Chapter Text
He’s been in the car for an hour, it’s approaching midnight and he can’t help the annoyance growing within him. He never understood why Woozi insisted on living this far out of the city. Or why he couldn’t bring this thieving scum to Seungcheol so he could deal with it more efficiently.
Seungcheol would be lying if he’d claim to not be nervous.
He shouldn’t be, really. He should be used to shit like this. Growing up around violence and crime should have hardened him, made him untouchable.
And yet his heart is pounding incessantly in his ears and his fingers are itching with nerves.
He cracks his knuckles, one by one, the leather of his gloves groaning as he does so. He wasn’t usually one for gloves, but it felt appropriate today. His father always wears leather gloves when he conducts his business .
The thought of his father sours his mood further. He hadn’t been pleased when he’d gotten word of Seungcheol’s failure. You let some low-life whore steal from you? His tone had been mocking, a callous enjoyment of Seungcheol’s embarrassment. But there was also the ever present look of disappointment. Like he couldn’t believe his own son had grown up to be so incompetent.
Better use this opportunity to send a message, before someone else thinks they can steal from you and get away with it. Seungcheol had thought, secretly, that they should be more impressed than anything. No one had been able to tell him exactly how the drugs had been stolen, only that one week the books added up, the next they were missing two grand worth of cocaine. Woozi had needed another week to find the guilty party, the culprit being so far down the chain of command that he barely existed within the organisation.
He watches the quiet suburb pass him by, trying to collect himself as the car turns into the narrow street where Woozi’s house is situated.
He looks down at his hands, imagines blood staining the black leather. This was about sending a message, but not to anyone who might get brave and try to follow in this man’s footsteps and steal from him, but to his father. This was about proving himself. He was going to show his father that he is strong, capable. Prove that he deserved to take his father’s place at the top one day, that he is capable of more than small-scale drug dealing.
He wishes proving himself didn’t involve murder.
Seungcheol had done a lot of things during his meagre 22 years. When he’d still been in school he’d gotten into his fair share of fights, stirred up trouble and caused as much commotion as he could. He’d threatened people, broken fingers and held a few hostages, but his victims had always walked away breathing.
The car rolls to a stop and Seungcheol is out the door before Wonwoo can kill the engine.
There’s nothing special about the house from the outside. Just a small white building, a little worn, a lot overgrown, but ultimately anonymous and unimposing.
No one would be able to guess the seedy business that passes through the doors on a regular basis.
When he gets inside Woozi and Hoshi are waiting for him. They don’t bother with greetings, Woozi simply gesturing for them to follow him. He leads them to a small door tucked away in the back of the house, swiftly opening it and slipping into the darkness, Hoshi and Seungcheol ducking their heads as they follow him.
“His name’s Yoon Jeonghan. He’s your age. Handsome.” Woozi mutters as they trudge down the stairs. Seungcheol considers commenting on the uncharacteristic compliment, but ultimately decides against it.”Sells for us downtown. Occasionally does business at Jisoo’s as well.”
Seungcheol snorts, at least if he chickened out he could make him work off the money at Jisoo’s, no work training necessary.
They reach the bottom of the stairs, now standing in the dim light of the concrete basement.
The first thing he thinks when he sees the thief is that Woozi’s boys had gone easy on him. His arms are bound behind his back, out of sight, but his long legs lay sprawled out on the floor, only a few stray bruises decorating them. He’d been stripped down to his underwear, bruises littering up his lithe torso, the skin on his shoulders and arms red and irritated where rough hands had handled him. There were usually broken bones. Cuts and bruises and pain that kept their bearer awake due to their own endless groaning. Yet here he is, a little roughed up, a little bloodied, but still sleeping peacefully on the hard concrete floor of a mafia member’s basement.
He gestures for Hoshi and Woozi to stay where they are and walks carefully up to the corner where Jeonghan is sleeping, getting down to a squat in front of him. He sticks a hand under his chin, raising his head until he can look at his sleeping face properly.
Woozi had been right in his comment, he's a beauty, even through the blood and bruises decorating his thin face. His hair is long and dark, hanging in lumpy strands over his shoulders, his lips are thin and delicate and momentarily marvels at the elegance of his bruised cheekbones.
Perhaps he really could make him work off the money instead. With a face like this he’d certainly have no trouble getting clients.
The sleeping man stirs, a quiet groan slipping out as he tugs his face out of Seungcheol’s grip. His eyes flutter open, seeming to be struggling to focus his gaze for a few seconds. When their eyes finally lock there is a hint of something in the man’s eyes, but it only lasts for a fraction of a second before it’s replaced with confusion, giving Seungcheol little chance to deduce it. Jeonghan’s lips are downturned and his eyebrows furrowed, the expression more that of a child just roused from a nap than of someone who’d been kidnapped and beaten by a crime syndicate. The expression tugs at something inside Seungcheol and he suddenly understands why Woozi’s men went easy on him.
He takes his hand back, lets both his forearms rest on his thighs where he’s still squatting in front of the other man.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” He greets. He hears Woozi snort somewhere behind him, no doubt planning on giving him shit later for purposefully lowering his voice. He ignores him, Jeonghan getting his undivided attention.
“We’ve got some things to discuss, you and I,” Jeonghan lets his gaze travel from his face over his shoulder, taking in Woozi and Hoshi where they stand on the other side of the room. His shoulders hunch together as he looks at them, back pressing further into the wall behind him, cowering. Seungcheol makes a conscious decision not to acknowledge the stab of protectiveness in his chest. Instead, he takes hold of Jeonghan’s face and forces him to look back at him.”Eyes on me, sweetheart. Do you know who I am?”
Jeonghan blinks, once, twice, before wordlessly shaking his head. Seungcheol almost wants to coo at him. He didn’t look like the kind of person who’d get tangled up in Seungcheol’s world. He finds himself pitying the man, despite all the trouble he’d gotten in because of his actions.
“My name is Choi Seungcheol, and you,” he lets go of Jeonghan’s face and lets one of his fingers gently tap the tip of his nose.”Have been stealing from me.”
Jeonghan’s eyes widen even further, his breathing picking up and a panicked look taking over his features.
“Please don’t kill me.” He pleads, his voice small and pitiful. He begins squirming where he sits, eyes straying from Seungcheol despite previous orders.”I didn’t have a choice, I promise. I- I can pay you back, please, please don’t kill me-”
Seungcheol leans back as much as he can without losing his balance, taken aback. This wasn’t the first time he’d had someone beg for their life at his feet, yet something felt different this time. Seungcheol wasn’t his father, he didn’t enjoy watching people beg and cry for mercy, but he was still very much involved in this business. While he might not enjoy it, more often than not he could swallow his empathy and go through with whatever had to be done.
So something about the way his heartstrings tug as Jeonghan begs below him has him feeling unnerved.
Jeonghan’s eyes are back on him, now, desperate and pleading. He does his best to sit up properly and scoot closer to where Seungcheol is still squatting in front of him, face angled up as if to reach for him.
“You can fuck me.” He offers, no trace of shame in his voice, something in his eyes looking almost conspiratory.”I feel really good, everyone says so.”
Seungcheol’s throat goes dry at his proposition. Jeonghan was attractive, a handsome face and a beautiful body, despite his current condition. He lets his eyes wander for a split second and imagines having him under him, moaning and whimpering. But no amount of lust could ultimately distract him from the sour taste in his mouth at Jeonghan’s tone. Eager and earnest, like what he said was nothing special. Like he was used to letting people fuck him to avoid getting hurt.
Seungcheol’s lack of response seems to urge Jeonghan on, more filthy propositions falling from his lips.
“I can prove it, I’ll suck your cock right now,” Jeonghan’s voice is touching on frantic, the words coming out of him in a rushed breath. Seungcheol can’t tell if he sounds excited or scared.“I promise it’ll be good, you don’t even have to untie me."
He looks at Jeonghan silently, considers his offer despite his discomfort. If his father was here in his stead he would have laughed mockingly and put him to work. Choi Seungho would have shoved his cock in Jeonghan’s mouth, come down his throat and then killed him anyway, just because he could. Seungcheol’s stomach churns unpleasantly. He isn’t his father.
He hears the shuffling of feet behind him, knows it’s Hoshi growing uncomfortable with Seungcheol’s silence.
“Seungcheol.” His voice is neutral, but Seungcheol knows what it means. Have you forgotten what we’re here for?
He wishes he had Hoshi’s nerves, or even Woozi’s. They’d grown up in this world, all three of them, yet Seungcheol felt he was the only one who got wrapped up in his morals. He's the oldest of them, yet more often than not Hoshi or Woozi would do much of his dirty work for him, even if that dirty work had never included murder before.
Woozi had told him, one night, drunk out of his mind, that it was because Seungcheol was so preoccupied with not turning into his father that he’d gone the other way and become too soft.
“Why’d you steal from me, Jeonghan?” He finally asks, slowly working his leather gloves off his hands and tucking them into his pocket. He was curious, had been since he’d found out about the theft. Looking at Jeonghan now, it didn’t make any sense. Jeonghan had no obvious signs of addiction, and while two grand was certainly a lot of money for most people, he didn’t understand why that was all that had been taken.
Jeonghan, who had been staring up at him eagerly since his lewd proposal, curls in on himself again. He looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t want to answer.
“Answer me, Jeonghan.” He orders, feeling almost like he’s scolding a child.
Jeonghan squirms in his seat on the floor, face turned away, but he finally responds.
“I owe someone money.” It’s a quiet murmur, clearly not something he wanted to admit to.
Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, sceptic.”So you decided to steal from a crime syndicate?”
Jeonghan lets out a whine. Something twists in Seungcheol’s stomach. Jeonghan’s face is still turned away, but from what Seungcheol can see of him he looks almost embarrassed.
“They said they’d kill my grandmother.” Jeonghan looks back at him, eyes sad.”She’s all I have.”
Seungcheol nods slowly. He knows he shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t have talked to the other at all. Should have just walked in, done what he was here for, and then walked out.
He imagines the life slowly seeping out from Jeonghan’s pretty, brown eyes.
Imagines the way he would choke as he was strangled. His tears and whimpers as he was beaten. The fear in his eyes as a gun was trained on him. He could hear the laugh of his father echoing in the back of his head.
He wasn’t going to kill Yoon Jeonghan.
He’d do a lot of things his father asked of him, but he wouldn’t kill a kid his own age for being desperate.
Seungcheol sighs deeply, then groans even deeper as he finally rises from his squat. He wonders what his father will say, but decides to push the thought from his mind. He’d disappointed him before, what was one more time?
When he turns around his gaze immediately locks with Hoshi, the other man staring at him with eyes full of disbelief. He doesn’t acknowledge it, only strides up to Woozi and swiftly pulls out the knife hidden inside his suit jacket. Woozi doesn’t protest, only raises his eyebrows. Are you sure about this?
Seungcheol shrugs, tilts his head a little. Fuck if I know.
When Jeonghan spots the knife he starts to panic, loud nos and pleases spilling from his mouth. Seungcheol pays him no mind, only walks back to him and places a hand on the back of his neck, forcing him to bend forward. He reaches down with the knife and easily fits the blade between Jeonghan’s wrists and the plastic cable ties locking them together.
“Stop squirming or I’ll hurt you.” He murmurs, making sure his voice doesn’t sound threatening. Jeonghan stills immediately and Seungcheol wastes no time cutting the plastic.
Once he’s freed the other man he discards the knife carelessly as Jeonghan sits back up again, focus now trained on the irritated marks decorating Jeonghan’s thin wrists. He runs his hands over them, gently, carefully inspecting the damage, Jeonghan’s dumbstruck face watching him silently as he does so.
Taking in the undressed state of the man, Seungcheol shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Jeonghan’s shoulders. Jeonghan wastes no time pushing his arms through the sleeves and tugging the fabric closer to him, no doubt feeling the chill of the concrete floor after so many hours on it.
No one says anything as Seungcheol helps Jeonghan get to his feet, though Seungcheol doesn’t miss Woozi sighing deeply behind him. He foresees a long, exhausting argument with the younger in the near future.
When Jeonghan is upright Seungcheol is about to let him go, but just as he attempts moving away, Jeonghan’s legs give out. The bruised man lets out a quick gasp as he clutches at Seungcheol for support.
Seungcheol wastes no time picking him up, one arm under his knees, the other holding his back.
When he turns around to walk back up the stairs Hoshi’s looking at him, exasperated.
“Shut up.” Seungcheol hisses as he walks past.
Hoshi throws his hands up.”I didn’t say anything!”
As Seungcheol walks through the house, pointedly avoiding looking at the man in his arms, he feels cold fingers ghosting the back of his neck. He fights back a shiver.
“Where are we going?” Jeonghan asks, voice low. Seungcheol has just managed to maneuver the front door open without dropping him, now heading for the car where Wonwoo is waiting, leaning against the hood of the car.
“My place.” Seungcheol answers, still not looking at Jeonghan. He feels Jeonghan’s head move as he nods in understanding.
When Wonwoo spots Seungcheol coming from the house he quickly jumps into action, having the door open and ready as Seungcheol approaches.
Once he’s genty deposited Jeonghan in the backseat of the car he walks around and gets in on the other side.
“Drive.” He orders Wonwoo, and is endlessly grateful when the younger man starts the car, no questions asked.
Seungcheol drags a hand down his face, lets out a deep groan.
He looks over at Jeonghan. The other man is curled in on himself, eyes trained on his hands where they rest on his bare thighs. He makes an impulse decision.
“How much money do you owe?”
Jeonghan’s face jerks toward him, like he’d forgotten he was in the car with him. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips hang open in a little ‘o’ shape. He looks precious. Seungcheol’s heart skips a beat.
His father was going to kill him when he found out about this.
-
Jeonghan watches Seungcheol closely where he stands on the balcony, careful not to make any sudden movements that might alert the other man that he's awake. He admires his broad back against the bright lights of the city from his place in Seungcheol’s large bed. His eyes following the ember of his cigarette as he raises it to his lips for another long drag.
Choi Seungcheol had surprised him.
He’d offered himself up, innocent and desperate, a persona carefully constructed to fulfill any fantasy of power and possession Seungcheol might harbour, and the other man had barely bat an eyelash at him.
He’d seen the lust there, want pooling in his eyes and hands eager to reach out and touch the body that was so readily offered to him. But he hadn’t acted on it. Had only untied Jeonghan and rubbed his sore wrists. When Jeonghan had let his legs fold in on themselves and clutched at Seungcheol’s shirt, the man had swept him off his feet and carried him to his car. Hands not straying a centimetre.
When they’d gotten back to Seungcheol’s apartment Jeonghan had been certain Seungcheol would give in to his urges, but he was proven wrong once again. Seungcheol had merely cleaned his wounds, lent him a shirt and then sent him to sleep in his own bed.
Maybe the rumours were true, after all. The derisive whispers talking about Choi Seungho’s soft hearted son. Naming him weak and high strung, not at all like his father. This certainly wouldn’t do.
He sees Seungcheol put out his cigarette and take a deep breath. While the other man still has his back turned Jeonghan rolls over, eyes closed once again, and positions himself, arms above his head, duvet below his waist and the shirt Seungcheol had put him in hitched up around his stomach. Picture perfect seduction.
He has a lot of work to do.