#killer couple

It’s unnervingly easy to get used to, having another person in his space despite his years of solitude and purposely pushing others away. Women had tried to sleep over before, sweat clinging to their naked skin as they coyly brushed a finger under the sheet trying to entice him to let them stay. It never worked. Not once. Sex was one thing- he loved being in control and hearing his name breathless on their lips as they writhed and screamed on his silk sheets- but sleeping over was a completely different animal and he was never stupid enough to give them that much leeway. It was dangerous for them to think this was something more than it was, he had an itch and they could scratch it. There were no feelings involved, at least from his end. 

So when she showed up on his doorsteps and the urge to drag her into his arms overwhelmed him that should have been his first warning, danger danger do not proceed. 

But she pushed past him before he could close the door in her face and unfortunately at the same moment he had a spasm in his hand and hesitated for just one second allowing her enough time to bulldoze her way into his apartment. He had contemplated kicking her still out but the look on her face stopped him in his tracks, she looked scared- ridiculously so. Even as she stuttered out nonsense about the suspicious hoteliers who wanted to harm her and made a show of swinging her bag as she told the story of the man breaking the lock on her hotel room, he could see the slight tremble in her fingers. 

She was always a lightning rod of energy but that night it had been different. Her movements had been panicked and the urge to protect her overrode his self preservation. 

It was a clear erroneous mistake on his part. 

She’s comfortable around him, that much becomes clear all too fast when he wakes up to her swaying in the kitchen over a boiling pot on the stove- some kind of soup, he can smell the aroma of miso wafting across the room- but what catches his attention is her clothes, or lack of. 

There is miles and miles of bare skin from his angle on the ground, her loose sleep shorts barely covering her legs and he raises an eyebrow as he takes in the top half of her body. Her wet hair drips onto the flowing pristine white shirt that is peeking out from beneath a cardigan. She’s taken a shower. Just moments ago, she had been naked in his shower, water cascading down her slim body curving over her breasts and sliding down her flat stomach in long slow streams until it reached her wet....

“Oh you’re awake! I made soup, let’s eat before work.” She brightly calls out to him, using his ragged oven mittens to transfer the steaming pot over to the low rising table in the center of his tiny living room. 

His eyes savor her every move as she flounces over to him in that annoying way that he is starting to find cute. She carefully folds her legs beneath her bottom as she joins him on the ground, her smooth makeup free face coming into his line of vision. He’d always assumed that it was her lip tint making her mouth so red and plush and so goddamn alluring, but even bare the twin petals are too much for his sleep laden brain to handle. He sits up curling his blanket in his lap, balling up the material to better hide his little morning problem. He almost hopes this is a dream, it wouldn’t be the first time she visited him in one. They usually ended in sinuous screams and naked limbs twisting but sometimes they were like this, just simple moments that made him wake up with an ache in his chest. Those dreams terrified him the most. 

“Yah! Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Her voice cuts through the arousal thick fog in his brain, light pats on his cheek rousing him from his untoward thoughts. “What are you thinking about anyway? Why are you so distracted?” Her eyes narrow as she glances at him, slowly descending down his body almost reaching his groin and he flushes red coughing loudly before quickly moving closer to the table, hiding his lap entirely from her wandering eyes. 

Their eyes meet in a tense lock and she looks curious and something darker that he has been seeing in her eyes the more they work together. He watches swallowing a groan as she leisurely licks her lips chasing the drops of soup that have escaped. 

They don’t have time for this. There is so much to do and a part of him fears that she is using him as a distraction because she’s scared about her break-in, despite his constant warnings it had been her first real experience with how far Babel was willing to go to silence them, the first time she was in the line of fire. He had been her “hero” and that was evidently confusing her, making her think he was something better than he was. Contrary to the lie he had cowardly told her, he was nothing but a murderer. Once she saw him for what he truly was, she would want nothing to do with him- she was still a good person after all underneath her armor and brazen attitude. 

He wants her and that is exactly why he can’t have her. 

Those thoughts knock any desire promptly out of his body, he couldn’t forget that he wasn’t worthy of love. 

Problem finally resolved he stands up, “Sorry I’m not a morning person. I need to use the bathroom, thank you for the breakfast. I’ll be back.” He can feel her eyes on him the entire way to the bathroom, those huge doe-like eyes that make him want to be a better man, but surely it’s too late for someone like him. 

Right? 

They had separated after work, him meeting up with Mr. Cho secretly to discuss the fate of the gold, it was another long conversation that left them with more complications rather than solutions and he can see the frustration on the other man’s face. He will have to keep an eye on that in case it becomes something problematic. 

Something he has to handle, regrettably. 

He yanks at the stiff ball of his necktie loosening it as he pushes his key into the lock and presses the door open, he hears her laughter before he sees her almost tripping on her black high heels carelessly discarded at the door. He pauses with a rumble, “First she breaks into my house and now she almost kills me at my own front door,” with a sigh he straightens the shoes, slipping off his own and stepping into his house slippers. 

His heart lurches at the first sight of her, she’s wrapped up in the blanket he had placed around her quivering shoulders the night of the break in, only her head visible from the swaddle. She’s watching some variety show he has never watched but knows is popular here, a can of beer thankfully on a coaster on the table and too many empty bottles of soju. She turns to look at him when she senses his presence, that also disarms him because he is a man who can go undetected if he pleases and he had not made a sound upon his entry, yet she still knew he was here. 

Then she makes him weak in the knees when she shoots a soft smile his way, her rosy lips slightly upturned but its the glow in her eyes that captivates him, those dark orbs come to life when they land on him as if they were waiting for him to flush with life and vibrancy. 

“You’re home!” She calls out, still beaming at him and he stands frozen in the line of fire. She casually pats the cushion next to her, motioning him over as high pitched loud voices patter out from his TV. 

Home. He has hardly ever used that word himself, long given up on the idea of having a place to call home. But seeing her like this, a fire that had been snuffed out a long time ago starts to rekindle, a desire he had long suppressed starts to bubble back to the surface. 

I should leave. 

He thinks foolishly, but he finds himself walking over to her, skin pebbling when a warm small hand reaches out and drags him the rest of the way from his suspended form.  

“What took you so long? Why didn’t you answer my calls? I wanted you to get us some soju.” She snuggles into his arm as if this is normal for them, and with an urgent awakening he realizes that it is. Constant and casual touches flash in his memory, his hand on her shoulder as he escorts her way, her hands on his back as she carries his intoxicated body, arms wrapped around each other as they walk away from the scum that is Babel. His hands always find her body as if it’s a heat seeking missile and not once has she pushed him away, on contrary she moves into his touches and returns them just as frequently. As if they belong to each other, as if they are each other’s to touch. 

What game exactly are they playing? 

He has never lost before but suddenly it feels like his defeat is imminent. 

“You already drank all the soju in the fridge? Are you an alcoholic? Should I have you admitted?” He grumbles trying to diffuse the situation but she chuckles at his words, resting her head on his shoulder now as she peers up at him with glossy eyes. His control wavers, fluttering like a flag in the wind. 

“After everything I’ve done that’s the thing you want to get me admitted for?” She teases giggling into his collarbone and her breath ignites a flame on his skin that spreads like wildfire. “Oh. Why are you so red?” 

He jolts up, only feeling marginally guilty when she falls head first onto the couch with his sudden disappearance. When she glares up at him he has to smother a smile at the cute affronted look on her face, he is a mafia member he shouldn’t use words like “cute” but he’s constantly breaking his rules because of her. 

He escapes to his bedroom, surprisingly pigeon feather free the window securely closed for once and he looks back towards the living room with a smile, she was full of surprises. With a groan he pops his shoulder, letting the day’s tension melt away as he takes off his suit piece by piece, breathing easier when he unknots the tie and tosses it to his bed. When he is down to his boxers, he ambles over to his dresser taking out his silk pajamas- she loved to tease him about them but after running a sneaky hand over his arm, she has admitted that they felt nice on your skin- he had desperately wanted her to keep going. Dragging the bottoms on first he slides on the top, fingers on the top button when his bedroom door bursts open making him still his movement. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that I ordered fried chicken that’s why I needed soj...nnngghh” her words trail off into nonsense as she sputters at him, eyes immediately locked on the lower half of his body and he almost laughs at her wide eyed stare before she walks closer, a hand outreached as she penetrates his skin with her unblinking stare. He can see the red blush spread across her bridge of her nose and he wonders if it’s from the alcohol she has consumed or if it’s something else? 

She answers his questions with another step toward him, unflinching beneath his hard stare and he instinctively recoils, stepping back out of her reach but she double steps until they are inches apart, her fingertips hovering above his abs and then she closes the distance, stroking the ridges on his stomach making him groan, unable to contain the deep sound and he grabs her hand. 

He can’t let his go any further. 

“What are you doing? Haven’t you heard of knocking? What if I was naked?” 

The blush covers her face completely at his words and he watches fascinated as her pupils dilate and a hungry look flashes across her pretty face. 

She doesn’t look scandalized at the idea. He has seen that look many times. From her, more times than he wants to confront. 

“Cha-young.” He states her name firmly, making her eyes snap away from his body at least this time she looks ashamed of herself for ogling him, but not tremendously so. It’s not lost on him that she hasn’t tried to leave the room once. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”  

It’s a warning. For both of them really. 

It can tell by the twitch in her eyebrow she sees it as a challenge, without a word she grabs him by his shoulder tugging him closer until they are flush, her soft breasts pressing into his firm stomach and he groans when he realizes he can feel the flesh too vividly, she’s not wearing bra. Fuck. 

“Who said I couldn’t finish it?” She retorts peering up at him with those gleaming eyes, too many emotions swirling around for him to pinpoint what is the driving force behind her actions.

His arms wrap around her waist, bringing her closer despite there being no room felt to do so. She moans prettily at his tight grip swaying unevenly into him. 

She’s drunk. 

He suddenly recalls all the empty bottles of soju on the table and he loosens his hold, he refuses to take advantage of her no matter how willing she seems right now, it’s the alcohol distorting her thoughts. He releases her waist and puts his hands between them. 

“You aren’t in your right mind right now, we should stop.” 

She shakes her head disagreeing, “I got drunk because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. The alcohol didn’t make me want you, it made me do something about it.” 

He blinks at the comment feeling like her words are intoxicating him. His thoughts are incoherent. 

“I know you want me too. Don’t push me away.” She pleads and he feels his resolve crumbling as he watches her bite at her lower lip, wringing her hands between them. She seems...nervous. Scared of his rejection. 

It’s not fitting on the Cha-young he has grown to know and l...like. 

With a sigh he steps forward much to her apparent shock, wrapping his arms around her in an awkward hug, complete with too rough pats on her back and he wonders if he did the right thing when she stands frozen in his arms but then she laughs brokenly before sniffling and burrowing her head into his chest. He can feel the wetness pooling on his skin, he hugs her tighter ignoring the voice in his head warning him that he’s letting her get too close.

it’s already much too late anyway. 

He lets her cry on him until he hears admittedly gross sniffles and he starts to fear for his skin, tears are one thing but mucus is another. He might like her but there is still a line, snot is his line. 

Thankfully, when he drags her away from him her nose isn’t running, just large tears streaming down her face. Looking at that face, he would probably allow her to drip snot on him; she looks so pitiful- it’s probably the first time she has allowed herself to feel her emotions and not put on a brave front for him. 

He longs to tell her that it isn’t necessary, ever. He doesn’t need her to put on a show, he will accept her no matter what there is no version of her that isn’t perfectly imperfect in his eyes. 

But he can never say those words to her. 

“Let me put my shirt on and I’ll meet you in the living room.” He pushes her lightly, playfully glaring and shooing her away when she doesn’t immediately leave taking one final moment to ogle his body. He tries not to preen and fails horribly, it’s hard not to when the woman he wants so badly clearly wants him too- at least physically. 

She whispers something that sounds like, “You don't have to,” and he raises an eyebrow watching her leave finally, with a long suffering sigh he stares down at his overly interested friend willing it away before dragging on his shirt. 

it’s going to be a long night. 

He can smell the delicious aroma of fried chicken when he finally exits the bedroom, she offers a leg to him as soon as he’s close enough and he easily accepts the food with a bite, letting her feed him until all that remains is the bone. 

“You eat so well.” She praises and he flushes in embarrassment at her words, or more accurately at the feeling that swells up in his stomach at her deceptively maternal words. Unaware of his thoughts she continues feeding him until the food is all gone and she is looking at him with a satisfied grin. 

He tries not to become too excited when she licks the grease from her fingers, before putting the bones on a plate. 

“Here, have some wine. The storekeeper said it was popular in Italy.” 

She places the rounded curve of the wine glass at his lip and he inhales the intoxicating scent, Barolo, he can already smell the sweetness of the Nebbiolo grapes that have been long fermenting, it’s not a cheap bottle of wine or easy to acquire, not even for him while living in their country of origin. She must have looked all over to find that particular brand here in Korea. 

He stares at her with a softness he has never felt for another, not even her late father. This is bigger and more consuming, the respect he felt for the man seems to pale in comparison to the bundle of emotions he feels for his daughter. 

“Thank you.” 

She simply stares, before returning his gaze and he accepts the wine glass by the stem tipping the deep colored liquid into his mouth, flavors dancing on his taste buds and he moans freely at the delicious taste. 

They are already sitting closely, too much so for just coworkers but she moves nearer at his subconscious response, their knees knock into each other. 

“Is it that good?” She whispers breathless, staring at his mouth. Again. 

He nods dumbly, freezing when he feels her hand on his thigh. 

“Let me see.” 

He watches in a daze as she leans closer to him, his eyes following her face as she draws nearer and then he closes his eyes, tired of fighting this magnetic connection between them, he’s only a man and a bad one at that, he’s not good enough to keep pushing her away. He waits impatiently to feel the swell of her lips on his and blinks his eyes open when he feels a sudden weight on the wine glass instead, her lips curl around the ridge where his lips had just been. Taking his hand in hers, she lifts the glass and tilts it back into her mouth swallowing the liquid in a deep gulp before she pushes it back towards him, with a loud smack of her lips before moving back to her spot on the cushion. 

“Mmmmm, you’re right that’s really good.” 

His tongue is heavy in his mouth and his brain isn’t functioning well enough to give a response beyond staring at her with his mouth gaped. 

“What’s wrong were you expecting something else? Did I get your hopes up? It’s not nice is it? ” She teases obnoxiously tsking at him body loose on the arm rest opposite of him and he knows exactly what she’s alluding to, recalls her face as he had leaned across the small space of the car. She hadn’t looked scandalized in that moment either. 

No, she looked ready to risk it all. He was the coward who couldn’t risk anything. 

He leans back with a huff, folding his arms. 

“I guess it’s true, revenge is a dish best served cold. Do you feel good about yourself?” He pushes his lips out, not pouting whatsoever. 

Mafia men don’t pout. 

She snickers from the left of him, poking at this cheek gleefully. 

“Oh my god, are you pouting? You big baby! You did it to me first!” 

He has no argument to that so he doesn’t refute the claim, he just silently glares at the tv not hearing anything despite the volume being quite loud. 

“Next time let’s both be brave enough to finish what we started.” 

He turns to look at her, blinded by the hopeful smile on her face. 

Maybe he’s wrong and it’s more than physical for her too. 

If that’s true, then he needs to sever this bond sooner rather than later. 

He doesn’t reply to her, drinking more wine to occupy his mouth and she doesn’t push him, humming before turning her attention back to the tv. 

He collects all her different laughs while they watch the mindless show, the soft giggles and the full body guffaws that make her slap his knee and spill over into his space, her long hair thrown across his lap. He gives up on stopping her and finds himself smiling at her joy, offering her water when she starts to choke from laughing too hard. He pats her back and rubs her until she can speak easily again, she’s seriously a hazard to herself and he tells her as much. 

She cheekily replies, “That’s why I need you then, you’re my Italian hero.” 

He refutes that claim but he knows that she’s right, he would destroy anyone who tried to harm one hair on her head. 

Moments later when he hears her light snores, he turns the tv off and makes to stand up and put some much needed distance between them but she halts him with a gentle plea, “Don’t leave me alone please.” 

He stills at her words, staring at her closed eyes praying that she’s dreaming about someone else. That those words aren’t for him, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to ignore her appeal. 

When her head falls heavily on his shoulder again, her body distractingly warm pressed against his own he knows he should push her away it’s the only way they can both get out of this unscathed. 

But his decision making is all but obliterated, so he stupidly leans his head onto hers, deeply inhaling the sweet vanilla of her shampoo instead, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer, dragging the blanket over both their bodies, silencing his heart when it jumps at her easily molding into him and softly murmuring his name from deep slumber, “Vincenzo.” 

Just for tonight, he will let himself have this. 

One night only.