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“You know, this can wait,” Gihun murmured against his temple. His dampened fingertips slipped through the gap in Inho’s robes to massage the spot right beneath his belly button, connivingly avoiding his beading tip. Inho grimaced, thighs tensed. “It’s the same every year. Once they’re dead, they’re dead. They won’t,” He laughed, barely an exhale. “-they won’t come back.” He paused. “Now that would be quite the show, wouldn’t it?”
Show or nothing. Inho had his face buried against the side of Gihun’s neck by now and lips pulled back just enough so his teeth scraped down the column of muscle, savouring every salt-slicked inch. He closed his eyes. He could taste himself against him and it was affecting him way too much. The back of his lids played white, violet and murky gold. The CCTVs played on and he saw nothing. Gihun had him.
His prize —his greatest living possession.
Inho sighed, smoothing his thigh with his palm, trying to calm himself.
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Bookmark Notes:
Sex party, Gihun is a vip.