Archive of Our Own

If Taehyun could rip out every strand of his hair right now, he would, but he’d have to sweep it up afterwards.

There’s only so much you have to do. He’s done the necessary duties: cleaning, restocking, and refilling food for the next day. He even rearranged all of the snack items meticulously according to color—and it still hasn’t even been three hours.

Usually, when Taehyun does it right and the right amount of people come in, the shift isn’t as grueling. A truck driver or two would come in to pay for their gas, grab a snack and go, or maybe that old woman who mysteriously comes in every other night might ask for help and take Taehyun aside for a chat. That could shave off some of his remaining time, but she hasn’t come. Neither have the drivers who reek of tobacco.

Taehyun had ironically come to miss the smell that once made him flare his nostrils in disgust. Have they all agreed to never come back? Had Taehyun fucked up that one guy’s chicken fingers so bad that they’ve unanimously decided to boycott his store? Maybe that was the case. Taehyun sulks, hanging his head down low.

After sighing like he’s aged fifty years, Taehyun flicks another card. Five of hearts. It soars through the makeshift obstacle course he created out of candy wrappers and folded receipts, before completely missing the slit he made on the styrofoam cup. The card miserably joins the rest of its brethren piling up on the floor and his deck is twenty cards away from having to pick everything up again. Taehyun would be sad, but he’s arguably more sad about staying here for another six hours. In the middle of nowhere. Where his dorm is thirty minutes away.

Maybe distracting himself in another way would do him some good.

Taehyun’s gaze travels to his lab homework organized neatly in the breakroom. A huge stack of papers, his laptop, and ragged pencil case that he’s been using since high school. It was like it was taunting him, because the only way those papers would be visible from here was if it was placed in the perfect spot. It was angled perfectly too, facing the window and everything. Taehyun wonders if this is his past self urging him now to be productive with his time.

Taehyun turns his head back to the cup, and flicks another card. His brain is fried. This wasn’t exactly the right environment to be concocting scientific theories.

Suddenly, the bell in front chimes, and Taehyun almost topples over trying to get his feet off of the counter, most likely looking like a mess. Taehyun stands up so quickly that the swivel chair he was just sitting on zips across the floor, way harsher than he intended. A dull thud echoes throughout the store as the chair hits the wall, probably knocking over some papers Taehyun isn’t excited about cleaning up. Taehyun then wonders how the customer didn’t notice at all.

“Welcome.” Taehyun coughs, clearing his throat. He slowly slides his deck under the counter.

A cool looking dude. He bows the instant Taehyun greets him, the leather jacket he wore shifting under the tension. Really, how did this guy not notice the sound? It was pretty loud.

“Good evening. Morning?” He grins. Taehyun doesn’t miss the way his plush lips shimmer from the fluorescent above. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

Taehyun doesn’t respond. He pretends to be busy and looks down, but the other was clearly not convinced.

He was handsome. Irritatingly so. Taehyun rarely comes across anyone who looks handsome and pretty at the same time, teetering on the perfect balance between masculine and feminine. So naturally, Taehyun doesn’t blame himself for being somewhat fixated.

He had ashy blue hair, fit for the punk that he probably was. He’s dressed head to toe in stylish, baggy streetwear that only adds to the confidence oozing out of him, save for the tight, white tanktop he wore underneath along with the chains and jewelry that obnoxiously jingle with each step he takes. Taehyun feels confident enough to compare him to a clown that didn’t know he was a clown. It sounds mean, but Taehyun had seen it all before. The incredibly expensive looking motorcycle parked haphazardly in front is hard to miss.

It was merely by God’s will that the whole vehicle wasn’t toppling over its own weight, telling Taehyun that this man knew nothing about anything, ever. It checks out, anyway. Motorcyclists were always showy and over the top.

Taehyun’s eyes coincidentally find themselves glued back to him. To monitor him if he was stealing, was all. Suspicious people like this idiot were the people his managers first warned Taehyun about.

‘They tend to steal things they stare at for a little too long.’ His manager would say. ‘Report it immediately once you see it happen.’ Though Taehyun knows he wouldn’t actually do anything if he actually did shoplift.

Even when it was obscured by his jacket, there was no doubt he was muscular. Of course. Motorcyclists had to be to withstand the speed and the maintenance that comes with it, Taehyun reasons. But the irritation that came earlier bleeds back into Taehyun when he reasons a little bit harder.

His biceps are huge, and his proportions are.. objectively, satisfying to look at. An inch of skin is peeking from his tight undershirt that just happened to have skirted up, and Taehyun watches how the light above bounces off of each curve of muscle.

Insufferable. It’s cold here, and there’s no way this guy doesn’t notice while Taehyun does.

Taehyun blinks for a few moments. The store had gone eerily silent, and the cyclist had abruptly stopped moving down the aisle. He’s staring back. Their eyes meet.

The cyclist’s dark eyes have rounded into slits, imitating that of a fox waiting to pounce. It doesn’t help that he’s smiling, ever so slightly, like he knows something that Taehyun doesn’t. In the back of Taehyun’s mind, the first signals of alarm start to blare. Quiet at first, but annoying enough for anyone to know that it was there.

Taehyun snaps his head away, and busies his head with wiping the counter with absolutely no stains on it. The moment he grabs the rag, the stark difference in temperature makes Taehyun shiver violently, making involuntary goosebumps trek all across his skin. He wants the feeling to stay, to shock him out of whatever trance he’s in, but the heat crawls right back up his collarbones, all the way to the tips of Taehyun’s ears.

Taehyun’s thought about it before. He’s not stupid. Boredom can make you think of things you swear you’ll never think of, but you do anyway.

One of the drivers splaying him all across the counter, ripping his cheap uniform off while he shoved his dick inside Taehyun’s wet pussy. He’d treat him roughly, probably. Taehyun’s head would slam against the counter, unable to move, or the driver's hand would constrict around his throat, cutting off any air entering his head. He’d be dizzy and his head would pulse from the pain.

That could happen. It could definitely make his shift go by faster. Taehyun had once jerked off in the bathrooms when his perversions got the best of him.

But what were the odds of it actually happening? Close to none, that’s what. Fantasies were all it was. The closest he’s gotten to anything remotely close to intercourse were small smiles and fleeting stares, and even then he wasn’t sure if those were signals to something erotic or not. It was the same as tonight. The idiotic cyclist was no different.

Besides, he hasn’t fucked or gotten fucked by anyone in awhile. Taehyun doesn’t have time for that—not with juggling school, work, and all the internships and co-ops he applied for at the same time. If he did hypothetically get fucked, he would be walking in blind. Taehyun isn’t fit for that uncertainty, nor has he ever felt unprepared in his life. He’d like to be aware at the very least.

Taehyun’s hand is wet from gripping the towel. The sickly, bleach-like smell is filling his lungs, and the damp feeling seeps deep into his skin. It’s actually kind of gross.

“Hello? You still there?”

He almost jumps backwards. Almost. But Taehyun doesn’t, therefore saving some of the scarce amounts of dignity he had left.

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” He clears his throat. Wiping the chemicals on his pants, Taehyun throws the rag into the sink.

He slowly turns back around, and quickly comes to realize the cyclist’s presence was blinding. Powerful and suffocating. Taehyun’s eyes divert immediately under the pressure.

“Taehyunnie.” He reads off of his nametag, which was broken and practically living off of expired adhesive from the 19th century. “Cute.”

Taehyun barely manages to hide a wince. He hates being addressed by strangers, let alone at work, but the audacity this man has to call him by a nickname? Taehyunnie? That’s what his noona calls him to piss him off. The truckers had to have known he jerked off that one time, because this felt like divine punishment. All of the stars were aligning to piss him off as much as possible.

“Not too busy today?”

Taehyun gives him a look.

The cyclist slides his items across the counter. Some candy, an iced americano, and instant noodles Taehyun likes stealing after work. Fine. That eases off some of Taehyun’s killing instinct. Some.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. The thought of this man killing Taehyun did pop up a few seconds ago, but his order was surprisingly normal, and posed no ulterior motives. Unless he pulls out a knife right now, then Taehyun would be wrong.

He punches all of the items into the till.

“No, not really.” Taehyun manages to say, keeping his voice as level as he possibly can. “Would you like a bag?”

“Ah, no no, wait. I’ll take a pack too, please.”

Of course he smokes. It’s like the cyclist was deliberately adding onto his own layers of pretentiousness.

He points to one of the Raison packs against the wall. Taehyun follows the line he points to, leans, and grabs what he believes is the correct one.

“The coffee flavoured stuff. Yeah.” Taehyun resists deepening his scowl. “Do you need my ID too? Here.”

“Oh, I—“

Taehyun usually doesn’t ask for ID. His managers don’t really care, either. It was clear to anyone with working eyes that he was well above nineteen, but Taehyun takes it anyway to be nice.

Choi Yeonjun. Taehyun doesn’t even bother looking at the year (otherwise known as doing his job) because his eyes immediately gravitate towards his photo. It was slightly worn down from age, but Yeonjun was still posed in all of his smug glory, the printed colors unnervingly vivid. Instead of the dark ash color he had now, Yeonjun went for a dirty blonde at a much longer length that reached the base of his neck, curling delicately at the ends. He had much heavier makeup, too. His face was painted with such expertise around his cheeks, lips, and especially his eyes that he almost imitated a painting, untouchable and unreal to society itself. His jaw remained as sharp as it was now, a clear edge visible enough that Taehyun could drag his finger right across it.

“You’re good.” Taehyun breathed out, sliding the ID and the pack back to him before his mind noticed any more details about his stupid face.

“Whew. Thanks.” Yeonjun huffs. He spins the cigarettes with a sharp whistle, grinning playfully. “Do you want one? You look like you could use it.”

Taehyun furrows his brows together. Entitled. All motorcyclists are entitled. Does Choi Yeonjun needs to point out everything that bothers him? Has he ever learned social etiquette?

A more forgiving set of thoughts tugs on the back of his mind at Taehyun’s own reactions. What if he’s just being considerate? What if you’re just being judgemental?

The fact that they come about alone makes Taehyun worry about his own mental well-being. Taehyun doubts Yeonjun’s niceties one-hundred and one percent, and firmly believes that he’s only here to piss him off or kill him. There’s a rancid stench of mischievousness just hanging around him—Taehyun would never trust a thing this Yeonjun says.

“Sorry, but I don’t smoke.” He waves a hand in dismissal, ready to end this conversation and retreat into the break room forever until he leaves. “Your total is—“

“Come on. You look like you’d be anywhere but here.”

Taehyun pauses. Yeonjun’s elbows are resting on the counter, and he’s closer than he ever was before. He’s using the same smile from earlier, only now, it felt real. Like the last was just a figment of Taehyun’s imagination.

Taehyun could faintly hear Yeonjun’s breathing, even the tiny moles speckled across his face. Taehyun bites down on the inside of his cheek before speaking again.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You like to stare, I’ve noticed.” Yeonjun hums. “At my dick specifically.”

All of the adrenaline Taehyun initially had shriveled up into a sad, mangled up piece of feces. He glances to his left for a second, like he was looking for a nonexistent audience to cry to.

“What?”

“You heard me. That’s pretty shameless. I’m a customer, you know.” Yeonjun teases, frustratingly coy.

Taehyun stayed cemented in his spot, his stomach dropping down to hell.

“I—You’re abdomen, actually. Let’s not lie here.”

“So you were staring!” Yeonjun has the audacity to laugh, like he was amused at Taehyun’s rambling. It’s not amusing. He could lose his job right now.

“No. I was just taking the weather into account.” He says honestly, but Yeonjun doesn’t buy it, not one bit. It only makes Taehyun angrier. “You’re barely dressed properly. For a motorcyclist, no less.”

“So you’re just worried, then? About the..”

“The cold.”

“The cold.” Yeonjun repeats, barely holding back another laugh, a grating, agonizing sound that scrapes the drums of Taehyun’s ears. “Yes. That. Not anything else?”

“No.” Taehyun bites. Most would back off at this point, but Yeonjun’s expression doesn’t falter. In fact, he’s looking down at Taehyun now, using his full height, face plastered with a shit-eating grin. It degrades Taehyun into something incredibly small.

In an attempt to regain his bearings, Taehyun speaks a little bit louder, but it still comes out equally as pathetic. “Your total is—“

“You’re really cute.” Yeonjun smiles again, leaning closer. Taehyun had the full power to stop him. To push him away and to get him framed for attempted murder. Taehyun can probably scrounge up a few ways to convict Yeonjun of something irreparable, his body betrays him.

“Like, insanely cute. Did you know that, Taehyun?”

He opens and closes his mouth. Yeonjun stares right at his tongue right before him, licking his lips like he’s imagining the taste.

“No. I don’t consider myself to be, no.”

“That’s too bad.” He mocks, a frown pulling down on his face. “I can’t just leave you alone here. It’d weigh on my conscience."

The heat, mixed in with irritation, annoyance, and possibly arousal that Taehyun doesn’t want to address boils over and explodes.

“Can you just take your shit and go? You’re not as hot as you think you are.”

Silence. All Taehyun can hear is the beat of his own heart pounding throughout his own ears. Frantically, he looks up at Yeonjun expecting only the worst. He thought he knew exactly where this was going to go. This time Yeonjun would kill him right then and there with a switchblade he probably has stored in his pocket because Taehyun doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up.

Instead, their eyes meet, and Yeonjun is still smiling. His arm isn’t moving to grab any hidden blades, and Taehyun should be relieved. But he’s not. He’s livid.

Taehyun eyelid twitches. He’ll kill him instead.

“What? Can you say somethi—“

****

“Fuck, f-fuck,” Taehyun moans into his hair while Yeonjun gnaws all over his neck, practically humping Taehyun into the door with each desperate roll of his body. Boxes and brooms clatter all around them from the movement, even knocking down onto the floor but there was no space, nor time to dwell on such trivial matters. Yeonjun’s hands are squeezing over his ass and before Taehyun knows it—they’re kissing again, their mouths full of drool until all of the air in Taehyun’s head becomes nonexistent.

Taehyun had to forcibly rip his head away to get a chance to breathe, his eyes glued to the trail of saliva connecting their tongues before it breaks. Yeonjun laps up the rest. It’s obscene, and it looks like something straight out of a porno Taehyun would get giddy over. The only difference here was that it was real. Taehyun bites down hard on his lower lip.

“You like that?” Yeonjun chuckles lazily, fiddling with Taehyun’s belt.

“Shut up. Hurry or I’m calling the police.”

“Sure.”

Yeonjun’s cock was huge. It was digging right up against Taehyun’s crotch like it belonged there.

“Would you tell them how wet you are?” Yeonjun thrusts his hips forward, eliciting a long, drawn out moan from them both. Taehyun stumbles back from the force, his back straining further into the door like he was going to merge himself with it. His legs shake. To find his balance, Taehyun wraps his arms around the nape of Yeonjun’s neck, digging his nails deep into stiff leather. He’s probably damaging a very expensive item of clothing, from a person who is most definitely real, and who is hovering right above him.

He wasn’t a fantasy.

Taehyun whimpers.

“Ah—“

His belt clatters to the floor. Yeonjun shoves his pants down mercilessly and takes his time with the view, raking his eyes over the black fabric of his panties clinging tight to his thighs. Taehyun felt nauseous from the attention. It’s not like he’s never been naked in front of strangers, but to put it plainly, he made Taehyun shy. His thighs clench together automatically—like it was on an instinct Yeonjun taught him before.

“No, no, none of that please.” Yeonjun clicks his tongue, visibly distraught at the sight. “I wanna see you.”

Yeonjun props him up on a shelf nearby, and it miraculously stays together under Taehyun’s weight despite the ugly sound. Yeonjun then grabs ahold of his knees, spreading them apart like he owned him. Taehyun couldn’t help but moan from the treatment. His clit stretches aggressively, pouting a vulgar sound that Taehyun could’ve never made himself.

“Fuck. All I did was kiss you.” Yeonjun curses, clearly affected as much as Taehyun seemed to be. “Are you a virgin?”

The question gets Taehyun pissed again.

“Wh—what does that matter?” Taehyun pants impatiently. “Stop asking questions a-and just fuck me. Isn’t that how this is supposed to go?”

“What?” Yeonjun gapes. “I’m just gauging the mood."

Taehyun shoves his panties to the side in the midst of his frustration. The amount of slick pouring out of him sticks onto the fabric, smearing all over his fingertips.

He does look like a virgin, though. Taehyun couldn’t lie about that. This has been building up for a while, his hole clenching and unclenching over nothing like he’s some porn-pilled maniac. Taehyun, in a more sober state of mind, would be humiliated looking down at himself like this. But seeing him this wet only fans the fire in Taehyun’s core. .

“No.” Taehyun grits his teeth. His fingers creep slowly to his clit. “I’m not a virgin.”

He spreads himself apart. There’s thick tension on each joint of his fingers, causing Taehyun’s fingers to pulse in brief pain. Taehyun ignores it. The last thing he wanted was to show Yeonjun how violently he was trembling.

“…So don’t think you’re special. It actually takes a lot for me.”

Yeonjun whistles, his hands travelling up the bottom of Taehyun’s thighs. He puts on a great show, but Taehyun doesn’t miss the slight twitch in his brow.

“Mhm..”

Yeonjun’s thumb nudges against his clit, coating himself full with Taehyun’s slick. The sound that leaves Taehyun’s lips can only be described as pitiful.

“And what would you say is a lot?”

He breaches inside without warning, eliciting another poorly muffled whine from Taehyun’s lips. Yeonjun doesn’t take time for Taehyun to adjust, no. He sinks the entire thing in, which is frustratingly big for just one finger.

It takes at least two for Taehyun to feel like this on his own. Maybe he’s exaggerating with the adrenaline pounding and all, but he swears it’s true. Taehyun can feel his hole burning and tightening around just one digit when he knows his endurance is better than most.

Another. Yeonjun slips his thumb out to switch for his middle and ring finger, which were even longer than the last. He prods and probes inside like Taehyun was some kind of experiment, intentionally stretching his fingers apart when Taehyun least expects it to test his reaction. The air in Taehyun’s lungs is practically punched out of him with each thrust.

“This?” Yeonjun teases. “Wait. What about this?”

A third?

“Fuck—hnn, w-wait, that’s—“

Three. Yeonjun’s pace had devolved pretty easily after that. His palm slaps against Taehyun’s pussy every time he pounds his fingers in and out, blinding him to the stretching pain between his legs but Taehyun already feels dangerously close to coming. His mouth knows it too, because it keeps on blabbering nonsense for no apparent reason. It’s embarrassing how greedy his pussy is, how his hips chase Yeonjun’s hand every time he pulls away. But Taehyun can’t control the way his body is reacting.

“Shit. You’re so cute.” Yeonjun chants, his gaze fixated on Taehyun buckling over along with each and every twitch of his body.

“I should come here more often. Who knew you would just bend over, just like that?”

It was hard to keep thinking. Taehyun grinds his teeth down on his bottom lip enough to draw blood. Yeonjun was all he could consume in that moment, in the darkness. He was like a cancer, methodically deteriorating every part of Taehyun’s brain.

“Anyone could tell how much you wanted this, no matter how much of a bitch you act like. I knew you were soaked the second you saw me.”

Taehyun’s head snaps violently against the wall. A degenerate. Yeonjun was actively stroking his own ego, but Taehyun’s never felt this good.

“Gonna—fuck!“

“Yeah, Taehyunnie?” Yeonjun cranes his body directly above Taehyun, his pace never faltering. Taehyun’s legs spasm sporadically. “Gonna cum already? Just over my fingers?”

Taehyun completely blanks once the words pierce through to get to his stupid brain. Pleasure completely floods his senses and he’s coming hard, making a mess of his stomach and Yeonjun’s hand while he trembles like a dog with hypothermia. With each spurt of cum, the heat that strikes his skin is so shocking Taehyun feels like he’s getting branded, permanently identifying himself as some kind of slut.

“Huh. You actually did.”

He’s drooling into his uniform, his body sure to make an unsalvageable mess for himself the next day, all the while Yeonjun fucks him through it, when Taehyun is still working so hard to stay conscious.

Hurts, hurts, Taehyun hears himself think, but he feels his mouth is imitating the words too, so he’s not even sure if he’s speaking or not speaking anymore. But Yeonjun seems to understand in all the wrong ways—because he still fucks his freakish penis-sized fingers in and out of Taehyun’s dripping cunt. Taehyun’s hand half-heartedly flies to his wrist to push him away, but Yeonjun only presses himself in harder, earning a long whine from deep in Taehyun’s throat.

“I know, I know, Taehyunnie. But you can take it.” He coos, and Taehyun’s mind is close to breaking. “If you can’t handle this, how can you handle me?”

Fuck.

“I can—“

“Can you?” Yeonjun cocks a brow. Taehyun’s legs twitch again, violently around his wrist.

He finally pulls out, and Taehyun can breathe again, the sudden rush of air fueling through his head making him woozy. The aftershocks still linger in Taehyun’s body with every twitch of his limb. Yeonjun had just pulled his brain out, ate it, and threw it back into his skull, consuming all the rationale and logic for himself. Now he could barely function, Taehyun’s breathing abnormally erratic under him.

It takes him a second to register that he is, in fact, still breathing, and Yeonjun was fumbling with his pants, hastily zipping down his fly to free his raging hard-on. Taehyun’s pussy throbs again at an embarrassing rate and the mere thought of Yeonjun slipping inside.

Taehyun’s mouth hangs agape when it takes him a full two seconds to drag his eyes across Yeonjun’s cock. Precum practically spills down his length, veins sculpted all across it. Yeonjun even pumps himself a few times while Taehyun slobbers over himself like a dog waiting for his treat. He’d fill him whole immediately and Taehyun doesn’t know how to feel about that so he looks away.

“Come on.” He rasps over Taehyun’s ear, his hand latching onto Taehyun’s jaw. With a violent jerk, Yeonjun angles Taehyun’s head downward.

Yeonjun’s cockhead kisses his entrance, probing and prodding himself against Taehyun. “Watch me. Don’t look away now.”

Taehyun holds his breath, his teeth grinding so tight his jaw starts to ache. Yeonjun is sinking in, and he’s doing nothing but taking him in full—deeper and deeper, until his insides are ripping apart, until the tip of Yeonjun’s cock probes violently against his prostate. Before Taehyun could process it, Yeonjun’s dick had completely nested itself inside, disappearing right before his eyes.

He kicks, whines, twitches and thrashes around, but Yeonjun keeps him still, swallowing all of his cries in his mouth.

“You’re so tight. Fuck—fucking hell.”

He stills for a moment, soaking the moment in while Taehyun’s mind remains a complete mess.

Taehyun had never felt so delirious without the help of any liquid or substance. The dusty air in the closet had turned into a sauna, and the lack of oxygen coming in had probably helped in dumbing Taehyun down into a mere fleshlight. That—or the fact Yeonjun had his dick in him.

Probably the biggest Taehyun has ever taken, not even in girth, but in length. Taehyun felt like he was sticking one of those obnoxious toys up his cunt, the ones that looked like a tentacle or something that go for hundreds of bucks. Only now it was real, pulsing in him while Taehyun desperately clenched around it. He hasn’t even moved yet and Taehyun could barely keep himself from cumming all over again.

“Relax, jeez.” Yeonjun hisses. “Did I not stretch you out enough?”

Harsh fingers latch onto the bottom of Taehyun’s knee, pressing his thigh to his chest. It burns, but at least his slick has subdued some of the pain.

The shelf starts to creak. Yeonjun pulls out all the way, slowly but surely like he was afraid he’d slip out. All of that caution flies out the window once he slams back in with little to no remorse for Taehyun’s back. Tears sting fiercely on the crease of Taehyun’s waterline, and the second he blinks, they fall immediately.

He’s not able to recover because Yeonjun has completely lost all sense of control. After the first thrust, he’s devolved into an animal with no sense of rhythm or tact, drooling and biting anywhere where skin showed. Taehyun’s ears are pulsing in tune with his heart, the only thing filling his ears being the crude slaps of skin and the breaths that make his lungs cave into itself.

“So good.“ Yeonjun grins lazily. “You’re being so good.”

Taehyun chokes on his own saliva. He’s buzzing with arousal starting deep in his belly, itching to explode any second just from a little praise. Pathetic. Wasn’t he getting off from the rough treatment earlier? It’s like anything that falls from Yeonjun’s mouth will make Taehyun cream his pants. Even his body is confused.

Their position had deteriorated to their bodies pushing into a shelf that’s probably already beyond broken at this point. He can’t really tell. Boxes with expired items are dented, and some papers with unintelligible writing have fallen uselessly on the floor. If anyone else walked in, besides the two people fucking on the shelf, it would be obvious to anyone to deduce what they’ve done.

Taehyun wonders if he’ll keep his job. It’s not like he’ll be sad to go, but he’ll miss the ramen he steals.

This feels way better though. Objectively. He can admit with a sound mind that it’ll be long before anyone can fuck him like this again. Aside from his unbearable behaviour, Yeonjun was decent. Sort of.

His brain was tearing apart, and so was the entirety of Yeonjun’s back. Taehyun hadn’t even realized he took the jacket off until he swore he felt warm blood drip on the beds of his nails. Taehyun continues clawing all the same because Yeonjun’s cock is so big, and—

“Yeonjun,“

It’s all so sudden Taehyun can’t stop himself from keening loudly into Yeonjun’s shoulder as he fell apart.

With a twitch of his thighs and a little less of his mind, Taehyun comes again, ropes of slick clamping around Yeonjun’s dick as it continues to pummel in his tight channel, even harder than the last. Taehyun blinks in and out of consciousness as he filthies himself further, staining the floors in his own come.

“Fuck! Fuck, Taehyunnie,” He groans painfully. “Shit.”

Yeonjun pulls out (much to Taehyun’s dismay) to stroke himself properly. Taehyun barely catches a glimpse of his angry red tip slobbering stiffly over his body before he comes undone. Taehyun squeezes his eyes shut, too sensitive to witness any more.

It reaches the bottom of Taehyun’s chin to the lower half of Taehyun’s cheek, the rest dripping all over his stomach and his crumpled up uniform. Taehyun was a cauldron of his own cum and sweat. Mixed in with Yeonjun’s, his past self not even two hours ago would have crumpled his face in disgust at the sight. Yet, right now, it was warmer than he expected. His gut doesn’t feel completely empty.

Two hours. Huh.

Yeonjun was just hovering above him, his hollow breaths starting to even the more he stared into Taehyun’s fucked out face.

There’s a serene quiet they both end up sharing, way too intimate for whatever this was supposed to be. Taehyun’s perverted fantasy was never thought of after the fact—so aside from panting, Taehyun doesn’t know what to do but stare back.

“So.” Yeonjun’s eyes start to narrow. “Was I good?”

Taehyun flicks his forehead.

“No.”

*****

The sun is finally peeking out the clouds again. A warm mosaic of reds, oranges, and pinks paint the entire sky, a welcoming of sorts for the big burning star in the middle of it.

Taehyun stares at it from his spot at the register, a desperate attempt to distract himself at how utterly shit he feels. He hadn’t brought a change of clothes because he didn’t factor in the fact that he’d get his brains blown out. That’s on him, Taehyun guesses.

The doors chime and Taehyun takes an awfully long time to crane his head upward. His neck doesn’t like moving. Any of his joints, for that matter, don’t like moving.

The personification of the sun had walked in. Kai's bright white hair momentarily takes away Taehyun’s sight before giving it back again, beaming all the same. It was funny, seeing Kai. He looked the exact same as all the other times Taehyun’s seen him, but compared to Taehyun’s state right now, Kai looked like an angel.

“Good morning—“ He hums, but it halts to a sudden stop when Kai takes a real good look at Taehyun. “Woah. What happened to you?”

Kai sets his stuff down, the excessive amount of keychains on his bag jingling against the floor.

Kai’s reaction was understandable. Taehyun’s hoodie was up, the strings tied tightly together to hide the chamber of his neck. His eyes couldn’t open an inch wider, and his hair probably stuck out in all different directions.

“Did a bunch of teenagers come in? Did we get robbed?”

As he approaches closer, his nose scrunches way more than he should. Could Kai not express himself in a different way?

“Why do you smell like manly cologne? Taehyun, are you okay?” He croaks with genuine concern.

Taehyun weakly takes a sniff at his shoulder. The scent hits him like a truck—bold and brazen, everything Taehyun was not. He regrets accepting Yeonjun’s offer when he saw the bottle. Even if it did mask the sweat, the scent just felt insufferable like the person who wore it. His headache is pulsing even harder.

“I’m just trying a new look.” He tries. “Is it that bad?”

Kai’s eyes widen, bigger than Taehyun has ever seen it. He almost feels bad for lying, but the look on Kai’s face is a bit funny, so the guilt doesn’t entirely swallow him whole.

“Oh my god—I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know this was like a thing now? That was so rude. I’m sorry Taehyun! I shouldn’t have—“

Taehyun holds a palm up.

“No, no, it’s okay. Really. I know what looks better now.” He shakes his head. Kai doesn’t look any less ashamed. “You’re actually doing me a favor.”

“No! I have to make it up to you. I’m sorry. That was really shitty. I’m going to—“

Kai continues to ramble on. Taehyun smiles and lazily shakes his head at every object or various sums of money that Kai tries to give him. It’s at least thirty minutes before Kai hesitantly gives up, clocking in to do his opening duties with more vigor than usual.

They say goodbye one more time and Taehyun has to stop Kai from getting on the floor to bow.

The relief that washes over Taehyun when he punches his employee number in is nothing like he’s ever felt before. His car is a haven, the crisp air of the trees and dense nature has never smelt so fresh. The second he jams in his keys, though, his phone chimes.

Clicking his tongue, Taehyun fishes in his pocket to tap on the notification. It was from an unknown number, sent a few minutes ago. It held only one sentence.

‘when do you work next?’

Below was a picture of Yeonjun. Shirtless, in front of a conveniently stationed mirror put beside a luxurious couch. He must’ve stolen his phone without Taehyun noticing, maybe when he was in the washroom.

His eyes glaze downward between thick thighs covered in black sweats. Though the lighting sucked, the tent perching itself in the middle was hard to miss. It was also very hard not to stare for a very long time, so long that Taehyun’s own thighs started to twitch.

Taehyun shoves his phone into his pocket again and starts the engine, turning up the A/C on full blast.