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It wouldn’t be the first time Jongseong picks up a stray.
He remembers his cubicle mate making fun of him when he’d brought in a kitten—a filthy little thing, with more mud than fur on its shivering body—only to sneeze the entire day as it rubbed itself on his forearms, purring and content. But it had been cold that day, and if there is one thing about Jongseong that never changes, it’s his bleeding heart.
Today isn’t so different, except the kitten is a nervous-looking boy who couldn’t be older than nineteen or twenty. He’d picked him up on his way back from getting an underwhelming lunchbox from the convenience store down the street. Now, Jongseong isn’t in the habit of lifting teenagers off the streets, but he’d been standing, lips turning blue, under the downpour, looking down at his phone like glaring at it would force it alive.
And maybe he’d felt particularly compassionate when the poor thing had nervously asked him for help in stuttered Korean. So now he’s sitting, shivering but almost dry, in the extra chair they have next to the printer. He bounces his leg, as if that would make his phone charge faster.
Sunghoon isn’t back from his break yet, and so Jongseong enjoys the peace he finds in not having to explain himself.
“Thank you again, mister,” says the boy in a shy, clipped voice. Jongseong looks up from the email he wasn’t really reading. The boy looks like he wants to say something else, but eventually gives up with a small, disappointed sigh.
“No worries,” he replies. And then, because the curiosity is honestly killing him a little: “Are you a foreigner?”
The boy ducks, as if embarrassed at having been caught.
“No, I’m Korean—but I was living in Australia before, so I only ever spoke English.”
He sounds ashamed of it, as if being Korean should have immediately granted him the language. Jongseong sees himself, almost two decades earlier, wearing the same expression the boy is wearing now. Biting his lip. Averting his eyes.
“Hey, don’t worry about that,” he reassures, in English. “My Korean also wasn’t very good when I got here. I was in second grade for like two years because of it.”
The boy’s eyes snap up, wide and sparkling.
“You’re American?” he asks loudly, excited. “Dude, you don’t even know how much I’ve missed hearing English. I’ve been here for four days and I could cry right now.”
Jongseong laughs, amused. Suddenly, the boy is a lot less shy. His face is bright, with glimmering eyes and a wide smile. He looks like an excited puppy, and Jongseong has to resist the urge to coo.
“What, not calling me mister anymore?” he teases instead, just to watch the boy turn guilty.
“I never know what titles to use, man,” he groans. “It’s like, you look young enough to be a hyung, but then that would be rude, right? But I feel like Shakespeare when I use formal speech. And then, when do I have to switch from polite to formal? This doesn’t make any sense!”
Jongseong laughs again. And, because he has always been too kind, he makes the biggest mistake of his life so far:
“Jay’s fine,” he says. “You can just talk to me however. I don’t care much about formalities.”
So here’s the thing. The boy—Jake, he learns (well, my parents call me Jaeyun, but everyone else calls me Jake)—doesn’t have a filter. And it’s true that Jay’s never really cared about titles and hierarchy, but he didn’t really mean Jake could just talk to him however. Give an inch, they’ll take a mile, he reminds himself.
It the next five minutes, Jay learns more about Jake than he feels he’s learned about anyone else in his life. The boy just won’t stop talking, even when Jongseong’s responses dim down to distracted hums.
He cuts himself off when Sunghoon comes back, visibly dejected and embarrassed from a new presence in the room. Sunghoon tries to tease Jay about it, but he gives up when he realises Jake only speaks enough Korean to nervously stutter out exemplary Joseon era sentences, and not enough to laugh at his self-proclaimed genius puns.
The office finally quiets down for a few minutes, peaceful save for the printer coughing out a few copies of Sunghoon’s contracts. This must upset Jake, because it isn’t too long before he speaks again—and, this time, Jongseong really wishes he’d never revealed he speaks English at all.
“Did you know you’re, like, really pretty?” he asks. Jay’s heart stills in his chest. He looks up from his emails to find Jake looking at him, biting his bottom lip. “You look like a kitty when you’re focused. It’s so cute.”
In fact, nuke the whole language. Jay splutters, cheeks burning fiercely.
“What? What did he say?” demands Sunghoon.
Jongseong doesn’t answer, intent on ignoring them both and going back to his work. He takes trembling fingers to his keyboard, quietly willing his heart to stop beating so quickly in his chest. But then he hears him: Sim Jaeyun, in a smug little tone, with his archaic, textbook pronunciation.
“Mister Jay is a cat.”
Sunghoon freezes. He looks between Jay and Jake, and then Jay again, and bursts out laughing. Jay’s cheeks have never felt so scalding. He nearly goes blind with shame, until he realises he’s simply started to tear up in embarrassment. Immediately, he focuses on blinking those tears away because the only thing that could make the situation worse would be if he started to cry about it.
Sunghoon, though, seems to find the entire thing hilarious. He’s slapping his thighs, struggling to breathe through loud chortles.
“G—give us a meow, Mister Jay,” he pants in between raucous laughter.
Jay has to mentally remind himself of breathing exercises so he doesn’t throw his keyboard at his head.
“If you don’t shut up right now, Park Sunghoon…” he starts, trying to sound threatening. Unfortunately for him, Park Sunghoon is both shameless and unafraid.
“What—you’re going to bite me? Is kitty going to take out his claws?”
The triangle folds into a smaller triangle. Jay shakily breathes in. Breathes out. Looks at Sunghoon and wants to smash his head in anyway. And then, peace overcomes his body. He’s better than this, he realises. He is better than this little cubicle with the rickety printer and the desk with three legs.
“I’m not helping you on that report,” he announces. “Have fun staying in late.”
Sunghoon stops laughing. In the corner, Jaeyun watches them with a serious expression overwhelming his features, round with youth. He raises a hand to his chin. Runs his fingers over his skin, and then his lips. His gaze is so intensely fixed on Jay that he feels flustered about it, until he remembers it’s probably just an Australian thing. Just when Jay thinks he’ll be left alone, Jake speaks up again.
“Are you guys together?” he asks.
This time, his brain flatlines. His mouth hangs open uselessly, unable to form any words. Jake’s mood seems to sour even further from the lack of response. Sunghoon, on the other hand, glances at them with thinly veiled curiosity, as if nothing else in this office could entertain him more than his coworker getting grilled with unethical questions by some foreign college kid.
“What did he say, Jay-yah?” inquires Sunghoon again.
Jay’s cheeks flush deeper, realising how much worse Sunghoon is making it all appear. He tries to speak and deny it, but his brain refuses to conjure up the words to do so. Visibly, Jaeyun doesn’t care to wait for Jay’s answer. He stares Sunghoon down instead, pointing between them both with an accusative finger.
“Boyfriends?” he says plainly, in Korean.
Jongseong nearly breaks out of his stupor to scold him for the casual tone, out of pure habit, when he witnesses the exact moment Sunghoon understands what he’s being asked.
He chokes, and Jay suspects he bit his tongue in the process, because he does not seem to be having a great time. Then again, perhaps the thought of dating Jay simply disgusts him that much. Jay wouldn’t blame him because he feels somewhat similarly, but it still stings. For people who aren’t Park Sunghoon, Jay is a total catch. He then hits his knee on his desk while executing an obscure manoeuvre. Serves him right.
“Woah—what? Boyfriends? With Jongseong?” Sunghoon shoots in rapid fire, with a slight lisp that confirms he indeed bit his tongue. “That’s so—Ohmygosh—That would never happen. Why would I want to date Jay? Do I look like I want to date Jay? That’s so funny.”
He laughs nervously, looking at Jay like he’s just as helpless in this situation. Jay finally unfreezes and gives him the sweetest smile he can conjure.
“Asshole,” he declares. And, to Jake, he finally replies, in English: “I wouldn’t date a coworker. Especially not Sunghoon. I feel like we’d just end up fighting over a spreadsheet.”
Jaeyun’s mood brightens so fast Jay almost gets flash banged. He straightens his posture, shuffling on his chair like an important politician about to change the world, chin jutting out almost arrogantly.
“I don’t have a job,” he announces with far too much pride.
Jongseong doesn’t have the heart to tell him just how pathetic it sounds it the scope of things.
“Well, aren’t you lucky?” he throws instead, defeated.
Jake smiles, a little like a wolf who just caught the bunny. On his features, it resembles the bunny far more.
“Be luckier if i got your number, though.”
Jay sighs. He’s got nothing against the kid, but that's so far from appropriate Jay can already hear the police sirens. Even if he probably doesn’t mean it like that. He doesn’t k know how to let him down gently, though, and so to soothe his own conscience, he decides he simply doesn’t need to.
“I’m sorry, Jake. I really need to have this done before tonight,” he explains as he pretends to get back to his work. (And Jay is no liar. He will do his work eventually.) “Let me know if you need anything else, yeah?”
He looks at his screen and tries to ignore the boy in the corner of his office, looking just like a stray dog, wet and miserable.
He could swear he hears Jake mumble something that sounds like I need you under his breath, but he ignores that, too.
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Jay doesn’t really think about it for the next few days. In fact, he’s pretty sure he could forget about Jake forever if he weren’t standing outside his office building just that Friday, when Jay gets off work.
“Did you get lost again or are you stalking me?” he asks the boy as he walks up to him.
Jake’s smile is far too shameless when he replies.
“I got you this.”
It’s then Jay notices the frumpy bouquet of roses in Jake’s hand. It looks so out of place like this, held by a boy who probably didn’t even know the difference between a tulip and peony—who’d never had to know the difference because kids his age aren’t meant to offer flowers like this. He presses it to Jay’s hand anyway.
“Stalking, then?”
Jake laughs gleefully. He sounds younger like this, and Jay shuffles uncomfortably.
“I wouldn’t call it stalking,” he denies. “Just...strategic planning.”
Jay chuckles despite himself.
“Alright, then. Do you need me to strategically drive you home?” he asks. “It’s getting late. Wouldn’t want you getting lost after dark.”
Before Jake can answer, one of Jay’s coworkers leaves the building behind them, waving to wish him a good weekend. Jay’s cheeks burn from how ridiculous he feels, in his suit, holding a bouquet of roses given to him by a teenager. Jake clears his throat, stepping from one foot to the other, fingers twisting.
“I—errrr—I was actually hoping for a date,” he says.
Jay winces. His entire face seems intent on burning the skin clean off his skull, and he can only hope he doesn’t look like a red neon light.
The thing is Jay’s never been good at saying no. Sometimes, he accepts project after project from managers and coworkers alike, until it’s Sunghoon who has to take stacks of papers and slam them sternly on their desks, telling them to handle it themselves. Jongseong does not like saying no. He hates disappointing people, especially some kid who looks as nervous as Jake. His throat dries out, as if to prevent him further. His heart hammers against his ribcage, ready to leap at the words he doesn’t want to say. He swallows.
“Listen, Jake,” he stammers. “I’m sorry if—if I gave you the wrong impression. But this is so inappropriate. I’m grateful for the flowers, but I would never go on a date with a kid.”
Jake’s face falls. Jay’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach.
“I’m an adult!” he protests lamely. He doesn’t seem to realise how childish he sounds saying it.
“Jake...”
“I am!” he repeats. His wide, dark eyes shine with what Jay hopes against all odds isn’t tears. He crosses his arms, like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “I’m nineteen. I graduated high school and everything.”
Jay sighs. Somehow, this only sets Jake off further.
“It doesn’t have to be romantic,” he continues, hopeful. “I just...don’t know anyone here.”
Jay wavers. He sounds so miserable, and something in Jay wilts at the thought of him alone so far from home. He remembers himself, two decades earlier, feeling so lost and terrified in this new country. His stomach twists.
“And I barely even speak Korean. I don’t have any friends here, and my girlfriend broke up with me right before I got here, and—”
His stomach growls loudly. Despite himself, Jay laughs.
“And you’re hungry?” he finishes.
Jake’s cheeks turn a furious shade of pink. At the very least, it seems the boy can feel shame.
“Fine,” agrees Jay. “Let’s get you something to eat, and then I’ll drive you home.”
Jake uncrosses his arms, staring at Jay with a parted mouth, as if he can’t believe it. There’s a glint in his eyes Jay doesn’t like, but when he thinks of Jake, alone in some restaurant, struggling to order, he pushes the discomfort deep down, where it can’t ring any alarms.
“Really?” asks Jake in a small, disbelieving voice.
“Really. But don’t get your hopes up. This is purely platonic, alright?”
Jake’s smile is so wide it could eat the rest of his face. Jay is honestly impressed by the sheer size of his mouth.
“Yeah!” he agrees. “I am so not getting my hopes up, bro. My hopes are so down they basically don’t exist. They’re, like, the opposite of hope. I’m in despair!”
He sounds cheerful despite it all. Jay sighs.
On the way to the small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant that Jaeyun had insisted on taking him to, the boy points out an arcade, demanding that they stop there first. Jay reminds him that his stomach keeps growling, after which Jaeyun demands they stop there later instead. So much for being in despair.
And to the kid’s credit, it’s not completely awful. Well, Jongseong feels more like he’s babysitting a nephew or taking a new intern out to their first company dinner than anything else, but still. Jaeyun opens the door for him, and pulls out his chair, and tells him to order what he wants because he’d pay for him. He catches himself giggling despite his best wishes, amused by the boy’s eagerness.
They talk, and Jay finds out that Jaeyun is shockingly rather insightful. If not for his round features and youthful voice, it would be far too easy to forget he’s nearly a decade younger. At the very least, until he breaks the illusion every so often by saying things Jongseong is convinced have never been said before.
(You’ve got crumbs around your mouth, kitty. Like little whiskers!)
Half an hour later, Jaeyun discovers perhaps the biggest machine Jongseong has ever seen in an arcade: covered in straps and bright colours and constantly beeping for attention. It roars these horrible zombie gargles and chimes with unending gunshots. Jake, as expected, is enamoured, and promptly loses six rounds to Jay.
It’s on the seventh round that he spots it. Jay barely has the time to wonder if Jaeyun’s finally rage-quitting before he sees him taking quick strides towards some dinky claw machine.
It quickly becomes apparent to Jongseong that the boy wants some fuzzy black ball of fur. He can’t see what seems to be so charming about it, but Jaeyun fits coin after coin into the slot, until Jay estimates he must have paid over 45000 won for that tiny little plushie.
Still, Jake hands it to him with the biggest smile. Jay takes it and looks down. It’s a hideous thing, with crooked eyes and sharp felt ears. It’s soft, though, but it’s almost impossible to make out what exactly it’s supposed to be.
“Isn’t it so cute?” Jaeyun asks, glowing.
Jay swallows, looking at its gaping mouth and distinct lack of nose. He hums.
His lack of enthusiasm doesn’t seem to dampen Jake’s good mood at all. Even as the car rolls into his street, he’s still as animated as ever, right up to the moment Jay parks his car right in front of an apartment building that’s frankly seen better days—he could only hope. Jongseong looks at the apartment building and then at Jake’s round, innocent face, and then back to the building again.
He clears his throat. “It’s getting dark. I’ll walk you to your door.”
He may as well have told Jake he won the lottery, judging from his reaction to the news. He practically skips all the way up the stairs to his unit, as if nothing were quite so joyful as an old salaryman following him like a bodyguard.
“Do you want to come inside?” Jaeyun asks when they reach the top. “Just for a bit.”
And Jongseong goes to refuse, because he’s a gentleman and maybe a little because the boy makes his skin crawl with unease every time he looks at him like he’s more than a cubicle slave. He goes to refuse except there’s suddenly a loud noise, like someone hitting a large pipe against a wall or a dumpster. Some yelling—words Jongseong can’t make out but spell nothing good, and then Jaeyun’s practically clawing at his arm, pulling him inside and shutting the door behind him.
“Wha—”
Jaeyun shushes him. “Shit! They’re back!”
His voice is a whisper and although Jay isn’t sure why, he whispers back, blood freezing in his veins as the noises get closer and closer.
“Who’s back?” he asks.
Jaeyun’s apartment is dark, but he can see some light seeping in from the streets through the window just a few feet away. It’s not super big, and it’s right over his pull-out couch that’s visibly being used as a bed because the whole place is too tiny for much else. He walks towards it to peek outside, flinching away when there’s a loud rattle seemingly right outside the door.
“Please tell me you didn’t get involved in a cult or something,” mumbles Jay, pulling the curtains—which look like they could belong in his grandma’s house—closed as well as he can.
Jaeyun whimpers.
“No! Shit, it’s—I don’t know. I don’t think they’re targeting me. They’re just—around.”
Right as he finishes speaking, there are multiple bangs on his door. Loud. Urgent. Too much like someone coming to collect money or a deserter and not enough like someone who’s just around.
Something in Jongseong’s chest rises to his throat—crams itself right behind where his adam’s apple should be and muffles his voice behind layers of fear. It follows the rabbiting rhythm of his heartbeat as it expands until he isn’t sure he can talk at all.
There’s a moment of silence before Jaeyun sighs.
“I think they’re gone,” the boy says.
Jongseong croaks in a voice that is foreign even to him: “Stay inside! I’ll look.”
(And that’s a lie. It isn’t so foreign as it is too much like the tone he swore he’d never use again. That high-pitched squeal that reminds him of having to wear skirts and never getting the haircut he actually wanted.)
(Jaeyun will not notice, he tells himself. Jaeyun will not notice. He will not notice.)
He’s walking towards the door when trembling hands wrap around his arm, tugging him back. He turns to see Jaeyun looking at him like a scared puppy, fat bottom lip between his teeth.
“Don’t leave me alone in here,” he pleads.
“No—no, I’ll just go check and I’ll be right back,” he assures the boy. That doesn’t seem to satisfy Jaeyun at all, because his expression contorts into one Jongseong has never seen before.
And then he pulls on his arm—pulls him down, down—and then Jayun’s lips are on his; huge and warm and hungry. He’s eager in ways men Jongseong’s age have so long forgotten to be. Overwhelmed and breathless, he only realises what exactly Jake is doing when he falls onto the mattress.
“W-wait,” he gasps, trying to push the boy back weakly. Jaeyun does not wait. He tangles his fingers with Jongseong’s, pinning his hands to the sheets, and kisses him again, so intensely Jay’s mind goes almost entirely blank for the next few minutes.
His spine, he realises, is just as weak as the rest of his body. Guilt crawls around under his skin. Makes itself at home between in every part of his body he didn’t know existed. It’s the only thing reminding him that, even though Jaeyun’s pushing him down and taking, Jongseong’s still the one tainting him. In a few years, when Jake was old enough to understand, it would no longer matter that he’d wanted it then.
Jongseong bites down on the boy’s tongue, just enough to have him flinch away. When he looks down at Jay, his eyes are shiny and unfocused, but he can still make out annoyance in them. Spoiled little brat, he thinks.
“This is so inappropriate, Jaeyun.”
(His voice betrays him once more. It cracks in ways it hasn’t cracked since he’d become a man. He convinces himself he sounds authoritative nonetheless.)
(Jaeyun giggles. So much for convincing himself.)
“But you haven’t said you don’t want it,” he says, before he leans back in. He misses his lips, though, and Jongseong tells himself that he’ll listen to him. What he feels in the pit of his stomach at the thought is, of course, not disappointment. But Jaeyun’s lips press against his jawline instead, into a kiss that’s almost tender—almost loving. And then, down his neck, until he seemingly feels satisfied with himself and lick a fat, disgusting stripe along Jay’s flushed skin.
The only reason Jongseong moans is because his heart is beating against his throat and the blood flow makes him more sensitive than usual.
But Jaeyun hears it. He hears it, and Jongseong suspects he wants more, from the way he immediately starts kissing and biting all over his neck and shoulders. He’s gross and crude, in the way only boys are, and Jongseong can’t help but feel like a puppy’s especially beloved bone.
He goes to talk. To deny Jake’s claim. Tell him he doesn’t want it, even as his heart hammers against his ribs and his underwear starts sticking to his cunt. But Jaeyun must sense something, because he whines, loudly, as if nothing frustrated him more than Jongseong in that instant. He pulls away from Jay’s wet, mauled neck to look down at him with tears in his eyes.
“C’mon,” he pleads. “I don’t want to spend the night alone with—with those people outside.”
Jongseong feels his spine grow into his body, for once, just to remind him that Jake is only a boy, alone, in a foreign country with some kind of gang knocking on his door with, most likely, baseball bats.
“You don’t have to do this,” Jongseong says. “I could just stay until we know they’re gone. Why do you—”
Jaeyun presses his crotch against his thigh, then, and Jongseong realises he’s already hard. His breath catches in his throat and his cunt—his dumb fucking cunt—leaks at the thought that all it had taken for him to get hard was one messy kiss.
“If you stay, I’m fucking you,” Jake says, without an ounce of shame. Like it’s a fact they’re both aware of, and not some arbitrary conclusion he’d come to within the past thirty seconds. His skin burns.
“And if I leave?” he challenges. Jaeyun squeezes his hands and, without a second of hesitation, he sucks a bruise into the skin of Jongseong’s neck, like a brand.
“Please don’t leave,” is all he says. But it’s enough for Jay to understand. Even Jake must know that those people aren’t just around. Leaving now would mean serving the boy up to the wolves on a silver platter.
And, thinks Jongseong, isn’t he an adult anyway? He’s twenty in Korean age. That’s enough. He’s young, sure, but it’s not like he can’t choose for himself. It’s not like it’s illegal.
Which he’s sure comes from his brain, and not his hot, throbbing pussy.
Jaeyun has busied himself with painting bruises and teeth marks over the canvas of Jongseong’s neck, tickling his jaw with his untamed hair, and it’s taking everything Jay has to grasp his thoughts from between the haze of cotton and mist filling his mind.
“Do—do you even have condoms?” he asks. The smile he feels against his neck—well. He pretends it doesn’t exist.
Jake finally unsticks himself from Jay’s body with an expression so cocky Jongseong thinks he might have made a mistake. But his hands are finally free, and he rolls his sore wrists as Jake picks up a plastic bag from somewhere on the floor, right next to the couch. He tosses it at him and, while Jay rummages through it to find multiple boxes of condoms and packets of lube, he tugs his shirt off and starts undoing his pants.
The problem comes when said pants are off, and Jongseong is face to face with perhaps the biggest cock he’s ever seen, standing proudly from between the boy’s skinny thighs. Jongseong looks down at the boxes of condoms in the bag, and then back at Jaeyun, and then back at the condoms. He hasn’t done geometry in a while, but even he can tell there’s no way any of them would fit. He sighs and tosses the bag back to the floor. Jaeyun, who’s currently closing in on him, looks at him like he isn’t sure if he should be confused, devastated or happy.
“Just pull out before you come,” says Jongseong, defeated, just as Jaeyun starts clawing at his pants to pull them off.
“What about the lu—”
He cuts himself off when, instead of the dick he must have been expecting, he’s met with Jay’s leaking cunt. He seems stunned, for a second, and Jay presses his thighs together, feeling self-conscious. Then, Jake’s eyes get impossibly darker and, without a word, he spreads Jongseong’s legs forcefully with one strong hand, while the other presses into his lips, pushing his underwear into his folds.
“Fuck!” He breathes in shakily, looking hypnotised by the sight of his fingers against damp, sticky fabric. “You’re such a tease. Wearing this to work like a fucking slut. Were you hoping to get fucked, huh?”
Jongseong’s cheeks burn fiercely and his neck prickles with shame. He feels himself leak, even as a protest forms on his tongue. He’s wearing boxers that he’s certain he’d gotten in a three-pack deal from the corner store.
When Jaeyun tires of playing with them, he pulls them off, leaving Jongseong bare and exposed. He tries to close his legs once more, but Jake stops him with a grunt, forcing them even wider apart. Then, he distracts him with a kiss, stealing every thought and bit of air Jongseong had managed to gather as he slides a finger between his folds, coating it in his own wetness before pushing the tip into his pussy. It immediately clamps down around his finger.
Jongseong would be embarrassed by the realisation of how long it’d been since anyone had even given him the light of the day like this if Jake wasn’t busy swallowing each of his breaths.
“You’re so tight for your age,” pants Jaeyun into his mouth. Jongseong doesn’t get to reply because the boy goes right back to devouring him alive. Still, he feels the sting, and the shame that comes with the reminder that anyone could see how much older he is.
But Jaeyun crams a second finger into his aching cunt, and they’re much longer than his own. They reach deeper than he ever could—he’d always been so sure fingers never did much for him until now, with Jaeyun’s long, knobby fingers spreading him open. And then he moves. Curls them inwards like he knows exactly what he’s looking for.
He does, Jongseong realises, when he starts pressing into a spot that has him moaning into his mouth. His mind goes unbearably blank. When he manages to focus again, it’s to the feeling of Jaeyun’s thumb pressing into his clit.
“It’s so puffy,” comments Jaeyun, like there’s genuinely nothing else that would interest him more in that moment. “Looks like a cute, tiny little dick.”
And Jongseong is too embarrassed to admit that it is his dick—that he was told hormones would eventually make it bigger, but he’d simply never grown much. Instead, a noise he’s ashamed to admit comes from him escapes his mouth, and his body trembles all over, muscles tense from the effort of letting someone do with him as they please.
He barely even notices when Jaeyun slips a third finger into his cunt, too intoxicated by the feeling of something pressing in that spot deep inside him and rubbing around his sensitive clit to pay attention to much else. He can feel himself practically drooling—it’s then he realises his body is entirely out of his control and under Jaeyun’s.
“Just—just fuck me already!” he says. It’s supposed to be a demand. It’s supposed to be him, an elder, regaining control over his arrogant junior. It’s supposed to put an end to the teasing.
He sounds like a desperate whore. Jaeyun tells him as much, in about twice as many words.
His skin burns, like it’s ready to combust and leave the rest of his body to deal with the situation he’s put himself in. He can feel his heart beating under Jaeyun’s touch, and it’s unfortunate that his hands are in places his heart has no business being in.
Needless to say, Jaeyun does not listen.
If anything, he gets more vigorous—his fingers in all the places Jongseong’s body seems to crave, as if he knew his body more than Jay himself did.
“You should see yourself, kitty,” says Jake, with about as much shame as he’s come to expect from the boy. “Your greedy little pussy’s already struggling around my fingers. How are you even gonna take my cock?”
But he mustn’t want an answer that much, because he leans down to lick Jay’s lips open. Slide his tongue inside his mouth and kiss him until he’s light-headed. He can feel himself coming on three measly fingers—clenching and trembling and whining in ways that sound nothing like him.
And then the fingers are out, and there’s something huge sliding in between his folds, gathering his essence and pressing into his quivering hole. And then Jaeyun’s still sticky fingers are sliding up his skin. Up his chest, until they find his nipples and spread his own wetness around them.
“Don’t—ah!—don’t do that,” he says, panting into plump lips.
“Do what?” asks Jaeyun.
And Jongseong starts to suspect he truly does not want input from him when he opens his mouth to reply, and Jake begins thrusting into his cunt. Forcing it wide open—wider than it has ever been before. And then he stills, like there’s nothing else he’d rather do than have Jay warm his cock forever. Perhaps out of pettiness, Jongseong wraps his arms around Jake’s neck, pulling on the longer strands of hair in the back.
He plays with his chest like it would actually do something. Unfortunately for Jongseong, it seems he’s right, too. He’s starting to learn things about his body he could have gone far longer without.
“Awww, your nipples are getting all stiff when I’ve barely even touched them, kitty,” coos Jaeyun. “Your little tits are so slutty.”
It occurs to him then how filthy Jake’s mouth is, even for his age. He wonders where he’d even learned to speak like that. Maybe everyone in Australia is just born a freak. He shivers at the thought.
(Out of horror, naturally. Entirely unrelated to Jaeyun’s big cock stuffing him so full he can barely think.)
“I do not have tits!” he insists.
Jake looks at him like one looks at the demented man on line 1. “Sure you don’t, kitty.”
But from the way he cups the flesh, right over his scars, and pushes the slight fat there together to create a cleavage, Jay can tell exactly what he’s thinking. He flushes.
“And quit calling me kitty!” he hisses, in an attempt to regain some dignity.
Jake laughs. “But, kitty, you look just like one! Tiny little kitty in heat.”
There are so many things Jongseong disagrees with in this statement he isn’t sure where to start. He wants to reply—tell him he’s not in heat, especially when Jaeyun was the one to start this entire thing to begin with. But then Jaeyun starts moving inside him, like he’d only been waiting so he could torture Jongseong a little longer. It’s too big, Jay realises. Jake’s dick is way too big for him, even if he’s being careful, and he already knows his pussy’s going to be gaping afterwards. The boy moves slowly, but that doesn’t stop him from whimpering from the stretch. His fingernails dig in Jaeyun’s shoulders. He forgets what he was going to say.
“C’mon, kitty. Purr for daddy, yeah?”
Right.
“Oh my God,” he moans, horrified. Jake isn’t deterred in the least, and, in fact, thrusts into him again.
“Well, daddy’s enough. You don’t have to use the Lord’s name for me—I mean, you can call me Father if you’re into that, but—”
Jongseong digs his nails into Jake’s back hard enough to ensure it’s painful and is disappointed to discover that only seems to excite him more.
“Oh my God,” he repeats, far more horrified than he’d been moments ago. “Just shut up and fuck me before I gag you.”
“You’ll come around,” Jaeyun concludes.
He should have left. He should have left, door-banging gangsters or not. Jongseong has never hated himself so much as he does right now, with the knowledge that he’s letting a skinny teenager who calls himself daddy fuck him. He doesn’t know if he should laugh in his face or cry, considering he’s the one who let it happen. He’s not sure he’ll ever live this down.
At least, his mind tells him, he would never see Jake again. Summer’s almost over, and he’d go back to right where he came from, which Jongseong suspects is some part of Hell, and no one would ever know.
No one would ever know.
Jake spreads his legs wider, pressing them as far down as they can go, even as Jay hisses from the stretch. He tells himself he needs to sign up for a yoga class later, only to immediately forget about it when he realises that Jaeyun—that greedy fuck—is only doing it so he can get even deeper in his guts. So he can make Jay take him down the very last inch, with absolutely no consideration for his already overstuffed cunt.
“Ngh—you—! Don’t fucking—”
Jake ignores him entirely, too focused on fucking into him wildly now that nothing is stopping him. The noises their bodies are making are obscene and, for a moment, Jay worries that the people outside might hear them. His skin feels almost feverish to the touch, now, and he can’t tell if it’s from the shame of what he’s doing or from how hot he feels under Jaeyun’s touch. Every part of them is damp and slick. His hands slip down Jake’s back, leaving trails of raised red before he notices and grips his skin harder, trying to anchor himself in Jake’s body if nothing else.
All at once, Jake seems to realise he would like it much better if he bent Jay in some impossible position, and so he starts pushing his knees back until they’re nearly level with his head. When Jay winces, he lays a kiss to his forehead as if that makes it any better. Jongseong can feel tears well up in his eyes, both from the stretch of being bent like some sex doll and the stretch of being fucked like one, but he refuses to cry. He holds them back as well as he can, even when he realises Jake’s weight ensures he’s thrusting into him much harder than before. His ass stings from each impact, and now he’s certain he needs to take yoga classes, because his thighs burn like he’s just been running for an hour.
“You’re so—hmm—good,” praises Jaeyun, somewhat deliriously. “Gonna look so pretty with my cum leaking out your cunt.”
Jongseong’s brain is very busy notifying him that he’s currently drooling, and not at all busy paying attention to whatever Jake’s saying, so it takes him a little too long to realise the implications here. It’s not until Jaeyun’s thrusts start getting short and erratic and he makes no effort to stop fucking Jongseong’s pussy at all that an alarm rings through his hazy mind.
“What? No—wait! You—ah!—you promised you’d pull out!”
The boy only grunts in response. He doesn’t slow down, though. Jongseong’s blood freezes in his veins, his body icy even under the sweat and Jake’s searing touch. His heart skips a beat, and then a second, and then he loses count. Something wet hits his cheeks and he only notices it’s his own tears finally leaking when Jaeyun buries his face in the crook of his shoulder and the sensation doesn’t stop.
“Can’t wait to—to see you round with my kids,” Jaeyun says, like it’s enticing and not terrifying.
Jongseong’s stomach fills with acid that rises, rises, rises until it swallows his heart and blocks his throat. His heartbeat tries its best to work through it all, but it sounds muffled and dull all the same. He sniffles, trying to stop the tears from flowing. Weakly, he pushes against Jake’s chest with arms that don’t feel like they belong to him. It doesn’t do much.
Jaeyun’s seed filling him feels like a forest catching on fire. He thinks he can feel it burning, forcing a path to his womb, even if he knows it’s in his mind. His mind does not know this, and he hears alarms ring again, telling him his life is fucking over. He would get pregnant from some foreign teenage bum and he would be huge and Park Sunghoon would never let him live it down and he’d lose his job.
He sniffles again as Jaeyun pulls out with a satisfied sigh. He’d been right about his cunt being left gaping, which only makes the situation so much worse, because he can feel it leaking out shamelessly.
“You’re such a bastard,” he croaks. He isn’t sure where Jake could have even learned this word, but he seems to understand it just fine because he giggles.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be dramatic! Here, I’ll get it out for you.”
The last thing Jongseong feels when he sees Jaeyun’s face disappear between his thighs is the impending sense of doom that lets him know he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life.
zᶻ
૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ
jungwonnie
[27/07;13 :04]
where did u go
jungwonnie
[27/07;13 :07]
???????
[27/07;15 :49]
I just met the love of my life
jungwonnie
[27/07;16 :01]
WHERE EVEN ARE U???
jungwonnie
[27/07;16 :03]
I TOLD U TO WAIT FOR ME
jungwonnie
[27/07;16 :03]
NOW I BOUGHT 2 UMBRELLAS FOR NOTHING
[27/07;16 :07]
How do I make him love me
[27/07;16 :08]
I tried to flirt with him and I don’t think it worked
jungwonnie
[27/07;16 :09]
damn you really dgaf that i just spent 3 hours looking for u
[27/07;16 :09]
Jungwon.
[27/07;16 :09]
Not now.
[27/07;16 :09]
This is important.
[27/07;16 :10]
I need him to fall in love with me before that pest he shares a cubicle with grows balls
jungwonnie
[27/07;16 :11]
…cubicle?
jungwonnie
[27/07;16 :11]
how old are we talking?
jungwonnie
[27/07;16 :11]
didnt ur gf literally dump u last week?
[27/07;16 :11]
Jungwon.
[27/07;16 :12]
Focus.
jungwonnie
[27/07;16 :12]
has he done his military service??? how old are we talking???
[27/07;16 :12]
Wait I forgot about that that’s so hot
jungwonnie
[27/07;16 :13]
wow…U focus
[27/07;16 :13]
So?
jungwonnie
[27/07;16 :14]
idk older men like when ur vulnerable
jungwonnie
[27/07;16 :15]
just make sure u look pitiful and pathetic
[27/07;16 :16]
And if that doesn’t work?
jungwonnie
[27/07;16 :16]
just leave it to me :)
jungwonnie
[05/08;23 :56]
are u done yet
jungwonnie
[05/08;23 :56]
my arm hurts and i think one of ur neighbours calling the police on me