Page 68 of Damian & Jun, Episodes 9-12
“Quite possible.”
Jun gave in with a huff. Émeric was astonishingly comfortable to lean into. His eyes fluttered and shut, and his breathing slowed. He wasn’t sleeping. He was…taking comfort. One of Émeric’s arms was around his back, his other arm on Jun’s thigh, holding him in place. The petticoats were everywhere, but Émeric smoothed them down into a tamed drooping flower lying over them both.
“What if I’m not enough?” Jun whispered. “What if not enough people like my music anymore? What if they like the stuff Bak produced better?”
“All five of you boys are talented, dedicated, bright young men. Millions of musicians and artists have changed trajectories in their careers and survived. The world is your audience. You don’t even need one percent of the entire globe to like you. A fraction of a percent, and you’re still a star.”
“That’s not how Bak and his people did their math.”
“From what little I know of your career, bright one, you’ve been woefully underutilized. The world is bigger than South Korea. You know it, your teammates know it. You come from three different countries. You could have a career, all five of you, without ever going back to South Korea or taking part in a single additional K-pop show.”
“That’s anathema. What about our fans?”
“Being more loyal to a set of people than that set of people is to you is a recipe for martyrdom and disappointment, little crime.”
Jun sniffed. “I do love my fans. I owe them so much.”
“Then write to them. Bring them with you, the ones who are willing. But don’t try to make something for them that doesn’t exist. Then they aren’t loving you, they’re loving an illusion, and you’ll feel it. You can’t drink from a cup that’s meant for a person who doesn't even exist.”
“Bak always told me how selfish I was.”
“Consider the yawning maw of greed that passed as his personality, being a sacrificial lamb is all he wanted you to aspire to be.”
Jun snorted. “I hate him. Why do parts of me still believe him?”
“Because there hasn’t been enough time yet for you to go back and pick apart all the lies.” Émeric pressed his lips to the top of Jun’s head. “That’s what Richard and I are here for. We won’t let you believe such things in peace. We’ll torture it out of you.”
Jun chuckled against Émeric’s collarbone. “Is that a threat?”
“No, a promise.”
“I haven’t consented to torture.”
“You will.”
“You sound so confident.” Jun tilted his head to see Émeric’s face. The man’s eyes were doing that infuriating twinkling thing again.
“I am. You want it. You’re curious.”
Jun opened his mouth to bite Émeric just above his collar but stopped. “Fuck, I don’t have permission to bite you either.”
Émeric laughed. “I’ll give you permission to bite me like a brat when you give me permission to treat you like one.”
Jun growled and thunked his head down. “Damian’s still my person, though.”
“We know. It’s clear as a diamond. Being a grand-dom sounds intriguing, though.”
Jun growled again and dropped his head gently against Émeric’s shoulder some more. This man’s amusement shouldn’t be making his stomach squirm and his dick hard. “You’re so fucking dangerous.”
“Does that mean I can dress you up and take you out again?”
Jun’s cheeks heated. He curled into Émeric’s chest. “Yes, as long as Damian’s not jealous, but just us. I’m not dressing like this all the time.”
Damian
Damian sank to his knees in front of Richard. His dom was in his favorite chair, the large wood-frame one that sat in the corner of the playroom behind the only locked door in The Residency. For the moment, they were both fully clothed, Richard in a dark button-down shirt with the sleeves folded back away from his wrists, and Damian in loose black linen pants and a matching Japanese housecoat belted at his waist.
The thick rug in front of the chair cushioned Damian’s knees and ankles as he settled in between the V of Richard’s legs. The soft light of the room, the familiar smell of polished leather that always came with being close to Richard’s chair, and the deadened sound that accompanied the heavy soundproofing of the inner room settled into Damian’s senses. He gripped his left wrist with his right hand and leaned forward, laying his head on Richard’s thigh.
