SM's S&M ;; Part One
Title: SM's S&M Part 1
Pairing: HanChul; background QMi
Rating: (this part)PG-15
Summary/Notes: Hankyung finds himself in an S&M club, and completely fascinated by the man in the mask. Blame gamia. She said Heechul would be the gagged-and-bound type, and then BoA's "Dress Off" started playing.
Hankyung usually wasn't one to visit sex clubs, and so he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing at one. He vaguely remembered a bet with Sungmin, his co-worker, but there was wine involved and you can never be sure what's true with Sungmin when there's wine involved.
Stepping through the door, Hankyung thought maybe he was in the wrong building. The carpet was a silencing plush kind, a deep, almost sensual burgundy in color. The wallpaper was intricate and added to the fanciful feel of a castle parlor--not that Hankyung had been to many castles, mind you. Turning a corner led Hankyung into a hallway with matte-black walls, a darker feel suddenly taking over.
"Hello, there!" A voice with a familiar accent called for Hankyung from the end of the dimly lit hall. An extremely tall man was making his way toward him, an out-of-place grin on his face. "Welcome to SM's S&M club. Is this your first time? I don't think I've seen you before. . ." The tall man was wearing a nicely fitted suit with a pale blue satin shirt partially unbuttoned underneath it. His cheery disposition was in stark contrast to the surroundings, but comforting to Hankyung’s nerves nonetheless.
"Ah, yes. I've never been to any sort of place like this; I'm a little confused.” The host seemed to recognize Hankyung's too-long vowels and knowingly switched a smooth Mandarin.
"That's alright. That's why I'm here, anyways, to help you get settled with the right person." The man flashed him another grin and Hankyung noticed his hair matched the soft carpet almost perfectly. "Firstly, do you have a certain type?"
Hankyung blinked at him, a little unsure of how to answer. It's not that he didn't have a type, he'd just never thought on it long enough to describe it. He settled for an unintelligible "uuhhm" and hoped the kind man didn't give up on him.
The red-head laughed. "Alright, that's okay," another grin. "Do you prefer to dominate and penetrate, or submit and receive?"
Immediately flushing a deep red, all Hankyung could do was stutter. He finally managed out that he preferred to dominate, if that was alright. The man chuckled and pulled out a thin photo album.
"I think someone from here would be best for you, from what I can tell." He laid it out open on a podium Hankyung hadn't noticed until then, and stepped back, allowing him to look on his own.
No one was really catching his eye as he flipped through the glossy pages, though one fragile-looking boy (who was actually his senior by a couple years) was certainly flawlessly attractive. He had almost started thinking there was no one worthwhile except for maybe the pretty hyung, but the very last page made his breath catch.
The man in the photo, just barely older than himself, was beyond beautiful. His skin was a creamy white and looked so soft to the touch that Hankyung found himself trailing a finger over an exposed, photographed thigh before he could stop himself. The close-up on the opposite page offered a better look at the smoky eyes, black liner smudged tastefully at the corners. Something in his faced looked indefinitely feminine yet so terribly fierce at the same time. He was wearing a black cotton face mask, a character in shimmering silver that Hankyung's mind couldn't bother to remember imaged on the front.
"This one," Hankyung croaked suddenly, surprising himself. “I mean, him, I'd like to meet him, please."
The host leaned over his shoulder, glancing at the open book. Hankyung was a little shocked at the startled gasp, wondering what was so wrong with his choice. He looked back at the pictures, fascinated still by the white skin and long, long black hair. "Heechul's a very strong personality. I don't know that he would be right for a first-timer."
Looking back at the close-up, Hankyung could see it now, or imagined he could: the almost imperceptible crease between his brows, a sharp spark in his eyes that was clear even in photos. Was he smirking, too, behind that mask? What did his mouth even look like? Pink or red lips? Soft and plump, or thin but oh-so talented? He needed this man, he decided.
"I want him."
The host paused, seeming to consider his options. Finally he spoke: "I'll go see if he's free. Please be seated in the lobby; follow me." Hankyung followed the tall man down the rest of the hallways, a tingle of anxious excitement running through his lungs with every breath. They stopped in a round room with a soft black leather couch curved along one of the walls. The redhead motioned for Hankyung to sit with a smile, before turning to leave.
On his way out of the room, the host stopped by a dark gray suede armchair where a pale boy was sleeping. Hankyung watched as he stroked the boy's curly brown hair, waking him whether he meant to or not. The boy in the chair stirred, his pretty mouth curved into a scowl as he opened his eyes, but once he saw who was in front of him his face lit up almost childishly.
"Zhou Mimi~" Hankyung heard him mewl tiredly, reaching up for contact. The host, whose name he assumed now was Zhou Mi, held the outstretched hands in one of his larger hands and adjusted the silky black robe where it had fallen off a white shoulder, his fingertips brushing over a map of scars on his abdomen. Zhou Mi muttered something to the robed boy, kissing the top of his head just before he left.
Hankyung stared at a piece of white fuzz on the carpet, feeling incredibly awkward now that he was alone with a boy who was more than likely an "employee".
“Zhou Mi says you’re looking for Heechul.” The rich voice startled Hankyung, whose mind had drifted off to things such as his grocery list in the quiet of the room. He looked up at the boy from the chair to find him walking towards the couch. He curled up at the farthest end from Hankyung, nestled in the corner of the arm rest and the couch’s back, keeping eye contact the whole time. “He doesn’t think you can handle him, though. Not like you think you can, anyways.”
Struggling to get his throat working, Hankyung coughed nervously before questioning, “What’s so special about this Heechul, anyways?” As much as he had tried to sound demanding in a nonchalant way, his voice came out a little shaky, creaking in the end.
The boy stared Hankyung down, his face unreadable. The pink lips suddenly twisted and he broke down laughing, a beautiful sound if Hankyung had to call it anything, before easing off into a chuckle. His mouth was tweaked at the edges in an amused smirk. “This Heechul,” he began, mocking Hankyung’s word choice, “doesn’t exactly play by the rules.”
“I . . . what do you mean by that?”
A kitten yawn was the only immediate answer as the other stretched for a second, obviously not feeling the sudden, nervous tension that Hankyung was. “I mean, it doesn’t matter what you tell him, or what you pay him for, he simply does what he feels.”
Hankyung took a moment to think, suddenly imagining Heechul as a raving sadist, dishing out torture like candy, no matter how many times Hankyung shouted whatever safe word they came up with.
What was he even doing here!
“Of course,” the smooth baritone jerked Hankyung out of his thoughts, “he listens to safe-words, and knows when to stop; he’s not stupid.” The relief was probably evident on his face judging by the way the curly-haired boy smirked. They both glanced up at the sound of footsteps-one set, Hankyung noted-and then the other was serious, standing and looking Hankyung straight in the eyes. “But I think you should know: once you walk through Heechul’s door, you’re his.” And with that he slipped away, wrapping
himself around the back of Zhou Mi, who had just then returned.
“Are you ready?” Zhou Mi asked in familiar Mandarin. Small comforts, Hankyung thought as he swallowed hard and nodded.
***
The walk to Heechul’s room had been quiet and of course uneventful. It was a short trip down a long hallway, and no matter how on edge Hankyung was, nothing was there to jump and eat them. (Although, once or twice the thought crossed his mind that he hoped something killed him before they got there, so he could get out of what was turning into a bad decision, without too much embarrassment.)
Standing behind Zhou Mi as he worked a key into the door, hearing the click of it unlocking echo in his head, he figured humiliation wasn’t so bad if it got him out of this. Maybe Heechul would be up for a chat? “Heechul hyung!” Zhou Mi tapped his knuckles against the door twice, calling to the man on the other side. “I’m back with your costumer; we’re coming in.”
Zhou Mi pushed the door open, sauntering in with a shuffling Hankyung in tow. “Hyung, really.” Hankyung looked up from the floor after the taller tsked, only to see who he assumed was Heechul, stretched out lazily at the foot of a large bed, rubbing an obvious erection through black shorts. Hankyung’s mouth went dry; surely someone had some water. . ? “If you insist on doing that to ‘get ready’, then shouldn’t you be done by the time the costumer is here?”
Heechul pushed himself up and off the bed, coming closer to drape himself over Zhou Mi’s back the best he could, standing on his toes to check out Hankyung from over the redhead’s shoulder. “It gives them a head start, too,” he smirked wickedly, eyes flickering from Hankyung’s flushed face to his slightly strained zipper.
The Chinese host sighed, prying Heechul off and turning to Hankyung. “We’ll collect your payment afterwards, and you’ll be charged based on time and anything Heechul deems necessary of extra charge.” Zhou Mi turned to what looked like an alarm system by the door, pressing a few buttons and then turning back. “Your time will begin being tracked after I close the door.” And then in Mandarin, “Good luck.”
And he was out the door.
Hankyung stared at the door, his chance of any salvation gone with the faint click of the door and beep of the timer. He slowly turned back towards Heechul, who was leaning against the bed frame with a strange, calculating expression. “You’re Chinese?” Heechul finally spoke, eyes searching Hankyung’s face and catching at that dark mouth a couple of times. Hankyung responded with a nod, not really trusting himself to speak. Heechul hummed, standing straighter and ever-so-slowly making his way towards the nervous man. “I wonder what it will take then,” he started again when he was nearly against Hankyung, close enough for their chests to touch if either took a deep breath, “for you to start mumbling dirty things in that pretty, pretty language.”
Their chests and stomachs bumped as Hankyung took gulps of air, choking on a quick inhale. Heechul went on. “For Zhou Mi, all I had to do was let him fuck my mouth. Of course I don’t know what he said, but are you aware of how fucking sexy Chinese is?” Heechul inched forward, winding an arm around Hankyung’s waist. “Is that what it takes for you, too?” Hankyung couldn’t help the sound that escaped when their hips were suddenly flush against each other, Heechul still talking. “I think. . .” a hand slipped past the waistband of Hankyung’s pants, gripping and tugging when it found its goal. “Oh, God, you’re thick. Yeah, you’d make my jaw ache. But I think I might like that,” he all but mewled as Hankyung moaned, little impatient sounds following.
“Are-” Hankyung cleared his throat, his thought process jammed up somewhere under his tongue as Heechul stroked him with a look of needy admiration. “Do you like-are you into pain?” Heechul’s lips melted into a smirk as he ran his hands up and under Hankyung’s shirt, gripping his shoulders when he reached them.
“Play your cards right,” he breathed, pressing up against the Chinese man, “and I’ll be into whatever you want, babe. Maybe even you.”
To be perfectly honest I don't know how the hell I'm going to write stupidly kinky sex, so bare with me guys. That's why this has been sitting unfinished for so long. I decided to post it in two parts though, because this seemed like a nice edge. Wait for me! I'll work hard for my readers~
Pairing: HanChul; background QMi
Rating: (this part)PG-15
Summary/Notes: Hankyung finds himself in an S&M club, and completely fascinated by the man in the mask. Blame gamia. She said Heechul would be the gagged-and-bound type, and then BoA's "Dress Off" started playing.
Hankyung usually wasn't one to visit sex clubs, and so he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing at one. He vaguely remembered a bet with Sungmin, his co-worker, but there was wine involved and you can never be sure what's true with Sungmin when there's wine involved.
Stepping through the door, Hankyung thought maybe he was in the wrong building. The carpet was a silencing plush kind, a deep, almost sensual burgundy in color. The wallpaper was intricate and added to the fanciful feel of a castle parlor--not that Hankyung had been to many castles, mind you. Turning a corner led Hankyung into a hallway with matte-black walls, a darker feel suddenly taking over.
"Hello, there!" A voice with a familiar accent called for Hankyung from the end of the dimly lit hall. An extremely tall man was making his way toward him, an out-of-place grin on his face. "Welcome to SM's S&M club. Is this your first time? I don't think I've seen you before. . ." The tall man was wearing a nicely fitted suit with a pale blue satin shirt partially unbuttoned underneath it. His cheery disposition was in stark contrast to the surroundings, but comforting to Hankyung’s nerves nonetheless.
"Ah, yes. I've never been to any sort of place like this; I'm a little confused.” The host seemed to recognize Hankyung's too-long vowels and knowingly switched a smooth Mandarin.
"That's alright. That's why I'm here, anyways, to help you get settled with the right person." The man flashed him another grin and Hankyung noticed his hair matched the soft carpet almost perfectly. "Firstly, do you have a certain type?"
Hankyung blinked at him, a little unsure of how to answer. It's not that he didn't have a type, he'd just never thought on it long enough to describe it. He settled for an unintelligible "uuhhm" and hoped the kind man didn't give up on him.
The red-head laughed. "Alright, that's okay," another grin. "Do you prefer to dominate and penetrate, or submit and receive?"
Immediately flushing a deep red, all Hankyung could do was stutter. He finally managed out that he preferred to dominate, if that was alright. The man chuckled and pulled out a thin photo album.
"I think someone from here would be best for you, from what I can tell." He laid it out open on a podium Hankyung hadn't noticed until then, and stepped back, allowing him to look on his own.
No one was really catching his eye as he flipped through the glossy pages, though one fragile-looking boy (who was actually his senior by a couple years) was certainly flawlessly attractive. He had almost started thinking there was no one worthwhile except for maybe the pretty hyung, but the very last page made his breath catch.
The man in the photo, just barely older than himself, was beyond beautiful. His skin was a creamy white and looked so soft to the touch that Hankyung found himself trailing a finger over an exposed, photographed thigh before he could stop himself. The close-up on the opposite page offered a better look at the smoky eyes, black liner smudged tastefully at the corners. Something in his faced looked indefinitely feminine yet so terribly fierce at the same time. He was wearing a black cotton face mask, a character in shimmering silver that Hankyung's mind couldn't bother to remember imaged on the front.
"This one," Hankyung croaked suddenly, surprising himself. “I mean, him, I'd like to meet him, please."
The host leaned over his shoulder, glancing at the open book. Hankyung was a little shocked at the startled gasp, wondering what was so wrong with his choice. He looked back at the pictures, fascinated still by the white skin and long, long black hair. "Heechul's a very strong personality. I don't know that he would be right for a first-timer."
Looking back at the close-up, Hankyung could see it now, or imagined he could: the almost imperceptible crease between his brows, a sharp spark in his eyes that was clear even in photos. Was he smirking, too, behind that mask? What did his mouth even look like? Pink or red lips? Soft and plump, or thin but oh-so talented? He needed this man, he decided.
"I want him."
The host paused, seeming to consider his options. Finally he spoke: "I'll go see if he's free. Please be seated in the lobby; follow me." Hankyung followed the tall man down the rest of the hallways, a tingle of anxious excitement running through his lungs with every breath. They stopped in a round room with a soft black leather couch curved along one of the walls. The redhead motioned for Hankyung to sit with a smile, before turning to leave.
On his way out of the room, the host stopped by a dark gray suede armchair where a pale boy was sleeping. Hankyung watched as he stroked the boy's curly brown hair, waking him whether he meant to or not. The boy in the chair stirred, his pretty mouth curved into a scowl as he opened his eyes, but once he saw who was in front of him his face lit up almost childishly.
"Zhou Mimi~" Hankyung heard him mewl tiredly, reaching up for contact. The host, whose name he assumed now was Zhou Mi, held the outstretched hands in one of his larger hands and adjusted the silky black robe where it had fallen off a white shoulder, his fingertips brushing over a map of scars on his abdomen. Zhou Mi muttered something to the robed boy, kissing the top of his head just before he left.
Hankyung stared at a piece of white fuzz on the carpet, feeling incredibly awkward now that he was alone with a boy who was more than likely an "employee".
“Zhou Mi says you’re looking for Heechul.” The rich voice startled Hankyung, whose mind had drifted off to things such as his grocery list in the quiet of the room. He looked up at the boy from the chair to find him walking towards the couch. He curled up at the farthest end from Hankyung, nestled in the corner of the arm rest and the couch’s back, keeping eye contact the whole time. “He doesn’t think you can handle him, though. Not like you think you can, anyways.”
Struggling to get his throat working, Hankyung coughed nervously before questioning, “What’s so special about this Heechul, anyways?” As much as he had tried to sound demanding in a nonchalant way, his voice came out a little shaky, creaking in the end.
The boy stared Hankyung down, his face unreadable. The pink lips suddenly twisted and he broke down laughing, a beautiful sound if Hankyung had to call it anything, before easing off into a chuckle. His mouth was tweaked at the edges in an amused smirk. “This Heechul,” he began, mocking Hankyung’s word choice, “doesn’t exactly play by the rules.”
“I . . . what do you mean by that?”
A kitten yawn was the only immediate answer as the other stretched for a second, obviously not feeling the sudden, nervous tension that Hankyung was. “I mean, it doesn’t matter what you tell him, or what you pay him for, he simply does what he feels.”
Hankyung took a moment to think, suddenly imagining Heechul as a raving sadist, dishing out torture like candy, no matter how many times Hankyung shouted whatever safe word they came up with.
What was he even doing here!
“Of course,” the smooth baritone jerked Hankyung out of his thoughts, “he listens to safe-words, and knows when to stop; he’s not stupid.” The relief was probably evident on his face judging by the way the curly-haired boy smirked. They both glanced up at the sound of footsteps-one set, Hankyung noted-and then the other was serious, standing and looking Hankyung straight in the eyes. “But I think you should know: once you walk through Heechul’s door, you’re his.” And with that he slipped away, wrapping
himself around the back of Zhou Mi, who had just then returned.
“Are you ready?” Zhou Mi asked in familiar Mandarin. Small comforts, Hankyung thought as he swallowed hard and nodded.
***
The walk to Heechul’s room had been quiet and of course uneventful. It was a short trip down a long hallway, and no matter how on edge Hankyung was, nothing was there to jump and eat them. (Although, once or twice the thought crossed his mind that he hoped something killed him before they got there, so he could get out of what was turning into a bad decision, without too much embarrassment.)
Standing behind Zhou Mi as he worked a key into the door, hearing the click of it unlocking echo in his head, he figured humiliation wasn’t so bad if it got him out of this. Maybe Heechul would be up for a chat? “Heechul hyung!” Zhou Mi tapped his knuckles against the door twice, calling to the man on the other side. “I’m back with your costumer; we’re coming in.”
Zhou Mi pushed the door open, sauntering in with a shuffling Hankyung in tow. “Hyung, really.” Hankyung looked up from the floor after the taller tsked, only to see who he assumed was Heechul, stretched out lazily at the foot of a large bed, rubbing an obvious erection through black shorts. Hankyung’s mouth went dry; surely someone had some water. . ? “If you insist on doing that to ‘get ready’, then shouldn’t you be done by the time the costumer is here?”
Heechul pushed himself up and off the bed, coming closer to drape himself over Zhou Mi’s back the best he could, standing on his toes to check out Hankyung from over the redhead’s shoulder. “It gives them a head start, too,” he smirked wickedly, eyes flickering from Hankyung’s flushed face to his slightly strained zipper.
The Chinese host sighed, prying Heechul off and turning to Hankyung. “We’ll collect your payment afterwards, and you’ll be charged based on time and anything Heechul deems necessary of extra charge.” Zhou Mi turned to what looked like an alarm system by the door, pressing a few buttons and then turning back. “Your time will begin being tracked after I close the door.” And then in Mandarin, “Good luck.”
And he was out the door.
Hankyung stared at the door, his chance of any salvation gone with the faint click of the door and beep of the timer. He slowly turned back towards Heechul, who was leaning against the bed frame with a strange, calculating expression. “You’re Chinese?” Heechul finally spoke, eyes searching Hankyung’s face and catching at that dark mouth a couple of times. Hankyung responded with a nod, not really trusting himself to speak. Heechul hummed, standing straighter and ever-so-slowly making his way towards the nervous man. “I wonder what it will take then,” he started again when he was nearly against Hankyung, close enough for their chests to touch if either took a deep breath, “for you to start mumbling dirty things in that pretty, pretty language.”
Their chests and stomachs bumped as Hankyung took gulps of air, choking on a quick inhale. Heechul went on. “For Zhou Mi, all I had to do was let him fuck my mouth. Of course I don’t know what he said, but are you aware of how fucking sexy Chinese is?” Heechul inched forward, winding an arm around Hankyung’s waist. “Is that what it takes for you, too?” Hankyung couldn’t help the sound that escaped when their hips were suddenly flush against each other, Heechul still talking. “I think. . .” a hand slipped past the waistband of Hankyung’s pants, gripping and tugging when it found its goal. “Oh, God, you’re thick. Yeah, you’d make my jaw ache. But I think I might like that,” he all but mewled as Hankyung moaned, little impatient sounds following.
“Are-” Hankyung cleared his throat, his thought process jammed up somewhere under his tongue as Heechul stroked him with a look of needy admiration. “Do you like-are you into pain?” Heechul’s lips melted into a smirk as he ran his hands up and under Hankyung’s shirt, gripping his shoulders when he reached them.
“Play your cards right,” he breathed, pressing up against the Chinese man, “and I’ll be into whatever you want, babe. Maybe even you.”
To be perfectly honest I don't know how the hell I'm going to write stupidly kinky sex, so bare with me guys. That's why this has been sitting unfinished for so long. I decided to post it in two parts though, because this seemed like a nice edge. Wait for me! I'll work hard for my readers~