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Something is off.
Dongsik senses it the moment he walks in, grocery bag heavy in hand. The house is quiet, too quiet almost. No music to soothe the silence, no kiss hello to welcome him back. If it weren’t for the extra pair of shoes arranged neatly by the door, he would’ve just assumed that there’s no one home. But someone is home, and that someone is sitting at the kitchen table, cradling a glass of half-drunken wine. He stalls in his step.
“Are you all right?”
Juwon uncorks the bottle and pours him a drink. “Have a seat,” he says, nothing more.
There’s a slight slur to his speech, and coupled with a slouched posture, Dongsik can tell that this is not Juwon’s first round. It’s likely not even his second. Whatever he has to confess, it can’t be anything good. Juwon doesn’t drink much these days, and as far as Dongsik is concerned, he’s never once used it as liquid courage. Discomfort lodges in his gut. This is not the mood he wants to come back to.
He sets the groceries on the counter and pulls up a chair, careful not to let its legs squeal against the freshly polished floor. Juwon slides his glass over. Dongsik declines. Instead, his eyes search Juwon’s own, and he tries to gauge the difficult words long before he actually has to hear them. He finds nothing in the depths.
“Drink,” Juwon tells him.
“I think I should stay sober for what you’re about to say.”
“We’re fine,” he clarifies, as if sensing his reservations. “I’m not breaking up with you.”
Dongsik levels his gaze for a moment more, then he eases. But the reassurance does not provide as much relief as he thought it would. Juwon’s still averting him.
“Should I be worried?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.”
“You can tell me. I’ll understand.”
Juwon swirls his wine, mouth muted. Dongsik watches him closely, his gaze ghosting along the pink cheeks to the reddish lips pursed in contempt. It’s strange. Juwon doesn’t usually flush when he drinks.
Ah. It clicks.
“You’re embarrassed about something.”
The glass stills in Juwon’s hand. So that’s it. When it comes to shame, or lack thereof, Juwon is a force to be reckoned with. There is just one thing that gets him tongue-tied. It’s a bedroom request, Dongsik knows. An embarrassing bedroom request.
He eases in.
“I’m willing to try a lot of things. No shame in experimenting.”
Juwon’s brow furrows, and for a second, it seems as if the words never mind are on the tip of his tongue. But ever the unpredictable one, he winds up finding his voice.
“You can refuse,” he starts. His words are slow, tentative, almost like he’s stringing them together as he goes along. “You can say no, if it’s—if you don’t want to, if it makes you uncomfortable, or if it disgusts you.”
It drifts like smoke, this strange inquiry. If it disgusts him? There aren’t many kinks that feasibly fall under that descriptor, and while Dongsik is more than happy to entertain the wildest of ideas, there is a line he must draw. He can only wonder what kind of proposal warrants an open bottle. They’ve tried many things from roleplay to restraints, petplay to punishments, all good. It must be something more extreme. His fingers curl around his glass. He downs it in one go.
Juwon doesn’t follow up.
Dongsik cranes his head and pushes on. “Is it specifically something you want me to do to you?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
Juwon’s eyes flick up then away. Again, he doesn’t answer.
“Aigoo, so prideful, you can’t even use your own words.” A small, teasing smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, but when it doesn’t help either of them, he rescinds. “Does it involve an object?”
“No.”
“A public space then?”
“No.” Juwon hesitates. “Yes, but no.”
“What does that mean?”
“Yes to public spaces, but it’s not that.”
Noted.
“Do you—” Dongsik pauses and contemplates the next guess with discretion. “Do you want to pretend it’s non-consensual?”
“No.”
“Do you want to be unconscious while we do it?”
“No.”
“Whatever you have in mind, I doubt I would be that opposed. As long as we talk about it, and it doesn’t put you in actual danger, I can make it happen. Or I can try.”
“It’s nothing intense. It’s just—shameful. For me. But I want that.” He says the last part so quietly that Dongsik nearly misses it.
“You want to be humiliated.”
Juwon bites his lip.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
“In what way?”
“Verbally.”
Juwon tightens his grip around his drink, but he doesn’t go for another sip. It’s a little endearing, Dongsik thinks, seeing a man as straightforward and confident getting so flustered over a simple request; but he supposes nothing is ever truly simple with Han Juwon. Fortunately for his dignity, Dongsik is more intuitive than he lets on. He gets the gist of it. But there’s still something more, this he can also tell. He can sense the tension that knots Juwon’s tongue.
“What else?”
“I want you to—” Juwon screws his mouth shut. He frowns, then he tries again. “When you—come, can you—you know.”
“I’m only going to agree if you ask.”
“So you do know what I’m asking for.”
“I have an inkling, but I don’t want to make the wrong assumption. That would be bad on me.”
“Please. Dongsik.”
“Juwon, my love.”
“If you know, then that’s enough.”
Dongsik hums and settles back in his seat. He pours himself another glass.
It doesn’t take long after that for Juwon to reattempt. His perseverance is admirable.
“I want you to—fuck.”
“You want me to fuck.”
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Teasing me.”
Juwon goes for the bottle. Dongsik pushes it just out of reach. There’s a huff of resignation.
“You’re not making this easy.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s humiliating, yes.” That’s the point.
Juwon stares at him, his silence a shy plea. Dongsik doesn’t give in, so Juwon does.
“When you—” He stops, his nose scrunches. Dongsik can’t help but pity him a little. “I want to, no. I want you to—”
“Come in you.”
“On.”
“On?”
Their eyes meet.
“I want you to come on me.”
Dongsik lets out a low whistle. That’s right about what he had in mind; but to hear that Juwon wants it, to hear him say it out loud, it sends a pleasurable tingle down.
“On you,” Dongsik repeats. He can see it clearly, so clearly. Juwon on his knees, Juwon with his mouth slightly open, eyes pleading as he’s forced to wait. “That can be arranged.”
“How did you know?”
“You used to be so insistent on using condoms. Double-checking to make sure I had one on, but you stopped doing that recently.”
“To clue you in,” Juwon grumbles.
“I got it after the second time.”
“Then why did you continue using them?”
“Like I said, I’m not going to agree to anything unless you ask for it. Can’t fault me, you’re cute when you’re nervous.”
“Not nervous.”
Dongsik glances at the wine.
“You’re a terrible liar.” He peers back. “Where?”
Juwon mutters something.
“What was that?”
“Chest,” Juwon says a little louder.
Dongsik’s stomach twists at the sound of that. He lets out a slow breath, lets the words digest.
“Chest,” he echoes, soft. “I can do that.”
“And inside—in me. I’ll allow it.”
Inside. Meticulously clean and adamantly neat Juwon, giving him permission to come inside. Dongsik stares at him, his gaze darkening.
“Where else?”
“... I haven’t thought that far.”
“Where else?”
“Face.” It’s barely above a whisper, this timid confession. “You can also—mouth—in it. I’ll allow that too.”
Dongsik falls quiet.
The silence stretches thin, the air thickens. It becomes harder to breathe.
Juwon wants him to come in his mouth, on his face. That beautiful, speckless face that’s often wrought with disgust at the mere thought of dirt. That face. Admittedly, Dongsik had flirted with this idea in his most private fantasies before, again, who can fault him. He just never got around to asking because, well, he didn’t want Juwon to feel obligated to please him. But it’s different, now that those words, these desires, are Juwon’s own.
“Okay,” Dongsik says.
Juwon stills. “Okay?”
The chair screeches, polished floors be damned. Dongsik rises to his feet. He casts a look across the table, lets it linger on parted lips as he closes in. Juwon peers up at him. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, a bit of fear laced with anticipation. It’s the same kind of greed that manifests during those cruel nights with a worn leather belt.
He pushes his fingers into the carefully styled hair and angles Juwon’s head further back. Juwon allows him. Dongsik leans down then, warm breath ghosting along a sharp jawline as he whispers a promise and a threat, “I’ve been wanting to make you messy.”
Juwon wavers under his words. The edge dwindles, and his mouth parts ever so slightly in a soundless plea.
Dongsik loosens his grip.
“On your knees.”
It takes Juwon a second to process the command and a second more to obey. His sights drift under Dongsik’s steady gaze.
He eases out of his seat and sinks to his knees so gracefully, so naturally, that it almost seems practiced. His hands are confident as they reach for Dongsik’s buckle. It clinks against a loosened zipper. Dongsik holds back, but Juwon doesn’t; he presses his cheek into the strained heat, mouths along the clothed length, and breathes him in deep and heavy. Dongsik commits this all to memory. Just a year ago, Juwon was repulsed by the very idea of going down on him, of doing anything before a shower; but now—look at him. So eager to draw him out, so desperate for a taste.
His fingers trail from the soft hair. He cups Juwon’s chin, his caress oddly gentle. It’s rare for him to be this kind behind a closed door. But his mercy is fickle, it’s short-lived. He guides Juwon to look up at him. Thick lashes flutter: once with expectation, then twice from ache. Juwon starts to salivate into Dongsik’s palm, unintentionally so.
“Poor thing. You’ve been deprived.”
He smears the spit across Juwon’s cheek and gives it a light slap.
“Drooling all over me like a pathetic little pup. Open.”
When Juwon does, Dongsik reaches in and captures the dribbling wet tongue between his thumb and index. It twitches, but it doesn’t recede. If anything, it seems to welcome his touch. He toys with it, pulls it out. How obscene.
Dongsik lets go and leisurely cards his fingers through Juwon’s hair again, thoroughly dampening the dark locks. Then he stops, his hand rests on Juwon’s nape, an area most sensitive. He brings him forth.
“Suck.”
Juwon doesn’t need to be told. They’ve been here many, many times before, but this is the first Dongsik has seen him as keen. Juwon shifts forward. He tugs back the foreskin and leans down to flatten his tongue against the base. Then, without breaking eye contact, he slowly drags his tongue up along the length—hot breath torturous, make it agonizing—and finishes with a playful flick over the slit where pre-cum beads.
Dongsik draws in a sharp breath.
Juwon closes his mouth and savors it.
It must’ve been an aphrodisiac, because with one taste, Juwon is addicted. Dongsik can see his wolfish hunger as if Juwon had been strung up and starved. He doesn’t hold himself back. His tongue swirls around the head, and he taunts it with a few quick strokes. It’s not enough, but Dongsik doesn’t have to tell him that. He doesn’t have to tell him anything because Juwon understands.
He tries harder.
With his fingers tightening around Dongsik’s shaft, Juwon suckles the tip, hollows in his cheeks, and makes a show of catching every drip of pre-cum that trickles out. Dongsik bites his lip, wills himself to keep his hips and hands still. Juwon isn’t, by any means, the most experienced. His technique is messy, his movements off-beat, but he makes up for what he lacks in finesse with urgency and eagerness. Dongsik knows he can just shove it in, cram it down, fuck that greedy little mouth, and Juwon would let him. But he also wants to see him work for it.
In every sense, Juwon does.
He goes between twists and flicks, rough strokes and inelegant licks; and when he opens his mouth wider to take Dongsik down inch by inch, Dongsik nearly loses it. He nearly comes then and there. His fingers find Juwon’s hair a second time. It does nothing to help his restraint; Juwon interprets it as encouragement. He breathes through his nose before moving in closer, going in deeper and deeper until Dongsik feels himself bumping against the slippery back side of a closed throat.
Juwon gags.
But it doesn’t stop him.
There’s resolve in his eyes as he readjusts and tries again. He grows desperate with each attempt, failure has never been an option, but when he just can’t seem to swallow it, he sits there with the cock hard and heavy on his tongue, whimpering a little in disappointment. The vibration sends a warm tingle up. Dongsik tightens his grip. There’s drool, so much drool. Pooling at the corners of Juwon’s mouth, running down his chin. His eyes are glazed over. His cheeks burn a deeper red, so red that it looks like Juwon needs to—
“Breathe.”
Juwon ignores him.
Dongsik attempts to pull him back, push him away, but Juwon refuses to budge. His nails dig into Dongsik’s thighs, and he glares with intent. Let him, let it happen. What Juwon wants, Juwon gets. He’s never been told no.
“I said breathe.” Dongsik yanks him off. “I won’t have you suffocating on my dick.”
“But I want to,” Juwon rasps. His dilated eyes search Dongsik’s own, roaming the depths for a reason why he can’t. “Please. Let me. You said it was okay.”
He tries to move in once more, tries to seduce and coerce with a lewd tongue—but Dongsik denies him. Juwon catches himself on his elbows and stares up in bewilderment. One second, two. He doesn’t learn, he tries again. This time, Dongsik rests a foot against his groin, feels its heat radiate. A warning, do not.
Juwon surrenders.
The air constricts.
“Did you really think you could make me come just by slobbering all over me like a bitch in heat? I told you to suck.” Dongsik leans over, presses in. “So eager to have my cock in your mouth, shoved down your throat, you couldn’t even follow simple instructions. What makes you any better than a cocksleeve?”
“I’m not,” Juwon says softly. “Please.”
Dongsik grinds his heel into the crotch. It twitches under his taunts.
“Please what?”
Juwon doesn’t answer. His gaze trails down, his tongue mindlessly dampening his lower lip in hopes of being fed. Dongsik takes his foot off. Without missing a beat, Juwon pushes himself up and eases back onto his knees. This time, he waits.
“Look at you,” Dongsik purrs, curling his fingers around his length. He gives it a few lazy strokes then brushes the tip against Juwon’s plush red lips, tracing its cute cupid shape with a streak of translucent white. What a mess. Juwon’s mouth parts for a taste, but Dongsik presses a thumb against it, barring his tongue from such gratification. “You used to be so insistent on keeping yourself neat and clean. So quick to wash dirt off of you, but when it’s another man’s spunk, you’d go as far as pathetically begging for it. Please what?”
“Use me,” Juwon whispers, dazed.
“How pitiful. A prideful, young master reduced to nothing but a cheap little cocktoy used solely for daddy’s pleasure.”
“... No.”
“No?”
“Use me as…” Juwon’s cheeks grow hotter. “I want you to use me as a cum dump.”
Dongsik stills. It’s not what he’s expecting to hear, but his imagination runs wild with the idea. He can see it, the wretched vision, his wicked intentions: Juwon on his bruised knees, wrist bound raw, drenched in cum. Beautiful, how it drips from a loose tongue. Beautiful, how it trickles down a broad chest. Specks of white woven into his messy dark hair, strewn across a tear-stained face, mingled with spit and sweat. His mouth is slack, his eyes drunk with delirium. He doesn’t recognize this Juwon, but he can get used to it. It’s a Juwon only he is allowed to see. This is his Juwon.
“Please,” comes a quieter whine. “I want to be dirty.”
His skin pricks with tingling heat. Being a man of his age, Dongsik’s had a lot of practice with patience—but seeing Juwon this needy, hearing a plea so pitiful—he can’t help but give in. He shifts his thumb to the side of the swollen lips.
“Open up.”
Juwon does as he’s told. His mouth drops open, and a pinkish tongue peeks out. It lays over his lower lip, an invitation of the erotic sort. Dongsik accepts. He rubs the head against Juwon’s tongue, coats it in white, teases him with a taste. Then he guides him forth and feeds him little by little until he prods the back of the throat where the pathway bends. Tears well up in Juwon’s eyes, but he doesn’t resist. He remains kneeled in position, fingers limply clinging to Dongsik’s wrist as he lets his throat be used.
He chokes.
Dongsik presses on. He knows it’s uncomfortable, knows it’s better to keep it shallow, pull out—but fuck, Juwon is gorgeous with his mouth stretched wide around his cock. Dongsik strokes the soft hair, soothes him slow. He knows Juwon is determined to swallow him whole, his boy is stubborn like that.
Being persistent works.
Juwon readjusts, relaxes his jaw, tilts his chin up a bit more, and starts to take Dongsik in deeper and deeper and deeper—until every last inch is squeezed snugly down the tight throat, until his nose is buried in Dongsik’s musk. The corners of Juwon’s eyes crinkle with relief then. He seems proud, happy almost. He’s done it.
“Good,” Dongsik praises. His hand trails along Juwon’s throat, drifting across the small bulge he’s created. “You took me in so easily. One isn’t enough for you, is it? You can take more.”
Juwon hums in agreement.
“My dirty little slut, so desperate to be stuffed stupid with cock. Who else can you take?” He grabs a fistful of hair, his grip lacking remorse. “What about that prosecutor friend of yours? Your old tutor. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, as if you’re his. Do you want him, too?”
Juwon’s eyes widen.
Something stirs, a darker desire.
“You can fuck him if you want. Spread your legs, whore yourself on his cock, and work him for every last drop. I’ll allow it.” Dongsik leans down, his voice dipping low and dangerous. “But once you’re done being his bitch, you’re going to plug yourself up and come home to me. You’ll be so loose and sloppy with his cum, I’ll be able to slide right in. I’ll fuck him so deep into you, you’ll feel him running down between your thighs for days. How does that sound?”
Juwon moans around him. The vibration has Dongsik biting back a groan, but that’s the extent of his restraint. He rolls his hips just a bit, subtly shifting his cock with shallow thrusts.
“Should drive you around town while you’re still dripping wet. Show you off and make sure everyone knows how secretly filthy you are. To see someone they so highly regarded begging to be bred, reduced to a back alley dump. They’ll each want a turn. Maybe if I’m feeling generous, I’ll let them jerk off on this pretty face. Would you like that?”
Juwon squeezes his eyes shut then. He shudders and he shakes, his body convulsing in stuttered waves, his throat constricting the thickness it has trapped deep. Tears dampen his flushed cheeks, drool dribbles.
A pause.
Dongsik nudges the clothed tent. It’s thoroughly soaked.
“Did you just come?”
He pulls out.
A string of spit lingers behind.
Juwon draws in a shaky breath and peers up through his long lashes, brimming with shame.
“I didn’t mean to,” he says, his voice small and scratchy.
“You were so turned on by the idea of being passed around and used as a public toilet, that you came untouched?”
Juwon mutters something.
“What was that?”
“Yes,” Juwon repeats.
Dongsik lets out a breath of disapproval.
“You’ve made a mess of yourself.” He nudges the damp patch again and feels the warmth throbbing beneath. A hum, less delighted. “Since you’re done, I suppose I am too.”
“No,” Juwon says quickly—and loudly, at that. He licks his lips and lowers his volume. “No, you haven’t come yet.”
“I’ll finish off in the shower.”
“No, that’s—you’ll waste it.” He sounds frantic, he looks frantic. “You can use my mouth. You can use me, fuck me however you want. Please, Dongsik. You promised.”
“I only agreed. I didn’t promise.”
Juwon looks up at him, his fingers pathetically grappling at his hems.
“Use me,” he whispers. “Daddy.”
Oh. This is a first. Juwon likes it when he uses the term but has always held back on saying it himself—until now. Dongsik relents. He wraps a hand around his shaft, pinches the tip, and gives it a few slow strokes.
“Tell me where.”
“Face. I want—I want you to be the first one to come on it.” The first. Dongsik doesn’t miss that part.
He watches the way Juwon watches him. With his eyes blown wide, pupils darkened with desire, sleek black hair to swollen red lips, Juwon is an absolute beauty in this dim light. It’s the messiest he has ever looked if a tear-stricken, spit-stained mask is anything to judge by; but Dongsik likes this side of him. He likes Juwon when he looks his worst.
“Stick your tongue out.”
Juwon does so obediently.
Dongsik lets himself go. With a few short jerks, his movements stutter, his stomach tightens, and a wave of pleasure courses through in ripples. He releases onto Juwon’s face in spurts. It coats his eyelashes, splatters across his cheeks, and collects at the divot of his pink tongue.
There’s no protest.
No look of disgust, no dismissive scoff.
Juwon kneels there before him, drenched in white, his gaze locked on Dongsik’s own as if to say, look at me, look at what you’ve done to me—and look, Dongsik does. He nestles his cock against Juwon’s face and uses it to smear the cum all over the soft skin. Juwon leans into it, nuzzles him, almost. And when the pool of cum gathered on his tongue begins to ooze out, Dongsik sweeps it up with his thumb and roughly rubs it around Juwon’s lips.
“How vulgar,” Dongsik muses. “Clean yourself up.”
Juwon closes his mouth and swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. A moment later, his tongue darts out to clean the mess left behind, careful to sweep up every last drop that he can reach.
Dongsik cradles his jaw and leans down to kiss him, slow. He pries his lips open with gentle coercion and trades a little sweetness for the faintest trace of salt.
They part with a softer breath.
“You did well,” he murmurs.
Juwon kisses him again, lets it linger as a small smile appears.
“You too.”
It takes them a moment to come around, and a moment more to make their way to the shower.
Dongsik finds himself quiet. Something twists within him, a subtle discomfort lodged in his gut. Juwon doesn’t seem to notice, though. He lathers Dongsik’s hair with shampoo and works the bubbles through the curls. It’s then, after several minutes, that Dongsik finally speaks up.
“Did I go too far?”
The hands still. “It was good.”
“Was there anything I said or called you that you didn’t like?”
Juwon begins to slowly massage his scalp.
“The part about passing me around,” he says after some thought.
“Sorry, I should’ve—”
“No, I liked it. A lot.”
“Didn’t think you’d go for that kind of thing.”
“I didn’t think so either,” Juwon mumbles. He pauses then adds, “It’s just a fantasy. I don’t actually want to sleep with other people.”
“Good. I like having you to myself.”
Dongsik closes his eyes as Juwon guides him under the showerhead to rinse out the shampoo. The water runs. It’s cold, but neither mind. They stand there with Juwon’s arm wrapped around Dongsik’s waist, his forehead resting against Dongsik’s shoulder.
“How was it for you?” he asks.
“Mm.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “You’ve gotten better at taking me down.”
“I had practice.”
Dongsik turns his head to look at him.
“I bought a fake one,” Juwon explains, notably flustered. “I was just—I wanted to see if it was possible.”
He stills. The image of Juwon sitting alone on his days off, slobbering over a fake cock, trying to deepthroat it appears. It’s so vivid, Dongsik almost feels jealous of the damn toy.
“... I also bought a plug. It’s in the lower drawer on my side.”
Dongsik raises an eyebrow.
“You planned this.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Juwon admits, his nails lightly scratching Dongsik’s skin to ease the embarrassment.
Cute.
Dongsik chuckles and gives his ass a light smack.
“We’ll use it next time.”
*
As it turns out, Juwon isn’t just good at keeping his dichotomous sides at bay, he’s better at it than Dongsik himself.
While Dongsik bounces his leg at the mere thought of Juwon bent over the dirty substation toilets, Juwon warming him under his desk, Juwon spreading himself open with his fingers and telling Dongsik to come inside, it’s okay, I’ll allow it—the real Juwon sits deceptively still one seat over.
It’s a stark contrast.
During their day-to-day affairs, Juwon maintains a near perfect front with his carefully styled hair and neatly ironed uniform. There’s not even the slightest hint of what goes on behind the closed door, but once that door is closed, he is quick to shed his layers. His clothes always come off first, then his mask, then finally, his pride. He hangs them all out to dry as he sinks to his knees for Dongsik, his hands finding the zipper in haste.
Today is a little different.
It’s a slow day at work. Quiet, since the young and boisterous Team Two is out on patrol.
Dongsik lounges back in his seat and mindlessly checks his phone. To his left, Oh Jihun appears equally bored, slouched against his swiveling chair with a twice-solved Rubik’s cube in hand. To his right is none other than Han Juwon, who happens to be the only one at the substation that’s actually doing his job. Dongsik finds it admirable. Diligence is hard to come by these days.
There’s nothing out of the ordinary, nothing really, but Juwon is a lot more reserved than usual this morning. He keeps to his lonesome, keeps his head down, keeps his mouth shut, and types away at his keyboard—rather aggressively, might Dongsik add. He can only wonder who’s going to be on the receiving end of this furious report.
Minutes go by, then a few minutes more.
Juwon doesn’t look up, doesn’t speak a word, but he does appear increasingly flushed every time he moves in his seat.
The chief notices the moment she steps out of her office.
“Inspector Han.”
Juwon stops typing.
“Are you okay?”
He misses a beat but answers, “Yes.”
Dongsik turns to him and decides, with cheek and nerve, to play into the concern. “You sure? You look a little flustered there.”
Juwon glares at him.
“Hyung should go lie down,” Jihun pipes up, suddenly keen on something finally happening. “I did the laundry yesterday, so the sheets in the backroom are fresh.”
“I’m fine. It’s just—” Juwon shifts in his chair and sucks in a breath through his teeth. His eyes momentarily close, his fingers tightening around the armrests. A few counted seconds later, he eases up. “It’s nothing. Just a migraine.”
Dongsik slides a bottle of painkillers over oh so innocently. Juwon throws him a pointed look, which Dongsik tactfully deflects behind a mug. He hides his mischief with a sip. Juwon is not impressed, and from the sounds of it, neither is the chief.
“Are the two of you fighting again?”
“Fighting? No, of course not,” Dongsik says at the same time Juwon grumbles, “Something like that.”
“Well, work it out when you’re on patrol. We don’t need any of that negative energy in this space.” She narrows her eyes on them then snorts, shakes her head in amused disbelief, and disappears back into her office, muttering boys right before the door closes.
A minute after, Dongsik receives a text from her: You should try couple’s counseling. Sometimes it helps just to talk it out with someone. Here’s the number to the one I’m seeing. Peak hilarity, Dongsik thinks. He rolls his chair over to show Juwon the text, but even that is inexcusable.
Juwon leans away from him. “Don’t.”
“I just wanted to show you something.”
He scoots closer and tries again.
“Lee Dongsik,” Juwon snaps, his ears glowing a darker shade of red. “Don’t. Do not touch me.”
Huh, he hasn’t heard that one in a while. Normally, Juwon would be begging for him to do the exact opposite—but if Juwon doesn’t want to be touched, then so be it. Dongsik can play along. His eyes drops down, they linger for a longer second, before flicking back up.
“All right,” he says.
The realization is immediate. Juwon opens his mouth to clarify that’s not what he meant, but a quick glimpse past Dongsik’s shoulder at their unfortunate third wheel has him eating his words. Defeated, he returns to his report, or well, tries to. Dongsik doesn’t have high hopes. Judging by the way Juwon is sitting—on the edge of his seat, posture stiffened, fists tucked as he avoids even the most minimal movement—Dongsik can tell that nothing’s going to get done. Once Juwon enters a delirious state of mind, it’s hard to steer him away.
Unless, of course, Juwon has enough self-control to will it back.
But he rarely ever does, and Dongsik knows as much.
Fifteen minutes go by, then thirty.
Team Two returns.
Juwon practically leaps from his seat at their arrival. He grabs his vest, grabs the keys, and shoves past without greeting either. Both officers raise an eyebrow each. Dongsik waves it off, excuses the behavior with bad migraine, he was dying for some fresh air. (Never mind the fact that Juwon could’ve just walked out for it anytime.)
By time he makes it outside, Juwon is already buckled in on the driver’s side of their patrol car. Dongsik opens the passenger door and pokes his head in.
“Let’s switch. Don’t think you should drive today.”
“It’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can stay focused.”
Dongsik gives him a look, gives him another chance to reconsider, but Juwon doesn’t budge. So Dongsik tucks himself in and pulls the seat belt taut. He hooks a hand around the grab handle just in case. Maybe it won’t be that bad, he reasons. Juwon only has to move his hands and a foot to drive.
They turn onto the street, and for some time, all is well. As per usual, Dongsik makes small talk to ease the silence. Mostly useless observations, nonsensical comments, none of which warrants an answer, none of which usually gets an answer—but Juwon is oddly responsive today. He hums in agreement, scoffs in disapproval. And when it quiets down, he even makes an attempt to carry on a finished conversation.
It’s only when they’re on the back roads that Juwon mentions something completely off-topic.
“They need to pave new roads.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them.”
Dongsik sits up to look at the street stretched in front of them. “It looks fine to me.”
“It’s unsafe,” Juwon continues to say.
“Unsafe?”
“Broken gravel. Debris. Too many potholes. The district can get sued if any—” He stops abruptly, his lips falling open with a soft gasp.
Dongsik peers over. Juwon is positively glowering at the road now. His hands are clenched around the steering wheel, his knuckles ghost white.
Ah.
They’re driving down an older street, one that boasts loose gravel and low dips. It’s not, by any means, the smoothest ride, but it isn’t noticeable. At least, not to the average passenger. But to an overly sensitive Juwon who can feel every bump and rock, he supposes these roads are less than ideal.
A smile teases Dongsik’s lips. He leans back at an angle so he can watch the stoic masquerade slowly unravel.
They hit another fissure.
Juwon lets out a breath.
“Really should fix these roads.”
“Yes, I heard you the first time.”
“They really should,” he insists.
“You had no problems with them yesterday.”
Juwon glares at him.
“Eyes on the road, love.”
Juwon glares at the road.
“When we get home—fuck.”
Another bump, Juwon loses his thought with a choke.
They make a sudden left at the intersection.
Dongsik tilts his head. “What are you doing?”
“Taking a detour,” Juwon grits out, his face hot.
“We can’t go off route. It’s against code.”
“These roads are against code.”
“I’ll file a report when we get back.” His gaze trails down, noting the very obvious tented trousers. “Poor thing.”
To Juwon’s distress and Dongsik’s absolute delight, the road they’d turned onto is even worse.
Juwon slows down considerably and looks as if he wants to make a u-turn to go back—but as fate would have it, it’s a one-way street. It’ll be a few minutes before they hit the main road. Dongsik knows this, and he doesn’t do anything. He simply watches as Juwon gives into squirming a bit to relieve the pressure. Mistake. He tries to silence the softer whines, tries to hide the subtle movements, but Dongsik sees it: each inconspicuous grind, every swivel of the hips. Juwon’s ears are flushed back to a brilliant shade of red, his breathing now labored. It must be torturous being constantly reminded of what’s snugly tucked inside.
Dongsik, ever the cheeky one, decides to it’s in his best interest to prod.
“Do you need to pull over?”
Juwon’s mouth parts, presumably to utter a no, but he lets out a hiss instead. He writhes into the seat, his act thoughtless. It’s so indecent, so crude, that Dongsik is certain that Juwon isn’t fully aware of what he’s doing—or how he looks, for that matter.
“We can switch.”
Juwon bites back a sound.
“Pull over.”
“Are you…” Juwon pauses, eases on the brakes, and takes the extra second to recollect himself. “Are you going to take it out?”
“Not until we get home.”
“I—don’t think I can wait that long.”
“That was the promise.”
They come to a stop, and Juwon has half a mind to turn off the engine before unbuckling his seat belt and dropping his forehead onto the steering wheel. His eyes screw shut, his chest heaves. It’s fortunate they’re on a secluded road.
“You all right?”
A pitiful whimper.
“Get out. I’ll drive.”
A shaky breath, nothing more.
“We’re almost done with our shift.”
“I can’t wait,” Juwon whispers then. He pushes a rough hand against his groin. It clearly doesn’t help. “I’m—I’m close.”
“Already? I didn’t even touch you.”
“It’s pressing into, pressing against me. I can feel it moving and it’s, your—cum, it’s leaking out, I can hear it.”
He grinds against the seat, and true to his words, Dongsik picks up on a rather distinct squelch. That’s not good. This isn’t even their car. This is, in fact, the worst car for them to be in.
Dongsik sits forward, his sights lowering. He never thought he would live long enough to see Juwon lose his composure at work, at least, not in this way. But here he is, palming himself in broad daylight.
Their radios beep.
Juwon, who is always the quickest to answer, ignores it—or perhaps he didn’t hear it over the cum squishing within him. Dongsik is fine with it either way.
“I need to take it out,” Juwon tells him in a pathetically small voice. He turns his head ever so slightly to look at him. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with need. “Let me take it out.”
“No.”
“Dongsik, please.”
“You haven’t earned it.”
“What do I have to do? I’ll do anything, I’ll…”
Dongsik doesn’t entertain the offer. Not yet.
Juwon swallows the rest of his words and slumps back from the steering wheel, his head tilted as he ruts against the leather seat. A moan spills out, his legs fall open. He fumbles to undo his trousers and grows desperate as he shoves a hand in-between his thighs to grope the ache. Dongsik unbuckles himself and leans over, but Juwon doesn’t seem to care, lest notice. He rolls his hips, bucks into his hand. It’s shameless.
“Did I give you permission to touch yourself?”
“I’m sorry,” Juwon says weakly. “I’m sorry, I’ll be quick.”
“You’ll be quick. Then what? You’re going to come all over your uniform, all over this seat, and then use that same hand to drive us back to the station?”
Dongsik grabs his face, makes him look.
“I got you off this morning, thinking it would help you contain yourself until we get back home, but you couldn’t even wait that long. Touching yourself while you’re still on the clock, rutting like a needy whore. What if you were on patrol with someone else? Would you show him what you’re showing me? Begging him to take the plug out, spreading your hole wide, and letting him fuck you using my cum as lube, how disgusting.”
Juwon arches in his seat. A stuttered breath escapes.
Dongsik silences him with a firmer grip.
“You wouldn’t even care whose cock it is. You’re so desperate to be bred, you’d fuck anyone who looks at you.”
“No,” Juwon groans. “Only you, I only want—”
Dongsik pushes his face away.
“Take it off.”
Juwon doesn’t need to be told twice. He shoves his pants down then hikes his knees up just enough to reveal a small toy sticking out. It’s coated in a sheer layer of cum, a little leakage no doubt from all the unruly movement. Dongsik slips a hand between the trembling thighs and gives the plug a teasing twist. Juwon’s mouth drops open in a gasp, he clenches around it, clamps it tight.
“Doesn’t even have to be a real cock,” Dongsik drawls, shallowly thrusting the toy into the greedy hole and admiring how easily it gets sucked in each time. “You seem satisfied with a piece of plastic. I should just leave this in since you like it so much.”
“No.” Juwon grapples at his wrist, his eyes widened as he searches for pity. “It’s not the same.”
“No?”
“It doesn’t come. Yours does. I want yours.”
“You already have my cum inside of you.” Dongsik traces the puckered red rim and gathers the bit that has leaked out before bringing it up to present the evidence. “Look.”
“It’s not enough. I can take more.” He reaches over and runs a heavy hand along Dongsik’s inner thigh. It draws dangerously close but it doesn’t dare touch. Their eyes meet, and Juwon begs, “Please.”
Their radios beep again.
They both ignore it.
Silence stirs.
The tension snaps.
Juwon moves in first. He latches onto Dongsik’s mouth, tugs his lower lip between his teeth, and kisses him hard. His fingers are just as eager. They fondle with the button, the zipper, and with an impatient yank, he manages to get the trousers undone enough to dip into the heat. Dongsik bucks into the touch, shifting ever so slightly to give Juwon more space to stroke him to fullness. He returns the favor by ripping out the plug.
As Dongsik draws back to the passenger side, Juwon is quick to follow him over. He plops himself on Dongsik’s lap, straddles his thighs, and grinds into him. It’s a little cramp, a little uncomfortable, but they make do.
He feels it. The wetness trickling down Juwon’s legs, seeping into the hems, soaking through his uniform. And he can smell it, the distinct musk that is his own. It’s strong, a bit overwhelming, but Juwon seems to like it. He breathes in the heavy air as he slips a finger in to work himself open and dig out the rest of this morning’s release. Then, with his palm completely coated in cum, he grabs Dongsik’s shaft and slicks it up.
Dongsik latches onto his waist, tilts his head up to look at Juwon’s pretty face.
“You ruined my pants,” he tells him.
“I don’t care. I’ll make it up to you.”
Juwon is quick to deliver on that. He lifts himself up and takes a hold of Dongsik’s dick, guiding its tip to his already loosened hole. It slides in easily. More cum oozes out. It squelches between them, smears across their skin, and makes a sloppy mess that neither can clean without a cold shower. Juwon doesn’t appear to mind. If anything, the feeling of sitting in a pool of cum seems to encourage him. He bites his lip and wriggles up the length, letting Dongsik slip out just a bit before sinking back down. A low moan escapes as he takes him to the hilt. He does it again and again, each time dropping his hips quicker, rougher.
And Dongsik—Dongsik finds himself unable to move. His nails dig crescents as he watches Juwon bounce on his cock, rhythm erratic. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. It’s obscene, the way Juwon comes undone on his lap, the way his mouth falls open with each thrust. It’s vulgar, the noises he makes as he shoves himself on the cock so desperately, fucking the used cum so deep into him that Dongsik can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to fuck himself pregnant.
He tightens his grip on Juwon’s waist and angles up, meeting the thrusts halfway. He fucks him hard, buries deep, brutalizes his slick inner walls, and makes him his. Juwon can fuck other people if he wants. He can’t stop him, he won’t stop him, but at the end of the day, Juwon has to come home to him; and to make sure he understands that, Dongsik bites. Teeth sinking into skin, right at the curve of his neck. Marked.
Juwon falls apart then.
His head lulls onto Dongsik’s shoulder. His hips stutter, and his body shakes. He comes with a cry and slumps against Dongsik to catch his breath—but Dongsik doesn’t let him rest. He smacks the side of his leg.
“Did I tell you to stop?”
Juwon makes a helpless sound but doesn’t defy. He rolls his hips, works his thighs, and continues bouncing on Dongsik’s dick, riding him with shallower, slower grinds.
Dongsik slaps him again.
“Do you want my cum?”
“Yes,” Juwon rasps.
“Then work for it, boy.”
“Yes, daddy.”
Juwon wriggles down, writhes against him, his movements growing ruthless as he fucks himself stupid on his daddy’s cock. A string of incoherent pleas spill from his lips, they dissolve into senseless noise that Dongsik doesn’t bother deciphering.
He wraps an arm around Juwon’s frame and pulls him in, pulls him closer, holds him tight. His eyes flutter shut, he tenses, and with one final thrust, he comes, releasing inside the loose heat. For a moment, he goes perfectly still, his breath catching in his throat. He can’t feel himself, can’t feel anything, lest think. When the tingles eventually subside and he calms back down, he finds Juwon still moving on his lap, still riding him out, as if milking him for every last drop.
“Love.”
A hum of acknowledgment.
“Look at me.”
Juwon slows to a stop at the sound of that. He sits upright, his dazed stare finding Dongsik’s own. Dongsik reaches up and brushes the damp hair out of his eyes. Juwon mindlessly leans into his touch.
Their radios beep for a third time.
Dongsik answers it.
“Inspector Lee speaking.”
“You’re supposed to answer even when you’re on break,” comes the chief’s voice from the other end.
“We—” His voice cracks. He clears his throat. “We ran into a little problem on the road. Something with the engine. Juwon’s taking care of it, though. We’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”
A pause.
“You’re letting Juwon get his hands dirty?”
His gaze drops between them. It’s a mess—cum splattered across their uniforms, smeared along bare thighs. Juwon, himself, doesn’t look any more presentable. He’s fucked out, drenched in sweat and drool, his face still flushed a pretty pink.
“It’s fine,” Dongsik muses. “Inspector Han doesn’t mind getting down and dirty every once in a while.”