Chapter Fourteen #3
“I was an idiot,” I say, sounding rough from the hours of sitting alone with everything I overheard on the balcony churning through me.
“I was a coward and an idiot and I wish I could take all of it back. Every year. Every single day I kept him from you, every day I spent lying to both of you, I wish I could undo it. But I can’t.
” I swallow hard, my grip tightening on his hand.
“So whatever you need from me to forgive me, I’ll do it. Whatever it takes. I’m ready.”
Hongjoong looks down at me for a long moment, his sharp brown eyes searching my face with an intensity that makes my pulse kick against my ribs.
Then his mouth curves, not the full grin with the dimple but a quieter and more private curve.
He reaches down and grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my face up so I can’t look away from him.
“I’ve already forgiven you, Jae,” he says, low and steady and sure in a way that makes my throat close up.
“But I’m also never letting you go anywhere without me for as long as we both live.
You understand that, right? You’re stuck with me now.
Permanently.” His thumb traces along my jaw, his smirk deepening.
“That said, I won’t turn down any enthusiastic apologies if you’re in the mood to give them. ”
I roll my eyes at him, or try to, but the effect is completely undermined by the fact that my eyes are stinging with tears and the corners of my mouth are trembling no matter how hard I press my lips together.
My face is doing about six things at once and none of them are dignified, so I commit to the only course of action available to me and reach for the front of his pants.
My fingers find his belt and undo it, then the button, then the zipper, and I pull the waistband down just enough to free his cock, which is already thickening against his thigh just from the sight of me on my knees.
I wrap my hand around him and stroke, slow and firm, feeling him harden fully in my grip, the shaft flushing hot and the head going slick with precum that I smear with my thumb on each upstroke.
Hongjoong’s breath changes above me, going heavier, and when I lean forward and take him into my mouth he groans, the sound vibrating through his chest and down into the hand I still have braced against his hip.
I work my tongue along the underside as I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks.
Hongjoong’s fingers thread into my hair and grip, not yanking but guiding, his palm cupping the back of my skull.
I don’t resist when he holds my head steady and pushes his hips forward, his cock sliding past my tongue and into my throat, the stretch of him making my eyes water and my jaw ache.
I breathe through my nose and swallow around him, and Hongjoong curses softly above me, his grip tightening in my hair as he starts to move, fucking my mouth in slow deep strokes that push him all the way to the back of my throat on each one.
I let him use me, keeping my throat open and relaxed, my hands gripping his thighs for balance as tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and when he comes I swallow every drop, working my tongue around the sensitive head until he hisses through his teeth and pulls free with a wet sound, his cock dragging across my lower lip as it slips out.
Hongjoong steps back, chest heaving, and starts undressing with enough urgency to tell me he’s nowhere near finished.
He pulls his shirt over his head and kicks his pants the rest of the way off, his cock already twitching with renewed interest, and tells me to get on the bed.
I’m already moving, peeling my sleep shirt off and shoving my pants down, climbing onto the mattress and lying on my back.
I pull my legs up and fold them back against my chest, spreading wide, and reach down to grip my own cheeks and open myself up for him, my hole already slick and clenching, glistening in the low light from the bedside lamp.
I hold myself there, exposed and waiting, offering everything I have.
Hongjoong kneels at the edge of the bed between my legs, his eyes dropping to my hole, and I watch his throat bob as he swallows.
He runs his thumb over my rim, the pad of it dragging through the slick gathered there, and the light touch makes me shiver and clench.
Then he lines himself up and pushes inside in one long steady thrust that doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, his pelvis flush against my ass.
I gasp and arch off the mattress as the fullness of him settles deep inside me.
He starts to move, the rhythm is different from the last several nights.
Still deep, still filling me completely on every stroke, but slower, more indulgent, his hips rolling instead of snapping.
Something in it has shifted, something I can feel in the way his hands settle on my thighs instead of pinning my wrists, in the way his eyes stay on my face instead of fixed on where his cock disappears into my body.
It’s closer to the way he touched me before everything came apart, before the truth detonated between us.
I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him deeper, crossing my ankles at the small of his back, and when Hongjoong leans down and kisses me I kiss him back with everything I have, my hands coming up to frame his face, my thumbs brushing the sharp lines of his cheekbones as his tongue slides warm and languidly against mine.
Later we’re lying on the bed together, my body loose and heavy with satisfaction, Hongjoong sprawled half across me with his head resting on my chest and one arm thrown over my waist. I’m drifting in that pleasant haze between wakefulness and sleep when I feel his mouth close around my nipple and suck, his tongue flicking at the sensitive bud, and I frown down at him.
“How long are you going to keep doing that?” I ask, watching the top of his blonde head as he works at my chest with single-minded focus.
Hongjoong pulls back just enough to circle my swollen nipple with a fingertip, then tweaks it between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the peaked bud, sending a sharp spark straight down to my cock.
He looks up at me with an expression of genuine contemplation, like he’s pondering one of life’s great mysteries.
“I’m just wondering how you managed to feed a baby with these,” he says, pinching lightly. “I’m trying to imagine you with full swollen tits, heavy with milk, leaking everywhere.” His eyes go slightly glazed. “That’s an incredible mental image, actually.”
“Quit imagining it,” I snap, swatting at his shoulder.
Hongjoong sighs with theatrical wistfulness, propping his chin on my sternum and gazing up at me. “I can’t picture it though. These tiny pink buds swelling up with milk.” He flicks one with his fingernail and I jerk. “They’re so cute and small right now. It doesn’t seem possible.”
“They went back to normal size after I stopped nursing, obviously,” I say, slapping at his head. “That’s how it works, you pervert. They don’t just stay like that permanently.”
Hongjoong’s eyebrows do something obscene, waggling with a delight that makes me want to smother him with a pillow, and then before I can stop him he ducks back down and seals his mouth over my nipple again, sucking hard with hollowed cheeks, his tongue laving flat and wet over the peaked bud with a thoroughness that makes my toes curl against my will.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I sputter, shoving at his forehead.
He pulls off just long enough to say, completely deadpan, “I want to see if I can make them swell with milk again,” and then latches back on.
“That’s not how biology works, you absolute degenerate—” I try to wrestle him off, planting both hands against his head and pushing, squirming underneath him, but Hongjoong just wraps his arm tighter around my waist and holds me pinned, humming contentedly around my nipple with his eyes closed, radiating self-satisfied energy.
He clearly has absolutely no intention of letting go anytime in the foreseeable future.
He switches to the other side without releasing me, his mouth hot and wet as it closes over the neglected nipple, and I curse and kick at his legs and call him a degenerate again for good measure.
But even as I shove at him, there’s a looseness spreading through my chest that wasn’t there an hour ago, a knot that’s been pulled free, and my eyes sting with it even while I’m cursing at him.
I can feel it in the way his hands hold me, firm but without the punishing edge of the last several days, possessive but no longer angry.
The fury has burned itself down into a demeanor I recognize, more like fierce protectiveness than rage, the same look he gets when he talks about Sungyoon’s future or when he noticed the scars on my body that first night.
And from down the hall I can hear the faint sounds of Sungyoon shifting in his bed, the soft click of dog nails on the hardwood as Alto or Rennard repositions, the quiet living sounds of a household settling in for the night.
I stop fighting Hongjoong off and let my hands drop to the mattress, staring up at the ceiling while he continues his ridiculous mission against my chest, and I let myself hope that Sungyoon heard what Hongjoong said to him tonight, really heard it, and that maybe my son will find his way back to me the same way his father did.