Night Marauders

Chapter One: Better When it Feels Wrong

Every fiber in Six's being was telling him that this was a bad idea, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd gotten this far in life making bad decisions, and it was a little too late to stop making them now; especially when the boy in his lap was this pretty. Angel's hands were steadily navigating down Six's chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt as he went, mumbling something about how Six needed to quit wearing button ups. When he'd popped the last button, Six shrugged his way out of his shirt, letting Angel stare back at him, eyes blown wide, lips swollen; he was so fucking pretty and Six was still reeling at the fact that this was all his; that Angel was his, and he reveled in the possessiveness of it all as he drowned in the unrelenting attention that Six gave him. Angel locked eyes with him for a few more seconds before he was surging forward, sealing his lips over Six's, one hand on his chest, the other dropping down below the belt and Six made a stupid noise against Angel's mouth, and he was so gone and they'd hardly done anything. Six supposed that it was because he could get positively wasted on just the look of Angel, lips puffy and a fucked out look on his face. Angel popped the button to Six's jeans, taking a moment to shrug out of his own shirt, mumbling little "I love you's" against Six's mouth as he worked his own jeans off, managing to get them off somewhat gracefully in the cramped cab of the car, leaving Angel perched in his lap in nothing but a pair of black underwear and a black leather choker. And yeah, this was a bad idea; Six had poured fifty six million won into this car and he was nearly fucking anal about who the hell he even let into the thing, so fucking in his precious jet black Subaru BRZ was kind of against his own personal set of rules, but Angel was sitting in his lap looking the way he did, those pretty little moans falling out of his mouth, and all Six could do was sit back and let it happen because there was no way in hell he was going to say no to this.

~~~~

The wind bit into his skin, threatening the fire of his lighter as he raised it to his cigarette. Kiki sucked a breath in, the taste of nicotine falling across his tongue as he finally got his cigarette lit. He pulled it from his mouth with shaking hands, exhaling a rattling breath, all the while scolding himself for being such a baby about the whole situation. Kiki had long since lost track of how many fights B had taken on, but that still take away the pounding in his chest, the shake in his hands: the worry. He spent every fight the exact same way: outside of the building, cigarette in his hands, bouts of worry racing up his spine as he waited. Kiki took another drag, ashing his cigarette towards the sidewalk as he tried not to think about whatever was happening inside the warehouse, but the fear of whatever he might see was outweighing the need to look. He never watched the fights, preferring to keep his boyfriend as he knew him, all bright smiles and sweet kisses, choosing to ignore the animal he became when he stepped into the cage.

He'd finished his first cigarette, the butt of it stubbed out under the heel of his boot, and was about halfway through his second, when the warehouse door banged open. That stupid rush of worry was back, closing its fingers around his throat; that door wasn't supposed to open for another hour and nothing good ever came if that door opened early. Kiki let his arm go limp by his side, smoke gliding across his lips as he spoke, "So how much money are we out?"

"None. He's not finished."

Kiki ashed his cigarette, glancing towards Jin who had his own cigarette between his lips, eyebrows raised, expecting a light. Kiki nodded, pulling his lighter from his pocket. Jin liked to call himself B's coach, but B had long since outgrown whatever coaching Jin could offer, so now Jin was his bookie; collecting bets and pouring over his days in the cage.

"How's it going?"

"Good. I think he's got this one in the bag if I'm being honest."

"Well yeah I figured, I mean how's it going."

Jin took another drag, "Oh. He's relatively untouched at the moment."

"At the moment?"

"Yeah, at the moment. I can usually figure the outcome, but the rest well...I'm not psychic."

The two fell into silence as they smoked, Kiki getting to the end of his first, snubbing out the second butt under the heel of his boot, already fishing around in his pockets for another.

"You might wanna ease back. You know he hates when you come back covered in that shit." Jin said, finishing his cigarette. Kiki replaced the box in his pocket.

"I'd give it like five, ten more minutes. Not long." Jin said as he stepped back inside, the warehouse door slamming shut behind him as he went, leaving Kiki to his own company, and to his own worry, as he stood outside the warehouse, eyes pitifully fixed to the bright red door. He didn't know when this boy (who wasn't supposed to be more than a one night stand) had wormed his way so securely into his heart, but he had, and at first Kiki couldn't decide if he hated the way his heart lurched in his chest whenever B was around, or if he was just telling himself that. Two years later and he was head over fucking heels, deeply in love and all that shit; he'd turned into one of those saps that he used to make fun of and promise himself he'd never be, and it had taken him by such a surprise that he didn't even remember the fall until it was too late. None of that mattered now because he was already there, standing outside the warehouse, worrying at his lower lip until it bled, as he waited for B to come back.

~~~~

Six couldn't really pinpoint the exact moment his life had gone completely off track. It was probably when he'd interned at the mechanics, seeing the guts of such powerful cars gave him a kind of rush that college just wasn't doing, and things had gone from there, and now he was pressed between Angel and some complete stranger, crowded in around a cage, watching one of his closest friends beat the shit out some dude. He didn't know if he hated what he was looking at, or the fact that he was a little bit more into it than he should have been. He could hear Angel off to the left, bartering over the prices of Adderall with his client, but his eyes were glued to B, watching him land hit after hit, onto a man that was far too limp to fight.

"You pay full price, or you don't get your drugs and I take my business elsewhere. Final offer."

"Fine."

Six watched as Angel stuff the role of money into his jacket pocket, "Always a pleasure doing business with you!" he called after his client, who was already stalking away from him. He flashed Six one of his thousand watt grins, "Ready to go?"

The ref was running into the ring, pulling B away from his now unconscious opponent. Six nodded, "Yeah, you get everything you came for?"

A little pout fluttered over Angel's features, "No. I'm gonna have to make a housecall tomorrow."

Six didn't wanna know who was stupid enough to piss Angel off, but whatever unlucky bastard had done it, was in for some shit; Angel hated it when people were late with funds.

"You're good for tonight though?" Six asked. Angel nodded, taking his hand and tugging him from the crowd, saying something about how he wanted takeout from his favorite sushi place, as if he wasn't just talking about threatening a man in the morning five seconds ago. Six just let himself get pulled along, because that's what his life had come to, hopelessly in love with a drug dealer, racing stupidly fast cars for stupid amounts of money. It was moments of reflection like these that made him glad he didn't speak to his parents anymore, because he didn't want to hear all the shit they'd say if he did. The kicker in the whole situation was the fact that he loved it, he loved every single aspect of this illegal rampage that was his life, including the one way ticket to jail that came with it if he ever got caught.