Backroom Deal

Maybe this is something Seokyoon and Jongwoo should talk about.

Hey hyung, how do you actually feel about Moonjo making us do it with him?

Seokyoon wants to broach the subject, even just to know that Jongwoo is actually okay about it, but he doesn’t know how. The words die on his tongue. Seokyoon isn’t usually the sort of person who thinks too hard before he speaks, but this isn’t a usual situation. And he doesn’t want to say the thing that will make Jongwoo leave him.

So they don’t talk about it. They talk about what to have for dinner, or about the song Seokyoon’s working on, or whether Jongwoo’s going to apologise when he sees Jaeho again on Monday. They have sex again, and they don’t talk about that either. It’s Jongwoo who initiates it, not Seokyoon. Every time.

Maybe it’s because Jongwoo isn’t scared of rejection, but Seokyoon is. And maybe that’s why Seokyoon can’t bring himself to say anything either. He’ll go too far.

---

Moonjo is not afraid of going too far.

When Seokyoon shows up at the hotel, he’s expecting to meet a client. Instead, Moonjo is the one waiting.

Moonjo smiles when he sees him, says, ‘Come in.’ As if he hasn’t brought Seokyoon here under false pretences.

Seokyoon hesitates. Because whatever Moonjo wants from him, it’s probably not harmless. But maybe that’s the thing that draws him in too – if Moonjo didn’t fascinate him, hadn’t bothered to hurt him, Seokyoon could turn his back more easily.

So Seokyoon takes a deep breath and he walks into the hotel room. The room is mostly bed, but there’s a desk with the TV on it, and a bag that Moonjo has left there along with some drinks.

‘You could have just come over,’ Seokyoon says. Like he would want Moonjo to. Like Jongwoo would want Moonjo to. Seokyoon shouldn’t feel like he has to make nice with Moonjo, but he does.

‘I had some preparations to make,’ Moonjo says. ‘Why don’t you have a drink?’ He gestures at the bottles on the desk – some sort of health drink – and Seokyoon takes one. He’d rather it was beer.

‘When you say preparations …’

‘I won’t spoil the surprise.’

‘Great.’ Seokyoon takes a mouthful of the drink; it’s sourer than he expected. He doesn’t know what Moonjo’s intentions are. Or if this means he’s not getting paid this evening. Not that Moonjo hadn’t come through the first time, but Seokyoon suspects this is something different.

‘Did you come from work?’ Seokyoon asks.

‘Mm. You might want to take a seat.’

‘Huh?’

Moonjo nods at the bed, and Seokyoon sits down, confused.

‘It’s like you’re about to tell me someone just died,’ Seokyoon jokes. Moonjo just smiles, and he begins to unpack his bag. There’s hardly room on the hotel desk.

‘What’s that?’ Seokyoon says. Flashes of metal – for some reason, Seokyoon’s mouth goes dry. He takes another drink.

‘Just some tools,’ Moonjo says. He holds up a tiny mirror, the kind dentists use, making the surface catch the light. It’s hard to focus on anything except that light.

‘What,’ Seokyoon says, ‘am I having a check-up? I promise I’ve been flossing regularly.’

Moonjo smiles, but it’s not at Seokyoon’s joke – it’s something in his own mind. Moonjo pulls the chair closer to the bed, but before he sits, he pulls on a pair of latex gloves.

‘This is weird,’ Seokyoon says.

‘Open your mouth for me.’

Seokyoon opens up. And then Moonjo is peering inside his mouth, pressing down on his tongue with the mirror to inspect his upper teeth. It should feel weirder than it does. Moonjo has some dentist–patient kink – so what? Seokyoon just wants to get it over with. He’d rather take advantage of the big bed and have a nap.

Moonjo withdraws from Seokyoon’s mouth. ‘You have been good, haven’t you?’ he says. It makes Seokyoon squirm; Moonjo pats him on the cheek and Seokyoon has to try not to flinch. He hasn’t forgotten Moonjo hitting him.

‘Relax,’ Moonjo says. ‘I can’t say this won’t hurt, but I know you’ll get through it.’

‘What won’t hurt?’

‘The extraction.’ Moonjo picks up a dental gag and Seokyoon obediently opens his mouth for Moonjo to put it in. He doesn’t think he needs an extraction. Hadn’t Moonjo just said he’d been good?

He should be more concerned about this. Somehow, the feeling of not being able to shut his mouth is more disconcerting than Moonjo’s words are.

Moonjo inspects his teeth again, his face close in to Seokyoon’s, and Seokyoon feels a flicker of arousal. It doesn’t mean anything. Before he does anything more, Moonjo takes a photo of Seokyoon with his phone. That’s strange too, but Seokyoon can’t think why.

Even when Moonjo inserts the pliers into his mouth, Seokyoon can’t bring himself to be concerned. It’s only when Moonjo fixes those pliers on his back tooth and yanks that Seokyoon registers. He can’t make a proper protest; he can’t move his jaw. Only make a sound like an aborted yell.

‘Shh,’ Moonjo says. ‘It’s already over, see?’ He shows Seokyoon the molar he’s just pulled, still wet; Seokyoon can’t protest, can’t swallow the saliva in the back of his throat. It tastes more and more like blood. He grabs hold of Moonjo’s wrist, the one that isn’t holding up the tooth. He wants to say, take it out – meaning the gag – but the sounds he makes aren’t words.

‘Relax,’ Moonjo says again. He extracts himself from Seokyoon’s grip – goes to put away the tooth somewhere. He hasn’t taken the gag out, and Seokyoon feels panicky. He puts a hand to the metal over his face, and wonders if he can’t take it out himself. His fingers don’t work the way they should.

‘Stop that,’ Moonjo says when he comes back. He removes the gag himself, and he places a piece of cotton in Seokyoon’s mouth, below the gap he’s made. ‘Bite down for me.’

Seokyoon bites into the cotton. Without the metal in his mouth, he relaxes. Moonjo sits back down and does something on his phone. Seokyoon lightly touches his own jaw, over the place where his tooth used to be.

‘We’ll see how long it takes to bring Jongwoo running,’ Moonjo says, and he sets his phone aside.

‘Why would Jongwoo come?’ Seokyoon says, past the cotton. He wants to pull it out. But Moonjo hasn’t said to.

‘Why indeed?’ Moonjo says. ‘He’s the kind who doesn’t like to see a kicked puppy, I think.’ Moonjo cups his hand over Seokyoon’s, where Seokyoon is rubbing his jaw.

Seokyoon knows he’s the puppy. And he knows who the one kicking him is. But this time he doesn’t bother to flinch.

Moonjo lets him go and turns his attention back to his phone. Seokyoon lies back on the bed. He should be worried about Moonjo’s intentions, but he’s not. He should be worried what he’d being used to drag Jongwoo into, but he’s not.

Seokyoon drifts off. When he wakes up again, it’s to Jongwoo storming into the room. Seokyoon missed Moonjo letting him in.

‘Come on,’ Jongwoo says, grabbing Seokyoon’s shoulder to yank him upright.

‘What is it, hyung?’ The words come out wrong. Seokyoon had forgotten the cotton was in his mouth. It tastes disgusting. He sticks his fingers in his mouth to fish it out. He’s naked, which is weird, because he doesn’t remember getting undressed.

‘Now, now,’ Moonjo says. ‘He’s in no state to be going anywhere right now.’

‘What the hell did you do to him?’

‘Nothing much,’ Moonjo says. ‘Just taking a memento.’

Seokyoon isn’t really listening, but he looks up when Jongwoo shoves Moonjo. It’s not enough to knock him over; Moonjo only takes a step back. Jongwoo, anyway, turns aside to grab Seokyoon by the arm.

‘Get dressed.’

‘Does it matter?’ Seokyoon protests. ‘Can’t I just sleep here a while?’

Jongwoo looks disbelieving. Moonjo gives a low chuckle.

‘You can’t sleep yet,’ Moonjo says. ‘Jongwoo came all the way here to rescue you. Shouldn’t you show some appreciation?’ He doesn’t stress the word, but Seokyoon knows what he is implying.

‘I didn’t come to mess around,’ Jongwoo snaps, but Seokyoon isn’t listening to him.

‘Let me get rid of this,’ he says, because he’s still holding the sodden bloody cotton. He gets to his feet – or tries to. Jongwoo has to grab him when he sways, and he lowers him back to the bed.

‘Geez,’ Jongwoo is saying, ‘I’ll do it.’ He takes the lump with his face screwed up, and looks around for a bin to chuck it in.

Moonjo places a hand on the back of Seokyoon’s neck, and massages the base of it.

Seokyoon’s cheek hurts where his tooth is missing. He wants to touch the spot with his tongue, but doesn’t dare. And Moonjo expects him to blow Jongwoo like this?

The cotton disposed of, Jongwoo grabs Seokyoon’s clothes from where Moonjo has folded them on the bed.

‘You’re getting dressed,’ Jongwoo says.

Moonjo presses his thumb in against Seokyoon’s vertebrae.

‘Leave it, hyung,’ Seokyoon says. And when Jongwoo steps close enough, Seokyoon grabs for his belt.

Jongwoo goes still. He looks not at Seokyoon but at Moonjo behind him. Seokyoon feels Moonjo let go of him and lean back, but he can’t see the face he makes.

‘Seokyoon, you don’t have to do anything he says.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Seokyoon says. And he doesn’t. It’s not because Moonjo is sitting right behind him and he believes in Moonjo’s willingness to hurt him more than he believes Jongwoo will punish him for this. And Jongwoo doesn’t move away or anything; he lets Seokyoon undo his pants and pull his dick out. He twitches in Seokyoon’s hand.

Seokyoon pulls Jongwoo’s foreskin back and he licks the head of his cock; then Moonjo grabs him by his hair and yanks him back.

‘You’ve just had an extraction.’

Seokyoon looks up at Moonjo blankly; it’s not like Moonjo has paid any mind to Seokyoon’s injuries before. He doesn’t understand what Moonjo wants from him.

‘What?’ Jongwoo says. ‘You seriously –’ He looks at Seokyoon’s mouth, aghast. And now Seokyoon feels like they’re both mad at him, and his head is too fogged up to work out why.

‘No,’ Jongwoo says, answering a question no-one’s asked. ‘I’m getting out of here.’

‘Hyung –’ Seokyoon grabs Jongwoo’s arm, before Jongwoo can zip himself back up. ‘Don’t leave me here alone.’

‘You shouldn’t even have agreed to meet him,’ Jongwoo says. ‘Not after last time.’ Jongwoo’s eyes lose focus momentarily.

‘I didn’t mean to,’ Seokyoon says. He leans his head forward into Jongwoo’s abdomen. He feels Jongwoo’s annoyed sigh, before he rests a hand against Seokyoon’s head.

‘Seokyoon came for a job, that’s all’ Moonjo says. ‘I may have surprised him.’ Seokyoon feels the mattress shift as Moonjo gets to his feet. ‘But if you don’t want to play the client, babe, I will.’

Seokyoon tenses. Jongwoo doesn’t so much as pat his head.

‘It’s none of my business, what the two of you do.’

Seokyoon lifts his head to look up at Jongwoo, his eyes pricking at the unfairness of the statement. ‘Hyung, you don’t mean that.’

‘Maybe he does,’ Moonjo says, bending over so his face is close up to Seokyoon’s. ‘Maybe he’s leaving you to me. Won’t that be fun?’

‘Please, hyung.’

Maybe the seriousness of the situation finally registers to Jongwoo. He looks away from the two of them, like he’s pissed off. Then he lifts a hand to press against Seokyoon’s chest, shoving him gently back against the bed. His eyes are cold, as he looks Seokyoon over. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but after a moment decides against it. Instead he takes his cock out and strokes it, while he assesses Seokyoon.

Seokyoon knows, then, what he’s meant to do. He pulls his feet up onto the bed, spreading his legs and offering his ass up to Jongwoo. He prepped before he came, of course. So it doesn’t really matter if Jongwoo wants to fuck him dry. Maybe it should matter, but it doesn’t.

He doesn’t really want to fuck you, a small part of him thinks. It’s only Moonjo putting him into this situation. Moonjo stands behind Jongwoo like some demon. Like he’s possessed him.

Jongwoo steps forward, lining his dick up against Seokyoon’s hole. He looks uncertain, so Seokyoon nods at him. And then, when Jongwoo comes to push in, Seokyoon bears down, to make the passage easier. The stretch doesn’t hurt; it feels good.

Behind Jongwoo, Moonjo is watching. But Seokyoon is past feeling any kind of shame about that. And very soon, he cannot pay Moonjo any mind at all. Because it is only Jongwoo’s cock inside him that he is aware of; the sound of their bodies slapping together is the only thing he hears. And he wanted this. He forgets the pain in his face, forgets how he was brought here.

Forgets Moonjo’s entire existence. Until Jongwoo’s hands, guided by Moonjo’s, shift to his neck. Just holding, at first.

Seokyoon closes his eyes. And Jongwoo’s hands – Moonjo’s hands – tighten. Seokyoon should be scared, but somewhere in his mind Moonjo’s voice is still saying relax. The lack of air turns all the nerves in his body up to their limit. He thinks he’s going to come like this, just from getting fucked, getting choked, no-one even touching him except maybe he’s about to die; Jongwoo could kill him like this and Seokyoon might not even mind –

And then Jongwoo snatches his hands back and says, ‘No no no,’ and suddenly he’s pulling out from Seokyoon and turning around to smack Moonjo in the face.

Seokyoon opens his eyes. He sees it. Moonjo has turned his head to the side, but his lip has split and the blood that rubs down is bright red and magnetic.

‘I won’t do it,’ Jongwoo says. ‘You can’t make me, you bastard.’

He tries to punch Moonjo again, but this time Moonjo dodges, and he turns the movement into kneeing Jongwoo – in the stomach or the groin, Seokyoon can’t tell.

Seokyoon’s heart is racing. He can feel the blood pumping in his jaw, in his hard cock. His head feels suddenly clearer than it had since he came here.

Jongwoo backs off from Moonjo, and the two of them move counter to each other – Moonjo toward Seokyoon, Jongwoo away.

Moonjo makes a feint toward Jongwoo, and Jongwoo grabs a bottle of one of the stupid little sports drinks and smashes it down on Moonjo’s head.

For a moment, Seokyoon wonders if it might have been enough to knock Moonjo out. But Moonjo, with his hair wet with the drink and with blood, laughs. Still, when Jongwoo points the broken edges of the bottle to Moonjo’s neck, Moonjo puts his hand up in surrender. Jongwoo backs him up against the bed, and Seokyoon shifts out the way fast.

‘Take off your pants,’ Jongwoo says to Moonjo. It’s strange, but Moonjo’s eyes look so bright. Seokyoon can’t tell if it’s a danger sign, or if Moonjo is just excited.

Moonjo keeps those eyes on Jongwoo as he pulls off his trousers, his briefs. He already has an erection.

There has to be something wrong with Seokyoon; he immediately wants to put his mouth on it.

‘You’re a sicko, you know that?’ Jongwoo says. He’s not talking to Seokyoon. He’s not, but he could be.

‘I’m just someone who’s not pretending,’ Moonjo says.

Jongwoo throws the broken bottle on the bed, where it tumbles to the floor. Then he presses his fingers up against Moonjo’s hole, and watches Moonjo’s reaction. Moonjo looks back at him, that dark, fierce expression. Seokyoon hates being on the outside of it; he wants Moonjo to look at him that way.

Jongwoo does something with his hand, and Moonjo shudders, the motion moving through his body. He lifts his chin, narrow his eyes. Jongwoo does it again. And then he pulls his fingers out and he shoves his dick in instead. Seokyoon thinks it must hurt. Not that Jongwoo clearly cares right now, or at all.

Jongwoo wraps his hands around Moonjo’s throat, and Seokyoon watches, fascinated, as he squeezes. Seokyoon’s fingers move up to his own neck unbidden. His life in Jongwoo’s hands.

But this time Jongwoo isn’t backing off. And he won’t, Seokyoon sees: whether because he wants Moonjo dead or if it’s just a thing it’s hard to pull himself away from, when he’s this close to coming.

‘Hyung,’ Seokyoon says suddenly. ‘Hyung, don’t do it.’

Does Jongwoo even hear? But Moonjo does, and his eyes slide over to Seokyoon. Seokyoon can’t understand why he isn’t resisting.

‘Hyung.’ Seokyoon grabs Jongwoo’s arm and shakes him, but Jongwoo’s hands don’t loosen. ‘Hyung, you can’t kill him. Not like this. Hyung, you can’t – they’ll work it out – there must be DNA on everything –’

That, then, gets through to Jongwoo. He loosens his grip. Seokyoon’s weight trying to get him to let go means that he falls between them, half on top of Moonjo. He feels the breath that Moonjo takes, how desperate and full it is, regardless of whether or not Moonjo wanted Jongwoo to kill him.

Jongwoo looks down at Seokyoon and Moonjo, and he looks at his hands held in front of him. He backs away from the bed. And when Seokyoon sits back from Moonjo, he sees that Jongwoo has come, his semen leaking from Moonjo’s swollen hole.

Moonjo has come too.

When Jongwoo hits the desk behind him, he slumps to the floor and curls up, folding in on himself.

Moonjo sits up; he sounds terrible, his breath rasping worse than Seokyoon’s, and looks awful too, his forehead wet with blood, the red marks from Jongwoo’s hands standing bright on his neck.

‘Maybe you should go to hospital,’ Seokyoon says. Moonjo glances at him. And scoffs. It flares anger and jealousy in Seokyoon’s chest.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Moonjo says. His voice is raw. He wipes at his forehead, then looks at the sweaty bloody mess that leaves on his fingers. ‘I had fun.’

Moonjo picks his clothes up off the floor, and disappears into the bathroom. Seokyoon waits to hear water running before he slides off the bed to sit by Jongwoo.

‘Hyung. You okay?’

Jongwoo tucks his head in tighter, his eyes sliding away from Seokyoon’s attempts to meet them.

‘Hyung –’ Seokyoon reaches out a hand to Jongwoo’s shoulder; Jongwoo flinches back. That hurts Seokyoon, more than Moonjo’s games or having his tooth pulled. ‘You can talk to me, you know.’

Slowly, Jongwoo turns his head and now he looks Seokyoon dead in the eye. ‘You’re in on it, aren’t you?’

‘Me? Hyung, come on.’

‘I only came here for you. Fuck.’ Jongwoo pushes himself to his feet. Seokyoon stands too, but again when he reaches out for Jongwoo, Jongwoo moves back.

‘Fuck. I need to get away from all this.’

Jongwoo tidies himself up – of the three of them, he’s the only one who’s come away as merely dishevelled. It’s not fair.

Moonjo comes out the bathroom as he leaves, but Jongwoo doesn’t stop.

‘That didn’t work out, then,’ Moonjo says. The finger marks on his neck are stark and clear. He looks Seokyoon over. ‘You’ll need to get dressed if you want to go after him.’

‘Doesn’t it bother you,’ Seokyoon says, ‘that he tried to kill you?’

‘No,’ Moonjo says. ‘Jongwoo keeps too much bottled up inside.’

Seokyoon doesn’t know about that. Maybe because he’s Jongwoo’s secret eater.

Moonjo sits on the bed while Seokyoon dresses, drinking bottled water. Seokyoon’s fingers are still clumsy, even if most of him is moving okay.

‘That drink you gave me …’

‘Unique, isn’t it?’ Moonjo says. ‘The landlady makes it. You miss out a lot living alone, you know.’

‘You drugged me.’

‘Ah. I guess you’re not missing out then.’

At Seokyoon’s aghast look, Moonjo laughs, and then ends up coughing, until he takes another drink.

‘You drugged me and then you tried to get Jongwoo to kill me.’ Seokyoon can hardly wrap his own mind around it.

‘And what are you going to do about it?’ Moonjo says, his expression almost flirtatious. Seokyoon’s thoughts leave him. ‘You could have let Jongwoo kill me. But you didn’t.’

‘You can’t just kill people,’ Seokyoon says. ‘Even if I wanted to. We’d never get away with it.’

‘Did you want to?’

Seokyoon lowers his eyes, and he shakes his head. He’s finished getting dressed already; if Moonjo isn’t keeping him here, he has no reason to linger.

‘So you weren’t thinking of Jongwoo after all.’

Seokyoon looks up again in surprise. Moonjo’s throat must be bothering him, because he’s rubbing his fingers over the front of it. Seokyoon doesn’t ask him to explain; it’s just like Moonjo to accuse him of being selfish. But it really was for Jongwoo’s own sake that Seokyoon had stopped him.

And Seokyoon needs to find Jongwoo now, to make sure he’s okay.

He hopes it’s just that Jongwoo has gone home. He hopes that nothing worse happens.