Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jeonghan knows very well that Wonwoo comes from money. That she doesn’t do this to make a living, or even to maintain it, but for the fun of the game.

Whatever fun it is, scrubbing the blood from her skin can be.

She opens the door to the penthouse in a silk robe, a dark eggplant purple to match her latest hair color. Jeonghan blatantly stares, raising an eyebrow at the glass of wine in her hand.

“Was Minghao here earlier?”

Wonwoo winces. There’s a slight crinkle between her brows when she does and she lowers the glass slightly as she steps back, holding the door further open. “That obvious, huh?”

Anyone in the hallway could see them. Jeonghan, dripping red from the black trench coat pulled over her shoulders. Wonwoo, in nothing but a silk robe and two gold necklaces.

Jeonghan sighs, hooking her middle finger around her tie and tugging at it to loosen it as she walks through. Wonwoo lets the door close behind her, though she makes no move to step back when Jeonghan stalks closer. “Only if they were looking.”

“And you are?”

It’s the kind of question Jeonghan would ask. Self assured to hide the insecurity that she isn’t wanted there, bratty to mask the genuine curiosity to know. She tosses her tie on the floor, slipping the top three buttons of her shirt off. It’s a size too small—she and Minghao might be their smaller and stealthier agents, but no one is more petite than Xu Minghao.

“It’s my job to look,” Jeonghan mutters, dropping her hands to her pockets. Wonwoo’s gaze drops past her neckline, to the top of her sports bra peeking out. She tugs her shirt back up. “You’re both getting sloppy.”

“Or you’re just too good at your job,” Wonwoo murmurs, setting the glass down on the counter. “Jeonghannie, when was the last time you took a break?”

She crosses her arms, scowling. “You and I both know I can’t afford to. Not now.”

Wonwoo sighs, shaking her head. She’s silent for long enough that Jeonghan takes a step back, ready to leave. If Wonwoo doesn’t want her here, then she doesn’t need to stay. There’s plenty of other showers in the city, ones that don’t have quite the same view but will get the job done.

Wonwoo steps forward until she’s toe to toe with Jeonghan, bare feet to Jeonghan’s work boots. They’re the same height with the added heels and Jeonghan hates it.

“You’re getting blood all over the floor.” She slides her finger under the shoulder of Jeonghan’s coat, pushing it off. It falls to the floor in a quiet pile, likely staining the floor.

Jeonghan shudders, swaying on her feet. “It’s on my boots, wait—let me take them off.”

She steps back to crouch down and unlace them but Wonwoo drops to her knees first, robe parting at her hips. She slowly unlaces Jeonghan’s boots, peeling them off her feet while she hops around one foot. “You don’t have to.”

Wonwoo looks up at her. “You know I wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want to. Did you not want me to?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jeonghan mumbles, cheeks flushing. She wonders if Wonwoo can see it, if they’re as red hot as she feels them to be.

Wonwoo caresses her legs, trailing back up her hips, then her waist, then her chest up to her shoulders. “Let me take care of you, Jeonghannie.”

She fails to hide the shudder that goes through her at hearing those words. Wonwoo’s voice echoes in the space between her myocardium and her lungs, nestled just under her heart. The traitorous organ beats double time, and the quivers of excitement follow suit. “Wonwoo-yah.”

“Unnie.”

Wonwoo never calls her that. It’s not for a lack of respect, Wonwoo’s probably her most respectful dongsaeng, all things considered, but she’s never cared for the age hierarchy. Something about Seungcheol taking care of the team, Jeonghan taking care of Seungcheol, and Wonwoo taking care of Jeonghan.

It wasn’t about sex, not until Wonwoo mentioned how it might help with how wound up Jeonghan is all the time. Uptight, she’d called her. Jeonghan had called her a liar back, and let her eat her out. It had been hot, and fun, but it didn’t do much for her. Not in the way of the stress. Not the way it did for Wonwoo.

But this? The part where Wonwoo lets takes over and lets her give up some of that hard-won control? It does something for her stress alright.

“Fine,” she relents, peeling off her socks and ditching them in the doorway. She offers Wonwoo her sweetest smile. “Do your worst, Wonungie.”

***

The water runs just on the edge of too hot, stinging against the micro-cuts along her palms. She leans her head back against Wonwoo’s shoulder, eyes closed as the showerhead rains down on them.

It’s the fancy kind, hanging down from the ceiling and soaking them both without leaving one hanging and cold. Like standing in the summer rain, with a view of the city skyline around them through the floor to ceiling one-way glass windows.

Wonwoo runs her hands up and down her sides before settling on her hips, fingers pressed against the divots of her hip bones.

Jeonghan whines in protest when she stops. “Felt good, why’d you stop?”

“You look pretty,” Wonwoo mumbles, uncharacteristically shy.

Jeonghan laughs, opening her eyes when Wonwoo stays silent. She turns around in her hold, blinking the shower water from her eyes. “Yah, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo just smiles helplessly, bringing her arms to cross over her chest. It only serves to draw Jeonghan’s attention, the way it emphasizes her curves and pushes her breasts together. She flushes when Jeonghan’s gaze drops, gaze fixed on the skyline behind her instead. “Just. I don’t want you to think it’s about sex all the time.”

“I don’t even like sex,” Jeonghan points out, well aware that she’s slipped her hands under Wonwoo’s arms, pushing them down so she can run her fingers over that perfect body. “You know that.”

Wonwoo still fidgets, shy as ever. Jeonghan presses a chaste kiss to her lips, curling her fingers around Wonwoo’s gold necklace and tugging. The chain twists, tightening ever so slightly. Wonwoo’s breath hitches—Jeonghan isn’t the only one happy to relinquish control.

“Still,” Wonwoo insists, gaze darting from the skyline to Jeonghan’s shoulder. “This isn’t—it’s not work to me.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, squeezing her chest once more and giggling when she squeaks before dropping her hands to her waist. Barefoot in the shower, Wonwoo’s taller than her. Jeonghan pulls her closer, walking backwards until she’s pressed against the glass with nothing but the city behind her.

If the glass were to shatter, they’d both fall. That’s how it’s always been, in their line of work. She’s been living this fast life for so long, running from one hit to another and then away from it all. Up here, up high enough to feel the wind against her back when it passes by the penthouse, she knows it’s not work. It never was.

“Wonu-yah,” she murmurs, against the corner of Wonwoo’s lips. “You’re my sweet escape.”