Kiss Me Like You’re Not Married.

Tae-hyun's POV

By the time they stepped out of the office, Tae-hyun's heartbeat still hadn't come down.

His legs felt boneless, and his shirt clung to his back with sweat that had nothing to do with the weather. But his face—he kept it composed, the same calm smile he always wore for dinners, PTA meetings, and neighborhood barbecues. He trained it on his wife as they entered the living room again, where she and Joon's wife were laughing over something mundane and sweet.

No one suspected a thing.

Their son was curled up on the rug with Joon's, half-asleep beside a forgotten set of building blocks. The room smelled like vanilla and wine.

"You two took your time," Joon's wife said teasingly, her voice light.

Tae's wife looked up from her glass, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "What did you show him, your Lego collection?"

Tae-hyun chuckled softly, his voice easy. "Something like that."

Joon had already poured himself a glass of red and leaned against the arm of the couch with an ease that made Tae want to slap him.. or kiss him again.

"He was actually showing me some project ideas," Tae added quickly, lowering himself beside his wife. "Really impressive stuff."

That earned him a proud little smile from Joon's wife and a glance from Joon himself. A brief, hot look so quick the women didn't notice, but Tae-hyun felt it. It burned across the room like a match flicked under his ribs.

He forced his legs not to shift.

The women carried the conversation as the wine flowed. They talked about the boys' upcoming recital, the bake sale at school, how someone in the parent group chat was being annoying again.

"I swear, if she asks for gluten-free vegan brownies one more time, I'm going to lose it," Joon's wife sighed.

"Oh god, you saw that too?" Tae's wife said with a laugh. "They're kids, not monks."

Tae-hyun smiled, even laughed where it was appropriate. But every time his eyes strayed, they caught Joon's doing the same. Stolen glances layered with what hadn't fully faded between them. The memory of hands on his skin. Of rough grinding. Of Joon's low growl against his throat.

He had to get out of his head or he was going to lose it.

"I'm gonna grab some water," Tae-hyun murmured, rising smoothly to his feet.

His wife gave a distracted nod, still talking about how impossible it was to find parking at the school after 4 PM.

Tae slipped into the kitchen, cool tile grounding him as he reached for a glass. He filled it slowly, letting the water run longer than necessary just to listen to something that wasn't his thoughts.

But they came anyway.

"You're breathtaking.."

"I'll ruin you."

"Cum on my cock. All over me."

He squeezed the glass a little too hard and blinked fast. The kitchen was dimmer than the living room, and the distance between him and the others made everything feel muted like he'd stepped out of his body. He braced one hand on the counter and stared down at the sink.

His lips still tingled.

His thighs were sore.

He couldn't believe how badly he wanted to go back into that office. To let Joon finish what he started. No rules. No wives. No guilt.

Just them.

A low ache settled deep in his gut, and he swallowed hard.

'Get it together.'

He turned off the tap and took a slow sip, trying not to imagine the weight of Joon's body over his again, or the breathless way he'd said..

"Tae-hyun?"

He turned slightly, the sound of his name grounding him.

His wife peeked in from the hallway. "Everything okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Just needed a breather."

She smiled. "We're finishing the wine without you."

"I'll be right in," he promised.

She left, and he stood there another five seconds, collecting himself, then headed back into the living room.

Joon was already looking at him when he walked in.

It wasn't the same look from earlier, this one was laced with something heavier. Something like restraint. Like want pressed tightly beneath the surface.

Tae-hyun sat back down beside his wife and reached for his own glass this time.

"So," Joon said lightly, looking between them all, "what's everyone's plans for summer break?"

The question launched another wave of conversation talk about vacations, work schedules, possible camps for the boys. Tae-hyun added his input in all the right places. Laughed. Agreed. But he could feel Joon watching him.

Not always directly.

But often enough.

A glance while sipping his wine. A brush of fingers when they passed the bottle. A split-second smile when their wives weren't looking.

And Tae-hyun couldn't stop imagining it.

The way Joon had looked standing over him, breathless and dominant, like he owned him.

Tae took another long sip of wine and tried not to bite his lip.

He failed.

⸻

The evening wound down slowly, like candle wax melting to the base. The kids had fallen asleep beside each other on the rug, and the wine bottle stood empty between the four glasses. Soft jazz hummed through the speakers now, a background noise none of them really heard.

"Looks like the boys are officially done for the night," Joon's wife said, standing up with a stretch.

"They played hard," Tae-hyun's wife added, brushing her hand through her son's hair affectionately. "We should head out before he starts snoring."

They all laughed gently. Tae-hyun rose to help, carrying his son in his arms. He didn't miss the way Joon followed him with his eyes as they made their way to the door.

Shoes were put on.

Jackets gathered.

And still—there was that pull. That magnetic silence underneath the soft spoken goodbyes.

Tae's wife hugged Joon's with a warm promise of another dinner sometime soon. "I'll text you about that art class next week."

"Please do," she replied. "It was so nice having you here again."

Tae-hyun turned then—his gaze meeting Joon's as he stood beside the door, hands in his pockets. That usual smooth, polished expression was back. The good husband. The charming host.

But his eyes said something else.

They said: Don't forget what happened upstairs.

Joon stepped forward at the last second, reaching out to straighten Tae's collar with a quiet, careful hand. "Your shirt's crooked," he said, low, like it meant something else entirely.

Tae's breath caught. He couldn't say anything—only looked back at him, his heart stumbling once more in his chest.

"I'll see you soon," Joon added, and it was so simple, so casual, no one could have questioned it.

But Tae heard the emphasis. The promise behind it.

His wife called for him softly, nudging their son gently toward the car, and Tae-hyun gave one last nod—just enough to hold Joon's gaze without fully giving himself away.

Then he turned.

And left with everything inside him burning again

.....

The week after the dinner was nothing like before.

They didn't talk about what happened in the office.

Not directly.

Not in words.

But it lingered, just like the scent Joon-won left behind on Tae-hyun's skin, or the soreness in his thighs that wouldn't quite go away.

It started the morning after. A message.

Joon-won:

"You looked so fucking good last night."

Tae-hyun:

"You didn't."

Then, a minute later:

Tae-hyun:

"You looked… dangerous."

And that was all it took. They spiraled.

.

.

Their texts grew bolder with each passing day. At first, it was teasing. Dry, clever little jabs laced with memory.

Joon-won:

"Think you'll ever wear that green shirt again?"

Tae-hyun:

"If you promise to fix my collar again… with your mouth this time."

Then it got darker.

Tae-hyun:

"I dreamed about you last night."

Joon-won:

"Tell me."

Tae-hyun:

"You were on your knees."

Joon-won:

"Wrong. You were."

They stopped holding back.

By Wednesday, they were calling each other at night, alone, always under the guise of "can't sleep" or "just wanted to hear your voice." But they both knew what they were doing.

It always started quiet.

"How was work?"

"Long."

"Still wearing your ring everyday?"

Tae-hyun would twist it slowly around his finger. "Are you?"

"Yes," Joon would murmur. "But I don't feel married when I talk to you."

And neither did Tae-hyun. Not anymore.

⸻

Thursday night, it got messy.

They were on the phone again—breathless laughter between them after a long teasing story Joon told, something harmless, something about a terrible pitch meeting.

Then Joon went quiet. The silence stretched. And Tae heard it.

Breathing.

Slow. Off.

"Are you…?" Tae-hyun whispered.

Joon's voice came low, shameless: "your voice does something to me."

The phone went quiet again, save for the soft rustle of movement. A sharp inhale.

Tae-hyun didn't hang up.

He didn't even speak.

He listened.

And before he could stop himself, he reached down too. Just once. Just to feel what Joon's breathing did to him.

That night ended with both of them panting, whispering each other's names, followed by a long, guilty silence. But neither one apologized.

⸻

Friday afternoon, it escalated further.

It all started with a message Joon-won had send that asked. "Have you ever fingered yiurslg before?"

Tae had stared at that one too long.

And he hadn't answered. Not that night.

But the next day, the question echoed louder than ever in his mind. Especially when he found himself alone in the office bathroom, leaning back against the stall door, one hand gripping the phone and the other trembling with guilt and heat.

He had his chest pressed against the bathroom door, back arched and a finger teasing his hole. He was just getting started when Joon had called at the wrong time.

Or the right one.

And he answered in the middle of it, he didn't stop as Joon-won voice spoke to him, asking about work while he was panting softly into the mic, quiet, not responding.

"You're so quiet," Joon said, voice laced with suspicion. "Where are you?"

"…work," Tae whispered, barely above a breath, he pushed himself off of the door and got out of his pants, sliding down the wall in the stall and opening his legs wide, his cock was rock hard and his finger was still shakily teasing his hole with slow rubs.

He then held the phone with his shoulder to his ear to stroke himself with a quiet whimper. He was dripping wet.

"You okay?"

There was a beat.

And Joon heard it. The subtle shift in breathing. The wet sound.

"..Are you—"

"Tae-hyun."

His voice dropped. Dark. Rough. Hungry.

"What are you doing?"

Tae bit his lip, gasping softly when he heard the hunger behind Joon-won words and his hands stopped and he breathed shakily into the mic.

"I want to stretch myself out for you." 

"Say that again." Joon's voice crackled through the line almost immediately. As if he wanted to make sure what he heard was right.

"I keep thinking about.. that night," Tae murmured, sitting on the closed toilet lid, one hand between his legs. "The desk. Your cock.. I want it again."

"You're thinking about me fucking you right now?"

Tae-hyun hesitated.

Then he said it. Simple and direct.

"Yes.. I want you."

Joon's voice shifted instantly. A switch flipped. "Spit on your fingers. Make them wet for me." He demanded.

A pause.

Then: "put your phone on speaker."

Tae did immediately, and spat on his fingers. Coating them nicely.

"Now slowly, push your finger inside of you."

Tae-hyun obeyed, heart hammering in his chest, biting his lip as he slowly slides his finger inside of himself. He gasped when it fully went in.

"I-It's in.."

"Curl it and thrust it, I don't want you to go slow.. go fast. Rough." Joon-won breathed out huskily. Ordering him knowing he'll obey.

And Tae-hyun did exactly that. Thrusting his finger fast and rough with his lips parted, it felt weird at first but then it felt good. He whimpered and moaned softly at the feeling. He couldn't believe he was doing this in the bathroom of his company's office, hand slipping between his legs, eyes fluttering shut.

"I can't believe you're making me do this," he whispered with a low moan.

"You started it," Joon growled. "You told me you wanted it. Now take it. I want to hear you open up for me."

Tae-hyun moaned softly, breath shaking. "Fuck. Joon—"

"Add another one," he commanded, voice lower now. "Show me how much you want me."

Tae-hyun whimpered but obeyed. He slid another finger inside and this time he could feel the stretch, he arched his back and before Joon could even tell him to move he started thrusting right away, chasing the feeling and pressing his ass down onto his fingers to go deeper. The stretch made his thighs tremble.

 "Tell me how it feels." Joon said, quieter now. A command, not a suggestion.

He didn't say no.

Didn't hang up.

Didn't even try.

Tae-hyun let the sound of Joon's voice guide him through it, through the shame, through the ache, through the fact that he was breaking everything he swore he'd protect. And he loved it. Hated how much he loved it.

And Joon?

He was a wreck on the other end of the line. Breathing heavy. Groaning softly when Tae whimpered. The moment Tae gasped his name, Joon lost it too, whispering things he couldn't take back even if he wanted to.

"I want to taste you so bad," he said.

"I want you under me again but this time while I'm deep inside of you.. fucking you until you scream out my name."

"I want to fuck you and watch your ring stay on the whole time."

He didn't last long at all with all that talk. He couldn't. The pleasure spiraled fast, shame mixing with heat, with power, with submission. He came undone to the sound of Joon's voice telling him he was so good for him, that he'd fuck him just like that, deeper, rougher, slower.

Afterward, neither spoke for a full minute.

Then Joon whispered through the phone with a groan, "I want you to do that again. But while I'm there."

Tae-hyun didn't say no.

⸻

By the end of the week, they were barely holding it together.

During the day, they kept up appearances. Smiled beside their wives. Walked their sons to school. Signed permission slips and answered polite emails.

But every glance at their phone was laced with lust.

Every ring on their finger felt like a warning. And every call ended later and filthier than the one 

before. 

They'd already crossed the line.

Now they were running through the fire.

.

.

.

The next day passed like static.

Work. Parenting. Routine.

But the second night fell, his phone lit up.

Joon-won:

'I need to see you again.'

Tae-hyun stared at it, thumb hovering, heart climbing up into his throat. He typed and erased about five different replies. Then finally:

Tae-hyun:

'That's dangerous..'

Joon-won:

'I don't care.'

 Tae-hyun:

'Me neither.'

A pause. And then—

Joon-won:

'Come by the office. I'll send you the location. I'll tell them I have a late meeting. Nobody will know.'

Tae's stomach flipped.

It was so calculated. So effortless.

Like Joon had done it before.

Like this wasn't his first time thinking of ways to keep secrets from the world. From his wife. From himself.

Tae-hyun:

'What's the reason if anyone asks?'

 Joon-won:

'You're asking me for help to review a project for your company. Nothing more than professional curiosity.'

Tae laughed under his breath softly.

He could practically hear Joon-won's smug voice say it.

Nothing more.

Even though everything about this screamed more.

Tae-hyun:

'When?'

 Joon-won:

'Tomorrow night. 7:30 p.m. wear something that pisses me off.'

Tae-hyun's face flushed hot.

He bit his lip, grinning to himself as he leaned back on the couch, phone clenched in one hand, already picturing it.

The hallway outside Joon's office.

That door closing again.

That heat.

That need.

And what Joon might finally do to him if no one interrupted this time.

He replied without hesitation.

Tae-hyun:

'I'll be there..'