you know what? not even god can stop me

The minutes fall away like dominoes, each one ticking into the next. The sun dips lower, casting dark shadows over the alley that separates his apartment building from the one next door. A flicker catches the corner of his eye and turns to look, gazing into the window directly across from his bedroom. As he sits quietly, patiently drumming his fingers on the soft cushioning of the chair, a figure enters the room.

Wonwoo has loved you from the moment he first saw you. It’s been a little over six months since you moved in across the way. In all that time, he hasn’t learned what you do or where you’re from or even what your full name is. But it’s fine. None of that matters. 

He’s sure you were made for him.

You walk around your bedroom, following the same well-worn path that you do every evening. Disappearing into your bathroom and emerging a few minutes later in a silky bathrobe. Sitting at the vanity to attend to your skincare routine, gently massaging your beautiful skin with rich creams and moisturizers. Wonwoo appreciates the way you care for yourself. He likes that you have your nightly rituals. He has his own, too.

He reaches for his camera.

It’s late summer, the time of year when there’s no relief to be found at night, the air just as warm and suffocating as it is during the day. Sweat prickles on Wonwoo’s forehead, but he ignores it. He’s glad your landlord is as cheap as his. Air conditioning units would only make this difficult for him. He’d figure it out, of course, but it wouldn’t be as easy as it is now. 

Sometimes he thinks it’s a sign from the universe, how easy this is. Proof that the two of you are meant to be.

He brings his camera to his eye, playing with the focus, until the pretty face reflected in the vanity mirror is perfectly clear. Click-click-click goes the shutter, the only sound that can be heard in Wonwoo’s bedroom, other than his heavy breathing. 

His room is pitch black around him. Wonwoo’s always been comfortable with darkness. It hides all manner of sins. It hides him from your view on nights like this, even when you walk over to your window to lift the sash. A light breeze ruffles the bottom of your bathrobe, exposing more of your thighs to Wonwoo’s hungry eyes. His finger strokes the shutter button again. 

You undo the belt of your bathrobe, letting it fall open, and Wonwoo captures the reveal of the sheer babydoll chemise beneath. It skims the tops of your thighs, not quite covering the matching pair of panties you wear with it. Wonwoo’s gaze roams over your body, admiring the way the clingy material highlights your skin. He loves when you dress up for him. You never bring anyone home. Who else are you wearing these things for, if not him?

Of course, you’ve never acknowledged his presence. That’s part of your game, isn’t it? To display yourself for him but never look at or talk to him. Put on a show but never react to him taking your photo or touching himself. 

He’s very good at playing your game. After all, he wants to win. 

You’re a worthy prize.

You recline on your bed, propped up against a stack of pillows, and start scrolling on your phone. As he watches, shutter clicking, your free hand slides down your torso. Your fingers curl, pressing into your covered pussy, rubbing in slow circles. Oh. Wonwoo swallows thickly. 

It’s one of those nights. 

Silently, he puts his camera down again. Locates the button that switches from photo to video. And clicks it. 

The red light flickers on. 

Wonwoo quickly brings the camera back to his eye, practically cracking his glasses in the process. He fixes the focus, aiming the lens at the hand between your legs. As you start to caress harder, your legs part slightly, giving him a clearer view of your panties. The tiniest swirls of lace are visible to his eye, as is a growing wet spot. He silently thanks the universe that he splurged on an expensive camera model. 

Your nightgown is rumpled up around your waist as you press your hand more firmly against your cunt. It isn’t enough, judging by how you dip your fingers beneath your panties to glide over your slit.

“Come on, baby.” Wonwoo wasn’t planning on adding narration to this recording, but the words slip out anyway, in a low, urgent tone. “Slide them in.” He zooms in again, on the wetness gleaming on your fingertips. 

He’s disappointed when you pull your hand away, but that feeling is short-lived when he sees what you’ve reached for - the bright red toy that you keep under your pillow. It’s long and thick and Wonwoo feels his cock jump at the thought of it spreading you open. 

He could use it to help stretch you for him. 

Swiftly, rather desperately, you shimmy your panties down your legs, and Wonwoo’s mouth floods with saliva, nearly choking him as he stares entranced at your bare pussy. He wants to put his lips on it, kiss it until you’re squirming, pleading for him to slide his tongue inside. You’d make such a beautiful mess of his face. 

His earlier impatience is forgotten now as you work yourself up, dipping the tip of the vibrator in and out of your soaking folds, the quickening rise and fall of your chest letting Wonwoo know how much you’re enjoying teasing yourself. By the time the toy disappears into your cunt, Wonwoo’s just as breathless himself, and hard as a rock. 

“Yeah, just like that,” he murmurs, adjusting his lens again to capture the deft movement of your hand. “Fuck yourself for me.” For him, just him, and no one else. 

As if obeying his very command, your hand moves faster, and your mouth drops open in a pleasured gasp. Wonwoo groans. If only he could record the sounds you’re making, too. But you’re not loud enough for his camera to pick them up from here. 

He clucks his tongue. There’s no way he’ll accept such weak noises when he’s the one fucking you. He’ll coax loud cries from you any way he can. 

Your body undulates like a wave, hips canting as you plunge the toy deeper, and something inside Wonwoo snaps. There’s too much distance between you right now. With an aggravated huff, he slips off the chair, kneeling in front of his window. He lets his camera rest on the window sill as he lines up his shot. It’s better. But it’s not enough.

He needs to be closer.

As quietly as he can, he clambers out onto the fire escape. 

He’s taking a risk by being out here. There are no lights in the alley, but the glow of the moon is bright. That doesn’t stop him. He moves silently, crouching against the chipped metal railing, camera peeking through the slots, closing the distance between you as much as he can. 

For now, anyway.

His grip on the camera turns to iron. He’d rather fall off this fire escape than drop it. He glances around the alley, double checking that there’s no one else around. Once he’s reassured that it’s just you, him, and the moonlight, he refocuses - first his mind, then the lens. 

His breathing quickens as the toy slides into your folds again and again. He’s never envied an inanimate object more. He licks his lips, imagining the taste of you on his tongue. You’re not sweet, he’s sure of that. There’s nothing sweet about you, the way you tease him, leaving your curtains open like this. Inviting him to watch. 

Tempting him to do more.

His cock strains against the fly of his jeans, and he drops a hand to his crotch to squeeze himself, biting back a moan. Desire overwhelms him, but he can’t risk jerking off out here. The absolute last thing in the fucking world that he needs right now is to get caught. That would fuck up his plans. That would destroy him.  

Your other hand plays with your breasts, pushing your babydoll up until one is exposed, thumb rolling over and around the nipple. Wonwoo pictures himself there, lying beside you, head bent to take your other nipple in his mouth. He’s not sure he’d be able to hold himself back and allow you to finish yourself off. His fingers twitch at the thought of taking the toy from you and fucking you with it, through orgasm after orgasm, until you’re both drenched in sweat and exhausted.

He shoves the fantasy aside for later and retrains his steady gaze on your motions. He grips himself again when you start to pump the toy in and out faster. Your hips rise to meet each thrust, and Wonwoo might ruin his boxers at the sight. Fuck, he can see through the zoom how soaked the insides of your thighs are. He palms his erection slowly, trying to give himself just the slightest bit of pleasure, not enough to tip it over, only enough to feel good, and that’s when you start to come. 

As he gawks open-mouthed into the lens, your pretty pussy swallows the tip of the toy one last time. Then your hand suddenly lets go, grabbing a fistful of sheets instead. You shudder and writhe, and Wonwoo nearly drops his camera as he loses control too, the wet warmth of his cum spreading in his pants. 

Doubled over on the fire escape and breathing hard, it takes him a moment to regain his composure. Once he’s recovered, he stops the recording, and lifts the camera to his eye again to take another look. You haven’t moved from your bed, but you did remove the toy, and now have one hand tracing lazy circles around your clit. He wonders if you’re going to go again. Some nights you seem insatiable, seeking your high with a fervor that gives him chills to recall.

He’ll make sure you get your fill, when it’s time. 

For now, he’ll keep on watching. 

He’s always been a patient man. 

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“Can you not say it like that?” you reply, shivering. The room is getting chillier by the minute. The old radiator in the corner is doing its best to try to keep up with the cold temperature outside, but its best is terrible. 

If only you’d packed better for winter weather. At least your silky pajama set isn’t too revealing. Not that Wonwoo can see you right now, with his glasses on the nightstand by his side of the bed. That’s bed, singular, as in only one. The reservation your company booked had been for two rooms, but one computer error and no other vacancies later, here you are, stuck sharing the same bed with the most frustrating man alive. 

Why are work trips always so cursed?

“Say it like what?” 

“Like you’re inviting me to something that we both want to be happening.” 

Wonwoo’s face is deadpan as he stares at you. “Okay. How about - get your stubborn ass under the blankets already so I can finally get some sleep - is that better??” 

Not better, exactly, but considerably more normal. The two of you have been at each other’s throats since the day you were hired, locked in a neverending battle for dominance. You argue constantly, one of you always challenging the other. You’re not sure anymore who started it, but you do know one thing for certain - you will not lose to him. 

“Fine. Just remember the agreement.” 

“I’m not gonna leave my side.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes as you slip beneath the blankets. The bed is queen-sized, with space enough between you that you’re not touching at all. You lie on your side and face the wall, completely ignoring him - or trying to, at least. Until you move your foot and accidentally brush his calf.

“Ow!” He lifts the blankets to look at his leg. “I think you cut me with your toenails.” 

“Shut up, no I didn’t.” You barely touched him. 

“Keep your little talons to yourself.” 

“Maybe you should sleep in something other than your boxers,” you suggest, then add quietly, “...if you’re gonna be such a little bitch about it.”  

“I told you, this is what I always sleep in. I run hot. Also? I was not expecting any company tonight.” 

“It’s not my fault the reservation system glitched or whatever,” you point out defensively. “I don’t want to be here.” 

He sighs. “Yeah, I know. Now, will you please just relax?” 

“Shuttup,” you mumble under your breath, kneading your pillow, pushing the lumps around. “I’m relaxed. Go to sleep.” 

“You can’t order me around,” comes a mumbled response you’re nevertheless meant to hear. He never lets you have the last word. Never. 

At least you’re not cold anymore, since bickering with Wonwoo always fires up your blood. The way he gets under your skin should honestly be studied and applied as a torture technique. You close your eyes, hoping that when you open them again, it will be morning and this nightmare will have ended. 

And maybe that would’ve happened if the universe wasn’t such a hater.

In the middle of the night, you wake to find yourself lying chest-to-chest with Wonwoo - intertwined, with his hand splayed across your hip and your leg lying over his. Your surprise fades into resigned acceptance. Sure, this might as well be happening. 

At least it can be somewhat easily explained away - in your sleep, your body was obviously drawn to his heat. It’s his warmth you were attracted to, not his surprisingly impressive physique. Did he always have such big biceps?. How does he hide those under his button-ups? Or move without popping a seam? 

The position you’ve ended up in feels weirdly intimate, as if the two of you are embracing. If Wonwoo wakes up while you’re wrapped around each other like this, he will undoubtedly start some shit, and you’re too tired to deal with that. Slowly, you roll your hips, trying to slide your leg off of him.

Wonwoo groans in his sleep. His hand clutches at you, holding you close, stopping your shifting. You wait a few minutes until he settles again before trying to push yourself away. But this requires more effort, and you jostle him awake. His eyes meet yours, then drop down to where you’re tangled together. 

He’s beyond smug. “I knew you’d end up over here.” 

“What?!” you exclaim. “You’re on my side!” 

He scoffs, then grabs his glasses, looking around. “Whatever. Notice how you were the one wrapped around me? This wasn’t just my doing.” He frowns. “Besides, this is probably just, you know…” 

“...body heat?”

Something flickers in his eyes at your suggestion. “…sure.”

You lie there in silence for a moment, staring at each other. His hair is messy and his cheeks are smushed from his pillow. You must be delirious from lack of sleep, because you catch yourself thinking, he’s kinda cute when he’s not being an ass.

A chill distracts you. The radiator hasn’t given up the fight, but the war is over. Damn it. You never sleep well when you’re cold. 

Time to choke on your pride.

“Will you stay here?” 

“Like this?!” 

“No, I mean like - “ You turn over, so your back is facing him again, then kind of scoot backwards until you’re closer but not quite touching. “Like this. You know, for -“

“- body heat,” he finishes for you. “Yeah, sure, that’s fine.” 

“Great.” That was puzzlingly easy. “It’s too cold - ”

“But only if you say please.”

“What?” 

You glance over your shoulder to find him smirking at you once more. It’s teasing now, rather than smug, and despite yourself, you kind of like it. This is why he’s so frustrating - he stirs up so many confusing emotions in you. 

Wonwoo repeats himself slowly. “Say. Please.”

“You’re. Not. My. Boss,” you reply mockingly.

He clicks his tongue. “Try again. You want me to be nice, you need to be nice, too.” 

“Who’s not being nice?” You pout, honestly unsure if you’re flirting or fighting at this point. Maybe it’s the same thing for the two of you. 

“Do you want me to stay or not?” 

“Oh, shut up and help me get back to sleep. The faster I sleep, the faster you do, too.” 

“That is…” He falls silent, recognizing that you have a point. 

Without another word, Wonwoo lays down, pulling you towards him. His bare chest warms you through your top while his fingertips on your arms draw goosebumps. Hot and cold, a mixture of sensations, a mess of emotions. This is going to change things, isn’t it?

His hand traces over your lower stomach, lighter than air, and your breath hitches. In the darkness of the room, it’s easy to avoid thinking about any potential ramifications, and focus instead on the tingling pleasure blooming everywhere he touches you. 

“Is this what you meant?” he asks, and you gasp as his fingers push lightly on your lower stomach. An urgent need is growing inside you. “You said you need help.” His lips ghost over the back of your neck. “Do you want me to touch you?”

You do, but you don’t know how to tell him that without losing the game. You whimper his name, and push his hand between your thighs without another word. 

He kisses the side of your throat. “That’s what I thought.”

You open your mouth intending to give him an earful of what you think. But his fingers press against you through your clothes, and you can’t speak for all the moaning you’re doing. With a low chuckle, he pulls your leg back over his, spreading you open for him. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pajamas. 

This is really happening. You take a deep breath, and as you exhale, you let yourself melt against him.

“That’s it, just relax.” 

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