hideaki mao is not one to believe in true love, but tries hard not to fall for the charismatic, erotica writer xu minghao.
"I know that you would die
and kill for me,"
...
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refined.jpg “My apologies, but food play is not really to my liking,”
“STILL haven’t learned, have you?”
Jihoon grabs him by the hair. He feels the moisture that wraps each strand together, along with the sickening warmth that lingers on the skin of his fingers. He tries not to grimace at the thought, because after so many years of dealing with such situations; sweat and blood shouldn’t be such a big deal to him. Still, Jihoon finds a nauseating sensation crawling around his skin whenever he touches it directly. Just like the fistful of hair he tightly held in his fist right now, followed by the grimace of the man in front of him.
Blood was still running down from the man’s broken nose and the corners of his mouth, staining his worn out jeans in a color that shifted into an ugly patch of dark purple. Violence was always their only resort at this point, though Jihoon was not very fond of dirtying his fist — but these men would not speak unless they were reminded that they had a child to support and a family to care for, so the truth would always end up in Jihoon’s hands one way or another.
Using his free right hand, he balls it into a fist and swings it hard; aiming right at the man’s cheek and striving for a broken tooth or two. Note that he doesn’t just swings once, but repeatedly at that, until Mingyu had to clench his eyes shut to not feel that blow just from watching.
“Still not gonna talk about it?” Jihoon mutters through gritted teeth, the pain finally submerging into his fist, “C’mon man, help us out. It might be the last chance for you to get into heaven. You know we’re not letting you out alive, you piece of shit.”
The man’s shoulders heaves up and down as he tries to catch his breath from the blow he had received. He spits out a laugh.
“Heaven? I don’t believe in that bullshit.” He smiles, baring his teeth that were stained with a mixture of blood and saliva, “If I am meant to die for the sake of our Boss, then I’ll die.”
“You fuckers make me sick, man.” Jihoon reaches for something in the back of his pocket — a gun — and loads it. He places the muzzle precisely on the man’s left temple. “Claiming you’ll die with honor for your Boss; bullshit, you hear me? You think your Boss cares for your hard work? If he does then why’d he send you here, knowing well that you’d die? Ah, that’s right — because this Boss that you honor so much doesn’t give a fuck about you and your fucking family.”
“Wanna know what I think your boss is? A greedy man with pretty big guts to face the public eye despite the shitty things he's committed. Look at all the money he’s spent trying to cover up the shit he’s done to the fucking country.” Jihoon goes on, pushing the muzzle deeper against the man’s flesh, “Imagine if he used that money for the fucking people; then you wouldn’t have to end up with a shitty job like this, and your family wouldn’t have to suffer either.”
