RDM | MW [✔]

04. Mingyu/Wonwoo

Mingyu

My kitten had been on my mind all damn night.

No.

He'd been on my mind since the moment I fucking met him.

His big brown eyes seemed to be the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth, and I couldn't purge my mind of how heavy they looked last night, weighed down by lust and desire. Wonwoo quivered against that chair, groaning in annoyance when he couldn't open his legs as wide as he needed. His needy little whimpers turned me inside and out, and though I was limited to a virtual view, I couldn't help but praise him.

Perfect.

My baby was a fucking dream, and I came all over the cold ground watching him stroke his cock for me, desperate sounds falling past his wet lips. His neck went rigid when he shouted his pleasure, and I imagined how he'd taste when I ran my tongue along those ridges—how loud he'd whine for me when I bit down on him and claimed him as mine.

He belonged to me now, and the only thing I cared about was making sure he fucking knew it—that everybody knew it.

The bottle in my hand made a pop when I uncapped it, and I shook a couple of painkillers into my palm. I didn't bother with water when I tossed them into the back of my throat and swallowed them with a single gulp.

"Rough night, Mingyu?"

Our eyes met from across the table, and the disdain that lingered in his gaze almost made me laugh.

Almost.

I didn't respect my brother enough to care about what he thought of me.

Dropping the bottle into the pocket of my sport jacket, I acted as though he hadn't spoken. That only served to piss him off. Rowoon was a fucking grenade, and it was anyone's guess when he'd explode.

"Are you planning to ignore me for the rest of the evening?"

"I'll stop fucking ignoring you when you say something that doesn't piss me off."

He couldn't.

Rowoon lived and breathed to aggravate me, and if it wouldn't completely devastate my mother, I'd shoot him right here and now.

"You are such a—"

His mouth snapped shut, and for a minute I thought I'd witnessed a miracle.

Beneath his shirt, his shoulders tensed. It was a subtle correction of posture that anyone would have missed, but that innate gesture paired with a smile laced with overzealous flattery only meant one thing.

My mother was here.

Over my shoulder, I spotted her moving toward us, weaving through tables with an energy not all sixty-year-olds possessed. Her dark hair was pulled back into a twist like it always was, held together by a thin band of diamonds. The lines around her mouth smoothed when she smiled, lifting a hand in a feeble wave. Her heels were too tall, and they clapped when she walked, one foot in front of the other as if she was on a runaway somewhere and not in a 4-star restaurant in the heart of Seattle.

Rowoon and I both stood as she approached, offering our cheeks when she reached for us. She came to me first, palming the sides of my head. Her light eyes were warm as they looked over me, dancing with affection.

"It's good to see you, ma."

"I've missed you." She was careful when she pressed her lips against my cheek. "I love having both of my boys in one room."

Rowoon snorted, and it took all my self-control not to reach across the table and slam his head into the edge of it.

"Hush." Mom greeted him with a kiss more chaste than mine, and I pulled out her seat for her. "I would think the two of you could pretend to like each other long enough to have a meal with your mother."