Nana was covered in paint.
Her art professor had insisted they paint outside in the college garden for "natural inspiration," and she'd gotten completely absorbed in capturing the sunset. Now pink paint dotted her cheeks like blush, and small flowers had somehow tangled themselves in her silky hair.
"Nana! Is that your husband?!" Mina's shriek made her look up.
There, leaning against a sleek black car, was Xavier. He wore a black shirt that hugged his frame perfectly, the top buttons undone, his ash-blonde hair catching the golden hour light. His blue eyes found hers across the courtyard, and a small smile curved his lips.
Nana short-circuited. Her brain completely stopped working.
"Oh my god, he's SO hot!" Jisu fanned herself dramatically. "How did you land him?!"
"I—I don't know!" Nana frantically tried to wipe paint off her face. "Do I look okay? Is my hair messy? Oh no, there are flowers stuck in it—"
"You look adorable," Mina assured her. "Like a fairy who fell into a paint bucket. Very on-brand for you."
"Go! Go before he thinks you're not coming!" Jisu pushed her forward.
Nana skipped toward him, her small frame practically bouncing with excitement. She threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly.
"Husband! You came!"
"Of course I came." His arms came around her, steady and warm. "I rearranged my entire schedule for you."
He pulled back and offered her a bouquet of daisies—her favorites.
"Wah! Husband, thank you!" She buried her face in the flowers, breathing in their fresh scent.
"You have paint on your face," he observed, his thumb gently wiping a pink smudge from her cheek.
"We were painting outside! It was so fun! I made a landscape with the sunset and—" She chattered happily as he opened the car door for her.
Behind them, Mina and Jisu waved enthusiastically, giving her double thumbs up.
.
.
.
.
.
⭐⭐⭐
The restaurant was fancy—the kind with soft lighting, quiet music, and prices that made Nana's eyes widen. But Xavier had insisted, saying his wife deserved the best.
Throughout dinner, he kept glancing at her. The paint on her cheeks. The flowers in her hair. The way she got so excited about the pasta that she did a little happy dance in her seat.
So cute. His wife was unbearably cute.
He reached across the table and took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
Nana blinked. "Husband? You kissed my hand in public?"
"Is that not allowed?" His lips quirked in amusement.
"No! I mean yes! I mean—" Her face flushed. "I'm just a lucky hamster who won the universe!"
He chuckled, and the sound made her heart flutter.
What Xavier had forgotten—tragically—was that the fancy restaurant had paired their meal with wine. And Nana, sweet innocent Nana who'd been raised in a sheltered mansion and homeschooled her entire life, had no idea what wine was.
She'd drunk three glasses, thinking it was fancy grape juice.
By the time they got back to the car, Xavier realized his mistake.
"Husband~" She giggled, stumbling slightly. "The ground is moving!"
"The ground isn't moving. You're drunk." He helped her into the passenger seat, but before he could close the door, she'd unbuckled and climbed into his lap—while he was trying to drive.
"Nana—" He groaned as her weight settled on him, her body pressed against his in a way that made focusing on the road nearly impossible.
"You're so handsome tonight, husband~" Her hands wandered, touching his chest, his shoulders, sliding down—
"Starlight, please." His voice was strained. "Let me drive. You need to sit in your seat."
"But I like your lap better!" She hiccupped and nuzzled into his chest. "You smell good. Like... like clouds and safety."
He gritted his teeth, adjusting her position so she wasn't directly on top of his rapidly hardening cock. "Just stay still. Please. We're almost home."
She hiccupped again but listened, staying curled in his lap for the rest of the drive. Every breath she took, every small movement, was torture.
If she kept this up, he was going to claim her in the car.
When they finally got home, Xavier carried his drunk wife inside. She'd already started sliding her dress off in the car, mumbling about being hot.
"Starlight, you need to drink water—"
"Don't wanna~" She wriggled in his arms. "I wanna cuddle husband~"
He set her on the couch and went to get water, feeling guilty. He should have been paying attention to what she was drinking. She was still so young, so innocent—of course she didn't know the difference between wine and juice.
When he returned with the water, she'd stripped down to just her underwear, sprawled across the couch like a lazy cat.
"Here." He knelt beside her, helping her drink. "You need to rehydrate."
His hand touched her cheek—just a light touch—and she whimpered.
He froze. That sound...
"Nana?"
"Husband..." Her eyes were half-lidded, pupils dilated. "Touch me more..."
"You're drunk. We're not doing anything tonight." He stood, trying to maintain distance. "Let's get you to bed—"
She pushed him. Hard. He fell back onto the couch, surprised—she was surprisingly strong when determined—and before he could react, she'd dropped to her knees between his legs.
"Starlight, no—"
But she was already mouthing at his hardness through his jeans, her teeth playfully biting the fabric.
"Fuck—Nana—" His protest died when she unzipped his pants and freed him, her small hand wrapping around his length.
"So big..." she murmured, almost to herself. "Doesn't fit in my mouth..."
"Then don't—" But she'd already taken him in, her warm mouth enveloping him, and all his words dissolved into a groan.
His hands tangled in her hair—still with flowers in it—guiding her gently. "That's it... take me deeper... yes, just like that..."
She whimpered around him, the vibration sending pleasure shooting up his spine. She was enthusiastic but clumsy, drunk and determined to please him.
"So good, starlight... you're doing so good... eating me up just like I taught you..." His dirty words spilled out freely, his filter completely gone. "Take it deeper. Let me feel the back of your throat."
She tried, tears leaking from her eyes as she took him as deep as she could. The sight—his innocent wife on her knees, drunk and desperate, flowers falling from her hair—nearly undid him.
"Eunghh—" She pulled off, gasping. "Husband, please... I need you inside..."
"You're drunk—"
"I don't care! Please!" She was already pulling off her underwear. "I need you. Now."
Xavier's last thread of restraint snapped.
"Come here." He pulled her up, positioning her on the couch. She was soaked—absolutely dripping—and the knowledge that she wanted him this badly made possessive satisfaction burn through him.
But he wasn't going to make it easy for her.
"Touch yourself," he commanded, sitting back. "Let me watch."
"Husband—"
"No arguments. If you want me inside you, you're going to pleasure yourself first. Let me see how desperate you are."
Her face flushed, but she obeyed. Her small hand slid between her thighs, fingers circling her clit, then dipping inside.
Xavier watched like it was the greatest show on earth. His wife, flushed and needy, touching herself while calling his name. Her other hand played with her breast, pinching her nipple.
"Xavier—husband—" She was crying out, her movements becoming frantic. "I'm going to—"
"Come for me. Let me see it."
She shattered with a scream, her body convulsing, her fingers still working herself through the aftershocks.
"Beautiful," he murmured, finally moving between her legs. "But I'm not going to show any mercy. You tempted me, starlight. In the car, at dinner, just now. You're going to take everything I give you."
"I don't need mercy." Her eyes met his, bold despite the alcohol. "Just fuck me."
That language from her innocent mouth destroyed him.
He kissed her hard, teeth and tongue, marking her neck and shoulders as his hands explored her body. Then, without warning, he thrust inside—deep and hard and claiming.
She screamed his name.
He didn't give her time to adjust. A week without her because of work, a week of watching her giggle at K-drama actors on TV, a week of restraint—it all poured out now.
"This is what you do to me," he growled, pounding into her. "Walking around in short dresses, bringing me lunch with that smile, climbing apple trees. You drive me insane."
"I'm—ah!—sorry—"
"Don't be sorry. Just take it."
He was relentless—rough in a way he rarely allowed himself to be with her. But she'd asked for it. Begged for it. And drunk Nana was apparently much bolder than sober Nana.
"Harder—" she gasped. "Please—more—"
"Greedy little hamster." But he gave her what she wanted, his pace increasing until the couch was creaking beneath them.
When she came, clenching around him, he pulled out and lifted her into his lap.
"Ride me," he commanded. "I want to watch you."
She sank down onto him with a whimper, her small body taking him completely. She looked so pretty like this—flushed and sweating, her hair a mess, paint still on her cheeks, taking him so well.
"That's it," he encouraged. "Use me. Take what you need."
She moved desperately, chasing pleasure, and he helped guide her hips. When he felt her getting close again, he thrust up hard, hitting that spot that made her see stars.
They came together—her collapsing against his chest, him filling her completely.
But he wasn't done.
Round after round, they explored each other. The living room became a disaster—clothes everywhere, furniture displaced, evidence of their passion scattered around.
Finally, exhausted and thoroughly satisfied, Xavier carried his wife to bed. She was already half-asleep, mumbling incoherently.
He cleaned them both gently, then pulled her against his chest, stroking her hair.
"Even innocent creatures can be bold when they drink," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll have to remember that."
She nuzzled closer, and he felt her smile against his skin.
"Love you, husband~"
"Love you too, starlight."
As she drifted off completely, Xavier made a mental note: no more wine for Nana unless he was prepared for the consequences.
Though honestly? He wouldn't mind a repeat performance.
His bold, drunk, mischievous little wife had been incredibly entertaining.
And he planned to remind her of everything she'd done when she woke up tomorrow—probably with a hangover and absolutely no memory of her behavior.
That conversation would be fun.
.
.
.
.
.
⭐⭐⭐
THE END.