Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He tries to fight it.

Oh, he tries really hard; and Sangwoo loves it even more when Bum does.

Bum kicks, bites, claws at Sangwoo’s forearms. He slams his small fists against Sangwoo’s chest to push him away. It’s no use. There’s no comparison, the difference between their bodies is too big, in size and strength; it’s just too much, and they both know it.

Sangwoo smirks, pinning Bum under him on the cold kitchen floor.

He grabs a fistful of black hair, yanks it hard, pushing Bum’s head down on the hard surface. He doesn’t truly slam him down, of course; it’s not meant to cause serious harm. He knows Bum would want it harder, Sangwoo knows Bum thinks he could take it, but it’s up to him to be careful where Bum isn’t. Still, it’s enough to be a warning.

Bum bares his teeth, hissing in pain.

“Ah… f-fuck…”

Sangwoo licks his lips. The sight of Bum’s flushed cheeks, of his feverish dark eyes, makes heat coil inside his belly.

“Are you done being dramatic yet?” he asks, a deliberate monotone, every word a carefully driven stab.

Unrelenting, Bum replies by sending another kick in his direction. Sangwoo easily catches Bum’s right leg in his hand, fingers sinking in the tender flesh just a little above the back of Bum’s knee.

“Let me… let me go!”

Bum writhes, decidedly uncooperative.

Sangwoo grips his leg harder, makes him spread his thighs wide, until the strain must be nearly painful. He palms Bum through the fabric of the dark grey sweatpants he’s wearing, lazily, consciously slow.

(No skirt today. Bum is even cuter like this, all disheveled and wrapped up in those ugly, too-large clothes that he sometimes wears around the house, clothes that are just begging to be ripped off his body.)

Bum senses the pause, that stalling moment while Sangwoo takes the time to contemplate him.

He seizes this opportunity to turn on his belly and wriggle away, breaking free from Sangwoo’s grip.

There’s a sudden burst of pain, a small hand slapping away Sangwoo’s chin and the quick sting of blunt fingernails scratching him; Sangwoo recoils, snorting more in annoyance than actual pain, and Bum slips away.

Sangwoo rubs the back of his hand over the spot on his face where Bum hit him.

He’ll pay for that. Sangwoo will make sure he regrets this burst of defiance.

Bum knows the consequences all too well, but that’s exactly why he’s acting like this today.

Well. Two can play the dirty game.

Bum keeps crawling forward, pushing himself on his elbows and knees.

Sangwoo sighs.

“Alright, Bum. Enough.”

Sangwoo moves.

It takes him no more than a few seconds to catch Bum again.

Sangwoo grabs him by his hair – yes, hard this time – and he pulls him back.

Bum yells, clawing at the floor with his nails.

Sangwoo’s hands find a steady grasp on Bum’s slender hips. He pushes one knee in the middle of Bum’s back, cutting out his breath, trapping him down again with the weight of his body.

Bum coughs.

“Sangwoo…”

Sangwoo squats down upon him, hovering over him. He leans down, the fringe of his hair brushes Bum’s nape.

He whispers in his ear, hot breath and liquid voice:

“Honey… if you don’t keep still, I will bash your fucking brain in.”

He feels Bum hold his breath, he feels the squirming of Bum’s body under him.

“… I don’t want it.” Amazing how quickly Bum’s voice has turned into melted butter, all trembling and whiny and unabashedly begging. He’s changed his strategy, then.

“Please, Sangwoo, I don’t want it, not today, let me go…”

A jolt of arousal goes straight to Sangwoo’s crotch, his dick hardening instantly inside his boxers.

Fuck. For a moment, his fingers on Bum’s skin shake, and he struggles not to lose his grip, to keep up the character he’s supposed to be playing. Slipping up now would break the mood, but Bum absolutely knows what it does to him hearing him talk like that, how quickly and easily it utterly ruins him.

Sangwoo takes a gulp of air, and he opts to start slowly grinding against Bum’s ass.

He makes Bum feel it, makes him anticipate it: the outline of his cock against the spot where his hole is, under the layers of shapeless clothes.

“I don’t give a fuck what you want, you little piece of shit,” Sangwoo’s voice trembles, for a moment only, but he pushes each word out, using that tone that is just the right shade of sharp to drive Bum crazy.

“Sangwoo…” Bum moans again, writhing on the floor. It’s supposed to be one umpteenth half-hearted attempt at breaking free, but in reality it only serves to make him rub himself harder against Sangwoo’s erection.

Sangwoo’s skin is heated, covered in sweat. His cock aches, stiff and straining the cotton of his boxers. He envisions Bum’s own dick, trapped between his belly and the floor, hopelessly rutting against the wooden tiles in search of friction.

He wraps one hand around Bum’s left elbow, roughly bending his arm behind his back.

Bum yelps, shaking his head.

“A-at least don’t be rough, please…”

He wants the exact opposite; whether he’s sweetly begging for mercy, or shamelessly teasing Sangwoo to rile him up, Bum is always trying to elicit one specific type of reaction from him.

Sangwoo knows, and loves him for it, for how well they play together, complementing each other.

Most of the time, like today, Sangwoo is more than happy to oblige.

Sangwoo grips him harder. He can guess at the spots where the pads of his fingers will leave dark bluish marks over Bum’s olive skin.

“Shut your mouth,” he cuts him off dryly, nonchalantly.

With a rough gesture of his free hand, he yanks down the waistband of Bum’s sweatpants.

Bum is not… wearing any underwear.

Under his eyes, centimeter after centimeter of Bum’s skin is deliciously exposed. The full curves of his toned ass; the soft skin and the short, dark hairs over his slender thighs and defined calves.

Bum hasn’t shaved in a while, just how Sangwoo likes him.

What Sangwoo feels right now is hunger.

He lets go of Bum’s arm to run both hands over the smooth planes of Bum’s thighs. He grazes, pinches, palms the delicate flesh, taking his time; Bum whines and whimpers, but he doesn’t try to break off the contact this time.

Sangwoo’s hand slide back up to his ass; he digs his fingers deeper, kneading Bum’s buxom ass cheeks.

“Aah… Sangwoo…”

Sangwoo grunts, gritting his teeth, lust and want and need thumping like drums behind his eyes.

He runs one index finger along the curve of Bum’s crack, just barely teasing the surface; he parts his cheeks, exposing Bum’s hole. The little ring of muscles is a dark pink, already twitching from the slightest suggestion of pressure and fullness.

Bum’s entire body is shaking, but Sangwoo may be trembling even more.

“You’re such a slut,” he intones, carefully coloring his words with a long-practiced, familiar contempt.

“Look at you. You can’t even keep your dick in your pants for a couple hours. You’d do anything to be filled with cock, wouldn’t you?” He probes around the hole with his index, just barely pushing his finger tip at the entrance, still without penetrating him yet.

Bum lets out a low, whining sound, like a sigh, weakly nodding in assent.

Sangwoo continues: “You’re a fucking freak. I bet you don’t even care if it’s me, do you? You just want to be fucked. You want it so bad that you go around half-naked, teasing other men…”

Bum is breathing hard, his forehead pressed against the floor. Sangwoo knows his face must be all red, covered in sweat and saliva and mucus. He hasn’t made him cry yet; he has to push him a little further for that, Bum needs something else, something more, to truly be tipped over the edge.

Sangwoo retracts his finger. He dips it into his own mouth, licks quickly around it; he spits on the open palm of his hand. The sound makes Bum wince; he knows what’s coming.

Sangwoo raises his right arm, fingers pressed together, his palm flat.

The first hit comes down hard, and echoes against the wall with a loud, dry smacking sound.

Bum chokes on air; his whole body tenses up.

Sangwoo keeps him in place, pushing one knee in the middle of Bum’s back.

He hits him again. His blows are hard, precise, irregularly-paced; he doesn’t give Bum’s body the time to adjust, or the chance to predict when and how he’s going to be hit.

The palm of his hand keeps impacting against the soft skin of Bum’s ass cheeks. He loves it, loves the sound, the sizzling friction that prickles him.

Three. Five. Ten.

Bum still struggles faintly against him; but with every hit, his back arches down and his ass rises up to meet Sangwoo’s hand.

The blood rushing to Bum’s skin is starting to color it a lovely shade of dark red. Sangwoo admires the imprints of his fingers, bright and visible against older marks left in previous encounters.

Some are more recent, like the bluish and violet bruises blooming like dark flowers; others are older, already faded, like the tangle of clear, protruding scratches and scars left by the belt or the cane or the whip.

“S-Sangwoo, please, it’s too much…! I can’t…”

Bum is openly grinding against him and the floor now. Sangwoo listens closely, while he imagines how Bum’s skin must be pulsing, flooded with the acute stings of pain. It will turn into a dull ache later, one that will remind him just exactly what happened, long after it’s all over.

Sangwoo hits him. Again. And again.

“You’re just a whore.” He paces every word with a blow. “You deserved this. You wanted this. Getting fucked is all that you’re good for, after all.”

Bum’s voice is shaky when he speaks.

“You’re… so cruel…”

He sobs, the noise trembling through his body. He’s hiding his face; his shoulders also tremble.

“That’s bullshit,” Sangwoo snarls, mercilessly. “You like it better when I’m rough. You want me to be mean to you.”

He raises his hand one more time, and delivers a final blow, straight in the middle of Bum’s ass, precisely hitting against his asshole.

Bum gasps, loudly.

Sangwoo is keeping count – it’s twenty-five, they have never gone beyond that number – but Bum by now is too far gone to notice.

The force of the blow pushes Bum forward, and he drops down heavily, finally exploding into a raw, choked up sob.

He starts crying and he doesn’t stop: deep, wet sounds muffled by his black hair all over his face.

Sangwoo stills his hand. He waits; Bum could say the word if he needed to, if he wanted to, but he doesn’t do it.

On the floor, Bum keeps crying, the sound slowly turning from loud sobs into a low, protracted wail. He’s murmuring broken words that Sangwoo can’t decipher completely; he hears his name, and some more variations of please.

Carefully, he runs the palm of his hand over Bum’s ass, partly to comfort him, partly to assess the damage.

Despite Bum’s litany of begging, the tension in his back is gone; he’s soft, pliable, and Sangwoo knows from the intonation in his cries that what he’s feeling is pleasure, a state of acute, unadulterated bliss.

Sangwoo blushes a little, feeling a rush of pride and affection at the thought that he is the one who has the privilege of giving Bum that type of relief, of liberation.

Sangwoo retracts his hand. His own cock his pulsing; he feels the wet patch of pre-cum sticking his underwear to his skin.

He reaches down and unbuckles his belt.

Bum flinches, hearing the sound. Like an alarmed small animal, he twists his back, turning his head backwards.

Bum stares at Sangwoo. His face is just like Sangwoo imagined: a mess of blotchy cheeks and huge, watery black eyes.

He’s beautiful.

Sangwoo can’t help but want to break him even more.

He smiles lazily at Bum, while he makes a show of stroking himself through his boxers.

“Sangwoo…” It’s Bum’s turn to part his lips, the rosy tip of his tongue peeking out. His eyes shamelessly fixate on Sangwoo’s crotch.

Sangwoo cups his cock with one hand, making a slow jerking-off motion. He knows Bum must be just as desperately hard as he is – if he hasn’t come already.

Which gives him an idea…

Sangwoo tilts his head to a side.

“What? You still want this?”

Somehow, Bum blushes harder.

“I…”

He’s sensed the trap. He knows Sangwoo too well not to know that there’s no good answer that will save him from whatever comes next.

Sangwoo’s white teeth look sharp and threatening in the kitchen’s crude light.

He pull out his cock.

He kicks down his jeans and his boxers, walking out of them and leaving them in a messy pile on the floor.

Maintaining eye contact with Bum, he slowly progresses from loose, sloppy strokes to pumping on it more vigorously.

Bum’s mouth is slacked. His eyes are huge. He looks hypnotized, half wild with pure lust.

“Tell me, Bum,” Sangwoo’s breath is ragged, it almost gets caught in his throat. “Are you hard?”

A long look between them.

“Did you come without my permission?”

Bum’s shoulders tense and then drop.

His eyes, if possible, grow larger still.

He shakes his head, teeth sinking onto his lower lip.

“N-no, Sangwoo, I swear…”

Sangwoo calmly strides closer.

“Let me see.”

He leans down again, his fingers hook onto Bum’s oversized white t-shirt to lift it up.

Bum’s legs jolt helplessly, he’s high on the sudden rush of adrenaline; but he doesn’t really try to shake off Sangwoo anymore.

Unceremoniously, Sangwoo yanks Bum’s sweatpants all the way down, until the fabric traps Bum’s ankles.

He presses their hips together, lining up his cock with Bum’s crack.

The heat from just that proximity is almost enough to make him climax right there. He thinks about how it will feel to have Bum’s tightness clenching around him, to fill him up for real.

With slow, repetitive movements, Sangwoo teases Bum’s entrance, softly pressing the head of his cock to Bum’s hole.

Bum keens, throwing his head back.

Sangwoo slips both hands between Bum’s thighs, wrapping himself around Bum’s thin back from behind.

He feels Bum’s cock, arched against his belly. It’s velvety, the veins sticking out; it’s impossibly hard and hot in his hand.

He rubs his thumb over the head and feels it come off slick and sticky.

“You want me to fuck you hard, isn’t that right, Bum?” Sangwoo kisses his neck. “You want me to… ngh… fuck you up so badly that you can’t walk for days, is that what you want?”

Sangwoo wants to take him, wants to pound into him, he wants to mark Bum all over his body with his cum.

Bum mewls, delirious with need.

“S-Sangwoo, please… a-at least let’s not do this… here…”

Sangwoo is seeing red.

His heart is beating wildly. He’s going to go absolutely insane.

“You filthy little fuck. You’re soaking wet,” he growls in Bum’s ear. “You want to touch yourself, don’t you? Are you going to cry again?”

Without warning, he wraps his strong arms around Bum’s upper body.

Before Bum can act on his surprise, or vocalize his protest in any way, Sangwoo lifts him up with ease.

He slides one hand under Bum’s legs, securing Bum’s back with the other. He throws him over his shoulder.

This time, Bum doesn’t try to fight him off anymore. He remains obedient and still in his arms.

Sangwoo smiles, more softly, gently rubbing Bum’s back through the sweat-soaked cotton of his shirt.

“You don’t wanna do it here, hm?” He takes a long, deep breath.

“Good. We’re moving to the bedroom.”                                                         

He walks out of the room, carrying a helpless, quivering Bum with him.                     

epilogue

“I’m sorry for scratching you.”

Bum’s hand reach over to his face, gently cupping Sangwoo’s cheek.

Black eyes anxiously scan him looking for damage, brows furrowed in a mildly concerned expression.

Sangwoo chuckles softly and kisses Bum’s wrist.

“Are you joking? Bum, you’re not the one who needs to worry. I didn’t even feel it.”

How like his boyfriend to worry about him and completely disregard the state of his own face, where a freshly formed dark bruise is spreading like a dark wing over his left cheek; or the multiple little sources of pain all over his body, despite the copious amount of lotion and ice that Sangwoo carefully applied to every area.

“I got a little carried away,” Bum murmurs, looking down with a comical trace of embarrassment, like a schoolboy who did something wrong. It would make Sangwoo’s blood boil again, if he weren’t this exhausted – like he usually is after one of their sessions.

“It’s that look you have when you do the mean voice,” Bum explains, softly. “It drives me absolutely wild. It makes me react. You’re so good at it.”

He looks at Sangwoo with such an open, earnest expression that it makes Sangwoo’s throat tighten. Bum looks at him with pure, endless trust, a deep affection and familiarity, a love that is steady and unfaltering and that Bum feels no need to mask or soften. He wasn’t used to being looked at that way, before Bum came into his life.

Sangwoo makes a lop-sided smile and ruffles Bum’s hair. He opens his arms to invite him, and Bum happily snuggles against him, resting his head over Sangwoo’s chest.

“I try my best,” Sangwoo offers, with a small shrug. “I know you like it. I want to do it right.”

He runs his fingers through Bum’s hair.

“How are you feeling? Was it too much?”

It’s his turn now to worry. He has done plenty of that already, but he can never be too sure.

He never wants to hurt Bum. Never more than what they agree on. Never for real.

Each other’s boundaries have been explored and tested over the years, and he trusts Bum, like Bum trusts him. But still…

Bum shifts a bit next to him on the bed. He’s lying on one side, careful not to put the weight on his ass and his back.

“Sangwoo, I’m fine,” he says, with a relaxed smile in his voice. He’s already starting to sound a little drowsy. Sangwoo decides he’s going to let him drift away and rest for as much as he needs to.

“It was perfect. I needed it.” Bum presses a kiss to Sangwoo’s temple.

“Thank you. I love you, you know.”

Sangwoo blushes.

He hugs Bum harder, holding him close.

“… I love you too,” he murmurs.

Bum sighs, closing his eyes. Sangwoo watches him, listening to his breath as it slows down, his body growing heavy with sleep.

He’s going to wake him up later for dinner. Maybe he’ll bring a tray to their room, to serve it in their bed.

For now, Sangwoo sinks his head deeper onto the pillow, and rests by his boyfriend’s side.

Chapter Text

“S-Sangwoo…! Please!”

Bum’s feeble voice rises, echoing against the basement’s walls.

His small frame dangles back and forth; his feet helplessly kick at empty air.

A criminal standing at the gallows, sentenced to death by hanging, Sangwoo thinks to himself as he pulls the other extremity of the rope.

“Shut up,” he hisses, coldly, ignoring Bum’s pleas. His voice is flat and deadly calm.  

He schools his feature into a blank mask, he forces the energy buzzing inside his body to remain trapped under the surface. For now, at least.

Still, Sangwoo knows Bum must have noticed that light in his eyes; the almost imperceptible curl of the corner of his mouth. Sangwoo’s heart is beating fast and loud, thump, thump, thump, and his excitement only grows at the thought that Bum’s heart must sound the same.

Bum is now hanging in the middle of the semi-dark concrete room.

His wrists are tied together. His arms, raised up above his head, support the weight of his helpless body. He’s bound by a long, thick rope; several inches over Bum’s head, it passes inside the hook of a metal pulley that Sangwoo set onto the ceiling. The remaining portion of the rope is rolled around the inner sheave, the opposite extremity steadily held by Sangwoo’s hand.

A simple mechanism, but elegant in its effectiveness.

Bum keeps flailing, to no use. The rope tenses and sways, but Sangwoo has chosen his instruments carefully: it gives no signs of breaking.

The basement’s ceiling is tall enough to allow Sangwoo to lift him up so that Bum’s feet don’t touch the floor. That, too, is done on purpose.

The safety, the comfort of the ground, just barely out of reach. If Bum twists and stretches his legs far enough, the tips of his toes can almost graze the dusty surface; but no matter what he does, he can’t lay his feet down.

Suspended.

He’s entirely at Sangwoo’s mercy.

Sangwoo secures the free end of the rope around the metal pole in a corner of the room, with a series of tight knots. He has to be careful, this part is important. He doesn’t wish for Bum to fall down unexpectedly, after all.

He decides if Bum deserves pain or not, if and when he’s going to get it. Nothing must happen to Bum that isn’t exactly what Sangwoo wants to do to him.

Sangwoo walks around Bum, checking his balled up fists. Inside them, he catches a glimpse of a familiar pair of small, spherical silver charms. Those are part of their security system. If those fall, everything stops.

Sangwoo blinks, allowing a state of focused calm to slowly fill his head.

Good. He’s ready.

Everything is in order.

“Sangwoo,” Bum whines, again.

Sangwoo looks up at him – it’s unusual for Bum to be in a taller position.

“Please, think about this,” Bum is saying, frantically. His voice is guttural and shrill, the words seem to get stuck between his tongue and his palate. “I’ll be good. I promise. I’m so sorry, Sangwoo, I didn’t mean it, I swear…”

Sangwoo thinks of the way the rope must be digging into the skin of Bum’s wrists; of the circular, reddened marks it will leave for several hours. Maybe even for days.

He steps closer. The steps of his bare feet on the concrete floor are light, barely audible.

He raises one hand to Bum’s face and traps his chin in one hand, fingers sinking into Bum’s cheeks.

“Enough with the whining.”

Unusually for Bum, that abruptly shuts him up.

Sangwoo eyes Bum’s small torso, his pale skin, the jutting edges of his ribs and hipbones. Bum is almost entirely naked, except for a pair of black briefs.

Sangwoo runs one hand over Bum’s chest, absentmindedly grazing his nipples; then runs it down across Bum’s stomach.

Bum tenses up. He glances at Sangwoo without being able to mask his trepidation, the question running through his head: what will Sangwoo do to him?

What will the punishment be for his fault?

“You know what you did,” Sangwoo continues. “You should’ve thought about it before you tried to run away. Now you’re going to take it, and you’ll keep quiet.”

Pause. Danger glints in Sangwoo’s brown eyes. “Or I’ll make you,” he adds, almost delicately.

Sangwoo takes a few steps back. He leans down over a small wooden coffee table that he has set in the room for the occasion, bringing it downstairs from the living room.

On the table, there’s a square cloth; on the cloth, tidily laid out under the flickering yellow light of a single light bulb, there’s Sangwoo’s collection of instruments.

His hand hovers over the glimmering silver of knives, the smooth latex of sex toys, the shining metal and black leather of chains and handcuffs.

He guesses, without seeing it, the fast rising and falling of Bum’s chest, his quickening breaths. Bum has stopped moving now; Sangwoo can feel Bum’s gaze pierce his nape. He senses how Bum is trying to peek over his back to guess at what he’s going to use.

Sangwoo has already made up his mind, but he takes his time. He moves a little to the left, deliberately blocking Bum’s view.

Finally, his fingers close around a scalpel. It has a slender, functional hilt and a nicely curved edge; the light accentuates its sharp look. It’s one of Sangwoo’s favorites, one he has used many other times before; but he’s always careful to keep it nice and clean.

He turns around and holds it out, presenting it to his prisoner.

Bum noisily holds his breath.

“Here’s your present,” Sangwoo announces cheerfully. There’s an affable smile on his lips now.

“Yes… I think you’ve earned it. Are you happy?”

No answer.

He steps closer again and stands in front of the other man, merely inches away.

Bum’s eyes are cast down, avoiding his gaze.

As if Sangwoo will allow him to escape, even if only to retreat into his own mind.

He grasps Bum chin’s again, lifting Bum’s head at an unpleasant angle.

“Answer me when I’m talking to you.”

He doesn’t bother with any of the cruel, more crude insults he often uses to address him. Sangwoo knows that his cold, emotionless tone, the carefully measured pacing of each word, are enough to send shivers all over Bum’s body.

He lifts the blade close to Bum’s face, right under his chin. The tip is almost touching Bum’s skin, but not quite.

Bum quivers, arching his throat.

“I-I…” He exhales through his nose.

Deep black eyes meet Sangwoo’s own.

“Y-yes, Sangwoo.” A nervous grimace, too shaky and fleeting to be called a proper smile. “Thank you… I like it…”

This would normally be the time when Sangwoo snorts, grins at him, and softly makes fun of him.

Not this time. He remains stone-faced, and presses the sharp edge of the blade a little harder against Bum’s chin.

“So fucking pathetic. You’re not even good at lying.”

He slides the blade down, along the column of Bum’s thin neck. The steel is barely grazing him, not more than a caress, a light scratch. Bum swallows thickly; hypnotized, Sangwoo follows the movement of his Adam’s apple.

“I should make you suffer for your ingratitude,” Sangwoo continues, in a pensive tone. “There are so many things I could do to you…”

The tip of the blade circles around the areola of Bum’s right nipple; the dark-haired man tries to suppress the instinctive jolt of his shoulders, knowing fully well that any rash movement against the scalpel could result in much more serious damage.

“Perhaps I should cut a few pieces off of you, what do you think?”

Sangwoo presses the flat side of the blade against Bum’s nipple, one, two times. He looks as the small nub of flesh hardens, despite Bum’s intentions.

He toys with it for a while, nudging it with the blade. Bum holds his breath and Sangwoo has to stifle a smile at how hard he’s trying to keep still, to be good for him.

Well, it’s a little too late for that.

Sangwoo brings the scalpel back to Bum’s face. He presses it flatly against Bum’s left cheek.

“Which part should it be? How about your tongue? Maybe you would learn to be quiet then…”

With the tip of the blade, he nudges the space between Bum’s lips.

An inarticulate sound vibrates inside Bum’s throat; but Bum opens his mouth.

Sangwoo finally allows himself to smile, then.

“Ah, now you’re obedient.”

He pushes the tip just imperceptibly, barely brushing past the edge of Bum’s teeth.

Bum opens his mouth wide, his big, feverish eyes still fixated on Sangwoo’s face. Small tufts of hair are glued to his forehead by a visible veil of sweat.

He looks wild and terrified.

Sangwoo knows better; that look is pure euphoria.

Sangwoo leans forward. He presses his forehead against Bum’s, brushing their noses together.

“You’d do anything for me… wouldn’t you?” He says every word slowly, now, in a low, intimate voice, like they’re accomplices sharing a secret. “You’d swallow this knife if I told you to. You’d fucking deepthroat it, only because I’d told you to do it… and you do everything I tell you, isn’t that right, Bum?”

His lips are so close to Bum’s open mouth that he can feel the heat of their breaths mingling.

Bum’s teeth close over the tip of the blade. His cheeks are flushed; his eyes are glossy, as if he has a fever, and with a shiver Sangwoo recognizes how lost Bum is inside the space of their fantasy, this scenario that they’re playing.

Without ever tearing his eyes away from Sangwoo, Bum dutifully wraps his lips around the scalpel.

Sangwoo can’t stop looking, either.

Bum’s tongue twirls around the blade, slowly sucking it into his mouth, and the pressure, the sensation of that gesture spreads along the scalpel to Sangwoo’s wrist.

It’s indescribable, impossibly intimate. It feels nearly the same as if Bum were sucking Sangwoo’s fingers… as if the steel blade was Sangwoo’s cock.

Sangwoo swallows. His mouth is dry.

“… Stop it.”

At Sangwoo’s order, Bum meekly looks away and relaxes his jaw. It’s the same expression he has when he’s pushed down on his knees, at Sangwoo’s feet.

Sangwoo holds Bum’s chin in his hand and slowly, carefully retracts the scalpel.

Bum lets go of it with a wet pop, a trail of thick saliva linking the corner of his mouth to the blade for a moment before dissolving.

Sangwoo holds out the scalpel in the space between them and look at it with an expression of exaggerated disgust. In reality, Bum’s display has suddenly made him aware of the growing hardness of his cock. His body feels hot, despite the cool, humid environment of the basement.

He shakes his head. “Fuck, I can’t believe it. You really think that acting like that will make me rethink what I have in store for you? That I’ll let you get away with it just because you’re good at being a slut?”

He wipes the scalpel on the hem of the white t-shirt he’s wearing.

“Well, that’s too bad.”

Sangwoo lays the scalpel down on the coffee table. He takes off his shirt; he pauses for a moment, then takes off the old pair of shorts he’s wearing, as well.

He holds the scalpel again. He stands in front of Bum. They’re equally undressed now, both of them in nothing but their underwear.

Again, Sangwoo slides the scalpel down Bum’s abdomen, along the middle of his rib cage. He leaves a soft, barely-there scratch sideways across Bum’s flat stomach, admiring the way Bum reflexively sucks it in.

“Maybe I should cut your hands, and your feet too. I should just chop off your entire legs. You’d never try to leave me again, hm?” Sangwoo licks his lips. He feels his face grow warm. “I would keep you in my room forever. You’d be my personal fucktoy. Nothing but two holes to use whenever I please.”

He breaths against Bum’s face, slowly tracing invisible patterns just below Bum’s bellybutton and above his pelvis.

With every movement of the scalpel, Bum shudders and his lips move, fervently murmuring a string of words Sangwoo can’t hear. He’s not very vocal today; but that’s quite alright. Sangwoo will still find a way to give him what he wants, what he needs.

“I should disembowel you. Slice your belly open and spill your guts all over this floor, little by little, while your heart still beats…”

Sangwoo rests the flat side of the blade against Bum’s crotch, pressing against his flesh through his briefs.

Bum gasps.

“Ah…”

He twists his arms. His legs twitch and he instinctively presses his thighs together. His face contorts in a begging expression.

“Sangwoo, not… not there…”

Slowly, almost experimentally, Sangwoo presses the scalpel harder.

Bum’s face grows redder.

Sangwoo’s fist tightens around the hilt.

He has found Bum’s weak spot.

“Oh. Look at this.”

He tilts the scalpel, nudging the outline of Bum’s penis through the black underwear.

It’s an old pair of briefs, discolored and worn out. It’s too small, even for Bum’s petite figure; it does absolutely nothing to conceal the shape of Bum’s balls, his cock that is quickly becoming half-erected against the scalpel. A thin trail of dark hairs disappears inside the waistband.

“Only a piece of trash like you could get hard from this,” Sangwoo murmurs.

He cups Bum’s crotch with his free hand, hard, and Bum moans, open-mouthed and shameless.

With an abrupt gesture, Sangwoo suddenly tosses the knife to a side and wraps his hand around Bum’s neck instead.

He squeezes Bum’s throat, slowly, pressing his strong fingers to the sides. His other hand, still on Bum’s crotch, keeps kneading him roughly. He dips his fingertips inside Bum’s ugly underwear, wrapping them around Bum’s dick.

There is hot, silky-soft skin against his palm, smearing it with pre-cum. Sangwoo smells the salty scent of Bum’s sweat, it explodes in his nostrils, shooting straight to his brain.

Sangwoo keeps choking him, while at the same time he starts stroking him with small, sloppy touches along his length.

Bum’s back arches and his body spasms, chasing his nearing climax. He wheezes, surrendering himself without fighting, with his hard dick and his life entirely in Sangwoo’s hand.

Sangwoo’s hand around Bum’s penis stops suddenly.

Bum stills, with his lips parted.

Sangwoo loosens his grip around Bum’s neck, little by little. He cups his nape, their lips barely touching, something a little less than a kiss.

“N-ngh…” Bum tries, but he’s unable to speak.

“No,” Sangwoo chuckles lightly against his mouth. “No, you don’t deserve to come. This… is punishment. Or have you forgotten…?”

In front of Bum’s silent, desperate glare, Sangwoo starts touching himself instead.

He encircles the base of his cock with his hand and starts stroking himself up and down. He finds a fast, rough pace, and he grits his teeth as his knees tremble with the force of his growing pleasure.  

“… Sangwoo…” Bum’s voice is barely audible, a strangled, hoarse whisper. He faintly tries to push his hips towards Sangwoo – it’s surprising that he even still has the strength to try.

He takes big gulps of air, trying to form the words. Sangwoo knows what he wants to beg for. To be touched, to be allowed the relief of coming, too. He smirks, increasing the pace.

“No… I’m going to… ngh… use you…” Sangwoo grits his teeth. He can’t last for much longer, not like this. Not when Bum is hanging by his wrists in front of him, with his flushed, dripping cock curling against his belly, helpless and desperate.

Sangwoo’s fist tightens around the head of his cock. Shivers run down his spine, his thighs tremble, his knees start to give in.

He jumps forward and he kisses Bum’s mouth harshly, sucking and biting into Bum’s lower lip, just as the tension that has been building up in his loins finally snaps.

White streaks of his cum land on Bum’s belly.

Sangwoo comes like that, with one hand still loosely resting on Bum’s nape and kissing him hard until they’re both out of breath.

“Use me,” Bum had murmured against his cheek. “Please. Leave me no choice, no escape. Take care of everything. I can’t stand it anymore. I need some rest.”

He’d been having a rough week at work, often coming home late in the evening or early in the morning, trembling with fatigue and an excess of caffeine, the circles under his eyes even more pronounced than usual.

He’d squeezed the back of Sangwoo’s hand with his own, looking at him with that way of his. Expectant. Trusting. Hopeful.

“Alright,” Sangwoo had consented, kissing his forehead.

Bum’s eyes are half-closed.

He senses Sangwoo moving around him. There’s a pull somewhere on his side; little by little, the tension in the rope that’s binding him diminishes. Sangwoo’s strong arms encircle him and he feels himself being slowly pulled down.

Bum smiles a little, allowing himself to be surrounded by the heat of Sangwoo’s skin, the steady, comforting presence of his body. He tries to move, instinctively, but Sangwoo’s hand on his shoulder gently stops him.

“Easy, wait, let me…” Sangwoo’s murmur gets lost somewhere near Bum’s ear, muffled by Bum’s hair, but the words themselves don’t matter that much. The tone now is soothing, gentle.

Sangwoo quickly works to undo the knots around Bum’s wrists, then he cautiously unclenches Bum’s fists.

Bum becomes vaguely aware of the fact that all that time he’s been holding onto the silver bells, without dropping them. Sangwoo takes them from his hands.

“Can I move you?”

Bum hums lazily in reply to the murmur in his ear. He feels one of Sangwoo’s forearms slip behind his shoulder blades. Sangwoo scoops him up slowly, incredibly delicately, as if he were a small kitten. A few seconds later, Bum recognizes the familiar softness of a thick mattress under his body: it’s the one they’ve set up in a corner of the basement for these moments after one of their sessions.

Warm hands slowly run up and down Bum’s sore wrists, massaging his arms to restore circulation.

“You were so, so good, you know,” Sangwoo is telling him. “So patient. And so fucking beautiful, baby.”

While he speaks, Sangwoo is carefully observing Bum’s whole body, grazing him lightly with his fingertips, checking for any trace of serious harm. Relaxed and heavy, Bum takes deep breaths and lets him.

“Remember to breathe, honey. That’s right, like that. Now, raise one finger if you feel alright, two if there’s anything that hurts too much. Don’t speak yet.”

Bum nods. He’s tired, but he remembers the procedure. He lifts one index and holds his hand high enough for Sangwoo to see it clearly, then he lets his arm slump heavily back down on the mattress. His throat still feels a little tight, but it’s nothing he hasn’t been through before.

He vaguely realizes that his dick is still half hard; he didn’t come, this time. But that’s fine. He might take care of it later, or maybe Sangwoo will help him. He sighs, pleased, feeling himself being flooded with the relief, that sense of having put down a huge burden, that often follows their most intense sessions.

Sangwoo remains sat down close to him. He leaves his left hand close to Bum’s right one on the mattress, so Bum can touch it or hold it if he wants. He wipes Bum’s black fringe away from his forehead.

“I’m going to stay here with you for a little bit, okay? In a few minutes, I’m getting up to get you water, and food too, if you want it. Don’t worry, everything’s right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Bum’s fingers close around Sangwoo’s hand. His eyes flutter open. He smiles at Sangwoo’s face, inches over his.

“Thank you,” he mouths.

Sangwoo brushes his cheekbone with the back of his hand.

“You’re welcome, love.”

Chapter Text

The air in the kitchen is dry and stifling, unbearably hot.

Bum moves a few inches forward, his bare knees sliding on the smooth, slippery surface of the floor.

He dips the rag inside the big metal bucket and twists it a few times to let the excess water drip, then he brings it back down on the tiles.

His knuckles, his fingers, his wrists, his arms ache. This kind of housework is heavy on his scrawny body; he feels the fatigue deep under his skin, in every muscle.

A sudden noise from somewhere in the house, outside the room, but not too close; Bum instinctively freezes, hunching his back.

Steps.

Steps.

Steps.

His heart races.

Coming closer…?

But no, he was wrong. Nothing happens. The steps seem to approach and they linger for a few moments in the corridor just outside; then they withdraw.

Bum’s shaking fingers dig into the soaked cloth.

He bows his head and resumes scrubbing, silently crawling around the kitchen on his hands and knees.

He’s sweating all over. The temperature in this late-July afternoon is almost impossible to bear.

He’s been working since the morning, and he’s starting to feel a bit light-headed now, though it’s nothing he can’t take. Sangwoo told him he’s not allowed to stop until he’s done cleaning the kitchen and making dinner; for lunch, Bum ate what little food he managed to swipe from the fridge.

That, too, is part of their game. The exhilarating thrill of not getting caught, of having to be quicker, more cunning than Sangwoo.

Bum knows that if he decides to disobey Sangwoo’s explicit orders, it’s always entirely at his own risk.

He scrubs another spot under the table and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm.

His knees are starting to hurt, too, from constantly scraping against the hard floor. There’s a veil of sweat all over his body that makes his skin clammy; sweat is pooling under his armpits, and in the back of his knees, and dripping down his spine.

Sweat is sticking the scarce fabric of the crop top he’s wearing to his back. It’s a simple white t-shirt, cropped just below his chest, so that almost the entirety of his abdomen is left exposed. On his chest the words ‘baby doll’ are written in large, glittery silver letters.

Instead of pants, or shorts, he’s wearing a pleated miniskirt. It’s made of a sheer, silky fabric; it’s black, with a pattern of printed flowers and leaves in delicate shades of peach, red, orange and green. The wavy hem stops several inches above his knees, uncovering a big portion of his thighs.

The clothes are pretty and delicate, the soft fabrics damp with his sweat. They rub against him, the small top brushes against his nipples, the skirt softly bounces on his thighs with every movement.

It’s not that he doesn’t like them. They’re not entirely unlike the things he wears of his own accord, in his everyday life. But this is different; there is something so utterly mortifying about wearing them.

They’re clothes that Sangwoo chose expressly for him, clothes that Sangwoo personally put on Bum’s body with his own hands. There’s a delicious sort of shiver about being dressed up by Sangwoo, in exactly the attire he wants him to wear, before being sent off to do his chores.

Bum has had no say in this, no choice. It makes his cheeks burn and his heartbeat thump in his ears.

There’s also the light but steady weight of a leather choker around the base of his neck.

This collar, too, is a gift that Sangwoo picked out for him. It’s made of shiny black leather with a plain square metal buckle. He knows Sangwoo especially appreciates the simplicity, the directness of its symbolic meaning.

Bum is his slave. He’s nothing but a possession, at Sangwoo’s service, an object for him to do as he pleases.

And he’d better remember that.

Bum has stopped cleaning. Absent-mindedly, he fiddles with the buckle. He slips the tip of his middle finger in the tiny space between his neck and the leather, and a small sigh escapes his lips.

He thinks of Sangwoo’s hands, of his fingers, rough and calloused and warm, sliding over his throat as they fastened the collar.

Under the skirt, his cock stirs between his thighs.

Bum bites back a moan. He flashes a quick glance at the doorway: empty. The house around him has gone silent for a while now. Sangwoo must be somewhere upstairs, or maybe outside.

Bum sits back on his heels, his legs tucked under his body.

His hand lingers on the choker. He’s been intermittently hard for the whole day, and is cock is strained and aching now, hypersensitive to the slightest accidental brush of fabric or skin.

His left wrist twitches. He is tempted to slide his hand between his thighs, give in, touch himself even just for a quick, furtive rub through the skirt. Anything to find a bit of relief.

He could do it. Maybe even get away with it – if he’s quick, quiet and careful enough. Sangwoo hasn’t checked on him for a while. He ordered him to make the floor shine and then he went off to mind his own business, taking care of other chores around the house.

Bum’s breath is shaky.

He could touch himself little by little, so subtly that Sangwoo would never notice (in truth, Bum knows he would notice). One swipe of the rag, one tiny little touch. He could bring himself to climax rubbing his crotch over the floor, he thinks, that’s how tense he is.

Or he could be quick and rough instead, pulling his cock out and pumping on it before Sangwoo has a chance to surprise him, coming hard with a rough thrust of his hips…

How long has it been? Half an hour? One hour, or two?

Left on his own, Bum is losing sense of time, his mind drifting into this sort of blank space that comes and goes like a tide. He shakes his head, gripping the cloth harder in his fists.

He could be naughty; if he were in a different mood, he might have already disobeyed Sangwoo’s order. Provoking him would be a surefire way to obtain Sangwoo’s attention, and he knows it.

But he’s not going to do it. Today, he wants to be good for him; he wants to show him the good work he’s been doing, how nice and docile he’s been.

He wants Sangwoo to be happy with him.

He needs Sangwoo to praise him.

Again, the sound of steps.

This time, they’re unmistakably getting closer.

“Hey, Bum.”

Bum’s breath itches in his throat. Anticipation shoots down his spine like a flaming dart.

He stills, the heavy rag in his hands. He’s still on all fours, under the table.

Sangwoo approaches, leisurely striding towards him.

Bum senses him as he walks around the table to finally stand directly in front of where Bum is. Sangwoo grabs one of the chairs that Bum has propped upside down on the table, and noisily sets it down. Bum flinches, but he still doesn’t move.

Sangwoo sits down.

“Come out from down there. What the fuck are you even doing?”

Bum quivers, despite the sweltering heat. It’s the voice, the cruel, cold voice that seems to flow so naturally out of Sangwoo’s pretty mouth. The voice that makes him want to lick the ground under Sangwoo’s feet, to roll on his back and offer him every vulnerable bit as a sacrifice.

Bum always has a hard time not throwing every bit of caution and self-preservation to the wind, when Sangwoo uses that voice.

Little by little, hanging his head, he crawls out from under the table. Sangwoo is sitting sideways on the chair, with his legs spread. Bum settles between his knees.

He doesn’t look up, but he can feel the way Sangwoo’s gaze is piercing through him, scorching him. He tries his best to keep still, waiting for orders, for anything Sangwoo may want from him. He tries not to get his hopes up.

“Do you call this cleaning?” The blade in Sangwoo’s voice is sharp. “If I give you an order, I expect you to do what I tell you. Don’t you think?”

Bum doesn’t reply. He’s not sure it’s allowed; he doesn’t want to risk it.

A beat.

“Look at me,” Sangwoo snaps.

He doesn’t touch Bum – doesn’t grasp his chin, doesn’t pull his hair like he does other times – but he doesn’t need to.

Bum’s head bounces up, and he finally dares to look at Sangwoo.

With his chin resting on one fist, Sangwoo looks down on Bum. 

“Answer me,” he demands, more calmly than before. “That huge corner over there is still dirty. Look.” He lazily points to his left with his arm. “So, tell me. Did you do a good job, Bum? Did you do what I told you?”

Bum licks his lips. His skin is tingling.

“No, Sangwoo,” he murmurs, very quietly.

A smirk flickers on the corner of Sangwoo’s lips. Bum wants to kiss it.

“I didn’t hear you. Speak up.”

“N-no, Sangwoo!” Bum exclaims, making an effort to keep his voice louder and steady. “Y-you told me to clean the kitchen and I didn’t do it well.”

Sangwoo stands up, still smiling.

“Well, then you’re going to have to start over, aren’t you?”

With a single, precise movement of his shin, he lands a powerful kick on the metal bucket next to Bum and sends it flying in mid-air.

Dirty grey, bubbly water spills over the floor, flooding the shiny tiles.

Bum recoils at the sudden noise, his heart beating wildly. His fear is not real, but the surprise at the gesture is genuine. He had expected Sangwoo to come over to oversee his work and probably bully him, but he didn’t expect this.

Sangwoo crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well? You’ve got nothing to say?” He sits back down.

“Come. I want to see your face.”

For an instant, Bum is about to stand up; he suppresses that impulse, instead pressing his palms down on the floor. He pointedly crawls very slowly closer to Sangwoo, slightly arching his back so that his ass is pushed upwards. The thin miniskirt sways gently around his bruised, naked legs.

Sangwoo hooks the tip of his index finger under the leather band of the choker, pulling Bum closer with a quick, firm gesture. For a moment, the light pressure takes Bum’s breath away.

He senses the warmth of Sangwoo’s breath, the familiar shape of his mouth so close to his own.

Bum keeps his eyes down, the image of meek obedience. He can feel he’s blushing; he can’t help it.

“God, you’re a mess,” Sangwoo comments. He licks his lips, his eyes fixated on Bum’s mouth.

“Going around the house like that, with those poor excuses for clothes. You didn’t even complain when I put them on you. You must like wearing them, hm?” He thumbs the arc of Bum’s lower lip; distractedly, he pushes his thumb and his index inside Bum’s mouth.

“You’re such a whore. Always showing off, with your pretty legs and your tight little ass… you hope I’m gonna give you attention if you tease me?”

While he speaks, he keeps pushing his fingers farther to the back of Bum’s palate. Bum obediently tries to keep his tongue down, to resist the urge of biting. Warm, sticky saliva coats Sangwoo’s phalanges. He reaches Bum’s throat and Bum chokes, gags around his fingers with a hoarse little noise; but still, Bum does nothing to get away.

Sangwoo pulls his hand away, still grinning.

“Mm, you’re so quiet today. What’s wrong? Are you angry at me? Giving me the silent treatment?”

Bum looks down. He knows Sangwoo is trying to rile him up. If he slips up and makes the mistake of talking back now, he’s just going to give Sangwoo what he wants, the pretext to punish him further.

Without saying anything, Bum simply bows down even more on the floor, prostrating himself between Sangwoo’s legs. His belly and his pelvis drag against the slippery tiles.

He grabs one of Sangwoo’s ankles, pressing his forehead against his bare foot.

“I apologize, Sangwoo,” he murmurs, but loudly and clearly enough for the other to hear. “I am sorry that I disappointed you. I didn’t do what you asked me to. You can insult me as much as you like, if you want to.”

Pause.

He looks up at Sangwoo.

“I live to serve you. I just want to make you happy, Sangwoo. I will do anything you want.”

He can almost see the thrill running through Sangwoo’s body, like lightning; the subtle light flaring in Sangwoo’s eyes.

Sangwoo’s smile softens.

“… Damn. You’re really too cute for your own good, Bum.”

He pats his knees. “Come up here.”

He stretches out his arm, offering his hand.

Bum puts his smaller palm onto Sangwoo’s. Sangwoo lifts him up on his feet, pulling him onto his lap.

Sangwoo’s strong arms wrap around Bum’s small waist, hugging him from behind. Bum is facing away from him, looking at the table and the doorway.

Sangwoo rests his chin in the curve between Bum’s right shoulder and his neck. He starts peeling off the fabric of the crop top, grazing Bum’s nipples.

Bum winces, trying not to react, to not betray the oversensitive state of his body.

It’s useless; he knows Sangwoo has noticed.

Sangwoo pinches his left nipple between thumb and index, twisting and pulling on it. He’s not gentle about it; his touches are rough and sharp, sending small sparks of pleasure and pain through Bum’s chest.

At the same time, he runs his other hand over the right nipple, teasing and stroking the tip. Bum lets out a small meowling sound, unwittingly sinking his nails into Sangwoo’s thighs.

“Sangwoo…” He doesn’t know what he wants to say. Does he want to beg?

The friction is almost too much, it nearly hurts, but it feels so good. He wants Sangwoo to continue, he could come from having his nipples played with, he’s going insane…

But Sangwoo’s hands glide down, over Bum’s naked hips, massaging the sweaty skin. He spreads Bum’s legs, palms and squeezes the inner part of his thighs.

He lifts the tiny skirt, cups Bum’s crotch in his palm. Underneath, Bum is wearing a tight pair of silky red panties with lace on the hem, and the fabric is wet with sweat and pre-cum.

Sangwoo kneads his cock through the panties, slowly, at first barely sliding his fingertips over the sensitive spot.

Bum keens, trembling, and throws his head back.

He feels the grin in Sangwoo’s voice; his ravenous appetite, barely held back.

“Mm… you’re hard, baby,” Sangwoo’s grip tightens. “Have you been like this for the whole day?”

Sangwoo pushes the front of the panties aside, revealing Bum’s reddened member, drops of pre-cum glistening on the tip.

He runs the tip of his index over it, softly teasing the slit. Bum trembles as if he’s been electrocuted.

“… F-fuck,” he mumbles, before he can help it, even though he knows that cussing is usually met with punishment.

Sangwoo snickers in his ear. This time, he seems inclined to let it slide.

“You’ve been thinking of me, Bum? You wanted me so much?”

He slowly caresses Bum’s cock, up and down, with small teasing touches that are not remotely enough to allow Bum to come, despite how desperate he is getting.

“Y-yes,” Bum exhales, rubbing his ass on Sangwoo’s leg, frantically trying to push his hips against Sangwoo’s legs. “Yes, mmh, I want you, Sangwoo, only you…”

Sangwoo holds him closer. He keeps touching him, softly, patiently, running one fingernail along one of the veins on Bum’s cock.

“You’ve been working so hard for me,” he whispers. “Such a good pet.” He leaves a trail of small kisses on Bum’s neck, on his jaw, right under his right ear. “I can’t stay mad at you when you try so hard to be good for me…”

Both of Sangwoo’s hands slide down Bum’s stomach and settle between his open legs.

A shiver of anticipation and desire runs down Bum’s spine.

Sangwoo’s teeth pull on the soft skin of Bum’s right earlobe.

“Don’t worry… I’m going to take really good care of you.”

Chapter Text

Bum’s back slams against the hard wall of the bathroom stall. The wooden door shuts close behind them, just as Bum finds himself trapped between Sangwoo’s arms, Sangwoo’s thighs pressing against his hips.

Sangwoo’s fingers catch his chin, pulling him closer for a breathless kiss that tastes like beer and nicotine.

“You’ve been drinking…”

Bum smiles coyly. “Yeah…”

He wraps his arms around Sangwoo’s neck, fingers scratching the shorter hair on his nape.

He curls his tongue over Sangwoo’s lower lip, moaning into his mouth. Sangwoo lets him in, the inside of his mouth hot and wet.

When they pull away, Sangwoo’s impeccable hair is messed up and Bum is panting.

He slowly licks his lips, chasing the remaining traces of Sangwoo’s taste. He wants more.

Sangwoo doesn’t appear to have any intention of letting him go, either.

He draws closer, again, resting one forearm on the wall just above the left side of Bum’s head.

“What was that all about, earlier?” he growls. His voice is low and unsteady.

Bum looks at him with huge eyes, feigning innocence. His face grows hotter, the combined effect of arousal plus one beer and several shots.

“Mh?” Bum pushes his black fringe away from his eyes with a flick of his wrist. “You’re the one who grabbed me and pushed me in here, Sangwoo…”

Sangwoo furrows his brows. His tone turns dangerous, which is what Bum wanted, what Bum always wants, to be perfectly honest.

Sangwoo’s grip on Bum’s chin tightens, just a little bit.

“You know,” he breathes on Bum’s mouth. “You’ve been teasing me all night. You thought I wouldn’t notice?”

His hands glide down Bum’s sides, grabbing his hips. He abruptly yanks him closer, eliciting a small gasp and then a giggle from Bum, who just seizes the opportunity to rub himself against Sangwoo’s leg, covered by his expensive jeans.

“… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sangwoo,” he insists, with a sheepish little smile; but the way he bites his lower lip and the growing flush on his cheeks betray him.  

Sangwoo tilts Bum’s face to a side and leans down to leave open-mouthed kisses on his neck, on his jawline, on his temple.

“Don’t play with me. First you nearly start jerking me off under the table, and then…” Sangwoo inhales sharply, “… you were flirting with Jieun. Holding her hand, rubbing yourself all over her on the dancefloor…”

Bum keeps smiling, turning away. His hand fiddles with one of his pockets, black fingernails pulling on the fabric.

“We were just doing shots together…”

He’s hoping for Sangwoo to do something, to squeeze his neck or slap him; but Sangwoo doesn’t do that. Instead, he grabs the low neckline of Bum’s black tank top, and keeps kissing and nibbling on Bum’s ear. It sends little shivers of pleasure down his body, to his lower belly and his thighs; but it’s not enough, it only serves to make Bum hotter.

“You sat on Dongyu’s lap, rubbing your ass on him. And you kissed his cheek,” Sangwoo hisses.

His right hand slips between Bum’s thighs and roughly strokes him through his black skinny jeans.

Bum moans, pushing his crotch into Sangwoo’s hand. His back slides a little further down against the wall. He makes a weak effort to slip away, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth.

Sangwoo doesn’t let him, caging him with his body. His eyes half-closed and his brows furrowed in concentration as he keeps touching Bum.

Bum turns his head. He sends a long, sultry look at Sangwoo from under his long, black lashes.

He spreads his legs, slowly thrusting his pelvis against Sangwoo’s hand.

“Sangwoo…” he whispers, slowly, rolling the world on his tongue like a candy. His arms again snake around Sangwoo’s waist and he slips his hands inside Sangwoo’s back pockets.

“… Sangwoo, are you… jealous?”

This time, he gets something closer to what he wanted.

With a grunt and a sudden movement, Sangwoo grasps one of Bum’s thighs and lifts him up in his arms, pulling him up against the wall.

“Yes,” he snarls. He breathes close to Bum’s neck, inhaling the scent of his hair, of the sweat on his skin. “You’re such a damn tease. You’re… ah… having fun, aren’t you?”

Bum caresses his face, holding it in his hands. He plants a small, chaste kiss on Sangwoo’s lips.

“Yeah. I like it when you’re like this with me,” he murmurs. “So angry… so possessive. It suits you.”

His cheeks and the back of his neck burn as he says it, and his head is spinning a little from the stifling, humid heat inside the small space of the stall. Bum wants Sangwoo to pull his zipper down, slip one hand inside his boxers, touch him, jerk him off, finger him… he wants it so bad.

He claims Sangwoo’s mouth again, breathing hard and desperately, small sounds echoing in his throat.

Sangwoo kisses him back. Bum’s back hits the wall again, with a loud thud that people are probably going to hear from outside, but he doesn’t care, he can’t care, not right now.

Sangwoo’s fingers dig into his legs, the aftertaste of his cigarettes fills Bum’s palate – but then, Sangwoo pulls away.

“Bum, wait,” he stammers, hoarse and breathless.

Bum looks at him in the stark white light of the bathroom. The music from the dancefloor thumps all around them, it vibrates through their bodies, through the dirty floor under their feet.

“Do you…” All of a sudden, Sangwoo seems to be struggling to find the words. “… Do you actually think my friends are attractive? Do you really want to…?”

The rest of the sentence dies in his throat. He’s blushing, and he seems uneasy.

Bum quickly comes down from his warm cloud of excitement and arousal, realizing that Sangwoo looks genuinely a little… worried.

Bum shakes his head. He presses his forehead against Sangwoo’s own, cupping the back of his head with his hand.

“Sangwoo,” he says, gently. “Never. You know that. I was just messing around, okay?”

He kisses the tip of Sangwoo’s nose. “I mean… yes, Jieun is very cute, but she’s just my friend. I would never do anything with anyone else. Not unless you’re okay with it.”

He kisses Sangwoo’s mouth.

“I just wanted to see your reaction, baby. Wanted to see if it would excite you…”

Relief visibly floods Sangwoo’s face, little by little allowing his expression to soften back into a smile.

His hands once again regain a steady grip on Bum’s slender hips.

“Good,” he whispers. “Because I don’t really think I want to share you.”

All of a sudden, he makes Bum turn around.

This time, Bum finds himself with his forehead brushing against the graffiti-covered tiles.

His heart races, the heat in his body grows, and he smiles again, triumphantly.

One of Sangwoo’s hands settles on his ass, stroking him through his jeans. There’s Sangwoo’s left arm leaning close to his head, on his left, and Bum wants to lick and kiss the smooth skin of his forearm.

Sangwoo gropes him slowly, digging his fingers into Bum’s ass cheeks.

“Bum… don’t you ever tease me like this again,” he murmurs in Bum’s ear.

Without warning, he lands a single, powerful slap on his ass.

It’s softer than the way he hits when they’re in the privacy of their bedroom, certainly much less than what he can dish out, than what Bum can take. Still, the surprise mixed with the faint sting of the blow makes Bum jump forward, his spine arching upwards; a pleased little sound escapes his throat.

Sangwoo is quick to hold him in place.

“I should punish you,” Sangwoo growls, now gently rubbing slow little circles on the spot he just hit.

With both hands leaning on the wall, Bum braces himself for more, hopes for it – but again, Sangwoo doesn’t do what he’s expecting.

Instead, Sangwoo’s hands fiddle with Bum’s belt, making it slide through the passers. He peels Bum’s jeans down, the denim scraping against Bum’s skin as it glides down his thighs.

Bum remains still. He hears a similar ruffle of fabric behind him, and then the next thing he feels is Sangwoo rubbing his crotch against his ass, this time with nothing but the cotton of their underwear between them.

Sangwoo is hard, unmistakably so. He grinds against Bum, not slowly like before, but frantically, every rough movement reminding Bum of just how much stronger he is, how much of that strength is barely kept under control for Bum’s sake.

His mouth is dry. He thinks he’s never wanted Sangwoo more urgently than he does right now.

With one finger Sangwoo pushes down the hem of Bum’s underwear, just enough to reveal the beginning of his crack. Bum gasps when he presses his still clothed dick against the space between his ass cheeks.

Sangwoo thrusts against him, with the same aggressive snap of his hips as if he were actually inside of him. “You’re mine,” he says through his teeth.

Bum abandons himself against him, following Sangwoo’s motions with his body.

“Y-yes…”

Sangwoo’s hands slip under Bum’s shirt, sliding over his stomach and his chest.

“No one else can touch you like this. Never.”

Another thrust. Bum pushes his ass up.

“No one else, Sangwoo,” he pants. “Only you. I’m yours. Yours. Please…”

His whole body tenses, his asshole clenches around empty air, frantically chasing the shape of Sangwoo’s cock.

The tip of Sangwoo’s tongue teases the curve between his neck and shoulder.  

“You feel it?” A quick kiss there, followed by a hard bite that makes Bum yelp and bang his balled-up fists against the wall.

Sangwoo’s voice is low, hoarse. There’s no trace of playful teasing now – just raw, angry lust and urgent need.

“See how hard you’ve made me, Bum? This is your fault.”

Bum whines. Sangwoo grabs his shoulder.

“How are you going to make it up to me?”

Ignoring the wild drumming of the blood in his temples, that’s telling Bum to just grab the condom he has buried inside his pocket and just let Sangwoo fuck him right there and then, Bum forces himself to pull away.

He turns around again. Without caring about his pants that are only halfway-up and rubbing against the dirty floor, he drops to his knees.

That’s his place, the place he deserves, the place where he wants to be.

“Show me, Sangwoo,” he says, softly. “Remind me exactly who I belong to.”

Despite the hammering rhythm of techno music coming from the dancefloor, he can almost hear the way Sangwoo’s breath gets stuck in his throat for a moment, the thick gulp of air and saliva.

Sangwoo spreads his legs.

He rests one hand on Bum’s head, petting his sweaty hair. The caress will turn into a curled-up fist soon enough, hopefully.

Sangwoo pulls his boxers down.

Looking up at him, Bum opens his mouth.

Chapter Text

The first time, it’s about three or four months in their relationship, and they’re at Sangwoo’s house.

It’s one of those lazy evenings in November when the silence is pleasant and drowsy. Outside the window the sky is dark; a thick veil of mist has descended over the streets, enveloping the street lights in a trembling haze.

They’re in the living room. They’ve been lying on the couch for a while, their legs entwined, Bum’s head resting comfortably over Sangwoo’s chest and Sangwoo’s arm wrapped around his back.

“Hey, Sangwoo.”

Bum lays a soft caress on Sangwoo’s cheek with the back of his hand.

Sangwoo looks up at him with a lazy, content smile. He reaches out and picks a tuft of black hair that is sticking out on Bum’s forehead, pushing it to a side.

“Yeah?”

Bum’ expression suddenly turns serious. He shifts on the sofa, the cushions moving under him.

Slowly, he climbs on top of Sangwoo, settling with his crotch just above Sangwoo’s, with one leg at either side of Sangwoo’s hips.

Sangwoo keeps looking at him, silently studying his face. That same soft smile from before is playing on his lips, slightly curious now, as he waits to see what Bum is going to do.

Bum nibbles on his thumb. It’s a gesture that suddenly makes him look a lot younger than the university student he is, and a lot more vulnerable.

“I… I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

His cheeks grow red, which is… an interesting turn of events, in Sangwoo’s opinion.

He makes an encouraging nod with his head.

“Sure. Go ahead.”

Silence. Bum’s black eyes move away from Sangwoo’s face, stubbornly staring at a spot somewhere on the ground.

“It’s just, it’s kind of…” The tip of Bum’s tongue peeks out from his mouth, darting over his lower lip before disappearing again. Sangwoo has already kissed that mouth countless times, felt that pretty tongue sliding on his; but every time he looks at Bum’s lips, he wants to kiss him again and again.

“It’s just, I don’t want you to think that… that I’m weird, or something. Or, or that I don’t like you, because—” Bum’s face is crimson now “… because I-I do. I l-like you a lot.”

Sangwoo feels his heart soften, the small beginning of alarm in his mind already starting to dissipate. He feels a little guilty for thinking it, but Bum’s shyness is adorable. Whatever it is that he’s so worried about… it can’t be that bad, right? If it’s something that he feels comfortable enough sharing with him, no, something that Bum seems to need to tell him.

A very small fraction of him is still a bit apprehensive, because Bum seems so nervous about it, but Sangwoo’s curiosity is also stronger than ever.

“I like you too, Bum,” he murmurs. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it. No need to worry.”

Sangwoo’s slides the palms of his hands over Bum’s thighs.

“C’mon. You can tell me.”

Bum takes a long, deep breath.

Little by little, he leans down, sliding against Sangwoo’s abdomen, until their bodies are lying on top of each other and fitting together almost perfectly.

“I…” Bum’s lips twitch and tremble, a ripe fruit one kiss away from Sangwoo’s mouth.

“I’d like you to be more rough with me,” he says, finally.

His voice is quiet, but it doesn’t shake; there’s an unexpected confidence, and resolution, in his tone and words.

“I… I want you to hit me, Sangwoo.”

Finally, he manages to meet Sangwoo’s eyes again. Bum’s cheeks are still flushed; but he looks more relaxed now, as if relieved of a heavy burden, after saying what evidently must have been on his mind for quite a while.

For a few moments, Sangwoo doesn’t speak. His heart has started beating a little faster, he feels the rumble of his pulse in his ears.

He jumps up in a sitting position, causing Bum to lose his balance with the sudden movement; Bum seems to interpret it as a sign that he’s being pushed away, because he starts to withdraw, but Sangwoo stops him, grabbing his hand.

He slides his fingers between Bum’s, pulling him close again.

“This…” The smile, huge, incredulous, widens on his mouth before he can stop it. He sees that Bum’s expression is confused now, but Sangwoo can’t help it, he’s also struggling to put his thoughts in order.

“Are you sure, Bum?” Sangwoo can barely suppress his excitement. “Would you really… trust me with this?”

Bum’s dark eyes widen.

“You mean… that you’d be okay with it?”

Sangwoo lifts one of Bum’s hand between his own. He kisses his knuckles, the inside of his wrist.

“I… I’d like it. Very much. Yeah, I think I could do it…” He lets go of Bum’s hand and ruffles his hair.

“I’ve told you a bit about… the things that I like, right? But I thought we wanted to… take it slow, you know.”

Bum nods. They’ve talked a few times, about what they’re like, what they enjoy; but never very explicitly, or in depth. Mostly just hints here and there, a bit of flirty back-and-forth through texting. Bum saying that he likes how big and strong Sangwoo is, that he’d be good at giving orders and he’d look good while doing it. Sangwoo joking about pulling him onto his lap and smacking his ass, but he’s never found the courage to actually do anything like that.

They’re a lot bolder when they’re hiding behind the screen of a cellphone. In person, they’re still both shy and nervous.

They’ve messed around plenty, and they’ve already slept together several times, but Sangwoo never wants Bum to feel pressured, so he does his best to keep himself in check. He lets the other man take the lead if he feels like it, even if means he ends up going back home frustrated and wanting more.

Bum makes Sangwoo’s head spin and his blood boil; but he looks so delicate, so fragile, that he can’t help but go out of his way to be gentle with him, maybe even more than necessary. He wants Bum to feel good, to feel safe around him.

Still, there’s a part of him, that he’s been trying not to think about, that has wondered what it would be like to pin Bum against a wall, to tie up his pretty wrists with rope or handcuffs, and see what beautiful sounds he can get out of him…

He’s getting carried away. Sangwoo bites his tongue, trying to ignore a rush of arousal going straight to his crotch. That’s why he usually tries not to think about these things, when it comes to Bum: he already wants him too much as it is.

But now, knowing that after all, Bum might be open to the same sort of pleasures that Sangwoo likes…

Sangwoo nudges him gently with his nose, pressing their foreheads together.

“Thank you for telling me,” he murmurs.

Bum stays there, close to him, without saying anything for a while. Under his woolen sweater, Sangwoo hears the fast beating of Bum’s heart.

He still looks a little dumbfounded at Sangwoo’s reaction, as if in his own mind he’d already resigned himself to be met with disgust and rejection. The bitter realization flashes through Sangwoo’s mind, that this sort of reaction might have happened to him before.

But not with him; Sangwoo could never react that way no matter what he found out about Bum. It hasn’t been that long since they’ve started dating, but every day they’re always discovering more and more similarities and common experiences between them.

He reaches over to give Bum a small peck on the lips.

“You want me to hit you… is there anything in particular that you’d like me to do?”

It’s Bum’s turn, now, to finally allow himself to smile, still the slightest bit hesitantly.

“Yeah…” He shrugs, his small shoulders moving under the large dark green sweater.

He stares at Sangwoo’s mouth. “I thought about you… slapping my face. Pulling my hair… I like that. And spanking me. With your hand, or… with your belt…” Bum’s eyes dart to Sangwoo’s legs, then return to his face. “I imagined you… choking me while you fuck me, with both hands around my neck.”

Close to him, Sangwoo squirms, because Bum’s words and the soft, almost nonchalant tone he’s using have just sent a new rush of blood straight to his cock. He’s getting hard just hearing this, and Bum is going to see it, feel it, know just how much Sangwoo desires him.

Cupping Bum’s cheek with his left hand, he tries to laugh off his embarrassment and his growing arousal; but his voice, when he speaks, comes out choked and breathy.

“You must have been thinking about this for a long time, huh…?”

Bum seizes his hand. Catching Sangwoo by surprise, he softly sinks his teeth into his palm, releasing him after a quick, stinging bite.

“Yes,” Bum exhales, his eyes locked with Sangwoo’s. “I’ve been wanting it for so long. I wanted to tell you so much…”

His voice turns soft and heavy, like honey drippling from a spoon. Inch by inch, he regains his position in Sangwoo’s lap and Sangwoo pulls him in, wrapping his arms around Bum’s thin frame.

Bum nuzzles his head against Sangwoo’s shoulder.

“I’ve been fantasizing about you when I was alone. I touched myself thinking about you saying mean things to me, doing everything you wanted to me…”

Sangwoo is forgetting how to breathe. Fuck, Bum is good at this, even in person, once he’s feeling comfortable enough.

Wrapping his arms around Sangwoo’s neck, Bum starts slowly rubbing himself against Sangwoo’s legs, with slow, precise rolls of his hips.

“Will you do it, Sangwoo?” he whispers. His dark hair tickles Sangwoo’s ear.

“Will you hit me? Please. I want it so much…”

This voice is unlike anything Sangwoo has ever heard from him, completely different from the way he speaks even when they’re alone. It’s a small, sultry voice, pleading but mischievous; Bum is asking, but he knows exactly what he wants, and he knows how to get it.

Sangwoo’s hands, resting on Bum’s back, dig into the wool of his sweater.

He hears this tiny sound, Bum breathing hard or maybe letting out a small chuckle. 

Bum leans closer. A quick sting of pain; his thin fingers run through Sangwoo’s curls, grabbing some of the strands. Bum pushes Sangwoo’s head back, with a nearly imperious gesture, and licks a long stripe on his neck.

“You’re so strong, Sangwoo,” he murmurs, almost reverently, “You could wreck me completely… you could take control of me, and leave me no choice…”

He leaves kisses and bites on Sangwoo’s neck, right under his jaw.

Sangwoo shivers, unable to stay still.

He brings one hand to Bum’s nape, petting his hair.

“Is that so, hm?”

Bum leans forward to kiss his mouth. “Yes, Sangwoo…”

With a sharp, sudden jolt, Sangwoo grabs a hold of a fistful of Bum’s hair and abruptly pulls him backwards.

Bum gasps, his upper body arching, bending to the sheer force of Sangwoo’s hand. Still, a small, almost defiant smile blooms on his mouth.

Sangwoo gives Bum’s hair another firm tug.

He bares his teeth.

“Do you think you’re in control? You think you can tell me what to do here?” he growls in Bum’s ear.

He’s nearly surprised himself by the sound of his own voice. It’s the first time he has ever spoken to Bum in such a way; yet it seems to flow out naturally, instinctively from his mouth, this tone that is cold as steel and sharp as a knife.

Bum doesn’t attempt to struggle. He stills completely and he stares at Sangwoo in awe, as if he’s just discovered something priceless and incredible.

Sangwoo yanks him closer. He lets go of Bum’s hair to trap Bum’s chin in thumb and index, taking a good look at his face: the round curve of his forehead, his delicate lips, his full cheeks.

He smiles, threateningly, then licks Bum’s neck, curling the tip of his tongue against the curve of Bum’s throat.

“Someone here is in need of discipline…”

He feels the shudder of Bum’s skin under his tongue.

When Sangwoo pulls away, the smile on Bum’s face now is pure, unmistakable triumph.

Sangwoo lifts his right hand, with the palm flat and the fingers stretched out, carefully pressed together. He keeps holding Bum’s chin in his left.

His heart races at the thought of what he is actually, seriously about to do – excitement, and fear, and the certainty that no matter what happens, he doesn’t want to do more than what Bum can take.

“I am going to hit you once, for being a naughty little brat,” he warns. “You are going to stay still.”

Bum licks his lips. His gaze is deep and unwavering.

“Do it, Sangwoo.”

Sangwoo’s arm cuts obliquely through the air.

The palm of his hand impacts Bum’s left cheek with a loud smack, turning Bum’s head to the opposite side. Bum recoils slightly, letting out a small gasp. Sangwoo didn’t hit hard, carefully measuring the blow; but he still feels the impact reverberate through his fingers, spreading along his wrist, the echo of that rapid contact burning on his fingertips.

Bum looks at him with parted lips and wild eyes.

“More, Sangwoo,” he orders breathily. “Harder.”

Sangwoo’s body is on fire. He can’t speak.

If he’d known that Bum had this in him, he would have done something about it way sooner.

Before he can think, he’s already lunging forward, one of his hand grabbing Bum by his hair again. He pulls harder, one, two hard, sharp tugs; but Bum’s eyes flutter close and he moans, and he lifts his head to bump it against Sangwoo’s hand like a cat.

That’s when Sangwoo understands, finally understands, that Bum was never kidding when he hinted at his being a masochist.

Sangwoo draws closer again.

“Didn’t I tell you,” he snarls, “that you’re not the one making requests here?”

He lifts his hand again.

Bum never trembles, never loses sight of Sangwoo’s face. He doesn’t budge at all.

Sangwoo slaps him again.

This time, the back of Sangwoo’s right hand smashes against Bum’s cheek, his knuckles digging for a moment into the soft flesh.

Whack.

A desperate keen falls from Bum's open mouth, an inarticulate, pleading sound like the ones he makes when Sangwoo sucks his cock or curls one or two fingers inside of him. Sangwoo hears the clacking of Bum’s teeth, he watches his black hair whip the air for the fraction of a second, before the hard, heavy blow sends him falling to the left.

Sangwoo’s blood is singing, a rush of crackling adrenaline fills his entire body. It’s exhilarating. His head is light.

He moves automatically, without hesitation, to catch Bum with his strong, steady arms before he falls off the couch.

Bum breathes heavily in his ears, his heart thumping loudly against Sangwoo’s chest. Sangwoo hugs him, holding him tightly.

Bum breaks away first from the embrace to glance at him.

His cheeks are flushed pink, the bangs on his forehead are a mess. He lifts a hand to carefully touch at his lips with his fingertips. He’s not bleeding, but they look puffy and a little pink around the contours.

Bum smiles at him, and Sangwoo is rock hard.

“Sangwoo—” again the sultry, seductive voice, “You’re so good at this. I really like it when you hurt me…”

Bum wraps his slender legs, clad in a pair of dark blue jeans, around Sangwoo’s waist.

“I think I want you to beat me up a little more…”

Sangwoo snorts, incredulous, ecstatic, still high on the indescribable sensation of Bum’s pleasure at being hit by him.

He catches both of Bum’s wrists in one hand, trapping them in a steely grasp.

Bum swallows.

“Insatiable, aren’t you…?” Sangwoo teases, only to then tighten his grip even more. “Such a greedy little thing…”

“Ah...!”

Before he can react, Bum finds himself pushed down on his back and pinned down under Sangwoo’s body. His arms are stretched far above his head, held down against the sofa’s armrest.

Sangwoo leans down, eyeing Bum as if he’s a feast laid out before his eyes, and all he has to do is chose where to start.

Yes, he thinks he rather likes that image, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do from now on.

He’s going to devour Bum, piece by piece, taking his time to discover every new, savory bit.

He grips one of Bum’s hips with his free hand, roughly lifting Bum’s pelvis. He starts rubbing his still clothed crotch against Bum’s, feeling the hardness of Bum’s own erection.

Sangwoo starts rutting against him at a faster pace, still grasping his wrists.

“There are so many things I’m going to do to you, cutie,” he hisses while he keeps relentlessly grinding and pushing against Bum’s crotch. With every thrust of their hips, every movement of Sangwoo’s thighs, the sofa creaks and jumps under them.

“You have no idea. I want to torture you. I want you begging for mercy, absolutely fucking wrecked…”

Bum stretches his back, pressing himself against Sangwoo. His cock is hot and throbbing, Sangwoo can feel it even through their pants. From the way Bum’s hips are swaying, from the way his breath is quickening, Sangwoo senses that he’s getting closer and closer.

Sangwoo thrusts into him one more time.

“Hm… ngh… yeah, you like the sound of that, don’t you?”

Bum hooks his ankles onto Sangwoo’s back, dragging him further down.

He stills, suddenly, and his body becomes rigid and tense for a moment before going limp.

He looks up at Sangwoo, with his feverish eyes and his reddened, swollen face.

“Yes,” Bum exhales, shuddering and whimpering in the waves of his climax.

“Yes, Sangwoo, please.”

Chapter Text

Stripes of orange light fall upon Bum’s sleeping face, upon the curve of his naked shoulder and his hunched figure, curled up on his side under a bundle of sheets.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Sangwoo looks at him. Stray bangs of jet-black hair have fallen over Bum’s forehead, brushing his nose and his temples. If Sangwoo looks closely, he can see them sway gently with the calm, even rhythm of Bum’s breaths. Like he often does, he is sleeping with his right hand tucked under his head, his fist clenched under his cheek. The other arm is splayed out loosely over the sheet, with his open hand twitching slightly from time to time.

In a corner, the new fan they recently bought continues to hum with a low, monotonous noise. The room is hot and humid in the stifling, unforgiving heat of a summer evening.

A slow, fond smile blooms on Sangwoo’s lips before he realizes it.

He reaches out with one hand, wanting to pet Bum’s head – then he refrains, deciding he doesn’t want to disturb his sleep, after all.

Instead, he presses the sole of his naked feet down on the relatively cool floor, and at last he stands up.

His entire body feels heavy and sore, full and empty at the same time; it’s the sort of pleasant ache that often follows when he and Bum spend several hours in bed together. He feels exhausted, but sated. He’s definitely going to feel it for the next few days – but it’s worth it.

Quietly he moves around the room, retrieving the clean clothes he needs. He grabs a white button-up shirt and black jeans; he rummages for a while inside the closet’s first drawer, until he finds a clean pair of boxers. In the semidarkness he has to check that they’re his and not Bum’s, but he doesn’t want to raise the blinds and risk waking his boyfriend up.

Finally, he puts his apron and a pair of comfortable tennis shoes inside the old backpack he often uses. He’s going to change into those once he gets to the bar.

Humming to himself, Sangwoo wipes the steam off the mirror with a clean towel. Bum sometimes pokes fun at some of his habits regarding cleanliness and order, but then he ends up agreeing with Sangwoo most of the time, and lets him do things his way.

Sangwoo puts down the towel. Catching a glimpse of his reflection, he stops for a moment, then he grins.

There’s a zig-zagging line of bruises around his neck, from his jaw along his throat and down to his collarbone, round, dark purplish spots that stand out against the light golden of his complexion.

On a closer inspection, his eyes trace the distinct lines of bite marks – harder to spot if one is not staring, but still visible. Other similar marks are all over his chest and abdomen, his hips, his legs: every place where Bum managed to get his mouth and teeth.

His back is sore, too, and not only because of the weariness in his muscles. Sangwoo turns around, inspecting his shoulder blades. There they are – long, thin parallel lines of an angry shade of red. The skin around is pink, and a bit swollen when he traces them with his hand.

Sangwoo huffs, shaking his head. He’s going to have to button his shirt all the way up, and be careful when he moves. He’s lucky that working as a bartender doesn’t require him to show off his skin, at least not unless there’s some special event.

He’ll have to apply some lotion later when he gets home. Maybe he’ll ask Bum to help him – it’s only fair, he smiles to himself – but right now he’s in a bit of a hurry.

He picks up the comb from the counter and runs it through his damp curls, trying to disentangle them. He glances at the time on his phone – shit, no time to waste with hair gel and his usual routine, either. With an annoyed sigh, he gives up after managing to tame his hair back into a shape that is at least acceptable.

He runs his fingers through the front. The fringe is growing too long, and he’ll need to dye it again in a week or two; the shaved sides are also starting to grow back.

He lets go of the strands, bowing down to grab his shirt.

“Hey.”

Sangwoo looks up, his fingers still hovering one of the buttons.

Bum is standing in the doorway, leaning on the wooden frame with one hip and one arm.

His legs and feet are bare; he’s wearing Sangwoo’s light grey t-shirt, the one he’s been sleeping in lately. The hem falls a little above his knees, and the loose neckline hangs low, revealing his left shoulder.

Bum blinks in the warm, artificial light of the bathroom. He rubs one hand over his eyes, still a little red-rimmed and heavy with sleepiness.

“You’re leaving already?”

Sangwoo walks up to him, his shirt still only halfway buttoned.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, cupping Bum’s cheek in one hand. “It’s seven thirty. My shift begins at eight tonight.” He leans down to press a kiss on the top of Bum’s head. Bum’s hair is still at least as messy as his own, with several tufts sticking up in different directions.

Bum rests his hands on Sangwoo’s shoulders, sliding his palms over the smooth, freshly-washed fabric.

“You smell good,” he mumbles, muffled by Sangwoo’s body. “Would you like me to cook you something for dinner?”

Sangwoo distractedly plays with Bum’s hair, allowing himself to momentarily pretend that he’s not supposed to dart out of the house as soon as he can.

“That would be great, honey. Thanks.” Bum snuggles against his chest and Sangwoo wraps his arms around him. “But I’m gonna come home late, at three or four. You don’t need to wait for me.”

Bum hums. “Ok… but I’ll try to stay awake. Maybe watch some TV.”

He steps back and hides another yawn behind the back of his hand. “There’s some homework I need to catch up with, too…”

Sangwoo pats his head. “You should take some rest. It’s your day off.”

Reluctantly, he takes a step back and gestures to finish buttoning up his shirt. Bum glances at him.

“Wait, let me help.”

He gently pushes Sangwoo’s hands out of the way and resolutely steps in. Sangwoo lets his arms drop at his sides, happy to allow his boyfriend to spoil him some more.

Bum’s brows furrow in concentration, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth. When his slender, dexterous fingers graze Sangwoo’s chest, small sparks of heat seem to explode on Sangwoo’s skin. Despite the complete innocence of that brief contact, Sangwoo needs a moment to fight off a sudden, extremely vivid flash of very non-innocent images.

He feels himself blushing.

Bum’s eyes are attentive now, scanning Sangwoo’s figure from head to toe with a little smile that is decidedly appreciative. His fingertips stop, lingering on the thin portion of Sangwoo’s chest that is still left uncovered between the two strips of fabric. He traces one of the bruises with his index and a small puff escapes Sangwoo’s lips.

Bum steps back, regarding his work with a pleased look.

Sangwoo looks down at Bum with a smirk.

“You did a number on me, you know?”

He hooks one finger onto his collar and pulls it down, enough to show Bum one of the hickeys on his neck. “You marked me. Not even this shirt is going to cover all of them up.”

Bum nibbles on his lower lip, still staring at Sangwoo. He doesn’t look the least bit sorry.

“People are going to notice,” Sangwoo continues, in a low, playfully reprimanding tone. “They’re going to see your bite marks and they’re going to imagine them all over me, and they’ll know what we’ve been doing for the whole afternoon…”

Bum’s smile widens now. He tilts his head to a side.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. He wraps his thin arms around Sangwoo’s upper body and stands on his tiptoes. He pulls Sangwoo down to leave a quick kiss on his lips.

“You’re not the only one who’s jealous, you know?” Bum licks his lip. He looks so kissable that Sangwoo has never resented having to go to work more than right now.

“I want everyone to know that Sangwoo is mine,” Bum whispers.

Sangwoo chuckles at that, while a delicious shiver of pleasure shoots down his spine.

He reaches for one of Bum’s hand, interlacing their finger for a brief moment. He holds it up to his face and kisses Bum’s knuckles.

“Of course I’m yours,” he murmurs. “And no one else’s. Never.”

They look quietly at each other. Sangwoo strokes Bum’s thumb with his own.

The mechanical noise of an incoming message’s notification on Sangwoo’s phone is loud and jarring in the silent room.

Groaning, Sangwoo reluctantly lets go of Bum’s hand to grab the phone and look at the display.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “It’s my boss. They’re opening the bar early and he’s asking me to get there as soon as I can. I’m sorry, babe.”

Bum shakes his head.

“It’s fine. Go, now, or you’ll be late and you’ll get an earful.”

Sangwoo slides his phone inside his pocket and leans down to kiss Bum’s lips again.

The aftertaste still lingers on his mouth after he pulls away, leaving a warm, prickling feeling.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a nice evening.”

Bum nods dutifully, smiling in Sangwoo’s shirt, so oversized for his body that he swims in it. It looks a lot cuter on Bum anyway, Sangwoo decides.

Bum waves at him, then gently pushes him towards the door.

“You too. Be careful on the way back!”

Bum steps aside to let him pass, and Sangwoo exits the room.

The tender smile doesn’t leave his lips as he finishes to get ready. His chest feels warm.

The pulsing and stinging sensation all over his body is nearly pleasant, heavy but comforting like an embrace. He’ll think about those marks for the whole night while he’s behind the counter, taking orders and making drinks and serving customers. They’ll be his secret, hidden under the immaculate white of his shirt, so close to other people’s eyes but reserved for Bum’s only.

He’ll think about those scratches and bruises to get through the night, he’ll think about his lovely boyfriend waiting for him at home.

Until he can come back to him.

Chapter Text

The door slams shut just as Bum is slipping out of his sneakers.

“Bum.”

Sangwoo’s voices booms like thunder in the corridor.

Bum’s attention is immediately alerted, all his senses amplified.

He diligently picks up his shoes and finishes stacking them against the wall, before slowly rising to his feet, to meet his boyfriend’s gaze.

Sangwoo is standing with his back facing the entrance, arms crossed on his chest. He’s wearing that tight light grey t-shirt that Bum got him for his last birthday; Bum can’t help but notice, even right now, how well it fits around his chest, his broad shoulders, the strong muscles in his arms. He looks so good.

Sangwoo’s face is blank. Unreadable.

The intensity of his eyes makes Bum’s skin tingle. Bum stands there, in his black V-neck shirt and washed out blue jeans, waiting, rubbing one foot against the other.

Sangwoo steps towards him. He extends one arm, hooking one finger and gesturing at Bum.

“Bum,” Sangwoo repeats. “Come here.”

With just that – with the rest of the world locked outside the door and those simple words – something in the space between them changes. The air becomes heavy, crackling like before a storm.

Bum’s body seems to move of its own accord. Step by step, one foot in front of the other moving almost noiselessly on the wooden tiles, he approaches.

He stops in front of Sangwoo, with his eyes cast down.

Sangwoo lays one of his big, warm hands on Bum’s left shoulder. The contact makes him flinch. No point in trying to move away now, though, it’s already too late for that.

“Give me a color, love.”

It’s the use of that sort of sweet pet name, at a moment like this, that really makes Bum’s heart flutter. He tries not to smile.

“Green,” he answers, plainly, readily, without a moment of hesitation.

He’s been waiting for this, wanting this, anticipating it all night. He couldn’t be feeling more green than this.

“Good.”

The hand on his shoulder clasps him a little more tightly, just for a moment, squeezing him under the shirt. It glides up along the side of Bum’s neck, coming to rest on his nape.

With his other hand, Sangwoo grabs Bum by his forearm and abruptly pulls him closer.

Sangwoo’s voice turns more gentle, but still inquisitive:

“Don’t you have anything to tell me, Bum?”

Once again, this time like every other, Bum can’t help but be amazed at how seemingly effortlessly Sangwoo slips into the role he’s playing. He can only hope Sangwoo is going to enjoy how he plays his counterpart, as much as Bum does.

Bum clenches his fists, then unclenches them. If he bites his lip now, like he often does, Sangwoo will probably reprimand him for it.

It’s unbelievable, he thinks, how the simple contact of Sangwoo’s hand on his skin can still set his nerves on fire. Even after so many times, after so many years.

He doesn’t raise his eyes. He doesn’t attempt to smile, or soften Sangwoo with sweet, coy whispered words. It wouldn’t work right now, it’s not what Sangwoo is going for.

“I… I don’t know, Sangwoo,” he murmurs, meekly.

“You don’t?”

Bum guesses the way Sangwoo is raising his eyebrows; he senses the calm but cold disbelief conveyed by his tone.

Sangwoo’s fingers close around his arm, clenching his skin like a trap and causing Bum to emit a small, surprised gasp.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve done it again, babe.”

Absent-mindedly, Sangwoo plays with some strands of Bum’s hair, rolling them around his fingers; something like an owner scratching a beloved but unruly dog behind its ears.

“You were flirting with Dongyu all evening, at the bar. He was all over you, and you let him.”

Bum makes a weak, half-assed attempt at pulling away.

“It’s not true… come on… let’s just go to bed, Sangwoo…”

Sangwoo doesn’t smirk, doesn’t loosen his grip. He leans down and presses his forehead against Bum’s.

“He was petting your hair and he kept touching your shoulder while you were sitting next to him. You let him pick you up in his arms. The two of you looked like you were having such a good time, hm? You even played arm wrestling with him and he let you win…”

Sangwoo shakes Bum, just a little. It’s a sharp contrast with the patient, almost deliberately calm way he’s speaking.

I’m not truly angry, Bum. Just… disappointed.

All of a sudden, Bum feels very small.

“Dongyu seems to like you quite a lot, don’t you think?” Sangwoo continues, almost musing. “I bet he was getting hard just from sitting so close to you in the booth… with your smell and those pretty legs of yours in those tight jeans. It’s no wonder he can’t help himself.”

Sangwoo’s hands slide down, grasping Bum’s hips.

“I know you can’t help it either, honey. You need the attention… that’s why you need to go around dressed like a slut, teasing other people. You want to feel how much they want you. You want to know how much they’re thinking about bending you over a table, or dragging you inside the restroom to fuck your pretty ass…” Pause. “… Isn’t that the truth, Bum?”

Bum’s mouth is dry now.

He’s burning. An acute, gut-wrenching want explodes under his skin, throughout his whole body.

He’s been expecting this, wanting this.

He’s been on edge for the whole night, barely restraining himself from going to Sangwoo, sitting in his lap and kissing him breathlessly. More than once, he found himself thinking about dragging Sangwoo to a corner and tearing his clothes off, without caring about who could see.

After two busy weeks where they’ve both barely seen, let alone touched each other, his frustration has been slowly making him lose his mind.

But Sangwoo made him a promise. A gift. For Bum, for both of them.

Later, Bum. When we get home.

This particular scene, Bum knows, isn’t an easy one for Sangwoo. Sangwoo doesn’t like being jealous. He doesn’t like the feeling, and he doesn’t like the most showy, possessive displays of it.

But for him, he agreed to act it out. Because he knows how much Bum needs all of this, sometimes: to feel wanted, to feel claimed, and the relief that it brings him. And Bum knows that Sangwoo relishes in being the only one who can give him what he craves.

So, for the whole night, Bum stuck to their arrangement and tried to stay on his best behavior… or rather, his worst.

All night, he kept away from Sangwoo, pointedly pretending to ignore him while instead he chatted and flirted with their friends. He felt the tension building up, hour after hour, while he kept making sure that Sangwoo’s eyes were fixed on him.

Now, to finally hear the words come out of Sangwoo’s mouth… to have the scene materialize around them… Bum’s knees feel weak.

Sangwoo grips the front of Bum’s jeans with his hand, roughly pressing his palm against Bum’s crotch.

Bum weakly shakes his head, whining:

“Sangwoo, I didn’t do anything, I swear…!”

Sangwoo grabs both of his wrists and abruptly pins him to one of the walls.

He’s immediately onto him again, mouthing at Bum’s neck, licking and sucking his skin between his teeth.

“Don’t be like this, babe,” he breaths heavily on Bum’s skin. “You know I don’t really want to do any of this. You’re the one who’s leaving me no choice… you understand that, right?”

He leaves small kisses along the curve of Bum’s neck, and with each one he keeps massaging Bum’s cock through the denim.

“You’ve been very, very mean to me, baby. And now I have to teach you a lesson.”

“I… ah!”

Bum whimpers when Sangwoo pushes him harder against the wall, hands on his hips and slipping one thigh between Bum’s legs.

Sangwoo pulls up Bum’s shirt, yanking it with rough movements. All the better if he tears it, Bum thinks wildly.

Sangwoo catches one of his nipples between two fingers and starts torturing it mercilessly; he tweaks it, rolling it between thumb and index, pinching the tip and giving it small rubs and strokes.

He goes straight for a small but stinging pain, rather than gentle teasing; Bum closes his eyes and pants, quickly melting into Sangwoo’s touch.

“Is this what you wanted? Were you thinking about Dongyu touching you like this?” Sangwoo hisses.

“It’s… it’s not true!”

One sharp pull on the other nipple makes Bum’s cock twitch; he meowls, grabbing Sangwoo’s wrist. “I don’t want anyone else but you… ah… you know it…!”

“Liar,” Sangwoo cuts him short. Putting his hands on Bum’s shoulders, he roughly pulls him into a forceful kiss.

He presses his lips hard against Bum’s own, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. He chases Bum’s tongue, prying his mouth open, and it’s as if a switch has been lifted: Bum kisses him back just as hard, panting into his mouth. Bum bites him, soft lips and hot spit and sharp teeth.

Reflexively, he wraps his arms around Sangwoo’s back, and lifts one leg to hook it around Sangwoo’s waist.

Sangwoo lifts him up with a low growl. He cups Bum’s face in both hands and they pull away for a few seconds, only to start kissing again, hungrily, messily, not caring that they’re both out of breath. Bum licks Sangwoo’s lower lip. Moaning, he ruts his hips against Sangwoo’s body, clenching his thighs more tightly around him.

A low, choked out noise trembles in Sangwoo’s throat.

Panting, Sangwoo abruptly rips him away.

Bum opens his eyes, lips still parted. His chest is still heaving.

“No, no, baby, I don’t think so,” Sangwoo chastises him, shaking his head, voice hoarse. His tone is different now, almost playful, indulgent as if speaking to a misbehaving child.

“You’re enjoying yourself way too much.”

Suddenly, Bum gasps again as he finds himself being spun around and then shoved face-first against the wall.

Sangwoo positions himself behind him.

“Pants down, now,” he instructs. He’s once again impassive and ice-cold. The shift is too quick to leave Bum the time to adjust, to predict what is going to happen. “And put your hands on the wall.”

Bum shivers, his hairs standing on end. He feels Sangwoo’s closeness, the overwhelming strength radiating from his body, familiar but still intoxicating, every single time.

“Sangwoo, you’re not going to—”

“If I have to repeat myself one more time, you’re going to regret it.”

Sangwoo’s breath caresses his nape. Bum twitches. Heat spreads on his face; he struggles not to rub his legs together, his dick getting hard and heavier between his thighs.

Sangwoo palms his ass, patting his right cheek.

“Do you want me to get the whip? Or the cane?”

Yes. Yes, I want you to, please.

But Bum stops himself before he blurts it out, because Sangwoo might do the opposite of anything he says, just to torture him some more.

His wrists and his fingers are trembling as he fumbles with the zipper. Slowly, carefully, he lets his jeans drop down to his ankles.

Counting his breaths, Bum lays the palms of his hands flat against the wall.

“Good boy,” Sangwoo praises. Bum bites his lip, hiding his face from him. His cheeks are burning.

“Spread your legs some more. And stick your ass out.”

Sangwoo’s commands only make his arousal stronger, his body more pliant, filling him with the urge to make himself smaller, to beg him more desperately.  

Bum obeys. It’s hard to keep his balance, his legs are shaking so hard that his knees might give way at any moment.

Sangwoo slips two fingers under Bum’s black cotton briefs, pushing them aside to expose his bare ass. He grips his cheeks tightly, kneading, squeezing. He hums, pleased, and softly pats Bum’s ass one more time, before stepping back.

There’s a rustling sound, the soft noise of fabric sliding against fabric; then the sharp sound of leather cutting the air, as Sangwoo takes off his belt and folds it in two, trying it out in the empty space near Bum’s hip.

Bum recoils, lightly, heart jumping into his throat.

With a startling crack, Sangwoo snaps the belt, once, against the palm of his own hand.

“This,” he says aloud. “This is what you made me do, baby.”

Sangwoo draws closer, again. His mouth is so close to Bum’s nape that it could be a kiss –  but he doesn’t kiss him, not now.

He yanks down Bum’s panties, almost causing him to lose his balance. But Sangwoo’s strong, steady body is caging him, and there’s nowhere for him to fall.

Sangwoo’s hand slips between his legs. From behind, he presses the folded belt against Bum’s ass, sliding it against the curve of his ass and between his thighs, nearly tickling his cock with it.

Sangwoo makes him feel it, the instrument of his punishment, makes him savor it.

“I am going to hit you ten times,” Sangwoo says, calmly.

“Sangwoo, I beg you, I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear…!” Bum’s voice becomes broken, shrill, frantic.

Sangwoo drags his teeth along Bum’s nape. “Keep lying to me, and I'll make it twenty.”

He leaves a long, wet kiss at the base of his neck, just over the collar of Bum’s shirt.

Heat melts in Bum’s belly.

He wants to turn around and kiss this man and tell him how much he loves him. He wants to tell him how grateful he is for this, for all these things that Sangwoo does for him.

With one hand, Sangwoo grips Bum’s left hip.  

Bum closes his eyes, palms pressed hard against the wall.

With a wheezing sound, the belt rises again.

“Now,” Sangwoo says, calmly, “start counting.”

Chapter Text

“You know… you look really, really good like this.”

The young black-haired man smiles sweetly, admiring his handiwork. He’s sitting on his heels at the end of the bed, near Sangwoo’s feet.

Sangwoo tugs on the pair of handcuffs chaining both his wrists to the bedpost. He uses his full force, but it’s no use; the metal stays firmly in place, only biting deeper into his flesh. His ankles are also shackled, keeping his legs spread, his naked body entirely on display. His clothes were taken away while he was unconscious, even his underwear.

He feels so desperately naked, so… helpless. Right now, even his muscles and his superior strength can do nothing to help him.

The man named Yoon Bum keeps smiling, head tilted to a side like a curious cat. Sangwoo knows his name, because the man told him; other than that, he has never spoken more than a few words to this classmate of his that has now broken into his house, knocked him out, and had him wake up tied to his own bed.

“I should take some pictures,” Yoon Bum adds pensively. He nibbles on his right thumb, long lashes shadowing deep black eyes. He could be good-looking – not the type that makes every head turn, maybe, but certainly interesting –  if it weren’t for what he has done to him… for what he’s about to do.

“Would you like to see pictures of yourself, Sangwoo?” the intruder addresses him, suddenly turning to stare straight into Sangwoo’s eyes.

“All tied up and at my mercy? Begging with tears running down your face, all exposed for everyone to see, and so dirty… Imagine if all your friends saw you like that. What would they think…? Oh Sangwoo’s spotless reputation would be defiled forever.”

His smirk is cruel now, rows of tiny, pearly white teeth peeking out from under soft-looking, shapely lips.

“Yeah. I think crying will look very good on you, too…”

Sangwoo shakes his restraints again, making inarticulate sounds behind the leather gag that is stuck between his lips, pressed against his tongue.

Bum pats his forehead with the palm of his head and chuckles softly to himself, shaking his head.

“Ah! I was forgetting. You can’t really do much talking right now, can you?”

He looks away, ignoring Sangwoo’s feeble protests. He hooks his thumbs onto the waistband of the black briefs he’s still wearing, and slips out of them; without those, he’s now just completely undressed, just like Sangwoo.

The stranger’s body is slim, bony, even frail-looking; thin arms and legs, sharp hips. If Sangwoo could move, it would take him less than a second to subdue him; Sangwoo can and has taken down opponents stronger than himself, let alone this skinny, harmless-looking boy. But right now, as it is, the physical disparity between them is completely irrelevant.

The intruder palms around the mattress for a while, rummaging with some things outside of Sangwoo’s field of vision. Finally, he picks up a bottle of lube, and… a condom.

Humming quietly, his classmate starts touching himself. It’s almost as if he’s completely alone in his own house, as if Sangwoo isn’t even there.

Sangwoo hears the small, wet sounds as the smaller man jerks off, fingers coated in lubricant sliding over his cock. Yoon Bum is still squatting on the mattress, thin brows furrowed in concentration. The fact that this is Sangwoo’s bed, Sangwoo’s room, somehow makes the violation worse. Not even here he is safe; he’s no longer in control of what happens in this space that is supposed to belong to him…

Sangwoo knows what is going to happen. He’s not stupid, he’s known since he found himself naked under the feverish, unreadable gaze of this man. There’s no mistaking what Yoon Bum’s intentions are. And Sangwoo can’t fight it. He can’t escape it… there is nothing else he can do but let it happen.

Yoon Bum already told him what will happen if he tries to put up a fight.

“I will bring a bat to your pretty head, Oh Sangwoo, and I’ll paint the walls of this room with your brains. But only after I fucked you bloody until you’ll be begging me to kill you.”

Sangwoo shudders when he hears the plastic packaging being ripped.

Bum rolls out the condom.

Then he looks up at Sangwoo again, beams brightly, and starts slowly crawling towards him on his hands and knees.

Sangwoo lets his head fall heavily down on the pillow, frantically trying to keep still. His heartbeat bangs against his ribcage. He desperately wants his body to relax. He’d do anything to make this easier, quicker, to find a way to make Yoon Bum have mercy; but his muscles are tightly clenched, and despite the pleasant warmth in the room, he can’t help but shiver.

Yoon Bum climbs on top of him and straddles his hips, lining up his pelvis with Sangwoo’s crotch.

The contact of skin against skin takes Sangwoo by surprise, despite having expected it; he flinches, moaning into the gag.

Bum reaches down, gently caressing the right side of Sangwoo’s face with the back of his hand.

“Shh,” he murmurs, soothingly. He presses two fingers against the gag. “No need to be scared, Sangwoo. I’ve been wanting you for such a long time… always admiring you from afar. It’s not fair, you know? Seeing you every day, without being able to touch you, and knowing that I could make you so happy. I’ve dreamt countless times of doing this with you, you know. In so many different ways…”

While he speaks, Bum starts stroking himself again, with broad, sloppy motions, purposefully making sure that Sangwoo can watch closely as he does it. He wraps his small fist around his dick, squeezing, pumping. With each stroke, his dick hardens, the skin becoming more flushed; Bum’s pace fastens, and he starts swaying his hips, throwing his head back and breathing heavily.

It’s raw, wild, a spectacle for Sangwoo’s eyes. The wet smacking sounds of Bum’s fist around his cock get louder.

Sangwoo stares.

“I… ah…” Yoon Bum licks his lips, catching his breath. “You’re so beautiful, Sangwoo. You’re perfect. And… ah… you’re going to be mine. We are made for each other. I’m going to show you… how much… I love you. And in the end, I know…”

He stills, dropping his arm. His cock stands fully erected, dark and heavy, against his flat belly.

“… I know that you’re going to love me too.”

His admirer grins, saliva glistening at a corner of his mouth.

He leans down, pressing his chest against Sangwoo’s stomach. He rolls his hips, softly, once, rubbing himself against Sangwoo.

“Now, there’s two ways we can do this, love,” he says, slowly. “You can fight me, and I can make this very, very painful for you. I can tear you apart and make you bleed, and by the time I’m done, you will be begging for me to end your life.” Bum leaves another gentle caress along the side of Sangwoo’s face, from his temple to his jaw.

“Or, I can be gentle to you. I can let you take your time, and make you feel so good. I can make you like it so much, Sangwoo. I know what you like. I’m the only one who can please you.”

He runs one hand over Sangwoo’s chest, gliding his fingertips down his ribs, lightly scratching parallel lines across his abdomen. Sangwoo’s chest rises up and down, following the quick pace of his heart.

His admirer leans down, pressing a soft, close-mouthed kiss on Sangwoo’s forehead.

“So, which one’s it gonna be?” His face is so close. His thick, smooth black hair tickles Sangwoo’s cheek. “Are you going to be good for me, Sangwoo?”

Sangwoo shuts his eyelids, then opens them again. He can’t disappear, after all. And his captor is still waiting for an answer.

Quiet behind the gag, he finally nods his head up and down twice.

“Good boy,” Yoon Bum praises him, pleased. He presses his mouth against the gag that’s parting Sangwoo’s lips – the mockery of a kiss.

He slips down, dragging his hands along Sangwoo’s lower abdomen. His short fingernails leave thin, light scratches on Sangwoo’s skin.

He scoots down between Sangwoo’s open legs. He grabs one of his thighs, squeezing it with both hands. He noses at the inner part, greedily breathing in.  

“Mm,” Bum mumbles. He opens his mouth, licks long stripes down the thigh and calf. His tongue is hot and soft and wet. He bares his teeth, gently nibbling at a tender spot on Sangwoo’s thigh just below his pelvis.

Sangwoo winces, involuntarily flexing his leg.

His stalker glances at him.

“No kicking, Sangwoo,” he murmurs, giving his thigh a small pat. He tenderly strokes the skin with his palm after, as if to soothe him. “I’ve already had to tie you up. Don’t make me break your legs, too…”

Sangwoo goes still, quickly nodding, and Bum goes back to lavishing the other thigh with attention, sucking kisses and more bites into the skin there. It… it feels good; Bum’s wet mouth teases Sangwoo’s body, the small sting of his teeth is more playful than painful, despite Bum’s menacing words.

Against his will, Sangwoo feels the blood rush to his cock.

Bum moves upwards, sinking his hands on either of Sangwoo’s legs and spreading them even wider.

He grins.

“Oh, look at that…”

He leans closer. His hot breath tickles Sangwoo’s dick.

The stalker experimentally presses one finger against the base, giving it a small stroke, before sliding his fingertip down to Sangwoo’s ballsack, feeling the way Sangwoo’s balls harden and swell in response to his touch.

“Fuck, you’re so big, Sangwoo…”

The stalker continues touching him, sliding his finger up and down. He strokes around the tip, gives the head a small flick.

Mortified, Sangwoo feels his face grow hotter. His dick grows harder. He doesn’t want it to happen, he doesn’t, but he can’t stop it. Bum chuckles, wrapping one small, slender hand around the base.

“Your face’s all red, Sangwoo. How cute. Are you embarrassed?”

Bum ducks his head and slowly licks along the entire length of Sangwoo’s dick.

Sangwoo’s hips snap up of their own accord. He bites harder into the gag, desperately fighting to control his arousal, but there’s nothing he can do: Bum licks him again, and to his horror his penis only gets harder and more strained.

Sangwoo pants, trying to measure his breaths. The bit gag makes it hard.

He’s terrified of doing anything, because anything could result in punishment; would Bum bite him? He wouldn’t cut off his cock, maybe – he seems to love it too much – but what if he has other instruments, other painful torture devices to teach his beloved how to be obedient…?

Bum smiles, before stroking his cheek against Sangwoo’s cock.

“Your scent is so strong down here. I could get drunk off of it…”

Gently holding Sangwoo’s balls in his palm, he leaves another quick lick at the base. He grazes the flushed, thick skin with his teeth, barely scraping it.

Sangwoo rolls his hips, feet twitching, tensing his legs and his entire body. Pre-cum starts leaking from the slit, drops of the liquid smearing Bum’s face.

Bum keeps teasing him, lapping and licking at his dick from different spots, but never taking him into his mouth. Sangwoo wants to scream. He would beg, if he could.

Bum fervently presses his lips on the head of Sangwoo’s cock, and kisses it gently.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, again. “Don’t worry, Sangwoo. I’m going to give you what you need.”

He rises to a sitting position and takes the bottle of lube into one hand.

He pours a generous amount on his palm, all the while maintaining eye contact with his captive.

Warm fingers creep up the inside of Sangwoo’s left thigh. They’re humid and slippery; they circle his hole, slowly getting closer and closer, they delicately tease his entrance. One small fingertip pushes inside, past the tight ring of muscles; Sangwoo trembles, arching his lower back.

His stalker pushes his finger deeper, sinking it to his knuckle, slowly.

“Aahh…” Sangwoo’s spine twists, he lifts his hips, he uselessly clenches his fists in his restraints.

Bum moves his finger in slow circles. It doesn’t hurt, not quite, but it’s weird, and it stings, and it makes him feel so impossibly full already, despite the fact that the stalker’s hands are small and his fingers are slender and—

Bum pushes in another finger. Sangwoo bites hard into the gag. Bum starts scissoring his fingers, stretching him out. Sangwoo moans and blinks, tears pool at the corners of his eyes. Heat builds up in his lower belly.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, you’re alright,” Bum murmurs, laying a caress diagonally across Sangwoo’s chest. He pulls his fingers out and pushes them in again, ripping out more incoherent noises from Sangwoo. Saliva trickles down Sangwoo’s chin, and Bum leans over to lick it off his skin, lick his throat, mark Sangwoo’s neck and chest with more greedy kisses and bites.

He adds a third finger and Sangwoo is shaking. Pain and pleasure flame through his body.

He tries shaking his head, mumbling something behind the gag, his nape buried deep into the sweat-drenched pillow. Bum smiles, subtly twisting his fingertips. Sangwoo’s cock throbs and leaks some more, unattended.

Enough.

No. Please, more, more, don’t stop…

Sangwoo no longer knows what it is that he’s trying to convey. He closes his eyes, feeling the entirety of his body melt into his stalker’s touch.

Bum’s hand slips away with an obscene, wet sound.

His classmate kneels back between Sangwoo’s open legs.

“Well, since you’ve been so nice for me…”

Short fingernails lightly scratch Sangwoo’s skin as Bum’s small, swift hands maneuver his legs. He makes Sangwoo bend his knees, wordlessly instructs him to plant his heels into the mattress.

Sangwoo’s body no longer belongs to him. His will doesn’t matter, it no longer exists. He allows his stalker to rearrange his limbs as he pleases, and he knows that he still should have somewhere deep inside him a drive to protest, to fight him off; but he can’t. He can’t because he’s hard and he’s hot all over, and maybe Bum will be nicer to him if he’s good, won’t he, Sangwoo promised to be good…

Sangwoo watches as Bum gives his own cock a couple rough touches. He’s still hard, too.

He sinks his fingers into Sangwoo’s hips, lifting them up, and guides the head of his cock between Sangwoo’s thighs.

He just barely brushes him, at first, just lazily rubbing it up and down against Sangwoo’s hole. Sangwoo fights back the terrible urge to whine.

“You want it, Sangwoo?”

Bum grins, white teeth and black eyes shining.

Sangwoo just nods.

Bum moves his hips, dragging his cock up and down, loosely holding it in one hand. He rubs it against Sangwoo’s own, and Sangwoo feels the slippery texture of the lube-coated condom.

“Do you really want it? Hm?”

The head of Bum’s dick presses against Sangwoo’s hole.

Sangwoo sobs.

“Oh, don’t cry, now…” the stalker glances at Sangwoo. “… I haven’t even started yet.”

His hands steadily grip Sangwoo’s waist.

With a smooth snap of his hips, he pushes his dick nearly all the way in.

Sangwoo groans behind the gag, arching his back.  

The stalker thrusts once into him, digging his finger nails into the flesh of Sangwoo’s hips.

He stills again. He moves one hand up and down, affectionately caressing Sangwoo’s left thigh. Sangwoo tries to breathe, trying to adjust to the foreign sensation of pressure and fullness. The stalker’s fingers already felt like too much; now he’s so full that he’s going to rip. The other’s cock inside of him… it feels unbearably hot, even through the latex, like naked skin on his own. It pulses, spreading him.

His admirer smiles, kneading Sangwoo’s legs. He moves a little, sending small flares of sensation down Sangwoo’s spine. It hurts, a little, even after all the lube, but it’s a dull sort of ache.

“So tight,” Bum sighs happily, leaning down. He kisses Sangwoo’s neck.

“Could it be… that I’m your first, Sangwoo? That’s so cute.”

Suddenly he grasps Sangwoo’s right leg with both hands, lifting it up. The effort makes him grunt, but he positions himself at a different angle, and thrusts into Sangwoo again.

Sangwoo moans. It feels different than before, the fullness a bit easier to bear. His admirer keeps holding onto his leg and sways his hips back and forth, fast at first; quick, sharp hits that suck Sangwoo’s breath away from his lungs.

Bum’s other hand wanders back on Sangwoo’s penis, palming him. Sangwoo helplessly shakes his head, but Bum closes his fist around the base, and starts dragging it up and down.

Another kiss on Sangwoo’s neck. Lean fingers gliding around his dick, getting quickly covered in Sangwoo’s pre-cum.

Bum pulls his cock almost all the way out, causing Sangwoo to momentarily breathe a sigh of relief.

He pushes it back in again, fast and rough.

Sangwoo growls like a wounded animal. Little shivers of pleasure shoot through his body. No. No…

But his cock bounces in the stalker’s hand with every thrust, arousal and the desire for relief building up in Sangwoo’s belly like a tightly wound spring.

“F-fuck,” his admirer hisses, eyes half closed. “Y-you… you feel amazing, Sangwoo. It’s j-just like I thought…”

The stalker keeps switching his rhythm. As soon as Sangwoo feels his climax get closer, the other man slows down to an almost non-existent pace, softly rolling his hips and rubbing his balls against Sangwoo’s tortured hole.

Sangwoo drops his head on the pillow, making little throaty noises that he can no longer hold back. His body bounces the mattress with every thrust.

He whines, this time. He doesn’t try to stop himself anymore.

More tears roll down his cheeks. He’s burning with shame and maddening arousal, and this torture is going to last forever, he’ll never be free, this crazy fucker will never let him go…

His admirer kisses Sangwoo’s left eyebrow. His mouth slides further down, along Sangwoo’s wet cheeks.

He licks the salty stripes left by Sangwoo’s tears, then lavishes those spots, too, with tender kisses.

He picks up a faster pace, again imperceptibly adjusting his angle so that his cock can hit, every time, with deadly precision, that spot inside Sangwoo that makes his toes curl and his entire body ache with acute pleasure.

He keeps kneading and pumping onto Sangwoo’s cock, too, and the combination is too much, he’s going crazy, he can’t take it…

“You’re… ngh… so pretty like this,” the stalker hisses. “Mine. You’re… ah… mine…!”

He tenses, suddenly, planting his bony knees harder into the mattress.

Sangwoo sees the way his knuckles whiten, and the stalker’s mouth goes slack. His body tenses for a moment – then he slumps his shoulders, and Sangwoo feels the warmth of his semen spilling, filling the latex barrier of the condom. It’s somehow more intimate, more obscene, than if he was shooting his load directly into Sangwoo’s hole.

Sangwoo wonders, with a hot, stinging shiver – if his admirer will keep that condom, later, as some sort of macabre souvenir.

Bum doesn’t pull out. Not yet.

He keeps rubbing Sangwoo’s cock, wildly, with fast, rough motions.

“Come on, Sangwoo,” his classmate whispers, with feverish, religious devotion. Bum pants, nails digging in Sangwoo’s skin, still. One hand gripping the base of Sangwoo’s dick, the other holding onto his left hip so tightly it will probably bruise.

His hand closes around the head of Sangwoo’s cock, gently squeezing it against his palm.

“Come for me, love,” he orders, and that’s all Sangwoo needs.

When he removes his hand, Sangwoo gasps, and he thrusts his hips forward wildly against Bum, and long, thick stripes of cum finally shoot from his cock.

They land on Sangwoo’s stomach, on Bum’s wrists and some on his belly, and some more on the mattress.

Sangwoo keeps coming, trembling hard, and he keeps trembling, riding the last wave of his climax, even after his cock has been milked dry.

Sangwoo falls back heavily, his chest heaving, still gasping for air.

He vaguely feels Bum’s own penis, now flaccid, carefully sliding out of him.

“Gorgeous. Simply gorgeous,” the stalker murmurs, somewhere above him. A small hand caresses his face.

“You really are a masterpiece, Sangwoo.”

Sangwoo closes his eyes.

It’s two days later, early in the morning. Bum is standing in the kitchen, ready for class, wearing a plain long-sleeved black shirt and baggy jeans.

He’s leaning over the square wooden table with his upper body, elbows planted on the smooth surface, ignoring his cup of tea in favor of scrolling over the screen of his phone with his index.

Sangwoo sneaks up on him from behind. He takes advantage of Bum’s momentarily distracted state to wrap his arms around the other’s waist and nuzzle his nose against Bum’s cheek.

“Mm,” Bum hums, still focused on the screen; but he relaxes into Sangwoo’s touch when Sangwoo’s hands slide down his hips.

Sangwoo chuckles under his breath and picks a strand of Bum’s black hair between two fingers, tucking it back behind Bum’s right ear.

He leans closer.

“You were right, by the way,” he says, dragging his lips against Bum’s nape. He wishes they had more time, but Bum’s class starts in half an hour. Sangwoo suppresses the urge to lick or bite.

He hugs Bum tighter. Bum lets go of the phone, abandoning it on the table.

“I’ve seen the pictures,” Sangwoo says, casually, lowering his voice. “I look very, very pretty.”

Chapter Text

“We were just doing shots together…”

An electro-pop song blares from the speakers situated on different spots above their heads.

The bass line bangs rhythmically through the floor under their feet. The vibration shoots under their skin, it pumps like blood through their veins.

Jieun throws her head back, exposing the pale column of her slender neck. Waves of her dark hair cut through the air like a whip, catching the silver and purple reflections of neon lights.

Her loud laugh is swallowed by the background noise. Jieun wraps her hand around Bum’s wrist and pulls him along, starting to make her way through the crowd of sweaty bodies tightly pressed together.

“Let’s go!” she shouts, or at least that’s what Bum can guess from the movement of her bubblegum pink-colored lips. She points a thin finger towards the bar, a few meters away.

Bum nods, mouthing “Ok!”, but she’s already turned away, determinedly striding towards their destination.

He follows.

Multicolored lights cut through the hot, saturated air, coloring their bodies with green, red, yellow and silver.

With one arm loosely wrapped around Bum’s shoulders, Jieun leans dangerously close to him.

“Come on! Another!”

Bum beams, hugging her back.

“… We just did three shots in a row!”

She giggles. Her soft, dark brown hair tickles the shell of Bum’s right ear. They are sitting at one of the tall metal tables, in a corner not too far from the bar’s counter; they somehow managed to snatch that vacant spot from another group of people that was approaching, and claimed it for themselves.

It’s just the two of them, right now, the rest of the group scattered somewhere else in the club. Some are probably on the dancefloor, a couple others must be still sitting in the same booth they entered at the beginning of the night.

Jieun moves her stool to scoot closer. At this point, her movements are a bit slower, a bit sloppier than usual.

“You’re no fun,” she pouts, planting a small hand on Bum’s chest and jokingly giving him a little shove.

She pushes her long legs down and jumps off the stool.

“I’ll be right back!”

Bum shrugs and nods, giving up trying to stop her. He rests his chin on one hand and leans with his elbows on the cold surface of the table. His eyes follow the soft swaying of her hips as she goes.

Bum’s eyes are half closed as he downs another shot. The taste of alcohol, mixed with the cool of mint-flavored vodka, burns on his tongue.

He puts the glass down. Jieun, sitting in his lap, presses her forehead against his and she chuckles under her breath: it’s a warm, rich sound. Her breath, too, tastes like alcohol.

Bum lazily nudges her cheek with the tip of his nose, running his hands down her thighs, at either side of his legs. Her white mini skirt, already vertiginously short, has ridden even higher up her legs, uncovering centimeters of smooth, warm skin.

Bum keeps massaging her with his palms, lazily tracing circles with the pads of his fingers. Jieun leans forward, clinging to his neck, and makes an appreciative sound. She rests her chin on the curve between his neck and left shoulder.

“Will you massage my back, Bumi?” Jieun whispers into his ear. Her tone is mischievous like that of a child who has found a way to steal a treat and get away with it.  

Bum’s face heats up at the nickname. Obediently, he lets his hands run from her shoulder blades to the small of her back, finding more silky skin where the hem of her pastel pink crop top ends.

“Mm.” Jieun holds on tighter onto him. The swell of her full breasts presses against his chest.

Bum pets the back of her head, scratching and running his fingers through her sweat-damp hair. Usually she would scold him for messing up her carefully ironed curls – but not now.

Impulsively, Bum pulls her closer, gripping her hips.

Jieun huffs, a half-amused, half-pleased sound. She knits her eyebrows, pretending to be surprised.

“… Naughty boy. What are you up to…”

Bum’s hands return to her legs. He runs his fingers in parallel lines from her knees to the top of her thighs, pushing his fingertips beneath her skirt. She holds her breath this time, and falls quiet.

Slowly but surely, he slips one hand between her thighs. Her big eyes are now glued to what he’s doing, and even though the fluorescent lights make it hard to tell, he’s pretty sure that she is blushing.

He hooks one finger under the miniskirt, and pushes it up even more. Jieun’s hands squeeze his shoulders frantically for a moment, before releasing him; but she doesn’t attempt to stop him, even though anyone around could see, if they were to take a closer look.

Her exposed panties are nothing fancy, not the type of delicate, expensive lingerie she buys sometimes. Nothing silky, with frilly lacy hems, dramatic colors or complicated patterns: instead, it’s just an ordinary pair of white cotton slips, with darker horizontal stripes that might be pink or violet.

Somehow, they look more obscene and enticing than if they were lingerie.

Under the thin fabric, Bum’s hand finds the tender curve of her mound, and lower still, the wet heat of her pussy. He presses his whole palm against her crotch first, silently, concentrated on applying just the right amount of pressure. She is drenched. Her thighs are covered in sweat, glued to his own legs; and right there, under that outrageously cute and innocent pair of underwear, Jieun is desperately wet.

Bum slides his index and middle finger along the outline of her pussy, dragging his fingertips over the shape of her labia. He pushes one finger deeper, sensing through the cotton the wet patch where her hole is.

Jieun whimpers, squeezing his shoulders again.

She rolls her hips and her ass back and forth on his lap, demandingly pushing herself harder against his hand.

Bum smiles, caught between the equally tempting urges of pushing her panties to a side and just give her what she wants, right there, in a room full of people that might catch them at any moment, and instead pulling his hand away and leaving her like that.

He closes his eyes, entertaining himself with the thought, creating the image inside his mind.

He’s pretty sure he could make her come very quickly. He could make it look like he’s hugging her tightly while he fingers her, with her raspy breaths like a pretty melody in his ears.

But doing something like that… it would be against the rules they have set for tonight.

Just kissing. Groping and touching is allowed, but no coming – for either of them.

Bum sighs, biting his tongue. He keeps caressing her slowly, barely touching her with just the tip of his fingers. Jieun’s breaths quicken, sounding more and more like sobs. It’s electrifying.

He tips her chin with one finger, making her look at him.

Jieun glares at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, gently. “You know we can’t do that. Not here.”

He takes a deep breath. He knows fully well he was the one to initiate it, but he can’t say he regrets it.

“Let’s cool down a little, okay…?”

Finally, he removes his hand.

Jieun is panting, her chest quickly rising up and down.

“Fuck…” she groans.

She slumps against him, limbs and body limp, heavy, as if she’s liquefied.

“You’re good at this,” she sighs, and there’s nothing casual or accidental about the way she curls her tongue along the shell of his ear, or the way she drags her perfect teeth over his lobe.

Bum swallows.

“So cute and yet so mean,” she murmurs, cupping his face in his hands. Her carefully-manicured nails are oval-shaped, sharp against his skin as she pushes his fringe back, keeping it there for a few seconds, as if she’s studying a new hairstyle. She has told him before that he’d look good with gel in his hair, like Sangwoo, but he never let her try.

She’s gotten closer again now. The scent of her skin, the strong mixture of her sweat and the sugary candy-flavored perfume she uses, fills his lungs and his throat. His head feels light. Jieun’s hands slide on his shoulders, nails digging into his white t-shirt.

The tip of her nose brushes against his own. Bum closes his eyes and forgets how to breathe.

Her lips are full and warm, a little wet. They taste like the orange-scented lip gloss she’s started using recently, and the peach-flavored vodka she drank earlier. Bum holds her face in his hands, delicately, and kisses her back, moaning breathily into her mouth.

He knows what it’s like to kiss Jieun – they have done it before, a couple times, always when they were a bit tipsy. He always liked it, but it’s never more than that: a bit of playful challenge between the two of them, a touch of teasing and this subtle, electric attraction that has been crackling between them, under the surface, since the first time they met.

Jieun pulls back just enough to look at him. Her dark eyes shine in the darkness of the club, long lashes covered in black mascara. She grins, her full, heart-shaped lips still glossy with a trace of lipstick.

She giggles, out of breath. “Sangwoo is gonna kill me…”

The sound of Bum’s own laugh is muffled by her hair as he hugs his friend closer again.

“Yeah. He might,” he agrees, then kisses Jieun’s cheek right under her beauty mark.

Jieun laughs, jumping a little as if she’s been tickled.

“But then again,” she counteracts, “I think you’re gonna be the one who’s in trouble tonight.”

Bum catches her left breast in his hand, softly pressing his palm against it and kneading it. A low moan vibrates in Jieun’s throat. He feels her nipple harden through her top and the bra underneath. He wonders what kind of bra it is; if it matches the plain, ordinary panties, or if it’s something more provocative. He’d like to find out.

Jieun rolls her hips again, squeezing his legs harder with her thighs. She rubs herself against him,  slowly, with her ass and her pussy pressed shamelessly against his crotch. Bum exhales through his teeth, tipping his head back. He no longer knows how long it’s been since she decided to sit on his lap and he let her – maybe half an hour? – but he’s been getting steadily harder with every minute, and now he feels as if his cock could burst through his jeans.

Jieun looks down at the very thin space between their bodies, at the spot where she is rubbing herself, fully aware of the effect it has on him.

With two fingers she grabs black leather collar he’s wearing – Sangwoo’s gift, the mark of his ownership – and pulls Bum’s face closer.

“What a well-behaved pet you are,” she coos sweetly. “So obedient and submissive, but a little naughty, too. Sangwoo is lucky to have you.”

“… Yes,” Bum exhales.

She gives his left thigh a quick squeeze, and thrusts against him again. This time, it’s Bum’s turn to grip her back with his hands, helplessly, and bite his tongue as he fights to hold back his impending orgasm. He can’t ruin his underwear like that, right there, or he’ll have to deal with it for the rest of the evening… and then he’ll have to face Sangwoo.

Jieun gives the collar another small tug, pushing his head back.

She kisses his neck.

“I’d have sex with you, you know,” she breathes. “If you wanted.”

Bum gulps, resuming to softly slide his hands up and down her hips. He raises his head and looks at the face of his tipsy friend. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are shiny.

A rush of different feelings bursts through his chest all at once. He’s flooded by a wave of acute affection for her, who is one of his best friends, and a gorgeous woman he finds wildly attractive. It’s warm, exhilarating, it makes him feel like he’s soaring.

He smiles at her, and at the same time, he feels a pang of want so strong it almost makes his head spin.

“Me too,” he admits, in a whisper, holding her. “I… have thought about it,“ he confesses, after a while, almost as an afterthought.

Her smile is softer now, her glance is attentive – curious, a bit flattered, but not annoyed or judging.

It’s weird, the way it is between them. Since they met a couple years ago, he always had the feeling that, in different circumstances, they would’ve ended up sleeping together, maybe even dating. In time, he came to understand that it’s mutual.

But he’s dating Sangwoo, and so they remained friends; but the attraction lingered, taking the shape of playful flirty exchanges, an occasional innuendo, a kiss on the cheek – a kiss on the lips, a few times.

Never more than that, and always with Sangwoo’s permission.

Bum looks at Jieun now and he feels elated, warm and safe. He’s past the little crush he had at the beginning; she’s his friend, and she makes him smile and laugh, and she’s so pretty… and he’d really like to make her cum.

Her small right hand rests for a moment on his chest; she slides it down, over his stomach, and finally cups his erection through his jeans. The touch makes him whimper.

“I wouldn’t mind having sex with Sangwoo, either,” Jieun adds. She giggles. “I mean, I have seen him.”

She gives his cock a slow squeeze through the denim. Bum growls. She’s making him so hard.

She twists one lock of his hair between index and middle finger, right above his forehead.

“I’d like to see him fuck you, though. I’d like to see how you submit to him, when there’s no one else around…” She bites her lower lip. “Maybe I could watch.”

Bum grips her hips tighter.

He grasps the hand she is using to fiddle with his hair and wraps his fingers around her wrist. The skin on her arm is smooth and a bit sticky with sweat.

Wordlessly, he brings her wrist to his mouth and kisses the inner part, before sinking his teeth right in the spot where her pulse runs.

He feels her shiver. He slips his fingers between hers and holds her hand in his, pressing kisses to her knuckles. He wonders what it’d feel like if she hit him, the way Sangwoo does.

“It could be arranged,” he says, finally. He kisses the back of her hand one last time, before letting her go.

“But not tonight. You know the deal. If you want us both, though… I could talk to Sangwoo.”

Jieun’s hand is still pressing against his crotch. He can nearly imagine how it would feel on his naked skin. Bum holds his breath.

Jieun smirks.

She pulls her arms back, at last releasing him.

She yanks her miniskirt down and pats the fabric on her thighs.

She clings to him for balance, and slides off his lap, teetering only a little.

“Time to go,” she says, cheerfully, standing up in front of him. “I think they’re calling me. Enjoy the rest of your night, Bumi.”

She blows him a kiss and winks at him, before turning away. Her long hair sways like a snake over her shoulders.

There’s a flash of pale pink and white, long bare legs and high heels; then, one second later, Jieun disappears among the crowd and the neon lights.

Bum slumps against the chair, defeated, his heartbeat thumping in his ears.

The music is still loud, even in that more private corner. Sweat has glued his clothes to his body.

He runs a hand through his hair. He absent-mindedly notices that it’s shaking.

He looks at the line of empty shot glasses on the table and decides he’s had enough for the night. The others are nowhere to be seen; he should start looking for them. He puts one hand on the table for balance and starts climbing down the stool.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Bum stops.

He turns his head to his right.

Sangwoo is standing just a few centimeters away, in his immaculate white button-up shirt and dark blue jeans.

Bum’s body grows hot and his mouth goes dry.

He slides down the stool, just as Sangwoo moves closer to brush one hand against Bum’s naked arm.

Bum finds Sangwoo’s hand and holds it, looking up at his boyfriend.

“Yes,” he says. He somehow manages to push out the word in one breath, without stuttering. He steps closer.

“Yes, very much.”

Chapter Text

“Bum. Come over here.”

Sangwoo calls him and Bum gets up from the corner in the living room where he’s been sitting cross-legged on the floor, re-arranging piles of old books and DVDs inside a cardboard box destined for the basement.

Bum walks across the room to his boyfriend. The wooden tiles are cold under the plants of his bare feet; the air inside the house cool and humid, like the inside of a church. It clings onto his hair and his skin, stifling like a noose around his throat; and it makes him shiver, despite the July heat pressing against the closed window panes.

Sangwoo is sitting sideways on the couch, with his legs carelessly thrown over the armrest. He’s swiping with his thumb on his phone, looking away from Bum. He slides the phone inside the pocket of his dark grey cargo shorts when Bum gets closer.

Bum stands up in front of him, arms hanging along his sides.

He suppresses the urge to fidget, to play with his hair or nibble on his fingernails or clear his voice – anything that might betray his impatience would only cause Sangwoo to leave him waiting longer.

Finally, Sangwoo looks up at him.

“Come a little closer, c’mon.”

His voice is gentle.

Step. Step.

Bum’s knees can almost touch the armrest now, Sangwoo’s bare, toned calves on top of it.

The heat has made Sangwoo’s hair messier, little curls standing up in multiple directions. He looks younger, a trace of teenage mischief about him that is almost tender.

He rubs his thumb over his lip, as if thinking, concealing the beginning of a smile.

Then:

“Take off your shirt.”

Unfazed by the surprised expression blooming on Bum’s face, Sangwoo adds, amiably: “Your shorts, too. It’s way too hot. Isn’t it?”

Bum can see Sangwoo’s smile now. It’s soft, playful.

The danger, as always, lurks underneath.

Bum blinks, swallowing saliva.

Sangwoo is playing, has been playing with him all morning; keeping himself busy, pretending not to pay attention to Bum, avoiding him to go take care of chores around the house that are not really in need of urgent attending to. He even found Bum some chores of his own, just to keep him distracted.

Now Bum is on edge. His every nerve feels exposed, ripped out of his skin and laid bare for Sangwoo to see.

Bum waits. A few seconds pass, maybe five, ten, he tries to keep count in his head; but Sangwoo doesn’t take the order back.

So he’s not joking around, then.

At last, with uncertain fingertips, Bum grabs the hem of the white t-shirt he’s wearing. It feels like an insurmountable task.

Slowly, he pulls it away, and drops it onto the floor.

Sangwoo’s gaze fixed on his body feels searing, even without seeing it. He’s used to it, to that feeling, and at the same time he isn’t.

Bum curves his back, bends his knees, and peels his black shorts off of his legs.

In nothing but a pair of grey briefs, he faces Sangwoo.

Sangwoo’s eyes flicker from Bum’s face to the rest of his body, then again to his face. He shifts on the couch, pushing his feet off the armrest. He leans forward, planting one elbow on his right thigh and resting his face on his cheek.

“You don’t need your underwear. Take it off.” The wet tip of his tongue darts between his plush lips. Bum’s pulse quickens.

“I want you naked,” Sangwoo adds, bluntly, earnest. As if the clarification is needed.

Bum holds the gaze of those brown eyes, he takes in the gentle curve of Sangwoo’s warm, reassuring smile. Desire starts building up naturally inside of him, a crescendo, bubbling like the tide against a dam, a wall of water pressing and roaring and struggling to be released, all this untamable, destructive energy barely contained.

Bum dutifully removes his briefs. He stands like that now, only his bones, and his sweat, and the rapid up-and-down of breath inside his chest, the beating of his heart echoing faintly against his ribcage.

Sangwoo’s gaze now is wildfire.

“Yeah,” he hums, almost more to himself. “Like that. I just want to take a look at you, babe.”

The soft fondness in his voice, contrasting with the stern orders he just gave, with the way he’s having Bum stand in front of him like a servant before a king – that’s what makes Bum feel unsteady on his feet.

Sangwoo pauses, parts his lips but doesn’t speak immediately. His Adam’s apple twitches, the tendons in his neck tensing.

“Chin up. Spread your legs some more.”

Bum struggles to focus. Will he drop to the floor? He feels faint enough that he just might.

If he doesn’t hurry and move, will Sangwoo make him?

Tempted to test him, Bum presses his lips together and instead obediently glides his heels in opposite directions on the wooden tiles, spreading his knees.

Sangwoo leans forward some more.

His eyes scan Bum’s body, the expanse of his torso, his legs. Bum can almost hear his breath, he can start to feel his smell: the mint body wash he used earlier, and the musk of his sweat.

It’s the heat, it’s got to be the summer heat that’s making Bum dizzier and weaker, even more incapable of resisting.

Sangwoo hums, long lashes shadowing his hooded eyes.

“I got a little rough with you last night, didn’t I? You’ve got so many new bruises…”

He lifts his hand, making a gesture toward Bum’s body. “On your belly… on your hips… around your neck…” He rubs the pad of his thumb over his lips, again. Bum frantically thinks about how much he wishes it were his own mouth that Sangwoo was touching like that.

“Look, all over your thighs, too…”

Bum doesn’t look, keeping his eyes on the floor, but he doesn’t need to. He remembers every spot where Sangwoo marked him last night, every single one, he memorized them by heart.

Every time after a session, over the next few days, when Sangwoo isn’t looking Bum often touches those spots, sliding his palms and pressing the tips of his fingers into every new bruise, every new scratch, to look at the skin changing, to chase an echo of that elation.

“You should see yourself. Maybe I’ll show you, later. In front of the mirror.”

Sangwoo smirks.

“You like my marks, don’t you?”

Bum doesn’t answer. Sangwoo shakes his head.

“Go ahead. It’s alright, you can speak.”

After a pause, Bum just nods quickly. He doesn’t trust his voice to come out, right now.

That makes Sangwoo chuckle, the sound low and warm and familiar, comforting. It’s intimate, it’s the little laugh he has when they lie in bed after sex, curled up together, with their faces close on a shared pillow.

“You deserve to be proud, Bum. You always take me so well. Like last night… last night was… incredible. Remember?”

Of course Bum remembers. His body grows hotter. The plants of his feet glide a little further to the side, and he’s not gonna be able to keep still for much longer now, not with the intent, ravenous look on Sangwoo’s eyes.

Sangwoo’s legs come open, mirroring Bum’s position. Bum tries to stop himself, but for a moment, a mere second, his eyes flicker to the space between Sangwoo’s thighs.

His breath hitches. He catches the outline of Sangwoo’s cock hardening under the fabric, pressed sideways with the tip against his left thigh.

Bum looks away again, but not before he sees Sangwoo nonchalantly palming at his crotch once, twice, with slow and deliberate movements.

“I know you like it when I give you pain.” Sangwoo’s words come out slowly, voice low, a chant.

Bum fights not to close his eyes, not to lean into Sangwoo’s voice with reckless abandon, as if it were the touch of his hands.

“So trustful. So obedient. My little slut. My little slave.”

The inside of Bum’s knees shake with the pressure of not moving. Is he going insane? He can smell Sangwoo’s arousal, the scent that is stronger and thicker beneath his underwear. It’s not fair that he should be the only one naked when the masterpiece of Sangwoo’s body is lying barely inches away from him.

“I should have you like that more often,” Sangwoo continues, and Bum marvels once again at how he can find himself so calm, so utterly relaxed, feeling nothing but bliss and longing for more, despite the harshness of what Sangwoo is saying. But it’s not the words that matter, it’s never the words – it’s everything underneath.

“Lying on your belly, in my lap, with your wrists tied up. At my mercy. With your back and your ass and your legs covered in red marks from the riding crop and the cane. I made you cry then.”

Sangwoo sucks in a rapid breath.

“I want to make you cry again.”

He raises a hand towards Bum, and for a frantic moment, Bum really thinks Sangwoo is going to touch him. He expects him to pull him by his wrist, or grab him around his waist.

It doesn’t happen.

Sangwoo pulls back.

“Turn around.”

Heart racing, Bum hesitates. Then, clumsily, he does.

“Bend over. Touch your feet with your hands.”

The blood rushes to Bum’s head. He bends down, vaguely thinking of P.E. classes and a roleplay scene they did once where he played a naughty student and Sangwoo the teacher – well, it was years ago, they were still learning – and he has to hide a hysterical giggle behind a cough.

He can still feel Sangwoo’s piercing eyes roaming over his body. The spots where he hit him are pulsing, alive. This isn’t fair. He wants to be able to see Sangwoo; he wants to know where this is going.

He thinks he hears Sangwoo shifting on the couch. He feels so hot.

“Hmm. So fucking pretty.”

Bum blushes at the praise.  

“You know… it’s really hard for me to concentrate when you go around looking like that, Bum.”

Silence.

Please, Bum begs inside his head, not knowing what for. Anything. Anything would be good.

“… You almost make me want to pull you on my knees and take you again, right now.”

Bum hears the soft whirl of a zipper being pulled down. Fabric falling on the floor.

Sangwoo’s voice, louder and steady again:

“Stand up. Come.”

Bum turns around again, slowly. Sangwoo is no longer wearing his white tank top and his shorts; only a pair of black boxers. He’s erect, and they’re tight-fitting. Bum wonders if the choice is casual, or if it’s all part of a plan Sangwoo has been conceiving since morning.

Staggering lightly, he quickly walks to Sangwoo until he’s standing exactly with his hips between Sangwoo’s parted legs.

Sangwoo raises his right arm and guides Bum, gently pushing him down on his knees.

“Good,” he says, and pats Bum’s left cheek, casually brushing his knuckles over Bum’s mouth. Bum thinks of sinking his teeth into the back of Sangwoo’s hand.

Sangwoo pets Bum’s black hair, slowly, back and forth, carding his fingertips through the thick strands.

Bum looks up at him, waiting.

“Now, here’s what you’re going to do…”

Sangwoo smiles, and with a sudden, sinking feeling, Bum understands. There’s something wrong. He made a mistake.

“I am going to watch an episode of my show,” Sangwoo continues, cheerfully and perfectly calm, “and you are going to stay right there where you are, between my legs. At my feet.”

Bum’s face falls, and Sangwoo beams wider, giving his head another pet.

“Aw, were you expecting something else, babe? I’m so sorry. I must have given you the wrong idea… still, baby, you’re so eager. You really are insatiable. After all I already gave you last night, you can barely walk and you still want more?”

The protest falls out of Bum’s mouth before he can stop it, while he instinctively grips Sangwoo’s knees with his hands. Bum leans towards him, eyes wide and pleading.

“Sangwoo, wait…! Please. Come on. I just…”

Sangwoo pointedly pretends not to notice, motioning to grab the remote abandoned on the cushion next to him.

Bum tries a different approach. He nuzzles the inside of Sangwoo’s left thigh, rubbing his forehead and his cheek against Sangwoo’s smooth, naked skin, the soft hairs tickling him.

He noses the fabric of Sangwoo’s underwear, pressing his lips and his teeth against the tip of Sangwoo’s dick, tense against the waistband.

Sangwoo inhales sharply.

“Please, Sangwoo. Are you sure…? At least allow me… allow me to suck you off. Let me make you feel good…”

He flattens his tongue against the cotton, leaving a small wet patch of saliva, and he feels the muscles in Sangwoo’s legs tensing, the grip on his hair tightening.

For a moment, Sangwoo is breathless, and Bum is almost sure he’s got him.

Then Sangwoo’s hand leaves his hair, and instead Sangwoo grips his chin, pulling him away.

“No, Bum,” Sangwoo scolds him, voice warm and affectionate and decidedly irremovable.

Bum groans.

“You’re mean,” he pouts.

Sangwoo rests his back against the backrest, settling into a more comfortable position.

“Don’t complain, or I’ll make it two episodes,” he warns, happily. “Now, be good, and this will end before you even notice. You’re going to stay there and keep me company. You don’t have to watch if you don’t want to, but no touching me, no kissing, no little tricks, and—” he stops brushing Bum’s hair for a moment “… no touching yourself either. Don’t try to cheat, I’ll know if you do. If you really have to get up, you ask.”

“And if I’m not good?”

“Punishment, of course. But not the type you’re hoping for.” Amusement dances in Sangwoo’s voice.

Defeated, Bum deflates in the spot where he’s kneeling, with his legs tucked under his knees.

The TV screen lights up; a few moments later, the familiar opening theme music of Sangwoo’s favorite police procedural drama fills the room.

Sangwoo reclines against the cushions, humming contentedly to himself. He resumes running his fingers through Bum’s hair, distractedly; aside from that, he doesn’t touch him in any other way. Bum’s half-hard cock, ignored, keeps twitching and leaves him uneasy for a while, slowly softening between his pressed up legs.

Bum sighs.

Okay. Very well. He’ll let Sangwoo have his fun, for now.

Later, he’s absolutely going to make him pay for this.