122 — My Insanity’s an Artist IV (Conclusion)

Su Ah's POV:

Her knees almost gave out.

She found, suddenly and unpleasantly, how fast her heart beat. Like a trapped thing. If she held her breath and focused, it sounded as wild and panicked as a jackrabbit. She spread her legs apart so that Jae-il could walk closer, almost exactly like she had described earlier.

As he approached, she fought to maintain her steady gaze.

Not that it wasn't hard to stare at him.

He lowered his cap over his eyes, just enough that she caught a sliver of purple. Even with a shadow hanging over half of his face, Su Ah couldn't look away. His eyes were pale and vivid against the darkening shade, beautiful, a shade that belonged solely to this young man.

In one step, he closed the gap.

Su Ah exhaled, the rush of her breath all of a sudden obnoxiously loud. Jae-il's right leg was between hers, his shoulder only an inch away. It felt strange to be that close; something her brain still associated with hugs, or accidents, or accidents resulting from hugs. She leaned further back, truly a trapped animal.

Her hoodie scraped stone.

The jagged pieces bit uncomfortably into her shoulders.

"Come closer."

He listened.

Too closely. His body crowded hers, invading her personal space in a way he'd never done before. The space between their hips narrowed as he closed the final inches. In the past she would have bristled at him pushing in this intimately, at anyone doing that. Now she had a harder time fighting her body's natural reaction.

Jae-il stopped, momentarily, and in her daze, she wondered if he was considering leaving, or if it had occurred to him how utterly, gloriously insane this was.

He didn't leave.

He just… paused.

Like he was giving the last sane neuron in his head one final chance to scream abort.

Then he moved again. Her stomach flipped so hard she felt it in her throat. The tension. The rising heat. The burning in her eyes. The tightening in her stomach.

His thigh pushed fully between hers now, forcing her legs wider. The rough denim of his jeans scraped the inside of her thighs and she hated how instantly, pathetically wet that made her.

She couldn't breathe right. Every inhale dragged the scent of him.

His left hand came up slowly, knuckles brushing her cheek first, testing.

His right hand clasped shut around both her wrists. Not rough, not yet. Just enough that Su Ah felt the heat of his skin and the absolute certainty that she wasn't going anywhere. A firm grip, his hands digging into her skin.

She lifted her eyes. He looked back down at her, breath unsteady, unreadable.

Then, with a sharp, quick motion, he snapped her locked wrists above her head and against the wall. The motion pulled her hoodie and undershirt tight across her breasts, and heat splashed over the whole length of her body like an open flame.

He's really doing it. Holy fuck, he's doing it.

Their bodies fit. Perfectly.

His size, his build... everything was a goddamn fucking dream. Su Ah groaned, a quiet noise, cut-off. It shouldn't have turned her on, but her mouth was dry and her pulse hammered too fast between her legs, and her every exhalation was thin and shaky.

His grip tightened. "Like this, Noona?"

A soft ache bloomed where her wrists met.

"......"

"Answer me." He insisted, gaze dropping to her mouth.

"......"

He waited.

Su Ah managed a nod so tiny it barely qualified.

The panic had dimmed into an afterthought, a fading, distant echo.

Su Ah had often dreamed, fantasized of this very moment. Where she was able to freely touch and be touched, without consequence. She'd imagined it hundreds of times, but reality crushed every one of her delicate fantasies. In those dreams there was no scent of rot from some overflowing dumpster. No rough, damp brick walls biting into her clothes. No sounds of drunk assholes roaming the streets nearby. No footsteps echoing by.

They weren't in a bed with silk sheets and perfumed rose petals, candles surrounding them, instead of an abandoned, crummy back alley. They weren't even somewhere private. But was her location of interest at the moment? Did it really matter where? She didn't know. She wasn't concerned about the dirty, and the harsh, and the unfamiliar, but with what was happening to the two of them, in general.

Yet there was no embarrassment, and even less of shame.

Because all this had been her own idea. She was the cause and origin of her own damnation.

Puppeteering her own strings, and those of her younger brother. After all, wasn't her very own selfishness and lack of consideration the thing that sent them here?

His hand tightened around her wrists, his thumb brushing over her veins, like he was checking her pulse, and holy motherfucking christ—if that alone didn't get to her, there was that little friction where his thigh met the juncture between her thighs.

The seam of her pants and her underwear were all that separated him from her heat.

And she could've sworn a little drop of moisture coated her panties. Her eyelashes fluttered.

Jae-il's eyes flitted from her eyes down to her mouth, then back up again.

"This..." Su Ah somehow found her voice. "Is... where you start. Or should start." She choked out. Her breathing came short, fast, stuttery. "On... my mouth... and..."

"It'll be quick, Noona. Got it? I won't take it too far. That's my only bottom line. We practice, you test out things you were unsure about, and we leave. Got it? The scene might not need a fully drawn-out makeout."

"Uhm. Yeah..."

Jae-il only pursed his lips at her short and jerky answer. He lifted her chin, his expression once again unreadable.

FUCK.

Is he not being affected the same way she was being?

The firm squeeze of his hand locking hers was the only reason she didn't slump to the ground as he ate away the rest of the distance. The world tilted, spun, and flipped back in place just as his mouth lowered. It brushed her cheek first. Soft. Then lower. Brushing along her jaw. Then the corner of her mouth.

Her breath stuttered out of her. Then hitched as his lips grazed over the bottom one, then pulled it between his own, biting down slightly. A bolt of heat lanced straight between her thighs.

Fuck, fuck fuck. She chanted, mentally, knowing her mouth wouldn't work right now.

Jae-il clearly didn't have the same issue as her.

Because when his tongue probed, then licked at her mouth, sliding past her lips without hesitation and dragging wet and hot along the interior, Su Ah nearly bowed off the wall, arching, her hips following instinctively.

There wasn't even an inch of space between the front of her body and his now. Not a fucking millimeter.

They were practically one solid line of contact, like a weird new organism. Su Ah shuddered. His leg slid deeper; must've been an unconscious movement. Must have been.

Then her breathy moan, captured by the very thing stealing it, changed from something sharp and shuddering to something thick, low, and painfully, obscenely turned-on.

His tongue dragged over hers, slowly, filthy, curling and stroking until her own tongue was chasing his own on pure reflex, sloppy and desperate.

Saliva spilled down her chin; she felt it, cool in the night air, and didn't care.

It took her a full minute to figure out the game, to move her tongue right in return. Or, at least, a semi-good movement of her tongue against her brother's. There was no textbook instruction here, or clear objective, as she came to find out. It was instinctive, like throwing yourself in deep waters, sinking or swimming.

"Hnhgg..."

He bit her lower lip hard enough that copper bloomed across her tongue, then soothed the sting with another rough lick. When she tried to pull in air he just shoved deeper, fucking her mouth with his tongue as his right leg forced her to straddle and rut against his thigh like some desperate teenager, a useless, broken, keening sound ripping from her throat.

"Mnnnggghnn..." She choked out against his lips.

Her wrists ached. Her mouth throbbed. She had a vague awareness that if she struggled even the tiniest bit more, his fingers would leave bruises. But god, how much hotter would her insides be like that, remolded by his shape and his fingerprints for days.

Ah...

Who'd have thought that her younger, fifteen year old brother was such a fucking beast...

Seriously.

Su Ah tried to follow when he finally dragged his mouth from hers, breaking the suction between their lips, and a frustrated whimper escaped her throat. Spit slicked both their chins now, dripping in thin strings every time he drew back a fraction just to slam in again.

The wet, nasty sound of it echoed right in her ears. Was it loud? Could people hear them? Would a bunch of drunkards pass by, see them, and recognize the nature of their disgusting relationship?

How big would the headlines be?

Conscious thought was a fickle thing, at the moment. It came and went. Brief bursts of sobriety, before Jae-il sucked it out of her.

Her delicate, rosy tongue was stuck between his lips as he suckled on it.

Su Ah's hips rolled on their own, grinding her soaked cunt against the hard line of his thigh like an animal in heat. Every drag of denim was a sick little shock that made her clit throb and her stomach clench.

She could feel herself leaking through the fabric, a warm, shameful patch spreading against his jeans, but when his thigh flexed and then jerked against the aching part of her, it was a massive challenge not to immediately start bucking on him.

God, she was wet.

She didn't understand how anything could ever feel that good. If this was just his mouth and his fingers and his thigh, the mind-melting reality of him actually thrusting inside her, would surely kill her.

Maybe her heart was too fucked up to live, anyway.

Jae-il jerked her chin to the left and trailed his lips along her throat. His tongue flickered and laved and traced patterns.

Breathlessly, she arched her neck in offering and felt his answering groan vibrating all the way down her chest.

If he was trying to leave marks, there was a good chance he succeeded, but she didn't fucking care.

He was going lower and lower, and his other hand left her wrists and grabbed her hips, controlling the movements.

That was fine. That was perfect, because all Su Ah's attention went to the path his mouth was traveling over the exposed collarbone. She tilted her head back and bit down hard on her lip to keep her pathetic whimpers inside. Jae-il's tongue darted out, teeth scraped down, and then—oh, and then his hand slipped under her hoodie, and he pushed up her undershirt, the cloth sliding high.

His bare hand sizzled upon contact with her pale skin.

And—

The vending machine buzzed, rattled, then clunked.

A can rolled down the chute with a metallic thunk that cracked the silence open like a sudden gunshot.

Jae-il froze.

His mouth was still on her collarbone, teeth grazing the edge of a fresh bruise, hand shoved halfway up her hoodie, fingers digging into the soft skin just under her ribs.

Su Ah felt the exact second the spell snapped. His whole body went rigid, shoulders locking, breath stopping against her throat.

Someone was there.

Ten meters away, maybe less. A shadow by the machine, back turned, fishing the can out of the slot. The flickering light painted the stranger in sickly yellow flashes.

College kid, hoodie, earbuds, completely oblivious.

But close enough.

Close enough that if he turned, if he looked left instead of right, he'd see everything…

Su Ah pinned to the wall, hoodie rucked up, mouth wrecked and shiny, thighs spread wide around Jae-il's leg like a whore. Spit still drying on her chin. Bruises blooming where a brother's mouth had been.

Jae-il's hand slid out from under her clothes so fast the cold air burned. He stepped back, one step, two, yanking his thigh from between hers so suddenly her knees actually buckled.

She caught herself against the wall, palms scraping brick, a pathetic wet sound escaping her throat before she could choke it back.

The stranger cracked the can open. Pssht. Took a sip. Still didn't turn, instead, he walked in the opposite direction, merrily drinking away, phone in hand.

Su Ah couldn't move. Her legs shook too hard. She could feel the soaked patch on her jeans cooling.

Jae-il wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, hard, like he could erase what he'd done. Then he looked at her.

Really looked.

"Shit."

He cursed.