Jongin was pushed not so gently against his apartment’s door the minute they got out of the elevator. The Chinese male breathlessly exclaimed that he wanted nothing more than to devour him right then and there in the said elevator though unfortunately it wasn’t possible, with all those kids staring at them with heavy judgmental gazes as if they knew exactly what they were thinking. The tanned male breathed a startled shaky moan when Yixing’s slender hand palmed his growing , and then it suddenly clicked. They were moving too fast for his liking, what they were doing right now would only lead to something Jongin didn’t want anymore. Not that he was against having some but what would happen after? Surely Yixing wasn’t going to linger around after taking what he clearly seemed so eager to take at the moment. So Jongin did the only thing he could think of at that nerve-wracking situation he found himself stuck at. He punched the life out of Yixing.

“What the was that for?!” The shorter male growled, body tense and eyes dangerously narrowed; he seemed like he was ready to tear Jongin up into tiny pieces but the taller male was faster to get into his apartment and slam the door shut; leaving Yixing gape dumbly at the said door as the sound of it shutting echoed loudly through the empty hallway.

There was a long moment of silence, of Jongin leaning against his door breathing heavily and Yixing just standing there half confused half frustrated. He wasn’t the only one confused though, Jongin himself felt utterly lost at the way he reacted. His body acted on its own and the urge to punch Yixing and get away from him was by sheer instinct. He didn’t plan on acting that way or hurting the other male, for some reason he just felt like he needed to set some rules before getting involved in Yixing’s little game, he needed to have the upper hand in this situation. It was as clear as the burning sun that the Chinese male was trying to use him. He wasn’t stupid and Yixing clearly fell for his rich naïve prince façade. Actually, Jongin was way smarter than Yixing gave him credit for. He stood frozen against his door, worrying his bottom lip as he tried to catch any sound that indicated Yixing was still there.

He was still there, Jongin thought when he heard someone taking a few careful steps towards his door. The tanned man took a deep breath and closed his almond shaped eyes; a deep frown etching on his face.

“Jongin?” The other male sounded unsure of himself and adorably confused, Jongin couldn’t help but smile lightly at that; he was the one in charge after all. Jongin was always the one in charge and he was planning to keep things that way as long as he could. “Jongin, I can hear you breathing.”

“Yixing,” The tanned male loved the way the foreign name rolled smoothly out of his mouth. He bit back a grin and leaned even closer to the door; absentmindedly drawing meaningless patterns with his thin long fingers on the door. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, yeah? Well can you enlighten me then? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t understand what the heck just happened let alone think about anything.”

“You want to use me to get to my father. I’m not dumb, I can read your face like an open book. You’re really not as smart as you think you are.” Yixing kept his calm carefree composer on as he locked his gaze with the younger male’s peephole, and Jongin found himself a bit taken aback by that out of the blue action, he couldn’t really tell if his words managed to startle the Chinese male or not. By the look of it, he failed miserably because Yixing just smirked openly and leaned even closer to the door, voice laced with nothing but sheer amusement.

“I shouldn’t have underestimated you then.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“You’re not asking me to leave though. Clearly you have something in mind too, am I right Jongin?”

“I—“ Actually, he did have something in mind; he just didn’t really know how to phrase it properly. Yixing wanted to use him and Jongin wanted pretty much the same thing. But what exactly was it? ? No, he didn’t want that from Yixing. If he wanted to get laid he could have picked someone ten times hotter than the Chinese male. Not that Yixing wasn’t hot, the guy’s sinfully created body was to kill for, and his face—oh god, his face was a work of art and Jongin wanted so badly to kiss those plump soft lips of his over and over again, he craved the boy’s addictive touches and intoxicating scent but unfortunately losing himself in lust wasn’t an option at the moment. But if he didn’t want the other male for his body, then what exactly did he want from him? Playing along with Yixing’s little game meant convincing his father to give the Chinese male a position in their firm or at least provide him with some sort of an advantage that would assure him a well paid job at the Kims’ architecture firm.

“Jongin?” Yixing’s voice came out low and soft, hypnotizing in a way. Jongin immediately felt like he could get used to it. And then it clicked, Yixing was soft, so soft and that was exactly why Jongin felt drawn to him. His whole being was soft, everything about him from his lips to his gaze to his voice to his skin, everything about Zhang Yixing was soft and Jongin craved that. He was so used to roughness and cruelty that he almost forgot that softness existed. Zhang Yixing wasn’t a saint, he was a sneaky fox like person who wanted to take advantage of him but at the same time he radiated of innocence and purity; an evil demon disguised as a pure hearted angel. Jongin had no idea how the Chinese male managed to pull that off, but at the moment he couldn’t care less. What he needed wasn’t nor random people’s attention, he was in a dire need for some human interaction; for someone to care and treat him like he was made of glass for once. He wanted to wake up next to a warm body that wouldn’t leave as soon as she or he gets paid. For once, Jongin wanted to come back home from work and find a smiling face to welcome him with gentle touches and soft kisses. Someone to laugh at his stupid jokes and ran his fingers through his hair as he complains for hours about his cruel, sad excuse of a father.

But then again, Yixing was the same as everyone else. He needed a job, a new opportunity in life that only Jongin can provide. He didn’t want to wait for Jongin to get back home from work with a dimpled grin, he didn’t want to ran his thin slender fingers through Jongin’s dark hair as he quietly listened to his ranting with occasional soothing hums—no, actually, Yixing wanted nothing to do with him as a person. Just like everyone else, the Chinese male with bright sparkling eyes wanted to get to his father; to Kim Jongsu’s good side with Kim Jongin’s help. But in reality, even Kim Jongin wasn’t on his father’s good side, nobody was actually.

“Yixing?” The guy in question hummed. For some reason, Yixing being the same as everyone else didn’t change the way he was drawn to the Chinese male at all. He knew he was going to regret taking this irrational decision, but for the first time since a long time Jongin found himself not caring. If Yixing was intending to use him then so was he. It wouldn’t hurt to let loose from time to time, to change the rules for once and get himself out of the colorless, tasteless life he was living at the moment. It also didn’t hurt helping someone as pitiful as Zhang Yixing get on his feet and find a proper job. Especially if that job was going to take all of his time and keep him as far away as possible from that guy with the permanent scowl on his face. “Yixing, come to my office tomorrow morning and we’ll talk.”

“Why? Can’t we just talk right now—“

“Don’t you want the job?” Yixing blinked in daze for a second before barking an answer.

“Of course I do! Why else would I be standing here for?”

“Well then, make sure to be at my office tomorrow morning.” Jongin deadpanned and couldn’t help but smile when he heard the other male mutter a confusion laced ‘Huh’ as an answer. Yixing was too cute to be a gold digger but oh well, looks can be deceiving as they say, and in Zhang Yixing’s case, looks are definitely deceiving. Jongin took a long breath in relief when Yixing finally took a leave with a loud cheery ‘see you tomorrow then, boss’. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally. His encounter with his father earlier that morning was still replaying in his head, his father was so close to getting him knocked out with a mere punch. He couldn’t fight back, because Kim Jongsu was his father no matter how cruel he was to him; and for some reason he couldn’t even defend himself. Subc