Sinister kid: 01
Title: Sinister Kid
Rating: R (for themes/AU-ness)
Summary: In which Key is a killer with a kink for sadism and Taemin is a sinister kid.
A/N: Wow I know several people are looking forward to this and it's probably weird that I'm posting it now. I figured I should to rid myself of this 4k installment I've been sitting on for ages in preparation for the next, because this arc is sort of my goodbye to "fandom" and will possibly mark the end of my involvement entirely: I'd like to motivate myself to make sure it gets completed. It's pretty lengthy, but please enjoy as best as you can! The parts will begin alternating after this, this is merely an introduction of sorts because things might be unclear for quite awhile. Thanks for reading. :^D
01
A starchy blonde takes one last drag from his Menthol light, tossing the carcass of his cancer stick to the ground and stepping it out before releasing a thick stream of smoke between his dry lips. He hates the taste of cigarettes but loves the Nicotine, how it sooths his nerves in ways his mother wouldn’t approve of. He fidgets on his feet, leaning with his palms against the iron bars separating him and the club flocked by early arrived party enthusiasts ten yards away. The sun casts mean rays of burning orange into the air, the whole scene stained with the hue of evening as more cars pull into the empty lots. Cars blasting with sub woofers and crammed to the hinges with cheering party girls. Everything smells dingy and sweaty with the last licks of a dying summer. Taemin’s kind of place.
His phone vibrates, beckoning his attention before he ends up digging more cigarettes from his pockets in boredom. He answers with a silent smile, the caller already roaring in his ear to get his ass inside before everyone shows up and crowds the flood gates. He’s hung up on before he can reply and so walks further down the iron gate, running his fingers along it merrily as he hears some music start up inside.
The main gate entrance is full of cars and cars make Taemin nervous. He picks the farther back exit, which is not really accessible unless you swing around the end of the iron gate over a six feet drop off into a drain ditch. He’s familiar with the path and has no problems, picking his way across a stretch of ugly dirt before reaching a set of stairs that lead to the upper pit level.
A wave of cold, stale air hits him as he slips in the heavy back door, greeted by strings of people who notice him briefly before turning back to their drinks and friends. He checks his phone for the time, barely past ten.
“Taemin!” Someone calls him from the railing of the pit edge, it’s not until Taemin goes closer that he recognizes Heechul with an over-elegant drink of something bright yellow glowing under the black lights flickering dimly from overhead. “Glad you made it, buddy.”
Taemin is taken under Heechul’s arm and directed towards the pit. The flood lights beam from the rafters further above. They fall blindingly upon a broad set-up stage below, where tech are still scrambling to correct sound equipment and position bass speakers last second.
“Why wouldn’t I make it?” Heechul smiles and pats him on the shoulder, starting to say something before he’s interrupted by a messenger, telling him that the performing acts have arrived and that Jia and Leetuek want to be first on the floor when it opens.
Taemin is left alone as Heechul and his group of followers shuffle away. He observes the people impatiently waiting downstairs, leaning on the rail and tapping his foot on the grating. Suddenly there’s a commotion moving through the throng of people down front, crowd shifting and laughing and moving out of the way for a group of people whom Taemin, in all of his three years attending, had never seen before.
He couldn’t see as well as he might have on ground level, but he knows there are three of them at the head; a smaller girl in lead, decked in flashy sweats, hair tied in high pig-tails, clasping hands with people as she goes sporting ridiculous enthusiasm. A taller, well-groomed man is behind her, his teased silver hair shimmering in the lights and garnishing many piqued looks from attracted females. He’s leaning in towards a third, a flax blonde shorter than himself who’s in a thick fur jacket that’s the colour of sick purple. His head turns smoothly as he observes the scene around him with an unflinching, feral gaze; nodding occasionally to acknowledge whatever his silver-haired friend was telling him.
Taemin plops down upon the grating beneath him, shifting to swing his legs over the edge of the pit to get a closer look. But they disappear shortly after, behind the prop door closing off the behind-stage area. Performing act.
Some time later the exhausted sound of the flood lights going off triggers cheering among the bloated crowds. People are even behind Taemin, stranger’s knees occasionally pressing into his back in an effort to catch a view. From the rafters another set of lights are switched on, spilling bright colours on the dance space around the stage as people begin to fill in, waiting for the music to start so they can begin their escapades. A loud rift of noise spikes from the speakers on the dark stage, bouncing into a series of catchy beats before it lights up into an explosion of music and brightness. There are full out screams of excitement, the swarms of people coming alive as they begin moving in sync. The stage is seizing with strobe lights, the DJ at his sound board towards the back as the trio from before prances out to center stage. They do what they can to entertain, pulling people onstage and occasionally breaking out into song.
The two men play out rap battles, the blonde Taemin saw before occasionally taking a lucky rave-goer up to grill and pass between. The girl is vicious when it comes to crunking, tearing the competition apart when someone is pulled up to show off. She does the backing vocal for everything, clear and pretty and lethal. Yet still their existence is mute for the most part, the sea of dancing bodies being the main attraction. Even upstairs people are dancing.
Taemin finally pulls himself together when a fluttering starts in his stomach, getting up and walking towards the stairs. People farthest away from the pit are sitting at sleek tables under the bask of black lights and lamps, drinking and relaxing with friends. If you’re observant you’ll even catch lovers getting affectionate against the walls. He stares at them confidently as he passes, gliding down the stairs with sureness in his step. The ground floor is even more populated, people focused and fascinated by the dance floor. Taemin slips in, finding his rhythm and warmly greeted by awes and cheers as he joins the mass of moving limbs with pops and twirls, moving over the floor and through the bodies like liquid. The cities finest.
-
At 3 A.M Taemin is stumbling off of the dance floor, his legs unsteady and jelly-like, exhaustion threatening to seep into his bones as he tries to find a drink or two and a quiet place to sit. The people have dispersed some, the light-weights giving up and going home to rid their skin of glitter and sweat. But Heechul and the others are still present, casually slinking around the ground floor getting wasted. Taemin tries to take up conversation with some girls but the dizziness behind his eyes kills his desire. He gets a strong drink and sits on one of the rolling bar’s anchoring kegs, checking his phone and scanning the stage.
Again he couldn’t keep his gaze from the blonde rapper, the one sitting at an end of the stage with a section of the crowd- laughing at them loudly as they joked and played around with him, another act having taken his group’s place long ago. Taemin remembers dancing to his piercing voice earlier, remembers breathing hard and feeling friction in his shoes hyped on his frequency alone. There was something oddly fascinating about the man, something Taemin felt slowly simmering in his gut.
The music started calming down by the time Taemin drained his fifth glass of nameless liquor. He had no idea what time it was, but figured it was late when the performance act filed to the backstage area heavily surrounded by tag-alongs, drenched in sweat and accepting bottles of water from the stage crew. Taemin spots the blonde immediately, a flutter growing in his stomach again as his alcohol-induced senses have him shuffling in that direction. He gets backstage unquestioned, losing track of the rap trio but instead discovering a series of doors leading to various green rooms.
It appears he picks the right one to go inside, noticing immediately a lilac fur jacket lying over the back of the room’s bland couch. There is a small stand at the opposite side of the room, a lit mirror against the wall on top of it and make-up utensils skewed about the tabletop randomly.
Taemin feels a little all over the place still, picking up a tube of glitter and opening it out of curiosity, the contents spilling through his hands. He curses and places it back on the table, shaking the messy glitter from his palms and wiping it on his jeans.
Then he hears something, a muffled scrape against the door and a click of the knob as someone attempts to enter. He panics, scrambling into the closet next to the make-up station. He yanks the door shut behind him but it catches, unable to close all of the way from the lock. He steps away from the tiny crack it leaves instead, trying to hide himself in the dark. He hears people stumble in noisily, the hushed sounds of mouths glued together all too obvious and he shutters; his hopes sinking because he hopes it’s not who he thinks it might be. Against what he knows he shouldn’t do and doesn’t really want to do, he slowly leans towards the door, peeking into the line of light.
It was who he thought. Sucking face with a girl who didn’t seem in the least bit on level with him, at least to Taemin. Finally getting a good look at him, he confirmed that the performer was painfully gorgeous. His hair was dank and matted from the show, roots adding a collective hue of brown, complexion smooth and milky even under the streaks his sweat made in his foundation. He had a sharp, defined jawline, and his feline eyes were still stained with brown eyeliner but remained bright and fascinating, despite the rim of his eyelids looking slightly too pink and irritated. The way they touched each other wasn’t familiar or intimate in any way, so Taemin thinks someone from the audience. A hook up.
Taemin nearly yelps when suddenly they’re pressing to the other side of the closet door, grunting and making satisfied noises as the boy concealed within the closet chews his lip dejectedly. He didn’t want to be there anymore, wishing he wasn’t.
They move away from the door shortly after, tempting Taemin to the crack again but his footing gets mixed and the next thing he registers is being on his knees and hands, something from the closet floor had wrapped around his ankle by accident. But the door is ajar now, Taemin in the open and the rapper and his quickie startled and gaping at him. He looks up at them pathetically, tugging his foot free and getting to his feet.
“Augh, what are you doing?!” The girl is the one to break the silence; she’s flushed red and looks victimized, angry. “Get out!”
“S-sorry,” Taemin stutters, freezing a moment to lock eyes with the rapper before shooting for the door, his face burning and a confusing hard-on brewing in his groin.
Heechul is somehow in the backstage hall with his posse as Taemin leaves, waving to him as he passes and calls after him when he doesn’t stop. Taemin doesn’t feel like being bothered.
He doesn’t stop for anyone until he’s back on his keg, breathing heavily through his nose and holding his head to stop his vision from spinning. Taemin feels sick, disappointed; a hard guilt settling in the pit of his stomach where once a fluttering flourished.
Then he sees her, the girl from the rapper’s room storming out of the prop doors, not looking in the least bit satisfied as she might’ve been expecting she would by now.
I’m glad I ruined it for you.
-
The club’s bathrooms are clean. Taemin remembers being in them for the first time three years ago and marveling over the fact after he threw up all eleven of his distasteful Appletinis- worried he would get his jeans dirty. He bends over the toilet in the second stall once again that night, sitting back against the wall when he finishes and pulls handfuls of toilet paper off of the roller to wipe his mouth clean. He chuckles at the trails hanging out of the toilet after he tosses the paper in, getting up clumsily to flush the sight and smell of his vomit away. Alcohol goes right through him.
Once he rinses his face off in the sinks outside, he feels better; his dizziness beginning to subside. There is no rhyme or reason to his drunken stupor and he feels relieved that he didn’t stick with Heechul like he chose to do the time they came here a few months ago. He’d have ended up streaking with the others again or hanging out of Leetuek’s car as he threw up on the side of the vacant, sleeping highway.
He checks himself in the mirror for a moment, trying to comb his hectic blonde stands back into place and thinking for a second that his hair colour would match that rapper’s. He doesn’t think to notice the other people milling around in the restroom as well, missing a familiar blonde staring at him one sink over.
It gets quiet suddenly, and Taemin glances around with a furrowed brow- double-taking when he sees what he didn’t expect. His face grows hot like before, the shame of being caught in a club-act’s dressing room closet while he’s trying to score resurfacing in his mind. He frowns when the man begins grinning at him, irritated that he’s so attractive and just standing there with a weird look in his eye.
“Uhm..can I help you?” Taemin reaches down to turn the faucet that’s been running- off, wiping his hands on his thighs like he always does.
“Maybe you can,” Taemin swallows and looks away, that voice rattling his loose senses all too much. “see, there was this kid in my room earlier, falling out of my closet. He looked like he might’ve enjoyed what he sa-,”
“That was an accident.” Taemin finds himself jumping to his own defense all too quickly, “I didn’t mean to get caught.”
He immediately regrets his choice of words when the guy laughs, loud and clear and oddly high pitch compared to his speaking tone. But his amusement rings lively, and Taemin likes the sound of it. “T-that’s not what I meant, I didn’t mean to be there. I mean I did but, in the closet- I..” When did it become so hard to form proper sentence?
“It’s okay,” The rapper is closer now, coming behind him and meeting his gaze in the mirror. He’s so close that it has a shudder zipping up Taemin’s spine. He leans his jaw near Taemin’s shoulder innocently, near enough to touch him if he wanted to but never doing so.
“Key.” Taemin’s stomach does a little flip when the blonde appraises his body in the mirror from behind; eyes hooding as his gaze drops. “I’m Key.”
“Taemin.” He finds it hard to look into Key’s eyes when they’re on his again, struggling not to lean back incidentally. At least he knew his name now.
“You dance, right? I saw you in the crowd.” Key mused, a teasing grin never leaving his lips. “By yourself. You prefer dancing alone?”
Whoa, twenty questions. Taemin takes a moment to respond, turning around a bit and shaking his head a little, but before anything actually comes out of his mouth, Key wraps a hand around his wrist bravely. “Would you dance with me?”
Do you expect me to say no? Taemin simply nods and he’s pulled from the bathroom, Key stepping with an excitement that makes his gut twist in unmentionable ways.
Key takes Taemin to the very center of the pitch dark dance floor, the stage in a low blue light that flickers with the drops of the track playing. It’s the only source of light, faceless bodies moving around with each other in a slower ceremony, purposely drawn out to derive the satisfaction of having your hands all over the person you’re dancing with. Taemin lied about not preferring to dance alone, he normally shied away because it was slightly embarrassing, the kind of shameless contact they indulged in- but it wasn’t like he couldn't do it if he wanted to.
He tries to find Key’s face in the dark and vaguely makes out the line of his shoulders against the stage instead, leaning forward to fit his arms around the area snugly; a pair of hands sliding onto his hips like they were barely even there. Taemin’s dizziness is gone and he barely hesitates pressing himself against the other.
It’s unexpectedly easy, feeding off of the graceful rolls of Key’s body that flick with the deep vibration of the music’s bass- and Taemin gives graciously in return, attempting to impress the other by following obediently in his lead. He gets impatient with the amount of space still between them, tugging himself in closer; noting that the other smells good despite his previous activities. Key is taller than him, so it’s a tad strained- Taemin trying to keep himself from sneaking onto the tip of his toes.
Taemin doesn’t catch what Key says in his ear, and is about to inquire when he feels the slide of a knee pressing into his crotch gently. His breath catches in his throat as he panics momentarily- trying to process if that really happened, and nearly chokes up when Key does it again. He bites the inside of his bottom lip, hands finding their way into Key’s hair slowly as if to make sure it was permitted. But he approves, sliding his own hands just below Taemin’s ass to adjust to their proximity.
They ride out the song just like that, fading into another and another until they’re both panting and mere increments away from each other’s faces. Taemin doesn’t want to ruin the art of the moment or anything but he’s hard, hoping Key can ignore it and that it isn’t as obvious as he knows it is. It’s his fault anyway, moving so damn well.
Their last song fades out and from over the music Taemin hears someone calling his name. He ignores it until he realises who it is.
“Taemin! Hey, Tae!” Heechul is leaning over the pit rail upstairs, shouting loud enough that bystanders are looking now, “Hey buddy, if you want a ride home, you’d better c’mon.”
He quickly evaluates the risks of walking all the way back home at this time of night all by himself, a bubble of annoyance forming at the back of his throat when he accepts that it’s not an option. The two ill-lit bodies have stopped moving but neither of them have let go of the other until now; Taemin unwillingly inching away with an apologetic expression he hopes Key can see.
“Don’t go.” Key’s arms loosely wrap around his waist suddenly, possessively, and he leans in like he might kiss Taemin but it doesn’t happen.
“I’m sorry,” Taemin glances up to Heechul who appears to be saying bye to some people. Then he looks back at Key, a stream of light from the stage lighting up the man’s face long enough for Taemin to spot the location of the other’s lips. He stares at where he knows they are, “My ride is leaving.”
“I’ll take you home.” Taemin thinks he almost hears a plea in Key’s voice.
“Key..” Taemin maneuvers them around so that he can see Key’s blue-lit profile properly. “I barely know you.”
The taller blonde’s face falls, but he nods because he understands. “Give me your phone.”
Taemin waits for Key to put his number in, getting yelled at from across the room still as Heechul and Leetuek strut loudly towards the front entrance. Key hands him his phone again before stalling him one last time to murmur in his ear, “I’ll call you.”
Taemin smiles and backs away from him through the crowd, every part of him aching to stay.
-
It’s nearly 5A.M. when Heechul’s white 93’ Firebird screeches to a stop in front of Taemin’s house; the sun just waking up in the distance. Taemin hisses at him for the hundredth time to stop doing that every time he drops him off, and then clambers over some one’s lap to get out. They all laugh and tell Taemin their goodbyes before peeling away, reving noisily once they’re a good distance down the street.
He shakes his head at them, running up to the front of his house and climbing atop the trash bins huddled against the foot of the porch stairs clumsily and ascends the skeleton of the wooden rose vine rack hugging the side of house, shimmying on his belly over the edge of the roof when he gets there.
He bends down and walks carefully to his window, avoiding the others at level with his feet, quietly scaling the thin metal ladder leading to where his air conditioning unit is supposed to be, but is instead temporarily replaced with a pillow that he pushes in and clamors inside after.
He rolls onto his floor once in the clear, picking his heavy shoes off and removing his sticky shirt. Before he can relax he gets up and sets the air conditioning unit back into the window from his desk with ease. Just as he climbs in his bed, his phone goes off, vibration splitting the silence of his room. He answers it quickly, leaning back over to switch on the unit so it kicks to life and covers his low voice as he mumbles hello. The one noise his parents won’t be bothered by at this hour.
“Hey, Princess.” A grin flashes across Taemin’s face briefly, and he flips over onto his back.
“Since when did forty-eight hours get so short?”
Key sounds spent as he chuckles from the other end, voice dropping into a surprisingly low tone as he explains,“I was sad when you left.”
There it was. Taemin shivered a bit just on his voice alone, suddenly aware he wasn’t visible to anyone, with the uncomfortable remnants of two wasted erections still aching in his hips. He gets the wild idea to reach between his legs, skimming the outline of his dick just to see if it did anything for him.
“Were you?” His drained voice hitches a bit as he rushes to respond to a conversation he almost forgot he was having.
“Yeah,” Another chuckle, “Your hips are insane, Taemin.” Key could’ve easily said moves, but he didn’t. He stresses Taemin’s name in such a way that the boy gets it, hand sneaking into his jeans as he tries to focus on Key’s voice and what his imagination tells him he might have done to Taemin if he had accepted that ride home. “Tell me you’ll be at the club next Friday.”
“If you want me to be,” Taemin’s already palming himself, wishing he could offer more in his statement.
“I do.” He sighs, “It’s the last night of our tour season.”
“Oh-” Taemin responds more to his own touches than to Key, words near breathless.
“....are you okay?” Key asks when Taemin doesn’t say anything further, going on about how he hopes he isn’t creeping Taemin out or anything for someone he just met at a club but he’s never confronted about it.
“I-I’ll be there,” Taemin sounds kind of pathetic but he’s deft to anything Key might perceive from his strange behavior, too busy letting the rapper’s voice run through him as he touches himself.
“Okay, great!” Taemin is then honestly trying not to laugh at the situations he puts himself in. “Save a dance for me, okay?”
Taemin inhales sharply, orgasm leaving his body all too soon. He holds back any sort of sound and tries to answer Key as sweetly as he can without letting what he just did leak into his tone. “Okay~”
“Bye, Taemin,” Key hangs up on him before he has a chance to say anything and he tosses his phone away guiltily.
What is wrong with you Lee Taemin?