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A soft creak of wooden door and the cold breeze sweeps past his face. The door reveals a vast, dimly lit room. The light is mostly provided by a large chandelier in the middle of the room, while the other lights are dimmed due to a stylistic choice of a certain someone. Even with the dark panels supposedly creating an illusion of being smaller, the room still appears too empty with only bookshelves placed behind a mahogany desk and a chair inside it.
“Do come in.”
The soft, mellifluous voice finds its way to grace his ears. It came from the blond-haired man smiling behind the expensive desk. He's dressed in a black shirt and gold brocade tie hidden beneath a white vest. The attire is topped with an oversized white coat that always stays free of stains. He looks too pristine, too lavish compared to the underdressed all-black attire Taeyong wears.
Taeyong muses to see how the ensemble harshly contrasts the smaller man and his gloomy vicinity. He appears like a celestial being in all of his glorious lustrousness, levitating in the middle of a somber, starless night sky.
The metaphor isn’t entirely mistaken, Taeyong thinks. In an organization where people blend into the darkness to survive, the man in front of him has always been bathing himself in light and flaunting his blinding luminosity for the foolish plebeians who chase after a speck of his spark.
The man tilts his head a little and smiles amicably. “Welcome back, Taeyong-ssi” he says.
Ah... Taeyong silently scoffs at his traitorous heart which skipped a little bit faster after seeing his smile. Now that he thinks of it, no matter how unwelcoming the room or how vexatious his situation was, Taeyong’s toes would still betray him and curl in anticipation.
Perhaps, it's because the man in front of him, Moon Taeil, will always be present to greet him.
“Your last mission was especially demanding, but you completed it well. Thank you for your hard work.”
He always utters those kinds of congratulatory and acknowledgement whenever he faces Taeyong or his other subordinates, in a disgustingly formal manner too. “I saw the great difficulties you went through and how all of you overcame them, even putting your life on the line. Thank you for your hard work,” he said one day to their assault team after a successful mission to ambush the enemy's higher-ups.
Taeyong had only joined the Mafia for five months at that time and was present as Taeil’s bodyguard during field day. He dismissed the gesture, thinking that Taeil only put a facade, yet the words sounded warm to his trained ears despite the monotonous choice of words and he could clearly see how revered Taeil was by his underlings.
Taeyong thought those underlings were all brainwashed. But after almost two years of joining the Mafia, he finds himself already sculpted to fit into the same mold Taeil had created. He knows he'll gladly take hundreds of tough missions if it means the smaller man will greet him with those words.
Taeyong gives a side smile and steps closer towards Taeil, whose smile goes saccharine as he intertwines his fingers on his desk in veiled anticipation. “Shall we cut it out, Boss? I'm never fond of formalities, anyway.”
“Someone in my position is supposed to be well-mannered, Taeyong-ssi,” the blond replies calmly. “What would this organization be if its leader were some uncouth fellow? Could you imagine it?”
“Hm,” Taeyong hums as he continues his steps. Once he is on the opposite side of the desk, he boldly reaches for his boss’ chin, tilting it upwards and leaning down so close he can feel Taeil’s soft breath fanning his face. “I’d rather imagine you being true to yourself than this personification of perfection, Boss.”
For the past year, he’s tried to coax the mask open to no avail. Taeil is esoteric. No one knows about him, not about his past, not even about his age. "I'm in my twenties," is rumoured to be the vague answer he gave and nobody questioned it anymore. Everyone knows he’s joined the Mafia for years, yet not a single souls knows exactly when and how. One day he just appeared out of nowhere as the boss’ right-hand man and began dancing around the other mafiosos and stole their hearts for his own interest. Three years later he was enthroned as the leader after their boss succumbed to his illness. No one defied the decision, by that time everyone was already enthralled by Taeil’s charm.
He sees Taeil’s smile go a tad bit gentler after hearing that, before going back to his usual business smile. Despite that, his eyes shine brighter, in such a way that those onyxes alone seem to start ablaze to illuminate the entire room. It’s an enigma of how Taeil manages to radiate warmth despite the eerily cold mist enveloping himself.
“That can be arranged.”
“I don’t mean your manipulation game.” The subordinate clicks his tongue. “How about you show your true self, right now, with me?"
His boss chuckles lightly. “Have I not been real? Whenever I’m with you?”
“That is quite hard to answer, especially when you put such an elaborate charade,” Taeyong states. His thumb touches Taeil’s lower lip, caressing it gently. The blond is still looking up at him, his eyes look unreasonably innocent and his breath is as calm as a serene lake. It is hard to elicit a drastic change of reaction from his superior.
Taeyong wants to break him more and more each day.
“Well then, should this be the remuneration for your last mission?” Taeil inquires.
Taeyong smirks. "That should be the payment. For my bonus...” he didn’t finish his sentence, for he already slid across the table and lifted Taeil to sit on his desk. His lips meet Taeil’s velvety ones. It doesn’t take long for Taeyong to slide his tongue inside that hot cavity of the smaller man.
Fighting for dominance has always been their favorite way to start the play. Taeil seems to relish it, so Taeyong always entertains him. It usually ends up with Taeil letting him take the lead, granting him the chance to freely map his superior’s mouth, recalling every single detail he has come to taste for months.
The blond pulls away, breathing heavily for a mere seconds before Taeyong takes him again in a hungrier kiss. Taeil’s lips, plump and soft, are always addicting, and taste so sweet that Taeyong can never resist biting them, drawing enough blood to mingle the sweetness with the familiar metallic taste. It makes him taste even better than the chocolate cake topped with extra sugar glaze he often craves.
The sound he makes when Taeyong bites his lips again is heavenly. His voice never fails to awaken everything in Taeyong, sending electricity to rush through his bloodstream. Taeil spreads his legs and hooks them on his hips, drawing his body closer until they are flushed to each other. A single throaty groan escapes the Taeyong’s lips when he feels Taeil slowly moving his hips.
Taeyong groans, the friction is making him impatient. He quickly strips the white coat and vest, taking the tie off and putting it beside the smaller male. It will come in handy if one of them is feeling cheeky and wants to tie the other.
“Tch,” he grunts, then throws an array of expletives. The damned black shirt is taking too much of his time. Taeil always wears the same type of shirt and it's always a surprise every time he strips them away; sometimes they are easier to take off and sometimes they’re testing the limit of his patience.
He hears Taeil's airily laugh. "The shirts were never friendly with you, were they?"
"I never planned to be friendly either," he spits and rips the shirt with ease. The buttons scattered around and clattered on the floor. The subordinate shoots a cloying smile towards his boss. "Not with those who get in my way," he says again and dips his head down.
Taeyong can hear the boss’ soft sigh when his lips trail down the expanse of the smaller’s neck, devouring every inch of his skin. His scorching kisses burn, searing the smooth, pale skin with possessive marks that elicit strangled moans and a harsh tug on his hair whenever he touches those particular spots.
"Taeyong," Taeil's breathy moan blows hotly beside his ears. His delicate fingers start to undo the buttons on Taeyong's silk shirt in an impatient way. How very unlike him. "Hurry up."
The taller man smirks. "No," he rejects bluntly, earning a whine from the smaller man. He purposely leans down to rub their pelvis, feeling Taeil grow even tighter in his white pants. He grazes the tip of Taeil's ear. "I've worked hard for three weeks. I have every right to devour my supper slowly."
“If I grant you another plate of meal tonight, will you eat it a little quicker for now?" The blond asks, eyes doe-like and smile exquisite.
“Fuck.”
He saunters quickly to the desk’s lowest drawer, taking a bottle of lube and condoms. Taeil doesn’t like being dirty inside his office, so they always use condoms. However, everything’s different when Taeil’s sprawled on his marred bed. Filthy is an understatement for the results of the time they’ve spent together inside his bedroom.
Taeyong growls when Taeil spreads his legs invitingly. He strips themselves bare from the last clothes they have in a rough manner. Taeil has just pushed a switch and everything inside his head just went unruly. He knows full well how insatiable it is for Taeyong to only have a round of sex and is taking full advantage of it.
Damn Moon Taeil and his manipulative ways to get whatever he wants.
“Taeyong...” the smaller man whines softly, drawing his face closer.
No. Damn Taeyong for being too weak to refuse him.
Taeil kisses him again, hard and needy as Taeyong’s hands roam freely around the other’s body. He pats Taeil's thigh and the man lies on his back on the desk.
The crude breath he takes as he sees Taeil's body is way too loud. Taeil’s body is… otherworldly; remarkably voluptuous with gentle slope of shoulders, lush thighs, and ample bottoms; always so warm and welcoming to his voracious touches; supple and tender compared to anyone Taeyong has taken to his bed. It’s a wonder how he can maintain such a feature after being in the mafia. Mafioso is bound to have scars and marks for surviving yet another day. But Taeil’s skin is so spotless and flawless that even porcelain dolls will envy him.
It's unfair to have the gods lavished their favor upon him, but if Taeyong gets to taste a bit of their blessing from Taeil, he thinks it's a little bit less irksome.
So Taeyong starts to play with his fingers. One turns into two and suddenly Taeil has four of his fingers inside him. The calloused fingers were soon replaced and Taeil's face contorts from the familiar gratification as he pushes his length inside him.
He's still tight, too tight. He used to ponder bitterly about other men bedding Taeil, though it would evaporate instantly every time he pushed inside the smaller man. The grip was delicious and tight; he knew nobody had touched the small blond man. You are the only one, Taeil confirmed it five months ago, between labored breaths as he rode Taeyong. That oddly put his mind at ease and soon bloomed a sense of foreign possessiveness towards his boss.
Taeyong grunts when that possessiveness is starting to cloud his mind again now. He gives an experimental thrust, which earns a breathless moan from Taeil. He starts to move his hips from long, slow drags and gradually quickens his pace. Taeil's moans filled the room soon after.
"Tae… yong.. ah..” the smaller man grips his neck tightly while the other hand tries to support his own weight on the table. “tae... please mo.. re. Plea-se."
He almost stops. Almost. Taeil, even being hazy from his roughness, is still relatively composed. Or more composed than ordinary people getting railed can. There's often a shift of hip position or understandable coherent words of what he wants Taeyong to do during sex.
But him saying "Please" in bed (or on desk as they often do) is unheard of. And that fuels him with some sense of pride, ego, and a need to please Taeil even more, mingled together to create a foreign feeling coiled inside his stomach. He mentally curses the frenetic beats of his heart when Taeil stares at him with glassy eyes.
He pushes Taeil down, putting his legs over his shoulders, one hand gripping the smaller man's slim waist in a bruising strength and the other hand supporting himself when he leans down.
It's perfect like this, he gets to observe Taeil's pretty face and the expressions he lets out. He's also buried deep inside him every time he thrusts and it goes straight to the smaller man's sweet spot.
The pace he sets is inhuman. It's the most brutal pace he's had with Taeil, but Taeil's cries of plea boost his ego even more. He can't even form coherent words other than "yong, yong, yong" moaned in a silvery voice full of pleasure.
It didn't take long for Taeil to grips his hair and kisses him, messy and open-mouthed as he cries from the increasing stimulation. Taeyong slips his tongue inside his mouth, drinking in every sound he makes. He only stops the kiss when he feels Taeil tugging his hair even harsher. He hears Taeil whispering, "wanna come," before feeling the blond tighten around him. Taeil's body is trembling and his back arches upwards beautifully and a loud cry of pleasure echoes inside the room.
Taeil's voice went straight to his dick, throbbing even harder than before. Taeil grows impossibly tighter, clasping Taeyong in a vice-like grip that sucks his breath away in every thrust. Taeyong curses, his hip movements are getting erratic. It's after a few more rough thrusts that he came with a loud groan.
He pants heavily for a few times, letting Taeil's legs down and dangle from the table, though he's yet to pull out from the smaller male.
His hand reaches to brush the damp fringe out of his eyes. His body is glistening from the sheen of sweat and he looks gorgeous. His face is the shade of attractive pink. His eyes are hazy and expression blissful. His chest is heaving heavily, littered with purple blooms all the way to his neck.
If only Taeyong can snap a picture of him. It'll be perfect when he wants a quick release during overseas missions.
"What were you thinking about?" Taeil asks him.
Taeyong sends him a coquettish grin. "About taking a picture of your after sex glow. For work purposes, of course."
The smaller man chuckles. "Ah, really? I have a feeling it's just going to distract you from working properly."
"No, Boss. It will provide me with generous inspirations to ease my solo work," he winks.
"Ah, as much as I'd love to authorize you to do that, there is a strict rule that The Boss should not be photographed by anyone for confidentiality," his boss states. "However, I think I can help you engrave it in your memory until you can't forget about it."
Taeil's eyes glint, clearly challenging him to accept the offer.
"That's a really tempting proposal," Taeyong comments while helping Taeil to sit up. "I'd love to hear you begging again. Makes me feeling things, you know?"
"You feeling things might just be your overflowing ego's doing," he jests. "But you really managed to chip the mask during our first play. You've even seen what's beneath it. It's such a shame your payment is only valid for our first love-making and not for the second one, don't you think?" he questions rhetorically.
The subordinate fakes a disappointed face. "Aw, so it wasn't really off? What an evil man to break his promise."
He already expected that there was no way Taeil would show all of his true feelings. Now that he thinks of it, maybe his begging was a calculated slip-up. But whether it was calculated or not, it's still a progress. He'll gladly make him beg more and more in the future to confirm if it's his genuine feeling.
"You never said how much I should show," he states in a matter-of-factly manner, but there's a lilt of playfulness laced in his remark.
Taeil' lips curl, a suggestive smile blooms on his pretty face while his hands snake around Taeyong's neck, bringing him closer. His breath is hot and the look in his eyes is titillating. "Let's play a little game again, Taeyong-ssi. How about you try to take it off completely tonight?"
Taeyong's right hand caresses Taeil's cheek, accompanied by a dangerous smirk. "Just so you know, I've been intending to break you to reveal the real Moon Taeil for months. If we truly do this, it might hurt you a little"—he leaves little to no distance between their face—"leader of Mafia," he purrs.
"Always so bold and brash. You really entertain me the most," Taeil sounds amused. "Go ahead and break me all you want. After all, we have the whole night for ourselves."
Taeyong doesn't waste another minute to take Taeil into the hidden maze leading to his bedroom. Seven hours might still be too little to completely destroy the Leader of Mafia's mask. But he sure knows it's going to successfully engrave more Taeil, Taeil, Taeil inside his brain.