In Your Bones: Chapter 4
notes: sorry this is a late update, my internet was froggy this morning uwu
[ Previously...]
Jongdae still can’t figure out what the connection is, between him and Yifan. He looked up the Chinese man’s social media, stalked his finances, even found his school yearbooks online. They have not crossed paths even once. Kai didn’t give any useful information on their connection, either, but- then again… Jongdae didn’t even ask.
It’s another Saturday night at Jongdae’s apartment, Sehun and Minseok lounging on the couch and taking a break from the headache-inducing glare of the computer screens. Jongdae is leaning against the counter in his kitchen, arms folded across his chest as he stares at the backsplash behind his oven. He tries to imagine what it would take to burn something into the tile. Something really hot, no doubt. But that charred of a mark means that whatever had burned there, had burned for a while. Right? Because those lines were crisp, the edges neat and it was blacker than black and Jongdae can’t think of a single thing that could do that. His first instinct was to see if it was a sticker, some prank, but when CSI went back and scraped at it, nothing but burnt flecks fluttered down and dirtied the stove.
“Jongdae…”
Sehun’s soft voice brings Jongdae back to reality. The younger officer is entering the kitchen and rubbing his eyes, looking all sorts of sleepy as he fumbles to open the fridge.
“Hey,” Jongdae greets, smiling. He steps forward, “What are you after? I’ll grab it for you.”
“Cereal,” Sehun yawns, and then, like the spoiled brat he is, sits down at the kitchen table to allow Jongdae to fix him up a bowl. “Aren’t you even tired?”
“Exhausted,” Jongdae replies, setting the bowl down in front of Sehun and then sitting heavily across from him. “But every time I sleep…” He trails off. He won’t say out loud that he’s been having nightmares, dreams plagued with Kai’s laughter, his mask, his evil smile. But Sehun knows, and Sehun doesn’t expect Jongdae to spill his feelings, which is nice.
The sound of his cereal spoon scooping around in the bowl is rhythmic and oddly calming as he speaks, “Minseok’s out cold.” His cheeks puff out a little as he stares down into his bowl. “Kinda jealous that he can fall asleep that easily.”
“Hackers are a rare breed,” Jongdae chuckles a little. “They can fall asleep and wake up at will. Did you know he sleeps through his entire subway ride and still manages to get off on the right stop?”
Sehun shakes his head groggily. “I couldn’t do it.”
Jongdae shrugs a little.
“Hey…” Sehun’s foot nudges Jongdae’s underneath the table, making the older look over at him. “You haven’t really been eating. You’ve lost weight.” he nods his head towards the fridge. “You should have a meal. Like, maybe a real one that isn’t take-out or oven-ready.”
“But that takes effort,” Jongdae grouses. He’s not a chef in the first place and, especially when he’s stressed like this, he can barely think about how long it takes to make rice.
Sehun kicks his foot a little harder, glaring. “Eat something, Jongdae.”
“Ok, ok,” Jongdae stands up, rubbing his palms over his face. “Ok. Chicken and rice. Easy enough.”
“Make some veggies too,” Sehun says through a mouthful of cereal.
Jongdae spares him a narrow-eyed glance, “Don’t push it, or else I’ll shove some pickled radish down your throat.”
Sehun shudders and stands up, moving to quickly rinse his bowl and shout an “Enjoy your meal!” as he exits the kitchen. Shaking his head and smiling to himself, Jongdae sets about the rather mundane task of cooking. After about five minutes, he’s glad Sehun made the suggestion that he cook something for himself. It’s the perfect distraction, as he measures out the rice and the water to put into the rice cooker. He starts to heat up some oil in a pan and pulls out some frozen chicken breasts, running them under water to help thaw them out.
A knock on the door has the apartment going silent. Jongdae’s head whips around - no one should be visiting them. Everyone that needs to be here, is here. But it’s Sehun that gets up from the couch and answers the door and Jongdae strains his ears, unable to leave the hot stove unattended. The voice of a female infiltrates his apartment and Jongdae definitely can’t hide his curiosity now, as he lowers the heat and takes a few steps to peek through the doorway and have a look.
Woah.
He feels his throat close up a little at the gorgeous woman that’s currently standing in his foyer. She’s got long, raven black hair and the sharpest, most feline eyes he’s ever seen. Definitely foreign. She has strong features, he can tell, but right now they’re softened by some emotion as Sehun greets her and hugs her, allowing her in.
“Jongdae-” Sehun starts to call, and then blinks when he sees Jongdae is already peeking. “Hey, this is my friend Zitao. Well I mean- we go to the same cafe sometimes.”
Jongdae smiles softly. It’s not against the rules to have anyone else here, but there’s a slight twinge of anxiety in his gut at meeting someone new. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, before waving. “I gotta get back to cooking.”
She bows in greeting and then the scene disappears from Jongdae’s eyes as he returns to the stove. He can’t hear much save for the soft chatter in the living room, and when he’s finished cooking he decides to sit down at the table to eat. He’s incredibly wary of Zitao’s presence. Sehun has never mentioned Zitao before. Then again, the way he introduced her lets Jongdae know that they’re not the best of friends... So what brings Zitao to their camp out? There’s something about her, Jongdae felt it when their eyes locked, that he can’t put his finger on.
The sound of the chair across from Jongdae scraping on the floor has his gaze lifting from his food. Zitao is standing in front of him, and she looks like every Asian damsel in distress from some independent gore film. It looks like she’s dressed to go to the club, halter top beautifully accentuating her trim, fit body, her shoulders and arms wrapped snugly in a faux fur jacket. Her mini skirt disappears from view as she sits, feline eyes regarding Jongdae curiously, imploringly. Curious as well, Jongdae sits up a bit straighter, setting down his utensils and leveling his gaze with hers.
“Can you help me?” she whispers. She’s a ghost of what she used to be, Jongdae thinks. He can see the fading vibrancy and youth in the bags under her eyes, in the downturn of the corners of her mouth. She folds manicured hands on the table, but her gaze never wavers, her spine straight, shoulders square.
“What do you need help with?” Jongdae asks, as conversationally as possible. She looks like she could spook at any moment.
“My boyfriend…”
With those two words, Jongdae’s ears pick up an accent. Foreign, indeed. His head tilts and he arches a brow, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward a bit. Her voice is so soft, he doesn’t want to miss a word.
“...Was Wu Yifan.”
Jongdae feels the Earth come to a stop beneath his feet. Did he hear her correctly? He blinks a few times and then his brows knit as he leans forward a bit more, tilting his head a bit.
“I’m sorry, did you say that your boyfriend was Wu Yifan?” he asks, keeping his voice low.
She nods, her gaze still strong, a dull ember in her eyes glimmering even though her shoulders are trembling slightly. “Yes.”
A silence falls over them and Jongdae slowly sits back in his chair, using the back support heavily as his gaze drops down to his almost empty plate of food. His brain won’t kick into gear. The cogs are turning slowly, agonizingly, and he swallows thickly.
“Does Sehun know?” Jongdae’s gaze lifts back up to Zitao’s, and she shakes her head. “How did you know we were on the case?”
“It doesn’t take a detective to figure out when someone is stressed with a load they can’t handle,” Zitao says, and for a moment those dull embers in her eyes spark. “The last time I saw Sehun he was a wreck. He tried to tell me he got dumped but I know he’s been single since I’ve known him.” Her gaze drops momentarily. “Yifan and I were in a long-distance relationship.”
“Wait,” Jongdae pinches the bridge of his nose, his free hand waving idly to get Zitao to back up. “You went and collected your belongings from his apartment. What are you doing back so soon?”
Now it’s Zitao’s turn to look quizzical. “I… never left any belongings in his apartment. I’ve been in Seoul this whole time attending university.”
Jongdae stares, and then taps his finger on the table, trying to wrap his brain around the information. “The police report indicated that after the scene was cleaned up, Yifan’s girlfriend went back to the apartment to gather her stuff. It was then that she saw the dragon burned into the tile.”
“Dragon?” Zitao’s brows scrunch and she looks genuinely confused. “I- I never went back, I didn’t find out he was dead until this morning. Sehun can tell you - and my employer.” She then leans forward, “Someone said she was his girlfriend… and went to his apartment?”
“Yes,” Jongdae replies blandly. Wonderful. Now he’s sharing information with a civilian. A civilian connected to the case, and this has to be - … “Wait.” He feels dread starting to creep up the back of his throat. Zitao was Yifan’s girlfriend. Zitao knows Sehun. Sehun is connected to Jongdae, which, in a hugely roundabout way, makes Yifan connected to Jongdae. Suddenly losing his appetite, he stands up and takes his plate to the sink, motions mechanical as he starts to clean up.
“What?” Zitao is clearly lost with Jongdae’s sudden silence. “Who went to Yifan’s apartment? Mr. Kim-”
“I don’t know,” Jongdae interrupts to keep her from raising her voice too much. He finishes cleaning up and then sits back down at the table, pulling the laptop towards him and starting to type in the keywords for Yifan’s case file to look it up. Zitao sits back in her chair, arms folded across her chest as she stares blankly at the surface of the table and Jongdae can’t imagine what she’s feeling. He doesn’t even know what he, himself, is feeling. After a few moments of searching he pulls up the police report and starts scanning through it, looking for the name of the supposed ‘girlfriend’ that went to Yifan’s apartment.
Kim Kei.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jongdae growls, slamming his laptop shut and burying his face in his hands.
How diabolical is Kai going to get? Disguising himself like that, putting himself at the scene of the crime, even giving an alias to the police. Jongdae feels his dinner sitting uncomfortably in his gut, and he starts racking his brain harder than ever. Kai went all the way to Guangzhou to go through the trouble of killing Yifan, and then took it a step further by placing himself in the midst of the investigation. For what purpose?
Looking up at Zitao, Jongdae comes to the conclusion that she’s next. It’s a gut feeling more than anything, and he could be totally wrong, but he doesn’t want to risk it. She’s returning his gaze, the spark in her eyes a full-fledged blaze, lips set in a determined line and her body tense.
“Can you stay here?” Jongdae asks.
She looks unbothered by the seemingly random question. “Am I in danger?” she asks.
“Yes,” Jongdae replies as evenly as possible.
For a moment her gaze dips down to her hands, still folded on the table, a ring glinting on her left hand. She takes a steady breath and then nods her head, and Jongdae feels a slight relief.
“We will keep you safe,” he says. He’s not sure if he can keep that promise. “I’m going to brief Sehun and Minseok, and then they’re going to escort you home so you can get everything you need.”
They both stand up from the table and before they move into the living room, she catches Jongdae by the wrist. He looks into her eyes and then takes her hand in both of his, giving her the most reassuring touch he can muster.
That dread in the back of his throat feels like it’s going to choke him.
-
Jongdae gets woken up in the middle of the night by the sensation of someone standing next to his bed. When he opens his eyes his room is empty, but his brain is still a bit foggy. Surely someone had been there…? Sitting up and scooting his body so he can lean against his headboard, he runs a hand through his hair, presses the heel of his palm to his forehead. Even in sleep he’s paranoid, it seems. Snorting to himself, a glance at the clock shows it’s barely past three a.m., and he needs to get back to sleep soon so he’s not a total zombie at the office in four hours.
He starts to shift to lie down again, but the sound of his doorknob turning has him glancing over. Zitao peeks into his room and Jongdae lies propped up on an elbow, his body turned towards the door as he arches a brow.
“Zitao?” he says softly. She has taken up residence in the spare room, and Minseok and Sehun are still camped out in the living room. It’s been four days since they’ve taken Zitao into their unofficial custody, and so far Jongdae hasn’t heard a peep from Kai.
Zitao says nothing, but she takes his greeting as permission to enter the bedroom. She shuts the door behind her and she’s wearing only a t-shirt and panties, her long hair pulled up into a messy bun. Free of makeup and fashion, Zitao is still a stunning creature, and as she makes her way over to Jongdae’s bed he feels his cheeks start to heat up a bit.
“Are you ok?” he asks. Damn it, you’re thirty-four years old, Jongdae. Get your body under control.
But then Zitao is climbing onto the bed, one of her pretty hands pressing on Jongdae’s chest to get him to lie back as she straddles his hips. Exhaling slowly, for a moment he doesn’t know where to put his hands - but then he settles them, cautiously, atop her thighs. Her skin is soft as silk under his calloused fingers. Her gaze is lidded and her lips are parted as she leans down into his space, warm, minty breath ghosting over his chin and jaw, sparking goosebumps to skitter over his skin.
“Zitao…” he tries again. “What are you doing?” She’s been grieving for days over the loss of Yifan, and sulking with the knowledge that her own life is in danger. But she still doesn’t respond as her hands span across Jongdae’s bare chest, nails scraping lightly, and he clenches his jaw to try and resist making any sort of noise. Her body shifts and then all of her weight is pressing down onto his groin and ah, he didn’t know his body could still respond that quickly.
When her lips come into contact with his jaw he feels heat spread through his body. She’s soft, warm and solid and it’s been far, far too long since he’s felt any sort of intimacy. He doesn’t want to succumb to this - surely she’s not in her right mind? Sleepwalking, maybe? And he doesn’t want to take advantage of her during this difficult time. His hands slide up from her thighs over her hips, on the outside of her shirt to prevent too much skin-on-skin contact, mostly to keep himself in check.
“Zitao, we shouldn’t…” he tries.
“Make me forget,” she breathes. There’s sugar on her words, dripping like molasses down onto him, poofing into nonexistence in the darkness of the night. Now her nails scrape over his chest, over his nipples and down over his rib cage and he understands the need for comfort, the need to be with someone so physically that it’s all consuming, mind numbing.
Silently, he agrees, and his fingers catch on the hem of her shirt, helping her pull it up and off her body. She’s gorgeous, complexion pale, nipples hard and ribs shifting under her skin with the way she seems to slither atop his body. His hands map her flesh, calloused fingers and palms making her shiver and shudder and let out tiny gasps of satisfaction. Her hips shift and she starts grinding against him, the movement of her hips fluid, graceful. Their mouths connect and Jongdae feels the heat spread from his ears all the way down to his toes, his cock stirring, knees bending slightly to help Zitao’s body move atop his.
Undressing doesn’t take long. The slide of her skin on his as she pulls the covers off of him, the heat of her mouth on him, wet and slick and toe-curling - it has Jongdae’s brain short-circuiting and going blissfully blank for the first time in months. His fingers tangle in her hair, loosening it from her hair tie and watching as it falls around her like a black curtain. She swallows him down, moans like she’s hungry, and then she’s kissing up his torso, over his sternum and scraping her teeth over his collarbones. When she sinks down onto him he hugs her tight to his chest, arms strong around her as his hips piston upwards. Her noises are soft, delicate, almost kittenish as he strokes into her, his feet planted, knees bent as he makes her body jerk back and forth with the force of his movements. She puts her hands on his chest and he frees her from his embrace so she can sit up and ride him, her gaze locked on his as she works her hips in a way Jongdae has never felt before. Tipping his head back and closing his eyes he gets lost in the sensation, breathing heavily, moans falling from his lips, stars exploding behind his eyes.
His hands start to wander again, up over strong thighs, the muscles flexing with every movement. Up further, his palms slide over sharp hips, and his thumbs slide over the raised, scarred flesh on her stomach.
Wait.
When his eyes open and he looks down, his heart palpitates and fear grips him so tightly he can’t move. It’s not Zitao sitting on his cock, riding him to completion - it’s Kai. Kai with his devilish smirk, features shrouded in the darkness of the night, hair unruly and bouncing with his movements. Jongdae’s traitorous cock gives a throb and he moans involuntarily, his hands flying to grip at Kai’s hips - to push him off or keep him on his dick, Jongdae isn’t quite sure, but there Kai stays. His moans are deep, low, ragged, and Kai’s ass is exquisite, clamping down on Jongdae’s cock like it’s trying to suck the cum out of him.
“N-...” Jongdae pants out, head tipping back again. “No…”
Kai’s breath is suddenly trailing over his jaw, hands tangling in Jongdae’s hair. “Yes… Yes, mmm, Jongdae… Your cock feels so good…”
Jongdae moans again, his eyes rolling back in his head. This is a pleasure he’s never felt before. Kai’s ass is an entirely different experience than the women that Jongdae has been with. His brain can’t even catch up with the fact that he had been having sex with Zitao, first. Kai’s mere presence is distorting.
In a swift movement, Kai flips them over. Jongdae is suddenly between tan legs, Kai sprawled out under him and Jongdae’s eyes have no choice but to eat up what he’s seeing. A toned, slender body, dips and hard lines and scars smattered from collar bone to pubic bone, Kai’s cock hard and leaking. He still can’t see Kai’s face, almost like the shadows in the room are gathering on his features to keep them shrouded. Jongdae reaches up to tangle his fingers in Kai’s hair, marveling at the softness of it. Kai moans, head tipping back and Jongdae yanks on the locks, Kai whimpering as his hips jerk. Jongdae starts pumping into him at an even, slow pace, feeling each ring of muscle inside Kai’s body sucking him in. He goes balls deep and stays there, feeling his cock twitch as he buries his face into Kai’s neck, panting heavily. His hands slide down Kai’s legs to hook behind his knees and bend them up towards his chest, folding the man in half, and Jongdae pulls his torso back so he can watch his cock disappear repeatedly into the tightness of Kai’s hole. His balls slap against the flesh of Kai’s ass and Jongdae groans, biting his lip, the rush of ecstasy flowing through him astronomical. His brain is still a bit foggy, focused only on the pleasure, and with Kai writhing and whimpering beneath him, Jongdae knows he’s not going to last long.
“Cum in me,” Kai breathes out, his hands sliding up Jongdae’s arms before settling atop the detective’s shoulders. “Fill me up with your cum, baby, make me leak for days.”
The words have Jongdae’s balls tensing, ready to release. It’s happening so quick. The mix of fear and arousal surging through him is almost too much to handle and he starts pounding into Kai viciously, the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall and Jongdae doesn’t care if he wakes up the whole apartment complex at this point. Kai feels so good and he sounds so good and he looks so damn good spread under Jongdae like a pinned butterfly.
When release grips Jongdae he moans out Kai’s name, hips picking up pace before he buries himself to the hilt and stays there, filling Kai up with his load. He pumps his cock a few times, shuddering at the intense aftershocks of the most powerful orgasm he’s ever had, and feels Kai’s fingers carding through his hair almost affectionately. When the last of Jongdae’s release is squeezed from his cock he collapses…
Onto nothing.
Opening his eyes, it’s pitch black in his bedroom and he’s alone face-down on his bed. The sheets are tangled around his ankles and he’s still wearing his sleep pants, the clock blinking 03:07 at him innocently.
Rolling over to the side of his bed, he pulls over his wastebasket just in time to puke into it.
He can still hear Kai’s moans in his head.
-
Jongdae has a hard time looking at Zitao over the next few days. She’s still quiet, depressed, and hasn’t given one indication that she might have sneaked into Jongdae’s room that night. A part of Jongdae wishes she would act different. Wishes she would catch his eye, wishes she would give a glimmer of recognition that they did something that night - but there’s none. And it worries Jongdae, really, that Kai has forged his way so deep into the recesses of his consciousness that he can manifest even in his sleep. Part of him wonders if Kai is even real at all - wonders if, maybe, Kai is just a figment of his imagination.
When Jongin returns to work from his little sabbatical, he seems to be in much better spirits. Well, as good as spirits can get when the office is working overtime searching for a serial killer. His eyes aren’t as sunken in, he’s clean shaven, and his tie isn’t wrinkled. He passes by Jongdae’s desk with a small smile, one Jongdae struggles to return, and after he disappears into his office Jongdae stands up, shutting down his computer.
“Where are you going?” Sehun asks, blinking curiously as Jongdae starts to pull on his coat.
“Just need some fresh air,” Jongdae replies, sending Sehun what he hopes is a reassuring smile.
Sehun shrugs and returns to his work, and Jongdae is thankful for the man’s simplicity as he heads towards the elevator. It doesn’t take long to get outside and once he’s out there he glances around, mostly out of habit, eyes subconsciously looking for a mop of dark hair shrouding a manic smile. He sees nothing of the sort. Shoving his hands into his pockets he starts walking down the sidewalk, taking a bit longer of strides to get his quads to stretch out some.
There are children walking to school with friends, moms chatting over coffee, friends exchanging music in the record store. Everything is so blissfully… peaceful. Jongdae thinks it must be nice to be ‘the general public’. News stories are always so easy to detach from when it doesn’t happen to you. The mentality that one is safe because it isn’t related to them, or hasn’t happened to anyone they know - it’s… so dangerously delightful. As a detective Jongdae has always had a slightly suspicious air about him. Friendly and outgoing as he is, there’s always a part of his brain working overtime to assess each and every situation he encounters. From the way the old lady smiles at him at the fish market, to how a man will bump into him on the subway and not even say sorry. It’s in his nature to think about these things, so much so that he has a hard time comprehending people who don’t look into even the tiniest discrepancies.
Sighing softly, he rotates his head this way and that, groaning in satisfaction when his neck pops. It’s a habit he can’t kick that Sehun has gotten on his case about multiple times; ‘You’re going to give yourself arthritis!’. Untrue, and even Sehun knows that, but the brat just likes to get on Jongdae’s back whenever he can, since Jongdae is usually on his.
“That was quite the firework show. Sounds like you need to go see a chiropractor.”
An arm loops through Jongdae’s and he stiffens, that melodious voice floating over him like hot lava.
“Hello, Kai.” he greets flatly without looking at the other.
Kai seems ecstatic with the greeting, hugging Jongdae’s arm close to his side. “Hello~! Did you miss me?”
“Not particularly,” Jongdae says. Kai’s touch is burning him. All he can think about is how Kai looked underneath him that night…
“I missed you,” Kai pouts. “I’ve been very busy.”
Jongdae arches a brow. “With what? You haven’t killed in two weeks.”
“I know!” Kai grins. When Jongdae glances over, he sees those giant sunglasses resting on his nose again. “Everything has to be juuuust right. It’s almost done~”
“What’s almost done?” Jongdae asks. It feels like he’s getting heartburn.
“The gathering!” Kai rattles off like an excited kindergartner. “Just four left and then the tree will be alive again.”
“Four kills?” Jongdae tries to pull his arm free from Kai’s grip. It doesn't work.
“Four sacrifices,” Kai unhelpfully corrects. His pace slows and because they're attached, Jongdae stops with him in front of a bakery. “Do you think they have cheese danishes?” Kai suddenly asks, peering into the display case.
Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Go in and ask.” This time when he tugs his arm away it works, and he blinks. Kai is gone. Looking around, Jongdae sees no trace of him - and then suddenly Kai is hugging him from behind, holding up a cheese danish to Jongdae’s mouth.
“They have them!”
“Jesus-” Jongdae can't keep up with Kai at all. He pulls away, not a fan of sweets. As the taller munches away on his danish Jongdae wriggles free, starting to walk again. “Great, now why don't you go get some coffee to go with that? Somewhere else. Away from me.”
“I don't like coffee,” Kai pouts, repeating words he's said to Jongdae before. Jongdae just rolls his eyes. “I must say...” Kai is still keeping pace with the detective, “I appreciate all the work you've been doing~”
Jongdae resists the urge to grumble under his breath. “What work is that?”
“Being on my side, of course~”
Jongdae stops walking, and Kai bumps into him. He turns around to make eye contact, as best he can with those giant sunglasses, glaring so hard he'll be surprised if Kai doesn't catch fire within thirty seconds. “Excuse you?”
Kai merely grins down at him. “You heard me. You haven't cuffed me, caught me, beaten me. You've had so many opportunities.”
Acid bubbles in Jongdae’s throat, fists clenching at his sides. Kai is completely right. In all the times they've been together, thoughts of justice have crossed Jongdae’s mind, but he hasn't acted on any of them. Why?
Why?
“Why, indeed,” Kai whispers, and then he hands Jongdae his half-eaten danish. “You've been helping me since the very beginning. When the storm comes, people find shelter.”
Jongdae blinks, and Kai is gone. He's left holding the danish and he stares down at it in his hand, people walking around him like a person didn't just disappear into mid-air. His fingers tremble, and he throws the danish into a garbage can before stalking back into the direction of the office.
He's going to get to the fucking bottom of this.
-
The rise in Kai’s activity in relation to Jongin’s return to the office is something that Jongdae tries to ignore. Surely it’s coincidence, right? Kai knowing that they’re suspicious of Jongin and just toying with them, making them think that they have a reason to be wary of the chief. At least, that’s what Jongdae is doing his best to think, to - dare he - hope. But since Jongin has come back, Kai is constantly a shadow over Jongdae’s shoulder, taunting him, spooking him.
Zitao rarely leaves the apartment and when she does, she always has company of Jongdae, Sehun, or Minseok. She never seems too thrilled, independent as she is, but they all know she’s secretly grateful for the effort they’re putting in to protecting her. She cooks dinner, she cleans up their messes when they pass out after poring over documents for hours, and Jongdae is still doing whatever he can to make sure he doesn’t think about… that night, for her sake. He can’t imagine how she’d feel if she knew one of her saviors had a wet dream about her. And it wasn’t even that, really, since dream-Zitao morphed into dream-Kai…
“You ok?”
Minseok’s question brings Jongdae out of his thoughts. They’re both on the couch, Sehun having taken Zitao out to the grocery store so she can make them her favorite dish. Minseok and Jongdae had stayed behind - Minseok has his laptop on his stomach, his body spread out on the couch, fingers poised above the keyboard as he peers at Jongdae over the screen. From the opposite corner of the cushions Jongdae rubs a hand over his face, sighing softly.
“Are any of us ok?” he asks rhetorically.
Minseok shifts, setting his laptop down on top of a few messy folders on the coffee table. He sits up with his legs criss-crossed, elbows on his knees and chin resting on top of his laced fingers, giving Jongdae the visual go-ahead to speak his mind.
For a solid minute, Jongdae doesn’t reply. He still hasn’t told Sehun or Minseok that Kai communicates with him exclusively. He hasn’t told them that he’s had so many opportunities to bag the psycho; that, every time Kai slips out of his fingers, deep down, he knows that Kai doesn’t ‘manage to get away’... Jongdae lets him go, every time.
“C’mon man,” Minseok softly encourages.
“I've been communicating with Kai,” Jongdae finally says. His throat feels tight. A weight lifts off his shoulders as soon as the words leave his lips, and while he feels relief, there's also trepidation squiggling around at the base of his neck.
“You… what?” Minseok’s brows scrunch and he tilts his head, like he hadn't heard Jongdae correctly.
“Kai talks to me. He- he finds me when I'm alone.”
“Shit, man,” Minseok looks tense, and then runs fingers through his hair after a moment of silence. “Ok- ok. So you haven't told us because…”
“Because he's not in custody.” Jongdae gives a helpless shrug of his shoulders. “Because people are dead and Zitao is in danger… because I'm a fucking sorry excuse for a cop.” he loses his wind quickly, slouching back into the couch and covering his face. He's awful. The scum of the Earth, right? He lets his hands drop to his lap and stares listlessly at the coffee table, still acutely aware of Minseok’s gaze burning into him.
“Does Jongin know?” Minseok finally asks.
Jongdae nods his head.
Minseok sighs and then suddenly Jongdae feels a warm, reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Hey man, it's ok. I understand why you wouldn't tell us. For our safety, right?” Jongdae nods again, still not meeting Minseok’s gaze. “And Jongin knows, and that's the most important thing.”
Jongdae finally looks over at Minseok, who is leaning into his space. “You're not mad?”
Minseok shakes his head and sits back when their noses almost bump. He doesn’t look embarrassed, but Jongdae sees a flash of Kai in the back of his mind’s eye, gets that ghost sensation on his lips. “It's a delicate situation, Dae.”
Minseok leaves it at that and Jongdae is profoundly relieved. He shakes thoughts of Kai away. The tension in his body floats away and he smiles a bit ruefully at his fear of his best friends, his colleagues, misunderstanding him. He'll tell Sehun, too, and knows that he might pull the ‘butthurt’ card that Jongdae didn't confide in him, but he also will be understanding.
Jongdae just hopes he's not making a mistake in telling them. In reality he knows everyone’s safety is compromised… But he also is definitely sure that he’s going to do his best to protect them.
-
When Jongdae discovers Zitao’s lifeless, cold body on the floor of his bathroom, he blacks out. One moment he’s pressing his fingers to her neck to try and find a pulse, and in the next moment he’s sitting on the back of an ambulance truck with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, EMT’s and first responders processing the scene. He stares, dazedly, not quite comprehending the situation. Zitao… In death, like Kyungsoon, she was still beautiful. And in death, like Kyungsoon, she was another piece of the puzzle. Jongdae knows that Kai got to her somehow, even though there weren’t any visible signs of assault. An empty prescription pill bottle was found in her travel bag but Jongdae knows, he knows she would never kill herself. She had been so strong, for all of them - for Yifan, too. Fearless, brave…
She’s gone.
A slap to Jongdae’s face brings him back to reality, Jongin’s features coming into focus, soul crushing reality weighing heavily in the pit of Jongdae’s gut.
“You wanna tell me why there’s a dead girl on your bathroom floor?” the Chief asks, and his voice is rough around the edges in a way that is slightly alarming to Jongdae.
“I-”
“You were housing a potential victim and you couldn’t tell me?” Jongin barrels on. “Minseok and Sehun have been camping out- Christ, Jongdae, what are you thinking?”
Jongdae’s lips are dry, his throat parched. “We were-”
“Stop.” Jongin holds up a hand to physically halt Jongdae’s words. He pinches the bridge of his nose, runs a hand through his dark hair, and looks like a fresh cadet all over again.
Why is Jongdae’s heart squeezing like this?
“You brought people onto the case that I didn’t assign,” Jongin starts, lifting up a finger. “You housed a potential victim - a victim - without my knowledge, when she should have been in protective custody.” Another finger lifts. “Another person is dead.” A final, third finger, and Jongin looks the most angry Jongdae has ever seen him. His brows are furrowed, his jaw tensed, gaze narrow as he looks at Jongdae. It’s obvious he’s holding back from really yelling, from really scolding and reprimanding Jongdae at this moment, and Jongdae feels like utter garbage.
Drawing the blanket tighter around himself, Jongdae isn’t trying for a pity party but he knows he looks pathetic. Jongin lets out a defeated sigh after a few tense seconds, then moves to sit next to Jongdae on the bumper. Their thighs are touching and Jongdae feels that strange burning sensation, the one he associates with Kai’s touch, weaving through the barriers of clothes and blanket between them. He subtly tries to shift away, but it’s fairly cold out and Jongin only instinctively follows his body heat.
“Ok.” Jongin finally says, after five minutes of silence and flashing lights. “Ok. What can you tell me?”
“I don’t know,” Jongdae admits. His voice is hoarse. He needs water.
“Ok…” Jongin rubs his palms over his knees. “The manner of death has been ruled as a suicide.”
“That’s wrong,” Jongdae replies with less fire than he’d hoped.
“I know. We all know,” Jongin starts drumming his fingers idly. “But things have shifted. Yifan died from burns in his esophagus, which we all know is next to impossible. And now Zitao has overdosed… on birth control.”
Jongdae’s brow furrows. “Birth control?”
“That’s what her prescription was for. The only prescription drug she’s ever taken. And you don’t have any in the house, either.” Jongin’s voice has a slightly proud tone to it, when he says Jongdae is clean.
“You can’t die from birth control,” Jongdae says. “How can the coroner even accept that?”
“They’re going to do more tox screens,” the Chief shrugs. “But for now, that’s the only preliminary cause of death we can decipher.”
And it’s absolutely nothing to go on.
“Chief!”
One of the detectives comes jogging up towards the back of the ambulance, looking slightly out of breath. He holds something out, an item in a baggy, and Jongin takes it from him.
“We found it in her purse, sir.”
“Thank you,” Jongin says, dismissing the detective. Once they’re alone again, Jongin brings the bag up so Jongdae can see the item as well.
“A watch?” Jongdae squints. “Zitao didn’t wear a watch.” His gaze starts to unfocus slightly.
Jongin flips the bag over, reading an engraving on the back. He lets out a slow sigh, and then hands the bag over to Jongdae, standing while he speaks. “This watch was meant for you.”
Jongin starts to walk away, shoulders slumped, looking defeated. Jongdae shifts so the light can hit the back of the watch and he feels dread fill his chest at the four words scratched messily into the metal, his lungs suddenly starting to feel like they can’t function properly.
”Time is almost up.”
[ Next]
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[ Previously...]
Jongdae still can’t figure out what the connection is, between him and Yifan. He looked up the Chinese man’s social media, stalked his finances, even found his school yearbooks online. They have not crossed paths even once. Kai didn’t give any useful information on their connection, either, but- then again… Jongdae didn’t even ask.
It’s another Saturday night at Jongdae’s apartment, Sehun and Minseok lounging on the couch and taking a break from the headache-inducing glare of the computer screens. Jongdae is leaning against the counter in his kitchen, arms folded across his chest as he stares at the backsplash behind his oven. He tries to imagine what it would take to burn something into the tile. Something really hot, no doubt. But that charred of a mark means that whatever had burned there, had burned for a while. Right? Because those lines were crisp, the edges neat and it was blacker than black and Jongdae can’t think of a single thing that could do that. His first instinct was to see if it was a sticker, some prank, but when CSI went back and scraped at it, nothing but burnt flecks fluttered down and dirtied the stove.
“Jongdae…”
Sehun’s soft voice brings Jongdae back to reality. The younger officer is entering the kitchen and rubbing his eyes, looking all sorts of sleepy as he fumbles to open the fridge.
“Hey,” Jongdae greets, smiling. He steps forward, “What are you after? I’ll grab it for you.”
“Cereal,” Sehun yawns, and then, like the spoiled brat he is, sits down at the kitchen table to allow Jongdae to fix him up a bowl. “Aren’t you even tired?”
“Exhausted,” Jongdae replies, setting the bowl down in front of Sehun and then sitting heavily across from him. “But every time I sleep…” He trails off. He won’t say out loud that he’s been having nightmares, dreams plagued with Kai’s laughter, his mask, his evil smile. But Sehun knows, and Sehun doesn’t expect Jongdae to spill his feelings, which is nice.
The sound of his cereal spoon scooping around in the bowl is rhythmic and oddly calming as he speaks, “Minseok’s out cold.” His cheeks puff out a little as he stares down into his bowl. “Kinda jealous that he can fall asleep that easily.”
“Hackers are a rare breed,” Jongdae chuckles a little. “They can fall asleep and wake up at will. Did you know he sleeps through his entire subway ride and still manages to get off on the right stop?”
Sehun shakes his head groggily. “I couldn’t do it.”
Jongdae shrugs a little.
“Hey…” Sehun’s foot nudges Jongdae’s underneath the table, making the older look over at him. “You haven’t really been eating. You’ve lost weight.” he nods his head towards the fridge. “You should have a meal. Like, maybe a real one that isn’t take-out or oven-ready.”
“But that takes effort,” Jongdae grouses. He’s not a chef in the first place and, especially when he’s stressed like this, he can barely think about how long it takes to make rice.
Sehun kicks his foot a little harder, glaring. “Eat something, Jongdae.”
“Ok, ok,” Jongdae stands up, rubbing his palms over his face. “Ok. Chicken and rice. Easy enough.”
“Make some veggies too,” Sehun says through a mouthful of cereal.
Jongdae spares him a narrow-eyed glance, “Don’t push it, or else I’ll shove some pickled radish down your throat.”
Sehun shudders and stands up, moving to quickly rinse his bowl and shout an “Enjoy your meal!” as he exits the kitchen. Shaking his head and smiling to himself, Jongdae sets about the rather mundane task of cooking. After about five minutes, he’s glad Sehun made the suggestion that he cook something for himself. It’s the perfect distraction, as he measures out the rice and the water to put into the rice cooker. He starts to heat up some oil in a pan and pulls out some frozen chicken breasts, running them under water to help thaw them out.
A knock on the door has the apartment going silent. Jongdae’s head whips around - no one should be visiting them. Everyone that needs to be here, is here. But it’s Sehun that gets up from the couch and answers the door and Jongdae strains his ears, unable to leave the hot stove unattended. The voice of a female infiltrates his apartment and Jongdae definitely can’t hide his curiosity now, as he lowers the heat and takes a few steps to peek through the doorway and have a look.
Woah.
He feels his throat close up a little at the gorgeous woman that’s currently standing in his foyer. She’s got long, raven black hair and the sharpest, most feline eyes he’s ever seen. Definitely foreign. She has strong features, he can tell, but right now they’re softened by some emotion as Sehun greets her and hugs her, allowing her in.
“Jongdae-” Sehun starts to call, and then blinks when he sees Jongdae is already peeking. “Hey, this is my friend Zitao. Well I mean- we go to the same cafe sometimes.”
Jongdae smiles softly. It’s not against the rules to have anyone else here, but there’s a slight twinge of anxiety in his gut at meeting someone new. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, before waving. “I gotta get back to cooking.”
She bows in greeting and then the scene disappears from Jongdae’s eyes as he returns to the stove. He can’t hear much save for the soft chatter in the living room, and when he’s finished cooking he decides to sit down at the table to eat. He’s incredibly wary of Zitao’s presence. Sehun has never mentioned Zitao before. Then again, the way he introduced her lets Jongdae know that they’re not the best of friends... So what brings Zitao to their camp out? There’s something about her, Jongdae felt it when their eyes locked, that he can’t put his finger on.
The sound of the chair across from Jongdae scraping on the floor has his gaze lifting from his food. Zitao is standing in front of him, and she looks like every Asian damsel in distress from some independent gore film. It looks like she’s dressed to go to the club, halter top beautifully accentuating her trim, fit body, her shoulders and arms wrapped snugly in a faux fur jacket. Her mini skirt disappears from view as she sits, feline eyes regarding Jongdae curiously, imploringly. Curious as well, Jongdae sits up a bit straighter, setting down his utensils and leveling his gaze with hers.
“Can you help me?” she whispers. She’s a ghost of what she used to be, Jongdae thinks. He can see the fading vibrancy and youth in the bags under her eyes, in the downturn of the corners of her mouth. She folds manicured hands on the table, but her gaze never wavers, her spine straight, shoulders square.
“What do you need help with?” Jongdae asks, as conversationally as possible. She looks like she could spook at any moment.
“My boyfriend…”
With those two words, Jongdae’s ears pick up an accent. Foreign, indeed. His head tilts and he arches a brow, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward a bit. Her voice is so soft, he doesn’t want to miss a word.
“...Was Wu Yifan.”
Jongdae feels the Earth come to a stop beneath his feet. Did he hear her correctly? He blinks a few times and then his brows knit as he leans forward a bit more, tilting his head a bit.
“I’m sorry, did you say that your boyfriend was Wu Yifan?” he asks, keeping his voice low.
She nods, her gaze still strong, a dull ember in her eyes glimmering even though her shoulders are trembling slightly. “Yes.”
A silence falls over them and Jongdae slowly sits back in his chair, using the back support heavily as his gaze drops down to his almost empty plate of food. His brain won’t kick into gear. The cogs are turning slowly, agonizingly, and he swallows thickly.
“Does Sehun know?” Jongdae’s gaze lifts back up to Zitao’s, and she shakes her head. “How did you know we were on the case?”
“It doesn’t take a detective to figure out when someone is stressed with a load they can’t handle,” Zitao says, and for a moment those dull embers in her eyes spark. “The last time I saw Sehun he was a wreck. He tried to tell me he got dumped but I know he’s been single since I’ve known him.” Her gaze drops momentarily. “Yifan and I were in a long-distance relationship.”
“Wait,” Jongdae pinches the bridge of his nose, his free hand waving idly to get Zitao to back up. “You went and collected your belongings from his apartment. What are you doing back so soon?”
Now it’s Zitao’s turn to look quizzical. “I… never left any belongings in his apartment. I’ve been in Seoul this whole time attending university.”
Jongdae stares, and then taps his finger on the table, trying to wrap his brain around the information. “The police report indicated that after the scene was cleaned up, Yifan’s girlfriend went back to the apartment to gather her stuff. It was then that she saw the dragon burned into the tile.”
“Dragon?” Zitao’s brows scrunch and she looks genuinely confused. “I- I never went back, I didn’t find out he was dead until this morning. Sehun can tell you - and my employer.” She then leans forward, “Someone said she was his girlfriend… and went to his apartment?”
“Yes,” Jongdae replies blandly. Wonderful. Now he’s sharing information with a civilian. A civilian connected to the case, and this has to be - … “Wait.” He feels dread starting to creep up the back of his throat. Zitao was Yifan’s girlfriend. Zitao knows Sehun. Sehun is connected to Jongdae, which, in a hugely roundabout way, makes Yifan connected to Jongdae. Suddenly losing his appetite, he stands up and takes his plate to the sink, motions mechanical as he starts to clean up.
“What?” Zitao is clearly lost with Jongdae’s sudden silence. “Who went to Yifan’s apartment? Mr. Kim-”
“I don’t know,” Jongdae interrupts to keep her from raising her voice too much. He finishes cleaning up and then sits back down at the table, pulling the laptop towards him and starting to type in the keywords for Yifan’s case file to look it up. Zitao sits back in her chair, arms folded across her chest as she stares blankly at the surface of the table and Jongdae can’t imagine what she’s feeling. He doesn’t even know what he, himself, is feeling. After a few moments of searching he pulls up the police report and starts scanning through it, looking for the name of the supposed ‘girlfriend’ that went to Yifan’s apartment.
Kim Kei.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jongdae growls, slamming his laptop shut and burying his face in his hands.
How diabolical is Kai going to get? Disguising himself like that, putting himself at the scene of the crime, even giving an alias to the police. Jongdae feels his dinner sitting uncomfortably in his gut, and he starts racking his brain harder than ever. Kai went all the way to Guangzhou to go through the trouble of killing Yifan, and then took it a step further by placing himself in the midst of the investigation. For what purpose?
Looking up at Zitao, Jongdae comes to the conclusion that she’s next. It’s a gut feeling more than anything, and he could be totally wrong, but he doesn’t want to risk it. She’s returning his gaze, the spark in her eyes a full-fledged blaze, lips set in a determined line and her body tense.
“Can you stay here?” Jongdae asks.
She looks unbothered by the seemingly random question. “Am I in danger?” she asks.
“Yes,” Jongdae replies as evenly as possible.
For a moment her gaze dips down to her hands, still folded on the table, a ring glinting on her left hand. She takes a steady breath and then nods her head, and Jongdae feels a slight relief.
“We will keep you safe,” he says. He’s not sure if he can keep that promise. “I’m going to brief Sehun and Minseok, and then they’re going to escort you home so you can get everything you need.”
They both stand up from the table and before they move into the living room, she catches Jongdae by the wrist. He looks into her eyes and then takes her hand in both of his, giving her the most reassuring touch he can muster.
That dread in the back of his throat feels like it’s going to choke him.
-
Jongdae gets woken up in the middle of the night by the sensation of someone standing next to his bed. When he opens his eyes his room is empty, but his brain is still a bit foggy. Surely someone had been there…? Sitting up and scooting his body so he can lean against his headboard, he runs a hand through his hair, presses the heel of his palm to his forehead. Even in sleep he’s paranoid, it seems. Snorting to himself, a glance at the clock shows it’s barely past three a.m., and he needs to get back to sleep soon so he’s not a total zombie at the office in four hours.
He starts to shift to lie down again, but the sound of his doorknob turning has him glancing over. Zitao peeks into his room and Jongdae lies propped up on an elbow, his body turned towards the door as he arches a brow.
“Zitao?” he says softly. She has taken up residence in the spare room, and Minseok and Sehun are still camped out in the living room. It’s been four days since they’ve taken Zitao into their unofficial custody, and so far Jongdae hasn’t heard a peep from Kai.
Zitao says nothing, but she takes his greeting as permission to enter the bedroom. She shuts the door behind her and she’s wearing only a t-shirt and panties, her long hair pulled up into a messy bun. Free of makeup and fashion, Zitao is still a stunning creature, and as she makes her way over to Jongdae’s bed he feels his cheeks start to heat up a bit.
“Are you ok?” he asks. Damn it, you’re thirty-four years old, Jongdae. Get your body under control.
But then Zitao is climbing onto the bed, one of her pretty hands pressing on Jongdae’s chest to get him to lie back as she straddles his hips. Exhaling slowly, for a moment he doesn’t know where to put his hands - but then he settles them, cautiously, atop her thighs. Her skin is soft as silk under his calloused fingers. Her gaze is lidded and her lips are parted as she leans down into his space, warm, minty breath ghosting over his chin and jaw, sparking goosebumps to skitter over his skin.
“Zitao…” he tries again. “What are you doing?” She’s been grieving for days over the loss of Yifan, and sulking with the knowledge that her own life is in danger. But she still doesn’t respond as her hands span across Jongdae’s bare chest, nails scraping lightly, and he clenches his jaw to try and resist making any sort of noise. Her body shifts and then all of her weight is pressing down onto his groin and ah, he didn’t know his body could still respond that quickly.
When her lips come into contact with his jaw he feels heat spread through his body. She’s soft, warm and solid and it’s been far, far too long since he’s felt any sort of intimacy. He doesn’t want to succumb to this - surely she’s not in her right mind? Sleepwalking, maybe? And he doesn’t want to take advantage of her during this difficult time. His hands slide up from her thighs over her hips, on the outside of her shirt to prevent too much skin-on-skin contact, mostly to keep himself in check.
“Zitao, we shouldn’t…” he tries.
“Make me forget,” she breathes. There’s sugar on her words, dripping like molasses down onto him, poofing into nonexistence in the darkness of the night. Now her nails scrape over his chest, over his nipples and down over his rib cage and he understands the need for comfort, the need to be with someone so physically that it’s all consuming, mind numbing.
Silently, he agrees, and his fingers catch on the hem of her shirt, helping her pull it up and off her body. She’s gorgeous, complexion pale, nipples hard and ribs shifting under her skin with the way she seems to slither atop his body. His hands map her flesh, calloused fingers and palms making her shiver and shudder and let out tiny gasps of satisfaction. Her hips shift and she starts grinding against him, the movement of her hips fluid, graceful. Their mouths connect and Jongdae feels the heat spread from his ears all the way down to his toes, his cock stirring, knees bending slightly to help Zitao’s body move atop his.
Undressing doesn’t take long. The slide of her skin on his as she pulls the covers off of him, the heat of her mouth on him, wet and slick and toe-curling - it has Jongdae’s brain short-circuiting and going blissfully blank for the first time in months. His fingers tangle in her hair, loosening it from her hair tie and watching as it falls around her like a black curtain. She swallows him down, moans like she’s hungry, and then she’s kissing up his torso, over his sternum and scraping her teeth over his collarbones. When she sinks down onto him he hugs her tight to his chest, arms strong around her as his hips piston upwards. Her noises are soft, delicate, almost kittenish as he strokes into her, his feet planted, knees bent as he makes her body jerk back and forth with the force of his movements. She puts her hands on his chest and he frees her from his embrace so she can sit up and ride him, her gaze locked on his as she works her hips in a way Jongdae has never felt before. Tipping his head back and closing his eyes he gets lost in the sensation, breathing heavily, moans falling from his lips, stars exploding behind his eyes.
His hands start to wander again, up over strong thighs, the muscles flexing with every movement. Up further, his palms slide over sharp hips, and his thumbs slide over the raised, scarred flesh on her stomach.
Wait.
When his eyes open and he looks down, his heart palpitates and fear grips him so tightly he can’t move. It’s not Zitao sitting on his cock, riding him to completion - it’s Kai. Kai with his devilish smirk, features shrouded in the darkness of the night, hair unruly and bouncing with his movements. Jongdae’s traitorous cock gives a throb and he moans involuntarily, his hands flying to grip at Kai’s hips - to push him off or keep him on his dick, Jongdae isn’t quite sure, but there Kai stays. His moans are deep, low, ragged, and Kai’s ass is exquisite, clamping down on Jongdae’s cock like it’s trying to suck the cum out of him.
“N-...” Jongdae pants out, head tipping back again. “No…”
Kai’s breath is suddenly trailing over his jaw, hands tangling in Jongdae’s hair. “Yes… Yes, mmm, Jongdae… Your cock feels so good…”
Jongdae moans again, his eyes rolling back in his head. This is a pleasure he’s never felt before. Kai’s ass is an entirely different experience than the women that Jongdae has been with. His brain can’t even catch up with the fact that he had been having sex with Zitao, first. Kai’s mere presence is distorting.
In a swift movement, Kai flips them over. Jongdae is suddenly between tan legs, Kai sprawled out under him and Jongdae’s eyes have no choice but to eat up what he’s seeing. A toned, slender body, dips and hard lines and scars smattered from collar bone to pubic bone, Kai’s cock hard and leaking. He still can’t see Kai’s face, almost like the shadows in the room are gathering on his features to keep them shrouded. Jongdae reaches up to tangle his fingers in Kai’s hair, marveling at the softness of it. Kai moans, head tipping back and Jongdae yanks on the locks, Kai whimpering as his hips jerk. Jongdae starts pumping into him at an even, slow pace, feeling each ring of muscle inside Kai’s body sucking him in. He goes balls deep and stays there, feeling his cock twitch as he buries his face into Kai’s neck, panting heavily. His hands slide down Kai’s legs to hook behind his knees and bend them up towards his chest, folding the man in half, and Jongdae pulls his torso back so he can watch his cock disappear repeatedly into the tightness of Kai’s hole. His balls slap against the flesh of Kai’s ass and Jongdae groans, biting his lip, the rush of ecstasy flowing through him astronomical. His brain is still a bit foggy, focused only on the pleasure, and with Kai writhing and whimpering beneath him, Jongdae knows he’s not going to last long.
“Cum in me,” Kai breathes out, his hands sliding up Jongdae’s arms before settling atop the detective’s shoulders. “Fill me up with your cum, baby, make me leak for days.”
The words have Jongdae’s balls tensing, ready to release. It’s happening so quick. The mix of fear and arousal surging through him is almost too much to handle and he starts pounding into Kai viciously, the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall and Jongdae doesn’t care if he wakes up the whole apartment complex at this point. Kai feels so good and he sounds so good and he looks so damn good spread under Jongdae like a pinned butterfly.
When release grips Jongdae he moans out Kai’s name, hips picking up pace before he buries himself to the hilt and stays there, filling Kai up with his load. He pumps his cock a few times, shuddering at the intense aftershocks of the most powerful orgasm he’s ever had, and feels Kai’s fingers carding through his hair almost affectionately. When the last of Jongdae’s release is squeezed from his cock he collapses…
Onto nothing.
Opening his eyes, it’s pitch black in his bedroom and he’s alone face-down on his bed. The sheets are tangled around his ankles and he’s still wearing his sleep pants, the clock blinking 03:07 at him innocently.
Rolling over to the side of his bed, he pulls over his wastebasket just in time to puke into it.
He can still hear Kai’s moans in his head.
-
Jongdae has a hard time looking at Zitao over the next few days. She’s still quiet, depressed, and hasn’t given one indication that she might have sneaked into Jongdae’s room that night. A part of Jongdae wishes she would act different. Wishes she would catch his eye, wishes she would give a glimmer of recognition that they did something that night - but there’s none. And it worries Jongdae, really, that Kai has forged his way so deep into the recesses of his consciousness that he can manifest even in his sleep. Part of him wonders if Kai is even real at all - wonders if, maybe, Kai is just a figment of his imagination.
When Jongin returns to work from his little sabbatical, he seems to be in much better spirits. Well, as good as spirits can get when the office is working overtime searching for a serial killer. His eyes aren’t as sunken in, he’s clean shaven, and his tie isn’t wrinkled. He passes by Jongdae’s desk with a small smile, one Jongdae struggles to return, and after he disappears into his office Jongdae stands up, shutting down his computer.
“Where are you going?” Sehun asks, blinking curiously as Jongdae starts to pull on his coat.
“Just need some fresh air,” Jongdae replies, sending Sehun what he hopes is a reassuring smile.
Sehun shrugs and returns to his work, and Jongdae is thankful for the man’s simplicity as he heads towards the elevator. It doesn’t take long to get outside and once he’s out there he glances around, mostly out of habit, eyes subconsciously looking for a mop of dark hair shrouding a manic smile. He sees nothing of the sort. Shoving his hands into his pockets he starts walking down the sidewalk, taking a bit longer of strides to get his quads to stretch out some.
There are children walking to school with friends, moms chatting over coffee, friends exchanging music in the record store. Everything is so blissfully… peaceful. Jongdae thinks it must be nice to be ‘the general public’. News stories are always so easy to detach from when it doesn’t happen to you. The mentality that one is safe because it isn’t related to them, or hasn’t happened to anyone they know - it’s… so dangerously delightful. As a detective Jongdae has always had a slightly suspicious air about him. Friendly and outgoing as he is, there’s always a part of his brain working overtime to assess each and every situation he encounters. From the way the old lady smiles at him at the fish market, to how a man will bump into him on the subway and not even say sorry. It’s in his nature to think about these things, so much so that he has a hard time comprehending people who don’t look into even the tiniest discrepancies.
Sighing softly, he rotates his head this way and that, groaning in satisfaction when his neck pops. It’s a habit he can’t kick that Sehun has gotten on his case about multiple times; ‘You’re going to give yourself arthritis!’. Untrue, and even Sehun knows that, but the brat just likes to get on Jongdae’s back whenever he can, since Jongdae is usually on his.
“That was quite the firework show. Sounds like you need to go see a chiropractor.”
An arm loops through Jongdae’s and he stiffens, that melodious voice floating over him like hot lava.
“Hello, Kai.” he greets flatly without looking at the other.
Kai seems ecstatic with the greeting, hugging Jongdae’s arm close to his side. “Hello~! Did you miss me?”
“Not particularly,” Jongdae says. Kai’s touch is burning him. All he can think about is how Kai looked underneath him that night…
“I missed you,” Kai pouts. “I’ve been very busy.”
Jongdae arches a brow. “With what? You haven’t killed in two weeks.”
“I know!” Kai grins. When Jongdae glances over, he sees those giant sunglasses resting on his nose again. “Everything has to be juuuust right. It’s almost done~”
“What’s almost done?” Jongdae asks. It feels like he’s getting heartburn.
“The gathering!” Kai rattles off like an excited kindergartner. “Just four left and then the tree will be alive again.”
“Four kills?” Jongdae tries to pull his arm free from Kai’s grip. It doesn't work.
“Four sacrifices,” Kai unhelpfully corrects. His pace slows and because they're attached, Jongdae stops with him in front of a bakery. “Do you think they have cheese danishes?” Kai suddenly asks, peering into the display case.
Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Go in and ask.” This time when he tugs his arm away it works, and he blinks. Kai is gone. Looking around, Jongdae sees no trace of him - and then suddenly Kai is hugging him from behind, holding up a cheese danish to Jongdae’s mouth.
“They have them!”
“Jesus-” Jongdae can't keep up with Kai at all. He pulls away, not a fan of sweets. As the taller munches away on his danish Jongdae wriggles free, starting to walk again. “Great, now why don't you go get some coffee to go with that? Somewhere else. Away from me.”
“I don't like coffee,” Kai pouts, repeating words he's said to Jongdae before. Jongdae just rolls his eyes. “I must say...” Kai is still keeping pace with the detective, “I appreciate all the work you've been doing~”
Jongdae resists the urge to grumble under his breath. “What work is that?”
“Being on my side, of course~”
Jongdae stops walking, and Kai bumps into him. He turns around to make eye contact, as best he can with those giant sunglasses, glaring so hard he'll be surprised if Kai doesn't catch fire within thirty seconds. “Excuse you?”
Kai merely grins down at him. “You heard me. You haven't cuffed me, caught me, beaten me. You've had so many opportunities.”
Acid bubbles in Jongdae’s throat, fists clenching at his sides. Kai is completely right. In all the times they've been together, thoughts of justice have crossed Jongdae’s mind, but he hasn't acted on any of them. Why?
Why?
“Why, indeed,” Kai whispers, and then he hands Jongdae his half-eaten danish. “You've been helping me since the very beginning. When the storm comes, people find shelter.”
Jongdae blinks, and Kai is gone. He's left holding the danish and he stares down at it in his hand, people walking around him like a person didn't just disappear into mid-air. His fingers tremble, and he throws the danish into a garbage can before stalking back into the direction of the office.
He's going to get to the fucking bottom of this.
-
The rise in Kai’s activity in relation to Jongin’s return to the office is something that Jongdae tries to ignore. Surely it’s coincidence, right? Kai knowing that they’re suspicious of Jongin and just toying with them, making them think that they have a reason to be wary of the chief. At least, that’s what Jongdae is doing his best to think, to - dare he - hope. But since Jongin has come back, Kai is constantly a shadow over Jongdae’s shoulder, taunting him, spooking him.
Zitao rarely leaves the apartment and when she does, she always has company of Jongdae, Sehun, or Minseok. She never seems too thrilled, independent as she is, but they all know she’s secretly grateful for the effort they’re putting in to protecting her. She cooks dinner, she cleans up their messes when they pass out after poring over documents for hours, and Jongdae is still doing whatever he can to make sure he doesn’t think about… that night, for her sake. He can’t imagine how she’d feel if she knew one of her saviors had a wet dream about her. And it wasn’t even that, really, since dream-Zitao morphed into dream-Kai…
“You ok?”
Minseok’s question brings Jongdae out of his thoughts. They’re both on the couch, Sehun having taken Zitao out to the grocery store so she can make them her favorite dish. Minseok and Jongdae had stayed behind - Minseok has his laptop on his stomach, his body spread out on the couch, fingers poised above the keyboard as he peers at Jongdae over the screen. From the opposite corner of the cushions Jongdae rubs a hand over his face, sighing softly.
“Are any of us ok?” he asks rhetorically.
Minseok shifts, setting his laptop down on top of a few messy folders on the coffee table. He sits up with his legs criss-crossed, elbows on his knees and chin resting on top of his laced fingers, giving Jongdae the visual go-ahead to speak his mind.
For a solid minute, Jongdae doesn’t reply. He still hasn’t told Sehun or Minseok that Kai communicates with him exclusively. He hasn’t told them that he’s had so many opportunities to bag the psycho; that, every time Kai slips out of his fingers, deep down, he knows that Kai doesn’t ‘manage to get away’... Jongdae lets him go, every time.
“C’mon man,” Minseok softly encourages.
“I've been communicating with Kai,” Jongdae finally says. His throat feels tight. A weight lifts off his shoulders as soon as the words leave his lips, and while he feels relief, there's also trepidation squiggling around at the base of his neck.
“You… what?” Minseok’s brows scrunch and he tilts his head, like he hadn't heard Jongdae correctly.
“Kai talks to me. He- he finds me when I'm alone.”
“Shit, man,” Minseok looks tense, and then runs fingers through his hair after a moment of silence. “Ok- ok. So you haven't told us because…”
“Because he's not in custody.” Jongdae gives a helpless shrug of his shoulders. “Because people are dead and Zitao is in danger… because I'm a fucking sorry excuse for a cop.” he loses his wind quickly, slouching back into the couch and covering his face. He's awful. The scum of the Earth, right? He lets his hands drop to his lap and stares listlessly at the coffee table, still acutely aware of Minseok’s gaze burning into him.
“Does Jongin know?” Minseok finally asks.
Jongdae nods his head.
Minseok sighs and then suddenly Jongdae feels a warm, reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Hey man, it's ok. I understand why you wouldn't tell us. For our safety, right?” Jongdae nods again, still not meeting Minseok’s gaze. “And Jongin knows, and that's the most important thing.”
Jongdae finally looks over at Minseok, who is leaning into his space. “You're not mad?”
Minseok shakes his head and sits back when their noses almost bump. He doesn’t look embarrassed, but Jongdae sees a flash of Kai in the back of his mind’s eye, gets that ghost sensation on his lips. “It's a delicate situation, Dae.”
Minseok leaves it at that and Jongdae is profoundly relieved. He shakes thoughts of Kai away. The tension in his body floats away and he smiles a bit ruefully at his fear of his best friends, his colleagues, misunderstanding him. He'll tell Sehun, too, and knows that he might pull the ‘butthurt’ card that Jongdae didn't confide in him, but he also will be understanding.
Jongdae just hopes he's not making a mistake in telling them. In reality he knows everyone’s safety is compromised… But he also is definitely sure that he’s going to do his best to protect them.
-
When Jongdae discovers Zitao’s lifeless, cold body on the floor of his bathroom, he blacks out. One moment he’s pressing his fingers to her neck to try and find a pulse, and in the next moment he’s sitting on the back of an ambulance truck with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, EMT’s and first responders processing the scene. He stares, dazedly, not quite comprehending the situation. Zitao… In death, like Kyungsoon, she was still beautiful. And in death, like Kyungsoon, she was another piece of the puzzle. Jongdae knows that Kai got to her somehow, even though there weren’t any visible signs of assault. An empty prescription pill bottle was found in her travel bag but Jongdae knows, he knows she would never kill herself. She had been so strong, for all of them - for Yifan, too. Fearless, brave…
She’s gone.
A slap to Jongdae’s face brings him back to reality, Jongin’s features coming into focus, soul crushing reality weighing heavily in the pit of Jongdae’s gut.
“You wanna tell me why there’s a dead girl on your bathroom floor?” the Chief asks, and his voice is rough around the edges in a way that is slightly alarming to Jongdae.
“I-”
“You were housing a potential victim and you couldn’t tell me?” Jongin barrels on. “Minseok and Sehun have been camping out- Christ, Jongdae, what are you thinking?”
Jongdae’s lips are dry, his throat parched. “We were-”
“Stop.” Jongin holds up a hand to physically halt Jongdae’s words. He pinches the bridge of his nose, runs a hand through his dark hair, and looks like a fresh cadet all over again.
Why is Jongdae’s heart squeezing like this?
“You brought people onto the case that I didn’t assign,” Jongin starts, lifting up a finger. “You housed a potential victim - a victim - without my knowledge, when she should have been in protective custody.” Another finger lifts. “Another person is dead.” A final, third finger, and Jongin looks the most angry Jongdae has ever seen him. His brows are furrowed, his jaw tensed, gaze narrow as he looks at Jongdae. It’s obvious he’s holding back from really yelling, from really scolding and reprimanding Jongdae at this moment, and Jongdae feels like utter garbage.
Drawing the blanket tighter around himself, Jongdae isn’t trying for a pity party but he knows he looks pathetic. Jongin lets out a defeated sigh after a few tense seconds, then moves to sit next to Jongdae on the bumper. Their thighs are touching and Jongdae feels that strange burning sensation, the one he associates with Kai’s touch, weaving through the barriers of clothes and blanket between them. He subtly tries to shift away, but it’s fairly cold out and Jongin only instinctively follows his body heat.
“Ok.” Jongin finally says, after five minutes of silence and flashing lights. “Ok. What can you tell me?”
“I don’t know,” Jongdae admits. His voice is hoarse. He needs water.
“Ok…” Jongin rubs his palms over his knees. “The manner of death has been ruled as a suicide.”
“That’s wrong,” Jongdae replies with less fire than he’d hoped.
“I know. We all know,” Jongin starts drumming his fingers idly. “But things have shifted. Yifan died from burns in his esophagus, which we all know is next to impossible. And now Zitao has overdosed… on birth control.”
Jongdae’s brow furrows. “Birth control?”
“That’s what her prescription was for. The only prescription drug she’s ever taken. And you don’t have any in the house, either.” Jongin’s voice has a slightly proud tone to it, when he says Jongdae is clean.
“You can’t die from birth control,” Jongdae says. “How can the coroner even accept that?”
“They’re going to do more tox screens,” the Chief shrugs. “But for now, that’s the only preliminary cause of death we can decipher.”
And it’s absolutely nothing to go on.
“Chief!”
One of the detectives comes jogging up towards the back of the ambulance, looking slightly out of breath. He holds something out, an item in a baggy, and Jongin takes it from him.
“We found it in her purse, sir.”
“Thank you,” Jongin says, dismissing the detective. Once they’re alone again, Jongin brings the bag up so Jongdae can see the item as well.
“A watch?” Jongdae squints. “Zitao didn’t wear a watch.” His gaze starts to unfocus slightly.
Jongin flips the bag over, reading an engraving on the back. He lets out a slow sigh, and then hands the bag over to Jongdae, standing while he speaks. “This watch was meant for you.”
Jongin starts to walk away, shoulders slumped, looking defeated. Jongdae shifts so the light can hit the back of the watch and he feels dread fill his chest at the four words scratched messily into the metal, his lungs suddenly starting to feel like they can’t function properly.
”Time is almost up.”
[ Next]
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