Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Wonwoo Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: Assassins/Spies AU; mentions of blood, gun violence, blood Permission to remix: Yes
***
Jeonghan’s eyes are like a feral animal’s. Wild and wide, silver dances between his fingers as he circles Wonwoo. Wonwoo has to wonder who this is for—the agency or for themselves? The greater game that goes past who their employers are, who they are when their feet are back on domestic soil. Here, in Europe, they’re enemies. Supposedly. Wonwoo catches sight of the ring on Jeonghan’s left hand and knows the game has changed.
Wonwoo's wrists are tied back, but the knots had been easy enough to undo while Jeonghan had considered the options. Death isn't one of them. Sure, Wonwoo’s now-buttoned up shirt conceals a gunshot wound, through and through, but it was carefully laced up with nimble fingers. No blood but radial pain, shooting up to his jaw and down into his fingertips.
The last thing Wonwoo remembers before the ambush is a cafe. A drop point in public to prevent this exactly, but Jeonghan’s partner is ruthless and had slipped him something in the double espresso.
Little do they know that the drop had been made hours prior.
Jeonghan looks unassuming in his street clothing, zip-up hoodie hanging loosely off one shoulder and his grey sweatpants swallowing the legs Wonwoo had wrapped around him just a handful of hours before.
Of course, ‘before’ was a continent away, not in this dank warehouse off the beaten path. Jeonghan is far too clever to leave a trail unless he wants to be found.
“Hi, honey.”
Wonwoo snorts, then spits the blood at Jeonghan’s feet. “You’ve been following me since Prague.”
Jeonghan steps gingerly over the splatter, crouching so they're eye to eye. His face is a marless canvas, a warm powder scent wafting off his skin. It's instinct, to want to lean forward and sink his teeth into Jeonghan’s skin.
Instead, he grins. Jeonghan returns it.
“You know I can't let you get to that server before we do.”
“Oh, is that what you're after?” Wonwoo says, light, trying to keep the smugness out of his voice.
Jeonghan’s smile falters but doesn't drop. “What did you do, hm?”
One of his hands comes to rest on Wonwoo’s shoulder. His fingers press into the covered stitches. Wonwoo’s eyes sting.
“Tell me.”
“It's over, Jeonghan.” The pressure increases.
“Wrong answer.”
Jeonghan circles the chair again, leaving only a cloud of his light cologne. His fingers trail from Wonwoo’s hurt shoulder to the other. Unharmed, for now.
“It's the only answer.”
A hand cups Wonwoo’s chin, holding his head back, crown pressed to Jeonghan’s sternum. It would be easy to break out of, but he tilts his head back further in offering.
“Don't you wanna know how I did it?” Wonwoo smirks.
Something firm presses against his Adam’s apple, an insignificant weight that makes it a little harder to swallow. A finger drags up and down the column of Wonwoo’s throat. It would be loving if it weren't for the knife.
“You learned all of your tricks from me.” Jeonghan’s eyes are devoid of any emotion, but Wonwoo looks into them and winks.
“My muse.”
“I think I liked you better when I thought you were a bookseller,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice. The knife doesn’t fall away, but Jeonghan’s hand shifts from a firm hold on his chin. A thumb strokes his cheek.
In any other circumstance, this is where they would be kissing. But Jeonghan can't walk away empty handed, something Wonwoo knows so well.
“You’re gonna have to strip me to find the flash drive,” Wonwoo says, knowing good and well that all there is underneath is his own desire.
Jeonghan makes a thoughtful noise, folding over Wonwoo’s good shoulder to whisper in his ear. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
[REMIX] my body caved to you
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Assassins/Spies AU; mentions of blood, gun violence, blood
Permission to remix: Yes
***
Jeonghan’s eyes are like a feral animal’s. Wild and wide, silver dances between his fingers as he circles Wonwoo. Wonwoo has to wonder who this is for—the agency or for themselves? The greater game that goes past who their employers are, who they are when their feet are back on domestic soil. Here, in Europe, they’re enemies. Supposedly. Wonwoo catches sight of the ring on Jeonghan’s left hand and knows the game has changed.
Wonwoo's wrists are tied back, but the knots had been easy enough to undo while Jeonghan had considered the options. Death isn't one of them. Sure, Wonwoo’s now-buttoned up shirt conceals a gunshot wound, through and through, but it was carefully laced up with nimble fingers. No blood but radial pain, shooting up to his jaw and down into his fingertips.
The last thing Wonwoo remembers before the ambush is a cafe. A drop point in public to prevent this exactly, but Jeonghan’s partner is ruthless and had slipped him something in the double espresso.
Little do they know that the drop had been made hours prior.
Jeonghan looks unassuming in his street clothing, zip-up hoodie hanging loosely off one shoulder and his grey sweatpants swallowing the legs Wonwoo had wrapped around him just a handful of hours before.
Of course, ‘before’ was a continent away, not in this dank warehouse off the beaten path. Jeonghan is far too clever to leave a trail unless he wants to be found.
“Hi, honey.”
Wonwoo snorts, then spits the blood at Jeonghan’s feet. “You’ve been following me since Prague.”
Jeonghan steps gingerly over the splatter, crouching so they're eye to eye. His face is a marless canvas, a warm powder scent wafting off his skin. It's instinct, to want to lean forward and sink his teeth into Jeonghan’s skin.
Instead, he grins. Jeonghan returns it.
“You know I can't let you get to that server before we do.”
“Oh, is that what you're after?” Wonwoo says, light, trying to keep the smugness out of his voice.
Jeonghan’s smile falters but doesn't drop. “What did you do, hm?”
One of his hands comes to rest on Wonwoo’s shoulder. His fingers press into the covered stitches. Wonwoo’s eyes sting.
“Tell me.”
“It's over, Jeonghan.” The pressure increases.
“Wrong answer.”
Jeonghan circles the chair again, leaving only a cloud of his light cologne. His fingers trail from Wonwoo’s hurt shoulder to the other. Unharmed, for now.
“It's the only answer.”
A hand cups Wonwoo’s chin, holding his head back, crown pressed to Jeonghan’s sternum. It would be easy to break out of, but he tilts his head back further in offering.
“Don't you wanna know how I did it?” Wonwoo smirks.
Something firm presses against his Adam’s apple, an insignificant weight that makes it a little harder to swallow. A finger drags up and down the column of Wonwoo’s throat. It would be loving if it weren't for the knife.
“You learned all of your tricks from me.” Jeonghan’s eyes are devoid of any emotion, but Wonwoo looks into them and winks.
“My muse.”
“I think I liked you better when I thought you were a bookseller,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice. The knife doesn’t fall away, but Jeonghan’s hand shifts from a firm hold on his chin. A thumb strokes his cheek.
In any other circumstance, this is where they would be kissing. But Jeonghan can't walk away empty handed, something Wonwoo knows so well.
“You’re gonna have to strip me to find the flash drive,” Wonwoo says, knowing good and well that all there is underneath is his own desire.
Jeonghan makes a thoughtful noise, folding over Wonwoo’s good shoulder to whisper in his ear. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”