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Agent Choi’s hand is calloused and rough. He can feel the strength in it, the work it has done, the way it has been worn down by the wooden handle of Choi’s jakdu. He can feel all this and more as that hand, that lovely, sturdy hand, trails its way down his side, branding its warmth into his skin. Soleum thinks he is the brush of a finger away from exploding entirely.
And the worst part? This stupid man has no idea what he’s doing.
Now, reading about and working with Choi has told Soleum many things: that he enjoys apples, is scarily adept at peeling them with that lethal weapon of his, and is not afraid to intimidate people with said apple-peeling skills. More importantly, though, Choi is observant. How many times has he pointed out some narrow loophole, or saved the day with those keen eyes of his? Those bright, golden eyes… eye-catching and soul-searching and the No. 2 danger to Soleum’s heart, at the moment. (The first is that damnable hand.) But therein lies the paradox. Agent Choi is so observant, so sharp, and yet so painfully stupid when it comes to one Kim Soleum and his blatant attraction to him.
Being ignorant, Choi has no qualms about treating his dear rookie Grapes with all the physicality made requisite by his personality and severe attachment issues. Which is how Soleum finds himself in this position: on the waiting room’s couch, stuck thigh-to-thigh with the man himself, with an arm curled around him and a hand brushing up and down his side absentmindedly. An unconscious movement that has Soleum overly conscious of just about everything. There’s a bead of sweat running down his left temple; he can feel it approaching the wire rims of his glasses with an eerie degree of awareness. All of it is far too clear: the way the air conditioning hums; the soft, fuzzy feel of the chenille couch cushion under him; those amber eyes; the low murmur of Agent Choi’s mellifluous voice in his ear—except it is shifting from low to, well, quite loud, actually, and persistent, and it is only then that Soleum realizes he has been looking deep into Choi’s eyes as the man speaks.
“Agent Grapes! How sweetly you must be daydreaming!”
What the actual hell? What is this guy’s problem? Can’t a man pine in peace?
“Pine? Over what? Not me, I hope. I have it on good authority that I’m quite the heartbreaker.” There’s an irritating glint in Choi’s eye. It’s almost akin to the look he gets when Soleum comes up with some seemingly-insane plan in the middle of a mission, or when the agent antagonizes Daydream employees on the job. He isn’t sure what to make of that.
“But I can’t help feeling hurt, Soleum-ah. Am I just some guy to you?”
Really, it’s moments like this that remind Soleum of the man’s mile-wide bastard streak. He ponders punching the other man, in the lips, with his own lips, for a solid two seconds before he realizes what Choi’s just said. The blood drains from his face.
Fuck. Did I seriously say that out loud? How was I that distracted?
“S-sorry, sunbae-nim. I meant that I’m pining for home…” Soleum stammers out, at a loss for a better cover-up. Against all logic, he continues, “I get homesick really easily, and I’m living in a motel right now, so, um, that’s why I might have sounded a little rude.”
Well, now he sounds like he’s homeless. Which—he is, but Agent Choi certainly does not need to know that. He can already feel his ears burning, and, as if on cue from some shitty stage director intent on turning his life into a tragicomedy, Choi’s knowing gaze shifts to his cherry-red skin.
“Grapes-yah, relax. I’m only joking. We’ve all been there before. A motel, huh…?” Choi looks away briefly, his voice turning something more contemplative before trailing off. Soleum takes the brief respite to trace the agent’s scar with his eyes, lingering on one particularly vicious slash. He flicks his gaze back up to the man’s side profile, a tiny gasp escaping him as he feels the burning hand on his side hold on tighter. It has all but ceased its movement, instead nestling itself around his waist. The thin fabric of his button-down may as well be absent, for all the sensation Soleum can feel. Even through the cloth, he notes the rasp of Choi’s calloused fingertips. He can’t help wondering how those callouses might feel on his lips, the line of his jaw, the soft skin of his wrist. If Soleum keeps thinking about all this, that blush will become a permanent fixture.
“Now, before you slip back into your daydreams—although I’m sure they’re quite lovely—I’d like your attention for a few more minutes. Agent Bronze has been considering…”
Soleum lets the words soak into his skin. That hand is still pressed close against him. He can feel the redness spreading from his ears to his cheekbones, then to his neck, and further down to his clavicles, and further down still… He’s distracted from his own humiliation, though, when Choi casually extracts his arm to roll up his sleeves. Well, shit. If Soleum couldn’t focus before, he may as well give up on being clear-headed entirely, now. Even as he mourns the loss of the agent’s hand, his eyes greedily drink in the sight of those forearms as they reveal, inch by inch, golden, scarred skin, lean muscles, subtle veins. And then, to his shameful delight, that same arm comes back down to its rightful place at his waist.
Huh? ‘Rightful’? What am I even saying…? Soleum’s internal lecture is disrupted by Choi’s voice.
“Soleum-ah. What’s with you today?” he asks. His playful tone has shifted to something concerned. “I don’t think you’ve heard a single word I’ve said, this entire meeting. Is something wrong?”
The brilliant redness is back, Soleum can tell. What is he supposed to tell his superior (and idol)? Oh, no, I was just too busy lusting after you to actually listen. Also, I think I’ve been in love with you since before you ever met me. My bad! He may as well confess that he’s a spy while he’s at it.
The thoughts running through Soleum’s head at a breakneck speed render him mute for a minute.
But a minute, it soon becomes clear, is all that Agent Choi needs.
“Soleum-ah. Can I try something?”
Confused, Soleum nods. Why not? Anyways, he needs to distract himself from Choi’s… everything. He’s so lost in his justification—which quickly devolves into a recap of everything he finds attractive about the other man—that he misses the way the agent’s face has inched ever-closer to his own.
Choi starts, “Um, Grapes-yah, I just thought this might… settle you a little bit. Since you’ve been all over the place. Push me if you want me to stop, okay?”
Now Soleum is a bit uncertain. But he trusts Choi, of course, so he puts on a determined face—“It’s no problem, sunbae-nim.”
A slow smile splits Choi’s face. It’s sly, almost, like how he looked… oh, ages ago, when he was scheming during the Mermaid Grave ordeal. Back then, Soleum’d thought the expression was out-of-place on a child’s face. Here, it suits him all too well. It makes Soleum feel like he’s about to be devoured. Wishful thinking, he knows, but the idea of it persists.
Choi leans in even closer, past Soleum’s face, to brush against his ear. Fuck, he’s definitely going to start blushing again.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers, and what choice does Soleum have other than to obey?
A moment passes in Soleum’s personal darkness. Another. He feels his glasses being dragged down the bridge of his nose, off of his face. And then—a pressure at his mouth. Soleum’s eyes fly open to see Agent Choi kissing him.
It’s chaste, close-lipped, and far too much. Choi’s eyes are open, too, and he asks: “Is this okay?”
What a stupid question. Of course it is.
Choi grins. “I’m glad to hear that. Stupid, though? How harsh of our rookie.”
“Fuck! Again?!” Soleum thinks he may need to tape his own mouth shut permanently. Before he can get too lost in his self-flagellation, though, Choi bends down to recapture his mouth.
Soleum gasps into Agent Choi’s mouth. Everything is so warm, wet, and overwhelming. Choi is sucking on his tongue, licking behind his teeth, withdrawing every so often to nibble at his lower lip and press gentle pecks to the corner of his mouth. Soleum can only clutch harder at the agent’s broad shoulders as his vision goes blurry and his face grows warmer. The other man pulls away a bit farther, still only a hair's breadth away from his lips. Looking into Soleum’s eyes—and here, Soleum has to fight the urge to look away from that intense gaze—he says, “Soleum-ah. Let me make you feel better.”
“But, sunbae-nim, I already feel so good.” Soleum is being entirely sincere: Choi has made his dreams come true with a few minutes of kissing. Obviously, he knows there’s no emotion to it, but that’s something he made his peace with a long time ago. What more could he possibly ask from the agent?
Yet Choi’s face only grows more determined, his jaw set, the playful gleam in his eye giving way to something more insistent. Almost challenging.
“My Grapes… you’re killing me, you know that?” Choi laughs. Soleum can’t bother reading into his strange tone of voice—his mind is stuck on my Grapes, looping it over and over again in his head. How badly he wants to be Agent Choi’s.
Their current angle on the couch is a bit awkward; Soleum is twisting bodily to meet Choi’s demanding kisses, gripping at his shoulders to do so. But he’s afraid to move out of that position—he suspects that Choi may come to his senses if anything disrupts their… their make-out session. Goodness, Soleum can’t believe he’s even thinking the words.
But Agent Choi, perceptive as ever, makes the decision for him. His hands, which had been firmly gripping Soleum’s waist through his shirt, rise up to Soleum’s chest and push him backwards, until he’s lying entirely on the sofa, looking up at a sight that knocks the breath from his lungs. Actually, it might be more accurate to say that Soleum dies and is resurrected at the vision above him. Choi is staring down at him with a kind of hunger that Soleum has only ever witnessed on particularly tough cases, his honeyed eyes alight. His warm brown hair is hanging down, framing his face, while the ceiling lights above him halo him in a gentle glow. His regulation black tie is loosened, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, sweat beading in the dip of his neck. Soleum’s face is bracketed by those strong arms, his legs nudged apart and—Soleum whines at the sensation of Choi’s muscled thigh making its way between them. Choi pauses.
Shit. That definitely made it weird. Soleum is a grown man; it should not be this difficult for him to restrain himself. Not even when receiving this kind of treatment from a man like Agent Choi.
“Choi-nim, I’m sorry. I should probably go… I mean, we shouldn’t be…” he starts, hesitant. He doesn’t really want to say any of this; why would he? But he knows that this is already quickly approaching something irreversible. Soleum wouldn’t be able to stand it if his Agent Choi hated him. It’s better to cut things off now. He expects Choi to agree and move off of him any moment now, to look away, shifty-eyed, and agree to forget this indiscretion.
That is not what happens.
“What? Soleum-ah—will you really leave your senior in this condition?” Choi continues, “Well, if you wanna stop, there’s nothing to be done about it. But I have to say I’m a little confused. I thought you were okay with this.”
Huh? Why does he sound so disappointed?
“No, sunbae-nim, I am okay with it…”
“Then why stop, hm? You don’t like it? It’s not working? Is this senior not performing well enough?” There’s a weird edge to Agent Choi’s voice. “Perhaps one of your goddamn company sunbaes could’ve done a better job…” All of a sudden, Soleum feels an inexplicable guilt. It’s not like he can tell Choi that this is his first time doing something so intimate, that he’s getting overwhelmed by the man’s sheer ability.
And yet: “No, I-I want it… badly. Don’t stop, I’m sorry. Please, don’t stop.” Soleum can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. As soon as Agent Choi wakes up from whatever stupor he’s in, Soleum is sure to be out of a job. But he can’t help it. This is everything he’s wanted for so long.
He feels almost like a passive entity as Choi has his way with him. It’s better than he could have ever imagined: he can feel the shifting of the agent’s back muscles under his grip, the gentle tongue laving over his neck, with perfect clarity.
One of the agent’s hands comes up to Soleum’s jaw, wrenches it all the way to Soleum’s right, exposing his left ear. His breath hitches when Choi begins sucking in earnest at the sensitive spot there. A weak moan escapes his lips. “S-sunbae-nim…” he starts, before giving up on coherent communication entirely. How can he hope to be lucid while Choi is removing his hands from his waist and jaw, only to place them on the backs of his thighs? The agent lifts Soleum’s legs up entirely, guides them to interlock behind him, at the small of Choi’s back. Cheeks thoroughly flushed, Soleum hooks his ankles snugly against each other, drawing Choi in even closer. Impatiently, he digs his heels in, too, making the other man huff out a laugh.
“Patience, Soleum-ah. I wanna take my time with you.”
What the hell can he even do in response to that?
Soleum settles for another soft groan and a yank of his own tie. It’s getting much too difficult to breathe in the small waiting room.
With that, Choi presses his body against Soleum’s once more, resting his comforting weight atop the team’s rookie. His leg is still between Soleum’s, and the bodily readjustment presses it dangerously close to him. Soleum heaves a heavy breath and hooks his own arms around Choi’s neck. Stupidly, he lets his hand linger on the scar, fingers gentle as they brush the knotted tissue that circles the agent’s throat, until they rest on Choi’s pulse.
It jackrabbits beneath his touch. Of course, Soleum thinks, he’d get antsy when someone touches his scar. How stupid could I have been? He must think I’m so rude… Breath caught in his throat, Soleum’s gaze shifts from the scar to Choi’s face, afraid of what he’ll see. But—what? This can’t be right… Choi is blushing.
The agent swallows hard. “You can touch it. I li—uh. I don’t mind it. From you.” The casual raspiness of his voice is obliterated by how much emotion is present on his face. Soleum… isn’t quite sure what to think, honestly. A foolish hope rises in his chest, fragile and timid but present despite himself. He forces himself to think logically: that furrowed brow, that rosy blush, that shy smile don’t necessitate romantic feelings. Certainly, he can’t assume that Choi likes him. But he is also at a loss for any other explanation. In fact, if he thinks about it, how had they even gotten to this point?
Settling me… wasn’t that the idea? Soleum doesn’t feel calmed down by any means. All of this activity has only sped up his heartbeat. Although, he supposes, Choi’s goal has been accomplished many times over—to have Soleum’s undivided attention. He doesn’t think there’s any room in his brain to devote to anything other than the man on top of him. But he tries, for a moment, to tear his eyes away from Choi’s scar, his amber eyes, his kiss-red lips…
Soleum is getting carried away. Choi is already ducking back down to bite at his neck, eliciting yet another wanton sigh from Soleum—no. He needs to be more clear-headed about all this. With great reluctance, Soleum moves his arms from their perch around Choi’s neck to the shaggy brown hair, curling his fingers in. For a breath, he contemplates using the hold to press Choi’s face further into his neck, blushing at the thought of making the agent give him more hickeys. Instead, he drags the man away.
Choi scowls for a moment, golden gaze honey-warm and all too alluring, even in anger. He wipes at his mouth, before realizing why Soleum might have stopped him.
“Baby, is something wrong?”
Baby? “Choi-nim. What’re we doing? Really. Isn’t this all a bit unreasonable?”
That stops the man in his tracks. Agent Choi’s furrowed brow slackens in surprise, as he inhales sharply.
“Shit. Sol—Grapes-yah, um, look, I’m really sorry. So sorry. I got… carried away. You’re right. I must have gone a little crazy just now, huh?” Choi chuckles awkwardly, sitting back on his haunches. He makes as if to get off, but Soleum’s legs are still hooked firmly behind him, keeping him in place. Choi drags one lovely hand through his messy locks, over his handsome face.
Soleum frowns. “Oh… right. Yes, it was a bit ridiculous. But, um, I. I liked it… a lot, actually. And, you know, it worked—I mean, it settled me down, like you said.” Soleum avoids Choi’s eyes resolutely. This isn’t something he can admit while looking him in his feline eyes. And… he has a suspicion that there may be more to get out of this.
Hazarding a glance, Soleum thinks he might just pull Choi in for another kiss. There’s a brilliant smile on the other man’s face, just as sly as earlier, but with an almost bashful quality to it. It is far too endearing.
“Hah… exactly. You know, you can always trust your senior to know how to handle his rookie! In fact, Soleum-ah, I know a way to calm you down real well. It’s pretty foolproof. We just need to get back to my place.”
Soleum scoffs internally. He knows exactly what Choi is up to, and he is very excited to be dragged along.
“Oh? You know, and you want more? Why, my Agent Grapes is so sincere!” Choi snickers at Soleum’s aghast expression.
Duct tape, he thinks, may really be a worthwhile investment. Or maybe the tattoo parlor will have something to filter my thoughts…
With a sigh, he pulls Choi back down. Pausing just before their lips meet, he tells him, “I like you. Don’t use stupid excuses to kiss me. Or… or to do other things.”
And he kisses the agent in earnest: tongue probing for access, whimpering muffled moans into Choi’s mouth, caressing his scar all the while. It’s so very wet, and Soleum needs to part from Choi just to wipe at his mouth, before Choi ducks back in again. Choi’s hands are roaming again—from the sides of his face to his neck to brushing up and down his ribcage. Just like he had done some thirty minutes ago. As they kiss, Soleum’s legs hitch ever higher up Choi’s back, prompting the other man to run his hands along his fabric-covered thighs—first the front, and then, creeping incredibly slowly, the sides and back. Breaking away for a moment, Choi breathes out, “Soleum-ah. Let’s get out of here, hm?”
“Yet another stupid question.” This, he means for Choi to hear.
The other man grins.
—
There’s an infernal beeping sound punching through the once-silent bedroom. Soleum rubs his bleary eyes as he sits up from the comfortable nest of blankets and body heat that he’s nestled in.
… Body heat? Soleum casts his wary gaze over himself, first, and—Jesus Christ. Was he mauled or something? His body—pantsless, for some reason, though he wears a too-loose Bureau-standard button-down on his top half—is covered in hickeys, bites, and other dubious trophies. A dull ache permeates his entire being. Agent Choi is, evidently, an animal. Soleum blushes as memories of the previous night arise, unbidden. But even as he wallows in undying shame, he remembers the giddiness of confessing, of seeing Choi’s answering blush and smile.
Having reacquainted himself with his marked-up body, Soleum looks to his right, at the man-sized lump with a conspicuous mop of brown hair peeking out of the covers. Soleum smiles to himself, lying down again. A raspy voice (God, that’s sexy, he thinks) calls his name.
“Baby. C’mere.” Choi’s eyes and bare torso are finally above the blankets, and his golden gaze is fixed firmly on Soleum’s hair. Why? Soleum looks around for a mirror—and his jaw drops at the rat’s nest on his head.
He looks back at Choi, whose messy hair still seems, somehow, model-perfect. That crooked grin only spurs on his displeasure. He looks away, mouth twisting—not pouting, mind you.
“Soleum-ah, you can’t just pout at me like that. It makes me feel awfully turned on, you know.”
What the fuck? No, really, what the fuck? Why does he love such a strange man so much?
“I love you too, baby. Get over here.”
Soleum does. That shirtless chest is awfully compelling, it turns out. The guy attached to it isn’t so bad, either.