void-after-hours

[void-after-hours]

𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐋 🐾

wc: 3,440 pairing: Bongju (34) x Fang/Dae (38), m x f, subordinate x superior song: Maraschino Love by EZI cw:  heavy angst, violence (istg its kinda comical at some point haha), melodrama, talk of accidental pregnancy, pinch of choking, wrestling & fucking, raw dogging obv, kinda psychoanalysis mid-fucking because it’s Bongju and a very upset one at that, mostly just a vibe piece, bordering on AU territory

It shouldn’t have happened.

It shouldn’t.

It could not.

Bongju slapped his hollowed-out cigarette holder shut, shoving it back into his jacket pocket. The first drop of cold rain dripped at his forehead the moment he lit his very last smoke.

Summer suffocated Grohan with a cruel promise of thick humidity as a slow pitter-patter began on the blistering asphalt. People hurried inside and under every nearby cover as if a little rain would singe their skin off their bones.

Bongju scoffed at them, staring at the rushing figures. Watching them from behind, it looked as if they were running from him and his fast, agitated stride, doing everything in their power so he wouldn’t fulfil the chase.

He inhaled his smoke deep. Then again. And again, until nothing but the piercing sourness of burnt tar and the hot smog of the city filled his lungs. His well-groomed hair melted against his skull, drenching alongside his clothes.

It could not happen. Not to him.

His cigarette’s filter cracked between his fingers. It didn’t tear through the paper, but there was a faint pull in it to droop forward. Bongju worked his jaw. He secured it so he could keep smoking before it would completely die away from the rain.

It could not happen. Not now, not ever. How could it? He always made sure. It would have been so much easier if he could have blamed Sana. If he didn’t know her. If he didn’t know she left behind the life of deceit long ago. If he, too, hadn’t been standing under the stinging medical light when the doc declared the results.

If, if, if.

A sudden little pain plunged into Bongju’s side as he stumbled, grunting. He snapped his head back to see the kid who ran into him sprawl out on the wet walkway. Cold water splashed at his legs, bone knocking against concrete before him. The boy slowly rolled to his back with a whimper. He couldn’t have been more than seven. Bongju’s cigarette lay beside him as he cradled up his scraped, bleeding knee, lips turning downward, and the first sob bubbling up.

Bongju stood there for a heartbeat, watching his last cigarette flame out.

Then, he turned on his heels, charging past a visibly worried man who jogged towards the little boy with an umbrella abandoned in his hand. Bongju didn’t look back. He crossed the street and took a turn, mind racing.

The boy began crying far behind him.

Bongju sped his steps up.

He was always careful. He paid attention. He knew many in the clan did whatever they wanted, leaving behind cubs left and right. Most took care of them, some didn’t. Yet, it didn’t make them less wary to try and avoid it the next time. One or two accidental kids didn’t mean much in his line of work.

But it did to him.

The rain-kissed tears on the boy’s face glimmered in Bongju’s memory.

He always made sure to take care of his late-night lovers in the weeks to come. Always. He established with everyone that he was not there to stay, only to be absolutely sure.

And they understood.

So why couldn’t Sana?

Bongju shivered when a weak breeze slipped through the city, clothes weighing down his body with every new drop absorbed into fabric. The familiar apartment complex finally came into view as day dipped into a deep grey night on the horizon. The street lamps slowly blinked alive.

Bongju could swear he still heard the boy’s crying a couple of streets away.

He entered the old building, counting his steps up the stairway fast.

They were on the same page in the beginning. It shouldn’t have changed. Why couldn’t she understand now? He was a clan member. He was an outlaw. He was so many things that shouldn’t have had any contact with the likes of Sana. A civilian. A woman with a desire for a family. Someone who, after all, wanted a life with him. With a man who was a liar, a cheater, a murderer and one who had no heart for her. What would be the point of that?

At thirty-four, he was still not cut out to be a father. Never would be. Especially not to a kid outside the clan. He knew that much. So why?

For all the Hells in the pit of the earth, Deura, why?

Bongju stopped at the door, panting faintly. He wasn’t truly tired, yet his muscles felt sore and rigid. He fished out his homemade, bent and twisted paperclips. Then got to work.

He slid them into the lock, hands moving with precision and experience. In a few quiet clinks, the door exhaled open.

Bongju let himself inside Dae’s apartment.

He clicked the door shut, drinking in the slightly stale air. The heat and the barely perceptible steam that rolled out of the occupied bathroom made it stuffy, yet he didn’t mind it. The rushing water beyond the door and the soft knocking of the apathetic rain on the window made up the only sounds in the apartment. Everything faintly smelled just like her. The dim light gave him too much space to think, so he snatched the fridge open and helped himself to a beer.

This was the only place he could go.

Shen was away fuck knows where. Inseo nursed her third in the newly acquired seat as the Prime, while Gyeong constantly taught his seven-year-old. They were living that life. Bongju could not go to them. He would not, even if they had made time for him.

There was only one place and one person.

He downed half of the bottle when the bathroom door opened.

Steam thumbled out of the small, tiled space as Dae dried her wet hair with a towel. She stopped as she noticed Bongju still standing beside the fridge. She lazily glanced at the front door, then back at him. Her skin was a hot pink under the towel, which, though barely but covered her damp torso.

Bongju took another big sip before he extended the beer to her.

Dae watched him for a moment. Then, she draped the smaller fabric around her neck and accepted the bottle. She leaned against the kitchen counter beside him as she drank.

“You’re gonna clean that up,” she said, nodding to the floor where rainwater dripped under Bongju.

He hummed in agreement.

“What would you do if you had a kid?”

Dae’s brow twitched in interest as she took another sip.

“Report to the newspaper. Or a Recorder of Miracles in the temple.”

Bongju would have snorted at that if he had any scrap of humour left in him. Instead, he remained silent.

Why could she never do hypothetical?

A moment passed. The rain poured outside. The dark persisted.

“Did you take care of it?” Dae asked and finished the bottle.

Bongju’s hand curled over the countertop tightly.

“Not yet.“

“What are you waiting for, then?”

“Can’t you be less of a brute for one fucking second?” Bongju snapped, forcing his gaze to meet hers.

Dae scoffed, unfazed. “Do I look like your Ma to coddle you? You knew well how it could go when you went civil. She wants to keep it, doesn’t she? Well, she has every right to. It’s her choice on that front. The rest is up to you. You saw how it goes, so there’s no reason to stretch it out.” She took out another beer and opened it. Her gaze flicked back to him. “Glare all you want. You came here to fuck away your problem, but you can piss off if you want to moan about the expected before that.”

He pursed his lips as he contained the searing anger inside. Dae had no place to be pissed.

“Expected, hm? How was that expected? Don’t you tell me you suddenly believe some things are bound to happen. They are not. It happened by chance. It was a mistake, but I’m not going to send them who knows where just to get away easy and clean.”

“Then what, are you gonna raise it?” Bongju remained silent, so Dae nodded. “That’s what I thought. You’re not gonna leave just because she insists upon a kid you don’t want.”

“And what if I will?”

A low rumble rolled through the sky outside. Dae faced him with those arrogant eyes.

“You won’t. You may want to, but you won’t.”

He straightened, itching to snap.

“Get that fucking thing off,” he said instead, reaching for the towel around her torso. She caught his wrist in an iron grip.

“Not how it goes, doll.”

Dae attempted to push him away, but he channelled into his arm and kept up the resistance. That darkened her gaze. She tried to kick his leg back, but he knew her reflexive moves enough now.

Her face visibly tensed up into that of a wild bear’s expression.

“You don’t wanna fight me,” she warned, grabbing his deeply opened jacket. She tossed him to the side, which she could barely do as he cemented his weight down with an even greater channelling. Still, he stumbled back for a moment as Dae stood, advancing on him.

He gritted his teeth. “But you do,” as you always do, even when you could just hold me for one fucking moment.

Bongju swallowed the rest of his words, deflecting her arm that tried to lock around him. He grabbed at the towel around her neck, yanking her close, but she resisted, twisting it out of his hands, then throwing it on the side. She was openly irritated now.

Was this really it? What he wanted, what he couldn’t let go of? He loved the clan. He loved his life. And for what? He was alone — that much Sana was right about. His throat threatened to close up from a forming lump since the clinic, but he had no comfort to turn to. Never would. Not here.

He should stop hoping.

“You should stop pretending you care that much about what others want,” Dae said, grunting as he slipped out of her grasp and pulled an arm behind her back tightly. She practically growled at him. “Is that all you got?”

“Fuck you,” he spat, shoving her forward. But he could not make her really budge. Even in a single towel, she moved with the decades of experience behind her. Her skin warmed under his touch, and all he noticed was her arm rotating out of his hold and both her hands grabbing at the back of his jacket. The next moment, he was facing the ceiling, wheezing for a second as he was thrown onto the floor. His body ached, and his head pounded.

How could she say that he didn’t care? Was she right? What the fuck was he doing?

Ah, Hells, it hurt.

Dae hauled him up by his shirt and pushed him against the wall, feet hovering slightly over the floor. He grunted.

“I’m about to,” she said, then bit into his neck. He yelped, his body struggling but reacting at once. He threw his legs around her waist, and channelled to make himself heavy enough to throw them off balance to the side. They stumbled to the ground, both of them groaning as they tangled together. He got a few slaps to his face and bruises on his skin as she tried to grab at him. As did she. They wrestled long and clumsy, feeling more like children in the sandbox.

What were they doing?

It was ridiculous.

Still, Bongju continued even when Dae’s towel fell away, and his clothes tore and slipped off. How did they even get to her straddling him to kiss and bite down on his torso, Bongju wasn’t sure. The blur of the adrenaline rush wiped his mind clean of most of his worry. He sighed as her hand stayed around his throat while she worked off his trousers. He was sore all over, the floor hard and cold, yet he only felt the heat that rushed through his veins under her touch.

Why could only she give this to him?

Why could he love only her like this? He shouldn’t have, Deura knew he shouldn’t, but he could only trust so much without falling. And he trusted Dae with all he had.

Leaving the clan would mean leaving her. Could he live like that? Without the clan, he might. But without her?

Bongju moaned as she took him in all.

Dae was just as merciless as ever, and still, he knew she treated him especially roughly to get him to forget. A tough treatment for a moment of raw, thought-free bliss.

So then why couldn’t he let the idea of leaving go?

He shivered and moaned again as her tongue, her mouth, and her hands played with him. Always played with him. Just like with a doll.

Bongju laced his fingers into her hair and pulled her head off. He didn’t usually do that, as she didn’t really appreciate any fiddling with her hair. But he couldn’t hold back now.

Dae grunted, half-disapprovingly, half something else. She resisted, but gathering quite an amount of channelling, Bongju pushed her off with his leg. He pulled back his hand and sat up so he could treat her skin instead. Hurridly, he slipped from her chest, to her side and positioned behind her, out of her grasp.

Dae looked back over her shoulder, a curious glint in her narrowed eyes.

He wanted her familiar taste. He wanted her fully naked body pressed into him, until he truly forgot everything. He wanted to give himself up to her attention as long as he had it, but he knew he would end up being in the same position. And he had no patience for games tonight.

He dragged his palm through her back and pushed her forward to her elbows, while his other hand lifted her hips towards him. It wasn’t the subtle nudge he usually did, so she moved on her own. It was a demanding touch, one that earned resistance.

“Don’t be arrogant,” she said, straightening back, but keeping her hips where it was. She hummed as he pulled himself through his ass, but did not stop him. He didn’t tease, he didn’t wait — he just thrust into her. She grabbed back at his hair, pulling harshly, and he groaned alongside her.

He was not doing what he usually did. And still, she didn’t stop him.

Was that it? Was that the ache in his chest?

Because it would be the same. Because deep down, he knew if he’d leave, she wouldn’t stop him.

Cold water slid from his hair through his spine under her grip. He set a fast pace, fingers firmly sinking into her ass, while the other held her breast. He bent enough to be able to abuse her neck and shoulder, and she guided his head like she owned it.

Because godsdamned she did.

The sound, the scent, the sight of her cleared his mind out, leaving a now nameless, faint unrest in his being. The barely noticeable stinging in his eyes pulled back, and he melted into the heat, the pain, and the realness that was Dae.

But still — still he couldn’t shake off the feeling that this might be the last time.

Dae never loved him. Never would. But Sana did, gods only know why. Their kid would love him. And he knew it would not matter.

He didn’t care about being loved. He didn’t mind being the only one. As long as he could trust not to be abandoned, he would never care.

But how could he do to someone exactly what he dreaded the most?

His thoughts jumbled, and he was sensing that the usually freeing pleasure to come soon. Dae, too, leaned forward as he felt her nearing. Yet, she did not release his hair, so he bent with her. He followed until her forehead was touching the carpet, his way deeper and deeper in. His scalp was burning from the force of her grip, hair threatening to tear out.

She always touched like she would crush him first than let him go. Like she would keep him, cage him, never release him. And yet, she would never stop him from leaving.

Their sounds merged, and the rain turned muted in the background.

He dug his fingers into her skin on all sides, making her tense, then tremble. He, too, pushed his forehead down, into her fresh-scented, damp back as her hand gripped harder and he moved faster.

With the arching of her back and the tight feeling of her peaking high, all his concerns evaporated for a blissful moment.

He kept up until her voice gained a slight rasp, and his own body tensed alongside her. He felt trapped in the moment, aching in pleasure, but having no would-be or will-be looming over him. Only then and there, with no room for escape.

Eventually, though, her fingers in Bongju’s hair loosened, and he exhaled deeply.

Dae relaxed in his hands. And the moment was gone. He was back in the confines of his mind, just like that.

She straightened without thinking twice to let him rest on her back. Standing with ease, she would have walked away if Bongju hadn’t stopped her with a hand around the wrist.

“Just stay a second,” he said, and pulled out a fabric tissue from his back pocket. He adjusted his clothes, squatting up to clean her up. Their eyes locked for a moment. There was a certain kind of amusement in Dae’s gaze that his actions earned a couple of times. They did not speak, but she did stay. Bongju always found these small gestures necessary to show what he couldn’t say. He didn’t know if they made any difference, yet he did not stop doing them.

He finished her up, and she gave him the smallest of nods.

Without a word, she approached the couch, reaching into the small pile of fresh clothes on the armrest to put on underwear and a shirt that she let unbottuned. Bongju, too, stood, adjusting more on himself when she opened the window so the still, rain-filled, cool air could rush in. She lit a cigarette, and he went to the bathroom to grab the mop.

He stole a glance from his reflection as he left the little space.

A ruffled, total mess of a man looked back at him. His hair was a newly created nest, his shirt thorned in the middle, and his skin already visibly bruised. But what made him wet his throat was that foreign, haunted circle around his eyes. He blinked away the image and the feeling.

He mopped at the wet little patch, making sure that all was absorbed.

Dae extended a cigarette to him that she lit alongside hers before. He accepted it and continued working. Smoke between his lips, mop in his hands, he wondered if it would be like this with Sana and the kid. Was this a kind of domesticity? He didn’t think so. He never really wanted to know. Yet, he might just need to get used to the thought.

He felt Dae’s gaze on him as she smoked beside the window, and somehow, he just knew no one would be anything like this.

Bongju exhaled his smoke, waiting.

He put the essentials back into their place, stopping a little before the front door. He looked back at Dae as she sipped at the beer she had abandoned before. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t do anything. She didn’t wait for anything. She simply observed.

Bongju almost chuckled without a shred of humour. She needed to know his conclusion. Yet, she stayed there, watching.

It shouldn’t have had to be that hard.

“Goodnight,” he said at last, turning to the entrance.

“’Night,” was all he heard as the door closed behind him. Because she, after all, would never stop him from leaving.

[void-after-hours]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 🐺

wc: 4,140 pairing: Lonel x Odena, m x f, established relationship song: NFWMB by Hozier loosely connected or “part 1” but not necessary snip: The Crimson Masquerade cw: usual insane explicity, oral (f. recieving), fingering, public sex, exhibitionism, supernatural bullshit, dirty talk? (i can’t), excessive description of scent (or scent kink even) like i didn’t NEED to go this hard but who’s gonna stop me, great amount of cursing, messy sex, Lonel’s a true workingman, jealous and possessive wolfboy, totally threw the masquerade thing out on the window in this one

Lonel prowled through the darkness of the Phobia’s open corridor. No reflector light touched him in the obscurity of the massive, velvet-covered pillars, seemingly offering a private moment from the tumult. The guests indulged in the dim spotlights, seduced into willingly stringing their demise’s noose around their own necks. Lonel watched them laugh, kiss and dance with more than two dozen bloodsuckers throughout the evening, every one having at least two mortals clinging to their presence.

He slowly inched from one pillar to another, following along Odena’s path a great distance away. She was pulled inside a circle of quickly formed fans after their performance, and they agreed that she could handle herself alone. However, that didn’t stop her from glancing in his direction sporadically.

Lonel dropped his sixth cigarette that evening, stubbing it with his boots on the spotless hardwood floor.

Even after so many, his mind still buzzed with the constantly prodding preternatural fingers trying to enter. None could, lucky for Selys, but that did not discourage them from trying further.

He watched and listened Odena laugh among the men and women. Her glinting dark eyes ambled over him again as she looked around for a second. She played her part exceptionally. She was effortlessly engaging and a touch flirtatious to everyone who cornered her. In the glow of her form-fitting teal dress, she conversed with casual confidence, winning lasting attention just as easily as she did in the museum. She was in the centre of the pool of information, just what they wanted.

Yet, Lonel’s fist itched.

It was very little to do with the intruding touches that occasionally landed on Odena’s bare arms and shoulders from whoever was closest. But it had everything to do with her scent.

The cigarette might have helped to shield them from mind games, but it also thinned Lonel’s runes’ effect enough to make it aggravating. His ears ached from the shrill plucking of strings among the slow, deep basses in the speakers, the clinking glasses and the hysterical giggles some people let it slip out. Yet, it was nothing compared to the hellish scent pit that lingered in his overly sensitive nostrils.

Vampires neutralised their hollow no-scent by superficial additives, which were hard to differentiate from others’ simple perfumes. The thick incense, dry ice smoke or the food besides that only poked his fire to a blaze.

Although, Lonel could long tell one person from another — thanks to the underlying natural uniqueness of everyone’s fragrance — in such a crowd his damning heightened senses did nothing but made it painfully overwhelming.

He clung to Odena’s in the vortex of nighclawlers and hellspawns. Her intimately familiar whiff of curious jasmine was ever-present, and even though he caught hints of the stench of decaying plants, the unmistakable smell of fear, Lonel decided to keep following her because she began reeking in a completely different kind of way.

“What are they doing to her?” Lonel grumbled when he caught a white, phantom presence in his periphery. He turned his head, but no one was there, as expected, yet the ghost of a person lingered in the corner of his sight. Fucking vampires and their slimey tricks.

Selys’s silhouette stayed where it was, matching his pace to Lonel’s.

“They’re surveying,” Sleys said, his voice contemplative. “She’s really open to them, so even with the cigarettes, they may be able to nudge her emotions. Not much, because the protection is potent, and you can only be able to be read by the one who gifted it to you. However, there are a lot of them around her, and a collective attempt may be more productive than a lone one.”

He subtly looked over her, the motion distorted in Lonel’s side vision.

“So you’re telling me your cigarettes worth shit if there’s a ton of you pests?” Lonel asked low and unkind.

His nose kept filling with a subtle pinch of the sharp fragrance coming from Odena. It was the opposite of unpleasant, sour with a piquant undertone that closely resembled the tawonian dishes she so loved to eat on lazy nights. The Phobia dripped in the aroma since they stepped inside, every other person oozing it like the incense sticks the smoke on the window sills. But not them. Not so far. Lonel bit back the urge to bare his teeth as he watched another group of ��people’ take the previous ones' places around Odena.

Her gaze landed on his eyes for a heartbeat again.

The one thing he was more familiar with than the taste of her skin was the scent of her arousal. One that was very prominently present and growing bolder by the minute.

Selys’s expression remained unreadable. “Not at all. Their puppeteering attempts do not have an effect on her. Their examination of her blood, however, isn’t completely neutralised, I’m sorry to say. Have you seen Marcelin touching her pendant? She had her fingers on her artery for a second. And Silvenus’ innocent wrist lift to inspect her ‘fascinating bracelet’ was only to feel at her pulse. Mortals’ blood reacts to our touch if we call to it. It warms and seeks to find who can it belong to. You’re aware that we can’t do something we have no invitation for. There’s no coincidence why her people deem us seductive. It is courtship. We need to tempt not just them, but their blood to us. And the more prominent they grow, the more we sense it, the more we crave it. It’s a cruel circle like that.”

Selys paused, but did not flinch when Lonel spat in the shadowed corner. The bloodsucker looked in Odena’s direction again, keeping his gaze there.

“Although she is impressively resistant. I suggest you do not wait so much longer, wolf.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“They all try to make her blood belong to them, and she’s inviting more around her with her scent alone. However, we are predators by nature, just like you. There are unwritten rules that everyone obeys.” Selys became a touch more tangible in Lonel’s vision. “You ought to step ahead of them and mark your territory.”

Lonel clenched his jaw, eyes set on her and the gathering.

“Sure, I should just piss her around and call it a day. I’m not a fucking dog, hellspawn. And she’s no territory.”

“I’m aware, but you’re in our world right now. You either play by the rules, or all we did was walk into their trap with a dangling treat on your arms. Show them that it is not the case.” Selys smiled, smooth and knowing. He materialised to Lonel for a single moment, and his ice-cold, quiet breath chilled his ear canal as he whispered, “Mark what’s yours, wolf.”

Lonel snapped his head to the side, snarling, but no one was there anymore. His vision cleared as well. Selys was gone.

Motherfucking bloodsucker.

The goosebumps on his skin receded, only to prickle out again when he noticed Odena’s scent fading slowly. He jerked around, just catching her open back shoulder through the crowd, right towards the porch area. No one was on her tail, not yet, or visibly.

Lonel followed immediately.

The distance might have made her less protruding in his nose, but the intensity of her scent only grew. At that rate, she’d become the most desired aphrodisiac for both Lonel and their enemies.

He stepped into the warm night of countless stars and a waning, bright silver moon. Odena escaped into the lush, pretentiously well-cut flora in the ridiculously vast garden. The event’s stalking reflectors spilt onto the closest sections, and Lonel almost laughed from finding a maze back here.

The Phobia was a nightclub housed in an old mansion, and Lonel couldn’t have despised it more.

He followed Odena’s scent into the maze, their distance enough to not catch up to her just yet, but sense her all the same. He cursed as his body pulsed from her thickening aroma. That was the thing with arousal. It was like a desease, a goddamn plague — when one was touched by it even just a tiny bit, it spread faster than wildfire. Especially when two were so attuned to each other, like he was with Odena.

What happened to her, it happened to him.

Lonel trudged through the viney, old, decorated concrete walls, not really paying attention to the path. He only needed to stick to his nose, which guided him precisely. He could now differentiate an anise-like tinge to her scent. She was an open prey like that. Why was she here?

Lonel reached back, cursed when he remembered that dress pants had no fucking back pockets, then rummaged out a crumpled cigarette from his jacket’s breast pocket instead. He lit it, inhaling deeply, then turned into a small open area surrounded by blooming bushes. Odena’s scent ruled the place as she stood beside the masterfully crafted Saviour’s statue. An ornate stone wall fountain was built behind them, another crafted face trickling water out of its concrete mouth in a leisurely rhythm.

The Saviour’s feminine stone hands were reaching down to Odena, as if to offer help, and she admired it as if she would be there for a mere field inspection.

The moon cast its silver shine on her, the flowing teal fabric glistening around her long raven hair and exposed, bare shoulders. Lonel relaxed, for just a moment, while he watched her slowly walk around the statue two times her size. She paid close attention to every detail of the great female form, from the overly kind face to the dripping stone blood on her fingertips.

He leaned against the maze wall, smoking and letting his itch turn from a violent urge to a contented want. His rune cracked further from the cigarette, and in such a state, he could clearly hear her fingers slowly gliding on the stone, the soft beating of an expectant heart, and the gentle inhaling as she finally noticed him.

“Took you long enough,” she stated, smiling a little.

Lonel cocked a brow. A prickling faded off his mind, and he squinted from the grating sensation of being watched.

Odena rounded the stone podium of the statue step by step. She clarified, “I knew you’d come.”

“You’re lucky it’s me.”

“Is it luck, really?” Her dark red lipstick was a shameless tease on her smile. She sauntered closer to him, and the waning proximity made Lonel’s skin blaze. Not only his nostrils, but the whole of his lungs burned from all of her. He did not move, though.

“Yeah, since you’ve apparently become a grand prize tonight.”

Lonel kept her searching gaze as he took another drag.

Odena didn’t seem surprised. “So I see, and feel.” She stepped just close enough so she could pluck the cigarette out of his fingers. She lifted it to her lips and smiled. “But I’ve lived my life among predators. I’m a woman, remember?”

Lonel scoffed, the faintly building excitement in her heartbeats a pleasant caress to his ears.

“Hard to forget,” he said, training his eyes on her form swaying back to the statue. “But there’s a difference this time, they’re no mortals.”

As if inviting him to a dance, Odena turned back to him, smoke twirling out of her lips, while she walked before the statue.

“Nor are you,” she added.

Her free hand came up to her ribs, her fingers trailing the satin-like fabric. It sizzled softly in Lonel’s ears, and her scent was nearing the point where it would become dizzying. All the hair stood ready on his body, right alongside his bottom half. Still, he stayed where he was, watching Odena rest his cigarette between her lips as she slightly brushed her plated dress away, showing a glimpse of her rich green lingerie while she glided a finger under it. Her eyes gleamed and smiled while she ever so patiently slid it off on her peeking, long legs until she was fully rid of it.

Lonel slowly scratched at his short beard.

“You seem conflicted,” Odena stated, placing the neatly folded lace at the feet of the statue. He half-scoffed, half-chuckled.

“And you awfully intrigued. Your goddamn curiosity’s gonna get you in real trouble once, Blossom.”

She, too, chuckled, inhaling from his cigarette as she elegantly popped free the single, hidden button on her side. The deeply cut dress loosened and fell away to reveal her naked body. The moonlight gave them the stage, and she stood there, love handles and perfectly ripe breasts framing her smooth stomach that hid ghosts of stretch marks, confidence and shameless desire finding its rightful place on her face.

She smiled wider, stubbing out the half-finished cigarette on the edge of the stone platform, tucking the rest beside her lingerie. “Perhaps once.” She leaned back against the podium, her dress leisurely hanging from her shoulders. “But tonight you’re here to prevent that, don’t you? You just need to make me yours for them.”

She flicked her dark brown gaze up at the mansion, and Lonel knew she was talking about the balcony. It had an eerily great view of this place.

Lonel pushed himself off the wall. His blood rushed in his veins, and he walked up to Odena as if her scent would be a too-short string yanking him back in his place. He almost reciprocated her smile, but lifted a hand over her breast instead.

“Not for them.” He hovered his hand before he lowered it to her hips eventually. Even in heels, she was a touch shorter than him. He couldn’t help but frown as he leaned down, close enough to her chest to drown in her scent. Slowly, he guided himself to his knees as he looked up at her, fancy pants hitting the dirt loudly to his ears. “How’d you know that, anyway?”

Odena watched him with that smile, but her heart’s thrumming quickened when he stroked his rough palms through her plush sides, and left the first kiss at her lower stomach.

“Selys told me.”

Lonel’s lips twitched on her warmed skin.

“He gets in your head?” he grumbled, trailing his hands to her ass and kisses down on her thigh, right beside her core. Odena shivered.

“Occasionally, but only tonight. Why do you think he told you to mark what’s yours?”

Lonel rested his bearded chin on her as he squinted up, one hand sliding to her left thigh, the other exploring the back of her right just to evenly lift it up and guide it over his shoulder.

“You said that?” he asked, incredulous, but not really surprised. His senses went haywire from the mad intensity Odena’s scent reached. His head filled with it, oozing under his skin and into his bones. She was glowing in the moonlight as he watched her from under.

Odena laced her fingers in his hair, swiping it away.

“Of course. Think of it as making up for all the irresponsible little stuff we missed out on in high school together.”

Lonel chuckled, despite himself. “Yeah, right.” He studied her, listening to her heartbeat, smelling her alluring want. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Can’t a single mom have fun sometimes?” She smiled, and his lips twitched in the same direction.

Unbelievable, this woman.

“Under the threat of losing her free will and, you know, life? Plenty.”

He closed out the pokings in his mind and turned back to bury his face into her. Her ghostly hitch in her breathing was music to his ears. He felt the prickling of watchful presences on his nape, but he rather chanelled his aggravation into a deep lick into her cunt. She sighed, her scent sending him an inch short of delirium. He tasted every familiar part of her, drinking in the intoxicating fragrance that morphed and turned more dense. Lonel’s blood buzzed, his crotch pulsing as he played with her swollen clit, and listened to her quiet moan.

Whatever making her blood belong to him meant, he wasn’t going to stop until it happened.

Just like with the intruders, he closed out the water’s trickling in his ears, the rustling of the bushes and the noise of the event in the distance. His only focus was on her enthusiastically racing heartbeat, the forming sweet sweat on her skin, and her fingernails sinking into his scalp. A rune loosened wasn’t quite like the remnants of a full moon, but still Lonel sensed everything on a decently heightened level. Her taste etched into his tongue, her scent taking over his own, and her sounds flowing into his skull, filling it to the brim.

Lonel leaned more under her, swiping his tongue through her folds, then inside while he glanced up. She held onto the Saviour’s helping hand over her head and choked out another moan. He sunk his fingers into her ass, containing the slumbering ire in his veins.

She was on display, and however much she clearly revelled in it, Lonel’s gums itched to űgrow fangs just so he could rip and tear.

Even if they needed them all to know she was off limits, they were perfectly capable of doing that without oogling at her.

Lonel sucked at her clit, and she arched into his mouth, breath audibly shuddering. Every particle of her body screamed at him that she was nearing.

So he guided his fingers forward on her thigh, sending goosebumps down her skin, right until he could replace his tongue with it. He rose from the ground, his nose and beard tickling through her stomach, between her breasts, until he was facing her flushed face in all its glory.

She searched his face as he worked his finger on her, his other hand nudging her side for her to turn around. Odena did so, but added with a sigh, “You said it’s not for them. So don’t make this about them.” She smiled back at him as she squeezed her thighs around his hand, moulding her back against his front. “Make this about us.”

He slid a finger in and she slithered back a hand to hold onto the back of his neck, breathing in deep.

“Hush now,” he whispered close in her ear, groaning as she rolled against his crotch. She was read and deciphered by dozens of supernaturals, yet she needed no powers to know what he or, frankly, any of them was thinking.

Lonel kissed into her neck, cupping her breast in his free hand, while she reached behind and unbuttoned his pants as if it was a mere inconvenience.

“Why? Don’t you want to know how good you feel inside me?” she purred, humming as he pumped her into a shiver.

He growled against her skin, “Don't.” She stroked at him, and he mimicked her moan. All he needed was her words to make him forget those watchful pests somewhere around them. To soothe his itch to flick a lit cigarette on a curtain and let the mansion go up in flames, all there was consumed until they were no more than ashes. He didn’t want comfort, he didn’t want taming. He wanted her whispers, touches and scent. He wanted her to be rid of them all. But it was she who needed to belong to him now, not the other way around.

She released him just so she could roll her ass against his twitching cock. Lonel closed his eyes, letting out a guttural sound. He needed her blood, her heart, her everything to sing to him, to buzz with his touch. He needed to step up.

Fuck it.

“Tell me, then,” he rumbled, knowing full well how to appease this side of her. If those up there or anywhere wanted to see it, to hear it, then they fucking will. “Tell me how good I make you feel.”

Odena spared him a dazed, half-lidded glance while her lips simultaneously spoke of amusement and disapproval as he pulled back his finger. She was so close, he basically couldn’t see or feel anything but her vibrant high. And so he, too, struggled as he grabbed at her hips to angle her right.

“Missing the compliments, handsome?” she teased. Lonel grunted an answer, then entered her slowly.

Odena gasped, pulling his neck down so she could kiss him back. He swallowed her sounds, bending with her, as she gave him better access to slide deeper. He opened her mouth with his, just like she liked to have it, her other hand reaching up to grab at the Saviour’s stone hand. Lonel sank in so easily that that in itself made him pulse.

“Ah,” Odena sighed, when he thrust into her long and deep. “You want me to tell you how well you fill me in? You do, baby. God, you do. You’re doing it the best. No one, oh, could ever do it this good. No one could ever know me this well.”

Lonel bit back a curse, his other, restless self straining against his runes. The prickle of his fur itched through his skin, and he huffed as he forced his attention on cradling her breasts, while keeping up an unevenly quickening rhythm. He huffed, pressing back all his urges that Odena’s impossibly present scent ruffled up. No one should smell out his true nature, but he couldn’t just stop now. Not that he’d be able to.

Odena’s lower back arched with her next moan, and her heartbeat thundered in Lonel’s ears.

Her voice rose in volume, but not weakened in tone. “Oh, baby, you always find it.” She whimpered, clenching over Lonel as he clearly hit the spot. Odena pushed her chest into his hands. “You never miss. You’re making me feel so good.”

“Godless Hells, just—” Lonel growled, burying himself deeper as she slid her legs more apart. He had constant shivers running down his spine, the sensation matching the intensity of Odena’s scent.

And, finally, he noticed a coming tinge of sweetness to it.

Lonel stepped a little between her legs, one of his hand finding her clit, while he murmured against her shoulder. “Tell me who’s are you. Tell me you’re mine.”

Her heart hummed and drummed like a song, her darling skin slick under his fingertips, vibrating under the touches. Odena moaned, then chuckled. He could see her beautiful face contorting, her lips fully apart as she melted into his hold in all directions.

She panted as she said, “Yours— I’m yours, baby. Fully and forever.”

She was; for once, she was his. And now that was goddamn clear for everyone.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, moaning as he increased his depth without a rush. He shuddered alongside her, his hand firm on her clit to lure out the thickening sweetness in her scent. She clenched at him constantly, not shying back from vocalising it. It didn’t take too much more for the sweetness to wash over Lonel’s senses like a tsunami, Odena’s orgasm hitting him all over. He cursed, releasing a sound deep from his stomach as he gave himself up, too. They whimpered in tandem while he filled her, his arms holding her secure in his hold.

Without a conscious effort, his breathing matched hers, and he vibrated from the pleased buzz her body emitted. They settled slowly, Lonel caressing her skin in his hands. She relaxed at him, and he into her.

Odena pushed against his front, gently straightening them both as she, too, caressed his hands holding her. She felt at her dress not to fall on Lonel’s limp lap, while she turned and kissed him again. He revelled in the soft touch of her lips and the sour taste of her lipstick.

Odena leaned back, smiling into his eyes.

“Did it work?” she asked, and Lonel laughed. He pulled out a crumpled tissue from his other pocket and started cleaning himself.

“I have a hunch it did.” He shrugged in mock uncertainty. “Though I can’t read your blood, so, who knows?”

Odena grinned at him, approaching the fountain to follow his example.

I can confirm.

Lonel snarled from Selys’s voice in his head, while Odena laughed.

Yet, for the first time that night, he felt the prickling of being watched fade away. The abuse on his mind dissipated with it, and he locked eyes with Odena, sprinkling water on herself.

She smiled at him victoriously, and it was everything.

[void-after-hours]

𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 🐾

wc: 5,417 pairing: Bongju (50) x Fang/Dae (54), m x f, subordinate x superior song: Talk by Hozier cw: soft dom!Bongju?, almost sub!Fang?, sprinkle of painplay ig, choking, bondage, dirty talk or smth, (semi-)public sex, completely plotless at the end, they read more like horndog teens lmao, a bit out of character maybe 

Bongju tilted his head to the side, trying and failing to drink in the artistic measure of the statue before him. He glanced at the bronze plaque at their feet, then back at the curving, zig-zagging stone tendrils that were supposed to make out the four Guardians with Queen Daseul in their joined hold — which, he just couldn’t see.

Dae bit into her shaved ice on his left, same posture, same expression. “Well, I don’t get it.”

“Yeah,” Bongju agreed, shrugging. He licked the last of his iced dessert off his wooden spoon, the watermelon’s sweet, watery taste dissolving quick on his tongue.

Tawon National Park was a vast place, and an especially stuffed one at that. History nights invited more people in with their little perks like discounts and whatnot, and the summer heat lessened to a nice temperature to wander through ages long lost.

Children ran around behind Bongju and Dae, as some parents stopped to admire the statue. Couples held onto each other, pulling more under the shade of the paper screens shielding this little corner from the park lamps’ sharp light. There was an embarrassing number of people staring at it in awe.

Oh, well.

“Next stop,” he said, but Dae took another moment to look the statue up and down with a crease in her forehead. At last, she shrugged, too, turning away to follow Bongju.

She spooned another bite into her mouth. “What’s with this culture fascination all of a sudden?”

“It’s my fiftieth birthday.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

Bongju smiled, leading them through a path cupped in the drooping red maples blooming palm. The lamplight broke through the foliage in patches, bleeding onto the ground. Vibrant red leaves glowed against the night sky, turning them into a floating river of blood above.

Now that, Bongju could appreciate.

“You know what they say about turning fifty,” he started, basking in Dae’s quiet interest in the form of a casual glance. He absentmindedly placed his dessert bowl on the stand at the mouth of the archway while they left it eventually. “You mature to your fullest and start understanding things that didn’t make sense before. I thought it’d be fun to check. History, I get, though, art is still beyond me.” He chuckled. Dae smiled, too, lifting another bite to her lips. Bongju stepped close and stole it, savouring her annoyed amusement as he leaned back with his prize in his mouth. He grinned. “Plus, there’s free shaved ice today.”

“You’re a kid,” Dae laughed, licking off another spoonful. “No matter how old you are.”

Bongju swallowed the sweet cold, opening his palms in nonchalance. “I like to play. There’s a difference.”

“Sure.”

He huffed a chuckle, leaving it at that. He steered them towards the sprawling green field, holding a surprisingly sparse crowd. Ruined animal kennels, antique armours and various time-eaten weapons were scattered around behind a short brick threshold that surrounded the whole area. Each piece had a barely perceptible cordon cornering them. An ornate bronze plaque boasted beside the open area that Bongju assumed to be the entrance.

The Battlefield of the Witch Queen’s Triumph, true to life replica — it read.

“So how was it for you?” Bongju asked, stepping into the staged scene. Dae abandoned her not yet empty bowl in her hand, water occasionally dripping onto the mostly burnt-out grassland. He continued at her silent question. “Turning fifty.”

Dae’s forehead creased ever so subtly. “You tell me. You knew me back then, too.”

“I don’t mean the celebration. I know you don’t do that. But how did it feel?”

She thought for a moment as they strolled the scene.

Stares lingered on them as people passed by, some children even gaping at Dae. Bongju smiled at that, sincere understanding nestling in his chest. She always had a presence, yet today it was especially magnetic. The summer heat forced them to put on less even at night, which meant she switched to her short-sleeved shirts. The sleeves were still a little folded, hugging her defined arms close, buttons undone so low it was a miracle she didn’t show anything. Her shirt’s hideous, all-over pattern would have stung Bongju’s eyes on anyone else, but as much of a hot mess Dae’s fashion sense usually was, she somehow made that joke of a clothing alluring. Her tattoos were on full display from wrists to neck, and Deura knows how; her shirt complemented the crammed, yet masterfully crafted pictures on her skin.

Dae rounded a half-buried armour. “I didn’t really care,” she answered finally. “It’s just a number. Not gonna change something overnight.”

“Mhm, but they say the feeling of getting older really settles in around that time. Didn’t you have that?”

“Why then?” she asked instead of an answer. They slowly gravitated towards a notably big tent among all the scattered antiques. “I don’t think there’s a specific time when it hits you. People just like to make it special because they get scared. But we grow older either way, it’s not a matter of choice, so I don’t see the point in making it a big deal.”

Bongju’s smile reached his eyes. They entered the tent, stepping into a long-gone past. The furniture was the perfect replica of the textbook Shinnan era. There was a low table at the back where the meetings supposedly happened, a wooden travel chest, and many kinds of decorations filling the space. No cordon separated the antiques here, leaving visitors to roam freely, but it was obvious that none should really touch anything.

It once was a Queen’s tent, after all.

“You’re not making a big deal out of anything really.” Bongju admired the weapon collection standing against the fabric walls.

“Like I said, there’s no point.” Dae tried a spear’s edge on her fingertip, smiling to herself when it didn’t pierce. “You didn’t care about age before, though. What’s with this newfound obsession?”

Bongju shrugged, sitting down a little farther in front of the table with crossed legs, wrists draped on his knees. The cool touch of the ground could be felt even through the carpets. “I’m just wondering. I heard some people start to gain control over their lives when they grow older. Perhaps I should, too.”

“Are you out of control?”

“I certainly was. When I look back, it’s evident.”

Dae hummed. She placed her dewy bowl on the table and sat beside it. The wood creaked, but it held her weight. Her thighs leisurely hung open as she crossed her ankles, leaning back on her hands. She looked around the tent, then at Bongju with a familiar glint in her eyes. There was something on her mind.

“That’s what youth is for,” she said eventually. Her voice carried the small half-smile of her lips.

Bongju watched her the same way. She kept carrying herself with confidence, but with time, it was laced with more intention, more thought behind every step. There was no strain in the way she controlled things anymore, not for decades now. She was simply like that.

Bongju trailed his gaze through the soft wrinkles on her face that the dim light made more prominent. The faint scars on her jaw, her brow and cheek glinted a little. The front of her hair already hung heavy with grey locks, still blending well into the decreasing raven base. She slicked it back, as always, but a few fell forward to frame her face. The once-a-touch softer edges of her jaw and nose sharpened like a well-maintained claw knife, and Bongju wondered how someone could wear ageing so well on their person.

He said, “I agree. Which is why I should have more sense of what I’m doing and what I want now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Dae’s smile widened, and Bongju reciprocated the gesture. He pushed himself to his fours, crawling up to Dae, until he was close enough to kneel between her legs. He propped his arms on her thighs, intertwining his fingers while he kept her gaze.

“And what do you want?” Dae asked. Bongju’s eyes narrowed slightly at the very little amount of teasing in her tone. He waited a beat, so she continued. “Seriously. Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

Bongju’s lips parted softly, but he closed them as the urge came. His smile didn’t falter. “That sounds like a trap.”

Dae laughed. “You said you should have more control. Go on, then. Have some.”

He couldn’t help but keep frowning. The words were light and easy. Sincere. And he didn’t know what to do with them. What did she mean by having him control? As in, over her? That would be… well. Certainly new.

“Is this your idea of a birthday present?” he asked, eyeing the way she drank him in.

“Sure, whatever you want it to be.”

Bongju chuckled, not even trying to hide his bewilderment. Dae never talked like that.

“What had gotten into you, woman?”

It was more rhetorical than anything. And so Dae didn’t indulge it.

“I’m just saying. It can be anything. Many anythings.”

Anything.

The outside world was remote and quiet through the thick fabric walls. Bongju’s mind wandered to a hundred places, through a hundred scenarios. He could see the genuinity in Dae’s eyes, and something else, too. He knew it wasn’t a test, nor a joke. Since he moved in, their connection shifted but didn’t truly change. Yet, this was different. This was giving him something she had guarded her whole life. Was she really handing him so much?

Bongju wet his lips, placing his chin on his knuckles as he propped his elbows up on her thighs.

“Feed me,” he said, exploratory.

Dae smirked, infectious, as she slowly took the bowl into her hand again, scooping then lifting her spoon to his lips. He accepted it, slowly taking off the dessert while his eyes remained on her. There was that usual provocative spark in her gaze, but nothing else. No challenge, no second meaning.

Just pure openness.

Bongju leaned back, his skin warming from the heat that smouldered inside his body. Without a word, Dae scooped up another bite and held it out again. Gods, she was serious.

Bongju licked it off once again, staying close this time. The intrigued, wanting weight naturally fell over his gaze, just like Dae’s. He breathed in slowly, sliding his hands through her thighs, until they were resting on her hips.

He had her more times than he could count. And still, there was at least one more thing they steered toward only on a single occasion. Was that on the table too?

Bongju hesitated. Then, he straightened on his knees, rising to the same height as Dae for once. He dug his fingers into her sides while his eyes dropped to her lips. Her smile widened.

“Kiss me,” he stated, low and quiet.

And just like that, she did.

Dae closed the distance between them with a deliberate movement. Her lips collided with his, not impatient, but rough. Usual. Bongju hummed reflexively, the click of the bowl being placed on the table sharp in his ears. She slid closer to him as he pulled her to his front. His slightly numbed tongue was warmed by her hot breath. One of her hands snaked at his neck, close to his jaw. He breathed her in as her cooled, damp touch sent a shiver down his spine.

Bongju leaned back just a little, looking at her through half-opened eyes. “Slower,” he murmured at her lips. Dae’s smile wasn’t subtle enough for him not to feel it while she complied. He couldn’t help but do the same. While the vehemence changed into an even rhythm, her tongue pried his mouth open, slipping in. Bongju held back a moan. Despite her offer, her nature was hard to suppress, huh. He guided her hand from his neck, into his hair, yet again pulling away just a touch, “Softer.”

That took a moment.

Dae chuckled into his mouth, though her tongue retreated. Leaving the unrestrained, thrill-soaked touches behind was strange, but something he couldn’t get out of his head since they shared that moment before he moved in. The quiet intimacy of that kiss held him hostage. He wanted her, he needed her, but for once, he wanted to savour her. Just like then.

Bongju pulled her even closer by a strengthened grip on her hips and tasted every corner of her mouth. He kissed her gently, breathing alongside her, until the coldness of the dessert disappeared from her lips.

They kissed since that first tender one two years ago, but it was always wild and consuming. It was never like this.

Dae followed his rhythmic dance on her lips, and to his surprise, she moulded into him. She didn’t play him up, didn’t grind on him despite his very present semi-hardness — she hadn’t even scratched at his scalp. The only thing she did was what he told her, warming his body with her closeness and kissing him so softly it made him crave much more.

He pulled his tongue through her bottom lip, prompting her to bury her fingers deeper in his hair. Breath by breath, Bongju widened her mouth, exploring every inch, slipping his tongue in and relishing her until all the remnants of sweet watermelon melted away, leaving their own tastes to linger.

Heavens, he couldn’t get enough.

“Wait here,” he whispered, breathless, as he forced himself to pull away. Dae watched him stand, not sizing him up as she usually would have. She didn’t nod, but her smile told him everything. She leaned back on her hands, crossing back her ankles as he looked at her once more before he left the tent.

Not even the summer night’s cool air could snap him out of his daze. He ran his fingers through his hair, every lock jumping back into his eyes while he looked for the little regulator booth. He adjusted his brown shirt’s folded-up sleeves at his elbows when he spotted it. There were still a few people around in that area.

Bongju never really minded publicity or interruption. It excited him as much as it irked him, but oh, he wouldn’t let anyone postpone this. They could have gone home for it, sure, yet he had patience for only one thing tonight, and the travel time wasn’t it.

He loosened his trousers a little for good measure and knocked on the booth’s wooden wall. A sturdy, tall man peeked through the door, whose name tag stated his position as the senior supervisor of the battlefield portion.

He didn’t reciprocate Bongju’s assuring smile.

“Could you do me a favour?” he asked, nevertheless, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket. He handed a handful of dasens to the man without paying attention to the amount. “I’d like to rent out the Queen’s tent.”

The man scowled, although he accepted the money. His mouth gradually fell agape as he quickly leafed through the bills. Only one question followed it, “How long?”

“As long as I’m in.”

The supervisor’s face didn’t give much away as he eventually shooed him back, mumbling an ‘alright, alright’.

“Thank you, good night,” Bongju chimed, noting to leave a tip for him on the way home.

He turned on his heels before the door could properly close. He wasn’t rushing, but he didn’t take his sweet time either. His mind wandered, his pulse buzzing but steady.

He wondered how they even got here. A great number of things changed since he moved in with Dae, and yet almost everything stayed the same. They were performing as they always did, in and outside their shared space. But they stayed up on Fridays to watch the street performers from the sidewalk-facing window together. They lounged on the couch, leaning against each other after a busier day. They went out less frequently on the weekends, playing board games instead. They did all that, yet without any of the intoxicating energy that kept them on their feet years before. And it was natural, nice, domestic, even.

Bongju re-entered the tent, clasping its flaps together from inside.

He turned to Dae and watched her effortless ease in sitting atop a Queen’s table. She glanced up at him, dragging her gaze from the interior. There were so many things they shared and showed to each other since the day they met. And yet, splitting control was not on the table. She needed it, she cared about it, while he didn’t. Not ever. He didn’t need it to have his own mind.

Still, she waited for him here. She handed him the very thing she held the closest, what he never would have asked for, and she looked at him without doubt or caging swirling in her gaze.

She trusted him. And gods, he couldn’t not love her for it.

Bongju walked to Dae, her eyes following upward as he stood before her. He caressed her cheek with his knuckles, then slowly took her face in his palm.

“Are you sure?” he asked the question he had never before thought to address to her.

Dae’s brows twitched up in interest.

“That’s a loaded question.” Her tone carried the smallest teasing edge, but her eyes softened ever so subtly. “And an unnecessary one. We’ve done this a couple of times now, you know.”

Bongju chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, not like this.”

“So?”

“So, I’ll try something different, and you gotta tell me when we stray to off limits.”

Dae’s smile widened, and he assumed it was from the deliberate authority sprinkled in his voice.

“You’re mistaking me for someone else, doll. Do you know me as someone who wouldn’t tell?”

Bongju chuckled again, “Fair enough.”

His thumb stroked her chin, tilting it up while he leaned down to kiss her again. He took his time, deepening it earlier than before, but still keeping it soft and intimate. She let him go without any sign of resistance. It was still strange to kiss her so freely, so many times, not really planning to stop anytime soon. He kept savouring every second, every minute, every mingled breath.

“Take off my trousers,” he commanded, leaving a kiss at the corner of her lips. The constant ghost of a half-smile still never left her face, while she unbuckled his belt. Her hand rubbed at his awakening crotch.

Bongju sighed at her skin, lifting her head so he could kiss down to her jaw, then back to her lips.

Dae’s hands slithered under his clothes, her touch warmer now, and persistently on his hips, then his thighs. She pulled his trousers off with much care, slowly dropping it to the ground.

Bongju smiled at her lips when his arms littered with goosebumps.

He detached from her for a moment, “Now stand.”

“You won’t get to it before midnight at this rate,” Dae joked, clearly not being able to hold it in. She stood, nevertheless, then narrowed her eyes when Bongju’s hand pulled on her face with a careful force.

“I don’t care if it takes all night. I don’t have anywhere to be.” He leaned so close, his lips almost brushing hers again. “Do you?”

Satisfaction fluttered in his chest when Dae smiled, but her eyes stayed narrowed. She let out a breathy scoff.

“Stay still,” Bongju said next, and he left a final kiss on her gently swollen, slightly reddened lips. He trailed from there, yet again contouring her cheeks, her jaw, and her neck. “Mirror me.” Despite his usual route, he now slipped his hand at her abdomen first, her shirt a featherweight on top of it. His kisses and bites were tongueful and deeply marking, while his fingers caressed and scratched on her skin. It was careful, tender, but enough to hurt.

Bongju felt Dae’s shiver under his mouth, and yet again sighed when she did as she was told. Her attempts perfectly matched his, even as he guided his hand upward. Without much trouble, he flicked her buttons open one by one, his shirt loosening at the same time.

“Stop,” he said against her chest, and felt the natural resistance in her muscles as she did so. He smiled, sliding off the fabric on her arms, while his lips bit down towards her breasts. He knew she had no patience when it came to sex, but he was adamant about showing her a slightly different approach.

“Is this your idea of being in control?” Dae asked, keeping herself to his words anyway. She patted her fingers to her thighs, making Bongju consider the question for a moment. He bit on her nipple, making her fidget while letting out a quiet sigh.

“Just because I like to give, doesn’t mean I gave in.” He left a mark on her breast and enjoyed the huffed groan from her. “I’m still the one telling you what to do, am I not?”

She remained silent as he slid his hand into her trousers. He pinched her thigh, hard enough to leave a bruise.

Dae hissed, but the goosebumps under his touch told him everything.

“Answer me,” he said, leaning back and hovering his hand close to her cunt. Dae’s gaze met his, and his displayed cock throbbed instinctively. Bongju didn’t pay any mind to it.

Dae tilted her head, smiling despite the flicker of annoyance on her face. “Yes, you are.”

“Good.” He pulled back his hand, gifting her a small grin for that disappointed scowl, and sat down at the table. The wood was sturdy enough to be a fake original. “Now lose the trousers, and come here.”

Bongju tried his best not to show the immense enjoyment as Dae’s emotions swirled through her face. Stubborn amusement, wary interest, a hint of irritation and despite all, thorough enjoyment. Seeing her so openly show her inner world was a rare sight, one that he barely ever got a glimpse of. He wanted to cherish it just a little longer.

Dae’s clothes pooled around her ankles before she stepped out of them. Bongju regarded her as she always did with him. Her immaculately sculped body was wrapped in ink like a second skin, leaving the claw mark of the trial clean among all the covered scars. The years left behind showed on some little love handles and softer, less taut corners, but it only made her more magnetic. He followed through the perfectly visible movements of her muscles as she approached him.

He’d almost given in then. Nearly letting her have her way with him, just like she always had.

But when she stopped before him, towering over like a goddess descended waiting for mortal judgement, Bongju knew he’d have his first and only regret in his life if he did.

He smiled at Dae’s frown when, instead of her thigh, he reached for her hands. With a soft pull, he made her straddle him, knees secure on both sides of his hips, his arousal trapped between them. He breathed in from the contact, but didn’t turn his attention away from Dae’s quizzical expression.

“I want to see your face,” Bongju answered without question. Then, he almost frowned. Until that moment, he didn’t realise how much of a confession that was.

Dae always made sure that either one of them had their back to the other, or had a notable space between them if the situation didn’t allow the first option. He never minded it. Yet, he couldn’t deny that then and there, he wanted to see her. To feel her close and full.

He gave her a moment to pull away, ignoring the itching want between them.

But she stayed where she was.

“You’re not wasting away this birthday, are you?” Dae said eventually, flashing her white-gold tooth for a single moment. She smiled, and he reciprocated immediately. Her muscles were tense, but she didn’t escape his gentle attempts.

“You know me, I always make the most out of everything.”

“Are you, really?” she scoffed, moving her hips against his.

Bongju groaned, grabbing at her ass. He channelled into his legs and hands, keeping her secure in his lap.

“Don’t give me that, it’s not nearly over.”

“It sure as hell felt like it was. You're stretching this out way too much.”

Bongju’s lips quirked, and he pulled her against himself, closing his eyes from the friction, but revelling in Dae’s little noise of pleasure.

“That’s exactly the point,” he said, smiling as he kissed her again. She huffed into his mouth, yet hooked her arms around his neck. She could complain all she wanted, but she didn’t deviate from his earlier instructions. She didn’t initiate, she didn’t devour. She let him kiss her slowly, but deliberately. Soft and deep.

Bongju’s cock cried for attention between them, so he finally rocked on her hips himself.

It sent a jolt of pleasure through him. He haven’t had her straddle him like this before, so close, both with her legs and her cunt. She was completely exposed to him like never before.

He pushed her up a little by her ass, his fingers buried deep in her flesh. Dae lifted herself and let him angle her at his cock. He swallowed their synced moan as he slowly eased her onto himself. There was the tiniest force in her hips to let her have him faster, but he didn’t budge. He slipped in so ridiculously easy that he needed to gather all his willpower to keep this slow. He bit into her lips as a distraction.

Dae groaned again, pulling her arms tighter around his neck. She pressed every inch of her body against him.

“To the Hells with you,” Dae growled into his ear, and Bongju throbbed inside her.

“Stop complimenting, and ride me.”

Dae laughed, throaty and reverberating. Her voice travelled through his bones until it could crawl back up his throat. He dictated the rhythm with his hands, restraining Dae’s efforts at quickening it. She leaned back a little, and he looked up at her with a warning in his gaze.

It was still his turn.

“Relax or I’ll tie you up,” he murmured. That would have been torture for him especially, having her without her touch, but he was willing to consider it.

Dae clenched around him, making him groan low.

“I’d love to see you try.”

He, again, shivered from her close, quiet words. Having the situation out of her hands might have been foreign to her, but her method to gain the upper hand back was no rookie attempt.

Bongju held onto her ass and thrust into her.

She hummed in surprise, fingers diving into his hair. He didn’t expect her to bury her face into his neck, panting, but she did. She tried to conceal it with a vicious bite on his shoulder that made Bongju wince. He chuckled, then.

“How do you expect to see it if you hide?” he whispered into her ear, brushing his cheek against hers. Another shiver crossed her body, though she only grunted as a response. He never saw this side of her, that was so different yet so her.

Bongju couldn’t help his smile.

He thought for a moment, then reached behind, fiddling to open the table’s drawer. His hand dived into it, while his other kept urging Dae at an even pace. He sighed every now and then, doing his absolute best to prolong the end as much as he could.

His fingers finally touched a rope. Deura bless the directors same thinking for having something around in case they actually need to separate the antiques. He grabbed it while his other hand travelled from Dae’s ass to her jaw. He guided her gaze up and twitched from the flush on her cheeks and neck.

“Don’t move for a moment and put your hands behind,” he said softly, admiring her shade. If he knew she’d be like that with enough time, he would have tried to steer them here sooner.

Dae’s searching eyes were on him, her lips a little quirked, but her forehead creasing. She did as she was told, although she wouldn’t stop her hips completely.

Bongju slapped her scarless thigh and Dae chuckled. He gritted his teeth as she clenched again.

“You’re awful at taking orders,” he scoffed, tying her hands together. He spoke an inch from her face, their bare chests pressed together.

“As if you didn’t know.”

Gods, he loved that predatory gaze. Bongju pulled on the rope, a squint of Dae’s eye telling him it was tight enough. Then, he guided the remaining length of the rope forward, leaning back a little. He hooked it over her a few times to make some pattern on her torso, wrapping her shoulders and around her breasts, then eventually secured it back to her hands.

Dae watched his work with a different kind of interest. She didn’t say a word, but her cunt reacted again. Bongju blessed and cursed that he did this while inside her.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, hooking a finger in the rope lines in her back and pulling on it a little. It clearly bit into her skin in the front.

He hummed as Dae fidgeted over him.

“You should stop asking unnecessary questions. You know what you’re doing, doll,” she breathed, keeping his stare. Still, there was that hint of provocation and delight in her eyes.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in keeping you silent?”

He smiled at her as he urged her hips to move again with one hand. She resumed her movements, and with them the not-so-subtle attempts to quicken the pace. Bongju fisted the threads on her back, and she moaned a little too loud to not shut her up with a kiss.

He didn’t think he’d have her make sounds he might never have heard before. But he did, and he couldn’t get enough of hearing them, even if muffled.

Dae’s breathing finally turned uneven when he slid one of her thighs a little wider to open her up more. She completely sank into his lap, while he thrust a little up. A delicious tremble shook his body that vibrated through her as well, their gasps and groans breathless and hot.

He was close, but guessing from her constant clenching, she was much more on the edge. So Bongju twisted the threads just a touch and brought his hand up on her throat. Dae squeezed his hips hard with her legs, letting out the closest sound to a whimper.

Her head fell back, eyes closed, and face completely flushed with satisfaction. He committed her sight into his mind — her skin reddened around the lines, her neck enveloped in his hand and her face slowly contorting in pleasure.

Now, he understood why she kept this from him. It was addictive seeing her like this.

His hand softly squeezed her throat just enough to part her lips, and her hips bucked harshly. She pressed against him, trembling as he kept her from collapsing onto him.

Bongju steeled his restraint so she could ride down her high, while his just built and built and built. He nibbled on the shoulder and the crook of her neck where the rope left free space, struggling to hold back.

Only the smallest sign of easing muscles was what he needed. He groaned into her neck as he rearranged his hands, one releasing her bondage, the other holding onto her ass. He shoved Dae’s arms around his neck, rope dangling all around, while he thrust up with impatience.

She released a raspy chuckle as she gladly quickened her pace. He needed only a few moments to find his own release, Dae’s nails scratching at his scalp and pulling on his hair. He was drunk on her constant voice in his ears, and the feeling of her thrill still present. She nearly crushed him in her hold as she tensed alongside him. Their climax persisted as did they, tangled and sweaty. 

Slowly, however, they panted more evenly by the second as their blood settled.

Bongju left small pecks on Dae’s dampened body, making her scoff quietly. She played with his hair, nevertheless, and he felt like he had found something that perhaps no one before him had.

“You know, you looked so good with my hands around your neck,” he told her, as he straightened for eye contact.

Dae’s half-smile was radiant on her face.

“It’s a treat, isn’t it? But don’t get too used to it.”

[void-after-hours]

𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑, 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐑 🐾

wc: 2,711 pairing: Bongju (48) x Fang (52), m x f, subordinate x superior song: Lost On You by LP cw: soft!Fang, no sex just kissy time, hurt-comfort, heart to heart, sweet and sensual, taking place after Sasin, talks about abandonment and family issues, don't mind the divider below

Fang let the newspaper sink into her lap when she finished reading the last of the sports column.

Friday afternoon was reaching into her apartment, casting a sleepy light inside the living room. The market’s shouts died down a while ago, yet Grohan’s murmuring kept her walls and window glass alive with its soft resonation.

She listened, for just a moment.

The city was a constant companion, but she rarely stopped to hear what it had to say. Fang leaned her head against the couch’s headrest, rolling up the paper to toss it on the table.

She watched the sun warm some of her punching bag in the corner, casting its rays at the perfect angle to brighten her stack of weights, bench, and general working area. Outside, she heard the soft rumble of automobiles in the distance, rickshaws’ clicketing joining it here and there. Somewhere, a dog barked, and a song trickled out for everyone to bask in. A woman’s laugh, a man’s greeting, a cacophony of shoes gliding over the rough earth, a kid’s crying and another’s shrill joy.

Fang listened to the slowly beating heart that spilt into her living room.

She watched her wall, hearing a paper seller’s enthusiastic voice talking about yesterday’s match she just read about. It was nice, listening to him share it with someone.

Fang turned her head when a knock sounded on her door.

She glanced at the calendar on the wall, then got up, unhurried. There was no meeting planned, yet she knew exactly who to find there. She heard his steps a mile away.

Fang opened her door to Bongju. He had his regular white suit on him, gold shirt leisurely opened deep, revealing his scarred, smooth chest and the single golden chain close around his neck. He was leaning against her door frame, looking up at her.

Mejo sloshed as he lifted the liquor carton in his hand, a small smile on his lips.

“Care for a drink or two?” he asked, and she scoffed her own greeting.

Fang stood aside so he could walk inside with an ever-so-slight slouch in his shoulders.

She gravitated towards her kitchen counter, while he took a seat on her couch.

“It’s appreciated,” Fang started, taking two chilled beers out of her fridge and two glasses from her shelf.

“The drink?”

“The knock, instead of picking my lock.”

Bongju chuckled, forehead creasing as he freed two deeply coloured bottles from the box.

“It was one time—“

“Make it four,” she countered, prompting him to scratch at his brow alongside another chuckle. “Scoot.”

He gave her space to sit, still spreading just like she did.

“Huh.” Bongju plucked one little metal lid off with his grip, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “At least you were at home every time.”

“I assume that was the point, wasn’t it?”

He laughed softly, not a shred of regret colouring his face. He filled half of the glasses, then propped his elbows on his knees. Fang opened a beer next, pouring it into the mejo until it almost reached the lip of the glasses. She grabbed one between her fingers and started swirling it.

“How’s the little cub?”

Bongju’s smile pulled into a sombre curve. He watched her hand circle slowly, before he looked away and opened his jacket to pull out a tiny black and white photograph. He handed it to her casually, yet with a tinge of reverence in the motion. She gave him the drink in exchange, studying the little photo paper.

It pictured a boy, around fourteen, with his hair pomaded flat against his head, his lips pursed in a nervous, almost smile. His eyes were round, but honest.

“Gods, he’s grown,” Bongju said into his drink, watching the photograph as if the picture would slip his mind the moment he pulled it away. “He’s healthy, he has some friends, he even joined a chess club.”

“Chess?” Fang cast one final glance at the boy, Bongju’s features faintly echoing in some parts. “Are you sure he’s your kid?”

He laughed while she smiled, swirling her own drink. She handed back the photograph, and he took it in both hands, keeping his eyes on it.

“That’s what I said, too. I wasn’t half as smart at his age. He must have gotten his brain from her.” His smile receded back into that faint curve. She leaned back, slowly sipping from her drink. Bongju continued, “She, again, pressed that I should meet him.”

Fang didn’t say anything. She watched as he held that tiny paper, studying it, although he must have already memorised it.

“Will you?” she asked, taking another sip.

He didn’t hesitate. “No.”

Fang, yet again, remained silent. It wasn’t her place to say anything more, so she listened and watched. Bongju abandoned his glass on the table, letting his hand fall with the photograph.

“It would be cruel, nothing more”, he started, patting his forefinger on his picture-holding hand. “I’m not a father, Dae. I never was and never will be. I told her if he ever finds himself in the wrong — in our kind of company, I’ll take care of him, but that is all.”

“Let’s hope you never meet, then.” Fang raised her glass, and Bongju scoffed softly, mirroring her.

“Let’s.”

He took a moderate swig, wiping his lips with his drink-holding hand, then putting it back down. He lifted the picture again, both hands cradling it.

“She is right to want that, though,” Fang offered, not missing the very subtle movement of his jaw. “And you’re right to refuse.”

Bongju smiled, the words probably little consolation. However, he glanced back at her with a gratefulness that she rarely found in him. Clan life was never kind to families, let alone outsiders who became associated with them. He made the only call he could to make the most out of the situation. Because Bongju was born into this life, and even if some, in very rare instances, did leave them, none could leave it behind. Especially when he never wanted to. An occasional meeting to exchange financial stability for some crumbs of insight on the boy wasn’t much for getting Bongju’s kid to live without the consequences of what he was and always would be.

Which still didn’t make it simple, not to a man who was so poorly versed in abandonment.

Fang hummed, settling her drink on her thigh. “She hasn’t pressed the meeting recently. What’s changed?”

Bongju, eventually, slipped the photo back into his jacket’s hidden pocket, right over his heart.

“He wrote me a letter. Well, to ‘Da’.”

The sun slowly drew back, changing the light’s colour into an ashen yellow. A dimness loomed in the corner, waiting for its turn.

“Did you read it?”

“Didn’t need to. He thinks his father is some faraway stationed hero who may or may not be dead. There’s two things he could write to a man like that; a fuck you or a proud of you. None of which is worth risking their peace for.”

Ever so phragmatic. Fang listened to his words, which had the rasp of a voice only decades of chainsmoking could develop, an identical timber to hers. She watched him, troubled, but controlled and confident. All the time he had come to this apartment after the meetings and tried to find solace in her body, conflicted and crumbling, she’d let him, knowing it would restore him. It would make him stay himself. And yet, now, she wasn’t really needed for that. Not anymore.

Fang followed Bongju’s movement as he emptied his glass, combing back his hair just so it jumped back into his eyes.

He smiled a little, then glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry,” he said, watching her take a sip and raise a brow at him. “For always dumping this on you. And for the lock.”

“I don’t mind.” Fang gave a small smile of her own.

“You should.”

“Maybe.” She leaned over, taking his glass and starting to fill it up again. “But I don’t. And I swore to take care of him if you’d go first, so it’s not like the info wouldn’t be needed. He sounds like a good kid.”

Bongju’s smile widened just a touch, his eyes following Fang’s preparations.

“He is.” He huffed, as if to cleanse the gloom out of his tone. He rarely, if ever, agonised, and he didn’t like to bask in self-pity long. So he leaned back when Fang gave him his drink, looking up at her and slightly stretching his back. “So who won yesterday?”

“The new blood with a clean right hook. It was over under a minute.”

He made an impressed grimace, draining some of his drink. Fang remembered how he would have thrown hands a decade before if he’d heard he lost a bet like that. Yet, he only seemed contemplative now.

The slowly gathering nest of crow’s feet beside his eyes deepened ever so slightly in the last years, and a ghost of a constant smile jewelled his lips with permanent wrinkles. However, she only noticed the faint crease that etched into his clear forehead now.

Fang placed down her glass and turned back to put a finger under his chin, gently tilting his head up so she could kiss him. He breathed in softly, momentarily hesitant before he leaned into it. She didn’t intrude or play around. She simply kissed him.

Bongju’s eyes opened in sync with her leaning back a little.

“What was that?” he asked, searching her face while she retrieved her drink.

“You seemed like you could use one.”

Bongju’s hint of a crease turned more definitive.

“You don’t kiss people.”

“I kissed you before.”

He chuckled, half-incredulous, half-ready to object. He watched her drink, and his mind visibly hunted through his memories. In less than a minute, Bongju’s round, but honest eyes gleamed, and he laughed, throwing his head back.

“In Gyeong’s changing room?” His question was clearly rhetorical. “Yeah, that was mean.”

Fang chuckled, too. “I won’t deny that.”

She held his eyes that would always watch hers. She could find their years together in his gaze all the time. The laughs, the fun, the fights, the losses. But never regret. For all they had ever done, he would never reminisce about ‘what could have been.’ He would laugh and cry at the times lost to the best and the worst possible outcomes, but he’d never wish for a change that wouldn’t come.

Fang watched him smile, welcoming and waiting. So she leaned back onto his lips.

Just like before, he breathed in softly, yet now he wasn’t hesitant. He moulded his lips to hers, and although somehow surprised, he kept it soft and gentle as she started it.

Fang made sure not to kiss or be kissed since she decided to strive to become part of the clan’s leading circle. She didn’t need it, she didn’t crave it. With a kiss, the weed of attachment would always take root in everyone, no matter the circumstance. And try as one might, none could truly rid oneself of that.

Yet, there and then, it felt just right.

She leaned back against the couch as Bongju slowly rotated over her. Gentle came more naturally to him than her, but even to him, this seemed uncharted territory. Once someone told Fang that she could grow strong and invincible, but that wouldn’t mean she’d be strong enough to be tender. Harm and violence would come easily for everyone, after all. And as she caressed her fingers down Bongju’s neck with a hint of itch for a scratch, she yet again recognised how right they were.

Still, the urge was a simple echo from long ago, nothing more. Something she didn’t need to ignore, because it went away on its own. Not because she would never have it again, but because she didn’t need it in the moment.

Bongju’s fingertips warmed her face as they trailed it, and she mirrored his movement. He touched her where, even if without words, he wasn’t truly allowed before. His thumb stroked her cheek, glided into her hair, and caressed her neck. Every little and notable scar her tattoos covered was glided over with his quiet touch.

And so she, too, felt at his earnings. The fused memories of an assignment went sideways, an argument turned heated, or a trial survived. Fang slowly slithered her fingers in his shirt to find the contours of a deep-seated claw mark, from his shoulders to his ribs. He ever so softly shivered, but it wasn’t one she was used to. He leaned into her palm when she put it flat against his chest. He reached a little inside her shirt, too, without truly travelling far.

Bongju evenly swayed their kiss to an end, parting just enough so he could once again search her gaze.

He looked through her face, fingers constantly playing in her hair. Fang recognised the twinkle in his eyes when he was debating something, just to decide to hell with it at the end.

“Have you ever loved me?” he asked, tilting his head without any true strain in his voice.

Fang pulled her fingers up on his throat, to brush her thumb around his chin, then his bottom lip.

“No,” she said. “I trusted you.”

Bongju’s lips pulled into a smile, and she knew he understood. Love was easy, love was fickle, love was a lie. Love was abandonment. Fang was once said she loved the children, her friends, and some of her family. She told them they were wrong. When love was pain and deception, how could it forge devotion or loyalty? Love was a cruel comfort. It wasn’t familiarity, understanding or trust. Love was less than lust. Love was loss.

And all Bongju offered, time after time, was gain. So, no, she didn’t love him. Never would. But she would trust him.

He brought his hand over her chin, too, mirroring her gesture of brushing her lip before kissing her again. She tasted the small scar on his upper lip that he received during one of their arguments, many, many years ago. He, in exchange, caressed the faded little scratch on her jaw she got from another.

When he leaned back again, he put his hand over hers that touched his chest, and guided it back under his shirt, right at the claw mark. He smiled, sliding back more so he could position himself into her lap, propped against her thigh she kept up as she put a foot on the low table’s edge. He fiddled with her fingers on his skin, as if to poke them for a caress.

Fang laughed, amused.

He didn’t need to nudge, though, because she caressed the wound over again, slowly.

“We should move in together,” he said, resting one of his arms on her torso, fingers barely but touching the exposed skin of her chest.

Once again, Fang laughed, earning a chuckle from Bongju, too.

“Should we now?”

Bongju shrugged, nonchalant. “It would make sense. We practically do, already, when we’re at the Peak. And don’t you get lonely sometimes? Because I sure do. Call it what you want, but I wouldn’t be against coming home to someone from time to time.” He absentmindedly drew something on her skin with his fingertip. “To you, just to be clear.”

Fang scoffed good-naturedly, starting another circle on his chest. The sun fully pulled back, leaving a soft, hazy blanket of light on the world. She could see Bongju’s outline, more than his actual form. He still smiled at her, though, clearly being okay with anything she’d say. He didn’t wait to hear what he wanted, he wanted to hear what was. Or what could be.

She could have cut him loose many times. As could he. Yet, they carved out a place beside each other, coming back to it, over and over again. They had less than something, but more than nothing. She knew, whatever happened in the future, they wouldn’t truly change. Not in this.

That, she was absolutely certain.

So Fang pushed his head a little up with her thigh, making him huff a chuckle. “Get your things, then.”

[void-after-hours]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 🐾

wc: 5,701 pairing: Bongju (20) x Fang (24), m x f, subordinate x superior song: FU In My Head by Cloudy June cw: over the roof obscene and explicit, dom!fem, sub!male, violance, a little more graphic butt stuff, a bit of cock torture i guess, nasty as hell, fingering (m. receiving), loads of cursing’ loads of bitchin’, boys being boys, yet agian public sex cuz they can’t help it (someone else’s room prompt), bondage, multiple orgasms, oral (m. recieving), Fang is an animal

Bongju watched Fang throw Hangman, the clan’s bulkiest man, over her shoulder in private awe. The Chokehold boomed with the roaring crowd around him, veterans shouting down the fifteen feet deep fighting pit for Hangman to get himself together, while youngsters cheered Fang on constantly. She wasn’t fazed by the angry old bears, drenched in sweat, and adrenaline shining on her face. No, instead, Fang let an arrogant smile slip as she dived onto the rough floor with Hangman in her grasp.

Bongju yelled an encouragement, following Fang’s movement of pinning the man down with her weight.

“Wouldn’t be in your place, man,” Gyeong told him, wincing from the sight. He circled his neck, continuing the mandatory stretches.

“Because you’re a pussy?”

Gyeong narrowed his eyes at Bongju’s comment, flashing a flat stare. He welcomed it with a grin.

“And a pig.” Shen slung a leg up the vibrating iron railing beside them, loosening her calf with one leg completely straight. Her gaze remained on Fang performing a chokehold in the ring in a way that left her veteran opponent breathless immediately. A wicked tactic, given that she used his own signature move.

Just like Shen, Bongju couldn’t take his eyes off of the woman warping around Hangman, making him tap out barely after a few seconds. Something no one in their generation could so easily achieve, let alone without their Blessings.

Gyeong clicked his tongue, keeping his eyes away from the pit. “What’s so bad in some fun and games?”

“Betting on lying to someone is only fun in your head,” Inseo joined in from beside Shen. She stood as always, all high and mighty, an arm's length away, as if not to blend with them. And she did not stretch, even though she was going down next.

The crowd grumbled and whistled in tandem.

Gyeong scoffed. “Just because you can’t get that pole out of your ass, it doesn’t mean everyone lost their sense of humour. Plus, look at Ju, do you think he’s going to lie when telling the big woman that he’d rail her?”

“Oh? Thank the Heavens, you can read my mind, Gyeong. Though I’m hurt you never mentioned your Ma was into Southern dick.”

Bongju chuckled when Gyeong tried to grab his neck in a hold, but failed as he slipped away. He managed to shove his head on the side, though.

“Fuck you, Ju,” he grunted.

Bongju kept slamming his feet to the ground along the crowd in the clan’s way of applause. Fang stood victoriously and helped the ragged Hangman to his feet. She smiled at the veteran with such palpable confidence that Bongju could have sunk his teeth into it. Her arm and back flexed from the strain under the training tunic that stuck to her body, and her triceps shaped into the most fascinating definition. He wet his lips, looking back at his friends instead.

“You’re too flat for me, sorry man,” he teased, and his friend huffed a laugh with Shen on his right.

Inseo placed her jacket on the railing, revealing her sleeveless, white training tunic, just like Fang’s. She shot them a sideways glance, not sharing their mood.

“Tragic,” Gyeong said, draping an arm around Bongju’s shoulder and pulling him closer. “You should be more convincing with Fang, though.”

“She’s got a handful of admirers, I don’t think she’ll be that hard to convince.” Shen’s addition earned one quick laugh from Gyeong.

“Yeah, admirers for being a beast. Not a sex symbol. People are shitting their pants from her before they’d ever think about fucking her.”

“Like you?”

Gyeong turned to Inseo, visibly appalled. “I’m not afraid of her.”

“Sure,” she said, a knowing smile widening her lips. Her clean beauty always grew an edge whenever she did so. “You never fear to face or play our seniors.”

Bongju swallowed back a chuckle while Fang seemed to finish her conversation with Hangman, both still in the pit. Someone scurried past their little group, hurrying with a sturdy, long rope over their shoulder.

“Aren’t you a true ride or die for the big woman? Defending her dignity and whatnot.” Gyeong huffed. “I respect our seniors, but she’s still one of us, Seo, and friends mess around. Why don’t you just fucking relax for once? Come on! Tell us, will Ju have a chance with her?” He squished Bongju’s cheeks, turning his head towards Inseo, away from Fang. “He’s a pretty thing, even with these skinny muscles and the newborn-smooth face. He should have at least one shot, right?”

Inseo frowned, tightening the golden sash on her hips. “How should I know?”

“Because you’re her closest friend? Don’t you ever talk about girls or boys or whatever?”

Bongju couldn’t hold back his mirth when Inseo’s face bled into bewilderment. Instead of answering, she grabbed the iron railing and jumped over, right into the pit. She arrived with a heavy thud, a perlescent white bear materialising around her faintly. Fang greeted her with a smile and accepted what Bongju assumed was a congratulation.

“Stuck up bitch,” Gyeong scrunched his nose, letting Bongju shake off his arm. “Snobbing around like she’s the Prime herself.”

“You’re not exactly a humble, or for that matter, too-long bearable company either.” Bongju did not cower from his stare, Shen nodding along on his side.

“Whoa, okay, that’s nice, you two.”

Bongju grinned at him again, turning back to the other side of the Chokehold, where Fang was just finishing her climb out of the pit, hopping over the railing. She was soaking wet, skin reddened and bruised where it was exposed, even the tattoos on her right arm, and half of her neck seemed raw from all the grabbing and wrestling. Her tie must have snapped in two, because she slicked back her hair that fell into her face.

A bookie approached her immediately, probably laying out the amount that was collected on her winning.

“You’re really going?” Shen prompted, not paying much attention to the sulking Gyeong.

Bongju shrugged, smiling. “I lost the brawl, so I’m doing it. It’s not like she’ll have more than a laugh out of it.”

That earned an agreeing grimace from Shen. She didn’t ask why he joined the bet — everyone knew Bongju was always up for one, no matter how silly it might sound. And he always kept his end.

Fang waved away the bookie, visibly gravitating towards the changing rooms.

So, Bongju shouldered through the sweating, reeking crowd before Gyeong could have started another of his reprimands. He might have been a friend, but that didn’t make him any less of an ass. He spat on Inseo’s behaviour, even though they acted the same, only she refined her words better than him. Which Bongju usually preferred over his friend. He and Inseo were born in the same year, after all, so they were meant to get along. And he liked her well enough.

He finally stumbled out of the suffocating body jungle, the complex, stinging smell of cigarettes, alcohol and working people twisting his nose. He was used to it when he stood inside, but being an outsider meant experiencing it as one.

Fang disappeared in the narrow hallway of the changing rooms when the crowd began its shouting match again.

Bongju took a deep breath, jogging after her.

He agreed to the bet to fool around, but didn’t actually think through how it would play out if he lost. He wasn’t shy, nor particularly worried about being that upfront about such things. Especially when it wasn’t truly a lie. Gyeong might have been a lot of things, but he wasn’t wrong about Bongju. He had occasionally found himself in a daydream or a fantasy with Fang. Not his brightest moments, but what was there to do? He was a healthy young man, and she was the youngest White Clutch with a reputation crossing borders and a build breaking biases.

Who wouldn’t have been the same?

Still, he was cautious as he walked through the corridor, old paint faded with age on the walls, searching among the many doors with every person’s name marked on cheap little plaques. Clan members were used to the co-ed changing area, yet those who frequented the Chokehold more, earned a private room for late nights or the like.

Bongju passed Fang’s door when he found it clearly closed. Irritatingly, he grew more nervous when he turned towards the little porch area.

There, he finally laid eyes on her. She was leaning against the well, head sinking down so she could sprinkle water at her nape. Her eyes sat closed, yet she let out a satisfied hum from the supposed coolness of the water. Some droplets travelled down her half-tattooed neck, through her chest and soaked further her clothes. She, of course, did not wear any extra coverage under it.

Bongju blinked, forcing air out of his lungs.

Dear Deura, get a grip.

He dragged his leg a little, so his shoes made a noise on the asphalt as he walked closer. Fang opened her eyes slowly, lids not crawling fully open.

“Nice match,” Bongju said, smiling.

“Thanks.”

And there they were. He didn’t know where to put the slight distance in her tone that wasn’t really present a day ago. They weren’t forever buddies, but Bongju liked to think they got along well. Even though only a year in training with the crews, Bongju was called along by Fang for a significant amount of time. He liked to believe she trusted him. So what was the matter?

Bongju found the silence way too stretched out. “Got a minute?”

Fang turned away, continuing the cooling of her skin, the redness giving space to her summer tan in patches. “Sure,” she said, reaching for her jar on the stone well, but when she opened it, even Bongju could see it was empty.

He thought for a moment. “I can get you some aloe.”

Fang looked back at him, as if contemplating whether he was worthy of her time or not. Then, she pushed herself off the well, nodding towards him with her scarred chin.

“Lead the way then,” she said, and Bongju did so. He knew Gyeong to have many stored up, given his habit of getting his ass kicked bad. And Bongju almost wanted a retaliation for getting into such a situation because of his lousy friend. Not including his own fault in it.

He was getting petty, but he couldn’t not be.

Fang always walked close to people as someone who tried to rule both of their auras, yet the proximity only brought her scent into Bongju’s nose. Tar, herbs, sweat and something so her. It should have been revolting, yet he couldn’t help revelling in it whenever he caught a whiff of it.

“So, can you now predict when my batch runs out, or did you want something?” Fang asked, and Bongju cursed himself internally. He became distracted, again.

“Yeah, no, I did. Uh, we’re here, though.”

He pushed his tongue to the back of his mouth, keeping it shut. How could he almost stutter? He was probably losing it because that stupid bet made him way too aware of everything about Fang. She might have had something against him in the moment, but his attraction did not disappear from it.

Bongju entered Gyeong’s fairly messy room first. He spotted the jars immediately, stacked dangerously unstable on each other, high on a crooked shelf.

“Here,” he said, throwing the highest one to Fang, who caught it without trouble. She let the door click closed behind her, staring at Bongju under those half-lidded eyes. She shrugged, looking away eventually as she opened the jar.

“Well, whatever. I wanted to talk to you anyway. Bald Yun assigned you to be the team’s head on our next assignment. Just told me before the match.”

For a second, Bongju forgot his bet.

“What? But you’re the head. You’re the White Clutch.”

It was her team. She was the youngest team leader, and yet he was assigned to them?

“He said this needs a more subtle shrewdness than brute force, and you’re apparently promising.” Fang applied some of the gel on her arm, ringed fingers roaming her skin in circles where the redness stubbornly resided. Her tone had an odd… what exactly? An underlying edge that Bongju wasn’t yet familiar with.

“That’s an honour then, I guess.”

“You guess?” Fang shot him a glare. Whoa. Was she pissed?

“I—“

“What did you want?”

She opened her lapels a little wider on her chest to tend to that area too. Bongju’s eyes dropped to her hand, massaging the gel into her skin, nearly sneaking under the clothing. Her nipples were visible through the fabric, perking and an excellent reminder to look the fuck away.

He trained his eyes on her waiting face. “I, um…”

“You, um…” she mocked after visibly getting bored with the short pause. Not a muscle changed on her cold expression. Her every little particle screamed a ‘Spit it out.’

Bongju pushed his tongue to his mouth. He cursed himself for the momentary brain damage. Because he wasn’t shy, nor particularly worried being that upfront about such a thing. He only faltered for a minute.

“I want to fuck you.”

Fang lifted her dark gaze at him, clearly not yet sure if she’d continue the applying. Bongju put his weight on one leg, hooking his thumbs into the crook of his suspenders. His heart thundered frustratingly fast.

“I wanted to tell you that I want to fuck you,” he repeated, and Fang now clearly abandoned the idea of caring more for her bruises.

The crowd roared outside, every noise filtering through the thin walls.

Fang flashed him a half-smile, revealing the white-gold tooth she had replaced the absence of her own with. The little thing gleamed smokey, giving a greyish twinkle to it, its edge chiselled a little more piercing than a regular one.

She raised her brows at him. “Flattering.”

“Is it?”

Bongju gave a smile of his own, but that slight unease of something being amiss did not ease. He straightened as she sauntered closer step by step, as if to approach a prey.

“Shouldn’t it be? Did you expect something else?”

He did. He still waited for the laugh to burst out and leave him a little humiliated, but in a good mood nevertheless. Yet, instead, he got Fang advancing on him inch by inch and, godsdamned annoyingly, himself backing in sync.

He couldn’t take it back anymore, so the only way was to own his words. “I didn’t really expect anything.”

Fang scoffed, still smiling that haughty one.

“I doubt it. You sought me out after a match, when everyone is still high on the thrill, and brought me to room. You expected something.” Her eyes still sat half-revealed, but her smile turned just a touch more wicked. Bongju’s heel knocked against the wall, and he struggled to swallow back his heart into his chest. Fang raised then titled her head, looking down to size him up like a pimp would their best whore. “I thought you wanted to fuck me.”

And with that, Bongju saw his error. She misunderstood him.

He held her gaze, doing his best to control the heat that took over his body. “I’m not afraid of you,” he said.

Fang loomed over him, tantalisingly close. Her ruling scent invaded all Bongju’s senses, almost turning him dizzy from her presence. The match outside worked the crowd up, the members’ noise not leaving a silent moment.

She chuckled the way she would in the ring.

“I can believe that.”

She hooked a finger in his slightly unbuttoned shirt and ripped the rest off with one swift movement downward. Bongju winced as her short nail scratched up his front, but did everything not to flinch from the jolt of surprise. The burning feeling stayed with him even after she left his skin, and clicked one of his suspenders free. She watched his face intently.

“Still so sure of yourself?” she asked, keeping her expression somehow neutral even with that smile. Her voice dropped just a little, breath warm and ridiculously arousing on his face.

Still, he couldn’t wrap his head around that slight distance in her tone.

“I am. But are you?”

Fang freed the suspenders' other side, chuckling again.

“Such a gentleman brat. You’re not the charmer of the clan for nothing, are you? What, do you think I don’t hear people talking?”

Bongju’s breath hitched when Fang pressed to him tight, snatching his wrists behind his back and pushing it to the radiator’s iron pole. He cursed in dismay when he instinctively rubbed his hardness against her, every inch he had been watching and fantasising about now touching him through an insignificant amount of fabric.

“What are you doing?” he managed, his shoulders straining as he tried to yank his arms back, to no avail. His blood rushed in his veins while Fang tied his suspender around his wrists and onto the pole that bit into his back. He yet again winced as the knot clawed into his skin.

Fang laughed quick and short, unfazed by any of his reaction.

“You said you want to fuck me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, now completely earnest. He once again pulled on his wrists, but the knot was way too expertly tied to budge. He burned against Fang. “But I can’t do it like this.”

“Shame. Maybe next time you take it when you have a chance instead of waiting around to be handed to you.”

Next time? Take it? Bongju huffed, swallowing a laugh, when he pulsed from the sheer idea of both. Fang flashed her white-gold teeth again as she smiled, clearly acutely aware of his body’s reaction. Yet, his mind did not escape him enough to miss the words two faces.

“Wait,” he frowned, keeping her eyes, but still shivering when she unbuttoned his trousers. “What do you mean handed to me?”

Fang didn’t answer as she dropped his trousers on the floor, exposing him completely. He sucked in a breath when her eyes yet again roamed through him, head tilting.

Was this handing him a chance? What chance? He was tied up to be at her disposal, but he initiated. She wasn’t interested in him, that much he could tell, but then it just didn’t make sense. Sure, she was just as infamous for sleeping around as he or, frankly, most in the clan. He made his intentions clear and only waited for approval to act. So what was handed to him? The only thing that he didn’t ask for was Bald Yun’s random…

“Are you talking about the assignment?” he asked, nearly amused. That, however, didn’t last long as she pushed one of her legs under his and propped her feet up on a stool beside them. Bongju stumbled a little, clueless and feverish from excitement, with a pinch of wariness, while he was forced to put some of his weight on Fang’s thigh, which held his leg. He was almost lifted to his toes.

Her face did not change a bit. “Is that what you figured?”

Bongju was never self-conscious, given his awareness of his handsomeness and natural ability to feel at ease around others. Yet, with a full erection an inch from Fang, and his legs spread apart like a broken doll’s, he did feel his mortality descend back into his body.

And the worst of it all — he wasn’t riled up because of the position. His breath turned ragged because of the lack of touch.

Fang wasn’t giving him more of her thoughts, so he desperately tried to piece together what to expect next on his own.

As if she found something on his face she was searching for, Fang leaned closer, finally palming his balls. Bongju let out a heavy breath, trying and failing to reach out to her. He leaned into her touch that was anything but careful and gentle.

“I didn’t even touch you yet,” she mused, and he bit back his bottom lip when she tightened her grip, causing a tinge of pain.

Bongju never actively sought it, let alone longed for it. Even in his mind, he didn’t picture much similarity to what was happening. But he not only did not oppose pain in that moment, he could have unravelled just from Fang’s maddeningly vile gaze at him.

She was said to be a tough lover, and still, Bongju couldn’t help but feel it personal. He squirmed as she kneaded his balls, paying excruciatingly close attention to never touch his occasionally twitching erection.

However, his still-working part of his brain munched on the fact that he didn’t understand. She tortured him, she intentionally worked him up, and she did it to him especially. She wasn’t just playing around because he told her something ridiculous. She was pissed. But why?

He watched her ever-challenging face, holding those dark, unreadable eyes. She taunted him, but for what? That morning… that morning she was told he was going to be the team’s head. 

Bongju couldn’t help but moan in part-agony, part-pleasure as she leaned towards the table beside them, spreading his leg further.

He didn’t understand it. She was his senior, she was his mentor, she was his role model and the muse of his late-night reveries. She could and did whatever she wanted. He watched, already breathless, as she dipped her finger into the jar, and he sucked in a deeper breath.

She acted so viciously because he questioned her about the assignment? No, that didn’t make sense. She wasn’t worried about him being put in her place. Whatever she was doing, it wasn’t, after all, about torture or teaching a lesson.

It was about control.

She…

No.

She was..

“…Jealous?” he breathed, and Fang narrowed her predatory eyes ever so subtly. His heart drummed alongside the nasty shouts outside the room, and he yanked on his bondage, causing the pole to vibrate as she brought her drenched finger under him. Fang remained unfazed as he trashed before her just once. “Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t ask Bald Yun to give me the job.”

Fang’s scarred forehead creased as her brow lifted. She pulled her finger through Bongju’s ass, and his shiver reached his bones.

“No one asks for the job,” she said.

He didn’t have the time to brace himself as she slid her finger in. He gasped, loud, while she cupped her hand over his mouth. He barely noticed the voices somewhere close to the door, Fang’s circling inside, wiping his mind almost completely empty. He never felt filled before, let alone painfully good. His skin littered with goosebumps, and the promise of a foreign kind of ecstasy trickled through his body. He buckled towards Fang’s achingly close, fully clothed body, but she firmly kept her hand over his mouth.

“Already so vocal, yeah?” She bent her finger, and he shuddered, groaning from a jolt of pleasure behind, and a hard pulse in the front. Fang glanced down for a moment, then locked her eyes back to his. “Oh, you’re not gonna do that. The only way you’ll cum first will be on my fingers.”

Bongju moaned against her palm from the implication of more. Even his wildest fantasy didn’t prepare him for this. He faintly heard some people chanting Inseo’s name outside, while the closer voices grew cleaner.

He yanked on his arms again when Fang experimentally pushed on a spot inside him. An intense, yet not at all unpleasant, wave shook his body, enough to clench his leg around her thigh. Bongju whimpered loudly against her hand, eyes screaming at her.

“I’m not a competition, godsdamnit,” he tried, his voice muffled.

He would have gladly submitted to her, but he just couldn’t let that go.

Fang scoffed, almost impressed? “Playing stupid doesn’t suit you. We’re all competition here.”

She pushed her hand more against his mouth when he moaned from her constant brushing against his balls. She knew how to keep pumping and stroking him while simultaneously stimulating his testicles.

“No, we fucking aren’t.” His cock twitched, and he arched forward in desperate need of her around him. “You want to be team head, be it.”

Bongju tried to pull Fang’s thigh closer with his leg as the next wave of an intimidating climax throbbed through him. He pushed his head to the iron pole, the tingling in his body near unbearable. She reached deeper and found a sweet spot that made him even more vocal, forcing him to grab the pole behind so he wouldn’t stumble. His cock twitched, threatening a release, as his body tensed into trembles. Fang freed his mouth to grab his cock, her touch both a blessing and the truest damnation he ever experienced. She knew just well when to squeeze hard enough, so he wouldn’t stain her, forcing back part of his orgasm while the rest crashed down on his body with full force.

Bongju bent into a mess as much as he could, holding onto the pole for dear life. Fang leaned into his face, still abusing his sensitive spot.

“Cheritable, aren’t we?” she asked, tightening around his cock until his throbbing receded. “You don’t toss around something your superior trusted you with. I don’t need the job.”

Then what did she need? She was pissed at him because he wasn’t grateful? No. Bongju noticed her love of the thrill early on as he grew up beside her. She didn’t like him being chosen, but she sincerely didn’t want him to give the role to her. He watched her dark eyes and realised she wanted to fight for it. She wanted to earn it. She wanted him to be a worthy opponent to take it from.

She needed resistance with the perfect balance of submission.

Something Bongju was born to be.

“Then stop being a bitch about it,” he forced out as he gathered some of himself.

He found an earnest smile on his lips, seasoning his words into a challenge. Deciphering her reignited an eagerness in him. He was going to wrestle her over the control of the situation, even if sometimes illusorily, and play her game. After all, Grey Fang’s attention was all on him. What more could he have?

Fang seemed to scoff, but as she kept studying his face, her sound became more of a chuckle. Clearly, she read him and seemed to like what she saw.

“Keep talking like that if you want to get your mouth stuffed,” she warned. She dropped her feet off, so she could kick the stool under Bongju, right as his knees gave up and he collapsed on it. He hissed as his hands dragged lower on the pole, shoulders already burning. His ass, also, stayed tender enough to make him curse softly, but not enough to wipe his smile off.

“You could have done that from the start. You like me talking.”

Fang shoved his legs apart with hers, looking down on him for a moment. His throat turned raw only from that intense gaze, but he kept holding it. Even so, he spread on the stool, as if to make himself comfortable.

Fang’s sideways smile found her desirable lips again.

“I’ve been read, too, I see,” she stated nonchalantly, descending between Bongju’s thighs. Only she could make the movement seem like she had just gave permission to want her.

The voices disappeared from before the door, and the crowd released it’s new wave of cheering. The ground resonated slightly from the stomping, travelling up the wooden stool and driving Bongju even more insane. His overly sensitive body didn’t take the subtle vibration well, and he could barely keep his mind straight as he watched Fang wipe her hand on one of Gyeong’s scattered fabrics, then tie her hair back with the first bondage she found.

An ever-so-subtle tremble already ruled Bongju’s being from her kneeling before him, but when she flashed him another smile, he had nothing left to do but swallow.

“You really are promising,” she stated, and the ghost of her breath on his cock would have been enough for Bongju to see stars. But he wasn’t going to waste away hearing her praise him the first time.

“Oh, don’t tease me.” Despite everything, he grinned at her, although his words leaked a touch of sincerity. He was losing his mind the longer she kept her hands and mouth to herself, yet the waiting left an intriguing aftertaste on his tongue, too.

Fang laughed, and he swelled with pride.

She leaned closer to his erection. “That’s not for you to decide.”

Fang dragged her nails through his thigh, leaving behind angry red marks, clearly enjoying the way he fidgeted from it. He did his best to somehow shoo her hand in the way of his exruciatingly abandoned croch, but with his hands tied, and his eyes strictly keeping Fang’s, it was a lost cause from the beginning. Yet, he kept going, making her smile widen. Just when he was about to throw his head back in frustration, she brought a palm around his cock.

Finally — fucking finally she touched him. He didn’t care as he whimpered, the first stroke only oil to the fire. She didn’t waste much time before she accompanied her harsh handywork with a generous, long lick of her tongue.

“All The Damned Four Hells,” Bongju moaned deep in his throat. 

Without further ado, Fang leaned forward to take him all, and he groaned from the enveloping warmth of her mouth. She played him up with her tongue, circling and sucking and driving him absolutely insane. The tinglings from before returned, even his toes twitching alongside his cock. She felt so good, he could only muster up one thrust to keep up the resistance game.

Fang didn’t even flinch, humming while he cursed from the feeling of the back of her throat. She put a hand over his abdomen, right where she had scratched him and pushed him down firmly. He winced, but took a shuddering breath the next moment as Fang continued just as deep.

And that was all.

Bongju had nothing more in him than to let her do whatever she wanted. Even if the crowd wouldn’t have been as deafeningly loud as it was, he wouldn’t have cared. His voice ran free with moans, pants and guttural groans as Fang practically devoured him. His wrist grew raw from the bondage as he strained against it, yet he could only find it an incentive to keep at it. His eyes almost closed from the once again building pleasure in his veins, his crotch and under his skin, but he couldn’t take his gaze off the woman before him. Every movement writhed through her bursting muscles that she worked into a breathtaking sculpture, and which she, without question, would continue growing. Her skin was still damp, and her lapel opened, arms flexing with the delicious pumps. 

He wasn’t… he couldn’t… 

Fang flicked her eyes up and met his gaze.

Bongju’s breath hitched. With her next move, she stroked him into a tremble yet again. He desperately tried to free his hands to grasp into her hair, but the only thing he could do was to break under his pleasure, and slip a ‘Dae’ out of his throat. He gripped the pole until his fingers cramped, his orgasm reaching a new height of true release. Fang’s sight of watching him while he filled her mouth, insistent and intense, made him eventually lose. and drop back his head, shutting his eyes. The crowd, therefore the ground, the stool and his body constantly vibrated, erasing his sense of time.

He couldn’t recall when he stopped shaking, or when Fang’s warmth disappeared around him. The only thing he noticed was her fingers sneaking into his hair to gather his locks, and tug his lips to hers with a sudden vehemence. Bongju whimpered as she pushed her tongue, and with it all of his release into his mouth. She held his head as if he would have ever tried to pull back.

Fang invaded his mouth without mercy, conquering his tongue, until the only thing he could do was swallow. His parched throat burned from the salty, sour taste of himself, yet he moaned at her lips.

When she made sure nothing was left, she detached from him.

Bongju followed her leaning back without shame, but the bondages kept him back. He breathed in heavy gulps of air, not yet sure what to make of Fang’s sparkling, for once smiling eyes that watched him closely. She made a raspy chuckling sound, and wiped a drop off his chin with the back of her forefinger.

“Well, that was fun,” she said, and stood, licking off her finger. She clearly stated everything she wanted, and from the last wicked glance she spared him before turning away, she was anticipating something from him now on.

Bongju croaked when he spoke, “Are you just leaving me like this?”

Fang circled back one of her shoulders, reaching for the door handle. She clearly smiled.

“You have your Blessing. You had it the whole time.”

And that was true. Even if he still needed to practice, he could have used it to get out of his bondage easily. He would have hated to burn up all his totems for that, because he wasn’t yet good enough to save them up well. But he clearly had no other choice, given how Fang reached for the handle without looking back.

Bongju wet his parched lips, huffing.

“Next time—” he started a little louder to raise his voice over the noises. He swallowed to ease his throat, and smiled when Fang looked back from the side of her eyes for a moment, the door already creaked open. “Next time, it’s my turn.”

Her scoff flashed her white-gold tooth again, narrowing her eyes but not concealing the faintly impressed tinge on her face.

“What next time, doll?” she asked, and left the room to leave the question lingering in Bongju’s mind for a long, long time.

[void-after-hours]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋🐺

wc: 1,794 pairing: Lonel x Odena, m x f, established relationship song: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves cw: kinda explicit, slight dom!fem, almost werewolf transformation, fingering, praise kink, dry humping, bestial, a hint of oral, they're fun, porn without plot

Odena gasped into Lonel’s mouth as he pushed her to the wall, slamming the bedroom’s door closed.

She moaned into the next kiss, the friction of his rough jeans maddening between her legs, tight skirt slipping up and up on her waist. Thighs bare and locked around his, she rocked her hips over just to make both of them quiver.

Lonel kept kissing her deep and hard, pulling them over with fumbling steps. He backed with Odena flush against his front and without ever letting her far. His hand firm at the back of her head, the other roaming her overheated body, his leg finally knocked into the bedframe. He plopped down, grunting from the involuntary space between them. Odena smiled at the swell of his chapped, thin lips and the lipstick that smeared it, staining his short moustache and beard alike.

Skirt hiking high over her belly button, she quickly lowered herself into his lap, the bulge in his pants deliciously rubbing against her throbbing core. Fingers dwelling deep into his hair, she pulled on his blond locks to leave pecks and bites on his throat. He reeked of sweat, smoke, patchuli and cheap beer, yet she drank it all in. Her nails audibly scratched at his scalp, coaxing out a growl from his throat. His calloused hands caressed her revealed thighs, sending shivers down Odena’s spine. She smiled onto his tar-scented, pale neck when he sighed into her hair as he palmed her ass under the langerie. His fingers dug into her flesh, and her eyes fluttered closed from the sensation.

She brushed her face to his nape, reveling in the strained twich under her cunt. She ached to have him inside, clenching over thin air. And like so many times before, he obeyed her wish without hearing a word. He pulled a hand across her stomach and teased the hem of lace just for a moment. Then, he slipped in a finger and deeply hummed along with Odena. He dictated a slow rhythm while she found the buttons of his checkered shirt. But he knew her way too well to keep that pace long, fastening and roughening in the span of a few thrusts. As if he would have built her body, he angled his finger the perfect way to find the sweetest spot, luring out sounds Odena didn’t know she could ever make. Her hands trembled over the fabric, unable to fumble or wait— so she tore it free. Pit-pats of the buttons joined their synchronised panting, tension building in her lower back like an approaching tsunami. Her hips easily took up the tempo of his finger, and Lonel bit down on the thin skin of her chest between her half-open blouse.

Odena’s breath hitched when the waves came crashing down on her, tensing over his mercilessly diligent handywork. She grabbed a fistful of his chest hair and felt him shuddering alongside her, something wildly pulsating under his skin.

Not paying too much mind to it, she pushed him back on the bed, riding down her high on his digit, one hand stroking his barely contained bulge. With a low groan, Lonel kept up his pace, angling himself to pull them more onto the bed whenever he’d get the chance. There was no fight in him to find his release. He kept his cold blue gaze steady on Odena as if the sight of her pleasure would be more than enough to make him undone.

She would not settle with that, however.

“Crawl back,” she rasped the moment she found her voice, dizzy but determined. He did as she said without a word, taking her with him.

Odena needed a moment to gather her wits, which Lonel waited out patiently, a few sloppy kisses left here and there on her shoulder. As soon as her muscles relaxed, however, she nudged him to lie down. She took a second to admire the slowly blooming bruises on his scar-ornated chest, her red lipstick like bloodstains all over his skin. Fingers glistening with her, shoulder-length hair messy and tangled, face just as stained as his torso, she couldn’t help but smile. “Aren’t you so fine like that?”

Lonel’s crotch visibly throbbed, and another something waved across his exposed skin. It gave the impression of an intense shiver, all the hair standing alert on his body. He closed his eyes while releasing a contained, deep breath.

Odena raised an eyebrow at him, restlessly scraping him out of his jeans.

“What?” she asked, scattering their clothes on the floor.

“Nothing.”

Sure. She clicked her tongue. He might have been holding himself back all this time, but she wasn’t one to let things caged. If she needed to find out herself, she sure as hell would.

“Turning shy on me now isn’t an option.” He chuckled at that, sneaking his hand up on her side to cup her breast.

“Wouldn’t dare.”

Odena moved to straddle one of his bare legs, his hand playing with and circling her nipple to make her efforts of freeing him of his boxer just hard enough for her liking.

Finally, the fabric was kicked over the bed’s edge, and his pale cock bobbed free. She stroked it once, “Hello, you pretty thing.”

“Goddamn,” Lonel grunted, draping an arm over his eyes tight. He twitched between her fingers. And she noticed a tinge of a different shade of red on his cheeks.

Oh.

Odena could tell the flush of heat and embarrassment apart on him any day. Yet that — that was new.

She smiled, thumbing his tip. “You like that? You like being so handsome?“ She licked at him. “So good for me?”

“Fuck’s sake, Blossom.”

Lonel’s hips buckled toward her head, another ripple vibrating through him. This time, Odena could confidently recognise the visual of blond fur plucking out then disappearing under his skin. There were only patches, barely perceptible, but after she realised it, she couldn’t imagine anything different in its place.

Curiosity climbing dangerously close beside her lust, she took him in her mouth for a few strokes before she kissed the tip and looked up at Lonel again.

His eyes changed enough for her to notice. He constantly shuddered under her touch, muscles rock solid from the tension. A yellowish tinge clouded his irises, and he rolled them back as Odena trailed kisses up his abdomen, slowly straddling his cock with her cunt.

“Look at you, baby,” Odena purred, riding him slowly. “You’re doing so good.”

He grabbed back at the wooden headrest with one hand and at her hip with another. “‘Course you wouldn’t just shut up.” His rasp came out choked, guttural, as if his vocal cords were rearranging. There was no malice in his words, only frustration and a pinch of teasing. He did not oppose, after all?

“Oh, you know it. You’re such a good boy; you know me inside and out. You—” she bit back a whine, his throbs massaging against her clit way too well. “Come on, pretty baby, relax and let me take you in whole.”

A crack prompted her eyes to open. Her blissful daze cleared just for a moment, enough to comprehend Lonel’s hand was half covered in fur, a notable chunk of the wood crumpling between his fingers. His nails pulsed between sharpening and pulling back the same way his cock between her legs. She was so used to the casual strength of his hands that she didn’t notice the iron hold digging into her hips before. He snarled quietly, eyes tightly shut.

Odena rolled her hips forward just to see the furs peak out but pull back as they came. “Feeling good, handsome?” she asked, and smiled when the next wave of blond wave stayed revealed. She rubbed her thighs to them, enjoying the tickling sensation.

“Good, that’s so good,” she leaned over to kiss him. He kept his lips tight, too, but reciprocated nevertheless. She could taste the frevor on his tongue, and he didn’t try to stop her when she lifted her hips, angling him into herself. His hips already twitched upward, but she took him slowly anyway.

They sighed into each other deeply, a… a whine escaping Lonel’s lips. It did not sound anything like Odena’s, but it clearly was not of pain. He grew more vocal with every slow movement. 

Odena caressed his furred hand and made him drop the debris before she guided it on her breast. She parted from him, breathing together. “Look at me, baby. Let me see those dazzling eyes.”

He thrust into her roughly, making her cry out as it hit a new spot of pleasure, shudders now matching his. Yet, it felt like he didn’t mean to, as he slowed back his pace. He yowled along her voice, the sound dancing on the edge of ecstatic human and beast.

And, eventually, he did as he was asked.

Dangerous, yellow eyes bore into hers as he revealed them. She shivered just from the piercing foreignness alone. It would have made her run any other times, but then and there, when she was a few touches from unraveling, she welcomed them. She sought them, after all.

“Relax,” she whispered into that hypnotic gaze, craving to experience him whole. The strength of him alone made her clench in pleasure. “Be a good boy for me, and relax.”

And that was all it took.

Lonel’s skin rippled as fur patches travelled through it while he thrust into Odena as if he was waiting for this his whole life. She let him dictate the pace that she could keep up just so. His length grew and shrank inside her, and she didn’t restrain her voice anymore. He sat up, claws slightly scraping her ass, a pinching pain here and there making Odena wince. She welcomed it, she clung to it, she scraped at his scalp softly as he buried his face in her chest. He panted like a chased animal, and she could feel his ears sharpening.

She bit down on the edge, and he groaned, raw, grabbing her hips and burying himself in her completely.

Odena gasped, but no sound left her throat anymore. Her back arched, muscles locked tight, and she lost herself in the trembling bliss of Lonel’s bestial love. He worked her until her head snapped back, and her mind was wiped clean of anything but him inside her.

He followed her close, a growl-moan vibrating through her whole body as he finally released.

She kissed him, spent but smiling, and he slowly came to himself as the high washed away.

“That’s my baby,” she cooed, and Lonel huffed inside her neck, biting at the skin until she pushed his head away, laughing.

“And that’s my insufferable, Blossom.”

[void-after-hours]

𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍 🐾 (2/2)

wc: 3,788 pairing: Liahn x Yune, f x f, married song: Locked by Welshly Arms, (from the prompts: Villain by Stella Jang, Wild by Welshly Arms) prompts (vaguely): link cw: obscene, toxic lesbians, overstimulation, dry humping, magical bondage, mouth fucking, mirror sex, body worship, is this yandere!Yune idk, lost the plot at the end, seeing the lovemarks from before and turning on again as they remember how they go it (its very vaguely like that, or not at all i’m sorry), fucking but one is still trying to play the game they started (this one’s very much absent in this, but maybe how Liahn tries to keep following Yune’s commands or something), cursing, pure pornography, not proofread i don’t look at this for a while

part 1 ⤂part 2

Yune breathed in the warm night air when she left Dahye’s building. She twirled the wedding band over her finger with her thumb, rubbing gently at the godrind’s surface.

After a few hours of stay, she assumed the night crawlers would disappear from the park. Yet, a handful of people were still around, some familiar faces stealing condemning glances at her. It was an all-knowing, scandalised look that spawned gossip and whispers on their lips the moment she passed.

Yune dressed her face in her easiest smile, holding their gaze without trouble. “Good evening,” she said, sweet and innocent.

They all looked away after a rushed, clumsy bow.

She scoffed, bathing in the summer night’s moderated heat. Her skin was showing more than they were used to around such an area, yet she still left some of her legs, arms and a little of her chest free.

She rubbed at her ring again, contemplating. She could have showered at home or reassured Liahn that she was going at all. Yet she ended the call abruptly, unannounced.

Yune idled towards their building, stepping up to their porch. It took a considerably longer time to clean that slut’s touches off herself than she anticipated and that resulted in her reeking from a different kind of luxurious perfume, too. The scent was so strong, it made her nauseous. She aired her skin out just a little more, rubbing at her ring every few minutes, uneven and without true timing.

It crossed her mind to stay away tonight. As she walked inside the dark ground floor, she still considered it. Her lying, ungrateful piece of shit of a wife did not deserve to be craddled, not after all that. She may have confessed, and Yune may have softened over her, yet that did not mean much. Not in their case. She didn’t need momentary reassurance — she needed long-term commitment. To erase every shred of doubt about Liahn leaving her. Because at that rate, nothing was impossible, and that terrified Yune as much as it infuriated her.

She sauntered up the curving stairs of the kitchen, steps soundless and soft. She twirled her ring and heard a pathetic little breath in the dimly lit living room.

Liahn needing her like air wasn’t a carnal desire; it was a fundamental necessity. Without that, how could she be sure? She didn’t ask much. All Yune required was for Liahn to stay honest, true and with her. To not lie, cheat, fantasise or even think about anything else.

To live for her as much as Yune lived for Liahn.

Like a ghost in her own home, she reached the top of the stairs and found her wife on the couch’s edge. Liahn buried her face in her hands, intertwined before her eyes, elbows sinking into her knees, and a leg constantly shaking along the tremble of her hands. She struggled to control her breathing, and Yune waited a little, watching her.

She needed Liahn to understand. They were not against each other, they were one. Oh, her beloved. Her precious, frail wife. Yune knew she would leave her, because Liahn had no true integrity whatsoever. She lived on sorry scraps of insecurity that she piled into a self, and what made her forever impulsive. And outbursts only ever led to terrible, terrible decisions.

Yune knew Liahn would leave her on a whim, so she needed to do something. She needed to make sure of the opposite. Because if she were to leave her…

…there would be no reason to continue living, would it?

She approached slowly, and Liahn raised her head immediately when her steps turned audible. Without much delay, her wife was on her feet, closing the distance between them. Liahn embraced her as if she had gone to war, hands roaming her, voice thick and hoarse, “Oh, Yune.”

Yune didn’t reciprocate the gesture. She fought herself over the urge to melt into her warmth. The want to replace Dahye’s foul touches with Liahn’s. But she couldn’t let it, not yet. Liahn needed to learn.

Yune pushed on her wife’s chest a little, enough to make her lean back. Deep-seated concern gleamed in Liahn’s misty eyes. Yune stepped back just a little, creating an even wider distance between them.

“Did you leave it in as I told you?” was all she asked.

“Yes,” her wife breathed, a ‘but’ sitting loud on her tongue. Yet she didn’t say it, which Yune found promising. She stroked the dampness off her cheek, and Liahn’s head subtly moved to follow her hand when she pulled it back.

She rubbed at her wedding band, and Liahn swallowed, a trail of goosebumps littering the skin of her neck.

Yune rewarded her with a genuine smile. “Good girl.” She licked the salty token of Liahn’s desperation off her thumb. “Now come.”

She turned to their bedroom, approaching without looking back to see if Liahn followed. The words trapped in her wife’s throat were the kind that Yune didn’t need to see to know they were there. Still, she heard the soft steps trailing her through the carpet.

Yune pulled all their curtains closed in the spacious space, bathing the king-sized bed and the floor-to-ceiling mirror beside it in warm lamplight. Liahn stopped in the door, watching her cluelessly.

“Yune, I… Can we talk? Please.”

“We will, beloved. We will.” Yune stroked her ring, prompting a tiny, shuddering breath out of her wife. Then, she propped her forefinger under her chin, softly lifting it. “After you stripped out of those all.”

Liahn frowned, looking down at herself. An ever-present hesitation to show what was underneath clear on her expression, her mouth opening, perhaps in protest, but the moment she gazed into Yune’s eyes, she closed it shut.

“I’m not going to help you this time,” she said, although she would have wanted to. She longed — she loved freeing Liahn of her clothes, and the rare opportunity to fully do it slipped through her fingers more times than she would have preferred. But this was not about her this time.

Liahn shivered a little when she circled her ring. Then, she unbuttoned the first set on her shirt.

Yune settled on the edge of the bed, sliding one leg over the other to hold onto her knee. The slit on her long black skirt opened enough to reveal one of her thigh. “So, how did you find it, beloved?”

“How did I find it?” Liahn repeated, the unease on her face signalling her complete understanding of the question.

“Yes. How getting fucked by Dahye made you feel?”

Liahn winced, slowly shedding her shirt. The simple lace bra hugged her breasts like a lover’s caress, and Yune would have loved to replace her hand with it.

Her wife stalled by fumbling with her trousers’ zipper. She might have tried to spin a lie that didn’t sound one, but as the seconds passed, she lowered her head and lost contact with Yune’s eyes.

“It was unexpected.” Yune waited patiently, gently stroking her wedding band once. Liahn finally opened her zipper. “It felt… good. Mainly because of you. I wanted to be the one in her place. But… hearing her enjoying it did something, too.”

A triumphant sensation coursed through Yune’s veins. They were on the right track with such honesty. But it wasn’t done just yet.

“Was it enough?” she asked, and Liahn made a face.

“Of course.”

Yune clicked her tongue, hating the bitter taste in her mouth. “No, answer me,” she insisted. “Was it enough? Did you feel sated? Did it make you feel empowered?”

Her wife stood unsure in her lingerie, carefully looking up.

“What? No.” Her voice bordered on appalled.

“It made me,” Yune stated and gestured at Liahn to continue. Her frown deepened, but she slowly reached back to unclasp her bra. Yune watched her without a single wandering glance, saying, “And do you know why you didn’t, beloved? Because you’re a hypocrite.”

Liahn’s body tensed, an arm wrapping around her breasts as she let her bra fall to the carpet. She didn’t say anything, but her jaw tightened visibly.

Yune fished out the other godrind from her pocket, fiddling with and shaping it absentmindedly. “You are,” she persisted, “and you are lying to yourself, hiding in the shadows, waiting for your turn to happen. You have no faith in yourself, my love. You were watching us through a dark room where we could barely see you, instead of displaying your pleasure. You are afraid to let yourself be seen. And to give yourself up to someone, you need confidence that comes from that.”

“I gave myself up to you.”

Liahn dared to state that while covering her bareness with her hands. She stepped out of her underwear, clearly not knowing what to do or where to go. Yune watched her, placing the finished godrind piece on the bed. She could hear the strain in her wife’s voice and saw the involuntary rotation of her own ring.

Yune stood.

“Did you?” she asked, tilting her head to Liahn as a signal to come closer. “After all this, can you really say that?”

Liahn swallowed, her eyes growing bigger and more concerned. She came to Yune, nevertheless. With barely a touch, she stopped Liahn in front of her, so they both had a clear, open look at her body.

Her wife still concealed her parts while her eyes held Yune’s through the mirror. A defeated expression conquered her face.

“No,” she whispered.

“No,” Yune agreed.

She waited, softly stroking her wedding band. Again, a shiver set sail on Liahn’s skin, and she slightly squeezed her thighs together. Yune reveled in her response, yet it was not nearly enough. She needed Liahn to tell her, with her own words, what she wanted. She needed Liahn to tell her everything, never again thinking about keeping a thought, let alone a secret fantasy, from her. She needed Liahn to understand that.

Her wife took a breath, ever so slowly revealing her breasts. “But I want to,” she said. Her eyes bore into Yune’s, locking Liahn’s hazels to her black gaze as if the possibility of her looking away would have the power to hurt. Liahn pulled her hands awkwardly at her sides, her eyes misting. “I’m so sorry, Yune, you’re right. You are, but I want to. All I ever wanted was to give myself up to you. I didn’t…”

Yune’s heart fastened, and she closed the tiny space between her front and Liahn’s back. Her wife practically melted into her, squirming again as she circled her ring.

“Yes?” Yune pressed, watching Liahn intently. The remnants of the previous orgasms were striking on her — her always well-kept hair dishevelled and fallen into her eyes, a faint, rosy blush colouring her face. She didn’t have much curves, body more sinewy than anything, but that only added to her handsomeness, her smaller breasts vibrant and excited, her core a perfectly tailored hill between her legs. She always kept it completely shaven for Yune.

Liahn swallowed a sob, visibly steeling herself under Yune’s gaze. “I didn’t just fantasise about Dahye. I wanted to be her. To be as brazen with what I want with you, what I can give to you, what I can be to you.”

The mention of that woman brought an angry warmth into Yune’s cheeks. It could have been sweet, but the name soured its nectar in Yune’s mouth. Dahye had way too much effect on someone who did not fucking belong to her.

“Then be it,” Yune said, and brought her hands over Liahn’s, brushing her arms to hers. Even from such a small contact, her wife’s lips parted, and a barely perceptible shudder ran through her. Yune made her leave the godrind inside after Dahye finished them, so she could stroke at her every now and then, never fully letting Liahn’s craving for a final release vanish. She left Liahn ruminate alone for so long, just so she did not forget — Yune was the only thing she was allowed to think about. And the little practice did its job, turning her wife into a needy ball of overly sensitive and responsive mush.

Yune whispered through her teeth, “Tell me everything you think, beloved. Tell me what you want.”

She didn’t move before Liahn spoke again, eyes visibly trying to shy away from herself.

“Touch me, please, I want you to touch me. To tell me that I can be like her, that I am better than her.”

Yune let a small smile slip on her lips. She guided Liahn’s hand over her body, brushing her palms down her own throat. “Oh, but you are. What does she have that you can’t? You want to be like her, then be it. Be brazen, bold, proud. Look at yourself like Dahye looks at herself. Watch this perfection of a breast,” she cooed, smiling at Liahn’s deep sigh as she trailed her hands through her chest. “She doesn’t have this, beloved. You like that, don’t you? Cradle your nipple, like that, and see what it does. Dahye responds to nothing, not like you, not like this. You touch yourself so well.” Yune led Liahn’s palms down, delighting in the way her wife gasped when it inched towards her cunt. “She could not stand to watch herself like this. She may be in love with herself, but that brute can’t stand to face herself. Not like you, right, beloved?”

Liahn whimpered when Yune pushed two of her fingers between her folds.

“Do you really believe that?” her wife breathed, and her eyes almost fluttered closed, escaping off her right at Yune. She still stood nervously, her gaze doing everything to focus on Yune instead of herself.

So she sharpened her tone, “You need to believe it, not me. Don’t wander, look at yourself, beloved. Watch,” she said, firm, as she guided Liahn’s fingers through herself, spreading her a little. “Look at how slick you are. It strokes you constantly through my ring too, doesn’t it? Does it also vibrate? What did you want it to do? Tell me.”

Their godrinds needed only the intent to do whatever they wanted. She may have circled her ring, but it could just as well vibrate inside her wife if she willed it to do so.

Yune devoured the sight of Liahn’s lips parting wider when she slid her hand a little further over Liahn’s, reaching lower and circling at her entrance. She could feel the ghost of the godrind. Yune didn’t let Liahn stop her own strokes while guiding her other hand over her breasts.

Her wife wet her lips before she could speak again. “It does. It vibrates, don’t you feel it?” And Yune did, just a little. She pushed it a tiny bit deeper, and Liahn’s knees almost buckled, a moan leaving her throat.

“You see, so responsive. So perfect.” Yune followed her wife’s gaze, which yet again drifted towards hers. “Yet, so fickle.”

She pulled back her hands, backing a little, so she could sit on the bed again. Liahn naturally moved towards her like a magnet, but the sudden terror on her face nothing could conceal.

“I’m sorry,” she started, but clearly, she didn’t know what for.

“What did you think about?”

Yune’s question hung in the air, her wife yet again moving to cover herself. She flicked her sharp eyes at Liahn’s, and she swallowed, bringing her hands beside her body.

Liahn’s fingers balled into a fist slightly. “You. I thought about wanting to touch you.”

“That won’t do. I told you to watch yourself, so you do just that. You think about how you look, how you move, how you can turn this pathetic only with me, but be confident and capable with anyone else. My word is not a momentary impulse, Liahn. It's your only truth when I say it.”

Yune held Liahn’s gaze, her wife turning speechless. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it immediately. At last, she nodded. Yune could see that she understood, and with that, she might have just finally created the link she wanted to.

“Turn around, and sit here,” she said experimentally. Her skirt fell on both sides on her bare thigh through the slit as she pulled her leg up. Liahn did as she was told, looking back in the mirror, while she carefully settled over Yune’s thigh. “Don’t worry, I can handle you.”

That reassured Liahn enough to put her full weight on her. She fidgeted a little, yet again awkwardly willing her eyes to look forward.

Yune palmed the handcuff-shaped godrid from the bed. She brought it into Liahn’s lap, earning a deep breath from her.

“Put your hand in,” Yune instructed, and her wife obeyed. The cuffs were big enough to slip her hands through easily, and when she did, Yune gripped them, tightening both with a little force. Liahn hissed, their hold perhaps a little tight. Still, Yune didn’t loosen it. She lifted the cuffs over Liahn’s head, so she spread and opened up in the mirror, her legs slipping back a little too. She frowned, but Yune didn’t mind the confusion. She simply kept the godrind in place and commanded. ‘Stay.’

The object locked in place as she pulled her hand back, Liahn’s arms staying chained up.

“You don’t need to hold your weight, beloved. You won’t be able to, anyway.” Yune pulled on Liahn’s hips a little, and bent it just enough to make her whimper when her clit brushed to her thigh. “Now, ride me. Don’t think about touching me, just watch yourself. If you do well, if you tell me everything that comes across your treacherous little mind, I’ll touch you, too.”

Liahn struggled to keep looking at herself, her eyes most likely wanting to run to Yune.

But she began to move.

Another moan clawed out of her throat from the first little rock, and Yune smiled at that. The godrind didn’t even budge, as if it were the ceiling itself. It kept Liahn’s weight, only half of it rubbing against Yune’s thigh. She watched her wife slowly, almost torturously, slither over her leg, hanging tight from her wrists. Her hazel eyes threatened to close, but it wasn’t only from the pleasure.

“What, beloved? Are you embarrassed?” she asked, stroking a little on her slickened ring. Liahn’s lips trembled, her legs spreading to display more of how she searched for the perfect friction.

Liahn’s breath hitched as she pressed a little more to Yune’s thigh. “Yes. Yes, I am deeply embarrassed.”

“Why? Don’t you see what you’re doing?”

Liahn sighed when Yune kissed her neck. She earned it, so she kept trailing up to her ear.

“I do, and it’s… ah, it’s vulgar.”

Yune slipped her earlobe into her mouth, biting on it. “That’s exactly the point. Look at how your cunt presses to me, how you move like a vicious little snake. Don’t let such a thing faze you. Does it feel good?”

“…Yes, it’s, gods, it’s amazing,” Liahn pushed her head to her arm, keeping her stare at her movements. Yune smiled at her neck, bringing a hand up on her side.

“Tell me more.”

Yune cupped Liahn’s breast, and she slid into her touch. A shiver resonated through her hand.

Her wife’s face contorted into a different kind of frown as she rode her. She was close, her good, darling wife.

“It’s… I’m thinking about the godrind. I’m, oh, thinking about you between my legs. Your fingers… I’m thinking about your touch. Please, touch me. Ah, please.”

Liahn rocked her hips in a longer, but deeper rhythm, while Yune circled her nipple. She was overjoyed at how obedient she turned. Hearing all that, her anger pulled back, their marriage cleansing from the disgusting presence of Dahye. Now, Liahn saw her, and her only. She craved her, she moaned for her, she was begging for her.

So Yune relented, trailing her lips down to her side, until she reached her breast. Like a deserved little treat, she licked at Liahn’s nipple, sucking at it harsh just to calm it with a soft circling of her tongue. Her wife let out a noise that bordered on a whimper and a moan. She glanced at the mirror as she repeated her reward, smiling at the sight of Liahn burying her face into one of her trembling arms, the other half insistently watching herself.

“My beloved,” Yune murmured, lifting her leg a little, and making her Liahn cry out. She chuckled at her breast when she felt a very subtle shudder through Liahn’s body. “You said you’re thinking about my fingers, did you?”

“I– I do.”

“Well, then.”

Yune sneaked her other hand up on Liahn’s stomach, painting her slickness through her skin, up on her free breast, her throat, just to end at her lips. She didn’t need to pry them open, they already slackened under Liahn’s constant noises. She pushed two of her fingers in, Liahn’s tongue warm under her touch. She stole a glance from her wife’s face, now full of her fingers, and she found a subtle disbelief melt into pure pleasure as she licked at them. She chose her ringed finger as one to go in, curious to see if her wife would live with the opportunity. And, gods bless her, she did.

Yune bit onto her hardened nipple softly, prompting a deep moan as Liahn circled her tongue over her ringed finger. She pumped her hand deeper, nevertheless, spit slowly replacing Liahn’s slickness on her skin.

“Do you taste how you imagined, beloved?” she asked against her skin, resting her free hand on Liahn’s buckling hips. “No, it’s much better, isn’t it? You’re doing so good. Look at that, watch what you can do.” Yune pushed her fingers deeper, and tears accompanied the whine and shudder from Liahn. “Finish it, beloved. Such a beautiful, capable, pathetic little mess you are. Make yourself come on my thigh and my fingers. Watch until the end and mark into your mind that Dahye couldn’t do this. You and I are the only ones.”

Liahn groaned onto her fingertips, sucking on the wedding band, squirming, crying as she rode Yune’s thigh. She kept pumping deep in her wife’s mouth, and nibbling on her breast. She didn’t let go of her hips, following the subtle vibration of the godrind that soon didn’t matter. Liahn trembled, pulling on her cuffs to no avail, arching into a delectable sight. Yune kept at her work through her wife’s shudders and moans, pulling down her chin to keep her eyes level with the mirror.

“You and I only,” Yune murmured, watching Liahn in the mirror, riding through her shudders with her help. “Just me and you.”

part 1 ⤂part 2

[void-after-hours]

𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍 🐾

wc: 4,389 pairing: Liahn x Yune (x Dahye), f x f (x f) song: I Get Off by Halestorm, Killer by Valerie Broussard prompts: link cw: very explicit, very obscene, toxic lesbians, revenge sex, (magical) sex toys, overstimulation, threesome if you will, forced voyeurism or is it, married au, old money au, swearing, ass eating, angst

Liahn arrived home to the night deep and sparkling through the wall-sized window of her residence. She clicked the door shut, a heavy sigh escaping her lungs.

It was late, and she was tired. So frustratingly exhausted.

She loosened her tie and tossed it on the couch, her jacket landing right beside it. The spacious living room’s darkness yawned at her, not even the kitchen’s ghostly shimmer visible on the floor beneath.

Yune always left it on when she was home.

Hm.

Liahn cracked her neck on both sides, working out the strain in her shoulders. She didn’t know Yune had plans tonight, and that fact soured the exotic dinner’s taste in her mouth. She crossed the living room, not bothering with lighting a lamp — the brightness that flooded inside from the park was more than enough to get around. The streetlights and the residences’s own lamps gleamed like stars over the enclosed space they all resided in. People walked around, some in groups, some in their lonesome, one or two accompanied by their choice of pet. Life never truly stopped around there, Liahn came to notice.

She was not against sharing land with other people, each having their respective residence without much contact — yet she would have much preferred not to see her one and only rival’s living room whenever she looked out her window.

She made herself a drink by the liquor trolley, ice clinking, and whiskey sloshing in the dead silence. She lifted the crystal glass to her lips, refusing to look to the side. Even though Dahye did not show up at any of the meetings tonight, Liahn felt the lingering presence of the displeasing whispers she left in the investors' ears. She dripped them full with her false, venomous tales and doubts about Liahn’s business skills, twirling the dagger behind her back, ready to find the weakest point to strike in.

And she did it well, that godsdamned snake.

Liahn scoffed, grimacing at the thought. She threw back the first glass of whiskey, then poured another.

The bright light of Dahye’s apartment tried to lure her gaze there, but she did not yield. She knew what she would see — another hooker or two twirling behind the tiny shrouded section the useless curtains kept hidden. The rest of the room was on full display, and Liahn witnessed not once what that bitch of a woman did to another. Yet again, she grimaced, banishing the undesired memories out of her head.

She should not have let Yune choose the location of their home. Liahn collected many regrets from when she relented to Yune’s whims, but none were as prominent as this one. She loved her, of course she loved her, yet the constant nagging, arguments and the never-satiated need for attention ate her up inside. Sometimes, just sometimes, Liahn wanted to be enough. Sometimes she just wanted peace.

But then… the building was so excruciatingly quiet without her.

Liahn turned to fill her glass again, frowning at the little commode beside the window. She picked up the almond-shaped godrind piece, which, despite being metal, was warm and soft to the touch. It was the perfect shape to vibrate or stroke her through an orgasm or two, yet Yune never left their toy out. And not without its twin remote.

The telephone’s ringing sliced through the silence like a knife cutting butter. Liahn’s frown deepened. Who dared call them so late?

“Hora residence”, she answered, hooking her elbow into the telephone cord.

“How was your day, beloved?”

Liahn’s hand stopped before the glass could touch her lips. She would have questioned her wife on the other end, yet she knew her games by now. If she didn’t tell her where she went, it was to lure her into worry and anger. To taunt her into desperation. And Liahn had no appetite for playing tonight.

She took a sip before she said, “Fine. Just the usual.”

Yune’s hum crackled with the telephone’s buzz on the other end. She sounded oddly calm.

“Sounds uneventful, then.”

Liahn shouldn’t have let her faintly sarcastic tone ruffle up her nerves as much as it did. She put the chilled glass to her temple, cooling her skin. Yune wanted something from her, that much she could tell by now. The what, however, always remained a mystery until it was too late.

“Yeah, well,” she trailed off, her eyes involuntarily sliding towards the opposite residence. As predicted, a woman's silhouette moved in the corner, buttoning open her blouse. Fine curves, and a definitely different shape from Dahye. “The same old can be just as exhausting as the new shiny thing.”

“I imagine everything is like that for you.”

Liahn softened her jaw that reflexively hardened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She kept twirling the whiskey on her tongue, watching the woman's shadow figure that just stepped out of her skirt on the other end. With a breezy movement, she picked something off of her head, then put it away. Liahn repressed a scoff, breathing in deep and distracting herself with the view opposite while she waited for Yune’s answer.

She took her sweet, maddening time.

“You’re always tired, aren’t you, beloved?” she practically cooed, too sweet and too calm. “No matter when you get home or what is for the day, you don’t have time, nor energy. All you do is talk about your work, but when was the last time you asked what I did that day, hm? When was the last time you listened?”

Liahn slammed the crystal glass on the commode, the noise disturbingly loud in the room.

“I don’t know what you playin—“ her words froze on her tongue the next moment, blood running cold. “Hey. Hey!” She gripped the telephone, punching at the sturdy window. “Yune, what the fuck are you doing?”

Liahn’s suddenly frantic eyes followed her wife’s form as she walked out from behind the curtains in Dahye’s residence. Her intimately familiar form was bare, safe for the completely unbuttoned mahogany blouse Liahn gifted to her and a black little lingerie that curved over her core like a perfect thin stroke on a painting.

She didn’t have her glasses on, but her hair was tied up as always, leaving a mortifying, clear display of her breasts’ contour. Yune twirled the stretching telephone cord over a finger, looking right at Liahn through the windows. Somehow, she knew her wife could see her.

“Now I have your attention, don’t I?” she scoffed softly, words slowly oozing a certain kind of poison into Liahn’s ear. “It’s sad, really, how you can’t seem to take interest in me anymore without seeing me somewhere else.”

Mouth agape, Liahn needed a moment before she could growl into the telephone, “Have you lost your godsdamned mind? What the Hells are you talking about? Get out of there!”

The windows' crystal clear glass was close enough to follow the disappearance of the small smile from Yune’s lips. Liahn would have reveled in it, lest she weren’t been trying desperately to make sense of the situation. She looked around the park, dread settling in her bones when she saw that people still lingered around, likely very much able to have a view inside Dahye’s fully lit room.

Dahye’s room.

Liahn heard the little cracks inside the handset when her grip tightened.

“You know,” Yune started, and Liahn’s heart pounded in her throat as Dahye came out behind the curtain too, smiling as she approached Yune. “You paid more attention to this room here in the last few months than you ever did to me. You can’t talk about anything else but work all the time. But it’s not really about the business, is it? It’s about her. Always just her. Dahye. Dahye, Dahye, Dahye.” She chuckled, so honeyed Liahn’s stomach churned. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You ogled at her since we were kids.”

Dahye’s more square-built was covered with only a simple, yet obviously high-quality violet bathrobe. Her extremely short, dark hair had no wax on it whatsoever, sitting on her head loose and as if she had combed her fingers through it many times a day.

Her scratching, amusing chuckle sent a repulsive shiver up Liahn’s spine. “Flattering, this Hora.”

Liahn banged her fist on the window again when Dahye snaked a hand over Yune’s abdomen and pulled her to her front.

“Get your dirty fucking hands off my wife, you slut!” she nearly shouted, loud enough so Dahye may hear it. Then, “Yune, stop it, this is insanity!”

“Is it now?” Yune rolled her head to the side so Dahye could leave disgustingly sloppy kisses down her skin. “I am always the lunatic one, hm? I can’t get enough of you, I demand too much of your time, I can’t appreciate that you parade me around every event like a trophy, just to leave me the second someone else is around. It must be so easy to have everything but give nothing, beloved. To come home for hot meals and a hole to fuck if you ever feel like it, but never truly listen to me. Never truly look at me—“

“— That’s, no —”

“— But you can look at this place. You can look at her, can’t you?” she asked, and Liahn, utterly helpless, rapped on the vibrating window as Dahye slid her hands into Yune’s lingerie. “I could see it in your eyes for a while now. You used to look at me, like you, ah—” she hummed into the telephone as her lingerie slithered from the slowly moving fingers. “Like you do to her. Your so-called rival.” Liahn’s words evaporated, her hand trying and failing to claw at the sturdy glass while Yune sighed into her ear, a finger visibly working its way inside her. She kept her stare through the distance, eyes never closing. “Tell me, beloved, and be honest. Did you fantasise about having her for yourself like this? Feeling her, oh, feeling her stroke your so sensitive folds and dip her delectable, long fingers inside until your knees would give up? Hm, did you? Did you desire her — do you want Dahye?”

Liahn would have laughed if not for the tightening of her chest and the dread eating at her bones. “Yune, come on, for fuck’s sake! Get back from the window. Stop it!”

She wanted to turn away, to scrape the hands revealing Yune’s breast off with a force that could break. To run there and drag her wife back, even if she would be kicking and screaming. Yet, she could not move. She knew no one would let her in, and who knows what Yune, her menace of a wife, had planned if she dared try it.

So all Liahn could do was watch Dahye hold her wife by her breasts and cunt, pulling out soft sighs only she should be able to.

Yune tilted her head to the side as if disappointed. “Is that your answer? That is what you call honesty?”

As if on command, Dahye detached from Yune’s neck, lifting her blouse so she could likely kiss down her back. She visibly hooked her fingers through the black lingerie and slowly pulled it to the ground so Liahn’s wife could step out of it. The light steadily shone around them, the view so horrifyingly clear to everyone who’d look up. Which no one has done just yet.

Dahye bit into Yune’s ass, and Liahn knocked her head to the glass, very close to losing the edge of her temper.

“What do you want from me, Yune?” she tried, as her wife backed to the sofa that was almost completely beside the window. She switched the handset in her hands, the telephone cord cutting between her breasts while she knelt back on the plush furniture. Liahn swallowed her desperation, forcing her anger onto her tongue. “What is the point? A confession, attention, what? If you want me to be with you more, I will, gods! I’ll listen, but this…”

“Shut your mouth,” Yune spat with a sudden vehemence. She propped her elbows on the armrest, the open space under the modern design showcasing her bareness in its fullness. “I don’t need your empty fucking promises.” Dahye position behind her, pulling her hands over Yune’s curving spine and pushed up ass. She flashed a sharp, wicked smile at Liahn, and the other couldn’t help but see red. Yune continued. “You think you can keep telling me what to do, when you won’t even be honest with me? No, I’m not going to tolerate your everyday lies, and you ignoring me because you can’t face yourself.”

Liahn almost closed her eyes when Dahye lowered herself behind Yune. There was no need for the muffled sounds on the other end, Liahn could perfectly tell she buried her face into her wife’s backside. Like so many times during their marriage, Dahye did the exact deep, obscene work Liahn used to. Her Yune moaned and swayed a little forward on her elbows, telephone cord tight between her beautiful breasts.

Liahn couldn’t do anything but watch. She had no more violence stored to keep punching the window until it would break. Her throat tightened, heart hammering in her chest. Her voice nearly quivered when the words slipped out, “Yune, please. Don’t make me do this, don’t make me watch this. Come home to me, I beg you.”

“Beg?” Yune, her Yune repeated, voice trailing into lewd sighs. “Oh, beloved,” she moaned, Dahye’s chin sometimes showing under her as she clearly journeyed to her cunt, too. The waving pitch in Yune’s pleasure was achingly personal to Liahn. A song only she could pull out of her until now. Still, she strained to hear Yune’s words, “Begging? My darling Liahn, you beg for no one. You bear. You tolerate, ah, don’t you? So bear this sight, and don’t dare to look away. If you do, I’ll hang up.”

“No!” Liahn cried, desperation coming loose. The thought of not hearing her was more maddening than the view of her lust-filled writhing as another woman devoured her. “No, I don’t — I won’t! I’m looking, I see you. Gods, I see you.”

Yune smiled, head rolling down for a moment as Dahye grabbed her ass to pull it closer to her face. She lifted her gaze back up at Liahn, whispering into the telephone. “You used to love watching me, weren’t you? When we met, when you still loved me, you could watch me coming undone under you like you were looking at a national treasure.” Yune stifled a whine, and the sound did to Liahn what it always had. She felt heat crawling up her skin to pool between her legs.

“I still love you, Yune,” she whispered, pushing her head more into the glass. “I don’t understand this, I never stopped loving you.”

Yune panted faintly. “Is that right?”

Dahye’s hand stroked through Yune’s stomach, slow and deliberate, then stopped at where Liahn assumed her clit might be. She circled her hand, face snaking higher, her other hand still digging into and spreading Yune’s ass.

Liahn forced her eyes to stay open when her wife’s breathing grew thick with the familiar first tinge of orgasm.

“Fuck, Yune, of course. Of course, I love you. I—“ Liahn needed a moment, when she saw a few people trailer their gaze up. She couldn’t tell if they could see her wife, but the possibility still terrified her. She gathered herself, closing her legs as her eyes travelled back to Yune’s face, contorting in ecstasy, voice constant and weavering. “Yune, please.”

“Then be ho—ah,” she gasped, a strained, so seductive melody Liahn cursed herself for feeling her heat throb from it. Yune kept the telephone in her hand, but Dahye clearly held her firm as her legs started to shake ever so slightly. Still, Yune kept her gaze on Liahn, whispering deep, “Be honest with me. For once, tell me the truth.”

Liahn took a shuddering breath as her wife moaned into her ears, the thrilling song of her climax a blessing and a curse. She nearly closed her eyes on the opposite side, face creased into a tensed, but so overly carnal expression that made Liahn bite into her lip and steel herself not to look away.

She did not soften her fist on the glass.

“I fantasised about… about what Dahye would do. I didn’t have her imagined in your place, in you, Gods, I never wanted that. I never wished it to happen to either of us. People’s minds wander, but it wasn’t a desire. It was just an involuntary… thought.” She finally opened her palm over the window glass, longing to touch her wife. “I avoided you because I was ashamed,” Liahn said, letting all her desperation and shame pour into it. “I didn’t want you to think I wanted her instead of you. Because I would never, Yune, never.”

Her wife settled on the other end, Dahye snuggling to her ass, while pulling her hand through her until it sneaked between ass and at her back again.

“Oh, beloved,” Yune cooed, voice smooth and sweet. “Was that so hard?”

“I—“

“Shh, it’s okay. I knew you’d tell me, eventually, I just hoped you’d do it on your own.”

Liahn frowned when Dahye stood, disrobing her clothing. Her breath hitched when the fabric fell away, revealing the two handfuls of perching breasts, and a vibrant strap looped on Dahye’s bottom half, tight and firm.

“What are you doing, Yune?” Lihan’s tone turned pleading, even though her core pulsed faintly. She hated her reaction, yet couldn’t help it.

Yune sat on the couch, patient and content. She pulled something gleaming out from the crook of the armrest, and Liahn’s heart quickened when she recognised the godrind.

Her wife smiled. “Treating you for being honest with me. I wish you had told me before, because we could have tried it in a much more relaxed circumstance. But oh well. Stroke it with me, beloved.”

“That’s—“

“Do it,” Yune said, a touch firmer but still breathy and sweet as she always was with her in bed. In that moment, she realised that her words might have swayed the events, but did not change them. She was to be punished to watch as long as Yune deemed them even.

Liahn obeyed, palming her godrind piece. She followed Yune’s movements, pinching then twisting one side, so the little edge of it detached from the rest. Then, Dahye stepped tantalisingly close to Yune, and the wife’s curled palm pulled her remaining godrind piece along the length of the strap. The material stretched with the movement, flexible and turning translucent like a condom. Liahn stroked at her piece, and that, too, morphed, materialising the perfectly accurate shape of the strap. Their connection softly hummed, the acts and sensations synchronising between the pieces.

Dahye boasted there so confident as it would have been her own cock. She stroked Yune’s face as she looked up at her. She said, loud, “Don’t worry, Hora, business and bedroom do not mend. But I’ll still treat you two like the dirty little bitches you are.”

“You don’t talk to her like that,” Yune warned, slapping Dahye’s hand away from her face. She held her gaze steady and sharp. “You’re a fantasy, a tool, sweetcake, but not a lover. I would never let you touch Liahn, so do not mistake this moment with anything other than what it is. She’s mine and mine alone. You do not talk to her, you do not call her. You simply fuck us until she screams my name, and that’s about it. Am I being clear?”

And that was where Liahn couldn’t help but always give in. For all her faults, Yune always claimed her without ever abandoning her. The words made Liahn weak in the knees, and she sighed wistfully. Whatever Yune did, however she acted, it was always for Liahn. The fights, the punishments, the rewards and the love makings. All just to have her.

Because indeed, she was Yune’s and Yune’s alone.

Dahye held her palms up in mock defense, an amused smile creeping onto her plump lips.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

Yune rolled her eyes as she stood, letting Dahye sit behind her on the couch, tighs spreading enough for Liahn to see where the strap perfectly covered her cunt. It seemed tight enough to rub at her with any movement.

Liahn watched Yune take Dahye’s hand, pulling the smaller godrind piece along her index finger, while adding, “You too, beloved. And make sure to have a hook so it stays in place.”

Heart racing and her veins drumming with anticipation, Liahn did as she was told. The finger-shaped godrind ended in a little hook, and she waited for her wife to finally tell her where this would go. They had never done anything like this before, and Liahn didn’t even know they could separate pieces off of the base godrind. She was frightened, yet her body pulsed all over, waiting and waiting.

“Now, we’re going to live through your fantasy together. This one goes in,” she said, positioning over Dahye’s lap. She looked at Liahn, a command clear in her gaze. And so she obeyed, slowly sliding the cock-shaped godrind inside her trousers. Yune palmed the strap’s head, stroking through her folds. “Don’t rush, beloved. Do it just like that, sweet and slow. Oh. Can you feel me there?”

“Yes,” Liahn breathed, and she could. She positioned it right against her entrance, but she didn’t need to move it. It was as if Yune’s hand would guide the teasing tip along her, the godrind acting on its own. Liahn never thought that she would be able to feel Yune’s slick heat like that, touching through godrind. Sensing both the movement and the sensation of her wife already made her mind foggy with a new height of lust.

“Me too. Ah, you’re so ready for this, aren’t you, my sweet Liahn? Come then, take it all in for me.”

Liahn couldn’t help but moan into the telephone as Dahye lifted her hips while Yune lowered herself onto the strap, meeting her halfway. Liahn’s godrind piece followed along, slipping inside her smoothly, deep enough to lightly tickle her most sensitive spot. Her wife smiled in the other residence, her pulsing core reflecting inside Liahn’s godrind piece.

“Keep looking, beloved. Do not turn away.”

Yune wasn’t so firm anymore, sounding more like the lover Liahn held after every fight. Yet, she obeyed as she always did. Her gaze remained on how Yune spread over Dahye’s lap, the whole of her cunt full of the slowly pumping strap in perfect display. It was obscene — it was maddeningly turning Liahn on. She slapped a hand at the window, supporting herself as the godrind piece pulled out of her, then jabbed deep inside, hitting her sweet spot every single time while Yune’s gasps filled her ears and her throbs resonated through the material.

“Is this, oh Gods, is this how you imagined it? Does this feel like your fantasy, hm?” Yune’s voice weavered, her breasts bouncing in Dahye’s palm. Liahn could sometimes hear her rival’s little gasps when the strap rubbed just right.

Liahn clenched over the godrind alongside her wife, moaning her answer, “Better.”

That was all she could muster, holding onto the telephone and the window’s glass. Her words might have been loud because Dahye’s lips quirked up into an arrogant smile.

Liahn couldn’t tell if Yune or Dahye decided, but her wife leaned against the armrest, so her rival could lift one of her thighs, spreading her completely apart. As if she would have been moved too, Liahn’s godrind piece slipped even deeper, making her cry out and clench alongside her wife.

“Don’t you think this is all, beloved,” Yune panted, digging her nails into the fabric. She still kept looking at Liahn. “Hook it in, and place it on your clit.”

Liahn needed a moment to gather her mind and keep standing at the same time. Her breathing quickened, but she did as she was told, eventually. A whimper slipped from ther throat as the godrind finger pressed to her swollen clit when she slid it under her clothes. The hook clapped into her trouser kept it in place, yet the thrusts in her already made her clit rub into the soft, yet firm metal.

“I take that whimper as a done job,” Yune breathed, chuckling.

Without another word, Dahye sneaked her godrind covered finger over Yune’s cunt, pressing then circling between her folds. The movement played out on Liahn, too, a shudder waving through her body. She pinned herself to the window, doing her best to stay on two shaking feet.

“That’s it, beloved, let me hear you. Tell me—,” her wife blurted a high-pitched curse, mimicking Liahn, when Dahye suddenly quickened her pace on both ends. “Tell me, who do you belong to. Who will have all your attention and affection. Who made you feel this good. Say it, beloved. Just say it.”

Liahn’s knees buckled, her body shedding into an overly sensitive mess, inside and out. Neither her mind nor her body could bear Yune’s completely undone state, seeing on her exactly what was happening in Liahn, too. Dahye’s moans joined their vocal pleasure, signalling how the strap might make her feel. And that was the last straw.

“You,” Liahn cried, dropping to her knees, the whole of her tensing and trembling as her orgasm peaked. Her wife’s throbs vibrated inside her cunt, through the mercilessly pumping godrind. Yune twitched and writhed on the other end, Dahye not so different under and behind her. Liahn whined from the constant waves of climax that just did not stop. “You,” she still forced it into the telephone, doubling down, gripping the handset. “You, Yune, ah fucking — Yune, it’s you. Only you. Only — Yune.”

All three of them rode off their high, Dahye somehow able to keep the fast-paced work both her hips and finger.

Liahn’s mind still reeled from the intensity of her pleasure, but her eyes did not leave Yune’s form. Neither of them did. And so she could see her wife’s quivering, smiling lips move, before she could hear her. “That’s right.”

[void-after-hours]

Hey! Asks for anyone of your choosing.

h = horny; who gets turned on the easiest/most often? how do they show it?

w = window; has anyone got an exhibitionist streak? what’s the closest they’ve come to getting caught?

Hello, thank you!!! I’ll do this for Cyrus, Val, and Tristan, the main polycule for the Lockhart series.

h = horny; who gets turned on the easiest/most often? how do they show it?

It’s absolutely Tristan lol. He finds his fancy mountain lords so irresistible. They’ll know they have him bad when he’s blushing and hiding against their necks. That or he’ll subtly pull them away somewhere quiet so they can latch onto him.

w = window; has anyone got an exhibitionist streak? what’s the closest they’ve come to getting caught?

Not exactly, but when Val’s show crew was around, Cyrus had fantasies about one of them finding the pair together in compromising positions. He wanted them to know how much he loved Val, how desirable they were. Now that they have Tristan as well, he doesn’t think about it as much, though he’s still thrilled by the idea of being caught.

One time, the three of them were almost caught in the greenhouse by the headmistress, Freya. Val saved it by pretending they were having a sad moment to themself, and Freya gave them their space. Cyrus still calls them a genius for it.

[void-after-hours]

poly nsfw alphabet ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🌞 ꒱

a = aftercare; what does aftercare look like with them?

b = baby; how do they feel about petnames/honourifics? do they change when in the bedroom?

c = camera; who likes to send nudes to the others? have they ever made a sex tape - would they ever?

d = dressing up; how do they feel about lingerie? who likes to wear it for the others?

e = edging; is anyone into orgasm control? who is on the receiving end?

f = fair; does anyone like to tease? who doesn’t respond well to it?

g = good; is praise something that’s used often? who does it have the biggest effect on?

h = horny; who gets turned on the easiest/most often? how do they show it?

i = instigation; who, more often than not, is the one to instigate sex?

j = joker; who stays on the serious side, and who’s more lighthearted?

k = kinky; who’s the kinkiest? what are they into, and how do their partners participate (if at all)?

l = lick; who enjoys giving head? who likes receiving it?

m = middle; who likes to be in the middle of their partners? on the other hand, who prefers to focus on everyone else?

n = no; what’s off the table for each of them?

o = overnight; what happens when they’re finished? do they like to turn in for the night, or do they stay up?

p = place; where do they like to have sex? what’s a building/area that’s off limits for one reason or another?

q = quiet; do they like to have anything on in the background, or do they prefer silence?

r = restraints; does anyone like bondage? who’s the one to tie them up?

s = submission; who likes to submit? what are they like when they do, and what roles do the others assume?

t = toys; are toys used? who uses them on who?

u = uniform; would they ever roleplay? if so, what’s the fantasy and dynamic?

v = voyeur; does anyone take pleasure in watching everyone else?

w = window; has anyone got an exhibitionist streak? what’s the closest they’ve come to getting caught?

x = x marks the spot; who knows their partners, and the way to get them in the mood, the best?

y = yours; what does dirty talk look like for them?

z = zealous; who’s most eager to please?

[void-after-hours]

smut prompt? for thee? more likely than you think

can I get uhhh Astrea x Alek

revenge sex x sex in front of a big window where anyone could glance up and spot them

🫶

me? writing more smut? also, more likely than you think aksjdsad

Astrea X Alek X Elijah Smut

(Canon Divergent, Alek Wins AU) → Polycule Throne Fucking Part 2  | WC: 2k Part 1 {Link Embedded}

CW: This is sexually explicit content. If you do not wish to read, please skip past this.

PROMPTs: 

Revenge Sex

Fucking in front of a Big Window

Kinks: Throne Sex | Jealous Sex | Threesome | Vaginal Penetration | Bondage With Dubious Consent | Following Orders | Verbal Humiliation | Dildo Gags | Blindfolds | Oral (female on male) | Double Penetration (vaginal & oral) | Premature Ejaculation | Spanking |

Her bare knees scraped against the cold metal of the throne, but she could only imagine the discomfort Elijah was experiencing. Chains rattled on his wrists and ankles every time he moved; he was bound to a throne that he could never truly possess, not anymore.

Her lips dropped to Elijah's neck, unable to muffle her pleasure. Her fingers grasped at his ripped tunic, trying to find something to latch onto as Alek slowly kept thrusting into her.

She had only ever been intimate with Alek, either alone or in public; either way, Elijah was never anywhere near them before. Alek was aware they had a history, a long one, but she had never realized how jealous he could be— not until Elijah was brought to them. 

Despite the pirate being in chains and Alek donned in a crown, it appeared Alek still had something to prove. And if Astrea still knew Elijah as well as she once did, the pirate would be relishing the fact if he weren’t gagged. 

Donned in his crown of laurels, Alek had commanded Astrea to gag him. It was remarkable— Alek refused to even touch Elijah.

So, while looking the pirate straight in the eye, she followed Aleks' command and gagged him. It wasn’t a small one either— it was a sizable gag that could be used for penetration in varying areas. 

Even stranger, despite the cold words she threw at the pirate, he still had the audacity to gaze at her fondly.  As the chained pirate watched, Alek slid his hands down her sides above him— and still. Still, the pirate allowed her to touch him as she pleased— whether her fingers were combing through the side of his sweat-soaked curls or even trailing between his lips. Obediently, he kept her gaze as he opened his lips for her, letting her slide the gag down his throat. He watched her with the same fondness he had had for her years ago. And it never left him, not even as Alek pressed into her, claiming her from behind. Even as her head fell to his neck, gasping for breath, she felt Elijah's fingers trail against her thighs, desperate for a touch, his soft red gaze filled her with an unexplainable rage— how dare he? How dare he look at her so softly— so gently? How dare he still want her to touch him after everything she had done to him? Her fists clenched, and her eyes almost watered thinking about it. He didn’t need to say it— she could see it. How dare he still love her? How could he forgive her so easily? 

She was glad Alek told her to blindfold him— of course, he saw the way Elijah was looking at her, and he wouldn’t stop looking at her like that, no matter what she whispered to him. However, she couldn’t escape it— especially not when his fingers gently caressed her thighs with such tender devotion.

“Beloved,” Alek growled, pulling her from her stupor. She pushed off of Elijah’s neck as if caught in an act she wasn’t allowed. But she let a whine escape her as his nails ran down her spine, pushing her back onto the pirate in a different kind of pleasure. “What did you tell him?”

“What?” Astrea asked, lost in her pleasure. “What do you mean?”

The pirate was still squirming in his chains on the throne, occasionally moving so his gag wasn't choking him, softly pinned in place behind his curls. And the blindfold still wrapped around him, his wavy brown hair sweat slicked around it; he looked like a mixture of pain and pleasure beneath her. 

Looking down at him now, she fought the urge to take his cheek in her hand and pull his gagged lips closer to hers. 

“When I asked who he is to you,” Alek growled, his patience clearly wearing thin. She gasped as he grasped a handful of her hair, pulled her back flush against his chest, and pressed his lips to her hair. “What did you tell him?”

“I told you,” she smiled, turning to glance at him for a moment. But all she could feel was Elijah’s throbbing erection rubbing against her stomach whenever she was moved. “Nothing.”

He hardened his grip on her hair and pushed his lips to her ear. She whined as his other hand reached for her exposed breast, grasping her. “I warn you against lying to me one more time.”

“I— I wasn't— Ah–” She suddenly bit her lip, stifling a moan as Alek thrust himself deeper into her. Her hands flew to his, clawing at them with a mix of desperation and pleasure—  from the man thrusting into her and the one below, throbbing against her, fingers still caressing her thighs, as if to remind her that he was here— that he would always— 

“Don’t.” He pinched her nipple, sending goosebumps through her, “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“Alek—” she cried his name as he thrust into her, deeper than he had before, and remaining still, if just for a moment, but the moment seemed to last forever. Even the pirate's fingers froze as she moaned the name of another. Her neck craned back into Alek’s shoulder as she succumbed to the feeling of being filled by him, almost enough to forget about the man below her. 

Alek's fingers slowly massaged the sides of her throat as if testing what they could hold. “Mmm,” His deep voice thrummed through her as his lips moved against her. “If you insist on being as difficult as your pirate, perhaps I should treat you two the same.”

Her eyes fluttered open in confusion, but she didn’t have a moment to process before Alek slid himself out of her. A soft whine escaped her at the sudden release of him. And again, as he grasped her naked hips and pulled her from the throne. Her knees thumped to the ground between Elijah’s open knees. Before she could react, he propped her hips back up to be flush with his. 

“Alek— what are you—” she stuttered, feeling as he grabbed her wrists and tied them behind the small of her back with a silk scarf. 

“You could have so much more, my love.” He said, as if disappointed. “You could be a Queen by my side. A ruler of this nation— a nation that has forsaken us both. We could reclaim it together. But you—” he grunted as he shoved her head into the pirate's lap and pressed his tip to her entrance again, “— insist on—” he thrust into her with a satisfied exhale, “—lying to me.” 

“I— I wasn’t—” She shuttered, gasping under the feel of him in this new position. Her face was muffled between Elijah’s thighs, her wrists pinned behind her, making her unable to move as freely as she once could. Her heart raced through her chest as she realized Elijah’s erection pulsed just in front of her. 

“The Pirate’s Princess.” He growled with another thrust into her, “I can see how you want him— look at how desperate he is for you— chained pathetically to a throne, all he wants is you. And what about you?” He thrust into her again with another furious grunt, kicking her legs even farther apart, pushing her face so she brushed Elijah’s cock. “I’ll allow you to have it. Just this once. Go on— take it.”

She hesitated. Of course, she hesitated. Was he testing her? Did he want her to deny him?

“Alek, I... I can’t.” She hesitated, struggling in his grip.

“That wasn’t a request.” He nearly spat. As if realizing she still hesitated, he grabbed her hair again and shoved her lips to his tip. “I’ve run out of gags; this will have to do, won’t it?” He spoke, fingers sliding down to her throat, softly massaging her— coaxing her to open her lips. 

So, she did. And the moment her lips rounded his tip, she felt the pirate lean back in the chair, an inaudible groan escaping through his gag. She looked up at the pirate, glad he couldn't see her, but she felt him twitch in anticipation in her mouth— against her teeth. And as her tongue remembered how to move around him, she felt him tremble under her as she took him, slowly, further. 

“Deeper,” Alek growled. With a thrust into her, Astrea was forced to take all of him in a sudden motion. Shaking under Alek’s grip, she heard him chuckle. “Good girl.”

She couldn’t feel Elijah’s hands on her anymore, chained to the armrests of the throne, but she did feel his thighs against her and his cock twitching and throbbing in her throat. Astrea slowly moved up and down, not to any rhythm she set herself, but to the rhythm of Alek thrusting in and out of her— his desperate grunts and moans behind her commanding the rhythm. 

“Look at you,” Alek grunted, sliding his hands from her secured wrists to the round of her ass, “Is this all you’ll ever be? Gluing yourself to this pathetic pirate? He is the pit of your existence; he should be left behind, a piece of your life you forget and move on from.” His hand trailed to her hips, nails indenting her skin with his resentful grasp as he sped up his pace.

Even Astrea was too gagged now to respond. With every faster thrust, Elijah’s cock met the back of her throat, too distracted with keeping her breath to correct Alek. But she couldn’t help herself— with every jerk of movement, pleasure thrilled through her. It scared her to consider where it came from— was it Alek finally showing such a dominant edge to claim her, or was it from the familiar feel of her pirate inside her? No, no. It was Alek. It had to be Alek. 

Despite how nostalgic the pirates' worship was beneath her and how easily she could fall into his devotion, she couldn't. She couldn’t let herself feel this way about him again. Still, despite her head telling her otherwise, she could practically hear her name in his muffled groans beneath his gag. 

She wasn’t sure what she did or the noises she made to encourage him, too lost in the pleasure between the two of them. But she finally felt that, perhaps, Elijah enjoyed it just as much as she did. The familiar tremble of his legs and how the chains rattled around his limbs— her body remembered what to do before she realized what she was doing as she used Alek’s rhythm in turn with her tongue to aid him in finishing. She swallowed it in bursts as he came down her throat. 

“How pathetic,” Alek growled, running his nails around the curve of her ass before spanking it once, the sound echoing in the empty throne room. “The both of you.”

The sound of the slap jerked Elijah’s chains more than Astrea's, but if Alek noticed, he pretended not to. Feeling the cold dripping from her as Alek slid out of her, Astrea felt red shame rising as she only just realized Alek also finished inside her. How did she only notice Elijah’s pleasure and not her king's?

“Are you going to tell me the truth now, beloved, or will I have to do this again? Perhaps with an audience next time?” Despite the soft edge, his voice was much calmer now that he was spent. Taking the question as permission, she removed herself from Elijah and nodded in response. “Good.” he added, “Now, what did you tell him?”

Smiling as she felt him loosen the silk around her wrists, she said, “I told him that he’s nothing to me.”

Alek's hands were suddenly still behind her, but the scarf was loose enough for her to remove the rest herself.

Alek regarded her as she turned around, realizing that she truly hadn't lied to him. Still, she remained on her knees in front of him. Looking up at his now calmer features, she ran a hand up his thigh, rubbing her thumb over a sensitive spot around his knee. “You’re a very jealous man, you know that?”

He scoffed, lowering his hand to caress her cheek. "Anyone would feel that way about property like you." He glanced casually at the pirate behind her before taking her fingers and helping her to her feet. “Come. I'll take care of you in bed.”

Astrea took his hand, allowing him to lead her away. She was surprised at how much effort it took to resist the urge to glance back at the pirate. The way he looked at her lingered in her mind; while his old fondness was one thing, it stirred up her own feelings of affection for him. Feelings she was not equipped to face. Not yet. Not now.

If it weren't for Alek’s jealousy, she would have forgotten— she would have been able to keep her walls up.

As she walked through the throne room, she signalled for a guard to clean up the pirate and return him to his cell, knowing that Alek would likely leave him there for as long as possible just to let him ruminate in his sunken position below them.

[void-after-hours]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄, 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄 🐾

wc: 2,423 pairing: Liahn x Yune, f x f, established relationship song: Middle of The Night by Elle Duhé prompt: link cw: bit explicit, lesbian, softcore, body worship, public sex, sweet 'n sensual, oral, fingering, kinda spontaneous orgasm, Liahn's dramatically in love y'all

The Do residency trembled against the deep bass the speakers omitted. Hundred years old, sculpted walls contained the tumult of twirling bodies moving together to the rhythms. Satins swished, glasses clinked, laughters dazzled like the crystal chandeliers up ahead, transforming a master architect’s life work into a plush den of the night.

Liahn swirled her drink in her hand, searching the crowd from beside the bar. The beats throbbed in her nape, the headache she had nursed since arriving at the New Year's celebration hours ago pulsating in her skull softly. She lifted her drink to her nose so it could wash out the lingering scent of import tobacco, incense, and men. Meeting after meeting, until the dark settled outside, she longed to get away, looking for her all night — to no avail.

The tension in her neck did not ease by her intense massaging, a certain kind of frustration nibbling at the back of her mind. She barely held her composure.

Vibrant green light blinded her for a moment as the reflectors scanned the varnished dancefloor. Her head swayed lightly from the burning alcohol clinging to her throat. The music filled the frescoed walls to the brim, travelling through the people, until it slithered under her skin, vibrating in her chest, too. Liahn loosened her tie, squinting at the shadowed body forest.

Where was she?

Her fingertips itched, finding nothing but empty air. Even as much as she generally displeased contact, she couldn’t deny the desire to touch. She craved a specific taste on her tongue, a heat, a body, a voice, a release. She craved Yune.

Where was she?

Liahn pushed herself off the counter, leaving the drink unfinished. Her blood trembled with the drums, the crackling voice of the singer, and the constant, hypnotising plucking of guitar strings. She could practically see the long fingers that’d dance on each and every note. The music guided her into the crowd, shouldering past the moulded strangers, sweat and sweet perfume climbing high into her nostrils. The deeper she dived, the more restless she grew. As if Yune’s absence would have taken as much of a hold on her as her presence could.

The crowd waved to the rhythms, and Liahn finally glimpsed at the blood-red dress her gaze chased since dusk. She pushed through towards her form, the heat of the residence damping her skin under the white suit. Yune’s sharply painted eyes lay closed under the slim glasses, hips softly twisting with every beat, the fine fabric of her dress collected between delicate fingers. She danced like a spirit of the music, oblivious to her surroundings and the magnetic power she lured Liahn closer with.

When she arrived behind her, Liahn brushed aside Yune’s cascading brown hair, gliding her fingers across her exposed back.

Yune’s deep, dark eyes opened with the touch, looking back at Liahn as she pressed her shirted chest to her bare skin. She pulled her painted lips to a smile, sneaking back a hand to bury her fingers into Liahn’s hair.

“Finally.”

“Missed me?” Liahn murmured low in her ear. She swayed with Yune, hands finding her hips to hold onto.

“A little.” Yune’s hooded stare buried into hers. Her cherry wine words matched Liahn’s balance of a tease and a humourless statement. They emptied her mind, clearing out the lightness, the exhaustion, all the day’s filth. Liahn’s skin throbbed under the jacket, burning from the need to brush against Yune’s. It was a long day that only a longer night could even.

“Didn’t seem like it,” Liahn accused.

Yune scoffed with a smile, leaning into her palm as she trailed higher on her torso. She stopped barely under her breast, before she guided it back down, right to her outer thigh. “What did it seem like, then?” Yune purred, playing along. She rested her head back on Liahn’s shoulder, softly rubbing her backside to her core.

Liahn breathed her in deep.

“That you enjoyed yourself alone. Perhaps a little too much.”

“Worried I might not need you?” Yune turned between her arms, eyes and glasses glinting alike in the multicoloured reflector, every inch of her brushing against Liahn’s front. “Don’t you now, beloved. I simply prefer you starving from time to time.”

Liahn hummed, leaning over to finally kiss her. She could barely taste Yune’s bitter rouge before she pulled back and slipped out of her grasp. Her skirt spun along, leaving Liahn cold and aggravated. She followed Yune with her gaze as her painted lips widened, then she dived into the crowd, right towards the enormous archway leading to the hallway.

Liahn rolled back her shoulders, impatience goading her. Still, if Yune wished for a chase, then chase she’d give.

She cut way between the people, turning to the carpeted hallway, dark drapery drooping from the high ceiling to shroud the prudish magnificence of the building. It stretched deep inside the residence’s belly, two-winged mahogany doors littering the walls as she passed them.

“Come, beloved. Come to me.” A hushed echo, a glimpse of swishing brown locks. Liahn turned to the next archway, finding herself in a more concealed area. The chandeliers’s light dimmed the further she dove, yet she could follow Yune’s shadow form. Moonshine crept inside the sparsely installed windows, soon outlining her in silver light.

Liahn’s lacquered heels clicked on the floorboard, fast and uneven.

“Come,” Yune whispered into the hall, turning just enough to reveal an achingly taunting, yet oh-so-sweet smile. Her honeyed voice multiplied in the enormous building, raining down on Liahn from everywhere. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Yune’s back that turned porcelain under the swirling lights, vibrant red contouring the divine curve of her legs, her hips and the sides of her breast. A little sway accompanied every movement. Liahn quickened her steps.

Canopies conquered the hallway, and the tumult disappeared. They were deep in the building, likely, but not surely alone around there.

“Come to me.”

Every remnant of the melody muted behind the thick walls, so nothing but Yune’s alluring laughter could echo in the next corner. Liahn reached forward, snatching her jewelled wrist before she could slip away again. The momentum brought them spinning under a drapery, Yune ending pinned between Liahn and a wobbling, but sturdy decor table with nothing but a plush cover and a few small statues standing on its surface.

They clattered off onto the carpet as Liahn’s lips collided with Yune’s at last, swallowing her teasing chuckle. She breathed into Liahn the exhilaration of the chase and slung her arms tight around her neck. Giving space between her legs, Liahn pressed close to Yune, hands roaming her body like it was stolen from under her grasp where it rightfully belonged.

“Wherever I turned, it felt like I kept missing you. All night, I saw you in everyone but none were truly you,” Liahn huffed into Yune’s mouth as she detached for a moment. She gently stroked her palms through her sides, up on her breasts until she could cup her face. “You’re not going anywhere now, beloved.”

It was a demand, a promise and a plea. It was a wish, a most kept secret in the depth of her heart. She banished the bitter taste of the past out of her mouth, savouring every little taste of her instead. Yune’s lips parted to speak, but Liahn didn’t let her. She kissed her until she couldn’t tell which of them had wine or whiskey. A finger hooked into the delicate metal, she slipped Yune’s glasses off without ever leaving the taste of her.

She secured it behind the table in a carved-out little nook, then brought her hand back to Yune as if the distance already would have been painful. Liahn played with Yune’s skin under her hair, body flush and softly stirring under hers. The barely hearable music began to prepare to climb to its peak in the distance.

With a restless mouth, Liahn drifted to Yune’s cheeks, and her jaw, then her neck. She embraced the faint make-up that stained her tongue, for once not carrying about anything but her taste on her lips, and the rush in her veins. Yune pressing to her, and sighing into her ear wasn’t enough. She wanted to find every familiar and new corner of her body, feel it under her palm, mark it into her tastebuds and her memory.

Yune took one of her earlobes between her lips, biting a little as her hand trailed Liahn’s chest with her hands. “I am here,” she murmured, undoing two more buttons on Liahn’s shirt, so her hands could slither inside to cup breast. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Liahn moaned into Yune’s neck as her fingers rubbed at her nipple.

“I love that you’re always so sensitive, beloved,” she purred, while Liahn trailed her hands over her thighs, pushing the fine fabric away. Her other hand guided Yune’s head to the other side so she could kiss down on the whole of her neck, and her chest. Yune kept playing with her under her shirt. “I love that I barely touch and you already sing for me.”

Liahn gently groaned onto her skin as Yune brushed her fingers between her legs. Her core pulsed under her touch like the melody’s building rhythm somewhere, yet she didn’t intend to be the one to lose herself tonight. She took Yune’s wrists and guided them back around her neck.

“Not now. Tonight, I want to hear you,” Liahn said, involuntarily sighing as she slid Yune’s bare breasts out of her dress. The fabric collapsed onto her torso without an inch of resistance. “Tonight, I want to hear you call my name.”

She leaned back onto her sweet skin and tasted her breasts for the thousandth time. A chuckle, then a breath of pleasure ran out of Yune’s throat, hands burying in Liahn’s hair.

Liahn worked her mouth gentle but confident, the bass of the music so far away still resonating inside both of them. She caressed the insides of Yune’s gorgeous thighs with a hand, crinkling the fabric up to her core, but never reaching it yet. She teased her just to have her pressing into her mouth even further.

Liahn found her headache replaced by Yune’s moans and gasps as her pleasure wrestled her rising frustration. Liahn yearned to prolong the moment, that gods-blessed stolen chance to have her all to herself. To revel in the realness of her presence. She did not rush, but she did yearn to hear her name on Yune’s lips.

With the anticipating plucking of guitar strings in the background, Liahn kneeled before her beloved. The dress mostly brushed aside, she pushed softly into one of her thighs, spreading her into a ravishing view.

“Gods, you’re driving me mad,” Liahn cursed onto the thigh she nipped at. She met Yune’s dazzlingly smiling eyes as she turned from the crotchless red lace before her eyes. Her heat throbbed, and she clenched just from the sight of her.

“I hope so—”

Yune moaned as Liahn glided her fingers through her, a hand gently keeping her thigh spread. She bathed in the sweet sound, caressing her core as if she would for the last time. She savoured every sensation and every shift of Yune’s body. Liahn looked up at that beautiful face — the face that was there and hers — while she slid inside a finger. Yune closed over her as her eyes fluttered shut.

“You do, beloved. You always did. All you’ll ever do is drive me mad just to be the only one who can cure me out of it.”

Liahn leaned onto her clit, reverently teasing it with her tongue while she added another finger with the next motion. Yune fidgeted towards her face, a hand burying into her hair. Her whimpers echoed through the hallway, blending into the sensual voice of the singer in the other wing of the building. Liahn licked and suck at her most sensitive spot, bending her fingers inside her. A soft clatter made her look up without detaching herself, just to see Yune holding onto the drapery with her other hand. She moaned, and shivered under Liahn, making her pulse all over, too. Yune’s contorting features bathed in the silver light, lovely handful of breasts glistening, and some stray, curving locks of hair sticking to her skin.

Liahn, too, moaned onto Yune’s clit, a waving sensation poking alive in her lower back. She thrust into Yune slow and deep, tender but diligent. The flavour, the scent, and the sight of her made Liahn steadily believe. She was there. She was hers. She was intoxicating her as the most potent aphrodisiac of her life.

Clapping echoed through the residence from the dance hall, building and building, the people’s loud voices counting constantly.

“Oh, beloved. Oh,” Yune whimpered, hands tightening in her hair. “Liahn.”

Liahn sighed at Yune as she licked her into trembling, fingers stroking the spot she knew like her own home. Her hand massaged Yune’s thigh she kept in place, but she squeezed at it as her vibrating pleasure travelled through her own body. Without a true touch, she shuddered alongside her beloved, echoing her gasps and tensing in pleasure. The people’s counting and the melody climaxed, muted pops littering the silent heated night.

Liahn’s shudders settled slowly as she kept her soft and sweet pace inside Yune. The firecrackers painted her heaving form into divinity as she opened her eyes when she relaxed over Liahn’s touch.

Yune smiled then, the remnants of desire and satisfaction sparkling in her dark eyes. She put her hand under Liahn’s chin, and ever so gently pulled her to her feet.

She freed the burgundy handkerchief from Liahn’s jacket pocket and dabbed at her chin before she kissed her.

“Happy New Year, beloved,” she hummed into her mouth, licking at Liahn’s lips.

She huffed a quick laugh, embracing Yune’s hips. She moulded into her arms just right.

There, with the colourful pops behind them, and the murmuring crowd somewhere around, Liahn faced it at last. As long as Yune was with her, nothing mattered more.

She brushed her forehead to Yune’s and wholeheartedly believed it when she said, “It’s going to be the happiest.”

[void-after-hours]

another smut prompt? in thou inbox? yes

let's sayyy. Astrea x Elijah

finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc)

Happy Smut Sunday!

ASTREA X ELIJAH SMUT 

PROMPT: finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck

Kinks: Whore House | Jealous Sex | Body Worship | Oral (Female on Male) | Seductive Attire | Bondage With Dubious Consent (Female on Male) | Praise (Both Ways) | Exhibitionism with Dubious Consent | Foreign Sex Customs 

Song inspo: Good To Be Bad

Her outfit for the evening was designed to blend in with the pirate den they were visiting. He tried to focus, but he couldn't help winking at her whenever she caught him staring. Who could blame him? The loose wraps only covered her chest, flattering her figure and revealing more of her body than he was accustomed to seeing in public. Although he had seen her in similar attire in the privacy of his chambers, it was different now with everyone else able to see her. Every time she moved, the small bells attached to her sleeves jingled in a seductive manner. And the reds in her outfit ascended the sultry red in her gaze whenever she caught someone's eye.

With the audience this pirate den attracted, of course, his eyes weren’t the only ones on her.

Elijah had been in this den before, and everyone knew him as the elusive Phantom Pirate. No one would dare take what was his. While he engaged in conversations with pirates he knew, as well as some he didn’t, he always kept a watchful eye on her. If she ever wandered too far or if any unsavory scum approached her or looked at her in a way he disliked, he wouldn’t hesitate to leave a conversation, break a finger, and grasp her arm to pull her back to him.

They had been in this pirate den for hours, gathering intel. And throughout it, she kept giving him subtle touches—brushing her fingers against his arms and even backing up against him. Unfortunately for him, his arousal was becoming obvious, and she only encouraged it. Perhaps it was something about this pirate den that revealed her courage, but he was enjoying every fucking minute of her on him like this. Where everyone could see. 

Finally, she had managed to sneak them into a nearby secluded room, about the size of a closet. The room looked familiar at first, but he stopped paying attention the moment his back slammed against the wall and her lips collided with his. 

A pleased chuckle left him as his hands flew to pull her to him, digging his nails into her hips. With the intensity of her desperation gyrating against him, he throbbed with the need for her. He growled at the clothes that separated them, laden with the need to push her clothes aside and press inside her until she was crying his name. The way she combed her fingers up into his hair to desperately pull her down to him did nothing to help him— and neither did the way she breathed his name into his lips. With a desperate grunt, his hand flew to her hair, feeling it cascade through his fingers before gripping her neck, trailing his thumb down the column of her throat. She released a whine as he tightened his grip, sending a thrill through him. 

Gods, he wanted nothing more than to rip the pathetic excuse for clothing off of her and take her against this godforsaken wall. 

His senses almost returned to him when she peeled out of his grip. 

His breath hitched as her hand trailed down his chest. Her name was a chaste question on his lips, but it fled as her fingers tugged at the strap of his trousers. He watched her slide down against him, drop to her knees, pulling his trousers down with her. 

“Astrea—” he gasped her name in surprise as she took his length in her grip, never removing her hungry gaze from him. “Fuck” he panted as she started stroking him. 

“Do you like this?” She asked, almost too innocently— almost as if she didn’t realize what she was doing to him. 

He would have chuckled at her nerve if he weren’t so— Gods, she felt so good around him. His nails scratched into the narrow walls encircling him— something about the walls felt strangely, oddly familiar. But the thought was gone as soon as it came as he struggled to find his breath, watching as she sloppily removed his length from her throat and licked the tip, slowly pumping the rest of him. 

He couldn’t contain the pleasure as it leaked from him in rough growls. He wanted to touch her— pull her on his hips, and fuck her. But Gods— this was just as good— she had never done this before, and he wouldn’t ruin the moment. 

“Fuck, Astrea—” Biting his lip, he spared a glance down at her— and she took his unrestrained arousal as encouragement. Still, he added, “Gods— you’re doing so good. Please—”

“Please, what?” She asked, a kiss against his tip, sending a shiver up his spine. 

“Please— just—’ He released another breath as she slowly sped up her pumping of his cock. “Fuck, Princess. Slow down.”

He felt her breath shake on his cock as she laughed. She slowed, but only so she could drag the base of her tongue from the base of his length, right to the tip. He was certain he released a noise, but he couldn’t hear anything as she worked with her tongue. 

The floor spun from beneath him as she slowly took his length in her mouth. He couldn’t recall the colourful cursing that escaped him as he succumbed to the pleasure of feeling the warmth of her mouth around his hardened length. He didn’t realize when his hand left the wall, but all he could feel was her hair gliding between his fingers. 

With a desperate jerk of her hair, just a little pull, he felt the back of her throat push against his tip, and it was nearly over for him if it weren’t for her tongue playing with his length in her mouth. 

“Princess,” he purred, hands lost in her hair, “My perfect fucking Princess.” He exhaled.  The rhythm of her tongue moving, mixed with her soft movements thrusting back and forth on his arousal, had him seeing stars. 

The moment he thought it would finish— as if she knew— she slowly removed herself from him. He didn’t realize his hand flew the finish the job until she caught it and entwined her fingers with his. He would have assumed it a romantic gesture if not for the brush of cold steel on his skin. This room— the metal— there was something he ought to remember—

“My Pirate,” she whispered, tongue dancing on his tip, “My Captain.” The side of her head affectionately nuzzled his thigh.

The title coaxed his eyes to flutter open. Her voice was enough— but the names. She had never called him that, her captain, only his crew did— just as she never knelt to him. 

He smiled at the sight of the submissive look in her eyes— the sight of her beneath him, nuzzling him— holding onto him, with a soft, desperate hold on him. Distracted by the desperate sight of her, he couldn’t hold himself back. He lifted his fingers to her cheek and slid a thumb to her lips, pressing it between them. She smiled back as he pried her mouth open for him, letting the length of him press flat on her cheek.

“Princess,” he purred, grabbing her chin, thumb still on her tongue, “Will you let me play with you next, darling?”

She smiled, caressing his thigh and sliding his thumb out. Then she apologized. “I’m sorry, but I’m not done playing with you yet, darling, " she said mockingly. 

He lifted an eye at her. A surprised sound escaped him as a metal clasp pulled his wrists to the wall behind him in a loud rattle of metal. A chain. 

“I—” He stuttered, looking around. As he watched her rise back to her feet, it dawned on him. 

 “Oh— Oh.” He softly cursed, unsure if he should be disappointed in himself or impressed with her.

She grinned as if in victory and caressed his cheek. She chastly pressed her lips to his ear, “I’m not your whore, Pirate.” She locked him in place, testing the metal chains keeping his wrists to the wall. “You pulled me around this den like you owned me.”

He blinked at her. This den was dangerous— he had known it from experience. And people knew him. They feared him. “Princess— That’s not what I— If they knew you were with me—”

She kissed her teeth. “What? You think I’d be in danger if they thought I was alone?” She asked, raising an eye at him. “Me, who’s saved your ass more times than you can count. You think I need the protection of the infamous Phantom?”

He made a face at her, knowing this was an act, but also knowing there was nothing he could say to rebut her. Now that he knew what she was going to do, there was nothing he could do to stop her— not that he wanted to. So, with his pants still at his ankles, his erection still twitching for her, and his wrists bound to his sides on a slave’s wall, he watched, impressed. 

“I’ll show you what it feels like to be treated like a prize.” Taking a triumphant step back, glancing at his still pronounced arousal, she raised her voice slightly enough to get the attention of those around her, “Be good for me, Pirate, and this won’t last too long.”

He blinked, realizing where he was. It was no closet. It was a presentation preparation room. To prepare claims and catches on display for all to see. 

For a moment, despair filled him at the thought of being displayed so pathetically to a mass of pirates who respected his title, but then he realized what this meant for her. His heart pounded—if it wasn’t racing before, it surely was now. 

With her command, the walls of the room dropped, and the rest of the den was in full view. 

He let out a pathetic whimper as she grasped a bundle of his hair, examining her handiwork. He had never been one of the pirates strung up like this, but he had witnessed such a display before. He couldn’t help but wink at her, impressed by how quickly Astrea had grasped the social hierarchy in a place like this. The culture of pirates was far from the moral purity of Oracea, nor did it embrace sexuality as a respectable passion like Pyria. No, this was the world of pirates—while they welcomed sexual promiscuity, they were showcased in a way that was unique to their world.

As the Phantom, one of the more ostentatious flags on the seas, none of his rank had ever been claimed or displayed in such a way. It was a prestigious claim, a method to establish a reputation if one asserted dominance over a powerful name. He had experienced this himself when he took over a ship from a pirate he had dominated, taking it for all it was worth. In this culture, using your body to claim property was encouraged. It could be likened to marriage or the claiming of a title, depending on how one viewed it. Elijah smiled at her. He had never told her this part ofexhibitionism the culture, but of course, she would pick up on it. 

And, of course, she would do it to him. He truly should have expected it. 

And, like all the rest of the den, they all looked at her, wondering what she would claim for herself. His title, or his hand? Either way, they would need to watch as she finished him. And they would all witness as he made a pirate of her. They would all witness as she became the master of his ship. And they would all learn her name as a force to be reckoned with on the seas. 

[void-after-hours]

𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘, 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 🐾

wc: 3,172 pairing: Bongju x Fang, m x f, subordinate x superior song: Lose Control by Teddy Swims prompt: link cw: explicit, dom!fem, mild violence, mild choking, established fwb, public sex, jealousy ig, height difference (fem taller), blowjob, oral (fem recieving), bit humour at the end?, body worship, cursing, they’re messy, for more Sasin stuff link in my pinned post, there's a lil plot

Thick cigar smoke twirled towards the gambling den’s ceiling, obscuring the view enough to blur the edge of every person’s silhouette as if they were all moving in a dream. Overjoyed clinks of champagne glasses, clicketing and chirping machines, roaring laughter and live music made it a challenge to do business beside high tables. Fang neither liked nor minded it.

“I think that would conclude our night. It’s always a pleasure to do business with you, Grey Fang,” Mr Do prompted, raising his whiskey glass at her. His meaty fingers brought his cigar to his lips, inhaling deeply before he smiled up at her. “Say, have you ever considered doing both?”

Fang caught Bongju’s dark stare, narrowing at the middle-aged man as he arrived beside her. He was generally always on her heel, but she preferred to speak to the Do tycoon alone tonight. She shook him off somewhere at the beginning of the meeting, perhaps an hour or so ago. He didn’t greet or bow to the man, none of his characteristic ease and smile crawling to his face.

“Both what?” she asked, finishing off her own drink. She would have enjoyed the den, yet it was way too littered with bored billionaires like Mr Do tonight. Not much her lot to lose herself in.

“Pleasure and business — as business. You’ve an impressive figure, and believe me when I tell you, there is more than a dozen gentlemen who’d earn you a pretty penny if you’d feel inclined.”

The old goat did not flinch. Fang found it amusing how his eyes shimmered so shamelessly, stating the obvious. Stout, two heads shorter, balding, red-cheeked and pampered, Mr Do posed no threat, nor desire to her. Nevertheless, she was impressed by the offer, given her reputation that made most react more cautious than carnal.

Her clean-shaven company on her right did not share the sentiment.

Bongju put his scarred hand on the table, a white pearlescent glow blinking over it in the form of a bear paw. Even in the sharp light of the crystal chandeliers, it was visible, a clear sign of an intense channelling of his Blessing—around the amount that would let him crush the solid marble pillars holding the ceiling with his bare hands.

His voice was even when he said, “You’re speaking to the West’s Grey Fang, Mr Do. Not some whore.”

Fang narrowed her eyes at Bongju. His fairly long, curling hair was styled neatly, white suit spotless and sharp. He could have blended in with the sons of the likes of Mr Do, safe for the healed slashes on his brow, lips and hands. Or his cold expression that she caught in him rarely. He wasn’t prone to anger, but she knew him enough after fifteen years.

Still, she didn’t rush to react.

He knew to only threaten a man if he was ready to be his enemy. Mr Do, however, was poor material for that, given their need for his business. It was their duty to indulge him. Which Bongju knew better than a lot, keeping his professionalism intact. Until now.

The bustling of the gamblers filled the momentary pause.

“Oh, I meant no disrespect! My intention was the opposite,” Mr Do corrected eventually, clearing his throat. He adjusted his sleeves, more annoyed than embarrassed. “Don’t worry, sport, I know all the tales and fables of your streets. I simply meant to,” he smacked his lips, gesturing vaguely in the air, “joke. I believe you understand that, Miss Fang?”

She snorted at that. No sane person would call her that. However, they didn’t come here to cause a scene or simply lose an important income.

She put down her glass, wiping her lips with the back of her thumb. “Of course. Bongju’s here simply demonstrating the loyalty and protection you’ll get from us. We can lay down the future contract’s details later in the evening.”

And with that, she bowed to him slightly, turning on her heels. Some of her men would come and coax him more anyway.

Bongju kept her pace, close on her side.

Leaving through the enormous, gilded double doors, the summer air pulled a sigh out of her. She wiped at her neck, freeing it from most of the sweat damping her skin. The night was sizzling from the life that filled it through dance halls and wineries. Not many people wandered about outside, but she turned into an alleyway beside the gambling den to create some privacy.

She leaned back onto the cold brick wall, Bongju mirroring her on her right, hands firm in his pockets.

“You could have blown it all,” she started, pushing a cigarette between her lips. She offered one to Bongju.

He accepted it, eyes fluttering at her while she lit it for him.

“I know.” His smoke intertwined with hers and lingered as he remained silent after that.

Fang hummed. She wasn’t the sentimental type, nor one to pry him open. If he had a problem, he should voice it and solve it. Simple as that.

She adjusted her collar, opening her shirt wider on her chest. No matter how much room she left, the heat did not budge or lessen.

“You left me.”

His numbly accusatory voice earned a glance from the side of her eyes. He was staring at the ground, leaning forward as if he was planning on leaving soon.

Fang raised a brow. “And?”

Bongju chuckled without humour, smoke swirling through his perfect teeth. He took another drag, then pushed himself to his feet, walking up to Fang.

Half a head shorter, he was still tall enough to kiss her without trouble. Cigarette smoke leaked from their mouths as he bit down on her bottom lip before leaning back enough to hold her gaze.

“What are you doing?” she asked, unimpressed, but not unkind. His taste wasn’t foreign to her — she had known it for some time now. Occasionally, they found their pleasure in each other, always without attachment. Most in their line of work weren’t interested in settling, only to sate their needs, and they were no exception.

Yet, this was different.

Bongju threw away his barely touched cigarette.

“Nothing new.” He buried his hand in her hair and latched onto her lips again. He was rough and sloppy, very soon trailing to her jaw.

Fang kicked his leg back to create an opening, shoes scraping the ground while she ripped herself out of his grasp. With the help of her momentum, she gathered his hands behind, pressing her weight to his back and pushing him to the wall with force. One of her hands sneaked up on his throat to hold his jaw. He released a huff, straining to her.

“Answer me,” she murmured into his ear, earning a sharp breath from Bongju. Her smoke burned close to his face, sitting still between her fingers. Ash sprinkled on her skin, singeing it just so.

Bongju did not shy away, so she pushed her thigh between his legs. And felt it.

“Did you get your answer?”

He tried to look back at her, but her hold was firm.

“No.” She lifted her leg, brushing against his crotch. He pulsed between the wall and her thigh, body tightly leaning back to her. Still, his tension clearly did not end in his cock. Fang wouldn’t have pried, but she could not stand subtle poking.

It was no matter that the moon barely spilled into the alleyway; close enough to taste his aftershave if she wanted, she could see some kind of rage on his clean, pretty features.

He remained silent.

“Nothing?” she scoffed low, settling on a decision. It was, after all, simple to make Bongju talk if one knew him like she did. So Fang, too, flicked away her smoke, bringing her other hand over his abdomen. Despite the well-fitted tailoring, she could slither her hand inside his white trousers easily. Her palm enveloped his almost full erection, stroking it alive tightly.

Bongju breathed a chuckle, pushing himself into her hand. As pissed as she was, she wasn’t immune to the allure. The city quietly murmured around them, people coming and going far away enough, but still in their view. The stench of the alleyway mingled with the sweet and sour smells omitting from the buildings around. A perfect place to break a man before everyone’s nose.

She lengthened the range of her stroking, pressing into his balls then pulling fully over his tip with every new pump. Bongju moaned quietly as she angled his face to the side so it lay flat along the wall.

“You put a business in danger, vaguely accusing me of some bullshit, then trying to fuck me on the street. I’ll only ask one more time: what are you doing?”

He grit his teeth, but his cock twitched between her fingers. “You burshed me off for the whole night for that grease-faced pig.”

“And?” she rumbled close to his ear. A visible shudder ran through Bongju’s form, turning one side of her lips slightly upward. She was not opposed to the idea of taking him on the spot, which he so plainly craved. But she did not plan on budging just yet. “We’re here to complete our task. He’s part of it.”

“That doesn’t make him entitled to size you up for whoring just because you gave him the time of your day.”

A small adjustment and her thigh rubbed his balls from under, close and continuous. He closed his eyes for a moment, turning his head so her burned finger slipped between his lips. He welcomed it, licking at the faintly pulsating pain.

Fang glided her hand up on his length, drawing harsh circles under the sensitive spot of his tip. “Didn’t you do the same all day, hm?” she asked, amused. “What makes you so different?”

He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. “That you’re mine.”

“Yours?” she chuckled beside his face, quick and deep. “Don’t be arrogant, doll.”

Squirming between the wall and her, he cursed as she tightened her grip on both his throat and his cock. His face contorted between pleasure and anger. She never found much appeal in pretty men, but Bongju bordered on handsome and ragged best when he was struggling before her like that. His dark gaze did not falter from hers, breathing hard just out of reach from her lips.

Fang hummed.

She released her hold, pulled away her hand, and stepped back. Tugging on her sleeves, she evened out the wrinkles on her jacket.

Bongju turned with a heavy frown, heaving slowly. His eyes still accused loud and clear.

“I don’t do complicated,” Fang offered, putting a small distance between them. Her skin flamed under her suit from the summer heat and a hint of arousal.

Bongju stepped closer. “What are you talking about?”

“Your feelings. You’re jealous, doll, and I’m not indulging that.”

He laughed then, shaking his head while combing through his hair. His unbuttoned jacket lifted with the movement, giving a full display of his hardness that the fine fabric outlined to the last detail, ending in a small wet patch. Her fingers’s mark faintly bloomed into view on his neck.

Despite her statement, Bongju closed the distance between them and shoved Fang back to the metal container behind her. He was strong, given their lifestyle, but he couldn’t outmatch Fang without channelling. She grunted from the impact, catching the faint white outline around his form.

Bongju caged her, squinting up.

“I am jealous, and I could strangle that pig. But that’s it.” He rolled his bulge to her core, finding just the perfect friction to make her groan. “There’s nothing complicated about this. It’s not like I’ve come to these feelings overnight.”

No, he definitely didn’t. However, he always had a good grasp on them. That was one of the reasons he earned Fang’s respect. Tonight might have turned out to be a weaker moment for him, but ultimately, he did have a point. He lived the same life she did, and he understood her stance.

Well then.

Fang reached behind her and pulled herself up onto the container without difficulty. Her muscles barely strained through the slim jacket, but Bongju’s eyes were drawn to her biceps nevertheless. He stood back just enough so she could comfortably spread into a sitting position, leaning back on her hands.

She cocked her head when he kept standing there.

“Have at it then,” she said, spreading her legs wider.

For the first time that night, Bongju’s lips widened into his characteristic feline smile. Like a child finally digging into the candy jar, he trailed his palms over her thighs while stepping between her legs. His touch barely covered half of her leg, which seemed to do anything but bother him.

He didn’t waste time on kissing her anymore. Teeth grazing the sensitive skin behind her ear, bites, and tongue-full kisses quickly trailed down on her inked neck. As if trying to devour her bit by bit, he nibbled at every inch of her too-warm body with a force that nearly broke skin. She hummed along the touches, pressing her pulsing core to his bulge. He eagerly thrust at her, digging his fingers into her thighs. The strenght of it rubbed at her clit enough to plant a scratching chuckle into her throat.

Fang watched him eating at her fully-tattooed chest, both hands unbuttoning her shirt until only two remained around her hips. Bongju massaged her more muscles than breasts with leisure fervor, circling and pinching her nipples before his mouth arrived in their place. His tongue roamed over the skin, biting at one of her nipples.

She squinted.

“So this is what you’ve risked our assignment for?” she rasped, eyes constantly following his movements. His gaze flicked up, but he kept trailing down on her. That smile crept back onto his already glistening lips.

“Not nearly.” His breath collided with her defined, marked-up stomach, and his hands expertly undid her trousers. Fingers hooked into her underware, he tugged at it. She lifted herself with as much ease as he worked the clothing off. The cold touch of the metal underneath sent a welcome shiver up her spine, and she reveled in it against the heat. Bongju dropped to one knee before her, the container way too high for him to completely settle down. His hands sneaked up to her ass, burying his fingers in it, so with a breath of his scortching Blessing, he could pull her at his face.

He lapped into her deep so she’d groan under the sensation. “You can say what you want, but you’ve clearly got nothing against me,” he murmured into her cunt, his voice resonating against her skin. He hooked her thighs on his shoulders, then took a hold on her ass once more.

“Hm, I thought I’m not some hooker to be talked to like that.” She rolled herself onto his tongue as he teased her entrance.

Bongju’s scarred brow twitched, and his face contorted into a loose grimace. He grazed his teeth over her clit as he sucked at it, a sharp little pain jolting through her.

Fang closed her eyes with a throaty chuckle, tilting her head back. She reached out to make a fist in his too-neat hair.

“Easy, doll. You don’t want to rush the fun, do you?”

His hum reverbrated through her lower stomach, mouth working like he’d been straving for centuries. The obscene sounds bounced to the alleyway’s walls, getting lost in the passerby’s combined little noises. He didn’t need guidance, yet he did not resist when Fang began directing his path with her hand in his locks. The tension waved deliciously in her lower back as she rode his face.

Even though she didn’t look, she felt the tingling warmth of the Blessing omitting through his palms. Bongju never feared to use whatever skills were at his disposal to bring the most out of his situation. He buried his mouth and tongue deeper, bringing and squeezing a hand over her thigh with the enormous, claw-shaped scar embedded into it. She made an approving noise, pushing into his other hand that found its way back to one of her breasts.

Her high close to reaching its peak dazed her just enough to notice the clicking of heels when it already turned into the alleyway.

Fang’s eyes slowly opened.

“Fucking mobs, and those…” Mr Do trailed off, and he dropped his cigarette when their eyes met. His grumbling pulled Bongju’s face out between her legs, too. Without hesitation, he grinned at the tycoon, wicked and shameless, saluting with the hand that clutched Fang’s thigh moments before.

The sparse lightning still showed Mr Do’s face paling. Not able to keep Fang’s gaze a second longer, he turned out of the alleyway in a rush, never looking back.

She laughed then, chest resonating and full. “You’re a fiend,” she tugged Bongju’s head up and reciprocated his victorious smile.

He shrugged, standing slowly. “He made the mistake of believing to ever be ready for this.”

He dragged his twinkling, black eyes through her whole form. She didn’t miss the likely now painful throb in his trouser.

“Unlike you?” she mocked with a hint of teasing, and he bit.

“Oh, you doubt me? Seriously?”

Bongju let himself pulled close by the hem of his trouser, which he undid with a few motions. He never cowered from her gaze, not once since they knew each other. And this time wasn’t any different. A determination clouded his eyes — a challenge even.

Fang tugged his head back again when he thrust into her effortlessly. He smiled at her a little, cluthing her hips with strengthened grip enough to keep her in place. She sighed in satisfaction from his deep work, high crawling up and up and up.

Yet, despite all, Fang dictated the harsh rhythm with her hand on his scalp and another a firm support behind her. Her fingerprints on his neck and the her shine on his chin rotted his well-groomed look to the point she always liked to see in the end. They strained to each other, bordering on wrestling and fucking, moaning into a too open night. Bongju broke the eye contact only when his cock throbbed inside her, leaving his head fully held by her fist.

He groaned alongside her as their orgasm shuddered through them. A screeching noise cut into their panting as her hand dug into the metal container behind. She bent the material under her palm by the involuntary burst of channelling.

That brought a final victorious feline smile on Bongju’s face while they slowly settled. His eyes twinkled as Fang released his locks and gave a wicked smile of her own.

“I’ll give you this one, doll.”