May 12, 2013 in Ajitofu, one-shots by Wasabi Warrior

Taeyeon swore to herself never to let Tiffany sleep without resolving any problems they may have had over the day. Although Hyoyeon had told her to relax, that problems were better off solved in time to let either of them cool off, Taeyeon feared the idea of tucking in and turning her back to Tiffany–just so she wouldn’t have to see her disappointed face before closing her eyes.

But the day when Taeyeon couldn’t get herself to confront Tiffany eventually came. It was like a storm that appeared from nowhere and swept her off her feet before leaving her in a mess. She had no idea what wrong she had done that day–just that she did. Tiffany was silent, and that made things a lot scarier.

The white, silk curtains were fluttering along with the wind when Tiffany entered the room. Without so much a word or a glance at Taeyeon, she eased into her night gown and nestled under the blankets with her back turned towards Taeyeon. Tiffany’s legs rustled the sheets from time to time, but nothing more.

For what seemed like endless hours in Taeyeon’s head, she stared blankly at the ceiling. She tried her best not to stir, not to do anything that would disturb Tiffany. Taeyeon listened as the silence around her became haunting echoes of her worries, whispering into her ears, telling her to do something–anything. The subtle movements of the trees outside and the whistling of the wind bothered her. Finally, she got up and headed for the bathroom.

To calm her mind, Taeyeon took to the showers. She slipped out of her night gown, freeing the straps and letting it fall gently on the floor. She entered the cubicle, which had barely enough room for her to extend her arms, and set the heater to 40 degrees celsius.

With eyes closed, Taeyeon waited for the water to trickle down along her face. It came and she sighed. She ran her fingers along her golden brown hair, leading the water to it. Drops of shampoo here, dabs of soap there. Taeyeon slid her palms against her smooth, milky skin, whisking away at the ends. She wiped along her thighs, her hips and her torso, gliding her hand along with the soap. Then, she rinsed the rest of her body with the pristine water drizzling from above.

Oddly enough, her fingertips, her lips, and much of everything else didn’t feel as warm as she hoped they would be. It was a different kind of warmth she felt, a different one from what she needed. Taeyeon balled her hands in and out, as if to grip something that wasn’t there. She cupped her face. It felt thick–either that or her fingers were stiff.

The bathroom door opened.

Taeyeon stopped, hesitating for a second, anxious to make things worse. “Fany? Is that–”

Tiffany slid the shower door open.

“What’re you–”

Tiffany stood across her, baring all she had. Her face seemed both cold and wanting at the same time. The locks of her hair rested gently on her chest.

Surprised, Taeyeon flinched, but she unconsciously tipped backwards until her back hit the wall.

Tiffany rushed forward, pinning Taeyeon against the wall. With a fierce glare in her eyes, Tiffany locked lips with her, swirling her tongue around and guiding Taeyeon’s. Tiffany cupped Taeyeon’s face, brushing her hair aside and grazing Taeyeon’s skin with her fingers.

A jolt surged through Taeyeon’s nerves, causing her arms to twitch and her eyes to flick open. But when warmth settled in, Taeyeon succumbed to the feeling and surrendered to Tiffany’s aggression.

Tiffany pulled back, panting. “It was you I saw with a man at the train station this morning.” She snuggled closer to Taeyeon, putting her leg between Taeyeon’s and whispering into Taeyeon’s ear, “Wasn’t it?”

Puzzled, Taeyeon paused to think.

She opened her mouth to answer, but the gap was immediately closed by Tiffany’s. Tiffany caressed Taeyeon’s cheeks and nipped Taeyeon’s upper lip with her teeth, slowly drawing out. Tiffany breathed heavily before Taeyeon. “Sssh.”

Taeyeon nodded, giving in to the burning sensation welling up within her. She traced the outline of Tiffany’s jaw with her nose and made her way down to her neck. Feeling her way around Tiffany’s collarbone using the tip of her tongue, she pressed and marked it with her lips. She held Tiffany’s leg up with one hand and tucked it against her hips, pulling her closer and grasping the Tiffany’s back with the other. She squeezed and pulled and tugged with her arms and her lips and her head. She held nothing back until Tiffany’s body had turned red–with passion.

Moaning in response, Tiffany leaned her head back and sunk her nails into Taeyeon’s skin. Taeyeon groaned, but she kept at it, rousing her even more. The water from the nozzle pelted them from above, drenching her hair, but Tiffany merely shook her head before lowering it down to Taeyeon’s breasts. She made her way down as thoroughly as she had ever done, marking spots and tracing lines, sending Taeyeon shuddering and huffing.

They glazed each other in warm water, cleansing what they could with their bodies. Stroking in-between, fondling deep, and rubbing their bodies together in a unified, smooth frenzy, Taeyeon and Tiffany cupped each other’s face and breathed.

Warmth found nowhere else.

Steam from the water diffused around them, clouding the whole cubicle in white streams. A hand pressed against the glass, and another followed beside it. The rattling of the shaking door was followed by intense, short breaths.

Fog built up on the mirrors and on the glass, slithering around them and coating everything in haze. But it soon parted as two hands pressed against the glass, one over the other, fingers intertwined, imprinting upon it interlaced passion. Fervor with fervor imbued, a kiss mark was added.

Tiffany planted one last lingering kiss on Taeyeon’s forehead before turning the water off and wrapping herself in a towel.

Taeyeon watched Tiffany’s back as the latter returned to their bedroom, her steps calm and graceful as they were protective and strong.

She never got to answer Tiffany’s question. She never got to ask hers.

Was she the one Tiffany saw that day?

It didn’t matter.

Taeyeon stared at the glass, at the imprint of Tiffany’s hand, and then at the kiss mark beside it. She ran her fingers through it, writIn a few hours, it would eventually dissipate.

It didn’t matter.

For if she found herself slipping away, then Tiffany would just come and seize her back. With a kiss and a mark past the walls of the shower and beyond her feelings.

Taeyeon was hers.

And hers only.