A/N: For those interested in reading more about the art, search for Royal Academy: Klimt, Schiele and the meaning of art. (Link also in the comments for this chapter)

The gallery was not very far from the subway station, we walked in silence, holding hands, just enjoying the still warm, sunny autumn day. A frisson was charging between us.

My mind returned to his touch on my thigh, neck, his whispers and breath at my ear and I was struggling with my raging desires.

Whether Namjoon realised all the tumult inside me or not, I couldn't tell. But he seemed completely unfazed by the whole thing and I started to think perhaps I was the only one who was affected by what had just happened...

Once inside the impressive, modern building, Namjoon handed our tickets to the person at the front desk who guided us towards the exhibition.

In the relative darkness of the room, the paintings hung on the darkly coloured walls, clearly highlighted by the bright spotlights. Outside the spotlights, the room was dimly lit. The area in front of each painting was fenced off with a wire, protecting the precious artworks.

"They organised the exhibition in themes, rather than chronologically -which makes a lot of sense in my mind." His voice was dulled by my blood screaming in my ears.

"This floor is for landscapes, the first floor is for portraits and the second -well, you might like the second floor." He smiled conspiratorially, winking. There was obviously something really exciting on the second floor...

I smiled without actually feeling it. All I could feel was my body winding and winding and winding up until I felt like I was just going to pop. I breathed deeply, trying to clear my mind.

The exhibition helped control my urges by giving me something else to think about.

I had never heard of Egon Schiele, the expressionist painter from the turn of the last century. His works were impressive. Namjoon was more impressive. I tried not to stare but...

Schiele's landscape paintings were colourful, some deceptively simple, but I preferred his portraits. There was a strange darkness about them, the people staring directly at you with bleak, emotionless eyes, some of their bodies contorted in weird positions. He was like Klimt's dirty cousin, his paintings tinted with darkness and erotic undertones with more angles and hardness, and minus the gold.

Every time Namjoon stopped to look at a painting, I would walk and stop right next to him or behind him or in front of him, making sure that something was touching him, whether it was my thigh, ass or breast. I would gaze at the paintings in all seriousness, pretending I wasn't doing it all on purpose. It was my turn to tease.

We went through the first two floors quite quickly, I could tell Namjoon was most interested in whatever was in the second floor.

On our way to the stairs, suddenly -and surprisingly aggressively for him, Namjoon yanked me to a dimly lit side corridor. Yanking my wrist, he pulled me further along and twisting my arm behind my back, he shoved me against a wall, my face and breasts squishing against the cool wall.

"Ohhh...." My body reacted instantly, as if on fire. Oh yes, I LOVED this Namjoon -he was So Hot! The glow inside me turned into a flame.