The day I tried writing something besides crack part three

[deemonic]

Jongdae is wondering whether he’s already used up his daily amount of tears, since no matter how hard he feels like bawling, they would no longer come out of his red, swollen eyes. He’s lying flat on his back, legs hanging off the car on either side of a still fully-clothed save for an unzipped fly Kris, who seems to have made it his goal in life to humiliate him even further. This time by having him climax at the end of this prick’s dick.

He’d always known that, in addition to ropes and other things - many of which are better left unstated - Kris is good with human anatomy. Thus it’s hardly a surprise to Jongdae, how a certain bundle of nerves inside his anus is taking a serious beating with each painful thrust of the blonde’s hips.

And yes, Kris is presently blond, not that it makes him any less of a dark figure in Jongdae’s life. How could it be that, following more than a year’s separation, Kris still holds so much control over his entire being? That he’s able to, in a matter of seconds, have him forgetting the person he loves and was going to marry? Is going to marry, providing Minseok takes him back, of which he is no longer certain. All he knows is that, Minseok can never find out the reason he’d missed their wedding had been Kris Wu, or he might walk out on him forever.

As ironic as it may sound, there’d actually been a single, unfortunate occasion on which he did scream Kris’ name during intercourse with Minseok, though it was definitely out of fright, rather than pleasure. Long story short, one bright day Minseok had come up with the idea to blindfold a sleeping Jongdae, then wake him up with kisses, which would hopefully result in some extremely passionate love-making.

The kisses had been fine, so were the foreplay and the thorough preparation, but when they’d gotten to the actual love-making, the memories it triggered had been too much for Jongdae’s brain to handle, and he’d spent nearly an hour explaining to an angry, sexually frustrated Minseok who Kris had been.

Although that day had ended up with Jongdae cuddled and comforted by his guilt-ridden boyfriend-turned-fiance, he’s still not entirely sure Minseok isn’t secretly holding a grudge. And what if his fiance thinks the tragic saga of his abusive ex is really just an awesome cover-up for the depressing reality, in which he’s still not over Kris? And most importantly, how come Kris, however indirectly, has him questioning Minseok’s sincerity?

After all, it’s not as if it’s Minseok’s fault that Kris has rendered him emotionally unstable, has stripped him of any self-worth he may have possessed at some stage in his life. To the point it’s hard for Jongdae to believe even someone as kind and selfless as Kim Minseok would love and want to marry damaged goods like him unconditionally, never mind how often his fiance claims so.

And right now Kris is most likely set on having him orgasm, though Jongdae is determined to deprive him of the pleasure. Although he’s beginning to doubt it, supposedly Kris is only human… right? Sooner or later, the fake blonde would have to come himself; he can’t keep fucking him forever. Now if only Jongdae could hold out a little longer…

Jongdae feels Kris’ huge hands lifting one of his legs up, then the other, drawing them to his chest for a better, deeper angle, and he has to bite back an especially loud groan, as the tip of Kris’ cock stamps an imaginary dent square on his sweet spot, on its way to sinking in balls deep. He distracts himself by imagining how sore his back, his thighs, just make it his entire body will be once they’re finished, because he’d never been particularly flexible, and yet his ex insists on bending him into unnatural positions.

“Are you just gonna lay there like a blow-up doll? Cause I have all night, you’re pretty much wasting your own time.” Kris’ tone is perfectly steady, despite the sweat already breaking on his brow. “Looks like you’d rather stay here with me than be safely shipped-off to Minseokie.”

On some level, Jongdae knows Kris holds a valid argument, but on the other hand, he’s anxious. What will be his excuse to Minseok? Because good old ‘I tripped and fell into a short-term coma’ only works on people you don’t have to share a bed with.  Oh god… there must be bite marks on his neck. And fingerprints all over his thighs. And-

“Well, you always did find beaches romantic, so I picked this one out just for you; now tell me I’m not a considerate lover. No wonder you wanna stay here a bit longer.”

“No! I mea-n…” Jongdae squeaks. It’s hard to express oneself properly when everything threatens to transform into a moan of pure bliss.

“Take your time.”

A perfectly aimed thrust sends Jongdae’s head knocking into solid glass and metal, eyes rolling back as even more pain gets mistaken for raw pleasure. He feels his balls tightening up, the familiar heat pooling in his groin, and he knows resistance is futile - he might as well surrender now and hate himself for it much later. Isn’t it what he always does? “Uh yes. Yes. I wanna come.”

Kris tilts his head and spares the self-conflicted, bent in half Korean a do-I-look-like-I-care face, as though perhaps Jongdae had once again read him all wrong and making him climax was not on the menu. He lets go of Jongdae’s legs and leaves them hanging in the air, then slips both hands beneath his ass and lifts it up, successfully impaling him on his pulsating shaft.

“You know what I want?” Kris inquires, rotating his hips in time with the shameful soclosepleasedon’tstop mantra in Jongdae’s head, “I wanna feel your slutty hole working my dick like you mean it. Gonna pound it so good it won’t close anymore. Think you can handle it, baby?”

There must be something positively wrong with Kim Jongdae’s mentality, because this load of cheap talk, combined with a surprise endearment is what makes him lose it.

The orgasm is ripped out of him with a sledgehammer. Like soaring in the heavens for a stolen second,  then slamming right back down into a sea of guilt. Or even more like Jongdae wishing Kris would put a hammer to his heart, and then dispose of his dead corpse by dropping it into the nearby sea, but wishing is one thing and apparently reality is something else entirely.

In reality, Jongdae is overwhelmed by an awfully short-lived freedom of release. His inner walls contract involuntarily, clenching and unclenching around the throbbing flesh that’s buried deep within their breached confines. Contrary to earlier statements, he doesn’t come screaming Kris’ name, or anyone’s name for the matter, but lets out a string of primal yet extremely melodic noises.  However, he’s brought promptly back to earth when Kris backhands him across the face.

“-guy I rented it off ‘s gonna flip. What, I bet you thought I now drive people around for a living?” Jongdae doesn’t quite catch half of Kris’ first sentence, but one look at the rapidly spreading damp stain on the Chinese’s work shirt explains why there’s so little semen on Jongdae’s body.

Though Jongdae is sure it’s a bad thing, Kris’ pelvis isn’t moving anymore. Kris stabs a finger that feels more like a dagger into a sharp hipbone, collecting whatever meager amount of creamy liquid had ended up there, then brings said finger to Jongdae’s mouth, expectant.

Unwillingly, Jongdae parts his lips and lets the trespassing digit in, savoring the bitter evidence of being a filthy cheater.

“Came without me even trying, and he claims he’s not a slut. That’s right, eat it.” Kris says, all the while rubbing his finger on Jongdae’s tongue, as if he’s trying to wipe the dirt off.

Save for possible explanations for his fiance, Jongdae’s mind is a pristine blank, that’s why he doesn’t give a thought as to whether Kris, whom he does remember being ridiculously rich, is working as a cab driver, and continues suckling on his makeshift pacifier.

So far, the best excuse he’s managed to come up with is ‘been mugged by a total stranger in a dark alley’, so that if Minseok questions the strategically placed bruises on his thighs, he could always try acting dumb, like maybe he’d been out of it and had been unaware of getting raped. Because it’s really easy to miss the sting that shoots throughout your lower body with each step you take. Yeah, that would work.

“Are you even fuckin’ listening?” Kris is beginning to wonder whether slapping Jongdae every two seconds is the only way to get the boy’s attention. He can’t continue fucking him if his consciousness is way off in Lala-land, now where’s the fun in that?

“Hmmm… so you aren’t even a bit curious as to why your phone’s been on flight mode even before you came into the cab? Or how the hell you got me as your driver when supposedly you ordered off a trustworthy company? How about who pumped you so full of sedatives you nodded off twenty minutes into the ride? Not that either? Okay then…”

Painfully slowly, Kris drags his cock nearly all the way out of Jongdae’s hole, making sure the Korean feels every burning centimeter in the worst possible way, until only the head of it remains enclosed, visibly tugging at the tender rim from the inside.

It’s highly amusing, watching the blankness on Jongdae’s face transforming into realization.  “Wait, so you did have an accomp-ngh.” Kris doesn’t give him the chance to finish voicing his conclusion, what’s with his hips snapping forward so fiercely Jongdae drops his train of thoughts down a volcano.

“That’s right; I had a… partner… in crime. Wanna know… who it is?” The pace Kris sets is so intense Jongdae’s oversensitive insides can’t help fluttering around his length, soft cock giving half-interested jolts against his thigh. At least Kris’ voice sounds strained, like maybe Jongdae’s hell won’t last for that much longer.

Does Jongdae want to know who’s set him up and why? Of course he does, except he’d watched too many comic-book based movies in his life to know that only careless evil villains would spill their beans. Kris isn’t careless, not at all, and so he’d probably just tease him had he answered positively.

“What, you don’t wanna take a… wild… guess? You’ve always loved these… little games we play. Come on Chenchen, who’d want your Minseok sexy, free and single? Though I’m not sure he pulls off sexy very well.”

Does Kris ever shut up?

Jongdae had promised himself he wouldn’t cooperate, wouldn’t ask, but he just needs to check one possibility. “It’s Minseok’s mom, right?”

“No Chen, that’s just gross. Though I’d steer clear from some of your ‘best friends’, one of them is quite the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Said he wants to eat your beloved for breakfast, lunch and dinner, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a cannibal, it’s always the innocent looking ones. Except for you though, you’re just as naive as you look.”

Wasn’t Kris supposed to be fucking him?

Jongdae retaliates by pushing back against Kris’ thrusts, pressing closer, squeezing and massaging his sadistic ex’s cock to the best of his abilities, until the friction in between their joined bodies grows unbearable.  He can’t quite make a connection, not yet anyhow, and it’s not like Kris is ever going to reveal his little helper’s name. Jongdae, realizing prevention is way better than cure, decides to never again let any of his friends near Minseok, even the allegedly straight and married ones. How is he going to achieve this? He’ll figure something out, as soon as he deals with the problem still at hand.

“Admit it though, I’ve the best ways of bringing out the slut in you.” is the last thing Kris says before he catches both of Jongdae’s wrists in one hand, feeding off the terror that instantly lights up in the smaller male’s eyes, and with one last, rapid shove, empties himself inside his quivering partner.

Jongdae writhes in Kris’ grasp, a desperate attempt to free his hands from their binds, their one bind, and so he misses the exact moment his inner walls receive a thorough paint-job. He vaguely feels warmer, though his ass has been on fire for a long time now, and so the only thing he registers successfully is the need to fight off an impending panic attack.

“Fan... please let go. Please.  I’ve done what you wanted. You’ve promised.”

Kris’ orgasm is being considerably intensified by Jongdae’s amateur struggling; he decides to wait some more before releasing him. “I’ve promised to drive you back, and I’ll keep my promise. Who says I can’t do it while you’re handcuffed in the trunk?”

Jongdae figures his eyes are always able to produce new tears when he’s around Kris.

...

The drive back home is even longer than the one to Random-Beach in God-Knows-Where, for Jongdae stays awake throughout its full duration. His hands are thankfully unbound, although the skin of his wrists feels way too tight, he can’t help scratching around phantom handcuffs every so often.

The wedding suit he’s wearing is full of dirt and stray grains of sand, completely ruined - which might as well apply to his entire state in general, body and mind alike. As predicted, his muscles are so sore and stiff he’d made it back into the cab with an obvious waddle.

He’s fidgeting in his seat, painfully aware of the boxers that keep clinging to his asshole. Kris had expressed the urge to have him sit on a wet spot and think about his bad behavior, and so his jerk of an ex hadn’t allowed him to push any of the sperm out before his clothes were back on.

For some reason, Jongdae is filled with dead certainty that, if he were to encounter any of his neighbors at such an ungodly hour, they would immediately pull a Sherlock Holmes at him; would figure what he’d done, where and, most importantly, with whom.

They would judge him, call him a disgrace and point accusing fingers, maybe even spit his way, depends. He sees it clearly in his head now - worse than a witch hunt, all for the purpose of extinguishing the cheating scum of their otherwise picture-perfect neighborhood. And worse still, what if Minseok were to raise a hand at him for the very first time?

So yes, his fiance had never actually used his hands for anything other than loving caresses for him to melt into, but every person has their limits.  Though he’d never experienced it on himself, Jongdae’s still got a pretty decent clue as to what a martial arts instructor is capable of.

And this is why, although some of the come had obviously dribbled out to soil the back of his pants, most of it still remains inside his rectum - a cold, nasty reminder of the unasked for quality time with his ex. Jongdae wants nothing more than to lock himself inside a shower for a good three hours, scrubbing away until no trace of Kris’ DNA is left upon his skin. Never mind he somehow knows a thousand showers wouldn’t be enough to wash away the mental scars Kris’ touch has carved into his very being.

Speaking of the devil, apparently Kris only needs one hand to drive. His right palm is on Jongdae’s knee, resting there not unlike an anvil, yet Jongdae wouldn’t dare do anything about it in fear Kris suddenly decides to steer off the road and crash into a lamppost.

To think about it, Jongdae is beginning to doubt he’s being, as Kris had put it, ‘delivered’ back home.  Yes, like a package. He doesn’t have a clue as to his current whereabouts - his vision too blurry to decipher the road signs on the poorly lit freeway, or how long will it take to reach their destination. According to his watch, they’ve been driving in fatal silence for at least two hours, but who’s to guarantee they’re headed in the right direction? It’s four to 11PM. For all he knows, by morning they’ll arrive at Mokpo, or Yeosu, or anywhere that’s in the opposite direction of Seoul.

His suspicion is multiplied when Kris takes a sharp turn to the right, off the main road and into what looks like an extremely unremarkable, mid-sized town.

“Uhm…” Jongdae hums, unsure whether it’s safe to directly pose the question he so desperately needs to ask - just where in South Korea is Kris taking him?

“What is it?” Kris’ grip on his knee tightens.

Alarmed, Jongdae instead decides to go for something much more harmless. “Are we low on gas?”

Kris turns shaded eyes to his squirming passenger. Having changed out of his ruined work shirt, he’s wearing a sleeveless black t-shirt, and Jongdae can’t help wondering whether that’s a tribal tattoo on his upper left arm or what, and if it is, whether it’s real, because if that combined with shades in the middle of the night doesn’t scream Yakuza Member, he doesn’t know what does.  Then again, he doesn’t exactly see Kris’ left arm from his position, and so it must be dirt.

It has got to be dirt.

“Even if we were, all gas stations are closed by now. Don’t get your panties in a bunch; I’m driving you to Seoul. Thought I’d buy some lube on the way, before it slips my mind.”

Jongdae gulps. “ …lube for the engine?”

“No, lube for your hole, to get it all nice and sloppy. Seriously Chenchen, haven’t you been getting any action lately? You’re so tight it hurts. Literally hurts.”

“I’m not sleeping with you again!”

“We’ll see about that. Whatever did you find in Minseokie, anyway? Not the size of his equipment, that’s for sure. ”

The silence which falls upon the car following Kris’ haughty mine-is-bigger comment is just about tangible. Jongdae keeps stealing worried glances at his ex, who looks for all like the proverbial cat who got the mouse that drowned inside the cream. How come Kris sounds so confident they will be having sex again?

When Kris parks around a corner from the first 24/7 grocery store he comes across, Jongdae is by now contemplating a short trip to Wikipedia. He’d like to find out whether he could successfully simulate agoraphobia, just so he’d never have to leave his house again, in order to exclude the possibility of ever running into Kris. Then again, he’s guessing Minseok would be done with him had he decided to play invalid.

“Be right back,” Kris throws at him and kills the engine, “I trust you to behave.” he actually ruffles the stunned Korean’s hair. And just like that, with a thud from the driver’s door and a shrilling bleep from the remote transmitter, Jongdae is locked inside the cab all by himself.

He looks around, failing to spot any pedestrians or occupied vehicles within hearing range.  Realizing he’s pretty much isolated from the outer world, Jongdae refrains from banging on the windows in hope someone comes to his rescue, and concentrates on his direct surroundings.

Fifteen minutes later, Kris finds him attempting to pick the lock on the glove compartment, the one containing his cellphone and wallet, with the help of a pin he’d ripped off the broken plastic flower on his jacket.

Kris observes him for another minute, a curious mix of rage and endearment on his features, then smirks, makes a fist and taps on the passenger window, causing Jongdae to startle in his seat and knock his forehead into the dashboard.

Shaking his head in disappointment, Kris walks around the car, unlocks it and gets back behind the wheel. “I thought I told you to behave. You’ll get your stuff when I decide so.” he seems to leave it at that, no raising of the voice, or threatening with handcuffs, or smashing Jongdae’s face into the windshield to see which one breaks first. Then again, Kris never raises his voice… he’s more of a physical violence kind of guy.

It’s then that Jongdae notices the grocery bag Kris has brought back with him.

“I know you’re dying to find out what I got you, it’s a shame they didn’t have any lube.” Kris digs around the bag, retrieving a can of iced coffee, most likely for himself, and what looks suspiciously like a cherry popsicle.

Surprised Kris still remembers his favorite flavor; Jongdae instinctively makes to accept the cold snack. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Wait, not so fast.” Kris says, holding the treat just out of Jongdae’s reach. “Do you know why I got you this?”

Oh great, Jongdae figures, another game.

“Because you’re being unusually thoughtful, in hope I fall in love with you all over again and change my mind about marrying Minseok. Forget it Fan, not gonna happen.”

What escapes Kris is a very interesting blend between a snort and a surprised gasp. “Oh my, are you sure that’s the reason?”

“What else could it be?” Jongdae is pretty damn annoyed Kris is waving food at him like one would wave catnip, and so he retracts his hands and tries to appear as disinterested as possible.  “You know what; you can shove your popsicle up-”

“Woah! Yes, I know where I can shove it; I bet you feel all wet and empty down there. Though I’d prefer it if you kept your clothes on for the time being - no need to be drawing unnecessary attention.”

Jongdae huffs and turns to look out of the window. And to think Kris would know better than to try and bribe him with his favorite food. He hears a can being popped open, and now they’re driving again, out of the town and back to the main road. Here and there, he spots people scattered on the otherwise empty streets, and so he wonders whether it’d do him any good to shout out for help. Surely someone would be kind enough to contact the police…

“Take your fucking popsicle or grandma over there gets closely acquainted with the bumper.” Kris warns; eyes locked on a potential target.

Since Jongdae doesn’t doubt this crazy threat at all, he swiftly grabs the snack from where it’s waiting for him in the cup holder in between the seats and begins unwrapping it. Kris smiles, takes a swig of his coffee and manages half a wave towards the elderly pedestrian, who immediately goes on a rant regarding today’s youth and how they never bow anymore.

“Good boy,” Kris says “now practice.”

“Practice what?”

“I got you this because your fellatio skills are clearly lacking, you used to be so much better at giving head. Don’t worry, we shall fix this.”

Jongdae nearly chokes on his favorite snack.

A few minutes and some sad attempts at deepthroating a popsicle later (lest Kris makes good on his words and does a u-turn to find them some cute little kitten to run over), they’re back on the freeway, headed to what Jongdae is encouraged to believe is Seoul. Kris throws his empty can out of the window and switches to driving with his left hand, so he could once again rest the right palm on Jongdae, this time around over his thigh.

Even just laying there quite innocently; to Jongdae, the pleasantly heavy limb feels more proprietary than comforting, especially since Kris’ profile is positively gloating. He now remembers how, even during his good moods, Kris would always treat him as some prized animal rather than an equal - a lover. And then there were the bad moods, when Kris would use him as a piece of meat to take frustration out on.

He reprimands himself for guilelessly assuming Kris is set on having him fall back in love.  Kris doesn’t love him, he obviously isn’t capable of the emotion, so what should he care whether Jongdae loves him or not, as long as he follows orders to the letter and doesn’t ask too many questions?

Except for how, right now he needs to ask some questions.

“Fan, are you really driving me back home? To my home?”

“How many times do we have to go over this? You know I hate repeating myself.”

“Yeah, b-but…” Jongdae stutters, the angry notes in Kris’ voice having discouraged him from further questioning.

Apparently, Kris reads him better than Jongdae gives him credit for. “I know what you really wanna ask - how come I’m sure you will be coming back for more. Well, let me clarify it so you get the drill. Right now I’m dropping you off at the nearest subway station in Seoul. Hope you have your metro card handy or you might be in serious trouble.”

“I thought you said you were driving me home.”

“Do I look like a cab driver? I’d have to charge you extra for that. Which reminds me, you still haven’t paid for the initial ride. Wanna suck me off right now or…?”

“You want me to pay you for raping me?… n-no way.”

“Yeah, thought so. Subway station it is. You should still have enough time to get home and think up some creative bedtime sob-story to tell your Minseokie. You can even marry him, whatever. I won’t mind.”

“And that’s it, you’re just gonna let me marry him?” It all seems way too easy.

Sure Jongdae’s gonna have to limp all the way to the train, ride it back home with a bunch of middle-aged perverts for company, and he’ll consider himself lucky if they don’t gang up on him for a whiff of the semen running down his thighs… but still, there’s got to be a bigger catch.  He shudders at the thought of what it possibly might be.

“I won’t stand in your way, no. You can still have your big gay wedding, supposing Minseok isn’t too heartbroken cause his bride had ditched him at the figurative altar. And by the way, that friend of yours had sounded really eager to console him in case you ‘get cold feet’. Such a nice fellow, that one is.”

Is Kris implying his fiance would cheat on him? With whom? Jongdae is still at a loss, unable to digest the possibility of one of his close friends ever backstabbing him in such a cruel manner.

“That’s ridiculous, Minseok would never do that!” he protests.

“Yeah well, let’s hope he has the same kinda blind faith in you. But here comes the good part; whenever I need a little you-time, I’m gonna give you a call. You’ll drop whatever unimportant thing you’re doing at the moment, even if it’s your husband, and get your pretty ass to a meeting spot where I will pick you up or else… deal with the consequences. And trust me; you don’t want to deal with those.”

“I’m sorry? What makes you think you can just-”

“Don’t worry; I’ve memorized your work schedule. You won’t get fired.” Kris ‘reassures’ him.

“I knew you were stalking me.”

“That’s funny; I could’ve sworn you didn’t. You know what I love about you, Chenchen?”

Jongdae swallows the remark on how clearly Kris is inept at loving anything but himself.

“How you’re so easy to… I wouldn’t say manipulate, cause that’s an ugly word, so let’s refer to it as ‘point in the right direction’. What’s with all that natural submissiveness you’re so ashamed of, and your fear of handcuffs. I mean, they’re just cuffs. What good are your hands to you anyway, it’s not like you ever fight back.”

“I’ve told you this before, it’s a condition. I have-”

Why does Jongdae even bother trying to transform this into a civilized conversation, only to have Kris interrupt him time and time and then some?

“Yeah yeah, I know. Some phobia or the other. Do you know how long it took to find you the right handcuffs? Or how much they’d cost?” Kris pauses, as if he’s waiting for the Korean to thank him for spending undefined amounts of money on the perfect gift from purgatory.

“Those aren’t handcuffs! You can’t expect someone to wear that thing you tried to force on me, they’d bleed to death.”

“Ooh, I know those aren’t cuffs. But it’s a pretty awesome camera, night vision and everything. You’re very photogenic, Chen, I’m sure Minseok would love to hear how he can never find your prostate.”

“No… no way, you’re lying.”

Even though they’d long left the beach, Jongdae’s vision is swimming. He makes to reach out for Kris’ shoulder, perhaps so he could shake him out of whatever delirium the blonde seems to be going through, but flinches back at the last second.

“Am I? I’ll send you an edited copy of the final piece, the one where you’re begging me to fuck you. Too bad I had to make you wipe them tear streaks off, you’re so much prettier in black… but hey, at least it looks fully consensual.”

“You can’t do that. I’ll rep-port you to… to the police…”

“And tell them what, that you’re a slut? I’d like to see you try.” Kris’ eyes are firmly on the road, and yet he succeeds at dipping a stray finger straight into a shiny droplet on the tip of Jongdae’s nose.

Jongdae hiccups. He thinks he might be sick, pass out, or hell - do both at the same time.

What a miserable way of spending the happiest day of the rest of your life.

Had he spared the side view mirror a moment of his time, he would’ve noticed that the fresh tears running down his cheeks are clear of any color. Like maybe he had cried so much today he’d managed to destroy all evidence of there ever being any eyeliner to begin with. Jongdae is unaware of this peculiar phenomenon, for he wouldn’t dare look up from his lap, hands crossed over his chest in a futile protective gesture.