Page 51 of Damian & Jun: Episodes 1-4
That was it then. He had to find out now. At least then he would know if he should run. Because if Damian looked at him with those dark-brown eyes of his, he was going to melt and agree to things he shouldn’t. Maybe even a cage. The man was too damn tempting, his hands felt too good, and his voice made him feel too damn safe. But there had been a time when Bak had made him feel safe too. He needed to make a decision before Damian was there to mess with his head.
Path set, a sense of distance fell between Jun and the world around him. His vision narrowed. Sounds that were near echoed like they were faraway. The lights were bright but distorted. His skin tingled. He couldn’t feel his feet even though he was moving, getting up from the couch, and leaving Mi Hi’s coat behind. Everything was sharp and clear in his direct attention, but it was like a long tube, where everything outside of the hallway-sized tunnel of perception was blurred beyond cognition.
Some other part of himself took over his body, dropped his hips into a saunter, and pointed him across the room. He wove between the couches and screens and couples having high end dates, barely aware of them beyond the need to avoid. He hardly spared a glance toward the tall, dark Samoan bodyguard moving to intercept him. His heart was going to beat out of his chest, but this was just a performance. His hands were going numb, but he knew he looked calm. The lobby was his stage. He could sing through a panic attack; he could do this.
Richard lifted a hand, stopping his bodyguard from grabbing Jun’s arm. Jun stepped past the guard and directly into Reevesworth’s personal space. He smiled, moving his hair over his shoulder, and sank gracefully across Richard’s lap, draping one arm behind Richard's head, bracing himself on the back of the couch so he could look the man in the eye.
“Damian said you were coming down to see me.” He hadn’t known the words were going to come out of his mouth before they did. He was so close to Reevesworth’s face like this it would take no effort at all to kiss him. Maybe he should. Then he would really know.
Richard Reevesworth leaned back, putting a few more inches between them, one hand staying on the couch, his other holding his phone to the side, neither touching Jun even though Jun was fully sitting sideways on his thighs. “Did he now?”
Jun blinked slowly, to cover the fact he had no freaking idea of what to say. Somehow, he’d gotten this far; there was no plan. He was going off instinct. Instinct and long practice in pretending nothing was real. Everything was supposed to be in Richard Reevesworth’s court now. He’d laid himself out for the man. All the sleek playboys would be dropping grabby hands on his thighs by now, going by what he’d seen at parties and in movie scripts, but Richard was only leaning back, smiling a little. If anything, he seemed amused.
“He says you have lots of boys.” Jun tilted his head to the side. Hopefully, he looked coquettish and not ditzy. Good grief, Mi Hi was going to see him making a fool of himself. Why hadn’t he thought of that?
Don’t think. Don’t think. You do better when you just follow your gut. Or whatever crazy alien had taken over his body.
“I’ve had a few boys, yes. Damian has been one of them.” Richard tilted his head a little more, as if curious; his smile became even more amused. “Jealous?”
Jun’s eyes fluttered for real this time, confused. “Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”
“Do you want Damian all to yourself?”
Heat burned into Jun’s cheeks, but he couldn’t look away from Richard’s gaze. The man felt alive in a way most people weren’t unless they were artists like Gigi, enthralled with their lives and their work. That aliveness was burning through the haze that kept reality from breaking through. Jun’s breath sped up. No, he needed to maintain distance. He needed to not feel like this was real. He could panic later.
But Reevesworth was so fucking solid and focused, looking into Jun’s soul in a way no one was supposed to. He was dangerous, more dangerous than Jun had guessed. He started to stand.
“Stay, please.”
A hint of authority was threaded through the request. The burn in Jun’s cheeks grew, and he dropped his eyes, unable to resist by leaving the man’s lap. Fuck, was this what Damian meant by a dominant? They were being so inappropriate. This was Seoul, not Las Vegas.
“Someone is going to see.”
“Then they can see.” Richard’s gaze dared him to argue.
A rush of energy flashed through Jun’s bones. This was the man who had walked into a hostage retrieval and set off a flash bomb rather than choose between his husband and one of his lovers. A man who was still probably recovering from the bullets he’d taken directly after lighting it off.
Jun lifted his chin. “I’m not jealous.”
“No?” Richard raised an eyebrow. He lifted his free hand slowly, all the while maintaining eye contact. Centimeter by centimeter, he moved closer to Jun’s leg, almost as if he was daring Jun to call red.
The burn in Jun’s face was so fierce it prickled, but he didn’t say anything. He needed to know where that hand was going.
It settled on his knee, the outer portion, closer to his shin than his thigh.
“I’m a man, you know,” Jun said, voice low.
“I know. A gorgeous man.” Richard’s eye contact was freakishly unwavering. Had this man trained for acting, or was he just this comfortable with observing others and watching them squirm? Fuck, he was dangerous.
“Is that why you’re here?” The question dropped from Jun’s teeth like ice from his soul.
Richard blinked slowly, just once, his hand sliding away from Jun’s knee back to the couch. “I’m here for my boy. Whatever he needs.”
“Everything about this is trouble. I don’t think he should have come. I’m sorry I called.” I don’t want him to get hurt like Mi Hi.
“I’m glad you called.” Richard’s eyes were so fucking level they should be illegal. Maybe that’s where Damian got his solid gaze from, the one that made Jun feel like Damian was a mountain he could build a house on. “Handling trouble is something we’re familiar with. In The Residency, we handle trouble together.”
“I’m not Residency.”
