Work Text:
dokja broke up with his ex — some older, wiser in the ways of the world, and much, much richer asshole — in an unceremonious flurry of texts and purposely-missed calls.
>9.19 AM | what was his name again?
it’s 9 in the morning.
it was 9 AM, on a monday morning, at the start of a brand new fiscal quarter; and dokja was either too sleep-deprived or too caffeinated, or some ungodly combination of both, to run sooyoung through his breakup process. he spared a furtive glance over his back, spotted a coworker coming his way, and quickly closed the the excel sheet he’d been trying to edit for the past 15 minutes.
“good morning, dokja-ssi.” it was yoo sangah, one of the kinder people on his floor. there was a hint of plain vanilla on the edges of her blouse.
“good morning, sangah-ssi.” dokja affected a smile, commercial.
“how was your weekend?”
dokja racked his brain. he’d been whisked away by the ex in question to his penthouse in the city, where he was held hostage until he ceded his hand in a serious, committed relationship. the morning after, dokja gained enough clemency to slip out of his place, while sending a very curt and concise, i’m not looking for anything serious right now. that was the end-all and be-all of it.
at least, that was what dokja had intended — a quiet, drama-free breakup. instead, what he’d lost in a competent bed partner, he’d gained in a mildly psychopathic ex.
dokja put it simply, “nothing much. just got a bit of rest.” he deftly turned the conversation around. “how was yours, sangah-ssi?”
“oh, i visited my grandparents over the weekends. they have this new obsession with starting a fruit garden, you see, and…”
dokja nodded, passively listening. this all culminated into the actual reason why sangah had come out of her way to ease dokja with pointless small talk—
“…i know you’ve just clocked in, but would you mind going over the budget report? us in the finance team have reviewed it ourselves, but as my senior, i would trust your judgement more.”
dokja raised a brow, unconvinced. it was very magnanimous of her to pin it on the finance team rather than her manager. “i understand your concern, sangah-ssi, but i’m not a part of your department. it wouldn’t do you any good to pass the budget report to me.”
in other words, whomever’s hands the budget report was last in, he or she would be the first to blame if something was amiss — which there tended to be, anyway.
sangah gave a pitiful smile. “i’ve always admired your work ethics, dokja-ssi.”
even dokja had to admit it: this was pushing it, if only a little bit. his work ethics definitely entailed piling up work his colleagues hadn’t bothered to clean up, and working overtime without adequate pay three days out of five working days. how was he within the realm of being admirable?
“in any case, you don’t have to fix anything. just taking a look at it is fine.” sangah inclined her head. “do let me know if there are any discrepancies. i can take it from there.”
at his core, dokja was still a pushover. just a look won’t hurt, he thought to himself. plus, sangah had covered for him the last time he called in sick, so he owed her something or other.
“you can forward the document to me and i’ll give it a look,” he said, simply.
sangah beamed. “thank you, dokja-ssi! i’ll bring you the fresh batch of apricots next week!”
that wasn’t in the discussion, but dokja would appreciate any form of goodwill his coworkers would generously grace him with any day of the week.
once sangah was completely out of sight, dokja hurriedly swapped back to his open chat with sooyoung, shooting a quick reply—
9.25 AM | yoo joonghyun
9.25 AM | now stop texting me during company hours
>9.25 AM | han sooyoung sent a sticker
>9.26 AM | u are overworked and underpaid
at this point in his career, dokja had mastered the art of simply not replying. he was idling on his desktop when his inbox pinged with a new email. sangah had attached kind words of encouragement with the document, which dokja’s heart somewhat melted at.
dokja clicked on the document, booting up his excel software. he nearly jumped in his seat when a massive, all-too familiar spreadsheet, which he was halfway through editing, appeared on-screen. “kim dokja’s definitive fuck list” — which he and sooyoung collectively put their brains together to name — loaded up in full screen.
this was not his proudest creation.
the spreadsheet painstakingly detailed the names, occupations and the general locations of the men dokja had slept with over the course of his adulthood, all to ensure his continued wellbeing.
such was the curse of being a half-blood. kim dokja, half-human, half-vampire, and the average salaryman, could only survive off of human blood. however, dokja was raised as a human more so a vampire, and his mother had stayed him off human blood since he was little; and by the time he learned how to walk, dokja had developed a distaste for blood, and the idea of drinking it. fortunately, this saved their poor family of two a lot of money, because packs of healthy, edible blood were rare and expensive. unfortunately, this meant that dokja had to rely on the alternative.
many half-bloods took to feeding off of alternative sources of energy to sustain themselves — the most common one among those who leaned more into their human heritage being food. dokja, as someone who was raised in a less-than-savoury part of town, and who was severely malnourished as a child, never got to develop his taste for the usual fare. he was unable to take most foods, let alone hold them down.
and then there were the outliers like dokja. he’d had it figured out when he was fifteen, lonely and just hitting puberty. he wasn’t in the right state of mind to explore this yet, so up until that point in time he had been relying on cheap blood packs. it wasn’t until college when he first tasted the delicacy that was man’s sexual drive, which fed him and kept him full for weeks on end.
one bad hook-up and an accidental reunion later, dokja took to documenting his escapades in digital, non-traceable form. this list was the fruit of his labour — and between him running the risk of getting caught, and stumbling into the same man twice, dokja kept it updated after every meal.
and so it went.
dokja huffed a sigh and absentmindedly added to the bottom of the list, yoo joonghyun, 33, ceo. and then, he annotated in a separate column: do not interact.
this joonghyun was his first attempt at a casual relationship, and they had been going at it for a solid, record-breaking three weeks. there were many perks to his ex — him being rich, first and foremost, and his face, secondly — but the one that stood out to dokja the most was how…otherworldly he was in bed.
dokja was bound, gagged and fucked against every surface of the man’s apartment, uptown and downtown, all across seoul. he was sure they’d accidentally christened his whole place; enough, at least, to satiate dokja the next week over. but, beyond that, that man had been crazy, obsessive, and a little bit insane. if dokja hadn’t snuck out last weekend and opted to cut things off, dokja was convinced joonghyun would’ve put a tracker on him.
his dick was big though, dokja lamented.
satisfied, dokja closed the tab, and got to poring over, with hazy eyes and a faraway mind, the budget report sangah had asked him to review.
at this time, his inbox pinged with another email.
dokja offhandedly checked his inbox. he was unsurprised when he saw the director’s rudimentary, company-wide email delivered every new quarter to welcome the employees; in fact, he’d even expected it. dokja glanced through it with half a mind before clicking off.
there was something to be said about chaebol kids like director yoo who rose to power simply through relations. granted, dokja didn’t know his boss personally, but after his recent stint, he’d had enough of dealing with men in power for a lifetime.
it didn’t take long for dokja to spot the mistake in the financial report. sangah was right — only someone of dokja’s calibre could sweep his eyes once through a report and immediately pick out the discrepancies, and he prided himself a little at this fact.
typing quickly, dokja wrote a short, cordial reply, and attached the document. he read it once, twice over, before hitting send. it was only a minute later when he received a response, uncharacteristically swift.
meet me in my office.
there was that godawful sensation of your heart dropping so low down your gut, it lied, pitiful and un-beating, at the base of it — and dokja was feeling it. tenfold. he fervently wished the earth had opened up below him and swallowed him whole; wished for the passage of time to freeze so he could keel over and die.
it was like pushing through time when dokja reread his message, and reconfirmed the exact file he’d attached.
good morning, i’ve gone over the file and made some annotations. do take a look.
attached: kim dokja’s definitive fuck list
delivered to director yoo, one minute ago. his boss, who paid his salary, which paid his bills. which kept the lights on; and which kept him alive.
dokja was mortified. at least it wasn’t CC’d to the whole company?
but he was mortified.
“shit,” dokja hissed beneath his breath.
on all levels except physical, dokja was spiritually and metaphorically fucked.
the elevator ride up to the 64th floor was simultaneously the longest and shortest trip dokja had ever taken in his life. when the doors slid open, cosmically slowly, into the director’s suite, every step dokja took beyond the elevator was a step closer to his demise.
this was like braving the waters as he was ferried into the underworld. he swore he could hear the ringing of death’s bell, signalling his departure. of all things, the image of director yoo sitting on top of the scales and enacting his judgement unto him was the most frightening.
you are deemed…unemployed. you may leave — his deep, unforgiving voice echoed in dokja’s ears; which was, possibly, the best case scenario. the worst case scenario was having to work under him still with the knowledge that his boss knew.
but now, standing in front of the large and imposing doors which led to the director’s office, dokja was at a loss for words. and air. he thought he might be hyperventilating a little, or maybe the oxygen had run thin, or the atmosphere up here had changed; or maybe he’d inadvertently unlocked the secrets to beating vampire immortality and he was in the midst of separating from his corporeal body.
he stilled his breath.
dokja knocked on the wood, waited for the lock to click, and invited himself into death’s embrace.
director yoo, cool, ruthless and intimidating and heartless, sat at his table, rummaging through a sheaf of papers; looking, for what it was worth, unfazed. without looking up, he gestured for dokja to enter, eyes still transfixed onto the documents spread about the tabletop.
after a minute or eternity of utter, gut-wrenching silence, he looked up — his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose — and he addressed dokja, in the deepest, most baritone voice:
“kim dokja, you’re on time.”
it took dokja only a few seconds to recover from both the sight and sound of director yoo — and fuck, he’s hot, too? — before answering, belatedly, “of course, director yoo.” and he continued, “before you address the issue, i would like to offer my sincerest apologies for my careless mistake. i should’ve looked at the files properly before forwarding them to my colleagues, least of all you, and i shouldn’t have brought my personal life into work—”
“kim dokja, are you talking about the list?” finally, the other man stood to his full height, hands in his pockets, and circled the table. his eyes gave dokja a damnable once-over. it was as if he was looking straight through his lies.
“yes. if i’m to understand correctly, that’s what i’ve been called up for.”
director yoo stopped behind dokja, leaning over his shoulder to whisper in his ear, “91 men. that’s an impressive number, kim dokja.” he leaned back, his voice carrying through the air, light. “how very presumptuous of you. do you think i have that much free time on my hands to call you up over a small mistake? it was a pity you hadn’t sent it to the whole company. imagine their surprise.”
dokja supressed a shudder, suddenly overwhelmed by director yoo’s all-encompassing voice.
when he spoke, he spoke very little. but when director yoo wished to tease a man within an inch of his life, he did not hold back.
“but that’s not why i called you up here.”
dokja’s breath hitched in his throat. “w—what is it?”
the man retreated and leaned against the table. he assessed dokja with this, unreadable, smirk — lopsided and devilish all at the same time. a dimple marked itself on his right cheek, his eyes glinting underneath the lowlight. his eyebrows, thick and shapely, fell beneath his soft, wavy bangs; his jawline the precise cut of diamonds. where in the company files did dokja miss the fact that his boss was a god given form?
“you get another guess.”
dokja’s eyes inevitably fell onto the plaque on the director’s desk — yoo joonghyuk, director.
yoo joonghyuk.
ah.
the universe found its cruel ways.
“that’s my brother you fucked, kim dokja. do not interact? you are a cold, cold man.”
at this point, dokja wasn’t sure what to react to anymore — the revelation that he’d not only slept with his boss’ brother, but that he’d also very visibly banned him; or the fact that joonghyuk had used that specific word, and did not seem at all perturbed by the list in the first place.
joonghyuk kept his gaze trained on dokja’s pallid face. he had to say something.
“your…your names are only different by one character?”
okay, shit, that was not what he had in mind to blurt out. his intrusive thoughts had overtaken his rationality, and now he was just making do with what little common sense he had left.
“i’m sorry—wait, i shouldn’t be sorry. it’s my personal life, and it has nothing to do with you.”
joonghyuk tilted his head, amused.
dokja started gesticulating. “i mean, it has something to do with you, but not everything. i didn’t know he was your brother, and i sincerely hope you don’t take it as…interfering with my work, or anything of that sort. actually, i shouldn’t have saved that list on my work computer, and i hope you understand and respect my preferences—”
“kim dokja, stop rambling.” joonghyuk stepped forward again, his hands hovering over dokja’s wrists, as though unsure whether to grab them. after a split second of contemplation, he eventually took them in his grasp.
dokja gaped at the hold joonghyuk had on his wrists, and how joonghyuk’s smirk had widened into a grin. his face was a scant distance away from dokja’s own, and he had the vaguest recognition of how dizzying and plainly inappropriate this all was.
“i’m aware of my brother’s psychopathic tendencies. i was just teasing you. i’m more surprised—no—offended, that he bedded you first.”
that was when time itself had stopped.
“what?”
“put me on that list, kim dokja.”
if dokja wasn’t already pale, he was sure that the colour would’ve been drained from his face completely by now — the blood rushing steadily down to his groin. from up close, joonghyuk was handsome, infuriatingly so; and he knew it, because he was crowding into dokja, his gaze moving from dokja’s trembling eyes, down to his lips, and back up again.
that drove dokja almost to the edge, and it took a warm hand on his back to reel him back to reality. joonghyuk leaned closer still, his breath now kissing dokja’s wet lips.
“you want to…sleep with me?” dokja finally managed.
“yes. can i?”
“right now?”
it was now 10 in the morning.
“yes. i’ve locked the door, and my office is soundproof. i could fuck you over the table, or the sofa if you want to. you can ride me on my chair, too.”
dokja glanced at the wall clock, compartmentalised in his mind the options he had: it was either fending for himself in the streets again in search of another partner, or this. he looked at his boss again, charming and willing and very, very virile, it was like a yoo guarantee, and he thought, yeah, i’d rather get dicked down.
as it turned out, the ridiculously massive dick ran in the family.
the overwhelming stamina, too.
as promised, dokja was bent over the desk, propped up only by his elbows as his legs were lifted, hoisted by his hips, over the table’s edge. he was made to be folded like a doll, and joonghyuk fucked fast, hard, and rough, dokja’s moans could only come out as an obscene, cut-off string of ah, ah, ahs.
joonghyuk hit his prostate like he’d memorised the spot at every plunge of his hips, dokja squeezing tightly as he pulled out. his rhythm was erratic and unpredictable — sometimes slow, like he was fucking dokja like a lover, and sometimes too fast, dokja was left trembling and crying onto the important documents rumpled beneath his body. his throat had already gotten hoarse from dehydration; and when he caught sight of the digital clock at the far corner of the table, he choked at the 30 minutes that had passed.
joonghyuk had been edging him for 30 whole minutes.
“d—director, ah, let me come, please—”
“shhh, not yet, dokja-yah,” and joonghyuk punctuated this with a thrust. “how long did that bastard fuck you for, hm?”
“huh?” joonghyuk’s hands bore onto his waist, pushing his torso down so his chest was rubbing against the parchment, his oversensitive nipples burning at the touch. dokja was completely at joonghyuk’s mercy now, pinned down and ass up.
“how,” smack, “long,” smack, “did he,” smack, “fuck you for?”
“i don’t know!” dokja almost screamed. “all night, probably?” he was being kind to him; dokja had conveniently left out the fact that they had an arrangement lasting three weeks.
at this, joonghyuk slowed down, and was only fucking shallowly into dokja, drawing out his movements. “how many hours was that?”
dokja was immediately bucking back up against his cock, desperate for its pull against his walls. “six hours.”
“and how many times did he make you come?”
“nine t—times.”
“hm,” joonghyuk’s hands left his hips entirely, and dokja could hear the rustling of fabric coming from behind him. “you’re being dishonest, dokja-yah.”
a strip of soft silk, which dokja surmised as joonghyuk’s tie, was looped around dokja’s skin. both of his arms were pulled behind him, tied together at the wrists and secured in joonghyuk’s vicelike grip. and then, dokja saw joonghyuk place his glasses down onto the table beside him; and oh my god, the yoos are fucking insane.
“do you guys have a rope kink, or something? yoo joonghyun did this too—ah!”
joonghyuk cut off dokja’s words with a thrust then, harsh and sharp and burying himself so deep into him, dokja could remember it for days. he murmured into his ear, “not only are you being dishonest, you’re also purposely riling me up. do you want me to break you in that badly?”
dokja was sweating down his chin, and his glistening skin felt sticky and soft. joonghyuk’s palms burned at the touch, and every spot he kissed left a wildfire in his wake.
does he know?
joonghyuk began grinding his hips, dipping in in mere inches, one hand cupping dokja’s stomach. “look, i can feel myself here.”
dokja gasped when he was turned around so he was on his back, his legs hooked over joonghyuk’s shoulder as he descended onto him. facing him, dokja could finally put a face to the sounds he’d been hearing behind him: joonghyuk, disheveled and yet shockingly pretty still, his pupils dilated and that one dimple marking itself permanently into his cheek, his lips lifted to one side as him and dokja both watched his cock go in and out, tenting the skin of dokja’s abdomen. his white dress shirt was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled at the elbows, a cold, silver watch wrapped around his left wrist. the very effigy of an angel.
“watch,” joonghyuk instructed; and gave no prior warning before picking up his pace, pushing dokja down onto the wood by the neck as he fucked him like he meant it.
“ah, fuck—!” and dokja’s breath was constricted by the large hand around his neck, choking, “director, s—slow down — aaaahn!” his legs were folded over his body as joonghyuk pressed down, his eyes clouded over and unfocused.
dokja followed the drag of joonghyuk’s massive cock in, out, and into him again. the wet squelch of skin against red, sensitive skin filled the air, interspersed with dokja’s short gasps for air.
“you want to come?” he groaned.
“yes, yes, yes, yes—please.”
“then tell me the truth, dokja-yah.” joonghyuk’s pace was ruthless and inhumane, leaving dokja to choke on his own sobs. “how long have you been fucking him?”
dokja was so, so close, yet joonghyuk kept dangling his release just out of reach. it was a tantalising spill, tipping over the edge, but at joonghyuk’s selfish insistence, dokja was continuously led to circle the edge round and round again till he was forced to come clean.
he wanted to cry. “t—three weeks.” he squeezed around joonghyuk then, as if to console him. “please, let me come—”
joonghyuk connected their lips to silence him, loosening his grip; and surprisingly enough, his kisses were soft and sweet, a direct contrast to the ruthless piston of his hips as he carved himself in dokja’s insides. “say my name when you come,” he huffed in between kisses.
“y—yoo joonghyuk?” another pointed thrust. “joonghyuk, ah! joonghyuk, joonghyuk, joong—”
“fuck, dokja.”
dokja could feel joonghyuk crumble above him, his body shaking, like he was drawing close.
“you’re so fucking sexy, so fffucking tight.”
his cock was hard and hot against dokja’s walls, so dokja clamped down, hugged around his girth to milk him dry. “come in me, joonghyuk. please.”
the facade fell. “i’m so close—fuck, dokja!”
joonghyuk finally, finally came, pulling dokja over the edge, too. he fucked dokja through both their orgasms, petting his prostate over and over again, dokja could feel it through his entire body; his blood buzzing with electricity, and his toes curling at the sensation, feeding off of joonghyuk’s sexual energy and sating him for longer. joonghyuk had spilled inside dokja so much, it leaked when he pulled out, like the juice of an overripe fruit.
they spent a moment appreciating the mess they’d made of dokja’s ass, gaping open and glistening with come, the rim pink and puffy and delectably swollen. joonghyuk licked his lips at the sight. he gave it a light slap, the pain travelling up dokja’s nerves to curve his spine, lifting his back completely off the table. he was overstimulated, still.
“one,” joonghyuk stated, matter-of-fact.
“one…of what?” dokja didn’t even sound like himself anymore.
but joonghyuk didn’t deign to answer. instead, he grinned at dokja like the devil.
“yoo joonghyuk! i’ve got work—you’ve got work!” at this point, dokja had skipped to the bargaining stage of grief. all pretences aside, dokja had just slept with his boss, for no other reason than because his boss wanted to.
by his calculations, dokja hadn’t needed to feed for at least another a week. now, be was sated for an entire month.
“consider this an MC.” joonghyuk started buttoning up his shirt, his veiny hands moving deftly up the seam to his collar. he unraveled the tie around dokja’s hands, and made a damn good show of tying it around his neck.
dokja was absolutely gone.
“will i still be paid?” he asked.
joonghyuk left a kiss on his forehead, uncomfortably tender. “yes. now go get dressed, i’m taking you home.”
dokja blanched, impossibly further. “what for?”
“that was barely an hour, dokja-yah. don’t tell me you’ve tapped out already?” he fixed his wristwatch. the metal gleamed beneath the morning sun. “we have another 503 hours to catch up.”
like older brother like younger brother. dokja gulped.
yeah, the yoos are really fucking insane. the both of them.