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Hwang Junho, the officer standing up in front of him with a puzzled expression, is starting to lose his patience. They've been at this for hours now, in a push-pull game that never quite gets anywhere useful, anywhere worth the effort. Junho asks, he presses, he threatens, but he's beginning to understand that this is not the first time the man has been restrained and interrogated, nor is his first time under the sharp threat of a gun pointed at his temple. The Salesman's posture is relaxed, his shoulders forced slightly to the back because of the handcuffs, his chest rising and falling soft and rhythmic, barely noticeable.
After a while of evading questions with witty remarks and getting under Junho's skin, he is also growing bored.
Junho finally lets his hand fall to his side, sheathing his protocol gun right below his hip, not bothering to put the safety on. He lets out an exasperated sigh, averting his eyes from the infuriating man kneeling on his apartment floor. That one was definitely going to his selected, exquisite list of terrible decisions.
The Salesman glances around with uninterested eyes, no longer wearing his characteristic smirk.
"Officer, you have quite a taste for home design", he comments with faux admiration, letting the appellative roll out slowly from his tongue, making Junho huff and roll his eyes. "Sober and clean, as expected for a servant of the law. Though, I must admit, I was hoping for something else".
Junho gives him another annoyed glance, lifting one eyebrow with little interest.
The Salesman whistles, locking eyes with him. "This is getting dull. Why don't you take off the handcuffs? I could make a better use of these hands. Wouldn't you like that? I bet you would"
The suggestive offer finally makes him snap. Junho's eye twitching, in two short moves he takes his gun and presses it harshly to the man's cheekbone, watching as a soft layer of skin gets pushed back under the eager metal.
"That's enough" he grits out, voice filled with frustration, pushing the gun harder and putting his finger on the trigger. "I'm not getting anywhere with you, am I? There's no use in trying to reason with an empty head." The man tilts his head to the side, daring, an amused glint in his half-lidded eyes.
Junho has accepted the challenge. Slow and tender, he slides the gun until it's resting on the man's lips. "Open up" he commands, eyes fixated on that smug face.
"I don't…" the Salesman starts, but Junho doesn't let him.
"I told you to open". The man tries to retort, so Junho hooks a finger on his teeth, pulling his jaw open and immediately pushing the barrel a few inches inside his mouth. There's mild annoyance on his face, clearly growing irritated with the rough treatment. "There you go. Was that so hard?". It's a rhetorical question, Junho's tone akin to the one used with a misbehaving child.
"You played with my time, you disrespected my profession", Junho starts, tangling his other hand in the man's soft, velvety dark hair. He pushes the gun a little further, feeling a string of saliva running down the man's chin. He lowers his gaze until he meets the Salesman's puffy lips, uncomfortably wrapped around the metal.
”I'm gonna make you cry”, Junho mutters behind his teeth, with the muscles of his jaw clenched. The Salesman barely gets to look up, trying to meet his gaze, before he lets out a surprised gasp, when Junho takes the gun out of his mouth and dives a hand on the backside of his formal suit, dragging him across the room with surprising force. Junho is both shorter and less muscular than him, but he can almost hear the expensive garment tearing apart just a little. A reminder of their fortunate encounter.
A shiver goes down his spine and his shoulders tense, and Junho misinterprets it for fear.
”Oh, don't worry. I'll make sure you like it”.
The Salesman breath gets punched out of his chest when his back hits a padded surfice. Junho lets go of his suit and takes a step back, taking his sweet time to observe him from head to toes. The Salesman's clothes are wrecked and a few locks of his hair are starting to stick to his forehead. It sends a strange warmth through Junho's belly, an idea crawling slowly to tempt him. He rolls his shoulders back, muscles tense and surely aching from the past hours of useless interrogation. "Get on the sofa" Junho says calmly, gesturing lazily with the gun still on his hand.
Naturally, his command falls on deaf ears.
"Do I arouse you, officer? Are you gonna force yourself on me?", he asks, a hint of mocking fear in his voice.
Junho lifts his eyebrows in consideration, but doesn't move. "I know you're not actually restrained. You could've broken free a while ago, but you didn't." He loosens his tie, shaking his head in disapproval. "Which means" he leans down, gripping the man's hair tightly and watching as another shiver warms up his body, voice a mere whisper against his ear, "that you like this. Now, be good and get on the sofa. If I have to repeat myself once more, I'll blow your fucking brains out. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, officer".
An hour has passed since the game turned to Junho's side. He's sitting in front of the sofa, his long legs stretched to the front. There's a faint buzz in the air, barely perceptible, like a remainder. On the sofa lays The Salesman, knees slightly bent to his chest and legs open, shaking, his chest going up and down with heavy breaths. His hair is soaked and he's been stripped, left only with his white unbuttoned shirt.
His eyes are covered tightly by the expensive dark tie that rested earlier around his collar.
Junho bites his own lower lip, admiring the scene, but lost deep in thought. An hour had passed, and he hadn't tried to get information from the man even once. There were many things he needed to know and prove, in order to get his brother back, to ask Inho what the hell was happening. To prove himself that it wasn't all just a dream. That the scar on his shoulder had meaning. He was running out of time.
And yet, he just watched, relishing on the state he had left The Salesman in.
What was he thinking?
A strangled whimper brought him back to earth. The man ahead looked exhausted, skin growing redder on his neck and ears. He was struggling to breathe and he looked feverish. The soft buzz hadn't decreased in the slightest.
Junho sighed. He looked at the small remote he was holding and pressed a button. The Salesman squirmed, throaty moans betraying his will to remain quiet.
"Did you know? We found this thing during an intervention on an illegal brothel, some months ago", he muttered, standing up and stretching his arms behind his head. "Actually, we found several closed boxes. My office wanted to re-locate them, but there was a lot of paperwork, and so I ended up taking them home, because my place seems to be now the office's depot." He leaned closer to the man's face, watching as he flinched under his breath.
"At first, I thought they were a pain in the ass." He chuckled, amused with his own joke. "Good to know they got you feeling something else, right?"
He waited for an answer, but the Salesman just swallowed, persistently quiet. Oh, well, he thought. Seems like I'll have to do it the hard way.
But he was a patient man, and a good policeman knew when to press and when to let go. So he kneeled down on the floor, raking a hand down the man's chest and belly, finally stopping just before the reddened, boiling hot skin of his pelvis. He let out a whistle, marvelling at the sight of a furious, rock hard cock, glistening in a mix of fluids. Around its base, a rubber ring, pressed so tight that it looked like it would snap at any moment. Junho's hand travelled further down, separating the Salesman's toned buttocks and getting sight of the thin, rubber string that was attached to the vibrator inside.
Once again, he was shaken off his mind by the Salesman's voice.
"I want-" he exhaled with difficulty, carefully pronouncing each word. Junho looked back at him, slightly pulling the string to cause a louder reaction.
"Hah! I want-" he tried again, squirming and struggling to lift his head from the couch. "Let me see you, officer. Take it off".
Junho pulled again, the soft moans making a delicious melody for his ears. He brought his other hand to the remote, pressing the button again and immediately starting to fidget with the man's cock.
"Why?", he asked, not bothering to hide the amusement in his tone. He stroked up and down slowly, grazing a thumb over the sensitive tip as the moans grew louder.
"I like your face, officer", the man answered between breaths. "Let me see you".
Not bothered by the pleas, Junho kept stroking him, harsher, not giving him a break. He leaned over the Salesman's face, gripping him by the hair and pulling their mouths together.
He was welcomed by soft lips that opened immediately, gasping and wanting, oh so desperately. He kissed slowly, letting the feeling linger before he pulled apart and whispered to his ear.
"How long has it been, huh? When was the last time someone held you like this?"
A strangled, loud moan was the only answer. Pleading, growing desperate, but never turning into words. Pushing two fingers inside the man's mouth, Junho spoke again.
"Or maybe you've shared beds with many people. Did you force them to play a game with you? Did you kill them when it was all over?"
The man under him was directly writhing now, eagerly licking his fingers, pushing them farther down his throat. He needed more, he needed Junho to force him, choke him, make him throw up from the force of his thrusts. Make him bleed and cry his name out.
Junho whispered one more time, letting his mouth go. "Tell me your name".
It was not a question, but also not an order. The words felt like a request, an invitation to the next phase of their encounter.
"Moon Kiyong", let out the man, his voice a whisper so soft that it almost merged with the buzzing and the sound of their heartbeats. So soft, almost asking Junho to not be cruel, to have some mercy.
Junho smiled and immediately pressed down, kissing him again, deeper and sloppier than before. He gripped Kiyong's dick once again, starting a maddeningly quick pace that seemed unbearable, listening to the short ah, ah, ah's that the man let out between kisses and bites.
And just then, Hwang Junho did something wonderful. He pressed his body down on Kiyong's, furiously taking off the blindfold and cock ring and biting down hard on his lower lip at the same time.
"Kiyong."
It happened like a lightning. He came with a scream, feeling the orgasm ripping his body apart as well as his lip under Junho's teeth, the hot blood and cum covering his skin in spurts of pure ecstasy and violence and pure, animal rage.
Their mouths clashed together once again, while Junho pressed his hips down, chasing after some friction, anything he could get. He pushed Kiyong to the sofa and sat back on him, dipping a hand between the man's thighs and straight up yanking.
Kiyong let out a miserable shriek as the vibrator slid out with a wet pop, still turned on. Junho threw it away, not willing to care about it for just a second more.
Desperate and unwilling to lose any more time, Junho pulled his trousers and underwear down in a rush and immediately positioned himself between Kiyong's legs.
"Tell me you want this", he grunted, gripping the man's thighs hard enough to bruise.
"Please."
That was all he needed to hear.
He entered the hot, constricting cavity in one strong push, and not caring the slightest about letting the man adjust, he immediately started pounding him down, down.
The sounds that left Junho's throat were animalistic, filled with all the irritation and resentment he felt for Kiyong and all that he represented. But he would be stupid to deny the truth behind it all. He wanted this.
And so he just kept kissing, biting, sucking. Scratching the soft skin and fat on the man's thighs, hips and arms, feeling the little blood trails making everything warmer, more intimate, more real.
He flexed Kiyong's legs further back and bit down hard on the curve of his neck, just as he felt the other man stretch an arm to the side and grab the gun from the floor.
Junho tenses, immediately blocking Kiyong's arm hand yanking the gun from his grip, letting go of his legs and pressing down his trachea with his other hand.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he demands, gun still out of reach, searching for any hint of sense or logic in the other man's face. But just as he's about to snap, he feels a shaky hand going up to his arm, the one holding the gun, and softly pressing down.
Guiding the gun to Kiyong's head.
Junho blinks, the shock of the moment almost enough to stop the intense emotions from before.
"Kill me."
The request makes Junho's chest ache, his body still pressed tight to the others, the hand on Kiyong's throat quavering.
"Please, just- don't think too much, just pull the trigger!", he asks with that incredibly soft voice again, and it's the most beautiful plea Junho has heard in his whole life. He only has half of a brain to ask back.
"Why?"
Kiyong brings both hands to Junho's, smiling when the gun finally touches his temple.
"Because nothing can feel better than death".
Junho tries to think, tries to remember what the hell is he doing here, tries to find a solution. He shakes his head once, twice, letting go of Kiyong's throat and throwing the gun to the other side of the room. He starts to shake, thrusting onto the man once again and kissing him impossibly soft, interlacing the fingers of both hands with Kiyong's, and that's when he realizes that he's the one crying.
Hot, heavy tears keep falling from his eyes, but he doesn't stop. He knows he lost, he knows it's over, but he pushes in and out, hearing a soft "no, no…" when he lets go of the man's lips.
He should've known. Junho should've known that misery followed the Salesman wherever he went.
And so he gives up, hugging Kiyong tightly and pressing his face to the crook of his neck, thrusting once, twice, until it all stops.