“What is?” Ki-tae said, trying to focus on Jin-woo’s words when all he wanted was to kiss him senseless for a start.
“Do you need to feed?”
That caught his attention.
Ki-tae tried to look away, but Jin-woo wouldn’t let him. With a gentle smile, Jin-woo tilted his head to the right and guided Ki-tae’s head forward. “I don’t regret anything about you, Ki-tae hyung.”
Ki-tae whimpered, moving his hips back and forth as his nipped Jin-woo’s throat. He wanted to, by God, how he wanted to sink his fangs into Jin-woo, to taste the sweetness of blood straight from his heart, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know what that would do… to either of them.
He pulled back and shifted to hold Jin-woo in one arm. He slid his hand lightly from Jin-woo’s shoulder all the way down to cup his wrist and brought it to his mouth. Bare flesh greeted him, and Ki-tae smiled. He lipped the tender, sensitive skin as he spoke. “The next time I feed from your throat, I will be buried balls deep in your sweet ass at the same time. For now I will feed here.”
Ki-tae brushed his lips across Jin-woo’s wrist once, twice, three times before letting his fangs slowly sink into his flesh. Sweet ambrosia filled his mouth as Jin-woo’s muffled cry caressed his ears. Somehow he knew Jin-woo was biting his bottom lip to keep from screaming. He drew on his wrist softly, steadily, matching each pull with a pump of his hips. He wanted Jin-woo to experience only pleasure in his arms, wanted only his cries of sweet sensual torture. Ki-tae withdrew, swathing his tongue over the wound—the enzymes in his saliva would close it, leaving no trace—and turned to look at Jin-woo. The smile that greeted him almost made him cum, but he couldn’t let that happen…. He had nothing to change into.
Jin-woo wiggled, releasing his waist, and Ki-tae looked at him in query, raising an eyebrow. “My turn.”
Before Ki-tae could respond, Jin-woo was on his knees, opening Ki-tae’s pants and taking him down in one long slide. Ki-tae bit his fist, containing the roar that so desperately wanted to escape. He slammed his other hand against the wall, bracing himself as Jin-woo did beautifully wicked things to his cock with his mouth.
He couldn’t have stopped the thrusting of his hips even if he wanted to. Jin-woo teased his tongue along the ridge, flicked it into the slit, tormented him with every stroke. Where in the fuck had Jin-woo learned to suck cock like a god? Never mind, Ki-tae didn’t want to know; it would only make him jealous. He rested against his forearm, pushing his other hand into Jin-woo’s hair, gripping but not guiding. Jin-woo didn’t need any guidance. He knew exactly what he was doing.
All too soon, Ki-tae growled low and loud and spilled down Jin-woo’s throat, hissing at the caress of muscles as Jin-woo swallowed. Ki-tae struggled to breathe as little kitten licks sent shivers through his body. He caressed Jin-woo’s hair, soothing them both. Finally he pushed away from the wall and looked down at a smirking Jin-woo. Ki-tae laughed before hauling Jin-woo to his feet and kissing him soundly, licking deep and tasting himself.
“You are wickedness incarnate wrapped in a sweet, innocent package…. I love it.”
“I was… inspired,” Jin-woo said.
“But you….”
“I did,” Jin-woo said as he rose to his feet, gesturing to the front of his uniform pants.
“I’ve made a mess of you again.” Ki-tae chuckled.
“It’s okay,” Jin-woo said, then pulled Ki-tae in for another kiss. “I came in here to change anyway… and gripe about you.”
“I’m sorry I worried you,” Ki-tae said quietly.
“Just don’t do it again. Talking is better than running away and it’s less likely to piss me off. I won’t be ignored or brushed off. If I say something that bothers you, talk to me about it. Don’t make assumptions,” Jin-woo said, caressing Ki-tae’s cheek.
“You sound as if you want more than just a fling, as if you want… a relationship?”
“Yeah, I do. Do you?”
“Yes” was Ki-tae’s simple answer. What more could he say? What he felt, it was bigger than anything he’d felt before, and he really didn’t know how to express it. Not to mention it was probably way too soon to say those kinds of words. And he still didn’t know what was real and what was the bond. Just the thought of the bond and what his options were made Ki-tae tense.
“What’s wrong?”
“I… I just…. I’m not….”
“Ki-tae hyung, this isn’t going to be easy for either of us. We don’t know much about each other and we’re probably not going to have a lot of chances to learn while doing this project, and this… attraction between us is…. I don’t know what it is,” Jin-woo said. “Still, I’ve always been drawn to you, even before we met, and I want to see where this can go. However you’ll have me, I want to be with you.”
“Why would you want someone like me?” The question was out before Ki-tae could stop it, and dread filled him.
“I can’t explain it, but you just make me all soft and squishy.”
“Well… not all of you.” Ki-tae grinned wickedly, hoping to change the tone of the conversation. He stroked Jin-woo’s cock through his pants.
“No, not all of me,” Jin-woo gasped, gripping Ki-tae’s shoulders as his cock made a valiant effort to harden. “And as much as I would love to continue this, people are waiting for us. We don’t want them to come looking.”
“Damn, you’re being practical and responsible,” Ki-tae teased.
“And you’re being naughty and distracting.” Jin-woo laughed. “But we have a job to do.”
Ki-tae sighed and stepped back, putting himself away and zipping up his pants. “Yes, we do, although it’s going to be hard to concentrate when I now know how those lips feel wrapped around my cock.”
“No more from you!” Jin-woo said forcefully, turning Ki-tae around and then pushing him toward the door.
“Spoilsport.” Ki-tae pouted, but he left Jin-woo to change in peace.
Jin-woo
BY THE end of the first week, there wasn’t a crew member around who didn’t absolutely adore Jin-woo and company. They loved the way the three students asked relevant questions, listened actively, and applied what they learned. The easy way Min-su moved from team to team with her perky smile and cherubic face made her a popular girl. Her sharp, practical mind earned their respect. The sound engineers wanted to adopt Jong-in, charmed by those dimples, his quiet demeanor, and his amazing ear.
In turn, Jong-in, Min-su, and Jin-woo hadn’t met a single person they didn’t like. The set and the studio were warm, friendly places with people who honestly wanted to help them learn the trade. They made them feel so welcome, as if they were members of the BLE family. Yet no one took to the three students as strongly as Bam Kiseu, and the crew joked about it constantly. It didn’t take long for Jin-woo and the others to feel comfortable enough to relax and bug each other the way they normally did when not at work or school.
Jong-in sighed dramatically, making Jin-woo laugh as Min-su smacked his arm. “I’ve showed you the steps a hundred times now!”
They were in the middle of a lunch break, and Min-su was still trying to master the dance steps to “Heat.” She was always obsessed with the choreography of Bam Kiseu’s videos. He couldn’t blame her. Dancing was fun, and though he claimed to have two left feet, Jong-in was, in fact, a talented dancer. He just didn’t like to brag about things. He didn’t really brag about anything. Okay, every once in a while, he did boast about his engineering, but those moments were few and far between, and not undeserved.
“Show me again,” she insisted. She pulled him to his feet once more, dragging him away from his lunch, and made him stand next to her.
“I’ll do it slowly, and you just watch my feet. Then copy my steps,” Jong-in said. Min-su nodded, already focused.
After about ten minutes, the frustration was clear on Min-su’s face.
“I don’t get it. I’ve been able to learn all the other dance steps but this one,” she said. “I don’t kn
ow why I can’t seem to get that first move right.”
“You’re moving your entire body at once, and that’s throwing everything off,” Cheongul said, suddenly right next to her. “You start with sliding your front foot back like this, shifting your weight as you go so you can slide the other foot back next. Your shoulder leads the motion, and then the rest of you flows right into the body roll.”
Min-su gave a yelp and smacked Cheongul on the arm, her standard response to being startled.
“Don’t do that! You’re not supposed to be helping. You’re supposed to be over there looking all hot and sexy and completely edible, not over here teaching me dance moves and being all nice and shit.” When Jin-woo snorted, nearly sending milk through his nose, her eyes got wide, and she looked back and forth between him and Cheongul. “That wasn’t in my head, was it?”
“No, no, it wasn’t,” Jin-woo said solemnly, trying very hard not to laugh as she blushed furiously.
She turned to Cheongul and bowed formally. “If you will please excuse me, I must go find a very deep, dark hole in which to bury myself for the rest of eternity.”
Then she turned on her bright red Chucks and walked away as regally as any empress. Jin-woo and Jong-in lost it, falling over with their laughter. Cheongul looked flummoxed as he stared after her. He turned back to Jin-woo. “What just happened?”
“Min-su-ya prides herself on being able to remain professional, no matter what she may be feeling on the inside. She doesn’t get overly emotional or demonstrative around people she’s not comfortable with,” Jin-woo explained.
“She hit me,” Cheongul said.
“She hits Jin-woo-ya all the time,” Jong-in pointed out, taking a sip of his ginger tea.
“But not you?” Cheongul asked.
“I dodge, but he never sees her coming until she’s already smacked him,” Jong-in said, earning a cheese puff thrown at his head. “What? It’s true!”
“You make me sound like an unobservant wimp,” Jin-woo grumbled.
“Unobservant? Depends on the situation, but wimp? Hardly.” Jong-in snorted. “Either way, Min-su-ya doesn’t do shy and demure. She can be poised and confident or feisty and hilarious. It just depends on where she is and who she’s with. You startled her, and she reacted the same way she would with me or Jin-woo-ya. That’s a good sign. It means she’s comfortable with you.”
“Provided, of course, you like that in a woman,” Jin-woo said, contemplating a cheese puff before popping it in his mouth. His casual tone didn’t quite match the look he shot at Cheongul.
“You’re acting like her older brothers,” Cheongul said with a smile. “Not as overprotective as I am of my mine, but subtler.”
“Are you seriously doing the ‘if you hurt my brothers’ shit? Already?” HanYin demanded from behind Cheongul.
“I didn’t realize you three were related,” Jin-woo said.
“Not by birth, but we might as well be. We’re just very protective of each other, and some of us take it a little too far.” He glared at Cheongul as he set several bags on the table. “He really doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“No, that’s a good thing,” Jong-in said. “It’s good to know someone has your back. Wait… do I smell… steamed dumplings?”
HanYin smiled as he pulled containers out of the bags. “You have a good nose.”
“We were not lying about Jong-in-a and food,” Jin-woo said. “And steamed dumplings are one of his favorites.”
“He may have to fight Ki-tae-ya for them.” Cheongul chuckled.
“There’s enough for everyone, and I made Ki-tae’s Shiu Mai dumplings, so no worries,” HanYin said. “Help yourselves while I take this batch to Tae-hwa nuna.”
“He made her a special batch?” Jong-in asked as he carefully took one of the dumplings, his voice soft and almost sad.
“Yeah, Tae-hwa nuna is a vegetarian, so he always makes sure to have a dish she can eat,” Cheongul said.
“Are they a couple?” Jong-in asked, nibbling on the dumpling.
“HanYin-a and Tae-hwa nuna?” At Jong-in’s nod, Cheongul laughed. “No, her husband would kill him… or try, at any rate. He is very much in love with his wife, and she with him. See?”
Cheongul pointed over to the director’s seat, where HanYin was handing a very large man the container of dumplings. “That’s Cho Shin-bai hyung. He’s head of off-site security. Well, all of security, but he tends to handle off-site for us personally. He’s so far gone on Tae-hwa nuna it’s not even funny. Ancestors help anyone who makes her even sniffle. He’ll kill them, and he’s going to be worse when the baby is born. HanYin-a isn’t seeing anyone at present.”
Shin-bai then ruffled HanYin’s hair and began hand-feeding his clearly pregnant wife as she bounced like a little kid, clapping. She and Shin-bai were a distinct contrast. Where she was petite, topping maybe five feet, Shin-bai towered over her at six and a half feet minimum. He had a dark head of hair cut close, deeply tanned skin, narrow eyes, and thin lips, while Tae-hwa had a white-blonde pixie cut, large doe eyes, full lips, and lightly tanned skin. She was slender and willowy while he was built like a tank. Yet the gentle way he scooped her up and set her on the nearest table to feed her conveyed more than words ever could, just as her smile and the look in her eyes told the same story; they loved each other.
“Oh.” Jong-in’s voice seemed a little lighter than before, and Jin-woo looked at him, saw him smiling, those dimples peeking out. It looked as if Jong-in’s interest in HanYin was deepening. He just hoped Jong-in wouldn’t get hurt. They didn’t even know if HanYin was interested in men, and that was a very delicate question in and of itself. It could get so many different responses, not all of them good.
Jong-in
JONG-IN FELT giddy, as if he’d drank too much. HanYin was single. He was simply amazing, beautiful, talented, and adorable as hell. He was exactly the type of person Jong-in often pictured himself with. And HanYin could cook. The dumplings were amazing.
“If you keep smiling like that, your dimples are going to crack,” Jin-woo murmured softly, elbowing Jong-in in the side. “You’re grinning like an idiot.”
“I can’t help it,” Jong-in said.
“Well, then, do something about it,” Jin-woo said as he nudged Jong-in in HanYin’s direction. “Go talk to him.”
“What could we possibly have to say to each other?”
“How about ‘these dumplings are amazing’? That would be a good start,” Jin-woo said, taking one and biting into it.
“What’s the point?” Jong-in lost his smile as he watched HanYin move through the people, everyone vying for his attention, male and female. “No, better I just keep these thoughts to myself.”
“You truly don’t see it, do you?” Jin-woo said. He sounded surprised.
Jong-in turned to look at him, confused. “Don’t see what?”
“I had wondered why you wore your glasses to the presentation when you normally wear your contacts.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jong-in said, feeling the rock settle in his stomach. He glanced at Jin-woo and knew he didn’t want to continue this conversation. It was too complicated, too personal, and he wasn’t ready to discuss it with anyone. “I have to get back to work.”
He rushed away, not giving Jin-woo a chance to stop him. He couldn’t talk about this right now, not here, where anyone and everyone could overhear them. Jong-in found a secluded corner and hopped up to sit on one of the large equipment cases. He could hear the words bouncing around in his head, feel the fear settling in his gut, and couldn’t take it.
He pulled out his phone, put his earphones in, and hit Play as he pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, dropping his forehead to rest on his knees, hiding. He wanted to lose himself in the music. That way he wouldn’t have to think about anything. He wouldn’t have to think about how attracted he was to HanYin, the only man, the only person, who had ever caught his eye. He wouldn’t have to th
ink about how he was going to continue to pay for university. He wouldn’t have to think about what would happen if his father found out Jong-in liked a man. He would never be allowed to see his mother or sister again. He was barely allowed to see them now. He was only permitted home once or twice a year, if he was lucky. His father hated him. Well, no, he wasn’t his father. He was Jong-in’s stepfather, and they had never really gotten along.
He hadn’t been able to go to the concert with Min-su and Jin-woo because he had to work. When he wasn’t studying, he was working all the time. That’s all he ever did: study, work, and on the rare occasion, sleep. Jong-in smiled sadly. His mother was the best cook in the world and had made all his favorite meals when his father was alive. She would make special little cakes for them. She would make their noodles from scratch, their dumplings, everything was done by her hands. Every bite was filled with her love for them.
Then Jong-in’s father died in a train accident on the way home from work, and the food was flavored with her sadness. When she married again, Jong-in’s stepfather put an end to all that. He never tasted his mother’s cooking anymore. Jong-in turned the sound up louder.
HanYin’s food tasted like his mother’s food once did. It broke something in him. Something he needed to prevent him from thinking about everything that was lost to him: his father, his mother, his family. It was just one more thing about HanYin that wrapped around Jong-in’s heart. He hadn’t expected it. When he first saw a picture of HanYin, Jong-in felt as if he’d been kicked in the chest. Then he listened to the full album online and knew immediately which one was which. He could be blindfolded and in a darkened room, and Jong-in would be able to recognize the voices from a single note.
HanYin’s voice sent a shiver through his body that made nerve endings fire in ways he hadn’t ever experienced with a woman, no matter how he tried. Jong-in knew he wasn’t meant to be with a woman, but what could HanYin possibly see in Jong-in? He was a poor boy struggling to stay in university. He worked two jobs when he wasn’t studying. He never had time to have fun with his friends. He wasn’t boisterous or talkative around most people. Jin-woo had mentioned his glasses. He was right. Jong-in normally didn’t wear them because contacts were easier at his factory job. And they were a shield. He hid behind his glasses because when he wore them, people didn’t notice him as much. And if they didn’t notice him, they couldn’t find out he was a poor boy who had fallen in love at first sound with another man. If they didn’t notice him, Jong-in could go about his business without being bothered or harangued or beaten. That was an experience he could do without repeating.
Night Kiss Page 12