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The faint sound of scratching intruded upon Gi-hun’s ears, a perfectly manicured fingernail tracing one of too many notes spewn across a map of subway stations.
“All of this for me, Mr. Seong? My, dedicated in your hunt you have been, meticulous , I'll give you. Though, a bit…” The skittering of stacked paper against the pad of his thumb. “...excessive.”
At some point during their game, the maniac started perusing around in between rounds. More specifically, directly after draping himself across the table, taking the gun down his throat, and pulling the trigger .
The grandeur of it all made for a dangerous concoction, paired with the merciless eye contact, it proved more effective than even the craftiest of knots decorating bound ankles.
The musing of the Salesman only pushed Gi-hun further on edge. He scoffed in response, drowning that obnoxious scratching with the clatter of the gun sliding off the table and into his hand.
“Sit down so we can finish this already.” To punctuate his point, he aimed the gun at the Salesman’s back. An empty threat – and possibly chamber, but his behavior within the last minute alone displayed there was no limit to his unpredictability.
The Recruiter had the gall to glance back and smile , flashing pearly white teeth and blood splatter on his cheek. His expression held glee unbefitting a situation with a gun pointed at him, and possibly more dangerous, a man wielding it with more than enough motive to put finger to trigger. Even so, he paid the unspoken threat no mind, returning to his browsing within the next few beats.
“For a man with so many last moments taken from him, you certainly are eager to speed up yours.”
Two years ago, perhaps even just one, Gi-hun would’ve had his throat for all his sly words and condescending grins. When he was first released from those games, he held so much anger – a disgusting manifestation of all the grief and guilt and hurt .
He still had it, bottled up somewhere, but the years of this man eluding him year and year again disciplined him in a way he only came to realize now. Flying off the handle would only put more control in the Salesman’s hand, precisely what he craved.
“Who’s to say it won’t be yours?” Gihun shot right back, though regrettably only in a metaphorical sense.
An amused rise and fall of padded shoulders, dress shoes spinning himself around to face Gi-hun. “It very well could be.” He took long, confident strides towards the seated man, red light illuminating him. “What’s the matter? Is your mind starting to race? Now your odds of death are now 1 in 2.”
The Salesman leaned over him, propping himself up with a palm against the table, effectively pressing the gun to the center of his own chest. Gravity supplied a loose strand falling out of slicked hair and onto his forehead.
Always invading Gi-hun's space, his life, his patience .
The Recruiter’s leg rose and bent, his foot landing on the empty space of the chair where Gi-hun’s were spread.
“That’s pretty high indeed. I’m sure you’re afraid, lots going through your mind.” A tilt of his head. “Let me guess what you’re thinking right now. The gun is in my hand. Screw the rules. Pull the trigger once or twice, and I can blow a hole right through this guy’s chest.”
For emphasis, he wrapped a hand around the barrel and drew it even closer, pushing the muzzle against himself.
“Isn’t that right? If you want to meet the person you mentioned earlier, the key is in my pocket. You can simply shoot me with that gun and take it. But I’ll have you admit one thing.” A grin spread across his face, a small twitch upwards of one of his eyebrows. “That you’re a piece of trash, just like everyone else. A piece of trash who got lucky and made it out of the dumpster.”
There was a glint in his eyes, a sick sense of satisfaction even with a gun flush against his chest.
Gi-hun’s hardened expression was unwavering. He gave an unamused glare, fighting the gun out of the Salesman’s hold to bring it up to his temple. Made of stone Gi-hun was not, he still trembled, he showed hesitance, hell, he even considered the Recruiter’s taunt. But that’s not who he is.
Click .
Nothing.
His shoulders slumped in relief, pressing the side of the gun harshly against the Salesman’s chest to force him to hold it.
In stark contrast to Gi-hun’s demeanor, the Recruiter wavered immediately with realization that the occupied chamber was his.
His face fell and his mouth parted. He leaned away, straightening, treating the gun in his hand as if a foreign object, in opposition to the casual familiarity he regarded it with previously.
A voice cut through his racing thoughts.
“What’s the matter?”
The Salesman’s eyebrows quirked up.
“Is your mind starting to race?” Gi-hun mimicked. “That’s right. Screw the rules. Now, with a single pull of the trigger, you could kill me. But I’ll have you admit one thing.” He leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees.
“You put a mask over your face and do whatever your master says. You run, bark, and wag your tail for them. You’re nothing more than their dog.”
An iteration of those same cold, bitter words that once so confidently flowed from the Salesman’s mouth shot right back at him, but he wasn’t mad.
No, he had never looked so elated.
He cracked a sort of half grin, sparing only a glance to the gun before setting it back on the table.
“Do you know what it is I like about these games, Mr. Seong?”
His eyes continued their merciless pursuit as he fell to his knees before him, dirtying his slacks and putting a crease in polished dress shoes.
“It’s the one place where I and lowly garbage like you are on the same level.”
With that, he glanced down to Gi-hun’s crotch, that of which he didn’t realize had a noticeable tent until that moment.
Shit. When did that happen? When the tip of the Salesman's shoe was barely ghosting the area just moments earlier, or perhaps even longer ago when he took the gun in his mouth and had the nerve to maintain eye contact while he did it?
“You’re disgusting.” Gi-hun leaned away with furrowed brows.
The Recruiter was unphased, laying his hands neatly on his own thighs, perfect posture. “And what would that make you?” He rebutted, unmistakingly amused and utterly unoffended.
A scoff came from the seated man. “You’re on borrowed time.”
“I am inclined towards ventures that are mutually beneficial.” The Salesman’s eyes flickered up at him. “If you’re of the same belief.”
“ Mutually beneficial.” Gi-hun repeated in disbelief, mulling the words around with doubt he ever heard them at all. “Is this what you do? You lose and you fall to your knees and beg for your life. You really are their obedient errand boy.”
A scene that would’ve garnered sympathy from Gi-hun some time ago left him with nothing but sheer and utter disgust. Not when he saw genuine desperation so close first hand, knew the feeling intimately, even.
People in teal tracksuits begging to go home, promising to pay their debts before pink guards, and the gut feeling the Salesman would’ve derived sick pleasure from the sight. He was the very reason they were there, after all. Truly a full circle moment.
It seemed he wasn’t all that different from the lowly garbage he schemed to eradicate.
Then came something Gi-hun never could’ve expected, even with the Salesman’s already notorious history of erratic behavior. He laughed . Low and polite despite everything coming out of his mouth having been anything but, all while shaking his head.
“It seems you’ve misunderstood me.”
Gi-hun tensed.
“Certainly you remember when we first met.” A glance at the note-covered subway map. “When you finally won a game of ddakji, you were awarded ₩100,000 and a business card, correct?”
The Salesman straightened before continuing, unbothered to hear a response. “You were so eager to slap me back, you almost missed the money.” He smiled, almost fondly, though unmissable condescension coated every word. “I have no intention of disputing my loss. You have the business card in my pocket, but I seemed to have misplaced my briefcase along the way.”
Patience wearing thin, Gi-hun snapped. “Get to the point.”
“I have no money to offer, just like you, all those years ago.” The suited man leaned closer, breath so close to Gi-hun’s crotch it was nearly tangible. “I suppose I’ll have to pay with my body.”
Gi-hun’s breath caught in his throat, locking eyes with the pair below him, lidded and peering through dark eyelashes, and he got impossibly harder . He grit his teeth, nails digging unforgivingly into his own thighs, as if to subdue his desires.
“So you’re just a whore then.”
“You can think whatever you’d like about the games, Mr. Seong,” The Salesman disputed. “but you cannot deny that they are fair.”
Gi-hun didn’t dignify his statement with a rebuttal. Someone like him could never understand the true horrors from behind a mesh mask or a businessman facade.
“How do I know I can trust you?” He demanded, furrowing his brows.
He didn’t know why he was even entertaining this. It was as though his voice was acting out of its own accord, treacherously verbalizing his deepest thoughts and most sinful of needs. With every passing moment, Gi-hun found himself hopelessly enraptured by the Salesman’s proposition, and it was beginning to sound like a siren’s song.
“The gun.” The Recruiter replied smoothly, near instantaneously, as though he were waiting for the opportunity to this whole time. A terrible thought that went straight to Gi-huns dick. “Consider it insurance. If you find my performance unsatisfactory, it’s just a single pull of the trigger.”
Gi-hun exhaled sharply, his mind unhelpfully supplying reminders of the gun deep down the Salesman’s throat and the damn smile that followed the blank round. “That just sweetens the deal for you, doesn’t it?” He sneered.
The thought of killing someone for something as inoffensive as a mediocre blowjob made him shutter. Sure, Gi-hun hated the man, despised him even, but he wasn’t cruel. Though, given who the Recruiter’s superior was, there’s no doubt he’s witnessed underlings being taken out for less.
Despite his inner turmoil, Gi-hun slid the gun back into his grasp, if only for his own safety. Insurance.
In turn, he received a pleased hum, vibrations only centimeters from the tent in his pants.
“I repay my debts by any means necessary.” The Salesman refuted, feigning innocence, before following up with: “You can understand that, can’t you, Mr. Seong?”
One thing was for certain, he knew how to use that cunning mouth of his to make people wish he was choking on a mouthful of cock instead.
“Hurry up.” Gi-hun instructed, loosely pointing the weapon down and in the Recruiter’s direction for emphasis. For even some semblance of control, he had to claw for it. Despite the other male being quite literally below him, he held the same air of self righteousness on his knees as he did towering over Gi-hun only minutes prior. That even though this was victory, he was still wrapped around calloused fingers.
Par for the course, the Recruiter was incredibly proficient at taking orders, when he wanted to be. He got to work, immediately leaving Gi-hun breathless for the umpteenth time that evening.
Instead of going in with his hands, the Salesman undressed him from waist down with his teeth .
A button. A zipper. One layer tugged by the hem, then another, pooling around Gi-hun’s ankles.
It wasn’t without its bite, the Salesman being unbothered that his teeth scraped against skin on his descent downwards, causing Gi-hun to grit his. His cock stood tall and aching when the suited man finally lifted his head.
He straightened, pressing his thumb atop his slit and coating the head with the generous amount of precum in circular motions, earning a groan. His hand moved further down, laving what was left onto the rest of his cock.
The way he went about it was so methodical, practiced, like this was simply part of his job description listed alongside recruitment and slapping people . His hand was cold, like he truly was just another cog in a bigger machine.
Finally, after what felt like ages of feather-light touches and convoluted dirty talk, the Salesman swirled his sly tongue around Gi-hun’s leaking tip, a firm hand at the base.
“Is this what your mind went to, Mr. Seong?” A long, tortuous stripe from the base to the head, then yet another circular motion around it. “When I put the gun in my mouth.” He clarified, the words coming out as hot breath against his throbbing cock.
Gi-hun dug the fingernails of his free hand unforgivingly into the chair, beyond pent up and irritated and desperate. “You wanted this, you bastard.” He swore under his breath. “Enough with the games.”
A knowing smirk spread against his tip before it parted, easing his erection inch by inch into wet heat and hollowed cheeks straight from hell, while calloused hands worked at whatever wasn’t with skilled flicks of the wrist.
Gi-hun expected him to lift then, catch his breath for a moment or two, but no. The Recruiter took him to the hilt , flush against the back of his throat, no semblance of a gag reflex in sight. Of-fucking-course.
The seated man threw his head back at the sudden wave of stimulation to his long-neglected dick, groaning with abandon. Not like the discarded love hotel had any other inhabitants to bother, and even if so, this would be an activity more than appropriate for the setting.
The Salesman repeated that same pattern, only growing faster and sloppier by the minute. It was quick, dirty, and infuriatingly effective, if the tell-tale signs of an impending orgasm were anything to go by. Clenching hands, beads of sweat, noises increasing in volume.
But the whole evening had been on the Recruiter’s time, by his rules, playing out in the palm of his hand, quite literally, and something deep within Gi-hun couldn’t have that.
When the Salesman next glanced up, he was met with a hand in his hair, tugging him upwards, and the cold metal of a muzzle pressing a loose strand against his forehead. Even through the red tint of the room, Gi-hun swore he saw the other male’s pupils dilate. Sick freak.
It was a repair to the old ego to see the suited man looked utterly debauched, a far cry from the pristine– albeit blood splattered, condition he first arrived in. His lips showed clear signs of use, puffy, red, moistened with a mixture of spit and pre-cum. His hair was loose and falling, though no doubt worsened by the hand mussing it up.
The pinnacle of Gi-hun’s misery and desire, completely unrecognizable and fucking gorgeous.
As if to combat his own traitorous thoughts, Gi-hun pressed the muzzle down harder, leaning forward so his elbows were propping himself up on knees. “We’re doing this on my terms, do you understand?” In this proximity, he could feel every pant from the man below him linger on his skin. “Tap my knee twice if you want to stop, you won’t be able to talk.”
In the Recruiter’s eyes, he searched for anything. Hestiance. Fear. Anger. What he was met with?
Pure and utter enthusiasm.
Wrecked lips curved upwards. “Of course .” He responded, drawling the second word, sounding just as ruined as he looked.
The double meaning wasn’t lost on Gi-hun, even in the depths of lustful haze. One agreement , complying to his orders, the other confirmation , like this was to be expected of him.
But he was tired of solving puzzles and decoding messages. The mystic of the games, its coordinators, this man, it was all so damn complicated. Carnal desire, however, was achingly simple, and that’s how he planned to have him.
Shoving his cock back into the Salesman’s awaiting mouth was almost too easy, like he had already carved the shape into him. This time, however, Gi-hun set the unforgiving pace, harsh snaps of his hips, pistoning himself further down the other male’s pliant throat.
He placed the gun back on the table, one hand on the back of the suited man’s neck and the other on the side of his head. He angled his thrusts towards it, relishing in the way he could feel the bulge of his cock on the Salesman’s cheek.
With only a few more languid movements, Gi-hun was spilling into the Recruiter’s mouth with a groan, riding out his orgasm. Though, he didn’t allow himself to bask in the high entirely, trying to maintain some awareness for any sudden movements or tapping of his knee. Yet, neither ever came.
When the onset of overstimulation began creeping up, Gi-hun let go of the Salesman entirely and pulled out. An action of which he didn’t seem to expect, as the loss of support sent him falling on his back.
If Gi-hun was of the belief he looked debauched earlier, filthy would be the only word to befitting of the Salesman now.
He looked winded in his own right, panting, propping himself up loosely by his elbows with spread legs, one bent and lying on its side, the other upright. In between them, an unmistakable wet patch on his crotch that was far too large to be pre-cum soaked alone. He must’ve cum at some point, while Gi-hun was too lost in his own pleasure to notice.
That, or his poker face wasn’t reserved for Russian roulette alone.
Lacking any amount of self preservation or shame, that knowing grin returned to his infuriating face once he noticed that Gi-hun was staring.
Gi-hun regarded him with disdain as he found his bearings, standing and tucking himself back into his pants, regaining some semblance of decency. He cast a shadow over the Salesman, backlit by red light, a pleasant role reversal.
In one smooth motion, Gi-hun leaned down and retrieved the black, ribbon adorned business card from his suit pocket, tucking it securely in one of his own. Straightening, he didn’t pay the Recruiter a second glance before turning towards the door, knowing any lesser of a man would’ve gone weak at the sight.
He paused only briefly before the exit.
“Be gone by the time I get back.”
Letting the multiple interpretations of his words rattle in the Salesman’s hazy mind, Gi-hun left with a slam of the door.