Chapter Text
Seongje divided everything between two extremes. Things could only either be; romantic or plain dull.
He liked to think he was a romantic guy himself. Because who was a romantic if not just a visionary and Geum Seongje was one hell of a visionary.
Blood was romantic. The way it worked so hard to circulate itself in the human body, only to spill so readily at the first minor inconvenience. The red it dedicated itself to, no matter the animal it poured from. The way it spattered under the force of his fist. The art he made with it was nothing if not romantic. The work of a visionary.
Pain was also romantic. The different responses it induced. The different expressions it inspired. The desperation it scented the air with. It was all romantic really.
But nothing was quite as romantic as little Eunjang. Battered to a pulp, bloodied from stem to stern, despair thick air — kissing death and still kicking. Still finding a voice for his dispute. Willing to die for his devotion to something as fickle as friendship.
Something as romantic as that. Seongje could only honour it with a hats off. And a few blows to the bastards who orchestrated it, but that was hardly comparable. That wasn’t art, that was just another day’s doodles. Little Eunjang was an oil painting in comparison.
The scene would replay itself in Seongje’s head.
In internet cafes, when the games he played were lacking in passionate storylines, he’d think little Eunjang would’ve been a better scenic fit — beaten, bloodied and still brave. It came to him between cigarettes, when the smoke would curl against his nose or between his fingers, he’d see the desperation in little Eunjang’s eyes and wonder if he’d make the same look with a faceful of smoke. Or when someone was unfortunate enough to meet the business end of his fists until bloody, Seongje would grimace, because little Eunjang managed to give blood its picturesque grace. These punks just uglied it.
The whole scene unfolded a while ago. Much has happened since. Baekjin left the Union. His replacement was extended to Seongje and not so politely declined (that was tragically unromantic). He had to lay low for a while after that, on account of the bounty on his head and all. Change schools. Change homes. Change phones. He did it all.
A lot has changed but Seongje’s appreciation for all things romance never did.
So when he spots little Eunjang on a late night convenience store run for a pack of smokes, it wasn’t even up to question whether he would approach. It was only a question of how. And even that, he didn’t think over twice. Little Eunjang was in the snacks aisle, staring at the chips options like they offended him.
“Little Eunjang.” Seongje leans against the candy rack opposite. “So far from Eunjang.”
He startles, gripping the basket in his hands tighter and turning on his heel. His wide eyes only grow grave when they recognise Seongje and it was riveting. Seongje wants to see how fear might shape them. “Uh.. Yeah, I’m just um—“
“C’mon, you can get it out.” Seongje croons.
“Sorry, I— I’m just visiting a friend.” He’s trying to temper his fright, Seongje can see the effort in the way the basket trembles even though he doesn’t. His lips move, open then close, like he wants to say something but keeps debating otherwise. Seongje waits him out with patience he didn’t even know he possessed. He opens his mouth again, “We heard you disappeared.”
Seongje grins. He knows it’s that wicked smile that earns him fear because little Eunjang bristles. “Oops, you found me.” He chuckles.
Little Eunjang just looks like a deer in headlights. Saucer eyes behind glasses, pouty lips drawn a near frown, eyebrows just slightly furrowed. Seongje never noticed the small details of anyone but this was the muse of an artist. He’d reprised the picture of little Eunjang in blood enough times to want to be its artist. It would be a shame to romance not to reconstruct it to his liking.
Little Eunjang swallows thickly before he suddenly speaks. “I didn’t get to uh— thank you last time. Y’know for- for what you did.”
Now, Seongje’s just surprised. Bravery and respect. Who knew either honourable manner could be hiding in Eunjang. “If you really wanna thank me, buy my smokes.”
Little Eunjang processes for a moment, still narrowed to a point, then he nods quickly. Seongje thinks it’s too easy. The lure didn’t even need bait. He hangs back, watching as the boy picked out a few more snacks then stumbles over to the counter. Seongje saunters outside and waits for him there.
The convenience store door eventually rings open and little Eunjang takes a wary step towards him with a pack of cigarettes in his hand. Seongje glances between them. Unfitting, he thought. Perfect, he then thought. The boy stretches his hand out and offers the carton over. Seongje takes it, flicks open the cap and draws one out with his lips. Then he turns it back around, and that was the play.
“Smoke one with me? If you’re really thankful.”
Little Eunjang visibly gulps. He trembles slightly. Seongje loves it. He wants to see a full body tremor. “I— I’ve never—“
“Here, I’ll show you how.” Seongje hauls him closer with a pull of his backpack strap. He’s hardly a drag, Seongje’s head almost swoons with all the possible ways he could exploit that weakness. He’s naive enough to stay put as Seongje cups his hands and lights the stick in his mouth. He takes a long pull, igniting it, then plucks it from his own mouth with two fingers and offers it over.
To his surprise little Eunjang doesn’t reach for it with his own fingers but his mouth. Bringing his lips to the filter in between Seongje’s fingers. Seongje is transfixed. He watches as those plump lips part, envelope the filter, then — nothing.
Seongje chuckles. “You need to inhale a little harder, Eunjang.”
Silly little Eunjang obliges. Taking a more concentrated drag straight to the inexperienced lungs. It hits hard and fast and he’s immediately hacking. Doubling over and sputtering. Seongje laughs, his art is amusing. When the boy peers back up at him, his eyes are desperate again. Brim and wet. Seongje is staggered by the sudden desire he feels. He wants to see them tortured. He wants little Eunjang to weep. It would be his prettiest rendition yet.
“You really are gullible.” Seongje snickers, pulling the cigarette back to his own lips. The filter is wet with Eunjang’s inexperience, and Seongje thinks he would prefer every cigarette like this. Wet with choking effort. Tries to chase the taste of that choke between the tobacco and nicotine.
“You make it look easy.” Little Eunjang says with a wince. Watching Seongje’s drag wisp smoke into his mouth with morbid curiosity.
“There’s an easier way for a first timer, wanna try?”
And little Eunjang might be the stupidest of that school because he’s the lamb led to the slaughter and Seongje was always a wolfish bastard.
He hoists the boy closer when he doesn’t respond. Then he canes his head forward so they were nose-to-nose. Little Eunjang quite literally goes catatonically still. His eyes grow wider. And he’s so scared that Seongje wants to just ruin him then and there. Turn that fear into dread, see how pretty he might be wearing Seongje’s bruises.
He doesn’t do that yet though, all he does for now is lean closer to the lamb’s lips and take his chin by the hand. His thumb drags the skin of his bottom lip to part them — then when little Eunjang’s stupidly innocent mouth is open wide enough, he blows his mouthful of smoke into it.
Another cough, another splutter and more heaving. Then tortured eyes peer back up at him and Seongje feels pleasure ripple through him.
“Nope, guess it’s just not for you.” He laughs around the cigarette hanging from his lip. Presses his thumb into the plump of little Eunjang’s lips once more, then lets go. “What’s your name anyway?”
“Seo— Seo Juntae.” The boy rasps.
“Tae!” Seongje turns his neck to where the yell came from. “You took freaking ages, what—is that?” He draws closer until both figures were illuminated by the flickering neon signs of the convenience store. “Fucking Geum Seongje?”
Seongje grins. “In the flesh. How’s it go Gogo?”
Gotak thunders towards them and Seongje takes his last drag of the best cigarette he’d ever had and stubs it out with the toe of his shoe.
“Motherfuck- Did he touch you Tae? What did he do? Did he hurt you?”
Seongje braces himself. Gotak was a heedless moron. Meathead. One he had to put the brakes on before he became more of a nuisance. And Seongje did put the brakes on him. He always liked to remind him of that and tonight was no different.
“Nice to see you too. Been a while. How’s the knee?” He goads.
He’s clutched by the collar with force and he smirks in Gotak’s hold. He didn’t expect any less. Easy tempers make for easy wins. Gotak was never a threat and Seongje made sure he’d be even less of one when he jacked up his taekwondo knee. Now he was just playtime for ruthless fuckers like Seongje.
At least little Eunjang shared that sentiment because he pistons forward to intervene. Standing between them and trying to shove Gotak off with the little strength he had.
Seongje was smitten. Small but mighty. He wanted to crush that might.
“Tak, don’t! He didn’t hurt me! We were just chatting.” He tries. But Seongje flexes his fingers and balls a fist anyway because like he said, Gotak was a heedless moron who didn’t hear beyond his temper.
“Chatting with this bastard? What the fuck did he say to you?”
“You should listen to your friend ‘Tak’.” Seongje cackles. “Would be a shame if how’s your knee turned into how’s your knees?”
Gotak lunges, sailing them all back into the wall. Seongje raises a hand to Juntae’s back to brace him from impact. His own neck takes the brunt and he thinks Juntae will have to make it up to him sometime.
“Tak please! Let’s just go!”
“Yeah ‘Tak’, just go. Before I stop playing nice for little Eunjang’s benefit. I haven’t hit something in a while I could use the refresher.”
Seongje knows he’s pressing all Gotak’s buttons, he wasn’t lying about spoiling for a fight. It’s been a while since his itch for blood was scratched and although he’d much rather see his little muse’s — Gotak’s could very well do for now.
“Come on. I got popcorn, we paused the movie for it on a good scene, remember? Let’s go back quickly, it’s getting late.” Juntae coaxes a mile a minute.
Popcorn? A movie? Getting late?
Now Seongje didn’t think Gotak’s blood would just do. It might not be enough if he drained every last drop. Little Eunjang might do better to hold him back instead. He was irked now.
He grins, wide and deadly. His hand rises and wrenches around Gotak’s wrists around his collar. He swats them off him easy enough. All he had to do was lock down to break the bone. It would give that easily under his strength. But his little muse is staring at him with puppy pleading eyes and Seongje toys with the idea of breaking every one of Gotak’s bones just to see more of that desperation.
He doesn’t for now though. He just throws Gotak’s hands back at him and scoffs. Plucking another cigarette from his gifted pack.
The pair scuttle off after Juntae fixes Gotak’s shirt and Seongje almost snaps his cigarette in half pretending it was Gotak’s wrist.
“See you around, little Eunjang.” He calls out. Gotak snarls back and Juntae spares him one last pleading look.
Seongje has to control his legs from chasing after it.
He hasn’t had this much fun in a long time. Oh little Eunjang. The romance you are.
———
The next time he’s entertained, he was on his way home from a League of Legends tournament. The competition had taken a turn for the better when the guy sat adjacent decided to bad mouth him under his breath.
Seongje decorated his keyboard red and finally the deepseated itch was abated for the meanwhile.
He pivots a turn through an underpass in his neighbourhood. Cigarette hung from his lips. Hands jammed into his pockets. He walked with a spring in his step. Violence had a way of leaving him chipper. It was almost romantic.
Then he hears it, a whine. Midway through the underpass. He glances up from his shoes and, oh this day couldn’t get any better.
“Little Eunjang. How’s it going?” He barely contains himself.
Juntae throws him that pleading look again. He’s collared to the wall by some brute. Surrounded by four more. His little muse was desperately thrashing around, a forearm to his neck was pinning him in place. The other fuckers turn to him at once and Seongje glances them over.
“Do you need my services again, little Eunjang?” He coos. “Say please. Please Seongje hyung save me. Tears might help your cause too.”
Juntae seems to be nothing if not blindly obedient. Foolishly so. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. Seongje is so smitten. His eyes grow so despaired Seongje is almost winded. Then Seongje is actually winded when he defeatedly whimpers; “Please Seongje hyung, please save me!”
Seongje grins. That was pure pleasure. At his pleasure. “Okay…Hats off to the romantic.”
Punches rain down like meteors, landing sites on faces he didn’t care to actually look at. His gaze was fixated. Even as he fed a bloodlust so long starved he was running through two whole cigarette packs a day just to keep the itch at bay. Now that need was so minor in comparison to this need he had to see little Eunjang in ruins.
By the time he’s done with his appetiser, the entree is clutching the wall in horror. Watching him unleash hell with that same morbid curiosity. This side of impressed, that side of terrified.
It was invigorating.
Seongje makes a queue of delinquents against the wall. Lines them up for his little muse and then turns to him with blood streaked cheeks and hooded eyes. “What do you wanna do with them, little Eunjang? Hm?”
He parades over to Juntae and rakes him over with his eyes. He’s also furnished with blood. Flush with bruises and glasses askew. Seongje wants to lick the blood clean. “I can break his arm,” He points to no one specific, “Or his leg. Whatever you decide.”
Juntae peers up at him through eyelashes. He’s scared to a tremble. “L-Let them go.” He puffs, short and sweet. “They’re not worth it.”
“You’re the boss.” Seongje smiles. “You heard your saviour. Piss off.” They all scatter away like the insects they are.
It’s silent a moment, Juntae seems to be trying to stop himself shaking. Seongje careens against the wall next to him. Pulls out a cigarette and lights it between his lips.
He’s suddenly stammering around his words. “Th-Thank you, again. If there’s anythin—“
Seongje just outstretched his cigarette to the boy’s lips. He wanted that. Again. Juntae can tell as much because he doesn’t question it. Instead he gazes up at Seongje with teary wide eyes. “C-Can we do it the easier way? It hurt less last time..”
Seongje is stunned. The lamb was leading itself to the slaughter. He didn’t even need to wolf his way around it.
He’s also a nasty fucker who knew when to capitalise. So capitalise he did. “Sure, come ‘ere.”
He pulls the boy flush against him by the lapel. He’s bloody, it’s pretty. Seongje wants to push. He wants more blood, more pretty. The boy is cocking his head up himself now. Presenting himself on Seongje’s platter.
Seongje is so fucking smitten.
He doesn’t need to part his mouth either, it’s open for him. So he draws closer than last time. Keeps his eyes wide open when Juntae tightens his shut. He smells metallic. Seongje is hard before he knows it. He wonders if clueless little Eunjang can feel him against his belly.
When he pulls a toke of smoke and descends on his lips, it’s much more ill intended than the first time. Now he’s close enough to feel Juntae’s heat radiate off him.
He dares further. Brushes their lips together before opening his mouth. He guides the smoke, slowly, pushing it with his tongue so it made a slow exit into Juntae’s. And just as little Eunjang is about to recoil back with a cough. Seongje presses his lips against his and makes him swallow it down.
He starts to choke. His nasal release also blocked. Seongje forces him to endure it.
He can feel the tears wet against his own face. He pushes a little more. Working the kiss now. His thumb cradles his jaw, strokes him there. Then he’s parting Juntae’s lips with his own, sucking whatever residual smoke was trapped there.
He pulls away after licking a stripe into his bottom lip.
“That’s the easier, easier way.” He grins. Little Eunjang’s eyes are still clamped shut tightly and he’s trembling.
He opens his eyes and they’re choked red, teary and tortured, Seongje presses his nails into his palm hard enough to draw blood to stop himself from swooping back in to take those lips again. God, he was having so much fun.
“You managed to keep it down, see.” He chuckles.
Juntae doesn’t look entirely horrified by the kiss. In fact, it looks like he doesn’t even realise it was a kiss. So naively trusting, he gives Seongje a little smile like he was happy with the praise.
Good heavens. Seongje couldn’t deny himself this meal. He wanted it to be his last on death row. It was too fucking hearty.
“Wanna try some more?” Seongje pretends to offer when he knows he’ll take anyway. “Y’know, to thank me?”
Little Eunjang. So quick to agree. So eager to please. So, so stupidly his to manipulate.
He looks two-minded, like it wasn’t worth the pain. But he’s nothing if not a settler of his loans, so he nods shyly and Seongje is the cat who ate the fucking canary.
Savoured and tasted first — but he always played with his food.
He nestles a puff of smoke against his tongue. Doesn’t even disguise his intentions when he goes in for his feed. He all but inhales Juntae’s lips with his own, half the smoke lost in the effort.
He doesn’t care for that now. His lungs are not at the top of wreckage priority. He’ll get to them eventually when he ruins every part of his little muse.
For now he’s hungry and Juntae offered himself up without realisation. So he indulges. It’s not just a press of lips, he goes all in. It’s bruising, not testing just taking. He tilts the boy’s chin with a relatively rough grip for better access.
Juntae’s lips are as shy as everything about him. Probably because he didn’t realise this was a kiss. Seongje wants him to know it. He’ll work him down until he’s a kissed mess if he has to. So he licks early on, gentle and slow against his bottom lip. Then he pulls the flesh between his teeth with a drag until it’s trapped in his mouth and he suckles on it.
His little muse whines and quivers. Seongje is going to eat him alive.
The smoke is lost between them but Seongje doesn’t let up and Juntae doesn’t push him off either. He sucks the bottom lip between his teeth, laps his tongue over the skin of it. Then he pushes back into Juntae’s parted lips and licks into his mouth. He tastes as much as he can with his tongue. It’s all copper, desperation and oh, so sweet. Teeth, gums and when he strokes their tongues together, Juntae’s knees buckle into him.
Seongje’s free hand braces him by the waist, wringing around his midriff to keep him upright. Juntae chases his breath and whines.
Seongje is staggered by mental imagery of how far he can take it if he really wanted to. His little Eunjang was so foolishly chaste, Seongje can take him against this wall if he wanted to. Maybe bring back those fuckers to watch him spread pretty for Seongje. Or maybe they can do it on the gravel there. With Juntae on his back so he can see every expression move on his face, full of Seongje and blood and bruises. Slowly descending to corruption.
It’s a visceral need. A pang of sadism that almost blinds him a beat. But the wolf doesn’t eat the boy who cried until the third time. He couldn’t fuck this up. Not when he wanted Juntae’s virtue more than he’s ever wanted anything before.
So third time lucky it is. How romantic it all was.
They wrestle tongues a little longer. Juntae’s shy and experimental, kittenish, like he was trying to taste the smoke in Seongje’s mouth. Do as he was told. It was so endearingly sincere. Seongje pulls away just before it gets too good to let go. Swipes a thumb at the slick of saliva that dribbled down Juntae’s chin in the wet kiss. Then licks it off the digit as little Eunjang observed in dumbstruck.
He quickly busies his mouth with his filter before it chose something else again.
He takes a heady drag, tries to distract himself from doing the worst to Juntae here and now. He needs to pace himself. Break him down so he’s vulnerable, then sweep in at just the right, wrecked moment.
He pulls his phone out his pocket. Little Eunjang is kissed flush. It swept across his cheeks under the blood. His lips are swollen with Seongje’s teeth indentations. His eyes are brim and wet.
Fuck it was cosmic. Seongje wants to come all over it. Make red mix with white. Reconstruct his art.
He pushes his phone towards him. “Put your number in there.” He’s not asking. Little Eunjang is not denying him either. Might as well use him as he pleases. “In case you need my services again, y’know.”
He frantically does as he’s told. His fingers tremble as he inserts his number. Seongje leans his head back against the wall and grins. When Juntae hands him his phone back with shaky hands, he pats him on the crown of his head. Ruffles his hair.
He shoots him a quick text. Gazes over as Juntae pulls his own vibrating phone out of his pocket. “Save hyung’s number, hm?”
He gives a fretful nod.
Seongje doesn’t know what he did to deserve this as his karma. He must’ve been the best of men in a life before. Because this was too fucking easy and he doesn’t know how he even overlooked such a plaything once or twice. Every video game he loves pales in comparison.
He was given just a demo and fuck if he couldn’t wait to get his fingers on the full game.
“Get home safe, little Eunjang. Leave trouble for the dogs, ok?” He splits another grin. Lights another cigarette and saunters off into the underpass tunnel.
———
He texts him too soon after to be anything short of eager. That same evening. Seongje doesn’t care. He’s not a subtle person. Never has been and especially never will be when it came to little Eunjang.
11:38PM
Geum Seongje:
You home?
He’s at an internet cafe. Played his fill of League of Legends and Call of Duty. Gunned down, raided and bombed his way to the point of satiety. Now he was itching for a different kind of game. He takes a cigarette to the itch. It doesn’t do much, barely scratches the surface. Just goes down smoother than it usually does. Infuriatingly.
Juntae reads his message shortly after it was sent. Doesn’t reply for about 3 minutes. Seongje thinks a lesson in manners might be missing there. He’ll more than happily teach it.
11:41PM
Seo Juntae:
I’m at Hyuntak’s.
11:42Pm
Seo Juntae:
Thank you again for today.
Ah, Go Hyuntak. You fucking nuisance.
11:42PM
Geum Seongje:
Why not home?
11:45PM
Seo Juntae:
I’m sleeping over.
Die. Go Hyuntak has to die. Seongje crushes the cigarette in his hand. Puts the smoulder out against his skin. Doesn’t care. He pictures it to be Gotak’s other knee.
How unromantic.
He needs to swat that fucking fly that keeps buzzing around his dinner.
11:45PM
Geum Seongje:
Location?
That seemed to do the trick. Little Eunjang panics a quick response.
11:45PM
Seo Juntae:
Why?
11:46PM
Geum Seongje:
Ran out of smokes. Thought you could buy me some more. My knuckles are still bruised from earlier.
Seongje was a bastard. He knew as much. He was playing little Eunjang like a fiddle. Exploiting that guilt he seems to bear in plenty. There was no such thing as guilt in his composition. It such a useless emotion and Seongje didn’t feel many of those to begin with. The one emotion he did feel in abundance though was annoyance. And right now, a certain fly circled his plate and he needed to consume his meal before it landed.
So sweetly predictable, so easily tampered, his little Eunjang tells him to meet at the same convenience store as last time and Seongje is there in record time.
He leans against the side wall of the convenience store, in the dark alley between it and a residential building. There’s a lit cigarette hanging from his lip and his hands are stuffed into his pockets. He has one leg propped up. Waits.
Soon after the convenience store doorbell chimes and out comes his newest console. Little Eunjang stands in front, under the neon signs, his head pivoting left to right in search. He was patched up, a plaster on his cheek, blood wiped clean. And he wore joggers and a hoodie two sizes too big, it couldn’t be anyone’s but Gotak’s.
Seongje stamps his cigarette before Juntae sees it. Then whistles once in his direction.
Juntae whips his head around and widens his eyes when he spots Seongje in the dark. Balls his fist and pushes forward, pacing towards him with a carton of smokes in his hand.
He doesn’t greet Seongje. Doesn’t look too upset with the whole ordeal either. Just reaches a hand out and silently offers up the cigarettes.
Seongje takes it with a grin. Flicks it open and pulls at one. “Light it for me? I can’t make a fist.” He lies.
Juntae buys it, like he stupidly does all of Seongje’s bargains. He takes a hesitant step, stops in front of him. He looks skittish, a little nervous. But he’s a pretty red all the same. Licking his cheeks, nose and the tip of his ears. Seongje wants to see what it looks like under the skin. How pretty it was on his hands, how it tasted against his lips, how it marred his skin everywhere else.
“Lighter’s in my back pocket.” He pushes. Because he can. Because Juntae is just that naive.
Juntae sighs a shaky breath. Wrapping his short arm around Seongje’s waist. Fishing the lighter out of his back pocket. Seongje can only just smirk his way through it.
Then little Eunjang gets on his tiptoes. Seongje doesn’t bend down for him. Makes him work it. He strains his legs and arms, Seongje is so much taller. He could wrap himself around Juntae twice over. That’s thrilling.
Juntae flickers the lighter once. The flame doesn’t take, easily windswept. He tries again and it puts out equally fast.
Seongje wraps his arm around little Eunjang’s waist. Pulls him closer. Then cups his other hand around the cigarette, against the wind flow and cocks his head for Juntae to try again. He does as he’s told and the flame flickers alive. Licks at the tobacco rod and alights. Seongje hollows his cheeks and pulls a toke. Then blows it ever so slowly into little Eunjang’s face.
He blinks several times like it burns and it probably does. But he seems to have anticipated it because his breath was held and he doesn’t cough this time. Just gapes wide eyed at Seongje.
“Thanks.” Seongje grins. Not letting go of his waist. He plucks the cigarette from his lips and juts it to Juntae. “Want some?”
Juntae looks stricken. His face falls slightly and he pouts. Ah fuck. Seongje tightens the seal around his middle. He shakes his head feverishly. “No please.”
“No please?” Seongje chuckles. Pops it back into his own mouth and leans his head to Juntae’s level. “Isn’t it no thank you?”
Juntae flushes. Seongje thinks he should stop doing that before he really gets eaten alive. Then he gestures to a plastic bag in his hand and those puckish lips open again and Seongje is riveted by their shape, movement, pink. “I got some stuff to treat your hand. Can I see it?”
How besotted. Seongje presents his fist because who was he to deny such sweet sentiment.
It was bruised, he didn’t lie about that. But even breaks and fractures felt like scratches to him now. They were nothing new, never painful, just irksome. Juntae inspects it with remorseful eyes, his brows draw a furrow and he pouts again.
Seongje can’t help his next words.
“Doesn’t need much fixing. A kiss will probably do.”
Little Eunjang is dumbstruck. He’s a deer in headlights again. Neck strained to gape up at Seongje. “W-what?”
Seongje extends his fist closer to Juntae’s mouth. “Kiss it better?” Then he lowers his face next to his fist. “Why? Shy? Didn’t we kiss already?”
Juntae startles at that. Expression going grave. “Wh-what?” He swallows thickly. Jittery. “We—we were smoking.”
“Ah come on, Eunjang. It’s cute but no one’s that stupid.” He grins wide. “We were kissing. Didn’t it feel good? You were making sounds like it did.”
He colours a vibrant red. “Shut up!”
Oh. Oh?
Seongje’s grin grows wicked. There’s that bravery that hooked him in the first place. The fighting spirit of a cornered mouse. See, now he just wanted more of it. To corner that mouse in so many different positions and watch it struggle a defense.
“Kiss it or I break Gotak’s other knee.” He smiles as he threatens because he’s just that much of a sleazy bastard.
Juntae looks mortified. His eyes search for any truth behind the threat in Seongje’s face. He must’ve found it because his head drops slightly. Hesitantly. Then he presses a fleeting kiss against Seongje’s knuckles. Quick, careful and terrified.
Seongje is fulfilled, but also fuck if he’s not incentivised. How quick little Eunjang obeyed in the name of Go fucking Hyuntak. He needed that bastard to die. If he couldn’t kill him, he’ll just ruin Juntae and give him back to the fucker broken. That seems the more romantic plan of the two.
“You’d do anything for that asshole huh?” He says around a cottonmouth of smoke.
“Please don’t hurt him. You’ve helped me twice. I know you can be nice.” His words are a gush, pouring from him with those pleading eyes Seongje wanted to stain white.
“Okay. It’s nice to be nice. Kiss me then. Or I might just change my mind, break all of his bones and make you watch.” He gives the ultimatum with a sickening smile. He knows because it’s induced the fear it always does in anyone, in Juntae.
His eyes start to well up. Seongje thinks he could never get tired of that visual. He chews his own lip worrisomely. His hands quiver where he brought them up to grip onto Seongje’s shoulders and keep himself upright.
“O-Okay one kiss.” He whispers shakily. Ruddied from crown to toe. He’s shivering slightly, panicking probably, most likely. But Seongje is a wild wolf who has never known taming. He wasn’t about to cage himself now. So he tips his head back against the wall and smirks.
One kiss it is little Eunjang.
He doesn’t make a move. Tilts his jaw at Juntae to prompt him a start. Juntae looks burdened with that. Like he thought Seongje would take him just because he initiated. But Seongje wants his muse to want to be painted as much as he wants to paint him.
So he stays put and throws him a gleaming grin. One that lures. The lamb flocks closer. Back on its tiptoes. Eyes shut tightly and face pursed a grimacing pout. Cute. Then he uses Seongje’s shoulders as leverage to pull himself up just level with his lips. Slants his little head a degree.
And in he goes.
The kiss is chaste. A gentle graze, with every intention to run away. Inexperienced, like it was his first time initiating. His lips are warm and wet from when he worried them with his teeth. They’re plump, probably full of blood and he tastes vaguely like butter popcorn, mostly like fear.
Seongje was a dog. Give a dog a bone he might bury it later.
Little Eunjang tries to pull away. Like the job was done. Loan settled. Seongje grasps him by the nape to keep him there and smiles against his lips. My turn, he thinks, then he was the dog with the bone. Ready to bury it inside Juntae.
He takes his mouth with bruising force. Pushes him flush against his front by the back of his neck and kisses him filthily. It’s nothing like the babyfeed pecks Juntae was experimenting with. It’s dirty and slick, full of experience and fucking sinful.
Juntae whines at the sudden sensory overload. Seongje kisses him like he’s trying to swallow him down — and he definitely was. He plants open-mouthed pets to his mouth. Licks all he can of Juntae’s lips. From seams to corners. To a pursuant tongue pushing through parted lips and into a mouthful of whimpers. He takes his time in there again. Swallows around every sound that escapes Juntae. Caressing a velvet tongue with his own, lapping at the skin of his lips, edging against the ridges of each tooth.
He locks their tongues together. Pulls Juntae’s tongue between his own lips and hollows his cheeks. Then he sucks obscenely.
Little Eunjang moans. Saliva trickles down his chin. He can taste salty tears in the mix of his fluids. Seongje can feel himself strain against the waistband of his tightening jeans. Jesus fuck.
“S-Seongje.” He whines into the kiss. Tries to yank away again.
Seongje lets him this time. If only to catch his own breath. But he doesn’t let up. Not now. Maybe never, now that he’s gotten a taste. Little Eunjang was heroine. He just didn’t know it, it seems. Seongje will show him just how far an addict might go for a fix.
How frenzied a wolf might be once it’s scented it’s next kill.
He shifts from his lips, plants a wet kiss on the corner of his mouth. Trails down to his jaw. Presses his hot mouth there. Juntae whimpers a throaty sound. Like he might be trying to stifle a cry. He uses his hand to pivot Juntae, turning him so his back was flush against Seongje’s erection. Then he spins them both so he was draped over Juntae as he faced the wall.
He licks down to his neck. Tasting every tremble and shiver on his way. Juntae is coming undone in his hold. He leans his weight back into Seongje like he was having a hard time keeping upright. Seongje graces him a solace in that at least. Palming at his hips to keep him steady. He breathes, hot and petting against Juntae’s neck, then he sucks into the skin. Nipping and lapping. Until hickeys bloomed.
Little gifts for Gotak.
Staking his claim for that fucker to eat his heart out.
Juntae’s pained whines only serve to motivate. Seongje decorates where he can on the column of his neck with bruises. Bright, plush and purple. Pulsing with little heartbeats of life Seongje blew into them. He licks at his work. Art so romantic deserved to be appreciated. He gives gentle pecks to the forming bruises. Nosing at the scent of saliva, fear and Juntae’s laundry detergent.
“That was still just one kiss, I didn’t pull my lips off.” He mouthes around the skin beneath Juntae’s ear. Smirking.
Juntae’s hand flits to where Seongje’s settled on his hip and clutches at Seongje’s wrist. He tilts his neck up and peers at Seongje through dewy lashes.
Seongje would kill for that look.
It’s a staggering thought, he would do the unthinkable for trivial things but nothing as minor as a look. Tear-stricken hooded eyes, feverish flush, kiss-swollen, decorated with lovebites and entirely wrecked. He’d choose murder at any turn if it meant he could see it again.
He’d gouge Gotak’s eyes out if he so much as stole a glance at it.
He couldn’t let his little muse go back to Gotak looking thoroughly fucked.
Not when he hasn’t even fucked him yet.