La Petite Mort

The glass remained half full.

Or in Youngbae’s case:  half empty.  I doubt the man knew what he agreed to.  With an austere expression, he continued staring at the tumbler and made no effort to swallow the liquor down. 

That was fine.  Let him sit and watch.  I was too buzzed to care.

Not while I had Jiyong’s lips on me.

I tipped my chin back and felt the room spin.  Round and round everything went, until the overhead lights blurred and became one.  Closing my eyes against the sickening momentum, I raked my fingers through Jiyong’s scalp and cupped his head close.  It was such an infectious feeling – having his mouth on me.  The heat from his breath warmed my skin while vibrations of sweet murmured nothings soothed my soul.  Sometimes I could make out the syllables like old nursery rhymes.  Other times, they slurred thickly and sounded foreign.  In the end, it was all lyrical to me.  Jiyong sang verses on my body. 

And I hummed with open delight.

He alongside the column of my throat and peppered me with small love bites.  He took his time. Teasing.  Sampling.  It felt divine.  Like heaven on earth.  This was the Jiyong I remembered.  Terribly romantic and attentive, he knew how to slow and steady.

He frustrated me like no other.

His long, slender fingers ran off my collarbone and played beneath the strap of my camisole.  Ever so tenderly, Jiyong coaxingly flicked the measly material towards him until it fell halfway down my arms. 

A brush of air…

…and I was exposed. 

Through my dense fall of lashes, I could see Jiyong’s eyes glow with interest as he stared. 

“Damn,” Jiyong murmured in awe.  His eyes remained fixated on me.  “What did you eat?”

The familiar teasing brought a wry grin to my lips.  It’s been many years and countless nights too long.  I couldn’t help but arch my back a little at his unexpected compliment.  Yes, I knew I had grown a bit since the last time we ed.  But I hope he liked it.  I knew he liked it.  His eyes widened marginally when I invaded his space – sacrificing my body like I was an offering to be consumed.

Faintly, Youngbae shifted in his seat. 

Just sensing the Saint’s hot gaze on us made my heavy s swell – swell and come alive.  Yes, let him sit and stare.  I didn’t mind giving Youngbae a show.  Knowing he was getting because of our little playact only heightened my excitement.  Lolling my head back, I closed my eyes while Jiyong’s lips began to delicately pluck and pull.  

I sighed.

“You like that girl?”

Like it?  I loved it.  It felt good.  Like little shocks of electricity, it felt so damn good.  Sloppily, Jiyong circled a restless peak until it became so ing hard I wanted to scream.  I hated how sensitive my s were.  I could never last long after they were played with too much.  To counter the mounting pressure, I clenched my l muscles tight and ground my teeth.  But every delicious stab from his tongue only made the empty ache between my thighs increased tenfold.

“Ji…”  I breathlessly whispered, reaching down to his beautiful neck.  I scraped my nails lightly across his tattoo and reached in.  Futilely, I tried to peel the terry robe off his shoulders but my fingers and brain had difficulty connecting.  I came up empty handed – not once, but twice.  Eyes closed, I leaned hard against Jiyong’s frame and felt him reach inside my shorts. 

“Put your in me,” I panted drunkenly into his ear.

He chuckled…

…then began petting me.  That bastard!  I felt frustration mount as Jiyong gingerly played with my lips, taking his sweet time.  He was testing my readiness, slickly coating both me and him.  Wasn’t I wet enough?  Couldn’t he see I needed more?  I leaned in close and whispered hotly once again.  “ me.  me now.  Ungh-”

He ed me.

In and out, Jiyong worked his fingers inside.  Scissoring.  Pumping and widening.  I moaned softly to myself while he a hole in my neck.  Too busy enjoying Jiyong’s ministrations, I almost forgot about our peeping Tom.  From the corner of my eye, I could see Youngbae rubbing himself – the drink now gripped tightly in his other fist.  He was getting hard for me.  For us.  My breathing grew labored but it still wasn’t enough.  I needed something more than a boorish audience and finger .  With an impatient growl, I pushed Jiyong off and watched dazedly as he flopped against the couch cushions.

The room spun.

I squinted against the harsh light and tried to focus but my lids had trouble staying open.  To top it off, I