Miu's POV

My bedroom was a war zone of indecision—suitcases splayed open, clothes draped over every surface like a fabric avalanche. Sundresses tangled with sweaters, bikinis spilling onto jeans, a wool coat eyeing a pair of flip-flops suspiciously. 

I stood in the middle, hands on hips, staring at the chaos. This was our first real trip, no rushed business jaunts, no half-hearted weekends shadowed by the Group. Just Lena and me, escaping into whatever paradise she'd dreamed up. 

The excitement was electric, but so was the frustration: where were we going? Hot beach? Chilly mountains? I had no clue, and my wardrobe was staging a full rebellion.

"Lena!" I called toward the living room, holding up a floppy sunhat in one hand and a cashmere scarf in the other. "Clue? Hot or cold? Beach or ski lodge? Something?"

She appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with that infuriatingly coy smile, arms crossed over her chest. 

Still in her towel from breakfast, hair drying in effortless waves, she looked like temptation personified. "Just pack everything in your wardrobe, princess."

I groaned, tossing the hat onto the bed. "Everything? I'll need a cargo plane! Come on, one hint. Is there sand? Snow? Wine?"

Lena sauntered closer, plucking the scarf from my fingers and draping it around my neck with a teasing kiss to my collarbone. "Mystery's half the fun. Trust me, I've got you covered." 

Her hands lingered on my shoulders, eyes twinkling. "Pack light on the inhibitions, though. Heavy on the lingerie."

Heat flushed my cheeks, but I swatted her away playfully. "You're impossible. Fine, wardrobe apocalypse it is."

As she laughed and retreated, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. 

Lingling's name flashed. 

Perfect timing. I hit accept, propping it against a pile of swimsuits while shoving random items into the suitcase.

"Hey, Ling," I said, trying to sound breezy.

"Don't Hey, Ling me, Miu," her voice came through sharp and immediately suspicious. "You've been radio silent for thirty-six hours. No text, no updates. Something happened. Something big happened."

"I... I've just been busy," I stammered, my brain already beginning to short-circuit. "Cleaning the penthouse. Organizing files. You know me."

"I do know you," Ling countered, and I could practically hear her narrowing her eyes through the phone. "And I know that tone. You're not organizing files. You're... oh my god."

"What?"

"Miu, look at the screen," she commanded. I shifted the phone to a video call, and as soon as she saw my face, she let out a triumphant, knowing hoot. "I knew it! That is not file organization skin. That is a total, 100% post-sex glow! Schuett finally got to you, didn't she? The wall is down!"

My entire face turned a shade of red that probably matched the strawberries from breakfast. I dropped the silk top, covering my face with my free hand. "Ling! Shut up! Oh my god!"

"Bwahahaha! I'm a genius!" she cackled. "So? Is the Director back in the building? Or are you currently in her building?"

"I'll tell you everything when I get back, okay?" I whispered, glancing toward the bathroom door where I could still hear the hum of Lena's hairdryer. "I promise. Full report. Every detail."

"Get back?" Ling's voice softened, the teasing edge giving way to genuine curiosity. "Get back from where?"

"I don't honestly know," I admitted, a giddy smile finally breaking through my embarrassment. "Lena wants us to go on a trip together. A surprise. She said we need it after everything."

The line went quiet for a second, and then Ling let out a soft, genuine sigh. I could see her on the screen, her expression turning into that supportive, sisterly look she'd worn for the last year while she watched me fall apart and put myself back together.

"I'm glad, Miu," she said softly. "Truly. I've seen everything you two have been through—the distance, the mess, the way you both looked like ghosts without each other. You just enjoy your time together, okay? Don't worry about the Group, don't worry about the office. Just be Miu and Lena for a while."

A lump formed in my throat. "Thanks, Ling."

"Keep safe," she added with a wink. "And tell Lena if she breaks your heart again, I'm personally going to sabotage her life."

I laughed, feeling a final weight lift off my shoulders. "I'll tell her. Love you."

"Love you too. Now go pack something sexy!"

I hung up, leaning back against the bed and staring at my suitcase.

Trust me, she'd said.

"Okay," I told the underwear drawer like it was a jury. "I'm trusting." I yanked the wool coat out, stuffed in linen, a light sweater, sandals, two bikinis, the scandalous set Lena had definitely meant when she'd said lingerie, and my floppy hat. 

I added my passport, sunglasses, and the tiny travel candle that makes strange rooms smell like ours.

"Ready?" Lena leaned on the doorframe, ridiculous in how casual she looked for a person planning my nervous system into fireworks—soft tee, loose shorts, that architect's smirk. "Car's downstairs."

Downstairs was not a car. 

Downstairs was a sleek black SUV with a driver who said our names like we were a reservation and time was on our side for once. 

Bangkok blurred by in a parade of neon and noodles, and then we reached a private terminal I didn't even know existed.

"Lena," I hissed as the SUV door opened to... a jet. Not huge. Beautiful. Polite in its luxury. "Lena, that is a plane with opinions."

"Tiny ones," she said, hand warm at my back. "Efficient ones."

I stopped at the foot of the stairs. "We are not—this is not—"

She tilted her head, amused, a little shy under it. "I wanted to take you somewhere without layovers or announcements reminding you of gates and departures. Just... a straight line."

A straight line. My heart did something embarrassing. "You got a whole plane to draw me a line?"

"I got us time," she said simply.

I climbed.

Inside was soft leather and sunlight and the kind of hush that made you want to whisper secrets. A flight attendant with perfect eyeliner took our bags and offered juice. 

"Buckle," Lena said, and the word was so domestic I could've married her for it.

We lifted. Bangkok turned to puzzle pieces, then clouds, then nothing but blue and the warm press of Lena's thigh through denim. Somewhere over an ocean, she produced a little box of pastries from a linen tote—mango tartlets from the bakery that only sells four things and sells out at ten.

"You're dangerous," I told her mouth, which was dusted with powdered sugar and unfairness.

"Only to your self-control," she said, and put a piece to my lips.

Hours became soft compartments: dozing on her shoulder, waking to her fingers carding through my hair, the soft clink of ice, the low murmur of a safety briefing I didn't have to hear. She didn't open her laptop once. It sat in the overhead like a tamed animal.

The attendant reappeared with warm towels and a smile a little too dazzled to be strictly professional. She set the tray down, then lingered, eyes flicking to Lena's mouth like she could still see the sugar there.

"Anything else I can get you, Ms. Schuett?" she asked, voice a notch lower than before. "We've stocked a few vintages you might enjoy. I could do a tasting... personally."

Personally.

Lena, oblivious menace, gave her polite boardroom smile. "That's kind, but we're fine."

The attendant's gaze dipped to Lena's bare forearm where my fingers rested, then climbed back, cheeks pink. 

"If you change your mind, the call button is just—" She leaned past me, unnecessarily close, and pressed it like she was christening a ship. "—there."

When she left, the cabin breathed again. I didn't.

Lena turned to me, amused. "What's that face?"

"What face?" I said, even though my jaw was trying to lock the way a door does when a storm rolls in.

"The one that says you're about to sue an airline."

"I might as well be. She flirted with you," I said flatly. "In my airspace. On our plane. Does the private jet not scream taken? Do I need to put a sign on your forehead?"

Lena's mouth twitched. "What would the sign say?"

"Occupied," I snapped. "By me."

Her eyes went dark in that way that made heat lick up my spine. "Miu."

"No, really, what did she think? That you just... chartered a jet for kicks? That I'm your assistant arranging your pastry intake? She had the nerve to lean over me to press a button like she was baptizing you into her wine club."

"So you did notice the call button location," she murmured, entirely unhelpful.

I glared. "Don't. I'm annoyed."

"You're jealous," she corrected softly, delighted, the worst. "My favorite weather pattern."

I crossed my arms and looked out the window at a cloud that had personally offended me. "I'm possessive," I muttered. 

There was a beat of quiet, the engines a steady hum, the cabin warm with sunlight and my temper. Then Lena shifted closer until her thigh pressed mine again, her voice low and coaxing. 

"Look at me."

I did, because I'm weak for her.

"I'm here," she said, each word careful. "With you. For you. There isn't a world where I taste wine without you, there isn't a cloud on this flight I'd rather stare at than your sulky mouth, and there isn't a call button she can press that answers to anyone but you."

Some of the storm in my chest broke apart. I hated that it did. I loved that it did. 

"You're not allowed to make poetry out of my jealousy."

"I make architecture out of it," she said, leaning in, lips brushing the corner of my mouth. 

I exhaled, the fight in me flashing into something darker. Possession doesn't leave; it changes shape.

"Good," I said, standing in one smooth move that made the leather sigh. I reached for her hand, not asking. "Come with me."

"Miu," she said, surprised and already obeying, letting me tug her down the short corridor to the small bedroom at the rear of the cabin. The door clicked shut behind us, muffling the world into a private heartbeat.

The room was a soft rectangle of cotton and light, the bed made with impossible precision. 

I pushed Lena gently until the backs of her knees met the mattress and she sat, looking up at me with that mix of surrender and spark that had ruined me for anyone else.

"I don't like people thinking they can have what's mine." I said, stepping close enough that my knees brushed her thighs. 

Her breath hitched. "I'm yours."

I slid my fingers into her hair, tilting her face to mine, not kissing yet, just feeling the tremor that ran through her. "She looked at you like you were available," I whispered. "Let me fix that."

"Please," she said, voice gone rough.

I kissed her then, slow at first, a warning and a promise—then deeper, claiming the sugar she'd missed with my tongue. She made a small sound I felt in my ribs. My hands found her shoulders, then her tee's hem. I peeled it up, baring warm skin and muscle that flexed under my palms.

"Mine," I said against her throat, letting my teeth mark the delicate place where pulse meets jaw. She shivered, hands gripping my hips, not guiding, just anchoring, like she understood: this was mine to set.

I pushed her back onto the immaculate duvet, climbed astride her, hair falling around us like a curtain. The jet hummed, steady and complicit. 

I kissed a path down, slow, intentional, leaving small, deliberate proofs at her collarbone, the slope of her shoulder, the curve where her ribs met softness. 

Every press of my mouth said you belong, here, with me.

"God, Miu," she breathed, eyes blown, hands sliding under my shirt to pull me down until our chests met. "You're—"

"Dangerous?" I offered, smiling without humor. I caught her bottom lip between my teeth, gentle punishment. "Good. Remember it when anyone else forgets."

"I will," she said, the vow immediate and wrecked.

I rolled us, tugged her above me, then flipped us again just because I could, because the control made something fierce and satisfied uncoil in my belly. She let me, laughing once into my mouth, then going pliant, trusting.

"Hands," I said, catching her wrists and pinning them gently above her head against the pillow. "Keep them there."

She obeyed, eyes locked to mine, chest rising. "Yes, Vice President."

I arched a brow at the title, heat spiking. "Behave."

"Never," she whispered, but her fingers curled into the pillowcase like a good girl.

I took my time. I kissed, tasted, scraped her with the faintest edge of teeth where I wanted her to think about me later—at the hollow of her throat, just under her ear, along the inside of her arm. 

I left marks that would hide beneath silk and show only to mirrors and me. When she strained, I soothed. When she pleaded, I slowed. When her voice broke on my name, I answered with a hand at her jaw, bringing her eyes back to mine.

"Who do you belong to?" I asked, not coy, not playing.

"You. I'm only yours. Entirely, irrevocably yours," she said, immediate, certain, like gravity.

The answer was the only thing that could sate the hunger clawing at my insides. I released her wrists, but only so I could slide my hands down her body, mapping the territory I had claimed.

I didn't just want her; I wanted to consume her, to erase the memory of that attendant's gaze with the sheer weight of my own desire. 

My hands found the waistband of her loose shorts, and I tugged them down in one fluid motion, kicking them away until they were nothing more than a discarded heap of fabric on the expensive carpet.

Lena gasped, her legs parting instinctively, welcoming me. The sight of her—pale, flushed, and completely open for me—sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core. 

I didn't wait. 

I shifted, sliding my body between her thighs, the friction of my denim against her bare skin creating a spark that felt like it could ignite the entire cabin.

I leaned down, my lips grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. I felt her shudder, her hips tilting upward, seeking me. 

I teased her, my tongue tracing a slow, wet line upward, lingering just an inch away from where she was already damp and aching.

"Baby... please," she whimpered, her voice a wrecked melody.

"Please what, Lena?" I murmured against her skin, my breath hot. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"I want you... I want to feel you. Everything."

I looked up at her, her eyes clouded with a desperate, heavy lust, her chest heaving. I reached for the button of my own pants, stripping them away quickly, needing the skin-to-skin contact. I pressed myself back against her, our hips meeting with a soft, wet sound that made us both gasp.

I reached down, my fingers finding her, already slick and swollen. I entered her with one slow, deliberate finger, watching her face as she took me in. 

Her head fell back into the pillow, a long, shuddering moan escaping her lips that sounded like a prayer. 

I paused for a moment, letting her adjust, feeling the way her walls clamped around me, tight and welcoming.

"You're so responsive," I whispered, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears, thick with need.

"Because it's you," she gasped, her hands coming up to grip my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin. "Always only you."

I added a second finger, sliding them in deep and curling them upward, finding the exact spot that made her breath hitch. I began to move, a slow, grinding rhythm, my thumb circling her clitoris with a relentless, precise pressure. 

I wanted her to feel the possessiveness in every touch. I leaned forward, capturing her mouth in a kiss that tasted of desperation and devotion, our tongues dancing in a frantic mirror of our bodies.

The pace accelerated. The steady hum of the jet became the backdrop to the rhythmic sound of our breathing and the wet, sliding friction of my fingers within her. 

I watched her, the way her eyes fluttered shut, the way her lips parted to let out broken, staccato cries of my name.

I shifted my angle, driving deeper, my movements becoming faster and more urgent. She let out a strangled scream, her fingers clutching at my back, pulling me closer as if she couldn't get enough of the sensation.

"Look at me," I commanded, my voice raw.

She opened her eyes, her gaze swimming with pleasure, completely lost in me.

"I've got you," I whispered, the words a vow. "I've got you, and you're not going anywhere."

The tension built, a coil winding tighter and tighter until it was unbearable. I could feel the tremors starting in her thighs, the way her internal muscles began to pulse around my fingers in rhythmic waves. She was close, so close I could feel the heat radiating off her.

"Miu! I'm—I'm—"

"Do it," I urged, my own body humming with a mirrored tension, my hips pressing hard against her as I accelerated my pace. "Give it all to me, Lena."

She shattered. A loud, piercing cry broke from her throat as her body convulsed, the waves of her orgasm crashing over her and pulling me down with her. The sensation of her pulsing around me, combined with the friction of our bodies, snapped my own control. I groaned, burying my face in the crook of her neck, my own release washing over me in a blinding, electric surge.

For a long time, the only sound in the room was the frantic thumping of two hearts trying to find a synchronized beat. I stayed collapsed on top of her, our skin slick with sweat, our breaths mingling in the quiet air.

Lena's arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight, her touch now tender and grounding. She kissed my temple, her lips soft and lingering.

"Mine," I answered, soft but immovable. "All day. In every room. At every altitude."

Color rose in her cheeks. "I like you like this," she admitted, a little laugh slipping out, wrecked and happy. "Possessive. Precise. Do you feel better, my jealous storm?"

I hummed, smug and sated. "Check the mirror in three places and tell me."

We tidied just enough to pretend we were civilized, then slipped back into our seats, hands finding each other without thought. 

The flight attendant reappeared, cheeks still sweetly pink, and paused—eyes catching on the glow we hadn't bothered to hide, on the new, delicate geometry at Lena's throat.

"More water?" she asked me, gaze finally, properly, settling where it belonged.

"Yes," I said pleasantly, lacing my fingers with Lena's on the armrest. "We're perfectly taken care of."

***

A/N:

Hello, my loves! How has everyone been?

I AM SO SORRY FOR BEING AWAY FOR QUITE A WHILE.

For everyone asking, I am good, I am well. Thank you so much for checking in. I have read all of your comments and even the ones posted on my messenger board. 

I just took a well-deserved break from writing. If I'm being honest, my drive and passion from when I first started writing LenaMiu fanfics has not been the same since. 

It has nothing to do with the girls. I LOVE THEM AND HAVE BEEN SUPPORTING THEM. But don't worry, I'm back now and I have no plans to leave you guys again. 

You're stuck with our Director and Vice President 😝

I do hope that some of you will still continue to read this crazy world we created here with Lena and Miu. I hope to see you guys until the end.