TaeYoung didn't know how he'd gotten himself into this. On hands and knees on the uncomfortable, cheap apartment carpet, sweat of exertion on his brow and a dull throb in his legs from kneeling for so long...
“...Scrub.” Who the hell did this Ray think he was?
After a further, and more aggravated, attempt to brush the color up from the fibers, TaeYoung knelt back against his heels and hefted a disapproving sigh into the stifled air of the room.
“I can keep scrubbing for hours but it's not coming out.” He was annoyed that this had suddenly become his job, his hands and forearms sweating inside the pink rubber gloves and making it hard for him to get a proper grip on any of the supposed equipment he was using to clean up this mess. It wasn't even his.
“I said scrub.”
In a way this was almost his fault, not the bloodied carpet, of course, that had far more to do with the man now staring down at him languidly, black slim Cigaronne in hand and wafting the smell of tobacco throughout the enclosed room. But even before Ray, TaeYoung had had a bad record with whose company he kept, YeonHee somehow the least of his previous problems now.
“...Who was he?” He gestured only slightly towards the tiled kitchen where he could see the legs poking out from behind the counter, getting a deep chuckle that seemed devoid of amusement in return.
“No one important.” He didn't care to ask for an elaboration, better the faceless man than TaeYoung himself, which he had to admit, he'd been worried about since the beginning.
More or less, he'd been unlucky. No amount of extra packs a day of his staple was going to reverse his misfortune of Ray walking through his station at the port that morning.
“Where's your washing machine.”
“Through there.” He pointed the direction, gloves a murkier color than when he'd started, as the highly decorated man began to shrug the silken top that was only halfway closed down off his shoulders.
“I didn't say to stop.”
At the beginning TaeYoung had thought perhaps he could have helped him out, he had his money problems and Ray was obviously less than wanting. He was even the right type to do the talking for him, if he'd gained his favor, not that he'd been expecting having to do something like this in order to put that on the table. Glancing back to the, now drying, stain of a human being, TaeYoung sighed again, this time in frustration, and got up from his knees.
Ray's clothes hadn't caught everything, his skin spattered with drying red drops and smears, what looked like from a hand grasped around his shoulder and down his back even. It was more than TaeYoung wanted to deal with at the moment, approaching the laundry area of the room as Ray closed the lid.
“Why aren't you finishing up out there?”
“Because I need something.” Discoloration or not, the bleach was going to have to do, TaeYoung would just have to eat the cost of carpet replacement when he moved out, if he was ever so lucky. There was a pause from the other man, still yet to turn, or move his way from the cabinet so he could retrieve the bottle, a brief noise of acknowledgment coming from his throat as he finished turning the knob and the washing machine came to life with a whir.
“I know what you need...” TaeYoung strained to hear the words over the sound of water filling the barrel. Ray turning now, finally, reaching up to twist a fist in the civil servant's office shirt and pull him in swiftly to a crushing kiss.
There was more going through TaeYoung's mind than the less than conservant single shirt wash, stock still in place while Ray forced his lips against his own, tilting his head to the side and letting his slick hair fall down across his forehead, not once closing his eyes or breaking their contact with TaeYoung's, even when he moved to bite down. That was all it took for the other man to break his own cycle, thoughts falling into place firmly as his eyebrows furrowed in incredulous defeat. His first instinct wasn't to fight back, but by this point he'd learned not to be the fool once, let alone twice.
“Fuck you...!” He shoved him away as he spat the words, reaching up to gingerly check his throbbing bottom lip, Ray staring back but eyelids now lower than they had been, “You think you know what I need so well...” Though his voice was lowering it wasn't in regret, TaeYoung had had enough and they'd barely even started.
Ray rolled his eyes and took a drag from his still lit Cigaronne before brushing his hair back. The ash had been threatening to fall since the kitchen but only now, as he held it back out, did he think to tap it. Watching the eyes of the other man following the spread to the tiled floor before they snapped back to his own.
“Clean it up.” Though his voice was somewhat firm his hand shook slightly, perhaps in rage, as he pointed once more with those pink gloves, this time to the deliberately soiled, yet easy to wipe, bathroom floor, “...I said clean it up.” There was no point to argue, if anything Ray found the insistence amusing, particularly in TaeYoung's state.
Sweat was still apparent across his sallowed face, thin arms shaking from the difficulty of standard housework, chest rising with each beat from his quickly beating heart...and loose pants peaked at the front. It could have been from the unwelcome kiss, more likely because he was asserting himself, in any case Ray wasn't about to let it slip past that he could kill a man so easily whilst keeping him alive. Stripping a wet-wipe from the tub on the laundry counter, he maintained his own eye-contact as he squat down, wiping up the small amount of ash like he'd been ordered and seeing that bulge at face height twitch. He could be swift even without a knife, pulling TaeYoung close by his thin thighs and replaying his earlier kiss, but this time lower down.
“A-ah-...!” TaeYoung felt the cry cutting off at the back of his throat, about where his dick was in Ray's throat right now. His head spinning like the laundry now beneath his trembling ass, loose pants barely keeping their grip at his ankles and underwear constricting him at the knees. The spinning inside the machine was stirring his insides up too, vibrating throughout his body as he held his still gloved hands against the side. Ray's movements were like a well executed attack, each swallow like a well-placed slash of the knife in how it was draining TaeYoung of his life in record time. He was going to bleed out soon, nothing to hold him back as he was stimulated from every angle, Ray's lacking load bouncing slightly underneath him and causing the sweat to begin dripping once more. He was almost gone, eyes slipping closed, cheeks flushed red with blood beneath the skin. He didn't have to go this far, “F-fuck...”
With a stuttering of his skinny hips, TaeYoung began to ejaculate as Ray moved his mouth away, missing the other man's tattooed neck by mere centimeters and, instead, dirtying his own floor he'd just insisted be wiped clean. He was spent, more so than YeonHee had ever left him as Ray moved back to his feet almost casually for what he'd just done to him. TaeYoung's vision was still shaky, evening slightly as the washing machine righted itself and began running smoother pressed up against him, his gaze catching the glistening result of his bold action spread across the still smoldering butt of a black slim Cigaronne.
“Once you've cleaned that you can finish up out here.” To TaeYoung's mind the mess, either of them, could have been curbed with one difference. If Ray had just smoked Lucky Strike too, maybe none of this would have happened?