Chapter one: Yoosung

"I told you to melt the butter before you added it to the mix," you scolded with a slight frown, scooping up the goopy remnants of batter and brandishing the spatula like a sword.

Yoosung ducked away from your improvised weaponry, flour had already been dashed across his nose and icing had somehow ended up along his collarbone. For hours the two of you worked away in the kitchen, the gently falling snow a picturesque landscape to your escapades. This was your first Christmas away from your family, but it was also a huge stepping stone in your relationship with Yoosung- for you were with his. About a month prior Mrs. Kim had invited you over for the holidays, basically insisting upon your presences before Yoosung could get a word in edgewise. Not that you minded, Yoosung was your boyfriend and to be asked to spend time at his family home was a wonderful opportunity. Mr and Mrs. Kim had gone out for the afternoon so it'd been Yoosung's idea to do some holiday baking as a surprise. He was the one who pulled out all the cooking books and who gathered all the ingredients he could muster from the cupboard, and it was now him who'd ruined the batter beyond repair.

Shrugging sheepishly, Yoosung gazed down at the gluey substance and scooped up a smidgen on his forefinger, bringing it to his mouth. You watched as he inserted the digit into his mouth and sampled the goopy sauce. For a moment he pondered the taste but then his eyes lit up, amethyst eyes glowing.

"It's delicious! Are you sure we can't still use it? Here try some?" Once again he dunked the finger he'd just tasted into the mixing bowl but this time raised it to your mouth, eyes glimmering eagerly.

Instantaneously, you felt your face heat at the innocent gesture, averting your gaze from him. You knew you were being foolish, you'd done much more than share insignificant indirect kisses, yet your face still burned.

"What? You think it'll be that bad?" Yoosung huffed with a small pout, slightly withdrawing his extended finger.

"N-No!" You exclaimed, "I do want to taste it." Grabbing his hand you brought it to your lips, just then you got a devilish idea.

Taking a half a step forward you were now hovering inches apart, his own eyes widening in surprise. "I want to taste it." You hummed, your breath fanning across his knuckles.

Before you Yoosung shivered, still frozen in place. With trembling hands you guided his covered finger across your bottom lip, dabbing it with batter. You didn't stop there, instead you traced the entirety of your lower lip with his finger, tongue peeking out to swipe at the sweet tincture. As you did this your tongue none too subtly found the tip of Yoosung's finger, giving it a quick lick. The reaction was immediate, with blown pupils and an increasingly reddening complexion, Yoosung dunked his other hand into the mixture, tilting the bowl on it's side, batter oozing onto the counter and down the cupboards.

This mystified you, he enjoyed your simple action so much? Finishing off the one finger he swiftly offered you his other hand, eyes dark and gaze fiery. Emblazoned by this out of character moment you continued your earlier task, starting with his thumb. First you licked off his fingernail, nibbling on the fleshy tip, Yoosung twitched.

"It does taste good," you whispered, tongue gliding down between thumb and pointer finger. "Shame we can't use it for the cake . . ."

"C-could we use it for something else maybe?" Yoosung piped up, voice uncharacteristically squeaky and pitched.

Not wanting him to know you were thinking along the same lines, you cocked your head innocently, "like what?"

The muscles along Yoosung's shoulders and within his neck throbbed, tension coursing through his body, he looked unloosed, he was fighting a foreign resolve as you pondered how far you could take this.

"First things first, your hand needs tending to . . . you're such a messy boy, Yoosung." You chided, ignoring the own hint of rasp in your tone.

Resuming your previous task you restarted on his middle finger, taking the whole digit in your mouth. It felt odd, his sole finger in your mouth but you were determined to unhinge any inch of sanity your boyfriend had left- which by the looks of it was very little. Your lips started from the base of his finger then ghosted down to the tip, repeating this action several times before you were satisfied with it's cleanliness. Releasing his finger with a satisfying pop, you noticed gleefully that his spare hand was clutching onto the counters edge to maintain his balance- a good sign indeed.

"Only two more to go," you hummed, nicking the pulsepoint at his wrist with your bottom teeth.

The thundering of each of your heartbeats almost echoed off the tiled walls, each in a off beat crescendo as everything around faded into insignificance. You repeated similar actions with Yoosung's ring finger, but this time you stroked down the sides more so, tongue running small circles into the salty meat of his palm. A shaky breath, a heated puff of air gracing the crown of your hair. How much further could you take this? Even now, as a familiar burn inflamed your bones you were entirely tempted to cease this teasing charade and tackle him to the hardwood. Completing his ring finger you only had one conquest left . . . the pinky. Slower this time you worked methodically, suppressing the ache curling within your stomach. To the rhythm of his rising and falling chest you start with calculated licks- beginning with the underside of the finger. As the flecks of batter vanish you realize you don't want this delicious torture to end, even here, in his parent's kitchen, he makes your blood boil and it's terrifying how much sway he has over your self control. All too quickly your tongue has finished the deed and you retract slowly, his hand still in yours.

Numbly, he looks down at you, his chest still faltering and his cheeks match the red of his sweater. For a prolonged moment neither one of you move, his hand is sticky within your own, fingers now laced together. Within his eyes something still lurks, it reeks of promise and your heart jumps eagerly, able to taste it's desperation in your mouth.

"So . . . should we throw it out then?" You exhale, watching as his eyes shift between you and the spilt bowl.

The tension between you is thick, both cemented in place as each of your eyes rake one another up and down, then up again. You're waiting for Yoosung to move, to set the boundaries of what he was willing to do in his parents kitchen, midday, two days before Christmas. If the choice were yours you'd be tugging his adorable jumper over his head and having your way with him- parents home or no. Alas you weren't sure if he wanted the same thing.

"I guess I'll throw it away then," you said, hoping the light threat would force him into action.

Luckily it did and he moved to block your reaching arm, scooping up a large amount of batter with his fingers. Before you had a chance to question the covered fingers painted your face from one side of your mouth to another- Yoosung's own lips following in hungry tow. Hands clamping around your forearm he crushed you against him, greedily lapping at the seam of your lips to collect the smeared batter. He kissed you relentlessly and you couldn't help but whimper into his mouth, as his tongue darted along your lower lip. Against your chest his heart leapt in unison, your hands needing an anchor and finding one in his bleached locks. Heady breath paired with the sweet batter, it made your head spin and you clung to Yoosung for support. Gladly he accepted your weight, using it as leverage to deepen the kiss. Sighing into his blistering mouth, your eyes fluttered open and what you saw over Yoosung's shoulder made your heart drop to your knees.

In the kitchen doorway, jaws unhinged and grocery bags hanging limply off their sagging arms- Yoosung's parents stood flabbergasted. Instinctively, you withdrew from Yoosung, a groan of protest arose from his throat but was ceased as you steered him around. His reaction was just as comical, his entire face first paling then coming to a boiling point, ears streaked crimson.

"M-m-mom! D-dad!" He stammered, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, as if in doing so they'd forget the passionate kiss they'd just witnessed.

Your own face burned, as you hovered beside Yoosung unsure what to do or say in such a mortifying situation. Eventually Mrs. Kim's eyes drifted from the two of you and found the mess staining her counter- her look of shock morphing into one of scorn.

"I expect that the two of you are going to be cleaning this up." She said flatly, hands resting on her hips authoritively.

Both you and Yoosung bowed curtly, speaking at once. "O-of course!"

A knowing smile, "good, then your father and I will be going we forgot something at the store." She explained collecting her purse.

"We did?" Mr. Kim asked, looking confused.

"Yes we did." Mrs. Kim said forcibly, grabbing his sleeve, "now let's go before the store closes."

You watched as she towed him out of the kitchen and down the hall, the front door clicking behind them.

A pause, then Yoosung looked down at you, grinning boyishly. "So . . . wanna continue this upstairs?"

"Do I ever."

So any good? lemme know

3 Suicidal