#then a girl in a tight tank with loose baggy linen pants on
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I typically talk about fashion in terms of materials sourcing, historical or cultural significance, sensory experience, production processes, or environmental impact of the material source but I will say I’ve been thinking lately about how fashion in terms of clothing trends has changed in my lifetime & I’m a big fan of where things are right now. No, not everything is what I’d consider attractive or stylish, but it’s at a good crossroads of sleek, comfortable, & practical. When I first became conscious of fashion in the 2010’s it was very focused on showing off ones body. Tight, low waisted/necked or short hemmed, high heels. Then, it was this impression of…extending ones body via clothes to ‘shape’ it, i.e. use clothing to shape one’s body into a more socially acceptable form. Then there was a bunch of ugly experimental shit which I hated. Tacky ill-done animal print. Now, or at least what I see on the street or on campus, there’s a nice balance of sleek lines, loose hanging fabrics, earth tones, & vibrant colors/patterns. I’m a big fan.
#me#fashion#saw a girl in a blazer t shirt dress shorts & side dress flats#*slide#then a girl in a tight yellow tank dress with chunky white sandals#then a girl in a tight tank with loose baggy linen pants on#then a girl in an all white cotton jumpsuit set with a billowing leopard print scarf & matching glasses#or a shirt pant cream linen set with big metal jewelry
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Take a Hit (M)
Summary: Super rich kids with nothing but little white lines and daddy’s name willing to do whatever for a good time...
Warnings: mentions of recreational drug use
Length: 5.6k
Previously...
"You know the charges will be dropped before we even get to precinct, right?" Woojin didn't even have to glance in the rearview mirror to know the boy was smirking--he could just hear it in his voice--yet he still slid his eyes up to meet the mischievous pairs reflecting back at him. Shrugging, he conceded, "I know. But I figured it'd be nice for us to have a little chat." The elder of the two brats scoffed, "As if we'd tell you a thing." His brother snickered into the sleeve of his designer shirt, the shining silver cuffs around his wrists flashing brightly in the darkened car interior. Woojin shrugged once more and slouched further into his seat as he yawned, "Maybe, maybe not." He flicked on the signal jammer Jiwoo had built into the GPS tracker of his cruiser before he made a sharp left a few blocks shy of the precinct. "I've read over your files more times than I can count, so I know just about all there is about the both of you. But there's just one little thing I can't quite figure out. Now, I know I can't make you talk--I'm too impatient honestly—but I know someone who can. And she's very good at opening people up," he drawled nonchalantly. "Are you threatening us?" the taller of the two smugly inquired. "Because our father--" "Will have my ass on a silver platter while the rest of me swims in the river blah blah blah," the tired cop finished for him. "But no, it's not a threat. It's a promise." "Where are you taking us?" the other brother piped up as his widened eyes scanned the unfamiliar street signs passing by them. "We're taking a little detour, kid. Our final destination, however, depends on if you answer my question." The two brothers stared at each other in silence for a long moment before they turned to face forward. "What do you want to know?" "How is it that the mayor's sons wound up being drug mules for LOXE?" The two smirked as if Woojin had asked the most obvious and most idiotic of questions. "The same way all rich kids get involved with designer drugs,” the younger began.
“Spring Break."
"Is it just me or is this shit starting to be shit?"
BamBam inhaled sharply as he smoothly slid the rolled bill along the snowy white lines running parallel on the glass tabletop. He tilted his head back and sniffed a couple times before he swiped his thumb to gather up the excess powder to rub against his gums for good measure. "Nah, it's starting to feel like a fucking decaf Red Bull to me too," he answered bitterly. "Fucking scam, man, really. I mean what the fuck are we supposed to do on fucking Spring Break if we can't even get fucked up?"
Jongin scoffed and shrugged, "Score some harder shit and maybe not overuse the word 'fuck.' I don't know though, just a thought."
“Fuck you.”
“Ew. Incest. No thanks,” Jongin snickered as he meticulously cut another line. “You want another?” he proffered, nimble fingers gracefully twisting up a discarded thousand baht bill.
“Nah, man. That flour’s all yours.”
He shrugged, “Suit yourself.” He snorted the line in one sharp huff before plopping back against the sofa. He outstretched his arms and propped his feet up, his long limbs lazily tangling with the slightly shorter ones of his younger brother. “So…” he drawled, “what’s the plan for the night, Bammie?”
BamBam cracked open an eye. “Sorn’s got a white party on her yacht, Lisa’s throwing a rave out in some random ass cove, Ten’s down for whatever, and Nickhun-hyung’s club opens tonight.”
“Well, shit, that’s a slow ass night.”
“Right? I swear, man, it’s gonna go even slower if this shit doesn’t kick in,” the younger griped as he bitterly toed the empty plastic baggy over the table’s edge.
Jongin rolled his eyes, huffing, “Your bitching is ruining what little bit of a buzz I do have, so could you maybe just shut up?”
“Asshole.”
“Dickwad.”
“Cumdump.”
“Mistake.”
A snort of laughter erupted from Jongin as his little brother hurled himself on top of him. BamBam growled darkly, pushing down harder on the pillow to muffle the annoying peals of laughter steadily flowing from the older. His attempted homicide was thwarted when Jongin jerked his right hip up, the move throwing off the younger’s balance, and flipped them over to pin the little brat beneath him.
“Fuck you,” BamBam spat venomously.
Jongin grinned at the sour expression painted on his brother’s face. “Again, no thanks.” He pushed himself upright and grabbed his burner (not the one they were required to keep on themselves at all times in case of assassination or revolution or whatever fukcing imaginary crisis the head of their security detail always droned on about, but their direct hotline to just about any elite dealer in all of Asia). “Here,” he tossed it to the younger, “call whathisname and see if he can get us anything stronger than this sugar.”
“Who do you think I called in the first place?” he griped, throwing the phone right back at him.
“Well, fuck.”
“Thought we agreed not to overuse the word ‘fuck,’” BamBam smirked, victory sparking in his eyes as he watched his brother scowl before huffing in defeat. BamBam jumped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “C’mon,” he chirped, pulling on his ivory linen blazer after discarding his mesh tank top (“way too 90s”), “we gotta get going or else Sorn’ll rip our balls off for being late.”
Jongin deadpanned, “We’re already late.”
BamBam shook his head, “No, we’re fashionably late.”
“Technically still late.”
“Whatever.” BamBam pursed his lips as he swept his eyes over the other’s ensemble. “Go change your shirt.”
Jongin glanced down at the cream sleeveless tunic which loosely hung off his chiseled frame, all of its buttons tastelessly undone. “What’s wrong with my shirt?”
“Are you trying to get pussy or dick? Because your shirt is screaming ‘Fuck me Daddy’ instead of ‘Call me Daddy.’”
“Oh,” he responded simply as BamBam disappeared into the elder’s bedroom to rummage through his wardrobe.
He emerged a mere moment later, arm outstretched to offer his brother a crisp button-down shirt. “Here, wear this. It’s Vuitton so don’t button the top four buttons. Gimme your belt.”
“What?”
“Give. Me. Your. Belt.”
“Why?”
“Must you question my sartorial genius every step of the way?”
“Yes.”
BamBam sighed dramatically. “First of all, it’s ivory and your pants are bone; contrary to popular belief, whites can clash. I mean, how do you think most of the wars in history started? Second of all, it’s patent leather and patent leather is fucking tacky and I’ll be damned if I have to be anywhere near you or that disgusting excuse of material. My reputation would go down in the flames that belt should’ve been burned in. Third of all, your hips are your best asset—don’t give me that look—and the belt detracts from that. Fourth of all, do you know how uncomfortable it is to be grinding away on a metal clasp? Ten out of ten would not recommend. So give me your fucking belt.”
Jongin scowled but nevertheless followed his brother’s instructions. He wordlessly yanked his belt—Ferragamo, straight off the Milano runway and less than two weeks old so it most certainly was not “tacky”—loose before forking it over in exchange for the shirt, the fabric still far too stiff for his liking thanks to his actual stylist’s ridiculous obsession with starch. A disgruntled grumble rumbled through him as BamBam’s slender fingers insistently tugged at the perfectly tucked hem until it was left “aesthetically” crumpled. “I look like a douche,” he groaned.
“Your outsides finally match your insides.”
“Fuck you.”
“So much for no incest.”
"Where’s Ten?” BamBam shouted over blaring music, the crashing high hats skidding roughly over an erratic bassline reverberating harshly through the crowded club and chopping through his words. “Kai!”
“What?” Jongin angrily snapped as he pulled his mouth away from the bottle girl who was demonstrating all the ways her mouth could move on other parts of him. “Where’s Ten?” he exasperatedly repeated. “How the fuck should I know? And why the fuck should I care?” Jongin growled as he stretched his neck to the side to give the girl more real estate to march hot, wet open-mouthed kisses along. “He has our shit, dipshit.” “He’s your friend so go find him. I’m busy.” “Hey, sugar tits,” BamBam stooped forward and snapped his fingers by the girl’s ear to get her attention, “don’t you have a job or something you should be doing instead of trying to suck my brother’s dick through his throat?” Jongin scowled, “That doesn’t even make sense.” “And neither does your taste in women—no offense, sugar tits—but here we are.” Jongin cut his eyes toward his brother, steely glare met and held by an equally hardened glare. The two brothers stayed locked in a tense stare off for a long minute before Jongin gruffly huffed, “Fuck it, fine.” He roughly pushed himself out of the chair, not even glancing back as the girl cursed at him for callously shoving her out of his lap. “Let’s split up. Faster we can find him, faster I can get rid of you.”
“You check the dance floor, I got the bar,” BamBam instructed. Jongin nodded once before turning on his heel to descend the stairs leading from their VIP booth to the crowded dance floor, long lets swiftly carrying him toward the sea of people grinding together as one. BamBam fished his phone out of his pocket (making a mental note to himself that while his ass looked delicious in them, it wasn’t it his best idea to wear leather pants this tight when his pocket space was limited) to check for any signs of life from their missing plug. He huffed in annoyance at the vacant screen glowing up at him. “Last time I ever ask him for shit,” he mumbled under his breath as he pushed his way through the club to the bar. Once there, he perched himself in one of the metal swings hanging by the edge of the bar (Nickhun’s interior designer Heedo or whatever always had a flair for the unexpected). He leaned forward to rest his forearms against the cool countertop, the onyx volcanic glass contrasting starkly with the sleeves of his blazer, as he carefully scanned the faces of everyone near him.
Despite his current mission, he couldn’t seem to shake the eerie feeling that he was the one being watched. He shifted uncomfortably in the swing. He’d never been so paranoid on nothing more than coke and a couple Xans before. ‘Oh fuck,’ he thought in a panic. What if they hadn’t done coke? What if they’d been sold heroin or meth or some shit? Fucking hell, his perfect porcelain teeth were going to rot and his baby soft skin was going to get all wrinkly and his hair was really going to turn to the same shade of ash grey the silky strands were currently dyed! He was going be unfuckable, a fate far worse than death! God, he really needed to find Ten and pop however many mollies it took to keep the frightening thoughts away. In the meantime— “Yo, a vodka martini, extra dirty!” he called out loudly to the bartender. A flurry of shakes later, the shiny glass was slid over to him and he downed it in one go. As he lowered the glass, something reflecting off it caught his eye. He snapped his head around to find whatever it was he’d seen.
All the air in his lungs was knocked hard out of him as his arousal viciously kicked him in his gut when his eyes landed on them. He had been taken hostage by the singularly most exquisite pair of eyes he had ever been blessed enough to behold. The slightly upturned eyes were boring scorching holes into his own, a predatory gleam shimmering beneath their umber surface. He was paralyzed, a deer caught in the headlights of the man’s magnetic gaze. The adrenaline flooding his body made his heart pound hard, each whoosh of blood rushing past his ears roaring louder than the music. His instincts were screaming at him to run the fuck away, yet his body adamantly refused to obey their orders. The other man made the decision for him when he severed their connection by sliding his hypnotic eyes away from those of his prey.
BamBam’s body snapped into action. Scrambling out of his swing, he struggled to keep his breathing even and legs steady as he worked his way to the back of the club. Anxiously, he jabbed his finger against the call button of the elevator that led to highly exclusive VIP suites of the club; only the most powerful and influential of patrons were allowed to enter, let alone reserve an entire suite to themselves. Whoever this mystery man was, BamBam was certain of two things: He was incredibly wealthy and he was incredibly gorgeous. Just his type. Once in the elevator, he set about primping himself—ruffling his hair to evoke he’d just risen from a toss in the sheets, smudging the edges of his kohl liner to enhance his smoldering irises, biting hard on his plush lips to make them swell just enough to make it seem as if they were begging to be kissed—and gathering up every ounce of confidence and sex appeal he could muster. When the metal doors slowly slid open, he was greeted with those same powerful eyes. His knees threatened to buckle but his gait didn’t bely that as he stepped into the suite.
“You were staring at me,” BamBam boldly asserted, evenly staring down the reclined man. Minseok flicked his intoxicating eyes up from the rim of his glass toward the boy stood in front of him. “Was I?” he questioned simply. His voice was like a gentle melody floating easily and clearly above the pitter-patter of raindrops cascading onto a window, but the commanding edge beneath the sweet tone was like a roll of thunder promising righteous destruction to any who dared not to bend to his will. BamBam could have dropped to his hands and knees right then and there. By some miracle, though, he didn’t. Instead, he nodded, “You were.” “How rude of me.” “Incredibly rude of you.” BamBam smirked as he lowered himself into the seat across from the other. “Guess it’s a good thing I liked it.” Minseok lifted a perfectly groomed brow. “You did, did you?” “Very much so.” “Should I continue?” “Absolutely.” It was Minseok’s turn to smirk now. “And if I don’t want to?” “Your eyes will me miss me.” Minseok tilted his head slightly, his smirk stretching wider across his lips and eyes glinting wickedly. “Shall we test that theory?” “My name’s BamBam.” “Xiumin,” Minseok lied smoothly. “No, it’s not,” BamBam asserted. “It’s not.” “Then what is it?” “A secret.” “I’m very good at figuring out people’s secrets.” “Are you?” “I am.” BamBam rose from his seat to saunter toward the other man, careful to swing his hips just so in order to emphasize the graceful way his body could move with the right touch, and perched himself on the left armrest of Minseok’s chair. Gently, he ghosted his fingertips up the back of the elder’s hand to encircle his wrist so he could pull it across his lap to rest against his thigh. Dipping his head, he rasped, “I can show you just how good I am. Go on. Ask me a question.” Minseok hummed low in his chest as he flexed his hand for a split second, dull nails just barely digging into the surprisingly muscular flesh beneath it, before he leaned forward to pour himself another drink. “What do you think I am?” “Sexy,” BamBam quipped. “Is that all?” Minseok feigned hurt as he swirled the ice around in his glass. “I could name a few other things, but I’m not going to.” “Why not?” “Because I don’t want to.” Minseok clicked his teeth, “That’s not very nice of you, BamBam.” The way his name seemed to roll so smoothly off the other’s tempting tongue sent a flurry of icy shards to spike through BamBam’s veins. It took everything in him not to shudder. There was something so...undeniably powerful about this man that just made him want to cave in and beg to be taken hard right then and there. God, he was so weak for him and he didn’t even know a goddamn thing about him. He needed to regain control of himself. “You’re obviously insanely wealthy or else you wouldn’t be in this suite. Korean is your native tongue but you’re not an ambassador--I know all of the ambassadors and you’re far too hot to be one regardless. You’ve gotta be a businessman, probably doing a lot of dealings with China which is why you said your name was Xiumin. Are you a businessman?”
“I don’t know,” Minseok drawled. “Are you looking for a job?”
Squaring his shoulders, BamBam plucked the glass from Minseok’s hand just as the other was lifting it to his lips and swallowed the chilled liquid down, not even batting an eye as it scorched a fiery path down the back of his throat. “I’m not looking for a job and I’m not looking for a sugar daddy,” he asserted, “I’ve got more than enough money on my own.” Minseok didn’t even blink. “Good for you because I’m not looking for a fucktoy.” “Then what are you looking for?” “What do you think?” he countered coolly as he signaled his private waiter to bring him another glass. “Something...different.” BamBam’s heart thudded away heavily in his ears as his mind drowned in the overwhelming sensation that was just being in Minseok’s vicinity. The strobing lights flashing all around them did their best to fracture the intense trance he was locked in as he let himself slide further under the current of Minseok’s gaze. His skin felt like he’d been doused in gasoline and set alight; and the only one who could keep him from burning up was the very same person fanning his flames.
Minseok shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. “Maybe.” “I’m different,” the younger breathed almost pleadingly. God, he hated the way his voice sounded so desperate and needy; but it couldn’t be helped. He hadn’t been properly fucked in weeks and he was sat next to a fucking sex god.
“Is that so?”
“I could tell you...” BamBam purred as lowly as he could, tongue flicking out to ghost along the shell of Minseok’s ear, before he fluidly slid off the armrest to and strolled to the elevator. “Or you could come find out for yourself.”
Minseok didn’t budge from his seat, gaze holding the other’s steadily once more until the elevator doors slid shut. He turned around in his seat and allowed his eyes to follow the brazen boy as he made his way into the pulsing crowd, a malicious grin spreading across his lips as he carefully watched the little show being put on just for him. Though he didn’t fail to notice another little show happening in the center of the floor. Minseok smirked and silently prided himself on his impeccable plan.
One down, one soon to go.
Jongin was horny, high, and pissed.
Why in the hell had he let his brother talk him into some damn ghost chase was a mystery even to himself. He could’ve been balls deep in the pretty little bottle girl that was so ready to spread wide open him; but no: Ten just had to disappear and BamBam just had to throw a total bitchfit about his missing molly. So there he was, angrily shoving his way through drunken couples sloppily making out with each other and gropey hands trying to tug his hips to me their painfully arrhythmic ones and sweaty bodies pressing hot and heavy against him on all sides. And still no sight of Ten. Jongin swore he’d personally choke the slithery bastard if he found him.
“Fuck it,” he grunted. He was done wasting time searching. He came out to have a good night and that’s exactly what the fuck he was going to do. He pushed his way to the center of the floor and grabbed the body nearest him. His eyes slid shut and gave himself over to the music. He didn’t know how long he had been dancing when the air around suddenly shifted. The hairs on the back of his shot straight up as a bolt of ice shot through him. Dazed, he cracked open an eye. Standing before him was perhaps the singlehandedly most beautiful man. The flashing neon lights seemed to refract like sunlight through stained glass against his porcelain smooth skin, his honey brown strands glowing like a halo to emphasize his angelic features, his cherubic cheeks lightly flushed and sat high above his squared jawline, his nose slender and sloping down into a buttoned curve, his cherried lips resting in the most tempting of pouts, his almond eyes unabashedly staring straight through Jongin’s own hooded ones. Not even Botticelli’s Venus could compare to the beauty stood before him. Everything about the other man was divine.
Jongin wanted to absolutely debauch him.
“Do I know you?” he lowly rasped. Despite the booming music pounding through the place, the two men were close enough to hear each other perfectly clear. “No,” he answered curtly.
Jongin raised a brow and asked, “Do you know who I am?”
Another curt response from those beautiful lips Jongin’s eyes just couldn’t seem to tear away from: “Yes.”
“What’s my name then?”
“Kai.”
“And yours?”
“Suho.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Suho.” Stepping forward, Jongin purred, “Dance with me.” Junmyeon stepped back, maintaining the exact same minute distance between them. His touch was a privilege not a right, a lesson the other would quickly learn. “No.” So he wanted to play hard to get. Well, that was perfectly fine since there was nothing Jongin loved more than a challenge. Jongin tilted his head and slowly crooked the corner of his full lips into a wolfish grin, a hungry glint in his eyes. “I wasn’t asking.” “And I wasn’t accepting.” “Then there shouldn’t be a problem.” “There isn’t a problem.” “Then why are we still talking?” “Because you’re still in my way..” “You’re a cruel man,” Jongin faked a pout, “wounding my pride like this.” Junmyeon didn’t even blink. “You’re a brat, still petulantly demanding things from someone clearly disinterested.” “You’re neither of those things so stop pretending you are,” the taller huskily commanded. “I will,” Junmyeon conceded smoothly, “as soon as you stop pretending you’re anything more than a pillow princess trying to find someone to fuck you hard against a wall until you’re crying.” Jongin leaned back slightly, a salacious grin stretching across his face. “Are you offering?” “No.” “Then I’m not accepting,” the younger shrugged. “Of course not.” “So will you dance with me?” “Why should I?” “Because we’re in the middle of the dance floor and we’re only talking.” “If you’d keep those pretty lips of yours together, then we wouldn’t be.” “Pretty lips, huh?” Jongin’s lips stretched wide enough to push his deep dimples, his most irresistible charm point if he did say so himself, out of hiding. He took a step toward the other man. “That’s not the only pretty thing about me...or the only big thing.” Junmyeon arched an immaculate brow. “Oh really?” “Really.” Jongin reached forward to hook two fingers into the belt loops of Junmyeon’s insanely tight jeans to pull the shorter man against him.
But in the split second his fingers curled around the curved strips, Junmyeon had reached down to grab his wrists and pull the younger forward toward him, the sudden shift throwing Jongin off-balance and allowing Junmyeon to use his momentum to twist him around until his back was pressed flush against Junmyeon’s chest. A gasp left Jongin’s parted pouts as Junmyeon roughly thrust his hips forward and down into a smooth, powerful roll. “You think you’re bigger than me, princess?” he whispered hotly against his captured prey’s neck. Jongin closed his eyes and dropped his head onto Junmyeon’s shoulder, letting his body meld into the deep, rolling waves of the heavy bass thrumming through the electric air as his hips ground temptingly against Junmyeon’s narrower ones. The elder wrapped a strong arm around his tapered waist, caging his golden trophy in the irresistible lure that was his body. He ghosted his lips along the sweaty column of his prey’s neck which dragged a husky moan from those perfectly pillowy lips. “You want more, baby?” he rasped. Jongin’s eyes snapped open, a desperate spark burning brightly in the smoldering depths of his mahogany eyes. “Fuck yes,” he breathed. “Give me everything.” “Oh, I will,” Junmyeon huskily breathed against his ear, “but I have one condition, baby.” “What is it?” “Kiss me.” Jongin spun around swiftly and crashed his lips against Junmyeon’s in a desperate kiss. Junmyeon swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and Jongin happily granted him access, a satisfied moan floating out of him as he was filled with the intoxicating taste of Junmyeon. He was melting, absolutely melting, and he didn’t give a single fuck that he had so easily caved to the elder’s skillful tongue. His skin was covered in millions of electrical sparks sizzling hot and incinerating blazing trails of need all over until his mind was scorched with nothing but images of him spread wide and filled deep and pounded hard and pumped full. “Take me,” he pleaded, his voice almost cracking into a whine. Junmyeon smirked down at him. “Give me your hand.” Jongin immediately presented his palm. “Such a good baby,” Junmyeon cooed before scribbling something down onto the sweaty flesh. Where he’d even gotten a pen from, Jongin didn’t know; and to be perfectly frank, he couldn’t even begin to give a fuck. Not when said pen was being held by a living, breathing replica of Michelangelo’s ‘David’. “Meet me at this address in an hour. Don’t be late.” With that, Junmyeon slinked away into the hazy recesses of the club.
“How much do you need?” Minseok asked.
“One dose, thanks,” Junmyeon answered as he carefully rolled back his sleeve and balled his fist tight. He watched as Minseok carefully prepared the syringe for him before gently pressing the needle into his vein.
“You know,” the chemist started softly as he slowly withdrew the needle, “you don’t need this. You barely had any contact with it.”
Junmyeon nodded, “I know. But it’s just a precaution. And I promised them I would be careful.”
“You’re such a pushover,” he chuckled, giving the younger a light shove. Pushing his glasses back to rest on top of his head, Minseok sat on the stool next to Junmyeon and clapped a hand against the other’s shoulder. “It’s finally ready, Junmyeon.”
Junmyeon beamed at him, “Congratulations, Dr. Kim.” He twisted around in his seat as he glanced down at the steel-crowned face of his watch, the sword-like arms piercing the II and X numerals respectively. “They should be up soon.” Minseok only hummed as he fixed himself another cup of coffee.
As if on cue, a soft groan emanated from the couch. Sitting up, BamBam groggily scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of palms. Minseok stared curiously at the clueless boy, eyes dragging slowly over the bronzed skin as he wondered when the sleeping beauty would fully awaken. “What time is it?” he mumbled to the air.
“It’s 2:52 in the afternoon,” Junmyeon answered smoothly.
BamBam simply hummed in response as he lay back down against the plush, velvety cushions. Junmyeon allowed himself to count down the seconds. Tick, tick, tick…
BamBam’s eyes flew wide open as the unfamiliar voice fully registered in his sleep-addled brain. He bolted upright onto his feet as he stared wildly at the pair of men elegantly leaned against the bar in the hotel suite’s kitchen. (If his body wasn’t on high-alert and panicked, he would have complimented them on their immaculate suits. Later on, however, he’d hazard a guess they were custom Atelier Versace). “Jongin!” he hissed, roughly shoving his foot into his brother’s side. “Wake the fuck up!”
“Fivemoreminutes…” Jongin drawled as he extended a long arm to swat a hand at BamBam’s leg.
“No, no, it’s alright. Let him get his beauty rest,” Minseok assured in that honeyed voice of his that sent a wave of inexplicable arousal through BamBam. ‘Now is not the time,’ he snappily thought to himself as he willed his body to keep calm.
Junmyeon’s countdown began again. Tick, tick, tick… Jongin lurched off the couch like a man reborn and spun wildly until he was facing the imposing pair. “Who in the fuck are you?!” he snarled viciously, his normally gentle eyes hardened into coal and teeth bared as he pushed BamBam behind him protectively. “How the fuck did you get in here?!” Behind him, BamBam was reaching for the burner phone he never thought he’d need that their security detail had discreetly tucked away into one of the hollowed legs of the table.
“Looking for this?” Minseok lilted in that intoxicatingly sweet voice of his as he twirled the burner phone on the smooth surface of the countertop.
“If you do anything to us,” the younger threateningly began as he stepped from around his brother, an intense fury marring his boyish features, “our father will have you killed.”
Junmyeon chuckled once humorlessly. “My dear boy, we could have your father killed in an instant if I looked the wrong way. Your threats mean nothing to us.”
“Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?” Jongin growled once more, his husky voice almost feral in tone and his words barbed with hostility.
Minseok rose from his stool and sauntered over toward the two boys as he spoke, “My name is Dr. Kim Minseok and this is my business partner Kim Junmyeon.” He waved a hand toward the couch, “Please, won’t you sit?” Almost against their minds’ wills, the two brothers obediently lowered themselves onto the couch.
“Minseok and I have been searching for quite some time for the perfect...spokespersons for our organization’s newest product; we think we’ve found that in you.” Junmyeon came to stand beside the chemist as he further explained, “Last night we happened to run into your friend Ten who told us about your little problem, which we fixed for you by giving you a taste of Nightshade, Minseok’s own creation. As you experienced firsthand, it’s an exceptionally exquisite drug of far superior quality than any drug—designer or pedestrian—either of you will ever ingest. It gives you all of the high, none of the fall.” Junmyeon paused, his carefully coached smile falling just slightly exactly as he had rehearsed earlier as he checked his watch. “Well...that’s not exactly true in your case. You see, Minseok’s quite proud of his product as he rightfully should be and we wanted to make sure we found the right people to be its face, so we needed a bit of an insurance policy.”
Minseok leaned downward to press the back of his hand against Jongin’s furrowed brow before doing the same to BamBam. He peered closely into both boys’ eyes. Nodding once, he stepped back. “5...4...3...2...1.”
BamBam lurched forward to fall on the floor on his hands and knees as his stomach slammed itself back against his spine, forcing a rough dry heave out of him that left him gasping for air. Jongin was immediately at his side, sweat-slick palms desperately rubbing erratic circles into his brother’s back. “What the fuck did you do to him?!” he cried out brokenly, his stomach twisted tight into pretzeled knots as his body began to be wracked with chills. “Fucking tell me!”
“He’s experiencing withdrawal,” Minseok calmly stated. “You both are.”
“W-what?”
“Withdrawal,” Minseok repeatedly slowly as he coolly watched the boys crumble bit by bit beneath him. “Last night you were given a very specific strain of Nightshade: The high is just as intense as its regular version; however, its potency is far higher, making it far more addictive than its counterpoint and even heroin or methamphetamine. Even though you’ve had just one hit of it, your body is suffering as if you’ve been addicted to it for your entire lives.” The chemist slid a small leather pouch from the interior pocket of his jacket.
Junmyeon knelt down until he was eye-level with them, “Don’t worry. What Minseok gives, he can take away. You see the pouch he has? Inside of it is the antidote for this strain. If he administers it to you in the next two minutes, your symptoms will end; if not, they’ll continue to escalate until you’ve drowned in your own spittle.” BamBam weakly reached out toward the table but Junmyeon simply knocked his hand away with a wave of his finger. “Not so fast there, kiddo. You haven’t agreed to our deal yet.”
“W-what d-do you w-want?” BamBam managed to croak as he forced himself to look up at Junmyeon. The action proved too strenuous and his forearm gave out, leading him collapse into a slumped heap with the side of his face colliding hard with the chilled tile floor.
“It’s not about what we want; it’s about what you want. We can give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of and in return, all you have to do is say ‘yes.’”
Continue...
—Admin Lily
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