Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I'm sorry, Chan, but I just can't see a way to keep you on the payroll. Not after what happened.”

Those words rang loud in his ears for hours after Lisa said them, for days even. Not after what happened. It wasn’t as though the fragmented memories were ever far from his mind. The shattering of glass, the sudden scream. A broken string of freshwater pearls spilled haphazardly across the floor. A dropped makeup brush, pink powder staining the marble top where it fell. Dark footprints across the childrens’ playroom, blood splatter in the hall where the nanny tried to run.

Chan supposed he should be grateful for what Lisa hadn't said: I can't keep someone on the books who lets a client's family get kidnapped on their watch. He'd taken a round to the leg while rescuing the kids, and hadn't been able to save the client's wife from a stray bullet during the resulting scuffle. Even if Lisa hadn't blamed him, Chan would still blame himself for as long as he lived.

He moped, stuck deep in his own head for the next few weeks as he gradually ran out of money and food. Nothing seemed to work out; calls back full of useless platitudes and no offers extended, or worse, no call back at all. Chan had even started thinking of a career change, but the problem with being over 30 and too highly specialized for your own good was that very few doors opened in other directions.

A former coworker tipped him off to an opportunity a few hours away, so here Chan sat, probably failing yet another interview. The man across the desk looked less than impressed as he scrolled through a tablet hopefully containing Chan's resume, and not just the local paper. After far too few questions, Chan found himself rising from his seat as the man ushered him from the office with an insincere we'll be in touch.

He wandered the city aimlessly for a few hours, despite knowing he wouldn't be getting a positive call back. The thought of a long drive home to an empty house was nearly intolerable, and after all, Chan still had a hotel room for the night. The city was unfamiliar but he found some cheap takeout nearby, figuring on another sleepless night in front of the television, just in a different city.

The room felt subtly off the moment he entered, a lingering scent alerting him to another's presence within. Drawing his 9mm, he entered cautiously, flipping on the light before falling into a stance he knew well. The lamps flickered to life, revealing a figure just slipping out a window onto the fire escape. The stranger looked up with a grin, dark hair falling into his face as he shot Chan a wink before disappearing into the night.

What the hell? Clearing the space, he nudged open the bathroom door and did the same. Nothing. An examination of the bedroom turned up nothing amiss save a black envelope on the bed, stamped shut with a wax seal. He knew the symbol on the back; anyone in his industry would. A coiled dragon identified the sender as Jin-young Park, a wealthy crime lord with some less than savory business interests. It wasn't trafficking or prostitution, at least - just an import and exports operation that brought in everything from drugs and weapons to actual antiques worth a small fortune all on their own. Chan knew he ran multiple warehouses down at the docks and across the city, somehow never managing to have anything illegal on the premises when one was raided. It reeked of payoffs and insider information, but heads always seemed to turn the other way.

Knowing full well he should dump the missive in the trash unopened, Chan popped the seal and pulled out the contents. A letter on official-looking stationary offered him an interview the next evening at Park’s personal residence, followed by an address. It was a mark of just how desperate Chan was that he even entertained the idea for more than a few seconds before dropping the letter in the wastebasket. It would be a cold day in hell before Chan accepted that invite.

A whiff of jasmine still lingered on the bedding when Chan turned it down to sleep, both comforting and maddening in equal measure. It made him wonder just how much time the messenger had spent in his room, in his bed, for the scent to still saturate so completely. It should have been off-putting, a strange omega’s scent on his pillow, but it almost felt – familiar, somehow. Chan drifted off to sleep that night thinking of soft, dark hair and a sly grin, always just out of reach.

Hell froze over much sooner than Chan expected when he showed up to the gated entry at the address he had been given the following night. He’d received a call back from the interview that morning with all the usual excuses – thank you for your time, it was good speaking with you, etc etc. We’ve decided to pursue other candidates at this time, but we'll be sure to keep you in mind for future opportunities. Yeah, right.

Chan's mortgage payment was coming due, not to mention his car loan, and he did actually enjoy eating. After paying for the trip up here, there wasn't going to be much left in his account, and Chan supposed he wanted something to show for it. He didn’t want to admit to the fleeting hope that he might also see the omega again, but it was there all the same, riding shotgun with Chan’s more practical interests.

The wall around the property came right up to the sidewalk, the gate in the middle of a concrete wall topped with decorative wrought iron spikes. Chan couldn't reach them, but somehow he was certain they were sharp. Opening the gate, he stepped onto a wide flagstone path that wound its way through a short copse of trees, a heavily manicured garden to either side. A pond opened up on the right with a small red bridge arching across it. The overall atmosphere was tranquil and still, lanterns atop carved wooden poles casting a soft glow across the flagstones. The path led him past two Hanok styled buildings, both one story to either side of a rock garden, the path continuing on through a round portal in a matching gate.

That was when he heard it. Ducking at movement from the shadows, Chan avoided the first blow, striking out with a kick at his attacker’s knee. A loud grunt accompanied a popping sound, and his assailant stumbled. Chan pressed the advantage with a knee to the face, moving around to pull his keyring from a pocket in his suit jacket and strike the man on the back of the head. He'd always found the kubotan to be extremely handy in a pinch.

The next guard ambushed him just inside the open portal of the gate straight ahead, attempting to sweep his right leg out from under him. Chan was ready, stepping to the side to aim an elbow to the guard's neck. It connected with a gurgling click, and the man staggered backwards. A roundhouse kick to the chest and the man went down, sprawled in a heap across a short bush.

“Don't get up,” Chan advised. “I have a meeting with your boss, and I'd rather not put you down first.” The man groaned. “Radio ahead if you feel the need,” Chan added magnanimously.

Moving on, he heard a rush of static as the guard did precisely that. Continuing through a second courtyard, Chan spied two more guards to either side of a large double door in what had to be the main house. They weren't paying the slightest bit of attention as Chan stuck kept to the shadows, moving from one carefully landscaped tree to the next while making his way closer.

“Excuse me,” he said in a bored voice from behind the guard he had designated C. “I'm here to see —”

The man rounded on him, pulling a 9mm. Chan grabbed him by the wrist, twisting sharply until he heard a crack. The gun fell from the man's grip and Chan kicked it to one side before elbowing him just below the ribs. The man doubled over, breathless, and Chan moved on to guard D. His gun was trained, but his stance was off, and Chan stepped in close. A knee to his stomach, an elbow to the nose with a sickening crunch, and he staggered back, tripping down the short flight of wooden steps. The gun went off, a possibility Chan hadn't prepared for, but the bullet lodged harmlessly in a concrete statue of a baegul. Kicking the gun from the guard's hand, he made sure it landed in a small fountain.

“That was deeply irresponsible,” Chan said angrily, one foot on the guard's chest. “You could have just killed someone you were hired to protect.”

Hearing the crunch of gravel behind him, Chan ducked a blow to the back of his head and spun, kicking the man's kneecap from the side. It dislocated with a snap, and Chan moved on as the guard howled in pain. Unprofessional.

Only one other guard even attempted to intercept him as he moved down the front hallway through the unlocked – unlocked – front door, and Chan dealt with him in a similar manner. The idiot actually provided directions to Park's office on the second floor before curling up in a ball. Completely unacceptable. How had Park even survived this long if this was his excuse for a security detail?

Chan had just started down the upper hallway when a blow landed at the base of his spine, making him stagger forward. Regaining his footing, he spun to find the man who had delivered the letter, busy aiming a kick to his midsection. Grabbing the man's booted foot before it could connect, Chan twisted his leg. The man moved with it, executing a spin to land on both feet as Chan was forced to let go. Finally, a challenge.

Moving in close with a quick step, Chan aimed an elbow below his chin, but the man dodged out of range. Chan couldn't avoid the resulting kick to his chest, and staggered back a step. They danced around each other before Chan struck out with a low roundhouse. It was a mistake.

Before he could regain his footing, the man bull rushed him, taking them both to the ground in a heap. He was on Chan in a second, straddling his hips, a knife pressed to his throat. Chan raised his hands up in surrender, knowing when he was beaten. A floral scent tickled his senses, and he couldn't help but take a deep breath. Omega.

“Let me guess,” Chan said, trying to ignore his body's reaction to the scent. “I just failed my interview.”

“Oh, I think you passed the test if you got this far,” the man said with a wry smile.

“This far wasn't very hard,” Chan said. “Four guards? Really? They're all fired, by the way.”

“I didn't say you got the job,” the man said. “I just wanted to try you myself.” He emphasized the statement by shifting his position, the wiggle of his hips entirely unnecessary.

Jasmine surrounded Chan in a cloud, muddling his senses. His head felt fuzzy as his control failed, beginning to stiffen beneath the man's unrelenting motion above him. Unprofessional, unacceptable, but happening nonetheless. What was wrong with him?

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Chan realized the man had noticed his reaction. He flashed a sharp grin, the tilt of his head somehow predatory. Rocking his hips forward, he sent an electric rush through Chan's body, and Chan couldn't stop the way his eyelids fluttered, eyes rolling back. The knife pressed more firmly against his throat, and Chan swallowed hard. He had definitely, absolutely failed the interview.

“Boss is waiting on you,” the man said softly, hips all but grinding down.

“Seems like you'd rather keep me all to yourself,” Chan replied without thinking. Another, richer scent joined the jasmine, but Chan couldn't place it. Maybe he wasn't the only one affected by their little game.

“Maybe I would,” the man replied, leaning down, his hair falling in Chan's face.

The knife pressed hard enough into Chan's skin that it was certain to leave a mark. He couldn't bring himself to care. Seizing the opportunity afforded by the man's change in position, Chan's arm shot out, gripping him by his throat. He grinned, pressing forward against Chan's palm.

“Oh, you want to play, do you?” the man asked, slightly hoarse, sliding the knife around to press up hard below Chan's chin. “Too bad you've already lost. Maybe I should give you something to remember me by.”

“That's real sweet of you,” Chan threw back.

The man responded by flicking the knife, leaving a sharp pain in its wake. “Since you insist,” he added as Chan felt blood beginning to drip down his neck.

It felt strangely inevitable, and Chan increased the pressure around his neck. The man hummed, a strange sensation against Chan's fingers. He couldn't explain why he remained frozen, doing nothing to gain an advantage.

“He hates to be kept waiting, you know,” the man advised, making no move to get up.

Chan finally responded by bucking his hips, using his grip on the man's throat to topple him over once he was off balance. Rolling them over, he straddled his attacker in a mirror of their former position, Chan's hand still gripping his throat, the knife now pointed just below his Adam's apple. Little had changed, but it was easier to breathe without the cloying scent surrounding and invading his senses like a low-hanging fog. Chan couldn't resist rocking his hips forward once, a payback tease, before abruptly loosing his grip and rising to his feet.

“Office is that way?” he asked, pointing down the hall as he refused to clear his throat. The man didn't answer, rolling over into a crouch. “I'm done playing, kitten,” Chan added, straightening out the now-wrinkled shirt beneath his jacket. “Oh, and lose the cologne, it's a dead giveaway.”

The man’s immediate confusion faded into a blank sort of composure as he tried to hide a surreptitious glance at his wrist. Bingo.

“Better patches, then,” Chan said with a smirk.

“Same to you,” the omega replied. “Keep smelling like dried-out driftwood, and someone's liable to light you up.”

Chan held back a frown. His patches were prescription strength, and the woodsy notes in his scent weren't usually what people noticed, if at all. If he even let them. Deliberately turning his back on the man, he moved at a casual pace down the hallway as if entirely unbothered by the confrontation. Surprisingly, the man didn't follow.

Turning the corner, Chan reached a set of black, ornately carved double doors and assumed he had arrived at his destination. Two men stood to either side, one slouching with a foot propped against the wall. Chan tsked, pulling the envelope from his jacket pocket and holding it out. A quick check of his watch showed he was right on time.

The man on his left took the invitation and looked it over with a brief nod. The wood made a deep, hollow sound when he knocked.

“By all means, come in,” a masculine voice answered.

The guard pushed a button set in a carving of a rampant dragon and one of the doors slowly opened on silent hinges. The room beyond was a large office suite centered around a heavy wooden desk, its legs carved to resemble dragons as well. Park certainly knew how to stick to a theme.

“Punctual, aren't you?” the man asked with a Cheshire smile. “I like that. I take it you didn't have too much trouble on your way in?”

“Not nearly enough,” Chan replied. “Are there usually only four guards on the property at night?”

Park gave a small frown. “Six were on duty tonight.”

“That leaves two unaccounted for, which is quite frankly unacceptable,” Chan said. “Unless one of them was the courier you sent to deliver the invite.”

Park gave a harsh, surprised laugh. “I assure you, Hyunjin doesn't guard anything, least of all me. I'm going to tell him you called him a courier.”

Chan gave him a wry smile. “I'll be sure to watch my back.”

“I'd recommend it,” Park said in all seriousness, steepling his hands in front of him. “Now, shall we get down to business?”

Within a few days the contract was drawn up, and Chan found himself signing what felt like a deal with the devil. He supposed beggars couldn't afford to be too choosy, and besides, Park did offer a generous benefits package. The move didn't even take long to coordinate, as his furniture had been rented with the apartment, and his worldly possessions fit snugly in the back of a small U-Haul. Before long, Chan was settling into a small furnished guest house on the Park estate, built in the traditional style to match the rest of the architecture. It was surprisingly cozy, and quickly began to feel like home.

His first day on the job was a highly structured whirlwind of hirings and firings, restructuring Park's security under his own supervision. A meeting with the man himself to review the changes went surprisingly well, even agreeing to some tech upgrades. The surveillance room was woefully stuck in the previous decade, and Chan was itching to fix it up.

The only sticking point was a dress code Chan was loathe to follow, Park insisting he remain in a full suit, or at least a vest and dress slacks while in the building. Park seemed to value appearance over function, and while Chan vehemently disagreed, he had no real choice. Blowing half of his first pay advance at a tailor, Chan reluctantly settled into his new normal.

True to his word, Chan had been watching his back for the mysterious Hyunjin since returning to the estate, and was certain he was being watched. Twice the scent of jasmine interrupted his thoughts while walking the property, and once when returning to the little house. He caught glimpses of a lithe figure out of the corner of his eye, but never heard a single footstep to give the man away.

Chan had developed a habit of remaining in the surveillance room until Park retired for the night. Unfortunately, the man's late night work habits occasionally included the company of a revolving cast of mistresses, during which Chan studiously focused on the other cameras or resorted to doomscrolling. Such was the case tonight, which a voice from behind failed to startle him.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Hyunjin said, having somehow infiltrated the locked door without Chan hearing a thing.

“You're a little late,” Chan said without turning around. One of his guards was enjoying a smoke break on duty and not paying the slightest bit of attention to his quadrant. First strike, Chan thought, mentally noting the infraction.

“I hear you think I'm some sort of glorified errand boy,” Hyunjin said, at last taking the bait.

“If the shoe fits,” Chan replied evenly, switching his gaze to another monitor, any screen that wasn't showing Park plowing his girl of the week from behind over his desk.

“I assure you, I have much more interesting talents,” Hyunjin said before his voice turned sarcastic. “Nice gloves, by the way. They really make the outfit.”

Chan hummed, taking a compliment from the barb. He usually wore the pair of black driving gloves while on patrol for a better grip in various situations, and had simply forgotten to take them off. Rubbing his thumb over the leather, he flicked his gaze back to Park and his girl, just to check in. Still at it.

“I wouldn't call stalking me interesting,” Chan replied.

“And I wouldn't call it stalking,” Hyunjin protested.

“Then what would you call it?” Chan said, fighting the urge to turn around.

Hyunjin smirked. “Someone has to watch the watchman.”

“If you say so,” Chan replied. “Is that your side gig? When you're not delivering Park's mail, that is.”

Hyunjin's next words came from directly behind him. “I'm not his errand boy,” he hissed in Chan's ear. “Or his spy.”

Chan moved lighting fast, turning to push Hyunjin back a step. He raised an arm to shove back, which Chan gripped and pulled, twisting it behind Hyunjin's back as he used the momentum to force him around. With a knee to the small of his back, Chan pushed Hyunjin face first against the drywall and pulled the knife from his waist, dropping it to the floor with a clatter. One mark from the omega was more than enough.

“So you're just obsessed with me, then,” Chan said, forcing a casualness in his tone that he absolutely did not feel.

“Maybe,” Hyunjin answered, the scent of jasmine strengthening around them. “Or maybe I just don't want you fucking up this job like your last one.”

Chan growled, pushing him harder against the wall. Little shit. What did he know about it?

“Looks like I struck a nerve,” Hyunjin said with a laugh, his ass brushing against Chan's crotch. “You always get this hard when you're angry?”

“You always get wet when someone threatens you?” Chan retorted.

That scent was back, the one he hadn't been able to define until lighting some incense left on the jesa at the house. Palo Santo. The irony wasn't lost in translation.

Hyunjin hummed. “Couldn't tell you, without any actual threat.”

Chan felt his self-control snap like a fraying thread. Reaching down, he grabbed Hyunjin by his pussy and squeezed. Hyunjin's neck arched as he leaned his head back against Chan's shoulder.

“Definitely not a threat,” he said against Chan's ear, tiny fangs nipping at the lobe.

Chan couldn't keep his hips from hitching forward at the sensation, knowing Hyunjin had just drawn blood, again. Perhaps it was time to show Hyunjin just who was boss. Chan wasn't certain he outranked the man, but he might as well play the game from a position of superiority.

Shoving his free hand down the omega’s pants, he found Hyunjin’s clit through the damp fabric of his briefs and pinched. Gratified by his swift intake of breath, Chan flicked it before stroking along its short length. Dragging the wet cloth across, Chan worked Hyunjin roughly as he let out a loud, shuddering moan. Making a sound of irritation, Chan reluctantly let go of Hyunjin's arm to shove two gloved fingers in his mouth.

“Quiet,” he hissed. “Unless you want us both fired.”

Hyunjin sucked hard, leaving his arm folded back between them. That was…interesting. Chan moved his hand from Hyunjin's clit to pop open the button on his pants and tug the zipper down for a better angle, not aided in the slightest by the way Hyunjin wiggled back against him. His cock throbbed in his jeans, so hard it hurt as he slipped his hand beneath the elastic band of Hyunjin's briefs.

His leather-clad fingers slid easily along the wet slit, again brushing Hyunjin's clit with his thumb. Pressing in lower, Chan parted the soft folds to find his entrance and circled it, teasing. Hyunjin moaned around the fingers in his mouth, sliding his tongue against them from below and rocking his hips forward. Chan slowly drew his hand up, taking Hyunjin's clit between his thumb and two fingers before stroking, fast and rhythmic. It twitched in his hand, and Chan pressed more firmly, feeling Hyunjin's muscles tighten up. Knowing he was close, Chan waited until just the right moment before abruptly pulling his hand out from Hyunjin's pants.

Hyunjin bit down hard on his fingers, and Chan yanked his hand back to see tiny perforations in the leather. “Don't you dare,” Hyunjin spat out. “You started this."

“Oh, did I?” Chan said, feigning innocence as he held Hyunjin in place by a hand over his midsection. “Funny, I thought you were the one who jumped me before we were ever introduced.”

Hyunjin growled in frustration. “You could have been sent by a rival.”

“Park said you don't protect him,” Chan fired back.

“I don't,” Hyunjin said, squirming. “I enforce. Come on,” he whined. “Don't make me beg for it.”

“Why not?” Chan asked, leaning in to press his lips to Hyunjin's ear. “It's fun.”

Grabbing his hand by the wrist, Hyunjin shoved it back where he wanted it, rubbing against the meat of Chan's palm.

“You want it that badly?” Chan asked, thrusting against Hyunjin's ass. Moving his hand lower, Chan shoved two fingers inside with a slick, wet sound. “Then take what you need, baby.”

Hyunjin let out an honest to god whimper as he ground down on Chan's fingers, rolling his hips upward to get friction against his clit. The angle was hell on Chan's wrist, but he wasn't about to pull away again, not now. Chan remained still until he couldn't, until it felt as though thrusting his fingers in and out would give him some relief, as well.

“I'm getting bored,” he whispered against Hyunjin's ear, a blatant lie as he sucked the lobe into his mouth. “Come for me.”

With a muffled cry, trapping his lower lip between his teeth, Hyunjin's muscles squeezed hard around his fingers as a wash of slick dripped down. Chan worked him through it until his hips slowed their thrusts, unbuckling his own belt open with one hand. Tugging down his zipper, Chan pulled out his cock as he drew his hand back from Hyunjin's pants, using the slick that coated his fingers to ease the slide. The feel of leather against his cock was new, and it was only a few seconds before he lifted up Hyunjin's shirt and shot hard across his back.

Hyunjin gave a grunt of displeasure as Chan dropped his shirt back into place, patting it down over the mess. Tucking himself back into his pants, Chan turned to face the monitors as though his attention had never wavered. Once he could no longer hear Hyunjin's rapid breaths behind him and the door clicked shut, Chan brought his wet fingers to his mouth and licked them clean.

He didn't see much of Hyunjin after that, no longer lurking in his periphery. Chan almost missed it – almost. The job kept him incredibly busy, and he didn't need that sort of temptation hiding just out of reach. He had even managed to put Hyunjin mostly out of his mind until the news hit the mansion’s rumor mill.

A failed hit, was the word. A total fiasco, and an extremely unhappy boss. It wasn't like Hyunjin, they whispered – maybe he was losing his touch. Maybe he had been set up. Maybe —

Chan silenced the rumor mill as best he could amongst the guard, but he didn't hold any sway over the rest of the staff. He looked for Hyunjin, fueled by the strange desire to make sure he was all right, but saw hide nor hair. Figuring he had gone to ground to lick his wounds, Chan forced himself to forget about it and focus on the job.

As part of keeping that focus, he had developed a habit of seeking out anonymous company at a club near enough to the estate to walk, saving him the hassle of a cab. It was fancier than his usual dive bars, but frequented by others just as desperate for a little human touch as he was, even if it was only a quickie in the bathroom. He certainly wasn't going to risk bringing anyone back to the house, so clubbing it was.

Nursing his second vodka tonic at the bar, Chan still hadn't seen anyone that caught his eye and turned down one person already. He could puzzle out the reason but didn't like it, so he just kept looking.

The next man that leaned back against the bar next to him affected a casual posture, most of his upper body on display through a sleeveless black mesh shirt. He was just Chan's usual type – muscular, but not overly so, short hair nicely styled, no makeup. He gave Chan a very obvious once over before offering to buy him another drink. Chan was halfway to accepting when he caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd, expression blissful as he danced between two other men.

Hyunjin.

As he watched, hypnotized, Chan saw one of the men catch the other's eye with a wicked smile, tilting his head toward Hyunjin before the other nodded back. Something about the entire situation seemed off, particularly as Hyunjin seemed entirely unaware of the silent communication going on around him. He was either drunk or drugged, possibly both, and before Chan knew it he was setting the glass down on the bar with a tip beneath it.

Ignoring the man beside him, Chan pushed his way through the throng of dancers, his focus singular. Reaching Hyunjin after fighting the tide, he tapped one of the men on the shoulder. Not getting a response, he did it again, only to be waved off. Regrouping, he tried a different tactic.

“Baby,” he said loudly, squeezing Hyunjin's shoulder. “There you are, I've been looking all over!”

Hyunjin frowned, his eyes opening a crack to stare blearily down at Chan. “The fuck are you doing here?” he slurred, almost too quiet to be heard over the pounding bass.

Right. Time to get out of here. “Think you've had a little too much,” Chan said pointedly, ignoring the angry glares of his companions.

“‘M fine,” Hyunjin said. “Can't you see I'm busy?” He giggled, rubbing back against the man behind him as he looped one arm around the man's neck.

“We agreed we'd go home together, remember?” Chan pressed.

“He said fuck off,” the man to Hyunjin's front interrupted.

“Not his exact words,” Chan countered. “You've had your fun, why don't you just get out of here?”

“We haven't had nearly enough fun with him,” the other man chimed in.

“And yet, you're done,” Chan said, taking Hyunjin by the arm and tugging him away.

He stumbled, and Chan looped one arm around his waist to hold him steady. “The fuck?” he complained, trying to escape Chan's grip.

“You want to end up dead in a ditch somewhere?” Chan asked. “Cause those two did not have your best interests at heart.”

“Still would've gotten laid,” Hyunjin muttered, but at least he had stopped fighting Chan and was stumbling with him toward the entrance. “Why do you always smell so good?”

“Not like firewood?” Chan questioned with a laugh as they negotiated the outer doors.

Hyunjin shook his head. “Like tea,” he said. “‘N lemons, like – like lemon cake.”

“Never heard that one before,” Chan said, repositioning Hyunjin to better guide him down the street.

It took twice as long to get back with Hyunjin's weight on his shoulder, stumbling alongside. Using a key-carded side door to avoid notice, Chan shook his head and raised a finger to his lips when the guard stationed inside shot him a questioning glance. If he heard so much as a whisper about Hyunjin's pathetic state in the coming days, Chan knew exactly where the blame would fall. Taking the staff elevator instead of risking the stairs, Chan led the way to Hyunjin's rooms on the top floor and dug around in the omega's pockets for his keycard. His own would work, but Chan preferred to keep that little trick a secret.

Hyunjin giggled and squirmed, hindering Chan's efforts. “Someone’s impatient,” he said, or tried to.

“Need your key, that's all,” Chan explained, finally succeeding in pulling Hyunjin's wallet free.

“Sure,” Hyunjin drawled against his ear.

The door clicked open with a beep from the card reader and Chan managed to get them both inside without falling over. Turning on as few lights as were necessary, he was surprised to find the open space minimally decorated, the blank walls only interrupted by an impressionist-style painting here and there. It felt much like a crow's nest, wedged as it was beneath the high vaulted roof, a large triangular window at one end. Black and cream linens on the bed looked straight out of any catalogue, but felt incredibly soft when Chan reached out to turn them down. He didn't miss the pair of handcuffs dangling from one spoke on the headboard, but did try to ignore them.

“Sit,” he said, pointing toward the bed, and Hyunjin obeyed with a slight bounce.

Kneeling, Chan unlaced Hyunjin's boots before pulling them off and setting them neatly aside. Hyunjin wiggled his toes in Chan's face and he frowned, pulling back. Reeling him back in with a hand in his hair, Hyunjin smirked down at him.

“You look good on your knees for me,” he said, his voice sounding more steady.

Chan responded by rising to his feet, and Hyunjin pouted, his hand falling away. “That's not what I'm here for,” he said.

“Why not?” Hyunjin replied petulantly.

“Because you're plastered,” Chan said. “Stay put.”

Surprisingly, Hyunjin did as he was told while Chan fumbled around the small kitchenette for some aspirin, filling a glass with water. Returning to the bedroom he held it out. “Take it,” he ordered, and Hyunjin threw back the pills with a few sips.

“Good boy,” Chan said, only realizing his mistake when Hyunjin froze, the glass halfway to his mouth. “Finish the water,” he added, his voice unaccountably hoarse.

Hyunjin did, setting the glass on the bedside table. He sat with his head bowed, hands gripping the edge of the mattress as if awaiting another order. Chan told his cock to settle down in no uncertain terms.

“Is it all right if I take off your jeans?” Chan asked. “So you don't have to sleep in them?”

“You can take off whatever you want,” Hyunjin said slyly, looking up with a smug grin.

Chan rolled his eyes, reaching for the snap at the top as Hyunjin obligingly spread his legs. Tugging the zipper down in as business-like manner as he could, Chan stopped when he saw what was below. A pair of red silk panties outlined in lace peeked out at him, and Chan felt his blood rushing south. Choosing to ignore them the best he could, Chan knelt to focus on removing Hyunjin's jeans instead. They were sinfully tight, and it was work to peel them off the omega's body, but Chan prevailed despite his wiggling.

“There,” he said finally, tossing them on a chair. “You should be more comfortable.”

Chan knew he should move, shouldn't stay between Hyunjin's legs with the temptation of satin and lace right in front of him, already wet with slick. Hyunjin smelled divine, incense and jasmine mingling in a heady cologne that quite frankly had Chan by the balls. Resting one hand on Hyunjin's knee, he leaned his head against the opposite thigh, eyes drifting shut as he breathed it in.

“Alpha,” Hyunjin whispered, drawing him back to reality. “Touch me.”

Lifting Chan's hand, he pulled it up along his now bare chest, dragging his fingers across one nipple. One pierced nipple, a metal ball to either side. They drew Chan's attention away from the large patches of bruising across his ribs, turning yellow and green.

“What happened, Hyunjin?” Chan asked softly, brushing his thumb across the sensitive nub while his eyes traced the dark, shadowed lines of impact at the center of each discoloration.

Hyunjin's face shut down as he pulled back, scooting up toward the headboard. “Nothing happened,” he said, his voice as blank as his expression.

“Jin —”

“If you're done playing the hero, you can go,” Hyunjin said, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them as he looked away. When Chan made no move to leave, Hyunjin waved him off. “I'm done with you,” he said.

“You're done when I say you are,” Chan growled, grabbing him by the hips and dragging him down the bed. Leaning over Hyunjin, he retrieved the handcuffs from the headboard, feeling only slightly guilty when he flinched. “You have the keys?”

“Of course I have the keys,” Hyunjin scoffed, nodding in the direction of the bedside drawer.

“Good,” Chan said, clamping one over Hyunjin's left wrist. “Because whatever did happen, I'm going to make you forget all about it.”

“It's only fair,” Hyunjin mused. “Since you fucking cockblocked me. Or maybe you just wanted me all to yourself, hmm? Were you jealous —”

“You want me to gag you, too?” Chan asked. “Because that can be arranged.”

Surprisingly, Hyunjin fell silent. Lifting the arm with the cuff over Hyunjin’s head, Chan looped it around one of the spokes on the headboard before securing the other arm the same way. Something peaceful flickered across Hyunjin's face before the lines of worry returned.

Challenge accepted. Letting his hands roam, Chan toyed with one of the barbells, tugging it to one side then dragging it through to the other. He rotated it, spinning the ball between his fingers, and Hyunjin made a pleased sound.

“You like those?” Hyunjin asked with a dreamy smile.

“They're a liability,” Chan answered, giving the nipple a pinch.

Hyunjin’s quick intake of breath was sharp. “But you like them,” he said knowingly.

“Yes,” Chan admitted after a moment. “I like them.”

Leaning down, he dragged his tongue over the other before sucking it into his mouth. Hyunjin made a surprised, guttural sound and Chan dragged his teeth across the nipple as he pulled back. Giving it a final flick of his tongue, Chan moved down the bed to settle between Hyunjin's legs. Pressing his face to the crease between Hyunjin's hip and thigh, Chan breathed in the scent of him, nipping at the skin.

Hyunjin squirmed, and Chan slid across to run his nose along the satin panel, bottom to top. He licked and sucked at the damp fabric, tasting the slick soaking through. Teasing, he toyed with the fabric, dragging it back and forth across Hyunjin's clit where it bulged at the top. He rocked forward, rubbing Chan's face in it, and Chan reached up to press his hip down firmly against the bed.

“Hold still,” he said, pulling back long enough to hook the fingers of his free hand beneath the elastic waistband and begin to tug the fabric down.

Hyunjin remained unmoving as Chan pulled the panties off over his feet, lingering there for a moment to gently remove his socks as well. He pressed a kiss to the top of one foot before he could think better of it, turning back to the prize waiting for him. It was neatly waxed into a small triangle, closely trimmed, and Chan lamented that it wasn't fuller. Moving in close, he blew a stream of air along the slit, making Hyunjin twitch.

Stroking his thumbs down the flushed outer lips, Chan gently pried them apart before licking a long, hot stripe along the inner folds. Reaching his clit, Chan swirled his tongue around it before flicking at the tip, feeling it pulse at the sensation. He circled Hyunjin's entrance with two fingers before pulling them back and sucking them into his mouth. Hyunjin was delicious, like sweet oranges and candied flowers and Chan already knew he could never get enough.

Toying with the omega's swollen clit, Chan stroked his lips up and down before returning to his cunt. Sliding two fingers just barely inside, he pulled out and pressed back in. Hyunjin rocked his hips forward, seeking more. Chan obliged, slipping in deeper as he sealed his lips around Hyunjin's clit and sucked hard. His back arched off the bed, heels digging into the duvet as a ragged sound broke from his throat. Chan thrust his fingers in and out, starting slow and shallow but building to a faster pace. His hand left Hyunjin's hip to travel up his torso, flicking at one nipple. A vulgar litany spilled forth from the omega's open mouth as Chan crooked his fingers deep inside and dragged them to his entrance again and again.

Chan laved at his clit, stroking up and over it from below as he timed his flicks and pinches at Hyunjin's nipple to match. He rolled his hips up against Chan's face, nearly drowning him in slick as his fingers moved relentlessly inside. Hyunjin fell abruptly silent, hips stuttering as the climax overtook him, his walls clenching down hard. It occurred to Chan that if he suffocated between the omega's tightly clenched thighs, he might just die happy after all.

Working him through it, Chan only pulled away when Hyunjin demanded it, shoving at Chan's shoulders with his feet. Pushing himself to his knees, Chan grabbed for Hyunjin’s discarded shirt and used it to wipe his face clean, licking the omega's taste from his lips. Hyunjin stretched and groaned, tugging on the cuffs, and Chan crawled up the mattress to reach the bedside drawer, fumbling about for the keys. His fingers closed around something entirely different, and he held up the bullet vibe for Hyunjin to see.

“Maybe I should use this on you for a while before I set you loose,” he suggested with a wicked smile. “What do you think?”

“I think I could still kill you with my hands tied,” Hyunjin answered, eyes half-lidded.

“Fair point,” Chan said, his smile softening as he returned the toy to the drawer and retrieved the keys instead.

Unlocking first one cuff and then the other, he massaged Hyunjin's wrists and fingers, earning a quiet hum from the man below him. Hyunjin had pulled hard enough that the cuffs left marks on his wrists, red lines ripe for bruising. They satisfied some deep, primal thing inside Chan's base brain, the seat of all his alphan instincts, and he suppressed a rumble before it could leave his throat. He ran his nose along them instead, pressing a soft kiss to each.

Hyunjin's soft sound of surprise at the gesture burned itself into Chan's thoughts like an aural tattoo, and he knew he had stayed too long. Standing up, he tucked the keys away back in the drawer and pulled up an extra blanket from the end of the bed, covering Hyunjin to the waist. Forcing himself to take a step away, Chan found his progress arrested by Hyunjin's hand on his arm.

Don't ask, Chan thought. Don't ask me to stay because God help me, I will.

Lying on his side, Hyunjin looked half asleep as he slid his fingers down Chan's forearm, ending at the palm of his hand. His thumb brushed across Chan's knuckles before giving his fingers a gentle squeeze, as if he knew.

“Get some rest,” Chan said softly.

Hyunjin nodded, his eyes sliding shut as he fell back against the pillow. Chan killed the lights on his way out, stopping in the bathroom to try and make himself presentable. It seemed a lost cause – his hair mussed, his face sticky and red, his cock tenting out his pants like some freshly presented teenager. When he finally left, Chan could hear quiet snores coming from the bedroom and smiled, immediately wishing he hadn't. The last thing he needed was an infatuation with someone else on Park's payroll.

Too late, something whispered in his mind as he slipped out the front door, closing it quietly behind him. Too damn late.

A dropped hint here and there, a few discreet questions to the right people, and it wasn't long before Chan was able to turn up just what had gone so wrong for Hyunjin with his last mark. One of Park's business rivals had been honing in on his territory, and Hyunjin was dispatched to send a message. That ‘message’ was to be a bullet in his lieutenant's skull, but according to Chan's source in Park's information network, Hyunjin lost his focus at the last minute, allowing some goons to get the drop on him.

The reason? His target had retired to his study when his seven year old burst into the room, crying and seeking comfort after a nightmare. Refusing to shoot a man with a child on his lap, Hyunjin had to face down Park's substantial wrath alone, losing his status at the top of the heap. Another operative was sent, who had no problem taking out the mark during a family dinner. Now Hyunjin had spared no one and was left injured, having to prove himself all over again, a process that Chan was certain would be unpleasant for all involved.

No wonder he had been ready to leave with two complete strangers that night, no matter their intentions. He probably just – hadn't cared. The thought made Chan's chest ache, even as he felt foolish for it. He knew the world they lived in, knew compassion could only be a liability, and kindness was likely to get you killed. He wanted to show Hyunjin both, wanted —

It didn't matter what he wanted. Hyunjin had turned stone cold, refusing to even acknowledge Chan the few times they crossed paths. Chan knew it was for the best, knew he didn't need any entanglements right now, least of all with someone who could kill him in his sleep. Still, he missed the banter, the sly winks, the way Hyunjin would brush past him close enough to make contact before dancing away again. Missed being driven absolutely crazy, as if that made any sense at all.

The night he came back home to find the house smelling like jasmine, only to search from top to bottom and find no trace of Hyunjin was the worst. His bed linens were wrinkled as though someone had been lying in them, and Chan curled up in the middle of it, just breathing in his scent. He dreamed of Hyunjin, of his eyes and his hands and his taste, waking up hard and aching and miserably alone.

An early summer storm brought with it a harsh drop in pressure, leaving Chan’s ears ringing and his head pounding. Bent nearly double over the surveillance desk, eyes squeezed shut against even the tiniest amount of light, he rubbed at his temples. The hour was late, only his own team members stirring anywhere on camera, and Chan decided the place would have to get on without him for a little while.

The walk back from the main building might as well have been an obstacle course, the way the ground rose and shifted around him, objects moving into his path as Chan lost his balance. His head felt like the inside of a mine, the rattle of jackhammers against his skull nearly too much to take. At last he blessedly found himself at his own front door and made it the few steps to the couch before collapsing. In the back of his mind, Chan knew he was forgetting something, but then the dark rose up around him, swallowing him whole, and he knew nothing at all.

He woke to the slight thunk of a glass of water placed on the coffee table, the click of three pills against the wood beside it. Rain pattered against the windows as a roll of thunder rattled through the night. Chan's eyelids fluttered open to see a figure pacing restlessly beside the couch, muttering softly to themselves.

“‘Jin?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“Take your meds,” Hyunjin said, gesturing at the water.

Chan sat partway up, fumbling for the pills and dropping one on the floor. Depth perception was a luxury he no longer possessed. Hyunjin gave a long-suffering sigh and picked up the aspirin, pressing it into Chan’s palm. He hovered until Chan had taken all three and downed most of the water with them.

“How did you —” Chan trailed off, glancing up.

“You looked like a drunk staggering home,” Hyunjin said, arms wrapped about his middle. “And you have meds for migraines in your bathroom.”

Chan nodded, then regretted the motion. “The storm,” he said, gesturing vaguely as he rubbed at his temples.

Hyunjin seemed at war with himself for a moment before sitting down next to Chan at the edge of the couch. Guiding him to lie back, Hyunjin let Chan's head rest in his lap. His fingers stroked slow circles at the temples, a spreading warmth beginning to radiate out. Chan sank back into it, feeling his facial muscles begin to relax, cramped from the pain pain.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“You're just dreaming,” Hyunjin said quietly. “I was never here.”

Chan hummed. “Of course not.”

“I'll deny it.”

Chan almost laughed, unable to square why exactly Hyunjin might be willing to do this for him, unless he wanted a repeat of the other night. He would have, happily, but Chan was in no shape to do anything but lie here and soak up the attention. Hyunjin seemed in no hurry, working out the tension in his scalp little by little as his fingers traveled from one painful spot to the next. It was a strange sort of bliss, having Hyunjin's hands on him, even if it took some of the worst pain he'd felt in months to get him here.

Eventually Chan drifted off again, imagining he felt the brush of hair along his cheekbones and the soft press of lips against his forehead. When he woke with the dawn, the house was quiet and still, a throw blanket draped over his legs and another glass of water waiting for him on the table. The storm had passed, giving way to a dull, gray morning, and his head felt clearer. The pain wasn't gone, but it was bearable, and the scent of jasmine still lingered on his skin.

I was never here.

Word reached him from time to time of Hyunjin's exploits, of his rising kill count at Park's command. Chan saw nothing of him, missing it even more, the surreptitious glances when they passed, the occasional hint of his scent lingering in the air. Chan realized he was growing colder in Hyunjin's absence, no longer even bothering to seek out human touch. It wouldn't have satisfied, so he simply didn't bother. Chan took extra patrols instead of sleeping, hired more security staff when attempts at infiltration became more frequent, the competition testing the waters, testing him. He'd be damned if he failed again.

One night saw an extremely foolish attempt by an upstart in the business at sending in a spy, captured as soon as he scaled the wall and fell, twisting his ankle. Chan had recently brought in a small team of Cane Corsos, trained to intercept and detain but not kill. One of the dogs was on the intruder in a heartbeat, massive paws on his chest when Chan made it around the corner.

“It's your lucky day, friend,” Chan said. “Dart here already had her dinner.”

The intruder sneered, remaining silent as Chan hauled him off for interrogation. That part wasn't his job, but sometimes he stuck around to watch. The more information he had on their enemies, the better. Chan quickly came to wish he hadn't when Hyunjin entered the cold basement cell, spreading out a cloth roll of tools on a small table near the chair where the intruder was currently restrained.

It wasn't pretty. Hyunjin's interrogation methods were both brutal and thorough, and before long the man was confessing his sins back to grade school. He worked for one of Park's former lieutenants, a savvy businesswoman named Yubin, who clearly needed to vet her operatives better if this one was any indication. She had been looking for information on a particular deal set to go down in a week's time, one Chan would quickly recommend moving to a different location and date.

Chan's eyes followed Hyunjin as he left the room, flickering up to meet his gaze only once, and only for a moment. He looked worn ragged, as though barely sleeping, and Chan had noticed a healing cut on one cheek. He knew better than to follow Hyunjin out the door, no matter how much he might want to. Besides, he had an idiot captive to make sure got bandaged and locked up while he thoroughly regretted his life choices.

It was nearly morning once Chan had seen to his reports and briefed Park on the intruder. He forced Chan to recount the gory details of the interrogation, taking wicked pleasure in every sucker punch to the gut, every blow to the ribs, every tiny cut made to the man's body. Hyunjin hadn't had to resort to extracting teeth, for which Chan was grateful, but Park seemed gruesomely disappointed.

Making his way back through the labyrinthine hallways of the mansion, the sound of music drew Chan's attention down a side hall he rarely patrolled. It was entirely internal, with no windows or sensitive information kept within. Delicate feminine vocals issued forth from around the door to the dance studio formerly used by Park's eldest daughter when she lived at home. She had moved out some time ago to run her own successful shell company, just another cog in the empire. The door was nearly closed, but not quite, and Chan couldn't help but open it barely wide enough to see through.

Hyunjin danced with a careless sort of abandon in a loose shirt and stretch pants, his feet bare against the wooden floor. His hair was tied back from his face, but strands still escaped as he dipped and spun. Chan was captivated, unable to look away.

He knew Hyunjin had been a dancer once before tearing a ligament that kept him out of the competition circuit. From the information Chan had been able to dig up, he had been good – really good – and having his dreams crushed nearly killed him. Park recruited him at his lowest point, sent him to rehab, and threw Hyunjin headfirst into training the moment he was out. He seemed to have found a new, if far more deadly calling, and selfishly Chan couldn't fault Hyunjin for that if at the end of the day it kept him alive.

Chan watched, enraptured by Hyunjin’s grace, until the moment he glanced up. Their eyes met in the wall of mirrors across the small room, and Hyunjin stumbled back a step, off balance, catching himself before he fell. His face moved from shock to anger in record time.

“Get out,” he demanded without turning around.

“No,” Chan answered, taking a step into the room.

Hyunjin's eyes widened in disbelief. “I said, get out.”

“And I said no,” Chan repeated, moving across the floor to stand behind him.

Hyunjin pivoted smoothly away, retreating as Chan advanced until his back hit the mirror. “What aren't you understanding?” he hissed. “This one place, one fucking place in the entire compound isn't yours, and I'm telling you to leave.”

Hyunjin’s eyes flicked meaningfully up at the camera in the corner of the ceiling, its round glass case cracked and the light inside gone dark. Chan hadn't even known there had once been a camera in the studio, but now he did he wasn't about to have it fixed. Hyunjin could keep his privacy – just not today.

“You don't really mean that,” Chan insisted, bracing one hand to the right of Hyunjin's head.

“I assure you, I do,” Hyunjin replied acidly.

“You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” Chan confessed. “And you expect me to just walk away?”

Hyunjin's defiance seemed to waver. “That is what get out generally means, yes.”

The smell of fragrant jasmine strengthened around them, making Chan's head spin. Words could deceive, faces could lie, but scent never did. Reaching out, he dragged his fingers down Hyunjin's chest as slowly as he could stand, stroking across his abdomen as Hyunjin's eyes fluttered. Moving down at a glacial pace, he reached between Hyunjin's legs, rocking his palm slowly back and forth.

“Stop,” Hyunjin said weakly, tilting his head back against the mirror.

“See, I don't think you mean that, either,” Chan said, dragging his fingers lightly from where Hyunjin's pants hid his entrance to just shy of his clit.

“I don't care what you think,” Hyunjin protested, stilling his hips when they rocked forward just a fraction.

“Thing of it is, you do,” Chan said. Hyunjin rolled his eyes, turning his face to the side. “Like it or not, Hyunjin, I know you. And you never would have let me this close, otherwise.”

Hyunjin’s gaze cut sharply back without turning his head. He scoffed, but it was quiet, half-hearted. Chan's fingers hadn't stopped moving, and another scent joined in with the jasmine, the warm, sweet tang of incense muddling his senses.

“You were supposed to stop,” Hyunjin remembered belatedly. “You really —” he rolled his hips forward — “should have stopped.”

“Why?” Chan asked, sliding his palm higher to brush across Hyunjin's clit through the fabric. His other hand tucked an errant strand of hair behind Hyunjin's ear, making his own heart stutter.

The omega's eyes drifted shut for an instant. “Because,” he said, forcing them back open to meet the intensity of Chan's gaze. “Because now —”

Leaning forward, Hyunjin pressed his mouth to Chan's in a clumsy kiss, as though long out of practice. God knew Chan was, never bothering with his hook-ups, but thankfully it was one of those skills you never really forgot. Stepping in closer, he cupped Hyunjin's face in his palm, stroking his thumb across the cheekbone. Hyunjin's hand wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him close, and Chan flicked his tongue across his lips. Hyunjin opened to him easily, beautifully, letting Chan in to taste and explore.

It was everything, but it wasn't enough, and Chan worked his thigh between Hyunjin's legs. His hips hitched up against it, a slight gasp escaping between Chan's lips. He swallowed it down greedily, eager for anything Hyunjin would give him. The kiss lingered, building until Hyunjin’s hand found his cock through his pants and stroked. Chan's thrust forward was involuntary at the feel of it, wanting Hyunjin's hand on him without the linen suit in-between.

As if reading his mind, Hyunjin fumbled at his waist, popping open the buttons and pushing the cloth aside. His hand through Chan's briefs felt amazing, smearing the wetness at the tip down in a line to tease. Chan groaned, deepening the kiss until it was hot and wet and absolutely filthy. He rutted up against Hyunjin's pussy, the fabric damp with slick as the omega’s thighs quivered. Unable to stand it anymore, Chan worked his hand beneath his pants and underwear, circling his clit with one finger.

Hyunjin tugged at his waistband, shoving his pants down as best he could. Chan pulled back from the kiss to help, only to realize his claws had sprung from his fingertips when he scratched Hyunjin's hip. Apologies fell from his lips as he stared down in horror at the four slender cuts, beginning to ooze a small amount of blood.

“It's all right,” Hyunjin assured him, but Chan just shook his head.

“It's not, I hurt y—”

Hyunjin's purr cut him off mid-sentence, scrambling Chan's thoughts. “I said, it's all right.”

Chan let it go, helping to pull his pants the rest of the way off and casting them aside. Stepping back, he moved to get down on his knees, only to have Hyunjin stop him, one hand tangling in Chan's hair.

“No,” Hyunjin protested, breathless as he shook his head, and Chan was momentarily confused. “Want you inside me.”

“I don't have anyth–”

“I don't care,” Hyunjin interrupted.

Chan only hesitated for an instant before lifting him up against the mirror. His omega wanted him, wanted his cock and wanted it now. What kind of alpha would he be if he refused? Hyunjin wrapped his legs around Chan's waist for support and tugged down the elastic band on Chan’s briefs, hooking it below his balls. Canting his hips up for just the right angle, he gripped Chan's firm length and guided it inside.

It was bliss; there was no other word for it. Thrusting forward, Chan buried himself to the hilt, the way eased by Hyunjin's slick. He was tight, but not painfully so, and he gave a long, low moan when Chan was fully sheathed. Pulling back, Chan thrust in again and again, steadying Hyunjin until he wrapped his arms around Chan's shoulders and held on tight. Grinding down, he chased his pleasure as Chan tried not to lose himself to his own.

“Hang on,” Chan advised, shifting Hyunjin's weight to his left arm while working his right between them.

Finding Hyunjin's clit, standing out proud and swollen from its thatch of hair, Chan stroked it slow and easy. Hyunjin rocked his hips into the motion, his head falling back to show the delicate curve of his throat. Chan wanted to get a hand around it again, wanted to squeeze just enough this time, but he knew Hyunjin would murder him for changing position. He kissed along the length of it instead, flicking his tongue out across the sweat-damp skin to taste the salt that lingered there.

Before long, Hyunjin's movements faltered, his cunt squeezing down around Chan as he came with a fierce cry. Chan stroked him through it, unable to stop his thrusts now if his life depended on it as Hyunjin shuddered and shook, falling apart in his arms. The pleasure swelled and crested, like a wave of fire rushing through him as Chan found his peak. His cock kicked hard as he spilled deep inside, pulsing again and again. It felt like it went on forever before he began to soften, Hyunjin still milking him for every drop.

When the only sound in the still and quiet room was their own labored breathing, Hyunjin leaned forward, resting his head against Chan's shoulder. He seemed to shiver, and at first Chan thought he might be crying, only to realize it was laughter. Helpless and broken, the omega laughed as he clung to Chan, nosing at the crook of his neck.

Oh, he was fucked. So, so insanely fucked. Stroking Hyunjin's back, Chan held him close until he went soft, sliding out. Hyunjin pulled away first, swinging his legs down to stand with a slight wobble as Chan steadied him. They didn't speak while Hyunjin retrieved his pants, wincing at the wet crotch. Pushing past Chan, he grabbed a thin, matching jacket from where it had been folded over the barre and wrapped it around his waist. Without a word, without so much as glancing back, Hyunjin walked out leaving Chan alone.

Tucking himself back in his pants, Chan followed after like a lost puppy, eventually catching up with Hyunjin at his door. He sighed in exasperation when Chan jammed his foot inside to keep it from closing, giving him a withering look.

“Goodnight, Chan,” he said firmly.

“Doesn't have to be,” Chan said. “You could invite me in.”

“Why?” Hyunjin asked bitterly. “We both got what we wanted.”

Chan shook his head; he wanted so much more it physically ached. Hyunjin shoved his foot out of the way and closed the door, turning the extra locks with a series of loud clicks that made Chan's keycard useless. Leaning in, Chan rested his forehead against the door, still feeling drunk on the scent, the taste of him. Fabric rustled on the other side of the panel, followed by the sound of Hyunjin sliding down and leaning heavily against the base of the door.

“You're such a fool,” Chan heard through the crack, his chest contracting at the words. He lingered there until he heard Hyunjin rise to his feet and head deeper into the apartment, and then a while after that.

A fool indeed.

Chan still dreamed about the night everything went to hell, the raid to save his former employer's family going up in smoke over and over again. It didn't matter how often he remembered running out of the warehouse, a five year old on his hip, an eight year old clutching at his hand – the loudest sound would still be the gunshot. The most vivid sight would be her blood on the ground, Chan telling the children to cover their eyes half a second too late. A wife and mother gunned down in the street because Chan wasn't good enough at his job.

He woke in the dead of night, the scent of flowers lingering heavy in the room. He had fallen asleep atop the comforter, but realized he was covered by a soft throw. The covers beside him were rumpled and warm, as though someone had been lying there until very recently. Running his hands across the bedding, Chan clutched at it, wishing for all the world that he'd woken up sooner, but he never did.

When Chan did wake from a dead sleep, it was to the sound of something shifting from elsewhere in the house. A tiny spark lit in his chest, thinking it might be Hyunjin. Then again, he had rarely heard the man make so much as a whisper as he moved, and whoever was currently crossing his living room wasn't nearly so skilled. Rising from his bed as quietly as possible, he picked up the Glock from his bedside table and clicked off the safety before making his way to the door. Pressing his ear to the wood, he heard only silence. 

Slowly turning the knob, Chan paused before opening the door far enough to poke the muzzle through and sight down the short barrel. Nothing. Slipping out into the main room, he dropped into a firing stance and cleared from one side to the other, his eyes already adjusted to the gloom. Again, nothing, but Chan knew he had heard something. 

Moving into the kitchen, he repeated the pattern, but still found himself alone. There - a slight clink from the main room. Turning back, Chan made it as far as the doorway before feeling a sharp, stinging pain in the side of his neck. The world went fuzzy around the edges as his thoughts slowed to a crawl, and then everything went black. 

He awoke to a rush of ice cold water thrown in his face, making him sputter and choke. Blinking his eyes open, Chan saw concrete walls in the light of a bare bulb hanging from the rafters of a high ceiling. It swung slightly back and forth, making the floor seem to move. He thought he might be sick.

The room was large, probably part of a warehouse somewhere, tall industrial windows blacked out with peeling paint. Stationed along the walls, two men and a woman looked bored, heavy firepower pointed at the floor. Breaking out wouldn't be easy, especially as woozy as he felt. 

His shirt was gone, and Chan's arms ached, tied to the chair behind him. He couldn't move his feet, and realized they were similarly bound. Any attempt at standing up would surely end with Chan flat on his face. An unfamiliar man paced in front of him like a captive beast, slapping a nightstick against his palm. 

“Good evening, Mr. Bahng.” The man addressed him in a friendly, almost welcoming tone. “I apologize for our inhospitality.”

“Fuck off,” Chan spat. “Who are you?”

“Which is it?” the man asked. “Fuck off, as you so politely demanded, or answer your question?”

Chan remained silent. The last thing he wanted to do right now was have a conversation with this asshole. 

“It doesn't matter who I am,” the man continued after a moment. “The only thing that matters right now is what you can tell me. Should you provide me with what I need to know, then you can be on your way and we'll put this whole messy business behind us.”

“What do you want to know?” Chan asked, fishing.

“A good attitude already,” the man said, sounding pleased. “I do believe I like you, Mr. Bahng.”

Chan scoffed. Wiggling his fingers, he felt the rope give just the slightest bit. Good. As long as he kept the man talking, he had a decent chance of getting out of this alive. 

“Your employer recently had a little meeting with a business rival of mine, Kim Jin-woo, and I was hoping you could tell me what they discussed.”

Chan scrambled to find something, anything to feed his interrogator. He had been at the meeting, of course, but it hadn't seemed particularly important at the time. Just another client Park was wining and dining at a fancy restaurant. 

“Right,” Chan said, twisting his wrists. “They met up in the basement of a parking deck at Fourth and Division.” 

The man hummed. “That doesn't seem quite right,” he said. “Why don't you try again?”

Chan let out an exaggerated sigh and picked a different lie. “Fine, it was at Mandu Maison, over on Hawthorne. Private room in the back.”

The man nodded. “That does sound like Park,” he said. “Always pleasure before business.”

Chan let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Score one for bullshit.

“Second question,” the man continued as Chan tried to conceal his movements. “What are they looking to move?”

Chan blinked. As far as he could remember, they had been discussing Persian antiquities, or more specifically, moving something inside the artifacts. He had tuned the conversation out while closely watching the exit and the servers, just so much background noise. 

“I overheard something about five crates,” he bluffed. “Park doesn't tell me those kinds of details.”

“Wrong,” the man said, taking a step closer. “I don't appreciate being lied to.” 

He struck out with the baton, aiming a blow to Chan's midsection. It connected with a sharp sting that quickly faded into a harsh burn. Could be worse, Chan thought. It could be a knife.

“Try again,” the man said, pacing around the chair in a circle. 

“I don't know,” Chan answered, wracking his brain for a better answer. “I'm security, not logistics.”

The next blow was to the back of his skull, the baton connecting with a loud crack. It knocked him forward, nearly toppling the chair until his tormentor grabbed it by the back and held it steady. 

“Moving on for now,” the man said, returning to stand before him. “Who's the end buyer? Who are they working with?”

“I don't know,” Chan ground out. Another lie, but Park would have him killed for sharing that little tidbit. “You've got the wrong guy for that sort of information.”

“Somehow I don't think so,” the man said. “I think you know everything that Park gets up to, above board or otherwise.”

“I really don't,” Chan answered, bracing for the next blow, and the next, and the next. They rained down as he refused to answer any further questions, some because he simply didn't know the answers. At least it wasn't -

Fuck. It was. 100,000 volts rocketed through his system as the man upped his interrogation game. Chan thought about Hyunjin; beautiful, dangerous Hyunjin, who he would never see again if he kept playing his cards wrong. It was almost enough to make him give away all he knew - almost. Chan couldn't afford another cut to his reputation, and he knew it. 

“One more time, Mr. Bahng,” the man said as Chan's head spun. Blood dripped down into his right eye and he tried to blink it away. “Who is Jin-woo working with?”

Chan had lost the plot entirely as the room spun, having made no progress on the ropes. The light burned his eyes, shifting afterimages making him feel ill. He knew that Kim was only the middleman, that Han Seong-ho was the buyer looking for plausible deniability should the acquisition go belly up. 

The irony stung; he didn't even care, but Park did, and leaving Park's employ meant leaving Hyunjin. Or, worst case scenario, a bullet to his brain, assuming this asshole didn't kill him first. 

“Last chance,” the man said, drawing a wickedly sharp blade from his belt. 

Chan opened his mouth, then closed it again. This was going to hurt. 

A sound from the far wall caught his attention as one of the goons fell to his knees, then toppled over. Blood pulsed from his neck to pool around him, and he didn't get up. The man with the baton turned at the sound, glancing back at Chan with a frown. He simply shrugged in response. 

A second guard gasped out in surprise like a fish drowning on the shore. He too slumped to the ground, an object embedded in his skull from a different angle. Smart, Chan thought. Don't give them the sound of a bullet to locate. 

Death stalked the rest on silent feet as the interrogator dropped his knife, pulling a .40 Sig Saur tucked at the small of his back. He focused on the rafters, turning in a slow circle without firing as Chan worked at his ropes. He had nearly gotten one wrist free when the man went down hard, a throwing star lodged just below his Adam's apple. Another impacted his chest, sticking out as blood began to soak through his vest. He raised his pistol in one shaking hand, presumably to take Chan with him to his grave, and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

The shot never came. Opening his eyes a crack, Chan watched as a lithe figure easily pulled the gun from his hand and aimed a kick to his chest, ramming the star in deeper. The man dropped to the ground, lifeless, the threat at last neutralized. A hand brushed against his cheek and Chan leaned into it, the smell of jasmine rising to surround him like a cloud. 

“Hyunjin,” he whispered, all he could manage to push past his lips. 

“I'm here,” he said, stroking Chan's cheekbone with his thumb. “I've got you.”

Chan felt a shudder work its way through his body, bringing with it a harsh, broken sound as it burst from his chest. The pain was over, for now.

“You came,” he whispered, disbelieving.

“Of course I did,” Hyunjin said. “Hold still,” he added, sawing through the ropes binding Chan's arms. 

He didn't move immediately once they fell away, unable to convince his muscles to work. Strong hands massaged his fingers, traveling up to his wrists to circulate the blood. It was nearly as painful as a strike from the baton, but Chan didn't complain. Hyunjin knelt to cut the ropes from his ankles, and Chan managed to bring one arm around, stroking the omega's hair. He pressed up into it like a cat, and Chan scratched lightly at his scalp. 

Then he was free and falling, unable to stop his forward momentum. Hyunjin caught him easily, lowering him to his knees on the concrete. Chan rested his forehead against Hyunjin's shoulder as Hyunjin wrapped his arms around him, loosely so as not to hurt. Chan gripped him tight in response. What was a little more pain at the end of the day?

“Let's get out of here, before anyone else shows up,” Hyunjin suggested. 

Helping Chan to his feet, Hyunjin carried most of his weight as they left through a side door. Chan noted two other guards outside, dispatched similarly as the ones within. 

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Chan said, adding up the body count. 

Hyunjin didn't answer, but Chan could see his soft smile in response. Reaching the short alley where he had stashed his bike, Hyunjin tossed Chan a helmet, then paused. 

“Do you think you can hang on?” he asked. 

Chan nodded, fastening the strap on the helmet below his chin. In truth, he wasn't sure, but he didn't really have a choice. Hyunjin frowned, but climbed on the bike and waited for Chan to do the same. The ride wasn't pleasant, making places hurt that Chan didn't even know could hurt, but at last Hyunjin pulled into the drive next to the house. Helping Chan from the bike to the door, Hyunjin pulled a key from his pocket. 

“So that's how you've been sneaking in and out,” Chan said with a smile. 

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment, seeming almost embarrassed. “Easier than picking the lock every time,” he mumbled. 

Chan nuzzled at his hair and Hyunjin gave a small laugh. Leaning Chan against the kitchen counter, Hyunjin made him drink a glass of water as he looked over his injuries. 

“I probably should have taken you to a hospital,” Hyunjin said, poking at a purpling bruise. 

“Hate hospitals,” Chan said, shaking his head then regretting the motion. “I don't think it's anything worse than a couple of cracked ribs.”

“Or a concussion,” Hyunjin groused, leaning back against the counter next to him. 

Chan felt the back of his head, wincing when his fingers brushed two painful lumps. “I've had worse,” he lied. 

Hyunjin made a displeased sound. “Alpha healing or not, you're going to get checked out.”

“Baby,” Chan said, cracking a smile. “You've been checking me out for months.”

A soft knock at the door forestalled a response from Hyunjin, making Chan jump. On high alert until Hyunjin peered through the blinds and nodded, he tried to urge his muscles to relax, if for no other reason than to hurt less. Opening the door, Chan saw Park's personal physician on the other side, and Hyunjin ushered him in as if he owned the place. 

“Are you serious?” Chan hissed. 

Hyunjin's glare in return could have frozen a bonfire. Chan rolled his eyes, but sat through an exam at the kitchen table, winding up with cream and plasters on his burns and a bandage wrapped around his ribs. A cut at his hairline warranted stitches to heal closed, but otherwise the doctor signed off on his condition without a trip anywhere else. It was a good thing; Chan wanted to sleep for a week. 

Hyunjin followed him into the bedroom, pulling a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants from his chest of drawers. Chan couldn't help but smile, realizing that he hadn't imagined the lingering scent of jasmine on his clothing some mornings. Hyunjin was an inveterate snoop. 

Tugging Chan behind him into the bathroom with a hand at his elbow, Hyunjin ran warm water to wet a washcloth in the sink. Carefully wiping the traces of violence from his skin, Hyunjin tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear. It was the most tender gesture Hyunjin had ever made toward him, and Chan’s heart skipped in his chest to feel it. He could tell Hyunjin was stalling and waited him out, leaning into the touch. 

“Why didn't you just tell them what they wanted to know?” Hyunjin demanded, his voice fraying as the words finally broke loose. “Park isn't worth that kind of loyalty.”

“You are,” Chan replied, no longer feeling as though he might fly apart at any moment. The world had finally stopped spinning; Hyunjin's scent, his touch, held him together. 

“What?” Hyunjin asked, his arm going stiff where he held the cloth to Chan's face.

“If Park fired me, or y'know, had me killed for spilling my guts,” Chan explained, “I'd never see you again. So, worth it. For you.”

“Idiot,” Hyunjin said so softly Chan could barely hear it, softening the blow with a kiss to his forehead. “I'd find you, even in hell.”

“I don't doubt it,” Chan said with a small laugh, wrapping his arm around Hyunjin's waist to keep him close. “Not for a second.”

Hyunjin smiled down at the floor before leading Chan back into the bedroom and gesturing toward the clothing that wasn't covered in blood and grime. Chan only needed a little help to put it on, Hyunjin's hands dancing across his skin as though afraid to linger. Returning to the kitchen, he brought Chan another glass of water and some aspirin, watching until Chan drank it all down. 

All but shoving Chan into bed, he lingered to pull up the covers before turning off the lamp. The words stay and please were on Chan's lips when Hyunjin paused for an interminable second before crawling in beside him. Hyunjin proved restless, first lying on his back, then his side, as though unable to get comfortable. 

“Jin,” Chan said, reaching behind for his hand and pulling him close, wrapping one arm around his waist. 

“This isn't going to hurt?” Hyunjin asked, still holding himself back.

“Nope,” Chan lied, deciding it was worth it. 

Hyunjin relaxed against him, pressing a soft kiss to the crook of Chan's neck, followed by resting his forehead there. “Try not to get kidnapped again, all right?” he admonished.

“I'll do my best not to worry you,” Chan said with a smile. 

“Good,” Hyunjin said fiercely. “I don't like worrying, didn't like how it felt, knowing you were in danger.” He paused for a moment, worrying at his lower lip with a sigh. “I don't know how to do this, Chan. I think I used to, but I'm not that person anymore, if I'm a person at all. I'm not —”

“Shh,” Chan interrupted, twining his fingers with Hyunjin's where they rested on his stomach. “I'm not any good at this, either. We'll figure it out.”

Hyunjin pressed a kiss to the back of Chan's neck. “Okay,” he said, relief evident in his tone. “Okay.”

The morning found them still tangled together, Hyunjin's head pillowed on Chan’s shoulder, Chan's arms around him tight. His breath ghosted across Chan's skin, eventually tickling him awake. Craning his neck, Chan pressed a soft kiss to the top of Hyunjin's head.

“Mrph,” Hyunjin said, or tried to, still mostly asleep.

“You stayed,” Chan said, feeling warm down to his toes because of it.

Hyunjin lifted his head to meet Chan's gaze. “Not getting rid of me,” he mumbled before flopping back down.

“God, I hope not,” Chan said, giving him a gentle squeeze.

They drifted together in the early morning haze, the world outside crisp and cool while they stayed warm within. After a while, Hyunjin levered himself up on one arm to press a kiss to Chan's lips, then another. Chan's hand rose to card through his hair, gently holding him in place. The kiss deepened until a fire stirred in Chan's gut, mirrored in the way Hyunjin nipped and licked, slowly pulling back with Chan's lower lip between his teeth.

Sliding down, Hyunjin pushed Chan's shirt up to lick and suck at one nipple, his fingers toying with the other. Chan let out a surprised sound at just how good it felt, feeling his cock stiffen at the sensations Hyunjin pulled from his body. His ribs ached, but Chan determined to ignore the pain, too thrilled to finally have Hyunjin back in his arms.

After what felt like ages, Hyunjin slid farther down Chan's body, pressing hot, wet kisses into the skin as he went. Reaching Chan's hips, he tugged the sweatpants down and out of the way. Dipping his tongue into the grooves where his hips met his thighs, Hyunjin licked a stripe along the underside of his cock. Chan felt it twitch, a sharp burst of pleasure bolting through his body. Sucking the head into his mouth, Hyunjin swirled his tongue around it, sliding along the taut line below.

Chan let his fingers tangle in Hyunjin's hair, resisting the urge to hold his head down and thrust. Hyunjin seemed to read his mind, taking him all the way in as he pressed Chan's hand firmly against the back of his head. Swallowing around it, Hyunjin sucked hard, cupping Chan’s balls in one hand to roll them between his fingers. It felt too good, the temptation too great, and Chan gave an experimental thrust.

Hyunjin hummed around his cock, sliding two fingers just behind his sack and pressing up, rubbing in a slow circle. Chan's cock kicked in his mouth and he thrust again, encouraged by the noises Hyunjin was making. Before long, he was gripping Hyunjin's hair and holding him down as he lifted his hips, over and over, chasing a greater pleasure than he thought he had ever felt.

Chan tried to warn Hyunjin when he was close, tugging hard on his hair, but the omega remained stubbornly in place and only sucked harder. He came hard, shooting down Hyunjin's throat and making him cough as he pulled back a bit, stroking Chan through it. The orgasm was electric, ripping through his body harder than the stun baton but thoroughly welcome as his neck arched against the pillow. He thrust up against Hyunjin's mouth again and again until the pleasure at last loosed him from its grip and he fell back against the bed.

Hyunjin pulled off with a pop, rubbing the mess from his mouth with one arm. “You taste even better than I thought,” he managed, his throat hoarse.

“I'm glad,” Chan mumbled, his head spinning. “Because that was amazing. Beyond amazing, it was perfect, god. You're insanely good at that.”

Hyunjin smiled as Chan pulled him up for a fierce kiss, not minding the traces of his own come mingling with saliva. Anything from Hyunjin's mouth was delicious. Rolling them over with only a little difficulty, Chan deepened the kiss, making it a filthy slide of hungry mouths and tongues. He rubbed and pulled at Hyunjin’s nipples, playing with the barbells as if they were toys just for him and loving the sounds Hyunjin made against his mouth.

Reaching down, Chan stroked his palm along the length of Hyunjin's pussy through the briefs he had slept in, rubbing a slow circle at the top. Hyunjin rocked his hips forward into the touch, a soft hum leaving his lips as Chan tugged the fabric down. Drawing his fingers along the slit, Chan gathered up the slick leaking through and played with his clit, loving the way it twitched. He teased for a while, circling and flicking at the tip before pressing in past the velvety soft folds. Sliding along one with his thumb and forefinger, Chan moved up and down as Hyunjin rolled his hips up, his tongue sliding along Chan's where their mouths joined.

Then Chan was brushing past his entrance, toying with the rim as he pressed against it and pulled away, tracing slow circles with his fingers. Hyunjin whined, grinding down against his hand until Chan took pity on him and slipped two fingers inside. He made a beautiful sound as Chan slid in and out, in and out, crooking his fingers just right. Making sure to catch Hyunjin's clit with his palm every few thrusts, it wasn't long before Chan felt him getting close.

It was a strange sensation, almost as though he could feel an echo of Hyunjin's pleasure as his own. Chan felt his cock filling out again as Hyunjin pushed against his hand, then fingers brushing along his length, urging it harder. Before he knew it, Hyunjin had cast his underwear aside and threw a leg over his hips to straddle him. Rocking forward, he slid his slick-wet pussy where it counted. It felt amazing, made even more so when Hyunjin lifted up to let his cock slide inside. He let out a groan that Chan felt in his own chest as he worked his way down, pulling up before dropping back until he was fully seated against Chan's hips.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin gasped out. “Love having you inside me. Feels perfect.”

“It does,” Chan agreed, rolling up in a gentle thrust, his hands coming to rest on Hyunjin's hips.

Hyunjin had other ideas, taking Chan's hands in his own and pressing them down against the mattress. Chan let him, unused to giving up even the least bit of control, but somehow craving it now. Kissing him slowly, deliberately, Hyunjin squeezed as he pulled up and pushed back down, making needy sounds against Chan's mouth. It went on forever, slow and steady and perfect, just as Hyunjin had said. Chan felt a bead of sweat drip down from Hyunjin's forehead to land on his own and wished he could taste it. The pressure built inside him, and when Chan could no longer handle the pace, he pushed up, managing to flip them over by sheer force of will.

Hyunjin made a gorgeous sound of submission, sinking down into the bedding as Chan twined their fingers back together, holding him in place. He could feel his knot beginning to swell as he thrust in and out, slowing him down. It must have dragged along just the right place as Hyunjin grasped at his shoulders, claws tearing into Chan's skin. The sharp sting only added to the pleasure rolling through Chan in waves as he chased their combined pleasure, finally bound together as his knot grew too large to fully pull out.

Chan couldn't even remember the last time he'd knotted anyone, so used to quick, meaningless encounters just to blow off steam. This was different – Hyunjin was different, in every way possible. Chan wanted to stay locked inside him forever, to keep him close enough to touch, to share his breath and his mouth and his tongue. He wanted everything, all strings attached.

Rising to his knees, Chan finally managed to rid himself of his sweatpants and tossed them into the room behind him. Dragging Hyunjin's hips forward, he changing the angle. Chan toyed with his nipples, unable to resist the allure of the metal piercing through. Hyunjin locked his ankles behind him, arching his back off the bed at the feel of Chan's knot sliding deeper. He was lost to it, eyes hooded and glassy as he gripped the sheets tight. Chan circled his clit with his thumb, alternating strokes with quick flicks and pinches and it wasn't long before Hyunjin clutched around him, rhythmic, a long, ragged moan torn from his throat.

Chan held on tight to his hips, thrusting hard and deep. His own climax overtook him before he was ready, but unable to stave it off any longer. He couldn't help it; he never wanted the moment between them to end. Electricity flowed through his veins, his hips thrusting, his back arching, and Chan came harder than he thought he ever had in his life. His vision blurred out to gold and white static, and Chan hovered almost outside himself before crashing back down to earth.

Hyunjin was waiting to catch him, wrapping Chan up in his arms as he collapsed forward. He pressed kisses to the shell of Chan's ear, to his cheek, his chin. In the stillness that followed, Chan could hear a soft purr rising up from Hyunjin's throat, surrounding him like a blanket, and he answered back with a rumble of his own. He couldn't remember a moment of happiness so complete as the space they had carved out together, content just to breathe one another in.

Chan knew what he wanted to say; wanted, but didn't, because he wanted Hyunjin to believe it. To know it wasn't just the heat of the moment, but something altogether life-altering, a shift in his center of gravity, a change in his orbit. So he waited, knowing the right time would come.

For others, it might mean leaving a place like this behind, but Chan knew better. Danger ran in their blood like fire. People like them simply weren't meant for peace, except perhaps what could be found between each other. Somehow, Chan knew that would be more than enough.

“When did you get so under my skin?” Hyunjin asked, stroking Chan's hair.

He hummed in response. “I can't answer that,” he said. “But you had me from the first.”

“First sight or first shot?” Hyunjin questioned, a smile coloring his tone.

“It was both,” Chan answered. “Whether you were aiming for me or not, you got me.”

“Oh, I was,” Hyunjin assured him, pulling Chan up for a kiss. “And I always hit my mark.”