14. Chapter Fourten #4
This is what I wanted. To see him crack.
To watch the indifference he’s been wearing for days, for years, fall away piece by piece until there’s nothing left but him.
And there he is. His chest heaving, his lips parted, a flush crawling up his neck, sounds spilling from him that he can’t bite back no matter how hard he tries.
I hollow my cheeks, curl my tongue, and suck hard.
Ryowoon jolts. His hand flies to the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair, and he yanks me off. I wince at the sting against my scalp but I don’t fight the grip. My mouth comes off him with a slick sound, my lips wet, my chin slick. I lick my bottom lip.
He’s panting hard. His chest rising and falling so fast his shirt is pulled taut across it with each breath, his stomach clenching, his eyes glazed and unfocused as he pulls me up to eye level. His grip doesn’t loosen in my hair, keeping me close, his face inches from mine.
“God damn it,” he growls. “You just don’t listen, do you?”
I lick my lips again. Taste him on them. Hold his stare.
“Why should I?”
His eyes flicker. Makes a decision, and then his hands are on my shoulders and he’s pushing me down.
My back hits the mat and Ryowoon rises above me on his knees, his chest heaving, his jeans shoved halfway down his thighs, his cock still flushed and wet from my mouth.
He looks around the room, runs a hand through his hair and breathes out.
“I don’t even have a fucking condom here.”
I look up at him. My voice comes out mild, almost bored, like my heart isn’t trying to push through my sternum.
“I don’t give a shit.”
Ryowoon looks down at me. His pupils blown, his eyes near-black, the flush on his neck creeping up past his jaw. He holds my gaze for a beat. Then his mouth tightens and he says roughly, “Fine. Have it your way.”
He spits into his palm. The vulgar sound sends a bolt of absurd want through me so strong my hips shift on the mat. I watch him slick his fingers, coat them, and then his hand moves between my thighs and I feel the press of two fingers against my hole at once.
I grit my teeth and swallow my noise as he pushes them in.
My hand shoots down, grabs a fistful of the sleeping mat, twists as the stretch burns through me.
It’s been too long. My body fights the intrusion and yields to it at the same time, clenching around his fingers then slowly, painfully relaxing as he works them deeper.
He scissors them apart and I bite down on my lip hard, my spine curving, my face hot.
But I don’t ask him to slow down. I lie back and let him do it, let him push and spread and open me up while the rain drums above us and my breath comes in shallow stuttering pants.
He curls his fingers inside me. I squeeze my eyes shut, concentrate on breathing, on the ceiling I can feel pressing down above me, on the smell of rain and dust and him. His fingers twist inside me and my cock twitches against my stomach.
Ryowoon pulls his fingers out. I feel the absence, the slick empty ache, and my eyes open.
I look down between us, my chest rising fast, and watch him shift forward on his knees, watch his hand wrap around his cock and line it up.
The blunt head presses against my hole, still slick with my spit, the pressure building, feel him nudge forward.
He pushes in.
“Ah—” I gasp. Pain lances up through my pelvis, splitting, my body resisting the stretch as the head forces past the ring of muscle.
My back arches, my fingers claw at the mat.
He’s bigger than I remembered, or maybe I just forgot what this feels like, the way it burns, the way it feels like being pried apart from the inside.
Ryowoon’s voice sounds like it’s being torn from him.
“Fuck—fuck—” His thighs shake against the backs of mine, the muscles jumping, trembling with the effort of not snapping his hips forward.
He inches in, feeding me another centimeter, another, his jaw locked so tight the cords in his neck stand out.
His hands grip my hips, fingers pressing into the bone.
I gasp, blinking tears from my lashes. He pauses, his eyes dropping to my face. The crease between his brows deepens. His hips still.
I’m not having that.
I lock my legs around his waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back, and pull.
My hand finds the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair the same way he grabbed mine minutes ago, and I drag his face down to mine until our foreheads nearly touch, until I can see the sweat beading at his temples, the way his lips are red.
“Don’t you fucking dare stop.”
His teeth bare.
He slams forward and buries himself to the hilt.
I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt, my back bowing off the mat as he fills me so full I can feel him in my throat.
The burn is blinding, my body clamping down around him, my breath leaving me in a sob.
And I don’t care. Because beneath the pain there’s a deep satisfaction, the feeling of him inside me after ten years of nothing, of emptiness, of waking up reaching for someone who wasn’t there.
Ryowoon pulls back and drives in again and I meet him, hooking my arm around his neck, yanking his mouth to mine.
The kiss is savage. I bite at his lip, catch the skin between my teeth and pull until I taste copper, and he growls into my mouth and snaps his hips harder.
Each thrust rocks my body, and I take it, I take all of it, because this isn’t gentle and it shouldn’t be.
We’re not making love. We’re settling a score.
Ten years of wanting crammed into every collision of his hips against mine, every bruising press of mouth to mouth.
I claw at his back, my nails catching in the cotton of his shirt, raking down his spine.
He sinks his teeth into my collarbone and I hiss, my cock jumping between us, smearing against his stomach with every slam of his body into mine.
My heels dig into his lower back, pulling him deeper, the angle shifts and suddenly he’s hitting the spot inside me that makes my veins light up and my head spin.
“There—fuck, right there—”
Ryowoon adjusts, pins my hips, and hammers that spot.
I’m done for. My hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders, his arms, anything to anchor me as he drives into me over and over, the wet sound of skin filling the room beneath the rain.
My cock throbs between us, untouched, leaking against my belly, and every thrust sends a jolt through it.
My thighs clench around him, my breathing turns into gasps.
I can feel it gathering at the base of my spine, coiling tighter with each snap of his hips.
He grazes his teeth along my throat and thrusts deep and I come apart.
My back arches hard, muscles locking up as I come, my cock pulsing between us, spilling onto my stomach, onto his shirt, untouched. The orgasm ripples through me, my fingers go numb where they dig into Ryowoon’s shoulders, making incoherent sounds.
Ryowoon swears, his thrusts faltering as I clench around him, my body bearing down on his cock.
He drops his forehead against my throat, his breathing labored and hot against my skin, he’s driving in again, harder, faster, chasing it.
His hands grip my hips tight, pulling me onto him with each thrust, his body slamming into mine with desperation.
He makes a gutted groan against my throat.
His hips stutter, lock, and he buries himself deep and I feel him come.
The pulse of heat inside me, wet and spreading, filling me up.
My eyelids flutter and my lips part. His seed spills into me in waves that match the shuddering of his body, his spine curving over mine, his weight settling against my chest as his arms give out.
I feel everything. The tremble in his shoulders. The stutter of his breathing against my neck. The slowing pound of his heart where his chest is pressed to mine.
My fingers find the back of his neck. I hold him there.
My hand, resting against the warm skin, my thumb brushing the short hair at his nape.
My other arm drapes over his back, palm flat between his shoulder blades.
My legs loosen around his waist but don’t drop, keeping him close, keeping him in me.
I stare up at the ceiling and gradually feel his breathing slow against me, feel the warmth of him everywhere, inside and out, pressed flush to my body from chest to hip.
I don’t let go.