he scowls and shoves the man up against the wall, forearm across his throat, pressed against the underneath of his chin. “shut up,” he bites out, “shut up, shut up.” he knows the older man doesn’t see him as a threat, mocking little instructions taunting him from where they stand, even when he’s the one pinned to the wall.
“i know you did it,” he snaps, acid anger dripping from each word. he knows the butler was just provoking him, but fuck. it works. it’s blind, stupid anger that makes him stomp on the other man’s foot, but he misses it (of course he does) and he loses his advantage just like that, slips on expensive carpeting and nearly falls, taemin breaking it by yanking him up by the waist.
“not that easy,” the butler says, smirk on his face so frustrating he wants to slap it off. he’s outright gloating, tone sharp and sarcastic. “i thought you liked me but oh, bambam, what happened?”
he doesn’t let go of his waist, keeps it there and pulls him up, even closer, poised and so clearly pleased with himself. twisting away, he shoves himself up, hands clenched into fists. there is anger and humiliation now, fury white-hot but fighting isn’t what he knows, what he’s familiar with. he doesn’t know what to do, the confrontation he’d planned falling to pieces the second he’d cornered the butler.
taemin’s well aware of that too, fingers reaching out to tilt his head up. his smile reminds him of sharks.
“first thought, best thought.”
it's always at least a little entertaining when people try so hard for something they obviously have never done, and aren't any good at. taemin has always been a little bit of a bad apple; a dark, spoiled pit at the heart of him, black and rotten and impossible to get out. he's used to it by now, he's become familiar with the burning, achy feeling of it, the sickening stickiness of it all. killing someone had thrown him for a loop, but threatening people was one of his favorite past-times.
bambam has no idea who he has come for, no idea how to be intimidating, and as you might expect, taemin thinks it's cute, more or less. this poor, floundering baby, not sure at all about which direction to waddle into. he's too much shorter than taemin, too baby-faced, too naturally soft and squishy. it doesn't help him that just last night taemin had seen the kid screech and freak out so badly just from having seen him-- it's really ruined any hardcore image he might have wanted for himself.
so yeah, taemin smiles and chuckles throughout this entire exchange, his amusement only heightening when bambam loses his footing. oh my god. taemin has to catch him and then they're in such close proximity to each other, it's kind of impossible not to flirt a little. bambam had been the one to flirt with taemin their first night here, back when all this was a simple dinner party, so it makes sense that taemin could flirt back now, right? even with the circumstances being as they are.
"first thought, best thought," he teases, his finger just below the boy's chin. he might not be too certain about what bambam's thoughts are, but he knows his own are probably decidedly lustier.
it's a chance to maybe get his face smashed in, but taemin takes it, grabbing bambam's waist again and shoving him back against the wall, but not in the same way that bambam had done to him just moments ago. bambam had wanted to seem menacing, whereas taemin just wants a little bit of fun. he thrusts himself against the younger man, pinning his arms up by his head and his hips back with his own. he's got bambam's scrawny, unsteady legs all tangled around his own, which is exactly how he wants it, and he leans against the other chest to chest.
their faces are so close now taemin can see his eyes dilate, even in this dim, low lighting. "what makes you think i would kill him?" he presses his thigh against bambam's groin-- not hard, but enough to feel pressure-- and rubs it a little bit. “do i look like a killer?”
