Work Text:
At first only the address makes sense to Gi-hun.
He has looked it up on the internet and it easily turned out to be the address of one of the city’s most luxurious hotels.
Knowing that, the number below the address makes sense too– 2703. Gi-hun figures the room is on the 27th floor.
The last 4-digit number on the business card only makes sense once Gi-hun is standing in front of the heavy mahogany door with the elegant, golden 2703 written in its middle.
There is no slot for a keycard, no sensor to hold it up to so the room will open. Instead, there is a digital keypad right next to the handle of the door. The last 4-digit number.
Gi-hun slowly enters the door code and only then does he think about the possibility of the salesman not even being there.
He has no idea about the man’s daily routine, and doesn't even want to know. When he first met him in the subway station, it was late at night. The last time Gi-hun checked the time on his phone, it was close to 11 PM. Isn’t that prime time for the man to roam Seoul’s subway stations for innocent people?
Besides, the salesman had given him the business card three days ago - after a phone call interrupted their twisted game of Russian Roulette and the younger man had to leave. Three days since Gi-hun had won one single round of their Heads or Tails game and chosen a different reward than slapping the salesman in the face. Three days- what if the man had expected Gi-hun to come to the hotel right the next day?
What if the hotel room is occupied by somebody else by now?
Gi-hun’s thoughts are starting to race, the door is opening, and he is there.
The room is dimly lit, only the led lights along the bed and some smaller lamps on the bedside tables are turned on, casting a warm glow on the dark interior of the room.
The window is huge and shows the sparkling night skyline of Seoul, and that’s where he is.
Facing the window, just putting his suit jacket on a hanger, the white dress shirt still immaculate, his expensive leather shoes still on. He must have just come back.
And he must have heard him before, but the salesman only turns around when the heavy door falls back into place, its lock clicking softly.
He turns and immediately, those laser-focused eyes are on Gi-hun. A subtle smile is playing on the salesman’s lips and his voice is kind when he greets him.
“Gi-hun-ssi, what a surprise.”
Gi-hun wants to look around the room, wants to take in the expensive furniture and wants to see if there are traces of the salesman. If there are personal items, take-out food containers, clothes strewn around. His eyes stay locked on the salesman’s.
“Did you come for another game?” The salesman asks when Gi-hun doesn’t greet him back. There’s the hint of a smile, but it’s not quite there. It’s tentative, and his next sentence starts with a sigh, “We never finished our game of Russian Roulette, I fear. Oh, but I have ddakji here. Maybe a few rounds of that?”
He points to the left, and Gi-hun manages to look this time. On the coffee table in the room is the briefcase that ruined his life in that subway station three years ago. He doesn’t focus on it, instead notices that the bed is still made and there are no food containers to be seen. Gi-hun doesn’t look for personal items, looks back at the younger man.
He slowly shakes his head and makes sure his voice is strong when he speaks, “No. I’m not here to play games.”
It’s not really subtle, the way the salesman’s face changes at that. The small smile drops away and there’s a twitch somewhere in his face that Gi-hun would almost mistake for disappointment.
“What are you here for then?” The man asks, taking one step closer to Gi-hun, still at a very safe distance.
What is Gi-hun here for?
He thinks about the dead people. About his dead friends . He thinks about the games. About the blood and the betrayal and the torture. The innocent people, the violence, the death.
Gi-hun could be here to get information about the game. About the island, about the leaders, about these monsters.
He could.
He could ask him about all of them. Could threaten him, could even get violent.
He could.
For some reason, what comes out of his mouth instead, is, “You liked it.”
The smile is there before he speaks, casual and light-hearted. “Of course. I love to play games. That’s why I love my job,” the smile grows and the salesman adds, “Among other things.”
Gi-hun bites his lip. He knows exactly what these other things mean. He focuses.
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Oh?” The salesman tilts his head, his eyebrows raising and making his eyes bigger. He looks innocent and Gi-hun hates it. A fluttering feeling spreads in his belly, just faint enough for Gi-hun to ignore. “What are you talking about then?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
The head with the perfectly styled hair tilts more. “Do I? I’m not sure. I liked a lot of things about our last meeting. I liked the room. I liked the music. I liked our conversation. I liked the roulette game, even if we never finished it. I liked the thrill of it. I liked the atmosphere.”
Gi-hun is quiet. He knows he is being played with. He also knows that he just needs to withstand it and that the tables will turn soon enough. He just needs to get there. He’s gotten there once before.
“I’m talking about something else that you liked,” he says finally, not much emotion in his voice.
When Gi-hun takes a step forward, so does the salesman.
“Please enlighten me, Gi-hun-ssi.” The smile on his face is that of a prime salesman that can convince people to buy whatever useless product they are selling, no matter how bad the value for money.
Gi-hun takes another step, a bigger one, and the salesman doesn’t. Gi-hun's next words taste bigger, too.
“You liked having my cock down your throat.”
The smile doesn’t move, and Gi-hun wants to know how much effort the salesman is putting into that. Is he fighting not to let any emotion show on his face or is he fighting to not break out into a full-blown grin? Whatever it is, the man takes a few moments for that and only then retorts.
“So did you, considering the way you were holding my head in place as you had your cock down my throat.”
It’s getting hard to ignore, the flutter in his belly, and Gi-hun tries to take a subtle breath.
The salesman speaks again before Gi-hun can, and the tone sounds close to defense. Gi-hun knows he’s going in the right direction, and he takes another step. The safe distance is closing in on them.
“May I remind you, that you were the one requesting it as reward for winning the game,” the younger man’s voice is bland with something clipped to it.
“That’s true,” Gi-hun nods. First the carrot, then the stick. “But you would have done it without the game. You wanted it.”
“I did it because it was only fair. You let me slap you when you lost. I did what I did because I lost. It was the game.” The look on the salesman’s face is cold, as if his target sees through the scam and declines all of the offers he makes. As if he knows that he's cannot get out of this.
“Was it?” Gi-hun steps closer. It’s hard to fight a smile on his face now that the salesman has lost his own. It’s impossible to ignore the feeling now, and he doesn’t even try to ignore his cock slowly hardening in his jeans.
“It was you thinking of that perverted reward. It was you asking me to suck your cock. You would have done it, too, had I asked you to do it instead of letting me slap you.
The next step makes the salesman step back. Safe distance is long over, and now Gihun smiles as he softly says, “Yet you were the one on your knees, whining and calling me hyung when you didn’t have your mouth full of my cock.”
There’s a twitch of an eyebrow, and he’s speechless. The grin on Gi-hun’s lips is as unstoppable as his hard-on.
There is a moment of silence, until Gi-hun breaks it purposefully.
“Do it again,” the father’s voice is low but strong. Commanding, and causing another eyebrow twitch.
The salesman’s chest is rising noticeably and Gi-hun knows his stomach is fluttering just as hard. He doesn’t look down to check for the state of his slacks.
There’s the touch of a stutter when the salesman says, “We’re not playing any game. There is no reward. There is no loser. Why would I?”
“I know,” Gi-hun nods seriously and the salesman not giving him a definite ‘no’ immediately is all he needs to know. He is close enough to touch and he does, reaching out to the salesman’s tie. He fiddles with it for a second, then loosens it. The salesman doesn’t react, so Gi-hun goes on. “It’s okay. It’s no game, but you can do it anyway. There doesn’t have to be a loser. It’s a win-win situation.”
The confession that Gi-hun wants it, too, feels dangerous but so good, his cock twitching in his jeans, and it feels even better to see the look in the salesman’s eyes. Dark becoming darker, focused becoming hungry.
He’s not speaking, and Gi-hun doesn’t know if the man is already so deep that it’s hard for him to form words. He doubts it, though, they’ve barely just begun.
“Listen,” the older says, sharper than intended but it makes the man in front of him hitch a breath and so Gi-hun regrets nothing. “We can pick up where we left off, play Russian Roulette. We finish it this time. Let’s up the ante and we put two bullets in the revolver.”
The salesman’s eyebrows furrow, much more expressive than his usual facial expressions, the half-smiles and the eyes. Gi-hun interprets it as the man truly not wanting to play that game right now. Good; neither does he.
“Or?” The man is looking for an exit, for an alternative.
Gi-hun gives it to him, “Or you get down on your knees right now.”
The man’s lips part with no sound leaving them.
Gi-hun is getting impatient. His eyes flicker down to the floor, noting the big bulge in the dark slacks on their way. “Down,” he says, like a dog-owner would say to a pet that is on the couch where it’s not supposed to be. “I’m not going to repeat myself.”
It feels like slow motion, the way the salesman sinks down in front of him, all while his eyes are still trained on Gi-hun’s. He sinks down on one knee first, then the second, until his face is just at the level of Gi-hun’s crotch.
“Good,” the father hums, barely containing the ‘boy’ that he wants to add.
Wouldn’t it be weird? There is a fully grown, middle-aged man in front of him. He can’t be much younger than Gi-hun, a couple of years only, for sure. And he’s not just a man, he’s a killer, one of those monsters.
Gi-hun apparently can’t call him a good boy, only good. No use to think about such things now; some other time, perhaps.
Gi-hun reaches down to the fly of his jeans, unbuttons them and pulls down the zipper.
“You want it?” Gi-hun asks even before his cock is out of his pants. The salesman’s eyes are focused on the opened fly of Gi-hun’s pants. His hands that hung limply at his sides move, and for a second the older man thinks that he’s going to open the pants himself, but in the end they just come to rest on his thighs. This time, Gi-hun does repeat himself, now more enunciated, and a little louder. “Do you want it?”
The salesman looks up, eyes big and dark and beautiful, and he sounds nearly hypnotized when he mutters, “Win-win.”
Gi-hun smiles and nods. He pulls down his jeans and underwear in one go, the cool air of the hotel room hitting his erect cock in something soothing.
“No hands this time,” Gi-hun says when he sees the man’s killer hands move again. There is no comment, just the salesman staring at him as he leans in, stretching his neck a little to gingerly take Gi-hun’s cock in his mouth.
He’s been thinking about it.Three days.
The first night, that night, was something of a blessing. So much going on in Gi-hun’s head that he couldn’t think of anything, and just passed out once he hit his bed.
The following three days were hell.
Thoughts of a hot mouth were haunting him, of dark eyes and soft hair and smooth skin. God, and the wetness around his cock. Gi-hun slept and drank and he cried at some point, overwhelmed with what had happened and how it had made him feel.
It was bad, it felt bad, yet it was so good each time Gi-hun found himself with his hand wrapped around his cock. Multiple times a day, his mind full of black and hot and wet, but his own hand is dry and lukewarm at best.
His hand has no deep dark eyes staring up at his as it lapped at his cock.
Those hellish three days are over now.
Now, that the salesman’s hot, hot mouth is around his length, not teasing the head of his cock today, just taking him half-way down right from the beginning, getting him wet and somehow harder in his mouth.
“Deeper,” Gi-hun demands and there is no fight, just pure obedience as the salesman leans in further, taking the cock deeper, halting there, with his nose nearly touching Gi-hun’s happy trail. He’s breathing through his nose, heavily, and when he pulls back, he doesn’t pull off. Just far enough to swirl his tongue at the cockhead, slowly working himself back to take more of him.
This time, after he’s got him all the way back in his throat, he pulls of entirely, the cold air around Gi-hun’s wet cock now less soothing and more punishing.
“Fuck,” Gi-hun sighs, having to control himself not to thrust back into the warm mouth before him. His eyes close, and when he opens them again, he’s looking at Seoul.
They’re still in front of the window, his sight unrestricted now that the salesman is not blocking it anymore; now that he’s there on his knees, licking at Gi-hun’s cock.
Seoul is sparkling at him, with its million artificial lights, the starless sky, dark and yet much lighter than the eyes of the salesman. Gi-hun stares outside and his thoughts spiral, about getting his cock sucked by a man who is responsible for the deaths of so many people, in the middle of Seoul, in the 27th floor of a hotel that Gi-hun could afford now only because hundreds of people died for it.
There are no changes of light in the scenery outside even if at least a few people must be turning their lamps on and off somewhere in the city.
Suddenly, there is a loud noise, something close to a growl, and the slightest scrape of teeth at the head of his cock. Gi-hun’s eyes snap back down to the salesman.
He’s staring up, a frown deep between his brows, looking upset with his cheeks still hollowed.
The crease on his forehead only mends when Gi-hun’s eyes stay on him, not retreating to the night skyline. Gi-hun can’t help but coo loudly.
His hand moves on its own, threading through soft, black strands, a couple of times, almost petting his head, before settling somewhere with thick strands between his fingers, just holding loosely.
Gi-hun hums, and he wants to close his eyes in bliss but he doesn’t want to upset the salesman again, so he keeps looking and his mouth keeps spilling weightless words. “Good, you’re doing so good. Feels so good.”
The salesman is alternating between slow and deep, then back at quicker little licks all along Gi-hun’s cock. The father wants to ask how he is so good at that, where he’s learned all that.
How many cocks he must have sucked to have no gag reflex. What positions he had gained by using his body; by having his body used.
But Gi-hun’s nicer than that. Much nicer.
“Touch yourself,” he says, the structure a demand but his tone mellow.
A slight frown appears on the elegant features that Gi-hun doesn't quite understand. He doesn’t see it from up there, but he’s sure the salesman must be rock-hard in his pants.
He encourages him, “Come on. Win-win, right?” It’s like a magic word.
The salesman hums around his cock and his hands move finally from his thighs.
Gi-hun feels his fist ball around the hair in his hand.
He wants to touch. Wants to see the salesman’s cock, if he’s as pretty and flawless as his face. If he’s big. Gi-hun wants to, but touching him, that would require a change of position. A change of something else .
Gi-hun wants, he wants to see if the salesman’s eyebrows will crease or if his face relaxes when he touches his cock. But he shouldn’t.
The younger man can do it himself, after all. Gi-hun has given him permission.
Gi-hun drops his train of thought and moves his hips, thrusting into the salesman’s tight mouth.
Now that he’s touching himself, the blowjob has gotten much sloppier. The salesman is humming and moaning around his cock, the obscene noises he makes from his throat mixing with the wet sound of saliva and pre-come.
Gi-hun moves more, harder, letting his hips chase the pleasure, and it’s not long before he can feel the orgasm build up inside him.
The salesman’s eyes are half-lidded, his tongue not doing much more as Gi-hun mindlessly fucks his mouth. He’s not going to last much longer.
"Do you want to swallow my come?” he grunts, forcing himself to slow down so that he doesn’t shoot off too early. It’s incredibly hard.
The salesman’s answer is frantic, all without words. he’s nodding around Gi-hun’s cock, humming in an affirmative way, his eyes widening with want.
It’s hot, it’s good, perfect, but Gi-hun wants more. He tightens his grip on the dark hair, then pulls.
The salesman’s head gets yanked off his cock, a trail of saliva breaking where thy had been connected a second ago.
“Tell me,” Gi-hun says, his voice gruff as if he’d been the one with a cock down his throat. The salesman’s voice is much worse.
“I want to swallow your come.” Again, no resistance, only obedience. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please, sir,” he sounds frantic, his eyes big and searching, and now Gi-hun is convinced that it’s hard for him to piece his words and sentences together. He looks nearly adorable, and Gi-hun’s other hand comes up to the man’s face, stroking along his rosy cheek.
“Not so formal,” he says softly, the ‘baby’ as hard to hold back as the ‘boy’.
The salesman gets it immediately, his face leaning into the soft touch as he begs, “Please, hyung. Please come in my mouth.”
The hand on his cheek pats the soft skin twice, not hard enough to be a slap, but feelable.
The salesman is breathing hard, harder than he had been while sucking Gi-hun off, and he looks so beautiful, so docile and perfect, that Gihun really can’t stop it this time.
It’s breathed out, barely has volume, but they both hear it.
“Good boy.”
He shifts around on his knees, which must hurt like hell by now, he moans around nothing and his eyes screw shut for a second. His face is an artwork of obscenity. Eyes closed, mouth open, lips spit-slick, freezing like that for a couple of seconds.
And after that moment of pure lack of concentration, the salesman is staring again, whining loudly at what’s happening right in front of his face. God, he’s greedy, Gi-hun thinks with no negative connotation at all, as he jerks his cock with the hand that had just been on the other man’s face.
The whine gets registered as the complaint it is, and Gi-hun thrusts into the salesman’s mouth again, and in less than a few seconds he’s coming.
There are no thoughts at that moment. No death, no torture, no roulette, no games. Nothing but the sweet feeling of an orgasm washing over him. This is true bliss.
It’s not as dirty as last time, the salesman doesn’t have come on his lips that he licks off. He just swallows and then he sinks down, his weight no more on his knees, but he’s sitting down on his legs.
They are looking at each other in silence, the salesman’s eyes dazed and not moving, while Gi-hun lets his eyes run all over the man’s face. The swollen lips, the pink skin, the sweat building near his hairline, now drying again. Gi-hun comes back to dark eyes, and they’re looking at each other again.
Both his hands now come to the man's face, softly trailing down his cheeks in sync, feeling the hot skin under his fingertips. The salesman licks his lips, Gi-hun can’t help but look, but he doesn’t dare to do so for too long.
His eyes trail own further, into the man’s lap, and he sees pants.
The salesman had never opened his slacks, never pulled them down. Gi-hun frowns, there’s no tent there, just a- his breathing stops- just a wet spot on the dark material.
Gi-hun’s cock gives a weak kick at the salesman coming in his pants, but this is enough.
It's hard, he knows he wants more, but he also knows he shouldn't. He cannot.
Gi-hun drops his hands, steps back, pulls his pants back up, tucks himself in.
His phone is still in the jacket and he pulls it out to catch a quick glance at the time. It’s not quite midnight yet.
Gi-hun clears his throat. He can’t quite hold eye contact with the man on the floor. “I- uh, I have to catch the last train.”
The salesman says nothing, doesn’t react at all. He’s sitting there, hands in his lap, eyes dark but not as wide anymore. He looks sleepy, soft.
The Squid Game winner doesn’t know what to do, so he leaves.
The door is heavy and loud as it closes behind him, and the hallway is big and empty. He looks at his phone again. Only one minute has passed. One minute closer to midnight.
They both know that the last subway train runs at 0:40.