#nsfwfic

“guys, s-stop!” you gasped between laughs and suguru slid closer, his strong hands holding you from behind and targeting every sensitive spot he could reach. the three of them had you pinned against the cushions, their bodies crowding yours in a pile. zuko’s knee pressed between your legs, jinshi’s chest brushed your arm, and suguru’s breath warmed your neck as he leaned in. 

the tickling intensified, fingers skittering over your stomach, up to your sides, and grazing the undersides of your breasts through your thin tank top. you writhed, trying to escape, but the sensations blurred the line between laughter to something hotter. zuko boldly poke right at your hipbone and sent a jolt straight to your core, and instead of a giggle, a low, involuntary moan escaped your lips. 

the room went still. 

zuko’s hands froze on your waist, jinshi pulled back slightly with wide eyes, and suguru’s fingers lingered on your arm, his gaze darkening. you felt heat flood your cheeks yet the air had thickened with unspoken tension. 

“did you just…? jinshi trailed off, voice husky as he tried to break the silence.

“tickling got a little…intense.” you said quietly but enough for the three to hear. you bit your lip, avoid their gazes, heart pounding. but none of them moved away. zuko’s eyebrow arched, his eyes dragging hungrily over your figure. 

“intense, huh?” suguru’s hand slid upwards to your thigh. you twitched involuntarily.

 the three men made eye contact with each other and agreed silently.

 “we could make it more than that,” jinshi nodded, his elegant fingers tracing your collarbone. “only if you want.” the invitation hung there, you looked up and saw three hungry gazes. you opened your legs slightly and nodded.

the playfulness finally shattered into raw desire. 

zuko captured your mouth first, his kiss fierce and demanding, tongue thrusting in deep as suguru yanked your tank top up and over your head. jinshi worked on your shorts, peeling them down with your panties, exposing your bare pussy to the cool air.

you were naked beneath them in seconds, their hands everywhere–stroking, squeezing, claiming. zuko broke the kiss and latched onto your neck. sucking hard to leave marks while his fingers found its way to pinched your nipples, rolling them until they ache. “fuck princess, you’ve been hiding this body from us,” he growled against your skin. 

jinshi knelt between your spread thighs, his breath hot on your folds. he kissed your inner thighs before his tongue flicked out, lapping at your clit with slow deliberate strokes. you arched, moaning loudly as he sucked the sensitive nub into his mouth, his slender fingers parting the lips to delve inside, curling against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

suguru claimed your mouth next, slower than zuko, more teasing, his tongue exploring while you tasted cigarette smoke on him. one hand cupped your breast, thumb circling the nipple.

it was overwhelming, it was overload—too much and not enough all at once. jinshi devouring your pussy, tongue thrusting in and out while he hummed vibrations against you sending jolts everywhere; zuko’s teeth grazing your neck and shoulder as he pinched your aching nipple and his hardening cock against your hip through his boxers; suguru’s hand squeezing your other breast and  slapped hard. you moaned into suguru’s mouth, hips bucking, slick coating as your walls clenched. 

“she’s so wet already,” jinshi murmured, pulling back to see his fingers glistening with your slick on them. he stripped fully, his cock springing free—long and pinky. zuko followed, shoving his boxers down to reveal his thick veiny length, already leaking in pre-cum. “so ready for us.” suguru stood, shredding the rest, his impressive size made your mouth water. 

they maneuvered you onto your hands and knees, sinking on the couch. zuko positioned himself at your front. 

“say ah,” you obeyed, taking his cock into your mouth fully. the salty taste flooded your senses as you sucked, tongue swirling around the head before sliding down, hollowing your cheeks. he groaned, fingers tangling in your hair, guiding the pace.

behind you, jinshi rubbed his cock along your soaked slit, teasing your entrance before thrusting in deep with one smooth motion. you cried out around zuko's length, the stretch burning deliciously as jinshi filled you, his hips snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt. he fucked you steadily, each plunge hitting deep, his hands gripping your ass cheeks, spreading them to watch his cock disappear into your pussy.

every movement sent ripples through you—zuko at your mouth, jinshi deep behind you, suguru standing close enough that his palm slid slowly down your spine as he watched you come apart piece by piece.

“you look so pretty like this,” suguru said softly. “taking everything. your knees trembled against the couch cushions.

and he still hadn’t touched you yet.

suguru stepped behind jinshi, one hand sliding over the curve of your spine. his palm came down sharply on your ass and slapped, the sting making your cunt clench tighter around jinshi’s cock. jinshi hissed at the sudden squeeze, fingers digging into your hips. 

“fuck,” he breathed, thrusts losing their measured elegance as he began pounding harder, faster, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. each snap of his hips shoved you further onto zuko’s length. 

zuko groaned deeply, holding your jaw steady as you gagged around him. saliva dripped down your chin, coating the base of his cock as you struggled to keep pace. “that’s it, princess,” he rasped, tugging your hair to make you look up at him. “such a pretty mouth.”

your body trembled from every direction—mouth stretched full, pussy relentlessly filled, skin burning where suguru’s hands roamed. he kneaded your ass, then slid two fingers down to where jinshi was fucking into you, collecting the slick that spilled around him. he pressed those fingers to your clit in slow circles.

you nearly screamed.

the added pleasure hit like lightning through your spine. your thighs shook, mouth slipping off zuko’s cock with a wet pop as you cried out openly now. zuko cursed, stroking himself fast at the sight of your ruined expression.

“she’s close,” jinshi said, breathless now, sweat dampening his hair as his hips slammed harder. “can feel her.” suguru smiled against your neck before biting down just enough to make you gasp. “then let her.”

his fingers worked your clit faster, cruel and precise, while jinshi drove into you without mercy. the couch creaked beneath the force of it, your moans turning ragged, helpless. zuko gripped your chin and smeared pre-cum across your lips before pushing two fingers into your mouth. “suck.” you obeyed automatically, eyes wet, body shaking as pressure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly.

then it snapped.

your orgasm tore through you violently. you cried out around his fingers, walls fluttering wildly around jinshi’s cock as your whole body convulsed. slick ran down your thighs, soaking the couch beneath you while you shook in their hands.

“there she is,” suguru murmured, voice dark with satisfaction.

jinshi groaned at the pulsing grip of your cunt, thrusting through your climax with desperate, uneven strokes. zuko jerked himself faster at your face, at the tears in your eyes, at the way your lips stayed parted in broken moans.

your body still quivered from the aftershocks, slick coating your thighs and the couch beneath you. jinshi pulled out slowly, his cock glistening with your release, a low groan escaping him as he stepped back. he wrapped a hand around his shaft, stroking lazily while his eyes raked over you, watching the way your chest heaved and your lips parted in ragged breaths.

none of them looked finished with you. not even close.

zuko withdrew from your mouth with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting you to his throbbing length. he cupped your face gently, thumb brushing your swollen lips. "good girl," he murmured, voice husky. "but we're not done yet."

suguru's hand left your clit, slick fingers trailing up your back as he positioned himself behind you. he pressed his body against yours, his hard cock nudging between your ass cheeks. "turn her around," he said to zuko, his tone commanding yet laced with hunger.

zuko nodded, helping you shift on the couch. they maneuvered you onto your back first, but suguru shook his head. "on your side. i want to see her face when i take her ass."

your heart pounded as they arranged you on your side, one leg lifted and hooked over zuko's hip. zuko knelt in front, his cock brushing your inner thigh as he aligned himself with your dripping pussy. suguru settled behind, his fingers spreading lube—grabbed from nearby—over your tight hole, working one digit in slowly to prepare you.

"relax for me," suguru whispered against your ear, his free hand stroking your hip. he added a second finger, scissoring gently, the stretch making you whimper. your body, still sensitive from the previous climax, responded eagerly, muscles loosening under his touch.

jinshi stood a few feet away, his fist pumping his cock in steady rhythm, eyes locked on the scene. "fuck, she's gorgeous like this," he said, voice rough. "all spread out for you two."

zuko pushed forward, the head of his cock breaching your pussy with ease, your walls welcoming him after jinshi's earlier pounding. he sank in deep, bottoming out with a grunt, filling you completely. "so tight," he growled, holding still to let you adjust.

suguru timed it perfectly, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his cock. he pressed the tip against your ass, pushing past the ring of muscle inch by inch. the dual sensation hits you like a wave—zuko's thick length in your pussy, suguru's invading your ass, both stretching you to your limits. you gasped, fingers clutching zuko's shoulders, nails digging in as the burn turned to pleasure.

"that's our girl, take us both," suguru breathed, his hips flush against your ass once he was fully seated. they began to move, finding a rhythm—zuko thrusting in as suguru pulled out, then switching, their cocks sliding against each other through the thin barrier inside you.

every plunge sent shocks through your core, the friction building impossibly fast. your pussy clenched around zuko, ass gripping suguru, the fullness overwhelming. moans spilled from your lips unbidden, body rocking between them.

jinshi's strokes quickened, his breaths coming in sharp bursts as he watched. precum beaded at his tip, slicking his hand. "look at her," he rasped. "stuffed full, taking it like she was made for this."

suguru's hand snaked around to pinch your nipple, rolling it between his fingers while he fucked your ass harder, the slap of skin echoing. zuko captured your mouth in a messy kiss, tongue tangling with yours as he drove deeper, hitting that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

the pressure mounted again, your body trapped in the best kind of vise. you broke the kiss to cry out, "m-more…please—"

jinshi couldn't hold back any longer. he stepped closer, cock in hand, and tilted your head toward him. "open up," he demanded softly.

you parted your lips eagerly, tongue flicking out to lap at his tip before he guided himself in. the taste of your own arousal on him mingled with his saltiness as you sucked, hollowing your cheeks. he threaded fingers through your hair, holding you steady while zuko and suguru continued their relentless pace.

now you were surrounded completely,

zuko pounding your pussy, suguru claiming your ass, jinshi fucking your mouth all with deep thrusts. your body jolted with each movement, throat working around jinshi's length, gagging softly when he pushed deeper.

suguru's free hand dipped between your legs, fingers finding your clit once more, rubbing in firm circles that matched their thrusts. the added stimulation shattered you. your orgasm built like a storm, crashing over you without warning. you screamed around jinshi's cock, vibrations making him hiss, your walls spasming around zuko and suguru in waves.

they didn't stop, drawing out your release until you were a trembling mess, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. jinshi pulled back slightly, letting you gasp for air before sliding back in, his own climax approaching as he watched you unravel.

"come for us again," zuko urged, his voice strained, hips snapping erratically. suguru echoed him with a low moan, his cock twitching inside your ass.

the room filled with the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, your muffled cries, their grunts of pleasure. jinshi's hand tightened in your hair as he chased his peak, spilling hot down your throat moments later, forcing you to swallow every drop.

zuko's thrusts grew erratic, his cock swelling inside your pussy as he chased his release. "fuck, i'm close," he groaned, fingers digging into your thigh where it hooked over his hip. suguru matched him, pounding into your ass with short, sharp snaps, his breath hot against your neck. "me too—gonna fill you up," he rasped, one hand still circling your clit to keep the aftershocks rippling through you.

the dual friction pushed them over the edge almost simultaneously. zuko came first, burying himself deep with a guttural moan, hot spurts flooding your pussy. the sensation triggered suguru, who slammed home one last time, his cock pulsing as he emptied into your ass, ropes of cum coating your insides. you whimpered at the warmth spreading through you, body clenching around them in response, milking every drop.

they held still for a moment, all three of you panting, sweat-slicked skin sticking together. zuko pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then your lips, tender and lingering. suguru nuzzled your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind, holding you close as he softened inside you.

slowly, they eased out, careful not to overwhelm your sensitive body. a trickle of their combined releases leaked from you, but zuko was quick to grab a nearby throw blanket, draping it over your lower half while murmuring, "easy there. we've got you."

jinshi, now recovered, knelt beside the couch, brushing damp hair from your face. "you were incredible," he said softly, his voice full of warmth. he leaned in to kiss your cheek, then helped suguru and zuko shift you into a more comfortable position—propped against pillows, legs untangled.

suguru fetched warm cloths from the bathroom, returning to gently clean you up, his touches feather-light on your thighs and between your legs. "does it hurt anywhere?" he asked, concern etching his features as he wiped away the evidence of your passion.

you shook your head, a shy smile tugging at your lips despite the exhaustion. "no... it was perfect."

zuko chuckled, settling on one side of you, pulling you into his chest. his hand stroked your arm in lazy circles. "you're perfect," he corrected, pressing another kiss to your temple.

jinshi joined on your other side, his fingers intertwining with yours. suguru finished cleaning and slid in behind you again, this time just to cuddle, his chest warm against your back. the four of you tangled together on the couch, a pile of limbs and soft breaths.

"game night was... eventful," jinshi teased lightly, earning a laugh from suguru.

"best one yet," zuko agreed, his voice muffled against your hair.

“let’s do this more often.” you said and the three men chuckled, snuggling around you into their embrace. whispering praises and promises as you drifted off to slumber. 

could not stop thinking about them and decided to contribute to society (and for my sanity) art credit: @ suaayen

DomSwitch!Minho x SubSwitch!Jisung | Public teasing | Shower stuff | Rough sex | LOTS of smut | A bit of fluff & aftercare

There's something in the air at the 2026 Stray Kids fanmeeting. Some light banter and teasing turns serious for the Minsung couple. They can't get home soon enough to release some of that tension.

A short Minsung one-shot for you all!

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It was business as usual at the fanmeeting. The boys always enjoyed these events, in part because of their fans, yes, but also because the casual atmosphere allowed for them to be more like themselves. Of course, it's customary to dial up the fan service at these gigs, which means the line between the genuine and the act becomes blurred. No one takes further advantage of this truth than Minho and Jisung.

While Minho prefers not to do much in the way of his own fan service, he does enjoy seeing the explosion of reactions from fans whenever he teases another member on stage. It's a different kind of thrill when he gets to do it to Jisung. The extra added layer of danger due to their (not-so-secret) secret unlabeled relationship makes it more rewarding... and kind of turns him on.

Feeling starved of attention from Jisung—having gone a whole minute or two without being magnetized together—Minho patted his right thigh, motioning for him to come sit on his lap while they listen to the others speak to the audience. A small symphony of coos emerged from the nearest portion of the crowd as Jisung demurely seated himself, as if the action were routine—and it was. He never missed an opportunity. 

Smiling internally at this small non-verbal interaction, Minho decided to take it a step further and bait his lover for a reaction. He knew what that position reminds him of. He gave an innocuous bounce of his leg, jolting the other up and down for a second. Jisung did a good job of concealing his physical reaction to the audience, but he couldn't get the way he held his breath and tensed his muscles past Minho if he tried. Minho's face remained static, passing a quick glace at the man on his leg, his internal smile evolving into a grin. There were few things he enjoyed more than teasing him, especially in public. He remained still for a few seconds until he felt Jisung relax from being startled, then repeated the motion. A small high-pitched exhalation escaped from Jisung, followed by a short grunt that indicated 'Stop.'

"Cute," Minho whispered through stiff lips, effectively earning an embarrassed grumble from his lover.

The group began filing out of their dressing rooms in their street clothes after the fanmeeting. The halls reverberated with jokes and discussions of plans for the remainder of the day. Like clockwork, Minho and Jisung made their rounds, providing numerous excuses to skip any group activities and head straight home. The two were the first to leave the building, quickly shuffling to their chauffeur to escape the frigid bite of the wind. As annoying as it was to sometimes not be allowed to drive themselves to gigs, they enjoyed these quiet moments with each other.

The ride home was mostly quiet. They exchanged some brief banter about the event, things they saw in the audience, funny moments on stage, the like. They spent the last five minutes of the trip silently scrolling through their phones, checking their messages. Jisung then tabbed over to his notes app to review early lyric ideas for a new song. He opened his mouth to ask for Minho's thoughts on a string of lines when he's interrupted by a buzzing notification. It's a text message from...

He flit his eyes up to his right at Minho with a slightly confused smirk. "Babe, do you know that I'm right next to you?"

Minho rolled his eyes at Jisung's lack of situational awareness. "Do you know that you're the leading cause of headaches," he sighed in playful retort.

Jisung slid his thumb down over the toolbar to read what the message said.

"Lee Minho~❤️: You were thinking about it all day, weren't you?"

He side-eyed Minho before opening his messaging app, a faint pink hue fading onto his ears. Minho quietly tilted his head back toward his phone.

"Jisungie: Thinking about what? 🤷‍♂️" He flashed puppy eyes at Minho, feigning ignorance.

"Lee Minho~❤️: Me."

"Jisungie: I never think about you"

"Lee Minho~❤️: Of course. You definitely weren't thinking about me when you were adjusting your pants after leaving my lap earlier."

Jisung shifted in his seat, the embarrassment from the realization that he wasn't as smooth with that as he thought, rising to his face. Minho cocked an eyebrow, taking notice to the other's nervousness.

"Jisungie: Did you really have to do that in front of everyone..."

"Lee Minho~❤️: That's always your favorite part."

"Jisungie: You're really gonna get me in trouble one day 😓😓😓"

"Lee Minho~❤️: I can get you in trouble right now, if you'd like." Minho quietly placed a firm hand on Jisung's upper thigh, to which he responded with a small gasp. The driver flashed an inquisitive look at them through the rearview mirror.

Jisung typed frantically, "Hyungggg 😭 don't embarrass me!!!"

"Lee Minho~❤️: Why not? Because you'll get too hard from it?" He tightened his grip on his thigh, chuckling to himself as he hit send.

"Jisungie: ...fuck you," he typed in English, hitting send right as the car pulled to a stop in the drop-off area of their apartment building.

"That's the plan, cutie," Minho replied verbally as they stepped out of the car, the chauffeur closing the door awkwardly behind them.

Jisung, now beet-red, swats him in the arm before hiding his face in the hood of his dark-blue sweatshirt. Minho giggled, wrapping his arm around his waist as they head inside.

Jisung put his hands in the pockets of his grey sweatpants as the two entered the elevator, making an effort to conceal the print that's making itself more and more obvious by the second. As the doors closed, Minho turned to face him, standing so close that he felt compelled to back into the wall. Minho raised a hand to his chin, placing his thumb firmly against his jaw; his other hand, slipping into his own jacket pocket. Jisung let out a small whine, partially due to the heated moment, partially due to the rail that's now digging into his back.

"You're getting worse at keeping us a secret, dummy," Jisung complained, gaze slowly shifting to the other's lips.

"Don't act like I'm the only one who's bad at keeping secrets," Minho whispered, leaning in to place a warm kiss onto his lover's forehead.

As he pulled away, Jisung pulled him closer by the waist, briefly meeting his lips with his own.

"Seriously, Minho-ya, you're so annoying."

Minho smirked as he returned the kiss, caressing Jisung's lower lip with his teeth before pulling away once more.

"Yeah? Is that why you're so uncomfortable down there?" He flit his eyes down to the aching protrusion his lover was doing an increasingly bad job of hiding.

Jisung parted his lips to speak, only to choke out a raspy groan at the pressure the other began applying with his thigh. Minho smiled, grabbing the other's wrist from behind his waist, stepping back as the elevator slowed to a stop. "Thought so."

Jisung stared, mouth agape, a rough exhale taking the place of his next word. The bright tone of the elevator, followed by the smooth scraping of the doors sliding open, snapped him back into reality.

"Shit... were you always such a tease?" A question so rhetorical, it earned a cackle from Minho, as he led the ball of sexual frustration behind him into their apartment.

The tension in the air thickened with the click of the door closing behind the two. Minho tossed their bags onto the couch before pulling Jisung back into a close embrace, his left hand slithering under the other's shirt, fingers trailing up his back. Jisung flinched at the touch, pressing his chest against Minho's.

"Sungie," Minho hummed, tone suddenly changing from flirty to sweet. "I'm gonna take a shower, care to join me?"

Jisung slid his lower lip under his teeth, hands resting gently on the other's hips, puppy eyes raking over an unreadable expression. The sight of him being so flustered made Minho's cock jump against him, which he pretended he didn't feel, so as to keep his rapidly fleeting composure. With the two's uneven schedules and preference for separate living spaces, it wasn't often that they got to shower together. The idea was exciting.

"Depends... gonna try anything in there, or are we just gonna wash up," Jisung teased, running his fingers along the other's waistband.

"You're solid as a rock right now, you tell me," Minho jabbed, right hand firmly cupping Jisung's ass before nudging him toward the younger's bedroom—which had the larger connected bathroom. Jisung giggled in anticipation, slightly embarrassed by how hard he was already.

They silently undressed, leaving piles of clothes outside the bathroom. Minho took it upon himself to remove Jisung's boxers for him, grinning at the way his dick sprung free, pulsing rhythmically. The warm glow from the bathroom against his honey-like complexion made him look absolutely delicious.

"Quit staring, you're making me nervous," he whined sarcastically.

"Ah, forgive my manners, Jisung-ssi," Minho bantered, lowering to his knees, sliding his hand down the back of Jisung's right leg. He placed soft kisses onto the inner thigh, making him shiver.

"A-ah! Your hand is so cold, baby," Jisung whined, left hand bracing the wall. His other hand began to wander his own body, trailing up his abs and across his chest. He was burning with need.

"You're just hot." Minho moved up his leg, placing one final kiss to his hip bone before moving south of his pelvis, taking in the intoxicating scent of a day of dancing and costume changes. He pressed a long kiss to the base of his lover's dick, balancing it on his nose, dragging his tongue across his scrotum in the process.

Jisung's breath caught in his throat, otherwise he would have definitely moaned from the long-awaited contact. He groped himself deeper, pushing into Minho's touch. His eyes rolled shut as he felt his lover begin to glide his tongue toward the tip. Minho, however, stopped just short, earning a disappointed whine from the other man, as his eyes reopened to see an unbearable few centimeters of space between them.

"And much too eager, little mouse," Minho continued, standing once again.

He pecked Jisung on the cheek before walking into the bathroom, patting his ass as he passed. The little mouse in question scoffed at the torturous teasing, following him in and shutting the door.

The room filled with the sound of nothing but the calm pitter-patter of running water, steam slowly forming on the mirrors and glass door of the shower. The two lovers stood facing each other, intently observing the other bathe themself. Jisung couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of Minho's body. He almost never gets to see him like this. It's been ages since they even went to a bathhouse together, let alone, this. His eyes locked onto a patch of soap suds slipping down his toned chest, tracing every curve before collecting in his V-line. He thought the sight to be insanely erotic. Whatever stiffness he lost in the time between when he stepped into the bathroom and now quickly returned. Afraid his uncouth thoughts were a bit too visible on his face, he bashfully shifted his gaze back up to meet Minho's intense eyes. He blushed deeply at the realization he'd already been looking at his face.

"Hey, my dick's down here," he chuckled, pressing his hand against his pelvis, sliding his cock between his middle and ring fingers and pushing down. Anything to break that eye contact. Minho always had the most fervid eyes. It took everything in Jisung's power not to shy away from them.

"Funny, I would've assumed it was up there," Minho playfully retorted, gesturing toward his face with his chin.

"Aww, you're so mean, hyungie," Jisung whined, exasperatedly. "What are you waiting for, anyway?"

"Not sure what you mean, my love."

"Why don't you hurry up and fuck me, like you've been wanting to all day? Making me wait this long is so cruel! Can't you see I'm dying over here," Jisung mewled, properly grasping his cock and stroking it downward.

He reached his other hand across his chest to thumb over his blushing nipples, now fully perked from arousal. Minho failed to contain his own when his eye contact finally broke to watch him touch himself, struggling to conceal the urges he was doing an otherwise good job of keeping at bay.

"Jisung-ah... couldn't you have been a little more patient," he scolded, maintaining his composure, voice darkening to a quiet monotone as he closed the distance between them. "You were being so good until now. Now look at you, touching yourself to the sight of me."

He grabbed the other's wrists and held his arms behind his back with an embrace, bodies fully flush against each other. The pleasureful discomfort of their erections pressed tightly together sent shivers through them both. Jisung grinned, energized by the feeling of physical restraint.

"Am I under arrest, officer," he humored, arching into Minho's body.

"Mm, you're in so much trouble," he admonished before sinking his teeth into Jisung's neck, grazing along the pronounced muscle there, producing a sharp moan that pierced through the younger man's gritted teeth as his eyes screwed shut.

Minho kissed, bit, sucked, and scratched at the area, moving down to his collar bone, leaving a lascivious trail of pinkish-red, bruises beginning to form. He backed Jisung into the wall to free his own hands before letting one pinch and prod at one of the swollen buds. Jisung stiffened, mewling incessantly while beginning to rut his hips against the pressure. Minho silenced him with a deep kiss, using his free hand to caress the back of his head, in part, to cushion it against the wall, but also to comb his fingers through his hair. He gripped a fistful of soft, wavy strands tightly, pulling his head to the side to expose the untouched side of his neck.

"B-babe—wait," Jisung pleaded as Minho pulled away. "The schedule tomorrow..."

Minho hummed in acknowledgement, gently pressing his lips against the other's jawline, considering whether to continue. "What about it? You don't want everyone to know who you belong to, hm? Does it embarrass you, Sungie," he teased, already knowing the answer. "—or does it turn you on too much? You pretend you can't bear to be seen like this in front of all those people, but deep down, you crave that feeling. You enjoy looking like a pathetic slut, is that right? I know the idea of everyone instantly recognizing these marks as mine gives you a thrill."

He began kissing down his neck once again, softer this time. As always, he couldn't get enough of flustering Jisung, but he did get the hint.

Jisung's breath hitched, face red-hot with a mix of emotions. Fear, intrigue, arousal, all building up into a tight knot in his stomach. He desperately needed this to escalate. The most timid sounding whine finally managed to release itself from his mouth in lieu of any sort of verbal response. It was a bit difficult to formulate thoughts in the state he was in.

Minho redirected his trail of kisses back up to his face, planting the final to his cheek.

He spoke low, "Aww, nothing to say? That's okay."

He stepped away to turn off the shower. Jisung's body recoiled at the sudden and agonizing lack of pressure, the meter of space between them feeling like miles.

"Hopefully, you'll remember after you get yourself cleaned up," he continued, stepping out and reaching for a towel.

Jisung couldn't manage to do much other than stare, blushing deeply at the sight of his lover wrapping a towel tightly around his waist, leaving a generously defined print between his legs. Jisung's dick twitched helplessly, desperately, in the cooling air.

"I'll be in the living room. Don't take too long." Minho's voice, smooth, even a touch sultry, echoed briefly before the door closed behind him, leaving the other to hurriedly scramble out of the shower to get himself prepared.

The dorm was eerily silent as Jisung stepped out of the bathroom, black robe lazily thrown around him, loosely tied, hanging off one shoulder. Exiting his bedroom, he's met with a burning gaze from Minho, looking up from his phone, sitting cross-legged in the burgundy recliner in their living room, clad in a blue hoodie and black boxers. Between them was a glass coffee table. On it, were the usual: TV remote, books, coasters, unlit scented candles, bottle of lube. The usual.

"What took so long? I was starting to think I got stood up," Minho taunted, sliding his phone onto the coffee table.

Rolling his eyes, Jisung leaned his back against his bedroom door. He crossed his arms as he spoke, "You got cold?"

Minho chuckled in reply, looking down at his inconveniently clothed appearance. "Yeah, a little, to be honest. I'm sure you're decently capable of helping me out with that, though." He uncrossed his legs and relaxed into the chair, patting his thigh. "Come here, baby."

Jisung sauntered over, his robe slipping off the other shoulder on the way, exposing his soft, muscular chest. Sitting on the right armrest, he swung his legs across the other's lap, resting his elbow on the back of the recliner, and staring into him deeply through dark, lidded eyes. Pink spread over Minho's ears as he gave a shy smile, briefly looking away, but forcing his eyes to return to Jisung's.

"You seriously need to stop doing that," Minho chuckled, caressing his lover's leg.

"What? I just sat down," Jisung replied through an innocent smile that melted the other man's heart.

"When you look at me like that, I seriously can't handle it."

Jisung groaned, "I know, I'm soooo hot, now stop stalling! I can't take this anymore." He punctuated his sentence with a deep kiss, passionate, lips locking together.

"Mmh...I just wanted to savor the moment," Minho whispered against his lips, pushing the other's robe up his leg.

"You're just greedy," Jisung quipped before he was roughly pulled into the other man's lap.

Pressing a firm kiss to his jaw, Minho lifted him slightly to allow him to swing one of his legs around to straddle his lap, grabbing two handfuls of ass in the process.

"You're absolutely right," he whispered through a devilish grin, before ripping his lover's robe open.

"Haha, no fair," Jisung giggled, lifting Minho's hoodie up over his chest. "So rude, exposing me like this while being fully clothed."

Minho raised his arms to assist. "Don't complain, you love undressing me."

"Shut up."

Jisung removes the hoodie, flinging it onto the floor beside them, before quickly closing the distance once again, locking lips and grinding his hips downward. He moaned softly into the other's mouth as hands returned to his glutes, pulling them apart and massaging them in circular motions to deepen the pressure. Minho slid further beneath him to kiss along his collar bones and pecs, making sure to give each side its fair share of attention. Jisung took the opportunity to rut against his abdomen, cock leaking over the smooth skin. He whined in frustration at the stimulation; pleasurable, but just shy of enough.

Minho's brows furrowed, the heat of their bodies together taking over his mind. He delivered a sharp smack to Jisung's right asscheek before releasing it to bring his hand up to his chest, squeezing and kneading at the defined muscle.

"I still can't get over how big these have gotten," he murmured into the other pec, kissing directly over the bud, while rolling his thumb over the other.

Jisung flinched involuntarily at the sensation. "J-jealous?"

"Just admiring, love."

He applied the slightest bit of suction, circling his tongue around the sensitive area that was now in his mouth. His other hand began snaking its way back down the other's body, taking its time over every curve.

Jisung let out a beautiful sound at the sensation, back arching to deepen the contact. Minho's boxers were starting to get very uncomfortable.

"Fuck," he muttered, turning to give the other nipple some attention. He took advantage of their currently separated pelvises to slide his boxers down, throbbing dick audibly slapping against the other's taint as it's freed.

Jisung groaned, rolling his hips back down, letting Minho's cock slide up and down against his entrance. The pool of precum collecting on Minho's stomach began to drip down his side.

"Look at the mess you're making, Hannie... Are you really that impatient?" He grabbed the younger man's hips tightly, forcing him to still his movements.

Jisung shivered and groaned loudly, struggling against his grasp. "Pleeaaseee, babe... I n-need... hnnn... I can't..."

Unable to muster any more strength from being horny for hours, he collapsed onto the backrest of the chair; the sudden weight shift causing the recliner to, well, recline—just enough to push him further over Minho. "S-shit, sorry. I'm so clumsy."

Minho's eyes wandered down Jisungs body, which had just begun to glisten with sweat in the ambient lighting from adjacent rooms. Gorgeous. He couldn't picture many more times he ever looked hotter.

"No, great idea, actually. Push it a little further for me."

Jisung shyly leaned into the backrest, sinking deeper into a horizontal position. A sudden gasp, followed by a strained moan broke free, as his lover took him into his mouth.

Minho slid his hands up the back of Jisung's legs, pushing him deeper. In a split second, his full length was past his lips. He always took him so well. Jisung is on the smaller side, which was never a problem for Minho, as this is the only way he likes to be penetrated, anyway. A perfect fit for his throat, and he absolutely loves pleasing his lover this way, thoroughly enjoying every utterance he earns.

"A-ah! Minho-ya—unff, fuck—please..."

Jisung helplessly sputtered as the man underneath him raked his tongue along the underside of his cock in a dangerous milking motion. His hips stuttered, the urge to resist the overwhelming pleasure overcoming him.

"Please, I-I don't wan—I'm gonna—fuck, slow down..."

Minho swallowed around him, drawing out a long, high-pitched moan from him that reverberated throughout the room. Jisung flung his arms over the edge of the backrest, burying his face into the plush upholstery as his orgasm rapidly approached, his dick kicking against the roof of the other's mouth. This cued Minho to pull off of him, deviously slowly, making sure to drag his tongue along the slit as it exited. The younger man groaned deeply, a heavy contrast to the sound he'd just made a second ago, hips absentmindedly bucking into the air between them, chasing the release that, by this point, was retreating back into the pit of his stomach.

"Love... you wouldn't do that, would you? It would be so rude if you came into my mouth like that, wouldn't it? And so soon, too."

Jisung whined, stilling his hips as his orgasm died. "S-sorry..."

"Apology accepted," Minho coaxed, reaching up to caress the other's face. "Now, I need a favor from you," he purred, as he pressed his index and middle fingers against his lips.

Jisung parted them, sensually running his tongue between the two digits, before sliding them into his mouth, sucking at the first knuckle. His eyes unfocused as his oral fixation took over, and he began working his tongue over, through, and around his lover's fingers, humming with satisfaction. This was always so hot for Minho, he couldn't help but slowly stroke himself with his free hand.

Before he got too carried away, Minho retrieved his hand from Jisung's mouth, saliva running down toward his wrist. He then pressed his slicked fingers against the other's hole, spreading them to circle the rim, gripping his cock tighter as he felt the slight suction against the pads of his fingertips.

Jisung rocked back against his touch. "Please... I need it," he whined, upper body going limp.

"Good boy, Sungie," Minho praised, as he pushed his middle finger in halfway.

Small grunts and whines filled the room as Jisung fucked himself onto the digit, wriggling desperately against the knuckle, begging for it to go deeper than anatomy would allow.

"Patience, baby," Minho admonished, removing his finger just as quickly as it went in. "Just testing."

"I'm ready noowwwww," Jisung whined, impatiently. "Pleeaasseee, I can take it! I prepared a little in the bathroom, I sweaarrr!"

Minho clicked his teeth, pushing him to the side momentarily to reach for the bottle of lube on the coffee table.

"I know. Unfortunately, I care about you and want you to feel good. Even though you're annoying," he jabbed, giving Jisung's ass a little smack after the last part, at which he giggled playfully. Coating his fingers generously, Minho quickly reassumed his previous position.

He marveled his lover's form in this position. His eyes scanned over his beautiful skin, his sexy tattoos, his defined muscles. His strong body, by any means, capable of overpowering him easily, especially now, being above him; yet, here he was, ready to submit. He watched how the younger's chest heaved, how his abs flexed and relaxed with every needy shiver, how his cock twitched and jumped in anticipation. Jisung was unbelievably sexy like this, and the thought that it was all for him excited Minho even further. It took nearly all his mental fortitude not to just sit there and get himself off to the scene.

Remembering where he was, Minho returned his hand to Jisung's ass, circling the rim twice before reentering him, middle and ring fingers this time. Splaying his hand, he leveraged the other man's hips to push him forward, burying his fingers to the knuckles and spreading him open, as he wrapped his lips around his lover's cock once more. Jisung white-knuckle gripped the backrest, throwing his head back and crying out at the dual sensations of his cock kissing Minho's soft palette, and the fingers pressing into his prostate.

He swallowed around him before pulling back off with an audible 'pop.' "So vocal today, honey. I hope the neighbors aren't sleeping."

Jisung buried his face once again, muffled moans increasing in volume as Minho took him again, sucking at the tip this time. He worked his tongue over the head, bobbing his head back and forth slightly, as he began pumping his fingers in and out in rhythm.

As if by instinct, Jisung thrust his full length into his lover's face, the sudden intrusion causing him to gag shallowly and gasp for air. As annoyed as Minho was by this, the sound of the action was so erotic, he quickly let it go, pushing his palm harder against his lover's perineum, encouraging him to continue fucking his face. He let out a long, drawn-out moan of satisfaction as he began to move, enjoying the feeling of being in control while receiving.

Jisung's eyes rolled up in ecstasy, canting his pelvis, bottoming out against Minho's nose and grinding back against his fingers in a rhythm that felt like heaven. A little too much like heaven.

"Ohh, Min...ah-!" Without warning, his hips snapped into the others face, hard, tightly pinning his head between him and the recliner as he came down his throat with a lofty whine.

Minho sputtered, mouth spasming around Jisung's dick from the lack of air, forcing him to swallow the load so as to not choke. His head spun, overwhelmed with numerous urges, as he let his hands fall to his sides. Jisung followed the other's fingers as they exited, leaning back and allowing him to catch his breath, softening cock flopping from between his wet lips.

"...I-I'm so sorry. Love, are you oka—" Before he could finish, he's shoved onto the adjacent couch, rolling onto his stomach, legs being swung over the armrest, leaving him in an extremely vulnerable position. Propping himself up with his elbow and hand, he turned to see a very flushed, very serious Minho, looking down at him with a scalding, lidded stare underneath ruffled bangs.. His front teeth, burrowing into his bottom lip as he massaged his cock with a slicked up hand.

"Jisung..."

"I... I couldn't help it. I didn't mea—AH!" He's cut off with a thunderous smack to his rear, hard enough to leave a searing hand-shaped welt. Tears prodded at the corners of his eyes, yet this was an outcome he'd internally been hoping for all day. Minho doesn't play rough often, but when he does, his show of strength is impressive. Jisung prefers to be good for him, most of the time, just so he can savor these occasional punishments. His head spun, upper body collapsing back down onto the couch, blood rapidly returning to his dick as he's spanked again, and again, and again. Each smack, harder than the last.

He whimpered through every hit, throbbing from the intoxicating pain his lover was inflicting him with. His cock drooled down his leg as arousal spread throughout his entire body. He parted his lips to beg for mercy, but all that would come out were pitiful, raspy cries.

When he decided he had enough, Minho wordlessly grabbed and spread the other's ass, spitting over the hole before making his rough entrance, freshly lubricated cock ramming into the helpless man squirming beneath him.

Jisung gripped the side of the cushion in an attempt to brace himself as his lover drilled into him with an impressive force, his ass and thighs rippling outward with every slam of Minho's pelvis. Each thrust pushed loud, strained, pathetic moans from Jisung's lips. He'd taken him countless times before, but it was always different when he fucked like this. His speed, his power, his size. It made Jisung feel so much more helpless.

"Nhgh, b-baby—fuck—slow... slow d—... Mmmh."

He tried to protest, but every time Minho buried himself to the hilt was pure ecstasy at this angle. His sizable cock, bullying Jisung's insides as he gripped his waist, thumbs digging into his sides.

Minho's composure began to faulter when he felt Jisung's body squirm and contract with pleasure, despite how rough he was being. That, combined with the obscene noises filling the apartment, almost brought Minho over the edge right then and there. He hoarsely groaned as he gradually slowed his pace, still maintaining the same level of force as before.

"Relax, brat," he commanded through gritted teeth, intensely focused on pushing away his orgasm.

His cock was aching. He thought for sure the other could feel every single pulse that shot through it. He'd wanted to claim his lover like this for weeks. He needed to prioritize making it last.

He pulled back just enough to let his dick slide fully out, and rubbed it between the other's blushing asscheeks. He let out a hitched sigh as he regained control over his arousal, which Jisung, of course, made sure to test by grinding back against it, groaning and whimpering from the loss of stimulation.

Minho ran a hand down Jisung's back, which arched to the touch. He leaned over him to reach the back of his head, which he firmly pressed down onto, forcing it to turn to the side. Jisung stared back up at him, wide-eyed, soft lips slightly parted and wet with saliva. His expression, a combination of fear and excitement. Minho lifted a leg onto the couch to stabilize himself better at this new angle, as he repositioned himself for reentry.

"Since you seem so comfortable blowing your load, why don't I make you come some more? Over and over until you lose consciousness?"

Minho pushed himself back inside with a snap, eyes rolling for a moment from how tightly Jisung was squeezing around him, sucking him in further. "Mmnh, seems like you'd like that. No, you'd love that, wouldn't you, slut? Say it." He snapped his hips forward once more, choking a response out of the drooling mess beneath him.

"Pl-ease, ahh, Minho-ya," Jisung breathed out, rolling his hips against the other man's pelvis, cock flexing involuntarily against the armrest of the couch.

"Address me properly, slut," Minho scolded, fucking into him hard once more.

"Ahh! Please, s-sir! I want it. I'm sorry, sir. Please ruin me."

Minho groaned at the words, returning to his previous aggressive pace.

"Fuck, you sound so good when you beg. Keep going for me," he commanded, stability staggering in his voice as he gripped a fistful of Jisung's hair, pulling his head up from the couch cushion. "Let me hear you."

Tears pricked at Jisung's eyes, his body welling up with an intense mixture of emotions and deep arousal. As uncomfortable as he was in this position, he couldn't bring himself to adjust or resist. All he wanted in that moment was to be taken, completely and utterly ruined. He reveled in the vulnerability of it all. All the stress and fatigue from the previous week melted away as he cried out in broken, pleasureful sobs.

"Y-you make me f-feel so good! Please use m-me—ahh-! Break me, please! T-tear me apart! Mmh...I'll do whatever you want, sir! Fuck—make me yours," he choked out in between incoherent noises.

Minho slowed his pace a bit, laying into him harder, sending even louder sounds throughout the apartment that muffled his own moans. His thrusts, more efficient, more calculated. He brought his free hand down hard against the other's ass, gripping tightly once it made contact.

"You've always been mine, baby. Mine. I'll make sure your body remembers that. Go ahead, come for me again, slut. Make it pretty for me."

Jisung tensed, back arching even further, crying out from the painful pleasure of his cock rubbing raw against the armrest with every movement. His second orgasm tore through his body, leaving him breathlessly shuddering as goosebumps rose across his skin. His whines caught in his throat as Minho ground into him, pushing hard into his sweet spot. His body tightened around the length like a vice, earning a few deep, buttery moans from the other.

"M-min...Minho-ya..."

"That's it, baby. Fucking take it."

Before Minho's last word could leave his lips, Jisung sobbed loudly, cock dribbling pathetically down the side of the couch. Minho fucked him through it, rolling his hips back and forth slowly with intention, making sure to milk him of every last drop.

"There's my good boy," he praised, soothingly caressing his trembling lover's back while still slightly rocking his hips, fighting off his own climax. "I knew you couldn't keep him from me for long. You never did put up much of a fight."

Jisung groaned deeply, placid and spent, as the other pulled out of him, agonizingly slowly. Minho took a moment to admire how his hole gaped and twitched in his absence. He knelt down and placed a soft kiss to it, allowing his tongue to tease the rim, grabbing his ass with both hands in the process. Jisung, sensitive and whiny, squirmed against the touch.

"Ah, babe-!"

He deepened the kiss, tongue prodding deeper, as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh. Jisung responded with a breathy moan, rolling his hips down. Minho's dick throbbed almost painfully, visibly pulsing in a continuous rhythm. Still, he avoided touching it, pushing his inevitable peak back down with all his effort. He wasn't done quite yet.

"Don't lose energy yet," Minho warned, giving the other a pat on the ass as he stood. "We're not done."

Jisung slunk down the rest of the way onto the couch, curling up and pushing the bags they'd thrown earlier onto the floor. He mumbled in protest, but allowed himself to be lifted to a seated position. He flopped onto the shoulder of Minho, who seated himself next to him, resting his arms along the top of the backrest, enabling his lover to get an unobstructed view of his large, wet, pulsing length, flushed deep pink and aching for some sort of contact.

"Fuck," Jisung mused, lightly palming his soft and sensitive cock to the sight. "There's no way you haven't come yet."

"Can I be honest, Sungie?"

"Of course! What's wrong?"

"If I don't come soon, I'm going to lose my mind."

Jisung swallowed and took a breath. "...Guess I should get to work, then, yeah?"

"Pfft, get over here, dork," Minho banters, pulling his lover into his lap.

The space between them quickly closes with a deep kiss, limbs intermingling, a bit uncoordinated from them both having exerted so much energy.

After giving them both a fresh coat of lube, Jisung swayed his hips over Minho's cock, taunting him by just barely grazing the head against his entrance.

"Fffuucckk," Minho groaned. "You sure teasing me right now is a good idea?"

He gripped Jisung's hips firmly, staring into him with a blazing intensity that caused his heart to flutter. He rolled up against him in long, controlled motions, guiding the other to grind in rhythm.

Jisung balanced himself on Minho's knees, peering back at him through messy hair and lust-filled eyes.

He asked as he lined his lover up for entry, "Ready?"

Minho snickered, "Are you?"

Jisung's reply caught in his throat as he was abruptly pushed upward, the sound of colliding flesh once again reverberating throughout the room. His face contorted in pleasure, gripping the other's knees tighter, as he began to jut himself downward, rolling and arching with each thrust.

"Breathe, baby," Minho guided, taking notice of him stifling his breath, and thumbing reassuring circles onto his hip bones.

Jisung exhaled with a sigh, steadying himself on the other's heaving chest, narrowing his focus onto nothing but what he was feeling. His soft, leaking cock started twitching back to life each time their pelvises met.

Minho placed a grounding hand to his lover's cheek, directing his gaze to meet his own. He bit his lower lip, smiling slightly, studying the other's expression carefully.

"This is much better. I missed your face," he cooed.

If it were possible for Jisung to blush any deeper, he would have.

"Haha, stopppp," he giggled, turning away bashfully.

Firmly grasping Jisung's jaw, Minho directed his face back toward his own, bringing them closer together than before.

"Let me look at you. You're so pretty when you're riding me."

Grinning devilishly, he bucked his hips up harder, trying to earn every reaction possible out of the other.

"So handsome when I'm fucking you."

The sincere praise juxtaposed with the intense railing made Jisung's mind go fuzzy. His eyes fluttered shut as his body contracted, overstimulated and overexerted. He couldn't contain his vocalizations any longer, pouring out all the pleasure he had been experiencing that night.

Minho tightened the grip he had on his jaw.

"Jisung. Look at me."

He moaned in satisfaction as their gaze met once again. He could have come that second, but mustering any and all willpower he had, he held back, just so he could savor the scene—and what a scene it was. Jisung's sweat-slick body, his flexed abs, his shiny pecs bouncing, his fully placid, fucked-out expression—it was all so insanely hot. Minho never felt more in control as he released his hand, dropping it onto the other's thigh. He slowed his thrusts, the buildup teetering on unbearable. Jisung compensated by quickening his own pace, chasing that deep pressure Minho had been providing.

"Yeah... j-just like that," Minho groaned out. "Fuck, you're so perfect."

Jisung's mouth hung permanently agape, pushing out various uncontrolled utterances as he held onto Minho's chest for dear life, legs shaking violently.

"Are you close again, baby," Minho whispered in between wrecked exhalations, composure completely slipping away.

"I... I-I don't know i-if I can do it," Jisung whimpered, a breathy rasp lacing every vowel.

"You can, and you will."

Keeping one hand on the other's thigh to steady the shaking, Minho wrapped the other around Jisung's weeping, half-hard dick, and began stroking him, fast and firm, applying pressure with the heel of his palm onto the underside of the tip.

"You're gonna finish with me, got that?"

Jisung's voice raised an octave, moaning out and swearing as the overstimulation intensified. Finally breaking eye contact, he leaned his head against the other's shoulder, unable to hold himself upright. His hips sputtered, legs giving out. He began lazily grinding down, focus dissipating into a cloud of agonizing ecstacy.

"Come on, baby," Minho reassured, pulling him back up by the hair. "You can do it. Just one more for me. Don't forget how much you begged for this."

Jisung's eyes rolled back open, eyelids fluttering involuntarily, as Minho increased speed, determined to draw his lover's third orgasm out by force. He resumed his previous rutting, clenching his jaw with effort as his own orgasm began pooling in the pit of his abdomen.

In an effort to mentally ground himself, Jisung carefully observed the other's visage; the way his masseter bulged out as his jaw tightened, the veins protruding from his temple, furrowed brows above pleading eyes, rosy lips begging to meet his own, beads of sweat perfectly framing an even more perfect face. This is truly the sexiest man he's ever seen.

At that point, all it took was one final command for him to unravel.

"Jisung-ah. Now."

Shuddering, he returned eye contact, letting out a beautiful cry as he painted Minho's stomach in a couple light, but strong spurts.

Almost simultaneously, Minho's back arched, burying himself deep inside with a grunt. He exhaled sharply through gritted teeth as he thoroughly coated Jisung's insides, bucking his pelvis up in desperate, uncontrolled movements.

They both moaned in response to watching the other come, stilling once their peaks had begun their descent. They remained in those positions for a moment; their elevated breathing being the only sound in the apartment.

Jisung, exhausted, rolled back onto the couch, pulling the other on top of him in an embrace. Minho smiled warmly, combing his fingers through the hair of the cutie beneath him, flushed with afterglow.

"I hope you got enough, because I don't think I can come again for another year," Jisung breathed, slinging his arms over his lover's shoulders.

Minho laughed, placing a warm smooch to his forehead. "I was holding back for so long, I don't think I can either."

They exchange laughter in the calm of the dimly lit living room, returning to their usual silly selves. They lay there in the quiet, snuggling for a few minutes.

Jisung was the first to break the silence. "Babe?"

Minho replied, groggy, face buried in his chest, "Yeah, honey..."

"No guarantees I won't mess with you again on stage tomorrow, just saying."

"Now you're just asking for trouble," he groaned, muffled by plush pectorals.

"Always," Jisung chuckled, ruffling the other's hair.

They lay in silence for another moment.

Minho breaks it once again, lifting his head, "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

"You love me."

"I do."

Jisung beamed, holding him tightly. Minho rolled his eyes, smiling still, and put his hand over the other's face.

"Stop being so cute," he griped, rolling off of him to stand.

"Shall I hide my face forever?"

"Yes, I think the world would thank you," Minho bantered as he headed to the kitchen.

"Where did you gooooooo," Jisung whined from the couch, hands flailing toward the direction in which the other left.

"I'm right here," he responded, voice echoing through the under-sink cabinet he'd shoved his head into.

He returned with a couple of dampened rags and disinfectant spray, and a bottle of water for Jisung.

"Now let's get you cleaned up and in bed before you ruin my couch," he poked, handing the bottle and a rag to Jisung.

"Our couch is fine," he chuckled, sitting up and wiping himself down.

Minho smiled, shaking his head as he took care of the mess on the other's legs. "Whatever you say, sunshine. Now come on, it's getting late. I'll tidy up out here so it's not as much of a mess to deal with in the morning."

"You're the best, babe," Jisung spoke through a yawn, stretching before rising onto unsteady legs. "Whose bed, tonight?"

"Mine, your room's a mess," Minho half-joked, patting him on the butt as he passed.

"No, it's not," he exclaimed dramatically as he headed toward his bathroom, probably a bit too loud for the hour it was.

"Like I said, pain in the ass!"

"Love you, too!"

"Love you more, dummy!"

After briefly rinsing off, the two met back in Minho's bedroom. Minho hadn't bothered to put clothes on, just climbed into bed with what energy he had left. Jisung plopped beside him in black and red plaid pajama pants. He joked about being overdressed, Minho joked about missing his butt, things were back to normal. Jisung put on a movie they'd both seen dozens of times, and they silently watched, snuggled up underneath the blankets, legs tangled, hearts thrumming, simply enjoying the closeness. As the movie ended and they began to drift off, it felt like time stood still, like the world was quiet for just a moment. That was, until both of their phones went off at once, rudely interrupting their blissful moment.

"Ugh, that must be the group chat," Jisung grumbled, reaching for his phone, which was plugged in on the nightstand.

"What does it say," Minho asks, too lazy to check for himself.

Jisung squinted at the bright screen in the dark, alternating between moving it closer and further as his eyes adjusted.

"Looks like Channie-hyung never made it home?"

"He didn't go home with Iyen?"

"He said he left dinner by himself—the guys all went out after the schedule—and hyung hasn't been answering his phone."

Minho finally sat up and felt around in the dark for his phone that had slipped somewhere down the bedspread. "I'll try calling him. Why did Iyen leave alone? They didn't have their bodyguards with them?"

"I just asked. He's typing."

A few tense seconds passed before Jeongin responded.

"So, they were at a private buffet," Jisung paused to read the rest of the message. "Hyunjin got too drunk, and Channie, being the most sober, offered to help Changbin-hyung take him home. Sounds like none of them are responding. Jeongin assumed he would be home by the time he got there."

Minho's expression shifted more serious. "Yeah, Chan isn't picking up, I'll try Binnie."

"I'm honestly worried. This isn't like them... not Channie, at least."

A few more tense seconds passed. They both held their breath as they heard the dial tone come to an abrupt stop. Minho quickly put the call on speaker.

"Bin-ah?"

"...Hey," Changbin responds, sounding a bit hoarse, but otherwise alive. "I see the group chat now. Sorry to worry you guys."

"It's okay. Where's hyung?"

"He's here at our place. He wanted to make sure Jinnie was okay. He... he's tired. He's crashing here for tonight. I'm taking him home in the morning."

"Okay... Well, you should tell Jeongin right now, he seems really worried."

"Already texted him," Jisung interjected.

"Ah, Jisung-ah! Whatsssup," Changbin slurred, clearly still a little less than sober.

"Hi, hyung! You're definitely still drunk, haha."

"...Huh? Yeah..." A distant 'Hi, Hannie~' can be heard from Hyunjin over the speaker.

"Is that Hyunjin," Minho pipes up. "Hyunjin-ah! Hope you guys had fun. Take it easy next time, okay?"

Sounding a little closer to the mic, Hyunjin replies, "I will! Everything's fine now."

"Get some sleep, you two," Jisung chimes, placing his phone back on the nightstand after relaying everything to Jeongin.

"Glad everything's alright. Tell Chan-ah to call me in the morning," Minho suggested, hovering over the End Call button.

"Okay, goodniigghtt," Changbin sang in English before quickly hanging up.

Minho handed his phone to Jisung to plug in next to his, slinking back down under the covers.

"That was... weird," Minho chuckled, awkwardly.

Jisung gave an awkward laugh in response. "It's been a weird day, altogether."

"Heh, It has, hasn't it?" Minho wrapped a secure arm around the other, pulling him closer.

"Something in the air, I guess."

"Definitely something."

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"When you're glued to the screen for work or looking at tiktoks I don't say anything to you"

"You little liar, you do."

You leave your phone on the table and concentrate on whatever Chan is talking about. After about 20 minutes, he goes back into his monologue about his job until you both get distracted by the glow of your phone screen.

You could read in the notifications the name of your classmate liking your cappuccino stories.

"It seems like he is... Insistent doesn't it?"

"I'm about to freak out but I think blocking him and then seeing him back in class is going to be really awkward." You raised your hands to your head, a little distressed about the scenario you just created in your mind. "It's awkward because you make it awkward"

You were about to argue until an idea crossed your mind. "What if I make him uncomfortable?" "What?" He looked confused, a expression that prompted me to elaborate

"I want to make him uncomfortable so he won't talk to me or stalk me"

"And how do you plan to do it, silly?"

You smiled sweetly as your hands cradle the side of your head and stared innocently at Chan. "You know you scare me when you don't blink?"

"Chan... Channie... Chris"

"What do you want?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Nothing bad, just a small favor. Insignificant really."

"Why don't I believe you?" He knew you too well. You chuckle, it was really entertaining to see him like this. "Because you are mean to me, you didn't even let me fully elaborate on what I was gonna ask you!"

"I already know it's probably stupid, but hey, ask away."

"Can you take pictures with me pretending to be my boyfriend?"

Your friend laughs before taking a sip of his coffee. “I knew it was going to be something stupid.”

"Put your arm around my shoulder, do it naturally!"

"Why the hell did I agree to this?"

"Because you love me" I look at him through the mirror with an innocent smile

"Nah, I don't think that's it" He wrinkles his nose as he scoffs. Stupid. "I will charge you for this favor"

I ignore everything he says and keep taking photos. After about 7 takes you were satisfied... Or so you thought until you saw Chan lying on the couch and the gears in your head started moving again.

"Take off your shirt, now."

"What? A coffee first, don't you think?" He laughs as he obeys and takes off his shirt revealing his toned torso, puts his hands behind your head and lies back down. "You know? I think I know you well enough that I can tell what your next move is."

You climb onto his abdomen and take photos while putting one hand on his abs and pretending to scratch them.

"I'd be worried if you couldn't meet me after all these years, Channie..." You scoff a little after taking the last photo and showing the screen to Chan. "look!"

He stares at the screen in silence for a few seconds as he holds you by your thighs while you are still sitting on top of his hips. "I like them... Was that the last photo?" He murmurs in a tone that you can't decipher but that sends a slight current down your spine. "Mhm, yes. Why?"

"Then I'm going to charge you for doing this" Before you could think, Chan had grabbed your thighs and flipped you over so that your back was lying on the couch and he was on top of you, positioned between your legs. "I was going to ask you for a normal favor in return but after seeing you so comfortable on top of me I decided I want something else."

"Wait, what?" His smile grew bigger as he caressed the outside of your thighs and his hands began to travel north until they settled on your hips. "What you heard babe, you're sexy when you're on top of me... But you can be sexier down there, right?"

"C'mon... Let me collect my favor, I assure you that you will love it" Your breath hitched as you felt his lips on your neck, kissing your skin slowly. His hands gently squeezed your hips as he trailed kisses to your mouth. "Your skin tastes like honey, What will your lips taste like?"

"Try them" you tease in a mischievous tone. You're not going to waste this opportunity. Chan is your friend and you don't believe there's love there but you're not blind. Chan has sex appeal... And lots of it.

Your tease works as Chan moves closer to take your lips in a needy kiss. His hands slip under your shirt and up to your breasts.

"No bra? Dirty girl" he teases as he breaks away from the kiss and plays with your nipples between his fingers. You don't stay behind and unbuckle his belt and pants. "Shut up"

They both take off each other's clothes and throw them on the floor while the kisses and touching become more intense. The smacking sounds of Chan's lips moving down your stomach fill the room. You tangle your fingers in his hair as he blows his hot breath on your core. "baby look at this" He rubs his thumb across your folds and makes slow circles on your clit. "Fuck- How can you get me so wet, honey?"

You tried to stifle moans by biting your index finger. "Shut up" "Do you want me to shut up? Fine" Chan's mischievous smile didn't last long in your sight as he was quick to sink his mouth into your wet core. He ate you like licking you was the cure for his hunger. Your orgasm built and came to you as he gave your clit his attention again making you cum as you looked at some strands of his hair and he held your hips with his hands to keep eating you until you are clean.

Before you knew it, he was on top of you again, pressing himself against you with a dark look on his face, like an animal that has already hunted its prey. "Don't think I'm done with you yet, but I want to know if you want it too"

"Damn, yeah" The answer came out of your mouth automatically, without thinking. But who needs to think when you can just focus on him?

"You're so needy" in a normal situation you would stay with your friend making fun of you. But you can't come up with a clever retort when the head of his cock slowly sinks into your pussy and then pulls out leaving you wanting more. "Please" "Just because you asked nicely baby"

"Mhm yes" Your pussy gladly welcomes Chan's cock. He's buried to the hilt and it feels amazing but it's nothing compared to when he starts with slow but hard thrusts.It doesn't take long for both of them to want more and Chan doesn't hold back with his next thrusts. "You squeeze me so good, so good baby. This pussy is perfect for me, don't you think? Would you let me use it often?" You nod as you hook your feet together on his hips, your mind clouding with pleasure. "Look at you, you can't think and take a cock at the same time?" You can't give a verbal response as his thrusts build another orgasm for you.

"I want to hear your words" Chan demands as he takes one of your tits in his hand and squeezes it. "I... I can't... I'm close" "My slut can't talk?". His name barely slips from your lips when he lets go of your breast and slaps it before doing the same to your other breast.

Your orgasm washes over you quickly as your pussy and breasts are stimulated by your friend, not to mention the dirty words that ignite something inside you when he says them. Before Chan cums he pulls out of you and uses his hand to pump himself and cum on your abdomen leaving white stripes on your skin.

They both smile as they catch their breaths. "Are you satisfied with your favor now?" "Absolutely darling, so let me know when you want more photos. You know my price."

He feels it pierce him. Quietly, like a dagger in the dark. Something slides through with a gasp that makes his ribs ache. Martyn needs to steady himself against the coarse wood of a redwood more ancient than any noble house still living or perhaps even the ruins he finds himself isolated at. 

An unspoken vow, promises of the dead and dreaming, keeps him unsteady and transfixed. 

The gaze is unrelenting. Brutal in its utter lack of mercy. Martyn can feel it in the back of his knees, pressing inwards like it’s trying to force him down - is forcing him down. 

A ghost of a hand settles over his neck, its presence so faint Martyn mistakes it for a nightly chill or his own body’s sudden weakness. But it’s there like a band of wrought iron delicate on his neck, something pointed tracing the median of veins and muscles with unholy precision. 

There are eyes on him. That much becomes certain. He should be more alarmed, eyes in the dark are never good: but Martyn’s breath does not rise in panic nor does he run for the distant light of the camp that might provide refuge. These eyes are not the disinterested, accidental gaze of the moon upon. It is deeply purposeful, and crawling across him how a predator’s eyes devour prey. 

In an instant, Martyn feels as if he is being hunted. It is looming behind him in the shadows, jointly bathing in red, awash with sanguine splendor. Martyn does not run, because he cannot run. He does not want to run - that should frighten him.

“Isn’t it beautiful, darling?” It is. Haunting in its serenity, beautiful in its fatality. Martyn finds himself all too easily agreeing with the words caressing his mind like a knife of velvet - soft and comforting while carving pieces of him away. “That’s it, just keep that pretty head of yours tilted high. Bask in it, in what you are becoming, what you really are.” Each word sinks into him like a spear until Martyn feels the little vestiges of himself bleeding out to mix with the mud his knees are sinking in. 

A shiver races down his spine: it feels good to listen. It shouldn’t. Martyn knows - he knows some part of him recognises that the insidious web he is becoming snared in will offer no true respite from the dark: it will only further the desecration of this land. But the allure of it, the fog that filled his mind was too almost too pleasant to resist. 

“No, that’s not-” Each syllable comes as its own herculean labour but Martyn wills his mouth to more, to object, to strain against-

“It’s so much easier to give in my sweet, you know this. Don’t fret, I’ll never abandon you like daddy did.” The saccharine certainty of the voice plays over an echo of the crushing feeling in his chest when the carriage pulled away into the woods forever; Martyn can’t find the strength to resist the added weight forcing him down. 

The vampire’s eyes [and he knows it to be that vampire] bear down on him like physical things until Martyn is kneeling - more like falling, as if a stage door suddenly erected swallows him whole. Twin blood moons, the ones that enrapture him so effortlessly float in human shaped eyes that are not human. 

Their beauty is sublime - magnificent and pulchritudinous; staggering in the allure of the scarlet swirl that inspire sensations of such captivation and overwhelming grandeur that they will no doubt inspire poems and songs for centuries after Oakhurst returns to the dirt. Their beauty is sublime - terrible and insurmountable; the passage of time has done nothing to dull a hunger so ravenous, so veracious,  that it cannot help but consume Martyn’s entire existence as a morsel. A blink and he could be forgotten.  

The enormity of their presence, of their beauty, of their horror seizes him in overwhelming awe. 

How could such eyes not enrapture - not overwhelm one’s senses of mortality that they leave one on their knees in the mud, still staring at the moon reflecting the hungering gaze of the vampire behind him downwards, crushing any resistance beneath like a heel on his neck. 

Piercing and dangerous and suffocating, Scott’s eyes weigh down his shoulders and torturously force them slack. There is no calm in Oakhurst, not while creatures like Scott roam the night. Some last echo of his humanity knows this: tries to strain against the weight, against the exertion of a dark, holy will. He tries to resist. Tries. The futility of it creases the vampire's eyes with amusement. 

He Fails. As he does. As mortals do. Shoulders slack, calves in the mud, Martyn feels more like a puddle than a man.

Martyn is completely enraptured between them. Sinking beneath the horrific beauty of the blood moons - of Scott’s eyes - gazing down at him. It should be alarming. The blood moon is an ill omen of something dark infiltrating the land, infiltrating him, but Martyn can’t help but be overcome by a violent, numbing, calm beneath Scott’s gaze. 

II. Enthrall

Lost in the woods again like he is a boy, like Daddy’s carriage is abandoning him again, Martyn wonders the dark of his own mind with no definitive end.  

And out of the maroon tinted darkness of the material-world, shadows twist and swell until they constitute the form of one of Oakhurst’s most ancient and terrible occupants. 

Martyn opens his mouth to speak,to  scream, or just because Scott’s dark majesty inspires such reaction - because it feels right. Feels right to let his jaw go slack as Scott leans over him, swallowing him in the dark. All so a claw can press beneath like a blade and tilt his gaze to be consumed by the undead’s visage.

“Sco-” Martyn croaks out, or a branch is snapped by a woodland critter. The noises are hauntingly similar. 

“Shhh you know you can trust me sapling. I have your best interests at heart after all, so you will trust me,” Scott speaks with a methodical slowness that might seem insulting to some - like Martyn cannot understand three simple utterances. Each word is like a beat of his heart: languid, pumping around his body until it fills every artery and capillary and organ with its assertion. Scott knows what’s best for Martyn. He said so himself. 

Bloody eyes gleam as those little truths settle into him [he can trust Scott, he has Martyn’s best interests at heart, he will trust Scott] and the embers of resistance clinging to kindling are extinguished. His eyes become glassy like polished jewels without the luster, and heavy. So very heavy, it’s hard to keep looking at Scott, but Martyn can’t look away. 

Low fog rolls into his mind, swarming and swirling around Martyn until the trees are faint smudges and the only thing his mind can perceive with any clarity is Scott. 

The claw at his lip drags slowly from one end to another like a metronome. A thumb unworn by age, time, and the trivialities of life brushes tender left to right - right to left - left to right. The rhythm is steadily soothing. Skin so flawless should feel uncanny, but Martyn can only find comfort in it as his eyes remain indentured to Scott’s, letting the vampire’s hold of his mind be cast in chains that might never break.

“That’s it sapling, remember your place, remember your master. You are simply a thrall. My thrall. My will is yours, and your body is mine.” Scott’s words, honeyed as venom, keep to the beat orchestrated by the metronomic thumb against his lips and Martyn can feel himself sway and mumble something that gets swallowed by the night. 

An echo of something dark and terrible boils Martyn’s blood for but a moment - this isn’t the first time, and it will most certainly not be the last with the wayScott’s eyes gleam. But it passes, as do all things. Such trifling thoughts have no place in the mind of a dutiful, subservient thrall. 

Through his half lidded eyes, hazy and glazing over, Martyn can only perceive of Scott as the night. He surrounds him, inspires awe and fear, and will swallow him in the darkness as quickly as a wolf's jaws close around a hare. 

He is the night.

And the night is swallowing Martyn. Has swallowed Martyn. The night owns Martyn’s body, his heart, his everything.

“Open up, tongue out thrall.” Martyn’s mouth moves before his brain can even process half of what Scott says, the words slow and sticky as they trudge through the thick miasma filling his head. His tongue rolls out and all the saliva he didn’t realise was bubbling up spills out past Scott’s thumb bearing down on his bottom lip.

Scott’s eyes narrow, a twitch of something veering dangerously close to irritation, but there’s still a confident elation haunting his face as he watches Martyn drool into his lap. “Just as messy as ever thrall, why am I not surprised,” Martyn starts to make a strangled noise, his master’s mild disappointment - that is his master and he is simply a thrall - is a noose around him that keeps his breathing tight and his head light and fuzzy. 

“You truly are unfit to be a lordling with all this mess, do they not teach manners in your dilapidated house?” The mocking bite in Scott’s voice clamps around his neck, enough that he can feel his arteries throb - even in this state of submission he can see the slight focusing of Scott’s eyes as his blood thrums with the overwhelming desire to submit. To have Scott taste him, as all Thrall desires.

Somehow, even amongst the blood stained night, Scott’s eyes are still stark and refuse to blend into the red awash over Oakhurst and something about that keeps Martyn so comfortably smothered in the mire of his control. His entire focus hanging on him Martyn’s arms, already heavy at his side and sullying his frilled cuffs in the lichenous mud of the land, become anchors that keep him in place as Scott presses the tips of his fingers against his tongue.

“Much better suited for a thrall anyhow, a mindless, obedient thrall.” A gargled whine of a noise rises from him like his throat is being slit.

The way the other hand rises and lingers in the purgatory between his jaw and neck, taking him with the confident possessiveness of knowing just how enthralled Martyn is an elation quite indescribable. 

To Martyn, it just feels right. To be owned. To obey. To give Scott everything.

It feels right to be taken by his master so easily. 

Scott’s fingers taste like death. Dark and bitter wisps cling to his fingers, an unnatural chill permeating his existence, and the harshness of iron on Martyn’s palette almost makes him wretch. But he can feel his cock throb, his cheeks flush, and his soul yearn for more with each slow drag of the fingers from the tip of his tongue to the precipice of his throat.

He’s helpless. Utterly helpless beneath Scott’s wandering touch. And that feels right, it feels good. 

The pressure of the fingers against his tongue is subtly immense, gently encouraging him deeper while the sharp tips of his claws threaten to carve valleys into his tongue that will leave his mouth running red.

The warmth in his cheeks feels like a roaring forest fire next to the bitter chill of Scott’s hand, as three of his fingers crowd into his mouth and take ownership as easily as he has taken the rest of him. 

The defiant him, the vampire investigator and determined human that resides in the inky black depths of his soul is telling him to bite. Screaming at him to clamp and tear as the vampire’s claws tap against his molars with a confidence that he knows Martyn won’t bite. 

He’ll be good. He is good. Even as Scott appraises him like livestock, or, a pet.

He could fit more, he wants to fit more. Please Scott - that’s all he wants. Wants Scott to be cruel and to laugh at his miseries if it would please him, demand everything from him, damn him to the dark where the things not named lurk and consume lost mindless thralls. 

Martyn doesn’t hide his wants, eyes watering and glazed as they remain on Scott, shuddering when his lips curl in that cruelly pleased way enough to flash the alabaster monolith of a fang. He seems pleased. That makes Martyn feel good, makes his heart soar his mind fuzzy and intangible. 

“Oh darling, if only you could see yourself, so perfect like this - no more needless hunts and investigations,” Martyn tries to lap and suck, as if suddenly aware of himself as a person. Trying to will himself to be more than a plaything for Scott, his clumsy showcase earns a laugh so short and so dripping schadenfreude that Martyn feels it resonates in the base of his spine. “Just a pretty lordling under heel, helpless without daddy,” Martyn whines, fizzling with pain in the back of his throat, hips too heavy to move, while the fingers dancing in spiral on his tongue have him sinking deeper and deeper, little echoing gargles of pleasure bubbling upwards to kiss his master’s claws.

Each drag is another tantalising burst of pleasure through him like a hot poker. He can feel his briefs becoming increasingly damp as his cock twitches and throbs at the vampire’s claws become sloppy and increasingly possessive of his tongue, his mouth, of him.

“But it feels so good to be helpless, doesn't it pet, to submit completely and utterly to your master.” Scott is right. Scott is always right. The way he can do nothing to stop Scott as the tips of his fingers cross and drip into his throat, making him gag and his eyes brim with tears, feels right. 

The forest air swims with lewd slick sounds as Martyn’s saliva drips past his lips and coats the vampire's claws like a well fitted glove. Whimpers and desperate moans flutter into the air like fireflies only to be snuffed out by something dark and terrible. Scott’s eyes can barely contain their hunger, and Martyn, ever desperate and dutiful, finds his gut swimming with delight when he feels Scott’s claws press into his jaw and neck as if threatening to hook his vein like errant threads and pull him loose. The harsh edges digging into him, blood rushing, makes his ear’s ring all while Scott’s claws greedily seizes his tongue.

With a low bestial purr lost in the underbrush, Scott’s middle claw drags down his tongue, carving a deep valley that floods Martyn’s mouth with his own blood. Pain blossoms loose and wild like unkempt roses yet he finds himself taking it freely with mere a flinch. If anything, he forces his mouth just that little wider, so effortlessly helpless to resist the vampire’s carnally crimson appetite. 

The damp of Oakhurst air is infiltrated by the pleasantly harsh smell of freshly spilt blood, and as soon as Scott catches the scent, his eyes hone to precise pinpricks of crimson.

“Rise,” Scott commands, voice threateningly low, and despite how heavy his limbs are, Martyn is up and pinned to a tree in an instance by a vampire hungrily licking into his mouth for an appetiser before he can pant for breath. The harsh metallic taste floods his mouth for but a moment before Scott’s tongue effortlessly claims Martyn’s mouth as his own domain, smothering him in his insurmountable presence. 

The harshness of his own mortality running red down his tongue is subsumed by the artful fragrance clinging to Scott’s pallid skin - rich and ancient enough to dance through Martyn’s mind like a ballroom - and by the dreadfully pleasant chill stark against the warmth of his still beating heart. 

To some ]Martyn cannot really imagine, there is not much of a mind to do anything but obey] one might imagine that having a beast lick into your mouth might feel a touch demanding, humiliating even. But to Martyn, so fuzzy and numb, the claiming of his mouth in hungering, savouring, laps of his master’s tongue can exist as intense pleasure that threatens to cracks his ribs open and have his organs spilling out in waves of red so long it would follow him like the train of a blood-soaked wedding dress. 

The dance of Scott’s tongue is more elegant, more artful, than any waltz Martyn would have learned if he remained a silly little lordling. The lapping strokes swim amidst a sea of ill-formed pitiful noises of mortal pleasure, leaving a chill so biting and complete that it crawls into him, seizes him the inside out. 

The sensation is immense, Scott’s presence, his tongue on him and in him, leaving him captivated and paralysed by a horrifically pleasurable dance that Martyn cannot conceive of breaking tempo. 

If he could, he would want to lift his arms and hold Scott, run through his hair and cup his face. But his arms are above his head, pinned to a tree that creaks and whines whenever Scott leans in and hungrily gulps down the slick mess of Martyn’s spit and blood binding together on their tongues like a marriage. It’s not about what he wants. And every time that is made clear, Martyn can feel himself twitch and strain against his confines: abiding his nature, rewarding him with pleasantries unfound in mortal realms. 

Shudders and moans sneak past their lips, pained little gasps from Scott being none too gentle with the cut, as if twisting deeper into a wound, forcing another gush of crimson into Martyn’s mouth to be hungrily gulped down. 

Martyn’s breath is seized by Scott’s mouth. The fleeting moments of respite for his lungs to fill before every breath is seized in his hungering maw. If he wasn’t already floating, head fuzzy, and spilling out a broken choirs-worth of moans, Scott’s ravenously licking into his mouth and swallowing his breath and blood and spit as veraciously as he is would certainly get him there. 

Pain, pleasure, all subsumes beneath the feeling of fuzzy satisfaction in serving his master.

III. Entomb

“Present.” It’s a simple command. One that infests Martyn’s entire being like a plague. Spoken on whispers of the grave as strands of saliva and blood tie their mouths together like slick chains of gore: Martyn tilts his neck, unable to hide the quiet elation rushing through him after Scott artfully removes his cravat in a single precise motion.

He should feel some sick shame in offering himself up so easily to the enemy, in how Scott’s claws brushing against his skin as he widens his collar makes shivers run up and down his back like an energetic dog, but he doesn’t. He feels good. He feels fuzzy, and cozy, and warm, and the most relaxed he’s been since coming to Oakhurst… all because he is a good thrall, and this is what good thralls do.

Scott’s hand tangles in the dark mantle, a claw catching underneath and tearing a thin line in his shirt, and Martyn expects the other to join but instead it cradles his head tenderly. The tender claws of a killer drags across his scalp, the soothing touch haunting Martyn’s mind - this is the first time Scott has ever taken him like this: letting his claws get lost in the roots and flow of Martyn’s tarnished gold hair. 

For a moment, he feels as if he could float away under Scott’s appraising eyes - pupils dilating with Martyn still wet on his lips. A warm rush of anticipation flutters through his deathly breath which makes Martyn’s skin crawl and his head lull weightlessly into Scott’s palm. Scott is never warm. It’s strange. Warmth is lost to vampires of Scott’s age. Martyn’s too fuzzy to think of what that could mean.

“Sco-cott…” Scott’s claw drags idly behind his ear and Martyn breath is gruff and loose as that silly errant thought flutters from his head.

“Yes my sapling?” 

Martyn pauses, rivulet of drool swirling with crimson dribble down his chin. What was he - there was something important - but, it’s all so fuzzy now. So hard to think with the taste of Scott still staining his mouth. “I… I forgot,” Martyn mumbles leaning into the familiar deathly and finding comfort in his master’s pressence.

Scott chuckles, elegant condescension that makes his cheeks burn. “Oh dear, that’s too many thoughts for my pretty thrall. We can’t be having that now, can we?” Martyn shakes his head, or tries to: his head rolls around Scott’s palm and he can’t tell if it's his own motion or one Scott puppeteers. 

And then, Scott’s fangs sink into him. No fanfare, for none is needed, this is what Martyn is for. 

A sudden rush, the sheathing of a blade in its scabbard, and Scott’s fangs fit so perfectly into his neck. It feels hauntingly familiar. Have they done this before? Martyn can’t remember. 

A quick sharp pain pierces him, like two icicles stabbing into him and panic seizes him: the trained human response rushes to breach the surface of the fuzzy sea that is submerging him, gasping for breath and purchase to pull him from the whirlpool. There is nothing but the night. Scott bears down on him and drags Martyn back down with a shuddering, gasp of a moan wrung out of him like blood from a cloth. 

But the panic quickly fades into a throbbing numbness that seeps into his blood, and into his bones. His breath catches and Scott’s jaw clamps tighter to grasp it. A numbing buzz fills his inner ears as Scott holds the breath captive and enjoys the trampling rush of Martyn’s blood through his body. 

Martyn’s head swims with a rush of bliss as Scott sinks until his lips, bloody and slick, are flush against his skin. Cradling his head, Scott digs deep into his thrall and releases the vice on his airway, delighting at the trample of moans that spill from Martyn. 

Whining into the night, into Scott, Martyn feels his blood racing, heart thumping, cock throbbing and racing with arousal: and yet he remains blissfully relaxed, lips loose, and head delightfully empty. 

There’s a certain intoxication about the way Scott’s fang sink into him: stinging into his muscles, brushing against his veins like a lover’s caress, greedily taking everything that Martyn has to offer and he let’s him take and take and take until the colour and luster of his skin begins to fade. Because it feels good when Scott takes, makes his head swim, and his oh so heavy eyes roll back on themselves, mouth hanging open as the most whimpering squeals of livestock being slaughtered spill into the night. Scott drinks those as ardently as the blood lavishing his tongue and filling his stomach. 

Martyn sees the vibrancy of satisfaction begin to flood into Scott's eyes, a gleam of praise as his blood lingers on his lips. He feels an immense pride swell in his chest at being a good thrall, at serving his master - feeding him to full strength.

The feeling of his blood flowing between them, the two swirling within one another, is maddeningly arousing. If he could, he would cling to Scott. But he just stands there like a good boy, ignoring how his knees are about to give out, or how his heart is racing but he’s oh so cold as Scott saps the warmth from his body - takes his life with a savouring hunger that has Martyn cumming in his pants. 

He is entombed by Scott: by his touch, his scent, his fangs bleeding him dry, by his own body submitting and making itself feeble and malleable. But more than anything physical, the ghosts of commands fluttering across like nascent butterflies seal Martyn forever in his grasp once more. 

Entrench these words into your mind, thrall. Entomb them as your divine commandments into every facet of your life.

When I snap my fingers, you sink. 

When I snap my fingers twice, you sink and present your neck. 

When I snap my fingers three times, you will cum instantly. 

When the blood moon rises, you will enter trance, but you will still feel yourself sinking as if you aren't already mine.

Whenever someone calls you a good boy, your cock will throb and leak. 

If you try to stake me, you will instantly enter trance for the rest of the night.

You will forget that you have been entombed by these commandments. 

Gibberish spills forth. He desperately wants to agree but can’t. Wants Scott to know he understands. But Scott doesn’t need him to speak to know the words have sunk into him as deep as his fangs. His head is too fuzzy, and what little cognition is there is brutally seized by an orgasm crashing into his frail body. His cock throbs so hard Martyn feels it in his head, in the base of his skull like a migraine. Thick strands of cum spurting into the mess of pre and coating his cock in his own mess, soaking into the fabric.

By the time Scott pulls back, hunger satiated, and a smile on his face Martyn is just about a person, more so an echo of one. Blood stains his shirt like metal flecks and shaving embedding into him, cock rubbing uncomfortably against the fabric as the last beat of his orgasm oozes out of him, his cheeks burning but paradoxically cool at the same time. 

“Good thrall, mindless obedient thrall. You are wasting away playing hunter, playing human,” Scott remarks, thumb wiping the spilt blood from pallid skin with a satisfied smirk. Martyn almost shatters when Scott kisses his thumb clean. 

Martyn looks more like a corpse than the actual undead. And he couldn’t be happier.

However, before he can become intimately acquainted with the dirt, his head finds Scott’s shoulder and a soothing hand down his spine to lull him impossibly deep. “It’s okay sapling, find your roots in the earth, deep breath, and come sunrise, you’ll come back to yourself,” the vampire’s words are the last vestige of the night, like fire flies in the dark, something to guide and comfort him as he floats in the comforting absence of the void. 

The world echoes in a soft ripple through the abyss of his mind. “But you will always come back to me as well, my thrall.” 

Come sunrise, he too rises. 

Returning to himself in the resplendent dreary daylight of Oakhurst, Martyn finds himself aching as if he’s fought a battle, his briefs are soiled, and a lingering dreadful embarrassment gnaws at his bones feverishly. He had wandered into the woods and… he does not even want to question what has led him to have such a mess soaking into his last good pair of briefs and threatening to crawl down his thigh. 

Martyn does not remember it, but Scott is true to his word. A shadow clings to the shade, and watches him stir and raise. Elation fills his chest at Martyn’s commiseration of his misfortune awakening, how he is so blissfully unaware how deep the vampire’s fangs are still in him.

“See you soon, sweet thrall,” is but a whisper on the wind, caressing Martyn’s neck as he tries to make his way back to camp muttering to himself trying to a summon a credible excuse for his disappearance and the mess sticky and gross in his pants that wouldn’t make him look like some sort cheeky little vampire.