Title: Tequila Sunrise

Pairings: Kai/D.O, fake!D.O/Luhan, implied!Luhan/Tao or Luhan/Yixing (whichever

suits your fancy)
Rating: R
Word Count: 4,257
Warnings: Incest, sex trade, human trafficking, kidnapping
Summary: Tequila sunrises are beautiful, but they always come with a little blood
on the horizon.

It was the morning after Jongins fifteenth birthday that Kyungsoo woke up
and found the kitchen vent torn open, one of Jongins slippers lying lifeless on
the floor directly beneath the gaping hole in the wall, a faint line of deep,
glistening red at the edge of the opening. He was just about to drive Jongin to
school. It was cold where they were, which made Kyungsoo irritable, and even
though last night they had said their goodnights on just as good terms as usual,
something about the thin outlines of crimson drops drying into brown made
him want to run back into Jongins room and cry over this little thing and say
that he was sorry.
That was not how it went, because when Kyungsoo finally managed to knock
down the door to Jongins room with one of the kitchen chairs, Jongin wasnt
there. His pajamas were thereripped and thrown all over the carpetalong
with his comforter, which had been dragged from the bed and onto the floor,
but he was not. The room was empty, and the window was broken, and
Kyungsoos heart was beating in his ears and his stomach was in his throat and
everything was in the wrong place except for the photo of them, untouched in
its frame on the corner of the desk, and Jongin, who was nowhere at all.
A normal brother, Kyungsoo thought, a good brother, might have completely
lost it and panicked and gone climbing through the vent. But Kyungsoo
considered himself in this moment to be a horrible brother, not only because
this had happened while he was asleep, but also because he could still think
rationally enough to run to his computer and check the CCTV footage from last
night. Of course, there was nothing. The gangs that ran here now claimed to be
extensions of the Korean mafia, after all, and his bachelors degree in

engineering was probably no match for whatever misguided geniuses wanted

to work for the bad guys.
This was when Kyungsoo panicked and scrambled into the vent, swearing up
and down and over his dead body that he would find Jongin and bring him
back safe, no matter what it took.
--Two mornings after Jongins fifteenth birthday, Kyungsoo woke up in the
hospital. Eunji was holding his hand by the bed, staring at it as though she
were counting every cell in every tissue under the bandages covering his fist.
She didnt even notice when he woke up. He didnt want her to notice, so he
lay still. He looked at her face. Her nose was a swollen red blotch on her face
and her eyelids were puffy from crying. Her breaths came unevenly; he could
see her shoulders shaking at every inhale. She wasnt crying right then, though.
He looked at her, and looked at her, imagined running his fingers through her
disheveled hair and hugging her close so that she could cry on his shoulder. He
thought about kissing her and telling her he was okay and that she shouldnt
cry anymore, kissing her passionately and making love to her on the hospital
bed.
He looked away. Her hand looked so small on the bandage over his fist, so pale
next to the patches of red and brown from his wounds. I love you, he thought,
but his mouth was too dry to speak. He pretended that she could hear him and
went back to sleep.
When Kyungsoo woke up in the afternoon, Eunji was still there, holding his
hand, staring at it. She hadnt moved a single inch while he was sleeping. Her
face was normal again, but she was still sniffling.
Lee Eunji, he said. He wondered if she could hear him. He couldnt even hear
himself.
Eunji came to life like a statue enchanted by some otherworldly tap of the
wand. She looked at him and her eyes crinkled up in a smile and her lip
quivered and she squeezed his hand so tightly that he could feel it through the

bandages. Do Kyungsoo, she said, trying to sound stern as she usually did.
But just like always, Kyungsoo could hear the smile in her voice.
(Three days ago, Kyungsoo had gone out to visit Eunji, leaving Jongin at home
to do his schoolwork. They hadnt fought over it, really, but the weather made
Kyungsoo irritable and although Jongin had not known in the slightest that
Kyungsoo had been annoyed at him, Kyungsoo still felt bad for it now.
Because Jongin had this age-old habit of imitating Eunjis delicate voice when
she tried to sound stern saying his name over the phone. Do Kyungsoo, he
would say in a stupid high-pitched voice from inside his room. Last night,
Kyungsoo had responded that dinner was ready and that he should go to sleep
by ten, okay? Jongin had replied, Do Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo had repeated
himself, and when Jongin said, Do Kyungsoo again, Kyungsoo had told
Jongin, Youre a real itch in the balls sometimes, you know that? Do
Kyungsoo!
Kyungsoo had left then, remembering in the back of his mind that Jongins
dinner was their last bowl of Shin Ramyun, and that his own stomach had been
growling when he cooked it.)
She was crying on his shoulder now. Suddenly he didnt want to kiss her
anymore. Her weight hurt him and he had to find Jongin, so he wiped her tears
as best he could with his bandaged fist and asked her, What happened?
Like it was in the movies, this only made her cry harder. He tried to figure it out
himself, but all he really remembered was climbing through the vent, looking
for Jongin. Instead of Jongin, hed found someone else; a trembling little boy
with wide eyes and messy, mud-caked hair who spoke to him in accented
Korean just to say, Leave now. Leave now. Please.
Instead of listening, Kyungsoo had tried to undo the little boys handcuffs while
asking for Jongin, but the boy just kept saying, Leave now, leave now, please.
There were sounds down the length of the vent, but Kyungsoo refused to
leave. That was all he could remember.
Eunji, what happened? I need to find Jongin.

Eunji shook her head. The cops are already searching, she said, Leave it to
them.
For a while, Kyungsoo stayed quiet. Then, softly, he said, Lets break up.
What?
Wincing, he pushed her away and hoisted himself off the bed, limping his way
out the door.
--Two months later, Kyungsoo finds himself in an abandoned subway station
halfway between Ilsan and Pungsan for an auction hosted by the three biggest
players in the underground sex trade. Eunji has been calling him every day
since he left the hospital without proper discharge, and although he hasnt yet
called her back, he keeps all her messages on his phone. Before he takes
another step towards the auction, he listens to her last message again.
Hey, Kyungsoo. I know you didnt mean it. I know I start every message like
this but I cant tell if youve been getting them. I just want you to know that Im
still here for you, okay? And Im sorry I said that. I should have known better. If
you want, Ill come along and help. I miss you. I hope you find your brother,
but please dont do anything stupid. Please come home soon.
Taking a deep breath, he bites down on his lip and texts her, I love you.
He turns off his phone and walks toward the door at the corner, straightening
out his suit and rolling his shoulders back. From behind the door, he can
already hear voices calling out bids. It crosses his mind that Jongin was
probably sold a long time ago if this is truly what happened to him. They have
the same genes, after all. Shaking the thought away, he tugs his fedora down
over his forehead and keeps his head down, looking up at everything through
his bangs, and shoves his way to the front of the crowd.
A ridiculous number of young boys stand in a row before him, some of them

naked, some of them wearing clothing that appear more like rags taped on in
random places. Kyungsoo feels his eyes burning, but examines each and every
one of them, just to make sure that his brother isnt there.
His eyes catch on a thin, almost emaciated boy who is staring right back at him.
There is a jagged bit of dirtied white T-shirt hanging around his neck and a rag
over his crotch. Its not Jongin, but something about him looks so familiar. He
thinks bitterly that if theyd feed him a bit more, he might be able to recognize
him. One of the auctioneers follows his gaze and grabs the boy by the tiny bit
of T-shirt, effectively ripping it straight off before he slides his hand down the
boys arm and tugs his wrist, bringing him towards Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo notices
that he isnt trembling so much as he was just a few seconds ago.
I see one of our boys has caught your attention?
The boy peers at him cautiously. Kyungsoo feels bile rising up in the back of his
throat when he does it, but he looks the boy over from head to toe as slowly as
he can, eyes lingering over the crotch-rag for emphasis. He takes the boy by
the shoulders and turns him around, then does the same thing with his
backside. The auctioneer taps his foot. Whats hindering you? Hes one of our
finest, if youre into the skinny type. Go ahead, inspect the goods. He smacks
the boys ass, eliciting a cracked yelp. Kyungsoo does his best to suppress his
wince and says, 75,000 won.
What part of hes one of our finest dont you understand?
Alright, 80,000.
The starting bid is at 150,000.
The kid looks like hes been starved for three centuries. I bet hed fall apart
with one crack of the whip. At this, the boys eyes widen and he begins to
tremble. Kyungsoo feels as though hes going to cry himself. Besides, if hes
the finest, how come youre not putting him up on the stand for bidding?
100,000, and Ill pay in cash.
The auctioneer considers this for a moment before looking around the room,

trying to catch another customers eye. Pursing his lips, he finally says, Fine.
Hand it over.
Reaching into his suit, Kyungsoo pulls out a wad of cash and hands it to the
auctioneer. When he finishes counting the money, he shoots Kyungsoo a smile
and holds out his hand to shake, but all of a sudden the room is spinning and
his head feels much too heavy and something feels as though its reaching out
of his stomach straight into his esophagus, searching for his throat, so he grabs
the boys hands and shoves his way back through to the station outside.
When he finally catches his breath, he turns to the boy, who has already gone
back to trembling as much as he was before he saw Kyungsoo and who seems
to be searching for an escape, gaze darting side to side along the train tracks in
front of them. Biting his lip, Kyungsoo shrugs his suit off and drapes it around
the boy, gently taking his hand and searching for something to say. The only
thing he can think of is, Im not going to whip you.
The boy blinks at him, silent, and Kyungsoo notices that hes so thin he looks as
though hes drowning inside the jacket hes just been given. He shakes his head
and guides the boy away from the station, leading him along the walkway at
the side of the subway tunnel, back to the Ilsan station. His car is parked right
beside the exit and fortunately, there arent many people this late at night. He
nudges the boy into his car and drives back to his apartment.
After they get in, Kyungsoo makes the boy a bed on the couch and offers him
some of Jongins old clothing as pajamas. He doesnt say anything when he
accepts the clothing, just puts it on and sits down on the couch, back straight,
eyes wide and alert. Kyungsoo brings him a glass of water and a bag of expired
Ritz crackers, then sits down beside the boy and stares across the room. He
isnt quite sure what hes doing or what hes supposed to do from here, but he
does it regardless.
An hour or so later, the boys quiet voice startles Kyungsoo from his thoughts.
Sir, were you the one looking for your brother in the vent?
Kyungsoos bottom lip quivers. He nods. Strangely enough, he cant tell if hes

tearing up because of Jongin or because he remembers the boy now. In front

of him, the pack of Ritz crackers is empty, and so is the cup of water.
I am the boy who
I know, Kyungsoo says. I remember.
I am sorry that I could not stop them from
Dont be.
They listen to the faint sound of leaves rustling in the trees outside for a while
before the boy speaks again.
Are you still looking for him?
Yes.
Another brief silence. The boy turns to face Kyungsoo. Thank you for saving
me.
Kyungsoo says nothing.
You mean for me to help you look for your brother, do you not?
Again, nothing. The boy turns away and lies down on the couch, curled up
tightly. When Kyungsoo looks at him, for just a brief moment, he sees Jongin
lying there in his pajamas, sleeping on the couch like he did that one time
when he stayed up too late during homework and fell asleep with his cheek on
his calculus textbook, drooling all over the pages. He almost leans forward to
pick the boy up and carry him to Jongins bed, just like he did back then, before
he blinks and sees unfamiliar eyes peering up at him.
He doesnt know when it starts, but far too soon hes been reduced to a
sobbing mess in the boys arms. He buries his face in Jongins old clothing and
breathes in and cries and cries and cries, cries until he falls asleep to the
rhythm of a strangers breathing, a stranger who tells him, Its okay, I will help

you. Its okay.

--By the time Luhan and Kyungsoo find out anything about Jongin, its already
been a year since Jongins kidnapping. They catch wind of him after another
auction, when one of the auctioneers hosts an after party at his mansion for a
select few who he probably picked based on how much he wanted to fuck
them or their slaves. After all, Kyungsoo concedes, Luhan has developed into
quite the looker. Hes had a growth spurt after getting a decent caloric intake
and doesnt look half-bad in the suit he wears when Kyungsoo parades him
around as his personal butler. And anyone would have to be blind to miss the
way the auctioneer licked his lips when he saw Luhan in the corner. It sent a
visible shiver through Luhans body, and Kyungsoo almost felt bad enough that
he might have rejected the invitation.
I think Jongin may be there, Luhan said when Kyungsoo pulled him behind
one of the cement pillars supporting the structure, cupping his cheeks and
searching his eyes for tears. I think you cannot give it up for me.
Luhan, if you dont want to be here, you cant say that to me. You know I
wont let you go home now, god dammit.
We are all selfish. I owe you my life, so it is only fair that my wants concede to
yours. I will be okay.
Shaking his head, Kyungsoo salutes the auctioneer and wraps an arm around
Luhans waist, tugging him forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see
Luhans lips twitching, struggling to smile.
You the auctioneer calls, quirking an eyebrow, Is he yours?
Tightening his grip just enough for Luhan to feel it, Kyungsoo quirks an
eyebrow right back. Yeah, hes mine.
Youve got him all dressed up, havent you?

Ill have you know, hes my personal butler. Classier than anyone elses little
toys here.
Pampering him, are you?
I figure I owe it to him for the quality of his services.
How much if I want to borrow those services for a night?
Under his arm, Luhan tenses. Kyungsoo holds his breath, hesitating for just a
second before he says, Sorry, I dont think you can afford that.
Try me.
Panicking just a little, Kyungsoo slides his hand away and grabs Luhans hand,
squeezing it tight. Luhan doesnt reciprocate, and Kyungsoo knows that there
is a line to be crossed at this point. He stops. Swallows back the lump forming
in his throat.
I said, try me.
Two million, Kyungsoo blurts, gripping Luhans hand so tightly that he might
snap the fingers right out of their sockets. Two million for one night. Cash.
That impressive, hm?
Kyungsoo doesnt respond.
Consider it a deal.
When the man turns away, Kyungsoo sees Luhans shoulders shudder. He
doesnt know why, but he half expects Luhan to grin and bear it and tell him
its okay. Its not. Luhan says nothing. Taking a deep breath, Kyungsoo lets go
of Luhans hand and stands in front of him, gripping Luhans shoulders and
rubbing his arms as soothingly as he can.
I will get you out of this, alright? I promise.

Luhan says nothing.

--In the limousine on the way to the auctioneers mansion, Kyungsoo notices
that the auctioneers slave has the same accent as Luhans. Though Luhan pulls
away this time when Kyungsoo leans over to whisper, Kyungsoo manages to
get close enough to whisper, recon, before accepting a drink from the
auctioneer and chugging the whole thing, placing his bets on his tolerance. He
talks as loudly as he can while Luhan and the other slave whisper in Chinese.
Somewhere along the way, Luhan lets Kyungsoo slip an arm around his waist
again.
When they reach the mansion, the crowd and the music give them a fair
amount of background noise. Luhan leans down toward Kyungsoos ear and
whispers, There are handguns in the masters bedroom, by the headboard.
Loaded.
Kyungsoo shudders, but nods and starts on his way toward the door. On his
way down one of the hallways, the auctioneer comes out from one of the
bedrooms, shooting him a grin when he catches his eye.
Ill offer you one of my best, since youre renting me yours.
Kyungsoos eyes dart toward the door. Really? How much?
If youre satisfied, Ill just ask for a 50% discount on the offer you made me
earlier.
I highly doubt Ill be that satisfied.
Alright. Twenty-five? I mean, its my bedroom, so I think youre renting out
more than just my slave.
Deal.

When he walks in, he notices holes in the walls and immediately turns back.
Taking a deep breath, he puts on his best smirk and runs his fingers over the
grooves. Youve got guns?
Yeah. You into that?
Kyungsoo shrugs. A little. Maybe.
You think I have a right to judge you? You into it or not?
Okay, okay. Im into it.
The auctioneer fumbles around in his pocket for a bit before tossing Kyungsoo
a pair of keys. Go for it.
Kyungsoo gives his best smile to the auctioneer before shutting the door
behind him and sighing in relief. Yet when he rushes over to the bed, the voice
that comes from under the covers strips away all the anticipation and leaves
him with nothing but cold, freezing him in his place.
Hyung, is that you?
Without thinking, Kyungsoo drops the keys and rushes forward, tugging the
covers away to expose Jongins body, peppered in blacks and blues and
purples, streaked with pink scratches and occasional red hues that Kyungsoo
refuses to recognize. Before he can even make a move to cup his cheeks or kiss
his forehead or inspect his wounds or even tell him that yes, its him, hes here
and everything will be alright, the auctioneer bursts back into the room.
Hope you dont mind if I watch.
Kyungsoo nearly chokes on his spit, backtracking a little bit to pick up the keys
before he turns around. What?
Well, I figure, if Im getting a discount based on your satisfaction, Id like to
make sure that you give me whatever discount I deserve.

Im not really into exhibitionism, Kyungsoo attempts, clutching the keys. I

dont think youll get as much of a discount this way?
The auctioneer raises his eyebrows. Suddenly impatient, Kyungsoo rolls his
eyes and raises his arms in mock surrender. He just wants to go home, just
wants to bring Jongin home and clean him up and get him medical attention,
go back to Eunji, visit her at graduate school, make life normal again.
Alright, fine.
--Im doing this because I love you, okay? Kyungsoo says, lip quivering, hands
shaking as he fumbles with the zipper of his jeans. His fingers grip the metal tip
so tightly that hes sure hes broken skin. God, Im so sorry, Jongin. Im so
sorry.
Jongin shakes his head, smiling as he licks the tears that streak down towards
the corners of his lips. Its okay, hyung.
Biting his lip, Kyungsoo holds back a sob and tries to steady his breathing.
Whatever you do, dont call me hyung now. Dont call me that until I tell you
its over. Remember Eunji? You always used to imitate her. Do that, okay?
Dont call me hyung.
Jongin nods. With a deep breath, Kyungsoo squeezes his eyes shut, tugs his
jeans off, and leans down to kiss his little brother. The gun is cold in his hand.
He doesnt know how to use it this way. He should probably just try to shoot
the auctioneer now but he doesnt even know if the gun is really loaded. He
probably couldnt even aim it right.
With his eyes shut, Kyungsoo imagines Eunji beneath him: that he is peppering
kisses along her jaw, dragging his lips down her neck, sucking at her skin,
leaving little marks all along the way. That he can feel her chest under his
hands, the curves of her body, the softness of her thighs, the warmth of being
inside her in the most intimate of ways. But the illusion can only last so long,
and before he knows it, Eunji disappears and his own brother replaces her, a

sweaty mess beneath him, sinewy muscle around lanky limbs, skin glistening a
little too well in the light with a damp layer of exhaustion.
Before he knows it, Jongins name is leaving his lips instead of Eunjis, and
Jongin is calling h-hyung! and something uncoils inside of him and the next
moment hes collapsed beside his little brother, panting, gazing at him behind
half-lidded eyes. He looks so beautiful like this, Kyungsoo thinks, so beautiful.
And then it hits him.
Before he can contain it, hes whimpering into the pillow, barely holding
himself back from tears.
You called me hyung, Jonginoh, God, you called me hyung. I told you not
to do thatI said dont call me that, Jongin, I saidfuck, Im so sorry, Im so
sorry, Jongin, Im sorry.
Without batting an eyelash, Jongin turns to face Kyungsoo, smiling. Its okay,
hyung. I dont mind. You did it because you love me right? Suddenly, his voice
is quivering. All this time, youre the only one who did this because you love
me. So I dont mind, hyung. So long as you love me.
Taking a deep breath, Kyungsoo pushes himself up and meets the auctioneers
gaze.
Lets trade. Ill give you mine for free.
The auctioneer smiles. Great. I was getting tired of him, anyway.
On the way out, Kyungsoo slips the handgun into Luhans pocket.
--Three months later, Kyungsoo wakes up curled against Jongins bare chest,
sunlight filtering through the shades and lighting his jaw from just the right
angle. Its wrongits so wrongand Eunji doesnt know about it, and perhaps
Jongin will grow to hate him for it someday, but something sick and twisted

makes Kyungsoo feel that he deserves it. Starved of his brother for a year, he
deserves to satiate himself this way, just for a year, at the least. And the same
goes for Jongin. Its a sick and twisted world they live in, anyway, and people
are still trading little boys for sex and he traded Luhans life for his brothers.
Give and take, he tells himselfits all just give and take.
On this particular morning, a knock comes at the door and although Jongin
grips Kyungsoo tighter in an effort to stop him from getting up, he worms
himself out of bed anyway, stumbling groggily over to the door.
When he opens it, he sees a familiar boy in a suit, tie around his neck, gun in
his hand pointed upward. A familiar boy with broader shoulders, sharper
cheeks, slicked back hair, fuller features. When he speaks, Kyungsoo notices he
has no accent.
I cant tell anymore, he says, smirking, voice full of conceit even as his
expression softens, Do I owe you my life, or does your brother owe me his?