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The PD comes up with the idea, enthusiastically encouraged by Oh Jinjoo. It’s the last week of September, both associate judges are having lunch at their usual noodle place near the court when their show PD walks in. He’s alone, so they invite him to sit with them and, ten minutes later, he and Jinjoo are engrossed in a chat about their favourite shows while Gaon wolfs down his massive bowl of jjamppong and pretends to pay attention. Then, as they move on to horror films, the man gasps, “Oh, we should have a Halloween party!”
“Yes!” Judge Oh practically squeals with delight. “A costume party.”
“My brother-in-law has a restaurant,” the PD says, obviously warming to the idea. “I will ask if we could rent it for the night. Maybe he can even make some themed refreshments.”
“That would be amazing. I can take care of the decorations, one of my friend’s an interior designer and she’s been posting some ideas,” Jinjoo proposes, taking her phone out and showing them some posts. Then she turns to Gaon, “Doesn’t it sound great?”
“Well—” Gaon falters, not really wanting to encourage them but also not wanting to burst their bubble.
Jinjoo chuckles. “Judge Kim doesn’t like parties,” she explains. The PD’s face falls like she’s just told him Gaon has an incurable disease.
“Not all parties,” Gaon feels the need to defend himself.
“He doesn’t like luxury parties, galas,” she elaborates and her tone of voice makes it clear she thinks Gaon is crazy. The producer lets out a little sigh that says he completely agrees with her.
“Oh, but ours will be a private party,” he says, face brightening again, “petite comité. Yes! Completely exclusive, only Live Court Show people.”
And then they go back to their planning while Gaon goes back to his cooling plate.
He forgets about the whole thing until four days later, when the PD brings it up in front of the Chief. They just finished the first hearing of their newest case, the three of them are already out of their judicial robes and the crew is almost done putting all the equipment away.
It’s just the four of them in Gaon and Jinjoo’s office, wrapping the day up when, before leaving, the producer asks, “You’re coming to the party, right, Chief Kang?”
“Oh, I haven’t told him!” Jinjoo exclaims before Yohan has a chance to respond.
The Chief throws a quick inquisitive look in Gaon’s direction and he just shrugs; he really forgot about it and Jinjoo hadn’t brought it up again.
“We’re throwing a proper Halloween party, fully western,” the PD explains. “Just the Live Court Show team.”
Judge Oh nods. “Just us, no execs or Foundation people. No press. No one outside the department.”
“Are you sure you want the boss around?” Yohan demurs, “You’ll be more comfortable without me.”
“Chief, no!” Jinjoo cries out just as the PD says, “Sir, you are the Live Court Show! Of course you have to come.”
“Alright,” Yohan concedes, in that half-bashful, half-smug way of his. “It’ll be an honour.”
🕸 🕸 🕸
Two nights later, as they’re naked in bed, about to go to sleep, Yohan says “Do I really have to go to your Halloween party?”
“It’s definitely not my party,” Gaon points out. “And you already said you would.”
Yohan lets out a little annoyed huff. The gesture is so unguarded and childish that Gaon can’t help shifting closer and plastering himself against his lover’s side.
“Do I have to wear a costume?” Yohan asks next, still pouting at the ceiling.
“Is this your first costume party?” He squeezes Yohan’s side. Gaon’s painfully aware that most normal childhood staples are completely foreign to his partner. He tilts his head to kiss the closest patch of skin available. “Or are masquerades really as popular among the rich as the romance books claim?”
“You’ve been reading a lot of those?” Yohan huffs again, now amused. “I thought parties were something that only happened in books well into my teens. Wearing a costume seemed nothing short of fantastical. I didn’t attend my first party until I was in university.”
“It could be fun,” Gaon reassures him, “But you don’t have to dress-up if you don’t want to.”
After that, every time he asks about the party, Yohan tells him he’s still thinking about it, so Gaon doesn’t push it.
When it comes to his own costume, Gaon goes to Elijah for ideas. After an intense round of brainstorming, he lands on something that seems easy and also makes his stomach twist with a stab of longing and a bit of regret.
“Can I be a biker?” He asks timidly after Elijah suggests a vampire for the third time. As a teen, sad and rebellious and dirt poor, he often fantasized about having enough money to get a big, expensive bike, and the outfit to go with it. But then he became a serious lawyer, and then a serious judge and he let go of that fantasy.
“Yes!” Elijah exclaims, “like in Lost Boys.”
Gaon vaguely remembers watching that film with Soohyun, ages ago. He scowls, “I don’t want to be a vampire.”
“Just the vibe.” Elijah waves her hand dismissively. “You need to make it spooky.”
She convinces him of splurging on a good leather jacket and the rest are things he already has: black jeans and a tattered t-shirt, both fitting a little tight, and his old pair of combat boots. Elijah attaches a few chains to his jeans and the jacket and makes him wear some of her bracelets; she asks if the piercing in his ear is still open and when he confesses it is, she convinces him to wear a long, drop earring with a red crystal teardrop dangling at the end.
She styles his hair, all messy and out of his face, and then pretty much emotionally blackmails him into applying black eyeliner, to make it spooky, please, for me?
He calls Yohan, before leaving. “Hey, my cab is almost here.”
Being a Friday and the end of the month, the Chief had let Gaon and Jinjoo leave early to prepare for the party.
“I still have one last meeting,” Yohan says at the other end of the line.
“Well, if you can’t make it, shoot me a message. I think I’ll stay at my place if—”
“No need, I’ll be there.” Yohan assures him.
Gaon’s stomach does a happy flip. “Alright then.”
🕸 🕸 🕸
Gaon had agreed to help Jinjoo and the PD set things up, so there’s no one else when he gets there, but once people start arriving, he’s happy to notice there’s really only members of their department: camera guys and the make-up ladies, the bailiffs, a couple of secretaries, and their baby-faced paralegals. The only “outsider” present is Jung Inseok, Gaon’s replacement after the bombing —when Gaon asks, Jinjoo shrugs “I felt bad he only got to enjoy the ride for a few weeks.” He’s wearing a classic vampire outfit, plastic fangs and all.
Gaon has to admit it’s a nice enough party. The place is cosy, the food is actually good and everyone seems relaxed and approachable. There are no cameras except for people taking selfies with their friends. Also, there’s no deranged rich people cackling like rabid hyenas. The costumes go from the elaborate —unsurprisingly, the costuming and make-up people look like they stepped out of a movie set— to the lazy and silly. Astronauts, zombies, pirates, witches, and something Gaon’s pretty sure it’s a fursuit.
Oh Jinjoo is looking very pretty in what she calls a “retro outfit, you know, Madonna in the 80’s.” It involves a puffy tulle skirt, a bright neon fishnet top and dozens of bracelets and necklaces. The front of her hair’s been teased within an inch of its life.
Gaon mostly sticks to her side as she goes around the room talking to everyone, an almost silent counterpoint to her happy chatter. Every few minutes, he checks his phone to see if the Chief has sent a message to let him know he’s on his way.
They’ve stopped by the refreshments table to drink some cool water, about an hour into the official start of the party, when Jinjoo jolts beside him.
“Woah” she chuckles breathlessly, her eyes going wide at something across the room.
“What?” Gaon asks as he turns around, barely hearing her excited murmur of It’s the Chief when he catches sight of Kang Yohan.
Gaon’s jaw closes shut with a loud, almost painful click. And he’s honestly glad because the way his mouth has just watered is almost Pavlovian. Desire slams into him like a sucker punch.
A cowboy. Kang Yohan just walked into the party dressed as a cowboy: black suede jacket over a worn grey shirt, a bandana around his neck, black denim trousers with a shiny belt buckle, and riding chaps, also suede. He’s wearing a holster, low on his hips, carrying what looks like an expensive replica of a revolver. And crowning it all, a black hat pushed back on his head, his soft hair swept to one side over his forehead.
Gaon masks his sudden arousal with fake surprise and coughs into his glass like he took a wrong gulp of water. “Well, I didn’t actually think he’d wear a costume,” he says, his voice a little too breathless.
“I know,” Jinjoo murmurs beside him. She sounds almost dazed.
Nearly every head has turned to stare at the Chief, some people actually slack-jawed. Yohan is making his way across the restaurant, eyes darting around at the people around him, smiling at them and seemingly examining their costumes with polite curiosity, but Gaon can tell he’s scanning their faces to find him. Him. Gaon has the urge to snap at the crowd He’s mine, don’t stare at him.
The moment he catches sight of Gaon his posture relaxes, probably not noticeable for the people gawking at him, but to Gaon it’s like a fireworks display. He notices the moment his lover’s eyes take in his costume, widening a fraction, before his face shutters back to casual bonhomie.
Yohan approaches them with a smile and— Oh, his cowboy boots have actual spurs, they jingle faintly with every step he takes.
Gaon has to concentrate all of his will on not dropping down to his knees to start mouthing the front of Yohan’s jeans like a dog. But he might do it later, when they’re alone.
Up close, his clothes look actually worn and genuine. The getup doesn’t look flashy or cartoonish because they’re real garments. Gaon wouldn’t be surprised if they used to belong to an actual cowboy. Of course, Kang Yohan wouldn’t show up to a dress-up party in a sloppy costume. Oh, if he’d seen this before they wouldn’t have left the house at all.
“Chief, you look amazing!” Jinjoo gasps with a wide smile.
“It’s a nice costume,” Gaon says dumbly because what he really wants to say would shock their colleagues and probably get him banned for life from any public post.
Yohan throws him a knowing smile before turning his attention to Jinjoo.
“Judge Oh, you look absolutely charming.” Yohan praises her in turn. “I know this will date me, but I certainly remember this style from my childhood.”
Jinjoo laughs, enchanted, and Gaon tunes them out as he stares at his lover with what he hopes is not a completely besotted expression.
In a poor effort to control his libido, Gaon decides to keep his distance. Normally, he feels like a compass needle, somehow always looking for Yohan’s north, but tonight the pull feels gravitational; he can’t give in to it. These jeans are too tight to walk around with a half hard-on all night.
Instead, he talks to people. He tries to get to know his replacement —he doesn’t get very far before he feels the urge to shake the clueless man by the shoulders— and then ends up talking shop with their tiny paralegals, who turn out to be far funnier and more starry-eyed than they seem at the office. As usual, Yohan gets swept away by a throng of people that want to greet him and talk to him. He knows his Chief is an old hand at social gatherings, but unlike his usual demeanour at the Foundation’s galas, in the few glimpses Gaon dares to take in his direction, there’s something tentative about him, but he looks mostly comfortable.
It's a long while before they find themselves standing side by side in a little corner close to a window. Yohan has removed the jacket, the hat hanging down his back by the strap around his neck. The black yoke of the shirt frames his broad shoulders and the mess of leather around his hips makes his waist ridiculously narrow. Gaon feels his mouth water again; he wants to lick every inch this man’s skin.
“I honestly thought you would show up in a three-piece suit,” he says, toying with his can of soda to distract himself from his filthier thoughts.
“Kim Gaon, you have so little faith in me?” Yohan says with mock hurt. Then his eyebrows pinch a little as he looks around the room. “Though I seem to have misunderstood that there was a western theme.”
Gaon blinks and— Ah, yes. The PD had said “fully western.” And Yohan thought he meant an Old West theme, not just a western-style party. Gaon wants to tease him about it but he can tell the thread of insecurity in his voice, and knows he’s hearing it because Yohan is showing it to him. This man can manipulate politicians and bend the highest echelons of the country’s power to his whim, but when it comes to being human, to interacting with his peers, he’s still that boy always braced for rejection.
And it’s such a simple, silly misunderstanding, so far below the great Kang Yohan, that it makes Gaon want to kiss his face a thousand times.
“You look perfect.” He reassures him, leaning closer, carefully. The nook they’re in is a bit out of the way, but not private by far. He lowers his voice. “You don’t know how hard I’m struggling to keep my hands off you.”
“What’s stopping you, Gaon-ah?” Yohan asks, voice velvety and deceitfully innocent.
Gaon huffs. “The fact that half the room is also struggling to keep their eyes off of you.” He rolls his eyes as his chief visibly preens. “Where the hell did you get these clothes? They look authentic.”
“They probably are,” Yohan says musingly, looking down at himself. “Turns out my tailor is particularly enthusiastic about vintage clothing of all cultures. You should have seen his face light up when I asked if he could assist me with my ensemble. But Elijah was the one who approved the idea.”
“Elijah?” Gaon gapes. “That little traitor, when I asked if she knew what you were wearing, she said you were too boring to dress up.”
Yohan hums. “If it’s any consolation, she also refused to tell me anything about your choice, though I can see it’s barely a costume.”
Then he gives Gaon a slow, sultry once-over and Gaon can finally see his own desire reflected in his dark eyes.
“Maybe we should head home,” the Chief suggests.
Gaon nods readily. “Please.”
“But it’s still early!” Oh Jinjoo pouts when Yohan announces his departure. “It’s barely half past ten.”
“You’ll all be merrier without the boss around.” The chief offers an apologetic smile. Then he leans in conspiringly. “I have a teenager at home, If I don’t get back soon, I may find it upside down.”
“Ah, yes, right!” Jinjoo nods. She’s the only one at the office who knows about Elijah.
Then Gaon waves at her with his own rueful smile. “Chief’s giving me a ride.”
His colleague just smiles at him sympathetically. “Have you suffered a lot, Gaonie?”
“I had fun,” he chuckles.
After making sure she also has a ride home and bidding the PD farewell, they make their way out.
🕸 🕸 🕸
The restaurant has its own parking lot, gated and only half full, even with the party. The Chief’s brought one of his slick sedans instead of the SUV; it’s parked to one side of the building, away from any windows. As they approach the car, Gaon throws a quick look around to make sure there’s no one else outside.
Yohan opens the passenger door, but instead of getting in, he tosses the hat inside and closes it again. He turns to Gaon. “Back seat.”
Gaon doesn’t need to be told twice. He gets in and then pounces on Yohan the moment the doors close. They kiss long and messy and almost frantic, clutching their jackets to pull each other impossibly closer. But Gaon wants more, he wants to touch, wants to feel. He wants to unwrap Yohan like a gift but he also wants to fuck him in these clothes. He wants to make him come. So, he pushes his chief’s legs open and kneels between them taking advantage of the fact that, unlike the Escalade, this car’s backseat is huge.
He takes a moment to nuzzle the front of Yohan’s trousers, rubbing his nose into the fabric and pressing open-mouthed kisses against the heat he can feel underneath. “I’ve been thinking about doing this all night.”
He undoes the ridiculous buckle and opens Yohan’s jeans with trembling hands. His lover tries to unclasp the holster but Gaon swats his fingers away. “Leave them,” he almost growls.
The mess of leather and buckles on his lover’s waist make it almost an impossible task, but once he’s managed to extricate Yohan’s hard cock from his underwear, he wastes no time licking the head, moaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth. It probably is, by far.
“Is it the holster, the chaps or the whole outfit?” Yohan asks, voice light and amused, but his eyes are dark as pits and his fingers close in Gaon’s hair.
“It’s your goddamned hips,” Gaon mutters. He’s so turned on he’s angry.
He starts blowing Yohan in earnest, taking him as deep as he can, eager and sloppy, saliva running down his chin and soaking his underwear. He barely gives himself the time to relish the feel of Yohan’s cock in his mouth, warm and heavy. As usual, the other man is mostly quiet except for his heavy breathing and low pants of his name, but his fingers are still buried in Gaon’s hair and his knees are squeezing him like a vice. Gaon almost wishes Yohan would dig the spurs into his sides. Fuck, he feels crazy.
“Gaon-ah,” Yohan groans at last, a breathless gasp, and Gaon pulls back only enough to suck on the head just as his lover comes, flooding his mouth. Gaon swallows like he’s parched and keeps licking him until Yohan pulls him back with a tug on his hair.
Then he’s manhandled up to straddle his partner’s lap, his softening cock between them as Yohan kisses him like he’s the one starving for it. It always drives Gaon wild, how Yohan’s possessiveness extends to this, to chasing his own taste in Gaon’s mouth, relishing the fact that it’s his seed on his lover’s tongue.
“I really like your earring”, he says when he lets Gaon come up for air, giving the piece of jewellery a little tug before leaning in to drop a string of kisses down the side of his neck.
“I used to wear a small hoop,” he babbles as he tilts his head and leans into the touch. Fuck, his voice sounds ruined and his throat aches pleasantly when he speaks.
“I want to fuck you,” Yohan says like he didn’t just come down Gaon’s throat; he’s grabbing his ass like he wants to split him open. Gaon’s hips buck helplessly because, fuck, he really wants it too; like this, he could ride Yohan’s cock deep and slow, the gun digging into his inner thigh, his own chains jingling with every thrust. Just thinking about it sends a jolt of pleasure straight down his spine.
But he shakes his head. “Not here.”
“We’ve fucked in the car before.” Yohan says, like that’s the issue here.
Gaon moans, but shakes his head again. “Not in a very public parking lot right outside a bar full of our coworkers.” He grabs his lover’s head and gives him another short, open-mouthed kiss. “Just— just get me off.”
Yohan’s hands tighten on his ass and then he’s flipping Gaon against the seat, going to his knees in the same movement. He shoves his own dick back in his pants before undoing Gaon’s zipper and tugging his jeans just enough to take his cock out.
He gives it a lazy stroke before leaning in to put his mouth around it, when Gaon stops him.
“Wait!” He exclaims, startling himself. He just— he wants to come right now, but he also wants it to last more than five seconds. “Just a moment.”
Yohan looks at him, something almost amused in his expression, but leans back. Then he reaches behind himself to unclasp the spurs off his boots and sits back on his haunches.
“You don’t need to last, love,” he says softly as he rests his head on Gaon’s knee. “The sooner you come, the sooner I can take you home and fuck you properly.”
Gaon chuckles breathlessly. “We’re feeling single-minded, aren’t we?”
“It’s hardly my fault. You look good enough to eat, Gaon-ah,” he says, giving his dripping cock a pointed look and caressing his thigh with his thumb, which is not helping at all. “Do you miss your bike?” He asks just as softly, and Gaon can’t help the moan that escapes him. “I’ll get you a bike, sweetheart. Something big and powerful like you deserve.”
“Would you ride with me?” Gaon asks. Yohan hums and nods against his knee. He imagines them both on a bike, riding through the night, fast and sharp like lightning. “I want you riding pillion, clinging to me. I want to feel your hard cock against my ass as I drive us home.”
Before he can even react, Yohan surges up and swallows Gaon’s cock without warning. He jolts so hard he’s sure the whole car rocks, and can only grip Yohan’s hair as his lover sucks him deep and fast, like his life depends on Gaon coming.
And Gaon was clearly fooling himself about the benefits of waiting, because it’s not even thirty seconds before he’s spilling into Yohan’s eager mouth.
His orgasm leaves him pliant and dizzy, too sated to think. Yohan pulls him down until he’s sprawling on the whole seat and tucks him back into his jeans.
“I want to ride you until I pass out,” Gaon slurs like he didn’t just come down Yohan’s throat.
His lover chuckles before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Hold that thought.”
Then he slides into the front seat in a movement that shouldn’t be possible for a grown man with a holster and chaps on, let alone be half as graceful.
Gaon drifts off on the way home because, before he knows, they’re in the garage and the engine’s stopped. He hears the driver’s door open and close. And for a second, he thinks his lust has been slaked by their tryst in the parking lot, but then Yohan opens the back door and peers in at him and he’s still wearing that outfit but now he looks dishevelled and well-fucked and Gaon’s boiling with want.
In the bedroom, he allows Yohan to take off the jacket, but stops him after he’s unbuttoned his shirt. “I want you like this,” he murmurs as he pushes him to lie back on the bed, boots and all.
Yohan, on the other hand, wants Gaon bare. “In just that earring and your smudged eyeliner.”
Shit, he’d forgotten about the eyeliner, he must look a mess.
Once he’s naked, he climbs over Yohan and takes his dick out of his pants with more patience than he did back in the car. But not my much. He fishes the lube out of the bedside table and darts in to kiss Yohan’s lips. “Keep yourself hard for me while I get ready for you.”
“I could help with that, sweetheart,” his partner offers with an enticing smile.
Gaon shakes his head. “If you touch me now, I’ll go crazy again.”
Yohan’s smile widens into a smirk. “Sounds perfectly fine to me.”
“Behave,” Gaon warns.
So, he prepares himself as swiftly as he can, eyes glued to the sight of Yohan stroking himself slow and lazy, the clothes making him look like some farmhand unwinding after a long day of driving cattle. Fuck, no, Gaon will elaborate on that fantasy on another day.
When he’s ready, he positions himself over Yohan and is about to sink down when a thought occurs to him. “Do you need to give the clothes back? We need a condom.”
Yohan shakes his head with a smug smile. “I bought everything, you can mess me up as much as you want, love.”
Oh, that means— Yes, he will.
Gaon let’s Yohan guide him onto his cock, the feeling as it slides inside him as breathtaking as always. Gaon groans when he’s fully seated and then again when he feels that, just as he imagined, the holster with the gun digs into his inner thigh and the edge of the spurs will surely leave an indent on his skin. He sets a relaxed pace, deep, but not too slow, head thrown back, one arm bracing him on his lover’s thigh. Yohan’s hands stay firm on his waist to keep him steady as his smooth voice murmurs soft praise as Gaon rides him.
Gaon’s pleasure is building thick like molasses, coiling in his belly, but he needs touch, to feel hands on his chest, on his neck. His cock. Only he hasn’t left Yohan much leverage to let go of him. So, he touches himself; puts his hands on his thighs and starts moving up, giving his cock a few unhurried strokes that make his want sharpen and surge. He locks eyes with Yohan as he moves over his lover’s hands, caressing his strong fingers before he goes on, fondling his own chest, tugging his own nipples and moaning at how sensitive they are.
When he feels his orgasm looming, he moves to a brisk, galloping pace and slides his wandering hands up to his neck. “Yohan,” he gasps when he presses on his own throat, imagining it’s his lover’s touch. His cock aches between his legs as it bounces up and down, but he doesn't move to grasp it. His fingers catch on the bead of the earring as he moves to tug on his hair and the sudden stab of pain shoots pleasure down his spine like a bolt of electricity. Gaon clutches his hair and throws his head back, trusting Yohan’s hands to keep him upright, and lets his pace unravel as he comes and comes and comes.
“Gaon-ah,” Yohan’s voice is breathless and almost reverential, and when Gaon looks down at him his eyes seem almost awestruck; he’s covered in Gaon’s cum and still rock hard and searing hot inside him.
Gaon keeps rolling his hips as he lowers his hands to lean down on his partner’s chest, Yohan’s careening heart beating against his palm, and nods his head. “Yes.”
Yohan’s eyes close and his face slacks in pleasure as his cock twitches one last time and then there’s warmth flooding Gaon’s body.
He flops down on Yohan’s chest, uncaring about the mess, humming happily when he’s wrapped in a pair of strong arms. Once they catch their breath, he nudges Yohan to roll them over before pulling out so they won’t ruin the clothes completely. Suede is a bitch to clean.
He feels too boneless to move, but Yohan slides off the bed and gives them both a cursory wipe with Gaon’s discarded t-shirt. Then, judging by the sounds, he takes the costume off: there’s the twin thuds of the boots hitting the ground followed by the clinks of the buckles and the rustle of fabric.
Yohan climbs over him, completely naked, covering Gaon’s body with his, not his full weight, but all of him cradled against Gaon’s warm skin.
“Don’t take the earring off yet,” he murmurs with a wicked smile, and then they’re kissing again.