Granite

She scoffed, rolling her head back with a whine. “But, I don’t wanna-”

“June,” you said, eyes going slightly wide. “I called Skye’s mom. You know I did, I talk to her everyday. I’m sorry they’re traveling,” you softened, giving her a gentle shake, snaking an arm around her shoulder, leading her into the living room where noise echoed. “It’s unpredictable for them, with what Skye’s dad does, they’re always up and around.”

Huffing, she folded her arms over her jacket. “I wish we could be up and around.”

A head popped up from behind the sofa, one smiling, one eyeing you with caution. He had one sneaker in his hand and a three-year olds foot in the other. The dusty brown hair on his head, grown longer on the top, cut shorter on the sides, had been pushed back off of his forehead, his skin aglow with the same get-the-kids-out-of-the-house sweat that yours was. 

“Ready to go?” he asked June, who shrugged. “You look awesome, Rumi.” Glancing down at her to watch her blush and hide her smile, you patted her on the back and joined Yunho on the floor in front of the couch. He let you take the sneaker from him, muttering, “Hey, I was doing that.”

Giving him a look, you smirked. “You handed it to me.”

Leaning into you, he narrowed his eyes. “You took it from me.”

Jutting your chin forward, slipping the shoe onto Yuri’s foot in seconds, you kissed Yunho at the same time. Scooping her up in your arms, you stood up and looked down at him, frozen, lips still pursed, gazing up at you. 

“Stop,” you giggled, taking Yuri dressed as a puppy around to the front door where June waited, tapping at the cell phone. Dropping her sister off at her side, you pressed a finger to the top of the phone and pushed it away from her face gently. Big, brown eyes looked at you. “You can take pictures, you can text Skye, you can call me and Dad. No Instagram, no TikTok, no Google Translate.”

“No Google-”

“No,” you laughed, fixing the ears on top of Yuri’s head, “Miss Murphy on the corner thinks you’re of French descent, June.” She giggled, as did you. “I appreciate you learning other languages, but stop confusing the elderly, please. I also need your eyes on your brother and sister. We’re letting you go alone like you asked.” 

Every neighbor had been notified a week ago that June would be on her own with the two littles.

She didn’t know that, though.

Smiling at her, you swiped a thumb under her eye to fix the eyeshadow fallout. “You’ve got a kickass costume, kid.”

“Bitchin’,” she said with a nod, and you grinned.

“Totally bitchin’,” you whispered.

Turning into the house to search for Aden, your six year old, the last of your crew to find, you left June and Yuri by the door, June setting them up to take a selfie on the cell phone you were giving her for the night. Peering into the living room, empty. The kitchen, empty. The bathroom on the first floor, empty. Footsteps pounded on the floor above you, racing for the stairsteps.

You braced yourself.

Standing at the end of the hall, eyes pointed at the steps, Yunho came down first, absolutely losing his mind. With a hand pressed to his mouth to hide this laughter, his curled brows gave him away.

“You’re gonna freak out,” he mumbled to you, warning you, “Please, don’t freak out, he’s so excited. I’ll deal with his shower when he gets home, I promise.”

Typical Yunho and Aden. Keeping things a secret from you and the girls until it happened. He could see it in your eyes, the disappointment that always leaned more towards curiosity. 

“Is he not an Oompa Loompa, Yo, he’s been begging for weeks,” you whispered. “He adores that old movie, I had those white overalls specially made for him.”

Yunho slid his hands over his front and bobbed his head. “Oh, he’s an Oompa Loompa.”

Your six year olds voice poured down the stairs with every step he took, singing. “Who can take a sunrise, sprinkle it with dew,” his little kid, kind of alright pitch made you smile. Yunho bit down on his lip and whirled around. “Cover it with chocolate and a miracle or two?” 

Giving each other a glance, you both said, “The Candy Man?”

Aden thundered down the rest of the stairs and jumped off the bottom one, bumping into the wall on his way down. “Oh, the Candy Man can!” He bounced on two feet and threw his arms in the air, expecting grand applause. 

He got it from his father, but you smacked a hand over your mouth.

What was supposed to be white overalls, a striped shirt and green hairspray had turned into orange body paint everywhere and a fluffy green wig. At least the overalls were clean.

Aden squinted his eyes at you. Dropping his pose, he marched by you like the Oompa Loompas in the movie, with his chin held high and his knees bouncing every so often. 

“You would’ve said no,” he whispered as he passed by you. He joined his sisters at the door, the girls screaming their excitement. 

Turning to Yunho, you smacked him on the chest and laughed aloud. “Are you kidding me? That’s hysterical!”

Smiling at you, it not reaching his eyes, he asked, “Would you have said no?”

“Probably,” you said immediately, and he laughed. “He’s gonna be stained orange for school tomorrow, but whatever, you know what he’ll say if we tell him that.”

“That’s theatre, baby,” you both said at the same time, falling toward one another in a fit of giggles. 

Slinging your arms around his neck, you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips, one slower this time. “Thanks for getting him ready,” you whispered, nuzzling your noses together, “He loves his daddy.”

Leaning in to kiss you again, you pulled away before he could catch your lips. Leaving him with a groan in his chest, he followed you toward the kids at the front of the house, snapping pictures of the three of them posing together. 

“You can go around as many times as you want, okay,” you said, sliding your phone in your sweatshirt pocket, reaching down to straighten Aden’s wig. “I’m obsessed, Mr. Wonka,” you said, and he smiled, missing one of his front teeth and another on the bottom. “You will be orange tomorrow though, you know that?”

Aden relaxed his face and winked. “That’s theatre, baby.”

You heard Yunho laugh behind you. Yuri teetered around her brother and stomped up to her father, holding her arms up. Scooping her up, popping a kiss on her cheek, he looked at you and softened his brows. Tilting his chin, asking you a question you couldn’t hear, you watched as his eyes peeked at Yuri, then back at you. 

“Puppy twins,” you cooed, and turned to June, hearing Yunho groan to himself again. “What happens if you get lost?”

June, clutching her pillowcase that would come back full of sweets, said, “I call you.”

Yunho set Yuri down and followed behind her as she wobbled toward Aden, showing off how their plastic pumpkins matched. “What do you do if you feel unsafe?”

June nodded. “I go to Miss Murphy’s house, or Miss Rin’s.”

“Good job, June-bug,” Yunho said softly, wrapping an arm around your back. Looking up at him, he returned your small smile. “Have fun,” he said, moving to push the front door open for the kids, June taking Yuri by the hand, Aden bouncing out of it, singing the Oompa Loompa song, “Be careful, call us if you need us, you know where to go.”

Tiptoeing behind them, giving Yuri a teeny wave as she looked back at you with a grin on her cheeks, her hand wrapped around June’s thumb, you pressed yourself up against the doorway and watched them bound down the driveway in the glow of the setting sun.

The moment they disappeared around the bushes of the neighbors house, Yunho let the door swing shut and engulfed you in his arms, nearly taking you out, the titan swallowing you whole. Smacking kisses to one cheek and over your nose to the other cheek, you threw your hands at his chest, an attempt to swat him away. 

“Enough,” you giggled, stumbling backward into the house with him, “Enough!”

“No,” he groaned, taking his hands to your chin, tilting you back. He kissed you, and said, “You’ve been ignoring me for two days, I can’t stand it.” 

Wrapping your arms around his back, holding onto your wrists, you furrowed your brows. “Ignoring you? What are you talking about?”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, two nights ago when we made dinner you barely looked at me.”

“I was helping Aden with his math homework at the same time, my mind was split,” you shrugged.

Pushing you up against the island counter in the kitchen, he placed his hands on the marble and tilted his head, his gaze lowering to your lips. “Last night you didn’t sit next to me while we watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.”

Sighing, you said, “The girls wanted to sit with me, they like it when we sing the songs together, you know Yuri and her toot sweets.”

Yunho tightened his brow and glanced behind you. “I gotta figure out a way to make them…”

“Well,” you smiled up at him and his adamance for pleasing his children, “You know who can?”

His eyes flickered to yours. “Who?”

Rising to your tiptoes, you kissed him and whispered, “The Candy Man can…”

Masking his growing smile with some sort of frustrated groan, he grabbed onto your waist and lifted you up onto the counter, wedging himself between your knees. Hands smoothing over your thighs, he shook his head. “Willy Wonka doesn’t turn me on.”

Tightening your arms around his neck, pressing your chest to his, you said, “The one with Johnny Depp does.”

He blew a raspberry on his lips. “And that’s why we never watch it.”

“Because of that time Mingi dressed up like him-”

“Stop!” 

“I’m sorry,” you laughed, giving him a soft kiss, hands massaging into his shoulders. “I’m also sorry I’ve been avoiding you…”

He threw his head backward and cackled loud. “I knew it!” Dropping your head to his chest, you kicked your feet and whined. “Look at me,” he said after a breath, “Please.” Lifting your head reluctantly, bottom lip sticking out, he laughed at it and pushed it in with his thumb. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “It’s a lot, I know.” 

“It’s just… June starts high school next year, she’s going to be fourteen in March. Aden’s in full blown elementary now, and next year Yuri moves up to his school with him.”

He listened to you, nodding along, a gentle smile on his lips.

“Everyone will be in school full time, they’re getting older, they’re going to have more things going on, June’s dance classes are going to get serious, Aden will be able to audition for that camp once he’s seven, Yuri will want to do god knows what and that’ll drain our bank accounts dry…” Glancing down between your bodies, you slid a hand over his chest and let the beating of his heart ease yours. “And, we’ll be here all alone.”

Releasing a breath, he leaned into you and pressed his lips to your cheek.

“With nothing to do but work,” you said, rocking with the pressure of his kisses, “And clean. And there’ll be a teenager. And our youngest will be old.” He trailed his lips down your neck, his speed slowing, his lips parting. Sighing, your eyes fluttered shut. “And, we want four.”

His warm breath tickled your skin, goosebumps erupting down your arms, your back. Arching into him, his touch, his delicious kisses, a soft sound came out with your breath, and he smiled. “Let’s do it then,” he whispered.

Tangling your fingers in the hair that hung at the nape of his neck, you sucked in a gust of air and tried to shake your head.

Yunho nipped at your neck, he kissed up your jaw, he planted a heavy wet kiss to your lips and groaned, palming at your hips, fingers pressing into your thighs. “Yes,” he whispered, the sound muffled by your lips, his tongue. You rolled your hips against him, both of you moaning at the friction.

Through shared air you breathed, “I need you.”

Licking his tongue over yours, he sighed. “I miss you.”

“Been too long.”

He nipped at your bottom lip, “Let me fuck you.”

Clawing at his shirt, you sighed, “Give me a baby.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, head tipping backward, new territory for your teeth to devour, “You mean it?”

Tongue dragging over his throat, you palmed his cheeks and looked into his caramel sweet eyes. “I mean it.” Melting into you, he swallowed you with a kiss, hands rushing to pull at the fabric hugging your hips, hugging your thighs, working them down. Pulling him away by his jaw, lips parting with an obscene smack, you laughed, your surprise evident. “Here?”

Smirking, he lowered his brows and eyed you like you were insane. “Here.”

Helping him work you out of your yoga pants, you lifted yourself off the counter quickly just to pop back down on the cool marble with a gasp. “Like we’re twenty-two,” you teased. 

Gripping onto your thighs, long fingers digging into your curves, pushing them apart, he caught your lips in a slow kiss, and before he dropped to his knees he muttered, “We were kinkier than this at twenty-two, baby.”

Lacing your fingers in his hair, giving his thick strands a tug, you tipped your head back as his hot breath fawned over your core, every muscle in your body relaxing, responding to him, his touch, his energy. “The couch… fuck,” he spread you open with his thumbs, tongue delicately dragging straight up your middle, “In your living room.”

He breathed through a laugh against you, the vibrations shooting up through your center. “Couldn’t explain that to my mom.”

“You made a mess,” you sighed, eyes wrenching shut, grinding against his tongue.

His hands wrapped around the underside of your hips, fingers pressing into your thighs, pulling you closer to him, on the edge of the marble. “You made the mess,” he purred, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking harshly before looking up at you, “I’ll never fucking forget that,” he mumbled.

“We can’t,” you giggled, looking down at him and his flushed cheeks, “That’s how we got June.” 

Smoothing his hands over your skin, relishing in how you clung onto him, he dipped his nose into your center and smized at how you shuddered. “Your dad hated me,” he whispered.

Lungs full of air, you wiggled your hips and shook your head with a breathless whisper, “Wonder why.” Yunho’s eyes softened almost enough to set you off, tears buried somewhere he had no problem pulling them out of. “Not the time for a history lesson,” you tried to laugh, pulling at his hair.

Pursing his lips, blowing a stream of cool air over your heat, admiring how you shook once more, he whispered, “Wanna cum?”

“With you.”

He huffed, shifting on his knees, propping himself up a little higher. His hands escaped your thighs, disappearing between you. “We’ve tried that before.”

“Doesn’t work,” you whispered, tugging him closer.

Tongue dragging over your center, he hummed, two fingers slipping into you, curving just right. “Doesn’t work,” he muttered, eyes pointing up toward you, “Someone’s too fuckin’ easy.”

With a harsh tug of his hair, you almost splayed yourself back across the counter. “Am… not,” you gasped with little self control, your body spreading open for him, reaching for him. 

Your body rocking once more, he sprung from his knees and wrapped an arm around your back, tangling his fingers in your hair, yanking your head backward. Fingers deep inside of you, curving upward with every sticky wet thrust, his thumb pressed to your clit, tight neat circles rendering your brain thoughtless.

Erasing the space between you, he caught your parted lips in a kiss. “Are too,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes locked on yours, on your lips, on how your brows twisted with euphoria. “And you like it,” he breathed, the pace of his fingers pushing into you growing faster as your grip on him grew tighter. “Or, do I just know how to work you… Every right way to touch you, to make you feel good, to make you… sound like this.”

Clamping your jaw shut, pushing air through your nose, you popped your eyes open wide, not even realizing how loud you already were.

Yunho pursed his lips, clicking his tongue, his brows flipping over. “No, baby, keep going,” he whispered with a twist of his fingers, his tongue lobbing out with how you arched into him, “Sound so pretty, let me hear you, haven’t heard you in so long, tell me how good you feel…”

“So good,” you whined, head lulling backward into his hand, “So good… But-”

He pointed his brows, watching your eyes flutter shut. “But, what?”

Grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, the fabric bunching up, wrinkling in your sweaty palms, you whispered, “Want you, inside, want you.”

Smirking, he shook his head once, muttering, “Such a cockslut.”

You whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders. “For you. For you.”

Letting go of your hair, he slid his arm around your neck completely, dropping you down into the nook of his elbow. Curving his hand around, he grabbed onto your throat and leaned over you, resting his elbow on the marble, trapping you on top of the counter. 

“So I’m right then,” he laughed, eyes narrowing, focused on your pleasure entirely, “You’re easy… For me. Can make you cum as many times as I want, and you’ll let me. Look at where you’re letting me have you, in the middle of the kitchen, door unlocked, windows open. What happens when the doorbell rings, huh?”

You shook your head, or tried to in his grip. 

His smirk grew, the snap of his fingers faster, and faster. He could feel it with how you tried to clamp yourself around him, muscles tightening, your walls fluttering around his fingers. Broken obscenities filled the air, the choked out moans coming out of you something unfamiliar as of late, the sound alone spurring you on, the pressure building in your center.

“Yunho,” you gasped, and his lips curled, his forehead resting to yours.

His fingers loosened around your throat as he whispered, “I know, baby.” Curling his fingers one more time, you thrashed with a cry. Screwing up his brows, he moaned, “Oh, I know. Take it. Let me give it to you, please. Let me make you cum, I want it. Doing so good for me, fuck. Cum for me and I promise I’ll fill you up, I promise, please.”

Vision searing white, arching into him, feeling him loosen his grip on you to allow you to cling to him freely, pulling him into you like his presence alone pushed you over the edge, your mouth dropped open in silence. Yunho’s groan slid down your throat, his lips pushed wet kisses to your cheek, he smiled as you trembled beneath him.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, slipping his fingers out of you slowly. Barely giving you time to catch your breath, he had his arms around your waist, pulling you off the counter. Lips locking, he stumbled for the couch and flopped down, straddling you across his waist.

Fingers digging into his hair that had gone frizzy, you let out a soft whimper and shook your head. “I can’t,” you whispered, deadweight on top of him, the muscles in your hips, your thighs, done for. 

Nipping at your lips, catching them with a kiss, he pushed his pants off himself and growled, “You don’t have to.” Taking you by the hips, he lifted you up and pushed himself inside of you, letting you go, allowing you to sink down onto his hips at your own pace. 

The stretch of him, overwhelming.

Air pushing out of your lungs, you curled both arms around his neck and pressed your nose to his cheek. Squeezing him tight, he grabbed onto your hips and rocked you.

“Deep breath,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek. He waited until you listened, a shaky gust of air taken in quickly through your nose, abruptly pushed through your lips. “I don’t have long,” he mumbled, and you smiled, pushing down on top of him.

“Don’t care,” you sighed, giving him a heavy kiss, “Make me a mommy.”

He thrust up into you with a quiet, “Fuck.” Grasping your waist, he flipped you over, pinning you to the cushions. Holding your legs open with his knees, he took his hands to your ankles and pushed you further back. “I would, every time, if you asked.”

Snapping his hips against yours, it took two thrusts for him to topple over you, letting go of your ankles, grabbing onto the back of the couch. Through groans, needy moans, a desperation filled the air, a patheticness hanging in the heat, the sweat, not needing to hide, no need to silence yourselves. 

“God,” his groan needy. Wrapping one hand around your jaw he clamped your head back, keeping your eyes locked, your lips bumping with every quick snap of his hips. “When’s the last time we fucked?” Babbling mindlessly, unable to form proper words to answer him, Yunho smiled, his short pants fanning over the gleam of your skin. “Gonna fill you up,” his voice low, tickling your skin, “Fuckin’ you so deep, shit, pussy so good, gonna cum inside.”

“I want it,” you gasped, eyes fluttering shut, body going lax. His hold on you, his body on top of you, your inability to move, his strength, every insatiable snap of his hips, his words. Whispers of the high that never left you, that he never gave you time to work through, came back, spiraling you headfirst into another.

Hissing as you squeezed him, as you begged him through whines to fill you, to claim you, to breed you, to make a mess of you, to promise to always ruin you, he pressed down on your throat and moaned, a desperate mess, sweat beading on his forehead, the couch creaking beneath you, sliding on the hardwood floor. No control left, he pushed into you to the hilt, stretching your hips open. Groaning through his teeth, he pressed his thumb to your clit, no mercy to spare, the speed at which he made you cum again unforgivable as he spilled into you. 

Parted lips ghosting his, writhing beneath him, every tiny thrust into you as he came plunged you into overstim. Broken grunts, pathetic whimpers, you folded into one another, bodies buzzing, any word either of you could ever say, an afterthought. 

You couldn’t move. 

You didn’t want to move. 

Even as he softened within you, as your breathing attempted to return to normal, you didn’t want to move. In this moment he was yours. You were his. 

Picking his head up, feeling his body shake, he kissed your temple, whispering, “I love you.”

Gazing up at him, the hair sticking to his forehead, his flushed cheeks, his fucked out eyes, you whispered, “I love you.”

Parting his lips to say something else, he was cut off by a cell phone, the ringtone unmistakeable. Body tensing, soreness erupting everywhere as you tried to spring up, Yunho pushed you back gently and kissed your forehead. He unfortunately slipped out of you and stood up. 

“Stay here,” he said softly, reaching for his pants, jumping into them as he stumbled through the living room. The source of the Huntr/x song, your phone that sat on the ottoman in front of the lounge chair. Picking it up, taking a deep breath, he answered, “Hi Junie… No, sweetie, we’re still here… It’s okay, you did the right thing, what happened?... They… They did?” 

He glanced at you, his brows flattening. Sitting up, you went to stand up and he pointed a finger at you, making you sink back on the cushion. 

“You’re not in trouble for yelling at them, you stood up for your brother, we’re proud of you. Is Aden okay?” He rolled his eyes with a laugh. “Of course he called them that… Okay, I’ll be right there… Keep walking… Don’t let Aden throw any punches… Bye, sweetie.”

He dropped your phone back on the chair and brushed a hand over his face.

“What happened?” you asked, eyes following him as he started for the kitchen.

Scooping your pants from the floor beneath the island, he tossed them over to you and sighed, making his way behind the couch. “Hongjoong’s boys,” he mumbled, leaning over to give you a kiss. “They’re making fun of Aden again.” 

Sliding the cotton up your legs, you tried to leap off the sofa, but he pinned you back down. “Those motherfuckers, I’ll fuck H up, I’ll-”

“Easy, mama bear,” he laughed, kissing you one more time. “I got this. Joong will hear from me. I promise.”

Twisting on the couch as he walked toward the front door, you shouted, “Promise?”

He shot you a grin. “He’ll feel your wrath,” he said, dramatically. Then, he nodded at the couch and gave you a look. “Lay down and put your feet up, baby.”

Your heart went warm. “Oh, he’s serious,” you wiggled your brows.

Stepping into his shoes, he shot you a silly glare. “So are you. When I come back, I’ll do it again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

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