#jongin ff

Last night I told you everything.

Last night, I blurted it out, suddenly careless and reckless with my tongue, because you were smiling. It was the kind of smile that feels warm from every angle, like suddenly being kissed by sunlight or touching candle wax after the flame has been extinguished. It was the kind of smile that made my heart feel too full, the swell of it pushing things out of me without my permission. When you smile, it’s always like this, but lately, I’ve been losing control over myself around you. I’m surrendering to you. I do not want to stop.

The words fell out of my mouth, fast and gleeful and desperate to touch your air, your skin, your lips. They fell out of my mouth, messy and disorganized - a lot like me, really - and so fast that I didn’t even know I was hurting you until I saw your eyes, crestfallen behind your grin as you collapsed into confusion. I know I should feel remorse for this, for all of it. For the words and the feeling and your anguish, and I do but only for part of the reason.

Hurting you, however small or large, feels like slitting my throat, a fast tear at the jugular that makes it hard to breathe or see past the horror. Like this, I bleed out until I am barren, a husk that has emptied itself for you, angry at itself and wishing for things to be fixed. Hurting you feels like tearing fissures in the terrain of your skin, making grooves and valleys where there should be none, and watching the pain quake you into something not have to be. Hurting you feels like destruction, like an unintentional oblivion, and I can’t forgive myself for any of it. Can’t but, mostly, don’t want to.

It’s hurting you that I hate, but I’m not sorry for saying the words. The thing is that they are the truth, and the thing is that they are so ingrained in my love for you that simply saying I love you feels like a lie if you don’t know the whole of it. This kind of love has been living a life, always, before I even knew it existed. This kind of love has been sitting in the back of my throat for centuries because it’s been growing. We’ve done this a hundred times, and we will do it again - I will do it again.

Here is what I said: The best part about time travel is that I always find you and get to love you.

What I meant to say is: I’ve been loving you since the dawn of time.

You have to remember that time is a human construct, it doesn’t actually exist unless someone is counting it. You have to remember that time is conceptual, always happening, always moving, always waiting to be touched. You have to remember that time only starts the moment you can perceive it - anything before doesn’t really exist unless you ruminate on it, unless you choose to let it.

What you have to remember is that time, for me, only started the moment I saw you.

1953 / 301 AD

I was born in 1936. Back then, the world was not quiet and we as people could no longer pretend that it was. That was standard, you know, ignoring the reality of things in favor of the pictures, the radio dramas, the neighbors and their new car. Back then, we couldn’t pretend things were okay, not anymore. The Depression was real, even as a child I could feel it in the way my mother opened the canned food, could feel it in the way the cake never tasted right. Did you know that was how boxed cakes came to fruition? Condensing ingredients to save women money and so the kids could at least say they had something remotely sweet. They’ve gotten better, I’ve found. You can’t taste the salt as much.

By the time I turned seventeen, the world was completely different - not just in the map, but in the mood. Things were different, but still there was pretense. Everywhere, people were trying to pretend the world wasn’t on the brink of death. We had an economy and we had surplus, but still we had fear. I guess that’s why I stopped thinking on time altogether, because no matter what we survived nothing, not even our way of life, would change.

Things were tense, I was tense. At that age, I’d already suffered through the terror, the trauma, and the horror of war. I was close to draft age, thought maybe the end of my life was coming. Admittedly, the precipice of it felt anticlimactic. I wasn’t mad that I hadn’t truly lived, just bitter in my acceptance of this reality. It seemed fitting, in a way.

But then, in the middle of an April heatwave, I felt myself start to fade.

It wasn’t the mental kind of fade, the rebellious teenage detachment or the withdrawn emotional recoil from the news and the papers. I mean the kind of fade that says you exist everywhere, everywhere and all at once. I was suddenly spread into little more than a veil, something easily passed through or ignored, an invisible being made of atoms and light and nothing else. My body was gone, as if I never had one, as if my bones were figments of my wasted imagination. For the first time, I was little more than a conscious, lost and screaming.

The world moved around me, slipped and fell apart in spirals around my fingers and I could hold on to nothing because there was nothing. I thought an atom bomb had gone off. I thought the world was ending.

When things reformed - I say things because how do you describe the act of being given a body? How can I explain the way the pavement became grassy plains filled with wild flowers? Intangible, imaginary things became a vivid reality and I didn't know how to react. All I could do was bend over and vomit, soiling this new Earth with things I didn't remember eating.

When things reformed, I saw you. Not this you, but the first one - my first one.

The first time I saw you, the world was small. Not the size of it but the scope of it, the perspective of it. To be fair, back then the world was probably bigger than it had ever been, vast, empty, and mostly uncharted. I guess in a way it was life that felt small, brief and volatile and aching to be lived into extremes.

To this day, I still am not quite sure what you were doing, but your toes were in the river water and you were laughing. There was no one else around but you were laughing and wet, and the simplicity of this moment suddenly made me feel like I was human. For the first time in my brief life, I felt like I was alive and living.

I stayed like that for a long while, a hundred feet away and aching to be close to you. I hated the space but I didn’t want to scare you. My clothes were alarming, I was sure. I didn’t know what had happened or why, but I knew the when was different from the where. You were in robes. They were white. I thought that was meant to be the colour of mourning, but then, maybe you just wanted to remake history with your bravery. You’ve done that a lot, you know, even though you don’t remember doing it.

Regardless, the point is that I had found you and I wanted to stay.

The point is that you were there.

The point is that I saw you.

The point is that you saw me, too.

I got pulled back to my time the second our eyes met and, in the middle of my lawn, I cried. I mean, really openly cried, let the tears fall freely because I knew I’d lost you. Something about you felt important. Something about you felt like you were mine, and without you there, smiling and laughing, the world felt like a void.

For two years, I tried to pull myself back to you. I thought about your face and your eyes and that river so often I even dreamed about them, over and over and over, until all I had to do was think about it before I fell asleep in order to be back in technicolour memory. You were lush and you were lucid, but you were lost.

Until, one day, you weren’t.

Until, one day, I found you.

1741 AD

The perfume smelled different on you, not really bad or good, just different - beyond beauty. Truthfully, it didn’t smell like clove, which is what I think the parfumier told you it was meant to be, or even like the roses you were handing out. You kept those in a basket tucked in the crook of your arm, away from your wrist and neck, as if they were trying to hide. Rather, it smelled like euphoria - or maybe that was me.

I think I got ahead of myself. Let me explain.

When I found you again, it was in the market square of Paris. Dirty, filthy, awful, truly, but wondrous in the way it bustled with activity. Like before, the first thing I saw when I was whole again was you, and again you were smiling. This time, you were wearing red. You had this red traveling cape that made you look like a fairy tale, and I couldn’t even say as much because I didn’t know if it had been written or published yet. Instead, I pretended I invented for you, that the story was mine, or ours, and the world had spent centuries telling the tale about how I, the wolf, found you and loved you into tiny pieces.

You said I looked strange, but you showed no fear. The way you looked at me felt like you were getting close, under my skin and into my marrow, learning my DNA so that you too could copy it. I let you in, let you stay there, swore to myself that you would never leave even if I faded away.

The parfumier thought I had money - laughable, really, because I had just come from a lecture and was emptying myself of all things necessary when I faded. He asked if you wanted to try the clove, said it would match your whim, and you let him spread it over your skin like butter. I was envious, then, of how he got to touch you so freely.

That day, I realized two things:

The first, is that colour is a brute force that means and implies too many intense things. Red is passion, red is fury, red is ownership. It demands something, demands love and demands devotion. You wore that shade all over your person like you were compelling me to submit, to kneel, and to beg. I wanted to. I didn’t care that the cobblestones were covered in piss, I just wanted you to feel proud.

The second, and I think this is most important - because it lasts throughout time - is that odor is persuasive beyond logic, language, and will. You take it in, you hold it, and you taste it. You feel it on your tongue with every movement of your lungs, and it overtakes your blood vessels. It arrests you, totally. You can’t deny it, you can’t eradicate it, you just let it.

You arrested me, totally. You have not stopped.

1252 AD

The third time I saw you, I had finally learned to do it on purpose. All I had to do was think of you, and there you were, but this time it was different.

The third time I saw you, I got stuck. I don’t know when I arrived but I know that by the time I left it had been a year. I haven’t forgiven myself for leaving. Just know, always, it was against my will.

The third time I saw you, we had to hide. That’s what I mean when I say it was different. This time, we couldn’t smile or pretend or say that I was odd. This time, I was a heretic. This time, we had to run.

In our current life, you ask why I wake up screaming, sometimes. It’s not because I’m dreaming, it’s not fucking sleep apnea, it’s because I’m remembering. A lot of me, the soft me, was lost during that year. Months in, I got used to running with blood under my fingernails, got used to seeing you with Godless eyes. Faith was leaving you, reminding you that loving me meant giving up paradise, or, at least, forcing yourself to redefine it. What I remember the most is the sound of swords and the sound of women crying or men dying. Honestly, they all sound the same, in the end.

When we found the hut on the outside bank of the woods, you started to cry. We hadn’t really slept for days, the floor of the forest hard and uncomfortable, animals refusing to be silent. Really, I think we told ourselves this was the problem. Really, it was the open space and the knowledge we would burn if we were found that kept us awake. It was easier to say it was the forest, more pleasant even if it wasn’t honest.

When we found the shack, you started to cry, the stress and the agony falling in hot streaks down your cheeks. I saw the whole of time in those tears, all the problems of the past and future spilling out and over to your skin and my fingers as I wiped them away. That night, I made love to you, felt like the only way we could stay together was by holding on to the flesh and bone of our bodies, loving each other raw until not even God could deny we were destiny. You cried when we found the shack and I cried after we came, hard and long into the crook of your shoulder while my shoulders shook with the thought of disappearing.

I’d been feeling the pull for days and didn’t know how to tell you. It seemed cruel and unfair, at the time, but looking back, all I did was leave you unprepared.

In a year, the worst year of my life, I built something beautiful with you, something I got to call mine. You loved me like a habit, without questions - I mean, really fucking loved me. You never asked questions or forced me to tell you anything, you just loved me with all of you like it was the only thing you knew how to do. How could I tell you I spent years doing the same, not just with all of you but, with every version of you?

I love every version of you because you love me the same way, with open arms and an open heart, making room for me whenever you are because you recognize me as yours, too.

When I faded back, I didn’t go back to my time, I arrived in 2014, lost and sobbing, and knowing that you were probably dead. They’d found us, wrapped in each other’s arms, wholly impossible, wholly in love, and wholly illegal. The found us and I disappeared.

I could not take you with me.

But, like always, you found me. You bought me a coffee. It took me another year to love this new you, and not the one who skinned rabbits to keep herself alive. It took you a year to love me into something less like an animal and more like a man. It took you a year to love me back into someone soft, someone who could say he loved you without filling with regret.

2017 AD

I was born in 1936 and you were not there, or maybe you were and instead I had to find the rest of you first. At seventeen, I discovered this gift or maybe I developed it, maybe it’s my genetic code or maybe there are others like me. I don’t know. I don’t really even care. The point is that I was seventeen the first time I saw you and now I don’t know how old I am, only that time moved the moment I saw your face. I know how I look, young and handsome and fittingly yours, but I know where I’ve been. No, that isn’t right. I know when I’ve been, and this means age is meaningless.

I know I’ve been loving you through, around, and within time. I love you in both a past and present tense, even a future tense, where language bends to make room for the shape of my affection. I have been loving every single version of you, every piece, because it is you and all of you loves me too. Again, that isn’t right. It’s not just all of you, it’s every you. Every me, every you, we fall in love as fast as breathing because it’s natural.

I think of us less as a linear progression of love and more as a circle. It doesn’t really matter where we end or we begin, we are an ouroboros of fervent ardor, consuming one another until I fade and we start again.

Last night, I told you everything.

Last night, you asked me to show you.

I’m telling you that I can, but I am also saying I won’t. Leaving means fading, and I’ve only just started to feel whole. Leaving means leaving you, and I can’t promise I’ll make it back.

You pout, stretching slightly as he rests between your legs and looks up at you. How can a man who did such devilish things to you last night look so sweet and innocent so early in the morning? “It was meant to be my reward and you took that away from me.” Jongin chuckles as he draws a line along your inner thigh and watches how you shiver at his touch.

Your lower half is uncovered, apart from where Jongin lays but the sheets are tangled around him, covering his waist with one knee peeking out from the mess of satin. Your clothes cover the apartment, from the front door through to the bedroom, clothing thrown carelessly as you stripped each other in a hurry to make it to the bed. The smashed vase in the hallway is evidence that Jongin couldn’t wait until the bedroom to have you against the wall and you pray that it wasn’t too expensive – though, it’ll be an expensive reminder of what he’s capable of.

You look down at him from your comfortable position in the large bed and chuckle at the mess you’ve made of his neck and back - like the mess he’s made of your own body. His back is covered in scratches, shoulders a little red from when you sunk your teeth into them to silence the screams that he soon encouraged because he wanted the neighbours to hear. His abdomen is littered with purple blossoms that trail below the belt but Jongin has given as much as he received; your neck, chest and thighs all bear his mark, all show his possessive nature despite knowing that you do not belong to him.

Not that he cares, he enjoys pretending that for today, you are his and he is yours.

“I’d say you were very much rewarded when I came in your mouth halfway home.” He smirks before lifting himself off you and rolling onto his back.

You playfully slap his arm and pout when he looks over at you. “That truly isn’t fair though, that was you who got to have the fun when I was the one who behaved herself all day.”

“I’m the one who had a raging hard-on that was literally painful to have.” He puffs out his cheeks and you giggle at how someone so sexy can be so cute. “Shall we place a bet?” You roll onto your side, placing a leg over his thigh and moving closer towards the body that seems to be like a human sun with how hot he is.

“I bet you’re a betting man.”

Jongin lets out a loud laugh and nods. “I am. I have a fun little toy, a vibrating egg, and if you can make us both a coffee without cumming or begging to cum then you can do whatever you want to me.”

You can’t help but laugh, the nerve of this man to think that he holds all the cards in his hand when you have a few aces up your sleeve. “Oh, Jongin.” Your tone is patronising and he looks at you with a quirk of a brow. “Don’t you think you’ve made enough requests? A blowjob while you’re speeding through the city, the roleplay of two lovers – which we are still playing the part of, I might add – and now, you think you can hold all this power in your hands while I go and make coffee like a good little girlfriend?” He nods slowly, the direction of where you are going with this not quite registering in his head. “How about I make a counter proposal? CEO’s love to make those, don’t they?”

You sit up, tracing a hand up and down his body and watching as goosebumps spread across the golden expanse of his abdomen. “I’m listening.” Jongin speaks slowly, looking at you with excitement and curiosity swimming in those gorgeous brown eyes of his.

“How about,” you kiss above his navel, “I tie you to the bed,” a flicker of the tongue against a sensitive nipple, “and have a vibrator against that pretty cock of yours.” You nip at his collarbone and he shivers with delight because the way you talk dirty does something to him, something he enjoys more than he’ll say. “If you manage to last while I play with the settings, then you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Whatever I want?” His voice is deep, raspy with need and you hum, nodding as you hover your lips over his. “That sounds like a challenge. You’re not going to make it easy.”

You wink. “Of course not, baby. I can’t have you thinking that this will be an easy win but I’m sure you’ve had many challenges and won them all, hmm?”

Jongin takes a moment, contemplating whether he should let you have your fun or if he should play dirty. He’s known for that, especially when it comes to women. His reputation speaks for itself and you’ve heard about the homme fatale CEO who has ruined more marriages than anyone you’ve ever known; Jongin takes what he wants, he doesn’t care who they belong to because when he’s finished with them – they only want him. He was once a professional dancer before building his company from the ground up and you know that his hips don’t lie but you also know – he’s not winning this by whispering a few sweet, seductive words in your ear to get what he wants.

“Uh uh,” you smile knowingly when he opens his mouth to speak. “You took my prize from me last night and you owe me this much.”

He rolls his eyes, wrapping you up in his arms and putting you on your back as he rolls on top of you. “What if I just take what I want?”

“Then, you’d be forfeiting and there’s no fun in that.”

“There’s no fun when my girlfriend isn’t letting me have my way.”

You kiss his chin and look up through your lashes. “Good thing that I’m nothing more than the escort you’ve asked to play the role then, isn’t it?” He huffs, rolling off you and you make your exit quickly, taking his silence as him agreeing to the bet. “Now, where is everything?”

It didn’t take you long to have everything you wanted: red, silk ribbons, a hands-free fleshlight and a vibrating cock ring with a remote control. You straddle Jongin’s waist and he runs his large hands over your thighs and rests them on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin while you place your palms on his chest and have a moment to appreciate the man underneath you.

His beautiful golden skin is littered with your marks, something that claims him as yours for a short period of time. His body is well toned and proportioned, a dancer’s physique with a waist that makes any woman envious. Everything about him, as you admire the way he looks, from his heated gaze down to the Adonis belt and trimmed pubic hair, screams desirable. Any one of the men you’ve been with, all nine of them, have been in their own looks and ways, desirable; but there is something about Jongin, about the way his eyes capture you in a trance, that makes you almost give everything up for him.

It’s dangerous, a man holding that much power without needing to utter a single word but you know that Jongin wields that power with pride.

“Well,” he breaks the spell, pulling you out of your daydream and back to the task at hand, “shall we begin or are you willing to give me what I want?”

“Maybe if you’re a good boy.” You tease, tapping him gently on the nose with your index finger and causing him to try to bite it.

You grab the ribbons and he allows you to tie his wrists to the headboard, eyes on you the entire time while you focus on making sure that the restraints aren’t damaging his skin, cutting off circulation or going to loosen from his struggles. “If you lean forward a little closer, I could almost suck on those delicious tits while you play the role of the dominating girlfriend.” He teases and you click your tongue. He leans forward, lips latching onto your nipple and you jolt from the slight tug of his teeth when he relaxes and you pull away. “I didn’t pay enough attention to those last night.”

“No.” You settle back onto his lap and trace your hands down his body, moving lower so that you’re on his knees and a hand able to wrap around his erect member. “You were too busy with your head between my legs and having me feel like I’m going to transcend to another plane with how good you are with your tongue.”

Licking his lips, Jongin indicates with his chin for you to come closer. “Maybe instead of going along with this bet, you could just sit on my face and I can see if I can get you to transcend.”

“That sounds like a forfeit, baby, don’t think you can handle what’s about to come?”

“I’m only wanting to play the giving boyfriend role properly.” He gasps when you begin to stroke him. You watch, satisfaction and pride swelling in your chest as Jongin’s pretty pink lips fall open and his eyes flutter for a moment at the feeling of your hand pumping him at a leisurely pace. “If you really want to play this game though,” he sucks air through his teeth, taking a moment to compose himself before looking at you, “I should assure you that I don’t like losing.”

You smile, leaning down and giving him a little kitten lick before reaching for the cock ring; Jongin’s hips lift, hoping for more attention but you are wanting to tease, drag this out for as long as possible before causing him to become putty in your hands. “I can assure you that I don’t plan on losing either, baby.” You chuckle when it seems to effectively shut him up the moment you turn the ring on, the lowest setting at first, and spit on his cock to add some lubrication. “Do you have lube?” You bat your eyelashes, a demure look on your face like you aren’t making his heart race, and Jongin throws his head back in frustration because he attempted to point - but his hands are restrained.

“In the drawer, next to the condoms.” You let him go, climbing off him and he lets out a low whine at the loss of contact.

Jongin’s self-restraint is hanging on by a thread because he wants to enjoy as much of his time with you as he can and he’s not going to achieve that by being tied to the bed. He manages to hold out though, the bet being a push in the right direction because he’s determined to win and turn the tables on you.

The thought of you tied to the bed, whimpering under his touch and begging for him to let you cum is a compelling thought.

The coolness of the gel makes him hiss slightly and you coo softly, making up for the slight uncomfortable chill by spreading it over his red, hard cock and bending down to lick the underside of the shaft. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to forgo the bet, have him at your mercy and play with him in ways that would ruin him for any other woman - though, you know if you were to do that, it would mean you lose and there’s a glint in Jongin’s eyes, one hidden under his desire, that tells you he would have you screaming for him to give you what you want.

“You know the rules.” You let him go and reach for the fleshlight, sliding it onto his cock before turning it on. “You cum before I get back with coffee, you lose.” You turn the ring onto the third setting, watching with delight as his cock twitches from the added stimulation and his toes curl.

“If I don’t, you know I’m going to pay you back for all of this with interest, right?” He grits out, rolling his hips in time with the fleshlight. “I’m going to make sure I’m all you’ll be able to think about for days after this.”

You giggle, sitting next to him on the bed now because you don’t want to disrupt the flow of suction the fleshlight has on him. You trace your lips along his abdomen, mouth against his neck, which he strains to give you access to, before placing your lips next to his ear. “I bet you say that to all the girls, honey.” Jongin growls out in frustration and you stand up, exaggerating the sway of your hips as you walk naked out of the room with the control in your hand.

You take your time, searching through the cupboards and boiling the jug. The remote sits on the counter next to two mugs and you hum to yourself as you look around his spacious apartment. You press the + button twice and hear a distant “fuck” coming from the direction of his bedroom; you don’t hear much else after that though, the sound of water boiling overpowering everything and as the jug grows louder, you increase the speed.

The moment the jug stops, the button clicking off, you quickly lower the speed down to 1 and chuckle at the image of Jongin in your head. His stomach tensed as he was so close to his release, teeth biting into the soft, swollen flesh of his bottom lip as he refused to make a sound and hands tightly holding onto the ribbon as he tried to free himself from the restraints. The moment the vibrations lessened, you imagine a lovely little whine being released, muscles relaxing as he slumps further into the mattress and you smile to yourself as you pour the water into the mugs.

Dating life would be so hard for either of you, the constant disappointment in bed would lead to infidelity and with Jongin’s reputation and your job, it just seems so much easier to deal with casual lovers rather than a committed relationship.

Deeming enough time having passed by, you increase the intensity of the vibrations as you lean against the bench and lazily stir the coffee, continuing to hum a happy tune to yourself. You shake your ass from side to side and begin to play with the vibration settings and speed; you know that it’ll be absolutely torturous for him but you are determined to win the prize that he so rudely took from you last night. You decide to make sure that your victory is secured by turning the vibration right up before grabbing the two mugs and remote, and making your way back to the bedroom.

The scene you walk into is sinfully delicious. The sounds he releases as his head is thrown back, mouth open and moaning loudly as he erratically thrusts into the air and inches closer towards his climax. His sun-kissed skin glistens with sweat and sunlight and you watch as his toes curl with the approaching orgasm and his biceps bulge from the tension of him trying to free himself with no success. The vibrations are faintly heard under the sounds of his sweet, sweet moans and you sip your coffee, watching as his toes curl, eyes clench shut and hips shaking in the air as he cums into the fleshlight and soon begins whining and twisting on the bed as the overstimulation set in.

“Stop,” he whines, “fuck, please.”

You almost clench your thighs together because the sound of his deep, sultry voice whining and begging as he begins to be pushed towards another orgasm. “God,” you shiver with delight, placing the coffees on the bedside table and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Maybe I’ll keep this as my prize.” You watch as his breathing grows heavy again, the intense vibrations mixed with the wonderful workings of the hands-free fleshlight bringing him closer and closer until he groans and throws his head back, shaking as his cum fills the silicon toy. “How does it feel?” You whisper as you trace a finger from one hip to the other and watch him react so sweetly to your touch that you wonder how far you could push him.

“It’s too much.” He whimpers, the stimulation beginning to border the pain side as his cock refuses to soften even though he’s already come twice. “Fuck, please, give me a break.” You take pity, turning off the ring and fleshlight before slowly pulling the toy off his cock. It’s weeping, hard and ready, even though he’s adamant he can’t take anymore.

“How would it feel to have my lips around your cock?” You give the head a kitten lick and he gasps, the shuddering release of his breath indicating that he may be more into this than he’s letting on. “How would it feel to have my pussy milking that cock? Watching you like this has made me so fucking wet.”

Jongin licks his lips, lifting his head slightly to look you in the eyes. “Give me a taste.” You raise an eyebrow, the power you currently have over him intoxicating you in a way that nothing else could. “Please, can I have a taste?”

You hum in satisfaction with his words, climbing onto the bed and straddling his head as you hover your dripping cunt over his hungry mouth. Lowering yourself down, Jongin licks you with the flat of his tongue and you sigh with delight. “I think I’ll take my victory like this.” You say as you reach forward and release his wrists from the silky restraints. “Riding your face until I scream.” Jongin wraps his arms around your thighs and gets to work, humming as he tastes how sweet you are and you just prepare yourself for the fun that’s about to ensue.

If he thinks that this is all you’re going to get from this – he’s sorely mistaken. You have zkdlin’s CEO at your mercy until the end of the day – you’re going to lap this victory up.

The evening air begins to cool the room but Jongin’s warmth keeps you from wrapping up in the sheets. His face is buried into your shoulder blades, his sticky, naked body pressed up against you as he sleeps soundly after the last few hours finally caught up with you both. You had taken that man for a spin that would remain a wonderful reminder of this adventure and conquest you were on. Sure, you may not have gotten anything fancy and spent the entire time in bed but you got the bragging rights of being the woman who got the Kim Jongin to submit and that’s a reward in itself.

Your phone dings and you wonder who it is, you have no more obligations to the men unless they want to set something else up but the message you get is surprising to you. It’s from Kim Junmyeon, asking you if you had thought about his offer. You ponder over the answer, not entirely sure what to do. On one hand, this can’t be your life forever, you have to eventually leave the job and even though you have the money, you refuse to rely on it; on the other hand, you very much like this job, if you did it for at least another four or five years, you’d easily be able to retire without a care in the world.

You click your tongue repeatedly in a thoughtful manner, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as you think about your reply. Jongin pulls you closer, kissing your shoulder before looking over at the phone in your hand. “Is he really serious about the job?” Jongin scoffs, rolling onto his back and you turn to look at him, abandoning the device for the moment.

“What, you don’t think I can do it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know the first thing about you other than whatever you’ve told me and how you sound when you cum.” You roll your eyes when Jongin’s lips pull into a shit eating grin. “It just seems like such a downgrade to go from this,” he waves a hand over himself, “to working at a school.”

You raise an eyebrow, a little annoyed that this man would have the audacity to have an opinion about what you should do with your life. “You have a better offer?”

“I normally do,” he laughs before looking at the annoyance clear in your eyes and letting it die down to a forced cough. “Come work for me. Come be my secretary.” You let out a laugh, knowing exactly what thoughts are crossing his mind. “Or, if you really want to work at the school, you could work in the dance department. I assume you work well with numbers; you know how to handle different people and your organisation skills would be something to rival.”

You nestle into Jongin’s embrace and chew the inside of your lip. There is so much to think about, so much to work out and a list of pros and cons to make but one thing is for sure – you aren’t making the decision tonight.

You pick up the phone and send Junmyeon an emoji blowing a kiss, telling him that you’ll think it over and let him know tomorrow evening. “He’s expecting an answer and you’re telling him to wait, bold move.” You grin, tossing your phone to the side and straddling Jongin’s waist, leaning down to kiss him.

“We have a few more hours of this fantasy of yours, shouldn’t let it go to waste.” He nods, pulling you in for a heated kiss as you begin to grind on him. The night isn’t over yet and if you’re going to change everything about your life – you’re going to make every second of this night count.

But what would tomorrow bring, what answer would you give? Remain living your life as a highly paid escort or work for an ex-client of yours and make a good, honest living? Whatever you choose, that’s tomorrow’s problem.

Profile:

It was over. Well and truly over.

You cried for days, weeks, you called him and he never answered, you still slept on the left side of the bed and you still cooked dinner for three. You felt every ounce of strength leave you whenever you crawled out of bed – whenever that was – and everything in this house reminded you of him. His smile haunted you whenever you closed your eyes, his scent still stained the pillows that he used, his laughter filled the silence and when you opened the fridge to try and eat something, you found a lone banana milk that was past its used by date and something inside you broke all over again.

You had to get rid of the memories. God, did you need to get rid of everything that reminded you of him.

That was when the whiskey came in handy, the burning maple taste running hot and smooth down your throat as you began to cry for a man who couldn’t care less about how you were. He didn’t care if your heart was broken, that you broke down at the sound of It’s You playing on the playlist, he never asked you if you were okay when he came and broke you time and time again – you meant nothing to him and it was time to erase everything that caused you pain.

The crackling of the flames is oddly relaxing, the warmth that grows into a burning sensation that matches the alcohol that you force down your throat, and the dancing orange hypnotises you into believing that the world around you hasn’t completely crumbled; that it was just the fireplace where you had thrown the photos, the letters and everything that reminds you of the pain you feel constantly. You don’t take your eyes off the photos curling up and the flames putting holes in it like a physical representation of the way your heart was destroyed. You don’t hear the sound of the door, focused purely on what’s in front of you, lifting the near-empty bottle to your lips as a soft sigh reaches your ears.

“What are you doing sitting in the dark?” He doesn’t turn on the lights, you can hear him shuffling around in the dark abyss that is your home.

His presence sits down next to you, he doesn’t reach out to touch you because he knows that you may not want to be touched but tonight – you crave it. You want to be held, to have your tears wiped from your cheeks and you want someone to tell you that everything will be okay when your heart begins to heal. How you’re meant to heal from something like this, you don’t know but if anyone could prove that it’ll be okay eventually, it would be Jongin.

He’s been there through it all. He’s been there through the good times; that night that he snuck you out of your two-storey house when you were 17 and you both broke into the school pool with a group of friends. He’s been there through the bad; that day when you just returned from overseas to find out that your dad had been in an accident, Jongin drove you to the hospital and stayed with you. Jongin has seen the ugly and stayed; he knew every pain you endured, every insecurity that resides in your heart and still stayed by your side even when others couldn’t do it anymore.

Kim Jongin was your constant. He was your first kiss, your first love and he was that reminder that this world isn’t as ugly, as bad, as it seems because an angel couldn’t possibly exist in that kind of world. Could they?

“Hey,” His deep voice is gentle, low, and concerned as he reaches over to stop you from drinking the last drops of whiskey. “Talk to me, I’m here.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you don’t put up a fight because you don’t have the energy to stop him from taking it away and downing the last mouthful. “What do you expect me to say?”

“That you need me, that my presence is welcomed so that I can finally wrap you up in my arms.”

That’s when you feel it, the dam breaking, the tears that you had tried so hard to stop from falling; one sentence from Jongin had everything coming to the surface and you leaned into his side, sobbing. “J-Jong-in.” His name cracks when you speak and he immediately wraps his arms around you and you shuffle closer, just to feel the safety that is his arms around you. “It hurts so much.” He shushes you, patting your head and turning so that you can crawl into his lap and he can cradle you into him, protecting you with everything he is.

“You’ve had a bit to drink, haven’t you?” You shrug and he couldn’t help that soft chuckle because that’s just like you, acting like a bottle of whiskey isn’t a big deal when in fact – you’re nuzzling into his shirt because your face is tingly. “Shall we get you to bed?” You nod, letting Jongin lift you up and walking behind you as you drag your feet to your room.

He tucks you in, brushing the hair out of your face and smiles at you as he sits on the edge of the bed. Neither of you speak for a moment; Jongin looks down at you, watching you as he caresses your face with a large hand and you blink slowly, wanting his comfort next to you instead of on the verge of leaving. “Stay,” your voice is soft, barely audible but with how Jongin smiles a little wider, you know he heard you.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You shake your head, grabbing his wrist to stop him from leaving you. “If you sleep on the couch, I’ll feel lonely and it’ll defeat the purpose of having you staying the night.”

Jongin gives you a little cocky smirk, he knows this is a serious situation but he can’t help but enjoy the gentle blush in your cheeks. “Where would I sleep then?”

“Wi-with me.”

You shuffle over and Jongin climbs in next to you, putting his arm under your head and encouraging you to curl into him. Jongin always smells nice, like the vanilla body wash that he uses mixed with his natural scent of faintly sweet spice. His heartbeat is gentle and calming as you rest your head on his chest and he wraps his arm around you, drawing random patterns on your bicep as he stares at the ceiling, trying to find the right words.

He hates seeing you like this. Seeing you so vulnerable and broken upsets him and Jongin wants nothing more than to show you that you are worth so much more than you believe right now.

“He never deserved your love.” He starts, keeping his breathing steady as he searches for how to express himself. “He doesn’t deserve your tears; he never did anything but hurt you and you still wish things were different. I know you’ll tell me that I won’t understand because I’ve never loved someone the way you loved him but you’re wrong because I love you. I love you more than you ever loved him and it killed me every time I was forced to watch as you spent years changing yourself for him. You lost weight because he told you that he wanted you to look a certain way, he never did give you the same attention as those girls he would see in the club. There was a period of time where you refused to see me because he didn’t like our friendship and I respected you enough to stay away even when I didn’t agree – he never stopped seeing his exes while you waited up for him every night.” You begin to sob, remembering everything that your ex did to you and how foolish you must have looked to anyone on the outside. “You isolated yourself while he partied. You even tried to fit into his family despite the fact that they hated you. You would buy him everything he wanted while he never spent a dime on you. I was there the first time he hit you, the first time you broke up. I was there when you went through the pregnancy alone, I cut her cord and held her while you cried silently because the man who should have been there was in someone else’s bed.” The tears begin to dampen his shirt and Jongin lets out a shaky breath, looking at you with so much love and adoration in his eyes, the pain of seeing you like this and the anger that he feels for the one who treated you like this.

“Jongin…”

“I’ll be there, through every moment, like I always have been. Every birthday, every bad day and Christmas. I’ll support you in every way I can because that’s what you are worth – I need you to see that, to know that.” His words make you cry more because how could you have been so blind to what was right in front you. “Even if right now I have the worst timing in the world, I want you to know that there isn’t anyone else in this world for me. I don’t need to build a family, I don’t need to find someone to settle down with, I have everything I could ever want with you – with Nia.”

Jongin turns your face upwards, tilting your chin and looking into your eyes. The faint light from the street through the open curtains allows him to see the tears still falling from your glistening eyes and you can see the melancholy in his expression.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, breath fanning over your face and smelling of mint mixed with the last remnants of the bottle you were nursing when he arrived. “How can you not see it?”

“Jongin…” Your voice cracks slightly and he sighs.

His face gets closer, his dark eyes never leaving yours and your breath hitches as his lips inch towards yours. “I love you.” You can feel his soft, plush lips brushing over yours. Your heart is racing and you’re distracted enough to wonder if he can feel it against his side. “Please, let me show you how much I love you.” You don’t say a word, you don’t push him away either when his lips press ever so gently against yours in a brief, fleeting kiss and he pulls away almost as slowly as he had kissed you.

He waits, he waits for you to tell him no or that you’re not ready. Jongin knows that if he goes further then it may not be anything more than a rebound but he needs you to know the depth of his love for you. This isn’t him showing pity, him feeling sorry for you - this is him taking the chance to heal your broken heart by wrapping it in his love.

“It’s okay,” A hint of reassurance, something he never expected to hear from you but it makes his heartbeat match yours. “I- I want to know what it feels like to be loved by you…” You blush because this may be the alcohol talking but you also know that it’s the truth. You’ve always said that Jongin would make a wonderful father, husband, lover to anyone who was lucky enough to be loved by him and here he is, telling you that it’s you that he loves.

Maybe, just for tonight, it wouldn’t be wrong to allow yourself a chance to be loved in such an intimate and raw way by someone who only wants to cherish you.

Jongin kisses you with everything he has, kissing you in such a way that it steals your breath away while simultaneously giving you life. His lips are experimental, testing the waters to find and learn the way you like to kiss before his tongue teases your lips apart, coaxing your shy tongue out to meet him. It’s slow, sensual and the little noises that Jongin makes sends little tingles down to your core. A hand rests on your cheek and he eases you onto your back, moving to hover over you and resting his weight on his elbows.

Fingers shyly move under his shirt, tracing over the muscles of his toned abdomen and up towards his head. The shirt reveals more of his body as you take your time exploring his body and he takes his time learning every inch of the inside of your mouth. Soon, the shirt is removed and Jongin helps you remove your loose, stretched-out night shirt. He’s never seen you look so beautiful, so vulnerable as your breasts show the effects of being a mother and your body was marked with the tell-tale signs of having carried.

“This probably sounds really bad…” He licks his lips, sitting on his knees as you lean back on your hands. He traces your kiss-swollen lips with his thumb before sliding the hand to graze over your erect nipple and cupping your breast with his large hand. He smiles softly because it fits so well in his hand and he knows that it was something you always felt self-conscious about – after your ex told you that you should get implants so they were bigger. “But I think you look so sexy like this.”

You scoff, looking away because the intensity of his stare makes you a little nervous. “Stretch marks, saggy tits and a mum tum that refuses to leave?”

“No.” He is a little quick to answer and you look at him, his blush burning his ears because he didn’t mean to sound so annoyed. “I mean that being able to see you, to have you allow me to see you like this, it’s so beautiful. Raw, real and untouched.” Jongin encourages you to lie down, kissing his way down your body and making sure you feel everything he feels.

He wants to engrave his love into your skin, cover you in the beauty that he sees in you so that when you wake up and look in the mirror, you’ll see what he sees. He wants to take his time with you, learning what you enjoy, learning how to please you and hear every sweet noise that you can make. Jongin doesn’t care about whether you can return his love tonight or not, he doesn’t care about what insecurities and baggage comes with loving you because he will take it all; he will hold you every night, whisper his love into the still of the night and scream it from the rooftops every morning.

Most of all, Jongin would slowly fix every crack in your heart with gold.

He will build you up, worship everything that you are and stand beside no matter what life throws your way. He’ll be whatever you wanted him to be; a friend, a lover, a father and he will never ask anything more from you than you are willing to give him.

You gasp when he kisses your lower lips, as passionately as he had kissed your breath away. Jongin takes his time, using his tongue in such a magical way that has your fingers curling in his soft brown hair as your back arches and head falls softly onto the pillows and soft mewls fall from your lips. Your mind is reeling from the mix of alcohol, the emotions stirring inside you and the arousal that caused a tingling in your toes.

Jongin had once told you that he considered oral as one of the most intimate acts a man could do to their female partner. He never really explained why he thought that but with his head between your legs, tongue expertly giving you pleasure as he hums in delight at how you taste, you feel it. The rush you are given when the high of your first orgasm takes you is euphoric, a cry of his name echoes in the quiet room as he continues to work you through it until your body relaxes and he pulls away with a pleased grin. “How are you feeling?” You are lost for words when Jongin kisses his way back up your body, one hand resting beside your head and the other slowly rubbing your tingling core.

“Jongin…”

“I love it when you say my name.” He smiles, looking you in the eyes and you aren’t sure why you never saw it before. There’s a faint twinkle that resides in those beautiful brown eyes, one that shines a little brighter whenever he looks at you. His smile seems more relaxed, genuine, when it’s because of you. You must have been blind because Jongin loves you in such a real, deep, intimate way that anything else pales in comparison to it.

You never truly knew love because it wasn’t Jongin who gave it to you.

“I’m scared…” You lick your lips, touching his cheek and he moves his head further into your touch. “You’ve been everything, my rock, Nia’s father figure, and everything that could go in between all of that. I’m scared that if we do this, it’ll change everything.”

He kisses you, a soft peck on the lips before falling next to you and pulling you into him. “We can take it slow.” He kisses your forehead and wraps you up tightly in his embrace. “We don’t have to be dating tomorrow, I’m not going to propose and I won’t expect Nia to call me Dad any time soon. I don’t want to feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to do. I will be everything you want me to be but I will do everything in my power to prove to you every day that you deserve the love I have to offer. When you fall, I’ll pick you up and support you. I’m not going anywhere – not unless you want me to.”

A silent tear is shed as he speaks and you nod, not trusting yourself to speak because what would you say to him that could possibly tell him how much this means to you?