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Detective Jeon Jeongguk of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency has long chased after serial jewellery thief Park Jimin—a.k.a. the Alleycat—for years, starting from his early years as an assistant police officer in their shared hometown, Busan—an irony not lost on him—but each time he gets close enough to capture the elusive conman, another emergency or more urgent case takes priority. Jeongguk’s none too pleased about the frequency of it happening, but he doesn’t have the seniority to negotiate a complete focus, especially when other cases end up being a big deal for their precinct, from gaining a lead to the whereabouts of a notorious serial killer, dealing with hostile perps in a bank robbery, and investigating a Chaebol abduction to upending a massive social enterprise fraud in the heart of the city. Big cases, sure. But he just wished he could finally close this chapter—it didn’t matter that he’s faced backlash on several occasions for missing the Alleycat.
Like, no, he doesn’t give two fucks about keyboard warriors worshipping the Alleycat’s slippery tactics over the precinct’s incapability to apprehend the conman—it was the infuriating messages that the thief leaves him in crime scenes as taunts that get him howling for his capture. His file’s nearly full of photocopies of the Alleycat’s mockery—I’ll tie you up with your necktie, how about it, Detective? Or stuff like, That polo shirt’s about to burst open, just like how I’d have you kneeling—and he just. He’s so tired of it.
But whatever.
It was part of the job.
Even, well, if that meant going solo after receiving an anonymous tip about a potential heist happening this evening in a recently opened luxury jewellery flagship store in Gangnam. He hasn’t told his superior officer on the off chance that his reconnaissance proved futile, so he was determined to see if it will involve the thief or not—well, who was he kidding? He’s certain that the Alleycat will be the culprit. The conman could never resist the allure of diamonds worth billions of won. Diamonds were always his style, the Alleycat wearing chains of it around his neck to compliment his black-clad attire.
It could only be one Park Jimin, not anyone else.
Hour three into the rogue operation, though, he’s bit off more than he could chew.
It wasn’t the conman.
It was the Beolgyo-pa.
A fucking gang.
Golden luck he’s got there, huh.
Jeongguk could guess why a luxury store opted for a local syndicate to protect them given the recent string of burglaries that the Alleycat successfully pulled off, but was that really the best choice?
Damn it, he thinks, running off to escape four gang members hot on his heel.
He almost couldn’t, not after getting knocked down earlier in a dead end he didn’t realise he was getting cornered into. Panting, he bumps on people on his way towards a lot he parked his car into earlier, and just when he thought he was in the clear, his head gets hit on the side. Jeongguk gets knocked out—the last thing he hears being the soft click of a gun being loaded as his vision swirls into oblivion.
It was already well into the night when he woke to see the Alleycat glaring at him.
“What’re you doing here?” Jeongguk jolted, trying to get up from the floor but failing from the bruises he got earlier. Three syndicates he could handle, but four? Geez, he’s not Batman.
The conman’s face didn’t change.
Sharp, dark eyes still bore holes at him, making him shiver.
“I don’t think you understand, Detective,” the dark-haired man sneered at him.
Jeongguk arched a brow.
“No one else gets to hurt you,” the Alleycat whispered, though it felt like the words rang loud in the night. “Not anyone.”
“What the fuck do you—?” he tried to say, only to have the other kneel in front of him after short, brisk steps.
“No one else, but me,” Jimin seethed, grabbing the lapels of Jeongguk’s coat, snarling the longer his dark eyes zeroed in at the blood-slit lip of the detective’s mouth.
What the fuck.
The hilarity of it all has Jeongguk laughing at him brokenly.
“Not like you haven’t, Jimin-ssi,” he answers hoarsely, trying to get away from the older man’s hold before doubling over from pain.
Jimin settles him with a hold on his jaw.
“Don’t move.”
He doesn’t know why he held still.
It’s not because of that chilling voice, no.
Rather, it was Jeongguk’s surprise as the thief opened a small first aid kit from his coat and his wound being gently treated as they sat on the floor. The conman’s dark eyes silenced him as Jeongguk hissed, not expecting the burn from the antiseptic on his lips.
“I said, don’t move, Detective,” Jimin’s smooth voice stilling him, the older’s eyes darkening when Jeongguk’s breath hitches—except this time, Jeongguk isn’t sure if it’s from the pain or if he’s scared by the ferocity in Jimin’s eyes.
It doesn't make sense, he thinks, knowing who they were to each other—a criminal treating a cop who's been chasing him for years.
It doesn't make sense.
And it shouldn't.
But his vision is hazy right now, the night's cascade paints Jimin’s face, making him notice the sharpness of his jaw and the way his dark eyes are focused on him—and something slithers in his gut, fire licks in a dark blue sky.
Suddenly, everything came into place, like the earth shifting after an earthquake or volcanoes outpouring lava to birth new seas, new mountains to give rise to a new horizon—wait, what the fuck, what was he waxing poetry about??
Then their eyes met, breaths stuttering in quiet realisation—the thief has taken to straddling his hips to keep him from moving. They were so close. So, so close, that everything was zero between their hips.
And just now, Jeongguk realised quite late, as he looked up at the Alleycat—the distance between their faces, nearly zero between their lips.
Why, why does that fact feel like a blooming flower somewhere in his chest?
And why did it look like Jimin was glowing in front of him?
They both swallowed, silence thick.
Nothing breaks.
Not until Jimin placed a hand on his hip, lifting the hem of his shirt until his gloves traced a crescent on the length of his waist. Jeongguk’s breaths are paced as the older nears his ears.
"Then let me hurt you good, Detective," Jimin’s lips barely outline the slope of his neck.
Jeongguk shivers, goosebumps spreading all over his skin when the other bites the shell of his ear, "Let me hurt you real good, you forget who we are to each other. No one's chasing. No one's pulling tricks. Just you and I, ain't that criminal, detective?”
Jeongguk breaks.
He forgets everything hours later—Jimin shredding his clothes in the abandoned parking lot, spreading his thighs beneath him against his car, husky voice deepening further when they kiss roughly, insatiable in the unleashed lust.
Laughing against his mouth, Jimin whispers, "You make a dangerous portrait in your uniform. But leather, oh my.”
Jimin slides their tongues together, unforgiving in his kiss, "Pure evil. Maybe you’re the criminal here.”
“Fuck,” Jeongguk stutters as the other shamelessly slides their cocks together in his hand, so he retaliates by sucking hard on Jimin’s neck, right at his mole so he wouldn't forget that he caught the Alleycat like this, all dark and dangerous, their bodies seeking an intertwine Jimin can’t also seem to get enough of.
The thought has him smirking, mind gone as he whispers back, "Your gloves aren't exactly holy—wanna spread my cum all over, make it pretty.”
Jimin curses, their pants rolling down their knees as he licks his fingered gloves before pushing it inside Jeongguk’s mouth. His smile is wild as they stare at each other.
"You need a little water to make the paint spread, hmm? Open your mouth for me, pretty,” Jimin orders, curling his gloved fingers inside his mouth as he opens it wider. “Just like that, Jeongguk-ah, yeah.”
His voice has Jeongguk’s knees go weak, legs trembling, parting wide—enough for Jimin to grind harder against him, pushing his back on the hood of his car. Jeongguk loses himself on their saliva mixing together inside his mouth as Jimin gets ready to pump one of his fingered gloves below with a bottle of lube from his coat. Once Jimin deemed it wet enough, the detective spread his legs wider, welcoming the other’s fingers as it circled all over his rim before he pushed one finger in, making Jeongguk gasp loudly—something Jimin silences with a soft kiss, pumping his hole until he slides in another, the burn making the detective hold onto the thief’s shoulders as the kiss grew deeper, their mouths opening wider as Jimin scissors him open.
Jeongguk tugs at Jimin’s hair, earning him a grunt, but the burn was so sweet, so fiery that it wasn't enough anymore so he bites the older’s lower lip, dragging the plumpness so he could get his attention. Jimin releases a low moan as he opens his eyes and stares back at him, pupils blown wide.
"Take me now," Jeongguk orders this time around, grabbing Jimin’s length and pumping it until the thief lets out a choked whine. "I'll catch you later, Jimin-ssi. Mark my words. I will."
The Alleycat smirks at him, lubing his rim some more and then taking a packet of condom somewhere in his coat before tearing it open with his teeth.
"Fuck me hard if you do," Jimin teases as he rolls the condom on, placing both hands on Jeongguk’s hips to align his cock on the detective’s entrance.
Jeongguk grabs the back of the older’s neck, causing Jimin to slide in him further, the slickness making them gasp aloud.
He doesn't care, though. He wants Jimin loud.
"When I do—" Jeonngguk chokes as Jimin pulls out and thrusts hard, going deeper, "—f—uck."
Jeongguk tries to repeat what he’s struggling to say as Jimin tears at his hole relentlessly, “I'll—I’ll fucking mark your skin with my mouth, put my signature all over you, make you a painting."
The Alleycat laughs, fucking the detective harder as he whines and moans loudly—Jeongguk is being torn apart, fuck, he didn’t expect someone so smaller than him to be so thick and so long—like, fuck.
But he’s not the only one losing it—Jimin’s panting against him too, grip on him so tight and cruel, making Jeongguk push up to meet each hard thrust.
"You're mine, fuck. You're my painting. and you'll make me yours, hmm, Detective? Ain't that right?" Jimin finishes for him with bruising hands on his hips, red blooming on his skin, Jeongguk knows for sure, and it was fucking fine, fucking fine when he's also traced blue all over Jimin’s neck, mind swirling with only the older’s name until—
Fuck!
He’s come untouched—yet Jimin maintains the rough pace, grabbing his legs to curl around his waist, hitting his perineum again and again, and he somehow goes even deeper inside him—the slide so wet it has Jimin breathing hard against his lips several minutes after he spilled inside the condom.
Jimin moves to pull out, but he was having none of it, holding him closer by wrapping his arms around the older’s neck—mind hazy, forgetting who they were to each other.
Not cop, not criminal.
Just two people making out in a parking lot, but he doesn't care, he forgets—
As long as it was just the two of them, just Jimin and Jeongguk—their heated kisses slowing down until they pause in between to take a few breaths and move back before diving in when their eyes meet each other's, lips swollen red and tongues tracing the inside of each other's mouth like they were lovers, like they didn't want to let go, like they mattered to each other more than they ever let the other know because they weren't anyone else's, even if they knew that wasn't the case, and that they shouldn't be kissing like this, like rain wasn't falling right now, like fuck—
They couldn't care less because they were holding each other, and everything was zero, everything was nothing, everything was right here because it hurts so good and damn all the nights chasing each other, the law was nothing—fucking nothing if it meant being like this, being together when everything was so wrong between them, but it doesn't matter.
It fucking doesn't, because when they both finally let go of each other, nothing felt right. Nothing felt right until they kissed slowly again—Jimin holding onto Jeongguk's collar as the detective tugs at his arms, not wanting to stop whatever was happening between them.
Their kisses eventually mellowed down to pressing their lips on each other’s faces and whatever expanse of skin they could reach with their eyes closed until they halted, the older man cradling his face gently.
Jimin didn't open his eyes—Jeongguk could feel it against his lashes—not even as he whispered, "You belong to me, Detective. Do you deny it?"
Jeongguk hasn't opened his eyes too, trying his best to remember everything about this night, wondering if it was fate's design to have them meet like this tonight. It was hard to hold back and ask for another taste of the older man’s lips, but he was breathing hard, taking in the words Jimin spoke of, and there was only one truth singing in his mind.
“I cannot… deny you.”
He feels Jimin smile against his lips, "Then catch me if you can, Detective."
—And just like that, with Jeongguk's eyes firmly closed as the evening wind howled beneath the golden moon, Jimin slithered away from his touch, the space between them turning from zero to a thousand, to a million.
"Fuck," Jeongguk whispers, touching his lips.
The tingling hasn't gone away—and he suspects it won't, not ever.
Like Jimin has, with all the moon-eye smiles he's flashed his way to taunt him for all the failed captures. But he'll find him.
Follow him.
In this life or any other.