A fair warning: this contains some ual connotations/language. 

“Love and war are the same thing, and stratagems and policy are as allowable in one as in the other.” -- Miguel de Cervantes

 

    He had always known how to attract people.

    

    Even when he was young, Jeon Hojoon was a charmer. With his cute features and smiling eyes, he could make anyone fall for him and make anyone do his bidding. And thus, even as he matured, growing taller, fuller, and even more handsome, Hojoon could manipulate the people around him. All it took was a few words, a slight touch, and his target would submit.

 

    He flew through his college years like that, going to clubs and finding any willing participants to go home with him, spend a few hours with him. They were always so needy, so simple. Too simple. It made Hojoon feel powerful, as if he had an ability that was unique to him and him alone. If life was a game, he was always a few steps ahead of everyone else. He felt invincible, propelled fowards by his knowledge of his own abilities.

 

    Some people accused him of cheating, of not caring, of being unable to love. Hojoon shrugged them all off. The people around him were all too soft, too malleable. Being attached to any of them for any length of time would be torture. And so he left behind him a string of one-night stands, bathroom s and hallway makeout sessions. Why did it matter? No one could ever keep up with him.

 

-----

 

    The music thrummed through Hojoon’s body as he stepped onto the floor, beer in hand. The drink was a prop more than anything else, an excuse for him to talk to the people around him. This was a new club in a new city, and the people around him were foreign. Good. No one to recognize him, then.

 

    Sipping at his beer, Hojoon found a seat at the edge of the bar and scanned the floor. Did he prefer male or female tonight? Either one would suit him fine, he mused. There were plenty of useful people here, every single one of them just vapid enough and just naive enough for him to coerce. It wouldn’t be difficult at all.

 

    Even as he sat there, he felt a gentle touch slide across his waist, almost making him jump. The fingers were light, playful, and Hojoon narrowed his eyes. It was unusual for someone to make a move before he did, and it usually wasn’t quite so brazen. Half-turning, he glanced in the direction where it had come from. There was no one in his near vicinity. Hojoon frowned slightly and began to turn back around when a breath brushed past his ear.

 

    “You’re an interesting specimen, aren’t you?” a dark voice whispered, sending shivers down Hojoon’s spine. He fought the urge to turn right around, and instead prepared a response.

 

    “I could imagine that you’re even more interesting,” he returned, the words sliding smoothly off his tongue.

 

    There was a breathy laugh, hot against his hair, and thin fingers that slid down across his neck. He caught the slightest flash of red, manicured nails before the fingers disappeared. “Meet me in the back hall behind the bar.”

 

    Hojoon swallowed. This was a different turn of events. Never before had someone else told him where to go. The loss of control was dizzying, and he felt lightheaded as he stood and made his way to the aforementioned hallway.

 

    There was a woman waiting there, examining her blood-red nails. She smiled as he approached, and Hojoon lifted an eyebrow. She was beautiful in an uncommon way, her features defined and graceful. “What did you-”

 

    Before he could finish his sentence, his back was against the wall, her lips pressed against his. There was a challenging light that danced in her eyes, and he met that provocation with a physical response. They moved together, smooth and graceful, neither letting the other take any ground. After a short while, they broke apart, the woman letting out an amused laugh.

 

    “You’re an interesting one, boy. Interesting indeed.” She picked a purse up from the ground, slinging it over her shoulder and turning towards the door.

 

    Hojoon fairly growled, pushing off of the wall. “That’s not- you’re not allowed to-”

 

    “Not allowed to what? Play the same game that you play?” Her laugh was taunting, and Hojoon’s blood writhed under his skin. “There are no rules in the game of love, boy. You can only win with strategy.”

 

    She stalked down the dark hallway, her heels clicking away. Hojoon let his head bang against the wall, his chest heaving and his blood boiling. No one had ever bested him before.

 

    The game wasn’t over.