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"You're so fake, you know," Wonwoo shakes his head, resting his chin on his palm as he watches Minghao shoot the target straight at the head—bullseye. "I wonder who's bullet that belongs to..." He thinks aloud, Minghao reloading the chamber with only one bullet. He spins it multiple times, putting the barrel up to his temple with a playful grin. Wonwoo raises his eyebrow, amused. The younger puts down the gun with a sigh."I don't know, I was thinking of pulling it on Seungcheol; do a little Russian roulette as a warning," Minghao aims for the target, pulling the trigger. An empty click. "He's nearing the 500k won mark. He needs to pay up soon.""And if it just so happens to be a bullet that comes out?" Wonwoo asks, intrigued, leaning into his palm to observe Minghao's form when shooting his gun."Then it's his problem," Minghao shrugs, pulling the trigger once more."Glad to hear you actually checking the payment tracks first and not scaring off our clients, as per usual," Wonwoo gets up from his seat, walking up from behind Minghao, who still aims for the target. He places his hand over Minghao's, lowering the gun down as his other hand rests on the younger's hip."I wonder what would his reaction be when his innocent, little friend turns out to be working for me," he whispers into Minghao's ear, the boy physically melting by Wonwoo's hand that rubs soft circles into his hipbone. "How well you have them wrapped around your fingers," he kisses down Minghao's neck, stopping at the collar of his shirt. The older's fingers slip under Minghao's shirt."Move any further and you're dead," Minghao retaliates, jabbing the gun beneath Wonwoo's chin. Wonwoo, unfazed, lowers his hand with a taunting smirk."Do it," Wonwoo says, his tone mocking every fiber of Minghao's being. The latter's hand trembles. There's a one in sixth chance Wonwoo, the next-in-line gang boss of one of the biggest drug cartels in the city of Seoul, will die to the hands of his own personal assassin. Why does the thought sound so ironically appealing?On a whim, Minghao drops the gun and launches himself forward, attacking Wonwoo's lips. The latter plants his hands on Minghao's hips in an attempt to balance him, but ending up stepping backwards into the table. He groans, hands riding up Minghao's sides, under his shirt. The younger takes Wonwoo's hands out of his shirt, biting down noticeably hard when he has the other's lip in his teeth. He runs his tongue over the bite as some sort of apology, though Wonwoo seems to take offense from it. Minghao lets out a soft gasp when Wonwoo flips their positions, pinning Minghao’s hips against the table, clearly irritated. He presses wet lips against Minghao’s ear, and Minghao shudders, fingers curling around Wonwoo’s shoulders."I let you work for me, payed you extra, gave you a house to live in, let you put a gun up to my head, let you play with me like I'm your toy," Wonwoo spits out, mouth laying kisses until he travels from Minghao’s ear down to his neck, breath so hot against Minghao’s skin it sends shivers down the boy's spine. He whimpers when a certain sensitive spot on his neck is kissed, fingers digging into Wonwoo’s shoulders, toes curling. Wonwoo clicks his tongue with an admonishing tut.“Never once have you returned those favors," the older growls threateningly. The tips of his cold fingers run down from Minghao’s quivering Adam's apple down to his collarbones, pushing the collar of Minghao's shirt down to reveal more skin. Wonwoo leans down to bite into the exposed skin, making sure he leaves a mark. Minghao's nails dig into Wonwoo's shoulders, the tiniest gasp escaping his lips unwarranted."I guess I'll just have to be patient," Wonwoo shrugs with a smirk, pulling away from Minghao and towards the exit of the indoor gun range. He kicks Minghao's gun from where he dropped it on the floor, the gun sliding over to the Chinese boy’s feet. Wonwoo stops at the door, looking down at his side so just a sliver of Minghao is in his peripherals."If he doesn't spit out the money by Wednesday, shoot him. No Russian roulette."Minghao waits for anything else Wonwoo wants to say, waits for Wonwoo to leave the room before he picks up the gun and does something he’ll regret. The air is thick with unsaid words produced by both parties. Minghao struck a nerve—Wonwoo's mad now. Minghao keeps his mouth shut tight, nodding only when he needs to. The bite on his shoulder burns."Yes, Wonwoo."