Skyfall and The Devil's Kiss (i)
Title: Skyfall and The Devil's Kiss (i)
Pairing: Minho/Onew
Rating: R ( I guess)
Words: ~10,595(combined)
Summary: He was here on official police business, not to play whimsical nut rag to a notoriously corrupt thief.
Notes: Literally NO idea where this came from and why I wrote it. And it's unedited so don't like...throw things at me.
In 2048, a rare septicemic virus swept the world up in a whirlwind of misery and claimed the lives of half of the world’s population. The media named it White Death-at the final stage of the virus, the eyes would lose all pigment resulting in a milky white iris. Aside from the devastating effects to the body, the White Eye was the most frightening thing the world had ever seen. In 2050, Dr. Lee of Janus Laboratories, after years of research, developed a vaccine that would reverse the effects of the virus if taken early enough. The virus would stay at bay as long as the patient took a booster every year. With that, the world began to heal and reconstruct itself, but the toll the virus took would take years to fix….
Seoul Jewelry Museum - 2058 A.D.
“Admiring?”
He circled the case, his hands clasped behind his back as he came to stand beside a man taller than him. With a slow sweep, he took in the tailored suit-expensive, fancy, debonair-nicer than his but not by much. Still the fine cut of the fabric molded to his body in a way that was inherent, as if he was meant to wear it, that money was a secondary feature to him like his long lean legs or his smooth full lips. The cufflinks were Monteblac, a brand he knew the man was obsessive about. Shoes were shiny, the bowtie was crisp. He looked good, great actually, but he’d be hard-pressed to admit it. The man didn’t need any encouragement.
As he approached, the taller man stayed facing forward, his eyes never straying from the golden globe tucked inside of the case. “Admiring is exactly what I’m doing. This is an exhibit and that’s what people do. Admire. ”
“It’s a private showing, actually. Invite only. How is it that you came to receive an invitation? I wasn’t aware you and the owner knew each other that well.”
“I have my resources.” The man shifted his weight to stare over his shoulder. “Boring sculptures, boring paintings, boring pieces of jewelry. You questioning my attendance here is rather odd when this doesn’t seem like the sort of event you’d be interested in, Detective Lee.”
Jinki chuckled. “I don’t look like the type, do I?”
The man reclined his head in answer. “You never have.”
As they continued to look at the large marbled globe that sat wide on the floor, an attendant with a few flutes of champagne centered on a silver platter approached them, interrupting their conversation.
“Rose Perrier-Jouet ,sir?” she said as she turned to Jinki. He nodded and accepted the flute with a smile hell bent on captivation and the attendant blushed in response. He tipped the glass to his lips and took a sip. “Delicious. Thank you.” She was able to tear her eyes from him finally noticing the man next to him. “And for your…friend?”
Jinki grinned and tipped his head towards the man her eyes were trained on. “We’re not friends.”
He could see the man roll his eyes at his response. “Don’t listen to him-we are very good friends.” Graciously, he accepted the proffered flute of the expensive sparkling wine and took a sniff of its fragrance. “He’s grumpy because he’s on duty and these sorts of occasions require him to tie a bowtie…and he can’t manage that without help.” The woman glanced between the two with a weak smile, unsure of who to believe before she turned and continued to the next patron.
“Friends.” Jinki snorted. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Choi.”
Choi Minho took a sip, his eyes closing as if he were savoring the light and elegant taste of champagne that was hard to produce in current days. “I believe that we are friends and I can’t believe you’d think otherwise. Speaking of… “he said as he finished the drink. “Besides this great friendship that we share is there a reason in particular you are here tonight? Trailing me, I suppose?” Minho inquired as he held out his hand out, gesturing for them to walk.
The Seoul Jewelry Museum was holding a charity event; something that hobnob high society folk like to do every once in a while as contribution back to society. Or it was a way to curb as much karmic retribution they could afford for living as lavishly as they did. While they sipped on expensive champagne and nibbled on foreign hors d'oeuvres, the rest of the world was more concerned with paying for the outrageously expensive annual vaccine they needed to survive. Ostentatious events such as these came a price, one that most couldn’t afford.
Luckily for Jinki, his family had not been affected by the plague and his father’s research on the virus had been devastating to the longevity of it. By that right, after the epidemic passed, his family found themselves in a position of wealth. They’d always been well off, but they skyrocketed into more money than they knew what to do with. It was amazing. However, despite their newfound riches, Jinki preferred to work. Justice, his calling, was the reason why instead of being hunched over a microscope at his father’s research firm, he was standing in a museum, watching over a notorious, yet sophisticated and incredibly charming art thief.
The two of them continued to walk through the museum until they approached the center display in the Red Room. It was the centerpiece of the entire museum-a ten foot high display of glass and metal with a gold and white pedestal centered in a halo of white. Atop a pristine white pillow was The Ethiopian Coptic Cross heavily encrusted with white and yellow diamonds. Jinki saw the gleam in Minho’s eye as he bent over to take a closer look at it.
“Is there any reason I should be trailing you?” Jinki asked as he tapped on the glass.
Jinki had known Minho long enough to know that it didn’t take much encouragement for him to pour on as much charm as he thought he needed. The taller man straightened at the detective’s questions and turned slightly towards him. Smoothly, he glided his hand up the arm of Jinki’s tuxedo until it reached his shoulder, where he massaged lightly. “You know, for a man who has refused every invitation I’ve so delicately maneuvered in his path, the thought of you following me around tonight kind of gets me hot under the collar. I could show you….”
Jinki rolled his eyes and brushed the hand off. “Stay on topic. You’re assuming I’m following you that I didn’t show up tonight to enjoy fine art, jewelry, and people.”
“Oh, I know you’re following me- “Minho countered, arrogantly. His hand slipped past any vocal barriers that Jinki was determined to throw up so that his fingers rested lightly on his hip. He took a step closer, bringing his lips to Jinki’s ears. “-and we both know you’re following me. The sad thing is there’s nothing you can do to catch me, Lee Jinki. Why? Because I don’t plan on doing anything that requires you catching me…that is unless you want me to.”
Jinki shuddered as Minho’s warm breath fingered across his ear and he took a step back, leaving the cocoon of over familiarity and half-truths. “Enjoy yourself tonight, Mr. Choi.”
Minho’s smirk as Jinki withdrew from the whispers and the past was enthralling. “Oh, I plan on it.”
“How much is it worth?”
Minho sighed. “This is a prime example of why I request you do your homework before we start a job.”
“Stop being a naggy little bitch and tell me.”
“Thirteen billion.”
Minho placed his hand to his ear and winced, the feedback from the other side squealing in his ear. He kept his face calm-he didn’t want to attract any more attention from the nosey do-gooder detective eyeing him from across the room. “Kibum,” he hissed into his cufflink communicator.
“Jesus Christ. That’s enough money to buy everyone in Rakers a vial or two.”
“Seven, actually. Seven years longer than they’ve got now. Are you all set?”
“Affirmative. Taemin is waiting for you by the elevator.”
Minho nodded. “Buzz him and let him know I’ll be there in a few.”
He postured around a marble headpiece exhibit for a few minutes before he smoothly looked around. No one in particular was paying him any attention, not even the detective, so he turned for the hallway and made his way towards the elevator in the very back of the museum. Taemin, dressed as a server, stood in front of the elevator looking relaxed and unhurried. When he heard Minho approaching, he pressed the direction button without looking back.
The doors opening and they both entered silently, Taemin pulling a heavy wheeled serving cart in with him, and Minho pretending that the cart was in his way. Once inside Taemin reached over to the elevator panel and pressed the button for the top floor. The moment the doors slid close, they moved into action. Taemin squatted low to lift the white linen that draped over the sides to pull out a wide hard bottomed duffle bag. Inside the bag were two perforated ski poly-cyber mask and two skin tight body glove black jumpsuits. Quietly, Minho watched as Taemin pulled it over his clothes.
Minho reached for his communicator again. “Kibum, time to kill the cameras. Power drop on the fourth floor in 5…4…3…2 and go.” Minho flipped his wrist and on the face of his watch he could see the lights flicking off on the fourth floor. He turned to Taemin. “Okay. Up you go.” The younger man turned to Minho with a grin and placed his foot in the crux on his hands. Minho grunted as he raised Taemin to the panel on the elevator roof. When he was high enough, Taemin knocked twice and the panel slid back. Kibum peeked through the hole and hoisted Taemin through it.
“Okay, lights back on. Camera redirection a go,” the strawberry blond said once Taemin was on the roof of the elevator. “I wonder if security was smart enough to catch that?”
“Probably not. Most of the focus is on the ground floor,” Minho explained as he hoisted the duffle bag through the open panel. “A small mistake for them, victory for us.”
The curator of the museum was a smart man; held a few advanced degrees in management, a doctorate in art but despite his educational background, Minho was smarter. While patrons mulled around from exhibit to exhibit downstairs, they were ignorant to the fact that a third of the items were counterfeit. The curator and Director of Security had a working rotation of real items and their fakes. Every night at exactly eleven p.m., the security detail would swap out items with their replicas, or swap replicas with their replicas. It was a system that allowed no one but the two of them to know which items on the floor were real versus which items in the vault were fake. A deterrent for thief.
That was unless you were the Director of Security’s wife.
A few well-placed words and nimble talented fingers and soon both she and the truth were naked before him. The supple truth provided without hesitation from her lips was that tonight, the Coptic Cross being displayed downstairs was a fake, and so was the one in the secondary vault. The real Coptic cross was on the top floor-exactly where they were heading.
The plan was simple. The layout of the museum allowed nearly zero margin of error when it came to breaching the vault. Nearly. Connecting the 4th and 5th floors was a ventilation system installed with a very prickly CO2 system that cooled the vault. The three of them were standing right beneath it on top of the elevator.
“This should be a piece of cake,” Kibum said lightly as he looked up at the metal panel welded to the wall. “Right.”
Minho sighed. “Let’s hope so.”
Jinki believed in a lot of things. All righteous bullshit in the eyes of certain people but they were his beliefs. Things like, work hard, be good to your wife, don’t steal. Another thing he believe in was that he and Minho practiced the different beliefs. It’s exactly how he found himself on the roof of the museum pointing his gun at two men as they prepared to rappel down the side of the building. He’d known not to let Choi out of his sight for too long, but somehow the wife of the chairman to his father’s foundation had cornered him about something he hadn’t been prepared to listen to and for forty two frightening minutes he’d lost track of Minho.
In all honesty, if the man was here to steal something, you would think that the guards stationed in front of the vaults would be enough to allow Jinki to enjoy his evening. But he’d known Minho long enough to know that he could stall an army if it meant getting his hands on something valuable.
“CHOI! FREEZE!” The two men on the roof looked over their shoulders, contemplated for a second and did the exact opposite. They cut the wires connecting them to the roof and let them slip over the side.
Jinki took cautious steps towards them. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone, Minho.”
The taller of the two men giggled and Jinki frowned. “You’re looking for the wrong guy. I don’t know where this Minho is, but if you want to keep looking for him and leave us be, then by all means…”
Jinki’s brows pulled together. That didn’t sound like the smooth baritone he was used to. “Whoever…you are, stop moving and put your hands up! I’m not going to warn you again.”
“He was right. You are handsome. However, sweetheart, can’t do that. Sorry! Send our condolences to the curator, hmm?” The taller one jested. He nodded at the other one and they both took a step off the building, disappearing over the lip of the roof before Jinki could yell for them to stop.
He ran to the edge, panicking as he grappled for his cell phone. He looked over and blinked, and released the air in his lungs because really he thought they’d outlawed plexifiber wingsuits decades ago. Still, illegal or not, it didn’t stop the two from sailing through the air and out of his sight.
Nights later he was hunched over a report, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. The lab ran the security footage from the night of the heist. He wouldn’t have believed it if he wasn’t seeing it for himself. The video showed Choi Minho getting onto the elevator and five…maybe ten minutes later, getting back off the elevator on his way back towards the museum floor where he stayed for the duration of the entire robbery. There was even a moment where Jinki walked past him on his way to the same elevator Minho had vacated. The footage from the top floor where the real Coptic Cross was being held showed nothing. Not even the damn thing disappearing. The cameras inside of the vault had been tampered with.
He sighed and slammed his fist on the table. This had been his very problem for the last five years after he was assigned to a string of high profile robberies cases. After a year worth of detail he’d narrowed his suspect list down to one person. Choi Minho. There wasn’t a shadow of doubt that it was him. It was in his blood. His mother Minjung had been one of the best to have ever done it. She’d robbed half of Seoul and Tokyo clean of some of its most previous jewels. She was a legend. No telling how far and how large she would have become if the virus hadn’t claimed her life years before she hit her prime. Now her prodigal son son had taken over where she left off and he might be as good or even better than she was.
The only problem was-just like his mother-no one had ever been able to get proof. Circumstantial evidence, sure: Minho was seen at the event, Minho’s pattern was recognized in a theft, Minho knew someone who knew someone who knew someone who was there- anything Jinki could think of. Yet it’d never been enough to tie him to any crime committed directly. That was never any truer as it was at the exact moment when he was forced to remove Minho from the World Jewelry Museum suspect list.
“A thirteen billion won clunky piece of jewelry disappears and no one sees it walk the hell out of the museum.” Jinki glared at the report before he tossed it into a file.
Standing abruptly, he grabbed his jacket and his phone and stormed towards the door.
“Where are you going?” The question came from Chanyeol, a fellow detective who would have been his partner if Jinki wasn’t notorious at getting them all fired. He liked to work by himself.
“To the airport. Get me all of the known addresses of a Hong Kong fence called Kio Chang. He’s the only one who would take on this job. Find out Minho’s last known whereabouts, too and send them to my phone.”
“But…wasn’t he taken off the suspects list?”
Jinki paused at the door. “Off of yours, but never off of mines.”
“Okay, now this is bordering on harassment.”
The white linen cabanas lined most of the beach from the front of the hotel to the edge of the shore. They were banked by tall pampas grass and were expensive to rent. Most would think they were used to lounge in as people splashed and played along the beach. The truth was it shielded most from the hot sun that was intensified by the extremely thinning ozone layer and it was generally the only way to enjoy the beach for longer than an hour without suffering a heat stroke or dermal burns. The white linen blocked the sun but it was the electronic UV shield that hummed just inside of it that did most of the protecting.
Inside of Cabana #21 was Choi Minho, atop a massage table, covered only by a thin towel and a newly arrived Detective Lee Jinki, who’d used his badge to scare away the masseuse. With a quick tug, the sides of the cabana fell close, blocking off the view inside.
“Harassment would imply that you don’t enjoy it.”
Minho looked up at Jinki’s hip. “Only if you plan on using those cuffs,” he leered with a raised brow. “If not, I’d call it harassment. So...” he said before he laid his head back down. “What brings Deputy Do-Right all the way to Repulse Beach? I’m sure a workaholic with no social life such as yourself didn’t decide in the middle of a workweek to take a vacation on a whim. Something must be wrong. Although I can guess what it is by that ridiculous frown on your face.”
“Seen Kio Chang recently?”
“And who is that?”
Jinki crossed the cabana to stand at the head of the masseuse table. “I don’t have all day for you to play stupid. Although I can’t prove that you stole that cross, I can lock you up for international dealings with a known fence. So do me a favor. Turn yourself in and save us all a lot of trouble.”
Minho looked up, incredulously, his brow raised so high that it seemed to disappear into his hairline. “That is the worst bluff you’ve ever pulled out of your ass and you know it.” He sat up and twisted until he could relax back on his elbows. “You’re a strange person. Fly all the way to Hong Kong on a half chance that you could trip me up when we both know that it is an impossible thing to do. Save you the trouble? If you had any evidence, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. Rather, I’d be thrown in the back of a squad car on my way to jail.”
Jinki raised a brow at him. “Sounds like an admittance of guilt to me.”
“It can sound like what it wants.” Minho slid from the table and gave the other man a long appraising glance. Jinki’s stance said more than he wanted. It was open, relaxed, confident but at the same time defensive as if he could read Minho’s mind. Smirking because he felt like a lion and Jinki a gazelle, he approached him, watching his steps so that he could maneuver him back towards the table. “But the truth is, no matter what you do, you can’t catch me.”
He dipped his head as he pulled up close to Jinki. That was the reaction he was looking for -dilated pupils, flared nostrils, a drop of sweat beading at his temple. It encouraged him to step closer until he was pressing his lithe body up against Jinki’s. Jinki tried to escape, pressing back but Minho’s hands on his hips and the masseuse table behind him prevented it. There was a wild panic in Jinki’s eyes, like he couldn’t figure out the dynamics of flight or fight and it amused Minho on a feral level. He liked it when Detective Lee was like this, unsure of what he wanted.
It could be because Minho was never quite sure exactly what Jinki wanted. On paper, it was Jinki’s desire to finally topple Minho’s wild crime spree, to claim ownership to saving the streets, and to prove to Minho that he couldn’t slip and slide his way into the things he wanted, the lifestyle he wanted. Minho, on the other hand made every attempt to stay out of Detective Lee’s path. But paper, as white and strict as it was, was never adequate in telling a good and honest story. Paper also said nothing about the sort of tension that playing cat and mouse for years can create between two people who should be enemies-who were enemies.
The pure undiluted truth was there was enough sexual tension between the two of them to level a city block.
Smiling, he licked his lips and lowered them to Jinki’s ear. The older man didn’t pull away and Minho was sure he heard a slight whimper come from him. “Want to know why you can’t catch me?” He waited a breath; enough time for panic to flash over Jinki’s skin before he abruptly straightened and took a step back from the detective.
“Because of a little thing called proof.”
Quickly, while Jinki was still stunned, he slid his feet into his slippers, deactivated the UV shield with a deep command and exited the canopy. He followed the canopied walkway into the hotel, careful not to step into the hot sand. As he stepped to the front entrance, he looked over his shoulder to see Jinki following him -because if there was one thing Detective Lee was good at, it was that.
As he continued into the front lobby, the receptionist behind the desk began to call after him; something about needing to put a shirt on, but he waved her off with an annoyed flick of his hand. He rounded the corridor and walked onto the open elevator. Ignoring the looks the others on the elevator were giving him, understanding that he was half naked and not really caring and he held the door open until Jinki slid in. Smoothly, he maneuvered them to the corner close the clear glass of the elevator wall.
He waited until the elevator was lumbering up the floors to make his move. The older man was distracted and mostly unassuming and that provided him the perfect opportunity to snake a hand around his waist to pull him back against his chest. When Jinki opened his mouth to protest Minho brought his lips to his ear again. “Shhh. Things like this go a bit smoother when people aren’t paying attention.” He paused for a second to see if Jinki was going to continue to protest or if finally he was going to be a good boy and let Minho have his way.
He felt him relax against his chest and did a silent cheer in his head. Bringing his other hand down to Jinki’s hip, he braced himself against the wall of the elevator and pressed his hips forward, grunting as the thin layer of his towel did nothing to suppress his growing erection against the back of Jinki’s ass. Jinki stiffened but didn’t move. Minho licked his lips and ran his tongue up the side of Jinki’s neck and hovered over his ear against before nibbling on his lobe.
“Why can’t you just admit what this is? To allow us to enjoy it, to explore it? Admit that you feel something, anything? Because I feel it every time I’m around you. It’s in my sheets when I wake up; it’s in my hand when I fist myself thinking about you.” He dug low, rocking himself against Jinki’s ass as their surroundings melted away to only him and this stubborn man before him. “Five years, Jinki, of wanting to touch you like this, to be close to you like this and you’re going to tell me you don’t feel it too? That I’m the only one?”
Minho continued to grind himself against Jinki’s backside, groaning when he felt the older man shaking. “God, you feel so good, you know that? It’s taking everything in me not to-“
Before he could finish that thought, the elevator dinged and they were at his floor. He waited patiently until the remaining patrons filed out before he moved from behind Jinki, not really caring that his erection was tenting his towel.
He turned right as he stepped in to the hallway. “Three things. One, I’m not here to meet Kio Chang. If I were a thief, I wouldn’t use a fence as obvious as that old bag of hot air. Two, my room number is 1241. And three, you are more than welcome to subject me to more of your…interrogation when we have dinner tonight.”
The look on Jinki’s face was priceless as the elevator doors closed.
Jinki paced in his room-freshly purchased because he’d practically sprinted downstairs to book it-completely embarrassed and mortified that he was even contemplating taking Minho up on his offer. He was here on official police business, not to play whimsical nut rag to a notoriously corrupt thief. Then he thought about it. What better way to keep an eye on him, than to actually be in his presence.
It’s easy enough to tell yourself anything, now a days.
He glanced at his watch. Forty-five minutes till seven, which was the time Minho had decided dinner would be. He’d announced it by sending up a midday snack through room service; a plate of ketchup that spelled out the time with a happy face. Fucking idiot.
He steeled his shoulders. He was going to enjoy a nice dinner, try to wheedle out as much information from Minho as he could and then he was going to go to sleep-in his own bed. He was not sleeping with Minho. Jinki jutted his chin and nodded to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Feeling confident in his decision, he programmed the voice activated shower to a perfect 106 degrees and stepped in. The water cascaded from a waterfall faucet and jets of warm water shot out from the wall. The music coming from the speakers was nice and calming, some kind of wind instruments over a soothing voice, and combined with the water, Jinki found himself closing his eyes and letting the experience relax him.
That was until he felt two arms slide around his waist to hug him from behind.
Jinki started, startled. “What in God’s name-“
A voice chuckled against his ear. “That’s not the name I want to hear coming from you right now.”
Before Jinki could question why Minho was in his shower, full lips latched onto the back of his neck, mouthing nonsensical words as his tongue lapped at the droplets of water slinking down his back. Both hands tightened as they pulled him closer-one held him in place while the other slithered around, trying to touch everything in its reach.
“What are you doing?” Jinki panted out, his eyes squeezing shut as the hand began a southern route using a trail of happiness as its guide.
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m enjoying you-how you feel, how you smell, how you taste.” The voice was impossibly deep and it caused a shudder to run down Jinki’s spine so powerful he thought he’d fall if not for the strong arm holding him up.
To punctuate that fact, the hand fisted his cock in a firm grip and took no time in stroking Jinki into a complete mess.
“That’s it, baby. Let go.”
He knew he was close, he could feel the heat pooling around the tip of his toes, making its way up his legs, the tiny spasm of pleasure clawing at his knees, but it was the way the deep voice whispered out “Come for me,” that had him curling over as he climaxed, wet and sticky against the shower floor.
He waited until his breathing calmed to open his eyes. There was no hand holding him up, no tongue against his neck, and no hand milking him dry. He looked down and sighed at his own hand wrapped around his cock. Maybe coming here was a mistake.
Okay, so he was nervous. It was one thing to play at smooth and debonair, especially when his line of work called for such charm, but it was a completely different thing to go on a date-because that’s what this was…a date. Like a real date, the kind you set up for someone you like, the kind they’d denied in the past. The kind you go overboard on and the palms of your hands start to sweat and there is sometimes word vomit and embarrassing moments because you’ve laid yourself raw. He looked over the hotel room’s arrangement. Everything looked fine until he got to the bed. The rose petals. He groaned, because that was way too obvious, so he rushed to the bed to scoop them up in his hand and dump them into the waste basket.
He’d ordered a rather expensive bottle of champagne, one that his lousy budget would pay for later…in a creative way. He glanced around the fancy hotel room. He didn’t want to think of how much it set him back. He hated the idea of having to steal to cater to a man who loathed the fact that he stole. But if only it were as simple as stealing, as if it was some kind of addiction and he could just stop with the right kind of therapy. But people depended on him, lots of people, and if he knew a better way to survive, you could bet your last fucking dollar he would do it.
The spacious walk in closet inside of the room housed a pretty large mirror and he walked in to inspect himself. He’d toned it down, both in his forward cavaliering attitude and clothing: starched khaki slacks, a nice fitted cotton shirt, a dark blazer and a pair of simple loafers. He hoped he didn’t come off as the pretentious asshole he’d always shown to Jinki. He was going for comfortable…? He raked his hands through his hair. This was going to be a disast-
There was a knock at his door and he looked down at his watch. “He’s early.”
He checked himself in the mirror one last time before rushing to the door. The door swung open and Minho made sure he was all smiles. “I’m glad you could ma-“ He stuttered off with a frowned. “Who are you?”
“Room service, sir. I was asked to deliver this to you?” The servant was young and cute and Minho appraised him for a moment in slight appreciation before he looked at what he was holding in his hand. He plucked the slip of paper out of his hand and unfolded it.
Minho,
I can’t. I’m sorry.
Jinki.
Alarmed, he grabbed the servant by the shoulder. “When did he give you this note? Where is he?”
“A few minutes ago, sir. He was waiting for a taxi outside the front lobby.”
Minho balled the sheet of paper in his hand and rushed out of the room towards the steps, leaving the young man in front of his unattended room. He flew through the stairwell exit, taking them two and four at a time. By the time he’d reached the lobby floor he was winded. Inhaling a galloping breath, he continued, sprinting through the front entrance and found Jinki standing by the curb.
“You-you’re sorry?”
Jinki turned on his heels, surprise causing his chin to drop. “Minho?”
“Can’t you just stop?! The running?”
The surprised waned from Jinki’s face and a callous unbothered look replaced it as he turned back to the curb. “Stop being melodramatic.”
“This is not me being melodramatic. This is me being mad. This is me being frustrated.”
“Mad?” Jinki replied incredulously. “You know what I had planned for tonight? Interrogation. Twenty-one questions. Five fucking W’s to fight my way inside of your head, to break you down so you would tell me everything and anything I wanted you to. I was going to use you, Minho and I was going to be an asshole about it, knowing damn well it would have worked. But I didn’t want to. I still don’t want to and I’m not going to do that to you so just stop, okay? Go back inside and forget I was here.”
Minho wanted to rip each and every one of his hairs off his scalp and throw them on the ground and then stomp and scream in Jinki’s face. “Detective Lee,” he managed with the patience he didn’t have. “I know what you are. I know what you want and I can’t stand you. You make me sick, alright? Sick to my fucking stomach. You don’t know how bad I want you to go away and never come back-“
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. I mean sans the never come back part but-“
“-HOWEVER, Lee Jinki? The man I met who lied about being a detective, the one with the eager laugh and the never-ending smile and stupid jokes? Him? I like him. I like him a lot. ”
Jinki rolled his eyes. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what? Be honest?”
“Yes! Be honest! Be an asshole, be suave and over confident…be you! I don’t want to deal with…this. Nothing can come from this, Minho! I am an officer of the law; you steal for kicks, why even go down that road?” The taxi pulled up and Jinki began walking towards it.
“For kicks?” Minho uttered incredulously. “Do you even …do you even know why I do what I do? That there are hundreds of people that depend on me so they don’t die? That because your father came up with a cure and BioVas charges so much for it, that people can’t afford it? That I have to steal to make sure they survive for another year? But it’s for kicks?” Minho carded his hands through his hair. “Okay, whatever, you’re right. Let’s pretend this didn’t happen, that this doesn’t exist. Let’s pretend forever. ”
Minho turned back for the hotel, more hurt than his stupid ego should allow him to. He’d shed his cocky alter-ego at the threshold of his hotel room and left himself exposed in the name of possibilities and stupid hope. And Jinki was right. Was there any kind of hope for them outside of carnal lust? Shit, he couldn’t even get that right.
“Minho, wait.”
“It’s okay, Jinki. I get it,” he threw over his shoulder, not bothering to slow down as he walked back in the hotel. He stopped when he felt a hand wrapped around his wrist.
“You have to cut me some slack here! I don’t understand. This is the most sincere I’ve seen you in a long time. Long time ago, you tried once and that was a lie!”
Minho spun on him so fast that Jinki had to take a step back. “Don’t you dare do that…try to blame me. You,” and he poked his finger to Jinki’s chest, “you approached me.”
part ii
Pairing: Minho/Onew
Rating: R ( I guess)
Words: ~10,595(combined)
Summary: He was here on official police business, not to play whimsical nut rag to a notoriously corrupt thief.
Notes: Literally NO idea where this came from and why I wrote it. And it's unedited so don't like...throw things at me.
In 2048, a rare septicemic virus swept the world up in a whirlwind of misery and claimed the lives of half of the world’s population. The media named it White Death-at the final stage of the virus, the eyes would lose all pigment resulting in a milky white iris. Aside from the devastating effects to the body, the White Eye was the most frightening thing the world had ever seen. In 2050, Dr. Lee of Janus Laboratories, after years of research, developed a vaccine that would reverse the effects of the virus if taken early enough. The virus would stay at bay as long as the patient took a booster every year. With that, the world began to heal and reconstruct itself, but the toll the virus took would take years to fix….
Seoul Jewelry Museum - 2058 A.D.
“Admiring?”
He circled the case, his hands clasped behind his back as he came to stand beside a man taller than him. With a slow sweep, he took in the tailored suit-expensive, fancy, debonair-nicer than his but not by much. Still the fine cut of the fabric molded to his body in a way that was inherent, as if he was meant to wear it, that money was a secondary feature to him like his long lean legs or his smooth full lips. The cufflinks were Monteblac, a brand he knew the man was obsessive about. Shoes were shiny, the bowtie was crisp. He looked good, great actually, but he’d be hard-pressed to admit it. The man didn’t need any encouragement.
As he approached, the taller man stayed facing forward, his eyes never straying from the golden globe tucked inside of the case. “Admiring is exactly what I’m doing. This is an exhibit and that’s what people do. Admire. ”
“It’s a private showing, actually. Invite only. How is it that you came to receive an invitation? I wasn’t aware you and the owner knew each other that well.”
“I have my resources.” The man shifted his weight to stare over his shoulder. “Boring sculptures, boring paintings, boring pieces of jewelry. You questioning my attendance here is rather odd when this doesn’t seem like the sort of event you’d be interested in, Detective Lee.”
Jinki chuckled. “I don’t look like the type, do I?”
The man reclined his head in answer. “You never have.”
As they continued to look at the large marbled globe that sat wide on the floor, an attendant with a few flutes of champagne centered on a silver platter approached them, interrupting their conversation.
“Rose Perrier-Jouet ,sir?” she said as she turned to Jinki. He nodded and accepted the flute with a smile hell bent on captivation and the attendant blushed in response. He tipped the glass to his lips and took a sip. “Delicious. Thank you.” She was able to tear her eyes from him finally noticing the man next to him. “And for your…friend?”
Jinki grinned and tipped his head towards the man her eyes were trained on. “We’re not friends.”
He could see the man roll his eyes at his response. “Don’t listen to him-we are very good friends.” Graciously, he accepted the proffered flute of the expensive sparkling wine and took a sniff of its fragrance. “He’s grumpy because he’s on duty and these sorts of occasions require him to tie a bowtie…and he can’t manage that without help.” The woman glanced between the two with a weak smile, unsure of who to believe before she turned and continued to the next patron.
“Friends.” Jinki snorted. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Choi.”
Choi Minho took a sip, his eyes closing as if he were savoring the light and elegant taste of champagne that was hard to produce in current days. “I believe that we are friends and I can’t believe you’d think otherwise. Speaking of… “he said as he finished the drink. “Besides this great friendship that we share is there a reason in particular you are here tonight? Trailing me, I suppose?” Minho inquired as he held out his hand out, gesturing for them to walk.
The Seoul Jewelry Museum was holding a charity event; something that hobnob high society folk like to do every once in a while as contribution back to society. Or it was a way to curb as much karmic retribution they could afford for living as lavishly as they did. While they sipped on expensive champagne and nibbled on foreign hors d'oeuvres, the rest of the world was more concerned with paying for the outrageously expensive annual vaccine they needed to survive. Ostentatious events such as these came a price, one that most couldn’t afford.
Luckily for Jinki, his family had not been affected by the plague and his father’s research on the virus had been devastating to the longevity of it. By that right, after the epidemic passed, his family found themselves in a position of wealth. They’d always been well off, but they skyrocketed into more money than they knew what to do with. It was amazing. However, despite their newfound riches, Jinki preferred to work. Justice, his calling, was the reason why instead of being hunched over a microscope at his father’s research firm, he was standing in a museum, watching over a notorious, yet sophisticated and incredibly charming art thief.
The two of them continued to walk through the museum until they approached the center display in the Red Room. It was the centerpiece of the entire museum-a ten foot high display of glass and metal with a gold and white pedestal centered in a halo of white. Atop a pristine white pillow was The Ethiopian Coptic Cross heavily encrusted with white and yellow diamonds. Jinki saw the gleam in Minho’s eye as he bent over to take a closer look at it.
“Is there any reason I should be trailing you?” Jinki asked as he tapped on the glass.
Jinki had known Minho long enough to know that it didn’t take much encouragement for him to pour on as much charm as he thought he needed. The taller man straightened at the detective’s questions and turned slightly towards him. Smoothly, he glided his hand up the arm of Jinki’s tuxedo until it reached his shoulder, where he massaged lightly. “You know, for a man who has refused every invitation I’ve so delicately maneuvered in his path, the thought of you following me around tonight kind of gets me hot under the collar. I could show you….”
Jinki rolled his eyes and brushed the hand off. “Stay on topic. You’re assuming I’m following you that I didn’t show up tonight to enjoy fine art, jewelry, and people.”
“Oh, I know you’re following me- “Minho countered, arrogantly. His hand slipped past any vocal barriers that Jinki was determined to throw up so that his fingers rested lightly on his hip. He took a step closer, bringing his lips to Jinki’s ears. “-and we both know you’re following me. The sad thing is there’s nothing you can do to catch me, Lee Jinki. Why? Because I don’t plan on doing anything that requires you catching me…that is unless you want me to.”
Jinki shuddered as Minho’s warm breath fingered across his ear and he took a step back, leaving the cocoon of over familiarity and half-truths. “Enjoy yourself tonight, Mr. Choi.”
Minho’s smirk as Jinki withdrew from the whispers and the past was enthralling. “Oh, I plan on it.”
“How much is it worth?”
Minho sighed. “This is a prime example of why I request you do your homework before we start a job.”
“Stop being a naggy little bitch and tell me.”
“Thirteen billion.”
Minho placed his hand to his ear and winced, the feedback from the other side squealing in his ear. He kept his face calm-he didn’t want to attract any more attention from the nosey do-gooder detective eyeing him from across the room. “Kibum,” he hissed into his cufflink communicator.
“Jesus Christ. That’s enough money to buy everyone in Rakers a vial or two.”
“Seven, actually. Seven years longer than they’ve got now. Are you all set?”
“Affirmative. Taemin is waiting for you by the elevator.”
Minho nodded. “Buzz him and let him know I’ll be there in a few.”
He postured around a marble headpiece exhibit for a few minutes before he smoothly looked around. No one in particular was paying him any attention, not even the detective, so he turned for the hallway and made his way towards the elevator in the very back of the museum. Taemin, dressed as a server, stood in front of the elevator looking relaxed and unhurried. When he heard Minho approaching, he pressed the direction button without looking back.
The doors opening and they both entered silently, Taemin pulling a heavy wheeled serving cart in with him, and Minho pretending that the cart was in his way. Once inside Taemin reached over to the elevator panel and pressed the button for the top floor. The moment the doors slid close, they moved into action. Taemin squatted low to lift the white linen that draped over the sides to pull out a wide hard bottomed duffle bag. Inside the bag were two perforated ski poly-cyber mask and two skin tight body glove black jumpsuits. Quietly, Minho watched as Taemin pulled it over his clothes.
Minho reached for his communicator again. “Kibum, time to kill the cameras. Power drop on the fourth floor in 5…4…3…2 and go.” Minho flipped his wrist and on the face of his watch he could see the lights flicking off on the fourth floor. He turned to Taemin. “Okay. Up you go.” The younger man turned to Minho with a grin and placed his foot in the crux on his hands. Minho grunted as he raised Taemin to the panel on the elevator roof. When he was high enough, Taemin knocked twice and the panel slid back. Kibum peeked through the hole and hoisted Taemin through it.
“Okay, lights back on. Camera redirection a go,” the strawberry blond said once Taemin was on the roof of the elevator. “I wonder if security was smart enough to catch that?”
“Probably not. Most of the focus is on the ground floor,” Minho explained as he hoisted the duffle bag through the open panel. “A small mistake for them, victory for us.”
The curator of the museum was a smart man; held a few advanced degrees in management, a doctorate in art but despite his educational background, Minho was smarter. While patrons mulled around from exhibit to exhibit downstairs, they were ignorant to the fact that a third of the items were counterfeit. The curator and Director of Security had a working rotation of real items and their fakes. Every night at exactly eleven p.m., the security detail would swap out items with their replicas, or swap replicas with their replicas. It was a system that allowed no one but the two of them to know which items on the floor were real versus which items in the vault were fake. A deterrent for thief.
That was unless you were the Director of Security’s wife.
A few well-placed words and nimble talented fingers and soon both she and the truth were naked before him. The supple truth provided without hesitation from her lips was that tonight, the Coptic Cross being displayed downstairs was a fake, and so was the one in the secondary vault. The real Coptic cross was on the top floor-exactly where they were heading.
The plan was simple. The layout of the museum allowed nearly zero margin of error when it came to breaching the vault. Nearly. Connecting the 4th and 5th floors was a ventilation system installed with a very prickly CO2 system that cooled the vault. The three of them were standing right beneath it on top of the elevator.
“This should be a piece of cake,” Kibum said lightly as he looked up at the metal panel welded to the wall. “Right.”
Minho sighed. “Let’s hope so.”
Jinki believed in a lot of things. All righteous bullshit in the eyes of certain people but they were his beliefs. Things like, work hard, be good to your wife, don’t steal. Another thing he believe in was that he and Minho practiced the different beliefs. It’s exactly how he found himself on the roof of the museum pointing his gun at two men as they prepared to rappel down the side of the building. He’d known not to let Choi out of his sight for too long, but somehow the wife of the chairman to his father’s foundation had cornered him about something he hadn’t been prepared to listen to and for forty two frightening minutes he’d lost track of Minho.
In all honesty, if the man was here to steal something, you would think that the guards stationed in front of the vaults would be enough to allow Jinki to enjoy his evening. But he’d known Minho long enough to know that he could stall an army if it meant getting his hands on something valuable.
“CHOI! FREEZE!” The two men on the roof looked over their shoulders, contemplated for a second and did the exact opposite. They cut the wires connecting them to the roof and let them slip over the side.
Jinki took cautious steps towards them. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone, Minho.”
The taller of the two men giggled and Jinki frowned. “You’re looking for the wrong guy. I don’t know where this Minho is, but if you want to keep looking for him and leave us be, then by all means…”
Jinki’s brows pulled together. That didn’t sound like the smooth baritone he was used to. “Whoever…you are, stop moving and put your hands up! I’m not going to warn you again.”
“He was right. You are handsome. However, sweetheart, can’t do that. Sorry! Send our condolences to the curator, hmm?” The taller one jested. He nodded at the other one and they both took a step off the building, disappearing over the lip of the roof before Jinki could yell for them to stop.
He ran to the edge, panicking as he grappled for his cell phone. He looked over and blinked, and released the air in his lungs because really he thought they’d outlawed plexifiber wingsuits decades ago. Still, illegal or not, it didn’t stop the two from sailing through the air and out of his sight.
Nights later he was hunched over a report, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. The lab ran the security footage from the night of the heist. He wouldn’t have believed it if he wasn’t seeing it for himself. The video showed Choi Minho getting onto the elevator and five…maybe ten minutes later, getting back off the elevator on his way back towards the museum floor where he stayed for the duration of the entire robbery. There was even a moment where Jinki walked past him on his way to the same elevator Minho had vacated. The footage from the top floor where the real Coptic Cross was being held showed nothing. Not even the damn thing disappearing. The cameras inside of the vault had been tampered with.
He sighed and slammed his fist on the table. This had been his very problem for the last five years after he was assigned to a string of high profile robberies cases. After a year worth of detail he’d narrowed his suspect list down to one person. Choi Minho. There wasn’t a shadow of doubt that it was him. It was in his blood. His mother Minjung had been one of the best to have ever done it. She’d robbed half of Seoul and Tokyo clean of some of its most previous jewels. She was a legend. No telling how far and how large she would have become if the virus hadn’t claimed her life years before she hit her prime. Now her prodigal son son had taken over where she left off and he might be as good or even better than she was.
The only problem was-just like his mother-no one had ever been able to get proof. Circumstantial evidence, sure: Minho was seen at the event, Minho’s pattern was recognized in a theft, Minho knew someone who knew someone who knew someone who was there- anything Jinki could think of. Yet it’d never been enough to tie him to any crime committed directly. That was never any truer as it was at the exact moment when he was forced to remove Minho from the World Jewelry Museum suspect list.
“A thirteen billion won clunky piece of jewelry disappears and no one sees it walk the hell out of the museum.” Jinki glared at the report before he tossed it into a file.
Standing abruptly, he grabbed his jacket and his phone and stormed towards the door.
“Where are you going?” The question came from Chanyeol, a fellow detective who would have been his partner if Jinki wasn’t notorious at getting them all fired. He liked to work by himself.
“To the airport. Get me all of the known addresses of a Hong Kong fence called Kio Chang. He’s the only one who would take on this job. Find out Minho’s last known whereabouts, too and send them to my phone.”
“But…wasn’t he taken off the suspects list?”
Jinki paused at the door. “Off of yours, but never off of mines.”
“Okay, now this is bordering on harassment.”
The white linen cabanas lined most of the beach from the front of the hotel to the edge of the shore. They were banked by tall pampas grass and were expensive to rent. Most would think they were used to lounge in as people splashed and played along the beach. The truth was it shielded most from the hot sun that was intensified by the extremely thinning ozone layer and it was generally the only way to enjoy the beach for longer than an hour without suffering a heat stroke or dermal burns. The white linen blocked the sun but it was the electronic UV shield that hummed just inside of it that did most of the protecting.
Inside of Cabana #21 was Choi Minho, atop a massage table, covered only by a thin towel and a newly arrived Detective Lee Jinki, who’d used his badge to scare away the masseuse. With a quick tug, the sides of the cabana fell close, blocking off the view inside.
“Harassment would imply that you don’t enjoy it.”
Minho looked up at Jinki’s hip. “Only if you plan on using those cuffs,” he leered with a raised brow. “If not, I’d call it harassment. So...” he said before he laid his head back down. “What brings Deputy Do-Right all the way to Repulse Beach? I’m sure a workaholic with no social life such as yourself didn’t decide in the middle of a workweek to take a vacation on a whim. Something must be wrong. Although I can guess what it is by that ridiculous frown on your face.”
“Seen Kio Chang recently?”
“And who is that?”
Jinki crossed the cabana to stand at the head of the masseuse table. “I don’t have all day for you to play stupid. Although I can’t prove that you stole that cross, I can lock you up for international dealings with a known fence. So do me a favor. Turn yourself in and save us all a lot of trouble.”
Minho looked up, incredulously, his brow raised so high that it seemed to disappear into his hairline. “That is the worst bluff you’ve ever pulled out of your ass and you know it.” He sat up and twisted until he could relax back on his elbows. “You’re a strange person. Fly all the way to Hong Kong on a half chance that you could trip me up when we both know that it is an impossible thing to do. Save you the trouble? If you had any evidence, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. Rather, I’d be thrown in the back of a squad car on my way to jail.”
Jinki raised a brow at him. “Sounds like an admittance of guilt to me.”
“It can sound like what it wants.” Minho slid from the table and gave the other man a long appraising glance. Jinki’s stance said more than he wanted. It was open, relaxed, confident but at the same time defensive as if he could read Minho’s mind. Smirking because he felt like a lion and Jinki a gazelle, he approached him, watching his steps so that he could maneuver him back towards the table. “But the truth is, no matter what you do, you can’t catch me.”
He dipped his head as he pulled up close to Jinki. That was the reaction he was looking for -dilated pupils, flared nostrils, a drop of sweat beading at his temple. It encouraged him to step closer until he was pressing his lithe body up against Jinki’s. Jinki tried to escape, pressing back but Minho’s hands on his hips and the masseuse table behind him prevented it. There was a wild panic in Jinki’s eyes, like he couldn’t figure out the dynamics of flight or fight and it amused Minho on a feral level. He liked it when Detective Lee was like this, unsure of what he wanted.
It could be because Minho was never quite sure exactly what Jinki wanted. On paper, it was Jinki’s desire to finally topple Minho’s wild crime spree, to claim ownership to saving the streets, and to prove to Minho that he couldn’t slip and slide his way into the things he wanted, the lifestyle he wanted. Minho, on the other hand made every attempt to stay out of Detective Lee’s path. But paper, as white and strict as it was, was never adequate in telling a good and honest story. Paper also said nothing about the sort of tension that playing cat and mouse for years can create between two people who should be enemies-who were enemies.
The pure undiluted truth was there was enough sexual tension between the two of them to level a city block.
Smiling, he licked his lips and lowered them to Jinki’s ear. The older man didn’t pull away and Minho was sure he heard a slight whimper come from him. “Want to know why you can’t catch me?” He waited a breath; enough time for panic to flash over Jinki’s skin before he abruptly straightened and took a step back from the detective.
“Because of a little thing called proof.”
Quickly, while Jinki was still stunned, he slid his feet into his slippers, deactivated the UV shield with a deep command and exited the canopy. He followed the canopied walkway into the hotel, careful not to step into the hot sand. As he stepped to the front entrance, he looked over his shoulder to see Jinki following him -because if there was one thing Detective Lee was good at, it was that.
As he continued into the front lobby, the receptionist behind the desk began to call after him; something about needing to put a shirt on, but he waved her off with an annoyed flick of his hand. He rounded the corridor and walked onto the open elevator. Ignoring the looks the others on the elevator were giving him, understanding that he was half naked and not really caring and he held the door open until Jinki slid in. Smoothly, he maneuvered them to the corner close the clear glass of the elevator wall.
He waited until the elevator was lumbering up the floors to make his move. The older man was distracted and mostly unassuming and that provided him the perfect opportunity to snake a hand around his waist to pull him back against his chest. When Jinki opened his mouth to protest Minho brought his lips to his ear again. “Shhh. Things like this go a bit smoother when people aren’t paying attention.” He paused for a second to see if Jinki was going to continue to protest or if finally he was going to be a good boy and let Minho have his way.
He felt him relax against his chest and did a silent cheer in his head. Bringing his other hand down to Jinki’s hip, he braced himself against the wall of the elevator and pressed his hips forward, grunting as the thin layer of his towel did nothing to suppress his growing erection against the back of Jinki’s ass. Jinki stiffened but didn’t move. Minho licked his lips and ran his tongue up the side of Jinki’s neck and hovered over his ear against before nibbling on his lobe.
“Why can’t you just admit what this is? To allow us to enjoy it, to explore it? Admit that you feel something, anything? Because I feel it every time I’m around you. It’s in my sheets when I wake up; it’s in my hand when I fist myself thinking about you.” He dug low, rocking himself against Jinki’s ass as their surroundings melted away to only him and this stubborn man before him. “Five years, Jinki, of wanting to touch you like this, to be close to you like this and you’re going to tell me you don’t feel it too? That I’m the only one?”
Minho continued to grind himself against Jinki’s backside, groaning when he felt the older man shaking. “God, you feel so good, you know that? It’s taking everything in me not to-“
Before he could finish that thought, the elevator dinged and they were at his floor. He waited patiently until the remaining patrons filed out before he moved from behind Jinki, not really caring that his erection was tenting his towel.
He turned right as he stepped in to the hallway. “Three things. One, I’m not here to meet Kio Chang. If I were a thief, I wouldn’t use a fence as obvious as that old bag of hot air. Two, my room number is 1241. And three, you are more than welcome to subject me to more of your…interrogation when we have dinner tonight.”
The look on Jinki’s face was priceless as the elevator doors closed.
Jinki paced in his room-freshly purchased because he’d practically sprinted downstairs to book it-completely embarrassed and mortified that he was even contemplating taking Minho up on his offer. He was here on official police business, not to play whimsical nut rag to a notoriously corrupt thief. Then he thought about it. What better way to keep an eye on him, than to actually be in his presence.
It’s easy enough to tell yourself anything, now a days.
He glanced at his watch. Forty-five minutes till seven, which was the time Minho had decided dinner would be. He’d announced it by sending up a midday snack through room service; a plate of ketchup that spelled out the time with a happy face. Fucking idiot.
He steeled his shoulders. He was going to enjoy a nice dinner, try to wheedle out as much information from Minho as he could and then he was going to go to sleep-in his own bed. He was not sleeping with Minho. Jinki jutted his chin and nodded to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Feeling confident in his decision, he programmed the voice activated shower to a perfect 106 degrees and stepped in. The water cascaded from a waterfall faucet and jets of warm water shot out from the wall. The music coming from the speakers was nice and calming, some kind of wind instruments over a soothing voice, and combined with the water, Jinki found himself closing his eyes and letting the experience relax him.
That was until he felt two arms slide around his waist to hug him from behind.
Jinki started, startled. “What in God’s name-“
A voice chuckled against his ear. “That’s not the name I want to hear coming from you right now.”
Before Jinki could question why Minho was in his shower, full lips latched onto the back of his neck, mouthing nonsensical words as his tongue lapped at the droplets of water slinking down his back. Both hands tightened as they pulled him closer-one held him in place while the other slithered around, trying to touch everything in its reach.
“What are you doing?” Jinki panted out, his eyes squeezing shut as the hand began a southern route using a trail of happiness as its guide.
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m enjoying you-how you feel, how you smell, how you taste.” The voice was impossibly deep and it caused a shudder to run down Jinki’s spine so powerful he thought he’d fall if not for the strong arm holding him up.
To punctuate that fact, the hand fisted his cock in a firm grip and took no time in stroking Jinki into a complete mess.
“That’s it, baby. Let go.”
He knew he was close, he could feel the heat pooling around the tip of his toes, making its way up his legs, the tiny spasm of pleasure clawing at his knees, but it was the way the deep voice whispered out “Come for me,” that had him curling over as he climaxed, wet and sticky against the shower floor.
He waited until his breathing calmed to open his eyes. There was no hand holding him up, no tongue against his neck, and no hand milking him dry. He looked down and sighed at his own hand wrapped around his cock. Maybe coming here was a mistake.
Okay, so he was nervous. It was one thing to play at smooth and debonair, especially when his line of work called for such charm, but it was a completely different thing to go on a date-because that’s what this was…a date. Like a real date, the kind you set up for someone you like, the kind they’d denied in the past. The kind you go overboard on and the palms of your hands start to sweat and there is sometimes word vomit and embarrassing moments because you’ve laid yourself raw. He looked over the hotel room’s arrangement. Everything looked fine until he got to the bed. The rose petals. He groaned, because that was way too obvious, so he rushed to the bed to scoop them up in his hand and dump them into the waste basket.
He’d ordered a rather expensive bottle of champagne, one that his lousy budget would pay for later…in a creative way. He glanced around the fancy hotel room. He didn’t want to think of how much it set him back. He hated the idea of having to steal to cater to a man who loathed the fact that he stole. But if only it were as simple as stealing, as if it was some kind of addiction and he could just stop with the right kind of therapy. But people depended on him, lots of people, and if he knew a better way to survive, you could bet your last fucking dollar he would do it.
The spacious walk in closet inside of the room housed a pretty large mirror and he walked in to inspect himself. He’d toned it down, both in his forward cavaliering attitude and clothing: starched khaki slacks, a nice fitted cotton shirt, a dark blazer and a pair of simple loafers. He hoped he didn’t come off as the pretentious asshole he’d always shown to Jinki. He was going for comfortable…? He raked his hands through his hair. This was going to be a disast-
There was a knock at his door and he looked down at his watch. “He’s early.”
He checked himself in the mirror one last time before rushing to the door. The door swung open and Minho made sure he was all smiles. “I’m glad you could ma-“ He stuttered off with a frowned. “Who are you?”
“Room service, sir. I was asked to deliver this to you?” The servant was young and cute and Minho appraised him for a moment in slight appreciation before he looked at what he was holding in his hand. He plucked the slip of paper out of his hand and unfolded it.
Minho,
I can’t. I’m sorry.
Jinki.
Alarmed, he grabbed the servant by the shoulder. “When did he give you this note? Where is he?”
“A few minutes ago, sir. He was waiting for a taxi outside the front lobby.”
Minho balled the sheet of paper in his hand and rushed out of the room towards the steps, leaving the young man in front of his unattended room. He flew through the stairwell exit, taking them two and four at a time. By the time he’d reached the lobby floor he was winded. Inhaling a galloping breath, he continued, sprinting through the front entrance and found Jinki standing by the curb.
“You-you’re sorry?”
Jinki turned on his heels, surprise causing his chin to drop. “Minho?”
“Can’t you just stop?! The running?”
The surprised waned from Jinki’s face and a callous unbothered look replaced it as he turned back to the curb. “Stop being melodramatic.”
“This is not me being melodramatic. This is me being mad. This is me being frustrated.”
“Mad?” Jinki replied incredulously. “You know what I had planned for tonight? Interrogation. Twenty-one questions. Five fucking W’s to fight my way inside of your head, to break you down so you would tell me everything and anything I wanted you to. I was going to use you, Minho and I was going to be an asshole about it, knowing damn well it would have worked. But I didn’t want to. I still don’t want to and I’m not going to do that to you so just stop, okay? Go back inside and forget I was here.”
Minho wanted to rip each and every one of his hairs off his scalp and throw them on the ground and then stomp and scream in Jinki’s face. “Detective Lee,” he managed with the patience he didn’t have. “I know what you are. I know what you want and I can’t stand you. You make me sick, alright? Sick to my fucking stomach. You don’t know how bad I want you to go away and never come back-“
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. I mean sans the never come back part but-“
“-HOWEVER, Lee Jinki? The man I met who lied about being a detective, the one with the eager laugh and the never-ending smile and stupid jokes? Him? I like him. I like him a lot. ”
Jinki rolled his eyes. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what? Be honest?”
“Yes! Be honest! Be an asshole, be suave and over confident…be you! I don’t want to deal with…this. Nothing can come from this, Minho! I am an officer of the law; you steal for kicks, why even go down that road?” The taxi pulled up and Jinki began walking towards it.
“For kicks?” Minho uttered incredulously. “Do you even …do you even know why I do what I do? That there are hundreds of people that depend on me so they don’t die? That because your father came up with a cure and BioVas charges so much for it, that people can’t afford it? That I have to steal to make sure they survive for another year? But it’s for kicks?” Minho carded his hands through his hair. “Okay, whatever, you’re right. Let’s pretend this didn’t happen, that this doesn’t exist. Let’s pretend forever. ”
Minho turned back for the hotel, more hurt than his stupid ego should allow him to. He’d shed his cocky alter-ego at the threshold of his hotel room and left himself exposed in the name of possibilities and stupid hope. And Jinki was right. Was there any kind of hope for them outside of carnal lust? Shit, he couldn’t even get that right.
“Minho, wait.”
“It’s okay, Jinki. I get it,” he threw over his shoulder, not bothering to slow down as he walked back in the hotel. He stopped when he felt a hand wrapped around his wrist.
“You have to cut me some slack here! I don’t understand. This is the most sincere I’ve seen you in a long time. Long time ago, you tried once and that was a lie!”
Minho spun on him so fast that Jinki had to take a step back. “Don’t you dare do that…try to blame me. You,” and he poked his finger to Jinki’s chest, “you approached me.”
part ii