Chapter Six
It’s Friday night when I let myself into Hongjoong’s apartment with the keycard, toeing off my shoes in the entryway.
It’s been a few days since I’ve seen him, his schedule packed tight with photo shoots and practice runs and management meetings that he complained about over text with the energy of a sulking teenager, sending me a string of messages around noon today that amounted to a detailed rant about how his team manager made him sit through a two-hour sponsorship review when he could have been doing literally anything else.
I responded with a single thumbs-up emoji, which earned me a voice note of him calling me heartless.
I’m barely past the mudroom, still shrugging out of my jacket, when Hongjoong appears from around the corner and hauls me up over his shoulder in one fluid motion.
My stomach drops as the world flips and I’m staring at the back of his shirt, his arm locked around my thighs like a steel bar. I yelp and kick at him, my jacket falling to the floor somewhere behind us.
“Put me down, I’m not some fucking blushing bride—”
Hongjoong pinches my ass so hard I know it’s going to bruise, his fingers digging in with zero mercy, and the sharp sting makes me hiss through my teeth.
“Shut up,” he says, and the growl in his voice is low enough that it vibrates through his chest and into my stomach where it’s pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so fucking hard right now I want to hold you down and fuck you until you can’t walk, and I just might if you keep running your mouth.”
I go quiet because the tone of his voice tells me he’s dead serious, that this isn’t the playful roughhousing we usually fall into.
His pheromones are pouring off him in thick waves that fill the hallway and coat the inside of my nose and throat, that potent alpha musk that’s so concentrated it makes my head swim.
My body stirs involuntarily, heat pooling low in my belly and slick beginning to gather between my cheeks as I hang upside down over his shoulder like a sack of rice, watching the hardwood floor pass beneath us.
I wonder if he’s close to his rut because the intensity of his scent is well beyond what I’ve gotten used to over the past few weeks, and the tension in his body, the coiled tightness of his muscles under my hands where I’m bracing against his back, feels like something barely held in check.
Hongjoong dumps me onto the living room couch without ceremony, my back hitting the cushions hard enough to knock the air out of me, and then he’s on me before I can even get my bearings.
He comes over me with his full weight, one knee between my thighs, and grabs the front of my shirt with both hands and rips it open.
Buttons scatter across the couch and onto the floor, pinging off the coffee table, and I open my mouth to protest because that was a decent shirt but his hands are already at my waistband, yanking my pants down my legs with enough force that my hips lift off the cushions, pulling them inside out as he drags them off my feet and tosses them somewhere behind him.
His mouth finds mine in a bruising kiss, his teeth catching my lower lip and biting down hard enough to sting, tongue pushing past my lips and sweeping in possessively, licking into my mouth like he’s trying to consume me.
I grab at his shoulders for something to hold onto as he moves down my jaw, his mouth hot and open against my skin, trailing wet biting kisses along the line of my throat until he reaches my scent gland.
He presses his nose against it and inhales so deep his chest expands against mine, the groan that comes out of him sounds like it’s been dragged up from somewhere primal, desperate.
His tongue drags a broad stripe over the sensitive spot and my whole body shudders beneath him, my cock jumping hard against my stomach and slick leaking freely from my hole now, soaking into the couch cushion under my ass.
I’m panting already, embarrassed by how fast my body responds to him, how the combination of his pheromones and the rough handling flips every switch I have.
My cock is fully hard and dripping against my belly, my hole clenching, and he’s barely touched me.
I manage to get enough breath to say, “We don’t have to go slow if you’re close to your rut. ”
Hongjoong shakes his head against my throat, pulling back just enough to look down at me with blown pupils, his lips wet and swollen from kissing.
Then he drops to his knees on the floor beside the couch, grips my thighs with both hands, and pushes my legs back toward my chest, folding me nearly in half and spreading me wide open.
The cool air of the apartment hits my exposed hole and I clench, feeling how wet I am, slick smeared across my inner thighs and the crease of my ass.
Hongjoong stares at it. His pupils are so wide his eyes look almost black, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, and when he speaks his voice comes out hoarse.
“I’ve been dying to do this for days,” he says, his thumbs pressing into the meat of my inner thighs to hold them apart. “I need the taste of your slick before I die of fucking need, Jae.”
My pulse is hammering, my whole body wound tight from his pheromones alone, and I’m so keyed up that when I feel his tongue press flat and hot against my hole I nearly come on the spot.
My hips jerk and a moan spills out of my throat.
Hongjoong groans against me like the taste of my slick is the only thing he’s wanted all week.
He’s so thorough about it that it makes me want to crawl out of my skin with how good it feels.
Broad lapping strokes over my hole, his tongue collecting the slick that leaks out of me with each pass, then circling my rim with the pointed tip before flattening out again and dragging up slowly.
The sounds are filthy, wet slurping and the low vibration of his groans against my opening, it makes my face burn even as my back arches off the cushions.
His thumbs dig harder into my thighs, keeping them spread, and I can feel the slight tremor in his hands like he’s holding himself back.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he groans against me, and then his tongue spears inside, pushing past the ring of muscle and thrusting deep.
I cry out, my fingers fisting in the couch cushions, my mouth falling open as he works me from the inside, his tongue curling and lapping at my walls.
He fucks me open on his tongue with patient devastating strokes, pulling back to slurp wetly over my rim before plunging back in.
I’m panting and gasping and moaning openly.
There’s no point in trying to be quiet when he’s doing this to me, when every nerve ending in my body is lit up and screaming.
Hongjoong growls against my hole, the vibration traveling up through my pelvis and into my spine, and then he angles his jaw and his tongue curls and rubs deliberately against my prostate.
My orgasm slams through me without any warning at all, no build, no crest, just a sudden violent wave that seizes every muscle in my body at once.
My voice cracks on a cry as my cock spurts untouched over my stomach, my hole clenching in pulses around Hongjoong’s tongue, my thighs shaking so hard in his grip that he has to tighten his hold to keep them from snapping closed on his head.
I hear Hongjoong make a sharp strangled sound below me through the haze of my orgasm, my head buzzing and my limbs heavy and tingling as the aftershocks roll through me in diminishing waves.
Hongjoong sets my legs down gently, easing my trembling thighs onto the couch, and I blink through bleary eyes as I try to focus on him.
He’s still on his knees on the floor, but his pants are open and shoved down his hips, and there’s thick milky white cum smeared all over the edge of the couch cushion, dripping in slow strings onto the hardwood below.
I blink again as I realize what I’m seeing, and I push myself up onto my elbows, staring.
“Did you cum?”
Hongjoong rakes a hand through his disheveled hair, pushing the blonde strands back from his forehead where they’ve fallen loose, and leans back on his heels.
He looks undone, his mouth and chin shining with my slick, his chest heaving, his cock still half-hard and glistening between his spread thighs.
“I told you,” he says, his voice rough and spent, “I felt like I was going to die.”
I laugh. A real laugh, surprised out of me by the sheer absurdity of it and the unexpected flattery, because in all my years of doing this, not a single alpha has ever gotten off just from eating me out.
I reach down, swipe two fingers through the drops of Hongjoong’s cum cooling on the edge of the couch cushion, and bring them to my mouth.
I hold his gaze as I lick them clean, dragging my tongue deliberately, tasting the salt and musk of him on my tongue, and I watch his expression shift as I do it.
“I’ve never made anyone cum just from eating me out before,” I say, dropping my voice low and husky as I pull my fingers free. “You must have really missed me.”
Hongjoong’s eyes go dark. His jaw tightens and a dangerous look flickers across his face, he curses under his breath before he moves.
I don’t even have time to react before his hands are on my hips, flipping me with that startling alpha strength, and suddenly my face is shoved into the couch cushions and my ass is hiked up in the air behind me, my knees barely finding purchase on the leather, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my hole for one split second before he plunges in from behind in a single driving thrust that buries him to the root.