#~requests

The first time you saw him was when he walked inside the diner you worked at. It was a small place just outside of Seoul, a hidden sort of gem only locals really visited.

He caught your eye, and handsome and stern as he looked, you couldn't look away. That and the fact that you hadn't recalled ever seeing him before. He was dressed all in black - It almost looked like a costume in some thriller or action movie. His hair was slicked back, and he appeared, in his dark mood and seriousness, a little intimidating.

You attended to him, taking his food and drink order. He avoided looking much at you and mostly responded in short single syllable answers or nods.

"Bad day?" you finally asked, as you arrived to collect the plates at the end of his meal.

Maybe you shouldn't have asked, but then again, maybe he needed someone to.

He finally looked up at you, and you realized you were right. It was either bad day, or bad life. He, handsome and perfect as he appeared, looked absolutely haunted.

"No," he replied. "It's just another day."

A small smile crept on his face but it didn't quite reach his eyes. It appeared he was upset about something but keeping his guard up.

"Thanks for asking."

You assumed he really did appreciate the gesture so you smiled and bowed slightly in return.

"Well, the food's complimentary today. It's on the house," you said, feeling both generous and a little bad for him.

"It's not necessary."

"No, really. Don't worry about it. Take it as an invitation to come back another time."

"I will."

When he finished what was left of his warm drink, you saw him leave some cash and make his way to the exit. You were shocked to see he left a huge amount of cash for a tip - tipping itself was uncommon around these parts, much less such an extravagant amount of money. It was more than what you earned in a week.

"Wait! Hey!" You said running to him as she left out the foor. You chased him outside, cash in hand.

"Sir!"

He stopped in his tracks, his back to you.

"Sir -- I can't take this. Even if you wanted to pay for the meal - You gave me too much money."

"I didn't," he said sternly, turning to look back at you without making eye contact. "Take it. Please. It's yours."

And that was the start of everything.

You saw In-ho at least once a week at the diner. He knew your name by now and always asked for you. He even waved if he caught your eye when he first entered the place. He was starting to smile more. Although he always looked haunted.

You were always happy to see him and looked forward to it, even. It was not a surprise to you (or to some of your coworkers, who had caught on by then) that your initial attraction to him had turned into a small crush.

One day he managed to be more forward than you had ever anticipated.

"Is there anything else I can bring you?" you asked after he finished his meal.

"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" he asked instead.

"No, go right ahead."

"I know you're not married since you don't have a ring on your finger. Do you have a boyfriend?...Or girlfriend?" he considered.

"No," you chuckled suddenly a little nervous. "No, I don't. Do you?"

"I had a wife," he said after a moment. "She used to come here sometimes."

"Oh..." you said. "Maybe I met her then."

As absurd as you knew it was, something like jealousy or sadness coursed through you at the thought that maybe he visited regularly to think of her - not to see you.

You wondered what happened between them, or to her...

"I've had people I cared about," he continued. And there it was again. That haunted look. "But that was a long time ago..."

"Oh," you replied, not knowing where to go from there. But you worried you had made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry-"

"When is your shift over?" he asked suddenly.

Yours eyes widened as his gaze met yours. Was he going to ask you out?

"Oh, uh-" you stuttered a bit in your surprise. "In about two hours."

"Can I treat you to something then?"

"Sure," you smiled. And he responded to it with a small smile of his own.

"I'll see you again in two hours then," he said.

That evening, you both went for a walk in the park and for a few drinks. You made small talk - about the city, the weather, the news recently. As the sun set, the weather had cooled down a bit. He put his jacket over you and offered to walk you home.

At the doorstep of your place, he leaned in and kissed you. Softly. Innocently. That was the end of your first date.

A few days after that, you saw him again after work. He took you to his place for dinner that he had cooked himself for you. That night, when he kissed you, it wasn't so innocent anymore, and you were urgent with desire by the time he had his hands on you and took you to his bedroom.

There was so much you didn't know about him even if he had by then confessed to certain things about his personal life he likely hadn't told anyone else. You knew his wife had passed, you knew he made a lot of money, you knew he had some estranged family. You didn't know about his job, you didn't know what he did on his time off. Even his home looked barely lived in, like a model home.

It was hard to deny the connection and attraction you felt with him had you insatiable and melting into his every touch. And you caved then, gave into him even if it was just for the night. Maybe, you considered, it would be the last time you ever saw him. Every moment with him sometimes felt like that for some reason.

But you didn't care. And it wasn't.

The mutually beneficial relationship you had with In-ho lasted longer than you ever thought it would. You didn't know how official it even was - you both didn't even speak daily, but you were content and fine with the arrangement. After a few months he even gave you the key to his seemingly barely lived in home so you could show up if he asked.

One day in particular you got a strange call from him.

"I know this is last minute," he sighed on the other end of the line. "I need you to meet me at my place tonight."

"Sure. What time? I'm off at 6."

"Anytime after your shift."

"I'll be there."

And you were.

You hurried to his place after making a quick stop at yours to get ready. You decided to indulge in extra dramatics that day, wearing lacy white lingerie with matching heels. You wore a silky white robe as you waited for him at his home, setting up a nice arrangement of wine and candles in the living room. He had sounded a little rough over the phone so you figured it might make his day to be treated to.

But you were left waiting for hours - the candles were almost completely burned down, and you were starting to feel stupid in lacy underwear and your hair and makeup done. A little annoyed even.

You opened the wine bottle and had a cup of wine without him. He wasn't even answering the phone.

You even figured you should just leave, but you quickly brushed off the thought. No, it must be something important that was keeping him. He really wanted you there if he called so last minute. Over the phone he had sounded more solemn and desperate than his usual.

You'd stay and wait. Worst case scenario, you'd stay over, and he'd have to sleep next to you and deal with it.

It had gotten so late that after another hour or so you eventually fell asleep on the couch. You had started to dream until you were woken by the sound of thunder, and the creak of the door opening.

A storm must be on its way. All the lights were off, except for the dim glow of three of the candles that had not completely melted away yet.

You froze in terror when you saw a dark outline of a tall figure dressed in all black. A masked, hooded figure. Still, watching.

They were quiet- too quiet. For a moment you almost thought you were hallucinating.

Was it In-ho? Or did someone break in?

Your mind assumed the second.

The door closed behind him, and you stood up, eyes wide and mouth dry with nothing but the taste of wine. You swallowed hard. Stupid freeze response. You blinked, looking down at the tapered candle holder on the table. You grabbed it as it was the only thing near you that had any potential to be a weapon.

"Get away from me," you said shakily, in fear. "Get out, or I swear I will -"

"Hit me with a candle holder?" His voice sounded off.

He stepped towards you but stopped a few feet away.

"It's me," he said. His voice sounded off, but somehow...

"In-ho?" you asked.

He removed his mask then, revealing himself, and you noticed he looked almost exactly as he had when you first met him. He was all in black. More collected, his hair polished, and wearing a stern expression. Still haunted.

"What the hell? Are you trying to scare me to death?"

He ignored your annoyed statement, the blank look still on his face. He finished up the glass of the wine you had left on the table. Then he placed the glass down and looked into your eyes.

Every time he looked at you, you felt as if he could see right through you. It was startling. Somehow, the candlelight and his gaze mixed with his polished appearance and dark clothing made him look dangerous.

He stepped towards you again and took the candle holder from your hands, placing it down on the table.

"I'm sorry. I had a bad day," he said finally.

He placed his gloved hands on your waist started running them down your form. The touch had a sort of gentle hesitance to it, different from the way any of your past lovers had touched you before - it elicited goosebumps on your body and made your heart race. Such reactions never failed around him.

His gaze was hungry, admiring of you and what you were wearing.

"The wine, the candles, the clothes. What exactly did I do to deserve such a prize?"

"I just wanted to surprise you," you said. "Now can you explain the mask? You scared me..."

"Maybe later."

"Fine. Are you sure you don't want to talk about your day at least?"

He smiled.

"No," he leaned in. "Right now, I just need you."

And he dove into the kiss, his mouth roughly moving against your lips. He slipped the robe off you and picked you up, moving you both to his bedroom. His lips on yours and his hands on your ass and thighs left you breathless and enticed. The effect he seemed to have on you was intoxicating, and the more sinister look of his in combination with the anticipation you had built up from waiting had you even more eager than the usual.

It had a mind-numbing effect on you and when he laid you down, desperation taking over you as he pulled down your panties. You were already wet and wanting, and luckily for you, he seemed greedy and wasn't in the mood to tease.

He didn't bother removing much of his clothes, seemingly desperate to have you. He unzipped his pants and slid inside you with a rough grunt.

"I had been waiting all day for this," he said in a somewhat strained voice.

The invasion made you moan and close your eyes, and you tilted your head back when he started pushing deeper inside you. Pleasure coursed through you like a wave, uncontrollable, making you squeeze and shudder around him.

"You really were waiting and ready for me, weren't you?" he said, getting cocky now.

He grabbed your thighs and raised them, black gloves on white gartered stockings. Heat spread through your core and all over. The slick in and out, in and out of him as he stretched you and rubbed against your clit had you whining, and you reached up to him, but he pinned your wrist beside you. With your other hand you managed to hold onto his sleeve in an attempt keep steady.

He was rough, desperate - he always touched you desperately, almost as if if he too thought that it would be the last time he would see you. But he clutched at you harder that night, kissed you like you, or he, had done something wrong.

You cursed, your orgasm on the brink of spilling out of you.

"I - I'm going to -"

He kissed you roughly again, drawing another loud moan out of you. You wrapped your ankles around his back and he growled, deepening his strokes inside you.

"You're beautiful," he rasped, touching your face. "You feel so fucking good. Come for me, darling..."

Your orgasm hit you then, hard and exhaustive, and after a few more thrusts he spilled inside you. He held you close until you both somewhat calmed yourselves down.

That night, you both had another glass of wine, took a bath, and laid down for bed. You were glad he appeared less stressed, less upset than before. And you were still on a high from your orgasm.

Nevertheless, that didn't stop you from trying to pry.

"So," you said. "Are you going to tell me about the mask now? Maybe about what happened at...work?"

"It was a rough day. That's all. Today was the end of something. I hate endings," he said casually, adjusting his pillow behind him. "The mask is a part of it. I have to wear it sometimes."

"Okay...That's all I'm getting?"

"I'm sorry I can't tell you more," he said, facing you.

"It's okay. When you're ready to talk, I'll be here to listen."

You would be patient, understanding. He brought out that side of you.

He ran his fingers over your face. His eyes were gentle. You couldn't believe then that he had ever looked dangerous.

"You might not want me then," he said.

The admission shocked you.

"What?" In-ho...Whatever it is and whatever is going on...I want you. I actually care, you know." You shrugged. "Some might even say it's love."

"Love?"

You nodded. You didn't need him to reciprocate in return, you only said it because it was honest. Life was too short to deny any sort of truth.

"Some might even say I feel the same," he said. "And what if the mask is part of who I am?"

You paused, thinking this over, while processing his admission to you.

"Then I'll learn to love that part too."

His eyes narrowed for a moment, and you hoped he wasn't doubting you. You meant what you said, after all. Even if hell rained down upon you for it, you had come to realize that there wasn't much you wouldn't do for him.

He pulled you close to him and kissed you gently.