post #47 [closed]

[exopromptmeme]

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[FILL] wont thy heart to luxury

[anonymous]

The first time Jongin met Kris, he was sitting outside Lu Han’s automatic gates, unlit cigarette bobbling between his lips, pissing drunk, kind of horny, kind of confused, digging for a lighter in his back pocket while waiting for a ride home. It was just him, alone, in the great expanse of Lu Han’s Beverly Hills entrance that had in the expanse of a few hours grown exponentially self-important and conceited. In retrospect he’d probably looked like some batshit lunatic with terrible hair, especially next to the guests inside the mansion, who were eating little French appetizers and frolicking in money suits. The doorman who’d tried to keep him company had migrated eons ago, because-no surprise-Jongin wasn’t great company. As a rule, people who fucked for a living had one problem or another. Fortunately for Jongin, at least it wasn’t the clap or some terrible BDD-not to say he had strayed far from pit bottom with his habit of his alarming lack of conversational abilities.

“You look cold,” Someone said from behind him. Jongin glanced over and saw the man who he’d been talking to previously-Kris Wu, yet another face in Lu Han’s endless assortment of Dick College Friends. Lu Han had a radar for dicks, himself included of course, and he liked to gather them up and herd them into parties and watch them fuck each other in a massive, angry, spite-fueled orgy of power and condescension. Jongin was invited to all of them not because he was part of this nasty oldboy network, but because he looked good. As it happened, it was well-accepted that if you couldn’t look more physically attractive than your foe, so long as the thing on your arm could, you were still a winner. Lu Han had been praying since the beginning of dawn, when he financed Jongin’s first porn flick fresh and jobless out of college, that Jongin would be his arm thing.

Except Jongin would die before he became Lu Han’s anything. Out of respect and deference, though, he did at least show up to all of Lu Han’s parties to get himself pissing drunk.

“I’m not cold,” Jongin responded, shivering. Kris laughed and shrugged off his jacket, this huge, ridiculous-looking wool thing that felt as warm as it did heavy, and draped it over Jongin’s shoulders.

“I just wanted to put my jacket over you,” Kris said, laughing. If Jongin looked closer, he could see wrinkles around Kris’s eyes. Too old to fuck for fun, too young to fuck for money.

“Lu Han’s been courting me,” Jongin said, “You know he’s a sadistic fuck, right?”

“Oh, he can be as sadistic as he wants,” Kris said with a stern face, but Jongin could tell that he was gloating himself inside out, “I can always just strong-arm him, that midget.”

“Rich, coming from a sixty-year old.”

“Fifty-four,” Kris corrected.

Jongin glanced at him, just quickly enough to look him over, not enough to really make much of it. Kris was tall, could easily tower of Jongin even if he were a little hunch-backed; his hair was blown back, his suit neat and pressed and tailored to perfection. He looked better in person than on TV or magazines, has more presence. Presently Kris dug into his pockets and produced a little silver container.

“Try one of these,” He said, tilting the cigarettes towards Jongin, “A friend sent them from Spain.”

Jongin stared at him, and back down, “What if you’re drugging me?”

“Then you’d let me drug you,” Kris responded easily. Jongin took a cigarette, let Kris light him up, and when he exhaled, he could feel his heart throbbing into his chest. He didn’t know for sure, but he thought, yeah, maybe, maybe he would.