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17 August 2012 @ 08:32 am
[Short Fic] Take another drag, turn me to ashes. 1/3  
Y/N: Because... Faith.That drama made me a new oh-so-shiny OTP.I just love Eun Soo and Choi Young,okayokay?I never got to the PMY-LMH fic before,so I ended up writing this.I get distracted easily.I shouldn't have started on Faith just yet.
PS. But I was sick of reading about the complaints with the age difference between KHS and LMH (Hello,21st century.).So maybe that's partly what the motivation is.

Title:Take another drag, turn me to ashes.
Lyrics from "Diet Mountain Dew" by Lana Del Rey
Pairings:Kim Hee Sun/Lee Min Ho, Park Min Young/Lee Min Ho


Park Min Young opened the oak-paneled door and slipped inside. The door closed with a soft thud behind her as she stood there, documents in hand clutched to her chest. She didn't bother with the lights; the high glass panes sparkling with the city life down below provided enough for her to be able to see and move around.

 

And somehow it felt better to cloak herself with the darkness. Like she was afraid the room could breathe life to the secrets in her heart. Because even though he wasn't here, the room held so much of his essence; that hard, male, intense and awe-inspiring presence in every piece, in every corner, that it was useless to try to escape it.

 

It feels like the room is watching her. Much like how he was always watching her.

 

A delicious shiver ran down her spine. Much like how she always reacted to his burning gazes.

 

It was wrong.

 

She shouldn't be feeling this way.

 

She shouldn't want it.

 

She shouldn't want him.

 

It was wrong.

 

And yet, she couldn't stop herself from wondering...

 

Her feet started to move and she found herself in front of the bar, fingertips gliding across the top.

 

Remembering how he would always fix himself a drink before their meetings; his hands moving expertly.

How would they feel when they were on her, moving across her skin.

 

She stopped behind his chair at the head of the large conference table. Fingertips trying to find the ghost of him.

 

Deep in thought, skeptical, sardonic, stoic as he listened to reports and proposals. But always, always somehow still making her feel she was his only thought.

Was he thinking of stripping her naked and draping her across the table so he could gaze at her to his fill.

 

 

The lush feel of the back of the designer couch made her think about the time he sat on it, firing rapid orders and she had been trying to take everything down. He'd suddenly stopped. She'd looked up and her heart was in her throat.

 

His eyes were on her lips.  The lips she'd been worrying. The hungry look never wavering and then it was gone and he was back to giving orders.

Was he thinking of crashing his lips to hers, biting them and then shoving his tongue inside her mouth.

 

The cool polished wood of his desk made her more aware of her own heat. She moved behind it, somehow trying to imagine it was his skin she was caressing.

 

She'd once stood in front, waiting for the papers he was signing. After he was done, he'd handed it to her; his heavy-lidded gaze locking with hers for a full minute. And then he let her go.

Was he thinking of hauling her to him and fucking her right there on his desk.

 

And she'll let him.

 

Her stomach twisted at the thoughts as soon as her eyes fell on the photograph of his wife.

 

Who would have thought he was that kind of man to display such a sentiment?

 

But she should know, right? Should know the passion simmering just beneath the cynical facade. It was in every gaze that happened. In every caress that didn't.

 

In every kiss that might happen.

 

She had glimpsed the passion, but his heart...

 

It only burns for her.

 

And what heart wouldn't?

 

Wearing a men's shirt hardly covering her shapely legs, feet up on her chair, with mussed up hair falling alluringly over her face, hiding all but one twinkling eye and a smile promising the world and all the secrets that come with it. Every delicious and dizzying bit.

 

Who wouldn't want to be hers?

 

She then felt dirty. Rotten. Insane. What the hell is she doing? Or better yet, what the hell is he doing? He has this- this goddess with him so what was he trying to do with her?   Her eyes fell on the photograph once more.

 

She wondered when the photograph was taken. The beguiling aura of the woman in it was somehow nowhere to be seen in person. Oh, she was gorgeous. She is everything girls like her dream of becoming one day. The height of class. Effortless. It's like she owns the world and maybe she does.

 

But she is "The Ice Queen", as media likes to paint her. Able to cut with just a glance, a glare or the coolness she emanates. Men do seem have a problem when it comes to a woman in charge. Because clearly, a woman like her doesn't fit into just one mold.

 

Impossible.

 

Yes, that cold and ruthless streak in her is undeniable but she has more heart than she likes to let on. And it comes out in her unguarded moments. And in her moments with him.

 

He was the only one that sees the real her. That owns a piece of the glowing woman that is hidden in all her layers. As evident from the way he'd captured her.

 

But does he know about her darkness too?

 

The talks going around were enough to make her head spin. But she wasn't one to believe in baseless rumors, although... From what has been happening of late, maybe he knows better than anyone.

 

And his wife isn't the only one indulging in that darkness.

 

What does that say about him?

 

And what does it say about her when she wants it even more?

 

She ran a hand through her hair, frustration tearing at her. Her eyes wandering around as if lost. They landed on the door leading to the private lounge with a walk-in closet. She stood motionless, warring with herself.

 

Dirty. Rotten. Insane.

 

It was wrong.

 

But dirty, rotten, insane, and wrong things are the most tempting.

 

The illicit thrill of going through his clothes, the expensive clothes that clung to every delectable inch of him, was making her mouth water. And before she knew it, her feet had made the decision for her.

 

He was acting like a voyeur. She was just paying in kind by acting like a stalker.

 

It's just for a second anyway.

 

She stepped inside the lounge just in time before the office door opened. Gasping, she quickly hid behind the door; being too late in closing it.

 

She carefully peeked out.

 

And wished she had managed to close it.


Part II

 
 
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