Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jeongin leans against her bathroom counter, shaking her hair before running a towel through it half heartedly. It’s too late to run downstairs and use the hair dryer—she doesn’t need to wake everyone up with the noise nor does she want to explain to her parents why she’s showering at three in the morning.

It's not like she had planned on sneaking out and driving to the beach, but when Jisung had pulled up in that god-awful jeep of hers, the left passenger door perpetually jammed, it's not like she had resisted the idea of it either. It had taken little convincing on Jisung's end, just her batting those long eyelashes and blinking those doe eyes up at her and pouting with those heart shaped lips. 

The ends of her wavy black hair have soaked through her tank top, near the straps and down the back. She's tempted to change into something drier, but not particularly in the mood to go hunting for a bra or a pair of shorts now. Not to mention, Jisung's somewhere in her room, dripping wet from both the sudden summer rain and the sea.

Jeongin hangs her towel back up, flicking her bangs in the mirror before slipping out of the bathroom, and nearly tripping on the rug outside it at the sight before her.

Jisung rolls over, lavender bra strap slipping over her shoulder. Jeongin can’t help but stare, eyes narrowing on those pouty lips. “Unnie, can you wear some clothes?”

Jisung props herself up on her elbows with a smirk, licking her lips before she speaks. The strap falls further down her shoulder. “You’re the one who took yours off in the bathroom. What’s your unnie going to wear now, hmm?”

She took hers off to change. Jisung took hers off to be a menace⎯her threadbare mint sweater was soaked through before Jeongin even got in the jeep and her bra fares no better. Jeongin tries not think about what the means for her underwear, a matching lavender pair slung low on her hips. Her denim shorts lie in a crumpled heap by Jeongin's window, picking up any stray raindrops the wind blows in.

Jisung shivers, goosebumps pricking at golden skin.

Jeongin snorts, reaching into her closet. “You should’ve just asked instead of sitting on my bed in your underwear.”

“Don’t lie, Jeongin-ah,” she drawls, twirling that stupid strap around her fingers. Jeongin can see the beginnings of the tattoo running along her side where the band has come up, where the cup falls lower. And a little more, but she’s trying really hard to not think about that. “You like it.”

Jeongin scoffs, unable to refute that. She drops the t-shirt back into the closet, crawling back up the length of her bed and hovering over Jisung. Her pillowcases have soaked up the worst of Jisung’s wet hair, a wavy, uneven, bob Hyunjin and Minho take responsibility for cutting. Jeongin had mourned the loss of Jisung’s long wavy chestnut dyed hair when they first cut it, but up close, she doesn’t think she’s anything better.

Then again, that might just be Jisung.

“My house,” Jeongin murmurs, leaning lower and grinning when Jisung’s breath hitches, fingers fluttering at her side before settling against Jeongin’s back. Jeongin shivers at how cold they are. “No dirty underwear on the bed. My rules.”

Jisung’s smile speaks of nothing but trouble, cold hands slipping up Jeongin’s back before falling back against the bed, sliding lower to toy with her  waistband. Jeongin sucks in a breath, sharp. Jisung blinks innocently, grinning as her hands dance up her sides, up to the single strap hanging on her shoulder. She flicks it off, biting her lower lip as the lace fabric slides down almost immediately, just below the curve of her bust.

“Unnie…,” Jeongin murmurs breathlessly, heart racing in her throat.

“Hmm?” Jisung continues innocently, plucking at Jeongin’s hand until she lifts it up. Jeongin stumbles, nearly face planting into Jisung’s chest, if not for the hand by her shoulders. It’s a small victory, minimized further when Jisung trails her hand down to cup her breast, nails trailing over her nipple. “You’re the one who said no dirty underwear on the bed.”

Jeongin swallows back a protest about how they both showered after their late night drive to the beach, how the sea water had to be long gone by now, left only in the waves curling in Jisung’s now-dry hair. It’s hard not to when Jisung absentmindedly strokes her thumb back and forth, arching forward into Jeongin’s hand. 

Her other hand’s already snaking around to yank Jeongin forward, pressing them together from the waist down, pushing her bra out of the way and curling her hands back around Jeongin’s waist once more. She’s warmer now, burning where her fingers dance across the small of her back before she slips under her waistband, reaching lower and squeezing. What a terrible habit to pick up from one Lee Minho. One that Jeongin can’t even complain to Hyunjin about because Lee Minho’s girlfriend is just as shameless.

Jeongin swallows her next words from her lips before she can speak them into fruition, palms squeezing and rocking forward every time Jisung whines. She tastes like strawberries and the sea breeze, sticky and sweet as the summer rain takes over. Jisung parts her lips with a sigh, letting Jeongin lick into her mouth as her hands run back up Jeongin’s pack, pushing at her tank top.

“Your house,” Jisung reminds her, though she whines when Jeongin pulls away to tug the tank top over her head. She doesn’t know where it lands, only that Jisung’s bra follows shortly after she untangles it from around her waist. 

That stupid tiny waist that drives Jeongin crazy.

Jisung is a vision, golden skin painted blue through the third floor window and the blue hour summer rain crashing outside. Her eyes sparkle and her lips glimmer, flushed and chest heaving as she reaches out to Jeongin.

“My rules,” she agrees.