Work Text:
Koh leaned against the bathroom doorframe. The image shouldn’t have been this sexy: Koh’s eyebrow rose in judgement, his gaze was all over Jira’s almost naked body as he stripped of his clothes to wear that dumb tailored suit.
“I had a feeling you were sly. But you’re actually pretty naïve”
“naïve? What are you talking about?”
Then Koh pulled on the elastic band of Jira’s underwear, tightening it. Jira shamefully lowered his gaze on the ink-written name between Koh’s fingers.
“so that’s what you wrote. My name”.
“you’re being creepy, you know that?” Jira whined, wishing he could slap Koh’s hand away in the same way you’d kill a mosquito.
“I don’t care. Do you think you can hide things from me just like that? Not even your underwear is safe from me”.
Jira gulped. Koh had the power to make him feel so small and miserable. He hated that.
Fuck him.
When Jira thought Koh couldn’t make him feel more uneasy, he surprised him again. Koh brought his thumb to his lips, licking it before rubbing it against the elastic band. Jira stared at the ink melting from his saliva, until Koh’s name was no longer visible.
Koh then made it snap back against Jira’s pubis, making him flinch. The damp feeling against it was uncomfortable. Still, he suddenly felt hot and familiar pressure grew in his lower belly.
Jira might have gotten hard.
Hoping Koh didn’t notice, he hid his shame under the tailored pants he immediately wore.
“let’s go” Koh said, leading the way.
Koh was a jerk. Jira knew that. He was nothing like that beautiful vulnerable painting he inspired. He wasn’t graceful and neither half as soft. Koh and the painting had only one thing in common: the reaction they got out of Jira.