Chapter Text
It’s a slow day.
The kind of slow day where the departemento de policia at the intersection of Avenida Morado and 5 de Enero’s biggest crisis was calling officers away from downtown on parade security duty and sending them uptown in order to help the volunteers at the senior center dismantle the temporary stage that had been built in the Plaza de Domingo for their monthly bingo tournament. Yes.
The kind of day where Kevin hand wrote a ‘please do not pet the dog’ sign and hung it around Hyuk’s neck so that he wouldn’t shout himself hoarse going “please do not pet the dog” repeatedly over the noise of hammers and leaf blowers at the clean-up site.
And that had been four hours ago.
Nothing at all had happened since then. Not even a cat stuck up a tree.
Even the heated argument between the owner of the churro food truck and the owner of the arepa food truck did not devolve into physical blows, although Kevin is sure that makes him a bad person for wanting that.
So… It’s a slow day.
Kevin can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, though. A slow town means a safe town, after all, but a bored Hyuk means a clingy Hyuk.
Kevin sets a can of soda from the vending machine on his desk behind the counter and attempts to sit but can’t even get halfway down before he hears heavy footsteps bounding up behind him. There’s a rush of movement and an upward tick in the temperature of the air immediately behind him. He’s not surprised at all when he finishes sitting and finds himself perched on Hyuk’s lap as opposed to the office chair where he intended to park his ass.
“Buenas tardes, Kev,” Hyuk greets him, his breath warm on the back of Kevin’s neck.
“Hyuk, we’ve been working together all day.”
“But it’s been so long since we last spoke!”
“We just saw each other two minutes ago,” says Kevin. Because it took approximately two minutes to get up, walk down the police station’s back hallway, feed the vending machine his spare change and then come back.
“More like two years ,” Hyuk complains. “I miss you immensely when you’re gone. Going home alone at the end of the work day is torture .”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“I’m telling the truth!”
Kevin starts to grab for his soda but lets loose a resigned sigh instead when the can slips farther out of his reach as Hyuk wraps an arm around him and pulls Kevin’s back against his chest. Kevin tries not to mind, but he can no longer reach his keyboard and he desperately wants to finish writing this daily report. Although he’s not too sure how necessary writing a report about cleaning up after the bingo tournament should be. What the hell else can he even type up about it? “All of the plastic was successfully packed up for recycling and shipped off to Solid Wastes,” he drones aloud, holding up his hands and mimicking typing.
Hyuk either ignores the point he’s attempting to make or genuinely doesn’t put two and two together. He wraps Kevin up in an even tighter back hug and then spins their chair away from Kevin’s desk altogether.
Fortunately, Kevin doesn’t get the chance to groan in exasperation.
The glass door of the departamento de policia swings open, letting in a rush of unseasonably humid spring air, yes, but also granting entry for their Captain Jaehan and his designated partner Sebin.
Jaehan cuts quite the striking figure in his steel grey uniform and burgundy beret. Kevin briefly wishes that he were a bit taller so that he could fill out his own clothes in such a way.
“How was patrol?” Kevin asks, having to twist around in Hyuk’s lap just to see who he is talking to.
Jaehan looks mentally exhausted. He spends a few seconds unhooking the leash in his hand from Sebin’s harness. “Had to spend twenty minutes explaining to an irate man down at the grocery store that if he wins over a certain amount on a lottery ticket, he has to go an hour out to the headquarters in Puerto Lucie to cash it in.”
Kevin waits patiently for the Captain to continue the story but it’s not until Jaehan takes a seat at his desk and opens up a game of Solitaire on his computer that Kevin realizes he’s finished . Kevin doesn’t even ask ‘That’s it?’ because he knows Jaehan will just siiiigh.
That’s kind of all the action they get in a small town like this. Sadly.
Sebin, for what it’s worth, still seems to have plenty of energy. The tall, fluffy-eared hybrid–a mixed-blood Labrador–circles the small police station, sniffing loudly, tail raised. He rubs against things curiously as if he hasn’t already worked here three years. His uniform is just as crisp as Jaehan’s, though perhaps it’s a bit more smudged and worn out across the knees.
“Did we get any calls?” Jaehan questions. “ Please give me something to do.”
“Mr. Hwang wanted a follow-up on his stolen pickup truck.” Kevin attempts to scoot his chair back over towards his computer but he’s so small on Hyuk’s big lap that his boots do not touch the floor. He gives up. “He wanted to remind us that it’s painted dark green so it may be hard to spot among the fields.”
“Mr. Hwang,” huffs Jaehan, “needs to accept the fact that his pickup truck got towed and he needs to go down to the yard himself to get it back.”
“You know him,” Kevin says, “he won’t accept ‘there’s nothing we can do’ as a response.”
“No wonder his wife can’t get that divorce,” Jaehan comments.
By then, Sebin’s circled the office all the way to where Kevin and Hyuk are sitting.
The two dog hybrids sniff each other in greeting. Or whatever it is hybrids do when they press their faces against each other’s necks and inhale like coke fiends. Kevin feels properly boxed in between their large bodies and shifts uncomfortably on top of Hyuk’s rock-solid thighs. At some point in the exchange, Hyuk stops sniffing Sebin’s neck in favor of sniffing Kevin’s neck and the tickle of his mildly wet, mildly cold nose makes Kevin squirm in the hybrid’s grip.
“Seb, heel,” Jaehan commands from the other side of the room.
Sebin draws back at once and takes his spot on the floor next to Jaehan’s chair.
“Wish Hyuk would listen to me like that,” Kevin muses. He can’t even put his chin up on his hand because his elbow is too far from the corner of the desk!
“Hey, I listen to you,” Hyuk whines at the exact same time Jaehan says, “You spoil him rotten.”
“I don’t spoil him!” Kevin complains.
Jaehan makes a vague hand gesture towards Kevin sprawled across Hyuk’s lap.
Kevin surrenders the point. “Do you have any tips?” He tries and fails to free himself from the cage of Hyuk’s beefy arms.
“A firmer tone?” Jaehan attempts. When Kevin’s helpless expression doesn’t change, he keeps on. “Less rewards and more discipline? Longer hours at the dog run? Ay dios mio, I don’t know what to tell you, Kev.” He takes a hand off of the computer mouse to gently pat the top of Sebin’s sandy blonde hair. The dog hybrid’s ears swivel beneath his handler’s fingers and his eyes drift shut. “He does what I ask and I do what he asks. That’s it.” Then all of Jaehan’s attention goes back to his Solitaire game. It looks like he’s only a few quick moves away from winning although Kevin swore he’d just started.
Kevin tries something different. He tilts his head up towards Hyuk’s face. “Can you roll me back towards the computer? I would like to finish my report.”
“Yes, master.” Hyuk bends his knees and uses the heels of his boots to drag the chair back to the counter. Then Hyuk says, “Do I get a reward?”
“For moving us two meters?”
“Yes.”
But the treats are in the cabinet in the corner and it hasn’t been but an hour since the last time Kevin gave him one. Okay, maybe he does spoil Hyuk rotten.
“Firm tone,” Jaehan reminds him, not taking his eyes off of his Solitaire game.
Kevin firms up his tone. “No reward this time, Hyuk.”
If there’s a way to audibly pout, Hyuk does it.
Kevin puts his hands on the keyboard but promptly forgets what he wanted to type. Something about the recycling? Ah! Now he remembers! He puts his typing mastery to the test and gets an entire paragraph on city-wide plastic recovery efforts into his daily report in less than a minute. Now it looks like he’s done things and thought things today! With everything finally completed, he fires it off to Jaehan for eventual approval.
“Want me to open your soda, master?” Hyuk asks.
“Sure,” Kevin says, distracted. He opens up a new document to fill out another report just to fight off the doldrums.
Hyuk unwraps his arms from around Kevin slowly, as if expecting him to leap up and run, and then pops the tab on Kevin’s soda can, the carbonated drink bubbling and hissing and foaming up.
Sebin tilts his head back to look at Jaehan. “Can I call you master?”
Jaehan scoffs at the very notion . “No.” He skips the victory animation on his screen so he can get to a new game 1.32 seconds faster. Then he glances sideways and sees Kevin staring. “See? A firmer tone.”
But Kevin is 100% positive that all of the tones he uses with Hyuk are firm. “Well, I guess there’s no denying Hyuk’s loyalty.”
“I think you lucked out, honestly,” Jaehan says, mouse clicking rapidly as he speeds through another round. Kevin’s never been good at the game and can’t see how Jaehan does it. “You know the new recruit on night duty? Yechan still won’t listen to him. There’s already plans to split them up even though they’ve only been paired for two weeks.”
“Harsh,” Sebin mumbles. His eyes drift closed again like he’s right on top of dozing off.
“It happens,” concludes Jaehan. “The recruit’s happy about being transferred to Puerto Lucie at least but that leaves Yechan without a handler for the foreseeable future. Can’t be helped, I guess. Though I’ve never heard of partners not getting along at all.”
“Kev and I will never get split up,” Hyuk says confidently. “Only way we can be closer is if I’m inside him.”
Kevin’s so glad he hasn’t taken a sip of his soda yet or else he’d have spit it up across his keyboard!
Hyuk smacks him on the back. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Kevin chokes out. It takes him another five seconds to bring a halt to his coughing fit. Hyuk talking about being inside him while he’s sitting on Hyuk’s lap wasn’t how he expected this conversation on obedience to go.
“Can I call you daddy?” Sebin wonders, his golden-furred tail raps against the floor.
“If I warm up to the idea,” Jaehan says with a straight face.
Sebin smiles like he’s earned himself a treat.
Kevin takes a careful sip of his soda but a burp still surprises him and launches out of his mouth unbidden. He watches the clock in the corner of his computer screen tick one minute closer to the end of his shift. What can he make this report about? Has anyone written a follow-up to the follow-up on Mr. Hwang’s follow-up? Formal correspondence from impound lot requested , he’ll type, impressing everyone. He rears back, forgetting that quickly that he’s on Hyuk’s lap until the back of his head thunks against Hyuk’s broad shoulder.
Pleased by the physical contact, Hyuk pinches Kevin’s neck between his front teeth and the delightful pressure on such sensitive skin makes Kevin let loose a high-pitched, salacious moan before he can stop himself.
“Hey, at least ask if I want to watch first,” Jaehan grunts, already starting another round of Solitaire. He’s on a roll today. It might be why he’s in such a joking mood.
“I would like to watch,” Sebin deadpans.
Kevin chokes out a laugh and gently pushes Hyuk’s face away from his neck and sits up, embarrassed. Breathing heavy. Slightly aroused.
Hyuk doesn’t let him off easy. His hand is hot and heavy on Kevin’s groin and rapidly squeezes his handler’s erection like it’s a squeaky toy.
Another surprised moan leaps out of Kevin’s mouth without his permission. He takes his hands off of Hyuk’s face, reaches down and attempts to curl Hyuk’s fingers off of his dick but that just allows Hyuk to bite his neck again.
Kevin doesn’t have another moan to launch into the air but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel Hyuk’s erection digging into his ass.
He blinks open eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed only to make direct eye contact with Sebin who watches the proceedings stock still, entirely unblinking.
Saints!
“Hyuk, please,” he pleads.
The hybrid’s hand presses across his dick again, insistent. Possessive.
Stern tone. Remember. Stern tone!
“Not now,” he commands.
Obediently, Hyuk unhinges his teeth from Kevin’s neck and pulls his hands away from Kevin’s groin.
Absolutely breathless, borderline trembling, Kevin sits up and attempts to focus on his report but the page remains blank on the computer screen, the cursor blinking irritably at him.
Fuck. Kevin’s certain that he paid careful attention throughout all of his basic law enforcement training and he took meticulous notes during his specialized hybrid training but none of that’s prepared him for a partner that literally won’t let him go .
Jaehan clicks away at his Solitaire game, expertly blazing through the round. Sebin sits on the tile floor at his handler’s feet, perfectly content. Kevin eyes the socially acceptable distance between them with something akin to jealousy.
Then the phone rings. So suddenly that Kevin startles, whole body going tense in Hyuk’s lap.
Jaehan answers the phone with “Departamento de policia. How may we serve?” Which is, like, five times more professional than the ‘Yadda yadda yadda. Hola?’ that he usually gives this small but upstanding community while on the non-emergency line. Then he Yeahs and Uh-huhs his way through the rest of the conversation and even slips in a How’s the familia? before hanging up and giving his Solitaire game his all.
The matters must not be pressing in the slightest if Jaehan’s not even reaching for a stick of gum to preemptively fight off a tension headache so Kevin decides to relieve himself of his own boredom. He stands up. “What’s the call? Hyuk and I will go.”
⊷
Because of Hyuk’s breed, because of Hyuk’s sheer size , civilians usually do not approach him. They give the German Shepherd a wide berth. They do not speak to him directly. Intimidated, the townspeople keep a wary eye on the amount of slack in Hyuk’s leash while doing everything they can to answer Officer Kevin’s questions quickly. If it means putting distance between themselves and the towering dog hybrid, some will even come right out and confess.
This makes Officer Kevin’s job in the K-9 Unit easier. Whether it’s patrolling the streets or tracking down petty thieves or rifling through a park in search of lost items (he’s just a rookie, after all), it all falls into place much faster when everyone he approaches is afraid to lie to him.
Kevin forgets that he’s only been out of the academy for two or three months. Even someone as small as him looks ferocious and seasoned when handling a German Shepherd that’s a solid head taller than him and probably his weight and a half in sheer muscle mass.
Which is exactly why Officer Kevin is pleasantly surprised when the man seated across from the two of them ignores him in favor of speaking to the hybrid.
“Do you get paid well working in the force?”
Hyuk nods. “Health insurance. State employee discount. Plenty of exercise. It’s fun.”
“If you ever want to try something that requires a bit more… creative flair, I’ve always got spots open,” the man states. He introduced himself as Hangyeom when the two officers had first arrived. Then he’d sat them down at a table up on the mezzanine level and made them wait over twenty minutes just so he could brew a pot of coffee. Hangyeom’s painfully handsome with a head of dyed pink hair pulled back into a ponytail. He’s got a square face and a pair of razor-sharp eyes that makes Kevin feel like he’s absolutely transparent. Hangyeom adds, “We’ll teach you how to dance and how to please and you’ll fit right in.”
Hyuk’s dog ears perk up on top of his head. The chocolate-brown of their fur matches his freshly-groomed hair. “Oh, I don’t think I’d be very popular in a place like this.”
That makes Hangyeom chuckle. “Cariño, people would saw off their own hands for the chance to sample a hybrid. More importantly, they’ll pay double the pesos.”
The prospect makes Hyuk’s eyes go big and round and, in all honesty, Kevin gets a bit jealous because he usually only sees that expression on Hyuk’s face when it’s aimed at him .
Hangyeom takes a sip of coffee from his mug before he continues. “We’ll have customers from all over coming here just to have you.”
“Really?” Hyuk questions, nodding like he’s genuinely considering the offer.
“I mean, look at you.” Hangyeom looks him up and down, hunger in his expression. “You’re a marvel. You’d be my biggest star in no time. Just don’t tell Frit I said that.”
Suddenly shy, Hyuk raises a hand to his reddening cheek.
Kevin finds his voice. “I don’t think this conversation topic is appropriate.”
“And why not?” Hangyeom questions, barely turning his head to look at him. “Do you want him all to yourself, pretty boy?” And he doesn’t even give the question time to sit in the air before he tacks on an additional inquiry. “Does his tail ever get in the way when you eat his ass?”
But since Kevin is still five seconds behind in the conversation, trying to process the previous question, he says “No” before he truly understands the implications. And by the time that he does , his scandalized expression goes entirely unseen as Hangyeom turns his attention back to the hybrid.
“How is the coffee?” the pink-haired man asks. “Not too bitter?”
“It’s perfect,” Hyuk answers, lifting the mug to his mouth to take a sip. Then he licks his lips to savor the taste. “Rich and earthy.”
“The benefits of a slow roast,” Hangyeom says. He gestures to the small ceramic pots at the center of the table. “Cream? Sugar?”
“I like it raw,” Hyuk answers.
Hangyeom pauses briefly. His eyes flit over to Officer Kevin for some odd reason. Then he looks at the hybrid again, smiling. He says, “What an interesting way to phrase that.”
Hyuk must hear the way Kevin chokes on air because his head pivots towards his handler, big brown-furred dog ears perking up. “It’s the only way to enjoy it.”
“I am positive he is speaking about coffee,” Kevin says quickly.
And that makes Hangyeom raise an eyebrow. “Was there anything else he could be talking about, I wonder?”
Kevin leans towards Hyuk and hisses, “Just say you like your coffee black like a sane person.”
Perhaps he doesn’t enunciate properly because instead of acting scolded, Hyuk grins wide at him and thumps his tail happily against the bench seat as if Kevin’s just promised him a reward.
“I’ll take sugar, please,” Kevin says in a mad attempt to change the subject.
“You haven’t even tasted it yet,” Hangyeom chastises with a grin, but he’s already setting down his mug, grabbing a small pair of tongs off of the exquisitely detailed tray and opening one of the ceramic pots. “How many cubes?”
“Two,” Kevin says.
The rookie officer watches in rapt fascination as Hangyeom lifts and drops two cubes of sugar into Kevin’s coffee. His nails are artfully painted and bedazzled with small gems. His fingers are circled by heavy-looking gold rings. The man is a work of art from head to toe.
“The job offer extends to you too, pretty boy,” Hangyeom says, almost like an aside. “You’re cute and young-looking and small-framed. That’s a niche I don’t exactly have filled yet.”
“I don’t think I’m confident enough,” Kevin exhales, hoping to get things back on track.
“Hmmm? You’ll chase down criminals but you’re afraid to do a little dancing?”
“Kevin is very brave,” Hyuk defends him. And although they’ve been sitting beside each other this whole time, Kevin is almost startled by Hyuk’s proximity, by the closeness of his body and the volume of his voice. Hyuk drops a hand onto Kevin’s thigh and adds, “I’d follow him anywhere. I’d do everything he asks.”
Of course, Hangyeom’s eyes zero in on the physical contact and an idea sparks in his head. “You two can always do a duo show, if you’re that wary of being separated.”
Hyuk’s tail thumps wildly against the seat again, hard enough and fast enough for Kevin to feel it vibrate through his body like a second heartbeat. The hybrid says, “I’d love that!”
Kevin leans forward and stirs his coffee with his spoon, watching the dark color swirl in the room’s dim, reddish-purple lighting. He raises the mug to his lips, but he’s never been a fan of hot beverages and finds the anticipation of super-hot liquid on his tongue more perilous than the actual act of drinking, so he only ends up pressing the rim of the mug to his bottom lip. He says, “But we aren’t here to perform. We have a case to deal with.” He lowers the mug away from his mouth. “ Your case, I might add.”
Hangyeom almost laughs, as if he’s genuinely forgotten that the police were at his place of business for a reason . “I do apologize,” he states. “I just saw an opportunity to increase profits.”
Hyuk’s hand is still on his thigh, Kevin realizes, but shifting about just prompts the hybrid to lay his hand even higher up Kevin’s leg, nearly making him squeak.
“I haven’t had a duo show with two men in a while. Perhaps over a year,” Hangyeom keeps going. “You two would fill every seat we’ve got in the house. I’d take my cut, of course, but you’ll still go home with more than what the state pays, I assure you.”
At first, Kevin assumed the man was just humoring them, making idle chit-chat, but… is he genuinely asking them to get up on stage?
“Just don’t fuck on stage,” Hangyeom says flatly. “Save that for private shows.”
Hyuk seems excited about such a prospect. “I’ll do anything Kev tells me to.” And then he turns to look at the side of Kevin’s head as if expecting him to answer right then and there.
“I’ll think about it,” Kevin says dismissively. Noncommittally.
Now that there’s a lull in the conversation, Officer Kevin mentally goes through the basics on the man seated across from him: He’s the witness who called in a missing persons report. Hangyeom. Owner of The Cherry Stem's Knot, which is an eclectic mix between “dinner theater” and a pasteleria. If the Moulin Rouge sold cake by the slice. The dancers and singers who perform here are lovingly referred to as desserts, to keep with the theme. Although, if anyone directly asks, the private rooms in the back are just where one would go to… get the whipped cream. Nothing less. Nothing more.
The place definitely exists in a nebulous gray area, as far as the police go, but Kevin’s not here to shut the place down. He’s here to help Hangyeom find one of his employees. But the man seems surprisingly calm to be short of staff. He’s also, apparently, allergic to clothing because his shirt is so sheer and his tiger-print pants are so skin-tight that Kevin honestly feels like he can picture what the man looks like entirely naked. Muscles hard and sun-tanned. Arms sculpted. The gold jewelry adorning his throat and wrists only adds to the eroticism, oddly. And it all ratchets up to an eleven as warm light and flickering shadows dance across Hangyeom’s lithe form as the candle at the center of the table burns brightly.
Kevin kind of wants to touch Hangyeom. Just to feel the heat of such gorgeous skin against his palm. He wonders if he could afford even that much.
The thought makes Kevin’s cheeks flush and his hands shake and he must sit his mug on the small, circular table between them or risk sloshing piping hot coffee across his fingers.
Hyuk turns towards him, scrunching up his nose at the sudden spike in Kevin’s scent.
“Now, officer,” Hangyeom drawls, “if we can get back to the matter at hand…” He says this as if he hasn’t spent the past ten minutes trying to get the two of them up on his stage.
“Yes, let’s,” Kevin breathes out, but he’s only half attentive, focused on trying to determine if that dark shape he sees through Hangyeom’s shirt is his nipple or a trick of the room’s seductive glow.
Hangyeom makes a show of crossing his legs at the knee and the sudden movement draws Kevin’s eyes down his torso and towards his groin. “Officer,” Hangyeom practically purrs. “I usually try not to rely on el policia but, like I told Jaehan on the phone, Donut is special to everyone here at The Cherry and we want her back home with us.”
“Right. Of course,” Kevin exhales. He has to blink rapidly to bring his vision back into focus. As if Hangyeom’s handsomeness is legitimately robbing him of his sight.
Hyuk rumbles low in his throat, not quite a growl, and sits his nearly-empty mug of coffee back down on the table. He twists on the squeaky vinyl bench seat, swings a leg over Kevin’s waist and deposits all of his weight onto Kevin’s lap.
Kevin startles. Hyuk is heavy . And large enough that it feels like he’s twice Kevin’s size. Kevin panics, completely unsure of where he should put his hands! He probably shouldn’t wrap them around Hyuk’s skinny waist. He definitely shouldn’t rest them on Hyuk’s thick thighs. And he most certainly shouldn’t reach around back and settle his hands on Hyuk’s taut ass!
“That’s right, master,” Hyuk says in a low, dark, damp voice. “Only get horny when you look at me .”
Kevin looks up and up Hyuk’s long torso and nearly goes dizzy staring into the hybrid’s seductive face. He stutters out, “W-w-what are you doing? Sit.”
“I am sitting,” Hyuk states. He shifts his hips in Kevin’s lap just enough , as if to inform Kevin that, yes, he does indeed feel Kevin’s hard dick beneath his thigh.
Kevin’s head swims a little. His shock is doing battle with his arousal and now shame is sneaking in for a backstab.
“If you two are down for some dress-up,” Hangyeom interrupts, “my regulars would go wild for a little collar and leash action.”
Right. Yes. Kevin does possess that bit of authority here. His fingers instinctively tighten on the leash in his left hand and, tugged forward by the movement, Hyuk leans down so that their faces are much closer. Which, you know, is the opposite effect Kevin intended. He steels his nerves so his voice won’t tremble when he tells Hyuk, “You’re being disobedient.”
Hyuk’s eyes don’t leave Kevin’s. With obvious envy dripping off of his words, he says, “ I’m your partner. Not Hangyeom.”
“Well, yes,” Kevin begins, shaky. “You have been assigned to me.”
“You’re the only one who can touch me,” says Hyuk, putting a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. His thumb traces up the column of Kevin’s neck.
“Why… Yes. That is standard protocol. I am your designated handler, after all. And it’s–”
Hyuk’s tail starts wagging, striking Kevin’s leg like a whip. “You can only fuck me . No one else.”
Kevin jolts. But he doesn’t get anywhere pinned beneath Hyuk’s weight. “Okay, that is not what they should be teaching you at the academy.”
“It’s something I learned on my own,” Hyuk pants. His canine teeth dig into his plump bottom lip. “Want me to leave you breathless, master?”
“Bravo,” Hangyeom calls out. “Que bien!” He even sets down his mug to properly applaud. “You’re naturals! Spectacular, sizzling sexual chemistry. I’ll ask Jehyun to block out your stage directions. The audience will die for a bit of banter during the show. Can either of you sing?”
A nervous, squawking laugh jumps out of Kevin’s throat. “We aren’t here to perform.” He twists to peer around Hyuk’s solid torso to glare at the man. “We’re here to investigate.”
Hangyeom slides off of the bench seat, stands and stretches his arms above his head. He puts an unnecessary arch in his back as he does so and definitely lets out an unnecessary groan. Every movement is purposeful and extravagant, like a peacock strutting about, tail spread, in hopes of attracting attention.
Hyuk puts a hand on Kevin’s chin and makes his handler look up at him again. This time, he does growl when he says, “Eyes on me.”
Kevin caves. Hypnotized by the look on Hyuk’s face, he almost whimpers as Hyuk presses closer, keeping their mouths only a breath apart. Their body heat mingles. Kevin relaxes beneath Hyuk’s weight. Almost of their own accord, his hands settle on Hyuk’s hips and the hybrid looks relieved at the contact.
“You get so red in the face when you’re riled up.” Then, with liquid ease, despite his towering height, Hyuk slides off of Kevin’s lap, scoots back to his side of the bench seat, and then goes back to sipping on his steaming coffee as if he hasn’t left Kevin’s head spinning, his body aching, his heart confused.
Hangyeom says, “It’s around the time my desserts start showing up for work. If you’d like to question them, now would be the time. You know, before things get too busy tonight. It’s the weekend, after all.”
Officer Kevin tries to ignore how much he wants to tell this man that he knows how to do his job. “We’ll talk to them and try to pick up Donut’s trail.” He reaches for his mug of coffee but knocks it over before he can even lift it. Before he can even taste it.
Hangyeom’s in good spirits, however. He laughs high and loud before singing out, “I’ll fetch more napkins!”
⊷
The first thing Kevin does when they’re left alone is radio Hwichan in for backup after Jaehan promptly refuses to leave his desk.
Kevin’s still a rookie, after all, and a missing person feels like he’s punching far above his weight class, so taking a few minutes to call in a superior officer just feels like the natural course of action.
Hwichan swears he has no free time, though, and sounds confused as to why his presence is required anywhere but the evidence room but when Kevin specifies that he’s at The Cherry, Hwichan suddenly has all of the time in the world and promises to be at the club in less than half an hour.
The second thing Kevin does is let out an emasculated eep when he turns around and nearly walks straight into the beefy chest of a shirtless Hyuk.
“What are you doing?” Kevin tries to look away but his brain betrays him and keeps his eyes trained on the dark beads of Hyuk’s brown nipples, on the solid stack of his abs, on the swirling ink of his chest tattoo.
“Getting into character,” Hyuk says with a tilt of his head, as if it should be obvious. “We’re undercover. We’re dancers.”
They aren’t undercover. They aren’t dancers. “You don’t need to be naked,” Kevin critiques.
“I’m not naked,” Hyuk complains with his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “I have on what you gave me.” And then he runs a finger along the cloth harness strapped across his sculpted abdomen.
Although it is true that Kevin gave him the harness when they were first assigned as partners last Diciembre, there shouldn’t have been much significance behind the action. All of the hybrids in the K-9 unit wear one. So… Yes. It’s part of Hyuk’s uniform, technically–a safety measure to keep tugs on his leash from choking him–but the majority of it is usually hidden beneath his uniform. However, seeing it here, in an entirely different context, the dark material standing out in stark contrast against Hyuk’s bare skin, makes Kevin’s brain short out. He can’t help but run his eyes over the crisscrossing line work of the harness. K-9 UNIT is stitched into the material at regular intervals in dark gray thread. Totally benign. On the other hand, HANDLER: KEVIN is stitched onto the strap at the base of Hyuk’s throat in bright yellow, just below where the leash attaches.
In all honesty, Kevin’s not even sure he’s seen that before and his dick responds to the sight of it before any other part of his body can.
It should be completely normal, he chides himself, to see his name in such a place, but there’s a wild, barely tamed ownership to the whole thing when Hyuk is already getting sweaty in the theater’s humid air.
“I wanted to change my pants,” Hyuk says just shy of a whisper, “but Hangyeom’s never worked with hybrids before so he’s got nothing for my tail.”
Kevin’s brain finishes rebooting and connects back to his nervous system. “Sit,” he commands.
Obediently, Hyuk drops to his knees, eyes trained on Kevin expectantly, ears twitching to catch the next order.
Of course, Kevin’s brain threatens to shut off all over again, overloaded. Seconds too late, he decides that he probably shouldn’t have made the topless hybrid kneel right in front of him . Not if he’s gonna look up at Kevin like that. Wag his tail like that. Loll his tongue out like that.
It’s not like they’ve never done this before, it’s not like they’ve never been in a similar position–they’ve gone through hours and hours of training together, after all–but everything takes on brand new meaning beneath The Cherry’s sweet, violet lights. Everything feels taboo with the scent of leather and oil and perfume and musk and liquor in the air. Everything feels dangerous now that Kevin’s realized that Hyuk is hot .
Dammit. They are coworkers. Partners! He can’t start thinking like this now! This is all Hangyeom’s fault. Kevin starts to turn away but Hyuk’s hands reach out, fast as striking snakes, and grip Kevin’s hips to stop him from leaving.
“Are you mad at me?” Hyuk wonders, flattening his ears to the top of his head.
“No,” Kevin says quickly. Too quickly. A half-truth.
Hyuk pulls him close, props his chin on Kevin’s body and looks up at him with sad, puppy dog eyes. The look is made twice as effective because he’s pressing his cheek into the bulge of Kevin’s growing erection. Whoops. How did that get there?
“Are you upset that I made a decision on my own?” Hyuk’s bottom lip trembles. “I can put my shirt back on. I’ll run everything by you first.”
Kevin flattens his mouth into a firm line. He tries to use the ‘stern tone’ Jaehan got on him about. “Hyuk, it’s fine. You don’t have to grovel. Why… Why would you think I’m mad at you?” He’s not sure what comes over him, but he reaches out a hand, brushes it over Hyuk’s cheekbone. His pointer finger slides just shy of the little beauty mark beneath Hyuk’s right eye. Realizing what he’s done, he draws his hand back but then watches, with a weird pinching around his heart, as Hyuk attempts to chase after the heat of his hand.
“I just don’t want you to be disappointed in me,” Hyuk whimpers.
But Kevin can’t listen to him speak. Literally. He can’t hear anything over the low buzz of Hyuk’s voice against his crotch. “Stand,” Kevin tells him.
Hyuk swiftly obeys.
That fast, Kevin forgets their height difference. With Hyuk’s brown nipples suddenly at eye level, Kevin startles, steps backward, loses his balance. He doesn’t realize he’s falling until he’s already hit the floor, flat on his ass.
Hyuk, in a second-too-late attempt to catch him, follows him down to the floor but merely winds up piled on top of Kevin, flattening him to the hardwood. Chest to chest. Stomach to stomach. Knees on either side of Kevin’s thighs.
“Fuck me,” Kevin hisses through clenched teeth.
What he doesn’t expect is for Hyuk to immediately start swiveling his hips, roughly grinding his crotch down against Kevin’s waist. The friction between them burns like fire to kerosene. Hyuk is already hard, he realizes with a choked-off gasp, and the hybrid works double-time to roll their bodies against each other. It feels good. Of course it does. There’s just enough pressure to make Kevin tilt his head back and let out a weak gasp. But they are also laying in the middle of the floor in a public space! Hyuk’s weight on top of him is intense and Kevin is left breathless both by his hard landing and by Hyuk’s desperation, his eager panting, the coil and flex of his tanned muscles as they work to crush Kevin into the floor.
It takes a few seconds for Kevin to realize what’s happening. To understand why it’s happening. “I was cussing,” he breathes out. “Not ordering.”
Hyuk’s hips still but the rest of him stays in motion. Flicking ears, wagging tail, heaving chest. He licks his lips and sniffs the air, waiting and waiting and waiting for Kevin to tell him to continue. His eyes never leave his handler, but as the seconds tick by, the emotion in them pivots from joyous and eager to confused and uncertain and then, unfortunately, to worried and anxious. His whole face falls when he asks again, “Are you mad at me?”
“No, Hyuk,” Kevin says, but at least he’s far more honest about it this time. He sits up slowly, putting a hand on Hyuk’s hot, sweaty chest to make the hybrid sit up as well. “I think we’re still getting used to working together.” That’s right , he thinks. Make this an issue of professionalism .
“But I’m used to you. Are you not used to me?” Hyuk ponders. His ears droop and his tail sags heavily across Kevin’s leg. “Do you not want me? Because I want you.” There’s no way Kevin can miss when Hyuk places a hand over the bulge in his uniform pants.
Kevin gulps. “Really. This can’t be what they teach you at the academy.”
“I’m supposed to follow your orders,” Hyuk states.
That’s… true, but Kevin still thinks there’s a disconnect. A grave misinterpretation of expectations. But how exactly do you say ‘we’re not supposed to fuck each other’ but, like, make it sound formal and professional?
Kevin figures out a way: “Let’s get back to the investigation.”
⊷
Coco, short for Coconut Pie, is the first of the girls to show up for that night’s shift.
The two officers try to flag her down in the bar area of the theater, before she gets too far into a neon-colored drink, but she downs it like it’s water and invites them down one dimly-lit hall after another before pushing open a door with a glittery gold star with her name on it painted over the wood.
The room is small, though. Made even smaller by the sheer number of clothing racks and plastic cabinets crammed full of makeup she’s got lined up inside.
She takes a seat on the recliner stuffed into the corner of the room, leaving Kevin to seat himself on the stool in front of the vanity mirror framed by lightbulbs.
“I’ve been Hangyeom’s headliner for ages now,” she says instead of answering Kevin’s question about Donut. “Everybody’s coocoo for Coco.” She laughs at her own joke. “Hangyeom… He treats me well. Doesn’t skimp on my pay. I like him better than the old bitch who was in charge before.” Her hair is long and silky and pitch-black and pin straight. She sports a floppy hat and sunglasses like she’s just stepped off of the beach. She certainly smells like salt air and suntan lotion, although Kevin is quite sure that Puerto Lucie’s over an hour away. “His stage name used to be Cherry C., believe it or not. Short for Cordial.”
“Hangyeom used to dance?” Hyuk asks. He’s still shirtless. Still in nothing but his clinging pants and harness. He leaves Kevin’s side, tugs and tugs against the leash until Kevin lets it go. Hyuk circles the dressing room, running his hands over clothing and feather boas and props like it all belongs to him. “How come he doesn’t anymore?”
“Have you seen him?” Coco pulls the lever and sits way back in the recliner, propping up her sandaled feet and done-up toes. “We’d all be out of a job if Hangyeom danced again.”
Hyuk turns his head to look at her. “So is the club named after him?”
“I think he named himself after the club,” Coco corrects. “The Cherry’s been here for decades.”
But Kevin’s not here for a history lesson on adult entertainment in this small town. He holds his ink pen poised above his notepad. “What can you tell me about Donut?”
“Donut has been here longer than me,” Coco says. “If you know this place at all then you know Donut.”
Kevin doesn’t know The Cherry. He doesn’t know Donut. “How long has she been gone?”
“I don’t know for sure. Couldn’t have been but a night or so because I know I saw her Thursday.”
“Do you think anyone here would want to harm her?”
“Who? Donut? She’s a cranky bitch but I doubt anyone holds it against her.”
Kevin presses, “Has she pissed anyone off recently? Another dancer? A customer, perhaps? Do you think she’s in some sort of financial trouble?”
At all of the sudden questioning, Coco frowns. “I don’t think it’s like that.”
“Has Hangyeom had difficulty reaching anyone else today? That too can be a clue.”
But Coco’s attention has strayed away from him, Kevin discovers. She’s watching Hyuk on the other side of the room, somewhere past Kevin’s shoulder.
Kevin stops his note scribbling to follow her gaze only to go still when he realizes why she’s openly gawking.
Hyuk must have caught an interesting scent because the hybrid’s down on all fours beside a shoe rack, face towards the floor, sniffing loudly. That means his ass is sticking straight up into the air, making his pants grip hold of the round globes of muscle like a second skin. His tail curls over inquisitively, almost as if directing the eye towards the seam of his pants that runs straight between his cheeks.
Does his tail ever get in the way when you eat his ass?
Kevin hurriedly looks away, choking and sputtering, and tries to regain Coco’s attention. “Does anyone harbor any ill will against Donut? Any long-standing rivalries?”
“Not that I can think of,” Coco says. It takes her several seconds to meet Kevin’s eyes again. And then she makes him wait even longer as she sits and thinks. “Donut’s pretty aloof. Does her own thing without much consequence. Crowd favorites get that sort of sway, you know? The only one here she truly respects is Hangyeom but he can’t always get through to her when she’s in a mood.”
He starts, “Does anyone here have any problems–”
“Look,” Coco snaps, suddenly irritated. “I don’t believe a soul at The Cherry would hurt her. We’re all familia!” She realizes how loud she’s gotten and sighs wearily.
Kevin changes tact. “Do you have any pictures of her? Anything we can use to help find her?”
Coco doesn’t answer right away. She’s still obviously pissed but she eventually recognizes that Kevin is only trying to help. “Hangyeom’s getting stricter about cameras in the theater. Even phones. Especially after a club in Puerto Lucie stole Jehyun’s choreography thanks to a recording. But…” She gestures wildly. “There’s gotta be photos of her on the walls of this place somewhere.”
Her phone rings. She lifts her cell phone and eyes Kevin as if to dare him to stop her from answering.
“Look,” she says over the trill of the ringtone. “I’ve got a show to prep for. If you stick around to watch, you better tip big.” Then she answers the phone with oddly enthusiastic cheer.
“Thanks for your help,” Kevin lies through his teeth, standing up. He puts his notepad back in his breast pocket but he’s unsure he’s gotten anything useful out of the past ten minutes. He almost says Come, Hyuk , but figures he should be a bit less ambiguous after the way their day’s been going. “Vamanos, Hyuk,” he commands instead.
Fortunately, Hyuk gives no complaints when he gets to his feet and obediently follows Kevin out of the door.
⊷
Hwichan’s sitting at the bar when the two of them leave the dark corridor lined with dressing rooms.
“There you are,” he calls out, waving the two officers over. “I’ve been looking all over for you guys!” He doesn’t look like he’s been looking all over for anyone.
Kevin gets Hyuk to sit at an empty table near the center of the theater and then finishes the journey to the bar on his own. When he gets close, Kevin’s jaw drops. He points to the bartop. “You ordered macarons?”
“The Cherry’s desserts are top notch,” Hwichan answers, looking scandalized, as if Kevin should know these things.
“Why didn’t you bring Taedong?” Kevin pesters him.
Such a question makes Hwichan look up at him like Kevin’s grown a second head. He’s got such large, expressive eyes. It’s easy for him to sell his confusion. “Taedong’s off duty today.”
Why didn’t you tell me that before? Kevin wants to scream.
Hwichan hails the bartender and orders a drink that sounds syrupy sweet and full of artificial fruit flavor. When he turns back around on his stool and spots the look on Kevin’s face, he interprets it with practiced ease. “When you asked me to meet you at The Cherry, I assumed it was for… recreation .” He makes a movement with his arm, indicating his hoodie and sweats. “I even took the rest of the evening off and everything thinking I could, you know, get some whipped cream.”
“I told you over the radio that this was part of an investigation,” Kevin says through clenched teeth, remembering that he’s still addressing his senior officer.
“Well, whatever… It’s fine. It’s fine. This is better than administrative duty so I guess I can at least tag along. Though I’m off the clock so any handcuff usage is on you.”
“I thought you would at least bring your partner.”
Hwichan nibbles on a macaron, fingertips already stained with multi-colored crumbs. “What can Taedong do that Hyuk can’t?”
“It’s not really a question of what can and can’t be done. I just… Need a second opinion, I suppose? I’m still new at this and nothing’s making sense right now.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Kev? Don’t get heavy on me now. The food’s too good.”
“I think Hyuk’s obsessed with me.”
Hwichan doesn’t look as surprised by this as Kevin feels like he should be. “Dogs get obsessed. It’s what they do . That’s why they’re so good at this job.”
Kevin peers over his shoulder to make sure that Hyuk hasn’t left the table and done something dangerous like gotten within earshot or something. He leans towards Hwichan’s ear to say. “I think Hyuk’s in the early stages of rut or something. I can’t get him to not think about fucking me.”
He isn’t happy at all when Hwichan throws his head back and laughs at his dilemma. It wouldn’t be so bad, so humiliating, if he didn’t keep going and going , slapping the bartop repeatedly and nearly slipping off his stool.
Kevin sags against the bar, going out of his way to avoid eye contact with everyone who swivels their head in their direction due to the ruckus. He can’t see out of any of the theater’s painted-over windows but it must be dark outside now. They’ve opened the doors to the public and the theater is slowly filling with customers and the stage at the front of the house is now lit by a single, lonely spotlight.
“Have you and Taedong ever fucked?” Kevin asks.
His question catches Hwichan so off-guard that the senior officer’s laughter comes to an abrupt halt. Like someone’s punched ‘pause’ on a sitcom’s laugh track.
The bartender chooses that exact moment to arrive with Hwichan’s pastel-colored drink so the silence between them stretches awkwardly until the bartender wanders away. “Have we ever… Pssh.” Hwichan slides the sugar-rimmed glass across the bar and lifts the drink towards his mouth. He narrows his eyes at Kevin in disbelief and then widens them in shock. “Wait, you’re serious ?”
Kevin frowns. “You thought I wasn’t?”
They hold eye contact for an awkwardly long moment before Hwichan spins away on his stool and gulps down half his drink in what looks like a single swallow. When he spins back around to look at Kevin, his expression is grave. Grim. “Kevin,” he says slowly. “Taedong and I fuck all of the time.”
And he delivers such a revelation so flatly that Kevin almost lets it slip right past him. He grabs hold of it and squawks out, “Que?”
“It’s the only way to get him to focus. Knowing he’ll be rewarded, and all.”
Kevin goes “Que?” again because what ?
At least Hwichan’s no longer laughing in his face. He almost puts a hand on Kevin’s shoulder but then reconsiders his crumb-covered fingers. “Not while on the clock, of course. Except one or two times. Maybe six. Don’t go in the back aisle of the evidence room. I haven’t mopped since the last time.”
Again, they hold eye contact. The awkwardness is electrically-charged between them. Taking up all of the air in the big room. Then Kevin stares blankly into the middle distance. “Jaehan and Sebin too?” But he doesn’t need to wait for confirmation before he mumbles, more to himself, “Sebin wants to call him daddy.”
Hwichan shrugs, like that’s nowhere near the wildest thing he’s ever heard. Then he goes back to devouring his macarons, popping them into his mouth whole. “Hybrids get really attached to pet names,” he says around a mouthful. “It’s gotta be something in their genetic makeup. God. A lot of things that come out of them can be pinned on their genetic makeup.”
“What does Taedong call you?” Kevin has to know.
Even with the theater’s lighting, the blush across Hwichan’s face is obvious. “It’s better for us both if you don’t know.”
⊷
Frit, short for Apple Fritter, seems even less forthcoming with information than Coco.
For a solid minute, he does nothing but ignore the two officers in favor of unlatching a steel box and counting his way through a ludicrously thick stack of money. He aggressively shushes Kevin whenever the officer attempts to speak or any time the radio on his shoulder crackles with voices.
Frit’s a tall, lean man with masculine, sharp features and a head of dyed-red hair. The first thing out of his mouth, after overstuffing his wallet with bills, is “Don’t call me Frit when I’m in my street clothes. My name’s Junghoon.” Then he proceeds to pull a vape pen from the pocket of his distressed denim jacket. He takes a drag off of it and exhales towards the small chandelier on the ceiling.
Kevin says, “Right. Junghoon. Hello. Ummm. Yes. We’re here to ask you questions about Donut.”
Junghoon ignores Kevin in favor of pointing at Hyuk with the tip of his vape pen and bluntly asking, “What are you?”
Instead of taking any offense, Hyuk just answers, “Purebred German Shepherd. I’ve got the certificate to prove it.”
“You’re a little scary-looking but maybe that’s safer around here than being too cutesy like a poodle or something.”
“Hey. Hyuk is cute,” Kevin defends him.
Junghoon’s not convinced. “Maybe in an aww-look-he’s-biting-off-my-fingers kind of way.”
All Hyuk does is smile up at Kevin and state, “You think I’m cute.”
Kevin ignores him in favor of glancing around.
Junghoon’s dressing room is far more spartan than Coco’s. He’s got skincare lined up on the vanity, artistic photographs of himself in various stages of undress pinned to the walls, and a weight set on a rack in the corner. And that’s… pretty much it.
Just when Kevin’s about to launch his barrage of investigative questions, Junghoon speaks up first. “You’re trying to get a duo show here at The Cherry.” He says it flat. A statement of fact. Not a question.
Kevin goes still, pen poised above his notepad.
Hyuk, seated on the floor at Kevin’s feet, drapes an arm and half of his torso across Kevin’s leg. “Cherry thinks we have good chemistry,” he drawls.
At the use of Hangyeom’s old stage name, Junghoon’s expression visibly sours.
Hyuk barrels on. “He likes our dynamic. He likes our banter.”
Kevin wants to deny such chemistry and dynamic and banter allegations but Junghoon won’t give him the chance.
“Hangyeom likes everything he doesn’t already have,” the dancer snaps. “And, right now, he doesn’t have a hybrid.”
“Does he want me that bad?” Hyuk questions.
“Only if you’ve got the moves.”
Hyuk’s tail happily thumps against the tile floor, loud like a drumbeat. Kevin wonders how something like that doesn’t hurt him.
“Let me tell you right now,” Junghoon says, his words morphing into clouds of scented vape smoke in the closed-off room. “Fridays are for Puddin’, Cupcake, Mango, and the twins Choco And Nilla. Saturdays are for me, Coco, Sugar, L. Meringue, and Tiramisu. You’re getting a Thursday at best and even then, you’ll be show openers.”
Kevin doesn’t know why he jots that down in his notes.
Junghoon adds, “Even if your first few shows are a hit, don’t let it go to your head. Your real potential doesn’t shine through until that new car smell wears off.”
“Can you teach us all that you know?” Hyuk’s tail is still thumping against the floor. As if he’s that happy to be talking about performing. “I’m good at listening.”
For the first time since they’ve come into the room, Junghoon looks at them with something a bit less hostile than blazing contempt. He looks like an entirely different man when he’s not scowling. “I suppose I can go over the basics. But I’m talking to Hangyeom first and getting a fatter cut of the tips. I don’t do charity.”
Realizing that this is the nth time today that a conversation has veered wildly off-topic, Kevin says, “Has Donut said or done anything out of character in recent days? We’d like to find her as soon as possible.”
Junghoon carries on like Kevin never spoke, “And you’re going to have to do something beyond just get all strapped up, dog. That’s my shtick.”
Kevin tries again. “If we rule out foul play, she may have just run off somewhere. Is there any one spot she talks about a lot?”
Hyuk responds to Junghoon's accusation. “Our concept is more of a master and pet sort of thing.”
Kevin nearly drops his pen.
“Pssh,” Junghoon waves a dismissive hand. “Let me guess. Big, mean doggie goes wild off his leash?”
Hyuk lowers his gaze to the floor and his tail stops wagging, the words having been taken right out of his mouth.
“Typical,” Junghoon says, exhaling more vape smoke. “All of you dumb dogs think the same. It’s pathetic.” He throws his head back and fakes a moan. “I want to fill you up with all of my pups! Ugh. Come up with something new for once.”
A tense silence floods the room. Beyond the walls, the distant thump of music starts up. Kevin glances down and spots the absolutely devastated look on Hyuk’s face. It succeeds in breaking something deep down in Kevin and makes him stare across the room at the dancer with brand new hostility.
“But I guess weekday shows can be for typical bullshit.” Junghoon scrunches up his face in displeasure, ignorant to the feelings he’s hurting. “That’s how I know you’re not cut out for weekends.”
Frustrated, Kevin snaps shut his notepad but can’t even stand up in a haughty manner with Hyuk still hanging over his leg. Dramatic exit ruined, he helps Hyuk get to his feet. Kevin says, “I think we’ve learned all we can here. Thank you for your time.”
⊷
The Cherry’s hallways are dimly-lit and smoke-filled but there’s still enough light to catch on the glitter and shine of the damask wallpaper. Every now and then, the path is partially blocked by colorful bead curtains, turning the zig-zag halls into a labyrinth of sex toy display cases and faux-fur throw pillows tossed into corners.
Kevin stares at the assortment of framed photos on the wall. Group shots and overexposed candids, artistically blurry mid-performance pics and professional glamour shots. Some of the photos look decades-old, showing glimpses of an entirely different era, but most of the shots are colorful and crisp and brand new, revealing a surprisingly high number of familiar faces that Kevin has seen around town.
There’s even a few shots of Hangyeom, before he dyed his hair, looking decadent as sin in his wet, unbuttoned dress shirts and frilly, knee-high socks and lacy, feminine panties.
Junghoon looks like a whole other man strapped up in leather and gorgeous knots of colorful rope.
The rest of the dancers look equally scrumptious, just like the tasty desserts they’re named after, but it’s impossible for Kevin to tell which of the girls is Donut without more information.
He has to interview more witnesses. There’s a good chance the bartenders know something. They see and hear it all!
One moment, Kevin is trying to remember his way back through the maze-like corridors.
The next moment, Hyuk has quite literally hoisted Kevin off of his feet and bodily pinned him chest-first to the nearest wall.
Such sudden motion and violence doesn’t bring fear to Kevin’s mind, however, just surprise. He turns his face away from the wall and asks in a half-whisper, “What do you want, Hyuk?”
Hyuk growls like a beast against the back of Kevin’s neck but his lips are extra soft and careful when he presses them to Kevin’s skin. His big hands tighten around Kevin’s waist, holding him steady, making him feel so small. So owned .
Hyuk says, “I want to touch you and I want to kiss you and I want to eat you out and I want to fuck you.” He punctuates the last of that sentence with a forward snap of his hips, driving the clothed bulge of his dick into the soft cleft of Kevin’s ass. “I want to do everything to make you forget about fucking anybody else. I’ll do anything. I… I want you to tell me that I’m yours and yours alone because you’re mine and mine alone.” He drives his hips against Kevin’s ass again, digging his fingernails into Kevin’s waist. Rocking against him with enough force to take his boots completely off of the floor. “I want you to say ‘Hyuk, please give me your knot’ so that I can hold you open and fuck my knot inside. So that nothing can pull us apart.” He gives another swivel of his hips, harder, harder , and Kevin moans as he’s flattened against the wall. As the air is pressed out of him. Hyuk continues, losing himself, voice rattling in his chest. “I want to make you feel good so that you’ll tell me that I’m allowed to cum. Then I’ll fill you up with so much of me–” Another hard thrust. “–that I can smell me inside you–” Yet another thrust. Forceful enough to make the photo frames on the wall tremble. “–and then I’ll watch your little belly bloat with all I’ve given you.” One of Hyuk’s hands squeezes between Kevin’s body and the wall to splay flat across his handler’s stomach. He kneads into the soft skin as if trying to feel for something that should be there but isn’t. “That way,” Hyuk grunts, thrusting again, “no one will call me a dumb dog for wanting–for needing –you to carry my pups.” Then he bites down on Kevin’s neck. His whole body shudders and his throat rumbles with a growl from beneath his diaphragm.
It takes a long moment of Hyuk’s sudden stillness behind him for Kevin to realize that Hyuk is cumming. Right then and there.
Kevin feels the rapid throbbing of the hybrid’s balls in the crook of his clothed ass. He feels the dampness of Hyuk’s cum cover the seat of his pants and drench him like he’s drowning. All of that cum feels too-hot and too-sticky, even through his uniform.
Kevin sucks in a series of shallow breaths, overwhelmed by the vivid imagery Hyuk’s words painted in his head but also surprised that Junghoon’s snide comments had upset the hybrid so much. Enough to make him do this .
After what feels like forever, Hyuk pulls away and even though Kevin hadn't gotten fucked, he feels fucked out. Maddeningly empty.
Kevin’s boots hit the floor and, boneless, he wobbles on his feet. Nearly falls. It takes most of what he’s got left in him to prop himself up on the wall. He finds the strength to turn around and he’s amazed by what he sees.
Hyuk’s pupils are blown wide, practically sparkling like private universes under the glow of the theater’s wall sconces. His hair is a stirred-up mess and his cheeks are deep red beneath the freckles. His naked chest is shiny with sweat, his harness sticky with it too, but more impressively are his pants. They are absolutely soaked. A conspicuous stream of dripping, drying cum stains the material all the way past his left knee. Some of it has launched from Hyuk’s dick with enough velocity to drip white and foamy on the outside of his pants.
And Kevin only has to tug on his belt loops a little bit to know that the ass of his pants are just as splattered.
“Ay dios mio,” Hangyeom cries out. Kevin turns just in time to watch the club owner push his way through a curtain of beads. Hangyeom unfolds a paper fan in front of his face but it does little to hide his beaming smile. “You found Donut!”
“Que?” Kevin questions.
Hangyeom stoops to the floor and picks up a spectacularly obese white cat. He stands up, chuckling. “This is how I know taxpayer dollars are well spent. Gracias, gentleman. Oh dear. Looks like I need to get you two some fresh pants. Follow me!”
And already he’s twirling away, fluttering his fan in the air.
“We should follow him,” Kevin says, his own voice sounding like it is coming from someone else.
“What do you want?” Hyuk asks. “I’ve told you my dream. What’s yours?”
Kevin thinks about it, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched and bottom lip bitten.
Then he decides.
⊷
The next time Kevin tells Hyuk to ‘sit,’ it’s so that the hybrid can park his ass on Kevin’s face.
It’s time he finds out for certain if that tail will get in the way.