faye valentine (yoonsoo) wrote,
faye valentine

★ sweet like, pt. 2/2

nc-17 + kikwang/dongwoon + 9,000 words
warnings: daddy kink, prostitution.
i'm gonna take you for all that you've got.
kikwang's side of things. it's shorter and more to the point than dongwoon's, by virtue of lack of execution. i like it, though. i hope you do, too. and make sure to read the extra linked at the bottom, it's not long, but it's actually pretty important...

sweet like
b-side: kikwang.
rewind back to the a-side.
Kikwang isn't stupid.

He knows that when a guy asks for you specifically time and time again, he has some idea in his head of what you are to him. He knows that guys like that think things belong to them and that they think people are things, too.

He knows that just because that guy is young (relatively), doesn't mean that he isn't just as lecherous and possessive as some of the sixty year old married men he's been forced to get on his knees for.

He knows that even if a fuck is good, even if it feels almost passionate, that's not conclusive proof that you're cared for. That's not love.

He's not stupid.

And that's why, when that same guy offers to give him the world, he considers it, he asks for his phone number, he doesn't let himself forget that this is what stupid, rich, lying-to-themselves men are for, and that he won't feel bad for it.

(He's not stupid, but—he did tell the guy his name the second time they saw each other. He's never done that before. He's not sure why he did it now.)

He spends a week languishing in self-doubt.

Yoseob says, "Isn't this what you've always wanted? Weren't you complaining a month ago because you said you hadn't sucked dick for three years for nothing?"

Kikwang says, "Ngh," and buries his face in the back of the couch.

"Hyunseung, tell him he's an idiot," Yoseob yells.

Hyunseung's voice floats in from the kitchen: "No."

"Okay, fine, I'll do it. Kikwang, you're an idiot."

Kikwang moans into the couch pillow.

To Yoseob and Hyunseung, the decision probably does seem easy. He's always complaining about money, he's always complaining about his job, he's always complaining about bills and clients and the things he wants to buy, but can't.

It's just not that simple when it's all placed in front of him. As an idea, it seems so ideal and simple, such an obvious solution.

But in practice—he doesn't know. He doesn't know this guy beyond how he fucks. He tries to pretend he doesn't know his name, like he wasn't asked to use it while riding his dick, like he isn't considering calling him something else instead, something that would come along with paper and plastic.

But it's right there on the tip of his tongue: Dongwoon.

Tall and good-looking and with a smile so stupid it hurts, with a dick so big it does the same. With a personality that makes Kikwang want to puke.

He's pulling on his shoes in front of the door when Hyunseung says, "Are you going to do it?"

Kikwang pauses, but doesn't look behind him. He knows Hyunseung is standing there, tall and modelesque and full of love for someone else. He doesn't want to look at him.

"I don't know," he replies, truthfully.

"We just want you to be happy," Hyunseung says and that—that's a lie, but Kikwang can't blame him for it.

If Hyunseung wanted nothing other than for him to be happy, a lot of things would be different. But it's okay.

Kikwang turns and he smiles, he smiles and he says, "I'll get there one day. I'm getting there. Thank you."

He leaves Hyunseung standing in his doorway and he makes his way outside, he stands under flickering streetlamps with a plastic bag in his hand and he dials a number on his cell phone and waits while it rings.

And when Dongwoon answers, he smiles again, like something beautiful and terrifying all at once and thinks, Got you just where I want you.

The card he picks up at the front desk of the Hyatt is for 'Angel Kikwang,' and it's so cheesy he almost wants to die, but mostly it's perfect. It's perfect, because this guy, this Son Dongwoon, he's so in love. He's so enamored.

Kikwang feels, for the first time, what is is to be a predator as he rides the elevator up to the twenty-first floor.

He's dressed inconspicuously and he knows it throws Dongwoon off, when he opens the door in his suit jacket, to see Kikwang smiling at him, all teeth and cotton clothing, a casual stride and wind-chapped lips.

Kikwang apologizes but he's not really sorry.

Here's the truth: Kikwang's already made his decision.

Anyone who can get this suite, anyone who can dress the way Dongwoon does, anyone who can offer what he's offering without hesitation—Kikwang will squeeze his bank account dry and do it all while getting the dick he deserves.

And this trembling, nervous man who pours him wine, who looks at him like he's never seen anything more beautiful, Kikwang has no reservations about taking advantage of him. In this room with a fireplace, with gold ornate decorations, with plush carpet beneath his feet, he's never felt more sure of something in his life.

Dongwoon was practically gift wrapped to him, presented on a platter, something for him to play with.

It's all by Kikwang's rules. No kissing, no love, nothing besides fucking and money. Nothing besides baby.

And, when he pushes Dongwoon to sit on the edge of the bed on the opposite end of the suite, nothing besides, "Now, tell me what you want me to do."

That's the key, honestly. It's acting like Dongwoon is in control. It's climbing on his lap and having hands on his lower back, being told what to do, but leading the whole show. Making himself sound more needy than he actually feels. Making Dongwoon think he needs it more than he does.

Fucking into Dongwoon's mouth when he sucks his dick, feeling Dongwoon's bruising touch against his hips, all of it exactly how he wants it to be.

(And if the, "Yes, Daddy, yes," that falls from his lips isn't planned, then he'll at least pretend that it was.)

Dongwoon falls backwards and Kikwang puts a hand against his chest and riding his dick in low lighting, while Dongwoon praises him.

While Dongwoon tells him he's never had anything better than this.

And Kikwang thinks that's true, that's true, that's so true, and he'll never have anything better after all this is over, either.

It takes him another week to move in and he spends a lot of the time thinking that maybe he shouldn't.

But he wants to be in every part of Dongwoon's life. He wants to be in his bed and in his kitchen in the morning and in his shower every night, he wants to be impossible to forget once he's gone.

He leaves that last part out when he says that all to Dongwoon when they're texting, when he sends him pictures of himself with his fingers in his mouth, while he waits for Dongwoon's nervous, formal replies.

He hates himself a little for finding Dongwoon's soft hesitation almost cute. He hates that sometimes he glances at his phone more than once, that he gets agitated when it takes longer than ten minutes to get a reply. He hates that even though Dongwoon takes terrible selcas, they still make him feel warm inside.

When Dongwoon texts him that he hasn't seen anything yet, he hates that it makes him want to see more.

But being attracted to Dongwoon—he can handle it. It's just physical, it's only natural, and it's nothing beyond that.

He doesn't need some thirty-year old who's never worked a day in his life for anything other than his bank account, for anything other than all the money he doesn't appreciate.

He stands in his quiet, bare bedroom, with a dog at his heels and he tells himself that he'll be back.

He'll be back and he'll be better, and he'll do it all on his own, just like he always has.

He isn't expecting the room full of flowers, with its bright lights and water spigots. He finds it while Dongwoon is gone, getting him a toothbrush that he doesn't really need. It's behind a closed door, but Kikwang lives here now, too—he even brought his dog, so he opens it without thinking.

He's never liked flowers very much, but he appreciates what it takes to keep them blooming, especially in an environment like this. He only knows the names of a few and he likes the feeling of their petals under his fingertips, likes that they feel almost too good to be real.

It's that room, that room.

When Dongwoon gets back, out of breath and embarrassed, Kikwang feels a pang of fondness in his gut and it's all downhill from there.

The third time Dongwoon finds him naked on the couch is the first time he fucks Kikwang with something resembling confidence.

It goes like this: he asks if he can kiss Kikwang and Kikwang lets him, but Dongwoon takes control. No matter what their positions have been every time before now, Kikwang's always been the one in charge. Now he's following, even if Dongwoon's lead is shaky and fumbling.

There's a stark difference between now and what they used to do in hotel rooms.

Because, back then, Kikwang only had an hour, maybe two, to impress during. He walked into a room ready for what was going to happen. It was never in the least bit unexpected. He begged and put on a persona that he knew would make Dongwoon come crawling back for more. They talked about what would happen beforehand and Kikwang outlined prices and knew that, sooner than later, he'd be walking away with money in his pocket.

Now he has a credit card made of black plastic, with his name embossed in raised gold lettering, sure.

But he also has one of Dongwoon's hands on the inside of his thigh and the other at the corner of his mouth and he's not sure where they're going to go with this. He can't say he likes it (he refuses to), but there's something like excitement inside of him, moving its way up from the bottom of his gut.

"What do you want me to do, Daddy?" he asks, head back and neck exposed.

And Dongwoon answers, without missing a beat, "I want you to be a good boy."

That, Kikwang can do.

He can be good at whatever Dongwoon wants him to be when it comes to this.

He's good at opening his mouth wide and letting Dongwoon's fingers in, getting them covered in spit and dragging his tongue between two of them, tasting salt and sweat and desperation.

Oh, Dongwoon wants this, he knows. They've fucked a few times around the apartment by now, but this is the only time there's been something electric between them this early. Kikwang doesn't even care that there's spit trailing out of his mouth or that his hips won't stay still.

Dongwoon's fingers on his chin now, he says, "Are you gonna make me come for you?"

"Yes, I am," is the answer, of course it's the answer, Kikwang didn't ask because he didn't know the answer. He asked so he could make Dongwoon say it in the late afternoon, the world curling tight around him and holding him in place. He can't move until Dongwoon makes good on that promise, he can't leave and he doesn't want to.

(It's Dongwoon, he keeps telling himself, Dongwoon who's got it bad, not him.)

It's all formality, the preparation, but some part of Kikwang likes it. What he's noticed lately, and especially this time, is that Dongwoon isn't gentle, but he's careful. He pushes things to the absolute limit, but never past that. He finds lines, but doesn't cross them.

There's a balance in the way that he opens Kikwang up and fucks him this time. It's calculated, but not clinical. Before now, it's been sloppy at times, a little too rough around the edges. He's always made up for it with the other things he's had to offer.

But this time, Kikwang rises up to meet him like steam off boiling water, like he just cannot stop himself.

Thighs around Dongwoon's waist, he's stuck to him, gasping as Dongwoon fills him deep.

He can't do much but breathe heavy, lick at Dongwoon's neck and jawline, let out little words here and there. Daddy and oh and please, yes, please.

He almost sobs with the feeling of it, as Dongwoon fucks into him, again, again, again. The couch moves underneath them, scraping against the floor with every thrust, knocking into the wall next to them with a heavy thud each time Dongwoon hits sweetness inside of him.

And Kikwang feels like he'll never get enough, like he never wants this to end and he says as much. He lets it all pour out. He says, "Oh, oh, yes—want you, please. Fuck me, please, Daddy. Nn, talk to me, don't stop. Please don't stop."

Dongwoon lets out a shuddering breath and just says, "I've got you, baby, I've got you," and that's enough.

Whatever was hanging heavy inside of Kikwang falls to the ground and he comes wishing they could kiss and wanting what he can't have.

Here are some things he discovers about Dongwoon after a week of living with him.

Dongwoon is cheap, even if he's rich. He buys things on sale and uses coupons. He drops money on big name things, electronics and his rent, but he skimps on absolutely everything else. He buys ramyeon in bulk and his shampoo is off-brand. He has cashmere blankets and silk sheets, but he doesn't like paying to see movies.

They stay in a lot. Dongwoon isn't unsociable, he's just lazy and there's something—there's something holding him back, something that Kikwang doesn't quite understand. But he'd rather stay inside, he'd rather spend time in his room with all the flowers, he'd rather fuck on the couch or just watch television.

Kikwang doesn't ask why. He respects Dongwoon's privacy and Dongwoon respects his. They watch movies together and sleep together, some nights, and they spend time together, but they don't ask each other things. Kikwang doesn't ask why Dongwoon almost never leaves the apartment and Dongwoon doesn't ask why he does leave.

Because, all things considered, Dongwoon is a private person.

Private and childish, with his figures and phone charms. He seems to spend more money online that he does in real life and Kikwang catches onto this, hooks onto it and makes a habit of doing the same. They get packages on the same days. Kikwang opens up boxes of shoes and carefully folded jerseys, while Dongwoon pulls out boxes labelled in Japanese and marvels about the paint jobs on one character's face or another.

Dongwoon is—well, a fucking nerd.

But he fucks so well that Kikwang forgets it, sometimes. He was good in the beginning, but he's gotten better over time. He leaves Kikwang craving more, but not needing it. The thought of him makes Kikwang's thighs shake and, what's better, all he has to do is find him and with a well-placed, pleading, "Daddy," he gets exactly what he wants, every time.

Because he's a good boy, a good boy, the best.

The fact that it's Dongwoon that he wants hasn't escaped him and that's why he needs to get away, more than anything.

That's why, at least a couple of times a week, he leaves and doesn't come back until the middle of the night, until the early morning.

He leaves Jordan behind, every time, and even he knows that it's so he has a reason to say he has to go back. Because admitting to himself that he wants to is not something he can handle right now.

No, instead, he runs from what's happening and ends up somewhere else.

Sometimes it's Hyunseung and Yoseob's place. He'll sleep on the couch and Yoseob will wake him up at five in the morning, like, "You really can't keep doing this."

Kikwang says, "I'm sorry," because he is. Because Yoseob is relatively well-off, but he has his hands full with paying for this place and keeping Hyunseung afloat. He doesn't have money to support someone else on top of that. Especially not someone else who really doesn't need it. And Kikwang, sitting there, half-asleep on the couch, realizes this and wants to cry.

Yoseob goes, "Oh, oh man," and sits next to him, pats his shoulder.

It should be more awkward than it is. They've never liked each other. Kikwang's always been Hyunseung's load, the guy he can't quite shake and doesn't really want to, and Yoseob's always had to put up with that. He's had to put up with petty jealousy from Kikwang, with undeserved dislike.

"I'm sorry," Kikwang repeats, "for everything."

"It's okay," Yoseob says and his hand on Kikwang's shoulder really is comforting. His presence really is warm and kind and Kikwang has been unfair to him for a very long time.

"I think I like him," he admits, not sure why he's telling Yoseob this.


"The guy I'm living with—the guy—him."

"Oh, right, well."

For a second Kikwang wants to apologize again, wants to take back what he just said. Just kidding, just kidding, he wants to say. Sorry. He doesn't know what came over him.

But, instead, Yoseob says, "What's so bad about that?"

"I'm not supposed to," Kikwang says.

"But," Yoseob shrugs, "you do."

Kikwang is at a loss for a second. Then, "He's—I was just trying to take advantage of him. He's never had to work for anything he has. I didn't even like him."

"I think," Yoseob says, slowly, "that you did take advantage of him and it was to get out of a bad situation, so that's okay. But—things are allowed to change. If you feel differently about him now, then that's okay. That happens sometimes."

Kikwang sniffs and feels—stupid, immature, and a little relieved, all at once. "You're right, I think. You're...right."

Yoseob smirks. "I'm always right."

"Shut up," Kikwang says, but he says it softly.

They leave the apartment together, but Kikwang has to walk most of the way back alone.

Dongwoon is asleep in bed and he crawls under the blankets and doesn't fall asleep for a very long time.

It's not even a week after that—the day that he comes home at one in the morning and Dongwoon isn't there.

Kikwang ends up huddled in the bedroom, with Jordan under the blankets with him, and his phone in his hands.

There are so many things he wants to do. He wants to text Dongwoon, to call him, to ask him where he is. He wants to leave and never come back. He wants to turn on all the lights in the apartment to get rid of all the shadows around him. He wants to peel back every part of himself to find something better.

Mostly he just wants his hands to stop shaking, mostly he just doesn't want to be alone.

And when Dongwoon finally shows up, when the bedroom is already swimming in early morning light, Kikwang nearly cries with relief.

He follows Dongwoon into the bathroom and he he asks him where he was and gets vitriol in response. He gets the closest thing to hatred he's ever seen on Dongwoon's face.

In the bedroom he asks if they can start over and Dongwoon tells him they can't. That he doesn't want to. That he'd rather they get better.

He says, "Baby," with Kikwang's hands in his, "baby, smile for me."

Kikwang shakes his head. "No, Daddy, I—"

And Dongwoon makes this face, all stupid and scrunched up, like something a little kid would do. Kikwang laughs at it without meaning to and then he can't help it. He's smiling. He's happy, for the first time in so long, he's happy and there are no strings attached. There's just someone in front of him who makes him feel this way.

So he kisses him and Dongwoon tastes like toothpaste and maybe coffee and Jordan is whining for attention on the other side of the bed.

It's gentle and Kikwang says, "Again?"

Dongwoon nods and lets him.

Again, again, again.

He pushes his way onto Dongwoon's lap, pushes him down and spreads himself out on top of him. He licks at Dongwoon's lips to part them and then at his teeth and the inside of his mouth. He tastes his tongue and presses himself as close to him as he can and decides that he never wants to let go.

"Baby, let's go to sleep," Dongwoon says and it hits Kikwang, then, that he's exhausted.

That he's so tired—and that he can rest now, here.

Here, here, home.

extra, extra, read all about it.
Tags: f: sweet like, g: b2st, p: kiwoon, r: nc-17, t: longfic
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