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The sound of boots against soft flesh. His father screaming and his mother crying. The pungent, sharp, metallic smell of blood. His mother was trying her hardest not to look at the closet where the boy was crouched, silently sobbing and unable to turn away from the scene before him. “All you had to do,” grunted one of the men as he slammed his foot once more into the mother’s swollen belly, “was do what Spider asked.” Another slam.

“Please, please! She’s pregnant!” the father sobbed, trying desperately to wrench himself away from the huge, muscled goon who was holding him roughly away from the boy’s mother.

The man who was stomping on the mother leered over at the father and wrenched a gun from his pants, shooting three times into the mother’s belly. She screamed, blood-curdling and mournful. “Not anymore she isn’t.” The man seemed to be laughing but the boy couldn’t understand why he would laugh at something like that. A deep red pool of blood gathered beneath the mother, staining her pretty yellow sundress crimson.

The father howled in pain, his voice choking off into a broken gurgle as the goon who was holding him roughly smashed the butt of his own gun into the father’s temple. “Shut the fuck up, you rat. Where is the shipment you promised us?” the man snarled, hitting the father again then throwing him to the floor.

“Spider don’t like liars, Kim. Where. Is. The. Shipment.” The goon crouched over the father’s crumpled body. Another smash of the butt of the gun. A sickening crunch. The father didn’t move anymore. Deep red slid from the spot of impact and the goons looked down at him in disgust, one of them spitting on his motionless body.

“Fucking hell, man. We were supposed to intimidate him, not kill him,” said one of the goons.

“Well, he’s intimidated alright. Scared him right into an early fucking grave. You want a turn with his bitch or can we burn this shithole down and get back home? I’m fucking hungry,” said the other goon.

Another man walked into the house then, looking superciliously down at the father’s motionless body. He was huge and his arms were covered in tattoos, colorful scenes with lots of small spiders. “Is this the asshole who fucked Spider over?” he asked, his voice booming.

“Yes, sir. He wouldn’t tell us where it was,” said one of the goons.

The huge man looked over to the mother. “Is this bitch used up or what?”

“She’s probably dead.”

“Well, fuck it. Burn this shithole,” the big man said. For just the slightest moment, his beady eyes slid over the closet door the boy was hidden behind and the boy hurriedly stuffed his tiny fist into his mouth to muffle his sobs, hardly daring to breathe.

Then the man turned and left the house altogether, one of the goons following him. The other doused the father’s body in a strong-smelling, pale gold liquid then did the same to the mother. He wandered around the house, spurting the liquid everywhere and nearly making the boy gag on the odor. The goon flicked a lighter and threw it down on the liquid. Fire shot up the walls with a roar and the goon ran out of the house, closing the door firmly behind him.

“Taehyung-ah…you have to run, baby. You have to run. Get out of here! Run!” the mother immediately screamed and the boy walked out of the closet on shaky legs.

“B…but, Mommy,” the boy choked.

“Run, Taehyung, you have to run!” the mother howled, nearly mad with desperation. “Get out of here!”

Picking up on her panic, the boy turned away from his mother’s broken body, from his father’s motionless one, from the home he’d always known, now being eaten by furious fire. He opened the front door and looked backward, just as his mother’s body went up in flames and she screamed in a way that was almost inhuman.

Then Kim Taehyung ran for his life.

He sat bolt upright with a cry, his body covered in sweat and his pulse hammering so loudly that he was sure he’d gone temporarily deaf. He choked on his own anxiety and gripped the scratchy sheets in his fists, trying to chase away the remnants of the nightmare.

Instinctively, he looked toward the door, expecting to see a steel door with a slit instead of the hotel room door. He wasn’t used to being out of the jail cell yet. He scrubbed his face with his shaky hands, still feeling jittery, then he reached over to the nightstand for the crushed pack of stale cigarettes that had been in a small steel locker at the jail for a little under a year. He stuffed a stick between his broad, full lips and lit it, inhaling as though he couldn’t breathe and exhaling in relief as he felt the nicotine flow into his system.

He shoved his free hand through his hair and sighed heavily, then swung his long legs off the sagging mattress and pulled on his jeans, tightening the belt over his narrow waist to no avail, as the denim still rode low on his hips. Exhaling more smoke, he pulled on his jacket and left the hotel room, still feeling antsy about the dream. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep now so he left the hotel room altogether.

Being out of jail was weird. A cell filled with other men, little to no running water because it was winter, and endless waiting. That had been his life for a year. He hadn’t had the autonomy to watch the sunrise when he wanted to for months. He took advantage of this freedom now as the sky was turning gradually from black to royal blue, the stars slowly fading into invisibility once more.

Kim Taehyung flicked the spent cigarette butt over the railing but didn’t go back into the hotel room. He’d spent far too long trapped in one room to be comfortable staying in one voluntarily now. The spring air was cool but comfortable. The sound of his mother’s scream knifed through his skull again and he covered his face with his hands, reaching for another cigarette almost instantly. His body still felt alight with the anxiety but that had been his version of normal for over a decade at this point. The smoke curled from his lips as he exhaled and he forced his mind away from his mother’s scream, the sickening crunch that had ended his father’s life, the pungent smell of blood and fire...

He shuddered and took another drag on the cigarette.

As the sun crested over the horizon, for the millionth time, he swore that he was going to make them all pay. Every single one of the men who had destroyed his life – especially the one who’d given the orders, Spider. He just needed to figure out where the bastard was.

He swallowed, allowing the rage to fill him once more. He needed to get to Seoul.

After checking out of the shitty hotel, he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go so he simply started aimlessly walking. His stomach snarled and he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. There wasn’t much in there. Certainly not enough for him to eat the way he wanted to.

It wasn’t going to be easy to get from Daegu to Seoul, not without money. And he had none. But what he did have…were the same skills that had landed him in jail to begin with. He could steal. That was how he’d survived once he’d run away. Stealing had kept him fed and sheltered for years…even if that food and shelter came from a jail cell. It had been so long since he’d been allowed to do what he wanted to do. He had no routine now – that was the hardest part of it all. Before he’d been released, one of the officers had told him, “Don’t come back here, kid. Go home to your family.”

If only the officer knew how much Taehyung wanted to do just that. Only, he had no home or family to go back to. He hadn't for years. And the only semblance of family he'd ever had had been taken from him nearly 8 years ago.

He saw a particularly affluent looking person wander into the store, an older woman. Taehyung sized her up and she returned his stare a bit more enthusiastically than he would have anticipated. Instantly, before he’d even thought about it, he’d come up with at least 5 scenarios in which he could take what the woman had. He swallowed and looked back out the window, feeling her gaze boring into the back of his head so heatedly that he was sure his blond hair would go up in flames.

The woman came and sat beside him at the small counter and he looked at her. “You’re pretty,” she said without preamble. Apparently being over 40 didn’t leave you with much time for bullshitting. He liked that she cut straight to the chase.

He was slightly irritated because he hadn’t actually eaten since he’d been released from the jail but…he wasn’t stupid enough to turn down a willing mark like this so he turned on the charm. “So are you, noona,” he replied, giving her a faultlessly shy smile. He knew damn well this lady was old enough to be his mother but who was he to judge free money?

The lady gave him a smile that was far from endearing. Internally, he shuddered. For fucks sake, this lady was so far from his type that it was ridiculous. They talked for a few minutes, the woman going on and on about her son who’d just joined the military and Taehyung pretending to be interested. Eventually the two left the shop, her arm tucked securely in the crook of his elbow as they walked to her car, the woman blathering incessantly about something Taehyung obviously couldn’t have cared less about if he’d tried to.

He kept himself as far away from the woman as he was able to, but she seemed to love touching him. It irritated him but she bought him soju and food so he pretended to find her annoying bray of a laugh as she chose a room at the hotel endearing. That night, while she slept, he scrubbed himself in the shower for long enough that he was sure he’d used all the hot water at the hotel but he still didn’t feel clean. Giving up, he shut off the shower and dried himself, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“The shit I do for money,” he scoffed at himself, looking away from the mirror in annoyance. He pulled on his clothes and padded softly back into the room where the woman was still asleep. He eyed her nude, prone form in disgust, then snatched up her purse, rifling through it and pulling out crisp bills from her wallet. Gently, he unclasped the necklace around her neck and put it in his pocket, along with the earrings she’d left on the bedside table and the single diamond ring that was probably from her husband. He shoved all of this into his pocket and left the room silently, slipping from the building out into the night.

He needed a drink.

Taehyung hailed a cab and slipped inside, asking the driver for the location of the best bar he could find. The cabbie grunted in response and drove Taehyung away from the hotel. The lights of the city flashed across the windshield and seemed to be too bright after months of staring at nothing but grey concrete and slivers of indigo from the tiny ass window. The cab stopped at a bar and Taehyung paid the driver, sliding out of the back seat and walking inside. He located the counter and took a seat, waiting for a bartender to notice him.

The bar was crowded, people pressed up against one another at the counter, trying to get noticed by the bartenders. Once he’d placed his order and been given his double shot, he tried to move to a less congested part of the counter but he felt a strong grip on his arm, holding him firmly in place. Anger flared up in him. He really didn’t have time for this. And he was in a shit mood. Taking it out on someone else’s hide would be all too simple.

He made to move again and was again held fast by the strong hand. He was just about to turn around and punch the person when he felt lips at his ear and heard a tremulous voice say, “Taehyung, wait.” He froze. He didn’t know anyone here. He didn’t know anyone in this city – period. “Tae, I really need you to act natural right now. We need to leave. Right now.” The person’s breath was hot on his ear, the words frantic. The person sounded completely terrified.

Taehyung thought, fuck it, and swallowed down the majority of his drink, paying the bartender then allowing the strong hand to pull him away from the bar. As casually as he was able, he walked out of the bar, still not seeing the person who was holding onto him as they’d stayed behind him. The hand that was holding onto his wrist tightly enough to bruise was shaking. When they got outside, the hand yanked him into the alleyway that led to the parking lot and Taehyung saw who it was.

He felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach.

“J…Jimin…” he breathed, feeling as though he was going to collapse. Jimin was thin, much thinner than he had been the last time Taehyung had seen him 8 years ago, his cheeks gaunt, his eyes large and sunken, his skin sickly grey. His gaze was terrified as he pressed Taehyung against the side of the building with his own body, looking around a corner into the lot.

“Fuck,” Jimin hissed, looking up at Taehyung. He pulled keys from his pocket and held them up before the younger’s face. “I have the keys but they have someone guarding the car. How the fuck are we supposed to get away quickly enough?”

“Hey,” they heard and both of them froze. “Hey!” Taehyung looked around the corner and saw a pudgy man in a sharp black suit coming towards them.

“We’re fucked,” Jimin whimpered, looking on the verge of tears.

Taehyung felt adrenaline spike in his system when he saw the man pull out a knife. Jimin started to back away, his wide, terrified eyes flitting from one direction to the other, looking for a way out. Without thinking, Taehyung launched himself at the man, barreling headfirst into his belly and making the man wheeze in surprise. The knife in the man’s hand clattered to the ground and he stumbled backward. Taehyung got his balance and stood straight.

He hadn’t learned much in jail, but he knew how to defend himself and how to take a punch. The man brushed his suit off in irritation and started toward Taehyung, slamming a fist into his gut and making him bend double. A knee smashed into Taehyung’s face and Taehyung’s vision temporarily sparkled with stars. He fell backward onto his ass and couldn’t catch his breath. The man was a trained fighter. “Hey, you. Bitch. What’re you doing out here with this asshole?” the man spat in irritation, pulling a gun from a holster hidden in his suit jacket.

Taehyung reached for the fallen knife as slowly and inconspicuously as he could just as the man started toward Jimin, who looked completely frozen with pure terror. The man grabbed a fistful of Jimin’s hair and yanked him back over to where Taehyung was on the ground, making Jimin cry out sharply and reach for man’s hand, trying to loosen his grip. Jimin whimpered, looking as though he was on the verge of a breakdown and the man cracked the butt of the gun against Jimin’s face.

Taehyung saw red.

He leapt off the ground and the last thing he saw was the man’s surprised face as Taehyung sank the knife deep into his belly. When he was finally aware of his surroundings again, the man was on the ground, motionless, with a pool of deep crimson flooding from the ragged slashes in his throat, his eyes glassy and unseeing. Taehyung was completely covered in blood.

“You…you killed him,” Jimin said, his voice numb with shock and terror. Taehyung scrambled off the man’s lifeless body, still firmly clutching the knife. “Tae…Taehyung, we have to get the fuck out of here.” Jimin’s voice was lifeless. Taehyung finally looked over at him, panting. He slid the knife into his pocket and hurriedly searched the man’s body, taking money from his wallet and unclasping his watch, which Taehyung was sure was a Rolex. Finally, he walked over to Jimin, pulling the boy off the ground as gently as he was able. Jimin stared at the dead man for a long moment before he reached into his pocket and pulled out some keys, pushing a button on the key fob and making the lights on one of the cars in the lot blink. “Can you drive?” he asked Taehyung, still staring at the corpse.


“Then let’s go. We need to get out of here right the fuck now.” They all but ran to the car and slid inside, Taehyung pulling out of the lot and keeping his lights off until they got to the street. Jimin was shaking. “Get on the highway. We need to put as much distance between us and him as we possibly can.” Taehyung complied wordlessly. They drove in silence for a long time before Jimin finally spoke. “What were you doing in that bar?” His voice was soft and somewhat raspy, as though he couldn’t breathe properly.

“I was planning on getting as drunk as humanly possible,” Taehyung answered. Jimin said nothing in response to this and the silence took over the car again for a few more miles. “This is not how I saw my night going. I woke up a free man and I’m gonna go to sleep tonight a fucking murderer.”

“You’re more than a murderer,” Jimin said quietly. “You’re fucked. Just like me.”

“Fucked why? What were you doing in that bar?” Taehyung asked.

Jimin didn’t say anything for a long time. When Taehyung looked over at him, he saw that his friend was silently crying. He swallowed and turned back to the road. “Let’s get off the road. We need to ditch this car. And we need to clean you up,” Jimin said finally, his voice thin. Taehyung nodded and pulled off the freeway, driving them to a store. He parked and shut the lights off. Jimin rummaged in the glove compartment for napkins, wetting them with his spit and wiping at the dried blood on the side of his face so he didn’t look so gory.

“Don’t forget your arm,” Taehyung said quietly, pointing at the red handprint he’d left on Jimin’s skin when he’d pulled him off the ground. Jimin shuddered and hurried to scrape off the blood onto another napkin. Taehyung reached into his pocket and handed Jimin a few bills, careful to choose the ones that weren't bloodstained. “Hurry.”

Jimin hesitated as he put his hand on the door handle and looked back at Taehyung, his expression terrified. “You won’t…like, drive off and leave me here, will you?”

Taehyung frowned. “Of course not. Just hurry and come back. I think I might be freaking out,” he said quickly. Jimin nodded and slipped from the front seat, running into the store quickly. When the passenger door closed, Taehyung sighed heavily. He wanted to touch his face but his hands were caked with dried blood. He swallowed hard. He’d killed someone. He’d killed someone. A flesh and blood human being was no longer breathing because of him.

Taehyung had a lot of crimes under his belt - prostitution, grand theft auto, petty theft, and so on. But he’d always prided himself on the fact that he’d never committed the ‘big crimes’. He’d never forced himself on someone else and he’d never killed someone else.

Or…he hadn’t before tonight.

His heart thudded in his throat and he almost felt like he wanted to cry but he couldn’t breathe enough to even work up a sob. His head became fuzzy and he heard static in his ears, as though there was a tv nearby. His pulse spiked and he clung to the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were leeched of all color. He couldn’t seem to get enough air and he vaguely wondered if Jimin was going to come back to find him dead from asphyxiation or something.

The passenger door opened again and Taehyung looked over in vague relief. “Tae? Are you okay?” Jimin looked over at him in alarm. “You look like you’re losing your shit.”

“Just about. Let’s go,” Taehyung answered, his voice strained.

Jimin closed the door and they took to the road again, this time, looking for the shittiest motel they could possibly find. Taehyung pulled into one and let Jimin go pay for the room. When he came out of the motel office with the key to their room, Taehyung pulled himself out of the driver’s side, cleaning the steering wheel of blood, checking to make sure that there was nothing they’d left in the car, not even a fingerprint, and throwing the keys on the seat, locking the car behind them. They wouldn’t be using it again.

The motel reminded Taehyung of the one he’d woken up in less than 24 hours ago. There was only one bed. Jimin dropped the plastic bags he’d gotten from the store onto the mattress and looked warily at Taehyung.

Without thinking, Taehyung walked forward and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Jimin stiffened for a long moment. Finally, he felt Jimin relax into his frame and he released a heavy sigh when Jimin’s arms wound around him, holding him just as tightly. He hadn’t realized he was shaking until it slowed and stopped. “I never thought I would see you again,” Taehyung murmured. Jimin’s arms tightened once around him and he felt him nod in agreement. They stayed like that for a long moment, clinging to each other before Taehyung finally released him.

Jimin looked at him. “You’re a mess, Tae. I have no idea how we’re gonna get the blood out of your jeans. I bought a lot of bleach and some peroxide. I don’t know which will work best. But we’d better soak them now and try to get the stains out.” Jimin’s voice was soft, methodical. He pulled Taehyung’s jacket from his frame and laid it beside the bags on the bed, then pulled the blood covered shirt from his friend’s body. Taehyung felt like a child again, like the first time he’d met him. He smiled down at Jimin. Jimin reached for Taehyung's jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them down his legs. “Come on,” Jimin said quietly, leading him into the bathroom. He made Taehyung sit on the toilet then turned on the shower and walked back into the hotel room to rustle through one of the plastic bags. When he came back, he had soap, shampoo, and a package of briefs in his hands. He tested the water, nodding when he was satisfied. “Get in.”

Taehyung got into the shower and let the spray pound down on his shoulders, over his abdomen which was still streaked with dried blood that had seeped through his shirt. The water swirled pink into the drain. Much like earlier that night though, Taehyung scrubbed and scrubbed at his skin. And though the blood was gone, he still felt like he was filthy. He’d washed himself completely twice before he finally gave up and started on his hair. When he shut off the shower, he stood there for a moment, trying to breathe normally. He felt like he’d been catching his breath since Jimin had shown up.

“Jiminie? What were you doing in that bar? Who was that man?” Taehyung asked quietly, finally stepping out of the tub and taking the towel that Jimin offered to him.

Jimin studied his expression for a moment then looked away, his face haunted. “Tomorrow,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you tomorrow. I’m just so glad that you were there…I’m so glad I found you.” Taehyung pulled some briefs from the package and slid them on, then switched positions with Jimin, sitting on the toilet so that he wouldn’t be alone in the shower. Old habit. Jimin finally stepped out and dried himself, leaving the water running from the tap in the tub. “Bring me the clothes. I have to see if we can get the stains out.”

Taehyung did as his friend bade him then sat in silence while Jimin scrubbed at the clothes with detergent, peroxide, and bleach, watching him. He still wasn’t completely convinced that Jimin was actually there. He stood and walked into the hotel room, looking through his jacket for his cigarettes, stuffing one between his lips and lighting it, then going back to the bathroom where Jimin was still scrubbing. He sat on the toilet again, watching him work. The water in the tub was stained red with the moderate amount of blood that he’d managed to get out of the clothes. The jeans were nearly a lost cause, but Jimin scrubbed anyway.

Finally he gave up and rinsed the garments off, hanging them over the shower rod to dry and turning back to Taehyung. He held his hand out. Taehyung blinked in confusion. Jimin rolled his eyes then pulled the cigarette from between Taehyung's lips and put it between his own. “Let’s go drink,” Jimin said softly, holding his hand out again, this time in offering. Taehyung took it and allowed himself to be led out into the hotel room again. They both sat down on the bed. As Jimin wrenched the top from a bottle of soju, he said, “We’re going to have to buy new clothes tomorrow. And we need a car. We have to get out of here.”

Taehyung took a long pull from the small green bottle, hissing as the alcohol burned down his throat. He took his cigarette back from Jimin, taking a drag. “Do you think we’ll be safe for the night?” he asked. Jimin looked up at him, his expression exhausted and somewhat haunted.

“I really hope so,” he whispered, taking the cigarette back from Taehyung’s fingers and finishing it.

They drank in comfortable silence for a long moment. “I’ve never killed someone before,” Taehyung said finally, his voice low.

Jimin peered over at him. “Are…you okay?”

Taehyung laughed bitterly. “No.” He took another drink from the bottle. “But, I guess it was good practice.”

“Practice?” Jimin’s face was beginning to flush just the smallest bit as the alcohol seeped into his system.

“For the men who killed my family.” Taehyung’s voice was low and fierce.

Jimin stared at him for a long moment. “We can’t take them on right now, Taehyung. I’m telling you we can’t.”

Taehyung raised a brow and downed what remained in his bottle. “How would you know?”

Jimin’s full lips mashed into a thin line and he looked away. “Tomorrow. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Jimin crawled over the bed closer to where Taehyung was sitting at the headboard and curled himself into his lap, resting his head against Taehyung’s shoulder. Instinctively, Taehyung wrapped his arms around him. “I’m having a very hard time believing that you’re actually here. How long has it been since I’ve seen you? 6 years?”

“8,” Taehyung answered automatically.

Jimin looked up at him. “Wow…” He looked back down at his hands again. “Time really flies when you’re in captivity,” he said with a bitter chuckle. Alarmed, Taehyung looked down at him but Jimin just shook his head with a sad smile. “Let’s sleep, okay? I’m exhausted.”

Taehyung agreed to this. The day had been long and filled with far too much bullshit. Jimin slid off his lap and crawled beneath the covers then turned off the light and reached for him. Taehyung slipped beneath the scratchy blankets beside Jimin, facing him. Jimin watched him, his dark eyes intent on the Taehyung's features, drinking in the sight of him. “I really never thought I would see you again, Jiminie,” Taehyung repeated, his voice soft and awed.

Jimin’s small, soft hand came to rest on Taehyung’s cheek, slowly caressing the skin there with his thumb. Taehyung’s eyes slid shut and he sighed in something close to contentment. “I missed you, Tae.” Jimin's voice was barely audible. When Taehyung opened his eyes again, Jimin was staring at him almost reverently, as though he was a miracle.

Slowly, he drew closer, pressing his lips gently to Taehyung’s. Taehyung kissed him back almost automatically and Jimin drew away again. He curled up against Taehyung, burrowing closer to his throat and slipping his fingers between Taehyung’s, holding tightly. He sighed and they didn’t speak anymore. Soon, he was asleep. Taehyung looked down at him. It wasn’t the first time they’d kissed. And it had never meant anything before this. Jimin had always been affectionate in that way and Taehyung had never minded it before. It had been 8 years since Jimin had kissed him. He hadn’t expected anything to change.

But he was wrong.

His heart had pounded loudly in his ears and something in his stomach had tightened just the slightest bit, nerves, he guessed. Taehyung wrapped his arms tightly around him and pulled him closer, burying his face in Jimin’s soft hair and allowing exhaustion to pull him under.

❖ ❖ ❖

“Why the fuck am I playing with you if you aren’t going to fucking heal? That’s your job!” Jungkook shouted into the headset in disgust. He watched the computer screen as his team lost – again. “Fucking amateurs,” he snarled into the mic and logged off, slamming the chair back against the desk in disgust. The gamers around him paid him no attention as he walked up the aisle towards the door to leave the PC room.

He blinked out into the sunlight, somewhat confused. He hadn’t been home in almost 2 days, not since he and his father had gotten into yet another argument. He sighed and headed up toward the bus stop, heading for home. It was time for him and his father to make up anyway.

The house was eerily silent when he went inside. He automatically assumed that it was due to his father being passed out drunk – again. Or maybe out gambling – again. He closed the door behind him and walked deeper into the house, not bothering to take off his shoes. There was an odd odor, something like spoiled food. Jungkook walked into the kitchen and saw just that, a plate of food that looked as though it had just been warmed up but smelled like it had been sitting for at least 48 hours. He frowned.

His father didn’t normally leave food out.

Maybe he was on another bender.

Shrugging, Jungkook walked to his room. He stepped on something as he opened the door and walked inside. His frown deepened when he saw that it was an envelope. Jungkook slid his fingers underneath the flap and pulled it open. Inside was an almost ridiculous amount of money and a folded slip of paper that had three words on it.

Run. They’re coming.

Gunshots rang out further up the hall and Jungkook instinctively hit the floor, dropping the envelope as he crouched, his heart slamming into his ribcage as the front door was kicked open.

“We don’t like waiting, Jeon,” said a very loud, very angry, very unfamiliar voice. His pulse spiked in his chest. “We’ve been waiting for far too long. Where the fuck is our money?”

“I don’t think he’s here, man. I think he took off.” Another voice, higher and more reedy than the first. Another bout of gunshots rang out in the house once more and Jungkook felt his knees turn to water. He looked quickly towards his open bedroom door and was damn near certain that he was going to piss himself. He saw the shadows of the men walking further into the house.

“Fucking gross, look at this.” The men must have gotten to the kitchen and seen the plate of spoiled food.

Jungkook grabbed the envelope, got to his feet as quickly and quietly as he could, and padded softly over to his bedroom window. He hoped against everything that his window wouldn’t squeak. Hope apparently wasn’t on his side. The window squealed lowly as he lifted it open. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“Did you hear that?” The reedy voice.

Jungkook shoved the window open more quickly.

“What the fuck is that? Is that bitch in this house still?” The deep voice.

Jungkook stuck his foot out of the window, shoving the window higher so he could get his head out.

“Hey, Jeon, if you run it’ll be worse!” The reedy voice again. The man was laughing. Jungkook felt nausea roil heavily in his stomach and he stepped out of the grass, grateful, not for the first time, that the house was only one story. As soon as his other foot touched the grass, he took off, running as fast as he possibly could.

Run. They’re coming.

Jungkook stared at the setting sun. “Fuck you,” he said to no one in particular.

Run. They’re coming.

Jungkook ran.

Jungkook ran for a long time. He ran through the streets, almost upending people, until his lungs were positively shrieking with exertion and he was certain that he would never be able to catch his breath again. He all but fell over as he leaned down to catch his breath, his hair plastered to his forehead with perspiration and his heart pounding fast and hard in his chest. He rested his hands on his knees as he panted, leaving his throat dry and ragged.

He looked over his shoulder, his nerves still on edge. He was expecting to see two men racing after him but saw only the normal hustle and bustle of the streets. No one who looked suspicious and horrifying, no one wielding a gun, no one looking at him, save a few people who were wondering why he was so out of breath and why he wasn't moving on the sidewalk.

Jungkook tried to gather himself, still panting, and straightened, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders and shoving the small envelope in his pockets. He tried very hard to look normal as he fell into the throngs of people crossing the street. His mind looped only one thought: what the fuck.

This was just absurd. He hadn't exactly always been a model citizen, sure. But he'd never done anything bad enough to warrant having people try to kill him before. Never.

So, running for his life was new.

He wasn't keen on making that a habit. He got to the other side of the street and quickly found a restaurant to slip into. He didn't actually have an appetite but he needed to figure out a plan because he didn't know what the fuck was going on. He walked quickly to a table in the far back corner of the restaurant and sat, facing the door just in case. Jungkook felt jittery and unnerved as he pulled the thick envelope from his pocket.

He peered within. The stack of bills was thick, easily a few mil in cash.

That scared the living shit out of him.

His family hadn't been entirely destitute necessarily but they had definitely never had money like this, especially not with his father blowing it all on liquor and gambling.

His father…

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and hurriedly dialed his father’s number.

We're sorry. The caller you are trying to reach is not available. Please try again later.

Not available.

That wasn't good. That wasn't good at all.

Jungkook was rarely unable to reach his father…even if his father’s general reception was always gruff. He called again, something like panic rising in his stomach now. We're sorry. The caller you are trying to reach is not available. Please try again later.

Where the fuck was his father?

Jungkook stayed in the restaurant for a few hours, trying to reach his father, eventually drawing the ire of some of the staff. The manager of the restaurant began to walk toward him, a polite customer service smile plastered on his face.

Jungkook wasn't interested in bullshitting with the older man so he grabbed his backpack, shoved the envelope down to the very bottom, slung it over his shoulder and quickly walked out of the restaurant, staring pointedly at the manager with an annoyed grimace as he shoved roughly at the door.

His life had just gone up in smoke and some bitch manager was worried about not being able to use the damn table? Fuck everyone. Jungkook ground his teeth and resolved to hunt.

What he was hunting for, he wasn't sure yet. A fight maybe. Or sex even. Whether in bed or on the street corner, he needed to bruise some skin and vent his anger. One way or the other, someone was going to have to deal with him tonight.

The best place to find either was at a place with alcohol so that's what he started looking for. He walked at a leisurely pace yet still managed to glare at anyone who caught his eye. People shrank away from him.

Jungkook was aware of his presence. He was tall and years of fighting with his father, his older brother, and random people on the streets had left him muscular. His piercings and plugs - small, yes, but very there - made him look like a troublemaker, a thug. He also knew he had a baby face, something he'd never grown out of and probably never would. It led to people thinking he was weak or easily taken down - which, inevitably, led to more fights. And Jungkook rarely lost.

He slouched down a familiar alley and turned the corner. There was a club there, an extremely popular one. Club Hope blared a pink and blue neon sign attached to the otherwise nondescript beige building. It was skeevy and popular and worth every single cent. There were no windows and security was always tight. He walked up to the door, ignoring the people waiting in the (long as fuck) line, and looked at the bouncer and his assistant.

The assistant looked up. He was a wiry kid, the same age as Jungkook, with wide eyes and a mischievous smirk that always made him look much more sly than he actually was. The assistant grimaced at him, hurriedly flipping through a clipboard he was holding, then looking back up at Jungkook.

“No, Kook. The last time you got in here, you almost sent people out of it in fucking body bags. Not again tonight,” the kid said.

“Gyeom, don't do this. You know how much I hate the word ‘no’,” Jungkook said, rolling his eyes. The beefy bouncer beside Yugyeom rolled his shoulders in a way that was supposed to be intimidating but only made Jungkook snicker.

“Kook, the fucking boss is here tonight. The fucking boss. Do you know how much trouble I'll get into if I let you in?” Yugyeom said, trying for firm but coming out only somewhat tremulous and irritated. “I actually fucking like this job so fuck off, okay?”

Jungkook took a step closer. Yugyeom, to his credit, didn't seem cowed at all. “Gyeommie, listen,” Jungkook said softly, just loudly enough for the two of them to hear. “We've been friends for a long time. But I've had a shit day. All I need right now is a fucking target. I won't get you in trouble, but I will kick your ass if you don't move aside.”

Yugyeom stared at him for a long moment, not in fear, more in confusion and hesitance. Jungkook stared back, trying to nonverbally make it clear exactly how much he'd meant every syllable. Finally, Yugyeom sighed and looked away, stepping aside to let him enter. “Don't get blood on the fucking floors, Jungkook. It's bad for business,” he said in a monotone.

Jungkook gave him a quick nod and stepped inside the building.

Inside, he was swallowed by darkness and neon, which helped the last of the tension release from his shoulders. He gave himself a moment to let his eyes adjust then allowed himself to be lost in the heavy bass of the hip hop music that was thrumming through the speakers and shaking his very bones. He walked the familiar path to the bar on the top floor. He slid into the stool at the far left and and ordered his usual Long Island.

The bartender gave him a stern look as he put down the cocktail but said nothing. Jungkook took a sip and looked around the bar, scanning the people packed into the confines.

The club was large with two floors, the top floor being where the entrance was. To the left of the entrance was the bar Jungkook was currently sitting at, outlined in bright blue and pink light like every other plane in the architecture of the club itself. The lights were along every wall and along the floors, leaving everything cast in a dreamy purple glow. There were tables and booths around, mostly by the bar, that were filled with people, men in sunglasses (as though the venue wasn't dark enough; fuck, people were pretentious), women in dramatic makeup and uncomfortable-looking heels. The light bounced off the sequins in their dresses, lighting them with soft lilac. The top floor overlooked the bottom. A long glass banister stopping the inebriated and high-heeled from falling down onto the large, lit dance floor below.

Jungkook watched a group of giggling girls make their way down the staircase to the right of the entrance. One of them nearly fell and her friends hoisted her up with more giggles. They must have been fucking smashed.

Jungkook, however, was not. And that was a problem for him. He turned back to the bartender and ordered another Long Island. He finished that one much faster than he'd finished the first. He wasn't tipsy…not yet. But he was definitely aware that he'd been drinking by this point.

He ordered a few shots, knocking them back far too quickly for him to actually count how many or even what they were. He felt himself weaving slightly. Perfect. The scent of cigarette smoke invaded his nostrils as the person beside him decided to light up. Jungkook grimaced and stood. Getting his limbs beneath him required more concentration than he thought should really be necessary but he didn't stumble.

The music that was thrumming through the club was heavy and pounding and Jungkook felt like he needed to move to it. He walked towards the banister, looking down over the undulating mass of people, looking for someone who he wanted to dance with. Overwhelmingly, the crowd seemed to blend together for him, a mass of gyrating shadow, lit from below by the LED tiles on the dancefloor in a dreamlike, pale purple haze. They jumped, rolled, moved as one, an ocean of flesh. He walked down the steps slowly, rapaciously eyeing the crowd, looking for the one.

He found her.

She was tall, only a bit shorter than him. Her hair was shiny and fell about her face in a black curtain. It stopped at a blunt edge just above her shoulders, which were exposed in a thin, black halter top. Her skirt was short, accentuating her long legs. Her shoes weren't heeled - something that made Jungkook smirk. She was there to dance.

The girl seemed to finally notice him as he got to the dancefloor. Her eyes were small but dramatically lined, making her look like a cat. She had a small nose and pouty, full lips painted a deep berry red that made Jungkook lick his own. She gave him a slow once over then cocked a brow at him in question but he was already making his way over. When he got to her, she gave him a small smile and began to move.

His kinda girl.

She fit against him perfectly, matched his moves fluidly as water. When the music changed, became slower, more sensual, she moved closer to him without hesitation, her back resting against his chest, her hand over his where it rested on her hip. The fingers of her free hand tangled in his for a moment before she threw her arm backward and around his neck, holding him closer.

Sex it was then.

Jungkook could smell her perfume, something spicy and vaguely floral. His mouth watered, wondering what her skin would taste like. He leaned his head down just a bit, his lips just brushing her throat. He heard her gasp softly and her movements stuttered for the first time that night. She recovered quickly, pressing back against him more firmly so he could feel every curve of her body.

When the song shifted again, she pulled away from him and turned then leaned close again. “I'm getting a drink,” she said into his ear. Her voice was soft and vaguely husky. Sexy. He nodded and followed her off the floor, heading for the second bar to the left of the dancefloor, right beneath the one on the top floor, Jungkook estimated. “Shots?” she said to him once they'd gotten stools. She liked being in the corner too. He nodded mutely and signaled the bartender.

When he'd ordered their shots, she leaned close to him. “What's your name?” She didn't shout to be heard over the music, rather moved closer to speak into his ear. He was hit with the scent of her perfume again.

“What's yours?” he countered.

She pulled back and smirked at him just as the shots were put in front of them. They reached for the shot glasses and took them down in one. She was the one who signaled for the bartender another round this time.

When they'd downed those shots too, she leaned close to him again, resting a hand on his thigh as if to keep her balance. “Yuna,” she murmured, lingering just a little bit too long so close to him.

Jungkook swallowed.

When Yuna made to pull back, he took hold of her wrist, holding her in place. “You're a pretty good dancer,” he said with a smirk. He could practically feel her smile.

“I know,” she breathed.

He allowed her to back away just the slightest bit, still holding her close. She licked her lips and he wondered what she would feel like pressed against him.

Yuna studied his expression for a long moment then said, “You should kiss me.”

Jungkook raised a brow but obliged her, leaning over to press his lips against hers, skipping gentility because he needed his own kind of release tonight.

Her lips against his felt nice but stirred nothing in him, only amplified his need to fuck his own frustrations away. Just as she was tilting her head to deepen the kiss further, he felt a sharp, painful tug on the back of his head, someone yanking him roughly backward by his hair.

Dazed, he looked back to see who it was that had grabbed him so roughly and saw a shorter guy, all biceps and heavy breathing. “What the fuck, Yuna?” he shrieked at the girl, who'd gone very red. “Him? This scrawny he-bitch is who you're replacing me with?! Me?” The guy was jabbing his finger into the girl’s face and she was beginning to look more and more uneasy.

“Back off,” Jungkook said quietly. Yuna turned to him, looking as though she was going to speak but Jungkook completely ignored her.

“Mind your business, bitch. This is between me and Yuna,” the guy snarled, poking Jungkook’s chest for emphasis.

“I said, fucking back off,” Jungkook repeated, sliding off his stool and adjusting his backpack on his shoulders.

It seemed that he would be fighting instead of fucking tonight. Made no difference to him. Yuna was already forgotten. “Why don't you make me, pretty boy? What’re you gonna do, huh? Cry at me? Fuck off.” The guy patted Jungkook’s cheeks for emphasis and that pissed him off to no end. Condescension he could bear (barely) but touching his face? No. Not acceptable.

Jungkook cocked his arm back and punched him. A whoosh of air left the man’s mouth when Jungkook’s fist connected with his jaw. Someone behind him screamed. Jungkook took no notice. The man was still standing, weaving slightly, looking dazed. He shook himself and when he looked at Jungkook again, his eyes were clear. He was furious.

Jungkook was a head taller than the man but the man was stockier, a pitbull of a man, seeming to be nothing but pure muscle.


It would be a good fight.

The man charged towards him, hitting him hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs. Jungkook stumbled backward, bumping roughly into flesh behind him but he didn't look back to see whose it was. The man clamped thick arms around him, trying to overbalance him and throw him to the floor, but Jungkook held fast, bending over the man and landing two heavy punches to the man's side before the man backed off with groan. He shook himself again then punched Jungkook square in the nose, making him see stars for just the briefest moment. The guy punched him again, this time in the stomach, then again just beneath the ribs.

Jungkook felt something warm hit his upper lip and frowned in confusion, reaching up to touch. When he pulled his fingers away, they were a very vibrant shade of red. For a moment, he was confused; he'd never known that blood could be that red. But, only for a moment.

That fucking asshole had made him bleed.

Fury rocked through his frame heavily enough to send him stumbling backwards, his body suddenly aflame with the need to hurt.

“…teach you to mind you fucking business and stay the fuck away from my girl, you bitch,” the man was snarling at him, as though he'd won. Cocky little fuck.

Jungkook moved so quickly that he wasn't sure that anyone could see it. He grabbed the front of the man's shirt and lifted him off the ground then threw him back into a wall of flesh, into the people crushing each other to get to the bar.

The man’s head bounced when it hit the ground and he looked completely stunned, unable to do much more than try to catch his breath.

Jungkook was on top of him in an instant, punching at his face again and again and again, his fists sinking into soft skin and brittle bone. He kept thinking of the spoiled food in his house, his father’s meal gone completely sour and inedible. For some reason, this infuriated him more than anything else.

The man had recovered slightly and was struggling to get a hold on the boy above him. Jungkook punched him again, hearing his nose make an odd crack and blood spilled from it in torrents, getting all over them both.

The man was trying to talk, it seemed, but Jungkook didn't care, couldn't hear him. He grabbed the man's collar again and lifted his head only to slam it back on the lit dance floor tiles, once, twice.

People around him were screaming. Someone shouted to call the cops. Someone was behind him, sobbing, begging him to stop before he killed the man. Someone screamed for security. People were grabbing at him, trying to pull him away but none of them seemed strong enough to overcome his own adrenaline and anger.

Jungkook heard and felt none of this, only beat at the man’s face in an almost robotic fashion, wondering maniacally how much more he would have to go before he split the skin and got to bone, wondered how hard he would have to punch to crack the skull. Two of the man's teeth lay jagged and white and broken on the floor beside him, painted red with blood and lit with dreamy lilac light, making everything feel unreal. The man made an odd gurgling noise and gave up trying to push Jungkook away. He might have passed out, but Jungkook didn't know or care.

A strong hand hefted him backward by his hair and he yelped at the unexpected sensation as two beefy arms clamped around him and lifted him off the man. He kicked forward and hit the man’s chin, making his head snap upward sharply. For a wild moment, Jungkook hoped he'd fucking killed him.

“Fucking let me go!” he screamed, struggling against the vice-like grip that held him fast, kicking out again, hoping to hit the man again but he was being carried away and the man was too far away now. Yuna bent over the man, gently touching the blood-covered ruin his face had become, tears streaming down her own face, running black over her cheeks. Her dramatic and pretty makeup seemed to be melting now. Jungkook didn't know why but he found this extremely funny. She looked over at him in abject horror as he was carried away but he was laughing too hard to see it.

He was carried up to the second floor. He saw now that there was a person in front of whomever was holding him up, someone he was easily taller than, someone thin, not at all muscular. The person had brown hair, lighter than Jungkook’s own by a shade or two. The man looked back at the person holding Jungkook up. He was smoking a cigarette…or at least, something that looked like a cigarette. It didn't smell like one. “Take care of this. Put it in the room. I'll deal with it later,” the man said to Jungkook’s captor. He flicked his eyes to Jungkook once in pure disgust then pulled a gun from a holster under his shoulder.

As fast as lightning, the man struck Jungkook across the temple with the gun. Jungkook went limp. His last thought was that it was very odd to be smoking such a floral cigarette in such a shitty club, then his vision clouded with inky black and he fell into unconsciousness.

❖ ❖ ❖

Min Yoongi had a good life.

He worked with his best friend. He got to do a job he loved. He had a partner who satisfied his every need. And he didn't have an alarm to wake him up so he could sleep as long as he wanted to.

He opened his eyes with a smile and stretched, trying to feel the satin sheets on every centimeter of his form. He sat upright, scrubbing his hands over his face and taking stock of things.

He was alone. He heard the shower running and could only assume that's where his partner was. There was an upended champagne bottle on the dark wooden floor. Some of the pale gold liquid within had spilled on the floor. A thick pink hoodie had been tossed in the pile near the bottle along with a lacy white thong and the liquid was soaking into both. He smirked. Last night had been a good night. He had a feeling that today would be even better.

The shower turned off just as he reached over to his right and grabbed the heavy crystal ashtray from his bedside table. There was a half a joint left there and he lit it with the silver lighter beside it, inhaling deep.

His eyes flicked to the bathroom door when it opened, a puff of fragrant steam leaving the bathroom just as he exhaled the smoke.

A tall man walked out of the bathroom, tying the straps on a fluffy, pink bathrobe. He shook out his damp hair, honey-blonde with dark roots, and shoved it back, away from his face. The man was beautiful. He turned his large, deep brown eyes on Yoongi. His full lips pulled up into a smile and he walked over to the bed where Yoongi lay, still tangled in the deep red satin of the sheets. “Did you save some for me?” he purred, climbing up the bed and straddling Yoongi with a smile. The man was taller than him, which should have made the position awkward but he just bent down to rest his lips against Yoongi’s throat, nipping just a little too hard to be considered playful.

“Of course,” Yoongi replied, inhaling smoke from the joint again. The man straightened on his lap, looking curiously down at him. When Yoongi puckered his lips to exhale in a steady stream, the man bent low to inhale. Yoongi smirked up at him as he exhaled. The man’s eyes slid shut in something close to bliss and Yoongi’s smirk widened into a smile. He took another hit then held the joint up to his lover’s lips. The proffered joint was ignored and instead the man leaned down and pressed his soft lips to Yoongi’s, inhaling the smoke as their lips moved slowly together.

When he pulled away, he exhaled the remaining smoke from his own mouth. “Much better,” he murmured, smiling wide and perfect. He leaned down to kiss Yoongi again, melting into his body almost immediately.

Yoongi put the roach of the joint into the ashtray and wrapped his arms around the man in his lap. “Mmm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly. “You smell good.”

“Of course I do,” the man retorted, smirking. “Showers do that, genius.”

Yoongi grimaced and made to push the man off of him. “Kim Seokjin being an asshole as usual. What else is new? Get off me,” he grunted, shoving at Jin’s thighs.

Jin snickered and wrapped his arms tight around Yoongi’s neck, planting soft kisses on the skin there, carding his fingers slowly through Yoongi’s black hair. Jin hummed against his neck, moving closer, grinding down on his lap minutely. Yoongi exhaled slowly, tightening his grip on his lover’s waist, turning his head to capture his full lips with his own, eliciting a small sound from the back of Jin’s throat.

Yoongi untied the bathrobe and slid his hands along the smooth, soft skin of Jin’s thighs, making him shiver and cling tighter to Yoongi. He bit gently on Jin's full bottom lip, their tongues meeting languidly. Jin moaned and ground against Yoongi again, making the kiss desperate.

Yoongi changed their positions, rolling so that Jin was beneath him. The bathrobe fell open, revealing an expanse of soft, creamy, golden skin, fragrant and warm from the shower. In an effort to rid Jin of his bathrobe, he nearly ripped it - which would have made Jin very pouty. He threw the garment to the floor and looked down over Jin’s body, taking in the softly toned musculature of his chest and abdomen, the plush thighs which led to slim hips and long, smooth legs, currently bent at the knees to accommodate Yoongi’s body. He was already hard, his cock flushed and leaking across his stomach. His skin still bore deep purple bruises from last night.

Jin reached a hand up to touch Yoongi’s cheek for just a moment, then pulled him down into a heated kiss. “You just got out of the shower,” Yoongi pointed out between meetings of their lips.

“Mmm, so dirty me up again,” Jin breathed.

Yoongi moved his lips from Jin’s to his throat, biting down none too gently on the pulse point there. Jin moaned and arched into his body, breathing his name. Yoongi reached across Jin’s body for the other bedside table. He fumbled around it for a moment, still suckling a bruise into Jin’s throat, then pulled out a blue bottle of lube. Jin whimpered beneath him. “Yoongi…Yoongi, hurry up…” He rolled his hips against his lover's body, grinding his dick on Yoongi’s thigh, seeking friction.

Yoongi warmed the slightly cool liquid on his fingers for just a moment before he pulled away from Jin entirely. He roughly spread his lover's legs wide. Jin was still grinding against nothing, his stomach slick with precum and a slight sheen of sweat. “Y…Yoongi…tell me I'm pretty, tell me,” he panted.

For a moment, Yoongi did nothing but admire the man beneath him. Jin enjoyed soft things and that included his own body. He was completely hairless save what was on top of his head and he preferred it that way. Yoongi didn't care one way or the other, as long as his princess was happy. With one slick finger, he teased his rim, smirking when the slight contact made Jin whimper. “Such a pretty little hole. So tight and pretty for me,” Yoongi cooed. Jin’s cock dribbled more precum as he moaned, spreading his legs even wider to provide better access.

“Fucking touch me already or I'll do it myself,” Jin demanded.

Yoongi smirked. “Then do it. Let me see you stretch that pretty hole,” he answered smugly.

“But I want you to touch me,” Jin whined, his breathing heavy, his beautiful face crumbling into a petulant pout. “Oppa, please…”

Those words shot down Yoongi’s spine like lightning but he didn't relent. “Let Oppa see you, princess.” His voice was deeper than normal as he said this. “Let Oppa see you and I'll make you feel good.”

Jin reached for the lube himself, coated his fingers in it, then immediately reached between his legs and pushed two fingers into himself. He threw his head back into the pillows, adjusting his angle so that he was more comfortable, thrusting his fingers deeper. Yoongi watched this with his bottom lip between his teeth, a mild sort of fascination taking over his features, as his lover scissored his fingers, trying to stretch himself more quickly. Jin moaned his name, almost a plea, and Yoongi stilled his lover’s hand with his own, pulling at his wrist. Jin made a noise of contentment and obliged, moving his fingers.

Yoongi pressed his fingers into him, curling them within him and brushing his prostate. Jin’s toes curled. “Fuck…right…oh my god, right there,” he whimpered. He reached for Yoongi needily, pulling his lips down onto his own, their teeth clashing in his desperation. He moaned when Yoongi's fingers brushed his center, clenching tight around them.

“Oppa…I need…” he panted, his brows furrowed in pleasure.

“What do you need, princess? Hmm? Tell me what you need,” Yoongi crooned.

Jin squirmed beneath him, looking up at him, his eyes blown wide with lust. “F…fuck…Oppa, fuck me…”

Yoongi smirked and was leaning down to kiss him again when his phone rang. There was silence for a beat then he rolled over to pick it up. Jin groaned in frustration and sat up, pouting. Yoongi shot him an apologetic look and said, “Hello?”

“Hey, Yoongi,” came a deep, somewhat distracted sounding voice. “How's the day off?”

Yoongi grinned. “Not bad, Joon. Or it wasn't until you called me. You'd better have a good reason.”

His best friend chuckled. “Oh, I'm absolutely certain you'll find this completely worth it.”

Yoongi reached into the table and pulled out a small baggie and some papers. “Alright so I'm guessing this is a status report,” he said quietly, his fingers deftly rolling another joint as he spoke.

“Definitely. We were losing money in Buk-gu,” Namjoon said, his voice sour.

“I noticed. Just as we were getting a foothold out here too,” Yoongi said with equal disdain. “I fucking hate when people undo my work.” He licked at the adhesive on the paper then finished the joint. He looked over at Jin, who was still pouting, and gave the man a soft smile.

“Me too. But, I've had a few of my guys on it in the last week or so.” Namjoon’s voice was filled with humor now.

Yoongi perked up at this, placing the joint between his lips. “Oh? Do tell.”

Namjoon chuckled and Yoongi heard a small thump, like he was setting something down. Knowing Namjoon, it was probably a heavy ass portfolio filled with facts and figures that only he had the brains to figure out. It was all Greek to Yoongi. Namjoon was the genius. He was just the muscle. “Let’s see…lemme look over my numbers.” Yoongi had been right. He lit the joint and took a puff before passing it to Jin.

He was met with a vision of his lover holding up two different dildos - one the vibrated and one that did not - as if in decision. Yoongi swallowed hard and his neglected erection was suddenly all he could think about as Jin chose the one that vibrated - of course he fucking did - and started to work his fingers into himself again. Jin looked over at him, his full lips pulled up into a smug smile. He took the joint from Yoongi, still pumping his fingers into himself, letting out little mewls of pleasure as he inhaled from the joint at his lips then blew the smoke out in a stream in Yoongi’s face and handed it back to him, the smug smile still on his lips.

Yoongi took the joint and looked away from him. He was a distraction. “So, we figured out where the money was going. We've got some pests that need to be exterminated,” Namjoon said finally, still sounding distracted. Yoongi, however, had perked up at the word “exterminated”. That was code and Yoongi loved what it meant. Namjoon had found the person who'd been squirreling their money away and they were going to be punished for their betrayal.

“Pests?” he said slowly, his voice a deep rumble, looking over at Jin again. His lover was sliding the dildo into his ass, slowly, as if to let Yoongi see every centimeter disappear inside him. “Are we calling an exterminator or are you handling it yourself?” Are we going to have one of our men kill him or are you going to?

“You know how much I hate dealing with shit like that, man,” Namjoon said leisurely. “I was hoping you would do it actually. I don't really have the time today. I'm on cleanup.”

Yoongi’s lips curled into a dangerous smile and Jin moaned, looking at him as he pumped the dildo into himself. “Turn it on,” Yoongi ordered him and Jin obliged, turning it on full power, throwing his head back into the mattress and whimpering Yoongi’s name.

“Turn what on?” Namjoon sounded confused.

“Sorry, I was talking to Jinnie,” Yoongi answered, smoking as he watched his lover fuck himself, the low drone of the vibrator muffled by the sound of his whimpers. “Yeah, I can take care of them for you. Which building is it that's infested?” Yes, I can kill him. Which building are we using to get rid of him?

“I'll let you know when I figure out which one,” Namjoon said breezily. “I'll be glad when this is over so we can turn a profit again.” Yoongi hummed in agreement. “Oh, how's my kitten?” Namjoon asked.

Yoongi looked over at Jin who'd abandoned the dildo and was now crawling over to Yoongi. He settled between Yoongi’s legs and started pulling at his sweatpants. Yoongi didn't make it easier on him, just allowed him to struggle with a haughty smile. Jin whined and pulled more firmly at the sweatpants, working them slowly down Yoongi’s body. When the sweatpants were somewhere around his calves, Jin made a sound of contentment and started kissing up Yoongi’s slim thighs.

Yoongi hummed. “Your kitten needs to behave himself while we're handling business.”

Namjoon laughed in his ear just as Jin bit down on his inner thigh. Yoongi inhaled sharply and Jin looked up at him, a devious grin on his face. His lips formed an O and he took Yoongi’s dick entirely in his mouth.

Fuck,” Yoongi groaned and stubbed out the joint.

“Is he sucking your dick right now?” Namjoon said, amused.

“I am going to absolutely destroy him,” Yoongi confirmed.

Namjoon laughed. “Fine, fine. Just don't wreck him too bad. He's sleeping with me tonight.”

“We'll meet you in Gangnam when I handle our pest problem down here,” Yoongi promised, his voice somewhat strained as Jin swallowed around the head of his cock.

“Perfect. I'll talk to you later.” Namjoon hung up and Yoongi threw his phone onto the bedside table. He quickly shifted his position so that he was on top of Jin again, holding him down by his wrists.

Jin grinned up at him, looking perfectly at ease. “You are extremely rude,” Yoongi snarled down at him, kicking off the sweatpants.

“You were taking too long, Oppa, and I want you inside me,” Jin snickered. “You promised you would make me feel good.” His face collapsed into another pout and Yoongi kissed him once, his lips insistent, rough on his lover’s.

“You want me to fuck you, princess?” Jin whimpered against his lips and nodded frantically, his wrists twitching with the need to touch Yoongi. “Hands and knees,” Yoongi ordered, pulling away from him entirely. Jin was quick to oblige him and Yoongi left open-mouthed kisses down the his spine, making him whimper. He straightened and quickly smacked Jin’s ass. Jin yelped. “You should know better,” Yoongi grunted, smacking the other cheek, leaving a red mark the shape of his hand on the golden skin. “Than to interrupt me.” Another smack, this one harder than the two previous. “When I am handling business.” Another smack. Jin was rocking his hips, seeking friction and finding none. He choked out a sob. “How the fuck.” Smack. “Do you think.” Smack. “We pay for your toys?” Smack.

“Oppa,” Jin panted, his voice thick and his hold shaky. “Please, if you keep going…I'm so fucking close…” Yoongi soothed the sore, red splotches with a hand then slid into him without warning, making him clench in surprise.

Yoongi grabbed Jin’s neck and shoved him down into the mattress with one hand and held both of his lover’s arms behind his back by the wrists with the other as he acclimated to the stretch. “If you come before I say you can, you'll regret it, princess,” Yoongi warned, his voice silky and edged with dark promise. Jin whimpered in response, unable to form words.

Yoongi took up a brutal pace then, pounding into Jin’s core, his breathing heavy as he chased his own release. Jin sobbed beneath him and Yoongi roughly shoved him further into the mattress, thrusting into him hard enough to make the headboard bang the wall.

Fuck, Yoongi…I…p…please…”

“I didn't say you could come yet,” Yoongi growled.

“Oppa…fuck, fuck…Yoongi, I'm so close…baby, please,” Jin sobbed.

Yoongi felt the familiar pressure pooling in his gut, heat shooting through his body, and he moaned. Jin hiccuped between his pleas and Yoongi looked down at him, seeing his lover’s beautiful face red with heat and arousal, his thick brows furrowed deeply in concentration and pleasure, trying to hold off his own release. Tears shone in the thick fringe of lashes and Yoongi murmured, “Come for me, princess. Come for Oppa.”

Jin’s body shook as he finally allowed his orgasm to overtake him, his body clenching as pleasure washed over him in a wave, screaming Yoongi’s name. Yoongi allowed the pressure in his gut to release and he came deep in Jin’s ass, finally releasing the his wrists and neck so he could hold fast to Jin’s waist as he coated the his walls.

Jin went entirely limp, falling to the bed in a heap, whimpering and panting. Yoongi sank onto the mattress, laying beside him, feeling loose and satiated. Neither of them spoke for a long moment. “You kept your promise,” Jin murmured at last.

Yoongi sat up, leaning back against the headboard, and reached for the joint he’d abandoned earlier. “What promise?”

“That you would make me feel good,” Jin replied, giving him an affectionate smile. Yoongi returned the smile and took a hit of the joint then passed it. “Thank you, Oppa.”

“Anything for you, princess,” Yoongi answered, taking the joint back. He hit it again before stubbing it out in the crystal ashtray once more.

“Did Daddy say something about ‘pests’? Do you have to work tonight?” Jin asked, adjusting his position so that he was facing Yoongi more comfortably. If his grimace was any indication, the movement took monumental effort.

“Yeah, I gotta work tonight.” Yoongi picked up his phone and saw that Namjoon had already called him again. He checked his voicemail and memorized the address that his friend had given him.

“Can I come?” Jin asked, a bit too casually.

Yoongi cocked a brow and looked over at him. “Again?”

“I wanna see,” Jin whined. “I don't wanna wait in the car like last time; it's fucking boring.”

Yoongi chuckled and leaned down to kiss him. “Yeah, okay. We'll leave in a bit.”

“Oppa?” Yoongi hummed in acknowledgement. “Can we go get more sheets? I really like the red ones but they keep getting stained.”

Yoongi chuckled again and nodded. “Anything for you, princess.”

As the sun was finally setting, the two left the house, slipping into a black SUV with a plush tan interior and a center console that looked like it would be more at home in a spaceship than a truck. The address Namjoon had given him was a half hour away. Jin used the time to sleep - they'd fucked again before they actually left the house - and Yoongi used the time to plan.

Yoongi’s favorite part of his job was not the money, although that was very nice. It wasn't the freedom to do what he wanted when he wanted, even though that was definitely a perk. It wasn't even that he got to work with Namjoon, his best friend. No.

Yoongi’s favorite part of his job was that he got to kill people.

There was something something sexual about violence to him, something violent about sex. Both were about invasion, intrusion, strength. And they were both inexplicably intimate. Plus, Yoongi was good at both. Namjoon was not necessarily a violent person. He only used it when he was left with no other option. It was just that running illegal vices throughout all of Seoul - and now Daegu - often left Namjoon with no other option. Some of the people whom Namjoon had so generously offered places to within Songgonni-pa to were apparently trying to undermine his and Namjoon’s efforts to control Daegu’s underbelly as well.

That was unacceptable.

No one crossed Namjoon.

Crossing Namjoon was like crossing Yoongi himself - and that was deadly.

Yoongi pulled into a small alleyway behind the empty warehouse and turned off the car. He looked over at his lover. “Jin.” Jin stirred slightly and woke. He was a light sleeper, had to be. He blinked sleepily at Yoongi and smiled. “We're here.”

Jin’s smile widened and he sat up. “Time to play?”

“Time to play.”

The warehouse was large and open. There were drains in the floor at intervals but the place had been empty for too long for them to serve their actual purpose anymore. The walls were windowless and grey, streaked with rust and grime. In the center of the dust-covered floor, there was a chair which held a slumped figure tied to it. In front of the slumped figure were a few extra chairs and scattered wooden palettes. Two broad and beefy men in black suits stood to the side, one scratching at his ear, the other shifting back and forth from one foot to the other. Both straightened their jackets and bowed low when Yoongi and Jin walked in, clasping their hands behind their backs.

The slumped figure in the chair seemed to jolt, shaking itself. Yoongi walked closer to the figure. It was a man. Beneath his nose was dried blood and his right eye seemed to be swelling, turning a nasty shade of purple. The man blinked, his gaze unfocused and somewhat dazed. He shook his head slightly and made a small sound of discomfort.

Yoongi squatted in front of the man, snapping his fingers in the man's face. The man flinched at the sharp sound. “Hey. You with me? Hey.”

The man opened his mouth and let out a sharp scream. Yoongi rolled his eyes at the noise and stood, punching the man hard across the face. “Shut up, Oh. It isn't like that's going to help,” Yoongi said in disgust.

“Besides, it's annoying,” Jin chimed in, sounding bored.

“See, all you have to do is give me the information I need,” Yoongi said softly.

“That isn't gonna stop you killing me so fuck you,” the man said, his voice shaky and contemptuous. His face reddened and his expression twisted into a grimace.

Yoongi nodded. “You're right. But…if you cooperate, I'll be the one to kill you instead of him,” he said, jabbing a thumb back in Jin’s direction. The man’s eyes flicked over to look at Jin - who gave him a beatific smile - then back to Yoongi. “So what’ll it be, Oh?”

The man stayed silent.

Yoongi tutted quietly. “What did you do with the money that you didn't return to us? Hmm? We can tell that all of it wasn't given to us.” The man bit his bottom lip and remained silent. Yoongi rolled his eyes and straightened, then landed another heavy blow on the side of the man’s face. The man yelped in surprise and pain, unconsciously straining against his bonds in an effort to cover the afflicted area. “I don't have all fucking night, Oh,” Yoongi said flatly. “And I can promise you that you would rather deal with me than him.”

“This ain't your territory, Min. It ain't your fucking territory. And I'm gonna get killed cuz I tried to cover your ass!” Oh spat, his words panicked.

Yoongi tilted his head to one side. “Cover my ass? That's what you were trying to do?”

Yes!” Oh howled.

“And how is stealing from me covering my ass, Oh?” Yoongi’s voice was low and dangerous.

“You may have been too busy getting rammed by your pink faggot over there to notice but this is fucking Spider’s territory!” Oh continued as though Yoongi hadn't spoken. “And you don't just steal someone else’s territory without paying for it, man!”

There was a nasty silence for a long moment. Finally, “What did you call me?” came Jin’s soft voice.

Yoongi tsked, shook his head, and took a few steps backward just as Jin stood from the chair he was sitting in, adjusting the large, fluffy, pink hoodie on his frame. He walked over to the man.

Oh trembled in the chair, looking as though he greatly regretted every syllable he'd just uttered. A slow trickle of urine hit the floor beneath Oh’s chair and Jin snorted. “Oppa?” Jin called without looking back.

“Yes, princess?”

Jin bent low before Oh, making sure to catch his eye. Oh stared back in mute horror. “I really hate that fucking word,” Jin murmured, his expression stony.

Jin reached into the pocket of his fluffy pink hoodie and pulled out a small, leather holster. Within, there was a small, sharp knife with a pink handle. Quick as lightning, Jin kicked out, upending the chair and sending it crashing backward. Oh cried out in surprise and groaned heavily when his head cracked upon the cold concrete of the floor. Jin straddled the prone figure, looking down at him in something close to wonder.

“What do you think makes you justified in using that word?” Jin asked softly. The man didn't answer, only stared at him with wide eyes. “What do you think makes a person gay, Oh?”

“You know damn well,” Oh said waspishly.

“You mean like sucking dick? That's it?” Jin questioned. The man had fallen into silence once more and said nothing. Jin stood finally and wrenched at Oh’s pants, yanking at them by the button. “Fine by me.”

“W-What are you doing? Get out of there!” Oh was far from happy with his circumstances as Jin slid the knife between the sensitive skin of Oh’s thighs and his jeans, cutting the fabric away skillfully. Jin repeated this process once more, clearing away the boxers, leaving the man entirely bare from the waist down.

He ran the flat of the knife along Oh’s thighs. “That's a really rude word, you know?” he said conversationally. “Oppa was just trying to be nice to you. You would have gotten a bullet to the head, quick and easy. No suffering.” Jin looked down at the man’s genitals. He laughed when he saw the man's testicles retreat in response to his terror. “But, see, you've got a fucking nasty mouth.” Jin’s voice became flat, his expression blank. He grabbed Oh’s penis and held the blade right at the bottom of the shaft. Oh shrieked and strained against the bonds of the chair which still held him completely immobile. “So, I'm gonna show you what Daddy does to me when I get too mouthy,” Jin concluded and began to saw, the deadly sharp blade slicing into the skin like butter.

Oh shrieked in agony as Jin cut and cut, slicing through muscle and blood vessels, leaving the member hanging in an obscene fashion against Oh’s thigh. Blood spurted out and misted over Jin’s face and clothes, sullying the white shirt Oh was wearing and pooling at his gut. Oh was crying, sobbing between screams and pleading, begging Jin to just stop.

With a final tug of the knife, the flaccid member came off in Jin’s hand and he held it aloft like a grisly trophy, blood running down his wrist and staining his hoodie. “Ha!” he said in triumph, looking backward at Yoongi, who gave him a fond smile that seemed out of place given Jin’s current gory state and the hysterical screaming of the man beneath him. Jin turned back to his work. “Since you didn't have the balls to call me that disgusting word to my face,” Jin said with a contemplative tilt of his head, “I see no reason why you should keep your actual balls either.”

Oh’s face was streaked with tears and mucus and he sobbed as Jin wielded the knife once more and started on the man’s testicles. He howled in agony as the knife slowly separated his testicles from his body. Oh blinked faintly, his face going deadly pale and sweaty, as though he was going to pass out at any moment. Jin saw this just as he removed the sac and tutted in disapproval. “Hey, Oh, stay with me. This is the best part,” he demanded, smacking at the man’s face sharply to get him to focus.

Oh keened, shaking his head slowly back and forth, sobbing brokenly. He worked his mouth to speak but didn't seem to be able to form words.

“‘Open wide, kitten’,” Jin said, mimicking a deeper register. Behind him, Yoongi snickered. “That's what Daddy says to me when I've gotten too mouthy and demanding.” Oh looked as though he couldn't have cared less. “So, your turn, Mr. Mouth. Open wide, bitch.” Sensing what was coming, Oh quickly clamped his lips tightly shut. Jin’s face twisted in disapproval and he quickly brought the knife down onto Oh’s outer thigh, stabbing deep enough to scrape bone and making the man positively howl with pain. Jin shoved the testicles down Oh’s ragged throat, instantly muffling the screaming and making the man’s eyes go wide with terror as his airway was blocked. He couldn't breathe. Jin shoved them down further, until the mouth was nearly clear, after which he shoved the penis down as well.

Oh began to choke, his body convulsing with his desperate need to get oxygen, his face going first very red with exertion then slowly turning blue. “You get to choke on your own balls and cock until you die. Sounds like you're a faggot now too,” Jin said with a beatific smile and stood, brushing dust from his ruined hoodie and stepping away. Oh’s eyes followed him as he tried desperately to cough his genitals from his own throat and take in oxygen. Jin turned away, walking back to Yoongi.

The sounds of Oh’s struggling slowly ceased as the man asphyxiated. Jin turned to the two men who'd been standing in the corner from the very beginning. “Get rid of it. I don't want him to be recognizable when you're done. We clear?” Jin ordered.

“Yes, sir,” they grunted in unison.

“We need to go, baby. You'll want a different hoodie, I'm sure,” Yoongi said, curling his arm around Jin’s waist and leading him out to the car.

“Yeah…this was my last one. I need some more.” Jin slid into the passenger seat, careful not to touch anything lest he cover it in blood.

Yoongi chuckled. “That's fine. I'll have Joon get you some more tomorrow.” Jin smiled over at him and the two drove away from the warehouse.