I'll Pay You in Advance
I opened my eyes. The spot beside me was empty. The warmth on the sheet had long since faded. Ayoung must have gotten up pretty early.
As I shifted, my back ached. The thin mattress did nothing to cushion the hard floor beneath. It felt like my waist had been compressed all night.
...This bed is fucking uncomfortable. Ayoung sleeps on this every night? I need to get her home soon.
I threw on some pants and opened the door. The sound of chopping came from the kitchen. There she was, standing at the cutting board. Her hair was casually tied up, exposing the nape of her neck, and she wore a worn-out cotton T-shirt draped over her bare skin. The neckline had slipped off one shoulder.
Woochan's door was closed. It was quiet inside.
I slipped up behind Ayoung and wrapped my arms around her waist. The chopping stopped. She turned her head over her shoulder. There was still some puffiness around her eyes from last night, but her lips curved softly upward.
"Sleep well?"
"Why'd you get up so early?"
"In case you were hungry."
Her voice was low and quiet. Sunlight slanted through the narrow window over the sink, falling across her bare arm. There was already a used bowl in the sink, the rice grains not fully dried yet—she must have eaten already.
"What about Woochan?"
"He already left for school."
Ayoung's voice dipped for a moment. She said it casually, but the hand gripping the knife paused on the board before resuming. I scratched the back of my neck and yawned.
"That kid—I'd have given him a ride if he'd waited."
Ayoung set the knife down and turned to me. She wrapped both hands around my arms, stroking them gently.
"Ah... he's still awkward about it. Try to understand."
She was smiling, but there was a thin shadow under her eyes. It was so like her to still feel guilty toward her son. She turned back to the board and kept chopping. I crossed my arms and leaned against the table, watching her back.
"Hm. Looks like it's just us two."
Her hands slowed for a second. I pressed up behind her, grinding my crotch against her ass. The firm bounce came through her thin pants. Her ears flushed red. She set the knife down, shoulders hunching.
"...You'll be late for school."
I glanced at the clock—plenty of time. "Still wanna do it."
"B-but..."
Her words pushed me away, but her ass ground back harder, the pressure on my groin shifting. I hiked up her skirt, shoving it to her waist. No panties—just bare skin. I pulled out my cock and rubbed it between her cheeks. Sticky fluid started leaking out. Last night's cum was oozing from her.
I slid slowly along the crease, the thick texture coating my glans.
"When'd you wash up?"
"...Right after waking... haa..."
If it's still like this after washing, how much did I pump into her? I buried my nose in the nape of her neck. Between the tied-up strands of hair, soap scent rose from her exposed skin, mingled with her unique body odor. I inhaled deeply, and goosebumps prickled her flesh against my nose tip.
"Eut...!"
Her shoulders twitched, a short breath escaping. Her head dipped forward, baring more of her neck.
"Gonna put it in now."
"...Yeah."
I felt her nod through her back. I spread her pussy lips with my fingers. Last night's remnants stretched between them. I lined up and pushed in slowly.
Schlup. The sticky insides enveloped my cock. The sensation of sliding back into a space filled with my mark. Slick yet viscous resistance climbed my glans. Once buried to the hilt, her walls clenched tight around me.
I gripped her waist. Soft flesh yielded under my palms. I yanked her back and started thrusting.
Schlick, schlick, chap.
Ayoung's hands clutched the sink edge. She leaned forward to brace herself. Under her bowed head, the half-chopped green onions sat on the board.
"Haa... eut."
Her breaths grew ragged. With each thrust, her back shoved forward, only to be pulled back by my grip. I set my teeth on the bare skin of her shoulder, where the T-shirt had slipped off her collarbone—pristine flesh with no marks yet. I bit down, and her back tensed, breath catching. When I released, a red imprint bloomed. My mark.
Chap, chap, chap.
"G-good... hng... more..."
We were alone. No need to stifle it against the walls. The moans she'd bitten back last night now echoed through the cramped kitchen. Her voice bounced off the bowls on the sink.
Chap chap chap.
The rhythm quickened, her moans breaking into incoherent gasps spilling from her lips. Her arms trembled, knees buckling inward—I held her waist to steady her. Climax surged fast. I pulled her hard, slamming deep.
Plop. As my glans crushed her cervix, her back arched like a bow, hands slipping from the sink.
"Hnguuut... ah..."
Splurt. I unloaded. As the heat filled her, her pussy pulsed like a heartbeat. Her thighs quivered, body sagging against me.
"Aah..."
She shuddered through her peak. My bite mark stood vivid on her back, sweat trailing beside it.
I stayed buried inside, pausing until her contractions eased, then slowly withdrew.
Schlup, pop. Thick globs trailed from her pussy down her inner thighs, dripping to the floor—last night's load mixed with the fresh one.
Ayoung turned, panting, cheeks flushed with a happy smile. Stray hairs clung to her face, eyes misty, but blissful.
"Time for breakfast now."
I cleaned up roughly and sat at the table. Ayoung set out rice, soup, a few side dishes. Even as her hands moved quickly, she occasionally pressed her thighs together—probably feeling it leak.
As I started eating, she didn't sit across from me. Instead, she crawled under the table, kneeling between my legs and grasping my cock.
Slurp, schlick. Wet sounds rose as I shoveled rice into my mouth. Her tongue wound slowly around the shaft, cleaning the remnants. Suction pulled stronger each time her cheeks hollowed.
"Aren't you eating, babe?"
She looked up, cock still in her mouth. Her lips parted from the glans, saliva threading down.
"You... filled me up so good..."
Even saying that, her hands and mouth didn't stop. Keeping me hard from the morning.
With Ayoung seeing me off, I made it to school just in time. I headed to Woochan's classroom. A few clusters of kids milled in the pre-class hallway, but I ignored them.
I opened the door. Woochan sat alone inside. I tapped the back of the guy in the front seat.
"Move."
He started to protest but shut up when he saw my face. He grabbed his stuff and slunk away. I spun the chair and straddled it facing Woochan.
"Uh... hey."
Not what I expected. His face from last night—sniffling with a stuffy nose—was clear now. Sharp energy gleamed in his eyes under the faded puffiness as he met my gaze.
"Something good happen?"
"Nah, not that... but..."
Woochan hesitated, then smiled faintly, scratching his neck awkwardly.
"Mom's happy now. So as long as I do well... that's enough."
His pen-twiddling hand stilled on the blank notebook.
"...But I've never seen her cry like that."
His voice dipped. The smile lingered only at his lips, the rest faded.
"Please. Now I just gotta do good..."
His eyes stayed on the notebook. Was he seeing the blank page or last night? He wasn't asking me for anything—just venting.
The classroom fell quiet. Woochan looked up, sniffed once, and smiled again. Less forced than before.
Last night he'd just collapsed at the entrance, chugging canned beer and clinging. I wanted to smack him. But he'd pulled himself together in a day. Guess he got it from Ayoung's blood—raising him alone after being abandoned by family. His wistful smile was too much like hers. It made me uncomfortable.
"Uh... anyway."
Woochan fidgeted, setting down his pen and twisting his fingers on his knee. He looked up, met my eyes, then dropped his gaze.
"Wh-what should I call you?"
"What?"
"L-like... Dad?"
My jaw dropped. This kid, seriously. I was about to burst out laughing at the absurdity, but instead smacked the back of his head.
Thwack.
"Aak!"
He clutched the spot, whimpering and curling up in his chair.
"Cut it out, kid."
I shook my head and draped my arm over his desk.
"Anyway, help me with something."
I opened the door to the cram class room. A stranger stood at the podium—not Jinhee.
"Where's Teacher Jinhee?"
"She's sick today, so I'm subbing."
"Got it."
I turned to leave without a word.
"Where you going?"
I ignored the voice behind me and walked out. No Jinhee, no point in class.
I went down to the parking lot, pulled out my car, stopped at a porridge shop for a bowl to go, then drove to Jinhee's studio apartment. I rode the elevator up and rang the bell.
The door cracked open slightly. Chain still on—Jinhee's face appeared in the gap. Pale, dark circles under her eyes, cracked lips. Face of someone who hadn't slept a wink.
Probably because of what I said. Looked like she'd pulled an all-nighter digging into her sister's traces.
"Can I come in?"
"Too tired. No."
Her voice was hoarse, lacking its usual edge.
"Not here to fuck."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You?"
I held up the plastic bag. The porridge container shifted inside. She reached through the chain, took it, and tried to close the door.
As the gap narrowed, I wedged my shoulder in.
"What? Take it and ghost?"
"Haa... I'm really tired."
Her sigh dragged on—no energy even to fight.
"Fine. I'll just watch you eat, then go."
Jinhee looked up at me. The shadows under her eyes seemed deeper. Finally, she unhooked the chain and opened the door.
I stepped inside. Still a bare studio: desk, bed. Papers strewn messily on the desk—signs of her all-nighter. Bedcovers bunched to one side, but no impression of lying down.
My gaze returned to Jinhee. The woman who always dressed impeccably—blouse, skirt suit, stockings—was in a loose T-shirt and short shorts. The shirt slipped off her shoulder, exposing her collarbone; her bare legs stretched out below the shorts. Her slim waist stood out sharper under the baggy fabric.
My cock twitched.
"Ooh, looking sexy."
Jinhee just sighed and pulled out a chair at the table. She set down the porridge, opened the lid, but didn't pick up the spoon. Just stared blankly at the steam.
I sat across from her.
"Didn't sleep?"
"...Your fault."
"Guess I am pretty good at sex."
"...Not that!"
She snapped her head up, but her voice lacked bite. Normally she'd point accusingly—no such energy now.
"I know. It's about your sister, right?"
Her eyes glared. She bit her lip, released. Silence was her answer.
I pulled out the document envelope from the car and set it on the table. Hospital records I'd barely obtained. Her gaze shifted from my face to the envelope. A spark lit in her fatigued eyes.
Her hand trembled faintly as she grabbed it and pulled out the papers.
"This is a prepayment."
Her face twisted in anger and humiliation as she glared up at me. But she didn't set the papers down. Her eyes were already glued to the first line, scanning down.
