Ye Jun
He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, wearing the same black hoodie he'd had on at dinner. Jaw tight. Eyes flicking up toward the ceiling like he could hear if anyone moved upstairs.
"You took forever," he whispered.
"You said quiet. I was being quiet." I stepped closer, voice barely above breath. "Mom almost got up for water when I passed the kitchen."
His nostrils flared. He grabbed the front of my shirt, not rough, just enough to pull me the last two steps and steered me toward the far corner where the old sectional was shoved against the wall, out of sight from the stairs.
No lights on. Just the faint blue glow from the cable box and the security-system panel.
He sat first. Spread his thighs. Looked up at me like a challenge.
I stayed standing a second longer than necessary, just to make him wait, then dropped to my knees between his legs. The carpet was old and scratchy. I didn't care.
He leaned forward, voice so low it was almost just air. "We have maybe twenty minutes before Dad's snoring stops and he comes down for a smoke."
"Then stop talking and unzip."
His fingers hesitated only for a heartbeat then tugged the zipper down. Carefully.
I didn't waste time mouthing off. Not here. Not with both parents one floor up.
I leaned in, took him in my mouth slowly at first, just the head, letting my tongue flatten against the underside while my hand wrapped around the base to keep him steady. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. One hand came up fast, cupped the back of my head not pushing, just holding. Like he needed something to anchor himself.
I hollowed my cheeks and slid down further. Felt the muscle in his thigh jump under my palm.
He didn't speak again. Couldn't. Every time he opened his mouth all that came out was a stifled, shaky exhale.
I worked him steady, not fast… fast would make a lot of noise. Wet sounds were already risky enough. I kept my lips sealed tight, tongue pressing hard on every upstroke, thumb rubbing slow circles right under the head when I pulled back to breathe.
His fingers tightened in my hair. Not pulling. Just trembling.
I glanced up once. His head was tipped back against the couch, throat working, eyes squeezed shut. The security light caught the sheen of sweat on his upper lip.
I pressed my tongue flat and swallowed around him deep, deliberate.
His whole body jerked. A low, choked sound escaped before he slammed his hand over his own mouth.
I pulled off just enough to whisper against the slick skin. "Shh. You'll wake them."
He glared down at me, eyes glassy, chest heaving. Mouth formed the shape of "fuck you" but no sound came out.
I smirked. Went back down. Faster this time. Riskier. Let my throat relax and took him all the way until my nose brushed the soft hair at his base.
His hips punched up once, I couldn't help it and then froze. Hand clamped harder over his mouth. The other one fisted the cushion so tight I heard threads pop.
I didn't let up.
When he came it was almost silent just a sharp, held breath that broke into the smallest, thinnest whimper behind his palm. Hot pulses against my tongue. I swallowed everything. Didn't spill a drop. No evidence.
I pulled off slowly. Licked him clean. Tucked him back into his boxers with careful fingers. Zipped him up without a sound.
He was still breathing hard when I stood.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Leaned down so my lips brushed his ear.
"Your turn to keep watch while I sneak back upstairs."
He grabbed my wrist before I could pull away. Voice wrecked, barely audible.
"Tomorrow night. Your room. After they're asleep."
I grinned in the dark.
"Only if you say please first."
He let go. Shoved me lightly toward the stairs.
I went. Silent. Socks on carpet. Back up the same creaky-free path.
When I slipped into my room and locked the door behind me, my phone buzzed once.
One word.
Please.