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The first woman had been too tall.
Other than that, she could have passed for her long lost sister, which had been a horribly well timed coincidence. Slim frame and subtle curves with a sharp face. Perhaps a tad too pale, her eyes a lighter shade of amber, her cheekbones too pronounced, the left conner of her lips lacking a beauty mark and definitely too tall, but the similarity had still been uncanny.
Park Yoon-Soo didn’t lie to Leo when he said he has no need to seduce anyone: she came to him willingly after exchanging glances for a little over an hour, crossing the hotel bar towards his stool in a knee-length sparkly silver dress.
After that, it didn’t take long; only two drinks of small talk until she asked which room he was staying in. Then, while waiting for the elevator, she also briefly mentioned that she wasn’t looking for a long term thing. Park Yoon-Soo assured her that would be perfectly fine and she kissed him as soon as the doors closed, just as he pressed the number 12 absentmindedly.
There had been no sloppiness to her movements; if the drinks were getting to her, she surely didn’t show. She stepped inside first and the door had been locked after him, the silver dress nothing but a pool on the floor as she unbuttoned his shirt, yet Park Yoon-Soo didn't allow her to fully take it off.
In fact, he had remained mostly dressed while they fucked. It’s a bad habit of his. She didn’t seem to mind.
She also didn’t really mind when he flipped her over all of a sudden, pulling her hips up and pushing her face down into the mattress, black hair cascading down her sides. If anything, the position had her cunt tightening around him even more, her drool spilling onto the sheets.
The name that slipped past her lips when she orgasmed on his cock was muffled, but didn’t seem to be his own. Offensive, but fair enough. Yoon-Soo couldn’t really fault her for it when he had also been thinking of someone else. After all, it might have been on that woman’s shoulder that his teeth sank into, but it was that cursed memory of Han Chae-Ah climbing on his lap like she owned it, so vulnerable and unguarded in her plaid pajamas and liquid courage, that made him nearly miss the time to pull out, cumming so hard his vision went white.
The inexplicable satisfaction at backing her up against the headboard, greedily licking that small scratch on her throat, her soundless whimpers making him want to bite down and suck marks all over her skin instead. The way he had her shuddering in his arms, gripping at his nape as he crawled closer between her legs, pulling her up to have her straddle his thigh; how he just might have done about anything to have her grind on it, that addictive blood of hers fogging up his senses-
Fuck, that woman had looked so much like her, and yet she didn’t even compare to the real thing.
And precisely because that woman hadn’t been Han Chae-Ah, the taste of her blood had been as foul as everyone else’s, but Park Yoon-Soo couldn’t help but think that it tasted even worse than usual.
She had been horrified, of course, and he couldn’t even bring himself to muster a hallucination, or even an excuse, to placate her in his frustration. He also defied his own M.O. by letting her live, allowing her to storm out the door without a word, cum still dripping down her thighs. He didn’t particularly care, nor did he have any reason to do so when Leo would take care of things.
Anyway, the first woman had been too tall, but the second woman had looked nothing like Han Chae-Ah at all.
She too had been pretty, with wavy light brown hair and a kind smile, but it was much more traditional kind of pretty then he would have preferred. Her temper, sweet and trusting, was laced with a naiveté that deeply annoyed him. There had not been a single part of her that wasn’t soft, from her big boobs to her dark brown doe-eyes and it was borderline pathetic.
She’d found him at the hotel’s private mall, when he’d been out to buy himself some new outfits. There had been nothing subtle about the way she made a beeline for him as soon as their eyes met, but she had still been careful about her approach, inviting him for coffee after he was done shopping.
At the cafe, she seemed to not really know what to do with herself, as if she hadn’t really expected him to say yes. Park Yoon-Soo gave her a smile that didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes and allowed her to babble on and on about nothing in particular, watching her squirm in her seat under his gaze.
There had been a purity to the way she shyly asked if he had a girlfriend.
But there hadn’t been much of it left by the time Park Yoon-Soo fucked her on the sofa in his room, her lips wrapped around one of his newly bought ties to keep her quiet after her moaning got too irritating for him to bear. He made her cum once, but it was an empty performance, as he kept having a difficult time finding his own release, all his willpower focused on staying hard so this wouldn’t all have been for nothing.
It was only when she unexpectedly turned the tables on him, moving to sit on his lap and ride him that he had managed to feel the excitement build up.
…Because all at once he had been back in that room across the ocean with Han Chae-Ah pushing him to sit back on the couch, hovering over him on her knees so she could look down on him and attempt to cheat her way out of the kiss he had essentially poisoned himself for.
How flustered she’d been when he forced her back down beneath him, wide-eyed and rattled, that pretty shade of red splashing down her cheeks, staining the tips of her ears. Dainty, sensitive ears that had her gasping in his mouth mid-kiss, the shift in control making her remind him that he was not allowed to touch her, even with the hands fisting in his robe pulling him closer. The sweet moan he had heard when he switched his attention to her neck, raw and lustful, assuring him that perhaps he could make her lift her touch ban, maybe even get her to beg…
Yes. Yes-
His free hand had forcefully dragged the woman’s wrist to his mouth and bit down hard.
The disgusted grunt he let out was overshadowed by a scream of terror, too high-pitched to match the voice he had actually wanted to hear screaming and it killed his orgasm nearly instantly. There had been no pleasure to be found in that stale blood, no satisfaction to be had from the fear in this woman’s eyes and no joy in relishing in her pain.
Park Yoon-Soo told her she looked ugly when she cried and to not let the door hit her on her way out and in turn she had promised to call the police on him. He’s not sure if she did end up actually reporting him, but he did receive a hospital bill for her wrist a few days after, as well as costs for a couple of therapy sessions and for the coat she left behind.
He’s not really sure why he didn’t kill that one, really.
Yoon-Soo doesn’t remember the third woman as well as the first two, but he thinks she might have been french-korean.
She had this european accent he couldn’t quite place and natural blond hair. Her disposition had seemed closer to Han Chae-Ah’s than the previous women he had slept with, but she had a more western face and a plumper body. He can’t even remember how exactly she came across him; only that it had taken a few run-ins before they actually slept together, all in which she’d been very guarded.
Then, one night she showed up at his door wearing that cursed red dress he’d been eyeing everyday since he spotted it at the private mall, holding in her hand a few preservatives and bottle of lube. The dress didn’t suit her, so he did her the favor of tearing it off her body as soon as he let her in.
She had cussed him out for ripping the expensive fabric, but the effect had been much more lackluster than expected, specially when all it took for her bravado to crumble into a submissive mess was an order for her to shut up and kneel, with a rough grip onto her hair as he fucked her face over and over again.
This time he managed to not picture her as Han Chae-Ah, even as he heard her gag and moan around his cock, begging for him to open his eyes and look at her. He didn’t, of course. It would have distracted him from the fantasy where Chae-Ah would be watching him instead, just after she denied his request to have her on that piano.
The bittersweet agony of having his hands all over the fabric of that black dress but not on her skin: holding onto her hips, her thighs, her waist and wanting, wanting so much. So much that no delicious blood could make up for the need to be inside her. The ever fascinating paradox of wanting to hear her beg even when he was the one brought to his knees; of relishing in her vicious words yet yearning to hear sweet ones instead.
Would she have glared at him with that disgusted expression of hers, seeing him like this? Would she have maintained eye contact? Would she have said something, cussed him out, told him to resist, to stop looking at her? Or would she have been speechless? Would she have even cared?
( Yes, she would have, even if she would pretended not to, and that is what dragged him over the edge with a breathless groan.)
He didn’t go for the kill with this one initially either. Yoon-Soo just plain old kicked her out after they’d been done and only thought to remember she shouldn’t be alive when she started pounding on his door for an explanation. Her blood had tasted awful and it had stained the shirt he’d been wearing beyond repair. One of Leo’s goons took the body away early in the morning but the smell persisted for a few days, which had been annoying.
After her, there had been a couple other women. Park Yoon-Soo remembers their smell, but doesn’t know any of their names: there was no reason to. Some of them had somewhat resembled Han Chae-Ah, to differing degrees. Others, more often than not, didn’t resemble her at all. None of them tasted good. In the end, it didn’t really matter; the conclusion was the same:
No one else would do. She had ruined him.
Han Chae-Ah had the nerve to ruin him for anybody else and then abandon him.
If he’d known back then that his little cat-and-mouse game would end like this… If only he had know…
No, Park Yoon-Soo wouldn’t have done anything different, even if he had known. Because that had been what doomed them from the very start: they were each others perfect trap. He could never resist her.
Even if he knew better.
Even at the cost of nearly everything else in his life going to shit.
How unfair, he thinks, that he is always consumed with thoughts of her at every waking hour when he would not cross her mind even once. Anymore. Could not. He’d made sure of it, as per her request.
And as if that wasn’t enough, Park Yoon-Soo also dreamed of her. Often. Leave it to Han Chae-Ah to torture him even in his sleep.
To add insult to injury, not all of his dreams were inherently sexual in nature. Nor were they about her blood. No, most of them actually consisted of this unattainable collage of ordinary little moments between them.
…Which, naturally, was much worse.
Dreams of reading books while she solves puzzles, of sharing glasses of wine in the evening, of doing the dishes together after lunch, of having her seat next to him while he plays her a song in the piano, of going house-hunting for a new place, of getting married and going on a honeymoon trip, of having her complain about his nagging and shutting her up with a kiss, of them wearing matching robes to sleep, of holding hands during a date…
Sometimes, Park Geurim was with them, too, on the most ridiculously domestic ones.
(Yoon-Soo should really do something about that kid, he’s been out of his sight for too long.)
And more often than not, Han Chae-Ah was also a vampire in his dreams. Which was a troublesome thought, as he has let her go. He’s not turning Chae-Ah anytime soon.
…But ‘not anytime soon’ wasn't ‘never’, was it?
Perhaps that’s why his obsession with her couldn’t die; even after letting her go, it didn’t feel like she would ever be truly gone. As long as she was still alive somewhere, a part of him couldn’t help but feel that they’d make their way back to each other in one way or another: the karmic noose keeping them connected was stronger than any frivolous things, such as free will or self-discipline.
He had meant it when he told her he’d let her go, but he had also meant it when he told her to never come back. And she had come back for him anyway, reckless human.
Therefore, there’s no reason to believe she won’t be coming back again, against all odds. He just needs to wait her out. Which… Fine. He’s an immortal undead creature. He can be patient.
(But the thing about waiting was that it was never a linear process, and at his darkest, most loneliest hours, Park Yoon-Soo fears she’ll never return.)
Tonight he nurses yet another glass of wine at the hotel bar. Human alcohol had little to no effect on vampires, but out of his vices, red wine was the most harmless. Existential dread has been creeping up on him once again and he’s not hungry, so he avoids making eye contact with any of the other patrons.
The liquid swirls around the glass in gentle circles. It’s velvety, with a balanced aroma. Vintage. Makes sense. This had been a good year for wine, he remembers.
Park Yoon-Soo could have been seated there for five minutes or five hours, he isn’t really able to tell. There was still the matter of Geurim to sort out, but for that he’d need Leo and the slimy bastard has been making himself scarce. To lure him in, Yoon-Soo would need to do more than just dropping a dead body every other two weeks and getting complaints from chasing away women every once in a while, but using his time productively and actively antagonizing Leo weren’t incompatible things to achieve at the same time.
Perhaps he should find something to do other than drinking wine, drinking blood, having sex, smoking and/or feeling sorry for himself. Should he go back to attending church mass…? Maybe volunteering again. He liked kids. It really was a shame they grew up so fast-
Ok, maybe not that, he hasn’t been needing daily reminders of his own losing battle to time.
He passes by the store with the red dress when he makes his way back to his room through the lobby. A blood red silky thing with a draped, slightly-form-fitting, cut that would flatter her figure. The kind of dress Han Chae-Ah likely wouldn’t pick for herself, but would secretly want to own, if only to have it hidden at the very back of her closet. The kind he’d buy for her and that he’d want to have her wear around him, take it off only for for him-
…Was this collection really selling so well that no one has changed the display in weeks?
Yoon-Soo eventually finds himself alone in his room once again, taking a quick shower and changing into his robe. There is a book on his nightstand he ought to finish, a horror anthology that he saw at a bookstore a few decades ago and never got around to buying until now.
(The cliche of being a vampire who enjoys horror books isn’t lost on him, but he prefers to think that he doesn’t like them because he was a bloodsucker, but rather in spite of it.)
It’s a good book, and he’d go as far as to say it made a better bed companion than the humans he’s been having over since parting ways with Han Chae-Ah. The stories are clever and short, two or three usually being enough to lull him to sleep-
Ha.
A clap shuts out all the lights in the room.
Even the best pieces of literature will be wasted on him when he gets in moods like these. It seems tonight is one of the nights where sleep shall evade him, after all.
How pitful, he can’t help but notice, to think she was capable of inflicting this much damage, that she could reduce him to this. Big bad bloodsucker Park Yoon-Soo finally met his match: a vicious little human who doesn’t know when to quit.
Yoon-Soo knows he’s still going to live a long time: everytime he starts to think otherwise, the universe seems to actively remind him that he’s one hard to kill motherfucker. But there is no doubt in his mind he won’t ever come across anyone quite like her ever again in his extended lifetime. His relationship with Han Chae-Ah was one of kind.
Even if she didn’t remember him anymore.
‘The best revenge’ she had called it. Cruel human. The best revenge indeed.
Park Yoon-Soo is a cruel creature himself. Maybe immortality had damaged him beyond repair or maybe he’d always been like this deep down. Doesn’t matter. He enjoys inflicting pain upon others, shamelessly manipulates and uses people as sees fit, takes pride in the terror he causes and delights in torturing and killing on a weekly basis. He regrets very little even though he’s lived a lot, and what he does he regret, he regrets for the wrong reasons usually.
He’s a monster and he never fooled himself into thinking otherwise.
Yet he can’t help but think that what Chae-Ah does is much worse: to make a monster feel human, to make it wish it were something it’s not, and then use that against it.
And that’s why she’s still alive. Because she’s cruel, cruel in a different way maybe, but crueler than him nonetheless, and he likes that about her. Likes her.
Against his best judgment. Against nature itself.
And she likes him too. She could not admit to it and neither could she ever accept him, not when she couldn’t ever forgive him, much less forgive herself for forgiving him. Liking him was not enough for her.
But it was enough for him. Han Chae-Ah’s forgiveness was wanted, if she could ever grant it, but Park Yoon-Soo didn’t need it. Maybe one day she would understand that, too.
In the meantime, he wonders how she’s doing.
He’s been making an active effort not to know for sure, which is unlike him. It would have been easier if he and Father were still in somewhat civil terms, but he had his own ways to keep tabs on people if he so wished. Besides, she wouldn’t know if he did or didn’t, specially without any of her memories of him.
Yet, here he was, keeping his word to stay out of her so-called ‘new life’. Yoon-Soo had sent her off at that airport with a powerful hallucination and enough money to make sure she wouldn’t be in need of anything, and that had been the end of it. He knows she’s likely still in Seoul, but aside from that, nothing else.
…
Truly, what has become of him?
His life had always been a terribly numb thing, wretched and rotten, but at the very least it hadn’t caused him this much turmoil. These days, he is always anxious:
Was she eating well? Han Chae-Ah couldn’t cook for shit, he’d never met a human with so much will to live yet so little survival skills. Would she hire a chef? Or would she eat out all the time? He surely didn’t give her all that money for her to spend it on instant ramen and convenience store food. She also shouldn’t be drinking by herself, menace that she was, or even worse, around others. It would also be no good if she got sick; her shitty family surely wouldn’t care for her. She also better have bought a healthcare plan. Knowing her, it will likely slip her mind until she actually needs it.
Has she bought herself a house? No, an apartment complex would suit her paranoid nature much better. Hopefully a nicer one; that old place of hers had terrible ventilation. He knows Chae-Ah liked the houses he had picked before; now that she could afford it, what kind of apartment unit would suit her? Probably not something too spacious, considering how lazy she was with domestic affairs, but still big. A penthouse maybe? Somewhere high up, regardless. Yeah that sounded about right. He hoped the dishes weren’t piling up, even though that would likely be the case.
What was she doing? Would she go back to attending church? She also didn’t really need to have a job anymore, but she could be thinking of getting one. Did she have any interest in attending school again? Chae-Ah didn’t go to college, but it didn’t look like she had much of a choice. Did she pick up a new hobby? It would be funny if she took up knitting all of a sudden. Picking a hobby would allow her to make acquaintances, maybe even friends, but Yoon-Soo isn’t sure if she still has it in her to try and lower her guard. Maybe this new version of Han Chae-Ah could. This Chae-Ah had gone through a lot, but not nearly as much as the Chae-Ah that demanded he erase her memories did after all.
Maybe she could even find a lover-
Absolutely not.
The mere idea had him immediately tasting his own bile, the blood inside his veins boiling with a fiery possessiveness that nearly incinerated him. His fingers claw at the mattress to keep from going off into a rage, the urge to kill and maim spiking up all of a sudden-
It’s such a slim possibility that it shouldn’t concern him. Han Chae-Ah wasn’t like him; it would be out of character for her to have one night stands. She didn’t seem interested in seriously dating either, likely because of that psychotic ex of hers. But what if she did meet someone-
Ah, it really is for the best that he doesn’t try to look for her.
He knows what he would do if he saw something he shouldn’t.
It’s only fair that Chae-Ah gets to have as many affairs as him, but Yoon-Soo doesn’t really think of himself as a fair man. If he is to be hers, if she is to own his soul so completely he can’t think of anyone else, then the least she could do when she couldn’t think of him was remain his alone.
She had been his to kill when she opened her mouth that day at church, his to manage after they made that first deal, his to protect once they went abroad and his she shall remain.
Behind his eyes, unwanted memories come and go in rapid flashes.
The time he nearly strangled her, the time they framed each other for murder, the time she gloated over his dying body, the time they pretended they were dating to an entire church, the time she duped him into killing her ex, the time she willingly gave him her blood to save Geurim, the time they ended up making out under the pretense of feeding him, the time they went on that date at the cafe, the time she turned him down at the piano, the time she stared off to sea in that cruise, the time he thought he’d lost her good, the time they fooled Leo, the time she came back to save his life-
The last time he kissed her.
It’s a painful memory he revisits often. Maybe too often for someone who erased her memories without any promise-binding forcing him to. But how could he not, really.
A kiss that tasted of tears, freely given at last, with no touch restrictions. A surrender of sorts, but surrender by definition only, as ‘surrender’ would imply Park Yoon-Soo had won this seemly unending war they raged against each other. Which he hadn’t. If anything, Han Chae-Ah’s sincere despair had nearly annihilated him, her confessions costing him too high a price to be considered anything other than a devastating defeat.
He thinks back to the moment she arrived back at Leo’s hideout. It was ‘Park Yoon-Soo? What the hell is wrong with you?’ and then she pulled out that bloody knife without a single moment of hesitation. She did it to force him into taking that cursed deal, but he likes to delude himself into thinking she might have done it for him.
And so, tonight Park Yoon-Soo allows himself to be a little more delusional than usual.
An alternative scenario in which she doesn’t try to cut open the curtains restraining him. In this version he doesn’t manage to bamboozle her into feeding him the blood first either, as, because she’s not in a hurry to get away from him, she can tell he’s lying about the amount of time he still has to bleed out before he perishes (quite a lot, in comparison to how quickly humans bleed out). Then, Han Chae-Ah actually manages to get yet another promise out of him, and that’s when she steps closer to let him lick the cut on her finger.
It tasted delicious, it always does with her, and what had been even more delicious in the real memory had been the expression she made when he stopped licking the cut itself in favor of lewdly sucking on her finger. Here he can’t quite free his hands just yet, but that matters very little as he has her where he wants her regardless. In turn, he gets to watch that hazy look Han Chae-Ah has whenever she’s getting turned on against her best judgment for a while longer before she voices what exactly she wants him to do for her.
And because this is but a fantasy, she doesn’t ask for what she actually asked for in reality.
Park Yoon-Soo toys a bit with what Chae-Ah could demand from him instead. There are less than appropriate answers that he can (and will) explore at a later date, but it’s not a stretch to assume she’d want for him to leave her alone, as that’s what she always says she wants.
It would have made him laugh.
‘Stop fucking laughing, bastard, this isn't funny. Let me go,’ this is likely the point in which she’d draw her hand back beyond his reach.
‘If you actually wanted that, you wouldn’t have come back,’ he’d answer, smirk stained with blood.
‘Please, you think I don’t know that you would have found me no matter where I went?,’ Chae-Ah would insist, stubborn little human. ‘Leave me the fuck alone after I go. That’s the thing I need you to do for me.’
‘Then you shouldn’t have come back.’
‘You would have fucking died if I didn’t save you! You promised me. Keep your damn promises, Park Yoon-Soo!’ She’d glare with those maddening cat-like eyes of hers, as if seeing her mad didn’t make him want to kiss her more.
‘If that’s the case, you should have let me die!’ He’d retort, yellow glow flaring along with his temper, hands twisting in the curtains as his healing factor kicked in slower than usual given the drug. Nasty stuff.
‘Bastards like you don’t get to just die like that.’ That sardonic smile of hers really got on his nerves. Even if it was true, who was Han Chae-Ah to decide wether he lived or died-
‘You’ll regret saving me.’ Yoon-Soo would spit, raging behind the sweaty hair sticking to his face.
‘Not as long as you let me go.’
‘Fine. Then go. I will not chase you, as promised,’ he’d concede at last, lips parted in a grin that was more teeth than smile. Chae-Ah would be shocked enough to step closer. Not close enough, but closer, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, waiting for the catch. Clever woman, there would be one indeed: ‘As long as you leave exactly when I tell you to’
‘Park Yoon-Soo…’, her fury would start to slip through again.
‘I won’t take too much of your time,’ he’d defend with an innocence they both knew he didn’t possess and he might have put his hands up as a peace offering if they weren't already above his head, ‘Come over here, Han Chae-Ah.’
And maybe because it’s not real, he doesn’t have to ask for a kiss this time.
He’d always thought it was a bit cute how Chae-Ah liked to refuse his touch, even when she seemed to crave it. She protested, but whenever they did kiss, her mouth automatically parted under his in an unspoken invitation to deepen it. Yet, something, likely the leftover taste of blood, would have her flinching away sooner rather than later, and to remedy that, he’d probably switch focus.
If he were able to touch her, Yoon-Soo would have loved to wrap those dark tresses around his hand and pull backwards, forcing her to bare her entire throat for him, but as he could not, marking the skin he could reach would have to do. A particularly hard suck on the sensitive spot behind her ear would earn him the sweet whimper he wanted to hear, but it would not be enough, as only when he’d get around to pulling her earlobes between his teeth would he get her to squirm in his lap as he needed, hands tightening around his collar.
Han Chae-Ah isn’t one to give up control that easy though, so she’d rise to her knees, legs on either side of his body, a hand going home to lock around his neck as she dragged him back to her lips. It wouldn’t be the type of grip reserved for lovers, where you squeeze only the sides of someone's throat, allowing for the air to still flow through to their lungs, but rather the kind of crushing motion reserved for people you actually plan on murdering, harsh and rough, the kind that takes a special brand of hate to give.
Park Yoon-Soo’s eyes nearly roll back in pleasure.
As she’d start to get restless, her free hand would slip inside his robe, first over his shirt, and then, as her patience ran thin, under it, to leave angry red lines all over his shoulder and nape, maybe on his lower back if she decided to take a trick directly from his own playbook. She might even try to mirror his assault on her ears, biting and teasing his own. He didn’t usually allow for his partners to explore him much (Yoon-Soo felt more comfortable being the one doing most of the touching) but for Chae-Ah he could make as many exceptions as she wished.
Then he’d pull away, ghosting his lips near the shell of her ear, letting out a low groan of her name to watch her shiver in response, toes curling in disguised delight.
There are many advantages to being a vampire, one of which is to be able to smell when your partner is enjoying herself, even when she’s a little liar who won’t admit she's getting deliciously wet for you. Which is why he dodges her next kiss, smirking at her confusion in an attempt to hide his own breathlessness.
‘Go,’ he orders her. It’s a risk. A huge one. If she does indeed leave he might lose her forever, being at the mercy of needing to wait until she wanted to look for him. If she ever did. ‘Go now, and I won’t chase. But if you stay-’
There’d be no hesitation as she choked him harder and forced him into another, even angrier, kiss. He would be able to guess her thoughts: ‘this damned bastard’.
He wouldn’t gloat, but she’d be able to feel him smile into that kiss and it would likely aggravate her more. Good. That’s how he likes her best.
By now, his healing factor would have done its job and those curtains would be all but history when he tugs to free himself. There’d be a time and place to take things slow, to drag his tongue along any sensitive spot of hers he could find, to explore her body as he wished, to fuck her in every position he knew of until she knew nothing but his name, sobbing from the overstimulation, having lost count of how many times he’d made her fall apart. Or maybe to have Chae-Ah be the one tied up, preferably to his headboard, as he did with her as he pleased, mercilessly burying his fingers inside her and rubbing her clit, denying her orgasm after orgasm until she begged him nicely to take her. But this wouldn’t be the moment to do it, not when he’d be wound up so tightly he’d lose his mind if she didn’t let him have her.
And so, he doesn’t even pretend he’d take his time before grabbing her by the thighs and getting them onto that bed. Neither would he tease her underneath that orange sweater before he ripped the thing to pieces in order to get his hands on bare sweaty skin. In fact, Park Yoon-Soo would likely be so turned on he’d even throw his fucking robe away, shirt and all, with no care for the scars on his back because it wouldn’t matter if she saw them or not.
His body ran cold, but the heat coming off hers would keep them both warm, and it just might convince him he was still alive too.
Park Yoon-Soo wants her badly, wants her like he has never wanted anything in his entire miserable existence and this fantasy isn’t enough.
His groin aches, having been left unattended inside his sweatpants and he has no choice but to wrap a hand around his hardened cock. With taunting whispers of his name, Han Chae-Ah’s hand replaces his own, stroking him; then comes a true surrender, an armistice in the form of little confessions punctuated by the pumps of her hand: how he’s the only one she trusts, how she needs him to protect her, how badly she wants him inside her, how she’s been thinking of him too. Yoon-Soo’s hips buck wildly into her grasp and with a final note to the crescendo, she tells him she loves him.
Her name slips out of his lips as he cums, half-lidded yellow eyes lighting up the room.
Eventually, the glow dies down and he stares at the ceiling.
What a mess, he thinks, wiping his hand on the unsalvageable sheets as the sun starts to creep into the room.