Work Text:
Hongjoong feels cursed, truly cursed for whatever indiscretion he committed in the past, and now he's paying the price. Sleep has eluded him for the past two days, his mind relentlessly besieged by the intrusive thoughts of a certain someone. This constant mental agitation gnaws at him from within yet he maintains an icy demeanor in the professional sphere, inspiring a healthy dose of trepidation amongst his subordinates. He's renowned for his unwavering composure, a meticulously cultivated façade of stoic indifference and as the CEO of South Korea's most prominent fashion company, he is considered a figure of immense respect and notoriety. However, this meticulously crafted persona has become a suffocating burden, threatening to erode the very essence of his identity.
His thoughts race like a tempest in his mind; he can hear the man standing before his desk murmuring incoherently, but he can't decipher a word.
"Sir, are you alright?" The man, Mr. Park finally speaks, pulling Hongjoong back to reality. He nods absently.
"So, what are your thoughts?" Mr. Park inquires, his gaze shifting to the designs scattered across the desk.
Hongjoong hesitates, then replies, "I'll consider it and get back to you later." The man smiles and nods, exiting the office, leaving Hongjoong trapped in a maelstrom of thoughts and turbulent emotions. He glances at the designs, frowning as he roughly clutches a handful of his hair, disrupting his meticulously styled locks.
A knock interrupts him, and the door swings open to reveal Jung Wooyoung, the cause of Hongjoong's misery and emotional turmoil in the last few months. Wooyoung was clad in black leather pants that clung to his thick thighs, accentuating their shape with a loose white cotton shirt with frilly sleeves, revealing his collarbones, and a small scarf wrapped around his neck.
Hongjoong gulps, averting his gaze swiftly as Wooyoung approaches, his lithe frame gliding towards him. He extends a stack of papers towards the man.
"I’m not done with these but I'm sure you'll love them." Wooyoung giggles, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Hongjoong arches an eyebrow, then examines the designs. And wow...These are truly incredible! Too good, exactly what Hongjoong needs. A touch of magic to elevate the designs. He looks up to meet Wooyoung's gaze and the other offers a slight smile, his hand lightly brushing against Hongjoong's hair, adjusting it.
Hongjoong feels a jolt, an inexplicable sensation coursing through him as Wooyoung's fingers touch his hair, then a giggle escapes Wooyoung's lips at Hongjoong's expression. He feels like a fish that got caught out of water, utterly discombobulated.
"Your hair was a bit disheveled, so I fixed it for you."
Hongjoong clears his throat, gathering the papers in his hands before nodding to the younger man standing in front of him.
Wooyoung's presence permeates the room, a heady aroma of blooming flowers and warm vanilla assaulting Hongjoong's senses, leaving him momentarily disoriented. Wooyoung leans against the desk, his weight casually distributed, while Hongjoong observes him with an intensity that sends a surge of heat across the younger's body. His gaze, a laser beam that seems to scan every inch of Wooyoung's skin, leaving a trail of invisible fire in its wake. Wooyoung finds himself inexplicably drawn to the intensity, a dangerous allure that threatens to consume him. Hongjoong breaks eye contact while trying to keep himself busy with anything. Despite his mastery of emotional detachment, he feels utterly transparent to Wooyoung, It's as if the younger man possesses some uncanny sixth sense, effortlessly deciphering the intricate labyrinth of his thoughts and emotions.
Hongjoong's attention then drifts towards Wooyoung's hands, the nails elegantly adorned with a striking black lacquer accented by crimson embellishments.
"I like your nail work," he remarks, the words escaping his lips before he can fully consider the implications. Wooyoung raises his hand, a playful smile gracing his lips as he examines his handiwork.
"Thanks, got them done a couple of days ago," he replies, his gaze briefly meeting Hongjoong's.
“Yeah, noticed." Hongjoong acknowledges, his voice a low murmur.
Wooyoung smirks, moving to stand beside Hongjoong's chair and leaning against the desk, his proximity a palpable shift in the atmosphere. "And you decide to comment on them just now?" he inquires, a playful lilt in his voice as a comfortable silence settles between them.
"Mr. Kim, I know what you're thinking of," Wooyoung whispers while biting his lip, voice mix of a low and needy caress that ignites a fire between Hongjoong's legs, a telltale bulge betraying his arousal. Their close proximity, the intoxicating scent of vanilla and something faintly musky that clings to Wooyoung's skin, the radiating warmth of his body – it all made Hongjoong breathless.
"What are you talking about?" Hongjoong demands feigning obliviousness, his voice sharp, an attempt to mask the turmoil within. He adopts an air of detached indifference, but the effort feels futile. Wooyoung, however, seems unfazed, his finger tracing lazy circles on Hongjoong's chest.
"I see the way you look at me, I know you want to fuck me," he whispers, the words hanging heavy in the air. Time seems to freeze, the only sound is a deafening roar in Hongjoong's ears. A wave of intense emotions – anger, arousal, a primal lust that ignites within him – threatens to consume him. He grabs Wooyoung's wrist, his grip firm and forceful, pulling his hand away.
"You're so full of ego, you actually think I'd want to hook up with someone like you?" Hongjoong's icy voice reverberates.
Wooyoung remains unperturbed, a slow smile playing on his lips. "I wonder how long you can keep playing this hard to get, Hongjoong. This will only make me want you more." His voice is a low, seductive drawl, a challenge hanging in the air.
Hongjoong scoffs, "I don't sleep with people from work."
"Hmm, we'll see about that," Wooyoung winks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He turns and strides towards the door, his perfectly sculpted butt swaying with each step. Hongjoong's eyes involuntarily follow him, lingering on the way his tailored pants cling to his curves. He slams his fist on the desk, the sound echoing in the office as the door closes behind Wooyoung.
Hongjoong runs a hand through his already disheveled hair, frustration bubbling within him. He knows he shouldn't have let Wooyoung get under his skin, but the younger man possesses an undeniable charm that seems to effortlessly disarm him. Wooyoung is a captivating force that pulls him in and no matter how hard he tries to deny the attraction, he just can't, and it frustrates him. He remembers Wooyoung's previous multiple attempts at subtle flirting, like dropping things on purpose just to bend over and give him a glimpse of his backside, and Hongjoong, though outwardly unfazed, was dying inside.
Wooyoung wasn't good for his mental health, yet he finds himself inexplicably drawn to the younger man's confidence and wittiness. The fleeting memory of Wooyoung's recent touch is still vivid. He was so close to pushing Wooyoung away, to asserting his authority and reminding him of their professional boundaries. But the look in Wooyoung's eyes, a mixture of need and genuine desire, threw him off course.
Hongjoong groans, burying his face in his hands. He needs to focus on work, on anything but the intoxicating image of Wooyoung. But the thought of Wooyoung's pretty smile, his teasing words, and the way his eyes hold a promise of forbidden pleasure continues to haunt him and eat out what's left of his self restraint.
The studio hums with a low, melodic tune, the rays of sun filtering through the large windows, casting long dancing shadows across the pristine white floor. Wooyoung, being the whirlwind of creative energy, pins the final fabric swatches to the mannequin, his brow furrowed in concentration. Three months of relentless sketching, of late nights fueled by caffeine and inspiration, have finally culminated in this moment. He steps back, admiring his work, a mischievous glint in his eye.
A deep voice breaks the quiet, “Well, well, if it isn't the studio's resident fashion icon.” It's Song Mingi, the head design manager and Wooyoung's best friend. Tall and imposing with eyes that hold a mischievous spark, he strides in, his presence filling the room.
Wooyoung beams, "Mingi! You're here! Almost done with this masterpiece. Need your expert opinion." He pulls Mingi closer, their arms brushing, "See? What do you think?"
Mingi leans in, his gaze sweeping over the fabric, "Magnificent, as always. You have a knack for this, Wooyoung." He pauses, his nostrils flaring, "New perfume? You smell divine."
Wooyoung smirks, "Oh, you noticed."
Mingi chuckles, "I always notice." He leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Still trying to seduce Mr. Kim? I'm available, you know."
Wooyoung throws his head back and laughs, "You wish, Mingi. You're not my type."
Mingi feigns hurt, "Ouch, the ego. And you're certainly not mine."
Wooyoung's laughter rings out, "Oh, come on, Mingi. We both know I'm everyone's type."
Mingi smiles, a genuine affection warming his eyes. He may, or may not, have harbored a fleeting crush on Wooyoung in the past. But they'd discussed it, sorted through their feelings, and emerged stronger, their friendship forged in honesty and a shared appreciation for each other's wit. Now, they were more than just friends; they were confidantes, collaborators, and partners in crime.
Mingi reaches out, gently removing the pencil tucked behind Wooyoung's ear. "Here, let me show you how to finish this." He begins sketching on a nearby notepad, his hand moving with effortless grace. Wooyoung watches intently, his mind absorbing Mingi's every move, their playful banter continuing unabated. Lost in their creative flow, they fail to notice the figure standing silently by the door. Hongjoong, his jaw clenched, watches the scene unfold, a wave of jealousy washing over him. He watches the way Wooyoung laughs, the way Mingi smiles back, their easy camaraderie a stark contrast to the icy distance between him and Wooyoung.
He feels a pang of something akin to despair.
A soft voice breaks his raging thoughts, "Mr. Kim, you're on time! Mr. Song is here." A young female employee speaks as she guides him inside.
Mingi and Wooyoung both turn, their playful banter abruptly halted. Wooyoung meets Hongjoong's gaze, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them before he quickly moves his attention to the designs. Mingi, ever perceptive, exchanges a knowing glance with Wooyoung before turning to greet Hongjoong, who nodded in affirmation and walked through the room. The air crackles with a tension Wooyoung can't quite place.
"Can't believe you're into this guy, he's a dick," Mingi whispers, his voice low and conspiratorial. Wooyoung jabs him sharply in the ribs, eliciting a pained groan.
Hongjoong marched through the studio, meticulously scrutinizing each piece of clothing and critiquing the stylists' choices with a discerning eye. Then, it's Wooyoung's turn, the older man gives him a pointed look, his gaze lingering on Wooyoung's confident posture. He glances at the towering figure of Mingi standing beside him, then shifts his attention to the sketches scattered across the desk, the ones Mingi had drawn earlier.
His gaze falls on the piece of fabric, strategically placed by Mingi to discreetly cover the mannequin's midriff. With a deliberate movement, Hongjoong removes the pin, the fabric falling away to reveal the sliver of skin of the figure.
"This looks better now," he comments, his voice cool, a hint of a challenge in his tone. "A touch of bravery would make the design truly extraordinary."
He turns away, leaving Wooyoung and Mingi staring at him, the air thick with unspoken tension. The subtle shift in the design, the deliberate exposure of skin, felt like a power play, a silent declaration of his authority.
Wooyoung has been working on fixing the flaws for two agonizing hours; his masterpiece is complete. The fabric, now a vibrant, fluid expression of his vision, drapes elegantly over the mannequin. A surge of pride washes over him. His first thought? Hongjoong. He needs to see this. Gathering his belongings, Wooyoung exits the studio, the space eerily quiet in his absence. As he approaches the elevator, the doors slide open, revealing Hongjoong standing in full glory, imposing in his impeccably tailored black suit.
A smile lights up Wooyoung's face. "I was just about to look for you! I finished my dress, and I need your opinion."
Hongjoong's response is chilling. "I thought you already got Mingi's opinion."
Wooyoung's smile falters. "Well, yes, but your opinion matters most to me."
Hongjoong doesn't remark, The silence stretches, a heavy weight in the air. "What's wrong with you?" Wooyoung finally snaps, his patience wearing thin. "You've been avoiding me all day. Did I do something wrong?"
Hongjoong remains stubbornly silent, his gaze fixed on the elevator floor. The doors chime, announcing their arrival. Wooyoung, desperate for answers, steps in front of Hongjoong, blocking his exit.
"Are you… jealous?" he asks tentatively.
Hongjoong visibly flinches, his jaw tightening.
"Oh my god, so you are jealous! For fuck's sake, Hongjoong, you need to be more direct." Wooyoung runs a hand through his long silky hair, frustration simmering beneath the surface.
“I'm tired of seeing you surrounded by men. All that flirting… It drives me mad."
Hongjoong's eyes, dark and intense, meet his.
"I may flirt, but that doesn't mean I have feelings for them or want to sleep with them." Wooyoung says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, making the air between them thicken. Hongjoong's face is a mask of conflicting emotions.
Suddenly, he grabs Wooyoung's wrist, pulling him close with a force that takes Wooyoung by surprise. Before he can even register what's happening, Hongjoong's lips slams against his with a fierce and demanding kiss. Wooyoung’s eyelids flutter before he closes his eyes, the world fading away as he instinctively responds to the kiss. He wraps his arms around Hongjoong's neck, his fingers tangling in the dark hair at his nape. Hongjoong pins him against the cold metal wall as he explores every part of the younger’s mouth.
Wooyoung tilts his head to the side, surrendering to the intensity of the moment, his body trembling with a mixture of shock and a burgeoning desire as he felt his knees buckling slightly. Hongjoong tastes like expensive whiskey and hot desire, and Wooyoung finds himself drowning in the sensation. He runs his hands through Hongjoong's hair, a whiny moan escaping his lips as he grips tighter. This isn't just a kiss; it's a declaration, a desperate need, a hunger that has been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.
Hongjoong kisses him like a starved man, a low deep groan rumbles in his chest as his hand tightening around Wooyoung's neck while traces his body with his other hand. He finally breaks away, and burries his head into Wooyoung's neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin. He trails kisses across the younger's jawline reaching down his throat, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His hand, bold and possessive, slips beneath Wooyoung's pants, as he rubs his palm against his clothed cunt.
"Please..." Wooyoung whimpered, the bravado that had been his shield shattering like brittle glass. Hongjoong's aura, a tempest of desire, threatened to drown him, and his voice, a mere whisper now, was laced with a need that bordered on desperation.
Suddenly the elevator doors slide open, jolting them apart. They both jump, their faces flushed, their breaths ragged. An employee, a young woman with wide eyes, steps into the elevator, oblivious to the maelstrom that has just erupted within its confines.
Before the door closes again, Hongjoong bursts out of the elevator and scrambles towards the nearest bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He turns on the icy tap water, splashing it onto his face in an attempt to cool the burning sensation creeping up his neck. His reflection in the mirror is a mess – his face flushed from the raging lust that lingered from his shared kiss with Wooyoung.
He traces the ghost of Wooyoung's lips on his own, the memory of their softness still vivid. A familiar ache blooming low in his abdomen. He curses under his breath, ducking into a stall and fumbling with his zipper. He grips his cock, the rough fabric of his pants a poor substitute for the slick warmth he craves. He closes his eyes, picturing Wooyoung – his lips, parted and inviting, his body slick with sweat, the scent of his floral perfume still clinging to Hongjoong's senses. He pumps his member faster, the motion rough and desperate, his teeth sinking into his lip. Wooyoung's soft moans echo in his mind, a low, throaty sound that drives him wild.
A sharp pain ignites in his wrist, but Hongjoong ignores it, the image of Wooyoung burning into his mind. He's close now, a dizzying edge to the world, Wooyoung's name a desperate mantra on his lips. He lets out a guttural growl, his body slamming against the stall wall as he finally releases, the tension draining from him in a wave of shuddering relief. He leans against the cool porcelain, breathing heavily. He moves lazily to wash his hands, then glances at his reflection, adjusting his collar and hair. He lets out a sigh before he opens the bathroom door and is startled to find Wooyoung standing right there.
Their eyes meet briefly, and before Hongjoong can even register anything, Wooyoung leans in and captures his lips in a fierce kiss, the bathroom door swinging shut behind them with a loud thud. Hongjoong quickly takes control as he pushes Wooyoung back against the cool tiles, his hand instinctively finding its way to the younger's nape. Wooyoung stumbles, gasping slightly as Hongjoong's tongue invades his mouth, a demanding, explorative dance that leaves Wooyoung breathless.
Hongjoong grips the younger's waist, pulling him closer, his other hand sliding down Wooyoung's side, tracing the curve of his ass as he squeezes the flesh, eliciting a low moan that vibrates through Wooyoung's core. He nips at Wooyoung's lower lip, tasting blood, a surge of power coursing through him. He dominates the kiss, his hands moving with a practiced ease, exploring every inch of Wooyoung's body, from the delicate curve of his jaw to the taut muscles of his abdomen.
Wooyoung whimpers, lost in the intensity of Hongjoong's touch, his hands instinctively gripping the older man's shoulders, trying to anchor himself to the ground. Hongjoong smiles against Wooyoung's lips, a predatory glint in his eyes. He knows he has complete control, and he revels in it, the power intoxicating him. He takes the lead, guiding Wooyoung towards the ceramic sink and lifting him onto it. The cool, hard surface is a stark contrast to the heat building between them. He continues kissing Wooyoung, a desperate hunger in his eyes, his hands fumbling with the younger man's zipper. Soon, Wooyoung's pants and underwear lie discarded on the floor, revealing the smooth, pale skin of his thighs.
Wooyoung breaks the kiss, gasping at the sudden chill that hits the exposed area between his legs. Hongjoong gives him a predatory look, his eyes gleaming with lust, sending shivers down Wooyoung's spine. He slowly leans down, his head hovering inches above Wooyoung's waiting entrance while maintaining that intense eye contact. Wooyoung bites his lip, a moan escaping him as he feels Hongjoong's hot breath fanning over his clitoris. The older licks a wide, wet path across his labia, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate arc. Wooyoung gasps, his legs instinctively closing around Hongjoong's head as he places his hand above his head, ruffling the perfectly styled hair. Hongjoong groans, his grip tightening on Wooyoung's thighs. He eats him out deliberately slow, starting with gentle, teasing licks, then prodding his clit with the tip of his tongue, his eyes never breaking from Wooyoung's. The younger man's face contorts with pleasure, his back arching against the cool ceramic, his hips thrusting involuntarily against the older's wet hot mouth. Hongjoong devours him, sucking every inch of his slick, making Wooyoung's head spin as he loses himself completely to the man. Hongjoong swirls his tongue between his vaginal lips, switching from licking to sucking, his hands gripping Wooyoung's thighs firmly, leaving imprints on the soft flesh as he spreads his legs wide.
"Oh fuck, I'm coming!" Wooyoung shrieks, his voice raw with pleasure. Hongjoong looks up at him, his eyes dark and intense. He increases the speed of the wet muscle, thrusting his tongue in and out, his thumb circling the younger's clit with a maddening rhythm. Wooyoung lets out a loud, involuntary cry as he orgasms, his body arching violently, his muscles clenching as he gushes into the older man's mouth.
Hongjoong continues to suckle, his tongue lapping up the sweet nectar that floods his mouth. He finally pulls away, his face covered in Wooyoung's juices, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He looks up at Wooyoung, his eyes filled with a possessive hunger. "That was so fucking hot," he whispers, his voice husky before he slowly leans in and presses a kiss against the younger man's lips, as Wooyoung tastes himself on the man's tongue.
“Fuck yeah,” Wooyoung whispers against the man's lips
The incident in the bathroom loomed over Hongjoong like a storm cloud, the memory of Wooyoung's soft milky skin, the way he'd whimpered under his touch, the raw, primal hunger that had consumed him… it all threatened to shatter the carefully constructed ice wall he'd built around himself. He found himself constantly glancing at Wooyoung, his eyes drawn to the way the younger man moved, the graceful curve of his hips, the playful glint in his eyes. He knew he couldn't afford to lose control again. Not in the office. Not where his reputation, his carefully cultivated image of callosity and calculating professionalism, hung in the balance. So he avoided Wooyoung, keeping their interactions strictly professional, a polite nod here, a curt inquiry there. But the distance only fueled the fire, the longing simmering beneath the surface, threatening to erupt.
One morning, as Hongjoong prepared for an urgent meeting, He grabbed his phone, his fingers slightly pressing the digits as he dialed his secretary. "Schedule a meeting in the conference room, now,” He needed to get out of his office, away from the intoxicating scent of Wooyoung's perfume that seemed to cling to every corner.
Wooyoung who was next to his desk, oblivious to Mingi's presence, was hunched over the printer, his brow furrowed in concentration as he waited for the machine to do its job. Suddenly, a sharp slap on his butt made him yelp, his heart leaping into his throat. He whirled around, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, to find Mingi standing behind him, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Are you crazy?" Wooyoung hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. "We're at work!"
Mingi shrugged, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "It's not like you care, anyway. Are you attending the meeting or not?" He gestured towards the conference room at the end of the hall.
Wooyoung sputtered, "Yeah, sure. I'll be there in a minute, you go ahead."
Hongjoong, impeccably dressed in a deep gray suit, stood at the front, his hair slicked back, projecting an image of calm authority. He pointed to the screen, where a series of designs were displayed. "The overall concept is strong," he began, his voice measured, "but I feel the color palette could be bolder, more… vibrant."
Wooyoung, seated at the end of the table, found it impossible to concentrate on Hongjoong's critique. His mind was still buzzing with the unexpected contact, the way Hongjoong's touch had sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through him. He tried to focus, to engage in the discussion, but the image of their little escapade haunted him. He knew he couldn't let this continue. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted, to be consumed by this forbidden desire.
The conference room hums, a tangible buzz of anticipation. Hongjoong, ever the picture of composed authority, declares the news. "I've sent your designs to a dear friend in France. He's absolutely captivated, and he's choosing the perfect piece for the upcoming Paris show," he announces, his voice a low, resonant rumble that holds the room captive.
"He wants our creations showcased on that runway."
A wave of excited whispers ripples through the air. Mingi, eyes sparkling with amusement, shares a knowing grin with Wooyoung. Hongjoong's gaze sweeps across the room, finally settling on Wooyoung, a flicker of something intense flashing between them.
"And," Hongjoong continues, his voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper, "he's requested the designer responsible for these masterpieces accompany me."
A young woman, her eyes wide with eager anticipation, blurts out, "Mr. Kim, who has the honor of joining you in Paris?"
Hongjoong's lips curve into a slow, enigmatic smile as he locks eyes with Wooyoung. Their gazes intertwine, a silent dialogue unfolding, thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions. "I'll announce that in another meeting. For now, I want to express my deepest gratitude for your exceptional work." His voice, unusually warm and light, fills the room.
With a final nod, he ends the meeting, the air crackling with speculation. As the employees stream out, Hongjoong intercepts Wooyoung at the door. "Mr. Jung," he murmurs, his voice low and urgent, "I need you in my office, now."
Mingi, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips, winks at Wooyoung. Wooyoung feels a nervous flutter in his stomach, his heart hammering against his ribs, yet a small chuckle escapes him. He follows Hongjoong into the sleek, modern office, anticipation building with every step.
"You're attending the Paris Fashion Show next week with me. Monsieur selects your designs, insisting on a personal meeting," Hongjoong states, his gaze fixed on the scattered papers before him, the air around him thick with unspoken intensity.
"Wait, seriously?" Wooyoung's jaw drops, his eyes widening in a mixture of surprise and pure, unadulterated joy. His dream, the runway he's only imagined, is suddenly within reach.
"Yes, I'm serious, Wooyoung. Monsieur and I studied fashion together, sharing a certain… exquisite taste. I know he recognizes the brilliance in your designs," Hongjoong replies, his eyes finally meeting Wooyoung's, the intensity in his gaze palpable.
A radiant smile spreads across Wooyoung's face, and he surges forward, throwing himself into Hongjoong's arms, burying his face in the older man's chest. Hongjoong, momentarily taken aback, instinctively wraps his arms around Wooyoung's waist, holding him close.
"You smell really nice," Hongjoong murmurs, the scent of Wooyoung's perfume filling his senses. The younger looks up, his smile widening.
"Mingi says the same thing," Wooyoung giggles, a playful glint in his eyes, causing Hongjoong's brow to furrow slightly.
"What's happening between you two?" Hongjoong asks, a flicker of something akin to jealousy flashing in his eyes, a possessive edge to his voice.
"He used to have a crush on me, but we're just friends now," Wooyoung smirks, enjoying the subtle shift in Hongjoong's demeanor, the hint of possessiveness that colors his expression.
"I don't like you being close to him. Stay away," Hongjoong demands, his voice dropping to a low, commanding register.
"Oh? Is that an order?" Wooyoung raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his eyes, settling on the edge of Hongjoong's desk, facing him.
"Yes, an order," Hongjoong confirms, his eyes locking with Wooyoung's, a silent battle of wills unfolding between them.
"Why?" Wooyoung teases, his lips curving into a knowing smile. Hongjoong scoffs, a mixture of exasperation and desire in his eyes.
"You know why," Hongjoong replies, his voice husky, the unspoken tension between them growing thicker.
"I know, but I want to hear you say it," Wooyoung whispers while sitting on the desk in front of the man, his legs parting slightly, a deliberate provocation, his eyes watching as The CEO’s gaze follows the movement.
Hongjoong's restraint snaps. He possesively grips Wooyoung's thighs, his fingers digging slightly into the soft flesh, eliciting a soft moan from the younger man. "Because you're mine. No one else touches you."
"Fuck, that's hot," Wooyoung breathes, his eyes darkening with desire, "Please… touch me more…"
Hongjoong hesitates, his eyes flickering towards the office door, then back to Wooyoung. He reaches for the phone, dialing his secretary immediately. "I'll be busy. I don't want any interruptions," he commands, his eyes never leaving Wooyoung's.
"What am I going to do with you now?" Hongjoong asks, his voice laced with playful menace, raising an eyebrow.
"Do whatever you want. I'm yours, Mr. Kim," Wooyoung whispers seductively, his fingers working on the buttons of his own shirt, slowly revealing the smooth skin beneath.
"You'll be the death of me," Hongjoong says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, as he moves to stand between Wooyoung's parted legs. He pulls Wooyoung closer, the younger man gasping softly. Wooyoung's hands move to Hongjoong's shirt, unbuttoning it with eager fingers, discarding his jacket carelessly across the floor. He runs his hands over Hongjoong's chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his fingertips.
"Fuck, you're so hot, I want you so bad," Wooyoung whimpers, his voice thick with desire.
What's left of Hongjoong's carefully constructed restraint shatters. He rips open Wooyoung's shirt, the buttons flying across the room, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. Wooyoung gasps, a wave of arousal surging through his entire body as he feels himself getting wet. Hongjoong buries his head in Wooyoung's neck, kissing the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Wooyoung moans, pulling Hongjoong closer, his fingers digging into his back.
"Fuck, you taste so good," Hongjoong rasps, leaving a dark mark on his jawline.
"Please, I want you," Wooyoung gasps, his hands reaching for Hongjoong's belt, his fingers fumbling with the buckle. Hongjoong's hand moves to Wooyoung's pants, sliding them down his legs, revealing his naked form.
"No underwear? What a slut," Hongjoong whispers, his voice husky, nipping at Wooyoung's earlobe, "Easier access." He whispers filthily into his ear making the younger shudder at the degrading name. He moves his fingers between Wooyoung's wet pussy lips, stroking him with a practiced touch up and down. The younger grips Hongjoong's shoulders, his body trembling with anticipation.
"Mr. Kim… Ah!" Wooyoung moans, his legs spreading wider, offering himself to Hongjoong.
"You like that, little slut?" Hongjoong asks, his eyes watching Wooyoung's fucked out face, his expression a mixture of desire and submission. He pushes two fingers inside Wooyoung, moving them faster and deeper into his heat. Wooyoung gasps, his eyes locking with Hongjoong's, his mouth falls open in a silent moan, his eyebrows furrowed as he falls under the older man’s control. He slowly reaches for Hongjoong's pants, pulling them down, freeing his hard, thick length. He strokes him, matching Hongjoong's rhythm, the friction building the tension between them. Hongjoong kisses him roughly, his tongue tangling with Wooyoung's. His hand moves frantically, the sounds of the wet squelching noises filling the office, driving Wooyoung wild.
Wooyoung gasps, his body shaking with the force of his impending release as he gushes over the older man's thick fingers. Hongjoong slowly pulls his fingers as he moves his hand up towards his mouth and licks his fingers, then kisses Wooyoung again, the taste of him lingering on his lips.
"Put it inside," Wooyoung pants, his hands grabbing Hongjoong's length once again, guiding him towards his entrance.
Hongjoong completely removes his pants while pushing Wooyoung back against the desk, the cool surface pressing against his skin. Wooyoung wraps his legs around Hongjoong's waist, pulling him closer.
"Fuck me so hard, let everyone know I'm yours," Wooyoung dares, his voice a husky whisper.
With a sharp inhale, Hongjoong forcefully thrust forward, their bodies meeting in a collision that sent a tremor through their bodies. Wooyoung gasps, his back arching against the hard surface of the desk, the aged wood groaning a low, resonant protest beneath their combined weight.
Hongjoong’s lips found Wooyoung’s, a slow, deliberate exploration that belied the raw intensity of their joining. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken desires, of a connection forged in the fires of shared passion. He savored the taste of Wooyoung, a heady mix of sweetness and something uniquely his, a flavor that ignited a fire within him. The kiss deepened, becoming a silent conversation, a language spoken only by their entwined bodies and the soft sounds of their mingled breaths. The desk, an unwitting witness to their intimacy, creaked again, a subtle reminder of the force that bound them together.
Hongjoong remains inside Wooyoung without moving, his hands tracing the delicate curves of his body, mapping the landscape of his skin. Wooyoung moans softly, a sound that vibrates through the room, his body arching instinctively, seeking friction. Hongjoong's lips brush against the sensitive skin of Wooyoung's neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Then, he begins to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that builds with each passing moment, each subtle shift. Wooyoung gasps, his fingers digging into the fabric of Hongjoong's shirt, his knuckles turning white as the intensity escalates. He clings to Hongjoong, his body trembling with anticipation as he feels the slow drag of the older man's thick cock deep inside his walls.
Hongjoong's hand slides down Wooyoung's side, a feather-light touch that traces the elegant curve of his hip. The contact sends shivers through Wooyoung's body, a wave of sensation that makes him arch further, his muscles contracting involuntarily. He responds to Hongjoong's every touch, his body a symphony of reactions, a testament to the deep connection that binds them. The rhythm of Hongjoong's thrusts quickens, each movement a pulse of shared energy, a dance of intimacy that draws them closer, binding them together in a moment of pure desire.
Wooyoung's moans grow louder, his cries echoing through the space, a raw and unrestrained expression of the pleasure radiating through him. Hongjoong watches, utterly captivated by the sight of Wooyoung's uninhibited pleasure. The intensity of Wooyoung's response fuels his own desire, as he continues to thrust in and out of Wooyoung’s wet cunt.
"Uh-uh, fuck, right there, harder," Wooyoung gasps, his hips bucking instinctively against Hongjoong's body desperate for release. His words, a raw plea, hang in the charged air, a testament to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.
"Fuck, you're so tight, so wet," Hongjoong groans, his voice thick with desire. He increases the tempo, his hips moving faster, harder, driven by the raw passion that surges between them. He watches their joined bodies, the visual confirmation of their intimacy, his gaze fixed on the way his angry thick length breaching the walls of Wooyoung's sore pink pussy. He groans deeply, the air vibrates with the sounds of their mingled breaths and the hard, rhythmic sounds of their bodies slapping against each other. Each thrust delivered is a pulse of shared energy, a wave of sensation that washes over them both, drawing them closer to the precipice of release.
"Hongjoong-ah, I'm coming…" Wooyoung lets out a loud shriek, his body tensing, a wave of anticipation crashing over him. Hongjoong responds, his thrusts deepening, his hand move between their sticky bodies as his thumb starts rubbing Wooyoung's clit in fast circular motion, sending the younger spiraling into a vortex of pure release. Wooyoung cries out, his body convulsing around Hongjoong's cock as he gushes like waterfalls, Hongjoong's thrust becomes erratic, with three final, powerful thrusts, he follows as he delivers his own powerful release, filling Wooyoung with his warmth to the brim.
"That was…" Wooyoung whispers, his voice still breathy, his body trembling with the lingering aftershocks of their passion.
"Incredible," Hongjoong agrees, his lips brushing against Wooyoung's hair, pulling him close, their bodies still intimately joined. They lie entwined, the air around them thick with the lingering heat of their shared experience.
"Do you think they heard us?" Wooyoung asks, a playful glint in his eyes.
"Definitely. You were rather… vocal," Hongjoong snorts, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice.
"Your dick was too good, I couldn't help it." Wooyoung retorts, his eyes watching Hongjoong with amusement as he cleans them both with tissues.
"Now everyone knows you're mine," Hongjoong murmurs, his eyes filled with a possessiveness that is both tender and fierce.
"That's precisely the point," Wooyoung replies, his smile widening, his eyes reflecting a mixture of contentment and lingering desire. He nuzzles closer to Hongjoong, their bodies still humming with the echoes of their shared intimacy.