can, oblivious to the storm brewing beside him. Minami adjusted her leggings beneath the blanket, her movements jerky, her voice a low growl. “You’re the worst,” she grumbled, her cheeks still burning as she sank deeper into her seat.

He chuckled, popping the tab on the soda with a sharp hiss, the sound cutting through the tension. “We’ll finish later,” he promised, taking a sip, his eyes glinting with mischief as he watched her squirm.

***

They landed in Seoul just as dawn began to paint the sky in soft pinks and golds, the city stretching out beneath them like a glittering tapestry. Customs was a blur of paperwork, their bags retrieved with minimal fuss before they stepped into the crisp morning air. A taxi whisked them to a sleek hotel in the heart of the city, its lobby a vision of polished marble floors and modern art installations. Their room on the 20th floor was a haven of glass and steel, offering a panoramic view of Seoul’s neon-lit skyline, the lights twinkling like stars against the fading dawn.

Hayao dropped his bag near the door, stretching with a groan that pulled his shirt up slightly, revealing the lean lines of his torso. “Let’s explore,” he said, his voice bright with anticipation, already moving toward the window to take in the view.

Minami rolled her eyes, dragging her suitcase further into the room, but she followed him anyway, her snark intact. “Don’t get us lost, idiot,” she muttered, though the edge in her voice had softened, worn down by exhaustion and the faint thrill of being somewhere new.

Their first stop was Gyeongbokgung Palace, a sprawling relic of history nestled amid the modern sprawl. The ancient gates loomed tall and imposing, their dark wood weathered by centuries, the tiled roofs curving gracefully against the sky. They wandered through the courtyards, the air thick with the scent of old stone and faint traces of incense, the distant chatter of tourists blending with the rustle of leaves. Minami pulled out her phone, snapping photos of the ornate architecture, her usual sarcasm giving way to a quiet curiosity. 

“It’s… pretty cool,” she admitted, almost reluctantly, her voice softening as she framed a shot of the throne hall, its red pillars stark against the gray stone.

Hayao grinned, nudging her shoulder. “See? Told you this’d be worth it.”

The prickly girl snorted, but didn’t argue, her guard slipping further as they moved deeper into the palace grounds.

Next, they plunged into the chaos of Myeongdong, the bustling district, a sensory overload of sights and sounds. Street food stalls lined the narrow streets, their sizzling grills sending up plumes of fragrant smoke—spicy tteokbokki, golden fried chicken, the sweet aroma of hotteok wafting through the air. They shared a plate of tteokbokki, the red sauce staining their fingers as they ate with plastic forks, the heat of the spice making Minami’s nose wrinkle. Hayao nearly dropped his hotteok, the sweet pancake wobbling precariously in his hand, and Minami laughed—a genuine, unguarded sound that caught him off guard.

“Clumsy as ever,” she teased, her tone lighter than it had been in days, her guard slipping further as she licked honey from her fingers, the sticky sweetness clinging to her skin.

As they wove through the crowded streets, a street performance snagged their attention—a group of dancers moving with precision to a pulsing beat, their steps sharp and synchronized. Among them stood a young woman, her presence magnetic even from a distance. Her long legs flashed beneath tight shorts, her waist-length dark hair swaying with each movement, catching the light in silken waves. She wore a cropped jacket that revealed a sliver of midriff, her confidence radiating as she led the routine. When it ended, she approached them, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, her smile bright and disarming.

“Enjoy the show?” she asked in English, her voice warm and slightly accented, her dark eyes sparkling with energy. “I’m still in training. Well… idol training we call it. My name’s Iseul. What’s your name?”

Hayao nodded, visibly impressed. “Yeah, you’re amazing,” he said, his tone earnest, his gaze lingering on her lithe frame a beat too long. “I’m Hayao, and this is Minami.”

Minami nudged him, her brow arching. “What’d she say?”

“She asked if we liked it,” he translated, tearing his eyes away from Iseul to meet Minami’s gaze. “She’s training to be an idol.”

Iseul beamed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with a graceful flick of her wrist. “You look new to the city… I’d love to show you around Seoul if you’re free,” she offered, her enthusiasm infectious.

Hayao relayed the offer, and Minami shrugged, her arms crossing over her chest. “Sure, whatever,” she said, her tone noncommittal, though her eyes flicked to Iseul with a flicker of curiosity.

***

The trio spent the afternoon together, Iseul leading them through the city with the ease of someone born to it. She took them to a cozy café tucked away in a narrow alley, its walls lined with Polaroids and handwritten notes pinned up by past visitors. The air was rich with the scent of roasted coffee, the faint clink of cups, and the low hum of conversation creating a warm, intimate atmosphere. They ordered lattes, the foam leaving faint mustaches on their lips as they sipped, and Iseul launched into animated stories about her idol training—grueling dance practices that left her muscles aching, vocal lessons that tested her range, the relentless pressure to debut in a fiercely competitive industry.

Hayao translated for Minami, his voice low and steady as he leaned closer to her, though his mind wandered. Iseul’s long legs stretched under the table, her hair cascading over her shoulders in a dark, glossy wave, and he couldn’t help but imagine her in a more intimate setting—her body pressed against Minami’s, their skin slick with sweat, a tangle of limbs and breathless gasps. He shook off the fantasy, forcing himself to focus on her words.

“My last boyfriend was a jerk,” Iseul confessed over her coffee, her tone wistful as she stirred the dregs with a small spoon. “Always jealous, never supportive. I’m kinda jealous of you two—you seem so… together.”

Hayao passed it along, and Minami smirked, leaning back in her chair with a lazy stretch. “He’s a perv, but he’s not that bad,” she said, her voice dry but tinged with a reluctant fondness. Iseul laughed when Hayao translated, her eyes crinkling at the corners, a sound that lightened the air between them.

***

As dusk settled over the city, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink, Iseul’s eyes sparkled with a new idea. “Want to go drinking?” she asked, leaning forward with a grin. “I know a great spot.”

“We’re not twenty,” Hayao pointed out, glancing at Minami, who raised an eyebrow in silent question.

“No problem,” Iseul said, waving a hand dismissively, her confidence unshaken. “I’ve got a fake ID. Or we could grab a beer and hit the park—more fun, less hassle.”

Minami hesitated, her lips pursing as she weighed the risk, but Hayao’s curiosity tipped the scales. “Let’s do it,” he said, his tone decisive, already rising from his chair.

At a nearby convenience store, Iseul flashed her fake ID with the practiced ease of someone who’d done it a dozen times, securing a six-pack of Hite beer with a triumphant grin. They found a park, the cherry blossoms glowing faintly under string lights woven through the branches, their petals drifting lazily to the ground. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of water and blooms, a soothing counterpoint to the day’s heat. They cracked open the cans, the sharp hiss cutting through the quiet, and took their first sips—Iseul wincing almost immediately, a giggle bubbling up as the alcohol hit her tongue.

“This is strong,” she said, her cheeks flushing fast, her voice already softening with a tipsy edge.

Minami sipped cautiously, smirking at Hayao over the rim of her can. “She’s a lightweight,” she observed, her tone teasing, her own buzz beginning to hum faintly in her veins.

He grinned, his arm brushing hers as he took a deeper swig, the cold beer sliding down his throat. “Looks like it.”

The night deepened around them, the beer loosening their tongues and softening their edges. Iseul grew tipsy quickly, her laughter growing louder, her movements clumsier as she leaned against Minami, her head resting on her shoulder. “You’re so pretty,” she slurred in English, her long fingers brushing Minami’s arm in a clumsy, affectionate gesture.

Hayao translated, and Minami blushed, a rare crack in her usual composure as she muttered a quiet “thanks” under her breath. 

The beer buzzed through her, warm and heady, and she nudged Hayao playfully, her elbow digging into his side. “Still a perv,” she said, her voice light, almost fond.

“And you love it,” he shot back, his arm slipping around her waist, pulling her closer until their thighs pressed together on the bench.

Iseul slumped further, her body going limp against Minami as she mumbled, “This is nice,” her eyes fluttering shut, her breathing evening out into the soft rhythm of sleep. Hayao chuckled, finishing his can with a crunch of aluminum. “She’s done,” he said, his voice laced with amusement as he watched her doze.

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