I’m starting to understand how Jake Gyllenhaal felt in that damn movie because I can’t fucking quit him.
I know I deserve better, but also, I like knowing that he’d fall apart completely without me.
My god, I'm such a glutton for punishment. Or, more specifically, whore for punishment may be more accurate. Because if the perfect dick exists, it definitely belongs to Jeon Wootek.
I mean, holy shit!
I don’t know if it's morally right to lock down something that perfect. But if it is, I’m the man to do it. The sounds he made while trying to hold everything in were proof enough of that. And the way he tried to remain strong, and rigid, and in control, but melted into me every time I touched him.
He wanted me to ruin him.
To guide him—
No. Fuck it. He wanted me to take over. He damn near begged me for it.
There was no possession in the way he held my hair. There was jealousy, that was plain as fucking day, but I could feel in the weight of his forehead as he pressed it against mine that he's desperate to take the mask off, he’s just not sure yet if I’m strong enough to hold him up…
I get out of the van and start walking to his front door.
His house looks like a cute cottage from the outside. Just like the ones in whatever Portland suburb it is where the Simpson’s characters are named after the streets. Niche reference, I know, but it’s the best example I’ve got. There’s a high, A-frame roof on one side, and porch on the other with white eaves.
In the way my brother’s apartment suits him perfectly, this is villain alter ego shit. Like he’s trying to cover up his life of crime. Or maybe it’s more likedressing for the job you want.Except it’s himbuying a house for the life he wants.
My fist doesn't even get a chance to connect with his front door before he opens it.
Standing there in sweats and a ski jacket, he just stares at me; a duffle bag flung over his shoulder that I can tell is half full.
“You gonna step back and let me out?“
I move to the side, and with a smart alec flourish of my arm, I gesture for his highness to exit.
Tek rolls his eyes and I smile to myself.
If he didn't actually want to come he could just tell me to fuck off. It’s only two words. He’s a fully grown man with a business and a mortgage. I would give him his key back if he asked for it.
But he doesn’t.
With an annoyed grumble he locks the front door.
I beat him to the van and slide the side open. The small space between where the mattress ends and the kitchenette starts is already full.
“Only two nights?” he says, but I know he doesn’t actually want an answer.
He tosses the duffle on top of the cooler I bought for the apartment.
“Did you wanna go back in and grab a few more things?”
“Where are we going?”
“I’ll know it when I see it.”
“How delightfully vague.”
I grin at him in the same way I always do.
“What are we doing?”
I reach up to slap my hand on the top of the van directing his attention to my surfboard strapped to the roof racks. “I don’t know what you’ll be doing, but my days are full.”
