Park knew—deep in his core—Gift was his. That he belonged to Park in a way that was animalistic and instinctive. In a way that made Park willing to kill to defend and protect what belonged to him. He should feel guilty about it but he didn’t. It should tug at his conscience, but it didn’t. Park knew every emotion he was supposed to have in this situation and in others, but they just weren’t there.
He had spent this whole time trying to force himself to think like a normal person, to feel like a normal person. But he wasn’t normal. He hadn’t been for a very long time. And now that he’d made this decision, flipped this switch inside himself that had marked Gift as off-limits, he felt like himself again, like the Park he’d been before Gift had arrived on his doorstep, wrapped up like every wet dream Park had ever had.
He shoved his legs into black boxer briefs, then stood in front of the slightly foggy mirror. He stared at his reflection. He usually put his contacts in, then styled his hair into some sleek business appropriate look, but today, he just towel dried it roughly and trudged into the kitchen, grabbing the container of Khao Tom, eating it cold while leaning against the counter, simply because it was the closest thing at hand.
He stuffed a bite in his mouth, chewing contemplatively. Park wasn’t that strong. He wasn’t a good person. It had been easy to pretend he was when Gift was faking it, too, playing along, being his good boy. But now, the gloves were off and Park found it was much harder to fight who he really was when Gift no longer wanted to play his part. Though, to be fair, Gift hadn’t asked to be cast in the role of blushing virgin; it had been assigned to him.
By Park.
By Gift’s mother.
Gift wasn’t a child. He was an adult in every conceivable way. Park had only treated Gift as fragile because he’d believed Anchali when she said he was. And Gift’s behavior had confirmed it. But now…now everything was different. Gift was a person who knew exactly what he wanted and went for it. Demanded it, even.
Would it be the end of the world if Park gave him exactly what he’d been begging for? He would ease him into it, of course. He wouldn’t go straight to the punishments and restraints, no matter how much Gift begged. He needed to walk before he could run…so to speak. Park would take care of Gift. Park was exceptionally good at caring for his things. And Gift was his. His to fuck. His to use. His to love.
Anchali had given Gift to Park, and he knew now he was unwilling—maybe even unable—to return him. Gift had given Park something to look forward to. Seeing him lit up something deep in his core, something that he didn’t even think he was capable of feeling. Gift was the best part of Park’s life. Gift was just that…a gift. And it was rude to return a gift.
He snorted at the thought.
Once back in his bedroom, he put on a pair of steel gray trousers, then pulled on a black button down, checking himself in the mirror before he grabbed his gold-rimmed glasses and slid them on. Gift seemed to prefer Park like this, and Park had decided he was going to give Gift whatever he wanted.
And God help them both.
* * *
Park went about the majority of his day on auto-pilot, only fully checking in whenever Gift appeared in his line of sight, enjoying the way the boy blushed and ducked his head whenever he saw him looking his way. It was cute. Gift was cute, insanely bold, and enticingly innocent. It was dizzying in the best possible way. Park never knew what he was going to do next.
They only saw each other in passing until the meeting in the Peregrin pod to learn of any new leads. Park sat in his usual spot at the head of the table, expecting the others to take their normal seats as well, but Gift plopped down to his left and gave him an innocent little smile that made Park instantly suspicious.
The others fell into place in formation, the assets and handlers side by side like conjoined twins. Of course, that left Payton on Gift’s left as well, practically glued to his side. Park did his best not to show any outward reaction but ground his teeth together until his jaw ached.
Once they were all settled around the room, Park looked pointedly at Remi. “What have you g—” Park grunted in surprise as Gift’s socked foot suddenly slipped between his open legs, pressing against his crotch. Park shot him an incredulous look, but Gift was just looking at his phone as if nothing were happening. Park cleared his throat. “—got? What have we got?” he said again with more confidence, doing his best not to stare at Gift.
Remi opened his mouth to speak just as Gift’s foot began to move, sending a shock of heat throughout Park’s body. He couldn’t stop the groan that escaped as his cock filled out painfully behind his zipper. He coughed, hoping it somehow hid his desperate groan, but the others still looked at him as if he were crazy.
Maybe he wouldn’t ease Gift into punishments after all. Maybe he’d drag him into the nearest bathroom and spank him until he cried, finger him roughly until he was begging, then stuff him full of his cock until he was screaming. That thought did nothing to quell his hard-on, so he forced himself to try to ignore Gift and his wiggling toes.
He dug his blunt nails into his Gift’s foot, doing his best to dislodge it, but Gift was unfazed, eyelids fluttering like he was getting a foot massage. The fucking brat. Park tried to discreetly move his chair away from the table, but it didn’t budge, stuck on something behind the wheel. Had Gift set his bag between the wheels so Park couldn’t get away? The diabolical little monster.
“I figured out the pixelated cyclone thingie,” Remi said, tone grim, dragging Park’s attention away from his predicament temporarily. “I also figured out why a bunch of teens join the site every time one of these influencers talks about it.”
When he didn’t elaborate, Payton asked, “So, what is it?” His exasperation was obvious.
Remi picked up the small remote from the conference table and turned on the large television on the far wall. Park frowned at the image on the screen: a very old school looking app with little creatures walking around with conversation bubbles over their heads. Each of the little creatures seemed engaged in conversations set against a theme park background.
“Is this the game?” Park asked.
Remi nodded, using his laptop to control the tiny russet-colored dog on the screen.
“I worried I was going to have to wander around forever trying to find this symbol. But it was shockingly easy once I realized those random photos on Instagram weren’t random at all.”
Persephone frowned, fingers playing with her braids. “What do you mean? They’re literally just photos of bridges and parking garages?”
Remi hit a couple of buttons, opening Instagram and searching the Chatterland Adventures hashtag. “That’s because it's not the pictures that matter. It’s the captions.” He clicked on one of the outlier photos on the screen, blowing up the caption beneath. There were three emojis: a palm tree, a wave, and an umbrella.
“Is that supposed to mean something to us?” Lennon asked.
“Only to people who know what they’re looking for,” Remi said. “See, these emojis are signposts. Directions on how to find the game within a game.”
