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“I'm telling you, Taekjoo, Zhenya is Psikh Bagdanov!” Jongwoo’s jagged voice came from the other end of the line.
Taekjoo's ears suddenly began ringing, two high-pitch tones at a time. "What?" he said into the phone, quietly, nearly whispering. He must have heard Jongwoo wrong, he had to have.
"It's him, it's Zhenya!" Jongwoo yelled, and the word "no" trembled on Taekjoo's lips, but no sound came out. Normally, he would have been furious. Devastated. But for the first time in forever, his emotions, or rather the lack thereof, defied any logic. He was numb, eerily numb.
Jongwoo shouted something else, but the ringing had become so overbearing, Taekjoo couldn't make out a single word. His legs grew heavy, and he slumped on the edge of the bed, fingers clawing at his temples like they were trying to dig into his mind for answers. He didn't even notice how he let the phone go.
"Zhenya is Psikh Bagdanov," Taekjoo recited Jongwoo's words, gradually, taking time to taste each bitter syllable. "Zhenya is Psikh Bagdanov," he repeated, faster. It sounded ludicrous when Jongwoo said it, but now, cemented within the weight of his own voice, it sounded… just about right.
That son of a bitch.
"Did you hear me?" Jongwoo's muffled voice snapped Taekjoo back into the present, and he noticed deep crescent imprints on his palms where his nails had been digging into. "Get out of there, run!" Jongwoo continued as Taekjoo leaned down to pick up the phone from the emerald-green rug.
Before hanging up, he briefly pressed the phone to his ear. "Thank you, Jongwoo. I heard you."
He sat motionless, staring at the soaring gold-plated walls, tracing each delicate ornament with his gaze. He had no interest in any of the oligarch's extravagances, though. He was lost deep in his thought; his brain a clockwork of spinning gears, each one unlocking yet another clue he had missed, another red flag he had ignored. And there were plenty.
It might have been ten minutes, it might have been an hour, he couldn't tell. But eventually, the hefty bedroom doors creaked open, and Zhenya stepped in. "Here you are. How did it go with the old faggot Bagdanov?" He spoke so casually, so calmly, that for a brief moment Taekjoo was convinced Jongwoo's call was nothing but a bad dream.
Taekjoo raised his head, slowly, until he met those mischievous blue eyes. The same eyes he once feared, but eventually grew so attached to, it was difficult to imagine a life without them. It was a shame that Zhenya didn't share the sentiment.
"Are you one of them?" Taekjoo said, pronouncing each word like it was its own sentence. It was foolish, he knew it, but he hoped that maybe, just maybe, Zhenya would confess, and when he would hear his side of the story, things would actually start making sense. And everything would go back to normal.
But of course Zhenya didn't. Instead, he did that thing, where his lips curled into a devious smile, but his eyes remained cold. "Don't know what you're talking about."
Fucking liar.
"Don't fuck with me!" Taekjoo yelled, charging towards him, clinging at his collar.
"Took you a while." Zhenya was back to his old taciturn self, and the illusions of any sense of normalcy melted away, leaving Taekjoo with a grievous heaviness in his chest.
Taekjoo tightened his grip and swallowed the urge to beat the shit out of that fucking grin. "How could you?"
"How could I not?" Zhenya sneered. "You're so fucking naive, you were practically begging for it." And he was smiling. Smiling as if it was nothing but a fucking joke to him. Smiling as if Taekjoo was just a pawn in his twisted game.
"Fuck, I trusted you!" Taekjoo swung his arm and landed a nasty punch right onto Zhenya's face, but he kept smiling. He swung again, hitting him once, then twice, and nothing changed. The psycho kept smiling, and he still felt like shit.
"You done?" Zhenya said, wiping blood from his lips with the corner of his jacket sleeve.
"Hell I am!" Taekjoo was about to swing his fist again, but Zhenya was faster. Way faster. With one swift motion he charged forwards, nearly knocking Taekjoo down. They began wrestling, and soon their jagged breaths synced, growing louder and heavier with each passing minute, and—
Shit.
He didn't even realize how it happened. One moment Zhenya was there, wrestling with him like an equal, and the other—all over him, pinning him to the wall, sending his hands aloft, and clenching his wrists with an iron grip. Overpowering him.
Panic began settling in, as Taekjoo fought back strenuously, but to little avail. Zhenya was stronger, heftier, and on top of that, he was a fucking psycho .
"Don't struggle like that, foolish zaika," Zhenya sneered.
"Fuck you!" Taekjoo spat right into his face, missing his mouth by an inch. But the psycho—he didn't frown, he didn't wipe it off, no—he smirked and then licked the spit off his own lips, slowly and deliberately as if it was some delicacy; watching him attentively all the way.
Taekjoo's heart skipped a beat, and for some stupid reason he wanted to see him do that again, licking his spit, drinking it. God, he was probably losing his mind.
"Giving up already?" Zhenya said.
"Why?" Taekjoo breathed.
"Why what? Why are you such a shitty agent? Beats me."
"Why did you let me live?"
"Let you live?" Zhenya sucked his teeth and his sharp, pearly canines glistened under the dim light. "I didn't just let you live. I enjoyed watching you suffer."
He must have been losing his mind, after all. There was no other explanation. All of a sudden, Taekjoo burst out laughing, thunderously like some maniac. His shoulders kept falling up and down, uncontrollably, until tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, and he couldn't breathe, so he started wheezing.
When he finally quieted down, he saw Zhenya staring at him wide-eyed and startled; and, oh god … it felt so good to see him like that.
Out of words.
Out of control.
And not smiling.
"You can't be for real, you fucking moron," Taekjoo said, echoes of laughter still lingering on his face.
"Do I look like I'm not being real?" Zhenya barked, tautening his grasp threateningly until static crawled under Taekjoo's skin, and his arms went numb. But, for once, he wasn't the one panicking. Zhenya was. And it felt wonderful .
Got you, asshole.
"I think I know why," Taekjoo said.
"Oh, really?"
"You think I don't notice the way you look at me?" Taekjoo extended his neck, his lips missing Zhenya's by an eyelash, teasing. "How you undress me with your stare? Drooling?" he whispered, and for a second Zhenya stayed quiet. And he wasn't smiling.
"Since when are we so observant?"
"Admit it. You didn't keep me alive to watch me struggle. No. You—" He let out a short, biting laugh. "—You wanted to fuck me."
Zhenya's eyes widened so slightly, he looked both pleased and taken aback at the same time.
"So, I was right," Taekjoo said.
A faint smile returned to Zhenya's lips and he chuckled softly, getting ready to spit venom, to take the control back. Taekjoo, however, was not going to let it happen. For the first time since they met, they were playing the game by his rules. And he was winning.
Before Zhenya could utter a word, Taekjoo viciously swung his head back and forth, and their foreheads collided with a painful bang.
"Fuck!" Zhenya yelped, his head flying back. His grasp was still chaining Taekjoo's wrists almost as tightly as it did before, but it didn't matter. Taekjoo had a plan, and he was about to enjoy every part of it. Even if it hurt.
"If you want to fuck me, then," Taekjoo said icily, "Kneel."
He braced for impact; for Zhenya's fist to dig into his face or his guts. Hell, he was even ready to get shot or stabbed. But instead, he felt the pressure from his wrists lifting. And then, Psikh Bagdanov, the man HQ had deemed the craziest, knelt right before him, silent, like an obedient puppy.
Shit, Taekjoo thought. From all the scenarios, ironically, he expected this one the least. He stood dazed for a minute, scanning the room, slowly wiggling his fingers as the blood rushed back into his palms, and the static was finally gone. Zhenya waited patiently. For now.
He didn’t know what to do, what to say, where to look. But as soon as his eyes fixed on a black ebony cabinet that towered behind Zhenya, he instantly concocted a new plan.
"Your belt," Taekjoo commanded. "Give it to me."
Intrigue glimmered in Zhenya's eyes as he quickly slid his belt off and handed it to him.
"Hands. Behind you." Taekjoo said, and as soon as Zhenya lifted them, he looped the belt around his wrists, securing them tightly.
From below he barely looked like a threat. Quite the contrary. With his hands tied behind him, and his blue begging eyes, he looked rather pathetic. The great Psikh Bagdanov the world feared, was nothing more but a miserable pervert. Hilarious.
"Open your mouth," Taekjoo said and Zhenya obeyed.
Using his thumb, he traced the oval of Zhenya's lips, warm and slightly cracked from the dry winter's weather. They probably tasted bitter. Maybe even slightly metallic from all the blood that had pooled at the left corner. "Wider," Taekjoo said, and before Zhenya could react, he shoved his thumb into his mouth, grasping his chin with the rest of his fingers.
God. This was surreal. No sane person would willingly jump into the jaws of a crocodile. Hell, no one would go anywhere near such a beast. But here he was, with his finger pressing against Zhenya's sharp teeth, pushing his tongue down, as if trying to test his limits. And even though he seemed to be in control, Taekjoo couldn't deny it: after all, this man was the psycho. One wrong move and he could lose his finger; one wrong word and he might lose his life too.
Then why the hell did he feel so compelled to push him even further?
Zhenya's jaw trembled slightly, and a spark of terror flashed Taekjoo's chest. However, the beast didn't attack. Not as he had predicted, at least. With one fluid motion, Zhenya pushed his head forward, until Taekjoo's fingertip pressed against the back of his throat. So deep and so liquid-smooth. Fuck.
Zhenya was looking at him—no—he was staring, devouring him with his pearly blue gaze, as he tucked his lips and wrapped his wet, nasty tongue around Taekjoo's finger, sucking on him, and fuck... was it supposed to feel so good? Was it supposed to make his skin crawl, and his chest tighten? It didn't make any sense.
Taekjoo bit his lower lip, trying to contain a disobedient moan, but it escaped nevertheless. Breathing heavily, he looked down at Zhenya, as he sucked on him, slowly and steadily, as if savouring each and every second. And Taekjoo hated it. Hated how good it felt. Hated how much he wanted more. But above all, he hated how Zhenya was probably more than aware of all of these things. Taekjoo couldn't hide it; his cheeks were flooded with heat, and most likely as red as the bloody moon, and his pants suddenly felt way too tight, too restraining.
And even though, he would probably regret it later, Taekjoo knew it. There was no going back.
Taekjoo pulled his finger out and slid it into Zhenya's hair. "You want to fuck me with your mouth?" he asked so boldly, it barely sounded like a question.
"Would I be down on my knees, if I didn't?" Zhenya answered with his trademark devious grin.
Too cocky. He pulled on Zhenya's hair, yanking his head up all the way. He bet from all the people Zhenya had fucked, he was the only one who could get away with it. So, he was going to make the most of it. "Then beg for it."
"Please."
"Nu-uh," he cooed. "Like you mean it."
"Please," Zhenya repeated stoutly, and then pressed his lips against his bulge, softly biting it, running his tongue across, until the fabric was saturated with his drool.
"No, no, no." Taekjoo tugged his head away from himself, tightly clenching his hair, then pulling him up until their eyes met. "Did I let you do that?"
Zhenya shook his head, biting his lip as if trying to contain himself from devouring Taekjoo alive.
"That's right," Taekjoo said. "If you behave like a shithead,—" He leaned closer, one hand still buried in his hair, and the other pressing against his chin, forcing his jaw open, "—Then you get treated like one."
"Hmm." Zhenya let out a curious, contented sound, and he was smiling again. Fucking annoying.
"Swallow," Taekjoo commanded. He then puckered his lips, and the saliva slipped out like a slow-moving drop of honey, catching light as it weighed down. Before it even reached Zhenya's lips, Zhenya had his spine extended, and his tongue sticking out as if he was about to receive his first Eucharist.
God, he was a real freak. He swallowed the spit greedily, like a parched creature, and when he looked at Taekjoo, he seemed to had grown even more ravenous, begging for more. Originally, Taekjoo wasn't planning on giving him what he wanted so easily, but Zhenya's lips now glimmered so invitingly. So compellingly.
And so, before he knew it, Taekjoo was down on his knees pressing his lips against Zhenya's, pulling him closer by his collar. They were metallic, the lips, but the tongue tasted sweet and wild, and fiery. It went in and out of Taekjoo's mouth, deeper and fiercer each time, and he could feel his head spinning slightly. Oddly enough, it felt so much more perverse than having his mouth on his crotch.
"Look at yourself," Taekjoo said breathlessly, pulling away from Zhenya's messy, drooled face. "Hard from just kissing." He then greedily licked his own hand, without breaking eye contact.
Taekjoo unzipped Zhenya’s pants with the dry hand and with the other, gripped Zhenya’s hard, throbbing cock. Zhenya’s back arched, twitching, and he exhaled sharply. "I was hard way before that." He spoke boldly. Too boldly.
Taekjoo squeezed his cock until a brief grimace of agony flashed Zhenya's horny face."You talk too much." Taekjoo leaned for a kiss, but nibbled on his lip instead, biting harder and harder as he was tugging it, nearly piercing it with his left canine. And Zhenya moaned. Really moaned. Fuck. He was way more of a psycho than he had thought.
"Please, more," Zhenya said, sharply breathing into his face, and Taekjoo got a sudden urge to bite into him again, to rip him piece by piece until he bled. "Please, please, please," he exclaimed, and Taekjoo began stroking his cock again, harshly, and, unbeknownst to Taekjoo himself, his lips drifted to the side of Zhenya's neck and gnawed at it. Zhenya's hips flexed, and a warm gush of pre-come melted into Taekjoo's palm.
"God, you're such a fucking freak," Taekjoo said.
"Don't. Don't stop. Please," Zhenya moaned, thrusting his hips back and forth.
Taekjoo picked up the speed again, and then sunk his teeth into the curve of his shoulder, making Zhenya cry out. "You want it, rougher, huh?" He rigidly tautened his grip around his cock and it began throbbing, and Zhenya's head flung back.
"Fuck, Taekjoo." Zhenya was breathing so heavily, it looked as if he was about to suffocate. "Please. Harder. I beg you. Please."
As Zhenya gasped and moaned under Taekjoo's tyranny, Taekjoo slid off his own belt without Zhenya noticing. He then glided his tongue throughout the front of Zhenya's neck, tasting the hot, salty skin. And then he bit into him like a feral animal; and when Zhenya screamed out his name, once, then twice, he swiftly tied his belt around Zhenya’s constrained arms, and secured it to the leg of the cabinet.
As soon as the second spurt of pre-come leaked out, Taekjoo loosened his grip and ran his thumb through the shaft of Zhenya's wet, sticky penis."Psikh Bagdanov," Taekjoo whispered into his ear, letting his hard, swollen cock go. Zhenya grunted, confused, watching Taekjoo as he stood up, wiped his arm, and then fixed his half tucked in shirt.
"What are you doing?" Zhenya said, only now realizing he was bound to the cabinet.
Taekjoo towered above him. "Mother fucking Psikh Bagdanov."
Zhenya waged his arms forcefully, trying to set them free, but the belt was way too tight. "Fuck. Let me go!!" He yelled, and Taekjoo recognized the panic brewing in his voice. They were almost even now.
Taekjoo smiled. Smiled like he meant it, and he truly did. "Who's struggling now, huh?" He looked down on Zhenya again, watching two deep-set frown wrinkles pop on his forehead. "In roughly twenty minutes the whole Bagdanov family—your family—will arrive for the ball. And what will they find here, huh?"
Zhenya was tugging erratically, his eyes blazing with fury. "Let me go!! Fuck!! I said, let me go!!"
"They will find you, with your dick out." Taekjoo chuckled. "Not only that." He pulled a small blue cell phone from his back pocket. "They'll find out a bunch of incriminating shit. Like, how you've been working against their backs with a Korean agent. What a shame.” He put the phone by Zhenya's legs, close enough to make him try and grab it with the toe-cap of his shoe, but out of reach enough for him to never succeed. “Psikh Bagdanov. Traitor of the motherland.”
And then he turned away, leaving Zhenya's furious screams behind.