"How do you raise a house full of psychopaths, Dr. Choi?" she asked, looking back through the glass at the small boy.
"Very carefully, Dr. Min. Very carefully."
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Jeonghan entered his shop through the front office. From there, he could see the counter where he helped his customers and his work space with the hydraulic lift. He could also see the large space he kept available for friends. It had a massive television and a tattered, comfy wrap around sofa where more than one of them had camped on bad nights. He and his brother, Jimin, had small rooms upstairs.
He was unsurprised to see Jimin and Sunwoo sitting on the couch, screaming at each other around gales of laughter as they played some game on the PlayStation. Sunwoo was easy to spot with his aqua-colored hair. As Jeonghan watched, his brother launched to his feet before crashing back onto the couch, as if that could encourage the character on the screen to do what he wanted. The action had his brother's strangely flowy printed top falling off one slender shoulder.
He ignored them, leaving his office to walk to the sink, unable to wipe the stupid smile off his face.
He had no idea what happened back in that cabin, but he couldn't remember a time when he'd ever come so hard from a fumbling handjob. But it wasn't the act that had gotten him, it was the man behind it. There had been something so goddamn hot about that man, red hair and big brown eyes and dimples that disappeared when he flushed with embarrassment...or from an orgasm. It had been so easy.
All Jeonghan had done was put the offer on the table; it was Seungcheol who made the first move, drawing him in, kissing him hard. He'd been so tightly wound, so conflicted. It was like something snapped and all that repression and conflict had just exploded out of him, becoming this wildly desperate act. Jeonghan was just grateful he'd been on the other end of it.
He smiled a little wider. It was always the buttoned up ones that were freaks in bed, and the whole way home, Jeonghan couldn't stop picturing himself taking the man apart a piece at a time until he was shivering and begging to be fucked. He bet, with just the right amount of pressure, his little ginger psychopath would do dirty, dirty things for him.
Jeonghan snorted when he realized he was getting hard all over again. Shit. It was a shame he couldn't see him again. He splashed water on his face, pulling a clean paper towel from the dispenser above and blotting it dry. He realized too late that the noises of the game had stopped. He turned to find the boys standing directly behind him, like something out of a horror movie, their expressions quizzical.
"What's up?" he asked hesitantly, leaning against the dirty wooden countertop, crossing his arms over his chest.
"You good?" Sunwoo asked in English, his Korean accent seeping into his words.
Jeonghan frowned at the blue-haired boy. "Yeah, why?"
Once more, Jimin and Sunwoo exchanged glances. He was used to his brother's judgey face. He'd come out of the womb looking at everybody like they were beneath him. But it was odd seeing the look on Sunwoo. His father had been an enforcer for the Chinese mob and he was a twenty-two-year-old murderer. Glass houses and all that.
