For better, or for worse, the summer camp you and Felix work at has been a mainstay since the two of you were children. Now in university, working there became an easy way to make some money to line your pockets, the rhythms of it become as easy as breathing, alongside the laundry list of ridiculous rules that keep getting grandfathered in due to unforeseen circumstances.
The lake is cordoned off after midnight courtesy of a skinny dipping mishap with Chan one year, trying to impress his crush. No curry on Friday nights, especially not after the mystery slop Jisung fed to a group of campers who vomited for what seemed like weeks. And after Hyunjin’s shower room misadventures with his then-girlfriend?
No dating between camp staff. None. Zero.
Ultimately, maybe you’re better for it. Without the distractions of other people, work became the priority: between arts and crafts and teaching how to ride a canoe, summers became a time filled to the brim with responsibility and soaking in the sun.
That is, however, before he had heard you, had to lie there inside your shared tent, felt the way your body shifted as you tensed and relax to the slick of your fingers onto your cunt. In turn, you heard the soft growl of his voice, felt the tension of his clenching thighs as he came, the unmistakable moan as he did so.
Then, the dating ban becomes unbearable, as are all these attempts to skirt past it.
“Have your favourite movie,“ Felix grins, sidles up against you in the way you’re too familiar with, Peter Pan in one hand, his chin hooking over your shoulder on the other. Saturday nights, the campers were sent to sleep early, which in your experience, had always meant shimmying out of the girl’s cabin through a broken window they still hadn’t fixed.
You remember the sunrises with Felix in your pubescent years, the drop of his voice and the glow of his skin, sun-loved and golden warm as dawn cracks over the horizon. There will be nothing like that again, jagged rays of light cresting across mountaintops, him hoisting you back up through the window just in time for morning checks.
Felix always seemed to find a way to weasel his way out of consequences, sitting in the mess hall, winking at you from across the way. In the same way your counsellors must have turned a blind eye, then, as Felix shoves the VHS tape into the rickety, ancient player, the two of you silently agree to do the same.
He invades your space with a gracious ease, leans his body weight onto you as the CRT screen flickers, bands sizzling across the thick glass, the sound of the familiar Disney jingle tinny and fractured through the speakers.
Shoulder crashes into shoulder, your skin sticking to his from the faint sheen of sweat, humid summer heat, an act that echoes of an entire childhood spent drawing crayon drawings on Felix’s bedroom floor, trading Pokemon cards with the schoolyard bully. This all sits sharply in contrast to his breath against your ear: “Wanna watch?“ and you know he doesn’t mean the movie, not really.
This has become the routine: while the rest of the counsellors run off for the night to the nearest town, to party and break free for the evening, the two of you volunteer to stay in your respective cabins, trying to stave off suspicions.
The two of you find your way to the staff lounge in the evenings, the only two adults aside from your manager, Peniel, who would rather spend the night playing video games on his wired ethernet connection than being responsible for campers.
Peniel didn’t mind, appreciated, even, how diligently you and Felix worked, didn’t notice the locked staff lounge door, the movie being played just a touch too loud.
It had worked so far, and the hope is that it continues to work.
You’d never been the sort to want to join in the revelry, barely adults loosening the shackles of responsibility in the podunk nearest town. Felix’s insistent on staying back seems to be out of some kind of longstanding loyalty for your friendship, and he makes a big, fussy showing about it.
All of this is nearly believable, but he’d always been the better liar of the two of you. If your colleagues even took the slightest close examination of you, your alibis would fall apart at their hastily knotted seams.
Felix means watch him, as his fingers wander onto the waistband of his shorts, lips pursed and pouting slightly in concentration at the movie as the scenes of London unfurl, static and grainy, across the screen. The light dances off his skin, off those well worn paths of freckled constellations your eyes admire.
When he smiles, the tug of the corners of his mouth speaking to feline mischief, pupils wide, blown, moments before disaster, you wet your own lips and imagine his tongue, the one he bites between his front teeth. “Always,” you reply, an attempt at blithe, and your heart picks up its pace, face turning back towards the movie, one furtive, sidelong glance at him.
He isn’t looking at you, eyes glued onto a movie that he could practically recite, the Peter to your Wendy, seemingly enraptured by the opening scene.
If not for his hand, that continues to play with the string ties of his shorts, pulls the bow apart. He snaps the waistband of it, careful, the sound of it against the skin of his stomach making you jump faintly in your skin. “We’re good?“ Felix intones softly, feeling you move, and his hand is no longer on his shorts, but resting against the pulse of your wrist.
The mere touch slips, settles into ambiguity as he turns to look at you again, as his fingers retreat as quickly as they had arrived. In some ways, it is worse than just touching you, and he feels the fire simmering in his stomach at the absence of connection, the tips of his fingers tingling.
“Yes,” and it seems like you can’t manage anything more than single word responses, the dizzying spin of Peter Pan tugging Wendy off to Neverland an afterthought as Felix swallows again, a mouthful of metallic want.
“Okay.”
As his own hands return to touch himself, to hook thumbs onto his waistbands and pull his bottoms downwards, he watches as you cup and then slide your hands up your chest, the crop of the camp t-shirt just short enough to expose your stomach in the motion. Even breathing seems too much now, the careful way he lifts his slim hips upwards, enough to free his cock from the confines.
Control had never been Felix’s forte, but the rewards had always outweighed immediate gratification, and after all, he shouldn’t be touching you to begin with.
Wasn’t touching you. Couldn’t get in trouble for it. Fantasies in your brains, imagination doing ninety percent of the work. That wasn’t dating, right? Couldn’t get fired over it.
Pretending there’s nothing going on between you is the worst part about this, though, especially as his own fingers, slightly clammy, wrap around his cock, gripping the length. Suddenly, the point of contact between your shoulders, the skin, ignites.
You must feel it too, the way your breathing changes, suddenly through parted lips as your hand snakes underneath the band of your own shorts, and, Felix can only assume, underneath your panties. Though he doesn’t have to imagine it, it’s half the fun, guessing which ones, keeping a personal tally if he’s guessed right.
“It’s,“ you stutter to a start, inhaling sharply past your teeth, a slight arch of your back betraying the fact that you’re sliding your fingers against your clit, the pressure of it growing your arousal.
Your chest rises, and from the way your nipples pebble against your shirt, he can tell you aren’t wearing a bra, makes his hand move against his cock a little more eagerly than he intends, as his own voice rises to match yours:
“What?” The single word contains too many stammers, cuts into the thick silence that the movie barely punctuates. You let out a punched out noise, shaking your head as your eyes screw shut.
Felix melts at the sight of you, pulls your touching shoulders with Herculean effort apart, and turns his body towards you. “Is everything okay?“ Concern is a well worn suit, an expression that he wears well when it comes to you, as he leans in, this time his forehead resting gently against yours.
If not for your hand still underneath your shorts, his cock hard, leaking, pressed against his stomach, the scene is sweet. From this close, he can feel the heat of your breath, the exertion that breathing has on you. When you look up, he realises his mistake as soon as he’s made it, your gaze through your eyelashes freezing him in place.
The part of your lips again, this time to speak, reminds him he hasn’t kissed you, not once, despite all the times he’s imagined it, come close to it, bowed into you when the two of you are on the verge of euphoria. “I’m, frustrated?“ Quickly, you glance downwards, and he understands almost immediately.
“Oh.“ Then, louder: “Do you want me to give you a hand?”
Silence is interrupted by the sound of Tinkerbell, and for a moment, Felix wants to tell you to forget it, to forget the suggestion, the beginnings of a nervous laugh bubbling between his lips to relieve the tension between the two of you.
When you don’t speak, he can feel his body buzz uncomfortably with all the implications, of what the two of you had been doing for going on three weeks already. There would be no way to go back if he pushed any further, past the breaking point, past—
and your kiss is so unexpected that he almost jerks away from the motion, finds himself frantically seeking to return it. There is no possible way his lips could have been yearning for yours, the space between perfect, carved out just for you, the pout of your bottom lip soft and plush. How could it be possible to long for something he didn’t even know until now?
You taste like the crackle of warm sugar, something unbidden, stolen, and he presses himself against you in desperation, forgetting that you couldn’t, shouldn’t be touching like this, even as you incline into him in return. It’s feverish, this kiss that invites touch, and he reaches for you again, traces trembling hand to jawbone.
“Yes?” Felix asks, the word incendiary, asking for a match.
You’re so close that he can see the speckles of colour in your eyes, the whites of them tinged blue from the movie that no longer matters, and you ignite his entire being with a single syllable.
“Yes.”
Frantic, as if he’s afraid you would suddenly come to your senses, remember that you really shouldn’t, couldn’t, Felix shifts your body against his, fits you against him easily.
You don’t sit in his lap, just half your back against his chest, shoulder digging into the slight curve of him leaning over you. He doesn’t kiss you, doesn’t let you again, as he reaches for you, places his palm on your stomach before he also slides his hand past your shorts, into your panties.
There’s hardly enough space there for the two of you, but his intention is clear, his voice barely louder than a growl now, “I’ll help you, yeah? You just gotta let me.“
He can’t feel your pussy, not with your hand clamped over it, but the heat of it is unmistakable, radiating from you. “Open your legs wider,” his voice dips lower than he intends, thick with need, “I can’t help you touch yourself otherwise, yeah?”
And from the sound of your fingers, slicking wetly, you must need him as badly as he needs you. You whimper softly, the words escaping, hurried, as though if they didn’t run, you wouldn’t have a chance to say it, “Lix, we really shouldn’t be… I think we should…ah!”
“Why not?” his mouth fumbles against your neck, free hand sliding on top of your thigh, helping you part your legs further when you don’t make a move. “I’m not even the one touching, fingering you. We can’t get in trouble for something we’re not doing, right? Do you want me to stop?”
You’re trembling on top of him, shoulder shoved sharply into his breastbone as you throw your head back, leaning on him, your eyes upturned towards him again, drunken on feeling. “N-no, I don’t think,“ and your words stick to his ribs, fish hook sinks that tell him he’s already in too deep, pulling at his heart.
Even just the feeling of your fingers, rhythmic underneath his as you thrust them shallowly in and out of yourself, threatens to drown him.
Having you in his space like this feels like knife knicks and salted wounds, and he lets himself have another shaking, careful kiss, ghosts it across the top of your flushed cheeks, darkened skin. “Tell me, okay,“ Felix does his best to keep his voice calm, to ease his own beating heart inside his throat, “Okay? If you want me to stop, or if it hurts, or—”
“It feels good, your hand, Lix, it feels,” your eyes close as you say this, and he feels it directly in his stomach, his cock flexing, dripping with precum despite his best efforts to control himself, “good.“ The struggle to finish your sentences makes him feel like he’s been chewing marbles, like he should gnaw the insides of his cheeks to keep calm.
“Good,” Felix echoes softly, “good. I’ll make you feel even better, yeah?” Mutely, you give him a slight nod, and he feels himself tense up, part disbelief, and he chases.
His hand on top of yours moves, down, past the curl of your fingers, stilled inside of you. You seem to have a late realisation as to what he meant by better, and you flutter, “Lix, it’s not going to…”
He then slides his fingers on top your first knuckle, probing, experimental, before you feel yourself being stretched full with the addition of his finger, crowding next to yours inside you. There’s a soft exhale from your lungs, a gentle rounding out your lips to fit the protest that no longer has any bearings to stand on, “…fi…t, oh, oh my god.”
All he can think of now is the feeling of you, tight, warm, around his finger, the feeling of your index and middle fingers against him only contributing to the sensation. “Shh,“ through his teeth, he then sucks in his cheeks, like drinking through a straw, biting the flesh of his mouth.
It’s all he can do to prevent himself from losing it all together, to fucking his fingers into you, handle you roughly, find what touches against your clit make you break. “Does this help?“
The question earns a reaction from you, a slight movement from your fingers compounding the way your cunt tightens. Felix can’t help the moan he lets out in response, wanting more as you nod again in confirmation.
He’s trying his best not to get lost in the sensation, in the scent of your skin, the sweat that’s rolling down his forehead from both the summer heat and simply the feeling of you, so close to him. It’s made worse by your hips, now moving in small, gyrating movements into his hand.
Touch hungry, he composes himself just enough to mumble, “Move your fingers with me,” before moving his inside of you, pushing you to do the same. The intended effect is the whine that releases from your throat, as if there had been a stranglehold there keeping it tight.
At the same time, your shoulder drop, string-cut, and you nod, seemingly out of instinct.
The motion of his fingers with yours is slow, but with the way your thighs tighten, in time with each successive curl of his fingers, is more than enough. “Felix?“ His full name from your mouth brings him straight back, the wavering of it signaling something wrong as your head turns towards the door.
Quickly, Felix scrambles for the blanket on the couch, throwing it over between the two of you just as the staff lounge door struggles open, the lock rattling. His fingers still inside you, Felix turns his body towards the door, watching as Jeongin walks in, can of beer in hand.
“Why’dja lock the door?“ he slurs his words just a little, clearly from the night out.
“Why are you back so early?” and Felix doesn’t mean to sound accusatory, but he feels the way you squirm underneath the blanket, try to withdraw your hand even as he gently pushes the heel of his into the back of yours.
Stay still.
“Car on the way to downtown broke down. We had to push it back up the hill, took an hour. Started a fire with beers by the lake, if you two want to join.“ And he can’t focus, not really, not with the way you tighten around him, around your own fingers.
Shaking his head, he indicates towards you. “Not feeling well. Best friend duty calls, yeah?” It’s a signal for you to agree, but you can’t even manage that much, shivering slightly as you lean back into him.
Jeongin eyes the two of you, near suspicion, but shrugs, taking another swig of his beer. “Your call. We’ll be there. There’s fever reducers in the nurse’s office, yeah?“
Dismissively, singularly focused, Felix nods again, watching as Jeongin closes the door behind him.
With another few pumps of his finger against yours, this time rougher, more insistent, he pulls out of you. “More?“ You’re still shaking slightly, fingers slick as you also withdraw your fingers.
The confirmation is in a soft echo, “More,” and Felix now guides your fingertips, alongside his, to your clit, rubbing, your own touch at first unsure, made firmer by his own touch. “Lix, Lix, Felix,” you whimper softly, and hastily, he shoves two fingers back into your cunt, propriety forgotten, finger fucking you properly.
It’s a delicious release of the flood gates, the way your body responds to him, your eyes fluttering close immediately, as you try without success to stop yourself from moaning, mirrored in his groans by your ear.
You’re still rolling circles over your own clit as he finger fucks you, and the feeling of you, so wet on his hand, so desperate to get off that you’re moving your hips into him again, has him so hard that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The only thing left to do is to make sure you’re coming before he even entertains the possibility of anything else, and he’s desperate for this, too.
“Feels good?“ Felix asks, attaching his mouth to your neck again, this time more purposeful, this time with more teeth, inviting your answer with a graze of them against the shell of your ear.
“Feels good, feelsgood, ah, Felix, I’m, there.” Whether it’s an indication of destination, or the spot that his fingers touch, velvet and soft inside of you, he isn’t all the way sure, but he moves with purpose anyways, grinding into you until you’re quaking, your tailbone grinding into his thigh.
The next thing he knows, you’re grabbing at him, arm around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss as you’re fumbling with kicking off your shorts, barely make it to shoving your panties off one leg, still looped around the other. It’s a flash bang of movements, and he’s suddenly aware that he’s still erect, cock red, needy, just as you roll yourself down against him, missing, mindless.
When he says your name, cups your cheek with one firm hand, you’re shaking your head back and forth. “Please,” you beg softly, and there’s a dirty, vulgar kind of satisfaction in this word for Felix, the way it wheezes out of you.
“Please?” he repeats it for himself, watches you nod, so eager, so needy.
“Empty, please, I need,” and whatever already diminished self control he had professed to having disappears. His hands retreat briefly, enough to grip your hips as he moves you onto him completely. It takes a few uneven tries, you too incoherent to be of any help but grinding down onto him, his cock catching the lip of your pussy.
It makes electricity course its way through his entire body, the feeling itself near enough to make him lose it then and there, and Felix grits his teeth, jaw tight as he finally pushes himself inside you.
The feeling alone is enough, the wetness he had felt before with his fingers ten-fold, a loaded gun as you rock on top of him. There is barely any rhythm to it, barely anything but barely concealed rutting, wanting, needing, both of you dissolving into the sensation of each other.
“Fuck,” obscene, the word goads you into moving faster, and he tightens one arm across your stomach, pulling back as you rise, thrusting upwards to meet you. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Fuck, I’m going to lose my fucking mind. I’m going to fuck you to make it all up to you, yeah?”
And all he needs, really, is the indulgence in your reply, the way your eyes roll back as you look at him, all fucked out, all sex-drunk, “Yes, yes,“ consequences be damned, dating ban be damned, all his.
↳Part 2/9 ofUnmatched, 2022 rewrite. See part 1 for story description.
↳Female reader x Lee Know, female reader x Hyunjin
↳5.6k
!Strong language, established relationship, marriage au, love triangle au, thriller, romance, stripper-slash-escort Lee Know, husband Lee Know, heavy angst and tension, explicit sexual content, office sex, make-up sex, dirty talk, scenes of conflict, alcohol consumption, stripping, emotional turmoil, themes of casual sex, promiscuity, commitment issues and adult themes throughout !
Chan’s announcement cloaks the staff room in a reverent silence.
Even as the thud of his booted footsteps fade down the corridor, the tension remains palpable. Indeed, every person in proximity feels it, yet none of them dare to break it.
You’re in utter panic.
Your nerves are working overtime, all proverbial hands are on deck trying to calm you, yet it’s futile. You’re trembling, freezing all of a sudden. Heart pounding, a prickling of icy sweat nips at the nape of your neck and small of your back.
Yet worse than all that, is that you dare not look at Minho. You’re terrified of what you might see.
Of course, he’s the first to collect himself. He steps towards you, hand outstretched in what might well be an act of comfort, yet you can’t allow yourself the weakness of his touch. Can’t allow yourself the addling toxin that comes with his excuses, his justifications, his voice of reason that will assuredly side with Chan, because why wouldn’t he?
“I, uh… I’m going to call you that cab, Lix, okay? J— Just sit tight for a while.”
Voice shaky, polite and professional demeanour so clearly forced it’s enough to inspire pity, but nobody addresses it. They simply nod, smile, don’t try to stop you or offer words of consolation as you leave the room without a glance at your husband.
You suppose it was bound to happen, when your pretence of togetherness crumbles, for it was fragile at best. Your breaths come too sparse, too quick. Your temples throb, your racing, panicked heart is too erratic as it runs away from you, wanting out of the confines of your chest.
Space. That’s what you need. A little alone time to simply process, rationalise, perhaps break down in isolation.
The door to your office in sight, you rush the last few steps with unwanted tears, flinging it open and finding solace with your back against the hard wood as you slam it shut, shoring up for the intrusion you’re sure is coming.
concept:condescending minho. think about how fucking patronising he’d be with his fingers hooked perfectly inside your cunt, pressing so delicately on your spot, “i think it’s too much for you baby,” he’d say when you start rolling your hips, “your little pussy can’t cope, can it?” and when you wildly nod your head and attempt to control your whining he’d hum in disdain. “oh you can’t help it can you? poor little dumb slut lost your mind just from my fingers.” and you lose your control all over again — begging him to go faster, to go harder just to feel the sweet release you long for. he’d never give it to you that easy, though; he’d slowly pump his fingers in and out of you, watching with glee how you attempt to grind down on them, craving to fuck yourself faster. “so needy, aren’t we?” he’d laugh, halting his fingers altogether. “i bet if i just keep them like this, you’d just get yourself off wouldn’t you?” and who are you to disappoint, you fuck yourself beautifully on his fingers, unashamed of just how loud you’re being or how minho is entranced by the view of your cunt swallowing up his fingers. “look at you go baby, you’re such a good girl aren’t you?”
concept:it’s been a long, tiring evening of gaming for felix; you’ve heard him raging at teammates all night long and when you bring him a well needed snack you can see just how stressed he is. “come to bed,” you say while squeezing his shoulders as he hammers away at his keyboard, face illuminated by the flashes of the screen, “you can game more tomorrow.” when he shakes his head in refusal and nudges your hands from his shoulders, you roll your eyes. then — an idea hits you. felix is far too busy to notice you slip from view, falling to your knees and furtively crawling beneath his desk. when you come face to face with his crotch you bite your lip before running your hands leisurely up and down his thighs. above you, you can hear the confusion in his voice as he continues chatting to his teammates yet he doesn’t dare stop you. with the green light to go ahead, you begin palming him through his shorts; watching with delight as his cock starts to stir to life. still, felix’s voice doesn’t falter so you shimmy the material down and free his now fully hard dick. then, you do as any good girlfriend would and take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his cock head and moaning in amusement as his breath hitches in his throat from the vibrations. “fuck,”he groans, so quietly you can barely hear him as your hand wraps around the base of his cock while your tongue laps at the slit. he twitches, a sign that he’s close already and you grin; letting your tongue loll out of your mouth as your hand glides swiftly along his dick and right on cue he cums and fuck it’s loud. much louder than he intended. it’s all over your face, some on your tongue and some dribbling down the bridge of your nose. there’s almost no warning when he ends the call with his friends and reaches down, grabs a fistful of your hair and hoists you up, pulling your head backwards for good measure. “you think that’s funny?” he says, voice low, loving the way you squirm in his hand. “my turn now.”
