“Is this your daddy?” he asked, gazing down into the old photograph.

“Yeah, it’s my dad,” Mingi said with a nod. “He teaches at Zurich University. Korean language and cultural studies.”

“He’s handsome, as all daddies are.” Yunho rubbed his thumb over the glass.

Though Mingi couldn’t see where he was touching, he had a feeling he had just stroked his thumb over the spot where his dad’s face was. “And your mummy? Where’s she?”

“… Don’t know her, she left when I was a baby.”

At this, Yunho lifted his gaze to look over at him. His eyes were wide, and they shifted from side to side as he tried to process this unexpected information. It took him a few seconds to think of something suitable to say.

“Oh, how dreadful. I’m terribly sorry. You must miss her.”

“Hard to miss someone you have no memories of,” Mingi replied with a shrug. “Wherever she is, I hope she’s happy. God knows my dad is far from it.”

“Daddy is like that too,” Yunho remarked, his thumb once more stroking over the glass. “So melancholic. I can see the life draining from his eyes every time I look into them. All because of me. Have you met him?”

Mingi nodded and explained, “Yeah, but only on video calls. I’ve never met him in person.”

“Meeting my daddy is like meeting God,” Yunho said in the softest whisper. “Big, powerful, filled with wrath which he demonstrates more than his apparent boundless love. I hope you never meet him. He’s … frightening.”

Mingi furrowed his brow and asked, “Frightening how?”

Yunho turned back to the photograph. His hands weren’t quite steady as he stared down at it.

“Does your daddy hit you too?” he asked in that same whisper.

Oh.

Though Yunho was still smiling, his tone was eerily flat when he spoke. “Yes, it sounds … quite beautiful, doesn’t it? To marry a handsome man. Bring him into your home. Make love to him for the first time. Let him ----- you ---- and take your --------- on the soft sheets. Make you scream his name so that everyone hears how much he loves you.”

“Yunho?”

“Yes?”

“We’ve talked about this, remember? What’s appropriate to say to me, and what you should keep to yourself.”

“… I’m sorry, I just think you’re so handsome. I get flustered and say the wrong things.”

“I know, and I’m flattered,” Mingi said, his tone soft and slow. “I think it’s sweet, but you need to be careful. You can’t say things like that around anyone else. I could get in trouble with your parents if they find out about … the things we’ve done in the stables. So please, try and keep the fantasies to yourself.”

“It’s just us,” Yunho pointed out, slowly lowering his hands from his cheeks. “No one has to know. I won’t tell a soul. Not even Roméo, and I tell him everything.”

Mingi sighed and reached up to get his glasses in hand. This allowed him to pinch the bridge of his nose. There was a twinge starting to settle there, which always appeared whenever Yunho started to get on his nerves. After a soothing pinch and rub, he replaced his glasses.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, his tone filled with resignation. “Just us.”

Yunho hummed in delight because he was so happy to have gotten his way.

♱

“You should name the boardings.”

The suggestion dragged Mingi out of his musings. He came around with a hard blink and a soft snort. “I’m sorry?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting enough to lightly crease his forehead.

“What did you say, love?”

“A name, you should give the boardings a name,” Yunho repeated, talking in a slow and steady rhythm as if Mingi was a child. “The larger of the stables is called le Nid des Hirondelles, because–”

“Because the swallows like to nest there,” Mingi finished with a slow nod.

Mingi was aware. He had heard the stable being referred to by this name by Jean-Luc, the head groundskeeper. He was also familiar with the swallows, who liked to nest in the eaves during the spring. They kept away the annoying bugs and spiders, so he was happy to tolerate them.

However, he just thought of it as ‘the stables’ because he had no need to specify mostof the time. Should he need to talk to Seonghwa about one, he would refer to it by the name of whatever mare first came to mind. Seonghwa knew where they were all housed, so he was able to figure out where to go with ease.

At this, Yunho perked up. He stuck his chest out and squared his shoulders, like he always did when he was feeling accomplished and proud. It seemed he liked how he knew such little details about the estate. Mingi didn’t know all that much, but he had learned some things from his years working alongside Seonghwa and Adrien.

“I like to call it les Hirondelles for short. The smaller stable hasn’t been given an official name yet. It’s a more recent addition, and it does take time for a name to settle. I’m still thinking of a suitable choice. As for your boardings…” Yunho paused to think it over, his gaze once more skipping over the interior of the bungalow. “Uh, les Pignons?”

Mingi considered it before shaking his head. “Too obvious. It should have more character, don’t you think?”

After a moment, Yunho’s lips lifted in a pleased smile which showed his teeth.

"La Grange du Cheval?”

Mingi felt his lips curling into a smile too. He didn’t try to hide it by turning away or dropping his head. The Master had earned the right to see it for his wit. “I like that one,” he said, his voice soft. “I might have to steal it from you.”

“You can have it. It’s my gift to you.”

“Alright, thank you. Does your private suite have a name?”

Yunho nodded. “It does, le Coquelicot Bleu. There are little poppies in the stained-glass windows in the parlour. Blue, not red. Have you seen blue poppies before?”

“Yeah, they’re grown in the manor garden. Most of them are blue, but some sprout up yellow and orange.” Mingi knew it was probably a bad idea to suggest it, but he decided to go for it.

“You’ll have to invite me to your suite some time. I’ve never seen the poppies in the windows. I think I’d like to see them.”

“Oh, I would like that very much!” the Master gushed, as he rocked back onto the slight heels of his loafers. “I’ve so many nice things to show you! Um, I’ve plenty of books and maps. Oh, and antique equestrian tools! I’m certain you’ll know how to use them all. You could give me a demonstration. Not on the mares, of course. We wouldn’t want to risk hurting one. You could use me.”

The suggestion was ripe with implication.

Mingi felt a prickling heat spreading up from his neck. It made his cheeks and ears throb, not unlike the soft throbs starting to radiate out from his lower belly.

He hoped the gentle glow from the lamps didn’t expose his flush to the boy. He didn’t want him to know how uncomfortable he was making him.

“I’m a good student,” the Master finished, his voice breathier than it had been moments ago. “And I think you would make the perfect teacher. You’re firm, much firmer than Seonghwa. Though I always try to be a good boy, sometimes I get carried away. I need a firm hand to keep me in line. Punish me when I’m misbehaving. Praise me when I’m being good. You
would be just perfect, I think.”

you call him your baby, so he might as well act like one
yunho's always been one to bite the hand that holds the milk bottle
you wanna see him act out so you have a brat to punish
but you ain't seen nothing yet.

we wanna knock you into next week with what we could tell you
darling boy throws a temper tantrum,
but maybe that's cause they don't listen to what baby wants

if i gotta get hit to earn my hit
then i'll do it.
he just wants your attention, and he wants them to see it.
cause all they see now is god in the eyes of a boy in the stable stalls

darling boy gets a sugar cube if he behaves well
he knows just what to do
but he wants you to crack that whip over his yielding spine to make it hurt

so don't speak to him in that precious mother tongue
he wants to hear the low, sensual note of your sweet 'enchante' rolling off
or maybe he wants to hear you nicker like a horse
since you're his friesian, such a beautiful stallion

give him what he wants
a mass of bruises and scars and they spill out all over the sheets
not too hard, just raise your fist and let it fall with the same impact of their words

stick it and twist it
see how much i writhe for you
darling boy loves it much
can you see it in his dead eyes ?

he misses the soft 'sweetheart' of his daddy
especially as he sees birthday wishes which read like death notes
give him something good to remember

call us the master and pupil
the stallion and the foal
his eyes glimmer at sight,
because the stud and the syringe are one and the same

we don't like the disrespect, dongwook, look me in the face
darling boy has black eyes and both cold hands
on the barrel of the--

The family portraits hanging at the top of the staircases added a note of gothic, however. The large oil paintings were set into gilded frames, and they were several feet in height and width.

Each member had their own personal portraits, which were overlooking the foyer to see the guests coming and going. The older generations were placed along the sides of the mezzanine. Out of sight, but certainly not forgotten.

Dongwook and Hana were hanging pride of place on either side of the family portrait. The husband was classically handsome, dressed in a fine suit with an ascot tie, his dark hair swept back off his brow. The wife was beautiful, but she had the strong jaw and cheeks of a well-bred lady which were considered less feminine. Equine, much like Yunho.

Yunho’s portrait was hanging beside Hana, and his little brother, Keeho, was hanging beside Dongwook. Both of the boys were wearing matching navy suits. Only Yunho had a flamboyant and ruffled blouse, which contrasted against the more formal and masculine wingtip collared shirt Keeho was wearing.

They both had big and dark eyes and little pouted
mouths, but the older son had a sharp and hooked nose rather than the soft and round button his brother possessed. Mingi was so used to the sunburn on his nose and cheeks it seemed strange how it wasn’t present in his portrait.

The largest portrait contained the family. It looked to have been completed several years ago, on account of Yunho appearing younger. A boy of 16 years, perhaps? He looked the same, just softer because his face had yet to widen with masculine growth. He was standing behind his father, who was seated on the right side of the portrait. His little brother would be 10 if so.

Keeho looked around that age; he still appeared to be a child, seated between his parents and yet so small he could easily be rocked on their knee.

Mingi knew other rooms in the manor were more ostentatious, more gothic. Especially the ballroom, which was a popular venue for wedding receptions. He had never seen the Master’s private suite, but he had a feeling it would be dark, moody, and luxurious. Just like the aura which radiated from his portrait, the black cloud of dread that had settled in the corner where
it hung.

“I can make it sweet,”

Mingi whispered against his throat. He pressed open mouthed kisses over the little freckles and moles that dotted the lovely ***** of his neck, and then he ****** a firm kiss just beneath his ear. It wasn’t hard enough to bruise the skin, but it still made the boy gasp and scratch his nails over his back.

“Or I can make it hurt.”

Rather than **** another kiss against the boy’s throat, he parted his mouth wide enough to expose his teeth. They sank into the side of his neck with such force the skin almost yielded to his sharp canines and incisors.

Yunho tensed beneath him. Mingi felt his throat spasming beneath his bite. For a second, it seemed like he might struggle, like he might push him away or hit his fists against him to make him stop with a scared whine.

But the sound that left his lips wasn’t one of fear, it was sweet pleasure. The kind which made the head spin and the thighs tremble.

“Oh, Mingi,” he moaned. “Oh … it feels …”

Mingi held on for a moment before trading his teeth for his lips. ****** a firm kiss against the dimples he had left behind in his flesh. As he released him, he asked,

“What do you like more?”

“Nnn, make it hurt,”

Yunho whimpered against his arm.

“Bruise me more. I want everyone to see how much attention you give me.”

⛤

Yunho had no idea that Mingi was touching himself right now.

Touching himself and thinking about his warmth, his body pressed up against him, his sweet-smelling hair.

How he had looked as he had danced in front of him, with his arms lazily lifted above his head and his eyes closed as he softly swayed to the dreamy music.

Those dark curls in his armpits, and how they would match the thatch between his lean thighs. The thatch that was hidden within his little briefs.

How virginal he looked in his all-white underwear, especially when he got
onto his knees to pray. The way his lips had brushed against the blue rosary beads as he had prayed …

and how they would look if he were to slip the dangling chain between them.
Deeper and deeper, bead by bead, until the silver crucifix was brushing against the back of his tongue.
Until it started slipping down his throat to the wet sound of his gagging and–

Mingi glanced between the toy car and his face in turn.
"So you ended up finding a Supra ?"
“Yeah. Parked down a side street.
Couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw her.
Felt like God put her there, just for me to have. You know ?
“Yeah, I know,” Mingi agreed with a slow nod.

“Feel it every time I look at you, baby.”