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just a touch of your love

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The first week after the doctor pronounces Moohak’s clean bill of health, they fuck on practically every surface in his apartment. It’s part making up for lost time, part getting lost in each other; part celebration that he’s alive and here, that both of them are, after everything.  

Even outside his place, they have trouble keeping their hands off each other.  Wontak’s cockblocking ways aren’t enough to deter them. Like the time they can’t wait to get inside (~get him inside her~) and they nearly get caught by Wontak if it isn’t for Dali knocking their bag of takeaway food onto Moohak’s pants and a very strategic use of a suit jacket.  Another time, they end up getting carried away watching TV in the rooftop apartment that Dali and Wontak share which ends in Dali dumping a cup of iced americano, ice and all, on his crotch when Wontak suddenly appears with his best security guard face on (Moohak thinks secretly that it makes him look constipated). Dali offers him a blow job afterwards to make up for that but even though Dali’s mouth should be one of the seven wonders of the world, Moohak still mourns those pants to this day.


When he complains about his pants being ruined twice and why uri Wontak can’t just accept that they’re adults who want to fuck sometimes in his apartment and give them some space; after all it’s Dali ’s place too, Dali smiles serenely. “ Yes, I agree with you, jagi. No more kissing when you’re wearing your work suits, I promise.”


“Wait. What?” he asks, crestfallen. That had not been what he meant.


“Yes, I think it’s very hard on you having your expensive suits ruined. I know how much you value them. And you’re not getting your money’s worth if you also have to pay for costly dry cleaning bills,” she continues with that polite smile still on her face. Moohak files that away for later under Things about Kim Dali that Turn him On more than they Should: Dali’s Secretly Wicked Grins. It’s quite a long list by now.


“B-but,” he sputters. “That wasn’t what I meant! I just-”


Dali looks amused (is that a glint in her eye?) as she leans  in  to press a kiss on his mouth, her palm caressing the curve of his cheek. “I know what you meant, jagi. Of course you are right as always.”


As always she leaves him feeling swept off his feet, bereft; just like the first time he’d seen her in a foreign airport in the Netherlands, when the world had narrowed down to her and only her.  


He lasts all of a day before he’s at her office in  Cheongsong gallery at lunchtime, begging her to please just kiss him, expensive suit be damned.


“But,” Dali says innocently. “Your suits are always getting ruined. You’re right that we’ve been together for months now. We should be past that stage where we can’t keep our hands off each other, don’t you think, jagi?”


Moohak can feel his jaw practically unhinge itself. “Kim! Dali!” He knows that he’s whining now but she can’t possibly keep up this ruse for longer.


But if there’s one thing he knows about his girl, it’s that she’s tenacious as all hell, and a fighter to boot and he loves her for it. Dali perches on the office desk in front of where he’s seated, making a big show of crossing her legs, thus giving him a very good view of exactly what’s underneath her skirt, or rather what’s not .


Moohak gasps. This is a criminal offence, no, an act of war. Dali smirks at him. He thinks he’s going to come in his pants.


He will not ruin a third pair.


“Okay,” she relents, a glint in her eye. “But only if you’re quiet. It would be bad if any of the staff hears. You can do that, can’t you, jagi?”


She knows he can’t. Usually she loves how loud he is in bed; how he can’t stop the sounds that escape him, how nakedly he displays his desire for her. She eats up every single bit of it, usually encourages him further. I like you when you're like this, she’d murmured once when they’d been lying in bed post-coital, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, her head on his chest. What? he'd asked confused. It makes me feel like I'm wanted.  She’d curled into him then and let him see that jagged edge of a wound inside her from long ago, the abandoned orphan child she used to be, that part of her  that she'd tried to hide for so long because other people had made her feel like it was a shameful thing to be adopted. It’d made him ache for her and he’d vowed then to protect it with everything in him. Good , he’d said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. My jagi should always feel that way .


Moohak turns to leave defeated.


She catches his wrist before he can, leaning in close, her lips practically brushing his ear and setting every inch of him on fire. “Listen jagi, why don’t you go home after work, get changed and meet me at this address later?”


The noise that bursts out of him is frankly, embarrassing. “I can’t possibly wait that long!”


“Well,” Dali says in her best version of her Diplomatic Gallery Director voice, which is almost like her Heiress of Cheonseong voice but with all the authority of her Scholar Kim Dali one.  “There are other ways we humans can satisfy ourselves in that department. You don’t need me for that, do you, jagi?” She looks pointedly at his hands.


“I-,” he sputters indignantly. “That’s not the same. I need…I need…”

“What, jagi?” She waits, her facial features schooled into the perfect picture of placidness.


You ...” His words trail off helplessly. He doesn’t know how she does this; how she undoes him till he’s flustered, lost for words.


 Moohak could scream. “I just...” he starts. Moohak doesn’t take things lying down; he wouldn’t have gotten where he is today if he did.  He unbuttons his top button, loosening his tie and shifting his shirt material just so, revealing his collarbone and the top of his pecs in the way he knows she thinks is sexy.


Dali feigns nonchalance but he knows she’s just pretending that she isn’t just a little bit turned on.


 He readies himself for his bombshell.


“You can’t resist my killer body.”


Dali bursts into laughter at this, eyes crinkling up, her whole body shaking with it. It hits him then all at once, like a flood suffusing his body, how much he adores her when she’s like this, how he would go to the ends of the earth to protect her joy.  “There you go again,” she manages between spurts of giggles, hand over her mouth. “With that killer body comment. You-you’re so funny, jagi.”


He ducks his head, can’t help the smile that’s already making its way onto his face. He can’t help it - every compliment from Dali is like food from the gods even if he doesn’t understand what he did to receive it. “Yeah?”


Dali is near tears now. “I’ve already seen all of that before.” The flickering smile she lets loose on her face sparks one on Moohak himself, an ember that keeps glowing and growing inside of him until he feels alight, alive with it. And then, he’s laughing too until he’s giddy with it and it’s the both of them in it together, this shared joy.

Dali leans up then, pulling him into a kiss and he can’t help the moan that escapes him as he licks into the wet heat of her mouth like a man lost in the desert stumbling upon an oasis. She tastes so good and it’s everything at once- the sweetness of strawberries in summer (growing up strawberries had been a luxury), sun drenched and theirs for the taking; the unexpected rainbows of light that dance through the window during a summer storm, but also hot and heady and desperate like the world is burning down around them and every touch could be their last. As long as he lives, he thinks, he never wants to get the taste of her out of his mouth.


“Just like that?” he asks. He loves the feeling of her arms around his neck, the way it makes him feel like he’s hers. And like he belongs,  unlike the cold dinner table at his father’s house where he’d felt alone and lonely even though he was surrounded by family.  


“Just like that,”  she says with a smile.


“I’m really that irresistible, right?”


Dali smirks, reaching up to stroke the hair off his forehead, fond. “No, I just took pity on you. You’re so adorable when you’re flustered, jagi. You should see your face.”  


There are so many kisses after that. Lots and lots of kissing, enveloped in laughter. Dali takes care of his noise problem by using his tie as a gag. She finally frees his aching cock, pressing a gentle kiss to the scar on his stomach. It takes his breath away. They kiss sloppy and messy but oh so good, Dali’s hand on his cock stroking him to completion. Then she finally, finally lets him near her cunt and he nearly stumbles over himself in his eagerness to please her. He crooks his fingers inside her just the way she'd taught him she likes it.  As he watches her give herself up to pleasure, he wishes he could give her this, this happiness for always.

The address she gives him turns out to be Dali’s new apartment she’s just rented with Gongju. “Don’t worry,” she says, “Gongju promised she’d be out tonight.” They do their best to christen the place, Moohak kissing his way up her thighs and then pressing soft sweet kisses on the folds at the core of her. He thinks he could live here forever, his head between her thighs, subsist alone on the soft sighs she’s making, the way her hand curls in his hair, the shivery gasp she makes as she breathes out his name while he writes his adoration of her with his tongue, a litany to live by.   Then there are the moments where they pause to look at each other, soak the other in; still after all this time it never gets old, how much they want to savour each other. Dali caresses the side of his head and he holds her with reverence. Their kisses turn less frantic, more lingering as the night goes on. He likes how she makes him still inside.

She holds him through his orgasm, strokes his hair and whispers praises as it crashes over him, waves and waves of pleasure, leaving him feeling hollowed out and full at the same time. She murmurs his name into his skin, kisses him all over his face as he lays there, blissed out, unable to move, and it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever known. He knows he can leave every bit of himself all out here in the open for her and she would take it and keep it safe, guard it well. And he’s never felt more at home.