Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Jisung was dragged back to consciousness by the shrill sound of his alarm cutting through his dream and hit the offending device harder than he had intended with a loud groan. He sent it skittering across the nightstand before managing to finally shut it up and lay there, blinking at the ceiling, already exhausted before the day had even begun.
*Five more minutes. Or twenty. Or until I'm technically late enough that it matters.*
His body ached from exhaustion that sleep couldn't fix. Eight hours of fake smiles and "No sir, you need the third floor for that” had worn him out this week. He had spent yesterday forcing smiles at people who didn't deserve them, and answered the same four questions over and over. On top of all of that, last night Jisung nightmares had decided to start up again. It had been months since the last time and he had not missed them.
When he finally rolled out of bed, his apartment felt even more cold and soulless than usual. The blue couch from the second hand store looked used and as tired as he was. The fake fur rug he'd bought to "warm the place up" just looked sad against the beige laminate. He yawned and shuffled to the window to yank back the curtains.
Brick wall. Three floors down across a narrow alley.
*Inspiring. Truly. I should write poetry about it.*
He threw on his usual - an oversized hoodie and baggy pants. Clothes that hid his body even though he'd been working out for a year now but old habits were hard to break. The subway ride to work was packed and as dreary as ever but at least it was fast and cheap.
Once he arrived at the police precinct, the noise hit Jisung like a brick wall. Phones already rang from every desk, officers shouted across the room and the air hummed with tension. He slipped into the changing room and fumbled with his uniform buttons before taking his spot behind the reception desk. He inhaled deeply and let his shoulders drop on the exhale and picked up the phone.
"Reception, how can I direct you?" His voice sounded steady, even as his heart hammered a little faster than normal. The rest of the day was a blur of lost tourists, yelling citizens and the occasional weeping victim trying to report a theft. Jisung handled it all efficiently and as gently as possible. He fetched water for an old lady whose purse had been snatched and he also directed a frantic man to the homicide division.
*My ex-wife stole my dog!*
*Sir, that's a civil matter.*
*But she's EVIL!*
*Sir, I believe you. I believe you with my whole heart. But I still can't help you.*
By the time his shift ended, Jisung's head was pounding and the precinct's harsh fluorescent lights had done a number on him. His face felt like someone had installed a miniature construction site behind his left eye.
He clocked out, changed back I to his baggy clothes and slipped out through the back stairwell door instead of running the risk of facing one more person at the main exit. The heavy metal door clanged shut behind him and Jisung sank to the cold concrete step, dropped his head into his hands and just inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. His shoulders gradually unknotted themselves.
*Not gonna cry. Not here. Not again.*
He rubbed his temples, waited until the jackhammering in his skull dulled to a manageable throb and then hauled himself up. Time to brave the subway and finally start his weekend.
***
“He, Ji.”
“Earth to Jisung.”
"Jisung?!”
Jisung jumped as his mind snapped out of the void it had been hiding in.
*How did he even get here? And when?*
Felix stood in the foyer of their apartment building like a beam of sunshine in a dark alley, wearing a form-fitting crop top made of some fluffy material that made him look like a cozy elf. He was a delicately built blonde man, with a wide smile that could cure diseases.
*An elf. A very fashionable, very pushy elf.*
"Hey, Lix," Jisung said, blushing slightly, having been caught deep in his thoughts about all that had happened at work, not noticing that he had missed the elevator twice.
Felix's expression turned sympathetic. He stepped forward, pulling Jisung into a hug that smelled like vanilla and expensive massage oils. "Rough week?"
"You have no idea," Jisung mumbled into his shoulder.
"Then this weekend is exactly what you need." Felix pulled back, his eyes dancing with excitement. "We are going to Club Miroh tomorrow night to make you forget that this police precinct ever existed and *I* am meeting someone."
Jisung groaned, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Another one? Last time he turned out to be an investment banker with a foot fetish.”
“This one’s different,” Felix insisted, looping his arm through Jisung’s as they climbed the stairs. “He’s an artist. A painter. Very intense - in a good way. You’ll like him and if not, at least you’ll like the distraction.”
*Intense. That's Felix’s code for "he's going to make questionable decisions sound reasonable.*
They stopped at their doors. Felix's apartment, visible through his open door, was an explosion of color and soft textures - a warm chaotic nest compared to Jisung's more austere one.
"How about I come over tomorrow in the early evening once I'm done with work and help you get ready for the Club?" Felix suggested with a bright smile.
Jisung tiredly nodded his head - he knew from experience that it was pointless saying no to Felix when he was that excited. Deep down, he knew his friend just wanted to cheer him up and make him happy.
Once inside his dreary apartment he collapsed onto his sofa, flicked on a reality show and drifted into a restless sleep - haunted by crime-scene photos and childhood ghosts.
***
Chapter 2
On a ridge overlooking Seoul stood a sleek house of glass and concrete, ringed by dense trees and invisible, high-tech security. It looked like wealth and possibly hidden secrets. Inside, the cool air smelled of cedar with a hint of vanilla and flowers and something else.
Lee Minho, owner of the house on the ridge, lounged on a teak deck that seamlessly flowed out from the open-plan living room, divided only by floor to ceiling windows. He cradled a porcelain cup of coffee with a double-shot of espresso in his hands to chase away the last traces of sleep. He sipped slowly, staring at the city stirring below.
*Another day. Another body, probably.*
He heard the distant rush of water stopping from somewhere behind him inside the house and moments later, a graceful young man stepped out onto the deck to join Minho, wearing nothing but a low slung towel around his slender hips. A hair's-breadth taller than Minho, his delicate features looked like they belonged on a Renaissance canvas if it weren’t for the bleached blond hair that still held a hint of red dye. Hyunjin - Lee Minho's protege.
"The target is confirmed disposed of," Hyunjin said, his voice soft and melodic. "Chan says the acid bath will destroy any means of identifying the body by tomorrow morning."
"Good," Minho said, not turning around. "Was it messy?"
"Moderately,” Hyunjin turned and padded back into the kitchen to crack open the massive stainless-steel fridge. “He fought harder than I expected and I had to improvise with a piano wire as a garrote.”
Minho got up and followed the young man inside. “I’ve noticed that you are getting rather casual with solo jobs, Jinnie. I know you are extremely strong and skilled but this could have gone sideways really fast. That bruise is not exactly pretty.”
Hyunjin leaned against the counter with a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before he tilted his head back to expose the long line of his neck - a gesture of submission or perhaps a challenge, it was hard to tell. "Ok. Maybe I just like the look on their faces when they stop moving after a bit of a struggle?”
*And there it is. The serial killer humor. Delightful.*
Minho moved silently across the room and stopped right in front of his protege. He traced a finger over the bruise that was forming on Hyunjin’ s jaw. “Careful, ferret That edge you walk on is sharp. You could fall off.”
“But if I did, you would catch me, wouldn’t you?” Hyunjin whispered, eyes darkening.
Minho’s hand slid from jaw to throat, pressing just enough to remind him of his place, yet Hyunjin didn’t flinch; instead he leaned in closer, eyelashes fluttering.
“You know very well that I always do,” Minho said, releasing him. The dominance lingered like static. “But enough of death and contracts. I.N. says we have no new contracts for a couple days. I could use a drink or two and watch something - harmless.”
Hyunjin’ s face lit up after hearing that. “Then let’s hit Club Miroh together. Seungmin has a new DJ working tonight, I want to introduce you to that little dark elf I’ve been playing with. Maybe he can bring a friend.”
“If you insist,” Minho said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “I need to see something innocent to remind me that the world isn’ t all rot.”
*And if I find someone worth keeping, even better.*
“Then let’ s find you a pet for the night,” Hyunjin teased, slipping into his room to change.
Minho watched him go. He knew what Hyunjin and he were. Monsters in expensive, tailored suits - but tonight, even monsters could pretend to be human for a little while.
***
Chapter 3
That same Saturday in the late afternoon, Jisung stepped out of his tiny, steamy bathroom and padded down the short hallway into his bedroom, where a black oversized sweater and a pair of jeans lay waiting for him. He nearly ran into Felix, who had marched in like he owned the place.
Felix’ s grin snapped into a frown when he spotted the hoodie. He swiped it off the bed and tossed it to the floor. “Absolutely not,” he declared. “You’ve got a body people pay gym memberships for - *you* paid a gym membership for, yet you dress like you are hiding a crime scene. No. No. No.”
Before Jisung could object, Felix held up a pair of black trousers he’d brought along, smartly tailored, high-waisted cotton that felt surprisingly soft. “The promo promised a packed crowd tonight and you will not be skulking around like a depressed rain cloud. These will cinch your waist and make your legs look a mile long.” He practically shoved them into Jisung’s hands. “Now for the top…”
An hour and probably half a dozen rejected shirts later, Jisung stood in front of the full-length mirror. The fitted turtleneck was lightweight, stretchy and according to Felix - “just slutty enough to highlight Jisung's shoulders and abs” with that almost-cropped length.
The outfit's finishing touch was a sky-blue mesh top and chunky combat boots. Jisung stared at his reflection - he actually looked great. Confidence bubbled up as he shot Felix a grateful grin and together they headed out to the subway station.
*Okay, Felix, you magical fashion fairy, I take back everything I said about your crop‐ top obsession.*
The subway ride to the business district where Club Miroh was located passed in a blur of clattering tracks and Felix excitedly chattering about Hyunjin's art - something abstract involving color theory and decay - a subject Jisung just couldn't focus on at the moment.
By the time they emerged onto the street, the night air was thick with humidity and the thumping bass of the district's nightlife.
***
The industrial bass was pulsing through the walls like a second heartbeat when Jisung approached Club Miroh. It wasn’t ultra-exclusive - rather its crowd was eclectic: goths swaying next to neon-clad ravers, leather-harnessed couples mingling with businessmen in expensive suits who looked like they owned half the city. He took a deep breath before stepping through the club's door, mentally preparing to leave his work week behind. Felix, dressed in a see-through mesh top and leather pants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, grabbed his wrist and dragged him inside.
"Come on, Ji! Let’s GOOO!"
A short hallway opened onto a huge dance floor, with a well-stocked bar at the back. Plush couches lined the sides for those who needed to catch their breath between sets. A curved staircase led up to a VIP mezzanine by the owner’s office, curtained just enough for discreet conversations without missing the action below.
Raised platforms ringed the floor - some hosted dancers in vivid clubwear, others held patrons testing light power play with leather, collars and leashes
It was deviant and sexy without any judgment dulling the excitement. Jisung never stopped being amazed by the sight of it all and the knowledge that his friend, who looked like an innocent angel during the day, was utterly at home in this world of refined debauchery.
*And here I am, a police employee, standing in the middle of what are probably several minor violations of public decency laws. Living my best life. Mother would be so proud.*
***
"Two of your signature cocktails please," Felix said, slapping a card down. "And make them strong."
Their drinks arrived moments later - concoctions of deep violet liquid that were artfully garnished with sweet fruits. Jisung took a grateful sip, the burn of alcohol instantly soothing his frayed nerves. He leaned back against the bar, clutching the cool glass and let his eyes wander over the crowd.
"He's here," Felix hissed, gripping Jisung's arm.
Jisung followed Felix's gaze. A slender man was weaving through the crowd near the bar. He was truly striking - tall, with bleach blond hair that caught the purple lights and he was dressed in an expensive looking silk shirt that was unbuttoned just enough to be dangerous. He moved with a feline grace that reminded of a dancer and looked stunningly beautiful.
"That's the artist?" Jisung asked, dubious.
"That's Hyunjin," Felix corrected, his eyes glued to him.
Before Felix could drag Jisung over, the man stopped and looked right at them. A big, genuine smile spread across his face and he changed course, heading straight for Felix.
"Hello, my dark angel," Hyunjin said, his voice smooth and melodic like water flowing over river rocks. He completely ignored Jisung, his focus completely zeroed in on Felix who blushed in a stark contrast to his usual bravado. "You remembered to come”.
"I have an excellent memory for beautiful things," Hyunjin purred while he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Felix's ear.
*Plus we just fucked like feral ferrets just days ago and even more often over the last couple of weeks* the artist thought to himself.
*Beautiful things. Riiiight. I can see you ignoring me. That's fine. I'll just stand here and drink my depression juice.*
Jisung suddenly felt like a third wheel and his shyness returned in full force. He shifted his weight, looking for an exit and that's when he felt it.
***
A prickly feeling washed over him, when a heavy predatory gaze found him from the mezzanine where man stood by the VIP booth, silent yet impossible to ignore. He appeared to be slightly shorter than the smooth-talking artist but nonetheless owned the room as his eyes swept the dance floor in a detached and calculating manner. His bespoke charcoal-gray suit clung to him in all the right places and he swirled an amber drink without smiling, as if he was dissecting the crowd with every slow rotation of his glass.
Then those eyes landed on Jisung.
Jisung's breath froze in his chest. He knew he should look away - that stare was dangerous - but his eyes refused. The man’s gaze flickered like it was assessing him and stripping him bare. The lights on the dance floor pulsed and those dark eyes locked in on Jisung alone - it felt like being X-rayed: invasive, thrilling. Utterly terrifying.
*Why me? Was there something on my face? Was he planning my murder?*
A slow smirk appeared on the man’ s lips while he sat down the glass and slowly began to move wordlessly through the crowd - bodies parted for him as if pushed by an invisible force. And that force was headed straight towards Jisung.
Panic set in. Jisung glanced at Felix - still laughing about something Hyunjin said - there was no rescue coming from his best friend.
*Abandoned. Betrayed. Left to die by my best friend for a pretty face. The audacity.*
The mysterious man stopped right in front of him. Up close he was devastatingly handsome and the scent of expensive cologne and… gun oil? *No, that was impossible, just leather and cedar* washed over Jisung.
“You look like you are ready to bolt,” the man said, his voice low and polite but simultaneously impossibly commanding.
“Are you?" Mystery man tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as he extended his arm to move Jisung's chin up lightly with his index finger, like it was the most natural thing to do to a stranger who had remained silent. The touch felt electric, sending a shiver down Jisung's spine. "You don't look like you belong in a place like this. You look like you belong somewhere much more quiet."
*A library. A morgue. He’s sizing me up before he kills me.*
Jisungs heard a whisper in his ear: “Is it the crowd? Or is it me that’s making you tremble?”
Poor Jisung still couldn’t speak. He could only stare. His defenses were rapidly melting under that dark gaze. He’d never felt so seen, truly seen, even in his like before and it was terrifying and equally exciting.
Hyunjin’s cheerful voice broke through. “Minho! Don’t scare him off! Look who I found. Minho. This is Felix, the little angel I told you about and it looks like he was nice enough to bring a friend for you. He apologetically turned to the still frozen in place Jisung. Please forgive me, I was so enamored by Felix that I forgot my manners. How about we sit down and get acquainted?”
***
They climbed the staircase to the mezzanine and found seats at the secluded VIP booth - a crescent of plush velvet and noise-dampening foam. The two younger men slipped between Hyunjin and Minho, who signaled a server. In moments, a bottle of top-shelf whiskey appeared.
*Ordering whiskey without looking at the menu. Classic rich person behavior. I, on the other hand, would have to ask for the cheapest thing that still counts as alcohol.*
Hyunjin shifted his attention from Felix to Jisung, turning that dazzling, megawatt smile toward him for a change. He reached a hand across the table, his fingers long and elegant, stained slightly at the tips with oil paint - a permanent testament to his trade.
"I am Hyunjin," he said, his voice a sultry murmur that somehow cut through the synth emanating from the club below. "Please forgive me, I got distracted by the view and forgot my manners." He gestured vaguely towards the club. "I'm an artist. Mostly oil paintings." He shot a playful glance at Minho. "And this scary guy over here is Lee Minho, my patron Saint, so to speak. He exhibits all my work at his gallery in town. It's the only space in the city grand enough to hold his ego and my chaotic canvases."
*Patron Saint. Right. The man looks like he could kill someone with his pinky finger and devour their soul afterwards. Saint is not the word I would use.*
A genuine warmth softened the sharp angles of Minho's face as he turned his attention to Hyunjin. "Humility is a virtue, Jinnie," he replied smoothly, his voice dropping an octave while not taking the bait about his ego. Hyunjin laughed out loud and leaned forward with animated hands. "Aww, don't pout, Minho. You know I'm talking about my new floral series! I've been trying to capture the specific moment a bloom begins to decay - it's this incredibly vibrant, tragic sort of beauty. The lighting in your gallery is just perfect. In any other space, they would just look like dead flowers."
*Dead flowers. Vibrant tragedy. I'm surrounded by artists while I work at a police station. My idea of art is the stick figure I drew on a sticky note last Tuesday.*
Minho chuckled and eyes found Jisung's face, dissecting his micro-expressions with clinical precision.
"The gallery is a sanctuary of sorts," Minho's voice became educational, cutting through Hyunjin's teasing. "It is a place for things that are often misunderstood. Things that require a specific eye to truly appreciate their value."
*Misunderstood things. Is he talking about the art or himself? Or... me? Why does this feel like a job interview for a position I didn't apply for?*
"Aside from Hyunjin's... chaotic masterpieces, I have a particular fascination with feline aesthetics. Minho’s gaze shifted to him, curious and clinical at the same time. “I’ve been curating ancient-Egyptian cat sculptures,” he said, swirling his whiskey. “Guardians, deities of silent and lethal grace.” His eyes found Jisung’s. “And I am hosting a private viewing next Sunday. Consider yourselves invited - no excuses.”
*Cats. He collects cat sculptures. Of course he does. He's basically a cat himself - beautiful, distant and judging everyone. Probably planning world domination.*
The air around the table shifted as Minho leaned back into the plush velvet. His brain never stopped assessing the situation around him. The conversation about ancient aesthetics was only a smokescreen, a way to engage his intellect but his true interest sat next to Felix snd himself.
*The cat had spotted its prey.*
Hyunjin watched Minho with a knowing glint in his eyes, while Felix looked back and forth between them, sensing that something was happening. Taking pity on the nervously blinking Jisung, Hyunjin leaned closer to Felix while wiggling his perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Jisung. "We are having a little event set up next Sunday evening - it is for select clients and friends and you two are both formality invitated. We will not accept any excuses about you two not having time to come or something like it."
*Formal invitation. To an art gallery. Where rich people look at dead flowers and cat statues. What could possibly go wrong?*
"But enough about art," Minho said, "Hyunjin pours his soul onto canvas and I..." He paused, offering a self-deprecating tilt of his head that didn't quite manage to appear genuine. "...I provide the frame. But what about you, Jisung? You seem... quiet. What is it that occupies your days? Do you create? Or do you serve?"
*Quiet. He noticed I'm quiet. Most people just think I'm stuck up or weird.*
The question landed heavily on Jisung. He fidgeted with the napkin on the table with white knuckles. He hated talking about himself, especially to men who looked like they stepped off a magazine cover and operated in a world of big money and possibly shadows.
*And now I have to tell him that I work at a police station. Great. This should go well.*
"I... um, I work at the police precinct," Jisung said quietly. "Central division. Just the front desk. I'm a receptionist."
He braced himself for the dismissive replies that usually came when he talked about his job position. Instead, all he heard was silence that stretched across the table. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but a heavy, expectant one and it made him blink nervously.
Minho's eyes widened for just a fraction and a flicker of surprise broke through his mask before it settled into something far more strange. Amusement.
"The police," Minho repeated, the words rolling off his tongue like it was a dark caress. He didn't dismissively pull away. If anything, he appeared to lean in. The amusement in his eyes deepened, and then turned into something closer to assessment. "How delightfully ironic."
Hyunjin's slightly maniacal laughter cut through the noise of the club upon hearing this.
*Ironic? Why is it ironic? What does that mean? Why is the pretty artist laughing like a Disney villain?*
"A receptionist," Minho mused, lifting his glass to his lips but pausing before he drank. His dark eyes bored into Jisung, slowly stripping him of the meager defenses he had left. "You spend your days directing the flow of justice, calming the victims and keeping the order." He took a sip, his Adam's apple bobbing slowly. "And yet, here you are, sitting in the dark of Club Miroh, surrounded by deviants and chaos."
*Deviants and chaos. He's not wrong. Felix is literally wearing a rather scandalous mesh top.*
*I'm sitting in a club that is known for openly showing bdsm play throughout the premises. My life choices are questionable at best.*
If Minho hadn't been intrigued by the man sitting next to him before, he certainly was now.
"Hyunjin mentioned to me that you two are neighbors," Minho said, his tone shifting to something deceptively conversational after noticing the quizzical look on Jisung's face.
"We are," Felix chirped, seemingly immune to the aura Minho radiated. "And I give him terrible advice on his wardrobe."
"That proximity certainly works in our favor," Minho mused, looking at Jisung. "You are dressed like a temptation you don't fully understand."
"Felix picked it out," Jisung admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
"Smart friend," Minho said. "But he doesn't know the rules."
Jisung blinked, his breath suddenly hitching. "Rules? What... what rules?"
"The rule of the wilderness," Minho murmured, leaning in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of Jisung's ear, so close he could see the frantic pulse in his carotid artery. “When you dress like a delectable cut of meat it is only a matter of time before the wolves come sniffing. And unless you have a bigger wolf guarding you, you might just get eaten."
*Wolf. Wilderness. Eaten. He's definitely flirting. Or threatening. With this man, it could honestly be both.*
Jisung shuddered. The metaphor should have been insulting, terrifying even but the dark, teasing cadence of Minho's voice made it sound like a promise instead.
***
The hours slipped away faster than Jisung anticipated. After the initial awkwardness, the conversation with the intriguing man turned from frightening to actually stimulating, while Felix and Hyunjin burned calories on the dance floor like a bonfire. It wasn't until a jaw-cracking yawn betrayed him that he realized how late it had actually grown.
Minho caught his sign of fatigue immediately and glanced at the platinum watch on his wrist - his jaw ticked. It was late. He shifted his gaze to the dance floor, attempting to catch Hyunjin's eye but his protégé was otherwise occupied. He had Felix pinned against a speaker stack and was lost in a bruising kiss that promised the night was far from over for those two.
*Well. That's one way to end a conversation. Bold. Effective. I respect the commitment.*
Minhos couldn’t help but smile a little sardonic smile as he watched Hyunjin murmur something against Felix's neck that made the younger man's knees buckle. Hyunjin truly was a pro at this. When he turned his attention back to the tired looking Jisung he saw that the poor boy was fighting a losing battle against exhaustion, his lashes fluttering as he stifled another yawn.
"I think those two down there will be going to be a while," Minho observed, his voice low and smooth. He didn't wait for Jisung to agree. "It's time to get you home."
Minho pulled his phone from the interior pocket of his jacket in one fluid motion that reminded Jisung a little of the detectives at the precinct when they were practicing at the shooting range. Yes, the motion was exactly like drawing a sidearm. Minho typed a brief, curt message to his driver waiting in the underground holding area: *Front entrance. Two passengers.*
He slid the phone away and stood, buttoning his suit jacket.
"Come," Minho, extended a hand - not to shake but to guide. His palm pressed firmly against the small of Jisung's back, proprietorial and steering. "I'm taking you home."
*Come. He says it like he's talking to a dog. And somehow I'm obeying like one. This is concerning behavior, Jisung. Very concerning.*
Jisung scrambled to follow, slightly clumsy with fatigue.
They descended the curved staircase with Minho's hand a steadying weight on Jisung's lower back. As they passed the edge of the dance floor, Minho's gaze swept over the mass of bodies until he spotted Hyunjin. The younger man still had Felix pressed against the same speakers, his hand tangled possessively in the blonde's hair.
Minho didn't shout. He simply nodded at his protégé.
Hyunjin broke the kiss just long enough to glance over his shoulder, his eyes sparkling, lips swollen. Catching Minho's signal, he flashed a lazy, insolent smirk, giving an almost imperceptible tilt of his head to acknowledge he had secured his target. Minho shook his head, a ghost of a smile touching his lips and steered Jisung toward the exit.
Hyunjin would find his own way home. Eventually. He always did.
***
Jisung stepped onto the pavement outside the club and Minho didn't miss the shiver from the cold air. He drew Jisung closer, his hand firmly against Jisung's slender waist through the thin fabric of his shirt, guiding him toward the curb.
A sleek, black sedan silently moved up to the entrance, the tinted windows reflecting the street lights and driver exited immediately to open the rear door for them. Minho motioned for Jisung to get in first, then followed close behind. The leather interior was cool and smelled of expensive cedar and Minho's own distinct scent - gun oil and sandalwood.
*Gun oil . Why does he smell like gun oil? He's a gallery owner. Gallery owners should smell like old books and pretension. Not guns. This is fine. Everything is fine.*
The silence in the cabin of the sedan was heavy with unspoken questions and the low hum of the engine. Outside, the city lights bled into streaks of neon across the tinted windows, a blur of urban chaos that felt miles away from the insulated, leather-scented world Minho seemed to inhabit. He sat still like a statue of composed danger, while his eyes catalogued the young man dozing against the passenger door.
Jisung looked exhausted. The adrenaline from the club had faded, leaving nothing but a pliant and soft boy in its wake. His head lolled in sync with the motion of the car and Minho watched the steady rhythm of his breathing, his gaze lingering on the long, pale column of Jisung's throat. It was the vulnerability that made his fingers itch. He was used to seeing people as threats, assets or targets. He didn’t know what to do with someone who looked at him like he was a storm they wanted to walk into, rather than run away from.
When the car finally rolled to a stop in front of the apartment block, the contrast was jarring. The building was functional and modern but devoid of any sort of luxury. It was a world away from the sleek, modern marvel Minho and Hyunjin called home and even further from the polished brutality of his work.
The sedan idled at the curb, the engine barely audible through the soundproof glass and Minho reached out, hooking two fingers under Jisung’s chin, tilting his face up.
Jisung startled awake, his brown eyes going wide for a moment before focusing on Minho. The confusion cleared instantly, replaced by a flush of embarrassment as he realized he had fallen asleep next to a stranger. That blush increased as the reality of his situation settled over him. He was sitting in a car that cost more than his parents’ house, next to a man he found terrifyingly attractive and wanted to see again.
“We’re here,” Minho said softly, his voice devoid of the demand that usually characterized his tone. It was a statement of fact but his eyes remained fixed on Jisung, studying the younger man like a specimen he hadn’t quite decided on should need dissecting or preserving. Jisung sleepily grabbed the door handle. “Right. Yes. Thank you for the ride. And the drink.”
Minho reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket with slow and deliberate movements. Jisung froze, caught in the gravitational pull of the still dangerously handsome man’s gaze. Minho retrieved a matte black business card, heavy with embossed silver lettering and pressed it into Jisung’s palm.
"Gallery Event on Sunday, 7PM," Minho reminded him. "Call me so I have your number and I’ll send a car to pick you up. I expect to see you!”
Jisung looked down at the card, then back up, his eyes still wide and shimmering with that captivating mix of anxiety and intrigue. "I... I'll try."
He waited until he saw Jisung disappear inside the building and the door securely closed shut behind him before telling the driver to take him home. On the drive home, he couldn't help but fantasize about all the depraved things he would like to do to Jisung's body.
*Patience is a virtue. One I apparently no longer possessed.*
***
Minho sat in silence on the drive home to the outskirts of Seoul. He had raised the privacy partition but the silence didn’t bring the usually peace. Not tonight. Tonight his mind was a storm named Han Jisung.
He understood perfectly that the boy was a liability in the most primal sense. He worked at the police precinct - a clerk, a cog in the machine of law and order. It was poetic in a twisted way, a lamb guarding the gate while the wolves prowled outside.
Minho closed his eyes, visualizing the wide, brown eyes, the delicate flutter of a pulse in a neck that begged to be claimed.
***
Chapter 4
Some time later Felix stumbled out of Club Miroh with a thumping heartbeat. Hyunjin’s grip on his wrist was ironclad, dragging him toward another sleek black car - different from Minho’s yet equally expensive.
"Hyunjin, wait," Felix gasped, breathless, the adrenaline and alcohol mixing in his veins to create a dizzying high, fueling a seemingly everlasting erection. "Where are we going?"
Hyunjin stopped and turned around so abruptly that Felix nearly collided with his chest. The streetlights caught the sharp angles of Hyunjin’s face, his eyes black and focused, shedding the veneer of the worldly artist to reveal the predator underneath for a second, smiling seductively at his little dark elven prince. He reached down, his long fingers threading into Felix’s hair, tilting his head back with enough force to inflict just the right amount of pain, eliciting a delicious moan from Felix mouth. He could feel his cock growing harder.
"We're going somewhere quiet," Hyunjin murmured, moving his grip from Felixes hair to the back of his slender neck, sending a shiver down the blonde's spine that had nothing to do with the night chill. "Somewhere I can hear you moan properly."
Felix’s breath hitched as adrenaline and a dark thrill was going through to his already straining groin. He looked up at Hyunjin, his own mask of sunshine cracking just enough to reveal his own shadows beneath. "You know I'm not quiet," Felix challenged with his dark voice, smiling mischievously.
Hyunjin’s grin widened, becoming all teeth and predatory like. "I’m looking forward to it my little angel." He yanked open the rear door of the car and shoved Felix inside, studying the other man’s visible erection and scrambled into the car afte him. Once he pulled the door shut with a definitive thud, they were sealed in their own private world. As the car merged into the late-night traffic, Hyunjin's hand slid slowly up Felix’s thigh until he reached the bulge in his groin, squeezing it roughly with a promise of more pain and pleasure to come.
***
The drive was laced with anticipation and made Felix’ stomach flutter. Partially because Hyunjin’s hand remained on the blond angel strained groin, possessive and hot like a brand that seared through the leather, partially because he was looking forward to what the devilish artist had in store for him tonight. When the car finally stopped, it wasn't at a hotel or Felix's apartment complex. It was a high-end, industrial-looking building downtown, the kind of place that did not draw attention.
My secondary art studio”, Hyunjin said simply as he ushered Felix out of the car and toward the private elevator. "Minho thinks he's the only one who knows how to mix business with pleasure but he is mistaken and it’s much better than the hotel rooms we’ve been using up until now."
The elevator ride was swift and silent, the mirrors reflecting a disheveled Felix and a calm, collected Hyunjin. When the doors opened, they revealed a vast, open space of concrete floors, high ceilings and the smell of turpentine and paint. But it was what lay beyond the easels and canvases that drew Felix's attention.
A section of the studio was curtained off and Hyunjin led him toward it, his movements graceful and confident. With a dramatic flourish, he swept the curtain aside.
Inside was a playground for the deviant that made Felix drool with anticipation.
A St. Andrew's cross stood against the far wall - polished wood with thick leather restraints. An adjustable, padded bench stood off to the side and a suspension rig hung from the ceiling, while chains were glinting in the ambient lighting.
Hyunjin stepped into Felix’s space, backing him up until his legs hit the edge of a padded bench. "You have a certain look in your eyes, Felix," Hyunjin purred, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating against Felix's lips. "Like you want to be broken."
Felix looked up at him, a tiny smile forming in the corners of his lips and pupils dilated by arousal. He reached out, fingers curling into the lapels of Hyunjin’s silk shirt, pulling him down until their breaths mingled. "Maybe," Felix whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of desire and anticipation. "Or maybe I just want to see if you can handle me."
Hyunjin laughed, a bright, delighted sound. He leaned in, biting down on Felix’s lower lip hard enough to draw a drop of blood, tasting the metallic tang of iron.
"Challenge accepted," Hyunjin growled.
***
Minhos car entered through the security gates of his property, the tires crunching on the pristine driveway as the house emerged from the darkness like a glass monolith with floor-to-ceiling windows glowing with soft, ambient.
He entered the entry code into the keypad, the heavy door clicking open to admit him into the silent hallway. He shed his jacket and hung it meticulously on to the coat rack. The house smelled of cedar and vanilla with a hint of cinnamon - clean, empty, waiting.
He bypassed the living room and the kitchen, walking straight down the hallway towards this bedroom. He didn't need to turn on the main lights, the outdoor lights coming from the windows illuminated the room enough. He walked over to the far end where his tools hung - crops, whips, coils of Japanese silk rope arranged by thickness and material. Leather straps of different length and weight.
His hand hovered over a coil of jute, rough and abrasive, before moving to a length of midnight-blue silk. Smooth. Deceptive. It tightens without mercy if used correctly.
He pictured Jisung. The way the boy had looked tonight, wide-eyed and innocent, yet drawn to the flame. The way his pulse had fluttered against Minho’s fingertips when he’d touched his neck. He imagined that pulse racing, sweat beading on Jisung's upper lip as he stood in the center of this room, stripped bare. Not just of his clothes, but of that anxiety he carried like some kind of armor.
In his mind, Minho saw Jisung kneeling in front of him - an image so vivid it made his cock twitch in his trousers. He pictured rope binding Jisung’s wrists behind his back, the fibers biting into soft, pale skin. He imagined the fear warring with the relief in Jisung's eyes as Minho took control, as the chaotic noise of the world - of the police station, his and society's expectations - were silenced by the singular, absolute command of Minho’s voice.
He imagined Jisung begging. Not for freedom but for the desperate, aching permission to cum.
Minho closed his eyes, exhaling a shuddering breath that did nothing to quell the fire in his blood and his mind continued to torture him with fantasies about the shy young man he discovered tonight. He wanted to ruin him. He wanted to peel back every layer of Jisung's defenses until there was nothing left but raw, trembling need. He wanted to be the one to fasten a collar around that slender neck, claiming him completely.
He fantasized about sinking his cock into the little squirrel's tight, probably inexperienced hole, burying himself to the hilt to revel in that searing, vice-like heat. Hearing high pitched, broken whimpers every time he pistoned his hips, driving his steel-hard length into Jisung’s prostate until the boy was incoherent.
He imagined forcing Jisung to beg for relief from the painful, untouched hardness that was straining between his legs, only granting the crying and begging man his release when Minho himself felt his hot cum spilling deep into Jisung’s bowels.
With an almost wistful look, Minho took the silky rope from the wall, running it through his fingers, the texture a sensory anchor.
"You have no idea what you've walked into, little squirrel," Minho whispered to the empty room.
He needed a distraction. He needed to bleed off the tension before he did something reckless, like going back to that modest apartment building and kicking the door down and he knew by the ache of his angry cock that merely masturbating would not alleviate his current situation.
***
Irritated, he left the bedroom and headed to the other side of the house where his office was and walked to the laptop setup on the heavy wood desk in the middle of the room. He opened it, the screen casting a cold blue light over his sharp features. He navigated to a secure server, pulling up the file I.N. had sent over earlier that day.
A new contract
*so much for having a couple days off*
A high-ranking drug and flesh dealer operating out of Busan. Scum. The kind of filth Minho enjoyed erasing.
He opened the dossier, scanning the details. The target, the schedules, the security. The focus required was intense and planning had to be meticulous. It was the only thing that could quiet the roar of blood in his ears and the painful arousal right now.
As he read, his mind turned back into a cold, calculating machine - yet in the back of his head, the image of Jisung’s wide, brown boba eyes lingered on, a ghost he couldn't exorcise.
When Minho began to plan the kill, his fingers were flying across the keyboard but the silk rope lay coiled on the table like a sleeping snake, waiting for its master to decide who would be its next victim. Minho hadn’t even realized he had brought the silk rope with him.
***
In a different part of Seoul, inside the secondary art studio, Hyunjin’s fingers moved his hemp rope expertly over Felix’s delicate skin with a graceful flourish. He didn't rush. In this art form, unlike his more abstract paintings, precision was everything. He stood behind Felix with the heat of his chest radiating against the smaller man’s back and began the intricate process of the Takate Kote.
"Arms back," Hyunjin commanded softly, his lips tickling the sensitive shell of Felix’s ear.
Felix obeyed instantly, the command letting a shiver race down his spine. He crossed his wrists behind his back, presenting himself with an eagerness that made Hyunjin’s blood sing. The blonde looked like a fallen angel caught in a web of his own making with his head tilted back to expose the vulnerable line of his throat.
Hyunjin started with a double column tie around Felix’s wrists, the friction of the rope creating a warmth that would soon evolve into a dull, throbbing ache. He worked his way up Felix’s forearms, the knots tightening with each pass, creating a ladder of hemp that bit into the skin just enough to remind Felix of his captivity but without cutting off blood supply.
Hyunjin smiled against Felix's neck, pressing a lascivious kiss to the fluttering pulse there. He secured the wraps, ensuring the tension was distributed evenly to avoid cutting off circulation. The beauty of the tie lay in its efficiency - it immobilized the arms completely, forcing the chest outward, making the subject helpless.
With Felix’s arms secured, Hyunjin moved to the chest harness. He passed the rope over Felix’s shoulders, crossing it between his pecs, the fibers framing his nipples. Felix hissed as the rope dragged over the sensitive peaks. The ropes bit in just enough to pinch, creating a canvas of friction that demanded his attention. Felix stood there, arms useless behind his back, chest heaving, his pupils large and dark, a mixture of adrenaline and endorphins and a whimper escaped his lips as he struggled to stay still. The sound brought a wicked smirk onto the devilish painter's face.
"Stay still," Hyunjin warned, though there was no real heat in his tone. He enjoyed the squirming. The way Felix’s body reacted to every touch, every tug. It was a dance, a conversation spoken in the language of tension and surrender.
He continued his work, the intricate patterns of the rope creating a stunning visual of restraint. The contrast of the rope against Felix’s pale skin was mesmerizing. He was a sculpture - art come to life.
When the upper body tie was complete, Hyunjin stepped back to admire his handiwork. Felix stood, arms bound behind his back, chest heaving, his eyes glazed with a mixture of pain and pleasure. He looked beautiful. He looked owned.
"Hyunjin," Felix whimpered, his voice cracking. "Please."
"Please what?" Hyunjin teased, walking a slow circle around his captive, his finger trailing along the ropes, checking the tension. "Tell me what you need."
"I need... I need you to touch me," Felix pleaded, his hips twitching involuntarily. "Please."
Hyunjin stopped in front of him, his expression darkening. He reached out, gripping Felix’s jaw, forcing their eyes to meet.
"I am touching you," Hyunjin said calmly. "The rope is an extension of my hands. Can't you feel me? Can't you feel how I am holding you?" To drive his point home, he placed a rather brutal slap on the bound man’s ass cheek.
He walked to a nearby table and selected a riding crop. It was a beautiful piece of equipment - a long, flexible fiberglass shaft coated in rich black leather, ending in a small, flat slapper designed to deliver a sharp, stinging bite. He swished it through the air, testing the resistance, the sound creating a sharp *snap* that made Felix flinch visibly.
The sharp sound of the crop cutting the air acted like a trigger. Felix’s breath increased, his spine bowing instinctively, presenting the curves of his ass for inspection while the first droplets of precum emerged from his erect cock.
"Look at you," Hyunjin murmured, circling Felix like a predator assessing a particularly succulent piece of prey. He tapped the flat tip of the crop against Felix’s cock, coating it with the pre-cum already dripping from it, before gently placing the leather to Felix lips. "Already leaking and I haven't even started yet."
Felix parted his lips, his tongue darting out to taste himself on the leather, his eyes locked on Hyunjin’s. "Please," he whispered, the word vibrating against the crop.
Taunting Felix, Hyunjin was dragging the tip of the crop down Felix's chin, over the bobbing Adam's apple and tracing the centerline of his chest. He paused directly over one of the sensitive nipples, pressing the leather into the bud until Felix gasped. "Please… what, Felix? Please, hurt you? Please mark you? You have to use your words, little angel."
"Everything," Felix breathed out, his eyes rolling back as Hyunjin applied more pressure, making him arch his chest into the unyielding tool. "Please, Hyunjin. I want it all."
Hyunjin hummed, a dark, satisfied sound. He stepped closer, his chest pressing against Felix’s bound arms, trapping him. "Since you asked so nicely."
Hyunjin stepped back, granting Felix a deceptive moment of relief but the heat in his eyes promised that the storm was far from over. Without a word of warning, he swung the crop in a sharp, controlled arc.
*Snap.*
The leather slapper landed flush against Felix’s left buttock, the sound sharp and crisp in the open studio. Felix moan was filthy and loud, his body jerking forward, but the ropes held him fast, preventing him from escaping the sting. A thin, angry red line bloomed instantly on the pale skin.
Another sharp *snap* followed immediately, this time crossing the other cheek.
Felix moans transformed into cries, his hands clenching into fists behind his back where they were bound. The sting was sharp and immediate, radiating heat across the surface of his skin. But beneath it lay a deep, throbbing current of pleasure that short-circuited his brain. It wasn't just pain; it was exquisite pleasure and every nerve ending was screaming for the next strike.
"You have such a beautiful canvas," Hyunjin murmured, admiring the vivid red lines rising against the pale skin. He flicked his wrist, delivering a rapid succession of strikes - three, four, five - each one precise, landing dangerously close to the sensitive crease where thigh met ass.
"God!" Felix cried out, his voice cracking as the crop struck a particularly tender spot high on his thigh. The stinging heat was becoming unbearable, a roaring fire that consumed his ability to think. He slumped forward, only the ropes keeping him upright, his breathing ragged and shallow.
Hyunjin stopped, the silence of the studio rushing back in, broken only by Felix’s desperate panting. The artist ran a hand gently over the heated, reddened skin of Felix’s ass, his touch a stark contrast to the biting leather. He tossed the crop onto the table with a clatter.
"Color?" Hyunjin asked softly, his fingers tracing the angry welts with reverence.
"Green," Felix choked out, unable to suppress the tiny smirk that started to bloom in the corner of his mouth despite the tears streaming freely down his cheek. Please."
That little smirk did not escape Hyunjin's gaze and he hummed, a dark, satisfied sound. He pressed his chest against Felix’s bound arms, trapping the smaller man against his own body, letting him feel the hard line of his cock straining against his trousers.
"Good little bad boy," Hyunjin whispered, his breath hot against the damp skin of Felix's neck. He nipped at the sensitive cord of muscle there, soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue. "But the crop is just the overture, angel. We need to get that blood pumping properly before I take what’s mine."
"Now, let's see how much you can take."
Hyunjin didn’t give Felix a moment to anticipate the next wave. He preferred his victims - no, his partners - to be kept in a state of breathless suspension, unable to differentiate between the caress of a lover and the strike of a judge.
He lightly pushed Felix forward, the ropes forcing his chest out as his balance faltered. He fell to his knees on the padded bench, the leather cool against his heated skin, but he didn't hesitate. He lowered his face, lifting his hips into the air, displaying the reddened, striped canvas of his ass to Hyunjin’s hungry gaze. It was a position of absolute vulnerability and Hyunjin couldn't help but lick his lips.
"Perfect," Hyunjin, stepping up behind him. He reached out to trail his fingers down the sensitive crease of Felix's thigh, watching the muscle jump and twitch under the touch. He squeezed the reddened flesh, kneading it firmly, feeling the way Felix tried to buck into the touch despite the stinging aftershocks of the crop.
"Look at you. So eager to be ruined.
*Smack.*
The sound sounded wet and heavy, a stark contrast to the sharp, biting *snap* of the crop. Hyunjin’s large palm connected with Felix’s flesh, the impact radiating deep into the muscle, a dull, heavy throb that immediately began to bloom into heat. This wasn't the surface sting of leather; this was the heavy, bruising weight of possession.
Felix’s body jerked with each impact, his skin flushing from pink to a deep, angry crimson. The ropes held him secure, framing the canvas of his back and ass, turning his struggles into a dance of submission. He was moaning continuously now, a low sound that bordered on sobbing, his fingers curled into useless fists behind his back.
"Look at this color," Hyunjin murmured, his voice sounding like it was coming from underwater. He ran a cooling palm over the blazing heat of Felix’s cherry colored ass, the contrast drawing a broken sob from the blonde’s lips. "Painted in my favorite hues. Red and desperate. A masterpiece." He pressed his body back against Felix's hot and throbbing ass, rubbing his now very visible erection against the tied-up man.
"Can you feel what you are doing to me? Will you be a good boy and help me get rid of this or do I need to add some more color to this masterpiece?" Felix was taken aback by the unholy moan escaping from his own mouth, barely able to form a coherent sentence. "Hyunjin, pleeeease. Fuck me. Please fuck me hard and make me feel you cum deep inside my ass. Please. I've been so good for you. Haven't I?"
Hyunjin retrieved a small bottle of lube from a nearby drawer, the sound of the cap popping open echoing in the silent studio. He coated his fingers generously, his eyes fixed on the sight before him - Felix, bound and begging, his hole clenching in anticipation.
"Since you begged so nicely, I'm going to stretch you open for me instead of plunging into you unprepped," Hyunjin whispered into Felix’s ear. "And then you're going to take everything I give you."
The first long finger breached the ring of muscle, cold and slick with lube. Felix let out a groan, his body only slightly tensing before accepting the intrusion eagerly. Hyunjin, barely able to contain his own ever-growing need by now, hummed in satisfaction that his filthy little angel didn't need too much prep work. He added a second finger, then a third in quick succession, stretching Felix open until his moans turned into filthy groans reverberating off the studio walls and a constant stream of pleas and curses were falling from the blonde’s lush lips.
When Felix was loose and panting, his body shining with a fine sheen of sweat, Hyunjin withdrew his fingers. The sudden emptiness drew a whine from Felix’s throat.
"Shh!," Hyunjin commanded, lining himself up.
He freed his straining cock from his now too tight pants with a sigh of relief and pushed forward in one smooth, relentless thrust. He didn't stop until he was fully seated and his hips flush against Felix’s ass. The sensation was glorious - tight, wet heat engulfing him. Felix screamed in a mixture of pain and pleasure, his body bowing, the ropes cutting deliciously into his skin as he struggled to accommodate the sheer size of the blond devil invading his body.
Hyunjin waited a moment, giving Felix time to adjust while giving himself a moment to savor the feeling of being buried so deep inside this beautiful creature before him.
Then, he began to move.
He set a brutal pace right from the start. There was no gentle buildup, no slow rocking. He pulled out almost entirely only to slam back in, setting a rhythm that jarred Felix’s entire body. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the studio, a vulgar, wet sound that mingled with Felix’s cries.
"Take it," Hyunjin grunted, his fingers digging into Felix’s hips. "Take my cock, you little slut."
Felix could only moan, his brain overwhelmed by the sensation of being railed by this blonde God behind him, his body rocking with the force of Hyunjin’s thrusts. The rope harness bit into his skin with every movement, a constant, stinging reminder of his submission. He felt used, debased and utterly alive.
Hyunjin reached around, wrapping an elegant hand around Felix’s neglected cock, which was straining against his stomach. He began to stroke him in time with his thrusts, his grip tight and demanding.
"Cum for me," Hyunjin commanded, his voice harsh with his own impending release. "Show me how much you love this."
The dual stimulation was too much for the bound man to resist for long. Felix’s vision whited out, his body seizing as he tumbled over the edge. He came with a loud scream, his cock pulsing in Hyunjin’s grip, painting his own stomach and the bench with thick, white ropes.
The clench of Felix’s ass around him was Hyunjin’s own push over the edge. With a guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt one last time and spilled inside Felix, his release intensifying the feeling of fullness and possession. He rode out the waves of his orgasm, his hips jerking sporadically, until he was completely spent.
Breathing heavily, Hyunjin leaned forward, draping himself over Felix’s back.
"You did so good," he whispered, his voice thick from the orgasm he just experienced. "So good for me."