Non-AU. 652 words.
She knows that it’s become an addiction for him, but it doesn’t stop her from frowning every time she sees him light a cancer stick, each time she catches the telltale scent of its smoke on his hair and clothes.
To his credit, he sneaks away to feed his addiction. There’ll be short periods of time when she won’t be able to locate him anywhere in their apartment. And even when they’re spending time outside and he needs his fix, he’ll stand a respectable distance away from the spot she temporarily makes herself comfortable on.
For some inexplicable reason, she’ll catch herself watching him even though his back is turned to her.
However, occasionally, she finds herself envying the stick that spends more time between his lips, robbing every intake of his breath and filling him with pleasure and adrenaline in a way she’ll never be able to. Really, what’s so gratifying about inhaling toxic substances and allowing them to poison his insides? She’ll never understand.
But she’s curious and impatient all at once, so she seeks her answer the next time they’re dog-walking at three in the morning. Despite the dogs being as docile as ever, she pretends to be immersed in Yeoreum and its well-being while he occupies the nearby bench. His long hours and fatigue unwittingly become her opening, and she quietly strikes, slipping onto the space beside him.
He’s engrossed in his thoughts, a faraway look on his face, while managing to mechanically bring the cigarette to his lips. Inhale, pause, and exhale. It’s the first time she’s ever seen him smoke and she allows herself to be momentarily captivated by the white stream that steadily escapes his lips.
How she handles her impatience while calculating her subsequent move, she doesn’t remember, but one moment she’s staring and the next, she’s latched her lips onto his immediately after his next drag. She almost loses her balance, though, and blindly presses a hand onto his thigh. He flinches, then tenses under her before she senses him attempting to tilt his head back – of course, he would be too gentlemanly to release the smoke directly into her face.
But, no, she’s not intending for him to choke on his nicotine and tar. In spite of the dangerous gamble, she tries to coax his dry lips to part, hoping he’ll clue himself in before the reins on her patience snap. Although his muscles stiffen further, she can feel the first few wisps against her mouth. Her other hand comes up to rest on his chest, fingers lightly stroking the familiar rhythm she once discovered he found calming.
Gradually, he relaxes and she advances, feeling him meld his mouth to hers in their usual, intimate way, and she shudders at the heat that penetrates her mouth, its bitter flavor stinging her tastebuds. It’s revolting but her mind forgets that in favor of the burn that lingers after she pulls away. He’s gaping at her, wide-eyed, and she can’t resist licking her upper lip at the thought of devouring him then and there.
She wrinkles her nose and knits her eyebrows when she swallows, the acrid tang traveling down to her stomach. He snaps out of his trance and fishes his mint gum out of his pocket, folding a stick in half and extending it to her as a peace offering. Why he somehow blames himself for the whole thing, she doesn’t understand but she huffs anyway as she leans down to snatch it up with her mouth.
Satisfied with the results, she climbs off the bench and retrieves their dogs, beginning their journey home. She knows he’s boring holes at her retreating back and it’s the perfect reason for her temper to poke its head out. If she’s lucky – and she is, she can feel it in her bones – he’ll turn the tables on her soon.
“Hurry up, Seunghyun-ah!”