Midnight and Dawn (9/13)
Title: Midnight and Dawn
Authors: e and hopeandmemory
Rating: NC-17 (for sex and violence)
Overall Word Count: 36283
Warnings: Whatever you'd reasonably expect to see on western television in a crime drama will be found in this fic. If you are easily triggered by material referenced (but rarely explicitly shown) in these kinds of programs, you might want to tread carefully.
Summary: In 2006, Kim Heechul put Kim Youngwoon behind bars. He became a legend almost immediately--the guy who watched Star King instead of doing work, drank more than his fair share of the shitty office coffee, and managed to drive off every partner he'd ever been assigned. And then in 2009, Kim Jungmo joins the force, a new case leaves Special Ops Department 1315 grasping helplessly at straws, and everything changes. Heechul/Jungmo
IX.
Thursday and Friday pass in a haze of analysis. Jungmo splits his time between staring through telescopes and curtains, marking down guard patterns for Heechul to review, and reviewing the pages of data Kyuhyun’s setup has been generating. He blanches when he hears Heechul’s sharp voice echo over the transmitter, requesting data and e-mails and responses. Heechul sounds less exhausted, but far more irritable. Even Sungmin sighs and turns down the volume after a while.
“We hear you fine, no need to scream.”
“I am not screaming,” Heechul shrieks.
Sungmin rolls his eyes. “Right. Well, we’ll get those observations to you as soon as we can. Maybe you can go do something else, like bother Jongwoon. Or someone actually in the office with you.”
“Jongwoon! He owes me that paper on his fucking chaff grenades! Sungmin--I’ll call in later. Must go terrorize the living hell out of him.”
“Someone’s on his period,” Sungmin says irritably. “Well. Hopefully that’ll distract him for a few hours.”
Jungmo flinches. “Yeah. Hopefully.”
--
When Friday evening finally rolls around, Jungmo bows out of the cellar almost apologetically.
“You deserve a break,” Sungmin says, waving him off. “Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be fine--I’m just on for another twenty hours, and then Siwon will replace me.”
Jongwoon gives him a thumbs-up. “You’ve worked hard. Let the old-timers handle things now.”
“I am not old,” Sungmin sniffs. Jungmo grins and walks to the corner of the street where he’s parked Heechul’s car, shivering. It’s almost December, and he should really start remembering to bring a jacket with him.
The traffic in Seoul holds him up, so it’s nearly an hour later when he pulls up outside of Heechul’s apartment building. He stays in the car long enough to change out of his black button-down, switching to a thick long-sleeved shirt, and runs up to Heechul’s apartment, a box of chocolates tucked under his arm. He knocks and sifts a hand through his hair nervously.
Heehee answers the door in a soft grey pullover. It almost reaches her knees, and there’s a bit of white fluff sticking out at the bottom, clinging to her black tights. There’s that same pink ribbon in the back of her hair, and the fingers that stick out from underneath the long grey sleeves are adorned with her rings. Jungmo flushes.
“I brought you something.”
“Come in, Jungmo.”
He toes off his shoes and pads past the hallway where he slowly ground against Heechul, feeling puffs of air against his neck as Heechul leaned in, rubbing and moaning and living room where he’d carried Heechul over to the television, feeling the curve of Heechul’s ass and watching him sink bonelessly into the couch into the kitchen.
“Coffee?”
“No thanks--I’m wired enough as it is. I’ll take a tea?”
She smiles and busies herself with cups and saucers and some biscotti from the cabinet. “Thanks for the chocolates--I’ll be sure to hide them from him.”
“He’d throw them out. He’s always on a diet.” Jungmo suddenly realizes how weird this conversation has become and clears his throat awkwardly. “So. Uhm. What were you up to Wednesday night?”
“Shopping. He’s gotten rid of most of my favorite things. Lucky for me he keeps cash in his wallet. I don’t know any of his bank codes.”
She serves him the hot drink and pours one for herself before sitting down. “Has it been a busy week at the precinct?”
“You know where Hee--he works?”
She shrugs. The movement exposes some of her collarbone and Jungmo shivers with want. “Jay told me. I knew they were undercover. I had to know--I was the one who was spending so much time around Youngwoon.”
“So you helped capture him?” Her lips are sticky and leave marks on the rim of her cup. Jungmo balls a hand under the table. Think about Siwon and the Bible and Kyuhyun and Starcraft and cats.
“I wouldn’t say that. I wasn’t particularly on their side. That isn’t to say I was helping Youngwoon either, though. I was just being me.” She taps delicately at the table and her rings clink together. “Most of the time he was very nice to me. Much nicer than Jay, really.”
“Right. Well,” Jungmo laughs nervously. “It’s just been a busy week. That’s all.”
“You know, I’m glad you asked--is something going on? I haven’t been around for about three years, I’ve noticed. I didn’t think he’d be able to get rid of me for so long, but I think I’ve got it all backwards. I think he did get rid of me, but somehow he’s managed to lose that control.” She taps at the table again. Her fingernails are back to pink.
Well isn’t she a smart one, Jungmo thinks. Just like Heechul. Both of them, fucking lunatics.
Heehee watches him carefully, finger curling in her hair. “He’s out of jail, isn’t he?”
Jungmo drops the teacup. It rolls across the table, spilling dark tea all over the wood before he can manage to right it. “Oh fu--I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
She waves him off. “I’ll get a napkin. But I’m right, aren’t I? And you’re on stakeout across the street.”
“I really can’t--”
“Oh Jungmo, I’m the one dating you. He hasn’t texted you once in over a week. Or called. I checked the logs.” She mops up the spill and trashes the waterlogged napkin before returning to the table. His side of the table. Jungmo swallows. “Tell me?”
And she bends over slightly. He can see down her shirt, the curve of her neck, the straps of her bra, and suddenly his hands are on her shoulders, pulling her down into his lap, kissing her as she straddles him. He runs fingers through her hair and stops at the bow.
“Don’t take it off,” she says softly. Her voice shakes, and he kisses her roughly.
“I’m sorry,” he says even as he rocks up into her. “Is this--do I need to go slowly? Are you okay with this?”
“I’m nervous,” she admits. “But I--I can imagine how much you want this.”
Jungmo wants to deny it, but he’s rutting into her, hands digging into her waist as he tries to get more friction--more anything around her cock. “Right,” he says, “but I can stop. If you, uhm, need me to.”
She kisses him again, and her lips taste like cherries. They leave a film of stickiness around the edges of his mouth and he presses even harder against her, licking and sucking at her bottom lip desperately. His fingers trail down her spine, pausing at the bottom of her dress. He slides it up, over her hips, and rubs circles into her back. She shivers.
“Do you also like me,” he whispers into her ear.
Her fingers dig into his sides as she nods, and Jungmo licks softly at the shell of her earlobe. Exactly where Heechul likes it. He bites down and she trembles, almost going to pieces in his arms. It’s one of the sexiest things Jungmo’s ever felt. He repeats the action.
“More,” she whispers. “That feels amazing. Can you--”
“It gets better.” Jungmo tries to forget Heechul’s mouth around the head of his cock and focus on Heehee’s hips grinding against it. The juxtaposition of images is frighteningly intense. “I’m going to suck you off.”
She freezes underneath him. “Jungmo. Jungmo forget him. Not with me. I’m a girl, Jungmo, you can’t.” Her voice is shrill and he rubs at her back softly to calm her.
“I won’t, I won’t.” Jungmo continues to nibble at the lobe of her ear and slowly pulls her grey sweater-dress up, past her shoulders, and above her head. She lets him.
He mouths at her neck, thumbing at the straps of her bra, leaving sharp bruises down her collarbone, and over her shoulders while she moans, carding her hands through his hair, and tracing the contours of his muscles. She slips her hands underneath his shirt, and the cool rings leave his nipples pebble-hard. He gasps desperately when she gently scrapes her nails over them.
“Bedroom,” he finally manages. “Can we--I need to--Heehee,” and she’s back to kissing him, leaving sticky marks down his neck and sucking deeply into his skin. “Fuck, I need to--”
“I know,” she says softly. “I can feel you.”
He’s not sure how he manages to slide her off his knee and pull her into Heechul’s bedroom, but he notices that the air smells softer, much like the floral perfume she’s sprayed into the crooks of her wrists and behind her ears. Her tights are bulging--she’s also rock hard--but she swipes away at his hand when he moves towards it.
“No,” she reminds him. “Not there.”
So he touches her everywhere else, pushing her down on the bed and sliding her out of her tights. “Did you buy these just to take them off,” he says softly. He’s starting to dissociate, he realizes, when she squirms beneath him. He sees Heehee, not Heechul. Even without the dress, even without the tights. He tugs at her panties softly.
“Take these off. I want you completely naked.” The phrase rolls off his tongue, and feels delightfully dirty. “Your tights must have been so uncomfortable. Restricting.”
She quivers and pulls the silky fabric down, undoing the clasp of her bra as well. Jungmo reaches across her to grab at the lube in Heechul’s top cabinet, and hisses delightfully when she starts undoing his pants, returning the favor.
When they’re both naked, and he’s palmed a condom, he turns her over and starts rubbing at the inside of her thighs. “Are you ready. Is--”
“There?” She’s panting. “I’m clean.”
He uncaps the bottle of lube and slicks it over his hand, warming it between his fingers. “Don’t tense.”
“Yes,” and it comes out as a hiss when he carefully manages to rub a finger up against the ring of muscle, dripping dollops of lube down her ass. He edges a finger in carefully and she stiffens.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “That’s one. We’ll get you up to three. You’re doing so well.” He slides in carefully, massaging the ripples and bands of muscles and slowly twisting his finger in. She spread her legs and he feels her contract over him. He pushes against the walls carefully until she loosens and slicks up another finger.
When both are inside, and she’s loosened up a fair bit, he allows the pads of his finger to inch forward and back until the second knuckle disappears inside of her. Suddenly she shudders and whines, bucking into him.
There, Jungmo thinks, and skims it again. She breathes in shakily and Jungmo slides another finger inside, looking at the sweaty, writhing body beneath him. Even from this angle he can tell it’s Heehee--the curve of her shoulders, the deep bruises on her neck, the ways she mewls softly, scrabbling in the bedclothes. .
Heechul will notice, he thinks, stomach sinking. He’ll know that I fucked her. He starts thrusting his fingers in and out more rapidly, hoping that concentration will obliterate the thought .
Heehee moans again, crying out his name and he loses it. He opens the condom, rolls it carefully onto his cock, and covers himself in lube. She whines softly, and he brushes the head against her.
“Back up. You’ve been so good. Just tilt backwards.” And she does, and he slips into her, feeling her tighten around him and the skin pull around his cock. His eyes roll backwards. She’s tight and moving sexily against him, muscles rippling.
“Relax.”
“I’m scared.”
Jungmo runs a hand down her side soothingly. “It’s me. It’s just me. I’m just going to move. You’ve been so amazing, girl. Three entire fingers.”
He feels he come undone around him and he’s able to start moving, sliding up against her prostate, leaving her shivering and clutching helplessly at the pillows and sheets. She’s fine, Jungmo thinks, and thrusts in more rapidly. Her head thumps against the headboard.
Jungmo gets faster. He can’t quite time his thrusts--every muscle in his body focused on the singular objective of getting his cock to rub deeply into her, around the hot skin slowly contracting and pulling the skin of his cock back from the head when he thrusts in, and then slicking it back on the downstroke. He shudders, bites his lip, and tries to stop himself from coming.
Her head thumps against the headboard again, and small fingers grab at it. Small pink spotted fingers.
Jungmo comes.
He pulls out of her, watching her rut helplessly against the bedspread, and then stiffen, toes curling.
She came, he thinks, amazed. His head is fuzzy and his arms tingle from the languid aftershock of orgasm, but he’s amazed by how she turns over, cock sticky, eyes wide.
“That was amazing.” She flushes and curls up against him, tugging him down to lie next to her. Discomfort pricks at him.
“Shouldn’t I go,” he asks after a moment. “In case he comes back?”
She smiles lazily. “Is this our little secret?”
“You’ll be a bit uncomfortable for a day. He’ll know.”
“And the bruising,” she whispers. “He’ll know you slept with me, Jungmo. He’ll know you want me.”
Jungmo does. That’s sort of the problem, he thinks wistfully. He wants Heehee in her tights and dresses and silk panties which don’t do nearly enough to cover the entirety of her cock and balls, the way she calls him Jungmo and moans breathily around him, but he wants Heechul’s anger, his vigour, the shameless way he rubbed against Jungmo in the hallway and his unyielding egoism and confidence.
“Do you need help cleaning up?”
“Down there?” She shudders. “I’ll be fine. You should go, though. You have a full day ahead of you tomorrow, don’t you?”
He shrugs and wishes she didn’t know so goddamned much. Unease settles in the pit of his stomach.
“I’m glad you trust me, Jungmo. I’ll text you again when I can.”
A thrill runs down his spine. Again.
“Yeah,” he manages, gathering up his clothes and kissing her again, running a hand through her fluffy hair. She waves coquettishly at him as he walks out of the house and into Heechul’s car. He can’t decide if he wants her or Heechul or the both of them together, fucking one and sucking the other off. Her voice is soft and his is low and rough and he told Jungmo not to say anything but she knows and she’s him, sort of, and he’s gay.
His head spins. Home, he thinks desperately.
→ X
Authors: e and hopeandmemory
Rating: NC-17 (for sex and violence)
Overall Word Count: 36283
Warnings: Whatever you'd reasonably expect to see on western television in a crime drama will be found in this fic. If you are easily triggered by material referenced (but rarely explicitly shown) in these kinds of programs, you might want to tread carefully.
Summary: In 2006, Kim Heechul put Kim Youngwoon behind bars. He became a legend almost immediately--the guy who watched Star King instead of doing work, drank more than his fair share of the shitty office coffee, and managed to drive off every partner he'd ever been assigned. And then in 2009, Kim Jungmo joins the force, a new case leaves Special Ops Department 1315 grasping helplessly at straws, and everything changes. Heechul/Jungmo
IX.
Thursday and Friday pass in a haze of analysis. Jungmo splits his time between staring through telescopes and curtains, marking down guard patterns for Heechul to review, and reviewing the pages of data Kyuhyun’s setup has been generating. He blanches when he hears Heechul’s sharp voice echo over the transmitter, requesting data and e-mails and responses. Heechul sounds less exhausted, but far more irritable. Even Sungmin sighs and turns down the volume after a while.
“We hear you fine, no need to scream.”
“I am not screaming,” Heechul shrieks.
Sungmin rolls his eyes. “Right. Well, we’ll get those observations to you as soon as we can. Maybe you can go do something else, like bother Jongwoon. Or someone actually in the office with you.”
“Jongwoon! He owes me that paper on his fucking chaff grenades! Sungmin--I’ll call in later. Must go terrorize the living hell out of him.”
“Someone’s on his period,” Sungmin says irritably. “Well. Hopefully that’ll distract him for a few hours.”
Jungmo flinches. “Yeah. Hopefully.”
--
When Friday evening finally rolls around, Jungmo bows out of the cellar almost apologetically.
“You deserve a break,” Sungmin says, waving him off. “Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be fine--I’m just on for another twenty hours, and then Siwon will replace me.”
Jongwoon gives him a thumbs-up. “You’ve worked hard. Let the old-timers handle things now.”
“I am not old,” Sungmin sniffs. Jungmo grins and walks to the corner of the street where he’s parked Heechul’s car, shivering. It’s almost December, and he should really start remembering to bring a jacket with him.
The traffic in Seoul holds him up, so it’s nearly an hour later when he pulls up outside of Heechul’s apartment building. He stays in the car long enough to change out of his black button-down, switching to a thick long-sleeved shirt, and runs up to Heechul’s apartment, a box of chocolates tucked under his arm. He knocks and sifts a hand through his hair nervously.
Heehee answers the door in a soft grey pullover. It almost reaches her knees, and there’s a bit of white fluff sticking out at the bottom, clinging to her black tights. There’s that same pink ribbon in the back of her hair, and the fingers that stick out from underneath the long grey sleeves are adorned with her rings. Jungmo flushes.
“I brought you something.”
“Come in, Jungmo.”
He toes off his shoes and pads past the hallway where he slowly ground against Heechul, feeling puffs of air against his neck as Heechul leaned in, rubbing and moaning and living room where he’d carried Heechul over to the television, feeling the curve of Heechul’s ass and watching him sink bonelessly into the couch into the kitchen.
“Coffee?”
“No thanks--I’m wired enough as it is. I’ll take a tea?”
She smiles and busies herself with cups and saucers and some biscotti from the cabinet. “Thanks for the chocolates--I’ll be sure to hide them from him.”
“He’d throw them out. He’s always on a diet.” Jungmo suddenly realizes how weird this conversation has become and clears his throat awkwardly. “So. Uhm. What were you up to Wednesday night?”
“Shopping. He’s gotten rid of most of my favorite things. Lucky for me he keeps cash in his wallet. I don’t know any of his bank codes.”
She serves him the hot drink and pours one for herself before sitting down. “Has it been a busy week at the precinct?”
“You know where Hee--he works?”
She shrugs. The movement exposes some of her collarbone and Jungmo shivers with want. “Jay told me. I knew they were undercover. I had to know--I was the one who was spending so much time around Youngwoon.”
“So you helped capture him?” Her lips are sticky and leave marks on the rim of her cup. Jungmo balls a hand under the table. Think about Siwon and the Bible and Kyuhyun and Starcraft and cats.
“I wouldn’t say that. I wasn’t particularly on their side. That isn’t to say I was helping Youngwoon either, though. I was just being me.” She taps delicately at the table and her rings clink together. “Most of the time he was very nice to me. Much nicer than Jay, really.”
“Right. Well,” Jungmo laughs nervously. “It’s just been a busy week. That’s all.”
“You know, I’m glad you asked--is something going on? I haven’t been around for about three years, I’ve noticed. I didn’t think he’d be able to get rid of me for so long, but I think I’ve got it all backwards. I think he did get rid of me, but somehow he’s managed to lose that control.” She taps at the table again. Her fingernails are back to pink.
Well isn’t she a smart one, Jungmo thinks. Just like Heechul. Both of them, fucking lunatics.
Heehee watches him carefully, finger curling in her hair. “He’s out of jail, isn’t he?”
Jungmo drops the teacup. It rolls across the table, spilling dark tea all over the wood before he can manage to right it. “Oh fu--I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
She waves him off. “I’ll get a napkin. But I’m right, aren’t I? And you’re on stakeout across the street.”
“I really can’t--”
“Oh Jungmo, I’m the one dating you. He hasn’t texted you once in over a week. Or called. I checked the logs.” She mops up the spill and trashes the waterlogged napkin before returning to the table. His side of the table. Jungmo swallows. “Tell me?”
And she bends over slightly. He can see down her shirt, the curve of her neck, the straps of her bra, and suddenly his hands are on her shoulders, pulling her down into his lap, kissing her as she straddles him. He runs fingers through her hair and stops at the bow.
“Don’t take it off,” she says softly. Her voice shakes, and he kisses her roughly.
“I’m sorry,” he says even as he rocks up into her. “Is this--do I need to go slowly? Are you okay with this?”
“I’m nervous,” she admits. “But I--I can imagine how much you want this.”
Jungmo wants to deny it, but he’s rutting into her, hands digging into her waist as he tries to get more friction--more anything around her cock. “Right,” he says, “but I can stop. If you, uhm, need me to.”
She kisses him again, and her lips taste like cherries. They leave a film of stickiness around the edges of his mouth and he presses even harder against her, licking and sucking at her bottom lip desperately. His fingers trail down her spine, pausing at the bottom of her dress. He slides it up, over her hips, and rubs circles into her back. She shivers.
“Do you also like me,” he whispers into her ear.
Her fingers dig into his sides as she nods, and Jungmo licks softly at the shell of her earlobe. Exactly where Heechul likes it. He bites down and she trembles, almost going to pieces in his arms. It’s one of the sexiest things Jungmo’s ever felt. He repeats the action.
“More,” she whispers. “That feels amazing. Can you--”
“It gets better.” Jungmo tries to forget Heechul’s mouth around the head of his cock and focus on Heehee’s hips grinding against it. The juxtaposition of images is frighteningly intense. “I’m going to suck you off.”
She freezes underneath him. “Jungmo. Jungmo forget him. Not with me. I’m a girl, Jungmo, you can’t.” Her voice is shrill and he rubs at her back softly to calm her.
“I won’t, I won’t.” Jungmo continues to nibble at the lobe of her ear and slowly pulls her grey sweater-dress up, past her shoulders, and above her head. She lets him.
He mouths at her neck, thumbing at the straps of her bra, leaving sharp bruises down her collarbone, and over her shoulders while she moans, carding her hands through his hair, and tracing the contours of his muscles. She slips her hands underneath his shirt, and the cool rings leave his nipples pebble-hard. He gasps desperately when she gently scrapes her nails over them.
“Bedroom,” he finally manages. “Can we--I need to--Heehee,” and she’s back to kissing him, leaving sticky marks down his neck and sucking deeply into his skin. “Fuck, I need to--”
“I know,” she says softly. “I can feel you.”
He’s not sure how he manages to slide her off his knee and pull her into Heechul’s bedroom, but he notices that the air smells softer, much like the floral perfume she’s sprayed into the crooks of her wrists and behind her ears. Her tights are bulging--she’s also rock hard--but she swipes away at his hand when he moves towards it.
“No,” she reminds him. “Not there.”
So he touches her everywhere else, pushing her down on the bed and sliding her out of her tights. “Did you buy these just to take them off,” he says softly. He’s starting to dissociate, he realizes, when she squirms beneath him. He sees Heehee, not Heechul. Even without the dress, even without the tights. He tugs at her panties softly.
“Take these off. I want you completely naked.” The phrase rolls off his tongue, and feels delightfully dirty. “Your tights must have been so uncomfortable. Restricting.”
She quivers and pulls the silky fabric down, undoing the clasp of her bra as well. Jungmo reaches across her to grab at the lube in Heechul’s top cabinet, and hisses delightfully when she starts undoing his pants, returning the favor.
When they’re both naked, and he’s palmed a condom, he turns her over and starts rubbing at the inside of her thighs. “Are you ready. Is--”
“There?” She’s panting. “I’m clean.”
He uncaps the bottle of lube and slicks it over his hand, warming it between his fingers. “Don’t tense.”
“Yes,” and it comes out as a hiss when he carefully manages to rub a finger up against the ring of muscle, dripping dollops of lube down her ass. He edges a finger in carefully and she stiffens.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “That’s one. We’ll get you up to three. You’re doing so well.” He slides in carefully, massaging the ripples and bands of muscles and slowly twisting his finger in. She spread her legs and he feels her contract over him. He pushes against the walls carefully until she loosens and slicks up another finger.
When both are inside, and she’s loosened up a fair bit, he allows the pads of his finger to inch forward and back until the second knuckle disappears inside of her. Suddenly she shudders and whines, bucking into him.
There, Jungmo thinks, and skims it again. She breathes in shakily and Jungmo slides another finger inside, looking at the sweaty, writhing body beneath him. Even from this angle he can tell it’s Heehee--the curve of her shoulders, the deep bruises on her neck, the ways she mewls softly, scrabbling in the bedclothes. .
Heechul will notice, he thinks, stomach sinking. He’ll know that I fucked her. He starts thrusting his fingers in and out more rapidly, hoping that concentration will obliterate the thought .
Heehee moans again, crying out his name and he loses it. He opens the condom, rolls it carefully onto his cock, and covers himself in lube. She whines softly, and he brushes the head against her.
“Back up. You’ve been so good. Just tilt backwards.” And she does, and he slips into her, feeling her tighten around him and the skin pull around his cock. His eyes roll backwards. She’s tight and moving sexily against him, muscles rippling.
“Relax.”
“I’m scared.”
Jungmo runs a hand down her side soothingly. “It’s me. It’s just me. I’m just going to move. You’ve been so amazing, girl. Three entire fingers.”
He feels he come undone around him and he’s able to start moving, sliding up against her prostate, leaving her shivering and clutching helplessly at the pillows and sheets. She’s fine, Jungmo thinks, and thrusts in more rapidly. Her head thumps against the headboard.
Jungmo gets faster. He can’t quite time his thrusts--every muscle in his body focused on the singular objective of getting his cock to rub deeply into her, around the hot skin slowly contracting and pulling the skin of his cock back from the head when he thrusts in, and then slicking it back on the downstroke. He shudders, bites his lip, and tries to stop himself from coming.
Her head thumps against the headboard again, and small fingers grab at it. Small pink spotted fingers.
Jungmo comes.
He pulls out of her, watching her rut helplessly against the bedspread, and then stiffen, toes curling.
She came, he thinks, amazed. His head is fuzzy and his arms tingle from the languid aftershock of orgasm, but he’s amazed by how she turns over, cock sticky, eyes wide.
“That was amazing.” She flushes and curls up against him, tugging him down to lie next to her. Discomfort pricks at him.
“Shouldn’t I go,” he asks after a moment. “In case he comes back?”
She smiles lazily. “Is this our little secret?”
“You’ll be a bit uncomfortable for a day. He’ll know.”
“And the bruising,” she whispers. “He’ll know you slept with me, Jungmo. He’ll know you want me.”
Jungmo does. That’s sort of the problem, he thinks wistfully. He wants Heehee in her tights and dresses and silk panties which don’t do nearly enough to cover the entirety of her cock and balls, the way she calls him Jungmo and moans breathily around him, but he wants Heechul’s anger, his vigour, the shameless way he rubbed against Jungmo in the hallway and his unyielding egoism and confidence.
“Do you need help cleaning up?”
“Down there?” She shudders. “I’ll be fine. You should go, though. You have a full day ahead of you tomorrow, don’t you?”
He shrugs and wishes she didn’t know so goddamned much. Unease settles in the pit of his stomach.
“I’m glad you trust me, Jungmo. I’ll text you again when I can.”
A thrill runs down his spine. Again.
“Yeah,” he manages, gathering up his clothes and kissing her again, running a hand through her fluffy hair. She waves coquettishly at him as he walks out of the house and into Heechul’s car. He can’t decide if he wants her or Heechul or the both of them together, fucking one and sucking the other off. Her voice is soft and his is low and rough and he told Jungmo not to say anything but she knows and she’s him, sort of, and he’s gay.
His head spins. Home, he thinks desperately.
→ X