Rescue
Title: Rescue
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Wordcount: ~3200
Rating: R
Summary: Sequel to Red. Jongwoon can't get Ryeowook out of his head.
Notes: Unedited. I need sleep. For kellsung sorry its awful
Part of my 100 Word Challenge.
Jongwoon holds out three entire days.
The morning after, he’d woken to Ryeowook stumbling around his room, cursing under his breath while trying to locate his other sock. He sat up in bed, dug at his eyes with the heel of his hand and asked the boy what the hell he was doing banging around at seven in the morning. Ryeowook had just muttered something too quiet to hear and pulled the rest of his clothes together, swiping at the wrinkles. He took the money Jongwoon had pulled out the night before and was out the door before Jongwoon could wake up entirely.
Three days later, he pulls out of his driveway well past midnight and speeds off across town, hoping Ryeowook frequents the same corner. He almost gets lost twice and almost loses his nerve thrice before he sees the corner in the distance. Under the streetlamp are two figures, huddling close together near the pole. Jongwoon slows his car, creeping up to the light, hand poised to shift into high gear and bolt off if one of the figures is not the one he’s looking for. His foot presses down on the brake and he peers out the tinted glass. The two men turn toward car and eye it suspiciously. After a second, the taller of the two pushes the other forward and he stumbles to the curb. Jongwoon’s heart nearly stops when he recognizes Ryeowook.
He rolls the window down just a crack, just enough for Ryeowook’s eyes to look into the car.
“Jongwoon?” he asks quietly, eyebrows drawing up in nervousness.
“You free tonight?” Jongwoon questions, glancing back at the other man briefly. Ryeowook follows his eyes and draws his coat tighter around his shoulders.
“Yes.” Ryeowook reaches out and opens the door, sliding into the seat quickly and shutting the door with a snap. He locks the door and fumbles with the window, rolling it up. “Go. Drive.”
Jongwoon shifts gears and pulls away from the curb with a slight squeal of his tires, startled by Ryeowook’s sudden demand. Out the rearview mirror, he sees the other man standing right where his passenger door had been, glaring angrily at the car as it speeds away. He glances at Ryeowook as he falls into normal traffic and the small adrenaline rush leaves his veins.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to stay out there much longer, is all.” Ryeowook pulls the sleeves of his coat down over his hands and Jongwoon turns the heat up a little higher and turns his vent so it blows on Ryeowook. He doesn’t respond, just drives silently back to his apartment.
When they reach his flat, Jongwoon has almost no intention of sleeping with the kid. He can’t help but feel like something is terribly wrong, but he also was never very good at finding words. Instead of asking Ryeowook, he suggests he shower and shuts him in the bathroom, buying himself a few minute’s thinking time. The shower turns on and after a bit warm mist sneaks out between the floorboards and the door, suggesting very hot water. Jongwoon watches it eek out from where he’s plopped on the bed and rubs his temples.
By the time the water has stopped, too soon, in Jongwoon’s opinion, he’s no closer to deciding what to do than he was when the boy had first begun to scald himself. Instead, he was feeling something rather akin to self-loathing. Why couldn’t he get Ryeowook out of his mind? Why did he care so much about a skinny little prostitute he’d only met once before? He should have just agreed to let his colleagues set him up with someone, then his loneliness wouldn’t have gotten the best of him and he wouldn’t be in this situation at all.
A small hand touches his shoulder and he realizes a pair of bare feet have stopped in front of him. He jerks his head up and finds Ryeowook standing in front of him, not even a towel covering his body. Jongwoon gulps slightly at the slight and drags his eyes up to Ryeowook’s face. His hair is wet and plastered to his cheeks and his expression is unreadable.
“Are you ready?” he asks, pressing Jongwoon back onto the mattress and climbing above him. Jongwoon grabs his hips instinctively and thumbs along the red, overheated flesh. Ryeowook leans down and seals their lips in a kiss. He lies on top of Jongwoon, pressing his thigh flush against Jongwoon’s crotch, rolling his hips slightly.
“Wait,” Jongwoon gasps, feeling his resistance slipping. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“You’re paying, aren’t you?” is Ryeowook’s response, muffled against Jongwoon’s neck where he’s leaving open-mouthed kisses.
“That doesn’t matter. I want to know if you want this.”
Ryeowook pulls back and sits up, perched on Jongwoon’s clothed thighs. “What’s it matter?”
“Something’s not right about you. You seem upset, is all.” Jongwoon props himself up on his elbows.
“What do you know? All that matters is that you want to fuck me and I walk away with a bit more cash in my wallet. Don’t think for a second that you know me, got it?” Ryeowook hisses, face inches from Jongwoon’s, eyes narrowed challengingly.
Jongwoon nods silently, eyes wide and falls back onto the mattress. His worries are solved, he decides. Ryeowook clearly doesn’t think anything of their previous encounter other than an easy way to make some quick cash and he shouldn’t take it out of context. So when Ryeowook kisses him again, he shuts his brain off and kisses him right back, tongue sliding into Ryeowook’s mouth while his hands venture down his back, stopping when they are full with the soft flesh of Ryeowook’s ass.
The following minutes are rushed and blurred in Jongwoon’s memory: a hasty removal of clothing and an equally rushed foreplay, lube slopped on the sheets, and Ryeowook whimpering loudly against his mouth. His brain catches up with his body when he’s got Ryeowook on his knees and elbows, keening high in his throat into a pillow while he fucks him deep and slow from behind. His fingers are digging bruises into Ryeowook’s hips, but he can’t loosen his hold, can’t think of anything else but the way Ryeowook shudders beneath him everytime he pulls his hips back. He draws it out as long as he can stand and when he finishes, it’s with his chest pressed solidly against Ryeowook’s back, arms wound tightly around Ryeowook’s gripping the backs of his hands, lacing their fingers together. He drags one of Ryeowook’s hands down his own stomach, and helps him find his own climax, bodies still flush against one another.
He rolls to the side, unwinding his arms from Ryeowook. Ryeowook collapses, then, after a second, turns onto his side, away from Jongwoon, his sides still heaving. Jongwoon heaves himself up onto an elbow. A dark patch on the pillow catches his eye and he frowns. He reaches over and touches Ryeowook’s side, rolling him onto his back. Ryeowook’s eyes are red, but his face is dry.
He almost asks, are you okay, but the words catch in his throat as Ryeowook sits up. He climbs off the bed and staggers to the bathroom. Jongwoon lies back, arm still uselessly stretched out to the side. He has a strange lump in his throat, and when Ryeowook returns to the room, dressed in his jeans and coat, it slides down his esophagus and settles like a lead weight in his stomach.
“Pay up,” is all he says, dark bangs hiding his eyes. He sticks out his hand, waiting. Jongwoon pulls on a pair of sweatpants and digs through his sock drawer, where he’s kept the money he pulled out from the bank the morning after their first encounter. He hands over the wad of cash and sighs.
“Do you want to stay again? It’s cold tonight.”
“I’m used to it,” Ryeowook scoffs. He leaves the bedroom, heading for the front door, and Jongwoon trails behind him.
“D’you want me to drop you off somewhere?”
“No,” he growls, pulling on his shoes. Jongwoon watches from the middle of his living room, arms crossed loosely over his bare chest, the sheen of sweat still drying on tan skin. When Ryeowook straightens, he turns and looks Jongwoon in the eye. “Don’t come looking for me again, okay?”
With that, he’s out the door. Gone.
...
Jongwoon tries to forget Ryeowook, write him off as a strange encounter and a great fuck, but it’s easier said than done. At night, images of dark eyes and pink lips, protruding collarbones and pale thighs plague his mind. During the day, his attention is constantly captured by flashes of high cheekbones and thin wrists. He’s constantly on high-alert, searching for Ryeowook without seeking him out. But when he runs into him one afternoon outside a coffee shop, nearly a month later, his heart freezes and he doesn’t know what to say.
Ryeowook just blinks at him, then smiles the same inviting, adorable grin from the night they first met. Jongwoon’s surprised, he’d been sure Ryeowook would have been angry to see him. Instead, he slips his hand into Jongwoon’s and within the quarter-hour, Jongwoon finds himself back in his apartment, pressing Ryeowook into the cushions of his couch, bare skin sliding against bare skin, friction leaving red marks behind to match the red circles teethed into Ryeowook’s skin. He’s got Ryeowook on his back this time, legs hooked around his waist, and there is nothing slow or gentle about it. Ryeowook is clawing at the back of the sofa, leaving white trails in the leather from his nails. Neither of them last very long, the spontaneity of it all finishing them off quickly.
Afterwards, Jongwoon holds Ryeowook close to his chest until both of their breathing patterns have returned to normal. Ryeowook nods off, head pillowed on Jongwoon’s elbow and Jongwoon watches him sleep. He takes note of the dark bags beneath his eyes and the skin stretched over ribs, tighter than he remembers. When Ryeowook wakes, two hours later, Jongwoon places a kiss just under his eye and suggests dinner. Ryeowook blinks groggily up at him, swiping a lazy hand over the spot Jongwoon had just pecked, and agrees. While he’s cleaning up, Jongwoon fixes a couple sandwiches.
Ryeowook eats the sandwich like it’s the most food he’s seen in weeks, leaving no crumb behind.
“You eat like you’re starved,” he comments, offering the other half of his sandwich to Ryeowook.
Ryeowook shrugs and takes it, swallowing it down almost without chewing.
“I need to go,” he says, glancing at the clock. Jongwoon blinks in surprise and slowly remembers that Ryeowook works the nightshift. He pulls his coat on at the door and stares at Jongwoon expectantly. When Jongwoon doesn’t respond he says, “The same amount as last time is fine.”
It’s like he’s been hit by a ton of bricks, the thought of paying Ryeowook for what was undeniably chemistry. He says that he has no cash on him and Ryeowook assures him that a check is fine. Jongwoon has to hunt down his checkbook and stares at the paper for a minute, trying to remember exactly how he’s supposed to fill this out. When he goes to write Ryeowook’s name on the line, Ryeowook stops him and tells him another.
“Is Ryeowook just a fake name?” he asks, stunned.
“No. The check is made out to my boss though. I don’t have an account.” Ryeowook reaches for the check.
Jongwoon frowns and yanks the slip of paper away. “Do you see any of this money at all?”
Ryeowook’s smile falters, but he says, “Of course I do. Why else would I do this?”
It breaks Jongwoon’s heart to hand over the check, but he does anyway and walks Ryeowook to the door. Ryeowook leaves without so much as a glance back.
...
It’s another month before he sees Ryeowook again. He’s at a bar, one of the last people hanging around, when Ryeowook slides onto the stool beside him.
“What are you doing here?” Jongwoon asks, sipping at the last of his beer.
“Just got off a job,” Ryeowook shrugs, waving down the bartender. He pays for the drink and gulps half of it down. Jongwoon can’t help the jealousy burning in the pit of his stomach. The thought of anyone else touching Ryeowook, seeing him spread out before them, makes him see red. “I saw you over here and thought I’d say hello.”
“Was he any good?” The words trip off his tongue before he can stop them. He doesn’t dare raise his head and look at Ryeowook.
“Not the best,” Ryeowook says, not missing a beat. “He paid a lot, twice as much as you, but nowhere as good. I didn’t even get off.”
A dirty bubble of pride swells in Jongwoon’s chest and he raises his bottle to his lips again. After finishing off the drink he says, “Wanna come to my place? Bet I could get you off this time.”
Ryeowook tosses back the rest of his glass and gives a sly little smirk. “Whatever you want; you’re paying.”
“We’ll see,” Jongwoon teases.
...
They meet once every week or so for two months. Jongwoon can’t keep track of how many times he’s watched Ryeowook come undone, eyes hazy with pleasure, mouth gaping and lips shiny with Jongwoon’s saliva. He can’t describe the feeling in his chest when he hears Ryeowook moan his name, voice hoarse from screaming out in ecstasy, except that he thinks it might be love.
And then he can’t find Ryeowook anywhere. Not on the corner or the bar where they had taken to meeting up. He’s gone for almost a month before Ryeowook shows up on his doorstep at midnight. He’s got a black eye and a swollen lip and can barely walk straight. Jongwoon grabs him by the waist and helps him to his couch.
“What the hell happened?” he demands, brushing Ryeowook’s bangs, long grown out, away from his eyes.
“Customer got rough,” he says. “Can I stay here?”
“Sure, no problem,” Jongwoon consents, hurrying off to find an ice pack or frozen bag of peas. When he returns, Ryeowook is asleep, curled up on the armrest. He looks so thin and exhausted that Jongwoon can’t bare to wake him. He, instead, gathers Ryeowook in his arms and carries him to his bed. He strips him of his shoes and jeans, then tucks him under the blankets. Jongwoon sits by his head and holds the ice, softened by a towel, to his eye, then his lip, until the swelling goes down. He crawls under the covers with him and cradles his fragile body close, heart racing and mind spinning with every possible scenario that would drive Ryeowook to his door.
He doesn’t sleep much, jerking awake at every shift of Ryeowook’s body, until the sun peeks through the window and Ryeowook wakes. Jongwoon brushes a hand gently down Ryeowook’s side, letting him know he is also conscious.
“Can I use your shower?” he asks, sitting up gingerly.
“Do you want help? Can you walk alright?” Jongwoon helps him out of bed, even as Ryeowook declines the assistance, and walks him to the bathroom. He pulls the thin shirt over Ryeowook’s head and frowns at the bruises marring his body. Some are old and faded green. Jongwoon feels that anger pool in his gut, but he holds off until Ryeowook has showered and is sitting in his kitchen.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” he questions, leaning his cheek on his hand.
“What do you mean?” Ryeowook doesn’t meet his eye and continues spooning oatmeal into his mouth, bite after bite like it’s his last meal on Earth.
“It isn’t a customer, is it?” He reaches out and thumbs a bruise darkening Ryeowook’s wrist, a neat circle all the way around the tiny part of his arm.
“I can handle myself.” Ryeowook places his spoon down, eyes lowered.
“Clearly, you can’t, Ryeowook. You’re covered in bruises, you’re so thin you’re practically a skeleton!” Jongwoon exclaims, tugging on Ryeowook’s arm.
“What do you know?”
“Don’t start that again!” Jongwoon stands up and grabs Ryeowook’s chin, and forces him look up at him.
“It’s true!” Ryeowook shouts, jerking his chin away and standing up as well. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me, Jongwoon. You don’t even know my full name. All I am is a good fuck as long as you have a couple decimals in your bank account. Don’t get this twisted.”
“Look, Ryeowook,” Jongwoon tries again, taking Ryeowook’s hand and sitting. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt. Maybe you don’t invest as much into this as I do, but at least trust me enough to tell me who’s hurting you.”
Ryeowook sits as well, shoulders crumpling in as he deflates. “It’s my boss.”
“Your pimp?”
Ryeowook cringes. “We don’t call him that, but yeah. He says I haven’t been bringing enough in, and he’s been taking more out of my cut. He really hates that I’ve been seeing you so much, especially for so little.”
“Little? I’ve had to work overtime to make up what I paid you!” Jongwoon says, outraged.
“I told you, the other clients pay me double.”
“Why did you lower it then? If you knew you’d be in trouble?”
“If I made you pay full-price I thought you’d not want to see me,” he mumbles, looking down again.
“I’d give anything to see you. I love you,” Jongwoon blurts out. Ryeowook’s eyes widen and he stares at Jongwoon.
“You what?”
“I don’t know! I think you’re beautiful and I want to get to know the real you and you’re all I can ever think of and I don’t know. I think I love you.” Jongwoon feels his face heat up as the words tumble from his lips, unstoppable.
“You love me?”
“I think so,” he says lamely.
Ryeowook is quiet for a moment, then hides his face in his hands. He lets out a shuddering breath. “This is crazy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“When I’m with you,” Ryeowook says slowly. “It doesn’t feel like work. It isn’t the same as with anyone else. It’s nice. I like it. I actually enjoy it.”
“Because I care about you,” Jongwoon insists, praying he doesn’t scare Ryeowook off any further.
“Do I love you?” Ryeowook asks, voice so small and innocent that Jongwoon’s heart pangs in his chest.
“I can’t tell you that.”
Ryeowook nods silently. After a while, he stands and leaves the kitchen, leaves the apartment, and Jongwoon doesn’t follow.
...
It’s two months before he sees Ryeowook again. They run into each other on the street and Jongwoon offers a friendly smile. He tries to squash the budding hope in his chest because he’d spent the last two months convincing himself that Ryeowook was done with him.
What he doesn’t expect Ryeowook to say is, “I’ve quit. I had to borrow a lot of money from friends, and gave him all my earnings for a month, but I’m done now.”
“That’s great,” Jongwoon smiles, squeezing Ryeowook’s arm gently.
“I thought a lot about that morning,” Ryeowook goes on. “I don’t need you to tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“That I love you, too.”
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Wordcount: ~3200
Rating: R
Summary: Sequel to Red. Jongwoon can't get Ryeowook out of his head.
Notes: Unedited. I need sleep. For kellsung sorry its awful
Part of my 100 Word Challenge.
Jongwoon holds out three entire days.
The morning after, he’d woken to Ryeowook stumbling around his room, cursing under his breath while trying to locate his other sock. He sat up in bed, dug at his eyes with the heel of his hand and asked the boy what the hell he was doing banging around at seven in the morning. Ryeowook had just muttered something too quiet to hear and pulled the rest of his clothes together, swiping at the wrinkles. He took the money Jongwoon had pulled out the night before and was out the door before Jongwoon could wake up entirely.
Three days later, he pulls out of his driveway well past midnight and speeds off across town, hoping Ryeowook frequents the same corner. He almost gets lost twice and almost loses his nerve thrice before he sees the corner in the distance. Under the streetlamp are two figures, huddling close together near the pole. Jongwoon slows his car, creeping up to the light, hand poised to shift into high gear and bolt off if one of the figures is not the one he’s looking for. His foot presses down on the brake and he peers out the tinted glass. The two men turn toward car and eye it suspiciously. After a second, the taller of the two pushes the other forward and he stumbles to the curb. Jongwoon’s heart nearly stops when he recognizes Ryeowook.
He rolls the window down just a crack, just enough for Ryeowook’s eyes to look into the car.
“Jongwoon?” he asks quietly, eyebrows drawing up in nervousness.
“You free tonight?” Jongwoon questions, glancing back at the other man briefly. Ryeowook follows his eyes and draws his coat tighter around his shoulders.
“Yes.” Ryeowook reaches out and opens the door, sliding into the seat quickly and shutting the door with a snap. He locks the door and fumbles with the window, rolling it up. “Go. Drive.”
Jongwoon shifts gears and pulls away from the curb with a slight squeal of his tires, startled by Ryeowook’s sudden demand. Out the rearview mirror, he sees the other man standing right where his passenger door had been, glaring angrily at the car as it speeds away. He glances at Ryeowook as he falls into normal traffic and the small adrenaline rush leaves his veins.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to stay out there much longer, is all.” Ryeowook pulls the sleeves of his coat down over his hands and Jongwoon turns the heat up a little higher and turns his vent so it blows on Ryeowook. He doesn’t respond, just drives silently back to his apartment.
When they reach his flat, Jongwoon has almost no intention of sleeping with the kid. He can’t help but feel like something is terribly wrong, but he also was never very good at finding words. Instead of asking Ryeowook, he suggests he shower and shuts him in the bathroom, buying himself a few minute’s thinking time. The shower turns on and after a bit warm mist sneaks out between the floorboards and the door, suggesting very hot water. Jongwoon watches it eek out from where he’s plopped on the bed and rubs his temples.
By the time the water has stopped, too soon, in Jongwoon’s opinion, he’s no closer to deciding what to do than he was when the boy had first begun to scald himself. Instead, he was feeling something rather akin to self-loathing. Why couldn’t he get Ryeowook out of his mind? Why did he care so much about a skinny little prostitute he’d only met once before? He should have just agreed to let his colleagues set him up with someone, then his loneliness wouldn’t have gotten the best of him and he wouldn’t be in this situation at all.
A small hand touches his shoulder and he realizes a pair of bare feet have stopped in front of him. He jerks his head up and finds Ryeowook standing in front of him, not even a towel covering his body. Jongwoon gulps slightly at the slight and drags his eyes up to Ryeowook’s face. His hair is wet and plastered to his cheeks and his expression is unreadable.
“Are you ready?” he asks, pressing Jongwoon back onto the mattress and climbing above him. Jongwoon grabs his hips instinctively and thumbs along the red, overheated flesh. Ryeowook leans down and seals their lips in a kiss. He lies on top of Jongwoon, pressing his thigh flush against Jongwoon’s crotch, rolling his hips slightly.
“Wait,” Jongwoon gasps, feeling his resistance slipping. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“You’re paying, aren’t you?” is Ryeowook’s response, muffled against Jongwoon’s neck where he’s leaving open-mouthed kisses.
“That doesn’t matter. I want to know if you want this.”
Ryeowook pulls back and sits up, perched on Jongwoon’s clothed thighs. “What’s it matter?”
“Something’s not right about you. You seem upset, is all.” Jongwoon props himself up on his elbows.
“What do you know? All that matters is that you want to fuck me and I walk away with a bit more cash in my wallet. Don’t think for a second that you know me, got it?” Ryeowook hisses, face inches from Jongwoon’s, eyes narrowed challengingly.
Jongwoon nods silently, eyes wide and falls back onto the mattress. His worries are solved, he decides. Ryeowook clearly doesn’t think anything of their previous encounter other than an easy way to make some quick cash and he shouldn’t take it out of context. So when Ryeowook kisses him again, he shuts his brain off and kisses him right back, tongue sliding into Ryeowook’s mouth while his hands venture down his back, stopping when they are full with the soft flesh of Ryeowook’s ass.
The following minutes are rushed and blurred in Jongwoon’s memory: a hasty removal of clothing and an equally rushed foreplay, lube slopped on the sheets, and Ryeowook whimpering loudly against his mouth. His brain catches up with his body when he’s got Ryeowook on his knees and elbows, keening high in his throat into a pillow while he fucks him deep and slow from behind. His fingers are digging bruises into Ryeowook’s hips, but he can’t loosen his hold, can’t think of anything else but the way Ryeowook shudders beneath him everytime he pulls his hips back. He draws it out as long as he can stand and when he finishes, it’s with his chest pressed solidly against Ryeowook’s back, arms wound tightly around Ryeowook’s gripping the backs of his hands, lacing their fingers together. He drags one of Ryeowook’s hands down his own stomach, and helps him find his own climax, bodies still flush against one another.
He rolls to the side, unwinding his arms from Ryeowook. Ryeowook collapses, then, after a second, turns onto his side, away from Jongwoon, his sides still heaving. Jongwoon heaves himself up onto an elbow. A dark patch on the pillow catches his eye and he frowns. He reaches over and touches Ryeowook’s side, rolling him onto his back. Ryeowook’s eyes are red, but his face is dry.
He almost asks, are you okay, but the words catch in his throat as Ryeowook sits up. He climbs off the bed and staggers to the bathroom. Jongwoon lies back, arm still uselessly stretched out to the side. He has a strange lump in his throat, and when Ryeowook returns to the room, dressed in his jeans and coat, it slides down his esophagus and settles like a lead weight in his stomach.
“Pay up,” is all he says, dark bangs hiding his eyes. He sticks out his hand, waiting. Jongwoon pulls on a pair of sweatpants and digs through his sock drawer, where he’s kept the money he pulled out from the bank the morning after their first encounter. He hands over the wad of cash and sighs.
“Do you want to stay again? It’s cold tonight.”
“I’m used to it,” Ryeowook scoffs. He leaves the bedroom, heading for the front door, and Jongwoon trails behind him.
“D’you want me to drop you off somewhere?”
“No,” he growls, pulling on his shoes. Jongwoon watches from the middle of his living room, arms crossed loosely over his bare chest, the sheen of sweat still drying on tan skin. When Ryeowook straightens, he turns and looks Jongwoon in the eye. “Don’t come looking for me again, okay?”
With that, he’s out the door. Gone.
...
Jongwoon tries to forget Ryeowook, write him off as a strange encounter and a great fuck, but it’s easier said than done. At night, images of dark eyes and pink lips, protruding collarbones and pale thighs plague his mind. During the day, his attention is constantly captured by flashes of high cheekbones and thin wrists. He’s constantly on high-alert, searching for Ryeowook without seeking him out. But when he runs into him one afternoon outside a coffee shop, nearly a month later, his heart freezes and he doesn’t know what to say.
Ryeowook just blinks at him, then smiles the same inviting, adorable grin from the night they first met. Jongwoon’s surprised, he’d been sure Ryeowook would have been angry to see him. Instead, he slips his hand into Jongwoon’s and within the quarter-hour, Jongwoon finds himself back in his apartment, pressing Ryeowook into the cushions of his couch, bare skin sliding against bare skin, friction leaving red marks behind to match the red circles teethed into Ryeowook’s skin. He’s got Ryeowook on his back this time, legs hooked around his waist, and there is nothing slow or gentle about it. Ryeowook is clawing at the back of the sofa, leaving white trails in the leather from his nails. Neither of them last very long, the spontaneity of it all finishing them off quickly.
Afterwards, Jongwoon holds Ryeowook close to his chest until both of their breathing patterns have returned to normal. Ryeowook nods off, head pillowed on Jongwoon’s elbow and Jongwoon watches him sleep. He takes note of the dark bags beneath his eyes and the skin stretched over ribs, tighter than he remembers. When Ryeowook wakes, two hours later, Jongwoon places a kiss just under his eye and suggests dinner. Ryeowook blinks groggily up at him, swiping a lazy hand over the spot Jongwoon had just pecked, and agrees. While he’s cleaning up, Jongwoon fixes a couple sandwiches.
Ryeowook eats the sandwich like it’s the most food he’s seen in weeks, leaving no crumb behind.
“You eat like you’re starved,” he comments, offering the other half of his sandwich to Ryeowook.
Ryeowook shrugs and takes it, swallowing it down almost without chewing.
“I need to go,” he says, glancing at the clock. Jongwoon blinks in surprise and slowly remembers that Ryeowook works the nightshift. He pulls his coat on at the door and stares at Jongwoon expectantly. When Jongwoon doesn’t respond he says, “The same amount as last time is fine.”
It’s like he’s been hit by a ton of bricks, the thought of paying Ryeowook for what was undeniably chemistry. He says that he has no cash on him and Ryeowook assures him that a check is fine. Jongwoon has to hunt down his checkbook and stares at the paper for a minute, trying to remember exactly how he’s supposed to fill this out. When he goes to write Ryeowook’s name on the line, Ryeowook stops him and tells him another.
“Is Ryeowook just a fake name?” he asks, stunned.
“No. The check is made out to my boss though. I don’t have an account.” Ryeowook reaches for the check.
Jongwoon frowns and yanks the slip of paper away. “Do you see any of this money at all?”
Ryeowook’s smile falters, but he says, “Of course I do. Why else would I do this?”
It breaks Jongwoon’s heart to hand over the check, but he does anyway and walks Ryeowook to the door. Ryeowook leaves without so much as a glance back.
...
It’s another month before he sees Ryeowook again. He’s at a bar, one of the last people hanging around, when Ryeowook slides onto the stool beside him.
“What are you doing here?” Jongwoon asks, sipping at the last of his beer.
“Just got off a job,” Ryeowook shrugs, waving down the bartender. He pays for the drink and gulps half of it down. Jongwoon can’t help the jealousy burning in the pit of his stomach. The thought of anyone else touching Ryeowook, seeing him spread out before them, makes him see red. “I saw you over here and thought I’d say hello.”
“Was he any good?” The words trip off his tongue before he can stop them. He doesn’t dare raise his head and look at Ryeowook.
“Not the best,” Ryeowook says, not missing a beat. “He paid a lot, twice as much as you, but nowhere as good. I didn’t even get off.”
A dirty bubble of pride swells in Jongwoon’s chest and he raises his bottle to his lips again. After finishing off the drink he says, “Wanna come to my place? Bet I could get you off this time.”
Ryeowook tosses back the rest of his glass and gives a sly little smirk. “Whatever you want; you’re paying.”
“We’ll see,” Jongwoon teases.
...
They meet once every week or so for two months. Jongwoon can’t keep track of how many times he’s watched Ryeowook come undone, eyes hazy with pleasure, mouth gaping and lips shiny with Jongwoon’s saliva. He can’t describe the feeling in his chest when he hears Ryeowook moan his name, voice hoarse from screaming out in ecstasy, except that he thinks it might be love.
And then he can’t find Ryeowook anywhere. Not on the corner or the bar where they had taken to meeting up. He’s gone for almost a month before Ryeowook shows up on his doorstep at midnight. He’s got a black eye and a swollen lip and can barely walk straight. Jongwoon grabs him by the waist and helps him to his couch.
“What the hell happened?” he demands, brushing Ryeowook’s bangs, long grown out, away from his eyes.
“Customer got rough,” he says. “Can I stay here?”
“Sure, no problem,” Jongwoon consents, hurrying off to find an ice pack or frozen bag of peas. When he returns, Ryeowook is asleep, curled up on the armrest. He looks so thin and exhausted that Jongwoon can’t bare to wake him. He, instead, gathers Ryeowook in his arms and carries him to his bed. He strips him of his shoes and jeans, then tucks him under the blankets. Jongwoon sits by his head and holds the ice, softened by a towel, to his eye, then his lip, until the swelling goes down. He crawls under the covers with him and cradles his fragile body close, heart racing and mind spinning with every possible scenario that would drive Ryeowook to his door.
He doesn’t sleep much, jerking awake at every shift of Ryeowook’s body, until the sun peeks through the window and Ryeowook wakes. Jongwoon brushes a hand gently down Ryeowook’s side, letting him know he is also conscious.
“Can I use your shower?” he asks, sitting up gingerly.
“Do you want help? Can you walk alright?” Jongwoon helps him out of bed, even as Ryeowook declines the assistance, and walks him to the bathroom. He pulls the thin shirt over Ryeowook’s head and frowns at the bruises marring his body. Some are old and faded green. Jongwoon feels that anger pool in his gut, but he holds off until Ryeowook has showered and is sitting in his kitchen.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” he questions, leaning his cheek on his hand.
“What do you mean?” Ryeowook doesn’t meet his eye and continues spooning oatmeal into his mouth, bite after bite like it’s his last meal on Earth.
“It isn’t a customer, is it?” He reaches out and thumbs a bruise darkening Ryeowook’s wrist, a neat circle all the way around the tiny part of his arm.
“I can handle myself.” Ryeowook places his spoon down, eyes lowered.
“Clearly, you can’t, Ryeowook. You’re covered in bruises, you’re so thin you’re practically a skeleton!” Jongwoon exclaims, tugging on Ryeowook’s arm.
“What do you know?”
“Don’t start that again!” Jongwoon stands up and grabs Ryeowook’s chin, and forces him look up at him.
“It’s true!” Ryeowook shouts, jerking his chin away and standing up as well. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me, Jongwoon. You don’t even know my full name. All I am is a good fuck as long as you have a couple decimals in your bank account. Don’t get this twisted.”
“Look, Ryeowook,” Jongwoon tries again, taking Ryeowook’s hand and sitting. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt. Maybe you don’t invest as much into this as I do, but at least trust me enough to tell me who’s hurting you.”
Ryeowook sits as well, shoulders crumpling in as he deflates. “It’s my boss.”
“Your pimp?”
Ryeowook cringes. “We don’t call him that, but yeah. He says I haven’t been bringing enough in, and he’s been taking more out of my cut. He really hates that I’ve been seeing you so much, especially for so little.”
“Little? I’ve had to work overtime to make up what I paid you!” Jongwoon says, outraged.
“I told you, the other clients pay me double.”
“Why did you lower it then? If you knew you’d be in trouble?”
“If I made you pay full-price I thought you’d not want to see me,” he mumbles, looking down again.
“I’d give anything to see you. I love you,” Jongwoon blurts out. Ryeowook’s eyes widen and he stares at Jongwoon.
“You what?”
“I don’t know! I think you’re beautiful and I want to get to know the real you and you’re all I can ever think of and I don’t know. I think I love you.” Jongwoon feels his face heat up as the words tumble from his lips, unstoppable.
“You love me?”
“I think so,” he says lamely.
Ryeowook is quiet for a moment, then hides his face in his hands. He lets out a shuddering breath. “This is crazy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“When I’m with you,” Ryeowook says slowly. “It doesn’t feel like work. It isn’t the same as with anyone else. It’s nice. I like it. I actually enjoy it.”
“Because I care about you,” Jongwoon insists, praying he doesn’t scare Ryeowook off any further.
“Do I love you?” Ryeowook asks, voice so small and innocent that Jongwoon’s heart pangs in his chest.
“I can’t tell you that.”
Ryeowook nods silently. After a while, he stands and leaves the kitchen, leaves the apartment, and Jongwoon doesn’t follow.
...
It’s two months before he sees Ryeowook again. They run into each other on the street and Jongwoon offers a friendly smile. He tries to squash the budding hope in his chest because he’d spent the last two months convincing himself that Ryeowook was done with him.
What he doesn’t expect Ryeowook to say is, “I’ve quit. I had to borrow a lot of money from friends, and gave him all my earnings for a month, but I’m done now.”
“That’s great,” Jongwoon smiles, squeezing Ryeowook’s arm gently.
“I thought a lot about that morning,” Ryeowook goes on. “I don’t need you to tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“That I love you, too.”