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“My office. Now.”
The voice on the phone sounded light. Nothing indicated anger or even any kind of fluctuation in the tone of voice. But Gusti knew that tone. Juragan only used it when he was really angry.
He sighed. It was his fault, he knew, clutching the knife wound on his left bicep. He failed to protect Sarah, which he was sure was some kind of insurance or important figure to Juragan, letting those insufferable duo kidnapped her, even earning the wound in the process. It was only a graze, but it hurt nonetheless, the gaping slash still bleeding sluggishly as he wrapped it tightly with his handkerchief. It’ll have to do for now. Boss didn’t like waiting.
Wiping his hands on his pants, making sure no blood would dirty Juragan’s expensive–looking door, he pushed on the handle and went in. Inside, Juragan stood stiffly behind his mahogany desk. Yeah. You’re fucked, Gusti.
Gusti thought the man would scold him on the spot. No, that was too light. Perhaps kill him with his dark magic. Or throw him to the pit filled with Tuyul ready to feast on his flesh. But Juragan simply frowned as he turned around, eyes focusing on the red stain on his arm.
“Come.” He beckoned on to one of the sofa in the room. He sat, nothing he could do but obey, Juragan just had that kind of presence. Making people want to do what he wishes. Submit to his will. Gusti tried not to think other ways he could “submit” to that man.
When Juragan walked closer, he could see disinfectant, cotton, and bandages on Juragan’s hands. Surprised, he almost didn’t notice the moment it touched his wound. He hissed in pain when he realized it. “Stay still.” Juragan said, almost uncharacteristically gentle. Gusti nodded.
No scolding, no anger, no murder weapon on sight. Unexpected. After a while, the silence became unbearable and he had to ask. His instinct told him that the danger had passed. Whatever consequences he had to bear before was pulled back at the sight of his injury. But why?
“Sir? I—”
“Wondering why I didn’t cast you out to the creatures already. Come, now, you must know that you are one of my most loyal followers. Very…valuable.”
He knew it might not mean like he thought, but Gusti can’t help but cast his eyes down. When he no longer felt eyes on him, he dared to look up and saw what his boss looked like.
Up close, he could see Juragan’s face more detailed. The curve of his nose. Slight wrinkle on his forehead. The texture of his beard, looking harsh but still made him wanted to run his hands through it, feel each and every sensation it gave his fingers and how it’ll feel against his cheeks and lips.
He averted his eyes, choosing to look Juragan on his eyes for once. What he saw surprised him. The man was looking back at him. Dark and so full of secrets, with thick eyebrows framing both eyes so perfectly they looked mysterious. Just like the first time he met the man, many years ago. Juragan guided him through the world of the supernaturals. A steady appearance among the unexpected danger.
It was sucking Gusti in and before he was aware of what he what was happening, a pair lips were suddenly collide harshly with him. Kissing him with ferocity he never felt before. He let out a surprised sound, attempting to move back and cleared his eyes because this was not happening. He was not being kissed by the most powerful man in these halfworlds, but a hand holding the back of his head gently stopped him.
So he did what he does best around Juragan. Submit. Letting the tongue, hot and persistent, exploring his mouth. Pulling him apart little by little. Juragan pulled him slowly, urging Gusti to put his thighs on each side of Juragan’s own. Vaguely, he could feel a hand sneaking on his waist, playing with the waistband of his pants then slowly moving towards his ass. Gusti moaned, loudly (oh my—get yourself together, Gusti). He… was about to have sex with Juragan. With. Juragan. Someone whose real name he didn’t even know. Who had no problem killing anyone as long as he could get what he wanted. This was actually happening.
“….sti.”
Who’s calling?
“Gusti.”
Honestly, Gusti didn’t know he should feel grateful or annoyed at that person.
“Gusti, are you listening?”
Fingers snapped in front of his face and, shit, he could kill himself right now from embarrassment.
He was, actually, still sitting on his ass in the same comfortable sofa on Juragan’s office. Juragan put his hands on Gusti’s shoulder firmly, grounding him to the bitter reality. A glance to his left and his wound was perfectly bandaged; Juragan apparently had a great medic skill on top of his magic and cunning.
When Gusti said nothing, still stunned with the realization, Juragan raised one of his eyebrows, a smirk on his lips, which, confusing enough, Gusti couldn’t stop looking at. He practically had to restrain himself internally so not to lick his lips.
“I, uh, I have to go.” Getting up in a hurry, he became aware of how tight his pants were. Thank god for the rainy season and his sorry excuse of a coat. But from the way Juragan’s eyes subtly flickered up and down his body, he had an inkling that the man knew. He always knew everything.
“No need to hurry. I’ve sent someone else to deal with the matter for the moment.” Again with the firm hand on his shoulder. “Sit. Relax.” He cocked his head. “How about dinner? I’m a pretty good cook myself.”
Was Juragan…flirting with him? Gusti suddenly had a vision about how romantic the dinner could be with Juragan. Fancy meal, still steaming and beautifully served. Red wine. Perhaps few candles on the table…
GUSTI. NO.
“Thank you, but I have to decline, sir. I already ate.” He had lied, and he knew in his heart that Juragan knew it too, but the man let it slide, nodding in understanding. “Very well.”
Something passed on Juragan's eyes. If Gusti didn't know better he said it was a disappointment. But it was Juragan he was thinking about. The man didn't lack a partner, from what he saw. Demit and human. Man and woman. All warmed his bed every night (although he was very careful about which demit he let into his bed. He knew he saw Bandi once. And Nadia. But never Gorga). Briefly after the easy smile was back on his face. “But you have to at least let my driver take you home. You won’t be able to handle another attack with that kind of injury.”
Gusti nodded, no harm in accepting this one. He was tired to the bone. A hot shower and change of clothes. That was what he needed.
He did just that when he went home, leaving his coat on the nearby chair to be used again tomorrow (it was still clean okay).
Imagine his surprise when he found a piece of paper with messages on one of his coat pocket, written in neat, black handwriting so familiar to him.
If dinner is too much, how about coffee?
And when he got to his office and found a cup of coffee brewed exactly to his liking…
…he really didn’t want to know how Juragan got that recipe he held so close to his heart.