#infficer

The Officer likes to think he drinks in moderation. A glass or two of whiskey at night to calm his nerves, get him settled for bed. Rarely did he ever get drunk. It usually happened if he got carried away, mindlessly pouring himself glass after glass, until he found himself leaning over the bed barely able to stand. He hadn’t gotten drunk in front of somebody else since a time in his 30s he stumbled into a bar and drank himself half-dead.

Something about In-ho let his guard down. His mind fogged around him, not counting how many glasses he’d gone through, the burning in his throat no longer in the forefront of his senses. He found himself slowly losing his filter. Eyes lidding, carelessly placing his hands wherever he could grasp. In-ho let him. 

The Officer didn’t know how many drinks In-ho had, but it clearly wasn’t enough to inebriate him—unlike himself.

“Captain…” his words were slurred. He lazily slung his arm over In-ho’s shoulder, gently grabbing his chin with his other hand, coaxing eye contact. In-ho raised a brow, clearly entertained by the Officer’s drunken antics thus far. The Officer stared at him in adoration. He placed gentle kisses down In-ho’s neck, trailing his jawline. “Please, Captain…”

“What?”

“Captain…”

“Hm?”

“...Let me get you pregnant.”

In-ho startled, his mouth agape for a moment before snapping it shut, regaining his composure.

“You are so drunk.”

The Officer whined, gripping onto In-ho tighter, almost into a hug.

“Captain, please.”

In-ho pulled his hands off. The Officer let himself fall backwards on the cushions, legs flailing upwards. In-ho grabbed his arm, pulling him up.

“You’re going to bed.”

It all blurred, the Officer didn’t remember walking (or moreso being half dragged) to the bedroom, but he was there. His vision was unfocused, every step feeling as though he were in a dream. When In-ho let him go, he nearly fell over.

“Captain…”

“What?” In-ho turned from the bed where he was pulling back the covers. The Officer stood by the doorway, like a clueless child, swaying back and forth.

“Please…” The Officer lowered himself onto his knees. He fell down to his palms, crawling to In-ho.

Sitting up on his heels, his hands found their place resting on In-ho’s hips. In-ho bit his lip. The Officer looked up at him with big, glossy eyes; strands of raven black hair falling out of place, lips slightly parted. In-ho placed his hand on the Officer’s nape, running his thumb across the skin. A shiver ran up his spine. 

“Please…?” It was his final plea. 

In-ho’s face flushed. He was so drunk. God, he couldn’t resist. Something deep in him urged to accept. Seeing the Officer so desperate, falling apart at his fingertips, it intrigued him. He wanted to see how far it’d go, just how pathetic he could be for him. His little lapdog. 

“...Okay.” In-ho swallowed, his mouth dry.