Chapter 39: Myeong & Roco – Part 2

MYEONG

Both of them looked down to see the wet patch at the front of his pants. He quickly pulled them down, his erection popping over his waistband. Myeong reached to grab it.

“Told you yours was strange,” she said.

Roco smiled, then winced. He crawled further over her. Then he was kissing her.

Myeong spread her thighs, bracing herself. He pressed his forehead against hers, staring deeply into her eyes as he pushed inside her.

Myeong sucked in a breath, her eyes trending toward the ceiling as she shifted her hips to accommodate his girth. Gritting her teeth, she gripped onto his shoulders.

She suddenly thought back to the conversation she’d had with the ladies. ~It’s the way they use it. Not its size.~ She was suddenly unsure if that was true.

Roco pushed deeply into her until there was nowhere to go. Then he began thrusting. Grabbing her face, he pulled her mouth to his.

He was gentle, not pushing himself too far in, making sure to shift his pelvis a little upward just the way she liked it so it rubbed more against her clitoris. The pleasure was immediate, drowning away the discomfort.

“~Roco~.”

“Myeong,” he gasped back.

He thrust again and again as Myeong bucked her hips along with him. They both came with a shudder and a gasp.

Again, he planted his mouth against hers as he rode the last of his orgasm. Of ~their~ orgasm.

Myeong smoothed her hands down his back, reaching for his backside.

He stopped thrusting, his face buried in her neck, his breath warm against her throat. She kissed his cheek.

They didn’t move, breathing together, feeling each other, sharing each other’s warmth. But it didn’t take long before Myeong felt that familiar pressure on her shoulders. It was worse now—now she could feel it pressing upon her chest.

“Go to sleep, Roco,” she whispered in his ear.

He groaned in defiance. Myeong wriggled beneath him until he was forced to pull away.

She reached her hand between her legs, catching most of his semen before it wet the bottom sheet.

Roco was kneeling on the floor, hunched over, his eyes more bloodshot, his erection pointing at her like a red log.

“Go to sleep,” she warned him as she slipped off the bed and went to the bathroom to wash her hands.

She grabbed onto the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. Her whole body was flushed red. Her eyes were bright. Her face seemed to glow. She’d never looked so pretty, so…~sexy~.

When she returned, Roco was lying on his back in bed, his eyes closed, already asleep. She watched him for several moments: the hard angles of his body, the way his broad hand rested upon his big chest.

He was breathing long and deep. His penis rested limp and sated across his left thigh.

Myeong was smiling as she went over and climbed into bed beside him. His eyelids fluttered as he turned over and pulled her against him.

He kissed the nape of her neck. His hand was resting upon her abdomen, and she threaded her fingers through his.

ROCO

Roco jerked his eyes open. The sound of Myeong’s screaming was ringing in his ears. Paul had been slapping her, over and over again, until Roco swore he could feel the thud of it reverberating in his temples.

His chest was sore. Somewhere deep down in his guts, he was burning up. He felt so tense his jaw was aching.

Outwardly, Roco stayed calm and silent, listening to her breathing. Her nightmare was over; she was resting comfortably now.

And yet, it felt like Paul was still standing over him. Roco felt it so keenly the muscles bunched around his neck as though in preparation for a fight.

Stupidly, he scanned the shadows. But of course he wasn’t there, only Roco’s distorted thoughts and fears.

Very slowly, he released Myeong, sliding his arms away as he pulled from the bed. Her hair covered her face, and she murmured faintly under her breath.

Roco touched his cheek where Paul had hit him, then gripped his knees, taking deep breaths as he sat on the edge of the mattress.

He wondered if this was normal for Rictorians. Were the other senior operatives experiencing the same thing he was?

Suddenly, he remembered the streaks found on her scan. Only Silo’s partner had a similar one.

Shaking his head, he got up and went to the bathroom.

He stood under the hot water as it drummed against his head, but he couldn’t rid his mind of those terrible images. Those terrible ~memories~.

For they ~were~ memories—he could feel it. He braced his fists up against the wall. All he wanted to do was hit something—preferably that bastard’s face.

He wished harder than ever that he’d been able to go to Rictor 5. He would have ripped his fucking head off. Anything to make Roco feel better. Anything to make ~Myeong~ feel better.

“Roco?”

Roco turned with a start.

“What are you doing up?” she asked, scratching her head, her eyes heavily hooded with sleep.

Despite his rage, Roco’s eyes swept over her body, the little hills of her breasts, her dark soft nipples, the jut of her lovely hips.

Then he saw the bruises—purple and black, green and yellow, all over her; her frightened eyes. Paul had even cut her once. Roco would have to look for it. Somewhere on the back of her arm. There’d been a lot of blood.

He looked away. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Myeong stared at him. Roco felt her guilt squeeze him around the heart.

“And it’s not your fault!” he snapped. “I just hate being helpless. I hate feeling powerless.”

He heard the light slap of her feet as she came over. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she braced her chin against the middle of his back.

Roco grabbed her hands. Her little hands. She pressed her lips between his shoulder blades.

“Tell me,” he said. “Is it normal for your men to hurt you? Or is this Paul just one of a kind?”

Myeong hesitated. “My father was a good man. He loved my mother.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“No, it’s not normal. Most men are good. Only, there are a lot who aren’t.”

“I don’t understand it.” He stroked his fingers over hers. “How can they do it? What do they get out of it?”

“I guess it makes them feel tough.”

He snorted. “By hurting someone weaker than themselves?”

“Perhaps…perhaps they’re the ones who are weak. On the inside, at least. Paul…”

Roco twisted his mouth at the feel of the tightness in her throat. “…He couldn’t deal with things. Not like me.”

Roco smiled at the swollen feeling in his chest. He could hear it in her voice too—pride. He hadn’t felt her feel ~that~ before.

Roco snorted with laughter as she dropped her hands to his groin.

Myeong laughed.

He turned and took her face. The water had plastered her dark hair to her head.

He brushed it away from her shoulder as he leaned down to kiss her on the mouth. Then he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her hard into his chest.