#jackheon

It’s the dead hours of the early morning when Jia Er creeps into the courtesan house. The entire place is silent, occasionally muffling with the quiet noise of blanketed whispers before melting back into stillness.

The attendant nods sleepily at him, barely alert enough to correctly count the number of pounds he’s been given as he sloppily scrawls Jia Er’s name onto the guest list.

The traveling ambassador takes pity on the young boy, secretly slipping in another two or so pounds for his effort. He’s got money to spare after all.

“Sir,” he interrupts himself with a wide yawn, “who would you like to see today?” Jia Er could name off the exact room if need be, but he settles for charmingly grinning out, “Lee Jooheon, please,”  instead.

The attendant hums approvingly as he turns back to the key rack. Jia Er can already spot it at the top right - 194 shining teasingly in the dim light. It clinks musically as the boy reaches for it with a hooked pole, as if singing a welcome to Jia Er.

“He’s a popular one you know?” The ambassador nods lightly, keeping his expression calm even though he would know better than anyone else just how loved his favorite courtesan is. His visits must have made up at least half of Jooheon’s client history alone.

“Right, well, please enjoy your stay at Brixton’s finest pleasure house.” He bows deeply in a rehearsed greeting before unlocking the door to the concubine quarters. “The Orient welcomes you to its mystic lands.” He hands over key 194, its grooves and edges well rounded and familiar within Jia Er’s palm.

He stifles a snicker at the cheesy line, nothing about his homeland ever seeming as exotic or “mystic” as the English locals would like to make it out to be. Still, credit must be given where credit’s due. They’ve done a decent job of keeping everything consistent with the theme, even if there’s bits here and there that are more than a little inaccurate.

Even in the dark, he can tell the walls are glistening with golden paintings, flying larks extending their feathers across faraway mountains and misted forests. It’s honestly a sight to behold for any client who decides to actually pay attention to their surroundings.

It’s not the sight Jia Er came here for, though.

He finds what he’s looking for two doors right from the end of the hall, 194 plated elegantly across the wood. The knob clicks underneath his fingers when he inserts the key, turning with practiced ease as he lets himself into the courtesan’s room without any warning.

Jia Er steps in, closing the door quietly behind him before taking in the darkened scene in front of him with fond eyes. At a quarter to three in the morning, it’s obvious most everyone would be asleep, courtesans being of no exception.

The curved lump beneath a canopied bed slowly rises and falls in a calm rhythm, and Jia Er would almost regret interrupting much needed sleep if he weren’t leaving the next day.

With this in mind, he selfishly kneels onto the soft cushions, blankets and bed dipping under his weight when he shakes gently at what is hopefully a shoulder. Suddenly, one lump becomes two when an unfamiliar head ducks up at the intrusion, and Jia Er is almost startled into falling back onto his ass.

The boy is most definitely not Jooheon, full cheeks replaced by an oval jawline, his strong eyebrows and thin lips set in a dark frown. A skimpy nightshirt hangs low over his wispy frame, the fancy silk almost see-through in the piercing moonlight. There’s no way he’s here as a client then: so what is a fellow courtesan doing in another’s bed?

They both voice their confusion out loud, “who are you?” and “what are you doing here?” clashing through the silence.

Jia Er comes to his senses first, patience quickly dwindling as he answers lowly, “A guest, obviously. And you, a courtesan sleeping in another’s bed?”

The young man scowls, still boyishly handsome even as his pretty face twists into poorly-disguised anger. “And what are you, honored guest, doing here at this time of day? Have you no proper sense of time or basic human decency?”

Jia Er retorts back instantly, no qualms against arguing with someone who was basically a child compared to himself. “You must not be doing enough for the business then, if you laze around like this. A good courtesan knows how to show proper respect at all hours of the day and night - something you seem to not understand at all.” It’s an embellished tale, of course, but Jia Er’s too fired up to back down from his tiny lie, when he’s being challenged by someone who looks half his age.

Before he’s inevitably jumped and strangled by the now-fuming courtesan, the lump underneath him finally rouses, and a murmured, “Changkyun-ah?” slips out from beneath the thick covers.  

The tension immediately drains from the younger man’s body, and he slips back down to pull at the heavy cotton. Underneath, is exactly who Jia Er’s been looking for, dark lashes brushing against flushed cheeks as he slowly blinks awake to the two hovered figures around him.

“What...what’s going on?” Jooheon mumbles, voice scratchy as he rubs slowly at sleep-crusted eyes. He yawns mid-phrase, mouth opening wide and stretching loose-sleeved arms over his head, squeaking pleasurably when his muscles and joints pull and pop just so.

“Hyung,” the younger boy pouts petulantly, kneeling to the side like a spoiled child. “Some asshole client is here at three in the morning to see you, apparently.”

Jooheon finally looks over, pleasant surprise widening his eyes as he sees a very familiar face. He grins out a loud greeting, “Jia Er!” and lunges forward, knocking into the ambassador with a full embrace.

Changkyun forgotten, the two melt against each other, Jooheon peppering quick kisses on Jia Er’s face, and Jia Er returning the affection in full, pulling the courtesan completely into his arms.

“I missed you,” Jooheon whispers, forcing himself to pull away from the other’s lips, so few centimeters apart Jia Er can still feel the courtesan’s breath puffing hotly on his own. “You haven’t visited in a long time…” he plays childishly, pouting with feigned exaggeration, but a glimmer of truth very evident in the genuine frown pulling across his brows.

Jia Er would love to lay him down and make up for all the days lost to busy work, but there’s still another person intruding on their intimate moment, someone who’s also currently glaring at Jia Er like he would rip off his lips if given the chance.

Thankfully, Jooheon reads his anxious glance and saves him from oncoming dismemberment by unlacing his arms and slipping off his lap with practiced grace, crawling over to whisper softly to the sulking boy.

Jia Er can’t quite tell what’s going on, what with their secretive tones and faces shadowed by the silk canopy. However, they seem to come to an agreement, albeit a reluctant one, when Jooheon grabs the other boy’s hand, gripping it as he nods vigorously, and then leaning over to press an enthusiastic kiss to a blushing cheek.

Now, it’s Changkyun’s turn to nod, gripping onto the older courtesan’s hand for a moment longer before stepping off the bed with a soft thud, bare feet padding across the chilled floor to the closed door.  He pulls it open and throws one last dirty look Jia Er’s way before whisking out of the room in a flurry of white silk, leaving them with one last impression of naked legs illuminated in the pale moonlight, before the door is pulled shut with a bang.

It’s just the two of them now, and Jooheon smiles apologetically as he crawls back to Jia Er, settling bare thighs over his lap again. This time, Jia Er lets his hands roam freely over the other’s body, taking in every curved contour that he’s become so familiar with over time.

And yet, it’s been so long since Jooheon’s been pressed under his palms like this, that even the sensation of being able touch him, skin-to-skin, feels completely new again. He strokes around the curve of naked thighs, marveling at the thick line of muscle shifting under soft skin. Jooheon shivers at the touch of a cold cufflink accidentally rubbing up against his leg and arches closer, wrapping his arms around Jia Er’s neck and pressing the other man’s face into a silk-clad shoulder.

The ambassador inhales deeply at the scent of vanilla and violets clinging warmly to the courtesan’s skin, his stomach pulsing hotly as it digs up memories of teeth set gently against bared flesh. The images flicker shortly like forbidden film through his mind. Jooheon’s told him before that it was only a form of specially mixed powder, but there’s such an indescribable sweetness to it that Jia Er thinks there must be something else.

Before he can dwell on it too much, Jooheon pulls away to look down at him with intent fondness, amusement scrawling through upturned eyes. “What is it?” Jia Er asks, the same wide grin mirroring across his own face as he hugs the other man tightly around his waist.

“Wasn’t he cute?” Jooheon chuckles, motioning to the closed door. Jia Er frowns for a second before realizing he’s talking about the scowling, slim-faced boy from before and sighs. “Who, your…?”

The courtesan laughs, wriggling in his lap before completing his sentence. “Dongsaeng, a younger brother, so to speak.” When Jia Er’s eyes bulge in confusion, Jooheon quickly rushes to correct him, giggling at the other’s goldfish expression. “In age only! It just means he’s a close younger friend.”

The Chinese ambassador tries to pronounce the word, his tongue stumbling over foreign syllables. He doesn’t quite get it right, enunciating too hard on the first part, but Jooheon coos adoringly anyway, rewarding him with an open-mouthed kiss. The courtesan attempts to teach it syllable by syllable, their lips almost touching as he whispers “dong-saeng” until Jia Er’s repeating the sounds back mindlessly in an attempt to receive a kiss again.

Jooheon seems to have an unending well of patience, but Jia Er’s only human after all, and the prolonged teasing isn’t doing anything for his already worn restraint. When he gets another murmured correction of his pronunciation, he surges upwards, swallowing the Korean syllables impatiently, licking roughly into Jooheon’s mouth, which falls open easily, slack with surprise.

They separate after Jia Er’s had his fill, both panting heavily as they part with spit-slicked lips. “Enough about your dongsaeng,” the ambassador whines, eyes inadvertently tracing the shining bow of the courtesan’s upper lip. Jooheon sees through his movements with ease, and peeks a pink tongue out to lick lightly at his bottom lip, just to tease.

Jia Er scowls, knowing exactly just how much his long-time companion likes to take advantage of his transparency, and leans forward to bite at a dimpled cheek instead. He receives a high squeak in return and only bites harder, until Jooheon delivers a stinging slap to the back of his neck. He pulls off only to swing forward, taking the courtesan by surprise as he presses him into the blankets, slinging bare knees over his own clothed shoulders.

Jooheon glares back, even as he lets himself be easily folded in half and rubs sulkily at the reddening bite mark on his cheek. “It’s your own fault,” Jia Er reasons with a crooked smirk, stroking gently at indented teeth marks with his thumb, Jooheon automatically sinking into his touch.

“How is it my fault?” the man under him asks, cradling the rest of the ambassador’s hand to his face, delicate fingers wrapping tightly around Jia Er’s cuffed wrist. Jia Er complies, letting Jooheon nuzzle into his palm like a satisfied cat as he presses into an ocean-deep dimple with the tip of his thumb.

“You’re doing it on purpose - trying to work me up with talk about another man while you rub around on my lap.” He grinds his clothed crotch up against a smooth thigh, swiping his thumb over pink lips when Jooheon moans openly at the sensation. The other man bites down fiercely, mouth closing with a satisfied click when Jia Er slips his finger away from dangerous lips.

“It worked didn’t it? You’re too easy to read Jia Er,” he laughs, playing the ambassador’s earlier expressions through his head. He sends a mental apology to Changkyun though, feeling slightly regretful at having used his adorable dongsaeng to rile up a long-time lover. However, he decides to tease one last time, cooing out, “Wasn’t Changkyunnie so extremely precious though?”

It works immediately, almost a little too well as Jia Er pins his wrists to the bed, pressing his hardened length right flush up against his ass, grinding roughly with Jooheon completely powerless to resist.

Not that he would have, anyway. It’s always been fun to push the quick-tempered man’s control to the edge - not that he has much of it in the first place. It’s been too long since they’ve done this together, and Jooheon’s lower half surges with heat at the darkly possessive expression on the Chinese ambassador’s face.

They’ve done this push and pull game many times before, but this time, Jia Er has no patience for it. “I can’t believe you’re forcing me to do this, you fox.” Jooheon’s eyes narrow at that, proving the other man’s words completely correct at the sly expression on his face.

“I”

(Jia Er starts thrusting erratically with every word, slamming against Jooheon’s clothed ass and rocking him back into the bed)

“wanted”

(the courtesan gasps at the sensation, heat spiking wildly in his gut)

“to”

(Jia Er digs his fingers into Jooheon’s pulse, his own heart beating just as quickly)

“spend”

(Jooheon surges up, trapped against Jia Er’s caging heat)

“a”

(Jia Er bears down even harder, the courtesan’s panting breath by his ear)

“nice”

(Jooheon whines, feeling the wetness of pre-cum starting to seep through his underwear)

“night”

(Jia Er swears he could come from the sight before him alone; dewy eyes and flushed cheeks completely powerless under him)

“with you,” he grits out, thrusting one last time, before gripping the knees hooked over his shoulders and pushing them back until they’re spread by the courtesan’s ears, exposing the other’s tightly clad bottom.

His hands free, Jooheon tries to salvage the last of his dignity, softly-rounded fingers trying to pull a silk nightshirt desperately over his hardening cock. Jia Er only watches darkly, a part of him taking karmic enjoyment at how the tables have turned, his partner finally embarrassed and subject to his will.

“But no, you only seem to love it when I’m mad.” The blushing man under him whines lowly in response, suddenly too conscious of his own exposed state to try and snap back a reply. “Tell me,” he leans forward, pushing even harder at splayed legs, “what do you really want from me? Am I that fun to play around with?”

“Jia Er…” he whines, face tomato-red at the twisted position of his body. When the ambassador stays rock still, he whines even harder. “Hyung, please!” Jia Er twitches, cursing the erotic effect a simple honorific has on him. He’s not even technically years older than Jooheon, only being born earlier by seven months or so. That word alone turns him on like this because a past meeting had contained the single syllable mumbled experimentally once, before being squeaked out over and over again as it had compelled Jia Er to fuck into the courtesan harder than ever before. Something about the way he says it, the way he’s almost begging when he does, always gets to him.

Jooheon knows it exactly and uses that to his advantage now, pleading with both widened eyes and high-pitched cries of “hyung!” Jia Er tries his best to resist, gritting his teeth against the barrage, even as every whine goes straight to his already throbbing cock. He’s not going to be able to hold out much longer - at least not if he doesn’t shut up the whining courtesan as soon as possible.

A plan already forming in mind, he lets go of one leg to palm heavily over Jooheon’s hidden cock, pushing down over the nightshirt with barely restrained strength. It works perfectly, the whine breaking off mid-phrase (“hyun - AH!”), and Jooheon starts thrashing wildly at the sudden contact.

Jia Er hooks kicking legs over his shoulders again, resolutely ignoring the way they knock against his cheeks to focus on the fingers shyly holding a silk shirt over a hardened cock. Jooheon tries to pull it down as far as possible, but it only takes a few moments before Jia Er is prying his fingers away and yanking the cloth all the way up to his chest.

They both stop struggling at that exact second, Jia Er stunned into complete stillness, and Jooheon blushing furiously as he obstinately refuses to meet the gaping man’s eyes.

The ambassador closes and opens his dropped jaw again and again, trying to find the words that could possibly describe the image before him.

“You - you, why are you wearing a corset?”

Jooheon groans, completely mortified, and ducks his heated face into silk-sleeved palms. He tries to retract his legs, currently hiked up on Jia Er’s shoulders, back onto the bed as to curl up in a fetal ball, so that he’ll never have to face the other man ever again.

Even in his shocked state, Jia Er still reacts quick enough to grab the slipping thighs, locking them tightly to his shoulders. Jooheon whines again, “Stop, hyung, just leave it alone already!” The honorific barely works this time, the courtesan too panicked to try and tease properly, and Jia Er grins in victory.

“No way, at least-” he roves his gaze appreciatively over the the black corset, drinking in the way it contrasts against soft skin, emphasizing supple curves, and smiles widely, teeth glistening sharply in the moonlight, “-not before I fuck you in this.”

Jooheon only lets out a broken moan, hoping to suffocate himself in silk palms before he has to ever let Jia Er see his burning face. It’s adorable and oh so precious , how Jooheon performs a complete 180, switching from a teasing fox to a blushing angel. If the lightning surge of heat through his lower half isn’t love, then Jia Er never wants to find out what it’s actually supposed to feel like anyway.

“Come on,” he wheedles, leaning down as he keeps two hands securely gripped against thick thighs. “Let me see your face, Jooheonie.” The courtesan’s heart skips a beat at the affectionate term in his mother tongue, but he stubbornly keeps his face hidden, unwilling to look up.

It doesn’t seem like sweet-talk (see: whining) will get him anywhere, and Jia Er feigns disappointment, staying completely still and silent as the gears in his head spin methodically.

Just as Jooheon becomes suspicious, starting to peek out from over silk-draped fingers, the other man suddenly latches his mouth onto the exposed skin above the ridge of the corset. He bites and sucks at the unblemished flesh, tugging pebbled nipples gently between his teeth, until Jooheon’s a moaning mess, crushing Jia Er’s neck between tensed thighs as he writhes in pained pleasure.

Somehow his cupped palms have slipped loose, and Jia Er slips off the now pert nub with a pop! to beam with dark satisfaction at the other’s revealed face. The flushed courtesan realizes his mistake too late, fruitlessly ducking towards the blankets as his wrists are once again pinned to the bed.

Lips set onto Jooheon’s exposed cheeks and neck, pressing sloppy kisses on every possible inch of skin Jia Er can get his mouth on. The other man squeaks out an unwilling moan, squeezing his eyes shut into half-crescents as he tries to ignore the Chinese ambassador’s aggressive advances.

As he continues kissing his way across Jooheon’s face, Jia Er slowly sneaks a hand down from a bare thigh to suddenly press a thumb deviously against the other’s clothed ass. Jooheon shrieks at the intrusion, flailing his head sideways to knock his cheek against the other man’s nose, and Jia Er immediately looms up, flushed with victory as he presses a hand around the courtesan’s neck, finally forcing Jooheon to look directly at him.

They’re chests heave with labored breathing at the finished struggle, Jooheon moreso with the strict hand around his neck and the corset constricting around his waist. “Christ,” Jia Er pants, “you’re more stubborn than the oldest bull.” He strokes a thumb over the courtesan’s bobbing throat, finally able to take in the appreciative view below him.

And it’s a view indeed.

With his shirt pushed up to his armpits, nipples perked into hardened buds, hands curled delicately around oversized sleeves, and full lips trembled and parting as he stares up at Jia Er with glistening, vulnerable eyes - it’s a fever dream come to life. The ambassador seriously considers commissioning every world-famous artist to capture this scene - pencil, watercolor, oil paints: anything would work, as long as he could have this image until the end of time, to hoard the view completely for himself.  

(Because there’s no way he could ever truly own Jooheon).

“You’re seriously beautiful - you know that right?” He lets out a breathless laugh, amused at the seemingly obvious question. Jooheon sets his mouth into a flat line, pink lips still slightly shaking as he attempts to glare wetly up at the grinning man.

Still stubborn, huh? Jia Er sighs mentally and lowers himself to his elbows to press them chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose, as he stares directly down into flickering brown eyes. He expresses his exasperation out loud, letting out a flat sigh as he completely collapses onto the warm body beneath him, rubbing his cheek against crumpled silk and childishly wrapping his arms around Jooheon’s neck.

“I honestly don’t care what you wear, much less whether or not it’s women’s clothing,” he mumbles quietly against a pounding heartbeat. After a moment’s deliberation, he declares, ”You look best naked, anyway.”

For that, he receives a resounding punch against the side of his head, the force of it making every sound bounce distortedly inside his mind. He whips up in pained fury to blindly grab at the offending fist, squeezing it so tightly it deforms back into a curved palm. Jooheon starts struggling wildly, turning this way and that, like a writhing snake, knocking his knees with surprising force into Jia Er’s face, until the ambassador is forced to resume his earlier position, pushing Jooheon’s legs flush against the bed, forcing him to be bent completely in half.

Jooheon rages, trying to sit up on raised elbows, but completely failing as Jia Er pushes him down with his own body weight, looming like an impenetrable wall. Defeated, Jooheon flops back flat, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes until colored stars begin appearing. He starts off muttering something completely incomprehensible, before slowly growing in volume, until he’s eventually yelling various insults at Jia Er, some in English, some in Korean, and some just seeming to be unintelligible shouts.

The Chinese ambassador calmly takes them all, letting the courtesan empty everything out of his system, making no effort to even try and retort. Slowly, the other man winds down, running out of insults until he’s completely devoid of words, the room being filled only with the sound of his gasping breaths.

“Are you done now?” Jia Er asks gently, his hold still strong and unmoving over his now-silent partner. Jooheon immediately replies, both arms lain like blindfolds over his eyes. “Shut up. You always say the most infuriating things.” He pauses, angrily deliberating before mumbling out, “I seriously hate you sometimes.”

“I’m absolutely right though,” Jia Er mutters, forcing himself to skip past the last hurtful statement. “My word is the only one that should matter: your body is perfect as is.” He bows down, nosing teasingly at curls twisting messily around a pinking ear. “Don’t you trust your most valued customer?”

Jooheon groans lowly, arms still clenched over his eyes as he replies, “You’re saying stupid things again. Who says you’re my most valued customer?” Jia Er pouts, tugging at a pierced lobe with his teeth and directly whispering into a shivering ear, “Your monthly pay. The log book. Me, obviously.”

The courtesan yanks his head away, Jia Er’s teeth clicking painfully against each other as his mouth snaps closed around empty air. Jooheon glowers petulantly, unwillingly admitting, “Fine, so you are. Do you want some kind of reward now?” He was only asking rhetorically, snapping in blunt anger, but the other man’s face lights up with childish delight, and he lets go of the courtesan’s legs to flop down on top of him, asking with pure curiosity, “Yes. Tell me why you wear this,” and he strokes a hand lightly down a corseted waist.

Jooheon scowls, pink dusting across the bridge of his nose. He decides to answer anyway, stuttering quickly through his words. “I, there’s just something about it. Some sense of comfort, safety, or control maybe...I don’t really know, but it’s always there when I put it on.”

Jia Er blinks, lightly contemplative before breaking into a radiant grin. “If you feel comfortable in it, does that mean I can fuck you in it?”

He’s prepared this time, catching the oncoming slap by a silken wrist and pinning it back to the bed. A powerful kick slams into his side, but he only bears down harder, forcing Jooheon to concentrate on taking short, quick gasps instead of violently assaulting him.

“Don’t tell me, you haven’t thought about it?” he pauses, taking in the other’s darting glance. He runs a hand over the curve of the corseted waist, pressing down barely enough for Jooheon to go momentarily breathless. Something hard stirs against his waist, and his eyes glint in dark realization, licking predatorily over his lips as he croons lowly, “Oh, you definitely have then…”

Jooheon can’t control his body’s reaction; Jia Er’s unfortunately right - he would be fucking lying if he said he had never thought about mixing whatever this was with sex. Especially, if it was with a certain client.

There’s no way he’ll give the other man the pleasure of hearing that out loud though, not even over his dead body.

Jooheon glances away, mumbling softly, “You’re absolutely infuriating.” Jia Er instantly replies with, “And you’re extremely stubborn. There, we’re settled.” He gauges Jooheon’s silent reaction for a moment, before daring to repeat his request for the umpteenth time.

“So, can we fuck now?”

The courtesan snorts, no anger left in his system as he pulls the ambassador up by his collar for a quick kiss, whispering “i can’t believe you” against parting lips. He can even feel Jia Er’s mouth pull into a wide grin, no doubt revelling in his successful conquest. Determined to punish him somehow, Jooheon buffs the other man off of him, lazily declaring, “You’re doing all the work, then. Go get the oil, valued customer, you obviously know where it is.”

Jia Er makes a face at him before rolling off the bed and padding towards the side dresser, completely stocked with all kinds of “supplies.” He starts stripping as he goes, roughly tugging open stuffy buttons and rifling impatiently through the drawers for a stray bottle of oil.

When he returns, oil found and tucked safely in hand, Jooheon is still spread lazily across the bed, nightshirt left rucked lewdly up over his chest. Jia Er kneels back down between spread legs, pulling unceremoniously at the courtesan’s underwear until he’s peeling it over soft thighs, bent knees, and thick calves, until he’s stringing it off from arched feet.

“I can’t believe by “doing all the work” you literally meant everything! Do I really have to help you strip?” he complains pointlessly as he continues to pull the rumpled nightshirt up over the Jooheon’s already raised arms. Divested of basically all clothing, the courtesan shivers, pressing his legs tightly together and curling in on himself, wrapping bare arms around his own corseted middle.

Jia Er straddles over him for a moment, before sulkily sitting back as he pulls Jooheon up by one tensed arm, grabbing both hands and settling them against his half-opened shirt. “Hey, at least help me undress too…”

Jooheon complies, expertly undoing every button until his fingers trail down a familiar patch of dark hair. He dips towards the other’s bulging crotch, fumbling with the button until it pops open, flushing as a groan of satisfaction comes from above him. Before he can wrap his fingers around the pulsing member, a hand snaps around his wrist, jerking it away as a dark head of hair suddenly drops against his bare shoulder.

Jia Er moans again, dropping Jooheon’s wrist as he tries to hold himself back. “I’m literally right on the very edge. If you touch me there again, there’s no way I’ll be able to get it up to fuck you later.” The courtesan’s mouth drops open in a silent “o” of realization, and he scoots forward until his bare ass is directly pressed over the ambassador’s crotch.

“Then, just do it already,” he whispers, looping his arms around Jia Er, completely closing his eyes as he entrusts his body to the other man.

Jia Er hurries to pop open the bottle, drizzling the entire bottle messily over his fingers as he mutters, “You say I’m infuriating, but I can’t believe you sometimes - I swear you’re trying to kill me!” He continues muttering random thoughts against Jooheon’s ear as he grabs greedily at full asscheeks.

The courtesan blushes at the rambling statements, none of them truly clean enough to see the light of day. And yet, Jia Er continues anyway, complaining about how he’s too distracting, how he can never get anything done thanks to his eyes, his lips, his legs, his everything. Simultaneously, two fingers slip smoothly into him, catching Jooheon by surprise as the other man sets a punishing pace, stretching and probing with practiced speed, until he’s begging uncontrollably to be taken already.

Jia Er presses experimentally one last time, grinning as the body in his lap suddenly surges up, as if run through by lightning, the other man inadvertently letting out a high squeak of surprise as that deep, pleasurable spot inside him is teased over and over again.

“Jia Er - ah! - stop, I swear, if you don’t - I’ll come!” The ambassador finally listens, regrettably slipping his fingers out from the tight channel and secretly wiping them against the other’s black corset. Jooheon groans at the sudden loss, clenching desperately at empty air as he mindlessly cants his hips downward, searching for something to fill him up.

Jia Er stops the other’s erratic movement, hissing at the almost painful contact between them, gripping forcibly at full hips. There’s no doubt that there will be bruising tomorrow, but neither of them could care less right now. Jooheon knows exactly what Jia Er wants: he wants him to beg, to utter every filthy wish out loud, until he’s made enough of a mess of himself for Jia Er to completely take over and ruin.

It’s different tonight; there’s a rush in the air, as if they’re running out of time somehow, and Jooheon can’t stand to wait anymore. He pulls Jia Er to him, kissing him deeply, letting the other swallow down his whispered desires of “fuck me so hard I’ll go mute from screaming your name” and “push me beyond all my limits” as he presses his corseted waist deliriously against the other’s bare chest.

It seems like they both feel the same kind of desperate impatience, when Jia Er moans lowly, stomach pulsing at each request, and he fumbles for his cock, almost shaking as he finally slips into Jooheon.

It’s a tight fit for the both of them, the preparation too rushed, but the courtesan could genuinely care less. It’s the best thing he’s felt in his life, simultaneously being filled up to the brim inside, while the corset constricts gently around outside. He could die like this; the feeling could only be described as pure ecstasy surging through his veins at the overpowering sensations.

It intensifies tenfold though, when Jia Er starts thrusting, completely situated inside him as he bounces him up and down like a ragdoll in his lap. Jooheon can only hold on, digging his nails into the other’s back as he loses complete control of his lower half. He can barely move, only barely clinging on throughout the whole process as his partner pounds in and out of him, each thrust tearing an uncontrollable sound out of him.

Neither of them can keep up the erratic rhythm for long, and Jia Er blindly searches out for the other’s mouth, messily pressing their lips together and swallowing every moan, every cry, until Jooheon suddenly clenches like a vice, tightening towards the fine line between pain and pleasure as he comes with a broken sigh, which is swallowed up by Jia Er’s demanding mouth as well.

He kisses Jooheon well through his shuddering aftershocks, keeping his hips as still as possible to let the other come down from his orgasmic high. When he’s no longer shaking in his arms, Jia Er dares to chase his own release, thrusts breaking at the courtesan’s little moans, each one drawing out as he lays ragdoll-limp against the ambassador’s shoulder.

Finally, he comes with a full-body shiver, instinctually muffling his shout into a bared neck, wrapping his arms as tightly as possible around the other, holding him so close he swears he can’t tell where he, Wang Jia Er, starts and where Lee Jooheon ends for one flashing moment.

By the time he finishes spilling into his limp partner, his own legs are shaking in exertion and he begins to doubt his own ability to walk out the door after this. He gently pulls out, soothing with a hand down the other’s back as Jooheon hiccups at sudden emptiness.

He starts messily slurring Jia Er’s name, as he sets him down on the bed, arms still tightly looped around the ambassador’s neck. He continues to cling on, allowing Jia Er to easily reach around back and fumble with the corset knots. It might be comfortable enough to fuck in, but there’s no way he’s going to let Jooheon sleep in the now-permanently-stained corset. It takes awhile to undo everything with thick, amateur fingers, but Jia Er eventually gets it, pulling it open and up to the courtesan’s chest, forcing Jooheon to raise his linked arms from around his shoulders to let it slide over his head.

He immediately drops them back down though, clinging instinctively even as his eyes flutter shut. Jia Er tries laying the dozing man down, pulling what must be ruined covers over him, but Jooheon doesn’t show any signs of letting go. He doesn’t want to risk waking him up with excessive tugging, so he does the only thing he can think of.

Jia Er leans down, pressing a slow kiss against parted lips, which, even with the owner falling asleep, respond in full, until they’re moving in perfect tandem to each other. Finally, the familiar action seems to have relaxed the courtesan enough that he’s completely asleep, fingers tracing fast patterns down Jia Er’s neck as they plop softly against the bed.

Now is the time he should go, thinks Jia Er regretfully, as he brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of Jooheon’s peacefully dozing face. He can’t bring himself to do it though, to just get up and leave without any words. Even if Jooheon’s asleep, somehow saying goodbye to him out loud will lighten his guilty conscience.

“Sweet dreams, sleeping beauty,” he whispers, brushing back bangs gently to press a soft kiss to a smooth forehead. “Don’t forget about me, your most valued customer.” Jia Er strokes a cheek fondly, losing himself in the early morning moment before shaking himself out of it and forcefully stepping away from the bed.

He gathers his discarded clothing, slipping on stuffy shirts with a grimace and cringing at the feeling of dried come inside his pants. He’s definitely due for a wash before setting out for the royal court of his homeland tomorrow.

As he grabs the key and turns the doorknob of room 194 to leave for who knows how long, he can’t help but turn back and take in the sight before him one last time. The image of his love sleeping peacefully, face smooth and youthful with no worries chasing through his dreams, bare skin softly worshipped in the pale moonlight - Jia Er commits it to memory as best as he can, even as his heart cries out for him to go back and stay for just one day more.

“I’ll see you again,” comes with a softly clicking door, and Jooheon’s lips curve into a dimpled smile, the promise echoing unconsciously within him.

“A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks… No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person, we’re safe in our own paradise.”