gloomy clock

Jonghyun growled when Taemin’s teeth clamped down on his fingers, but he didn’t pull away his hand. He never did. He always let Taemin do whatever he wanted to him, within reason. Not because he was afraid of that the other would do to him-- they were both deadly in their own ways-- but because he liked it. No, he loved it. He was usually the one always in control and dominating their killings, but behind the scenes, when prying eyes weren’t able to catch them, Taemin was the one dominating.

He shook his head, he hadn’t. Okay, so maybe he adjusted himself in his pants a few times, mostly because the pressure against his fly was more or less painful than anything, but he hadn’t touched himself sexually. He always left that for Taemin, because he knew the other appreciated it, especially if he waited long hours to be taunted like this. “It was difficult, but I know you like it more when you’re the one touching me,” he said, his voice hushed but rough around the edges.

He arched into the feel of the surgical scissors running down his spine, whipping his head to stare at Taemin with his dark eyes, staring deep into his soul. It wasn’t unusual for the two to play around with each other during such times, and it certainly wasn’t unusual for Jonghyun to fold under Taemin’s touches. As much as he tried to build a wall around himself, the other knew his buttons and limitations to get a foothold into that small crack, and he used it every single time. There was a hiss as he took in a breath, the scissors piercing his skin enough that a red spot of blood bloomed on the fabric, following the woven threads.

Jonghyun listened as Taemin spoke, growing rather agitated. He started to grind his teeth, his breath picking up, causing his chest to rise and fall rapidly as he stared at the limp, defenceless woman staring at them with wide, watery eyes. He barred his teeth at her, Taemin’s words causing anger to boil in the pit of his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to tear into her, to rip her skin like one would fillet fish. He shivered, trying to hide his ear into his shoulder when the other flicked their  tongue against it, causing goosebumps to ripple over his flesh.

“Stop,” he rasped, although the venom was in the words and not in his body language. He gently nudged Taemin aside and quickly rid himself of the shirt, tossing it aside. He stepped into the darkness again, only to return in a head to toe set of scrubs, a gas mask on his face, his hair hidden behind a skull cap and goggles covering his eyes. “Shall we go for autopsy style?” He flashed his scalpel, the moonlight catching it. He didn’t give Taemin much time to think before he was bending over the body, pressing the scalpel against the flesh.