1: one, two
Chapter Text
INITIAL MEETING: JUNE 11TH
Bank Account Balance: ₩3,467,000.28
In the heat of early summer, Kim Dokja saw Yoo Joonghyuk for the very first time. It wasn't true love. True love didn't exist—it was just another name for an excessive amount of desire, capable of sparking a wildfire that would inevitably burn his body to ashes in its wake.
The buzz of the crowd had already begun to die down at the party as the clock struck closer to midnight, and the older man on his arm was speaking to someone about heading out for the evening. Dokja had come to high-class parties like these many times—every occupant at the venue was studded in decorated three-piece suits or elaborate evening gowns. Expensive champagne that he would never dare buy for himself was handed to him in an endless number of delicate flutes. He allowed it to dull his senses ever so slightly, just enough to enjoy himself.
Yoo Joonghyuk was impossible to ignore, amongst it all. His face was bold—a sharp jawline, lightly tanned skin, dark wavy hair, and eyebrows that framed his enigmatic eyes. The scowl on his face was unwavering, never changing regardless of who he spoke to, but on occasion, one edge of his mouth would rise up into a smirk. It was always when he caught Dokja's gaze, where he wouldn't break eye contact even as he raised his glass to his lips. As if he was asking: who do you think you're staring at? Without even needing any words.
Dokja met his eyes time and time again across that last hour he remained at the party. While Joonghyuk wandered throughout the crowd, the one constant was the woman at his side, and a single glance at their hands was enough to notice their matching wedding bands. There was no reason for Dokja to be disappointed at such a sight; he would have been, had he been younger, or more foolish. But a man like that had never been within his reach, and he'd long since learned to contain any desire within him before it burned him away.
At first, Dokja didn't know the man he admired from afar was the Yoo Joonghyuk, Chief Executive Advisor of Protagonist Entertainment . He was the one hosting the event that evening, where one of Dokja's few consistent clients had requested to be accompanied. It was only when his client had brought Dokja up to Joonghyuk, who stood alone without his wife at his side, did he learn the identity of the attractive face that had caught his gaze.
" Sajang-nim ," his client grasped Joonghyuk's hand with a bright smile. "Congratulations on the release of your new franchise. The beta-testing went well, I heard. I'm sure it will be a success."
"Thank you," Joonghyuk said. "It ran very well. We hope to heighten our sales from our most recent release, given the positive reviews."
It was difficult to look away from his face. He continued to spout words of business that Dokja didn't care to listen to, too distracted by his allure to bother. His three-piece suit was all a deep black, with a metallic silver tie to draw the eye. His long, thick fingers held the stem of his champagne glass with a firm grip, lifting it to his mouth to take a sip. Afterward, his tongue darted out to lick his lips, and his gaze strayed toward Dokja.
Shit, Dokja thought, unable to release himself from the arrest of Joonghyuk's eyes. He licked his lips again, making Dokja stiffen. Was that on purpose?
"Who's this, at your side?" Joonghyuk asked, then. His eyes trailed up and down Dokja's body before returning to rest on his face. It was likely obvious that Dokja was not as wealthy as most of the guests; his suit, though well-kept, was not brand name, nor did it match with this year's trends.
"Ah, he's just my companion for the evening; he holds no ties to my company," Dokja's client explained.
"Is that so?" Joonghyuk said, raising an eyebrow.
"Kim Dokja," Dokja reached out his hand before he could reconsider his actions. It was best to avoid drawing attention to his client; all escorts knew to conceal the truth of their services when working.
Joonghyuk's grip was firm, but his palm was cold. "What kind of name is that?"
Dokja's lips drew in a rigid line as he released Joonghyuk's hand. "Do you insult all your guests?" he jabbed before he could rethink his choice of words. It was a mistake to do so, but he couldn't help himself. How did a host have the gall to ask that while greeting a guest at his own event?
"Only those with the most ridiculous names," Joonghyuk said. It almost sounded like he was flirting, but Dokja wasn't ignorant enough to take it that way. "Do I need to introduce myself to you, as well?"
"No need, Yoo Joonghyuk- sshi ," Dokja said, firmly. "I offer my congratulations on your accomplishment."
"Please, no need for formalities," he paused. "I appreciate you taking the time to attend, and I hope you enjoyed your evening." His eyes twinkled in the light, complimenting the smirk on his face.
Dokja narrowed his eyes. What an asshole. Why did he seem so comfortable with that look on his face? If they'd been anywhere else, Dokja would have demanded an answer for his tone of voice. But he was working, where he needed to maintain his composure for the sake of his client—though it was more for the sake of the money landing in his bank account.
It was after that interaction that Dokja's client took his arm and announced their departure. He mentioned something more to Joonghyuk about meeting again, but with how Dokja's champagne suddenly left a bitter taste in his mouth, he didn't care to listen.
FIRST CALL: JUNE 18TH
Bank Account Balance: ₩6,259,058.39
Yoo Joonghyuk called on him the next week. Dokja assumed that his client from the party had shared his information; it was often how he became known amongst people of similar groups. Of all of the people at that party, the last person he would have expected to call on him was Joonghyuk, who seemed as if he hadn't a single care for anyone there.
But Joonghyuk had booked him for the entire night, rather than just for an hour or two like most of his clients. Dokja hadn't had anyone book him for an entire night in at least three years, since he'd been twenty-five—watching the three million won increase in his account had made him close and reopen his banking app three times. The relief that flooded through his veins sent a satisfying warmth to his chest. Paying rent would be easier for another few months.
If Joonghyuk had called on him, especially for an entire night, it meant one of two things. It could be that Dokja was just another overnight escort he'd found to sate his craving for adultery; or, he'd found Dokja attractive enough to want to test out his services.
As if , Dokja thought as he approached the restaurant he was meeting Joonghyuk at. He'd worn a different suit, this time; a brown linen, to compliment his eyes, with a light blue shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants and a black tie. He left the buttons of his suit jacket undone—their dinner, while located at an upscale establishment, was not nearly as formal as the party from before.
When he entered the building, he expected to ask the hostess to lead him to Joonghyuk's private room. He couldn't have expected Joonghyuk to be waiting at the side of the door for him. Dokja halted in his steps at the sight of him, but shifted into the usual demeanor he used for his clients. Plastering a smile on his face as Joonghyuk met his gaze, Dokja approached him.
Hungry eyes grazed on the sight of his body as Joonghyuk's head tilted down and up again, ever so slightly. The edge of his lip twitched as he stepped forward. He was making it so obvious what he was after. Maybe he did find Dokja attractive enough to sleep with. His wallet certainly didn't mind.
"How are you this evening, Yoo Joonghyuk- sshi ?" Dokja asked.
Joonghyuk scoffed. "Didn't I tell you to drop the formalities?" he paused. "Let's go." His hand found its place on Dokja's back, surprisingly gentle, leading him in the direction of wherever their private dining room was.
What? Dokja thought, blinking. He pays for my time and won't even let me do my job?
"Just call me Joonghyuk from now on," his lips brushed Dokja's ear. "Okay?"
Dokja's shoulders tensed, but he nodded. As long as he was keeping the money, he didn't need to question what his client wanted unless it affected his personal safety. For this night, he was a man at Yoo Joonghyuk's side, to use however he wanted within reason. Regardless of if he irritated Dokja already, this was his job.
When they reached the private room and the door slid shut behind them, Dokja took a seat at the small square table in the center of the room. To his surprise, Joonghyuk placed his chair on the side of the table beside Dokja, rather than across from him. Dokja furrowed his brow. Was there any consistency to his actions? Acting rude, but asking to be called by his name, and not bothering to uphold normal seating conventions?
"Did you receive the payment?" Joonghyuk asked, resting his chin in his palm as he leaned his elbows on the table. He didn't care to follow table manners, either?
"I did, thank you," Dokja responded. How am I supposed to act?
"Good."
"May I ask about our plans for the evening?" It was a safe question—one he usually used when he wasn't told beforehand. Though, with the way Joonghyuk had looked him up and down before, Dokja expected that their time would be spent in a hotel.
"Cut that formal tone first."
"I apologize. I'll refrain from repeating it." Dokja was startled again. How many times was Joonghyuk going to surprise him with what he said?
"There it is, again. Have you spent so long on the arm of older men that you've forgotten how to act your age?" Joonghyuk huffed.
Dokja gritted his teeth. "Fuck you. Would it kill you to let me do my job? The one that you just so happen to be paying me to do, just like those older men?"
Joonghyuk smirked. "That's more like it."
"How much younger are you than them, anyway?" Dokja wrinkled his nose, looking at Joonghyuk's face and coming up with a number that would be insulting. "I'd guess thirty-five? Forty?"
"I'm twenty-eight," Joonghyuk paused, his voice low. "Just like you." He had seen Dokja's profile. Along with his age, it had pictures of him and other basic details that people looking for an escort were given.
He didn't seem offended from being called middle-aged, which was disappointing. But maybe being the president of such a large company often had people assuming he was older.
Dokja scoffed. "I should have guessed younger. You act like a child."
"I've never been told that before," Joonghyuk chuckled. "Right now, you're the one acting like a child. Your insults hold no weight. Shouldn't an adult have more class with what they say?"
Dokja's fingers clawed at the table. How did everything this man said make him want to reach out and choke him? Was it the objectively attractive face? Or the way he was able to shut down the insults and turn it back on Dokja, just like that?
Before he could form a response, there was a knock on the door, and it slid open to reveal the face of their server. Contrary to his appearance when they'd been alone, Joonghyuk sat up straight and discussed the selection of dishes he wanted in the way that a wealthy, sophisticated man would. Every word he said signaled high intelligence and a domineering nature. But on top of that, he thanked the server at the end before she could leave, and even if his facial expression was all business, she left a blushing mess.
Dokja wanted to snap his neck even more than before. When the door was shut, Joonghyuk turned to him, his elbows back on the table as the smirk returned to his face. His unabating gaze was filled with a certain playfulness that hadn't been there while the server was in the room.
"You're a fake," Dokja said. Who the fuck is this man?
Joonghyuk clicked his tongue twice. "Only to you."
"You didn't even bother to ask me what I wanted to order." What would be enough to irritate him? Why didn't he react to any of Dokja's insults? All he did was remain unbothered with that obnoxious smirk on his face.
"Wouldn't you have just agreed to whatever I said? Isn't it your job to do so?"
"Fuck you, bastard," Dokja spat.
"I thought so," Joonghyuk said. "Have any of your past clients seen you like this? Or is this persona just for me?"
"As if I would ever act this way with other clients." I wonder if he talks to all his escorts like this.
"That makes us both fake, then."
Dokja huffed, leaning his elbows on the table. He wanted to slap Joonghyuk. Maybe then he would shut up. "You're insufferable."
"You asked about our plans? Lucky for you, most of our night won't be spent talking," Joonghyuk said, leaning in. His eyes searched Dokja's face, falling into a sultry stare. Alongside his smirk, his objectively attractive face made the room seem sweltering. "Have any of your past clients told you how pretty you are?"
"No," Dokja sputtered before he could rethink. They never said anything like that to his face, whether they believed it or not. It was his job to be pretty, but it was never commented on. How did Joonghyuk know that? Was this just another way to rile him up? Maybe he liked it when his escorts acted hateful, just so he could shut them down. Some men were into consensual dissent—acting unwanting, but enjoying the act. It wouldn't be strange for someone of Joonghyuk's wealth and character to like power play.
"That's a shame," Joonghyuk reached out to brush Dokja's hair out of his eyes. His voice lowered into a deeper, seductive tone. "I think you're very pretty. You'll come home with me tonight, won't you?"
Dokja's lips parted as his mouth went dry. Heat rushed to his face. How did Joonghyuk manage such a drastic change in tone so quickly? Did he really not care that Dokja was insulting him earlier?
Joonghyuk hummed. "No retort, this time?" He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "I think the words you're looking for are ' yes, Joonghyuk . ' Am I right?"
Dokja clenched his jaw. Why did he even bother questioning it? Yoo Joonghyuk was just an asshole. It was that simple. Dokja sighed. This is going to be a long night. I can already tell.
Their dinner ended both sooner and not as soon as Dokja would have liked. Every second spent with Joonghyuk drew out a frigid rage on the surface of his skin that no heat would subdue. But every minute spent at the restaurant kept them away from the rest of the night, where he was sure he would be the brunt of some unknown, strange sexual desire. That was how most of his married clients used to be. They wanted an outlet away from their loving wives—who better than the male escort who also took calls for sex?
His contract outright listed everything he wouldn't do, saving him from things that he didn't like or anything that would hurt him. But safe didn't mean he was freed from being made a fool. What would it be, this time? Handcuffs? A blindfold? A skirt?
When they left the restaurant, Joonghyuk took Dokja's hand and led him to his car. It wasn't lavish. It was a Hyundai Sonata , a normal four-door sedan. When he opened the door to the passenger seat, Dokja climbed in, furrowing his brow. Most wealthy men like Joonghyuk had a driver, but he slid in behind the wheel like it was natural.
While he drove, he didn't speak, focusing on the road even as Dokja stared at him. It was different from his demeanor at the restaurant, his expression returning to that same stoic scowl that he'd had at the party the previous week. His right hand settled on Dokja's thigh, static in its place. It didn't shift lower or imply he wanted anything more. But his thumb brushed back and forth against Dokja's knee, so soft he could hardly notice.
When they parked in front of a high-rise apartment building, Dokja let himself out, confused. Weren't they going to a hotel? Didn't Joonghyuk have a wife?
Joonghyuk came around to him and took his hand again, pulling him toward the building. "I have a studio here I use three or four nights a week," he scratched the back of his neck. "My home is on the outskirts of Seoul . It's difficult to travel back and forth every night, when work is closer to here. I often have late night calls to take, as well."
"You're not required to explain yourself to me," Dokja said, pursing his lips. So that was the reason. Everything he'd said until now had been infuriating, but now the air was stifling in a different way. It could have been the tension from the fact that Dokja was being led to have sex with a client for the first time in three years. But really, it felt almost awkward.
Joonghyuk said nothing, leading him into the building. It was clearly high-end as they stepped into an open lobby with plenty of seating space, large windows, and a concierge sitting behind a tall desk. Joonghyuk nodded at the concierge, who nodded back as if confirming his identity as a resident. They boarded the elevator around the corner, where Joonghyuk pressed the button for one of the higher floors.
Dokja tensed at his side. There wasn't much time left. He hadn't done this in a long time. Would it be okay? If Joonghyuk enjoyed it, he might be willing to call again, which would mean more money. Dokja needed to make sure it happened, but all of his usual methods were sure to fall flat. Even when he'd been younger, most of his clients were above forty. What the hell was he going to do with a man that was the same age as him?
"I'm not going to jump you. Relax," Joonghyuk said, returning to the demeanor he'd had at the restaurant. For some reason, the confirmation made Dokja's shoulders fall. Joonghyuk's grip on his hand fell away to wrap around his waist, instead. The brush of his thumb was more obvious, this time, even through his suit jacket.
Dokja cleared his throat. "There are some rules, you know. Did you read the contract, or did you just pass it on to a lawyer?"
"I read it," Joonghyuk led him out of the elevator when it dinged , walking down a carpeted hall with numbered doors until they reached the right one. He unlocked it, opening it for Dokja to step in first, then shut it behind them as they removed their shoes.
The studio, as Dokja expected, was upscale. It had a large main area with a queen sized bed, an L-shaped desk with an oversized desk chair, and a small dining table that sat two. Through an archway was a kitchen in pristine condition—how often was it even used? Joonghyuk didn't seem like he would be able to cook.
Beside the bed, the entire wall was glass, looking out onto the Seoul skyline. Dokja stepped close to it, reaching out to press his fingers to the cold glass. It was late, now—the scene was of vivid lights across buildings encased in darkness, with the moon reflected in the Han River . Streetlights and cars speeding by offered bits of color in the black background. It was pretty, but the sight during the day was sure to be even more beautiful.
"Are you done?" Joonghyuk asked, his hands settling on Dokja's hips from behind. It was a tentative touch, light at first, then firmer. Dokja despised that he liked it. The wedding ring on his left hand was rough against the fabric of his pants. He hadn't expected Joonghyuk to take it off—married men rarely did. His breath was hot on the back of Dokja's neck. "It's prettier in the morning. You'll see it."
"Should I go over the rules? To remind you?" Dokja said, turning around. His heart beat faster. This was really happening. Joonghyuk stepped back, releasing him.
"I only need to know two things," Joonghyuk pulled off his suit jacket and threw it aside. Given how meticulous he seemed, Dokja had expected him to place his clothes back in his closet or into a hamper. Why didn't any of his actions ever match up?
"What?" Dokja followed his lead, unbuttoning his suit coat and letting it fall to the side. The contract should have mentioned everything necessary. What was left?
"How's kissing?" Joonghyuk asked, removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. It slid off his shoulders and glided down to the floor. Dokja bit his lip at the sight of his body. Unlike many of the men that called on him, Joonghyuk was tanned and sinewy, with a lean frame and chiseled abdomen. It complimented his attractive face and hair that looked so soft, Dokja wanted to touch it. But more than that, it made him hate Joonghyuk more.
"Allowed," he said, swallowing the saliva that had gathered in his mouth. No wonder he's married.
Without another word, Joonghyuk stepped forward, clamping hands at his waist. He pressed their lips together and slipped his tongue into Dokja's mouth, making him yelp. When he finally regained his composure and yielded, a nervous shiver fell over his skin from the way Joonghyuk's tongue stroked his own. His tie was soon caught between long fingers as Joonghyuk released the knot and pulled it away, beginning to unbutton his shirt.
"What about leaving marks?" Joonghyuk asked as he began to kiss and suck at Dokja's neck. His fingers continued to undo the rest of the buttons until he could press his cold hands to warm skin.
Dokja gasped at the feeling. "Not allowed."
"Damn," Joonghyuk pulled the shirt from his shoulders and threw it aside. His hands returned to their place on Dokja's bare waist while his wide eyes devoured the sight in front of him. The wedding ring remained on his finger, more frigid than the touch of his cold palms. "I was looking forward to seeing red on that pale skin of yours. But I'll accept what I paid for."
His mouth reattached to Dokja's, smirking with every press of their lips together. He wasn't afraid to use his teeth to bite Dokja's lower lip open, sliding his tongue in again. He tasted like the expensive red wine they'd shared at the restaurant, somehow containing only the sweet, intoxicating notes but none of the bitterness. It was difficult to keep up with him, and it was harder when his fingers reached for the zipper of Dokja's pants, pushing them away and leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs.
Kicking away his pants, Dokja was freed from Joonghyuk's grasp for a brief moment as he stepped away to strip his own and toss them aside. When he looked back at Dokja, his eyes displayed an insatiable hunger. Dokja stepped back unconsciously, wincing as his skin made contact with the icy glass.
Joonghyuk came back to him with slow, deliberate steps. His hands found Dokja's hips again, returning to that tentative touch that grew firmer with a few passing seconds. His head dropped into Dokja's neck, laying kisses and sucking lightly. A fluttering, dangerous desire began growing in Dokja's stomach. Every touch left him wanting more.
"I've wanted you like this all night," Joonghyuk said into his ear, his voice deep and gravelly. "Will you have me?"
Dokja craned his head back and closed his eyes as Joonghyuk pressed his entire body against him, continuing to mouth at his neck. " Yes, Joonghyuk ."
Yoo Joonghyuk, with his lean muscular frame, callused hands, and prominent scowl looked like he would only enjoy rough sex. Dokja had seen his type before.
He found he was right, when he was put on his hands and knees, his face buried in a pillow, hearing nothing except Joonghyuk's deep groans and the constant slap of skin on skin. Joonghyuk's hands wrapped around his hips, his grip just tight enough to hurt, but not to leave bruises.
He hid his own moans in the pillow, knowing many clients preferred a quiet arrangement. But when Joonghyuk pulled him up on his knees, Dokja's back pressed to his chest, there was nowhere to hide. And when Joonghyuk sucked at his neck again, mumbling " I want you to scream my name, " he complied with ease.
Joonghyuk had already shocked him several times over the course of their night, and he'd expected to be surprised again. What he couldn't foresee, however, was for Joonghyuk to care about his pleasure. He expected to be used and set aside, nothing more than a body to seek carnal comfort in—that was how men like Joonghyuk were.
But instead, after he was spent, he flipped Dokja around and leaned down to bring their lips together, messy and hungry, before wrapping his hand around Dokja and ensuring he finished while gasping into Joonghyuk's mouth. And when he did, Joonghyuk kissed him again, smirking against his lips.
He was always touching, kissing, and lightly sucking on whichever expanse of Dokja's skin was available to him. Every place his lips touched burned away the cold rage that had settled overtop of Dokja's skin earlier. He was eager to learn exactly how flexible Dokja was, making him arch his back and spread his legs differently with each change in the hour.
When the bed grew boring, Joonghyuk's arms hooked under his thighs to lift him onto his desk, shoving aside the papers spread out upon it before reattaching their mouths, as if he'd never wanted to leave. He then proceeded to place Dokja's legs over his shoulders and fuck into him until he cried out from the change in position and saw white against his eyelids.
After that it was in the desk chair, where Joonghyuk lazily sat with his arms behind his head and that annoying smirk on his face, enjoying the sight of Dokja above him seeking his own completion. But his hands couldn't stray from Dokja's hips for very long, where he forced a more consistent rise and fall. When he grew bored again, his mouth and tongue explored every inch of Dokja's chest that he could reach.
When it was over, the sun rising on the horizon, Dokja sat in his underwear against the head of the bed as running water from the shower sounded through the wall. Out the window, the sun's shallow light drew the sky in an array of orange and red, reflecting against the Han River and dressing the city in shadows soon to be cast away. Beneath the sky, cars drove through streets without any traffic—a rare sight to see. He'd never been awake so early to see it.
A glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table indicated it was five-thirty. Dokja's eyes were strained just trying to understand it, so he looked back out onto the horizon, sighing.
"I told you it was prettier," Joonghyuk's voice came from behind him. There was a fluffy towel low on his waist, and his hair was still dripping wet. "You can have a shower if you want. I don't need to leave for another hour."
Dokja nodded, his throat too hoarse to reply, before rushing into the bathroom. He didn't trust himself to sit there for any longer and not stare at Joonghyuk's bare abdomen. Why did he look so awake? How wasn't he exhausted after having sex all night?
The bathroom was just as ornate as Dokja expected, not having the time to appreciate it during the few times he'd entered during the night. It had both a complete glass shower and a separate recessed bathtub. There was a long mirror across one wall, reflecting the shower. In his sleepy, post-sex daze, he saw himself pressed up against the glass, staring at his reflection while Joonghyuk fucked him from behind.
Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, he looked at himself in the mirror—free of marks, like Joonghyuk had agreed to. At least he hadn't gone against the rules of the contract. But his hair was a mess, and his limbs were so fatigued that even walking into the shower and turning on the water was difficult.
The initial cold spray made him flinch, but he let it continue on to wake himself up before raising the heat and beginning to wash himself. It gave a moment to consider everything that had happened the previous night.
Now, it was obvious that Joonghyuk had chosen him solely for the sake of sex—did he really find Dokja that pretty? But more importantly, would Joonghyuk want to see him again? Three million won for one night's worth of work was impossible to refuse. Even if he continued to leave this exhausted, Dokja didn't care. Money was money.
Grabbing a towel from the shelf, he dried his body and wrapped it around his waist. When he looked in the mirror again, he still looked as tired as before, just cleaner. Great .
Dokja stepped out of the bathroom, his eyes beginning to search the room for wherever they'd thrown their clothes from the day before. Before he could, Joonghyuk stepped in front of him, Dokja's suit from the day before folded in his hands.
"Thanks," Dokja said. He is as meticulous as I thought. Lifting his head, Joonghyuk was already dressed in a new suit and his hair was fully dry. He probably needed to leave soon. Shit . "I'll leave as soon as I get dressed."
Joonghyuk nodded. "Do you need a ride?"
"It's fine," Dokja shook his head. He didn't want to be with Joonghyuk any longer than he had to be. Why did he feel so awkward? This man had railed him the entire night. Maybe it would've been less strange if Joonghyuk hadn't been… Joonghyuk. Or if he'd been unattractive. That definitely would have helped.
Dokja returned to the safety of the bathroom to dress himself, his breaths slowing as he slipped his clothes on. The fatigue from earlier was replaced with adrenaline as soon as Joonghyuk had met his gaze again. This was bad. Had he been classically conditioned in one night to react to Yoo Joonghyuk's face?
When he stepped out of the bathroom, he shut the door behind him silently. The stovetop clicked from the kitchen, revealing where Joonghyuk was. So he did know how to cook, then? It would have been interesting to see, but Dokja had to leave the premises before he did something stupid in his tired, stressed haze.
As he stepped across the room to the door, slipping on his shoes, it was too late for him to make a proper escape. Joonghyuk's footsteps were loud as they approached, looking at him with a furrowed brow while holding a spatula in his hand. Dokja swallowed. Fuck .
Joonghyuk walked into his space, his free hand grazing Dokja's hip. With nowhere to go, Dokja backed into the door until he was pressed against it with tense shoulders. Joonghyuk's eyes looked at him, half-hooded as they strayed from his face to his body. The brush of Joonghyuk's thumb against his hip made him relax, enough that he hadn't noticed him leaning in until his lips were pressed against Dokja's.
Dokja sighed into it, opening his mouth and hearing the vague clang of the metal spatula falling against the hard floor before Joonghyuk's other hand came up to cup his face. Even if Dokja had come to know the roughness of his hands over the course of the night, the gentle touch on his face was new. It contrasted the way Joonghyuk had acted all night, but showed how his mouth never seemed to have enough. The fingers at his hip rose to splay across his neck and shoulder, just as gentle—as if he was holding porcelain.
When he pulled away, his touch retreated along with him. Dokja blinked at him, stepping away from the door as he struggled to determine something to say. His face was hot, which meant it was probably red. The recognition of it made his neck flush even more.
"You have space for me at the same time next week, don't you?" Joonghyuk asked, smirking. "You'll have to learn to tolerate me, from now on."
SECOND CALL: JUNE 26TH
Bank Account Balance: ₩8,930,084.20
Dokja stood outside the apartment door, unable to bring his hand up to knock. He sighed, pulling at the sleeves of his suit jacket for something to do with his hands. It was already five minutes past nine, and he was supposed to have arrived already. Joonghyuk had already sent the money as per the contract, but would it be horrible if Dokja ran away, now?
Biting his lip, he raised his knuckles to the door again, knocking three times. It wasn't even thirty seconds before he heard shuffling behind the door and the click of the lock. When it swung open, Joonghyuk greeted him with a smirk—a pair of black square-framed glasses sat on his face, which was an unexpected sight.
He was not wearing a suit this time, either, and it made Dokja self-conscious about his choice of attire. Joonghyuk wore a tight, fitted black t-shirt and gray Nike sweatpants. He could have said he was a model for the brand, and Dokja would have been none the wiser about his choice of occupation. Did his choice of dress mean they weren't going out, then?
"Am I going to have to drag you inside?" Joonghyuk folded his arms over his chest and scowled.
Dokja scoffed, stepping past the threshold and breathing in the now familiar scent of the apartment—cedar with undertones of citrus. He removed his shoes, letting Joonghyuk wrap an arm around his waist and pull him across the room toward the desk, where his laptop sat open. Dokja was left to stand at his side while Joonghyuk seemed to resume something he was doing, sitting in his desk chair and typing something on his laptop.
"What's with the glasses?" Dokja couldn't stop himself from asking.
"I was working," Joonghyuk responded, not lifting his eyes away from the screen. "Give me a few minutes." The sight of the chair itself was enough to make heat rise on the back of Dokja's neck, reminiscent of the last night he'd spent in this apartment. What was he doing? There was no need to be nervous, but still there was a slight weight on his chest, his heart rate increasing as he watched Joonghyuk work.
Why do I feel like such an idiot? Dokja thought, wiping a hand over his face. Yoo Joonghyuk was an asshole—cheating on his wife, paying a male escort for sex, and not even bothering to be nice about it.
Maybe, last time, the lack of sleep had gotten to Dokja, framing their night together as more desirable than actually it had been. He had to admit that the sex was good; he'd be lying to himself otherwise. And he needed to make sure Joonghyuk liked him, so he would continue shoveling money into Dokja's bank account. It was his job, after all.
But the sight of him, now, biting his lip as he sped to type out an email that Dokja was sure would be used to condemn some poor subordinate's actions—it was different. Nice, since he wasn't speaking. It drew out a curiosity to learn more about him, almost.
Most conversation with clients was restricted to small talk and pleasantries, but the sight of him now was enough to make Dokja want to know more about Joonghyuk specifically. He was so young to be the CEO of one of the largest entertainment companies in the country—a simple internet search even mentioned that he'd never come from family money. It was something he'd done himself; Dokja hated admitting it, but it made him more attractive.
"No insults today, Kim Dokja?" Joonghyuk asked, a smirk rising on his lips even as he continued to look at his screen.
Nevermind, Dokja thought. I still fucking hate him. Was that the first time he'd addressed Dokja by name? "You haven't said anything worthy of insulting."
Joonghyuk shut his laptop, then. He turned and stood, letting his hands settle on Dokja's hips beneath his suit jacket and pushing him back to lean against the desk. "Are you finally learning to have class, Kim Dokja?"
"We can't all use being rich as an excuse to be insolent like you," Dokja sat back on top of the desk, allowing Joonghyuk to stand between his legs. Why did he keep saying Dokja's name like that? In his deep, smooth voice, it sounded almost vulgar.
Removing his glasses and setting them aside, Joonghyuk hummed and pushed Dokja's suit jacket from his shoulders. "Did one of the older men you saw this week teach you that word?" He began to undo Dokja's tie and pull it away.
"No," Dokja scoffed as Joonghyuk's hands proceeded to unbutton his shirt. His heart rate was increasing again, at a steady rate as he awaited the touch of skin on skin. "I already knew it. But if you're assuming I was taught it by someone older, what does that make you, being the same age?"
"It makes me someone concerned with how someone as impudent as you spends his time," Joonghyuk smirked, pulling away Dokja's shirt and throwing it aside. He licked his lips. "Do you know that one?"
"No," Dokja swallowed.
Joonghyuk's fingers wrapped around his bare waist. His hands were cold. "It means disrespectful, but specifically toward those who are in a more important position. Doesn't that describe you well?"
"You consider yourself important? How egotistical of you," Dokja scoffed.
"Those older men don't know a thing about you, do they?" Joonghyuk chuckled, his mouth proceeding to kiss and suck at his shoulder.
Dokja tensed, refraining from craning his head to the side in a show of wanting more. "And you do? What do you know about me?" he huffed.
"I know that they'll never see you act like this," Joonghyuk's lips trailed kisses down to his collarbone. "Like I get to."
"You're an asshole."
"I am. You're right. But you seem to like it." Joonghyuk's voice was low, lifting his head to breathe against the delicate skin of Dokja's ear before pulling away completely.
Dokja shivered as Joonghyuk stepped across the room, reaching behind his neck for the collar of his shirt to pull it over his head. His back, which Dokja hadn't seen last time, was wide and without a single mark or scar. His lean muscles contracted and extended while he shifted, the deep line of his spine curving with every movement. When he turned, left in just the sweatpants low on his hips, it was suddenly very clear there was nothing beneath them.
Dokja slid off the desk, biting his tongue inside his mouth. "How would you know what I like?"
"You didn't like it last week? I thought it was fairly obvious when you said ' yes, Joonghyuk,'" he smirked. "Should I go on about how you cried out for more when I had you on the desk?"
"Shut up. I can't fucking stand anything that comes out of your mouth." Dokja clenched his jaw. Why had he fallen for these petty tricks? All Joonghyuk wanted to do was rile him up, and he fell for it every time.
"Then why don't you come over here?" Joonghyuk sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms. "Maybe I'll be willing to put my insolent mouth to use elsewhere."
Dokja stared at his bare abdomen, unable to control himself. How was this man real? "No," he swallowed. He shouldn't have said it, but he couldn't help himself. If he stepped any closer to Joonghyuk, he was going to fall weak again, like last time.
"No? Really?" Joonghyuk chuckled. "You don't want my mouth? Lucky for you, I've also been praised for my hands. You're very familiar with them, aren't you?"
Dokja glared at him.
"Are you going to make me sit here all night, Kim Dokja?" Joonghyuk smirked. "Well? I'm waiting."
Swallow your pride for the money , Dokja thought. He stood up straight, taking slow steps over to stand between Joonghyuk's legs.
Before he could say anything, Joonghyuk's hands grappled onto his hips, making Dokja yelp and fall forward. He landed exactly where he expected Joonghyuk wanted him—chest to chest. The press of his front against Dokja's, still fully clothed, was unavoidable. But moreso, it was frustrating .
"Was that so hard?" Joonghyuk asked, adjusting Dokja onto his lap to straddle him.
"Asshole. Didn't I tell you to shut up?" He gritted his teeth even as heat rose to his face.
"Gladly," Joonghyuk pressed his lips to Dokja's, pulling him closer. The harsh grip of his hands grew softer, as if his hunger was being sated with a simple kiss. After the last time, it was clear that Joonghyuk seemed to want kissing just as much as he wanted sex. When his tongue slid against Dokja's lower lip, he was weak to it, opening his mouth to offer himself up.
Why did everything about Joonghyuk's touch make him feel so dizzy? He wanted more, and knowing he was going to have it was enough to accelerate the rate of his heart. Joonghyuk's hand was wandering from his hip to between his legs, and it made Dokja want to reach out and cling to him, but he kept his hands to himself. He didn't usually want to touch his clients, but Yoo Joonghyuk was different. He was irritating, and an asshole, but his mouth was divine and his appearance was a refined, elegant sort of beauty that was impossible to resist.
As Joonghyuk began to pull away, the dizziness started to fade, drawn back to reality for a few brief seconds. Dokja bit down on his tongue, just to fuck with him. He deserved it.
"Ow," Joonghyuk said, furrowing his brow and narrowing his eyes. "What was that?"
The change in his disposition was abrupt; he was looking at Dokja with a questioning, annoyed gaze instead of one that was arrogant and seductive. He didn't move except for his hands returning to their place on Dokja's hips, raising an eyebrow and waiting for him to speak. The sight of it was almost cute , if that was possible.
Dokja laughed. "You didn't shut up when I told you the first time."
"Is that it?" Joonghyuk's smirk returned to his face. "You wanted to teach me a lesson?" He chuckled, then leaned in to start sucking at the skin of Dokja's chest, up toward his collarbone.
"Something like that," Dokja craned his head back like he'd wanted to earlier, allowing Joonghyuk to lick and nibble his way up. He hummed, enjoying it; he could feel himself falling dizzy again, this time not willing to break free from it anymore. Joonghyuk was going to continue on—he'd paid for Dokja, after all. And Dokja would leave in the morning again, after appreciating the sunrise on the Seoul skyline, satisfied in his post-sex daze with the additional three million won in his bank account.
But right when he reached Dokja's jaw, he stopped. "Wrong choice, Kim Dokja."
There was no time to process the words before Dokja was lifted up and tossed back onto the bed. Joonghyuk was on top of him, then, one hand clasped around both of his wrists above his head. The other hand undid the button and zipper on his pants, fingers skimming over the skin right above the waistband of his boxer briefs.
Heat rushed up his chest and neck as Joonghyuk's lips returned to their place on his jaw, leaving light fleeting kisses and nothing more. Dokja squirmed, then realized that though the hand around his wrists was restraining him, the grip was so loose he could break away without difficulty. Joonghyuk was offering him an out, if he didn't want it.
Dokja had fulfilled so many men's sexual fantasies. There were a multitude of options worse than this. And he didn't hate it. He kind of liked it, a little. It was Joonghyuk's attractive face, and the fact that he had ensured Dokja had walked away the following morning satisfied last week. He would be taken care of, too. Why couldn't he just enjoy it?
Joonghyuk's hand on his waistband continued to trace over his skin, never venturing lower. He continued to press light kisses down Dokja's neck, over his pulse point, and down to his collarbone, but refused to do anything more. It was agonizing, raising the hairs on his arms in anticipation of a touch that wouldn't arrive.
Dokja whimpered. "Asshole." He was too far gone to care about how he sounded—needy and deprived. Didn't Joonghyuk want him like that, anyway?
"You want more?" Joonghyuk asked, lifting his head to meet Dokja's eyes. "Beg for it, Dokja."
The sound of only his given name made his stomach flutter. Joonghyuk's eyes above him were dark, almost black, but still they held an indication of unhidden desire and lust. What had he done to make Joonghyuk look at him like that? Was it really just because he found Dokja pretty? Or was it the teasing, the exchanges between them that were somehow both incredibly infuriating and sexually frustrating?
"Please, Joonghyuk," Dokja whined from the back of his throat. It was a low, resonating sound—almost a grovel. Any need to maintain his pride was lost, now. He was going to be teased for it, but he didn't care. "Please."
"How could I ever refuse that pretty face?" Joonghyuk smirked, leaning down to kiss his lips.
Joonghyuk had him on the bed—twice. His desire to lightly restrain Dokja continued throughout both, but his ever-changing hold never altered from a gentle, slack grasp. It was a constant question that came from his touch, and from his eyes whenever Dokja looked into them again: if this is too much for you, let go. But Dokja never did. He didn't need to.
The first time was with his hands behind his back, his chest pushed up against the headboard. Every shift and movement from Joonghyuk was fast and calculated, just frustrating enough to make Dokja whine to be touched again. Joonghyuk's mouth traversed all over his upper back during it; his tongue delved into the crease of his spine, making him shiver. His shoulder blades seemed almost numb when Joonghyuk stopped sucking on them, reaching around to wrap his free hand around Dokja and drag him toward his end.
The second round was sitting up on his back, his legs spread apart in the air alongside his arms. Joonghyuk held each hand to its corresponding ankle, fucking into him and spurring him on by voicing his name alongside his curses and groans. " Fuck, Dokja," he said, and the sound of his name alone in that deep, luscious voice was enough to get drunk on. It made him beg, again, of his own accord. Regardless of how foolish he felt, it drew out a greedy look in Joonghyuk's eyes, as if he wanted to claim the way Dokja unraveled beneath him as his own.
When he finally released his hold, it didn't take long for Dokja to finish under his touch, panting as he laid his head back against the headboard and shut his eyes. After a towel was wiped over his abdomen, there were lips on his neck, moving to his chest, kissing and sucking all the way down to his navel. The lips traveled down his left side, over the bone of his hip, then into his inner thigh. He shivered then, but the expected touch never came, and instead the kissing continued all the way down to his ankle. Right when he thought it was over, Joonghyuk rose again and repeated the same on his right side.
By the end of it, Dokja feared that his skin would never be the same after knowing Yoo Jooonghyuk's mouth and tongue over every inch of him. When he opened his eyes, the sight of Joonghyuk's gaze on him made his breath hitch. His eyes had lost the dark, wanting intensity and it had been replaced with some sort of satisfaction as he looked from Dokja's face to his feet. It was as if he was studying artwork for the most minute details.
Long, calloused fingers reached out to graze over the scar on his hip from an incident as a child, then the mole on the inside of his knee, and the untrimmed nails on the tips of his toes.
Dokja sighed. Was this what it was like to be treated like a lover? A true companion? He hadn't had a partner in years—not after he'd started working as an escort five years ago. But he'd long since learned that true love wasn't real. Desire was the only thing that was tangible and legitimate. It led to a physical reaction, a craving for sex, to hold or be held, and internal gratification when it was all fulfilled.
And Yoo Joonghyuk was married. If true love was real, he never would have left his wife's side in the first place.
But still, Dokja's heart raced as Joonghyuk approached him on his hands and knees, slotting their lips together with some sort of mixture of roughness and tenderness. It was more similar to the kiss they'd had the morning after, last time—the sound of the spatula clanging to the floor was still so vivid in his memory. Joonghyuk had seemed to be restless, then, ever eager for more. And here, it was the same.
Right when Dokja believed he was going to be dragged into a third round, Joonghyuk pulled away. He slipped off the bed, pulling on his sweatpants, and wandered into the kitchen without a word.
Huh? Dokja thought. He just left like that? He rose, finding his boxer briefs from where they'd been thrown onto the floor hours earlier and tugging them on. A glance at the bedside clock displayed the time: 12:57 AM.
When he reached the doorframe that led into the kitchen, Joonghyuk opened the fridge and pulled out a few things—a block of cheese that looked fancy, butter, and what looked like dough wrapped in plastic?
"What are you doing?" Dokja asked.
Joonghyuk looked toward him while unwrapping the block of dough. "I haven't eaten in hours."
Dokja furrowed his brow. "So you're going to cook? At one in the morning?" While I'm still here?
"Yes. Is there a problem?" He reached into a drawer and pulled out a rolling pin. "I'll make enough for you, too, if you want."
"I don't eat anything made by my clients. You should have read that in the contract."
"I did," Joonghyuk said, finding a pot from a cabinet and filling it with water. He set it on the stovetop, then added a large amount of coarse salt from a jar. "I was just asking to be courteous."
Dokja scoffed. He stepped into the kitchen, watching as Joonghyuk rolled out the dough until it was a very thin sheet on the countertop. "What is that, anyway?"
"Fresh pasta dough. I keep it prepped when I need something fast." His deft fingers folded the long sheet into thirds, then reached for a knife to cut thin strips.
"Fresh pasta dough?" And he kept it prepped in advance? Was that not difficult? Dokja didn't often eat pasta due to how often it had tomatoes, which he despised, but he'd had fresh pasta once before with a client at a restaurant. It had melted in his mouth, clinging to a buttery sauce that he would have licked off the plate if it had been socially acceptable.
Joonghyuk said nothing, continuing to work while Dokja stood beside him and watched. He was fast, locating anything he needed within seconds. The pasta he'd cut and tossed into the boiling water was finished right as black pepper toasted in butter in another pan. He used tongs to transfer the pasta into the pan, reaching for the cheese and grating it over top.
Within another few minutes, Joonghyuk was placing a serving into a shallow bowl, the rich, decadent sauce clinging to each flat strand as it was transferred. The scent was familiar, cheesy and peppery from the steam coming off of it—was this the same dish he'd had at that restaurant before?
Dokja looked up at Joonghyuk and pursed his lips. He wanted to try it. But that would go against his contract, and he'd already refused the offer. When Joonghyuk met his gaze, he smirked and reached into the cabinet for another bowl, placing the first one into Dokja's waiting hands. Heat rushed up the back of his neck. Had it been that obvious?
"You can ask for things, you know," Joonghyuk said, handing him a fork. "I don't mind."
Dokja nodded, taking the utensil. "Thank you." Why did his phrasing seem like he was speaking in terms of sex, as well? Was it because Dokja had fulfilled something he'd wanted, without a single word of opposition?
"But now that I know you can beg, maybe I should make you do it more often," Joonghyuk said, setting aside a portion for himself.
Dokja clenched the fork in his hand. He'd known this would happen. "Asshole," he grumbled, though it lacked the malice from when he'd arrived earlier that night. He followed Joonghyuk to the table, sitting across from him.
The first forkful brought to his mouth coated his tongue in the buttery sauce, and the flavor of black pepper was a prominent contrast to the richness of the cheese. Dokja hummed, expressing his content as he chewed. It wasn't quite the same as the dish he remembered, but it was far more delicious.
"I didn't think you could cook," Dokja said, twirling the pasta around his fork for another bite. He couldn't prevent himself from humming in delight as he tasted it again.
Joonghyuk raised an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I be able to?"
"Are you seriously asking that? You don't know why?" Dokja paused, but Joonghyuk said nothing in response, eating in silence. "Shouldn't you have a private chef, since you're so rich?"
"I don't like eating food made by others often. Dining out is fine on occasion." How did he manage to still sound so stuck up?
"Why?" Dokja couldn't stop himself from asking.
Joonghyuk shrugged. "It's just a preference." His eyes flickered, then, becoming hazy for a moment as if recalling something. Dokja wanted to pry, but he wasn't supposed to. There was no reason he had to learn more about the man in front of him, even if everything about him piqued his curiosity.
Then again, he'd just been fucked on this man's bed twice, to the point of begging, so didn't that mean he was allowed to pry a little?
"Why?" Dokja asked again.
Joonghyuk sighed, putting down his fork. He paused for a second, as if contemplating whether or not to answer. "I always cooked for myself and my younger sister. Our parents left us. Money was tight." His statement was blunt, lacking the sorrow it should have had. He scowled, not at Dokja, but toward his bowl.
Oh, Dokja thought . "You have a sister?" He tried to steer the conversation in a different direction.
Joonghyuk looked up, his expression softening, though he continued to scowl. "She's much younger than me. Barely a teenager."
"Do you see her often?" Dokja said. Was that expression how he looked to everyone else? It was strange to not see him smirking or saying something to provoke Dokja.
"She's at boarding school in Jeju . I visit her sometimes. We see each other when she's on breaks."
Nodding, Dokja returned to his food. He pursed his lips, tensing. Had he made it awkward, asking too many questions? Why'd he let himself run his big mouth?
"Are you satisfied, now?" Joonghyuk asked, picking up his fork again to finish off the last few strands of pasta remaining in his bowl. "I didn't take you as someone so inquisitive about your clients' lives, Kim Dokja." The teasing tone returned to his voice, and Dokja's shoulders fell. He could work with teasing—it was better than sensitive topics he wasn't supposed to have breached.
"I'm not, usually. I just wonder how your poor sister deals with an asshole like you," Dokja said.
Joonghyuk scoffed, smirking. "Given your name, you must be an only child. You wouldn't understand what it's like to have a sibling."
Dokja huffed. "My name means reader."
"And? You haven't corrected me, otherwise," Joonghyuk finished off the last bite of his pasta, licking his lips. His tongue receded back into his mouth slowly, and Dokja wanted to have it on his body again. He turned his head back down toward his bowl. It was still half full.
"Fine. I am an only child," he admitted.
"I thought so. You must have gotten everything you wanted with that attitude of yours, didn't you?"
Dokja glared at him. He knew nothing. "Why do you care?"
" Why don't you tell me?" Joonghyuk pried. He leaned on the table with his elbow, resting his chin in his palm. His eyes were filled with curiosity and an indistinguishable purpose. Was he just using this as an opportunity to retaliate for how Dokja had been a little nosey?
"No. I didn't get everything I wanted."
"Why not?" Joonghyuk looked at him expectantly. He didn't know what he was asking for, did he? This was just another attempt to rattle him again. But there was an easy way to shut him down this time.
"My father died when I was a kid. My mother is in prison for killing him," Dokja said, maintaining a blunt tone. He shouldn't have revealed that fact, but Joonghyuk drew something out of him where he was unable to withhold himself. Whether it was the sex, his unusual temperament, or even just his irritatingly attractive face, it didn't matter. Dokja wanted to fuck him and strangle him at the same time, and he hated that he was very aware of which one of those two options most often won him over.
Joonghyuk's eyes widened, then. There was a flash of something that looked like regret—or was it sympathy? His lips parted, as if to say something, but he didn't.
Dokja had expected some kind of response, maybe trying to shift the conversation like he had before. It was strange to have Joonghyuk silent in front of him, but there was no witty remark or statement that could take away the dreadful nature of the truth. He'd heard every reaction there was, from others, and he didn't want to hear another.
At the very least, Dokja had finally managed to shut him up.
"I don't need your pity, just like you don't need mine. That's not why I'm here," Dokja said, rising from his seat. He placed his palms on the table, leaning forward over it to hold his face mere inches from Joonghyuk's. "You told me to ask if I wanted something, didn't you?"
Joonghyuk nodded. "I did."
Dokja's eyes fell over the sharp angles of his face, then down to his bare torso. He needed to make it as obvious as possible what he wanted. Licking his lips, he returned his gaze to meet Joonghyuk's. His eyes were trained on Dokja's mouth.
"Take me to the shower, Joonghyuk," Dokja said, firmly.
Joonghyuk stood without another word, losing the shock that had shown on his face from Dokja's admission. His hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him toward the bathroom—when they reached inside, he shut the door behind them and pushed him up against it.
He pressed his lips to Dokja's with a renewed hunger, hands gripping onto his waist tighter than before. Joonghyuk's mouth opened, letting him slip his tongue in. There was an obvious shift in his actions, from earlier—he seemed restless, again, no longer desiring control but something else. He sucked on Dokja's tongue, drawing out a whimper from him. Everything about Joonghyuk's touch muddled his mind, and the exchanges between the two of them were beginning to do the same.
The line between work and reality was being blurred. There was no false persona to maintain between the two of them, like they would uphold with others. Joonghyuk knew Dokja was an escort, a call boy, but had never cared for him to put on his usual facade—he hadn't either, since it was clear from the ring on his finger that he was married. No one knew of his adulterous actions but Dokja.
He should have been more afraid of what the lack of pretenses between them meant. But still he let Joonghyuk drag him under the hot stream of the shower and push his chest against the frigid glass. He watched himself be fucked in the mirror's reflection, whining and moaning for more as Joonghyuk's mouth traced over his shoulders.
And he enjoyed it.
In the morning, Dokja was sent out the door with a kiss, like the previous week. A paper bag was shoved into his hands as well, full of the leftover pasta that Joonghyuk claimed he didn't need. Unable to refuse, he'd taken it; if he reminded himself that Joonghyuk was just being courteous, like he'd said the night before, that made it more okay.
Dokja hummed to himself as he walked out of the building, clutching the large bag to his chest. Maybe he's not as bad as I thought .