Kiss Me Like You’re Not Married.

It had been three days since the bar.

Three days since Joon-Won felt Tae-hyun's breath ghost against his ear, his hand lingering on his thigh just a second too long, the laugh that seemed innocent until it wasn't. Since then, life resumed in the usual way. Meetings. Emails. The sound of his son's small footsteps echoing down the hallway. His wife humming while drying her hair at night. Everything stayed the same.

Except him.

The memory of that night slipped through the cracks of his routine like smoke. Hard to catch, impossible to ignore. His phone, now with Tae-hyun's name saved simply as "T." had become a secret he checked like a reflex.

And Tae-hyun didn't make it easy to forget.

It started with a single message two mornings after the bar.

T.:

'So.. how's the arm I tapped so hard you had nearly spilled your drink?'

Joon-Won didn't answer right away. He was in the middle of reviewing a proposal, but the corner of his lip curved the second he read it. Eventually, he typed:

Joon-Won:

'Recovering. Though the drink didn't survive. Should I inovice you?'

The conversation stayed light. Teasing. Dipped in sarcasm and dipped right back out. But at night, when the house got quiet, it changed.

That's when Tae-hyun sent a voice note. Not even thirty seconds. Casual.

"You know, for someone who says he doesn't talk much, you said a hell of a lot that night.."

There was a pause in the audio. And then.. barely audible Tae added,

"…and I don't think you regret a word."

Joon-Won didn't play it twice, but he remembered every inflection.

He didn't answer that one right away either.

.

.

.

He found himself listening to music on the drive to work again, something he hadn't done in months. Looking out the window longer than he needed to. His mind quieter, but heavier.

It wasn't guilt that bothered him. It was how much he liked it.

How much he thought about Tae-hyun's fingers skimming his arm. That stubborn look in his eyes. The way he refused to apologize after saying something that wasn't entirely appropriate.. but also wasn't wrong.

Every message Tae sent afterward felt like a continuation of that conversation.

T.:

'You ever got bored in meetings and imagine pressing mute on everyone?'

T.:

'What do you actually do to relax? Don't say reading. You look like a lair when you say that.'

T.:

'If someone tied your hands behind your back, could you still keep your composure?'

That one made Joon-Won pause mid-coffee sip. He didn't answer for five hours.

When he did, it was just:

Joon-Won:

'Depends on who's tying them.'

Tae left that on read for a full day.

The next night, he replied with a voice note again, this time quieter, more deliberate.

'You've got that kind of energy that makes people want to prove something to you. Like, show you they can keep up. Or misbehave just to see how you'd handle it.'

Joon-Won listened to it with the bathroom door locked, wife asleep down the hall. jaw clenched in slight frustration at Tae-hyun clear suggestiveness.

He didn't reply to it. But he didn't delete it either.

.

.

On the fourth night, the tension cracked a little.

Tae-hyun sent a photo, still nothing obvious. Just the hem of his shirt slightly untucked, the top button undone, and his fingers holding the edge of a glass. Dim lighting. Casual, careless. Deliberately vague.

T.:

'Can't sleep. Thought you might be up.'

Joon-Won had been up, actually. His phone buzzed quietly beside his cup of coffee. The moment he saw the photo, he took a slow breath and leaned back in his chair. No words. Just a glance at the time, 11:47 p.m.

He didn't respond right away. But he didn't look away either. He let his eyes take in the photo in front of him for a beat longer, the way Tae-hyun fingers wrapped around the glass so delicately.

Eventually, he sent a photo back, his own hand resting near a file filled with papers he hadn't really been reading, cuff rolled up, veins just faintly visible. The coffee cup in the frame half empty.

Joon-Won:

'You always text like this when you're tired?'

Tae-hyun answered quicker than expected.

T.:

'You always reply like that when you're not?'

Joon-Won looked at the screen for a moment too long, the corners of his mouth lifting before he could stop it. He let it sit. Then:

Joon-won:

'And what exactly are you hoping I'll say?'

T.:

'Something you'll regret in the morning . Or not at all.'

Joon-Won:

'You're getting comfortable.'

T.:

'Should I not be?'

Joon-Won:

'I didn't say that.'

There was a pause. Three dots blinked on screen, then disappeared. Then blinked again.

Finally:

T.:

'If I say something out of line. Just say stop. Otherwise, I'm going to keep going.'

Joon-Won's fingers hovered over the keyboard. He didn't type. Just watched the screen. Let the silence speak for itself.

It was permission without saying the word.

And both of them knew it.

.

.

After a week of going back and forth with messages, sometimes voice notes from both of them. It became a habit.

It was just past 1:00 a.m.

The kind of hour where the air feels thicker and the city quieter, where decisions aren't filtered, and self-control is only an illusion.

Joon-Won lay in bed on his side, the soft weight of his comforter curled at his waist. His wife was turned away from him, deep in sleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing barely audible.

The phone lit up beside him.

T.:

'Can't sleep. Mind's too loud.'

Joon-Won:

'Too much caffeine or too many thoughts?'

T.:

'You tell me. One of them might've started after your reply last night.'

Joon-Won smirked in the dark, thumb hovering over the keyboard. He typed something. Deleted it. Typed again. Deleted again.

Then Tae sent a follow-up.

T.:

'.. Joon-won.'

No context. No question. Just his name, unprovoked—bold, like it was meant to be felt more than read.

And for some reason, that did it.

Joon-Won sat up in bed, jaw tightening as he stared at the screen. Reading the last message over and over again.

Seconds later, Tae's phone lit up with an incoming call.

"…You really don't sleep, do you?"

Tae's voice came through low, playful, but clearly caught off guard. There was the faint sound of rustling sheets in the background.

Joon-Won leaned back against the headboard, voice calm. Steady as he got off of the bed to not wake his wife up and walked downstairs slowly, making his way towards the backyard.

"Don't text me like that and act surprised I called."

"Like what?" Tae asked, a grin audible in his tone.

"You know what you wrote."

"I just said your name."

"Exactly."

There was silence. The charged kind. Tae didn't answer right away, but he didn't hang up either. Joon-Won could hear him breathing, slow and shallow.

Tae broke it first, voice quieter this time. "Was that… too much?"

"No," Joon-Won replied, firm. "It was intentional."

He let that settle. He wanted it to settle.

"I wasn't sure you'd actually call," Tae-hyun admitted quitely. A shuffle of his bed could be heard as if he was leaving it.

Joon-Won's smile was subtle as he slowly sat himself down onto a bench in their backyard. "You know I don't bluff."

Another silence passed, this one more comfortable, more dangerous.

Tae exhaled, soft. "You always talk like that?" He asked in a curious tone, a subtle hint of wind could be heard, he clearly also went outside to speak more comfortably.

"Like what?"

"Like you already know what's going to happen next?"

Joon-Won's eyes narrowed slightly in the dark. His head tilting back and eyes closed for a second before he husked out into the phone. "Do you want me to?"

"…maybe."

His voice had dropped an octave. The kind of maybe that meant 'absolutely, but only if you say it first.'

Joon-Won let the tension simmer before answering, fingers curled loosely around his phone. "You keep playing like this, and you're going to get more than just my voice."

Tae-hyun let out a breathy laugh but it was shaky, just a little. "Im not scared of you."

"Not yet," Joon-Won murmured, "but I think you like being told what to do."

"And I think you like hearing me say your name."

They both went still at that.

Joon-Won shifted on the bench, adjusting his body as he leaned his forearm forward against his thighs and whispered. "Say it again."

"…Joon-won."

His name sounded different this time, less teasing, more deliberate.

It sent a pulse down his spine.

He could feel Tae-hyun's energy through the line. Could picture him sitting there, smirking into the phone, probably not even realizing the effect his voice had. Or maybe he did.

And that made it worse.

"You don't even realize what you're doing to me," Joon-Won said under his breath, half to himself.

"What if I do?" Tae asked.

"You're playing with something you can't handle."

Tae let out a soft, almost breathy chuckle. "Then handle it for me."

That silence that followed was lethal.

Neither of them said it, but they both knew: if they were alone in the same room right now, something would've already happened. And it wasn't going to be as subtle as last time at the bar.

The phone buzzed against Joon-Won's ear, another call coming in. He didn't even look. Just declined it immediately.

Tae heard it.

"Youre popular tonight."

"I'm busy."

"You make me feel like I've disturbed you." Tae laughed, voice lower, breathier. "Youre the one who called me."

"I'll call you again if you keep talking like that."

Tae hummed. "Promise?" He whispered softly.

Joon-Won didn't answer. Only hummed back deeply.

Because in that moment, silence said more.

The silence lingered, neither of them ready to hang up.

Joon-Won stared at the sky, the low hum of the phone line between them somehow louder than anything in the backyard. It wasn't just about what had been said, it was the way they said it. How quickly the air had shifted from casual to charged, soft to dangerous.

He thought about Tae's voice again.

How he said his name like he wanted to taste it.

He exhaled through his nose and rubbed at his jaw, the ache in his chest slowly joining the tension lower in his stomach. He wanted to say something else. Something he shouldn't.

But instead, he heard Tae's voice again, quieter this time, like he'd moved the phone closer to his mouth.

"Hey, Joon-won.."

"Hm?"

"If we weren't both married," Tae whispered slowly as he played with his ring subtly, "what do you think would've happened that night?"

Joon-Won's pulse ticked louder in his ears.

He didn't answer right away.

Not because he didn't have a response, he had too many. None of them were safe or appropriate enough to say out loud.

"…don't ask questions you don't want the answer to," he finally said, voice low and husky.

"I do want the answer." Tae replied, almost immediately, almost too soft.

Joon-Won pressed the phone harder to his ear. "Then I hope you realize I wouldn't have let you walk away that easily."

A breath caught on the other end. No laughter this time. Just a pause.

"I wouldn't have wanted to."

Another silence.

Another heartbeat too long.

Then Tae-hyun cleared his throat and tried to play it off. "Well, good thing we're both responsible citizens now."

Joon-Won chuckled darkly. "That's the lie you tell yourself to sleep?" He said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Tae didn't answer but Joon-Won could feel his smile through the line.

Then, just as he was about to say something else, the line disconnected. Not abruptly, just a quiet end, no goodbye. Like the call itself had become too much.

Joon-Won stared at the screen.

Stillness. Everything was completely still.

Then the phone buzzed again…a voice note.

He hesitated.

Then tapped.

T.:

"You wouldn't have let me walk away.. that stuck with me. I'll probably regret sending this in the morning, but…" He passed then continued in a whisper.

"… you really shouldn't talk like that to someone like me, Joon-won. Makes me wonder what else you'd make me do."

The audio cut out.

And just like that, the silence got heavier.

Joon-Won stared at the ground now, jaw tense, muscles flexed under the moonlight. He didn't reply. He didn't even move.

But he saved the voice note.

Listened to it again.

And the second time, he smiled slightly to himself.

A slow, dangerous kind of smile.

….

He went back to bed after that, settling back down next to his still sleeping wife with his phone in his hand.

Joon-Won stared at the message for a long time.

Not just once. Twice. Then a third time before placing his phone speaker on a low volume up to his ear.

Each listen brought a new detail. The slight breath at the start. The husk in Tae's voice as he tried not to sound too serious. That little pause right before the word "me."

He pulled the blanket tighter around his waist.

The phone screen dimmed after a few seconds, but he didn't move.

Something about it all felt unreal. Illicit. Like a thread had been tugged just enough to unravel something bigger. And it wasn't just psychologically anymore.

It wasn't just about teasing, or flirting, or slipping up.

It was about how this made him feel.

Wanted.

Understood.

Unpredictably alive.

He clicked on Tae's contact. And started typing without a second thought.

Joon-Won:

'If I told you what I was thinking right now, I wouldn't sleep at all."

His finger hovered over the send button. Hesitating to send the text for a few seconds.

But then…

He pressed send. Fast and without thinking.

Then locked his phone and set it face down onto his nightstand.

Joon-Won turned onto his back, one arm behind his head, eyes on the ceiling.

The quiet filled in all the blanks.

And he didn't sleep that night.. Not because of guilt.

Because of possibility.