They had never had sex on a bed before.
As Jung-moon and Woong-cheol kissed frantically on top of the cool sheets of one of the two hotel beds, Jung-moon was faintly amused by how subversive it felt. They had given one another handjobs in the confessionals-turned-interrogation-rooms, blowjobs in basically every pew of the church, and once fucked so energetically against the podium in the front that they’d broken it.
(Woong-cheol had broken it, Jung-moon might have clarified if anybody had pressed him hard on the issue. He had been happily sinking into the post-orgasmic haze that he was addicted to almost as much as solving these cases with his team.)
But beds were for normal people, good and decent people who had good and decent jobs and came home to make good and decent love to their spouses. Beds weren’t for people like them. They were, as Gu-tak pointed out twenty times a day, mad dogs.
“What is this, what’s wrong with this?” Woong-cheol muttered in irritation, yanking on the stuck zipper of Jung-moon’s hoodie even as he kissed hungrily along the underside of his jaw. Jung-moon knew he needed to intervene before Woong-cheol lost his patience and just tore it apart but it was still hard to take his hands from where they were busily clutching onto Woong-cheol’s ass.
“Wait,” Jung-moon said, pushing Woong-cheol’s hand away so that he could carefully unzip his jacket. He’d barely opened it before Woong-cheol reached for him again, warm hands diving in and then up under his shirt to caress his chest and stomach.
“Get this off, come on. It’s not even cold out. Why are you always wearing a jacket?” Woong-cheol reached down to his hips and roughly pulled them tighter against his own, forcing Jung-moon to spread his thighs around him in a way that was, frankly, impossible to describe even with all of his years of intense schooling. He crossed his legs around the backs of Woong-cheol’s calves and swallowed down the moan rumbling in his throat.
As he returned his hands down to squeeze into the thick muscles of Woong-cheol’s ass he thought that it would be difficult for him to take anything off when he was being pinned down so thoroughly like this, surrounded by heavy muscle and warm skin. He certainly didn’t mind though.
Still he was a cooperative member of this investigative team, a real team player as Tae-soo had said, so he did allow one arm to come back up in order to try to shrug the hoodie off. But Woong-cheol’s hands working up his spine rendered the whole thing impossible.
“You have to let go or I can’t take it off,” Jung-moon said finally and then closed his mouth around the top of Woong-cheol’s ear, biting down softly in rhythm with how their hips were moving together.
Woong-cheol cursed and moaned, tightening his grip for a long moment before horribly pulling back. Jung-moon followed him up and then they weren’t in a much better position for what they were trying to accomplish as Woong-cheol pulled him up onto his bended legs, kissing him again. Finally Woong-cheol let out an exasperated sound and held him away in order to yank the hoodie off and then his shirt in rapid, fabric-stretching succession. He tried to pull his own shirt off right after but Jung-moon was self-aware enough to admit that he made a pest of himself by reaching for the revealed skin, kneading into the tense muscles on his sides and back.
He pushed him over and Woong-cheol let out a surprised hiss of air as his head hit the mattress. Jung-moon straddled him and dug his hands up his chest, under the tight fabric of his shirt. No matter how big his shirts looked in their lockers, they always seemed too tight across Woong-cheol’s broad chest. It was, Jung-moon thought critically, far too distracting during their important work.
“Hey, hey,” Woong-cheol said in a low voice, pulling at his belt. “Get these off, I can’t even stand to look at you in them.”
He wrapped his hands around Jung-moon’s hips and squeezed them fiercely, closing his eyes against some apparently overwhelming thought. Woong-cheol had told him once, while they fucked quickly in what had turned out to be his cringing subordinate’s office, that he loved his hips.
To be completely accurate what he said was, “Your hips make me so fucking hard, yeesh, I can’t even handle it. You’re making me look at you on purpose, you bastard.” Which was unequivocally the same thing.
Jung-moon didn’t know how wearing the same jeans that everybody else wore was interpreted as an aggressive act of seduction but he was also a generous co-worker, determined to help his fellow convict. He wriggled out of his jeans in a way that he would say definitively was not seductive but Woong-cheol still cursed as he pulled his shirt off, watching his movements closely.
“Tease. You’re a tease and you know it. It’s a very bad habit.” Woong-cheol grabbed him when he finally kicked the fabric off of his left leg and Jung-moon got to feel the give of the mattress as he was bounced back down onto it.
(It wasn’t very supportive, which made sense since this was the cheapest hotel that taxpayer money could buy for the team while they investigated a faraway lead in their case. Jung-moon already knew he’d have back pain in the morning.)
“Jung-moon, look at how hard you are already,” Woong-cheol said and squeezed his cock like he might not know what he was talking about. Jung-moon’s spine curved sharply and he moaned, quietly to be sure but Woong-cheol grinned wide anyway.
“Goodness, what slutty sounds you’re making now,” Woong-cheol said proudly and hooked Jung-moon’s legs over his arms, pulling his hips and most of his back up off of the bed in one easy motion, forcing him to rest mostly on his shoulders. This put his cock close to Woong-cheol’s face and he was extremely motivated to discover what he was planning on doing next.
He turned his head and breathed out hard against the bedspread when Woong-cheol took him into his mouth, sucking him in a teasing way that quickly blazed through all of his higher brain functions. Woong-cheol bounced him on the bed disapprovingly and he turned his full attention back to him, digging his fingers into the sheets.
More sounds, unbidden, tore out of his throat as Woong-cheol sucked his cock. He felt so exposed like this, forced to rely entirely on someone else’s goodwill. The idea of this vulnerability would have been unendurable with anybody else but he could trust Woong-cheol. He loved that he could trust him, such a beautiful and profound relief.
“Come here,” Jung-moon said, holding out his hand, stretching it along his straining, aching body.
Woong-cheol moaned eagerly along his cock and he nearly came right then. He tapped the first few sequences of his favorite equation against his hip to calm down and then threw his arms around Woong-cheol’s shoulders when he descended onto him, kissing him again feverishly.
“Oh, you’re too much. It’s making me crazy. I’m the crazy one here.” Woong-cheol huffed out hard when Jung-moon slid his leg up and then between the backs of his, rubbing against the rough fabric of his camos.
Jung-moon could feel his covered erection, so hard and thick against him, and he tried unsuccessfully to stifle another moan as he thrust against him.
“Take your pants off,” he said, pulling on his belt. He wanted him. There wasn’t much left in his head but that thought, pounding as rapidly as his heart as he clung to him.
“Yeah, yeah, calm down a little,” Woong-cheol scolded but he was breathing hard, his fingers fumbling as he tried to unbuckle his belt. Jung-moon reached down to do it for him and Woong-cheol grabbed Jung-moon’s hoodie in order to search the pockets.
“You have it,” Jung-moon reminded him, abandoning his belt in order to snake around to his back pocket, pulling out a thin tube.
“I knew that, obviously I did. You’re just distracting me.” Woong-cheol kissed along his neck as he struggled with his camos before he finally snorted in irritation and lifted up, shoving out of the rest of his clothes quicker than Jung-moon had ever seen him do anything.
If doing this on a bed felt subversive, both of them being completely naked was practically taboo. They were experts by now of quick, nearly-clothed fucks during their brief moments of free time, always a little worried that somebody was going to interrupt them.
It made Jung-moon feel odd, almost tentative, a feeling that was heightened when Woong-cheol leaned back over him, his big hands sliding down to his thighs and squeezing. It made him wish strange things, things that would have been impossible even if they hadn’t met the way they had. He certainly never would have become involved with a gangster boss if he hadn’t been arrested and Woong-cheol was incredibly unlikely to have picked up a certified psychopath who spent every week in a bizarre fog, forgetting where he’d been and falling into confusing emotional spirals.
Tae-soo would say that the way they had all found one another was truly destiny but at some point Tae-soo had become very sentimental towards them and anyway Jung-moon didn’t actually believe in destiny. He and Woong-cheol had met under a series of improbable events, each one more unlikely than the other, but chaos was a perfectly normal function of the universe and in this particular scenario, he was infinitely grateful towards it.
“Oh, you’re thinking of something weird, I can see it. Stop it already and pay attention to me. It’s hurting my feelings.” Woong-cheol tapped his fingers against his forehead and then slid them down his face until they tapped against his lips. “Hey.”
It didn’t take a genius to know what he wanted. Jung-moon licked out against his fingers and Woong-cheol looked pleased, especially once he pushed his fingers past his lips and into his mouth.
“That looks good. You’re pretty cute sometimes, you know? Yeah, do it just like that.” Woong-cheol watched him suck on his fingers for a bit before he moved his other hand up his thigh and then between.
Jung-moon didn’t know how he’d missed Woong-cheol opening the thin tube in his hand and using it but the fingers he pressed against him were warm and slick and they slid into him with an easy pressure that made him made him whine softly around the fingers in his mouth.
“It’s okay, you’re doing good. If you were sucking my cock as good as this, I don’t think I’d be able to handle it. You’d really make me lose it.” Woong-cheol gently but steadily fucked his fingers into him, mouth and ass, and it made Jung-moon twist against the sheets, trying to find relief from the pressure building up in him.
Woong-cheol popped his fingers out of his mouth and then spread his palm heavy on his chest, holding him down. “Stop moving around so much. It makes it harder to fuck you the way you like. I’m being so nice here and you’re being troublesome.”
Jung-moon tried to settle the shaking muscles of his body but it was impossible. Suddenly an old car outside their room backfired and the noise made Jung-moon’s eyes widen in a sudden realization.
“I know where the gun cache is,” he said. His quiet words hung in the air.
Woong-cheol paused, fingers still inside him, heavy hand still holding him down, and pursed his lips at him in what looked like equal parts amusement and disappointment. “Oh?”
“It’s in the club. That’s what the code meant.” Jung-moon was ashamed that he hadn’t realized it sooner. It was incredibly obvious now.
“Sheesh, we should have stayed then. They’re all locked up now. But I guess that bastard Tae-soo can pick the lock. He was probably a real juvenile delinquent.” Woong-cheol looked primly disapproving at that last part, as though he hadn’t been working for a ganglord since his teens.
“We can’t take it now. Then they’ll move the other cargo and we’ll never find it. We’ll go back tomorrow when they’re distracted.” His work was incredibly important to him but Jung-moon couldn’t deny he felt very relieved that they didn’t have to go now.
“Well if you’re sure. Just tell me who I’m supposed to hit tomorrow, okay? Goodness, I’m glad I’m too stupid to figure this stuff out. I can just concentrate on the good things.” Woong-cheol twisted his fingers pointedly to remind him what those good things were and Jung-moon let the euphoria of his revelation fuel the heat building back up in him, faster than before, until it was unbearable.
“That’s enough,” Jung-moon said, sharply. He was tired of waiting.
Woong-cheol’s eyes narrowed at him and Jung-moon knew the man well enough to know he might prolong this pleasurable torment just to teach him a lesson about being too demanding. But he also knew his way around that by now. Proper stimulus led to an inevitable reaction.
“Please,” he murmured, low and sincere, meeting his eyes directly. “I want you inside me.”
Woong-cheol swore, yanking his fingers out of him in order to grab his cock. “Don’t say things like that all of a sudden, you bastard. Just stick to being cold.”
“But I need you.” He reached down his body, spreading warm, waiting flesh. “I feel so empty without you in me.”
“Oh, you bastard, you dirty cheater.” Woong-cheol breathed out hard and lowered his body on top of him in order to kiss him again, lingering and wet. “I’ll give you what you need. I’ll give you more than you can even handle.”
“Yes,” Jung-moon agreed, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, propping his thighs up around him. “That’s exactly what I need.”
Woong-cheol was clearly fired up but when he pushed into him, it was still slow and careful. Despite his care, it took Jung-moon’s breath away and he dug his fingers into Woong-cheol’s broad back. The first thrust stole a low cry out of him and the next few found several more. He clenched his teeth together and tried to concentrate on Woong-cheol’s eager moans and steady flow of words.
“You like that? I know you do, Jung-moon, listen to you. You’re practically crying you like my dick so much.” Woong-cheol thrust in once, hard, and the bed creaked under them in time with the startled whine that Jung-moon made. Woong-cheol chuckled, unsteady and fond, and began pounding into him in earnest.
Jung-moon reached down to wrap his hand around his leaking cock, knowing that he wouldn’t last long once he started stroking it but unable to hold himself back any longer. He lasted a good dozen strokes before one of Woong-cheol’s low, tender exclamations about what an eager slut he was hit him right at the perfect moment to send him tumbling over.
He opened his mouth but this time no moan came out, just a quiet gasp of breath as he clenched everywhere around Woong-cheol’s thick body. Woong-cheol paused a brief moment and then fucked him through the shudders of his orgasm until he felt overstimulated and raw. He wasn’t sure he could take much more but just when he felt like he’d had enough, Woong-cheol tightened one hand around his hip so hard that he knew it would leave a bruise and then came in him, thick and full. It caused something in Jung-moon to twist again and he moaned weakly, his spent cock twitching in his hand.
Woong-cheol collapsed onto him with the care of a rampaging gorilla and Jung-moon huffed in protest, pushing at his shoulders until Woong-cheol grumbled something inaudible and then rolled over onto his side. Jung-moon felt limp and liquid as Woong-cheol pulled him closer but he was aware enough to put an arm up around him. Normally he wasn’t that physically affectionate but in the lovely, numbing haze after an orgasm, he wanted to touch and be touched as much as possible.
In his head he sleepily named the chemicals responsible for his elevated mood and lethargy, his desire for physical closeness and comfort. It was all very scientifically sound but understanding the things his brain was doing and why wasn’t as interesting at the moment as feeling it. He pressed closer to Woong-cheol, who made a low scoffing noise again, his thick arm roping firmly around him.
“I can tell you’re thinking of something weird again,” Woong-cheol sighed in disappointment, his eyes half-closing. “I’ll have to fuck you better next time so you won’t be able to think so noisily after.”
“That sounds nice,” Jung-moon agreed and then let his own eyes fall closed, sinking slowly into the cheapest mattress that taxpayer money could buy.
“I think we broke this damn mattress, it’s so uncomfortable.” That was the last thing that Jung-moon heard before he fell asleep and it made him smile, small but genuine and definitely for a reason that he could understand.
This was progress.