[Fic] Engine Grease & Bad Drivers
Title: Engine Grease & Bad Drivers
Pairing: YooMin.
Rating: NC-17
Genre: ...smut? AU Smut.
Warnings: Dubcon/really it's mostly just rape. And language. But you're reading smut, are you really worried about swear words?
Notes: First smut fic. Just... take it.
Disclaimer: While I would like to cover them in grease and oil and many, many other fluids, I haven't, and probably won't.
Summary: Changmin runs the best garage in town, and it's a hot spot for racers who need to get their rides fixed up. Yoochun is a frequent customer who seems to want more than just his car to get Changmin's special treatment.
The racer's name was Park Yoochun. He was, to Changmin, just another one of his clients. It didn't matter how Yoochun leered. The strangely attractive smirk that washed over his face when Changmin caught him doing so meant nothing, either. He was a young, arrogant street racer who had blown up his ride several times, and that was all he would ever be. The first time he'd shown up with his burned out car, he'd signed his name on the paperwork, collected something shiny that had dangled from the rearview mirror, and, after running his eyes up and down Changmin's body in an obvious fashion, he'd climbed wordlessly into the passenger seat of JaeJoong's car. The pair had sped off.spitting up dust and leaving behind the smell of burning rubber and a very displeased young man.
Changmin had taken an immediate disliking to Yoochun. Several times over the last few months, the man had shown up at his garage, his car strapped into the bed of HyunJoong's tow truck; Changmin inwardly cursed himself every time for having hired HyunJoong on to work at his garage. Yoochun had no grasp on the concept of personal space, and Changmin did not enjoy having his personal bubble breached. This time, when HyunJoong pulled into the lot with the familiar white car in tow, Changmin immediately groaned and ducked back into the garage.
"He's back again?" Minho murmured, working a washcloth between his fingers in a vain attempt to remove the grease he'd managed to put his hands in. The youngest member of their team, he had only recently been hired on, but he'd still been around for every single one of Yoochun's visits. "I'm starting to wonder if he blows up his car just so he can come here and get you to fix it."
Changmin scowled and shoved the young man toward the door.
"You go. He's always a creepy dick whenever he comes in, I'm tired of dealing with him." Before Minho could protest, Changmin had ducked into the adjoining office and shut the door, leaving his dongsaeng to suffer through Yoochun's lusty stares and annoying attitude.
Their garage was a hot spot for street racers; when something went desperately wrong with a car, it was likely to be found in the lot of Changmin's garage, waiting for fixing. While most racers could work on their own cars in their own places and on their own time, it was a well-known fact that Shim Changmin was better at it than any of them could ever dream of being. Any car that his hands had touched was guaranteed to run better, accelerate faster. Business had increased exponentially after JaeJoong had started singing the praises of his workshop to all his friends.
It was great to be so busy, and the money was good. The only problem seemed to be Park Yoochun. Never before had Changmin had a client that he had disliked so strongly. If he actually owned the place, he'd waste no time in refusing Yoochun's car every time it came in, and in telling him that they didn't need his business. But Yoochun was friends with both HyunJoong and the man who rented the garage to the young mechanic; as much as Changmin owned the business, and could do whatever he pleased, he stood to have himself evicted from the premises if Yoochun went and called up Yunho and complained.
Rock and hard place, meet Changmin.
Even as he leaned his back against the office door, he heard the racer's voice, its loudness carrying into the garage easily, and he rolled his eyes. Minho was getting sworn at for existing; Changmin absently reached for the doorknob to lock himself in. He was just not going to deal with Yoochun today. Again. Ever.
Someone shoved against the door as he pressed the lock, turning the knob at the same time and effectively stopping him from pressing the lock in all the way. Safety, breached. The mechanic bit down on his lip and pushed back, trying to get the door closed again; a body slammed against the door again, and he stumbled away from it as it burst open.
Fucking Park Yoochun. Such an asshole. Changmin straightened up, face flushing and eyes full of defiance as his office was invaded. Yoochun stepped in and immediately slammed the door shut in Minho's face. Thoughtlessly, Changmin perched himself on the edge of the desk, long legs stretching out before him as his arms crossed over his chest. A deep frown etched itself into his forehead as Yoochun stepped forward, immediately invading Changmin's personal space. Not that he cared. He never seemed to.
"What the fuck is your problem?"
Oh lord, how Changmin wanted to answer that question. He bit on the inside of his cheek, considering his options. His automatic urge was to tell the truth; not only did he not like Yoochun at all, he was sure he downright hated the pretty race boy. He wanted to tell him that he could take his car and whatever was wrong with it and get the hell out of his garage, because damnit, he didn't like dealing with creepy idiots.
But he also wanted to not lose his garage. So the younger man merely shrugged before placing one hand against Yoochun's chest and pushing him, forcing him back a step or two. The man didn't allow himself to be moved very far, and a hand reached up to run through his long hair in exasperation. Changmin was, once again, struck with a terrifying, fascinating anticipation; Yoochun's entire stance, the way his other hand curled into a fist at his side... it made his stomach turn, though he tried not to show it. They both knew that Changmin was bigger, stronger - his exposed arms and obvious height showed that rather clearly. But they also both knew that, should Yoochun swing that fist, Changmin wouldn't retaliate.
Minho tapped lightly on the door, and they both ignored it.
"Who do you think you are, mechanic? I don't come here to have you send the fucking hired help out to me," Yoochun snapped finally, hand falling heavily from his hair as he once more stepped forward and invaded Changmin's personal space. The fingers fisted themselves into Changmin's sleeveless shirt, giving him a sharp jerk that made half his body bounce. Annoyed, he met the racer's angry eyes with his own, and stared him down. "I don't want them. I don't trust their hands on my car."
Changmin's frown creased his forehead violently. "I wouldn't have hired them if they weren't completely competent, sir." A hand wrapped around Yoochun's wrist, fingers pressing into his skin. "Do you really think my mechanics so unqualified, that you kicked my door in and..." He looked at the very small space between their two bodies, an air of distaste evident all around him, "...assaulted me?"
Yoochun's brown eyes widened slightly, and Changmin took advantage of his slight surprise to try and force him back again. The asshole, however, refused to be displaced so easily, and he leaned his face closer, breath hot on Changmin's face.
He smelled like Mexican food.
It was really, really unappealing.
"Just fix my car, you bitchy little fuck. Yourself. If I find out you let that little shithead-" The door opened quietly, the small snick of the lock barely registering to either of the obviously annoyed men, and said 'little shithead' poked his head into the room, "-touch my car..."
He jerked his arm again, but Changmin was tensed up and barely moved with the action, so Yoochun moved his mouth to the younger man's ear, voice dropping to a deadly whisper. It probably would have sent any other person into a panic attack, but Changmin merely bit the inside of his lip and tilted his head, stretching his neck to get the heat out of his ear.
"You will regret it."
Changmin already regretted having ever opened this garage in the first place. With a frustrated growl, he finally gave Yoochun a hard shove, but the man was already stepping back and away from him, fingers releasing their grip on his clothes. Rolling his eyes, he ignored the asshole racer's annoyed mutterings at Minho, didn't even comment about his dongsaeng getting shoved roughly against the doorframe as Yoochun left in a huff. He merely straightened up, took a deep breath, and moved around the desk to collapse into the chair.
Good god, he really hated that man. Everything about him. The overbearing attitude, the fact that he swore every other word. The way he dressed, like he was worth more than everyone else. The way his eyes had roamed over Changmin's long, lithe body one too many times. It made his stomach turn, every time he thought about it.
"He wants you, hyung." Minho rubbed his shoulder as he leaned against the doorframe. Changmin set a glare on him, one designed to shut him the hell up without question. Minho sucked his bottom lip into his mouth worriedly at that look.
"I'm aware. Go fix his fucking car."
He wasn't afraid of Park Yoochun.
Though the twisting in his stomach disagreed vehemently.
--
It was just Changmin's luck that Yoochun had damaged his car in such a way that he would have to be the one to fix it. He'd busied himself that day with going through receipts, balancing books, and then working over an engine in a car belonging to a far less vexing customer. He'd just replaced the spark plugs when the youngest worker approached him, his tentative touch on the head mechanic's shoulder not enough to surprise him. Changmin glanced at him, eyebrow raised questioningly as he swiped the back of a hand across his cheek. He ended up leaving more grime behind than he wiped away, but scarcely had the attention for it.
"I can't do it."
The tall man scowled as he straightened up, pulling himself out from under the hood of the car completely.
"What do you mean, you can't do it? I don't care if the fucking prick wants me to fix it, I'm telling you to do it." Minho's mouth opened and closed several times, no sound coming out despite the guppy-like action, and the scowl grew more pronounced as it finally dawned on Changmin. "He did something ridiculously stupid, didn't he."
As Minho led him to where the car sat, silent and bothersome on their floor, Changmin pondered over the many things Yoochun had previously done to it. He had an alarming knack for blowing things up, and then coming back and complaining as if Changmin's work had been at fault. Each time, Changmin had fervently pointed out that nothing he'd worked on was anywhere near the part in question. Once, he'd suggested that Yoochun work on becoming a better driver.
He'd gotten hit for that. A finger traced along his jawline in memory; even with that, the asshole had too much sway over the young man's business. How cruel was the world, to allow such things? His teeth found the corner of his lip, and he chewed absently as Minho tugged him in front of the thing and pointed.
"He blew the fucking engine up. Like completely. I can't fix that. I don't even know if you can fix that, hyung."
The entire engine, and the cavity that it inhabited, was black. Changmin narrowed his eyes at it, fingers moving quickly and quietly over parts, before he finally realised what had happened. Yoochun had thrown a rod, and the engine had lit itself on fire. The idiot had apparently let it burn or something, because there were parts that now needed replacing that wouldn't have, had the fire been put out quick enough.
"Goddamnit. Go finish the one I was working on, I know you can do that much."
He resigned himself to tearing apart the engine, and in the back of his head, he could hear the paranoid little voice saying that this entire thing was intentional. But Park Yoochun was nothing without his car, so of course it couldn't have been done on purpose. Right? Not even he would be that stupid.
About halfway through the night, he became vaguely aware of the feeling that he was being watched. Body covered in black streaks, he peered around the car, and caught HyunJoong, standing just outside the office door and watching him intently. Changmin frowned, but went back to his work, ignoring the little smile on his tow truck driver's face.
Though he swore he could see a hint of guilt in it. And it made him even more paranoid. Even as he closed the garage doors, and said goodnight to Minho and HyunJoong, he felt like somebody was staring at him. Like something bad was going to happen. He climbed the stairs to the apartment he'd converted on the second floor, and slipped inside.
Unable to shake the foreboding feeling, Changmin nonetheless went about his nightly routine. His shower was longer than normal; the water ran down his legs, black rivulets that gave way to a washy grey, finally going completely clear after the third time he scrubbed himself down. The grease and soot from tearing apart Yoochun's engine was insistently ground into his skin and short hair, clinging in pores and holding stubbornly even under the scalding hot water. He gave up working at the stains on his hands; every night, he made a futile effort to dislodge the black spots from his skin, and every night, they proved to be far too deeply engrained. Hair dripping in his eyes, he stepped out into the steam-filled bathroom and dried himself off, half-distracted by his attempts to remember what was on tv that night. He ignored the idea of boxers and instead slipped on only his sweatpants before taking a beer from the fridge and flopping sideways onto his mattress, idly flicking through channels as he downed the drink.
He was halfway into his fourth bottle, and well on his way to blocking out the strange nervousness that churned up his stomach, when someone knocked on the door.
More like slammed into it. He hadn't heard the footsteps approaching up the stairwell, nor had he heard any knocks previous to what sounded like a fist punching his door. Startled, he almost dropped his beer, and he simply stared across the room in surprise. The silence following the thud almost made him wonder if he'd imagined it, and he was about to go back to his drinking and some variety show he rarely had time to watch when it happened again.
THUD.
"...the hell," he murmured, frowning as he set the bottle down on the table and stepped closer to the door.
The third hit knocked it open as he reached for the knob, and a hand shot out of the darkness just outside and grabbed his extended arm. Changmin bit back a surprised yelp, and as the figure stepped into the dim light of his apartment, he let loose a string of curses that would put a sailor to shame.
Fucking. Park. Yoochun.
"Get the fuck out of here before I call the police," Changmin snapped, attempting to dislodge himself from Yoochun's grip. The fingers tightened, pressing into his flesh painfully, and he fought to keep his face from showing the wince. "What are you even doing here, the garage is closed-"
Yoochun's other hand shot out and pressed hard over the tall young man's mouth. Changmin jerked backward, away, but the asshole followed, ignoring as fingers dug into his skin in another attempt to get him off. He gave a shove, sending Changmin's head jerking back against the wall as they reached it. Bright spots popped before his eyes, and a cold panic rushed his chest. What the fuck was going on here?! His mouth worked beneath Yoochun's palm, determined to bite him and force him away, but it was pointless.
The racer slammed the mechanic's captive arm against the wall and pressed his body close. Changmin could practically taste the aura of drunkenness that surrounded him, could smell the alcohol on his ragged breath. His intoxication was fueling Changmin's own buzz, combining with the overall panic and anxiety that was filling him up and making him feel heavy and unable to move, to fight back. His free hand tugged fruitlessly at Yoochun's arm, and he gave his body an uncoordinated jerk in effort to get out from between the wall and the asshole. Yoochun's hand only pressed harder over his lips, bringing up the vaguest ache as they pressed too hard against his teeth.
"Mmmbofm," the mechanic demanded, body jerking again. It seemed little more than a spasm, however, as Yoochun pushed himself closer; Changmin's breath caught for a moment before coming heavier and faster through his nose. While the twenty-two year old was tall, and strong, everyone knew. Everyone knew that he hated being touched, that extreme proximity to anyone made him begin the rapid descent into incoherent anxiety. It was why he hated Park Yoochun so much; he was forever in Changmin's bubble, standing too close to allow comfort, and letting his eyes linger where they shouldn't have lingered.
"You let that little fuck touch my car," the racer whispered, turning the mechanic's head to the side and licking the skin just beneath his ear. Changmin shuddered and mumbled something indecipherable. "I don't like people touching my things. Apparently, neither do you."
For the first time in his life, Changmin felt that it was unfortunate that he lived alone. The hand finally left his mouth, and dug into Yoochun's pocket, but Changmin's throat was far too constricted with disbelieving horror at that moment to even consider screaming loud enough for the neighbours to hear. Not that they even would; it was late, and these walls were thick, and he was completely distracted from thinking about it by the feel of Yoochun's teeth.
Terror bloomed like a flower in his stomach. Eyes widening, he tried to become smaller against the wall, to get away from the mouth leaving red marks down the side of his neck. It didn't hurt, really; he was far too used to getting caught on an engine, cutting himself in the shop, to let some little pinpricks qualify themselves as pain. But it brought on the sudden realisation of just what Yoochun seemed to be doing. He was working with purpose. As he reached the exposed collarbone, he wrapped his mouth around it, sucking on the skin before digging his teeth into its edge. Changmin gasped, hand knotting itself into Yoochun's jacket in a renewed attempt to push him off.
Something wrapped around his wrist, and he could feel Yoochun grinning against his skin.
"You're not going to just let me punish you, are you," he asked flatly, pulling the leather strap tight against Changmin's arm. Spastic breaths wracked the taller man's body as he stared at it, as Yoochun allowed his mouth to stop its assault so he could look around the small room. The smile turned into a frown when he realised that there was nothing particularly useful here; Changmin's bed was merely a mattress on the floor, no headboard or anything, and there was a minimal amount of furniture. None of it was sturdy enough to suit his needs. Changmin almost felt the slightest relief, the idiotic thought that maybe he'd just leave if it was unsatisfactory crossing his mind.
But the grin returned as Yoochun took a half a step back. With sudden force, he pulled Changmin from the wall and flipped him around. The mechanic's shoulder caught painfully as his arm was twisted behind him, the leather strap unforgiving of his human limitations and Yoochun unwilling to let it go. His other arm ended up pressed between his chest and the wall; Yoochun stepped in again, the heat of his body uncomfortably obvious.
"Come with me." He made it obvious that, should Changmin struggle, he'd make it very painful for him. The leather was flush with his skin, unyielding as the mechanic was separated from the wall and marched from his room.
Out the door, down the stairs, past the office door, and straight into the garage. Yoochun walked him past two of the three cars, stopping at one that belonged to an elderly customer who had been in a minor accident. Changmin's stilted breathing and their footsteps had echoed through the large garage, eerie in a place that was normally so loud.
"You're doing this... over a fucking car," the man finally spat, words hitching as the racer twisted his arm a bit more. "You've had your fun, now let g-aaah."
Yoochun turned him again, letting the pressure off his arm and seizing his other wrist once more. He pushed the mechanic against the old man's car with his body, hips bumping against his captive's; Changmin felt the bumper press into his calves and he flopped backwards onto the hood to escaped the closeness. Half-naked body squirmed, arms suddenly fighting as Yoochun forced his wrists together and wrapped the rest of the length around them. As strong as his muscles were, once the leather was secured, there was no escaping it. It was far too thick and sturdy to rip by force alone, and Changmin used his bare feet to push himself further up on the car's hood.
The racer didn't like his trying to escape the well-earned punishment, it seemed. Fingers knitted into Changmin's hair, pulling his head and shoulders forward, and Yoochun's mouth smashed against his own. Yoochun's lips were open, working for a kiss that Changmin neither wanted nor returned; the mechanic's entire body went stiff, jaw setting as his lips remained unyieldingly shut. Eyelids pressed down, the only effort his body made to block out what was happening, and a low whimper pooled in his mouth.
"This is going to happen either way," Yoochun whispered against his lips, tugging achingly at his hair. "You really should just play along."
The younger man pressed his bound wrists against Yoochun, separating their bodies as much as he could; the racer sighed in disgust. He'd been expecting a fight; he knew how Changmin got whenever he stood too close, whenever he laid a hand on him. He was well aware of the fact that the man wasn't attracted to him, wasn't attracted to anyone, it seemed. It drove him mad. His obsession with Changmin had grown exponentially since they'd first met, and tonight... tonight, he was either going to make or break this fucking mechanic.
"Up," he demanded, shifting his grip on Changmin's hair and dragging him to his feet. A hiss escaped the man at the abuse and he followed along rather than letting it continue. He didn't stop until they'd reached a piece of equipment, and the mechanic's face visibly paled. It was the machine they used to lift engines out of cars; merely a small hydraulic crane-type thing, with long chains that hung silently, waiting for the next time they'd need to be used. Yoochun considered it, his eyes thoughtful behind the light glaze of alcohol, and then gave another tug on his prisoner.
Changmin resisted.
"I swear I'll rip your head right off your shoulders if you don't move." The threat was sharp, accompanied by another angry yank that brought hot tears to the back of Changmin's eyes. His stomach gave a strange turn, an unfamiliar feeling churning in there, and Changmin stepped forward. "Arms up. Over your head."
In the end, he had to knock the mechanic to the floor to do what he wanted. Changmin was not willing to allow himself to be tied to the damn lift, no matter how hard Yoochun pulled at his hair or how many times the man threatened him with bodily harm. A swift kick to the back of his knees put him on them, eyes swimming from the pain at the back of his head, and the racer busied himself with wrapping the chains all the way down both of Changmin's arms. When he fought back, his movements were paused by a violent bite on the soft spot between his neck and shoulder, teeth digging in deep enough to leave a mark that would probably still show come the end of the week.
The mechanic first winced at the feel of cold metal and warm fingers on his arms. Yoochun seemed to be having quite a good time, fingertips tracing along Changmin's skin in a way that conflicted with his overall attitude since he'd appeared. The touches were light, tantalising. They drew a shiver up his spine, set his breathing uneven again. Warmth pooled in his abdomen, and to his horror, he found that the man's hands were making him want their touches. And the racer seemed to realise it. When he'd finished securing the man's arms, he pulled away with a smirk and moved to the control panel on the lift.
"D-don't."
It hurt, at first. He let it lift for too long; Changmin rolled himself to his feet, standing wobbily and shaking his arms frantically to get loose. The lift was far taller than he, and Yoochun watched dispassionately as it lifted the tall man right off his feet. He let out a whimper of pain at the stab in his muscles; they hadn't been ready, hadn't been expecting that as his arms had been pulled over his head and his body forced to dangle from them. Bare feet kicked at the air, their efforts at finding something to stand on made in futility.
"I could just leave you like that," Yoochun murmured, stepping away from the panel, hand reaching for his vulnerable victim. He'd been hoisted only a few inches off the floor, but he'd also already been taller than the racer, who placed his hands on the hips to stop the flailing. He only had to lower his head a little, and Changmin felt his stomach clench as the man's tongue traced a line downward, over his abs and through his bellybutton. The racer paused at the waistband of the sweatpants, eyes flicking downward only for a moment before he turned a glare up at Changmin. "Your unwillingness is completely off-putting, I swear. Anyone else would be hard by now."
Fingertips danced across the front of his pants, across his crotch, and Changmin jerked, entire body swaying. The asshole grinned before reaching to let him down; just enough that his feet were barely on the ground. Just enough to relieve most the pressure that was making the muscles on his arms and back announce themselves. The mechanic tugged fruitlessly on the chains, and for the first time, Yoochun laughed.
"You realise you use those to lift engines out of cars, right? If they break or come loose, then your garage is a safety hazard."
"Fuck you."
His voice faltered as he spoke, and Yoochun wrapped his arms around his body, pressing hard kisses along his now less-accessible shoulders. A hand snaked up his back, twisting into his hair again and pulling his head back, forcing his chin up as he let out the softest of moans. The other moved down his back, slipping into his pants, grasping hard at his ass. He hated this man, this person touching him in places he was never meant to be allowed. But god... god. It was starting to feel good.
"I'd gladly let you, but somehow I don't think you're up to the task. It'll have to be the other way around."
While the young man was momentarily struck dumb, because somehow this had not been what he'd been expecting, Yoochun seized the waist of his sweatpants with both hands and pulled them down with one swift motion. Changmin's entire body immediately went hot, an angry blush rising to his face and ears as he tried to hide his now exposed member from sight by turning.
"You can't be serious," he managed, shaking as Yoochun's fingers scraped down his side and the man stepped into him again. A betraying heat followed the hand as it moved across his abdomen, tiptoeing downward almost playfully until it paused just above his half-hard cock. "Yoochun... Yoochun please don't."
The fingers dove, wrapping themselves around him in a solid grip, and Park Yoochun swallowed Changmin's loud gasp, tongue taking this chance to invade the mouth that had rejected it earlier. He stroked it, gently, as he pulled Changmin's face down to him again, biting his lovely, plump lips. The mechanic was visibly shaking, eyes squeezed closed, body tensed like a coil ready to be released. It wasn't hard to tell that, while his body had given in, he wasn't ready to just give himself to Yoochun.
But that was okay. Yoochun was going to take what he wanted, whether the man liked it or not.
"I told you I'd make you regret it," he breathed, tongue moving along the shell of his ear. The soft hiss was all that Changmin was able to let out, and then he was turning his face away as Yoochun's hand had left his head to explore the rest of his muscled body. It was exquisite, he decided immediately. The way his muscles stretched and showed, whether by his arms being secured over his head or because of Yoochun's roaming hands, he didn't know nor did he care. His touches left Changmin shivering; his mind kept demanding that he try to hide himself, try to break free and get away, but his body was acting entirely against his will. He thrust in Yoochun's hand, wishing that whatever he was going to do to him, he'd just do it. Yoochun let go, and stepped away, around him, and watched his face intently.
"Stop that. I'm going to fuck you, you know. You'd better not come just from my touching you, because honestly-" he undid his jacket, and tossed it away, "-that's no punishment at all. If you come, you'll regret it. Now open your eyes."
Changmin didn't comply, and Yoochun pouted, slipping his tee shirt over his head before reaching up and touching his cheek. It was gentle, but the man still flinched away from it, and Yoochun firmly took hold of his chin to turn his face back.
"Hey. Mechanic. It's bad enough I had to restrain you and I can't have you touching me, if you don't open your eyes I'm going to leave you hanging here for your workers to find in the morning."
The threat was enough to force his brown eyes open, and he stared at Yoochun through long eyelashes. A soft smile slipped across the racer's face, and he worked at the button of his jeans, leaning up to draw Changmin's lower lip into his mouth. Teeth pressed into it gently, and he rocked his hips against his prisoner, his jeans sliding dangerously low on them. His hand made its way around behind him again, and he traced his fingers along the crack of the man's ass. He could feel muscles tensing, working to keep him out, and watched with satisfaction as Changmin's eyes rolled back and forced themselves shut once more.
As his jeans fell down, he kicked them away and nudged a bare knee between Changmin's thighs. He fought him, chest heaving as Yoochun slid around him and worked his mouth across the back of his neck, down his spine. Hands stretched across him, leaving pale red scratchmarks as the racer pulled his nails across his skin.
His tongue flicked at the small of Changmin's back, and the mechanic jerked, letting out another soft moan.
"If you're gonna do it... just do it," he gasped, head leaned back as breaths came short. Yoochun was teasing him, and Changmin could feel the familiar pressure that came with the need to come. The tongue flicked at the top of his crack and he bit down on his lip.
And then he felt a finger pressing into him, and he couldn't stop the jumbled shout that burst from his lips. He could hear Yoochun behind him, practically chuckling to himself as he pressed harder, as he seemed to be testing just how much he could move the finger around. He moved it back and forth a few times, inquisitively gauging the reaction. Changmin's hands, though useless to him currently, had clenched into fists, and he felt the pressure on his arms increase as his knees wobbled.
"And that's just one," Yoochun murmured to himself, seemingly delighted. "Imagine what would happen if-"
Another finger. Changmin's entire body went tight and tense as Yoochun violated him, teeth pressing into his lip hard enough to draw blood. The fingers moved, in and out, back and forth, spreading and pushing where they weren't meant to be. It hurt. It hurt in a strangely exquisite way.
"Ffff-fuck you." The words were barely understandable. His skin was hot under Yoochun's cold lips, the man pressing soothing kisses and words against his shoulderblades even as he pushed hard enough to make Changmin's hips buck. A warm arm circled his waist, fingertips brushing delicately over his length as another finger was added.
His body boiled with his need.
"Yoo-" the fingers on both hands stalled, and the warmth of the body behind him disappeared. His head was spinning, eyesight immersed in clouds of white and grey, but he could still somehow see Yoochun snatching up his jeans and rummaging through them. There was a moment, where Changmin thought he was leaving - and he felt cold dread fill him at the idea - but then he was tossing the pants aside again, and his swollen lips were against the mechanic's once more.
"It's going to hurt you," he whispered, words getting caught in Changmin's mouth, the sweet taste of liquor still heavy on his breath. "I'm going to do it anyway."
"Not surprised, you dirty fucker," the mechanic breathed, and he found himself glad that the momentary separation and feeling of worry had doused his need to explode. How fucking sick, his mind reminded him. "Get it over with."
"Wouldn't be a punishment if it didn't hurt." The lips disappeared, though Yoochun never let go of Changmin's body fully as he moved around behind him again. The young man tensed automatically, and a spasm went through him when something cold and slick touched his lower back, running down the crack of his ass. "I don't want to kill you."
Yoochun coated himself with one hand, the other following lube down Changmin's ass. Changmin's long body kept up a constant shuddering, from his touch, from anticipation, and he felt his breath catch as the tip of the cock pressed against his entrance. A hand, slick and warm, wrapped around his chest and held him firm, and he felt lips press against the back of his shoulder once more as he pushed forward.
Nothing in the world could stop the scream that ripped up his throat as Yoochun drove inside him. There was a gasped exclamation behind him, something about the tightness, but Changmin couldn't comprehend. Fingers curled and uncurled, body jerked and writhed as much as it possibly could, and it was all Yoochun could do to keep him still. There was no wall close enough to fuck him up against. The racer had pushed past the ring of muscle, pausing to wrap his other arm around the shaking man and rocking his hips back and forth a bit, waiting for Changmin to draw another breath.
"How does it feel, mechanic?"
"Ffff. Fffffuck me or g-get out."
Heat raced under his skin, the urge once again rising in him. His own erection, unattended by either of them for lack of hands, dripped with the urge to explode right then and there. He hissed, and Yoochun must have felt his muscles all clench, because he muttered something obscene and with a painful thrust of his hips, buried himself fully in the tall man. His voice cracked with the sound that issued from him.
"Not yet, you little shit. I'm not done with you." He moved fluidly, back and forth, driving himself into the point that would, were he able to fall, put Changmin on the floor. The mechanic's eyes crossed, his body feeling like it was being tightened past the point of allowance. White spots popped in front of his eyes as he whimpered and moaned, Yoochun sliding around inside him with seemingly more ease now.
"I c-ca-can't... Yooch-chun, I-"
Teeth dug into his shoulder, and with one last, heavy thrust, Yoochun gasped out his permission. Not that Changmin could have held back any longer; his orgasm shook his body violently, his shout dying in his throat as breath stopped short and white splattered over the floor. His knees were gone completely, head slumped forward as he tried to draw air. Yoochun's own breaths were coming in short, choppy gasps behind him, and Changmin felt another strong, sharp thrust push into him.
"Hhnggyaah." He wasn't sure what it even meant, but that was what his tongue managed as he squeezed his eyes closed, body unwilling to tense up as Yoochun worked. It only took him another thrust before he too was finished, and he spent himself inside Changmin, slumping against the sweaty back and ignoring the whimper when the pressure on Changmin's arms increased too much.
To Changmin, it seemed like hours that they stood there; every part of him ached, his hands were going noticeably numb, and he was fairly sure his wrists were probably bleeding through the leather strap, if not from the chains. His knees ached, his back ached, his mouth was tender and he felt a sharp stab when he sucked on his own lip. And Park Yoochun was plastered against his back, a part of him still inside the taller man, his arms still tight around Changmin's waist. Touching him, holding him.
It was all too much, and he felt himself slipping into warm, easy darkness.
It was unexpected, that the mechanic would pass out. Yoochun felt the body give a bit more, legs not even trying to support him and muscles going limp, and he swallowed hard. Slowly, he eased himself out of the man, and stepped around him, to look at his face. He didn't need to; the lack of reaction when he'd slipped away was enough to confirm that he was unconscious. But still, he held Changmin's chin in his hand, raising the abused face toward his own.
Completely gone. The deep, even breaths were comforting, and Yoochun pressed his swollen lips against the mechanic's, smiling lightly before he went about letting him down and loosing his bruised arms. Quietly, he re-dressed himself, and even did Changmin the courtesy of pulling his pants back up around his waist before scribbling a note, dropping it on the man's back, and disappearing out the door.
Don't let anyone touch my car ever again.
... \o/?
Pairing: YooMin.
Rating: NC-17
Genre: ...smut? AU Smut.
Warnings: Dubcon/really it's mostly just rape. And language. But you're reading smut, are you really worried about swear words?
Notes: First smut fic. Just... take it.
Disclaimer: While I would like to cover them in grease and oil and many, many other fluids, I haven't, and probably won't.
Summary: Changmin runs the best garage in town, and it's a hot spot for racers who need to get their rides fixed up. Yoochun is a frequent customer who seems to want more than just his car to get Changmin's special treatment.
The racer's name was Park Yoochun. He was, to Changmin, just another one of his clients. It didn't matter how Yoochun leered. The strangely attractive smirk that washed over his face when Changmin caught him doing so meant nothing, either. He was a young, arrogant street racer who had blown up his ride several times, and that was all he would ever be. The first time he'd shown up with his burned out car, he'd signed his name on the paperwork, collected something shiny that had dangled from the rearview mirror, and, after running his eyes up and down Changmin's body in an obvious fashion, he'd climbed wordlessly into the passenger seat of JaeJoong's car. The pair had sped off.spitting up dust and leaving behind the smell of burning rubber and a very displeased young man.
Changmin had taken an immediate disliking to Yoochun. Several times over the last few months, the man had shown up at his garage, his car strapped into the bed of HyunJoong's tow truck; Changmin inwardly cursed himself every time for having hired HyunJoong on to work at his garage. Yoochun had no grasp on the concept of personal space, and Changmin did not enjoy having his personal bubble breached. This time, when HyunJoong pulled into the lot with the familiar white car in tow, Changmin immediately groaned and ducked back into the garage.
"He's back again?" Minho murmured, working a washcloth between his fingers in a vain attempt to remove the grease he'd managed to put his hands in. The youngest member of their team, he had only recently been hired on, but he'd still been around for every single one of Yoochun's visits. "I'm starting to wonder if he blows up his car just so he can come here and get you to fix it."
Changmin scowled and shoved the young man toward the door.
"You go. He's always a creepy dick whenever he comes in, I'm tired of dealing with him." Before Minho could protest, Changmin had ducked into the adjoining office and shut the door, leaving his dongsaeng to suffer through Yoochun's lusty stares and annoying attitude.
Their garage was a hot spot for street racers; when something went desperately wrong with a car, it was likely to be found in the lot of Changmin's garage, waiting for fixing. While most racers could work on their own cars in their own places and on their own time, it was a well-known fact that Shim Changmin was better at it than any of them could ever dream of being. Any car that his hands had touched was guaranteed to run better, accelerate faster. Business had increased exponentially after JaeJoong had started singing the praises of his workshop to all his friends.
It was great to be so busy, and the money was good. The only problem seemed to be Park Yoochun. Never before had Changmin had a client that he had disliked so strongly. If he actually owned the place, he'd waste no time in refusing Yoochun's car every time it came in, and in telling him that they didn't need his business. But Yoochun was friends with both HyunJoong and the man who rented the garage to the young mechanic; as much as Changmin owned the business, and could do whatever he pleased, he stood to have himself evicted from the premises if Yoochun went and called up Yunho and complained.
Rock and hard place, meet Changmin.
Even as he leaned his back against the office door, he heard the racer's voice, its loudness carrying into the garage easily, and he rolled his eyes. Minho was getting sworn at for existing; Changmin absently reached for the doorknob to lock himself in. He was just not going to deal with Yoochun today. Again. Ever.
Someone shoved against the door as he pressed the lock, turning the knob at the same time and effectively stopping him from pressing the lock in all the way. Safety, breached. The mechanic bit down on his lip and pushed back, trying to get the door closed again; a body slammed against the door again, and he stumbled away from it as it burst open.
Fucking Park Yoochun. Such an asshole. Changmin straightened up, face flushing and eyes full of defiance as his office was invaded. Yoochun stepped in and immediately slammed the door shut in Minho's face. Thoughtlessly, Changmin perched himself on the edge of the desk, long legs stretching out before him as his arms crossed over his chest. A deep frown etched itself into his forehead as Yoochun stepped forward, immediately invading Changmin's personal space. Not that he cared. He never seemed to.
"What the fuck is your problem?"
Oh lord, how Changmin wanted to answer that question. He bit on the inside of his cheek, considering his options. His automatic urge was to tell the truth; not only did he not like Yoochun at all, he was sure he downright hated the pretty race boy. He wanted to tell him that he could take his car and whatever was wrong with it and get the hell out of his garage, because damnit, he didn't like dealing with creepy idiots.
But he also wanted to not lose his garage. So the younger man merely shrugged before placing one hand against Yoochun's chest and pushing him, forcing him back a step or two. The man didn't allow himself to be moved very far, and a hand reached up to run through his long hair in exasperation. Changmin was, once again, struck with a terrifying, fascinating anticipation; Yoochun's entire stance, the way his other hand curled into a fist at his side... it made his stomach turn, though he tried not to show it. They both knew that Changmin was bigger, stronger - his exposed arms and obvious height showed that rather clearly. But they also both knew that, should Yoochun swing that fist, Changmin wouldn't retaliate.
Minho tapped lightly on the door, and they both ignored it.
"Who do you think you are, mechanic? I don't come here to have you send the fucking hired help out to me," Yoochun snapped finally, hand falling heavily from his hair as he once more stepped forward and invaded Changmin's personal space. The fingers fisted themselves into Changmin's sleeveless shirt, giving him a sharp jerk that made half his body bounce. Annoyed, he met the racer's angry eyes with his own, and stared him down. "I don't want them. I don't trust their hands on my car."
Changmin's frown creased his forehead violently. "I wouldn't have hired them if they weren't completely competent, sir." A hand wrapped around Yoochun's wrist, fingers pressing into his skin. "Do you really think my mechanics so unqualified, that you kicked my door in and..." He looked at the very small space between their two bodies, an air of distaste evident all around him, "...assaulted me?"
Yoochun's brown eyes widened slightly, and Changmin took advantage of his slight surprise to try and force him back again. The asshole, however, refused to be displaced so easily, and he leaned his face closer, breath hot on Changmin's face.
He smelled like Mexican food.
It was really, really unappealing.
"Just fix my car, you bitchy little fuck. Yourself. If I find out you let that little shithead-" The door opened quietly, the small snick of the lock barely registering to either of the obviously annoyed men, and said 'little shithead' poked his head into the room, "-touch my car..."
He jerked his arm again, but Changmin was tensed up and barely moved with the action, so Yoochun moved his mouth to the younger man's ear, voice dropping to a deadly whisper. It probably would have sent any other person into a panic attack, but Changmin merely bit the inside of his lip and tilted his head, stretching his neck to get the heat out of his ear.
"You will regret it."
Changmin already regretted having ever opened this garage in the first place. With a frustrated growl, he finally gave Yoochun a hard shove, but the man was already stepping back and away from him, fingers releasing their grip on his clothes. Rolling his eyes, he ignored the asshole racer's annoyed mutterings at Minho, didn't even comment about his dongsaeng getting shoved roughly against the doorframe as Yoochun left in a huff. He merely straightened up, took a deep breath, and moved around the desk to collapse into the chair.
Good god, he really hated that man. Everything about him. The overbearing attitude, the fact that he swore every other word. The way he dressed, like he was worth more than everyone else. The way his eyes had roamed over Changmin's long, lithe body one too many times. It made his stomach turn, every time he thought about it.
"He wants you, hyung." Minho rubbed his shoulder as he leaned against the doorframe. Changmin set a glare on him, one designed to shut him the hell up without question. Minho sucked his bottom lip into his mouth worriedly at that look.
"I'm aware. Go fix his fucking car."
He wasn't afraid of Park Yoochun.
Though the twisting in his stomach disagreed vehemently.
--
It was just Changmin's luck that Yoochun had damaged his car in such a way that he would have to be the one to fix it. He'd busied himself that day with going through receipts, balancing books, and then working over an engine in a car belonging to a far less vexing customer. He'd just replaced the spark plugs when the youngest worker approached him, his tentative touch on the head mechanic's shoulder not enough to surprise him. Changmin glanced at him, eyebrow raised questioningly as he swiped the back of a hand across his cheek. He ended up leaving more grime behind than he wiped away, but scarcely had the attention for it.
"I can't do it."
The tall man scowled as he straightened up, pulling himself out from under the hood of the car completely.
"What do you mean, you can't do it? I don't care if the fucking prick wants me to fix it, I'm telling you to do it." Minho's mouth opened and closed several times, no sound coming out despite the guppy-like action, and the scowl grew more pronounced as it finally dawned on Changmin. "He did something ridiculously stupid, didn't he."
As Minho led him to where the car sat, silent and bothersome on their floor, Changmin pondered over the many things Yoochun had previously done to it. He had an alarming knack for blowing things up, and then coming back and complaining as if Changmin's work had been at fault. Each time, Changmin had fervently pointed out that nothing he'd worked on was anywhere near the part in question. Once, he'd suggested that Yoochun work on becoming a better driver.
He'd gotten hit for that. A finger traced along his jawline in memory; even with that, the asshole had too much sway over the young man's business. How cruel was the world, to allow such things? His teeth found the corner of his lip, and he chewed absently as Minho tugged him in front of the thing and pointed.
"He blew the fucking engine up. Like completely. I can't fix that. I don't even know if you can fix that, hyung."
The entire engine, and the cavity that it inhabited, was black. Changmin narrowed his eyes at it, fingers moving quickly and quietly over parts, before he finally realised what had happened. Yoochun had thrown a rod, and the engine had lit itself on fire. The idiot had apparently let it burn or something, because there were parts that now needed replacing that wouldn't have, had the fire been put out quick enough.
"Goddamnit. Go finish the one I was working on, I know you can do that much."
He resigned himself to tearing apart the engine, and in the back of his head, he could hear the paranoid little voice saying that this entire thing was intentional. But Park Yoochun was nothing without his car, so of course it couldn't have been done on purpose. Right? Not even he would be that stupid.
About halfway through the night, he became vaguely aware of the feeling that he was being watched. Body covered in black streaks, he peered around the car, and caught HyunJoong, standing just outside the office door and watching him intently. Changmin frowned, but went back to his work, ignoring the little smile on his tow truck driver's face.
Though he swore he could see a hint of guilt in it. And it made him even more paranoid. Even as he closed the garage doors, and said goodnight to Minho and HyunJoong, he felt like somebody was staring at him. Like something bad was going to happen. He climbed the stairs to the apartment he'd converted on the second floor, and slipped inside.
Unable to shake the foreboding feeling, Changmin nonetheless went about his nightly routine. His shower was longer than normal; the water ran down his legs, black rivulets that gave way to a washy grey, finally going completely clear after the third time he scrubbed himself down. The grease and soot from tearing apart Yoochun's engine was insistently ground into his skin and short hair, clinging in pores and holding stubbornly even under the scalding hot water. He gave up working at the stains on his hands; every night, he made a futile effort to dislodge the black spots from his skin, and every night, they proved to be far too deeply engrained. Hair dripping in his eyes, he stepped out into the steam-filled bathroom and dried himself off, half-distracted by his attempts to remember what was on tv that night. He ignored the idea of boxers and instead slipped on only his sweatpants before taking a beer from the fridge and flopping sideways onto his mattress, idly flicking through channels as he downed the drink.
He was halfway into his fourth bottle, and well on his way to blocking out the strange nervousness that churned up his stomach, when someone knocked on the door.
More like slammed into it. He hadn't heard the footsteps approaching up the stairwell, nor had he heard any knocks previous to what sounded like a fist punching his door. Startled, he almost dropped his beer, and he simply stared across the room in surprise. The silence following the thud almost made him wonder if he'd imagined it, and he was about to go back to his drinking and some variety show he rarely had time to watch when it happened again.
THUD.
"...the hell," he murmured, frowning as he set the bottle down on the table and stepped closer to the door.
The third hit knocked it open as he reached for the knob, and a hand shot out of the darkness just outside and grabbed his extended arm. Changmin bit back a surprised yelp, and as the figure stepped into the dim light of his apartment, he let loose a string of curses that would put a sailor to shame.
Fucking. Park. Yoochun.
"Get the fuck out of here before I call the police," Changmin snapped, attempting to dislodge himself from Yoochun's grip. The fingers tightened, pressing into his flesh painfully, and he fought to keep his face from showing the wince. "What are you even doing here, the garage is closed-"
Yoochun's other hand shot out and pressed hard over the tall young man's mouth. Changmin jerked backward, away, but the asshole followed, ignoring as fingers dug into his skin in another attempt to get him off. He gave a shove, sending Changmin's head jerking back against the wall as they reached it. Bright spots popped before his eyes, and a cold panic rushed his chest. What the fuck was going on here?! His mouth worked beneath Yoochun's palm, determined to bite him and force him away, but it was pointless.
The racer slammed the mechanic's captive arm against the wall and pressed his body close. Changmin could practically taste the aura of drunkenness that surrounded him, could smell the alcohol on his ragged breath. His intoxication was fueling Changmin's own buzz, combining with the overall panic and anxiety that was filling him up and making him feel heavy and unable to move, to fight back. His free hand tugged fruitlessly at Yoochun's arm, and he gave his body an uncoordinated jerk in effort to get out from between the wall and the asshole. Yoochun's hand only pressed harder over his lips, bringing up the vaguest ache as they pressed too hard against his teeth.
"Mmmbofm," the mechanic demanded, body jerking again. It seemed little more than a spasm, however, as Yoochun pushed himself closer; Changmin's breath caught for a moment before coming heavier and faster through his nose. While the twenty-two year old was tall, and strong, everyone knew. Everyone knew that he hated being touched, that extreme proximity to anyone made him begin the rapid descent into incoherent anxiety. It was why he hated Park Yoochun so much; he was forever in Changmin's bubble, standing too close to allow comfort, and letting his eyes linger where they shouldn't have lingered.
"You let that little fuck touch my car," the racer whispered, turning the mechanic's head to the side and licking the skin just beneath his ear. Changmin shuddered and mumbled something indecipherable. "I don't like people touching my things. Apparently, neither do you."
For the first time in his life, Changmin felt that it was unfortunate that he lived alone. The hand finally left his mouth, and dug into Yoochun's pocket, but Changmin's throat was far too constricted with disbelieving horror at that moment to even consider screaming loud enough for the neighbours to hear. Not that they even would; it was late, and these walls were thick, and he was completely distracted from thinking about it by the feel of Yoochun's teeth.
Terror bloomed like a flower in his stomach. Eyes widening, he tried to become smaller against the wall, to get away from the mouth leaving red marks down the side of his neck. It didn't hurt, really; he was far too used to getting caught on an engine, cutting himself in the shop, to let some little pinpricks qualify themselves as pain. But it brought on the sudden realisation of just what Yoochun seemed to be doing. He was working with purpose. As he reached the exposed collarbone, he wrapped his mouth around it, sucking on the skin before digging his teeth into its edge. Changmin gasped, hand knotting itself into Yoochun's jacket in a renewed attempt to push him off.
Something wrapped around his wrist, and he could feel Yoochun grinning against his skin.
"You're not going to just let me punish you, are you," he asked flatly, pulling the leather strap tight against Changmin's arm. Spastic breaths wracked the taller man's body as he stared at it, as Yoochun allowed his mouth to stop its assault so he could look around the small room. The smile turned into a frown when he realised that there was nothing particularly useful here; Changmin's bed was merely a mattress on the floor, no headboard or anything, and there was a minimal amount of furniture. None of it was sturdy enough to suit his needs. Changmin almost felt the slightest relief, the idiotic thought that maybe he'd just leave if it was unsatisfactory crossing his mind.
But the grin returned as Yoochun took a half a step back. With sudden force, he pulled Changmin from the wall and flipped him around. The mechanic's shoulder caught painfully as his arm was twisted behind him, the leather strap unforgiving of his human limitations and Yoochun unwilling to let it go. His other arm ended up pressed between his chest and the wall; Yoochun stepped in again, the heat of his body uncomfortably obvious.
"Come with me." He made it obvious that, should Changmin struggle, he'd make it very painful for him. The leather was flush with his skin, unyielding as the mechanic was separated from the wall and marched from his room.
Out the door, down the stairs, past the office door, and straight into the garage. Yoochun walked him past two of the three cars, stopping at one that belonged to an elderly customer who had been in a minor accident. Changmin's stilted breathing and their footsteps had echoed through the large garage, eerie in a place that was normally so loud.
"You're doing this... over a fucking car," the man finally spat, words hitching as the racer twisted his arm a bit more. "You've had your fun, now let g-aaah."
Yoochun turned him again, letting the pressure off his arm and seizing his other wrist once more. He pushed the mechanic against the old man's car with his body, hips bumping against his captive's; Changmin felt the bumper press into his calves and he flopped backwards onto the hood to escaped the closeness. Half-naked body squirmed, arms suddenly fighting as Yoochun forced his wrists together and wrapped the rest of the length around them. As strong as his muscles were, once the leather was secured, there was no escaping it. It was far too thick and sturdy to rip by force alone, and Changmin used his bare feet to push himself further up on the car's hood.
The racer didn't like his trying to escape the well-earned punishment, it seemed. Fingers knitted into Changmin's hair, pulling his head and shoulders forward, and Yoochun's mouth smashed against his own. Yoochun's lips were open, working for a kiss that Changmin neither wanted nor returned; the mechanic's entire body went stiff, jaw setting as his lips remained unyieldingly shut. Eyelids pressed down, the only effort his body made to block out what was happening, and a low whimper pooled in his mouth.
"This is going to happen either way," Yoochun whispered against his lips, tugging achingly at his hair. "You really should just play along."
The younger man pressed his bound wrists against Yoochun, separating their bodies as much as he could; the racer sighed in disgust. He'd been expecting a fight; he knew how Changmin got whenever he stood too close, whenever he laid a hand on him. He was well aware of the fact that the man wasn't attracted to him, wasn't attracted to anyone, it seemed. It drove him mad. His obsession with Changmin had grown exponentially since they'd first met, and tonight... tonight, he was either going to make or break this fucking mechanic.
"Up," he demanded, shifting his grip on Changmin's hair and dragging him to his feet. A hiss escaped the man at the abuse and he followed along rather than letting it continue. He didn't stop until they'd reached a piece of equipment, and the mechanic's face visibly paled. It was the machine they used to lift engines out of cars; merely a small hydraulic crane-type thing, with long chains that hung silently, waiting for the next time they'd need to be used. Yoochun considered it, his eyes thoughtful behind the light glaze of alcohol, and then gave another tug on his prisoner.
Changmin resisted.
"I swear I'll rip your head right off your shoulders if you don't move." The threat was sharp, accompanied by another angry yank that brought hot tears to the back of Changmin's eyes. His stomach gave a strange turn, an unfamiliar feeling churning in there, and Changmin stepped forward. "Arms up. Over your head."
In the end, he had to knock the mechanic to the floor to do what he wanted. Changmin was not willing to allow himself to be tied to the damn lift, no matter how hard Yoochun pulled at his hair or how many times the man threatened him with bodily harm. A swift kick to the back of his knees put him on them, eyes swimming from the pain at the back of his head, and the racer busied himself with wrapping the chains all the way down both of Changmin's arms. When he fought back, his movements were paused by a violent bite on the soft spot between his neck and shoulder, teeth digging in deep enough to leave a mark that would probably still show come the end of the week.
The mechanic first winced at the feel of cold metal and warm fingers on his arms. Yoochun seemed to be having quite a good time, fingertips tracing along Changmin's skin in a way that conflicted with his overall attitude since he'd appeared. The touches were light, tantalising. They drew a shiver up his spine, set his breathing uneven again. Warmth pooled in his abdomen, and to his horror, he found that the man's hands were making him want their touches. And the racer seemed to realise it. When he'd finished securing the man's arms, he pulled away with a smirk and moved to the control panel on the lift.
"D-don't."
It hurt, at first. He let it lift for too long; Changmin rolled himself to his feet, standing wobbily and shaking his arms frantically to get loose. The lift was far taller than he, and Yoochun watched dispassionately as it lifted the tall man right off his feet. He let out a whimper of pain at the stab in his muscles; they hadn't been ready, hadn't been expecting that as his arms had been pulled over his head and his body forced to dangle from them. Bare feet kicked at the air, their efforts at finding something to stand on made in futility.
"I could just leave you like that," Yoochun murmured, stepping away from the panel, hand reaching for his vulnerable victim. He'd been hoisted only a few inches off the floor, but he'd also already been taller than the racer, who placed his hands on the hips to stop the flailing. He only had to lower his head a little, and Changmin felt his stomach clench as the man's tongue traced a line downward, over his abs and through his bellybutton. The racer paused at the waistband of the sweatpants, eyes flicking downward only for a moment before he turned a glare up at Changmin. "Your unwillingness is completely off-putting, I swear. Anyone else would be hard by now."
Fingertips danced across the front of his pants, across his crotch, and Changmin jerked, entire body swaying. The asshole grinned before reaching to let him down; just enough that his feet were barely on the ground. Just enough to relieve most the pressure that was making the muscles on his arms and back announce themselves. The mechanic tugged fruitlessly on the chains, and for the first time, Yoochun laughed.
"You realise you use those to lift engines out of cars, right? If they break or come loose, then your garage is a safety hazard."
"Fuck you."
His voice faltered as he spoke, and Yoochun wrapped his arms around his body, pressing hard kisses along his now less-accessible shoulders. A hand snaked up his back, twisting into his hair again and pulling his head back, forcing his chin up as he let out the softest of moans. The other moved down his back, slipping into his pants, grasping hard at his ass. He hated this man, this person touching him in places he was never meant to be allowed. But god... god. It was starting to feel good.
"I'd gladly let you, but somehow I don't think you're up to the task. It'll have to be the other way around."
While the young man was momentarily struck dumb, because somehow this had not been what he'd been expecting, Yoochun seized the waist of his sweatpants with both hands and pulled them down with one swift motion. Changmin's entire body immediately went hot, an angry blush rising to his face and ears as he tried to hide his now exposed member from sight by turning.
"You can't be serious," he managed, shaking as Yoochun's fingers scraped down his side and the man stepped into him again. A betraying heat followed the hand as it moved across his abdomen, tiptoeing downward almost playfully until it paused just above his half-hard cock. "Yoochun... Yoochun please don't."
The fingers dove, wrapping themselves around him in a solid grip, and Park Yoochun swallowed Changmin's loud gasp, tongue taking this chance to invade the mouth that had rejected it earlier. He stroked it, gently, as he pulled Changmin's face down to him again, biting his lovely, plump lips. The mechanic was visibly shaking, eyes squeezed closed, body tensed like a coil ready to be released. It wasn't hard to tell that, while his body had given in, he wasn't ready to just give himself to Yoochun.
But that was okay. Yoochun was going to take what he wanted, whether the man liked it or not.
"I told you I'd make you regret it," he breathed, tongue moving along the shell of his ear. The soft hiss was all that Changmin was able to let out, and then he was turning his face away as Yoochun's hand had left his head to explore the rest of his muscled body. It was exquisite, he decided immediately. The way his muscles stretched and showed, whether by his arms being secured over his head or because of Yoochun's roaming hands, he didn't know nor did he care. His touches left Changmin shivering; his mind kept demanding that he try to hide himself, try to break free and get away, but his body was acting entirely against his will. He thrust in Yoochun's hand, wishing that whatever he was going to do to him, he'd just do it. Yoochun let go, and stepped away, around him, and watched his face intently.
"Stop that. I'm going to fuck you, you know. You'd better not come just from my touching you, because honestly-" he undid his jacket, and tossed it away, "-that's no punishment at all. If you come, you'll regret it. Now open your eyes."
Changmin didn't comply, and Yoochun pouted, slipping his tee shirt over his head before reaching up and touching his cheek. It was gentle, but the man still flinched away from it, and Yoochun firmly took hold of his chin to turn his face back.
"Hey. Mechanic. It's bad enough I had to restrain you and I can't have you touching me, if you don't open your eyes I'm going to leave you hanging here for your workers to find in the morning."
The threat was enough to force his brown eyes open, and he stared at Yoochun through long eyelashes. A soft smile slipped across the racer's face, and he worked at the button of his jeans, leaning up to draw Changmin's lower lip into his mouth. Teeth pressed into it gently, and he rocked his hips against his prisoner, his jeans sliding dangerously low on them. His hand made its way around behind him again, and he traced his fingers along the crack of the man's ass. He could feel muscles tensing, working to keep him out, and watched with satisfaction as Changmin's eyes rolled back and forced themselves shut once more.
As his jeans fell down, he kicked them away and nudged a bare knee between Changmin's thighs. He fought him, chest heaving as Yoochun slid around him and worked his mouth across the back of his neck, down his spine. Hands stretched across him, leaving pale red scratchmarks as the racer pulled his nails across his skin.
His tongue flicked at the small of Changmin's back, and the mechanic jerked, letting out another soft moan.
"If you're gonna do it... just do it," he gasped, head leaned back as breaths came short. Yoochun was teasing him, and Changmin could feel the familiar pressure that came with the need to come. The tongue flicked at the top of his crack and he bit down on his lip.
And then he felt a finger pressing into him, and he couldn't stop the jumbled shout that burst from his lips. He could hear Yoochun behind him, practically chuckling to himself as he pressed harder, as he seemed to be testing just how much he could move the finger around. He moved it back and forth a few times, inquisitively gauging the reaction. Changmin's hands, though useless to him currently, had clenched into fists, and he felt the pressure on his arms increase as his knees wobbled.
"And that's just one," Yoochun murmured to himself, seemingly delighted. "Imagine what would happen if-"
Another finger. Changmin's entire body went tight and tense as Yoochun violated him, teeth pressing into his lip hard enough to draw blood. The fingers moved, in and out, back and forth, spreading and pushing where they weren't meant to be. It hurt. It hurt in a strangely exquisite way.
"Ffff-fuck you." The words were barely understandable. His skin was hot under Yoochun's cold lips, the man pressing soothing kisses and words against his shoulderblades even as he pushed hard enough to make Changmin's hips buck. A warm arm circled his waist, fingertips brushing delicately over his length as another finger was added.
His body boiled with his need.
"Yoo-" the fingers on both hands stalled, and the warmth of the body behind him disappeared. His head was spinning, eyesight immersed in clouds of white and grey, but he could still somehow see Yoochun snatching up his jeans and rummaging through them. There was a moment, where Changmin thought he was leaving - and he felt cold dread fill him at the idea - but then he was tossing the pants aside again, and his swollen lips were against the mechanic's once more.
"It's going to hurt you," he whispered, words getting caught in Changmin's mouth, the sweet taste of liquor still heavy on his breath. "I'm going to do it anyway."
"Not surprised, you dirty fucker," the mechanic breathed, and he found himself glad that the momentary separation and feeling of worry had doused his need to explode. How fucking sick, his mind reminded him. "Get it over with."
"Wouldn't be a punishment if it didn't hurt." The lips disappeared, though Yoochun never let go of Changmin's body fully as he moved around behind him again. The young man tensed automatically, and a spasm went through him when something cold and slick touched his lower back, running down the crack of his ass. "I don't want to kill you."
Yoochun coated himself with one hand, the other following lube down Changmin's ass. Changmin's long body kept up a constant shuddering, from his touch, from anticipation, and he felt his breath catch as the tip of the cock pressed against his entrance. A hand, slick and warm, wrapped around his chest and held him firm, and he felt lips press against the back of his shoulder once more as he pushed forward.
Nothing in the world could stop the scream that ripped up his throat as Yoochun drove inside him. There was a gasped exclamation behind him, something about the tightness, but Changmin couldn't comprehend. Fingers curled and uncurled, body jerked and writhed as much as it possibly could, and it was all Yoochun could do to keep him still. There was no wall close enough to fuck him up against. The racer had pushed past the ring of muscle, pausing to wrap his other arm around the shaking man and rocking his hips back and forth a bit, waiting for Changmin to draw another breath.
"How does it feel, mechanic?"
"Ffff. Fffffuck me or g-get out."
Heat raced under his skin, the urge once again rising in him. His own erection, unattended by either of them for lack of hands, dripped with the urge to explode right then and there. He hissed, and Yoochun must have felt his muscles all clench, because he muttered something obscene and with a painful thrust of his hips, buried himself fully in the tall man. His voice cracked with the sound that issued from him.
"Not yet, you little shit. I'm not done with you." He moved fluidly, back and forth, driving himself into the point that would, were he able to fall, put Changmin on the floor. The mechanic's eyes crossed, his body feeling like it was being tightened past the point of allowance. White spots popped in front of his eyes as he whimpered and moaned, Yoochun sliding around inside him with seemingly more ease now.
"I c-ca-can't... Yooch-chun, I-"
Teeth dug into his shoulder, and with one last, heavy thrust, Yoochun gasped out his permission. Not that Changmin could have held back any longer; his orgasm shook his body violently, his shout dying in his throat as breath stopped short and white splattered over the floor. His knees were gone completely, head slumped forward as he tried to draw air. Yoochun's own breaths were coming in short, choppy gasps behind him, and Changmin felt another strong, sharp thrust push into him.
"Hhnggyaah." He wasn't sure what it even meant, but that was what his tongue managed as he squeezed his eyes closed, body unwilling to tense up as Yoochun worked. It only took him another thrust before he too was finished, and he spent himself inside Changmin, slumping against the sweaty back and ignoring the whimper when the pressure on Changmin's arms increased too much.
To Changmin, it seemed like hours that they stood there; every part of him ached, his hands were going noticeably numb, and he was fairly sure his wrists were probably bleeding through the leather strap, if not from the chains. His knees ached, his back ached, his mouth was tender and he felt a sharp stab when he sucked on his own lip. And Park Yoochun was plastered against his back, a part of him still inside the taller man, his arms still tight around Changmin's waist. Touching him, holding him.
It was all too much, and he felt himself slipping into warm, easy darkness.
It was unexpected, that the mechanic would pass out. Yoochun felt the body give a bit more, legs not even trying to support him and muscles going limp, and he swallowed hard. Slowly, he eased himself out of the man, and stepped around him, to look at his face. He didn't need to; the lack of reaction when he'd slipped away was enough to confirm that he was unconscious. But still, he held Changmin's chin in his hand, raising the abused face toward his own.
Completely gone. The deep, even breaths were comforting, and Yoochun pressed his swollen lips against the mechanic's, smiling lightly before he went about letting him down and loosing his bruised arms. Quietly, he re-dressed himself, and even did Changmin the courtesy of pulling his pants back up around his waist before scribbling a note, dropping it on the man's back, and disappearing out the door.
Don't let anyone touch my car ever again.
... \o/?