Work Text:
꧁꧂
It took him almost half an hour to get up from the couch. He had been thinking over his decision for days, and now curiosity was eating away at his insides. Without giving it another thought, he headed to the study slowly, because, after all, he was afraid.
Steady hands turned the doorknob, but shaky legs hurried forward. The second drawer of the desk was still locked, untouched, out of fear he might give in to the temptation of opening it.
With his lips pressed into a tight line, Wonbin finally unlocked it, digging through the back for the phone forgotten, or rather, exiled among papers and junk. As soon as the screen lit up and the signal came through, hundreds of notifications exploded across the top bar, though only one conversation caught his eye.
Lee Yena.
Or rather, Lee Yena’s widower.
It had been nearly six months since he’d left that world behind. Dozens of clients had kept reaching out until, little by little, they gave up. Still, the most recent message asked him to meet in a public place, grab a drink, and talk. It came from Yena’s phone, but it was clear it wasn’t her.
Yena was gone and with her, his desire to remain in that world of sex and wealthy lionesses.
Park Wonbin possessed an undeniably captivating beauty one that could turn the hardest stone into a sack of soft feathers, and the most virile man into a hopeless romantic. The number of people who had fallen at his feet was impossible to count, maybe because of those magnetic eyes that left women enchanted from the first glance, the first flutter of his lashes, the first flirty wink from those sweet, seemingly innocent eyes. Or maybe it was his charisma the kind that made women lean in for a kiss on the lips or on those high cheekbones that lifted when he smiled, even after the briefest of chats, apologizing with shy, performative guilt for such a bold move.
Sometimes, just the brush of a woman’s hand against Wonbin’s skin was enough to make her slip him her number, offer him a drink of whatever she was having, or ask him to dance.
And on rare occasions, the indecent proposals came. Always with mischievous smiles and a warning of upfront payment because nothing in life is free, especially not if they wanted to sleep with him. Discreet exits, expensive hotels, and bills pulled from designer purses were the usual goodbyes to his nights.
Wonbin accepted most of the offers purely for fun because a little spice with a touch of sweet gave just the right flavor to his monotony. Sometimes, the rendezvous happened in luxury hotels, other times in parking lots, in the woman’s apartment, or in their massive homes where they’d fuck in secret, hidden from their husbands.
Three hundred dollars was the minimum rate for two hours of pleasure. He didn’t need the money he had everything but his life was so dull that he craved a bit of excitement. Wonbin was a gigolo by choice.
He usually liked to frecuent upscale bars, not just because he could afford them, but because there was always a woman who needed to be touched. Women who would pay to sleep with him single women, young women, some stunning, others less so. Married women over thirty were his favorite the ones who turned Wonbin on the most. They were sleeping with a man who could easily be their son, and they absolutely loved it.
And Wonbin enjoyed hearing them ask at the end,
"Will I see you again?"
Certainly not.
When Wonbin lost his virginity at seventeen, he'd traveled to Sicily and had sex on the beach with a French girl in the middle of the night. He hadn't known it was possible to last more than ten minutes for his first time, and thanks to that, Marianne... or Marie, had enjoyed more than one orgasm.
When he returned to his native Seoul after vacationing in Italy, he finished college and moved to Seoul later to continue his gigolo life after a couple of years of clandestine celibacy. He'd had sex with girls his own age during college, but it wasn't as entertaining if they weren't paying him or if they weren't married. It wasn't the same adrenaline rush, you couldn't taste the same yearning in the air when they discreetly looked at each other at the bar before parting briefly; they didn't look at him the same way, pleading, drowning in desire and reviving in orgasm.
However, more than a year had passed. Spring had begun to make the plants bloom, and the air was becoming more pleasant. Wonbin liked spring for its gentle sunsets, which he enjoyed in his garden, feeling the soft breeze and the faint sunlight brushing against his skin.
Even so, Wonbin had willingly abandoned his profession because of an incident with one of the women he had slept with. She had been his first client at the beginning of autumn, his most frequent one, the most beautiful, and the one he would remember with deep nostalgia during those sunsets, accompanied by his Chinese tea set as he sat at his small English wooden table on the terrace.
The medical report indicated an overdose of medication and alcohol she had taken before their encounter. Cantarina, chlorpromazine, and whiskey had been enough to kill her, and Wonbin would never forget her beautiful face, frozen before him.
Yena loved experimenting with positions with her lover, loved riding him until she reached a wild orgasm. But Wonbin should have known something was wrong when she asked him to be gentle and slow while she lay there, moaning softly almost weakly.
He simply obeyed, seeing her as glorious as ever, undressing her, letting her presence fill the room once again. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lips whispered his name two, three, hundreds of times. For the first time, Wonbin felt like he was making love to someone. And who better than the beautiful Mrs. Lee, Lee Yena?
He had seen her writhe and lose herself in pleasure countless times in the few nights they had spent together. But this time, he wanted to give her more than just a few orgasms.
Then, Yena went quiet.
The hand that had been gripping his as she trembled beneath him slipped away from his fingers. The feet that had been tense at the edge of the bed relaxed. The eyes Wonbin loved to watch as Yena gasped in pleasure… stared blankly into nothingness.
Yena no sighed anymore, no sound came from her, and Wonbin never again gave pleasure to another woman throughout the passing of autumn and winter.
His private phone had remained off since that day, and he had endured returning to his monotonous life for almost half a year.
But today, he was holding that phone in his hands again, captive to the curiosity and the desire to return to the same vice that had led him to her.
The name, glowing in bright white light, carried a long message alongside a smaller one, received about a month ago.
"Please, I need to see you."
꧁꧂
His name was Lee Chanyoung.
He had asked to meet at the hotel where Wonbin had always gone with Yena an exclusive building in the city center. Unlike before, this time, Wonbin didn’t bother to look elegant or ready to hunt his next target. He was simply a twenty-year-old kid looking for the husband of the last woman he had slept with probably an older man, overweight, with repressed vices.
It was almost shocking to find himself face-to-face with a tall man, at least six feet, with eyes so dark they seemed black and a face so striking it looked as if it had been sculpted from marble. His eyes were small but intense, his posture elegant, exuding power and intimidation without even trying terrifying in front of a boy dressed in nothing but a wool sweater and casual jeans.
What overwhelmed him the most was how attractive he was because it was definitely him. He had introduced himself as Lee Chanyoung, and even the waiter had addressed him with a polite, "Something to drink, Mr. Lee?"
"A bourbon, thank you. Will you have anything?" The man adjusted his jacket and sleeves before taking a seat. Wonbin shook his head, and the waiter stepped away.
Chanyoung was dressed in an impeccably tailored suit that highlighted his slender figure. His dark hair was neatly styled, with his bangs swept up to the side. Wonbin looked at him, and Chanyoung returned the gaze, probably judging him for his disheveled appearance, for his past, for being more than just a companion.
"Binna, right?"
"Wonbin is my real name, sir."
Chanyoung smirked slightly, took the glass from the waiter, sipped the bourbon, then set it down on the small table between them.
"Wonbin. How old are you?"
"Twenty, sir."
"Ah, twenty," he murmured, as if savoring the sweetness of his youth on his tongue. His gaze swept over Wonbin’s face, then his body—and perhaps even the out-of-place backpack resting on his lap. "Coming from class?"
"That’s right, sir."
"You shouldn’t call me 'sir.' Or did you call my wife 'ma’am'?"
Wonbin clenched his jaw, his gaze faltering, his hands trembling with nerves. Around all those women, he had been a seductive man. But now, sitting in front of that dark-haired stranger, he was nothing more than a defenseless child meek and afraid.
"No."
"Good. I won’t call you Binna, and you won’t call me ‘sir.’"
Wonbin felt ridiculous and uneasy, watching as Chanyoung pulled a cigar from the silver case inside his jacket. He clipped the tip with a guillotine cutter, then lit it almost ritualistically, taking a long drag. The smoke curled from his lips, drifting over his perfect face as if it were cleansing him.
"Do you smoke?"
"Only cigarettes, uh…"
"Chanyoung. You can call me Chanyoung. I suppose Yena never talked to you about me."
"No," he answered curtly.
Chanyoung kept his eyes on him, smoking and sipping his drink without ever looking away. A little lamb, trapped under the gaze of a black wolf.
"You’re beautiful, young… charming, even. But I feel like you’re not the same man who used to flirt with women like my wife."
Wonbin fidgeted with his fingers, licked his lips, and wished he could leave. Wished that man would stop looking at him, stop saying such unsettling things. He wished he had never come or maybe, he just wished Lee Chanyoung had been an overweight old man, someone he could look down on with arrogance. That way, at least, he could feel superior. But not like this. Not when Chanyoung was ridiculously attractive.
"She was a worldly woman. Classy, elegant, proud. I gave her everything. I devoted myself to giving her whatever she wanted and for what? I can’t understand what she saw in a mere boy."
"I’m not just a mere boy, Chanyoung," Wonbin snapped.
He wasn’t sure if the man was trying to provoke him, but if that was the case, it was working he had taken the bait. And he knew it the moment he saw the suggestive glint in Chanyoung’s eyes.
"You think you’re not just a boy because you fucked my wife? Because you fucked other men’s wives? That doesn’t make you more of a man. That doesn’t make you more experienced."
"But they all came to me."
"Women’s preferences change over time," Chanyoung smirked, and Wonbin felt fire and fury rush through his veins. "When they reach a certain age, they love feeling desirable to teenagers like you."
"I’m not a teen."
"Oh, really?" He looked at him with arrogant amusement, and Wonbin immediately regretted his words.
"Then prove it."
꧁꧂
Wonbin wanted to tell him he wasn’t gay because he certainly wasn’t. He had turned down plenty of men who wanted to fuck him, simply because he found it terrifying how wild and ravenous most of them seemed. And no, he wasn’t willing to be hurt by that kind of brutality.
Both men arrived at Room 5017, the meeting place between Wonbin and Yena. The room looked the same as always: champagne-colored curtains covering the city view from the fifth floor, a spacious bed with a padded ash-gray headboard, matching duvet, and crisp white sheets. The carpeted floor softened their steps, and Wonbin placed his backpack to the side, recognizing the same ornaments that had always welcomed him when he met with the woman.
"It was here, wasn’t it?"
"Yes."
Chanyoung let out a long sigh one that felt like melancholy. It hurt, yet at the same time, it was a relief. He wasn’t there to hate him or place blame; he just wanted to visit the place where his wife had taken her last breath.
"Did you love her?" he asked suddenly. Wonbin watched from the doorway as Chanyoung took off his jacket, loosened his tie, unfastened the top buttons of his shirt, and slipped off his shoes.
"Of course."
"Good. Then we have something in common. Come here, Wonbin." The man gestured to his right, to a spot where Wonbin would fit perfectly. A soft ray of sunlight hit his sharp features, making him squint slightly, and the shine of his black hair turned a warm copper hue. "I’m not going to hurt you. Come."
Wonbin obeyed, walking over slowly. The same ray of light hit his face as he sat down, and all he could see was a beautiful face a man in need of answers.
Chanyoung pulled out a checkbook and a gleaming silver pen from the pocket of his forgotten jacket beside the bed. He wrote down a number with several zeros, signed it, and handed it to the boy. An amount he would normally make in three weekends.
"What is this?"
"My advance payment for your services. It’s the price to keep you docile."
Wonbin swallowed hard, his lower lip trembled, and he tensed when the man’s large hand rested on his face, caressing his cheek with the back of his fingers. His eyes held a gleam that had nothing to do with adoration it was something closer to despotism.
"Now I understand why my wife asked me for a divorce," he murmured, his rough voice coming out sharper than he had intended. "Now I understand why she sighed your name in her sleep."
The golden skin of the boy bristled, a mountain of unease settled on his shoulders, forcing him to close his eyes and succumb to the man's touch. His nervousness did not fade, especially when he felt two fingers gently lifting his chin.
"Did my wife ask you to undress her, or did she do it for you?"
Wonbin’s watery eyes met his stoic and imposing, towering over him.
"Sometimes she asked me to undress her."
"Did she do it for you?"
She did. Yena had a particular preference for shedding her clothes slowly, almost as if she were careful not to tear the wrapping of a piece of art. Many times, Wonbin shivered with anticipation, aching to be freed from the prison of his clothing, yearning to show himself as he truly was before the woman’s beauty.
"Yes, she did. Slowly."
"Tell me, where did she start?"
"She insisted on being naked first."
That was Yena. Wonbin believed it was the sensation of exposure that excited her the dominance she felt over herself when her vulnerability bloomed before the handsome boy she was about to share a bed with. And Wonbin never complained, he couldn't, not when he had admired so many times the way her hands traveled over her naked body, how she clung to the sleeves of his suit and then to the lapels of his jacket. There was something thrilling about beginning to fuck her fully dressed and reaching orgasm barely undressed.
"Then undress me," he demanded.
Wonbin pressed his lips together.
"Sir, I'm not—"
"I told you not to call me 'sir.' And I’ve also signed a check with a good amount of money. Or is your price higher?"
"My price doesn’t matter, Chanyoung. I’m not gay."
"Neither am I," he replied playfully, almost mocking him. Wonbin felt overwhelmed and confused.
"I'm not going to fuck you, I just want to touch."
The dark-haired man stood in front of him, pulled his shirt from his pants, and unbuttoned it slowly, from chest to abdomen. His porcelain-white skin glowed under the dim lighting of the room, and Wonbin didn’t look away he couldn't, even if he wanted to.
"Chanyoung..."
"I'll undress first, just like she did."
His fingers slid the fabric off his shoulders, and Wonbin took in the sight of his broad chest, firm pectorals, a lean torso sculpted by exercise, and a pair of dark nipples so different, smaller than a woman’s. They were more like his own, flatter and less rounded.
"You can tell me to stop if that's what you want."
The shirt fell onto the carpet with a soft thud, the belt slipped through the loops of his tailored pants, and the buckle clinked as it landed on the other side. Chanyoung played with the button of his trousers, and that’s when Wonbin finally reacted.
"Stop!"
And he did it.
Dark eyes watched him from beneath thick, long lashes, while he met them with his own brown gaze under caramel-colored, wavy bangs. He thought about the money he didn’t actually need and about how the offer was too tempting to be real.
He imagined touching and being touched by rougher, coarser hands so different from those of the woman he had adored. Chanyoung remained still, true to his promise, while Wonbin sat there, just as intimidated as before.
After long seconds, he made a decision.
He stood up, nearly as tall as the dark-haired man. He looked into his eyes, then at his bare collarbones, and back at his face. The younger man’s hands settled on Chanyoung’s shoulders, gripping them to keep his balance.
"Yena… liked it when I kissed her while taking off her dress."
"As you can see, I’m not wearing a dress."
"I can take off your pants."
"Then do it. And kiss me too."
Wonbin licked his dry lips and pressed his mouth to Chanyoung’s skin, inhaling the fresh scent of his cologne at the curve of his neck. He felt the man tilt his head back to give him better access. Kissing a man was different but not any less thrilling, at least not in that moment.
"Wait," Chanyoung suddenly said.
Wonbin stopped, the tip of his tongue barely peeking from his lips. He wasn’t sure if what he felt was relief or frustration.
"I want… I want to change positions."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I wanted to feel what you did to my wife, but… I thought maybe, just for a moment, I could imagine that I had once been the one to satisfy her."
In the darkness of Chanyoung’s small eyes, Wonbin saw a flicker of pain. Guilt, perhaps. Or maybe poorly disguised fear, masked behind a wavering composure.
"Yena and I didn’t share the bed much except to sleep. I don’t blame her for turning to you."
Then, with quiet authority, he said, "Now turn around."
Wonbin obeyed, lost in a haze of confusion and shame. He wanted to ask more about her.
Yena had often spoken about how little she saw her husband. She didn’t really talk about him only about the restrained passion in her veins that sought release in the arms of young men.
Many times, she had told him he was the best the only one who had ever brought her to such intense ecstasy. Orgasms crashed over her more than once during each of their encounters, and Wonbin always lay back, satisfied, knowing he had made her feel more pleasure than anyone else. That was his job with her and with all his clients. However, with Yena, it was different.
There was something in that selfishness of his that brought him relief, a sense of fulfillment. Watching the woman he adored writhe on top of him was the greatest pleasure of all. How could he possibly tell the man behind him that he had been the one to own his wife's orgasms?
His thoughts dissolved when the older man’s hands slid down his shoulders, then his arms, until they reached his slightly wide hips. Chanyoung took hold of the edge of his wool sweater and lifted it gently. A strip of golden skin was revealed for a moment before the blue shirt fell back into place.
Chanyoung brushed back the younger man's wavy strands, the locks feeling soft under his touch. Then, his hands moved back down, settling on Wonbin’s slim waist. Wonbin closed his eyes, allowing the warm breath behind him to graze his long neck. His nipples hardened when a wet tongue touched his skin, and a terrible hunger curled in his stomach.
The sharp sound of kisses against his nape drilled into his ears. He tilted his head to the side, giving Chanyoung access to the right side of his neck as well. Wonbin let him bite, suck, and lick as much as he wanted. It didn’t feel bad not even with a man being the one touching him this way.
Chanyoung’s hands moved toward the buckle of his belt, slipping around the waist of his jeans. Wonbin clenched his fingers against the burning skin not to stop him, but more to steady himself against something. Or someone.
"Can I take this off?" Chanyoung asked, his voice soft, almost gentle.
Wonbin nodded, a small, high-pitched sound escaping his throat as confirmation.
The older man's hands slid down to his wrists, holding onto his firm arms while his mouth worked wonders on his skin. The belt dropped to the floor, and one of those large hands cradled the growing bulge between his legs, moving slowly, exploring over the denim.
Wonbin forgot it was a man touching him this well touching him in a way that made him want more. He forgot that the usually delicate hands were now rougher, that the grip was wilder, more commanding. None of it mattered anymore, not when his cock swelled rapidly inside his underwear, soaking it, staining it with crystal-clear drops that proved just how good Chanyoung was at this.
"Chanyoung," he sighed, his cheeks burning with the shame of moaning his name so soon.
"Yeah? Do you want me to take it off?"
"Yes," he answered immediately. His teary eyes shut tightly, and he let out a relieved breath as the tightness around his hips loosened.
His jeans slid down with some difficulty, and at that moment, a hard erection pressed against his ass right as the same warm hand from before returned to cradle his cock.
"Does it feel good?" Chanyoung murmured, voice husky.
"It feels really good," Wonbin replied, breathless.
"Take your feet out of your clothes."
Wonbin obeyed, kicking off his shoes and socks in the process. He felt the softness of the bed behind his legs, the cold duvet sending a shiver through his skin as he plopped down, his face now level with Chanyoung’s abdomen.
"Lie down," Chanyoung ordered, and he complied. The older man gave a firm pat to his thighs, signaling for him to move up properly, and Wonbin did just that.
"Relax, we’ll take it slow. Tell me, what else did you do with Yena?"
"We...," he faltered, a little anxious, a little nervous, and embarrassed, "we used to rub against each other."
"Without clothes?"
"With clothes."
Chanyoung regretted sounding too eager, but he positioned himself between Wonbin’s legs. He pulled off his pants and straddled the younger man, resting his weight on his knees while his palms pressed into the mattress on either side of Wonbin’s head.
A burning heat swelled in Wonbin’s chest, anticipation coiling inside him as he longed for the pressure against the growing bulge in his underwear.
He felt his breath catch as Chanyoung rubbed his erection against his. Once, twice, three times. Nine, ten times, until the glistening tip of his cock slipped through the waistband of his boxers. He opened his legs and enclosed his body so that he understood he needed more speed, more pressure. He was a man, not a delicate woman.
His body, still covered in the blue shirt, felt hot against the comforter. Chanyoung was releasing precum, and that liquid was staining him as well.
"You kissed her while you were rubbing against each other?" he asked. Or rather, he seemed to be asking for permission hidden in a small interrogation. Wonbin nodded and gasped an agitated yes.
Wonbin's head sank into the pillows as Chanyoung devoured his neck without slowing the rhythm of his hips. Then, his mouth traveled up to his jawline, and the sound of wet kisses sent shivers down his spine. Wonbin tangled his fingers in Chanyoung’s black hair when their lips finally met in a desperate clash.
Clumsy kisses, colliding in their incompatibility. Two men fighting for dominance, until Chanyoung coaxed a moan from him and seized the moment to slip his tongue into the younger man’s mouth.
Now their kisses aligned deep, urgent, wild smearing saliva along the edges of their lips in almost primal movements.
Chanyoung pulled away, and Wonbin's fingers instinctively found their place against his broad back.
"Tell me... what else did Yena ask you for?"
"She," he gasped, "asked me to give her oral sex."
Chanyoung drew a soft smile on his lips. He settled at the edge of the bed and slowly removed the younger man's soaked underwear. His penis sprang free, and his broad hips twitched in a couple of spasms, seeking more contact.
Wonbin convulsed anxiously, the cold air hit his damp member, and he bit his lower lip, fearful, or perhaps anxious to know what the other would do.
"Did she make you cum with oral sex?"
"Yes," he lied. Yena had only tried it once, but Wonbin resisted because he was afraid he wouldn’t get hard again. "She did."
However, with Chanyoung, everything felt so intense. Just a few kisses and touches, a few rubs of his cock against his, and he already felt so close to ecstasy. It no longer mattered whether he was gay or not maybe it was just curiosity, but whatever it was, it felt incredible.
Chanyoung used his fingers first. He stroked the slit at the tip with his thumb and slid it toward the small ridge in front, applying gentle pressure that made Wonbin squirm. That was when Wonbin realized that a man could satisfy another man very well because that was exactly where he loved to touch himself.
“Fuck, stop.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No,” he panted, droplets of sweat trailing down his forehead and neck. “It’s too much.”
“Does it feel good?”
No, he wanted to say. This went beyond that.
“You’re torturing me.”
Chanyoung kept moving his thumb in circles, slicking his finger with the clear precum and continuing, this time running his hand along the shaft once before returning to the tip.
“You’re so hard.”
"It feels really good."
Wonbin kept writhing under his touch. Chanyoung lowered his face and kissed his stomach, the tip of Wonbin's cock brushing against his firm pecs. Then he kissed, licked, and sucked around the short patch of hair surrounding his cock, cupping his balls with his fingers. He massaged the delicate skin and continued licking along the shaft until he reached the tip, where most of Wonbin’s pleasure had gathered.
When Chanyoung took the tip into his mouth, Wonbin’s hips jerked up in a spasm, seeking more contact, more warmth. Then he pulled it out of his mouth with an obscene pop.
The entire world shrank to the wet heat of Chanyoung’s mouth so skilled, so perfect. Wonbin craved more, and Chanyoung gave it to him; his legs trembled and were held up, lifted into the air in one swift movement, and Wonbin felt exposed.
Chanyoung’s mouth, so warm and marvelous, kissed the vein running along his shaft, then sucked on his balls and trailed down the perineum until he reached the puckered ring of muscle that twitched under his breath. Wonbin trembled and tried to push him away when the wet tongue stroked his ass.
"Don't do that! Fuck!" His fingers pulled at Chanyoung's black hair, but his legs parted slightly, eager to feel more of that tingling sensation. So contradictory that he wanted to hide under the sheets.
Chanyoung pulled away, and Wonbin could finally look at him as his legs were lowered. His face was a mess—black strands in disarray, breathing ragged, gasping for oxygen.
"It's part of oral sex."
"Not for a man."
"Oral sex is with the mouth. I'm using my mouth on you."
"I'm not a woman," he retorted.
"But you did this with Yena," Chanyoung stated. "And I want to do to you what you did to her."
A large hand rested on Wonbin's hip bone, moving slowly as if coaxing him to turn over. Wonbin trembled with fear, feeling exposed, his ass lifted into the air for him.
"Trust me. I'll add five hundred thousand more if you want."
"Five hundred thousand, almost the equivalent of four hundred dollars," he thought.
He rested his head on the pillow, slid his arms beneath it, and waited to feel that soft tongue again.
When the touch came, Wonbin shuddered once more.
He parted his legs instinctively when Chanyoung spread his cheeks and devoured his ass as if it were a delicacy sucking at the sides, nibbling at the flesh, then returning to slurp at the ring of muscle. Moans escaped him, one after another, the tingling sensation overwhelming, and he started moving his hips, seeking more, trying to relieve his neglected erection trapped between his body and the mattress.
"Lift your ass," Chanyoung ordered. Wonbin obeyed, staying on all fours with his chest pressed against the duvet. He moaned loudly when Chanyoung's hand pulled at his cock and his mouth sucked on his balls. His fingers tangled in the older man's hair when the tongue returned to his entrance, this time more insistent, firmer, teasing his hole.
It felt so obscene, so good.
Wet kisses and sucking noises filled the air, along with a thick sexual tension begging for release. Wonbin trembled, his legs shaking. His back arched and then collapsed again as the storm of his orgasm coiled in his belly before white strands shot out of his cock, spilling onto the mattress.
His breath came in gasps, his whimpers desperate as he collapsed onto the bed, trying to catch his breath. He felt overwhelmed when he sensed something slipping out of him.
A pair of fingers.
When had Chanyoung put his fingers inside him?
The man caressed his skin his ass, his back. Wonbin felt him cradling him from behind, pressing soft kisses onto his overheated skin, sending another shiver down his spine. He was still sensitive from his orgasm, and Chanyoung, now naked as well, had an erection trapped against the small of his back neglected and probably swollen.
Chanyoung lay over him, and Wonbin welcomed the weight of his body. He accepted his kisses slowly, allowed their tongues to tangle once again, and let Chanyoung's hard cock rub against his own, now softer.
“Tell me what else you did with her,” he whispered. Wonbin sighed, overwhelmed.
But this felt different more like, Tell me what you want me to do to you.
It wasn’t about her anymore. It was just the two of them now.
Wonbin found himself surrendering to the pleasure, eager to continue whatever this was. He guided Chanyoung’s face to his chest and bit his lip when the older man’s mouth latched onto his left nipple. That was what he used to do with Yena, stimulate her erogenous zones but it was also what he wanted Chanyoung to do to him.
The black-haired man sucked at patches of skin on his chest, his abdomen, his stomach. Then he kissed and licked at the smooth golden flesh, brushing his lips over the dimples on his lower back and every mole he encountered.
His body was covered in Chanyoung’s mouth in his kisses, his bites, the reddish marks that would soon turn purple.
And fuck, he was enjoying every second of it.
Chanyoung straightened up in bed, and Wonbin looked at him. The dim light of the setting sun bathed his pale skin in gold, specks of dust glittering around him. Wonbin sat up as well, reaching for his face to kiss him.
The older man squeezed his ass as Wonbin searched for his erection, wrapping his fingers around it with a gentle squeeze. The hard, hot flesh felt heavy in his hands, and he wanted to taste it, to bite around the hairless skin, to rub against him with more force, to sink him inside.
Chanyoung’s hands were rough against his soft skin, while Wonbin’s hands felt smooth against the heated flesh of his cock. Wonbin pulled away from the kiss to watch his face the furrowed brows, the clenched jaw, the way his expression tightened as his erection finally received attention. Wonbin gripped it tighter and played with his thumb over the tip, just as Chanyoung had done to him. Then, he made him lie back, straddled him, and rubbed against him his short hair prickling against Chanyoung’s smooth skin, but the pleasurable friction overshadowed any other sensation.
Wonbin leaned in to kiss him again, while Chanyoung’s fingers spread him open, allowing the younger man to dictate the rhythm with his hips. He was stretching him, his fingers slick with the remnants of cum, pressing into the hot, tight walls tighter than a woman, but just as warm.
Wonbin kept moving desperately, his erection growing again over Chanyoung’s, both of their fluids mixing together with every motion.
They shared a desperate kiss, breathing in each other's air, driven by the primal instinct to satisfy their pleasure. His insides burned, but some hidden spot deep within him sent a shudder through his body, momentarily paralyzing him.
"Does it feel good?"
"Yes," he gasped. "Yes, it feels so fucking good," he hissed.
His body trembled, his brows furrowing under the overwhelming sensation. Chanyoung watched him with that lustful gleam that made him shiver. He had only known this man for less than an hour, yet he was already about to make him come for the second time both of them using nothing but their fingers.
He wanted to pull away for a moment, to consider if what he was doing was right, if he was gay, or what the hell was happening. But he couldn't. Not when he was at Lee Chanyoung’s mercy, naked over his body, with those fingers moving so perfectly inside him.
"I'm close," he gasped, whimpered, moaned. Shaken by the overwhelming pleasure from that spot being mercilessly worked, Wonbin buried his face in Chanyoung’s thick neck, drowning in his scent as one, two spasms wracked his body.
But he didn't reach his climax.
"Not yet," Chanyoung growled, pulling his fingers out and gripping his hips. "Did Yena like riding you?"
"Uh-huh," he nodded, desperate to feel him again.
"Then ride me like she did. Go at your own pace."
Chanyoung smacked his ass lightly, stretched his arm to retrieve a metallic packet from his pants pocket, and tore it open between two fingers. He slid the condom over his erection, waiting for the warmth of the younger man.
"Are you scared?"
Wonbin nodded. He wanted to run, but he also wanted to reach his release.
"We'll go at your pace," Chanyoung promised.
Something in his calm eyes made him abandon the thought of running away.
He brought three of his fingers to the older man's mouth, and Chanyoung let them in, coating them with as much saliva as possible. When Wonbin pulled them back, it was only to stretch himself a little more. He closed his eyes, lost in the relief washing over his stomach as he touched himself the way he wanted. Then, he felt a trail of kisses and nips climbing from his chest to his chin, and that was when he reached for the shaft, guiding it between his cheeks.
Pain, pleasure his breath hitched the moment the condom-covered tip pushed inside. His cock leaked, his body froze, and rough hands gripped his hips. His own, now damp, tangled into that sleek black hair.
This time, he had someone to hold onto when he reached the peak of his pleasure. He could let someone take care of him, surrender to the moment, and let someone else take control let Chanyoung take control.
When he finally moved more freely, he barely managed to press a kiss against the older man’s lips. He rode him clumsily, the bed moving more than their bodies, the shaft barely slipping in and out of him. Then, Chanyoung laid back and took hold of his ass, spreading him open before thrusting up slow at first, deep, then faster.
Wonbin felt his breath slip away.
Chanyoung buried himself so deep that there was no space left between them not even room for the thought of another woman. He thrust again, and again, and again, and the only thing Wonbin could focus on was the dark eyes locked onto his face, the hot breath washing over his skin, and the strong hands gripping his body.
Chanyoung growled again, this time from deep in his chest, rumbling in his throat, his veins swelling at his temples. His hips snapped against the younger man’s body without restraint, and Wonbin reached his second orgasm before collapsing, his walls tightening around the older man's cock and triggering Chanyoung’s release inside the condom.
Their sweat-slicked bodies slid against each other, but Chanyoung held him close, keeping him against his chest. Their heavy breaths gradually steadied, and Wonbin settled against the older man's torso. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, and he struggled to hide the aftershocks of his climax.
"Yena," he muttered, "she liked to cuddle with me when we were done."
"You used to sleep together?" Chanyoung asked, his deep, raspy voice brushing against Wonbin's crown.
"Yeah, we used to sleep together."
Chanyoung smiled, trailing his fingers over the younger man's bare back, feeling the way his skin shivered under his touch. He reached for the blanket and pulled it over both their exhausted bodies.
"Then sleep, Wonbin. Sleep curled up with me."
꧁꧂
Wonbin woke up amidst the dim glow of artificial light.
Lying on his stomach, he noticed the bedside lamp to his left was still on. To his right nothing.
He pushed himself up, naked beneath the sheets, a dull ache running down his spine, making it difficult to sit properly. Reaching for his phone, he checked the time. Nine at night.
He was hungry, exhausted, and alone.
On the nightstand, two checks bore Lee Chanyoung’s signature, each with a substantial amount. Beside them, a card with an address and a phone number. On the back, a small note that made him smile.
"You're young, beautiful, and addictive. I would’ve asked her the divorce because of you too."