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Sweet Chaos

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His name rolls off your tongue like it were made of poison. Acrid. Gut wrenching. It’s nauseating to say the least. Even the cigarette in your hand couldn’t make the sour taste in your mouth go away.

Forgetting him would be impossible, not with his name everywhere: on television, in newspapers and magazines. Brian Kang is the talk of the town. Asia’s top PR executive—infamous for taking in high-profiled clients with soiled reputations and turning their image sparkling clean—back in his hometown. There are already speculations as to who would be next to receive the so-called Brian’s Touch.

"Brian’s touch..." You chuckle gloomily, taking a long draft from your cigarette to let the smoke fog up your resurfacing memories.

In a short span of a month, you've found yourself attending the same party as him for a third time. How is it that every event you’re going to these days also has him in invitation? Meeting like this can't be a regular affair. Maybe it’s time you start turning down appearances at these charity events, perhaps take a well-deserved break, now that he’s back in the local scene. 

He should have never returned.

You exhale a shaky breath, smoke dispersing into the cold night. The dose of nicotine you've been counting on to get rid of the nerves wasn't working like it used to, but at least out here in the balcony you had all the space you needed to breathe. At least out here there was no Brian in sight.

Back at the party, the air crackled with tension. How could you forget the look on his face? Tension emanating from where he was sitting while you were giving your speech. The way his eyes travelled from your head, down to your toes, and back up again. Your heart raced like mad, cheeks flushing red, throat going dry. It was clearly more than just anger pervading in the room. The moment your eyes met, you knew he was the same person who could make you come undone. 

You take another puff of smoke, laughing nervously, hastily wiping a tear off your cheek. 

It’s true. You are afraid—afraid of the attraction that’s still there after all these years. 

"So you picked up the habit, huh, princess?" 

Your breath catches at the sound of a deep voice, too absorbed in your own dilemma that you had missed the footfalls. You turn around and there he was—Brian Kang—larger than life. A hand in his pocket, an unlit cigarette in the other. His face was inscrutable, silhouetted by the bright light from inside.

"What is it to you?” Your hand falls to your side. 

It was only a matter of time.

He picks up your wrist and raises your cigarette to his lips, using it to light his own.

You stay rooted in your spot, watching him take a long drag before exhaling in the distance, stuck between wanting to listen to what he has to say for himself and running away. 

You should have run away.

“So your parents succeeded with you, didn’t they?” Brian finally speaks, letting go of your hand.

“What?” you reply in a murmur, the first prickle of annoyance creeping in your skin.

“I mean, look at you!” He makes a sweeping gesture. “A philanthropist just like your mother. And I’m sure you’re still actively campaigning for your father, after all he needs that extra boost in his ratings after that whole fiasco with his secretary.”

Your annoyance burned into anger. It’s been years! Ten full years, not a single one he’d spent with you, and yet he’s confidently making conclusions about your life—that you’re still nothing but a puppet. As if he hadn't known of your struggles. How difficult it had been living in your parents’ shadows. How difficult it was living like a shadow. Has he forgotten everything?

“Tell me, princess, have you been having fun with your latest charity case? Your parents must finally be so proud of you."

His words rang in your ears. You stub your cigarette and balled your fists, hand itching to slap that smirk off his face to make him feel even a fraction of the pain you’d felt—of the pain he, himself, had caused.

You take in a deep breath, holding back from launching into a diatribe, realizing that it wouldn’t do you any good. You didn’t want to open old wounds, refused to relive a nightmare of memories. Even worse, suffer through another mental ordeal.

"I better go," you say instead, defeated but knowing it’s the right thing to do.

You take a sidestep towards the door, but he’s quick to grab your wrist.

"I see you're still that spoiled rich girl who only does what she pleases."

You gasp, inexplicably offended by his remark. Of all people who's ever dared to judge you, why did his words have to hurt the most?

Tears begin to well in your eyes, unable to contain your emotions any longer. "Do you have any idea what I had to go through this last decade to become the person I am today?" you muster with as much composure as you can. "No. You don’t! I'm not the same Y/N you used to know. I’m not that princess anymore!”

You pull your hand from his grasp, wincing from his strong grip. Taking long strides, you walk into the hotel towards the elevator, having had enough of tonight's affair, intending to go to your room to calm yourself down, but before the door closes a hand appears, stopping it.

Brian enters the lift, his figure looming over you. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

"What do you want with me?! Isn't it enough that you've ruined my life before?!"

"Your life?!” He breaks out in a disbelieving laugh. “It was mine, Y/N! It was my life you and your parents played with!"

"No Brian! My intentions were pure, but you were too busy nursing your own pride to know that it was only your best interest I had in mind!" 

"You're a manipulative bitch—"

You slap him across the face, not waiting for him to insult you any further. "And you! You're a heartless monster! You killed my baby!" 

The both of you fall silent, a look of shock on your faces, heaving breaths filling the silence of the elevator car. Not so much as from the slap, but because of what had slipped your tongue.

The elevator doors slide open and you quickly step out, only to realize that you were on the wrong floor. Too late, the doors had already closed and Brian had alighted as well. Still reeling from the slap, he grabs your wrist and starts dragging you to the end of the hallway.

"Let go of me! I'm not coming with you!" You try to break free, but his iron grip prevents you this time.

"We need to talk. Don't make a scene out here," he murmurs, tapping a key card on the lock of his hotel room.

He pins you against the door as soon it closes, both hands heavy on your shoulders. 

"So it's true then, you really were pregnant?" 

You shake your head fiercely.

“Don’t even think about lying to me.”

“I— I—” You shut your eyes, not wanting to recall the past. “I was, but the baby... M-My baby—" Tears streamed down your face, knees weakening, relying on Brian's strength to stay on your feet.

"What are you crying for?!" He forces your chin upwards to look him in the eyes. "It was ours! You had our baby aborted, stop acting like you're the only victim here! I never forced myself on you—"

"A-Aborted?! Brian, I would never! It was a miscarriage! That night— "

"Stop lying! You’re not going to make a fool of me again.” 

He starts to pull at the sleeve of your long sleeved gown, exposing the right side of your shoulder. He suddenly stops, and turns you about, looking behind you, as if searching for something.

“What are you doing?!” Your heart hammers in your chest, asking him a question you knew full well the answer to.

“Where is it?”

"W-What are you talking about?!" You push him away as he grabs your other sleeve, but you're no match for him. He effortlessly pulls it off, your backless gown offering barely any resistance, falling off your shoulders and revealing your naked breasts.


“It’s gone...”

“I'm going to sue you for harassment!” You struggle to put your dress back on, desperate for some semblance of dignity, but he grabs your arms, gripping you firmly.

“What have you done?! Answer me! Where’s your tattoo?!”

The tattoo.

It was a memento from a long time ago. A pact you made with Brian, sealed with a promise so sweet. It was a piece of you he knew he would always have; something the both of you would always share. It was beautiful and intricate, one you considered to be a symbol of your emancipation. But then, that fateful day happened and gradually it turned into a stigma. A constant reminder of a horrible nightmare, of sleepless days and nights that nearly drove you over the edge. 

You only did what you had to do.

“Don’t play with me, Y/N!” He shoves you against the door, proving his point. 

You bite your lips and shake your head, refusing to talk, not wanting the wall that took years to build to come crumbling down in an instant.

Determined for some kind of explanation, Brian grabs your dress and tugs it down, the sheer dress slipping down your body and onto the marble tiles, leaving you stark naked save your black underwear.

“Please, I don’t know what it is you want from me!”

“You still have this!” he says in an accusing tone, pressing on a butterfly tattoo on your hip. The heat and pressure of his hand, causing heat to pool in your abdomen, making you hot all over, goosebumps now visible on your skin. But still you refused to give him any answers.

“God damn you, Y/N! I’m going to make you talk if I have to.”

He swoops down on your lips for a hungry kiss, bringing your naked body closer to his. You wince as his grip on you tightens, a silent cry escaping your lips. Sensing the opportunity, he plunges his tongue into your mouth. All over again, you feel the explosion of some primal kind of hunger coming to life; that lip-burning, knee-weakening, stormy passion that only Brian could ignite. It was a kiss that ended all kisses. His lips were warm, full and intoxicating. His tongue in the crevices of your mouth, feeling so achingly intimate. His scent was all around you, creating a heady feeling that catapulted you into the past, of long-ago days when you thought he was the world and you were nothing but madly in love. 

But the pain and the hurt followed soon enough, the intensity of it all bringing you back to the present. You return to pushing him away, mumbling for him to stop, but it only fuels him on. He pulls on your hair, exposing your neck, leaving searing hot kisses on your throat, biting your neck on purpose, making you whimper.

“Despite your scheming ways, you’re still as delicate. I want to see if you’re just as sweet and addicting as you once were,” he murmurs.

“N-No. Brian, please, stop...”

“What’s the matter, princess? There’s no point in denying it now. I can feel your body humming for me. Don’t resist it.”

You struggle valiantly, putting up a fight against his advances, but it’s a losing battle. It's all flooding back, the close proximity feeling so familiar even after all this time. Your body remembers him, remembers the intimacy you once shared. You were reattuning to him, and there’s nothing you could do to prevent it.

With one last attempt, you use all the strength left in you to push him away.

"Please..." you plead, with tears in your eyes. “Please, don’t let me go through this again!” You slide down to the floor, hugging yourself, the dam of emotions broken, tears streaming unchecked. 

Feeling your growing anguish, Brian crouches down in front of you, observing you intently. You look up at him, into the eyes of the man you once loved. You’re easily transported back in time, to when you were 18—naive, vulnerable, and so much in love. He must have seen something in your eyes, because with a sorrowful grunt he gathers you into his arms and hugs you tight, lifting you up and carrying you to the bed.

“I don’t know what the truth is anymore, Y/N, but I want to believe you. You need to let me understand what happened.”

“I’m not ready, Brian. Not now...”

“Wasn’t ten years enough?”

“Brian… Please…”

The look in his eyes changed. 

The way you were lying infront of him, naked on the bed. How you pleaded...

Brian crashes his lips onto yours, catching you off guard and rendering you speechless. The kiss, which started out soft and languid, soon became insistent, the urgency of his lips and tongue invading your senses. Hand on your jaws, he slowly lies down on the center of the bed, joining you. Facing each other, he deepens the kiss, his mouth open, wet and steamy; while his hand explores your body, skimming your arms, the side of your breast, down to your waist. He stops at your hip, pulling you closer to him, making you well aware of his erection straining beneath his pants. He gathers you close, his hand snaking around you, bodies pressed together. He licks your lips, his tongue sweet and warm, demanding entrance. You open your mouth, granting it. He licks his way in, tasting you, invading your mouth. At that instant, he pushes you flat on the bed, and moves on top of you, his fully clothed body covering yours. He sucks out your tongue, lapping on it as if it were a lifeline, guttural noises coming from him.

Aroused, you can’t help but become pliant, arms finding anchor on his shoulders, a hand creeping up on his nape to pull him closer. You spread your legs wide open up to accommodate him, let his bulging erection rub against your sensitive flesh—when he had taken off your underwear, you can’t even remember—incoherent noises beginning to gurgle up your throat, but then he pulls away. You whine, wanting to chase after him, already missing his touch, the heat from his body. 

He stands in front of you, his long overcoat already discarded on the floor, he grabs the hem of his turtleneck shirt next and lifts it over his head. You held your breath. The years have only sculpted his body to perfection. His abs rippled, his chest and arms have bulked up, but he was still flawlessly proportioned and beautiful. Your fingertips tingled, itching to touch him, feel his undressed muscles beneath your fingertips. Touch every single tattoo on his body—every tattoo from your memory. You clench your fists tight.

Before you know it, he’s already crawling back to you, but instead of lavishing you with kisses, he blows hot air on your navel, before licking it, his warm tongue causing you to arch and pull at his hair, your entire being beginning to pulsate. 

As he dips his tongue on your navel once more, his hands creep up to cover your breasts. You jerk at the contact, your nipples puckering into hard buds. His tongue begins the journey upwards, lapping your abdomen, higher, up to the valley between your breasts, all the while plucking your nipples. You gasp and whimper, the pleasure and pain sending you into a feverish frenzy.

“Please Brian…” you sob, emotions in turmoil, not entirely sure what it is that you’re feeling. You want him, but are scared of him. Fearful of the consequences in the coming days. But right now the need for release was too intense, the craving so strong, you know there’s no one else but him who can give it to you.

You thrash about, lusting for his touch, but he’s prolonging the agony, licking his way slowly up your neck.

“No.” You push his head back down to your breasts. He grunts, burrowing his face in the hollow of your breasts before pushing it together and sucking on both your nipples at the same time. You howl, flesh shivering and overheating. Brian continues to nuzzle both your nipples and flesh, lapping at it, then biting. You throw back your head, eyes rolling with it, abdomen coiling, the pleasurable sensations slowly building a raging orgasm within you. 

“Please Brian! Please! I— I can’t take it anymore!” you chant over and over as he refuses to stop his ministrations. You pull at his hair to get his attention and you succeed as he growls in pain and looks at you with stormy passion in his eyes. 

“Tell me princess, what is it that you desire and I will grant it to you,” he asks behind half-lidded eyes, ready to devour you. His turgid erection pressing on your already slick cunt. 

“I-I want you Bri…” There was hell to pay for your decision, but you utter each word with reckless abandon, throwing caution to the wind, because there’s a part of you that will always love him—even if he doesn’t. A part of you will always remember, always crave, always need him.

As he hears those words from you, a triumphant moan escapes his lips. He assaults your lips as he simultaneously nudges your legs apart, his large dick teasing your swollen folds.

“Open for me princess. Open up for me, like you used to and I will make you hum…” he whispers against your mouth. The sound of his voice like melody lulling you into desire—hot, white, and utterly potent—coursing through your sweaty bodies, joined from hips to breasts to mouths, slippery and wildly erotic. You moan, yearning for him, arching like a bow, and as soon as you open your mouth, Brian plunges his tongue and ever so delectably pushes his turgid dick into your very wet folds. 

"Oh baby, you're still so tight. So warm. Fuck. It’s been so long…”

You’re lost the moment he starts pushing both his tongue and dick inside of you, concentrating on the building tension in your abdomen. Fully sheathed, he moans, long and hard, and then he begins moving. He captures both of your hands in his, lacing it together and squeezing tight, as he pounds into you with so much force. You welcome him into you, hooking your legs behind his back so that every thrust of his dick hits your walls, every plunge inside of you taking you to a whole new level of ecstasy.

"Please don’t stop… Please Brian, pleaseeee..." you repeat breathlessly, eyes stinging with tears.

Brian doesn’t.

He ups the ante by pushing and pulling. Faster. Harder. Kissing and nipping your neck. Your small hands crushed beneath his huge palms.

He showed no signs of letting up, the coil in your stomach continuing to build, threatening to explode with his every movement. With one strong thrust, he hits yet again that bundle of nerves inside of you. Your legs quiver, head thrown back, mouth agape in a strangled cry.

Your vision turns black for a few seconds, panting and shaking, rocked by the incongruity of your actions. You come to with Brian kissing your forehead and pulling out of you. He lies down beside you and spoons you, gathering your hair to the side, so he can bury his face in your neck. His hands possessively snake under your breasts, as his lips travel to your ears, licking the vortex. That’s when you feel his dick coming back to life. Its rigidity and the pulsating warmth creating an instantaneous reaction to your body, the stirrings of another arousal. And even if you don’t want to, couldn’t possibly do it again, your body betrays you.

"I want you again, princess," Brian whispers in your ear. A shiver tingling in your spine as you inevitably push your ass closer to his warm and throbbing dick, gasping in anticipation.

He skims his other hand down the length of your body, stopping at your hips, squeezing.

"Do you know how exquisite you are, Y/N?" He laps at your shoulder blades.

"Nnngghhhhhh..." you moan incoherently, shaking your head.

Brian chuckles softly, caressing your ass before parting your cheeks and pushing all the way in, your still slick and sloppy pussy letting him slip in with ease. You moan as his entire length fills you up again, up to the brim, that once he buries it to the hilt, you cry out in ecstasy for the second time tonight. 

He thrusts a few times, before reaching between your legs to fondle your clit, massaging it round and round, making you moan and sob alternately from the pleasurable sensations.

You push yourself closer to give him deeper access, but he had other plans in mind.

He slowly pulls you on top of him, and from there, he thrusts into you from behind—no way but up. The act sensual and graceful at the very least. He anchors his lips onto your shoulder; one hand on your breast, while the other nestled on your clit, both of them kneading. You cried out his name like a prayer, begging, pleading, while you scrambled for anything to hold on to, reaching for the sheets, but unable to find purchase on it. You grapple onto thin air, being brought to new heights. Lying on top of him made you feel so vulnerable, but the appeal even more erotic.The act so primitive yet intoxicating, scintillating your oversensitized senses. 

You place a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle your moans and grunts, embarrassed at how wanton Brian could turn you, but he removes it.

His lips to your ear, he whispers, “Sing for me, princess. I want to hear your sounds of pure bliss and ecstasy.” 

He increases the speed at which he rams into you. Each thrust, he grunts, matching your cries, pushing your hip downwards with his free hand so you would feel the full impact of his dick against your walls.

"B-Brian, I can’t..." Your muscles begin to contract.

"You can’t what, princess?” 

“I—” You shake your head fiercely, grabbing his wrist—to stop him or urge him on, you don't know anymore.

“Don’t fight it, baby. Give in...” His fingers move with more urgency on your clit, suddenly pinching, that you cry out, involuntarily arching your back, wanting to break free from him, your body searing hot and beginning to tremble.

He doesn’t let go of you, his fingers stroking faster. Bucking his hips, he thrusts higher and higher, his dick a pulsing heat, warm and engorged, pushing into you more sporadically. Until it hits that one spot that makes you convulse, turning you into a screaming and shivering mess. 

A few more thrusts and Brian also comes, moaning, shuddering beneath you, hugging your body tight.

When the tides of orgasm have passed, he slowly lays you back down, holding you under your breasts, too tired to say anything, but making sure that every inch of your sweat soaked body was joined to his. He squeezes you ever so lightly.

"Brian..." You touched his hand intending to push him away, to get up and leave, but he unexpectedly intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing your hand to his lips.

"Bri..." A tear escapes your eye. 

It's been a long day—a very, very long day—too many scars opened, too many emotions spent, and right now you don't even know what it is that you're feeling anymore.

It could have been only from the exhaustion, but for those few minutes you allowed yourself to be held by Brian the way he was holding you.