Title: For Starters
Fandom: Chief Kim
Rating: R-rated
Length: ~1600 words
Notes: Seo Yul/Kim Sung-Ryong, phone sex. A billion thanks to mergatrude for beta. <3
Summary: Yul's phone rang. “What?”
“I thought you might be missing me,” said Sung-Ryong down the line.


Yul frowned at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He’d thought his dinner with Sung-Ryong that evening was a date—that’s what it had sounded like when Sung-Ryong asked him, that’s what Yul had agreed to—but Sung-Ryong, who had repeatedly taunted him by kissing his cheek and pulling provocative faces when they were adversaries and then later when they’d joined forces, hadn’t made the slightest move tonight.

They’d shared a bottle of wine and talked about work, and Sung-Ryong had gossiped about the team at TQ Business Operations, but neither had said anything personal about the two of them. And Sung-Ryong had merely clapped Yul on the shoulder when they’d parted ways at the restaurant, while the taxi idled at the curb. Had he decided they should be just friends? Had Yul rebuffed him too many times? It had been a frustrating ride home.

Yul didn’t understand what was going on, and if there was one thing he hated it was being unsure of himself. He rinsed out his mouth grumpily, flicked off the light and went to bed.

He was just getting comfortable and drowsy when his phone buzzed with a text message. It was Sung-Ryong. Let’s meet again. Now. I want to see you.

You just saw me, and I’m already in bed Yul texted back.

You’re not asleep. Get up again.

Before Yul could reply—or decide to ignore that—another message arrived. Or I could come to your place.

I have a meeting with a witness in 6.5 hours. Go to sleep. wrote Yul.

There was a pause, just long enough for Yul to put his phone back on the nightstand. Then it rang. “What?”

“I thought you might be missing me,” said Sung-Ryong down the line.

“Not in the slightest,” said Yul, out of habit. Then before he could stop himself, he asked, “Why didn’t you kiss me tonight? Wasn’t it a date?”

“You always told me not to kiss you.” Sung-Ryong sounded surprised. “You said you hated my tongue.”

“When did I—?” Yul broke off. He vaguely remembered grumbling something to that effect at the team dinner after they’d successfully taken down Chairman Park Hyun Do, when Sung-Ryong had been teasing him across the table, blowing kisses and licking his lips. Come to think of it, that was the last time Sung-Ryong had done it. “That was before. That was in public. Don’t kiss me in public.”

“But in private it’s okay? I’ll come over now,” offered Sung-Ryong, like a shot.

Yul hesitated. “Where are you?”

“At the club.” There were footsteps and the creak of a door. “I can be at your place in half an hour.”

“Forget it.” Yul hadn’t been lying about the witness meeting. “I have to sleep. I’ll see you at the weekend, all right?”

“That’s days away,” said Sung-Ryong, audibly pouting. “I’ll come now.”

“If you knock on my door tonight, I won’t let you in.” Yul let his head fall back on the pillow. “What’s so urgent it can’t wait?”

“I really want to give you that kiss, for starters.”

Yul froze, imagining Sung-Ryong’s lips brushing his. In private. In his home. Going by Sung-Ryong’s tone, he might be serious for once and slow, a different kind of teasing. Yul wasn’t someone who thought about sex often. He’d learned early that life was a competition that could only have one winner, and he’d always kept people at a distance in his drive to stay ahead. But Sung-Ryong had a way of cutting through his defences, of stirring him up and bringing his desires into focus. Making his pulse race. He swallowed hard. “For starters? Then—then what else?”

Sung-Ryong hummed slightly, his voice deepening, blending with the dark of Yul’s bedroom. “Then—I’d kiss your neck just below your ear, if you let me. I’d breathe you in. You smell so good.”

“I’d let you.” Yul touched his neck to cover the ghost of Sung-Ryong’s hungry kisses. The bed suddenly seemed too big and empty, the sheets beyond his body cool and impersonal. It would be different if Sung-Ryong were here, watching him, his eyes heavy-lidded and intent. Breathing him in. “What else?”

“Lie down next to you, press my body to yours,” said Sung-Ryong, as if he could read Yul’s mind.

Yul flushed all over. “And?”

“Slide my hands under your shirt to stroke your back.” Sung-Ryong sounded hoarse. “Tug down your waistband and kiss your hip, down your thigh—”

Work was suddenly supremely unimportant. He’d reschedule the meeting if he had to. For this, he’d even risk that mocking gleam in Sung-Ryong’s eye. “Get over here now!”

Sung-Ryong made a choking sound. “Are you crazy? If I go out in public like this, I’ll get arrested.”

Yul’s eyes flew open in the dark. “Why, what are you doing?”

Sung-Ryong hesitated. Yul could hear the faint rustling of clothing and skin, and belatedly realised it had been there in the background for a while.

“Sung-Ryong?”

“I’m on the couch in my office at the club, and I’m, uh—less than decent. Does that freak you out?”

Yul licked his lips. “Because of me?”

“Mm, because of you. Thinking about you turns me on. But I can stop if you don’t like it.”

“What are you wearing, you pervert?”

“Same as when I saw you, only—my shirt’s unbuttoned, and I undid my pants around the time you said I could kiss your neck. Seriously, if you want me to stop, I will.”

It was so easy to picture him sprawled on the old brown leather couch, lazily stroking himself as he described what he wanted to do. The mental image made Yul’s stomach clench and his cock harden. Why hadn’t he let Sung-Ryong come over when he asked? They could be together now.

He scraped his fingernails through his pubes and touched himself lightly, brushing his fingertips over his cock, trying to soothe away the ache. “I’m kissing your neck,” he said experimentally.

“Yul.” Sung-Ryong sounded shocked and breathless. “Yes. Do it.”

“This had better not be a prank.”

“I wouldn’t. Trust me. I really—”

And somehow Yul did trust him. Sung-Ryong wouldn’t make a fool of him, not like this. “I want to make you moan.”

Sung-Ryong moaned as if on cue. He sounded ragged, no trace of glib jokes or irony. It was a powerful feeling to have stripped him so bare.

It swept away the last vestiges of Yul’s dignity and doubt. He focused only on what it would be like to have Sung-Ryong’s body writhing against his, his bare chest brushing Yul’s own, both of their cocks thick and hard. He threw off the bedclothes and shoved his sleep pants down to his thighs. “I want to use my mouth on you.”

There was a moment of shocked silence. “Have—have you thought about that? Why didn’t—I wish you’d said. I would have—”

“I’m saying it now.” He didn’t want to admit he hadn’t thought of it before, that the image of himself on his knees had only come now, out of instinct and desire. It should be humiliating, there was certainly no one in the world but Sung-Ryong he’d dream of abasing himself like that with, but with Sung-Ryong it wouldn’t be demeaning, and the thought of it only made Yul harder, more driven.

“Say it again. Please, Yul. Your mouth—”

Yul jacked himself roughly. “I want to suck you, Sung-Ryong. I want to suck your cock.”

“I want to suck you too,” said Sung-Ryong. “I want to make you feel so good. I will, if you’ll let me. I’ll go down on my knees—”

“Oh god,” groaned Yul, and came all over his stomach, shivering as if he had a fever.

“What? Yul, what is it?”

It took Yul a moment to catch his breath, for the world to right itself. “I lost it. Now you. Let me hear you come.”

Sung-Ryong gasped, then a few seconds later, cried out a visceral sound that started as a growl and ended on a hiss. “That’s it, that’s it, yes.”

“Damn, I wish I could see you.” Yul was sure the reality would be a hundred times hotter even than his imagination. Plus, he really wanted to kiss Sung-Ryong now and hold him, if only to make sure that this, what had happened, was real.

“Next time.” Sung-Ryong sounded sleepy. Yul yawned in sympathy and almost missed Sung-Ryong’s next words. “I really like you, you know that, right?”

“I know. Me too.” An hour ago, it might have been difficult to say. Now the truth slipped out easily.

“I thought for sure you were going to keep me at arm’s length for months, maybe years,” murmured Sung-Ryong.

“I might have, if you’d pushed.” If Sung-Ryong had kissed him after dinner, it was even odds whether Yul would have kissed back or pulled away, complaining. But Sung-Ryong had given him a chance to step forward first and raise the topic, and that had made all the difference.

“You don’t like my teasing?” Sung-Ryong’s voice was warm and smiling. “Go on, you love it really.”

Yul laughed under his breath. “I can put up with it, if it means I get to be with you.” He yawned again. “Now go to sleep.”

There was no answer but soft, deep breathing.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said into the dark. Maybe even before the weekend—that did seem too long to wait, considering. He’d make time tomorrow somehow, he decided, and he too drifted off to sleep.


End