A pretty, silver shining knife dragged down Tae-hwan's throat, tearing open the soft, supple skin, drawing crimson blood that dribbled out, staining his golden skin as he groaned out in pain, face scrunching up as he heard the sirens, a gun pointed to his side, more to the assassin behind him that had his front pressed to Tae-hwan's back, his knife pressed to Tae-hwan's throat, his other hand gripping Tae-hwan's locks harshly, pulling back to make room for the knife ad he threatened the police saying he'd kill innocent Tae-hwan if they took a step further.

Tae-hwan shouldn't feel this, he knew, oh, how he knew! He knew he shouldn't feel that the assassin behind him was hot, he shouldn't feel that blood looked hot on his hands, he shouldn't feel the need to lick it off the man's hands and kiss him right after so he'd feel the metallic taste, he shouldn't feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins at the way he was manhandled, oh and he definitely shouldn't feel himself get hard in a situation like this,

But he did.

And it felt good. Real good.

It was his little twisted game, after all.

The one he was real good at.