Jong-woo wakes early from his natural slumber for no apparent reason at all. His head is neatly tucked in the crook of Moon-jo’s neck, lips lightly touching the other man’s pale skin and Moon-jo’s chin is resting on the top of his head comfortably.
He’s engulfed by a tight embrace, strong hands settled and locked around his waist, but he still manages to extradite himself from Moon-jo with minor disturbance to the other. It’s not everyday that Jong-woo wakes up first, if he hasn’t woken up yet, then Jong-woo reasons that a lie-in was desperately needed.
As he places Moon-jo’s arms on his chest, he doesn’t hesitate before leaning down and leaving a lingering kiss on one of his knuckles. The hands that were so brutal to others were the most gentle thing in the world to him. His breath hitches slightly as Moon-jo makes some inarticulate sounds. Jong-woo can only pick out ‘Jagiya’ and ‘bed’.
Chuckling to himself quietly, he leaves the bedroom on light footing. He looks at the clock before he goes. 7:46am. On the early side for him, ridiculously late for the other. Maybe last night’s activities had finally tired the unstoppable man out. He lets himself smirk at the thought.
If anything, he should be the one who’s completely passed out right now. Frankly, he’s surprised he isn’t. Apart from the dull ache and pressure he can now feel once walking, his body feels physically fine. Although, he might have a little bit of a limp...
Jong-woo takes a detour to the main bathroom, nature making its call, but he stares for what feels like minutes when he catches a glimpse of himself in the large mirror. Black, blue and purple. They swirl across his skin like a Van Gough, painting a pretty picture of a man who, in no other words, has truly been ravished. (Moon-jo loves that word.)
Jong-woo was sampled like a delicacy last night as he let Moon-jo freely roam his body, biting and marking his flesh as he wished. Jong-woo had lay there and endured, trying his best not to cum in the most pathetic way possible. Moon-jo had relished his helpless gasps.
The trail of evidence of last night’s activities leads down below the waistband of his boxers. Studying his back, he finds even that wasn’t spared. But the more he stared, the more he found himself liking how he looked; completely disheveled at the hands of Moon-jo, baring his marks like a claim.
Jong-woo has to force his gaze away from his reflection before he gets too hard thinking about it, his boxers becoming tighter by the second. He washes his hands quickly and exits the bathroom with haste, desperately trying to think of something else.
Once in the kitchen, he distracts himself with food, studying the contents of the fridge all too intensely. With sudden realisation, he finds all of his favourite foods present (he doesn’t even want to KNOW how that worked), but he’s not complaining. Jong-woo settles on making omelettes, he’s starving.
Pouring the oil into the pan creates a satisfying sizzle, he cracks the eggs easily and delights in the lack of blood from them. No more rotten yolks from Ms. Eom, no thank you. An inviting aroma fills the kitchen and Jong-woo leans against the marble-white countertop, diligently attending to his breakfast. The air is so hot, even in the morning, that Jong-woo feels comfortable only in his boxers.
Leaning back slightly further to stretch incites a wince from the man. He makes a light ‘ah’ sound and rubs the bottom of his back tenderly.
Moon-jo had been merciless last night, after three rounds the man was not even satisfied. Jong-woo had barely stayed awake for the fourth, slipping in and out of sub-space; he’d never felt more exhilarated in his life. He wouldn’t have had it any other way.
His flow of coquettish thoughts about the night before are interrupted by his omelette appearing an appetising golden-brown. He swiftly displaces it onto his plate and brings it to the counter to eat. Jong-woo lets out a heavenly moan at the first delicious bite, the rest of it soon follows.
Jong-woo reaches the stove and moves to turn it back on, planning on making Moon-jo breakfast too. He briefly considers how to wake him up, there are many ways that flood his devilish mind. Most of them involve his own mouth tasting and sampling the other.
However, his movements are halted by a firm and naked chest pressing against his back. Jong-woo feels warm hands grab onto the tops of his own. He breathes more heavily and leans his head back onto Moon-jo’s shoulder as a kiss is placed on his sensitive neck. He can’t help humming in satisfaction.
“Are you cooking for me?” Moon-jo asks in his deep voice, somehow impossibly lower in the morning. The question shouldn’t be suggestive, it isn’t, but Jong-woo’s body would argue otherwise.
Jong-woo can feel the hard outline of Moon-jo’s cock against his ass, rubbing gently back and forth in a tantalising motion. His breathing becomes heavier.
Their bodies are touching from head to toe, stimulation all over. Moon-jo brings his and Jong-woo’s hands down to the sides of the counter. Jong-woo is now pressed face-first against it, trapped between the marble stone and Moon-jo’s electrifying body.
Moon-jo’s fingers thread between his own, Jong-woo feels them get pressed down on the sides of the worktop before Moon-jo removes his touch. A silent order to keep them there.
“Yes.” Jong-woo answers, perhaps a little belatedly. It’s all breath and moans.
Running the tip of his nose along the tendons of Jong-woo’s neck, Moon-jo inhales deeply. He can smell his own cologne on the other’s neck, the linen clean smell of his own sheets and the unmistakable heavy scent of sex from the night before. Moon-jo sighs as he brings a hand up to rest around the base of Jong-woo’s neck, holding him in place as he kisses the area he scented with a feather-like touch.
Jong-woo’s senses heighten at the hand cupping his neck with enjoyable pressure. He pushes back into Moon-jo, feeling his clothed cock slip in between his ass cheeks. Whatever he was going to say next is caught on a moan.
“Moon-jo,” He tries to whine, “Please.”
The other man only continues to move against him in a rhythmic motion. Moon-jo’s other hand finds purchase on Jong-woo’s abdomen, pulling the smaller man backwards into his rutting.
“What was that?” Moon-jo asks him whilst kissing his ear before licking it and eventually sucking it into his mouth. Jong-woo never knew that his ears were so sensitive before. He also hates how composed the other man sounds.
“Ah,” Jong-woo tries again, only to be cut off my a particularly forceful thrust against him; his head falls forward with the momentum and he’s held up only by Moon-jo’s arms against his front.
“Ah...ah, please,” He drawls again, trying to sound as helpless and needy as possible in the hopes it would work in his favour, “Jagiya-, uh, please.”
Maybe his plan works, because Moon-jo crawls his hand from his waist down to the top of his boxers and slowly creeps it beneath the waistband. Jong-woo moans at the welcome relief of some sort of touch to his aching cock, that is now attempting to stand tall at attention.
Moon-jo slowly pulls down his last defence of nakedness and gets Jong-woo to step out of them carefully. The boxers are then presumably flung across the room unceremoniously.
Jong-woo doesn’t even get the chance to realise that Moon-jo has done the same to himself before he feels the electrifying touch of skin on skin, flesh on flesh. Moon-jo’s hard cock slots between his cheeks and Jong-woo lets out a soft moan before attempting to turn around to gaze upon the other man. However, Moon-jo quickly catches the back of his head and pushes it roughly facing forward.
“I want to fuck you like this.”
The words almost make Jong-woo collapse in his arms. He moves against Moon-jo, trying to push backwards to get him to put it in already. Jong-woo’s cock is already weeping with dissatisfaction and he needs more.
“Yes, yes. Jagi-I, please.”
His ramblings are incoherent and become even more so as one of Moon-jo’s burning hands returns to his neck. The other pushes on his stomach to make him angle his ass up in the air and lean across the cool counter. (As if he has to be told twice.)
Moon-jo then slides this hand back around to his back. He kisses each vertebrae before he penetrates Jong-woo with a large finger.
Jong-woo tries to push against it, desperate for friction of some sort, the firm grasp on his neck tightens, however, and stops him. He can only stay still, waiting and taking what he’s given. What he’s allowed.
Moving his finger in and out easily, Moon-jo quickly moves up to two.
“You’re still loose from last night, jagiya,” He whispers into his ear, “Still open from my cock splitting you apart.”
Jong-woo can barely take it, he grips the sides of the counter so tightly that his knuckles are beginning to turn white. He’s desperate to follow Moon-jo’s orders, both excited and scared of the consequences at the same time.
Mercilessly, Moon-jo continues his motions into Jong-woo’s hole. His grip on his neck increases, teetering on the edge of too much and not enough, and Jong-woo lets out a series of breathy gasps as a response. A third finger is added.
Silently, Jong-woo wonders where the lube came from, he settles on the reasoning that Moon-jo had surely exited the bedroom with one goal in mind. To fuck him. Out loud, he groans in response, still feebly attempting to push back onto Moon-jo.
“I need more,” He manages in between the gasps from each forceful thrust of the other man’s fingers, “More, more, jagi, please.”
His whines are pitiful, they only increase in volume as Moon-jo removes his fingers and Jong-woo is left empty again. He throws himself backwards on a mission to be filled. Moon-jo’s low chuckle echoes around the cold surfaces of the kitchen.
“Oh, so greedy.” He says, Jong-woo can hear him slicking his cock before he chucks the small bottle to the side carelessly. He drags out the last word and lets it linger in his mouth.
To Jong-woo’s disappointment, the hand around his neck is removed to push down his back as Moon-jo guides himself inside. The pressure locks him in place, however, and his feelings are soon forgotten as Jong-woo feels the heated burn of Moon-jo pushing inside of him.
Jong-woo doesn’t tell him to stop or slow down and Moon-jo does not intend to. He pushes all the way in, slowly, letting Jong-woo take inch after inch. Jong-woo has quickly found that he loves this feeling; being stretched wide around the thick girth of Moon-jo’s cock. He can only pant silently as the other man bottoms out and he feels his ass press against his groin.
Jong-woo loves this. He loves that he’s the only one who can make Moon-jo feel this way. He loves the friction as Moon-jo begins to move, finally, setting a rapid pace from the beginning. Jong-woo holds on for dear life against the counter letting Moon-jo plough him from behind, taking what he’s given from the other man and relishing it in his moans.
From his position facing the kitchen wall, he can only feel and not see, somehow making the experience even more heightened through his other senses. Now inside and moving, Moon-jo allows his free hand to return to its place on Jong-woo’s neck, pressurising the soft skin.
“Uh... ah, yes, Moon-jo.” He slips out in response accidentally. He doesn’t care though. Moon-jo only seems to move faster, roughly pulling Jong-woo back onto his cock before moving out and slamming in again. The grip on his neck tightens.
“Oh, jagiya,” He starts, low and sultry, “You like this, don’t you?”
He flexes his hold on his neck as he says so, still continuously ramming into Jong-woo from behind.
“Well, aren’t you full of surprises.”
Moon-jo’s low whisper to his ear is almost enough to pull him to the edge, however, when the other suddenly grabs around his chest and pulls him upright against him and starts fucking up into him, he can no longer hold back.
“I can’t, I-I’m gonna-“ He tells Moon-jo through broken whispers. There’s tears welling in his eyes from the sheer sensation of Moon-jo’s cock slamming deeper and deeper into him than ever before. Moon-jo’s still at his ear, whispering dirty things to flood his overstimulated mind.
“Yes, jagiya, cum for me.” He says, still thrusting up into Jong-woo with his right hand restricting his breath on his neck. Jong-woo’s gasping for air as it’s knocked out of him with every thrust, only to have no ability to do so. He’s ridiculously overwhelmed and begging to finish.
All of a sudden, Moon-jo grazes his prostate and Jong-woo knows he couldn’t stop himself from cumming if he tried. Heat rushes across his body in a seismic wave as he cums all over his stomach and the kitchen counter. Jong-woo falls lax in Moon-jo’s grasp, this doesn’t stop him, however.
The other only pushes him back down against the counter top, holding down his head to the surface with a strong grasp. Jong-woo lies there in ecstasy letting Moon-jo frantically chase his own release.
He takes one, two, three more hard thrusts into Jong-woo’s tight and rapidly fluttering hole before he shoots his load deep into the younger man and his head falls against Jong-woo’s sweat-covered back.
For a moment, all that is heard is panting and breathing as they both return to reality. Moon-jo extracts himself carefully, pulling out his cock and watching his seed ooze out of Jong-woo’s red and puffy rim.
Once Jong-woo’s breathing has returned back to normal, he pushes questioningly against the hands holding him down and is let up. Moon-jo still holds him from behind, however.
“I was gonna make you breakfast.” Jong-woo says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Last night, they’d both promptly passed out after their sexual acts.
Moon-jo hums curiously, “Is that so?”
Jong-woo feels him move around behind him and emits a surprised gasp as his rough fingers sweep around his sensitive hole and then back around to his front to collect the cum splattered on his chest. Can he really go again after that?!
Luckily, Moon-jo simply spins Jong-woo around after he’s apparently satisfied cleaning him up. Jong-woo stares up at his thin, handsome face and shivers at the feel of Moon-jo’s palm on his waist. Moon-jo hums again.
“Jagiya,” He continues (apparently because he hasn’t already ruined Jong-woo enough) whilst slowly moving his fingers to his lips. Jong-woo suddenly notices they’re coated in a glistening white substance, “I’d much rather eat you.”
The man maintains intense eye-contact as he opens his mouth and licks at his fingers. Jong-woo can only watch, begging himself not to get hard again. He knows what Moon-jo’s going to do before he does it. Moon-jo retracts his tongue and moves his fingers towards Jong-woo.
He meets him in the middle as he stops Moon-jo’s hand with his own and obediently takes his index and middle finger into his mouth. He sucks and swirls his tongue around them, letting the mix of their cum run down his throat. He lets them out of his mouth with a sultry ‘pop’ and he catches Moon-jo watching him in absolute amazement.
“I never, in my life, have encountered such a being as you.”
Moon-jo’s words are a fine accompaniment to the magnitude of the moment and the feeling welling in his heart. Jong-woo smiles and the other man brings their lips together in a messy kiss, Moon-jo’s hand cups Jong-woo’s flushed cheek as he leans up to meet him.
“Jagiya, you taste of me.”
Jong-woo emits a loud whine of protest as Moon-jo lifts his mouth off of his cock. He tries to entice him back by bucking his hips, unfortunately, it doesn’t work. Moon-jo squeezes his hips as he gets up from the bed.
“Later. I have to go to work, baby.”
Oh. That’s a new one. He likes it. Jong-woo still lets himself pout to convey his discontent, Moon-jo leans down and kisses it away and runs a hand through his hair whilst he speaks.
“We are going out tonight, though.” Moon-jo says it in such a way that Jong-woo immediately knows what he means. He feels a rush of excitement, a different kind to moments before, but still akin to it.
“Really?” Jong-woo asks, his anticipation must show because Moon-jo grins toothily at him.
“You’ll find out.”
Moon-jo moves to get up, Jong-woo moves quickly to pull him down again into a kiss, this time slower and more grateful.
“Have a good day.” He tells him sincerely, he doesn’t really even know where he works, something to do with dentistry he still believes.
Moon-jo smiles at him and reminds him of his own job interview in a few days.
“I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry.”
And he certainly wouldn’t, Moon-jo had gone to a lot of trouble and pulled a lot of strings to get Jong-woo an interview with a local publishing company. Eventually, he may even be able to publish his own books.
Jong-woo’s heart had skipped a beat when Moon-jo had showed him his new passport to present to his employers. ‘Seo Jung-Wu’ it reads, apparently he was born in Seoul and his birthdate is now one year later than before. These little changes were enough to offset the police from their trail if they were ever sought after, but Jong-woo still can’t get over the idea of having Moon-jo’s last name. Of being his.
Before Moon-jo’s tall and slender form disappears around the door, he nonchalantly adds, “Oh, before you get dressed, check the closet.” Then he exits, leaving Jong-woo half hard, hot and bothered.
Jong-woo sighs and rolls languidly across the bed towards the wardrobe, curiosity growing at the man’s words. He decides to sort himself out in the shower later, mentally cursing the other.
Taking the sleek handles into his hands and flinging the doors open, Jong-woo is once again taken aback. This time, however, it’s not to do with the size of the closet, but rather what’s in it. On one side, Jong-woo can see Moon-jo’s familiar black, blue and grey suits with matching shirts, long-sleeve tops and slacks. On the other he sees a barrage of colours mixing together. These were new.
Stepping closer, Jong-woo even realises that some of the t-shirts on the rails are exact replicas of ones he had previously owned and worn at the Eden Residence. They are certainly not his actual clothes, however, as they are in too good a condition. (Jong-woo distinctly recalls ripping a hole in the bottom of the pale yellow top now in his hands when Moon-jo had startled him one night on the rooftop.) God, it feels like forever ago.
Amongst the familiar fabrics, there are new pieces, however. Jong-woo can’t help snickering to himself as he thinks of Moon-jo shopping for him, his laughing abruptly stops when he sees the brand labels. These were expensive. Like, expensive expensive. Jong-woo couldn’t have even dreamt of this from his dingy little box room at Eden.
He fingers each shirt and pair of trousers, feeling the rich and soft fabric on his skin. He’ll kiss Moon-jo when he comes back, not for the pricy clothes, but for giving him the option of his old ones.
After reaching the end of the rack, he moves onto the drawers below. Jong-woo observes then nearly folded underwear and socks and is feeling the fabric when his little finger touches something... lacy?
Jong-woo retracts his hand slightly before going back in and carelessly flinging some underwear to the side like he’s digging for buried treasure. Once he’s almost at the bottom, he can see what he touched. There’s two pairs of lacy underwear in his drawer.
The first is black and appear to be about his size. The lace is sheer in swirling patterns and Jong-woo can see the stark difference between his pale skin tone and the dark garment. The fabric is thin in width and would barely allow him any modesty at all.
The other pair is a light, baby pink. Jong-woo shakes his head because he can’t get Moon-jo calling him baby earlier out of his head after he thinks of it. This time, the lace forms a flowery pattern that would lightly dance across his fair skin.
Jong-woo checks the rest of the drawers, but they are the only two pairs. He stares down at his hands, not quite sure of his own reaction. Obviously Moon-jo had bought them, for him though? He doesn’t know, he finds himself hoping this to be true, though, as vigorous jealousy begins to bubble in his stomach.
He contemplates trying them on for far too long, staring at one and then the other and then back to the other one before he chucks them back in the drawer and pulls out a pair of new black boxers. Jong-woo shakes his head as if to clear it and the drawer shuts.
Hastily, Jong-woo grabs one of his ‘old’ t-shirts but selects a rather comfy-looking pair of jogging bottoms from the pricier side. What? He couldn’t let it go to waste.
Thinking about it, he can’t even work out when Moon-jo had the time to do all this. He definitely had the time to buy the clothes after work one day but Jong-woo has still never left the apartment since he arrived last week. Moon-jo must’ve done it himself, he concludes, when Jong-woo was asleep (or fucked out). The thought brings a blush to his cheeks.
Shutting the doors behind him, he decides to try and forget about when he found and stalks off to the living room to boot up his laptop and try and sort out his CV and portfolios for his job interview. It’ll be nice to do a job he actually likes for once. He hopes the people are nice too; if not, he knows Moon-jo will sort them out and apparently this time he’s invited too. He suppresses his thoughts as he tries to type.
Jong-woo mentally congratulates himself as he finishes up his CV, adding his hobbies to include writing, reading and keeping fit. He doesn’t think ‘killing people’ is really what they’re looking for in the perfect candidate, so he decides to leave it out.
He thinks about making lunch, looking over to the kitchen. The gleaming, white countertops, however, provide him with intrusive flashbacks of a couple of days before. He grins to himself, diverting his eyes. Jong-woo’s thinking about how he might make a salad when his eyes land back on the door to the bedroom and what’s lying in the bottom of his drawer crosses his mind again.
Jong-woo shuts his laptop but remains stuck between the kitchen and the bedroom. He’s tempted, he is. He wants to. But no. Salad first, at least.
In moments like this, Jong-woo is very glad for his rural upbringing, he doubts a true Seoul city-boy could carve and chop vegetables at the rate he can. He stares down at his product and grins proudly, taking it to eat in front of the TV. Flicking through the channels, Jong-woo manages to catch the end of a famous film he’d seen before but was happy to see again.
He finishes his food and puts the bowl to the side as he lays himself lavishly across the couch. The movie finishes and he lazily flicks through the channels again. A telemarketing channel catches his attention as he whizzes past, the presenter is showing off women’s underwear. It’s at this point he turns the TV off.
Sighing and flopping his head back onto the soft, leather arm of the couch, he lets his eyes wander back to the bedroom door again. Back to the closet. Back to... Oh, for God’s sake.
Jong-woo hits a pillow in frustration as he curses Moon-jo for buying them in the first place and especially for not telling him beforehand, leading to his current mental strife. He heaves himself up and into the bedroom, not letting himself stop at the closet door as he breezes in and takes out the bundles of black and pink lace. They are soft to touch in his hands.
He storms towards the mirror at the back of the walk-in closet (of course there’s a mirror) and stares into his own eyes, not letting himself think any thoughts of what he’s doing as he undresses hastily.
Jong-woo tries the black ones first, because somehow they are less intimidating to him. He steps into them and pulls them slowly up his legs, the rough edges of the lace sending tingling sensations throughout his body.
They fit, unsurprisingly, as Moon-jo probably knows his measurements to a T. Jong-woo watches himself in the mirror as the elastic pings around his waist into place, locking in the confirmation of what he’s doing. He has to admit, he can see the appeal of both wearing and seeing people wear these lace garments. They dip into his hips gracefully, barely cover his ass and leave little to the imagination about the state of his cock.
Jong-woo likes it a lot apparently, going off his body’s reaction. As he moves, he gasps at the sensation of the lace against his now aching cock. He pulls them up higher and feels them against his sensitive hole, still unrecovered from this morning and the several nights before.
More excitedly, this time, he peels the underwear off and grabs the other pair. Pretty, baby pink against his rapidly flushing pale skin. He slips them on and studies himself again, his cock only continues to harden under the restrictions of lace. The fabric prettily strains under the tension, his cock begging to be set free.
Jong-woo’s breathing has gone funny and it catches in his throat as he twists his backside towards the mirror. Just above the top of his ass, where the lace strings all connected, there is a small bow. It’s delicate and dainty; when Jong-woo sees himself in the mirror he feels the same way. Pale pink, fragile and safe, he wants to be taken care of.
Suddenly, he feels a strong yearning for Moon-jo’s return. Not only did he want to thank and yell at him for what he’d undoubtably bought, he also wanted him; he needed him.
Jong-woo is so caught up in his thoughts that he fails to see or sense the presence of another behind him. He’s scooped up into muscular arms bridal style before he can protest. As soon as he starts struggling, however, his body apparently recognises the firm arms supporting him as he involuntarily relaxes. Looking up, he meets Moon-jo’s handsome face, surprisingly lightly dusted pink. He doesn’t look or say anything to Jong-woo as he carries him; he’s entirely unpredictable.
He hits the bed with a small noise of protest, landing face-up. Moon-jo stands tall over him from the bottom of the bed, watching as he scrambles to sit up. He’s staring intensely at him with fiery eyes.
Jong-woo is so overwhelmed with this turn of events that he almost forgets to be bashful about his appearance. Moon-jo’s dark and hungry look, however, quickly reminds him of his clothing (or lack there of) and he frantically attempts to pull the duvet cover over himself.
“Uh-uh,” Moon-jo teases in a playful tone, stopping his hands from pulling at the covers, “jagiya, let me see you.”
Moon-jo releases his hands with a look of admiration, directing his gaze across his whole body. Shyly, Jong-woo forces himself to relax and brings himself to lie flush against the sheets. However, he’s pretty sure he’s already turned an alarming shade of deep pink.
“Beautiful. You are worthy of royalty, jagi. So good for me. Only me.”
The other says it so sincerely that Jong-woo almost feels worshipped. It makes him feel powerful, like a god. Jong-woo holds his gaze when it returns back to his brown, Bambi eyes, letting the sudden confidence fuel him.
Moon-jo moves forward onto the bed towards Jong-woo and lets his outreached hands fall to either side of Jong-woo’s chest. Lightly, as he runs his warm hands down, he grazes the younger’s nipples, shooting sensations of unprecedented pleasure down to Jong-woo’s cock. Moon-jo also tantalisingly traces his ribs, prominent and sharp beneath his skin.
Finally, his hands reach their destination and Moon-jo’s fingers slip underneath the thin lace. Jong-woo breathes heavily at the feeling. His fingers tease as he speaks, slipping neither behind or in front of his hips.
“I didn’t think you’d find them this early,” He says, leaning down to kiss Jong-woo’s inner thigh whilst maintaining eye-contact, “Or like them so much...”
He follows this with sharp bites to the soft skin Jong-woo’s fleshy thighs. Marking them red and raw. Jong-woo can’t stop himself shifting against the bed as he feels Moon-jo start to pull the pink fabric down, exposing his ass and cock into the warm air.
Wandering hands find their way to Jong-woo’s behind and knead into the flesh of his ass cheeks. Still holding his gaze, Jong-woo attempts to convey his needs with his eyes alone, staring helplessly down at the man at his crotch. Moon-jo must pity him, as he engulfs Jong-woo’s straining cock into his dexterous mouth.
Jong-woo responds with a loud yelp, accidentally bucking into the older’s mouth. Moon-jo retaliates with a forceful hand on his pelvis to push him down. Jong-woo revels in the pleasure as the surely experienced man sucks and licks at his cock with purpose, taking all of him in at once. It doesn’t take long before Jong-woo feels as though he’s about to cum, his hips begin to stutter and Moon-jo can read him amazingly as he pulls off suddenly, leaving him teetering on the edge.
“Nooo, no, I-“ Jong-woo’s whine is cut off by Moon-jo pulling himself up the bed to become level with his face. He kisses him with tongue as he urges the other to turn onto his back.
“I know, baby. I know.”
The new nickname does nothing to aid his desperate situation, only causing him to spurt in anticipation and for it to fall onto the pale pink lace that still falls around his thighs. He falls onto his front and the pressure on his cock in between his weight and the bed is so inviting. However, Jong-woo forces himself to listen to Moon-jo and go along with what the other says. He clutches the sheets tightly in his fists to keep himself still.
Moon-jo urges him to bring his knees up under him, causing his ass to thrust up into the air. His everything so vulnerably exposed. Jong-woo attempts to widen his stance on the bed but is restricted by the lace underwear pooling at his knees. Moon-jo has it this way on purpose, he supposes. What feels like minutes go by as he waits patiently.
“So good for me, so pliant.” Moon-jo’s words fill the room as he once again turns his attention to Jong-woo’s thighs, kissing upwards. He soon reaches his hole and makes no hesitation before plunging his tongue into and around it.
Jong-woo emits a shocked gasp. No one has ever done this to him before, taken him apart in this way. It morphs into a low whine and he can’t help but push back against Moon-jo’s face.
“Uh, yes, yes, yes.” He repeats the word like a mantra, unable to stop. Moon-jo’s warm tongue swirls against his fluttering rim and his hands dig into the flesh of his ass mercilessly, leaving red marks.
Eventually, Jong-woo’s hole loosens with the help of a few fingers and Moon-jo is able to plunge his tongue inside. Jong-woo has never felt such pleasure; the slick instrument pleasurably massages his inner walls, licking into him like he was the most delicious dessert. Jong-woo continues to press back against him, desperately chasing his high. When Moon-jo returns the two fingers, also, beside his tongue, it’s a wonder that Jong-woo stays upright on his knees as he burrows his head into the pillows and he muffles his moan.
“Moon-jo,” Jong-woo slightly manages, “jagi-, please.”
The man lifts his tongue out of him to answer, but fills him with another finger, pushing them into his ass roughly, stretching him intently.
“What, darling?” Moon-jo feigns ignorance and Jong-woo shoots him daggers with his eyes once he catches them. Moon-jo only continues to move his fingers faster, the other hand pressing on his hip. “I want to hear you say it.”
Jong-woo whimpers helplessly under the pressure and stimulation in his ass and closes his eyes as he turns away and muffled his speech against the pillows. Moon-jo stills his movements in response, forcing Jong-woo to whip around and look at him. He asks him to repeat what he said.
“I want you to fuck me,” He exclaims loudly, holding his gaze. Once he starts he can’t stop himself, “Fuck me, please, jagi, I need it.”
Moon-jo’s dark look suddenly comes over him again and Jong-woo feels another wave of excitement course through him. The fingers in his ass are removed quickly before Jong-woo feels an even more desirable object pushing at the rim of his gaping hole. The air gets knocked out of him as Moon-jo slams his cock into him, bottoming out immediately and being able to do so through the the rigorous and relentless fucking Jong-woo had been subjected to all week. He revels in it though.
Jong-woo can only clutch the sheets tighter and grit his teeth as the other man thrusts into him again and again, each movement bringing him immeasurable amounts of pain and pleasure. Once Moon-jo falls into a steady rhythm, he feels one of his now sweaty hands clutch onto the back of Jong-woo’s hair and pull his head back, forcing his face to point upwards. Jong-woo relishes the sensation and lets out breathy gasps in time with Moon-jo’s thrusts that reverberate around the room.
Feeling his back dip a little and curve inwards, Moon-jo continues to drive in his thick cock into Jong-woo’s abused hole, pulling it all the way out until only the very tip remains and then slamming the full length of his girth right back in. Caught in the moment, Jong-woo weakly makes an attempt to snake his own hand down to alleviate some of the pressure on his poor, weeping cock. But his hand is quickly batted away by Moon-jo, who simply tells him ‘no’.
Moon-jo grabs his cock instead and holds it momentarily, jerking it up and down before he seems to decide something. As his movements slow and his cock is removed, Jong-woo whines sharply in protest.
“I want to see you, jagiya, turn over.”
Jong-woo flips himself over eagerly but not easily, Moon-jo lays down beside him on his back and pulls Jong-woo on top of him, sitting with his thighs bracing his waist. Jong-woo is tired and uncoordinated so Moon-jo helps him position himself over his leaking cock and holds his hips as he slams himself down onto it.
A silent scream escapes Jong-woo’s lungs as Moon-jo’s cock drives deeper into him than before, hitting his prostate in the process. He continues to angle himself accordingly as he heaves himself upwards and drops down onto the other’s cock rhythmically. His hole feels stretched to the limits, aching and stuffed full. Jong-woo braces his hands on Moon-jo’s chest as he bares himself down again and again and again, chasing his orgasm.
Then, Moon-jo suddenly starts thrusting up to meet him and Jong-woo’s pretty sure he touches the edge of heaven. The large cock drives up mercilessly into him, hitting his sweet spot each time, and Jong-woo can take it no more. His cock releases it’s load onto both their stomachs, twitching feebly in his after shock.
Exhausted, he falls forward onto Moon-jo’s chest, barely managing to hold himself up as the other man continues to slam upwards into him, his tight hole creating divine pressure on the cock inside. Jong-woo lets Moon-jo plunge upwards into him continuously as he sits on his cock, shifting up and down on his thrusts, to let him chase his own release. He can’t help but whimper at the overstimulation.
After a dozen more rhythmless thrusts, Moon-jo spills his load into him and Jong-woo finally lets himself fall against the other man’s chest. Moon-jo’s softening cock is still buried deep within him as he wraps his arms around the warm body and tries to calm his heart. He feels Moon-jo press a kiss into his hair and he smiles against his sweaty skin, when Moon-jo attempts to move him up and off, Jong-woo protests.
“I need to clean you up, baby.”
Moon-jo’s reasoning falls on deaf ears and Jong-woo clenches his hole around Moon-jo’s cock as he replies to him.
“Just a little longer.” He breathes, relishing in the sensation of being filled. He doesn’t think anything could beat this, ever.
Moon-jo’s surprised chuckle resounds in his own body through their connection.
“Anything for you, jagiya, anything.”
Moon-jo looks positively delicious. He’s about to attend the ’Seoul Awards for Dentistry’ (Jong-woo was originally quite surprised such a thing even exists) and is dressed in his best decorative, black suit and shirt which probably cost more alone than the entirety of anything Jong-woo used to own. Moon-jo’s hair is styled perfectly, framing his handsome features in just the right way and the cologne he had previously sprayed still holds heavy in the air.
“Come on, otherwise we’ll be late.”
Moon-jo’s deep voice hurries him off his train of thought, Jong-woo stands from his position on the bed and moves to stand next to him in front of the mirror. He fiddles with his own onyx locks anxiously and thinks how his own appearance pales in comparison to his tall, model-like lover.
Arms enclose around his waist and Moon-jo leans his chin down onto his shoulder, holding him flush against his chest. Jong-woo shifts against him, uncomfortable in his own two-piece suit with a scratchy, yet expensive shirt. He stares at the pair of them in the mirror.
“You’re thinking about how you look,” Moon-jo states, locking into eye contact in the mirror with him, “You look delectable.”
Jong-woo has a half mind to roll his eyes but manages to suppress it with difficulty. Instead, he shifts his gaze from the reflection to reality.
“So do you.” He tells Moon-jo honestly as he straightens his collar and tie for him even though they were already perfect as they were. Jong-woo doesn’t look up at the other’s eyes, but doesn’t have to to know he’s being smiled at.
“I can’t believe you’re actually making me go.”
The first time the idea was brought up to him he may or may not have been so surprised that he pretended to already be asleep. The second time, they were both in the shower the next morning so there was no escape.
”Come with me, jagi.” Moon-jo had said as he ran heavy hands gently through his lover’s hair.
Jong-woo had considered this very carefully. This was a whole new level for him, and their relationship(?). Sex was one thing... but this...
“Would I be your... date?” He’d asked timidly as the water had splashed down around them. Moon-jo had also placed a warm palm on his abdomen then, making him tense up underneath his hands.
“Yes.” The other man had answered, as simple as that. Oh. Okay.
Jong-woo didn’t say anything for a while, diligently paying attention to washing his upper body, so Moon-jo had gone on.
“Please? I want you to come.”
Something about Moon-jo asking so politely and gently must’ve done something crazy to him, because he’d agreed. From that moment forth, however, he’d began to feel like he had more of a say in this relationship than he’d originally believed. Moon-jo didn’t just want to have Jong-woo, he wanted to be with him just as much. It was surprising to say the least.
Moon-jo grin is beaming as he tilts his head up, he slips cool fingers underneath his chin as he places a neat and conservative kiss on his lips, like he knows they’ll never make the award ceremony if they do any more.
“I’m not making you,” Moon-jo says with a slight frown, “You said yes.”
“Yes, I did.” Jong-woo adds sullenly with a sigh. Agreeing last week had seemed trivial, but on the actual day when they’re both dressed and ready to leave in glitzy, branded suits he’s starting to feel a little out of his league.
“Are you ready?” Moon-jo asks him, slipping his hands back around his waist, “The driver is already downstairs.”
Driver?! Okay, so, he’s very out of his league maybe. Jong-woo withholds a large gulp as he nods in the affirmative and moves with Moon-jo to the front door.
The venue is a grand hall, larger than any building Jong-woo had ever been in before, and it’s painted in blacks and golds, presumably the theme of the night. When they arrive, they’re politely ushered out of the car that Jong-woo thinks doesn’t belong to Moon-jo but can’t be quite sure and directed towards their table, where no one else was yet sat. There’s got to be at least thirty tables, many already filled, painting a sea of black, blues and greys spotted with a colourful dress every now and then. Jong-woo never knew dentistry could be such a big bloody deal.
When he mentions something of the sort to Moon-jo out of nervousness as he shifts in his seat, the other tells him that the awards only occur every three years, partially explaining why it’s such a big event, he supposes.
Moon-jo’s hand still cups the small of his back; he’s grateful for the comfort as he glances round rather frantically trying to take everything in. He hadn’t really been anywhere rather than the apartment and his workplace, which had happened to be a very nice yet small office downtown. This also meant he hadn’t interacted with about more than five people in the past few weeks, now he was in a place with hundreds.
A waiter offers them champagne or something of the sort and Jong-woo takes it a little too graciously, necking it back quickly. Moon-jo’s large hand grabs onto his own, holding the glass and he makes him set it down lightly.
“Slow down,” Moon-jo tells him with a slight chuckle and a watchful eye, “We have all night.”
Jong-woo openly groans at the reminder, at least three full hours of social interaction (yay!). His face must also not look appeased as Moon-jo softens and leans forward to talk lowly into his ear.
“Don’t worry, I’ll fend them off for you.”
However, Jong-woo translates this to ’I’ll protect you’ from his tone, and he instantly feels a little better. He shuffles his chair closer to Moon-jo’s and sighs resignedly.
To his credit, Moon-jo does a very good job of making Jong-woo’s social interaction minimal. When the first member of Moon-jo’s practice arrives speaking loudly, apparently already half drunk, Moon-jo is quick to get him to sit beside him rather than Jong-woo, for which he is grateful. They speak about next week’s appointments and the red-faced man does a good job of taking little to no interest in Jong-woo. This may not actually be too bad. He starts to think.
Jong-woo’s checking his watch when the space beside him is filled. He glances up quickly to see a short yet slender woman with a young-looking face. She interjects excitedly before he can utter any kind of greeting.
“You’re Dr. Seo’s plus one, right?” Her voice is a high timbre in his ears. Jong-woo processes her words quickly before his eyes widen.
“Uh...” He begins intelligently, she’s looking at him so earnestly that he just says, “..yes?”
She smiles widely and Jong-woo doesn’t know whether to relax or move more towards Moon-jo again. In desperation he discreetly taps the other man’s thigh under the table to attract his attention from the rest of the newly arrived members.
“I knew it,” She says definitively as she leans more into his precious personal space, “Jong-woo, right?”
The sound of his real name only alarms him even more. He pulls on Moon-jo’s trousers again more urgently. She’s still gazing at him expectantly when he’s rescued.
“Ah, hello Hee-mi,” Moon-jo greets in a tone Jong-woo cannot otherwise identify as fake, fake, fake, “I see you’ve met Jong-woo.”
Moon-jo turns to look at him at that, as if to confirm, yes, I used your real name with these people. Jong-woo stares back at him questioningly, there’s only a couple of situations in which this may seem reasonable to him. Perhaps Moon-jo is so highly above these people in the workplace that he simply believes they would not dare go to the police if they found something out, or maybe he’s so confident in his ability to clean and cover up that he doesn’t think this kind of safety net even matters in the workplace.
Jong-woo holds his gaze with the obsidian-black eyes and suddenly he understands. These people are nothing to Moon-jo, insignificant and dispensable in an instant. He doesn’t need to be careful because these people simply do not matter. Moon-jo’s eyes glitter suddenly under the dim lights and Jong-woo knows he can see his recognition. A light smirk pulled his way confirms it.
“Nice to meet you.” Jong-woo greets the girl politely, bowing his head slightly. Hee-mi does the same, looking a little sheepish for her lack of manners before.
“It’s so great to meet you!” Her excitement both makes him force a chuckle and wince at the noise, “Believe me, we were all so curious to find that Dr. Seo had a partner.”
She may descend into a fit of giggles, but Jong-woo is struck silent. Partner? Moon-jo had actually put a name on it?
He whips round to the other man who is currently taking long sips of water indifferently.
“Partner?!” He mouths at him, slightly neurotically. Moon-jo simply smirks and shrugs. That’s that then. He supposes. Okay.
“Uh, yes,” He says, turning back to his other side, “Yeah, partner.”
The word sounds weird in his mouth, but he finds that he likes that he has a label. He’s Moon-jo’s. Jong-woo’s heart races a little at the thought and Moon-jo grabs his hand on top of his knees under the table, obviously listening in. Partner. He could do this.
The rest of the night runs rather smoothly, he lets everyone else do most of the talking. Hee-mi seems to prattle on enough for all of them, so Jong-woo lets her and Moon-jo wins ‘best newcomer’ because of course he does. Jong-woo scoffs at the thought that he’s certainly not a ‘newcomer’ when it comes to teeth. The company Moon-jo’s with is apparently one of the best in Seoul; he’s not surprised as he didn’t expect any less. They’re all on their last glasses of champagne when Jong-woo excuses himself to the toilet.
The large, brightly-lit mirror displays the fatigue on his face as he enters the bathroom, he ignores his appearance entirely in a beeline for the urinals. Champagne just goes straight through him, he swears. Jong-woo is washing his hands attentively when a taller, heftily-built man strolls out of the stalls to the sink next to him. Clothed in an expensive suit and carrying himself with visible arrogance, Jong-woo immediately decides he doesn’t like him. He throws away his paper towels as he hears the other man clear his throat.
Jong-woo turns to see him lavishly leaning against the wall beside him. He raises his eyebrows in a kind of ‘can I help you?’ expression. The tall man says nothing and walks closer and closer to him until his back hits the tiled wall. Jong-woo’s head hits the ceramic surface with a hard thud as he tries to avoid the strong waft of alcohol from the man’s breath.
“You- you’re with that Dr. Seo, aren’t you,” The man’s words are slurred, Jong-woo tries to slip under the arms trapping him in only to be caught in his grasp, “No, no, you’re- you should come back with me instead.”
The man’s words are sultry but only make Jong-woo’s stomach turn with disgust.
“No thank you,” Jong-woo states politely, he doesn’t want to cause unnecessary trouble for Moon-jo at work, not if he can help it, “I’ll leave now.”
“No. You won’t.”
His adrenaline spikes when the man shoves him into the wall again and he bangs his head, fire beginning to burn in his stomach. The same as that last fateful day at the Eden Residence. Jong-woo snaps his head back to the man, his gaze smouldering and dangerous. His eyes fall just to his right as a glint of metal catches the light, it’s a fancy ornamental bowl placed on the sink to contain soap. That looks heavy enough, Jong-woo thinks. If he could just grab it he could swing it over this man’s head and leave him bleeding out on the bathroom floor.
He’s mentally counting to three to make the sudden lunge when the door is swung open and it slams against the tiles with a sharp crack. Jong-woo only has to hear three light paces cross the wooden floor for him to know who it is.
“Get off of him.”
The command is low and merely a growl. Jong-woo can feel the man’s grip on him tense. Yes. He thinks. Be afraid, run.
“No,” Jong-woo laughs as the man makes the stupid mistake of talking back to Seo Moon-jo, “He’s coming home with me, aren’t you jagiya?”
There’s a pregnant beat of silence before they both snap and move at the exact same time. Jong-woo grabs the silver bowl with swift grace before turning it round and whacking it into the side of the man’s head. Moon-jo surges forward and shoves him roughly off of Jong-woo, leaving the man slumped against the wall, knocked clean out. Jong-woo is still riddled with revulsion at the man’s use of their word as he attempts to catch his breath.
Moon-jo pulls Jong-woo off the tiles hurriedly and examines him all over. Jong-woo feels fine and he tells him so, but Moon-jo doesn’t listen and runs his hands through his hair gently, just in case. Apparently, rightly so, as Jong-woo can’t help but hiss as his fingers pass over a large bump on the back on his head.
Jong-woo looks up to meet Moon-jo’s eyes and sees them turn red. He has to use all of his strength to stop Moon-jo from flying forwards to the man and finishing him off with a furious blow to the head.
“I’m okay. I’m fine.” Jong-woo desperately tries to tell him, pushing against the other man’s arms to keep them at his sides. He’s struggling, however, so he grabs his face and kisses him instead.
It takes a while, but he begins to feel Moon-jo soften and calm under his tongue, the taller man presses into the kiss enthusiastically and pulls Jong-woo close to his body. In between breaths Moon-jo mumbles, “I could kill him. Should kill him.”
Jong-woo can’t believe he’s disagreeing currently when he tells him, “Not now. Not here. Later.”
He feels Moon-jo grin into the kiss as they come together again. Jong-woo takes full advantage and explores his mouth with his tongue to display his thankfulness and Moon-jo hums against his mouth affectionately. Eventually, they resurface.
“We’re going home.” Moon-jo implores, Jong-woo whole-heartedly agrees and resists trying to point out that’s what he’d been saying all night. He automatically turns towards the unconscious man on the floor with a question in his eyes.
“Leave him. He is where he belongs.”
He’s tugged out of the bathroom before Jong-woo realises they didn’t even check if the man was even still alive. They say brief goodbyes to Moon-jo’s colleges, who congratulate him again before saying goodbye. Hee-mi waves enthusiastically at them as they leave, Jong-woo just smiles at the thought of home. At the thought of getting out of his formal clothes and at the thought of getting Moon-jo out of his suit, too.
They crash through the front door together unceremoniously and just about make it, falling onto the couch. They’ve been intertwined and inseparable since they got in the back of their car and were safely on their way home. Jong-woo moans into the kiss as he lands on top of Moon-jo’s firm and muscular body on the couch.
He’s running his adventurous hands across his toned chest when an idea blooms and grows in his mind. Jong-woo moves away from Moon-jo’s mouth and motions him to sit properly against the couch. Moon-jo simply follows, observing him curiously. Once the taller man is in position, Jong-woo promptly drops himself in his lap.
They had both long since lost their jackets and their shirts were certainly on the way out. Moon-jo watches him intently as he unbuttons his shirt and helps Jong-woo take it off of his toned arms. Jong-woo carefully unbuttons Moon-jo’s and does the same, nearly dropping it over the side of the sofa. Jong-woo lets out a sigh at nothing but skin finally being in between them.
Moon-jo brings their lips back together with pressure inflicted on his lower back, pushing their bodies closer together. Jong-woo rolls his hips experimentally against the other man, as if he was doing it for the first time, not the fiftieth. That earns him a low rumble and moan from Moon-jo. He smiles into the kiss, proud.
Jong-woo takes this moment to shoot his shot. He pulls back from the kiss using a firm palm against Moon-jo’s chest, pinning him in place.
“Jagi,” He starts, in what he hopes is a seductive and tempting tone, “Will you let me lead?”
Jong-woo, observing the other intently, sees a flash of something in Moon-jo’s eyes, he’s not quite sure what. Moon-jo’s grip on his thighs tightens but he does not answer.
“You said you’d do anything for me,” He tries again, “Remember? Anything.”
Moon-jo looks like he rather regrets that statement now, not in principle but in this current situation. Jong-woo understands; he likes to be in charge. To be in control. But he can’t help thinking about how hot it would be to have such an apex and dangerous man at his mercy.
For the first time, Jong-woo thinks he may see the other man’s eyes shift nervously.
“Is this what you want?” Moon-jo asks quietly, still grasping onto Jong-woo’s waist and looking like he’s desperately trying to keep his hips still. It makes Jong-woo grin so he leans down again to kiss him. He breaks away to nod at him in answer.
Moon-jo seems to settle further back into the couch as he answers, relaxing and following Jong-woo’s lead. God, this is already doing it for him.
He runs light fingers over the contours of Moon-jo’s built body as he sucks and licks at his lips. His tongue invades Moon-jo’s mouth purposefully, tasting and savouring every inch. When he pulls back, Moon-jo can’t help but ask, “What do you want me to d-“
But his words are cut off by a swift singular finger shushing him on his lips. Moon-jo’s eyes flash up to Jong-woo’s widely, as if surprised, yet he does not say anything more. Jong-woo returns his wandering hands to his hot body again, covering every inch. He slides down on Moon-jo’s lap until he’s level with his chest and then proceeds to lick and tongue his sensitive nipples, stimulating them. Even Moon-jo, the coldest and most reserved man he has ever met, is unable to suppress his weak gasps at the sensation.
Jong-woo smirks against his skin, smug in his accomplishment. Moon-jo’s hands attempt to grab his face and pull him back upwards yet Jong-woo easily pushes them back down to hold them against the sofa at his sides. Jong-woo proceeds even further down the restricted man’s torso and places lingering kisses on his abdomen and then across the waistline of his boxers. Jong-woo’s mouth starts to water at the sight of the tempting V-line.
He slots in his tongue and licks down, following it as far as he can with Moon-jo still partially clothed.
“Up. Take all your things off.” Jong-woo tries out as a command, he doesn’t know how intimidating he really sounds but Moon-jo follows his order anyway. He holds his gaze intensely as he peels off his tight trousers and pants in one go. Moon-jo’s grin is present as he sits back on the couch.
Rather eagerly, Jong-woo climbs back towards him and follows the V back down to the object of his desire. Moon-jo’s cock stands proud, red and glistening with pre-cum. Jong-woo can barely contain himself before he tells Moon-jo to sit still as he goes on.
Fitting his smaller hands around Moon-jo’s large cock, he settles one at the base after a few strokes. Jong-woo establishes keen eye-contact with Moon-jo before he sinks his mouth down around him and stares up at him prettily under his eyelashes. Moon-jo has to make himself look away before he grabs the younger man’s head and fucks his mouth into oblivion.
Jong-woo moves his lips up and down his cock slowly on purpose, letting himself tease as he has been teased in the past by the man underneath him. He swirls his tongue around the tip every time he comes back up to the head and catches the salty taste of Moon-jo’s cum. He moans, allowing him to go even further down on Moon-jo’s cock when he next takes him in, his nose almost grazing the other’s navel.
Jong-woo’s mouth leaves Moon-jo’s cock with a tantalising ‘pop’ sound and he gives it one more kittenish lick before he asks. “Do you like it, jagiya?” And he watches as Moon-jo quickly looks down at him but does not answer.
He tries again, “Do you like it when I suck on your cock?” Jong-woo gives Moon-jo his best ‘innocent’ look before he insists, “Answer me.”
Moon-jo looks down at him in pure, dazed amazement as he breathes a shaky, “Yes, jagiya.”
Satisfied, Jong-woo returns to servicing his cock, immediately engulfing it again into his hot wanton mouth. He hears Moon-jo hiss and curse above him and this may possibly be the best day of his life. This perfect man has unraveled in his very hands.
Glancing quickly to the side, Jong-woo can see Moon-jo’s hands desperately trying to do what they were told and remain motionless, clutching onto the couch for dear life. Another devilish idea springs to his mind; Jong-woo moves his own hands from where they were supporting himself against Moon-jo’s thighs and grabs the others’. Jong-woo then settles one of Moon-jo’s palms against his cheek, he hears Moon-jo’s breath catch when he feels and understands his action.
Jong-woo starts bringing his mouth down on Moon-jo’s cock more rapidly and uncoordinatedly. The result is Moon-jo’s cock often hitting and distending the stretch of his cheeks, with Moon-jo’s hand flat against the side of his face he can feel all of this. Moon-jo can feel his cock slamming against the inside of Jong-woo’s mouth as the younger hums in satisfaction.
Jong-woo notices Moon-jo’s muscles begin to tense, so he feels purely evil when he pulls off of him again. Moon-jo tries to protest by tugging his face back down, Jong-woo pulls his hand away again. Moon-jo’s limbs all seem weak under the pressure of the adrenaline surely coursing through his body as Jong-woo leans back to sit on this lower thighs. Moon-jo’s brain seems to have barely caught up when he breathily pleads with him.
“Jagi- Jong-woo, please.”
Jong-woo think he just might cum himself at this ravishing sight, Moon-jo hot and sweaty and waiting for his action or command.
“Baby, please,” Moon-jo tries again, “Just let me-“
Jong-woo moves forward and kisses his dark red lips to shut him up.
“You did well,” Jong-woo praises because he honestly did. He’d barely believed Moon-jo would even let him do such a thing. Moon-jo hums into his mouth as he just about eats him. He groans when he pulls back, Jong-woo grins and holds onto his shoulders to steady himself.
“So I’ll let you do something,” He finishes, smirking at Moon-jo’s eyes visibly lighting up at taking charge again, “I pick though.”
Moon-jo pulls his head to his again and just kisses him passionately. Jong-woo takes it as an ‘okay’ and he moves back down Moon-jo’s body and eventually off the sofa and onto the soft carpet. He settles comfortably on his knees (or as comfortably as one could be) at the foot of where Moon-jo sits.
“You’re gonna fuck my mouth.” Jong-woo tells him lowly. Moon-jo wastes absolutely no time at all and springs to his feet animatedly, excitement clear by the large grin now spread across his face. He settles in front of Jong-woo, mouth and cock aligned.
Before he begins, however, Moon-jo places a hand under Jong-woo’s chin and tilts it upwards to meet his eyes.
“You are unreal, jagiya. I am so lucky to have you.”
With these words he presses his cock directly into Jong-woo’s mouth and he quickly builds up a brutal pace. Jong-woo remains still and wills his teeth and tongue to stay out of the way as he feels his throat open up as the large cock invades deeply. Moon-jo’s got a tight grip under his chin to keep his head still as he fucks into his warm mouth and it just adds to the overwhelming sensation.
Jong-woo lets Moon-jo use his mouth to get off, ramming his cock back and forth mercilessly. He feels tears start to form in the corners of his eyes as he gasps for air around the large cock and the tight grasp on his airway. He has to admit, as much as he enjoys the feeling of being in power over Moon-jo, he’d much rather be here, pliant under his partner’s control and at his mercy.
“Good boy,” Moon-jo praises through hurried grunts and hisses, “Taking my cock so well.”
Moon-jo then grabs the back of his head and hair to push his mouth onto him harder and shoving his cock ever deeper into Jong-woo’s throat. His lips are stretched obscenely wide over Moon-jo’s hefty girth.
“You love taking my cock, don’t you, baby?” Moon-jo’s words are so deep and low in tone they sound more like a growl, “You love being filled up by me. Only me.”
Jong-woo can only hum around Moon-jo’s cock in agreement as his mouth continues to be abused and he stares up at him with big brown eyes. The vibrations must send Moon-jo over the edge as he suddenly spills deep into Jong-woo’s throat; he takes deep care in trying to swallow every drop of Moon-jo’s cum, hungry for it. He fails, however, and a large amount leaks out of his mouth as Moon-jo carefully pulls out.
Moon-jo collects the excess from his swollen lips and offers it back to his mouth. Jong-woo sucks it off his thumb happily.
“You are not of this earth,” Moon-jo mostly seems to mutter to himself as he helps Jong-woo up. He grabs at Jong-woo’s still-clothed crotch as he asks, “Do you need to-“
Moon-jo stills when he feels the wetness of Jong-woo’s slacks.
“Jagi,” The taller man stares at his flushed face for a second before his lips pull up into a smirk, “Did you come from sucking me off?”
Jong-woo feels himself go bright red and in his sheepish nature he answers stubbornly, “No.” before he quickly turns and tries to leave to clean himself up in the shower. Moon-jo laughs fondly as he grabs him before he can go. He swings him back round into his embrace and places a brief and light kiss to him lips.
“Let me go with you.” Moon-jo suggests, circling his arms around his waist protectively and suggestively. Jong-woo can only roll his eyes and sigh.
“God, you’re insatiable.”
Jong-woo quickly swivels round at the sound of his lover’s voice.
“I’m sorry, what?”
He notices Moon-jo is grinning his grin as he wanders over and situates himself in front of Jong-woo’s view of the TV. He’d been absentmindedly watching a movie as he waits for Moon-jo finish on his laptop and cook dinner. He’s been working 24/7 all day and partially ignoring Jong-woo, to his annoyance.
“He owns the ‘Cheongdam dentistry’ downtown. Yong Han-min isn’t in it to help people though, he just uses it as a ruse to launder money.”
Jong-woo is still staring up at him from the couch because he has no idea what’s going on. Moon-jo just continues, his words getting louder as he delivers them with a sharp bite.
“He’s also been put on trial for sexual harassment and sexual assault several times without a conviction. Many people suspect he bought his way out of it as the evidence seemed undeniable.”
Moon-jo is positively seething now, his teeth showing as his mouth has twisted into more of a grimace as he reels off this man’s crimes.
“He also plays poker at an illegal underground location every Tuesday and returns to his house at about three in the morning...”
It’s at this point that Jong-woo finally catches his drift. The man from the other night; the one he had barely stopped Moon-jo from killing there and then in the bathroom of a fancy banquet hall. Jong-woo feels the corners of his mouth twist up into a smile.
“Are you suggesting what I think?” He asks Moon-jo with a raised eyebrow. It was Tuesday today. Moon-jo’s grin returns at the sound of interest in his voice.
“Yes, jagiya,” He announces, the words easily flowing off his tongue, “Tonight, we are going out.”
Jong-woo feels his hands shiver with excitement as he shifts back and forth in the leather seat of Moon-jo’s slick, black car. They’d done this before and it had gone reasonably well, as far as murders go. It’s been a couple weeks since now and the police haven’t even released a missing person’s report for the man Moon-jo and Jong-woo had disposed of.
He felt different this time though. Maybe it’s because he’s a bit more involved, personally. Their last victim had made a rude remark about Moon-jo and it turned out to be the last thing he’d ever do. Before that, as well, Jong-woo is 99% sure that the vacancy at the publishing company he’d began working at hadn’t suddenly opened because one of their key editors had mysteriously and spontaneously decided to ‘emigrate to China’. Jong-woo has no complaints though.
The point is, however, that neither of them had required him to do much of the work. This time, as soon as they had pulled up in the darkness of a side alley and Moon-jo started explaining the timings to him, he instantly feels rage and anticipation begin to wash over him. But that’s a good thing; Jong-woo wants to make this bastard pay.
They both sit deathly still in the shadows, waiting for the unsuspecting prey to wander mindlessly into their trap. It only takes half an hour for Yong Han-min to show up, swaggering his way down the dimly lit street in this withered industrial area. Arrogant. Selfish. Jong-woo already knows Moon-jo is thinking the same thing.
Moon-jo slips silently out of the car first and effortlessly slinks into the shadows of the blind-spots of the flickering street-lights. The other man has no chance.
Jong-woo soon follows, clicking the car door shut as quietly as he can, and plays with the weight of the knife in his hand. This one in particular was his favourite. It has a decorative wooden handle without subtracting from his grip and a freshly sharpened blade that shines a bright white under the moonlight. Also, Moon-jo gave it to him.
He follows Moon-jo’s steps down the side of the pavement and watches as he disappears just ahead of him, following the unsuspecting man around a corner and into the pitch-black dark of a back alley.
“Yong Han-min,” Moon-jo’s deep voice cuts like a blade against the silence of the night, “Fancy seeing you again.”
Han-min turns with a jump at the sound of his voice and Jong-woo must suppress his laughter at his widely surprised eyes. It’s almost comic. Jong-woo can’t see, but he knows Moon-jo is grinning at him.
“Dr- Dr. Seo,” The man barely manages to stutter out, hand coming up subconsciously to rub on his head where Jong-woo knows he’d hit him previously, “I-I want to, uh-“
“Apologise?” Moon-jo asks, his tone increasing in pitch incredulously. He shakes his head as he continues, “I don’t think it’s me you need to be apologising to.”
Han-min only visibly panics further. From the shadows, Jong-woo can see his eyes flicker down to where Moon-jo’s hands are neatly clasped behind his lower back. Jong-woo can see the handle of the knife tucked into his dark sleeve, Han-min, however, is paralysed with the fear of the unknown.
“Oh, well- I,” Han-min has started slowly trying to inch backwards now up the alley as he struggles to form coherent words. There’s no where to run to, though, they’ve checked. He stutters some more before he manages to frantically spit some words out.
“I can give you money! Yes,” Han-min’s nodding earnestly and wringing his hands, “Yes, money. Lots of it!” He’s moving faster by the second.
Moon-jo emits a loud tut and he advances slowly forward, simulating a tiger’s prowl.
“Han-min, didn’t you ever learn that gambling is the son of avarice and the father of despair?” Moon-jo’s eyes are steady but his voice is now more of a growl, “Eventually, things catch up with you.”
It is now that Jong-woo springs from the darkness of the alley’s side and stealthily approaches Han-min from behind, as per the plan. The man had been so busy squirming under Moon-jo’s dead gaze and threatening words that Jong-woo had been able to slip by undetected, now allowing him to forcefully stab his knife into the man’s back.
Han-bin falls forward with a pained wheeze, apparently no longer so talkative and cocky, but Moon-jo quickly attacks from the front with inhuman speed, driving his own weapon into the man’s chest. They lock their eyes together as they simultaneously retract their knifes and throw Han-min carelessly against the corrugated metal of a shutter door.
Han-min is barely conscious and keeping himself up when Moon-jo hisses out, “He’s mine. Don’t you forget.”
He delivers his point with a forceful kick to the man’s side. Jong-woo’s heart might burst out of his chest from the exhilaration. He fiddles with his now crimson covered knife and turns it in his hands. Moon-jo quickly pats down their victim and removes all his valuables. This was their idea: a mugging gone wrong. No one would even question Han-min’s involvement in such things with his track record and acquaintances, nor care so much about his passing. It was perfect, it would surely work.
Han-min takes one more painful-sounding, wheezy breath before he manages a manic laugh, bringing blood to erupt out of his mouth. He sharply coughs after, letting it spill and spray down his front.
“You two are crazy,” He barely manages to say, “I don’t know what I saw,” Another broken breath, “In you,” Jong-woo gets a bloody finger pointed at him, “Anyway.”
Han-min seems to muster all his last strength as he spits on the floor at both their feet. “You revolt me.”
The bleeding man’s words mean nothing to Jong-woo. He’s learnt from Moon-jo clear enough, people like him are infinitesimal. A stain on the grand scheme of the world. Jong-woo can only feel antipathy well within him but can see Moon-jo about to snap anytime, seething at the man’s insults towards Jong-woo.
“Don’t,” Jong-woo tells him, lightly touching his clenched fist by his side, he holds his eyes steadily, “Let me.”
Jong-woo advances towards the slumped figure of the man and languidly lowers himself into a squat beside him. Han-min turns his head slightly towards him and Jong-woo observes the river of dark blood staining his dastardly face. The bastard is still grinning as he raises the blunt end of his weapon behind his head.
Han-min is trying to laugh again when Jong-woo pointedly interrupts and brings his face closer to the wounded man’s.
“Fuck you.” He spits out as he brings down his arm, striking Han-min in the head with a heart-stopping crack. Jong-woo can see the light fall from his eyes as the man’s face becomes covered in yet another sea of red. He feels an uncontrollable grin pull at his cheeks as he moves to stand up; he lets himself tower over his victim.
He hears shuffling behind him and turns, startled. But he soon relaxes when he remembers the presence of Moon-jo and can see him approaching. The taller man has a pensive and wistful look on his face.
“Jagiya,” Moon-jo begins, and it’s perhaps the rawest Jong-woo has ever heard his voice sound, “I love you.”
Jong-woo stares up at him, centimetres now between them, with a gaze he hopes conveys his feelings about Moon-jo. His body is physically exhausted, his mind is running at a million miles an hour still and is refusing to come down and his hands feel numb, shaking around the hilt of the knife.
Moon-jo’s eyes quickly become so fond and enamoured that Jong-woo is sure he must get the idea. Moon-jo brings his hands up to cup the younger’s face as he tilts it upwards to kiss him. Jong-woo can feel a wetness on his cheek, he can’t decide if it’s blood or tears or maybe a mix of both. There’s a clatter of metal as his knife hits the ground.
They kiss lavishly, tasting each other and revelling in the feeling of tender passion. Then they pull away slowly and Moon-jo is quick to take Jong-woo into his arms. He sways them quietly as Jong-woo still waits for his hammering heart to calm down. Jong-woo feels the warm whisper of Moon-jo’s breath against his ear.
“Let’s go home, jagiya. Let’s go home.”
Jong-woo is already home in his arms.