#sumsik

All is silent in the xikers dorms. Today is a rare day off now that Red Sun promotions are over, so the members have decided to spend it accordingly. Minjae and Yechan have gone off to the studio, Junmin and Hunter are in the practice room helping Hyunwoo sharpen his dance skills, Seeun has dragged Yujun out with their manager for a day hitting the malls, and Junghoon is at another rehab appointment. This just leaves the two lovebirds Sumin and Jinsik together in the dorm for some long-awaited alone time. 

Their morning was spent curled in each other’s arms, the ever-disciplined Sumin slipping into Jinsik's room and bed as soon as his usual morning alarm had gone off. Jinsik had turned his own alarm off the night before, so they got to sleep in and dream of each other until almost noon. Sumin had made brunch for them after they woke up, and they ate together before going out for a walk around town. 

They’ve since returned home and are nestled on the couch together, enjoying the silence and each other’s company… Until Jinsik breaks the silence.

"You know yeobo, I'm starting to get a little tired of always having to obey you." 

Sumin's hand doesn't stop petting Jinsik's hair, nor does Jinsik lift his head out of Sumin's lap. Jinsik does, however, roll over just a little so he can look Sumin in the eye. He's met with a casual raised eyebrow.

"Do you mean in general or in bed?" Sumin is calm as ever. That's what Jinsik loves about him, he never escalates based on assumptions, always talks things out until they're clear with him. Jinsik is so lucky.

"In bed," Jinsik answers. He schools his face into a pout despite how much he wants to smile instead; he has to show Sumin that he's serious, after all! "I know we both feel good when I listen to you, but I'd like to take control for once. I bet I could make you beg for me just like I do for you." He finally lets himself smile at that. The mental image has been haunting him for weeks now; Sumin spread out on his bed, aching and begging for Jinsik to give him some relief. He wouldn't even need his cock to please Sumin, he knows the effect that just the sight of his tongue has on him! His train of thought is interrupted by a soft huff of laughter from Sumin.

"I'm sure you could, jagiya." Sumin yields to him far too easily, like he's watching a cute puppy trying to unlock a gate. Jinsik ignores how that nonchalant attitude strikes up an almost desperate heat in his gut. Both of them know that Jinsik is the strongest member without even having to work out. He could easily overpower Sumin and take whatever he wants from him. He just needs to take the initiative.

"Yeah, I could, so I will!" Jinsik declares, hammering in his point by brushing Sumin's hand aside and shoving him down so he's lying across the couch. Yet again, he goes down far too easily—with a smile, even—and even more frustratingly, doesn't shift his hips up to help Jinsik drag down his loose sweatpants. He quickly finds out why when his fingers catch on something on the way down and he's met with the sight of a very familiar black harness. It stops Jinsik in his tracks. It's been a while since they did anything past kissing in general, but even longer since Sumin has last worn that for him. The spark of heat in his gut blazes up into a wildfire.

"Still going to make me beg, pup?' Jinsik's brain is too busy leaking out of his ears to formulate a response to Sumin's teasing, let alone resist that all-too-fitting petname. He backs off as Sumin sits back up; can't—won't—touch him without permission. He thinks he shakes his head, he really can't tell if he did with how entranced he is at the sight of Sumin's strap. "Sit," Sumin commands with a snap of his fingers, and Jinsik bolts to the floor where he's pointing so fast that his knees bruise. The pain is nothing, losing his attempt at dominance is nothing, all he can focus on is Sumin's smiling face above him where he belongs. Sumin snaps again. "Speak."

"Woof!"

"Good boy~" Sumin cups his cheek with one hand, ruffles his hair with the other, and Jinsik is up so high that he can almost forget the throbbing need between his legs. "I'll forgive you if you bring my cock over here, pup. Can you do that for me?"

Jinsik nods so frantically that he almost bites his own tongue. Forgiveness, Sumin's cock, helping his master... He's a greedy pup, he wants it all.

"Such a sweet pup that I have~" Sumin coos, and Jinsik whimpers. "Now, you remember what pups don't do, right?"

Jinsik nods again; pups don't walk on two legs, pups don't use their hands, pups don't talk, pups don’t forget that the safeword is "Roady".

"Good boy, you're so smart!" Sumin praises, lightly shaking Jinsik's head around. Cuteness aggression, because Jinsik is a cute pup just for him. "I left it in my bag, now go fetch!"

Jinsik takes off on all fours almost before the command is finalized with a third snap of Sumin’s fingers. Not actually before, though, just almost. He's Sumin's good pup, he won't let him down. He finds Sumin's bag easily, it being just on the other chair next to the couch, and unzips it just as easily with his teeth. He sort of wishes that Sumin would wear sweatpants less often so he could open some other kind of zipper with his teeth… He shakes the thought out of his head; that's a conversation for another day. It only takes a little bit of messy pawing around inside the bag—his fingers carefully curled up so he doesn't break the rules—for him to find Sumin's cock; a long, thick, knotted green monstrosity—Minjae's words, not his (everyone now knows to never open Sumin's mail for him)—that makes Jinsik's jaw ache as he takes it into his mouth. He's already drooling around it as he trots back to Sumin and it's not even properly inside his mouth yet.

"'Good boy~" Sumin purrs upon his return. "You're so sweet, I've forgotten what I was about to punish you for" he says with an exaggerated pout as he takes his cock from his mouth. "That would have been mean of me to punish you for no reason, now wouldn't it? How about a treat instead?" Jinsik lights up even brighter than he had been before; if he had a tail, it would be wagging so hard that his whole body would be shaking.

"Woof!" He emphasizes his approving bark with a play-bow, ass up and chest so low that his shirt slides down to reveal his narrow waist. Perfect for Sumin to grab, right? Perfect to hold him in place with, right? He hopes he can convey his pleading with just his face, turned up towards Sumin at an angle that makes his neck hurt.

"Ooh, someone's eager~" Sumin teases as he kicks off his sweatpants. He has to take off the harness to put his strap-on together properly, shifting his hips up and—oh. He hadn't been wearing anything else other than that. He's also dripping, tdick standing red and proud and shining with slick. Jinsik's mouth floods with drool that he doesn't even bother to swallow down. He's been promised a treat, he can slobber for it as much as he wants! He can't help but whimper when Sumin clasps his strap back on and obscures Jinsik's view. "Naughty pup," Sumin chides, "were you hoping to get two treats?"

Jinsik's metaphorical tail stills its wagging. Could he? He averts his gaze from Sumin's cock to his eyes, chest prickling with shame. Sumin's face breaks from a playfully offended look into a smile.

"I know this is going to spoil you too much for your own good, but I'm doing it anyway," he sighs. “Come here.” Jinsik obeys, straightening up from his bow to rest his head in Sumin’s waiting hand. Sumin cradles him so gently as he shifts forward until Jinsik goes cross-eyed staring at his cock. "Cute,” he coos. He snaps with his free hand. It's quieter than the one he usually uses, but it's just as hypnotizing to Jinsik. “Get this nice and wet for me to fuck you with, and then you can taste the other one.” Jinsik doesn’t have to be told twice!

He opens wide for Sumin to shove his cock inside; waits like a good pup for that wonderfully mind-numbing weight on his tongue instead of taking it for himself. Sumin pulls him down by the hair, totally uncaring if Jinsik chokes or gags. Why would he care about something that won’t happen, after all? Jinsik’s mouth is deep enough that they wouldn’t have to worry about his gag reflex even if he had one. His eyes still water beyond belief despite this, spilling over as they roll back in his head. He chases the taste of his own tears as they mix with his spit on Sumin's cock; cis dick is apparently salty sometimes, so this must be an approximation of how Sumin feels when sucking Jinsik off. It feels like the fucking dream. 

“Such a good boy—fuck—I bet you’re leaking already,” Sumin curses, though Jinsik can hardly hear him over his own lewd slurping and muffled whimpers. He's hardly getting any time to breathe between thrusts, the back of his throat getting bullied into what he knows will get him a scolding from his vocal coach. Just the way he likes it. Sumin hooks a leg around his back and drags him closer until Jinsik has to brace his hands—still curled into paws—on Sumin's thighs for stability. He's leaking just like Sumin had predicted, has been leaking for a decent while by now. It's only just started to soak into his pants, wet and slick but still somehow sticky and fuck does it get to his head when coupled with the sting in his scalp. He wants—needs—to get off, so hard that he’s dizzy, would still be dizzy even if Sumin wasn’t fucking his throat like this. He’s rough enough that Jinsik can’t take his hands off his thighs to rut against them. A fresh wave of tears sting Jinsik’s eyes at the realization; usually Sumin gives him at least something! Then again, the leg that isn’t still hooked around his waist is right there, within Jinsik’s reach… The thought has Jinsik moaning around Sumin’s cock. It would be so dirty, so degrading to use Sumin like this; what kind of untrained, vulgar pup would he be to hump his master’s leg just for his own pleasure? He’ll be punished for it for sure… But the temptation is too appealing. He does his best to be subtle, make it look like he’s just scooting over to get comfortable—

—only for Sumin to lift up his heel and bring it down directly onto his cock. Not hard, thank fuck, but still with enough force to make Jinsik see stars. 

“Naughty pup,” Sumin scolds. He drags Jinsik off his cock as if to add to his punishment. Jinsik gasps out a ragged moan, tears and drool flowing freely down his face. “Your desperation is so obvious, it's kind of pathetic.” He grinds his heel just a tiny bit harder against Jinsik’s throbbing arousal and Jinsik can only moan and whine, weak to the pleasure-pain that only Sumin can give to him. 

He could come just like this, he realizes, even though this is new for both of them. Would Sumin let him, just this once? 

“Then again, I think I've strung you out for long enough. We'll talk about it later for next time, okay?” Jinsik whimpers in protest but nods anyway. Sumin is right, it’s better to wait and talk than risk a meltdown by pushing through. “Up.”

Sumin snaps his fingers again and Jinsik drags himself back onto the couch in an instant. The movement finally draws his attention to how damp he’s gotten, his sweat sticking his shirt to him and his pants sticky with precum. 

“Aww, poor pup~” Sumin coos when Jinsik whines. “Getting too hot there, aren't you?” He nods and Sumin snaps. “Paws up.” Jinsik obeys as soon as he’s stable on the couch, putting his arms up for Sumin to take off his shirt, and then falls back against the cushions and lifts his hips so Sumin can take off his pants and underwear. He can’t hold back his groan of relief when his skin is exposed to the air, head spinning too much to even be flustered at the exposure even when Sumin is raking his eyes over his body like he wants to devour him. “Fuck, you're so sexy,” he growls. “Do you have any idea how much I envy you? You don't even have to work for it, and your body is like this.” Sumin’s words are punctuated by his hands sliding up Jinsik’s sides, squeezing at his narrow waist and pressing him into the couch until his thumbs brush his nipples. Jinsik arches into the touch. “You're so sensitive, too~” Sumin pinches him, hard, and Jinsik yelps and tries to squirm out of his reach, but his cock—aching and red and leaking all over his stomach—jumps and gives him away. He never would have guessed that Sumin could turn him into such a masochist. Love does funny things. “Cute. I can't decide if I want to play with you or be inside you.” Jinsik whines in complaint; he needs Sumin inside him, now! Hasn’t he done all that he was supposed to? “Okay, okay, enough playing. Turn around.” Jinsik’s metaphorical tail gets right back to madly wagging as soon as their legs are untangled enough for him to obey. 

He presents just the way Sumin likes it; ass up, back arched, face pressed into the cushions. He gets a reverent hand tracing down his spine for his efforts that has him shivering. Sumin's touch is always so warm, so loving even when he’s punishing Jinsik. So gentle unlike the rough prod of his cock against his hole. 

“Remember to breathe, pup.” Is all the warning he gets before Sumin pushes his way inside; his unforgiving girth punching the breath out of his lungs and splitting him open with only Jinsik’s spit to ease the sting. 

“You like that, pup?” Sumin asks when Jinsik cries out. He slows down his less-than-gentle entrance for just a moment, pulling out slightly and returning to shove a pillow—now encased with Jinsik’s discarded shirt—under his hips. The rough, scratchy friction against his leaky cock borders on painful, yet he can’t stop himself from rutting against it; forward onto the pillow, backward onto Sumin’s cock, over and over until the pain blooms into pleasure. “This is easier than I thought it would be,” Sumin muses, one hand gripping Jinsik’s waist to steady him. “Have you been touching yourself when I’m not around?” 

Jinsik muffles a broken whine into the couch cushions. Caught. 

“Come on, pup. Answer me clearly.” Sumin’s voice takes on an authoritative edge. The hand on his waist tightens hard enough to bruise, while the other snakes around his throat to pull him up. “You’re allowed to talk just this once,” he teases, only to hook two fingers into Jinsik’s mouth. “I mean, if you can~” he adds when Jinsik chokes on a moan. Jinsik decides not to answer right away. The pressure of Sumin’s fingers on his tongue is just too good to resist closing his mouth around them and sucking, circling his tongue around the thick digits until his mind goes blissfully blank. The sound of it all is filthy; Jinsik’s muffled whimpers between his lewd slurping and the creak of the couch springs beneath him as Sumin fucks his way inside. Jinsik can’t get enough. 

“Such a needy pup, always wanting something to suck on,” Sumin huffs. He drags his fingers out of Jinsik’s mouth and lightly slaps him across the face with them, leaving a wet streak behind. “Come on, pup. I still need an answer.” He snaps his fingers again. “Speak.”

“Yuh—yeah, I have been,” Jinsik slurs. It's so hard to form words after not needed to for so long; the motions of his jaw and tongue now unfamiliar to him. “Jus’ missed y’so much, need somethin’ in me, need y’to fuck me, please, please!” He twists around to face Sumin properly—beg him properly. “Jus’ move already, ‘ll be fine.”

Sumin shoves his face back into the cushions. The new angle makes it hard to breathe with the way it restricts his throat; then again it could also be how deep Sumin reaches inside now. He’s almost bottomed out completely with just the knot left to shove its way in. He needs it all; needs it deeper, harder. 

“Such a greedy pup,” Sumin sighs. “No more talking,” he adds with a resounding slap to Jinsik’s ass. It stings so good that his eyes are spilling over again, fresh tear tracks running down his ruddy face. Jinsik obeys and lets his verbal processing skills melt away to blissed-out moans and whimpers. He’s much more comfortable this way, incoming crick in his neck aside. “You just want to be broken and bred, don’t you?” Sumin’s filthy words are paired with the rough drag of his cock against Jinsik’s walls, pulling out halfway and slamming back in. 

(Yes!) he wants to say, (Yes, please, breed me, stuff me full, give me your puppies!) He's already been freed from the burden of speaking, though, so he's reduced to just the animalistic moans that Sumin fucks out of him at a brutal pace. Sumin likes that, but he doesn’t understand them, so Jinsik rocks backwards and meets his thrusts as hard as he can manage. His cock ruts harshly into the pillow no matter what direction he goes in and it makes him feel so trapped, so dirty, so used. Just like it should be. 

“Good boy,” Sumin growls. “Such an obedient pup for me, my perfect little slut. Gonna knot you, knock you up with so many puppies. Fill out this pretty figure of yours.” His hand digs a bruise into Jinsik’s waist and Jinsik positively wails. The thought of his slender body growing wide and rounding out around Sumin’s children—impossible as they would be—after this is absolutely dizzying; he wants it, needs it. “Want my knot, pup?” Jinsik does his best to nod from his place shoved against the couch. Sumin’s smile—even though it's blurred with tears—couldn’t possibly be more beautiful. He finally releases his grip on Jinsik’s head and thrusts his fingers into his face. A familiar snap brings Jinsik’s brain back into focus. “Kiss.” 

Jinsik presses his lips against Sumin’s fingers in the best approximation that he can manage in his ruined state. Sumin huffs out a laugh, gentle fingers wiping Jinsik’s drool off his lips.

“Sweet boy,” Sumin sighs. “Not that kind.” Jinsik blinks his bleary eyes up at him in confusion until he snaps again. “How do pups kiss?” Oh, right. Pups don’t kiss like people. He scrambles to correct his mistake, curling his tongue around Sumin’s fingers and lapping at them until they’re shining with spit. “That’s better.” Jinsik’s focus fizzles back into blissful nothing at Sumin's praise. This is all he needs to function, just Sumin’s guiding hand, Sumin’s voice in his ear, Sumin commanding his every movement, Sumin, Sumin, Sumi—

His muted thoughts shatter into white-hot pleasure when Sumin’s slick fingers wrap around his cock. He muffles a cry into the couch as Sumin jerks him off; fast and hard to make up for his thrusts starting to slow down. It’s a welcome change from the pillow under his hips, which has gone from scratchy to borderline chafing over the course of this rough mating. 

“Good boy,” Sumin groans over Jinsik’s sobbing moans. “Such a good pup for me.” His hand speeds up and Jinsik nearly collapses, held up only by Sumin’s grip on his waist. “Getting close?” Sumin really doesn’t need to ask. He’s ruined Jinsik enough times that he can tell just by how his cock twitches in his grasp. “You’re so easy,” he purrs. The hand around Jinsik’s waist releases him just for a moment, and with one last snap of his fingers;

“Come.” 

Jinsik obeys instantly with a howling moan, so hard he nearly whites out. Sumin’s knot pops into place right against his prostate and sends sparks down his spine with every twitch of his body; all the more stimulation that's rapidly building up to be almost too much. Sumin doesn't let him get away; his hips still grinding his knot into him and his hand milking him for all he’s worth until he’s sobbing and trembling. He’s helpless to do anything other than take what Sumin gives him, until he’s choking on his sobs, until Sumin’s hand and the pillow underneath him—bless Sumin’s foresight to cover it with his shirt—are drenched in white, until the waves of his orgasm start to ebb into painful aftershocks. Sumin releases his cock with one final tug and spanks him just to make him squeal, no doubt leaving a white streak behind. Marking him. The thought makes his spent cock stir again, though he’s far too boneless to do anything about it at the moment. He only vaguely registers Sumin’s hand disappearing to drag the pillow out from under him. There’s a rustle of fabric and the pillow—now stripped of the shirt that had been covering it and mostly clean of any evidence—thumps onto the couch next to Jinsik’s head and his shirt is tossed into an inside-out heap on the floor. 

“Fuck,” Sumin hisses under his breath. Jinsik makes some kind of quizzical bleating noise in response; he knows something hasn’t gone right but is still too fucked-out to really process it. “It’s nothing that bad, don’t worry,” Sumin reassures with a gentle hand on Jinsik’s back, “you’re just a messy pup. There's cum on the couch.” Fuck, indeed. Jinsik faintly wonders if Sumin will command him to lick it off. He’s done that before after fucking him against his desk, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he did it again. Jinsik wouldn’t mind. Good pups do what they’re told. Jinsik doesn't hear any snap or command though, just the faint tinkering of Sumin taking off his cock. His strength has returned enough for him to turn around and give Sumin a questioning look. “Pretty pup.” Sumin pauses his unstrapping and reaches out with his clean hand to wipe Jinsik’s tears away. “Normally I would tell you to clean up your mess, but this is a shared couch and I'd rather not get your tongue on it before it goes inside me. I’ll take care of it this time.” Jinsik lights up. 

“Woof!” His tongue hangs out from between his teeth in his anticipation, and he starts to squirm and paw at Sumin, impatient for him to free himself and give him his second treat. The movement tugs at Sumin’s knot and they both hiss. 

“So impatient,” Sumin sighs. “Hold on, pup, I can't really do this with one hand.” He sticks his fingers in front of Jinsik’s face again and snaps, the motion flicking some of Jinsik’s own cum onto his cheek. “Clean up.” 

Jinsik obeys, parting his lips so Sumin can shove his fingers inside. His mouth floods with drool as Sumin presses them against his tongue and smears his release all over it. It’s slightly bitter but he laps it all up anyway, sealing his lips around each of Sumin's thick fingers to suck it off, then moving on to licking his palm clean. He swallows it all under Sumin’s watchful eye and is rewarded with a smile.

“Good boy.” His hand retreats and his weight pulls away from Jinsik mere seconds after, finally freed from the harness that he now buckles inside-out around Jinsik’s hips and legs to keep his knot secured inside him. “Still want your other treat?” Jinsik can feel himself getting hard again before Sumin can even finish his sentence. He whimpers pathetically, both of them already knowing that Sumin can tell he needs it. A familiar snap chases away Jinsik’s desperate thoughts. “Sit.”

Moving is a challenge now that Jinsik has a knot in him sending zaps of pleasure up his spine, but Jinsik is a good pup, so he obeys and drops to his bruised knees where Sumin points him. When he looks back up at Sumin, he's in the middle of stripping his shirt off. Jinsik's eyes roam over what’s revealed; soft abs, scar-defined chest, toned arms. Sumin lays his shirt on top of the couch before sitting down on it and opening his legs right in Jinsik’s face. Of course the motion draws Jinsik's gaze right between them. Sumin’s inner thighs have grown damp with his own slick, red marks cut into his skin by the harness that's now strapped on Jinsik. He's flushed a deep red, made darker by his black not-quite-curls. He's trimmed them again. Jinsik whines; he understands why he would, but it’s so much more enjoyable to bury his face in them and breathe him in when they’re longer. Then again this gives him a better view of Sumin's throbbing tdick and how wet he’s gotten—it’s like he’s applied gloss around his pussy—so he supposes it's worth it. 

“Come here, pup.” Sumin's words are punctuated by two quick snaps. Jinsik shakes himself out of his daze and rushes to obey, crawling between Sumin's legs and resting his cheek on his thigh. His hands come up to rest higher up on Sumin’s legs, still curled into paws, still a safe distance from his hips. His treat is so close… 

Another snap. 

“Wait for it.” 

Of course Sumin wouldn't make this easy for him. He whines but obeys and keeps still; if he's good and waits without touching himself, he'll get his treat. Sumin grins down at him. One hand cards through Jinsik's hair, the other held up ready to snap. Jinsik can feel himself starting to tremble in anticipation. 

Snap. 

“Speak.”

“Woof!”

Wait, whimper, whine. Wet his lips. Watch Sumin’s grin grow wider. 

“Want your treat, pup?” Sumin asks. He wraps a leg around Jinsik’s shoulders to drag him in closer, until he can almost taste it. Jinsik nods, a fresh wave of desperate tears pricking his eyes. The final snap of Sumin's fingers echoes in Jinsik's ears. 

“Eat up.”

Jinsik dives in like he's starving. Sumin's walls are so soft, fluttering around his curling tongue and soaking his face down to the chin in slick. His musk is the strongest here, thick and heady and intoxicating. Jinsik laps it up, breathes it in, tastes it—tastes Sumin. His nose bumps against his tdick with every swipe of his tongue and Sumin’s grip on his hair tightens until it stings.

“Good boy, fuck, such a good boy,” Sumin moans. The praise goes straight to Jinsik's neglected cock as Sumin grinds against his tongue, guiding him with a hand in his hair and his thighs squeezing his head. Jinsik could drift off to heaven like this, smothered between Sumin’s legs and listening to his muffled noises of pleasure. This is his purpose. “M’getting close pup, you're doing so good.” Jinsik whimpers into Sumin’s pussy at the praise. He chases after it, licks deeper into him to pull more of those pretty moans from his mouth. 

He’s fully drunk on Sumin now, the way he tastes, the way he clenches around his tongue, the way his pubes scratch his face; another reason why he doesn’t like them trimmed. It’s all made up for by the way Sumin drags his face up to shove his tdick into his mouth. Jinsik seals his lips around it and sucks hard, just the way Sumin likes it. He can’t help his smile when Sumin outright squeals above him. The leg that isn’t in the middle of crushing Jinsik’s head digs its heel into his thigh as Sumin folds in on himself. 

“Fuck, pup, like that, just like that, good boy,” he sobs in a breathless, constant string of praise. Jinsik whines, about as strung out as Sumin sounds. Sumin’s tdick twitches in Jinsik’s mouth and it makes his cock ache. He's still being good, right? He can use Sumin to get off without being punished this time, right? He dips his head down to lap up more of Sumin’s slick instead. He’s learned to be a good pup, he won’t do anything unless he’s told to, so Sumin shoves his foot between Jinsik’s legs for him. “Go on and use me, pup. M’so close, I know you can come again for me.” He snaps his fingers with a shaky hand. “Make a mess out of me, pup.” 

Jinsik muffles a moan into Sumin’s cunt. Finally! He sucks and laps harder at his tdick until Sumin’s thighs start to tremble; a telltale sign that he’s about to come, so Jinsik keeps it up until the very last second just so he can catch the gush of Sumin’s slick directly in his mouth. Fuck, he tastes like heaven. Sumin’s shaky, strained moans spur him to keep going, coax more of his juices out with his lips and tongue so he can swallow it down, drink him in until his stomach starts to turn. He’s spoiled that way. Sumin lets him indulge, nudges his trembling leg against Jinsik’s cock until he’s moving his hips on his own. 

Humping Sumin’s leg is just as dirty as Jinsik expected it would be, especially with the knot still inside him sending shocks of pleasure through his body with every snap of his hips. The shame burns him up in the best way possible, and he takes that heat out on chasing both his and Sumin’s pleasure. 

“Fuck, you and your devil’s tongue,” Sumin gasps out, hips bucking harshly against Jinsik’s face every time he licks into him. “Gonna come, greedy pup?” His voice has grown strained from how Jinsik refuses to let up on his cock; he keeps chasing Sumin’s taste even when Sumin’s grip in his hair has started to sting, even when the leg around his shoulders threatens to crush his head, even when his own pleasure threatens to overwhelm him. His breath starts to grow short as his orgasm builds, supercharged and twice as intense as the first thanks to the stench of sex filling the room and Sumin’s raw cunt clenching around his tongue and the slick dripping down his face and chest; Sumin’s mark, Sumin’s claim. 

Jinsik really does white out this time. Maybe it’s because he came so hard it fucking hurt, maybe it’s because Sumin shoved him into his cunt so hard that he briefly suffocated him, maybe it’s some combination of both. All he remembers before he’s blinking awake in Sumin’s arms is both of them slumping down against the couch. 

They’re soaking in a warm bath now, Jinsik’s back pressed up against Sumin’s chest. One of Sumin’s hands carefully keeps his head above the water line while the other massages away the aching bruise on Jinsik's side. He must have cleaned up and gotten them here sometime while Jinsik was out. Jinsik’s back and jaw are deliciously sore now, and will no doubt be giving him absolute hell tomorrow. Sumin, sensing his stirring, pulls him closer and presses a kiss to his shoulder 

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” he teases. His voice is ever so slightly hoarse next to Jinsik’s ear; Jinsik vaguely recalls hearing it start to break on his moans from his overstimulation. “Are you alright, jagiya? Did I push you too far?” Jinsik shakes his head.

“No, I liked it.” Jinsik attempts to twist around to look at Sumin properly only to be stopped by an unpleasant, tugging ache. “Ow. We’ve been rougher before, it’s okay.” He intercepts Sumin’s concerned, hovering hand by taking it into his own. “How are you feeling? I’m sorry I made you do this all by yourself.” He kisses Sumin’s knuckles, unsure if his tone alone will convey his guilt. Sumin hums in protest and kisses his neck.

“I’m fine, it’s not like you could have controlled that.” He leans his head against Jinsik’s and wraps his arm around his waist. His touch lingers on Jinsik’s belly for just a moment; like something had taken, Jinsik’s imagination supplies. Like they have something precious underneath. “Having you here like this makes up for it.” Jinsik’s heart melts. It drips down and soaks into his skin, dissolves into the water and carries him off on the ripples to a heaven where only he and Sumin exist.

“I love you,” he murmurs into the silence between them. Sumin’s lips curl into a smile against his skin.

“I love you too.” 

Later on, they’ll sit up and clean each other off properly. They’ll run loving fingers through each other’s hair, work out the knots in each other’s bodies with the utmost care, tend to each other’s bruises as if any touch other than the most gentle will break them. After that they’ll help each other get dressed, sneak past the living room hoping that the open window will air out the smell of their coupling before the others get home, and curl up in Sumin’s bed together to cuddle and kiss the hours away. Jinsik will cry, and when Sumin asks him why, he’ll shake his head and tell him that he’s just so lucky to have someone who loves him so much, who’s so good to him. He’ll apologize for being silly and Sumin will reassure him, kiss his tears away until they drift off to sleep.

Jinsik is all too happy to melt into Sumin's kisses at the end of the night. Three dates is already a high number to score with Jinsik and here he is letting himself be pinned to Sumin's bedroom door after—well, he stopped counting after seven. His stomach is pleasantly full from dinner—homemade by Sumin, because of course it would be—and his head buzzes with the daze of wine—full-bodied and sweet just the way he likes it. His heart is in the best condition it's been in decades; swooping in his chest light as a feather with every press of Sumin's lips to his own. 

"You," Sumin whispers between kisses, "are so amazing." His jacket drops to the floor in the time it takes for Jinsik to catch his breath. 

"Me? I've hardly done anything to warrant that, have I?" Jinsik, ever coy, dodges Sumin's kisses this time. He still dives in; landing on Jinsik's cheeks, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Jinsik can't help but giggle at his insistence to love him; he's like an ever-adoring puppy. 

"You exist, jagiya. That alone is amazing enough." Sumin abandons Jinsik's lips in favour of mouthing at his neck, kissing and sucking faint pink marks into his soft skin. Jinsik swallows down a heavy cocktail of dread and arousal as he dips lower; just shy of his collar now. Oh, Sumin's been so good so far. If he fails this last trial, what will become of Jinsik? Of his heart? His body? Jinsik allows him one last lingering kiss to his Adam's apple before lightly pushing at his chest. 

"Yeobo, hold on," he murmurs. Sumin obeys immediately, pulling back with his face turned up in concern. His hands leave their place on Jinsik's waist after a moment of hesitation to hover nervously between them, like he doesn't know what to do with them. Oh, this is new. No one has stopped for Jinsik before Sumin. It's… Nice. He continues before his brooding can take over him. "I have something to tell you before we do anything else." Understanding dawns on Sumin's face.

"Oh?" His tone is light, carefully measured as he guides Jinsik to sit down on his bed. "What is it? Please don't be afraid to tell me, I'm always here to listen." Sumin sits down next to him; farther down the bed away from the door, a safe distance from Jinsik. Providing an exit in case he needs one. He's smiling when Jinsik looks up at him again; soft and reassuring. Jinsik can't help but mirror it. "Whenever you're ready, jagi."

"I—" The words lodge in Jinsik's throat. How many times has he had to have this conversation over the years? How many more times will he have to spill his guts for a man and pick them up again when he inevitably finds them too much of a mess to deal with? How will he handle it if Sumin repeats this cycle? Jinsik glances back up at him to find his curiosity fully replaced by concern. Please, please let this time be the last. He takes a deep breath and tries again. "I've had… Other relationships before." He doesn't need to tell Sumin this; he had garnered quite the reputation for his amount of failed relationships in just the first few months of school; rumours fly quite quickly on a college campus. Sumin hadn't cared in the slightest, nor does he care now. He continues after clearing his throat. "They weren't the best. Some of them cheated on me, some of them ghosted me… It doesn't really matter anymore, they're long gone. It's just…" Here he goes. "... Some of them have really—" He crosses his arms over his chest; nails biting into the meat of his arms. "—hurt me." Sumin sucks in a sharp breath.

"Oh, jagi—" Jinsik shakes his head before he can continue. He has to get this out now or he never will.

"It's not just…" He sighs. "Sometimes they wouldn't just hit me, o-or they'd hit me to get me to—to—" The words tangle around his tongue yet again. All the past decades come flying back to Jinsik again; all the strangers on the street, all the times he'd come back crying only to be called a cheater or worse, all the times he's been beaten and pushed down "because you're mine", every silver tongue that's turned to a vile intrusion against his own. All of them making Jinsik the victim of their own lack of humanity that he's learned to despise. 

"Jagiya, it's okay." Sumin's gentle voice drifts past his screaming memories. "You don't have to say every detail, I… I think I get it." He reaches out to Jinsik, stopping just short of his hand. "None of it was your fault, nor does it change how I see you now. You're still the Jinsik I want to spend all my time with from now on." Jinsik sighs. Now's the hard part. 

"It was my fault, actually." He puts a hand up before Sumin can protest. "Let me just show you so you'll believe me." 

Sumin's favourite pocketknife—his first in a collection that he's been building since he was sixteen, a gift from his father—disappears from his nightstand and flicks open in Jinsik's hand. 

"Jagi, what are you—"

Jinsik slices a deep white gouge in his own arm before Sumin can reach him. 

"Just watch." Sumin does not just watch, scrambling to Jinsik's side and rushing to cover the wound left behind. 

"I'm not going to just watch while you do this! Please jagi, I want to help you through whatever's—" Jinsik's wound knits shut under Sumin's hands; the red river flowing down his arm slowing to a trickle, then a stop. "—been haunting you… What the fuck—"

"I told you, yeobo. Just watch." Jinsik slashes open his other arm this time and places the knife against his throat before this one can even stop bleeding. "I need you to promise me you won't call me an ambulance." 

Shellshocked, Sumin can only nod. 

"Good boy." Are the last words out of Jinsik's mouth before the knife digs in as far as it will go. The whole blade disappears into his flesh and exits him dripping with red that he takes care not to get on Sumin's sheets. His neck spasms against the gush of blood floating down his throat. There’s nothing he can do to prevent the mess that sprays from his neck then; fine droplets of blood and spit finding their way to Sumin’s sheets and floor. 

“Is this going to heal up too?” Sumin asks over the sound of Jinsik’s retching coughs. “Please tell me you’re going to heal from this.”

“I—” Jinsik can hardly get a word out through his chest-ripping coughs. “—I’ll be fine. I just—” There are flecks of blood on Sumin’s hands now too. “—have to show you this—” The edges of his wound grind together unpleasantly as he tries to swallow. “—first so you’ll take—” Stars dance about in his vision as his lungs deplete. “—this next part seriously.”

“There’s a next part?” Sumin’s voice starts to shake around what Jinsik knows is the instinct to gag. It’s commendable that he hasn’t fled yet; Jinsik’s last fling to make it this far had done so while filling him up with lead. He’s patient while waiting for Jinsik’s response, only reaching out for his hand when the lack of oxygen starts to make him sway. 

“To put it simply…” Jinsik’s voice is about as smooth as sandpaper when he can finally speak again, heavy under the weight of blood clots that still cling to the inside of his throat. “I’m just irresistible to anyone who looks me in the eye.”

“Is—” Sumin’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. An anxious habit. “—is that why you never look people in the eye? I really did think it was because you’re on the spectrum.” His words are carefully measured; Jinsik can see that he’s trying to make sure his actions are the same, but he can easily see Sumin’s curiosity starting to overtake him now. Nervous fidgeting with his hands has become a too-measured stillness, his body leaning towards Jinsik when he had initially been keeping his distance, his neck craning this way and that to get a proper look at Jinsik’s face. Cute. 

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m still on the spectrum,” Jinsik giggles. A laugh slips past Sumin’s careful composure to signal his guard dropping, and Jinsik rushes to strike. 

“I’m also no longer human, yeobo.” He speaks into Sumin’s very soul; the very windows to them open and locked on to Jinsik’s. This always happens; they can never look away once Jinsik makes eye contact. His flesh used to crawl every time in anticipation—dread, really—for what would be to come, but… Sumin doesn’t move. He just melts under Jinsik’s gaze, slack-jawed in his awe. That… Hasn’t happened before. “This has been my curse for a long, long time. Don’t you feel it?”

“I…” Sumin swallows thickly. “... I feel something, alright. I feel you.” His hand twitches against Jinsik’s, as if being manipulated by someone else to grab a hold. Interestingly, he doesn’t. “I want you, Jinsik. I want you so bad it’s starting to hurt.” His body jerks somewhat as he crosses his legs; fast, but not fast enough to hide his arousal straining at the front of his pants. As expected. Oh, please don’t let Jinsik’s faith in him fail now!

“Aren’t you going to take me, then?”

Sumin recoils away from him as if he's been struck. 

"What?! No, not after what you've just told me!" Sumin's voice shakes with the effort it takes to keep it steady. His hands do too; digging into the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turn white. "I—you said this is your-your curse, right?" Jinsik nods. "Then everything that happened to you still isn't your fault. You don't mean to—" Sumin swallows roughly. "—to bewitch people like this, right?"

"Most of the time I don't. I really hate it sometimes, but not now." Jinsik leans in closer to Sumin as he speaks. "I mean it right now, Sumin. What are you going to do?"

Sumin is silent for a long, long moment. Jinsik doesn't take his eyes off him for a single second of it; watching his blown-out eyes roam over his body, the hot flush of arousal blooming across his face, the bob of his throat working around words that don't come out. 

"Nothing," Sumin finally says. His voice splinters on the word. "I won't be an animal just because you're cursed." Jinsik's bloody hand inches closer to his, so close that anyone else surely would have snapped. Sumin still doesn't move. "I won't touch you unless you—you, not your curse—want me to, jagi." 

Jinsik's breath halts in his lungs. 

"Yeobo, you're…" A delirious laugh bubbles up his throat. "You're the only person who has ever said that to me." He finally throws away his previous restraint and flings himself into Sumin's arms. As expected, Sumin yelps and tries to scramble away from him. 

"I—the first?!" he stammers. "That's just not right, jagi, just because you're cursed doesn't mean other people have the right to—" Jinsik kisses him before he can start rambling. This should be the true point of no return, right? Wrong. Sumin's hands still hover over him without making any contact. 

"Thank you, yeobo," Jinsik giggles against Sumin's lips. "I get the idea." Sumin nearly chokes to correct himself only for Jinsik to kiss him again. "I just had to make sure you wouldn't hurt me." Sumin's heart breaks before Jinsik's very eyes.

"Oh, jagi." He pulls Jinsik into a hug so tight that he can feel his heartbeat against him. "I would never. Curse or otherwise, I'll destroy myself before I ever let you be hurt." 

Heart melting, Jinsik shakes his head.

"I can recover from being hurt—I'm still alive after everything that's been done to me after all—but you can't. Not like I can." 

"Still—"

"Yeobo," Jinsik cuts in before Sumin and his morals can get ahead of himself. "I'm trying to tell you that out of all the pain that I've been put through, I'm ready to give myself to you." He extricates himself from Sumin's arms with a gentle hand and slides up the bed to nestle among his pillows, uncaring of the blood he smears behind him. "Come here." He flips the knife around in his hand and extends it to Sumin. "Take as much as you want from me."

Entranced, Sumin crawls up the bed until he's between Jinsik's legs. Trembling hands take the knife from his hands, fold it back up, and return it to the nightstand.

"I only want what you're willing to give me," he murmurs into the space between them. "I don't need a knife to show you that I love you." It's a lie that Jinsik easily spots in his eyes but one he indulges anyway. If Sumin is going to be this insistent on fighting Jinsik's curse for him, Jinsik might as well let him find his own way through. 

"Even if I want it?" Jinsik asks. He keeps his eyes locked on Sumin's to watch his pure soul flail against the madness of Jinsik's curse. His grin grows the more Sumin struggles, only to falter when Sumin wins yet again. 

"Do you want it or does your curse want it? I know this isn't something you can control but I don't like being played with, jagi." His gaze drops from Jinsik's eyes to his lips—still wanting but free of the curse's pull—safe territory. 

Jinsik hesitates. Now that he's still being denied the pain that he's been bracing himself for, he finds himself disappointed that it won't come. This he knows to be his own heart speaking; the curse only touches his body. His body that has grown to conflate pain with pleasure can only determine whether or not it's experiencing a sensation; his mind is the only thing that can determine if he wants said experience…

He nods.

"I want it. I trust that you'll take me apart to love me after everyone else has done it to control me." Sumin's eyes are fully lucid when they meet Jinsik's again. The relief in them is palpable and tinged with the love that Jinsik has grown used to seeing yet is still surprised to find. 

"I'll keep that in mind," he says with a bright smile, and then he's finally—finally—closing the space between them. Jinsik melts under him easily, lapping up his love just as eagerly as Sumin chases the taste of iron from his tongue. Sumin's hands trace the same route that his knife had sliced through Jinsik's arms only to find smooth, unbroken skin; the only evidence of that self-inflicted violence being the blood that now sticks to his fingers. 

He leaves red handprints on Jinsik's clothes as he flips them over so Jinsik is nestled in his lap; if he wants to bleed, it'll get on him too. Jinsik smiles against him; it's so cute how Sumin wants to drown in him. He won't let that happen just yet, pulling back to let Sumin breathe. 

"Jagi," Sumin growls in complaint. Uncaring of his need to breathe, he continues to kiss Jinsik everywhere he can reach; his cheeks, his jaws, his neck. 

"Yeobo," Jinsik whimpers. "Sumin, that hurts." Sumin frowns in confusion until Jinsik's hands bat at his own. His fingertips are red when he finally loosens the grip he didn't know he had on Jinsik's waist, his nails having left crescent-shaped punctures in Jinsik's otherwise unmarred skin. He jerks back at the sight as if he had been burned. 

"Oh shit," Sumin hisses. He pushes himself back against the headboard as if he can get away from Jinsik—who's still comfortably seated in his lap—and his own temptation to touch him again. "I'm so sorry jagi, are you—" 

"I told you, I trust you." Jinsik cuts him off with a finger to his lips before he can start spiralling. Sumin freezes mid-word, entranced by the coy smile on Jinsik's face. Such a sweet boy, this one; Jinsik finds himself endeared this time around. "I know what you want to do to me, yeobo. Go ahead. I want it too." He punctuates his words by bringing Sumin's hand up to his mouth. Keeping his eyes locked with Sumin's, he traces Sumin's bloody fingertips over his lips. It's as easy as applying his favourite lipstick despite the sharp tang of iron. Sumin's tongue darts out to catch another taste just for the hell of it, and his breath hitches as if Jinsik had punched it out of him. His pupils are blown wide open with nothing but love in their depths. Not a trace of Jinsik's curse, and yet… "Hurt me more, yeobo," he purrs. "Make me feel how much you love me." 

Ever obedient, Sumin needs no more direction before he's surging up to kiss Jinsik's blood off his lips. He chases the taste harder than a drug; past being a junkie, he becomes a beast in the way he licks and bites at Jinsik's lip for his blood. Got him. 

"So beautiful," Sumin growls in tandem with his nails returning to the wounds he's already made. "My angel. Where are your wings?" Jinsik bites his lip against a giggle as Sumin turns his attention from his lips to his neck. His tongue is hot against his skin, surely able to taste the blood rushing just underneath. 

"Me, an angel? You have too much faith in me, yeobo." Jinsik's heart still swells with fondness as he rejects Sumin's praise. It's then that Sumin chooses to bite down, hard and fast. He jerks his head like a beast—both to get his teeth deeper in and to deny Jinsik's denial. 

"S'not true," he mutters through his mouth that's quickly overflowing with blood and flesh. "They're right here." His hands snake up Jinsik's shirt along his back. His hands are reverent unlike the savage rip of his teeth and Jinsik feels dizzy; loved and desired, worshiped and desecrated. He can't decide which feeling he likes more. Sumin, the beast, soothes the wound in Jinsik's neck with tender licks and kisses, lapping up his blood like one would savour a particularly sweet honey. 

Now it's his hands' turn to deliver the pain; raking down Jinsik's back hard enough to leave lines of red welling up in their wake to stain and stick Jinsik's shirt to his skin. Tears roll down Jinsik's face in tandem with the blood on his back—tears of love, his life as his love that Sumin draws from him with the dig of his teeth or press of his lips. 

"Going to dig my wings out of me, yeobo?" Jinsik asks, his voice strained against the rough drag of his shirt against his wounds. 

"Mhm. Let me see you." Sumin's voice is slurred from all the blood in his mouth. Drunk on Jinsik's love. Sumin's hands leave him for only a moment; long enough for Jinsik to strip off his blood-soaked shirt and pass him the knife that's been lying neglected on the nightstand. He plunges it into Jinsik's back at the exact moment that Jinsik kisses him again, rough and sharp contrasting soft and tender. Sumin holds him as he chokes on his blood, laps it up from his lips while he shakes and spits up more. Such an eager puppy for any scraps of the death that he can never give him... Jinsik's in love. 

Unable to express this in words thanks to the knife that's left and returned for another strike in his other lung, he confesses through more breathless, bloody kisses. Sumin returns them with equal, if not even more intense fervor, having already fallen past love and obsession into insanity. 

"M'gonna find your wings," he whispers between kisses. "I'll find them and rip them out. You're my angel, I won't let you fly away to anyone else." True to his word as always, the knife returns to his back over and over again; slicing and splintering bone with every strike. Jinsik's lungs collapse somewhere between the fifth and seventh strike. Black spots that he's too weak to swat away dance in his vision. They interrupt his view of Sumin's pretty face, Jinsik wants to be rid of them. 

The knife is replaced by Sumin's searching hands. They search through the mess left behind and splatter Jinsik's ruined skin and their sheets—already soaked by the knife's ravaging—with blood and gore. Jinsik falls limp against Sumin's chest as he fondles his broken ribs from behind, his fingers dipping into the gashes between them as if they were a pussy—a thought that has Jinsik blushing despite everything else that Sumin has already done to him before. He wonders if Sumin could cut one into him, one day. 

His train of thought is interrupted by Sumin properly gripping his ribs and pulling. Some pieces are easily ripped from his flesh, some stubbornly cling to the rest of his frame. He at least has the sense to hold on to Sumin to help him, his head jerking back at the sudden resistance. Blood and drool run freely past his parted lips and make a mess of him that Sumin gladly cleans up with his tongue, all while his hands continue to twist and pull at Jinsik's ribs. The agony would be numbing if it wasn't for Jinsik's shot pain receptors, so overloaded that it only registers as white-hot pleasure. 

Just as Jinsik is blindly groping for the knife again, Sumin's hands plunge into the holes he's dug into him. 

"There you are." Jinsik can barely hear Sumin over the roar of blood in his ears. "Now let's take care of those wings, yeah?" His hands are on Jinsik's lungs before they can fill up with his response—not that they could with all the holes that have been punched through them. 

Sumin yanks them out in one smooth motion. They tear against the jagged edge of his still-bleeding bones, a rough, wet dragging of flesh and fluid and organs stopped only by the impact of cartilage against his spine. The pull is cut off with a flash of Sumin's knife. 

They're both soaked now, clothes and skin shining in varying shades of red. Jinsik had once associated it with the madness and rage that came with his curse; reviling how humanity chose to assign the dreadful colour to love instead. Now, however, having it pulled from him by Sumin, he understands. He craves more.

Sumin handles Jinsik's "wings" with a surprisingly gentle hand even as they drip blood all over him—then again he's already covered in it. He sets them aside next to his knife; "For later," he says, "I'll eat them once I'm done with you." Then, because he can never resist a joke: "Do you think they'll taste like chicken if I prepare them properly?" 

Jinsik would groan if he had the ability. He rolls his eyes so hard they nearly drop into the back of his head instead; a grievance that Sumin rushes to placate. His chest spasms in weak, futile attempts to keep filling lungs that are no longer there, his throat working around nothing while Sumin kisses him through his perpetual death throes. They will never end permanently; only taper off as his corrupted body is forced to heal over and over again as Sumin continues to destroy him. Continues to love him. 

"Sorry, sorry." He seals each apology with a kiss, so sweet that Jinsik can only accept. He can feel himself healing at the press of Sumin's lips; flesh knitting itself back together strand by strand to pull cracked bones back into place, nerves and veins zinging as they reconnect and resume their flow. Sumin is oddly patient this time around; his hands only tracing soothing patterns over his skin instead of digging in for more. Then again he's never hurt Jinsik this deeply—never loved Jinsik this deeply before. Perhaps he doesn't want to push. Jinsik's throat jerks in what might be a sigh—still impossible until his lungs have fully grown back—of endearment. Sumin is truly too sweet for him. 

"You're so beautiful like this, jagi," Sumin whispers. His eyes are closed while he licks the blood off Jinsik's skin. "Feels so good to know you're mine." Jinsik would whimper if he could. Sumin soothes his needy twitches with another kiss, soft and sweet and full of blood. His touch is gentle on Jinsik's back; feather-light on his newly grown skin. The ridge of broken bone is still visible underneath as it knits back together. Jinsik flinches at the touch. "Sorry," Sumin whispers, his voice tinged with remorse. Funny that he's only apologizing now after all he's done. "How are you feeling?" Jinsik chokes on his answer; words aren't going to be possible for a good while yet. 

He raises a blood-drenched hand to Sumin's, turning it around and opening his beloved's fingers to trace a messy red heart on his palm. Just to affirm his green light, he presses a kiss to the corner of Sumin's mouth. He leaves a shining red mark reminiscent of a lipstick stain that curves out of place as Sumin smiles at him. He's still so cute even when covered in his blood and the flush of sex high on his cheeks…

Jinsik spots the exact moment that Sumin’s heart melts; oozing slow and slick all over himself. No doubt this will make him sticky—well, even stickier than he already is—once he's fully ruined Jinsik. 

"I love you too." 

Jinsik's heart nearly stops for the first time in centuries. Had he really been that obvious? Of all the times he's ever been the first to say he loves someone, this is the only time he's meant it—and he hadn't even said it out loud! 

"Please don't be scared, jagi." Sumin's voice breaks him out of his panic. "Let me be good to you, my love." Jinsik melts under his words and his touch. What else can he do when Sumin truly is so good to him? "Are you okay to lie down?" Jinsik nods and lets Sumin push him down to the bed even though his skin has barely healed enough to keep his fractured bones inside him. It's fine, he likes how it hurts. 

Sumin is none the wiser, kissing him briefly before moving down to finally free him of the sticky, wet mess that is his pants. Jinsik chokes out a groan as the fabric is pulled—peeled, really—from his skin. He hadn't even noticed how uncomfortable it had been to be stuck in those while Sumin had his way with him. 

"Oh, jagi," Sumin coos. "I've made a mess of you, haven't I? Let me clean you up." He's kissing a line down Jinsik's chest to his cock—still hard despite everything—and taking him into his mouth before Jinsik can respond—not like he can, with the blood gurgling up in his throat. He doesn't have the lungs to moan with yet so he only chokes while Sumin takes him down to the hilt; cleans him up with his tongue in that way that never fails to make him cry. He's been crying for a long time; it's a wonder how he hasn't dropped from dehydration yet. Another thing to worry about later, he supposes. 

Sumin's teeth sink into his inner thigh hard enough to make him gasp—a proper gasp with air mixed in the blood this time—as if the cruel flick to his weeping cockhead wasn't enough to get his attention. 

"Stay with me, jagi. I'm not finished with you yet." he growls. Don't be, Jinsik begs internally; I'm yours forever, keep cutting until there's nothing left, just don't ever finish with me. Don't leave, don't grow bored of me. There's still too much blood built up in Jinsik's throat for him to say it out loud, so he hopes his gurgling whine will suffice. "Good boy," Sumin purrs. He kisses the head where he had flicked him, wet and open-mouthed in time with his hand jacking him off like something out of his most filthy wet dream. 

It isn't much longer before Jinsik is making a mess of himself under his beloved's lips; streaks of white joining the red already soaking his face and dripping down into a pretty pink that Sumin eagerly laps up. He's the perfect picture of debauched as he reaches for the knife again, and his voice is thoroughly wrecked when he speaks again: "Once you have your lungs back, I want to ask you something." 

He asks about as casually as one would talk about the weather, as if Jinsik isn't lying slit-throat and boneless on his bloodied sheets. He had already been light-headed from the blood gathered in his throat; that combined with his orgasm has him teetering dangerously close to unconsciousness. Not that he would mind if Sumin kept going while he was out, but… 

With the last vestige of his strength, he rolls onto his side so the near waterfall of his own blood can drain out of his mouth. It flows past their sheets onto the floor like a tide, cresting and receding in time with his body's weak struggles to keep his airways clear. Sumin just laughs fondly at his pain, too preoccupied with gathering the bloody cum from his face on his fingers and licking it off. 

"Go ahead," Jinsik wheezes, about as smoothly as if he had swallowed a shot of acid. There's still an odd bubbling sound to his words, but at least he's properly audible now. "You know that I'd let you do anything to me as long as you still love me, right?" 

"I know, and I do. God, I love you, Jinsik." The use of his name rather than the petname—rather generic, still thrilling when it came from Sumin's lips—stings ever so slightly until Sumin crawls up the bloody bed to kiss him. Jinsik would have expected anything other than the tenderness that Sumin presses to his lips. He kisses him like it's their wedding night, Jinsik's delirious brain supplies; and oh, how he would love for that to be reality. He'd wear the most pristine white just so Sumin could tear him apart and permanently dye it red. He faintly registers that he's been doing it to Sumin this entire time; every thrust of his knife has pulled another spray of red to stain the white shirt that he's still wearing. Jinsik's love has nearly drenched him. Is there something he's forgetting? 

"Yeobo," he whimpers against Sumin's lips. "Didn't you want to ask me something?" 

"Huh?" Sumin slurs. There's a mess of red smudged all over his face when he pulls back; swaying. Drunk on him. "Oh, right. I just…" He takes Jinsik's wrists and pins then above his head with surprising speed. "I wanna claim you, jagi. Can I, can I?" Jinsik spots the knife gleaming above him in Sumin's free hand. Not a threat, just a promise waiting on Jinsik's approval. 

"Please."

Sumin plunges the knife down as soon as the word leaves Jinsik's lips. Three times it parts the soft skin of Jinsik's arm, twisting about inside his flesh and between his bones. Twice it penetrates Jinsik's throat, deep enough to make him gag against its sharp edge. 

"Mine... You're all mine, jagiya," Sumin purrs between fervent kisses to Jinsik's bleeding neck. 

"Yours," Jinsik chokes out through another gush of blood. It runs down his lips and stains his skin in an unending river, his blessing that had once been a curse and is now a blessing again. His embrace tightens around Sumin's back and pulls the wound in his arm wider. More blood pours down his skin and stains Sumin's white shirt; how ironic that his life should touch Sumin like this. His love touches Sumin like this.

"I love you." Sumin's words are punctuated with the final thrust of his knife between Jinsik's ribs and piercing his heart. "I'm keeping you like this forever." 

Jinsik comes again with a broken cry. Both Sumin’s words and his knife reach deeper inside him than anything that Jinsik’s past lovers have touched him with and it’s more than he can bear, more than he's ever taken at once. Sumin watches him fall apart with nothing short of wonder. 

"Here I was thinking it was hard to come from being penetrated," he mutters under his breath; a joke meant only for himself. 

"You—" Jinsik spits out yet another mouthful of blood. "—clearly underestimate me." A devious idea lights up in his head once Sumin's joke registers and he grins up at him, his tongue curling around his teeth. "Want to fuck me with that knife?"

Sumin startles and pulls it halfway out, blood spurting out around it with every bump of its rough handle against his ribs. Jinsik, already trembling from oversensitivity, cries out in pleasure. Light-headed again from blood loss, Jinsik slurs out another joke. "So nice of you to use one with a ridged handle, yeobo. Feels sooo good inside me~" 

Sumin thrusts the knife back inside him with an endeared huff. 

"You're insane," he sighs over Jinsik's choked moan. "Good thing I am too, I had a similar idea." He pulls the knife all the way out before Jinsik can ask about it, leaving him to bleed while he finally strips off his bloodstained clothes. 

Sumin's naked body is truly a sight to behold. He's still decently toned despite being softer than Jinsik from more time spent at an easel than the gym, his strength stemming from a childhood spent playing sports out in the sun. He still casually indulges every time the weather permits him, his clumsy legs and arms easily carrying him through match after match that Jinsik is all too content to watch. 

Jinsik lets Sumin manhandle him farther up the bed and prop him against the soaked pillows, woozy from what little blood he has left in him rushing back down to his dick. 

"Like what you see, jagi?" 

Black spots dance about in Jinsik's already-blurred vision, but he nods anyway. He'll be sure to get on his knees to properly worship Sumin's cock later when he can actually see it. 

"That's a relief, I was getting self-conscious after seeing you." Jinsik can only manage a whine in protest. "I know, I know, you want to try and brush me off. Not going to happen, jagi." Sumin's blurry silhouette moves again, likely reaching for the knife. Sure enough, the blood-warmed metal presses against the skin under Jinsik's ribs a moment later. "You can get back at me later, just let me have this for now."

His words are punctuated by a thrust of the knife into Jinsik's skin, beneath and up into the soft flesh under his bones. He pulls it out and turns it perpendicular to its previous angle, driving it in again to widen the wound while Jinsik cries and writhes under him. Jinsik can faintly see his blood staining Sumin's skin with his hazy eyes. His bleeding heart has yet to heal—not that it could with Sumin's fingers working their way inside it. It squirts red halfway to Sumin's elbow, soaking it in blood that he then smears all over his cock. Lubing himself up. Oh, is he going to—

The answer to Jinsik's unspoken question comes with Sumin lining himself up with the dripping hole under his ribs and pushing his way between Jinsik's organs. The pressure against his freshly-regenerated lungs punches a breathless moan from him and he nearly blacks out, kept conscious only by the wave of pleasure that overtakes him. Sumin doesn't stop until he's buried to the hilt and Jinsik swears his dick is touching his heart, the intrusion twitching in time with his pounding pulse. While the knife had done a decent enough job at prepping him, his flesh still stretches around Sumin's cock in a way that has Jinsik's head spinning. 

"Fuck, jagi," Sumin groans. He knocks his head against the wall, fighting to keep his ragged breath steady. "You're so wet for me. M'not gonna last long like this." Jinsik heart—while physically bleeding—metaphorically soars at the admission. He affects Sumin this much?

"Hurry 'n fuck me then," Jinsik slurs. "Dare you t'come inside." 

"You're gonna kill me," Sumin whines, high and wrecked. "You're seriously going to fucking kill me." He starts moving after a moment's hesitation, his hands braced against his headboard for leverage. 

He fucks Jinsik slow but deep, each thrust touching his heart and punching a bloody, breathless moan from him. Jinsik's body convulses with every intrusion, each nerve set alight in his overstimulation. 

"You feel so good around me," Sumin moans. "Always so good for me." His rhythm starts to grow sloppy as he chases his own pleasure. "Fuck, I love you so much." 

Sumin's praise—along with the sensory overload that he's putting Jinsik through—finally tips him over the edge yet again, his neglected cock coming untouched for the second time tonight. 

"Sumin—yeobo—please," Jinsik cries, his voice trembling as he shakes through his orgasm. "Use me. Inside." 

Sumin's only response is a curse under his breath and a change of pace, fast and hard until there's a wet slapping sound accompanying his thrusts. Something tears inside Jinsik at the same time Sumin stills with a low groan, coming hot and heavy under Jinsik's ribs until it overflows. Jinsik can faintly feel it coating his heart and can't help the delirious smile that spreads across his face. No one else has ever had him this way. No one else ever will. 

"I love you," Sumin moans, breathless and shaky. "I love you so fucking much." 

Cum and blood gushes from Jinsik's ruined hole in a pink tide when Sumin pulls out of him. He rushes to lap it up, green hair staining red the instant his head rests against Jinsik's chest. 

"Love you too," Jinsik sighs. "More than anything." 

Sumin kisses him then, soft and sweet and tasting like both of them. Jinsik chases after it, too weak to do much more than suck it off Sumin's tongue while he recovers. His skin grows back together first and seals Sumin's release inside him, safe and warm in his chest.

"Why did you do that?" Jinsik whines. It's been hours since Sumin had damn near aired out their entire relationship to their whole fanbase. Perhaps he—and the rest of the group—have forgotten about it by now, but it had been pinballing in Jinsik's head since the praise first left Sumin's lips.

"Do what?" As predicted, Sumin is completely oblivious to what he does to Jinsik. It's a wonder how he can't feel Jinsik's heart hammering from where his head rests on Jinsik's shoulder. Jinsik's arm is wrapped around him, an unintentional mirror to how they had been before. The only difference is that there are no cameras this time, no one focused on them in this company van where the others are either asleep or have earbuds in. Here, they can be sweeter on each other.

"The—" Jinsik's throat closes on its own accord. He makes an indignant noise in lieu of finishing his sentence, digging his fingers into Sumin's shoulder; their little signal when Jinsik has something to say but can't bring himself to speak. Sumin gives a questioning hum. A quick glance into his eyes shows some muted concern, though he doesn't push Jinsik for an answer. He's always so patient even when Jinsik is having trouble putting up with himself, so understanding when Jinsik is so overwhelmed he can do nothing but cry. Since when has he gotten so lucky?

"Did I do something wrong, jagi?" Sumin starts to pull away from Jinsik, drawing back to get a better look at him. Jinsik curses at himself for his inability to communicate properly while worked up. He shakes his head, pulling Sumin back down into his arms. His weight comforts him enough that he can try again, huffing a deep breath against Sumin's hair.

"Earlier, when you were..." he flails for the words to finish his sentence, all his thoughts flying past in flashes. "Praising me. I-I mean, we were supposed to be doing a compliment relay, but you were still so..." He shrugs. "Open about it. You sounded like you really loved me."

"I do!" Sumin barrels on before Jinsik can get on him about people potentially hearing and their careers being on the line. "I wouldn't say those things if I didn't mean them. That would be cruel to you." His tone softens when Minjae gives them a funny look, both to soothe their leader's worries and to keep their secrets private. "Times have changed, we don't have to worry about that kind of thing anymore. Roady are very accepting, did you know that? They'll have our backs."

"Okay," Jinsik relents. "Just... I don't know, warn me next time? You surprised me, I would have actually responded properly if I knew you were going to say all that." He chews at the inside of his lip, a habit that he doesn't notice until Sumin pokes his cheek.

"Oh, jagi. Are you embarrassed because you got too flustered to say anything to me?" Sumin chases Jinsik's eyes until they meet, Jinsik catching a glimpse of a bright smile before he looks away again.

"Maybe," Jinsik mutters. "It's not that I don't like it, I just... I need time to prepare a response." He squeezes Sumin's shoulder again, his thoughts too frazzled to put them into words. Sumin hums in understanding. He taps at the notes on his phone, falling silent in solidarity with Jinsik going nonverbal. That's another thing that he loves about Sumin; he never holds any expectations for Jinsik to run himself ragged running at his speed. He slows down to Jinsik's level.

"I'm glad you told me, I'll keep that in mind <3" Sumin holds up his phone to Jinsik, the cursor blinking on another line for Jinsik's response.

"Ily :( You're too sweet to me" Jinsik types out with his free hand, holding it within Sumin's view. After a moment, he adds; "Kiss me?"