He Chose You (Pt. 2)
Lucifer/Reader
Rated E for the smex coming next chapter I SWEAR. ((Also there will not be any non-con in this fic, so please don’t worry. You’ll see when you read.))
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End
Tag Requests: @loslox, @for-hearthand-home, @navierkalani
‘The worst thing they could be are swingers.’
Your heart was racing, and you felt ridiculous for how uppity you felt at the prospect of having dinner with your two elderly neighbors.
Normally, meeting new people would cause a healthy amount of anxiety in you. You’d grown up into a recluse and upholding social niceties took most of your energy. It was even worse to be in their home, and among people that you likely did not have much in common with.
These were personal reassurances that you told yourself after denying the first invitation for dinner with the Farrows. The guilt you felt, paired with the subsequent relief of not having to spend more than five minutes with your chatty neighbor, stirred an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach.
Of course you’d been unable to stop thinking about what a wretch you were, how karma was going to bite you on the ass for denying an old couple some company.
And oh Karma did come back to bite you. Hard.
You felt like you were hanging by a thread at work. Three weeks into the job and you’d already been reprimanded. Even the memory of your supervisor looking down her nose at you from the other side of her desk made your eyes water.
“We have a ‘three strikes’ policy here. I’m afraid this will count as your first.”
Never having been fired from a job notwithstanding, you felt like the idiot your parents always purported you to be.
If you’d have just stayed in your hometown, living off your parents’ good graces and kept your head down, instead of prancing out the door as if you had self-respect and no need for a safety net…
Maybe things wouldn’t be so dire.
Maybe you wouldn’t be on the verge of having a panic attack at this very moment, feeling the anxiety and restlessness from declining the previous invitation tenfold.
With a deep breath in and out, you crossed the hall with the hesitance of a mouse approaching a snap-trap. You knocked on the door to Unit 606 with a shaking hand.
There was a moment left to blanch at the realization that you hadn’t brought anything with you. Like the shittiest, most thoughtless guest ever.
——
“You made it!” Mrs. Farrow held her arms out dramatically. “Come in! Come in! You’re right on time! Oh and you look lovely dear!”
“Thanks.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks as the door closed behind you.
The layout of the apartment was a mirror image to yours, but you were overwhelmed by just how much stuff had taken up the space. From the kitchen to the living room, the apartment was brimming with kaleidoscopic color. Antique statuettes of unknown deities, handcrafted vases and sculptures in-set with gems and gold filigree, expertly framed posters of old Hollywood, and Persian rugs beneath well-worn furniture were visible from just a cursory glance.
It distracted you from the unusually bitter, earthy smell that assaulted you upon entering.
“Wow,” You said in genuine awe. “Your home is lovely.”
“Aw, you’re too kind sweetheart. Too kind. Here, let me take your shawl - we’ll hang it up on the rack here, see.” She took your cardigan and placed it on an old hat stand before steering you out to the living room by the back of your shoulders.
There was a man sitting in a leather armchair adjacent to the couch. He was wearing a tweed jacket and his silver-blond hair had been combed back finely to show a pale, wrinkled face and eyes so dark they shone almost black in the lowlight.
He looked at you with interest once you’d finally caught onto his presence, and opened his mouth to speak.
‘Quack!’
“Lou!” You laughed as the duck came racing over on its little legs.
Without delay, the bird climbed onto your flats with an impatient flap of its wings, trying to balance while looking up at you adoringly.
You couldn’t help but reach down and pat his little head, murmuring ‘hellos’ and ‘how you doing buddy?’ softly and sweetly.
The man opposite you both smirked. “My wife was right. He’s quite taken with you.”
“I’m always right!” Mrs. Farrow called out from the kitchen.
You looked to the kitchen and back to, presumably, Mr. Farrow, an uncertain smile on your lips.
“Welcome to our home.” The elder man’s voice was almost hypnotically deep. His hand was outstretched and waiting. “Please excuse me for not greeting you properly. When you get to be as old as I am, your body does everything it can to make you stay put in one place.”
You shook your head. “Oh no, please don’t worry about it! I understand.”
Mr. Farrow’s smirk seemed to soften as you spoke.
“Please make yourself comfortable, my dear.” When he gestured to the couch, you awkwardly shuffled to sit down. Lou was right on your heels, loathe to spend even a second without your warmth.
The duck ended up snuggled on your lap after begging to be lifted as you sank into the plush sofa. And you were grateful, hugging Lou to you gently as if he were a plush toy.
It helped take your mind away from that spine-tingling feeling when it made a comeback — the way Mr. Farrow’s eyes glittered when he looked at you and his duck.
‘Oh god, they probably are swingers. And they lure in their targets with this crazy well-trained duck.’ You thought, punching yourself in the face mentally. ‘And you fell for it. Walked right into their den of debauchery. You stupid bitch.’
“Here’s some water, honey. We’ll save the stronger stuff for dinner.” You jumped in your seat when Mrs. Farrow appeared at your side, setting a glass of ice water down on the end table beside you.
You reached for the glass as its contents sloshed over the edge. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Farrow.”
Mrs. Farrow beamed.
“What did I tell ya, Warren? Isn’t she lovely? Just a peach. Lou is smitten.” She patted your shoulder. “And it’s Cassie, honey. Call me Cass.”
“You were right, Cass.” Warren Farrow intoned.
He took on a conspiratorial tone as he addressed you once more. “You must know, my wife hasn’t stopped talking about you since you met the other day. I wondered if she was preparing us for a new roommate.”
Heat flooded your face for the second time. “Aw.”
“Oh poo, as if you wouldn’a done the same.” Mrs. Farrow sniffed derisively. “Dinner in 5 minutes!”
Her exit left room for you to start a conversation, but you couldn’t find it in you to say anything. Mr. Farrow kept staring, smiling, which made you stroke Lou’s feathers for comfort that much more.
The silence lasted a little while, save for the clinking, crackling, thudding from the kitchen dining room. Aside from catering to Lou, you surveyed your surroundings in an effort to avoid bouncing your legs.
The Farrows didn’t have a TV, only a large fireplace that they’d positioned their furniture around. There were displays on either side of the grate. On one stood an oversized chalice with intricate, swirling patterns. The other had a statuette of a goat-headed figure sitting crisscrossed on a throne, one arm poised to reach out to the sky.
“Baphomet.”
You turned from the sight, head swiveling to face your human companion. He was eying you keenly again.
“O-oh, the statue is…?”
Warren nodded. “Baphomet. Conceived as a false god around the time of the crusades. Most people see him as a depiction of Satan these days.”
The association wasn’t too far-fetched, you figured with another look at the figure. Its goat-head and large horns were the most eye-catching thing about it.
“I apologize if the sight upsets you, dear. I hadn’t thought to remove it before your arrival.”
“Oh no, please. It’s alright.” You said. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s very interesting.”
The rumbling hum at your side seemed to signal approval, or maybe general geniality with your neutral response. “Are you religious by chance?”
You turned to Warren again.
“Ah, no.” You replied apologetically. “I grew up in a Christian area, but I was never very involved with the church.”
Warren nodded. “That’s just as well. The institution and its practices can be stifling. I was never very involved with it myself.”
“Religious artifacts have always been fascinating to me, however. There’s no shortage of temples and synagogues in this world.”
“Have you been to many? For the history?” You were genuinely curious.
The old man nodded again, stately and dignified even as he puffed up in his armchair like a peacock. “Cass and I are seasoned travelers. We’ve been to all 7 continents at least twice, seen the wonders of the world from the Hindu shrines in Malaysia to St. Basil’s Cathedral. I have a particular fondness for those countries surrounding the Mediterranean Sea. I was able to convince Cassie another trip to Rome wouldn’t put us in the poor house last year.”
Your little huff of laughter was sincere, though the idea of traveling to Rome - or anyplace outside of the familiar - sounded amazing. “I’d love to be able to do that.”
Warren’s head tilted to one side. “You’re quite young, I’m sure you’ll get the chance if you haven’t already.”
“Sure.” You scoffed before immediately falling into contrition. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me —”
“Dinner time!”
Mrs. Farrow hollered from the kitchen, stopping you from trying to come up with a suitable excuse for yourself.
Luckily, Mr. Farrow chuckled good-naturedly. He rose from his chair stiffly, legs visibly straining. “No need to apologize, my dear. But we best get going before the Missus comes out and drags us by our ears.”
——
All things considered, the dinner was perfectly fine.
The jitters never left your frame, but you had chalked that up to a simple byproduct of your skittish nature. The red wine that Cass had insisted upon you made you feel warm and solid, at least.
As did the fact that Cassie Farrow could hold entire conversations all on her own with very little effort or input from yourself.
“You got a boyfriend, honey? Or girlfriend? No shame in that at all. We may be old but by no means bigoted. We’ve been all over the place, seen so many things - what’s natural to you and me could be the furthest from, in certain places. Isn’t that right, Warren?”
“Men in Ancient Greece often had relationships with other men.” Warren replied. “Royals in Europe had extramarital affairs with different sexes. It was all about keeping the bloodline pure, but romance was a different thing altogether.”
“I haven’t dated in a while, actually.” You said. “It’s not been a priority.”
Cassie nodded, exuberant as she drank from her wine glass. “That’s good too! Plenty of independent women these days! It’s about time, I say.”
‘Quack quack’
Lou was beside you, red eyes locked in as he gazed upon you at the dining table. It made you giggle.
“Mm!” Cassie had a spastic moment. “I almost forgot!”
The chair lurched out from under the old woman as she rose and scuttled out of the room. It left you blinking, and out of the corner of your eye you saw that same smirk on Warren’s face before his wife had returned.
She had a small wicker basket in her arms.
“This is for you, honey. Housewarming present from your kooky neighbors across the hall.”
As she drew nearer, you caught a glimpse of the contents, some of which shone beneath the light of the overhead chandelier.
“Thank you! You really didn’t have to.” The basket was pressed into your arms and Cassie was back in her seat before you’d finished your sentence.
“Nonsense. It’s the least we could do. I still can’t believe no one welcomed you for a whole week!”
The basket was lined with shredded filler, and nestled in between were little gemstones and crystals.
“There’s jade and ruby in there, and I believe there’s moonstone as well.” Mr. Farrow recalled. “Is that it, Cass?”
“Yes, yes, and carnelian too. It’s all scattered about there, with the Scrabble and the socks and the hand cream and oh!” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Forgive us honey, we saw that little rubber duck and just had to get it for you.”
There was a little rubber duck. It was a novelty type, with a tiny red jacket and a tiny black top hat.
“It’s a carnival barker. No, it’s something like that. It’s on the tip of my tongue.” Your nose scrunched in thought. “Oh, a circus ringmaster!”
“Exactly! See, what’d I tell you, Warren? She loves it!”
“I believe I was the one who suggested it.” His voice carried through the otherwise silent dining room.
“Oh well maybe it was, so what. She likes it. Don’t you, honey?”
“Yes, but…” You felt funny again. Tingly. “This is too much. Really. You’re both so kind but I can’t accept this.”
A hand laid gently on your shoulder and you looked up at a frowning Warren Farrow. “It’s no trouble at all, my dear.”
“The cost must’ve —”
“No cost, really. Gemstones and crystals are quite popular these days. You can find them all over. And the little trinkets are just the same. Given to you in good faith of course.” He patted your shoulder gently.
You swallowed, eyes once again roving over the little mundane treasures. Silken feathers brushed against your ankle under the table and you met those red eyes, sparkling like the crystals in your basket.
Lou was such a funny little thing. So expressive, he looked as if he were waiting as he stared at you.
So funny.
… You felt funny.
Perhaps the anxiety from before was doubling back, just like that prickling sensation. It was less of a tingle and more a shiver or chill as you sat there.
“I think it’s about time for dessert, don’t you?” Mrs. Farrow was saying somewhere far away. “You like chocolate, sweetheart? I made mousse, all fancy-like. It’s not as fancy as the kind you get at that restaurant downtown, the Ivy, but they’ve got fancy ingredients and such…”
Reaching up to wipe the sheen of sweat from your forehead, you felt heat coming off from between your temples. With a shaky breath, you slumped down in your seat.
The basket was gone.
Your chair was scraping against the wooden floor as it was pulled out from the table.
“Are you feeling alright, my dear?”
Wrinkled hands swept the hair from your face as your eyes rolled in their sockets. Words couldn’t get past the cotton-dry feeling in your throat.
“It’s the wine, the wine. Said she’s not much of a drinker, it has to be the wine.”
Cass’s voice was dampened and thick, like it was trapped underwater.
Or perhaps you were trapped. Your head was spinning, limbs heavy as if you were a puppet sans strings. You had to be picked up from under your arms like a toddler and pulled upright.
The next second you were walking through your neighbors’ kitchen, the door held open for you.
“Maybe we oughta call a doctor? Honey, can you hear me?”
“I… yes. I can hear you.” It felt like an Olympic feat, but you spoke clearly. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s happening.”
You stumbled against the wall and strong arms caught you when your knees buckled. It was Mr. Farrow allowing you to lean on him, solid as a rock.
“Cass is right, you had quite a bit of wine.” He said. Another pat to your shoulder.
Did you? You could’ve sworn it was just a glass.
Your apartment was barren and blank, the smell of laundry comforting against the memory of that earthy incense smell.
“Get some rest, honey. We’re right across the hall.”
“Thank you.” You breathed, lying on your sofa bed. “Again, I’m very sorry. Thank you for the welcome.”
“Oh no, thank you.”
——
When you opened your eyes next, you were shrouded in darkness. The outline of your entertainment system was in front of you, and the kitchen at your right.
It was raining outside; little raindrops smattering against the glass. The sound was normal, no longer muffled until you were straining to hear it.
‘Well that’s good.’
The heavy feeling in your arms was still present.
‘That’s not so good.’
You felt perfectly sane and hysterical at the same time. It was like being caught in the eye of a storm. The danger had abated momentarily, but would begin again shortly.
Your door opened, and in your peripheral you saw a shadow cut across the wall as a new figure emerged from the hall.
You squinted in the dark. ‘Lou?’
The duck’s silhouette stilled as if you’d spoken aloud. You could feel something shift in the air, tension breaking through to your mind when it could not seize your body.
That shift grew stronger, sucking in the air around it until a dazzling flash and crack of light blinded you.
Lou’s shadow was gone. Or… it had changed. The shadow on the wall wasn’t a duck anymore it was…
Your blood ran cold as the man stepped into your apartment and let the door close behind him.
“Hello there!”
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Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 21.
Pairing: You x Baekhyun
Rating: M (Mature)
Word Count: 11k
Warnings: smut. what if we made a drunk sex tape. The next chapter will be the end.
A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.
Links: Masterlist The Letters (Bonus Chapter)
Tag: @his-mochi-cheeks
Your perspective on the other side of that patio door was a haze. You were drunker than you thought. Your quick stop at the empty bathroom just inside of that patio didn’t help sharpen your mind much.
The journey back to the grand ballroom, back to the party, had an odd buzz of excited whispering from groups of guests that you passed. Everywhere and all around you heads were leaned in close as they all giggled and whispered about some event that had transpired; some shocking party scandal. As you drew closer to your particular group of people you began to notice an occasional pair of eyes glance in your direction and just as quickly those eyes would look away.
The buzzing through your veins seemed once fully attributed to the alcohol suddenly felt just a little less warming and more chilling.
They were all very thrilled with whatever the news was. Highly amused in a sort of rubbernecker kind of way. Whatever had happened had no like effect on their lives. Whatever had happened would only ruin someone else’s life or worse, their career. You tried to make longer eye contact. You tried to gague what sort of a scandal it was this time. All the while wondering if you had done enough in your life to be on God’s good graces. If the $25 paycheck deduction for the local animal shelter had bought you enough good karma to save you this time.
With their whispered giggles and their snickering body shaking secrets group after group you passed seemed to be incredibly worked up as the gossip seemed to be spreading through the hotel like wildfire.
That chill in your veins had spread and brought a sinking feeling inside of your stomach. You felt made just a little queasy by it.
What if someone saw.
What if a right place right time eye witness saw you and Baekhyun out there on that patio just now.
What if a party guest out on a smoke break just happened to be walking back up the sidewalk at the exact right time and happened to look up at the exact right time and happened to recognize your super sparkly dress or his blue satin suit and what if, what if, what if someone in one of the apartment homes directly across from patio was putting their child to bed after a bedtime story and as they were drawing the curtains to shut out the nighttime lights they happened to catch the both of you in full on, middle school textbook visual description of heavy petting, just so happened to know a guest at this very party who just so happened to have seen you both walk out there toward that patio and what if, what if, what if a phone call was made or a picture was sent and they put it together that you and Baekhyun had been sleeping together all this time; even and especially when you were his direct supervisor and in charge of things like his schedule and his bonuses and his promotions and his performance review oh my god his performance review the one you got fucked on top of and ruined and then directed him, as his supervisor to forge just as you had directed him as his supervisor to engage in sexual intercourse on company property on company time you were at least guilty of time theft and extortion and sexual harassment and fraud. Charges like that, even with the best lawyers, even if you beat the charges, your reputation would be ruined and you could face thousands upon thousands of fines and lawsuits and maybe even go to jail. Could you survive prison?
You weren’t the type to brag. This was a reality of your situation. But fucking hell, you were too pretty for prison.
Phones were buzzing on tables; lighting up around the darkened space like twinkling Christmas lights and you suddenly remembered you had one of those too and you pulled it out of the clutch bag you miraculously still had with you.
Your screen was lit up with notifications. Several of your work group chats had several unread messages and the messages were still coming in.
Your eyes scanned the incoming words desperate to find the subject of all of this mess.
‘No way!’
‘Omg I can’t believe it.’
‘That’s fucking crazy!’
You’d come into this too late. You quickly unlocked your phone and began scrolling up through the apparently bombshell that began all of this commotion and after several seconds of scrolling you came across the beginning.
‘!!!!!’
It started with an appropriate commotion and the next message instantly had you exhale a long sigh from deep within your lungs that seemed to take ages for all off the air to fully exit your body.
‘Chet just got dragged out by security and he’s being arrested for peeping in the ladies bathroom. Someone said he was laying on the floor taking pictures up skirts! What a fucking creep!!’
The relief felt like a light switch was flipped; with the instantaneous flood through your chest.
As quickly as the relief came a different worry. Despite the answer to your question being answered you still scrolled line by line through the flood of messages as your team members and other people in the agency discussed the news with ravenous delight. Word after word your eyes searched for his name. You searched for any possible connected to your name even if you had your doubts that these people would suddenly forget that you were also in this group chat if they wanted it start badmouthing you and spreading rumors about the incidentals behind why Chet happened to be in that hallway outside of the ladies room in the first place and who it was that might have been spotted having that big drunken loser onto the floor of that ladies room; surely they wouldn’t be doing that sort of gossiping in this group chat.
You were a manager but you hadn’t always been one. You knew for a fact that the lower tier employees had their own group chats and even amongst themselves they most certainly had broken off into even smaller chats where all of the juiciest bits of gossip were spread around.
You’d reached the end of the messages and the occasional buzz of your phone and signaled the arrival of something else was just a mirror of the same sort of sentiment.
‘He always gave me a bad feeling.’
‘Glad I never went on that date with him.’
‘I can’t believe this.’
‘He should be fired. Those woman would have to work with him again.’
This wouldn’t work. There was one person who you would ask to make sure your name and Baekhyun’s name hadn’t been connected to this in any way.
You found Sandi laughing and chatting near the appetizers and small bites tables.
Oh …food. You’d forgotten about food. Your drunken head swam and your stomach growled the moment you saw it and you slinked up silently right beside Sandi with your own little plate ready to grab something to eat.
“Sandi,” you whispered harshly beside her and she jumped and placed a palm over her chest, “I need to talk to you.”
“Jesus—” She groaned with her eyes closed, “someone should put a bell on you.” She mumbled under her breath.
You popped something that looked to be potato based into your mouth and chewed, swallowing quickly so you could drill her for what she might know.
You’d filled up your little plate and grabbed her by the elbow, ignoring the weird yelp she made when you pulled her behind you to some quiet corner where you could hear everything she said while also looking deep into her eyes for signs that she was leaving anything out.
“What happened with Chet?” You looked into her face as you said it and she looked back at you with the slightest pause in her words and mannerism before she actually started talking. When she did move it was to narrow her eyes and she looked over your face and then down over the length of you once before her eyes were back looking in yours.
“Maybe I need to ask you what happened with Chet.”
You looked down at your plate and popped another potato thing into your mouth, quickly grabbing another one because goddamn these were delicious, and you shrugged your face every so slightly as you chewed. You let your eyes land inside hers for a few seconds but then looked away again. You weren’t sure exactly why this woman was able to read you so well but you were quickly melting before her weirdly knowing gaze.
”What happened with Chet?” She said again in a quieter whisper and you sighed in genuine defeat knowing that this was going to take some explaining. She was going to need the whole story from the over the top flirtatious hugs as a greeting that he always insisted on, to the overheard conversation of Chet’s plans to basically conquer you for the sake of his ego and nothing else, as well as the way he seemed to feel that he was somehow owed something from you when you’d promised nothing and never had even given him anything more than professional politeness.
You had found a quiet place for this and had each grabbed fresh drinks and once you got talking you could feel her growing more and more irritated by that man’s terrible behavior. You heard the quiet gasps of surprise and her genuine laughter when you recounted the mop-water incident. You did your best to gloss over the entangled involvement of your boyfriend in this situation; but there was honestly no way around it when you got to the events of this evening that led up to Chet being outright arrested for sexually deviant behavior and the weird guilty feeling that bubbled up inside of your stomach when you thought that maybe he might be punished for something he didn’t even really do; not really.
Yes he’d grabbed you by the wrist and your wrist was still sore right now from it. You didn't know what his plans were with you. You didn't know if the man was just stupid or if he was actually dangerous but you definitely didn’t feel good about him being blamed for something he hadn’t actually done.
Sandi was giggling. You were feeling conflicted and she was too overcome with laughter to be of any actual help. Drunk Sandi was fun for scheming and gossiping, but you were looking for actual help here. When she finally got her giggles under control enough to talk, she did and with her words came the familiar relief you often felt when you shared any sorts of your worries with this woman.
“He wasn’t arrested. He was escorted out by hotel security, yeah, but I never saw any police. I think they just all got excited, you know how rumors are.”
“And you didn’t hear my name or,” you lowered your voice significantly and leaned in closer to her, “Baekhyun’s name connected in any way?”
She was giggling again, leaning closer as she whispered just as you had, “No, I didn’t hear his name, or your name, but Ma’am,” she emphasized the title with an over the top seriousness in her voice, “the way he looks at you…when he’s dancing with you…”
Her eyes had gone wide as her words trailed off and her mouth hung open briefly before she lifted a hand to fan her face dramatically. You had to cover your own face as the snort of giggles broke free from your chest.
“I don't know how anyone would survive that. You are strong. And I’ve never felt more single and more alone than I did watching you two dance — ohhh I’m getting mad just thinking about it.” She stood up with her empty glass and reached out her other hand for you to grab so you could come with her, “Come on, we need another drink.”
You grabbed her hand and quickly pulled her close to you so you could walk arm in arm with all of your silly drunken secrets and shared giggles. Both of your steps were a bit unsteady but together you at least had someone to lean on.
“You know you really are the most beautiful woman here tonight,” you whispered into her ear and she snorted out loud.
“Shut up. I look like a potato. Did you really have to go all out like this? Can’t you consider the rest of us?”
“If you are a potato then you are my loveliest sweet potato,�� you leaned a head on her shoulder and she snorted and playfully pushed your head off. The rejection, even if playful, it only made you grip her arm tighter and lay your head on her shoulder more forcefully.
“No, my sweet potato!”
“He better appreciate how lucky he is.” She remarked seriously with a severe look down in your direction and you looked up at her curiously and her serious expression softened and grew into a reticent grin. “I’ll kill him if he hurts you.”
Again and again, Sandi was on your side. Again and again she was such a good friend you even played with the idea that maybe this wonderful woman who you always thought of so fondly might very well be your best friend.
“Sweet Potato,” you called up to her loud enough so that you were sure she heard you call her. She didn’t really respond other than a Quick Look. You gave her a little shake, “Sweet Potato Sandi,” you called again and she laughed and said a very drawn out and extremely informal, “whaaaat?”
“Will you be my Maid of Honor?”
Your question stopped her forward steps and she turned with surprised eyes to look at you. You straightened your spine and looked her right in the face with confidence and sincerity and after a few moments her shoulders sagged and she lifted her eyebrows with a tiny shrug on her face.
“Me?”
You nodded in earnest.
“Okay,” she said quietly with the slightest pink growing across her cheeks and the tiniest smile that fought to break free on her lips.
Eventually though, the smile grew wider and she giggled out an excited squeal that you quickly mirrored with a quick little jump up and down while holding hands in delight.
“I can’t believe you’re getting married!” She whispered through the excitement.
“I can’t believe I’m getting married!” You said just a little too loudly. She quickly shushed you and laughed noisily to hide what you had just said.
“Who’s getting married?” A familiar voice called out over the loud music from the dance floor. Marci had overheard and she was smiling wide with glassy eyes and a curious yet very drunk slur deep within her voice.”
“My sister—”
“My sister,” both you and Sandi said at the exact same time and Marci’s eyes bounced from your eyes to Sandi’s eyes and back to your eyes before her smile sagged and she looked up into the space above her head as she tried to make sense of what she was being told.
“Her sister,” she said and “Her sister,” you said in unison and you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep from spitting out in laughter. Marci just blinked at you both with a sort of far away and very, very deep look of genuine and hopeless confusion.
“Whose sister?” She finally said and you leaned forward shouting over the music with a wide smile and you nodded your head excitedly, “yes!” You declared, purposefully deceitful and confusing.
You would be sure to add it to your list of many sins.
“Let’s dance!” You shouted and you and Sandi grabbed her hand and pulled the poor girl deep within the chaos of the heat and bodies of people dancing to the thumping beat of the dance song.
Time was a blur of songs and laughter. Occasionally, someone’s hands and someone else’s body bumped up against you.
You had somewhere deep inside of you, a quietly nagging voice that did its absolute best to remind you of things. Proper things. Managerial things like respect and your position as a person to admire and trust amongst these people. Sandi aside, most if these people had to take your instructions at face value and answer your questions, and at times respond to your professional demands. You knew deep down that you could not sever that image of yourself.
And you thought you did pretty well. You laughed with them and danced with them and shared in the joy of the evening while still keeping whatever parts of your mind you needed to keep intact for the sake of the dynamics of the team.
You experienced a few moments of control. You had a handle on it for a couple of songs worth of time; you began to trick yourself into thinking you could handle anything, even while drunk.
But when you saw Baekhyun, a switch was flipped.
He was with some friends; the same ones as before. A group of rowdy young men you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet but he seemed quite close with them.
You saw them laughing together, exchanging in some sort of noisy banter; it felt quite different from the playful way he acted with you; this behavior seemed much more daring, much more primal. If you had to compare it with something you’d aliken it to a group of almost feral, unsupervised boys left to their own devices on a playground together. Had they been younger, you would not have been surprised at all to see blood drawn.
One such ‘game,’ (and you hesitated to use such a word as there were discernible no rules) involved messing with some party favor on the table in a way that was never intended to be used. The result was one unsuspecting member of the group, who hadn’t been paying enough attention to his friends given the amount of danger he should have felt by sitting beside them, this one poor man was smacked right in the back of the head. At least it didn’t seem too painful of a prop to turn into a weapon. He wasn’t the original target but had been smacked quite dramatically nonetheless for the crime of sitting too close to your sweet boyfriend who had actually been aiming for another person.
The result was the same. Someone was hit. Everyone erupted in raucous laughter and a swift punishment was enacted on the offender.
You watched as they all grabbed your boyfriend by the collar, bent him over at the waist and unleashed a folly of smacks upon his back.
The entire thing was loud and violent. Baekhyun’s yells could be heard over the music and he came back up pink in the face and laughing noisily ready for whatever revenge the rules of this game allowed.
There was alcohol involved too. Apparently there was some step in the game that involved shots of alcohol. You couldn’t make sense of any of it.
You knew you were staring but you felt enraptured by his behavior.
Who was this man?
Where did your boyfriend go?
Was this really the same tender man who held you in his arms and night and declared his never ending love and adoration for you?
He was noisy and crass and annoying and he delighted in the ridiculousness and stupidity of this whole thing.
You weren’t sure which one of them noticed you first. But there was a sudden and dramatic shift in the atmosphere that came over the entire group and it manifested as a literal wave of change that surged from person to person starting from someone in the far right edge.
There was straightening of suit jackets and smoothing of hairstyles that had been messed by the ruckus. There was frantic tapping and wide eyes that motioned in your direction followed immediately by whichever onlooker quickly looking toward Baekhyun. Hands were on him, someone was motioning in your direction and their faces had a look of urgency.
They were calling his attention to you because you were looking at him and this in itself was significant to this group of men.
You wondered what they knew about you and about Baekhyun. What all he had told them and was any of it was enough to be used against you in a court of law.
Baekhyun’s eyes found yours and you had already begun to make your way off the dance floor to the table where you’d kept your drink and your bag along with the other girls’ things and you watched the atmosphere of Baekhyun’s group take on a much more secretive vibe.
They were, every single one of them, absolutely terrible spies.
There was an intense whispering happening. It all felt very dramatic. There was someone slapping Baekhyun quite hard on the arm and laughing as if whatever situation he had been placed in was too funny for non-violent enjoyment and Baekhyun turned to the slapping man, quietly bickered back and forth in an annoyed and scolding manner.
Your table was very close to them all and you’d reached for your drink to take a sip when out of the corner of your eye you saw a genuine stumble as a human man surged in your direction.
Someone had pushed him.
They all turned to look away from you the moment you curiously looked at them and Baekhyun completed the two final steps that it took for him to be standing right beside you.
“So…” he said under his breath. He was whispering to you and his cheeks were as pink as his eyes were glassy. Baekhyun cleared his throat and inhaled again, keeping his voice very low so you were the only one who could hear him. “My friends are pressuring me to ask you to dance and it would make their fucking nights if you said yes.”
You were sipping on a beer and you peered your head around his shoulder, catching at least four faces seconds before they abruptly turned away.
You looked back into his face with genuine amusement and you quickly licked your lips and swallowed away how obviously entertained you were by this.
Baekhyun watched your face and a single eyebrow lifted over his eye before he inhaled to whisper again. “You see, they all think I have a crush on you,” he added.
You recognized the upper hand you had in this situation. Should you give them all what they wanted? A bunch of silly men who wanted nothing more than to encourage and possibly humiliate their friend with his little crush.
“Do you not have a crush on me?”
Baekhyun leaned then, allowing his whispered answer to heat the skin of your cheeks with every word that puffed from of his lips.
“Baby, I do not have a crush.” He said the word with a deep and significant drawn oh emphasis on the last word. Then, from parted lips came the air from deep within his lungs that fanned over your face and smelled like the usual sweet scent of him paired with an obvious scent of all of that alcohol that surfed through his bloodstream.
“I am in love with you,” he urged with his focus locked tightly with yours.
His eyes held onto yours until he leaned in close enough for the darkness in his whisper to coat the back of your neck with goosebumps.
“Dangerously,” he growled and when he pulled his face back and his eyelids sank down hard on the after effects of that one word that sounded more like a warning than a term of endearment.
You set the beer back down on the table and reached a hand out to lightly touch his forearm; letting your hand trail slowly down the length of his sleeve until you reached his fingers. From the table of men you heard light gasps
“Let’s make your friends happy then.”
The moment your hand made contact with his and you took that first step toward the dance floor you heard a sound like a commotion coming from the group of men. It was half a cheer and half a groan and you turned back to see several of them taking shots of alcohol and wincing as it went down.
You looked back at Baekhyun in surprise but your boyfriend's face was the absolute picture of innocence.
“Even this is part of the drinking game?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiled sweetly but his bottom lip twitched like it does when he’s being just a little less than honest.
The smallest laugh broke free from your chest. You didn’t want to encourage this, but dammit he was cute when he was acting up.
If either of you had been less intoxicated you might have worked out the timing of this better.
You hadn’t even noticed that the upbeat pop song was about to end until you’d pulled him well onto the dance floor and turned around to face him ready for some manager/ex-secretary appropriate moderately close enough to touch maybe hands and forearms and the occasional only when absolutely necessary waist or chaste hand on a shoulder dancing, when the final happy and peppy beats of the song ended and the lights in the room went surprisingly dim as the notes of a new song began.
If you’d been in your right mind you’d have waited before agreeing to dance with him until you’d cleared the song.
If you’d been in your right mind you might not have gotten genuinely excited once you realized that this particular song; this sexy sultry deep r&b beat and with sexier lyrics; this was a song that you, in fact, had danced to before.
You had, in fact, learned a set of moves to this song, a set of rather risqué and rather provocative moves that you’d learned as part of a group dance fitness class at your local gym, appropriately titled Bad Bitches Dance Fitness.
You had your doubts back when you clicked to sign up for the class. But the instructor had a way of bringing the bad bitch out of you. When the first notes of this song started and you set your face for this, you made sure you looked right into his eyes as you struck the first sexy pose that opened the dance, you learned that not only was the bad bitch still inside of you; but apparently all she needed was some alcohol to come out.
Baekhyun was surprised.
You could see it in his face. His eyes widened and his lips parted as his eyes followed your sexy little prance in a full circle around him and when you reached a fingertip to touch his lips, dragging it down slowly down his chin over his chest, opening your hand to scrape your fingernails straight down the length of him it took him an honest to god moment to recover and react.
You stopped at his belt, thank God — not through any good sense on your own part, but the next move of the dance required you to bend at the hips, slip a bare thigh out with a pointed toe and when you flipped your hair up and let your body roll all the way back up, it was against his warmth as you did it. It was punctuated by the sharp exhale you heard come out from his lungs and the desperate darkness you saw deep in his eyes. The dance went on. It was risky as all hell with plenty of touching and even more flaunting certain parts of your body for the man.
It was dark enough now that not every single bit of this could be seen from all parts of this grand ballroom. The dark lighting and occasional strobing lights gave the illusion of some privacy. His table of friends was close enough though. From somewhere in the direction of their table, you could make out the hoots and hollers from the group of young men who seemed to be very excited to have been the catalyst for this kind of situation.
Baekhyun kept up with you. Despite the fact that he did not know the dance; he was enough of a musician with an obvious background in dance as well to know what might come next. He knew how to anticipate your next move and he moved his body with yours, despite the occasional hard clench you saw in his jaw and sharp gasp for air he took when you did something particularly bad.
You lived for those moments. The bits where he was overcome and so close losing his control.
You didn't have to let your hands travel so slowly over him. You didn't have to grab ahold of your own breasts the way you had done and make an expression that very likely reminded him of fucking you. These bits were never covered in the class; but you had very much lost control over yourself to the alcohol.
Every one of his reactions made you smile. It was a satisfied, truly naughty smile and you looked into his eyes, laying another hand just over his chest as you leaned in close to his face. Your eyes slid from his eyes down to his lips and you leaned in so close. It was dangerous. You swore you could feel the breaths from his mouth against your own. You felt the body heat coming from his smooth skin. You could taste the sweetness of the alcohol on his labored breaths.
You turned your head at the last moment. It was all part of the dance. This was just part of the tease. If you had a chair to sit him down in, you might even sit on his lap, straddling his thighs, letting him feel the way your hips would roll into him to the beat of the music.
But Baekhyun didn’t know the dance. You gasped when your backward step was interrupted by his strong arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He pulled you back into him roughly and your legs parted enough for his firm thigh to slip fully in between your thighs. You felt the dress resist on one side but on the other, that damn slit gave you permission; encouraged you even, practically begged you to straddle his thigh and grind your hips against him. You rubbed against the heat between his legs and you felt him there. Hot and hard and so very teased by you — all night long — nearly at a limit. The temptation was stronger than anything you’d felt before. You wanted to feel that friction pressing into your skin. You wanted his stuttered moans pushed deep inside your ears when you ran the palm of your hand over the rigid shaft you felt below the suit fabric.
A pair of eyes to your left caught your attention. Someone had genuine curiosity written all over their face and someone else’s own dance was interrupted as their eyes wandered over to this strange pair of dancers who really ought not be so close to each other right now, not like this, not in public, not when they shared a strictly professional relationship that never ever crossed any lines. Sure it was quite dark and alcohol was likely the culprit but still…
You needed some distance. He was so warm and he felt so good and his hand around your waist had traveled, slipping his hot hand down your ass and over to grip roughly into the flesh of your bare thigh. You’d had enough sex with this man to know what sorts of touches were a prelude to something more. A touch like this, with as hard as he felt between his legs, this was him drunk and him much too affected by your teasing. This was him having had enough of this. This was him wanting to fuck you.
You felt his hot breath exhale slowly over your ear. There was a throaty moan at the end of it, “f-fuck, baby,” he whined.
This had to stop. You needed to get out of his arms. You took a step back, placing a firm hand against his abdomen, you pushed yourself back hard and you stepped out from between his legs; disguising the movement with another body roll thanks to the perfectly timed out-tro it fit perfectly with your exit.
You had to bite down on your lip and control your breaths. It felt like they were pushing and pulling at your lungs with too much force and Baekhyun’s eyes snapped quickly into yours with that same darkness deep within his blown out pupils.
Your focus was wandering. It had been too much. It had been too obvious. Anyone who had even half paid attention would be able to tell that not only were the two of you already quite deeply in love with each other but the chemistry you felt between him and yourself on this dancefloor alone surely would have told them all that the sex had to be mind blowing.
Your eyes caught movement at your table; of course you’d had plenty of witnesses there. Beside your table stood a group of silently staring men with mouths gaping too surprised to give any sort of reaction and back at your table, you watched sweet Sandi lift a hand to her mouth for a noisy wolf whistle and she started cheering and clapping. The girls beside her cautiously lifted their hands to clap and laugh and the encouragement had a sheepish smile pulling up to your lips and you gave the group the smallest little drunken courtesy. Leaning into their compliments as if you had intended to put on such a show with that dance all along.
Beside you, Baekhyun had a hand on his hip and had just ran a palm over the length of his face, no doubt doing his best job of fixing whatever expression he might have; whatever secrets he might accidentally be showing that should not be shown.
His lips pulled into a smile when you smiled at him and without any other moves to make that could signify to all of your onlookers that the make believe, pretend, it was all for show, movie scene was over now, you lifted a hand in his direction and held it up for a high five. A high five was just the move to get that point across. People that slept together regularly didn’t give each other high fives. This was as platonic a move as you could think of. You were sure he would tease you about this for weeks.
“Great dance!” You said through false brightness loud enough for all of the people waiting for you at your table to hear.
He looked at your hand and then back down at your face and back up at your hand again before he lifted his own hand to give you the weakest, most pathetic excuse for a high five that you've ever received from anyone. His face had the uncomfortable kind of wince that a teenager might sport after being embarrassed in front of their friends by a supremely uncool parent.
Back at the tables you both parted ways and in between Marci’s questions, drilling you about where you learned to dance like that, your ears caught the occasional low guffaws, snickers of laughter and teasing quips bellowing out from the group of men that accosted your boyfriend.
“Man…a high five.”
“That’s rough, buddy.”
There were side conversations and occasional condolences. Some of the men had more hope that others and you were pretty sure they didn’t realize just how loud they were all talking.
“Don’t give up hope, dude.”
“You see the way she dances tho?”
“She a baddie.”
“Way outta his league.”
“If a girl like that gave me a high five I’d just go home and never come out again.”
“Shhh — he’ll hear you.”
You reached for your clutch and pulled out your cell phone; keyed out a short text message and hit send as you pushed yourself up from your seat at your table and let the girls you were going to take a quick bathroom break.
Your message sat unread for long enough for you to make it clear across the dance floor toward the hallway with the bathrooms. You may have imagined it but you could practically feel the change the moment he had read it. You could feel the heat of his eyes watching as you walked away from him. When you rounded a corner you turned back and found his eyes easily as if you’d always known his focus would be only on you.
‘Bathroom by our patio has a lock’
You were walking through the lounge areas past the smaller groups of party goers who congregated there; seeking a little more peace and quiet for some whispered and intimate late night conversations.
Your feet carried you easily through the spaces and with each step as your heels hit the tile floor and echoed all around you it felt like the bang bang bang of a hammer as your hips swayed and you walked with the confidence of the kind of baddie who might propose a forbidden rendezvous such as this.
It was the alcohol. It was the dance. It was the way he smelled and the warmth of his breath as he moaned into your ear. It was the taste of the alcohol on his sweet breath as you inhaled against his face. It felt forbidden, doing something like that with the eyes of so many people on you both. It was the grip of his fingertips as he held onto your thigh and pulled you hard against his dick.
There was no one around. You’d journeyed through several spaces that were completely empty by the time you reached this bathroom door. You pushed the door open and stepped inside rewarded with the silence you knew you’d find in here.
This was a big party but this hotel was so massive the odds of any lost guests finding their way to this end of the building were astronomically small.
The inside of this bathroom had a cozy yet still tasteful feeling. You could tell it was a luxury hotel by the heated hand towels neatly rolled on the surface of the immaculately clean countertop and the floor to ceiling wooden doors that closed off the bathroom stalls. You walked by the cushioned bench and full length mirrors to stand in front of the sinks.
Your reflection looked back at you and you scrutinized the expression you saw in your own eyes. You hardly recognized yourself. Your skin was just a little bit damp looking from the dancing and you were flushed all over. The flush seemed to be more than just from the alcohol, more than just from the dancing and the exertion. It took a couple of deep breaths through your parted lips and a couple of blinks and only then did your mind clear enough for you to actually see yourself clearly. So this is what you looked like to him. So this was the look in your eyes when you wanted him badly enough to seek out a place of privacy even if that place was a bathroom of all places.
You had to inhale a deep breath and look away from the mirror. You felt too crazed for this level of self discovery. You could feel the desperation bubbling up to your surface, your own once carefully curated resolve made so flimsy and weak by a little alcohol … and by him. The light was bright but not harsh and you leaned a hip against the marble countertop as you watched the door for signs of movement.
Baekhyun’s arrival at that bathroom door came with a sound first. Two soft knocks against the wood made with a single knuckle.
You leaned forward and pulled the door handle open and he stumbled a bit until he was leaning against the open doorway with his eyes cast downward, not yet looking at you and definitely not coming inside with nearly the urgency that you would have expected of him right now.
You reached a hand out and grabbed ahold of his. He gave you his hand without protest and when you pulled you had his eyes looking up into yours as he took two steps inside where you urged until he was standing fully inside this silent space in front of you. The door closed behind him.
His brown eyes were on you and his lips were parted as he breathed through those parted lips and after a few moments of watching your face in silence he closed up his mouth and his head sagged back just a little bit.
Having him here in front of you did something to the anxious energy you’d been feeling before he came in. He wasn’t touching you at all except with his eyes but just looking at his beautiful face pulled a smile to your lips and you backed against that countertop again and leaned against it as you simply let the warm feeling take over your chest as the smile grew.
His expression was changing. His face had looked quite collected and controlled when he came in here but the longer he looked at you the more you saw. His focus refused to stay up in your eyes as his had dropped slowly over the length of your body.
“You —” he breathed out with his eyes down on your bare thighs, “you might actually kill me tonight.” He pulled his eyelids up and narrowed his focus on your face as he spoke.
“You know exactly what you’ve been doing to me. Looking like this — in this fucking dress. Dancing like that. Teasing me and then leaving me. Making me — making me desperate.” His hands flew around with every other sentence, pointing and gesturing all over as he ranted.
You felt an unparalleled satisfaction from hearing his many complaints about you from tonight. You knew you were acting up. You knew you had been teasing him and then leaving him wrecked and part of you had been so very weak to him that you simply could not keep yourself under control around him, not when you had been drinking so much. Your only link to reality had been those moments when faced with the very real possibility of exposing your entire relationship to everyone in here that you retreated from him. Running away, giggling the entire time for just how very naughty you were being.
You couldn't stop.
It was wrong of you.
But it was fun. He was fun to tease and the long list of grievances he was airing right now only pulled your lips into a wider smile that you tried your absolute best to bite down on to blank away. It didn’t work, of course. He saw.
“And you’re smiling,” he said with a lift of his eyebrows and his lips pulling into a smile that didn’t have any humor behind it. He closed his eyes as he lifted a hand to rub over the length of his face.
The same naughtiness that you felt pulling at your strings and making you do these terrible, awful, inappropriately teasing things to him all night long pushed you to take a step forward, into his space.
You reached a hand out and dragged your fingers down the front of his shirt. You could feel the warmth of his chest below the fabric. You moved your hand lightly down the length of him dragging fingers along the edge of his necktie, reaching the very end of it you felt the folded edge of the fabric; that strip of unassuming fabric that moved with his breathing. With your fingers at the bottom you only lightly touched the very tip of his tie, the arrow that pointed downward, that part that laid just above his belt. You touched this spot again and again, letting your aim grow sloppy; letting your wandering hand graze lightly below the metal buckle of his belt and all of the warmth and heat you felt there.
“I’m going to get my hands on you,” his lips pursed and he blew out a stuttered breath that shook his bottom lip on the exit and he bit down on his lip briefly as his eyes followed your moving finger. His lips flew open and his tongue darted out to dampen the dryness on his bottom lip before he inhaled a sharp breath to continue his threat, “and there won’t be any stopping me. There will be no party we have to get back to. No songs that just ended.”
“No… fucking … high fives.” He exhaled through the curse word and you took a step into him.
You hooked his belt buckle with your index finger and gave the smallest tug, pulling your bottom lip into the smallest little pout you could manage as you looked down. You should probably pretend to be at least a little bit sorry. It took you a few moments to really sink that pout in deep and it managed to stay put when you looked back up into his face.
Baekhyun scoffed and he shook his head in disbelief. He lifted a hand up your face, bouncing the tip of his index finger lightly twice over the softness of your bottom lip.
“What are you doing? What is that?” His brows were furrowed and his teeth bared, “are you — are you pouting right now? Do you have something to pout about? Something like, oh, I don’t know, a three hour boner, perhaps?”
Your silly attempt at repentance vanished and you pulled your chin inward with the smallest itty bitty eye roll escaping against your will and through the doubts you clearly displayed on your face you mumbled under your breath, “I don't think — it was that long—”
Baekhyun's face flattened. His eyelids and his eyebrows settled into a completely serious expression and you could still feel the doubts and disbelief bouncing around inside of your head, “I mean…three hours—”
Baekhyun’s sudden movement cut off whatever nonsense you were speaking and he grabbed ahold of your right hand, pulled it forward palm open and he planted your hand squarely on top of his, very obviously, fully erect dick. The interruption and presentation of evidence pulled your jaw open as you held him in the palm of your hand and slowly moved upward along the shape of him.
“Did anyone see you come in here after me?” Your whispered question had pulled his eyes open. They had drifted closed with you touching him like this. As it was now, you hadn’t located his tip as he seems to have tucked himself somewhere behind his belt in attempt to just live with his new reality and what you had done to him.
“No idea,” he breathed through short gasps.
Your hand had reached as high as you could move without removing his belt and slowly, with firmer pressure, you moved your hand back down. You felt the push he gave with his hips into your touch.
“Are you mad at me?” You asked it with much of that same teasing smile on your voice and he shook his head quickly back and forth as his left hand flew up to lean against the bathroom door. After a few seconds you heard an audible click when he locked it.
You gasped in surprise when he moved and reached for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and easily lifting you up to sit on the marble countertop. The stone was freezing beneath your bare thighs and your skirt moved up high enough for a peek of your panties to show. It didn’t matter, he pushed his hips between your parted legs with the same roughness as he handled you. He pulled you into him with strong arms and fingertips that dug into your ass and every push, every bit of friction had your legs parting more; had you needing more than what was possible through the layers of clothing that separated your bodies.
“No,” he leaned in close to your face and spoke in a dark whisper, “but I might want to disrespect you a little while I fuck you.”
You didn’t have any time to form a response because his open mouth covered your own. He kissed you roughly and deeply. His mouth devoured yours hungrily and all you could do was gasp for air when he pulled back, sucking your bottom lip deep inside with the pull of his mouth until he let up enough only for his teeth to bite down. You tasted alcohol on his tongue and on his breath and you imagined you tasted the same.
You felt the culmination of tonight’s frustrations in his kiss. You felt consumed and had by him and when the hollow of his mouth released its hold on, you gasped out loud to feel his lips at your neck seconds before those same parted lips hovered just over the skin right above your jugular. He seemed to play with you there, his lips popping light kisses; his tongue darting out to taste the saltiness of your skin and only when you’d let yourself drift into this tenderness, only when you’d relaxed your shoulders and leaned into him as he kissed and tasted your skin, only then did he do it. Without warning; with the next soft and contented moan that left your lips his muscles tensed around you and his fingertips dug in hard again. At the same time, he pushed his face into your neck, right on the same spot he had been tasting, he suddenly bit down. His hard wet teeth were sinking in deep and he was biting down very hard. He made your breath catch in your throat. Your gasp was a half whine, half whimper interrupted by the shock of the pain you felt when he did it. He made your brain feel fuzzy and dizzy. Maybe it was the surprise, or the alcohol or maybe you hadn’t had enough of a chance to catch your breath.
You would have a mark — red or even the blue color of blood vessels burst just below the surface of your skin. You would touch lightly at this spot and feel a slight tinge from this.
Oh, he was everywhere.
You were quickly overwhelmed.
You could feel your heart racing inside of your chest and that overwhelming feeling felt like it might just burst through your skin. Every touch felt like more than the previous. He was constricting and tightening and he was lifting and pulling and pushing and the room spun; it spun in the confines of this tiny bathroom it spun and it seemed to come to some sort of a comeuppance. He was standing and lifting, his arms clung so tightly around your waist you lost the air inside of your lungs and when you opened your eyes he had found the padded bench and perched you right on top of his lap. You had somehow lost the panties.
“I want to fuck you so badly,” his breathing was rapid and heavy and his face was buried somewhere in your chest. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“You have to take your pants off first.” Your breath caught when you felt his mouth open up over your nipple; right on top of the sticker that covered it and he pulled it into his mouth, sucking, soaking it with his spit and biting with his teeth.
“You’ve got me so fucked. I’m going to cum the second I get inside of you.”
He won. His efforts won over the stupid sticker and you felt the sting of the sticky glue pull hard against your skin; against the most sensitive spots. “I don’t want that. I’m not ready for this to be over.”
You cried out from the pain as he ripped it off with his teeth in a single motion. “You feel so good. You taste so good. You’re so fucking hot.”
As quickly as the sticker was gone and the sting radiated through your nerve endings his mouth was there, pulling your breast into his hot mouth, sucking and biting. Pulling away and leaving you soaked.
You moved your hips over his lap. The firmness lined up perfectly with you; everything about Baekhyun always fit you perfectly. You could feel that desperate friction bumping against your clit with each pass. You chased that feeling, grinding your hips over him again and again, pressing your center atop his stiffness and delighting in the wild grunts that escaped the back of his throat as you did it.
”Don’t,” he breathed out, “don’t you dare,” he was whining with his arms wound around you tight, holding you down, making you stop the movements. You knew what he was saying. You could feel the change in him.
“So take them off, Baek.”
You pushed off of him first. With the way this was going he would cum in his pants before you got to feel him inside of you. His arms relaxed enough to let you go and you stood in front of him, the dress somehow still on, although pushed up very high on your thighs, but both shoulder straps pulled down and your bare breasts exposed, every single mark from his mouth and fingertips flashed flush and hot on your skin. You still had on the stilettos and he stared at you blinking and breathing and begging himself for just a few more minutes of control.
With each of his breaths came small facial twitches. His eyelids pulled down on the exhale and his eyebrows pulsed on his forehead. His eyes closed and opened again and his lips twitched, “You are unfair,” he whispered.
At last, you heard his movement. His hands were at his belt and the quick sounds of that metal buckle and the slide of his zipper resisted against the pressure behind it. He lifted himself into an unsteady standing position and pushed the pants off completely, leaving them crumbled on the floor beside the suit jacket, and the tie, and the shoes.
You lifted a hand behind the dress to find the zipper.
“Leave it on,” he said, reaching for you with both hands; you were spun in place and the heat and warmth of the length of his body warmed your back as his hands wrapped around your waist, one gripping your breast roughly and the other he slipped down between your legs. He coated your back. Behind you, behind your ass you felt him slipping easily between your legs. You were too wet for any resistance at all.
You were moving. He was walking and pushing you forward back toward that padded bench he had been sitting on but his fingers slipped within your wetness as he did it, bumping against your already too wet; too worked up center made it so hard to focus on much.
He moved you; pushing your shoulders down and holding your waist up tight, making you bend down in front of him and your hands hit the bench in front of you, your knees resting on the edge of it and your ass in the air. There wasn’t any dinigity in this. This was fucking. It was desperate and animalistic. His palms ran over the curve of your ass, pushing the fabric of your dress out of the way, slipping fingers in between your legs roughly as he did it. You felt more than desperate. Each of his touches was superficial. Each time, not quite enough. He was so close to you though and his knee nudged hard against the inside of your own knee, making you spread your legs further for him.
Baekhyun was shuffling behind you. Fidgeting with something and whatever it was, it didn’t last long enough for you to care because he was back behind you, this time his movements felt more purposeful. You felt the pad of his thumb dip between your folds and he rubbed over your clit. It made you whimper and moan and push back into him. He knew how to make you cum but he wasn’t doing it. Perhaps it was to buy himself some time to calm down. Maybe he was paying you back for all of the teasing.
“Baby, you are dripping.”
You knew you were. You could feel it. With how long and drawn out this evening had been; with how much you had been denied by him; you were sure you’d be a complete mess.
You felt the soft roundness of the tip of him, slipping in between your wetness as he pushed himself between your folds. This — this was what you needed. This was what you wanted him to do. The action made you squirm and push against him. You needed to feel this again. As he pushed in again, he was also touching you only this time you heard something unexpected. It was a striking and familiar sound that rang out. You knew this sound. This was a cell phone camera shutter. It made your eyes open back up and you looked behind yourself for answers.
Baekhyun was holding your phone and he leaned to reach for you; covering your entire back with his heat and weight he pushed the phone screen forward into your line of sight and you saw it. You saw the picture he had taken with your own cell phone. “Do you see how fucking pretty you look? So wet and needy.” His whisper into your ear had you reeling. He was still moving behind you, pushing his tip against your clit again and again; but not yet entering you.
Your eyes took in the image on your phone screen. His dick in the shot, pushing inside your wetness. Each push from him felt that much more intense with this image in front of you. You felt close to losing control and your eyes drifted closed as you dropped your head and gripped the sides of the bench tightly.
“Do you want a video?” He whispered this next question just at the moment when you felt the building pressure from his actions against your clit. He knew he was bringing you closer as he asked you this question. Your head was swimming. You couldn't process what he was asking you. “Do you want to see what I see when I fuck you?”
Did you want that?
Did you?
You reached for the phone, grabbed it and held it up for him to take. You felt his thumb replace his dick and he was rubbing again. The wetness between your legs increased and your breathing grew frantic.
“Is that a yes? Can I record a video of me fucking you?”
You nodded your head. You already felt it. Your legs were shaking and you felt the trembling as the wave of climax took your breath and your functioning mind and you cried out. It took you a second before you opened your eyes and your phone was gone from your hand.
He pushed inside of you then; in a single rough fluid motion and the inundation took you by surprise, making you cry out again. The sounds, the low grunts with his effort, the deep moans of pleasure, the whispered curses that flew from his mouth, all of the sounds from him hit you just as hard as each rough thrust into you. You felt a mess. The slight pain mixed with pleasure you felt with each thrust had you grasping to hold on to something. There was a new sensation. Something different and unexpected and he did something with his hand, pressing with his thumb in between your ass as he fucked you and you felt crushed; you felt dizzy and overcome and he was shaking and trembling; holding on so tightly to you in this way that made you lose every single thought inside of your head along with every bit of oxygen inside of your lungs.
You both must have lost your damn minds, doing this here, in this place.
You knew the oxygen must have been returning because this thought popped into your head after a few moments of clarity. Baekhyun plopped himself down onto the bench beside you and wrapped his arms around you waist, pulling you to sit down on top of his bare lap. You could still feel the mess spreading between your skin and his skin but you were too spent to care much. He was holding you tightly into him and you leaned your head back to rest against his shoulders, leaning your temple against his.
In front of you Baekhyun held up your phone. The screen was illuminated with the filthiest thumbnail of a video you’ve ever seen in your entire life, outside of occasionally desperate porn videos that you watched sometimes when you were lonely and frustrated with life.
You could feel every rough exhale from his lungs warming your neck and you turned your head to look at his profile out of the corner of your eye.
He pressed play on the video and it came to life, the real life, sinful sounds of the sex you’d just had with him. You felt oddly transfixed watching this. Not nearly as embarrassed to have this view of yourself as you thought you might have been and you felt even more surprised to see what he had done while in the height of both of your orgasms that had pushed you so over the edge at the time. The ball of spit from his mouth that landed right over your asshole. The thumb he pushed inside. Your mouth flew open and you turned to look at him.
His eyes were down on the phone and he was blinking slowly as he licked his lips and bit down. You lifted a finger to point at the screen.
“Is that what that was?” It came out as less accusatory and more of a curiosity. And you saw the tiniest grin pull at the corner of his mouth before he leaned his chin over and playfully bit you on the shoulder.
“Can I have this video too?” He whispered the tiny request and looked over at you after you didn’t respond immediately. “You can say no.” He said softly with a shrug. “You can just delete it if you want to.”
“Don't forget to delete it again from your recently deleted folder, if you do.” Something in his voice sounded quite pathetic and sad as he reminded you about the importance of being diligent when deleting your sex tapes. “I’m sorry I got drunk and spit on you and put my thumb in your butt and made a drunk sex tape with you, if that’s what you’re being quiet about.”
You covered your mouth just in time to catch the snort of laughter that erupted from your chest. This man’s post nut clarity was hitting him very hard and very quickly. From between your legs, and all over his bare lap you felt the wetness move out of you with every laugh and his face turned into a genuine wince as he seemed to hold his breath when he felt it too. You tried your best to stop the laughing but you were too amused by this nonsense.
“You can send it to yourself,” you finally said after recovering from the manic giggling. “I’m not being quiet. I am in shock.”
He bit down on the inside of his bottom lip and the smile on his face grew wide and self satisfied and he was moving his hands very quickly over your phone screen as if you might change your mind and take it back any second now.
“But you liked it,” he sing-songed with a playful shake of his head and you heard a buzz somewhere from the floor where his own phone was still tucked away inside his pocket.
“I have it now,” he said triumphantly and he abruptly turned his head to face you with a bright playfulness deep within his eyes. You looked back at him curiously, feeling that something was brewing here.
His smile widened and he, very slowly, and very annoyingly, lifted a hand up into the air in front of you, palm facing you. He held it up with that same wide smile on his face. This wasn’t a sweet smile. This was a teasing smile. His eyes were full of mischief.
“Great sex,” he whispered and those same eyes looked crazed as he motioned toward his waiting hand with the smallest whine that came from the back of his throat when you didn’t instantly give him what he wanted. He gave his raised hand the smallest shake for emphasis.
“I’m not doing that,” you said, pulling yourself up off his lap as you headed away from him toward the bathroom stall so you could clean up the mess you had all over the lower half of your body.
“Oh come on,” he said, standing up and following you. “Do it. Great sex. I said ‘Great sex.’ You have to do it. I feel,” he inhaled a trembling and very dramatic breath, “extremely cheated right now.” His hand was still up and he was chasing you around the bathroom with it.
You tried to close the stall door but he pushed his thigh through the space and after a few seconds you saw that same hand push through, palm up, stupid and expecting — no — demanding that you cooperate.
You would never know peace in your entire life if you didn’t do this.
You were also certain that you would never know peace in your entire life if you did it too, because both scenarios would encourage his ridiculousness.
You lifted the quickest hand and slapped his palm.
“Woo!” He shouted, “Got the high-five!”
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