Chapter Text
A fucking flat tire.
That’s how Hwang In-ho, the dreaded leader of the Kkangpae, meets the love of his life.
He curses as he slams the door to his car, while his frantic driver gets to work. Then, his mind catches up with his surroundings. With the traffic at this hour, he expected to be far away from their base of operations. Unfortunately, his driver must have taken a few detours and side streets to get home quickly. Since he was preoccupied with his phone, In-ho didn’t realize this exact neighborhood until now. It’s the red-light district, where he owns several businesses. He tries to stay away from this area, but tonight, fate’s led him down this road again.
His fingers twitch for a moment, yearning to grab the hidden pistol in his coat. Since he’s standing out in the open, he could be a sitting duck for rival gang members. Most of them would love to put his head on a platter for slaughtering their coworkers or superiors. Or worse, his own colleagues could try to stab him through the back. Perhaps they even wish to rise through the ranks of their own operations. Through the years, he’s learned several key lessons when it comes to stamping out dissent. He’s never been one to show mercy. That’s how he’s managed to stay in charge for so long. Rumors of his cutthroat, ruthless behavior extends far and wide. Even his own drivers are terrified to disobey. He watches the man for a moment as he fiddles with the jack and hurriedly tries to change the car tire.
“How much longer?” In-ho snaps.
His driver flinches, “Apologies, Mr. Hwang. Just another few minutes.”
In-ho forces himself to survey his surroundings. He avoids this area for several reasons. After his wife passed, he’s been in a strange state of celibacy for over ten years. No man or woman entices him anymore. He hates the trash that passes by this area, scouring the streets for a nightly companion or two. Most of them are crass or rude, so that behavior often gets on his nerves. The air stinks of cheap liquor and cigarette smoke. He avoids eye contact with a few desperate ladies across the street in skintight dresses and heels. Then, a hand taps his shoulder and he nearly unsheathes his pocket knife to slice their fingers off.
“Sir, would you care for some company tonight?” a man purrs. “I can make it worth your while.”
That perfect voice sends a chill down his spine. He turns around, spotting the most beautiful young man he’s seen in years. He’s wearing a pair of red booty shorts and a skintight, sheer shirt. With his cheeky smile and a mischievous twinkle in his soft, brown eyes, In-ho falls silent and loses his composure. But an odd thought crosses his mind when he inspects this young man. How old is he? Before he can ask, his smile grows wider as he continues speaking in a lilting tone.
“Ahjussi,” he repeats, trailing a hand up his arm. “I asked, would you like some company?”
In-ho clears his throat, “Uh - no. No, thank you.”
“Discounted rate for first time customers,” he adds with a wink. “And I can do all sorts of positions - ”
“No, please,” he interrupts. “Just…just leave me alone.”
“Why not?” he whines with a pout on his pretty, soft lips. “Sir, if you don’t buy my services tonight, I’ll…I’ll have to go with them.”
He points across the street and In-ho’s heart skips a beat. He fought those dreadful gangsters in a shootout last month.
“Them?” he asks.
The young man nods, his face falling in despair. “They’re very rough with me, ahjussi.”
In-ho laughs in a hollow tone, “If you’re looking for sympathy, I’m afraid I can’t give you any. I’m not some heroic savior. Do you even know who I am?”
“Not really,” he laughs. “But you’re new, right? I haven’t seen you here before. I figured you’re looking for a - ”
Suddenly, a gunshot rings out across the street. Then, another one hits the brick wall beside his head. In-ho ducks with a sharp curse and looks over at the gangsters. They’ve definitely recognized his face and judging from their furious reactions, they’re calling for reinforcements. Another man aims at his tires, but the bullet ricochets off and nearly hits him in the leg. He yearns to grab his pistol and shoot their heads off right now. Instead, he makes the executive decision to flee now. He’ll have his revenge on another day when he has support from his fellow colleagues. The prostitute shrieks when he grabs his shoulders and shoves him behind the car for protection. More bullets fly through the air, hitting the bricks where they once stood.
“What’s your name?” In-ho asks, shielding his head from danger.
“Seong Gi-hun,” the man whimpers. “Please, sir. I don’t want to - ”
“Mr. Hwang, the tire’s all changed,” his driver calls out, getting into the front seat. “Let’s go!”
Against his better judgement, In-ho shoves the prostitute into the back and climbs in after him. The windows have been smashed to pieces, while shards of glass litter the leather seats. Their car tires squeal as they race out of the district. Onlookers stare curiously at this scene. Several have already fled when they heard the gunshots, hiding in the alleyways for safety. In-ho doesn’t breathe for a second until they’re out of this neighborhood. When the car finally reaches the highway, he releases a sigh of relief. He looks down at the prostitute, shaking with adrenaline from the brief fight.
“Gi-hun, right?” he asks, extending a hand. “You can come out now.”
The young man is huddled beneath the seats, trembling from head to foot. Bleeding cuts from the glass shards cover his arms. In-ho knows that he doesn’t look any better either. He’s probably drenched in spots of blood too. He expects the prostitute to burst into tears, but to his amazement, he grabs his hand and begins laughing.
“I’ve never been shot at before,” he grins. “I can’t believe we survived that, sir.”
“In-ho,” he insists. “Call me by my name.”
He gasps, putting the pieces together in his head. “Holy shit, you’re…you’re…”
“So, now you recognize me?”
Gi-hun slaps his shoulder, “You fucking - you should’ve told me who you are!”
“I was going to, but then…well, they started shooting at us. Would you have left with those men instead?”
He shakes his head, sinking into the seat. “No, but…but you’re the leader of the Kkangpae! What were you doing there?”
“I wasn’t looking for a companion,” he explains. “My driver took a detour and we ended up there. I mean, I do own a few clubs. I hardly visit them in person, though.”
“The strip clubs? Why not?” he asks, crossing his arms.
“Because I don't…I’m not that kind of person,” he mutters, casting his eyes to his lap in shame.
In-ho often imagines his wife’s reactions to his crimes. What would she say if she could see him now? In the backseat of a stolen car, running from a rival gang and in the company of a young prostitute? He still hasn’t asked for his exact age either. He’s not sure if he wants to know. If he had to guess, he’s probably in his late twenties.
Gi-hun keeps a close eye on him as they drive home. When his driver announces their arrival, he nearly winces in pain. His leg’s definitely been through some damage, but he tries to hide his limp as the adrenaline wears off. Meanwhile, Gi-hun frowns as he inspects the tiny, desolate apartment complex.
“This is where you live, Mr. Hwang? It’s a bit run-down, isn’t it?”
“And you’d better not tell anyone,” he snarls. “Understood? I’ll pay double to keep you quiet.”
He rolls his eyes in a bratty way, “Who would I even tell? It’s not like I’ll go to the police. I’m doing illegal shit too, ahjussi.”
Right, he’s a fucking prostitute. That detail almost slipped his mind. In-ho makes his way to the entrance, where a hidden basement door leads to his base of operations. People often stay here for the night, especially if they’re pulling a job or a special heist. He’s accustomed to seeing his second-in-command or other colleagues milling around at late hours. When he opens the door, he spots his closest advisor lounging on a couch and counting their latest winnings from the bank robbery yesterday. His face splits into a wide grin.
“Boss, No-eul wanted me to tell you - hey, who the hell is that?”
Heavy machine guns are drawn in every corner of the small room. Gi-hun whimpers, hiding behind the dreaded leader of the Kkangpae as every guard points their weapon in his direction. In-ho only smiles at his reaction.
“Ji-cheol, relax. All of you, stand down. He’s with me.”
In-ho’s closest friend takes a good look at his attire and starts laughing. He pats his shoulder in approval.
“Good for you, boss,” he winks. “You deserve to relax for one night. Hey, if he doesn’t mind, you can send him to my room once you’re finished.”
Ji-cheol sounds like the only one who can speak to him in such a brazen manner. The other guards only nod or bow in his direction as In-ho keeps a close hand on his waist. When they arrive at his room, he locks the door behind them. Gi-hun expects the mob leader to pounce on him. Most of his clients often do that when they’re finally in a private setting. They can’t resist his temptation any longer and yearn to get their money’s worth.
To his utmost amazement, In-ho collapses to the ground and winces in pain.
“Sir!” he gasps. “What’s wrong?”
“My leg, ah - I think a bullet got - ”
“It’s ok,” Gi-hun whispers. “I know some first-aid. Do you have a kit anywhere?”
He gently maneuvers his client onto the bed and props his foot up on the pillow. Gi-hun quickly pulls his shoes and socks off before shoving his pants leg up. He flinches when he spots the bullet wound near his knee. Blood drips down his legs. Luckily, it hasn’t gone too deep. He can definitely handle this type of situation.
“Bathroom,” In-ho explains in a ragged voice, wiping his sweaty forehead. “First cabinet on the left.”
Gi-hun hurries over and grabs the first-aid kit. When he opens the lid, he spots a wide array of bandages and alcohol. First, he grabs the tweezers and gently begins extracting the bullet from his skin. At his first tug, In-ho hisses in pain and tries to pull away from him. Gi-hun only holds him firmly in place, offering a bottle of painkillers to block out the agony.
“Don’t move,” he instructs. “I don’t want to hurt you even more.”
In-ho chuckles as he accepts a pill, “Funny, that’s something I often say.”
The pair share a smile as he continues digging the bullet out of his leg. After several minutes, Gi-hun manages to extract it and starts disinfecting his wound with a bottle of sterile alcohol. Aside from a soft hiss, In-ho remains relatively quiet the whole time. Gi-hun wonders about his pain tolerance threshold. Once the wound has stopped bleeding, he wraps his leg in a thick layer of gauze and bandages. They fall into a comfortable silence until In-ho asks a serious question.
“Nobody’s ever done this for me before,” he admits in a quiet voice. “How…how are you so good at this?”
His face falls, “Well, in my line of work, you really have to - learn how to take care of yourself.”
He remembers the day it all started. If he hadn’t taken Jung-bae’s offer and started betting at the horse racing track, he never would’ve been attacked by his loan shark. Given the choice between selling his organs or selling his body, he eventually swallowed down the shame to accept the latter. But even if he’s working to pay off his debts, Mr. Kim is still a cruel boss. He recalls one evening where a client left him bruised and bloodied with three broken bones after he refused to pleasure his friends too. The loan shark only scoffed in his face.
You can’t work in this brothel and expect them not to hurt you. Aish, put your clothes on and stop crying.
Those memories flash through his mind as he sits on the floor, carefully tying the bandages with a well trained knot. Most of his clients are bored or eager to take their frustrations out on a disposable thing. Gi-hun hastily puts the medicine kit aside and cleans up the mess. When he’s done, he shivers when the mob boss places a hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you. Truly, Gi-hun-ssi.”
He smiles, “Well, I wouldn’t want you to waste away. How else would I get my payment?”
“Payment?” he repeats, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Oh, you know…for my services, sir.”
In-ho doesn’t get another word out as he sinks down to pull off his pants and stroke his cock.
He shudders underneath his trained, experienced touch. Gi-hun smiles at his reaction as he bends down, softly licking at the tip of his length. At the taste of this dangerous man, a wave of arousal sparks through his veins. His tongue eagerly traces across his cock before taking the whole thing into his mouth in one attempt. The mob boss grips his head tighter, digging his fingers into his hair as his length enters his throat.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Just like that. Go deeper.”
Gi-hun moans against his length as his head bobs up and down. He’s done this so many times that he doesn’t have a gag reflex anymore. When the mob boss starts shaking, he knows he’s approaching his peak. His warm release shoots down his throat as he eagerly swallows the whole thing. After he pulls out, Gi-hun licks the tip of his cock to clean him up and gives him a flirty little wink.
“You alright there, ahjussi?” he asks.
In-ho’s face grows flushed at his cheeky gaze. He expects him to drag him into his lap or bend him over, but he looks too tired for tonight. Instead, they end up cuddling as the mob boss pulls him against his chest.
“How was it?” Gi-hun whispers.
“So good,” he admits. “I’m…I’m sorry I got injured. We could’ve done more tonight.”
His hand traces his bare chest, “I don’t mind. I’d prefer a calmer night than what I normally do.”
In-ho frowns, “How long have you been a prostitute? And how old are you?”
“I was born in 1990, Ahjussi. And I really can’t remember - about a year now?”
“Oh, thank goodness,” he sighs. “We’re only fifteen years apart.”
He laughs, “How old did you think I was?”
“I don’t know? Twenty something?” In-ho replies as his face grows red.
He winks, “I’ve been told I look very youthful for my age.”
“And you got into this line of work because…”
“My debts,” Gi-hun admits. “I took out too many loans and gambled them away, so I couldn’t pay them back. He offered me the choice between selling my body or getting my organs cut out.”
He expects the mob boss to be familiar with those seedy, unsavory businesses. To his surprise, he buries his face in the crook of his neck. Perhaps the painkillers have lowered his inhibitions far more than usual. Gi-hun never would’ve expected this dangerous man to be so friendly. Before he can ask questions about his line of work, a loud snore erupts from his side of the bed. He’s fallen fast asleep.
Gi-hun smiles at his relaxed features, running a finger over his calloused, scarred cheek. Even if he tries his best, he can’t fall asleep in his arms. Once he’s in the deepest cycles of slumber, he slowly extracts himself from the mob boss’s embrace. He never allows himself to stay the night.
As he’s getting dressed, Gi-hun suddenly notices his client’s pants and belt. His wallet peeks out of the fabric and he immediately lunges for the money. For a heartstopping moment, he’s terrified that he shouldn’t be doing this. But In-ho did promise to pay him before they entered the bedroom. Surely, he won’t mind? He stuffs a bundle of cash in his pockets.
He’s surprised to see very few guards on the premises. Once he’s outside, Gi-hun scans the empty, dark streets before calling a friend. Jung-bae’s place isn’t too far from this neighborhood. To his relief, he picks up on the second ring and sighs in annoyance.
“This better be good,” he murmurs. “I was just about to fall asleep.”
“Could you pick me up?” Gi-hun begs. “Please? I’ll pay you!”
“Take a bus or something!”
“I would, but I don’t know where I am,” he admits with a light chuckle. “Please? My boss will kill me if I come late!”
After he drops a pin, his friend arrives within the next hour. Gi-hun shakes with adrenaline the entire time. Mr. Hwang’s money weighs heavily in his pockets as they glide through the empty streets. Before long, he’s back in the red-light district and Jung-bae sighs when he parks on the right road.
“Gi-hun-ah, I’m worried about you,” he frowns. “You shouldn’t be going off with random strangers in the dead of night.”
“That’s literally my job!”
“Still! It’s not safe,” he points out. “Tell your loan shark that - ”
He opens the door and rolls his eyes, “Just trust me, I’ll be fine. I only need to work here for another year or so until it’s all paid off.”
“That’s not the point - ”
“Trust me,” he repeats. “Ok?”
Jung-bae’s worried face stays in his mind after he departs the scene. Even if he’s a decade or two older, Gi-hun’s always considered him to be a family friend. His footsteps echo through the stairwell as he uses the back entrance to the brothel. Mr. Kim’s always up at late hours as he hosts dozens of clients. Since he’s not in his office, Gi-hun deduces that he must be inside. He steels his nerves as he approaches the main floor. Even if he’s worked here for months, he loathes that main area where guests with wandering hands and lewd tongues often approach him without warning.
When he finally spots Mr. Kim in the crowd, he’s seated at a VIP lounge chair with a glass of whiskey. One of the newest workers is sitting between his legs and pleasuring him with her mouth. Gi-hun flinches at the repulsive sight. He knows that feeling all too well. During his first week, he was in that same position until other clients began purchasing his services. He knows better than to interrupt his boss.
After he finishes and dismisses the girl, he frowns at the sight of Gi-hun. His hand shakes when he takes out the bundle of cash. Dim lighting and soft music create an eerie atmosphere.
“Sir, I - ”
“You’re late!” he snarls. “I told you to get those men in here! What happened?”
He grimaces at the mention of those gangsters, “I…I didn’t like them.”
Mr. Kim scoffs, “This is the tenth time this month. Those men would’ve paid a fortune for you. And instead, you wandered off with - who the hell was that?”
Gi-hun hesitates, “Someone very rich. And he did pay me! Look, sir!”
“I don’t care,” he snaps, snatching the money from his hands. “You’re fired, Seong. Get out of my establishment.”
His stomach sinks to the floor. He swears that his heart nearly stops beating at that very second. No, he must have misheard.
“You can’t do that!” he whines. “I’ve spent months doing all sorts of disgusting things - ”
“And you’re finished,” Mr. Kim adds. “I told you that I’d kick you out if you kept rebelling and running off. You’re supposed to sleep with the people I pick, you fucking whore. Go find another job and pay me back. Or I’ll be taking your organs instead.”
His threat runs through his head as he drops to his knees. At this point, Gi-hun relinquishes any dignity left in his soul. The loan shark only laughs in his face when he grabs his leg, desperately begging for his position.
“Out!” he repeats, nearly kicking him in the face. “Or I’ll call the bouncer.”
Bystanders stare with a mix of disgust and pity. He trudges over to his dismal room and grabs any meager belongings. A stench of cheap cologne and stale cigarette smoke lingers in the stifling air. Gi-hun often dreamed of leaving this horrible place and saying good riddance. But right now, he wonders if he can even find employment in such a short amount of time. He’s been living in his car for months. Without any family to depend on, who can he turn to?
He doesn’t sleep that night. Gi-hun tosses and turns in the backseat, hoping for the rising sun. When he finally manages to doze off, he wakes up with tears on his cheeks. He checks the date on his phone. If he doesn’t make his payment by the end of the week, he’ll be forced to give up a kidney or two. And his heart. And that’s if Mr. Kim is in a pleasant mood.
After he sends another text to Jung-bae, the reply arrives instantly.
Sorry, you can’t crash here anymore. My wife heard you’re a sex worker. And you know how she’ll react.
“Fuck,” he groans, running a hand down his face. “Fucking hell.”
He scrolls through his contacts until he realizes a damning truth. Nobody can help him right now. His other option was Sang-woo, but he’s hardly in town these days. He’s always off on some overseas business trip with his fancy investor job. Gi-hun always feels a wave of envy towards his old friend’s success, while he’s struggling to pay off debts and live on the streets. He grabs a hoodie and jumps out of the car to stretch his legs. The streets are deserted at this early morning hour, since he’s parked near a residential, hilly area. He spots a pair of joggers and children headed to school, but that’s pretty much it. Gi-hun shivers in his shorts and grabs a pair of sweatpants from the trunk for the cold air.
Then, he notices a tall shadow looming over his body. Before he can turn around, a heavy weight slams into the back of his neck and he falls into darkness.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When he wakes up, his arms are tied behind his back.
He winces at his splitting headache and the searing bruise on his neck. As he tries to sit, Gi-hun collapses when a wave of dizziness seizes his senses. The dark room exacerbates his anxieties. He has no idea where he is or who kidnapped him. But he has a sneaking suspicion.
He spends hours in isolation. Gi-hun doesn’t have a watch or any windows to check the hour of the day. Eventually, a pair of masked guards with machine guns arrive to escort him. Gi-hun whines when they shove a blindfold over his eyes, drowning his sight in darkness. They march him through several long corridors, while his footsteps echo in the eerie din. He shivers the entire time, wondering how he’ll be punished or tortured.
Eventually, they enter a hall full of merry, chattering guests. Gi-hun swears that he hears a slot machine and card decks shuffled several times. Tinkling laughter and the spin of a roulette wheel echoes in his ears. Is he inside a casino? He remembers frequenting these establishments, but judging by the carpentry, this one is for a wealthier clientele. Before he can ask a question, the guards march him up a flight of stairs, where he nearly trips over his own feet. Then, he’s unceremoniously shoved to his knees. As the blindfold is ripped from his eyes, he knows that he’s in way over his head.
Mr. Hwang looms over him like a terrible devil on his throne. He’s seated with his legs crossed, staring down at him like he’s a piece of trash, while another pair of masked guards flank his side. With his expensive three piece suit and a crystal glass of whiskey, he’s the epitome of indulgent wealth. Everything that he’s always craved, but he’s never gotten to taste. As he struggles to come up with an explanation, he’s aware of the lower conversations in the casino. All eyes turn to him with pity. The poor, unfortunate soul who’s crossed this horrible man. The one who may not live to tell the tale.
“Ran off, didn’t we?” he asks in a low, dangerous voice.
“I…I…”
Gi-hun whimpers, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He prays for another person to save him, but nobody arrives to his aid. He’ll be lucky to survive this encounter.
Then, Mr. Hwang’s gloved hand shoots out and wraps around his neck.
The next one follows right after. He gasps, struggling to inhale a full breath. In response, the mob boss presses tighter against his pale, sensitive skin. His fingers dig into his flesh, yearning to inflict greater pain. A high-pitched, whining whimper escapes his lips as he tries to escape his clutches. Mr. Hwang whispers into his ear.
“You thieving slut,” he snarls. “I’ve killed men for lesser crimes. Just for breathing the wrong way. You’re nothing but a cheap whore. Tell me why I shouldn’t end you here.”
His breath gurgles like a dying fish, while his vision blurs and the world swims out of focus. Now, he understands why the dark underbelly of this city refuses to speak his name. His cruelty and brutal crimes were never just rumors. They were all true. And now, he’s going to face his punishment for betraying him. Judge, jury, and executioner all wrapped into one.
But fear never grips his senses. As he struggles to breathe, he realizes a strange sensation. He’s getting off on this. Both of them, actually. He never changed out of his shorts, so he feels himself growing wetter down there. When he leans closer, his damp core brushes against the tip of his shoes. A spark of arousal shudders through his veins. Mr. Hwang suddenly notices his aroused reaction and releases his throat. He violently slaps him across the face, sending him to the ground.
Gi-hun coughs, wiping his mouth as oxygen enters his lungs once again. He heaves a long breath and then another. He rubs tears from his eyes as he looks up at this dangerous man. Perhaps another punishment’s in store for him.
“Of course you’d get off on this,” he sneers. “Why am I not surprised? You fucking slut.”
“Please, sir,” Gi-hun begs. “Spare me! Have mercy! I’m so sorry - ”
Another slap hits him across the other cheek. He squeezes his legs tightly, ignoring the amused chuckles from his guards.
“I don’t tolerate thieves and liars,” he frowns. “How much did you take from me?”
Gi-hun whimpers, his voice falling quiet. “A…a million won.”
He raises an eyebrow, “A million?”
“That’s my nightly rate! I - ”
“Quiet,” he interrupts. “I said I’d pay you, didn’t I? Instead, you decided to drug me and steal my wallet last night.”
“I didn’t drug you! Those were painkillers for your - ”
A well placed kick to his stomach forces him into silence. Gi-hun flinches in pain, clutching his aching midriff. He’s definitely going to be bruised by tomorrow.
“Did I ask you to speak?” he growls. “You’re going to pay me back. Every single won.”
“But…but I don’t have that much!” he whines. “I swear!”
“Then I’ll make you work for it.”
For a split second, he wonders if the mob boss will whore him out. Now, he’s out of the frying pan and into the fire. Gi-hun clutches his reddened cheek and scans the casino’s gaming hall. Which of these people will buy him tonight? He refuses to go back to that profession again. His skin crawls with the thought of a stranger’s hands on him. Gi-hun starts sobbing, heavy tears dripping down his cheeks. When his gaze falls onto Mr. Hwang, he realizes how much he’s getting turned on. That alone gets him to quiet down and wipe his tears.
“I’m not a man to be crossed, Seong Gi-hun-ssi. You’ll be serving me until I get that money back. Starting tonight.”
He shakes his head, “Please, I’ll do anything else, ahjussi. Just…just don’t…don’t…”
Gi-hun can’t finish his words at this point. The prospect is unbearable. Mr. Hwang sighs, his fingers reaching out to tilt his chin to his gaze. When he stares into the depths of his dark eyes, he only sees hellfire and brimstone. How did he get here?
“Don’t do what?” the mob boss asks.
“Don’t whore me out,” he whimpers, his lower lip trembling in fear. “I’ll serve you, sir. I swear. Nobody else.”
Mr. Hwang chuckles, releasing his grip on his face. “You would fetch me a pretty penny, wouldn’t you? A soft young thing with a perfect mouth. How many clients could you take in a single night?”
“No!" he screams. "No, I’ll do anything else! Don’t make me do that! Please!”
“Alright, calm down,” he sighs, crossing his legs. “Tell me what else you’re good at. Besides the obvious thing.”
He flushes in embarrassment when his guards start laughing again. But when Mr. Hwang raises a hand, they all fall silent. Gi-hun scans his memories, but he can’t think of a single thing. He remembers his old jobs at the car assembly line, the fried chicken shop and the chauffeuring business. But since he was fired from every single one, Gi-hun really can’t admit his prowess in any field. Judging by Mr. Hwang’s stern gaze, he’s already looked him up and discovered his past occupations too.
“I…I - um…I’m a good driver,” he mutters sheepishly. “I can cook too.”
He feels like he’s signing his own death warrant at this point, while his merciless executioner looms over him. Gi-hun flinches, expecting another slap across the face. Or maybe Mr. Hwang will strangle him again until the light disappears from his eyes. Maybe he deserves it for stealing from a dangerous man. How could he be so reckless and stupid?
“I see,” he chuckles. “Maybe you can be useful to me.”
Gi-hun sighs in relief, “Really?”
He snaps his fingers to another pair of guards, “Take this young man to the kitchens. Maybe he’ll prove his worth to me.”
That’s how he spends the rest of his night laboring over a hot stove. The casino’s kitchens are well-stocked with different ingredients. He begins cooking a heavy meal for Mr. Hwang and his subordinates. His mind works overtime to create a decent dinner with several main and side dishes. Under the intense gaze of the masked guards, he chops meats and vegetables for a hearty stew. He even manages to slice fruits for a dessert course. Gi-hun cooks like his life depends on it. By the time he finishes, he’s exhausted and ready to collapse.
He never realized how many masked guards were needed to run this entire operation. Gi-hun overhears several conversations and figures that this mob boss owns a dozen businesses, while he siphons money from innocent people. With every movement, his bruised body aches and his battered throat hurts when he speaks. Still, he tries to engage in conversation when Mr. Hwang enters the dining room to check on his progress.
“I’m impressed,” he admits, raising an eyebrow. “You did all this in two hours?”
He looks down at his feet, “I had to work fast at my old job.”
To his relief, the mob boss smiles before leaning forward to check his throat. Gi-hun stares into his eyes, his heart pounding in horror. Maybe he’ll be slaughtered to pieces now.
“Does it hurt?” he asks in a low voice. “I’ll send a doctor to check on you tomorrow morning.”
He winces, “Yes. Sorry, sir.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he chuckles, patting him on the cheek. “You’re cute. I’m keeping you.”
“For…for what?”
“Quite a few things,” Mr. Hwang admits. “We’re planning a heist at a high-security bank vault. I’m going to need a getaway driver. And I’ll be needing your services for that.”
His jaw drops, “You’re doing what?”
A million questions run through his mind, but he immediately falls silent when Mr. Hwang’s subordinates arrive for their meal. He hides at his side, trying to shrink himself down, so nobody will notice him. But it’s futile. He created quite a spectacle when he was subject to Mr. Hwang’s derision and abuse. Everyone will remember his face now.
Ji-cheol corners him first. He remembers his lewd comment from last night and frowns at the wide smirk on his face.
“Are you grateful that he spared your life?” he laughs. “That’s how he gets you.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighs, “Oh, you know. He takes you to the brink of death and then decides to keep you. You’ll feel so grateful for his mercy that you’ll do anything to appease him now. We all know his tactics. Don’t worry, you’ll learn soon enough.”
When he leaves, Gi-hun resists the urge to shiver. Goosebumps trail up his skin at that ominous tone. He scans the room, but he hates that everyone else is older than him. He strikes up a conversation with Kang No-eul, who’s quiet and reserved, yet he gets her to open up when she talks about her daughter. And he quickly realizes that she doesn’t get along with Mr. Hwang’s second in command. Hee-soon always seems to have a perpetual frown on his face, especially when he lays eyes on him. He remembers their names, because he’ll be working with them on the bank vault heist.
Weeks pass in this strange new world. He loves having a bed all to himself, instead of sleeping in a cramped car backseat. Hot showers and fresh meals are a luxury after a year of being homeless. To his surprise, Mr. Hwang doesn’t lay a hand on him. He often stares at him from a distance, so he keeps craving his touch. Gi-hun still continues cooking for his subordinates, but they’re usually in that apartment building again. He’s watched nearly every hour of the day, enduring surveillance like a hardened criminal who’s planning to run away. After his personal doctor checks his bruised throat, he’s instructed to take it easier. During the night before their heist, Mr. Hwang visits him in his room. He inches away from him like a skittish foal before he calms down. The mob boss hasn’t laid a hand on him, so why would he hurt him now?
“How’s your bullet wound?” Gi-hun asks, noticing a slight limp to his gait.
He grins, “It’s healing. And your throat?”
“Better,” he admits, reaching up to touch his neck. “It doesn’t hurt to talk anymore.”
“I…I wanted to give you something.”
Mr. Hwang looks shy and uncertain as he reaches into his pocket. Gi-hun opens the clasp on the small box as he gasps in awe. A beautiful, dazzling pearl necklace sits inside a velvet bed. He looks up at him in amazement.
“You’re giving me this?” he asks. “Why?”
He fidgets for a second, “I’m really sorry…for everything I did. Think of this as an apology.”
Gi-hun chuckles, “You haven’t given many apologies in your life, have you?”
Mr. Hwang smiles at his sincerity before sitting on the edge of the bed. He tugs him into his lap, while Gi-hun gasps in surprise. With a gentle hand, he removes the pearl necklace and carefully fastens it against his throat.
“Look at yourself,” he whispers. “You’re beautiful.”
In the small mirror, Gi-hun notices his brighter features with this luxurious accessory. The pearls feel cold against his skin. Mr. Hwang’s fingers trace up his throat, softly kissing a fading bruise. Gi-hun can’t resist the temptation any longer. He’s lived here a month, but the mob boss hasn’t touched him like this in ages.
“Why did you stay away from me?” he asks curiously.
Mr. Hwang sighs, “I didn’t want to force you into anything. You’re too young and - ”
“Please,” Gi-hun scoffs, leaping out of his lap. “You didn’t have any qualms when I sucked your cock that night.”
“I was - I really regret hurting you,” he admits, his eyes filling with tears. “I thought it’d be best if I stayed away. I’m a dangerous man, Gi-hun-ssi. You know that.”
“And what if I don’t care, Mr. Hwang? What if that…turns me on?”
Those words linger in the air, dripping with heavy longing and deep arousal. The mob boss reaches over to take his hand.
“Once this heist is over, we’ll have a billion won. Your debt to me will be paid. And you can move on with your life.”
“What if I don’t want to?” Gi-hun frowns, crossing his arms. “What if I like it here, ahjussi?”
He smiles, “You’re being serious? This reckless, dangerous life turns you on?”
Gi-hun doesn’t waste another second. He climbs back into the older man’s lap, drawing him in for a long kiss. Mr. Hwang’s fingers tangle in his hair as he pulls him closer, craving his desperate touch like oxygen. They spend several long minutes in that embrace. During his long nights with anonymous clients, Gi-hun never allowed himself to indulge in romance. He had a strict policy that forbade kissing them on the lips. This feels like a breath of fresh air now.
Mr. Hwang maneuvers him onto the pillows in a slow manner, taking extra precautions with their injuries. After Gi-hun removes his shirt and pants, he’s only wearing a set of black lace panties. He whines loudly, desperate for his fingers between his shaking legs. He hasn’t had an orgasm in a long time.
“Please,” he begs.
“Say my name.”
“In-ho?”
“Good job, pet,” he murmurs, kissing his forehead. “You like it rough, right? Then I’ll give you that and more.”
The mob boss loses his patience at that point. He practically rips off his panties, bearing his damp heat to his gaze. Now, he’s just wearing the pearl necklace and nothing else. His appreciative groan echoes in his ears as In-ho tosses his legs onto his shoulders. Gi-hun shrieks when his tongue finally touches his sensitive clit. None of his clients have eaten him out, since they always focus on their own pleasure. But he adores this position so much. In-ho continues eating him out like a starving man, burying his face between his legs and lapping at his clit. Gi-hun bites his lip, trying to stay quiet, so nobody else hears them. In-ho notices this and gives a teasing slap to his wet pussy. He whines in a high pitched voice.
“Don’t do that,” he orders. “I want to hear you. Be as loud as you want.”
At that point, Gi-hun loses all sense of control. A loud, shuddering moan escapes his lips as he approaches his peak. But before his orgasm can even come, In-ho drops his legs and sheds his own pants. He stares down at the older man’s cock with longing. As he enters him, he realizes a damning truth. He’s much too big. When he was deep-throating his length, he never realized his cock’s girth. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he squeals, taking him in. The bed creaks with each thrust as the mob boss sets the pace, hitting his sensitive spot so hard that he sees stars. It doesn’t take long for him to reach his peak. Waves of pleasure spark through his veins. In-ho grunts as his warm release spills inside him shortly after.
Afterwards, he’s breathless in his arms, sweat glistening at his forehead. He feels himself drifting off after In-ho cleans him up, but then, he suddenly speaks.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters.
Gi-hun frowns, “For what? That was the best orgasm I’ve had in years.”
“For coming inside you,” In-ho admits in a sleepy voice, his fingers tracing the younger man’s soft, flat belly. “I don’t want to get you pregnant right now.”
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that, sir.”
“Why not?”
He hesitates after a long yawn, “Uh…I have an IUD in me. Well, I didn’t really want it. But my old boss insisted. He said that he didn’t want to risk any of us getting pregnant while doing our job.”
In-ho sighs, “I’ll schedule another appointment with that doctor.”
“Why? I feel fine.” he murmurs.
“To…you know, check for any infections and stuff.
His tone indicates an ulterior motive, but Gi-hun doesn’t care. He almost falls asleep in his arms before In-ho speaks again.
“Can you promise me something, baby?”
“Sure, anything. What is it?”
“During tomorrow’s heist, if you get into a fight or a pursuit with the cops…don’t shoot them, ok?”
“What?” Gi-hun frowns. “Why wouldn’t I? No-eul’s been teaching me how to shoot and she’s really good at it.”
“Because one of them could be my brother.”
A long silence passes between them as he takes his words in.
“Your brother? Are you serious? Wow, you two are so different,” he grins.
“Not that different,” In-ho admits. “He’s around your age. I used to be a cop too. He followed in my footsteps until…well, you can guess.”
His voice trails off, indicating that he doesn’t wish to disclose all the details right now. A burning sense of curiosity seizes his senses. He wonders about In-ho’s past and how he got to this position today. But Gi-hun decides to leave that until morning. He snuggles into this man’s arms, breathing in his familiar scent and resting his head on his bare chest.
As he drifts off, he wonders what the future holds in store for them.
And if he’ll survive the next dangerous encounter.